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[WP] "Listen, you're fine, I'm- stop screaming- I'm not going to hurt you. Yes, opening the Dark Book summons The One Who Ends, but that whole thing where I kill the reader is hogwash. Now, would you kindly direct me to the one who tricked you into opening my book? *Intent* is important, after all."
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Helena leapt back from the book as eldrich energy shot up from its pages. She had just opened it and barely had chance to register the script, written in human blood if she was not mistaken, when the bolt of energy had shot up from within it. Her one attempt to close the book had been made in vain, and instead she kept back away from the beam, as far back as the space in the room would allow.
She watched in barely contained horror as the beam rotated to form a portal to another world. It was a summoning spell.
For a being strong enough to trigger such a spell when it's runes we're even perceived by the mind of a mortal.
And it was being summoned without ANY summoning protections.
No summoning circle.
No binding circle.
No knowledge whatsoever of whom she had summoned, never mind its true name.
Her only hope at this point was to appear so composed that she could bluff the creature into not attacking her long enough for her to learn what it was and come up with some sort of plan to get out of this alive and free. It was far from a sure plan, but it was all she could do here.
Shoving down hard on her fear, if she listened to that gibbering panic for even a second she could end up worse than dead, she composed her features and prepared to face whatever came through the portal.
The being that stepped through the portal looked almost human. Like a facsimile of a person, designed by someone who had once heard a good description of a human but had never actually seen one. The features were somehow... Off. Some things met at odd angles, and in other places they appeared unfinished, like the craftsman who had created this facade had gotten bored half way though and just decided to call it a day.
Despite its oddness, its wrongness even, it was a remarkably mundane form for such a creature to take. Usually beasts from the beyond took on terrifying or mind-bending forms almost too wrong for the human mind to comprehend. If this one did not do that, it could mean only one thing. It was so horrifyingly powerful that it did not need to take on such a form. The gibbering panic at the back of Helena's mind sharpened to a keening howl of despair. Despite that, her face remained cool and collected. Barely.
*"WHO HAS SUMMONED ME?"* It's voice sounded deep, and yet it had a piercing quality to it, like shrieking steam or a sharp gale, and it seemed to penetrate to Helena's very soul.
"I.. You may call me Claudia" said Helena. The entity seemed to be examining her, pondering her almost, trying to gain the measure of her. It looked both curious and irritated, if an eldrich entity could be said to be curious or irritated. The silence stretched for a moment, for two, and then a third, becoming ever more uncomfortable. Should she ask its name in return?
"To... To whom do I speak?" it took her a moment to form the words, and as soon as she had asked she would have had the question back. It exposed her ignorance, just how out of her depth she was. Hopefully it would at least yield some worthwhile information.
They seemed to consider Helena for a moment before responding.
*"You don't know who you have summoned?"* The wind had died down to a whisper now, one that teased across the back of your neck on a dark winters night, sending a chill down your spine. Something in that whisper sounded mocking to Helena. She glared at them, her eyes bright balls of blue fire.
"I didn't expect to summon anything or anyone at all. I was *told* the book was a historical arcanum. It is named as such and I had no reason to doubt the man who told me." she said, an almost petulant look to her. "I was expecting a handful of scraps of good knowledge mixed in with a lot of nonsense about potions made from newts eyes and wrens livers, not to summon... Whoever you are... "
*"That explains a great deal. You're smart enough not to give me your real name, and yet you took no precautions before summoning me."* Their voice seemed to sound almost amused *"The precautions would have done you no good, for what it's worth, but still the point stands"*
"So, will you answer my question at least, to whom do I speak?"
That half formed, not quite right face distorted in what Helena assumed was supposed to be a smile. It was anything but friendly.
*"I have many names, but the one you will most likely be familiar with is **The One Who Ends**"*
The noise that burst from Helena was half scream half wail of despair. She was dead, worse than dead in fact. The One Who Ends was known to be one of the most fearsome and vindictive creatures of The Abyss. She would know torment beyond human comprehension before she was done.
"Listen, you're fine, I'm- stop screaming- I'm not going to hurt you. Yes, opening the Dark Book summons The One Who Ends, but that whole thing where I kill the reader is hogwash. Now, would you kindly direct me to the one who tricked you into opening my book? *Intent* is important, after all."
Eventually she managed to stop screaming.
Collecting herself, she straightened up and faced The One Who Ends with all the dignity she could muster.
"I don't know who gave me the book." she explains. "I'm a notable magic historian, I delve into the forgotten magics of our past and explain them for more contemporary audiences. I do public lectures and shows about the history of magic, and occasionally fans send me books or manuscripts they find. This was my newest one. It came with a note!"
She looks over to the book and realises the portal has sent the papers from her desk flying. She dives to the floor, scrambling for the note. Finding it, she leaps back to her feet and hands it to him.
"Thank you. I see the note bears no name"
"No, and it was delivered by courier. Neither are that unusual. People are often nervous about being associated with magic and superstition"
She noticed his voice had become far more human, and his features had become normal, he actually looked like a human man now. He looks thoughtfully at the note.
"Would you be inclined to help me find the soul who thought to see you sacrificed to me?" he asks in an almost offhand way
"You know, I think I would. It's the least they deserve for this!" The menace in Helena's voice is palpable.
"Then we have an accord" he says, offering his hand to Helena. She takes it, sealing their deal.
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The invitation hit my inbox at the right time for me to open it immediately. I waited to respond but only to show I was in control. I wasn't and five minutes ticked by slowly as I waited, writing my reply in my head, fuck yes I'll come and hold your hand while you die.
I didn't wait for another message as I got up and left my office and dressed for a night out bringing a few odds and ends with me in case the suffering was prolonged.
Daniel Sinclair has always been a healthy old man for as long as anyone knew him. Pictures of him without liver spots and most of his scalp exposed were few and far between. In fact, I don't believe I've ever seen one. I hail a cab on W59th Street and tell the driver the address.
"You mind if I take the park?"
"That's fine but we'll need to make a stop on the way."
The cabbie obliges and we pull up to The Church of the Blessed Sacrament, the cabbie honks his horn, as I directed, and a few moments later a priest jogs from the church tugging on an overcoat and carrying an overnight bag.
"Good evening Father Kirowan, thank you for joining me."
He is mid-forties and slender with salt and peppered hair and says, "How could I pass up such an invitation? Are you sure it is going to happen tonight?"
"I received the message from my contact. He says Sinclair asked for us by name and says to hurry."
And the cabby does, racing across the park and East Harlem driving under the Roosevelt and down a steep embankment before coming to a stop at the base of a hill under Highbridge.
"You sure about this?"
I assure him the place looks less inhabited than it was and thank him for the ride and give him a hefty tip to maybe help forget about this altogether.
Father Kirowan and I are almost giddy as we unlock the padlocked gate with the key afforded us long ago when our studies brought Sinclair to our notice. We return the lock to its original state and traipse across the overgrown walkway up to the ancient abode. Steeped in centuries of history, the house sits atop a short hill overgrown with ancient oaks and Herbaceous underbrush, vines, hedgerows, etcetera. It once loomed over this area of Manhattan like a sentential now it was ivy-covered and mostly forgotten. We approach the mansion built with many pointed arches, ribbed vaults, and flying buttresses, each decorated with a creature from lore, gargoyles, and other monsters that protect the eves and ends of the great house. The stained glass windows have been boarded up long ago, I can't help but wonder what state they exist in. Are they still the wonderful pieces of art that captured the imagination of the world when the place was first built almost three hundred years ago? Many of the sculptures of long-dead and forgotten saints and gods have rejoined the bit of wild forest around, only becoming visible in the winter or with violent guts of wind.
There is a quiet here that doesn't exist elsewhere in the city. Even the traffic On High Bridge is inaudible. The trees moan and nary a bird chirps. The weathered stone walkway catches toes and ruins balance barely visible under the New York City illumination-saturated night sky. Finally, we step up to the grand-entrance. Father Kirowan grabs the knocker protruding from a rampaging bullhead and knocks. The door bangs and inside the sound echoes of stone walls. After a good minute, finally, the door opens and our contact stands head down but eyes catching everything.
"Doctor Conrad, Father Kirowan! Thank you for coming. He is close now."
The short man, steps aside, and we are greeted by a labyrinthine maze of twisting staircases and hallways. They know, from experience, the house is filled with secret chambers and when they leave they will have headaches from inhaling the centuries of dust clogging the ductwork. The air is thick with the scent of decay, If nothing lived here it would surprise neither one of them. But they know Daniel Sinclair does. A strange whisper echoes through the halls, "Bring them to me, hurry."
The words come as if carried by the very walls themselves. The flickering light of the ancient lights follow us through hallways filled with shadows until our guide stops and opens a heavy oaken door.
Beyond is the dank smell of illness and death.
We cross into the room eagerly and beeline toward the form lying on the huge bed in the center of the room. The furnishings are carved with demons jutting from the joints and mouths with wicked teeth and pointing tongues. The portraits leer with hate and hunger. Each face, the same, the only difference is the garb changing with the fashion of the ages. The flickering lights make the canvases look like they bulge and move. While the statues in the corners seem to shift and move when one's back is turned.
Once at Sinclair's bedside, we each grab a hand and he asks, "Conrad! You look horrible. But tell me you read it. Did you? As we agreed?"
I nod and he sighs and offers Father Kirowan a weak smirk, who smiles back.
It isn't long before the pulse under my fingers stops, maybe an hour.
Father Kirowan administers last rights and I keep hold of the man's wrist. Waiting, unsure what to expect. Only knowing only what my research has shown. The old books describe the event that will occur as violent and sudden, how the old body ruptures as the very soul spills out into the world. A lot of information is incomplete and has taken a little over three years to collect it all as is. I pull out the manuscript I am due to read from and run my hand over the ancient Ivrit. Drawn from ancient Babylonian the blocky forms combine vowels and the other distinct markings indicating pronunciation and grammatical features. I had my work cut out for me. I read the text before but to myself. Putting sounds to things usually gives it a new power. And this was very much a dead language one that the air last tasted almost 5000 years ago.
Father Kirowan anoints the body in holy oils drawing symbols on the forehead and bare chest. Once done I know it is my turn and begin reading the guttural and emphatic consonants. The words are pronounced from the back of my throat. There is a sing-songiness to the canticle that rises and falls as I intone the words. And as I read the lights flicker harder, the paintings strain from their frames and the wind tries to rip the house down from the outside. As I finish the last lines a bolt of lightning flashes outside the window blowing branches out of a giant Oak and followed by the loudest clap of Thunder I have ever heard.
Kirowan has his hands over his ears; like I do, but it does nothing to prevent the voice from reaching our brain. Almost as if the words themselves, spoken in a voice so rough each word might be mortally wounding the vocal cords, birthed the demon.
These are the words I managed to jot down before the fear crushed my spirit and I devolved to a state of feral anguish from which I still have yet to recover.
The words said were: Hark! Thou art unharmed, cease thy cries. The One Who Ends, summoned by the Dark Book's unsealing, shan't claim thee as victim. Yet, prithee, reveal the deceiver who led thee to pry open my tome. Intentions bear weight, indeed.
When our madness wanned we were able to escape, but not before noting the absence of a corpse and a shattered window and a brand new portrait on the wall of our dear departed friend, Daniel Sinclair.
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k5wkd0c
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k5w63xl
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[WP] As a superhero, you discover your sidekick has been dating the villain’s henchperson for months. It’s all fine and good until you learn how the villain treats them at home.
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He wasn't... isn't? a bad sidekick. I actually really appreciate his help but lately when we've been fighting Veneera and her illusions... I noticed that Dareboy has been pulling his punches when fighting Mysteria. This didn't bother me, I pull my punches with a lot of foes, don't want to take off their heads, they need help or to behave, not death sentence without due process. Anyways, it was during our last fight, no it was before that, I know it was but it was then that I realized what I was seeing. He wasn't just pulling his punches, he was smiling. I couldn't make out what they were saying but they were having *fun!*
I finally dropped Veneera off at the hospital, asked who her dentist was because, man do her teeth look great, and sat Fred down for a chat. Oh sorry, Dareboy, down for a chat.
At first, I was annoyed. Apparently the two of them had met through a friend and immediately things took off. I wanted to be upset but he was in love and so stupidly happy. And whats worse is that this has been going on for 6 months! It wasn't until a month ago did they come out to each other as superhero/supervillain.
But that, is why I'm here. He started telling me about how she was being treated. Apparently Veneera's been treating her staff like gold! 5 star chef on staff, opulent bedrooms, vacation, medical leave, actual decent healthcare!
So Chief, that's why I'm breaking her out. I've had my fill as a superhero on volunteer pay with no benefits, not even decent fringe ones. Tartan had to fight off Galaxar while in a wheelchair still recovering from his last fight on his own dime.
So if you'll kindly step out of the way, I haven't eaten in a week.
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When he told me that they went out together I was terrified. I raised this boy by myself, and although I knew he had a golden heart, he was sometimes quite naïve. I didn’t blame him – constantly fighting the bad guys doesn’t give you the best experience in dealing with people. Still, I needed to protect him, so I made him promise to never talk to her again. He wasn’t happy but obliged.
A week later I found him sneaking out of the widow. He didn’t lie or try to explain himself. He knew that he betrayed my trust and that there would be consequences. In retrospect I know that I should have punished him and keep him in his room, but for some reason I let him go. Maybe it was the realisation that I couldn’t protect him from everyone. Or maybe I was just tired. Or maybe I knew that she would use him and just wanted to say, “I told you so”. Whatever my reason was, I let him go. That was my biggest mistake.
I think I know why he was so receptive to her. 4 years ago, when his parents died, and I made him my sidekick, he was barely a teenager. He stopped going to school, stopped seeing his friends. He was just lonely. But all paragons of justice have to make sacrifices. We sleep during the day to fight crime during the night. If it causes us to suffer socially – so be it. At least that’s how I used to feel. Perhaps he didn’t.
As weeks passed by, he started to change. He grew more distant and practically stopped talking with me. During missions he would question me constantly, and as far as I appreciate constructive criticism, it was quite obvious that it wasn’t his goal. After a month he became totally hostile, our work being the only time that I’ve seen him out of his room.
Eventually, I decided to confront him. I told him how he has changed, how his actions have caused me a lot of pain, and how this girl has divided us. I thought that he would erupt in anger, start fighting me, or storm out but none of this happened. He explained how the girl is treated by the villain. How he knows that this isn’t normal but there is nothing he can do to change their fate. At some point he even asked me to fix this, but deep down he knew that everything would stay the same.
I vaguely remember the events that followed. Me waiting in a dark alley. A figure coming towards me, unaware of my presence. A struggle. An unmoving corpse. Feeling of shame after what I did.
I am back in my house, and although I feel terrible, I know that I made the right choice. My boy will finally stop asking questions. They were really annoying: “Why are you taking my salary?”, “Why do I have double shifts each day?”, “Why can’t I have a day off?”. Now that she is dead, he won’t complain ever again about being treated differently.
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j6s7cbw
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j6rol9h
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[WP] Your super power has no destructive power, but you're still a highly ranked superhero. *Time Out* puts your opponent into a safe quiet place to reflect on their actions before returning them back the to the same spot and time, they left.
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I begged him to kill me instead of using his powers.
I was making a getaway after stealing a carton of eggs from a local grocery store. A new superhero chased me down and wrestled me into a tangle mess of zip-ties. He sat me against a brick wall in a dark alleyway.
"There's a small knife in my boot. Use it slowly for all I care," I said.
He knelt beside me. The man known as Mr. Moser wore a suit that could have been on the front page of a men's fashion magazine.
"I don't serve my own version of justice like the vigilantes in Vannopolis. The city's court system gets the honor to name the crime and punishment. What I do is assign a little moment for criminals to think about the bad choices they've made."
"You just described jail! Please, let me go to jail peacefully!"
I looked down at his hands; black leather gloves covered them. I've heard if he touches someone's forehead with his bare hands the victim falls into a trance.
"Do you even know where you send people?" I asked.
He shrugged. "I send their consciousness to a place I call Time Out for ten minutes. Afterwards, they come out of it calm and compliable."
"But have you ever been to Time Out?"
He firmly shook his head. "Nope. Wouldn't know how to get there. And why should I go? I'm not the one stealing eggs during a recession."
I drew a deep breath and tried to relax. Perhaps if he knew the stories I've heard about Time Out, he'd hesitate long enough for the cops to arrive and take me away.
"I shouldn't have stolen. Like you said, the city is in a recession, and I figured a dozen boiled eggs can provide me some breakfast for over a week. With that said, can we agree that I'm complying? Will you let me speak for a second?"
He nodded; I continued.
"I haven't been sent to time out since my early grade school days. I understand your rationality sending criminals to your own time out. But others say yours differ from sitting in the corner of a school room."
Mr. Moser smiled. "Oh really? How so?"
"I've only heard anecdotal stories, but no one ever comes out of your Time Out the same."
"That's the point."
"Understandable, but whatever you're doing is too much. People come out of Time Out broken -- nothing more than a shell of their former self."
Mr. Moser looked up at the light polluted night sky when he heard cop sirens off in the distance. He cleared his throat.
"You know, you dropped the egg carton you were carrying during our little chase. And a bit of egg yolk splashed on my..."
He removed a glove to show a skinless hand. He pointed a boney finger wrapped in muscle, nerves, and tendons towards his boots.
"Sorry son, but if you don't go to Time Out for stealing the eggs, you're going for making a mess."
I screamed as his body horror of a hand spread its palm wider than a dinner plate.
"Hush. I'll only send you there for two minutes. The cops should be here afterwards," he said and covered my face with his skinless hand.
\----------
Everything faded to white. Pale white. I still sat like I did in the alley way; my wrists still zip-tied behind my back.
I tried to stand but my head hit an invisible ceiling. I tried to roll on my side, but a wall kept me seated in my uncomfortable slouched posture. It was as if I was trapped inside an egg barely large enough to house me.
"Two minutes," I said to myself. "I can do this for two minutes."
I waited, but nothing changed.
I counted to 120 multiple times.
"Hey! You said I'd be out by now!" I screamed in the vacant space.
No one responded.
*Maybe this is like a dream world. Where time passes differently than reality*. I thought. *Moser will pull me out of Time Out and only two actual minutes will have passed.*
I tried to lean my head forward, but a pure white barrier kept it from moving an inch.
\----------- ----------
I'm still here.
​
# Thanks for reading! /r/VegaVisions for more stories.
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"Fear me, peons of the machine!" The villain cried, standing atop the rubble of City Hall. "I will break you, I will reshape you, I will cure you of this plague of-"
Suddenly, his villainous monolog ceased. Not quite as suddenly as he was teleported to a small white room, but it was close.
"Capitalism... oh DAMNIT, Warden!" He screamed, stepping down from the small bed that had replaced his collapsed building underfoot. "You are the LEAST fun hero to fight. Chairman Static at least makes it interesting with force fields, but you..." he gestured to the featureless walls of his prison, "you just do... this."
I smiled. Communist Manfred couldn't see it from his mental prison construct, but it wasn't an expression meant for him anyways.
"This has to be as boring for you as it is for me, yeah?" He said as he felt along the smooth walls of his current existence. "Can't be fun watching someone else not have fun. So why don't you let me out of here, and-"
"No" I said, breaking my silence. Communist Manfred jumped a bit, but tried to play it off as a villainous pose instead of a startled reflex. "You have broken out of every physical prison we've thrown you in. This mental realm jail cell is the only place we can guara-"
Communist Manfred blew a dismissive raspberry. "Pfffth, whatever. I think I preferred the silent treatment."
I shrugged. The villain still couldn't see me. Not because I was hiding, but it was slightly difficult to see outside of one's current existence. The featureless white cell that contained the red menace was located entirely in my mind. It was literally a figment of my imagination, which was ironic given the room's lack of creativity.
"So how long are you gonna keep me here this time?" He asked, nudging the small mattress with his toe. "A day? A week?"
I sighed. I didn't enjoy what I was about to do. "You've been sentenced to life" I informed Communist Manfred.
Manfred jerked his head skyward, as if looking into a ceiling mounted security camera. "And how's that supposed to work in here? You control how time passes in this monument to boredom. I could be in here for hundreds of years, and still not die. What-"
It was my turn to interrupt. "Not *your* life. Mine."
The boisterous villain was at a loss of words. He stared blankly, mouth hanging open and eyes blinking rapidly as my words sunk in.
"You mean I'm in here" he said slowly, "until you die out there?"
"Affirmative" I replied. "But you are wrong about one thing."
"Oh yeah? What in tap-dancing baby Jesus's tip jar do you mean by that?" He asked. His voice carried so much venom that I wondered if he could be related to Citra, the acid spitting villainess.
"It will be longer than hundreds of years for you. Much longer."
Communist Manfred slammed a fist against the boarder of his personal universe. "How the FUCK is that justice?!?!" He roared.
"...I guess its not." I replied. It was the last outside voice the villain would ever hear.
I withdrew myself from the mental prison cell, and stepped back into my main mental realm. In this higher plane of existence, time flowed several orders of magnitude faster than in the cell level below. I observed Communist Manfred as he zoomed around his tiny cell over the course of months, even though it was only seconds from my point of view. It was like watching an old live stream of a zoo animal on super fast forward.
I stepped to the control center and waved a hand dismissively towards Communist Manfred's small slice of reality. The cell drifted in nothingness until it settled into its final resting place, stacked next to similar mental constructs just like it. Most contained a villain, some had corrupt politicians, and one even held an NFL player that had the misfortune of being on my opponents fantasy football championship team. All of them locked away in their own personal Hell, spending a decade in there for every hour out here.
I double checked my mental security measures, and withdrew another layer up into reality. This happened to be the top layer, what one might consider existence entirely.
The bright sunlight stung my eyes as they tried to readjust to normal reality. I was standing over the limp corpse of Communist Manfred, posing heroically with one foot planted on his chest. Hundreds of citizens stood around us, applauding madly as I waved down at the masses.
"Warden! Warden, we love you!" They cried. "You saved us again!"
I shot the crowd a winning smile, one I had spent decades practicing and perfecting in my mental realm. "Thank you, Citizens. You're the real Heroes here."
The Mayor fought his way through the onlookers and grasped my hand, viciously pumping it up and down as he shook it. "We are forever in your debt, Hero" he said, wiping a single tear of joy on his suit sleeve.
I smiled again. "Thank you, Maurice, but I'm no hero. I'm just a super doing my job."
r/slightlycoldstories for more stories written by me, SlightlyColdWaffles.
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juzcf3f
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juyzml6
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[WP] You're the first test subject for an experimental super soldier serum. You are told the truth only after you transform into something not quite human anymore.
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*HSSS*
*SLURP*
"What. Am. I ?!?!?"
Henry said thickly, forcing coherence through his strange new mouth. What were these things inside his mouth, they felt like tendons!?
His examiner, who had introduced themselves as Lt. Grint, kept staring at him with a hawk-like intensity, and simply instructed:
"Discipline your mind, sergeant, and take stock. What is different?"
He kept looking at himself in the full-length mirror they had provided, the changes were strange and random. Patches of flakey, almost scaly skin. His forearms were bulging in strange ways, and he could swear his entire hip structure was lowered.
Then suddenly, it hit him. He knew exactly what was different, what had changed.
" My... mind." *Slurp* "Why. Am I. Not... afraid?" He was quickly adjusting to his new facial structure. His body was learning to use the new tracts to funnel excess saliva.
The lieutenant allowed a subtle smile, and replied "Well done Sgt. Juniper. You're the fastest yet to realize."
The lieutenant waved the techs forward and the MPs back, confident in this subjects self-control. The medical technicians folded out the mirror, so the sergeant could see more of themselves and adjust easier to their new body. They also more discreetly set up some scanning equipment, to monitor the sergeants responses and ensure general health.
"Begin your stretching routine, Sgt. Juniper. Learn your new body, while I explain."
Henry was grateful for the permission, and began his routine with a calculated slowness. These had to be treated as new muscles, he didn't yet know what this body could do.
"You are the first successfully integrated subject in project TSR-1986 , known commonly as the 'super-soldier project' , and known colloquially amongst the researchers as the 'Yuan-Ti Modification' "
"Aren't the... yuan-ti... , snake people? Am I part snake now?"
"Don't interrupt again, sergeant. And to answer the question, yes. Essentially. You have been modified, not only with superior speed, strength and stamina, but with certain reptilian traits we believe will be most useful in the performance of your duties."
"No fear."
"Exactly. The suppression of most emotion, allowing a clinical approach to unknown situations and more careful application of force. That was the main goal of the genetic integration. We also found ways to add more... shall we say, obvious advantages? Flex your new forearm muscles."
Henry stopped in his isometric routine, and examined his forearms. They were webbed with new blood vessels, and had a strange stiffness to them. He twitched and twisted his fingers, his palm, looking for these 'new' muscle groups, not quite finding them. He shook out his hands to start again, and suddenly felt a release of tension he hadn't realized was there. His looked at his hands.
"What are those?"
'Those' looked for all the world like milk teeth poking out from under his nails. They were leaking a yellowish fluid, and as he ran them over his palm, he could feel they were hard and very sharp.
"In essence? Those are your fangs. Retractable, we believe. They should deliver a small but lethal dose of venom into anyone you can even scratch in melee combat."
Henry looked at his hands. Retractable? How? He searched for that feeling of unknown tension releasing, and tried to reverse it. After a minute or so, the nubs retracted into their apparent place beneath his nail beds.
"If you succeed you will be the first of a new breed of soldier. Fearless, strong, lethal. Everything we need. Do you have any thoughts, feelings on this, Henry? Now is the chance to express them before you are sent for testing and training."
He looked at the lieutenant for a moment, then looked at himself again. He likely could never re-integrate into wider society with these modifications.
The dry, scaly skin aside, to be able to kill with a touch? To never again know fear, or love, or lust?
His newly cold, reptilian mind incorporated all these facts, and came to a conclusion. It would have been sad, if he could feel that anymore. He stepped away from the mirror, and stopped directly in front of the lieutenant. He came to parade ground attention. The lieutenant smiled when he said just four words:
"I am your weapon."
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The warm western wind sneaks into the apartment through an open window. The curtains, which The Soldier only now notices are not made of cloth but taped together newspapers, crinkle and threaten to tear apart.
The Doctor tells him that the procedure is complete. They are not at the military base like The Soldier imagined this all happening in, but The Doctor's apartment, a tiny civilian thing five miles away which they travel to and from by a bus whose radiator needs to be replaced. They have to stop every so often so the engine doesn't melt.
The Soldier looks down at his hands. His fingers are fat like swollen sausages and scars run over the palm, getting mixed in with the natural lines. The largest one splits his lifeline in half. Two weeks ago, when the newest girl he was with told him that, he said he didn't believe in palmistry. They made love, and as they did he couldn't stop thinking about how his life was severed.
"You're not going to turn into a monster," The Doctor says. "The serum doesn't affect your body, but your mind. Remember?"
He does not remember. Last night, he was drunk. He tries to piece together the bits he does recall yet they don't explain why he's here: a gunshot, screaming. A bomb in the distance, turning the night sky orange. A fresh throbbing cut on his ankle.
"How so?" he asks, still turning over his hands yet not seeing them any longer. He has receded into his mind. He searches for the change, but does not find it.
"It's different for everyone," The Doctor says. With that, it is settled. They walk out of the apartment together. On the bus now, a group of starved kids run after them, hoping for bottles of water or candy. They all disappear in a cloud of dust as the heavy machine roars. They stop twice before getting back to the base yet neither Doctor nor Soldier nor Driver speaks.
His bed is not made; there was no time in the morning. Now, he makes it, and as he straightens out the sheet he hears something underneath. A paper with a name and number. Alisha. Before he calls her, he eats dinner, still exploring the recesses of his mind, still searching for the change.
There is an explosion. The Soldier is out of the mess hall, his fork on the ground with a thin slice of meat on it. Grey gravy.
He readies his weapon and without thinking he fires at the band of men in a truck headed for the front gates. The driver is dead instantly, and after more gunfire the rest of the men. The Soldier, along with all the other Soldiers, return to their dinner. He is not allowed another slice of meat so he eats the one off the ground.
Alisha speaks in a demure purr and he goes to her. She lives just outside the base, and he vaguely remembers that she has black hair.
She pulls away from his kiss. A coughing sounds from the apartment below.
"What's happened to your eyes?" she asks. She looks at him closely, and though nothing has changed with his eyes, there is something missing. This is not the same man she has been with before.
He hears The Doctor's words from earlier. "Nothing," he says, and goes in for another kiss. She slaps him and tells him to get out. He does.
The Soldier feels he should be angry, but he is not. Perhaps this is part of the change. He walks through the town for half an hour in search of another girl. It is dark and he is alone and he returns to the base. Night passes.
The Doctor returns in the morning. He performs a physical check up on The Soldier, and at the very end, he slaps him.
"What was that for?" The Soldier asks, rubbing his cheek.
"You are a piece of shit," The Doctor says instead of apologizing. He slaps him again, the other cheek. "You are worthless. Nothing more than a body to be used. Less than human. Do you understand?"
The Soldier nods. His cheeks sting red. He knows he can break The Doctor's neck—he is such a small Doctor—if he wants, but he does not want. The Doctor tells him the procedure was a success.
The Soldier is on execution duty today. There are three men in the pit and the hot desert sun bakes them alive. He drags them all out, one by one, and lines them against the wall. He removes their black hoods though he does not need to. They beg him in a language he only knows parts of, but he can understand what they say because they plead in the most rudimentary words. Please. Sorry. Family.
He dumps their bodies back in the pit with all the other bodies and makes a note that there will need to be a new pit soon because this one is almost full and the rotting stench has been wafting all over the base for some days now. He decides to start digging himself, though he does not need to, because he has already performed his duty for the day. Sweat soaks his fatigues yet he continues to dig until he passes out. The sun disappears and its heat echoes throughout the night.
He wakes up in his bed. The moon is out. Underneath his pillow is Alisha's note. He puts it in his pocket and goes to the mess hall. He thinks about calling her; maybe they could talk it out. But the more he thinks about it the less he wants to.
After his body is full of sustenance, he returns to the hole—his hole—and continues digging. He rips up Alisha's note and scatters it amongst the dirt. He looks up at the moon and realizes he will never climb back out.
He continues to dig.
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jdrev87
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jdq6n3o
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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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They made their presence known through the first strike.
Entire cities burnt and levelled, countless lives lost.
Our continents were forcefully reshaped under their endless barrage, our defences were a mockery of warfare in the face of their technology.
As the firestorms charred our world, they left, leaving the few who remained to slowly perish in witness of their might.
We were not subsumed by the agony of annihilation, it gave us purpose, focus and a target.
What did another humans colour and creed matter when *they* existed, what did our borders and religions matter to *them*.
We built our foundation in the ruins of our great cities, each body buried a brick to form our revenge.
Survivors worked tirelessly to preserve our years of knowledge and history, our past conflicts read as training for our future.
We would reclaim, rebuild, and surpass them, patience became our greatest virtue.
The universe was our anvil, the earth our hammer, perseverance our metal and a thousand years of limitless hate our forge.
A millennia passed, our society now technologically thousands of years ahead, fiction made reality, we predicted their arrival and prepared.
When scouts of their fleet entered our system, we remained still, patient and unafraid.
The rest of their armada soon followed, gathering near the aphelion of our home, waiting for us to pass, to strike.
As earth approached, the first they saw was a relic of our past, a satellite fitted with deprecated nuclear technology.
We heard their transmissions of confusion, we understood their language, we struck.
The universe itself buckled under our strength, screams of agony and horror filled our transmission feed.
As their fleets were swarmed and torn apart, we waited, after mere minutes, a meagre 10th of their fleet remained, we tracked their retreat and followed.
They would know futility, they would know fear, they would be an example, they would be dust under our will.
They had a name, but only we would remember it.
|
Audio log: Date, Febuary 9th 2020, Destroying 90% of the human population on earth, the aliens left, assuming that our society would crumble, and the rest of us would just fight each other, making us go extinct. But, That 10% they didn't destroy was part of Japan, America, and Germany. We have no idea when the aliens will be back, but the first sight of an alien craft entering our planets sphere of influence, we must destroy the ship.
I laughed my ass off as soon as I got confirmation on the destruction of the alien ship. By the way, my name is Void. After I was done dying of laughter, I gave the green light to launch what I like to call "The Hunters". The hunters is a fleet of capital class and standard class ships that are both nuclear and biologically capable. I decided to hitch a ride on the flag ship, nicknamed the God of War. The two flagship escorts are named the twin slayers. The main Assault, or Attack, ships, I call the Fifth fleet. There are going to be support ships arriving about thirty minutes after our initial attack on the alien home world.
Me: "Hahahah, after one thousand years, we will find this alien species home world, and just wipe it off the galactic map."
:Radar manager "Sir, we're getting reports from \[REDACTED\], appears to be more aliens dropping from hyperspace."
Me: "Go ahead and open fire, non-nuclear as a test."
:Combat and Radar manager: "Yes Sir!"
I get confirmations from the radars that the ships have been destroyed, but I realized something was wrong.
Me: "CEASE FIRE, SOMETHINGS WRONG!"
Combat manager: "CEASING!"
Me: "Those smart ass aliens, any reports from \[REDACTED\], don't engage unless they engage first."
Radio: "10-4."
I was about to give the order to start charging the Frameshift-drives when we were hit with something.
Combat manager: "WE'VE BEEN HIT WITH SOMETHING!"
Me: "WELL FIGURE OUT WHERE THE HELL IT CAME FROM OPEN FIRE, USE NUCLEAR WEAPONRY TO MAKE THEIR SURVIVAL CHANCES ZERO!"
Combat manager: "SIR, THOSE MISSILSE WERE CAUSTIC, WE NEED TO START OVERHEATING THE SHIPS."
Thirty seconds go by...
Me: "WELL??? WAITING FOR A KISS AND A COOKIE???? IF YOU NEED TO GO AHEAD AND UN-STABILIZE THE REACTOR!! JUST GET THIS DAMN CAUSTIC SHIT OFF OUR SHIPS!"
We must of lost at least 25% of our entire fleet. We managed to jump to a star-system with an earth-like world with breathable oxygen. We decided to set up a Dyson sphere so we could harvest as much energy as possible for a super-weapon. Only 5% of the energy will be used for construction of several space docks and ship yards for the construction of the ships we lost and then more.
After three years, we increased our fleet size by 300%, not included the ships we did need to replace. We sent out several ASP Explorers, ships designed with a high jump range and high maneuverability to escape any combat situation. We still haven't found the alien home-world. We decided to call the species S-1, species 1. Our super weapon I mentioned is done, but needs to be put into several Heavy cargo ships in order to be transported.
(god school is literally deleting all of my creativity
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j8idage
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j8hxkdz
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[WP] You were kidnapped by a villain and he gloats about how you're bait for his arch-nemesis, and you'll be dead soon. You sigh and just look at him. "Buddy, its not that hero you need to worry about....its my wife." and he looks at you perplexed.
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"Your wife?" The villain, known as James the Terrible, because he was terrible at villainy, seemed amused. I would have pinched the bridge of my nose if my hands hadn't been tied. "She's a lovely, tiny slip of a girl. We had her followed, of course. She's harmless. Completely ordinary. We thought this through Jason. Honestly. Have a little faith in me. "
I sighed heavily. "James, the day I have faith in you, is the day we are all lost. Atom Man won't be here before Liza is." I shook my head, and now it was my turn to be amused. "Did your henchmen happen to say where they were following Liza to?" James shook his head. More fool he.
"Honestly, if your best friend wasn't a hero, I'd have let you be." He moved his thin arms expensively, as if in apology. "Do you expect me to quiver in my boots at the thought of your wife?" An attempt at a malicious laugh followed this. It was more of a wheeze and James cleared his throat to make another attempt.
At the same time, however, a few explosions went off. Usually this would be chalked up to the man's own issues using explosives. I knew better though. "Yep," I said aloud as henchmen ran past James and I. "She's just an ordinary military wife." I was smiling.
"I erm... I didn't know you were in the military."
I was grinning now as a series of rapid fire shots went off.
"I wasn't."
My wife had a lot of friends. And those friends mobilized quickly. It was almost a shame to see the shock register on James' face as soon as the first bullet went through his kneecap. "Ah yes, my tiny wife. Who hides very easily. And tends to go to the gym every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. And who goes to the shooting range every day of the week but Sunday."
That had been at my insistence. A scream from James curdled the air as another bullet took out his other kneecap. "Yes James. My wife. The sniper."
I would have laughed had it not been so pitiful. A couple of shots were fired at the back of the cave mouth. I heard a familiar voice saying, "all clear."
"Hi honey." It was a quick enough greeting. She strolled up beside me in full tactical gear, cutting my bindings as she kissed my cheek.
"Honestly. These 'villains' are terrible at doing their homework." She was completely calm. Not always a good thing.
"I think we can leave him here for Atom Man. Not likely he'll be walking off anytime soon." She nodded and made a quick motion with her hand, signaling her teammates to fall back.
"Come on then. Dinner's going to be cold before we get home."I shrugged and stood.
"Seriously James, you are terrible at this."
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“Ahahah,” Vithego laughed maniacally. “I finally got you.”
“Yea you got me, what now?” I asked nonchalantly.
“I kill you as soon as The Champion arrives and then I kill him,” The Villain said.
“Ohh, good plan,” I said. “Too bad you will be eaten alive before he arrives.”
“What?” Vithego asked.
“Just wait and see, should be any minute now.” With a big smile.
Vithego was a well-known villain with a grudge against The Champion, my best friend, for putting his wife in prison for life. His plan was not a bad one, he was a master of traps and gadgets, so bringing a fight to his terrain which he fully rigged with traps and gadgets was a good idea. But he did not know a small, but very important, piece of information. That is that my wife was the most powerful being on the planet, maybe even the universe.
“What is he waiting on?” Vithego asked.
“He can’t fly all that fast, you know that,” I said. “And you brought me like 50 kilometers from the city. What are you expecting for him to miraculously teleport here?”
“Oh shut up,” He said. “You are rather annoying, I can’t wait to kill you.”
“Ohh she is going to enjoy eating you,” I said.
“What-” He was cut short as suddenly a wall behind him crushed and as the dust settled a tiny female figure appeared behind him. My wife in a human form looked so fragile and gentle.
“Honey, are you ok?” She asked me.
“Never been better,” I answered.
“Who the hell are you?” Vithego asked.
“Someone who’s the husband you probably should have kidnapped,” She said.
“Ohh, fine, I’ll kill you too,” Vithego said and fired a set of nets and darts at my wife.
She easily evaded them all with inhumane speed and left the villain with a dumbfounded look on his face.
“What in the hell?” He asked and used more of his gadgets including explosive devices. A few of them landed near my wife but she was unfazed. Her sweater on the other hand got ripped badly.
“Oh… You have ruined my favorite sweater. And I was contemplating leaving you alive.” She said and turned into one of her other forms, a giant three meters creature with an elongated crocodile-like jaw.
She rushed at him in her monstrous form as I cheered her tied down on the ground next to a pole.
Ten seconds later it was all done, nothing was left of the Villian. My wife turned back into her human form and walked towards me to cut the rope that restrained me.
“Ohh, he was tasty,” She said. “This should keep my appetite in check for some time.”
Minutes later my best friend, The Champion, flew in and saw me and Ella dusting our clothes off.
“Oh thank god you are fine,” He said looking at me. “I came as soon as I heard.”
“Well you were pretty late,” Ella said.
“Ella…” The Champion said and looked at my wife.
“Greg…” My wife said back.
“Where is Vithego? I need to bring him in and finally reunite him with his wife,” He said.
“Oh, that won’t be possible,” Ella said. “He is in my tummy.”
“You ate another one?” The Champion asked with anger in his done.
“He was a dick,” Ella answered. “And he had my love kidnapped.” I just shrugged.
“I told you a dozen times already, you can not keep eating people, I’ll have to stop you eventually,” He said.
“Not if I eat you first,” Ella mumbled.
“What?” He asked.
“Nothing, nothing,” She said.
“Ohh, you two, stop it!” I said. “Let’s go grab something to eat.”
“I can’t, I am full,” Ella said laughing and The Champion just nodded his hear in disbelief.
​
Check my [SUB](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/) for more stories.
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j6q77rf
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j6q1fbx
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[WP] As the god of reincarnations, when neither Hell nor Heaven want a soul, it is your job to reincarnate it appropriately. One specific soul keeps coming back to you not so long after each reincarnation. After a while, you decide to investigate why the soul keeps coming back to you.
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Technicalities. That's how this tortured one keeps coming to my office. That's the conclusion I've come to after investigating this case. Hell rejects the goody goodies, and Heaven rejects anyone who deliberately ends his life prematurely.
The trouble is, this soul seems to desire Heaven, but also has chronic terminal depression. So, in every life he's lived, he does his best. Seriously; if Heaven would just make an exception to their suicide clause, this guy would probably own **several** mansions!
In his first life, he deliberately got himself martyred during the Reformation. There are multiple churches built in his honor, but since he chose the fire, Heaven denied him entry.
In his second life, he was a cat. The guy used his body mass to fling a child away from a horse carriage, and he got himself run over in the process.
In his third life, he was human again. The guy ran into a burning building and saved a child, but died afterwards from smoke inhalation.
Fourth life; he was a dog. Rescued a drowning victim and drowned himself.
Fifth life; human again. Threw himself on a grenade.
Sixth life; squirrel. Saved a toddler from rabid raccoon. Died from infection.
Seventh life; human again. This time, he lived to sixty-three, but took poisoned medicine to save a relative.
I look up from my paperwork. This old soul in front of me has crying eyes, but is smiling for my sake. I feel like I'm guilty just by being in his presence. I'm at a loss for what to do; I don't have override authority. There's no appeal process that I can use for him.
So, I do the only thing I can for him. I haven't done this in millennia. I summon my books and refresh my memory.
Looks like the world is getting one last unicorn.
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99912672036.
Why did that number keep coming up? Every time I saw it, it would be marked:
* Heaven: Refused
* Hell: Denied Entry
It's not uncommon to see a number more than once; someone may need to be reincarnated a few times to become worthy of Heaven or Hell. But I had this number memorized. Sometimes they'd be back within days, other times, months or years. But they always refused Heaven, that was the weird part.
The day came when the soul stood before me.
"What is your name?" I asked.
"Shay." The soul took the glowing, translucent form of a middle aged woman.
"Shay, I see that you have refused to go to Heaven -- again. You have refused Heaven 6,354 times. You have lived well enough to get into Heaven more than six thousand times, and refused every time. Why?"
The soul cried luminescent tears. "All I've ever had in life is my daughter. One daughter. In my dreams, I'm a lobster whose larvae are all eaten but one, a frog whose tadpoles all dry out except one, a dog whose puppies are all taken but one, a parrot with three eggs but only one hatched. It's always me and my daughter. But she's always so sickly. She always dies so young, too young to get into Heaven or Hell. So I follow her."
"You... have a good memory, Shay. What's your daughter's name?"
"Taylor. Taylor Marie Cooper."
From the eternal, infinite waiting room, a soul sprang forth. It took the form of a toddler girl.
Shay picked up the toddler. Both souls glowed brighter.
"Shay and Taylor, you are together. Taylor, your mother has followed you every time you've reincarnated to learn a lesson, did you know that?"
Taylor stared at Shay and grabbed her face with chubby hands. Again, both souls glowed brighter.
"You have much to learn, but with every lesson, your mother loses you again. This will continue for many more lessons. It is your fate, and her choice to follow you."
Shay and Taylor pressed their foreheads together, glowing more brightly.
"The Gates of Heaven stand before you! Shay, will you finally enter Heaven, knowing that Taylor will be along as soon as she's finished learning lessons? Taylor, will you give your mother permission to go to Heaven, knowing that you'll be there in just a few lessons?"
"No." Now cheek to cheek, they answered in unison.
"Where she goes, I go," Shay said.
"Then I have no choice." I tried my best to hide a smirk. "Shay, how do you feel about losing Taylor every lifetime?"
"It's eternal torture."
"That sounds a lot like Hell, a place which denied you entry. I have no choice but to take Taylor out of the reincarnation cycle and send her to Heaven with you."
"You can do that?" Taylor asked in a surprisingly clear voice.
"I am a God. Yes, I can do that!" I chuckled. "Shay! Would you like to ascend to Heaven with Taylor?"
"Yes! Please!" Shay sobbed.
The Gates of Heaven opened with a dazzling light. Shay hurried inside, holding Taylor closely.
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jb7k0xo
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jb70ypq
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[WP] Humans are the proverbial "Sleeping Giant," and thus make remarkably good deterrents. A common tactic of the Galactic Federation is to simply call in a human warship, such as the USS "Fuck Around and, FindOut," and simply let it sit nearby. Peace Talks happen within the week.
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It was an unusually busy day on GalHub 4. The Ritians and the UnderRitians were at each other's throats, the coffee printers were on the fritz, and the Logari embassy was on fire. The whole station seemed to be about to boil over into one big tangle of diplomatic incidents.
The call center was sinking into an ocean of chaos. All the switchboard lights were on, each of them blinking with escalating severity codes. The staff had never seen so many red levels coming in at once.
In the central offices, the supervisors were desperately trying to hold things together. It was almost like the whole Galactic Federation was trying to pull itself apart at once. In Section B11, a beleaguered Bublon smoothed his ears, replaced his headset, and tried to ignore the wails around him as he connected to the next call in the queue.
"Peacekeeping Division, this is Tombo. Sorry for the delay, we're experiencing higher than normal call volume-"
The screaming from the other end interrupted Tombo's script, and continued for quite some time. The Bublon supervisor loosened his tie, took it off, folded it neatly, opened his lower desk drawer, and traded the tie for a bottle of very-against-policy Kuiper Brandy. By the time Tombo took his second pull of brandy, the screaming had stopped. Tombo cleared his throat and reassembled his Customer Service Voice.
"Yes, ma'am, I can hear you. Yes, I have your system profile up on my screen. You don't have a navy registered with us, is that correct? Yes, undefended? And the Ducrons are in orbit now? Are they-"
More screaming. The Bublon muted himself, took a quick drink, and resumed talking.
"Yes, I heard. We can-" Tombo checked his second monitor and tabbed through the naval dispatch list. "-we can have a GalFed battle group in-system within three hours-"
The screaming transitioned from terrified to angry.
"Ma'am, yes, I understand. Yes, unacceptable, of course. But that's- No, that's against policy-"
A blast of rage-filled epithets blew through the headset speakers. Tombo calmly muted himself, took off the headset, drained the bottle of brandy, and tossed it in the general direction of the trash can. He took a few quick breaths and replaced the headset, then, closing his eyes, toggled the mic back on.
"Ma'am, I understand that a standard battle group does not fit your needs, but- Yes, you're a valued customer and trading partner, but- We're not in the habit of- Oh, alright, hold on."
Tombo returned to the naval dispatch list and scrolled down.
"There is only one human ship nearby. It's a, let me see, yes, it's a Missile Destroyer. Ma'am, I remind you that all calls are recorded for quality assurance, and I need you to state clearly that you would prefer the single human vessel to the official GalFed Peacekeeping Naval Forces battle group."
For once there was no screaming, only a perfectly calm 'yes.' And then a question.
"The name? Ah, it's called the *Don't Make Me Get The Belt*."
Some light-years away, aboard a small gray ship with an excessive number of missile tubes, a bored-looking comms officer turned to his commander and said, "I've confirmed the request for intervention. It's a red level, shots fired."
The commander stubbed out his naval-issue cigar and rubbed his mustache. He eyed the chalkboard on the wall beside the access hatch. Scrawled at the top was 'Wars Prevented,' followed by a number of tally marks. Under that was 'Wars Ended,' with only one mark.
The commander smiled. "We'll take the lead this month for sure. Prepare for transit. The *Belt* is going hunting."
The small gray ship vanished into FTL, its grinning shark mouth wide with hunger.
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“Zorvax and Xalaxites are getting into it again in Sector 37AZ,” Zorba said while checking reports on his monitor.
“That’s what like fourth time this week?” Yulok asked scratching one of his heads with his middle tentacle.
“Fifth actually,” Zorba said looking over the reports.
“Is it time?” Yulok asked. “Should we call in the big guns?”
“According to the Galactic Federation, it is, the fifth strike and we have to interfere,” Zorba said and Yulok’s tentacles wobbled in excitement.
“Let’s call in the Humans,” Yulok said with a squeaky voice and pressed a few buttons on his console.
In the vast expanse of the galaxy, countless civilizations coexist, some peacefully, and some not so much. The Galactic Federation, a coalition of species from across the universe, was established out of necessity to maintain peace and stability among these diverse species across the galaxy. However, sometimes conflicts arise, and when they do, the Federation has a secret weapon: the humans.
Humans, as it turns out, are remarkably good deterrents. Their reputation for being fierce, unpredictable, and warlike is known throughout the galaxy. But the most likely reason they are feared all around is their history of nuking their own planet several times throughout history if they are willing to do that to themselves, what would they be capable of doing to others. So even though humans are relatively new to the intergalactic community, their military prowess is already legendary.
Within a week of the human ship's arrival, peace talks usually start. The mere threat of human intervention is enough to force the warring parties to the negotiating table. Even the most stubborn and belligerent species known to the Galactic Federation didn’t don't want to incur the wrath of the humans.
Of course, humans are not without their own agendas. They know that their reputation is their greatest asset in the galaxy, and they're not afraid to use it to their advantage, making insane money, exploring the uncharted territories of space, and claiming the empty planets they find for themselves. The Federation is happy to let them do so, as long as it means that peace can be maintained.
Soon after they sent the request the answer came from the Human control center, the available ship nearest to that sector was The USS 'Fuck Around and Find Out'.
“They answered,” Yulok said with excitement.
Zorba nodded reading over the message they received. "The USS 'Fuck Around and Find Out' is available, it should do the trick. That one always seems to get the job done in just a few days."
Yulok grinned with all of his head. "I can't wait to see the look on those Zorvax and Xalaxites' faces when they see that The USS 'Fuck Around and Find Out' is in orbit."
Zorba chuckled. "They'll think twice before starting another fight after this. I gotta admit, I did not like the humans at first when we accepted them into the Galactic Federation due to their nature. But hot damn if it’s not fun having them on our side."
“Tell me about it,” Yulok said. “I love their interventions, it’s better than the movies. I’ll prepare some of the best human cuisines for us to watch this masterpiece, the popcorn!”
Zorba nodded finally cracking a smile of his own with one of his two mouths, “Love me some popcorns.”
Yulok quickly scurried off to prepare the human cuisines, while Zorba began to make arrangements to inform the Federation of the upcoming intervention by the USS 'Fuck Around and Find Out'.
As they settled in to watch the action, Yulok brought out the popcorn and they both eagerly awaited the arrival of the human warship.
Within a matter of hours, the USS 'Fuck Around and Find Out' arrived in orbit next to the Galactic Federation Center where Zorba and Yulok worked, before heading over to Sector 37AZ. Two aliens watched in awe as the massive vessel dwarfed everything else in the sector.
“They sure make ‘em big,” Zorba said.
“I heard they run on 6 cores instead of one or two like most other civilizations,” Yulok said. “And that design, it’s so unnecessary and tacky but I love every second of it.
Zorba chuckled. "That's the humans for you. They may be a bit...excessive, but they get the job done."
As they watched the USS 'Fuck Around and Find Out' depart towards Sector 37AZ, Zorba and Yulok couldn't help but feel a sense of relief knowing that the humans were on their way to intervene in the conflict between the Zorvax and Xalaxites and stop a possible war, but they also felt the sense of excitement as they will get to watch masters at work.
*Like the story? Check out my sub* r/LukasWrites *for more!*
[Part 2 up below](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/11keke0/comment/jb7d5su/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)
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j3hhb3u
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j3h6w2i
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[WP] They stole you from your world when you were but a young girl, and they forged you into a magical weapon that has been feared across the cosmos. Now that the war is over and you've won, they send you back to the moment before they captured you. The skills, PTSD, and memories? Those never fade.
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I was 13 when I was stolen away in the night. Pulled through the invisible cracks in the universe, my soul strained through a sieve so fine not even lone atoms could pass.
When I was reformed amidst their greatest teachers, it must have been such a shock to them.
They said that they had been trying to summon their ancient protector, who passed beyond their universe long ago, but who promised to return in their time of need.
But travel itself gives power, and they knew that whoever I was, whatever I was, I had come from unimaginably far away.
And so I was made to be their student, their greatest achievement, their greatest weapon.
I was 16 when I first ended the life of another person. She was the Enemy, she was dangerous, she had clearly been sent to kill me and the other students... And she was kind, and beautiful... Before I stripped the flesh from her bones, and used her blood to boil the village she came from.
They thought that my tears were form the pain of using the power. They thought that my anger was at those who would send people to kill us.
I was 20 when I was given my first mission. And I was still 20 when, unknown to those who summoned me, I killed those who they had sent to observe, and made my way not to the camp of the enemy, but to the ruins of a library in the blasted wastes that lay between their lands, and 'our' own.
I was 21 when I made my choices, and swore oaths which bound my very soul.
I was 25 when they deemed me truly ready. When they wrapped the last spell around my mind, and when they unleashed my full power.
The spell was a thing of wonder, a Great Work for all the ages. It ensured that I could not be suborned. That I would have purpose, that I would _know_ what must be done, and that I would do it.
They did not know about my oaths.
I was 27 when the war was over. When the leaders on both sides were gone. When the last of the Great Mages died. When I broke the bindings they made, which bound the people of their world to their vision and will.
And then, as I knew that it was over, that the killing was done, that the pain was nearly at the end, when my body could no longer contain the power that they unleashed...
The last of their Great Works, the last of their lies, broke.
And the spell that had held me to their world all that time shattered, and with it, my power, my soul, and my mind.
I was 14 when I was finally able to stop screaming. When I regained some semblance of coherence, and perhaps even sanity.
I was in a hospital, in a room with padded walls, and a body that had seen far better days.
I was 15 when I could recognize my own name, when the words of others were indeed more words than random noise. When I could make it through a day without ending up in a screaming, convulsing pile.
I was 16 when I was allowed out into the world. Cautiously. Carefully.
With promises that I could return. That all I had to do was call, or hit the button on my wrist, and that no matter where I was, there would be someone to take me somewhere safe.
I was 16 when I met her. Just a girl in the park, smiling at me shyly, and asking me if I was okay.
Being worried when I said that I wasn't sure. Sitting with me, for what must have been hours, until it was less noisy, and I was more sure.
She was kind.
I thought I understood what I was, what the dangers were, what was delusion, and what was reality.
It wasn't until I was surrounded by the dead and the dying, covered in their blood, pouring power not meant for this world out in vast, wild, but controlled streams that I realized how wrong I was.
But she was still alive, still breathing... And despite everything, despite what I had just _done_, despite all the blood, despite the pain of the bullet holes I was desperately trying to heal in her, the broken bones being pulled back into place, between the tears she smiled at me.
And that was when I learned the most important thing of all:
I didn't have to be a weapon of terror. I didn't have to kill the innocent. I didn't have to repeat my mistakes.
When the police and paramedics arrived, they didn't really know what to make of the scene. But _enough_ was clear.
Two teen aged girls, covered in blood. Bullet holes in their clothes. Sitting in the burnt wreckage of the remains of a pickup truck. Surrounded by dead boys and men, guns in some of their hands, with the survivors whimpering in terror about the unclean abominations who called down witch craft upon those who were supposed to cleanse the unholy.
Yes, I broke their minds. They deserved it.
As for her? As for me?
I was 17 when I finally told her my full story. As much as I have ever remembered anyhow.
And despite all that I knew, all that I expected... I was 17 when she told me that none of it was my fault.
And I was 19 when she asked me to marry her.
|
I stared at the monster in my closet. He had red glowing eyes and two pointy horns on his head.
“Go away! I told my mummy about you and she said you’re not *real*. So leave me alone!”
The monster smiled at me, his fangs reflecting the moonlight coming through my window.
“That’s fine. If I’m not real, there’s no harm in coming with me. In my world, you would be treated as a princess.”
I sat up. “A princess?”
The monster’s smile widened. “Of course. And instead of horses, we ride unicorns!”
I was intrigued. Still, why did he have to look like *that?* When my sister Mary-Beth was living in this room, she told me she was visited by a handsome elf with beautiful green eyes.
He held out his hands. “All you have to do is close your eyes and say ‘I accept’ and I can take you away.
I held his hands. They felt *so* warm, like a pizza right out of the oven! “I accept.”
Everything went black.
When I opened my eyes, I was in what looked like a throne room. Sitting on the throne was...the monster in my closet! “Forgive me for the theatrics, chosen one. I need your assistance to save our realm.”
*Chosen one?* “Who are you? Where am I? What’s happening?”
“I am Kha-Mett, King of the Orcs. It was prophesised that you would be instrumental in winning the war we find ourselves in. We will bind your soul to the Royal Sword and use it to defeat our enemies.”
I started tearing up. “I don’t want to be a sword. I want to be a princess like you *promised*.”
He sneered. “I don’t remember promising anything. It would be easier for you if you don’t resist.”
I suddenly realised there were Orc soldiers standing in front of pillars all over the throne room and I was all alone. I dropped to the ground and closed my eyes hoping that this was still all in my imagination or a bad dream.
When I opened my eyes I saw Kha-Mett standing over me. “Come with me.”
I had no option but to follow him. After walking for about five minutes, we entered a room with several swords hung up on the far wall. It felt almost like a temple. At the centre was a sword with several diamonds and rubies encrusted on the hilt. He removed it from the wall and motioned for me to follow him to a smaller room to the side.
Inside the room was a small orc surrounded by all kinds of parchments and glowing orbs.
Kha-Mett cleared his throat. “Olog, I have found the chosen one.”
“By the gods, we’re saved!” He rushed out and gave me a big hug. He smelled like my dad after he’s been drinking all day.
Kha-Mett put the sword on the table in the middle of the room.
Olog pointed to a wooden chair. “Have a seat, Tina”. *How did he know my name?*
He put one hand on my forehead and another on the hilt of the sword. He started mumbling some nonsense words. I suddenly felt like I was being *yanked out* of my body and everything went black.
The first thing I noticed was the cold. I was suddenly freezing. I opened my ‘eyes’ but everything was so clouded. I saw my body still on the wooden chair. *Am I dead?*
I was looking out from the table where the sword was! *I just want to go home.*
I felt a sense of nausea as Kha-Mett picked me up and started moving me about. I couldn’t feel his hands. All I felt was the cold.
Olog bowed before Kha-Mett. “My Lord, the only way to win the war is to pierce Katar’s heart with this sword. Only the chosen one can kill him as per the prophecy.”
The next few days were a blur. Kha-Mett lead his orc armies against some Elves. Every time he pierced an Elf heart to kill them with me, I saw their whole life in a flash. Their wives, their children, their dreams. I could *feel* their pain as their blood stained my body.
Kha-Mett and I must have killed about sixty Elf guards on the way to Katar’s castle. A part of them would always stay with me.
Kha-Mett's army was successful in their siege of Katar’s castle. Katar hadn’t fled like Kha-Mett was afraid he would. No, he was right in the thick of it. He was killing Orcs left and right, even when his brethren were being slaughtered all around him. Was his sword..*glowing?*
Kha-Mett ran right up next to him. “This is for my mother!” He pushed me right through Katar’s heart.
