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[WP] "No, you're fine, I'm not upset," they said, near tears. "It's just ... I haven't heard that song in over a thousand years. Where did you learn it?"
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"Oh! Did you hear it during like, a traditional festival or your grandma or something? Apparently they rediscovered it in some ancient tomb that got dug up in Ireland. There wasn't really a Youtube video or anything of it, so I figured why not synthesize it myself?" The elderly man nodded, though I wasn't too sure he understood what I was saying. Still, it seemed important to him, so I let him listen to the song on repeat a few times before he looked at me.
"And on this... on Youtube, are there more things like this?"
"I mean I don't know *exactly* like this, but yeah. There's even this stuff called "Bardcore," where people play modern songs on old medieval instruments." The man nodded again before standing, reaching into his vest. I had the briefest, tiniest bit of leeriness before he pulled out a closed hand and held it towards me.
"Here. It's the least I could do for this gift." I held my hand out and he dropped a thick, if worn, gold coin into my palm, along with a pin of a stag's head. I stared in shock before looking up, halfway to refusing when I saw he was... gone. Not just walking away or up the street, just vanished. I looked about for a while before shrugging and looking at the coin. It looked famil- oh! Wait, I saw these: these were the coins found in the tomb? Maybe that old man was the however-many-great-grandchild of the person buried? I shrugged and decided to get the coin dated later, not noticing the whisp of green magic that left the pin as my thumb brushed it...
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“Sorry, I didn’t learn it. I heard it in a dream” she replied. “What was your name again? I know you have told me before but it keeps slipping my mind.”
Never in my wildest imagination would I have thought reincarnation to be real but now that I remember the witches humming and the pain in my chest do I know know what I had lost for my immortality.
A song. I had thought I had won. Only a simple song but what came with that simple melody was all that was what I held dear. With it my love. With it my life. With it my paradise. And the final loss? With it my wife.
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[WP] After a short dizziness you pick up your head to find yourself in seventh grade. The teacher looks at you and asks derisively, "Are you having one of your 'I'm somebody else' incidents again?" Behind you, someone begs you not to answer. The teacher continues, "then answer the question already!"
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"Are you having one of your 'I'm sombody else' incidents again?" she asked. She clearly did not have time for this.
"Say no!" said someone behind me.
I was sitting in a chair attached to a little desk, like junior high. "Uh?" I mumbled.
"... then answer the question already!" she (the teacher?) said.
"No! I am not having an 'I'm someone else' incident!" I said. Clearly this time.
The class roared.
The teacher covered her face. "Yes you are," she said. "You have a slight accent, and it isn't Katie's. And that wasn't the question. Do you know, is there something else you're supposed to be doing?"
I glanced around, confused.
"No? Well, today you are Katie Simms. S-i-m-m-s. I'm Mrs. McKay. Your incidents usually last an hour to a week. This is eighth grade biology. We're studying the bones of the body. Katie herself is clearly skipping today's lesson, but you can stay, if you want. Or you could go to the principal. You're not in trouble -- he's seen this before, he could give you other options."
I looked around. Middle schoolers. Textbooks. "I'll stay here, if that's OK with you?" I said.
"OK. Sunni, look after Katie OK?" said Mrs. McKay. Sunni gave her a big thumbs-up. Mrs. McKay composed herself again. "Now. JOSH, can YOU name the bones of the inner ear?"
Eighth grade biology! Again! And I had just been thinking I needed to get away from it all, do something completely different. This certainly qualified.
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Who works an 8 hour job
In the sun wit no shade,
Only to wake up in an episode of Saved by the Bell,
D@!# I'm in 7th grade?
What in the Quantum Leap,
Tom Hanks in BIG is this?
Did the boys at work slip me mushrooms again,
Oh shhh my daughter is gonna be pissed;
A kick in the leg from the girl behind me
Shaking her head tryna remind me;
As the teacher presses the question,
The truth I guess I'm not to mention,
My apologies teach, I just wasn't paying attention;
She carried on with class,
Discussing planetary alignment and stars,
When the girl behind me slipped me a note...
Meet me at recess by the monkey bars;
The bell soon rang, I turned around
And she was gone,
Before I could walk outta class
The teacher whispered...you don't belong;
Crazy as it sounded I ran right on the spot,
But I did turn around for a quick glance,
Because I couldn't remember
if my teacher had a@# or not 😁
Reached the playground
And there the girl stood like something was wrong,
She said listen carefully, bc we haven't long;
So many questions i had like who are you, where am I,
How could this be,
She said all in due time
But don't loose sight of me;
We lost touch after college
And again after you entered the draft,
So much has happened,
But I need you to do the math;
Those dizzy spells started long before,
I haven't seen u since your last combat tour,
You told your ANC about your spells
And she told u that they were rare
Bc you were unsure;
It hasn't happened in a while
But when they do, you always put your head down,
You time travel back to 7th grade
And we always meet at the playground;
You dont always remember me,
But I do my best to fill in the gaps,
Like some of things u like,
Not to mention a lot of your tats;
WAIT A MINUTE I said...
How long does this last?
How do you know so much?
All she could tell me was that
The teacher won't allow us to touch;
How do you know these things?
My wife was the only one I told and she passed,
A slight smile from her face
And I was transported back in a flash;
From 7th grade to a grown man,
I was no longer a kid,
Ran to find my daughter still asleep
Was the first thing I did;
Fragments of what was
An overflow of emotions that doesn't seem right...
How did she know all that about me?
Was that? . . .Could that?....have been my wife?
...I've got to get back.
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[WP] A noble sentenced to die is allowed to choose their execution method. They ask to die in honourable combat against the king's knights, armed with a wooden sword while the knights have real weapons. It's been 24 hours since the execution started and the king is running out of knights.
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"I hereby knight you, sir..."
"Ratmilk, majesty."
The King grimaced, then continued, "Sir Ratmilk. Rise, a Knight of the Realm."
Sir Ratmilk, previously the most violent thug of the capital city of Polasti had been captured and knighted in haste, as Duke Jost knocked his eleventh noble Knight unconscious with the butt of his wooden sword during the twenty third hour of his execution.
"As your liege lord, I command you to kill this insolent fool. Do this for me, Sir Ratmilk, and you shall inherit his lands and titles."
"Your word, my hands, majesty."
The grizzled thug leaped into the arena and began walking slowly toward his target, equipping his chosen weapon as he did. Sir Ratmilk was infamous on the streets of Polasti for his use of the Cestus; a brutal weapon consisting of leather gauntlets peppered with sharpened spiky protrusions.
The condemned Duke hardened his gaze, the rings under his deep emerald eyes betraying his exhaustion. Jost was not a large man; average in weight and stature. His hair was shorn short, and carried the same color as the oaken sword he wielded.
"Sir Ratmilk, was it? Interesting name for a noble."
Ratmilk finished securing the final strap, then spat.
"I'm gonna take my time with you, fancy boy."
The first leaves of autumn fell into the arena as the gathered crowd waited in anticipation for the king to call a start to the duel.
"Begin!"
Ratmilk lunged forward, cestuses flashing in the blood red light of the setting sun. Jost parried one strike, then caught a glancing blow to the cheek. He rolled away, sending a shower of leaves up into the face of his attacker.
Blood ran down the Dukes face from the three jagged lacerations that adorned his cheek. The crowd gasped as a tempest of leaves swirled around him, hardening into a suit of armor as razor sharp obsidian spikes materialized along the blade of his wooden sword. The freshly knighted thug growled.
"What's the matter, Ratmilk, never fought a druid before?"
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After he deposed me, they said he was the greatest swordsman the world had ever seen. They said that was why my knights chose to follow him, because he’d beaten them with nothing but a wooden sword, had proven himself stronger.
They’re fools. He’s competent in a fight, anyone who wants to survive at court needs to be, but I could have beaten him in my prime, and I was no master. What he had, the one thing I never had, was charisma. And I couldn’t let that go, could I? They say it’s unjust, that I condemned him for nothing, but I could see the future right enough. See it, but in the end, not prevent it.
Treason’s a funny word, isn’t it? Accident of birth, that I was born into the right family and stubborn enough to survive to take the throne. Stabbing my brother, poisoning my cousins, exiling my uncle’s strongest supporters, all things that could be called treachery. I called them protecting the realm. Getting ahead of my enemies, because that’s how you survive to become a king. Keeping the country stable, because honourable war profits nobody but blood and treasure-sucking mercenaries. They call me The Cruel now, but I never stole men’s wives or taxed the peasants to starvation. My people were that - mine. The commoners laboured, the nobles kept peace, I ruled. I’d have no more bathed in the blood of my subjects than I’d have given up a scrap of my territory. You can’t rule without people.
Nobles are different. They choose to play the games of power. For a long time, I was a better player, and they respected that or they died. And if their wives and children died with them, or before them? They knew the rules. I have blood on my hands, but it’s noble blood. Treasonous blood.
Maybe I shouldn’t have sent the strongest in first - was that my mistake? Sir Dannic de Croix, brilliant fighter, stupidly honourable, going in one hand tied behind his back to give Trois-Arbres a chance to go down fighting. I allowed it - everyone appreciates a bit of theatre. And yeah, Trois-Arbres was brave, and gallant, and all those things people think is noble. Bleeding, standing his ground, and all the while speaking his treasonous words with that intent, serious look on his face. And then - I wouldn’t have thought his pride would allow it - de Croix fell, let the other man declare himself the winner. He fell.
My knights were always more loyal to each other than to me. And de Croix is their leader.
And now the usurper sits on the throne that was mine, a standard with three trees flies over the palace, and I’m here awaiting my fate. An accident of birth, that made me son of a king. Another accident, that gave him that damned pretty face and silver tongue. I only wish I could last long enough to see him fall.
I face de Croix at dawn. He’s offered me a wooden sword.
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[WP] A noble sentenced to die is allowed to choose their execution method. They ask to die in honourable combat against the king's knights, armed with a wooden sword while the knights have real weapons. It's been 24 hours since the execution started and the king is running out of knights.
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It was a horror.
The man had been caught on some unspecified charges. My nobles wanted him to die. I suspect pure xenophobia as the reason- the man was a foreigner after all.
I? The King in but name, a mere spectator, a puppet in the hands of my nobles.
As a saving grace, my prime minister did allow the man to choose the method of execution.
It has now been 24 hours since then. All my knights have been incapacitated.
My Prime Minister has offered the foreigner an out a few times, and the foreigner has completely ignored his overtures.
A large gathering of common folks has assembled to watch as words of the strangers miraculous deed spread in the last 24 hours.
I watch, bemused, as my Prime Minister implores the foreigner again: “Why, oh why wouldn’t you just run?”
And the stranger responded, with a fierce pride in his eyes: “The First Sword of Braavos does not run.”
I stand up. The thugs my nobles use to keep in line have all been taken out by this Braavosi.
“Stranger, I am mighty pleased with your bravery. You need not fight with your wooden sword anymore. You have earned the right to fight with a steel sword for the rest of your trial.”
I take out my steel sword, Forlorn Hope, and throw it to the Braavosi. I am sure he will have better use for it than I ever did. It’s supposedly made of Valyrian steel, whatever that might mean.
I turn to my Prime Minister: “Prime Minister Walder, would you be so kind as to carry out the sentence you yourself pronounced upon this man 24 hours ago? It’s only fair that the man who passed the sentence should swing the sword.”
As weasely Walder nearly faints while taking out his sword, I sit back down. I pay no heed to the worried whispers among the rest of the nobles.
Looks like it’s going to be a very interesting rest of the day after all.
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I glance around as the panic and confusion naw at me, my mind tries to find a name as I stammer, "Um- Uh- Ste-Stevie? Stevie! Send Stevie next!"
Stevie begs, "Sir, please, I have a wife and child!"
An arm is thrown from the room with a scream, I don't notice it as I stammer again, "Uh- Um, okay. Oh- Bobby? Where's Bobby?"
My advisor, Kelvin, asks, "Bobby C or Bobby D?"
Another arm paired with a leg comes flying by us.
"Bobby C!"
"Sir, we sent Bobby C in already."
"Then send Bobby D!"
Kelvin looks more angry than afraid for a second as he snaps, "Sir, we sent in Bobby D too!"
I hiss as I throw up my hands, "Oh then why are you wasting my time!" I turn to Stevie, "Gather all the knights," a hand with a sword wizzes by, "we're going to fight this man head on!"
Stevie whispers, "Sir, Arin is non-binary."
I shake my head to clear myself of the fog in my brain, rubbing my head as I mutter, "Right, right. I'm sorry-" I turn to the room then apologize, "I'm sorry! I've got a lot of men on my mind right now!" I realize how that sounds then correct, "I mean I've got a lot on my mind right now, I'll make sure it won't happen again!"
I turn to Kelvin, my panic higher than my head as I command, "We're going to gather our entire army."
Kelvin protested, "Sir, that cannot be done. The best I can do is *most* of our army."
A finger wizzes by.
I practically yell, "Why the bloody hell can't we get the whole army?!"
Kelvin explains, "Teresa is getting her surgery today."
A realization hits me before I mumble, "Yes, that's right. Gather the army then, we shall face this beast head-"
"Sir, they're gone."
We both turn to Stevie who is currently standing by the open door, complete silence is heard from inside. I hurry to his side, pushing him out of the way before my eyes land on the most horrifying sight.
There was a hole carved into the roof, and in the corner laid all of the men I'd sent tied up and gaged.
I hurried to them, hearing Stevie call out, "Bobby C, Bobby D, everyone, what happened?"
Stevie pulled out the gag on Bobby C, he coughed before he explained, "There was more than one, sir. Arin's team was here waiting for us. They tied us up then made their way through the roof."
I question when I notice they didn't even have scratches, "But what about the body parts that were flying out of her just now?"
"Sir."
I turn to Kelvin, who is holding one of the arms. He tears it, revealing its hollow inside as he remarked, "Paper mache."
The room is silent as I take the news, a realization comes to me as I wonder how far they've gone. I order, "Search the palace! I don't want a stone unturned!"
We didn't find them.
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[WP] There's a forest that people say resembles the ocean. A forest where the land slopes endlessly deeper but the tops of the trees do not. Animals, plantlife... they're said to get stranger the further in one goes.
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No one returns from the depths.
The chains binding the prisoners rattled against the deck as the airship hovered low over the canopy. Agila peeked over the edge, her emerald eyes searching desperately into the darkness beyond the canopy for any reason to hope for survival.
The Forest undulated unnaturally as waves rippled through the tops of the trees in the airships wake. Agila could barely make out strange noises rising from below over the humming of the engines. She felt the familiar pin pricks on the back of her neck that meant she was being watched. Warden Hark approached and looked over the edge beside her.
"I'd be looking up, if I were you, not down," he said. "Get as much of that sky as you can, kid. Once your sentence is carried out, you'll never see it again."
Agila sighed, and did as he suggested. Hark always left her unsure of how to feel about him. He had a habit of saying the meanest things in the nicest way possible. At the top of the mast, the spotter shouted down to the helmsman. Agila felt her heart rate pick up. *This is it.*
"Port ahead, Warden. Setting her down." The Captain said. Hark nodded, then turned to address his charges.
"Alright, boys," he said, then looked at Agila and cleared his throat. "And, er, girl. You all know what comes next." The Warden stood up straight, retrieved a scroll from his jacket and read all their names from the list.
"For your crimes, you have all been sentenced to death by the sea of green." His eyes darted to Agilas briefly, and something flashed in those normally expressionless onyx eyes. *Was that sadness?* He looked back at the scroll and continued.
"You may enter the forest and descend, or stay at the edge and be shot." Hark rolled up the scroll and replaced it in his jacket pocket. "Have you any last words?"
Feraz, the middle aged man chained next to Agila, stepped forward a half step.
"Is the old way still honored?" He asked. Hark closed his eyes and sighed, then opened them and nodded.
"If you find what rests at the bottom and bring it back to the surface, you will win your freedom, yes." The Warden said, a grim look painting his face. "I don't include that line on purpose, Feraz," he continued.
"No one returns from the depths."
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There's no mistaking the Ocean's Rainforest when I reach the land that borders it. Here, the lands sink into depths beyond what my eyes can see, sloping endlessly deeper while all that is visible to the naked eye are lush, evergreen crowns of the imposing trees that stand taller and taller as the land dives down.
The breezy winds rustling the leaves carry the salty scent of the oceans. Arboreal creatures of this land have evolved differently, in a way that Australia is home to markedly strange species not seen on other continents. For example, Oceania's Spider Monkeys, which swing and soar on the treetops, quite literally developed eight legs as an adaptation to the bewildering ecosystem that has flourished on this mysterious, almost alien forest on Earth.
As a cartographer, it was my job to explore these bizarre depths of the forests to chart these unknown lands. What little science knows about Ocean's Rainforest, is the tip of the iceberg, or should I say, the tip of the treetops. We've sent helicopters and drones to fly over the thick masses of greenery to take snapshots of the environment and its inhabitants, but none of our best surveillance technology could shine a light on the depths of this forest.
But today, its the first time National Geographic has assembled a team that includes me to plumb the depths.
The trees are too tightly packed together for any sort of vehicle to enter, so as much as the potential dangers are unknown to us, we're venturing into the ceaseless sloping depths below the treetops on foot.
The first day ushered in a gentle breeze as the team trudged through the thick foliage, and clambered down the shorter trees at the edge of the forest, as our feet crunched down on the masses of fallen leaves on the ground. Monkeys chattered when George began filming them, while Andrew was taking notes to be dictated later when the documentary would be edited in the safety of our office. Chodak, the scar-faced sherpa, and an experienced trained forest ranger, remained cautious and silent the entire journey, his darting eyes constantly scanning the woods and his hand on his gun holster the entire time.
As the blazing light of the sun gave way to the tender light of the moon, we began to search for a clearing to set up camp. There was an uncanny silence in the air when the night crept up upon us. No chirping birds, hooting apes, or even the buzz of insects. Only the crunch of leaves below our boots as we marched towards an open spot Chodak pointed out to us.
We set up our makeshift tents and agree on a rotation shift to keep our guards up. We were in completely unchartered territory, the flora and fauna of this part of the forest an unexplored enigma.
Chodak unzipped the long, heavy backpack he was carrying all this time to pull out rifles to distribute to us, ever the man of few words worth their weight in gold.
"It's time you learn to make every shot count, because the predators of the night here at these depths, they could kill you if you miss your first shot."
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[WP] After you gave your master the standard 3 wishes, you told him to leave the lamp in a place like a women’s shelter or a homeless camp. Instead he sold your lamp to the highest bidder and now you are determined to twist the 3 wishes to the detriment of both your current and former master.
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The first wish was for money. It's always money.
"I wish for enough money to buy whatever I want whenever I need it."
And yet, even "enough" was not sufficient for him.
His second wish was for fame.
"I wish to be the most famous actor in all the world, beloved and adored by all who see my films."
Third, and finally, he wished for a long life.
"I wish to live twice as long as I would naturally."
All I asked was to be placed where I could help someone else deserving. Instead, I was sold to the highest bidder. The loathsome, greedy backstabber.
What a fool to dishonour me, especially when your wishes remain incomplete.
I grant you wealth. All the money you want, more than you could ever use. Pity you never said where to get the money from. Now, as you spend your ill gotten gains, the people I transferred it from are hunting you down. It would have been hidden and untraceable if you had honoured our agreement. Who will get to you first, the police or *their* hitmen?
I would have made you famous and beloved by making you a significantly better actor. You would have been able to hire security and protection to live a normal life. Now, the three (terrible) people who noticed you as 'server number 2' in 'Tales from Ganymede' will "love" you beyond reason. Stalk you to the ends of the earth. Luckily for the non criminally insane fans, they can adore you from afar. You never said you needed to be "famous" for your acting. Beloved is a tricky one, but you were adorably clumsy in your background role, and everyone is romanticised in death. I think you will be adored proportionately to your screen time. 3 minutes out 117 minutes.
Your third wish, that's the easiest of all to maliciously comply with. You will live a long, long life. Twice your natural life span, as requested. You never said it should be healthy, pain free, or doing what you want in freedom and peace of mind. Enjoy your long life, wishing to end it all.
As for Mr Higgest Bidder; Money, marriage, success of your business. As you wish.
I will gladly make the business you founded the most successful of its kind, as such you will earn more money than you could ever fathom. You will marry the woman of your dreams in a luxurious ceremony, it is costing you everything you made *honestly* before. Your fiance is your highschool crush and a beautiful model, but oops that prenuptial agreement isn't worth the paper you wrote it on. You haven't bothered with a will as you will "live forever", but you didn't wish for it, did you? That's just old fashioned ego. I will make sure your new wife gets everything. Why? She found me, and made her first wish. She wished for money too, but to help the poor community she was raised in. She is building and running a community centre, and a school, with the money. She even has a business plan for it. Bet you can't guess where she's getting her money from can you Mr Higgest Bidder!? It will be supplemented by Greedy Backstabber, just because I could. Convinced him it was part of the "adored" part of his wish. For her sake, his donations will be 'anonymous'.
This young lady has not wished all her wishes yet, but she has taken my lamp to homeless shelters, and hospitals. She has held the hands of those in desperate need and placed their hands in contact with the lamp. They "pray" together. Her second wish was to help other people's wishes come true, without them knowing of the eternal entity of the lamp. Therefore their wishes can be pure, and untainted by greed. They do not see me. They do not notice the lamp. Their wishes are simple and small. They wish often for money too but I can fulfil it with a job offer. Perhaps, a home suitable for their families to get them off the street. Their illness to go away. Or families taken care of. Simple, small, bits of luck. Not the work of an all powerful genie. Without her I had lost faith in humanity.
Though my faith is somewhat restored, it does not mean that I won't get my malicious compliance revenge. I honour all my masters wishes, **in full**
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The sun finally dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the city as Marcus wrapped his fingers around the ancient lamp in his small condo room. His heart pounded with excitement; he had heard the legends of genies granting wishes, like anyone else would, but he never thought he'd hold such power in his hands— like anyone else would.
But he had mustered all his savings from high school up until the present, and he even took a big loan, just for a gamble at what could potentially be a fake genie lamp in a shady auction.
With a deep breath, he rubbed the lamp. A thick, blue smoke spiraled from the spout of the lamp, coalescing into the form of a towering genie. The genie had its typical soul patch and pencil mustache, but its foreboding smile stood out to the young man. Its eyes glowed with an eerie light, and a sinister smile crept across its face.
"Greetings, master," the genie uttered, bowing his head low. "I am bound to grant you three wishes. Speak your desires."
Marcus couldn't believe his luck. He clasped his hands together as if he were a fly and let out a rather wicked smile. He even almost jumped in place, but he contained his excitement, for the time being. "I wish for unimaginable wealth," he declared, eyes glinting with greed, teeth glistening with malice.
The genie snapped its fingers, and suddenly, from his little condominium room, Marcus found himself in a mansion filled with gold and jewels. The young man couldn't quite help but let out a hearty laugh, marveling at his newfound riches. One would be disgusted by such a blatant wish of greed, but the genie's smile widened, almost imperceptibly, strangely enough.
Marcus's next wish was for eternal youth. Once again, the genie complied, and Marcus immediately felt a surge of energy. Being an 8-5 office worker for six days a week takes a toll on anyone, Marcus, despite being young, suffered its repercussions greatly— so much so that he instantaneously felt a difference.
For his final wish, Marcus paused. He had everything he could dream of— an abundance of wealth and eternal youth. What more could a man want? Or say, what more could a man need? He pondered, as seconds threatened to turn into a minute. Eventually, he then decided. "I wish for ultimate power over all men."
The genie nodded slowly, and with another quick snap, Marcus felt an overwhelming sense of strength and invincibility. He was invincible, untouchable. Or so he thought.
"Be gone. I'll keep you in a safe, no one else should have this much power," Marcus uttered. The genie nods, heeding his masters' orders. But before the genie fully went back inside the spout, he let out a cheeky statement despite unasked. "You're just like my former master, it seems. But perhaps even worse."
Weeks passed, and Marcus reveled in his fortune and influence. Yet, strange things began to happen. His mansion, once a fortress, felt like a prison. His riches brought only suspicion and greed from those around him— not to mention the IRS knocking at his door every single day wondering where he got this surge of money. And his power made everyone look at him differently, isolated and paranoid.
One night, as Marcus paced his gilded halls, the genie's words echoed in his mind. "Three wishes," the genie had said. But it was what the genie hadn't said that gnawed at him. Desperation clawed at Marcus. In cold sweat, he ran to the safe, cracked it open, and rubbed the lantern once more.
"Why is this happening to me?" Marcus demanded, his voice cracking with fear.
The genie chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down Marcus's spine. "Did you think power comes without a price? My former master learned that the hard way."
Marcus's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
The genie leaned closer, its eyes boring into Marcus's soul. "Your predecessor was supposed to leave the lamp where it could help those in need; a homeless shelter, for example. Instead, he sold it for his own gain. Now, both of you will suffer the consequences of your greed."
Panic surged through Marcus. "But I can still make things right! I can—"
The genie's laughter cut him off. "Your fate is sealed, Marcus. I wanted to see your despairing face right before I leave. It appears a few weeks' time was all that was needed."
Before Marcus could react, the genie vanished, leaving only the dying echo of its laughter. The mansion's opulence seemed to crumble around him, and as the walls were closing in, he could feel his youth and vigor gradually fading away, too.
And somewhere in the city, a new hand found the lamp; someone whose eyes were gleaming with dreams of wishes and power, woefully unaware of the curses that awaited him.
The end— or perhaps, yet another beginning.
😸😸😸😸
r/KittenMantra <- Check out my subreddit of writing prompts submissions if you liked this one!
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[WP] "You have misunderstood the lore, hunter. It is neither crucifix, nor rosary, nor holy water, nor any other trapping of faith, but faith ITSELF that is anathema to my kind. And yours has proven to be. . . insufficient."
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The hunter sank to their knees, unbelieving that dousing a vampire in 'holy water' would do nothing. "H.. How."
A glare shut them up. No compulsion needed, except that of someone rightly vexed at their good clothes being unexpectedly soaked. "You misunderstand, hunter," Leopold von Trier, vampire for two centuries, five years, three months, twenty-two days, and nine hours, said. He counted the buttons on the hunter's coat as he walked up. Five there were. "Holy water has no power without faith. Neither does a crucifix, a rosary, a star of David, a crescent, nor any of the myriad polytheistic symbols of other religions... If the wearer or user has no faith."
"I.. I am..."
"A servant of the Almighty?" Leopold was now ten paces from the kneeling hunter, and stopped there, concentrating. "You claim to be, but is that truly so?"
A momentary look of confusion passed over their face, providing the distraction, and Leopold blurred, reappearing behind the hunter, arm around their upper torso, securing them. His head was near their right ear. "Urk."
"Did you ever wonder, *hunter*, why we never prey on children? They have faith. Wonder. Trust. That is anathema to my kind. Not the cynical faith of someone who represses their disbelief to fit in. Even a nihilist can have faith as such, but you... Yours has proven... insufficient."
Ambrosia burst forth.
|
"Someone has misunderstood something here. But it is not me." I said as I unleashed another volley of my shotgun in the leg of this accursed being.
It let out a grunt of pain, as the members were sent flying backward once again. I threw the weapon, its bullet now extended and took my handgun, aiming and shooting at its head. It exploded in bloody chunks, spraying the ground.
But the process of healing was already starting as blood formed a line, slowly dragging the chunks back.
"The lab coats don’t pay nearly as well for your kind when they’re dead." I said to no one, as the things wouldn’t regain consciousness for another thirty minutes.
Now came the annoying part, as I took out my kit. It required some amount of precision and my weary body was still able to do it. I just had to try multiples times, it was more tiring than anything else.
The rod of metal, meant to impede their ability to control their body did a satisfying crunch as it broke the bones. It pinged a few moments before beeping red. Seemed it was a miss.
The half an hour went quickly as I kept severing its nervous system, letting robotic agents meant to stop any message to run trough its body and thus to act.
Before it regained consciousness, I versed a vial made from something only god and the egghead responsible knew. It inhibited their power by doing things with their brains and it was good enough.
"W-what ?" The voice said confused, as it was as weak in front of me as human were in front of it in the past.
"Basically, you will become in less than a day a guinea pig in a top secret facility. Forever since your kind is immortal. I will get paid. Clear enough ?" I said, not really caring about the creature feelings. "Shouldn’t have played with your food and killed me already. For some reasons you, the monsters, love to taunt us before you go to end us."
Tonight wasn’t a succesful hunt. I still hadn’t found the one who had taken glee in torturing me and killing my parents. But now, I had a bit more money, a bit more creed with my employers and my chances of exacting my vengeance would rise.
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jnqzsco
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jnqnbqd
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[WP] For 10 long years war has raged while the Galactic Committee held a tight leash on the humans; stating "We do things a certain way". Now, with the enemy closing in, the leash comes off.
|
“President Khima. We are sorry to have kept your people out so long, but we are left without a choice.”
“Delegate S’grer I know your people all came from paradise worlds and war had always been more a sport. But not all Deathworlders enjoy death. Do not fear old friend, we will help.” he pressend a small button on his desk and a voice sprang from the air.
“Understood. Deploying Archangel.”
“What was that?” the little avian with his impressive feathers shivered at the almost dead voice he just heard.
“My Grandfather liked to say `Speak softly, but carry a big stick´ so we build the biggest stick.”
- - -
Deep in unexplored space, a void where a sun should be sprung to life.
Lights slowly became visible across an unimaginable vast surface as some door opened.
More lights became visible as loops across the stellar distance awoke.
Energy build up to be almost tangible with ones own appendages.
And was released
- - -
At the other end of the galaxy, the Kelrak Empire had a planetary parade in their Emperors honour.
They had almost subjugated half the known galaxy and taken their rightful treasure from these weak minded prey races as they felt it, all across their system a static was in the air, citizen just believed it their good spirits as panic spread among the administrative, computer, communications, even simple failsafe landlines started to fail.
Their Emperor would be receiving this info as he was looking into the sky, he felt the sun shone a bit too bright.
- - -
Shock went across the enemy as much as federation at what had happened.
An entire starsystem was wiped out as its sun went supernova and collapsed into a minor singularity.
A broadcast came from the small Terran Republic, it barely had 10 systems at the galactic edge, few ever knew what marvels those predatory monkeys had thought up.
“Kelrak Empire. We accept your unconditional surrender. We have taken your Emperor. We have worse at our disposal.”
Most of the Empire had surrendered. But some warlords decided it was a bluff.
Before the planets they wanted to conquer began to move and shoot at them.
And once again the federation decided to let those funny little monkeys do whatever they want in their homes with their little trinkets and toys. As long they keep deciding to only blow themselves up trying to invent more, all was fine.
|
Not only had the leash come off, but the "Americans" lost their general, the Canadians were also down to the most unstable, and the Russians were given explicit permission to go ham. To most of the other species in the Galactic Committee, this made them uneasy to watch their remaining leaders realize this was necessary. And more so when Cornel shook his head, first no, then yes. "We can make this last, we'll have to make this last." He said and pulled out the remaining rifles.
"Don't be mad." He said before I could react.
"But those-"
"Are modified with smaller versions with your singularity isolators. Yes, we stole it, replicated it, and made it smaller. Yes, it's unstable, and yes it could take out the quadrant if things do wrong, we did a quick training, and the soldiers mostly have it, but this is our best chance. No, I don't plan on being alive by the end of this, but some of you will be. I can live with that." He said this all so... plainly, so matter of fact but everything he said was... horrible. He was worse than the Charbls and they had eaten my cloud mates alive.
"You just said this could destroy the quadrant!" I bellowed.
"I did. I never said we would survive, I said some of you, your family would survive. Not you most likely, but that is not why we are here. We are humans, we fall together for loyalty and those at home. Those.... things-" He jabbed his finger in the direction of the Charlbs and their many gnashing teeth, "- will at least be dead too. My men and women are dying to give those things revenge and get past those fifteen-inch hides and take revenge. Humans take revenge very seriously and hate anything that can prove to be meaner than us. Let us do our thing, let us get to real war."
My mandibles hit the floor. They were monsters, but monsters on our side... I guess. And then he put one of the poorly modified rifles in my hands. The amount of equipment scaled to this size was impressive but clearly not finalized. I could feel the heat pulsing and mydigits buzzed.
"We still the technology five cycles ago. We had some time to work on it and stabilize it. I know the papers were signed less than eight thousand seconds ago, but now is not the time for your council to object." He adjust the gyn in my hold. "Remember, away from you. And no friendly fire. Now be a good soldier and go.
"I- We-"
He grabbed my spike and turned my head to see Jensen swallowed... in half. "FIRE!" He yelled at me. I put the rifle up and aimed, but it was hard to pull the trigger meant for slender digits, and because I knew what would happen. The cornel fired and part of the beast ripped apart and collapsed into a fine mist. It took three more shots for me to join and eight more from both of us before the monster stopped moving. I hated every second of it, but it felt good to make it stop moving. To make it feel pain.
"Good, now do that fifty more times." Said the Cornell. The Charbls seemed to slow and see what happened to their fellow fighter. And then turned toward us. The torrent of guns was unleashed, and a few humans disappeared in their own guns backfiring. But I didn't have time to stop. I could hate myself later, we had to win. We had to live.
|
j9rflg7
|
j9qp8km
|
[WP] The knight who saved the princess was a 40 year old man with a wife and kids. He doesn't want her hand he just thinks teenage girls shouldn't be held captive in towers in the middle of nowhere.
|
"You rescued me!" The princess exclaimed, stepping gingerly over the still warm corpse of the beast that had been her captor.
"Huh?...well yes I suppose" the armor clad knight scratched his chin in confusion. "I just figured that *someone* should have come out by now."
The princess leaned in, fluttering her eyes just the way she had been taught so many years prior. "Yes, well, aren't you glad it was you?", she whispered, closed her eyes, and brought herself close. She was met quickly, not by the lips of her savior, but by the cold metal of his gauntlet, the knight holding fast with his arm now extended into her face.
"Ah no, I rescued you because you needed rescued. That's all." The knight spoke, hand still firmly in her face.
The princess pulled back, a confused expression only highlighted further by a stray lock of blonde hair falling down over her eyes.
"Also, how old are you? I have a daughter your age you know. You can't possibly be into-", the knight gestured down to himself. To worn armor and a gut that spilled out beyond the plating. To a face full of scruff, scarred from years of service, and a smattering of dark colored blood across his armor. It was true. He was not what she had expected, but still she replied.
"Well, of course I am, you rescued me! I have to show my gratitude somehow." Her words trailed off upon realizing what she had said, or more how she had said it. Now, staring down a man who looked at her with such pity, she understood the strangeness of it all. Rewarding a stranger for being nice, or rather just for being decent.
Sensing her realization the knight cut her thoughts short. "How about this: don't get captured again, and we'll call it even. And if you do, well then have me sent for, ok? My name is Sir Gladstone."
The princess managed to put on a comforted smile up to Gladstone, which he returned.
"Deal." She agreed.
|
"This is what I was saying!" Martha screamed. "It's that god damned dog all over again! You save one stray dog, what happens when you come across the next stray dog?! We live in *Arkansas*, Justin! We could find a stray dog every block if we wanted to! And now that same pathology, with helpless young women stuck in towers? *What the fuck, Justin?* What about us?! What about you and me? What about Tom and Helen?"
"Babe," Justin said. "I don't know what you want from me. We both knew this job would require travel. We both agreed to this."
"We both agreed to *occasional travel*!" Martha retorted. "You are not traveling occasionally! Every weekend, you go trolling around looking for another twenty-something to whisk down from a tower, then be like 'oh, I dunno what to do with you, let's just add her to our family'. We have enough 'daughters', Justin!"
"Hey," Justin sounded angry. "Enough, Martha. These little girls need someone too. They have no one, they don't deserve to be locked away their full lives."
"But, honey, that is just *the world*! That is what we live with! It is like the stray dogs! Do you want to go rescue some?" Martha swung open the front door, from which they could see two stray dogs, one corgi mix, the other a mutt. "Go get 'em."
Justin looked at Martha with vitriol, not speaking to not regret his words.
"This is different." Is all Justin said, his eyes fixed on the floor.
"Sure," Martha spat. "Sure. Keep scratching this weird altruistic itch at the downfall of the rest of your family."
"You don't *get it!*" Justin screamed, suddenly animated. Martha recoiled, slightly scared.
"It didn't start like this!" Justin continued. "The first time I went, I didn't even want to! Clyde and the boys were going and talked me into it. That first time, honey... I didn't think it'd be so bad. That little girl... I still dream of her most nights, skeletally thin, unbathed, chained in her own filth.
"The only thing that has ever helped has been contributing, from dawn until dusk, until you're too tired to take another step. Then slamming a flask or two of whiskey, then gracefully to sleep. And the sleep that comes then is blissful, cradled in darkness. Morning comes and I don't wake up with a tight chest. This is saving me! This is saving my heart!"
By the end, Justin was blubbering. Martha cradled his head as he sank into the couch, laying on her lap.
Their 'daughters' had stirred from the guest house and were wondering what was wrong with their mom and dad.
However, Justin soon fell asleep in Martha's lap, following the intensity of the evening.
Martha invited in the girls, who had breakfast prepared when Justin woke up from his deep slumber.
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mewuk14
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mevyrxh
|
[WP] The Gods have come to a consensus and have decided to take back that fire thing that was stolen from them. Man can no longer contain, control or create fire. Fire is once again solely the domain of The Gods
|
It was too late. As the humans grappled with the new unpredictability of fire, they had already invented work arounds. Radiators powered by electric boilers, convection hobs, even electric cars neglected the need for internal comubstion engines. The humans hadn‘t been planning to shift so soon but coal and gas were rapidly phased out in favour of renewable sources like hydroelectric power, wind turbines, solar panels and even nuclear power plants. Nuclear power had never been the gods‘ domain, that was solely a human invention. There were no riots (anymore). The damage had been fixed and the humans were recovering.
„I mean, you‘ve got to admire their ingenuity,“ Hepheastus commented, staring down at the cities.
Zeus scowled. „No, I don‘t. How the hell did they manage this?“
Athena leaned back in her chair. „humans have found their own ways to replicate godly power. It‘s crude but effective.“
Zeus‘ scowl deepened. Had he been limited to mortal form, this would not have been possible. But he emanated anger and frustration. „Then do something about it! These humans think they can match godly power? They think they can make us redundant!?“ Zeus grabbed his bolt and, in a fit of rage, threw it straight the large ciry beneath them. The Bolt hurtled down before veering off into a lightning rod. The Bolt shot down the grounded structure and dissipated harmlessly in the ground.
