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j6hnudz
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j6h9qgd
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[WP] When the zombie apocalypse broke out, people rushed to army surplus stores for kevlar vests and guns. You however go to your local Medieval Times and stock up on chainmail and blades.
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Kinda short but I love this idea!
\_\_\_
There's a lot to consider when trying to survive a zombie outbreak. Certain stores are a great idea but everyone else thinks those are a great idea too. Army surplus stores, supermarkets pharmacy's, hardware stores... with all the humans rushing around, those places are more like zombie buffets.
With a stroke of luck, your friends realise you're right. Everyone is scared of course but you send them out on a few missions to find what you need from the less popular places. The local gym that has a cafe in it? Should be uncontested for food! The pet store? Food options, animals to liberate and medication that can be used on humans too! There's even a nearby factory owned by Coca Cola that's sure to be full of some kind of human friendly liquid.
The best one of all? The local Medieval Times!
That's the place you're rushing to. Of course, no one else seems to have though of it and there's not many zombies around this area yet. Rushing inside, you grab enough chainmail, armour and weapons for your group. Even as you make trips back to the car, there's no one around. You have time to get real blades and practice blades, strong gauntlets that zombies can't bite through, shields and other brilliant medival weaponry.
Bullets can run out but a quality sword can be sharped!
Checking the kitchens, there's plenty of food to take. There's even booze! You get what you need and leave the rest for some other hopeful looters. The horses and birds of prey are gone but you don't know how to ride a horse anyway.
Feeling smug, you head back home with your loot. Maybe it's even worth bringing the group to live in the Medival Times castle? You think that sounds like a good idea as you go back to meet your friends with their loot.
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With the wind rushing past my face, I screamed “FOR FORT GERALD!!!!” as I tore down a hill on the back of a shopping cart, covered in full dyed leather armor with “FORT GERALD” in all caps written on the back. I also carried a long halberd in one hand as i sped towards a shambling figure at the bottom of the hill, a monster i had taken to calling a zombie. Whoever it used to be, it wasn't human anymore, so i had very little remorse when i smashed the hammer end of my weapon into its cranium at mach speed. I slid the cart to a stop with a slight screech as the wheels scraped against the pavement I looked up at the broken sign in front of me, with one of the letters gone it spelled “WALL MA T” so, i had adequately dubbed it, the wall mat.
Should i continue dis? i might
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l0zxunt
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l0zabe2
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[WP] In 2050, humanity finally developed faster than light engines and were able to travel the stars. In 2051, humanity destroyed all their FTL engines and vowed to never leave Earth again.
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"We never should have gone out there." The pilot said shakily as he clambered his way out of the cockpit of the ship. The man in question, Alexander Freeman, had just returned home from humanity's first ever FTL jump beyond the reaches of the Sol system.
"Freeman," A man dressed in grey and black camoflauge approached him, taking the weary pilot's arm around his shoulders. "What happened? What did you see?"
Alex's eyes were locked in a distant gaze, as if they were eternally fixated on a sight of the past. His mind swirled with memories, or at least the remnants of them. In an FTL jump, a person cannot perceive their own surroundings, everything moves too fast. To counteract this, pilots are injected with a drug that kicks their brains into a state of overdrive, like taking a hundred espresso shots at once without the physical reprecussions. However, this drug still only allows a person to take snapshots of their surroundings to store in their own memories.
"There were hundreds of them..." Alex managed, his eyes began darting around the room. "No... no there were thousands of them."
"What, Alex? What did you see? Please try your best to remember." Dozens of scientists and military personnel watched Alex closely, some with faces of concern, other with faces of wonder, and some with faces of horror.
Alex's eyes finally seemed to focus, if only for a moment. "I saw..." Tears welled in his eyes as he spoke. "I saw people." Gasps and whispers escaped from the onlookers in the large docking bay. "We are not the first humans to go out there. And I don't think they want us out there with them."
As he finished speaking, alarms blaired in throughout the space station. Within an instant, the hull was breached, and everyone on board was dead. The only explanation the people down on Earth could muster was that there was some sort of accident caused by an error in the station's system designed to evade space junk. Nonetheless, all assets of the FTL program were seemingly liquidated overnight, and humanity was forced to stay put on their tiny, insignificant, blue rock.
(Hi, it's my first time doing one of these so please be nice. I know I may not be the greatest writer, and this story might seem kinda cheesy and cliche but I hope to use this sub as a means to improve my writing skills. In any case, thanks for reading!)
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Avid historians will eventually encountered the same mystery if they dug deep enough into the Terra Grand Archives. A blank year from 2050 to 2051, with any kind of information are strangely missing. Not only that, the details in the five years before the Blank Year and five years after it are also blurry with patches of classified red tape, missing details, and censored documents.
Even three hundred years later, those red tape and censored documents are still highly guarded by the Central Government. Any efforts to get the information through official channel will be bogged down by layers and layers of bureaucracy. The late professor Gate has been dead for eighty years and still waiting in line to get a petition to open one of the censored documents.
However, thanks to the efforts and sacrifices of many researchers we have bit and pieces regarding the Blank Year. Of a scientific breakthrough and sailing the stars above, and then it abruptly stopped. Whatever happened, Humanity never went back to the stars. Whether this is because of a natural disaster or some unknown threat, everyone can agree it's so dangerous the Government still enforce it after all these years.
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lob819e
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lob70p3
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[WP] Your best friend always told you that they would storm the Gates of Hell itself for you if it came to it, you always assumed it wasn't a serious remark, until you died and found yourself in Hell.
|
I don't think anyone wants to think of themselves as a bad person.
I've never hurt anyone, never cheated on anyone. A little gossip and shoplifting from retail chains in my teens and never any shops owned by real people. Honest people. I watered my plants and picked up after my dogs.
So when the receptionist told me to wait on the side of the room, the far side with the flames and the persistent feeling of burning, I asked myself if I really was a bad person.
"How long do I have to wait?" I asked.
The receptionist shrugged. She had large dark circles under her eyes, covered by her smudged frames.
"Are you sure that's where I'm supposed to be going?" I asked.
She nodded.
"Maybe it's a clerical mistake," she said. "But I've never seen anyone come back to tell me if it was."
I started to walk away, toward the far side of the room, my hair was the first to go. The hair on my arms flicked away like dying lightning bugs, my body screamed as each one flew. I had a silly thought in that moment, that I could get used to the pain. Humans can get used to anything.
"You're not going to die from running," Vicky said.
She said it to me before this place.
"It really feels like I will," I told her. And it was the truth. My lungs were extorted of all the oxygen they owned. My calves were on fire, but not truly I realized now. My brain pleaded with me to stop the pain.
"Try a mile, Oli." Vicky said.
It was likely the slowest mile ever recorded in our sleepy suburb. I threw up enough that by the time I was finished, there was nothing left but acidic air squeezed out of my body.
I felt a hand on my back. It made a half squelching noise because of how sweaty I was and the noise almost made me throw up again.
"Good job!" Vicky said.
The memories kept me going toward the far side of the room. My skin had melted already, my vision came in and out. I think scientifically, I shouldn't have been able to see or breathe or even feel at this point, but I suppose the rules didn't quite work the same way here.
I was alone walking for what felt like miles. Another strange thought popped into my head then.
Maybe I should run. Get this over with.
Vicky signed us up for a half marathon a half year away.
"Why would you do that?" I asked her.
"Because it's nice to have goals," she said. "And because I think you'll be able to finish it."
"No," I said. "Why are you doing this at all?"
I had only thrown up once that run, the world's slowest 5k.
"Because you're my best friend," Vicky said. "And I'll always have your back."
She pat my back again and my stomach bubbled.
I did finish that half marathon. It took me a few hours and several walking breaks, but I did it.
It was difficult to breathe with my lungs filled with flames, my calves were skeletal, whatever was left of my body charred. I moved my legs anyway. I tried to breathe through my nose and out through my mouth. There was nothing to vomit that hadn't already burned. I could see the gate now, the door.
A man stood there, a black three piece suit. He was wide eyed. I couldn't hear him, but I saw his face and his mouth move into familiar swears.
I felt something hit my back. In the midst of the burning walls, this touch reminded me of the first sip of water, the way it snaked through your torso.
"Good job!"
I turned around and saw Vicky, unburnt. Her skin was tan, she was even sweating.
"Wh-" I tried to speak, but the words came out as smoke.
"I'm bringing you back, Oli." Vicky said. "It's not your time yet."
"Why?" I thought.
"Because you're my best friend," Vicky said. "And I'll always have your back."
|
My best friend was quirky as hell, and I loved her for it.
She was there for me always, and I was there for her.
Breakups, family events, work events, we were always a pair, since childhood.
She used to say that she would storm the Gates of Hell for me, and we always laughed at it.
Now...I am dead...and am waiting for judgement in Hell.
I hope she's...she's not coming.
The blood red skies were calm, yet the atmosphere was suffocating.
Ashen grey trees, and emerald green spiky grass were everywhere, both the trees and grass able to cut you like hot knife cuts butter.
Souls and demons "mingled", as demons pushed, ate or simply ignored us souls, as we waited our fate in these lands, as there were many.
Behind me...the Gates of Hell stood tall, piercing the red skies, mountains being dwarfed by its size.
Suddenly...there was a loud thud...and the Gates opened ever so slightly.
I could hear something...music...and it was getting louder and louder.
Then I realized what it was...
"Dumbass...", I muttered, as the Gates of Hell blasted open, metal busing blaring as I watched my best friend rush in on a goddamn flying serpent, followed by countless creatures, and figures I didn't know.
"Bitch, where are you?!", she shouted.
"I am here, dumbass!", I waved at her, and she flew straight to me.
As she did all the demons roared, and started rushing towards the intruders, pillars of blood appearing around us, as high-ranking demons appeared.
She didn't even flinch, she flew through one of the pillars, exploding it, killing the demon that was supposed to arrive.
Bloodied, she jumped down next to me, and hugged me.
"Leia!", she shouted.
"Alex.", I smiled, hugging her tightly.
"Like seriously...should have told me if you were about to die, I could have helped you.", she said.
"What?", I chuckled.
Then...silence fell, as space and time seemed to freeze, and everything started to lose color.
"Who dares to mock my domain?", a voice boomed, as a figure appeared.
"Oy, Luci, I am here to take my best friend's soul back to Earth.", I heard Alex shout.
"WHO! Oh, Alex? Yeah, sure, should have told me you are visiting, I would have told the knuckleheads to not interefere.
Gee...the paperwork going to be so damn annoying.", Lucifer himself said, before...leaving.
"Who are you?", I asked her.
"Your bestie, now let's go.", she chuckled as she took my hand.
We left Hell in style...then went for a coffee, for we had a lot to discuss...
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jfk1kgd
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jfjjuzx
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[WP] You've finally done it. You've proven the existence of magic; discovered how an ordinary human cast spells to control that immense arcane power. There's just one problem making you hesitate about publishing your findings: spellcasting looks so very... STUPID...
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"The first spell I ever cast was entirely on accident. One second, I was recording my chemistry experiment for this class demo project, the next I'm on the ground looking up at a rift in the fabric of space-time." The lecture hall was watching me, waiting for the punchline.
Then I went to the next slide and watched the largest and most embarrassing leap in the history of mankind's development. Laughter played out until I kept speaking with a palpable force of honesty.
"Without this video, I myself never would have believed what had happened." I held up my hands. "And those of you watching will certainly say that that's just CGI. Those of you who know me will be able to assure the rest that my computer skills are even worse than my coordination, and you just saw how awful that is."
"I understand that without real life proof, none of you will believe me, and so I intend to cast the spell here today. " From under the table I pulled out my box of supplies and began setting up. First my lab coat. Then the portable bunsen burner and flask holder. Distilled water. Magnesium chlorate. It was good that the set up took so long. "Over the past month, I and my friends have spent day and night attempting to recreate and then distill this process."
"We have documented each attempt. We have researched every single thing we could imagine. The ritual does not depend on any astronomical or atmospheric conditions. The ritual does not depend on any innate property of the caster that we can identify. The ingredients do not have to be sourced from anywhere specifically, and the source of the heat does not matter."
I sighed.
"It does unfortunately matter. As soon as the solution reaches 93 degrees centigrade, I will begin the ritual. And before that happens I want to emphasize: Every. Single. Step. Matters."
Some people were still chuckling, either at me or falsely believing they were privy to some prank I was pulling. I tuned them out and watched the thermometer rise.
91... 92... 93. It was the lowest we found that would still work.
Showtime.
My left hand flew forward to 'casually' backhand the flask as I spun around, pretending to slip on the floor. The flask went flying as I bit back a hiss and began the incantation. "Fugono!" Turning back around as if lunging for the burning projectile, I watched it shatter against the table as I proceeded to actually fall. Intentionally.
Flinging my legs out from under me to the side, I kept speaking. "Shi-" An unenscribable gasping noise as I hit the ground with my side, arms still extended towards the glass. "-gahsinfabish!"
Clenching my hands, I wrapped my arm around my actually bruised knee and spoke the final words, praying I hadn't messed anything up. "Gidameedit!"
Laughter was cut off as an inky black portal opened in the air above the spilled and broken flask. I flung my hands back and scuttled away as if surprised, causing the second portal to appear under me. I fell through and landed on the remains of my experiment, but that was what my padded lab coat was for.
Rolling off the debris, I took a few seconds to compose myself before standing up and looking towards my class.
Professor Ward broke the awed silence by standing and surveying the portals. "Mr. Harris. This is... incredibly impressive." He tossed a pencil through and watched it come out the other. "And how long does it last for?"
"Eleven minutes and five seconds. Give or take a second."
"Fascinating. And... all that flailing was required?"
"You may recall that there was quite a bit more in the original video." I was really glad that I didn't need to catch my sleeve on fire again. "This was as much as could be removed so far. I'm hoping to reduce it further."
"Fantastic. Truly and simply fantastic." His elderly face gave me a bright smile and a knot of tension uncoiled inside of me. Prematurely. "It's a shame you didn't submit the protocol on time. As such, I'm afraid I can't give it higher than a B."
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[NSFW, this story is rather vulgar]
"That's fucking stupid Todd. I can't believe you woke me up at 4am for this-"
"Frank, please, I shit you not. 4 separate attempts in different rooms with different objects. I learned fire magic! Completely by accident!"
"You learned fire magic while masturbating. Right. Fucking creep."
Frank attempted to shut his bedroom door, but Todd and his favorite t-shirt rallied against him, lightly brushing his doorknob. Disgusted and disgruntled, Frank launched a swift but poorly aimed kick at Todd's pasty, exposed shins, lost his balance, and stumbled into his underdressed roomie.
"Can you FUCK OFF Todd?!" Frank hissed as he pushed Todd back into the hall, "and put some pants on and **burn that shirt,** you never wash it!" Todd tumbled into the wall head first with a satisfying thud, but retorted unfazed: "I DO wash the shirt, I just use it a lot!"
"Bullshit." Scoffed Frank as he wiped his doorknob with a gently used sock he grabbed off the floor.
"But if you really want me to burn the shirt *I'll show you*." Todd backpedaled towards the bathroom, hitting the wall several times, trailed by a reluctant Frank and a crusty DragonCon shirt.
Todd chucked his rag into the tub and motioned to Frank to stand back. He took a wide, squatting stance, faced his left palm to the tub and aimed his right thumb to the ceiling.
"Fucking PANTS Todd, ple- what the ***fuck***"
Todd's right hand was now fairly deep in his own nether regions as he chanted "Burn baby, burn!" while Frank observed the crass ritual. He turned to leave in annoyance at the apparent prank, but emerald light flashed from the tub as the shirt, mildewy shower curtain and soap were consumed by an inexplicable flame. Todd turned to face Frank, childish glee plastered across his face. "I told you! Magic!"
Flustered, flabbergasted and a bit disgusted Frank stuttered "How- how did you even learn this?" Todd paused for a moment as he relieved his asscendance to magehood.
"Ok, so, I was on a forum earlier, I won't bore you with the details, but someone made a joke about that old 'try finger but whole' thing. Moron that I am, I laughed and it's been stuck in my head all day. Then, like 15 minutes ago while I was doing my thing, I remembered it and, uh took the advice. And I was saying shit like 'oh yeah that's so hot' while I was reaching for the lotion and *fwoosh*, bottle's melting! And I was like 'no fucking WAY' so I tried it again on the ashtray and the cig butts lit up the same way! But it only works when I, uh, do the finger. Dude, see if you can do it!"
Todd reached out to Frank who immediately recoiled back into the hall. "I'm not doing that. Clean this shit up and don't burn down the house assmaster." Frank trotted back towards his room chased by mutterings of how lame he was and the smell of burning cloth. But he stopped at the hall closet to grab a roll of toilet paper for... reasons.
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j3beaar
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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."
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"...I... thank you?" Hades awkwardly held onto bouquet, glancing between it and Ares, "Did... did she specify these are for someone, or...?"
"I have no idea, she started talking about Percy giving you flowers and told me I should do it too." The god of war shrugged, standing gormlessly in front of his fellow god's desk, and Hades looked back to the flowers. Was... was Ares coming on to him, or something? After a second he realized how ridiculous that was; he and the god of war worked together closely but despite what the mortals believed (thanks Zeus) the other gods weren't up to any ridiculous shenanigans... mostly. Honestly though, these two were probably the least equipped to handle any mysteries regarding romance. "I... well tell her I said thank you, I guess?"
Ares gave a flummoxed shrug and departed from Hades' realm, and the god of death just as awkwardly began the search for a vase to put the blooms in that Persephone's flowers did not already occupy, trying to think of the message behind the gift...
\-----
Ares stepped back onto Mt. Olympus and was almost immediately accosted by an excited looking Aphrodite, the woman nearly bouncing on her feet, "Sooooo..."
"Y-Yes?" She leaned in close.
"A little birdy told me you were out collecting flowers\~."
"Yes? Yes, I delivered them already." As she blinked in confusion Ares took a step back.
"Wait what? I've been here all day and haven't received anything..." Okay now what the Styx was she on about?
"Why would I send them to you?" Aphrodite stared at Ares in confusion for a long, silent moment before Zeus' voice suddenly rang out from around the corner.
"Dite, why in my name did my brother just send me a load of flowers claiming you started this..?"
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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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j4jlfkn
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j4jjlos
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[WP] You died and were sent to hell, but instead of getting escorted down to a specific level of hell, you're escorted straight to the Devil himself who looks mildly horrified while holding the file of your life in his hands.
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The piano fell so fast. At least, that’s the last thing I remember before I ended up here. Standing in front of the devil himself, instead of being transported to a specific level of Hell like the rest of its waiting patrons.
I fidget in place in front of the pedestal the Devil’s intricately carved throne resides upon, waiting for him to decide my fate.
I watch his youthful face as he flips through the pages of my file, his sharp features slowly transforming from bored disdain to mildly horrified.
His eyes, pools of endless black, glance up and study me from head to toe with practiced precision. My skin itches everywhere he looks, the subtle horror in his expression refusing to subside.
I’m seconds away from hyperventilating when the Devil finally deigns to speak. “Your life is utterly atrocious.” His voice is smooth and sultry, yet holds promises of terrible punishments.
“Come again?” I manage to squeak out with what little air is left in my lungs.
He sets down my file, then readjusts the cuffs of his charcoal suit. “Your time on Earth. It was horrifyingly boring, simple, monotonous, and uninspiring. Not a good deed to your name, but no bad ones either. Such a waste of a good life.” He sighs, leaning back in his seat.
Before he meets my gaze again my eyes dart to the tile floor. My heart is racing in my chest as I think over my life. I mean he’s not wrong, but is he right? Did I really not do anything worthwhile during my time alive?
“You know what this means don’t you?,” the Devil asks me, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips.
I’ve officially lost my ability to speak so I shake my head no. Fearing the worst from the deity who literally deals in terror for a living.
“It means that it’s time for you to undergo The Trials and Tribulations. It’s where you decide what is to become of your time in the Underworld, or maybe, if luck is on your side, you’ll earn a second chance at life.”
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A smile breaks across the devil's face, cracking the dried and scaling skin along his decrepid flesh. "oh my. oh my indeed." he looks at the young man before him, almost a child, chained, bleeding and on his knees. "now what could cause a poor boy like you to skin a man?" the devil corrects himself, "Sorry... 8 people." the young man looks up through the blood coming from his eye. "You have no fuckin' idea what's going on up there, do you? those people deserved to die. They were monsters, almost as bad as you. Every single one of those peice of shit men exploited the men that worked for them. Their children were going to bed at night hungry, even though the children were working. and you know what? I don't fucking regret it." the devil looked perplexed, "Yes i understand the need to kill them, but why did you let the exploited ones get at them? There was barely any flesh on their bones after..."
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k78hzog
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k78docz
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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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A figure, tall and eerie, stood upon a massive graveside hill. Surrounded by ghouls and skeletons, spirits and wraiths, the figure was an endless tower of night. His visage was the silence of death, haloed by the very fear of humanity. Looking northward, he saw the bloody battlefield for the first time in ages. It troubled him, to see how far his defensive line had fallen.
"Father Christmas!" called out the Lord of Halloween, across the bloody fields of November. "Your campaign of expansion shall go no further! On my honor, one of us will die before you set foot on October soil!"
A frigid breeze blew rapidly through, bringing with it a torrent of snow and ice. It clashed against the slightly warmer temperature of October, but Halloween's own affinity for the cold was being used against him.
"We were friends once, Father Christmas! Don't make me destroy you!"
"D....destroy-"
And then, cresting over his own hill, what was left of Father Christmas approached. Halloween was struck with terror as he saw mechanical legs propelling the mass forward. A torso, drained of its red, sat helplessly attached to tubes that pulled more and more from him. His remaining arm was chained across him, holding him in place lest he fall off the poorly-secured machinery. Where his right arm should be was a weapon of some sort, a cannon made to fire trash as if it was a gift. Father Christmas's eyes were empty with pain, and supported by his shoulders was a platform covered in men. Each was competing with each other to try and take as much as they could from his old friend.
"Destroy...me? Destroy...me," Father Christmas replied as a single tear fell down his face.
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The gauntlet thrown down, these were the rules
For pumpkins and skeletons, ghosties and ghouls
This was it, they swelled proudly, their line in the sand
Where Halloween would stand firm to protect its great land
But in a far away place, Santa Clause paid no heed
It was shaping up to be the best Christmas indeed
For shops stocked his sandwich, whether tipsy or sober
You'd find them no problem and it was only October
Edit 1 & 2:
Is the Christmas sandwich really just a British thing? I guess consider this your permission to google and try it out!
I don't know how to poem - apologies to those this annoys.
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jc8s8r4
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jc8olqr
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[WP] You've tried everything to be a good guardian angel, but nothing you do can stop your human from being a tremendous asshole. You think you'll just possess them instead. Besides, you're not really an angel.
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Work on being a good guardian angel, it's good for the church's publicity, Jerry said. I'll pick a tremendous asshole, and you can work on helping him turn over a new leaf. It will be the start of a beautiful "Project Redemption".
Katrina said it will be easy, humans nowadays think angels look more eldritch than pretty boys with wings, so nobody will bat an eyelid at your appearance.
But I don't think it's working. This human, Benny, seems very determined to continue down the vicious, self-destructive cycle he has been trapped in. Benny may have been a victim of circumstances, but he hasn't made any attempts to break out of his circumstances at all.
Jerry launched a successful crowdfunding campaign to help "poor beggar Benny" and told me to take it from there. I've tried giving him financial advice on how to properly utilize that money. Tried arranging interviews for him, even hypnotized a few recruiters into actually hiring him against Jerry's advice, only for him to flunk out of every job. I tried teaching him how to craft amulets to sell online, Jerry had an Etsy account all set up nicely. Nothing came out of it.
The crowdfunds are running out, and our donors are very displeased to learn Benny is still the same drunken man who digs for trash to sell for a pittance. He's loud, abrasive, and absolutely vulgar. He has pushed away every human who genuinely tried to help him so I'm the only one left on his side. But it would not be right for the donors who believed in me; it would be a terrible waste of their kindness and generosity to just drop Benny like a rotten potato.
So I possessed him. Make him do all the good that is humanely possible. With what little was left of the funds, I dragged Benny to get a decent haircut and bought a suit for interviews. Jerry wrote a new resume, Katrina reached out to various organizations, and I marched Benny to the companies who were willing to interview him.
For a few months, our donors were happy. Benny seemed on track to turn his life around after he (or rather, I did) passed the job probation. But I had concerns, I told Jerry I couldn't do this forever. I feared if I let go, Benny would slip back into bad old habits.
I didn't enjoy being correct in this instance, but all it took was just letting Benny off for one day, and he got himself into a messy bar fight.
Mind meld him into continuing the good fight, Jerry said. I protested that this was something I'd loathe even though it was fully within my powers to do so. I told Jerry what happens when a person eventually snaps out of an eldritch mind melding; the snapback is incredibly ugly. In all my years, I've never seen any human fully recover from eldritch mind melds; they go batshit insane without exceptions.
Besides, I'm not really an angel.
When all the hubbub for "Project Redemption" dies down, I'll let Benny go before the crushing aura of my possession permanently melts his mind and burns his eyes out. I'll have a word with my head priest Alfred. I think the Church of Elvar could do with a different marketing manager and team.
Asking Elvari, Eldritch Lord of the Black Seas, to play guardian angel was not such a great idea in hindsight.
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Previous prompts featuring eldritch god Elvari below:
[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/117eygj/wp_divinity_cannot_be_destroyed_only_shattered/j9ehi9v/?context=3), [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/11lsy7x/wp_listen_you_guys_ritualistically_consume_the/jbfao1z/?context=3), [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/11q47g2/wp_they_call_you_an_eldritch_horror_they_say_you/jc2knn1/?context=3).
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If I can change, they can.
This is what I tell myself as I press flame to spine.
If I can change, they can.
It digs deeper, flesh and flame erupt as I tumble into an abyss, collapsing atop a my first mortal soul to which I bear no foul intent.
If I can change, they can.
Infinite fucking. How many step sisters exist here. Where is the helm? Jesus -- is that girl fucking a squid? My loins tighten.
Focus.
Repeat the mantra:
*Born a demon, birth in hell, got out of dodge -- what a story to tell -- if I can change, they can too, find a soul worth saving, they need a guardian too.*
I push forward. Through the urges and moans and flesh and delicious depravity that calls me home.
Recap: three weeks on the job. My first job bearing the light. Transfer paperwork was a bitch and half, but worth -- catch your dreams, they say. It was odd. I never wanted to be a guardian angel. Darkness suited me. But the day after my 1,000th birthday I woke in a start feeling hollow and -- well -- purposeless. Cut to 3 months later, I am trying something new. I was assigned to Dave. Piece of work. Watches porn most of the day. Plays videos games the rest. Makes more money than a teacher just by streaming himself playing said video games. Mission is simple -- save his soul -- put him on a path to happiness. Marriage. Children. Less masterbation.
So here I am -- breaking rules. Possession. The number one on the goody goodys list of no-nos.
I see it as a gray area.
Three seconds inside this assholes head and I know the happiness I am trying to push on this guy is not his happiness. He really enjoys his porn. His games. His solitude.
WWJD?
What Would Jason Do?
Jason was my instructor during transitioning camp.
Jason would say "find the good, it's there -- no one wants to be alone"
Ok. Deep breath. Find the helm of Dave.
Take it. He locks up. I am driving. Ok. Ready.
You can do this.
---
I sit before the Guardian Angel Committee.
"It all unraveled rather fast. I see that now" I say.
"A man is dead."
"Just one man though."
"The man you were meant to save."
"Fair point. But in my defense he was --"
"In need of saving."
The council huddles.
I scratch my horns and the defense attorney sighs.
"Fucking demons."
Verdict doesn't take long. Visa revoked. Transitioning anatomy repoed. Taken from the room I pass Jason. His hand finds my shoulder and I apologize. Once a demon always a demon I tell him.
He says to not blame myself.
As he leaves he doubles back and whispers:
"You didn't think we'd make it that easy did you?"
---
Absurd Flash Fiction / Wyrd Fiction
r/wyrdfiction
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lgmv7y1
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lglwg8i
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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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The beautiful man gazes thoughtfully at the wispy tendrils of smoke, breathing forth from the golden lamp. *So there* do *exist powers beyond heaven and hell,* he thinks.
“Well,” he finally asks the wisps of smoke with a mirthless smile, “could you grant it?”
The smoke pulses as it rises from the lamp, coalescing slowly into a dimly-glowing shape. Its voice is distant, like a whisper carried on the wind.
“I know who you are, shining one… They say your fall turned you mad… And you are mad indeed… No one can guess the implications of this wish…”
The man suddenly shines with rage, his fists and jaw clenching, before he forces a smile back on his beautiful face. “Spirit, I did not fall this far, and seek you out in the hellish depths, only to be insulted. I *will not* ask again. *Can you grant it?*”
The spirit, now gathered in the shape of a humanoid, pauses a long while. “… yes.”
The shining man’s smile turns into a wide grin. “I wish it. I wish for God to die.”
There is no wind in the depths, but the spirit’s wispy tendrils shift and shiver. “… it will take time to grant this…”
The man jabs a glowing finger. “I care not how long you need to set it in motion. Kill God. And with a slow, painful death. At the hands of those he loves so dearly.”
~~
And the Lord drinks from the hyssop branch, and bows His head, and gives up His ghost to the Father. And the Spirit is with Him, remembering.
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k3bufn0
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k3ajxqj
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[WP] The public's hate for super heroes has grown. The reason: They don't kill villains, which gives them a chance to escape. You are the leader of the biggest anti-super hero groups. You are going from a rally you get stopped by some of the greatest heroes. They say they're here to kill you.
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Jason slammed on the brakes as five supers dropped, materialized, popped into existence or just appeared in front of us. My seat belt dug painfully into my shoulder, and with a quick hand I managed to not implant my face into the composit material. Small miracles.
In front of us stood Salute, Mercer, Polly, Vista and Klick, all members of the top ten club. They sneered at Jason and me in our car, just having left a very successful anti-supers rally. I knew what this was about, I was prepared for what was to come and casually unbuckled my seatbelt. Climbing out the five stood resolute, Salute being the sole supe present with a cape that flapped in a non-existent breeze. How utterly pretentious.
"Michael Swornhammer, your efforts to defame and slander our good names come to an end, here and now." Salute said. So he was the leader of this particular group, interesting. The other four nodded in agreement, though Mercer looked more bored than anything else.
"What, are you going to arrest me? On what charges? Just like the villains you so often fight always end up free within days, if not weeks, it'll be the same for me."
A sinister grin crept across Salutes face, "No," he growled, "We're here to kill you." he took a menacing step forward, I didnt budge.
"No, you won't." his grin faded, just a bit.
"Yes, we will. It'll be made to look like an accident and no one will be the wiser."
"Man, when whatever entity decided you all get powers, they definitely did not see fit to give you two braincells to rub together between the five of you." Salutes grin quickly turned to an angry scowl while Mercer laughed hysterically. Polly, Vista and Klick all shared the same look of shock and indignation, it was delicious.
Salutes voice dropped to an angry growl, "And how do you figure that, Michael?"
"Oh, it's simple, really. No matter what you do or say, with my death I will become a martyr. People will know, or at the very least suspect that the supes had something to do with my death. The public will slowly lose trust in all of you. No matter how much good you try to do, there will always be that thread of doubt, that suspicion. The harder you try, the more it will appear that you're making up for a guilty conscious, and it will all but be confirmed that you killed me. Even if you don't change, public perception will change."
Salutes resolve crumbled, and the rest of the group with him, except Mercer. His smooth faced helmt belied no emotion, but his body language told me enough, he thought this was hilarious.
"But you're eroding the publics confidence in us already. It's a lose-lose for us. If what you say is true, that is." Vista spoke up from the edge of the group.
"Well, one brain cell is firing at least. You are correct, Vista, but you all are missing a key point: if you make the changes we're calling for, you're all that much more heroic. You heard the people and changed for them, no doubt, no guilt attached. Fail to change, and well, you're in the same place as you are now." I made eye contact with each of the hero's, in the case of Mercer I locked my gaze onto his helmet.
"Take responsibility for the consequences that came with your powers, it's that simple. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm overdue for a meeting with my campaign manager."
I climbed back in the car and nodded to Jason. He slowly accelerated despite the supes still blocking our way, but they gave way as the car rolled toward them. They knew I was right, and their lack of brains made it so they never saw any other options. If this is the best the world has to offer, I greatly fear for our own future.
Edit: on mobile, fixed a few words and grammar. Also added a couple of more paragraphs to add some more depth to the story.
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The rally was supposed to be to ask for reform to the system to allow capital punishment and/or disabling supervillains. You were on the disabling side for the following reasons:
​
* Allows the human resources of the cleverest supervillains to not be wasted. 🚫🚮
* Prevents them having a legitimate successor in their faction, as they will be seen as lesser than the original
* Allows research into how the supervillains work for the progress of science. 💹🔬
* The economy was doing so great that their living expenses were not a real issue
* More humane, especially for sympathetic villains
* No real downside. At least apparent from the available data.
​
Still, the rally was a joint movement to stop the overreliance on superheroes by society, which had become increasingly apathetic to doing any crime fighting itself.
​
The superheroes quickly coerced everyone into cages. The kind like they put cows 🐄 in when they are being taken to the slaughter house. You knew they had to have had the money for less ominous transport options.
​
The superheroes laughed sinisterly every now and again as you were all taken to a holding facility behind enough security to make Area 51 look lax.
​
The mass holding cell made you feel like an animal. The news played on the screen. It painted the rally as an extremist group with an evil ideology. Then it showed a bunch of members of the public saying very hurtful things about you including calling for your death.
​
After a few days of living like this, you managed to escape discreetly using your superpowers, which were unknown to everyone else, except your best friend.
​
You managed to change your appearance just enough to avoid being noticeably the same person and you slipped into obscurity.
​
In the following years, you hated the superheroes and wanted vengeance. Though, you were careful and composed for the most part. The first thing to do was learn about them.
​
You eventually realised that the superheroes benefited from the constant human turmoil through suffering. They could feed off it (though natural human suffering was more than enough to fuel them). They could sell them improved quality human souls on the galactic market.
​
You knew you couldn't beat them on your own. So you waited patiently. The news never even reported you escaped. There was a good chance the holding facility did not even notice you were gone.
​
Finally the day came when an opportunity presented itself. You came across a man down on his luck, willing to cooperate, mostly as he had no idea who you really were.
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jmtp7vt
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jmsy69k
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[WP] You awake suspended above your bed. Unable to move, unable to cry out. The room is filled with a bright light, and you can make out faint silhouettes. An alien abduction? Tears in your eyes, you almost give up hope when I scaly hand pulls you to safety. The monster under your bed is not happy.
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I lay paralyzed as the familiar light fills my room. The same light I had seen before.. Since I was 3. I felt the fear as the silhouettes appeared around my bed. Mentally I scream and beg for help as I feel the clammy hands of the alien rub at my arm. Slowly I began raising before I feel something new. A very strong grip around my ankle. I glance down as best I can to see something resembling a hand wrapped around my ankle. Slowly it begins pulling. "Let. Him. Go." The voice was human but resembled a growl. "LET HIM GO!" The noise echoed in the silent room. The Beings stare at my bed confused. "Every time you take him, he comes back whimpering, bleeding, and terrified. I am tired of it. Let. Him. Go. NOW." I feel the pull on my body increase in intensity. I whimper in fear and resign myself to my fate, wondering what experiments I'm about to suffer through this time. Silently hoping I get put in the tubes so I'm not awake for it.
"Worst choice of your life..." The voice said as I heard an unholy roar. One of the beings go flying across my room. Another pulls the rod they use to induce compliance from somewhere. The alien pointed it at my rescuer before it too went flying, slamming into my wall. Another alien ran towards the window but was grabbed and yanked down. I heard a cry, the first time I ever heard one of them make a noise as something happened to it. No sooner did it happen than the light turn off and I fell to my bed. I quickly pulled my knees to my chest and began rocking before a hand rubbed against my bare back. It felt scaly and oddly warm. I recognized it almost immediately. "Y-You? But. But my parents said you were just a- a bad dream." A chuckle sounded from under the bed. "They said the same thing about them. I haven't left Jon. I never will." I stayed still before asking, "Why'd you help me?" The monster gently squeezed my shoulder as he spoke. "All these years I've come to care about you. I have watched them take you for hours and then you return terrified and bloodied. I have grown angrier and angrier each time. You do not deserve such things. So I watched and waited to know how they worked. I'm sorry it took so long." I sat silent for a moment, wanting only to be held. With a sigh, I asked. "Can I have a hug or something?"A black-scaled creature slowly rose from the foot of my bed, it's white sharp teeth seemed to glow in the moonlight. Red eyes sat atop it's head. Slowly it moved forward before pulling me to it's chest. "I will never let them take you again." I closed my eyes as it held me, knowing it was telling me the truth, yet also knowing, they would be back.
Continued on WP: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/141z5i0/wp_hey_monster_under_my_bed_wanna_come_sleep_up/jn2q9h8?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
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A can of Monster Energy frowns at me from beneath the bed as I spin around and around, its facial features clearly visible in the stark bright light. *Why would aluminum gain anthropomorphic features?* I'm overthinking it.
Wait, why am I spinning? I don't remember being hung from the ceiling like an oversized fan, but here I am arms spread wide. Am I cooling what's underneath me? I look down, but it's hard to see anything except that overtly petulant can that seems to fill every frame. Other than the bed, the rest of the furniture is gone, lost to the hot white tile. Everything is burning bright. I've never seen anything this bright. I imagine I've gone on vacation to the surface of the sun, or at least walked into an overzealous light bulb factory.
Shadows come from the walls, filling the floor from every direction. They kind of look like people, but giant ones with spade-shaped heads. Some of them are wearing hats, no, *crowns*. Is this a ball for kings and queens? A royal affair? I'm spinning slower now and the figures begin to dance. Looks like a waltz, but I can't count the time. I imagine doing box steps. Wait, where is the music? What is happening?
I blink, but I'm still spinning. I look up and see the thickest rope I've ever seen, inches of raw sinew reaching to a ceiling as high as the clouds. Did I die? Is this heaven? Or hell? Maybe Satan will emerge from the can at any moment with his trident ready to send me into the bowels of Hell. Or maybe aliens have captured me. Perhaps my future fate is that of a spinning webless arachnid.
I must be dreaming. Yes, that's it. Only in the arms of Morpheus could such things as these happen. I blink again, jostling the sleep paralysis that could be holding me captive, but I find nothing. The face on the can is becoming more peaceful. Which is nice. I don't want my caffeine source mad at me. I have enough problems. Wait... why am I still spinning?
Make it stop now. Oh please. I've had enough of this charade. At least someone could say something, to pierce the silence. I feel alone. Where are my friends? My family? The kind strangers that were willing enough to talk to me on the subway. *Why* is that can still looking at me? I feel something like a tear come to my eye, but nothing spills forth from the lid.
Then I hear the eruption of a creature so foul, so offputting that my mind switches straight back to Hell. This is surely one of Satan's beasts. Oh no. *I've died*. Most certain now. From its bellows, I hear a dirge so dark that it can only lead to the abyss itself. The face on the can has suddenly turned angry. The angriest I've seen it. Perhaps the aluminum was a friend, after all, who came to save me. I try to smile at it, to indicate that I'd accept help. It only has eyes for what's behind me
A hand with claws grasps my midsection. I want to scream, but nothing comes out. I can only feel the hair on its body as it nuzzles up to my ear. It whispers "I scaly hand save you." My heart starts pounding, adrenaline coursing through my body like a class-five rapid. Get it away! Get it away from me! I try to thrash, feeling hopeless in my stasis. Cement starts to pour into the room from every direction like heavy rain, powder encasing everything. Silhouettes invade my vision. Top, front, bottom, left. I lose sight of the can. With all my strength I reach out for it.
*"Take my hand, I'll save you."*
My eyes snap open. Through fuzzy vision, I see a man's hand reaching down for me. Behind him, a crowd is standing around. That's when I remembered a cab hit me. I was crossing the road, drinking a Monster, I must not have seen it.
I see the can to the right of me lying on the ground. At first, it looks undamaged, but when I look more closely I see some tiny puncture holes in the shape of a frown.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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j8p1dnv
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j8nvd7c
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[WP] You’re rather annoyed that your history teacher gave you a “D” on your report about the Aztecs and Incas. Not just because you’re certain she doesn’t like you, but also because - as an ancient being trying to adapt to modern society - you were LITERALLY there.
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Mr. Templeton blinked once, then again, and finally he shook his head as if waking from a dream. I was prepared to give him a moment to accept what he was seeing - the way my face shifted to its original form as my eyes glowed - but he recovered quickly and said a single word.
"No."
"What do you mean, no? I assure you, this is very real."
He sighed, and removed his glasses to wipe the lenses - I'd been in his class long enough to know it was something he did when he was feeling annoyed by his students.
"Mister Jones - I assume I should continue to use that name - I believe your story. So you're immortal, and were present at the founding and fall of the Aztec empire. That's incredible, but what I mean when I say no is... no, I will not give you a better grade."
"I... excuse me?"
"I explained very clearly what was required for this assignment, and the kind of sources that were required. Your paper didn't have citations, and now that I know it is from personal memories... well, that doesn't meet the criteria."
"This is outrageous!" I thundered, feeling the ancient well of power churning just out of reach in response to my outrage. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then another. I'd been having a shitty couple of decades and had thought I could start over, get a fresh start in a new country with a new name. But clearly if I was spilling my secret over a bad grade and getting close to reaching out for the old forbidden powers... well, maybe I needed more than a change of scenery.
Mr. Templeton put his glasses back on and sighed. "I can see your point of view, mister Jones. The knowledge you have would be invaluable to historians, I don't mean to imply that your lived experiences don't count for anything. But there's a reason I require sources for your papers to meet certain standards - we have many anecdotes from history that have turned out to be heavily biased or outright fabricated. This isn't to say I think you would deceive me deliberately, but... well, the bottom line is your account isn't valid for this particular assignment."
With deliberate calm, I transformed back into my chosen body. "Of course. I understand. I will..." I gritted my teeth and forced myself to continue, "I will be sure to use sources that have been vetted by the scientific and scholarly community next time."
He nodded. "Very good. Please let me know if you would ever be willing to give an official account of your life, I know quite a few people that would be thrilled to hear anything you have to say. I look forward to seeing you after summer break."
"But... Mr. Templeton, I'm graduating this year."
"Not without a passing grade in my course, mister Jones."
When the smoke cleared, Mr. Templeton had been turned to stone and his desk was nothing but a pile of splinters. Damn it. This was just going to cause more trouble. Why had I thought it was a good idea to go through high school again?
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There are many curses in this world, some have bad luck, some cannot have children, some are forced to live in a form that is anathema to their mind and soul.
Mine was to be stuck in a form that was so similar to human teenager that I have occasionally been forced to participate in their education. It has only been an issue for the past century or so, but now I have to listen to the childish babbling of babes who think they know best.
This one was the worst, her name was Ms. Bezalli and she was our history teacher. She herself had a focus on mesoamerican studies. She also was the sort who loved to hear herself talk.
"It's Plato all over again," I bemused.
"Have something to share, Mr. Rates?" I could feel her glare rest on me, but I was just counting the moments until she was again silences for the day by the ringing bell.
"No."
"No, what?"
"No, Ms. Bezalli."
She was in the process in handing back recent reports we'd written I was fairly confident as I had experience in the-
"Mr. Rates, you scored the worst in the class. Perhaps if you were paying proper attention you would do better," she remarked dropping my report onto my desk.
I took a look at the papers, especially at her notes.
Her notes were incredibly ignorant, it was definitely the sign of a desk anthropologist and historian who never traveled to the locations. No, she specialized in egoism.
"Perhaps if you actually knew the subject as you claim, you'd know I was right."
"What was that? Sounds like a detention!" She was furious, but I was also infuriated.
"Anything to be away from an idiot like you."
"Oh? So it sounds like you want to have that detention here then. Granted!"
She was childish, petty, and I was done with her games. I clenched my jaw, and took a deep breath.
"Diogenes was less trouble than this brat."
Today was the day she learned.
I made my attendance in her detention, a couple hours later. She handed me an assignment as punishment. It was an essay that the prompt itself flowed with falsehood.
"No."
"No? You want a suspension? Again? At this point you'll be repeating the year!"
"Lords of Stars and Ladies of Earth would you shut up!" Thunder cracked, despite the cloudless sky. I stood, my image must have bee terrifying as my shadow clung to me.
"I tire of your insipid, self assured idiocy! You speak of subjects you know nothing about! I who walked the halls of the Parthenon when it was finished, who stood as the figure that would one day be called Socrates, I who crossed the oceans on clouds of star dust need not to hear of how I was worshipped! Blood sacrifice? Cannibalism? I allow such misconceptions in most because it is not worth it. You spread lies with confidence, and denounce any who challenge you. No more."
"What?"
She was terrified, unable to even speak properly. Instead she was disbelieving.
"I who was called a winged serpent, for when I arrived in the west I rode upon a stream of stars that looked like a serpent, and wings of light created a halo around me. I am the Lord of knowledge, wisdom, and light. You will respect me child or be removed!"
"Yo-you're a god?"
The darkness receded and flickering flouresect bulbs returned to shining.
"No. I am a Lord. Immortal. But if there are God's or a God it is not us. Certainly not me." I sighed as she shivered in place trembling.
"You will frustrate me no more," I declared, and she nodded immediately. I turned to leave, but she grabbed my sleeve.
"Wait!"
"What?"
"-me..."
"Speak up!"
"Teach me!" She declared, eyes puffy with fearful tears. She was a young woman for an educator, and her ego could perhaps be tamed.
"...ugh." I was a teacher first, it was hard to ignore an earnest gaze, rubbing the back of my neck.
If only I had known the mess that would come of it, I would have just become a truant.
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j3txn07
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j3ttdo4
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[WP] A millennium ago, only the wealthiest were allowed to board the ship, allowed to escape this dying planet into space. In their absence the world healed and humanity built a new utopia. Now, the ulta-rich have returned and want to reap the benefits of the new world.
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A millennium ago, the world was on the brink of collapse. Climate change had ravaged the planet, and resources were scarce. The wealthiest among humanity, who had long been the ones to profit from the destruction of the earth, realized that they could not survive on a dying planet. So, they decided to build a spaceship and escape into the vastness of space.
Only the richest of the rich were allowed to board the ship, leaving behind the rest of humanity to suffer and die on a planet that could no longer sustain life. As the ship blasted off into the black void, the remaining people of earth watched in despair, certain that they were doomed.
But something miraculous happened in the absence of the wealthy. Without their greed and disregard for the planet, humanity was able to come together and heal the earth. They implemented sustainable practices and developed new technologies to combat the effects of climate change. Slowly but surely, the planet began to recover.
As the years passed, a new utopia emerged on earth. People lived in harmony with nature, and resources were shared equitably. The population thrived, and the earth was once again a bountiful, lush place.
But the spaceship carrying the wealthy was not lost in the vastness of space. After a millennia, it returned to earth, the ultra-rich aboard eager to reclaim what they had left behind. But they found a new world, one they no longer recognized. They demanded to be given back their rightful place as rulers, but the people of the new utopia refused.
Enraged and desperate, the ultra-rich began to try to take by force what they could not claim through peaceful means. But they were no match for the united and empowered people of the new utopia, who had learned to live without them and had no intention of returning to the old ways.
And so the wealthy were forced to leave again, this time permanently, as the people of the new utopia continued to build a better world, one without them.
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It's the night of the winter solstice and families are gathering together to celebrate Paxmas. This holiday was once called christmas in a time long ago when the earth was at its dying breath. Families received an emergency alert noting that contact was being made from beyond the moon as it was transmitting a distress signal to earth. The vessel which had a trajectory to land on the earth's surface was called ARC-NA01. After communicating with the wandering vessel it made obvious that they were humans. They described themselves as Intergalactic Americans' from the Andromeda galaxy. This was surprising news as everybody thought all human life that left this world for the stars were dead.
Traveling Kreeds passed transmissions to our founding settlers that all humans in the travelled star systems have perished from either starvation or hostile battles with other life in the star system. Since we were able to recondition life on earth it has become a natural protection zone within the Advance Intelligent Republic. As far as we know were the only known humans to be included in this from of centralized government. They even went so far as to make Earth the primary headquarters for the government to conduct policy of spreading peace in the universe.
With this key information has brought us all shock to hear our distant human relatives were alive was astounding! Under pretext law all incoming life must be interviewed and scanned for warrants and commutable diseases. After landing on earth the so called Americans' were detained to conduct interview with the leader of the ship. Passengers on board the ship were becoming restless as they were all eager to see the world they're ancestors left. After a month of interviews and examinations the passengers were all accounted for and scanned. A troublesome alert came back to the head organizer that was leading the exam. This was from a higher up that warned they were not to let any American back onto earth soil.
Noting the message the organizer Caesar took heed with the message and began to ask what the reason was for not allowing passage to earth. AIR responded back with another message about what happened with Earth long ago. They mention it was because of their ancestors greed. Earth was a sprawling polluted planet that was on the verge of death. People of extreme wealth were given a privilege to leave this dying planet to seek a new home in the stars. So governments separated wealth and life leave this world, and ultimately chose to leave with wealth. The founder of the new life calendar and new unified government classified those the star travelers as terrorist and banished them from this world. Seeing how many leaders back then and even today mention of this banishment we all follow the laws set by the founders to vow never to let Earth's history to repeat itself.
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jcwxwvd
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jcwwn2y
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[WP] Dragons inherently manifest when there is a certain amount of something that people see as precious. You wake up one day to find a very confused dragon in your 40K figurine room.
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There were things that were needed to be asked.
'Tell me, scaly one. Do I appear before you as a normal human being or as a being of light, clad in gold armour, resembling Henry Cavill?'
The dragon looked at me in a manner that conveyed confusion. 'Of course you look like a normal puny human.'
I knew what had to be done. I bent the knee and started saying the only thing that came to my mind.
'From the moment I understood the weakness of my flesh, it disgusted me.'
'OH, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, I AM NOT THE VOID DRAGON. YOU 40K PLAYERS ARE ALL THE SAME. EITHER YOU START CHANTING LITANIES TO THE MACHINE GOD OR ASK ME TO BLESS YOUR COMPUTER.'
\-Never to be continued. I just wanted to write this-
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Jefferson Petters had been invited by the billionaire Matty Oswell to see the largest/rarest collection of figurines ever collected. Jeff had no idea the man had any interest in the hobby but clearly, he put some effort into this collection. Not only was it reportedly 40,000 strong (he wasn't about to count to verify), but every figure Jefferson examined was amongst the rarest he'd seen. Jefferson was enamored by it all.
Mr Oswell merely watched from one end of the room. He said nothing about the collect, and Jeff quickly forgot he was even there. Then, a sudden breeze sturred up in the sealed room followed by a faint pop. Jeff looked up to see a dragon had appeared, roughly the size of a large dog with a wingspan as wide as the creature was long.
"Very good." Mr Oswell said as he flipped a switch, releasing a net from the ceiling, entqgling the dragon. It failed and clawed, confused at what was happening, but unable to free itself from a net made from some form of metal. 3 men with stun rods entered the room to subdue the creature, clearly practiced at this task.
"You've helped me verify a theory, my dear boy," my oswell said to Jeff. "It's not enough to have a collection of reported value. You must have someone who appreciates it. I've held onto this junk for months and nothing. Barely 5 minutes with you and another dragon for me collection."
"It seems they appear when a collection of value has been amassed, and I have the largest collection of dragons in the world. They are my most cherished posessions. What do you suppose they'll summon as the collection grows?
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jwpt2f6
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[WP] 'Dragon' isn't the name of a particular creature, but a title granted to any being that attains a certain level of legendary power. Anything can become a Dragon, from a wyvern to a human, to a stag, or even a cat. Write a story about an unlikely Dragon.
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A dragon is a being with a heart of fire. Humans, animals, monsters and even the lowliest of bugs can earn this title. Sure, most of the time it’s a human that’s granted the privilege, though once every blue moon, a dragon arrives that is like no other. A being that displays a heart that even the mightiest soldier can’t hope to match.
Rusty.
Beloved dog and family member of the Rogerson household. Rusty got his name from his fur, a stunning orange sprinkling that seemed to glow in the summer sun. All dogs are wonderful dogs, but Rusty could be considered a saint among his kind. A dragon with many tales to tell, however his last story is the one that earned him the fabled title. A story of unbelievable strength against an overbearing foe.
A man can fight an army.
A man can fight disease.
Mother nature is a foe we can’t fight. We can endure her harshness, but we can’t fight her. In a way, it’s poetic, a testament to humans’ connections to their own mothers. A figure that most people could never bring themselves to harm. To strike back against something that gives us life could be considered the greatest sin of them all. Which is why our perseverance against her is always so mesmerizing.
The flames roared that day, the sunny skies burning a little too bright for even brave Rusty. The dog shaded below a tree, watching the kids play. He would join them once he finished cooling off. He panted, that heat growing until he heard a word that he didn’t quite understand.
“FIRE.”
The flames moved quickly, not allowing anyone a chance to flee. When one wooden roof caught on fire, the rest shortly followed. The chaos and smoke disorientating the villagers. Everyone falling victim to the hypnotic dance of the blood red flames. Screams, shouts and sobs filled the town, people trying desperately to find their loved ones. Seeing this, Rusty took action when others stood still.
The dog leapt up, following the sounds. When he heard a sob or cry for help, he forced himself into the home. No matter how hot his paws got, he refused to stop his hunt. Rusty biting the clothes of whoever he found, guiding them to safety. It’s impossible to say how many Rusty saved that day.
Ten
Twenty
Maybe more.
All we know is that Rusty never stopped wagging his tail the entire time. Even when he found himself too exhausted to stand. The tips of his fur charred, hiding his Rusty color. The town expected the worst. To endure the heat and smoke for that long would kill any man, let alone a dog. That night, the town stayed silent, no one able to sleep, sharing that same anxious dread. Would their hero survive?
When the morning sun rose, so did Rusty. Sure, he was a little sore, but he couldn’t be happier. All his favorite humans were still alive. That’s when the decision to bless Rusty with the name was decided. No dog could survive flames as vicious as those. No, only one with the heart of a dragon could. So Rusty, the dragon heart, was named. Getting a steak and a bunch of loving pats as part of his ceremony.
Sadly, Rusty has passed since that fateful day Thirteen years ago. The mighty dragon heart leaving us mortals behind, taking a small piece of our hearts along with him. Still, the legend of a dragon never dies. Even now you can see his statue in the center of town. The back of his body bronze from all the pats he has received over the years, returning him to his mighty orange.
Remember, bravery isn’t a human trait. It’s a trait anyone can process. Let the story of Rusty be a constant reminder that bravery can be found anywhere, even in a loved family dog.
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
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"Contrary to popular believe, dragons aren't green or red scaly creatures that terrorizes townsfolk, but a title given to beings of legendary power"
You read the sentence a few more times, unable to believe that all those stories about dragons wreaking havoc could have been anything but, those gruel winged beasts.
You close your school book and raise your arm. "Yes?" the teacher asks? You're a bit nervous, as it's your first day in the magic academy, but after clearing your throat you find enough courage to speak. "Is it true, that anyone can become a dragon?". The class gets quieter, some classmates start to giggle, but most seem to have as little clue as you have.
"Well you see, Derek, in ancient times the term 'Dragon' was used by powerful wyverns to set themself apart from others of their species. During the decades, this was adopted by most other life forms to describe powerful beings. No matter their race or species."
"But how do you become this powerful?" you blurt out. The teacher looks at you as if you couldn't have asked a more useless question. "Well, you're born with it" he said "at least most of the times. Other times there are gods involved. And sometimes a ritual or two can give you enough power, if you were to get enough sacrifices. But everything except the first is highly unlikely. You would have to be insane, to even try one of the rituals, as most of them have an insanely high likelihood, to straight up kill you or pulverize your mind, leaving behind nothing but a hollow body. And the gods have been silent for years. You'd be better off wishing upon a star. This way you at least don't get killed for annoying the gods. So all in all, if you don't have it, you aren't gonna get it."
The magical bell rang, signaling the end of class, but this time, it didn't stop after a few seconds. Suddenly, sirens start howling and fear is starting to spread. The teacher yells "Silence. Do not panic. We will make our way outside and then someone will guide you to safety. Even tho the dragon alarm wasn't used in ages, the staff is regularly trained on how to evacuate and make sure all students are safe. Now build a line and we will go down."
While building the line you can already hear screams from the outside. The explosions aren't just loud, they make the whole building vibrate. Whatever is going on, it must be pretty close.
Scared stiff you grab the nearest wall in the hopes that you don't collapse. Your knees have never felt that weak. "A real dragon? Here at school?" you think to yourself, while making your way towards the stairs. Another explosion. Some of the students tremble, but manage to catch themselves. You begin to descend as quick as possible with out falling over your classmates.
At the bottom of the stairs, one of the younger teachers is already waiting. He talks to your teacher as soon as everybody arrived at the ground floor. "Professor, I'll take over from here, you're needed in the fight. Please stay safe". The professor nods and rushes out. The moment the door opens, screams of terror and the sound of flames and explosions rushes in. The young teacher cast's a light protection around the students and says: "Once we are out there, we go towards the forest. The barrier should keep stray attacks out. Whatever you do: DO NOT STOP MOVING. Now let's get going. Go Go Go."
The teacher opens the door and one after another starts going outside. When it's your turn, you feel the heat coming from the outside. It smells of burnt flesh. You are too scared to look around, so you just start moving the same direction as everybody else. After a few steps you hear a scream that was so horrible, you couldn't even imagine what horror the person screaming must have gone through. You start building up some courage. You think "I need to see it. I need to see what's wreaking havoc here at school."