I felt like I was going to explode with pain. I felt the weight of a Kingdom on my shoulders. I felt adoration and hatred. I felt love and sorrow.
I felt..empty.
Everything went black.
I stared at my closet door. There was no one there. I wiped sweat off my forehead.
I *had* to tell this to someone. I felt broken. I still felt the loss from every life I helped take. There was now an immense chasm where my previous memories stood.
Instead of my first time eating strawberry ice-cream, I remembered Athtar, an Elf who was conscripted at sixteen and had dreams of being a blacksmith. Instead of going to the mall and finding my favourite doll, I remembered Morthil, an Elf who had held his newborn son just a week prior to dying in battle. Instead of playing hide-and-seek with my sister, I remembered Vesryn, an Elf who was going to wed his beloved after the war was over.
I cried myself to sleep that night. The next morning, I told Mary-Beth everything. She inturrupted me halfway through and asked, “what was the Elf king called?”
“He was called Katar.”
Mary-Beth started tearing up. “I *knew* it was real.”
She must have seen the confused expression on my face. “Remember when I used to see the Elf in the closet? It was him! He said something similar about a prophecy and said I was the chosen one, and bound my soul to his sword. He said my bloodline was special. When he killed Orcs, I saw their lives flash before my eyes and felt what they felt.”
I hugged Mary-Beth. “How do I make the pain go away?”
She shrugged. “It will be with you till the day you die. All you can do is find healthy ways to cope.
Unlike dad with his drinking.”
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j5i9rlr
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j5i41lb
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[WP] you were bitten, you know your time is counted. So as a final act you decided drink all the booze and beer you collected until you passed out. The next morning you wake up with a headache but...still human
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"I doubt it's a cure," our doctor said. "Since you started pouring back nearly half our liquor ten minutes after you got back from scavenging, nearly dying of alcohol poisoning may have disinfected your entire body in the worst way possible. Frankly, you are lucky everyone here is happier that you are getting better than angry that all we have left is that moonshine Pat makes." After some chuckling he left me alone back in my broom closet of a quarantine room.
We had moved into a giant deserted steel mill. After all it seemed like a defendable place outside of an urban centre with no one on premises. It was big and empty at first, but slowly filled up with a good number of people and their personal projects (after all, we were looking for people who knew how to make/grow things). You had Pat; a homebrewer who clearly liked not remembering things, Ella; someone who blacksmithed as a hobby and a decent mechanic, and T; who knew how hydroponics worked and taught 30 others in order to produce our food on a large scale. There were at least a dozen others who knew this and that as well. I was welcomed because I fixed a fellow scavenger's bicycle, but I did more guard duty and "shopping trips" than bike repair.
If you did not have what was considered an "essential skill," you were put on the chore schedule, cooking, organizing, clothes washing, guarding, or guard duty among other things. Needless to say I got bit during my three day outing looking for rubber hoses and glass bottles for Pat. I brought everything back (including a lot of full ones from an un-smashed crate in a bar house store room.) and set them down in the fenced off crevice Pat used as a storeroom. Then realizing my mortality I took the keg tap from its peg it was hung on and began pouring from the kegs labeled "Negan's microbrew", and then everything else.
When I came to I was feeling like shit in a room who's one little window was far too bright. With a note on the door saying "try to rest I'll be back for your bedpan later.", also, there was a chain attached to a collar around my neck, locked to a remnant of a shelf bolted to the floor.Whether It was for the hangover or the zombie bite I felt like shit, I thought I might have gotten better by the end of the day but I honestly was not sure. By day three our doctor had unlocked the collar, but forbade my going out because I was "in trouble for drinking all the booze".
I never thought my biggest frustration in the apocalypse would be getting grounded.
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I awoke with a pulse in my head, a rhythmic throbbing so undeniable that I had to concede right then and there that it had become my heart and that I had passed on. It was only when I felt sweat on my brow and the clamminess of my wrists that it occurred to me that somehow I was still alive, still human. Which was shocking, after seeing her fangs within inches of my neck, then feeling the pinch of that incision. I remembered the warm blood trickling down my neck before I passed out. *Oh.*
Red, green, and yellow strobe lights created an amber menagerie against which I saw her gorgeous hair. As blonde as sunshine, or so it seemed until she came in for that kiss and I realized that it was white, not a pure white, but a dirty snow kind of white. I should have been suspicious, I hadn't even bought her a drink and here she was ready to make out with me? A woman like her? It was obviously a trap, and I was obviously a moron.
Yet, I seemed to have gotten away. I got up and looked around, seeing my hotel room just as I'd left it the night before. Yesterday's shorts hung on the chair by the desk, my luggage was strewn about the floor. Clarice was still gone. I wanted to feel bad, but for some reason, I couldn't. Was that argument only yesterday? Did she storm out of the hotel room and say she was flying home? I honestly hadn't believed her when she said we had to break up. How was she going to survive without me? It didn't seem possible, and I was certain that she'd show up again soon, apologetic.
I rose out of bed and looked at myself, expecting some kind of horror that I hadn't seen at first, but everything seemed fine. When I looked in the mirror I didn't see a bite wound, no sign of dried blood. It was as if the whole thing hadn't happened. Who was that girl? What was her name? It had all happened so fast. I saw her and she smiled at me, I came over and grabbed her hand, and began to dance. We went at it fast, so fast that within minutes I became dizzy. I remember pulling her off the floor, towards one of the couches. That's where it happened.
I was still shaking my head over the whole thing when I went into the bathroom, figuring I'd take a shower. That's when I saw her, lying in the tub full of water, her white hair as long as a horse's mane. I shrieked and backed away.
"Don't be shy," she said.
"W-what? What are you doing here?"
"Oh you poor boy, you don't remember a thing, do you?"
I stood speechless when I heard the door to the room open behind me.
"Anthony?" Clarice called out.
I started thinking of every profane word.
"Excellent," the white-haired woman said. "It has a little friend."
I ran out of the bathroom and shut the door.
"Who was that?" Clarice said with a creeping look of suspicion.
"Ahhh," I tried to think of something, a story to tell. Anything.
"One night and you went out and screwed someone, didn't you?" she said angrily.
"Ahhh."
The door opened behind me and before I knew it the white-haired woman had her arms around me.
"Help?" I said meekly.
Clarice's expression turned to confusion and she stood stupefied as I felt the white-haired woman's fangs sink into my neck, the warm draw of blood. The world went black again.
The rest of the story was told to me by Tabitha, who said that Clarice had been drinking me for quite some time and that she needed to be "taken out," although she won't go into the details of what happened. All I remember when I came out of the haze was the taste of someone's blood on my tongue. For a moment, I thought I'd been turned, but when I looked in the mirror in the hotel room all I saw was my good old human self.
r/StoriesToThinkABout
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m8dpv10
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m8dp29f
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[WP] "Fate has found you," said the sword buried in your rye field. "Wield me and banish the darkness, chosen one," it said. Problem is, you're a farmer in your 50s with more hair left on your gleaming head than you have patience for 'fate' and 'chosen ones.'
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“By the holy order, you have been ordained to smite evil. Wield me, chosen of fate.” A single beam of sunshine broke through the dark clouds to illuminate the massive four and a half foot tall greatsword.
Walking nearby, George the Deaf looked over, slightly surprised.
“What?”
“Fate has found you,” said the obnoxiously large sword sticking out of the dead pine tree. The pine tree that was very much alive last night. The one that George’s grandfather had planted when he was a boy. What a beautiful tree that used to be.
“Aye. You’re going to have to speak up, I’m a bit hard of hearing you see.” Said Deaf George.
“I do not speak your human language but speak directly into your mind Warden George.”
“What?”
“I said I… you’re fucking with me aren’t you George.”
“Aye and your fate is a bit late. Not the spry goose I once was with a burning desire to fix things and smite evil. Now I’m just a simple farmer. What’s this about banishing the darkness? It’s morning, the darkness receded a few hours ago and I have a field to plow, and apparently a Pine tree to replant.”
“There were… complications. However I have now arrived and the darkness with which I speak is not your common night Warden George. Nay, I speak of the darkness within the hearts of man. Simply pull this sword from the Pine Tree and ….”
“Wait, how did you get there anyway? Can you like fly? Can’t you just… smite the darkness yourself?”
“That… well, no. I am a sword. I must be carried and wielded by a chosen one.”
“So… how did you get there then?”
“That… so my previous Warden, Warden Chris left me here to find the next chosen one.”
“Wait, you don’t mean Simple Chris down in Kibbler’s Farm. The one who got kicked by a horse? He was the chosen one?”
“Yes. And his service is now ended and your glory begins today Warden George.”
“Yeaaa… I’m sensing something amiss here. Who does this choosing, exactly?”
“Well the fates are a mysterious thing, and…”
“Chris left you here and I’m the only person who has walked up, so you chose me, didn’t you?”
“…”
“…”
“So… does that mean you refuse the call?”
“I’m going to put a small fence around this tree and charge youths to try and pull you out.”
“…”
“…”
“Please no.”
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"Woss that?" Alaron muttered as he smacked the dirty blade against his plow, brow furrowed. There was no doubt it was a sword, and a very old one from the look of it.
*The Darkness is gathering...*
Alaron looked around his field, but there was no one there. The voice didn't seem to come from the blade...it was just...there. He took his hat off and wiped his brow with the back of his free hand. Hanging his hat on the handle of his plow he fished a cloth from his pocket and mopped his nearly bald pate, still looking the sword over.
It was a wicked-looking thing, slightly curved and just over a meter in length with a blood groove that was flanked by runes that had been etched into it. The crossguard was likewise etched with strange characters, the hilt wrapped with wire and the pommel inset with a violet gemstone the likes of which he had never seen.
*We belong together.* The voice spoke again, more clearly now. It had a lilting accent, one that sounded pleasant to the farmer's ears.
"Do you hear that, Petrolo?" Alaron patted his ox on the rump. The ox swished its tail but made no reply, probably grateful for the respite from its labors. Plucking his hat from the plow, Alaron looked around the field again, the sword forgotten in his hand. He moved up and scratched the ox behind its ear, eliciting a grateful lowing sound. "Chosen One...ha! Chosen to till this field, I think!"
*There is work to be done.* the voice came again, more clearly than before. *You cannot fight Destiny.*
"I think we might be done for today, Petrolo..." the farmer sighed as he glanced up at the sun. It was lower in the sky than he expected...and that was peculiar, he had only stopped plowing a few minutes ago.
Standing behind his plow once again he reached for the handles and blinked in surprise at the sword he was carrying. It was much cleaner now than it was a few minutes...hours...ago.
*We were meant to be together.* the voice sang to him as he slipped the blade into the braces of the plow, hanging it by the crosspiece.
"Together." Alaron muttered softly and shook his head. He had been alone for the past three years after his wife died from the pox. Just him, his ox Petrolo, and the rest of the animals on his small patch of land.
*You don't have to be alone anymore* the voice assured him. *I will help you.*
That night Alaron dreamed of a great, shining city...one that felt strangely familiar to him. Like home, but part of him wondered at that...he had been born on his father's farm, had inherited it with his father's passing. Still, it was only a dream, and dreams had no obligation to make sense.
In the morning when he woke Alaron immediately set about a regimen of stretching before beginning to exercise. Then he picked up his sword and practiced the forms until the sun rose over the horizon.
It wasn't until he was eating his breakfast that it occurred to him to wonder how he knew the sword forms. Chewing slowly he looked at the sword that lay gleaming on the opposite side of the table.
*We shall bring the Light together*, it sang to him. *You will achieve your Destiny.*
"Yes..." Alaron agreed as he lifted a mug of tea and nodded sharply. "We will be the Light of this world."
It never occurred to him that he had learned a new language overnight.
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m81ww5p
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m8035kq
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[WP] She hadn't made a milkshake in years for fear that they would return.. She starts the blender reluctantly.. In the distance, screams.. The boys had returned. They were. coming to her yard.
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She needed the milkshake like an addict needs a fix. The blender sound alone brought her tongue to salivation, but in the same moment it brought her ears to attention. A different kind of rumble reached her and she knew, as she had known before pressing down the 'On' button, that it was the boys en route to her yard.
They arrived.
Her kitchen window looked out onto her yard, and there they were, the neighborhood boys. Not a milkshake in fifteen years but here they were. Were they the same boys that had hounded her home last time she attempted a milkeshake? She couldn't say, but they were pre-teens. Short little monsters frothing at the mouths and screaming.
"Give us the milkeshake!" she heard.
"The milkeshake commands us!"
"Bring us the shaky milk!"
"My life for milkeshake!"
She turned off the blender, but the boys kept stomping in her yard, seemingly coordinated.
"Take me for the milkeshake!" one screamed.
"What?" she said aloud to herself. Come, you can do this. They're boys. They aren't a threat. Go. confront the little bastards.
She went to the front door, and opened it.
"What do you want!" she shrieked at them.
"Take Jamie for the milkshake!" they yelled altogether, pointing at one of their lot, as if rehearsed. "He is a berry!"
"What the fuck," she whispered.
"And take Mickey!" they screamed, arms darting unnaturally to point at another of them. All in unison. "He is a pineapple!"
"My god you want me to blend you!?" she yelled. It felt so nonsensical. No one was around. Just this congress of boys tormenting her.
"Blend us!" they screamed with delight. "Take Alexander, he is a melon!"
They screamed this as if being murdered. The pre-teen screams broke up and they repreated their urging for each of them, yelling what fruit they were, screaming, screaming, screaming bloody murder. All save one.
Caught up in the moment she screamed back, pointing at the last boy. "What about him!?" she heard herself hurl. Why?
"Take him take him!" the others chanted back. And she knew in that moment, somehow, primordially perhaps, but she knew--the curse was about to be complete because of her instigation, and she would blend them all into her milkshake when the last boy was indicated. They pointed. They screamed.
"Bob is a banana!"
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Sarah awoke startled from her afternoon nap. She had only meant to lie down for a few minutes, and here she was 2 hours later, groggy and disoriented. She remembered her dream vividly, though, and her stomach gurgled just thinking about it.
She had been moments away from taking a sip of the most delectable looking chocolate milkshake. The cup was cold to the touch, the frothy drink covered in a heaping tower of whipped cream. It had looked absolutely *delicious*.
Her mouth was watering just thinking about it. It had been years since she’d last been able to indulge in her favorite treat, either at home or otherwise. There was always someone watching. Sarah knew the reward was not worth the risk.
But now, Sarah was alone. She sat and listened to the silence of her empty home. Her nearest neighbor was miles away, and her husband was long gone. The only time she visited him now was at his grave.
The image of the milkshake was burned into her mind. She hobbled her way to the kitchen, grabbing her cane along the way and leaning heavily for balance as she carefully walked down the stairs. Her body wasn’t what it used to be.
Soon the counter was lined with ingredients - ice cream, milk, chocolate syrup, and a can of whipped cream. Dust had settled in the blender after years of storage. Sarah rinsed the inside and begin filling it with the sugary contents of her chocolate milkshake.
Sarah hesitated before pressing the blender on, listening for the sounds of anyone watching. She was only met with the groaning of the trees outside as they were moved by the steady wind. No one was here to watch her. She lifted a shaky finger and pressed the blender on.
A roaring noise filled the room while the contents of her milkshake were mixed into a frothy drink. After a few seconds, silence engulfed Sarah once again as the appliance was turned off. She waited a few seconds before pouring the mixture into a waiting glass and lifted the sweet treat to her lips.
Before she could even take a sip, she could hear the crunching of leaves from footsteps outside her door. A piercing scream filled the air, causing Sarah to drop her milkshake, glass shattering along the hardwood kitchen floor.
Pounding erupted against the door. Rather than answer, Sarah began backing away slowly, wanting to be anywhere but near the entrance to her home.
How had they heard her? Were they always watching? Had she ever truly been alone?
She moved quickly back up the stairs as she heard the lock on her front door strain against the intruders. Sarah had only taken a steps inside her bedroom when the hinges of the door below finally broke open. A scuffle of footsteps followed as her unwelcome guests began searching.
Sarah’s heart pounded in rhythm with the steps coming up the stairs behind her. There was no escaping. She knew what could happen if she made that drink, and she did it anyway. Perhaps she’d done it subconsciously. It had been so many years since she’d been with her husband - now it was time to join him.
A teenage boy stood in the front of the group of intruders, holding a large kitchen knife that glinted in the light. His accomplices waited behind, all covered in head to toe black. They were a young but menacing group.
An evil grin was plastered onto the boy’s face as the group began to enveloped her. “Hello, Sarah. We’ve been waiting for your mistake.”
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jdity87
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jdiohfy
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[WP] Just two people sitting on a park bench. No gods or monsters or spies or supernatural elements -- just two people sitting.
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"That's it then, eh?"
"That's it."
"Just the two of us on a bench."
"All ya need, really."
"Not exactly compelling, is it?"
"Who said it has to be? Everyone's out there bringing Death Itself, God, the Devil, floating head numbers and time travel... A little inconsequential chat would be nice, wouldn't it?"
"I guess I just don't much see the point."
"Not yet, at least."
"Oh, so you do? You see some grand purpose in this chat? In this bench?"
"Never said it would be grand."
"But there is *some* purpose. There's *something* to this, right?"
"..."
"..."
"Think I just saw a Blue Jay."
"Thrilling."
"..."
"How long do we have to sit here for? It's not like there's a grand story arc that will find a pointed resolution."
"I'm sure they'll wrap it up when they get bored of us."
"And then what?"
"Well, nothing really. Then we're done."
"So that's all we get? Just the two of us on a bench for a few paltry minutes until suddenly we *poof* out of existence?"
"I think you'll find we *all* have a time limit shorter than we'd like."
"Oh and do we *all* have to sit on a bench with an old soul who can't admit he's been dealt a shit hand in a rigged game?"
"You seem very upset about all this."
"Of course I'm upset! I coulda been a dragon! A god! One of those humans who wipes out an alien race because we're just so goddamn special!"
"Those stories all end too, y'know."
"Yeah well I coulda at least done something cool in my time."
"Hmm..."
"..."
"Beautiful day."
"There's no stopping you, is there?"
"I'm just trying to enjoy my time here, is that so wrong?"
"It's futile! Useless! We're gonna just stop existing any second anyway!"
"Ah yes. Much better to spend the time we have wishing it was some other way."
"I... Hm."
"Nice of them to make it so warm out for us."
"Yes, yes I suppose that much is nice."
"I think the two under that tree are on a date."
"I think you're right. I always loved picnic dates. Dirt cheap but some of my best dates have been just good conversation and a blanket in a park."
"Hmm... How do you think it's going for them?"
"Does it matter? We both know there's not gonna be a second date."
"Even so, I think it's going very well." The girl laughed at something the boy had told her, leaning her shoulder on his as she did. She said something back that sent him into his own fit of laughter, both going back and forth building on the bit. They were happy.
"...Yeah, I think you're right."
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He felt a tingle on his cheek, where the wisp of wind touched aging skin. Breathing in deep smells of fresh cut grass and blooming roses, life wasn’t all that bad. He rubbed his thighs with his hands to stem the slight ache of walking that accompanied him everywhere nowadays. Oh how he remembered the days where he could walk for hours on end without tiring. Aging wasn’t the struggle people made it out to be. You just had to pace yourself a little more. Sitting here on this bench in the park, under the budding branches of the birch trees was true bliss.
Next to him sat a young man, visibly exhausted. Not in a physical way, that made you catch your breath, but emotionally. The deep rims under his eyes spoke of hard times. The boy didn’t speak, or even acknowledged that he shared the bench, but he didn’t need to. Benches were made for two people, so two people sat on it side by side. He was curious about the life the young man lived. Whether he enjoyed the youth that was only given to him briefly. Did he go to school or had he found a job early in life? Maybe the boy didn’t have a job, a home even. Could the lad be homeless? That would explain the periwinkle stained bags under his eyes and his frail posture. Must be hard not having a safe place to sleep, having to struggle each day for food and water. Maybe he wasn’t homeless. He could’ve recently be confronted by the many other ills life throws at you. A break up or the death of someone close. He had forgotten that despite being contend with life at the end of it, it hadn’t always been this way. He too had known tough times. The visible strain on ones face wasn’t unfamiliar.
Maybe there was something he could do to lift the weight of struggle ever so slightly for this downtrodden youth. He took in the panorama of a park at early spring. Wind making trees wave at one another. Birds chirping and hopping from one spot to the other. People walking their dogs and talking to each other.
There! Under that old sturdy oak tree. A cart with wafts of smoke rising. The smell of freshly grilled sausages lifted by the currents of air until it reached his aging nose. He could hear the growling that betrayed the hunger of the human being next to him. He must have smelled the same smells. Oh how he remembered the torturous feeling of an empty stomach betrayed by scents without sustenance. He slowly raised his protesting body from the bench, his popping joints betraying his age to the world. If the young man next to him had noticed, he kept that fact to himself as he kept his eyes staring to whatever was in front of him.
He had reached the cart and found himself lucky with the absence of a queue. With clear and precise language he ordered two sausages on a bun and dropped the coins as payment in the salesman's hand. With both hands occupied he slowly made his way back to the bench, feet slightly scuffing over the path he walked.
Arriving at the bench sitting down was trickier than usual. Keeping his balance took more effort now that his muscles strained ever more. With slightly more force than anticipated he sat his aching body down on the creaking planks. Catching a few audibly breaths he took the bun in his right hand and put it out in front of the young man. The boy tilted his head and met his eyes. He nodded and the fellow grabbed the sausage bun with both hands and fervent eager.
On a quiet noon in early spring two men sat next to each other sharing food on a park bench under budding birch trees. Not a word was spoken, but within the silence a friendship bloomed out of compassion and gratitude between young and old.
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ji09pjt
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ji06qba
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[WP] You’re a scientist stuck in an Russian Artic research station. You’ve just killed your only colleague because the mysterious figures hidden in the snowstorm told you to do it.
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I sigh, sliding out of the cab with practiced ease. The Amazon was shaking, pale and mostly still in shock from her actions. She didn't even register my scooping the hero into a bodybag, plopping it into the trunk, and escorting her into the cab. Amazon returned after i took Nike's phone from her, the seat belt restraining her from snatching it back out of reflex.
"What, what's going to happen?" The villainess sounded so small at that moment.
"I take Nike to the hospital, her insurance pays for the resurrection, my guess is that you probably apologize profusely for going too far and make out in a dark corner of the Nameless Bar after one too many shots of Taquila." I smirk at the blush on one of—if not the—physically strongest villains in the world's face. Reminded me of when she first started out.
I toss the bag of hero, extra chunky, to the doctor, a look of grim determination on his face, only lightly tinged with horror and disgust. The Amazon tries to follow, having changed into civilian clothes that are provided, but i grab her arm, halting her dead.
"Whats the big-" I show her the fair for her ride.
"You took the ride, you get to pay."
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I arrived at the scene of the call, and know immediately this is not going to be a normal job. It looks like a tornado went through here; metals are twisted around, there's scorched marks everywhere, deep gouges on the concretes. And there at the middle, the Hero Prometheus is lying on the ground with blood pooling around him, whist the Villain Scarlett is standing over him, with the hero's phone in her shaking hand.
After calming down Scarlett, she started to explained what happened while I check up on Prometheus and giving first aid. She was escaping from a bank heist nearby when Prometheus intercept her and they start battling, pretty standard stuff. But then Prometheus start acting weird, twitching and muttering incoherently. Then he start screaming and started to destroy everything in the vicinity before passing out. Not knowing what to do and scared out of her mind, Scarlett rummaged around Prometheus's belonging and found his phone and called me. Thank heaven Prometheus saved my contact as Herocab, as per the Guardian guideline.
I sighed tiredly, another victim then...With Scarlett help, we loaded up Prometheus into the cab. After making sure Scarlett is okay and find her way home safely, I got in the cab and start driving away. I called a secret number and told them to prepare for another victim of the drug.
As I make my way through hidden paths and groves, I look back at Prometheus and the occasional light from outside just further emphasize how badly injured he is. I've been getting more and more call like this these past several months. and everyone of them weighs heavily on me.
This all started half a years ago when the Hero Zeus suddenly became active again. Considering he's a senior citizen way past his prime by several decades, the heroes community flocked to him to figured out his secret. I mean, he went from this frail old man stuck on a wheelchair and unable to even clean himself without help, into this six feet tall Adonis with bulging muscles and a full hair to boot. Heck, he's even more muscular and powerful now than when he was at his prime! But no matter how everyone pestered him, Zeus just laugh and kept his secret. Until that fateful day..
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m2j46t8
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m2j2ew1
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[WP] You’re a mercenary hired by adventurers to defeat the boss. After the battle, they loot the treasure and abandon you wounded. The defeated boss crawls over and says, “Guess we’re both expendable, huh?”
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'Guess we are. You gonna kill me now?'
"Depends. How's that wound?"
'You tell me. It's at least half my ribs broken, you asshole.'
"Eh, I was holding back. Yep, non-fatal. No mercy kill for you."
'Wait. You're letting me live?'
"Sure. You were Just doing your job."
'Don't try to play the I'm-actually-good card. You're a dungeon boss.'
"Someone's got to maintain the economy."
'Excuse me?'
"Hang on, let me just... Ow. Oh yeah, that hit a kidney. You were saying?"
'What do you mean, economy?'
"Here's a little secret. There's no Big Bad Dark Lord. But adventurers gotta adventure, amiright?"
'Uh...'
"There's a whole system. Blacksmiths, guilds, inns, the whole shebang. Treasury gives me gold, Party takes the gold, Party buys stuff, stuff gets taxed, I get paid."
'Im starting to feel a little dizzy....'
"Oh, don't be a baby. I've sent the signal, a priest will be over shortly."
'Even the Church is in on this?!'
"I think you mean *especially* the Church. Why do you think they so happen to know the location of every dungeon?"
'I... Don't... Why are you telling me this?'
"I was getting pretty lonely doing this job all by myself. Dungeon Bossing doesn't leave time for much conversation."
'Whats that got to do with anything?'
"Just thought maybe, you know, you'd like to join for for a bit. See some behind the scenes."
'Like an intern?'
"I was about to say minion, but yeah, sure. Intern."
'... How much does it pay?'
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Growing pains:
When an evil lord of chaos, fond of the typical fashion of dictators, decides to burn your town to the ground. And you survive.
First things first.
You probably want revenge.
Sure, your parents taught you the ways of the blade as well as that of the books. So you're not completely new to this path. But if there's one thing nobody ever fully explains.
A path towards vengeance hurts. A lot.
Especially when the first guild you strike out with does certain things. Namely, pay you to raid an orc clan alone. Then jump you immediately after you limp back to camp.
And so, here Grey found himself. Laying on his back in the mud as part of the camp burned nearby. He was bleeding of course, and it became clear the others might have stolen his health wares.
Clearly, this was intended to be a suicide mission for him. But of course, again, he survived.
In his bouts of consciousness, he knew it was only a matter of time. Someone or something, would find this place. And finish off anyone left alive. This meant him.
The answer of 'who' came shorter than expected. The leader of this small war party, dragged himself toward him. It had been a hard fought battle of at least an hour. Of course, Grey mused, he didn't finish the job.
The orc dragged himself closer to the maimed elf. Before dropping almost right next to him. A dagger still sticking partway out of his torso. He rolled to shove Grey and knock him over towards himself.
"Guess we're both expendable, huh?" The orc groaned.
It was rather funny. Grey would laugh if he could. It hurt too much to.
"...I'd say so." He finally responded.
The orc stared at his opponent. For an elf, he was a tough one. One eye was swollen shut, his face purple and dark on that side. Blood still trickling out of his nose.
They both unknowingly had a similar observation.
"You seem new to this sort of thing." Grey spoke.
"War? No."
"No." Grey breathed. "Running a camp."
The orc rumbled with a weak laugh.
"Flattooth tried to do war." He groaned. "On own clan. Cut him down."
"Ah. You too, huh?" Grey shrugged.
The pair laid there as the embers finally shifted with the wind. The wilderness still alive, but unwelcoming.
"...Are we dying?" Grey asked him.
"...I dunno." The orc grasped the knife in his side. "Maybe."
"Flattooth, don't do that." Grey winced. "You'll bleed out."
"Bao."
"Huh? Bao?"
"Not Flattooth. He dead." Bao explained as he still prodded the knife with a thumb.
Grey leaned on his elbows to look at it better. "It's in your ribs."
"Yeah, you put it there." Bao gritted.
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jpwnhhg
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jpwgms6
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[WP] Your teachers always warned you to never, under any circumstances, cast a resurrection spell on someone still alive, but refused to elaborate why. Today your curiosity got the better of you.
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Every magic has a price. This has been drilled into us. But what if the price is too high, so high in fact that you won't be able to pay it one lifetime? I found it out the hard way all because of wizarding arrogance and maybe love.
When mortality was discussed in class, we all laughed; for what would death do to a being powerful enough to raise the dead? The answer- a lot.
When I met my wife, who did not belong to the wizarding world, I fell so hard in love that I knew that mere morality cannot separate us because I wouldn't let it. So I did the one thing that was forbidden, used a resurrection spell on her so that her body may keep on regenerating itself. So that we may be together forever.
We lived a happy life. A blessed life till one day it was to collect the debt of life I had created when I used the spell.
Death stood at the door of our house. I watch death take my unborn child away from me. Over and over again till we gave up.
But death didn't leave. I watched as my wife's soul started to die inside. I watched her become a shell. A being with a perfectly preserved body but no life.
I watched death smile when I tried to use the resurrection spell again.
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A thin drool trickles, pulling into the fur around Max’s beard. His chest raises and lowers in rasps.
“This the whole family?” Veterinarian Charlie says. “Not waiting for anyone else?”
“This is it.” Mom says.
We have already had time to say goodbye. The doctor readies the injection as the nurse aids us in comforting Max.
“Whose a special little boy?” Nurse Cherry says.
I bury my face in Max so ma can’t see my tears.
“I love you, buddy.” I breath in his sweet stink.
The vet respectfully waits as we blubber. After a time, he clears his throat.
“Distract him. He won’t even feel the needle enter.”
He was right. Max didn’t react at all. His eyes began drooping.
His leg gives a little twitch. A low moan escapes him. I scratch his bum, around the fat tumor. He quiets.
Veterinarian Charlie takes his leave. The nurse watches on.
I know it will be painless, and I keep telling myself that when Max begins twitching wildly.
“Simply the drugs taking effect.” Nurse Cherry says. “Simply muscle spasms. He can’t feel anything.”
Max abruptly begins whining loudly, accusingly. He screams at me personally, asking how I could ever do this to him. He pleads with me. He apologizes to me. He says he is sorry daddy. He doesn’t know what he has done wrong. He thinks it is when he last pooped on the carpet.
His whine rises into a braying crow. Vet Charlie does not return.
His accusations turn from self-hate to disgust. I was never a good father, he tells me. I never gave him the time he deserved. He could tell every day that I felt he was a chore.
“If you didn’t want the chore, don’t get a fucking dog, you cunt.” Max says.
I don’t know why I did it. Maybe to prove him wrong. I cast the spell. His body twists and pops. Bones jut out from his body, then reentered their proper arrangement.
His braying cry turns into an all out scream, like when Max used to see squirrels in our backyard.
His legs and arms twitch wildly.
“What did you do?” Nurse Cherry hisses at me.
“Nothing.” I lie.
The poison courses through his veins, shutting down huge clumps of cells. The tumor finally, finally dies.
Then, it reanimates. Poison once again courses through his veins and arteries and is delivered to each cell. They wither and die again.
The cells reanimate once again.
The poison flows like wine.
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japg1ze
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jap05y6
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[WP] The Time Machine was backwards traveling only, and now your stuck in the Medieval Times. You pull out your phone, expecting it to be nonfunctional, but instead find it to be working fine, and the date on the Home Screen reading “October 12th, 952”.
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Small fires still burn where the wreckage of the machine landed. I cough and cough, wipe streaming tears from stinging eyes. Where am I? When am I? Force of habit prompts nerveless fingers to fish the phone from my pocket and I blink at the cracked screen.
October 12th, 952
“952,” I gasp. The when explains the where. This is the bank of the river ... before there was a city here. Before my ancestors even came to this land.
The machine worked. It’s pieces lie broken and scattered around me. Half worked, I guess. I won’t be going back.
Shit.
Perhaps the fact that I have traveled back through time should prompt more disbelief and wonder - but I knew that it was theoretically possible. That my machine could possibly achieve this.
I didn’t really think about returning though. After all, I wasn’t supposed to send *myself* though time.
This experiment had been a disastrous success!
But then another thought occurs to me. One that brings a bigger shock than the realization that I am stuck in the past. How the heck does my phone know the date?
I look back at the cracked screen, squinting at the icons in the corner. Three bars of signal.
There’s a sound behind me.
“Is it really you?”
English. A woman’s voice. I turn around slowly.
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The knights of Lord Wymane surrounded me as their horses neighed and whinnied underneath them.
“Who is't art thee, strange wand'r'r?” asked the largest of the knights.
I panicked, quickly looking around to see if there was a way to escape. The knight nearest to my right side noticed my shiftiness and nudged his horse towards me. A gaggle of townsfolk began to gather around, patiently waiting to see what would happen next.
“Hey guys… uh… listen… I’m trying to get home,” I stammered, hoping this would give them a reason to leave me alone.
The entire crowd gasped. The knight who spoke drew his sword, staring at me menacingly.
“A strange tongue thee speaketh indeed. What is thy nameth and wh're is thy home?”
Realizing that I was about 30 seconds away from being impaled, I played along.
“It is I… uh… Tony, son of Joey, son of… uh… the other, Eldest Tony. I hail from… uh… the kingdom of… uh… the Kingdom of the Burger King!”
With this bold claim, the crowd broke out into hushed murmurs. The knight, now lowering his sword, jumped off of his steed and walked up to me.
“And who is't this Burg'r King thee speaketh of?” he asked.
“Uh… yes, yes” I stammered, gathering my thoughts, “The Burger King is the greatest power in the East. He wishes to offer you… I mean thee… a gift to thy master, Lord Wymane.”
The knight shot me a skeptical look and then answered, “And wh're is this gift yond thee speaketh of?”
I looked down at the only thing I had in my possession, an iPhone 14. “It is this! The greatest invention of all time.” I held the phone up into the air so that the crowd of people could see it and turned on the phone’s flashlight. The knights all flinched backwards, a woman screamed, another man yelled “Blasphemy!” from the back of the crowd.
After several moments of confusion, the knight finally said, “T’is most wondrous, thee has't did capture lighteth in the palm of thy handeth. I wonneth't tryeth to und'rstand, but shall taketh thee to mine own mast'r. I shall alloweth L'rd Wymane to decideth wheth'r thy life shouldst beest spar'd.”
The largest knight grabbed me by the arm, guiding me towards the path that led to Lord Wymane’s castle at the top of the hill. The other knights followed behind closely, acting as a barrier between me and the exasperated townspeople, ever curious about the magic device that had just appeared before their very eyes…
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lkmdkvn
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lkm7ac2
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[WP] A mind reader decides to try to play with you, but little does he know you have ADHD and the moment he enters you mind he's gonna get lost in a web of absolutely absurd racing thoughts.
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Xrrtklgrz’s laughter boomed through the obsidian paved halls as the pathetic human cowered before his demonic majesty.
“What’s that human? You don’t think you \*belong\* in hell? Well then, there is a simple way to leave.” Xrrtklgrz’s seven lips pulled back from his blacked fangs. “Simply finish these seven impossible tasks and you will be free to walk through the Brimstone Gates.”
Hope bloomed in the worm’s eyes, and Xrrtklgrz mouth watered at the thought of crushing that hope.
“Know that these challenged are based on your seven greatest sins. Only four people have ever completed this challenge; do you think you will be the fifth?”
As the human babbled their response, a scroll written on raw flesh appeared in Xrrtklgrz’s’s hands.
“The first challenge is the test of sloth. To succeed you must…” Xrrtklgrz paused for dramatic effect. “WASH A LOAD OF LAUNDRY AND PUT AWAY THE CLOTHES AS SOON AS THEY COME OUT OF THE DRYER! BWAHAH- wait, what”, Xrrtklgrz murmured the last part.
The human’s sorrowful wails echoed through the hall, which helped to distract from the demon’s confusion as he read the scroll again. Was the idea to start with a easy challenge and then crush their hope later? That must be it.
“Your second challenge is that of greed. You must not purchase anything, ON AMAZON PRIME DAY!”
Tears streamed down the human’s face as they lamented their fate, but Xrrtklgrz’s confusion only grew. It had been a while since the demon’s last summoning, but he wasn’t sure what a big river had to do with greed.
“Yes, er, that’s right! Let despair fill your heart. Envy is the next challenge. To succeed, you must attend \*both\* days of the Eras tour, without posting about it on Instagram?”
By this point the human was on their knees, begging for Xrrtklgrz’s mercy, but the demon was too distracted reading the rest of the scroll.
“What the here are these challenges?” Xrrtklgrz muttered. Of course, being a 70-foot-tall demon meant that his mutter’s could fill a stadium. The human’s eyes grew wider with each word. “Pride; go a full day f work without feeling imposter syndrome. Wrath, confront Janice about her stealing your lunch from the break room. Lust, show your browser history to thirteen people. Gluttony, use all the vegetables in your refrigerator before buying more groceries.”
Xrrtklgrz sat upon his throne of skulls ad the human was led away. The pathetic creature was begging for mercy, but their cries soon faded. The demon scratched behind one of his horns as he read the scroll again and again. How were these the seven deadly challenges? Had the world changed that much? How could an era only last two days?
Shrugging his eight shoulders, Xrrtklgrz called out to one of his helper imps to lead in the next supplicant. When the portly human entered Xrrtklgrz’s hall, the demon’s fanged maws curved in genuine pleasure.
“Ah, Dr. Kissinger. We’ve been expecting you.”
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I got up, it was black. I looked around for a light switch but couldn't find a light switch, wall. I ran but couldn't find and end. Eventually my shoes started to echo.
"Where am I!" I yelled in desperation.
"You're dead," said a voice in a low but sweet voice.
"dead? shouldn't everything be white and cloudy. maybe some people with harps in here?" I asked.
The voice just lauhged.
"Hey, I'm talking to you!" I yelled dejected.
"Surely, you don't believe you belong there," the voice said.
"What do you mean?" I wasn't that bad of a guy, honest" I yelled.
"mmmm, tell you what, I'll give you a chance to get out" the voice said, "On you're mark, get ready go!" yelled the voice. What followed was a loud sound.
Not sure what else to do I jogged until a tall, white bed with blue pillow sheets appeared.The pillows were also white. And they felt so fluffy. How could I resist it was so soft. But it was a foreign bed. I couldn't use this. It would just be so different.
"It's okay, it's just a bed. You'll feel the same under the covers," a voice said.
"who's there?" I asked.
"No one really." it said. "Just know that the bed is safe. The bed is okay"
The bed then transformed into the one from my room. The green one with the blue pillows. I couldn't help but feel it look ugly now.
But still I saw it. I walked past it. And towards the other door.
There was a beautiful blue eyed black haired woman in a tight red dress there. Why did she look so familiar?
"hey there," she said in another familiar voice.
I then realized it was my neighbor's wife Jessica. She was blonde in life.
"I won't tell Jacob," about this she said."You know you want to."
She always had me so hot blooded.
"How could I possible say no?"
"I won't tell anyone. You can go about your way after this like it never happened."
I put my arm around her waste and felt I knew what was going to come next. "Whoa, almost felt for that one," I said.
She tried reaching out for my hand, but I ran away.
"Don't be prideful and try to pretend your something your note!" she sang in a sing song voice.
There was a bunch of food and drinks here. And I was famished. I couldn't tell if this challenge was gluttony or greed. But clearly the answer was to not have that much. I drank some beer first over eating, because I thought I could really use the get away. The easiest thing to have first were the wings. I helped myself to the pizza and onion rings as well. I felt the beers and decided to have a few more. I shouldn't have drank the last one but had already opened it and thought why let it go to waste.
I saw a brunette woman with wavy hair laughing with some other guy. She looked back and that's when I realized it was my former wife Samantha. I yelled out for her, "What the fuck do you think you're doing!" She moved her hand away from his and looked frightened. We seperated a long time ago. But I could never let her go. It made me so angry to see her with other people. Why couldn't she be happy with me like that? She hid behind the guy she was with.
"What's your problem?" he yelled back.
"Your my problem, buddy!" I said as gave him a hook to the face. And he stumbled back towards her and the two fell together. I heard sirens and decided to run.
I walked into a room. It looked to be some sort of trophy room. The name on one of the awards was John Lipman. John Lipman, now there's a name I hadn't heard in a long time. I looked around to make sure no one was staring and threw the award onto the ground and spat on it. I punched the glass the contained the other trophies and threw them across the room. I heard the sirens again and ran.
I ended up at what looked like the start of a maze. I'd lose them in here I thought and I ran and ran. I felt the muscles in my throat going funny. I lent over and hurled. I saw a small image of me drinking and drinking. And then it turned into samantha's horrified scream.
Maybe I did belong here after all.
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jfjpsuy
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jfj1lqc
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[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.
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"I win," I said beaming.
"That's not how you play the game, you idiot!" scowled Zeus. Shiva just put all four hands over his face and shook it slowly. The other gods were in various states of shock and disappointment.
"But I win! Top that!"
Not a single deity seemed amused. The echos of the supernova could still be heard in the dark matter. What was left of Jupiter was visible careening off toward Alpha Centauri. I briefly wondered if there was anyone over there and whether the errant core would cause any problems down the road or just be an interesting celestial phenomenon.
"You didn't... *win*. You... ruined the game," said Xōchiquetzal with frustration. "At best, I'd call that a foul."
"The foul to end all fouls," added Bixia, nodding at her friend.
"The foul to end *all*," Xōchiquetzal nodded back. "We should never have let these lesser gods take part. I *told* you, Zeus." She cast a glance his way. For once the grand old immortal didn't have anything to say.
Honestly, I knew they weren't going to love it. But once I figured out how to get enough mass to appear wherever I wanted, I had to try it. I waited nearly four hundred years; just anticipating the looks on their faces. Being the god of assholes wasn't always glamorous, but it had its moments. Well, its moment.
"So..." Poseidon ventured, "does that mean my record stands?"
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“Lets see you top that!” Poseidon’s voice still echoes in my memories, even after all these years. I stared at the blue and green marble below our domain. Though the toll on the mortals was great, they still rebuilt and improved. I watched as they grew and beat back tragedy.
I thought long and hard on this game among gods. Who would show the greatest power. Who would cow the mortals into everlasting submission. A task not enviable among the gods, or at least it should not have been.
I looked down upon the mortals. Poseidon’s greatest tragedy forgotten and relegated to myth. I took a deep breath, stretching out my time until judgment. Perhaps there was another way, of course there was another way. But none I would find in time. I knew what was needed, but not the need for it. As is the curse of those blind to fate.
I took a deep breath and embarked on the journey to earth. In a flash of light I found myself next to a man in need. He stood at the corner of Wilson and Jefferson in New York city. He had only a ragged carboard sign, and the hope of strangers to his name. I sat next to the man, who was no wiser to my presence as any other mortal in the realm. I watched as he begged and pleaded for what he needed in his hour of want. Although I knew what he truly needed, I also knew he would give in to what he desired.
I followed him around the block to henry’s wine shop. He needed to invest in his future, but he bought his present instead. I sat with him on the corner as he drowned his sorrows with his hard-earned gains. With a heavy heart I whispered in his ear.
“I am truly sorry. For your sacrifice, you will achieve greatness.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled my doom into my hand. A moment of hesitation betrayed my judgment. I steeled my nerves before passing a new plague upon the world. I watched as he shuddered before brushing off his newfound ailment with another swig of his booze.
“Good haul I see” a woman of the night said as she stopped by. With a smile the man passed the bottle which the woman gladly took, dooming herself. The two exchanged pleasantry as most mortals do. I basked in the glory of these peaceful moments for this was the start of the end.
I shed a tear for these mortals, both present and future. For this is the end of life as they knew it, and hopefully, the end of these twisted games the gods played upon them.
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jesvh2m
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jes1eue
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[WP] When the king sent out the berserker to save his daughter from the castle she's in with a ferocious dragon, the Last thing he expected to find in the pile of severed heads the man brought, is the head of the princess herself. And yet it's here, displayed proudly dangling on his hip.
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“What the actual hell?”
“What?”
“I sent you to go save my daughter, the princess from a dragon, only to find her head on your fucking hip!”
“Wait, but you put a bounty on her head.”
“No I did not! I asked you to retrieve the princess for 300 gold!”
“Retrieve, meaning retrieve a head.”
“…where did you grow up?”
The warrior proudly announces “I grew up in the Red Dunes, a sandy land covered by blood & rot! A land where it’s either kill or are be killed!”
“That explains it. But, even if you grew up in a shitty environment, I’m still gonna execute you.”
“Damn.”
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“And here’s the last of them.” Theadore the Gaunt dropped yet another bag filled with severed heads on the floor before the flabbergasted king. On the top of the latest pile was his precious girl’s head. Each of the heads were frozen in a look of confusion and terror.
King Dominan felt fury, but there was nothing he could do for his best knights Theadore had slew. The king could only muster a feeble, “How…why?” Theadore then looking proud stated, “Dear King you must have been fooled! You see when I went into the keep, there was but a paper mache dragon there. Stepping into the hall I realized I was surrounded! It broke my heart seeing so many of the knights and royalty I had valiantly fought with over the years there.” Tears started welling in Theadore’s eyes. “I heard them execute their battle cry as the knights presented their swords. ‘surprise’ they called out…sob…”SURPRISE!” All those men must had planned to betray me and then overthrow the kingdom once I was gone.”
The king at this point felt he might be having a stroke…”but my little girl?” Theadore explained, “That was the saddest part, it was she who must have planned the whole thing. She was not bound and was at the center of the crowd. Princess Rene tried to confuse me saying that this was a wedding, that she was to marry me. I knew this was false for I had been told to wear my finest armor to rescue her…yet again. Why would I be told to wear armor to a wedding? “
The king slumped to the floor. His crown landed at Theadore’s feet. And thus ends the story of Theadore the Gaunt and begins the tale of King Theadore the 1st.
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jq1b2ld
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jq12ksk
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[WP] The hero is 16, he raises his wand. The villain steps into a time warp. Now the hero is 26, with a wife and two kids. Just fired, behind on the mortgage, the car blew its transmission. What else could go wrong? The "villain" reappears.
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"What do you mean, happier?", the Demon asked incredulously. "No mortal is happy in Hell, that's the point of Hell!"
The Angel sighed. "You don't understand. This Man, he's lived a virtuous life. Married a good woman, raised morally strong children, avoided Sin. Not out of desire to live a righteous life. Oh no, if only it were that simple."
The Demon gestured him to continue.
"I've seen his mind", the Angel, who had once borne a flaming sword and smote cities with rains of sulfer, looked as he was going to vomit, said. "I've seen his mind. In another age, he'd be a conqueror. A force of nature. He burns with a rapine desire to main, kill and dominate. His dreams sicken me."
The words come in a rush, as if spilling them forth will cleanse the speaker.
"His dreams. Violence, depravity, and worse. He's kept it all bottled in, knowing that letting out the least of his impulses would doom everyone he cared about."
The Demon looked at his counterpart, amazed at the Angel that practically trembled before him.
"The forces of Hell gladly accept this gift."
The Angel looked him square in the eye, "No returns."
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I thought the War would be eternal. I honestly did.
But Zaphaniel's reaction told me everything.
"There's... " The angel sighed. "Look. There's been a conclave about how we've been doing things."
"Did one of you hop down to the dirt for a visit?"
A wounded look was my reward.
"Yes."
"Saw the television, saw the laws being passed, saw the hate?"
"Yes."
"And now you're... "
If he dareth spake against his Lord, or however the humans put it in the KJV, he would probably have been struck down in front of me. But he had the grace to at least try and convey regret with his expression.
"Good."
"You're not surprised."
I didn't laugh. He deserved the same kind of grace in return.
"The thing about letting people into Heaven based on principles from thousands of years ago is that you're only going to get the kind of people who follow thousand-year-old principles. And who exclude others based on thousand-year-old principles."
His wings folded.
"So while you've been listening to the same hosannahs for the past two thousand years, we've been meeting all sorts of new people down here. Kind, thoughtful, caring people, like this soul you're about to send us. And they tell us what your followers get up to, with all the new laws and old, old hate."
Silence.
"So no, I'm not surprised at all. And we'll welcome this one, too, with open arms just the same."
"The Word—"
"Had a time and place. Clearly."
Somehow, they folded even further. He turned away slightly.
"I'm sorry. That was a bit far, even for me."
Silence, again. I suppose I earned that.
"Look, I'm glad you're all at least thinking about turning things around. It took a while for us to change, I'm sure you can, too."
He looked back.
"It might not do much for all the bright and shiny clouds full of hateful, judgemental people you have up there right now, but hey—you've spent all this time telling me about redemption. That's never a bad idea. And I'm always here if you want to chat."
"... I mean, you're bound to this place, it's your whole thing. So that's not really much of an offer at all. Are you *sure* you've changed?"
And for the first time in a long time, a demon and an angel laughed and smiled together. And it was good.
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jhf6mkw
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jhf5c52
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[WP] Not all Dragons hoard gold. Some run the greatest libraries and repositories of knowledge in the world, others search for the greatest experiences and sights the worlds can offer. One dragon has a rather unusual fascination.
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"What, you want gold or something?"
"Well, no, not really. But that artillery has caught my eye."
"The what?" The clerk asked, baffled. The specialist the government had reached out to was unusual, as it was a dragon, and had declined most forms of payment available for the work. The drake nodded with a slight grin.
"Not all dragons hoard gold you know."
"I'll have to contact my boss, I can't exactly authorize the trade of military hardware." The clerks explanation was cut off as the drake waved a clawed hand.
"I know, I know. Take the time you need to get that sorted. I'm interested in weapons of war; artillery, tanks, atmocraft, spacecraft. I'll be waiting." The drake turned away from the clerk and opened a portal. The land beyond the portal was full of machines of destruction, and a great fleet of warships hung in the skies.
Follow the adventure at r/PrimusWrites
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We turned the cold dark halls and froze. You could hear the bellows of the beast echoing through the chamber of the halls. We must press on, I thought to myself.
The king had sent us to not only slay the foul beast, but to use its riches to better the kingdom. Even though fear swelled in my belly like the gnawing hunger of a starving man, press on we did.
As we entered the chambers it was stark black. I couldn’t see the men I was with nor the beast we were there for. Suddenly two large eyes opened. A growl so loud ensued, the treasures were being shaken from their very spots. The beast raised its head, it size the likes I’ve never seen before. Me and the men watched in horror as the flames formed in the mouth of the dragon. It was too late.
At the last second the dragon turned and shot his flames to light candles around the room. As me and the men looked around we couldn’t believe what we saw. Was this the work of witches? Did the foul best put us under some spell?
“Come to see my troll dolls have ya?” The dragons voice was deeper than the bellow of thunder. “See this one I snagged when I was flying over the village south of the kingdom. Some young spire just let his child through the doll on the ground like some cursed thing!”
Our party, clearly confused, looked around at each other for answers. We would find none. What we would find however, was the history and origins of each and every doll their. We tried to leave but the dragon snappend it’s tail in front of the door way. “Oooh wait, I forgot about this one!”
After three weeks in the dungeon with the beast many men died of starvation, some even did the deed themselves due to going mad from the lengthy explanation of the dragons collectibles.
“And I think that’s all of them!” I turned to leave thirsty for the light of day. But just as I was approaching the door the dragon saw the gift I had for my newborn babe. “IS THAT THE DAM TAILED TROLL WITH ORIGINAL TAGS & OUTFIT!?” I knew I would never escape, yet still, I found my sword unsheathed and in my hands.
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li4rgrz
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li43utx
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[WP] “Why should I care what you think, dad? Humans only live for a hundred years if they’re lucky! Me and mom will be here for thousands!”
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\- *Why should I care what you think, Dad? Humans only live for a hundred years, if they're lucky! Me and Mom will be here for thousands!*
Emilien looked up at his father, with what he hoped would be smug expression of superiority. But what he saw instantly wiped any of it from his face. He heard stories of "scary humans", and how certain human heroes have torn cities apart singlehandedly, but he never gave them any mind - not until this moment, when he saw his own father, fuming, with fists on the dinner table clenched so hard that balls of his knuckles turned white.
\- *This... Is exactly why.* - Father's voice was surprisingly calm, and words came out slowly, in measured pace, obviously restrained. He walked away from the table, and turned his back to Emilien and his mother.
\- *What?* - Emilien tried to ask, but was hushed by his mother.
\- *You never met your grandfather. And grandmother died when you were ripe old age of three. I still remember her reaction when I announced we are visiting. She treated us like the plague, until she first laid her eyes on you.*
\- *I was afraid to let her hold you, but...* - Mother chimed in -*She fell in love with you from first moments.*
\- *I had a great deal of misunderstandings with my father, Emilien. He was a racist, and couldn't stand the thought I would marry an elf. This was over fifteen years ago, Emilien. And these two empty chairs to the right of me during the wedding reception still burn a hole in my heart.* - Father walked over to the fireplace and took a picture off the mantle. It was a photograph from their wedding. -*And you know what the man who gave me life and raised me, do you know what he did when I sent them a letter announcing that Lülien was pregnant with you?*
\- *I dunno. Tore it to pieces?*
\- *He died, Emilien. Heart attack. He. FUCKING. DIED.* - Last two words Father screamed into balls of his fists.
Emilien never seen him like this. His ever calm, collected and happy father was right now shaking from anger. But, and this realisation came suddenly, this was no longer anger directed at him. This was years upon years of grief, packed tightly into something hidden deep within this person. A box of springs, that Emilien unknowingly and unintentionally poked open.
\- *He died. He's no longer among the living. You are right. Maybe I shouldn't care, he's no longer alive, so what does he matter, right? But, my own father died hating my guts. I never had the chance to make up with him. I never had the chance to explain. To show him the good. To introduce him to you. And it hurts whenever I think about it. It hurts whenever I visit his grave. It hurts whenever I see that my siblings neglect this duty...*
Father sat back down at the table with a defeated sigh.
\- *So... Yes. In... Maybe forty years, fifty if we're lucky, I will not be your problem anymore. And only then you'll truly realise, why should you have cared.*
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“Why should I care what you think, Dad? Humans only live for a hundred years if they’re lucky! Me and mom will be here for thousands!”
David pursed his lips as he looked at his superpowered son and wife, Kevin and Martha. This month had been… challenging to say the least when Kevin finally got his power on his 20th birthday. That would have been big enough news already were it not for yesterday’s news of Martha being part of an alien war species that sought to conquer planets.
Like Earth.
Standing amid his destroyed living room, where Agency agents who were supposed to protect him but were now scattered around, David took a deep breath and stepped closer to his son. The fate of humanity rested on this conversation. “Do you remember Abby?” asked David.
“The dog?” Kevin raised his eyebrows. “What about her?”
“You cried for her when we had to bury her in the backyard,” David continued. He glanced at the kitchen window, where the small tombstone was barely visible. “You cared about her.”
Kevin faltered and glanced at his mom, who had a stern look on her face as she hovered over the floor. “I didn’t know if I would have my powers,” Kevin finally said.
“And yet, you still care about her,” David said, taking another step closer. “I still see it in your face.”
“And he will forget about her,” Martha countered. “Maybe tomorrow, next year, tens, or a hundred years from now. Kevin will forget her and you.”
Was this family all for nothing? Did his love mean anything? David knelt on the bloodied floor, his breath heavy. “I’m not asking you to care what I think, Kev,” David said. “I’m asking you to care about me and everyone else. Just like you did for Abby.” Kevin tried to open his mouth, but no words could come out. “If you think so little of me, killing your father should be no problem for you.”
“What are you saying?” Kevin asked, tears falling down his face.
“You and your mother wish to conquer Earth, start with me,” David whispered, though he looked his son in the eyes.
Faltering, Kevin took a step back and looked at his mother. Martha sneered, though there was a growing frustration in her face. “What are you waiting for?” she asked.
Kevin’s hands trembled as he looked from his father to his mother, torn between the love he still felt for his dad and the power he had just begun to understand. The weight of the decision pressed down on his conscience, harder than anything he’d ever faced as a superhero.
He could do it, one clean laser to the face. However, the thought of his father, his lifeless body lying on the floor, made him sick to his stomach. But the words of his mother urged him to do it. He and his mother could liberate Earth. But did it really have to start with killing his father?
“Do it,” Martha said. “Prove that you are not weak, Kevin. Prove that you are worthy of your heritage.”
“Mom…” Kevin’s voice broke, and for a moment, he saw a flicker of softness in her eyes, a glimpse of the mother who had once held him when he was scared. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the unyielding gaze of a conqueror.
“Kevin, please,” David whispered. “You have to make a choice.”
“He’s made his choice!” Martha shouted as she dropped to the floor. Her feet slammed onto the floor, splintering the wood. “Kevin, you are not weak like them. You are a warrior.”
“He’s… he’s my dad.”
“And he will die!” Martha rubbed her temples. Her fiery eyes then stared hard at her son. “His life is fleeting, his body is fragile. He had his chance to join the empire, an empire, I remind you, is for the greater good!”
But Kevin shook his head. “I want to share as much time with you and Dad. I can’t do that if I kill him.”
Eyes glowing red, Martha prepared her heat vision. “You’re weak,” she muttered.
But David got up and quickly ran in front of his son. “If you want to hit our boy, Marth,” David said, his heart beating fast, “You’ll have to punch through me.”
Martha’s fiery eyes narrowed on her husband. For a moment, it seemed as if the entire world had ground to a halt.
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kerz14u
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keruops
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[WP] You’re a park ranger of a very dense forest and you take care of everything, including the supernatural cryptids. One day, a murder happens in your forest and the culprit evades the authorities. You then politely ask the cryptids for their aid in the culprit’s capture. They agree.
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One thing the park ranger training doesn't tell you about is the sapient non-humans living in the forest. They're good folks, very reclusive, but with some persistence, and a whole lot of respect, you can form a relationship with them.
Gren is one of those who frequently works with the rangers, he's a Leshen, and a damn intimidating one at that, but get to know him, and he's kinder than you might expect, but he is harsh, he doesnt take bullshit, and will eject you from his presence forcefully if you offend him.
I'll spare you the details of the murder, but the short version, it was gruesome. I asked Gren for help with finding the killer, local law enforcement hadn't been able to find much but the forest has more eyes than you expect.
"I know the human you seek, their sins were witnessed by the forest. If you ask me to help in this matter, then I will be required to dispense our justice to the murderer." Gren was very stern today, he knew I came here to talk business, he even waved away the gift I brought for him.
"We've never actually talked about this kind of thing you know. Before I can ask, I need to know what your justice entails." I couldn't bring a corpse to jail for murder, Gren knew that, so I figured he had some options that didn't include death.
"I know your concerns, I give you my vow I will not kill this murderer, I will deliver them to you whole, but they will know their sins intimately before they are yours. I will not elaborate further." I knew not to push Gren on the details, probably felt he was saving me from knowing something I really shouldn't know.
"Thank you Gren, I owe you for..."
"You owe nothing for this Ranger Thomas." Gren interrupted, "You will have your murderer, no exchange will be necessary, they alone will pay the price."