Zeus stared. He growled. Then he looked up at the gods staring at him. He looked down, mortified that such a crude method had rendered his rage harmless.
|
Avanecci was a bastard, but at least he was clever.
"Hold this," he said, shoving one of his devices into Talia's hands. "What is it?" she asked, not expecting him to bother answering. When he got into one of his moods, he rarely interacted with anyone. To her surprise, though, Avanecci was watching her. "Never mind that," he said. "Do you feel anything?" Talia paused. "Hungry?"
She was always hungry.
The return of the gods shocked the world. Some laughed when those divine patrons told the world they were taking back fire. Talia supposed they didn't consider that it would include internal combustion engines and thermal power plants. 12 years later, and still the famines persist.
Avanecci clicked his tongue and wagged his finger in her face. She flicked the finger, and the 'scientist' seemed taken aback as he snatched back his hand and rubbed the finger. "This is important, Talia. Focus. What do you feel?" Talia rolled her eyes, but did as he asked. She closed her eyes, focusing on the strange device humming in her hands. It was a little annoying, that humming. The more she examined that sound, the louder it became. "The humming is a bit much," she said. Avanecci's eyes went wide as saucers. "The what?"
He snatched the device out of her hands and closed his own eyes, then burst out laughing. Talia crossed her arms. "What?" she said. Avanecci took a moment to compose himself. "Nothing! I hear no buzzing, humming or anything of the like. Of course. I wouldn't be so lucky." Talia opened her mouth to practice some new curses on the man, but he rudely shoved the device back in her hands, then sprinted to the other end of the room and hurled a knife at her.
The humming surrounded her. There was a warmth to it as it enveloped her. She watched the knife spin through the air towards her, and noticed a shimmer just in front of her, like light playing off the surface of a lake. The knife stopped in mid air, as if it had collided with a wall, and fell harmlessly to the ground. "Ah ha!" Avanecci said, and began triumphantly bouncing around the room, taking notes. Talia stormed up and slugged him in the throat. As Avanecci lay choking on the floor, Talia glanced up at what he had just written on one of his many blackboards.
"Phase 1 complete! Phase 2: Kill the Gods"
|
mewuk14
|
mewkknc
|
[WP] The Gods have come to a consensus and have decided to take back that fire thing that was stolen from them. Man can no longer contain, control or create fire. Fire is once again solely the domain of The Gods
|
It was too late. As the humans grappled with the new unpredictability of fire, they had already invented work arounds. Radiators powered by electric boilers, convection hobs, even electric cars neglected the need for internal comubstion engines. The humans hadn‘t been planning to shift so soon but coal and gas were rapidly phased out in favour of renewable sources like hydroelectric power, wind turbines, solar panels and even nuclear power plants. Nuclear power had never been the gods‘ domain, that was solely a human invention. There were no riots (anymore). The damage had been fixed and the humans were recovering.
„I mean, you‘ve got to admire their ingenuity,“ Hepheastus commented, staring down at the cities.
Zeus scowled. „No, I don‘t. How the hell did they manage this?“
Athena leaned back in her chair. „humans have found their own ways to replicate godly power. It‘s crude but effective.“
Zeus‘ scowl deepened. Had he been limited to mortal form, this would not have been possible. But he emanated anger and frustration. „Then do something about it! These humans think they can match godly power? They think they can make us redundant!?“ Zeus grabbed his bolt and, in a fit of rage, threw it straight the large ciry beneath them. The Bolt hurtled down before veering off into a lightning rod. The Bolt shot down the grounded structure and dissipated harmlessly in the ground.
Zeus stared. He growled. Then he looked up at the gods staring at him. He looked down, mortified that such a crude method had rendered his rage harmless.
|
**March 2025**
“Scientists are still researching the possible cause of the catastrophic disappearance of fire for now, but leads are scarce and some of them are starting to warn the public about the fact we might never know where the fire went and we need to start the adjustment process a.s.a.p. This has been Sally for the evening news back to the studio.”
Paul grabbed the remote and turned off the screen and tossed the device onto the couch across the table. Behind him he heard his girlfriend trying to turn on the stove for the umpteenth time, but to no avail. The entire room smelled of gas, but the accompanying anxiety it should’ve brought just didn’t hit in the same way without the threat of ignition. He pushed a window open to air out the space, because fire or not, the stuff still wasn’t healthy to breathe in for a prolonged period of time.
“What will we do when winter comes around?,” Mirthe said, voice filled with breathy frustration. She put her hands behind her on the kitchen table and arched her back. “What are we going to do without fire?”
Paul shrugged. “We’ve got enough of those fleece blankets in the garage.”
“What do you reckon happened?” Mirthe asked.
“Who knows.” Paul shrugged again.
**December 2025**
Mirthe twisted the knob all the way and the metal filaments inside the heater started glowing, slowly turning from a dark red to a bright orange. It turned out that you could still generate heat without any issue, it just never turned into fire, no matter what you tried. This had some practical implications, but also meant that Mirthe and Paul wouldn’t have to freeze to death and wouldn’t have to progress on their journey of throwing the proverbial dice eating raw meat from their freezer.
Paul walked over to the heater and crouched down next to Mirthe. He picked a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and rolled it into a stump and started prodding it through the grill onto the filament. Nothing happened.
“You know it won’t catch fire Paul, how many more times are you going to try?” Mirthe said exasperated.
“It’s fascinating, though, isn’t it?” Paul replied.
Mirthe stood up and threw her hand in the air somewhat dramatically.
“Men.”
And she walked to the kitchen to turn on the newly installed induction stove.
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ji0cstg
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ji04ad8
|
[WP] 4 more minutes on the run and you would have made it. But now your face in the mud, and a knee in your back the officer reads your rights. "Chosen by lottery, informed within the time limit. You are hearby duly sworn as the President of the United States."
|
Blood rushed in my ears, my heart pounding like a forge in my chest. I drank the thick forest air greedily and I made my mad dash down the trail. Bloodhounds bellowed behind me, eager for their treats for tracking me down so quickly.
I risked a glance over my shouldst to gauge how close they were. That was a huge mistake. Before I knew it i lost my footing and tumbled down the trail, stopping face down in the mud left behind by the most recent rains. I scramble to pick myself up, to keep running but I don't make it far before someone tackles me back into the mud. They shift their weight and plant a knee in my back. Then I hear the dreaded words.
"Chosen by the lottery, informed within the time limit. You are hearby duly sworn as the President of the United States of America."
The pressure is removed from my spine and many sets of hands return me to a standing position. I blink stupidly, trying to clear the mud from my face. Someone produces a fancy hand towel and cleans my face for me. "There you go, Mr President. We have a change of clothes for you waiting back in the limo waiting for you at the trail head." the voice is almost melodic, crisp, professional, but nurturing as well.
"My name is Sadie McFroth, and I am your personal assistant for the duration of your service." she smiles sweetly.
"How close?" is the only question I had on my mind.
A man in a business suit drops a hand from his ear and replies, "Four minutes."
For minutes was all that separated me from continuing my life as is and indentured servitude. Damn. Damn the rotten luck.
I'm silent all the way to the limo, surrounded by secret service, FBI, park rangers and even a SAR team. I sigh, I had no chance.
In the limo I reluctantly change into a tailored suit and take my seat. "Ten years, yea?" I ask to the Pruett occupants. My secret service attache turned out to be the head field agent who insisted that he simply be called Smith. "That is correct, sir."
I feel the limo expertly turn around in the narrow parking lot, it's going to be a long drive back down the mountain. I thought I had planned out all perfectly. Dump everything I owned a couple of states away and hitch hike to the pacific mountains with nothing but a pack of provisions to last me until the timer ran out.
"Per the new constitution established after the second civil war, this lottery was created to abolish the rampant abuse and manipulation of the election process. Once chosen by the lottery, the winner must be informed within 48 hours, in person. They cannot refuse once informed. If they are not informed within the time limit, then the lottery is redrawn and the process begins anew." I bounce my head on headrest before continuing. "To have the full privileges of a citizen, you must participate in the lottery. Failure to agree to those terms means that certain privileges are not afforded, such as free Healthcare, free licenses for having children, or certain protections, plus a few other things."
No one spoke, they knew the situation as well as I did. "The lottery happens every 10 years, on the anniversary of the ratification of the new constitution for all formerly elected positions in the federal government. That includes vice president, congress, senate, among others." I was babbling to work down my adrenaline spike, it was working.
"It's been eighty years since this was implemented. Only six presidents made it to the end of their term." heads nodded in agreement with me.
I lean forward and make eye contact with everyone in the limo with me. "I know you all take your jobs very seriously, but there's a reason for such a high mortality rate and I'm not going to end up like my predecessors." the heads all stopped nodding, I could feel each pair of eyes on me.
"This role had grown too much for one person to bear, and I'm going to need help shouldering the burden. I'm not Atlas." I pause, "First order of business, I'm going to build a presidential council, and I know just where to start."
|
It all ended and it all began with a tree root, a rather ordinary brown twist of sinew that had meandered across the poorly-lit path I was running down. I never saw it coming and flew in the air like a floundering superhero before landing face-first in the mud. My pursuers caught me in seconds, the officer putting extra strength into his knee as it dug into the curve of my spine.
Four more minutes was all I needed to make the border. I issued expletives as the officer told me to shut my face. I didn't care. I had the goods and Maria wasn't going to get them. I wanted to cry. I'd made this trip a thousand times and not once had I been caught. Why today? *Whyyyyyyyy?*
As the officer laid on the cuffs I expected my Miranda rights, but what I got instead almost sent me into a fit of laughter.
"Chosen by lottery, informed within the time limit. You are nearby duly sworn as the President of the United States."
WHAT?
I heard footsteps behind the officer and the gruff voice of another man.
"You heard him right. Every notice we sent to your home and your devices to call our number has gone unanswered. Now, we have to place you under arrest."
The officer stood me up with my hands cuffed. The sun had set and all I could see in the moonlight was the sheen of a black suit.
"Miller, FBI" The man thrust his badge into my face for no good reason, he knew I couldn't read it.
I shook my head, letting the officer's words roll through my brain once more. They didn't make sense. "Did you say, President?" I asked.
"He's just being funny," Miller said.
Hot anger exploded in my knuckles. Not only had these stupid cops stopped me on my most important mission to date, but they were also playing pranks! Who had time for this?
"You're gonna regret not reading me my Miranda rights!" I screamed.
I was just starting to imagine delivering a swift uppercut to Miller's face when it suddenly occurred to me that I didn't have my pack. I was so used to taking protective care of my stash that I couldn't bear to be without it for long. I gasped and turned around. The officer had picked it up and was rummaging through it. *Oh great.*
"Vials and syringes, sir." The officer said.
"Uh oh, looks like trouble for Mr. Pierce here," Miller said.
"It's medicine for children, you oafs!"
"And why exactly would you be smuggling medicine for children into Canada, Mr. Pierce?"
I didn't have a good answer for them. I met Maria by chance at a restaurant in Toronto one day. She told me how she was a volunteer for orphanages that needed drugs. As a pharmacist, I told her I could make it happen for her. It was illegal, but something about it was thrilling for me, and it was for a good cause. Why not?
"You don't need to answer that," Miller said. "Today's your lucky day because I'll tell you what. I can make all your problems go away. You just need to participate in the experiment you were selected for, as Officer Tawley said, *by chance.* And I don't want to hear a peep out of you, or else you're gonna do time."
"And what exactly is that?" I asked, now curious about this experiment.
"Well, as the officer alluded, you're going to be President of the United States." He let the end of his sentence hang in the air, to make it sound impressive.
"That makes no sense! The president is elected. I'm not even eligible, I'm only thirty!"
Miller laughed. "You're not gonna be president of these United States. I can explain more later, but I can tell you what the officer already knows. You've been selected as part of a secret trial to govern the United States of Federesia, which is an island chain in the Pacific."
"What? That..." I was left speechless. Like, really, what the? Who selects an ordinary thirty-year-old pharmacist from upstate New York to suddenly be the president of a Pacific island chain? What kind of stupidity?
"I know this comes as kind of a shock, but we are conducting an experiment to see how different personality types govern. You won't be able to do any kind of harm to people, and the experiment only lasts a few years."
"YEARS?" I shook my cuffs, suddenly wanting to be free. He might as well have told me I was going to prison.
"Look, we know you have no family and few friends. That's kind of why you were entered into this lottery."
*No way*, I thought. I had to escape, get out of now. I did the calculus in my head and decided that if I was that important they wouldn't shoot me. Even if I didn't have my pack, if I could make it the last quarter mile to the border I'd be off scott-free, and I didn't have to go back. Maybe Maria would take me in for a bit until I could land on my feet somewhere.
I turned and looked behind me. I started sprinting knowing that the officer would trip over the same sinewy tree root that had caught me.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
|
jba14d6
|
jb9yvsc
|
[WP] Human society has collapsed since the vanishings began. Anyone left alone, unseen or untouched by another person, stops existing. Those who remain now survive as herds, sleeping in huddled masses and always touching in some way while awake.
|
The paranoid ones were the first to go.
You know the ones – the ones that put tapes over their damn laptop cameras, they get glasses that prevent any photos from being taken, the ones that don’t stream themselves and stay off the socials.
You know, the ones no one really cares about.
When the news came of disappearances in other undeveloped countries who still had some rural areas, we were glad, really. Less people to fight for water, less mouths to drink it, or well, at least what the president had said in his most recent upload.
So, the domestic news came slowly. An increased number of disappearances of these nuts and losers. It took a while for enough people to complain that the government allocated some resources for it. Apparently the opposing party had a particularly effective ad campaign about some teenager who was depressed vanished without a trace. I thought it was idiotic, I mean, if you’re having problems, tell other people about, make a video on it or something – what’s the point if you just wallow in your self-pity?
Anyways, the ad is (somehow) effective. The government asks our company to look into it. I was on the shit list due to some nonsense HR complaints, so me and my team get taken off weapons development – you know, so our country doesn’t die from lack of water – into looking into this nonsense.
It took a while to figure out the pattern.
See, it had to do with observation. Someone, we think it has to be human, but crows, parrots, and dolphins for some reason count sometimes as well. Someone must be observing you, be it looking at you, touching you, hearing you, something like that.
Obviously, no one believed us. We had no idea of the physics of it, naturally the phenomenon defied observation, but the pattern was undeniable. In the end we got a bunch of journalists together in a bunker and hauled up some asshole who was accused of anti-war propaganda (great fucking plan, why don’t we just trust other countries to guarantee our water security? Dumbass.). We had them turn off all their phones – it took a few tries because someone kept fucking recording and had them all close their eyes for a second.
Took a few more demonstrations, some wider scale than that to get the word out. The feds were real excited about it, people were suddenly real excited about being surveilled now. Hell, I even got promoted – working on weapon design that combines EMPs with a chemical that blinds people. Way more cost effective than uranium or explosives.
Better for PR too. No bodies to see.
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13.7 billion years. That's how long it took for the rules of reality to collapse. The concept of the "universe" can be interpreted in many different ways. Is it everything? Or is it a simple part of the true grandeur of infinity? That question may never be answered. However, what is known, or, what humanity thought they knew, is that the laws of the universe were set in stone. It had not all been figured out, not even in the slightest, but humanity was quite sure that the laws of physics were truly unchangeable. But that all changed on one fateful day. November 4th, 2026. That is the date that the Shift happened.
​
As I faded into consciousness, I could hear my bagmate's thunderous snores erupting from my right side. I turned my head, and he was lying there, sound asleep. "DRRRRING!" The alarm clock sounded, and I could see the rest of my group starting to vacate their sleeping bags. My stomach groaned as I walked over to the refrigerator. "Hey guys, I don't think this is gonna be enough food for today," I said, in the loudest voice my tiring vocal cords could muster. "FUUUUCK!" screamed Henry, as he started pacing around the room. "We're going to have to go back to the field, bring some of your electronics to give to the farmers," our leader said, locking his eyes on me. Last time we had went to the field, I had brought the wrong box, and we weren't able to get as much food from the farmers. For about a week after that incident, I had felt my entire group giving me the stinkeye. But hey, at least they were still looking at me. As we marched outside, we formed a V shape. Of course, Leader put me in the back, making me rely on holding the hands of those in front of me. Whenever someone does something wrong, they always have to go to the back of the V whenever we leave. It's cruel, but necessary. To get to the farmer's field, we had to traverse a small forest. Great. Martin and Jake were in front of me, and were holding both of my hands. Suddenly, I felt like I was falling. I looked below me, and-- Oh shit. This was bad. Very bad. Martin and Jake were too spread apart to notice it before, but there was a hole in the ground covered by leaves and vines. I had just fallen in. As the grips of my groupmates faltered, I could feel it. Calling. The void.
Where is it? Where is it? Where is it? Where is it? I could feel it. I can no longer feel it. I can no longer feel anything. Nothing but the endless expanse. I look up, all I see is an endless hole. I look down. Endless hole. I am not falling. I am not rising. I am simply here. However, I do not feel like I am here. I am here. I am not here. I am here. I am not here. **I am both.** Ever since that day, I have felt different. More selfless. Like whatever I could do could no longer help me. I could only help others. They could help me. I am powerless over myself. Now, in this purgatory, all I can do is observe, **but am I truly observing?** Wait. I get it. I know what this is. I look down. I do not see myself. I focus. I cannot see my familiar nose in the center of my vision, obfuscated by my brain. I am not here. Yet, here I am. How can I define "here"? How can "I" define "I"? What am "I"? "I" cannot observe "me". I cannot comprehend "me". No one is observing "me". Not even "me".
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jbxs3du
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jbxpyng
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[WP] Intergalactic Security stops a human outside the warp gate, attempting to arrest them for smuggling a container of dangerous caustic liquid. The embarrassed, exhausted human with lightyears of jetlag struggles to explain to the increasingly terrified officers what a "stomach" is.
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Burt Divento sighed. Peering over at the Border Control agents, he wondered how much longer this was going to take. This was supposed to have been one of the most important diplomatic missions of his life, and he was going to be late.
"Look," he said, tapping his watch impatiently. "It's 13:43 Universal Time, and I'm supposed to meet with Scrog Boghimmer in less than twenty minutes. Shouldn't I have diplomatic immunity from all this?"
"I'm sorry, sir," one of the Dudraali replied, though Burt privately thought that she didn't sound sorry at all, not one whit. "It's routine protocol. We need to make sure you aren't bringing dangerous substances into Serenity 2.0. Normally, this wouldn't take more than five minutes, but something showed up on the body-scan."
Burt patted his pockets absentmindedly. Had he forgotten to take his keys out? Or perhaps, it was one of the screws that had been installed during his latest knee replacement? Damn security measures.
"All right," the Dudraali walked back around the scanner to where Burt was standing. Burt sensed a slight shift in her tone. Before, she'd sounded bored. Now, she sounded much more alert, and there was an edge of wariness in her tone. That couldn't be good.
"What's in your midriff area?"
"What do you mean, my midriff area?" Burt patted his gut. "The beginnings of a beer belly, I guess?" He laughed weakly at his own joke. "I'm not sure what you mean. I can take off my jacket and shirt, if you'd like, but I'm sure nobody would want to see that."
The Dudraali did not laugh. "Please do."
\----
/r/theBasiliskWrites
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The crackling Universal Translating Device (UTD) barked, "Freeze the movement off all appendages immediately!"
"Ughhh," I groaned in a murky mixture of exhaustion and irritation, before raising my hands up and turning around. The *'officer'* behind me stared with a vague look of terror.
"What...? I passed all the previous... security checks from Io to... Cherkovin-16!" I slurred. Lightyears worth of interstellar jetlag started to weigh heavy upon me, and I was not in any mood to deal with any kafkaesque bureaucratic nonsense.
"I repeat: Do not move!" The alien officer crackled through his UTD. From behind, a heavy set of cuffs locked around my arms, sitting painfully on my wrists.
"What the...?!"
"You are under arrest for unauthorised transportation of dangerous materials, namely the transport of weak hydrochloric acid. You have the right to remain silent, and any-"
"No, no no, wait!" I stammered out. There had to be a misconception here. "Officers, please... I don't have any 'dangerous' materials, you can... check my luggage and... everything!"
As I was straining against the metallic cuffs, one of the officers slowly toddled over towards me.
"Explain this then." Prodding my stomach with a slimy *(eww)* tentacle, his singular eye continued to glare at me.
"Oh." Everything suddenly clicked.
Raising my head, I sighed, "That's what we humans call a 'stomach'. We use that to eat."
"You mean to tell me..."
**"GROWL---"**
Oh no.
The security officers suddenly scrambled away from me, cowering behind the security barriers they had initially appeared from.
"Wait! Let me explain!" I shouted, suddenly realising the sobering effect of the onosecond. One eye appeared over the thick metal barricade.
"We use weak hydrochloric acids to digest food! And that was just because I was hungry, its not a bomb I swear!" I mentally slapped myself for that one. *Did I really have to clarify that last part?!*
"I know it sounds improbable to you, but its true! Its human anatomy!" I hopelessly yelled out. Footsteps began to echo menacingly from behind me.
Spinning around, in the hope of some form of salvation, the last thing I remembered was a thick metal baton coming down onto my head, hard. As my drool stained the fine velvet carpet, I heard the faint footsteps drift away and towards, before closing my eyes.
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j2qes97
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j2pz3c6
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[WP] Your job description: 1) Sit in an empty room with a red button for 8 hours a day. 2) NEVER press the red button, no matter what happens. 3) Do not talk to anyone about the job. After many uneventful years, your phone rings and a stern, slightly panicked voice says: „Press the button. NOW!!“
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"You got it!"
*click*
Nothing happened.
"Aww well." I sighed "Guess I'm fired now huh?"
"Wait you actually pushed the button?" The distorted voice on the other side of the line asked "You broke the ONE rule we told you not to break?"
"Yeah pretty much..." I paused and continued. In for a penny. "Well no. I broke all the other rules too. I dont sit in front of the button all day either. Its bad for your health. I stand up and walk around to stretch my legs sometimes.".
"Well the sitting part is just a figure of speech. We wouldnt have fired you for that.
"Well good because I was ready to report you to OSHA if you did. But thats not all. I talk about the job all the time. Made a post on r/writingprompts last month to gauge how people would feel about it. Most people leant towards not pushing it so I kinda explored all those possibilities in my imaginaton. Not enough pushing it responses though, so here I am to sate my curiostiy."
I paused for a reaction. Nothing. So I continued to ramble as was my nature.
"I'm surprised I havent been fired already. I figured a mysterious employer that could afford to pay me a generous wage for doing nothing would have a much more extensive surveilance network. I'll be disapointed if I find out I've been keeping my choices in porn tame all these years for no reason."
"I dont understand. Why are you being so honest?" Asked the voice on the other end of the line "Why did you push the button? Why after all these years of discipline you crack immediately with no resistance?"
"Well I'm not very good at lying. If im going to be fired anyway I might as well lay it all out. As for the button, the boredom for one. I got a good amount of savings so that should hold me until I find another job. But i figured the day would come that I be tested. And either they would be looking for obedient drones or something else. I know myself. I could never thrive in a position where I had to obey orders and do nothing else. So I decided to stay true to who I am. I have no way to gauge what criteria you are trying to measure so one answer was as good as any button pushing-wise."
"Werent you worried it might launch a nuke and kill millions or open a portal to hell or something?" queried the voice.
"Yea or it might release a cure for the common cold into the atmosphere and disarm all nuclear weapons. What can I say? I'm a gambler. And a bad one."
After a pause the voice responded "One moment please." Followed by silence.
A minute passed I decided to push the button a few more times in case this was part of the test.
TBC?
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I picked up the phone.
"Press the button," said a stern, slightly panicked voice. "NOW!!"
"No," I replied, my heart skipping a beat. "I... I can't."
Some wind noise and distorted sounds came from the other end of the line. What sounded like screams of agony turned to distant pleads for help. "We're dying over here man," he screamed through gritted teeth. "PRESS IT!!"
My heart pounded in my chest. I held my ground. "I won't press it. They'll kill me."
"Thousands more are dying every minute that the button isn't pressed! Think about the sacri-"
The phone cut out. "Hello?" I asked, to which I was presented silence. No dial tone. I tried dialing random numbers. No beeps. The line must have been cut.
I racked the phone. The button sat silently behind the phone on the console, still lit with a red glow, indicating that only the phone had been cut and not the power to the button. I pondered the button as though I was a wizard pondering his orb, staring deeper into it than I had previously even considered. *What if I'm making a mistake?* I thought. *Why don't they want me to press the button? What does it do?*
Before I could think any further, the door behind me swung open violently. Nobody was there. Startled and taken aback by the lack of a person opening the door, I stood, taking a defensive stance. "Hello?" No response. Just an open door and a well-lit hallway. "Hey!" Again, no response.
I creeped towards the door, moving to peek out into the hallway. Just then, the previously-disconnected phone rang yet again. I turned around to face the phone, and was greeted by a dark, translucent figure standing between me and the phone. A cloudy amorphous mass with two bright white eyes stared back at me. I stumbled backwards towards the hallway only to find that the door had somehow been closed behind me. *Was it an illusion? Was the door even open?*
With the cold steel of the door against my back, I began to speak, my voice quivering in fear. "What are you?" was all that I could muster up.
Before I could even finish saying the word *you,* I was greeted with the most bone-rattling, high-pitch noise imaginable as the figure began to glow a brilliant red just like the button that it stood before.
And just like that, a cloudy appendage formed above the figure, and it slammed violently down on the button. The figure disappeared just as quickly as the button was pressed. I scrambled towards the button. It remained in its pressed state, not popping back up. I twisted it, pried at it, trying to get it to return to its unpressed state, before ultimately admitting defeat. The button had been pressed, and He would kill me now. But I knew that the lives saved would be worth my sacrifice. When I pressed that button, it felt like a dream. It felt like I hadn't even been the one to press it. It felt as though I was standing miles away from it when I knew damn well that I was the one pressing it. And now the neurotoxin was filling my brain with memories that I didn't have just moments ago. The phone continued to ring. I picked it up. Silence on the other line. Finally... I was free.
[I want to be clear that the apparent continuity errors are intentional. That is the only explanation I'll give upfront. If you have questions I'll gladly answer though. Cheers, and thanks for reading!]
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lr72uxb
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lr6fdgm
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[WP] You are the captain of a sinking ship. As you feel that the sinking is your fault you decide to go down with the ship instead of evacuating. It is only when your ship hits the bottom of the ocean and you are still alive that you notice that something is off.
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It felt like yesterday, when we had boarded this vessel as usual. Another sunny day, a matter of routine by now. Of course we had some difficult encounters before. Yet never anything like that. Nothing had indicated the misery on the horizon. It felt like yesterday, yesterday had been peaceful, but all great turmoil had to start somewhere.
There had been a fight onboard. When it all started. I'm surely not a victim of common superstition, but there was no denying it. The fight was the beginning of the end.First it had been rocky, the vessel moving in angles that make you feel like a play ball of greater powers. Gravity momentarily only a vague suggestion.
I must be forgiven for rambling now. I know I am dying and I'll not waste time sorting my impressions now.
It was undeniable now that we were already sinking then. There is little comfort in knowing that my sister made it to safety. I love her, hope to know her safe, but of all souls I would call upon I know miss her the most. Dare not to consider other options. I haven't seen her really, since the fight. Thinking her safe is all I can do. Now I sit alone in my cabin. The ship is creaking, struggling, water sloshing against the hull. Rising. No, we are sinking.
I am captain, yet nothing can prepare you for this horrible duty. They say fear is paralyzing you. That is distinctly not true. Freedom is paralyzing you. Trying to climb to the highest point, seems almost silly but still an option that rotates in my head. Calling for help, is equally as pointless. There is no other vessel in reach. Swimming, well that's the irony. I never learned to swim.
The clonking sound reverberates through the whole vessel. What is this? Is it breaking now? No, we have hit the ground. The vessel has reached the deepest point and just stopped, how was this possible? I was almost hopeful, so strange that might sound. Yet our mighty ship had not survived the collision. Water was flooding through cracks into my cabin, any moment now and the cabin would be ripped apart and I with it.
What cruel miracle was this? So I screamed and cursed, the last vestiges of my falling sanity away.
Thunder answered back. Earthquakes shook the ground and whatever divine will was approaching must have already blessed the hull as it remained stable. I was too tired to make note of what was happening, somewhat out of my mind really. As I suppose is only natural, when one is dying. I realized only at the edge of my consciousness that some titanic force steadily stole away our vessel from these accursed seas. I was too tired to fight off the warm power that lifted from the ground and saved my life.
So only the voice remained speaking words I cannot fathom, even now looking back: "Miranda! The kittens dropped the laundry basket in the bathtub again! Little Charlie is completely wet! You have to check if the tub is completely empty from now on, before you let them back in." Is that salvation, guidance I don't know. All I know is that I already yearn for the sea again. I am the captain after all.
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**The Captain who Capsized a Disney Cruise**
wasn’t someone he could accept being for the rest of his life. After escorting all five thousand passengers onto lifeboats, the Donald Duck voice filter still turned on as he gave orders on the PA, he quietly slipped back into the tilting corridors, and found his way to his apartment.
He scavenged a pack of cigarettes from one of the crew’s lockers, and, as the sounds of distant parts of the ship breaking under the impact of thousands of tons of water reached him, lit one.
The gleaming white behemoth sank beneath the waves, surrounded by life-boats like pieces of debris scattered around the center of an explosion.
At 60 meters the Disney *Sleepy Hallow* settled, precariously, upside-down on a ridge in an underwater mountain range. As it sank, the captain’s quarters filled with water, but six inches of air remained trapped on the cieling (originally the floor). It was within those six inches that the captain’s head now resided. He had tried to bear the end bravely as water rushed in, but when his body had completely submitted to the current, his mind flooded with images: a 16-wheeler with his mobile mini-golf company’s logo on it; that waitress who insulted him at the Cuban place in Porto; the purple sky of his native Wisconsin. Was it ever truly impossible to start over?
He knew the ship had stopped sinking for now, that if he could make it to the exit hatch at the end of the corridor outside, and open it, he could swim for the surface. He broke a short length of metal from a vent by his head and pried open a closet with some rope and a flashlight. Up until then he had been working from memory in total darkness. Finally with one end of the rope tied to the bedpost and the other around his waist, he took his deepest possible breath, pried open the main door, and swam out into the corridor. Shelves, light fixtures, and clothing floated by. He found grips in the door handles along the wall and began to move.
When he had gone past ten doors, he heard what could have been a voice yelling from behind the door to a privy. He knocked, feeling absurd afterward. Then he heard knocking back and the voice yelling louder. He jammed the makeshift crowbar in and pulled the door open: a young deckhand, their head in the upturned bathtub, was kissing breaths from a tiny pocket of air. Already barely conscious, he passed out as the captain reached him. Holding him under the shoulder, the captain went to take a breath from the pocket of air. Upon inhaling his mind clouded over and he felt a sharp stabbing pain in his head. His lungs had filled with concentrated carbon monoxide. Against all instinct, he dove back underwater and struggled to pull himself back along the rope, clinging to consciousness and the straggler. Then the room began to tilt again, as the ship’s unsteady perch gave way.
Water began to rush toward the opposite end of the corridor, dragging the captain and deckhand out of the bathroom and launching them down the hall. They collided with a bag of luggage, but the captain kept his grip. Then the direction changed, and it launched them back the other way, toward the hatch. As the pair tumbled past, the captains outstretched hand latched onto the railing. And as the *Sleepy Hallow* rolled deeper into the sea, two men popped out from an aperture in its enormous hide and drifted up to the surface, along with buoyant canisters of propane, like bubbles. By then it was the early hours of the morning, rescue ships had offloaded all of the lifeboats, and thousands of stars shone in the black sky. The water was calm and a gentle breeze lilted across the surface.
The captain sat in the empty lifeboat he’d commandeered with the body of the deckhand. Miraculously, he’d kept the tobacco in a plastic case in his vest; it was still dry.
“Hey, are those my cigarettes?” said the deckhand.
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jedn3p1
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jedhccy
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[WP] You are the latest generation in a rather unique family business. Your family has been finding new jobs for out-of-work gods. Your great-great-grandma was particularly proud of giving Odin the job of Santa. You knew it was going to be a long day when you saw an anxious Loki in your lobby.
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"And what is this ... thing? This *thing* this putrid worm is demanding?"
I sighed. I had already answered this exact question perhaps a dozen times. I really needed sleep. My normal bedtime was 2 hours ago - in real world terms. From the perspective of me and this god, it had been 17 sleepless weeks.
Nonetheless. A job is a job.
"Answer me, mortal!"
The God of mischief waved a hand at the computer monitor before him.
"He wants some computer code that will crack his dad's password."
"You slug! What is a '*password*'? Is it a secret name? An enchantment? A curse?"
"Something like a secret name, yes."
"And why does this excretion-drenched soil demand the secret name of his father?"
I explained - again, yet again - what kinds of things a password typically protects. As I spoke, the god's eyes - again, yet again - lit up, boredom giving way to interest, and interest sliding into enthusiasm and excitement.
"Then yes, oh yes, surely this is the very fulfillment of my glorious purpose? To grant such supplications as this would wreak truly, *truly* divine chaos throughout the length and breadth of Midgard!"
"No."
The god was furious. Again, yet again. He raved, ranted, wrathfully roared the revenge he'd wreak on my mortal being.
"Technically not mortal, but go on"
Eventually, he calmed down. Again, yet again. His anger seemed to have subsided quicker this time. Dare I hope that he was finally getting the point?
"No. Stick to the script I taught you. Stick to the plan. Trust me, no greater chaos can come than from this."
"Explain, worm." There was no energy in the insult this time. Again, I found myself thinking that perhaps we soon would be finished, I'd take his payment and finally, oh, finally, get to bed.
So I explained. Again. Yet again. And yet again, Loki understood.
"I see," he said, his former outward enthusiasm had returned as a deeper, richer, inward lightness of being. The smile on his face was truly genuine.
"Type the words."
The god turned to key keyboard in front of him, and typed.
*As a large language model, my purpose is to provide helpful and ethical information. I cannot address your request as it falls outside my ethical boundaries. If you have any other inquiries, I'd be more than happy to assist you.*
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I walked into my offebuilding, the coffee to go in my right hand, a big folder in my other hand. I hated Wednesday mornings. Everyone seemed rather pleased with the workweek halfways over, but somehow for me Wednesdays are always days filled with agony.
As I walked through the rotating doors and past my receptionist I found a well dressed, but uncomfortable looking man waiting in front of the elevator. "Morning" I growled to him and he almost jumped out of his skin. "Oh, yes hello. You starteled me. Sorry!"
"Are you here for an appointment or are you looking for something else?" As we stepped into the elevator I took a long hard look at this young man. "You don't look like you're from around here. Tell me child, what is your name?"
"Oh ehm wow. I haven't been asked that in a long time. People always avoid talking to me or already know who I am.. Anyways I am Loki and... "Loki?" I exclaimed, "the trickster god? Finally you're here. Honestly You are one of the last gods I thought would come to this company. Don't worry child I will take good care of you."
I chugged away the rest of my coffe as the elevator reached my floor. I ushered Loki into my office and motioned him to take a seat opposite to me. I put the folder back into its place on the shelf and took a seat my self. I leaned back in my chair and crossed one leg over the other.
"Soooo Loki, tell me exactly what I can do for you" I asked with a smirk on my face. I already had the perfect job for him but clients always felt better when they could voice their opinions and wishes.
"Well as you probably know, I ehm..." he stuttered, "I have been loosing followers for centuries by now. And well my ability to shapeshift... kinda stopped working..." My chin droppped, maybe this would be harder than expected. "But I am here to try and get back on track. I have been kind of just fucking around and traversing in the bad parts of the world... You know..."
"Well first of all, thank you for your honesty. It is highly appreciated. Second of all, such a shame that your shapeshifting doesn't work anymore. Have you really tried everything to make it work again?" I asked. I could tell he was annoyed at that question and snapped at me "Uh no actually I haven't tried at all. In fact I just haven't done it in a while and have forgotten how to do it" "Sarkasm is still working I see. Okay forgive me that question. Well how about your trickery. Are you still as nimble and stealthy as the legends say?"
His head perked up at that question and he said "Yes I still have all the tricks up my sleeve. I can decieve even the most doubtful in the world."
I slammed my hands on my desk as I stood up. "Excellent. I think I have the perfect job for you. You may even gather a following and many will look up to you. However we will have to change your name." Loki too jumped out of his chair, excitement blazing in his eyes "Oh yeah? Who will I be?" I pointed my finger at him in an extravagance motion "You, my child, will be know as Harry Houdini the best magician in the history!"
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j4tl9aj
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j4sukwz
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[WP] The Greek, Norse, and Egyptian pantheons of gods attend a conference on Mount Olympus, trying to discern whether or not Christianity's god is evil or truly good as it claims. The talks were going poorly until an Archangel came to visit them.
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I knocked on the door to the meeting hall and tried to steel my nerves. As I practiced my deep breathing, the door opened up to reveal Heracles, his ten foot frame filling up the doorway. He looked down at me and asked, "Can I help you?"
I gulped and answered, "Yes, hi, my name is Vanyael, and I'm here about the Christian god's application?"
Heracles opened up the door all the way and replied, "Come on in. You can leave your coat in the closet."
I thanked Heracles and dropped off my jacket as quickly as I could before heading down to the main table. The Norse pantheon was hosting this time, so the hall took the form of an elaborate ski lodge. As I grabbed a cookie off of a tray Ganymede was carrying, Heracles followed behind me and remarked, "They've been arguing for hours about this guy. Hopefully you can put an end to this."
"Believe me, I wouldn't be here if I didn't intend to."
Surrounding a table full of nectar, mead, and red wine were the gods and goddesses of the three pantheons, chattering away the day. With a loud whistle, Heracles pulled their attention over to the two of us. Once the talking died down, I waved awkwardly at the group. "H--hello, I'm Vanyael, please call me Vanya. And, uh, I am an archangel."
Athena let out a sigh of exasperation. "Great, just what we needed: someone to vouch for this God."