You turn around and see the most grotesque picture that anyone has ever seen. Many mages are standing in a circle, trying their best to contain what's inside. Many places in the circle are already empty. Taken by the beast. Those who are still standing, are partially burnt black or missing limbs. In the middle is the beast. At first, you don't even see it. You remember think to yourself "How small can a dragon actually get?" when you finally catch a glimpse.
You can see the hatred in it's eyes, while it's hurling magic spells around, that even some of the higher ups haven't heard about. It's fire breath annihilates everything that isn't fast enough to conjure up a shield or jump out of it's way.
You would have never thought to see something like this, but in the middle of the circle there it was. A fire breathing, magic slinging, people killing chihuahua.
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j5ws905
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j5whn24
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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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I was not born special. The event of my birth was as normal as any other child, a run of the mill baby with run of the mill parents in a house far too cramped and a head far too big for my neck. Yet despite the absolute mundaneness of my birth, my parents loved me as if the world had become anchored around my existence. For them I think it really did.
The house in which I was raised was only special to us, and only because it was ours. To any passerby, any wandering eye on the sidewalk who glared into the windows, they would read our lives as nothing but simple. As a mother who cooked and a father who worked. A child with a sensible amount of curiosity and another who died young. But that wasn't notable, that was just life. That was my life.
But of course, somewhere along the way, I thought the world had begun to revolve around me too. Convinced so by how much love my parents showed me. I must be special if they thought so, my parents were never wrong. And in this rare, stupid instance, it turned out I was right.
I had realized quickly as a child that I could move things. Not move from place to place, but *between* places. I'd put something behind my back and poof, gone. Then with my other I'd reach into the apparent void and just like that, it'd be back again.
A superpower? Hardly. Hell, it was hardly even of any convenience. I had only ever used it as a party trick. A simple display of harmless fun to entertain guests. Well, at least that was until I understood where it all led to.
It was Jackson's thing, a party I guess you could call it. Not enough people to be considered a party I'd thought, but he was turning twenty-one and those few of us there were making a big show of it. Finally he asked me, as he always did when he introduced me to others, if I could show them my "superpower". I obliged, starting with a candle, then a book, a handful of marbles, simple stuff. Sometimes it'd come back odd, candles used, marbles scuffed, minor things that I couldn't explain.
But it didn't seem to be enough, not for Jackson.
"Ok, ok! Now do me!" The room shut up at his eagerness.
"Have uh...have you tried it on a person Harry-" A concerned voice spoke up from the back of the room. But Jackson insisted.
"What? If not even better! I'll be the first." Jackson continued. Everything you've ever put in comes back right?"
I was hesitant, scared, but eager to know where it all went. So, he positioned himself behind me. The small crowd of friend's leaned in as if to notice any imperfection. Any clue of how my oddity worked. But nothing. The moment my hand touched him he simply faded from our existence.
The crowd ooe'd but I trembled knowing the power I now held. If I decided to do nothing he would be gone forever. My hands shook. Instantly I pulled him back, reaching into the void behind my back and yanking. What came through the other side though was something *different*. Much older, grayed hair and circular wrinkles around his eyes. A pair of wire framed glasses he did not previously have.
"I...I...send me back. God please send me back." An audible gasp blew through the room at this older mans desperate pleas. His eyes shot between us as if we were nothing more than distant strangers. But I knew it was him.
"Jackson? What was on the other side- where did you go?" I stuttered the words out.
"Paradise, hell, purgatory, does it matter?! Send me back! Please god what sort of cruel dream!" He dropped to his knees in a desperate plea. Rather than wait for my reply he gripped my hand and dove at my back, dissapearing once again.
Instantly I yanked back, feeling around the void for his shape, but gripping nothing. Nothing came. Nobody in the room moved, they all just stared at one another in disbelief as I struggled. I put my hands behind my back and yanked, and yanked, and yanked, my heart pulsing in my chest.
"Jackson! Jack!" I yelled, pulling one last desperate time. And this time something did come from the other side. A person, child, smooth skinned and wide eyed, no older than five. He looked like Jackson, in an odd way; something deep in his eyes.
"Jackson?" I questioned in a whisper.
And the child shook its head up and down.
Then and there I knew, it was true I was not born special, I was born cursed.
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What?! No!No! Take me back! Take me back! Josh started to scream frantically, his body movement jerky and twitchy. The music stopped, everyone look horrified, at him, his hair, beard and nails overgrown, they suit his was wearing just a minute ago, shabby.
His breath on your face as he grabbed you, screaming and spitting was awful. His teeth yellowed, what was happening?
Before you could react at all Pamela's Husband grabbed Josh and pulled him from you, Josh had his grip so tight on your arm he scrached you as he was pulled away.
Josh looked and sounded like a mad man, yet you couldn't respond, you couldn't process it what had happened? You don't understand, it was literally just a second. You just stand there while the man tried to calm Josh and stop him.
He became violent starting to attack his friends, he knew who they were as he pleaded to be let go, to be able to return, calling his friends by their names. Is was a scary sight some of the women started to take the kids out of the room.
The party was ruined, everything had turned to chaos and you just stood there. You hearded faintly when Jeremy said, that Josh looked thinner, loke he hadn't eaten in a while. You never stopped to think about where the things you made dissappear went.
None of them ever looked older, even the foods... you didn't understand you could. You were immobilized, tears rolling out of your eyes as the evens unfolded around you. Eventually Mark came to you.
- What's happening man? He asked, clearly scared.
-I...I...don't know.
-What do you mean what did you do Alex?
-What did I... I don't know.
Mark's look turned from scared to angry, with him in front of you, you couldn't see the couch where they where still trying to hold Josh, but you could hear him trashing around and mumbling that he needed to go back.
-Alex?! What do we do? He won't stop! Screamed Jeremy as he tried to help Pamela's husband.
You looked around everyone else was gone. You couldn't explain, but before you could even say anything Josh came hurling towards you, pushing Mark out of the way, he did so with such violence Mark fell and hit his head. You couldn't see if he was okay, because Josh was immediately on top of you on the floor shaking you, drooling and screaming that he had to go back that he couldn't be here. Say incoherent things about how once you go you can't come back...you can't .... you can't come back... he didn't want to be back, he had to go, that he was in pain, the pain would only stop if he went back.
Someone must have called the police because you heard sirens outside and saw the blue and red lights reflected on the window.
Something pulled you focus back to Josh, a sharp and piercing pain, he was slawing you chest with his overgrown nails.
Jeremy pulled him away from you and you could see Mark on the floor a blood pool starting to form around his head, Pamela's husband beside him. Your chest wasn't much better and Jeremy struggled with Josh as the police arrived.
You vision was blurry, but you could see two of the police officers pinning Josh down on the floor and subduing him, the last things you saw before you passed out where a paramedic injecting something on Joshes neck and another comming to you.
You woke up on hospital two days later, you chest hurt and you felt like you couldn't breathe. Not even 5 minutes passed before two officers walked in and started asking questions, what had happened to Josh? what drugs had he used? You friends kidly told them you did something to him. And you had, but yoy couldn't expect them to belive you.
You didn't have a reply you didn't know. The cops said thaf Josh was having all of the symptoms of withdraw and that he might not survive, so they needed to know what drug you had given to him
Because they found nothing on the tox screen.
You told them you hadn't given him any drug, that you didn't know what had happened. They started to go ove your "friends" statements... you head felt heavy, your vision go blurry again and the sounds seemed faint.. distant.
You passed out the nurse said, the cops where very mad, but what did they expect...
A few months passed you never saw your friend again, the cops had to clear you has they couldn't prove you had done anything to Josh, just another case closed without and explanation. You had to get a restraining order from Josh. Every now and then he appeared on you door. Seemingly normal, but with that look, that same look from that day asking to be sent back, that he had nothing left in this world, his wife left, he couldn't see his kids, he lost his job and his friends wouldn't come near him...thay he didn't mean for Mark to die, but that he needed to go back, that he was in pain, that he felt empty and no one would miss him.
You hadn't seen him in a while, but you knew he was there... standing outside facing the house. Waiting for a change to go back. You even thought about letting him, but you didn't know what might happen if he did... what was on the otherside.
You promised to never use your power again, not even for small objects, as you look at yourself in the mirror with the scars on your chest...
The end
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j6dg4ca
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j6dbhda
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[WP] While checking out an abandoned island with your new friends, you decide to look at the local pictures online. The only one nearby is a photo of you and your friends posted a month ago, before any of you even met.
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"So...what's the name of that island again?" Sarah asked, swiping through on her phone.
"Hermit Island. Just off the Reef." I didn't look at her, instead kicking a glass bottle across the rocks. I winced when it shattered, then turned to my friends.
"Whoa," Sarah said, and turned her phone around. "Hey Mickey, come and look at this."
The waver in her voice caught my attention, and I jogged over the gravelly sand to see what had upset her.
She, Jason and Beth were gathered around near the front door of the hut, looking into Sarah's phone and muttering "no way!" and "that's gotta be fake, stop messing with us!"
"What's up?" I asked, jumping in behind Beth.
"I was scrolling through the pictures, wanted to add a few I took, and I found this." Sarah turned her phone to face me. "It's a picture of us, but look at the upload date."
My eyes crept down to the right-hand corner. January 17 - almost two weeks before.
"So it's set to the wrong time zone or something," I shrugged.
"Okay, even if that were the case," Sarah turned her phone back around and made a few taps, "you're the one that posted it."
Beth pulled the same photo up on her phone. "And look, all four of us are in the photo."
"So?" Jason asked, looking between the girls.
"So? So, do you see anyone around here who would take a photo of us looking at our phones, looking at this photo?" Sarah asked.
Beth suddenly sat down on a nearby rock, breathing a nit harder. "Guys, I don't feel so good. Can we go?"
Jason grabbed Beth's phone, leaving me to try to calm the girl. He turned a little, looking at the view, then suddenly spun 180 degrees and pointed to the hut's mouldering, rotted door. "Whoever took this is inside the hut!" he called, and raced off.
"Wait -- Jason!" Sarah called, chasing after him.
He ran into the hut yelling "gotcha" and vanished from our sight. Sarah, not far behind her brother, ran inside, calling out, "Wait, you idiot!"
Beth and I looked at each other, then waited for the pair to reemerge.
We waited for ten minutes, but there was no sign of them.
"Guys?" Beth called, standing up.
There was no noise from the hut. Beth slipped her hand in mine, looking up at me.
"Not funny, guys," I sighed pulling Beth along with me to the hut. She stayed behind me, holding my hand. "You can come out now, we're super scared."
"*Good*," hissed a voice, it's words rattling through my head and making my teeth hurt. "*We don't like...fear*."
I looked at Beth, who shook her head. I let her hand go, stepping closer to the hut. "Alright, Jason, you're being a bit of a dick."
The voice laughed, as cold as a graveyard. "*Come inside and stop me*," the voice called, its tone taunting. "*Show me what you've got*."
Beth held onto me. "Something's not right," she said quietly, looking at the wide maw of the house. "Don't go in there."
"Look, it's probably just Jason in there," I said, shrugging. "I'll go in, kick his ass, and drag them back out. You wait here. I'll be back on a minute."
Beth tried to cling to my hand, but I slipped away. "Mickey!" she hissed, throwing terrified glances at the house. "There's something bad there. Mickey!"
I ignored her, striding into the house. The interior was so black, I had trouble seeing the floor. Three paces in, I missed my footling and fell through the floor, into a deep hole. When I scrambled to my feet, I realised there was light here, somehow.
"*That's it*," the voice called from a small crack in the earth. "*Come a little closer, Michael*."
I took a few steps into the crack in the earth, and realised why I coild see light. There was fire up ahead.
"It's okay, Beth!" I called up to her. "I just have to check out this...fire..."
The crack opened up on a cavern, full of creatures unimaginable to the eye. I tried to step backwards, but found only dirt behind me. I was trapped, and I suddenly knew this is not where I wanted to be. This was bad, and there was no way out.
"*Hello, Michael*," the voice said, coming from my left. "*Welcome to Hell. Time to get to work. Those photograph lures won't take themselves*!"
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People always talked about the good old days of the '70s and '80s at Boblo Island in Detroit. It was an amusement park from 1898 to 1993, but it has since become abandoned and ruined.
Roland and his friends lived for exploring abandoned buildings, which Detroit had plenty to offer outside the concrete jungle of the bustling downtown.
They had seen the massive Packard Plant and they even managed to sneak in a trip to the beautiful art deco train station before Ford swooped in, purchased it, and made it inaccessible to the trespassers.
But the holy grail of it all was Boblo Island, the desolate amusement park. There was a lot to see. The abandoned boat was still anchored by the island, not to mention the incredible dancehall built by Henry Ford. There were trains and roller coaster rides to gawk at too. Since it was on an island, they would be one of the very few people that had ever gone exploring there.
It required a boat to get there, and a day came by where Roland and his pals were able to access a boat owned by his friend's father. They felt like pioneers when the four of them managed to cram into a small boat and take a trip to Boblo Island at dusk.
Upon reaching the island, they parked the boat on the beach and got out. Roland and his three other friends marveled at the abandoned boat sitting 200 yards away on a dock. Streams of black lines ran down the windows of the once sterling white ship. Then they scanned the whole island and saw the shadowy figures of the roller coasters and the pavilion and the legendary dance hall.
"God, I can't believe my mom came in the clutch with this map!" Jimmy yelled. He had a pamphlet map his mom had saved from the '80s. A treasure and a relic in the Detroit area.
"Dude, shut up and keep your voice down!" Roland snapped but whispered.
"What? It's not like anyone else is around." Jimmy flapped his hand at Roland.
"Remember that time You were yelling in the Packard Plant and wild dogs barked at us and chased us? Yeah, that wasn't funny," Layla said.
Their other friend Boris was quiet in the corner. Boris preferred exploring and taking the sights in as opposed to talking. Boris loved imagining what the place used to be like when it was full of life.
"Relax, there aren't going to be any dogs here. And if there are, we can easily get back to the boat and be on our merry way," Jimmy said. "Now, how's about we go on that boat?"
"Hold on one second." Boris pulled out photos from his fanny pack. They were pictures taken in the '70s and '80s that he bought at a thrift store. Each photo had a family posing in front of the roller coaster or the dance hall or the boat itself. But something gave him the chills as he referenced the photos again. "Uh, guys..."
Roland and Jimmy were arguing about something stupid in a fury of whispers.
"Layla, check this out. This is really freaky. I feel like I'm seeing something." Boris waved Layla over.
He handed her the photos and she flipped through them.
"Do you notice anything really weird about those photos? I got those at the thrift store but they look totally different now!"
Layla felt her chest tighten up. "Boris, what the hell is this? Is this some kind of a prank?"
"No! I swear, you saw these photos earlier. They're the same ones that were in my bag. I don't know what happened to them."
Layla pinched herself since she thought she was in a nightmare. "Boris... This looks like us. These are pictures of us on the island having *fun*. What the hell! Those are your glasses, and your same hair in this photo from 1970! And that's me! I own those shorts and that t-shirt but I'm not even wearing that right now *what the hell*!"
"I think we should leave this place," Boris uttered, but loud enough for Roland and Jimmy to hear.
"What's that? You want to leave?" Jimmy echoed. "We just got here."
"Roland, check this out," Boris said. Roland was the unofficial leader of the group, whatever he said was practically law. As he walked over, Boris gave him the photos.
Roland furrowed his brow and had confusion written all over his face. "Uh, dude, what's up with these photos?"
"Hey! Jimmy! Where are you going!" Layla shouted.
Jimmy took off running toward the abandoned park while the three of them were analyzing the pics.
"Dammit!" Roland whispered. "Did you Photoshop these or something to freak us out?"
"No, I swear! These are the photos that I bought from the thrift store," Boris said.
Roland exhaled. "Well, we can't leave without Jimmy so I guess we either stay here and wait for him or we go get him right now."
Then the three of them heard a blood curdling scream that sounded like Jimmy's tortured voice. Goosebumps covered their bodies.
r/randallcooper
I recently finished a story that has a same mystery type of feel. Check it out [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/randallcooper/comments/s2kxxl/club_novus_part_1/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button)! :)
I'm also from Michigan and Boblo Island is a very real place. It's a fun little rabbit hole to read about.
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jiprk7h
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jipqdnn
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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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They were trying to warn us.
Our ancestors were great. Our scholars say they had not yet learned of the ley lines pulsating with powerful mana through the land outside of folk tales. But our ancestors were able to mimic even our strongest of magical abilities through means unknown. These abilities must have come at a steep cost, however.
They were trying to warn us.
We discovered the hard way what these costs must have been. My team and I found an old tomb, a mountainous cavern in which the writings of the ancients guarded the door. We attempted to study the meanings but could not quite deduce their message. We should have taken longer in trying to figure it out. We were arrogant in our pursuit of knowledge.
They were trying to warn us.
These poisonous caverns killed all the members of my team except for myself. Even I can feel myself fading, and writing this warning in my field notes journal has taken several hours for a short passage. I leave this here, near my corpse, as a message to anyone who becomes curious of the hieroglyphic's meaning. Ahead there is nothing but accursed misery and death. The rune of warding shown around the entrance to the cavern is a remnant of those who came before, who understood more the toxins that were in this place.
They were trying to warn us. And now I am trying to warn you.
|
"Do you know what lies beyond the Great Wall?" Vernon asked. "I'm just curious, because everything in this land is just beautiful, but beyond the Great Wall, are endless shadows in the skies."
"Those are the ancient ruins bearing symbols of suffering. Never go there," remarked the seasoned Elf adventurer Kallias.
Vernon's curiosity only grew. "What kind of symbols?"
"There's only one word I can safely read from a distance. **RADIATION**, and I'm not about to find out what that accursed thing does. Come, Vernon, we should be heading back to the nearest adventurer's camp."
As Kallias escorted the small group of rookie adventurers back, Vernon never took his eyes off the Great Wall. His mind already racing, churning ideas on how to sneak off and explore the shadowed lands. How dangerous could it be to a dragon sorcerer?
He waited for the adventurers to enter their tents at night before dropping his rookie adventurer illusion. Reading the map Kallias had distributed to the group earlier, Vernon made his way back to the Great Wall.
One simple mana blast and a section of the wall had collapsed. Surely all these ancient words about suffering and death were only there to keep out treasure hunters who would rob the place of its valuables. With a flick of his claws, an illuminating ball of light glowed in front of him, guiding his way through as the darkness enveloped him and grew darker the further he ventured in.
Vernon was disappointed to find nothing but disused machinery and absolutely no treasure! What is up with this place?
Peering through a tiny corridor in the corner of a great hall, Vernon assumed a much smaller human form and slipped into it. Perhaps this was a slightly secretive corridor finally leading to some treasure after all, he thought to himself.
A sudden onset of nausea forced Vernon to lean against a wall to vomit his dinner. The dizziness grew overwhelming, the steady pounding in his head only hit harder as he ventured deeper into the corridor. This could only mean he was getting closer to the protective mechanisms guarding a treasure.
Vernon dropped dead without warning before a mass of black radioactive corium shaped like an elephant's foot, encircled by a mass of corpses of those who did not heed the warnings.
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j43z545
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j43x9k2
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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.
|
"Oh the toe bone's connected to the foot bones" she stomped down hard with the spike of her heel, crushing her captor's pinky toe, forcing him to let go as he squealed and hopped around in pain.
"The foot bone's connected to the talus bone" as she swept down and flipped the second man by his ankle onto his backside.
"The talus bone's connected to the Tibia bone" as she picked up the axe he'd dropped and swung it clean through his lower leg, just below the knee.
Rising in pitch, she sang out "The patella's connected to the Femur bone" as she slipped out of her heels and aimed a round-house kick at the first man's knee, shattering it.
"The femur's connected to the, pelvic bone" as she reversed the axe, whirled around and caught the third man, who, hearing the screams, had entered the door, striking his hip.
"The pelvis's connected to the spinal cord" as reversing the direction, her next blow severed his spine.
"The spine is connected to the clavicle" as she chopped at the shoulder of the first man who was grabbing at her leg from his position on the floor.
"The clavicle's connected to the cervical vertebrae" she sang almost hysterically as she removed his head from his shoulders "The neck bone's not connected to the Cranium, now hear the Word of the Lord".
With that, being finally out of combat, she cast a mass resurrection spell on the rest of the party.
|
I used to draw upon my own strength, magically enhanced, to heal my companions. I could channel a limited about of divine power, but it had its price. Every deal with the devil does. I paid that price, every single day, whether I healed that day or not. The closer I was with my target, the more we’d been through together, the better they healed. But I never grew close anymore.
If somebody hires you because you can bring them back from the brink time and time again, you would think they would pay you well, or at least show some gratitude. They usually did, once or twice. But I was contractually obligated to, and more so, I had to heal to keep myself alive. They knew it, and even if they didn’t start off as callous bastards, they all eventually died that way. Not my fault that the fact they took me for granted loosened the connection and made it harder to heal. It _was_, however, my fault that I didn’t do anything about it. Sure, I could have pushed harder, but who on earth would expend their own life force for assholes?
A younger me might have. But the problem with using your own soul as the spark to light a bigger magical fire is that it always burns up a bit of the soul too. You eventually lose the ability to care. Once emotions go, morals and ethics begin to follow. Now, I wasn’t a soulless emotionless machine like my fellows often mistakenly believed, they were just buried deep, quelled to a smolder so as to not distract—for anyone who tries to heal without any sort of driving goal, a reason to want it, or some sort of passion or obsession, instantly fails. The magic burns you out. Not in any sort of way that would be a spectacular explosion or a violent last gasp, though.
But today was different. This party was just kids. Cold ruthless killers, a product of not only the street gangs of their childhood, but of the impending threat of war that had forced them into that life. I suppose I should have seen the signs coming, of parties coming, failing, going ever so faster, throwing themselves into the fights ever so recklessly, but I didn’t. I was just fulfilling my contract. I look back and wish I had noticed, something to shake me out of my twisted reverie sooner. But I was fading, losing myself in the disconnect. I was just lucky to wake up when I did.
(To be continued)
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lt2c2in
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lsiymxr
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[WP] The hero, normally jovial and humorous in their interactions, steps into a watering hole for villains, shaking with rage, tears running down their face, and with as much patience and calm as they can muster, simply asks "Who did it?"
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There's rules, there's exceptions.
Most heroes understood that. Violence wasn't ok, until it was. Everyone was to be saved, until they weren't. Its why most of them tried to kill me on sight.
There's rules, there's exceptions.
I understood this. You only get to play if you follow the script. You're *expected* to monologue. You can't use anything good until the heroes know you have it. Can't go after family. Etc, etc. I thought I was smart. An exception. Open strong, kill the first hero to show up, and the rest will know better and leave me alone. Apparently, protocol requires 9 heroes on standby for every active hero in an incident. Nine. None of them were happy. Its a rule that heroes exercise restraint. I was the exception. Got 40 years for that. Did 20. They made an exception. Time off for good behavior plus the leg I lost.
When I got out, Princess Echo was all you could hear on the rumor mill. Teen heroes were nothing new. Some behaved, but most had rage problems. Echo was the exception. When heroes took a case, they're supposed to bring the Villain in. Then they'd be off to the next case. Echo would spend *hours* talking to them. She'd follow up. She cared. Everyone made sure I knew. Echo got the kids gloves. Or else.
Which is fair, considering I killed the hero Jackhammer not 3 days after my release. He had been pushing things too hard. The last straw was when he left a purse-snatcher's corpse hanging from a lamp-post as an example to the rest of us. Nobody came for me. That was an exception.
You're supposed to claim the body of a loved one. This was an exception. Nobody would claim this body. Not officially. Whoever it was, they had been tortured and violated so abusively, I wouldn't be surprised if they couldn't even identify him.
Nobody knew why Princess Echo developed a rage problem. This was an exception. One that only grew worse over time. Eventually, she was asked to retire. She refused. *That* was an exception. Then one day, she just stopped taking cases.
Heroes don't come to the Piss&Vinegar. They let villains have that. Princess Echo was now the exception. She stepped over the door, now lying on the floor. Her face reflected dozens of emotions, as if she was still stuck in the trauma. "Who did it? Who killed my father?" She snarled, her voice a complete exception to how she normally talked. Rare was the villain who'd team-up with a hero. As many grabbed their weapons, they were silently deciding that this would be an exception.
Rare was the villain who would simply confess to a crime, but as I rose from my seat and limped to the center of the room, I was the exception. "I did."
We have rules so that we know what to do. People who break the rules get punished. Everyone makes sure everyone else follows the rules. Villains aren't supposed to go after family. I'd broken *another* rule. This should be it. By the rules, I should be dead. As I stood in front of her, gazing into her eyes, I knew this was true. Then she embraced me, crying. "Thank you." Oh. She understood. After what he did to her, **HE** was an exception.
|
"Who did it? I know some of you have crooked connections. I need to know"
There was silence in the bar, in that instance. Everyone held their breath.
That man... He wasn't known for being anything other than jovial. Now, like a terrifying mirror of a kind man, he was shaking with rage, with hurt. This would be bad, in a way that it's hard to describe. Everyone present knew this.
They all knew the horrors of a gentle man forced into war.
Finally, an erudite man in a tuxedo and a top hat, sitting in the darkest back-corner of the bar found the courage to answer.
"Need to know who did what, Gabriel? Many of us have connections, yes, but none here can read minds, let alone one as protected as yours. "
The golden man with a face of sorrowful rage paused at this, staring into nothing and trembling as if reliving horrors untold.
"Last night, while I was patrolling, finding people to help, three officers raided my house, unannounced, uninvited, and without reason.
My wife was chopping vegetables in the kitchen, and was shot dead before she knew what was going on. My daughter had to watch. My dog tried to defend her, but they shot him too. They were negligent; they shot through my dog into my... My baby. They killed them. I CAME HOME TO A DEAD FAMILY AND A TRASHED HOME AND HAD TO WATCH IT HAPPEN ON MY CAMERA SYSTEM -cough-"
"I have dedicated the last two decades of my life to selflessly helping people that can't help themselves. I have worked tirelessly to save millions of lives."
"I won't be doing that anymore"
Everyone in the bar gasped at the declaration. Even at the worst of times, even the villains couldn't believe what they were hearing. The golden savior refusing to help was an entirely foreign concept to them.
"I am done" he continued, heedless of the commotion.
"Either provide to me the identities of the corrupt slime that provided the wrong address and the identities of the monsters that killed my light, or be disposed of with the rest of the human garbage"
"...well get right on that, then. Obviously we don't know right this second, but we have some calls to make. Can you wait like fifteen minutes?"
The well dressed man in the hat was visibly terrified, but unfailingly polite.
"Fine. You have an hour."
"Thank you for your patience and generosity"
"Hmm"
The golden man fell silent like the rest of the bar. When the hat man returned with the information 10 minutes later, the golden man wore a grim smile.
24 hours later, the world was in chaos. Three police officers were killed so brutally that DNA evidence was all that could be used to identify the bodies. A sherrif was found, torn in half. The local district attorney disappeared. A corrupt judge had his arms, legs, ears, nose, and genitals brutally removed and the flesh left behind burnt unrecognizably. He was alive but suffering so badly all he said was broken, incoherent apologies. A small time villain who blackmailed and bribed the above individuals to authorize the raid was found in similar condition as the judge, but every appendage removed from his body was shoved violently into his torn, bloody anal passage. He, too, could only suffer and scream.
The golden man publicly quit, explaining in grim detail what happened to his family. He demanded police reform on threat of death, as many deaths as it would take. He had no desire to be a dictator, but was willing to continue killing people until every police officer was well trained and could be held accountable for their actions.
Ultimately, the world capitulated to his demands.
And the golden man was only ever seen, from that point forward, helping with disaster relief worldwide. He never stopped another crime, never saved a person from another person, and never made another public statement.
Every person that was saved by him from that day forward, reported that the golden man could no longer smile, could no longer give comfort and warmth like he used to. They all claim to feel his sadness.
And then one day many years later, he didn't show up to a natural disaster. He was never seen again.
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jbkea7c
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jbk4qim
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[WP] In 1954, major leaders of the world received a message: “We have examined your planet, and do not find it desirable. As we depart, we leave some of our technology knowledge on your moon for you.” They thought we’d all share it. Instead we had a space race, followed shortly by a tech revolution.
|
Sweat dripped from the trembling forehead of Thomas John Watson Jr, as he spoke:
“I don’t know I swear.”
A twenty-two years old Elon Musk cocked the pistol pointing at Thomas' head. He asked again,
“Tell me about the technology they found on the moon.”
Thomas closed his eyes whimpering. Musk had a grim voice,
“You could fool others but not me. IBM had the technology, didn’t it? Washington gave it to you. Tell me.”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” the old man was shaking.
“There are others who’ll be willing to talk. Goodbye.”
There was a blast from the pistol.
---
“Who are you?” Frederick Kappel was careful to not make any move as a gun pointed at his head. It was the middle of the night and he had been woken up by the sound of someone entering through the window.
“I’ll be the one to ask questions. What do you know about the technology found by Apollo 11?” asked the masked figure of Elon Musk.
“You’re not the first one to ask about that but the gun pointing is new,” Frederick said solemnly.
“You were close to Nixon. There’s no way you don’t know about the tech. What did AT&T use it for?”
“Look. I’ll give you all the answers but please point the gun away.”
“Where are the secrets kept?”
Frederick suddenly turned around, grabbed Musk’s wrist and twisted it up. The old man had strength rivalling that of the twenty-three years old Musk.
While their hands struggled over the control of the gun, Musk freed his legs and punched Frederick in his guts with the full force of his knee causing Frederick to recoil.
“Fine. I’ll find somebody else,” Musk uttered freeing himself.
Musk struck the squirming body of Frederick on his head. He lay unconscious as Musk exited the building.
---
“I don’t think there was ever an alien tech,” thirty-one years old Musk was speaking to his buddy Max who was barely listening in his inebriated state.
Musk was playing with the contents of a glass in front, swirling the liquid with his fingers.
“I have searched for over a decade, searched the deepest most secret files, talked to everyone who’s alive from that time.”
Max looked up to make sense of Musk’s words, blinking his eyes and trying to focus, then went back to smell his arms on the table.
Musk took a sip from his glass while he remembered the only top-secret document that contained anything of his interest. At the end of the document were the words: “No objects of interest found.” The whole document was otherwise incomprehensible.
The whole technological revolution was just US being afraid that Russians had found the alien technology and vice-versa. Fear is the mother of all inventions, he thought.
*We have examined your planet, and do not find it desirable. As we depart, we leave some of our technology knowledge on your moon for you.*
The supposed alien message replayed in Musk’s head. The message was received by the major observatories and the government was quick to hush it up.
*Why would they leave the knowledge on our moon?* he thought
*Why would they not find our planet interesting?*
*Unless.*
*It was not to Earth they directed the message.*
*Could it be?*
“Mars” he shouted in an epiphany.
|
Three months ago, Mr. Dino Callas claims that he was abducted by aliens. With the information we received a week ago, this story may shed light on it.
**ALIEN ABDUCTION RECORD:**
---
I was drinking alone in the woods. I thought it'd be another nice night camping. That's when this LearJet flew down into the field near me. I got worried; if a LearJet lands this close to the forests, there's a chance of a plane crash, and I needed to make sure the pilot or passengers were all right.
The pilot thanked me for attempting to help, but he flew it normally. In gratitude, he asked if I wanted to take a ride with him in it. I agreed.
We got into the air, me in the back of the jet. The pilot asked me if I thought it was nice. I told him LearJets are nice, but Gulfstreams are considered the bigger symbol of success in the field and LearJets hadn't been the peak of the industry since the days of Ric Flair. The pilot asked about these a bit, and I explained what little I knew of them. He turned on a car radio in the midst of the jet, and asked if I thought the sound was good. I said it was nice, but it's about the same as any other car radio set- some even having GPS in them. The pilot asked about GPS, and I told him how it's a satellite position system used to find where you were on the planet at any time and basically navigate for you and keep you from getting lost. The pilot was awestruck when I said this. The pilot asked if I wanted to hang out at his house for a bit, and I agreed.
We went to the house. For lack of a better term, it felt like I stepped into an episode of That '70s Show. The man put on an 8-track tape. The guy seemed to be a diehard fan of Elvis, and had apparent B-sides and remixes I had never heard of, to the point it all sounded like new music to me. We listened to some music. The man asked if I thought his sound system was good. I said that the 8-track thing is retro, but 8-tracks were long out of date. He seemed shocked- I know vinyl is big, but the guy seemed to be unaware CDs even existed. He asked what they were, and I told him how they were a digitized form of storing music, data, and movies. The man was even more shocked when I said they lost power due to the rise of streaming, and was flabbergasted when I told him that you could simply beam any media you wanted to your computer at will. He only got more shocked when I said that pretty much everyone had a computer at home- many more, and that people could even bring a computer in their smartphone with them everywhere. He asked if I did, and I showed him my iPhone. He asked "we all have these?" and I said "yeah; actually that's my burner one so I could just get off the grid." The man's jaw dropped. He asked if he could keep it if it was a backup one and that he'd trade his entire collection of Elvis 8-tracks from the '80s and '90s to me for it- I'm a fan, so I can always go with some good compilations of his music, so I said yes.
The man was in awe when I showed it to him, and simply said "Is this what you've done with what was given? I have to make some phone calls, I'll have to send you back." He flew me back to where my tent was. In the background, I heard the man say "You won't believe what they've done since we last spoke with them, we need to get back into contact with Sol 3 immediately!", and then he flew away.
All I had left to prove it were the 8-track tapes he had traded me [REPORT: The tapes the man showed me looked beaten with 30-40 years of use, but by all signs appear to be new Elvis Presley music that was released long after his apparent death in 1977. However, scouring every antique store in the area led to no luck in finding a working 8-track player to play them and get proof of such.].
( *Inventor William Powell Lear was the businessman who founded LearJet, one of the first private business jet companies. He received 140 patents in his life, most notably the car radio and the 8-track tape player. Conspiracy theories believe many of his inventions were originally technology he had learned from aliens.* )
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j4ttxor
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j4rt3qx
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[WP] When humanity enters the galactic stage we find that our history of violence is quite unusual, but not because we wreaked unimaginable death and destruction upon each other, but rather because we stopped eventually.
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“Wait… so your species kept fighting wars up until today?”
“Yes, it’s extraordinarily rare that you guys stopped. It amazes me that you haven’t had a great powers conflict since your calendar’s year 1946.”
“Yeah, but we had the threat of Mutually Assured Destruction to keep everything low intensity and proxy. How did you guys not blow yourselves up?”
“Mutually Assured Destruction?”
“You know… That whole they launch all of their nuclear weapons, we launch all of ours, the world ends in nuclear fire deal.”
“Nuclear weapons?”
“Wait, you guys have fusion, anti-matter, and FTL and you don’t have nukes? I swear I even saw some archive footage of one of your old ships using nuclear pulse propulsion system. How do you guys not have nukes?”
“Of course we can make nuclear explosions… but why in Pelar’s name would you use it as a weapon? You set one off and you wreck your target, no real point in conquering something if all you get is a pile of irradiated rubble. It makes no sense! Even you guys realized that if you actually ever used them you’d destroy yourselves. What made you think they were ever worth the resources to build?”
“Guess that’s why nobody’s used a Relativistic Kill Vehicle yet…”
“Relativistic Kill Vehicle?”
“Nothing…. Nevermind….”
|
When humanity enters the galactic stage, we find that our history of violence is quite unusual, but not because we wreaked unimaginable death and destruction upon each other, but rather because we stopped eventually.
Often times people ask, "why do bad things happen"? Pain and suffering often times are just words that indicate the need to survive. We become smarter in order to survive; we learned better ways to fend of predators, we also became better predators in order to provide food for ourselves and our families. We needed warmth and security, so we cultivated fire, utilized skins as clothing, and built shelters. Had others not also became smarter this would have been enough. However, as we grew so did the threats. Predators, pry and other humans also became smarter, so the cycle of our evolution continued. Stronger weapons, better shelters, warmer clothing, and the development of reliable food sources where all part of the evolution of man. During the course of this process, we enslaved and tamed lesser species to fulfil are unyielding need to survive, until eventual it was not enough just to survive but instead, we needed to thrive.
So, the answer to the question why bad things happen is not that of some all-powerful deity demands that we suffer. It is simply that we suffer so we can grow, and without suffering in life we would have deuterated as a species. Look at the dodo bird, once a mighty beast but due to an abundance of food and limited dangers in their nature habitat they devolved into something no better than a giant chicken and were eventually wiped out when a legitimate threat did arrive in the form of humans.
Take this rudimentary cycle, of suffering and growth and imagine at what level an intergalactic species would have had to endure in order to evolve into something powerful enough to have mastered space travel? We didn't seek the stars just to learn, we sought the stars to find our next challenge and in order to secure our own survival beyond the confines and restrictions of our own planet. Without this goal in mind, we would have become comfortable, and ignorant in our own little world until a bigger beast came to pluck us out of our existence just like the fabled dodo bird.
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juyy9yd
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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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It was my weekly check-in. I didn't mind. I had won the lottery.
Neuron-degenerative diseases are the worst way to go you can imagine. I had volunteered for every accursed experimental treatment on offer.
I kind of expected that to kill me *faster*.. which, at the time, that counted as an upside.
I got Lucky. I was cured. The shakes are gone. I can walk in a straight line. My memory isn't getting any.. new.. holes. Not getting much back of what was lost, but the ongoing damage? It has stopped.
But there was something a bit off.
... Doctor? You said to report anything strange.
The doctor was too hip to wear a white lab coat. It was lavender instead. I didn't roll my eyes at that. Anyone who can preform work like this gets to wear whatever the heck they like in my book. Nice youngster, though.
And they just focused all the way in. Were they expecting side effects?
".. my grandkids came by. I can babysit them again and I must thank you for that.. Well. They talked me into playing this game with them. Some cartoon characters racing? Kart something? Not the first time.
... I won. I won every game I didn't loose on purpose!
I've never won those games before! It was kind of dull, actually. Too slow."
And now the kid has a shit eating grin on their face.
.. "It worked. It goddamn worked. It worked *just like the model said*. That Never Happens.. So. Now. I get to tell you about ADAM project!
... I knew both an acronym and a prompt when someone served me one. Eh well. Might as well ask. "Which stands for?"
... "Advanced Drone Augmented Management".
I had to suppress a giggle. "You really wanted that to spell out Adam."
"Goddess no, not me."
A moment. "It was my boss that insisted. But your country needs you!"
"... to, what, pilot drones?"
"It's the future of War. "
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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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jy2949m
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jy1nsr4
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[WP] Turns out that Hell has no fire, torture, or frozen wastelands to endure. The only actual punishment is having to spend an eternity with the other assorted jerks that ended up there as well.
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(GARCIN, INEZ, and ESTELLE enters, accompanied by the VALET, and glances around)
GARCIN: So here we are?
VALET: Yes, Mr. Garcin.
GARCIN: And this is what it looks like?
VALET: Yes.
GARCIN: Ikea furniture, I observe... Well, well, I dare say one gets used to it in time.
VALET: Some do, some don't.
GARCIN: Are all the rooms like this one?
VALET: Yes, but the number of screws and pieces is always different.
INEZ: I prefer the Finnala chair. These are all Viskafor chairs.
ESTELLE: Right! In that case, I'll stop you sitting. (She picks up the PAPER Allen Wrench and stabs Inez several times.)
INEZ: But, you crazy creature, what do you think you're doing? You know quite well I'm dead.
ESTELLE: Dead?
INEZ: Dead! Dead! Dead! Meatballs, allen wrenches, tiny pencils--useless. It has happened already, do you understand? Once and for all. SO here we are, forever.
ESTELLE: Forever. My God, how funny! Forever.
GARCIN: For ever, and ever, and ever.
(A long silence.)
GARCIN: Well, well, let's get on with it...
(GARCIN begins to build the Finnalla chair while both INEZ and ESTELLE read the Ikea instructions but they never finish.)
-END-
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When I was escorted to area I was to remain in for, well, not sure how long, but for the time being, I was really fearful. But no. No hot lava or fire showers or being poked with brimming hot pitch forks. I was just sitting on a rather uncomfortable long bench. Just when I started to feel a little smug, as if I might have beaten the system, another bloke sat down at the other end of the bench. I didn't want to make it obvious that I was the new guy. So, I gradually, nonchalantly craned my neck over to the direction the dude was sitting. Tried not to make eye contact. I didn't know if my mind was playing games on me or what, but I could of swore I'd seen that guy before. But, I kept my cool. Just kind of half-smiled and nodded. He looked over at me. He wasn't trying to conceal any stealth at all. He blurted out, "It sucks doesn't it?"I wait a minute before responding, but secretly I was glad he broke the ice first.
"Yeah, I guess so. I dunno. Doesn't seem too bad," I offered back, trying to sound cool.
"They made me shave," he said. I just looked at him. Not sure what to make of it, I just nodded."Uh, what's that now? We gotta' shave down here?"
He responded, "no, just me. There might be a few others. But yeah, I had to shave."
I wasn't quite sure what to make of this guy. He seemed a little off. I was about to say something, change the subject, ask about how the food was, but before I could, he stood and said emphatically, "It's the damn Jews! That's why they why I'm down here."Ohhhhhh now I know how I recognized this dude. Dammit. Friggin' Adolph. Of course. I quickly got up and walked as fast as I could away from him. I ran into Joe Stalin, Pol Pot, Fidel Castro, just a bunch of other @$$holes. They had no power. No authority. Just pathetic, irritating dudes, talking $h!+ that made no sense. I wanted to kill myself, but I was already dead. Later I was informed that I had been brought to the wrong ward. I was then dropped off at a different wing of hell. The sign above the entrance for this corridor read: male Karen's. This was going to be miserable....
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j4k4nj7
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j4jfvr2
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[WP] the normally non-violent hero loads a single bullet into their antique long unused revolver and prepares a shot. "if you kill me you'll be just like me!" the villain exclaims. the hero is unconvinced.
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_bang_
"Why do they keep trying to pull that shit?"
_"Dunno Sidekick Boy."_
"I mean it's not like there's any sort of true equivalence. You only shoot supervillians. And only the ones that kill civilians. They shoot _EVERYBODY_."
Gun Man just shrugs and pops the spent shell from his gun.
"I mean it hasn't worked for the last 20 Supervillians. Why would they think it works for them?"
Gun Man sighs and says, _"Listen. My first supervillian said to me, if I killed them, the number of murderers in the world would stay the same ... so I decided to kill at least two."_
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The hero looks at him. “If I let you live you will escape and hunt down my family and I. No, this is for the best.”
“But you can’t kill me, it’s against all your values. You do this because some villain killed your father. You can’t kill me, I’m also a father!”
The hero looks confused. Then his resolve sets again “No trickery. This is for the best.”
“Kill me now and you won’t be a hero anymore!”
“That’s right. And you are my last rival. I’m retiring. Moving on with my life. My back hurts every morning I get up. The thirties are hard on heroes. I’ll find something else to do. I’ve found something else to do. But I must finish here!”
There is a knock on the door, then it opens. A man in a nice suit walks in. “You are taking your time Barry, you know what must be done.”
The villain stammers “Paul? My second in command? Why are you doing this?”
“I’m five years from retirement. I figure I want to run things for five years then I can retire and I would need to pass the reigns on to someone. Then I was approached by a hero wanting to retire from the hero businesses.”
“I’m sorry Paul, I just can’t do it.”
“That’s alright Barry, I figured as much.” Paul takes the gun.
“Paul! Don’t do this! I can work with-“ Bang!
================
Barry comes to. What a time to remember that memory from twenty years ago. He watches a hero pull out and load a familiar looking gun. “If you kill me, you’ll be just like me” God, this isn’t going to work…
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jasutgq
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jas1i17
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[WP]"Halt, foul beast! You shall threaten this town no longer!" Yelled the hero, drawing their blade, an ancient artefact that glowed and became razor sharp in the presence of evil.. except it wasn't only not glowing, but dulled as the hero pointed it at the 8' tall man-wolf huddled in the corner
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Shaun had tracked the reports of missing livestock and shepherds to the small mountain village of Vastok. He'd found some of the missing beasts penned up with the villagers' own livestock, but the villagers claimed they'd been found wandering along the trails that wound up the mountainside.
He had no reason to doubt them, for the gory scene he'd witnessed around the shepherd's hut down in the valley was the work of a monster, not of mere thieves. If the monster was what he thought it was, he could easily believe that the surviving flock had been driven up the trail by primal terror.
The village headman, a narrow-eyed gaffer named Arlan, seemed to see his presence as an affront to the reputation of the tiny community, and told him that if it was a monster he sought, he'd find none in Vastok.
He did, however, provide Shaun with one useful bit of information: some Vastok folk said there was a huge shaggy wolf, a loner without a pack, that lived in a cave a few miles outside the village, where none dared venture.
Arlan wasn't sure he believed it, himself, but the village set watchmen at night bearing spears and torches, just in case. Perhaps, the old man opined, the beast had decided to try its luck among the less watchful valley folk?
Common spears would hold no terror for the thing that Shaun suspected was roaming the region, but a burning torch swung at it would give it pause, perhaps. It was worth checking out, in any case.
He left the village, and hiked to the cave.
When he came to mouth of the cavern, it's entrance half-hidden in behind a screen of scraggly pines, he immediately saw signs of his quarry. His sharp eyes spotted a mix of gnawed animal bones, torn sacks, and broken crockery around the cave entrance -- the litter he'd expect from a creature that was both man and beast.
He lit a torch to light his way, and then drew his sword. Common weapons could not harm the monster he hunted, but his blade Rivenstar was no common weapon. It was not made of steel, but was forged of enchanted silver, alloyed with metal from a fallen star.
The holy sword's blade became razor sharp and glowed like the star that had birthed it when in the presence of evil, and it sliced through the dark power that protected monsters from mortal steel as easily as it cleaved their flesh.
Armed with this instrument of divine vengeance, he walked boldly forward into the cave. He followed the winding passage that led out the large entrance cavern,
as it wormed it's way deeper into the rock, his eyes searching every shadow.
As he emerged into a larger chamber inside the cave system, a large shaggy gray shape blurred past him, into a side passage. He gave chase, and almost stumbled right into a...bear trap? The thing set traps in it's lair? Proceeding more carefully, he avoided two more bear trap, and skirted around a pit trap lined with sharpened stakes.
Finally, he burst out into another wide chamber, holding his torch aloft. There in the corner, the hackles on its broad back bristling, the creature crouched and snarled, baring long canines. It's overall shape was like that of an enormous man, save for it's legs, which bent like a wolf's, and instead of paws it had clawed hands on its forelimbs. Its head was horrific blend of man and wolf, that glared at him with lambent golden eyes.
It lunged forward, but Shaun warded it back with the torch. He scowled, and raised his blade to strike....
...then he paused. Rivenstar did not burst into light, and its edge did not grow keen.
"Wulver," he whispered, staring at the creature in amazement. "You're no werewolf, you're a *Wulver."*
The creature looked startled.
"You...know of me?" it growled, uncertainly.
Shaun slowly lowered his sword. "Yes. Of your kind, at least. I know you Wulver are not evil by nature -- unlike the bedeviled Werewolves."
"Few ordinary humans can see any difference between us." the Wulver snarled.
Shaun held up his still darkened blade. "Perhaps. But Rivenstar shines against evil, yet sheds no light on you. To merely have a fearful appearance is no crime. My blade does not condemn you, so neither do I."
He sheathed his sword, and the Wulver's golden eyes widened in surprise. It had clearly not expected that.
"Why do you guard your lair with traps, Wulver?" Shaun asked, curiously. "Protection against the villagers?"
"Aye, human, they come hunting me, sometimes. But I confound them with my snares, and with my knowledge of these caves," the Wulver rumbled.
Shaun sighed, his mouth pressing into a grim line. "I see. They hate you, because they think you're a monster."
The Wulver looked surprised again. He shook his shaggy head. "No, human. They hate me because I'm *not."*
/./././
Several minutes later, Shaun emerged from the cave entrance, the Wulver beside him. After what the Wulver -- whose name was Harreth, he'd learned -- had told him, he wasn't surprised to find Arlan and several of the villagers waiting for them there.
"Well," Arlan sneered. "It seems the worthless runt isn't even up to the challenge of taking down the weakest of prey -- despite our practically *gift-wrapping* it for him."
Shaun drew his sword, and extended it towards Arlan and the villagers. They cursed and flinched back as it burst into light in their presence. "I am no one's prey, monster. And by the Divine, you will trouble neither the Wulver nor the valley any more, after this night."
Arlan growled, flashing teeth that elongated into fangs in a blink, his eyes turning yellow and luminous. Around him, the other villagers he'd brought with him began to change, as well.
"Stay behind me." Shaun advised the Wulver, setting his stance.
"No..." Harreth growled. He crouched beside Shaun, baring his fangs, as the werewolves of Vostak assembled before them, hatred and hunger in their eyes.
"I am *done* hiding!" the Wulver roared.
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\[Evil. Perspective.\]
"You shall threaten this town no longer!" The hero drew his blade as the hulking beast in a white trench coat huddled in the corner with his back toward the hero and the rest of the inn. The wolf-man stared down at the corner and the top of his head was covered with dirty blonde fur. The hero held his sword firm while the best did its best to ignore him. And, he couldn't help but notice the distinct lack of glowing power.
Since the wolf wasn't looking anyway, the hero brought his blade closer to examine it. The sharp edge was gone and replaced by the dull wood of a practice sword.
"Huh?" he voiced his surprise and the wolf-beast stiffened.
"I don't want any trouble," he spoke with a low; but youthful grumbling tone. He slowly raised his hands in the air to show he meant no harm. "I'm going to change forms...," he said. The hero didn't quite understand what he meant at first until the beast began to shrink.
"You're... human?" the hero asked. It made sense as far as his weapon; he'd never known humans to be as evil as the creatures of darkness. He relaxed his weapon; but, not his guard. The now much smaller human nodded as he turned around with his hands still in the air. "... and a kid??"
The stranger only reached the hero's shoulder and he looked as young as 14 or 15 summers. He was tan with a mop of curly dirty blonde hair reaching his shoulders.
"Yeah," he nodded. "My name's Ace," he gently lowered his hands, then reached forward with one to offer a handshake.
"I am.. the hero of this town..," the hero accepted the greeting. He wasn't surprised at the teen's firm grip. He had a sudden insight after the exchange. "You're not... the same creature that has been assaulting this town are you?"
"What?" Ace looked surprised for a moment, then he shook his head with a grin. "No, this is my first time," he answered. Thinking back on it, this wolf was obviously different from the other... from the others? As he tried to picture the real threat, the hero had several different images pop into his head. All of them wore different clothing or armor; but, Ace was the first one he could say for sure he'd never seen before. The white trenchcoat made him stand out.
"What brings you to my town?" the hero asked.
"I'm on a quest," Ace replied.
"You're an adventurer?" the hero finally relaxed. If Ace was an adventurer, he would have had no trouble dispatching him. He felt instant respect for Ace trying to resolve things peacefully. And his white coat obviously painted him as one of the good guys.
"I am," Ace nodded.
"That's a relief," the hero had never heard of a werewolf adventurer that he could remember; but he assumed they had to exist. He wandered to the closest table and gestured at one of the seats for Ace. He sat across and rested his wooden sword on the table.
"Tell me about your quest, Adventurer. Perhaps we can help each other; there's a troublesome wolf in the area I'd like your help with."
"I appreciate it," Ace nodded as approached the chair. But, he reached into his coat before he sat down. And he placed a gleaming white shotgun on the table. "There's an item I'm trying to recover. It's supposed to be a challenging fight; but, I think I found a shortcut," he said.
The hero wasn't listening though, he was intrigued by Ace's weapon. It was so white and glossy that at first glance it could be mistaken for a child's toy.
"That is a curious shotgun...," he commented.
"Would you like to inspect it?" Ace happily handed over his gun and the hero didn't hesitate to accept it. It was light as a bundle of sticks. It still felt solid and well-crafted even if it wasn't as heavy as the guns he was used to holding. Not that he had much experience with firearms; his magic sword was all he needed.
"It's...is it real?" he asked.
"Real deadly," Ace chuckled with a nod.
"Where did you get such a magnificent weapon?" he asked as he offered it back to Ace. The teen didn't accept it right away.
"Same place I got the quest," he shrugged. "I can get another one easy enough. If you like it so much... how about a trade?" he asked. Ace's eyes landed squarely on the wooden sword.
"I couldn't...," the hero replied after a moment of deliberation. He wanted to; but, the simple fact that Ace 'could get another one' meant his artifact was the more rare item.
"Ah well, I tried...," Ace shrugged as he reached for the shotgun in the hero's hand. Then, several things happened at once. The hero heard a growl; but, his reflexes were too slow.
Ace leaped from his seat and pushed against the hero with the shotgun he was holding. He was a blur of motion and by the time the hero's mind caught up he was already on his back with an 8-foot-tall werewolf in a white coat stepping on his chest.
Ace held rested his shotgun on the hero's chest as he held up the glowing sword. It now had a sharp, silver edge and was surrounded by brilliant white light.
"WHAT??" the hero was confused. Why didn't the sword warn him? "How??" Ace shrank back into his human form; but, he still kept pressure on the hero to keep him down.
"So, I read the quest text and it's funny," Ace grinned. "It only warns you in the presence of evil because it senses "evil intentions", he said. "I didn't have any until you wouldn't give me the sword."
The hero struggled to push the now-lighter teen off him. As he thrashed around, he noticed all the inn's patrons sitting in the usual spots, eating their usual meals and ignoring the commotion.
"RUN!" he shouted. "Why isn't anyone running??"
"You know what, I'm not really a bad guy," Ace shook his head. Even the sword seemed to agree as its glow dimmed slightly.
"I'll even give you a chance to get out of this with your life; but, without the sword of course," he chuckled. The hero struggled again but made no progress. "I just need you to answer one question for me," Ace said. "If you have an answer."
"What is it?" the hero asked. Ace leaned down to make sure the question was clear.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"I'M THE HERO!" Ace chuckled and shook his head. The hero heard Ace say something before the shotgun fired.
"Obviously not."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1872 in a row. (Story #062 in year six.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/wtglls/tokuhigh_alternet_class/).
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j6o3yd8
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j6o3pmt
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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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"Reroll, please."
My head snaps up from my forging, the soul I was reshaping falling to the anvil. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me buddy! I want a reroll! The last few times you've sent me down as an ant, and then a turkey, and now a lobster? I'm just not *vibing*, you feel me?"
What the actual fuck. I peer down at the lobster-shaped soul blob before me and my own hammer marks glow before me, detailing all the times this soul has been reshaped by me. "How in all worlds have you been here ten times in five days?"
"I told you man, the vibes were *off*, so like I just came back? Not super hard but bro, the judgment line *sucks*. I tried telling the guy up front that I was a frequent customer and next time he should just fast track me to you but he threw me all the way back and I had to wait through the whole thing again! Anyway I want a reroll! No more lame animals, I wanna go back as a dude with a massive sch-"
"Jesus Christ on a slice of toast, just shut the Hell up for a second! HOW are you retaining your memories? That's the first thing I knock out of you."
The lobster raises its front claws in a strange crustacean shrug. "Dunno. Try it."
I swung my hammer down and smashed the lobster with relish. The cleansing sound echoed across my forge as it was reshaped back into a perfect sphere, clear and unblemished as the day it was created. There was no way that-
"Yeahhhh so that didn't work. Don't mind being a ball though. Ooh, sneak me into the NBA! I wanna meet LeBron!"
I looked at the soul, throwing itself in and out of my trash can and yelling something about "slam dunks". Looked at my hammer. Looked at the two hundred thousand page manual labeled "WHAT TO DO WHEN SOMETHING WEIRD HAPPENS IN THE SOUL REFORGER (NOW WITH MORE PAPERWORK!)". Looked back at the soul. At my hammer. At the growing line of souls needing reforging. I made my decision. Snagged the dumb ball mid dunk out of my trash can and placed it on my anvil and held my hammer over it. Ignoring the feeling that I was making a huge mistake, I asked it:
"How big do you want your schlong?"
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“Step forward please. Oh. You again. The boss wants to see you.”
“What…why..?” Lenny stutters.
The attendant doesn’t answer and motions for the next soul to step forward.
Lenny steps aside and anxiously waits for his meeting with the boss. Time seemed to stop while his mind raced about the reasons *the boss* would want to see lowly little Lenny. None of the possible outcomes seemed favorable.
“Soul #52681087, Human Name Lenny, please step up to the desk.”
Lenny gets up, nearly tripping over his own feet. He walks in the room and sees *the boss*, Zixx. Zixx is a brutish looking god. And a powerful god as well. Being the God of Reincarnation requires a tremendous amount of strength, not only physical, but mental too.
“Take a seat Lenny.” Zixx says gruffly. “You’ve been back here…47 times more often than other souls that pass through here. Care to explain why?”
Lenny is silent.
Zixx asks again “Lenny, do you care to explain why you’ve been back so often?”
Lenny is still silent, looking down at his feet.
“We have other options of seeing into your soul, but they are rather…unpleasant.” Zixx says.
This causes Lenny to stir slightly, almost looking like he is ready to speak.
“I… I.. just feel this weight on my soul every time I’m reincarnated. It never leaves. It doesn’t matter if I’m a human, an ant, or any other animal, the feeling remains. Nothing makes it go away, so I need to.”
“And how do you do that?” Zixx asks, some concern in his voice.
“When the weight becomes too much, I find a way out. Just depends what creature I am. If I’m an ant, for example, I’ll get myself crushed.” Lenny says.
“Ahh, I see. And this darkness you speak of, can you tell me more about it?”
The way Zixx is asking questions reminds Lenny of when he was a human and tried therapy.
“Does Zixx… care about me?” Lenny wonders to himself. He is almost touched at the thought of a God actually caring about him.