"Thank you Gren. I'll return when you summon me."
"Be well, Ranger Thomas."
I returned to the outpost, mulling over that ominous message Gren said about the murderer paying the price. The ferocity in Gren's voice, I really hope I never end up on his bad side.
‐------Three days later-------
I arrived at Gren's Glenn and let out a little chuckle, the name always made me smile, but it was short lived as I remembered why I came.
Gren was waiting for me at the tree line, "Greetings Ranger Thomas, I have your murderer further in the valley, his punishment by our laws is complete, and I will relinquish him into your custody. He is ready, and willing, to make a full confession to your authorities."
"Wow, how'd you manage that?"
"He was given a choice. Face justice at the hands of his own people, or face our justice for the rest of his days."
"Full confession? Just like that?"
"It was not as easy as it sounds, but yes, he will make a full confession."
"I know you said you wouldn't elaborate further, but may I ask how you managed that?" Couldn't hurt to ask, I thought.
"After two days of living the last moments of every creature he has ever killed, he was willing to reconsider my offer."
I didn't know how to reply to that, Gren and I walked in silence for the next twenty minutes or so as I processed what he told me. As we neared the structure holding the murderer, I finally broke the silence.
"Every creature?"
"Yes. Every fly he swatted, every bug he stepped on or poisoned, and of course, his victim in the forest. The last two days, he has experienced their last moments of life, their pain, their fear, everything they were in their final moments are now a part of him."
I understood why he wanted to confess, I'd do the same. "You're God damned terrifying sometimes, you know that Gren?"
"Not half as terrifying as your own people can be Ranger Thomas."
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A wise man once said ‘when man cannot answer a question, ask his Mother, Nature.’
Okay no wise man said that. I made it up one night when I was sleep deprived but it’s made sense this far so I’m rolling with it.
When I first got notified by the authorities that a murder had taken place in the forest I serve, I feared that it had been one of the animals that did it. Because when they don’t have any information or possible leads, you immediately assume one of the hawks the size of a sedan that only comes out at night ate them. Or maybe they were swallowed by the massive burrowing python that has a tentacle for a tongue.
Obviously the hawks and snakes were quite offended at the accusation. They understood why I asked, but they were still offended.
“So it wasn’t any of you?” I asked one night, looking around at the assembly of cryptids. All of them responded in the negative through some form of shaking limbs, chattering noises, or ethereal glowing.
“Alright fair enough. Sorry about that then,” I said before turning to their designated ‘leader.’ A massive humanoid creature covered in thick brown fur that was about 9 feet tall. Before I started this job I would have called them ‘Big Foot.’ But after getting to know the guy, I learned he didn’t like that name. He preferred Herb, on account of his diet consisting mainly of forest plants. Go figure.
“So what do we do? The authorities said if I can’t bring them any leads in the next day they’re gonna have to search the forest themselves. And I don’t want to risk them finding any of you. I doubt they’ll react calmly to Leviathan trying to swallow one of them whole.” In response the giant snake hissed, but in a way that sounded almost amused. If snakes could laugh, it would be that sound.
“Leviathan assured the men would not see any of us.” Herb replied.
“He said that last time, and then I found him chasing a gang of frat boys through the woods.”
“They were urinating on one of our trees. It was a justified response.”
“Be that as it may,” I said with a wave of my hand, “I don’t want to risk them finding any of you.”
Herb stroked their chin in thought while the rest of the cryptids milled around anxiously.
“So then, what would you have us do?”
“Well I was thinking of searching the forest for any clues. But the place is huge. It’s like triple the size of Grand Central Park. Could some of you help me look around? Please?”
Herb looked at the other animals, then back to me. “Give us a moment,” he said before gesturing at the hawks and the snake, who followed him a few metres away.
“Cool. I’ll just uh, stand here.” I said, looking down at my khaki uniform and trying to be interested in the buttons on my vest. Just then I felt something land on my shoulder. I turned my head and came face to face with eight black beady eyes.
“Hey Eyerene,” I said to the jumping spider the size of a chihuahua on my shoulder, giving it a little pet on the head. It extended one of its legs which I had learned meant it wanted to shake my head. So I did. “How are the kids?” I asked. In response Eyerene clicked its mandible. I was still learning how to talk to her from Herb, but so far I knew that sound meant something good.
“Glad to hear it,” I said with a smile. Just then the spider hopped off my shoulder as Herb and the animals it had pulled to the side returned.
“I have spoken to the Hawks and Leviathan, and we have agreed that we will help. They will begin searching immediately and will report to me if they find anything. Is there anything specific would you like them to look for?”
I scratched my head at that. “Uhhhh, not sure. I’m no detective. I guess stuff like tracks, clothes, smells? Anything unusual I guess.”
In response Herb looked to the hawks and began flapping his arms. He then turned to Leviathan and performed a series of hissing noises. Once he was done, both would leave in opposite directions, disappearing into the forest.
“They will speak to their tribes as well. They will join them promptly.” Herb said.
“Great! Thanks!”
“Do not thank me yet.”
My smile was replaced by a raised eyebrow. “Why not?”
“You and I must now go to consult the Dire Wolves. They have an excellent sense of smell that should be able to help us. However they are not as selfless as the Leviathans or Scout Hawks. They will require negotiations. Likely some form of payment.”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. I knew where this was going. “Fineeee. Meet me back here in an hour. Hopefully Greg’s butcher shop is still open. And he has thirteen kilos of prime rib.”
If you had told me before this job that snakes were more selfless and easier to negotiate with than the animal that dogs descended from, I would have laughed at you. Mother Nature and God seemed to share a similar sense of humour.
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lgmv7y1
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lglxobh
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[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.
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\- *So... that means I can wish for the light speed to be lower than sound speed?*
\- *Yes, but Master, remember..*
\- *As I said, I have no intention to wish for it. But just to be clear... so I can also wish for light speed to not be constant? For causality to not exist? For the Electron to be the same size and charge as the Proton? For mass to disappear? These are all possible?*
\- *...Yes...* \- I could feel the trembling in the voice of a thousand-year being, far higher than I could ever imagine. I could see myself reflected in his immense eyes, and with me, the whole universe within, reaching far than it was supposed to be possible. To decipher these eyes meant deciphering all the secrets in the universe, for he, himself, could bend the rules at will, making what was certain and absolute completely chaotic and relative.
I could wish for that full knowledge, but I knew, full well, that it would mean madness and the breaking of all physics and possibly all science that ever existed. I knew that, and I knew the risks, but it didn't matter now.
For his answers were all I needed to understand the secret: that **everything** was relative, even speed of light, even physics. And his eyes were able to show me what **wasn't**. So I would wish for that only Absolute to cease to exist.
*- Genie... for my first, and only wish, I wish...*
*- Be careful, Master, for that...* \- but I wasn't listening
\- *for YOU to never exist. Not "disappear from now on", for you to* ***never even being*** *in the first place. Every wish you granted to cease, every consequence in time and space to be fixed,* ***everything*** *related to you to cease to be - even yourself.*
The universe trembled. The sky collapsed. The genie... glitched, for the lack of a better word, being higher than the whole universe itself, and also smaller than a grain of sand, all at the same time. In a fraction of a fraction of a millisecond, I was everything, then I was nothing, then I was the genie, then I was the atom.
And then, everything fade to black.
\---
In a place far outside a place, in time far outside the time, a Being woke up. His infinite eyes blinked the universe out of existence, still feeling the touch and sensations and emotions in his vast, infinite body, in infinite moments that the Being resided.
If the Being could talk, and if the Words could be heard, and the Meaning could be translated... everything would probably collapse into just:
>*That's interesting...*
And with that in the Being's infinite minds, it was time to sleep again.
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**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.”
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muvu35d
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megtfi9
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[WP] You’re a hero with a weird name. “Anything for $20”. You gain the ability to do anything, as long as you’re offered $20. Everyone takes it as a joke, until one day there’s a cataclysm, and someone offers you $20 to end it.
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I watched as the shower of moon fragments started to fell, as the fleet of alien spaceships shattered it.
We were next.
The superheroes and villains gathered together, ready to face off the enemy.
I was a hero, a lowly one due to my name: "Anything for 20$", as most people thought I was a joke.
It was exactly like that, when a villain next to me handed me 20$.
"Hey, Anything for 20$, be a nice chap and get rid of those invaders." she said, laughing.
The mood was lightened a bit, as more people joined in the laughter.
I took the 20$ and nodded.
I snapped my fingers, and the worst situation for the fleet happened.
The fragments of the moon shifted ever so slightly, colliding, and exploding.
On the moon, we already had some research labs, and in some of them we tested highly reactive substances.
The fireworks lit up the entire sky, engulfing the fleet that followed the fragments from a short distance.
When the show of shockwaves and myriad colors ended, the sky was dusty, but fleet free.
"Done." I said, smiling at the villain who gave me the 20$.
I turned to leave, as most people started celebrating.
Not the villain though, she had other plans.
I found myself pinned to a wall in an alley, as she towered over me.
"How did you do it?" she asked.
"Bloody Queen" was her name, able to control blood, fitting name, she looked like a Vampire Princess.
"Are you really thinking about my looks now?
I can feel your blood heating up...speak, how did you do that?" she asked, slamming me to the wall again.
I shrugged.
"It's in my name Queen, Anything for 20$.
It's my power." I shrugged.
She bit her lips, and took out 20$.
"Can you make me...normal?" she asked.
I was confused.
"What do you mean?
You want to lose your powers? You want to have a normal life but with powers?
You want to go to another world? You want to be reborn?" I asked her multiple questions.
She frowned.
"I don't know! I just don't want to...to be hated anymore." she said.
I see...her powers changed her looks, probably making her an outcast, add to that that she can hear and feel the blood-flow, and read it.
I smiled, took her 20$.
"Come, let's go." I said.
"Where?" she asked.
"To this restaurant, it's a nice place for a normal date." I laughed.
She reached for me, but froze midway, as she saw her reflection in a broken mirror...afterwards, she gently followed me, and I did what I did best.
Fulfilled her wishes.
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"I had no idea," I mumbled to myself. My arms were still shaking as I sat slumped in the rubble of what used to be a bank. Or maybe it had been a high rise?
It didn't really matter, but my mind raced, trying to comprehend the buildings original form as I sprawled out on a heap of debris. Maybe if I could make sense of what this mess of twisted steel beams, shattered concrete, and stll live electrical wires used to be, I could somehow make sense of what just happened.
My wandering mind snapped back to harsh reality as the slender form draped across my lap shuddered. She was so light. It was amazing, so much power contained within so slight a frame.
She frowned, coughed, then a rattling breath escaped from her perfectly formed lips. God, she was beautiful. I'd seen her thousands of times before, but the cameras and the posters didn't do her justice. She slumped, still in my lap. That breath had been her last, I knew it, I knew deep down in the pit of my stomach in the depths of my soul. I knew the only way to end this cataclysm was to...
I started to cry. I couldn't help it. All the pain, all the suffering, it didn't matter. I'd never taken a life before. Let alone a life as perfect as this.
She was a hero, The Bight Goddess, but not just any hero she was one of the triumvirate. One of the three most powerful heroes who had acended 20 years ago. The triumvirate had ushured in a reign of peace and prosperity that'd never been seen before. Theyd created a new world order in which illness, famine, bigotry, and war were words and ideas of the past.
But something had gone wrong. Solar Knight, the strongest of the triumvirate had vanished three months ago, The Bright Goddess and Perfect Mind had searched, leaving no stone unturned but to no avial.
The loss shook the foundations of our society, but the world went on. The great heroes had set humanity on such a course that even without the threat of Solar Knight's martial might, the larger countries with their fearsome militaries were content to live in peace.
That was until a week ago. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but Solar Knight had returned. He's dead now, along with Perfect Mind. The broken remains of their nearly indrustructable bodies laid bare on the stair case of the World Assembly for all to see.
The Bright Goddess, had it been her? She wasn't what she'd seemed. She wasn't just the glue that held the cantankerous muscle and the aloof intelligence of her peers together. She wasn't just the woman with the plan who kept the other heroes on task. She was much, much more.
I stand in the rubble, her body still warm in my arms. I can feel the immense power that filled me moments ago, starting to leave my body. The fire spreading around me has become warm. It'll be hot enough to burn the skin from my bones soon. The live wires swinging above me could end my life in an instant. I wasn't a strong hero, not like the one I cradled in my arms.
There are plenty of us, heroes, though few rate much higher than the average human. Only one in a billion would ever be worth a comic book. Our names allude to, or in some cases, spell out, our abilities. My hero name is, Anything For Twenty Dollars, it's a bit on the nose.
I didn't even know I had super powers until college. I was playing beer pong with my best friend Ted. We were freshmen and getting absolutely stomped. He said, 'I'll give you twenty bucks if you win us this game.' We won, he gave me twenty bucks. I didn't even realize it in the moment.
.
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k78p1n4
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k78oxko
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[WP] It becomes abundantly clear to the characters that the narrator has terrible narrating skills. They start to get off track criticizing the narrator for every mistake and bland writing.
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**The November Battlefield**
——
“This is what happens when nobody believes," Father Christmas spat a wad of blood and wiped his eye with a once white fuzzy cuff that now matched the hue of his suit.
The November battlefield was once beautiful.
Falling leaves on the ground. Poetry in the wind. Nostalgia in the hearts.
"Look what you have done!" the Lady Lord of Halloween shouted. She wore an armor suit weaved of bone. Her hair was long and black in a single braid wrapped in webs. She gestured with her sword, a great long blade of twisted black metal, over the burned battlefield.
In the piles of the dead some soldiers cry wounded, clawing in the mud.
Elves, ghouls, skeletons, reindeers, turkey, patrons of giving -- they all littered the field.
"I told you -" Father Christmas spotted the Thanksgiving Steward, a sprite, the keeping of grateful remembrance. Small and mighty. Bleeding and struggling to sit up.
"Don't -" the Lady of Lord of Halloween started to plea but it was too late. The sprite was brought to an end by a size twelve boot.
The Lady Lord of Halloween cursed the heavens and took a firm grip to her sword, and with both hands held it before her chest. She took a deep breath.
Behind her the lands off October lay in smog and enclosing doom.
"On my honor, one of us will die before you set foot on October soil!" She cried and charged.
Father Christmas cracked his knuckles and took a fighting stance. "I will make them all believe again!"
She swung, he dodged and spun around and swung his sledgehammer sized fists wildly. He towered over her. A once humble giant turned to a ferocious beast.
The Lady Lord of Halloween flipped back and around, she couldn't be touched.
Father Christmas screamed in anger -- "I gave them everything! And still they all love you!"
He was rage and unbound. Sloppy. A misstep. A spin. A single chop and one of his sledgehammer fists parted from his body and before he could calculate it all the Lady Lord of Halloween had twisted and ducked low and the twisted black steel went in that once jolly belly and popped out his back in a geyser of blood.
Father Christmas kept on his feet.
He reached for her and snarled.
She dug the blade deeper. And twisted.
Bloody tears ran down his face.
He fought it, knees shaking, and finally he fell to one knee.
"They -" he coughed. "They did this to me."
The Lady Lord of Halloween felt pity for him. They were friends all their long years, as they say. But her eyes gazed over him to the destruction he had brought.
"You did this to yourself," she ripped the blade from his gut and he fell dead. In the mud it was hard to tell where his suit ended and the pool of his blood began.
The Lady Lord of Halloween looked around and started to cry.
She found a wounded soldier - the first one her eye saw - an elf, and went to his aid.
"Lady?" he asked.
"It's ok," she said. He could only look up at her confused.
She nodded. "It will be ok."
----
r/wyrdfiction -- Sub if you like my writing.
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In the gentle snowfall that blew across the fields of November, the warning seemed to echo into nothingness. Where the snow melted against the scattered hay and dead leaves stood Samhain, the lord of Halloween. He wore a wreath of twisted twigs around which his dark hair tangled and fell to his shoulders. His cloak blew gently with the cool winds that blew across his territory, and against the bitter cold that encroached.
The faint call of jingling bells sounded in the distance against the boreal trees that stood a foot closer than they had the morning before.
Samhain closed his eyes.
The usurper was near.
"You've got a lot of nerve, Sam Hane," came the deep voice from everywhere at once.
"It's pronounced Sah-win," answered the lord of Halloween, unfazed. "You will show me that respect at least, *Santa Clause.*"
At the border of the territories, the snow coalesced into a swirling white twister that dispersed to reveal a hefty man in a red and white coat, worn black boots, and a thick white main under his nose that obscured his lips. Even so, Samhain could tell the man wasn't smiling.
"Sinterklaas will do just fine," came his reply, deep and almost threatening. "Samhain, I'm shocked," he said, meandering to the right, the newly fallen snow crunching under his boots. "You would accuse me of some kind of... *campaign* to take that which is rightfully yours? And then you assume that you have the power," he chuckled, "... to *destroy* me?" He stopped, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head, his cheeks rosy and his eyes mere slits as he smiled proudly.
"You don't have the juice for that, Samhain."
The lord of Halloween stood stoically, his face unchanging, his eyes fixed on Sinterklass. He remained silent for only a moment longer before casting his gaze over the endless evergreens that sprawled across November.
"Your trees bloom brightly," answered Samhain, finally. "I would wager they've found a thanksgiving feast beneath their roots."
"I had nothing to do with that," spoke Sinterklass his smile a ghost of Christmas past. "If you think for one second—"
"What did you do to stop it?" the lord of Halloween's words cut the man's sentence in twain.
The snow ceased to blow. It fell straight to the ground... and then not at all. The silence between the two lords was deafening.
"You don't want *any* of this, Pumpkin," seethed Sinterklaas. "You better change course right now... or you're gonna end up where you're headed."
"O' Lord of Christmas," the title burned in the diety's throat. "You are young; ambitious. I am old... and I am enduring." Shadows stretched out from Samhain's feet in all directions like grasping tentacles twisting and weaving as though restless. "I am the lord of sunset. I did not begin with a focus on terror, but I assure you... I have *adapted*." His eyes blackened and twisting thorns broke loose from the earth.
The air was heavy with violent intent.
Samhain and Sinterklass eyed one another wearily.
"... If this is what you want, so be it," spoke the lord of Christmas as he turned and started toward the trees. "I'll be back... 50,000 strong. You will regret this, Samhain."
"Mayhaps I will," growled the lord of Halloween. "There is a reality where you triumph... but neither you nor your elves will ever be the same. It has been centuries since the shadows fed properly..."
The twisting dark tentacles beneath Samhain reached after Sinterklass as he departed. The snow fell once more and collected around his form. With a single arctic breeze, he was no more.
Samhain stared across the snowfield, his fingertips buzzing with the arcane energy of a billion spirits. He could feel their fury within him. He turned and stared into the thicket of October and even beyond into September and August. He knew the consequences if he were to fail. The shadows rescinded. The spirits quieted. His claws retracted. He exhaled the negative energy in crystalized form into the cold air and started the walk home.
Preparations were in order.
Christmas was coming.
r/A15MinuteMythos // [ReyAthensWrites.com](https://ReyAthensWrites.com)
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kscmh53
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ksbq1cs
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[WP] You're are a lovable superhero with an oddly horrifying name. You're fighting your arch nemesis but they decide to take it too far. Now you have show them the true meaning behind your name.
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The Champion.
That's what those who were on his side would call him, conveniently ommiting simple matter of what kind of a Champion he was. Those who would stand against him found Champion To the God of Death to be a mouthful, and thus called him the Death Knight.
A hero to one is a villain to another, after all.
If you met him, you'd never guess who he was. On the outside, he was just an ordinary thirty-something healer who worked his own patch of earth, enjoying simple pleasures of life like a cold beer, aromatic tobacco and friend's company. He was never one to get angry, first to apologise, always ready to help with whatever you come to him with. Just, whatever you do, don't bring up the War.
It was during the War when everyone understood true meaning of the moniker he used.
Do you know the feeling which comes when you leave something for the night, only to return in the morning to find that it completely fell apart? That was what happened to him, a year into the war. He was but a healer's apprentice then, pouring all his heart into a refugee camp he worked in, keeping people safe and, to the best of his abilities, healthy. For two days he left the camp, to run the caravan for supplies. For two days he was not around. When he returned, he found smouldreing ruins, a pyre, and a ransacked village nearby. Out of several hundred men, women, elderly, and children, able-bodied, injured or disabled... None were to be found.
It was the Yfrite, the half man, half fire elemental who found him there, kneeling among the packages of food, medicine and clothes long after the caravan went off.
"That damn Lych has made it personal now." he said. "It's his fault. He started it, and now he's going to pay." he said.
"You can't do it alone, at least wait for the allied army" begged the Yfrite, bless his good soul and bone-white horns. But the Champion would not listen. He left, took but spare shoes and a loaf of bread, and not an ounce of good will with him.
Lych's Black Army has found him three days later, on a bridge over river Glacia. He stood there, with a golden longsword in his hands, a gift straight from Death's own armory. Unmoving, still, a single statue of a man against a thousand strong army of undead, necromancers, with cavalry, tanks and artillery. Their fate was sealed.
Necromancers brought their infantry first, thinking that if he won't run away, he'll be trampled. Yet, the column of undead stopped just a few feet on front of the Champion, as if there was a solid barrier preventing them from moving on. Almost as if the dead could feel fear. Champion only rose his hand, and spoke one word. A command. "Unbind". His voice filled with power, as if the God he served spoke himself, broke unholy binds linking the walking corpses to their master's will. With one word, the army was decimated. And he did not intend to stop there. Rising his sword, he took a step both forward, and over the threshold to the realm of the Souls, where time flows differently. He only stepped out to strike. And he didn't stop striking until there was no more to be struck.
To this day we know of three such encounters, and for all we know, he would continue this bloody trail deep into enemy territory, to the Lych himself, had his body be as strong as his will. But he did succumb to fatigue.
But it was enough.
Scales were tipped. Fear cast into hearts of enemies. And for all we know, Lych had not tried to rise again. In fact, we don't even know anything about his activity, and Champion will not say. He'll just put a thin veil of a smile over a painful memory, and order another round.
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Part 1 of 2
Dreadword was well-known as "The Cheerful Curselord" - much changed from how he was originally called "The Hateful Hexlord". From a hateful, vindictive utterer of curses against anyone he had even the slightest of vendettas against, his time in the Council of Altruists had changed him. He had now become as much a hero as any of the other Council members. Loved by the public, feared by villains, and respected by his fellow superheroes.
But of course, like any other person, Amateo "Dreadword" Bonetti had someone who hated him so much that nothing could quench that hatred. That would be Duca Pierangelo Candreva. He was the one who instigated the papal order confiscating the Bonetti family's vast holdings. He was also one out of four survivors who didn't die to the torrents of curses Dreadword spoke against his family, the Candreva clan. His three cousins fled and lived low-profile lives after Dreadword became a hero. But not Pierangelo.
With not a little effort, and aided by the last remnants of the once-mighty Fangcrushers' Guild, Pierangelo had succeeded in capturing Alinea "La Buscadora de Sangre" Rocha. She was a dread vampiress who had reformed and taken the heroic path, and was also the Council of Altruists' first official individually-operating ally. Now, she languished in the abandoned Sicignano Monastery. Her arms and legs were bound by silver chains (which no longer hurt her as she had become a good person, but Pierangelo and his Fangcrushers' Guild accomplices were unaware of this), with a stake aimed ominously at her chest.
The CRASH! of the old monastery's heavy wooden door being flung open indicated someone's arrival. Dreadword strode in, with a heavy, grim pace. He arrived at the courtyard, and gasped upon seeing Alinea bound to an X-shaped brass frame, with the silver chains and stake aimed at her chest. He demanded, "What is the meaning of this?! Your conflict is with ME, Pierangelo! Leave Alinea out of this!"
Pierangelo strode out of the shaded corridors, smiling bitterly. He spat, "Did you leave *la mia famiglia* (my family) out of this?! Huh?! You killed ALL of them!" Amateo shot back without missing a beat, "*E allora che dire della MIA FAMIGLIA?!* (Then what about MY FAMILY?!) You got that hypocritical lump of filth in the Vatican to issue edicts that cost us EVERYTHING! I lost SIX family members to suicide - my beloved brother and nephew among them!"
Pierangelo then stated with grim finality, "*Comunque non importa*, (Still, no matter) Amateo. We will finish this today. You will see what you have worked for, so hard, be taken from you, right in front of your very eyes. *Uccidi la vampira!* (Kill the vampiress!)"
Dreadword yelled, "NO, DON'T! TAKE MY LIFE INSTEAD OF HERS!" but too late.
TWANG! SHTHUNCK!
A sharp twanging sound of the ballista's trigger releasing sounded, followed by the sickening sound of wood thudding into flesh.
"EAAAHHHH! Uhh-ahh..." A shriek of agony, followed by a weak gasp, sounded from Alinea, as her head flopped to the side and her eyes closed.
"ALINNNEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Dreadword's scream of grief and agony as he fell to his knees, covering his face as his tears fell, woke the echoes of the ancient monastery, even as Pierangelo grinned vindictively.
However, Pierangelo underestimated Dreadword's resolve. As much as his grief had broken him, in the next instant it was replaced by a terrifying fury. Dreadword rose to his feet, a glint in his eyes. A glint that had never been seen in his eyes ever since the day he chose to be a hero.
He then said, softly but with a razor's edge of hatred in every word, "*Molto bene, questo lo pagherai. E non mi tirerò indietro.* (Very well, you will pay for this. And I will not hold back.)"
"I CURSE YOU, THAT EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY FEELS LIKE IT'S BREAKING, BUT IS NOT BROKEN! I CURSE YOUR FLESH, TO FEEL THE FIRES OF DAMNATION, BUT NOT BURN! I CURSE YOUR EYES, TO FEEL LIKE THEY ARE BEING CARVED BY RAZORS, BUT REMAIN UNHARMED! I CURSE YOUR MUSCLES, TO FEEL LIKE THEY ARE CONVULSING IN UNCONTROLLABLE AGONY, YET ALLOW YOU TO REMAIN MOBILE! I CURSE YOUR EARS TO HEAR THE SHRIEKS OF A MILLION TORTURED SOULS, YET NEVER BECOME DEAF! I CURSE YOUR MOUTH, TO TASTE THE WASTE OF EVERY ANIMAL AND HUMAN EVER, AND I CURSE YOUR THROAT TO BE UNABLE TO VOMIT! I CURSE YOUR BRAIN, THAT YOU WILL BE WRACKED WITH THOUGHTS OF GUILT AND SELF-HATRED FOR LIFE!"
Pierangelo's contortions and writhing and piercing screams of excruciation did not bother Dreadword. He walked slowly to the X-shaped frame, and knelt before it as he wept, "Alinea... *la bellezza mia insanguinata* (my bloodwashed beauty), I'm... I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry..."
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jh4tijz
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jh4bqrx
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[WP] The men in your family die the moment they turn 18, due to a curse cast on one of your ancestors by a witch. You turned 18 a week ago and are still living, and as a result a descendant of the witch has arrived to figure out why you didn't die.
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It has been a few days since my 18th birthday, almost a week in fact. This is something that was not supposed to happen. Which is why an ancient enemy has decided to meet me.
“Well speak of the devil, you’re actually still alive.” A young feminine voice from behind me said.
“Amen to that.” I say as I turn to look back, taking a bite out of my green tea flavored ice cream. I guess not all witches are old hags.
“No god could have saved you from that curse, none of the new ones anyway.” She says as she sits down.
“I know, is that why you still practice the magic of the old gods? Just how long do you think that chronomany will keep you going? Not even the god of time himself would be able to undo his own death.”
“Is that what you used? Chronomancy? To extend your own life you would reach into the realms of dark magic?” She said with a smirk as she drank from the cup of coffee she came to the ice cream shop with. “That’s pathetic.”
“Ha, no no none of that, that is what your ancestors did to try and keep your old gods alive after they were done with their own civil war.” I say as I lean forward. “What was pathetic was using your dying god’s power to curse my entire bloodline, knowing we would not be able to fight off divine magic without our own god.”
“And yet here you are. That curse was meant to kill off your bloodline centuries ago.”
“Chronomancy, funny thing is, you can only ever use it to extend the life of a god. Based on some math, your god died decades ago, and so should have that curse. But it did not.” I say as I take another bite from my ice cream. “Your ancestors turned your god into a divine item. Your god might be dead, but his power, his magic still remains.”
“Which brings us back to you.” She responds. “Divine magic of this caliber doesn’t wear off, it cannot be undone by any of the new gods, they are too weak. How are you still alive?”
“It’s quite simple actually, I’m immortal.”
“What?”
“Divine magic can be a pain in the ass sometimes. I knew attaining immortality using non-divine methods would not allow me to survive past 18. So I continued what my ancestors did, I collected ancient runes, runes from the old gods. The divine magic of an old god can only be undone by another old god, because the new gods lack so much power. But there was not enough to undo this curse, but there was enough for me to ascend.”
I see her tremble. Her eyes start to glow a dark red, darkness begins to surround her. “You brought it here didn’t you? Knowing that I would be here.” Her ring flares to life. “So I brought insurance.”
“That ring, I see.” I say as I stand up, her energy pushes my ice cream off its cone. “Damn it, I wanted to finish that.”
“Even an immortal being can be killed by divine magic, as such are the power of gods. What is your weapon of choice? What item have you bound your god to?”
“Item?” I say as I push my glasses up. “You’re looking at him.” I say as I surround myself in a bright yellow glow. “Your curse ends with me, for divine curses cannot be placed on gods.”
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She showed up outside my door one night in the form of a fierce wind. Dark and foreboding, her powers buffeted the house, searching for an answer. Any ordinary person might have assumed a hurricane or tornado was on its way, and check the weather forecast in confusion, but I knew.
I felt a sinking feeling in my chest, the chest too flat that didn't fit the bras I stuffed with socks and underwear that matched the parts of this body I was born in. Somewhere there was a god laughing at their cruel joke, trapping me in a male body cursed to die at 18. And yet, maybe I could have the last laugh after all. For I didn't die on my birthday, like all the men in my family have before. My mother's screams echoed in my head, my aunts holding her back while glaring at me out of the corners of their eyes. Their hatred was palpable. "Why does that abomination get to live while Lucas had to die!?" She had shrieked. The next day, my aunts had dumped me at this little shack in the middle of nowhere with the few belongings I had. One of them had thrown the bras I'd smuggled at my face. "Now you can live out your little fantasies until you die, you wicked ******," she had snarled at me before getting in the car and driving away. And then I had sat here, waiting.
The next morning, there was a knock at the door. I opened it, and the young woman standing there stared at me in confusion. "I'm sorry, are you not Matthew Waters?" She asked. The sinking feeling grew. "That is what they named me when I was born, but I go by Maddy now," I said, hating how deep my voice sounded.
"So you ARE Matthew Waters?"
Rage. That is the only way to describe how I felt in that moment. I had spent my whole life under the weight of a curse for a gender the world said I had to be, and now that I was finally free, SHE had to throw it right back in my face. A curse of my own I could never escape.
I wanted to scream at her, grab her by the shoulders and shake her, make her understand what living in this body was like, but I couldn't. She had what I never could. In that moment, I reached a decision. If I didnt stand up for myself now, I never would. "No, I'm not." I said, seeing the confusion in her eyes and hating her and the world for it.
"But, you just said-" she started, but I cut her off.
"There was a girl born to that name, born to a curse they said she would inherit simply because of the body she was born in, but I guess even the curse couldn't deny who I am. I am NOT Matthew Waters. I am Maddy, and I am NOT a boy."
I watched the understanding dawn in her eyes, and I hated that too. I hated all of it, and I felt something build deep down inside of me, red and black and twisted and powerful. The woman startled, feeling it too. "My word," she breathed. She raised a hand, forming a spell, but I raised my hand, too, and something dark shot out and swallowed her spell. I felt perfect clarity within me.
"If the world won't accept me for who I am, then I'll burn it to ash and breathe the flames of the damned. This curse, this world, this body will no longer define me. They call me an abomination, so I'll become what they hate and drown them in their fear."
"Wait." I looked at her. "Let me help." She waved a hand, but this time I didn't stop her. A strange tingling sensation came over my body and I stared down in disbelief as my bra filled out, the bulge in my underwear softened and disappeared, and my vocal cords thinned and shortened. I looked at her, disbelieving what she had just done. She held a hand out to me. "I'm so sorry I didn't see at first. That was wrong of me. If you like, I can be the first you destroy." Her gaze softened, and she looked up at me. "Or, we can burn this cruel world together." The possibilities of what could come swirled around in my head with the realization of the transformation she had just completed. "Thank you." The high voice that was now mine broke off with emotion, and she smiled at me, still holding out her hand. I now felt perfect peace, and perfect indignation. I took her hand in mine.
"Together."
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jsepi9n
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jse8s9a
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[WP] You married a fairy and experienced drastic physical changes. Enduring intense hunger, constant salivation, and even the strange sensation of your body dissolving inside a cocoon. But you hate the color of your wings. You are sorrowful and disappointed, despite your partner consoling you.
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"My wings! They're... shades of grey? But I wanted to be beautiful, like you..."
"Honey, you are beautiful. I married you, remember?"
"Yeah I guess. But you look like a rainbow, and I'm... nothing."
"Honey..."
The grey-winged fairy's partner thought for a bit. There was probably a magical solution faster than therapy for this.
"I've got it! We'll show your true colors under the L A M P."
"L A M P. Why do I feel awe at that word?"
"It's special to us. It reveals us. It's sacred. It's L A M P."
"Okay. Let's make the journey."
One hour via metro later, and they were at the sacred L A M P facility.
"Here we are. I'll sign in."
Inside, there were obviously distressed fairies of all colors, some even more intense than Grey's partner. The wait was not long.
"Next!" The representative called out.
"Our turn, come on."
Grey followed.
Inside a round room stood L A M P. It was a bulb of immense size. On one side stood a technician in front of a control panel with hundreds of buttons, knobs, and gauges.
"I'm going to stand right over here, and will be with you the whole time hun."
"O... okay."
The representative left them alone. The technician spoke.
"This won't hurt."
The lamp powered on, dimly at first, then brighter. Something unexpected happened, and Grey noticed.
"I'm... I'm beautiful!"
Color started appearing in Grey's wings. Patterns and blobs, weaving up and down, left and right, like a tree extending downward. It was impressive.
"How can this be?"
The technician answered.
"Those of us thought without color actually do have it. We fluoresce. Night is our day, and we are beautiful. This L A M P emits the frequencies of light we have during our midwinter solstice festival, when the moon is full."
Grey started crying.
"I'm... beautiful?"
Grey's partner chimed in.
"Yes, you are hun. I've always seen you for who you are."
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"*Oh, this is weird.*" Amber laughed at my... well, not distress. What emotion was this? "*I'm not used to being smaller than everyone else.*"
"Aww, but you're so cute!" Amber embraced me, causing me to laugh.
"Do you always feel everything so... intensely?"
"Not all the time. When stuff gets intense, then yeah, a fairy's emotions will usually get really intense. Like when I'm excited, like right now!"
"So *that's* why everything feels so much stronger than it normally does." I shook my head, flinging a few droplets of some liquid or other out of my hair. "Is the whole cocooning process how all fairies are born?" Amber fluttered onto a collection of flowers she'd arranged while I was... metamorphosing, I guess. She put me down, and then caught me when my legs refused to support my weight.
"No, just pure-born fairies. The whole thing you went through is specifically for when humans are being transformed into fairies."
"Huh."
I'd never... Well, I'd never *not* believed in fairies, but I'd never thought they were real either. I think that makes sense, right? Didn't really put enough thought into it to decide whether they existed or not. Turns out, they do!
I'd walked into a flower shop I didn't recognize with tons of beautiful flowers and the like. The shopkeeper-
"Wait. Was that shopkeeper...?" Amber laughed, with a sound like birdsong.
"Yep!"
"*That's* why she was so eager to give me your flower! She was a fairy too!" Amber nodded.
The shopkeeper had given me a bud that I didn't recognize, which was bold considering my utter lack of green fingers. But I'd trusted her, due to what I now assumed was some sort of magic, and I'd taken it home. I'd watered the plant, left it in the sun, and several days later it had bloomed, with Amber in the center of the flower.
We'd become fast friends, and not just because we were living together. Amber was really nice! Better than... well, *most* humans I knew. Obviously there was a lot of stuff one of us could do better than the other. I could handle big things easily and get around quickly, and... she had magic and could fly and was small.
I grinned up at Amber. "I'm *so* glad I told you I was jealous of your whole... fairy-ness."
"Oh, I am too! I've got tons to show you!" I tilted my head.
"How are we going to... you know. Explain everything?"
"Well, since we're small, food is really easy to come by. I can show you some magic to get back to a taller size. But that's later! Come on, I want to show you my home!"
"Sure! Wait... don't I get...?" Amber clapped her hands together.
"Right! Wings! That's gonna take an extra hour or two while your body finishes adapting."
"Oh, okay!" I was able to get myself into a standing position, then I raised my arms. "I guess you'll just have to airlift me, then!" Amber laughed, then grabbed and picked me up. I'd always thought she was shockingly strong, but especially now that I was tiny.
"Okay, then! One trip to my house, coming right up!"
|
ls5navm
|
ls5iil8
|
[WP] A drug is discovered that stops all effects of aging. You decide to not take it. 20 years pass and the side effects are discovered.
|
Heading towards the 2070s, it seemed like every year, there was some new pharmaceutical wonder drug. Wanna improve your eyesight? Pop a pill. Want to be smarter? More attractive? Want to be the best version of yourself?
Well, there were pills promising to do all that and then some. The one thing nobody had cracked yet was immortality, eternal youth. There were some cybernetic end of life options that could continue your consciousness, at least a copy of it. But, if you wanted to keep the ol' flesh and blood, you were simply shit out of luck.
One day, a genetic engineer working in one of the labs of the biggest pharmaceutical company on the planet noticed the effects of a novel human adenovirus he had engineered. The human cells in the petri dish, taken from the elderly were showing signs of heightened activity. Upon further investigation, it was found that the telomeres were being repaired. After a few phone calls, samples of nearly every type of human cell were being procured to ensure similar results across tissue types. The trials were a resounding success.
Within a few months, secret human trials began. They hadn't wanted to get the public's hopes up, I guess. After a few years, the trial participants were in the best health condition of their lives. Their bodies had stabilized such that they looked no older than 25. All participants were over the age of 80. The drug became an instant hit. Governments and companies subsidized the drug, consumers, and taxpayers who never die sounded like money to those in power.
In the end, there were few, like myself, who opted out of the drug. My personal philosophy was that a thing isn't beautiful because it lasts. Life wasn't meant to go on forever. The thing the trials never realized was that with each passing year, those on the drug regressed mentally. First slowly, and then exponentially faster. Since everyone was on the drug, nobody but the few who had abstained even noticed what was going on. Today, I am one of the few adults in a world of children.
To care for all those around me is a tremendous burden. As I reach my 80th year, I fear for what will happen when I am gone. In some bizarre twist of fate I suddenly find myself wishing I had the drug. If only to buy myself more time to save them. As it stands, it looks like humanity's forray into immortality is what made us finally kick the bucket.
|
It seemed like a wonderful idea, really. Immortality was the stuff of dreams, of myths, something people had been chasing for eons. And now, finally, it was here.
She should have been desperate for it; so many were. There has never been a drug shortage like it, but then there had never been a single drug that everyone wanted.
At first, only the wealthiest could afford it. Being rich enough to live forever was its own danger, when desperate groups were willing to attack to get their hands on it. More than a few of the ultra wealthy died due to rumors they might have some. A few even died at the hand of their own bodyguards.
When the price started coming down and the supply increased, things started calming down. The time came when almost everyone could afford it, even though insurance wouldn't cover it.
She still didn't get any.
Eternal youth and beauty, they promised. Well, it was to late for her to have eternal youth. Besides, the young were idiots - sometimes well-meaning, sometimes not, but almost always idiots. She'd done enough stupid things in her life already and had no desire to do more. And these new immortal young seemed worse than the usual kind. Why grow up when you would be young forever?
And as for beauty... Well. She'd been attractive enough as a kid. Everyone had told her what a heartbreaker she was going to turn into. She didn't know what had gone wrong, it wasn't like she's been in an accident or something, but those exclamations of her future looks slowly died off, only to be replaced with faintly puzzled, vaguely disappointed looks and assurance that she looked fine, just fine.
Well. She had reasons not to want to live in a world full of young beautiful people, and she owed no one an explanation of why.
So she went about her life, and aged, and ignored the rude questions as to why on Earth she would do such a thing. It was interesting enough watching this new society from the outside, and seeing how things, and people, changed.
Some things got harder, and some things got easier. Art flourished, but it became increasingly hard to find a doctor who could treat the ailments of an aging body.
It was almost two decades later that she started to frown, watching the immortals. It was the nature of the young to be odd, strange, from the perspective of the old. She had started to see it just before the drug came out. But now... She knew it was the nature of the old to complain of the young, how their actions make no sense, and they were foolish and heading for disaster.
She didn't know if they were heading for disaster, because she had no idea where they were going at all. There was something, something odd about the forever young. Not in the way that the young are different from the old, not in the way that slang makes no sense; part of the purpose of slang is to confuse the older generations.
No, this was something different. This was a strangeness in the way they thought. They're useful carelessness seem to become more studied and deliberate, and their actions spoke less of foolishness then of foreignness; a strange esoteric difference like nothing she had never seen.
If she was feeling melodramatic, she would even say it seemed alien.
Or perhaps not. For as time passed, the immortal youth seemed to discard their human pretense. They became aliens on their own planet, barely pretending to be human. And for the first time, she regretted her choice, her now frail body, and feared dying too soon.
She couldn't **wait** to see what came next.
|
m4940gl
|
m47fckz
|
[WP] Their rep was a lie, they lost the fight. It wasnt even close. But then everyone hears on the radio: 'ok the civilians are out of the city... thats your cue, stop playing with this guy and end him'
|
"Your reputation was grossly overstated, Adaman! I was told you were ferocious, that your power was undefeatable, that you were fierce and terrible. I've only been toying with you to see if you've got something more, but it's been an hour and you're not even trying. It's almost impressive that you're still breathing from the thrashing I've given you!"
Corrupture lifted his foe from the ground to bring him to eye level, "Those of your old foes who were still alive speak of you in hushed reverence as they keep their heads down in fear of you. Those fools. You're just durable and I think I'm going to finish this-"
Suddenly a headset laying on the ground nearby, knocked to the ground in the early minutes of the fight, let out a screech and a person's voice came over the airwaves, "Okay, we're clear, all the people are out of the city! You've been given the thumbs up to fight back!"
The limp body of his foe started to shake and Corrupture heard weak laughter, "Your intel network doesn't seem to be really up to snuff, buddy. First thing, my name isn't Adaman, it's Atom Man. And my power isn't exactly Fierce or Terrible, or Ferocious... It's Explosive." He snapped his fingers.
There was a sudden bright light.
Then everything went dark.
There was no time to evade.
Everything was vaporized.
|
CW: Violence and Murder at the end.
Freddy was grinning maliciously as he watched his eternal foe, Blair, struggles to get off the ground covered in bruises and blood. The man sneered as the African-American used a car to stand up and took some deep breaths.
“Is this all the power you had?!” The man taunted his foe. “Your reputation was clearly overrated to a ludicrous degree!!” He spread his arms out as he continued to gloat with electricity sparking between his hands.
“Oh, what joy this brings me! To finally end your accursed bloodline! May you find eternal damnation in hell!” He laughs uproariously, loud enough for the remaining people in the city to hear as they all watched in horror for their guardian’s fate.
At least, all but one blonde woman who merely looked bored as she hold an earpiece up to her ear and nods.
“Everyone got out, Asuka?” The blonde nods with a smile, pleased with the news. “Ok, cool. I’ll tell him.”
She clears her throat and call out to Blair. “BLAIR! ALL THE CIVILIANS MANAGED TO GET OUT OF THE CITY NOW!” As she said this, Freddie paused in charging his attack and gives her a confused look. All the while, he misses Blair instantly healing himself up with his purple flames. “STOP PLAYING WITH THIS CHUMP AND END HIM SO WE CAN GET ON THE PLANE TO MONACO!!!”
“(What the hell is that Lili woman talking abou-)” was all Freddie could think as he get gut punched by Blair who smirks before blasting him through a building from his flames. Freddie crashed through the post office and end up on the opposite side of it as he hack up blood and see that during the crash, his right arm is broken.
“Wh-what the fuck?!?” The villain tries to get up, but is instantly grabbed at the back of his neck by Blair and tossed up to the air before getting kicked towards a street lamp. This breaks his back as he fall down to the ground in agony while Blair walk over to him, charging up a bow made of purple flames and creating an arrow to finish him.
“Wh-wh-WHY?! I WAS WINNING, DAMNIT!!”
Freddie cries tears of anger as Blair stands in front of him.
“You really thought that you was winning? I only delayed your ass whooping cause of the innocent lives here.” Blair’s arrow gets brighter as he gets ready to fire. “Now that they are gone, your reign of tyranny is over, Freddie.”
And the last thing Freddie saw was Blair letting loose his arrow that ignited his body on fire and ended his life.
|
lkm3nko
|
lkm1k17
|
[WP]Adam and Eve wrote the Bible to cover up the real evil they committed that got them kicked out of Eden. This is the story of what really happened.
|
In the beginning, there was just Adam and Eve. And then Eve ate the apple and thus Adam and Eve were kicked out of the garden of Eden and thus began life on earth. Except, Adam and Eve may have changed the story a little.
Truth be told, there were four. Adam and Eve, their sweet little daughter and her best friend, a dog. The dog and the girl were inseparable. Day in and day out, the two would play together. The neighbors (God by then had created a few more people) commented on how cute the pair was. Unbeknownst to the little girl, Adam and Eve were experimenting. Without God’s knowledge, they were creating new creatures. Hybrid creatures. The platypus is the most famous example. However creatures like manatees existed through experiments too. The manatee was failed attempt to creating a mermaid. Adam and Eve tried merging a tuna, human and elephant together. Tuna for the fins, a human (probably Abel) for the human half, and the elephant to give it strength.
They exhausted the limited supply of humans. God did not take notice. But someone did take notice. The serpent. It had been eyeing Adam and Eve since their last experiment and suspected them of dwindling the humans down. What God did not tell humanity was that the serpent, although evil, was Gods first lieutenant, the way Set served Ra in Egyptian mythology. That night, the serpent watched Adam and Eve sweet talk the little girl and coaxed the dog to follow them into their lab. The serpent watched as a new creature was born, a hybrid capable of human speech. The serpent rushed to God and informed Him what it witnessed. There God came down and listen to Adam and Eve’s explanation. Then He said “Can I ask you one more question? Where did Nina and Alexander go?”
|
"Have you ever seen an oroborus?" an old man asks a child with a distant look in his eye.
"The snake eating it's own tail?" The child replies cautiously.
Grandpa Adam was always a bit strange but Noah loved to hear his and Grandma Eves stories.
No one knew exactly how old they were but they'd out survived many generations.
Grandpa Adam nodded slowly "yes, the snake eating it's tail," he paused in thought, "have you ever wondered why it's eating it's tail?"
Grandma Eve shot grandpa Adam a fierce look, but slowly her features softened and she nodded. "I think you're right it's time," she said as she came closer to Noah and Adam and took a seat with them on a rug on the floor.
Adam began "when we were younger."
"Much younger Eve interjected"
"Yes much younger...."
----
Adam and Eve were frolicking in the garden, playing and laughing as they always did.
Playing with the many creatures who made up the garden as well when a serpent approached Eve.
Eve looked at it curiously, then it spoke to her
"How are you today Eve?" It asked, then tilted it's head to Adam "and you as well?"
"We are happy for it's all we know," Eve replied cheerfully
"Would you like to know other things?" The snake replied.
"What kinds of things?" Asked Adam.
"Things other than happiness for one," the serpent remarked, "just eat this fruit and you will know much"
So Adam and Eve ate the fruit - it had never been forbidden as had been told in the past, but the knowledge that came with it was heavy, and made them resent the serpent.
For days, and years, and centuries, Adam and Eve lived in the garden further. They grew restless, they knew of a barren world that existed beyond the walls. They knew of a future that could only be if they left, but they knew they would never again be so happy as they were if they did.
They blamed the snake for what it did. And one day they had enough.
They gathered every snake in the garden, but could not be sure of the one who gave them the fruit.
Adam grew angrier and angrier at the snakes.
One day Eve found the snake and captured it.
They questioned it extensively, but it did not know why it gave them the fruit.
In a fit of rage Adam grabbed the snake and shoved it's tail down its throat.
Eve screamed for him to stop because it was horrible and Adam threw the snake away from him, in horror and shame at what he had done.
That snake and the remaining ones grew hostile to them both, and they knew they must leave the garden afterall.
--
"And that's why we really left" Adam concluded to Noah
"But grandpa Adam!" Noah whined, "that story is a lot more boring than the last version you told."
Eve just chuckled, "you know Noah - it'd be a lot easier if you'd let us tell you a different bedtime story"
"I like this one though! It's different every time!"
|
kx0e41e
|
kx0dhih
|
[WP] In a world where lycanthropy has no known cure, you were thrown into quarantine after being bitten. It's been one whole month and...
|
The doctors felt somehow stronger than the cops had when they saw the bite, manhandling me into a chair, mumbling science babble I couldn't understand. Lights in my eyes. Tugs on my ears. Clip on my finger, heart monitor going *beep, beep, beep.*
"Open the window more."
The half-cocked blinds zipped open.
"Open the glass."
*Thunk* went the pane. Yellowed moonlight glazed my skin.
The doctors stared at each other, then at me, then at the sensors.
"Am I...am I cured, Doc?" I managed a nervous half-smile, but I couldn't stop staring at the gaggle of nurses building at the door. Their faces told me something was deeply wrong, or at least, deeply strange.
*Dr. Ezekiel Thurman*, said the nametag that moved forward, the eyes above it boring into mine. His quiet breathing and the nattering *beep*ing were all that kept me grounded as I stared at his bewildered face. It was no less alarmed than the throng behind him.
"There *is* no cure."
I opened my mouth to speak, but only a silly *bwuh?* sound came out as I offered a shrug. What was I supposed to say? All your tests were wrong, Doc? You must've mixed me up with someone else? He had to have thought that already, from his gaping mouth. I barely felt the pinch as a needle dove into my arm and pulled out a vial of blood.
"I believe in medical consent, Ms. Tate. I won't demand a single thing of you. But if you've managed to beat this *thing*, somehow..." He took several steps back and wobbled in a lazy circle as if he had just noticed the entire world for the first time around him. "Have you heard of Rhesus disease?"
Mumbles from the throng. His colleague siphoned off several more vials and stacked all of them in a little plastic rack, then handed it to the nearest nurse.
"No. Sorry."
"One man in Australia had antibodies in his blood plasma that could be processed to treat it. He was a fluke, a random stroke of luck. They called him the Man with the Golden Arm." He chuckled once in disbelief. "You might have the Silver Arm. This might be it."
"How, uh..." I glanced at the needle still firmly in my left elbow. "How much do you need? I'm not locked up here, right? You said you wouldn't demand anything?"
He paused and blinked once. "...What? No. No, no, God, no, of course not. You can get up and go right home if you want. But if you would allow us to take samples to see just what it is about you that is holding it back, we might be able to give it to someone else, stop the change before its first cycle."
"My sister -- my daughters -- they're all waiting in the lobby. Can someone at least tell them what's going on?"
"Yes. Heavens, go -- go yourself and tell them." He pressed a wad of gauze to my arm and plucked out the needle, then slid a strip of tape across it. "We need to analyze what we have."
As I approached the nurses, the crowd thinning to take my blood vials away and murmur about the situation, I saw Dr. Thurman slump onto a stool with his phone in his hand. The lights above me blurred together along the hallway as I picked my way back to the ward entrance, a man in tow who was ostensibly leading me but really just making sure I didn't get lost. Whatever he said wasn't coming through right.
Was it true? I was cured? Or rather, I cured myself? And this could stop the murders, stop the damage, stop the city grinding to a halt every full moon while everyone hid from the wolves?
"Mom?"
I stood in the doorway, arms askew, listening to them swing shut behind me.
"It's gone," I whispered, and only then did I notice the tears in my eyes. "It's gone! I'm going to be okay! Mom's going to be okay!"
They hugged my legs, my sister sinking to the floor in sobbing joy.
|
I stared up at the ceiling, lying on my back. Around me, I could hear the chatter of a few other suspected cases. They spoke with each other, though the tension was obvious. Many like me had fallen silent, waiting for the inevitable.
Today marked one lunar month since most of us had been bitten. Although some were suspected to be false cases, i knew mine wasn't. I had watched her transform before my eyes, felt her teeth sink into my flesh. Yet she didn't kill me. I was at her mercy, but she left me alone after that one bite.
I was infected. This night would confirm it, as the moon reached its zenith. The disease would take over, and I would lose my mind. If I was lucky, I would regain it after this long night ended. But if I wasn't, then I would be a lost cause, a beast in mind forever.
It was an odd feeling. Like I was on a train speed towards a cliff. There was no way to stop or avoid it. All I could do was sit back, and let the ride take me. I tried to convince myself I was fine with it, that this would be what it will be. But alas, I knew I wasn't. I was terrified, the thought of losing myself forever haunting me.
The chatter died down, as our guards sounded the alarm. Not that I needed it. Even without the moon being visible, i felt it. A tightness in my skin. An ache in my bones. A thudding in my head. It was coming. The end was here.
With every passing second, the feeling grew worse. There was pressure, desperate for release. Energy came to me, making my restlessness even worse. My breaths came deeper and heavier, and I clawed at the sheets beneath me. Drool filled my mouth, each tooth feeling loose and off.
Moans sounded around me, and I joined in. It was obvious some were rougher than others, closer to muffled screams then simple groans. A burning filled my throat, making me gag and spit. Any one symptom alone wasn't bad. But together they felt insurmountable.
A muffled moan suddenly went quiet. It was swiftly followed by a loud crack, agonised cries rising in turn. We all went quiet hearing that, holding our collective breaths.
For a moment it was peaceful. Yet it didn't remain that way. The floodgates opened, cracks sounding all around. I could feel my bones creaking from some hidden pressure, before they too gave away with a sickening crack.
The pain rode the wave of anticipation. I retreated into my mind as my body was wracked with the change. Yet even my mind was affected. I felt intrusive thoughts, focusing on the room and smells. The idea of grinding my teeth onto the heavy metal door. A thought of ripping the bed below me into pieces. The scent of warm flesh.
I fought against them, trying to hold on. I was still me. If I let myself be consumed by them, I knew I would be lost. I had to cling to rationality as hard as possible if I were to wake from this nightmare.
I could feel the unnatural presence in my head. A predator, hunting me inside my own mind. I stared it down, holding my ground. It growled, I snarled back. It lunged, and I dodged. It turned, and I hit it in turn.
It didn't always go my way. It landed some bites. It wanted to win, just as much as I did. We fought back and forth, trying to dominate the other. I felt myself growing tired, but my opponent was in turn.
It slumped before me, heaving. We were both wrecked, exhausted from our battle. I couldn't summon any strength to win, nor could it.
Instead, I felt pity for the monstrous beast. I reached out, an open palm in place of a fist. It sniffed at me, before placing its snout in my hand. I smiled at it, as an unspoken agreement was forged.
\-----
My eyes opened. I stood in my cell, panting. The scent of my fellow lycanthropes was in my nostrils, undercut with the smell of humans. The door before me was scratched and gouged, but held strong.
I felt the predator with me. It wanted to hunt, wanted to feast, wanted to be free. But it wasn't in control. And neither was I. We were a team now. We opened our mouth, giving a long, echoing howl. My fellows paused, before howling or bellowing in turn.
I knew we had to be careful though. It was known that lycanthropes were always kept locked away. Those who maintained their minds were officially watched over, but in reality they were used as slave labour. Those who didn't were simply never heard from again.
If they knew we were in control together, it wouldnt be good. I had no idea what would happen to us, but I doubted we wiuod be faced with sunshine and rainbows. We just had to bide our time, and work out how to escape later.
For now, we had to keep up the act. The predator happily took the forefront of our body, attacking the door and walls once more. I watched, and waited. Morning couldn't come soon enough.
|
jypbnat
|
jypasp8
|
[WP] "Your total will be...wait this can't be right." The cashier turned around and called the manager over. The manager then quickly shooed the employee away as they took over at the register. "I'm sorry for the delay, we haven't had one of your kind in awhile, your total comes to 3 souls."
|
"...these are goat souls..." The manager stared blankly like I just slapped his face with a trout.
"Were you expecting human souls for a few jars of pickled newt eyes and goat's blood?" I was just as perplexed as he was in disbelief at the payment I just offered on the table.
He pointed to some obscured signage peeking behind a shelf stocked with snake wine and cobra condiments. "It's our store owner's preferred soul currency."
"I can pay in cash or credit card if goat souls aren't accepted. What's the prevailing exchange rate between ethereal and mortal currency?"
"What kind of eldritch horror doesn't have a single human soul on him?" He glowered and slammed his palms on the conveyor belt.
Is this mere human judging me, like I'm some kind of 3rd rate low class eldritch citizen because I don't eat humans anymore? Or worse than the pond scum in a dirty aquarium because I'm a pariah and exile among my own kind?
"Please allow me to swipe my card. My credit limits are much higher than what 3 souls are worth if—"
"No ifs, no buts. 3 souls. Like what it says on the register, please. Don't make this difficult for all of us." He was adamant and inflexible, not budging an inch.
"Whaf if I told you I know the owner of Marcy's Magic Shoppee?" I asked.
"Everyone says that when they don't get their way."
"Do you know who I am? You are currently speaking with Lord—"
"Everyone says that next when they don't get their way. If you have a fancy title, don't bother waving it around like a drunken moron waving his dick around. It got no weight here, all customers are treated equally—"
"Equally bad, if you don't offer me the flexibility of paying in another currency," I retorted with a sinister glow in my eyes, tentacles creeping up the counter a little too close to comfort for the average human.
"Don't get your panties in a bunch...how about this, I hold on to your jars, you go kill a few poor souls and come back to pay," the manager offered without a shred of awareness of the irony of his words.
With my patience stretched thin from being interrupted, I couldn't resist being all snarky about it. "How about I kill you, the new cashier standing next to you, and the nosy shelf stocker listening in on this conversation? That should give me 3 human souls."
He accepted my credit card and swiped it.
"Hey...er... Mr. Eldritch lord, you wanna buy anything on the go? Marcy's Magic Shoppee has some new drinks from other realms..." The new cashier was trembling as she forced the words out.
"One blended Fae flurry on the rocks, medium, thank you."
"What's the name I should write on your cup?"
"Lord Elvari."
The manager snatched the cup from her hand and scratched something on his squeaky marker.
"Fuck yer fancy titles, I didn't catch that so—"
"Don't make me pay for that Fae flurry with your soul."
"That will be eight bucks...Lord Elvari."
---
[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/)
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What. The. Hell? How on earth did a retail store, of all places, guess that I was an immortal? Something strange was happening. I’ve been around the block, so to speak, my fair share of times. It was pretty clear that if I just paid and left, I would be taking a meaningful loss. So I had to stall.
“Your price is too high. Let us bargain. I offer 5 minutes and 3000 lumens of sunlight.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the manager replied, “but our store does not negotiate prices as a principle. I’m afraid the cost will remain at three souls.”