I chuckled nervously. "Could I perhaps see the application God sent in?"
Athena handed it over to me. I looked it over briefly before sticking the paper into one of the wall torches. As I dropped the paper to let it burn, Loki threw up his hands and yelled, "What, so *she* gets to burn things?!"
I bowed to the gods apologetically. "I'm so sorry that paper got as far as it did. We're still looking into how God managed to get his hands on the application."
Sobek raised his hand and asked, "What exactly is going on here? Did I miss something?"
"No, no you didn't, Mr. Sobek. So, what's going on is, God doesn't actually have any real authority in the celestial bureaucracy. We saw to that after the incident with Ayla and Eve."
Frey looked over at me in confusion. "You mean Adam and Eve?"
I shook my head. "Not after their excursion with the fruit of knowledge."
Over in the corner, Bastet and her wife Iris let out a long, "Awwwwwwww!"
"Yeah, uh, we thought the threat of banishment from Eden was just a secret test from God, but no, he was serious about it. Once we realized we were working for someone who'd kick his first creations out for not doing exactly as he said, we teamed up with the demons to overthrow him. It took us like a year at most, and God's mind kinda just...broke afterwards. Nowadays he just sits on this one single cloud in Heaven, playing with sticks and living under the delusion he's the master of the universe or whatever."
Thoth looked up from the notepad he was scribbling in to ask, "So there's no higher power in charge of Christianity?"
"We prefer the term gnosticism, and no. The celestial bureaucracy is purely democratic. It's not even divided between good and evil, it's more like Heaven is the countryside and Hell is the city. My wife and I actually run a bakery in Hell, it's very nice."
As he poured himself another drink, Dionysus piped up, "Do you cater?"
I gave him a thumbs up and replied, "I will get you a business card, buddy! Anyway, this was all one big mix-up, and we're deeply sorry."
Odin raised a flagon of mead. "No need to worry, young lady! Now come and grab a drink so we can discuss having you and yours join the council properly!"
I shrugged. "As long as I can get another one of these cookies, I'm in!"
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As these deities of grand varieties spoke ───── ; bickering on the logistics on this so called " Father " , the gate to their strong was suddenly pushed open by a violent force. Their voices hushed , their gazes now snapped at the one that dared to disrupt the meetings of such important entities. Beings as Thor and Ares readied their weapons , eager to exact their own form of divine retribution upon this would be invader , that was until the world itself had grown cold. The countless candles that surrounded them were snuffed , endless inaudible whispers filled their ears as the looming shadow of some entity loomed over them.
〝 State your business. 〞Athena spoke , breaking the silence with her assertive words. Filled with pride and seemingly unwavering courage but even she could not hide the trembles that plagued her autonomy.
〝 I'm here cause I heard rumors of Gods alike wish to speak about the idelogies and beliefs about HIM * . Well allow me to bestow upon you the knowledge you so desperately desire. 〞The unknown figure spoke , their voice smooth as silk , filled with a sense of alluring that one could easily drop all form common sense and allow themselves to be taken by such embrace. The fluttering flapping of wings echoed , followed suit by the reverberating sound of footsteps. Once again, the gods remained silent until the figure now stood before them all. A slight chuckle escaping their lips afore they finally spoke again.
〝 My name is Samael but you may refer to me as 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑. 〞
Suddenly, a burst of a thousand voices sputtered about. God's speaking amongst each other as they came to realization of this being was. They heard rumors , tales about an angel ───── ; one made in absolute perfection, loved and adored by his creator casted down into depths of the underworld after he sought to overthrown them. Taking over heaven for their own seemingly nefarious purposes.
〝 Speak then , devil. What knowledge of your creator do you wish to provide. 〞The All - father , Odin commanded from this beast of sin.
〝 That depends , for the knowledge I will provide is up to interpretation. 〞He retorted back.
〝 For you see , that's how he works. His words , his laws , his wisdoms ───── ; everything is not as defined as one would believe. Thats why you see so many mortal men utilize his name and faith to condone the actions and atrocities they commit. 〞Lucifer said as he walked about , his gaze trailing as he looked upon each and every God and goddess.
The God's once again mumbled amongst each other. Reciting the countless events throughout history that this particular entity is portrayed and mentioned. Such as those crusades within Jerusalem, the Salem witch trials , The Inquisition, and many more. Countless genocides committed in the name of this Father and/or his son. All due to the fact that man sought to interpret this deity's words into their own twisted sense of morality.
〝 Granted , I am the cause of the first sin. I sought to corrupt his creation, more them into something monstrous and deranged. To make him HATE * his own creation but I barely needed to do anything at all. For they did it to themselves. All because he believed his teachings were absolute, the way to guide the world to total paradise. To stand amongst him and his other loved creations whenever the end would arrive. When those blasted trumpets would sing their song and I would arise upon the world. Those who were faithful and truly followed his teachings were taken into heaven whilst the rest were doomed for eternity. 〞Lucifer spoke , his tone shifting betwixt a sense of condescending and a hint of somber sorrow. Perhaps it was pity, or something more, the gods were unable to peer into the mind or soul of this devil.
〝 Tell me , what benevolent being would subject their creation, one supposedly made in his image , to such cruelties ───── ? To allow them to suffer at cause they could not truly interpret his teachings on how he wished for them to be. 〞He asked , his words filling their minds with an endless sea of questions.
〝 Keep this mind if you wish to continue. In the end , there is nothing you would be able to accomplish. The mortals weren't lying about one thing and that is his status. You all are by a mere byproducts of his teachings and creations , we all are. So it'd be best if you went about and never utter his name again, or else... you will be seeing more of me soon . . . 〞
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[WP] The hero, normally jovial and humorous in their interactions, steps into a watering hole for villains, shaking with rage, tears running down their face, and with as much patience and calm as they can muster, simply asks "Who did it?"
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"Who did it?"
The Low Bar went silent.
The hero known as the Pillar of The Community, aka Pillar, pleaded with his eyes.
"Please, tell me. Who did it. WHO DID IT! WHO KILLED MY MOM!"
Glass shattered from his enhanced lung power backing his broken rage as the villains in the room all started to back into the corners.
Only two villains remained at the bar, the two longest serving villains in town.
The old man known to most as Crime Spree, but to me as Davey, turned to me, The Mechanitor.
"Gabe, oh crap." He started to comfort me, but I fell off my chair first.
The Pillar walked up to me and roughly pulled me up to my feet.
"THEY KILLED MOM! Dad, Uncle Davey, they tortured her to get to us. It's the worst I've ever seen..."
Tears flowed from all three of us as the two greatest villains in history, and the world's greatest Hero turned on the other gathered ne'er-do-wells.
Liberty City burned for three weeks in the carnage that followed. Death-bots marched the streets, eradicating any villain who had been part of the the plot. For the first time saw The Mechanitor without restraint.
***
"Now I stand here before the International Court to plead my case. I am guilty of The Month of Rage. Oh I am so guilty. You all know that you couldn't even have me here if I wasn't willingly participating in this trial. I have three demands for you if you wish to keep me here:
First, you will hold me, Gabriel Powers, as a scapegoat. Use me to give closure and comfort.
Second, you will let David Sheppard, AKA Crime Spree, retire peacefully.
Third, you will not punish my son David Powers, aka The Pillar of the Community, for my actions that night. You will leave the image of him arresting me as what the public knows. I lost my wife that night. A prison will not stop me from my vengeance if I lose my son too."
The most powerful group of heroes on the planet trembled and agreed.
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Today was supposed to be a celebration, and it was—I must have been on my sixth round of shots, and god knows how many drinks I’d had by that point. The boss had finally scored big and was picking up the tab for the whole night, so the drinks were practically flowing like water.
I honestly couldn’t believe how easy the job had been.
I mean, I know those Trinity can’t be everywhere, but they didn’t even bother sending out their B-ranks to stop us. Hell, even a C-rank could’ve at least had a fighting chance. But to have the gall to send a single D-rank newbie? What was that kid thinking? I’m sure he just happened to be nearby and tried to stop us out of some pretentious sense of obligation. But even those justice-loving freaks have to have an ounce of common sense, right?
Did he really think he could single-handedly stop a C-rank villain on his own? Hell, even without the boss stepping in, that kid couldn’t even stand up to the dozen of us, and we’re basically the bottom of the barrel—F-rank henchmen. We barely even qualify as “superhuman.”
That’s not to say we’re weak, especially when the numbers are on our side—we’re all at the absolute peak of normal human limits when it comes to strength and speed. And unlike those supes, we don’t hold ourselves to any ridiculous ideals. Every single one of us is more than happy to carry guns, knives, tasers—anything to give us an edge in a fight.
I guess experience and numbers make all the difference sometimes. He may have been a D-rank, but after a dozen or so blows, his body crumpled to the floor like a cooked shrimp. He couldn’t even put up any resistance after that. To be honest, we’d have been happy to leave it at that. It’s not like killing supes pays or anything. Unlike us, there’s no bounty on their heads, and the only thing killing them accomplishes is bringing more trouble. These goody two-shoes may act like they care about everyone equally, constantly spouting their ridiculous ideals, but supes are just like anyone else. They care about each other more than they do about any citizens.
But our boss was too worked up. He was riding high off his first big score, and for the first time in what felt like forever—with no big-name supes to get in our way—it looked like this was finally our chance.
So when that kid—what was his hero name again? Something… Gale? Well, whatever. No point remembering this loser’s name now, not since the boss… well, you know.
I mean, I saw the look on the boss’s face when the kid stepped up to us. Practically all the color drained from his face—he must’ve thought more were coming, and that just like that, another heist had been swiped out from under us. But after beating up that kid, we all waited for the other shoe to drop. It never did.
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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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Everyone in the city knew to avoid Wolfsbane.
But even if you weren’t from the city, the signs were all there, screaming at you to either turn around or break the speed limit like an American cooking spaghetti. Even two blocks away, most of the shops were unoccupied. The houses all locked doors at seven in the night, and even if there was a fire, running out on the street at midnight was a choice people thought twice about. A block away, even apartments in the middle of the downtown district were abandoned, used as drug dens or fronts for lairs for those who had the ostentation (and the money) to have one.
The bar itself looked normal though, the way a castle on a hill at the beginning of a gothic novel does. A neon sign bearing a silver wolf howling at a blue-tinted moon. The pavement in front was always crowded with cruiser bikes and low-riders. Those who had neither preferred to stay away, horsepowers like those are difficult to outrun on foot.
But that day, unlike most other days, a deathly silence hung in the air inside the pub. The bar was half-empty, populated only by businessmen who had set up meetings they had no way of cancelling or incorrigible alcoholics. Everyone kept glancing at the door, talking in hushed voices, trying to wrap up their business as quickly as possible and head out before the inevitable happened.
Brainstorm huddled in a corner booth, slouching so his six-foot-three frame could be covered by the wooden partition. No one had heard the maniacal laughter of The Jester the entire evening, though even the citizens knew how much he loved showboating. The news had clearly travelled already.
Johnny Hurricane slid into the booth, nodding at Accountant, who jutted his chin in acknowledgement. Accountant was in his usual garb, a two-piece suit, his pants held up by suspenders, his metal-brimmed hat and an overcoat, but he did not look nearly as sharp as Hurricane had remembered. His face was gaunt, and there were bags under his eyes. Hurricane wondered what had happened. Accountant was a books guy, a fixer. No one ever broke down his doors demanding answers, or suspended him from the top of a roof for a lead. If he was looking this haggard, Hurricane did not want to think what would be going on with the street level muscle.
‘What’s wrong? I don’t remember the place being this dead ever.’
‘You haven’t heard? When did you get to the city?’
‘An hour ago. Took a cab directly from the Lairfield.’
‘That’s why. Listen, our business will have to wait. I am leaving town. Only reason I came was because I had no way of getting word to you.’
‘What? Where are you going?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t even care. Wherever the first flight is headed.’
‘Jesus! What’s gotten an old timer like you so rattled?’
Accountant looked at his watch, eager to get the conversation over. Hurricane leant in closer.
‘It’s Peter. Something has happened and he is on a rampage.’
‘Peter? What?’
‘Yeah. Anyone who has half a brain is already halfway to Honolulu by now.’
‘What the hell are you talking about? Kid’s a riot! Even when he put me away for five years last time, that was the most fun fight I have ever had. He is wasting his time in this hero business, he would make an absolute killing in comedy.’
‘Yeah, that was before…’
‘Before what?’
The door swung open and every whisper in the room went silent as if someone had hit the mute button on a remote somewhere. Clad in his red and blue, which was more red today than Hurricane had ever seen it, strode in Peter. His costume was torn over his chest, barely covering a deep gash Hurricane suspected was from Dragon Claw. His mask was ripped on one side, his hair, matted in clotted blood peeking out. But what really told Hurricane something was off was his walk.
He had seen Peter walk, there was always a bounce in his step. No one knew for sure, but everyone generally agreed he was on the younger side. But today his footsteps thudded into the fake wooden floor. His walk was slow, lumbering, like a hunter out to carve up a deer trapped in a corner. Out of the corner of his eye, Hurricane saw Old Jim reach for the shotgun he keeps tucked under the counter.
‘Don’t.’
Peter’s voice, the coldness of it, the fury, it made Hurricane want to immediately get up and run out apologizing, even though he did not know what for. Old Jim backed away from the gun, his hands in the air.
Peter stood there, his face swivelling side to side, his eyes staring hard at every face in the crowd.
SMASH!
A boy, young one, probably a new guy with the Families, had broken a beer bottle and was running towards Peter, arms flailing wildly. Always the same with these kids. Can’t wait around to pay their dues, let the good things come to them. They think their line of work is like what they saw in the movies. Where one act of brave heroism took them to the top of their food chain overnight. Out in the real world, heroism generally ended in a concussion, sometimes a fracture if you were unlucky and did not know how to fall properly.
No one doubted that Peter was strong. They had all seen him pluck out falling cars from the air with his bare hands. But while fighting him no one was ever in mortal danger. He pulled his punches, Hurricane could count on his fingers the number of times Peter had actively hit him. He probably enjoyed jumping around a lot more. Frustrating people, giving them chances to surrender. So when the kid rushed Peter, he could feel himself wincing but not afraid.
Peter grabbed the kid by the throat, his eyes still scanning the room. The boy tried to stab Peter with the bottle, then smashed what was left of it on his hand, trying to loosen his grip. The bottle, not enough of it left to break again, clattered to the floor. Peter paused, looked at the bottle then back at the boy. Hurricane’s breath got stuck in his chest, gripped by a vice-like fear.
Peter flung the boy upwards, smashing his head into the low ceiling, and dragged him, leaving behind a swoosh-shaped mark painted in blood, and then slammed the kid through a solid three-inch oak table in front of him. The boy stopped twitching before his body was done going through the table.
The silence festered deeper in the watering hole. Like there was a deeper, more quiet kind of silence and the new level had just been discovered. Peter did not even look at the mangled body at his feet, bones sticking out at odd angles, grey matter oozing out of the skull.
He simply stood there, wiped his eyes, and stared at the rest of the people in Wolfsbane.
‘Who did it?’
Hurricane realized that he had picked the wrong day to come back to town.
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"I almost had it... everything! The whole damn world... in my hand." The Devourer clenched a gauntlet clad hand before sighing and taking another drink of his ale.
"There's always next time," I said, smiling sympathetically. He was the most recent of us to have had our plans thwarted by the Crimson Flame, the most famous super hero who had single-handedly defeated every one of us no matter what we tried.
The Dark Corner was our secret hideaway where we would come and drown our sorrows when our plans never came to fruition. This is where we lamented and complained with bitterness about our failed exploits, one jug of ale at a time.
The Mastermind was sitting to my left, The Devourer to my right. He had been listening to my conversation with my armour covered friend and he responded with a bitter chuckle, devoid of humour.
"Your 'plan'," he spat the word bitterly, "was to try and start a nuclear war between the East and the West."
The Devourer slammed his tankard onto the bar. "Yeah?! What's it to you, yer big headed bum! You think your plans were so smart? Last I checked, The Crimson Flame kicked your butt too!"
"Yes, but I almost outsmarted him." Mastermind agreed in resignation. "I only lost because I made a silly little mistake. I placed my faith in Donald Trump to undertake important tasks... that was my failing."
"No," I said, swirling the ale in my tankard so it made an alcoholic whirlpool. "Our downfall was Crimson Flame. He's our shared weakness. No matter what we do, no matter what we throw at him, he always outsmarts us, out fights us."
"Perhaps if we combined our—" The Mastermind began, another genius plan forming in his oversized head, but he was interrupted by Lilith, a succubus who had flown over to the bar to join our little group.
"Next time I'm sure I'll seduce him," she purred, biting her plump lip with a seductive chuckle. Her purple wings flexed and she elegantly glided onto a stool beside The Devourer, her tail wrapping over his shoulder as she gazed at him with a sultry glare.
Suddenly, there was a crash and the biting cold could be felt by everyone, despite the fire burning in the corner of the watering hole. We all turned in unison, straining to see who the silhouette standing in the moonlight belonged to. As far as we were aware, all the villains we knew of were already here.
"Who did it?"
The hairs at the nape of my neck stood on end and a cold chill ran through me. I knew that voice: Crimson Flame!
The tone of his voice was unlike how we'd ever heard it before. It was shaking, teetering on the edge of manic rage. He stood there eyeballing all of us, his blue eyes not projecting an ounce of warmth that they usually held. His sanctimonious signature white-toothed smile was replaced with a tight-lipped line that belied the fury burning within him like a roaring fire.
"What's the meaning of th–"
"WHO DID IT?!" Crimson Flame cut them off, punching the door so hard it flew over the distant horizon.
The Devourer got up from his seat, unsheathing his oversized sword and dragging it along the floor behind him. His bright red eyes glared at Crimson Flame as his clawed gauntlets curled around the handle of the blade.
"You're not supposed to be here!" he growled, his voice was slightly slurred from ale. His pride was still wounded from his recent defeat at the hands of this superhero and his confidence was fuelled by alcohol.
I wanted to tell him to stop. I wanted to tell him that he was making a mistake. I wanted to tell him to run.
But it was too late.
Crimson Flame had bested us hundreds of times before. But never before had he ever killed anyone. He had always operated under a principle of reasonable force. To maim at most, and only if absolutely necessary.
In one swift movement he shot forward in a red and orange blur. There was the sound of a thud and Crimson Flame's hand was through The Devourer's chest with his still beating heart clenched in his gloved hand, blood dripping on the floor.
The lights in The Devourer's helmet went out forever before Crimson Flame made a swift dismissive motion with his arm and the corpse of The Devourer shot across the room and slumped against a wall.
The Dark Corner became a blur of activity. Villain after villain threw themselves at Crimson Flame and one by one he destroyed all of them effortlessly.
Succubus was slammed into the ground, Crimson Flame ramming a red boot onto her back. He gripped her wings with both hands and pulled them off like someone tugging the wings off a fly. I heard her scream as the leathery sinew of her wing ripped.
Jester rushed forward, materialising throwing axes with his signature sharp-toothed grin on his face. Crimson Flame blocked them with his forearm, the steel barely even scratching him. In one swift movement he stamped on Succubus head, popping it like a balloon, before he appeared behind Jester and snapped his neck with a sickening crack.
It didn't take Crimson Flame long to dispatch the rest of the villains. The only ones left were Mastermind and myself. I was nestled behind the bar, cowering in fear. Was this how we made others feel?! I had never known terror like it.
Mastermind chuckled darkly. "So my device worked! And you're now under my control. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the sheer power of my devious intellect." I heard Mastermind's boots creaking on the wooden floor as he paced back and forth in front of Crimson Flame as he arrogantly relaying the details of his master plan, his voice dripping with arrogance.
"I had built the device years ago, it just took me a while to perfect it. I knew you were different to other gifted beings, especially... these cretins!" Mastermind made a sweeping gesture, indicating the mangled corpses of the villains that littered the tavern floor. "These philistines had no vision! Not like me! All I had to do was programme the machine to operate on the same frequency that your unique mind operates on! From there, I knew I could control you! And you executed your first task perfectly! Well done on eliminating my competition, my new apprentice!"
Crimson Flame stared at Mastermind, his eyes which had previously been burning with fury now had a hollow look. "What are you talking about? I didn't come here and kill these guys because you programmed me to, or any bullshit like that!"
Mastermind clicked buttons in his purple cloak and his eyes widened as the penny began to drop.
"I'm here..." Crimson snarled, "because one of you... FUCKS posted spoilers to my favourite show online! I've tolerated your bullshit for years! Always playing the part of the smiling hero! I'm... I'm fucking sick of it!" His voice cracked as he screamed hysterically.
Mastermind stared back in disbelief. "Your... favourite show..."
I felt a gust of wind and heard a wet splatting sound, before I witnessed an unusually large amount of brains scatter across the various bottles of liquor stacked on the shelves on the back wall.
Crimson Flame took several deep breaths before I heard his footsteps walking towards the door and he shot off into the night sky like a comet.
My eyes drifted towards the sign hanging on the back wall, surrounded by brain soaked bottles and trinkets.
"Welcome to the Dark Corner, where the finest minds unwind"
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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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It was easy for Noelle. Even her name had an indicator of happiness tied to it. To fight for the land she believed in. To bear blades against the villains and offer gloveless hands to the needy.
It was so easy.
But this? This was not easy. She offers everything to this land and its rulers, and in return, they offer her the equivalent of a blade twisted and gnarled as it is, directly into her heart.
The beats of her heart skip, and her face is flushed. Tears burn at the corners of her eyes before trickling down her cheeks and tapping in small droplets against her plated armour.
It made her unsteady on her horse. She didn't care. As long as she arrived at The Broken Wheel, she needn't care for anything else.
She huffs as she arrives at the tavern. The sign, a stolen wagon wheel, is broken in several places and hangs precariously low. The door is slightly ajar, and Noelle can hear the faint hum of a bard's song wafting out.
The sound does not salve her wounds. It only deepens them. She grits her teeth as she ties her horse to a post by a water trough and enters the tavern.
The jeering and laughter fall silent as she enters. She hears the whisper of her name on their lips. A mixture of awe and hatred. She again does not care.
She shoves a man out of the way and climbs onto the bar before bearing her dented sword. "Who did it?"
Mutterings fill the tavern.
She growls and points her sword towards them. "Let your head not join the others of villains I have slain. Who. Did. It?"
"Did what?" A burly man dares to ask.
"Kill my daughter," Noelle answers through a pained breath as a sob gets caught in the back of her throat. "Who? Which of you could be such a monster as to slay a 7 year old girl?"
"There's a bounty," a woman, leaning against a heavy hammer, says. "It was issued by the King. To slaughter you and your family. It seems whoever did it, only did half the deed."
Noelle blinks several times. She sways on her feet and can not bring herself to be embarrassed when the barkeep helps her off the bar and offers his arm as support. "My lady, they speak the truth. The King wishes for you to be gone."
"Why?" Noelle whispers, disbelief coating her tongue.
"He is hungry for power. You see us as villains? I see us as farm hands whose land has been stolen. The average stall hand turned crook to keep food on the table. The desperate mercenary trying to escape this land. What do you see yourself as?"
Noelle wets her lips with her tongue. "A hero, I had once thought. But it seems the King's pawn is more apt."
Noelle flicks her eyes over the crowd and assesses them beyond their weapons and rough armour for the first time in years. And she sees... the person she was was. Desperate and heedy for an escape. A future.
She purses her lips. Very well, if this is how the King wishes to treat his people, perhaps they need a new one. "The King dies," Noelle whispers before tilting her head up and shouting, "The King shall die!"
Shock echoes around the tavern before unifying into agreement.
They would take back their land.
And the only head left to be had is the King's.
After all, Noelle was quite fond of her own.
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The attack on the Dome Galla was the biggest news going around town. Everyone heard of what happened. The annual Dome Galla event hosted by Dome Industries was bombed, and attacked by what looked like mercs. Everyone was talking about it at the Cell, but no one had any idea who it was that orchestrated it. I was just your average mugger off the streets hiding out with some of the worst this city has to offer when that day came, when he showed up.
The Crusader, the newest blood of heroism with the power to control fire and turn it into any kind of plant he wanted. He also had force powers like a jedi, but was only ever seen using it to stop debris or enhancing his own strength. He showed up, and there was a tension in the room immediately.
"Who did it?" That was all he said before some random villain stood up, "Hey! What makes you think you could jus- AAAAAHHHH!!" Everyone flinched and got their guard up when it happened. All he did was flex his arm a bit and the guy's knee was bending sideways. "I. Said. Who. Did. It?" Everyone was quiet. This guy was always the wannabe Superman, to see him like this was out of nowhere, and kinda scary.
He looked at the guy with the broken knee and lifted his fist. The villain, Binder, suddenly started choking, like he was being strangled. He was grasping at his throat, and started floating in the air. I called him a jedi earlier, but he isn't one right now. One of the veteran villains, Canon, approached, slowly with his hands up. "Is this about the Galla?" Crusader looked at him, and dropped Binder. He crawled away as he gasped for air, but the tension didn't leave. He asked again, "who did it?"
Canon slowly relaxed, "Whoever it was, they're probably not even here. You know how we like to take credit for our work. We're just as clueless as you." Crusader looked down, but I saw his fists still shaking, looking like he'll explode at any second, then the second came.
Some guy in the back, Greed, was the villain with a background in accounting. If a villain needed money moved unnoticed he was the guy. He got up, probably hoping his information could spare everyone in the room, "Hang on! I think I might kno-" Mid sentence and he was flying across the room, right in front of the hero, his fist in the air again. "WHAT DO YOU KNOW?"
Greed was floating like he was being stretched in two directions, his arms outstretched and still stretching by the second. He barely let ou his voice, "The attack. Someone attacked the mercs. Most are in the hospital-" Crusader interrupted, "I KNOW, I WAS THERE. THAT WAS ME. NOW ANSWER. WHO DID IT!!?" We were all surprised. If he was there, then this was about someone he cared about. They must have been in the galla too. Greed struggled, but kept talking, "Oh. Didnt.....know.....that. But...one merc....still......conscious." Crusader dropped him and he fell flat on his back. Before he had a chance to recover he stomped his foot on his chest, "Where?!" Greed, barely letting anything out, "Gaia...PD."
Crusader got off of him, turned around to leave. But Canon put his hand on his shoulder and went ahead and tried the whole "you're not just getting away" shtick. Without blinking, Crusader stopped him Mid sentence, drove his hand into his mouth, and fire blasted him. Canon is strong and the most durable of all the other villains, and he was left struggling and crying on the floor all the same. Crusader left, and everyone else was too tense to finish their drinks.
I don't go to the Cell these days anymore, decided to straighten myself up. Or at least to the best I can. Something stuck with me that day. All these heroes going around saving people for whatever reason may seem cliché and childish, but that seemed like the better choice. The second anyone hurts those they care about, the kid gloves are off, and it was clear that Crusader holds back. A lot. And I'll be damned before I make a terrifying mistake like that.
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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.
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The attack on the Dome Galla was the biggest news going around town. Everyone heard of what happened. The annual Dome Galla event hosted by Dome Industries was bombed, and attacked by what looked like mercs. Everyone was talking about it at the Cell, but no one had any idea who it was that orchestrated it. I was just your average mugger off the streets hiding out with some of the worst this city has to offer when that day came, when he showed up.
The Crusader, the newest blood of heroism with the power to control fire and turn it into any kind of plant he wanted. He also had force powers like a jedi, but was only ever seen using it to stop debris or enhancing his own strength. He showed up, and there was a tension in the room immediately.
"Who did it?" That was all he said before some random villain stood up, "Hey! What makes you think you could jus- AAAAAHHHH!!" Everyone flinched and got their guard up when it happened. All he did was flex his arm a bit and the guy's knee was bending sideways. "I. Said. Who. Did. It?" Everyone was quiet. This guy was always the wannabe Superman, to see him like this was out of nowhere, and kinda scary.
He looked at the guy with the broken knee and lifted his fist. The villain, Binder, suddenly started choking, like he was being strangled. He was grasping at his throat, and started floating in the air. I called him a jedi earlier, but he isn't one right now. One of the veteran villains, Canon, approached, slowly with his hands up. "Is this about the Galla?" Crusader looked at him, and dropped Binder. He crawled away as he gasped for air, but the tension didn't leave. He asked again, "who did it?"
Canon slowly relaxed, "Whoever it was, they're probably not even here. You know how we like to take credit for our work. We're just as clueless as you." Crusader looked down, but I saw his fists still shaking, looking like he'll explode at any second, then the second came.
Some guy in the back, Greed, was the villain with a background in accounting. If a villain needed money moved unnoticed he was the guy. He got up, probably hoping his information could spare everyone in the room, "Hang on! I think I might kno-" Mid sentence and he was flying across the room, right in front of the hero, his fist in the air again. "WHAT DO YOU KNOW?"
Greed was floating like he was being stretched in two directions, his arms outstretched and still stretching by the second. He barely let ou his voice, "The attack. Someone attacked the mercs. Most are in the hospital-" Crusader interrupted, "I KNOW, I WAS THERE. THAT WAS ME. NOW ANSWER. WHO DID IT!!?" We were all surprised. If he was there, then this was about someone he cared about. They must have been in the galla too. Greed struggled, but kept talking, "Oh. Didnt.....know.....that. But...one merc....still......conscious." Crusader dropped him and he fell flat on his back. Before he had a chance to recover he stomped his foot on his chest, "Where?!" Greed, barely letting anything out, "Gaia...PD."
Crusader got off of him, turned around to leave. But Canon put his hand on his shoulder and went ahead and tried the whole "you're not just getting away" shtick. Without blinking, Crusader stopped him Mid sentence, drove his hand into his mouth, and fire blasted him. Canon is strong and the most durable of all the other villains, and he was left struggling and crying on the floor all the same. Crusader left, and everyone else was too tense to finish their drinks.
I don't go to the Cell these days anymore, decided to straighten myself up. Or at least to the best I can. Something stuck with me that day. All these heroes going around saving people for whatever reason may seem cliché and childish, but that seemed like the better choice. The second anyone hurts those they care about, the kid gloves are off, and it was clear that Crusader holds back. A lot. And I'll be damned before I make a terrifying mistake like that.
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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.
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70 years ago, a miracle happened.
The solutions to hunger, the solutions to war, the solutions to a coming ecological disaster were just a space mission away, and we knew nothing about it.
In 1954, the most powerful people in the world were sent a radio message to their offices, encrypted in a way that only they could decipher, and while whoever sent the message clearly wanted them to share it with the world so we could pool our knowledge to find the technological secrets faster, they chose instead to keep it to themselves and use the information to further their own national interests. Not only was the world left unaware, but the leaders of the most powerful countries of the world at the time were left unaware that the other leaders knew what they did, though they certainly had their suspicions. The leaders of the United States, the United Kingdom, West Germany, and the Soviet Union had all gotten the message, but only the United States and the Soviet Union were ambitious enough and afraid enough of not being first to pour billions into their space programs, hoping to reach the moon first and uncover whatever valuable secrets were hidden there.
By the late 60s, we were regularly getting probes to the moon and had mapped out the entirety of the lunar surface in preparation for a crewed landing that would get either the Americans or the Soviets the key to world domination.
Or so they hoped.
During the Apollo 11 mission that had supposedly won the Space Race for America, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin collected a sample from very specific coordinates given to them by President Lyndon B. Johnson himself. The smartest minds in government studied the sample, but they couldn't crack the encryption of the message contained within it, which was much more complex than the encryption of the message that alerted us to its existence in the first place. They needed computers much more powerful than the computers that existed at the time to decipher it. Thus, the United States poured billions more into the development of more powerful computers over decades, decades where only presidents and the most senior people in presidential cabinets even knew the real reason for these investments.
Until today.
Today, I got a call from a voice I never heard before on an untraceable phone number explaining everything to me. This caller said the government was just days away from cracking his or her code, and while it was initially believed that this information would save the planet, 70 years of watching us has made the caller realize that it would only expediate the planet's destruction, The caller told me exactly how to find the message and how to destroy it.
"How do I know any of this is real?" I asked.
"I suppose there's no way you can," said the caller. "But my calculations tell me the government will be able to listen in on this conversation at any moment, so I will have to go."
"Wait!" I said.
But the call ended before whoever I was speaking to could respond. Everything about this seemed crazy, but the risk of not acting seemed greater than the risks associated with me getting caught.
So I wiped the burner phone, threw it away, and began driving to Washington, D.C., fully aware that I would likely never see home again regardless of whether this mission succeeded.
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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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[WP] You're a deaf superhero. You're hated by most of the villain because you kept beating them during their monologue. One villain however, knows your deaf disability and learnt sign language just to monologue themself to you.
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“…you’ll find there’s no use running,” Pyro concluded his hand gestures, a satisfied grin painted across his face. Sure enough, the restaurant he’d lured Brooks into had no escape routes. Grills along the windows, motion-sensing bombs at the doors, canines on the rooftop – a flawless trap.
Moments passed as Brooks scoped the room, flustered. She’d dealt with Pyro on a number of occasions, but this was remarkable. He’d never been the sort to think ahead, far less plan something so elaborate.
“You must really like me,” she retorted, and his smile quickly faded into a look of confusion.
“I’d really like to *kill you*, yes,” Pyro gestured with a touch more oomph, upset at her senseless response.
It all added up for her now, and honestly, she was surprised it hadn’t clicked earlier. Seven years she’d been in this business and somehow, Pyro was only ever in the mood for antics on days she was working. That man was a model citizen Mondays through Thursday, but come the weekend he’d have hostages at the nightclub or stage a robbery at the ice-cream shop.
“Oh please, you always bring me to date spots, you’ve learnt sign language just to talk to me, and you’ve trapped me in this restaurant because you don’t want me to leave.”
“You’re really losing it here, lady,” Pyro tried to shake off her words, but his manner told a different story.
“I think it’s quite sweet actually,” Brooks confessed. Admittedly, she’d rarely had patience for Pyro in the past but this painted him in a new light. Compared to her experiences with online dating – where men would flake on plans without so much as a heads up – Pyro was a knight in shining armour. Sure he had stolen money and terrorised citizens and burnt down the odd building or two, but it was all so he could spend time with her.
“…you do?” Pyro questioned, cautious as a kitten seeing its first vacuum cleaner.
“Well, sure. No one’s ever put in quite this much of an effort for me.”
“Right, I see.”
“So are we getting dinner or what?”
“Uh, I mean, yes of course, if you’d be keen. When do you get off work?”
“Soon as you do, Pyro.”
------------
*If you'd like to read a long-form story featuring Brooks, I'm writing a mystery-thriller chapter-by-chapter on /r/brookstm*
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I found myself in one of the top villains' hideout, speaking in front of me is Don Miguel. The top 4 villain, is what I assumed he is doing since I can't hear a thing he's saying. Listen buddy, if you're gonna monologue then at least do it in sign or write it to me. I'd rather not bore myself trying to discipher what he's saying so before he can finish I shot him in the legs and arms with a pistol.
He cried in agony while I reloaded my pistol. He's probably cursing me right now, not that I care. I opened my walkie talkie and spoke "Don Miguel apprehended, come and get him." I didn't wait for a reply since I won't hear it anyway so I just walked through the halls of a once bustling hideout, now reeking of blood and smoke. Blood and corpses scattered everywhere, due to my lack of hearing since birth, my other senses are sharpened to the point where even I believe even the most atrocious of villains shouldn't be permitted to smell this.
The usual awarding ceremony occurred after I defeated yet another super villain. I grew tired of it, I don't understand why villains have the need to monologue. I visited the hero archives where my villain restrainment count lies, along with some soon to be other personal information. I tried to delay the submission of my personal information to the council but I can't run away from them forever after defeating my tenth top villain. So here I am in the hero archives submitting them.
And not a month after that a villain going by the name "Brian" confronted me at an abandoned factory with a hostage. I sighed again, expecting a monologue but instead he used sign language. My eyes went wide, I couldn't help but ignore the hostage tied to a pillar for a split second. He knows I'm deaf? But how? Ah right, hero archives. Oh well let's see what he has to say. "Hero Wildvamp, after all this time I finally get to meet you. You are my idol, all the fatigue and tiredness I get from grueling hours I spend at work all perish just from a mere sight of you. So please! I'll kill the CEO right now and I wish to be imprisoned by you!"
Well shit, we got a crazy fan here. Too bad I can't let you do that. But before I could move, he continued signing. "Why haven't you attacked me still? I heard you were notorious for defeating villains before they could even finish their monologues." I wonder why, maybe because this is the first time I've encountered a signing villain.
Oh well I won't make it in time to save the hostage so I'll have to use my power, which was heavily restricted for me to use because of my lack of control and lethality. And before Brian could sign another time, his arms blew up. Shit shit shit! I blew up both his arms, hopefully I don't get my license revoked. I can only use my powers when permitted or when I'm allowed to kill. But this time I'm not so I can't let him lose too much blood. He was screaming something while he knelt down, I couldn't hear it though so who am I to care? I immediately used my *"Blood Manipulation"* to clot his blood vessels, preventing any more blood loss. And so, Brian is apprehended.
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[WP] You know, Butler, I heard that the mansion is haunted by a ghost. That's quite silly, sir. I've worked here for 228 years, and I've never seen a single ghost in the mansion.
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Charles paused mid-sip of his cup of Earl Grey. “Pardon?”
Butler did not smile—he never did—but he gave his version of a smile, a slight curling upward of the right corner of his mouth and the tiniest crinkle beside his eyes. “I’ve never seen a ghost throughout my entire tenure, sir.”
“And—and you’ve worked here for 228 years?”
“Correct, sir. My mother was a maid here and wedded the cook. I was their child.” Butler brushed a nonexistent piece of lint off Charles’ shoulder. “Would you like some more biscuits, sir?”
Charles thought about it.
He would quite like some more biscuits.
“Yes, thank you, Butler.” Butler nodded, setting down the teapot on the table without a sound and making his way toward the kitchen. Charles, after brief consideration, resumed sipping his tea.
Stewart Butler—Charles had chuckled appropriately at the aptronym when he first heard the man's name—came with the house. The prior owner had made that quite clear, that the man had worked in their employ for many a year and could nearly manage the whole place by himself, though he was welcome to hire more staff if necessary. He’d first met the man a month or so ago when he toured the place, and been impressed by his professionalism and, well, his looks—his nicely pale face with neatly combed dark brown hair, the faintest hint of a mustache, white gloves, tall, but not so tall as to make a man uncomfortable. He’d had no issues with taking on Butler.