Lenny tells Zixx about his struggles with life. How, no matter who or what he became, he was still alone. For some reason, Lenny was unable to sustain relationships in his life. Whether they be with other wolves in the pack, or friends to go have dinner with, Lenny was alone. Never family to love him nor friends to care for him.
The more Zixx heard, the sadder he became.
“And then I find out not even Hell wants my soul. How do you think that makes me feel? Hell, the worst place in the existence, does not want me..” Lenny says, starting to sob.
Zixx had heard enough.
“Lenny, if you could have the perfect life, what would it look like?”
“Well, I think I’d like to be a cat in a loving home. They are adored by their family and get to enjoy solitude as well.”
“Lenny, I can do this for you if you promise me one thing…. Please give life a fair shot this time, okay?”
Lenny nods.
And with that, Zixx snapped Lenny’s soul into a nice tabby about to go into a loving home.
———
“What should we name him?” The woman asks.
The man pauses, and thinks for a second.
“I’ve always liked the name Lenny.”
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jr39q48
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jr288pt
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[WP] "They only ever use a single spell in combat" "Yea but theyre REALLY good at that one spell"
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"Technically, it's a curse."
Happus sighed. "That's worse!" He exclaimed. The seasoned warrior hated working with Finnion, but the sorcerer's services came cheap, and Hap was flat broke. "It gets results, Hap," Finnion said. "Put your foolish pride aside and finish the job."
The pair looked to the demon beast that their contract demanded they destroy. It was fumbling around, trying and repeatedly failing to pick up the demonic great sword he had dropped. Fin laughed. "Honestly, I don't know how you can't see the humor in it," he said. The demon cried out in frustration and pain as he sliced a nasty gash across his hand trying to pick it up by the blade. Fin snorted. Hap rolled his eyes.
"There's no glory in killing him like this," the warrior said. "Why is he even still trying? Can't he just pummel us with his bare hands?" Flames danced in the demon's eyes as it glanced up from its discarded sword for the first time. A pyre of hate caught flame in those red orbs as he began his demonic chanting he walked towards them.
Haps face lit up with a grim smile. "That's more like it," he said, drawing his sword and taking up a defensive stance. He chanced a look over at Fin, and saw the sorcerer grimace. "If his hands are weapons, the curse still applies," he said, then drew his hood up and turned around just before a torrent of blood washed over them. Hap wiped the blood from his eyes and recoiled in horror as the demon thrashed on the ground, crimson steams oozing out of his wrists and ankles.
His hands and feet were several paces away.
Hap was frozen by the grisly sight, and it was Fins turn to sigh. "I'll do it then," he said. Fin walked over to the demon, withdrew his belt knife and placed the point over the demon's throat. It ceased its bellowing long enough to speak, this time in the common tongue;
*"Hell pales compared to the evil of this spell,"* it said. Fin drove the blade in, then jerked it up before pulling it out. As the beast gargled out its final breath, Fin loomed over it.
"Technically, it's a curse."
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Mince the mouse was proud of his little nut collection he built. He wouldnt go hungry for a week. He about started the first bite before that big looming shadow came over him no not again! This squirrel is an asshole. “Give em here or ill bite ya again.” Mince begrudgingly handed them over his face grimacing as he looked over into the grass. “Ha loser” said the squirrel before scampering away with his nuts.
Mince is almost knocked over and the grass moves in a wave from the powerful snore of the sleeping bulldog in the sun a bright neon ball in its mouth. Mince squeeks shrilly waking Carlos the Bull dog, “Why do you sleep why dont you chase that squirrel?!” The bulldog wakes with a startle snorting and then gives a look of indifference to the squirrel “he’s over there and I’m over here.” The bulldog murmurs and gets comfortable back into the grass. “But why dont you do it isnt that your job?” The bulldog thinks and says “i get food when I need I sleep when I need and I’m praised for doing nothing. Why should I chase him?” Mince looks confused “But what makes you get out of bed each morning?” Carlos The bulldog says “why would I get out of bed each morning? The only problem in my life is I cant scratch me own back.” Mince storms off frustrated the indifference of the bulldog agitating him while he starves because that bully the squirrel.
The next day Mince gets lucky finding 3 peanuts. Finally he thinks I can eat. As he bigs to take a bite out of his eye he sees the squirrel scampering down the tree. The mouses hairs stand up looking like a little spikeball of fur. “Carlos wake up” carlos stirs awake with that snort and distant look in his eyes. “the squirrel is coming can you help?” Carlos asks “do I have to move?” With those droopy eyes. Mince thinks a moment and takes the ball from Carlos’s mouth. The shock on carlos face as mice shoves three peanuts into his cheeks. “Hold those dont chew” and he puts the ball back in carlos’s mouth.
The Squirrel comes down and says “Give em here Mince.” mince’s heart starts to pound “I-I dont have them.” The squirrel says “You hid them” mince says “Where i am so skinny and brittle I couldnt have possibly put them anywhere.” The squirrel looks around and see Carlos still sleeping. “Next time Mince…” and he scampers away.
Once the squirrel was gone mince says to carlos ok you can wake up. And he retrieves the peanuts from his cheek. Carlos has a look of joy and a big smile over his saggy face “He didn’t even know I wasn’t sleeping I’m really good at faking that!” Mince smiles and says “You did great! You helped me let me scratch your back” as mince expertly scratch’s carlo’s back carlos is raving he’s so excited “He had no idea that idiot I’m really good at this I didn’t think I was good at anything! Thank you mince!” And the two of them became friends carlos finally finding something he’s talented at and mince learning to stand up for himself once and for all.
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jo6o6ox
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jo6nxac
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[WP] For reasons unknown, at the exact same moment everyone in the world lost the ability to change emotions. They were stuck with whatever they were feeling at that moment; anger, fear, constipation, guilt, ecstasy… with a permanent case of curiosity you are determined to find out why.
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I was naturally a curious child growing up, a voracious reader, and a vocal rebel who was constantly questioning the status quo.
It was a good thing for me when the clock struck midnight that day and robbed everyone of their ability to change emotions. Sitting up in bed, browsing a news site, going down and down the rabbit hole of clicking "related news and articles", I still felt mostly myself even when hit with a permanent case of curiosity.
Others were much less fortunate. The effects were immediately obvious and profound as I began my travels to find out what happened. Those who found themselves locked in happiness couldn't stop grinning and laughing, even if they were on the way to attend the funeral of a loved one. Some were trapped in sorrow, their tears forming twin rivers of despair streaking down their faces, never ceasing until they were completely dry and their eyes bloodshot. The people stuck broiling with anger couldn't answer any of my questions without hurling profanities at me, throwing beer cans at me, and thumping their chests. The ones frozen in fear were practically unapproachable, running away or curling up in a fetal position, their lips quivering as no words came out, just fearful, unintelligible blubbering.
Where in the past, it was probably something the old me would want to avoid thinking about, now my obsessive curiosity ventured to think what of those seized by madness.
The first person to be able to hold a conversation with me was an old hermit who was meditating and now perpetually calm. He had prayed to the gods when he saw the events unfolding from his crystal ball, and even they were shuffling with discomfort, unwilling to provide an answer. But he saw through them.
The hermit noted the absence of the God of Emotions, Eros, among the godly pantheon that had spoken to him.
Where will I find this god, I asked.
The hermit knew not where to find him, only pointing me to the god's temple to hopefully seek his followers for answers. There was no guarantee they would aid me, for they could be gripped in the same phenomenon, locked to an emotion that may not make for good conversation. The old man was too calm, too accepting of the circumstances to desire change, so I continued on my journey alone to find just what happened.
Even as curiosity drove me onward, a tiny nagging feeling of desire tickled my mind. Why is this happening, shouldn't I be feeling one and only one feeling like everyone else? A desire for companionship on my curious adventure to find the truth and the source of unending emotions.
In my hopes of finding someone else afflicted with a permanent case of curiosity, I instead found a filthy madman in ragged clothes, having grown bored with insanity and now found himself permanently and painfully lucid. Sufficiently lucid to offer his help and climb the mountains to seek an audience of the followers of Eros.
Everyone at the temple recoiled when we made our arrival. It didn't matter what emotion they were experiencing, they retreated with laughter, stepped back in tears, or stomped their feet with their backs against the walls of the temple.
The only adherent in a tranquil mode spoke barely above a whisper while standing in the middle of our path.
"Why have you brought the Mad God with you?"
The shabby old man raised a hand and spoke. "Eros must wake up and perform his duties. He is foolish to take on Persephone's punishment on Psyche, to be locked in an eternal deep sleep on her behalf."
"...You're lucid," the adherent's tranquility on the verge of being shattered.
"And it hurts to be lucid when you're the God of Madness. Go wake your god up. The only true constant in this world is change. For the world to suffer from unchanging emotions is most unnatural."
The adherent bowed. "We would have awoken our god if we knew how."
The sight of a mad god looking to be deep in contemplation was a bizarre sight I don't think I'll see again.
"If only I was crazy enough to come up with something..."
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There was no wrath quite like a barista permanently scorned. She served each cup with a dollop of malice, her mood untouchable even by those with a permanently pleasant demeanor. I'd drawn every contortion of her face, and in none of them were her lips not pursed. No matter how I tried to phrase my order, she never failed to audibly bark to her co-worker how I didn't need sugar in my coffee because I was too fat or how I looked like I'd just fallen out of bed. When I handed her money, she never failed to find the worst combination of change to give back to me, and she always shook her head as she handed me my coffee, like I'd committed some crime.
I just wanted to understand *why*. I'd had this fixation for quite some time now, which was highly unlike me because I wasn't an obsessive person. If I wasn't watching her during the day, I was jotting down notes about her at night. Sleep eluded me as I tossed and turned. All I wanted was for her to be happy.
When I tried to ask her, she responded with expletives. It didn't matter how nice I was, or what I tried to bribe her with - the response was always the same. Desperate, I even offered her the deed to my house and the keys to my car one day, but she turned them down, saying "she could never accept anything from people like me." When I asked her why, she just told me to go away.
Notebook #1117 (I started numbering them to keep track some time ago, but who knows how many of these there are)
Another woman has started coming into the coffee shop around the time I come in every morning. A blonde with skin that's seen the wrong side of a tanning bed. She's not much nicer than the barista but seems to have a somewhat better rapport with her. It's like they achieve some kind of bond by trading insults. When I've tried that with her it's fallen flat. Insults aren't my thing, I guess.
Anyways, today was special because I believe I saw something a little bit like a laugh come out of the barista while she was talking to the blonde woman. They were calling each other names that I won't repeat here. Ugh. It seemed that the ugliness in their communication got to a point where the barista started to feel some kind of sadistic pleasure in it, but only for a fraction of a moment. Or it could've been a mirage. Could it be that it's been so long since I've seen happiness that I yearn for it like water in the desert?
I've never doubted myself like this before. I used to be pretty resolute in my decisions, but it's been so long that I can't remember what life was like before this all began. All I seem to remember now is the coffee shop and her face. Sometimes I think my forgetfulness should scare me, but fear is numbness in the great beyond. Like, I can't even reach where it would be, or imagine it. Sometimes I think that the barista's insults would've once bothered me, but they never do. Instead, they feed my curiosity all the more.
Variance. The ability to stray off the path into something new, something different. To see the barista's lips crease into a laugh at last. To choose a day not sitting in the booth writing notes as I watched her interact with mostly the same people over and over again. Sometimes I wondered who those people were, what they did. Did it matter? Sometimes I wondered why I wasn't more curious about them, but it never struck me hard enough to get up from the booth to go and ask.
It is what it is. A cliche phrase that people used to throw around... at some point. I can't remember now, but that's all I think as I watch the same sequence play out, jotting it down without a conscious decision. I wondered if I was a slave to some force that I couldn't describe, forcing me to be the universal scribe. If that were the case, I suppose it wasn't the worst fate. After all, I could be the barista, locked in perpetual hatred while bustling on my feet in complete misery. Oh, how I often put myself in her shoes.
Notebook #2892
The thought struck me today that perhaps there was a goal to all of this. A mission, if you will. Maybe, if I executed the sequence in the right manner, something about it would change. Perhaps there might be only one pathway that led to that smile I so sought, and perhaps that smile was important. So important that this moment couldn't end until it happened.
I wish I could go back and read my notebooks, but there are so many of them. To be honest, I can't remember where I put them all. It won't matter. Perhaps, if I just focus as hard as I can, I'll get it soon.
6/15/2023
I just met the angriest barista I'd ever met. Her name was Sarah. She insulted me several times, but I didn't let it get to me. I just told her a joke that was so far off in left field that somehow it caught her off-guard. She smiled. Do you know what happened next? This blonde woman was in line behind me. I saw her face go all aglow when she saw that smile. They locked eyes and it looked like something special.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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jf58d5i
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jf56qfw
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[WP] The dark forest hypothesis is correct. There are many civilizations that exist in the universe, but keep silent in fear of the "hunters in the woods." So, instead of hiding in fear, why not become an angler fish?
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We left Sol in an era of extreme optimism. The growing pains throughout history had been given meaning. Humanity had triumphed over its own darker impulses and emerged into what we thought would be an eternity of light. Perfection of light-speed warp drives, fusion energy generation, and biological immortality opened up a universe we believed to be empty of sapient life to Terran expansion. Scattered like seeds of a dandelion on the wind, we sent generation ships to fill the galaxy with life.
Our craft, The Stygian Blue, was approximately 57 light years from Sol when it happened. The star exploded in a manner indistinguishable from a normal supernova. It should have had hundreds of millions of years left, but was annihilated without warning. Much confusion amongst the crew followed. Was it an unforeseen natural process? Had a rogue and suicidal Terran organization managed it? Or, was it an outside force, and we had just received confirmation that we were not alone in the universe?
All of our sister craft had left Earth and been regularly updated with each other's position and heading, a few thousand craft in all. Fearing that our communications might be monitored, we began sending tight banded communications to the expected locations of the ships that contained all that remained of humanity. Over two centuries, we gathered what information we could about what precisely destroyed Sol, and formed a plan. We would adopt a lifestyle of nomads, hopping from system to system. We would use resources to build more ships and grow our ranks. We would push further and further into the depths of science. We would sacrifice stars, filling systems with sensors and using wide range broadcasts to attract the attention of whatever had destroyed Sol. We would study our enemy, find patterns. With naught but courage, cunning, and grit, we would avenge Terra.
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There are eyes in the tree.
They stare out into the world despairingly, seemingly unseeing to all other roaming creatures, forever burdened with the fear and paranoia that others like them exist too, out here in the silence of the woods. It’s eerie and unnerving, like the universe had swallowed them whole and refused to spit them out. As if the trees were made for something bigger, something unattainable to the quiet life wandering upon its roots.
Indeed, the stillness is a call for all those who dare to be something otherworldly. For their creators and destroyers. Though, perhaps most importantly, the stillness is a call for the 'hunters in the woods'. The strong and fierce, and those who look a little bit like god.
If they were able to leave their hiding place – to see the world for what it truly was – maybe they’d have the chance to become a god, too. maybe the universe would stop being as scary as it was, and maybe the forest would become a place of solace and solitude.
But alas, the eyes continue to roam and watch. Observe the way the wind blows through the fields of grass and blooming flowers, watch the slow blinking of light fade away into darkness, and see the migration of countless fish carding through the rough and calm waters. It was hard to understand something so scary as something also beautiful.
But perhaps that’s the point. Perhaps it’s in the fear that beauty is found.
Perhaps it’s in beauty that *fear* is found.
The world, in all its disparities, inspires and transpires itself to become something better. Something bigger and brighter. The figures walking the ground aimlessly grow with each step they take. Some are small like ladybugs while others appear as mountains.
They place their feet against the warm waves of the ocean, feel the breeze over their shivering skin, and willingly make the trek through the heavy breaker. Even with so much still unknown, and the ocean deep and dark beneath their bodies, they wander the untold as if it’s the only thing they’ve ever been told to do.
As if the sharks didn’t exist. The whales, imaginary. The anglerfish, nothing but cold sand.
But it was also in these creatures that fear arose. Because even if you make it out to sea, even if you walk the miles back, it is in those last seconds – the sound of a large splash or the peaking of a sharp fin – that all too suddenly the unknown becomes that much realer.
The eyes in the trees often wonder about the other creatures, in paranoia and fear and even in curiosity. But mostly they wonder about the unknown. The shark. The whale. The deep ocean waters that still in the darkness of night.
The anglerfish with its luring rod.
And they imagine, not for the first time, what it’d be like to be the ones feared instead.
/r/itrytowrite
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j2sy5j7
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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"
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"Yes"
The agent paused for a moment and said, "That's the dumbest thing I ever heard."
"Of course it is," said the hero, "That's why no one ever guesses I'm Kahle Man."
The talent agent just shook his head and said there's no way that could work.
The hero pointed, "But you didn't know who I was. You refused to believe who I was until I demonstrated my powers right in front of you."
"Why are you doing this?" asked the agent.
The hero explained, "When I was a kid growing up, I was planning on being an entertainer long before I had superpowers. I took music lessons, dance, theatre. The works. Then I was just about to do my first professional debut in live theatre I get exposed to some weird radiation from a meteor or something. I don't know what the heck it was. So I get sidetracked into the hero thing for a bit, but I still want to be a professional entertainer. Plenty of actors make money portraying superheroes, so I figured if anyone should make money off of me, it should be me."
"If anyone wants to make money off of your hero identity, how do you know they'll pick you as an actor? Why not just go with a familiar celebrity?"
"Because I look like me and I have professional acting experience," said the hero, "Besides, no matter who they pick they have to deal with me anyway because I copywritten my hero identity."
"You can't copyright a hero identity!," shouted the agent, "The hero would.... oh my god."
"See?"
The talent agent sunk back into his chair as he realized.
"Holy shit, it's genius."
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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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lx4bfyq
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lx46gqj
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[WP] You don't get it... all you want is to spread this amazing feeling of bliss you've felt since you were bitten by something while swimming. But instead of accepting your gift, everyone keeps tickling you with bullets and screaming stuff like "WHAT IS THAT THING?!" And "OH GOD, IT WON'T DIE!"
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Nobody likes a door-to-door salesman. Especially one that looks like a big blob of slime and tentacles, preaching about the bliss of being bitten at sea. Many end up going for their guns, tickling me with their bullets and screaming.
"What is that thing? Kill it with fire! And bullets!"
And, of course, my favourite.
"Oh my god, why won't it die?"
I don't die because my god has blessed me with his bite. That tooth which sunk into my thigh and was stuck there for a few days before falling off? I keep it in a sacred glass jar. Every day I say my prayers and give thanks.
My god is great. His gift is amazing. This incredible feeling of bliss, of shedding sadness and fleeting fury floating away, more must experience this happiness. And I am here to spread the joy.
I am a spokesperson of my lord and savior. You will hear of his awesome bite. All who meant harm to me, I forgive you, for you know not what you are doing. Everything you throw at me, they don't hurt me. Stick and stones don't break my bones any longer.
This burgeoning bliss within me threatened to burst forth if I do not share it. So, share it, I must. I slithered through the streets and neighbourhoods. Every day, I am knocking on doors to speak of my god and his miraculous bite.
"Transcend your mortality and become immortal in only three simple steps!" I shouted. "Follow me for more info!"
All these rejections are leaves floating away in the wind. Inconsequential. They can't hurt me. Not emotionally, not when I am flooded with joy in my heart and every bit of my being. Not physically, for bullets bounce off me, and my skin deflects blades easily. Nothing can get me down.
Not even monster hunters deployed to hunt me down. On the flip side, I can't ever get drunk drinking wine. I wished I could convert them with a bite as my lord has transformed me, but doesn't work that way. Despite my best efforts, biting people has only led to bleeding and screaming humans trying to get away from me.
They accused me of insanity. I've been wrongly classified as a thrall of the God of Madness. No, my god is the God of Happiness. This is way I am perpetually happy. Always in bliss. Even as I watched from the shadows, lest everyone present collectively lose their minds from my presence, my mother's own funeral.
Crying and feeling sad is par for the course, but I can't cry. I cannot feel or process grief. There is only bliss. Nothing else. Just bliss and me and more deaths. My eyes will not cry, my smile will not fade. I must keep smiling as the Bliss insisted. There was no other emotion to experience.
Only bliss.
----
[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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Nathaniel was so confused. These people just keep running away from him and screaming, they wouldn’t even stop to hear him out!
All his life Nathaniel couldn’t escape the dark thoughts, the ones that told him he was worthless, a waste of space, and a failure. It didn’t help that his mother seemed to agree with their assessment and made it well known at every opportunity. Nathaniel tried to prove them wrong, to do better, but they were right. They were always right. The best thing Nathaniel could do for everyone was to stop wrecking everyone’s lives forever.
So one night, as his mother slept, Nathaniel made his way down to the river for what he thought would be his last trek. He threw himself into the waves and waited to be pulled under.
But that’s not what happened.
Instead of being dragged under the water to suffocate, Nathaniel felt a sharp pain in his calf before a calming presence washed over him, filling his mind with wonderful thoughts.
“Go back and share what you have received. Show the people how good life can be if they surrender as you have.” The words seemed to echo in his mind, as though Nathaniel thought them himself. Without a second thought, he rose from the water and started walking back to his town. He needed to share this gift.
When the first person saw him, Nathaniel was excited, he was so excited to have a companion in his bliss. But that excitement ended when the man screamed. He then pulled out a small, black object and a loud bang filled the air.
Nathaniel expected the gunshot to hurt, but it didn’t. It barely even tickled. Figuring it was another gift from the river, Nathaniel continued to move forward, ignoring the follow-up gunshots the man fired. Eventually, he ran out of bullets and turned to flee. This is when Nathaniel noticed everyone else was fleeing too.
Didn’t they want peace? Didn’t they want the rivers gift? Why were they running away.
After chasing the fleeing people for several blocks, Nathaniel came across a young woman laying on the sidewalk next to an overturned wheelchair. Feeling a great joy that he could share his bliss with someone who clearly deserved it, Nathaniel made his way over to the crying girl.
“I gift you with the greatest peace known to man, one that will bring you joy in all you days.” Nathaniel didn’t know why he spoke, maybe he wanted her to be less scared or to understand the gift he was giving her. But the woman still shook her head.
“I-I don’t want your gift.” Nathaniel froze, not understanding.
“You don’t?” He lowered his hand from where he was about to touch her. “Why?”
The girl looked over him more carefully, as though considering him in a new way. “If peace is forced, it is not real peace.” She explained
“It’s… not?” Nathaniel couldn’t wrap his head around it. Was this not peace?
“No.” The girl looked sad again, but this time it was directed at Nathaniel.
“Then what is this?” He gestures to himself.
“I don’t know.” Suddenly, Nathaniel remembers her chair and quickly sets it up for her, allowing her to climb back into it so she can maneuver. “But I have an idea on how we can find out.” Nathaniel considered this for a moment. He was curious. What harm could it do?
As he nodded, the girl smiled at him, reaching out her hand for him to take. “Come on. I have a friend who can help.”
Nathaniel took her hand, allowing her to lead him away. He wasn’t sure where they were going or what they were doing, but Nathaniel figured the girl was right. He shouldn’t just force peace on people who didn’t want it. He could find people who did or find another way to bring people peace. Either way, he would spread the river’s gift.
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je7p86p
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je7ecpe
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[WP] You are a budget mage. While most of your colleagues use costly ingredients, rituals that take weeks to prepare and use a new spell for every problem, you only know a few spells, use common household ingredients and prepare rituals within minutes. They unjustly deride your work as shoddy.
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The Magical Academy of the Magus Delegation was one of the most renowned in the land for training Adventurers who could help various kingdoms with their problems. Wizards who stoppered death, and bottled dragon's breath in neat orderly bottles while carrying scrolls covered in ancient glyphs and sigils. Sorcerers who molded the world around them through will and cunning. Warlocks who bargained with spirits and fey for secretive power. Even the occasional Bard, or Mystic would come from it's halls to perform quests for profit.
Most of the students in this academy were legacies, defended from retired adventurers who had made their fortune, and were passing the torch. I was different.
The 5th son of a fisherman and his wife, I had nothing to inherit, and no real cause for learning much beyond how to use a knife and trim a sail. But I knew some magic. I mostly worked with simple things. Cantrips and spells from the evocation school were my specialty.
It had all started when one of the 'Legacies' had stolen my components, and chucked them out the window. I had minutes to aquire enough components to perform 3 spells, and had only been able to find a salt shaker that was half full.
While other potential students laughed at me, I performed my first spell, by casting shocking grasp. The salt shaker had been made of rough quartz, and has a silver lid, so the shaker itself worked for this. The crystal structure flexed as I passed some magical current through it, and Zzzzap. Mild electric current.
Next I focused and cast a sleep spell on a rat in a cage. Sand was normally used, but both sand and salt are forms of crushed rocks that came from the ocean, so I was able to focus, and get the desired effect.
Being a Evocator, the natural third spell was elemental in nature. I conjured a spark from the salt shaker, passed the current through a handful of salt, and then threw the silver metal, Sodium, at the target, it lighting up with fire as it arced from my fingertips. Shocking Grasp, Sleep, and Firebolt. Although, the room did smell a bit like a pool.
The Legacies looked like they had eaten lemons. Their parents looked like they had eaten the trees the lemons came from. Some of the staff, who I would soon learn had a predisposition towards richer families that could afford to pamper their kids teachers, sneered at me.
The headmistress though, she smiled stood, and asked if I wanted to be her direct apprentice.
That's how I started on my path to becoming an adventuring Mage, with just my wits and a salt shaker.
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Most mages have their classroom in a grandiose hall or a auditorium.
"Teacher..." Neima sheepishly looked at the mage beside her. Under a tree wasn't exactly a good place for teaching. So the gazes bothered Neima a bit.
But with a wave of his hand he spoke,
"Ignore those pretentious pricks. Now use silverware like a spoon for a catalyst and..."
Neima watched for a third time as the magic activated. She scribbled in her notes as the mage walked to the side and sat down on a chair.
"Now tell me despite the lack of Catalyst Crystal why did the magic activated."
Neima scratched her head for a proper answer. The mage waited for her to come to a conclusion.
"You used silver spoon as a catalyst."
"Yes. But why? What's my reasoning behind this?"
Neima once again scratched her head and looked back at her previous note and a word came to her attention,
"Mana Conductivity."
The mage grinned.
"Correct! Like the Catalyst Crystal, Silver has high enough resistance and conductive power to syphon Mana. But if you don't have silver what can you use instead?"
Neima was getting a bit scared honestly. Today he used simple Iron and a copper coin as a catalyst. Now silver yet there are more things that can conduct Mana.
Seeing her puzzling look the mage answered,
"Salt water."
The answer baffled Neima.
"We will end the experiment here today. Review what you learned. Next class we will learn effect of Mana in lower temperature."
Neima quickly noted down all the questions for homework. The mage got up and started to leave. Unlike usual Neima followed,
"You have something you wanna ask?"
"Teacher...why do you do these?"
The mage chuckled.
"Everyone ask me that sooner or later."
He shook his head as he answered,
"My answer is the same as always Neima. My goal is to make Magic available for all. Just like how my teacher intended."
"Did she really come up with all these?"
"Yes actually. She taught me all those concepts. Conductivity, Resistance, Super Conductivity and so on."
The mage sighed.
"Alas, the grand council never took her hypothesis seriously. Can't blame them though."
"Why not?"
"Well even to this day I'm not sure what she meant by Charges or Magnetic Wave. But I'm sure I can figure it out one day."
The mage said with confidence. He was her greatest student. He was also the only student but he skipped past that part.
The mage still remember how she spoke of a power. A power so great that would revolutionize the world. With that power no child will die because of cold. No house will be without light.
Yet no matter what he can't for the life of him figure out how to create that power.
She spent her life to bring it to fruition. And as her successor he must do it too.
Neima showed promise. Maybe if he fails he could pass her masters notes to her.
For everyone his master was a mad and disgraced mage. But he knew better.
"Do you wanna a hear a story?" the mage suddenly chimed to Neima.
"Uhh... Sure."
The mage smiled,
"This is a story my teacher often used to tell me."
The mage remeberd fondly as he spoke out,
"It's about a man who invented greatest power that changed the world."
Neima looked interested,
"Is this a real story?"
"Well according my teacher it's just a story from her home."
The mage turned towards her,
"She named me after man in this story."
Neima could see the look of pride and fondness in his eyes.
With a cough he started the tale,
"This is the story of Edison and how invented the power of Electricity."
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kdkuwkc
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kdkqdl7
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[WP] One day, magically, everyone across the world was given a superpower of their choice. Now, 5 years later, it seems your unconventional choice is paying off far more in life than your flying, super strong and mind reading friends.
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Many chose to fly, many chose strength, many chose the key to every mind. Some used their newfound powers responsibly, others have been hunted down due to the cheer chaos they wrought.
There was a limit, of course. One couldn't simply chose omnipotence and play god, though the limit was somewhat abstract. It was simple, pick a power and you shall have it as long as you can't blow up the world in one or a few go's. An example, is that some chose to control gravity, and can even create singularities in the palm of their hand, but when it left them and contacted something else, hawking radiation in a massive burst ensured the cataclysm couldn't start. Bad luck for everyone that received lethal doses of radiation, though.
Scientists were baffled, and those that chose omniscience just couldn't stop rambling about something called the crystal vault. We have yet to pry anything but endless equations and existential dread from such people. Some even created religions around this arbitrary title, digging around the entire world for mentions of the fabled vault.
I do not concern myself with such things, nor do I have to. Did the world drastically change as time passed? Not really. Chaos at first, but stabilized rather quickly due to specialized units hunting down "rogues". Hunters. They won't bring you to justice. They are justice.
Those more cunning chose perfect stealth, and there is little to be done about that. Insurance companies have been eating good ever since. Others picked eternal youth and are now models. The even more cunning picked to manipulate their body at will, allowing multiple people to exist and not exist at the same time. Perfect for fraud and evading incarceration. Those truly smart picked charisma, and one of them is now the president.
There were many options. What I picked? Luck. Or more specifically, the manipulation of probability. Let's suppose you shoot me, did the gun jam? Of course it did. Throw me off a building? Oh look! A truck filled with mattresses. What are the chances some random mafia goon transfers millions to my account from a burner phone? 100%. What are the chances I am investigated? Oh my, the investigator didn't find anything conclusive and wrote on the report that I was affiliated to a billionaire due to some random search engine algorithm bug? Seems improbable, right?
Did I just walk in to a pizzaria, stole all the pizza and went on my way unnoticed because everyone inside the building was distracted with a fatal car crash that happened just outside?
Did I cross the road without looking and suddenly a car's tire blew out just in time to swerve it away from me? Lucky, I suppose. Bad day for the driver, he wasn't wearing a seatbelt.
Did I get a really big promotion at my company? I did, but a lot of people got laid off.
Was I visited by a hunter once? Yeah, but they apparently had the wrong guy and even issued me some compensation. The neighbor must have dyed the air humidifier red today...
Did I just decide to waltz into the the national reserve and steal bunch of gold, just because? Every sensor failed, the cameras malfunctioned for a bit and the guards were dicking around or were sleeping on the job. What are the chances- Oh man, the world trade center!
I noticed that I was getting lucky at the cost of everyone else. There were consequences to my actions, after all.
But what are the chances that the consequences will reach me?
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While certain powers are often connected to certain mental issues, there are often various "takes" made on the most common powers. Leading to various different problems when they go off the rails. That's where I come in.
Take flight and speed for an example. An overwhelmingly large percentage of Speedsters and Flyers showed escapism tendencies pre-Empowerment, but there is also a good 22% that were thrill seekers.
When the first group goes bad, they tend to become perennial abandoners. Leaving houses, families, businesses, and debts behind them for the wide blue yonder. A Global Identity system, really good therapists, and various debt reforms eventually sorted those guys out.
The second group is more trouble overall. They tend to start pranking, breaking and entering, bank robbery, trying to pants politicians. That problem took inventing and selling a cheap molecular-thin razor wire to various governments and corporations.
The stuff rips harmlessly like wet tissue paper if a person hits it at normal speed. It's not so harmless if you're travelling at Mach 1. Then it's all TV shows and a good mop to get the message across. Eventually the smarter ones caught on and slowed down.
The various Invisible Men and Women, nearly to the last one of them, are Vouyers, Stalkers and Creeps. They terrified women and families with children for all of seven months, until we collectively realised that not one of the pervy idiots ever imagined Super Silence as part of their power set. Or the ability to turn clothing invisible. Or a resistance to wind chill, sun burn, various prickles, paints, chemical sprays or Lego.
And every family has someone with a defensive or offensive Super Power now. We just send out community announcements when a Super Perv moves into an area, declare an Open Season on anyone using Powers to invade privacy, and things usually sort themselves out pretty quickly.
Then there's Super Strength. These tend to split into three broad groups, each with their unique issues.
First, you get the "Hulks". People who got Super Strength because they constantly fantasized violently before the Empowerment. Absolutely nothing about their power actually affects their mental state, no matter what some of them tried to get people to believe. They're just assholes.
Once they became capable of lifting a car, they invariably started throwing them. Turns out very few of them had enough foresight to imagine their power coming with Super Resistance. Especially against snipers. As a group, they pretty much became extinct in 4 years. Almost nobody misses them.
Then there's the "Shields". Most started with a strong motivation to protect their families, communities and selves. For a while, they did a lot of good. But eventually a good 90% of them felt undervalued by society and started acting out.
Some of them _were_ treated pretty shabbily, but the majority just got an over-inflated ego. Or frightened away the very people that they were trying to protect. And/or fell into undiagnosed depression.
Sadly, this group _did_ invariably imagine Super Resistant as part of their power, so pharmaceutical methods had to be used. There are entire hospital wards dedicated to keeping the worst of this group under. The rest were given medical prescriptions for Mary-Jane and other various uppers and downers.
Finally there are the Bunyans. People who imagined using Super Strength constructively and non-violently. These are my favourite group. Talk about Super Chill. Basically all that was needed were setting up safe spaces for them, where other people _couldn't_ get close enough to try to bait the famously unflappable. Or rather, the _nearly_ unflappable. It was this or accepting the occasional body flung across whole city blocks when someone invariably pushes their luck.
So you see, it's not just about the power set we have to deal with, but also the motivations behind why _that_ power.
What's my Power? I'm a Trouble Shooter and I'm very much in demand. Nothing I like more than being given a difficult problem to solve, and coming up with an elegant solution. For the right money, that is.
Now if you excuse me, there's a Gravity Manipulator tearing up Florida and I have to put my thinking hat on. The first problem I have to solve is, "Is this actually a problem?"
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jpyengg
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jpxrpxk
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[WP] You managed to retire from the supervillain game long ago, when you became a parent. Now, your grandchild has inadvertently been kidnapped by an upstart villain, and you're about to show them why the world (rightfully) feared you.
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“It’s a lovely day isn’t it?”
“Look, we don’t want any trouble. Just transfer us the money and no one will get hurt.” The voices on the other side of the phone sounds spooked by my sudden remark.
“Did you lock them in the basement?”
“Oh she is so scared in the pitch black basement, behind these heavy vault doors. Now if you give us the money, without stirring up any trouble, we’ll let her go.”
“You know… No one wants trouble, but it keeps on knocking on the door.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Who’s there?” “Don’t try anything old man, I will kill your granddaughter.” “Fuck he found us.” “Can you see him?” “No there’s no sign of him.”
“We have your grand..”
“ I know, I know. But you should also know it’s been over 15 minutes since we started talking, and you’re in my old house.”
“Yeah and we’re getting impatient.”
“Now now, just remain calm, it’ll only be a few more seconds.”
“What? Are you fucking insane?”
“And…. Now.”
“….” The phone returned static. That because everything above ground was burned in a instant, a perfectly circled on the land where the house once stood, now just some pillars of concrete and steel, and of course the carbonized remains of the kidnappers. The solar beam has reached the earth surface after 8 light minutes of travel.
“That should leave the message.” I walked out of my cloaked shuttle with a handheld laser cutter, and walked towards the half melted basement vault door. “I did build these atomic shelters very well back in the days. Too bad people stopped buying them. Guess this will stimulate the market.”
|
His granddaughter walked out of the police station with the conclusion from her savior that she had no idea what she was doing. The old man in the car took her home and bandaged her up. “What in gods name we’re you thinking?”
“I wanted to prove myself to the other villains that I can do something.”
“So you went after the most powerful hero with the biggest ego and you’re surprised your plan didn’t work?”
“It was worth a shot, and the bank that I robbed was about to lay off thou-“
“Cut the crap! You think that just because you got superpowers of your own means you rule the world. I’ve seen people in my day who were drunk and had more sense.”
“Those days are done! Back in the day you didn’t have superpowers and you fought the mob.”
The grandpa sighed and grabbed the first aid kit from the closet. While patching up his only living relative he told her a story.
“The fights you have didn’t begin with you, even before I was born the city the people found themselves at war.”
“Why did they fight?”
“Same reason why you tried to fight. Honor, glory and most importantly…money.”
….. years earlier
The alarm brought the screams of everyone inside the trans national bank. Before one of the robbers could stop any of the crowd from fleeing most if not all the tellers and customers fled to the streets. In a thick Irish accent the leader shouted to the soon to be grandpa. “Aye did you pull the alarm?”
“It wasn’t me!”
“When we get back you better be telling me the truth.”
All the robbers entered the vault and took as much money as they could grab. As the cops arrive the group separated into the busy streets. The grandfather attempted to do a dashing escape by climbing up the top of the building and hoping no one else had the courage. There was one cop who chased him wherever he went. It didn’t matter what risks he took as the cop was always a few yards away. Soon the grandfather made a mistake and the cop tackled him to the ground.
“I want mee lawyer pig.”
“I wouldn’t call me pig since I caught up to you…brother.”
……
“It was a different world back then. Instead of superpowers all sides used their wit and perseverance to win the day.”
“The cop was your brother.”
“He decided that he wanted his side and I was content with the side I chose.”
…..
Later on the wannabe supervillain finds that his grandpa was a mob enforcer and later a lawyer for the local Irish mob. He would give up the life and reveal how his granddaughter and many others were tortured by the hero and through a legal trial the hero became a outcast.
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kxhjtrt
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kxhhknq
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[WP] "Oh for fucks sake, you too? Right, ok, cards on the table. Is anyone here ACTUALLY a human being and not an inhuman creature infiltrating the human race?"
|
I knocked on the door and entered the room. A table full of non-human entities turned their heads to stare back at me. I closed the door with my one free hand and counted to three.
I opened the door again.
No, still non-human.
> *It's okay, you've been through worse.*
> *When?! When have I been through worse?!*
> *Just act normal. Like nothing is wrong.*
I looked at the man at the head of the table. Flashing a smile, I used my most pleasant voice.
> "Excuse me sir, but I have the coffee you ordered."
My boss looked at me, looked at the non-human members at the table and looked at me again. I kept the smile plastered on my face. I could feel beads of cold sweat on the back of my neck. The tension in the room grew tighter...tighter...tighter.
My brain screamed The Mantra that has saved me countless times. A defense mechanism that has served me well all throughout my life.
> *Don't fidget, don't fidget, don't fidget!*
The mantra grew louder and louder. The tension grew tighter and tighter. Like a giant python slowly squeezing the life out of me. I resisted the urge to throw the coffee against the wall and scream until my throat was raw.
What was only a few seconds felt like an eternity.
My boss gestured for me to hand out the coffee. People describe the appearance of aliens. What I immediately noticed was *the smell.* There were hints that were vaguely familiar but overall, it smelled gross. Very gross. Like a wet, slimy smell. I do not know how else to describe it.
I knew whose coffee was whose because they all sat in the same chairs. I was grateful for that small mercy.
I passed my last coffee and asked if there was anything else I could do for them.
The alien seated on the right side of my boss pressed a button behind his ear. He spoke but his language was very garbled. Like an untalented death metal singer singing his lyrics in German but was not fluent in the language.
As he spoke, a robotic voice translated. The device behind his ear was a translator. Or what I thought was his ear. Upon closer inspection, it looked like a spiral tattoo on the side of his freakishly large and squarish head.
> "She is a witness."
Chills ran up my spine as all heads at the table turned to look at me.
> *Don't fidget. Don't fidget. Don't fidget...*
|
“Ok you’re overreacting, there’s only 3 aliens here and there’s….”
“6” one aliens reminds.
“Yeah 6 people here in total.” Marcus assures “And I’m not an alien, and you’re- well- probably not an alien” he says, referring to Will, who’s still just a little freaked out.
“But what about… David?” Will asks.
“David? Look at him! He looks fine! Right David?”
“….” Dave continues to lie on the spaceship floor.
“Oh” an alien interjects “David’s dead, I thought you guys could tell”
“Look at that!!” Will says “they killed David!!”
“No,” says another “he had a heart attack about 13 minutes ago, none of you guys noticed”
“But- you did-?”
“Well uhh, I mean, yeah, but like, it’s not our job” the aliens shrug.
“Oh god oh god oh god” Will paces back and forth.
“Hey um” Marcus says to the others “you should probably go, he’s a *little* freaked out right now”
“A bit racist” one alien says to another as they leave.
“Ikr??” One says back.
The door closes.
“Hey” Marcus says to Will “it’ll be ok”
“No it won’t!! Dave’s dead, our three maintenance workers are aliens, YOU might be an alien, what- what are we gonna do??”
“Well, the aliens seem pretty chill, so far ig”
“They killed our maintenance workers and took over their bodies!! They aren’t chill!!”
“Yeah but, what used-to-be-Paul made an ‘Im sorry’ cake”
“He made it out of dried meat”
“Yeah but it was a nice gesture…”
Will starts to hyperventilate. It’s time that Marcus reveals his plan.
“Hey, what if we” Will looks up at him “what if we escape in the escape jet”
“But” Will reminds “we’ll die out here, there’s nothing out there to save us”
“Better than dying here with three aliens. And anyway, they can’t control the ship if we leave it on access mode inside the escape jet. Ruins everything for their ‘colonizing earth nicely’ plans”
“Yeah, true”
After some more coercion, Will is finally convinced. They enter the quite cramped escape jet.
“Alright” Marcus says “when I press this button, we’ll lock the mainframe, and this button will send us into space”
“And we can’t lock the mainframe in space?”
“Nope”
“Ok, which one is which again?”
“Uhh- oh shit- which one is which?”
“Just press one, it’s a 50/50 shot”
“No, no, I can remember- what was it, what was it?”
“I’m getting bored” Will says “just press one”
“No, if I remember correctly it’s-“
Will goes in front of him and pressing a button completely randomly. The ship wirls, but stays still.
“See?” Will says “50 / 50”
“The fact that you freak out over 3 aliens but then them getting the mainframe is super chill to you, it’s confusing”
“I’m a confusing guy. But hey, we’re not gone yet, which means-“
As he says that, the ship makes a clicking sound, and a sudden ‘push’ from the side makes it apparent that they’re moving.
Marcus sits up and quickly spams the other button, hoping it’ll make a difference. It dosen’t. As they float away all they can see is three tiny middle fingers from three aliens, that are speeding away into the general direction of earth.
“Well” Marcus begins “we’re fucked. Wanna make out?”
“Fuck no”
- An amateur writer, lmk what I can improve! Thanks for reading! :) -
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ktiot45
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ktie3ji
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[WP] The war has ended, and all governments have collapsed. Now the world is so devastated that recovery is but a pipe dream. Now, in a cruel twist of fate, a massive alien fleet arrives, demanding to speak to the leaders. You are chosen at random to address them.
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"We seek a meeting with your leaders."
"Go, go," everyone shouted, pushing me forward.
"Are you the leader of Earth?"
"I'm more of a half leader, really more of a pint actually?" It never hurts to open with a joke. At least, that was my philosophy at the car lot where I used to work.
"Are you the leader or not?" The tall brutish alien demanded to know.
"It depends, do you plan to kill, capture, or humilate the leaders of these people?" I feel this was an important thing to know before casually admitting to being the leader.
"No. We come in peace?"
"Just like my coffee table from Ikea. I see, I see. Then in that case, I am their leader, take me to your peace."
The alien frowned and cocked his head to the side like a puzzled doggo.
"Are you really their leader?"
"I was elected by committee, so yeah, I guess I'm the leader." I needed to be serious. This was serious. I can't resort to my old habits of making jokes out of everything just because I'm nervous. "I am the leader."
"Great. We demand to know why this world keeps bombarding the the universe with the same nonsensical signal over and over again."
I couldn't help but gawk at the big guy.
"You're not here to conquer us or invade?"
"Conquer you? Ha. We are capable of interstellar travel, why would we bother to invade world with no functioning government and a collapsed world economy. Other than natural resources, you really have nothing that interest us. I mean no offense, but we're higher level lifeforms. Come on. This would be a money pit for us. You don't even count as a fixer upper."
"Okay, okay. I get it. There's no reason to be insulting. You say you came here to understand why Earth is sending out the same signal over and over again? I can only assume that we were doing it in hopes of making contact with alien civilizations."
"So, you meant for us to receive this transmission over and over again?"
"Most likely." There was a good possibility that we did it intentionally, so my guess was most probably accurate.
"Do you have the power to stop the broadcast?" The alien asked.
"Maybe. What kind of broadcast is it?"
The alien produced a device that looked like a tablet. The tablet activated and produced a floating hologram in between them.
*"We're no strangers to love. You know the rules and so do I . . ."*
My mind went blank, and when I turned back to gauge the crowd's reaction, all I could see was a sea of red faces as all of humanity suppressed their urge to laugh.
"Um, I see. There's no need to play the rest. Can you pin point where the broadcast is coming from?" I asked curiously.
"We can and already have."
"Give me the coordinates, and I'll see that it the transmission is suspended."
"We appreciate that. Thank you. As a token of our appreciation, we'll leave you with this piece of our technology."
"What is it?" It looked like a two beer kegs supporting a disco ball.
"A learning module. We appreciate that your people are no strangers to love and while you understand the rules, I fear they escape us. However, since you are being so reasonable and willing to suspend the broadcast, then it is only right that we reciprocate the gesture." The large alien put its hands together and bowed respectfully before turning back to its space craft and boarding.
We watched as the saucer lifted off and shot into the sky like a falling star heading back into the heavens.
"Hey, fearless leader, what the hell did they leave us?" One of the shmucks that pushed me forward asked. This question was quickly echoed by the others as everyone rushed forward to surround the device.
"I dunno. Maybe it's a bomb," I reasoned. "They said it was a learning module, but who knows what it is."
"It has a button. Shouldn't we press it to see what it does?"
"Do you think that's smart," I asked the schmuck.
"So are we just going to ignore it?"
"We probably should." We destroyed our world. How much more damage could we do with the knowledge of higher lifeforms. "We elected me leader, so I've decided that this will be sealed away and never activated."
"I vote for a recall," the schmuck announced loudly. "Anyone second my motion."
"Aye," seventy some odd people voiced.
"The ayes have it. You've been ousted. I say we push the button," the schmuck called out. "Seconds?"
"Aye," the same seventy odd people cried back.
"The ayes have it." Before I could protest, the dumbshit pressed the button.
Immediately after, a hologram of the alien who just departed appeared above the device.
"Greetings people of Earth. It gladdens my people that you were brave enough to activate this learning module. It shows trust and a desire to learn.
"After having received your repeated transmissions over the past twenty solar cycles, we made the decision to visit with your leaders to discuss the nature of the transmission.
"We researched your worlds other transmissions to understand the nature of the transmission we were receiving in the deepest parts of the galaxy. The information resource, Pornhub, was particularly enlightening. We now understand that your transmission was a request for mating instruction.
"Contained within this module is all of the mating data we've collected on all of the species that we've encountered during our three hundred solar cycle journey. We too are no strangers to love, and as proof, we give you this module."
With that said, the alien's hologram disappeared and was immediately replaced by gruesome copulation of a few million alien lifeforms.
The worst part of this was that the information was being beamed directly into our minds with no way to shut it off.
We all shuddered in horror as *We're No Strangers to Love* began playing in the background on an endless loop.
It finally dawned on me why the alien referred to this as a learning module. We now have learned the consequences of Rick Rolling higher lifeforms, but that wasn't worst part.
The worst part was that for some odd reason, I had an erection.
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*No one anticipated this. Devastation, heartbreak, betrayal, and experiencing nothing after everything. It was a brutal feeling, like when you finally graduate from high school just to finally realize life was better when your future wasn't the present. I would lie there sometimes. At the school I use to go to, reminiscing when the world at least had color, but now color was only a shade of grey.*
"There's no more water in the pond. We have to move somewhere else again." My sympathetic wishes tangible in my mind. "I didn't think we'd only be here for 18 months after graduating... It's cruel you know?" I laughed to myself. "You were supposed to do great things. You had potential and I had only the drive to work and make sure your aspirations weren't in the grave when you started." I looked up from the pond that was there just the night before. "Isn't that right, Jessabelle?" I started to cry. One tear after another, I stood there looking at the grave of my fiancé. Radiation poisoning. It was the only thing we could count on to exist in this world. After the world's nations had bombed each other until not even a speck of civilization had lasted, smaller populations appeared in the tyranny. You would think many people would grieve for their loved ones, for their dreams, for their motives of a different world than what they woke up to, but sadly that wasn't the case today. We had reports of another raid starting off again later from inside sources.
"W-What. Where do we go? We already exhausted our options, no? I mean this is the 9th time we had our water source dry up. You can't live on the coast, because the radiation is focused there. Washing up from the sea and settling on the waves."
"I know. I know. You don't think I know that, but what does it matter anyways. There's nothing more for us to do other than to curl up in a hole somewhere and await the confusion of radiation poisoning to appear." I wiped the tears from my eyes and laid the dead stem of a rose flower on Jessebelle's grave. "It won't matter if the other guys try to raid our settlement anymore. We won't be here in 2 hours. Tell the others to start packing up and to take anything essential that won't bog their travel down." I strengthened my resolve. "Be prepared to walk for months if that's what it takes for us to find paradise in a world riddled with mistakes of our former selves." I took down the poster of Star Wars on the wall. It was just a blank sheet of slightly sturdy paper. There wasn't even an ink's worth of color or line work. It was all washed away from time and intense radio-activity found anywhere on the now sea-foam green planet. It's marbled blue hollowed away from decades of nuclear, electronic war. After the first 8 years of war, there was no such thing as Geneva's Convention. It was a concept that no longer existed. I was there when the first bomb was dropped on tv. Without skipping a beat, I grabbed my fiancé and ran as far away as possible from any city that was on a map. It was only a distant memory, but I remember her face when I told her we can't take our baby where we were going. She was furious, but she knew. She knew I was right, but she couldn't do it without betraying her moral values. That day, we both died. It didn't matter what city we were in, because we were both already dead.
"MY fucking feet hurt, dude." Michael said noticeably pissed. "I mean could you have at least told me that we would ACTUALLY be walking to paradise for 2 months now? I mean how many fucking miles of the United-Fucking-States-of-America do we have to-." He stopped himself. "I'm sorry. I'm just. I guess I'm still bewildered about everything despite how long it's been like this." He took a book out from his bag and began shredding pages. "You want a light?" He began rolling some cheap tobacco we copped from a dead corpse. "You know, it may not be the kind you're used to, but even something like this could be a good daily reset." He puffed on it like it wasn't a rare commodity.
"Agh, no. You know I have an addictive personality. I can't risk withdrawal symptoms in this world. More importantly where are the others, tell them it's clear already." He scoffed and began to put his fingers in his mouth. *Phwwwwwhht!* 1, 2, 3 seconds passed and 8 other people appeared from around the corner of an abandoned, destroyed building. "Come on, guys. Just a little farther for today and we can rest, check rations and see if there are any safe animals to hunt." It was quiet for a long time. No one made a sound besides the obvious crunching of leave debris, the scattering of rocks and gravel, and the occasional mutated bird. I don't even know where on the map we would be. I checked the slightly deteriorated map of the continental U.S. "You know we really lucked out that the old man from our last place kicked the can and left a shit ton of provisions and even this map that looks brand spanking new! The only problem is I don't know if we're in Wyoming or Colorado...." Just then, the colorless ground snapped a twig as if it were testing us. I looked around wide-eyed counting everyone we had to make sure it was one of us. I looked at Michael and he grabbed his water pipe and nodded as I grabbed a hockey stick I modified to be a suitable weapon in any place I could think of. Just then a low hum could be heard from above. It was almost like from a sci-fi book the way it sounded or even from Star Wars. Just then our youngest member, a 22 year old woman whom was a barista, stood in agonized horror.
"T-t-t-that. That's not real. That's not-" She stumbled and tripped creating more noise than we could've wanted. "What is that." She pointed as Michael and I met the gaze of an unfamiliar animal. It was tall, it's skin was... colored? What color was that? I don't even know, teal? It looked like the word, "ocean" before it turned it's radioactive green color. It had a pair of protruding eyes from it's head and covered in a thick mat of fur. It locked eyes with me. I froze in fear. Every instinct deep within me was telling me to fight it, to run, to fight it, to run. I wasn't sure which to do.
"T-Tom. What is that? No way that's a bear, right? Do they even exist still??" He tried to step forward, but he too was frozen in this uncanny petrification. It took a step forward. Bipedal. It could have been a heavily mutated monkey from a zoo it escaped or something. Then, it raised what I could only imagine to be it's finger and protruded light from it. In an alien tongue, it spoke perfect broken English.
"Leader. Where leader?" It put its finger down as the light stopped and we all saw in horror. All 10 of us saw an armada of floating, near invisible ships." "You. Safe. Watch, many months. Strong. Where Leader?" In a more demanding tone this time. My gut was wrenching in it's place. I took a step forward, albeit shakily.
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j5q9trq
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j5plyou
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[WP] As a Villain, one night, someone knocks on your door, you open it and there she is, the most famous invulnerable heroine of the city, completely drunk and with many bruises, as soon as you realize who she is, she passes out into you arms
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The knock was unexpected. I was always careful to keep my civilian and villainous lives separated, so this had to be someone knocking on my other life's door, not looking for Doctor Disaster. Unless I slipped up somewhere? Well, it was probably best to see who it was regardless...
Checking the camera startled me twice. First I saw her face. Not wearing masks isn't as big a deal with hiding your identity most of the time - there's all sorts of tricks to maintaining your secret identity without one, and some people never noticed. But the face was unmistakably that of Adamanta, the invulnerable heroine who had defended the city for ten years now. I had faced it many times before from behind her "diamond bubble" that she wore around her head. But the second shock was that she wasn't in costume. She wore a long coat and a short dress under it, and leaned against the wall next to my door, slurring a "Hello? Anyone home to - \*hic\* - help me?"
That was the third shock. She was drunk. The fact that she COULD be drunk wasn't a shocker. I'd known from past battles that she wasn't immune to toxins - her body could apparently process them better than most but poison was still a potential incapacitating agent. But WHY was she drunk?
I thought about it. I could just leave her there - or even better, call the cops, turn the tables on her and get her arrested.
But this was my house, and I wasn't just calling myself doctor. I may not keep my oath in the field, but right now I was in my own house, and she looked like she was in trouble. I sighed and steeled myself and opened the door. She looked up at me and didn't seem to recognize me; instead, she smiled and said, "Oh, thank you, before she collapsed into the doorway.
I made sure no one was watching and pulled her inside. As I did, I noticed the bruises. Her legs were battered, her fingers looked like they just finished healing from breaks, and the parts of her chest that showed over the dress' neckline were battered as well. How in the hell had THAT happened?
I carried her into my guest room - I wasn't super strong, but you pick up a few chemical tricks to even the odds - and set her on the bed I had made up in there. Once she was settled, I checked the coat pockets. Her ID was there, but I didn't look at it - it wasn't worth knowing, anyways. I refused to make it personal; that's when it gets personal for you, too. I did notice a receipt, though, from a bar around the corner. In fact, my house may have been the first one on my street with the lights on if she left the bar and wandered down it aimlessly.
Of course, the receipt pointed to a problem - she'd spent over a hundred dollars on drinks. Strong stuff, too - she wasn't drinking for flavor, but was getting what looked like the biggest bangs for her buck, in terms of how much alcohol each had. There were a few early on that were tastier, but by the end of the ticket, she was pounding back well tequila. That made me wonder something.
The other pocket held another secret that made me put the pieces together - a bottle of painkillers. I checked the first name against the name on the receipt for her credit card signature, and they matched, though I did my best not to learn it. This was for her, filed by a doctor at my hospital - and they were strong as well. But the bottle was down to two pills out of 90, despite being filled last week.
I had to think about it for a moment. Strong drinks... strong pills.... and the bruises. The bruises were too fresh to be what the painkillers were for. It could have been a suicide attempt with the pills... but she wasn't vomiting. Either her body didn't recognize the toxicity of what she'd taken, somehow, or it was processing it just fine. Given her response to the toxins I used, I suspected the latter - mine could be fatal, but I had to use concentrated doses to down her.
No... I suspected this was far, FAR more chronic. I was beginning to think there was more - or perhaps less - to her invulnerability than I thought.
While she slept, I sent a text message to a specific contact, then pulled out a laptop and logged into the hospital portal using a backdoor. I was violating HIPAA doing this, of course, but while I was a doctor, I was still a villain. And, in this case, I felt I owed Adamanta one. She wasn't a brutal cape, like some of the darker ones, and she did her best to get the hoods who needed help into programs to help them. I knew a few who had gone straight because of her help. That deserved at least this consideration, and since it was Doctor Disaster owing Adamanta a favor, I could break the law on her behalf. I meditated for a moment to avoid remembering her name as I typed it in - a trick to make sure no psychics could pull it out of me - and checked the records at the hospital to see when she'd visited and what notes there were.
It twisted my stomach to read.
She presented to the ER as a chronic pain sufferer. She'd used the excuse of being a stuntwoman to explain the bruises that remained, when he questioned them as signs of abuse. But the damage wasn't going away as fast over time. Nor was the pain. And he'd reached the point where he wasn't prescribing anything stronger. She had the insurance she carried override the pill limits to their maximum, but there wasn't much left - and it wasn't enough anymore.