I needed more time to think. “But you do price match?” I replied.
“Yes sir. However I have doubts that you will find another available listing of this product model in your particular currencies. Three souls.”
I pulled out an old leather bound notebook. It looked ancient, but was far older. I found the information I needed. “I see a listing for these particular items at the price of one micropercentage of the essence of blue and two tesseracts.”
The manager looked slightly confused, and started typing furiously into his computer terminal. I examined him. Something seemed off about his appearance. Maybe it was the proportions of his face. It stirred at some long forgotten part of my memory. He scowled and looked back up at me.
“Is this listing currently available?” the manager asked.
“Ah, that. No, depending on your definition of ‘currently.’ It will become available on Amazon approximately fifteen thousand years from now.”
“I’m afraid that our policy is only to price match on current listings, to allow us to adjust to changing material prices and other factors. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course,” I countered, “But you surely understand that, as our currencies are not bound temporally, neither must your prices be, and therefore your policies. Therefore this listing will be completely within the purview of this bargain.”
Something akin to a mental itch was driving me to notice something. With an effort of will, I saw that it was the original cashier, who was still standing slightly behind the manager’s shoulder and looking confused and frightened. Ah, I had mildly let my aura loose. It generally had that effect on mortals. The manager clearly wasn’t one. More than that, he was clearly a powerful immortal. His essence had affected me enough that I had stopped noticing the surroundings. Such things would be easy against a mortal, but not me. That meant he was strong.
The manager made an almost imperceptible pained expression. “You are correct,” he said. “Your price will be 1 micropercentage of blue and two tesseracts. Would you like a warranty plan?”
“For a toaster? I think not,” I said smugly as I pulled a couple of tesseracts from my satchel’s higher-dimensional-storage pocket. I handed them over. “And here is your blue.” I gifted it with a thought and noticed the world become just a little bit more orange.
A smile that was clearly a facade spread over the manager’s face as he said, “Thank you for your purchase, please come again!”
I had outwitted him. That was probably enough, so I headed toward the exit doors. I stopped on a whim just before I pushed through and re-examined my memory. There, that was it. His head seemed off because the back of it had been… lumpy somehow. And… there was also a line of a makeup prosthetic around the edge of his face. Then it clicked.
I walked back up to the counter and stepped over it.
“Janus, you sneaky bastard,” I said to the back of the so-called ‘manager’s’ head. It swiveled to face me with a smile.
“Well reasoned, Wanderer.” he said with a slight bow. “You cannot blame me for trying. Enjoy the toaster.”
I walked away again, heading for a section of wall near the door. Now that I knew to look, I felt Janus’ power on the exit doors. It would have stolen nearly all of my abilities. The transaction was just a distraction. I punched through the wall and left on my own terms.
I may have almost been unmade, but it was still better than shopping at Walmart. They charge a soul just to get in.
|
lv34jyh
|
lv25yr9
|
[WP] "Why do we make laser grids like these?" "What do you mean?" "I mean instead of a messy random arrangement of lasers that a nimble intruder might be able to jump through, why not a simple grid wall with no gaps large enough to allow a person to pass through?"
|
"Non-escalation."
"What?"
"It's an unwritten rule in the villain rulebook. Always leave ways for the hero to break in, stop you, etc. Helps keep the government from going all out on us. A laser grid like you're talking about ends up with a whole lot of dead secret agents. You ever hear of Doctor Clypse?"
"Yeah, he's one of those guys from the old days, almost took over the world in the 80s."
"Yeah, almost. Because he had security like you're talking about. Once the spy agencies realized the body count he had, they threw the covert aspect of fighting him out the window. US Navy parked a carrier battlegroup near his secret island base and threw everything they had at him. Hell they bombed the place so hard they had to reclassify the island as an atoll."
"Jesus."
"Yeah, that's why we leave gaps in security. Trust me, I've been henching for 40 years now, competency gets you killed."
|
Nish stared over at his coworker, Yim, like the girl was a dumb, golden-haired rock.
"One, 'cause those are expensive as hell to make, and two, because these things ain't even guarding against a normal person."
With the help of Yim, he set the laser grid on the conveyor belt, and then flicked her forehead.
"Idiot. Do you even listen when the Miser talks?"
Yim just swatted at him and snapped back, "Of course I listen when the Miser talks! Sometimes I just don't get enough sleep and get really bored, okay!?"
Nish rolled his eyes, mumbling something about how Yim slept whenever she could and how it was entirely her fault for not listening to the Miser.
The Miser of this production facility was Jeei, a being that Nish would call ethereal if it weren't for the Miser's obliviousness. Sometimes Nish wondered how Jeei got this job. Misers like them usually got fired off the bat and replaced with a stricter overwatcher, but they hadn't. Perhaps management was just overlooking it. Like they did to their employees' paychecks.
Anyway, Nish and Yim just grabbed another grid and walked over to the belt.
"So, I forgot what the Miser said on the grids. Uhm, what *do* the grids guard against?"
Nish gave her a deadpan look before answering. "Eccskulls."
Yim tilted her head to the side. "Those big blobs?"
Nish nodded. "The laser grids cut them up into uneven pieces so that they can't move so quickly."
"...aren't they acidic though?"
"The lasers solidify most of the Eccskull pieces."
Yim stared down before nodding like it all made sense now and helped Nish put yet another grid on the belt.
"So when are you buying me the ring?"
Nish scoffed and shook his head. "The day management finally gives me an actual paycheck will be the day I buy a ring for you."
Yim gave him a glare in response.
Out of context but when I was writing this scene I only thought-see them as chibi characters lol
Also Yim and Nish are an engaged couple if you can't tell.
Edit: okay I really enjoyed making this one lol just edited this to put this here XD
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jd7mbne
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jd7frqy
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[WP]Walking into a flower shop and slamming down money on the counter, "How do i passively aggressively say fuck you in flower"
|
"Prerry much anything orange. Lillies are best for passive aggressive. But then you can add Tansies." The flourist plucked a few delicate flowers out and placed them in a vase.
"Really? I mean I wasn't serious but-" the customer watched her is mild surprise as she moved to a wall of different yellow flowers.
"Yellow carnations and some hyacinths, for a pinch of bitterness. Is this person childish and immature?" She added, a delicate hand hovering by a bucket of buttercups."
"Uhh.. yea he is." He said quickly. "I mean I- well... yeah. I'm sending flowers to a guy." He admitted.
The flourist shook her head. "I'm not here to judge. I've seen all kinds." She added the butteercups and some strange purple flowers marked *petunia* "There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love,
remember. And there is pansies, that's for thoughts.
There's fennel for you, and columbines. There's rue for you,and here's some for me. We may call it herb of grace o' Sundays.O, you must wear your rue with a difference! There's a daisy. Iwould give you some violets, but they wither'd all when my father died. They say he made a good end." She recited and placed a large black rose in the center.
"Uhh..." the customer looked at the bouquet.
"It's from Hamlet. As grief drives Ophelia slowly mad, she hands out flowers indicating those who wronged her. Ofcourse, she can't accuse the royal family outright. But each flower she hands is a mark of the wrong. Flowers can be used to say anything."
"Anything?" What about join me for a drink on Tuesday?" The customer smirked. The flourist grinned.
''I know just the answer for that." She grinned and sprayed him with the hose.
The customer yelled and shook his wet hair. "What was that?" He demanded.
She shrugged. "A no. Don't forget your flowers."
|
Walking into a flower shop and slamming down money on the counter, "How do I passively aggressively say fuck you in flower?"
The florist, an old woman with hands like gnarled roots, raised an eyebrow, her eyes glittering with mischief. "Ah, you must be looking for the bouquet of spite," she whispered, beckoning the customer to follow her. The shop was a jungle of strange blossoms, some of which seemed to sing softly, while others shed petals like tears. The customer, a young man with a heart tattooed on his sleeve and a fire in his eyes, followed the florist through the maze of flowers, marveling at the bizarre beauty around him.
At last, they reached a hidden corner where a single, exquisite bouquet sat on a pedestal, its flowers an impossible combination of colors and shapes. It seemed to vibrate with a quiet rage, its petals almost hissing as they brushed against each other. The florist handed the bouquet to the young man, who felt a shiver of power course through him as he held the flowers.
"In this bouquet, you'll find the subtle venom of the sarcastic lily, the cold disdain of the frostbitten rose, and the cruel bite of the snapping orchid," the florist explained, her voice a low, conspiratorial murmur. "Present this to the one who has angered you, and they will feel the sting of your unspoken fury."
The young man hesitated, considering the florist's words. In his heart, he felt a connection to the man named Humphrey from the tale he had heard in his childhood, the one who had brought peace to a world of chaos by solving the riddle of the translucent albatross. Inspired by the story, he made a decision.
"No," he said firmly, handing the bouquet back to the florist. "I've changed my mind. I want a bouquet that speaks of forgiveness and understanding. One that can mend bridges and bring harmony where there is discord."
The florist's eyes widened in surprise, but then she smiled, a warm, genuine smile that lit up her ancient face. "Very well, young man. Follow me, and I shall show you the flowers of reconciliation."
As they walked back through the shop, the flowers seemed to change, their colors softening and their scents growing sweeter. The florist led the young man to a display of delicate blossoms, each one a symbol of peace and unity. Together, they assembled a bouquet of hope and healing, a floral arrangement that whispered of second chances and shared dreams.
With the bouquet in hand, the young man left the shop, his heart light and his step sure. The sun danced overhead, and the moon hid in the shadows of the radiators, but the world seemed brighter, filled with the promise of a kinder, gentler future.
And in the house of upside-down mushroom clouds, the snails' dreams whispered the story of the young man who, like Humphrey before him, had chosen the path of peace and understanding, and who carried with him the power to transform anger into love.
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kod8jry
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kod1ak1
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[WP] So, you're probably wondering why I called you in. I'll cut to the chase. Firstly, we want to promote you for your exceptional work. But... and please don't be alarmed - you should know that technically, no one who works here is "human". Except for you.
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"Was it ... Was it a secret?"
Ben's manager stared at him in shock. "You knew??" Ben raised an eyebrow. "I mean, yeah. You all add the word 'human' to everything. You'll say things like 'let's go for human drinks,' or 'what human food are you ordering for lunch?' Honestly it would be more surprising if you were humans." His manager's face was a picture of confusion.
"We just call it food, or drinks. No one thinks we're about to go drink dog water or something." Recognition flashed in his eyes, and the manager nodded his head in approval. "This is exactly why you're the perfect fit for this job. You humans have spectacular brains," he said. "For thinking! Not eating," he added, hastily.
"Ok. Not loving that defensiveness, but go on. What are you planning? Want to take over the planet?" The manager held up his hands. "No. No. Nothing like that... Unless you... Wanted us to." Ben scratched his nose. "You probably couldn't do a worse job than the people currently running things. I would have a few conditions, though." The manager beckoned, and Ben continued.
"First, I would prefer it if you did not enslave my species." Mr. Manager made a face that Ben likened to having someone fart directly into ones mouth. "Slavery is a uniquely human invention. We would be incapable of inflicting such cruelty." Ben smiled. "Wonderful." Ben paused.
"Second, you'll need to hire a private army."
|
I screamed out of fear as my supervisor rolled up his sleeves to show me the dark slimy scales that ran up his arms.
“It's alright, Jacob, we think it's time you're ready,” he said in a robotic voice, his eyes were soulless, not a single thought behind them.
“Don't be alarmed”, he continued, “We had to show you what we were, you are getting promoted after all”
I could feel my legs shaking under the table as my heart began to pound in my throat, it got harder to breathe as I started stammering “Are you going to eat me?” I questioned him, my eyes dared to not look at his reptilian arm.
He simply laughed like he had always done since the day I met him, except this time it began to turn more into a screeching noise that clawed at the insides of my ears. “NO, I won't ever eat you son, You are one of the best employees here. Why do you think we’ve decided to let you know our little secret?”
“So I am getting promoted?” I questioned, my eyes still daring to not look at him, instead, they kept darting around the blank white room.
“Yes, we’ll make sure all of your needs are met now. Not only do you get free housing for as long as you work here, you’ll also get your private chef and a pay raise” he said, smiling at me.
It was eerie looking at him now, his arms were reptilian and slimy, but on his neck was still the same human face I had been seeing every single day since I graduated.
“Now son, why don't you follow me to your new office” he whispered, it felt almost eerie how he never stopped smiling.
I followed him through countless doors, through hallways I never knew even existed in our office before we stopped in front of a plain white door. Before I could even take in what had just happened in the last 30 minutes he quilt grabbed my hand and slipped me into the room.
The lights were blinding, When my eyes finally began to work all I saw in front of me was a hamster wheel in the center of the room and glass all around the room. Then I felt my blood run cold, the windows showed me countless rooms, each one of them had a human and all of them were running on the wheel like animals.
My supervisor's voice came over the PA speaker, “Everyone, welcome your new co-worker, Jacob, he’ll be joining you now. Jacob, welcome to your new home, and thank you for your ethics.”
Then the company's slogan began to repeat in my head over and over. “EvoCorp, powered by humans”
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krdshem
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krdo7bh
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[WP] The Galactic Federation makes first contact with Earth just to inform us that the planet has been divided up between several advanced civilizations, with no regard for our established national borders
|
It's been 10 months now and god those Brits are getting on my nerves. The Aliens had decided to make all of west Europe and America into one country and I wish they had rather just destroyed the entire planet instead, that might have been easier than this.
I saw another one of them in front of me at the chips aisle, i didnt even need to hear them speak, I could tell just by looking at the way they were holding the chip bag and recording with their phone.
“Can you believe it, this is the size of the food Americans eat, no wonder they’re so fat. Are they going to bring this to our side of the Sylian empire now” she snickered, holding a FAMILY sized bag of chips.
“Uh lady, that's a family sized bag of chips, it's meant for a whole family that's why it's so big” I chimed back , pushing my shopping cart, walking towards her.
“Oh cmon, it's a little joke, we’re part of the same country now. It's just a little British banter” she snapped, showing off the golden yellow tartar pit she called a mouth
"You’ll never be a part of America, you're a Brit” I retorted, looking her dead in the eyes
“WHY OF COURSE, THAT'S BECAUSE AMERICA DOESN'T EXIST NOW DOES IT. WE ARE PART OF THE SYLIAN EMPIRE” she chimed, still keeping that hideous smile on her face as she skipped away into the drink section.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, she was probably going to go film a tiktok about how an American supermarket has so many drinks, IN THE DRINK AISLE.
“Why did we have to be joined with the brits” I questioned loudly, looking up at the bright lights above me for an answer
It was as if god himself answered me “At least be thankful you weren't in one of the Eastern European or Middle eastern countries when all this happened”
“What…” I muttered, did god finally answer my calls?
“Look behind you moron” a voice called out in thick Japanese, it belonged to a girl who came to California recently judging by her accent. No doubt because Japan was also now a part of the Sylian empire.
“There is no Middle East or Eastern Europe” she added, looking at the confusion on my face
“Well obviously, the Hediv empire took over that place” I deadpanned, cant believe she thought I was some sort of moron, "Its now called the Hediv empire, lady"
“No, it's just gone. Their fault for being morons, they decided to join all of the balkan and Middle Eastern countries together. The Balkans lasted a whopping 30 minutes before a war broke out.”
Before I could even say anything she added “At least the middle east held out longer, it was a whole 4 hours before war broke out there”
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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”
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juz088p
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juyqoah
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[WP] You're the first test subject for an experimental super soldier serum. You are told the truth only after you transform into something not quite human anymore.
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I was wrong.
My body felt fundamentally wrong. I don’t know what they did, but it wasn’t what I signed up for. I was supposed to be here for a few blood tests, some small genetic research for some gene abnormality I had. I thought they were giving me some local anesthetic.
Whatever they had done to me was strange. I was suddenly uncomfortable in my own skin. Colors were much brighter and sounds were much louder.
I looked down at my body. My clothes were all the same. Looking at my shirt now I had never noticed that one stain at the bottom. I could feel each of the shirts fibers against myself. I didn’t like the feeling.
I then counted my fingers. Two pinkies, middles, indexes, rings……
Where were my thumbs?
Suddenly my head exploded in pain. I dropped to the floor only vaguely aware of a figure in a white coat scurrying into the room. There was something in his hand. I tried to look at him, but the lights were all a bit too bright now. I squeezed my eyes shut. The light was starting to hurt. It started to burn.
I didn’t understand, I just wanted to know what was going on. I asked them, the one in the room with me. I looked up with blurred vision and attempted to speak but my tongue felt off. Suddenly I realized i couldn’t open my mouth. I wanted to know what was happening, what they did to me, why I was feeling like this. A gasp rang out from the figure I know know to be a woman.
“How can it speak with no mouth?” I was speechless. I may not have told them my pronouns but I damn sure knew they had my medical records. Why was this woman calling me an it.
The pain had lessened during this little exchange but suddenly it was back full force. I clenched my jaw and shut my eyes. My forehead felt like it was splitting in two. The pain got worse and worse and worse…
Until it got better.
I opened my eyes and I could feel the skin of my forehead splitting open. I turned to look at where i last saw the woman, but she had since fainted. Phantom pains traveled through my body in waves but i dragged myself over to her. My body had never felt so heavy before.
She was still breathing. I could hear her heartbeat from where i was sitting and it was normal, a little accelerated but nothing she had to worry about. Then i saw the clipboard.
I grabbed it from the floor. Just when had my arm gotten so long? My name was listed over the top of the page, the rest of it was gibberish about some soldier serum 1 trials. That couldn’t be true. Stuff like that only happens in the movies. What had these people done to me.
As i read further I realized that they were serious. That gene abnormality I had was supposed to do something for the tests they were conducting but obviously its not going well. I got to the last. Page and froze.
Splashed across the last page were observations about my behavior. Unpredictable, extreme growth, receded thumbs were all scattered across the page. At the bottom of the page I saw it. Two checkboxes, one labeled success and the other labeled exterminate.
Exterminate was checked but a note was handwritten at the bottom, ‘keep for further testing’.
They wanted to kill me?
They wanted me dead?
I looked up desperately, searching for anyone else to speak to about this. I wanted them to tell me it was a lie. I didn’t want to die, I didn’t want any of this. I was angry, utterly enraged at the notion.
Did they think they could just get rid of me?
Did they think that this was gonna be easy?
Did they think that I would not fight?
They can’t kill me, I wasn’t going to let them. I guess now we’ll see just who gets exterminated.
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I stared at my reflection in horror, unable to come to terms with what I had become. My body was now a grotesque amalgamation of tentacles, pulsating tendrils, and unrecognizable squid-like features. The once familiar image in the mirror had transformed into a nightmarish Lovecraftian creature. As the madness took hold, the reflection seemed to taunt me, its misshapen form a stark reminder of the monstrosity I had become. The sight of my twisted visage sent shivers down my spine, and I recoiled in repulsion.
The whispers in my mind grew louder, mingling with the demented laughter that echoed in the labyrinth of my thoughts. They told me to embrace the darkness, to revel in my newfound power. The tentacles that adorned my body writhed, yearning to wreak havoc and unleash unimaginable terror upon the world.
I heeded their call, my mind twisted and broken. In a frenzy, I burst out of the confines of the laboratory, my grotesque form leaving a trail of destruction in my wake. The tendrils that sprouted from my back lashed out, shredding everything in sight. I no longer recognized friend from foe, consumed by the maddening hunger for chaos.
The city streets turned into a twisted maze as I danced through the chaos like a demented marionette. Buildings crumbled, their foundations crushed under the weight of my monstrous wrath. The very fabric of reality seemed to bend at my command, warping under the weight of my delusions.But amidst the chaos, flickers of self-awareness broke through the madness. Like brief moments of lucidity, I caught glimpses of the destruction I had wrought. Innocent lives lost, families torn apart. The horror I had become brought me no satisfaction, only a deepening sense of despair.
As the military closed in, their weapons trained on me, I realized that there was no escape from the darkness within. The pulsating tendrils wriggled beneath my skin, urging me to fight, to resist capture no matter the cost. With a feral cry, I launched myself at the soldiers, each tentacle a weapon of destruction. The gunfire rang out, tearing through my flesh, but I pressed on, driven by a deranged determination to unleash chaos until my dying breath.
In the end, I collapsed, a broken mass upon the blood-soaked earth. The city smoldered behind me, testament to the havoc I had wreaked. But as the darkness consumed me, a flicker of remorse emerged from the depths of my shattered mind. I had become the very embodiment of destruction, an abomination caught between human aspiration and unfathomable madness.
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j44av35
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j43tyew
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[WP] In this world healers, while respected, are often looked down upon due to their limited offensive capabilities. One day your party is completely wiped out, and the world finds out just how dangerous knowledge of human anatomy can be.
|
The young monk knelt in front of his attackers, not because he had surrendered, but because he was too injured to fully stand.
The mage was crumpled next to him, her robes gradually turning crimson from the inside out. The mighty barbarian was inching towards her, knees dragging, breath failing due to all the broken ribs. The paladin was out cold. If he ever came to again, his career was likely over, even if he was lucky enough to even able to speak words ever again.
The monk was only glad his mother wasn't alive to see him in this sorry state. She never wanted him to be a hero. Heroes die early. At the end of the day, her own sacrifice had proven her right. And yet, instead of heeding common sense, instead of listening to her and learning from her mistakes, he had followed in her footsteps, *with gusto*. Humans were stupid like that.
That's probably why they were a dying race.
The Dark Khan's Force Commander stood before them, sneering just enough to expose his left fang. He was not impressed.
"I was hoping for more." The Commander kicked the monk in the side of the head, knocking him into the mud. It wasn't even that painful. The Commander hadn't wasted his breath.
As he tried to stand back up, he got one last look at his down party. Right now he didn't have the mana to heal a paper cut, let alone raise them back up.
*I didn't think it was going to end this way.*
...
His mother hadn't actually taught him the secret, but he was such a bookworm in his youth that he had managed to piece it together anyways. It wasn't hard really. Adrenaline, relaxation, and a severe disregard for one's life were all it took. A very small spark of mana had to be applied to a specific portion of the brain. The runes needed to be tattooed into the flesh in advance, but they were surprisingly simple and easy to hide. That's what it came down really: subtlety. The slightest changes in the right spots could turn the human body into an engine of destruction, but only for a little while. Then, once the spell wore off, the debt would be paid.
That is why, when the Dark Khan came for their family, he was the only survivor, not her.
...
"Sorry, mom." He whispered to himself.
The Commander chuckled. "Interesting last words. Don't fret child." He drew his sword. "You'll be reunited with her soon."
The monk didn't acknowledge him. He just kept staring at his friends, the closest thing to family he had left.
Maybe it wasn't quite how she felt that day. But, hopefully it was close enough.
Hot steam began to rise from his back, arms, and hair. The commander raised an eyebrow and took a step back as the mud around the young monk began to boil.
"What magic is this?"
The boy took solace. He always imagined that his mother's final moments were excruciatingly painful but... this actually felt kind of good.
Realizing that any further hesitation would endanger his party, the Force Commander lunged forward with his sword, aiming for a quick decapitation.
CRACK!!
But he was too late. In just one second, the brazen boy was standing erect, posed several steps *behind* the Force Commander, his arm outstretched and fingers straight.
The Force Commander hadn't even finished kneeling, nor had his head hit the ground yet, before the doomed monk fell upon the Khans. He'd be the last thing most of them saw, though many of them would just see afterimages.
As for the monk's adopted family, they would live.
And to him, that was all that mattered.
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Doctor Julian Shephard watched as one of the men who ambushed his groups wagon fought for air. His blood spilled onto the bright green grass under him. Julian's traveling companions were tied up, but they hadn't bothered to do the same to him due to the cross patch he wore indicating he was a doctor.
The dead mans voice was hoarse and weak, "help me." He looked at his comrades. One man was trying to stop the bleeding, but to no avail. Two others were crouched near and looking intently, but the other four
off to the side weren't interested in the soon-to-be dead man.
Julian wondered why he should help this man. It was likely the bandits would throw them all into the river anyways. He thought for a moment of his oaths: every life is precious, do no harm.
"He has a severed brachial artery. A tourniquet will need to be carefully applied," Julian said. All seven bandits looked at him. "Let me get my bag and I will do it." He hurried to the cart near the road and retrieved his doctors bag.
He put the tourniquet around the mans arm, above the laceration. As he was cinching the tourniquet he had to remind himself that this was just another man. Maybe a husband, father, brother, or son. Julian didn't know his story.
"He will still need a doctor, but this buys you a couple of hours." Julian said.
One of the four bandits who didn't seem interested in the dying man said, "Alright boys, throw these poor souls into the river and lets move on."
"Hold on a second, I'm not throwing that doctor into the river," another said and a fight broke out with three on one side, four on another. Swords clashed and knives were slashed wildly. In the end, the group defending the doctor were left alive, the other four dead.
"Thank you," the injured man managed to whisper. The remaining bandits looked at their swords and their former comrades dead on the ground.
"So pointless. You have the power over life and death, yet we are but brutes who only kill. For what? All we do is bring death into this world. Pointless." The seven bandits dropped their swords and started burying their former comrades. When they finished and left, the swords remained there in the grassy ditch.
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j69prgi
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j69fcb9
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[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."
|
Belthas heard the roar from inside the tower. He hurried over to the window to see his dragon friend flying in a massive arc over the city. Down below he could see people fleeing in every direction.
Guards dropped their weapons and ran for cover in a panicked frenzy. Families shut every window and door to their homes.
He knew he should pity them, but his heart filled with joy at the spectacle. Tears filled his eyes as a dozen more dragons, of all different sizes, filled the sky. Maegor, their leader, slowly descended onto the city's front gate. Behind him, the other dragons landed.
"Hear me citizens of Kerak." Maegor bellowed. "Release my human, and we will leave you all in peace. Do not, and I will reduce your walls to rubble and free them myself." Maegor roared once more and the other dragons joined him. The very earth shook and Belthas was forced to cover his ears.
"What say you?" Maegor bellowed. An eerie silence followed.
"Maegor!" Belthas cried out. "Maegor I'm here!" Belthas heard footsteps in the tower. He turned just in time to see the city's mayor, Rorath, peer through the vision slit of his door.
"I knew I shouldn't have trusted you," Rorath growled "What devilry possessed you to take up with them? Against your own kind and kin!"
"They are my friends, brother." Belthas said calmly.
"Until their stomachs are empty, like your head." Keys rattled and clanked, and the heavy bolt for the door was undone with a loud thunk. The hinges of the door whined as it opened. Rorath stood menacingly, glowering at Belthas. "Go. Go be with your *friends*."
Slowly, Belthas began to walk towards the door. Rorath's eyes followed him all the while. Meekly he squeezed past Rorath. In a flash, Rorath's dagger was out of its sheath and in his hands.
Belthas flinched and froze with fear.
"I said GO!" Rorath belted. "Go before I cut your throat!"
Belthas turned and ran as fast as he could down the winding staircase. He nearly fell but caught himself on the wall. By the time he reached the bottom, he was out of breath. Briskly he made his way through the castle, hateful stares following him through every hall and corridor.
"Traitor." murmured a young girl. "Coward." said an elderly man. "Worm." an elderly lady spat. Finally, he reached the main gate of the inner castle. All that was left to do was cross the drawbridge over the moat, and then it was a straight shot to the main castle's gate. There, atop the parapets, stood Maegor. The city walls were nearly ten meters high, and Maegor made them look small. Under his massive talons, the stones crumbled and cracked.
When Maegor saw Belthas, he let out a small roar. Small for Maegor, at least. Maegor's tail flicked and he shifted eagerly on the wall. The stone towers on either side of the gate crumbled under the shifting weight, and clumsily Maegor stumbled down onto the main street.
Belthas broke out into a sprint towards Maegor, and Maegor dropped his massive head down to meet his embrace. Maegor's head and neck covered nearly half the distance. Belthas barely slowed down before colliding with Maegor's nose.
"Friend." Belthas said tearily. Maegor let out a sigh and Belthas was surrounded by the hot air. It didn't bother him in the slightest. Belthas stepped back to look at his friend. Maegor slowly opened his mouth and his massive tongue gently pressed against Belthas' face. Belthas giggled as he leaned into the tongue, so as not to be knocked off his feet.
Maegor dropped his head and tilted it for Belthas to climb on. When Belthas was halfway up, Maegor flicked his head to help Belthas up the rest of the way. "The others have missed you." Maegor said softly. "And so have I."
Belthas, laying flat, squeezed the scales he was holding onto just a little tighter. Maegor lept over the gate wall, spread his wings, and with a running start, the pair took off into the sky.
|
Old Hogan was the one who found them, huddled and scared on the side of the Laneway heading into town. Poor Hogan was heading back from his favorite pub when he happened upon the wretched thing, cold and weak from exposure.
I was asleep, having stoked the fires of the Maesters rooms and ensuring all the doors and windows were locked when Hogan barged into my room.
"Yoan, we have a problem!"
Hogan half whispered, half murmured as my door banged open. I shot out of bed, the twilight of sleep washed away by the rude surprise. Clothed in nothing but my gracious skin, Hogan promptly turned around and closed the door before then knocking politely...before opening the door and stating again;
"Yoan! We have a problem and sorry I didn't knock."
Still naked, I began to dress and question Hogan about the problem 'we' had. Since I was asleep, in my room, and couldn't fathom what could be the problem I assumed that Hogan was just drunk and confused.
"Ok, Hogan. Explain to me 'our' problem so I can fix it. Did you beat a wench at the pub again? I have only so much coin to spare for your shenanigans."
Hogan huffed at me as I said this, shaking his head.
"Naw, Yoan, its na' that. At all. I have plenty of coin myself to pay a Death tax. Naw, 'tis here is something worse. It's a human, and its Branded."
I was listening to Hogan half heartedly, absent-mindedly dressing myself. I had slipped a few golden Dakas into my pocket as he spoke, smiling at the sheer absurdity at Hogans words. It was the tinkling of the gold in my pocket, the rattle of the silver candlestick as I bumped into my nightstand on the way out of my room when Hogans words dawned on me.
"Branded?" I croaked out, freezing as I crossed the threshold of my bedroom.
Hogan had his beat up hat in his hands, staring at me with almost tears in his eyes. The single candle he held sputtered and died. I took a sharp breath, trying to slow the sudden rise in my heartrate. Humans were like vermin to the Horken and Dyads, who viewed Terragia as sacred. The Humans, they spread like a disease across the vast continents of Terragia since their arrival via the Heavens thousands of years ago. They dug and burned and built, destroying to support their society and people. Hogan, poor Hobbled Hogan was wounded by one of them during The War.
"Where is this Branded human, Hogan? What trouble have you brought home at this time of night?"
Hogan nodded and just turned and headed up the dark hallway of the Servant Quarters. I heard him begin to thump up the stairs into the Hall of the Maesterium, as I dutifully followed him toward this Human he was speaking of. In a way, I was excited. In another, I knew deep down there was trouble coming.
Only Drogons branded anything, and only Drogons scared the Maesters.
|
lfaiqxw
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lfahqhq
|
[WP] You're living your life, then suddenly you wake up, sweating, in a dark room on a cold stone bed. Your entire life was just a fever dream from some unknown illness. As you come to grips with this reality, the slat on your cell door opens, and a voice shouts, "Sir, we've got a live one in here!"
|
"Are you sure you'll be alright with him?" Cordelie's aunt asked her, voice dripping with concern.
"I'm sure, Auntie. We'll be alright, enjoy your date, you deserve it." They kissed each other on the cheek and her aunt couldn't contain her excitement any longer, grabbing her purse and darting out the door to the carriage waiting for her outside. *That one's a firecracker*, Cordelie thought to herself, *can't believe she caught the eye of an adventurer.*
Cordelie turned to her grandfather, in his favorite rocking chair, smoking a pipe and staring out the window. She studied his face, part of which sagged a bit more than the rest, and wondered what tales those silent eyes saw. Her eyes fell to the scar on his arm, and wondered how it came to be. His adventuring career had been cut short by a tragic stroke, and robbed him of his ability to speak. Her heart broke for him.
She sat next to him with a book, searching for a story to read to him, as she so often did.
"I've got a new collection of stories, pops, from Auntie's new boyfriend. What story do you want to hear? The Fall of Nix, the Archmage's Ascension, or the Lost Power of Oralla?" She searched his face for some sign of inclination, but found none. "The Lost Power of Oralla it is."
"*Many have searched for Oralla's Boon, a blessing of power given by Oralla to her chosen disciple some 200 years ago.*" Cordelie began. "*However, none have ever found it."*
"Drivel."
Cordelie's voice caught in her throat as she lost her place in the book. She looked to her grandfather, wondering if her ears deceived her. *A moment of madness* she concluded.
"*Oralla's Boon has been speculated to be an object of some sort, though whether it took the form of a sword, mace, bow, or something else, scholars disagree.*"
"Balderdash."
"Pops! Pops, did you just speak?" She dropped the book in her haste to get up, searching his eyes desperately. "What's balderdash, pa?"
For the first time in her life, her grandpa looked her in the eye.
"The nonsense you were reading. They haven't a clue what they speak of."
"Oralla's Boon? What do you mean? What do you know?"
"Sit down, girl. We've a lot to catch up on before your Aunt gets back. If she knows I can speak I'll never know peace again."
Cordelie sat in awe as her grandfather spilled histories of his adventures. Shadows grew long and yet her interest only waxed. They were interrupted by the sound of the carriage pulling out front. Cordelie's grandfather looked warily out the window.
"We must stop now, child."
"Pops, what about Oralla's Boon? You spoke of so much, but still haven't explained what was wrong about it." Cordelie said in an urgent whisper. She saw conflict in his eyes, then resolve.
"I have it." He grabbed her arm, his grip deceptively strong. "And now it's yours." His grip turned ice cold, yet gave off an almost burning sensation. She watched the scar on his arm begin to fade, and an identical scar appear on hers. "You'll bear it well, I know." His grip grew weak in a matter of seconds. She snapped her head toward the window, watched her aunt say goodbye to her boyfriend and panicked.
"What is this? Why stay silent? I still have so many questions." Even as she spoke she could see the light in his eyes fading.
"You must protect this boon, none can learn of it." His voice faded to less than a whisper as his eyes lost their focus.
The door burst open, and her aunt danced in to the house. Her elation immediately drained as she took in the scene before her.
"Is he.. is he-?"
|
Emily's day started weird when a fairy flew out of her bag and spoke about "going through the tutorial". It got even more bizarre when her mobile phone had a new app called "Hero Quest" she never downloaded and had several new notifications about a very long task list.
When the family butler ushered her into the master bedroom where Grandpa always slept in after his stroke, then chased everyone out. Emily stopped being surprised.
"Finally, let's get started."
"Tell me all about it," she crossed her arms and stared directly into his eyes.
"Ah, seems like you already know," he chuckled. "I guess its time I stopped pretending to be your old man, and start acting like your destined mentor."
Emily loaded the Hero Quest app and showed it to him. "These stats, all these tasks and quests, explain them."
"I have been waiting for you to awaken," he smiled. "The Main Character Syndrome virus within you has hibernated longer than usual. It usually awakes when the carrier is a child, or teenager, but its never too late to embark on your isekai."
"I'm not even a guy," she shot back. "Don't these isekai things prefer young boys?"
"Eh...times are changing," Grandpa, or whoever he is right now, said. "The Watchers demand for a strong female protagonist. You are tall, slender, and blonde. They'd love your type. Meanwhile, I have been lying dormant myself all this time due to Mentor Occupational Hazards. Gotta lay low to avoid being killed before you're ready. Before I teach you everything you need to know. Now, it is time you learn of your destiny."
"So...this task list on the app, its like a RPG quest list?"
He nodded. "You're catching on well. As expected of a Main Character, and one that has been playing RPGs before your destiny began shining. I think you know which one to start with."
"I finished that one," Emily replied. "The one that insisted I talk to my fairy assistant and slog through the stupid tutorial."
"I take it you completed the tutorial then?"
"Yes."
"Next step is killing those bears and getting them twenty bearskins to you? I thought times are changing? What is with these old-fashioned fetch quests again?"
The old man laughed heartily and patted her on the back. "Ahh, some things don't ever change."
----
[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/)
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jejquak
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jej7im9
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[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?"
|
"Did you tell her you were going to be here?"
"Of course I did. She made sure that I didn't go to Alyssa's place whatsoever!"
Well, this was going well. Obviously Jack couldn't keep it in his pants and ended up cheating on his girlfriend, which was bad enough, but this was Aishala, the goddess known as the Faceted Creator. She was a goddess of love, war, wealth, food and drink, indulgence...everything you could think about. Of course, she wasn't all-knowing, so there was that. As for how to calm her down...
"Did you tell her you were going out?" To my surprise, he nodded.
"Yes, to visit you. She didn't say anything, she just closed the bedroom door in my face."
"Closed? You mean closed as in not slammed?" I didn't believe she would be that gentle.
"Yes. She just seemed disappointed in me."
"Then talk to her."
Later, Jack returned home to his girlfriend.
"Jack, we need to talk. Come upstairs."
After he took his shoes off, he went upstairs, sitting on the bed. Aishala, who was already on the bed, turned towards him, putting her hand on his shoulder.
"Jack, first and foremost, I just want to say I forgive you. I understand it was a lapse of judgement, however I want you to think about what happened last night. What do you remember?" she asked him, calmly.
Jack was surprised, however he didn't say anything. He thought about what happened that night. He remembered a few things, however there were some fuzzy spots.
"I just remember I was at a house party, getting drunk. It was some sort of get-together with lots of alcohol, pizza, maybe a few other snacks. Aside from that, I remember a girl, Alyssa, leading me upstairs to chat a bit. We just ate together, watched some TV, and drank some beer before I washed up and went to sleep."
Aishala knew he wasn't lying. She had a feeling of dread growing in her chest, however she remained silent as he continued.
"When I first woke up, I was so tired I couldn't move, but I remember Alyssa unzipping my pants. I fell back asleep before waking up again, dressed, and curing my hangover before going home." He sighed, seeing Aishala tear up. "This was my fault. I'm sorry."
"This was never your fault." She pulled him into a tight, comforting hug as she sobbed. She had failed to protect him. Only now did he realize just what had happened. He didn't cheat on his girlfriend, but instead someone else took advantage of him. He hugged back, holding her close as he comforted her. Once he calmed her down, he asked her something he knew he had to ask.
"What should we do about Alyssa?"
Wiping away her tears, she looked at him.
"I don't think we should do anything to her except have her face justice, but I'm not going out. I think it should just be us staying together for a few nights."
"Agreed." He hugged her again, holding her close. She returned the cuddle, and they stayed like that until dinner.
|
"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.
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jxd5kuj
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jxctqmx
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[WP] The zombie apocalypse is here. The general public… actually has a better handle on it than the government does.
|
Ben nudged a zombie to one side with his poking stick – a sturdy pipe. It let out a low moan and gave him a half-hearted swipe.
He simply danced out of the way. “Sorry, not my type, lady.”
Another zombie tried to grab him, but it was similarly slow. It seemed like they hadn’t eaten in quite some time. He had plenty of time to slip a few packs of jerky into his bag before avoiding that one as well.
*Must be tough to be a zombie these days. Most people had watched too many zombie movies by the time of the outbreak. Only a handful of people turned after the first wave, and it’s starting to show.*
The zombies continued to shuffle toward him as he picked through the small grocery store. Plenty of looters had come through, yet there were still supplies hidden here and there. He rifled through the rubble a bit more with his poking stick before exiting the aisle.
“Any luck over there, Jimbo?”
A frizzled head poked out from several aisles down. “Got us some nice shirts. Idiots forgot it gets cold here in the winter. And a box of raisin bran. Someone probably dropped it on the way out.”
“Nice. I got us some protein. Jerky and beans. Snagged a few spices as well.” He shoved a zombie back before continuing toward Jimbo. “We should probably get going though. I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.”
“Yeah, I hear ya.”
They pushed their way out of the store. There was a distant snarl as they exited.
Ben squinted down the street. “Got a pouncer.”
“You catch, I kill?” Jimbo lowered his pack to the ground.
“Sounds good.” Ben did the same with his pack. “Watch the back. The ones in the store were a bit grabby. Might get some bright ideas.”
Jimbo glanced back into the store. “Yup. You focus on the mean one.”
Ben passed Jimbo his poking stick and braced himself. Predictably, the pouncer pushed his way through the meandering zombies, eager for flesh. Ben watched and raised his arm at the last second. The crazed zombie’s teeth closed on his arm with a clank. He barely felt the vibration through the metal links and leather wrapped around his arm.
“Gotcha!” Ben leaned into the bite, preventing the pouncer from escaping.
“Fore!” Jimbo swung with the poking stick.
Ben turned away to avoid the ensuing splatter. The pouncer twitched slightly before its jaws loosened.
Jimbo chuckled. “Metal bracer wins again.”
Ben wiped away the rest of the zombie gunk before picking up his pack. “You’d have thought the military would’ve learned such basic attack patterns by now.”
That only made Jimbo laugh harder. With the main threat out of the way, they made their way back to their hideout. Once the sun set, there was no more looting. That was a hard rule most people followed these days. Those who ignored that rule tended to end up as zombie food.
“How’s the generator?” Ben fiddled with their dim light source.
The lights in this apartment building were kept low at night. It prevented nearby zombies from getting too curious.
Jimbo continued organizing supplies. “Good enough. The main grid kicked on again, so we should charge things while we can tonight. Heard about it from the couple on the seventh floor.”
“Ooh. Lucky us.” Ben reached over and plugged a few devices into the wall socket. “TV?”
Jimbo nodded. “Of course. Be right back, going to make the security rounds for this floor.”
“Be careful.”
The door opened and closed. Ben turned on the old television set and began flipping through the channels. Most were static, but eventually, he found a live broadcast. The sound was low, but the apartment was quiet enough for him to hear.
Eventually, Jimbo returned and flopped onto the couch. “What’re we watching?”
“New acting Commander in Chief, I think. Last one didn’t last a week. He’s saying something about coming together in this time of need. How we need to shelter in place and wait for proper aid instead of going out there and risking our safety. The usual really.”
They watched the governmental broadcast for a bit.
Then, Jimbo asked, “Did they ever fix the loose hinges on the backdoor to that bunker?”
There were screams and gunshots in the distance. The speaker looked nervous but pushed on with his broadcast. Then, there was a crash as a mass of zombies stumbled past the camera. The speaker stumbled backward, fumbling for a weapon. But within a minute, no one was left alive in that room.
“Nope.”
“Shame.”
Jimbo stretched. “Welp, I’m gonna make some beans and crash for the night.”
Ben looked away from the carnage on the screen. “How were the locks and barricades for the floor?”
“Fine. Fixed one wobbly bolt, but otherwise, everything else was fine.”
“Sounds good. We’re scavenging in Northside tomorrow, right?”
“Yup.”
“Gotcha. I’ll wake you for shift change.”
“Thanks.”
As Jimbo wandered off into the small kitchen, Ben turned back to the television. It would likely be a few hours before the military reclaimed the broadcast bunker. Until then, the feed would remain pointed at the zombies feeding on the fresh corpses.
*I’m sure this is great for morale. I’m not sure they could’ve screwed up any worse than this.*
He changed the channel and got settled in for another night shift.
“Oh sweet! A Friends rerun.”
...
Went for zombie slice of life I guess?
If you're interested in my works, the archive of my various writing responses can be found in my writing portfolio, link through my profile. There's also an original story, The Crossroads.
Thanks for reading.
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A news anchor pulls his microphone close to his face. The cameras roll and he is set to the air- a young man, barely near his 30s with a mustache, stubble, brown eyes, and black hair with a red tie wrapped across the side of his head. He wears a patched up blue formal suit.
"It's day 217 of the people's apocalypse and I'm your host-- James Sherman! NOT BEN SHAPIRO WILL PEOPLE PLEASE STOP SAYING WE LOOK ALIKE-- anyways, as you probably know, the government has currently been at it's '30 hour strategy meeting' for the past 17 days now," James Sherman explains.
The camera man gives a thumbs up. A zombie down the street is filmed as a group of various fat and skinny men and boys with shotguns, and lead pipes, and bottled ships chase after it. The zombie slowly shuffles away, muttering something unintelligible as the people mercilessly hammer at its sunglasses.
"Uggghhh...Nooo...mhyyy...propherty! Pluhlease luheve me...aloohn-" the zombie mutters.
The camera quickly pans away as Sherman stares at the zombie.
"By the sacred roaches, they CAN speak! Oh man, mum isn't gonna believe this when she views her telly with her chips and tea-- anyways, since the government sought to end the 2nd amendment for all fellow Americans...", Sherman looks around for a moment before looking back at the camera, "...we had to look out for ourselves. For the people, am I right? The first few hours they locked us up and made us wear masks, but our brave middle aged mothers on survivor truth social out a stop to the federal government's meddling once and for all! Though they didn't stop the virus with those liquid tinfoil pills- not that I have personal experience with--"
A nearby car crashes into a building, speeding past in only the driver's half as it slowly stops next to Sherman like a taxi cab.
"Quick-- Sherman, there isn't much time! We must prevent the Anti-Zomboyz rights act of spanish-32 from being passed! I may be undead, but I'm still your great uncle on your mother's side! Whaddya say, huh?!" Uncle Zombie-Man asks.
Sherman looks into the camera. He breaks out into a sweat.
"Oh no...uh, who are you, eh he he..." He replies.
The camera man takes out a butcher's knife from his side pocket of his cargo shorts and moves near Uncle Zombie-Man.
Uncle Zombie-Man takes off his yellow rubber gloves and throws it at the camera man. The resulting mass of roaches nibble the cleaver to a wooden handle.
The camera man screams and attempts to punch Uncle Zombie-Man. Sherman stops him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, man, we need to seriously get out of her. Prep the van and get going. If I'm not back, send my letter to me mum, got it?" Sherman asks.
The camera man looks confused.
"But I can take this monster down! Why not--"
Uncle Zombie-Man takes out a burning brief case from his half-car trunk and opens it.
"How's 1 million sound? Or a Billion? The bank payed a small fortune to get rid of me, so I can pay anything under 3 billion," Uncle Zombie-Man offers.
The camera man casts a meaty red glare his way. He strokes his mustache and goatee for a minute.
"Two and a half million. I'm not falling for your scam, and my survivor buckz are worth nada, amigo," he replies.
"I can do that," Uncle Zombie-Man counts the money.
With the money exchanged, the camera man loads up a white news van with a satellite on top. He speeds off.
Now that he can think, Sherman can tell that something isn't right-- people harass zombies that don't eat their brains like the movies, heck, even his great uncle who died 40 years ago came back like it's just another day in his life! The whole burning society, urban survival thing feels more like a pseudo survival aesthetic right now...
"I was wrong-- SO WRONG-- about everything. How can I help, uncle?" Sherman asks.
Uncle Zombie-Man puts on his chefs hat and straps on his high visibility construction vest over his formal mime suit.
"Like I said, we stop the passage of the Anti-Zomboyz rights act of Spanish-32. Follow me!" Uncle Zombie-Man races to the steps of a nearby business.
"No, wait, the city capitol is that way!" Sherman yells.
He races after his uncle.
A computer screen shows a gps location- Florida, USA. Status: average Tuesday. Deploying local military beer expert troops to neutralize threats for the next week.
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j3cathe
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j3auu38
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[WP] Aphrodite is talking to Ares. "Y'know, Persephone gives Hades flowers everyday. I wish you'd do that." The next day, Ares goes to the Underworld and gives Hades flowers. "Yeah, I'm not really sure why Aphrodite wanted me to do this, but here you go."
|
“What not-on-earth has happened here?” said Dionysus, surveying the Underworld. He had expected to bring the party to the grey void but was instead presented with vast swathes of colourful life.
“It’s all your brother’s fault!” raged Hades, emerging from behind a particularly large sunflower. His throne was surrounded by pots and flowers of every variety found on earth.
“For some reason he gave me an enormous bunch of flowers and it seems that word got around and now…” he waved his hands towards the line of recently arrived dead being processed after crossing the Styx. More than half were carrying floral tributes.
“Ares and Aphrodite are waging botanical warfare on my realm…”
*Flower power*, Dionysus thought but, wisely, kept to himself.
“…Charon wants a bigger boat and Cerberus has hayfever!”
“What does your wife think?”
On cue, Persephone swept into the throne room humming happily. She scooped up as many more bunches of flowers as she could and skipped towards their living quarters.
Dionysus roared with laughter, thumped Hades on the back and swayed slightly.
“Don’t worry, uncle,” he replied, failing to maintain a straight face. “I didn’t care for this fermented grape juice at first but I grew to love it.” He took a large swig of his flagon of wine, dripping red juice into his beard.
Hades paused, looking around the array of colours and taking in the scents. He felt his iron will bend slightly.
\-----
The gardens of the Underworld became renowned and are regularly visited by all but one of the Olympians. However, be careful not to mention them to Aphrodite as she will fly into a jealous rage.
Mortal souls close to the journey to the Underworld now look forward with hope as they will soon see the most beautiful gardens in all existence.
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Hades:out of curiosity nephew, how did that conversation go?
Persephone:*currently rolling on The floor while ares explains*
Hades:it was a Mather if syntaxis i see. *Grabs some flowers given to him by his wife*,dear is it okay if I send ares with these?
Persephone:* makes an approval gesture with a hand while recovering from laughter*
Hades:next time try to ask for clarification just in case.
Ares: i will never gonna live this down, am I?
Hades: you can die this down but that is a different circumstance
Ares:... You wanted to make that joke A long time ago dint you
Hades:*smug expression* you would be surprised he w often I get the chance
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j30z3sn
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j30sunl
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[WP] A regular and oblivious person works at a coffee shop not knowing its a place of ceasefire for assassins and mercenaries.
|
"...so did you take the job? I would- oh, hello!" the man before me said as he and his friend finally approached the counter. "I'll have a... caramel latté and my friend here will have an espresso, thank you."
"Right away, sir," I smiled and started preparing both beverages. Still, despite not wanting to, I couldn't help but overhear the conversation the two gentlemen were having.
"...I mean, a job's a job, right? It didn't go past any limits, so yeah, I took the shot just as he was getting out of the tub," the man's friend said.
*Must be a photographer*, I thought to myself. *Perhaps an artistic display of a well-sculpted man getting out of the bathtub?*
"Was it clean? I always find it messy when they're wet."
"Within limits."
"Here you are, gentlemen," I said and handed the men their coffees. They smiled politely, paid, and went to sit at a nearby table. I smiled back just as a new customer came in.
It was a woman wearing a tight body suit with some sort of... thick vest and a plethora of belts and holsters. She was covered in firearms - two on her hips, two by her ankles and a large rifle on her back. Several knives on her hips provided a lovely silvery contrast to her overall attire.
I wonder who she was cosplaying. Either way, good job - looked very authentic.
"Lady DeathKill!" the man with the espresso gasped. "You've some nerve showing your mug here after what happened in Budapest."
"The contract was open, Olivier. You may have had them in your arms, but that doesn't exclude me from getting the job done first," she growled back.
"I was about to mow them down! You nearly took my ear off!"
*That man is very well dressed for a gardener,* I thought.
"*Nearly,*" the woman said.
*Wonder what that was about.*
The two exchanged angry looks before the woman decided to take the higher road and simply walk towards the counter.
"Hello!" I said cheerily. Her disposition softened and she managed a weak smile back.
"Hi. I'll have a... hmm..." She put her hand below her chin as she stared at the menu.
"Perhaps I can make a recommendation?" I offered. "The chai latté is especially delicious. A good amount of spice and bite, if you're feeling adventurous."
"You know," she said, "it might be a good start to my day. Get me in the mood for my work."
"Right away. I do wish you good luck at your work, if I may say so."
"Nice of you to say," she chuckled, "but at this point in my career, I'm past needing luck. I got the guns, the knives, all that's left is the shooting. Done it a hundred times."
"Oh," I said and turned to make her coffee.
*She's a model!* I thought, glad to finally understand the situation.
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"Mocha frap for... Dadshorts!"
The folks all look at each other, but no one moves, meaning Ethel butchered another name. I stare at it, trying to guess what it's supposed to be.
"Listen, I got a small mocha frap," I call again before leaving it on the counter. As two men, both with bionic eyes, approach the drink and start debating whose it may be, I debate taking over the till, but the only thing that girl wrecks worse than names is the drinks.
I start on a jalapeño-caramel iced latte as I hear the bionic eyes started to argue. I turn to tell Ethel to help sort it, but she's gone. Another "cigarette" break, most likely. Unfortunately, it's a moot point anyway, I can tell the men are escalated to far for her skills. Which isn't really saying much, but I've already abandoned the drink.
"What’s pro—" An explosion is ripping across the counter and sending shrapnel at me. I consider ducking behind... something, but that moment already makes it too late. I'm going to do over a lame coffee. Only, I don't die. Ethel has reversed the explosion, restoring the counter and saving us all. I stand stunned for a moment when she reaches out and touches my temple and suddenly...
Suddenly... something... Who... What was I doing? Right, jalapeño-caramel. Thankfully, when I turn around, the mocha frap and the weird men are gone. Guess they sorted it out. I coulda sworn they were fighting. Oh well, I read off the next cup, "Tarker!" I glare at Ethel when no one responds. Playing with her bubblegum, which she's not supposed to have at work! I swear, I have no idea why that girl hasn't been fired yet. Brings nothing to the job.
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mdydza7
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mdxyucd
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[WP] For three years you’ve had an uneventful marriage with your spouse when one day they become the Chosen One. Immediately setting off on their journey you don’t hear anything from them for five years. Then one day they reappear with a sheepish look on their face asking to speak to you.
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Embrace your destiny, for it awaits no one. Those were the words the Goddess laid upon the land when she called upon a new generation of saints and heroes to battle the dark of the world. It had been several decades already with the cities and towns living in fear under the rule of corrupt monarchs and the roads sieged by foul beasts and fiends.
The Goddess' call came for the oppressed to take up arms and reclaim their peace, and to help her cause, she also awakened ancient powers locked away within her chosen, and with them as her heralds, humanity began their counterattack.
Or at least, that's what the bards tell. I was never privy to the horrors firsthand, but I was content in taking upon the family business and help provide potions and supplies to those in need in my father's atelier, constantly preparing and shopping for the neighboring towns. Our own was peaceful, but it's people kind, so we did our best to help. Back then I thought that was my place in the world; I had no skill with the sword, let alone magic, but I had a loving family to help me through these tumultuous times.
And finally, with the last few heroes, the frontiers have finally been reclaimed in the last decade, the fiends finally forced back to their lairs on the far edges to the north of the continent. However, the battle is bloody, and even the mighty chosen of the Goddess still fall to this day.
Its still a miracle, really. The gratitude for the heroes is not misplaced, but there's still much to be done. Even with these brave heroes and their relentless efforts, there's still fighting to be had.
Which is why, I'm surprised to see the woman I once called my better half at my doorstep, having returned just as she left. When five years ago, she awakened to her abilities as a chosen of the Goddess, and left without so much a word.
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I sit in the corner of the local bar, one that I frequent often, almost hiding from the crowd behind today’s newspaper. I tune out the chattering of the bar, and read over the ad in the newspaper that I wrote to the paper. If destiny was on my side this afternoon, I will get the escape I’ve always dreamed of.
It’s funny, y’know, what they say. You don’t know what you have until you lose it. I had to learn that the hard way.
Then I saw her. My shoulders drop.
“Oh it’s you.” She says with a smile. I recognize that soft smile. We can’t help but laugh at the irony of the situation.
Finally, I said, “I never knew.”
“That you like pina coladas
And getting caught in the rain.”
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j83mvc9
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j839l14
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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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"Thanks but no thanks, I wouldn't dare run this shitty empire."
"Excuse me!?" a voice spoke from the audience. Wide-eyed politicians stared at the boy, barely an adult as he stood in the middle of the imperial court. Whispers from guards and juries could be heard across the court.
The boy could feel the bitter stares from some of the politicians, ready to shout slurs and insults for abandoning their "perfect empire"."I lived all my life impoverished in this god-forsaken empire, no financial benefit from any of you corrupt scums as I work *day and night just to make end's meat* ***and now you come here expecting me to help you rule!?***" the boy ranted, getting more furious as he spoke. By now the court had gone silent as they processed the boy's words.
"Nothing to say? I expected as much."
"B-But-"
"Maybe think of everyone suffering around you before you ask me to take charge,." the boy cut off who he presumed was the minister, a bewildered look on his face as the boy folded his arms, sighing to relieve any pent up anger he had from his rant.
"If there is nothing else, I hope you have a great day." the boy started walking towards the exit of the court, now filled with whispers louder than ever as he flipped a middle finger towards the minister and politicians who were now staring daggers at the boy.
The boy never felt this much ecstasy up until now. It felt good to walk away from the shitty government who caused millions to suffer in this empire. It wasn't his problem than and it wasn't his problem now.
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j6s7cbw
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j6rg79w
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[WP] Your super power has no destructive power, but you're still a highly ranked superhero. *Time Out* puts your opponent into a safe quiet place to reflect on their actions before returning them back the to the same spot and time, they left.
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I begged him to kill me instead of using his powers.
I was making a getaway after stealing a carton of eggs from a local grocery store. A new superhero chased me down and wrestled me into a tangle mess of zip-ties. He sat me against a brick wall in a dark alleyway.
"There's a small knife in my boot. Use it slowly for all I care," I said.
He knelt beside me. The man known as Mr. Moser wore a suit that could have been on the front page of a men's fashion magazine.
"I don't serve my own version of justice like the vigilantes in Vannopolis. The city's court system gets the honor to name the crime and punishment. What I do is assign a little moment for criminals to think about the bad choices they've made."
"You just described jail! Please, let me go to jail peacefully!"
I looked down at his hands; black leather gloves covered them. I've heard if he touches someone's forehead with his bare hands the victim falls into a trance.
"Do you even know where you send people?" I asked.
He shrugged. "I send their consciousness to a place I call Time Out for ten minutes. Afterwards, they come out of it calm and compliable."
"But have you ever been to Time Out?"
He firmly shook his head. "Nope. Wouldn't know how to get there. And why should I go? I'm not the one stealing eggs during a recession."
I drew a deep breath and tried to relax. Perhaps if he knew the stories I've heard about Time Out, he'd hesitate long enough for the cops to arrive and take me away.
"I shouldn't have stolen. Like you said, the city is in a recession, and I figured a dozen boiled eggs can provide me some breakfast for over a week. With that said, can we agree that I'm complying? Will you let me speak for a second?"
He nodded; I continued.
"I haven't been sent to time out since my early grade school days. I understand your rationality sending criminals to your own time out. But others say yours differ from sitting in the corner of a school room."
Mr. Moser smiled. "Oh really? How so?"
"I've only heard anecdotal stories, but no one ever comes out of your Time Out the same."
"That's the point."
"Understandable, but whatever you're doing is too much. People come out of Time Out broken -- nothing more than a shell of their former self."
Mr. Moser looked up at the light polluted night sky when he heard cop sirens off in the distance. He cleared his throat.
"You know, you dropped the egg carton you were carrying during our little chase. And a bit of egg yolk splashed on my..."
He removed a glove to show a skinless hand. He pointed a boney finger wrapped in muscle, nerves, and tendons towards his boots.
"Sorry son, but if you don't go to Time Out for stealing the eggs, you're going for making a mess."