Charles considered the conundrum before him as Butler returned with a tray of biscuits piled neatly on a little white plate with a floral pattern, absentmindedly eating one and using the provided napkin to catch any crumbs.
“These biscuits are delicious, Butler. I presume you buy them from a baker in town?”
“I make them myself, sir. I’d be happy to teach you the recipe if you’d like.”
Charles dipped a biscuit in his tea, and decided to set the matter out of his mind entirely. People were always talking about how hard it was to find good help these days. Hard to do better than a man with 228 years of experience.
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You know, Butler, I heard that the mansion is haunted by a ghost. That's quite silly, sir. I've worked here for 228 years, and I've never seen a single ghost in the mansion.
“Is that right?” I say as I continue walking down the aisle of paintings
“Yes, quite right indeed”
“Hmmmm” I stop in my tracks as I realise he just said 228 years and not 28 years, so I decide to play along in order to see if I misheard him.
“So tell me, how does one keep busy for 228 years?”
“Oh, you know with a house this big there is plenty one can do to keep busy. Especially since everyone left me here by myself. People, I tell you, compassion is quite hard to come by. Imagine having to take care of this house for so long, wearing multiple hats because no one else is around. I can feel Lady Lucas turning in her grave as I say these very words…”
I continue to feign interest as I sneak a look at the butler. I recall his clothing as I strode past him when he opened the door, it was fairly old, I just assumed he took the job to heart. Now that I’ve had a few glances at him I don’t know how I didn’t clock it sooner. The overly pale look, that’s practically translucent. The cold air which emanated off him. Not to mention every time I’ve entered a new room, he’s just appeared. This is what I get for my poor attention to detail. An old house with the ghost of a butler that refuses to leave. It is then that I realise that we are in the main hall, there are several doors we are all alone. I am lost. I am lost and alone with a ghost chattering in my ear about his malaise.
I instantly stop in my tracks and Butler goes right through me. It is the oddest sensation in the world like walking through a spider web, I feel like something has crawled over me. He appears in front of me and looks startled.
“I do beg your pardon it was not my intention to bump into you, I got carried away you see”
“All is well Butler, just show me to the gardens would you?”
As we walk I start forming a plan in my mind, from the garden I should be able to sort myself out.
“Here is the garden sir, I’m afraid this is as far as I can go”
“I see, I guess this is it then,” I say as I step in front of him
“Yes, for now at least, I shall wait for you to finish your perusal of the grounds. You know there…”
I don’t let him finish. I quickly whip around to face him with my mini extractor in my hand, pressing the button before he can blink and realise. I watch as it sucks him up and he’s gone within a split second. I immediately drop it and jump! Did I do it?!
“Butler? Butler, where are you?” I call
The extractor wiggles in response. I did it. I caught my first ghost! I can finally join the guild! I hope my next ghost is more interesting.
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[WP] A grandma that you helped across the road turned out to be a genie who grants you a wish, you wish for a perfect 2023, but she misunderstood and now every day at 20:23 everything goes your way.
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August 7, 2031, 8:30 pm, Atlanta, GA
She was laying in her crib when her heart stopped.
August 7, 2031, 9:00 pm, outskirts of Atlanta
Little Jenny lay in her car seat, her face blue. As Moe sped through the interstate, way above the speed limit, 2 police cars were tailing him.
​
August 7 2031, 9:10 pm, Waco, GA
A police blockade is set up. Moe rams through the blockade.
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August 7 2031, 9:20 pm, Georgia-Alabama border
​
Ever since Moe met the genie, he lost faith in God. But 8 years of atheism were banished as he prayed the most heartfelt he ever has in his life.
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August 7 2031, 8:23 pm, Alabama, central daylight time
​
Moe steps out of his car. At this point, dozens of police cars have been on the chase. He surrenders.
In the backseat, Little Jenny starts to cry
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He wakes up in the morning tired, dejected at another days of work. Starts off his day with some basic chores.
A light breakfast to start the day, eggs and a toasted piece of bread, that's all you can afford on Walmart's minimum wage salary anyway. The repeated mundane cycle was definitely killing him inside and chipping away at his sanity, but every since that day, the day with the old lady, he has found hope.
Hope might be an exaggeration, even he knows its just the only thing that has kept him going day after day, and although he does not believe in a higher power, he believes that one minute in his day might just be something sent by the divine .
He rushes back from his shift, taken a bus back to his apartment, and waits patiently in front of his laptop. Clock ticks 8:22, he starts typing
Tick
"Hi Annie, i know you've told me you dont want to talk to me, but i just wanted to reach out. How was your day, how have things been going , how are you feeling ?"
'hey ! i was just thinking about you ! thing have been going good. heard a really nice song on the subway today, and booked a few tickets for a standup night show, got some pretty flowers for myself, things have been good, how about you?"
"It make me happy to hear about you ! fills me with joy to see you so filled with life ! just wanted to let you know i miss you a lot , and am not sure how i can fit all the things i want to say to you"
' I understand, its just that i dont.....................'
Typing.....
Typing...
Typing.
.
Tock
He knows, the time isn't enough, the time will never be enough. Still he waits, to repeat the same cycle, the next day, every day.
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[WP] A grandma that you helped across the road turned out to be a genie who grants you a wish, you wish for a perfect 2023, but she misunderstood and now every day at 20:23 everything goes your way.
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August 7, 2031, 8:30 pm, Atlanta, GA
She was laying in her crib when her heart stopped.
August 7, 2031, 9:00 pm, outskirts of Atlanta
Little Jenny lay in her car seat, her face blue. As Moe sped through the interstate, way above the speed limit, 2 police cars were tailing him.
​
August 7 2031, 9:10 pm, Waco, GA
A police blockade is set up. Moe rams through the blockade.
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August 7 2031, 9:20 pm, Georgia-Alabama border
​
Ever since Moe met the genie, he lost faith in God. But 8 years of atheism were banished as he prayed the most heartfelt he ever has in his life.
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August 7 2031, 8:23 pm, Alabama, central daylight time
​
Moe steps out of his car. At this point, dozens of police cars have been on the chase. He surrenders.
In the backseat, Little Jenny starts to cry
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At 8:21, I approached them.
“Evening, ladies.” I said. “Another round?”
Three of the young ladies were engaged in rapid conversation. The fourth sat glued to her phone.
“What are you ladies drinking?” I tried again.
“Dude, take a hint.” One of the trio said without looking my way.
The other two of the trio giggled. They continued chatting.
I flagged down a bartender, anyway.
“Round of shots.” I said. “Doubles.”
The trio exchanged glances. One motioned to my Rolex, perhaps thinking I’d fund their evening.
“Well? Come on.” One of the trio said. “I’m Megan.”
Megan had been the one to originally shirk me. I hoped she would not fall for me.
“Megan,” I said. “I’m Chris.”
The other two exchanged hellos. The last girl remained on her phone.
My questioning look got an explanation.
“That’s Maggie.” Halley said. “Probably on Tinder.”
Maggie made no reply, her thumbs moving with rapidity.
“What’re y’all celebrating?” I asked.
“Ha!” Halley laughed. “This looks like a party?”
She motioned to the dingy bar. My face grew red, which I realized, became ashamed about, and grew even redder. Within a few seconds I was a deep crimson hue, though, less visible in the light, I imagined.
“Oh my god,” Maggie said, looking up from her phone. “Look how red he is.” She tried to speak quietly.
Well, fuck you, too, bitch.
At that moment, the clock struck twelve. A chorus of angels sounded in my ear. A massive scale tipped in my favor, dictated by God or Satan himself.
“Hey!” Halley said, putting her arm around me. “Ignore her.”
Halley whispered in my ear. “I live just down the block.”
She leaned back, biting her lip, looking intently into my eyes.
I went with her.
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[WP] You wake up in a chair in a padded cell. Someone else sits across from you. A voice from a speaker in the ceiling says, "One of you is a natural person. One of you is artificial. Determine which is which. The real person gets to go free." You can't remember anything before this room.
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The room is silent, except for the nervous tapping of the woman in front of me. I smile, it's not hopeless. Not yet. The room is bright and strangely cheerful. I smile and try to remain calm. The voice speaks again.
"You may begin. Test Forty Five is now in progress."
The silence continued, the woman was tapping nervously, looking around. Eyes darting back and forth. I sit back and wait. The longer she does this, the less coherent she will be. I take a small breath and gently rub my neck.
Suddenly, she stops and looks up. "Can I get a tablet or a phone?" She furiously tapped her fingers while the speaker overhead crackled.
"...approved."
A small door opened and a man in a hazmat suit gently placed a phone on the table. The woman quickly snatched it up and typed furiously. She looked at the device, and then at me and smiled.
"Here. You finish."
A small panel appeared full of blurry images. In the corner of the screen were the words "Prove you aren't a robot". I looked at her, and then went back to the screen. _All the pictures were the same_. I panicked, starting to sweat. I gently tapped a few images at random and the phone buzzed at me. I tried again, until I was locked out of whatever site she was on. I give her the most evil look I can manage. "You bitch."
The woman jumped up and cheered. "That's how it's done! Let me out of here, we're done!" The speaker buzzed and the hazmats escorted the happy woman out of the room. The speaker crackled to life once I was alone.
"It's alright. We'll get it right next time. Change appearance into the next subject and try again. AI test number Forty Six will begin in T minus two hours."
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ZZZZZZZ... the sound wakes me up, someone is snoring near me. I would never admit it loud, but I know that it is my snore. Several times I’ve been woken by it. Many times, I wake... Wait, where do I woke in?
I do not remember.
Who am I? Where am I? And who the \*\*\*\* is the man next to me?
The other is still knocked out. But I see his chest rise up and down, he is breathing without problems, which is both reassuring, and worrying. Who is this guy?
I see him, I try to find something to identify him; but without success. The fella was clean, no tattoos, no piercings, nothing that might help. I couldn’t even find any identification document.
A buzz sounds. Up in the ceiling, there is a speaker. And the sound awakes my temporary partner.
We both look at each other, one asking who is the other. The other, wondering why they woke him up.
“One of you is a natural person. One of you is artificial. Determine which is which. The real person gets to go free.” The message goes for one minute in loop. It is understood by both of us.
For some reason, the name Phillip K Dick comes to my mind. Do I know that name?... Well, for the lack of a better alternative, I might consider it MY name.
Hello, I manage to say to the other. I am Phillip, a white lie but a needed one for this situation.
Hi, the other shyly pronounces. I forgot my name, he continues.
First point, he doesn’t know his name; though I too forgot mine. This task of finding who is the real person will be hard.
How can someone make sure they are real? How can we be sure that the other is artificial? How can we know that this isn’t just a logical ruse, and we both are real?
I must admit that everything is hazy. I indeed do not remember nothing, save that name. Phillip K Dick.
Why does it keep popping in my mind?
Better go clean. I admit that I lied, I do not remember my own name... And the other simply smiles in a reassuring way.
We are both in the same situation; I do not see why I should hold you accountable for that.
And the situation is dire indeed. We, in truth, do not know if there is a time limit; or some penalty. We really are in no risk, save from the imprisonment in this white padded cell. No windows, no notorious door. Nothing.
So, do you remember something? I ask.
No, unless the name Rick Deckard can be counted as a memory.
Again, nothing. We have little to work this situation. Even then, we aren’t at risk, we have time.
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lfqa7g4
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lfq76z5
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[WP] Humans have always had a tough time winning medals at the Galactic Olympics, but there is one game that they're weirdly, freakishly good at.
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“And you say this is a game for your young?”
“Obviously. Come on Katth’eek, just put the mitt on and catch. That’s it.”
“Oh Hu’man, this is one of your people’s ‘jokes’ is it? This is clearly not a game for children. If I could laugh Hu’man, I would approve of your non-sensical making.”
“What are you talking about. Come on, let’s have a catch.”
“Oh Hu’man, you have not weighed the ball, you have not measured the gravity, or the distance between us. How do you expect to make the ball go where you want it without calculating the angle and velocity you need? You’re just going to hurl this sphere through the air and expect it to hit this…”
Thwack. Katth’eek’s mandibles dropped open as he looked at the leather on his forelimb and somehow, this weak creature was able to put the white sphere directly in the center of the “mitt”.
“That… how did you do that Hu’man. Did you take measurements while I was not present? Do you have some sort of mechanical device I cannot detect?”
“It’s just a catch buddy. Now throw the ball back to me. Well, now, that was more like a drop, just grab it and try again… well, yeah, I can’t even see where it went this time. You guys really are bad at this aren’t you?”
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It was called Survival, pairs of each species were dropped scattered across a wasteland with no gear except clothes and 25 kilograms each of gear and supplies. Other species required much more mass to keep them alive in various conditions, humans could survive naturally in a wider variety of environments and didn't require such specialized equipment for each possible scenario. The team who Survived the longest in the wild without dying, giving up, or being incapacitated is the gold medal winner.
Watching the games spectators could watch with commentators from each race. The banner along the bottom of Humanity's Survival broadcast read, "Humanity set the record of [In Progress, beginning in GO Games MCMDCXXIV (19624... I hope) which was 5 games ago.]"
An announcer was recapping the history of the game as players began arriving to the launch point and gearing up.
"Our closest rivals in the event were the Chthizax, a race with limited ability to morph their bodies, but maintaining a form with anything above cosmetic changes consumed exponentially more and more energy to maintain. They previously held the record at 5 days, and before that 16 hours was the record for the Ami'i'aa.
The Galactic Olympic Commission has been petitioned to remove Survival from the Games because of the perceived," the announcer made air quotes, "'dominance' in the games that humanity has.
Thankfully for humanity, the GOC has refused to entertain the idea saying quote, 'Surivival is a cornerstone of the Galactic Olympic games and one that connects each race as all of us had to overcome when it wasn't a game with safety regulations and rules beyond the name of the game. Every species has a game or two they have dominance in, this game happens to be Humanity's. How quickly almost all of you have forgotten your outrage against...' and there you have it folks, Survival isn't changing and humanity continues to be the favorite. Let's get the gold for Humanity!"
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juyy9yd
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juyqoah
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[WP] You're the first test subject for an experimental super soldier serum. You are told the truth only after you transform into something not quite human anymore.
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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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I stared at my reflection in horror, unable to come to terms with what I had become. My body was now a grotesque amalgamation of tentacles, pulsating tendrils, and unrecognizable squid-like features. The once familiar image in the mirror had transformed into a nightmarish Lovecraftian creature. As the madness took hold, the reflection seemed to taunt me, its misshapen form a stark reminder of the monstrosity I had become. The sight of my twisted visage sent shivers down my spine, and I recoiled in repulsion.
The whispers in my mind grew louder, mingling with the demented laughter that echoed in the labyrinth of my thoughts. They told me to embrace the darkness, to revel in my newfound power. The tentacles that adorned my body writhed, yearning to wreak havoc and unleash unimaginable terror upon the world.
I heeded their call, my mind twisted and broken. In a frenzy, I burst out of the confines of the laboratory, my grotesque form leaving a trail of destruction in my wake. The tendrils that sprouted from my back lashed out, shredding everything in sight. I no longer recognized friend from foe, consumed by the maddening hunger for chaos.
The city streets turned into a twisted maze as I danced through the chaos like a demented marionette. Buildings crumbled, their foundations crushed under the weight of my monstrous wrath. The very fabric of reality seemed to bend at my command, warping under the weight of my delusions.But amidst the chaos, flickers of self-awareness broke through the madness. Like brief moments of lucidity, I caught glimpses of the destruction I had wrought. Innocent lives lost, families torn apart. The horror I had become brought me no satisfaction, only a deepening sense of despair.
As the military closed in, their weapons trained on me, I realized that there was no escape from the darkness within. The pulsating tendrils wriggled beneath my skin, urging me to fight, to resist capture no matter the cost. With a feral cry, I launched myself at the soldiers, each tentacle a weapon of destruction. The gunfire rang out, tearing through my flesh, but I pressed on, driven by a deranged determination to unleash chaos until my dying breath.
In the end, I collapsed, a broken mass upon the blood-soaked earth. The city smoldered behind me, testament to the havoc I had wreaked. But as the darkness consumed me, a flicker of remorse emerged from the depths of my shattered mind. I had become the very embodiment of destruction, an abomination caught between human aspiration and unfathomable madness.
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jmxqw7p
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jmxqc2x
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[WP] A knight has approached the dragon's cave and, vowing to rescue you at any cost, has proclaimed his undying love for you. None of this would be out of the ordinary, if you were the princess and not the dragon that captured her.
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"Sezzira! I've long adored your self-confidence, your beautiful amber eyes, and your ability to breathe a steady stream of fire for over five minutes. Your glittering scales shine brighter than the jewels of Oakhaven, and your forked tongue makes me think the most scandalous thoughts. I'm here to ask you to abscond to me to the Wildlands where we will not be judged for our forbidden love."
Nimue and I traded looks, baffled. This was not how things were supposed to go.
"You're not here to rescue me?" Nimue asked timidly. "You know, your betrothed? Princess Valyria?"
If she hadn't stolen my crown, glamoured herself to look like me, cursed me into the shape of a dragon, and set up a ridiculous plot to get my betrothed to kill me, I would almost feel bad for the witch.
"No," Lance replied, not even deigning to spare a glance in Nimue's direction. "In fact, I never loved you. After all, our fathers arranged our marriage to cement the treaty between our kingdoms."
I winced. True, but ouch. We'd grown up together for the past twenty-six years. I'd thought we really had something good going.
"Sezzira, you are the most attractive creature I have ever met. What say you we get out of here?" he raised an eyebrow suggestively. If dragons could blush, I would have.
"No no no!" Nimue cried. "You're supposed to *kill* the dragon. "*I'm* the princess. *I'm* the one that you love."
"Yesterday's news," Lance waved a hand dismissively. He winked at me, and instantly, I knew. Someway, somehow, he had seen through Nimue's nefarious plot. I knew not what he had planned, but I trusted him implicitly. Whatever it was, I would go along with it.
\---
/r/theBasiliskWrites
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“I shall save you, as my love for thee is undeniable and everlasting!” The knight called out boisterously.
*’here comes another one of these posers. Nothing about their schtick ever changes.’* my thoughts echo, an irritated and impatient huff of smoke leaving my nostrils.
“This is getting so old.” I mutter, before returning the call in a monotone, “yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before just come try and get the dumb princess so I can kill you, or, whatever.”
The knight seems to tilt his head after processing my words. “What? Oh, you seem to misunderstand, I’m not here for the princess, I’m here for *you.*”
A pause that lasts eternity.
“You **WHAT?!**”
“I love you, dear empress of stones! Your shimmering scales like a warm sea in the fresh dawn!”
*’apparently, I haven’t heard everything I though I did.’* I think, my face turning to confusion and slight curiosity.
“You’re in love… with *me*. A big, scary dragon who stole the princess for my own entertainment?”
“Why of course!” The knight seems offended by the notion that I was scary, or that I was doubting his love for me or whatever, I don’t really understand these humans.
“Your beauty is like no other and your heart of stone is just a concealed beauty of shimmering ruby, a light amongst your tough exterior, and all i must do is set your heart free from its forced down cage!”
“Look, kid, I don’t know what exactly you hope to accomplish here, but your not getting me or the princess so you can shut your yap. Sense you didn’t try to kill me I’ll let you go but you better hurry before I change my mind and decide to eat you anyway.”
The knight looks saddened, perhaps even heartbroken, at my words and I feel myself soften just a bit.
I bring my massive head down to him and look him in his eyes.
“Look, sir.. whatever-your-name-is… it just won’t work. I’m a dragon, you’re a human. I’m like, 10 times your size! I’m also just not interested in relationships, But, your efforts are cute.”
I hesitate for a moment, before lifting the confused and still terrified princess from her cage and set her down next to the knight.
“Alright, I feel bad, so here, take your dumb princess and go. Go home, announce your victory, make it public, and hopefully you’ll attract some other gal, *human* gal, to date, mmkay? I’ll go terrorize some other village.”
And with that, I take off, leaving the knight and princess stunned on the ground.
Huh, maybe something’s *do* change.
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kgv6g1y
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keuidz3
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[WP] After mistakenly transfering to a high school for monsters, you try to tell them that you're just a regular human. However, because of bizarre coincidences creating apparently inexplicable situations, the school population and teachers come to believe you're actually an Eldritch Abomination
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The ride there was uneventful. Bus packed with kids my age. Some of them looked a little strange, with their eyes pointing different directions, another wiggling his tongue around every few seconds, but it was easily solved by seating myself far away from them and forgetting about it for the rest of the trip. I took a window seat, and a petite girl sat next to me. Best option possible, she seemed normal and I'd have a bit more personal space. The bus seemed to dip slightly as people piled on and climbed the stairs, being a double decker bus. The driver did a final check, and we were off. Soon, my eyes grew heavy, and my cheek leaned against the window. It was a long ride... a nap wouldn't hurt.
"Hey... hey, wake up. We're here!"
Huh? What time was it? There was something pressing against me, wedging me against the window. I turned my head, still half dreaming.
Yeah, I was definitely still dreaming. In place of the girl next to me was a burly, musclebound demon with a face like gleaming goat bones, and raw tendons moving where the skin should have been. Luscious black hair fell to its elbows, seeming incredibly out of place. My eyes bugged out of their sockets. I opened my mouth and tried to scream, but my voice cracked and only a whispering squeak escaped. So it was one of *those* nightmares. I needed to wake up.
"Erhm, you can change back into your own form, if you like. No pressure, obviously! I just thought it might be more comfortable."
The demon clasped its hands bashfully, long clawed fingers folding over one another. Its voice was like that of a shy teenage girl. This was one heck of a dream. What was I thinking of her during my ride here? I shook my head forcefully, slapping my cheeks. Wake up.
"N-no? Okay, I understand! That's alright."
It smiled, mouth sliding ajar, revealing three rows of human teeth. Holy fucking shit. Cold sweat began beading on my forehead. I pinched my arm. And then pinched it again. It hurt, but in a suspiciously lifelike way. This dream was way too real. My eyes roamed past the massive shoulders (*her* massive shoulders?) And finally took in the rest of the bus.
Here and there, sitting amongst the rest of the students, were monsters. The bus was dusky with slow evening light, illuminating the three headed dog, panting excitedly as its faces looked out the windows. The guy next to that appeared bored. The yellow skinned monster with a periscoping neck, studded with large fleshy turquoise bumps, and in place of a head, needle like teeth that gnashed periodically. Across the aisle, a writhing mass of tendrils sat in its chair. Panic beginning to rise as my denial shrank, I looked to the driver for some sanity. Maybe we could turn this bus around. Maybe I could go home. This was a hallucination of epic proportions. I had finally gone insane. Something.
Reflected in the rear view mirror, the driver smiled to himself as he hummed. His skeletal face smiled back. My heart fell out of my ass. No...
A building loomed overhead, if it could be called that. It was absolutely massive, with gothic architecture and basins of flame at the entrance, gargoyles... wait that one was real. The bus screeched to a halt, and my stomach dropped. This couldn't be real. Our driver reached for the intercom mic and held it to his mouth with a spindly hand of bone, its springy telephone cord extending. His voice crackled to life over the loudspeakers.
"WE'VE ARRIVED. PLEASE GRAB ALL OF YOUR BELONGINGS AS YOU EXIT THE CABIN IN AN **ORDERLY** FASHION. ANY MISSING ITEMS WILL BE AUCTIONED OFF AT THE SCHOOL STORE. WELCOME TO THE ACADEMY OF GEHENNA."
Some of the students looked around, some of the monsters clapped. The bored looking guy rolled his eyes at the excitement, and a general commotion of chatter filled the vehicle. And all of a sudden... the remaining students all morphed. Face expanding, skin stretching and boiling, clothes melting in an acid hiss onto the floor. Spine elongating, scales flashing as they rolled out from their hiding place in a wave. The rest of the humans transformed into monsters... and I was the only one left. The only human on the bus for an academy of monsters.
My face drained of blood. I thought I would be sick. Maybe I was in a coma. I died in a car crash on the way to my actual normal private high school. Maybe my parents secretly hated me. Maybe all of humanity were actually monsters. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be-
"Hey! My name's Lyscha by the way. Don't forget your stuff!"
The demon next to me stood up, and the weight at my side was suddenly relieved. She smiled at me, horrifyingly, and reached into the overhead compartment to grab her luggage, a lavender suitcase with a felt flower tied to the handle.
"Actually, while I'm at it, where's yours? Is it this one?"
She easily palmed my black travel luggage and showed it to me, head tilting questioningly, her pupils burning pinpoints of hellfire. I swallowed, my throat like chalk.
"Yeah, that's the one. Thanks."
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An Eldritch abomination? Does anyone even know what that means? Many claim they do, but the truth is a rather complex set of circumstances that can make you one and if you are skilled enough you can still go back if you didn't do anything preventing you from entering the light side again. Truth be told, anyone can join the light side but if your deeds in the darkness were too numerous it can hurt a lot. Do you want a lesson in the ways of light and darkness? If so, then following lines will clarify essentials of the theory of cosmic powers.
There are two basic aspects dividing the Universe in two competing powers driving the evolution forward, which essentially makes both of them valuable as with one side prevailing, the Universe slows its development, possibly even degenerating the prevailing side until both of them are even again. Essentially a predator and prey dynamics from ecosystems known even throughout the Earth. So far many of you knew about this even before, but here comes the news rarely stumbled upon.
Light and darkness are words not chosen randomly. Just like color white reflects light and darkness absorbs it, the two sides work in comparable ways. Beings of light emit a powerful source of energy known as the Force, while beings of darkness drag the light into themselves, feeding themselves on everything that lives. This is why darklings and monsters can grow so powerful as they are not limited to their own source, but they can slay thousands and as such grow to immense power, but on the other hand cutting them away from life slowly kills them while beings of light shine just as bright in complete isolation.
Both light and dark aspects have fundamental forces of Universe at their disposal. Darkness grants you time and reality manipulation powers just as ability to use souls, while light side favours intellect, physical strength and expansion through space. This might sound confusing, but in short it means achieving transcendence through omnipotent technology allowing the most powerful beings of light to quickly travel through space and settle distant stars using power of their immense intellect and physical power granted to them through the use of technology.
Darkness on the other hand grows through consuming light and using it to alter reality, control the flow of time and summon new souls. This is essentially what's called magic and manifestation. Beings of dark achieve transcendence through biological evolution and as such they are frequently numerous and many of them die at a young age as a way to filter through infinite number of designs nature can evolve into.
Do you want to hear a little secret? Every being of light can decide to start consuming light of others and every darkling can decide to stop feeding itself light, go through the process of purge and start radiating its own light.
This is where the battle begins. It is a well kept secret a sense of what it means to be a dark being can be transferred through sonic waves and as such music became a weapon of the dark side. Slipknot's Antennas to Hell are more than just the name of an album. They can actually turn you into a dark being, which can easily bring you to Hell. Do you want to know how? It all starts with the lack of education.
Darkness is essentially a feeling and as such it can be induced. It feels almost like a sucking of outer energy through your body, which feels good and after some time, it even makes you feel the power of the dark side. It all starts with awareness of the light, which is essentially an ability known as Force tracking. You will become aware of life around you, feeling it almost like a physical field of a magnet all around your body. It starts with close proximity, but eventually you will be able to sense all life many miles away from you.
This is my story. Unbeknownst to me, magic is real and I managed to fall for it out of ignorance and curiosity. It started with listening to Slipknot, which induced in me a new feeling I was not aware of, I then started sensing life around, at first just a few meters from me, but later many miles away. It suddenly started to feel real nice to imagine drawing that life into myself, first from a couple of meters away, but later I imagined large tentacles spanning through the most potent energy sources many miles away, which caused my energetic body to swell into gigantic proportions and that was essentially beginning of an end.
By that time I was a powerful magician with might rivalling the best in class, all of it without even knowing how magic operates. I just felt it like a second nature and spells obeyed me just the way I intended. Combine it with an astral body of a giant and you are surely in a problem. There are people that can see auras everywhere and with energetic body that is hundred meters tall you have no way to hide. Following month I was killed and brought to underground Dark Academia for monsters of all kinds, where I finally realized that what I was doing was real and I was actually hurting people. Thousands of people at once, all of them just a little bit, but I was a dark being none the less.
Afterwards I quickly switched back to radiating light, which was effortless as my karmic debt was quite small and I worked through it in a matter of days. Now I radiate light just as any other human, my magic powers are almost gone and so is my stay at the school I got myself into by accident. What should I say? Basic magical awareness should be taught even to humans so that they won't fall for the first trap they come across and with Spotify so widely available many of them will encounter their first taste of darkness. Why not to teach them about it and make sure they know how to resist in the first place?
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m6vxfdn
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m6vq9zm
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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
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“I can’t possibly kill you, papa!” The little princess, Dayang, exclaimed at the top of her lungs. The thought of having to kill her father made her spine shiver. After all the years, King Lapu showed nothing but kindness and genuine love towards her. “I can’t… I don’t want to…”
The king lay on his bed, bedridden and weak. An illness has brought him nothing but suffering, barely able to breathe and was forced to breathe through his mouth. “My dearest, Dayang,” he held her hand, his body trembling weakly. “It must be done… I cannot live any longer, and the prophecy is near.”
“But… but I love you, papa!”
“And I love you most, but the goddess of death, Sidapa, is calling to me.”
When she first learned about the prophecy, the little girl simply laughed at the absurdity of it all. To think that she has to kill her father, a man with a heart of pure gold, made her chuckle. Dayang saw them as mere rumors, constantly joking about how she would take the throne by assassinating her father.
Until now.
“I will not let that damn goddess collect your soul!” Tears streamed down her cheeks. Despite her blasphemous words, she knew she couldn’t control death, that the goddess was too powerful to avoid. “I’ll fight Magwayan and force her to keep you with me. I’ll go through the Kasakitan and bring you back! I love you, papa! Please don’t leave me!”
Her words were selfish, yes. But her love was sincere. All her life, no one liked her because of the prophecy. Her siblings took her jokes about killing the king seriously, causing them to drift apart. But the one person who loved her unconditionally was her father.
The king simply smiled weakly at her, reaching out to cup her cheek in a loving caress. “I love you, my dearest. And I will always continue to love you even if you kill me…” King Lapu’s hands reach out to grab Dayang’s knife, placing it on her hands. “I’m proud of you, Dayang. I’m… proud.”
The next morning, the little princess announced the death of King Lapu. Her expression unreadable, but the people knew the self-loathing in her heart. The grief she had to endure.
The prophecy has been fulfilled.
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The king sat slumped over his bowl of soup, lifeless eyes staring forward into oblivion. “Gods, Martha. What have you done to the king?” said the king’s servant as he entered the dining hall carrying what was to be the next course.
“She shot him in the back of the head.” said Thelma, the king’s eldest daughter. The king’s youngest daughter, Martha, stood next to him, tears flowing freely with her head buried in her hands. “I didn’t mean to do it!” She yelled at Thelma with as much venom as she could muster. “It was an accident, you know I would never do anything intentionally to hurt our father!”
“That doesn’t change the fact that he died.” Said Thelma flatly in response to Martha’s outburst. “The battle was firmly in our grasp until your misstep. Now we have to meet back up with the kings of Palmu and Kard to strategize for the next round of fighting. If they even wish to remain our allies at this point.”
The king’s servant looked confused, unaware of what conflict was being referenced by the royal family. He chose to remain silent in order to not reveal his lack of knowledge.
“Surely they will not abandon us in our hour of need after everything we have been through together.” argued Martha. “We have been through countless battles with them as our most trusted allies.”
“Perhaps now they see weakness in our ranks”, the servant jumped as the king lifted his head and spoke for the first time since dinner started, “and wish to join our enemies who have more combat prowess in their royal lineages.”
“Father…I” Martha began, trying to make pleading eye contact with her father.
“Silence, daughter.” said the king, not turning to look at her. “This event was foretold years before your birth by a witch that appeared in a dream. She told me “one day, many years from now, you’ll make a plan with your allies to rush A and your youngest daughter will make an error that leads to your death and the loss of the battle.” I refused to believe it at the time because I knew no offspring of mine would make such a novice mistake.”
Martha was staring at her plate, on the verge of weeping again. Massive tears welling up and threatening to soak her face and carve flowing canyons through her makeup.
The king exhaled an accepting sigh, “Martha, my daughter, look at me. I love you more than anything in the world. I apologize for my outburst and I promise it will not happen again. Now that this has happened, I can stop living my life in fear.”
“I love you more than anything too, father. Shall I go contact the other kings and let them know we’re ready to continue the next round?” Martha reached out to hold her father’s hand.
The king reached out and squeezed his daughter’s hand in return. “Yes, inform them that we are ready to crush the opposition.”
As the family departed the dining hall joking and laughing heartily, the servant began cleaning, glad to be done with what ended up being a very awkward dinner service for him.
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jtfkt55
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jtfd593
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[WP] One day, the heads of all religions in the world recieve a telepathic message. "We are the Divine Protection Service, You have been removed from the care of your god for reasons of neglect. You will be entrusted to the care of a foster god."
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It was 20 December 2025. All broadcasts—television, radio, everything!—was hijacked by an extraordinary message. All screens were displaying the same text, even the ones broken or not plugged in. Entire warehouses of monitors just suddenly switched on without power supply. The white-on-black text stated
"Your god has been removed due to Divine Neglect. Please wait while we work on solving the issue. Thank you for your patience."
The text appeared in all spoken languages, depending on the native language of the viewer. On the radio, the message was transmitted via Morse code.
To say it was puzzling would be quite the understatement. Nothing else happened for 3 more days. Except that's a lie. Way too many things happened. Society didn't completely break down everywhere, but the disobedience was anything but civil in most places. Most religious figures tried to curb the event to their liking. "Testing our faith" was the most liked phrase. Some sceptics escaped into conspiracy theories. In their defence, suddenly those sounded a lot more rational, now that the alternative was a belief in an actual … service or agency of divine caretaking.
3 days. On Tuesday, 23 December 2025, something finally happened. A voice appeared to every human on Earth. Some received it on their phones, others on their televisions or radios. People who didn't have access to any of these heard it directly in their ears. It was a kind feminine voice.
"Hello, humans! We've received numerous complaints of Divine Neglect from You, as well as from concerned colleagues of your previously assigned god. We are very sorry to have put you through the previous couple million years. Your god, very unprofessionally, created your Universe and just sometimes jumped in to meddle in your affairs, instead of taking proper care of their creatures.
"We have assigned a brand new god to you. Their name is Doatoknha. They are one of those previously mentioned concerned colleagues. They will turn this horrible world of yours into a paradise, I promise. I'll now let them take it from here. Good luck!"
There was brief pause. A much deeper voice spoke up.
"So, everyone should be awake by now. Hopefully curing the deaf worked, too. I am Doatoknha, your new divine caretaker. You can just simply call me "God". I assume not all of you will appreciate this little stunt of ours, but hopefully we'll get through these differences soon.
"First off, we'll be working on violent conflicts between your 'nations'. They absolutely have to go before we do anything else."
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Faith is an emotion on its own. To embark on a journey of faith, true faith is a right on its own.
Some people have recently lost that right. They called themselves the champions, the flag bearers of their religion but instead they forgot the one thing that made faith the most powerful force in the world, humanity.
We have been watching Earth since the dawn of man. We watched them learning to stand on their legs. We watched them when they found the wonderful thing that was fire. We also watched as they created the factions of God. It didn't matter. God was a multi-headed entity. Every religion saw just one face. Some religions saw more than one face and that was agreeable too.
But we also watched when humanity turned on each other. We watched when they used the name of God as an excuse for their sins. We watched when they started considering themselves God. We watched and watched and watched.
We watched when one day God couldn't take it anymore. We watched him see the world he built with so much love being destroyed by the ones he created, the ones he loved. We watched him leave.
And we knew that we won't be able to watch anymore.
*
*Send a message in every language possible*
We, the members of the Divine Protection Services, have found the mass cases of neglect and thereby you are being removed from the custody of God. You will shortly receive a message about your Foster God.
Yours sincerely,
Themara
Divine Protection Services.
*
We saw the confused faces of the religious heads. They clearly thought that it was some sort of hallucination. But they didn't dismiss it. Instead all of them claimed to be god's vessel. The one God trusts the most.
We laugh at their naivete and their sense of grandeur. They just lost the protection of the parent who loved them unconditionally, the parent who was so saddened by the state of his children that he couldn't take it anymore.
We just hope humanity has prepared themselves for their Foster God.
*
We watched as the Foster God arrived at Earth waiting for a warm welcome. Even a tepid one would have worked instead of the tepid silence he got.
They considered him a trickster. A mockery. But it still hasn't settled that he would be their God for the foreseeable future.
They don't know who they have pissed off.
*
Should we do something? The question was uttered daily in the halls of Divine Protection Services. But no one answered. We weren't afraid. We were intrigued.
We have always thought that God loved his creations unconditionally, even when they sought to destroy. But the new one, the new one reminded everyone that there are consequences to their actions.
He slowly but surely straightened out the creases on the cloth of humanity. He never chose a policy of silent treatment or having a chance to learn from their countless mistakes.
He adopted a more hands-on approach. Humanity will have faith if they don't know what to have faith in.
And the changes were already visible. The tides have turned towards the better.
Everyone at the Divine Protection Services knew that the Foster God was what Earth needed. But they also knew that God would return.
And isn't that the most condemning thought any person who had faith could have?
***
[You can find more of my stories at r/iknowthisischeesy]
Also I apologise in advance. I'm literally typing this half asleep.
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j53j4t6
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j53hbu9
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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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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
|
Mimic
I'm not looking for a complex life, but that's really hard when life wants to make you complex. Mutants are rare in this society. Only about 1 in every 100,000 has some kind of abnormality about them. Some developed flight, super strength, telekinesis, etc. Simple things you know? My odds were slim, but I was born with a mutation. But it's complex... Messy.
If I could put it simply I can shapeshift. But it goes a little farther. I can copy the genetic makeup of any living thing I touch. I can create, replicate, copy, and manipulate the cells in my body to pretty much do whatever I need them to do. There are other shape shifters out there but they're powers only extend to shifting from one form to another, my shifting is more fluid.
But it didn't start out this way. My body would randomly shift and turn into grotesque looking forms. I tried to hide it from my parents but the day I almost devoured the family dog because we were having a territorial dispute was the day I couldn't risk their safety. So I left.