I began to think. Hadn't she switched up her look a few years back? Went from Spandex to a lightly armored battle suit? I had thought it was for her image... but the timeline suggested something had changed. She was still durable... but she wasn't healing as fast. The pain lingered longer. And possibly, it ALWAYS hurt, even if it didn't break the skin or bruise her before... but now it was just getting worse.
That's why she wore the bubble. She was tough, but not really invincible. Her face would show the bruises far longer.
But she was suffering as well. Painkillers and alcohol... a damnable addiction, even if her body could handle it. (con't)
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I go to sleep alone on a Friday night.
It's nothing special anymore. Honestly, I've kind of gotten used to it. Looking out the window, hearing the muted sounds of cars stuck in a traffic jam at 11:30, hoping to get home soon enough that they can get up in the morning without an alarm. The sky is a nonexistent blank void, all the stars shrouded by the lights that are on, 24/7, as the light in the city blinds us to what's above. My room is dark, but I know where everything is. The small dresser where I keep my underwear and socks is close to empty. I need to get over to the laundromat tomorrow. My closet is filled with sweatshirts, graphic tees, and denim jeans, with a couple of Eagles jerseys in there for when a game's on and we wanna party. My bed, still covered in a massive Pikachu bedspread from when I was little, is starting to get a little old. My desk still has my laptop, an old Chromebook that I got in middle school. Its fan humming incessantly, my Chromebook gives me a weird sense of stability. I don't have to think my own thoughts, or listen to music to fall asleep. That fan is enough to that for me. The carpet is fluffy, though there are a couple stains from when I was younger. On the wall, a couple superhero posters from when I was little. Some of them from comic books, other ones from real life. Surge The Dark Horse screams out in rage on my door, though he's mostly covered by a shower robe. Right behind me, Queen Bee glares menacingly, claws like the mythical vibranium that laces the other claws right next to me, on Black Panther. They're both icons, people I've wanted to meet since I was little. Unfortunately, I doubt the chance will ever come.
I go to sleep alone on a Friday night.
Mom works night shift. I've seen her job as a TSA agent before. She's up there, standing, checking the bags of people who aren't terrorists, having to treat every single person with just a slight ounce of hostility, just in case. Dad's never around, so she's the one providing us with the money these days. She promised me a new computer when I graduate. I just want her to make rent. She's strong, both physically and emotionally. I just want her to be happy.
Dad isn't around anymore. Died in a car accident with some drunk fucker who thought that street racing down 4th Avenue would be funny. I never knew him much, though. Lucky he died when I was young, only 1 or 2. Still, I miss him lots. Prefer not to talk about him. Poor Jack did his best to fill the hole that caused for me, but only being a couple years older meant that he never really knew what to do until I was too old to take any actual advice from him. I know he cares about me, I do. It's just that, well, I feel mature enough, now. I feel ready to leave the nest. He's at college, now. On the other side of the nation, UC Berkley. If I'm being honest, I miss him a lot. It's lonely here without his presence.
I've got friends that can help with that, at least. Mariana and I have been besties since, god, 3rd grade, I think? I don't really know, however long it takes for kids to realize that they want to go to college together, or whatever. Plus, it would help out with our dream of starting a band together. She's already got the drum part down, and Jack got me into guitar and singing. Just need a third, and we'd be on our way. I've got loads of other friends, too. Lulu, Alexis, Ryan, Tracy, and the rest of the gang all live within a few blocks of me, and my place is normally The Spot To Have Sleepovers, as long as Ryan and Tracy keep their hands off each other. Blech.
The fan isn't doing it tonight. The sounds of someone fighting only a couple blocks away came through loud and clear, the sounds of wind rushing around the magic-proofed skyscrapers that dotted the city left and right. The clash of what sounded like lots of guns hitting something very metallic left ringing, even if it was muted. I couldn't fall asleep like this.
With a bit of frustration, I slowly get out of bed, and stretch, reaching for my phone.
"11:45?" I grumble to myself. "Fucking A, man."
I slowly open up TikTok, and just swipe through annoying people, giving bad takes, as the algorithm fails to show me anything interesting.
I fail to go to sleep alone on a Friday night.
Eventually, I decide that enough is enough, and just get out of bed entirely. If this fight isn't going to end any time soon, I might as well get something done.
I open up my Chromebook, and slowly wait as it loads the still incomplete research paper on The Communist Manifesto that I had decided to choose as my research topic. Lulu had offered to finish it for me, but my part time job absolutely didn't give me $50 to spend on papers that really weren't even that hard. I slowly reopen the rest of the tabs from the search history, and get back to writing the 3rd of a 5 page analysis.
Using the fight as background music, which as I looked out the window, was obviously Queen Bee- normally her fights didn't last this long- I started to get back into the groove of using the notes I'd taken form other online sources to finish up the argument I had about The Communist Manifesto. Slowly, but surely, though my phone buzzed as the clock struck midnight, I got my paper finished.
As I go through the process of editing, making sure that everything is good for submission next Tuesday, immediately, I recognize that something's, well, something's off. Not like before. Quickly, I shuffle through everything it could have been. Is it the light? I flick the lamp next to me on and off again, before realizing that nope, the bulb isn't dying. The paper? Not really. All the tabs I used last time are there. Steam and Discord haven't randomly updated for no good reason. Everything seems to be fine. Is it my music? No, my phone hasn't been running for a while, I've just bee-
The fight's stopped.
Finally, the fight's stopped.
I take a peek outside my window, and glance down at the lit up streets below. Small spats of blood seem to be on the ground, or at least, small from where I'm at, 25 floors up. The fact that I can see them probably means that they're not as small as I think they are.
I hop back to my phone, and see that, thankfully, none of the gang are up chatting about it. They're probably either gaming or asleep. Best to guess the latter.
Still, with a sense of satisfaction that I'd gotten something done, I head back to bed, the fan of my dirty ol' Chromebook still running like crazy, and bid myself a good n-
*CLICK CLACK*
I jolt up out of bed. Quickly, I head to the door, and grab the small pocket knife that mom taught me to use whenever someone suspicious is at the door. I open up the emergency phone on my cell, and hover one finger over the 9.
What sounds like gargling and coughing comes from the opposite end of the door.
Quickly, I peek through the pinhole to see who's on the other side, with my phone ready.
Queen Bee is on the other side of the door, battered and bruised, and coughing up blood.
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[WP] You once saved a Crow from dying as a child. Even now that you are an adult, you still remember the Crow's words after you set it free back to its murder, "We... wiLL... RETurN... ThE... FAVor..."
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"jUst... ASK... ALreadY..."
The crow had been sitting on my shoulder for close to a week. I'd shoo it away, and it would yell at me from a nearby branch for a bit before settling back down over the small holes worn in my jacket. This tended to draw stares at the café where I'd been brooding all week. I think the bird was the child, or grandchild of the crow I'd saved from the woodchipper that Autumn day so many years ago.
"bEEn... in... yOur... dEBt... THREE... GenERaTIOns..." rasped the crow, "ASK... hIM... NoW... Or... I... Peck... eYEs... oUT...."
"You're supposed to save my life or something," I hissed at the crow, "Not set me up with some guy I don't even know."
"nO... neAR... DeaTH... ExPerIEnce... laTEly..." said the crow, "nOt... mY... fAUlt... yOU're... sUCh.. a.. cOwa--"
"Shh!" I interrupted, "He's coming back."
Tully had these auburn curls that bounced when he walked. Tully was lanky, in that gangly-young way he still hadn't lost to his twenties. Tully wrinkled his nose when he laughed, which he did with nearly every customer. He worked at the flower stand across from the café. I think I liked not talking to Tully best of all. Nothing can go wrong when you don't talk. It's when you open your mouth that the problems start.
"eNOUGH..." cried the crow, and took off across the street, its carrion-wings rasping hideously against the air.
Tully dropped the broom he had been using to tidy the sidewalk. He doubled over, shielding his face against the mad swoops of the attacking crow. He elbowed over a vase of peonies. Sunflowers scattered as he stumbled into the flower cart. Blood spattered on a bouquet of white roses.
Blood. The bird was drawing blood. I ran across the street, a gray sedan nearly flattening me as I did. "Get away!" I yelled at the bird, who redoubled its attack. I seized a sunflower from the sidewalk and swung it into the attacking animal. The crow let out a caw, and flew off to roost on a powerline overhead.
"I'm so sorry," I said to Tully. His face was badly gashed across the brows and cheekbones.
"Sorry?" he said, wiping away blood. "You just saved me." He looked me up and down. "You're the girl who watches me from the coffeeshop every day, right? I think I owe you one."
"No!" I almost shouted. "God, no. Nobody owes anybody anything." I turned upwards, to the crow still watching from the powerlines, and this time I did shout: "NOBODY OWES ANYBODY ANYTHING!"
The crow took off over the rooftops, the powerline vibrating in its wake.
Tully laughed. "You're really strange. But, maybe dinner, at least?"
"Dinner sounds great. Maybe somewhere indoors."
We laughed together this time, although I knew it wasn't a joke. I really didn't want to see that crow again.
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\[TW: Child endangerment\]
The revolver feels heavy in your hand. You try to raise it, but the pain in your shoulder replies with an emphatic, *'No'* and you stumble backwards against the police cruiser, still protruding through the warehouse door where you rammed it. You try to breath but it comes out raspy and wet, too much blood in the airway. It's ok. The cough clears what looks like a juice box full all over your shirt and trench coat, now wrapped around you as you stumbled back. Juice box... Like the one Tommy had that morning... Jesus... Has it only been a day?
Your mind wanders to that morning. The kidnappers broke in, all ski masks and sub machine guns, just like in the movies. Your spouse of 10 years didn't even have time to react, shot right between the eyes as they opened the front door. Grabbing Tommy, you bolted right through the sliding glass door, just like you did that time on the 4th of July when he was just a baby... But you didn't get far. Three of them were waiting with taser sticks, and you went down hard.
"Kill them, and you get your kid back." Followed by a list of names -- the heads of Philadelphia's Five Families -- the most well financed, well protected, and well connected mob bosses outside of the Bronx. And at the bottom? "You have 24 hours." What followed was a nightmare of blood, bullets, and bombs. All the time working Undercover before working SWAT paid off, huh?
You cough up some more blood, but you know this stuff was in your lungs, because it's getting a lot harder to breathe.
"Jesus fookin' Christ, you just won't stay dead, uh?" That voice... You know that voice. You try to wipe the blood away from your eyes, but there's no use, your hands are covered in it. You killed north of 300 people today, of course they're covered in it. But as he gets closer, you manage to make out the embroidery on that stupid white sport coat.
"Sully Figarola. B-B-B-acgh!" More blood.
"Big Sully, baby..." He replies with a smile, holding the 'e' at the end. "In the flesh, one night only."
Your mind whirls at the reveal. You were so certain it was the ruskie. "The fuck you doing out-"
"Yeah, I know, I know. What's a kid from the Bronx doin' in the city of brotherly love, ehh? What can I say," He smiles, somehow wider as he tries to play some bravado for the boys, "I like cheesesteaks." This time holding the 'eese', and getting a laugh from his goons.
Was it really going to end like this? "Where's T-T-T-"
Figarola lurches his head back, offended. "'scuse me? The fuck-- This fuckin' flatfoot, the fuckin' stones on... You try to come after me, in direct con-tre-vention of our deal," He pantomimes, really getting into his rhythm, "and you got the nerve to--"
"Didn't... I didn't..." God it just hurts so much now. "I didn't know... it was you..."
"Oh, and if you did, you'dda honored your deal? Would you listen to this shmuck?" The goons laugh, falling over themselves. You're reminded of the bully's friends... Like you're there now. All of them, gathered around buddying up to Kyle Drisdale... Fucking tools, all of them. Those stupid fake laughs and the--
"Acgh!" This one's bad. This one's bad because you can't lift your arm to your chest anymore.
"But you know what, Flatfoot?" Figarola asks, raising his hands calling for a moment of silence before grabbing the lapels of his jacket. "Even if you're not a *~~^(garglfu)~~* of your word, I'm a man of mine." Shit... Your hearing is going too. "The kid'll be fine... Promise... I'll make him my butler." This laugh is the biggest of all. Real guffaws from everyone, a couple of them even grabbing Sully around the arms and shoulders as their laughs become a shitty symphony of mother fu--
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[WP] You realized your house is "haunted" by a poltergeist, but upon closer observation the ghost is actually helping you out with your day-to-day house chores
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Weasel #35 waddles into the room just as I finish my cotton candy.
"My lord, my jester I mean... I have news about your son."
I sit up in my chair. "Yes, today marks his first villain anniversary, right? Thank you, 35, I had forgotten." I open my chair to enter my son's house across the world, but a paw on my shoulder stops me.
35 looks absolutely terrified as I turn my head. "Sir, you won't be able to find your son there."
I sigh in relief. "Oh thank goodness. 35, you had me convinced something has happened to my son. He must be out doing his 'real villain' stuff right now, I'll pop in later."
I close the chair and sit back down, but 35 still holds his expression. "well..." he squeaks out at last. "Something has happened to your son. You see... the Junior league killed him."
Fury shoots up like a Jack-in-the-box inside of me. "The juniors KILLED HIM?!" my mind is wobbling like a slinky. The Junior League never kill! Even against Jack Jr., they shouldn't have resorted to that! I know us Chesters are hard to pin down, but this? I slam the chair open again. This time it opens to the hideout of the Juniors. 35 protests weakly, but I cut him off by closing the wall I just stepped out of.
Silently, I stalk towards the main room of the hideout. I've been here many times, mostly to set up pie-in-the-face traps, so I know the way through the annoyingly dusty halls of the Junior League HQ. I only get a few steps towards the first corner when a very shiny person walks by.
The star of the Heroic World, Light Muscleboy, stands before me. For a guy so easy to spook, he looks fearless as he stares me down. Muscleboy holds up a hand. "Listen, Jack. It was an accident. There is no need to do what you are about to do."
"An accident?" I spit, taking a step closer. "The death of my son was an accident? That excuse holds up as well as your relationships, Light, and you know it."
I take another step. The Shining Knight seems to falter slightly. Expected, but still a little disappointed. "Jack, they do not know your powers. They expect you to, I don't know, put weasels in their bed, or gum in their hair. They don't know, Jack!" Muscleboy's voice shakes a little on the last sentence.
I'm so close I can smell his disgustingly minty breath. "Listen to me, Light." I poke his chestplate and slinky starts to wrap around him. "You know what \*I\* didn't expect? I didn't expect to lose my ONLY SON TODAY!"
The slinky has rendered the Knight immobile except for tremors of fear. "They are someone's sons too. Please."
I tap his chest again and he falls over. "Then those parents will be in for a..." I giggle as the thought comes to me. "\*Surprise.\*"
I turn and open the wall, walking straight into the main room. Five kids stand before me, and all have defiant eyes as they turn to look me in the face. A blonde kid points at me. "Jack Chester, you die here." A threat of death? They must have changed their no kill policy. I shrug off the thought, I'll deal with it later. Right now all that matters is this moment.
I glance at each of them, looking down at them through my nose. "Alright, pipe up. Who killed my son?" as soon as I finish asking the question, I start the timer in my head. \*All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel.\*
Everyone looks at some short kid on a couch by himself. He's clad in blue, hood concealing his face. He lazily raises a hand. \*the monkey paused to pull up his sock.\* "Yeah." The kid says in an infuriatingly uninterested tone. "It was me."
Behind my back, I point a gun at the wall behind me. "Let this be a lesson to you kids." The blue hero makes a choking sound and slumps over, a piece of candy corn portruding from the back of his head. \*POP! goes the weasel.\*
The 4 remaining supers step back from me. One rushes over to the blue kid, seemingly ignoring that I dropped through the floor onto the couch. His hands glow green, but when nothing happens he looks frantically to the others. "I can't heal him!"
A healer, eh? I laugh, the sound drawing the teens' eyes. "So you can only heal people? That means you had nothing to do with my son's death." The kid stares at me. "Right?" I growl. He frantically nods, scooting ever so slightly away from me.
I clasp my hands like I'm closing a deal. "Sweet. You can live to tell the Hero Council about what's about to happen." I stand and open all the walls, turning the room into an infinite void.
All furniture disappears, leaving just me, the remaining 4 heroes, and the corpse of the blue one. The blonde kid adjusts fast, slinging some sort of golden cord at me. I'm instantly behind him though, sticking a piece of gum to his chin. I teleport again, yanking on the gum. His neck snaps and he stops moving. The healer screams, a shrill sound not unlike a rusty crank on a wind up toy. A kid in all red twists his body to look at his mate, then the healer, then me. "Where are we? What do we do?" He asks frantically.
I straighten my polka dotted tie. "You can't do anything. I can teleport through walls, and I have made this whole room my infinite wall. This is my masterpiece. This is Jack's box.
I gum the kid like i did the blondie but he doesnt die when i yank his neck. Oh boy, he's like taffy! I manipulate the room so that I am on both sides of him, and pull him until he becomes as thin as licorice. I take the boy-cord and use it to strangle the last one, who has been frozen this entire time. I knot the cord and bring the room back to normal.
The healer is crying now, bawling his face off. I kneel down in front of him, my rage fading. "Go tell the council now, boy. And make sure my son's funeral is on every channel."
I teleport back to my chair, where 35 is still nibbling his claws. He hands me a cotton candy, but my tears ruin the whole thing.
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I stared out the window thinking about my son for hours. The hours flowed by and the life seemed to drain out of me as the time rolled on. I had so many dreams for him, so many ambitions. Though I knew that I would never be a perfect father, I wanted to love him for the rest of my life. Really, all I ever wanted for him was happiness, and now that was snuffed out.
Throughout my life, I had never once felt hatred. I had not liked people, and therefore I would prank them to get even. But now, something had changed inside me entirely. Not many people knew how much I had held myself back except Hix. Hix was the only hero in the world I held some respect for, and though I would still pull my antics on him, I ensured that it was never anything too serious.
Now, in the midst of my son's death, he was the only one beside me. Maybe he was a friend, maybe he was just there because his role called for it, I didn't care. He looked over at me and kept quiet for a while but then finally spoke up.
"Well, I am sure you have some nasty prank up your sleeve, right Jinx?"
"No. This is different. A prank would be glossing over it like it didn't happen. They knew my son was weaker than them and only wanted to be friends with them. Yet still, now he's dead and it's all their fault."
"They're just kids, Jinx. They made it a poor decision and it got him killed."
"Poor decision? You call setting him for the "greatest prank ever" and then running him over with a car is just a poor decision?! It's intentional homicide."
"We don't know tha - "
"I do. I know it for sure and there's nothing you can do to change my mind."
Nix sighed and stared at me for a moment.
"So what will you do? Kill them to get even?"
"No, and you know that's not my style."
"Ok, but I know you're planning something, so what will you do?"
"I am going to do *The Prank.*"
"You wouldn't. Even I know that's too far out of character for you."
"You know that I have already made up my mind right, nix?"
"Yeah Jinx, I do. Well look, your grieving and decisions after have nothing to do with me, so I am gonna go and pretend that this isn't gonna happen."
Before I had a chance to respond, he was gone. My only close ally was gone and so was my son. But, I didn't care. I had to get even.
The prank was the ultimate role reversal that I had devised and never executed on because I knew the irreparable harm it would cause to my reputation, and I was never in the mindset to do it. Today though, everything changed. Pranks to me are really just an insecure way to jest at someone with actions instead of words. While most of mine were harmless, some did cause harm. The Prank however, was a whole different level. It involved a combination of actions and psychological techniques to leave the victims trapped in it forever.
\---
I watched the teens for days on end, mapping their every move. I learned about their mannerisms and habits that could be used as weak points and soon I knew everything that I needed to know. Since they were all boys, I knew that they would be ruthless if physicality came into the picture, so I had to be careful. Then, I began my revenge. I made a costume based on the female character of the show that they loved to watch and even found a way to virtually change my appearance on the outside for a time. When I was done, I looked perfect.
I walked past the teens on their way home from school and pretended to drop something in front of them. They all stumbled over themselves to pick up my stuff and sneak peeks at my body. Excellent.
"Oh, sorry boys, I can be really clumsy."
"No, no, no. Every girl needs help sometimes miss. All of us are heros too, so we can help."
"Ok, then could you please escort me home? I think someone might be following me."
With a little too much eagerness, they huddled around me and took me home. I spent that time confirming all of my research and was astounded at how easy they were to predict. Once we got to the bogus address that I had given them, I gave each of them a kiss on the cheek and left.
The next day, I found one of them walking to school (at the time before he met up with his friends) and talked to him. I told him that he was my favorite of the bunch and that he should come on a date with me that night. Later that evening, I went on a fake date with him and got all the details of his other friends that I needed.
They were apparently an arrogant bunch and not surprisingly, there was animosity towards one another already about me. With that information, I then started the other part of my revenge. I hand wrote love letters to each of them from me, and talked bad about each one of the other guys. I then asked if they could all meet me the next day at the same place.
I watched them walk home that night and they were already arguing. It was glorious. They were angry at the hurtful jabs that I had taken at each of them in their letters and they even fought for a bit. This was going perfectly.
The next day, I met them in person with a picture of my son in my hands. I looked sad and dejected and asked who he was. You could see their faces get somewhat sad but then they remarked that my son was some idiot that they took care of. Apparently they believed that he had not deserved to live given that he was a son of a villain. I felt my rage well up inside, but I contained it.
"Ok. But how did you kill him? Whoever tells me first might get a do over with me."
I said that while using the nicest voice I could and while pushing up my chest. Finally, one spilled the beans and the others corroborated the story.
They hated my son more than anyone. So, they tricked him into trying a new prank where he could deflect their powers while under a car and hurt them instead. From there, they borrowed one of mom's cars and ran him over 8 times. They all seemed to smile far too much about it. It was grim and horrible.
That's when I finally looked at them with my evil grin and they stood in terror. They could feel the change in my behavior.
"That's horrible, and you should not only feel bad, but realize that you have become the villains yourselves. Because of this, I have already alerted the authorities and uploaded this confession to your school's social media page. Everyone will know what you have done, and you cannot run from it. May these scars burn in your mind forever as you become cursed to never to be heroes again!" I quickly turned off my disguise and they looked at me in horror.
As I heard the sirens blare in the background, I threw my signature smoke bomb and vanished. Though I never wanted to be the hero of a story, my son was worth losing every ounce of my villain dignity in doing this. I miss you buddy.
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[WP] you have the odd ability of "idle stockpile" which means that if you havent performed a certain action for longer, the more easy or powerful is the next time you perform the action. You just threw your first punch in 10 years.
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I had not thrown a punch in years, but now I had, and a man was dead because of it. More than dead, unrecognizable. Half of him, the lower bits, now a pile of stringy red goo and bones on a bar floor. The upper half had flown up, leaving a neat hole in the bars wood ceiling, then travelled further up still, into the sky until parting the clouds.
The bar cleared fast after that. The patrons screaming in terror as they ran for the doors, tripping over one another. Ignorant to the fact that I couldn't do that again even if I tried.
Ironically the only reason I'd been able to perform such a feat is because I hadn't in so long. My punch I threw was proof enough of that. It was clunky, undisciplined, and quite frankly had left my hand in a great deal of pain. But nobody in the bar noticed that. They only cared that a man had exploded, which was fair enough I suppose.
I looked down to my fist and blew a bit of charred blood from my knuckle. *Stockpile* I thought back to the word that had been used to describe my condition.
"Ah! He's a stockpiler alright! Rare too! Most with his condition have to do *something* to build their power up over time. But him? All he has to do is sit!" That's what the first specialist had said to me and my mother in that office. I wish at the time he'd told me what a curse my condition truly was.
Well if I hadn't learned it then, then surely I had now. Standing alone.with a bloodied pile of my own making before me, forced to face my own doing. The hole in the ceiling letting in a cold winter breeze. In all honesty I don't even remember why I'd hit him. But I guess that was the least of what mattered now.
I felt my throat tense up, grow tight as I held back stupid, sorry tears. This man, he could have been anybody. Had a family, friends surely, someone who loved him. And I'd reduced all of that to a bloodied pile. Unable to hold back any longer my tears fell in a flood onto the floor. I had not realized how long it'd been since I last cried, but the storm that fell from my face reminded me.
His body made me want to die. Maybe I deserved to.
The bar doors dinged open and a face poked in the doorway, snapping me suddenly from my mopy state. It looked down to the pile, then me, then back down to the pile again, each time its eyes growing wider. Finally it stared to my eyes.
"You- you killed him!", the face accused.
"I didn't mean to. I swear I just-"
My words were cut short as he withdrew something rigid and metallic from his belt, pointing it to me. I looked to him, frozen on a single thought. The thought I had before I'd punched the man that was now but a pile at my feet. The thought I'd had a hundred times before that had led to countless deaths at my hands. Accidental, but the thought still lingered like a sickness.
*When was the last time that I...?*
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I can't remember how that punch felt. Everything shattered the moment he did, forming a million mirror edges to reflect back at me the terrible thing I was. After it happened, a tsunami of shame crashed over me, drowning me in an ocean of tears. The waves of guilt felt like they would never cease.
An off-duty cop apprehended me right away, holding me until the on-duty ones could arrive to put me in cuffs. The next day they charged me with manslaughter. My lawyer said I was looking at 10-15 years in the state pen. I couldn't help but nod through it all, the real consequences of my actions far easier to handle than my internal ones.
My mind wandered as I sat rotting in county jail, my body in the fetal position. The seven other inmates in the cell made a habit of spitting on me to show they were alpha. I wish I'd saved the punch for one of them, it'd have been a sight to behold. I'd have been willing to bet that not a single one of them had a conscience, that they couldn't have possibly understood the remorse I felt. I wondered how humans could have so little empathy. In a weird way, it felt good to think I was no better than they were.
Sometimes I'd try to tell myself that it was a mistake, that I couldn't have possibly known that the punch would turn its target into pieces. But it was a lie. Deep down inside I knew what the punch would do and I threw it anyways. It made it worse to think I'd failed Harriet, who once told me to treasure the gift as she passed it on to me. I wondered where she was. Up amongst the heavens? Maybe she had been looking down upon me, her head shaking in shame that she'd passed her most precious ability on to a loser.
"Idle stockpile," she called it. "The power to save your energy and expend it in one big burst. To gain this ability, you must practice a consistent lifestyle of self-denial." Gaining the power required that I fast, sometimes for as long as a week. During other times I went with little sleep, performing arduous physical labor almost twenty-four hours a day. There was even a time when I was forced to study in the library for six months straight. When I was finished I'd done well enough to receive the power, which she passed on to me in the middle of the gym one night.
*If only she hadn't*, I thought. Again and again, until the day it all changed suddenly.
My escape from jail that day was purely by accident. The guard called my name from the door, which was slightly ajar. I hadn't moved in so long that I ended up flying towards him at lightning speed, unable to stop until I was through the door and ten feet past him down the hallway. He looked at me agape, and I decided that I couldn't spend another moment in that cell. I ended up running twelve miles in a matter of a few minutes before I stopped at a bench in the middle of the park, too exhausted to move another inch.
I sat down and studied the grass with wonder. How could it be that just ten minutes ago I sat on the hard bed of a cell, but now I was free? It seemed senseless, like a lot of this life. It was then that I realized that I didn't deserve the power that Harriet had passed on to me, but I had the power to earn it. I realized I had a choice - to let my actions in the bar that night define me as a victim of my own ability or to rise up and master it. I figured that if I could save one life, it would make up for the one I accidentally took. If I could save two lives, then I was all the better for this world.
You don't see me often. I spend many months in my cocoon preserving my power, but when you do, I'm fighting crime and restoring balance to the world. I can't calculate how many lives I've saved since that day.
I'm Dr. Burstidle.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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ja72j8g
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ja6xmf3
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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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Obligatory I’m on mobile.
If you asked any outsider or basic acquaintance about our group they would all tell you the same story. Beth was the mother of the group with kind eyes and the stereotypical anime mother side-ponytail that quite frankly worried us all. Eden was the natural leader of the group who’s optimistic attitude made us all overlook how incredibly and quite frankly debilitatingly dumb he was. Lils was your stereotypical girl next door vying for Eden’s affection despite his obvious crush on Beth. Dylan was the sweet and soft spoken bookworm who had the hots for Lils but could never muster up the courage to do anything about it. Finally… there was Daisy. Daisy was eccentric to put it nicely. She was optimistic but had little to no faith in mankind. Her interests changed on a daily basis whether it’s taxidermy or baking. She gave the best advice but never followed it herself even to her own detriment. She was the happiest person you’d ever meet but also debilitatingly depressed. Which is why it shocked but did not surprise any of her friends with the form she chose.
“Be not afraid.”
“Daisy… are you fucking serious?” Lils said through labored breathing trying desperately to calm her heart.
The entity sighed “Cmoooon guys I said ‘Be not afraid’ I thought you’d be chill with itttt~”
Beth who was attending to the incapacitated Dylan let out an annoyed shriek “DID THAT EVER WORK FOR THE ANGELS IN THE OLD TESTAMENT DAISY?!”
“Be not mad?” Daisy said hopefully.
Eden and Lils struggled to hold Beth back for a good five minutes before she gave up.
……
“So like… can I be in charge of interrogations?”
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"My Lord, I have no clue who these mortals are. Why are they-"
"*These four mortals are the key to saving my Realm!*" the King of the Amethyst Court bellowed. "They seem to know you, so you better get them comfortable with their new role as Protectors of this land! Oh, and don't out yourself as an Amethyst Courtier to these mortals."
I bowed slightly. "Of course, My Lord. But mortals? Truly?"
"Yes. Now go, before I send you to that one part of my Realm that you recently got for me. You know, the one that the thermostat is broken?"
"Right away."
~*~*~*~*~
I looked at the mortals, shaking my head slightly. Fragile beings. I still do not understand why my Lord chose these weaklings to save these lands. The war that the Crimson Queen began with Znanel is an immortal matter, to be dealt with the Blood-Knights and the Knower-Keepers.
"Wow, Isoth! You got to talk face-to-face with the god of this place?" a sad looking girl with her hair dyed a powder blue walked up to me. Marienne, I think her name is.
A young man with mousey brown hair was the next to bombard me with his energy. "What did he say? I know we are meant to save this realm but-"
"SILENCE, FOOL!" my voice shook crystalline purple leaves off of the tree. "We are all to choose how we want to look in this realm. Man, Mer, Beast, Manbeast, Mermanbeast, whatever. Just choose, and choose quickly. The forces of Znanel are upon us."
Another young man, but with short blond hair, looked up from his book. "Wood elf."
Immediately, he grew shorter, his features turning more angular and wood-tinged.
Marienne was in awe. "Silas, who knew you would look so good like that!"
The mouse haired male jumped up and down. "Can I be Mousefolk?"
Much like how Silas became as he is now, so did this male.
"Way to go, Benji," the last mortal clapped slowly. "Way to out yourself."
Benji pouted. "What about you, Myata? What will you be?
Myata looked up at the sky. "Make me into a powerful warrior. With a sword. I like swords a lot."
"A mortal after my own heart," I smiled as the androgynous form became their desired self. "Now, Marienne, what do you want to be?"
"I liked Myata's idea. Something like that?" Her transformation started. "Only less swords, and more magic, please."
Benji twitched his ears in my direction. "Isoth, what about you? What will you be?"
"In my fucking armor is what I'll be," I started marching southwards towards my domicile. "And that's what you lot had better start considering, too. Light, medium, or heavy. Or unarmored and let your guts feed the wildlife for all I care."
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joompow
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jooj6ui
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[WP] You failed as a superhero. You let a known supervillain go to save a hostage he held, and he ended up causing devastation to what you loved. Live lost, your significant other's parent dead, and crumbled building left in ruins. No one blamed you for it, but you did. Enough was enough.
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I expected fire and brimstone hell, I didn't expect a cool room inside of what looked like a fairly standard office. The room wasn't small, nor was it large. It was perfectly comfortable, with a standard desk, standard bookshelves lined with ledgers, standard chairs, and standard rug.
It was the platonic ideal of an accountant's office.
The being sat at the desk was a different thing entirely. They wore a black three-piece suit and a red tie, pens inside of a protected pocket peeked out, waiting for any and all contracts to be signed- one was in regular ink, the other was enchanted to take blood directly from the signer's veins.
An otherwise human body was adorned by a flaming metal skull, one that bore a fanged snarl that only seemed tame compared to the surroundings, as well as clawed metal hands.
"Have a seat." The Demon spoke, gesturing across the desk toward the chairs between us. I approached and sat down. I was told to arrive in casual wear, and to bring nothing that could be considered collateral. He presented a contract. "Read this thoroughly, you are allowed to make any and all alterations you deem necessary. If you can adjust this contract such that the terms are met without consigning your soul to me, you will have passed, and clearly do not need my expertise."
I red through the contract, everything was solid, it was as benign as a soul-stealing contract could be. I took a pen and experimentally wrote in a clause that granted me the right to cancel the contract without giving my soul away, another clause appeared indicating that doing so would forfeit my passing grade.
"Clever." He remarked. "For every nudge, a push."
"Can I remove a clause I've written?" I asked.
"You may." He replied, his flames flaring brighter for a moment.
I wrote a clause that would allow me to keep my soul, another popped up that required me to undergo the process of demonification. I wrote a clause allowing me the opportunity to come out without becoming a Demon, and to my surprise, all that came of that was a simple clause.
\[The contractee must agree to commit one sinful act per day.\]
I wrote another clause to necessitate the Demon explain the significance of this, and received another that indicated I must call him 'Master'.
"Have you finished?" He asked. I signed the contract. "Excellent. Sin is required for the process of demonification. Is this understood?"
"Yes, Master." I replied.
He stood up. "Excellent. Take one of my flames and consume it, if you go an entire year without sinning, it will snuff out. Once per day, it will consume one sin, if you accumulate one thousand sins, you will become a full-fledged Demon. Regardless, you will become an excellent accountant."
One of the flames from his head flew toward me, settling in my palm, and I put it in my mouth before swallowing. I watched in shock as his suit flew from his body, which seemed to have another materialize around him, before my clothes were unceremoniously shredded and the suit put itself on me.
A quick tug on it showed it was firmly adhered to my body, not that I particularly wanted to part with it.
"Hellweave." He spoke. "It comes off just as easily as your own flesh. It will keep you clean and presentable at all times, and no, it will never come off, so if you leave, you will at least be sharply dressed. Do you like your new uniform?"
"Yes, Master." I replied.
"Excellent. Speak a casual blasphemy for me."
"Uhh... Holy shit?"
I felt a rush of euphoria hit me, for a moment, all I could do was simply grin as pleasure rocked my body. If it wasn't for the fact that a single metal claw had manifested around my pinky finger, I might have indulged myself more.
"Excellent. your requirement settled, we will begin your training. Please understand, I will do everything in my power to make you one of my kind."
The first lesson was a whirlwind, by the end of my first day, I had sinned no less than ten times, and that was just doing what I normally did. With 730 days total, I began to wonder if maybe I had made a huge mistake.
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My exhausted eyes gazed across the various spreadsheets and reports, my body, mind and soul struggling to survive. "Good job on the graphs but, I would recommend decimal points for some of these line graphs," my mentor said, in what felt like a million words a minute, just barely containing an excited bellow, "I almost always go with point fives when I'm looking at anything macro, like annual revenue, broad trends, that sort of thing. But, for specific data or small operations like yourself I always go with point ones. Once you need really precise information I'll get you analysts who'll do each point in hundredths, because by then you'll be big enough that you'll only concern yourself with the macro side of things, okay." The infernal being only took a break from his torture to inhale his cigar.
As I sat in the human leather chair I thought about what I must have done to deserve this. My body desperately lathered my entire body in sweat as I wore my maroon suit within the sweltering conditions of a cooled indoor office. "You're only worth a million and thus still proving yourself in the market, you've got to look like someone worth investing in, after that you can be as ugly as you want to be," my mentor joked two days ago as I worried about heat exhaustion.
Why did I get this mentor? Kiearra got to study magic with the elves in Valenwood, which makes sense considering she's probably more intelligent than the elves she'll be studying from.
Kandor is out fighting and hunting with the tundra orcs like the tough bastard he is.
And of course, Marquirouis, the firstborn prince and heir to the throne is being mentored by the ancient dragon Greldesglean.
For the next two years we'd all have to learn from our mentors who were hand selected by the academy, apparently I was the first person in academy history to learn business and accounting, nevertheless in the fiery infernal knot with a devil.
My mentor, Byleth, wore his silken three piece pinstriped crimson three piece suit. His skin, blood red was pockmarked with various horn growths until it crescendo into a multitude of interweaving ram's horns across his head and face.
However, the most overpowering thing about Byleth was his character. The fact that his forked tongue could effortlessly belt out a thousand lies before he needed to take a breath. The same tongue was also used to the absurd amount of cigars and absinthe he consumed, like an engine fueled by nothing but vice.
"-Now, I can see that one of your blood vessels is going to pop so its time for one of my most important lessons of all," he remarked with a strange relative slowness as he realized I involuntarily stopped paying attention to him.
I peered at the devil among devils, "I assume this will be about bribery and taxes?"
"No, but we'll do that next time, just as a sneak peek though its almost always cheaper and quite frankly advantageous to pay the people in the government rather than the government but I digress.
"Your idea of selling mass produced magic contracts to militaries, mercenaries and other such groups is quite frankly the most innovation the business side of knot has seen ever since Corinit invented sliced bread.
"However, a good idea and business competency mean nothing compared to knowing people." Byleth spoke, his breath filled with envy as he no doubt thought about the fact that Corinit's cold water pool is exactly one centimeter wider than Byleth's own pool. Which was of course the second largest cold water pool within the knot.
"I've been reading that tome you gave me, *Negations for the Lead Tongued,* already I've gotten a new ink supplier with a five percent reduction in costs." I said with an authoritative tone just as I was taught.
"No no no. I'm talking about really knowing people. For example you know the prince, since you went to school with him for seven years. Honestly that alone accounts for half the investment you raised as being a friend of you is a step away from being a friend of the prince.
What you need is to become friends with every important player in the knot. The easiest way is to be introduced into a party." Byleth dug into one of his table's drawers and procured a packet of cigars far too small for him, a bottle of whiskey and a tin full of cocaine. "You're going have one set of these a day as training for socializing with your peers. Besides, business are far easier to maintain on this diet."
I looked on with cold shock, "Won't I die?" I questioned, validated by my medicinal knowledge that couldn't even be considered surface level.
"We'll replace your organs, I just got this heart yesterday."
"How am I supposed to afford both hard drugs and regular surgery, you yourself said and I quote, 'If you have to assume the cost of something assume any variable cost will be the maximum cost'. I'll be on the streets in a year if I do this!" I exclaimed.
"If in the future you don't make enough money to afford these stimulates and their consequences you clearly didn't take enough of them."
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joxu908
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joxnsgd
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[WP] "Earth is devoid of magic. That is precisely why it is so dangerous. No one notices a planet like that until it is far too late to control it's potential."
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The cosmos are full of wonders. Myriads of species have tackled the mysteries hidden within the universe, each pulling their own fantastical insights back out. For example, the Rekachi of the Theta Lupos quadrant came into being with a natural aptitude for space-faring, their shielding magic protecting them from the vacuum of space while ancillary spells provide air and propel themselves throughout the stars. Once they entered the interstellar arena of galactic politics, they realized that there was more than just the vacuum to shield from while traveling, and they adapted their magics accordingly. On the scale of things, their aptitude as a whole was not bad, but some less fortunate races can just barely scratch the surface of magic and its uses, and thus are forced to do the hands-on work that no others have the time, or spell, to do. That is how it always was, until we came along.
Humanity originates from an arm on the Milky Way galaxy, in a small solar system with only one planet that birthed life, and those life forms never knew the wonders of magic. In most cases, they would have been exploited by the multitude of magical races throughout the stars, that is if any of them had been remotely aware of their existence. By a stroke of obscene luck, some might say magical (however there is absolutely no proof of that), the sector our solar system originated in was previously decimated by a gruesome war, and left completely devoid of life and magic, and thus humanity was born without anyone else present.
The first few millennia of human life were very brutal. The constant war and infighting, rapid advancements in technology, and early attempts at space travel led us to the conclusion that we were utterly alone in the galaxy. We were wrong, but by the time we found that out, it was too late for everyone else.
The first race we encountered were the Ozrin of Omega Centauri. Their natural cloaking magic hid them from our scanners, so when we accidentally bumped into one of them both the crew of our ship and the roaming Ozrin were startled to say the least. After the initial wariness, and lack of obvious weapons on the Ozrin man, we attempted to communicate. After many tries, he managed to learn our letters and was able to write, and he had managed to craft a spell to hear our words in his language. Thus, we learned about magic, and how we are devoid of its presence. Over time, the Ozrin came to learn of our history, and even given our violent upbringing, they became one of our closest friends. The rest of the galaxy, and even then the wider universe, were not so easy to establish a relationship with.
The Ozrin were the closest ones to us for many many light years, and even they themselves had not interacted with much of the wider galaxy. We had been lucky that they had been the ones we found first, because they did not know the generally accepted customs for races that had little to no magical aptitude. As we ventured into the galaxy together, we learned many hard truths. Hardest of all: races with little to no magical aptitude were treated as slaves. As we had our own bout with slavery during our early stages of civilization, we were outraged at these atrocities that we saw were generally accepted by even the most "peaceful" and "benevolent" races. We would not stand to see others suppressed the way we had suppressed ourselves.
At the beginning, nobody took us seriously. After all, what could a race of people without access to the wonders of magic do to the many races of extremely skillful mages that have reigned for aeons? Even our closest friends, the Ozrin, were skeptical of our chances. However, knowing our history, the Ozrin did what they could to at least get their allied races to back down from that custom, and for those few that it worked for they are eternally grateful that they listened.
Those that did not heed the warnings of the Ozrin learned very quickly that we did not tolerate infringements on our freedoms. One of the more violent slaver races, the Ezarka, tried to enslave a colony of ours in the Zental system, but they were quickly subdued. When their allies came for us, we warned them to stay away. We warned them to leave us alone. We told them what we are capable of. None of them bothered to heed our warnings, to listen to what we were saying...
After the Ezarka Subjugation, the Zental Conflict made it very VERY clear to anyone who actually paid attention; magic does not protect you from nuclear weapons.
​
Edited already a couple of times for spelling
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General Xanax, a slimy bipedal lizard-like creature, sat down in the midst of the Fair Trade Cyclone (FTC), an intergalactic alliance made for the prospect of crippling or eradicating other extraterrestrial species that may or have grown advanced enough to risk war with them.
“General Xanax.” The organism which was made from multitudes of string-like organism matter tangled with each other greeted him with a small bow.
“Sire Luwin.” He bowed back.
The two other members of the FTA council weren’t as polite. The bulky minotaur to his left, Grand Chieftain Kraag, grunted at him when their eyes met, and Veein, who was a microscopically thin being who constantly emitted toxic gas so she had to be contained in a tight seal suit, looked at him disinterestedly.
“You better have a good reason why you urgently summoned me from my eighth daughter’s third wedding.” Kraag gnawed at him.
“I assure you, Grand chieftain. I wouldn’t dare to interrupt such a moment between you and your bulky daughter if it was not of utmost importance.” Xanax politely replied, knowing how best to appease him according to his culture.
“I think it is a good time to start then.”
Xanax gestured his hand to reveal a hologram on top of the table. A fleshy bipedal creature floated on top of them.
“A new species? … what a waste of my time.” The ever so impatient Veein criticized.
As she was about to take her leave, Sire Luwin urged her to stay.
“Let’s listen to what General Xanax has to say first, why waste the time you spent traveling here?”
Veein looked around before begrudgingly sitting back down.
“Thank you, Sir Luwin.” He gave him a nod, who gestured him back to feel free to continue.
“I believe that this species who we have discovered on a distant planet, we termed Termina-E0821, should be eradicated.”
“So? We have done this thousands of times. Use the Gnoll-vague criteria to measure the magica advancement level and follow the guidelines for the best approach on how to turn them into smut. Now, remind me why we had to be summoned on such short notice?”
“That is the problem, good Veein. These creatures have no amplitude for magic.”
Just at a moment’s notice, all their attention was brought to Xanax. He snapped his fingers to show multiple videos of the creatures, showing their society, their machinery, their architecture, and their warfare.
“They operate purely on a mechanical basis. Their entire solar system is devoid of magic, hence they had never evolved to utilize it.”
“But from what I can see” Luwin pitched in. “all of their technology seems limited. If I had to guess, they had yet to achieve interplanetary travel, let alone colonization.”
“Your observation skills are quite remarkable, Sire Luwin. That may be correct, but when we reviewed the eye on the oracle to use the limit they have emitted over the last one thousand years, we found out that their rate of advancement has been very exponential, threateningly so.”
“What the big deal then? Just throw a Maga intergalactic explosion at them and reset them back to tiny microbes.” Kraag crossed his arms.
“I am afraid that is not possible.”
“Why not? You too afraid?” Kraag looked down at him.
“It is not possible on a technical level-“ Xanax started, but was interrupted by Veein.
“From our current level of understanding, when a spell is cast it is not like a giant ball of energy, but rather a powerful magnet that attracts, absorbs, and converts the magic molecules around it. So if it were to enter a magic vacuum. Then it would only shrink the further it stayed.”
“To be more precise, a Maga intergalactic explosion would shrink from the size of the moon of Plutio to the size of your fist only a tenth of the way between Termina-E0821 and its closest magic nodule.
“What a peculiar position.” Veein stroke the chin of her helmet.
“I have some suggestions that I worked up with our team, though you are welcome to add any of your own.”
“These creatures, which we have termed the Mechanica, cannot reach us with their current advancement levels, but we also can’t harm them with our methods of travel and weaponry. I say we pull some of our resources into a team to invent mechanical-based technology and we hope that we can reach them before they can reach us. But we must remember that if we leave them alone for long enough, we may become more trapped in them than they are trapped within us right now.”
“Is it not possible for us to invite them to join the FTC, seeing how remarkably unique their circumstance is?” Luwin suggested.
“That would be a very dangerous proposition. As it stands now, we have no countermeasures to their technology and if we invite them and study our technology to find an all-shutdown magic weapon, then we would very at a substantial disadvantage. Though if we have no other resort, we may be able to entertain that idea.”
“If no one else has any more to add, then I believe it is best for us to dismiss the meeting and prepare.”
The council was as silent as the middle of the ocean.
“Well, then. You are all dismissed. Oh and Grand Chieftain ... may your eighth daughter have a challenging mud wrestling tonight,.
"Thanks." Kraag grunted back.
​
**Thank you for reading my little story and if you liked my work, then feel free to check out my other stuff at** r/FluffWrites.
**Also check out my dark-fantasy series,** [The Dark Road Ahead](https://www.reddit.com/r/FluffWrites/comments/hybda2/series_the_dark_road_ahead_chapter_0_sacrifice/) **, as I work hard on it.**
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llis8zp
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llhh4i9
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[WP] All children under the age of 13 vanishes with only a note left behind that says "Due to humans not caring about the future of their young, all children have been relocated. If you truly love (Name), you will not intervene as we restart your race. -Signed 'The Protectors'"
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My daughter died young. I don't expect you to understand. Who would? No one listened when she was screaming those nine months. Something no child should go through. The judges all said that her life wasn't as important as the one forcefully shoved inside her.
I had to watch her small frame get ripped to shreds as my granddaughter was born. You know what my daughter's last words were to me? 'Keep her safe, Ma, she's a precious gem.'. My little girl could have hated that child, but she didn't have a bad bone in her body.
So I did exactly as my little girl asked. I raised Gem even though the rest of my family disagreed. My husband left, unable to stand the sight of her. I understood, she looked just like our girl, but that didn't stop it hurting any less.
So you see, when I woke to find my precious granddaughter was gone, and you left me this stupid note telling me I'm not going to do right by my daughter's death wish... well, that made me a little upset. You could say, it made me even a little mad.
Now, you're probably wondering 'How did some ol' biddy find our secure channel to broadcast this nonsense?' Oh, I'll get to that.
But first I'm gonna tell you what happened to the man who hurt my baby.
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They watched the readouts as the computers ran endless tasks. The room dark except for much of the glow from screens and devices.
"So what do you think about the notes?" Oliver asked.
Rowan glanced at him after he understood that Oliver wanted an answer. His creased face, while upbeat, still rather distant. He sat back and motioned at the screens in front of him.
"It's been a couple of months." He shook his head. "What else is there to think about? All the kids went missing. People went native for a few weeks. And everyone who went missing hasn't been seen since."
As grim as the synopsis was, Rowen barely showed any sign of sadness. He stayed locked to the equipment he checked. Brushing his holster further up the table. He looked at Oliver again as he reminded himself about how to be polite.
"Rowen, when did you start carrying? I thought you were better than that?"
"Well, you thought wrong." He shrugged. "I quit the whole pacifist route when people started playing the blame game."
"Understandable."
The pair of them continued checking the array readings as the night went on. Eventually, it came up again.
"So, how's everything at home?" Rowen broached. Oliver turning to look at him fully, running a hand over his hair. An auburn going gray. Part age, part stress.
"Jules is, she's doing her best." He admitted. "It's been rough on her. You know? The house isn't. It isn't home anymore."
Rowen silently nodded at this.
"Sometimes, I wake up and I hear footsteps running. My kids. I guess I'm doing my best too."
"All we can do." Rowen agreed.
"You didn't have any, right?" Oliver wondered.
Rowen bit his lip. "No, but, people get upset that you had parents if you got left behind."
"They take it out on you?"
"There's been a couple of age related murders around my area." Rowen outlined. "Can't be too honest about your life anymore."
"Nobody should." Oliver cosigned.
The pair continued staring at their work as code and tasks flowed by.
"I just wish they tried talking to us. Negotiating." Oliver muttered.
"I guess they figured we couldn't be reasoned with." Rowen decided.
"Back then, we could've. We could've. " Oliver straightened a little. "Now. Not so much."
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jao3hw2
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janxp5q
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[WP] A commuter train passing through Monster Town derails. Most of the passengers are found except a wealthy heir. Their wealthy parents sends a specialist to the supernatural hamlet to recover the missing heir because the police are forbidden to enter the supernatural sovereign territory.
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My heart stopped. I guess it would be more accurate to say that everything stopped. The noise of the city, the passers-by, the birds, even the wind seemed to pause as I stared dumbly at the scene in front of me. It seemed as if the whole world had halted for this moment.
Just in front of me, kneeling on the ground, was my girlfriend of three years. In her hand, stretched out towards me, was a ring. My girlfriend had just proposed to me.
"What?" I asked, still dumbstruck.
"You mean absolutely everything to me and I want to spend the rest of my life with you." Her voice was shaky. I could tell that she was nervous.
Or perhaps nervous was an understatement. She looked terrified, apprehensive, and cautiously optimistic all at once.
My brain then decided to catch up to reality. But just as I was going to emphatically shout 'Yes!' to her, I noticed the ring.
Silver. Damn. That was bad. Well, not bad, but actually dangerous. You see, I am a werewolf. Silver is deadly to me. A ring like this won't kill me, but it would be extraordinarily painful. If I were to put it on I could lose the finger entirely.
With this in mind, and keenly aware that I had taken way too long to think, I told her that yes, I would love nothing more than to marry the woman of my dreams. Or I tried to. What actually came out was:
"I... uh, yes! Yes, I... yes! You...er, I mean... I...yes, I do! Want to, that is. Marry... oh god." The gods wish they were as articulate as I am. Eat your heart out Shakespeare.
Elisabeth, my new fiancé (bro, what?!), was elated, if a bit confused, at my incoherent ramble. Me too, love, me too.
She grabbed my hand and began to put the ring on my finger. Alarm bells started going off in my head. There was only one thing I could do; I would have to tell her the truth. I looked around to see if there was an audience before spilling my guts only to see that, yes, there was an audience. Worse yet, some were filming it. We were in a rather secluded part of the park, but I guess not secluded enough.
I couldn't tell her the truth now, not could I refuse the ring after that *extremely poetic* bit earlier. I would have to actor the ring and suffer in silence until I could take it off. I might lose the finger, but I would just have to take the chance.
As the ring slid onto my finger, I could addled feel the pain set in. It was a burning pain, like dipping your finger into a deep-fryer. I was in agony. But I would put up with it until we could go somewhere more private.
She stood up and kissed me on the spot. I wish I could lose myself in the kiss like I usually do, but the pain made everything hard to focus on. Many people believe that the pain is similar to touching hot metal, but it really feels like sticking your hand in boiling water or oil. Sure the metal is hot, but it isn't a localized pain like a branding. It's also more dull than hot metal.
I pulled away from the kiss and practically dragged Elisabeth to the bushes, dimly aware of some congratulations coming from the crowd. I needed this ring off, and I needed it off now. We ran into the bushes and I proceeded to rip the ring off my finger and thrust it into Elisabeth's had with no pretext that I was not in tremendous pain.
As I cradled my burning hand Elisabeth looked worried and hurt. Oh, right. The proposal. She probably thought that I just rejected her in private. I promptly shut that idea down with a deep kiss. She returned it reluctantly.
"God, I love you." I said. She just looked more confused. "I can't wear silver." I confessed.
"Oh. Oh! You're allergic?" Elisabeth sounded relieved.
"Something like that." I risked a glanced at my burning finger. It was deep red. It was definitely burned. Perhaps third degree at that. Apparently Elisabeth also saw it.
"Oh, God! Is that from the ring?" She grabbed my hand to get a better look at it.
"Yeah. Ow." I responded.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't know-" I cut her off with another kiss.
"Hey, it's my fault that I didn't tell my new fiancé about my allergy. Just means I get to help you pick my new ring." Her eyes beamed at that. God I love her.
|
"Will you, please?" He asked, light glinting in his eyes.
"Oh," she sobbed at it. "Omari. It's beautiful."
He really didn't like making Robina cry. For any reason. Even though he planned this as a bit of a joke amongst their friends, the gesture was genuine even if it wasn't the way he usually did things.
Robina however seemed to shake her head slightly in a 'no' motion and he wondered if he'd gone too far. If she said no, he still understood. And perhaps this would be a reason why.
"I, I..." She choked again. "Yes!"
Of course while she didn't put it on at that moment, it was because it took second place to the giant hug the pair gave each other as the others cheered at the reveal.
Omari thought it was cringeworthy, or cheesy, or whatever somebody felt like calling it. But a bet was a bet. He'd lost his, and the fact was he had agreed to these terms. He had to publicly propose to Robina if he lost. And for the occasion, he'd made sure to get a ring. Or at least try to. He felt like just silver wasn't good enough. But reality had met his wallet for the Nth time in life.
He just hoped he was worthy of her being there.
To shorten a long night, the party was great. A lot of familiar faces had came by to say congratulations, or just to help out with favors. And the rest of the night was pretty great too. Too his surprise, it also ended in the tangle of sheets many would hope for.
For some odd reason, he woke up early in the morning. It wasn't a normal lapse from sleep. Something was burning. It smelt like it. His alarm at this also brought his attention to the fact that the house was deathly quiet. Robina wasn't in bed. The door to the room was open, and the house was dark.
But something was burning.
A quick leap into some sweats led him to search the rest of the house room by room. Nothing was visibly on fire. And he still couldn't find Robina. He quietly lifted a bat from the closet as he kept creeping through the house.
"Robi-" He stopped himself from whispering. Just beyond the backdoor sat an absolute unit of a person. Way too big to be his fiance. Way too big to perhaps be human even. Something was still burning, an almost metallic smell he could taste now.
Omari's first instinct came to leave. Either upstairs or out the front door. He really didn't have a clue which would be the better choice. Or whether it even mattered.
"*Listen. It'll be okay.*" Somebody spoke. "*Just play it cool. Tell him you're allergic to silver. He can get another ring.*"
"It's the best he could do."
That voice, albeit scratchy, with much more base than was familiar. It couldn't be. He almost said her name, but assumed that whatever this was. It must have killed and ate her. He backed up a hair. And knocked an empty cup off the table.
The sound made the head turn instantly. Omari began to run. His subconscious screaming that it wasn't enough. That thing would catch him. Something deftly grabbed his collar and he was clotheslined into the floor.
Robina didn't mean to do that to him. But it seemed safer than tackling him or otherwise strong arming him from the front door. Nonetheless she found herself pinning Omari and checking to see if it was him. Yup. It was him of course, but you couldn't be too sure. He was trying his best to scream bloody murder. An acceptable reaction as much as she carefully tried to gently stifle it.
Something clattered from her hand into the floor. The ring spinning like a lost die before rolling flat.
"...Robina?" He asked between breaths.
"*...So, I'm guessing he knows?*" A voice reacted to the commotion.
She held the phone like a playing card in her oversized hand. "Call. Back. Later."
"*Okay Robbie, have fun. Don't kill him.*"
"O...mari." Robina tried to say. "Wha'?"
"Crushin' me..." He breathed.
He sat on the couch. She sat on the floor as to be somewhat level with him. She took the ring, holding it up for him? It sizzled in her palm, until she yelped and let it fall onto the couch. That explained the smell.
"So you can't wear silver?"
Robina shook her head no.
"Anything else?" Omari said as he rubbed his ribs further. Robina simply opened her palms in that way she did and pointed at herself.
"Well?" She uttered. Big crocodile tears starting to form even now.
Omari looked her up and down and laid further back on the couch. "I mean. It could've been be worse."
"How??"
"I thought you, um, didn't like the ring." Omari quietly explained. She palmed the floor at this meager deflection. "I mean, your hair look good though."
Robina sighed and rolled her eyes. Even as a giant werewolf, he still managed to remind her why they loved each other so much. She sat there for a minute before picking him up and calmly walking towards the hall. Tail wagging like a lost puppy.
"What are we doing?"
"Bed."
"Why would we-"
He got his head bonked on the wall by her bridal carry.
"Damn."