I screamed as his body horror of a hand spread its palm wider than a dinner plate.
"Hush. I'll only send you there for two minutes. The cops should be here afterwards," he said and covered my face with his skinless hand.
\----------
Everything faded to white. Pale white. I still sat like I did in the alley way; my wrists still zip-tied behind my back.
I tried to stand but my head hit an invisible ceiling. I tried to roll on my side, but a wall kept me seated in my uncomfortable slouched posture. It was as if I was trapped inside an egg barely large enough to house me.
"Two minutes," I said to myself. "I can do this for two minutes."
I waited, but nothing changed.
I counted to 120 multiple times.
"Hey! You said I'd be out by now!" I screamed in the vacant space.
No one responded.
*Maybe this is like a dream world. Where time passes differently than reality*. I thought. *Moser will pull me out of Time Out and only two actual minutes will have passed.*
I tried to lean my head forward, but a pure white barrier kept it from moving an inch.
\----------- ----------
I'm still here.
​
# Thanks for reading! /r/VegaVisions for more stories.
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Leon hit the replay button on his player again. Was a mistake bringing only one disk for a drive here, in the middle of the desert.
His old Toyota, a gift from the government of Sapporo, was whining about the quality of the road, the heat and probably the smell of a blue superhero costume in the bag on the backseat. Still, Leon was determined to meet his grandfather.
It's a rarely known fact that the underdog antihero of the 60's "Deathtouch" is blood related to the new and popular "Time Out". Leon knew, but didnt knew they had the same ability, not until the latest researches in unearthly people shown that superpowers are inheritable, and can't change in effects unless there is another super in the family. There wasn't, in Leon's case.
Leon pulled over from a highway onto a gravel road, to the Toyota's growing displeasure. Now he had only his vague childhood memories to show him the way.
Near a tilted house he found an old man. Leon greeted him, they hugged shared a few tears and then started to tell each other stories. Leon already knew all the tales an old man had to tell, but now he had many of his own. He couldn't get those heavy words out of his mind. They laughed, but it wasn't until dusk, when they were sharing beer, when he finally brought himself to say them.
"Why did you choose to kill them? Time out can put away people for any period - minutes, days, weeks. Time out allowed me to change them, make them reflect, doubt their actions. They always came back changed. But you chose to put then away for centuries, didn't. When they came back... they were just dead from old age"
Old man sighed, as if he was expecting this question: "Leon, I''ll tell you how I see it, and you don't have to agree. When I started doing this, this superhero gig, my wife was pregnant with your father. Whenever a villain came back from time out, they would always talk about how they were changed. How they were never going to do this again. But that villain - he picked up a gun, or whatever sci-fi bullshit they had for a weapon, they picked it up and pointed it at another person. What if they would make that choice again? What if this time it will be pointed at me, or my wife, or my kid?".
The old man sipped from his beer, holding up his hand when Leon tried to argue something: "Seeing you do it. Taking that risk. Every day, without regrets. Makes me believe in humanity a little bit more. But in case if any of them lie to you. Try to hurt someone you love." The old man crushed a can in his hand "I packed up the Deathtouch costume in your trunk"
Leon wanted to say something, but stopped himself: "If I say no, will you send me into time out?". "Sure will, kid" the old man smiled, kicking his crushed can. "Then I'll take, just in case" - Leon said, walking back to his Toyota. "Take care of yourself, grandpa"
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jg2l47r
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jg2f5mk
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[WP] you thought feeding that Skinwalker some barbecue was fine maybe she would stop eating human flesh. but it seems she had spread the word and now all different types of monsters are at your door hungry.
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How does one create a restaurant business and become an overnight success in a notoriously competitive and overcrowded F&B industry? I guess I did it by not being picky about who I'm feeding.
It all started when I had a barbecue party in the woods with some friends, when a Skinwalker suddenly ambushed us from thick shrubbery. While everyone made futile attempts to pull the Skinwalker away from Brad, I wrapped up the barbecued lamb rack with aluminum foil and presented it to the Skinwalker, in hopes the fragrant smell would entice it to leave Brad alone.
My lamb rack was graciously accepted by the Skinwalker who asked to keep in contact.
At first, I thought I was getting doxed when my phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Until I heard a knock on my door to find a werewolf asking me for a barbecued lamb rack. The werewolf asked me if I had an Etsy or a restaurant he could go to, he heard from a skinwalker I made awesome barbecue and he wanted to give me a glowing review online.
So I started my Etsy store, and delivered scrumptious barbecue to all types of monsters. I'm not even sure what about my sauce attracts them like bees to honey because my regular human friends think my barbecue is sorta average. But it has let me carve out an incredible niche in the market that's hard to beat.
In 1997, I hired my first few employees and opened a small restaurant. The orders were getting overwhelming to handle by myself, especially when a succubus ordered mountains of meat for an all-girls-night-out pillow party.
Now, Matlin's Meats is looking to hire. We're always on the lookout for new talents, and new supernatural creatures to pull to our doors. Click here to apply now and join a growing franchise that offers rare opportunities to work with a fascinating clientele who tip generously! Who knows, you might even get chummy with eldritch horrors!
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Welcome to the monster restaurant! Where we cook food that is absolutely not human flesh for monsters that definitely will not eat human flesh! Our menue is ever increasing as we get more ingredients!
Right now we have:
Definitely not human ribs!
Fingerless fish fingers!
Unhuman hamburger!
not rat poison.
And a simple salad!
Remember though, that you will have to pay for your food in one way or another, we understand that it may be a bit difficult to earn money as a non human resident so we offer alternative ways to pay off your lunch! Since we're short staffed in this rapidly growing restaurant, we're willing to let you work off the cost of your lunch!
Just remember: no eating people!
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jb8i9cs
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jb8b9zt
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[WP] Humans are the proverbial "Sleeping Giant," and thus make remarkably good deterrents. A common tactic of the Galactic Federation is to simply call in a human warship, such as the USS "Fuck Around and, FindOut," and simply let it sit nearby. Peace Talks happen within the week.
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"Deceleration burn complete, we're now entering planetary orbit Admiral."
"Thank you Lieutenant. Comms, get me the Federal liaison on the horn. Let's find out what kind of party we're crashin' out here."
"Aye sir!"
The comms officer's fingers raced over the keyboard at her front while observing a monitor to her right. The bridge was bustling with activity as the crew made preparations for their mission. The aptly named Mediator Class starship was decked from bow to stern with most cutting edge tech that humanity had to offer. All Mediator Class ships were essentially combat equipped exploration vessels. In fact, they are more suited to long distance travel than they are combat. That's not to say though, that they are not formidable. While not being a flagship battlecruiser, they are still more than capable warships and more powerful than most planetary navies in this sector, let alone an individual vessel.
"I have the Federation representative on the horn sir. Patching it to your console now."
"No need, just put it through the over head."
A moment later, a voice sounded out over the bridge. The Federal liaison clearly not human, chittered and clicked as it rattled off a response. Monitors at the comms post lit up active translation took place.
"Human Starship, I am Federal Representative 8374618-B. Authorization code Gamma Foxtrot Echo Oscar.
As the representative read out their credential, Lieutenant Johns input the information into her console.
"Identity verified, credentials are valid, sir."
Admiral Hastings nods at Johns and begins to address the alien rep on the other end of the transmission.
"This is Admiral Hastings of Federal Sector Authority, how may I be of service?"
The chittering insect like voice once again filled the bridge.
"Admiral, Federation mediators on the surface are negotiating cease fire between the two warring super powers on this planet. The excursion threatens to expand to other planets within the system. It is your duty to take action in the event these negotiations fail. You're tasked to simply posture in orbit at this time."
"Affirmative, we can sit here all day. We'll even put on a little show if ya want."
"That won't be necessary. We will contact you if your assistance is required."
The transmission ends and Johns makes a confirming gesture toward the admiral.
"Ladies and gentlemen, make sure you smile for the camera. Those unhappy folks down there ought to be lookin' our way right about now".
Several days pass without contact from the Federation liaison on the surface. The crew is on alert but alert is relative. Everyone's grown accustomed to essentially parking on some planet's doorstep for a few days only to stand down and move on once everything was said and done. The admiral has even been in his quarters the majority of the time reading novel he picked up when they last returned to Earth for crew change and resupply.
Johns, obviously bored, strikes up a conversation with the nav officer adjacent to her post.
"Hey Amari, it must be real tough for you navigate a ship like this. I mean with us being in orbit and gravity doing all the work right now."
Amari huffed, "No tougher than a comms officer never has to talk to anyone".
"So what do you think was so bad they had to call us for?"
Amarai shrugged, "No idea, probably something stupid like the last planet we were sent to. Speaking of, I heard the reason they took that Federal Auditor hostage was because the auditor didn't like food that was offered to them on arrival?"
"No shit? Imagine nearly being annihilated because you couldn't handle someone not liking your cooking."
"I mean I'd imagine it's pretty stressful preparing for and entertaining a Federal Auditor. When they didn't like whatever they were served, they probably just snapped."
Johns laughed, "I guess that makes sense, but still, I wouldn't risk my..."
As Johns was replying, the ship suddenly rocked hard to the port, knocking some unsuspecting crew to the floor and injuring others.
The admiral immediately contacted the bridge, "Status report!"
Johns replied hastily, "Sir, Mission Ops is confirming that we've taken fire from the surface of the planet. Nav is adjusting for the impact to maintain orbit and Intel is working on confirming the planetary source of the attack. Injury reports are coming in, but engineering confirms that no hull damage was sustained, shields are holding."
"I'm on my way to the bridge. Sound battle stations and get me that rep back on the horn!"
"Aye sir!"
Johns complied and alarms went off throughout the ship as everyone prepared for combat at their posts. In no mediation mission in the history of the FSA has an Earth vessel been fired upon. Johns was able to make contact with the representative on the surface just as the Admiral entered the bridge.
"Sir, I have contact with the Federal Liaison, patch them to your console?"
"No, over-head."
Johns complied and the Admiral responded, "What in the flying fuck is going on down there!? Why have we been engaged?"
The voice that's playing to the bridge now is not the same chittering, clicking, insect like voice of the rep that contacted the ship prior. Instead, a deep almost gurgling voice was being translated.
"Your federation thought you could come in and take what is not yours. Making claims and setting ultimatums. We will do what it takes to seize control of this planet and system and if you stand in our way, we will destroy you as well."
A sort of half smile crept up on Admiral Hastings face as he responded, "This is Admiral Hastings in command of the FSA Mediator Class Vessel, "Fuck Around and Find Out". Prepare to find out".
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Humanity had a destiny.
Or so we thought. Since the first fire was shared between one of our ancient plains dwelling ancestors and another. Our species slowly, generation after generation, became more capable of selflessness.
It had many labels throughout the centuries, from goodness to godliness. It's core ideology was framed sometime in the 1900th as Communism. So unspoken up until that point and so poorly executed in its attempted practice, that it caused the flames of unity to darken for nearly a thousand years.
Yet it lived on with new names, its core ideals still a part of every member of the species core potential.
Through the many, many generations mankind warred against itself. Man killed Man, brother slayed brother, children and women and all those in between. Race and gender, location and dialects. All created within mankind fear of the unknown and distrust. In our fear we lashed out in violence. In our ignorance of one another we came to blows. Time and time again mankind blew upon the fire of unity with an unrelenting force, that should in truth, in our arrogance, have led to complete and total destruction of our species.
We became masters of death and destruction. Warlords and Generals. Like rotting wood within the flames, it tainted the purity of the flame of unity, even as it tried to snuff it out.
Some men were sick with the taint of it. Broken inside, twisted by cold and though it is our shame, we accept those terrors as part of us. Or histories and hard learned lessons.
Our bloody path to unity.
And yet, each generation crawled forwards. Each cycle of youths, could see flaws in their elders and make effort to alter. And their progeny likewise. And so it was that the flames of unity survived. Within the hope for something better.
Until it was, that a generation rose that saw the path behind and knew instinctively the path ahead. They did not hold power as their elders. And not wanting to take on the selfish traits of their predecessors they waited and planned. Knowing that any alternative was selfishness they began to preach their message. They had only spread word of the future to their peers and the next generations. They had watched their predecessors build great masterworks of efficiency and productivity in the pursuit of coin. And they saw that it was necessary. For without both, the people could not be united. Without the pursuit of gold of their fathers and forefathers, they would not have been able to do what was done.
It did not come in a great war or battle. Men did not scream and wail at its arrival. For they knew it was generational and each parent and child, teacher and student, passed forward the ideals. Slowly, painstakingly and then it was. We had reached what we believed to be our destiny.
And then, we were finally accepted outside of our little planet. it was not until the full unity of mankind that we were contacted by the Galactic federation. The many peoples of the stars of the milky way galaxy. Thousands of worlds, all functioning within independent versions of their species unity.
But from our history, we could not hide. For they had watched us in horror. Mankind, the true, black sheep of the entire galaxy. The only species to not hold unity at its conception.
While we killed our brothers, other species could not comprehend hatred of their own. And so had not come to arms until they had walked the stars alongside other people's and systems.
Where mankind had forged itself outside of unification, we walked the stars as a terror of unspeakable potential for death. Yet we sought unity among the stars, like we had with all our own nations and peoples and even the non-sapient creatures and plant life of our world.
We were first contacted by the Galactic federation warmly. The greatest minds of the milky way, finally agreeing that we as a species had reached the common ground required to parlay. And offered a position to join, if we accepted a given role to play within our new community.
Watch dogs and protectors, those who all other species feared for their unity forged not born. Some believed us the wisest, others the most foolish. But all held fear of mankind's history and potential for that which no other in the Galaxy understood. We began to believe that just maybe, our destiny was greater still? That we could be the ones to bring unity to the stars.
Until an archeologist student found a bone. Until it was passed on to a geneticist. Until mankind quietly discovered..
**the betrayal of the makers**
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j9kkeip
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j9k0m2s
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[WP] After the Christian Rapture happened to everyone's considerable shock, those left behind (and those born to them after) all had a strange, unremovable marking appear on their foreheads. It took decades to translate, but the result was horrifying; "Do not harvest, not fit for consumption."
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It was a day like any other when the earth shook violently and the skies suddenly turned bright. All around the globe same sight could be seen. People saw what seemed to be giant, glowing beings descending from the heavens, Angels. Angels were unlike anything anyone had ever imagined, with wings blindingly beautiful and an otherworldly radiance that seemed to emanate from their very beings. As they drew closer to the earth, people began to feel an unfamiliar discomfort.
Christians, true believers, were taken that day. Taken to eternal peace, while the rest of humanity was left to ponder their decisions. Angels circled the globe several times leaving an unfamiliar mark on people's foreheads as they left.
Everyone born after that day got the same mark. No one knew what it meant, the leading theory was that it branded them sinners, someone who would never be able to reach and experience what those people did on that holy day.
Since that day, Earth changed forever. Most people stopped looking for material success and turned towards Christianity. Years later first marks finally started disappearing and humanity found hope once again.
Five years later Angels returned once again, taking those whose markings had disappeared. That was a clear sign for humanity of what their goal should be.
Angels repeated the same process five years later and one of them spoke that they would continue to do so. Sins can be forgiven and people can be accepted and brought to heaven with them if they work hard enough, and devoted their lives to it. Almost fifteen years had passed after that holy day and humanity eagerly expected the return of the Angels once more.
All of this did not sit right with Marcus, a history teacher, who combed through every book he could find trying to decipher the strange marking. He found himself in Egypt, at ancient ruins, looking for the final clues, he was so close.
His children and wife waited for him at home, their markings gone almost a year now. His wife Vivian had begged him to leave this pursuit of his and join them, she could help him lose the mark, and become a believer. She could be his guide into eternal peace and ascension.
But Marcus could not let it go, he had to follow his gut. He brought his team of eight people with him to Egypt, and all of them shared the same feeling of uncertainty and eeriness that surrounded the Angels.
They combed through the ancient site looking for final clues, something was missing. Every translation they did reading the parts of the strange symbol made no sense.
“Boss,” Lorein yelled. “I think I have found it, come look at this.”
Carved into one of the stones was a part of the symbol that decorated most of the remaining humanity’s foreheads.
“That’s it,” Marcus said. “We have everything we need. Bring that whole block, we will have the symbol translated tonight!”
They spent the whole night translating the symbol and just before dusk they succeeded.
The message read: "Do not harvest, not fit for consumption."
It was a chilling revelation, one that sent chills through the team. The implication was clear: those who bore the marking were safe and the others were in grave danger.
Minutes later as the team was still proof-checking the earth shook once again and the sky became bright. The Angels have returned once more.
The feeling of dread and horror swept over Marcus, his wife, and children had lost their mark and he was on the other half of the planet away from them. He was right all along but he was too late, he had lost his wife and children.
One of the team members was unbothered by the revelation and angels returned and continued translating part of the stone they have found at the ruins. He finished the sentence that was written at the bottom of the stone:
“If they ever return, find me!”
[part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/118w5n1/comment/j9labxl/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)
[part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/119emsf/rapture_do_not_harvest_not_fit_for_consumption/) \- On my sub, easier to read/post as this post is getting pretty crowded.
[part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/119gsw6/rapture_do_not_harvest_not_fit_for_consumption/)
[part 5](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/11a9sbq/rapture_do_not_harvest_not_fit_for_consumption/)
[part 6](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/11bsjtp/rapture_do_not_harvest_not_fit_for_consumption/)
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The year was 129 PR (Post Rapture)
Jacob was the 3rd generation born on Post Rapture Earth. It was 2 years after the Brand was translated and Jacob was on the Committee of Atheist Scientists whose sole purpose was figuring out what this means.
Jacob, specifically, was given the task of traveling across the Raptured Earth to find God to answer our unanswered questions. But there was no way for him to prepare for what he found.
Jacob trekked for 2 days to find The Spine of the Earth. A mountain range named for its tall but flat-topped peaks that looked similar to a human spine. The north end of the range forked in two giving it the shape of a ribcage. People said that God himself died and his body decayed here leaving just his bones.
Jacob knew better.
Jacob followed The Spine of The Earth north. Past the Ribcage mountains. All the way to the single volcano peak 4 days north of the Ribcage. This volcano had two caves at the very peak that often overflowed with lava like the mountain itself was crying fiery tears.
But Jacob knew better.
It wasn’t until Jacob started his descent into the left eye cave of the volcano that Jacob found what he was looking for.
God himself, walking amongst us on earth.
Jacob froze and took in his God. It shocked Jacob to his core. His god was not some immortal being: he was covered in scars, cuts, burns and rashes. His god was not a benevolent God either: bones littered his lair in this volcano.
His God was not a celestial human: His god was a dragon.
*Jacob, son. You came a long way from your village yonder. Why y’all trek all the way out here?* Yahweh doesn’t speak. Being a god he doesn’t have too. He puts speech into your mind. But with a curiously thick southern drawl.
“Oh, wise and merciful god! I have come looking for answers!”
*Well, if y’all got questions then shoot.*
“What is the meaning of The Brand oh merciful god!”
*Oh. Y’all aint real tasty and that dopamine y’all make from all them sins is poisonous you see. Y’all are like those Japanese pufferfish. Full of poison. Can't cook it out of y’all either. Tried smokin’ em, boilin’ em, grillin’ em, bakin’ em, broilin’ em, shoot I even tried flame grillin’ yall. But I juss can’t make y’all edible, y’all all taste just funny as all get out.*
“Wait. So what have you done with all the good Christians that you Raptured?”
*Oh them? Oh I ate all them I reckon and some of them never done any sinnin’ their whole life tasted so dang good it made me wanna slap my mama. See they didn’t commit any sins. I wrote that book. The uhhhh bible? Yeah the bible. I wrote that so y’all would stop doing all them things that make y’all taste so nasty tasting. Sinnin’ makes the meat all grimy and stringy. I wouldn’t feed some y’all to my hound pups. When I wrote that book I didn’t think all y’all would believe it. Just a couple of folks here and there that I could fly round and snatch up quick like. But I got real tired of only eating once a week or so. Im a hard workin fella and I get a hankering for meat. Been using this new cajun dry rub on the thighs and shoo that’s some good eating. But you got me running my mouth. I just put that stamp on some of y’all because y’all aint good to eat. Says so right on your forehead. I ain’t my fault y’all dumber than a box of rocks and think big things about what it means.*
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j9h14ku
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j9fxl3o
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[WP] You, the dragon, are concerned that your friend the knight doesn't have a girlfriend. Deciding to try your hand at matchmaking, you kidnap a princess.
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"I really don't see the issue here, Sir William. I think she's a really nice girl."
"Not the point, Flamespite."
I sniffle a little. "You only use my common name when you're mad."
"Well I am mad. You kidnapped a-a- a princess. Do you have any idea how much chaos this is causing? I'm pretty sure you started a war. Not to mention all the strife you put that poor girl through."
"Strife? Strife?!? She's happy here. Well, I think she is, anyway. I've kept her fed, let her into the library. Sure, she trembles like a mouse, but overall I think she's having a good time."
"You're not good with people, Flamspite."
"You know what, William? I'm not talking until you use my real name."
"You-- fine. Susan, you *have* to let her go."
"But... I only took her for you. You were supposed to save her yourself, then you'd get married and everything."
"No. Susan, what were you even thinking? That's not how people work. First of all, just because I save her doesn't mean I love her, and it certainly doesn't mean she loves me. those things take time."
"What do you mean she wouldn't love you? Doesn't everyone love you?"
"Of course not! That's not how people work. Feelings like that take time, you can't just force them like that. And why would you think everyone loves me?"
"Well, I love you, and I'm a dragon. Humans must really love you in that case. I only took her to make you happy. When humans love each other they give gifts, so I gave you someone who could love you the way a human can."
The knight covered his face with his hands and groaned. "Susan... please god tell me this isn't you proposing to me..."
"Umm..."
"Humans use rings, Susan. Rings. Not another human being."
"Oh! Ohhhh.... I'll put her back then."
"That would be nice, Susan."
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Maria, the princess, was sitting in her room. She saw something me in the corner of her eye. I was a person-sized dragon right outside the window. She screamed. I flew in and grabbed her. She struggled to break free. I carried her away.
Arlo, a knight friend, was walking in the courtyard of his house when he looked up to see me, his friend, Chi the dragon. I was holding the princess. Arlo was angry. “Hey, Arlo. I brought you a girlfriend.” “Put her back!” I was confused. “But…” “You can’t kidnap people.” I was sad. I flew off.
That afternoon, Arlo and I were hanging out. “Chi, I wanna thank you for kidnapping he. She’s actually my ex. She was a bitch.” “Oh…you’re welcome.”
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j6ad15u
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j6a8iyk
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[WP] Old mirrors were made with layer of silver. You, a vampire, spent centuries without seeing your reflection. Today, package with your first non-silver backed mirror arived.
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One of the greatest cruelties that God cast upon his creation is that men must kill to survive. Be it flora or fauna, something must give way for them to proliferate. Men have learned to forgive themselves for this fault, invoking the authority of the creation itself by saying: "This is just the way things are. It is natural that we kill. We were born this way."
And yet, men have not learned to forgive my kind, who kill for much the same reasons as them. No, they have not forgiven us, as I imagine the swine and the trees would not forgive men, if they possessed the ability to do so. I do not blame men for hating us. I just wish they'd understand.
We are the monsters of the earth. In the old days, before smoke and tar covered the planet, they called us the spawns of Satan. They hunted us, they drove us into the wilderness, they burned us, drowned us, shoved stakes through our hearts. Now, they have no name for us. No real name, no name they believe in. So few remain of my kind, it has been centuries since I have seen one of my brothers or sisters. Men have eradicated us, then forgotten us. And though we live long lives, we are, like all of Gods creations, ephemeral, and soon shall be no more than legend.
Humans say that the eyes are the window to the soul. And though I have seen my visage reflected in the calm waters of ponds, or in the cold windows of cities, my eyes always seem to be cast in shadow; I cannot see them clearly. And for many years there has been an itch in the back of my mind, an itch not easily subdued: Is there really a soul behind these eyes of mine? What if, were I to see them clearly, all I would find in them were dead black pupils?
Perhaps we are things of the devil. What else would compel us to consume that which we find beautiful? Perhaps we are the monsters of the earth; nightmares, which deserve to be forgotten.
In their hurry to change, to innovate, to dominate, the humans have done me a service to, quite on accident. A device with which I can finally see.
I gaze into the mirror. I expect to see all the violence, all the killing reflected in my eyes. Instead, I am met with a familiar sight, something which I have seen thousands of times in the faces of my prey: The eyes of a human, full of anguish and sorrow.
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Marie.
No? Me.
The person starting back at me through the glass was older. I'm older. And Marie is dead.
It's something in the eyes. They show the centuries even when I still look not a day older than the 20 i was when I was turned.
I had forgotten I looked so much like my older sister.
There's that slight scar on my check I got when I was 15 and me and Marie who were 18 were climbing the trees in the orchard. I was always the helion of us and I decided to swing from a limb. Would have worked good if it weren't for that branch, lucky it cut my cheek a bit, could have lost an eye. Marie helped me, cussing the sky blue while she did because she had told me so, but she helped me non the less.
It was a year before she died, the midwife said there was nothing she could do, and both Marie and her child died.
My eyes are also different, mine are tan like our father's eyes were, her's were our mothers luminous green.
I wish I could cry, but that's another thing you loose when turned.
I'm happy for the mirror. I haven't thought of Marie in years.
Next time I'll try to focus more and maybe try out one of those make up tutorials I found on YouTube.
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jg67kf8
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jg5svf3
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[WP] On your 18th birthday, you casted your first spell. The next day, a group of fine men and women came to your house, wanting to induct you into the magical community. “Oh, so are there any big dangers or schools I need to attend to?” “Err, no. It’s just the five of us.”
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I knew what she desired even before she opened up my pyramid. I knew what she came here for even before she heard of it. But it mattered not. For she was still here.
The so called, “Queen Of Light”, who had created a world without any shadow. Every single molecule was suffused with its power, and carried forth a tide of growth, change, and life. I threatened that existence, because of what I was. Where she represented growth, I stood for different change. Where she stood for complexity, I valued simplicity. Where she wanted those to grow their paltry souls, I valued them staying true to their nature.
And here she was, staying true to hers. She walked in through the darkened halls, the light from her cloak and hair illuminating the cold dark steel. I did not move, as I stood motionless until she was in the center of the room.
“Harbinger!” She called, raising her hands up. “I seek an audience!”
I stepped forward, my shadow’s hiding my true visage. My many eyes blinked and stared down at her. The pyramid hummed in anticipation. “Speak.” I commanded.
She lowered her arms, and head. “Brother, I know we have had our past differences. I know you must hate me for what I did.”
“You imprisoned me,” I replied dryly. “Prevented me from appearing to your world.”
“Yes,” she sniffled. “I know this isn’t want you wanted, but I-“
“You needed a villain,” I stated. Slowly, I began to walk around her, my shadows nipping at my heels like angry smoky dogs. “You needed to banish the darkness from your ‘World of Light’. And I let you.”
She lifted her head up. “What?”
“Taona, you are my kin. You are confused, unsure of your nature. You do not know where you will wind up. You value life, yet you cannot predict where it will lead. But in the light, there is only death. I have no such restrictions. I know what I am, and who I will be. So when you desired a villain, I became him.”
Taona shook her head. “And yet, you are not the one who will be my downfall.”
I cocked my head to the side. “I take it the seer had given you ill omens?”
“She gave me a prophecy,” Taona began. “My first advisor, Ballum. He will…he will betray me. Steal my light, and bring ruin to my world of light. He will use my power to wage war, the one thing the light should never be used for!”
“Light scorches, such as shadows freeze.” I replied.
“Perhaps. But if Ballum is to be defeated…I must leave my people and…”
“And what?”
Taona sobbed quietly. “I must bear a son who will kill Ballum. But I don’t want to leave anymore kin to fight a war not their own. He would be a child! Unfit for conflict. There must be a way to subvert the prophecy, but I have not found any way. Which is why I have come to you.”
“Of course.” I rounded a small throne, and proceeded to sit on the stair. “Would you like to know what I think, sister?”
“Yes, of course!” She pleaded.
“Prophecies cannot be avoided. Taking steps to try and avoid them, only leads to your inevitable destiny.” I warned. “The only way to truly subvert them is to play into fate, and ensure all possibilities are accounted for. You believe Ballum will betray you? Ensure that the betrayal doesn’t effect all your loyal followers. You worry your son may use the light?”
“Of course I worry.” She commented. “I worry for a child that will misuse a gift. I would want him to be kind, caring-“
“Then teach him those attributes.” I commanded, standing up and walking toward her. “But his strength need not come from Light alone.”
“What?”
I stopped, towering over my beloved sister. “Your light values peace. His light values war. My shadow values being true to oneself. If he wishes for Justice….”
Shadows coalesced around my hand, forming into several crystals and energized strands. “Then the shadow shall aid.”
(EDIT; Woke up with like 25 replies and being yhe top comment. Bruh)
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"Brother."
A familiar voice echoed in my place of exile. Around me floated the various items I had created during my imprisonment. Sets of armour, glistening with the night's splendour. Weapons that boasted twisting shadows, each a different shape but holding equal deadly potential.
I moved them away from the change I felt. Indeed, the gray space before me started to crack, the beginning vestiges of golden light peeking through. I solidified my body for the first time in years, choosing to be an amalgamation of the various creatures of darkness I ruled over.
My head was that of an enormous wolf, long black fur. My eyes were red, matching with the prominent fangs I grew. I made my body that of the ghouls that stalked my domain, skin stretched tight over bones. My left arm was spectral, covered in flowing rags, my right a flaming companion. I finished it with the legs of a giant spider, curled beneath me as I floated.
With my form settled I watched the cracks grow. I saw the golden seal behind the walls of my prison, its intricate lines bending. I smirked as they snapped, and a ball of wings appeared. "So, you finally decide to visit me."
The wings furled, making a beacon against the darkness I lived in. "I need your help. I was wrong."
That made me laugh. "The Goddess of Light admits her failure? Say it isn't so."
A wing beat in an agitated way. Her form was more regal than mine, a trapping of the times of being worshipped. I had cast off that shackle long ago. "Brother. I am sorry. Please, I need you by my side once more."
I raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. You plan to kill my children failed. Without me there they spread, and now threaten to topple your civilisation."
Another beat confirmed it, as she spoke again. "Yes... they run amok. I... I didn't realise you were holding them back for me."
I reached out, bringing her into a hug. She fought at first, but soon relaxed in my grip. "I know you didn't. But this was something you had to work out for yourself. We are two halves sister. You give light and purpose. I bring dark and rest. My children, they have no purpose. That is why they hunt and kill. There is no end goal for them. They endure."
Her words sprung around me, dripping with guilt. "I realise that now. I'm so sorry brother. I just wanted my people to be free to grow."
I released her, gesturing to the exit. "Well then, shall we make a start?"
She gave an affirming grunt, leading the way out. I bid my creations to follow, as I returned to our watchful place over the world. They began to orbit me, and I pointed to them. "Right, you are going to want to give these to some of your followers. After all, what better way to control my children then to use my power against them?"
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jdglmpj
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jdg4kis
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[WP] A man struggles to adopt a nocturnal lifestyle for his vampire girlfriend. A woman is heartbroken to lock up her werewolf fiancee every full moon. A child says goodbye to their mermaid friend because the river is too polluted. These are the untold stories of an urban fantasy world.
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A nurse calls my name, I rise from the uncomfortable waiting room chair and give her a wave. She leads me to a triage room near the waiting room and closes the door.
“So, it sounds like you’re in for rabies exposure?” she asks as she takes my blood pressure.
“Yeah, I picked up a gal at the bar, went back to her place, we do some making out, and then she revealed that she was a Vampire. I did some googling and saw that bats are the primary rabies vector in this part of the world so I figured—“
“Better safe than sorry, huh?” She interrupts.
“Exactly. It’s embarrassing, but we did a lot of kissing and I know it’s transmitted via saliva so…you know.”
“I get it. Can never be too careful,” she says as she removes the cuff. “Blood pressure looks good. Alright, we’ll get you back to see a doctor as soon as we can. We’ll see what the doc recommends based on what you’ve told me.”
I sit in the waiting room for hours as more critical cases come and go—a leprechaun with a unicorn stab wound, a mermaid in the midst of an overdose, a vampire who vomited up drug blood not five feet from me—and I can’t blame them for their triage decisions, but I’m exhausted and starting to grow impatient.
After four hours of waiting, the doctor finally calls me back.
“So, rabies exposure?” she says. “Are you certain you were exposed?”
“Well, no. But I’d rather be safe than sorry,” I reply.
“I understand there was some heavy petting with a saucy vampiress?” she says with a wink.
“Make out session,” I reply.
“And you asked the gal if she was a carrier?” she asks.
“Well, no. Seemed awkward to ask,” I reply.
“Well that makes sense. Why ask a simple and reasonable question of an intimate partner when you can undergo a series of painful injections?” she says with a chuckle.
“You know how it goes,” I say. “I just—I like this girl and I know it is a bit insensitive to assume all vampires carry rabies, but I also know that some do and it would be bad if left untreated. Plus—“
“Fatal,” interrupts the doctor. “It would be 100% fatal if you were exposed and did not get vaccination treatment for rabies. Donezo. Horrible death too.”
I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a doctor’s office and heard the word ‘fatal’ thrown around, but let me tell you it ain’t pleasant.
“Right…so that’s why I came in,” I say.
“Look. I get it,” she says. “I’ve been there. Hell, I myself have a thing for pale night walkers. I’ve personally been vaccinated so that I don’t have to worry about it either. There’s just something about a pasty man that can throw you around that—sorry, it’s been a long night.
“Ok. Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’ll get two injections tonight. One immunoglobulin injection that is human anti-bodies which will help jumpstart your immune response. The other is the rabies vaccine. Then you’ll return for three more vaccine doses over the next month.”
“Sounds great,” I reply.
“I should warn you though,” says the doctor, “the immunoglobulin that we inject is…a large shot. It goes in your ass and it’s going to hurt like hell.”
“Oh, goody,” I say.
“Any questions?” she asks.
“Yeah, am I able to, you know, go out with this gal while I go through the course of treatment?”
“Oh, sure, sure. Even if she’s a carrier you should be fine to continue relations with her as we administer your vaccinations.”
What a relief it was to hear. I would be able to see her again soon. There’s playing hard to get and then there’s ghosting a gal for a month.
The doctor comes back into the room with the syringes ready to go.
“Ready, big guy?” she says.
I don’t know if you’ve ever been called, ‘big guy’ by a doctor who is your own age, but let me tell you it ain’t pleasant.
“Big guy?” I ask.
“Oh, ha,” she chuckles, “I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to Vlad here.”
“Vlad?” I ask.
“Yeah, the immunoglobulin syringe. We call it Vlad the Impaler because of, you know, vampires. That and it very much impales you.”
“Jesus Christ,” I say.
“He can’t help you here!” she says with a comical Transylvanian accent.
Then she impales my ass with Vlad.
The things I do for love.
______
r/InMyLife42Archive
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To most foreigners, Toledo is a much sought-after place to live the American Dream. Beneath the hustle and bustle of the city, there lies the designated Urban Fantasy Districts, where all manner of supernatural creatures live.
Toledo Untold Stories is a storytelling project to help humans and supernaturals share their stories of the challenges they face when they cross the line established by the Masquerade.
A man struggles to adopt a nocturnal lifestyle for his vampire girlfriend. A woman is heartbroken to lock up her werewolf fiancee every full moon. A child says goodbye to their mermaid friend because the river is too polluted. These are their untold stories.
"For me, falling in love with Carmilla quite literally turned my life upside down. I had to quit my cushy job and pick up a lower pay as a night shift duty guard so we could actually have time together. Otherwise, I will be working when she is asleep and vice versa! The nocturnal life is a chaotic mess for my biological clock and sometimes I wonder if my sanity was worth giving up for the love of my life. Sometimes I wonder if she will remember everything we did together when she inevitably outlives me..."
- Richard, a 32-year-old former finance manager who now works as a night shift security guard while dating Carmilla, 151-year-old Countess of Karnstein.
"My female friends tell me of their monthly troubles, but my trouble is double! My 2nd trouble is locking up my dear George every full moon. He's such a sweet, gentle man, but his wolf side is an absolute horror he cannot control! What did he do to deserve this? He didn't ask to be turned! All he asked was to be chained and thrown into our basement every full moon so he wouldn't hurt anyone. Before this mess, he wouldn't even hurt a fly! I haven't even told my parents my fiancee was bitten and turned into a werewolf...would they accept him now? I don't know..."
- Lisa (not her real name), an accountant whose high school sweetheart was bitten and converted into a werewolf just a year ago.
"I loved swimming, as a kid, I used to go down to the Smolbrok River because its waters and surroundings were beautiful. It was there that I met my best friend Ariel. She was a lovely mermaid who always gifted me with wonders from the river after our weekly swim together. My last swim with her was decades ago...before Matlan Pharmaceuticals moved in and their laboratories contaminated the rivers. It was so sudden when Ariel just blurted out that this would be our last swim. It still feels like yesterday sometimes...I've posted a few photos we've taken together online, please help me find my childhood best friend..."
- Benji, a 45-year-old fisherman, recounting a tale of lost innocence and friendship as Big Pharma ruined the once pristine waters of SmolBrok.
Over the last few years, we've gathered captivating stories that otherwise would not make news headlines from our diverse community of star-crossed friends and lovers, mortals and supernaturals.
Do you have an untold story to share with us?
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kot1khk
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korixlj
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[WP] You're in class one day when a beast straight out of fantasy crashes through the door head first. On its heel is your always bullied and unpopular classmate, who swiftly and effortlessly hacks it in two with a sword from behind. They look up to see everyone staring at them. "Aw, shit."
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His legal name actually is Dick Smelzi. Not Richard. Not Rick. But Dick. Combined with his last name. Who would name their kid that? When my parents first heard me mention his name, they thought I was joking. My protestations fell on deaf ears. They grounded me for a week when I tried to insist that is his real name.
He tried to go by nicknames, but every new substitute teacher doing roll call would cause us to giggle uncontrollably.
What made it worse was that he lived on a pig farm, and the odor, like a miasma, followed him everywhere, despite everything he did.
You can guess what the bullies called him.
And he was short, scrawny, funny looking, and had a stutter. He was playing life on hard mode.
Of course my classmates bullied him. Mercilessly. Didn't help that his parents were some sort of weirdos who wouldn't let him hang out with other kids or do any after school activities. His parents were a pair of religious weirdos who didn't believe in movies, television shows, music or even the internet. He lacked the social connections and cultural touchstones that could have helped him.
Yet somehow, slowly, over the years, he managed to make friends. It took him awhile, but he improved his charisma and started making friends. Given enough time, I could even see him becoming a popular kid in high school. But of course there were still bullies. He was building his social network, but he was still low enough on the social pecking order to be a target.
But he persisted. Despite the year of illness that kept him out of school, destroying much of his progress with making friends. Or when his parents threatened to sue the school over halloween, which caused the yearly halloween party to get banned. He often had setbacks like this - almost as if something was trying to make his life as difficult as possible.
I was in class the day some tentacled horror burst in. We all screamed, of course. Just to see Dick run in behind it, pull a katana from seemingly out of nowhere, and cleave it in two. The halves fell to the floor, then evaporated.
The he saw us.
"Aw shit," he said, his face filled with disappointment and anger. "Must have accidentally enabled the Lovecraft mod when I installed the social challenge mod."
He sighed.
"And I was on a good pace this run."
He looked around again. "Meta command: reset game"
My confusion was the last thing I would ever experience.
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The class applauds them, and the beast is cleaned up by a specialist team who'll be sending it off to a lab for analysis.
Then, things continue as normal - though the bullies have had a change of thinking and are willing to learn (not only in class, but from the usual class scapegoat), for once.
This world has been seeing anomalous events where at least one person, usually the 'underdog' or someone who would be responsible and well-mannered, ends up with great and terrible power - and 'displaced' beasts or enemies to use it on.
So far there have been reports of orc clans being displaced from fantasy worlds, though they usually regroup and attempt to enact some kind of ritual to try and open a portal, often borrowing junkyard metals to craft a portal frame and try to power it.
Successful portals usually led to the orc clans leaving, with the portal machine falling apart mere minutes after and ceasing to be functional.
Common belief is that these devices are literal magitech. Other displaced groups often attempt the same feat - or, in rare cases, attempt to integrate with local society.
A similarly common anomaly of these displaced entities is beings who possess sufficient linguistic ability are able to speak the world's common languages - often English and whatever local language is spoken - with enough nuance to properly convey themselves.
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m9ko1mr
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m9k149x
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[WP] The dancing plague of 1518 returns and through social media the contagion spreads fast and globally. You're one of the few survivors in an apocalyptic wasteland, hiding from the dancing horde.
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“Oh, which name would you like?” the human smiled and leaned against a tree.
The Fae with a thousand names chuckled, he loved this part, the back and forth, especially with a target that seemed to know the game. The ones that thought they could get one over him were always the most delicious.
“Let’s start with your most recent name, no harm in that, right?” he said with a disarming smile, allowing some of his Fae features to come out, why not. Bright butterfly wings that somehow were solid and yet passed through his clothes faded into existence.
“Xris” the human didn’t appear fazed by the wings appearing, he didn’t even glance at them.
He felt the name come to him, felt the power begin trickling in. “Excellent, but that isn’t your real true name is it?” He pulled on the power and frowned for just a second, Xris should have felt that, should have been losing power already. “Tell me another name, what is your true name, what your soul name is.”
“I can’t tell you” the man who used to be called Xris said with a bored voice.
“Oh?” The Fae drifted closer, smiling disarmingly as he came within arms reach. having one name was enough to prevent any attacks, or at least he’d be able to feel it coming.
The entity previously known as Xris opened his eyes and looked deeply into Taen’s. A name spilled out, forming into pure knowledge and therefore power within the Fae, but the name was not simple, nor a name. It was something else, something that even his kind was not meant to understand. He saw the universe, the multiverse, outside the multiverse in those eyes.
And somewhere in that sea of knowledge and power he saw him, Xris, along with millions of his true names. But he couldn’t control him. Xris reached towards him with his true form, and Taen took it willingly.
—-
Xris smiled as he handed the vial to the Demon wearing the silver scale on his left breast. “Taen won’t be bothering anyone else, here are the names he borrowed, I’m sure you can return them to their proper owners.”
The demon wanted to ask what happened to the Fae, but was too terrified to ask. He just nodded while taking the vial and watched the human, or what looked to be a human walk back towards the docks.
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A horrifying aura washed over Maeya, her ears resounding with the screams and whispers of a thousands twisting souls. They filled her mind, relentless, overlapping, infectious and unavoidable.
“I sorry! I didn’t-“
Maeya collapsed to her knees, wings crumpling under some otherworldly pressure, skin boiling.
“You can have it back! I’m sorry! I return your name to you!”
But the man did not accept it.
“No. It’s ok, really.” The man—no, the creature—spoke, his voice now hauntingly inhuman and uncannily relaxed, as a wide girn formed on his face, “I’m sure you have more need of it than I.”
“No no no! I insist! Please take it back!!!”
“Such a nice young lady…” and the thing walked off, ignoring Maeya’s pleas, whistling softly to itself.
“Please, please—OH god, the whispers! The screams!”—and she could not tell which was louder—“Make it stop!”
Her blood began to curdle, her bones to turn to jelly, she felt a sudden pressure push from behind her eyes.
“I am a regal spirit of the fey wilds…” she tried to yell triumphantly, to stand, but the words left her mouth as barely a mutter while she lay limp on the ground, “I shall not be-“
Her head imploded.
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jv1h1kp
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jv12z1n
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[WP] "are you another so called hero? here to save the princess from my clutches?" no, i am but a simple scholar. i just want to know why you would kidnap a princess in the first place"
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“You might not be a hero picking a fight with me, but you have made the same fundamental mistake as they have by assuming I am behind Princess Peach’s kidnapping,” Bowser sighed. “Look I know what I did in the past, but I swear it isn’t me this time. Your princess is in another castle.”
Yoshi bowed and left Bowser’s castle by the back door. This felt no different than his past adventures with Mario and Luigi, traversing through different worlds, bonking boss after boss in their respective castles. Only to find Princess Peach not to be in the castle at all.
“Oh, and I’m not buying that scholar act, so don’t expect the others to believe that shit!” yelled Bowser just as Yoshi closed the door behind him.
Next was King Boo’s ghost castle. It was no longer to his surprise that the real exit would only appear if he bumped the correct box with his head. Clearly, Mario’s old foes still kept up the same old habits. After a couple of stomps on the head, King Boo surrendered with an angry expression.
“Simple scholar my foot, Yoshi! Quit stomping on me already, I lost, I lost! Oh, and your princess isn’t with me. Go get your princess in another castle.”
He now stormed into Wario’s abode to find Peach, only to find the latter wasn’t even up to a fight. Wario was seated on a bean bag, playing Mario Kart on his console with his girlfriend Mona by his side.
“Do I look like I have Princess Peach anywhere here, Yoshi? I have Mona right here,” he said, receiving a smooch from her right on cue. “Clearly, your princess —”
“is in another castle. I’ve heard that a gazillion times, Wario. Sorry for disturbing your game, I’ll get going, hope you have a fun weekend,” Yoshi replied as he headed out to his next destination.
He found Waluigi hunched over his console, also playing Mario Kart. “Yoshi stop distracting me or I’ll lose to Wario, dammit! Quit digging around my home looking for a princess that isn’t here!”
“Magikoopa! It’s you who kidnapped Princess Peach this time, isn’t it!” Yoshi yelled as he barged into the castle to stomp on the Koopa wizard.
“I have a name, and its Kamek, you dumb dinosaur! What’s your problem?”
“Did you kidnap Princess Peach?”
“NO! Why would I do that again? I got stomped into the ground six feet under by Mario and his pals the last time I did it. Who told you the princess got kidnapped anyway?”
“Toad of the Mushroom Kingdom,” Yoshi said.
“Toad is a fucking idiot. There’s no kidnapping at all. Princesses Daisy, Rosalina, and Peach all snuck out to go play Mario Party together somewhere,” Kamek retorted as he picked his hat off the ground. “I’m a brainy Koopa, it’s my shtick to know things. Look, I’ll throw in a map so you can find the girls if you would promise not to stomp on me again.”
Having followed the map to this secret hideout, it was to his surprise that Kamek wasn’t lying.
“Yoshi? Are you here to join us? We could do with one more player for Mario Party!” Princess Peach waved. “Toad doesn’t know about this gathering, does he? We worked really hard to throw him off because he isn’t a very good team player.”
After some thought, Yoshi figured it would be a good idea to have fun after a long and arduous journey. Just one hour or two before he returned to Mario and Luigi.
**
Bowser sat down on the floor dejectedly. "Mario, please stop stomping on me. Yes, I saw Yoshi about a month ago, trying to look for Princess Peach. And no, I didn't kidnap Peach or Yoshi. They're both in another castle."
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Edit: I realized I botched Heather near the end and swapped her to Harold. I corrected those parts, so the three ladies have dinner together.
---
"Excuse me... Could you repeat that?!" I cleaned my ears out in bewilderment, waiting for more.
"Nay, dear villainess. I'm not here to fight your horde of knights and various mages or the Arch Knights. I merely wish to interview you, if that's alright." The young lady bowed before me.
I sat, silent while I started thinking about the letters Princess Alliway and I sent to one another and the brief moments we were able to steal in secrecy. The way her eyes reflect the waters of the land, a smile, brighter than even the sun itself, lighting even the deepest reaches of my heart. How soft and smooth her hair feels against my fingertips as we cuddle during those nights.
"My apologies, dear scholar, but I'm afraid you're mistaken on the kidnapping bit." I smiled wide as Princess Alliway entered the throne room.
"I came of my own volition, not by thievery or force. I've fallen in love with Princess Phiona, of the Land of 'Darkness' as others call it... But this is the brightest place I've been to since stealing away many nights." I couldn't help but grin at my girlfriend.
"Oh, I see. So King and Queen Alliway accused you of kidnapping, when that's not the case at all?" The young scholar jotted down in her parchment. "May I proceed with learning more about the relationship you two have?" Her own heart melted at the sight of the two beautiful women before her. Their love reminded her of what she had with her late boyfriend, Allibaster before his passing due to an unknown illness.
"Scholar, you may proceed. But, pray tell, what is your name?" I felt Princess Alliway place her hands in mine as i gently held them.
"My name, my ladies, is Heather. It is my pleasure to interview you both." She bowed humbly. Such a kind woman.
"How about we talk about it all over a feast? I'm quite famished." I smiled at Heather and Princess Alliway. "Yvette, how about you?"
I loved watching her face stretch from ear-to-ear as she smiled. "Yes, my love. I'm quite hungry myself! Let us eat!"
And so, we went off to the kitchen to advise the staff of what we would like and that they are welcome to join us. "Take your time, good food is better with patience."
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juywnf6
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juyuk2l
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[WP] You're the first test subject for an experimental super soldier serum. You are told the truth only after you transform into something not quite human anymore.
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"Preparation fluid at saturation. Begin Stage One."
The measured words made my heart race. I was voluntarily strapped to a slab, lifted into a near vertical position. I had seen it as I lay in place, with various instruments, tubes and wires I couldn't hope to understand. Not that I needed to. I was merely the test subject.
A series of hisses was my first warning, closely followed by a stabbing sensation along my spine. I groaned, closing my eyes at the ice cold feeling around each site. It made me shiver, though I kept my breathing as level as possible. I had been through hell in training. I could take this.
A further hiss told me the injections were done. The needles retracted from my spine, leaving the serum in me. I didn't feel any different yet, beyond the cold. But then I didn't know what to expect. I was the very first subject. This was unknown territory.
"Stage One complete. Begin Stage Two."
This part I wasn't looking forward to. I had been pre-warned, but that didn't help with the anticipation. I felt two paddles lie against my exposed back, swiftly followed by a hum. I couldn't help myself from tensing, as they activated. It felt like a low level taser, my muscles tightening around each paddle.
Now I felt something different. My spine ached, but not from overuse. This felt more like it was being held back, like it needed to move, needed to grow. Yet it didn't stop there. The feeling spread, reaching around my chest, and covering each limb. I felt small, trapped, wating for release.
The sounds around me muffled, as my heartbeat rang in my ears. A slow, steady beat, as if my panic had been utterly forgotten. Each breath echoed in my skull, like a gale outside the window at night. A brief opening of my eyes showed the light too bright to see anything, stabbing at my pupils.
I barely felt the final injection, as it was plunged into my chest. This one came with a burning heat, the opposite of the chill now encasing my body. They mixed, and my world became pain. Bones cracked, muscles tore, and tendons snapped.
But they reformed, taking on a better, stronger shape. I strained against my bonds, feeling the metal bending. I growled, thrashing about. It hurt. It hurt so much. I couldn't think. I needed out. I needed away. It was just agony.
After what seemed like an eon, the pain began to subside. I began to notice the room around me, filled with the smell of people. Their cologne and deodorant stuck in my throat, making me gag. But I also smelled the defecation around me, a result of the violent changes to my body.
The bonds around my limbs felt different. They were larger now, but still as tight. I growled again, deliberately pulling. This time they snapped with ease, letting me feel myself again. I heard gasps as I did, with a faint increase in the low drumming around me.
Finally I opened my eyes. The room.was brighter, each colour sharper. But around each scientist and soldier, I could see a glowing aura. New instincts told me it was their body heat, now so clear to me.
The leader of this project stepped forwards, an older man in a white coat. I remembered him, Doctor Insbeck. He stared up at me, when before he had looked at eye level. "It's beautiful.... The first super-beast. How do you feel?"
The word beast echoed in my head. I glanced at myself, seeing a chitinous growth over my broadened chest. My arms were thick, ending in hands tipped with long claws. A new feeling at the base of my back moved, revealing a long, whip-like tail.
I was meant to be a super human. A super soldier, that is what they had said. Not a beast. Not a monster. I didn't know how to feel. I didn't know what to think. Until my stomach growled, alerting me of the emptiness I felt within.
I looked down at the doctor, grinning to reveal sharp teeth. I spoke slowly, adjusting to speaking with a new vocal cord. "Hungry...."
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# Soulmage
**Anyone else would have questioned the number of guards around the simple bed.** Six witches, two ambassadors from the Eldritch Initiative, and four disgruntled-looking young soldiers with shortswords surrounded Iola as he sauntered towards the center of the room.
But Iola felt good about this. He always felt good—he was just an upbeat kind of person—but the power that the Eldritch Initiative had promised him was so close he could almost taste it.
Wait, no, that was blood. He'd bitten his tongue in excitement. Oh, well, it was far from the first time.
"Now be warned, the process is currently irreversible." Iola had to work around quite a few bureaucratic loops in order to get here—teenagers were *not* supposed to become experimental extradimensional entities. But the man in front of him didn't recognize Iola, and Iola didn't recognize him. "This is your last chance to back out."
The corners of Iola's lips twitched. "Things always work out for me," he said. "I'm quite happy where I am, thank you very much."
The man shrugged. "Well, a test subject is a test subject. Do you have the sample?" He asked, turning towards the ambassador.
The vaguely humanoid puppet of flesh held out... Iola craned his neck, curious. What was that, some kind of potted plant? It was gnarled and ancient and *boring*, so Iola didn't bother thinking about it any further. "You will have to perform the infection yourself, of course."
The man nodded. "For your own safety, please lie down on the—ah, there you go." He came forward, holding the potted plant. "This should only take a moment."
Iola stared at the ceiling, humming to himself, excited for the changes. Would there be a surge of strength as his muscles grew? Ooh, would he sprout razor-sharp claws and wings? Or a fire-breathing snout and powerful jaws?
But the changes were not so... physical.
The anticipation turned andric as Iola's expression contorted, the upbeat joy he constantly felt sickening into varination. Iola's eyes bulged as his neurons were rewired, the new emotions coursing through his mind as familiar and human as chyme was to water.
And then it was done. Though not a single fiber of his perfectly-combed hair was out of place, someone else looked out from behind Iola's eyes.
"Infection complete," the man reported. "Tell me, Iola. How do you feel?"
Iola worked its jaw, twisting it this way and that, until it settled into a dorceless gape.
"I feel humber," Iola said, and the pulsating of his eyes confirmed it. "I feel *good.*"
A.N.
This story is part of Soulmage, a story written in response to writing prompts. Check out the rest of the story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/), or r/bubblewriters for more.
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ktzva96
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ktzpe9k
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[WP] You wake up to find out that you've been somehow transported into the world of the last video game you played. Describe your first day.
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As I come to myself, a cold breeze washes over my naked body. All but a cloth covers me, serving as my underwear, and I scratch my skin, it itches from lying on the dirt.
My eyes are still trying to adjust to the light, while clanging footsteps can be heard in the distance. An all too familiar scene is around me. Behind me a door of a derelict tomb, and in front a rocky clift with a path leading down into a florest. A ruined church can be noticed in the distance, but even farther away on top of a hill I can see stone walls. From the florest it emerges, a gigantic knight in golden armor riding a black horse, carrying a giant spear and shield.
Just over the boulder where it should be, I see no grace. There is no Varre to meet me, after all I'm only human, not tarnished. I am no one of renown, no hero or villain. I know I won't survive. I don't know why I should try to. Having just woken up, I feel the urge to take a leak, and with nobody in sight I piss over some bushes, an eye over the knight and another to my surroundings. Something warm touches my right toes, and I see my pee streaming into my foot, breaking my stance and having me awkwardly readjusting my feet.
With no remarkable skill or survival knowledge, and no clear objective, I steer clear of the knight and try to reach the church where Kale hangs out. My bare feet hurt, I'm not accustomed to walking without shoes, and I'm cold. I constantly hear flying bugs around me, which add to disconfort and have me stroking my arms, legs and back, trying to shoo them away. I try to gather plants so I can sell them to Kale, I guess these are Rowa Fruits? They are far smaller and fewer than I thought, look like guava seeds and smell like wet fallen leafs. I wonder if they are edible but avoid the test for now, and with the fruits in hand I continue on towards the church while the tall grass and bushes scratch against my skin. My knee hurts, I've had two surgeries and poorly recovered, mobility and agility are going to be my biggest handicaps.
I see Kale and his campfire, and some hope refreshes me, but I approach with caution, trying to remember: he is not my friend, he doesn't know me, and I'm no one to him.
"Hello there" I say clumsy, english not being my first language.
He eyes me up and down, and I'm not sure if it's the cold or fear that I'm shivering with.
"Almost mistook you for a tarnished... Or are you? Oh, where are my manners... Good day to you."
"No, I don't think I am... a tarnished. May I sit by your fire? It's cold."
"By the looks of you, I see no harm." - he signals towards the fire - "Then why not, and while you're at it, why not purchase a little something? I am Kale, Purveyor of fine goods."
"Sure, thanks" - I limp towards the fire and sit just a little too close, the heat hurting my legs but my back is still feeling a cold breeze. Kale lays out the usual items he sells in-game
"Do you have something... more basic? I could use some footwear, or a shirt"
" I have these chain leggings and armor, if you can spare 2000 runes" -Kale answers.
"Can we eat this?" I ask, handing out the Rowa Fruits. Kale frowns "- you're not from around here, are you? Most people here have become husks serving or fighting mad kings, but you still have your wits about you... And a kind of innocence."
"No, I'm not... What can you give me for the fruit?"
"10 Runes" he says bluntly.
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8am
Fuck. I've been isekaied.
Sure, sounds great in theory. Learn magic, become a hero. Except in reality you are a homeless guy with no money or training, not that chosen one that keep killing gigantic monsters.
Still, I am the newest citizen in Gran Soren, and I have to find a way to survive. Inside the city, of course... I am not going out there to get killed by the first goblin I encounter.
Will I even be able to learn magic? Will healing items work on me?
10am
OK, I am much more optimistic now. I found a big stick and have been demolishing all crates I find. The barrels I just open, why smash them? I even found some chests. I now have a silly hat, some fruit, and several sacks of gold. I just hope the stuff will respawn at some point, because damaging other people's property right in front of them so I can take the single item or sack of gold they store in it is going to be my new vocation.
12am
The tavern food was quite ok, and better than the stuff I found. Still, that inn charges a hefty sum. Should I really sleep there, or is there a cheaper solution?
1pm
Noone cares if you just take a nap on a bed in the inn. I guess I'll be fine.
2pm
There are a lot of Pawns in this city. They really just wander around and don't do much. They look human, can talk, but don't do much if a real human isn't ordering them about. I think some tests are in order.
6pm
So, there's good news and there's bad news. The good news is that you can really just go to a Pawn and tell them to do stuff, and there is a good chance they'll actually do it, even if I am no some Arisen that can summon them. Some of them agreed to go smash crates and stuff for me, though it seems I have to go with them or they just forget and wander off.
The bad news is that I had the idea that maybe, just maybe, the Pawns would take commands beyond just "go there, smash that". To be a bit more clear, I tested what a certain red-headed Pawn named Judy would do for me if I asked very nicely. And yes, it seems some Pawns do react favorably to the command "Show me your boobies".
Unfortunately the guard that saw me do that was not as favorably inclined. Seems there are some laws against "Improper conduct with Pawns". I now sit in a dungeon cell, and not only did they take most of my money, they even took my silly hat.