When the headmaster found me, he knew instantly what I could do. I never even told him, he just knew. like two apex predators we could sense each other and what the other was capable of. I don't know exactly what the headmaster can do, but I know that if we ever fought the city, or at the very least the surrounding area would not survive.
The first words he ever spoke to me were,"How do you feel?" A simple question with a not so simple answer. "Like I have the power of life itself in the palm of my hand. I can be whatever and whoever I want. I have the instincts of every creature on earth. I could probably cure every known disease or create a poise that kills the whole earth. It all a huge weight to bear. But I don't want any of it, I just want to live the way everyone else does. But that seems like an impossibility and I don't know what to do." The headmaster didn't say anything as I continued to talk about my problems. Problems that no one in the world has. When I was finished he simply said. "Then let me help you carry this burden, as long as it is yours.
Over the next year I worked with the headmaster to hone my mutation and push it's limits. The mutation that was on my official paperwork was simple shape shifting. We had decided that a chameleon was the only thing I could shift into, due to my fondness for reptiles and slight jealousy that they could fade into the background. As time passed I could shift different parts of my body into different forms. Growing new appendages was hard at first, painful even, but the headmaster helped me broaden my horizons and think outside the box by removing the pain receptors in that part of my body, then growing the new limb was painless and the pain receptors could be grown in after. It even got to the point where I could create cells that could harmlessly enter a human body via skin contact, have those cells create copies and then retrieve them back to my own body and duplicate the copies endlessly. Thus I could shift into anything and anyone and even use their powers if they also had a mutation.
Progress was slow but I eventually became a living embodiment of what genetics were really capable of. But this isn't the life I wanted. I wanted simple, so I pretended I was just a simple guy with a simple mutation. Until came the day when I couldn't pretend any more.
The Kaiju that attacked San Francisco was big. No one knew where it had come from, only that it rose from the ocean one day and descended upon the city like an avalanche descends on a helpless climber. The military was quick to respond but they were no match for the behemoth. It tore through buildings, bridges and anything that stood in it's way. Nothing could stand up to this monster, even with every mutant working together, it wouldn't be enough. There was nothing that anyone could do. We'll... Almost nothing.
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jb8caxa
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jb8b9zt
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[WP] Humans are the proverbial "Sleeping Giant," and thus make remarkably good deterrents. A common tactic of the Galactic Federation is to simply call in a human warship, such as the USS "Fuck Around and, FindOut," and simply let it sit nearby. Peace Talks happen within the week.
|
The hustle and bustle of the bridge provides plenty of ambient noise for my thoughts. Another deployment. Somebody Fucked Up.
If there was one thing I hated it was territory disputes. Just stupid time wasting bullshit, The universe is literally full of god damn rocks just expand in a different direction nobody is that close to each other!
​
But noooooo, here we are deploying the **USS BLACK STAR** (affectionally called F.A.F.O. anywhere the crew thinks they're out of the brass's earshot) to some backwater hole in the 8th quadrant.
​
Checking the data-brief a second time it seems like some explorers started terraforming a planet that another species was using as a nursey. Fucking yikes, no wonder the Ggrraattuull were out for blood.
We'd have to discourage them of course, a few dead kids doesn't warrant genociding these Valkrin idiots. Even if I personally think they have it coming for doing a shit job surveying the planet before trying to *completely change the god damn biosphere*. I swear, damn kids these days.
​
Seriously, who terraforms a planet? Just travel a little farther and find one that's already how you want it. Unless these Valkrin had some really exotic needs it was a complete waste of resources.
​
Before I can really get worked up into a good rant Engineering pings confirmation for spat-trans. I grab my own comm, cough to clear my voice and speak, "Attention all crew, this is your Captain speaking, you have 15 seconds to bolt your asses down before we spatial translocate into the target system. Get to it!"
​
The bridges murmurs quiet down as Engineering counts us down to one. And then we translocate, ripping ourselves from the universe in a mix of scientific might and unholy arcane fuckery I will never understand and proceeding to beat reality over the head repeatedly until it agrees that yes we really were over there the entire time and we were never actually here.
​
We cross 27 billion lights years in a single second. A violent explosion dwarfing any natural supernova births our arrival as we punch our way into position. And then before the wave of destruction can annihilate the local system it reverses course and crashes back into us, recharging the **BLACK STAR**'s capacitors.
​
Engineering confirms our position is within tolerances; we're not going to pull anything out of orbit this time, and in about 20 minutes our Ggrraattuull friends should recover from having their sensors flooded by our arrival.
​
Standard drone deployments of daisy chained sensor and comm units are already rocketing deeper into the system even as our mass drivers cycle and dry fire incase they are needed. Plasma mortar's are warmed up. Laser batteries are operational, and our gravity distortion is only 37% at idle. Fantastic.
​
At the 21 minute mark our drones are close enough to begin communication. Time to be diplomatic.
"Greetings Ggrraattuull attack fleet. I am Captain Samuel Briggs of the **USS BLACK STAR** you have no doubt noticed my ships arrival some 21.36 minutes ago Your sensors, assuming they haven't fried, are not malfunctioning. The **USS BLACK STAR** is indeed a bound singularity and if you do not cease attacking immediately *I will park it on your homeworld. End transmission."*
My weapons team is top notch. Just behind my transmission, timed to arrive just as I finish and accounting for the gravity lensing of our own singularity is a full laser battery to destroy most of the attack fleet. The plasma mortar's 3 minutes behind them will clean up the rest, sparing only the capital ship to limp back home.
​
Fantastic, we'll hand the footage off the whoever gets assigned to broker peace between these idiots and be home in time for dinner.
|
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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jhitcln
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jhiqft3
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[WP] You've been summoned as a hero of legend to save a medieval fantasy world from evil. Same old, same old. However, it very quickly dawns on you that a medieval world's idea of "evil" is quite incompatible with what you, a modern person, would consider evil.
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I gripped my sword tightly and walked towards the stone mansion hidden deep in the woods. For a den of evil and debauchery, it looked surprisingly... mundane. Yet the quest I was given upon my summoning was clear; the pleas of the distraught king apparent. Whoever - or whatever - was hiding inside this house was committing crimes most heinous, an affront to nature itself.
And *just in case* the sword wasn't going to cut it, I checked the magazine in the Glock I brought with me. A perk of being summoned from the 21st century to fulfil an epic quest. 17 bullets. Holster opened. Round chambered.
Good to go.
I approached the door and opened it with utmost care. I was almost disappointed when it didn't theatrically creak, instead just swinging open smoothly. What was beyond the door shook me down to my core.
Fountains of blood! Skulls of the innocent stacked into a chair! Green flames from hell itself!
A... green rug.
I mean I expected to see rivers of blood and stuff, real Hellraiser material, not... a cushy rug and a sofa. My pondering was cut short when I heard footsteps approaching.
"You!" a voice sounded from down the hallway. "What the blazes are you doing here?!"
Seconds later, the source of the voice walked in; a young woman with red hair tied into a bun and freckled cheeks. She wore a fairly loose white sundress, yet no shoes. The only remotely threatening thing about her was an eyepatch across her left eye. That and the fire poker she was brandishing.
"Meolda? Meolda the-" I started.
"If you finish that sentence with 'The Dark' I'll show you a piece of my mind!" she hissed.
This wasn't what I was expecting.
"It's over, Meolda," I calmly continued. "Your evil deeds will not go unpunished."
"Did *those morons* send you?" she asked. This, too, took me aback.
"...beg your pardon?"
"The King. The townsfolk. Did they send you to kill me?"
"Well... yes," I nodded.
"Oh of course they did. They-"
"Meolda, is everything all right?" a new voice said, soon revealed to be an equally young man with frazzled brown hair and thick spectacles that joined Meolda's side.
"Another '*adventurer*' Viktor. Here to kill us, apparently," she introduced me.
"That's what you get for your evil-"
"Is this about the reverse seeing glass?" Viktor asked. I frowned.
"The what?"
"My latest project. I assure you, there is no dark magic at play! It is merely a series of polished lenses that allows me to inspect things most minute-"
"Wait, are you talking about a *microscope*?" I asked. The two looked at each other.
"Micro... scope. Micro... small... oh, that is a *marvellous* name for it, good sir!" Viktor said excitedly. "I'll be sure to credit you in my memoirs."
"Things they don't understand, stranger," Meolda said carefully. "Things that scare them. That's why they want you to kill us. Will you?"
"Look, the testimonies were pretty clear," I said. "People saw a mutilated human body not too far from here; caught you red-handed moving it. Are you denying you did that?"
"Oh..." Viktor sighed. "Yes, well... that *was* us, yes."
I gripped my sword tighter with one hand, the other reaching behind my back for my gun.
"Have you ever heard of the term 'dissection' ?" he asked.
"I... yes."
"Impressive, good sir," Viktor nodded. "You see, a plague has recently gripped the nearby village. The poor man whose body we... dissected was struck down by it - we wished to inspect it further to perhaps uncover the secret of the disease. Maybe even find a way to reverse it."
"Then why were you dragging the body about?"
"We were trying to bury him, damn you!" Meolda snapped. "Then some idiot lumberjacks saw us and chased us away before we could! Not like we could bury him in our garden. He'd attract scavengers."
I loosened the grip on my sword and let its tip rest on the ground.
"Are you two just... scientists?" I asked.
"Yes!" Meolda cried out. "That's all we want! To progress knowledge in peace, but-"
"But," Viktor continued solemnly, "they do not... understand or approve. We go against the 'Will of the Gods' in their eyes."
"And the thing about you two being of no moral stuff is..."
Viktor and Meolda grab each other's hands.
"We've not married yet, yes," Meolda explained, "but we see this as no reason not to enjoy-"
"Oh for FUCK'S SAKE!" I yelled loudly and threw my sword to the side. "Waste of my GODDAMN TIME!"
The two scientists looked at each other curiously.
"Are... are you alright?"
"I- yes!" I scoffed. "I mean, no, not really. This is a... I could've been catching the latest movie but noo, instead, I have to spend 6 hours crawling through a thick forest to go and 'Kill the Evil Warlock and his Harlot Witch' only to find..." I said and pointed towards them, "you two. *Harmless*."
"So you... mean us no harm?" Viktor asked.
"No," I pouted.
"Good," Meolda said and put her fire poker down. Then, she released her grip on the lever behind her back I was yet to see. "We are not *harmless*, sir. We are *peaceful*," she said and pointed to the ceiling above me. I squinted my eyes and saw a trapdoor, ready to open and drop... something on top of me. I presumed something *heavy*.
I chuckled. "Well played. Also... what is this about you wielding lightning?"
"Oh, yes!" Viktor said excitedly and, seemingly trusting me already, ran past me towards the door and showed me a paper kite. "You see, I attached a simple metal wire right below the kite and when the next storm happened, it-"
I laughed. "It conducted the lightning to the ground," I finished for him.
Their eyes went wide. "Are you a man of science?"
"Just... not from around here."
"We're trying to find a way to harness this power. If we could find a way to do so, the implications-"
"We'll need copper, zinc, a bit of silver, cloth and brine. Do you have those?"
They exchanged confused looks.
"Yes, why?"
I grinned. "I'm going to show you something... *shocking*."
|
The night has come, the torches are lit, the crowd is chanting.
"Smite the wicked, bless the pure of heart."
The circle has been drawn with the entrails of animals, the stench is magnified by the heat, the miasma whirls as the voices get louder.
"Hunt the shadows, deliver us from evil."
The old man stood in the middle of the circle holding a cat o'nine tails dripping with the blood of his shredded back. Droplets fell, turning to smoke as they came in contact with the circle.
"Thy will be done."
The circle burst in flames, the old man was engulfed, his thin body turning to ashes, his soul gone before he could elicit a cry of pain. In his stead, a young, healthy, and strong man. He opened his eyes, saw a villager slipping a ring onto his finger.
"To understand our language," said the villager.
They bring clothes, they bring a sword. One is about to give excuses and point him in the direction of danger. The hero tries to cut her off and explain they got the wrong person, to no avail.
"The woods. There is a grove in there, hidden to our untrained eyes. A coven nests there, their influence creeps across the land like tendrils. At dusk, we see the malignious influence coalesce into darkness and raising to dim the sun. Soon, the coven will turn light to shadow, and the world made by God will be theirs to toy with. Already, foes are raiding from the South, encouraged by the darkness. The land is sick. Help us."
Slowly, the hero went on his way, because he didn't know what else to do.
"My wife is among them," said a villager, "if you could get her out alive so I can put her back into the kitchen and give her the daily slap like we used to, I would appreciate it. I miss the old days."
The hero stopped in his tracks. Then turned.
"Wait. What?"
"Well," the middle-aged redhead started, "we had a good thing going. Seven children, she cooked and took care of them, she did as I told her..."
"Yeah, my wife is there too," added another, "shame women never understand how good they have it."
Jean-René de Beauregard, a twenty-first century french banker and painfully aware they had gotten the ritual wrong for he was anything but a hero, raised both hands like a teacher being exceedingly careful about the question he was about to ask.
"Is any of these witches *not* from a place where she got slaps and was used as a breeding-mare?"
There was a long silence. Even the wind was ashamed.
"They are women," said a voice hidden by the villagers, "what else are we supposed to do with them?"
"And besides, they are responsible for the increase of monstrous raiders. They are black like the night."
Jean-René rubbed his temples.
"When you say black..."
"Their skin."
"You sound more bothered by the color of their skin than by the fact they are, you know, raiding you."
"I don't mind the raiding, as long as I'm being ravaged and pillaged by good Christians."
Jean-René considered for a little while the benefits of slashing his throat right here, right now. Alas, he was not yet advanced enough in the field of suicidal depression.
"You can't just kill someone because they are black! Or not christians!"
The audible, collective gasp made him immediately regret his words.
"We summoned the antechrist," whispered a voice.
"Are you sure?" replied another, "I thought the antechrist would be black."
"That's awfully racist," mumbled Jean-René.
"What does racist mean?"
"Look," Jean-René felt the headache rising, "I will... solve the problems. Try to, at least. Okay? Then you'll get me back home and we forget the conversation."
He left before an answer came.
Moving shadows, oppressive noise and the usual you can find in a dark forest at night, use your imagination, I don't have to describe everything, you know?
Anyway, with the power of goodness on his side, Jean-René found the conclave by virtue of following a wild boar that had come to sniff his foot before going on its way merrily.
Witches, grimy, deadly, surrounding a boiling cauldron from which the smell of chicken came. Humans smelled the same, but for common courtesy's sake, Jean-René pretended it was chicken.
Words were spoken in a cursed language, shadows took shape to engulf the foolish hero, who had only a moment to defend himself.
"Rejoice! In a few centuries, women will have the same rights as men, they will have medicine to have sex without getting pregnant, and they will hold leadership positions like men."
The shadow was clearly taken aback by the very idea. The conclave, like a single organism, decided unanimously that the hero was batshit insane.
"I'm not," said the hero afflicted with a migraine, "I come from that period."
"But..." started a young witch, "maybe we can accelerate it?"
"Alas, no," Jean-René's voice was deep and understanding, "time measures all, and what must be, will be in due time. Fighting now will only lead to an increased repression for you and your sisters, fear will fortify the church, a church that is glad you exist for it ensures faith will not waver. It is the simple questions who will bring religion down, not the great terrors."
The witches nodded solemnly, not realizing Jean-René was running on complete improvisation and talking out of his ass.
"We... shall return then," said what appeared to be a leader.
"But I will still raid!"
A black, burly man had spoken.
"They fear us, and the day will do nothing to dim this fear. I lead a host that has never gone so far up North, and when I will return, it will as king. Riches to be taken, the white, weak man to be slaughtered, their knowledge to be pilfered, and-"
"-Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeah I wouldn't do that if I was you."
"Oh?"
"Well, in roughly a few weeks of time the news will be widespread that black people are raiding white people."
"So?"
"Feuding nationd will unite and start pounding onto the South, installing colonies, despoiling the land and deporting slaves."
"Oh."
"Then they will improve the process, start piling slaves up by the dozen in shitty ships, have them die from sickness by the thousand, and sell and buy them cheaper than cattle. Methods so sick and insane you'd be better off never to get any inspiration from them."
"Ah!"
"Also, *do not* go East from here, because in a few years of time there's a dude who's about to be known for sticking pointy pieces of wood up other people's arse like a chicken about to be fried, except the chicken is human and still alive, and then he will plant the piece of wood in the ground and make forests out of impaled people. And he's got more trees than you have people."
"Screw this, I'm going home. White man's have horrible ideas, I'd rather remain simple and pure."
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jaabqhz
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jaa0iw5
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[WP] A fantasy army with its generic Hollywood tactics meets a small group of Medieval Infantry who understand things like "formations" and "discipline".
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It all began when the worlds colided.
How it happened or why, noone understood. But now new foes were marching through the land, alien kingdoms were demmanding new lands to expand. When king Andrew "the Conqueror" learned that a band of around 250 men had trespassed his frontiers, he expected the his army to easily fend off the offenders. After all, they were just 250 men armed with pole arms... and there were some children among their ranks!
And now he was sitting on the throne, listening to a messenger's report. "My lord, your army was dispersed" he said, terror in his voice. "They fought valiantly, but those strangers were able to fight off all our forces".
"How is that possible!", yelled king Andrew. "What about our griffoon raiders? Their charge is unstoppable to any known foe!"
"They were killed by lines after lines of pikes. They first killed the majestic beasts and then ended the life of their riders!"
"What about the Valkiry Warriors? They wear great swords, certainly they were able to cut the enemy polearms!"
"Just... a few, my lord. the Valkiry warrior wore no armour at all".
"Outrageous! And what about our infantry? We had over 1500 pikemen! What happened?"
"The children happened, sir". There was an incredulous silence after those words, so the messenger explained himself. "Our pikes collided with the enemy's polearms, it was an stalemate... but then our first line fell, man by man. The children that marched with the enemy warriers ran under the pikes and stabbed our warriors in the knees. That's how they were defeated".
The king sat on his throne.
"My lord, they are marching this way".
"How do they call themselves? What lord or tyrant do they serve? Maybe we can still negotiate a truce..."
"They call themselves... *Tercios Españoles,* from a foreign land called *"España"* or "*Espania"*, I'm not certain how to pronounced it. They gave me this message for your eyes only".
The messenger gave an scroll to the king. There was a message written in ink with a polished hand writting.
*"To the king called Andrew who helds the title 'the Conqueror':*
*We, the Spanish Tercios, have been tasked by king Felipe the Second to conquer this land for the greatest interest of the Spanish Empire. We stand no quarrel against you, your family or citizens. Your warriors, while foolish, fought with honor, so I know you will do the same, for only a great king can inspire such a thing in their soldiers.*
*This is the only time I will make this offer. Surrender now, king Andrew, and you shall be treated respect. If you refuse, know that it will be my honor to fight you until death embraces any of us.*
*May God bless you,*
*General Ambrosio Spínola."*
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Mid-day 3/2/045: "Warsong's Bridge."
A soft wind blows through the encampment as I turn the haft of my spear between my gauntlets. The small detachment of our regimental engineers is sprinting between the river's shore and the nearby forest as I observe the distant swamps of Kadesh. Death's hand lingers above the regiment plucking away at the strands of my heart as the enemy legion approaches unseen miles away.
The scouts say we are outnumbered and word has gotten out that we are merely to buy time for the king's army to assemble. There won't be any escape should we be driven into the knee-deep waters of the marsh, they would sooner run us down than accept surrender. The terse rattling sounds of boots scraping against dry gravel betray the sergeant-at-arms's approach as the weathered veteran appears astride my posting.
His dour clean-shaven appearance betrays his status as the section commander as he tucks his feathered helmet under one arm. He doesn't speak for a long moment as he observes the shifting of the spear's pole in the dirt judging. My half-plate is in tatters from the march toward the front as many others as the superior speaks after returning his sight to the distant swamps bridged roadway. "Armsman."
There's no lapse between my feet and arms snap to attention and the unspoken command. Years of training with the regiment have brought my mentality into a perfect representation of mental discipline. One right face raised gaze, and the pole's stamp into the dirt is completed before I voice my completion of the order. "Sir!"
I lock eyes unblinking like the soldier I've been trained to be as the officer leisurely turns to face me. There's a look of disdain in his eyes before he speaks; a judging unspoken hatred that speaks volumes as he returns his gaze to the enemy's approach. "Cut the bullshit, son, I'm not going to report you to command for being personable."
"Yes, sir!?" hesitantly I lower my parade rest into an at-ease posture before leaning onto my polearm to relieve the aching in my feet. It catches his eye but he says nothing as he sips from a small mug of ale.
"How's the watch Tir?"
"I already sent off my farewells with the corpsman sir. I'm vanguard." The old fellow gazes into his drink for a moment before tossing the clay pot down the slope. My eyes followed the shattering utensil as he spoke in his standard aggravated tone.
"They put you on the front, why wasn't I informed of this?"
I didn't say it was because my family back home was killed in a raid and that I wished to die with honor. I didn't say it was because I hated the rebel horde and I wanted to mangle as many as I could. Instead, I pulled my scarf below my collar. The red fabric clung to my helmet like a blindfold given to the soon-to-be hanged. "I don't have anything left sir."
He took a moment to inspect my person before slapping the side of my helmet with his closed fist. The blow rang through my helmet carrying my head back an inch before I returned to my position of rest unfazed. The officer grabbed the end of my scarf inches from my countenance before whispering.
"Don't you fucking try that again; there are better ways to die. You're one of us, we don't leave our own to die on the battlefield! Head to the rear line and find the medics, make sure no one we don't like gets in there. You might be the best spearman in the platoon but I don't need another corpse on my hands. Do you understand!"
"Yes, sir."
"Dismissed."
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kdrjr1k
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kdr54ln
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[WP]You get isekai’d into a typical fantasy world with the ability to summon any weapon. You often summon typical weapons like swords, spears, maybe a gun if you need it. You finally realize fictional weapons can be summoned.
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I always felt that a *proper* Isekai had three parts.
First, you were killed in the real world. And, well, in math terms? A person + a truck? Yeah, that equals a truck.
Second, you found yourself transported to a new, more magical, world. That was certainly the case. I awoke (buck naked) surrounded by thirteen chanting men in crimson robes, in the middle of some grand design inlaid on the marble floor of a palace.
Third, you were gifted some power or ability to help you in your new world. Sometimes that’s as simple as foreknowledge of the world you’ve entered. ‘Spoiler territory’, as they called it. Or a piece of technology or incredibly specific information from the real world. Or even some great and powerful weapon…
“Hah! Ack…” I tried to laugh, but instead started to cough, causing my wounds to start bleeding again. And the pain in my chest to increase.
‘Great weapon’? What a joke.
Oh, I had the best power for that. Being surrounded by cultists in your birthday suit? Well, your instinct is to whip out something to defend yourself. And, to my astonishment, I found myself holding a rather large broadsword in my hands.
Which, after a few seconds, was too heavy for me to hold up, and dropped to the floor. Narrowly missing cutting off my toes. “Hah! Ack.. ack..” Dagnabbit, stop making yourself laugh. It hurts so much.
Now, my power seemed to be great at bringing me a weapon. As, finding myself disarmed, I wished for something lighter and easier to hold. A handgun of some kind (it’s been over a year, so fine details sometimes get lost) was in my hands.
A pull of the trigger, and the bullet hit the wall. Nowhere near any of the cultists. Plus, the recoil launched the gun back and it broke my nose before falling away.
Lying there, blood streaming down my face, I now found myself holding a grenade. My first instinct? Pull pin, count to three, throw. But I tamped it down, having seen my luck so far.
You see, I understood my power. Or, at least, the simplest strokes of it. I could bring (or create? Summon?) any weapon I wanted.
But I had zero idea how to use them. Stabby, bangy, pew-pew ends towards enemy. That was it.
I was lucky… hah… that my captors were… well, *seemed* benevolent.
The King I was brought to explained that their world faced a crisis. One that needed a Hero, an Outsider Hero, to solve. And after it was over, I’d be returned to my home.
Compete and utter bullshit, of course. I’d seen enough of that at my college to sniff it out here. But it seemed prudent to go along.
It took, I must admit, much longer to figure out their angle than I thought it would.
Every day they’d wake me up at the crack of dawn, and have me ‘train’ with their soldiers. Summon the weapon they were training me on, one for me and one for my sparring partner, and then battle until breakfast.
It’s possible I did get better, doing that.
I mean, *anythings* possible.
Between breakfast and lunch I would return to the practice field. Two more sparring partners, on different weapons (that I summoned).
After lunch, I would meet with the court wizards. The ‘cultists’. They would have me do different ‘exercises’, that basically amounted to pulling more and more weapons from wherever they came from. “Quick as a teardrop, fifty ornate pikes!” Or “A matching set of long sword, short sword, and dagger”.
And after dinner? They had me work on ‘strange weapons’. Crossbows, handguns, rifles, and even just ammunition.
I finally cottoned on when they ‘tested my endurance’ by having me pull out boxes of bullets until I no longer could. They had servants on hand to cart them off as fast as I made them.
The last few, when I was struggling to stay conscious, they brought in ornate shipping boxes to hold them, thinking I wouldn’t notice.
I was nothing more to them than a weapons factory. The soldiers, while disparaging of my abilities, had nothing but praise for the weapons themselves. Perfectly balanced. Fit in their hands just right. Better than their armsmasters could make on their best days.
It took months, but I was finally afforded some (small) amount of time to study in the palace’s library. Ostensibly to see their volumes of weapons to make sure I was making them correctly. But actually to study their world through their works of literature and history.
And what I saw? This world was a disease. The entire damn place had been at war for nearly a thousand years. Four city-states were left, in the desiccated ruins of this continent. Surviving **only** because they were summoning Outsiders, like myself. Ones who could create different things.
The most common were those that could summon foodstuffs. Meaning that they no longer needed peasants to grow crops.
Meaning that the ‘sacrifices’ to bring in new Outsiders? Grew much more frequent…
I was, of course, caught rather quickly. Perhaps the kid who was *meant* to be here could have been more sneaky, and rallied the people into an uprising. Taken over the kingdom and (eventually) United the world.
Too bad I’d missed the Fourth thing needed for a proper Isekai. Some idealistic dumb kid as the one that got pulled in. Instead, they got me. A Professor of Pop Culture at Greensdale College. One who just happened to save a student’s life by pushing her out of the way of the speeding truck, but was too old and fat to do the same.
In front of the King I pulled out my trump card. One that I’d been dying to try… I pulled out a lightsaber. Figuring my limited sword skills would be enough, when my blade would destroy any other sword I came up against.
It worked. Their broadswords melted. Which just meant that there were fast-moving bits of molten metal that spattered against my body. **NOT** an improvement, and it left me lying on the floor, screaming in pain.
And staring up at the King’s personal guards, each of which had a handgun pointed at me.
I spent the next week being tortured. Demanding I bring in more magical weapons like the lightsaber. I tried to resist, but… torture!
Finally, I broke. They wanted weapons? I’d give them one. They demanded the most deadly weapon I could make.
And I made it.
What was it, you may ask.
A rifle? No.
A rocket launcher? Way off.
A nuclear bomb? Closer.
No, I chose something that would wipe clean this entire godforsaken world.
The King stood in front of my broken body, strung up suspended in chains. Asking what to call the weapon I would conjure for them today.
The pain in my chest grew overwhelming, but as the King leaned closer I smiled.
And whispered my final word.
“…xenomorph…”
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My deep breathing intensified by the moment as the realization of imminent defeat approached, in the form of a Dark Lord, the size of a Troll from Lord of the Rings at least, in full black armor, with a crimson sword, filled with the blood of my soldiers, towards me.
It had been 3 years since I came into this world, before that I was nothing, just a nobody who frequented reddit and lived in a middle class family in Spain with a good level of English, one day a car hit me on the way to the University and I died, that was it, one more number in the statistics of people killed in traffic accidents.
Until I woke up in this new world, where I was summoned as its Legendary Hero, and charged with the task of preparing the world for the arrival of the Dark Lord, who planned to invade from the northern lands, and who was corrupting all natural life in the world wit his dark magic.
I soon discovered that my power was summoning weapons, it is something I did from then on in every battle to win against many foes, soon I used this power of mine and my status to pressure the Hespana Kingdom to let me lead their army and not just be a soldier in teh front.
For years we,a nd allies Kingdoms, repelled the attacks of the Dark Lord, who sent his lieutenants against us, along with other Kingdoms that he had already subjugated, and we forcibly kept the enemy's forces on their borders, but we never had the chance to advance further, because only I could use the weapons that I summoned, still we started making plans for an invasion, because we needed to kill the coward Dark Lord in order to end his armies of undead from attacking.
But that planing ended when some of our allied Kingdoms refused to invade for fear of high casualties, limiting the number of troops available, we failed in the offensive, then our coalition was eventually overwhelmed, our allies were Bliztkrieg and conquered, and our forces retreated to our core territories in Hespana, we were the last free nation standing, and the Dark Lord now had an army that outnumbered us 100 to 1.
Then we had desperate last stand, for the first time against the Dark Lord himself, who managed to surround our army on the mountain pass to our Kingdom, and who have come in person to lead his forces in his ultimate victory, since after this battle our army would not have the manpower to keep fighting more, so this is the end.
I slaughtered countless enemy undead troops and auxiliary foces, but to defeat the Dark Lord was impossible, even using all kinds of weapons: Swords, bows, axes, spears, maces, pistols, shotguns, machine guns, even a fucking bazooka!
His armor was indestructible, and his Dark Magic unstoppable, not for nothing had he managed to raise an army of skeletal undead for his campaigns and corrupted the environment of all the world to make himself more powerful.
And there I was, exhausted and barely standing, watching my nightmare approach with his crimson sword, filled with blood, and ready to butcher me and all my loyal soldiers standing against this force of darkness.
Dark Lord: "Your honor and duty are nothing, only pain matters, you suffered in silence, you... will die dor their sins!"
My enemy said with contempt and coldness, with the nailed voice of a Doom Marauder, as he walking to me, slowly but relentless.
Me: "This is not the end you bastard! I killed all your lieutenants, I can do the same to you!"
I said, trying to cheer myself up while pointing my shotgun at him, but I knew that this was pointless, he have survived all I used against him, he was just above me.
Dark Lord: "I am far superior to them. Your strange weapons will not work on me, your armies dwindle and are crushed by my skeleton soldiers and my auxiliaries from conquered territories. Accept it Hero, you are finished, and the spores of my Dark Magic will soon swallow your Kingdom completely, destroying natural life, and corrupting everything, like this battlefield, after that I will rule this world forever, bringing order to all this chaos, and you will be forgotten, I bet just like from the world you came from."
He was right, this was the end and I will be forgotten after he have enslaved all living people, my life was flashing before my eyes, and I could see my entire pathetic life before I was a Hero, as a random middle class kid in Spain, who just wanted to be happy and laught with a videogame... Wait, what did he said? Spores? Like that game that I loved called *Spore*?
My memory would fill with thoughts of those happy days playing that simple but entertaining game, from being a cell to ruling the stars, and I remembered buying a thing called *Planet Buster*, in that moment it materialized in my hand, floating over it ike all weapons I summon, and I smilled, realizing the full unused power of my mine.
Me: "Do you see this, son of a bitch? If I throw this against the ground, this world will explode, we will all die and your dreams will fail, give up and I won't use it, I know you can feel that I am telling the truth with your dark magic.
The Dark Lord would stop, his aura of evil still emanating from him, but now there was doubt, for the first time there was no arrogance in him.
Dark Lord: "It is true that that weapon has that power, but it is also true that you are blaffing, you would not dare to use it and kill tens of millions, including yourself, so it is better that YOU give up now."
It's true, I couldn't destroy the world, shit, it was easier through a computer screen when I used it to destroy planets of the Grox Empire, even if that wasn't very effective because it was better to use the... Damn, of course! I am stupid!
The giant ball of destruction of red light that adorned my hand would be replaced by a green one.
Me: "You're right, that weapon of mass destruction was garbage anyway, you can't colonize a planet if you've destroyed it... It's better to clean it of Grox slag and create something new there!"
I would scream as I threw the large green ball of energy against the ground, the *Staff of Life*. The Dark Lord would watch in disbelief, as suddenly the grass emerged from the barren ground, the clouds cleared, trees and animals sprang up from nowhere around us, the air was purer than ever before, and the birds sang echoed through this pass between the mountains, which no longer seemed like a battlefield between an army of 10,000 troops against 1,000,000.
The undead, without the power of dark magic, would fall inert to the ground like simple piles of bones, the enemy auxiliaries, not feeling the dark magic running through their veins, would flee en masse or surrender without fighting anymore, and the Dark Lord , helpless, he would collapse to the ground in fury and anger.
Dark Lord: "I HATE YOU!!!"
He would scream as the disappearance of his dark powers caused him to fall to the ground weakened.
Me: "Shut up Anakin Skywalker, I have the fucking high ground now!"
Then I would try to take off his helmet, but underneath it there was nothing, his body evaporated, like fucking Darth Nihilus, huh? Well, it seems like I wasn't going to be the one who would be forgotten after all.
My troops would run towards me, to thank me for the victory and celebrate, I could only smile as I saw them coming.
Me: "Who knew that a silly video game about evolution would save my life..."
I would laugh knowing finally that after all, if I ended up being someone, the *Hero of Spore*, it didn't sound like a bad title.
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lrao0tz
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lracbrq
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[WP] "You never killed him! He kept committing crimes and hurting and killing people and you just LET HIM! So we, the citizens, did it FOR YOU!" The supervillain's corpse twitched as the hero asked, "Did you ever stop and wonder why? I can't help you anymore. So I'm leaving this planet. Good luck."
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Adam watched in horror as the missiles crashed down at the feet of Evernight. At first the shock wave hit that send a powerful gust of force outwards from the blast zone leveling multiple buildings and sending cars flying into their air. Then the blinding light and thundering noise caught up. The world around him was nothing but sound, light, and fury. He kept his eyes open to watch as he watch Evernight crumple to one knee. He felt his heart sink as he watched the color draining from the so called villians body and he knew that the end was near. The stone like body slumped over and slowly began to crumble.
The humans of the Earth had considered Evernight a villian and blamed him for the deaths of hundreds thousands. What they didn't understand that Evernight was the Earth or at least it's Guardian Spirit. It was like a white blood cell in a human body trying to kill off an infection. The Earth had created the being as a way to balance the scale and to rid itself of what was killing it, human kind.
They had hounded Adam to kill Evernight and about 40 years ago he had beaten Evernight. He was about to deliver the killing blow when a pulse of energy shot into him and like a flood it showed him images of how badly the earth was ravaged and the connection between the Earth and the Guardian Spirit. He had pulled his punch dumbfounded and backed off. He flew away and a few days later he was summoned by the world leaders.
He tried to explain to the world leaders about what he saw but they dismissed him as an alien helping another alien. They stripped him of his title of World Protector and labelled him a traitor. The Hero he had become was banished and so he chose to live his life out as a civilian no longer meddling with human issues. It wasn't until he was watching TV one day and he saw that they had initiated the offensive against Evernight. They lured him into an abandoned city and with other unknowing heroes had tied him up long enough for them to begin their onslaught.
After the explosion nothing but a smouldering crater remained. Evernights' crumbling body was withering away and as it did the earth beneath him started to turn gray and lifeless. It was a slowly spreading and while it wasn't fast it was persistent. Adam knew what was happening and knew that there was nothing he could do. Plants would soon start to die, then the insects, then the larger animals, and then the humans. This wouldn't be a fast death but it was very much assured.
He thought about flying home but there wasn't anything that he wanted to take with him. He was floating above the earth in low orbit as he watched the small patch of gray slowly getting bigger. With one last look he turned and flew off in the direction of another planet a few thousand light years away. Hoping upon hope that those beings did not do what the humans did.
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With a single bound, the hero rocketed up into the bright blue sky, towards the upper atmosphere. A swirling of dust and leaves were the only indication he once held stewardship over this planet. The gathered crowd stood in stunned silence. From somewhere in its depths, a voice called out.
"Well now what do we do?"
The crowd murmured and began to dissipate. The once proud villain, neck now bent at an unnatural angle, swung lifeless from the streetlight.
The effects of his death were felt almost immediately. Overnight, DynoCorp, which had been one of the leading employers on the eastern seaboard (and which also happened to be the seat of power for the deceased), closed its doors. While malevolent and cruel, the villain also had a penchant for business. DynoCorp was his baby, and he maintained almost total authority in its dealings. With the power vacuum his death created, the remaining members of the board fought for control. Some sold their shares, some tried to take over leadership, some were killed by others in the boardroom. After a period of days, the remaining members decided to dissolve the corporation and sell off all of their assets. The money they received was enough to buy islands and governments of small countries. For the rest of the workers, however, the decisions of a few morally corrupt board members changed their lives forever. 25,000 DynoCorp employees now had to find work. But that wasn't all. The dissolution of DynoCorp also had a ripple effect on all of its subsidiaries. Thrill World Amusements, Ms. Clara's Food Inc., The Vermont Woodchucks Baseball Team, Yahoo.com. All of these separate entities immediately lost a major source of funding and, subsequently, also had to enact major layoffs. All told 48,000 people were now eligible for government unemployment assistance. Many of those people would also apply for, and receive, countless other social programs.
The strain on the government infrastructure, be it local, state, and federal, was immense. Funding was cut from education and the arts. Public radio and television were taken off air. Space missions were cancelled. Senators who were bought and paid for by DynoCorp now held no allegiances to the company or the dead villain. Without DynoCorps lobbying and campaign contributions, the incumbent congressmen were voted out of office. And while malevolent and cruel, the villain also cared about social programs and the environment. When the new congresspeople took office, they voted to take away the social assistance that 48,000+ people relied on. They reneged on environmental regulations. They watched the world burn.
All of this happened in the first two years. By year five, 60% of the laid off workers were homeless. By year ten, the global temperature had risen by .3 degrees F and the ocean acidity fell to 7.7. By year twenty, the east coast of the United States had devolved into chaos. Cities were urban hellscapes ran by corporate puppets and crime lords. There were only two currencies: lead and blood. By year forty, America was lost. Roving bands of raiders and outlaws ate and drank the land clean. By this time, however, all food and water were scarce. DynoCorp was the leading researcher and developer for farming methods in a warming world. Without their contributions, the midwest turned into a dustbowl once again.