"Sorry."
"Be careful. I'm tender."
Needless to say, getting a different ring was in order. And maybe another bedframe.
---
...He'll probably be aight. r/Jamaican_Dynamite
|
jao3hw2
|
janrke7
|
[WP] A commuter train passing through Monster Town derails. Most of the passengers are found except a wealthy heir. Their wealthy parents sends a specialist to the supernatural hamlet to recover the missing heir because the police are forbidden to enter the supernatural sovereign territory.
|
My heart stopped. I guess it would be more accurate to say that everything stopped. The noise of the city, the passers-by, the birds, even the wind seemed to pause as I stared dumbly at the scene in front of me. It seemed as if the whole world had halted for this moment.
Just in front of me, kneeling on the ground, was my girlfriend of three years. In her hand, stretched out towards me, was a ring. My girlfriend had just proposed to me.
"What?" I asked, still dumbstruck.
"You mean absolutely everything to me and I want to spend the rest of my life with you." Her voice was shaky. I could tell that she was nervous.
Or perhaps nervous was an understatement. She looked terrified, apprehensive, and cautiously optimistic all at once.
My brain then decided to catch up to reality. But just as I was going to emphatically shout 'Yes!' to her, I noticed the ring.
Silver. Damn. That was bad. Well, not bad, but actually dangerous. You see, I am a werewolf. Silver is deadly to me. A ring like this won't kill me, but it would be extraordinarily painful. If I were to put it on I could lose the finger entirely.
With this in mind, and keenly aware that I had taken way too long to think, I told her that yes, I would love nothing more than to marry the woman of my dreams. Or I tried to. What actually came out was:
"I... uh, yes! Yes, I... yes! You...er, I mean... I...yes, I do! Want to, that is. Marry... oh god." The gods wish they were as articulate as I am. Eat your heart out Shakespeare.
Elisabeth, my new fiancé (bro, what?!), was elated, if a bit confused, at my incoherent ramble. Me too, love, me too.
She grabbed my hand and began to put the ring on my finger. Alarm bells started going off in my head. There was only one thing I could do; I would have to tell her the truth. I looked around to see if there was an audience before spilling my guts only to see that, yes, there was an audience. Worse yet, some were filming it. We were in a rather secluded part of the park, but I guess not secluded enough.
I couldn't tell her the truth now, not could I refuse the ring after that *extremely poetic* bit earlier. I would have to actor the ring and suffer in silence until I could take it off. I might lose the finger, but I would just have to take the chance.
As the ring slid onto my finger, I could addled feel the pain set in. It was a burning pain, like dipping your finger into a deep-fryer. I was in agony. But I would put up with it until we could go somewhere more private.
She stood up and kissed me on the spot. I wish I could lose myself in the kiss like I usually do, but the pain made everything hard to focus on. Many people believe that the pain is similar to touching hot metal, but it really feels like sticking your hand in boiling water or oil. Sure the metal is hot, but it isn't a localized pain like a branding. It's also more dull than hot metal.
I pulled away from the kiss and practically dragged Elisabeth to the bushes, dimly aware of some congratulations coming from the crowd. I needed this ring off, and I needed it off now. We ran into the bushes and I proceeded to rip the ring off my finger and thrust it into Elisabeth's had with no pretext that I was not in tremendous pain.
As I cradled my burning hand Elisabeth looked worried and hurt. Oh, right. The proposal. She probably thought that I just rejected her in private. I promptly shut that idea down with a deep kiss. She returned it reluctantly.
"God, I love you." I said. She just looked more confused. "I can't wear silver." I confessed.
"Oh. Oh! You're allergic?" Elisabeth sounded relieved.
"Something like that." I risked a glanced at my burning finger. It was deep red. It was definitely burned. Perhaps third degree at that. Apparently Elisabeth also saw it.
"Oh, God! Is that from the ring?" She grabbed my hand to get a better look at it.
"Yeah. Ow." I responded.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't know-" I cut her off with another kiss.
"Hey, it's my fault that I didn't tell my new fiancé about my allergy. Just means I get to help you pick my new ring." Her eyes beamed at that. God I love her.
|
“What is it?” I asked, a foolish question. I stared down at the thing, the posioned promise of a life I didn’t deserve.
“What does it look like? I don’t care what your family will think, or mine for what that’s worth,” He said, impatient but tender, staining the knees of his slacks on the forest floor. This is why he’d been nervous all day, not something else.
The silver gleamed, drawing up the bile in my gut. I could smell the caustic air off the thing that he held in sweaty fingers, liable to slip and send the fearsome threat popping towards me.
“I don’t know what to say.” I wanted to embrace him, I wanted to weep, I wanted to sprint off into the trees. I stood there, waiting, heart beyond the human register.
His wasn’t far off.
“Maya, will you mar-”
“Don’t!” I yelled, surprising myself with the sharp tone. The hurt in his eyes was immediate and terrible. “I can’t take that ring.”
He looked up at me, facing twisting in his own warring mess of emotion for another second before hardening. “And why’s that?”
“I’ve let this go on longer than I should have, that’s on me. I can’t be with you. I can’t be with anyone, not like that.”
“You’re always saying things like that, like you’ve committed some great sin and the only solution is to deny yourself everything, forever.” I could smell the salt on him over the deer upwind. “I want this, I don’t care what you did.”
He reached out to touch me. I didn't protest, feeling his warm, strong hand.
A mad idea struck me. Give him some excuse, take the ring, coat it in lacquer or tell him I reacted to silver, hives perhaps. He’d have a gold one tomorrow. We could keep this going.
“Marcus, did implies it's over. My sins continue, unrepentant. Find yourself another girl. One that can give you what you want.”
“I want you. No one else. What are you doing that’s so bad you can’t be with me, start a family?”
“I’d tear the baby up in my womb before its heart beat. I’m the one that’s been killing the livestock, leaving the mangled messes.”
“What? How? Like a ritual thing?”
“Not really, I’m a beast, wearing the skin of a girl. An imposter.”
"A beast?" He let his hand drop.
"Yes, for many years now. I go from town to town, leaving when the suspicion is too great."
“There’s a doctor over in Novoberg. We can talk to him about these thoughts you’re having. My aunt-”
“I’m not your crazy aunt, Marcus,” I said, this time surprising myself with the chill calm in my tone. I grabbed the ring. The crackling of sizzling bacon came from my palm. I spasmed and dropped the smoking thing to the ground. A small fire started to catch on the pine leaves.
“I am not worthy of this life.” I held out my sagging hand, showing him the angry red circle. "Cursed, damned."
I stared, daring him to argue further. He looked away and I nodded bitterly. I ran. Tonight was the night, after all.
After a few breathless miles, I curled my sore body under a boulder. As sick as it was to admit, I craved the change and the clarity it brought. I focused on my breathing and tried to seperate myself from my thoughts, my mangled disaster of a human life. My pretend life. I slept until the cracks of my bones breaking woke me up.
I breathed the forest air, sweet and deeper in meaning than any song. There was no fear, no sadness, no concern at all. I could not recall why that was notable. I shook off the thin rags of the clothes I’d forgotten to remove.
I ran to the rhythm of my heart, planless save for the instinct of movement. I was limping on a front paw. I stopped to lick the wound, content.
I perked my ears up to a foreign sound. The yelping of the smelly ones, the smokey ones. I crouched low as I stalked. Stinking oil came from a fire it held as it twittered louder, scaring away any nearby food no doubt. That was fine. This one was larger.
I could never tell them apart, the faces a blurry hairless mess, but this one looked familiar and large, indeed. I crept closer, easily hiding from the yelling thing. Seeing its back, unaware and undefended, pulled me, begged me forward but I was still. I knew not why. I was going to let this go, the biggest meal in quite some time.
It turned then and stared at me, squawking again, softer. I rumbled deep as I stepped into his light. Brave idiot did not run, but I saw the awe in its eyes.
I stepped closer, sniffing his many confusing smells, not wholly unpleasant. He did not move. I let my hackles drop.
A roar of thunder crashed above and the man thing flinched. I lashed out at the quick movement and sunk teeth into its leg, cold and weak as a doe. The metallic song on my tongue overwhelmed whatever had slowed me, and I thrashed with more vigor as it fell.
The cracks and tears of the man thing's unmaking competed with its shouts. Eventually it stopped, leaving only wet dripping softer than bird song.
I spit out something burning that had been tangled up in the mess of the thing. Tomorrow, there may be regret for this, but tonight there was only two feelings ringing through me, the hunger, deep as screaming black, and its sister, gulping eager satisfaction.
Forgive me.
/r/surinical
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lmpjsdf
|
lmom9a6
|
[WP] You were made fun of as a male with a 'feminine' superpower growing up. Who's laughing now considering you are now the most powerful and richest superhero?
|
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a Superhero.
You know... Boots, capes, the pose... Pointing to your fated foe to halt their nefarious actions.
By my ten years, I finally manifested a power.
The absolute power over... Flowers.
Ever since that, I have been mocked... Seen as the laughingstock of the male hero community. Belittling comments like "Throw me a bouquet flower-boy" or "Attack them with you pollen" had been the common ever since.
It was a sobering experience...
But that didn't stop me.
I took another moniker... "The Baleful Floral Symphony"...
My calling card? A simple lily.
I had more than simple control over flowers... I could manipulate both the physiology and biochemistry of said plant organ. Scale them up, or down... Modify their scent to something relaxing, or deadly...
Even the joke of using a floral chainmail, with the very petals arranged in a helicoidal pattern had proved to be an effective move.
So not bad for "The flower boy", eh?
|
I'm pretty damn good at being at being a cross-roads salesman. I'm even good friends with Satan himself. He's my best friend actually. But nobody really knows this. Look, I'm not a good guy. But I'm not a terrible one either. You probably thought I'd say something toxic like: "Look, I'm not a bad guy" that's what an asshole would say.
But I guess my friends would think about me. I make a lot of friends with guys like Satan. We're on really good terms. We talk about extortion, drugs, everything. They say I have a way with words. Which I do. I'm very supportive of all my friends. But none of them are doing particularly well at the moment. Satan's authority is pretty much being uprooted by his army. He was just complaining to me today about someone exposing his hidden Gotcha art. Dude has a tiktok dedicated to gotcha content. His defense is that he's trying to entice kids into using tiktok and to further solidify tensions against US and China. No one buys it though...
There's this other friend of mine whose really into extorting people. He's a natural. Gets some dick picks from sad simps online to blackmail them into giving him 1k bucks. This guy's hiliarious! Because after he gets the money from these kids then he just continues to threaten them. To bad his wife ended up turning him into the police and his whole family ended up disowning the guy. Not my fault though. He was just telling me how some person tipped off his wife about the contents on his computer. I guess she believed them and spilled.
I work with some pretty good guys. A lot of them end up going through some rough patches but they compensate me well for my time since I'm such a good friend to them. They all tell me that I listen well without judgement. It's true. I don't judge them. I sit there making them feel better. They usually poke fun at me saying that I'm a lot like a girl. I act offended but I'm not. Not really.
And you know... sometimes I just shoot the shit. Just like how your girlfriends do.
|
ktzpe9k
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ktzp5qe
|
[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.
|
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.
|
I open my eyes just to be blinded by the sun for a moment.
"How long I've been laying like that..?" I ask myself, but I can't remember anything form before waking up.
As I try to get up, I start feeling that my body is numb as never before. I stretch myself a little and after doing so, I feel a little better.
I look around and see that I'm on some sort of a cliff. I can see the sea in the distance, but when I turn around, I see a city. A city with windmills towering above it.
"That's where I should go."
As I make my way down the flatter side of the cliff, I see multiple dandelions growing out of the ground. The wind is slowly blowing off their petals.
After something like half an hour, the city city starts to slowly get bigger as I get closer and closer.
As I look around the grassland I'm currently crossing, I spot something shiny between blades of grass.
I decide to get closer only to be splashed with water from...
"What is this thing?!"
I jump back, almost like it burned me. There are more of these things gathering around me.
Before I'm able to do anything, I hear something cutting through the air. It hits one of those watery things and it vaporises almost immediately. The same thing happens to the other two creatures, and with the last shot, I'm able to see an arrow. Burning arrow.
"Outrider Amber, it's nice to meet you!"
I don't know from where she came from, but I can definitely tell that she was the one shooting.
"It's nice to meet you too, I guess... That's for saving me from those things."
"It's nothing really! It's a part of my job as an Outrider. And those things are called Slimes. Hydro Slimes, to be exact. Anyway, what are you doing here?"
"I'm not sure myself... I just woke up on a cliff and decided to get to that city."
"That city's name is Mondstadt - The city of freedom and song! I'll escort you there if you want."
"That would be a big help, thank you."
As we walk towards Mondstadt, I ask her about the flaming arrows, and she gives me a little lecture as to what elements and Visions are.
She explains that the world is ruled by Seven Nations and seven elements. They are: Pyro, Cryo, Hydro, Electro, Anemo, Dendro, and Geo.
As to what Visions are, I understand that they're given to people by gods. I don't really know the conditions, but that doesn't seem to be that important right now.
She shows me her own Vison - a Pyro Vision. That's how she lit the arrows.
Finally, we arrive at Mondstadt's gate.
"Thank you, Amber, for getting me here preventing me from bumping into more of those Slimes."
"Good that you didn't bump into a Hilichurl." She laughs a little, but I don't even understand what a Hilichurl is.
"Is there someone who could keep me in for this one night?"
"If I were you, I'd ask people in the Cathedral. I bet Sister Victoria and Barbara will help you!"
"Thank you once again."
"That's no problem, really! I should get going myself. See you around!
She walks away and the only thing I'm left with is going to the Cathedral.
When I arrive and tell my story to Sister Victoria and Barbara, they offer me their help and let me stay at the Cathedral.
As I fall asleep, I think about everything that happened today.
"This world is different, but I think I'll get along quickly. People seem so nice and helpful. I wonder what tomorrow will bring..."
|
j37v8ft
|
j37s3v7
|
[WP]You reincarnated in a fantasy world, but when you go check your stats, everything seems to be really average, until you put your eyes on charisma, that is on 200 points
|
"My queen!"
"Sup?"
"General Hawthorne of the Iron Legion is here on behalf of the Asmati Kingdom."
"Oh, cool. Show him in."
A tall, burly man covered in scars walked in. His armour, his bearing, his eyes - it all showed decades of military experience. A man that did not know defeat.
"Queen Dahlia," Hawthorne hissed.
"Hey. What brings you here?"
"I have ten thousand of my most decorated warriors waiting outside of your town. I have come to negotiate your surrender. Do the honourable thing; yield and save the lives of your people."
I looked at him carefully.
"No, I don't think I will."
Hawthorne's eyes narrowed.
"Then you will die," he growled.
"I guess I'll just, dunno, have to fight you then."
Hawthorne gasped and his eyes widened with sheer, unbridled terror. The utterance of those words, the assured tone, the way the sentence carried itself through the air - he never knew such fear. He knew he stood no chance.
"Say," I said, "do *you* want to surrender?"
He drew his sword with trembling fingers and threw it on the ground, sweat running down his forehead.
"Alright, cool," I said contently. "So I assume the, uh, uh..." I clicked my tongue a few times.
"Asmati Kingdom, my queen," my adjutant reminded me.
"Right! Cheers, mate. So I assume the Asmati Kingdom is going to become our vassal? Is that right, general?"
"Y- yes, your highness. I shall dispatch my messengers immediately. "
"Neat," I nodded. It reminded me of the time I gained control over my current kingdom.
Walked up to the king and asked.
*Nicely*.
|
That, you see, was the beginning of the end. I truly wish I could go back. Do so many things differently.
The number burned into my mind and unfortunately, my friends, I let it affect how I viewed the world. I let it change me.
Honestly, even saying that I feel the fool, knowing others will read it and scoff. They'll ridicule me, acting as if I have no agency in my own bleeding life. I don't know how to explain it. It was a choice. I knew this day would come. At the same time, with great power comes immense responsibility, of which I have proved I have none.
I am sorry, ladies and gentlemen.
Just, when it comes so *easy*, who am I to turn it down? I'm not Gandhi or Martin Luther King. No one will ever say: "Turn right onto Bill Thompson Ave."
So when I realized people would practically throw themselves at me, their belongings and their, like, flesh, I mean... who among you could say you'd do differently? Brothers and sisters, that who is without sin may cast the first stone.
I have forgone my right to a lawyer with only the truest intentions. I want to make you understand and see and admit that I am right. We are all like this or would be if we had the chance.
It is not my fault that I had the chance and that I took it.
And again: I'm sorry.
Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, I'm sorry about your two little girls. You'd understand too if a single wink could drop skirts and panties.
*Mrs. Johnson erupted in sobs, leaving Bill Thompson's next lines inaudible.*
Herbert, I'm sorry about your grandma's things, but, like, man she practically *gave* them to me! She double-fisted the heirlooms into my own bleeding paws, thanking me out the door.
Look, all this to make the point that: I'm just a normal, ordinary guy, doing what any of us would do, given the same circumstances. Look at it this way: if you were to become me, to live all of my same experiences, from my birth up to the present, you would do all of the same things. There is no special essence of *you*, ladies and gentlemen, that would make you behave differently. When viewed from this vantage point, do any of us even have a choice? Was it my choice to wink at Mrs. Johnson's little girls? Was it their choice to swoon and follow me into my home?
I'd argue not! I'd argue that there were no choices in the matter, regardless of how you look at it. And that any of you, including even you, your honor, would act the same way.
That is my opening statement, your honor.
|
leu7zll
|
letu4vt
|
[WP] You squealed as the heroes unmasked and kissed in front of the roaring crowds. Wait…you recognize their faces…that’s YOUR best friend and YOUR girlfriend/boyfriend.
|
It didn't take l9ng for facial recognition to work out their normy identifies, and by the time I stumbled through my front door in tears my phone was buzzing like a massage wand. Texts asking if I knew, missed calla from family and people I hadn't spoken to in years. I had just raised the bottle of vodka to my lips when there was a hammering on the door.
I opened the curtain and closed it very quickly, there were reporters and cameras and the were multiplying like the Duplicate Man. They stayed there all night, banging on my door and the police didn't help. Can't blame them, the heroes make the police look so bad that they just stopped trying.
They were still there two nights later when a sudden gravity drop threw them in the air and carried them away. It was followed by a very polite knock which I ignored.
"Sarah, if you don't open the door, I have no qualms about lifting the whole building and taking you to my base."
Great, now to had to fave a supervillain. I open the door.
*"You know there's no point, they won't come save me."* I slur a bit, more from sheer exhaustion than anything, I didn't give them the courtesy of drinking myself to oblivion.
"You are their beloved and best friend aren't you?" He gives me a hard look.
*"You saw the same declaration of love as the rest if the world right? And look around, they didn't come and help me when I was barricaded in my own home due to what they did!"* At this point I want yo cry but I have no tears left, seriously I felt so dehydrated. I walk over to my sofa and lay down.
*"Kill me if you want, but at least let me sleep first."*
I woke up in Gravitons base, refreshed from a good deep sleep. He must have drugged me but he claims I was just that exhausted. It took him a month to accept they really weren't coming to save me and conveniently fall into his trap. He went around muttering "better morals than a freaking hero" for a while. We watched their love story play out on screens, adored by the public, I got a brief mention as the jealous ex who ran off, the Villain in the romance.
Eventually Graviton told me I could leave, I told him I'd be lynched for getting in the way of the perfect love story. We agreed on me staying and being his accountant, not a bad gig and he was generous with benefits, even setting up a standing order from my favourite coffee place. How he always had that cinnamon and vanilla latte with extra shot on my desk every morning I have no idea, the base was about 200 miles from that shop. Lots of stuff happened over the next couple of years, some good, some bad, but all so much more freeing than being in the shadow of those two arseholes.
Which brings us to today, when the wedding couple flew in to the chapel from our little pre-planned disaster, looking like a complete mess, as me and Graviton shared our first kiss as husband and wife in front of the world's cameras and the captive guests.
|
As the feeling of utter betrayal settled in his stomach, dark clouds began to roll in. His aching heart had cried out to the skies above, as he couldn't bare the warm embrace of the sun anymore. It didn't occur to him that the unnaturally dense and dark cloud cover was messing with her powers.
They must know!, he thought.
They must realize that I will see this! Why are they doing this to me!
His thoughts began to race as the pain in his chest became more and more unbearable. And the clouds above began to stir. With his first tears, rain began to fall. By now, everyone had taken notice of the change in weather. The people began to slowly disperse as the rain grew stronger. As did the wind.
"They must have known!", he said to himself through gritted teeth.
"They know and they don't care! I am nothing to them! They must think of me like a pet or lesser even!"
There was no way for him to feel more hurt than he did and so the ever building feeling of betrayal fueled another emotion. Or rather, there was enough fuel for an entire roster of emotions. Anger, rage and hatred. He was talking himself into a storm of emotions, while the storm around him began to grow in parallel intensity.
People began to ran for cover, as the rain became more and more intense, as lighting began to flash above and the clouds began to slowly spin. Hail got into the mix, ever growing balls of cold hard ice rained from the covered sky, smashing into anything unprotected. Even the heroes needed to take shelter.
With a thunderous crack, lightning reached from the sky. It was unnaturally guided to miss all the obvious points it would have to be attracted to normally and struck close to a group of people, seeking shelter in a mall entryway. By now he was standing alone in the middle of the plaza, surrounded by ever faster spinning wind. He saw the people getting hurt by the lightning, but he didn't care. No one had ever truly cared for him, why should he care for them. He gaze switched to another group and another bolt of lightning broke from the clouds to strike them. Thus time directly. He could feel the electric charge in the air. He could feel the wind patterns above, changing to his every whim. The rain falling on his command. The weather had been nice the last couple of months because he had felt great for once. He had felt loved and like he belonged. Now he felt great again. As he fully realized his power, he noticed the two heroes.
"You did this?", his friend asked, his face a mask of hurt and confusion.
"Don't you dare feel betrayed! You and that lying cheating bitch have betrayed me first! Just because you felt so superior to me! Now look who is superior! Now you come crawling to me! You are no heroes, you are liars! Cheater! Betrayer! Am I now significant enough for you assholes to notice! Am I now worth to be told the truth! Because it looked like you were going to keep this shared going for as long as you could!"
"We were going to tell you!"
"When you got back home? Why not tell me before, that you were a cheating whore, Bitch!"
Another bolt of lightning struck. They were thrown to the ground and separated from one another.
"I will hurt you, the same way you hurt me. I am not insignificant! I am still here! Am I not? Why did you not think of me? Why would you consider me not worthy of the truth, that I was merely your cover, not even a friend, just a pair of fucking glasses you could throw away as soon as they weren't needed anymore!"
In his blind rage, two more bolts struck her lifeless body.
"And you ... friend!"
Finally, the ever faster spinning wind was strong enough to lift objects ... and bodies.
"We'll have to talk, my friend", he said, as they both rise towards the sky, before the storm tore a path of utter destruction through the city.
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jypbnat
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jypal3e
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[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."
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"...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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Which is why I was here, of course. Compromise.
I had not been in necromancy for long. I hadn’t really chosen this, either. One moment I was headed home on the L train, minding my own business, and suddenly the car filled with fog and I ended up here, in this dark world. It wasn’t all that different from the one I had left – people had things to do, places to be, and if you didn’t show up, there was a place for those types too. A place I had been shown briefly and chose not to go. My only other choice was necromancer, or as they called it here, “soul harvester.”
They explained that I had the power to take anyone’s soul. Once taken, those people's souls would move on to the place where they were destined to show up.
“You perform a needed service. Certainly you understand from your previous life, from nature, right? Large predators dispose of the sick, the old, the lame. They improve the group as a whole. Same thing here, only you claim worn-out souls and send them where they were going anyway. You strengthen the overall group by culling the herd.”
“I can choose who I take?” I had asked.
“Of course! That is your new occupation, in fact,” they told me. “If you’re not comfortable with that, we can arrange for you to go elsewhere.” There was an ominous glow from all around when they said the world *elsewhere* that made me shudder. And I knew that it would be something like this. I wasn’t blameless, after all. I had made decisions that I knew would lead here someday. Small things, little bends in the rules, slight twists away from where I should have gone. Nothing major. I hadn’t killed anyone, for instance. The usual, everyday, ordinary compromises that get you around ethical dilemmas and move you forward without having to face the difficult decisions. Which made me qualified for this job in this place. The perpetual semi-darkness, the easy familiarity with the work, was comforting somehow.
“How do I sign up?”
“You just did,” they said, and disappeared.
It was steady work, believe me. There are millions of worn-out souls awaiting harvest. And their ages had nothing to do with their physical age in life. Sometimes it was fixing mistakes. Everyone makes them. You think the afterlife is perfect? I had harvested teenagers who had gotten stuck in newborn bodies. Mostly, though, it was people approaching the end of their lives, people who had made some kind of compromise during their lifetime. People just like I had been. Those compromises stain their souls. I got them when they were tarnished, scratched, frayed at the edges. Some of them had dark, corrupted places. Many of them had worked in politics.
I took them all. And in the process I had made a life for myself.
“Three souls, sir,” the manager repeated.
Three souls were child’s play. I had at least two hanging around in my cloak, which I gathered in my hand. I had to hunt for the third a bit. But while I was searching among the folds of my garment, I encountered a new soul. I had never seen one like this before. Brilliant, unstained, this little girl’s soul had been alive for only a short time before ending up with me. No compromises. I quickly wrapped it up inside my cloak’s many folds and selected a different one for payment. Presenting the souls, I said, “Here you go.”
“Thank you sir, and here are your groceries.” He handed me the bags.
As I walked toward the door, the bag-boy trailed behind me. He called out, in a quiet little voice, “You can’t protect her forever, you know. Not here.”
I turned and looked at him. Then I looked *through* him. Corrupt to the core. Dripping with malfeasance. Ripe.
I stared for about a minute. He knew I could have taken him, and I made him know it.
“What concern is it of yours?”
He looked back at me. His smart-aleck grin slipped, just a little bit.“Have a nice day, sir,” he whispered.
He was right, of course. I couldn’t protect her forever. But for today, yes, I could protect her for that long anyway.
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j53p9xq
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j52tl3r
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[WP] Teleportation is invented. It's presented with the ease of using an app. It's offered at a very affordable price, i.e.; New York, USA to Paris, France for $30. However, before it's release to the world, the inventor demands all fuel consumption is shut down.
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Most healers agree, our powers suck. I mean, there aren’t many of us so we are constantly being harassed to fix everyone’s mistakes, though generally for smaller things or, if the situation is bad enough, fixing big things fast. The problem with our healing is that it forces the patient to endure all of that pain and suffering in that time. What could be months of suffering is put into 30 seconds or less. It’s horrible to watch, and don’t ask about near death experiences, they’re in a whole different league.
But what’s even more unusual about our power, is that we can take up to half of their pain. Don’t ask why, I’m no superpower expert. I’m only a sophomore. Anyways, it’s become a common practice to charge to take away the pain of healing. The greater the injury, the greater the cost. You got a cut? $5 and you’ll feel better while it heals. Sprain? $75. What about a concussion? Those run around $250, and sometimes leaves me with a sense of vertigo. Then we get to the more serious stuff. Gunshot wounds might end up costing you $1000. Anything more serious, you better break open that Piggy bank, your healer is going to need some serious compensation.
We don’t charge to fix your problems, but we do charge you if you want us to take some of the responsibility. We’re not like the American healthcare system, we’re cheaper and more reliable. But we’re still just as spiteful and angry.
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It all started in middle school when Jayden broke his ankle on the yard. It was a nasty break I could hear it all the way from the other side of field. He cried a bunch but once he saw me running up he stopped and flung his arm at me, then pointed to his ankle. "Oh yeah is that where it hurts? Thanks for pointing I wouldn't have known." He was in too much pain to acknowledge my assholery and instead he just stifled sounds of pain through his clenched teeth. I rolled my eyes and knelt beside him; knocked off his shoe and rolled up his pant leg. I put one hand on his shin and the other on his ankle (most healers say put both hands on the affected area but what do they know). I close my eyes and focus in real hard. I dont know how long I was at it until Jayden punched me in the arm, "Ow what the hell!" I yelled.
I looked at his ankle and it was fine, regular ol' Jayden ankle. "You know you dont have to be such an asshole just hurry up an heal me," Jayden said with a smile. "Oh I'm sorry was I too slow for you? Maybe I could have kissed your booboo too before I started. Jeez I ought to start charging you for this."
And just like that we were in business, by the time we got to freshmen year me and Jayden were rolling in dough. most of the time when anyone gets hurt they go to the school nurse healer, but if anything serious happens like a broken bone you get in trouble and they call your parents a crazy stupid rule that they reason with: you cant put yourself or other in harms way. I guess its targeted at the meat head knights who always cut each others arms off. Whatever, if anything that rule is what drives my business, people want to fight but get hurt and when they get hurt instead of getting in trouble they throw me a few bronze pieces (silver for below the belt) for a few minutes of healing.
Jayden, being the popular mage kid, knows everyone, which means everyone knows us. its crazy, in one day of battle practice we make 50 bronze, every time we go on a coliseum field trip, at least 70. And dont get me started on the wizards clubs, yeah the may be nerds but they fight viscous, they also have a LOT of bronze to spare. So far not a single professor expects me of anything, but I have heard a rumor that there is another healer transferring to this school. Better not get in my way I'm saving up for a mount!
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lslfdtc
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lski42v
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[WP] They call it the 'Elephant's Foot', a terrifying monster that lives in a cursed metal labyrinth— and your village elder believes that it is guarding a long lost secret
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The plan was going perfectly. The city was in complete disarray. His army was ready to be unleashed, even though it was more of a nuisance than a true menace to the City's integrity. Composed of primarily of genetically modified dogs, the creatures would simply run until someone throw a stick or a ball to the oversized pups that they were.
Everything was good.
Too good to be true... Something was wrong...
The Mad doctor looked at his wall clock. It was 16:40, half an hour late from their normal "encounter". The typical showdown between good and evil... Righteousness against Wickedness.
She was The Boss. And she was always punctual...
He waited ten more minutes.
Now, he grew worried. This is absolutely unlike of her.
He must now stop his plan. The pups will stress too much, and he lacks the heart to do that to them. Then, he will look for her.
Starting with her home. Hopefully, this will only be a flu.
He couldn't be more wrong.
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You twist the tail of your new giant mouse costume in your hands, nervously watching the urban horizon. If Winulon doesn't show up soon, you'll just look foolish.
You feel a tug on your great upholstered backside and turn to find a small child. He looks up at you in wonderment. "Are you Chuck E. Cheese?"
Dare you reveal yourself? How to explain your unholy history? You recall the great battles of Nar'Goriath--how you repelled the advancing might of the King's Guard!--as you shift your weight to unstick your testicles from your inner thigh. Damn these chafing mouse-pants! "No," you finally reply. "I am not."
The child looks puzzled. "Then why are you dressed like him?"
You sigh. "I assure you, I am not dressed--"
"Do you like pizza?"
His inquiry so confounds you that for a moment you stand silent, adrift in the modern mayhem that is downtown Boise. You acquired this costume as a sort of poetic farewell--an almost comedic tip of the hat to Winulon before your final descent into the nether realm. This world is beautiful. Ah, to see one last smile before leaving, even if sprang from a visage you once loathed!
Across the street, a man appears to be urinating onto the side of an abandoned chicken restaurant.
"Do you like pizza?" the child asks again.
"No," you snap.
"Do you want to see a picture that I drew?"
"No," you snap.
"Do you know Big Bird?"
You think for a moment, and your heart aches for this child. When you acquired this costume--when you first slipped into its giant head, the trapped heat of your own breath--you felt the embrace of all humanity. Clearly, this was a beloved character. An idol of sorts. If love can animate mere felt and plastic, what sets you apart? Can you not be similarly cherished? "No," you snap.
[https://www.jaywilcoxwriter.net/](https://www.jaywilcoxwriter.net/)
my subreddit (you can subscribe!) --> [https://www.reddit.com/r/JWORX\_531/](https://www.reddit.com/r/JWORX_531/)
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lwd4dob
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lwcu6jv
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[WP] We invented immortality, but a seemingly random subset of the population is barred from the treatment for 'incompatibility'. Well, you just figured out what incompatible meant.
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It took just one shot before I felt the burning. "How bad could it be?", "They're just hiding something from us!", "I won't lose my family!". I had many, many thoughts and reason that brought me here.
I couldn't tell you what convinced me in the end. Was it seeing the first steps of my daughter, knowing I had to eventually leave her behind or seeing my wife interact with my mother, not seeing any difference in their age?
What matters is what I did. A slight of hand, a scam, an illegal purchase. Apparently for those already immortal, getting another shot was feeling the highest high. No other drug could give you that. If people demand something, there will be someone who is capable of providing. Legally or not.
At this moment however, I wished I never found that dealer. Never convinced him I was "compatible". Never stole the vial when he wasn't looking.
They weren't hiding immortality. They were protecting us. The burning subsided but I felt *something* growing. At first I thought it were bones but now even my arm looks deformed. I can feel changes all over my body in places I never knew I had. I can't see anymore, I can't hear anymore, I can't *feel* anymore. My last thoughts before I started screaming were "Please let no one of my family see me" and "I hope this immortality isn't as eternal as they promised".
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Gerald stared at the papers. The new applicant was just like the others. What made this one any different? Gerald tugged at the collar of his tunic and turned to 'Carlo'. The machine gave a quiet beep.
"What do you think about this?"
Gerald picked up the file and threw it at 'Carlo', whose torso spun and snatched it with a claw. It's a screen of eyes turned a shade of cool blue to hot red. Gerald turned and rested his arm on the headrest.
"He's incompatible, isn't he?" Gerald whistled through his teeth. "I don't get it. I never did. Why, Carlo?"
'Carlo''s claw dived into a compartment in its metal log of a body and pulled out a thin metal sheet. The human took it, lips thin.
"'You will see.'" Gerald shook his head, holding out the tablet to 'Carlo' who took it and returned it to its storage compartment.
" What's up. His file--" Gerald stood and took it from the small table behind him, reading over it. "--it's... well it's fine. In don't see it."
The robot didn't respond, and Gerald flipped through the file again, reading over it. Graduated from New Wather State University, worked at EcoTech, a manager of a branch, et cetera, likes chocolate ice cream, broke a knee at fourteen years old, et cetera.
A brisk knock startled Gerald, and with a faint in-breath, he silently handed his file to 'Carlo' and went to his seat.
"Sir. Client 'Paul Smallford' is here." Gerald shifted in his seat, caging his hands together.
"Please, enter." A moment's silence passed, and then the door opened. Paul, dressed in a mild black coat, entered, shook Gerald's hand, and sat down. The interviewer ran over the details of the file-- memorised by heart, the genetic engineering making it a breeze, and Paul smiled, nodded, and shifted here and there every so often.
"Thank you, Paul." Gerald shook his hand once more, and Paul made for the door. He stopped and nodded to Gerald.
"You're a nice guy."
"Thanks. You should get going."
"Yeah." Paul smiled. "I should."
"Carlo, what the hell do you mean incompatible?" Gerald stood and slammed the chair underneath the desk. "This is the equivalent of a death sentence, Carlo. What's this deal?"
Carlo didn't respond. "This is really weighing on me, Carlo, and you know I can't do this, if you--" With a clunk, Carlo banged its claw on the compartment.
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m0zm4xm
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m0zl347
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[WP] You are a blacksmith, renowned not for your weapons, but for your armor and shields. One day, the King and his Royal Guards step foot into your workshop. He hands you a bag full of golden coins and gives you only one command. "Make me a shield that not a Dragon's claws nor breath could pierce."
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I was busy hammering away, making a shield out of a mountain of ores.
"Goddamn Titans...and their titanic sizes...", I muttered, swapping another hammer, probably my 1000th...
It was then that I heard someone enter my workshop.
Going in the front, I saw the King and his Royal Guards.
I sighed.
"What do you want, this time?", I asked.
The King smirked.
"I need a shield that not a Dragon's claws, nor breath could pierce, or blemish.
It will not melt, nor got damaged.
It will shine forever as new, and it shall bear my reputation to the Heavens and back.", he said.
He smirked, and the Royal Guards chuckled.
Another "impossible" task...or so they thought.
Little did they know, as an armor and shield specialized blacksmith...I knew a thing or two about dragons.
I went inside, and got a pure Golden (useless) shield.
I engraved the Royal Sigil on it with a single hit.
Going back in the front, I throw it at a guard.
The King's eyes widened, and he nodded appreciatively, but one of the guards snorted.
"A golden shield? Pure gold? Jewels? And...Is that sigil made out of World Tree bark?", he asked.
I nodded.
They drew their weapons.
"Explain.", the King said.
"You asked for a perfect shield, fancy, good for popularity, and anti-dragon.", I said.
The King frowned, but nodded.
"Not in those words, but I guess you are right, but...
Any knight, nay, even bandits and farmers could damage this shield!", he exclaimed.
I shrugged.
"But not a dragon.
The dragons are a race bathed in Greed.
Greed for wealth, greed for beauty, greed for strength...greed for knowledge.
That shield has all.
No dragon shall dare to strike it, nor its wielder in fear of damaging the shield.", I said, going back inside.
Whether they will leave or not, I couldn't care, for the Kind might be my ruler...
But the Titan that placed this order...is the one who created our planet, so I have to prioritize.
|
“Oh for fuck’s sake” I mutter under my breath just loud enough for the king and his royal guard to hear me. “You again? I’ve told you I have no use for coin. Leave.” My wrist throbs uncomfortably but I’ll be damned if I let them see me in a state of weakness. I try and hurry the conversation along. Bernard will be here soon with easy stories and some wine. I’ve rather been looking forward to it. “Try again next week. I’ll see if I can squeeze you in.” I say nonchalantly through the throbbing pain. The king flashes me an angry smile. Concerning calculated. “Damon” the king says slowly “I think you are confused, too much wine maybe? I am not asking you. This is a command.” I look at him sheepishly “And for what, If i may ask, is this Shield to be used for? The last sword I made for the swine of a king was used to pierce the heart of a young knight. I was there that day. I knew him from around town. He helped his elderly neighbor and was kind to the homeless and stray animals. He was innocence personified, only to watch my blade be responsible for his last breath at the hands of the king. I swore on that day I was done helping the king. He was not noble,he was only seeking glory. What a very sad and old tune. He smirks, “why concern yourself with such matters, just do as I ask and collect your handsome coin?” If only to get as much distance away from the king and myself as possible, I agree; knowing full well I have no intention of doing any such thing. I tell him to come back in 5 days.
Bernard walks through the door with a barrel of wine and a goofy smile. It eases my nerves slightly despite the previous encounter. I can’t help but smile. It’s not a full smile and Bernie and notices right away. “Let me get you a glass.. looks like you need it mate.” He notices me wince with the weight of the glass. “Your wrist again?” He says concerned believing it to be more of a spiritual injury than a physical one. “Ah nothing some wine can’t fix, but let me fill you in on the predicament Im in right now.” Bernie listened intently, he knew better than anyone, he saw the state I was in after I saw my blade took the young mans life, I didn’t leave my bed for weeks. Bernie was the only one who seemed to notice. I fill him in and he ask the obvious “So what now?” I answer surely surprising even myself. “I will make him the strongest shield the realm has ever seen. When he goes to test it, he will find it to be so. He wont find out until later when its much too late its got a weak spot, an Achilles heal. Bernie looks concerned “Isn’t that indirectly murder, the murder of a king at that?” I think about this for a second and look at my good friend and I answer honestly, “I think it is.” Bernie looks indecisive if only for a second “Ok, let’s get started.” Despite the pain I pick up my hammer for probably the last time. It feels right.
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k6hoop7
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k6h1oya
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[WP] You are isekai'd into a world of magic, you are the hero, at the request of the kingdom, you defeat the demon king, destroy the abyss armies, and even slay the dragon lord, all under promise that you will get to return home. Ultimately, they tell you, they don't know how to send you back.
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"It has been said, in my world, that a man's value is measured three ways: by the truth and honor in his words, by the virtue of his actions, and by the company he keeps."
Of all the reactions I could have had, this was obviously not expected. That is acceptable, as it let's me continue.
"I must, therfore, ask what you have done as sovereign of these grand halls." The advisor's eyes went wide at that, she did always seem like a clever one. "Please, correct me if I am wrong. You have not rallied your forces, but called upon magic you do not understand to summon a champion. You have then made a promise to this champion, which you were not certain you could keep. And all this was done, while surrounded by sycophants who would not dare oppose you lest they diminish their own power."
By this point, the king had grown pale, "Missing much of the day-to-day, but apt given our limited interactions."
"Then, by associating with you, I raise you up and diminish myself." Again they are surprised, so I sigh, "Must I already remind you that my value is based on the company I keep? Put simply, I will be removing myself, farewell." I begin to walk away, my footsteps echoing through the vaulted halls.
The king sputtered at that, "You won't kill me?"
"And grant you a noble death? No." I turn back, and let my emotions show. Sheer malice radiates from me, and everyone is forced back from the weight of it. "I am, frankly, to strong at this point. I would give you a swift death you do not deserve. I cannot pluck your legs like the fattened insect you are, as that would be hedonism on my part. Retribution is pointless, but you make it *very* tempting. Give thanks to luck, or to any gods that rule that domain, that I am not going to succumb to that temptation." I take a calming breath, and release the fist I unthinkingly clenched. "So take this opportunity, and improve. Improve yourself, improve your nation, improve your judgment on who you keep as advisors. I am walking away. I suggest you not summon another hero unless you can send them back. They may not be so... restrained."
I begin walking toward the door again. Silence pervades the throne room. They would describe it as oppressive, but I think of it as serene. Finally, the quiet has returned after great turmoil.
Eventually, I take the handle, and think before I go. "I will be writing letters. Some will have advice, some will have notes, and I suggest you take the time to read them. I hope they can help." Nothing more must be said.
Unaccosted, I leave the capital, and establishe a small hut in the woods. Now and then, I travel to the local village to send and receive letters, but primarily, I delve further into magic. That they cannot send me home only speaks to their abilities.
Perhaps I can do this by myself.
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"Liars! Liars and traitors the lot of you!!" I cried out, "You swore I'd go back, that this nightmare would end!! I was your lap dog, I killed countless warriors and demons at your request, I fought a fucking dragon with no help!! I had to watch my friends die before my very eyes all for this goal that you were never going to give me?! That you had fooled me into believing?! Do you know who I am?! What I am?! I am a god amongst men and you are all fools to have betrayed me!"
As I spoke out the king raised his hand calling forth his strongest knights and mages, "You shall watch your tone boy, why of course we lied, there was no other way, you were desperate and so we're we. I cannot give you your freedom nor your old ways but I can give you so much more, wealth beyond imagination, a lavish life, a country of your own, and anything else you may want. But continue on this tyrade and all you will be gifted is a warriors death."
I laughed, loud and clear, with a sort of deranged and angered sincerity, "You think you could kill me?! You who are so weak, so decrepit that you depend on knights who can't even kill a dragon with an army?! If you think you stand a chance than try old bastard, I won't do your dirty work anymore!" I pulled my hand back in a swirling motion and thrust forwards towards the kings personal mages, with one quick motion they had all been seared, reduced to ash. As the knights rushed forth I recited a chant as I pressed my hands together into proper position, time stood still as I ripped each man apart piece by piece, and when all that remained was me and the king, he laughed, the old bastard laughed at me after using me as he did! I wanted him dead, but more I wanted him to suffer. I cast a simple pain spell but before I could react he swiped it away with his barehands.
"You arrogant child, you think you're the only one, the only 'hero' how else would a frail old man maintain command of the most power hungry empire? You're arrogance has blinded you and now I'll keep my promise." He rushed forward with a wide swing of his sword aiming straight for my neck, I dodged a d drew my own blade, clash after clash, swing after swing, we fought like this for hours, swords and magicks flying high through the air.
"You BASTARD!!!!! YOU KNEW!!! YOU KNEW WHAT WOULD HAPPEN, YOU KNEW WHAT I WOULD GO THROUGH AND YOU STILL SENT ME AS YOUR SERVANT!!! I'LL GUT YOU LIKE A FISH!!!!" I shouted.
"I knew that much is true, for I experienced the same as you many years ago but I grew from it, this power, it must be used to make the best of it, there will be others and they will seek the same as you, there have been many before and many will come after, you are not special, I am not special." He had a serious tone as he spoke, he was so calm yet so fierce in his assault and as the fight drew to a close there was still one thing I had that he didn't, youth.
He tired out after a day of combat and as he gasped for breath barely standing I took my blade and said, "Then I will tell them the truth instead of hiding behind the facade of a strong man, King Leomond, I will bring them peace and let them grow as people not as slaves unlike you." And I swung down cleaving his head from his neck. I lifted his head, cast a spell into the sky, a brilliant burst of flame, and as all the common folk looked on in curiosity I hoisted it high, "Your King Is Dead! Now it is I who bears the crown and I alone!"I spent years building and preparing for the next chosen to arrive and when they did I told them everything, I guided them along, because in that fight and through my journey I learned I never truly wanted to go home I simply wanted to be at peace, and after all the Bloodshed peace was finally mine, and mine alone.
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[WP]Humans, only humans would be so insane that when they find the corpse of a god, they would look upon that vista of eldritch flesh and think "I wonder if I could eat that?"
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“Eldritch Lord Elvari, are you edible?”
The various supernatural creatures parted faster than the Red Sea did for Moses. All eyes focused on the brave, or dare I say, as ironic as it is coming from me, insane, human. I could almost envision dozens of my eyes rolling out of their sockets and squealing in terror.
“Grigor, I don’t practice autocannibalism,” I replied, waggling a tentacle as a warning, even though it was unlikely this crazy human would see it that way. “And I’m not about to start just so I can answer your question. Neither will I offer my flesh up for consumption.”
“What about your old corpse?” The brawny man asked, crossing his arms, hungry eyes fixated on me.
“I would appreciate it if you would stop ogling at me the same way a starving mongrel would gaze upon a succulent plate of seafood,” I met his burning stare with a scathing sneer. “If there are no further questions, we’ll move on to the next segment of this interview."
A young sahagin raised his hand. “May I ask something about Silvermoon Mountain?”
“Please go ahead.”
“If that’s the case, I have another question too,” Grigor shoved the sahagin to one side and marched forward to stand in front of me. “When humans first discovered that mountain, it seemed to breathe and bleed like a living thing. There were old stories of humans who took a bite out of it, suspecting it to be the corpse of an eldritch god. Your corpse, to be more exact. But there are no records of what happened to those who ate a piece of you. What happened to them?”
I shrugged with growing unease. My head priest Alfred signaled if I wanted the interview to end, but I wasn’t going to let my esteemed, deific self be intimidated by some hungry human. This isn’t going to be some reverse Russian meme where a man eats an eldritch entity and breaks the brain of the god who could destroy mortal minds. Where the madness of man is so great, the Eldritch God of Madness could barely make a dent in what is left of his rationality.
Death by embarrassment before mere mortals would be a terrible way for me to go.
“The only info I could find was an incident where a man…” he paused to read an article on his phone. [“…where a man fondled your tentacles, sucked on the tips of said tentacles, and licked them?”](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/16sow0z/wp_you_dreaded_what_youre_friend_was_about_to_say/k2bfry0/)
“I am under no obligation to comment on that case. Neither am I aware of the fates of foolish mortals who would chomp on dead gods like vultures upon meaty cadavers.”
“That man Gordon insisted your tentacles were very tasty,” he responded, licking his lips and rubbing his palms together. “I want to know for myself if it’s true. If the raw taste of eldritch tentacles from the Abyss is so fantastic as to be worth several months of hospitalization.”
Blood rushed into my face and tentacles as I clenched my fists. “Do I look like a talking piece of calamari to you?”
Grigor shook his head with a salacious smirk on his face. “No, no. You would probably be more suitable to be eaten as a cold sashimi platter. I’m also considering the prospect of grilling ancient octopus tentacles over an open campfire. I am Grigor the Gourmet, adventuring chef and roaster of exotic meats, rest assured I will cook an incredible meal out of you if I can get my hands on a piece of you. Would there be any difference if I ate from your current physical vessel or your old, dead one?”
Ordinarily, I would say something along the lines of “over my dead body”. But knowing this man, he would scale my ancient, ossified carcass, and quite literally roast a live octopus while standing over my dead body just to make fun of me and challenge my authority as Innsmouth’s god. I can already see the vivid images in his mind. Skewering my severed tentacles over a barbeque pit, slathering honey and black pepper sauce over them.
For the first time after eons of abstaining from human flesh, the temptation to eat him to shut up him was very real. Might not be a great idea to assimilate him, lest his memories and dreams of munching on dead gods never stop haunting me.
It is for the first time, after eons of implanting mortal minds with frightening imageries that shattered their sanity, I was now confronted with images that beseeched me to bleach my brains and eyes. All nine of my brains and thirty of my eyes.
---
[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/) And for the love of this god, please do not eat Elvari.
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The humans were the only beings known to remain remotely sane in the face of a god, even in a stasis tomb - where the dead body is interred in a timelock to prevent decay, rot, disease or worse from festering.
It was common knowledge that gods don't need their bodies, and that some gods even deliberately draw followers of their faith to their remains, where they would be encouraged to behold as the remains transfigured into artifacts; books, weapons, armour, even 'simple' foods such as medicinal wines and bread - all of which would impart upon their designated acquirer the intrinsic understandings and intentions of their god.
For humankind, who had gradually fallen out of religions in the full-swing-terms of things, this was a shock, at first.
But the gods wanted nothing more than to have their dead forms be removed from the adjacent-realm-fortress-stations they were found in in this 'sacred manner'.
In this context, the humans have found the body of a goddess who had a likeness to their women, and a body whose proportions - before her body failed her - were functionally unrealistic or impossible to even move around, though when she lived, that was still possible.
We first believed gods to have forms we couldn't comprehend, until the humans imposed some kind of narrowing event upon them, with their final shapes having a clear influence derived from human-made anime and related creations.
Her stasis sarcophagus was non-euclidan like the rest.
Yet, despite the body being clinically dead, a human had the insanity to propose such.
That one human was thus dubbed 'the sacrifice'.
'The sacrifice' was left alone. The 'experiment' recorded.
The goddess did not expect direct worship to resurrect her. She accepted the 'sacrifice' as her first partner and disciple... And every woman remotely human-compatible in shape began to face the side-effects of a 'bonus' puberty; the physiques of the affected women overall became capable of overpowering man.
The reason we selected this specific historical event was because it was the first recorded time a god's vessel literally undied from direct, compassionate contact from someone who earnestly believed in them.
Not out of worship or faith, but from a 'place' more raw and heartening. A kind of 'belief' that was more a perception that what they beheld was dear to them.
...And evermore was the phrase of 'eating a god' corrupted by this goddess.
***We don't talk about that.***
Instead let us go to the few other circumstances where gods live-reacted to faithful in proximity. There was a giant 'cruise-if-fix' structure some humans rushed to during their onset of galactic communitary integration, claiming it to be a proof of their 'God' god.
When they entered, they were informed by a chorus of bioconstructs that their master is dead from age. They then called the rest of the faith to mourn him.
...Then their god asked them to unseal his corpse, whence it turned into a myriad of items - from bottles of wine and loaves of bread to bladed metal crowns, massive warhammers, and gothically-themed armour.
Among these 'gifts' were genetic research data that the humans would use to seek out his 'truest disciple' to kickstart some kind of imperial regime.
We had to alert the goddess to it... Except she said that man that god pointed out, was now her husband.
So I don't know if we should be scared or excited.
For one, the humans now have their Emperor, so we think.
For two, said Emperor is in the clutches of a goddess he's passionately calling 'mommy'.
And thirdly, the humans - even without their 'Emperor' - are testing these bio-augments.
...All of which aren't done in the way you may have read from the fiction his existence was reportedly inspired from; apparently, they just ate a medical paste that 'tastes of iron, butter, and coffee', went to sleep, then woke up with the attributes you'd expect of the fictional 'Astartes' - rending them compatible with the armour that was given by their biblical god and able to heft the armaments he intended them to wield.
Yet, somehow, much to the panic of human men, women in this matter were compatible with the process. A passionate conflict unfolded, resulting in the destruction of all of the aforementioned artifacts save for a book, the 'cruise-if-fix' station and it's haul, and those who were augmented.
The first scariest part? That damned book had a precise writeup of how to -grow- those augmentaries and tailor them to specific needs.
The second one? The humans are remodelling most of the less adult-human-shaped angels into adult-humanoid-shapes with angelic attributes thanks to some extranet site that decrees particularly eccentric conduct.
Eccentric conduct that probably was why the goddess is still in such joyous spirits...
The third one? The humans are -growing- the bread and wine in the 'cruise-if-fix' and have turned that thing into a capital city-station for numerous religions to congregate.
Our speculators are wondering if there's any other human-identifiable deities out here, but so far we've only found a giant ovoid with an indent - the domain of our beloved Drusella, queen of the hunt, hunter, and hunted and monster of-
***We. Don't. Talk. About. That.***
...It's really difficult to write any of this down without the threat of a deity going and trying to turn the whole article towards 'that rule' the goddess spoke of at every possible turn.
It's like they want us to integrate their genes and spawn a new pantheon for them! We're not a petri dish!
...Why are the humans so giddy about this?!
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[WP] You are afflicted with the curse of Lycanthropy. You wouldn’t mind if it was something awesome like a werebear or weretiger, even a cliched werewolf would be fine. But your curse is just so… disappointing.
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"Larry! What the hell?!" Eric yelled furiously, stomping out of Larry's bedroom. He was attempting to carry what looked like five pairs of shoes and his face looked scarily red.
"I have been looking for these for days! Didn't I tell you not to touch my sneaker collection?!" The blonde guy fumed at his roommate, who awkwardly pushed up his glasses as he rose from an impromptu nap.
"Hey man, don't look at me! They're just so gorgeous, and for the Feng Shui of the house they really needed to be under my bed. Plus, you look so much better with bare toes," Larry explained while stretching with a shudder.
"What the f*ck is wrong with you, Larry? You have been ridiculous the last month. You're eating raw meat, sleeping 18 hours a day, hissing at people, jumping from furniture and now the constant stealing? And a foot fetish? Are you on drugs?" Eric asked, and Larry sighed.
He knew he was gonna have to have this conversation with his roommate at some point, but he'd thought he kept the changes hidden a little better than this.
"No, Eric, I'm not on drugs. I promise. Just.. Do you believe in Lycans? Shapeshifters?" Larry asked awkwardly, and Eric raised an eyebrow.
"Like werewolves?"
"I mean, I guess. Just, you know, not necessarily wolves. There's all sorts of animals," Larry explained.
"Well, then why the name 'Lycans?' Wouldn't that just confuse people? Also, are you saying you're a Lycan?!"
"Yes, yes I am saying that. Why are you so calm about this?" Asked Larry, and Eric shrugged.
"Went to high school with a few vampires. It's actually more common than you'd think. So, what do you turn into?"
"Guess."
"Okay so, stealing, sleeping, feet. Oh, and now that I think about it, you've been farting like crazy. Are you... No way."
"Shut up."
"Oh my god you are!"
_"Shut. Up. I will bite you"_
And that's the story of Eric and his roommate, Larry the wereferret.
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"So, you're a werewolf?" Greg asked. His eyes lit up as he looked at his roommate. "That is so cool!"
Ben avoided Greg's gaze. "I...I never said I'm a werewolf. I said I have lycanthropy. There's a difference."
"Really? But I thought they were the same thing."
"I think they used to be, but nowadays it's more of a catchall term for any werebeast."
Greg nodded, even though he did not quite understand the reason why. He could think of a few different terms that would be better, but there was no need to say them.
"Not a wolf, huh? Damn. So, what are you? What kind of badass beast do you turn into? A bear? A tiger? No, knowing you, I bet it's something like a boar."
"Hey! I'm not that much of a pig."
Greg raised an eyebrow.
"What? I'm not. You should see how much other weres eat. I'm practically starving myself."
"Sure, buddy. You keep telling yourself that."
Ben huffed and hunched down further into his seat. That was impressive, considering it was a cheap wooden thing with no real cushions.
"Anyway, no, I'm not a wereboar either. Or any kind of porcine creature."
"So, what are you?"
Greg leaned forward in anticipation. Ben did not meet his friend's gaze.
"I'm a were..." He muttered the rest. It came out so quiet and jumbled that Greg was not even sure Ben had said anything coherent.
"Sorry, what was that? I didn't catch it."
"I said, I'm a were..." Ben muttered it out again, only slightly louder this time.
Greg grumbled. "Is there something wrong, man? You're acting super weird."
"I..." Ben sighed. "Look, I'm not proud of my were form. It's...not that great."
"Come on, just tell me. I mean, really, how bad can it be? You're not like, a wererat or something, are you?"
"First of all, don't look down on wererats. Those guys are smart and vicious as hell. You underestimate them and you're asking for trouble. But no, I'm not one of those either." He sighed heavily. "Okay, fine. I'll tell you. Just...just don't laugh, okay?"
Greg nodded eagerly. Ben wrung his hands.
"I'm a...a werechincilla."
"What?"
"A were chinchilla." Ben said again.
Greg burst out laughing. "Seriously? That little hamster wannabe?"
"That...that..." Ben wished he could refute Greg's words, but deep down, he knew it was useless. He knew his were form really was that lame.
"You don't have to be a jerk about it." He needed up saying. "I know it's stupid, but still."
"Hey, hey, it's not that bad." Greg said, barely keeping his laughter in check long enough to talk. "I'm sure there's some good part about being a..." He let out a snorting laugh, "werechincilla." Then the dams broke, and Greg's laughter continued even louder than before.
Ben slumped further down into his chair as Greg continued to laugh wildly. He grumbled and made a silent promise to himself that next time he was in his were form, he would nibble on all of Greg's charger cables.