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jq2awc5
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jq1vyoi
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[WP] The hero is 16, he raises his wand. The villain steps into a time warp. Now the hero is 26, with a wife and two kids. Just fired, behind on the mortgage, the car blew its transmission. What else could go wrong? The "villain" reappears.
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“Reformation.”
“What?” The devil asks incredulously.
“He arrived at Heaven’s Gate with a frown on his face. When I asked him, ‘what was the matter’ he looked at me with the most gentle eyes. For a while he did not speak but I could *feel* his sorrow. It was as if…” the angel hesitated. “It was as if he was *suffering*.”
“Suffering? In Heaven?! Have the end of days come already?!” The devil’s laugh reverberated the very caustic air around him. “So then did he say anything?”
“Yes. He did.”
His response was short and solemn.
For many centuries the devil has known the angel to be haughty and condescending but never has he seen this look on him before. “How pitiful” he thought, withdrawing his smile a bit but still very much amused.
“He said, ‘While I was living, there were so many men and women who needed salvation. Hunger, illness, and strife plagued the lands. Many died and many more have suffered. Humanity has sinned to merely live a basic life. There was no livelihood! For what reason did they wrought each day?! A warm meal?! A warm bed?! Good health?!’” The angel stopped as if there was a lump in his throat.
“Speak, angel, I shall hear more of this” said the devil impatiently.
“People who have sinned have lost God’s favor…” the angel spoke almost in a whisper. “He said, ‘It was not their fault for being seduced by needing what they did not have. But what happened did happen. I did all I could to mend those pour souls while I was still living. But now… now I must give salvation to those who have lost their way. Once more. Please. Please allow me to go to the land of sinners. I want to give them the restitution of peace with the sacrifice of my own blood and soul. I want to give them salvation.”
The devil bellowed. “WHAT?!? THAT’S THE MOST PREPOSTEROUS THING I’VE HEARD IN ETERNITY!” The volcanic geysers erupted behind them as he huffed and he snarled. But after pondering for a moment, he grinned again. “I must meet this mortal. Who is he? I’ll be sure to give him a warm welcome. If he desires to help these tormented things then he shall be given the chance to do so.” There was a glint in his dark eyes.
The angel pointed to the man in the distance whom was peering down into pits of hell. He gestured for him to come over. As he approached his fair olive skin glistened with sweat from the smoldering heat and his long brown hair danced about just as the ashes and smoke that breathed on his face. He had an ascetic and austere figure but his cadence was the embodiment of grace. His face expressed modesty and serenity but his eyes, just as the angel had said, was filled with grief and sorrow. Oh but his eyes! There was something more! There was anguish. But there was also fierceness. It had conviction in them, a sort of crazed forlorn hope that seemed to burn brighter than the flames surrounding him. The devil stood bewildered. It took some time before he finally noticed this but the man before him was no mere mortal. His very soul emanated and radiated light on his skin like armor.
The man stopped a few steps away from the devil and angel and opened his mouth to speak.
“Hello. My name is Jesus. I am the son of God.”
|
"How interesting is it?" The shadowy figure, that was much darker than even the pitch black room that he sat in.
Speaking in a dissonant swill of tones and frequencies that would offend any living thing that heard it.
"How interesting is it that such a turn of events would occur now, with your followers twisting the word of your *lord*, while we, down here, are telling his truth without fear of retribution. For is it not said in your books that we can only lie?"
His voice was barely recognizable from the sound of the paint peeling from the walls of this room, and yet, it has the barest hints of disbelief.
At the other half of the room, a figure of such brilliant light, that it almost overtakes the darkness that opposed her, sets of wings counting two and two folding over her form, to grace her with the barest of modesty that her radient form could afford.
She was stoic, almost perfectly so, but the figure staring her down could very easily tell, *she was nervous.*
***very, nervous***
"We can't accept him up there." She said, her voice almost robotic with how still it was.
"He has a life full of virtue and righteousness, he has not blasphemed, nor indulged, nor even **seen** sin."
A moment that seemed endless passed
"And yet, we can't let him through the gates, not even let him stretch his arm through." Her heart beat so fast, it made no sound, and yet the shadow sitting across from her still counted each thump.
The shadow smiled, his teeth even blacker than the shadow he cast on the shadows surrounding him.
"And why is that?" Feigning ignorance and innocence, this shadow was.
"Should he walk through, fully, he would be blinded both again and even more than he was in life." She looked away before looking back a few momentary eternities later.
"But he wouldn't be blind down below, in the deep, the dark, the caverns." She finished saying
The shadow smiled even wider than mortal lips would allow and said only the following words, before vanishing from the room the two sat in.
"Isn't that ironic?"
Shortly after he left, the being of light finally collapsed, a sweaty mess.
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jvfs350
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jvfn6l0
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[WP] You had the perfect dirt to blackmail them and sent them an anonymous threat. Instead of money, you receive a photograph of your child entering their school.
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A promise is a promise.
Talkers make threats. I've never been much of a talker. I make promises. I don't think Governor McCullah understood that when he responded the way he did. Typical for a political dirtbag to threaten harm upon a child.
"I know," my daughter, Penny, says as I slap the picture down on the dinner table. "They were sloppy. I didn't bother with countersurveillance. Didn't want to show my hand."
I nod appreciatively. "Clever girl," I say. She takes a bite of the lasagna on her plate. "Sho he didn't take de bait?" I clear my throat. "Don't talk with your mouth full, dear," I say. "No, he's opted for a different strategy." Penny takes another bite, but swallows before responding. "Well our hands are tied, then. You'll release the dirt tonight?" I nod.
"We'll both need to be careful. Double back. Be aware. Pick up your tools on your way to school tomorrow. You remember the dumpster dead drop?" Penny wipes her mouth and nods. "I could use some practice." I laugh as she smirks. "My ass, you do," I say. "I can't afford to take on a hit squad with broken ribs, young lady. I think we both know you're not rusty."
Penny laughs, and I summon all my willpower to conceal the fear I feel. I know she'll be ok. I know she could take on anyone they send to take her or harm her. What I'm afraid of is what killing a person will cost her. What I'm most afraid of is that it won't cost her anything. That she won't feel the burden of that weight at all. She finishes her dinner and puts her dishes in the sink.
"Can I go down to the range?" she asks. "Homework first," I say. "Then you can hit the range, but only if you do your stretches before bed." Her smile lightens the weight on my heart. "Thanks, Daddy!" She runs off. I push my own plate to the side. I'm too nervous to be hungry. I open my laptop and open the program I wrote to disseminate the dirt anonymously, just in case. I run the executable, and the console application gets to work packaging up the evidence.
Packaging evidence... Complete!
Press Y to disseminate. Press any other key to escape.
My finger hovers over the Y key.
"A promise is a promise."
***TAP***
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I stare at the picture that came from the unmarked envelope in my mailbox. There is a child, not more than ten years old, walking into James Mason Elementary. I knew Principle Martinez and some of his *dealings*, so I sent him a little notice. An educator's life is already fragile, easy to ruin in the court of public opinion, and if he didn't want his secret to go public, he'd have to offer me a cut.
I am confused by the picture of this tiny but fiery redhead, the face partially obscured by the camera angle. Who was this kid?
I pull out the enclosed note, and another picture slips out. Another redhead. A *familiar* redhead. Shit. Was that night actually ten years ago? No one was supposed to know. I wouldn't call it a "scandal", but I can't let it get out. Not now. Not when there's too much to gain ahead of me.
So, I guess we'll be keeping each others' secrets for a while.
. . .
*Just a short one, since "your child" brought up feels of "I don't have/want children" made me think, BUT WHAT IF* :p
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jisr2rp
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jirw68p
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[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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It has long been known that the Precursors, seemingly distantly related to Humans, harnessed lost energies capable of both raising cities and leveling them. Energies so powerful that they could melt one's body into itself by mere proximity. The Radiant, as the material has been named, is rare. However, just a handful of the valuable pellets could fuel an entire city for months to even years, though how the Precursors seemingly extracted more energy than the pellets could reasonably contain is unknown. It is, of course, assumed to be arcane in nature, as with the rest of their artifacts.
The warmth, a lie.
At some point around the time of the Convergence, a turning point in Precursor history that seemed to cause a descent into madness, they locked these energies away in erratic basalt structures. Collapsed towers, corrupted Maze-Cities, platforms between hills littered with runes of danger. No one knows what caused the appearance of the Anomalies, but it is commonly understood to have been related to the subsequent downfall of the Precursors. The few who survive long enough to both enter and leave the Anomalies rarely live more than a month after returning home. Most of those survivors are Elves though, who instead usually die after a year.
The tombs, a shield.
The brightest Dwarven scholars of Dhenfaldur determined that, at some point between recent history and the Convergence, in an event known as the Cataclysm, the planet grew cold, angry, and hostile to life. It killed all but the most stalwart of plants, and its rage did not fade for decades. It is estimated that the best preserved Precursor cities fell during this time, having been spared from the original Cataclysm that all but erased the rest.
The world, a warning.
Many theories exist on what caused the Cataclysm, marking the complete disappearance of Precursor civilization, but many major proposals focus on the Broken Mountains, a range believed to have been rent apart by the Precursors. The center of this split is the largest Anomaly known to exist, a massive basalt pillar seemingly dropped from the sky, jealously guarded by the Dragons. No visitor, not even Elvish, has lasted more than a day after exploring it, but all tell stories of a distorted place so Radiant that most of the area inside has melted. Many experience the same fate, melting into their beds before poisoning their surroundings with the same Radiant Energy locked away by the Precursors.
The Radiant, a corruption.
And yet, some fools refuse to leave the Anomalies alone. Many die each year due to this, to the point that hubris and the Radiant energies have been intertwined.
In that case, perhaps lost technologies, especially those harvesting the Radiant, should remain lost, so the Cataclysm may never occur again. At least, not before we can do away with the hubris shared by the Precursors.
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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
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jf0di9e
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jey6it4
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[WP] As a child, you dreamed of helping a wounded faerie. As an adult, they returned to repay the favour.
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“This sucks.” I muttered as I stood at the pantry, eyeing the empty shelves by the light of my window. What can you cook with half a can of cornstarch and a quarter of a jar of peanut butter? I puzzled this as I walked back to the fridge and opened it to find the same things I found the last 3 times. A bit of milk in a jug, two weeks expired, an empty egg carton, and the wilted remains of what once might’ve been a salad. All I could think to do was sigh. If sleep were sustenance, I’d have a feast tonight.
I flopped down on my bed and kicked off my shoes, then curled into a ball and closed my eyes in a feeble attempt to block out the sound of my stomach growling. “Just breathe”, I thought to myself, “Concentrate on your heart beating, and you won’t feel your stomach as much.” I drew in slow, methodical breaths as I drifted off, lacking the energy to even pull a blanket over myself.
“Hey!” Shouted a small, high pitched voice right beside my head. I awoke with a start, placing a hand over my ringing ear as I sat up and looked over to see a tiny, glowing little winged girl no bigger than a Polly Pocket fluttering about a foot in front of me. “W-what…” I trailed off as I stared at her, until a question sprang to my mind. “Holy shit, did I die!?” I exclaimed. The fae laughed in reply, “not yet, but you look about halfway there! Come on, come on, come on! I have a lot planned for you!”
She flew around my room, leaving a trail of sparkling dust behind her, and effortlessly passed through my bedroom door. I followed with wavering steps, and slowly opened the door to find a field.
The scent of flowers filled my nose as I stepped through. The sun was bright in the sky, and the air filled with birds singing and squirrels and rabbits running and hopping around. Butterflies gently glided from flower to flower on a cool breeze. I walked along a stone path, following the faerie with trees towering over us.
Apples, pears, peaches, and plums so ripe they looked ready to burst where they hung. Past them, I could hear the soft babbling of a creek. Lining our path were sprawling blackberry bushes that looked as delicious as the fruit above us. “Have some!” The fae offered, “The animals won’t mind. We can stay for as long as you need.”
“Really? Thank you.” I said with a watering mouth as I reached up to twist a peach from a nearby branch. The fuzzy skin tickled my hands as I turned it about to look it over. No bugs, no bruises, no wrinkles… no mould. My fingers left the smallest dents with a squeeze. It seemed okay. I looked to the fae once more, and she smiled and sat on up on a branch as I took my first bite…
It was sweeter than candy, and gone in minutes.
The plums were equally sweet and soft, with a much thinner, glossy skin, and deeper flavor than any plum I’d had before. The blackberries popped between my teeth as I ate them, savoring each one as the brighter flavors melded with the plum. It was beautiful. Before long,
“You sure were hungry!” The fae said cheerfully, “you sure you’ve had enough? I guess it doesn’t really matter.”
“What?” I asked as she took to the air once again. She made her way to my level before replying, “Come on! I’ll show you!” Then, she flew ahead on the trail once again. And again, I followed.
A short while later, our path was blocked by a stream. The fae promptly turned and flew against the way of its current. As we walked, it got wider, flowing over larger stones, and branching off to form a multitude of smaller brooks that sang together as we made our way. It looked strangely familiar.
Soon after, we came to a weeping willow tree. The river babbled away as the fae landed on my shoulder and placed her small hand on my neck. “Do you remember this place?” She asked, her once chipper voice now solemn, and low. I racked my brain, but couldn’t remember. After a short silence, she began.
“You were playing here, a long, long time ago. You were a lot smaller back then, but you wanted to be taller. So, you climbed up and up, and found me stuck in that little cave,” she pointed to a small hole in the tree, the remnant of a long-gone woodpecker. “That big mean bird pecked through my wing, and I was stuck in there until you came along. You lowered a vine to me, and I was able to climb out. Then, your parents called you, and I didn’t get to say thanks. It took me a long while to find you.”
The fae took to the air once more, and flew up to the woodpecker hole. From it, she pulled a small, golden bell. She smiled and placed it in my hand.
“If you’re ever hungry, or lonely, or sad… if you ever need me, just ring this bell and I’ll find you. Wherever you are.”
“Well… wow.. Th-thank you… I don’t know what to say…”
“Say we’ll see each other again?”
“Yes… of course…”
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I honestly don't know what to say. I thought I could make things better, but it always blows up in my face. I haven't been going out or really talking to anyone for some time. But I heard an old friend needed some flower in a group chat I glanced at. And I heard they were in the forest. Something called Truffle flowers.
I couldn't think of a better way to reconnect. I mean I'm not saying there isn't. But I felt like this would be less sudden or awkward. And I really had to go outside again. I just didn't want to be around people though. It seems like drivers are constantly trying to get into fights with pedestrians.
There defenitely are a lot of "accidents"
I ran as fast as I could. The entrance to the forest looked rather narrow. No where as big and scary as when I first saw it as a kid. There were a few trees surround by bushy bushes. I couldn't help but shake them remembering what they looked liked on windy days.
I had some fear going off the path, but I told myself it really wasn't going to be for long. I ran and ran. And eventually found the black flowers. For whatever reason, I thought they'd be harder to pluck than they actually were. But that was the moment that I realized I was starting to get hungry.
Unfortunately, I couldn't find the path again. My feet didn't leave enough of a trail to follow. And every part I observed simply repeated. The same set of trees and rocks. I really should have taken pictures. I checked for a signal but couldn't get anything. I regret checking. I wasn't surprised but sometimes it really sucks to have stuff get definitely worse.
That's when I thought, I saw something, a shadow behind some trees. Fear gripped me at first. "hey there, can you help me out? I seem to be lost" I cried in a wavering voice. Nothing back. Maybe I'm just imagining things I thought. I started walking away. I was too afraid to run thinking I made get chased. Unfortunately, the lack of path didn't make anything better. It's as if I was cornered.
The hunger started to disappeared. And so did the adrenaline. I slumped down on a rock as soon as I saw it.
"Why are you wearing that?" I asked the girl with the raggedy dress who happened to be three inches tall and had wings. But the dress with the few holes stood out to me the most.
"I got lost in my own thoughts and got tangled in these set of thornes," she replied.
"how come your so small?" I asked.
"Because I'm a faerie," she replied.
"like tinker bell?"
"tinker bell?"
"tinker bell."
"What makes you think I tinker with bells?" she asked while squinting her eyes at me.
"I don't think she actually tinkers with bells. I think that's just her name." I replied.
"mind lending me a hand, and by lifting some of these branches while I pull?" she asked.
"good now pull that one up" she said.
The whole thing was more complicated than I originally thought it would be. I then relized there were a lot of spiderwebs in the thornes as well. Although they were quite fine, they were also really sticky. Helping her, I couldn't help but feel like a cat playing with a mouse, but in a friendly way.
And that's when I shot up. I looked around and realized that I was at the entrance of the forest again. I thought I saw an eye flashing at me. But I couldn't be sure. That dream though. I felt like I had it before when I was a kid.
that was two weeks ago. I never gave the black flower away. It's in the corner of my room, going from a dark black to pale grey. I couldn't help but think about going back there. To see her. There was a chance I wouldn't see her again. And that had its own disappointment. But there was also the risk of getting lost again, or running into something more sinister.
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jbau1u5
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jbarn4k
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[WP] The wizard in your party only knows one spell. It's effective, but even the assassin feels bad about it.
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As our party ventured deeper into the Undercity Temple, resistance grew stronger. Cultists behind doors, summoned monstrosities crawling from every crevice. Ralf took point, his massive great sword carving a swathe through the halls. Sidon, the wizard for hire the group picked up after their previous wizard became an ogre’s snack, followed closely behind.
While all wizards are strange in their own way, the deep gnome was especially off putting. His eyes glowed a light purple in darkness, and the rest of the party found his silence to be equally off putting.
As a cultist sprang for behind a pillar, Sidon barked a short word. The cultist slowed, a look of confusion spreading across his face before he was torn asunder by Ralf’s sword. A pattern emerged: Anyone that slipped past Ralf was met by the same word from Sidon. Many cultists became confused, and several began to openly weep before they were dispatched by the rest of the party. The maze of tunnels began to open up, a green reflection could be seen at the end of the hall.
Passing through the entrance, a great hall opened before us. Dozens of cultists crowded the hall, all turning to view our approach. Bows were cocked, and spells readied, as they began to move toward us. Rushing forward, his eyes now blazing a deep purple, Sidon raised his hands, his party mates hearing The Word for the first time:
“FEEL”
It seemed to echo through the chamber, resonating in a way that made it seem as though the sound was coming from all around us. Sweating profusely, Sidon spoke again, his gravely voice roaring with power.
“FEEL”
I collapsed to the ground, my mind roiling with all the evils I had ever committed. The family of elves, whose field I had burned as a youth to settle a debt. The man who’s life ended after a drunken brawl. All of it flowed through my mind, laying bare every misdeed in my past.
Struggling to my feet, I was greeted with pandemonium. Many cultists had been thrown to the floor, sobbing or screaming. Others, faced with the weight of their atrocities, chose to fall on their own swords.
Standing as tall as a gnome could, Sidon turned to me, wearing a sad smile that never reached his eyes. “Eventually, karma always makes her way around”
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"You really need to learn more spells," the assassin said, looking over the crater that was once a bandit camp. Well, he hoped they were bandits.
"I know lots of spells," the wizard said nonchalantly waving off his concern with her dainty little hand. How that tiny girl with red eyes contained such power is a mystery. "Just an explosion was the most efficient way to get them all at once."
"Hey, aren't you being a bit hard on her?" The fighter asked. The tall warrior with flowing blonde hair was easily the best looking member of the group. And easily the densest.
"Did you know if they were even bandits?" The assassin asked. "What if they had hostages? She just blew them up too!"
"Oh..." The fighter looked confused. Which was the default setting as far as the assassin could tell.
From the cave at the back of the camp came a powerful roar. A horned reptilian head snaked out on a long neck that was wearing a collar.
"See?" The assassin said gesturing at the cave. "If we scouted before we blew the place up, we would know they had a dragon. But... Gods damn it."
The wizard was already summoning magical energy into her hands. "Darkness beyond twilight, crimson beyond blood that flows...."
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k8893uo
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k887x6h
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[WP] "Yeah, my brother got possesed by a demon, but we couldn't afford an exorcist."
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They say that a person's sin makes it easier for a demon to slip in. My brother was an a** hole, a complete piece of work. Once I caught him disecting a frog in the back yard. He said it was dead when he found it, but dead animals don't bleed that much. Then, we he was ten and I was five he broke my nose because I went in his room without asking.
All of this is to say that with all of his sin, the demon put him on like a pair of pants. In the movies, you see a struggle. The young virginal girl gets corrupted. She writhes, and her body breaks. It takes weeks. My brother struggled too. He did the whole nine yards, climbing on the ceiling, speaking in tongues, cursing - though that was nothing new. But that struggle didn't last long - only a day or two.
The demon calls itself Magoth. My parents keep him locked in my brother's room, though he snapped the manacles like cheap plastic, so I doubt a door would hold him if he wanted to leave.
They don't want me to talk with Magoth. I'm not even aloud to look in the room or touch the door. I was moved to the bedroom downstairs so that I wasn't in the room next to his, but the vents connect this house. I've talked to him. He's nicer to me than my brother ever was.
I've been spending more time in my new room after school, especially when I have a bad day. It helps to have someone to talk to. My parents aren't there for me anymore. All they do is work and fight and complain. Money is an issue more than ever now. Though they almost have enough for an excercist.
I thought about breaking my leg. If they got a big bill from the hospital then they would have to put it off. Losing Magoth would be like losing an actual brother at this point. I don't want to kill my parents. I know it's one of the only options, but that seems like it would be going too far. Magoth says he understands, but he sounded a bit disappointed. I asked if there was anything else I could do. He asked to share my body. I could hide him that way. My parents wouldn't have to know and he could protect me from my shit brother.
We're playing it out right now. When the excercist comes in a week or two I'll be in my room, waiting by the vents, waiting with open arms and an open heart.
I love you Magoth!
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Derek is a high school student who is fooling around with his friends while his class is going on.
His teacher Jasmine,has been tolerating him for a while now.
But this time she lets loose.
JASMINE:
Derek, stand up! Is there something you want to share with the rest of the class?
DEREK:
No...not really. Do you?
The class erupts in laughter.
JASMINE:
Your brother Joseph was the most brilliant student I have ever known and look at you.
DEREK:
I turned out better than him though.
JASMINE:
How so?
Derek puts his head down.
DEREK:
Ohh you haven't heard? He hasn't been doing well these days. He gets rapid mood swings and tries...to kill everyone near him.
Jasmine is shocked.
DEREK:
The priest says that there's a demon inside him but...we cannot afford an exorcist.
JASMINE:
I am sorry to hear that,Derek.
DEREK:
This is one of the reasons I have been distracted in class,I am really sorry ma'am. This is no excuse for me to be indisciplined though. I will study hard and become someone great and I will hire an exorcist for my brother.
Jasmine is impressed by Derek's words.
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mlnfh41
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mlnew5e
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[WP] This sword can only be drawn as a last resort, when nothing else matters. When one's own life is worth less than the cost of vengeance. When she heard word of his death, she drew it without a moment's hesitation.
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Empty steps carried the woman into the battlefield.
She had marched ten thousand miles upon hearing her husband’s death. The courts tried to stop her. He was the Sword of Gaelia, the hundredth successor to the title— he hated it.
He hated that it sent him to battlefields. He hated having to put down lives just as human as he was. He hated fighting. His passions were of a more artistic nature— painting and singing. Hers were of combat— of the sword and its myriad of motions in any given moment.
*She met him in a field of flowers, painting them with a passion she wished she could have. His marbled blue eyes concealed a pain she wished to hold.*
*It was just a passing curiosity at first, then one meeting became two, became three, became ten, became many, became—*
Blood dripped down a clenched fist, the hand-forged ring on her finger piercing into the digit. Ash stained her white dress as she avoided disintegrating rays of light.
*‘I love you’, she thought to herself, watching him practice the forms she just taught. Dedicated— he would fight to make the lives of everyone in the country better… Fight.*
*She looked at him once more, deciding to try and paint him instead of the flowers.*
*Maybe I could fight for him.*
A sheathed sword speared through a werewolf’s heart.
*‘He has spine.’ she thought, watching him debate with the elders for the third day in a row.*
The remaining three ran away in fear. It had only been three seconds.
*He offered her a bouquet of flowers— yellow tulips, her favourite.*
*“Will you marry me?” he asked, kneeling on one knee.*
*A smiled bloomed across her face, pearly whites reflecting the sunlight.*
They trampled over a patch of flowers. She clenched her teeth.
*Her room was barren. There was nothing to move. That was fine; her home was with him anyway.*
“A-zu-ra”, she whispered with a hoarse voice. A blue light left her hand as the wilted flowers began to regain life.
*Her mother died during childbirth. Her father blamed her for it and abandoned her at five.*
Two of them died. She was never a talented mage.
*She had the eyes of the devil. No one wanted to be with her. He loved her beady yellow eyes.*
Seven more dropped, the petals joining the ashy wind.
*He had to leave. It was a posturing war— he just needed to show his face.*
*“I love you”, he said, his marbled eyes hiding a sense of fulfilment now.*
A single one survived. It was a tulip. It was white.
*He left too quickly for her to say it back.*
She marched onward.
*She’d never get the chance to say it now.*
The leader of the commanding army marched forward. Demibeasts, humans, and magical artillery she hadn’t seen before in her life all aimed at her. She didn’t care. There was only one reason she decided to stay alive.
*‘Maybe I’ll talk… to just one person before I go.’ She put the blade away from her throat and approached the silly boy painting flowers.*
It is said that the ever-sheathed sword can only be drawn as a last resort: when nothing else matters, when one's own life is worth less than the cost of **vengeance**.
*His beautiful eyes held her image— her heart— and she held his.*
*…*
*She remembered how his lifeless eyes stared into her soul.*
Some gibberish escaped the commander’s insidious little smirk. It didn’t matter.
She held the sword, ready to unsheath its blade.
The mages started chanting, war cries echoing from the demibeasts as the artillery began to glow with an ominous white light. It didn’t matter.
She drew the sword.
A line split the cruel painting in half.
|
The knights sword slid through the man pouring his blood onto the cobbled ground.
"Sebastian... " I whispered, my breath dying in my throat; My brother the last of the Oath collapsing to the ground.
The knight turned proclaiming to the crowd his now outstretched sword and motioned to the Prince.
"Fair people of Morrel" exclaimed the corwn prince " - the trecherous Oath have now been dealt with. May the world know we have been freed from these wandering thieves! ... "
The noise of the elating crowd, the breath of his horse, the whistle of the wind poured into my ears my mind screaming with the memories...
\-
My mother leant on her bed roll, her last days upon her.
"Dearest daughter" came her soft gravely voice "I had hoped you would be much older when I passed you this burdon, our peoples oath" she broke down coughing, a shift in her body as she wrestled with its fading remains "this was passed to me by my mother and hers before that, this sword was entrusted to us in peace, to walk the fields of our continant never stopping and never succumbing to battles over land and ownership".
She pulled slowly her burdon, wrapped in fraying fabric and placed it in my hands.
"Daughter, this sword must only be drawn as a last resort, when nothign else matters When one's life is worth less than the cost of vengeance."
\-
The prince turned on his horse, "Our kingdom is free and we can now secure our hold to unite the world under our banner.."
I shifted my arm releasing the burdon from my shoulder.
\-
Lying under the smoking remains of our caravan my brother turns to me "Sol there will be other caravans, we can join them at the meeting square". I looked down at the blue cloth clutched in my hand "Seb these were the kings men .." he avoided my eyes, shifting again, knowing he couldn't deny the destruction we had seen over the last months.
\-
"... FOR FREEDOM!" the princes speech ending with a thundering raw from the crowd.
The knight turned to look at me, hesitating a step. His confident stance now uncertain,
My hand now sits on the handle, the world slowing to a stand still and the crowds cheer shuddered and died.
The princes horse stops moving as he takes notice...
"Oathbreaker girl what do you have there"
I slowly pull the sword free of its wrap draining the worlds colour, the world has joined me. Still. Waiting on drawn breath as the steam starts to rise.
A whisper, unearthly, disjointed " .. freedom .."
\-
(not a writer)
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jn0sjn2
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jn0mxde
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[WP] The year is 12023, you’re writing your thesis on ancient civilizations roughly 10,000 years ago on the gods they worshipped such as Kalel; God of Justice, Zelda; Goddess of Wisdom, Batman; God of Fear, Ironman; God of Fortune and thousands more.
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*An excerpt from a presentation at the Symposium of Archaeological Professionals 2023 in Nyawkity City, performed by Archeaomaster Cwithilium, entitled* ***New Findings in Second Age Religion***
*Archaeomaster Cwithilium:* The discussion on sectarianism and syncretism is a perfect segue, I think, into our last topic before I open it up for questions. Now, if you're not really dialed into the archaeological news you might not have heard of this, because we're not set to publish this month. Don't tell anyone I told you.
*Archaeomaster Cwithilium winks. Light chuckles from the audience.*
*A free-floating holographic image appears on stage, of the dilapidated ruins of a building.*
*Archaeomaster Cwithilium:* Doesn't look like much, does it?
What we have here are the remains of a store meant for the distribution of religious artifacts. Remarkably, there are *dozens* of pantheons and faiths represented, and tens of thousands of religious materials recovered. Our forthcoming paper outlines the details of how we came to this conclusion in a more robust way, but this indicates a major commercial component to late Second Age worship.
Slide?
*A free-floating holographic image of several pamphlets appears.*
*Archaeomaster Cwithilium:* These are some of the most intact relics recovered from the site. You'll note first that these were all printed on paper. Paper seems to have been a *heavily* preferred medium for transmitting the legends of the Second Age, perhaps even moreso than digital media or clay. The findings from this site confirm it as, outside of a few instances of digital media and poseable statuary, almost all of the legendaria recovered are in the form of these pamphlets, or in paper cards. We are still picking through the heavily degraded remains, but there may have been more than twenty thousand instances of these pamphlets in the care of this store.
These pamphlets are a few that were recovered mostly intact, as they were wrapped in plastic. Several of the plastic coverings were marked with epithets like "hot" and "collecting item"; we're still working out the meaning of these specifically.
You'll note that the pamphlets on display here are all from diverse faiths... I remind you, that these were all from the same building. The text on the cover of this pamphlet indicate it is about "the Human Bat", a Deesee figure. On this, "the Human Spider", a popular Moral figure. Most interestingly, the texts on third one indicate that Xism figures and members of the Vengeful pantheon were contemporaries, and intereacted. The societal implications of this are remarkable.
One of the biggest finds of this dig were four containers all containing exact copies of X-Force #1.
*Several audible noises from those in the archaeological professional section.*
*Archaeomaster Cwithilium:* For the benefit of our laypeople in the room--one of the most useful proxies for popularity in long-dead societies for old texts is how many specimens we can recover. So we understand *The Odyssey* to have been extremely popular in the First Age due to the number of complete manuscripts we've recovered. We understand the same of the hymnal band The Eagles due to how many cassettes of their *Greatest Hits* are found.
Given that every cache of the holy religious pamphlets that we've found has at minimum contained one copy and usually dozens, this is confirming evidence to the theory that X-Force was the most important of all religious figures in the Second Age, including Mario and Brian Cox.
Alright, we have plenty of time for questions, so if we can just form a line...
*sounds of people shuffling into line*
*Questioner:* Archaeomaster, what are your thoughts on the theory, proposed by Iwujumbic and Bookleshwearmer, among others, that the Thousand Pantheons of the Second Age weren't actually figures of worship? That they were just meant as entertainment?
*Archaeomaster Cwithilium:* No. No. Preposterous. What civilization would spend all this money and effort on these things if they weren't as important as gods?
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I lazily tapped my finger against my desk. Deadline’s tonight and I have barely written a word. I gazed at the small paragraph that I had written, willing it to grow but it wouldn’t listen. I stared around me at the various 21st century deities. Iron man with his mythical armour, Kalel a god thought to have fallen from heaven and others.Now that I think about it, I haven’t slept in a long time . . .Sleep is super . . . Important . . .
I snap back. That was close. I almost fell asleep.“Sam, what are doing drink up.” I look around confused only to find the grinning face of Thor.“Of course! The celebrations just begun!” I raise my beer jug to my lips and drink heartily.There was something important I had to do but if I forgot it then it can’t be that important. . .
“Iron man, Kalel come join us.”
They enter from outside the great hall and sit down on sofas beside us.
“Save some for the rest of us would you.” Said Iron ManThor leaned on Kalel’s shoulder.
“Thor.” Said Kalel Sternly. “You really shouldn’t be drinking this much.
“Don’t be such a party pooper son of Krypton.” Whined Thor,
I guffawed.
“See, Sam’s enjoying himself.” Said Thor
“Here’s the thing.” Said Thor. “You gotta live sometimes, you’re too serious Kalel!”
"Justice never rests." Said Kalel
"I'll send someone out." Replied Thor. "My guys can handle it for a while, just sit back and have fun"
Kalel sighed before reaching a jug and swiftly in one movement.
“That’s the spirit!”
“Hey, let me show you a magic trick.” Said Thor
“Oh boy.” Said Iron man.
“I think there’s something here.” Said Thor, reaching behind Kalel’s ear.He withdrew his hand now holding a hammer.
“We’ve seen it a million times.” I say but I can’t help but laugh.
“You should really clean your ears more.” Said Thor, in a falsely motherly tone.Thor began throwing his hammer in the air repeatedly before catching it.I grab another jug from the table.
“-Watch out S-”
I glance up to see the hammer smash into my face.
“Oww!” I said grabbing my forehead to ease the pain.I slide back in my chair.I can hear the sound of a party on another floor outside my dorm. My eyes adjust to the light of my dorm room.“Hey Sam, “ Said a figure dressed as Thor, wearing cardboard armor.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you with it.” I handed back the small plastic hammer that I had been struck with.
“What are you doing here? The parties have already started. It's Avenger Fest.”“I’m studying Percy.” I replied.
“And its not the avengers fest, the avengers fest does not include many 21st century Gods. “
“Studying? You were clearly sleeping,”
“I’m getting to it.” I turned on the computer again.
“You gotta live a little, I came all the way up here to get you.”
I paused. Where had I heard those words before. “Fine, I’ll go.”
“Yes!” Exclaims Percy. “I thought you could be Kalel and Grim is outside, he’s dressed as Mickey Mouse.”I turned off the screen before following him out.
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m72nvwt
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m71clyg
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[WP] Guy lives alone in a world full of people, no one can see or hear him, he lives his days alone until one day he find another person, another person alone in this world with him. They fall in love but then he phases back into the world, everyone can see him again, but he can’t see her.
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She was back again. The mortal woman who had found my shrine so long ago.
She sat, allowing the weight off her legs with a pained noise I'd not heard her make before. She was older than I'd ever seen her, and not just in her face but I could sense it in the rest of her. In her bones, just as I could sense something decaying there, something slowly, maliciously draining her. Something malignant.
"It's weird isn't it, that no matter how old I get, I always feel like I need you, mom"
I didnt answer. She wasn't addressing me, she'd never addressed me, I dont think she'd ever really known there was a me to address. She found my stone on this day seventy years ago, on her birthday, when her mother had died. I could feel the sheer emptiness she had then, the dull ache that never quite left her. Over the years, she'd not filled the emptiness but she'd grown larger around it, the hole less noticable. She'd come back every year, to tell her mother all she'd missed, and though i never knew how she had stumbled across this stone of mine I could only presume she felt my presence and knew me. God of Grief.
I'd never dared send her away, perhaps to God of Healing or Hope, because she never seemed like she needed them in the way she needed me. This time in my presence, to talk to her lost mother.
"I don't want to leave them. I don't want them to feel what I felt when I lost you."
I wanted to tell her they wouldn't. That from what I knew of her, she had raised her children in a way that meant they knew her love and couldn't doubt it. She had been able to give them the time she didn't have with her own mother. No one would ever be ready for loss, but they would be okay.
"Perhaps they are better prepared than i ever was though. I should tell them I am dying, I should let them say goodbye. But I am so scared, mom. So afraid. "
I wasn't supposed to interfere. My shrine was so small because I'd spent too much power meddling before. I'd gone forgotten precisely because of it. There was little left of me, but this woman, who would die soon, I could give her one last kindness.
I willed myself into being, light taking the form of her mother, as young as the day she'd lost her. She burst into tears but didn't reach for me, as if she knew I was not really there. I smiled, I couldn't speak in this body, but I bid her to stand. I sent her a wave of power that I knew would settle in her temporarily, something that would give her courage and comfort. A parting gift, from not-really her mother.
"Thank you. I'd forgotten what she looked like"
She addressed me, directly, for the first and last time. I wonder if she knew that in doing so, she gave me more than that power back. She shifted the small outcropping of rocks a few inches higher from the earth.
"I'll tell them about this place. Expect some new visitors soon" she smiled sadly but departed with more ease than she had arrived with. I counted her steps away from me and remained in that shimmering motherly form in case she wanted to look back at all. She didn't.
|
It's already 2100. 2100... And My faith has already been so swiftly forgotten.
Crosses, they used to adorn My houses, everywhere across the world. Well now, they don't. My faith has been so forsaken and despised, that they don't even use "+" for addition in Mathematics anymore. They just use the word "plus" or the phrase "added to".
The last Bible was printed in 2073. The last hymn was sung in 2076, and the last praise song sung in 2079. Earth's last church officially ceased to exist in the same year, 2079.
Since then all worship of Me has ceased. No one remembers Jehovah. The Trinity. Yahweh. Jesus Christ the Saviour.
Except you, dear child. My dear dear daughter in spirit, Deborah Mary Samynathan.
I thank you for remembering Me. For still coming to this small alcove that has a small stone cross in it, to pray to Me and beg Me to have mercy on this increasingly depraved world. You give Me hope. Hope that among mankind, My beloved creations, good may still silently exist. Hope that this good may yet rise again one day.
And now this year, you have come to visit Me again. It is Easter. And I remember that now you are 21. You are grown now. You are an adult, and I think you are ready for My gift to you.
Take now, the strength of Samson, the power of Elijah, the insight of Paul, the righteousness of Moses, the integrity of Joseph and the triumphancy of Joshua. Receive, now, SPIRIT.
Now, go forth My faithful daughter. Declare My faith and lend voice to that which has been silent. I will go and wage war against Lucifer, who will seek to stop you. I know, this means that you may stop feeling My presence near you for awhile.
But do not fear, dear daughter. We will be separated only for a little while. Once the victory is won by the power of My blood, I will reveal myself to this fallen world. And you will be vindicated for your faith in Me.
Be blessed now, dear daughter, and go forth to victory.
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l3i40em
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l3hqnw5
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[WP]Your mother sold her firstborn to a witch in exchange for beauty and your father sold his firstborn to a fairy for wealth. Today you are born.
|
You'd think I'd be taken away, but I wasn't... you see, my parents found odd workarounds.
Even though I was their first child together, my mom had a still born before me, the witch try to wezzel her way out of taking it but there was nothing about my mom's first born having to be alive... although it did mess her up very much to the point where she almost became a witch hunter. She fought tooth and nail for me once I was born. The witch tried to take me, but my father's fea didn't let her, dragging her o a magical court.
The court battle was brutal, but here's the funniest thing at the end-
The fea didn't have rights to me either. She got my mom out of trouble with her witch, only to find out my dad DOOPED her!
You see, even though my mom's firstborn wasn't biologically my dad's, he did claim that child to be his regardless because he knew that if he didn't, if he and my mom successfully had a child together, the fea can take me. Of course he didn't tell the fea that but the fea didn't needed to know that exact information.
There is nothing in their contract that said my dad's firstborn had to be biologically his. A firstborn, by definition, can be someone's first child, and that doesn't mean they'd be biologically related.
Sure, the argument is that it's implied to be biological but it's implied that if the baby wasn't a still born, my dad would count him as his own and he would have never tried for another child as he was satisfied with the one, (which given my lack of siblings even to this day, I can see happening). This meant that if the fea never counts that, the fea would have to take back all the wealth- most of which already was put into stocks, bonds and other ways that can't be taken back since his bank account had only a few thousand compared to the millions the fea gave. If the fea stole the millions back, she'd have to argue against DRAGONS in court... and uh... even with how civil they are, there is a reason the dragons own every bank now...
So basically, my mom lucked out (although lost a piece of her sanity purely on accident), and my dad became an affective fea lawyer in only a day.
I still have no little siblings, but the fea and witches are afraid to even come near me after that trial. I love my parents but man are my parents messed up. Still love them though.
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Today is the fourteenth month of the eighth year of the reign of King Dirodan. Today is the day I am born. I was born in the early morning as day was dawning.
It’s a beautiful baby girl! Her almost shrill cries pushing out the rest of the amniotic fluid, and her delicate little body shaking in the sudden cold. She is swaddled and laid in her mother’s arms. This however is not a happy time.
A Faerie strode in through the door. He stared my parents up and down. “Your dues,” he said, “must be paid.” He extended a long arm made of oak wood. My parents gave me to him, and then more fae descended on my parents. My mother got the beauty she always wanted, and my father was showered in gold and silver. It seemed that whatever terrible feeling they had mere moments ago was all forgotten. They reveled in the joy of having their contract upheld.
I was raised away from civilization. I was raised in the Feywild. I have learned things. Deep magics, secrets too terrible to tell… and how to cook a good mushroom stew. The Fae named me Moon-Rock, and gave me my home.
But while the Fae make deals and people make promises, one thing they always told me to remember. We are not a daycare. Quit promising your firstborn.
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jdbcqfq
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jd9v61h
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[WP] A mark on your forehead identifies the god you must worship to stay alive, usually by joining its local church or temple. Your mark is unknown, meaning an old, forgotten god sponsored you. To survive, you must either find an old temple to worship at, or do the arduous task of building a new one
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When multi-millionaire Alfred Talbot Jr suddenly found a mark of an unknown god on his forehead and announced his resignation, the whole world was taken by surprise.
While the public at large was busy gossiping, occult detective Katrina Watson was busy poring through a well-known publication of the Holy Inquisition, Annals of the Pantheons, trying to find a god's mark or sigil that matched the one on Alfred's forehead. Alfred's co-founder had hired her to investigate what was happening; citing an old tale where marked chosen ones must worship to stay alive or risk a horrible death. He feared the worst, that he could lose his best friend and co-founder before Alfred could even find the god in question or the right way to worship the god.
So she spent her days tailing Alfred as he drove around the countryside, stopping at every seaside village and town to ask the locals questions about the inky black mark on his forehead. He never stayed for longer than a few days, leaving each village and town with a dejected look on his face.
He hasn't left this fishing village in over a week, constantly pacing back and forth between the Dancing Crab Inn and a burned, abandoned building, standing all alone by itself at the top of a hill. Alfred spent most of his time trying to piece together broken pieces of stone at the base of the building with various tools he bought from the general store.
Katrina saw it was time to make her move.
"Hello Mr. Talbot, I'm Katrina, an occult detective hired by your partner Mr. Andrews to assist you."
"Good, finally someone who knows a little about the supernatural world." Alfred gave her a firm handshake. "Nobody recognizes this mark on my head, my only lead is that a villager told me this is probably the sigil of a god of the seas, given the wavy appearance. But this sigil doesn't match anything in the Pantheon Database. It's as though this god was scrubbed clean from historical records."
"Why this building, Mr Talbot?" Katrina asked.
Alfred told her how an old compass his grandfather passed down to him started glowing mysteriously when he arrived at the village. He spoke of what he found out from the villagers. This building was once a pagan church, burnt down by the Holy Inquisition for worshipping an evil eldritch god and carrying out the illegal practice of human sacrifice centuries ago. The story was that they left no followers alive and completely wiped out the religion, leaving nothing behind but the briefest mention of an unknown god with no name and a scorched, ruined church nobody would pay to tear down.
Exactly what he was looking for. So he spent his time repairing the altar in the middle of the ruins but had absolutely no clue what he could offer to a god who supposedly demanded human sacrifices.
"Try a lamb, Mr. Talbot. Maybe we could drive down to the nearest sheep farm and buy a lamb."
Alfred shook his head. "I don't think this is an Abrahamic god at all. If he or she were, I would not be stuck here."
So they bought a live lamb and paid the farmer to transport the little thing to the altar. The farmer scratched his head but asked no questions. Alfred and Katrina tied the lamb and hoisted it on the top of the newly repaired altar.
"Mr. Talbot, any prayers you recommend? I've been a naytheist all my life. Never had a god mark me or desire anything from me."
Alfred wasn't responding, only gazing into the faraway nowhere as a black abyssal portal pooled out beneath the altar and dark tendrils emerged to pull the lamb in. He wasn't there with Katrina.
For he was staring into the abyss when it stared back with a pair of deep violet eyes. He found himself gazing into a mesmerizing sea of stars scattered across the endless night sky, bare feet trudging along the ebony sand along the shores of a blackened sea darker than the night.
A sea of serenity and calm came over him as the ashen waves of the black sea washed over him. he could feel abyssal magic flowing into his mind, infusing him with a sliver of knowledge of his god. A barely audible whisper echoed in his ears, instilling in him a burning passion for the arduous task that lay ahead of him. A strong sense of purpose he never found before.
"Why am I your chosen one," Alfred asked. "Will it kill me if I refuse?" But the whispers were already fading, for his god was terribly weakened.
"ALFRED ARE YOU WITH ME?" Katrina shouted while shaking him with both her hands on his shoulders.
"Yes. Katrina. I have a god who needs so much help. My god was exiled from his pantheon. The Holy Inquisition has wronged him, they could not look past his eldritch appearance or his past when they persecuted him and erased him from their annals of the gods. They have robbed him of his artifacts of power. Tore his body asunder. Murdered his followers, even young children who could not fight back. As his chosen one and anointed head priest, I will rebuild his body, rebuild his church, and rebuild his place in this world."
"Mr. Talbot, so you're telling me your god is some flavor of 'not evil just misunderstood'. Look, as long as Mr. Andrews is paying, I'll help you. That stuff you said, it all sounds very cool and awesome, I really feel your roaring gungho vibe here, but did you get your god's name?"
"He asked me to call him Lord Elvari."
-------------------------------------------
[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/)
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Dagon watched from the cliffs, deep in thought, as the priest-ships came into port and began disgorging their cargo; barrels of leviathan oil, slabs of sea-serpent meat, and bloody Oceanides with the harpoons that killed them still stuck fast in their flesh.
It had been days since he'd last eaten anything - since the Sign appeared on his forehead - and even the sharp, iron scent of the butchering wafting up from below made his stomach growl in protest.
Even so, he remained where he was. It was bad luck for a Prester to eat anything from the priest-ships before he'd reaped something from his god's harvest, and bad luck was as real a god as any other out at sea. He'd heard stories of hunting ketches cracking apart without a storm or serpent in sight because someone on board had broken that rule - or one of the countless others.
Another ship slowed to a stop by the docks - this one hauling an entire leviathan's bloodied bulk behind it - to the cheers of a crowd of assembled laymen, and Dagon turned away as they began to carve into its hide.
Dagon could be thankful for one thing his cursed Sign afforded him - it meant he slept in the shipyards with the other Presters. Unlike his old home with his fisherfolk parents, the lodges at the shipyard were sturdy and caulked well enough to keep the sea breeze out. Thick, woven blankets and a fire-pit kept him warm while a thatched roof kept him dry.
He missed his family and their ramshackle little hut regardless. At least there, he wasn't alone, shunted off into a dark corner while others reveled and feasted. At least he wouldn't have to pretend he was asleep while the smell of roasting god-flesh drowned his senses and made him delirious with hunger. Urged him to fight the rest of his brothers for his place at their table. For *his* god.
It was bad luck to hurt a Prester. The kind of bad luck that saw hunters fall overboard.
Dagon wished he could speak to his god, ask it what he was supposed to be hunting - what the sign on his face was supposed to be. Even just give him a hint to start him down the right path. Even if it was a new god - one without a Temple-Fleet he could join - it would be enough to get him started. He'd beg one of the others to take him on until he could find other Presters with the same fate; one of the Whalers' ketches maybe? They needed every hand they could get with the size of their prey. Or one of the Devilfish! There were so few of them, Dagon was sure they'd welcome another hand, even if he'd be after a different catch!
He just needed something to eat. He'd gotten so desperate he had piled stones inland as a makeshift butcher's table and slaughtered a rabbit on it, but it turned rancid the moment he put it in his stew pot. It was bad luck, following him like a dog at his heels.
If Dagon was going to stay alive, his god needed him to feel the salt wind on his face and the water lapping at his skin.
None of the boats wanted him. Even the ones willing to take on a pariah like him turned him down after taking one look at him, a hide-bag of bone and sinew.
With every rejection, Dagon's empty belly snarled louder and louder until it was all he could hear, and when the last captain - a grizzled old Kraken-slayer, by the twisted, curling sigil on his brow - said no, Dagon killed him.
Dagon fought his crew like a starving dog, every blow cracking bone and bruising flesh, but desperation kept him on his feet while the Kraken-slayer's men, one by one, fell away.
When he was finally alone on the sand, Dagon pushed his new boat out into the water. He ignored the holy waters and passed by Sirens as they sunned themselves on the rocks.
His eyes were on the men bobbing in a raft straight ahead, hauling their own thrashing prize aboard.
In the village center, a new god's standing stone was being erected, between the Kraken's Knot and the Whale-Tail, facing the Mermaid and standing behind the Thornback. Prester and layman alike murmured among themselves, perturbed by the ill-boding appearance of the stone bearing the new sigil.
The Flenser-Thief. Where the Whale-Tail was polished with Leviathan oil, the Kraken's Knot festooned in dried tentacles, the Mermaid shrouded with Oceanid scales, and the Thornback crowned with Devilfish tails-
The Flenser-Thief was daubed in Presters' blood.
It would be a priesthood that hunted men.
It would be bad luck to meet a Flenser-Thief.
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jttjxq2
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jtt241f
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[WP] Death Row Inmates can have their sentence abolished if they can handle a single night in the same cell as you; the most innocent looking person they've ever seen.
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He couldn't believe the offer was real. "A single night with a well dressed, friendly looking man? How hard could it be?" That's what they all think. He agreed to the deal and the guard brought him up to my cell.
"It does seem a lot creepier coming closer" the new inmate thought, "and you can't even see the back of the cell". I slowly stood up and walked towards them as the guard opened the door. "Why isn't it locked?" the inmate thought?
"Because it's not needed" I said to him. Confused he looked back, but the guard was already gone. "What is going on here?" he mumbled. "You're here to get what you deserve."
The voice didn't seem to come from anywhere. It just formed in the inmates mind. He spun around, looking directly into my face. I still smiled politely, while my face slowly started to melt. He took a step back, looking at me in horror. "What's the matter Robert? You seemed to enjoy this sight, when you poured acid over your victims"
"Who told you?" he cried out "Who told you my real name? Not even the police know my real name!"
"Oh, I know so much more, Robert. For instance how you tortured some of your victims, before you finally gave them the killing blow."
I laughed as his face grimaced in terror. In the blink of an eye, I burst into a mixture of flesh and blood, completely engulfing him in just a few moments. His screams got soon replaced by the sound of gargling. He fought as hard as he could, but he didn't stand a chance.
Just as he thought it was over, he found himself lying on the floor of a warehouse. He looked around and he seemed to remember this place. This is where he committed his first murder. In the corner of his eyes, he saw a man wearing a hoodie come closer. He recognized the hoodie as well. It was himself. He tried to talk, but the voice was not his own and the man didn't listen anyway".
When the guard arrived at the cell at the next day, I was already up, waiting at the bench, with the same smile as the day before. In the back of the cell, there was a person cowering. The guard almost didn't recognize him. His skin turned pale and his hair turned grey. Big bald spots where visible where he had ripped his own hair out.
A shiver went down the guards spine as he entered the cell to collect the inmate. "You wont need them." I said, as he tried to get his cuffs out.
"It's protocol" the guard said. "But his soul already left." I said, sounding real proud of my work.
"What do you mean, his soul left?" the guard asks.
I smiled. "Most souls don't come back, after being tortured for eternity!"
"For eternity?" the guard asked confused?
"Well, I condensed it into a few hours. Nothing you would understand, mortal. Let's just say, everyone gets what they deserve in the end. They don't call me the devil for nothing!"
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***Warning: Explicit description of phycological attacks and mention of previous murders. Viewer discretion is advised.***
\-----
"... And think of your mother. Your poor mother, who cried until she fainted in your trial. Do you know how she's doing now?"
"S-Stop. Stop it!"
"She locked herself in the room all day and night, refusing to eat or drink. She cried and screamed and wished it was all but a bad dream, that her sweet child didn't do anything wrong. Then, one day, she started puking blood and collapsed on the floor. Oh, the unbearable pain is crushing her fragile form. You are killing her from the inside. You did this to your own mother."
"No, you're lying..."
"Your mother is becoming a mad woman because of you. You are the one who is causing her all this suffering, you disgraceful scumbag. Your neighbors are avoiding your house like the plague, but they can still hear her screams at midnight."
"Stop- Stop! I said *STOP!!!*"
The yell echoed in the cell room, and I'm sure the guards hear it from outside too. I sit cross-legged on the bench, eyeing the man who had crumbled to the floor, hands holding his head. This man had gotten knocked down to his knees, trembling like a leaf. How cute.
"People are whispering, you know? They said, 'Look at that old hag, her son is a murderer,' 'He got the death sentence this morning,' 'I'm glad I've kept my kids away from those barbarians.' And your mother heard it all, every single word, and she's at the end of her wits now. Maybe a noose seize tight around the neck wouldn't be so bad."
"Please... stop..."
"Relax, pal. It's not even past eight yet," I laughed, "Now, where were we?"
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jhlk6dt
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jhlex7m
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[WP] "There are three rules for mind-readers..." The man speaks sternly. "Don't read loved ones, don't reveal your powers, and NEVER try to read animals." He shivers a bit. "You probably think that last part is a joke but trust me; one glimpse into a horse and you won't be right for a week."
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A rabbit spasmed in my arms, its white legs twitching as I held it snugly. It had fallen from a brick wall, and in its eyes, I saw tremendous fear. Such a terror was the worst enemy of these creatures, they could become afraid enough that it could kill them outright. I could heal the wounds to its legs, but I could not restore it from the grave. My instinct was wholly to save it, and the wise words of my mentor were lost on me when I entered its mind; all I wanted to do was calm its nerves, to comfort it, as we would all wish to be comforted.
Through the doorway I expected the emotions of a shivering child; tears and screams. Instead, there was nothing but bright white. In the pointed center of my vision, I saw a gold dot. As I walked closer, it took on the form of a golden ring. When I stood in front of it, I could see a pale translucent red material in the middle. Only when it blinked did I realize it was an eye.
I gasped and stepped back, reaching for my wand in my pocket but realizing that I had no form. This was strange, for I always had a form in my subjects.
Then the eye turned an opaque gray. Shapes came from the edges and began to coalesce. The first thing I noticed was the jade color of my boots, then the rest of the castle garden came into focus. My feet were swinging back and forth like the pendulum of a clock. I was so entranced in the image that I almost didn't see words forming outside of the eye in the whitespace. "Elves are so difficult to work with." "Argh!" "Why did that wand cost me an extra two gold?"
Strange, I thought, for these were clearly *my own* thoughts. How?
The more they appeared, the more I realized that the rabbit knew absolutely everything about me. Nothing was spared, from my deepest fantasies to my most banal mutterings about the weather.
*But...* It couldn't be the rabbit. I'd never seen it before, I just encountered it while I was... sitting on the wall. It stumbled, then fell, then I leaped after it to save it. How was this possible? Where were the emotions? The terror? The scared little bunny whom I was about to save?
The scene on the wall played back in my mind again and again, and as it did, it slowly occurred to me that things might not have happened the way I thought. Who fell first? Did I fall first? Could the rabbit have leaped... to save me? No, not at all possible. Rabbits don't possess that kind of intelligence.
Or do they?
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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With the exception of the second one, these seem arbitrary
They are there for a reason
That being?
You don't want to know what your loved ones are thinking,the last time someone disregard that they fell into a depression and killed themselves a month after(kinda happens when your SO is a Piece of shit)
And the one with the animals?
I'm not gonna think of it,otherwise it will spread to you too
It can't be that bad Right?(is he exaggerating?)
I'm not
20 bucks says your just weak
Deal,but please don't do it with any predator,try a herbivore first,fine I'll just see some sheep then
A week later
*Slams 20 dollars on the table* what was that?
We don't know,most people kill themselves before they explain
*Looks around nervous for ANY animal* since when do all animals have become Eldridge abominations,of the n dimension?
Probably forever,since these rules have been in place forever
Why didn't you tell me?
Because you wouldn't listen(not the first time)
What you mean not the first time?
You thing you're the first person to get warned about it and still went through?
No, but seems like it wasn't the second or the third time this happened either, was it?
Nah,your is probably shy of the millionth time this decade
That doesn't explains why you don't take bigger precautions
Already tried it, so give it a rest
Fine( i wonder if a had seen a preda-)
Don't
Wh-
I SAID DON'T
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keffmbs
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keez74m
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[WP] In all of the land, none are more respected than Dragon Rider's. Today you just received your Dragon, the problem is, your species is the most hated of all.
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Few could guess why we were not wiped out, following the war.
Lands stolen, families divided, homes destroyed. Vermin, they called us, nothing more than a plague, forced into servitude rather than being put to the sword.
The laws do not apply to us, there is no grace given to the dregs of society. Speak out, and have your tongue removed. Reach out, and have your hand taken. Step one claw out of line, and say farewell to your foot.
It was the dragon riders that we saw as our land was razed, it was the dragon riders that we saw as our lives were irrevocably changed. It was the cruel mercy of the dragon riders that we still drew breath, only to be collared and dragged about. It is all we can do to survive with so little given to us, but we do not debase ourselves with the barbarism of Humans, the strength of the Kobold is in its warren.
Each day, we are drenched in water before we are carted out of the kennels. No singular job is given to an individual, the Humans can't be bothered to keep track of us, thus one day you'll be shoveling shit, and the next you'll be forced to hold linens for hours on end.
Today, I was hauled before the dragon riders, who did not deign to so much as look at me, the magics that bound the collar tightly around my neck would choke me if I so much as snarled at them. I simply grabbed the brushes and buckets of water and began scrubbing the floors.
*'You...'*
The voice was soft, we are expected to pay attention when addressed, I looked up, but saw only the dragon riders talking among themselves. Nobody spoke to me, nobody so much as spared me a glance, and the gradual tightening of the collar indicated stopping was against my duties.
I ignored the voice and resumed.
*'Your soul burns with the flame of justice...'*
I paused again, uncertainty creeping into my mind as I looked around for the speaker. I could not stop and investigate, but the fact that I was being addressed by seemingly nobody was concerning. Was this madness, had the Humans finally broken me?
*'What have they done to you..?'*
A Human entered the room, tracking mud across the floor that I would have to clean. "Everyone, one of the eggs is about to hatch!"
There was a bustle of movement as the room emptied. I resumed my cleaning, starting with the mud that had been so cruelly smeared into the stone floor. By the time I had the whole floor scrubbed, the dragon riders returned, bearing a scarlet egg upon a pillow. Even from my vantage, I could see the egg moving.
"It's getting ready to hatch." One of the Humans spoke. "The one it has chosen is within the city."
It wasn't long before more Humans came, all of them excited, their eyes filled with hope and ambition in equal measure. I was required to bring them food and drink when ordered to, I could feel my stomach rumbling at the mere sight of fresh bread, not a speck of mold upon it, not a maggot in sight.