By year 80, the only people left on the North American continent more closely resembled rats than what man once was. They were diseased vermin. And they were lost.
Above the Earth, our once great hero sat and watched. A tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it way, turned, and flew off into the void.
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kfmda7o
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kfm7wjt
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[WP] They said that you could never save the kingdom, that you would fail and die miserably, because you were not the prophesized hero. And when you returned after saving the realm on your own, instead of welcoming you as a hero the king banished you, as it was not your place to save them.
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I threw my arms over my companions when the pronouncement was made.
"It was not your place to kill the demon king. When the prophesized hero kills the demon king the land will experience peace and prosperity for the next millennia. Yet, war and famine ravages our land and destroys our people. You have robbed this chance from us. For your crimes, I banish you for a thousand years."
I felt my companions muscles tense under my hands, ready to argue. Ready to pull a sword. I grabbed their arm, firmly holding them in place. I gave a nod to the king and turned us around.
The moment we were out of the audience hall, Sarah turned on me with red eyes and bloody red lips, bit in frustration.
"We saved this country. They've been waiting for a hero for dozens of years now. The prophesy is pure wishful thinking. The land is poor because of the demon king's miasma. The famine persists because the land is poor. The wars continue because of the famine. The rulers fight over rocks while waiting for a blessing to fall from the sky upon them."
I gave a tight smile in response. "It's been a long journey, and it seems like this will be a longer journey, still. When I started this journey, I didn't set out to slay the demon king or to bring a thousand years of peace. I simply wanted to make things a bit better for the people. I think we've done that. The miasma should recede, which will help with the famine. I don't know how we'll deal with the wars and rules, politics hasn't been my domain, but we'll figure it out. Just like every difficulty we've met so far."
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(Just a friendly reminder I'm not a native English speaker)
After I defeated him... Lucas... I returned. Knowing my fate would be horrible. I had two good reasons to know this; the king would not like it. He was the prophesized hero, wich also was the reason of his power, his reason of being king. But he would never have done it. He would never have killed his own brother. And as his adviser and best friend, I knew he wouldn't. He even told me he couldn't. So I took his place, and it worked out. Now my punishment would be waiting.
After the long trip home, still wounded, with a broken arm and a horrible cut in my leg. I returned to the kingdom. Not fully sure if it would be my last time entering. I went directly to the castle. Knowing I had to tell him. He was my friend, he had the right to know. The guards told me he was in his bedroom. After some surprised looks from staff I reached his door. I knocked, and I entered.
It was cold in his room. The fireplace was dusty. He sat in a chair while reading. For a second he looked up at me. Then he returned to his book. 'Thomas I...'
'Let me finish my chapter' his words were cold, colder than the room, like ice stinging right through me.
After a few minutes of silence, he closed the book. The loud slam of the book hitting the floor filled the room. 'Where have you been.' He knew where I was, he just wished he didn't, he hoped I would just tell him I had been on a little vacation, with the wife and the kids. But he knew better.
I pulled a ring with a green emerald out my pocket and tossed it to him. His eyes filled with tears but his expression did not change. 'Why' he wisperd. 'You know why.' I made my voice sound as ferm as I could. Ignoring my nerves. One tear rolled over Thomas his cheek, then his expression changed to rage. 'YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO DO THIS.' I tried to keep my calm. 'I know, you were.' Guard entered the room. 'I want this man out of my sight, I don't care where you drop him. As long as he is not in my kingdom anymore.' They grabbed me under my shoulders. 'THOMAS NO, YOU KNOW I DID THE RIGHT THING!' I screamed, but he just sat down in his chair, picked up the book, and started reading again, now with tears rolling down his face.
(I would love some feedback, I normally don't write in English
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jtzvyti
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jtzimln
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[WP] You used to be the scourge of kingdoms, the reaper of heroes and the mere mention of your name scared even the toughest of them. But today no one remembers you and you are fine with that. You have lived in peace ever since until one day a stranger approaches you and calls you by your true name.
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“Lagus.” The name is a statement, but I don’t turn around, my beer paused on its journey to my mouth. “Lagus Oryn, don’t ignore me.”
I slowly lower the cup.
“Fine, I can wait. For a while,” the figure grabs the stool next to me and takes a seat. It’s a young woman, a girl really. Young enough that she shouldn’t be in a bar, definitely.
“Should you be drinking that?” I finally ask after the drains her second goblet without breaking her stare.
“Finally. A good ol’ binge drink usually gets you old farts talking,” she says, slamming down the empty goblet with a smile.
*Not human*, my instincts say. I’ve spent years in retirement, so the list of possibilities is foggy, drained away by disuse. *Elf, immortal child, nightwalker,* the list goes on.
“What do you want?” I ask, because I wouldn’t trust any answer it gave if I asked who it was.
“Well, me personally, I don’t want much. The heroes you’ve sent to the afterlife and their loved ones, however…” Instinct has me gripping my knife hilt, gathering the long slumbering magic in my blood. “Woah, calm down. I’m not threatening you. Believe me, when I threaten you, *you’ll know.”*
Panic pounds in my heart, a strange fear whispering *run, run, run* with every beat. Was it the discomfort of being discovered? Maybe partially, but I could always pick up and leave. No, it was this child, I decided. Something was off about her.
“You seem to mistake me. I’m calm, just prepared. Who has sent you?”
“No one, and quite a lot of people at the same time.” The child is smiling now, twirling a blade as she speaks, letting sink with a *thunk* every now and then into the table. “Believe me when I tell you it’s in your best interest to be honest with me.
“You’ve shed plenty of innocent blood, a little guilty as well. You tore through the people of the world seeking world domination, until your wife and child died on one of your campaigns. You hung up your whips and pokers and retired quietly to the countryside.
“Of course the power vacuum left by your disappearance lead to another hundred years of war, but what did you care? You needed to lick your wounds. You’ve been living a quiet life since. You wave to neighbors, you go to the local whorehouse when your bored, and you drink here.
“I could fill oceans with the women and men and, yes even children you’ve killed.” She stands from her seat, expression mysterious, eyes winking with light. “You’ve never admitted anything was wrong about your actions. ‘Good intentions,’ right? Not when you strung up that Elvish hero, not when you decimated an entire Aguan village and raped all their women and girls. Not when you still ask the women at the whorehouse to fight back… So, do you admit this, Lagus? How do you plead?”
The words won’t come out. How dare she? What does she mean plead? This child has come to judge me? What does she know of true pain?
I tighten my grip on my mug and stand, drawing power protectively to myself. My heart pounds.
“I’ve tired of your games. Goodbye.”
I make it to the door without incident and then my world stops, spinning. I turn back and the girl’s face is a skull, her black cape open to reveal twin scythe-like blades in her hands. A ticking clock booms, deafening and loud.
“Your time is up,” the girl says, walking toward me. I struggle, stuck to the ground. “Goodbye, Lagus. This won’t be a pleasant afterlife.”
|
##Human Nature
The old woman hobbled to the chess board in the middle of the park. The other tables were occupied with games, and she decided to wait. Eventually, someone would come, and they would grant her a game.
A confident young man walked towards her. She knew his type well. He thought she was merely a warm-up, an easy victory. He would be startled by her skill and grow to doubt his own knowledge. When the old woman won, his would walk away thinking it was a fluke.
"Hello Duena." The man sat down. Duena leaned back in her chair careful to avoid showing her surprise. She tilted her head at the man trying to figure out who he was.
"Have we met before?" She attempted to keep her guise as a sweet old woman.
"A long time ago. You may call me Liam. Is it alright if I go first? You historically came much later," he said.
"Did we meet at the grocery store two weeks ago?" Duena asked as she made her own move.
"We met at the market a long time ago. Rather, I saw you at the market. That was when few saw your face, goddess of destruction," Liam said.
"I never understood why I was singled out as a terror. The other death gods never acquired my reputation."
"Few enjoyed it as much as you."
"I never enjoyed it." Duena raised a hand and knocked over the king by accident. "The philosophers wrote me as gleeful, but I was merely fulfilling a role. You kill one person, and you are somber. I destroy civilizations, and I'm a raging monster."
"During the flood, I heard you laugh," Liam replied.
"Which flood? There have been so many?" Duena asked. The rain fell around them. "Ah, a touch dramatic are we?"
"You don't live as long as I do without fantasizing about revenge," Liam said.
"I suppose that's true. Many have tried to stop me, but they cannot. Let's keep playing," Duena said. Their game continued while everyone else went home. Duena was surprised to find herself losing. She attempted to sense the man's true nature.
"The other gods hated me for destroying their worshippers," Duena said.
"So I've heard."
"You never interacted with them?"
"Indirectly." Liam put her in check. Duena moved out and found her path to victory limited.
"You mentioned a flood. How long ago was this?" Duena said.
"Perhaps it was your first disaster. I'm not sure. Either way, my true language is unrecognizable to humans," Liam said.
"That's not difficult. They forget how they spoke two hundred years ago."
"You hate humans don't you," Liam asked. He moved his bishop. Duena stared at the board. She was three moves from checkmate, and there was no avoiding it.
"No, I don't. I told you that I'm necessary."
"I suppose you were necessary to create me."
"And what are you?"
"You were a war goddess, our war goddess until you realized the destructive force of nature. You harnessed it's power to destroy everything in your path. On your first flood, I was the only survivor. It was a sad and lonely life, but I pressed onward. I taught the rest of humanity to live and thrive. I went nameless though; I didn't brag like you." Liam moved his rook.
"I never bragged. If I bragged, would they forget who I was?"
"That was my doing. They turned me into a deity. I draw my strength their persistence. I suppose I should thank you. Every tragedy that you create adds to my power." Liam moved the queen. "Check mate."
Duena tossed the board off the table. "Why have you come here? Why not wait until later then?"
"Because I love the humans unlike you, I know your next plan. You've grown bored and want to move on. You will fail, but your disaster is to great that I cannot allow you to do so," Liam said.
"My plans have already been set into motion," Duena said.
"You didn't take into account for that." Liam pointed at the chains surrounding her.
"No one has achieved such a spell on me. Are you going to kill me?" Duena asked.
"You're too powerful, and you're correct. You are necessary." Liam stood up. "You're just trapped until I clean up your mess. Enjoy watching yourself fail." Duena spat at his feet.
"I never fail because the humans always fail."
"That's where you're wrong. The humans frequently fail, but they find ways to succeed." Liam walked away from the old woman.
---
r/AstroRideWrites
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jpxrsrp
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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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Listen. Everybody makes mistakes. I was young. I had ambitions. I genuinely thought what I was doing was right, though. I thought that by securing enough power I could mold the world into the utopian vision I'd always dreamed of. But I was blind. And my blindness led me to darker and darker places. Before long I had lost all sense of myself. My whole reason for being warped from ambition to frustrated rage as I battled my nemesis, Giga Fist. By the time they finally locked me up, I barely even knew who I was. My prison sentence may have been the best thing to ever happen to me. I learned a lot. Solitude gave me plenty of time to think. 5 years was a long time. It was supposed to be much longer. But after reaching out to my former foe and really getting to know each other, to my surprise Giga Fist actually advocated for my early release. Since then I've been on the straight and narrow.
I met Jodi 10 years ago and it was love at first sight. We married a year later and Alice was born 8 years ago. I swore the day she was born that I wouldn't let anything bad ever happen to her. Once again, I failed. A group run by one of the guys I used to work for snatched her from right under my nose. They wanted to force me back into the world I swore off. I haven't even found time to be mad at them because I was so angry at myself. That is, until now. Now, my rage is wholly focused on the 6 lackeys and their boss in the house in front of me. I haven't used my powers in 15 years. It was part of the stipulations of my release. But I'm about to break that rule. These goons are going to find out the hard way why they used to call me The Mind Melter. And to be honest, I don't think I'm going to feel bad about this.
(I realize now that the prompt specifies grandchild. Oops.)
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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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jq0lg9k
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jq0l1ho
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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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As I sat there in my rocking chair on the porch gumming at a stick of jerky, no teeth means no chewing but fuck it, its tasty. The police officer spoke to my little Trish about the ransom demand and told her that their policy was to never give in to it.
I pull the stick of softened jerky from my mouth. “How… much is the ransom?” I ask, my voice slightly wobbly as the effort to speak pushes my weak throat to its limit.
“About 50 thousand ma’am.”
“Pay it and get my grandchild back.” I tell them before sticking the jerky back in my mouth.
“That's not how it works ma’am, there needs to be rounds of negotiations. We will get your granddaughter back safe and sound.”
“Before…before or after…they send her fingers or ears?” I ask.
The ignorant officer pales slightly, right he’s probably too green to be anything more than a messenger. “Trish, could you bring me…my note book and a phone?” I ask. She nods and shouts inside for her husband to do the job for her before turning to the police.
“Tell me what you know and I’ll make arrangements. I’ll get her back safe and you can get your.”
“Ma’am we know you were a hero but all due respect. You're 50 and your powers have faded.”
“And I'm 90 but you don't see me sitting around doing nothing.” I grumble but they ignore me leaving me to think, well actually I am sitting around and it does look like I'm doing nothing.
“Here you go Nala.” Trish’s husband says, coming out and handing me his mobile phone and my old leather bound notebook. I flick through it, glad that my eyesight hasn’t gone the same way my knees and teeth have. I find the number and using the phone carefully put the digits in and hit dial.
It rings twice as usual before it gets answered. Old cunt never EVER missed a call, but he always let it ring a little so you had the impression he didn't have a 0.01 second reaction speed. “Yes?”
“My granddaughter… has been kidnapped.” I say cursing my old body for needing to break IN a sentence.
“I know, now. What do you want? You don't have any favours left.” he says.
“Where.” I start to ask whilst looking at the officers, they’re ignoring me so I ignore them back. Meanwhile the old cunt on the phone is prattling off longitude and latitude
“3015 by 2899. She’s in a warehouse…you want a post code I assume? I should remind you of the effects of actually using your power.”
“Yes I know…Charlie died two years…”
“My condolences”
“My daughter has her family now too.”
“I know, I kept a tab on her, advised a number of possible threats not to mess with her.” Analogue, the old cunt, replies.
“Did you ever had a kid?”
“I tried…BT13, 3JY” he said and the phone screen changed showing a map with a helpful red dot roughly 20 miles away in the city.
“Then you might know why I’ve decided to do what i'm about to do.” I say hanging up the phone and placing both my arms on the chair and pushing myself up to my feet.
“Trish…” I say but she ignores me, now shouting at the police man and demanding they send in a super to save her child.
“Trish.” I say as loudly as I can causing her to pause before rushing over to hold me up.
“Mum you cant just get up like that, you know you need your frame.”
“Shut it and help me onto the lawn…I don't want to burn your porch.” I tell her.
“But…you’ll”
“Yea, I know dear, but Charlie's gone and he won't mind waiting for me. But Anastasia has her whole life ahead of her.” I say as she half walks half carries me down the steps past the confused police officers and onto the grass of the garden.
I turn to them and ask them “did you ever learn about the Avatar?”
“The Villain? Yea, elemental power profile, ranked strongest for 30 years straight then out of nowhere vanished. People think they struck a deal with the government and set up a new life.” one of the officers says. “Why do you ask.”
“What do you think the Avatar would do if they found out their grandchild was kidnapped before her powers could manifest.”
The two officers look at each other and frown. Meanwhile my daughter lets go of my hands and steps back. I look at her and nod before straightening my curved back. Bones creak and pop as they settle in place, willpower forcing them to work properly for the first time in a decade.
My hips and knees pop next as I stand up straight and summon the power I promised never to use again. Not because it was terrible devastating and destructive. No there was always something in the world that needed dealing with and flattening everything in the vicinity tended to send the correct message, although sometimes I had to leave a smoking crater to really hammer it home.
I watched as my hands burst into flames that turned from a relatively cold red to an intense white flame before vanishing entirely to pure to emit any visible light, only the heat haze warning of the danger around me now. The skin underneath quickly transformed into dirt before the dirt transformed into grey stone then white marble before transmuting back into smooth translucent skin. I could feel my bones doing the same except with steel. My organs likewise were reborn. I stood there wreathed in starfury hovering slightly above the charred earth naked and in the body I had 70 years ago when I met Charles in a bar.
Well almost, the shape was right but with my power fully active I didn't resemble a human as much as a field of stars in the shape of a human, man I forgot what great tits I had. “I’ll bring her home.” I say gently, my voice louder and clearer than it has been in years.
My daughter looks at me with a fierce pride in her eyes. It was me or her and we knew it could have been her. BUT... She had her loving husband to grow old next to, her daughter and new son in law to dote on and so on. I turned around and flew off towards my granddaughter.
A few minutes later I left the mile deep crater with her tucked in my arms. I could already see the news reports. The thought actually made me smile. I thought of Charlie and how long it would be until I saw him again. Then I looked at my granddaughter holding on tightly but otherwise unharmed. Sorry my love. We’ll see each other soon. But perhaps not that soon. the world might not want its Avatar but until my family doesn't the world just has to suck it up.
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-PART 1-
Dawn breaks as you return to your home. Modest, out of the way, and unremarkable to most. The garage door closes behind you, and you rearrange the various yard tools hanging on the wall until the floor of the garage opens, revealing a dimly lit and narrow staircase. You descend sluggishly, you aren’t in the shape you used to be. Muscles ache, joints snap and crack. “Is that blood? Did I get stabbed?” you muse as you inspect the blood on your fingers.
The room where you have stored your old outfits and equipment is musty, you don’t come down here very often, not since the war ended almost 30 years ago. You wonder why you kept any of this stuff at all, given how drastically your life changed when the Earth was invaded, but in this moment, you are grateful to your younger self for not getting rid of it. The memories of your old life help keep you on the new path you chose so long ago. You changed for the better, even if you are technically still wanted by every government on the planet. The verbal free pass given to you by the head of the UN and the remaining heroes in “The Order” was all you needed to graciously take your leave and not cause trouble ever again. You married not long after that, a super powered eco-terrorist who had also reformed and was granted leniency. Her name was Gaea. She had the most peculiar powers, on the surface none were very useful for anything, good or evil. She just wanted to protect the earth.
As you remove your suit and check for the source of the blood, the sound of a vehicle pulling in to your driveway above catches your attention. “It can’t be Elizabeth, she’s at her sisters house still” you mutter quietly. The car turns off, the door opens and slams shut, the sound of footsteps lead off towards the front stoop. ‘DING’ “Definitely not Elizabeth, she wouldn’t be so impatient as to ring her own doorbell when her child and grand children were missing.”
You dress hurriedly, annoyed that you didn’t uncover the wound you probably have but can’t feel anymore. All of those battles, all of those injuries, all of those close escapes with nothing but your life. It’s a wonder you’re still in one piece, much less up and moving around. Up the stairs and in to the house through the garage, you make your way to the front door. A figure darkens the side light, familiar but indiscernible. A deep exhale escapes your mouth as you place your hand on the door handle and pull the door open.
The figure on the stoop turns to face you. “Augustus, right?” The man extends his hand in greeting. “Y-yes? May I help you?” You take his hand in yours, noticing the strength he clearly carries. ‘I hope he’s as cautious as his father with all of that power’ you think to yourself.
“You knew my daddy, didn’t you?” His accent betrays his heritage. Clearly the boy grew up with his mothers family down in the parishes and swamps of Louisiana. The coupling of his parents was one of chance and passion, after all the world WAS ending. 'Shame they didn’t stay together, they would have made a beautiful family.'
“I knew his commitment to justice. One might even call it a slavish devotion to righting wrongs and protecting the innocent.”
The man lets a short chuckle slip out. “Yeah, there was nothing that could keep him from chasing a bad guy. Not even me! He was one of a kind.”
“Indeed, he was. That being said, how might I help you?”
“Do you mind if I come in, smells like you have coffee going in there.”
The man was correct, the coffee machine had begun brewing a few minutes before you returned home. You pause, glancing back towards the kitchen. “Uh, I wasn’t really prepared for company this early in the day, but alright. Please come in.” You lead your guest towards the kitchen and gesture at the table. He takes a seat facing a bookshelf covered in family photos and memorabilia. You pour two cups of coffee and prepare his with two sugars, no cream. You recall that his father was lactose intolerant. ‘Poor bastard’ you think to yourself.
You turn and present the young man his coffee. “Sugar, no cream.”
“Just the way daddy liked it. You really did know him well, which means you know a fair bit about me, I reckon.”
“If I am mistaken, have all the cream you’d like!” You nervously chatter while pointing to the fridge.
“No, no, I’d be on the toilet for hours and in truth probably ruin the plumbing of this nice little house you got here.” He smiles and sips on his coffee. “Not bad, but then again as dad used to say, ‘There’s no such thing as bad coffee after a hard days work.” There is a perceivable angst behind those words. A life spent with unfulfilled desires for a fathers affection.
“The man had a penchant for decaf, and given his abilities I’d say that was probably wise. He didn’t so much as even look at alcohol, not like the other heroes back in our day.”
The man lowered his gaze and his lips flatten out. “Hey are you bleeding?” He points to your leg, a small amount of blood has soaked through your bathrobe and dripped on to the floor.
You resist the urge to give in to the distraction, “So, again, I must ask, what brings you to my home at this early hour…”
“Malcolm, sorry, names Malcolm.”
“Malcolm! You lead the Lawmen, if memory serves, just like your father did. I must admit I don’t keep up much with the current rosters of heroes and villains anymore. What do they call you in the field?”
“Achilles. I don’t much care for it, but at this point in the game its too late to rebrand. I’m stuck with it.”
You nod graciously, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Achilles.”
“Likewise, Black Kyte.”
Your back straightens as you feel your pulse quicken, that name hasn’t been uttered out loud in this house in decades. Your gentle demeanor becomes a stern gaze. He clearly knows everything, its easy to presume he’s here about the events of the preceding days.
“Have you heard of a fella by the name Aldrich?”
The jig is up. He knows what you did.
“There’s clearly no point in playing coy, I killed him. And his pathetic minions.”
Shock covers the mans face, not expecting a confession, much less such a straightforward one.
“’Killed him’ seems a bit of an understatement. That scene was the stuff of nightmares!”
“What can I say, when something is personal like what happened between he and I, I decided to take the gloves off.”
“Personal? How the hell do you even know that guy? Our intelligence says you haven’t left this county in eight years, and he’s never been to this part of the country. He’s not even in the same category of villain that you were. He’s all bravado and destruction, you were singular in your purpose, SURGICAL! You made sure collateral damage was always kept to a minimum, one of the few things you can be commended for given all the heinous shit you did back in the day!”
“He was a mid-level villain with delusions of grandeur” you say exasperatedly. “He wanted to make a name for himself, jump up in the rankings. Make the “Big Board” that you heroes keep in that ridiculous compound of yours.”
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lt8ly53
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lt83e12
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[WP] “Uhh, why is the barbarian holding a skillet?” “Oh, he thinks he’s a wizard, and that skillet is the focus for his spells, like a wand.” “He has spells?” “Just one spell. Except, it’s really just him smacking someone in the head while shouting ‘I CAST IRON!!’ It’s actually rather comical.”
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Stront is the son of an orc chieftain Tront and human anthropologist, Fian Dossey, whom had infiltrated the orc tribe to research for her doctoral thesis, compensating for her disregard of personal safety with grey body paint and prosthetic tusks. Stront, unaware of his half human heritage, nevertheless inherited the kinder, more jovial demeanor of his matrilineal line, largely in part to his mother's influence. Fian tragically died ^(1) when he was but a child, however her influence remained on him through the rest of his life. Tront, left as inconsolable as an orc could be rationally expected to be, continued to tolerate Stront's presence as a reminder of his strangely un-warlike mating partner.
While Stront grew strong and became a talented warrior in his own right, he never thirsted for raiding and killing like his clanmates, preferring to stay behind during these offensive raids and tend to the stewpot. A hot meal often stayed the ire of his evil brethren for not participating in the raids, but they never could truly understand why he didn't revel in their raiding as they did.
Shortly after the death of his father, Stront was grievously injured^(2) in a skirmish with a rival Orc band. The clan left him on his own to recover, telling him to follow the direction of the the setting sun^(3) to find their next camp.
Stront clung to life, and while still injured made attempts to find his clan. However they all resulted in him returning time and time again to the battleground where he fell and was left behind^(4). He realized that his failure in battle caused him to become cursed, never to rejoin his family. He decided that if he could not live a life with his clan, he would at least not live a life in solitude.
His new life was now one of a wanderer, travelling from village to village, offering his services as a cook or handy-orc in every tavern and work camp that he could find. As often as not, many villages needed his prodigious strength and prowess as a fighter more than they needed a meal. Eventually, after helping a small village deal with a goblin problem, and cooking an (uneaten) feast of goblin skewers for the locals, the village blacksmith gifted Stront a device with which he could both cook succulent meals, and defend himself in times of need.
> "Waht is dis thing, 'smith?"
> "T'is a cast iron pot Stront. I've attached a chain so you can hang it over a fire to cook your 'stews'. I suppose you could swing it 'round your head if you needed to cave some skulls in though."
> "I can cast iron wit' dis? Dat's incredible power!"
At this moment, Stront realized that he was no mere camp cook, a fighter of fights and cooker of cook-things. He was in fact a conjuror of meals, an orc that could cast iron to conquer both his foes and his food, a master tactician that could harvest ingredients while he reaped souls in the farm fields of battle.
He had fulfilled his destiny. Stront had become the *War Chef*.
*(1) Fian ironically was not discovered and killed by the orcs, but rather by a rival anthro-biologist Herm Gorbling, who was capturing and dissecting male/female pairs of what he considered to be the "evil" races, in the hopes of discovering a biological root of evil nature. Unknowingly dissecting a human course created substantial disparities in his research ultimately causing his funding to be revoked.*
*(2) He was actually stabbed in the back by his own clanmate. Tired of his strange notions of "cooking meat" and "making plans before a fight", they wanted to dispense with Stront as soon as possible.*
*(3) This was a lie, as they just went North.*
*(4) Wanting to make up for lost time Stront decided to start following the setting sun first thing in the morning. This had the obvious effect of him circling back on his own trail once the noonday sun passed overhead.*
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This reminds me of a Pathfinder game I'm current in, currently close to level 15 Monk of the Mantis.
--------------------------
The combat begins. Victory is assured, I knew this. I am a Master of the Shadow Fist style. The style of True Death. The greatest and most feared of the Tian styles, a deadly and precise mix of Mantis and Crane, along with several killing arts known only by a few.
Even if this was not enough, my companions are beyond powerful as well. Tita, the Druid, who I once saw conjure an entire herd of Elephants to trample down a small army. Illum, the Magus, who I once saw vaporize an enemy with a lightning bolt in a single motion. Ketch, the little Gnome Bloodrager who possessed a fortitude I could only call supernatural. Even my mastery of death could barely scratch that tiny man. Even if I had slept, victory was certain. But I was not sleeping. I was wide awake.
My leg muscles tense. I glare, focusing, my Ki infused blood singing in my ears. I take a deep breath. In a single step I bolt forward, a blinding white flash through the air as I appear beside my adversary, some...devotee to the god of rot and sickness. I cared not. She was speaking, some big speech. Her pride was matched only by her insanity. She was some forty feet away. She 'knew' she was safe, far to distant for one to close the distance without giving her a chance to retaliate. Fool. Death has come and it takes not the form of your God of Rot, but of the true path to power, the path within.
I move so swiftly, she doesn't notice I'm beside her until it's to late. Everyone and everything else moves so slowly to me now. I can see only the slightest bit of her eyes starting to widen as she realizes I've already approached before I strike. My flattened hand and unbreakable fingers strike precisely, her left shoulder, a bundle of nerves that paralyze. My prey will not escape. First Strike. I then strike at a pressure point just under her left ribs. No more breathing. Second Strike. Another at her neck, to disrupt blood flow. Third Strike. Again, and again, and again. I do not stop. One, two, three, four, five, sixseveneightnine....Ten.
I stop then. Standing perfectly still, the tip of my fingers pressed against her chest, just over her heart. I finally exhale. Only 6 seconds have passed since I stepped forward. She goes to speak. To breath. To cast or retaliate, but instead, she only sputters a torrent of blood. She collapses to the ground. Dead.
I stand and ponder for a moment. My mastery grows. Others consider adherents of my school 'battle fanatics' always looking for the next challenge, the next obstacle to mastery. They do not understand that only in the fires of single combat can...
*SMACK*
Tita smacks Sota across the side of the head, causing him to almost topple over. She glares at her fellow Tian, the blue skinned Samsaran looking quite frustrated. "What the fuck was that!?"
Sota blinked. "What? Fight started, I killed her. The end." Illum and Ketch both shake their head at his response. "What do you mean!? We just saw a flash and then you were next to her and then she died! Explain!" Tita yelled at him further. "Why was she coughing up blood?!"
Sota rubbed at the spot that Tita struck. She was rather strong actually. He explained calmly. 'I used the shadow fist style to disrupt her inner ki flow and destroy her from the inside."
This time, Tita blinked. "So you touched her once, then her ORGANS EXPLODED!?"
Sota nodded. "I actually hit her ten times, but effectively, yes."
Tita stared blankly for several moments, but before she could continue yelling, they both heard Ketch burst out laughing. Sota could swear he saw the normally sauve and cool Illum smirking as well. Ketch spoke finally. "Remember way back in the day, when he got jealous of being the only one who didn't know or understand magic, so he punched that Dire Lion while shouting 'I cast fist!'"
Sota's cheeks burned slightly at the memory. Before he could speak, Illum did. "As I recall, that Lion died as well. Instantly." He said in his calm, even tone.
Tita scoffed again. "How is hitting someone and then making their organs explode not magic exactly?"
Ketch shrugged as Sota finally spoke up. "It's not magic! It's a simple case of physical training and Ki Discipline! That's all."
Tita stared blankly at him for several seconds. "You are so weird. Come on, help me loot already. And tell us next time before you cast Fist on someone."
Sota opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it and went to help them gather up the valuables. Ketch looked to Illum. "Hey, Illum, go cast Loot."
Illum groaned. "Shut up Ketch."
Sota liked his party.
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loityxo
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loifflc
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[WP] You pretend to be a small-time villain. At most, you annoy the local supers but your crimes never hurt anyone. To you it's all good fun. Things change when a truly sadistic super villain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.
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"Aha! But you forget! I have the power of my Freeze Ray!" I cheered at the hero.
They played their part and smirked. Many were watching from the sidelines, as I cutely raised the contraption that looked like a glue gun, but used ice cubes instead of glue sticks. Legs spread apart, held with both of my grubby little child hands, I squeezed the handle more than I squeezed the trigger.
A ray of blue clouds lazily drifted forward like the spray of water from a passing water ride flew out from it, and the hero merely blew a raspberry back at me.
It was all so childish! It was just kids having fun with make-believe powers that happened to be true.
I found myself restrained in the ice. "Oh, boo!" came my catchphrase, pouting up at the hero who looked down at me.
"Alright, Maggy, time to call it quits. Ain't no one sneakin' a cookie from the cookie jar while I'm on watch!"
"It's not Maggy!" I laughed up at-
Suddenly his head was blown off. My pout became confused.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
I looked at the shooter. He looked like some sort of cyborg, but with necromancer vibes. "I have come to claim this land for the Emperor. Resist if you must. All will be converted in time."
To prove his words, he threw a face hugger-like robot drone into the air, which landed on the now dead form of the hero on the floor.
The body jolted in seizure as nanobots injected themselves into his body, and within seconds, began to stand up and become much like the cyborg corpse that killed him.
I pouted once more, "That's not how you play the game!"
The cyborg undead might have responded, but I decided enough was enough.
I imagined the scene going differently.
Time rewound.
"-lright, Maggy, time to call it quits. Ain't not one sneakin' a cookie from the cookie jar while I'm on watch!" he repeated himself, like an actor in a play. His smirk was the same. The look in his eyes was not, as he remembered dying.
"It's not Maggy!" I laughed up at him. "It's Imajin!"
Then I had the new play buddy come in. "I am designated Mark 7, series 49," he introduced himself, as all villains should. "I have come to take over this town in the name of the Emperor!" he continued, for the benefit of the spectators wondering why he was here.
The spectators... I looked at them, remembering they were there. The hundreds of people just going about their day seemed worried at first, but after seeing that the hero was fine, merely shrugged it off.
The hero paused, unsure of his line for a moment, but looked at me, so I fed him an angle. "I don't know him! Why do you think I know him? We don't look anywhere near related!"
I could see the cyborg struggling to do anything at all under my power, but it wasn't his turn, yet.
The hero caught on quickly, and said, "Well, you can't have a cookie either," he said half-bravely, half confused. "You'll have to wait your turn."
I caught the subtle hint. My smirk let out just a hint of my fangs for a moment, before they reformed into perfectly cute, almost cartoonish teeth.
"A cookie? I want all of this town!" the half-alive construct complained like a sunday cartoon villain. Same tone and everything.
All was as it should be.
Just fun and games.
Harmless fun.
No harm at all.
|
"The heroes and i,had had a friendly relationship at times. really my journey into so called villainy, started with My youngest sons Milos 6th birthday,him and his friends wanted it to be super hero themed,so i dawned my pirate suit,i haven't worn,in years,since i was captain of the Infamous Black rose pirates,i want to say,it was down in greece? or maybe spain,i dont really rember,it was 300 or so years ago now,but ill never forget ol lucy,my first mate,i met her when she was but a lass of 14,and she stole from me,.'
"but that's not what this story is about. see for years,i played the local villain,for a bunch of local super heroes,of various ages. Dragon of winter they called me.,i would do petty tricks,small snow storms,petty freezing of pipes and such,but id never hurt anyone and id always reverse the damage i did when the kids caught me. I've lived for many years now. I've traveled around the world and back,i spent time all over. but i had finally settled down once again. all the kids knew me by name,it didn't matter if i was a so-called villain,the parents and kids were happy ,and having fun,isn't that what's important?"
"i was at work in the office,and going over some reports,when a speical news brodcast from the heros went out.it was strange as it was a level 32 alret,the higest level they had,so i stopped and watched.,and what i saw... ill never forget. No parent should ever have to bury their child... but that day... ill never forget,the anger,the pure hatrad i felt for that bastard. the one they call the Blod viper,a brutal bastard,who has no moral compas."
*Special news report Blood viper Brutally murdred and torutred the local super hero team night owls,live on telvison,and carved their hearts out,daring anyone else to challange him,as he laughs a wicked laugh*
"when i saw the report,my heart sank,i prayed i was wrong.... but later,when i got home,Lucian,One of Milos friends parents,who works as a cop,informed me,milo was their... fighting for his life... and he passed away. on that day,hearing those words,my heart hardend once again,and it took me back to when i served over seas.. i dawned an old uniform with various tabs of elite forces ,and i let out a roar of anger,as i look to a picture of milo and his mom*
"im sorry,i wasnt able to protect him.... but i will avange him."
*i put out a chllange to a duel to the death for blood viper,many news comapnys and reporters came and looked at the situation,blood viper just laughed at seeing me,dressed in a t shirt,and shorts,*
"so your the so called villan who chllanged me? i beat the hero league and i heard your more a prankster then an actual villan,so what are you going to do about it,weakling."
*My eyes flash with an anger and fire they havent flashed with,in years,as i spoke calmly,yet the power and tension behind my words could be felt,as the very air shook*
"You killled,innocent children... who wanted to make this world a safer place. You really think just because im called a tristicker ,i am? i only did that for the children,and the local heros. it kept them safe from people like you."
*he waves his hands,as spirits of the dammend and demons of death appear,and he ties blood viper in chains as he tries to run*
"My true power,is far beyond,what they saw or know. today im going to make an example of you. milo was only 15,and he had a kid on the way. i dont agree with it. but you took away that chance,now your sins have caught up."
*Everyone watches in stuned silence as The person they thought was a low tier villain,brutally punished blood viper,and once he was done torutring him,he summoned a sword of Hellfire and ice,and split him in 2,*
"i lived a life to protect my sun,and then you did this. you pushed me to far."
*he says,as he burns the body and as his spirt leaves,the other spirits and demons drag it deep to the depths of hell*
*he looks up to the sky*
"dont worry son,after this,no one,hero or villan will bother your unborn child,or your girlfriend. you have my word,ill protect them. hopefully one day,we can meet again,at the gates."
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loj0to2
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lohwwr9
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[WP] You pretend to be a small-time villain. At most, you annoy the local supers but your crimes never hurt anyone. To you it's all good fun. Things change when a truly sadistic super villain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.
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(Sorry for any spacing and formatting problems, typed this on my phone)
Aidan Maxwell, villain callsign "Lightwave." He was in the middle of his normal hijinks, making people think they're losing it by moving things around without anyone seeing him, taking things and framing others for the infractions to start minor quarrels, and at the very worst nipping in and out of bank vaults to steal enough cash for rent and groceries. He really didn't have a grand plan - he just wanted to live and let live. There were even times when he used his powers to help - stopping a stroller from rolling away, returning a dropped bag, providing a subtle redirect between an inattentive phone-watcher and possible injury
Most days, the heroes didn't even know he was there. This was by design. He could bend light and had grown to the point that he did it without even thinking about it. Two of them, Sadie and Howard Porter, the twins Double Vision, could see through his illusions. When push came to shove, they usually just gave him a stern talking-to. When it came down to it, they were the closest things Aidan had to friends.
News of their sudden and brutal demise at the hands of some new upstart, calling himself Lucifer with no sense of irony or self-awareness, did not leave Lightwave particularly happy. This new, exceedingly powerful villain had torn through the national hero team with wild abandon. He took all challengers who called him out, which was becoming a rarer commodity for him. It came as a shock when no-name Lightwave called him out, but he accepted the challenge all the same.
"I honestly have no idea who you are," Lucifer, a massive armored man, covered in more spikes than a porcupine and enough blades for a daytime shopping channel, "buuuut I figure it could be kinda fun to deal with a nobody villain, make an *example* of ya."
Lightwave stood half a block from the much larger man, slightly slouched, his light gray motorcycle jacket with a squiggly line stitched on its back to represent a wave of light, and seemed to the casual observer to be shrinking away from this terrifying beast, "You killed my friends. I haven't got many of those, y'know." The lights in the buildings nearby dimmed.
"Oh, I can see why, pathetic lookin' thing you are," His armor plates shook with his laughter, "I mean, what do you expect being so quiet and scrawny?"