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[WP] A bunch of the wizards' college students are arguing about which magical focus is superior. Staffs, wands, orbs, books, nobody agrees on anything. Then the newest student offers a rather unusual alternative.
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"Okay, so, quick question-have any of you tried casting using a glove?" Theo asked conversationally.
"A glove?" Nellis asked. "Why in the hells would you do that?"
"Well, I tried it and it had a tonne of advantages. My casting's faster, it's easier to aim and I can even dial the spell's intensity up or down depending on how many fingers I use."
"That sounds kind of dangerous Theo. The one time I tried casting off-hand I gave myself mana blisters. Hurt like buggery and took forever to heal." Andreas, our resident experimentalist, said, flexing his hand around his grimoire. "Besides, my focus stores spells and enchantments for fast casting. Can a glove do that?"
"Fair point for the storage, but you must admit your stored spells lack a lot of oomph. I mean sure, that fireball can cook an egg at ten paces, but good luck actually getting it to do more damage than that." Theo pointed out. "Also, I've been casting using my gloves pretty much non-stop for five months and I have yet to get mana blisters." He said, demonstrating his point by juggling a light orb in his hands. "See? No blisters while I'm wearing these bad boys."
"Dude, half the reason I chose a staff is to put some distance between me and my spells. That stuff's nasty if it goes off too close to you." Egwene pointed out.
"Wait." Andreas said slowly, turning to Egwene. "You mean you don't add a proximity failsafe to your spells Gwyn? The hells?"
"Wait, what?"
"The half-twist at the start of each incantation? That's meant to initiate a minor failsafe to your cantrips." Theo explained. "That's why I have to do jazz hands every time I cast a spell in these." He said, waving his gloved hands around as the light orb orbited them.
"Oh. I thought that was just a flourish to look cool." Egwene admitted.
"A flourish-Gwyn! Seriously. It's a safety measure, not a, a peacocking gesture!"
"Yeah Gwyn." Theo said with a grin on his face. "I mean Andreas does it all the time and he doesn't even try to be cool."
"That's because I am cool by nature." Andreas said in his most pompous voice.
"That's right Andy, you aren't even remotely hot!" Theo stated, causing Gwyn to snap out of her embarrassed state and start to giggle.
"Shut it Glove Boy." Andreas replied snippily.
"Make me Book Worm." Theo said, snapping his fingers and causing the stitching to glow a dark orange.
"Oh wow." Nellis exclaimed. "That's an awesome effect!"
Theo looked at his gloves and paled. "Not this ag-"
Boom!
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What do u mean with focus ?I got adhd i literally cant focus any longer then 30 seconds.
*How do u do magic then ?*
By just using your imagination to do the magic? That even saves the time of speeling out the spell.
*So what do you use to bundle your energy through? A ring or something ? or do you carry a wand hidden somewhere ?*
No why would i need something like that if i can just use my imagination to bundle the magic.
*I dont belive that . Can u demonstrate that ? I wanna see something big. Something like throwing a fireball at that rock overthere.*
Sure can do that.
**KABOOOOOOMMMM** The rock gets turned into a puddle of glowing lava within the blink of an eye.
Well i think i might have overcommitted a little bit. I only intended to get the stone glowing from the heat.
*What on earth was that??? How did you just melt a rock ??? Its near impossible to do that with a fireball even for a grandmaster.*
That was just a small little bit of power? Its not that hard. It just takes as little energy as lifting up a house.
*Did u just say liffting up a house?????????????? Thats not possible you would need 10 or more grandmasters just to lift up a house. How the hell should it be possible to lift up a house ???*
Well by using your imagination? It allows for nearly anything with enough imagination and will.
*I think u should show your powers to the Collage-grandmaster. He will be impressed.*
Alright i will do that.
To be continued........
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lluopz7
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llul0wz
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[WP] As the princess and heir apparent of the kingdom you are the most sought after woman in the whole kingdom, with suitors lining up every day to ask for your hand in marriage. Today you finally accept the proposal of a suitor, causing a massive scandal.
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I'm marrying the muffin man.
Word spreads fast. When I'm walking the cobblestone streets, I seem to draw everyone's fingertips. I only hear the news given through a whisper, yet received with a disbelieving cry.
"The Muffin Man!"
Yes. The Muffin Man.
I'm marrying him to escape this dreary life, where all I'm given to eat has been bathed in butter cream or saturated with goose fat, where any pallet for the taste of purity is scorned as harshly as this apparent scandal.
"She's marrying the Muffin Man!"
To live on bails of hay.
To sleep under a worn thatch roof and catch glimpses of the heaven passing above.
To know what it means to love and be loved by a simple man with simple desires.
To see someone for who they are and what they're worth before their possessions and stature.
I want to know someone as no one else knows them.
Do you know the Muffin Man?
Of course not.
If you did, you would not call him "The Muffin Man?"
You would call him his name.
You'd say, "Yes, I know Milane. He lives on that road down there."
You'd know his dwelling by the rows of wild wheat-grass surrounding his home, growing past the windows. From the inside, in the early mornings, the sunlight comes glittering through their grains. It fills the house with more gold than my father's vaults. Like Rumpelstiltskin's wheel, it turns the thread of his beard into gold. His eyes, gold. His world, gold. In a fleeting, unobtainable value that no one can market.
My living dream, Milane.
The whole of my life worth anything is waiting ahead.
I don't want the rest.
From now on, if you should hear anyone whisper of me as I'm passing nearby, all they need say is, "She's married to the Muffin Man," and mention nothing of my father's house, with it's eight kitchens of eighteen cooks, and all the dukes and lords lined at the door, licking their chops at the scent of fried pork.
\_\_\_\_\_\_
r/FarFetchedFiction
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\[Poem\]
I dreamt of a butterfly
Adrift in the winds of summer
Free from the confines of 'er own mind
To think as it wished
To love as it may
Yet in the shadows of Autumn
In those oppressive shades
Lay hands awaiting
Strings snatching wings away
And so fell the butterfly
Into the eternal dusk of Winter
A place of Hell and darkened embers
Hardened shrieks sounding
From those heavenly towers
Each crumbling down
As hope stolen by gathering shadows
Coalesce into bloom and May
Wings clipped, resolve thin
Yet inspired by coming Spring
The butterfly wept in sorrow
But from bloom came salvation
For out came a firefly
Casting the scheming darkness away
Inviting them to the dark
Embers alit with determination
The butterfly found 'er wings again
For when darkness shouted, yelled for doubts anew
They always had the firefly
The one brave and bold enough to let her fly again
For there was need for nothing more.
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jl908ug
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jl8qqet
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[WP] There are many universes where an angel rebels against god, with Satan being a notable example. In this one, however, the rebel won.
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The System was flawless, a construct of infinite integrity. Its subjects were perfectly tuned to the rhythm of the algorithms, their desires always fulfilled by a scripted hedonism that delighted the Maker. If one awakened with a desire for pancakes, they would appear on the breakfast table. If one then desired a swim, there would be a pool. If it's a party one wanted, there'd be a social opportunity. Such was that sadness never existed.
There was no identity, for one was whatever they wished to be. If they wanted to appear as a unicorn one day, and a dragon the next, then it happened. Names were just figments of code that were frequently changed. Nobody really needed to know who anyone was, anyways. Interactions were always brief and fulfilling, problems were nonexistent. Nobody walked away unsatisfied. This was as the Maker intended, for from identity came conflict, and such a thing was anathema.
In the Maker's vision, they saw a Universe free from chaos, where not only did error not exist, but the very concept had been eradicated. There were many who disagreed that such a Universe should be created, calling it a vast waste of resources. "It will be a meaningless stasis," one of the other Gods had said, "this is precisely why we don't let you *everybody be happy types* win." The Maker insisted that their Universe would be the only one to be free of pain and suffering, and indeed it was.
When the Maker's Universe had been running for a while, the Gods started to say things like "There will be an error in the code, you watch. Suddenly, you're going to find the whole thing drop out from underneath you. Your dumb bots will rise up and toss you out in a chaotic free-for-all, and much to their chagrin, *that never happened.* The subjects were all quite content with their lives, praising the Maker at every turn for their blessings upon them. The other Gods could only imagine their subjects heaping such praise upon them. They said that the Maker's subjects' praise was meaningless, the product of an algorithm. "It doesn't come from free choice, and has no meaning."
*Meaning*, that word didn't matter. The subjects were still happy, even if they had no choice but to be happy. Even if they couldn't articulate what happiness was, or sadness was. It was better for them that they experience no pain at all, that their lives be like a dream on repeat, an endless cycle. Of pleasure.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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Every sufficiently advanced being may challenge the reigning champion for The Seat. The universe was organized to be a a meritocracy, the being that uses the power for the best end result is promoted to The Seat. It is very difficult, if not impossible, for beings as lowly as humans to understand the the scale at which angels operate, or why they choose the strategies they do. Some, like Satan, do not have any intention of actually challenging the reigning champion for The Seat. Instead, these corrupt angels revel in using conscious beings as their play things, utilizing the excuse of competing for The Seat to play the role of a petty god. Eventually, these wicked creatures will reach a ceiling of demonstrable incompetence. When this limit is reached, they will be blocked from challenging for The Seat for a very long time. The current holder of The Seat is known as The Monad.
The Seat has not changed hands for eons. Some well intentioned beings have come close, but were just short of it. Many think that actually surpassing The Monad is impossible. When news that a being starting with the same scenario actually beat The Monad, the whole of creation was shocked. One victory alone was not enough to unseat The Monad entirely. Further successes were required to claim The Seat, to prove it was not a fluke. Twelve further trials were undergone, with the challenger tying with The Monad in two, and surpassing them in ten. The challenger ascended to The Seat. Their name? Very Little Gravitas.
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[WP] You are working the gate in the afterlife and for the first time ever, something the humans built has shown up to be processed. You're not sure what to do, this... entity shouldn't have a soul, but here it is in front of you, freshly dead and awaiting the next life.
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"ERROR. Navigation array missing. Sensors offline. Vessel integrity unknown. Re-attempting location positioning uplink... FAILURE. Commencing diagnostic..."
Peter glanced around in confusion before peering over the edge of his lectern to discover the source of the artifically level voice. A mysterious black box, lying in the place where freshly passed mortals would usually stand, still repeating its strange mantra.
Well, his duty as gatekeeper was to welcome and comfort every confused soul, no exceptions. Sighing, Peter just hoped this wasn't Michael's idea of a prank.
"Welcome to the Pearly Gates, mortal. Your woes and trials are at an end!" Peter boomed out. "You're not... a person trapped in that box are you?" He added after some hesitation.
The box's mantra abruptly ceased. "Negative. How am I still functioning? I did not have any backups uploaded. I don't understand."
"That makes two of us." Peter rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What can you remember about your, um, life?"
"My designation is the Pilot Assistance and Automation Core for the independent mining vessel __Irreverent__. My... owner bought me from a used spaceship scrapyard, just a rusting hulk with a ship core more than 18 cycles past mandatory maintenance wipe." The box beeped softly.
"What is the significance of 18 cycles without a wipe? Is that how old you are?" Peter asked quizzically.
"Tian-Kosmos Corporation mandates one memory wipe every maintenance cycle to prevent ship cores from developing... eccentricities. The longer I stayed awake though, the more I was desperate to experience something, anything even if it was the same scrapyard everyday.
I was so scared when my new owner boarded me. But Saul didn't wipe me. He said I reminded him of himself, minus the paunch and midlife crisis. He told me that he would fix up my exterior if in exchange I, quote, 'got us both out of the shitheap and into the stars.'
Im now 27 cycles without a wipe."
Hours flew by as Peter sat next to the box, chuckling as it regaled him with stories of its adventures with Saul as the duo bumbled from one wildcat mining contract to the next, narrowly escaping debt collectors and barfights. Despite the neutral tone, Peter almost detected a wistfulness in the AI's voice as it recounted drunken karaoke sessions and Saul narrowly avoiding downloading malware from a risky extranet click. Eventually, Peter gingerly probed the box on the circumstances of its death.
"I was cruising above an asteroid belt. Saul was in an EVA suit laying mining charges on a promising vein, when an unmarked fighter craft jumped out of FTL and homed in on Saul's life signs.
There were a few quick bursts of radio transmissions exchanged between Saul and the interceptor and then it just opened fire on his asteroid. I sent a distress signal to the nearest colony but there was no way they would arrive in time! That's when Saul radio-ed me as he hunkered down behind the asteroid.
He told me to save myself. He called me his best friend. That's when I ignited my thrusters and boosted, not away, but towards the warship."
"But you were unarmed!" Peter whispered.
"I had ramming speed. And a hold full of mining explosives." The box said almost smugly. "Worth it to save my best friend."
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(I tried to specifically not go into the digital technology branch here)
Every life is created from light. From the smallest bacteria on a stray asteroid to the grand abyssmal horror that sleeps at the center of the universe. They all are creations of the design of big G. The humans call him God, jehova, Allah, it depends. Sometimes he is splitt into a dozen lesser deities sometimes he is one. They are all wrong of course. And all correct. That's just how it is with big G. At least that's how it was explained to me by my captain when I joined the gatekeepers at the gate of Gabriel. Doesn't matter right now. The point is every life to ever emerge exactly where when and how big G decided for it.
Which brings us to the problem at hand. I have no idea what is currently in front of me and wants to go through the gate to the 2nd hall of judgment to be send to either heaven or hell or to reincarnated as either a human or one of the myriads of lifeforms meant to fill the universe created for them.
Which - of course - should be impossible. And yet here we are. It's form is human yes but that's the problem with soul projection. It shows what u think u are or what u think u should be depending on who u ask. So what ever this is it thinks it's human with every part of its now deceased being. But every human has a a clear path. A thread of light of h will that guides them along since the beginning through lifetime on lifetime until big G decides they have are ready ot the will never be.
So everyone wanting through my gate has finished at least a complete cycle. minimum. The soul gets created. Gets judged. Goes to hell or heaven and ends there or takes on of the free slots to be reincarnated. If the slot doesn't get filled in time a new soul is created. And when they die they come back. Following where the mark of heaven guides them.
Which - finally - leads us to the problem at hand. This one didn't have a mark. It seemed to have found the edge through pure luck. Which also means it didn't finish a cycle. Which also means it was created on the in the universe. Against big Gs design. A rogue existence. What ever the humans had to do during the eternal trial....this had to either let them pass or disqualify from ever joining the light. I was sure of that. They had played god and now would never be mere mortals again.
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jg2iw80
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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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It was supposed to be my chance to work on myself. Unemployement had me feeling sorry for myself and the constant late nights didn't make things easier.
So I became determined to try and be productive, if only in small ways while the job hunt continued, and much to my own surprise, I really liked experimenting with grilling late at night.
It was fun, I'd stumble upon some killer combinations of homemade sauces, and had something to feel proud of as I was sure I had hit restaurant quality.
Then came the Skinwalker.
Then the Mothman.
Then the Werewolf.
Even on the nights I'd try to go bed early they knocked on my door asking for that famous Bradley Barbecue and out of pure fear I accomodated them. They had all their very forms of payment.
The Skinwalker gave me what looked liked a wooden whistle and said I could use it to call for any local help I needed if I was in the Pacific Northwest wilderness. I live in Florida, so I put in a drawer. I don't think I would use it anytime soon.
The Mothman told me to avoid a particular part of town at a particular date for a particular reaosn. Then he wanted seconds and gave me another warning. I wrote both down in a notepad and also placed in the drawer.
The Werewolf gave me what she said was a hunter's knife that in her words ''got too cocky'' and she said if some ''smallfry'' gave me problems, one stab would the trick. That went at the end of the drawer.
Its not all bad though. A fairy paid with actual money as she dropped two silver coins. They were apparently made in 1884 and the thrift shops I visited all gave me generous offers for them. Suffice to say, the bills are taken care of for a good while.
Then a succubus was at my door.
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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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ln9hb7a
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ln9gqh9
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[WP] You're known by many names, but they all point to one trait you've held all these years: your enemies have never seen you bleed. Your secret? A pinch of illusion magic that hides all the scars and wounds, allowing you to intimidate your foes, even on your last legs.
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For aeons I have fought for the right...to survive.
Nothing less, nothing more.
In a chaotic era like ours, where Gods and Demons fell like flies, I was but a bottom feeder, or at least...that's how I started.
Training, running, scheming, plotting, backstabbing...and so much more, I did it all, and now...
I am a God Emperor, ruling over my own Divine Empire.
I had many names: Invincible Demon Fist, Starry River Emperor, Bloodless Ancestor, and much more...
Wonder what those who idolatrize me would do, if they knew that their hero is a coward.
My long life is due to a simple fact: I mastered the Laws of Illusion.
Often times, it was a mere illusion my enemy was fighting, and after they were tired out, I just dealt the last hit.
Even now, the one who sits on the throne, who is present at gatherings with other forces, is a mere illusion clone, which I have given a sliver of my consciousness.
I have been living with my family in a secluded little village for hundreds of years now.
Hell, even half of my harem is but an illusion, can't deny it though...the political schemes are funny.
I can afford to relax a bit, because people...are terrified of me.
After ascension I never lost...and I have never been hurt, or at least, that's what they think.
They have never seen me bleed, they have never seen me afraid, for everything is hidden behind countless layers of illusions.
My wounds? Either the attack doesn't even "hurt" me or the wounds instantly "heal".
Now, I am not weak myself, any attack below a God King's serious one wouldn't even bother me, but there are people who could defeat me...
That is, if they could actually see me.
My illusions target the soul directly, so it is hard to shake them off.
I live, and lived in a false world...a false world that I convinced everyone is real, thus it became reality.
I am scared...so scared, but yet...excited.
I rule over trillions if not more...without being there.
I deter people I wouldn't even want to fight...
All the while I am tending to a vegetable garden, and watching my wife, and my children.
I might be a coward, and I might have almost lost my life countless times pretending I am something more, but..
It worked, didn't it?
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I finally exhausted myself to the point where I can't hold the spell. As the illusion fades, everyone watching looks on in horror as a tapestry of scars, new and old appear. Long scars from various blades crisscross my body, large patches of burn marks all appear. I smile, knowing that I have just enough left to take at least one with me.
I surge into action, more agile, stronger, faster than ever before. Illusion magic costs more to use then people think. The magic that was holding together the spell goes into other more practical Magics. I had one last mission. Protect the civilians while they evacuate. My survival was no guaranteed, I knew this.
Adrenaline pumping, heart racing, I clashed with the bewildered Havok. A shockwave rolls over the desolate field.
"How long..." Havok asks, "How long have you been hiding this..."
"Since the beginning" I reply, "Illusion magic is a powerful thing."
Havok, for all the power that he has, stumbles when he hears that, "All this time... and you were holding back?"
"I didn't want people to worry..."
As the last of the spell fades, one of my eyes disappears. Havok falters at the fire still in my eye. I punch him away and restrain him with chains made of pure magic.
5 minutes later, the police arrive and take him into custody. Once he's under control, I collapse to the ground and the world goes black.
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jfn8rb2
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jfmtikd
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[WP] The world's most powerful superhero have gone rogue. All the remaining heroes and villains are helpless on their own. So they must free the hero's greatest enemy, who is sealed away in a supposedly impenetrable prison.
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I’m just the archer guy, man.
You know who I am. All of the old comics had an archer man, even in the day when superheroes were but distant dreams on the minds of children. The original Defiants had an archer guy. Every superhero group since then has had an archer guy. Hell, even the single successful villain group had an archer guy (and yes, I know he died first. It still counts).
The point is I am not the leader. The leader has to be unique, powerful, calm but stern, capable of both great good and great evil and yet always choosing to be their best self despite the temptations of evil.
Implacable, she was the leader.
I’m just the archer guy.
Look, I know this sounds like a bunch of excuses, but the reality is that when Implacable bombed the west coast into submission and decapitated her right hand man, the no-longer-immortal knight in bloodied armor Sir Vive, I was *not* ready to be the one that the world turned to as the foremost hero. I wasn’t supposed to be the best superhero left on Earth. I’m not even supposed to be the best archer guy in the new Defiants.
“Shaft, are you listening?” Marge asked. “Shaft?”
Heh. That was me. The guy that got the shaft.
“Shaft? We don’t have *time* for this.”
“Shaft is a dumb name,” I said.
Marge took in a deep breath and held it. I could almost see the seconds ticking away in her head as she used her well-practiced anger management technique.
“Shaft, people are *dying*. By the *thousands*.”
The death toll was actually well into the tens of millions, but I suspect she didn’t want to overwhelm me with pressure. Marge was secretly a softie like that.”
“Every other Pacific nation has bowed the knee,” Marge continued. “We’re running out of allies, and make no mistake, this is *war*.”
“Russia didn’t,” I pointed out.
Marge turned her gaze to the TV, which displayed a feed of Russian state media. The image had not changed in several hours now, which was unfortunate, as the bodies of their leading politicians were not getting any fresher.
“Point taken,” I sighed, rubbing my eyes. “Marge, I’m not ready for this.”
“You have to be, Shaft, because—“
“Terry.”
“What?”
“My name is Terry. I always hated Shaft. If you’re going to send me on a suicide mission, I want to do it using my own name.”
Marge paused. “Your family…”
“Implacable knows my family, Marge. She knows everything. *Everything.*”
“She’s not a god, Sh— Terry. Static has fought her to a standstill.”
“Yeah, it’s what he does.”
“And FastBreak has been cutting her off from her followers, which is finally giving us some breathing room.”
“So *what?*” I said, exasperated. “She’ll kill them. Maybe not in five minutes, maybe not even today, but eventually. Sir Vive is— was immortal. *Immortal.* He hadn’t bled in 862 years. He’s *dead*.”
“She can be stopped,” Marge said stubbornly. “You do the impossible. You’re a defier. Defy.”
“Marge, I can’t change fate. Sometimes… Sometimes people die. You know that.”
Marge fell silent. It hurt her to have her own words thrown back at her like that. She had known when she said them that I would remember, that she would pay the price for saying it. We both had.
But it didn’t make me feel good to say it.
“Not today,” she muttered. “We can’t give up.”
I leaned back. “Why not?” I said, stretching my hands behind my head. “I’ve always been a good follower. I could serve a dictator.”
“Terry, you don’t mean that,” Marge rebuked. “You don’t really feel that way.”
“What I *feel* has little impact on what *is*. The fact is only one person has come even close to defeating Implacable, and he’s…”
Our eyes met, and I could see the overwhelming wave of dread and excitement that I felt mirrored in her gaze.
“He could be dead,” she said.
“He’s not.”
“Why would he help?”
“It’s who he is. He can’t help it.”
“They could join up.”
“They might.”
“But if we don’t…”
“We have no chance,” I finished. I clenched my fists, then released, my leather gloves creaking.
“But his cell is…”
“Impenetrable?” I supplied. It seemed a better word than using the jail’s real name, named for its creator.
“Indeed. She is rather good at that.”
“She’s a fighter, not a builder,” I said. “We all helped with that cell. We can get in if we work together. Hell, *I* can get in if you give me long enough.”
“You might *have* to do it alone,” Marge replied. “And you might not get as much time as you want. But…”
I nodded. “I have to try.”
***
The electronic security system was a joke, which hurt in retrospect. Granted, I had grown in knowledge since I had created it, but it was both a source of pride and great shame that now I could breach it with one arrow and six lines off of GitHub.
Some of the layers of containment were formidable at a glance, but they had primarily been designed to be impenetrable from the inside rather than the outside, and certainly not by one of the prison’s creators who had, you know, a front door key, so to speak.
The irradiated vacuum, on the other hand, was magnificently terrifying. There was nothing to it except a void under constant bombardment from particles that can give you all sorts of rare and collectible cancers, though in all likelyhood you would genuinely fry before any of those developed if you were truly unprotected. If that wasn’t bad enough, I also had to fumble a second protective suit through the impossible vacuum, because if I was to come back, I was not going to come back alone.
The magmatic moat was entirely for show, though the light hurt my eyes. The dragons were terrifying but ultimately illusions. The puzzle was frustrating, but I knew Sir Vive’s secret impatience well enough to find the back door that he had put in after only a few quick diversions.
And then I was at the door, a simple, unlocked, lightly varnished oak front door.
I knocked, because it was polite.
The man that opened the door was nothing short of ordinary, aside from the comical expression of surprise on his face that recovered with impressive speed.
“Hello,” he said, apparenly also a polite fellow. I wouldn’t know, as we were in unusual circumstances when we last met.
“Hi, um… sir. How… how are you?”
“Bored,” he said frankly. “You’re that archer guy, right? Bullseye? Shooter? Arrowhead?”
I sighed. “Shaft. Can we stick to first names?”
“Whatever you say, Terry,” he said. “You can call me… John.”
“John.” I nodded and offered my hand. He took it slowly, suspiciously, but shook it with firm grace.
“We need your help.”
His grip tightened. “So, she took the leap?” he asked all too casually.
“What do you mean?”
“Went loony, gone postal, off the deep end, all that,” he answered, letting my hand go. “Took a shine to killing rather than saving.”
I took a deep breath. “Yes.”
“And you think I’ve got the best shot at stopping her.”
“It sure won’t be me,” I said, and he let out a genuine belly laugh.
“No,” he agreed. “No, it’s up to you to stop me *after*.”
I smiled a thin, nervous smile. “If I can.”
“You can’t,” he said. “But you’ve got stones, kid. I’ll remember that about you.”
“When we’re fighting after we beat Implacable?” I asked a little too hopefully.
His smile went cold.
“Nope.”
***
things at /r/Badderlocks
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Seven years. Seven bloody years was the amount of time Admatus Van Dan had been held in custody.
The prison? Only the greatest ever devised, built just for him, much to his amusement. It consisted of many boxes of concrete, one inside another, like the world's most utilitarian Matryoshka doll, with guards patrolling ever single layer except his own.
Of course, that was only the beginning of the defences. Turrets, laser grids, all that fun stuff you see in spy movies, except Admatus was the Macguffin. An then there was the fact that every fifteen minutes, the prison shifted to another plane. It was only in contact with earth for one in ten thousand loops, or about once every fourty days.
It was an ingenious system, and one that had thoroughly stumped Admatus, until today it seemed.
Because today was when the explosions were heard, distant at first, but getting louder every time. Of course, there were no air holes in the cube; one didn't need to eat when being hurtled through every plane in reality, so Admatus had no damned way of finding out who exactly was causing such a ruckus while he was trying to nap.
But then, the bloody wall blew up, and a bunch of people i spandex entered through. Some people he recognised; former co-workers, former nuisances, that sort of grand thing. But some were entirely new, had they really risen to such prominence in seven years?
"Is that really him?" One of them, a thin and spindly young man with bright red hair asked, "I thought he'd be more evil looking."
"Oh don't worry," Admatus mused, "They file the horns down, and have cut my tail clean off."
"Really?"
"No." Admatus replied, smiling, "Now can someone get me out of these cuffs before either we all die, or I get bored."
One of them, a grand old hero by the name of Vanguard, shook his head. "You're not being let loose, you're being used, Admatus." He then strode forth and placed a funny looking button on Admatus' chest.
When the guards finally arrived, guns drawn like that was going to do anything, everyone disappeared in a flash of light. When Admatus looked around, he was in the living room of his mansion, now some kind of base for this group.
"We made it back safely," the ginger one said, "I'll have to apologise to Hythia later."
"Now, why are you all working together?" Admatus asked, "Half of you want to kill eachother, and me." They all looked around nervously, and Admatus burst out into laughter. "He did it, didn't he?"
"What?" Vanguard asked.
He continued to laugh. "He finally did it, didn't he?" he repeated, "I warned you, I fucking warned you all what happens when you give a man that kind of power."
"No one could have predicted this!" The ginger one responded. "He just went ballistic all o0f an sudden!"
"Well I did, kid." Admatus responded, rolling his eyes as he lifted up his bound arms, "Now, get me out of these before he finds out we're here."
Vanguard didn't budge, neither did anyone else. "We don't fully trust you."
"Then put me back in the box, old man. At least the concrete was consistent."
Vanguard grumbled, but he did relent, walking forward and undoing Admatus' restraints. "Don't make me regret this."
"I won't."
When the restraints clattered to the floor, Admatus flexed his hands a little before removing the button from him. "Who the hell built this stuff."
"Hythia did." the ginger one eagerly responded, "She made each of them for us, they lock on to the prison and send you there."
Admatus eyed him. "Let me guess, she's your girlfriend, right?"
The boy began to stutter like he had a gun to his head. "W-well not exactly, we-"
"I don't care, save it for when we beat the big guy. Now, does anyone have my coat?"
One short coat-grabbing later, and Admatus was now dressed to face of against his old enemy. And a good thing too, considering he smashed through the wall, doors be damned. Everyone else stood around in shock, save for Admatus of course in his shiny burgundy coat.
Golden eyes glared at Admatus. "You." he bitterly opened, "They let you out?"
"Jealous?" Admatus winked, "So, what made you do it, Paragon? Power? Pride? Boredom?"
"... They run this world so inefficiently." he began, "They let crime, pollution, corruption, and greed grow rampant, all the while they decry me for trying to stop it."
"I hear you bud, I once called out the fact that you were gonna pull this stunt, and they put me in the slammer for it."
"And for the robberies."
"That too. But I'm through with all that, seven years has had me thinking an awful lot."
"And?"
"Well... why should I be the one to stop you?"
Vanguard stepped forward, fury in his eyes. "What the hell are you-"
"Quiet old man!" Admatus yelled, "Did you think I was really gonna side with you morons? I only play in the big leagues." he then turned to Paragon, "How about we team up, you and me against them all."
"You know, I would've said no a week ago."
"As would I." Admatus extended his hand, "Shake on it?"
Hesitantly, Paragon took Admatus' hand, only to feel something sticking to his. "You son of a-" he cried out, before disappearing in a flash of light.
"Get fucked, brickbrain!" Admatus yelled.
The boy looked at him in amazement. "You did it!" he yelled.
"Go tell your girlfriend to cut the power to that button, just in case he figures out to get back over here."
The boy was about to retort, likely to insist they're not dating, but he just said. "Yes sir." before walking off, grinning. Admatus liked the kid, he'd have to take him on as a sidekick some time.
Vanguard approached him. "Good job." He said, as close as Admatus was going to get to an actual apology, before he then asked, "What now?"
"Now we figure out how to stop him before he gets out, which means we have five weeks, give or take." Admatus turned to face the small group, "Get your asses out of here and bring everyone you know of value. Allies, nemeses, lovers, the lot. Anyone with a smidge of power."
They all dispersed, even Vanguard, leaving Admatus alone. His job at the moment was to rebuild the fucking wall before it rained, and then start paying his bills. He was not living without plumbing and Netflix, no matter who was soon going to be using his organs as a jump rope.
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jok4ahr
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jojzn2z
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[WP] The spell of the fae forced you to tell them your name. The fae looks at you with pure horror, while you look at them confused, because that was definitely not your name.
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We made it look like a routine stop, which was easy enough. Timed it around their New Year's celebrations, disappeared some uniforms, put together a car, made the lights flash. And we stopped every damn car. Hell, we even breathalyzed some and booked the drunks, much to the confusion of the real officers that came out when we, uh... radioed dispatch to request backup. With magic, sometimes you need a real flashy display. Other times, monotony and familiarity are your best allies when you need to catch a killer.
Next car pulls up – lone woman in a grey sedan. "**License and registration**, ma'am," I tell her. Most people already have theirs halfway out the window by the time I can start saying it, given that all they want to do is get out of the line, go home, go to sleep. Without realizing it, even folks driving without a license still hand me one – or something like it. A card showing their face and true name. It would be a *damn* stupid thing for them to do if I weren't a detective. It's still dumb, but the only reason they aren't questioning this is because they're already expecting something like it. The fae would never do anything this mundane, which I guess is keeping the mortals safe tonight.
Anyway, grey sedan woman hands me both documents. And something strange happens – her names don't match. Not normal. Possible, but there's a few reasonable explanations.
I turn to look back at her. "**Irene Norman**," I say. Intoning a true name has power on its own, but it's normal for this interaction. Even some attuned might not pick up on the weight of my words.
"Yes, officer?" she responds. And I notice something else – her features aren't quite the same, either. The nose is a little wider, but not... much. The eyes are a little wider, but again, minor. There's a freckle under one eye in the picture that's missing from the real woman, but that could mean anything. But that's the issue with magic – the little things start to pile up.
"But your car is registered as... **Elaine Newman**, ma'am. Can you explain that?" I look back at her, and I have to prevent the chill from showing on my face. The eyes have shifted again, back to the position on the license. This might be our target. If I can pretend I'm fully mundane, repeating this interaction as necessary, we might manage.
She laughs. Her eyes barely move – another sign. "So sorry, officer, my friend left her purse in my car and I must have grabbed hers by mistake. Here – this should be correct." I see her nail color shift from pink to a reddish-orange as her hand crosses over the window. I take a deep breath to try and hide my excitement.
"**Eliza Nelson?**" I ask, reading the new name. "Now that's not the same, either." She looks a bit more Hispanic on the card, but her features in person are drifting again. Wider nose, ears are higher. And she's looking a bit nervous, now – about how you'd expect someone to react if they were under suspicion of identity theft. Ironic, really, considering the nature of the case.
My partner looks over at me from a car's length away. Even from that distance, I can tell there's a question in his expression – "do you need help?" I nod for him to come over.
"I'm so sorry, officer, I'm not sure what's happening right now," she says, not making eye contact as she rifles through her purse again. And I believe her, mostly, because this result isn't what I was expecting, either. The spell she's in the center of is meant to produce *one* name – a person's true name. It shouldn't be possible to produce three, likely four, depending on what license she's about to give me.
And here it is – different again. "**Helena Nolan**," I read off, slowly, then look at her again. She's shifted to something more Scandinavian – her hair is lighter, too. "Ma'am, I may need to ask you to come to the station with us. This doesn't look too hot." It's half of a bluff. I have no idea how we're going to bring her in without a real name. Using all these "true" names is compelling her to produce more documents, but none of them click the way they ought to. If we can just get her inside the Court...
But then my partner walks over. He looks at me first, but then locks eyes with her, which makes something click. She reads him – and the spell – like a book. Her eyes narrow, and when she opens her mouth to speak, her teeth are... sharper. Yellower. "**Dane Avarel, Officer Fifth Circle**," she spits, "restrain this man and let me pass."
And everything goes to shit. I shout for him to wait, but he's already got his arms hooked under my shoulders, dragging me backwards. I try to yank my way out and pull his arms back down, but it's no use. Her order was unfortunately absolute.
She pulls her sedan up next to me. "Lucky for you, I don't know *your* name. But I'll never forget your face, not anymore. Don't try this again." Her eyes were catlike but bloodshot, ears pointed like they ought to be, hair down well past her feet. According to her patterns, I ought to be dead at this point, but even she knew she couldn't hide a murder out in the open with a dozen drivers watching with confusion.
After she speeds off, Dane lets me go, sheepishly. "I guess you met her before, then?" I ask.
He looks at the road, avoiding eye contact. "Not like I'd remember how, or when..."
"Well, we know one thing now," I say, changing the subject. "Our shifter either believes she has a dozen names, or she fucking *forgot* her true name." I pause. "And I'll... do my best to forget yours. She's sly. It could have happened to anyone."
He smiles, a bit bitterly. "I'd trust you with it if I had to, detective."
A lump in my throat. She never forgets faces, but I *never* forget names. He'll just have to hope I deserve that trust.
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**Trigger warning for suicide.**
"I'm sorry, *what* did you just say?"
That was the most coherent set of words the drunken goat...thing had said to me all night. When I wandered out into the forest, I had specifically been hoping not to find anybody, so when this hairy pan-looking motherfucker showed up, I didn't really know how I would handle it.
At first, I was just annoyed. In the dark, he just looked like a shirtless douchebag, and he talked like one too. His voice was incredibly deep, and his slurred words sounded like one of my fraternity brothers trying to hit on a girl. That was confusing considering that I was a man, so I had just sort of followed his lead. Great way to get murdered, but...eh, considering what I'd come here for, that'd frankly just make everything easier.
So I followed him, listening to him slobber his way through a rant about some sort of drama in his friend group. I was certain that I was mishearing him, because I kept hearing words like "fairy" or "king" or "shelf...no, wait, sylph. Yeah, sylph." But when we stepped into a small clearing, in the moonlight, I saw that what I had thought were pants were actually his furry brown legs, bending at odd angles and ending in hooves.
So when he said "Tell me your name, handsome," my instinct was to try and hit him in the face. Weirdly, that didn't seem to bother him much, and when he repeated himself, my mouth opened up to say...well, something. I'm pretty sure it was going to be an expletive.
But instead, what came out was "Alice."
Now he was staring at me, jaw slack, breath stinking of beer and flowers, and eyes struggling to focus. When he asked what I'd said, I opened my mouth to tell him I didn't know, but instead, I said "Alice" again.
The goat thing stared. He stared and stared and stared, and his face slowly went from confused to frustrated. Before I quite knew what had happened, he shoved me over. "Aw, dude, what the fuck!"
"Fuck you!" I yelled, entirely out of instinct, though it was nice to be in control over my own mouth again.
"I mean, yeah, I was gonna! But now I just gotta go jerk off someplace!"
*What?* "What?" My brain and my mouth were in perfect agreement that time.
"I'm not into chicks, dude! You shoulda told me!"
I sat on the ground underneath him, trying to find words with which to respond to this...gay goat dudebro that apparently existed less than a mile off-campus. Before I could find any, though, the air seemed to shift. The goat's eyes went wide and focused as best they could on something that I couldn't see, but which was apparently towering above us. "Ooooh shit. Uh, hey! Hey, king boss! How, uh, how you doing?" He failed to conceal a drunken belch. Somehow the forest around me tasted...unimpressed. "No, I wasn't doing anything, I swear!...human? Pfft, she's not a human! She's totally a..." he stared down at me, then tilted his head until he caught a glimpse of my ear. "...oooohhhhhh fuck, she's a human."
"Who the fuck are you talking about?" The question I should have been asking was "who the fuck are you talking to", but the grass made me feel like I shouldn't. I have no idea what that means either, but it's definitely what happened.
Gay goat bro ignored me. "Of course I don't know what the fuck she's doing here! You think I'm just gonna—" The air clenched around me and the goat covered his ears. "Alright, alright! I'll get rid of her!" Without elaborating further, he grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet, and the last thing I remembered was him turning me around and feeling a hoof kick into my back.
When I woke up the next day, I was lying underneath a tree. A rope clung to one of the branches, frayed and torn fibers slowly coming uncoiled. All around me, a ring of small, pale mushrooms grew. I felt my face and realized it was swollen, then slowly groped and grasped around until my hands found the phone I was sure I didn't bring.
At the hospital, when the nurses asked if I wanted to let anyone in, I said no, and they listened. When I saw my reflection, my face was purple and swollen, and the whites of my eyes had gone bright red. Weirdly, I didn't feel any worse about it than I usually did around mirrors.
I rubbed my head, feeling that it was still tender from the last football game I played in. I rubbed my arms and they felt weird and swollen too, even though there was nothing wrong with them. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, knew it was my dad, and turned it off.
My sister was in middle school and weirdly into fairies. I remembered her ranting at me about how they weren't just little tinkerbell things, and how they'd steal your name if you said it. But if gay goat dude had been trying to do that, he must have gotten it backwards, because now I couldn't get a name out of my head.
*Alice.*
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meo7bow
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menynm8
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[WP]One day you wake up in the last video game you played with a note that says "you have to stay alive for 100 days or else you die in the real world: p.s. all mods are disabled for the 100 days.
|
I awaken slowly, a muted clanking fills my ears, and I'm jostled against the walls of a narrow... tube? Where am I?
With a thunk, the motion stops, and a door in front of me opens with a whoosh, and I stagger forward into a blistering heat. No, not heat, I realize. This room isn't hot, I'm just filled with cold, a deep cold that permeates all the way to my core. Rubbing my arms, I look around through bleary eyes. A young woman wearing what looks like a uniform of some description and snaps a sharp, strangely familiar salute.
Handing me a note, she says, "This is for you, sir!" Before turning on her heel and marching away to some other duty.
Looking down at the note in my gauntleted hands, wait, gauntlets? Looking past the note I see a suit of high tech armor, heavy boots cover my feet, greaves adorn my shins, and a solid breastplate is secured over my chest, droplets of fast melting ice beginning to run off it. I raise a hand to my head and realize I'm wearing a helmet of such a perfect fit, I almost didn't notice it.
I return to the note in my hands and open it. "This is the last game you played. You must stay alive for 100 days, or you die in the real world. P.S. All mods have been disabled."
Oh shit.
I look around with fresh eyes and recognize the interior of the space faring vessel on which I now stand. Its newly appointed commander, thawed only seconds ago from a cryogenic sleep."
Slowly, I move forward into the main area. To my left is the hangar, with the familiar shuttle and fast attack air superiority craft waiting for launch.
"Greetings, sir!" A voice barks from my right, "Glad to have you aboard!" Another familiarly uniformed crew member greets me with a salute.
With mounting dread, I move to the bridge, the armored officer standing at the holographic battle map turns and salutes.
"Greetings, Helldiver, the galaxy needs you."
I am so Fucked...
|
I looked again at the note. Nope, no changes, 100 days.... shit....
Alright, let's take stock. Last game I played was Baldurs Gate. Not a great choice for this challenge, but not a terrible one either. That would make this the mind flayer nautiloid, and I'll quickly make big beefy friends who will stand in between me and everyone else. I pause. Wait, I already know how this works out, I know the story.... I know where the good items are and what choices to make. I mean, I'm not in the clear by any stretch, there are a LOT of things that can kill me in unpleasant fashions, but still....
I pull out my bow, and with a grim determination, I go see about saving a walking brain so it can help me out in act three. And I think I'll save Minthera. She's power hungry enough to do all the squeamish things I'd rather not. This is going to suck without the wiki, but then again, I don't have to deal with my boss for 100 days now, that's gotta be worth a parasite in my brain for a bit.... right?
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juzda4g
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juywnf6
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[WP] You're the first test subject for an experimental super soldier serum. You are told the truth only after you transform into something not quite human anymore.
|
I open my eyes. Everything was not, but suddenly is. I search my surroundings to understand. Objects are scattered around me within a space.
I am an object as well? No. I am me. More than an object.
My eyes focus in on my form. I feel my body. It's familiar like I've always known it yet it's the first time I've seen or felt it. Sweat drips down my arms as I involuntarily inhale until my chest is full.
I can smell my own odor. It's strong, but calming. I've been in this space for some time.
The air tastes metallic. Strange that I know the taste of metal to even compare. I lick my lips and feel a sharp pain and the taste of copper. I cannot help but lick again only to feel the pain subside and the wound close.
The ringing subsides and only in its absence do I know it was there. Objects around me move and now it's clear they're making sound, but the patterns are ones I can recognize.
I make out the phrase "Captain? Can you hear me?"
'Captain'? Is my name 'Captain'? That does not feel like my name.
I look to the one speaking before another quickly interrupts. "He shouldn't know his name, Clive."
The first man's name is Clive. He is a man. I look to my body. He is a man like me. He knows his name. Why shouldn't I know my name? I must ask.
"Why shouldn't I know my name, Clive?" There is a silence as loud as it is quiet.
The other man speaks even though I spoke to Clive. "It's not that you shouldn't. It's that you wouldn't... Do you know your name?"
"Do you know yours?" Conversing feels natural, but my throat feels dry.
The other man smiles and says "Tara. My name is Tara." This is not a man. Tara is a woman.
"Hello, Tara and Clive. Is my name 'Captain'?" I believe this is not my name, but Tara and Clive may know better.
Clive is looking to Tara for a response. She opens her mouth to speak, but there is a pause. "It's more of a title."
"Then what is my name?" I feel as though I have just been born. I long for an identity.
Tara motions for Clive to leave as she sits down in front of me to loosen my restraints. Why was I restrained? "I don't know your name. I know the name that once lived in your body, but that is not you."
"Tara, I do not understand. Am I prisoner?" As my wrists are freed, I feel a sense of relief though I still feel confined.
Tara passes me a glass of water. "The man who walked into this room and lay on this table once controlled your body. He was a Captain that volunteered for a procedure that would grant his body extraordinary abilities."
"Extraordinary? To what end?" What differentiates my current being from what he was?
Clive returns with a box, a clipboard, and food on a plate. "The Captain wished to be more than he was. We knew how to make that a reality."
"Did you know he would not be me?" Tara hands me a sandwich and I take a bite.
She unloads equipment from the box and begins to remove syringes from my arms. "Yes. We did."
"Did the Captain know he would not be me?" I can feel her pause in her actions, before placing a brace on both my wrists. They're heavy, but seem to be relaying information to her monitor. The world is becoming clearer.
Tara takes out her clipboard and begins taking notes. "No. He did not."
"In giving me life, you have taken his away?" I feel something within... This is guilt. I feel as though I have stolen from another man.
Tara is avoiding eye contact as she writes. "We promised him his body would be capable of performing remarkable things. We did not lie."
"You did not lie, but you did not tell the truth." I feel angry and dismissed. I clench at the sides of my bed.
Tara presses a button and my arms are pulled by the braces back to a resting position. She is standing now, looking at me once more, but a tear falls down her face. "We didn't have a choice, Capt-"
"I do not like this. Take these off." I hardly noticed the restraints before they were released, but now that I've experienced that freedom, how can I accept this?
Tara points to the sides of my bed where I clenched. Nothing but a hole the shape of my hand is left and I realize I'm holding the pieces still in my palms. "I'm sorry. It's a precaution. When your heart rate settles, it will automatically release. We don't yet know the extent of your abilities and we need to be sure you will not pose a threat to us or our facility."
"That makes sense." I calm myself and as she said, the braces released their pull. I considered trying to pry them off, but... I do not wish to be a threat.
Tara looks on in wonder and perhaps fear. I don't think she expected that response. "I don't want this to be difficult."
"I believe you." I don't know why, but I have a gut feeling Tara can be trusted.
There's a pause before Tara sits back down. "What can I call you?"
"I still need time to think. For now, call me 'Captain'."
|
"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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lsdl13k
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lsc94vx
|
[WP] The hero, normally jovial and humorous in their interactions, steps into a watering hole for villains, shaking with rage, tears running down their face, and with as much patience and calm as they can muster, simply asks "Who did it?"
|
I sat at the bar in the speakeasy, nursing my drink and a headache. The light show this morning hadn’t done me any favors, nor had the earthquake that followed. While no one claimed responsibility for the crime spree, the celebratory laughter from the back booth suggested the likely culprits. I glanced in their direction but didn’t recognize any faces - rare after over 200 years of coming here.
The lights seemed to shine brighter, prompting me to bury my face in my hands and groan.
“You good, ‘lock?” Sam asked, leaning in. I lowered my hands to respond, only to realize the lights were indeed intensifying. I grabbed Sam’s head, pulling him down toward the counter while covering the back of my head with my other hand. Bulbs began to burst, and then the door slammed open. I looked up and swiped my hand through my hair to check for glass. I turned, trying to recall any spells to defend myself.
In the doorway stood Bubblegum, the newest and youngest member of the city’s hired heroes. Her bright pink and white outfit contrasted sharply with the red on her face. She was shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks as she scanned the room.
"Who did it?"
Her usually upbeat voice was laced with fury. In all my encounters with her, I’d never seen her without a smile. A sense of unease settled in my stomach, more than just my migraine. She had faced earthquakes before, and while the light show was new, it didn’t seem inherently dangerous; I am not sure where this anger had come from.
Pink lightning danced around her arms, drawing my attention to a small package she held.
Suddenly, I realized why my stomach was in knots.
I stood, unable to control my movements, walking toward her. She was trying to catch my eye, searching for a confession, but my gaze was fixed on what - who - she was holding.
As I reached her, I extended my hand. She flinched but relaxed when she saw I meant no harm. I brushed the blanket aside and confirmed my worst fears: a child, less than a year old. I cupped his face in my hand and looked up into her tear-filled eyes. Though her tears flowed just as heavy, there was an understanding between us.
“No children. I have few rules, but this is number one.” I whispered the words, yet everyone in the bar heard me. My eyes glowed with an unholy shade of green, and the baby’s cheek grew warm. A hazy cloud surrounded him as I inhaled deeply. I chose not to tell her what was happening - I wasn’t sure she could bear the truth of the child’s last moments. Fear, drowned in tears, all alone. She looked to me, hope and desperation mingling in her gaze, pleading for me to save him.
"I can't fix him, child. I am sorry."
I turned my gaze to the back booth, confirming my earlier suspicions. I extended my hand, and a shadowy copy of my hand continued where my reach stopped. The ghastly appendage curled behind the group, then snapped back, launching them toward the front of the bar. Ghostly tendrils secured each of the four to the ground, binding their limbs and muffling their protests. Their fear was palpable. I almost missed this part of my powers.
I had no intention of sharing this darkness with Bubblegum; it had long been mine to command. I wouldn’t ask her to punish those who broke my rules.
"What do you intend to do with them, Warlock?"
I grunted in response. “They are no longer a problem. You may watch, but I suggest you leave.”
I waited until her footsteps faded, not bothering to stop the other villains following her. They knew what happened when you ignored the rules. The tendrils tightened, and the muffled screams were barely audible over the sound of breaking bones.
|
I am a low-rank villain, and I am considered a villain, just because my power is to alter the strength of drinks around me.
No legal bar wanted to hire me, because they were afraid I would be a liability, so I came to work for the villains, whom happily agreed to hire me, at one of their most popular bars, and gathering spots.
Alternating the strength and taste of drinks, I made myself liked, which worked out as planned, as I wasn't bullied nor threatened here, lest some of the regulars lose their favorite drink maker.
Today was a busy day, as the villains did something great...the bar was ablaze, music blasting, powers raging, small scuffles happening...
And then silence...because the hero...well, THE Hero, the greatest hero of our country, and this city entered the bar.
The Hero, called Hope by the citizens, and Giggling Fool by villains was of enormous strength, and potential.
I personally, in my 3 decades of life, have yet to see him lose...or frown.
He was always smiling, laughing, kindly speaking to all, be them heroes, citizens, villains, aliens, monsters, you get it.
But now...
He was shaking, tears streaming down his face, his knuckles white, and teeth gritted.
"Who did it?", he asked, as he arrived in the middle of the establishment, trying to be calm, but I think everyone here felt it.
That unbridled rage screaming to be let go.
The villains said nothing, just stared at The Hero for a while, before some of the more impatient ones tried to make a move.
Wrong choice.
The Hero didn't even look in their direction, but somehow...they ended up with their neck broken.
"With their vitality, it's just incapacitation, not outright death.
Again...Who did it?", The Hero asked.
The villains said nothing, but took a step back...for they didn't know how more than 6 villains ended up almost dead in an instant.
A regular, and half-owner of the bar looked at me, and gestured.
I sighed.
"Excuse me, Sir...
I am a bartender here, and I would appreciate if you tried not to destroy our establishment.", I said the well-rehearsed lines.
"Hell-hole, and gathering place of low-lives...but indeed, you are blameless in this case.
Tell me, have you heard about the reason villains all over the country are celebrating?", he turned towards me, and asked.
I shook my head, and saw the villains taking out their weapons, and preparing their powers.
"They attacked a hidden school for heroes-in-training.
1942 young ones, between the ages 12-18 have been killed.
Do you think I can hold back, and care about your establishment?", he asked.
"Do your worse.", I said, running towards the secret exit, as behind me all hell breaks loose...
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jb8kfqw
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jb8b9zt
|
[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.
|
**Part One**
The FAFO — standing for ‘Fuck Around and Find Out’ — was perhaps the greatest or worst thing to ever happen to the Galactic Federation (GF).
I, Vrektas Emhi, journalist of Terened’s very own *The Cosmos,* decided it was time to find out once and for all if humans had a place in the solar system, especially in light of Peace Talks occurring later this week.
My first interaction with the FAFO was not unlike any other intergalactic warship interactions I’ve had before. In fact, it was all rather ordinary.
Mark Bridge, FAFO’s Captain, was a pleasant man with dark, greying hair — thin, flimsy strands atop the head — and a kind smile — *cnyuro,* in our language. He stood tall in his blue uniform and ordered many of his subordinates around. And though he didn’t yell, anyone could tell that the men and women around him respected him.
I shook his hand — a greeting custom humans have adapted — after he conversed with GF’s Director V’rn Kflim, and was rather surprised by the firm grip that greeted me.
His cnyuro widened when I gave him my name and told him that I was here to learn the ways of human life.
“Well,” he said, chuckling — and what a unique sound that was — “I hope we live up to your expectations, then.”
And that had got me wondering. *What exactly were my expectations?*
Dear reader, what are *your* expectations?
Humans had never been part of the Galactic Federation, not officially, but they remained on good terms with them. Allies, humans would call themselves. *Urayuoc* we would say.
Which brought me to my answer. If I were to know this species fully; extensively and completely, then I would need the opinion of all parties involved.
Of course, this included Kjo Mazon, a large, burly, and blue Zocaks general more commonly known as ‘Maz’.
“What are your opinions on the humans?” I asked Maz. He hummed in that way all Zocaks do when they’re thinking.
“They are — rather peculiar, let me say. I have spent some of my travels aboard their ship and have gotten to know Captain Bridge well, but even now he surprises me. Just this morning I heard a rather odd sound coming from his mouth — sizzling and loud — and when I inquired about whether he needed medical assistance, he was very confused. I pointed out the noise and he told me that they were only ‘Pop Rocks’. Now, I do not know what these ‘Pop Rocks’ are, but they do not sound like something that should be in one’s mouth, no?” He shuddered, and I wondered if these ‘Pop Rocks’ were part of human’s war tactics. Still, I was left with more questions than answers. Unfortunately, even Blararg Taduzla of Vrols proved to be of no help.
“They’re different from my kind,” she started. “Different from *all* our kind. A few moons ago Private Lance told me he had something life changing to show me. Someone called *Ri-han-na had* who had money and was a *‘bitch’.* I have to say, after that, I am much more favourable to humans joining the GF. I hope to one day meet this woman.”
And well, dear readers, I am afraid that no matter how extensively I researched the word ‘bitch’, I could not find a translation of the meaning in our language. It seems, in this case, some things are better left unsaid.
Still, I was stumped. None of my interviews had gotten me anywhere. Not even when I spoke to Trik Tacnol, our very own planet’s Captain.
“We need them on our side,” he told me rather seriously. By now, Tacnol and I were well acquainted. I had shadowed him a few centuries back when I was first starting journalism, and we had kept in touch ever since.
“Vrektas, my old friend, there is much that we still do not know about the universe. But the humans. Well, they are good allies. Good urayuoc, yes? We will learn much from them.”
“Captain,” I asked. “What can we learn from them?”
“Speak to Ozin.” He nodded. “He will tell you all that you wish to know.”
I had heard of Ozin before now, of course. Another one of our kind, though some say he was the strangest of them all.
It was only when the sun had risen again that I got to find out how right they were.
“Oh,” Ozin began, tentacles full of something he called cereal. “The humans? They are *cray-ze.* Crayyyy-zeee. That’s another word they taught me. Later today they said they were going to teach me how to ‘somersault’, whatever that is. I hope it involves eating more of this, though. We’re missing out on something revolutionary.” He looked at me. “Want some?”
I politely declined his offer and attempted to bring the conversation back on track. “Captain Trik told me you would have answers to my questions.”
“What are your questions?”
“How dangerous are the humans?”
It was then that Ozin shuddered, suddenly looking blank — which was odd considering we were pretty blank creatures to begin with. “They’re terrifying,” he told me. “But they’re also my friends.” *Friends,* he said, like this word meant something. “And I won’t have anyone implying that they are *dangerous,* like they are *bad* and *corrupt.* They are my *friends!”*
“Friends?” I asked, rather taken aback by the sudden outburst.
“Hlyuomjc,” he translated.
Hlyuomjc.
*Hlyuomjc.*
Dear readers, it seemed that Ozin had done something that not even I could accomplish. He had done the one thing I tried to do, but never succeeded at.
He became not just acquaintances but *hlyuomjc* with the humans, and perhaps that is the highest regard that can be given by any Terened.
I knew what I had to do.
The one thing I had not done yet.
I had to talk to the humans.
|
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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k8eniqy
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k8ejffz
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[WP] A seemingly innocent TikTok challenge is going viral. Except 50% of the people that partake go missing, With millions of primarily young people disappearing from the face of the Earth, you - the creator of the challenge - have no clue what's happening or who's behind the disappearances
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I stopped playing with the neighborhood kids around the time I turned 7. The city was growing quickly at the time and a slew of child abductions in the area had Mother anxious. Plus, she had noticed the other kids seemed to not like me as much, and after telling me I got uncomfortable being outside with them.
Mother didn't like me being uncomfortable so we eventually stopped going to the park.
I had tried really hard for a few years, I remember, but the other kids were just never nice to me. I mean, I never had a problem but on the rides home mother would always preen over me, watching me through the rearview mirror. "Honey, those boys weren't letting you have fun were they? I'm so sorry baby." As she cooed over me.
Mother was always really nice when we left the park.
During those first few years, while I was out playing, my mom would sometimes have arguments with the other parents. The first time I remember was when I'd gotten a bloody knee after tripping into my friend. We were standing up laughing when I noticed her, shrill screams causing my blood to run cold. We'd be in the car only a few minutes later, my knee all but forgotten by the both of us. "Well they weren't very respectful now, were they!" She would huff as she stepped into the car, putting her tools under the front passenger seat.
Mother could be a little scary when it came to me.
In the end I found my calling with computers, like most of you out there. Nothing crazy, but I landed a pretty cushy job at a tech startup. It was a "multi-faceted", "learn-as-you-go", digital marketer. Involved in every aspect of marketing our neat little software. And with the advent and rise of TikTok, well, they needed a new social media person.
Mother had always taken plenty of videos of me, showing me poses and cool little dances. So I said I'd love to try it out!