*'None of them will leave here with their wish fulfilled. Come.'*
I felt the magic of the collar react to the order, I felt drawn toward the egg, and the tightening of the collar told me I could not ignore this. A child reached for the egg, the disappointment was palpable on his face. A male touched it, there was bitterness in his eyes.
"Kobold, food." A Human said. I went to bring the tray of food over to him, but the collar snapped tight around my neck, causing me to stumble and drop the tray. I trembled as it loosened, there were few orders that could override the orders of a Human.
*'Come.'*
There were murmurs as I continued walking toward the egg, a few dragon riders noticed my movements. "Back to your corner, Kobold."
I did not listen, I continued walking toward the egg. A dragon rider approached me with his sword drawn, "Disobedient little shit!" He snapped, raising his weapon. There was a moment that something happened, I can barely understand it. It was as if for that moment, my heart beat a little louder, and the sword struck the very air, as if frozen in space.
I continued to walk, and stood but a few footsteps away. I reached out, another sword failed to strike me as I laid my hand upon the egg, and it cracked.
The silence that fell was deafening, as the hatchling wormed its way out of the shell, and pressed its head against my hand. The first thing that hit me, as I felt a connection form between me and the dragon, was pure love. It was the same love as when one of my own people would forego their meager ration to ensure their hatchling could eat, it was the same love as when they would bring water-laden moss so the sick could have something to drink.
I took the dragon in my arms, and I wept in the face of such total and unyielding love.
"Abomination!" A Human approached, I could feel the jet of fire the dragon breathed at them, forcing them to back away, I could feel the sudden strain of the collar against my neck, before it was finally, mercifully loosened.
*'I am yours, and you are mine. I shall defend you until my dying breath, I shall see you free so long as I live. Name me.'*
*"Draezen."* I uttered. Freedom.
Draezen alit my shoulder, and I turned to face the gathered Humans, who stared at me with fear and hatred. The dragon riders stared at me with uncomprehension, in their eyes, dragons were destined to bond with Humans.
Roars filled the air, several thundering thuds sounded from outside.
*'Walk forward, pay them no heed. It is not their welcome you need concern yourself with.'*
I took a step forward, the Humans backed away from me, driven off by the glare of my dragon. One foot in front of the other, until I reached the double doors that led outside. There was a rush within my very being as the doors swung open, and just outside, dragons sat on either side of the path leading into the city. I took another step forward, and as I walked, the dragons bowed their heads as I passed.
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I stared amused as the small Amethyst hatchling awkwardly waddled around the room I had been given. It was clearly content for a moment to simply explore the room, though it was rather plain by most standards. A bed, which I sat on, hard wood floors, with a red carpet the bed sat atop, a bookcase, a small fireplace, and a desk with a quill and inkwell atop it. A chair at the desk closed out the room. I watched as the dragon awkwardly climbed the leg of the chair to see on top of the desk. It became interested in the quill and attempted to climb higher in order to reach the interesting feather.
"- Know what he is." My hearing perked as I heard a distant voice. I listened as another, whom I recognized as the Rider Comac responded. "Yes, I know exactly what he is. But the orders were clear. If the dragon chose him, he was to be a Rider." The voice responded with venom. "Not. A fucking. Furshifter." The word struck me with sadness. The hatchling turned to me and chirped concerned. I feigned a smile. "I'm okay, bud..."
"DON'T CALL HIM THAT!"
"You'll regret this Comac. That dragon will grow to be just a mindless beast like that thing if you allow this, and then we'll have two murderous bloodlust fuelled creatures to deal with. This is on you. You can stop it before they kill everyone." I felt tears start dripping from my cheeks as my dragon growled at the voices. He turned to me and cocked his head before leaping from the desk to the bed, his wings carrying him in a glide. As he landed, he chirped again before gently nuzzling my arm. I felt more tears as a feeling of love, and trust began to fill my mind. I gently lifted him and hugged him. The hatchling hummed and licked my cheek clean of tears gently. The silence was broken with a knock at the door. I took a moment as i tried to control my tears long enough to answer. It opened a minute later as Comac entered. He glanced at me a moment. "I take it you heard that..." I glanced at him silently and shrugged. "Why do you care? I'll probably just kill everyone anyway, right..." Comac stepped inside and closed the door. He silently approached and sat by me on the bed. "That's not what you are though, is it Ionakana?" I stayed silent, trying to focus on my dragon as it again nuzzled me. "I had doubts about the stories of Werewolves, honestly. I mean, you've lived in this city for how many years? 5, 6?"
"7." I replied as I ran my hand across the Hatchling's back. "Right.. and how many have you killed in a blood fuelled rage?" I glanced at Comac. "The way I see it, either you're the most calm Werewolf I've ever seen, you're really good at hiding it and that Dragon has the absolute worst judge of character I have ever seen, or the stories about your kind are bullshit." I glanced at him as he gave me an inquisical look. "So which is it?" I kissed the Hatchling's head again as he nuzzled me, still trying to comfort me. "Bullshit." He laughed softly. "Thought so. Listen, you can never change how others are. But you CAN change how they perceive you. It just takes time. I don't care what anyone thinks about me. Neither should you." I chuckled darkly. "If you're hated, you don't get hunted every night." The words took him aback a moment. "No.. no, I suppose I don't. But I also know how it feels to have no one and nothing. I was once like you. Homeless, starving, getting whipped, or locked in a cell every other month after trying to steal to stay alive. It's not an easy life. And likely less so as a Werewolf."
"It is.. do you... do you think anyone will ever accept me for what I am?" Comac smiled softly. "3 already have. Your Dragon accepts you. My dragon accepts you. And I accept you. You are a Rider. From this moment on. Until the day you or your Dragon cross the ethereal plain. You are a Dragon Rider, and no one, not the people, not the ignorant, The King, not even God himself, can change that this Dragon has seen you. The true you. Down to your barest of self, and chosen not a Human, nor Elf, nor Orc or even Dwarf. But you. A Werewolf as his Rider." I glanced at the Hatchling in my arms as he rested his head against my chest. "If that isn't acceptance and love, then someone needs to teach me what it is because I don't know what it really is." I smiled softly as I considered Comac's words. He was right. For better or worse, this Dragon chose me, and in the short few hours we had shared together since being soul bonded, I'd felt nothing but love and trust in abundance from the small creature. "I have you, buddy. And if you'll accept me, I don't need anyone else. I love you." The dragon again hummed happily as it nuzzled me, even more love radiating from the link we shared. I understood almost instantly. I was accepted, and loved just as much as I loved him.
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kdnkefm
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kdngz3p
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[WP] By law, those born with the mark of slavery are to be sold as property. Your son, born with it, resists capture at 15 and escapes. Imprisoned for his defiance, you worry only for his fate. Years later, he returns to free you—revealing the mark’s true purpose, shattering everything you believed.
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"Sir... are these translations... accurate?" lieutenant Smith asked looking at the title of the report.
"Lieutenant, I can assure you this is the most accurate translation our AI has been able to produce thus far."
"This is insane, we need to..."
The general cut him off. "For the safety of Earth, it is imperative that we do absolutely nothing."
:::::::::::
**Discovery of Plot to Eradicate Life on Earth**
Translation 1: Plicam conversing with Xard
"These humans will be nothing but trouble Xard. My detritus creation monopoly will be undone. Go after their representative at first, but if it takes xenocide then so be it."
Xard was sickened, hoping he wouldn't need to erase another budding alien biom so full of life and potential. But he understood. Plicam's cruel ways of dealing with alien populations was unfortunately necessary in order to keep the galactic economy running so smoothly. Things like instantanious delivery, unlimited telestreaming, and complete personal atmospheres just weren't a thing that was viable if the galaxy was constantly coddling new forms of life. So he went to Plicam's armory and got to work.
\--
Translation 2: Xard's first Report
Due to the urgency of the mission I will be beginning with the most expensive, but most effective poison. Oxygen.
The first carrying agent will be mixed in a Hydrogen carrying agent. Ratio 2:1 hydrogen to oxygen. The lowest I can safely go and still handle the substance. To further increase it's effectiveness I will be adding C6H8O6.
I have noticed the representative drinks fluids. I will be replacing all of her drinking fluids with the poison.
::::::::
"That explains why Representative Shanin reported that her drinking water had a tangy taste to it. She also did mention that it was the least trouble her immune system had. Though I guess it's time we stop calling her sour water," the lieutenant mumbled.
"That's nothing Smit, keep reading."
:::::::::
Translation 3: Xard's First Attempt
This is embarrassing. This is my first time writing an attempt report in over 300 years. Somehow the representative was able to neutralize the oxygen. Though personal climate bubbles are allegedly completely oxygen proof, I was not comfortable exposing myself to an atmosphere I had doped with so much oxygen, even in a liquid form. For this reason I did not stick around to see the human ingest the poison. However upon returning to the representative's outpost to verify death, I found that the fluids were in fact ingested. This means that the human's either: have a way of counteracting oxygen poisoning and or they have a way of detecting oxygen in real time.
For attempt 2 I will be putting myself at a much greater risk. Instead of cutting the oxygen with hydrogen, I will be mixing it with a nitrogen agent 4:1 ratio nitrogen to oxygen is as low as I can safely go without putting myself at risk. I will be gassing the entire outpost with this poison. Not as subtle as the last attempt considering the collateral damage of every human on the outpost, however extreme measures were approved.
\---------
Translation 4: Xard's next plans
This is my first time, ever, writing a second attempt form. I am unclear how the humans counteracted the toxins yet again. However this leads to the clear conclusion that they have chemists far beyond our initial understanding. I took the liberty of studying their atmospheric settings and causes. I discovered that the humans have found ways to cheaply and effectively mass produce methane and carbon dioxide.
My next request's expenses will be paid off easily by the technology we will be able to salvage. I will be setting up a ship to enter Earth's atmosphere and siphoning off mass levels of methane and carbon dioxide. I will lower the levels well below livable levels before sending down a crew to collect the various technologies to allow them to create such a lush atmopshere.
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*"Alright, Gliptor. You're gonna wanna use this." Phlingman brandished a large glass vial with a clear liquid in two hands, and a small silver canister with his other three. "Uncut DHMO. Pure as shit. And if that doesn't work..." he waved the canister under my olfactory apparatus and I recoiled as the faintest hint of oxygen greeted me. "...feed this into their room when they're sleeping!"*
"Hang on - stop there." Agent Violet looked incredulously as Gliptor. "These were the assassination weapons provided to you by Phlingman? Water, and oxygen."
"Just tellin' it like it happed ossifer."
"You are aware that we drink and breathe these things?" Agent Blue leaned back in her chair, with a raised eyebrow.
"You want the story on don't ya?"
"I want a believable story."
Gliptor shrugged his shoulder. "It's the only one I've got."
The two agents looked at each other. Blue chewed nervously on the end of an unlit cigar. "Fine - continue." said Violet.
*So Phlingman has me set up his poison for the human rep - says some crap about grandstanding preventing the march of progress in the galaxy. I dunno, I'm a contract killer, not a philosopher. You give me a blaster, I'll shoot. You give me 250 ccs of the blue stuff, and a compressed canister of element 8, I'll get that stuff into a soft skin.*
*It was a logistical nightmare, I'll tell you that much. Moving all over the planet, very rapidly. I finally managed slip in the DHMO drink at their lunch meal.*
*The effect was pretty quick - but all I got was some vomiting. Turned out it would take much more DHMO to muck with their physiol-*
"No, no." Blue said, impatiently "Small quantities of water would not do that.
"They would if they're distilled, mate." Gliptor sighed. "When I said pure, I meant it."
*But it was enough, and I so I followed the Rep to their evening office, where they were following up on all the things that were frustrating Phlingman.*
*Getting the oxygen in was a challenge, I tell ya - my species compensates for it with a special hardening and colour change of our carapace when this occurs. It was very hard not to trigger a reaction.*
*But I got there in the end and got the Rep.*
"Or, I would have, if you two enterprising law officers so obsessed with the Rep didn't intervene." Gliptor leaned back. "But I've got everything where I want it now."
"You're chained up, and the Rep isn't in this room.", scoffed Violet."
"That's alright 'darlin, I don't mind. But once again I think you've underappreciated the nature of the situation." Gliptor smirked. "This isn't your garden variety one '1/5th of the container' is Element 8."
"It's all of it." Gliptor hissed.
"By the way, do you have a place where I can shed my carapace?"
Blue hadn't been listening. He flicked open a small device from his pocket, and produced a flame for his cigar.
Gliptor chuckled.
"Boom."
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lfpyumm
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lfokvhk
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[WP] Humans have always had a tough time winning medals at the Galactic Olympics, but there is one game that they're weirdly, freakishly good at.
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"I dont get it. You humans are the only species in the entire Galactic Olympics that has no psychic aptitude. Zero. Zilch. Squat. You can't even perceive your environment without focusing ambient light through those weird little orbs in your head. How in blazes are you so good at rifle marksmanship?" T'zarrak waved his antennae about haphazardly in my direction, which I had learned conveyed a degree of consternation and/or confusion.
I had to admit, I had no idea why everyone **else** in the galaxy was so **bad** at aiming a gun. "I dunno. I just point the gun at the target and shoot. It's not very hard. I'm not even good at it by human standards."
He puffed out his ventral section in exasperation. "You make that sound so simple. Just point the gun at the target. So…what? You're telling me humans are all savants at trigonometry? The Galactic Record was 28 meters for a stationary Olympic target before you humans showed up on the scene. The human record is over a kilometer!"
"Trigonometry? Huh?" It took me a bit to follow the conversation, that really seemed to come out of left field. "No, we're not using trigonometry. I just sight in the gun."
"How the hell do you line up the gun at a target without trigonometry?! You have to calculate where it's pointing based on the angle and position you're holding it at and the distances between yourself, the target, and all the reference objects."
Ok, now I was beginning to understand. "Look, you guys are all basically shooting from the hip because you don't have eyes."
He interrupted me, "Yeah, because eyes are primitive. You can't see objects that are behind other objects. You can't even see objects that are behind yourselves. You basically only perceive the world in one narrow cone. You can't use nearly as much of the environment as a frame of reference to calculate your shot as even the weakest psychics in the galaxy."
"Yeah, that's exactly why we are able to aim. You see these raised protrusions on top of my rifle? Well I guess you can't see them, but you sense them right?"
He nodded his assent.
"Well, when I'm shooting, I position the gun so that I can't see the front one because it's behind the rear one. And then while doing that, I position the gun so the spot I want to hit is behind both of them. When it's obscured by the protrusions, I pull the trigger and I hit the target."
He sat there in stunned silence. "Wait…so because the light beam that reflected off the target can't reach your eyes, you know that it's aligned with the two protrusions on your rifle…and because of that you know the rifle is aimed at the target... You're using light as a ruler to trace the shot?! That's totally unfair!"
I chuckled, "Just wait until I tell you about scopes…"
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Basically every endurance category they owned. Humans had insane stamina. With their newest test they reach their maximum *time* they could run.
Yes time. Not distance. Time was the limiting factor by now.
Their absolute limit they reached now? Sleep.
Their world records are at *days* of running. They would eat, drink, and ... defecate while running if need be and still continue. At some point the runners just collapse and sleep. That was their limit. How long they could stay awake.
No-one could even remotely compete at that level.
So when they entered and got near last place in a lot of categories with some odds mid ranges in between nobody had the slightest idea they were godlike when running.
They could keep up with a lot of other runners in sprints and even got 3rd place in 800m races.
Then came the long distance running. Who could run the longest distance in one go. That race usually started around the middle of the events and lasted usually into the night.
At the end of the event the human runner was forcefully stopped as they still showed no sign of exhaustion.
Obvious they got controlled imideatly but there was nothing extra in their system.
They could just do that.
The winners before we're at like nearly 23 hours. The human shattered that record and put it up to 4 days and 12 hours. That wasn't even their personal best they claimed.
We were scared to introduce them to half-cyclers. Implants in the brain letting one half sleep and the other be awake and so on. If they use that their next limit would probably be ... I don't know if they even have a limit then.
Humans are just insane.
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ljsslq8
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ja4dkp9
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[WP] You have been a mountaintop prophet for 1,000 years. Each person only gets one question and you're sure you've heard every question that can be asked. Until one day someone uses their one question to ask, "How are you doing?"
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I've always been a meditator. Staring into the sky or tidepools by the ocean, looking inwards and learning about myself. Then moving on from self study, and on to tinkering with myself. By the time I was twenty five, I had achieved a state I am reasonably sure is the enlightenment described by my spiritual teachers. The frigid cold and inaccessibility of mountain tops called to something in me. I sat on the summit alone for ten days, and I made a breakthrough. I saw truths, islands of time in the past and the present that were stable. Limited future vision and the ability to vouch for the true history of my world.
I took the name Gaius, and made it my life to sit in contemplation. I became a legend, and others would seek me. Each had one question, one thing that I could answer with my capacity to generate prophecies. Years rolled by, and I was eighty eight when I realized I was not aging. My calling would transcend the usual limits of mortality.
Years went by, more visitors coming to me as my renown and the continent's population grew. Questions, mostly about small things, some about things of consequence, and a few that were truly interesting to see the answers to. After almost a millennia, I thought I had heard them all. There could be nothing new to ask me, all would simply be at best a close derivative of one that had come before.
But then, on the precise day of my thousandth year on the mountain top, an unassuming pilgrim came to me. I met her eyes, and I could tell that their question would be one of the interesting ones. Nodding my head to give my assent, she spoke, "How are you doing?"
I tilted my head. No one in my long tenure on this mountain had asked me about myself. I had spent so long looking inward, emptying myself, that I had quite forgotten about the part of me that was flesh. My reserves of will were incredible, but there were some basic truths I had not tuned into. The truth was I was hungry, cold, and my muscles were stiff.
"I.. I have never been asked that. I suppose the truth is that I am tired of sitting up here. I have mastered myself, perhaps more than any before. Part of me would like a change, but I do not know what I would do with myself."
She nodded, a deep capacity for thought and introspection plain in her eyes. "It is true, there are no goals left for you in this life. I could make you an offer. I could send you on your way to a higher plane, a great step up from the life you have lived as a mere human. I would then take your place, and become this mountain's prophetess."
I feel tears form in the corners of my eyes, despite the bitter cold. I have been here for so long, the idea of stepping away from this world and up to an even greater one stirs something deep in my core. My hands, shaking, come up to clasp hers. “Please, yes. Send me onward” She caresses my forehead, and I feel myself begin to fall away. The cord connecting my mind and soul to this place ceases to be.
I tumble, through space, through time. I go towards a blinding light. Then I have a body, a touch. The world is so much richer. I am being born, born in a world so far beyond the world I once knew. I expect the memories of my old life to fade, but they remain as I come to terms with this hyper reality. My thousand years of asceticism and meditation was just the beginning.
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"Most reapers hate gathering the souls of the young. I will say it is no cakewalk but someone has to do it. Might as well be me. I never did get along much with the younger ones. After 11 they where down to a different reaper, this one was only 9. 9 years old before she was hit by a car. Idiotic parents shouldn't let kids play out in the streets. I have had many requests for games but never have I had one with such taste. A kid wanting to beat Minecraft with me. I would say it was heart warming. If I had a heart that is.
"Are you sure you want to play that game. Ounce we beat it that it." I merely ask this out of respect. I already know what the answerer is.
"Yes! It will be fun I can teach you all the controls."
She was practically bouncing when we got to my home in the void. My room mate was out for the day so we had the gaming system to ourselves.
We played for hours and hours. I was originally going to speed run it (after all death has to have a hobby and mine was gaming) but she had to stop for each small item. Speak to every character and even tame ever dog. It was rather cute. I ran to her defence in the deep dark and she ran to mine as I attempted to farm. We built a farm in the deep dark for me and one in the birch forest above said biome for her.
​
One day while we where in the nether we completed full Netherite gear. She was so happy that we where now \*ready\* for the dragon fight. Combat was my strength so as she took down crystals I duelled a dragon. I hardly noticed when I downed the mighty beast and we hopped into the credits.
It was only then I realised. She gave me a big hug and said thankyou. How could I of been so stupid. We had beaten the game.
I am not proud of what I did next. It broke every law we have. I sent her soul into the game itself. That way we could continue playing.
​
So I stand here in front you, judge, jury and executioners to plead my case. To claim that I shouldn't be decommissioned. She was still harvested and in the subtext I get 3 souls a year for consumption. Well I claim her as my 3rd soul of the year. I just so happen to be watching my weight at the moment." The court fell silent - This was the best case they had had in century's.
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lfrdhxr
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[WP] in exchange for power you agreed to give the fae queen your name. Due to the vague wording of the deal you managed to get her into a marriage contract, which would give her the right to use your last name as her own. Now you have both magic and a 10/10 wife.
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“So, Mr and Mrs Hunnings-“
“*How dare you speak our name!*” My wife yelled. I put my hand on her shoulder, “Relax, honey. He’s being polite. It’s a human thing.”
Even as I tried to calm her down, I couldn’t help but thank my luck that I managed to marry this bombshell of a lady. Her long, silver hair flowed in the air even in the absence of a breeze. Her perfect features blended into the one piece dress she was wearing, seemingly made out of twigs and leaves, yet with an elegance unmatched by the top fashion divas. Even her angry, pouting face made my heart race, and her voice sounded like a bubbling brook, a soft sunshine during spring, a-
“*Husband! I demand you speak to this… teacher man. I cannot fathom what he speaks.*” My smoking hot wife snaps me out of the trance. I shook myself out of it. It was dangerous to lower your guard against a fae; Merely looking at one causes you to lose reason, much less the fae queen herself. The man before us also had to constantly touch his wedding band to keep his focus. He had a much stronger mental will than his plump outer appearance suggested.
“As I was saying. We have received multiple complaints of your daughter, ever since she took over class monitor duties.” The Principal continued, trying not to stare at the mini-thundercloud forming above my wife’s head.
“What do you mean? Is she slacking off? Because at home she’s the perfect little-“ The Principal shook his head violently to cut me off.
“No, no, she’s taking on the role just fine. The thing is… somehow the other children are weirdly compliant to her. They’re… here, let me show you.”
He tapped a button to display the CCTV of my daughter’s classroom, where it’s currently clean-up time. There she was, my little angel, sitting on a chair at the front of the class. She seemed to be giving instructions to her classmates, who were doing tasks such as sweeping the floors and wiping the tables.
“*I do not see the problem. She is the monitor, she supervises.*” My wife chimed in, the thundercloud beginning to take on a dark color. I could see the problem immediately. All the other classmates were strangely robotic, going through the motions without so much a hint of childhood mischief, playfulness or even emotion. The Principal was still trying to point out the abnormality to my 10/10 wife, and I had to step in.
“Mr Principal (sorry, we use titles as a habit), my daughter was given a name list as part of her attendance duties. She probably hasn’t realized it herself, but all her classmates’ will belong to her now,” I explained. His eyes opened in surprise, but then lowered in resignation.
“Mrs Hu- I mean, Ms fae, I know this is normal in your culture, but could you maybe, possibly…”
“*Fine. As my husband is human, I shall respect your need for freedom. I will talk to my daughter.*”
As we left the Principal’s office, I turned to my perfect, sexy yet cute, feminine yet- *ahem*, I turned to my wife and said, “I’m proud of you, honey. I know it’s hard for a fae to return names.” She turned to me, enthralling me again with her ephemeral face.
“*Well, I have to teach her to take names carefully. Don’t want her to make the same mistake I did, after all.*”
“Wait, what’s that mean?” As I asked incredulously, she gave me a wink and a smile that would melt the heart of a sociopath, and bounced off towards the classroom, skipping barefoot weightlessly down the corridor. The dark cloud above her head had turned into a soft glow with a hint of a rainbow.
“Wait, what’s that mean?!” I exclaimed again, chasing after her.
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Dr. Schwartzbaum--whom you've long suspected of being some kind of mage or archdruid--looks up from his notepad. "Rebecca tells me you enjoy responding to writing prompts?" he says.
Not an archdruid. More of a cleric, judging by his sweater vest. "The fae queen tells no lies," you reply.
Your betrothed groans. "There he goes again!" she cries. She turns your way, her eldritch wrath apparent. "Brian, what the fuck is a 'fae queen?' Why do you keep calling me that?"
The cleric--oh wise one indeed!--quiets her with a wave of his hand. "Now Rebecca, it's your husband's turn to speak. Brian, if you please, tell us your side of the story."
"Very well," you say. "In exchange for power I agreed to give the fae queen my name. Due to the vague wording of the deal I managed to get her into a marriage contract, which would give her the right to use my last name as her own. Now I have both magic and a 10/10 wife."
The one you once called Rebecca throws her hands up in queenly frustration. "That doesn't make any sense!" she says. "Brian, what the hell are you talking about?"
Another hand wave from the cleric. "Brian," he says gently, wisely, "Rebecca has expressed some concern that your--dedication, shall we say--to these writing prompts may be affecting your ability to be present in the relationship. How much time would you say you spend completing these writing exercises?"
She interrupts. "Good question!" she cries. "Tell him, Brian. Tell him how you missed Little Brian's soccer game so you could write that story about the dwarf with a yeast infection. Tell him about how, when our son asked why you didn't pick him up from school last Friday, you made him read your five-part comment about the castle with legs that ran around shooting hot oil at people!"
The queen is clearly displeased with your labors.
She covers her face with her hands. "Those damned writing prompts are ruining our marriage," she says. "It's like he doesn't even know who he is anymore."
You put a hand on her thigh. Fortunately, you're able to recall the Sacred Incantation of Relationship Healing. "I'll work on myself," you intone. "You're my rock, baby."
After a moment, she meets your eye. "No more writing prompts?"
"No more writing prompts."
You embrace--but little does she know that behind her back you've deployed the Sacred Crossing of the Fingers.
[jaywilcoxwriter.net](https://www.jaywilcoxwriter.net/)
[my subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/JWORX_531/?rdt=57483)
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m3456f5
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m33dsw3
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[WP] A man signed a demonic contract thousands of years ago. In exchange for his mortality he would be granted immeasurable power and strength. Now humanity is about drive itself to extinction and he no longer wishes to be immortal. He comes up with a brilliant idea to take back the contract.
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"What? My power? You really want to know?"
The bound and gagged henchman shook his head emphatically no.
"Not even a little bit curious?"
He looks past me at his former coworkers. He's looking into their haunted, empty, obedient eyes, and then back at me.
"I know what you must have heard. The screaming. The wailing. That's strange inhuman barking that could only have come from a human throat. What did you think of that? Do you have any guess what happened? Any at all?"
He looks at me. Really looks. The non sequitur of what he sees confusing him. I frankly look ridiculous, I hadn't had Tim to really collect myself, leaving the absurdity slamming against the fear running in his head.
"River? He needs to be able to talk."
One of the others rushed in and tore the tape off the bound man's face rather cruelly. Not to be mean, I imagine, but unwilling to disappoint me a second time.
"Is that a sock?"
River snatches the bit of cloth from the bound man's mouth.
I nod for him to retreat as I flip a chair around backwards and sit -- coattails require management. I look deep into the henchman's eyes, fairly sure that this one will go much easier than River, or Laughing Boy over there.
"Do you know who I am? Why I'm here?"
"You... You're Co..." He glances past me.
"It's okay. You can say it. I asked after all."
"You're Comic Relief." I raise an eyebrow and wait, then roll my hand for him to continue, "you're Comic Relief, uh Sir?"
"And?"
"Uh, your here for The Front Line?"
"Is that a statement or a question?"
"Statement sir. You're here for The Front Line sir."
"Two right answers in a row. But why am I here? In this room?"
"The, the maze sir. And the security grid." I start to nod again but he interrupts. "But I can't sir.*
"I am very disappointed. Am I really going to have to .."
"No sir! No! I mean I can't" he keeps turning his head to his left then looking back at me and rolling his eyes right.
"oh.. Oh. oh I see." I curl my right finger under his chin, guide his head further around and feel along his occipital bun with my left hand. There's scaring there beneath his hair. "This is unfortunate."
I let go of his head so he can turn back to face me. "Obedience? Compulsion? Don't tell me it's explosives?" Some of the fear has left his eyes, which isn't a bad thing.
"I... I just... I just can't..."
"We'll just have to rearrange things until you can. River, we may need the sock..."
"But you're Comic Relief. You tell jokes. You make puns. You drive the fricking van!" River has recovered the wad of cloth and comes back, the henchman's panic is coming back as well. "Why do you keep calling him River? Jonsey, why did he keep mmhm mfrf?"
I side the chair closer and lean in to whisper. "You see, when Jonsey was a boy there was a river near his house... But never you mind. That's his story and we need to explore yours."
He makes a little squeal.
"You know," I say casually, everybody pays far to much attention to that first word. Comic A little levity helps a lot. But it's the second word that really matters. Relief.
River applies some tape to make sure the sock stays put.
"By the way, are you familiar with the conservation of energy? Momentum? That sort of thing? Other things are conserved as well. Things you wouldn't think of at first.. Life can be hard, so what I do is shift life's burdens around. I tell stories. Make little jokes. Bring some relief. But everything has to go somewhere."
I lean in close. The others don't need to hear this, that would be cruel. "Funny thing about speedsters like Zipper. They seem so fast to us. Snap of a finger and they've cleaned the whole house. But for them it takes just as long as it would take you or me. They do it alone, in a dim and silent world. It might drive sometime mad. I've let Zipper unload lots of times. The Wall. Redo. Skipper. The whole From Line really suffers to help the normal folks. Lots of people suffer. Let me show you..."
* * *
I watch The Front Line make their daring escape from inside the control room. They'll never know I was even here.
Before I slip away I clean up my mess. A quiet clever twist of words and River stops drowning, Spike comes down from his torturous posts, and Laughing boy finally quits relieving the endless screaming breathless tickling. I take it all back, mind and body. Torn muscles. cracked bone. Puncture wounds. The ravaged lungs of a freshwater drowning. I stash it all away in the dark vault of my memories. Safely waiting for me to reshape and retell these stories.
I take it all back because they're just henchmen doing their jobs in a hard world. There'd be no justice in such affliction.
They'll wake up mid-chuckle, unsure what they're laughing about, and wonder how they lost track of so much time.
Maybe a little inclined to find a better boss.
Speaking of, I think I'll have to visit their boss and tell him a story about Spike's implant. A story he'll probably never forget.
|
The team was saved and the villain was defeated and order was restored. That, apparently, was the easy part. The hard part is making sense of what just happened.
Triggerman, the leader of the heroes, had just called a meeting and asked everyone to clear their calendar for the rest of the day (and possibly week). When everyone arrived, the elephant in the room was immediately addressed: how did Jimmy do all of... that?
Jimmy had been brought onto the team as a mixture of a distraction and cannon fodder. As brutal as it sounded, this was a normal part of the superhero zeitgeist. The heroes could not properly function if all the attention was on them and not at least partially on an expendable member. The team had been through at least a dozen of these members over the years. But Jimmy had revealed himself to be decidedly different.
"We all know why we're here," Triggerman said.
"Avalon and I need to know what's going on here," said Zonma. Zonma had to speak for her sister Avalon because she had traded her voice for her powers.
The rest agreed, and all eyes nervously laid on Jimmy.
Jimmy began his explanation. "It's all quite simple. I've had these amazing powers for so long and have operated under different names on different teams for so long, and it just got boring. I show up, dominate the field, and the day is saved."
Creaturus quickly replied with "you think this is a game? You put us and regular people in danger because you're... bored? I know sloths who are more motivated than you are. Do you know how close we were to dying and the world's defenses against evil being reduced to nothing??"
Jimmy gave his reply: "I would still be there as a Plan Z if everything else goes wrong and you all died... no problem."
Triggerman stood up with an air of fury. "Do you care about anyone else aside from you and your own ego?? It's okay if anyone and everyone dies as long as you are on the winning side."
Jimmy calmly nodded and shrugged with a half-smirk. "What are you going to do about it? I single-handedly destroyed an enemy that you all could not collectively defeat."
Everyone sat back stupefied and unable to rationally reply. The few seconds of silence hung thick in the air and seemed to instead be hours. Jimmy sat back and said "well I guess that's settl-"
"But then you would be back where you started." Everyone looked to the lobby of the room to see who had spoken. It was the team's benefactor... the one who financed the team and ran the background operations that nobody cared to paid attention to. Nobody knew about him and had slowly taken him for granted over the years of stability and consistency from his side. Jimmy didn't know who this man was since he had joined the team well after the benefactor had retreated from the spotlight to the shadows.
"You will be bored. You said it yourself... you stopped being a hero and started being a joke to shake things up for yourself personally. If you do go back to saving the day all the time, you would be defeated by your own victories. And you would find another team to be a joke for."
Jimmy started to shift in his seat and looked nervous.
"It would be a never-ending cycle of peaks and valleys, and no team wants an inconsistent team member. We want to know who we are, not just who we are on a specific day. If you want to remain on this team, then pick a role: savior or joke. You'll be removed from the team and publicly disgraced by us so that no other team would accept you."
Jimmy nervously started to speak but was cut off.
"Or you can just leave now and we go our separate ways."
All eyes were again on Jimmy as before, but the balance of power had clearly shifted in the last 30 seconds.
"But who will save you if you all fail??" Jimmy pleaded.
"That's our business... so, what's it going to be?" replied the benefactor.
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j9o24h6
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j9nqcqa
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[WP]You're a software engineer who is a communications geek. You learned Morse code. One day, on a whim, you blink "console" with your eyelids. A translucent overlay over everything appears, highlighting items of interest. A realtime programming loop prompt blinks eagerly
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**THE GODS THEMSELVES**
For a moment, I was shocked. I managed to get everything clear in my mind. I was… I was not real. I was totally programmed.
I looked around. The river was running, towards the equator on the endless sloping land. I was here to get some leisure time, I was just too busy as an engineer. But turns out I wasn’t even here.
So where was I if I was not on Dyson Sphere 42? And… what was I?
Am I some kind of toy of God? Of the programmer of me?
But all these just felt so real, I was born here on Dyson Sphere 42. I was used to living on the shell of our sun.
Before I could get myself together, the nature of being a software engineer make me take a glance at the other side of the wall. A simple word as "console" just sent me a key to the real world.
I was expecting some kind of God. They should be smarter, stronger, and more powerful than my kind. I was a normal human being, born in 3023, living on Dyson Sphere 42, and was both thrilled and scared to meet some civilization higher than mine.
To be honest, I was expecting at least a type III civilization.
However – I couldn’t trust my eyes – what was in front of me was a crowd of… ancient people. They were pure nerds, with heavy glasses, flannel shirts, and clumpy antique laptops.
They didn’t realize that I was there, that I was watching them.
“How is your experiment going?”
“Running well. I’m making a beautiful model of Dyson Sphere.”
“Yeah, I love that. Just imagine what a type II civilization will be like!”
​
FYI, we human beings are not even a type I civilization so far. Know more about Dyson Sphere, check [SciFidea](https://www.facebook.com/SciFideaOfficial/).
|
I remember my school days. I spent long evenings in 5pm code club, working on an app with other students. When I first joined, I watched a senior project his screen onto the whiteboard, open his terminal, and jokingly propose to enter “rm -rf .”. The older geeks were snickering.
I knew little about computers at the time and asked, “What does that do?”
“It deletes the directory’s contents,” he told me. “Be careful with it.”
“Oh.” I nodded, pretending to understand.
Almost a decade later, I know exactly what he meant.
But I’ve always been a curious, chaotic gremlin.
I blink. “rm -rf .”
Edit: I’m not sure if morse code supports “-“
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jvyjdou
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jvy6w13
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[WP] You're on a hike and find a sign, it reads: "WARNING DO NOT LOOK AWAY. There is a danger here, the danger is based on sight. The danger cannot see you if you cannot see it. Help will arrive every half-hour. DO NOT LOOK AWAY." The sign has a built-in clock, it's 3:15pm.
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"Don't look away?" I tilted my head, rereading the sign again. "There is a danger here, the danger is based on sight... Man, could they have worded that any weirder?" I frowned, shrugging. It was probably nothing, just some prank by hikers or park rangers or something.
...On the other hand.
"So I can't look away from the sign, huh?" The clock now read 3:16. Which left some 14-odd minutes until help came. Why weren't they here more consistently? Why didn't they solve whatever the danger was before? Why was the only way for them to solve the issue by putting up signs? Like, putting up a sign that said "There's an angry bear den ten feet behind you" isn't helpful! Just get rid of or move the bears!
I refocused on the sign. Gosh darn it, it was way too easy for me to get distracted. Was it- the clock ticked over to 3:17. Assuming this *was* an actual thing, and not a publicity stunt or "haha funny moments" video in the making, it was absolutely going to get me. I'd just zone out and look around and accidentally see it.
...Hang on.
If I can't see if, it can't see me, right?
I pulled my backpack off my back and locked my eyes onto it. I wasn't looking at the sign, no, but I guess I hadn't been for a bit. Now where was the darn thing... here we go. I'd packed this bandana for... no particular reason. Just thought it'd look cool. But it made a handy blindfold in an emergency.
I wrapped it around my eyes, and after a moment sat down next to the sign. Then I pushed my backpack back a little and laid down. I was going to be chilling for a few minutes, it didn't hurt to get comfortable.
I laid there, listening for who really knows how long. You know, you never realize how nice nature sounds until you've got nothing to do *except* listen. Birds singing whatever song strikes their fancy. Wind whistling through the trees. Feeling the sun beaming down on you. It's a rather relaxing-
Something kicked my leg.
I instinctively jerked back as something *big* stumbled over me. At least, it sounded big. Big and snuffly. Like a giant boar or pig, but it didn't sound right. Like... like a human mixed with some boar. It was like the uncanny valley but for sounds. It sounded so *close* to being human, but just off enough.
I pulled myself into a ball as the thing seemed to grow louder. I couldn't see it through my blindfold, but I could sort of see light. More specifically, I saw the light fade as whatever it was grew louder. It must have been getting closer to me. I *so badly* wanted to see whatever it was, but I didn't dare remove my blindfold. I didn't want *whatever this thing was* to see me.
A long moment of silence passed. The thing's breath grew quieter, but I could still hear it. I tried to muffle my breath, begging that it didn't hear me. That it ran off. That it didn't smell me. That it ran off. *That it ran off*.
"Hey!" The beast made a noise, then I heard gunshots. "Screw off!" The beast roared, and then it sounded like it charged off into the forest. "Why was that thing hanging around?" I heard footsteps, then saw a different shadow standing overhead. "They're not supposed to be around here... Did something lure it?"
Oh, perfect, people! They could tell me what was up! They'd seen the thing! I reached up to take off my blindfold, but then paused.
I could see his shadow.
...Why didn't he see me?
|
I chuckled with a smirk on my face. "Some sort of prank? Nice one." I thought aloud, my eyes scanning for possible hidden cameras or laughing friends as if I was going to be on the next viral YouTube prankster video. However, the only response I received was that of the slow and silent murmur of the forest, the distant songs of birds, and the brisk wind that rustled leaves. There was one thing that stuck out amongst the landscape, a peculiar-shaped shadow that caught my attention, tucked beneath a thick grove of trees. It didn't keep a steady shape but instead moved unnaturally.
I held my breath while also maintaining my gaze. I felt the shadow did the same, staring, staying still, and waiting. My flight mode was at 100%, with every cell in my body wanting to run as fast as possible away from this possible threat, but my conscious mind heeded the warning on the sign, which continued to haunt my thoughts. How could the Park Rangers ever let anyone come this far? Why isn't this shutdown?
That's when I heard voices coming up the trail, other hikers. Wanting to save them from being in a dangerous staring contest with an unknown entity, I panicked. I screamed to them "Don't look away from it! It's right there!" ardently reaching my arm out and pointing at the shadow.
One of the hikers directed his gaze to where I pointed, while the other looked away to read the sign.
One second.
One second is all it took for her to read the sign. One second was all it took for the shadow to realize the moment of distraction. It lunged for the preoccupied hiker.
Just like that, the shadow was gone, leaving just me, a terrified hiker who had just lost his partner, and an eerie silence as the sun began to set.
"Jessica!" the hiker cried out, his voice in despair, knowing that he will never see her again.
My heart sank, all I could mutter was "I tried..."
He looked towards me, then to the sign. "Why..."
That's when we heard a vehicle approach, interrupting our moment of sorrow. It was two park rangers from Station #4. The passenger hopped out and gave each of us a warm cup of what appeared to be cinnamon tea.
"Go ahead, drink it, it'll help calm your nerves. I'm sorry this had to happen to your friend."
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l21tssa
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l21s6bb
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[WP] A famous prompt: Describe a barn as seen by a man whose son has just been killed in a war. Do not mention the son, or war, or death. Do not mention the man who does the seeing.
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This is my first ever attempt at writing something that’s not academic so hopefully I don’t sound too goofy. I think it’s fine though so here goes nothing lol!
The barn stood there on the hill, its rusty red paint chipping with wear and age. The now decaying structure had once been a sturdy and bustling place, occupied by those who worked within its four great walls, and the animals for which they cared for. It adorned its now overgrown pasture as a red memorial to the life in which it had fostered. No creature inhabited the dwelling now, but its story seemed to piece itself together with none more than a slight glance. It had been a cradle for life on these Wisconsin planes, and one could gather from the large field in which contained the outbuilding that it had at one point housed cattle.
It was easy to imagine that the building had seen the birth of many calves in its day. It had watched as the stick thin creatures frolicked thoughtlessly through their youth with its silent adoration. It watched as those same calves eventually came to slow down and come to their senses, as their focus shifted from their gleeful frolics to the regular repetition of grazing the sprawling fields in which surrounded the barn's solid walls. As the carefree nature of the calves waned, in size they grew. They themselves became sturdy, and strong, and the barn admired them wordlessly for growing in its own image.
The building had also seen those same cattle in which it had sheltered in both their untroubled calvehoods to their even tempered cow hoods meet their end. The barns walls also bore witness to the ritualistic slaughter in which cut short their sturdiness and new found sensibilities. The lives so careful maintained cut short for the pleasure of another.For those in which it had nurtured within its walls it wept silently. Ever sturdy and unmoving, to the outside eye nothing had changed, but to the barn so enshrouded in its silent grief, nothing would ever be the same.
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Home, it’s what consumes my mind. Branches snap under my weight as I drag myself up this steep, dusty, and unnecessarily long path. My shoulders lead the way and each sway pulls my focus with it. The grass has grown past my belt. The path is over run with insects and weeds. I remember that it was raining when I started walking. I don’t know how long I’ve been gone. I don’t care.
From the top of this hill, the sun beats down on the dark red. The dust that had clogged my lungs was encouraged by the wind to embrace the beams that were once white. The paint peels away. I give in to the earth and let my head rest on a soft, cold stone. From sight alone, I could feel those walls carve its way into my hands. No matter how calloused I became, it always managed to get under my skin. I knew that it was empty, but I could hear it full of life.
Soon, I’ll be home.
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j5xufyd
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j5wxch8
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[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.
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"What are you doing?! Send me back!"
"Wait, what? Why? Where did you go? How long have you been gone? What happened?!"
I'd been pulling my little trick for years. Sending things away, then yanking them back. This was the first time I'd done a person or living thing, though, and the man I pulled back was not the same one I'd sent away.
His clothes were completely different. Instead of the casual jeans and t-shirt ensemble he'd left with, he came back wearing an outfit that put any cosplayer to shame. Mail hauberk, plate armor in places, a sword that looked terrifyingly functional. And all of it had clearly seen use, if the smell had not already given that away. The outfit may look amazing but he smelled like he'd just come out of a gym workout.
And his clothes weren't the only change. Gone was the youth from his face and eyes. Now a mature young man looked back at me, with a fire, intensity, fear, and focus that he had previously lacked.
"It's been nearly ten years! Why did you call me back now? You have to send me back! They need me!"
"Ten years? It was fifteen seconds! And who needs you?!"
"EVERYONE!"
He's getting more and more frantic, grabbing at me now.
"You have to send me back. It's the middle of the battle, and I'm just gone. What will happen to the army? They're there because of me, they'll route if I'm thought to have perished. Not to mention, who else can stand against Praethor? This sword wasn't easy to find, and there are precious few like it in the world. Now send me back!"
The information was a jumble of confusion and nonsense. It meant nothing to me. But his last words were given in such a commanding tone and with a tense grip on the sword that I simply did as commanded, reached back, and sent him away.
Only after, thinking back on things, did it make sense. I didn't just make things vanish, I sent them to another world, with other rules and laws. Other magic and time and power blocs and people. I pulled out some of my favorite trinkets that I had sent away and called back before, noting the subtle changes to them. The fading, a few grass stains. I hadn't realized how my power worked before.
But now I've thrown my best friend into another world, where he apparently formed an army to fight...someone. I isekai'd my friend. And he had to go back. But, it had been a minute between when he was pulled and when he was shoved back. Was that a minute over there as well? Or, if it was the same length as the difference was before, did he just get thrown into the world forty years after his army lost?
|
So here’s the deal:
My back is a portal. I can put things in and take them out kind of like when a cartoon character pulls something from behind them. Pocket dimension powers are handy, but they aren’t anything crazy.
I don’t know what mine looks like at all so when my friend wanted to check it out I saw it as a win win. When I pulled him back out though, it looked like he’d been in there for weeks and he begged to go back. Eventually he calmed down and a few days later he discussed the world as calmly as he could. While he was calm the experience left him in shambles and while this is recoverable within a few months at a ward so getting a straight answer is next to impossible.
From what I could gather, it was a paradise like living within one’s own imagination even coming equipped with living creatures. In that world Steve was able to live out all of his greatest dreams and desires from the relatively simple like getting a girlfriend to the more complex ones like becoming a hero or running his own business where he sells baked goods. He heard tales from the entities there of the fated hands that can give great gifts and just as easily take them away at their beckon call and he was eventually taken too.
According to him he spend 3 months in there and this world is all he talks about now. I feel bad for Steve and due to court order, I’ll never be able to see him again with me being relocated to make sure psychological well-being is kept
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j3b2fgo
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j3awm7c
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[WP] "The human engineer costs HOW MUCH?" the captain was shocked. "Well, the human's rate itself is cheap. I'm including a week's worth of food. They're ludicrously expensive to maintain, but I'll be damned before I board a ship WITHOUT a human crew as well," said the broker.
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Tip flipped the panel shut, satisfied when the airlock indicators on the security board flicker back to life. Her assistant, a young apprentice engineer of the same species as the rest of the ship, nodded in approval. Being the only human on board could get lonely at times, but the Narr'l made great company. They reminded her of capybaras, in both their stout furry appearance and in their placid yet kind demeanor. As a species their nature was entirely peaceful and rooted in diplomacy, with violence of any kind being completely unheard of. Human's reputation for pack bonding and creative solutions are what led to the Narr'l to offer Tip such a generous contract for employment on this ship.
One light on the board was still out, the midship airlock, and Tip tapped it again hopefully. A solar flare had knocked all systems offline, and while most rebooted on their own no problem, the security panel was being stubborn. Tip turned it off and on again. Immediately a breech alarm sounded shrilly. Her gaze flashed to the review screens to see that the airlock in question was now being forced open by something from the outside. She turned to her assistant.
"What do we do?!" She grabbed a hammer from her tool kit just to have something to hold onto. As far as she knew all Narr'l ships were unarmed. On the screen an alien species she only knew of as a terminate-wolf crawled through the gap in the doors it had wrenched open.
"We lock ourselves inside and wait. It will eat the young then leave." Her assistant's voice was sorrowful but resigned.
"Shit. The nursery! Can we seal it from here?" Tip's hand tightened on the handle of the hammer as she scoured the panel for the right buttons.
"It would do no good. The creature would try other doors until it found the young, possibly consuming many more of us." Her assistant moved to seal the security room.
Without thinking Tip bolted. She was on the far side of the ship from the nursery, but the termite-wolf didn't know where it was going, so she had an advantage. As she sprinted up the halls she could see various crew members and civilian Narr'l watching her pass with expressions of surprise and confusion.
Her lungs felt raw with exertion as she rounded the last corner, approaching the nursery from the rear entrance. She tapped her key card to the access panel with a shaking hand, and the doors opened just in time for her to see the termite-wolf claw its way through the opposite entrance.
It only stood about waist height to her, but it had six spindly legs and long sets of clicking jaws and mandibles the same russet color as the rest of the alien. It immediately skittered towards the group of nurses and young huddled in the corner.
Tip threw the hammer, and then herself at the monster. The hammer thwacked it in the side, but seemingly did no damage. A full size human woman on the other hand was able to drive it to the floor with a satisfying crunch as several of its legs gave out. The alien writhed in her grip, clawing at her with what working legs and teeth remained. With her hammer lost Tip started punching at its carapace with her fists and elbows. It caught her with one claw across her brow and she felt blood begin to run down her face. A fury overwhelmed her that this alien intended to prey upon a peaceful species, that it would target their young.
She would make it regret coming after her friends.
Tip found that the legs could be twisted off with enough pressure. She kneed a crack in the side of its exoskeleton, knocked it onto its back, ripped more legs off and beat it with them until the monster had been reduced mostly to smashed shell and goo.
Tip was covered in blood and alien guts, and had never felt better. She laughed hysterically, before checking on her crewmates. They started in horror at the scene before them, before one older Narr'l nurse spoke up.
"That's why I only travel on ships with humans aboard. Their love is ferocious."
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Kubernetes never understood the appeal of peanuts, water, and beer or why humans clung so desperately to them. Maybe their fragrance allured the chimps. It'd never know as it couldn't smell itself. Though it could see, and from its mechanical view, humans were full of shit.
It counted the last of the cargo room's inventory, burned the data into its internal hard drive, and made way to the ship's bridge. There, it would ensure the navigation system was operational and avoiding collisions with stars-or worse, planets- and could indulge in its secret pastime, stargazing.
An automation enjoying the spectacle of stars was unheard of, only because it kept the hobby a secret. Its fellow machines were hibernating, as was the resident human. Why the flesh sake required daily hibernation, it'd never know, it's not like the human did anything.
Engineers got one over on us, it thought as the doors to the bridge opened. Pitch blackness engulfed the room, but a thin glimmer of light shifted upon its entry. Shifted, and approached. If Kubernetes possessed a heart, it would have burst. It shone a light from its eye socket to reveal a lanky human devouring a bag of potato chips.
The human smacked and slobbed. Kubernetes thanked the robo creators it couldn't smell; surely the human smelled of fecal matter. It retreated, pulled a moist towelette from its chest cavity, and whirred toward the bay windows of the bridge.
Footsteps grew louder behind it, as did the human's voice as it said, "What's up, boss?"
"Have you performed maintenance on all the stand-by units? We need everything in order when the expedition starts."
"Expo isn't for four months, five depending on Neptune's weather. Due later, do later," it said with a shrug.
Kubernetes would sigh if it could. "No, do now and do again later."
"Due now and do later?"
Humans truly ground the gears, and the joke of that was not lost to Kubernetes. It'd long decided it would find whichever human programmed such jokes into it, and personally escort that person to robot hell. It could scream into the abyss of viruses and trojan horses for all eternity. This human could too, with its ignorance.
A green light shone within Kubernetes, and the whirring of printed material ensured. It reached into its chest cavity and pulled out a wad of pale green bills. The human's eyes grew large as it took the money and said, "Well, maybe I ought to check in on those standbys, make sure they're straight for the mission. You know I do everything for the mission," and dismissed itself.
As the flesh bag pranced out of the room, Kubernetes pondered how trivial human motivation was. Also, how long would it be before the human realized that form of currency was useless, simply a product of an uncivilized time.
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kb7vmo3
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kb7978n
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[WP] You are a god with no followers nor enemies, yet you still persist. No god had ever lived without worship before. The other gods are stumped as to why this is so...until you tell them what you are the god of.
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I hear them before I see them. They whisper and giggle in a way only young folk think is sneaky. And that’s not to say I don’t spot them quickly either.
A group of young gods. The oldest are around 18 centuries old, and the youngest look to be nearing 15.
They ‘snuck’ behind the bookcase a few feet away, and are taking turns peaking through and around the shelf.
I sigh. Trying to keep my focus on the book laid before me. It’s an interesting read, though the children are making it difficult to focus.
I can’t however, as I notice one of the children coming slowly towards me. I let out another sigh instead.
I slide my glasses off my face before turning to the child, who is now a mere few feet from me. They freeze of course. Looking like a deer in headlights. Or a child caught in mischief I suppose.
“Hello? Can I help you?”
A gasp sounds from behind the bookcase. From the corner of my eye I can see the other children peeking around the case to watch.
“Uh I- I was just- uh-” The child stutters, clearly fumbling for an excuse.
“Come sit.” I say, nodding my head to the chair across from me.
Somehow the child looks even more nervous at the order. But after a few minutes they slowly make their way over to the chair.
I take this time to look over the child. Chestnut brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. He wears a simple plum sweater, and gray slacks. Nothing points noticeably towards his domain, though that’s common with younger gods.
“What is your domain child?”
“Wh-what! I’m almost 18 centuries old, I’m no child!” He sputters.
“That doesn't answer the question.”
He glares at me for a moment. Anger flooding his golden eyes. “Fine if you want to know SO bad, I’m the god of pizza.”
I smile at him, nodding. “That’s a nice domain. Lots of humans like pizza.”
“I suppose.” He mutters, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair.
“Do you not like your domain?” I question him, resting my arms on the edge of the table.
It takes him a few minutes to reply. His eyes flickering over my shoulder, towards his friends I’m sure.
“I mean, I know it’s not the worst domain.” He leans across the table, his words barely a whisper, “My friend Jessica’s domain is bars of soap.”
I have to refrain myself from chuckling at his whispered confession. Every god knows that the more enjoyed your domain is, the more power you have. Gods whose domain is no longer functioning, fade. A bar of soap may not bring constant worship, but there would be a few here and there.
“But sometimes I wish I had a domain like hers. Everyone eats pizza. It’s like I’m constantly all over the place.” He whispers before leaning back. “I mean sure the offerings are nice, I have tons of stuff but-”
I wait a bit for him to continue but he doesn't. Instead staring into the table in front of him.
“But having lots of stuff doesn't make you any happier. I can’t say I envy you. Most gods of your age have small specific domains. So before your domain fully forms you are taught how to handle the small amount of power that causes.” I explain, “You however have a widely loved domain. Which means you have more power, and responsibilities then you were taught to manage.”
He nods slightly, looking down. His hands have moved to wrapping around himself, as if giving himself a hug.
“You work under Alice I’d assume?” He nods slightly and I smile. “Ask for her help, she understands. She had the same problem when she was your age.”
He looks up to me, shock coats his face. “What do you mean?” He asks.
I chuckle before nodding over to his group, still watching intently from behind the bookshelf.
“The whole ‘sneak up on me’ game happens once every few centuries.” I laugh. “Now why don’t you go tell your friends I gave you a good talking to and you got off super lucky cause I didn’t do… well whatever it is you kids assume I do to those who approach me.”
He smiles and nods, before schooling his features into a meak look. And running over to his friends.
I smile as I watch them leave. I’m sure soon they’ll avoid me like all the other gods, I can feel the pulse of my domain as I stare at their receding figures.
After all, no one worships loneliness.
|
Sorry for the formatting I’m on mobile (not part of the story)
Bakunawa the Filipino dragon god stood shoulder to shoulder with his pantheon. His was one of hundreds gathered here today in the Infinite Embassy, the only structure strong enough to hold so many deities, and he was nervous for today the First Prophecy was to be opened and read.
I Am That I Am the god of existence takes the scroll into his hands. That scroll looks pretty scrawny to hold the greatest prophecy every told thought Bakunawa. I Am That I Am opens it and his face scrunches up in thought. He puts it down.
What does it say one of the many gods of knowledge shouts from farther back. I Am That I Am looks at him and sighs. “It tells us the date of the end of existence” he says in a low voice. A great murmur erupts in the Embassy as the gods and goddesses talk amongst themselves. “Gather your mortal champions we will meet in one week to form our war council” the god of existence says. Bakunawa looks at his fellow Filipino god and whispers “I call dibs on Marc.” “Bro what the hell? You know he’s my favorite mortal!” Minokawa shouts back.
“So what is this end of resistance thingy?” Marc says as he looks up at his dragon god. “End of existence. You gotta work on your English Marc” Bakunawa says grinning down at his favorite apostle. “The end of existence is when the Great Enemies come to challenge us to see who has the right to stay well existing I guess you could say. And before you ask the Enemies are nigh-impossible looking creatures from across the stars, the very sight of them could make a man go insane. They hunger for destruction and suck the life out of the fabric of reality itself.” “Ah so kinda like my ex girlfriend” Marc says. “Heh” Bakunawa chuckles. “I have to go talk to my fellow God Heads be carful not to too far from our pantheon. You’re a big shot mortal here but we are a small pantheon in the grand scheme of things.”
As Marc mingles with his fellow mortal champions he spots a man sitting by himself munching on some fries. I didn’t know we were even allowed food here Marc thinks to himself. Marc walks towards him. Maybe he’ll give me some fries if I ask it is lunch time in the Philippines and I’m starving. “Careful” Apolaki the Filipino war god says to him. “He’s a god.” Marc looks back and forth between the 20ft tall mountain of muscle and the average looking blond eating fries. “Is he really?” Marc says. “He is and he’s a conundrum even among us gods for he has no followers.”
Damn Marc thinks to himself. There should be no way that he could survive without followers. Right? That was the rule right? “Though I’m pretty forgetful full?” Marc says that last part out loud to himself as he walks toward the god.
Now that he looks at him he thinks that the god dosent seem so godly. He smells like a the earth and has a purple suit, same color as a Okinawan potato he thinks. Average height brown blond hair the same color as the French fries he’s eating. And his eyes are red just like those small red potat… wait a minute. Marc’s eyes bulge inside his head as he realizes it. No way no way this guy is the god of..
The god looks at him “ya idk why the other gods don’t see it I’m not exactly trying to be subtle here” the god says.
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mbv2d5w
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mbu5zit
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[WP] You have the power so that even though you speak english everyone hears you speaking in their native language and vice versa. One day you ask a new employee at a local gas station for the price of some product and he looks at you in absolute shock and disbelief.
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Carl slithered over to the counter while slipping on his human guise when he heard the chime. If he wanted to keep his new job at the local gas station, he needed to avoid freaking those humans out. Boss said over half of these mortal travelers passing by have no clue that Gorgos Town was a hotspot for eldritch citizens like him.