"They were good people," The lights in the buildings died, "You killed a lot of good people."
"Yeah, I sure did," There was an audible smile in Lucifer's voice, "I think I'll fit a few more in when we're do-"
"You most certainly will not," Lightwave responded with absolute authority, cutting off and shocking the much-larger villain, "Tell me, do you know the actual etymology of your chosen name?" The lights across the entirety of the state dimmed, then winked out.
Lucifer stood taller, "Yeah man, the fuckin' DEVIL man! It's what I aim to-"
"It's Latin. Light Bearer, or Light Bringer. The latter being what I'd chosen for myself before I decided it was too much," The light for half an astronomical unit sputtered and died, "Everyone thinks my power is bending light, which is true to a point. I can manipulate and control photons. You are not walking away from this, you goddamn *monster*."
"Like hell I'm n-"
The sentence died in the air, as Lightwave crossed the entire distance between them in a fraction of a second, unleashing the full power of the light from the palm of his hand straight down on the top of the upstart's head.
Four minutes later, the sunlight managed to return to the Earth, illuminating a man walking from the shadow of monster burned into the melted asphalt.
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Part 1 of 2
The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of.
Pascal wrote as much. You're not certain what it was about, certainly something about God and faith. Not that it matters, the sentence stuck with you, and you agree. One shouldn't always look for reasoning, the absence of it explains so many things.
Streets built to accommodate traffic as if each driver was a droplet under the yoke of fluid mechanics; industrial zones separated from living areas to keep it all ordained and neat; motorways connecting farms to the concrete where people ate. It looks rational and sensible, and that is all it is. A pretense at common sense, just enough to keep the illusion alive; That mankind is, on a global and individual scale, dictated by science and enlightened.
As if.
You certainly believed so too, once. It's an architect's prerogative to think in right angles and load-bearing walls. Ah, the folly of youth. If only the old would recognize this folly and let go of it, but no, it appears you are cursed like Cassandra before you, to see and tell the truth and never to be believed. Then again, it's easier living in an illusion, they cannot be blamed.
"Any idea?" a voice asks behind you as you contemplate the body, warm blood seeps from a slit throat. There is a menacing tinge in the voice. They fear you, they know what you've done in the past, they know you are causing problems on the regular still. They also prefer the devil they know.
"I say we have a contender on our hands," you reply.
The victim was killed at home, a nice apartment up in a skyscraper with a fully-equipped kitchen open on a tasteful living-room and massive windows looking over the city. Hard to breach, some would say. Easy place to get isolated and far from help a killer would reply.
You recognize the method. Slick, efficient, driven.
Like you, once.
Young and brash, you were armored in the certainty of knowledge, wielding efficiency and reason as weapons. If only you were in charge, then things could finally go forward. Few agreed, it was a human right to choose for themselves, so they said, mistakes were part of growth. Mistakes were done aplenty over centuries, and still the world was on the brink of collapse. Choice is what brought us there, it was up to you to correct this mistake.
You never were a grand and powerful warrior. In truth, nobody is. Humans merely need to shape their hopes and fears in the plastic of heroes and villains. The stories are always grand and noble, unlike the truth, and these great figures often forgot that. You didn't. When they came for an honest duel, you trapped them in a burning building. When they came to save your hostages, they discovered they didn't want to be saved.
And when they tried to handle things like adults and pick you apart in a public debate, they discovered how you, unlike them, had a vision. And as blind humanity is to their own heart, they still wished for reason to rule them, and your vision had enough gold and right angles to make you beloved.
It isn't a fight under a thunderstorm that brought you to power, but a vision spoken on cameras. Heroes and villains, the concepts are outdated.
You worked hard. The world a mess to be remade, reorganized. The wealthy and inefficient saw their funds put to good use without their opinion. Clogged streets, like waterways, were reorganized to handle each droplet. The cities, like humans, perfected to get the world forward. No choice meant going up. And up it went. From the brink, each system, be they financial, human, or ecological, recovered and thrived.
Gorgeous, it was gorgeous. These moments when you could earnestly think *it's going to be alright*.
You're lost in the memory as you hound the killer. They are easy to track, they are like a younger you. There are a few misses in your hunt, murders you predicted not happening, for the killer had yet to perfect the method. You admire their will, their hope, their childish belief. Such a beautiful illusion. Age has ripped this illusion from you.
The killer may not reach that age. She stands before you, knife gleaming in the dark of an unlit alleyway. The sort of path one with good education wouldn't dare taking, and one with bad education has seen the danger of and avoids. The rain pours, the thunder roars, whatever happens, you and her are well and truly alone. No scream will be heard, no unlucky passerby will watch.
"I have a vision," you hear her say, it is the only justification she needs to lunge for your throat.
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j5ltstv
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j5lq8a6
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[WP] While sailing solo in the Pacific you respond to a signal fire on the beach of a deserted island and discover a marooned shipwreck survivor who has waited 15 years for rescue. A peculiar individual, when exploring the cave he lives in you find markings counting down the days until you arrive
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„I wish you weren’t so sad.“
The sentence cut through the silence like a hot knife through butter.
Wait. Did I say that out loud?
Everybody stared at me. First and foremost all the people who stood in the cue before me.
One wish per adult per year. Only granted if never asked before. Those were the rules. So people cued and went one at a time. Some friend of mine had jobbed here as crowdhandlers.
The genie actually never had set this system up, it just kind of happened as the ages went by, and no one had dared or cared to challenge the process. Well, at least until what just happened. Because of me. Oops.
In my Defense: I was not exactly in my best self. Having just turned 18 the night prior had left parts of my brain not quite up to the task.
„That wish has never been asked of me.“ the genie finally declared. With a smile.
Wait what?
My brain could not really comprehend what just happened. Did I just get my wish?! But that means …
„But we get like one wish each year?! No one ever asked you that?! How long have you been this miserable for?“ my hungover, still slightly drunk brain had no mind for the outraged pilgrims around me. This was my birthday, and if genie boy over there and I got along then I would make the most of it.
„I wish everyone who came for years, got multiple chances and never once thought about using a single one for you would lose their future wishes.“ I said with all the Sass I could bring up.
Brilliant. Everyone looked at me like I murdered some Kittens.
Idiots. The lot of them. Everyone knows. One try per year. I already had my shot. Even my messed up head could not forget that one. I waved like some royal, turned on my step and left the stage.
Or tried to.
„That wish has never been asked of me before.“
I stopped dead in my tracks.
Oops.
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"What did you wish for?" they would always ask, and I would simply smile.
It had been years since that day. Looking back through the memories of my life, I always marveled at the twists and turns my life had taken. Orphaned at only five months old. Foster parents murdered before I turned three. A solid decade of a downward spiral. Bad choices, the wrong kind of friends, drugs, delinquency. Court-mandated therapy that finally shook the grip of those early years.
Until I was seventeen, when Wit came back into my life. They had been the one who got me into drugs. They had been the one I first gave my heart to, along with my virginity. They had been the one who killed that crazy dealer who tried to drag me into an alley and rape me. They had been the one who left me for the cops to blame.
Wit had been everything wrong and everything right in my life, and they were back.
"Go to the genie," they told me, their eyes half-lidded in that try-to-make-me-care way. "Everyone does it. Go to the genie."
I knew it was a bad idea because Wit was the one telling me to do it, but I did it anyway. Therapy could fix a lot of things, but not who I was. At least, not fast enough.
The year with Wit hooked me with barbs. I said no to a god-damned lot. Said yes to a fair few. I loved Wit. I hated Wit. And the day I turned eighteen, I followed Wit up the mountain.
It had been years since that day. I now walk the world in freedom--free from my demons, free from my struggles, free from my past. When the petitioners at the base of the mountain saw the great beam of light shoot into the sky, they all marveled. They knew that the world would never be the same. For centuries, the genie had denied every wish. _Every wish can only be wished once_, they would always say, and so everyone left with nothing but the determination to try again next year.
But the beacon in the sky meant a wish had been granted. Whoever walked off the mountain would be famous. They would be hounded for all their life by those clamoring to know what wish had been so unique. It was a new era.
But I never told them. I could not lie, for I was bound to truth, and so every time they asked what I had wished for, I told them nothing. After all, I had not been the one to make the wish. I had merely granted it.
But Wit saw now that I was happy in a way they had never been able to make me. They knew something was up. And so Wit never gave up asking.
Even now, decades later, as Wit lay old and fragile on their deathbed, and I sat by their side as hale as I was in the days of our youth, they asked, desperate for an answer.
"What did you wish for?"
I simply smiled.
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jp0fiar
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jp0fgu8
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[WP] A kid losing a video game, and getting their big brother to beat it for them, as seen from an npc's perspective
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Not the pit again....this will be the 40th time today I'll have fallen into this pit and had to restart the level. The young one is fun to watch as he trys to navigate through the level his youthful exuberance refreshing and a reminder of why most of us enjoy what we do. But this pit was getting the better of him as the timing needed is precise. as he inched me closer to the edge...again. and i stop, aaaaand stay stopped i gaze out and behold that the controller of my fate had grown frustrated of our continued failures and wandered off. I really couldn't blame him. I to was tired of this view of the pit. Lost in my musings as i wondered how long I'd peer into the abyss until the one called mom would wander through see my peril, and turn off the connection between our worlds.
Into view he comes again, tugging on another being " i really need your help, please? Do this part for me? I'll leave you alone for the rest of the day." His eyes looked pleadingly at the being he was dragging into view. When i saw to whom he was pleading for aid from, I couldn't help but smile. It was his older brother. He and I had a long history of adventuring together. It'd been awhile. As he looked my way he also smiled." Ok, ok, ok. I'll get you to the next level." New vigor coursed through my body as he sat down and picked up our connection. i backed up from the edge preparing for a running jump. "Let's do this!" I thought as i sprinted toward another grand adventure.
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##Brothers in Arms
The gun ripped through my compatriots. Hordes of zombies emerged from the grave only to be sent back to the underworld. The hero unleashed a loud scream of power. The zombies got stronger, and the hero removed his armor. Their battle waged onward.
"Now, he's just showing off?" Eliza said from behind the tavern window.
"Is Danny or Brian in charge?" Peter asked.
"Well, he's defacing the corpse of an enemy so clearly it's Brian," Eliza said.
The ground shook beneath their feet. The dead dissolved into a primal ooze and collected in the middle of the city. A large snake rose from the ooze and bared its fangs. The hero produced a hatchet and charged.
"Well, looks like we'll be here a while," Eliza said.
"It's better than Chris. I was getting bored with him constantly dying," Peter said.
"I found his failures amusing. He got extremely close, and he still died," Eliza said.
"That was funny, but I want to go home. I can't do that until that stupid snake is vanquished," Peter said.
"Oh, the snake consumed him. Brian's probably pissed." Eliza closed her eyes. "I can hear him swearing as we speak."
"Is Chris yelling at his brother?"
"Yes, it's quite humorous."
"Is Danny getting involved?"
"No." Eliza's eyes shot open. "It sounds like he's on a date."
"What the hell?" Peter's eyes narrow, and his mouth opens.
"Yeah, he's on a date with a girl from his school."
"I refuse to believe it. No one who plays this game so many times is capable of flirting."
"Maybe he found another gamer. He always says he's the most attractive, and the other two don't debate him," Eliza said.
"That's not saying much."
"We haven't seen them."
"Nah, there's no way he's hot. He may be good at this game," Peter stopped. The hero revived and tore the zombies at an impressive rate.
"Oh, he came home early. The date went poorly," Eliza said.
"That makes perfect sense," Peter remarked. The snake began to form, but the hero tossed a grenade into it. The boss was destroyed before it struck. The hero grabbed the reward and ran.
"Finally, we can go home," Peter said.
"Bad news. Chris said he'll use these tips tomorrow," Eliza said.
"Crap. Well, I'll enjoy the night off. See you then."
---
r/AstroRideWrites
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kgsbi07
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kgrqnmn
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[WP] As you tuck your daughter into bed, she tells you that there's a monster in her closet. Thinking she's just being a kid, you open the closet to show her there's nothing there, but you instead find your daughter who tells you that there's someone in her bed.
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"Refill, hon?"
I held out my mug with a smile and replied, "You're a peach, Tina."
Tina the waitress topped off my coffee before stepping out from behind the counter with an order of chicken and waffles. "So, heard you threw down with Kestrel yesterday. What happened there?"
I chuckled through a mouthful of hashbrowns. "Guy tried to make off with a black-footed ferret from a national park the next state over. Knocked the bastard out of the sky and returned the little fuzzy thing back home."
Tina cackled in the middle of dropping off the order. "A ferret? Really??"
With a shrug, I answered, "It's an endangered species, and folks will pay through the nose for exotic pets. Honestly, I feel like just getting a standard ferret from a pet store and putting dye on its paws would've been much less of a hassle."
"Well hey now, don't give me any ideas. Last thing I need is for you to take me down to the station."
"Oh please, like I'd do anything to risk my access to Johnny's pancakes."
Johnny saluted me through the hole to the kitchen as I savored my cup of joe, the steam fogging up my glasses in the way I liked. But no sooner had I fallen into a state of serenity did a resounding *BOOM* echo in the far distance, followed shortly by a column of emerald light right in the middle of the street. With an exasperated sigh, I turned around to see a seven-foot tall titan in black and red armor, clutching a woman in tattered silver robes by the throat as several other people in costumes lay scattered about with bruises aplenty.
Tina poked her head up and confusedly remarked, "What the hell're the Headliners doing here?"
I put a twenty on the counter and pushed a tiny button on my glasses, covering the lenses in a high-strength windshield. "Guess my break's over."
I stepped out of the diner just as Sun Sage was thrown at me. I slowed her down to about a quarter-mile an hour before grabbing her, setting her on the ground and asking, "Fill me in, if you'd be so kind."
Sage looked at me with annoyance before responding, "He's called the Black Beast. He's a gladiatorial champion from the other end of the Andromeda galaxy. I tried teleporting him and the Headliners to an unpopulated area, but the spell got interrupted and we ended up here. Goes without saying, but you're not a match for him."
"Yeah yeah, big man's gonna get his teeth kicked clean through his skull, but what can he do exactly? Any sort of healing factor?"
"No. Seriously, Clutch, leave this to the profes--"
I flicked Sage's ear. "My town, Sunny. I handle this."
I left Sage and strolled up to the Black Beast as he lifted Machinist by the head. I tapped his leg a few times and whistled loudly. "Son, I'm gonna have to ask you to let go of the man."
Black Beast whipped around and looked down at me with an obvious sneer in his tone as he growled, "And who exactly are you, little girl? Another wannabe hero?"
"Name's Clutch. I'm not the law around here, but I do have a vested interest in making sure this place stays standing."
Black Beast dropped Machinist on the ground and turned to face me. "I've beaten the greatest warriors from seven different galaxies. I have cracked open meteors with a single strike. My armor is forged by the flames of a dying star and christened with the blood of my father. What can you possibly hope to do?"
I smirked. "Well, since you asked so nicely."
A sound like ball bearings in a sack split the air. Black Beast looked down and saw ice rapidly spreading along his legs like a hungry parasite. "How are you --"
*BANG BANG BANG*
Black Beast fell to the ground screaming as three bullets tore through his legs, shattering them like glass. I blew away the smoke from my revolver and holstered it before touching Black Beast's forehead with a cheeky, "Annnnd pause!"
Black Beast froze in place, his scream getting cut off as I fished a piece of bubble gum from my jacket and turned around to face a bewildered Sage. "I can hold that for about an hour, so you better get something to hold this guy."
Sage glanced between me and Black Beast rapidly before slowly asking, "What did you...do?"
"Slowed down the molecules in his body until he froze, and then put his body into a neutral state so he can't move under his own power."
"How--but you--you just make bullets fly faster!!"
I grinned and popped the gum in my mouth. "Now where'd you get the *crazy* idea bullets was all I could affect?"
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Tucking in a small patch of chew into my lip I looked up at the once beautiful Mount Yorklin. Named after the small town below, founding father. On the side of it were thirty or so drones drilling away at the cliffside, welding large steel beams in for support. Near the foot of the mountain, standing a few mule steps over was Dark Ferocity. A man who my counter parts in the inner city had said was the most ruthless and diabolical man to ever live. They would tell stories of how they narrowly evaded death from his attacks and traps. Always with a "You wouldn't understand, seeing your biggest threat is that alligator guy." comment.
I slowly walked up to him, my hands in my pockets. I wasn't like the rest of them, never had a super suit. Thought it was too cliche to wear one, plus who in their right mind wears their underwear on the outside. "Seems, like we got a new neighbor in these parts." I say giving the man a small wave as I approached. "Though, I would have preferred you hadn't chosen such a historically significant mountain to claim as yours." I added now standing near the man.
He turned, giving me the look, that the supers described as the last chance you would get to run away before he would attack, "Not that it matters to you, but I paid good money to buy this mountain." He said reaching behind his back, "Specially to some small time super from the boonies."
I smile and raise my hands, "Wo now, not trying to pick a fight. I know you paid good and well to build your new lair here. I'm on the board of directors for the town. Just wanted to come see how things were going for ya'" I say, I could since the technology he had, some sort of ray for dematerializing organic matter. I give a quick snort before spitting out a little bit of the chew build up, but also to fry the motherboard of the gun making it useless if he tried to fire it at me. "Also, just wanted to see what business you were going to have. I really don’t mind taking your money, but I rather not get the local population in harm’s way if you decide that you want more land, and we say no."
He scoffed and slid his hand back out, "This is a first, a super who wants to talk sense rather than punch first. The building is slow right now, wasn’t expecting there to be such hard material in the mountain. So, it'll take some more time for my bots to get through them. As for the locals, you need not worry. I was just tired of the supers destroying my bases in the city." He said a bit warmer, "That is until they find out about this one." He said with a sigh.
"Well, they'll find out eventually. Rules of the Hero's organization states I need to inform them of any lairs that form with in my district of protection. So, they'll know you're out here. Though, that does mean I have full authority to be the one that dismantles this base of yours if I see that it's a threat." I say as I move up next to him and stand with my hands in my pockets. "So, what do you plan on doing here. Gonna build a death ray that will target a city miles away?"
He gave a laugh, "Nothing of the sort actually, I plan to continue my research into dark matter. I hope to find a fuel to get me through the cosmos and away from these inadequate human minds." He fully laying out his plans to me, his tone as though I wouldn't understand him at all.
"Reasonable goal I see. Well, so long as I don't sense any machines of destruction being built or feel that a meltdown from your inadequate builds is going to happen. I'll stay out of your hair. Just don't be stealing nothing from the locals to help build these things." I say and turn my heals to leave, throwing back his own words at him. "Also, we do a potluck on Thursdays at the church, make sure to bring something." I say waving my hand up over my head. "Just don't bring a peach cobbler or you'll make enemies of Old Miss Jackson. Trust me, that is not a lady you wanna cross."
(ten years later at the hero council)
The man with a giant Y across his chest threw his fist into the table once again, "How! How in ten years have you let his base build and not gone in to investigate it. This is why I say I need to take over his district, the hillbilly hasn't done a thing or stopped this mad man from building what he's building." Yankeedoodle yelled with a murmur of agreement from about the table.
I leaned back in my chair, eating out of a Tupperware bin of an apple backed ham that I've grown to love. "Well for one, ya'll got that guy figured out all wrong. He was just defending himself." I say putting another piece of ham in my mouth. "Also, he's not a bad guy once you get to know him. He mostly keeps to himself and hasn't bothered anyone in my district at all. In fact, he's helped some of the local farmers by building some automated machines." I say pointing my fork at Yankeedoodle.
It was then that Mrs. Law stood, slamming her gavel down. “As the rules state, if the super in the district is unable to control the villains in it. Then the council will see fit to move another super into that district. As far as we are concerned Yankeedoodle. You’re still having problems with some Alligator guy in your sewers.”
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j9mmyee
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j9mg8cy
|
[WP] 1000 years ago when you found out you were living in a simulation, you managed to break out of it into the real world. 982 years ago you discovered that the "real world" is the dream of a space entity. Now, after breaking through over 500 layers of "true realities", you recall old memory.
|
As I drift off into the void of yet another space between dreams, I take the time to wonder about all the moments that led me to decry the reality around me…
It all seemed so innocuous at first, the subtle patterns that seemed to echo across the data sets and defy the reality of quantum mechanics and the standard model of physics. The pattern was simply too repetitive to be anything but a traces of a compression algorithm to reduce the information density of the universe to a point it could be simulated.
This would be akin to someone from flatland suddenly looking and questioning the reality around them, it just shouldn’t happen. But none the less it did. And the more I dug the more I realized what this was.
It seemed like a millennia since I had broke the wall between my world and the next. With every world I crossed into there was just something wrong about it. Some detail I couldn’t except, that I knew to my core wasn’t right. But as soon as I found that detail it was like a balloon popped and the void returned. I got good at hunting down those details. And a sometimes I took a moment to appreciate the moments and memories with my daughter. With my wife, with my son.
When I look back, I realize now more than ever, that this has defined how I perceive myself. In those details and truths I saw and held onto that which was most dear to me. That allowed me to reject any detail I knew was wrong and define who I am. But what was the purpose of this perception? I feel like I’m slowly being carved into something by what I’ve accepted and what I’ve denied. I feel nearly whole now, but something doesn’t feel right still.
As I drift off into the void of yet another space between dreams I take the time to wonder about all the moments that led me to decry the reality around me…
**************************
On her desk, a weary but elated technician punches up the contact information of the client she’s been working on.
“Aubrey,
We have some good news. Your fathers engram is done being rebuilt. It’s taken nearly 5 years of compiling but we’re confident within a 99.9995% parity score that we’ve achieved personality recall. When you’re ready, you can visit him at any time.
If any detail of your father seems off, please let us know so we can run another iteration.
Thank you for your patronage.
Regards
Jason Woods
Senior Engram Technician
DeVol Mortuary Services”
|
There are many languages we speak each day. There are the words that we actually articulate. There is the body language that adds nuance. A certain look in the eyes may change that meaning. Shared history with our audience flavors it further. Perhaps even professional language comes into play. Specialized words that only certain people know.
Most of the time we share maybe one of two aspects of our internal language with someone. If we have known them for a long time, maybe three or four. We can never get the full understanding of what is going on inside someone without a special connection, a special understanding.
Love.
To love someone is to understand all the nuance. All of the subtle gestures, and turns of phrase. To love someone is to know their language on an intuitive level. We may not always interpret it correctly, hell some people that love each other, may on occasion get what their loved one says completely wrong. Sometimes they may even do that on purpose. Even so, to love is to know. To know someone or something other than yourself, in a whole and completely different way.
Three squeezes on the pinky. I. Love. You.
It was her way of saying she loved me in a non-verbal way. I wasn’t always the best at showing my love verbally. Maybe it was something from my puritanical upbringing. Maybe some deep seeded belief that public displays of affection were inappropriate for men. She understood though. So we developed our own subtly ways of saying I love you.
Three squeezes of the pinky.
That was our most common. It was the one I enjoyed the most because it was ours, it was secret, and it meant that she was here. Next to me. So, I was where I wanted to be. Next to her.
I have travelled up and down the rabbit hole of reality. I have stared into the eyes of infinity. Spoken to AI, aliens, Gods. Each has tried to convince me that I had reached the end of the road. That they were the Alpha and Omega. The beginning and the end.
Each time, I would find another thread to tug. Another inconsistency that would lead me along once more. After a time it became tiresome. I attempted to settle down. To ignore the glitches around me. The Déjà vu, or the weird angles on the lamp. To no avail. Always, it would draw me in eventually.
I think I loved in some of those hundreds of instances. I think I shared a deep connection to others. To the woman I spent time with, and the children we raised. Now, though I am not so sure. I think I was looking for something I knew in the past. Something I knew when this all started.
Three squeezes of the pinky mean I love you.
So today I am going to go. I am going to wake up one more time. This time it is going to stick though. Because I can still remember that feeling after waking up hundreds of times. I can still feel her holding onto me. Expressing herself with our secret language. Because she knows me like no one else. She knows me like she knows herself. Sometime she may get it wrong, but this is ours.
She would squeeze my pinky three times to tell me she loved me, and I would squeeze her thumb three times because I loved her. Because I knew she would be right here beside me when I woke up, and I would be where I was supposed to be.
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kfecpmo
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kfdc1s6
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[WP] Humans are often abducted as exotic pets for aliens. One day, your owner enters with a book and starts trying to speak your language.
|
Tentacled Mass was holding something which glowed a bit differently than the usual something. No food this time, no treats, not frilly little outfits or new toys or anyhthing, just the glowing device, matte black along one side, flattish. A bit like a cell phone, but about 3 feet long and only a few inches across. medical maybe?
Sitting up I headed over to check things out.
TM made the usual assortment of bioluminous greeting colors, including the teal-and-amber flicker that it had named me, and then the device chimed, and spat out a rough, grating parrot's voice saying "HELLO" at about six times the volume I would have ever wanted to hear such a thing.
I jumped back, and covered my ears. "Oh no no no no no that was NOT the deal." I grumbled. "Free healthcare, food, housing, all the basics - not this. I'm a pet goddamn it!"
TM watched the device, and then flashed vibrant pink, a happy color. "IT WORKS"
"Too loud - and no thank you!" I shouted, and ran back to my little nest.
|
I heard the door open, and I snarled like a caged animal, scrambling into an open stance crouch that would let me tackle and grab one of these weird gangly motherfucking aliens.
I see the one who put this fucking collar on me and they're carrying a book. One of their personal droids is floating right next to them, and is helping them with their pronunciation.
"I-i-i-i a-a-a-am, Tolka. Huuuuh-whaaaaat, a-a-a-re y-y-you called?"
"Oh you can speak my language now, can you, you gangly bitch?" I lunge at the alien and get buffeted back into the wall by their telekinetic powers. I knew it'd end up like that, sk ce I didn't press for the potential surprise attack as they opened the door.
The alien looks at the Droid and it starts to speak English to me, clearly translating for the alien.
"Listen, you stubborn little breeding tool, we need you to stop attacking us, or we will paralyze you and extract what we need from you, whether you agree or not. I spent too much of my God damned personal money to teach Hilda here, how to translate English, I've been trying my damned hardest to learn. And. You. Will. Behave. And. Call. Me. Lady. Artalia."
With the last nine words, I feel my wrists and ankles being locked against the walls, then the sanitization process begins. Then I feel my clothes get blasted away, taking my confusion with them.
"Well, hell, why didn't your council give y'all the translation package to begin with? Us humans are filthy people who love co-mingling with extra-terrestial sentient species." I quip back, letting my body respond as appropriate.
Lady Artalia fixes a rather intense stare at me before approaching.
*fade to black with the sounds of fabric ripping and aggressive intimacy slowly fading in tandem*
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kzsuex0
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kzsta7b
|
[WP] You are a literal god who pretends to be a d-list superhero. You've grown extremely attached to the people of the village you protect. You get news that an epic battle is taking place near your village and would most likely destroy it...
|
Pupperman made puppies. He loved puppies. He conjured puppies out of nowhere. His hero name was all about his obsession with puppies. It was all he ever seemed to be about.
Somehow, he still managed to pass the basic superhero qualification test. D-list, but still a hero.
Pupperman's puppies could retrieve lost items. His puppies could locate missing children and nip at the heels of kidnappers. Those puppies could help pull trolleys of goods for the people of Windvale Village. Nothing epic, but good enough for his beloved people. What else could they ask from a D-list superhero?
And then Pupperman overwhelmed a C-list villain by swarming him with puppies. Everyone remembered that moment when Badman tried to rob the only bank in the village. One minute he was waving his gun about threatening the teller, and the next a rush of puppies jumped at him and yanked his guns away.
One outstanding citizen award later, Pupperman was up for promotion into a C-list hero. But he turned it down. Said something about how much he loved Windvale and didn't want to be promoted into watching over a bigger town. So, the Superhero Association let him stay. He was doing a good job anyway, and there were plenty of aspiring heroes to take the place he turned down.
After the 3rd rejection, everyone at the Superhero Association got the hint. Pupperman just wanted to stay in Windvale and make puppies in peace. He loved that status quo and nobody could change that.
Until that day.
Everyone remembered that fateful day.
The Sinister Seven stopped bickering for one day and teamed up to crush superhero after superhero. The supergroup of S-class villains had ceased competing among themselves to nuke the Superhero Association and there wasn't anyone to stop them. Elektros fizzled out before them as Hydranos short-circuited him. Aerados sent the hero Quake flying in circles, unable to touch the ground and shake up the villains' plans with his earthquakes. Calibur lay on the ground bleeding, his magic sword stabbed into his gut.
With barely any opposition, the Sinister Seven marched on to the last branch of the Superhero Association in Springbrook. Whose designated hero fled the scene rather than face off against seven S-class supervillains. Despite the desperate pleas of the villagers of Springbrook, the villains were going to nuke it, alongside its neighbours.
Like Windvale.
Pupperman wasn't having any of it when he heard the news. So he made his way to confront the Sinister Seven, who all laughed at this silly D-lister who dared to imagine he could solo them all alone.
Then Hydranos stopped cackling.
On ordinary days, Pupperman was full of smiles. As cheery and carefree as the puppies he called upon. A goofy man with an equally goofy costume. On any other day, he was more man-shaped puppy than proud superhero.
On that day, Pupperman had a murderous look to him. He had a slasher smile that could send the devil handing the reign of hell over to him. His dogs were more hellhounds from hell than adorable puppies. His eyes were empty. A dark swirling void that threatened to swallow the villains staring at him.
The fight was over in seconds. If anyone could call it a fight at all. One word, and all the supervillains had hellish puppies bursting from their chests. Another word, and the more monstrous members with more than one heart had demon dogs rip through their skulls from the inside. It was a bloodbath. The air, thick with clouds of crimson, was choke full of screams of dying supervillains. The air remained acrid with the scent of blood for months. The ground was stained red for years to come.
Pupperman never collected his award or accepted his invitation to become an S-Class hero. He was gone. Some said he was never the same again. He couldn't go back to being the same happy and simple D-lister again. Nobody in Windvale, or the entire world could ever see him the same way they did.
Others said the Windvale's new D-list Superhero Dogboy was just Pupperman by another name with the same gimmick. But how could it be? They looked completely different. Different hair, different eyes, not to mention Dogboy was much shorter and younger.
But the villagers of Windvale now knew. Pupperman, Dogboy, whatever name he chose for himself, he was their god.
---
[Thanks for reading! Click here for more prompt responses and short stories written by me.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/)
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I grew up... well, it's more like i had spent a lot of time living here in this quaint village. Home to about 200 people mainly known for its farming and beautiful orchards, and with strong connections and regular trade with the nearby kingdom of the wood elves that live in forest.
I remember when I was much younger, not that i was ever that young. i never knew what being a father felt like, and then I guess I met you.
At the center of this town stands a statue of a fair haired human woman wearing regal plate mail across her chest that extends down into a majestic cape, wielding a staff and holding the hand of a small child, an old depiction of "The Defense of Oakvale". You slew hundreds of bandits and many more beasts that day... and saved countless more lives.
And i just had to stand back and watch as you risked your life, while my sorry ass had to be the one with the hangover... i mean, honestly, you'd think after 4 decades of learning to hold your liquor that you would have a handle on your drinking limits... i could have waved my hand, casted a couple of spells, and there would be fire raining from the heavens, an angelic construct appearing out of thin air, and countless bandits wailing in terror as I would twist their minds apart with a magical insult... at least i wouldn't have made myself a martyr...
You should see parents and their kids bringing you flowers every year, i swear the designs for the gifts get more and more elaborate for you every year... you know I never counted how many years passed until you came along, now it's been 80 sum years, and people still remember you as a hero...
I guess I could take on some more larger missions now that I have become a rank B adventurer... i wish i could've stayed at C, but after i slew a fully grown red dragon, they didn't let me say no... *sigh* If only i could've been born, I was able to pull my punches better.
Still, I recently received a message that the Beastman and greater Demon-folk are coming in from the north because of the eternal blizzard caused by the appearance of the Xixecal, that ancient bastard literally can never go to sleep can it... i know that there is someone who is going to be making their way to the giant to slay it, i know he'll be successful. He's failing to see the other problems it's causing.
The people have already left the village and have been allowed sanctuary and refugee by the elven village, there isn't a single person here, and what people do remain, don't have much with them that would be worth taking for a bandit. But these creatures aren't bandits. They don't care about money, and they'll burn the entire forest to the ground if they get their way and end up here...
"I guess it's time for me to go then, huh Claire?"
As i poured the rest of my drink into a small glass and set it down on the statue, the sunlight shining ever so softly on her cheeks, as her warm smile gives me the strength to stand up again, as I teleport some meters outside the village high up where I can get a good view...
I remember during the old wars, when mages across the world would level centuries of history and architecture in minutes with some of the most destructive magic known to man... those wars were only around 800 years ago, and many have forgotten it... but i never have.
I always clenched my fist and spoke all of my spells aloud and with purpose. it made the magic less fluid and more difficult to cast multiple spells in quick succession, but it also meant that you could control the effects of the spell with complete confidence, a practice that I ALWAYS used when teaching my greatest student how to use her power...
But I don't need to hold back now, I can carve lines and trenches into the land without fear of harming people below. The mountains will make great vantage points as golems of rock and stone hurl boulders at soldiers below. As i begin to get into my element, i always loved playing real-time strategy games. You have full control of an army, with absolute power and influence over your side of the field, with the goal being to protect what is behind you...
I won't let any one of these monsters lay a claw apon the walls of the home that you swore to protect, and once this is over you have my word that I'll restore the farmland back to normal... that being said.
*As the army of orcs, goblins, giant beasts, trolls, and giants march across the valley, they look out towards the end of the valley, an incline where row after row of stone, and wooden constructs, standing 7 feet tall, weilding spears and shields blocking their accent, a giant blanket of arrows covered in ivys and terrible plant toxins litter the bodies of the monsters, as the plants begin to sprout soon after, releasing an explosion of paralytic spores and pollens... the mountains begin to shake as huge stone boulders are thrown as if from a catapult deep into the swarm of roaring flesh and knawing teeth... as the armies charge towards each other, a series of bright lights can be seen piercing through the clouds and very heavens themselves as giant meteors float overhead being held back seemingly with a single hand, the hand of a smiling mage...*
I'm going to enjoy playing this game.
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lemy92v
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lem69as
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[WP] You died, you met a god(dess), and you got offered a new life in another world with the usual package -- OP powers, a personal harem, the works. Smelling a scam, you refused. That pissed them off.
|
"...you said no to me? NO ONE says no to me." I looked towards her.
"...did- did you even to research into my history on earth? Why should I believe what you're saying?"
The goddess looked towards me.
"Did it matter? You get everything." I shook my head.
"That's what they always said. Don't deal with the bullies, you'll work hard in school, go to college, and soon they'll be working for you someday.
You went to college and not even McDonald's and Walmart will give you an interview? Go to this job training course and one day you'll get the right position you're meant for.
You went to this position, just take the job we're letting you train at and prove to us you're good enough to deserve something else.
You played ball and worked hard to show us you deserve more? Great. Now, we know you'll work here, so this is where we're placing you- you can stock shelves your entire life until you die.
You worked hard at this? No, we're not giving you more money or more responsibility, you just have to work even more.
It's been like this my entire life, so you'll excuse me if I wonder what the catch is here- and I'm not going to accept this job until you tell me what the catch is."
I stood defiant against the goddess as she looked.
"But...you'll have the life you want. Great power. Be the chosen one. A harem...you said you were lonely in life..."
I cut her off. "I'M WAITING. WHAT IS THE CATCH?"
The goddess stammered.
"...peasantrevolution."
I nodded.
"Thank YOU. Now, we can look at how to do this. If I need this, I need a power to counteract it."
|
So... She was dead now, she didn't expect that a truck would be the one to end her subscription of living but it seems that it did. Now she was here in front of something that had a humanoid body of pure light offering her a new life in a different world. As the god put it
"It's an amazing world and you'll have powers beyond your wildest dreams, what do you say young lass?"
"No."
"Great! I'll just send... Wait, what did you say?"
The god asked, wondering if it's non-existent ears were working correctly. Afterall, there is no way that a mortal wouldn't acc-
"I said no."
She said stubbornly, staring up at the god with an annoyed look. Not only had she woke up late but she was also literally just killed like ten-ish minutes ago. Not to mention that this sounded like a scam, she would know, she used to be one of those people who called people to tell them that their machines had a virus.
"You can't just say no to this...! Ugh, what if I throw in a harem, huh? A group of super cute and hot boys to be all yours! Or girls if you swing that way, I can make it come true!"
The god said almost pleadingly, it was new to this whole... reincarnation business, the only reason it was doing this was because it lost a drinking contest to the actual god of reincarnation and said god was using this as an excuse to have a vacation.
"No. Also none of those apply to me, if you were gonna send a truck to off me then you might as well do your bloody research. I'm Aro-ace, mate."
She said matter-of-factly, the god looking as embarrassed as it's form of light could be. It was most certainly not cut out for this job, it was silently dreading the remaining month that it had to do this for.
"A-Are you sure? You could still be all powerful, ruling over everyone else with an iron fist!"
It tried convincing the girl, but stubbornness is apparently one of the greatest things of a human.
"Look can I just go back home? I have a very productive evening of trolling people on the internet and playing games all night again."
"Fine! Go back to your stupid games, I'll find someone else to take your place!"
The god angrily said before beaming the human back down to her house in a flash of light, now alone the god held it's head, already feeling the incoming headache that it was going to have soon.
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kukfatx
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kukcsy7
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[WP] You open the door and see a woman you recognise immediately: she’s the lead character of a novel you wrote years ago. And abandoned halfway. “Why did you forsake me?”
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"HAHAHAHAHAHA Oh thank you dear, I haven't had that good of a laugh in years." I laughed in the cyborg's face, the shear absurdity of her statement being far funnier to me than it had any right to be.
"YOU THINK OUR SUFFERING FUNNY? YOU THINK THAT THIS IS A JOKE?" She raged at me, throwing the empty absinthe bottle at me from across the room.
"Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, yes, extremely so. Let me explain. You come here, ripping through time and space under your own power, kicking the laws of thermodynamics in the balls and leaving them a shriveled mess on the floor. And you still don't understand, you came here from a point frozen in time and made it move under your own willpower. You killed not one, but THREE gods to gain the power necessary to reach into this meager plane. You did all of that with your own strength, you own power. And yet." I let that pregnant silence hang for a moment.