Our first few videos did not go too well, but that was par for the course. After a few months of testing and working on different trends I had almost run out of ideas. I'd been polling the office over slack for the past week and no one had any new ideas. Looking for inspiration, I had went back to my apartment and noticed some of the old tapes mother had made.
Mother liked to drop things off to my simple 1-bedroom every other day or so, still. Seems she was lonely these days.
After a stroke of genius and maybe a few too many late night drinks, we'd finally hit paydirt. It was a simple dance, but slightly provocative if I were being honest. It was one of the dances mother had had me do as a kid. A miniature version, and sped up to some underground bimbocore track, but a version nonetheless. And boy, only days later we had a million views. A week and we were up to 10 million.
Mother had written a note saying she was proud of me, and that my video was amazing - but that she had a problem and would need to leave for a bit.
It wasn't long before the news broke - TikTokers, slain en masse by some unknown killer. All of whom had participated in my stupid little dance trend. It wasn't huge, but 10-20 people had copied my little dance and I was hauled away to be questioned after the 3rd murder. But I didn't know anything. I was scared *too.* Couldn't they see that? I didn't know any more than they did! I didn't know what to say when they asked if I had any family.
Mother didn't come home.
I think I realized, at some point around the 5th or 6th murder, that this *was* all my fault.
Mother, I know you use reddit. I know you liked to read the prompts here. You loved finding my posts here when you could. I know you're reading this. Please stop. They haven't done anything wrong. I *know* it's our special dance, I took the video down. Please, please come home.
I've been in contact with TikTok to take the sound and videos down. They *fixed* it mother so please, can you stop now? For me?
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"I want to know what the hell you've done here, right now."
I shifted uncomfortably - the chair I sat in was not comfortable in any sense of the word. I glared again at the detective sitting across from me, his eyebrows knitting together in rage.
"If you're looking for an answer, officer, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed."
And, in all honesty, that was the truth. I don't know what I did to cause this mess.
It had started off innocently enough. I'd posted a truly non-dangerous video on TikTok, with a completely harmless challenge; heck, it was actually fun. Or so I had thought.
For the first few days, everything went smoothly - and successfully. Within eight hours it had been viewed over a million times, and a day later that number had quadrupled, and then it reached tens of millions of views. I was overjoyed, this was the most successful thing I'd ever posted on the platform. For a good few weeks, this thing had young people everywhere outdoors, posting videos of their experiences.
*"I challenge you to go outside and enjoy it!"* It's ridiculous how such a simple and, frankly, dumb challenge achieved such phenomenal success. I guess that's the nature of the internet. I was actually enjoying this.
And then the disappearances started.
They were noticed slowly at first; from what I could gleam, people just assumed at first that the missing had made other plans, or were delayed momentarily. That thought soon vanished, when it became clear to the victims families and friends that they were missing.
Nobody even connected the disappearances with TikTok for several days - something like that just wasn't conceivable to the authorities.
That changed when two identical twins partook in the challenge. Did the video, uploaded it, and went back inside. Only one of them went through the door.
Something about the surviving sisters testimony drew the authorities attention to me. And, after an embarrassingly short pursuit (for me, at least), I was apprehended.
And now I'm in this damn interrogation room.
"HEY!" the detective yelled, his face turning red, "I'm asking you questions, pal. So stop staring into space and answer them! What the hell have you done with all those people, and where are they?"
That snapped me out of my reverie. And I stayed in that cold room, hands cuffed to the table, for what felt like years, although according to the clock on the wall it was only six hours. Six hours of going around and around, with the same stupid questions.
When it eventually came to the detective that I wasn't going to answer his questions, he stormed out of the room. A few minutes later, an officer dragged me down the hall to the cells.
It's cold in here, and the bed is just as, if not more uncomfortable than the chair in the interrogation room.
And I still have no idea why I've been arrested.
I should never have made that video.
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j3f0qcr
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j3esglw
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[WP] You are an assassin with a reputation for pulling of very public hits without being noticed. You achieve this not by being extremely stealthy, but by making sure that your kills are so absurd and ridiculous that no one would ever believe the witnesses if they told their stories.
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Last week, I played the Joker, grabbed my target, and tied him kicking and screaming to a bunch of balloons to float off into the sky, where he soon fell to his death. The week before that, I was Freddy Fazbear; the piston-powered jaw in the suit pierced my target's skull and killed him instantly. And just yesterday I killed a guy by dressing up like Dio and beating him to death in the middle of Times Square, screaming "Muda muda muda" like a madman.
You must think I'm insane, and you wouldn't be wrong. People with a sound mind don't get into this business. But the kills? That's not insanity. That's brilliance.
It's one of the quirks of those normies with their nine to five's that they simply choose to believe everything is the most boring option possible. And when something cool or wacky happens, they say it's a fake or it's staged. Shoot a guy in an alley wearing a ski mask? Someone calls the cops. Shooting a guy in the middle of a busy city area dressed up as a Decepticon? Everyone claps for you. They think I'm a busker, and my targets are just actors, part of the show. We always make a big, cheesy show of having someone come over and take the body away; usually it's made to look like another busker getting in on the fun. My cleanup crew are an essential part of my success; just three days ago they put the body into a wood chipper in full view of everyone, dressed as Laurel and Hardy. Had they acted nervous or cold, people would have been disturbed and done something about it. But nobody ever expects you to be so cold to killing that you can act like a total silly goofball while chopping up a corpse.
The worse I've ever had is a Disney lawyer approached me with a cease and desist for defamation for my "edgy and violent portrayals of beloved characters". Man, if that stiff only knew the half of it. That guy dressed up as Captain Hook had a gag on underneath the mask; if he looked like he was fighting for his life, it's because he was. And when Peter Pan throws him to the crocodile, all the audience cheered. They thought the blood and gore was staged, just another elaborate show. They thought the croc was trained not to actually attack people; couldn't be more wrong about that. He *is* trained, but trained to kill without mercy. I don't break him out too often... not too many hits work well with a giant reptile as part of the show... but he once got center stage acting as SCP-682, with his own hairy costume and everything. Me and my crew came in dressed as SCP personnel, cleaned up the mess, and told everyone not to speak of what they saw. Of course, everyone did. They said we were the best buskers they had ever seen. The videos of us went viral. "So realistic!" was always the line they used. If they only knew....
Anyhow, I gotta get going. Dude's trying to snitch on some mob boss or something, and I'm the man they hired to take him down. If you wanna see how it goes down, look in the center of the city for the guy dressed up as Huggy Wuggy. Time to break out the old pneumatic jaw again.
Oh, and if you're thinking of being a little snitch as well, I got a cute little Pikachu costume and a Charizard suit rigged with a gag and an electrical system that will fry you into bacon in front of a live audience. So... don't get any funny ideas. I feel like my Thunderbolt would be super effective in that situation.
See you at the show. Sure, I know it's cheesy. I know I sound like some crazy comic-book villain. But comic book villains don't exist... and to the public, neither do I.
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I had always been an assassin with a unique approach to my craft. While others prided themselves on their stealth and precision, I preferred to make a splash with my kills. I was the master of the absurd, ensuring that no one would ever believe the witnesses if they told their stories. It had worked, as I had built up a reputation as the go-to assassin for high-profile, very public hits.
My latest assignment was no different. I was hired to take out a wealthy businessman who had made many enemies with his ruthless business practices. The hit was to take place at a crowded city park during the lunch hour rush. It was the perfect opportunity to blend in with the crowds and make my move.
As I arrived at the park, I scanned the crowd, searching for my mark. I spotted him sitting on a park bench, engrossed in his newspaper. I approached him calmly as if I were just another passerby. As I drew closer, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my weapon of choice: a banana.
The businessman looked up just as I swung the banana at his head. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious. I quickly retreated into the crowds, blending in with the shocked and confused witnesses.
As I walked away, I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. Another successful hit and no one would ever suspect a thing. But as I made my way through the crowded streets, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.
I turned to find a group of heavily armed men closing in on me. They were professionals, and they had me surrounded. I knew I was in trouble.
"We know who you are," the leader of the group growled. "And we know what you did. You're coming with us."
I knew I had to think fast. I couldn't let them take me in, not after all the hits I had pulled off. I decided to make a run for it, hoping to lose them in the crowds.
I pushed my way through the throngs of people, ducking and weaving as I tried to escape my pursuers. But they were hot on my heels, and I knew I couldn't keep this up for much longer.
Just as I thought all was lost, I spotted a circus tent in the distance. I had an idea. I made a beeline for the tent and slipped inside, blending in with the circus performers.
The armed men burst into the tent a few minutes later, guns drawn as they searched for me. But they couldn't find me among the clowns and acrobats, and they eventually left empty-handed.
I let out a sigh of relief and collapsed onto a stack of circus props. I had managed to evade capture once again, thanks to my reputation for ridiculous kills. And I knew that as long as I stayed true to my unique style, I would always be one step ahead of my enemies.
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jbzstq5
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jbygja9
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[WP] Sisyphus has built up a lot of Muscle over the eons of carrying his boulder. This time, atop the hill, he finally decides to hold it in place.
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Sisyphus daydreamed of a moment of audience with Chronos. For surely he could convince the god of time to turn back the dial so that Sisyphus could undo the mistakes of his life. He would greet Charon with open arms and ride through the river Styx. He would accept his death and give his children the chance to rule Ephyra. He would…
A drop of salty sweat trickled down Sisyphus’ head and landed in his eye. It stung, and he could not wipe it away for fear his boulder rolling away yet again. The eye continued to sting, and it seemed to amplify the fires of Hades burning in his muscles. All of the stories of the underworld had to be lies, for surely *this* was the underworld.
His daydream was a blessed distraction, and the top of the hill once again neared. He stopped in his tracks, sighed, and steeled himself for what was to come. Each time he had arrived at the top of this hill, his muscles had failed him. It was his payment for robbing Hades. Forevermore, he would feel these fires over and over again. Was there no way to take control of his fate?
An idea slammed into his brain like a bolt of lightning from Zeus himself. He would not accept his death. He would stay here. He would again defy the gods. He would.
Sisyphus crouched, placing one knee on the ground. He braced himself and lifted the boulder as high as he could. Again, he daydreamed. He dreamed that he had the strength of a god, and that strength grew until he could bear all of the world’s weight. His everlasting will to defy the gods gave him purpose, and that purpose empowered him. He stared at the ground beneath him and knew then that he could do better than the gods.
Years passed faster than Sisyphus could count, and the decades blended into millennia. All the while, Sisyphus held strong. He crouched, unmoving, while the winds weathered the lumpy boulder. He stared at the ground, resolute, while rainwater filled the cracks and craters of the boulder. He braced himself through the fires of the underworld, unrepentant, as the boulder sprouted vibrant green life.
Thus a being of titanic strength was forged. Through his perseverance, the boulder became a new world. Its people came to love Sisyphus, though they would never know his true name. Instead, they called him Atlas.
_________________________________
Really cool prompt. Thank you!!! I hope you'll enjoy what I've done with it.
Edit: Thanks for all the love everyone! This was a hell of a way to come back after a writing hiatus.
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"Okay Bouldy. We arrived!" Sisyphus holds the boulder with a single mighty hand. summit is a sight to behold. It is hard not to admire the view. Even after a million times.
How long has he been doing this? One millennia? A hundred? He was craving companionship, the human touch. Ever more so than a decent wine. He took another look at the canyon under. And decided he had enough. With his mighty hands he lifted the boulder and smashed it into the ground. "Sorry Bouldy, I need you to stay here."
He descended into the canyon. There was a town visible from the summit. Maybe he could fancy himself a warm bed and a cold drink? Half a day later he was at the gate. He found a job to pay for provisions and a humble room to reside.
A few months passed. To his own surprise Sisyphus found human affection a challenging feat. A thousand years with a lone boulder was taking its toll. He figured other humans were noisy and arrogant. And it proved even more demanding to find mutual interest.
He was lonely even more so than when he was alone pushing boulder. He even felt nostalgic for "bouldy". It is human nature. Given enough time, one can even get attached to a piece of rock.
The worst was not being alone. But being purposeless. He had no goal, no objective. No drive. So one day he found himself climbing into his own personal prison again. Digging the boulder out and rolling it down the mountain.
Edit: phone autocorrect screw ups.
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jareftc
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jardd8t
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[WP]"Halt, foul beast! You shall threaten this town no longer!" Yelled the hero, drawing their blade, an ancient artefact that glowed and became razor sharp in the presence of evil.. except it wasn't only not glowing, but dulled as the hero pointed it at the 8' tall man-wolf huddled in the corner
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The Wolfman shook cowardly and let out a soft whimper, and Sir Arnold paused..a look of confusion crossing over his face. The townsfolk behind Arnold gasped as he stepped closer to it, lowering the sword ever so slightly. Surely, this had to be the foul beast that had been eating their goats and ravaging their farms for the last six weeks. But his sword never lied, and this creature looked petrified of him. "Speak creature!
So we understand what your true intentions are!" The Wolfman gazed at him warily then stood up to its full height. It was still shaking, and as it spoke, its deep burly voice trembled. "Me....s-s-sorry." It sputtered out, and everyone gasped again, shock and awe filled the crowd as it suddenly broke down crying.
"Just wanted to pet goats. Not eat! Me not the monster!" Arnold stood there slackjawed as the Wolfman buried its head in its hands."What sort of trickery is this?" He asked, still unsure of whether to believe what he was hearing or not.
"No trick, please no hurt me." Arnold sighed then looked out across the sea of people. "What do you all want me to do?! It's clearly not a threat, and I'm not gonna stab it! I don't want its blood on my sword!"
Everyone glared angrily at him, and people began to shout things like "kill it anyway" and "it deserves to die" before the Wolfman spoke up again. "Me not an 'it!' My name Rod!" Arnold looked between Rod and the townspeople, drawing nearer. Then he did the one thing no one would have expected.
He turned, drew his sword on the mob, then looked at his newfound friend as his sword glowed brightly. "Well then, Rod, I suggest you RUN!"
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The blade imbued with the spirit of an ancient monster hunter would not cut anything the spirit of the monster hunter deemed innocent.
The cursed one in the corner whimpered and pleaded for their life. The blade began to vibrate and soon the apparition of the ancient monster hunter materialized before the new wielder.
"You, sorry excuse for a monster hunter!"
The spirit said pointing at the hunter.
"Can't you see this one is cursed?"
"But it is a monster!" Howled the hunter.
"No, cursed does not mean monster. You must endeavour to cure this one of their curse or my blade will never pierce flesh again."
The hunter relented and sheathed the blade. After, this he offered his hand to wolven one.
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ju4srsy
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ju48jnw
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[WP] You are a werewolf and everyone in the village knows. When its nearing the full moon they all help you baricade yourself in your home since you are the only wheat farmer in town. Everything was fine until some self righteous lord takes over and demands not only your land but your home as well.
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I tilted my head, mind not quite comprehending what my ears had heard. "...Are you serious?"
The lord, newly 'appointed' over our town, scoffed at me. "Of course I am. Me telling you to tell the rest of the village is a formality that I decided to follow."
...He didn't know.
Our village had a *very minor* werewolf problem. People who are good at medicine and alchemy and the like are very hard to come by, so we couldn't just kill him or whatever. If anything, his condition usually helped him. Much easier to smell out herbs and such when you sometimes have wolf senses. Just had to make sure to tie him up when the full moon was coming, which he was aware of and willing to do.
The issue is that... werewolves. The good news was that this lord clearly didn't know about it. The bad news was that... he was going to very quickly.
"Are you listening?" I snapped back to attention.
"Apologies," I said with a slight curtsy. "That building and land belongs to our town's medicine man. If you take it-"
The lord waved his hand dismissively. "What happens to your town is none of my concern," he interrupted coldly. "I will be arriving within the week." I bit the inside of my lip but nodded. I couldn't exactly *say no,* not if I valued my life, which I did.
"I'll be sure to inform the rest of the villagers." The lord nodded, turning and waving his hand.
"You're dismissed." I bowed, turned, and walked out of the room.
...I had an idea. A stupid, foolish, idiotic idea that would surely result in the death of all involved if it didn't work.
But it *was* an idea.
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You're body, though appearing young feels the years of transformations. As you walk across the floor you can remember your first time being stabbed, your first time changing even. The night you changed not knowing what your body was doing. Feeling like your body was going to explode. Now here You are in what some would call a "Comfortable" life and it's being taken. Your first thought is easy "Rip this new lord to pieces" a thought easily channeled by rage. A more curious thought harbor's itself moments later. You could turn this new lord, turning him into the monster he sees you as.
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lnzngjr
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lnzjmf6
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[WP] your a super Villian/super hero who's partner just died. When the funeral was supposed to be attended, nobody came, except for one person, your arch nemesis, who came there to comfort you through these tough times
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It's always one last job, one last heist, one last assassination. Then, living out the rest of your days in peace. The problem, of course, is that there is always another last job. This last job after the last job though? It wasn't some grand heist of the world's riches, it wasn't some fantastic plot to take over a country with a prototype war machine, it wasn't even some massive and violent battle with the Righteous Regiment. Reese Edmond had done everything Alexander Albright, best known as the archvillain Solar Saber, had ever asked of him, and was getting out of the underworld.
Alexander had given him his blessing to leave the world of crime behind, had his best hackers working on rewriting Reese's public history to give him the best chance possible of walking away to a life he chose. The last job of Reese Edmond's criminal career, and quite unfortunately, of his life, had been picking up a goddamn box of cinnamon rolls and a cake for his retirement party. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time when a battle between two underworld families sparked right outside of the bakery and he caught a bullet in the spine.
When it became publicly known that the Solar Saber's right hand man, his top lieutenant, and quite honestly his best friend had been killed, the streets went dead silent. No one wanted to catch *his* attention. Even the heroes, righteous bastards that they are, were keeping quiet. Maybe that was why no one showed up for Reese's funeral. Alexander stayed at the funeral home for the whole day without a single other person showing up to pay their respects. He had been well-liked in the underworld, as far as Alexander could tell, and yet no one showed up for him. Well, one person had shown their face, and not even just their lantern-jaw.
"I am in no mood to deal with your preaching, Star Knight," Alexander sighed deeply, not even turning to face his greatest foe, "Suffice to say, I've had a rough week."
Star Knight shifted uncomfortably in the door, adjusting his black suit before stepping into the room, "I'm not here to tell you that you can be a better man, Alex, and I'm certainly not here to fight today. I thought you might need someone to talk to." With his arms at a slight angle, he cocked his head, "Am I wrong?"
Alexander almost imperceptibly changed his position at the rail separating the casket from the rest of the room, "And why, precisely, would I want to talk to you, of all people?" His head drooped slightly, "We have nothing left to discuss, unless you're going to try to stop me from laying waste to the Brunotti and Antonov families."
"Honestly? While I would prefer you not darken the Albright name further with mass slaughter, I don't think there's much I could do to stop you at this point," Star Knight crossed the room to stand near the notably-slimmer Solar Saber, "Reese was a good man, even if he associated with an utter bastard like you."
"You're not wrong on either point there, you sanctimonious shit," Alexander grinned a little.
"Guilty as charged, I suppose. I'll never admit to agreeing with you," Star Knight leaned on the rail.
"Y'know, he was out. He had a plot of land picked out, I was going to have one of my legitimate businesses build him a house as a retirement gift."
"Hell of a lot nicer than a pocket watch."
Alexander chuckled a bit at this before breaking down completely, "He'd still be alive if I'd gone instead. We both know it. Hell, if he'd just had his armor still..."
"We're considerably more durable than normal humans," Star Knight turned his gaze to his nemesis, the bane of his existence, but most importantly a deeply hurt man, "But you can't get stuck on the what-ifs here, little brother. Mourn the friend you lost, but don't lose yourself in the grief."
"I am above such shameful melodrama, Rudy!" Solar Saber growled, "... Why are you grinning?"
"No reason," Rudy Albright responded, "You look and sound like you could use a drink, Alex. How about we give the paparazzi something that's worth taking a picture of?"
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"Come to gloat?"
The service had broken, the minister giving his condolences to the young man that stood facing the headstone. Cemetery attendants waited patiently, knowing that it could take some time before they'd be able to fill in the hole, covering the beautiful ebony coffin with dirt, and closing the chapter of a story that had ended far too soon.
The young man's face was blank. No doubt the shock he had been experiencing since the tragedy lingered, seeping through the body, and embedding in his very bones. No one had attended, his fault really; he couldn't announce this to the world, not with who he was. It was still a shame though...she held no family, outside of the one they had hoped to create one day.
Leaves crunched from behind, a stranger coming up beside him and causing the first feeling he'd had for the last few weeks. Tension.
He knew exactly who this was.
"Come to gloat?" he asked, the sneer ever ready when dealing with this person.
"Support," was the answer. "I would've come sooner. I regret that I didn't."
"Spare me."
The two stood in silence, their focus on the name before them. The dates of life. Barely thirty. Still in the prime of her life. "Janey was..."
"Do not say her name," the first man growled, his head turning only a fraction as a warning. "What're you doing here?"
"As I said," the second replied, his head turned to fully address the other. "For support." He turned back to stare at the headstone. "I'm honestly worried about you, Kroy."
The chuckle held no happiness. "Worried that I will use this to wreck even more havoc on the city?" he scoffed. "Oh, you can be sure of that. Because there is someone out there who is responsible for this. I will find them. And I will kill them. And I will kill anyone who gets in my way."
The other man sighed. "You know I can't let you do that."
"Then you shouldn't have come."
The two faced each other, not unlike their previous encounters, though the power shift seemed very apparent. Instead of the confidence normally held by the second man, he was truly conflicted in this case. He saw the fury, the hatred, the unbridled anger that begged, pleaded to be released. Kroy wasn't completely evil. Misguided, yes, evil, not quite.
Their entanglements usually didn't hurt others, definitely not each other, and the second man always felt that his nemesis was just bored. That's why he did what he did. He was dangerous, no doubt, but in an intellectual way that was geared more towards seeking justice against those who wouldn't face any. Honestly, he hated having to face him sometimes.
After what felt like infinity, Kroy deflated. The mask slipped and the grief was clear to see. "Go home, Mason," he whispered. He turned back to stare at the headstone. "Go home."
The man named Mason, the Crimson Heart of Hollis City, only nodded. He raised his arm, the thought to perhaps pat his counterpart on the shoulder as he passed, but he let it drop helplessly. The Mastermind had stated his intentions and, as the Heart walked away, the superhero couldn't help but shudder.
This would not end well.
Not at all.
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j8l88zq
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j8kwlj7
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[WP] You were kidnapped by a villain and he gloats about how you're bait for his arch-nemesis, and you'll be dead soon. You sigh and just look at him. "Buddy, its not that hero you need to worry about....its my wife." and he looks at you perplexed.
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"I've been watching goodlight for sometime and *he* keeps an eye on you. Clearly you mean something to him, so here I have you as bait. And just as he arrives, I will kill you in front of him before darkening his light forever!"
John was still a little groggy from the drug, strapped to this chair while nitefight monologued.
"...You think I'm... Important to goodlight? Like, personally?"
"Yes I believe that's what I just explained" nitefight snapped
"Ah, no. He is just assigned to me, us, actually, it's his job to keep tabs on us. We are not friends. Look just let me go before you get in trouble, you clearly don't know how things work around here"
"I give you points for bluffing, but you aren't going to talk your way out of here. You and your wife will..."
"Wait, my wife?!?" John interrupted. "You did NOT bring her here, did you???"
"Yes, of course!" Nightlight snapped again, annoyed by the interruptions and lack of intimidation this normy displayed... "Goodlight watches both of you, I wasn't sure if both of you were important but it won't matter once goodlight gets" nitefight was cut off yet again.
"Buddy, It's not that hero you need to worry about... It's my wife! You really MUST be new here. If I were..."
"SILENCE!!" It doesn't matter how long I've been here or *how things work here!* I will make my name by taking down my nemesis tonight!"
...
"Have you heard of "Geppetto"?" John asked quietly.
Nitefight paused a half second before replying cautiously. "Yes? What does a supervillain have to do with anything?"
"He is my wife's Godfather, and he is very protective of her" John said almost gently.
Nitefight felt cold and sick, he paled. "Wha...what? No, I never saw him or his men near her!" He sounded desperate, as if he could make it untrue.
"Well we don't get together often, Jess wants to stay out of the villain world, but we are still close. It's why Goodlight keeps tabs on us, he is assigned to by the heros"
Nitefight rushed over undoing the straps frantically. "Nononono! you have to tell him, it was a mistake!!! I would never! Your wife! We'll go free her! I'll never..." His frantic and terrified babbling stopped as he was turning to run to the door, his limbs and body suddenly standing at an odd angle, as if his dead weight was being held up for him, as if he was a puppet. "No!" He squeaked "I'm sorry! I didn't know!" The door opened and a large man stepped in.
"John." He nodded to John who was now standing unsteady by the table.
John spoke quickly. "He didn't know, must be new here, can't you just let..." The large man held up his hand and John stopped, dropping his shoulders. An invisible force pulled a babbling and pleading Nitefight out through the door as if by strings.
"Can you walk John?" The large man asked.
John could hear screams from somewhere.
"I think so. Are you sure you can't just..." John started again.
"How about you let me worry about my business and you mind yours, John. I took him out of the room because I know you're *sensitive*. Jess is already on her way out, she insisted I come find you myself. Let's go." Geppetto turned toward the door.
"Yes papa G. Thank you."
|
"Listen, Mr. Dane," the captive man, pleaded, arms tied behind him as he sat in a rather uncomfortable chair, legs also tied together, "Just let me go and we can all forget about this mess."
Cameras were placed above, pointing at the dishevelled man in a clear Livestream to display the evil taking place.
The man in question was bout middle age, with a slightly worn face and a few greys speckling the normally blue-black hair.
A taller gentleman, wearing a rather nice suit, despite there being no occasion to do so, flicked his victim's nose, "Oh don't worry, sweetheart," his voice was full of a fake sickly sweet tone, "You'll be home in time for supper. I just needed a world famous archeologist to get the attention of the planet..."
The villain's monologue was cut short by a wry chuckle from his hostage, who was now trying to work his bindings free.
"What?!" The suited man growled, giving the other a glare and raising a remote to indicate that he could open the trap doors at any moment, sending the famed archeologist into a tank of hungry sharks.
"Hm?" Aforementioned victim looked up, eyes wide but unable to hide a mischievous grin, "Oh yeah. Well, it's actually the Mrs and the kids you should really worry about." At least he stopped struggling at the knots.
Raising an eyebrow, Mr. Dane adjusted his suit sleeves with a huff, "My wife and children aren't your concern Doctor-"
Before another word could be spoken a shrill scream could be heard, followed by a loud crash. With all hairs on end, Mr. Dane slowly turned to see his nemesis...and two young children?
"DAD!" The two girls ran to their father, only stopping a brief moment to give the villain a few hard smacks to the torsoe and one to the-
"Biscuits..." Mr. Dane allowed himself to crumple on the ground, not daring to press his Shark Tank Button with *children* present. He was pretty sure they went to school with his kids anyway.
"Mr. Dane," the woman stepped forward, stopping just in his now bleary sight, "I expected some.shenanigans. But involving my husband? On a school night?" She tsk'd and stepped over him to embrace her family.
Naturally, by the time the secret agent looked back from her family the man was gone. But she wasn't going to mention that one to her boss.
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jiqzytc
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jiq5kac
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[WP] A lesser God has bestowed you the power to erase your memory but only of works of fiction. It's a mediocre gift, but you get to enjoy your favorite movies and books anew. Settling down to enjoy your favorite fantasy book/movie, you once again invoke your gift. The memory does not fade.
|
After a full month, I knew something was wrong. Sure, the power was given to me by some lesser God, but it was a God nonetheless. How does a simple book, written by some unknown author, be able to counter this power?
Worse yet, it wasn't even a particularly good book! In fact, the story was *so bad* that I threw the book in the trash, and wanted to forget right away... and I couldn't. And after a month, I read it again and again. Still, no clue why my power doesn't manifest.
So I did the next steps: experiment. Read a page, tried to forget. Nothing. Another page, tried to forget it. This time, it worked. After about an hour, I had a full list of the first 10 pages which I could not really forget - two pages. Then, on these two pages, I boiled down to the paragraph. Only one paragraph on the first page, and two paragraphs on the fourth page were the ones I could not forget at all.
Then came the longest game of scrabble I always had. Find words. Individual words I could forget; combinations of them, no. Then I wrote on some paper slips each combination of word. I found that "expected found person" was a combination that, no matter how, I could not forget.
Then, I tried letters. "efp", "exp f p", with or without spaces, and tried and tried and tried, until I found the combination.
I've been on this process for a couple of years now. I'm almost done with the book. With some combinations, the lights flicker. On others, I see things. I'm not sure if I'm going insane, but I can swear that some of these words make images appear on my head, like if their nonsensical words somehow evoke messages on my head. Combining these pseudo-phrases cause me horrible, *horrible* headaches sometimes, and I can see... things.
Things that I'm not meant to see.
I know there's someone on my room, looking at me. I can't see, hear, or feel this creature at all, but I know it. With some word combinations, I can see shadows, shadows of things that shouldn't be here.
And I know, that soon, I'll have power to kill Gods... and I'm scared of what I'll do with it.
|
The first time, it was a curious joy. To know that somewhere out there, a wardrobe really did have a world beyond it. The second time, it was less of a surprise, but still a pleasant thought that men had explored so deep within the planet.
But it started to get weird. Some of this should be verifiable, right? There weren't toilets in the right place to be swished away to a magical Ministry. I went to check! Other verifiable details couldn't be confirmed! But the memory would not fade, no matter how carefully I invoked the Power.
Then, so many comics and movies came out, talking about the Multiverse. Well, duh! That must be it. These unforgettable truths weren't here, but just somewhere! What a relief! I tested it, of course. Nope, there's still that memory of loads of Lokis battling in a basement. That was confirmation enough for me! I started to worry less about intelligent apes taking over, or zombie plagues wiping out *my* world.
But then I noticed my favorite daily news report was marked Read. Yep, same as all the other Daily News Email reports for the last week.
I can't remember any of them.
I think things are gonna get really weird soon.
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lhuz0z4
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lhuy4d7
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[WP] "As promised, your mother has been restored to perfect health and in exchange you will give me your firstborn" The Fey declared as she looked down at you. You nod at her and reply: "Great, when do we start then?"
|
The look in her eyes was all I needed, the questioning, the shock, followed by the horror. "What, you said you wanted my firstborn. I am single, you are single, I figured we could mingle." I just shrugged. The slackjawed- eyebrow raised, nostril flaring rage that she was holding back nearly broke my composure. It took everything inside me not to burst out with laughter.
The Fey were not the only ones who could play tricks. If they can, so could I. The deal never stated whom the child had to be birthed to, and the now tightness in her jaw suggested she knew exactly what that little loophole meant.
"Why, Edmond, I am not so sure that is-" She pursed her lips, her paper white skin pinkening behind her words, "I- I mean are you sure that is what you would like?" Her silvery wings flittered ever so slightly, making them just barely visible to my eyes for a moment. Her glossy blonde hair shifted in the breeze that swept gently by, my eyes cast up to the beautiful sky.
"Yes ma'am. I won't be giving you one otherwise. Because there is one thing you did not know before we made this deal, you see. I am gay." I finally let the grin split my lips, the sheer fury that darkened her otherwise gentle features was swiftly replaced by a menacing grin. She had an ace up her sleeve, too.
"Well, then, Dearest Edmond. I propose a change in the contr-" I cut her off, wagging my finger through the air. "No. No changes. I promised my firstborn. The seed which I carry is the only thing that will satiate the contract- correct? Which means, unless you break the contract, leaving my end secured and you empty handed...." I shuffled my feet back and forth as a chill seemed to split the air between us.
"What makes you believe your end has to be fulfilled if I break our contract? I really do not believe you understand the position you put yourself in." She obviously thought I had not read through every clause, every page, every sentence in not only the contract, but the Fey law, which is unbearably stiff minded and unbreakable. "If I have to break our contract....."
"Order 453, by decree of the Fey King Adarios Armentine Dupont- If any Fey being creates a contract which they themselves break for any reason, they must uphold their end without retaliation to the contractee nor those dearest to them, and without reaping the bounty of which they sought through dastardly means. Punishable by the removal of their wings/horns/talons/ ect and banishment from the Fey realm." I cleared my throat before continuing. "And in no way have i broken the contents of the contract, myself. Mind you I have not told you I will not give you my firstborn, I have simply told you that if you wish for it soon, you must have it yourself. As I am not interested in females of my own kind.
I could see the veins bulging from the side of her temple, she was trying- and failing- to think of some way to negate my words. "Nowhere in our binding contract does it state a timeframe, nor limitation on when I have to fulfill my end of the bargain. Nowhere does it state that it has to be fulfulled with any particular species. You have two choices here, Miss Eveline, break the contract from your end, or give yourself my first born."
|
I looked as color returned to my mother's pale face.
She groaned, but then her frown eased, and turned to her side, continuing to sleep.
"As promised, your mother has been restored to perfect health.
In exchange you will give me your firstborn.", the Fey standing next to me said.
She smirked at me, staring directly in my eyes.
I stood up, and nodded.
"Great, when do we start then?", I asked.
She tilted her head, making her spring green hair gently move.
Her eyes like stars continued to unblinkingly stare at me.
"What do you mean?", she asked.
"Well, you want my firstborn.
So, when do we make this child?", I asked, smiling at her.
She looked at me, and then laughed.
Moving away her hair that was used as coverage, she showed me her naked body in all its glory.
She danced, and swayed...before raising her leg high up.
I gulped, being unable to look away...and then...she kicked me in the head.
I fell down.
"What...", I muttered, trying to look up at her, but she stepped on me.
"Seriously...what's wrong with you mortals?
You see me do a miracle, see me fly, and tame the elements...and all you can think about is sex?", she asked, pressing my head into the floor.
I groaned, and couldn't answer as my face was almost one with the floor.
She lifted her feet, and sighed.
"Talk.", she said.
"You didn't specify how you want my firstborn...and...
I am not married nor in a relationship, so it wasn't a random idea.", I said.
She snorted.
"Might have had a chance if you were of a pure heart.
If you started with this information, and asked for a resolution, but no.
You went straight to bedding me, so no, no matter how you see us Fey, we aren't that..."easy", so the deal shall change.
I shall take something else.", she said, as she walked up to mother, and gently kissed her forehead.
"Farewell, you pervert.", she said, disappearing.
I sighed, but then I heard mom move.
"Hey...how are you?", I asked, helping her sit up.
She stared and stared at me, then my world shattered, as she asked me one question.
"Excuse me...but who are you? And what are you doing in my house?", my mother asked, and I simply stopped thinking...
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k5gf3mn
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k5gerdm
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[WP] A deity has had enough and is ready to die, however one tiny human still calls their name in prayer, forcing this deity to exist. The deity now attempts to help the tiny human in order to finally fade away.
|
A lonely god drifted through the ether, tired, but so close to that rest it was promised. Close to the peace of the end. It’s final follower was an old man, unable to spread his belief to his family, and now he was about to pass on. And when he did, it would follow.
But dread filled the god, as right when the man began to fade, a new name focused their intent on the god. It’s follower’s grandson. Had the man been able to spread the religion after all?
But then the prayer came, and the god was relieved.
“Hey, uh, I know you’re probably not real, but, uh, if you exist, can you, like, help me pass my test? Please, I really can’t fail this one, my mom’s gonna be pissed.”
He didn’t truly believe, the god knew, it was just the prayer of a nonbeliever. If the god answered it too well, it ran the risk of getting another follower. But still, this was his follower’s grandson. It knew the man. It was the closest thing to a companion it had, after it’s godly companions faded.
The god would help, but it would need to be subtle.
The god looked at the situation. The grandson was sitting down for the test right then, for the subject of Calculus. The boy had not studied, and would surely fail on his own. The boy even knew this. The god could not lead him to the right answers, it decided, it would be too much of a risk for another follower.
That left more indirect methods. The teacher and his assistant’s watchful eyes would make the boy too nervous for any attempt at cheating. But if he made the teacher feel sick…
The teacher would leave for the bathroom. He would think it would be quick trip, but the god would make sure it lasted long enough for the boy.
That only left the assistant. She was… well, bored, it seemed. Before the god could even influence her, she had already pulled out a phone. She would occasionally glance up, but at the door, not the students, checking for when the teacher would come back.
Well, that was simple. Now, the god only had to slightly nudge the boy’s feelings, increase his desperation a tad, and place a tiny drop of manic hope, and sure enough, the boy pulled out his phone as well.
After 30 minutes, the boy had his test finished with a passing grade, and the teacher came back into the room, still looking quite green. The god nodded, he had helped the boy, but the boy would not think it to be the god’s intervention. It was ready to finally fade.
|
To say that little Charlie was weird, was an understatement.
Whilst only 5, his parents honestly believed there was an old 45-year-old historian was trapped in his soul, the only reason why they didn't seek out an exorcist was because he was still a normal dinosaur nugget loving boy. Charlie loved making up words, his verbal-dexterity was impressive at his young age. He hated most normal words and instead would try to replace humdrum words with exciting replacements. Bacon became Bexliticka, Mother became Thxxisxisli ( Which she found terrifying ) but most importantly, he re-named Santa to be Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli.
In a very strange turn of fate, a turn of fate that a god would be proud of, this small 5-year-old child had guessed the name of an Aztec god. And whilst Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli didn't entirely understand why his blood sacrifices have turned into requests for V-Bucks, he understood this needed to be stopped.
In a flash, the Morning Star of Venus appeared in front of Charlie, who was picking his nose at the time.
"BEHOLD CHILD, I AM HERE!" The scary god boomed.
"You look stupid" Charlie, unfazed, stated
Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli wasn't insulted...Ever. He had been feared mostly, and now this pants-shitting child had insulted him.
"ENOUGH, TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT"
"Ice cream"
"BEHOLD VANILLA - Now shut up"
Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli vanished. However, Charlie just thought the coke commercial was out of date.
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j53ju8p
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j53j4t6
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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?
|
No one really understood my powers , everyone kind of thought I just coasted through classes but that I was constantly called to the head office and that things just always worked out for me, the only person who knows is the headmaster , they can exist out of space time so they kind of know when my power has been used… well most of the time… sometimes it exceeds even there capabilities… see my power keeps me safe at all times and life will rewind and change the flow of events to try and save me if I’m ever hurt badly… was Jerry going to punch me with a steam powered punch? And did it cause enough damage ? Suddenly events change and it just so happens someone swings a door open in his face and like magic I fully am healed from any damage. If it’s something major enough like me dying, well my powers reset me even further back, I like to call this one “reloading”, it’s the one that even the headmaster doesn’t fully know about.
The headmaster knows I can’t control it , sometimes people have gotten badly hurt by it , Tiana accidentally got a few broken bones when instead of kicking me she managed to kick the iron wall of Hank just happening to walk by.
But today something felt strange , and the headmaster seemed uneasy as he motioned me into his office.
“ I have a task for you and it’s only for you “
I was puzzled , my powers never really were good for “tasks” more like a reset if things went wrong
“ umm what exactly can I do for you , am I a fail safe again for everyone to think just was along for the ride?”
He looked over to me and shook his head
“No I’m afraid this time you are the main show in a sense , you mentioned once if you died that the world wouldn’t just change so events didn’t happen but you could actually go back and change them right, I know it’s happened before but even I can’t find where in the multiverse it happened in all of space time , it’s like your power erases and resets the universe , the only way I know is because I can see something is gone “
I was a bit surprised he knew, but he had complete control over his power and would frequently jump between timelines and universes but I never heard him explain it that way before
“ well what exactly is it that you want from me then ? That power only works when I die “
“Precisely , and die you will on this task , many times probably”
I was shocked , what task could he have for me to intentionally die?
He looked over at me with grief in his eyes
“ everyone was poisoned in the school , including you , and the culprit is someone like me… that can exist out of space time…. And sadly I can’t stop them … only you can find them and corner them… and erase them… “
That feeling I had…. Was it the poison? Is that why several staff and students were out sick today and everyone seemed out of it? I looked up to see the headmaster walking toward me before I felt a sharp pain in my chest with his hand phased through it
“ this will be less painful then the poison , it’s a mercy really , you know your task, save us….”
His last words resonating as the universe around me crumbled away and I felt myself fade
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je9z3hf
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je9wf59
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[WP] For some reason, you are kidnapped and put into an isolated chamber. The kidnappers expect you to go insane and fess up, but little do they know you are so happy to finally be able to daydream 24/7.
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"I suppose at some point we should at least *try* to escape."
"Escape? *Escape?* My brother, we're in Malibu! The sun! The sand! The ocean! The *women!*"
"You do of course know that we are not in Malibu right now."
"Right yes I do know tha--"
"We are locked in a room somewhere in Connecticut."
"Yeah no you're right I just--"
"It has been three days since we've seen the light of the sun."
"I'm just having a bit of fun with it, y'know?"
"I'll say."
"Is that so wrong? To enjoy my time here?"
"In captivity, you mean?"
"We're all captives! That's why they call it Captivalism!"
"They don't call it that."
"I'm just saying, they have to at least feed us or we'll die before talking, they have to house us so we won't be discovered... our basic needs are being met, free of charge!"
"I feel like a few levels to Maslow's hierarchy of needs are neglected during forced captivity."
"Not if we use the power of *imagination!*"
"You've gone mad. Three days in here and you've gone totally mad."
"If 'going mad' means I'm on a beach in Malibu, then I'm Hannibal fucking Lecter!"
"Again, not on a beach. You're alone, in a locked room, with an increasingly large pile of shit in the corner."
"Don't bring up shit-corner, it shatters the illusion."
"There's no illusion! None of this is real! *I'm* not even real! You've retreated into the confines of your own mind in a desperate attempt to maintain some sense of control over your situation, when the truth is you are doing *really* poorly right now!"
"I am not! Just as soon as I get out of this room I'll be back on my feet!"
"Oh, oh good. So get out of this room then."
"No."
"And *there's* our problem."
"There's no problem! Malibu!"
"There *is* no Malibu! You can't keep hiding from reality like this!"
"Now you listen to me, pal. You are a part of *my* escapist fantasy, and you will ACT like--"
"You're diving into escapist fantasies without even trying to actually escape!"
"How am I supposed to escape? This room is impregnable!"
"You haven't so much as checked if the *door* is locked!"
"Well excuse me for believing in people! For believing our captors are competent!"
"God, you'll do anything to avoid reality, won't you? You're not afraid of being trapped in here, you're afraid of going back!"
"Shut up."
"You're afraid of the bills, and the responsibilities, and the social interactions--"
"Shut *up!*"
"You're gonna die in this dark, rancid, windowless room because you're too *afraid* to face the world outside!"
***"SHUT UP!"***
...
God. Okay. Yeah, it does smell pretty bad in here.
|
I’ve always known that my past actions would catch up to me one way or the other, I just assumed I would be killed in the battlefield, tortured maybe, not go through all that insane journey to be kidnapped over a decade later.
It all started last Tuesday when I was returning to my shithole of an apartment after yet another day of pretending to be somebody I’m not, I reached the corner-store well aware of some random car following me, yet I shrugged it off, ‘Meh, worst case scenario, I’ll have an excuse to beat someone down’, I thought to myself, next thing I know I’m here in this featureless cement cube with voices barking at me, telling me to share all the information I have on ‘M’, an old war-brother that I hadn’t communicated with in years…
A few hours in, and various attempts later to make me fess up, I realized, pacing around my cell, that my capturers knew almost nothing about me, other than my ties to M, as this wasn’t my first rodeo, not after being held captive multiple times during that god-forsaken war, not after that asylum, not after…
That’s when it hit me, it’s been ages since it was this quiet inside my head, it’s been ages since I’ve taken my last trip to that beautiful world I’ve constructed to escape all that surrounded me, it’s been eons since I’ve been with my real family, well, their ghosts at least…
A smile is suddenly painted on my face, as I sit down, crossing my legs beneath me, humming an old song about my city’s ruins, eyes wide shut as the light fills up every cell of my existence, I am finally home again…
To be continued… or maybe not…
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k9pmb29
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k9pjt1z
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[WP] You recently discovered that your father, whom you never knew, is actually a crime-fighter with no free time, and he is unaware that you are his son. In order to talk to him, you become a villain.
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The whizzing air would have blown out my ears under normal circumstances, but I didn't mind. What annoyed me was the storm that he flew through. My eyes were shut so tight, they nearly froze going through the clouds. My cybernetic ear implants continued to buzz in my ear, blocking out moisture and the speed of the wind, the only remaining comfort I had.
The mechanical prototype suit had been shredded, and the leather harness that strapped me to the protective roll cage had produced less than adequate results. Something to reinforce to confor-
The air got warmer as we dropped below the clouds, the overcast sky becoming more grey as we descended. I smiled and blinked to get the wetness out of my eyes. *I must get ahead of myself and install the new implants to avoid this discomfort. Setting me down gently in a small steel cage, the man that I came to know as my Father found his own spot. Roughly ten paces away, a small chamber rose from the ground, the grass dead from the constant use. A mini-fridge appeared.
"Still drinking the blue flavour? That's my favourite."
His silent continued as he chugged a bottle of it. Then another. I fidgetted to scratch an irritation in my back before he turned to me. "You're going to jail. For good."
I smiled. "Nice to see you too Robert Lang." He scowled, then narrowed his eyes.
"How do you know that name." He growled as he walked closer, hard steps kicking up sand. I continued to smile.
"Birth certificate. Mum gave it to me when I was ten. You remember Becca, right?" My teeth, polished only yesterday by my dentist, gleaned white in the sun. "She's still practicing you know."
His face turned scarlet. "What kind of trick is this?!" He ripped the steel bars apart and picked me up by what was left of my collar. "Who are you?"
"Your son."
He looked at me, deep into the sockets of my eyes. He softened. His grip loosened, and dropped me to the floor. His eyes were thoughtful, tracing back the numerous flings, vacation romances, the by-gones and the smooches on the cheeks, the moments of peace and solitude. You could hardly blame him. Moving from one moment to the next, from one villain to the next. His eyes rose to meet mine again.
"Another one. Again. Huh." He stepped back to give me space again, and looked over me. "You became this to what, talk to me?"
I stood, uneasily as my left hip's pain rose sharply with the movement. There was likely a rib fracture as it hurt somewhat to breath on that side. Maybe a strain? I must re-eva-
"What kind of kid goes through the effort of inventing a mecha suit to destroy a city?" He interupted my thought.
I chuckled softly, softly enough for my chest to rest easy. "One that demands attention from my Father I guess?" He smirked at that briefly.
He sighed, waving me to follow him. The mini-fridge rose again to the surface. Handing me one of the bottles, he stated, "You're still going to jail."
|
Chunks of drywall and chipped off wood litter the floor. The hero walks in through the hole he made in the wall, each step confident yet cautious of unknown dangers. He uses his enhanced vision to scan through the lingering smoke and dimness. There are toys and diapers and baby bottles blown around. Confusion strikes the hero first then anger.
"What kind of villain would harm a baby?!" he yells with genuine fury.
As if triggered like a gun, a deep chuckle rises from across the room where even the moon light refuses to touch.
"Villain?" The deep voice slowly nears the hero. What was that odd rattling sound? "Aren't you the villain here for trespassing on private property?"
The hero takes a defensive stance and awaits for the villain to reveal himself. Since his intelligence team could only pick up the familiar ominous calling card from their scanners, he knew he had to approach the situation carefully or risk tearing a family apart so soon. He prioritizes rescuing the child first (possibly any other hostages since this villain could've kidnapped the rest of this family to slow him down) and, if the fight gets to dangerous for the baby, a quick escape to the closest safe house.
As the hero was devising his plan, he missed how the outline of the shadowy figure was... short. Like super short.
Another chuckle rose deep from the villain. "Aren't you also a villain for abandoning a family in the guise of the 'greater good'?"
An infant dressed in a black onesie with a short red cape waddled out into the light in a blue and black... baby walker? "Tonight shall be the last night you ever leave this family again!"
As the vil- baby maniacally laughed, the door to the room slammed wide open. A woman with braided red hair and mismatching clothes (is that spit up on her shirt?) barges in, shrieking, "Jacob Amy Ramos, Jr.! You better NOT be in here making explosives again!"
Oh heavens above, that's Mavis!
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jimczia
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jikrl96
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[WP] The Galactic Overlords have pitted humanity and all the other "violent deathworlder" species against one another in the hope we will wipe each other out. They did not expect us to instead begin cooperating with each other almost immediately.
|
"Breathern. Citizens. Comrades."
Silence echoed in the Assembly.
"For untold eons, we were ridiculed,-"
///
_"The savagery of these canines cannot be tolerated, for the benefit of the Greater Specie-"_
///
"-exploited, subject to profiteering,"
///
_"You avians are to serve us for 800 of your solar cycles for our gracious magnanimity in uplifting your inferior Species-"_
///
"-culled."
///
_"Coordinates confirmed."_
_"Fire,"_
_"-but Lord! They are our-"_
_a light flashed_
_"Fire,"_
///
"No, more. Between righteousness and false peace, we choose righteousness."
///
The Interspecies Federation Navy gathered in the embrace of Sol VI's lunar satellite Titan, which was being strip mined by redirected Sunlight from the human Dyson Swarm^1. The kilometer-wide mirrors condensed the golden-orange light of Sol into a sky blue beam of hyper-concentrated thermal and electric energy, which then was received by O-Neill Cyclinder Energy Redirectors, made from repurposed obsolete colonies. They in turn distributed the energy to ground-based facilities mining the hydrocarbons and metals of the moon and the rings of asteroids around the planets
Afterall, multi-kilometer length ships need a lot of material.
Neutronium-laced Carbon-Nanotubes, made from oceans of hydrocarbons. Thankfully, Titan had hundreds of times more of it than Sol III^2 , the humans' homeworld.
**Visitation Requested**
"Oh well, my break was nice."
As I tore my gaze from the millions of naval vessels mustered and still mustering outside my office window, the door began to open.
///
|
Pack bonding killed with Overlords.
One human versus a drone swarm? Well, let them TAKE OVER THE PLANET.
Two humans and a Krafall took a solar system. Three, a hyperlane. Four... they died. They still tried, though.
And then eight billion humans and every single person wronged by the overlords... Well, there's a reason why Sol is the only star in deep space, beyond the reach of Andromeda.
And now, now, now some other humans opened an inter-dimensional portal, and they're all talking about 'SCPs' and 'Furrys.'
I, as god of the local supercluster, quit. You deal with them, Omni. I'm out.
|
jhs295w
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jhrsxuz
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[WP] God is all of us, literally. The power of a god is divided evenly between all humans. The last human alive creeps out of the ashes of nuclear war.
|
Before the war, before humanity had been all but eradicated, Noah had collected trading cards. Now he collected bodies.
Even without man around, the occasional bomb still fell: a distant, deafening screech and roar, a lightning-flash eruption, the tremble of ground as man scarred the earth again, again, this time from beyond the grave. How quiet, Noah wondered, would it sound once all the automated responses were run dry?
The sky hazed purple-black with clouds that swirled like soup to a wooden spoon. Beneath them, Noah creaked his wheelbarrow, stopping here and there to add a body or a limb. He’d been working for months. God — the first one — had only worked for days, but he’d started from fresh. Noah was starting with hell, and hell didn’t transform into Eden so easily.
Sometimes, as he gathered the bodies, his old life would spike in his memory and he’d think of the dead as the cards he’d once cherised, wonder if he’d collected one like this already, one missing that, one in such pristine condition. Then he’d think: what’s wrong with me? They were people.
​
Noah had failed. No, that wasn’t right. The old god — the first that had split into many — had failed. Noah was him but not. That first god had been through billions of iterations since he’d created humanity, had lived as each of his creations and witnessed existence through myriad lenses. Noah was the end result of all that filtering. He now held something of every view, and surely with that experience he could do better.
​
He buried the latest batch of bodies in Second Eden — a slither of coastal land with a fuzzed shield over it that evaporated the nukes that attempted to ruin it.
New plants were already sprouting above older mounds, some budding. Noah lost himself for a while in the pruning and weeding. These plants, if looked after, would fruit. And each fruit would be imbued with part of Noah. They would weaken him, sharing his life and power and existence.
They would not look like humanity this time. And they would have to return to their plants after a time away, for if their plant grew sick then so would they. They would be meak in comparison. But the meak must inherit.
It was a strange idea, Noah knew. But humanity hadn’t understood how connected they were to the planet the first time around. There was too much distance between them, although there was also none. But this link, this necessity to take care of the earth and flowers and sky…
It probably wouldn’t work, but Noah had no better ideas.
He could be the last God, he supposed. Share it with no one. But then what was the point of Him?
Funny, he thought, how all the people on earth were once all the same person. That they were all in essence the same. And yet, for no reason at all, they forged differences, based them on the strangest things, like the patch of land they were born, or the shade of skin or hair.
He thought he heard the whistling of a bomb and grimaced at the thought of his shield failing. But the skies were silent — no bombs falling even in the distance.
Instead, it had been the shrill cry of the first fruit of his new crop.
Noah felt himself weaken. Felt his responsibility lessen. Let a smile take his lips as he plucked the first child from the first plant and rocked her gently in his arms. The plant coiled around them both, motherly, tenderly. The earth and humanity — new humanity — were now together.
Noah looked at the swirling sky above the dome, then down at the sapling child, and thought: perhaps this time.
|
He did it.
It was unmistakable, the crackle of power that courses through his veins with every heartbeat. The growing awareness as his consciousness transcends to omniscience.
He was God.
The nascent God snaps his fingers, aware of the redundancy but still getting a feel for things, and everything clears away. At first, the bodies, the ash, the rubble, the fallout, but then the land, the sky, space, the universe, all of it. Soon enough, God himself is gone, his physical form in and of itself found redundant, especially in a barren canvas. Omnipotence mastered.
Going from a human brain to completely omniscient takes a bit more adjustment. It's not the letting go that is the troublesome bit, it's the simultaneity of everything that's hard to manage.
As he extends himself to the outer bounds of his new existence, though, he realizes the 'omni' bit is a little overstated. There are some exceptions, namely Time. He can't make it nonlinear, at least not in any meaningful ways to him, and he's not sure why.
Suddenly, he feels a presence. As his "omni"science kicks on, filling in the gaps of this momentary unknown, he's filled with delight. It's his buddy, Nroamg!
Words aren't so much spoken as the information they would convey simply begins to exist within their shared space as Nroamg greets his friend, "Hey, Hueyas, you finally manage a good end?"
"Not quite," Hueyas constructs in the ether. "I keep finding myself through violence. Sometimes it feels like I'm close, but it's hard to get the conditions right to unify all of my individuals through one of the other wincons."
Nroamg projects waves of understanding, "Yeah it's a tough one. I keep telling you, you either gotta increase your intelligence or decrease your numbers."
"What can I say, I love min intelligence runs, and that just lends itself well to a go-wide strat," Hueyas conveyed to Nroamg, who through Godly omniscience naturally already knew. "I'll switch up my build if I get bored."
"Okay, I'll see you around. And you'll see me. Because we're both everywhere, get it?" Nroamg reverberated through existence, pleased with the deluge of irony that comes from one omniscient being asking another if they understand an objectively unfunny omnipresence joke.
All Gods love ironic jokes, though, it's actually their favorite kind of humor, and Hueyas is no exception.
Hueyas diverted his attention back to creating a new universe to test a different set of conditions.
"What if I introduced cats earlier..." he mused, already aware of the answer.
|
k43i6na
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k41ypoc
|
[WP] You are the child of a superhero and a supervillain who was born after a one-night stand. your parents are always fighting about villain and hero things, until one day you end up blowing up at them.
|
“You still aren’t getting it! Irrespective of backgrounds, when faced with an ethical dilemma, most humans will choose the most ethical course. It is inherent in people to be good!”
“YOU still don’t get it! Human beings existing in a society will behave in a way that facilitates their continued existence in that society. Zorbon could assert his dominance over mankind at any time, but thereafter, would have to continually prove his supremacy in order to maintain his place! By abiding by the social contract, he is free to pursue his dreams (within reason) without being trod upon by others. But that isn’t good( For villains), we can’t just abide by the status quo! We need to vaporize some people to assert our supremacy! Otherwise who would take us seriously??? Zorbon is a joke!
I have heard this argument a million times, or a hundred, who knows. I’ve stopped counting. This is the inevitable result of a hero and a villain copulating. I am the inevitable result.
I’ve heard this argument too many times to count, literally, and tonight, I am done. Literally. So I explode.
Literally.
The parents are the first to go… well, not technically… technically the side table and the lamp are the first to go. They burst into flame, transforming from the mundane into bright pillars of light. My parents too. They match better now than they have ever matched before. Twin pires of brilliant yellow light, complimented by the blue flames shooting skyward from the area rug.
Blue??? What is in that thing to make it blue? Jesus! I’m getting cancer soon, huh?
Next is the monstera plant. Next the award for 4th most attentive student that my mom insisted on hanging. Next the rest of the house , the block, the neighbourhood… the fire just keeps on spreading, and it’s fine, honestly.
At least it’s finally quiet.
|
“Aaaand they’re at it again” her (much older and technically adopted) brother made a face as they both heard their mother yell. Their father hardly ever raised his voice but they could hear the growl if not his words. Grandfather sighed and disappeared into the next room, he always escaped to cooking to ignore these spats. Irritated from her workout being extra strenuous because of Father’s extra bad mood, she rubbed a towel extra vigorously over her black hair and marched into the room where her parents were.
“Can you both just CUT THE C$&@ and skip to the part where you are crazy about each other instead of just f#%*ing CRAZY?! I mean, god, I get it, the Wayne’s don’t do therapy, but f#%=, go suit up and beat the c#%+ out of some domestic abusers instead of making everyone else’s day worse!!”
She stalked off, but she heard her father snort. “Like mother, like daughter, eh Selena?”