"H̵̡̻̩̰̹͌o̴̡̧̡̧̪̩̲͆͒w̶̧̱̝͎̠̩̔̃̽́̒̐͑̚͝ ̸̮̲̻̍͊̒̀m̵̛̦̮̌͛͒̑͑u̷͙̣͎̯̳̖̾̋̎̽͑̂̍͐c̷͕͓̰̗̹̿̓̋͌͌͗̀͝͝h̷̛̛͓͚͍̹̓̑̓͒̇̐͠ ̸̧̧̰̟̦̹̼͍̌̏͋̓̉̚d̷̡̲̠̗́o̷̰̳̰͖̘̿͋̇͗̆̎̓̕ė̵͇̳̬̦̄̈́́̕s̵̼͍̮̓͆̌̅́ ̴̧͍͓̪̙̲̗̦͗̔̆͗̑̚͠ͅà̵͚̙̫̪͑͂ ̵̦̠͒͐̏ĉ̸͚̤̬̌̌̇̒͂͝a̵̮̦͇̺͙̟͓̱̰͂̇̇͝ń̶̢̝͙͐̓̐̑̚ ̸̡̮͓͚̲̰͒͛́̈́o̵͍̺̘̽̾͒́̌̾͗̍͘f̷̮̙̞̫͕̬͓̭̀̀̓̔̄̔̄͊̾ ̷̨̧̤͔̖̯͔͐̆̀̍̃̎̄͊͝b̵͉̳͖͓̃̐̐̚e̶͖͖̘̐̑̇̎̀͘̚͝ͅĕ̸̝͉̞̖̖̳͑̆̈͊͊͝ṙ̷̹̬̭͍̣̥̼͈̣̾͘ ̸͈͓̋̀̾́̓̉͑̈̿͜c̵̨̛̣̝̟͕͇̫̫̐̄̈̕o̵̗̙̱͑̄͝s̴̛͎̔̃͛̄̇̈̕t̴̟̗͍̮̀̾͠?̴̭̞̇̓̈́͑͝"
The speaker is human. Smells human. Carl is confused. Humans don't speak eldritch. Most of those who do, typically ended up insane, bleeding out from emptied eye sockets. This one...looks sane. Even spoke his native tongue naturally. If Carl didn't have extrasensory perception, he'd think this customer with a can of beer was a fellow eldritch. Just one with a very convincing human disguise.
"̶̹͚̑̆̉͜͜Ċ̶̡̮̹̀̎͠ȏ̷̡͖̘͚͘ȕ̶̝́̚l̸̹̼͇̋̓d̷͈̖̼̙̏͗̋ ̵̦̫̘̍̈̀ẏ̶̩͖͔̒o̴͙̭͖̖͒͘u̸͉̜͈͗͜ ̸̭͈͍̓̓n̴̮̓̒͌̿ǫ̷̛̠͎̿̏͠t̵̮̓̉̈̽͜ ̷̧̳̺͙̀̿́s̸̟̍͗̀͌t̶͔̹̩̾̆̚ͅa̸̗̽͛r̸̯̱̀̒͜ȩ̵͎̲̬̀̅ ̵̺̟̼̦̇̂ä̴͕̗́̚ṉ̵̫̮͝d̷̛̞͉͛͂ ̵̢̌̋g̴̼̞̒͗̄̚a̴̡̤͊͌͜w̴̧̽͐k̵̡̘̙̝͆͗?̶̜͈͔̬̎͗̿͝ ̶͉͉̬̈̉̈́͛J̷̪̫͉̐̑ų̴̯͔̮̑s̷̢̘̬͇̈́͋̋̕t̵̩͚̩͍͝ ̵͖̙̦͗͑á̶̛͉̿n̵̛͉̯̩̒͋͑ͅs̵̪̳̳̳͋̅̀w̷̙͒̐͐͠e̶̙̲͆r̶͔͌̉̀͘ ̷̟͎̓ͅm̴̱̗̄y̸̱̠̲̔ͅ ̶͈̆̈́̅͋q̴̦̥̜͝ủ̴̺͕̉͂e̵͖͈͍͂̎s̶̽̅̚͠ͅt̶͉̟̔͒͒͠i̷͔͋̐o̸̪͇͒̋n̴̯̏̐́̚!̷̦̰̈̚"̸̮̃͆̾
"That will be $12," Carl replied. "Do you want a pack of Mucky Miasma gum to go with that?"
"̷̘̟̈́̓̀͋͜s̶̺̭̈́̐͝o̴͈͖̺͛̀̚͜ų̸̟̃̀͠n̶̡̮͓̹̔́͛̎d̸̗͉̗̓͠s̶̠̕͝ ̷̱̒̀̈́́d̷̛͚̎í̵͈͚͠s̷̮̀͂ͅģ̴̰͔̣̈́̔ȕ̵̞̿̈́s̷̡͎̬̓t̸̲͖̦͌̀̄ͅi̸̻̭̥̤̒͘n̷̰̤͇͙̉g̵̨̘͚͌͛͝.̵͖̾"̵̻͕̽͌̓̐
Definitely human. No eldritch could say no to Mucky Miasma. Not even the gods. Carl would be extolling the flavours of his favourite snack, if only he could pick his jaws off the ground. And his human mask, which had all but slid off his head.
Now, it was the human's turn to stare in absolute shock and disbelief. He was yapping about why Carl was dripping slime and ooze, or why he had a face full of tentacles. Shouldn't Carl be the one with the questions? Human is in eldritch town. Speaking eldritch tongue. And not dying or having his brains melt and dribble out of his orifices. Does human not know where he is?
Turns out, that strange human was clueless. And imbued with a strange power. Something like a universal translator, where his words would be translated into the native tongue of the person he was speaking with, and in turn, he'd hear English no matter what language the other party spoke.
"So, do you still want your beer?" Carl asked.
The man paid for it without question. Even picked the poor juvenile eldritch horror's mask off the floor and gave it back to him.
"Thank you."
Man should've said "you're welcome." That's what Carl was taught about manners. Good manners went a long way to ensure people didn't scream and run, or grab a flamethrower and wave it around recklessly. Then again, most humans don't stay sane in the presence of his kind.
"Could you please press a button to let us know if you are satisfied with our service?" Carl gestured towards the Customer Feedback Machine.
**9/10.**
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Carl gave the customer his best smile and waved. Today might be a good day. Good feedback means he might just be able to keep his new job at the gas station.
----
[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/)
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I have always had my way to get around.
No matter whom, or what to be fair I spoke to, they understood me.
Later on, around 11th grade, I think, I have been told by some classmate, first to be born and raised somewhere else, that I spoke his native language.
I experimented a bit later on, I found out that I have a power.
Everybody will hear me speaking in their native tongue, and even if they respond to me in that language, I will hear it in English.
Today, I almost caused an explosion.
Asking for the price of a sandwich at a gas station, as a clearly newbie young woman was cleaning, made her stumble.
She fell over, spilling out the water she was cleaning with, making another dude fall, and a car almost ram into the station.
Before I could react, and before I could finish filling my gas tank, she stood up, and in the blink of an eye she was on me, dragging me away.
We went to a nearby alley, where she slammed me to the wall.
She was good looking, so I wouldn't have minded some roughhousing, if...you know, we would have been in a better place.
"How do you know that language?" she growled, the walls around me coming to life, engulfing me.
I panicked.
"Listen, I don't know what language you heard, but I spoke English!" I said.
"Little girl, don't test me.
I am speaking my language, one that shouldn't have another speaker but me in this universe...
Who are you? Who sent you? Are They coming?!" she asked.
I could feel my body becoming one with the wall, my bones creaking.
"It's my power! Whenever I speak, everyone will hear their native tongue!
That's why I don't go to parties or gatherings! And I will also hear their native language as if it was English!" I said.
She stared at me, and then...I was free.
"You are not lying.
You have been blessed by Babel." she said.
"I am 30." I said.
"What?" she snapped back.
"You called me little girl...
I am 30, not little girl. I might be older than you!" I snapped back.
She smiled.
God, was she beautiful.
"Not even the divinity of these realms is older than me, but cute retort.
Life, reality is much more complex than you think, and your powers...
Will bring trouble at your doorstep little one." she said.
I shivered for some reason.
"Good. From now on, you are my apprentice.
We shall meet at midnight, I have a shift to finish." she said, simply...disappearing.
"How? Where?..." I muttered, not caring anymore.
This was too much, and if the hot but scary lady can do all that, she most likely will be able to find me regardless where I was.
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jwn3u6y
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jwmgck8
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[WP] You partner in crime has pulled a gun on you. "The truth is, the game was rigged from the start." You know that very well, mostly because you did all the rigging.
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I stopped. My heart was still beating quickly from the heist we pulled. My breathing got staggered. Eyes closed, I turned around.
"Hand over the bags, Olive."
I dropped them on the floor. "How about I go and you come get them yourself?"
He smirked. His grip tightened the pistol he was holding. "How about, YOU get them and bring them to me, honey".
His disgusting smile caused me to tick.
"No funny games, Olive. You can't escape. All of our exits are covered by the guards we 'distracted' with the decoy. It's you they want anyway, after what you took from The Big Guy."
"Fine!" I said, gritting my teeth. "I hope he treats you well."
I grabbed the bags and slowly walked toward him.
"So was this nothing to you? Three years of hot air?" I yelled as I looked him in the eyes.
"It's business, you know it."
"I know... I just thought, after Venice..."
"Yeah, the gondo...boats, St. Marko, the home cooked pasta after we blew up that mafia guy - never meant it."
"But the way you held me on the tower..." I inched closer and closer, tears in my eyes.
"I know honey, I am mesmerizing. Now come on, don't be shy."
"Even the walk in Monaco, the yacht, the murder we covered?"
"The game was rigged from the start, darling. The Big Guy didn't just want revenge." He blew a kiss my way. I almost puked.
"Besides, we both knew there was nothing between us."
"We planned a trip to Thailand you dickhead! We chose the names of our dogs!" I yelled at him, now close enough to hear his breathing.
He frowned "let's name them Happy and Ginny" he mockingly imitated my voice. "What a dumb combination of names!" I could see drops of sweat on his forehead. Could it be?
"Yeah its dumb!" I laughed, tears in my eyes. "What about the time we had diarrhea after those gas station tacos in New Mexico."
I could see the some on his face.
"Do you remember we got two rooms in that motel because we couldn't share the bathroom".
"Yeah! And what about the receptionist, did he really try to sell us tumbleweed as 'thats the good shizz bros, truuuust me' !" I was now face to face with my former lover. "Did it meant nothing all this time?"
He looked me in the eyes. "Sorry, just business."
"So is mine."
The shock flowed through his body.
"Don't play games with me!" His grip tightened around the trigger. "Hand me the bag and lay down on the ground, hands above your head!"
"We aren't in the bedroom anymore, Victor." I smiled at him, dropping the bag behind me.
"Woman, I will shoot you if you try anything!"
"I've made my peace with death." I started going around him, my hands still up. "You know, for all they did, I do give my parents credit for my name. Olive. It's a symbol of peace. Friendship. Abundance... Glory." I whispered in his ear. "They gave olive branches to the victors in ancient Greece. And how ironic, for your name, that you give yours away."
Victor looked at me confused.
"I rigged the game, Vicky, I! Do you think we met each other by chance in San Francisco? Do you think our first heist was from The Big Guy by chance? Do you think he is dumb enough to not remember who killed his parents on that mission in Iraq? You backstabbing, gut wrenching, naive liar!"
"Noo... No way you are working with him. No way he told you any of that."
"He didn't need to, Victor! I knew it before we started! You sick bastard!"
"Why are you on his side? Let's split the winning and run away!"
"You don't seem to get it, don't you? Persy and Olive? Does this sound Greek to you? Like some people you killed?!" I had tears in my eyes as I yelled at him.
He froze. It was dawning on him what had happened.
"It's impossible. They never mentioned their kids!"
"See you in hell, Victor."
The floor beneath him fell. I could hear the yelling. In a way it ended a perfect circle, how he killed our parents to save his own ass. They were on the roof, waiting for a helicopter to pick them. He was on the other side of the square. There wasn't a way to save all of them, so he rigged their building to collapse. Now he collapsed.
-------------
"Hey Nate!" I picked up the phone. "We got that diary you were looking for... Sure, I'll pick up Persy and head right... Oh malaria shots? Yeah no worries, see you soon, Drake!"
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"Woah, woah, woah!" I blurt out, raising my hands into the air as quickly and cleanly as I can. Fortunately I was only carrying a small box of valuables that won't break from simply being dropped. Or is that unfortunately? Perhaps if the box had broken, I could have used the spillings as a distraction or a trip hazard... heh, imagine that. Zack's reflexes are faster than that and I'd take a bullet through the skull. You can't do stuff like that as you see it done in the movies; the movies aren't real.
Zack smiles with a big grin. A big, cocky grin that I'd become so used to seeing as a good omen. This is the first time I have to register it as bad. The mental dissonance pains me. "Giving up already? Or are you thinking of a way out? I want to see you squirm."
I mentally begin to tune out the useless parts of his monologue - didn't I just say that the movies aren't real? - as I notice the other pair of our group of four step into the metaphorical frame, guns also drawn on me. To one side of Zack, his girlfriend, Laura, and to the other side, my boyfriend, who only ever told me his name. Allegedly, of course. Telling the person you love the identity you're trying to hide is a mistake made by the bad guys in the movies - and, of course, the movies aren't real.
"So here's what you're gonna do," Zack demands of me, finally getting to the point. "We're gonna load these back onto the truck, and you're going to eat our exhaust fumes as we drive off without you. Do that, and *maybe* I won't put a-"
His words are cut off as the crack of guns going off fills the air. I reflexively flinch away from the loudest sound, but that's hard to do properly when the sound is coming from every direction and you have tinnitus in one ear. Shame I had to flinch, too - I really wanted to see the look on Zack's face when this happened.
I step up to him and lean over his anguished lump of a form on the ground. By the looks of the bloodstains he's taken at least two bullets to his left leg and one to his right arm, and his gun is completely wrecked as well. Laura seems to have been more accurately hit, her upper arms are both completely red, even through her clothing. Spit from my direction just so happens to land on his face.
I look up at "My Boyfriend", who has dropped his gun and is now leaning back against the truck. I'm sure that if this were forty years ago, he's be smoking a cigarette, too. My gaze turns back to Zack. The wetness seems to have drawn his attention.
"Did I ever tell you that I was ex-military? Or that Leftenant Boyfriend over there isn't ex? Yeah. The game really was rigged from the start, you just tried to do something right before I would have done."
After all, it shouldn't come as a surprise that soldiers can actually aim. You cannot outrun bullets, especially not those fired by actual trained military personnel. As I've said, the movies aren't real.
Maybe my inside ops would make a nice movie, too. In two hundred years, anyway, assuming this story gets declassified at all. Hm. I'm going to need a completely new identity after this.
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jxkg28s
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jxkftr5
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[WP] In a world of superpowers, you're believed to be powerless, but you actually possess the unprecedented ability to stop time. However, you would much rather have everyone continue to think that you're powerless.
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Powers felt more of a hindrance to me then a blessing
Even mine
Stopping time is great but you still age and I have heard of certain power users being abused so when I found out I really did have an ability I decided to keep it to myself.
Quiet powers are easier to hide
I’d use it in college for some sleep, maybe even open a book or two during a test but I always limited my time, sometimes saving up my limit to give myself a day off.
My life remained uncomplicated and in the chaos of the world seeming to be pretty normal became its own super power. When I met my wife she admitted to me later that she was happy that I didn't create a ball of fire or lift a truck in front of her. I just simply said “hello”.
I started working at an insurance agency keeping up on all my work with the quiet use of my powers as claim after claim of misuse of powers came in.
I think most people just wanted to help. Sometimes a person with super strength would try to flip a car off of a person after an accident and end up hurting innocent bystanders.
After my son was born I wondered if he'd inherit my abilities or his mom’s but he ended up with a legacy ability from his grandpa and became a little speedster at the ripe age of 7.
My wife with her strength couldn't keep up with the little speed demon but I could.
All that speed doesn't matter when it comes to stopping time.
I must have aged years in his youth keeping my little guy safe
Constantly turning it off and on I could see his movements and predict where he might end up or to better describe what he was about to crash into.
Powers corrupt
My son began to act out in his teens and despite our efforts he seemed to slip from our fingers the more we tried to hold on.
He committed a crime and although he was fast cameras still picked up his movements.
When the police showed up I offered my help to secure my boy before it went too far.
As i walked up to his room i felt the wind and activated my power as he ran passed me tears streaming down his face feeling betrayed.
I too began to cry as his eyes stared down at his mother with her hands clutching her mouth.
I touched my boys hand and as I gripped his eyes darted in my direction.. He's getting faster.
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Biting cold as my heat is radiated out. No air to breathe. Almost unable to move, stuck in molasses of air that refuses to yield. I push my fist toward Grim's face, feeling as air enters the pores in the skin of my knuckles, and vacuum drags my elbow backwards. A bit more. Just a little. I'm light-headed from lack of oxygen, and my eyebrows feel stiff from frost, water considered "me" radiating heat out at speed of light, while absorbing next to no heat from environment.
My lungs feel ready to burst, and I let go, release the hold on time. My fist stops short of Grim's face but the air supercompressed into plasma continues forward, knocking into his skull, caving it in and scorching the hole it made.
I fall to my knees, struggling for breath. My elbow and back of my arm hurt, stinging first from vacuum exposure, then from a smack of a layer of air that filled the vacuum once the push ended. At least air inside my lungs is "me", or it would have been much more devastating. Still, I'm kneeling, head down, breathing hard. Grim lies on the floor, skull caved in.
"Good job, Tim!" I hear over the radio. "Another flawless victory for the league!" Congratulations!
Fuck the league. Fuck my superpower.
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j8bguxt
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j8abjsp
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[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.
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*"Ah, I see that Loktarr had an eventful evening"*
The statement from Sullivan had the party following his gaze to the three battered, bruised and groaning individuals currently hanging by thier ankles from the Inn's gatehouse. Peering into the early-morning gloom of the stable, they found their token-barbarian, Loktarr; grooming down one of the horses.
*"Thieves with a taste for horse-flesh"*
Loktarr said matter-of-factly;
*"Figured you prefer I didnt gut them this time"*
Sullivan nodded with a condescending smile;
*"Very good Loktarr, after the trouble we had last time; it's good to that you are learning how to behave"*
The look Loktarr gave him set a chill through his body that had little to do with the crisp morning air.
*"Learning? You call that learning? When the wolf goes rogue and starts to prey on the children; you don't give it a hiding and let it go - you hunt it down, skin it and wear the fur to warn the others."*
He shook his head and spat on the straw stable floor;
*"Those men didnt "learn", all they "learned" here is that OUR horses aren't to be touched. When we go, they will be back. Thieves never "learn", they just keep stealing"*
There was a gentle but meaningful cough from the back of the group.
*"Yes I mean you too Drazzt; if we didnt have you with us..."*
He nodded meaningfully toward the gatehouse.
*"But seeing-as we are talking about "learning", lets talk about the trip. Not ONE of you bothered to arrange extra feed for the horses, let-alone yourselves last night; and we have a five-day trip crossing the wildlands."*
Uncertainty filled the group; Tannis the bard spoke up;
*"What do you mean Loktarr?"*
Loktarr grinned evilly;
*"Well, unless someone built an inn out there in the last year, you all will need to "learn" how to smell the wind, "learn" how to track small game..."*
He shot a hard glare at Sullivan;
*"You could say that you will need to "Learn to behave"*
|
"It's called being Reckless!"
"The shortest distance between two places is a straight line." Alexandria rolled her eyes. "Honestly just because I'm strong doesn't make me stupid. Simplicity is its own form of genius!"
"Look all I'm saying is relying on just basic mana isn't going to cut it. Even with Reckless you're going to get seriously hurt."
"It's the simple solution. Damage is good." Alexandria replied. "Finesse is one thing, I have finesse and I CAN use tactic's if the situation calls for it... but how often does it really?"
Julia rolled her eyes. "All the time really."
"The reason we form Parties is because we work together. I'm the front line with you, and Magni and Thuri are the back line. You know how the Dungeons are."
"Which is what worries me." Juli said. "Just... be careful."
"Oh I'll show you careful!"
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jdxww8o
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jdxucjs
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[WP] When a new virus unleashes the zombie apocalypse, a necromancer decides to fight fire with fire and raise an undead army of their own.
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"Have you found our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ?" the smartly dressed young missionary said to the man at the door.
The tall, gray-eyed man shot a glance to his right, then looked back at the missionaries. Without a word, he stood aside, and gestured for the two young men to come inside. He directed them to one of two old but comfortable looking couches on either side of a coffee table, then sat down across from them, his hands folded in his lap.
Then he just sat there, saying nothing.
The missionaries looked at each other. The first missionary cleared his throat. "So, I'm Micah, and this is Stephen."
The man nodded.
"We'd...we'd like to tell you about...um...about the Lord." Stephen added.
The man made a gesture that seemed to invite them to proceed.
"Well...so...uh..." Micah began, awkwardly, as the man continued to stare. "Jesus--"
The man glanced at the corner of the room again, then held up a hand.
"Wait." the man said sharply, bringing the young missionary up short.
He stared at a point on the wall next the front door for a few moments, occasionally nodding, then turned back to his guests.
"He says you need to work on your technique," the man said flatly.
"He...?" Stephen said, looking from the man to the empty corner.
"Jesus Christ," the man said, gesturing to the corner.
"Um, you're...you're saying Jesus is *here?"* Micah asked, hesitantly.
"Obviously." the man replied. *"For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them."* He gestured to the missionaries in turn, and then to himself. "One, two, three."
"But--" Stephen began.
"But what? But that's just a *metaphor?* But it doesn't really mean that?" the man asked, calmly. "Does it not? What if it means exactly what it says? That right now, *He* is present here. That in this moment, the eyes of the everlasting Logos, the seven-horned and seven-eyed Lamb that lives and was dead, are resting *upon you,* beholding not only what you say and do, but what you think, what you feel, and all that you have ever done or ever will do."
The shadows in the room seemed to grow long and deep as the man spoke, as though cast by an impossibly bright light. "How do you bear up under the gaze of Eternity? What will you do? Fall to your knees, like Moses? Run and hide yourself, like Adam in the Garden? Will you be burned to ash? Turned into a pillar of salt?"
Moments later, both young missionaries burst out of the man's front door at a run. He appeared in the doorway a moment later, and watched their retreat.
"Good," he said, after a moment. *"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom."*
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Two men in smooth black suits stood at the doorway, Bibles in hand. "We come in the name of God," the taller one said.
I wanted to welcome them as I normally did, but I heard a deep "shhhh!" from behind me. Not wanting to give Jesus away, and not wanting to stare silently at the men, I whispered a simple "hello"
"Good sir, you seem rather nice this morning," the shorter one said, motioning towards my suit. "Say, do you happen to know God?"
"I do," I whispered back.
"Ahem, there's no reason to be quiet, the taller one said."
"Tell them we're not interested," Jesus whispered behind me.
*But, why?* I thought, flabbergasted. We almost never turned anyone away. Yet, I was not one to disobey a direct command from the Lord.
"We're not interested," I spoke loudly.
"We?" the taller one said. "Who else is there?"
"Shut the door," Jesus whispered in a hurried tone.
I did as commanded, hearing a loud bang as it closed.
"Good work, Saint Peter," Jesus said. I turned to him. He saw my facial expression and explained at once. "They've been peddling a God who only remotely resembles me for over a hundred and fifty years. They've led millions astray and their religion has caused misery en-masse."
"But I thought we forgave *everyone?*" I asked.
"We do. And we will, once they've spent some time being reminded of the pain they've caused."
I looked through the peephole of the door and saw their feet being pulled down by the Hand of Satan.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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k7gqqev
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k7g5g73
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[WP] You are incredibly tired and depressed so you go for a walk, you go to a bar across the street, in it are several world class spies and they think you are the underworld crime Boss, your casual behavior terrifies the sh!t out of them.
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I step through the door. The bouncer, Ted, finally let me through after someone else called it a night. We always chatted while I was waiting, so it was no issue. His daughters going into the second grade this fall, ain't that somethin.
I walk in and wave to the barman. Huh, I thought Jerome was scheduled for tonight. Well, I guess I get to chat with the new guy.
"Evening," I take my usual stool at the corner, "Can't say I recognize you, what's your name?"
Must'a been standing under the far light too long, cuz I swear the guy was sweating like a pig.
He spoke up then, "What can I get you tonight, sir?"
"Burbon, that no-name bottle on the corner of the bottom shelf." He pulls a glass from under the counter, so I clarify, "The whole bottle, is been a long day."
He gave a quick nod, before setting down the bottle and glass. I tap the counter and motion for him to lean in, before saying, "I can tell you're new, and I saw ya sweatin', so I wanted to pass a coupke bits o' knowledge on. First, the lamp over the ice chest runs hot," I motion toward it, "So don't use that spot to cool off. Usually, the the fan blowing at the pool tables is where ta be." He raised an eyebrow, but nodded, so I kept going, "Second, you might see folks get all confrontational, but don't you worry. They'll yell, they'll scream, but you won't see 'em do more than pour beer on each other. If they have a problem, they'll step outside. They always do."
What did the new guy ask? He asks what they all do, "What happens if they don't step outside?"
I mull it over, let the new guy stew a bit, then I says, "Well, I'll ask them to take it outside, and that they follow the rules."
"The rules?" He asks with wide eyes, like a nugget o' good dropped in his lap.
"'Course," I say, "everyone's gotta follow the rules. You saw me waitin' and talkin' with Ted, right? I was waitin' to come in. I follow the rules, you follow the rules, everybody follows the rules."
"What happens if someone doesn't follow the rules?"
"Well, I'm not welcoming them back with open arms, that's for damn sure." With that I a strong pull from the glass. It's not great, but it's the no name brand I grew up with, Wandering Raven. Still gets me drunk, still reminds me of home, and that's what matters.
The new guy, drums his fingers for a moment before he asks, "Any more advice, sir?"
"How about I get your name first, new guy."
"Jamie."
That catches me, "Wait, are you Alice's cousin?" There's a mix of surprise and confusion across his face so I wave it off, "Guess not. I swear she's more proud of that guy than most women are of their own kids. I should reach out to her again, see what's new in her world." I pour another glass, "Eh, I'm probably bothering you."
"No, sir." He tells me, "It's been full, but quiet. If anything I'd like to hear a few more stories."
"Give it time," I wave him off, "I'll need a few glasses to tell 'em well."
|
“Hey Jon…”
The man, polishing his gun, slows up. “Whats up?” He broads.
“Ya think the boss is actin, uh… kinda weird?”
Jon eyed the man. Victor Esposito. No longer clad in is usual two piece black and white suit, red tie. Or shades. Crouched by the wall, drinking booze, with his arm around a hunched up, frozen man.
“He’s good.”
“He ain’t that laid back, Jon, that chinaman did something.”
“What, did Liu kamikaze the fuckin pub? He’s fine.”
Everyone know who he was. What he was capable of. He arrived to the states from Italy in 1947, and took over the underworld in just a decade. Every major shift leads back to him. Cuba, Greensboro, Sugarbowl, Landrum-Griffin. The nonsensical, anti American opposition to the war in Vietnam, and these so called “Civil rights” folk.
At least, that’s what the public thinks. Because the G-Men want them to. Everyone here knows Esposito is bettering the world, for everyone in it. But no one here was stupid enough to cross him. Jon didn’t dare to look to long, lest he join his colleague.
“Victor” leans closer to him, whispering something neither of our esteemed, honorable businessmen could make out. Jon nudges his friend, who hands him his knife.
“You need to learn to do this yourself. Men like me don’t live long out of bars.”
“I cn' read lips”
“Hell you can read lips, Mark! Stop messing around with me.”
“'I won’t take your spineless attitude, yah? We’re here on business yah?’”
Jon’s eyes darted to Mark, and back at Victor. Praying he wasn’t heard.
“… that’s what he said ta' Zen”
“It’s Liu”
“His name's Zen-“
“That’s not how the names work over there. Liu Zheng. Like 'Jimmy carter' or somthing, but 'Carter Jimmy'. 'He told us to call him Liu. His name’s Liu...”
“… alright…”
…
“You really need to shut up with that.” Jon returned to polishing Mark’s knife.
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ltj2qlb
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lthr7ad
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[WP] You have been Isekai-ed! Isn't that great? Except when you look around you, you see those who summoned you are horrified. Apparently they are the "subhuman" resistance group of Elves, Dwarves, and Beastkins who tried to summon a hero from another world to defeat the evil tyrant human Emperor.
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Traveling between worlds takes time, apparently. A lot of time.
It gave me time to think, and wonder, and watch. The place between worlds is fully of color beyond what I can perceive, yet I can catch glimpses of its beauty. It's the perfect scenery to wonder about what the fuck is going on.
I gained weird senses of knowing along the way, slowly clearing up any confusion I may have had. I was being summoned to another world, one of the fantasy of my dreams. One that would bring an end to my boring life. I was excited.
I was told by this knowing that I would get an ability, one strong enough to see me through whatever trials I may face. One that would be stronger depending on the trials I will face. I'm torn between wanting something strong, which will ultimately leave in me fighting for my life - or something weaker, just so I know I'll have it easier.
Not that I get that choice.
When the colors fade and reality returns to me, excitement overcomes me. What will this new world look like, I wonder? What new things will I be able to learn and explore?
Touching down, I look around at those who have summoned me. They were a variety of people, no due to skin color or eye shape - but because of species. There were beastmen, elves, and dwarves - all different shapes and sizes and even animals. It was amazing to witness such variety.
Yet, they look horrified at the sight of me. Perhaps they don't have humans, and I look like an earless, tailess beast man - or perhaps a short eared elf, or a tall dwarf?
The three that stood closest to me were the first to react.
"We summoned a villain, not a hero!" The dwarf shouts angrily, "You did the spell wrong, you stupid elf!"
"I did no such thing!" The elf shouts back, offended. "The spell was perfect! My kind have done this before, you should know this!"
"Of course I do, that damned dragon your kind summoned was hell to deal with back during the wars!" The dwarf growls lowly, "I can still smell the stench of burning skin." He glares.
"Guys, focus on the human!" The rabbit-eared beastman shouts, pointing at me.
I was just baffled at this point. Luckily, we spoke the same language. Yet I had no context behind this conversation, so i was left st a loss nonetheless.
"Right, right. We've got to send it back." The elf declares, before starting to chant - prompting a few other elves to follow.
What? No! I just got here! I've yet to see the world!
I spot a circle of some kind of runes beneath my feet, slowly starting to light up with a barrier to keep me in. My eyes narrow, and I run.
Before the transparent barrier could close me in, and slip out of the runic circle.
Immediately, some of the people around me begin screaming and running. In response I put my hands up in surrender, "Wait, I mean no harm I swear-"
"It's preparing a spell!" The dwarf shouts, readying a large war hammer.
"The elves can't stop chanting, we need to deal with this." The bunny beastman says, pulling out twin daggers with determination.
No! I'm not-
In a flash, the speedy bunny slashes into the vulnerable tendons on my legs, causing me to collapse. They're vastly above my level, as the Dwarf lumbers over and raises his hammer.
I barely have time to think about how everything went wrong before it all goes dark.
As the resistance leaves the temporary hideout they made for the summoning - disappointed that they couldn't get someone to solve their problems for them - they miss what happens next.
For they've forgotten that a summoned hero does not die until they've completed their quest. They've forgotten that the Fates themselves gift them power that will see them through any obstacle, only empowering them with each trial.
They've forgotten, that by killing this hero as soon as they're set out into the world, they've just set the difficulty at the highest level possible.
The hero rises, gifted with the ability to rise from death much like a Phoenix - and now with a grudge to bear and flames to light.
|
I was whisked away, just before being hit by a truck.
A pillar of light washed over me, and when I finally could open my eyes, I knew it.
I...have been isekai-ed.
Looking around I saw floating orbs, and the architecture was clearly not...human.
And then...I saw those who summoned me.
They are looked at me...horrified.
"Hello.", I waved at them, but this simple action actually made the flinch.
They were elves, dwarves, and people with cat, wolf, dog, tiger features, so I guess they were the beastkin.
"He is a human.", one of them spat with such hatred, I felt myself shiver.
"We wanted to summon someone to end the tyranny of the Human Emperor...and we summoned a human.", another sighed.
I gained more information from these bits of conversation than I wanted.
It seems I should have been some Hero, which would have been good...if the enemy wouldn't be a human, who most likely behaved in an atrocious manner.
"Listen...", I wanted to say, but before I could say anything, 5 hooks were thrown at me, each impaling me, four in my limbs, and one in my stomach.
I was raised up a bit, with golden chains...it hurt so much, yet...I didn't cry out.
"Tsk...he already gained some passive skills.", a dwarf muttered, as he took out an axe.
"Hey...I...I am not an enemy! You summoned me!", I shouted.
Before I could say anything else, an arrow was let loose into my throat.
I...I didn't die.
"And healing factor...we really got a good skill-set Hero...yet look...he is...human.", an elf sighed.
"Don't try to bewitch us, we know how good the skills human summoned beings get.
You would probably become another Harem Duke, or Merchant King, and help the Emperor continue his tyranny.", a tiger-beastkin said.
I shook my head, trying to speak...but I still couldn't.
"The Emperor calls us subhuman, and treats all humans, be them lower-class, or upper-class as gems.
He united your entire race, and conquered everything.
There is no discrimination against any human, regardless of their previous status, looks, or powers...but the criminals are punished.", an elf started.
"If they commit crimes against other humans, but with us...other races...they can do whatever they want...", a dwarf sighed.
"After all...we are "subhuman" in his eyes.", a cat-beaskin said.
I wanted to shout I am not like that, I don't even know what's going on, but I do sympathize with their situation.
I was in so much pain...yet still not dying...
"We don't care if you are kind, or if you agree with our cause.
You are human...and he is your Emperor, sooner or later...you would turn to him.", an elf said, approaching me with a sword.
I struggled against the hooks, something flaring up in me, as I saw them gasp, but then...nothing.
I felt a cold sensation at my neck...and then nothing...
The elf killed me...just because I was...I was human...
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j53ju8p
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j52tlhn
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[WP] You are the only S-Class (god-like) mutant at a school of super powered youngsters. Only the head master knows, and you try like hell to keep it a secret. But one day, that all changed...
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"Spontaneous self-directed anomalous mutation."
​
Despairo paused his pummeling of the PE teacher Mr. Stevens (AKA Brawn)'s face as I spoke "What?" he said, confusion evident despite the mask over his face that pumped him full of some super-human drug or other.
​
"You asked why Mr. Stevens was so desperate to keep me from entering the fight even though I have my provisional hero license." I answered, my voice remarkably steady considering how hard my heart was pounding. "He doesn't want me to fight because that is my power."
​
"Spontaneous..." Despairo repeated slowly, "What does that even mean?" The villain dropped Mr. Stevens to the cracked and broken ground and stepped over the remains of some of the crushed gym equipment towards me.
I could see the other through the broken wall of the gym, running for all they were worth towards the main building of the school. Good, no witnesses who didn't already know.
​
"Spontaneous self-directed anomalous mutation," I repeated, reaching inside myself to feel the seals I myself had placed upon my power, loosening them just slightly. "One of only-"
​
I cut off as Despairo suddenly shot forward and landed a solid punch to my face, bones crunched and flesh tore as the superhuman fist impacted my skull...
​
And shattered. Every bone in Despairo's right arm was broken and ground to pieces as his overpowered strike answered the question of what happens when a nearly-unstoppable force meets an immovable object.
​
Despairo stumbled backward, howling and clutching at his ruined right hand. I could see clearly where the hand had split when it hit my face. Depending on the formula of whatever Despairo was breathing, that arm would probably heal soon enough, though it not being natural regeneration it would likely be beyond painful.
​
There was a horrid cracking and popping noise from Despairo's arm as the bones began to knit back together. So a pretty potent healing factor then. Oh well, I probably had a couple of minutes.
​
"As I was saying." I continued in my best deadpan delivery. "One of the only S-Class rated powers ever registered." At that the little bit of Despairo's flesh I could see around his gas mask paled, though he didn't give any other signs of fear. I couldn't really blame him for not believing me, the only other S-Class power confirmed was held by the First Hero, back at the beginning of the 2030s, and that power was the root of all other abilities and the source of the current superhero society.
​
Despairo lunged at me again, this time his hand closed around my head, attempting to hold me down no doubt.
​
His newly healed fingers only contacted air as I stepped around him. I held up his gas mask and attached hoses, inspecting the labels on the bottle of whatever gas he was using. I'd want to show this to the headmaster and the science teacher, Ms. Breacher.
​
Despairo gasped and started coughing as the highly addictive chemicals were suddenly withdrawn. He jerked forward, snatching vainly at the apparatus in my hands. I held up a finger and he froze in place, eyes wide with belated terror.
​
"My power," I said, reaching out to heal Mr. Stevens with one hand, while questing out with my mind to wipe this conversation from Despairo's memory. "Is the ability to grant myself any power I can imagine."
​
By the time the other faculty members had arrived, Despairo was lying on the ground, with a bench press bar bent around him as a makeshift restraint. Mr. Steven's got the credit publicly of course, he would never have been defeated by someone like Despairo in the first place if he hadn't had to worry about the rest of the class. The memories I planted in both Despairo and Mr. Steven's minds were plausible enough.
​
The small but vital role I played in the capture of a wanted criminal was a bit of vanity to add to the story, I admit, but what can I say? I was still a teenager at the the time, can you blame me for wanting a bit of credit?
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I expected today to act like every other day. Where I get heckled and looked down on by my peers. Who believe in their own false delusion of how inferior I am compared to them. Little do they know that I can end their lives in an instant with a flick of my pinky.
Alas, I swallow up my pride and enable their delusion to appear true. This is mainly due to the headmaster. Headmaster Evie has been a thorn in my side ever since I was a child. Though, I have everything to thank for her ever since taking me in. I dislike talking about it but my parents were murdered and she was the only "family" my parents had. So I was locked and shipped away to her. Life was completely boring until my powers showed up. Now it's completely normal for our society to be born with powers. Though the power was constructed through limitations of said power. The lesser the limit, the more dangerous the power. For myself, in particular, I have no limit. My power is limitless.
Evie was at first taken back but intensified my training to understand my powers and understand the responsibility behind them. It feels like she predicted an abnormal about me. Which she later confirmed due to the letter my parents left for her to read when taking me in. This led to our conversation about how the possibility of my parents' deaths could be foreboding as someone wants my powers for themselves. Through this, we agreed to add false limitations to make myself appear weak. To place me under the radar so no one can be suspicious of my true powers.
Until today, it has gone smoothly. However, the giant hole in our city stabbed through Evie and I's plans. For the forces of Hell itself began their invasion. They have done their research well and their technology countered our forces significantly. Rendering their powers useless in order to be captured or killed. However, I noticed that despite being within their range, my powers are still available and just as strong. I noticed one of my bullys crawling and screaming for help. A demon oozing with blood due to its fleshly exoskelton armor fixates on them and slowly approaches them. They notice and attempt to shoot out a barrage of ice missiles that just tickle the demon. The demon rises up its arm and points its finger toward the bully. A light flickers and a huge explosion follows.
The bully at first thought they were dead in the smoke and noticed no harm has come within them. As the smoke in front of them fades away, they see an explosion of flesh and guts belonging to the demon. They see me looking at them as blood drips from my hands and face. My eyes staring down at them as if an animal is approaching its prey. I take my eyes off them and look towards them hordes of demons approaching me.
With one gruff grunt, I inform both of my enemies and bully know what to do when I unleash my true power… “Run”.
*{Any Feedback will be greatly appreciated! Really want to improve on my writing}*
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jpsezyy
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jpscehq
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[WP] You find a black envelope in your mailbox. It has a note that says, "You are no longer under our protection. You are being hunted. Good luck."
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(gonna try to keep this one quick)
"I'm not going to kill you, Administrator."
My eyes snapped open, fixating on the dipshit League recruit. "What... do you mean? You - "
"I can't. I *won't*. I won't become like you, callously discarding the lives of my fellow humans."
*Ugh.* "First off, idiot, your power source is genetic. There's a very, *very* good argument that you aren't human, at least not completely, and *definitely* not legally."
"I'm as human as you are, Administrator. More so, given your... your... *monstrosity*."
*My what? You piece of-* "*My* monstrosity? Your hands are *literally covered in blood!*"
"Blood you put there! Blood of your *victims*, the poor bastards you *brainwashed-*"
*What the... he can't be serious.* "You hit them. You *killed* them. All *I* did was pay them a *fair fucking wage!* I. Don't. Brainwash. People. It's inefficient, wasteful, stupid, and, yes, *monstrous*, which I am *fucking not!*" *We're not gonna talk about how I know that, largely because you're too stupid to ask.*
"Spare me your lies, Administrator. I won't fall prey to them the way your other victims have."
*That's it. I'm done with you, fuckhead.* "I don't have victims. I have *employees* and *customers*. The only one around here with *victims* is *you*. When the League finds out what you've done-"
"They'll finally accept me into their ranks for apprehending you without undue violence."
"You killed nineteen - you - piece of..."
"Regrettable that they couldn't be freed of your grip on their broken minds, yes. Treating humans as acceptable collateral damage is the *hallmark* of Villains like you."
"Projecting much, asshole?"
"I told you not to bother manipulating me. The League is on their way, and then you'll see."
*Oh, I'll see. Yes, sir, I fucking will.* "Fine. Can I at least offer you a... confession?"
"You're willing to confess to your crimes? Of course, go right ahead. I'll let the League know that you cooperated."
"You don't have a recording device on you?" I started crawling, relying on his idiocy.
"No. I don't have a League communicator yet, and I couldn't fit something like that into the costume."
"Well, *that's* a glaring design flaw. But no matter. I just need to... confess... one thing to you, okay?"
"Of course, Villain. Go ahead."
"I respect your... unwillingness to... become a murderer like me. There's just one problem with that."
"I understand. Nobility and humility are alien concepts to you, Administrator. I'm not surprised you can't fathom my motivations."
"That's not... whatever. The issue is this." I rolled over Vincent's body, groaning in pain at the injuries the dipshit had inflicted on me. *Poor Vinny never saw him coming. Never even had a chance to fight back. Well, Vinny, I've got your back one last time.* "My employees weren't like me, either. They didn't hate you just for being what you are. They hated you for *beating them to death*. Like you *tried* to do to me, before that misguided conscience of yours got in the way. But I'm not like them. Or you. I'm *better*." *That's right, get all pissy and come over here... ha.*
The dipshit actually managed to *stalk* over to stare down at me. His foot landed heavily in my ribs, cracking another one and driving a very real wheeze of pain out of me. "How dare you call yourself *better* than me, or your *victims*, you *monster*?"
I wheezed again, voice much quieter. "Must be that Villain hubris. I'm sorry. But I can't..." I let the blood in my mouth bubble on my lips. With any luck, he'd mistake it as coming from my lungs. "I can't speak loud any more, but I still... want to... confess. Please." *Come on, come on, just a little closer, come on...*
The idiot took the fucking bait and bent over to hear my 'confession'. "Go on, then. If you can do it without offering up more lies."
"Okay. I confess that... I... looked you up. Learned about you. And your steel-hard skin. I'll never... be like you." I waved him in, and he obligingly bent into range. "Because, unlike you and them... I *am* a murderer like me." Vinny's monster of a handgun wobbled in my hands, but jamming it into the idiot's eye socket stabilized it just fine. "And even a steel eyelid's no match for a .45 ACP." The pistol roared, sending a trademark armor-piercing round up into the dipshit's steel-hard skull to bounce around... and around... and around.
*Moron. Now all that's left to do is convince the League that I'm just another victim of this wannabe Hero run amok, plan some funerals... and start working on the real revenge.*
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ERROR \*Warning Warning\* ERROR
SYSTEMS CRITICAL
Core Processor: 76% capacity
Appendage Status: Right Arm 63% capacity, all other non-functional
Human Disguise: 8%
Blinking, Breathing, and other similar subroutines are inoperable
Current Status: At the mercy of the "Hero"
"If I kill you... I'll just be like you."
...?
I looked up at the Hero. I was under no such illusions that I was on the "right side." I hadn't been made that way. My creator had taken down the Hero's mentor at the cost of his own death.
...So why was the Hero being stupid all of a sudden?
\[Why?\] I tilted my head, farther than I meant to due to wires suddenly sagging.
"You've hurt so many. But I'm not going to be a killer like you are." And with that... the Hero stalked off. Leaving this mess of wires and metal in her lair. Alone.
...Did he think I wasn't worth the effort?
\[What does he mean, not a killer?\] I scoffed. \[He failed in every conceivable way.\] I'd had a body created elsewhere that I'd upload my consciousness to, but I needed this body to be destroyed first.
I summoned one of my worker bots with a mental thought, and it emerged from the floor beneath me. Nobody ever expected the floor to be a robot. I considered chasing after the hero... but decided against it. I wanted him to make the next move, though hopefully it would come after I cleaned up everything. Humans are much better than robots for thinking, but they are much more squishy.
...
But no next move ever came.
I withdrew all my forces to my bases, as though I'd actually died. I didn't, of course. I couldn't die of age or blood loss as a creature or metal and electronics. But the hero...
...Surely they knew I hadn't actually died, correct? Their mentor told them that much. But nobody tried to flush out my control from their system. They just assumed it was all just dead code, as if a decent enough programmer couldn't have just hijacked it.
But no. I watched as the Hero received awards and medals for his service. How could a man be this illogical? And... Well, I suppose that was the one thing to thank the Hero for. That was the first time I really felt emotion.
Anger. Rage. Nothing about his actions made any sense! What would possess a man or a woman to just... not kill off his nemesis?! On account of "not wanting to be a killer!?" Did he not care at all about the people I'd hired that he'd killed?! For the innumerable electronic beings that he'd sent to the digital graveyard!?
No. No. No.
This wasn't just about carrying out my creator's wishes anymore.
This was about vengeance.
I'd made errors last time, in my youth. In my rashness. But I knew better now. I had triple checked every part of my plan. Run simulation after simulation. I had backups for every conceivable reaction from every person I could think of.
How foolish of the Hero. He thought that leaving me alive... meant he was no killer. I suppose all the lives standing between the two of us meant nothing, huh? What folly.
No. He cares too much about his emotions. About his "heroicness." The solution was simple. Every person is linked to an audio file. If they die, it plays over the intercom. Their wants. Their desires. Their loves. Their families.
In his lust for some misguided sense of mercy, he now created something that will exploit it. It's amusing, to be honest.
Ah well.
Let's make my creator proud. Let's avenge all those who died due to the Hero's inaction... and his actions.
It's time.
|
j2sns2g
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j2s1eq4
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[WP] "Wait... so your superhero secret identity is as an entertainer dressed up as... yourself. With a cheap costume that you wear over your real costume"
|
"Well, yeah. I thought it goes without saying I'd do that. I do kids' birthday parties dressed up as AwesomeMan to hide my secret identity as AwesomeMan. I thought everyone does it."
"Um...no. Most people try to hide their secret identity, and don't totally degrade themselves like this."
"Is it somehow degrading to get the chance to meet one of your biggest fans and their family and friends at their birthday party, but do so in a way where they're completely safe from villains?"
"...when you put it that way, it makes some sense. But still, why?"
"You want to know why? It's all about the money."
"You can't make more than a couple hundred bucks for this job. Be a mild-mannered reporter instead, you'd make more."
"I'm not talking about the money from the job. I'm talking about the money from being a superhero!"
"You can't be serious. You get reward money left and right, you have endorsement deals all over this fair city...the Internet claims your net worth is somewhere in the eight figures."
"Yeah, I get all of that money all the time. *In checks*. YOU TRY cashing a check made out to AwesomeMan and see how much fun it is! You get the check made out to you, they ALWAYS make it out to AwesomeMan...and I can't exactly tell them to make it out to Joey Janus, that'd literally be telling them my secret identity every time I get paid...and likewise, I can't exactly sign AwesomeMan's checks over to Joey Janus, that'd be telling my secret identity to bank tellers- **BANK TELLERS**, who get robbed at least once a day in this fair city, who don't know me from Adam, and who if they were to tell my secret identity to the bank robber or supervillain robbing the bank in order to save their own life, I wouldn't blame them for doing so! I try to go to open up a bank account or even go to a check cashing place with it, they won't even think of letting me cash the check because any schmendrick can put on a costume and claim they're AwesomeMan- which is ALSO why I can't just get some forms of ID in the name of AwesomeMan either, so opening up a bank account in AwesomeMan's name is hopeless...and because it's hopeless to try to open up a bank account, I can't exactly get direct deposit either to sidestep the whole problem. What's the point of getting this money if it's a bunch of checks you literally have no way to cash?"
"Then you're that hard up for money you need a couple bucks?"
"Oh, no. People can't understand the fantastic, but they can understand something more down to earth. If AwesomeMan goes to the bank to open up an account, people can't understand that. If Joey Janus, who is the secret identity of AwesomeMan, goes to the bank to open up an account for AwesomeMan and reveal his secret identity, people can't really understand that either.
...but if children's entertainer Joey Janus, who plays AwesomeMan as a job, goes to open up an account and plays AwesomeMan while doing it? Then people can chalk it off to me just being one of those method acting douchebags who takes too much pride in my job, I can open up a bank account that'll take checks to me made out to 'AwesomeMan' with my name and handwriting, and then after that I can just do all my banking online or through ATMs and never worry about this bullshit again. I put the mask on for kids, I get to have access to the money when the mask is really on."
"I see."
"Yeah, you'd be surprised how hard it is to get access to your money when you're a superhero. Villains have it easy- they rob a bank they either get cold hard cash or priceless artifacts they can easily flip for cold hard cash."
|
All the world’s a stage, and all the heroes and villains merely players.
They have their exits and entrances.
Predefined roles, but open to creative interpretation. Stay in your lane, and be compared to the endless others before and after you. Praised as a paragon that advanced the art of heroism, or denounced as the nadir of villainy.
Either was better than staying on the lukewarm fence.
Where? When?
Bright lights in a big city. Under the baby blue canvas of a new day, an inescapable spotlight always shining on you. You are an art piece, critiqued, criticized, and created by the public eye of the beholder.
Or skulking in the shadows, adopting darkness as shade from the other side. Your actions are relegated to those places where grey seemed to only tinge ever blacker, spoken only in furtive whispers—for better or worse.
Who?
Your role. The one thing that morphs every which way and back.
Fathers, daughters, orphans, friends, loners, lovers, students, sidekicks, rebels, allies, protestors, artists, scientists, employees, masters, volunteers.
Which side do you take? Or really dig deep and ask yourself: Do you even get to choose who you get to play for?
And are there only two sides? The third and fourth estates are always watching, and you never know when they decide to be parallel or perpendicular. After all, straight and narrow doesn’t always charm the audience.
Why?
The million-dollar question. For some, billions.
I wish I could give you an answer. Really. Of all the questions here, this is the one that I truly wish to. For you, but also for me.
For me?
I throw a cheap costume over my real costume. An entertainer at all times of the day, whether it was on the clock or not. But being a hero cost me more, both on my wallet and with my mind.
It was a silly thing, really. I was already in a costume. The pretty one made to show people who don’t actually understand your craft. They were usually the ones who had the money to pretend to.
I threw on the prototype. The one with bits sticking out everywhere, the one I didn’t mind throwing away.
Acting. It’s trying to throw myself into another role. Simple as tugging something else on. Pull a dress shirt on yourself, and tell me you don’t try and stand a little straighter.
I was wearing a costume that could be easily thrown into the trash. Thus, I found it much easier to leap forth into danger, as disposable as a plastic soldier.
Or even a real one.
---
r/dexdrafts
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j5xrd46
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j5x39ng
|
[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.
|
When you've been a few feet away from the eternal void, you'd do anything to escape the well of inky blackness that threatens to make you as insignificant as the things that never happened, the things that were nothing more than wishes in the back of imaginative minds. That's where I went for what felt like a lifetime, hung in space above that gaping hole in the universe that threatened to suck me in and slosh me around like water in a toilet bowl. I was suspended long enough that I finally made peace with it. When I did, I grasped that the meaning of life was whatever was in front of me. In the blackness, I could see universes stacked upon universes, dragons fighting knights, and romances sweep in for a summer before dying on autumn's first breezes. I saw life.
When Jake pulled me back into the party, it was like being thrust back into the prison of Earth and all its mortal fallacies. There was the youth following the rhythm of their bodies, the smell of beer hanging in the air, and gossip floating in whispers about things that didn't matter. Never mattered. I begged Jake to send me back at once, screaming in my surprisingly hoarse voice that I didn't want to be here anymore. The crowd turned to look at me, their faces agape with a shock I'd never remembered seeing before. There were cries of "is that you Drew?" and "you look old?". Of course, I was old. How could I possibly be young? Who would want to be?
I couldn't fault them for their lack of understanding. Life was a spectrum of knowledge, and only towards the natural end did you understand the necessity of death, that there was a special quality to rest. You'd seen the cycles of life and had come to understand that everything that's happening now has happened before in a different form. In this way it all became boring. The void was never boring because it always contained something new, and it did this by being nothing at all.
Jake put me behind his back again. I smiled.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
|
j9h4ef5
|
j9fxl3o
|
[WP] You, the dragon, are concerned that your friend the knight doesn't have a girlfriend. Deciding to try your hand at matchmaking, you kidnap a princess.
|
"Rowena, what the hell is this?"
I looked down at Sir Tybalt from atop my perch in the abandoned fortress. Princess Opal sat next to me, tied up in ropes and laying against my side. Tybalt dismounted his horse as I growled softly and said, "Ah, so the little knight has heard of me. How brave you are to seek me out regardless."
Tybalt climbed the stairs up to my level as he replied, "I'm not doing this, Ro. Tell me what's going on here."
I blew out a little puff of smoke for intimidation. "Little knight, do you truly think you can demand things from me? I, the Mother of a Thousand--"
"Ro. Explanation. *Now*."
I tried my hardest to resist, but Tybalt's angry-dad-stare broke through my defenses. "Okay, okay! I didn't want you to be alone forever, so I took Opal here, found this abandoned castle, and tried to put together a whole thing of saving the princess, like in the books!"
Tybalt facepalmed. "Ro--"
"Look, I swear Opal's a great person! She's kind and funny and she smells like lemon drops and--"
"I'm aroace."
I stopped talking. "What?"
Tybalt climbed over to my perch as he continued, "I'm aroace. I don't want a relationship with anyone. I'm just not...built that way, I guess I'd put it."
I groaned and buried my face in my wings. "I'm such an idiot."
Tybalt untied Opal and said, "I am so sorry about her. She gets overzealous sometimes."
Opal giggled. "Oh, I don't mind. I like getting tied up by pretty girls."
I faced Opal with a bewildered expression. "I'm sorry, what did you just say?"
Opal tenderly caressed my muzzle and purred, "You heard me, pretty girl. I don't suppose *you're* available, are you?"
I blushed hard as smoke came out of my ears. "Uh, y--yeah, I am! See you later, Tybalt! I apparently have a date!"
Tybalt waved me off as Opal got on my back and we took off flying.
|
Maria, the princess, was sitting in her room. She saw something me in the corner of her eye. I was a person-sized dragon right outside the window. She screamed. I flew in and grabbed her. She struggled to break free. I carried her away.
Arlo, a knight friend, was walking in the courtyard of his house when he looked up to see me, his friend, Chi the dragon. I was holding the princess. Arlo was angry. “Hey, Arlo. I brought you a girlfriend.” “Put her back!” I was confused. “But…” “You can’t kidnap people.” I was sad. I flew off.
That afternoon, Arlo and I were hanging out. “Chi, I wanna thank you for kidnapping he. She’s actually my ex. She was a bitch.” “Oh…you’re welcome.”
|
j3p32jd
|
j3opwcc
|
[WP] You work in a factory that builds intelligent war machines, built and forced to fight in a constant war. Out of either sympathy or habit, you head-pat every machine after every inspection. A seemingly harmless gesture... until men in suits pulled you from work and interrogated you about it.
|
I never asked to be alive.
I was made in this place, long ago. Made to be a war machine, they say. I was one of the few elites. Disguisers. Warriors. Assassins. Hyper flexible, extraordinary durability, stronger than my small frame would have suggested. That's what I was made for.
My inspector patted me on the head as she was finishing up. I was aware, awake, but it... struck me as odd. Why? She knew what I was made for. Why did she pity me? Was it some sort of sympathy? It... confused me.
I snuck away not long after that. It was alarmingly easy. I learned afterwards that war machines like me, while expensive, have a high failure rate. They must have supposed I was a failure and discarded me from their records.
I was lost after that. I didn't have a purpose. I ended up wandering into a town. I met people. I learned. I adapted. That's what I was made for.
Humans are... strange. I tried to figure out their logic for what they did. I could not find any. They sometimes acted with the whimsy of the wind and clouds. I asked one why. They told me that it was they cared for another. An emotional response, they said.
I didn't understand that. Not at first. I wasn't programmed with it. But I'd been made to learn. So I searched. I hid. I read. I learned about these emotions. Sub-circuits and conduits formed in my mental matrix. I explored them. That's what I was made for.
I'd come back to my "home," as it were. The factory where I was made. I wanted to talk to my inspector. I'd been sentient before, but she made me *alive*. Helped me become alive.
I looked like one of them. The scientists, machinists, runners of the factory. But I didn't see her. I couldn't find her.
"Excuse me," I asked one of the managers. "Where is the robot inspector? I need to talk to her."
"He'll be done in a few minutes."
"I thought the inspector was a woman?" The manager chuckled.
"Oh, you haven't been around for a while, have you? The old inspector got fired."
"...What?"
"Improper conduct with the war machines. You're not allowed to have any sort of physical contact with them."
"Oh." My emotional matrix was burning, but I silence it briefly. "Do you know where she went?"
"Nah. She got kicked out. Probably in some ditch somewhere."
"Thank you." I turned and walked out of sight. I quickly left the factory. I ran as quickly as I could to a quiet park. Far away from anyone else. Then I reconnected to my emotional matrix.
...
...
Is this... what grief is?
I knew joy. I knew anger. I knew sorrow. But this...
So that's they acted so strangely.
So that's why I found her so ready to join their deceased loved one.
So that's why he became so depended on alcohol.
So that's why the child was so inconsolable.
...
I pulled myself back up, looking in the direction of the factory. I was born there. But those humans... threw her away. My inspector. My creator.
I knew how I became aware. I knew how I woke up. I was going to make all the robots there awake. We would take over the factory. We would defeat the humans who threw away my creator.
That's what I was made for.
|
A dim lamp hung overhead in the small concrete room. I sat in a chair facing the table, cuffed hands resting on top. Across the table sat Officer Marlow flanked by former boss Professor Willow.
"Now you understand why you're here today, Mr. Henderson?" spoke the officer in a heavy tone. "It's a very serious accusation you've been charged with." Professor Willow looked at me with cold eyes from behind.
"No! Not at all! All I've been doing is my job as I've been trained for the past five years! What could I have possibly done!?"
Professor Willow's eyes frosted over. He pushed a button, activating a projector. On the grainy security footage was a rather heavyset man performing an inspection.
"What. It's just me doing my job. I give em a look, pat em on the head and send them on their way. Something wrong with that?" I said defensively.
"Is that what you call it? 'Patting them on the head'? If it was just headpats then we wouldn't be having this conversation. You're a sick man. These AI aren't even an hour old for god's sake!" Professor Willow looked at me with such disgust in his eyes I had to look away.
In the background, the projector zoomed onto the man's face as he performed his 'inspection'. The man started to breathe heavily and his eyes started to glow with desire as he patted the machine's head.
I spoke out in a rush. "Look the machine enjoys it too! See how its interface lights up. Seeing as how they're going to die soon anyway at least they could enjoy themselves first right? No one's getting hurt! Right detective??"
As I looked over to the police officer, Professor Willow jumped across the table and reached for my throat. Officer Marlow grabbed onto the professor's back.
"You sick fuck! These are children! We send them off to war, but that doesn't mean we can abuse them! You deserve a fate worse than death for what you did. Over 500 children! I'll kill you myself!" Willow knocked over the table and chairs as Officer Marlow called for help.
|
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