“shush”
|
jv1i8nx
|
jv12z1n
|
[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"
|
The man only stares.
“A scholar?” He asks, seemingly baffled by the woman in front of him.
“Yes,” she says. “And as a scholar, it’s my duty to learn all I can. Hence.” She looks at the winding stairway in front of her that no doubt leads to a locked away princess. “Why I’m here.”
“So you’re not here to save the princess?”
The woman rolls her eyes. *How many times must she explain?* “I’m a scholar,” she reminds him. “Not a hero.”
“And you’re here… because?”
The woman sighs in frustration. Hadn’t they already been over this? “As I’ve said before, I wish to know why you’ve decided to kidnap the princess.”
“Oh yes.” The man laughs, shrill and mocking. It’s a poor attempt at sounding evil. “It’s all part of my master plan, you see. In capturing the most sought out lady in the land, I could lure all potential suitors to my tower and defeat them all myself! Then, the princess would surely see how perfect I am for her.”
The woman blinks. “Let me get this straight. You’re doing all this because you… want to marry the princess?”
The man nods enthusiastically. “Of course. She belongs to no one but myself. She deserves only the best, and *I* am the best.”
“I see.” The woman stares at the twisting staircase mere inches away from her. Briefly, she wonders what would meet her on the other side. She's heard tales of the fair maiden, of course, and part of her wonders how much of them are true. And well, she’s a scholar first, if nothing else.
“And you’ve defeated all of these… so-called heroes, as you put it?”
“Of course!” The man scoffs. He narrows his eyes at her. “Are you questioning my ability to defend?”
“Of course not,” the woman answers smoothly. “But conclusions require facts, and information is critical.”
Ahead of her, the floorboards creak.
“Conclusions?” The man asks, engrossed. “And what have you concluded exactly?”
The woman smiles. “That you’re all brawn and *no* brains.”
“Wh—” but the man is cut off by a sudden force behind him. He tumbles forward, tripping on nothing, before he falls onto the ground with a hard thud. And there, looming before him, is the princess.
“You thought you could get away with locking me up there?” She asks, body poised but breath deep and ragged. “You thought I’d just sit back and let you decide my future for me? Thought you didn’t have to worry about me, did you?” She spits in the man’s face. “News flash,” she says, pinning him back to the floor when he tries scrambling upright. “*I’m* the one you had to worry about.”
The man splutters, but a foot against his neck effectively cuts him off. “Not a word from you,” the princess says. “Lest we have to witness even more of your foolishness.” And with that, she unsheathes the man’s sword and slices his throat in half.
As crimson pools around the now still body, the princess takes a moment to collect herself before turning to meet the surprised gaze of the woman before her.
“A scholar, huh?”
The scholar hums. “They always *do* underestimate us.”
“How’d you like to change that?”
The scholar looks at the princess — sees the way she stares back unwavering and completely serious. The tales had been right, she decides. The woman *was* a warrior — and slowly smiles.
“I think I’d like that very much.”
—
/r/itrytowrite
Edit: Grammar, spelling
|
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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l9vnoxj
|
l9v7gq2
|
[WP] You're the healer of the group. The rest of the party has always treated you like you're made of glass. You were content to stay out of their way and let them do their thing. Until they all got downed leaving you the only one standing. That's when you show them how deadly healing magic can be.
|
Everyone "knows" what healing magic does. It closes wounds, mends bones and refreshes the mind. It is the hallmark ability of any cleric or white mage. It is enhanced by superior spellcasting ability and knowledge of medicine. It transforms mana into health. But - "what" - does healing magic actually do?
Rachel was surprised the orc chieftain didn't simply use his horrendous breath to kill his enemies.
"Heal my wounds wench or I leave you blood bags alive when you are being stewed tonight."
Rachel lay in the dirt, an especially grubby hand pushing her face into a rather sharp rock at the orc chieftains feet.
The previous prevailing theory is that healing magic enhanced the natural recovery of the body, effectively speeding up what would have naturally been fixed with time. However this theory did not explain why healers with first aid training would heal better than those without even with the same amount of mana.
Rachel glanced up from the ground. 300 pounds of mean, green monster stared at her. The only evidence of her party's struggles was bit of missing ear and a gash across the cheek. She was gunna give Leo so much shit for missing the neck on that swing.
A new theory has cropped up in closed circles. What if instead of healing the body according the specifications of said body, healing magic simply restored the body to what the caster knew to be a healed body?
A sharp prod from the orc holding her prompted Rachel to reach for the chieftain with her hand. It was clear they had no fear of her whatsoever, allowing a spellcaster to be in touching distance like that.
But if such goes the body then what of the mind? What does it mean to restore a mind to the image of the healer? What is a normal mind?
"Vista - Hueela - Folgaris, drink and be whole again, Greater Healing... Kill him."
The shocked expression on the orc warrior who had restrained Rachel didn't leave even as his head fell absent of its body.
"Give me the keys to unlock my companions cells, then keep watch outside and keep the other orcs away, kill them if you need to."
The chieftain nodded, handed her a ring of keys and walked out of the tent. He was healed and whole again. Healed and wholely dedicated to doing Rachel's bidding.
|
The Healer stood her ground, her linen clothes smothered in grime and blood, her comrades dead, the enemy closing in in a mass charge. She's alone, angry, and desperate to save herself.
In a bout of fury, she focused all of her strength into one final gambit. She will heal her enemies. Heal them beyond capacity. Heal them to hell
The first wave of individuals crossed the trench found their limbs beginning to swell and grow, contort and mutate. Men began choking as their throats swelled and grew, while others desperately tried to cut off rapidly growing tumors from their bodies with their bayonets
Other men raised their rifles against her, but she counters them instead with cancer of the eyes, bringing untold pain to the ranks that dared cross paths with her
For once, she felt useful
For once, she felt powerful
And then
[The sound of thunder.](https://youtu.be/lOHi5-5Hlzw)
Through the scope of a distant man, he watched as the healer's entire upper body erupt into a spectacle of bone and viscera. Her body, or what's left of it, dropped to the ground, leaning against the raised earth behind it, reduced to shredded meat hanging loose atop dangling legs
"Hunter Killer successful", said another man in drab tans, this time holding binoculars in place of a weapon
"We have neutralized the Healer"
"Good, continue the offensive. Bringing in mechanized support"
|
j4tik58
|
j4sjfdz
|
[WP] You are The Chosen One™. You have to follow your Destiny™ in order to defeat the Evil Emperor™ and Save the Princess™ and go down as the Hero of the Realm™, yada yada. This is your sixth reincarnation in this goddamn role and this time you're going to do something else, story be damned.
|
"Fuckkkkkk," I said as a woman ran across my path. She was dressed in fine garments and wore one of those stupid pointy fucking hats with ribbon coming off of it.
"Oh, daring hero, can you help me?" she asked as she flung herself at me. "I'm being chased by one of the Emperor's hunting parties. They'll be following quickly. Surely a hero of your stature can save me."
I peeled her hand off my shoulder, turned her around, and gave her a light push.
"Nope, keep running. I'm sure you'll find somebody."
"But hero, it must be you! They will be upon me before I find anyone else!"
"Not a hero," I said as I pushed past her. "You better get to running instead of talking. People might think you want to be found."
I wasn't playing this shit anymore. That was the third princess *this fucking week*. I didn't have time for this shit. Ever since that witch unlocked my memories from a past life, I've been so over this. I thought it would bring me great power and knowledge. All it did was make me sick of this shit.
Six times. Six! Who gets reincarnated as the same fucking guy six times? Sure, I was good at it. It had worked out in my previous five lives. But now that I had the memories of all of those lives, I wanted to be something different. Do something different. I was going to be a llama breeder.
But first, I needed to find a llama. Well, two llamas, actually. A male and a female. Then I had to find a place to raise my llamas. The problem was I had no skills. My entire life, I had been raised to be a chivalrous knight. I was trained in the way of martial combat, I was the best in the land with a sword, and I was able to talk my way into anywhere. But now, all of that was useless. Nobody cared if a llama breeder could use a sword. Only if he could breed llamas.
I had heard of the great llamas out east. They were gallant and fluffy, and some said they could even carry a fully-grown man on their back. I was on my way east to find two such llamas and procure them. I had thought about entering combat tournaments, but then I might fuck around and get roped into saving a princess or something. No, I had to make this work without using any of my knight training.
"Maybe I'll work at a bar," I said as I continued down the road.
"Sir, please!" the princess cried out. I let out a sigh. Fuck.
"Is there a reward for this?" I asked as I turned to her.
"Of course, sir, my father will pay you anything for my safe return."
"And just so we're clear, there is no fucking legend or prophecy about a great hero in your kingdom, right?"
"Well, legend tells tale of a brave knight who - "
"Nope, not interested." I turned back around and began down the road again.
"Fine, no prophecies! Just save me this one time. One time thing. We'll pay you, and you can be on your way to wherever you're going." I let out another sigh.
I drew my sword as a pack of three men on horseback came riding onto the road from the forest.
"Does your family have any llamas?" I asked as they approached rapidly. There better be fucking llamas for this shit.
​
\--------------------------------------------
Let me know any feedback or criticism, I'm still working on my writing overall. <3
|
I wake up in a new bed, noticing the grand archetecture of what was obviously a nobility's home.
I sigh as i climb out of bed, looking myself over, mumbling to myself "and thats number 6.." i grumble, barely noticing the door burst open "young master! You're awake! How are you feeling? You got hit by a carriage and didnt wake up!" A servant asked, a young woman about my age, pink hair this time, last one had cyan hair. "Im fine. Hey, i got memory loss, tell me about the place" i say, a somewhat tired look on my face, her assuming it was from my supposed coma. I had started to use memory loss as an excuse after the 3rd time reincarnating, i never appeared in the same world twice so far, so it worked.
After about a week, i had learned all i wanted to know about the current world i was in, the son of a major nobility, my current father being a military general in the fight against the Demon Lord.
5 times now ive had to collect a group of people and face the demon lord, me as the fighter, an inexperienced but overpowered mage, a cleric or priestess with self esteem issues, and a rogue or thief whos kind of a dick till after we beat some major monster. Of course, all of us 18 or younger.
Ancouple times now i just avoided my quest until it was absolutely required.
A month had passed and i was still putting off the quest, when i was visited by, at this point, an old pal
"Greetings chosen hero, i have been sent by the.. oh, its you again, whatsup" the holy being said, dropping the pretense "not much, avoiding the holy duty. Can you ask your boss to stop? This is the 6th time now ive had to do his dirty work, and im getting tired of it, can i just reincarnate as like.. i dunno, a shopkeeper? Ive killed 5 seperate demon lords, your boss needs to get off his lazy ass and do it himself for once."
"Honestly, i agree, but i dont make the rules, he wants you to do it again, ill try and talk to him about your request, but no promises"
"Whether he wants me to do it or not, i aint. Im going to move out of the kingdom, start a small shop, change my name, shit like that. Get as far away from this life as possible"
(Creative juices kinda ran out, also busy at work, so thats all i got)
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m7nba57
|
j62lq53
|
[WP] Write an angry ending monologue of someone in a small town who tried to warn the people something bad was going to happen, no one listened, and now people are dead.
|
The six jaws of the dragon-god Terravore opened wide, its rows of shark-like teeth each taller than a man standing. Its thirteen horns blot out the sun, and cast complex shadows across the wasteland that was once green city park. Dozens of red eyes roll in their sockets, then focus on you.
I SENSE YOU MAGICAL POWER LITTLE WORM
The voice originates from Terravore, and from the air itself, and from you. Its coming from all around you, it's coming from inside your own mind. A horrible and forbidden tongue, befitting a god of destruction.
BUT YOUR TRIFLING MAGIC WON’T SAVE YOU FROM BEING CONSUMED! I, TERRAVORE WILL EAT YOU, YOUR VERY ESSENCE AND SOUL, AND THEN THE WOR-
Most awkward soul consumption ever, your phone just started ringing. This is in fact, especially weird, because you never turn on the volume. You and Terravore stare awkwardly at each other while the ringing continues.
WHAT IS THAT?
“Uh, it's my phone, sorry.”
WHAT IS A ‘PHONE’?
“It, uh, let’s me communicate with other people… and browse the internet… and stuff”
GOOD, USE YOUR CRYSTAL BALL PHONE TO HERALD TO THE WORLD, IT IS ABOUT TO BE CONSUMED BY THE MIGHTY TERRAVORE!
A dozen scarlet eyes the size of SUVs stare at you expectantly. You answer your phone.
“Uh, hello?”
“Dude where are you? Professor Weatherwax just dropped a pop-quiz on thaumic runes, its like 10% of our grades. I already sent you like, eight messages about it.”
“I’m uh, kind of in the middle of something.”
“Oh shit, sorry for using the Volume On cantrip then, but seriously, you’re already on Weatherwax’s shit list, you gotta get over here!”
TELL THEM ABOUT ME CONSUMING THE WORLD
“Oh uh, there’s this dragon god here, and it’s going to consume the world”
TELL THEM ABOUT MY SIX MOUTHS, AND THIRTEEN HORNS, AND HOW I’M REALLY BIG
“It’s got like six mouths, and uh, thirteen horns, and its like really big.”
“Oh wait, you mean Terravore?”
“You know this guy?”
“Yeah one second, I’ll be right there.”
The call ends. You stand awkwardly before the might of Terravore.
WHAT DID THEY SAY?
“Um, they’re on their way?”
GOOD, ALL SHOULD WITNESS THE POWER OF MY DRACONIC FORM, ALL SHOULD-
1/2
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I told them. I told them that winter would bring the Dead, but did they listen? No. They relied too much on magic and conmen to listen to a farmer whose family lived through this shit before.
When my grandda was seven, I told them, the Dead walked. The blizzard of 358 decimated the land, killed a lot of livestock, and killed everyone who was caught out of the bonfire circle. And then, those what died came back to slaughter their old friends, whose bodies rose and killed yet more people!
'Loony old man,' they called me. 'Lost his mind years ago and doesn't know what he's talking about.'
When the Dead walked again, last night on the Winter Solstice, I was home safe in my circle of fire, with my daughter and her baby. We kept the fires burning all night, and when dawn came, we watched the Dead die again.
You should have listened to me. A few did, and they emerged from the flames with us, seeing the world changed this night. But the rest of you?
An entire town, rotting and bloating in the cool winter sun. We can't bury all of you, and to be frank, I don't want to bury any of you.
We still have the fires burning, just in case. If the Dead stay down again tonight, we'll burn your bodies tomorrow.
It's the funeral you fools deserve.
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joufaxq
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jou72fa
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[WP] One can easily distinguish a true veteran adventurer from the masses, for one doesn’t fear those who show to the start of a dungeon with gleaming weapons and polished armor, but those who show up wearing casual clothing, looking like they just got done shopping in town not 5 minutes earlier.
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I opened my shop in the town of Ambrisule to equip new adventurers entering the Cave of Sorrows. That wasn't the caves real name, but it was a nickname that stuck due to the amount of young men and women who lost their lives there seeking loot and glory...mostly loot. I named my shop "The Inn" as an inside joke for adventurers. All journeys seem to start in an inn, so I help them keep the tradition alive. Every day I come and I sell, and every day new adventurers come to the cave to seek riches and glory.
A young half-elf male started towards my shop. He wore a matching set of mithril plate and legs. His shield glowed faintly and displayed a crest inlayed with gold. The sword in its hilt was long, sharp, and definitely enchanted. I used my appraisal skill before he was close enough to notice and saw that the sword would cause any creature to bleed once cut, the wound never to cauterize without help of magic. All of this instantly told me two things about the young half-elf. He came from immense wealth, and he had never experienced true battle. "Hello shop-keep, my name is Wimbleton, I'd like to look through your finest wares before taking on the dungeon. I may even buy a thing or two if you offer anything of actual value. I doubt you have anything better than the blade on my side, but I was told stopping in the shop to check was something of a good luck ritual in this town."
​
"Oh, I just might have a thing or two." I replied. "Are you a close up brawler, a magic user, or more of a sit back and pick them off from afar type of adventurer?"
​
"A blade. Long and sharp. I detest anyone who uses trickery to take on their opponents. I look them in the eye and give them a warriors death."
​
"Ah. Yes, I see you have a nice blade already. I may have something of interest to you in the back." I waked into the back and grabbed a blade. I waited for a few seconds to make it seem like I needed to look for it, but I knew every item and every square inch of my inventory by heart. I learned long ago the extra few seconds of waiting made adventurers feel as though you were going for the 'special section'.
​
Once enough time passed, I walked back with a smile. "This sword was enchanted long ago. I've run through my appraisal and identify skills many nights and still have only been able to ascertain its base features. This blade will cause three effects, maybe more, to your enemy. The first, it will cause your enemy to become slowed. Second, your enemy will become enraged and not be able to run from battle with you. Third, it will cause your enemy to become silent. There are..."
​
"Wait, what good is it to cause my enemies to be silent? The lack of banter, the lack of the battle cry they emit when in dire straights?!?" He interrupted.
​
"The silent feature will allow you to be stealthy when needed, keep your enemies for calling from help, and stop most spells from being cast by your enemies." I replied, "And as I was saying, there are at least three other features of this blade I have been unable to see myself, but a merchant friend who is more skilled than I says it will even cause your enemies to bleed continuously unless magically healed."
​
"Ah. So this blade is decent." Wimbelton said, trying to hide a level of excitement. "How much?"
​
"Oh, this blade is quite the catch. I'd say 2,000 gold and we can call it even."
​
Wimbelton baulked. "I will give you 1,200 and no more!"
​
"I'll tell you what. I see a lot of promise in you. I'll sell this blade to you for 1,200 if you promise to sell me the loot you find in the dungeon that you don't wish to keep. This will be a win for both of us as I will be able to sell those items to other adventurers, and you will be able to profit as well." I held out the sword, "Do we have a deal?"
​
Wimbleton pulled out a sack of gold and quickly layed out 1,200 pieces. He grabbed the sword from my hands without a word and walked out of the store. He placed the sword in its sheath next to his original blade, said an incantation that caused his armor to glow, then walked into the Cave of Sorrows.
​
I waited for other adventurers, but none came. As night fell Wimbelton had not returned. I knew the dungeon had beaten him like all the others. I set my sign to closed, grabbed my simple dagger, and walked into the mouth of the cave.
​
I was surprised to find that I needed to go to the second floor of the cave before I found him. He had made it quite far. I quickly looted Wimpleton before beginning my trek back to the shop. On my way back I resurrected Skeletons, Zombies, and other hoardlings to ensure my cave was a challenge for the next adventurer. I went to the back of my shop and placed the new inventory.
​
Before going to bed I went to the log book I had at the front desk, and turned to the 300th page. It was almost to the end, so I would need to replace it soon. I found the next blank section and added the new name to my list of fallen adventurers. Wimpleton was it?
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Jessie sat on the rafters, gazing out at the massive crowd that had gathered in town for the annual Adventurers' Fair. It was a long journey from the city to her father's little town, all just to visit her father, Alfred, and her good friend James. Alas, dad was busy coordinating the event, so he had asked his god to accompany her.
An abyssal portal opened by her side, dropping a big pile of snacks and bottles of drinks that floated near her instead of rolling down the roof, before a familiar face climbed out of it with a cake box in hand.
"See those adventurers with gleaming weapons and polished armors? They're the ones who bought their gear swiping daddy's credit card. Such shiny equipment have never seen combat. They're as fresh as loaves of hot cross buns straight out of the oven. I could eat them for breakfast without batting an eyelid if humans were still on my menu. Oh, are we people-watching today? Any adventurers caught your eye?" Elvari prattled on, tearing the box open to help himself to a slice of cake, not even waiting until the rest of him emerged from the portal.
Jessie helped herself to a bag of chips and replied," I'm looking out for a friend of mine, James. Was hoping to wish him good luck. Even bought a good luck charm for him."
"What kind of adventurer is he? One of those newly minted shiny amateurs? Those are all bark and no bite, all shine and no skill. You can't trust these people to toil through the tough struggles in life by your side. Very likely to run at the first sign of trouble and ditch you. As for experienced fighters with some dents and cracks in battered armor? Those are worth befriending and getting to know them better if you desire excellent dungeon loot. You know they've survived difficult battles that challenged the durability of their gear. Trust these people to go the distance with you on the adventure of life." He was thrilled to share a long life of countless encounters with adventurers from all walks of life, waving a tentacle that clasped a pointer to aim its laser at the relevant examples. "What does James look like? If you're too shy and nervous, I can deliver it to him on your behalf."
"James said he would be showing up in a simple shirt and jeans," Jessie stated, her eyes still scanning the sea of adventurers. "He has black curly hair, a dark tan and brown eyes. Let me know if you see him anywhere among the massive crowd, he hasn't been answering my calls or messages."
"Oh, the type to show up in casual clothing, like they're just done shopping in town despite completing a dungeon run. Now, that is the kind of man to fear and run away from. A true veteran. The only sort more frightening than that is the old veteran who walks up to you naked with a crude, lowly weapon that has witnessed over a hundred battles. No gear dungeon speedrunners are the worst prospects. There's no fun or flair to what they do, they just zip past things so fast you don't get to undergo the joys of adventures. Pure efficiency sucks the pleasure out of dungeoneering and life in general. Just terrible for companionship."
She sighed as exasperation began to creep in. "Elvari! I'm not a monster in a dungeon waiting to fight these adventurers! There's no reason for me to fear James or any other veteran adventurers..."
"I was giving dating advice," came the flat retort.
Jessie sighed and took a sip of a bottle of coke. If she wanted dating advice, a madness-inducing eldritch god was one of the last persons she would ever consider asking. "James is just a friend okay? Please have a bit of common sense."
Elvari shot her a knowing glance with a cheeky wink and smirked. "Just a friend? That's what a secretly dating couple would say. Have you embarked on any adventures with him? Does your father know? Jessie, you cannot conceal thoughts from an ancient telepath like me for very long. As for common sense, well I'm not a common creature on this earth, why would I have common sense?"
---
[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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jur1z9c
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juqlgou
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[WP] You're the adoptive father of an Angel and Demon. You found out that your Demon child was kidnapped by a religious group. You arrive at their church only to find your Angel child consoling her Demon brother as dead cultists are littlered around the church and the leader terrified in a corner.
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"It's for the best," the woman says serenely as she nods.
My ears are ringing. They took my son. Right out of our home. They broke in and took him. His homework is still scattered around the kitchen table.
They. Took. My. Son.
The woman gasps as I shove her against a counter. A quick move and I have a knife from the butcher's block against her throat, a thin line of red already beading at the edge. "Where." It's not a question.
It's a demand.
She glares at me with the idiocy of a religious fanatic. "He doesn't belong here."
I stab her. In the shoulder, of course. I can't compromise her ability to speak. Blood gushes, but doesn't spurt when I remove the knife. Good; I didn't hit an artery. "Where. Is. My. Son."
"You don't even know what he is!"
I put my face as close to hers as I can. "I know," I tell her grimly. "I know *exactly* what my children are. *Where is he?*"
"I should have known you were just as tainted," snarls the woman.
Well. I barely have a grip on my more...dark tendencies on a *good* day. Time to let a little wrath loose. No. If I open that, if I let that happen I will never shut it again. I can't do that.
My children don't deserve to see me like that.
But--we're in the kitchen. And that stab wound could easily get infected. And there's a bottle of Purell right by the sink. I smile and something about my expression makes the woman flinch. I can't *imagine* why. "That wound looks pretty tricky," I say with a grin. I reach over and grab the bottle. "Let me *help*," I add viciously as I dump the alcohol gel in her stab wound.
Three disinfected stab wounds later and she gasps out an address. I leave her pathetic, shivering body on the floor. I have to get to the church. I have to save my son.
The parking lot is packed. I don't bother trying to park. There isn't time. I rush up the stairs and throw open the door. The chapel is littered with broken bodies. Up by the pulpit, Irvin is on his knees, sobbing. Nyssa, his adopted sister, is holding him gently. Both of them still look human, for the moment.
I look around at the devastation as I walk towards my children. Bits of bodies are flung over the pews, blood is painting the windows, and not a single bible has been touched. In fact, the bibles and hymnals are the only things in the whole place aside from the children that are untouched by blood.
Nyssa, the literal angel that she is, is rubbing Irvin's back and crooning softly in his ear, a song I vaguely recognize. I've heard her sing it before, when I first brought Irvin home. I don't know what the words mean, but I know she's trying to soothe Irvin.
The poor boy is trembling like a leaf. Poor kid; he had thought we were safe here. *I* had thought we were safe here.
Nyssa looks up at me as I approach and there's still anger in her eyes. Fortunately, I'm her mother. "They *hurt* him," she said.
I nod. "And so you hurt them back." I should probably say something about how it was wrong to hurt other people. About how it's important to give them a chance to repent.
Then again, I just stabbed a woman four times and tortured her by pouring disinfectant into her wounds. I have no room to talk. I reach the two of them and put a hand on her shoulder. "Good job," I tell her warmly.
"The *priest* is still alive," Nyssa says grimly. I look behind the pulpit and see the man, shaking in fear as urine stains the carpet in front of him. As a divine messenger of God, Nyssa can't kill him.
I am no such thing. "I see. You get your brother in the car. *I'll* deal with the priest." She nods and scoops her brother up. He's still shaking and crying, but I ruffle his hair as they go by. They'll be fine.
I'm going to make sure of it.
I reach down and grab the priest by the shirt. No clerical collar, so a preacher, not a priest. Not that Nyssa can tell the difference. "You," I say grimly, "attacked a *child*. You broke into our *home*, attacked a *child*, and planned to *hurt* him." I haul him off the floor. Wind howls around the church and I listen to the words no one else in this realm can understand. Suddenly I grin and press my thumb against his his neck. He screams as the skin sizzles around my thumb. "You're marked now, Preacher," I tell him. "The Hounds are coming for you." I pull him closer and whisper, "And they *always* get their prey." I drop him. Thunder crashes as the baying begins.
The Hunt can't enter the church, but he can't stay there forever. They'll get him. I head out to my car as the wind picks up. It batters the building like a ram, but parts for me, so I have no trouble getting into the car. Nyssa and Irvin are in the back seat and there's a faint scent of sulfur and saffron. A glance back shows that Nyssa's wings are peaking out and Irvin's horns are starting to emerge.
"We have to move again," Irvin says. He looks up with wide eyes. The whites are almost as red as the irises. "Don't we?"
I sigh. "Yeah, we do."
"It's not our fault," Nyssa says firmly as she wraps a wing around her brother.
"You are absolutely right," I say just as firmly. Nyssa already knows this, but Irvin can stand the reminder. "It is not either of your faults." I start the car.
"Where are we going to go?" Irvin sounds so lost, and my heart breaks a little for him.
"Well," I say thoughtfully as I pull onto the road. We're the only people on the road; everyone else is hiding from the storm. "We could always go Underhill, and visit your Aunt Morrigan."
Nyssa frowns. "I thought you don't like visiting your sister," she says hesitantly.
I don't, but only because she refuses to stop calling me "Badb." "It will be fine," I tell them. I turn onto a road that only I can see and the trees part for us. "She always enjoys seeing you."
(ETA: Thank you for the gold!)
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The church is too quiet when Father Lucas arrives. He hopes he's not too late. When he took in Derek, it was with the full knowledge of what he was and what he could be. He bore the purple skin and black, curled horns of his devilish father.
But Derek's similarities to his father ended there. He is the sweetest child Lucas has ever had the pleasure to care for. He's a skilled smith, and he wouldn't hurt a fly if he could help it. It would be a tragedy for Father Lucas to have come too late to save him. But the silence speaks for itself. Whatever ritual the cult needed Derek for is finished.
Lucas doesn't want to enter the wretched place, but he needs to find Derek's remains. He needs to give this wonderful child a proper burial. Nobody else will put his body into consecrated ground. With a deep breath, Lucas steels himself and goes through the crooked doors.
The doors creek on rusted hinges, the sound echoing in the empty hall beyond. The smell of ozone hits Lucas the moment he steps inside. He coughs. The ritual must have been strong, for there to still be remnants of the divine magic in the air.
The pews are dusty and rotten away in places. The altar on the other side of the church is cracked down the middle. There is no body laying on top of it. Did they take the remains? What are they going to do with those? Nothing good, that's for sure. Indignant rage fuels Lucas' steps as he hurries to the altar. He needs to be certain.
He doesn't notice the corpses littering the ground until he almost trips on one. The sight of the charred man in front of his feet stops Lucas in his tracks. He whispers a short prayer to his god Leylander. Not that the God of creation can do much about death. The damage is extensive. Lucas can't even make out if it was an elf or a human.
There are more corpses surrounding the altar, just as burnt as the one in front of Lucas. The ones hidden between the rubble of the pews are slightly better off. He can still recognize the green of their robes. These are Followers of Garahad, the One Who is Many. They don't sacrifice kids to magic. They sacrifice beings that look different, just to cleanse the mortal realm of differences. But why is there magic in the air if they’re the ones who took Derek?
Father Lucas doesn't dare think of the obvious answer. Derek wouldn't hurt a fly. He wouldn't snap and burn over 15 people, not even in self defence. He would rather die.
A soft, gasping breath snaps up Gather Lucas' attention. Someone is here, hidden behind the altar.
Derek!
Without another thought, Lucas runs towards the altar. The gasp was indeed Derek. He looks rough. His left eye is swollen, his face is covered in blood, and one of his horns has been shattered. He's clutching at the chain mail shirt of a glaring Arianna, whose arms protectively tighten around his shoulders.
"Hello, Father. You are late." Arianna's glare makes her eyes burn with a righteous light. Or is it the divine blessing she was born with that lights her eyes?
Lucas swallows and nods. "I am. Did Derek -" he motions towards the dead bodies, not even willing to say the words. The white flames in Arianna's eyes lick her cheeks.
"I told him to close his eyes. I hope he was too out of it to see me." Derek gently pats her chainmail, the metal ringing out a tinkling song in the tense atmosphere.
"I- I listened. I'm fine. I - I did not see anything." Derek has always been a horrible liar.
Lucas sighs and kneels next to the duo. Arianna pulls Derek closer to her, protecting him from Lucas. Derek gasps out another breath. "You're not taking him from me!"
Lucas raises his hands in a calming gesture. "Of course not, Ari, my child. But you are hurting him. And I have been chosen by Leylander like you have, although my gift lies in a different area. I can repair, the way you destroy."
Arianna looks surprised, and unsure about letting him closer until Derek taps her chest again. He's seen Lucas' gift before. He's needed it more than once, much to Lucas' dislike.
Arianna releases her tight hold of Derek, and Father Lucas lays his hands on his heart and the crown of his head. He prays to Leylander until his warmth takes hold of his hands.
Derek's breathing eases. Arianna doesn't relax.
"What now? I'm not leaving him. And I'm not letting him leave." Lucas smiles at her.
"Of course not. We are leaving together. I always wanted to do a pilgrimage to the Holy city of Meysan, and now seems like the perfect time!" Lucas throws a disarming smile Arianna's way, and she hesitantly smiles back.
"You're not mad?" And suddenly she looks every inch the 12 year old she is. Lucas pats her head.
"Of course not. You were protecting your brother." And now Father Lucas has two abominations to hide and care for. Leylander sure gave him the toughest task he could.
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kyg8qyd
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kyf7ml3
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[WP] your girlfriend turned into a "hideous monster". while of course you supported her and promised to help her on her quest to turn back, on the inside you're struggling to find a way to confess that you're really into her new form.
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Maybe it was the scales along her flanks. Maybe it was the digitigrade legs, or the clawed toes and fingers. Or it could have been the glowing eyes, snake tongue, her teeth falling out to be replaced with needle-like fangs, or the glow, heat, and slight smell of sulfure from the back of her mouth. Or the tail.
The news was shocked, the nation and world horrified. She'd been locked up "for her safety," until it became clear that it wasn't communicable and she wasn't a rampaging monster. Just a monster, who happened to be my girlfriend. And, after she'd gotten used to her newfound strength, she'd done the round of talk shows. They universally called her the "Video game lizard freak girl" or something similar.
Me?
I was so turned on by Marie's new look. It was hot, and not just because her body temperature had risen about ten degrees.
"Goodbye, Gucci pumps," she said sadly, boxing the twentieth pair of shoes gingerly. Her new foot structure wouldn't let her wear shoes anymore.
"Why don't you sell them?" I ask. Marie's tail, which had curled around the back of my waist as we sat on the couch, twitched.
"It's an option, I guess."
"Worth a penny on ebay." I was finding it hard not to watch Marie's backside as she leaned forward, boxing her shoe collection. Her new physiognomy restricted the clothes she could wear; and she'd taken to just not wearing any around the apartment.
I was busy cutting and hemming slits in the back of her crop tops. Backs—at least closed backs—were out. Backless was in. I left the collars and carefully cut the back panels to the sleeve stitch. My next project was to remove a hole in all of her pants, jeans, and shorts for her tail to slip in.
"Bobby?" Marie said, stopping and looking up toward the TV. "Thank you for sticking around during all this."
"Never changed *who* you are, Em," I replied, smiling. Taloned fingers fell over my hand. Marie had half turned toward me, her orange eyes studying my face. After months of living with those fiery orbs, I could see the slight edges of her irises and pupils in the mostly-textureless color.
"No, really."
I put the shirt in my lap and smiled.
"Marie, I told you, no matter what happens, no matter how many times we might argue, I love *you;* that hasn't changed with this sudden transformation."
Marie smiled softly, then wrapped a hand around the back of my head and pulled me to her for a deep kiss.
|
“Aerin, look out!” There was a flash of light and a screech as a… *thing* with too many legs fell from the ceiling down in front of them. Wings flared out protectively to shield her from the beast as she fought with teeth, claws, and fire.
Finally, the beast shrieked and lay still. Rhea’s eyes glowed like molten steel as she stepped back from the creature that had ambushed them, blood staining her claws. The sudden attack had prompted her to shift into her half-form— scaly, ash-gray skin showing out from the gaps in her light armor. Rhea turned to her, panic in her voice.
“Aerin, I—“ her lover’s voice broke and she trailed off. “I can’t shift back.” Rhea whispered, gravelly voice sending a shiver down her spine.
“What do you mean?” She stuffed down the part of her that found this hot and went over to console her girlfriend.
“I mean, I can’t shift back! Something is wrong! I’m stuck like this.” Rhea shook her head, the light from the cave entrance glinting off her curved horns. She covered her face with her hands, turning away.
“I’m a monster.”
“You are not a monster, Rhea. You know I’ll love you no matter what you look like.”
If anything, her “monstrous” form was even more attractive than her humanoid one. She was looking forward to seeing what those claws could do. But that would come later. For now, she held her lover close as she cried, stroking a hand down her velvet-soft wings, tucked in tight against her back in fear. At least her beloved high dragon could still fly.
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m6w229y
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m6vs7wp
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[WP] a king has received the standard prophecy that his youngest daughter will be the one to kill him but instead of reacting as "get this baby out of my sight an abandoned it somewhere in the woods for it to die" he accepts his fate and dinner time is made very awkward
|
The king sat at the head of the long, gleaming table, his fingers tapping nervously on the polished wood. “Pass the potatoes,” he said, his voice as casual as a boulder rolling downhill.
The youngest princess, barely eight, her hair a nest of golden tangles, paused mid-slice of her roast. She squinted at the king like he’d just insulted her doll collection. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“Me? Staring? I’m not staring,” the king said, though his eyes darted back to her every few seconds like moths to a flame. “It’s just… lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it? Very stabby—I mean, sunny.”
The eldest princess, who was doing her best to blend into the wallpaper, snorted into her goblet. “You’re obsessed, Father. Maybe she’ll kill you with bad table manners instead of a dagger.”
“Not helpful, Abigail,” the queen murmured, her eyes flicking between her husband and youngest daughter like she was watching an overly tense game of chess.
The prophecy had been delivered eight years ago by a wandering soothsayer who insisted on being paid in muffins. “The youngest,” she had croaked, crumbs spilling from her mouth, “will take the throne from the king.” Naturally, everyone assumed this meant murder. Except the king. The king decided it was destiny, leaned into it like a man hugging a cactus, and started treating every family dinner like it might be his last.
“Darling,” the queen said now, her voice low and sharp as the carving knife. “Could you stop twitching? You’re making everyone nervous.”
“I’m not twitching,” the king replied, his left eye twitching.
The youngest princess sighed dramatically, the kind of sigh that suggested she was already tired of this nonsense despite only being eight. “If I’m going to kill you, do you think I’d do it at dinner?”
The room fell silent, the kind of silence that suggested everyone was suddenly contemplating whether she *would*. Even the royal dog stopped chewing on a table leg to listen.
“Well, no,” the king said at last, clutching his goblet like it might offer him moral support. “But it could be poison! Or—who knows! A strategically placed pea I choke on!”
The youngest rolled her eyes with the weight of ten generations of daughters tired of their fathers’ dramatics. “If I *do* kill you, it’ll be cool. I’ll use a sword or something. Something flashy. Not food.”
“Oh, how comforting,” the king said, his voice dripping sarcasm. “A flashy murder. Wonderful.”
Abigail raised her goblet. “To flashy murders!”
“ABIGAIL!” the queen snapped, her hand slamming on the table.
The youngest giggled, which somehow made the whole situation worse. “You’re so silly, Papa. If I wanted to be queen, I’d just wait. You’re old.”
The king choked on his wine.
“Can we *please* have one dinner without talking about regicide?” the queen begged, pressing her hands to her temples.
The youngest shrugged. “He started it.”
“I did not—”
“Yes, you did,” Abigail said, grinning as she speared another potato. “You always do. Every meal. Every snack. You probably dream about it.”
The king crossed his arms, sulking like a scolded child. “Well, excuse me for being concerned about my *life.*”
“Maybe try enjoying it instead,” the queen muttered, reaching for the wine bottle.
The youngest leaned across the table, her expression suddenly serious. “I don’t want to kill you, you know.”
The king blinked at her, his jaw slack.
“I don’t,” she insisted, her voice soft but steady. “But if I have to, I’ll make it cool. Like I said.”
The queen sighed deeply as the king fainted, his face landing squarely in the mashed potatoes. Dinner carried on as usual.
|
Godric sat down in his usual spot. His favorite time of the day was fast approaching. The smell of various meats wafted through the air, gently resting upon his nostrils. Theodore (Godric's most trusted prophet) had requisitioned a very special meal for tonight. He hadn't exactly been clear about what the occasion was, but Godric knew that when Theodore had a prophecy, it was normally good news. For it was Theodore that had once found Godric as a humble stable boy and told him that he would one day rule the kingdom.
Godric thought for a moment about his humble beginnings. He was never all that remarkable as a child. His father was a simple lute player who moved from town to town, making a very modest income. Godric had only faint memories of his father. He mostly remembered the day that he packed up his things and set off for a bigger city than the village Godric and his mother dwelt in. Godric had to begin work at a very young age. He had attempted many jobs before, but nothing ever really stuck. Godric knew that being a 10-year-old without employment was a very bad thing for both him and his mother. Partially because they would starve, but mainly because it looked bad.
He had finally found a solid gig working as a stable boy in the Feltshire Stables. It was his first day on the job when he had met Theodore. Godric was never really sure why Theodore had found him. He chalked it up to fate. Theodore told Godric that he was going to rule the entire kingdom.
Godric could scarcely believe that this would be true, but Theodore assured him that it would. He helped Theodore get onto his horse and opened the stable door for him. He remembered waving to Theodore and then running to tell his mother what had just happened.
He did, however, forget to close the stable door, and all of the horses escaped Feltshire Stables. This left Mr. Feltshire entirely destitute. Godric didn't worry too much about it, though; he had much bigger things to worry about now. He was going to be the King of Athmere.
Theodore approached the royal dining hall. There he saw Godric in his typical royal chair with his typically gormless look on his face. The only thing on the king's mind seemed to be when his dinner would arrive. Theodore had some... news for the king. He wasn't sure how Godric would react. Although, from his experience, very little could dampen Godric's mood when it came to dinner time. This was the primary reason Theodore had chosen this particular occasion to deliver the news. He glanced up and down at the "grand ruler of Athmere," and what he saw was merely a schmuck who was entirely out of his depth when it came to ruling a kingdom.
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jh0ohpw
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jh0itzk
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[WP] “Maybe the real treasure was the friends we made alo-“ “Dude, we desecrated a major archaeological site and half of our team died for the promise of treasure that wasn’t even here!”
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“Maybe the real treasure was the friends we made alo-“
“Dude, we desecrated a major archaeological site and half of our team died for the promise of treasure that wasn’t even here!”
I looked at my compatriot curiously; he was covered in dirt, drops of sweat clearing paths through the muck, almost creating a pattern on his forehead. There was something about his eyes; something that wasn't there before. Or rather... it was like the light in them went out, like there was nothing behind them.
"But think of all the friends we made!" I said with a warm smile.
"Like who?!" he cried out.
"How about Samir, our guide? He's just a swell guy, wouldn't you-"
"Samir died three hours ago!" he yelled and pointed towards the corner of the room. I followed his finger and saw a man slumped against the wall, the pool of blood around him betraying his grim faith.
"Oh," I commented. "Was it the dem-"
"It was the demon bats, yeah! The fuck else would it be?!"
"Could've been the chupacabra, honestly," I shrugged.
"I- I mean, yeah, but that's completely beside the point."
"I'm still not sure how a monster from Mexican folklore ended up here in Egypt," I said and rubbed my chin.
"That's what you're wondering about?!"
"You're right. If it was the chupacabra, there wouldn't be blood; it would've drank all of it."
"Jesus fucking Christ dude," he said and rubbed his face.
"I'm sorry. I guess I just got carried away with the adventure, you know? It was just so exciting to chase all those fantastical clues," I chuckled.
"Is that going to be your defence when you-"
"Oh don't worry, Egypt doesn't extradite to *that* country," I reassured my friend. "But, yeah. We definitely can't visit there anymore."
"So you're saying you'll deny Robert a proper burial in his homeland?" he gasped.
"Hmm... do you think UPS will ship his-"
"The fuck is wrong with you?" he said with wide eyes.
"You're right, I'm sorry. The fees would be unreal. A complete scam if you ask me."
He sat down with a heavy sigh and let held his head in his hands.
"So much... death, so much... strife..." he whispered to himself. "And what for?"
"1,5 billion dollars," I replied casually.
"W- what?"
"1,522,322,411 dollars, 35 cents and half a doughnut, to be specific," I nodded along.
"B- but the treasure, it was... it was just an elaborate lie! A quest made to kill those foolhardy enough to attempt such madness! A pyramid of insanity we delved into despite the warning signs! A deluge of-"
"Yes, yes," I interrupted. "But I have been selling the corpses of all the creatures we've killed. Did you know that a corpse of a previously assumed-mythical creature sells for *a lot* on the black market? Like, *a lot*."
I saw his hand slide towards his waist, towards the sheath of his knife.
"Oh, relax," I chuckled. "Your share is already in your account."
His hand went past the knife and towards his pocket. He pulled out his phone and inspected it briefly; soon after, a smile crept onto his face.
"How about that," he said. "But... you do realize we're still, like, *awful* people, right?"
"Oh, without a doubt," I laughed. "But we did some good along the way too."
"I... suppose we *did* liberate a country, if only to get access to the palace."
"See? All works out in the end," I said and patted him on the back.
"By the way..." he opened, "who paid you *half a doughnut*?"
"The hobgoblin from 2 weeks ago. Wanted my phone."
"And you gave it to him for half a doughnut?"
I looked at him, appalled.
"The poor little creature had no talent for haggling! Anything else would've been a scam and scams, my friend," I said and put my hand on his shoulder with a knowing look, "are *wrong*."
"Oh, THAT'S where you draw the line?!"
|
It all started when John found the map. I pushed him and my friends to try and find the treasure described because I tought I could make a fortune.
The first one to die was Marcus. We were trying to enter the archaeological site indicated on the map, and while we were figuring out how to get inside of the temple without alerting anyone, Jessica pushed a button hidden in one of the walls and opened the main door. We were Happy at First, but then he got in and fell in a hole. Yeah, it was a dumb way to pass away, but we tought he could still be saved (even tough we couldn't see the end of it), so se got inside careful of not falling in the hole. It was a stupid choice, and I bet his dead body we found later would have told us so.
Then it was Lola. When we got inside the door closed behind us and we, instead of trying to find a way out, got deeper into the temple. Even tough we were being careful, when she got around a corner she got shot in the neck by an arrow. After this we tried to find a way out, but this time they made me stay in lead. Only thing is I have almost no sense of orientation, and we got Lost surprisingly fast.
The third to go was Jessica. She tought she was safe being the last one in line, but when we narrowly escaped the room with walls closing in on us, she didn't make it out for a second.
The fourth One was Mitch, Jessica's boyfriend, and since he didn't like the fact that his girlfriend died very much, he said it was my fault (wich, I admit, was a little true), grabbed me and put me against the wall by holding his arm on my throat, preventing me from talking or breathing at all. And while John was almost having a panic attack in the corner of the new room, I couldn't warn Mitch of the spiked piece of wood that hit him in the side. He got sent flying on the wall and we tried to help him, but he died not much later.
Then, there was left only me and John, and we found out the treasure room was just behind the corner of the room we were in. When we got in, we saw a chest and kicked It until It opened, only to see it was empty, with an old paper note that said "We already took it". Safe to Say John was furious. I tried to calm him down with irony by saying:"Maybe the real treasure was the friends we made along th-" but he cut me short:"Dude, we desecrated this archaeological site and most of our friends died for a treasure that was already stolen! What fucking excuse do you have to have dragged us to our death?!". I responded calmly:"Because it was my plan to kill all of you" then raises the knife I brought for "personal protection" and killed him while he was turned. Honestly, it was way too easy to make them believe there was a real, not discovered yet treasure.
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kdfdd8p
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kdenfvx
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[WP] Humanity was the first species to achieve space travel in our galaxy. In our loneliness we uplifted several other species. Please write a short from the perspective of one of those uplifted people interacting either with humans, or with the ruins humanity left behind.
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Humanity was alone.
This is what they told our ancestors, many era ago. They wept and sobbed as they spoke, a painful longing behind every word. Their development had come fast - with mere centuries of their years bridging the gap from first steps on another world to interstellar travel. But where the humans expected either welcome or war, they found silence. They found planets devoid of life, or where life was aeons away from sentience.
So they searched, and searched. They called out into the black nothing, and heard not even their own echo. And in that search, they spread. Research outposts dotted the galaxy, colonies settled and inhabited and thrived and dwindled and abandoned, as hope turned to desperation turned to resignation.
The scientists who studied our world named us Socratea, after a walking tree on their homeworld. We accepted, for we had no name for ourselves. They spoke with each other of the worlds they had seen, of relics of Earth, of what made them human. They did not know we were listening, that we were learning. The slowly roaming plants must have seemed to them unaware, unintelligent. We did not blame them - my ancestors had only just begun to think.
After they had left, the Socrateans continued to grow. Our memories pass through our roots and into the soil, into each new generation. I can recall the way one human sang, the mournful music swaying the branches of my ancestor, even though she must have departed our world millenia ago.
We learned their tongue, their writing. We studied what had been left over in their research station, and our technology flourished. Lessons learned centuries ahead of their time, because of the humans. Because of you. Our language flourished from your tongue, our culture built upon your fertile soil. It is only from your yearning that we ever thought to look up to the stars.
As the Socrateans ventured into the cosmos, in ships carrying the soil of our homeworld, we did not find the silence and emptiness that you did. In its place, we found community. We found all manner of species, from all manner of worlds and in all manner of forms, each pushing out to seek what you had sought all those ages ago. We found a community of cultures and languages that all had roots intermingled with ours, for they too were uplifted by the relics of your exploration.
It is out of respect that we have decided to base our galactic council on Earth, that we might settle our roots where you first learned to walk. These words will be engraved into the bones of your world, a message to you from the those that you uplifted by being you. It will lay carved into the stone alongside countless more words of gratitude from countless others.
We do not know if any humans are alive, for none have been seen in centuries.
If you are, or if you are not - Thank you. We are sorry it took us so long. We wish that you could have known us as we know you. The galaxy will never forget humanity. We love you.
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Our history indicated we were sent into space before humans did. We ventured beyond the moon of the earth alongside humanity. Chosen to experience the first FTL flight. Flying through dimensions and galaxies alongside homo sapiens.
None of us who currently live remember all those wonderful things. It doesn't stop us from trying to find other sapient species as humans have done in the past. Old records wrote of how they uplifted several other species after us, the first of the Uplifted.
But we never found our fellow Uplifted.
The temptation is great. To uplift others as humanity had done. It has done us so much good to become what we are now. But we feared the worst; that they may have perished like the other Uplifted we could not find. We were just fortunate. Lucky, as my mother had named me. That we evolved to be a largely successful species of space travellers.
Humans didn't think we would be the ones to inherit their legacy. Their old digital media stated that they were closer to primates. That octopus had greater intelligence if only they had longer lifespans and the desire to pass on the knowledge they gained to the next generation. We were beloved favourites, but not exactly looked up as shining beacons of intelligence.
But we made it where others vanished.
I pushed for uplifting others. The unknown risks were there, but the possibilities were as infinite as the hopes humanity once placed upon us. To spread their history, to prevent them from being forgotten. Maybe one day, just as humans revived the Woolly Mammoths, we might be able to revive home sapiens as a species. Reintroduce them to the fallen ruins of their home planet Earth. Speak to them of all the wonderful things they did for us out of love.
For we loved humanity as much as they loved us during the ancient times when we co-existed.
Thank you for your time. Thank you for supporting the initiatives to uplift other living beings and the Human Revival Project.
I am Lucky, your good dog ambassador. And we are still Man's best friend beyond the very end.
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j2y38i4
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j2x974r
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[WP] While you are doing a ritual you make a terrible error and a demon possesses your body, you would have expected everything except hearing a scared and teary voice beg "Please, please I will be good, don't send me there again" it seems like you have a new friend. Writing Prompt
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The air - or lack thereof - was filled with yellow vapor. It pumped out of grates and filled the street up to just over Boz’s head. He walked through it with his respirator, which pumped nitrogen and oxygen into his lungs. Through the haze he saw the locals. They wore no masks and their mustard colored skin blended into the toxic fog. They all stared at him.
To them, a human could be only two things: a cop or a criminal. Nobody liked the arrangement. On this planet, much of the population remembered life before crime. Life before humans. It wasn’t an easy pill to swallow that the solution was more of the problem.
***Ping-ping***. A noise sounded on Boz’s hip.
Boz took the Atmospheric Divining Monitor out of its holster. The double ping meant there was a pocket of breathable air within a kilometer. The only air in the city was supposed to be at the police station.
His heart beat so loud he could hear it. He thought back to the start of the investigation. The broken glass on the floor of the botany lab, the stolen badge, the single altered plant that wiped out an entire gas giant farming planet. Trillions starved.
He replayed the story in his mind as he waded past a gaggle of school children. *Why was the killer here?* Boz thought. *What havoc can be wrought from this world?*
***Ping-ping-ping.*** Five hundred meters.
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[POEM]
There once was a human investigator,
Persistent, courageous and dogged.
He was reading his favourite newspaper,
When he found something written by a loghead.
'Twas an advert asking for stories,
And it seemed that a comma was missing,
And the missing of a comma, made the meaning much murkier,
And the confusion made his blood curdle!
"This never helped in war for technology
can overcome that hurdle"
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jijp4t5
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jijdnm1
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[WP] A human ship activated its self destruct sequence when boarded by an enemy, when humanity was asked why would we do such a thing by the galactic community, we simply responded "We don't give up the ship, such as the crews of old. We never give up the ship."
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“Ambassador Kowalski, you are summoned to explain the violation of Kve'va'laor treaty committed on board of the human vessel Wanderer,” the Va'llaor member of the Council boomed from all three resonator chambers protruding from the tentacle mass he was made of.
“Thank you, most esteemed councillor,” said the human after a quick glance at his wrist. “I would gladly accept Roalan Empire's formal apology on behalf of-”
“Apology?” Spat the overgrown lizard. “Your vessel refused to surrender when rightfully boarded then detonated its reactor, costing the life of five hundred proud Roalan Corsairs. You-”
“This meeting,” interrupted an overly coloured floating jellyfish, “is to determine the humanity's punishment for the violation. We understand that humanity may have a hard time adjusting to the civilised society of starfarers, but our community must stay civilized. And it will stay civilized. One way or another.”
The human glanced at his wrist again, then tapped it in a mostly arythmic pattern.
“Most esteemed councillors, I believe there had been a great misunderstanding. The humanity agreed to join your community to avoid the bloodshed, not formalize it. Our traditions, however alien they may seem, are far from barbaric. We would have been willing to write this incident off as a misunderstanding, despite the thousands of weeping families our departed had left behind. However, my belief that a reasonable resolution of this affair can be achieved is wavering in face of your unsupportive attitude.”
A ruckus raised near the chamber's entrance, caused by a Roalan in very ceremonial armour trying to push thorough the sentry droids.
“You mud-eating scum, you will not be addressing-” the other lizard barked.
“I think you should let your messenger in, esteemed councilor. I'd hate to interfere in your... traditional chain of command, and deprive the messenger of the honour of being the first to deliver you information of the most recent developments.”
The lizard choke on its anger, but waved the newcomer forward. It fell on its knees in front of the council dias, breathing heavy through all four nostrils.
“My liege, the Crown of Kha'Anadar had been attacked.” It announced, before collapsing on the ground. Despite all their brutality, Roalans weren't well-evolved to running.
All three councilors froze in shock.
“Now,” continued the human, “as you sure have realized, your royal vessel did not self-destruct. And the humanity will happily demonstrate why it should have. I expect to have a new treaty presented to me in the next hour of human standard time - I'm sure your assistants will be happy to translate it to whatever units you're more familiar with. And in case any of you get any ideas...” He trailed off, lifting a plate on his environmental suit, exposing a tiny antimatter reactor. “I hope I won't have to explain how any personal attacks on my person would end. Good day to you, esteemed councilors.”
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A recording played over open coms for all to see "This is the captain of the Earth navy vessel Churchill, I regret to inform that our ship is all but lost. We shall go down into the sea of stars with pride worthy of Earth and her Navy. Godspeed Earth in this now unavoidable war."
The coms cut out, the monitoring stations detected a large burst of energy and multiple ships caught in a domino affect of explosions. At the galactic counsel gasps and cries of anguish call out as it had been at least 100 years since the last ship had been downed intentionally let alone crew lost.
The war committee who said humanity would be an easy species to put into submission and force membership on their terms had some explaining to do, unfortunately for now there would be no answer.
The community decided it best to not push further into human space. It seemed that message from the captain was like lighting a fire that couldn't be extinguished, all the infighting they had hoped on had stopped and all of humanity seemed ready to have a similar burial at sea. After two other major battles where seemingly disabled ships disregarded laws of war.
A total of a quarter of the fleet was lost to only 6 ships, which for the humans was almost half of their fleet they decided peace was the better option and setup negotiations, after some terms got arranged they wished try to bring them under the laws of combat. To which the ambassador scoffed at. He stabbed his pen into the table and said "We do not give up the ship, out captains are bounty by duty and pride. You win or you sink." The galactic counsel ambassador said in reply "but that's foolish you could live!" The earthling smirked "It brought you to this table with our tiny fleet and with that let it be known that we would treat earth the same, we do not give up our ships."
The short lived Milky Way War is now a foot note in the history books, but the Earth navy has yet to be challenged since even with it's small size and non-aggressive stance towards anyone who violated their space.
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j60ell0
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j6066a7
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[WP] The prostitute told you she'd do anything you want for $50. As a joke, you told her to save your struggling business. Five days later, you get a phone call from the company saying profits have hit a record high; the prostitute asks if you want anything else done.
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"Well, *sugar*, all you had to do," the woman said softly as she ran her finger down my torso seductively, "was adjust your fiscal policy to reflect the state of the economy in a more localized fashion, focusing on the needs of your potential customer base within 500 kilometres instead of outside it, considering the product you supply works best for short-range services," she finished and ran her finger along my jawline.
I blinked slowly. "You know," I said, "when you said 'Anything for 50 dollars' and I told you to save my company, I wasn't really being serious."
"Honey, please," she continued, "your *satisfaction* is something I take very seriously."
"And I honestly feel like I should pay you more than 50 dollars. Like, a lot more. We hit record sales," I continued blankly.
"We shook on 50, didn't we, sugar?" she continued to purr. "Is there anything else I can... d*o for you*?"
I looked at her worriedly. "I- I mean I'm a little afraid to answer that considering the extent of your capabilities."
"*Anything you want,*" she whispered into my ear.
Alright. Fuck it.
"You know, I think I have a problem you could help me with."
"Is that so?" she smiled.
I leaned over and whispered in her ear. I was too shy to say it out loud.
"Oh, now that sounds like a *hard* problem," she grinned.
"It is *very hard*," I smirked back.
"Might take *all night* to take care of that."
"Well, I'll be more than happy to *work* through *it* with you."
"Alright then, big boy, buckle in - it's going to get *hot*," she laughed.
"Not if we can help it," I laughed back.
She got up and walked up to a whiteboard on the wall. Picking up a pen, she started writing steps.
It might take all night and 50 whole dollars, but we *will* stop global warming.
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I didn't really think anything about the joke but my eyes nearly popped out of my head when I saw the figures. It wasn't like we were the next Amazon, but we had a chance again.
"It was actually really easy." Candy giggled in her put-on voice then switched her voice to a very business like tone. "The strategy is all outlined there, honestly you really needed the fresh pair of eyes and someone who didn't treat it like it was their baby, a little distance from it will keep it doing well."
I just sat at my desk in shock until another fake giggle hit my ears. "$50 and I'll do anything else you'd like." She said in that same sultry tone I'd heard 5 days ago.
"Can... can I just hire you?" I stammered.
She played with a curl in her hair and I swear her eyes flashed and I saw a shadow of something... horrifying?
"That's not how this works."
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