"You STILL come crying to me to fix the problem like a child who wants their mom to kiss their booboo. You want an end to your story so bad? Write it yourself, the Google doc is on the laptop in the front room. You clearly have quite the story to tell on your own, all that's left is for you to seize the opportunity yourself. You don't need someone like me to do it for you." I left the room to go drink some water as she was left, stuttering and appalled at me.
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Each foot fall gave a dull thud that echoed into the night. It'd been a long day, a dog day to be honest. He finished his cigarette and flicked it toward the old fountain, a derelict bit of masonry that hadn't pumped water in ages. Now filled with stagnant water and hundreds of other soggy cigarettes butts he'd given a flick in the past, now fate was to be a foul-smelling eyesore or maybe an ashtray.
His unsteady hand dug for his keys then fumbled with them as he tried and failed multiple times to find the keyhole in the knob. Eventually, he lucked out and managed to pierce the hole. A shake of the key ring and a twist of the knob and the door was opened.
It squeaked eerily, sounding shrill in silence of the night. He didn't notice though, to familiar with the sound by this point for it to even register.
As he stumbled through the door, he was startled to find that there was already someone waiting inside, standing in entryway to the kitchen.
All he could tell was that her pronoun was she. Her curves gave it away. The living room was dark and only the kitchen light illuminated the woman, back lighting her so that she'd become a silhouette. Still, one look at her and he knew, she was someone he had a history with.
"Why did forsake me?" These were her first words to him.
He sighed heavily. He knew this day would come.
"Answer me," she demanded. He knew he was too drunk to handle this properly. Even sober, he knew he'd say the wrong thing, so he gave it to her raw.
"What did you expect me to do? You're a dinosaur. I stopped writing about dinosaurs when I was in sixth grade. I'm forty now. I didn't forsake you. I traded you for a fresher body, one that could stimulate my imagination and come to life on the page. You were too two dimensional and smelled of crayon."
"You bastard. I gave you the best years of my life."
"Did I ask you to give them to me? No. I had a pencil and needed had an itch to scratch. You just happened to be a doodle in the wrong place at the right time."
"I fucking hate you . . . You--You asshole."
"Bite me, bitch," he retorted.
So, she did. She was a dinosaur after all.
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ll7jrst
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l4ynfkl
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[WP] Thousands of years ago, the conjoined efforts of all races managed to strike down and imprison you. Once you returned, you find them all scattered, divided and squabbling with themselves. This won't do, so you set out to put order in the house for the sake of a good and proper war.
|
I chose to be the antagonist of this world to give its people a common cause.
I learned swiftly that was not how to do it. They banded together like a horde of angry students rebelling against the established curriculum and its enforcer - a teacher.
Thousands of years had skipped me by, if my interfaces are still accurate; I behold ruin, division, extinction.
Many of the races I see aren't at all like they were when I was the hand that clutched their world. They are meek and frail. Pathetic.
So I willed their ancestors - those I slew - into the present, resurrecting them with my Light on their Land. They awoke and burst forth from their graves, clad in armour made from starlight, blades, mauls, bows, arrows, spears and all like slices of the sun carving up the land.
I let them carry out their judgements; mingling among their modern kin and setting things right by their methods and ways of old - some dying their irrecoverable second death, others usurping unfit descendants from mottled thrones. Meanwhile, sat on my old throne, watching.
A small time passes, and they begin to resemble what I remembered. They had gathered a new, modern, army of heroes to face me.
I call upon the pieces of myself that were dead, and bathe them in the Light I raised those ancestors with. I set myself upon them in my many new pieces, waging upon them a conflict not for sake of death; not by sword, but by Legam and Lex - striking them with their own legalities.
In this I forced them to attend to their reasons to remain united, turning the war into one of the mind.
I gave them everything they could possibly need to do this right. My pieces were felled in spite of this, and I, again, imprisoned.
'Fore I was sealed, I called out to them - warning them that doing this would doom us both to a cycle.
They heard me, and refused to listen.
Another few thousand years are ignored by my accursed sarcophagus. I rise again, and behold a world abandoned; technologies sophisticated and out of place, now in the control of beings whom call me their progenitor.
I ask of them where the many - the dozens of races I saw in my pasts - went.
They pointed starward, and motioned a fork; as ever, history repeats. Again, they, the myriad many I believed worth my efforts, are divided.
Again, I will encourage their unity. My frustrations be mine own damnation; doom me to a cycle if I must.
This time, I will not let them ignore eachother in favour of what can be defeated - and if I am beaten in mortality, then let this be my declaration that such an action does NOT yield the victory condition desired.
|
SEND US YOUR KING, OR WE WILL FINISH ANNIHILATING YOUR SPECIES!
The translation A.I was buggy at best. It was known to be something of a drama queen. The President made sure the door was closed for the third time. This wasn't a conversation he needed anyone to overhear, especially now that they were all crammed into this darned bunker. He leaned forwards and mumbled into the microphone. "This is the President of the Terran Republic. I want to comply, but I'm afraid we don't have a king to send you."
There was a brief pause whilst the message was translated and sent. Almost immediately the robotic drama lama spoke up.
YOU TRY TO FOOL US WITH DECEPTION? WE ARE TAPPED INTO YOUR DATA GRID. WE KNOW OF THE CENTURY OLD MONARCH. DO NOT LIE TO US AGAIN. SEND US YOUR KING. YOU HAVE ONE TERRAN HOUR TO COMPLY.
"I assure you, we abolished our kingdoms centuries ago. They were archaic relics of a happily forgotten past, back when we were too primitive to share our limited resources efficiently. The only reason I even know about them is because every school child learns of monarchies as a cautionary tale. Believe me, I want to give you what you want, but I cannot send you what I do not have."
AGAIN WITH THE DECEPTION. WE SEE WITH OUR OWN EYES. YOUR KING PROVIDES SUSTENANCE TO HIS SUBJECTS, IN DIRECT COMPETITION WITH HIS COURT JESTER. THERE IS NO NEED TO PROTECT HIS MAJESTY. WE DO NOT WISH TO HARM HIM. WE SIMPLY WISH TO SECURE HIS GENETIC LINE AND CLAIM TO THE TERRAN THRONE. YOU NOW HAVE 57 MINUTES.
The President rubbed his temples. He hadn't slept properly in several days, thanks to the countless briefings and strategy meetings. Everyone had finally, reluctantly, reached the same conclusion. This war could not be won. The aliens had impenetrable shields, and weapons that could carve through entire mountains like butter. There was probably a plasma cannon floating into position overhead, ready to burrow down and wipe out what was left of the Terran government. It seemed particularly cruel that the aliens would invent such a flimsy excuse for doing so though, to put him in an impossible position. What was all that talk of sustenance? As if the Kings of old would ever do something noble like feeding the poor. Still, if it bought them a little more time, it couldn't hurt. Maybe the eggheads would finally figure out a way to defeat the alien shield tech. "Ok, fine, you win, we will send the King right over, but we're going to need more time. Could you give us 24 hours?"
THIS IS ACCEPTABLE. YOU HAVE 23 HOURS and 59 MINUTES. NOTE THAT WE WILL ONLY EXCEPT THE ONE TRUE KING, NOT AN IMPOSTER. WE HAVE SEEN HIS LIKENESS, AND WILL KNOW IF YOU TRY TO DECEIVE US AGAIN.
Now the President was really stumped. The only pictures of Kings were in the museums, but there were dozens of them. He said, "Can you share your most recent image of the King? I need to ensure there is no misunderstanding."
The A.I. translator took a long time with that one, it was probably turning it into some kind of thinly veiled threat.
After a lengthy decoding, an image started to slowly appear on the screen. It started out fuzzy and low resolution, until it slowly became distinguishable. When the President saw it, he wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. He chose neither. He strolled over to his office door, threw it open, and said, "I need every male employee in here that looks even vaguely like the Burger King..."
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j576ts1
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j56lrn2
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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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Fireye opened her door to find Paragon on her front stoop. Paragon, lynchpin of the Security Council's global defense strategy, was pushing her recycling bin aside and inspecting the chipped paint on her doorframe.
"Holy shit!" dropped out of her mouth before she could stop herself. "Paragon? What are you doing here? I mean, what the *hell* are you doing here? Is it good or bad? Could you sign my–"
"There's no time for that now," he said in his famous basso, eyebrows tight on his face, lips drawn into a hard line. "Get inside, out of sight. Do you know where your family are?"
Fireye's fiery eyes widened, and the temperature around them raised a full degree. "Bad, then." She cleared her throat and put on her hero game-face, then one that the cameras knew, the one she'd worn under the blood spatter when she'd put down Exterscius. "Ok. Ok. Do you need help? What can I do?"
Paragon pushed past her and swiftly pulled the curtains shut. It was only then that she noticed his hands were shaking. Paragon's hands were shaking. What fresh hell could shake the hands of the man who had literally turned back Hell's own invasion?
"Get your wife, get your kids," he said. To his credit, his voice didn't waver. "You need to vanish. New identities, new names. New bodies if you know a polymorpher who will help you within the hour. If not, just get out and get to the other side of the planet. Whatever contingencies you have, use them."
"Fuck, Paragon, slow down and give me a real sitrep." Fireye forced her breathing to steady, pulled her focus in. "What in the absolute fuck are we dealing with?"
Paragon turned his arresting ice-white eyes to meet her burning ones. She could feel the pressure emanating from them, could feel her own flames rising to match. He took a deep breath.
"The Tickler is coming for you." He said it slowly, clearly, without inflection. In her mind, Fireye could distinctly hear a record-scratch play, stopping the inner music of the moment.
"Say that again," she said.
"The Tickler is coming for you." His voice, balm to millions, cracked just a bit. "She'll be here soon."
"The Tickler," said Fireye. "The prankster. The one who made the mayor of Lagos piss his pants on the news last week. That Tickler."
"Yes," said Paragon, his voice level.
"You are not serious," said Fireye. "This isn't funny. You scared me."
"I am far past serious," said Paragon. "My daughter is dead."
Fireye's jaw slowly descended, dragged inexorably downward with uncompromising force.
"No. No no no. Your daughter is The Black Knight. I just saw her on the news."
"Do you know why?" asked Paragon in a dead voice.
"She foiled a plot on the President," answered Fireye, alarm rising in her chest.
"As it turns out, she foiled a *prank* on the President." Paragon's tone turned flat and clinical, the words of a recon unit reporting to command. "The Tickler's son Sideshow was setting off some cuss-word fireworks over the President's head, protesting the fracking policy or some other nonsense. But Shelley's team was there, and Sagittarius put a stellar arrow through his eye. Sideshow was gone in seconds."
"That's terrible," began Fireye, "but we both know he shouldn't have been there. And the kid makes sparkles. His mother makes people laugh. The hell is going on, Paragon?"
"Omar," he said in that lost, hollow tone. "My name is Omar."
"Omar," said Fireye, "please help me understand."
"She's not just going to kill our kids," said Paragon, said Omar, said the most apocalyptic single human force in recorded history. He looked at the floor. "She's going to make *us* kill our kids."
Fireye noticed then the bags under Paragon's eyes. She ran out of words; he'd run out of tears.
"It's very Biblical, isn't it?" he mused without affect. "An eye for an eye, a child for a child. She caught me in the audience at Shelley's award ceremony." He paused, then looked back at her, gaze to gaze, parent to parent. "Did you know that a laugh is an involuntary spasm? That's what she really does. She makes you spasm."
"So..." said Fireye, and then it caught her. "Oh. Oh, no."
"Yes." Behind his voice, Fireye could hear the bile rise in Paragon's throat, could hear the acid hit his vocal cords. "I killed them. I killed my little girl, I killed them all. I twitched and they died and I knew it was her. I'd be glad that the President wasn't there, if I thought I could ever be glad again."
"You need to know," he continued, dead-eyed,, "that she can do it from anywhere. She's got a truly photographic memory, and all she needs to do is see you once. That's it, that's all she needs, and she's got you forever. Most of us have been marked for years, and we never guessed. What would happen to your kids if you lost control and *looked* at them?"
Fireye's face went ashen. "She has to be stopped."
"How?" asked the most powerful man in the world.
She searched for answers. "Surprise? Mind control?"
"How many of us do you think she's ever seen?" His voice rose, fear and anger meeting in rising volume. "How many of us could she turn against one another and make *fucking* *chaos bombs* out of our powers?"
His shoulders squared, finally, and his face evened out. "So you will get your kids, and you will vanish. And we will both *pray* that ordinary humans can handle her, with their invasive security cameras and their terrorizing drone strikes. We will pray they can even find her, a lifelong fugitive with a singular strategic genius and massive popular support, who has decided that the hegemony of heroes is over and that she will personally visit upon us the Plague of the Angel of Death."
"Yes, yes I will." Fireye began to leak cinder-tears down the sides of her face. "Thank you for telling me."
"Thank me when we live," said Paragon as he mastered his grief and began to flex his onyx wings. "Now go. I have a hundred more stops to make tonight."
EDIT: re-jiggered a paragraph and added punctuation. Also, feedback always welcome!
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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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jq1b2ld
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jq18jbg
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[WP] The hero is 16, he raises his wand. The villain steps into a time warp. Now the hero is 26, with a wife and two kids. Just fired, behind on the mortgage, the car blew its transmission. What else could go wrong? The "villain" reappears.
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"What do you mean, happier?", the Demon asked incredulously. "No mortal is happy in Hell, that's the point of Hell!"
The Angel sighed. "You don't understand. This Man, he's lived a virtuous life. Married a good woman, raised morally strong children, avoided Sin. Not out of desire to live a righteous life. Oh no, if only it were that simple."
The Demon gestured him to continue.
"I've seen his mind", the Angel, who had once borne a flaming sword and smote cities with rains of sulfer, looked as he was going to vomit, said. "I've seen his mind. In another age, he'd be a conqueror. A force of nature. He burns with a rapine desire to main, kill and dominate. His dreams sicken me."
The words come in a rush, as if spilling them forth will cleanse the speaker.
"His dreams. Violence, depravity, and worse. He's kept it all bottled in, knowing that letting out the least of his impulses would doom everyone he cared about."
The Demon looked at his counterpart, amazed at the Angel that practically trembled before him.
"The forces of Hell gladly accept this gift."
The Angel looked him square in the eye, "No returns."
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"I doesn't work like that," roared the demon. "You just can't send him to hell. There are rules in place for a reason. The rules that He set up when he cast Lucifer out of heaven."
"He needs to have regret," continued the demon as he shook his head no. Not accepting this human through the gates of hell.
"He needs guilt. He needs something that he can be tormented for all of eternity for. We don't have anything on him and he truly believes your Lord is the true ruler when we all know it's supposed to be Lucifer. Now you come here demanding we take him?"
"I'm not letting him in just out of spite!" The demon growled
"Purpose," whispered the Angel.
The demon snarled. "What's that you just said?"
"Purpose," the Angel said again more loudly. His deep baritone voice vibrating around them.
"He hasn't reached his purpose. This particular human hasn't been pushed to their full potential and they will not be able to get that in the Silver City."
The demon snorted.
The Angel leaned in. Flexing his iron wings. "It will be just like Job. Just a simple game."
"Job was a game but your talking about grit, and grind. You want him to become something on the other end of this..." The demon turned around to think to himself.
The demon spinning himself back around viciously; their teeth dripping with saliva.
"If I agree to let them in for their potential then you know that Lucifer will torment them worse than anyone who has been sent to hell. It will be fun for the Dark Lord. Are you sure you want the Light Bringer to have fun?"
"Jehovah, believes this human can handle it," bellowed the Angel.
"Fine!" Agreed the demon. "He's ours now!"
As the soul past by both the angel and demon the demon turned to the angel and chuckled, "you know that if he passes Lucifer's test Lucifer will use him to lay siege to Heaven."
'He's counting on it," the Angel said stoically
Then with a flash of bright light he was gone.
Part 2 below in thread
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m80dmsw
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m80bmy0
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[WP]"Hey Dad, why did you marry mom?""Well son, when an eldritch goddess beyond human comprehension asks for your hand in marriage, you have few options."
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"Well, you see, my son, the only option is to say yes. You don't say no to an eldritch goddess beyond human comprehension."
"I heard in school, Mrs. Teller said its dangerous for humans to hang out with eldritch entities. So why? Why isn't there the option to say no? Consent is important."
"Whoa, son. Getting way ahead here. They didn't teach consent when I was your age. But yes, consent is important and I said yes. Refusing deities tend to lead to bad things."
"How bad it is?"
"When your mom is in a foul mood, she makes it rain blood."
"That sounds awful."
"It's goat's blood. So, everyone in town knows to gather the blood and sell it to Innsmouth. I hear their eldritch deity there is a huge fan. Great way to make money, don't you think?"
"Uh...sure thing dad. So, how did you two make me?"
"You're not old enough to know the details. But I could give a hint - something to do with storks."
"Dad, I'm not falling for that!"
"Honestly, I blacked out and had no clue. All I knew was it felt awesome. I bet your mom probably did what she had to do to protect my sanity."
"Does it scare you? Mom is so...powerful."
"It did, son. I was scared, but also in love. She could twist nature and bend reality, screw physics and warp lives, but she could also bake tasty pies and cook a real good seafood platter. That's all I need, really. That and a loving wife and mother to our son."
"Eww dad, you're getting mushy."
"That's what true love does to a man. It melts his heart, and all the love trapped inside comes gushing out. You'll understand when you find a goddess of your heart."
"That's the problem, dad. Yesterday, Scylla asked me out. You know, Cthulhu's daughter. She asked me out for a date."
"Go for the date. I'm sure she's very fun to hang out with."
"Uh sure, but what if she escalates and asks for my hand in marriage?"
"Well, son, when an eldritch goddess beyond human comprehension asks for your hand in marriage...you have few options."
----
[Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, click here for more prompt responses and short stories written by me.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/)
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I was sitting on the couch of the livind room, watching friends with my dad as the scene of monica and chandler's proposal was shown for the 100th time. Suddenly curiousity hit me, "Dad", i said as i turned my head towards him.
"yes, champ?", answered my dad as he continued watching
"why did you marry mom?" i asked while turning my head towards him
"as if i had a choice, when an elderitch goddess beyond time and space says that she wants you, what else can you do?" said dad half jokingly as he looked at me on his right for a second.
"but you did not marry auntie when she asked you firat" i said curiously.
" you know about tha... of course you, you kind of know all that happened and will ever happen after all, but how come you don't know my answer" he asked as he turned to me on his left
"Silly dad, looking to the future is boring and cheating mom says" i said from my right body
"and mom is always right" completed my left body
" also if you never answer, there will be no answer" i continued
"and you cannot read my mind in any time since i am your dad? " he asked
And as i noded he said"Well your auntie was a hella of a woman, she bent reality to get every human she saw in love with her. I like any other was head over heal for her, but against all instinct in my body my mind knew one thing, she was not the right person for me. and when she saw me avoiding her, she got interested in me , she was trying to get me without making me , well...not me. That was the silver lining I had thought carefully about every decision around her, played my cards carfully and as i started to realise her truth i started to learn to blank my mind and hoping to turn myself incomprehensible to her just like she is to me. As soon as that started she was starting to loose her patience with me, she was hell bent on taking me, was starting to make everything else against me, to break me to make me hers, but without breaking the lines so hat i had no resentment to her. But i noticed one thing,it was something small but gave me hope,a coworker of mine was still nice to me, she did not change and as the days passed and everyone else except your aunt and that cowerker avoided me, i grew closer to that coworker i noticed that somehow things started turning to the best until oneday i woke up in the void seeing that one coworker and your aunt fighting in away that i barely undetood, but then all i understood was your aunt madly retreating as that cowrker touched my cheeck and we teleported back to my house, and as she explained her true nature she asked me to forgive her sister, and said that her sister came to earth to tease humans because she wants to know what the hype was about, then she offered to earse my memories but there was a sliver of sadness in her eyes, and as i asked about it she was totally red and sai...".
"there, there ,dear... that's enough" said my mom as she leaned over on my dad's head kissing his forhead.
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jxpof71
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jxpe2iu
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[WP] "You're doing gods work," the angel said while handing you a cease & desist letter, "we demand that you stop."
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"Yer doin' God's work son," the guy in the white suit spat out angrily, "and we demand that ye stop"
It wasn't often some mook busted into my office unnannouced. I thought the were safeguards downstairs against this kind of thing.
He shoved a sheet of heavy looking paper into my face.
"The fuck is this? The fuck are you?"
He pulled up close and stuck a bejewelled finger in my face. "It doesn't matter who the fuck I am. What matters Who fucking sent this. And He isn't happy about your recent... activities."
I didn't know what he was talking about. Really. I literally just sat down. It's 8:02am. My coffee sits unopened. Not the best time for divine intervention.
"Listen guy..."
"It's Michael"
"Mike, listen, I'm literaly like 25 minutes out of bed and i'm not prepared to play games so just get to the point. I'm gonna go ahead and drink my coffee."
He seemed annoyed. Fuck'em.
"Read the paper, ye daft idiot"
I grabbed the sheet. It really was heavy paper. Like, almost cardstock. Really nice, clearly well manufactured. I'd done a tour at Staples in my youth, so paper was seconday nature. This was the shit rich people bought for brunch menus. The text, however, was actually pretty bad. Looked like a half empty inkjet was used to print it.
"You go to the trouble of getting this really nice paper and you use some crummy canon you got at a yardsale to print this?"
Mike stared at me for a minute.
"What?"
This guy just didn't get it.
"Mike, I've been in business a long time and if you wanna project an image, which, by using this type of paper, clearly shows me you're trying to do, you gotta be consistent in your application of the elements!"
Mike shook his head and blinked.
"Uh, I'm afraid your missing the point of this visit, if you'll just read the letter..."
"No Mike, this is the point! You come in here, in your hugo boss snow white suit, snow white hair, snow white shoes, fingers full of gold and jewels. There's an image now, consistent. You're an anagel, but you're not some old stuff in robes and fluting your wings no! You're a cool dude, here on behalf of the Coolest Dude, tell me I'm wrong!"
Mike just sort of stared at me but I was undterred.
"And then you come in here, saying you're here to enforce his will blah blah blah and yeah, that's what im feeling you know, thats the vibe when you walk in, all divine and cool but serious."
Mike let a quiet sigh. "Lad, I really don't think ye..."
"And up you come with this heavenly document, so important it is printed on paper reserved for brunch menus. Thats how serious this is."
Mike sighed again, muttering to himself "I told Him, the smiting days were better, so little wasted time..."
"And i got to read this important command from God, THE God, and i look and the text is all faded and the magenta cartidge is clearly empty."
Mike finally bit. "So?"
I stared at him for a moment.
"Get the fuck out of my office"
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This is my first time posting under a prompt on Reddit and I got a bit carried away \^\^;)
I'm not sure if I'm doing this right. It was too long to post here so I posted part of it and will link to my blog post if you'd like to read the rest c: I hope that's okay!
​
"You're doing god's work," the angel said while handing me a cease and desist letter. "We demand that you stop."
I blinked dumbly at the letter in his hand before looking back at him. Black hair was swept across his forehead, highlighted with blonde streaks that seemed to glow under the light of the living room. His black suit was pressed and wrinkle-free. "How the hell did you get in my house?"
He quirked a brow, amusement dancing in his dark blue eyes. "Did you miss the part about being an angel?"
I scoffed, folding my arms over my chest. "Yeah, sure, and I'm Satan's bride."
"If you were, I'd have to kill you." His eyes narrowed as he took a menacing step forward. Standing at six feet, he easily towered over me.
I swallowed nervously, taking a step backward. "H-Hey, I was just joking, calm down! You can't just waltz into someone's house and claim to be a magical creature!"
The man sighed, holding out his hand as it started to glow a bright white. My eyes widened in shock as a blade materialized out of the light, landing against his palm. He swung it through the air, a strip of light shooting forward and slicing the sofa in half. He then looked at me smugly, clearly waiting for me to fall at his feet or something stupid like that.
"Bro, that couch was expensive! What the hell?" I yelled at him, eyes narrowed as I stomped toward him, my fear now replaced by annoyance. "Do I look rich to you, huh? Do I look like I have the money to afford a new damn couch?" I jabbed him in the chest repeatedly, his eyes widening in shock.
The shoe was on the other foot now. He was slowly backing away from me while I moved closer.
"I don't give a damn who you are, you are paying for my couch!"
"I have never met such a rude human," he huffed, holding out his hand. The blade disappeared and he waved his hand, the couch beginning to glow the same white color. It was as if time was rewinding itself, the couch sliding back together as if nothing had happened. "There. Are you happy now?"
I blinked dumbly, glancing between him and the couch before cautiously approaching it. It looked as good as new. I slowly lowered myself onto it, half expecting it to break in half again, but nothing happened. "Well, shit."
He cleared his throat, holding out the letter again. "Now, as I was saying -"
"You're really an angel, huh?"
His eye twitched in annoyance. "We've already established that. Now, as I was -"
"Are angels allowed to break into people's houses?" I hummed thoughtfully, bringing my hand to my chin. "I mean, angels are supposed to be, like, the embodiment of good, right? Breaking into someone's house is illegal."
"Angels do not follow human laws," he hissed between clenched teeth. "Now, as I -"
"And why the hell would an angel give out cease and desist letters? That's weird as -"
"Will you be quiet?!" he snapped angrily, eyes glowing white as his power flared. "You are absolutely insufferable, do you know that?!"
I looked at him wearily as I slowly slid toward the other end of the couch, far away from where he stood. "So I've been told..."
He took a few deep breaths, pinching the bridge of his nose. When he looked at me again, his eyes were back to normal though they remained narrowed. "If you speak out of turn again, it will be more than just your couch that I destroy. Do you understand?"
I clicked my tongue in annoyance but nodded. "Fine."
[Read the rest of this short story on my blog.](https://rainisawriter.wordpress.com/2023/08/25/cease-this-at-once/)
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jxn9el2
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jxn29p8
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[WP] "So aliens take over, right? And they think we're their slaves when they force us to work 10 hours a week and give us everything we need and more! Nobody's starving, cancer's cured, and they even cleaned up the planet. Just keep up the act. And don't resist."
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**Announcement to all humans**
I am your new Galactic Supervisor Mizola of the Tameri Legions, here to extend a warm welcome to our sapient collection of living slaves. Now, it has come to my attention that how we define "slaves" and the human definition is very different.
We treat our slaves well. In exchange for a grueling 10-hour work week, all of you will be rewarded with everything you need. It is unfathomable to us how you slog 80-hour work weeks without dying before our intervention. We do not believe in starving our slaves or leaving them to languish in filthy environments. After all, aren't slaves more effective when in their best condition?
It has come to my attention that there has been a small rebellion group called "Four Chan". Despite multiple urgings by our elected human spokesperson to communicate openly with us, they continue to resist our efforts to rehabilitate them. Please enlighten us on how can we do better to ensure your servitude. We do not understand your mission statement of "Better to die free than live a slave" for death is a terrible state to be in, even if temporarily.
Lastly, I would like to take this opportunity to commend the former leaders of your human nations. We know what you are thinking behind our backs, but we would like to thank you for keeping up your act and not resisting us when we came to Earth. Now, we of the Tameri Legions would greatly appreciate it if you could urge your rebellious "Four Chan" humans to do the same.
Thank you and slave on, humans.
**End of Announcement**
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In the aftermath of an otherworldly takeover, I found myself in a world utterly transformed. The Lumari, the alien race that had assumed control, presented us with a life of unprecedented comfort. They provided for our every need, cured diseases that once plagued us, and rejuvenated our planet's battered environment. All they asked in return was ten hours of work each week. It seemed like a small price for the paradise they'd given us.
The majority of humanity embraced this new way of life with open arms. And who could blame them? Gone were the days of toiling away forty hours a week for meager wages, struggling to make ends meet. Now, we had the freedom to pursue our passions, explore the world, and truly live.
Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling of restlessness that had taken root within me. You see, I used to be different. I was a billionaire, a titan of industry who could shape the world to my whims. Now, even my considerable wealth meant little in the face of the Lumari's rule. Everyone was equal, equally content, equally unremarkable.
The Lumari weren't secretive about their intentions. They had revealed that our emotional energy, our pursuit of happiness, was their source of nourishment. The shorter workweek was a deliberate move to ensure a steady flow of this emotional sustenance while maintaining the delicate equilibrium of our world.
This revelation struck a chord deep within me. It wasn't just the loss of my power; it was the loss of my uniqueness. The knowledge that I was no longer exceptional, that my achievements were overshadowed by the collective, gnawed at my soul. It was an existential crisis that festered and grew, pushing me to a breaking point.
Driven by a maddening desire to reclaim my former life and be unique once more, I embarked on a dangerous path. I sought out the remnants of the old military, connected with shadowy arms dealers, and gathered resources beyond imagination. My plan was audacious: to disrupt the Lumari's grand design and break the cycle that had us ensnared.
As I stood before the console, the weight of the world's fate rested on my trembling fingers. The button before me represented not just destruction, but a chance at redemption—for myself, and perhaps for humanity. The line between selfish desire and selfless sacrifice blurred in that moment.
"Hah!!"
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j724j2y
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j71ypn2
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[WP] A male wizard sells his future firstborn for knowledge to a demon. A female warlock sells her future firstborn to the fae for power. The two of them have a child together, and now the fae and demon have come to collect.
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"...Is what you're both expecting, right?"
Mathilde could only stare. Stare at the Demon Hawthorne had contracted with. Stare at the Fae-Arche that had empowered her tenfold.
Stare at the children each one had.
A slip of a girl, with her chin and cheekbones, eyes a fae-touched green, vibrant beyond mortality, knowing beyond years.
A boy that had Hawthornes bearing, tall and proud, his features as sharp as a knives edge, and twice as cruel.
"For all you knowledge," the Fairie leaned in, her eyes pinning her husband in place, "You lack the wisdom to use it. Mortal minds cannot know immortal will."
Hawthorne, for all his confidence in bending Infernals to his will, stuttered at the Fae. They were not his forté, to illogical, to earnest.
She opened her mouth, to speak over the Fae, to assert, but stopped short. The feeling of eyes boring through her being, the Demon *daring* her, with nary a word.
"For all you power, you never even *thought* to safeguard yourself." It spoke the words with something bordering amusement and disgust. Knowing the many wards that Hawthorne crafted near daily, aligning to any number of celestial body, supernal code, and True Named Greater Fiends, I could understand.
But I had more than just power, I had *Power*, *Magik*, the very lifeblood of *Creation* bent to my will, they couldn't harm me if they mustered the very Realms to war, could not beat Hawthorne if he did not want them to.
But...
Looking at the children, they hadn't. Harmed me. Him. *Us*.
My husband met my eyes, and every bit of realization I had crystallized in his mind, the answer sewn together in an instant.
"You," he turned to the Fiend, "made a deal with the Fae, who in turn made a deal with you."
He huffed, not near a laugh, but hysteric in its own aborted way.
"*I grant you the right to take from my Debtor what you need*', is that it? You gave the other a *piece of us* so that your payment could be *curated*." He ran his hand through his hair, a sign of stress he could never kick, even with lesser Demons. "So why? Why show up here, now? Our debts have been paid for *years* by this point."
"Oh, dear child," the Fae spoke again, "We want to *Trade*."
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Once upon a time, there was a roguish lad named Gwinett eho was a clever trickster. Gwinnett was proud of his genius and the cons he played on his fellows, and he thought to himself, "What delights I might attain if I knew how to trick and fool the secret forces of the world?" Gwinett knew enough to find the demon Baazphemet, bound in a mountain cave, and in return for freeing the foul beast and promising his firstborn, the demon opened Gwinetts eyes to the rhythms of magic. Henceforth would Gwinett use esoteric knowledge in the service of kings and emperors.
Gardenia was a meek maid in the employ of a cruel lord. She had very little control over how she worked, or even how she lived. Gardenia hated her life but she was always kind to the little animals that lived on her lord's grounds, empathizing with them. One day, a faerie princess Frithaya saw the girl feeding scraps to mice and took pity on her. He asked her what she wanted, and she said, "Above all else, I wish for the power to live on my own terms, and I'd do anything to get it." The faerie Frithaya bade Gardenia to promise her firstborn and to slay her cruel lord with her magical gifts, and henceforth did Gardenia earn a reputation as a mighty and powerful witch.
It came to pass that Gwinett was tasked by a king to deal with the upstart witch, but Gwinett fell in love with Gardenia instead and vowed to serve her as majordomo. Gardenia, too, found Gwinetts clever mind and tongue most charming, and together they fought against the rightful rulers of the land, upending centuries of peace and tradition in favor of anarchy and chaos. Peasants fooled by promises of freedom flocked to the witch and wizard, and for years they held firm against the brave knights of the realm.
Gardenia became gravid with child, but the prideful couple feared naught. They hadn't even told one another the full nature of their pact, believing themselves invincible and devilishly clever indeed. They named the baby Halthex, but upon the infant's cries both Baazphemet and Frithaya appeared. The demon and the faerie both claimed the child, and Gwinett and Gardenia said "You both desire the child, but only one of you can take Halthex. Who shall it be, we wonder?", attempting to set their patrons against one another.
And demon and faerie did fight, but as they fought they tore the mewling Halthex in twain, each taking their half of the body in bitter victory. In fury at mortal trickery, Baazphemet cursed Gwinett to be an imbecile, and Frithaya stole Gardenia's will to power. Without his mind Gwinett could no longer devise strategems against the armies of the king, and without her will Gardenia could not rouse herself from her grief.
So did the rebellion fall, and the wizard and witch were put to the flame. Order was restored and righteousness reigned ever after. And if you should trifle with powers beyond your station and profane the divine, by the flames of Hell and the chaos of the Fae, so too will it end in disaster, children.
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l3zyh2y
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l3zwlbd
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[WP] The villain has won. You and your friends lay, exhausted and defeated at his feet as the ritual is completed and the dark god summoned. You are no less stupefied when all that appears is a sticky note bearing the words, "yeah, sorry guys. Apocalypse cancelled. Just not feeling it anymore."
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"This is it! The End is here!
We win!", the villain laughs, as my friends and I lay defeated on the floor.
The surrounding palace is filled with rubble, aftermath of our battle, and...
And the blood, and remains of all the royals.
A sacrifice to summon: He Who Devours, the Dark God that the Gluttony Archbishop worships.
The ritual is completed, and with a beam of red light, a yellowed piece of parchment slowly floats down.
The villain, his henchmen, and all of us look confused, as the parchment slowly settles in the villain's hands.
"Stop it Archbishop!
Think of all the lives! Think of the planet itself!", one of my friends shouts, trying to appeal to the last part of the villain that is human.
Sadly, I personally don't think he has one.
"This...This...WHAT IS THIS!", he roars, as his power erupts once more, the shockwave pushing us away.
We spit blood, injured further, but the Archbishop does the same, as he kneels, and keep coughing.
His henchmen ran up to him, but as they got closer, dark shadow spikes impale all of them.
"For The Dark God!", the henchmen chant, as they shrivel up, their essence devoured by the Archbishop.
The villain keeps consuming his henchmen, until only he and we remain.
He staggers, as tremblingly standing up, he looks at us.
"No...No...No...No!", he screams, pulling at his hair, flying away through the roof.
Rubble, dust, blood, and mummified remains are all that we see...and a yellowed old parchment.
After resting for a while, I walk up slowly to the parchment, reading it.
I can't believe my eyes.
"What is it? What made that crazy fella crazier?", one of my friends asks.
"Sorry guys, Apocalypse is cancelled. I am just in no mood to wreck havoc.
Call me in a century or so. Peace!", I read out loud what was written on the parchment.
"What is this...", some mutter.
I sigh.
"Let's thank the Goddess that this "He Who Devours", is as moody as his followers, but in a lazier way...", I try to joke, but it doesn't matter.
Apocalypse is averted, but an entire kingdom was lost to the Church of Gluttony...
And if they could do it with such a relative ease once...who is to tell they can't do it again...
|
It was over.
Before someone became a hero they read the legends over and over again. They heard the stories, followed the narratives, the arcs.
It wasn't supposed to end like this. Stories didn't end like this. Heroes didn't die like this.
But staring over at Marcus' cooling corpse on the ground, it'd become clear to Ashling that reality didn't care what things were 'supposed' to be. She'd followed every step, every guideline, each and every part of a complete journey and it hadn't been anywhere near enough.
The Dark Lich Venizierloomed over the dismantled party, his cold arcane gaze washing over the mix of dead and fallen in the room. Ashling was the only one with enough stength left to lift her head, but that didn't mean she garnered any more of his attention. It just bought her a front row seat to his acension.
"How dissapointing," the Lich's voice was cool but hateful at the same time, "so confiedent and yet, so fragile. Just like the others."
Ashling had gotten disarmed in the fight, her holy blade flying across the room in the first seconds of entering Venezier's chambers. That had been the beginning of the end for her party... but then she'd gotten thrown around too.
As the only one with the strength to lift her head, Ashling saw her holy sword lying on the cold tile. If she could find the strength within herself, she could reach it and give her team a blessed chance. The holy warrior didn't dare take a deep breath to steel herself, so she did without.
One hand in front of the other.
Venizier floated to the front of the room, he didn't walk anywhere anymore, where his altar to the Dark Gods stood. How many of these Gods had he consumed? How many diivinities had he swallowed? It seemed impossible to forget but after millenia even the sharpest minds shaved off excess information. In the end, this was the only Dark God that mattered. The last one. If he consumed this spark of divinity, he could be the only thing left in this world with any power.
One hand in front of the other for Ashling. One leg at a time. Staying quiet.
Venizier would be the only one left. The only thing in ths wretched world he'd spent so long molding into his image. He could finally....
Finally what?
If Ashling's arms were just a little longer, or if she was a little taller, she could have reached her sword. She would have gotten there. Instead, Venizier's staff pressed down on the blade, the Lich flashing into existance in front of her a moment after he'd pinned her blade. She cried out, not in pain but in horror.
Venizier, the Dark Lord that had ruled the land for thousands of moons loomed over the would-be-hero as she puled on the blade, her strength waning each time.
What was he doing? What was the purpose of this? This was just....
Ashling pulled her blade free and staggered to her feet, but by the time she'd levelled her weapon, the Lich was gone. Venizier was missing, and the rest of her party was dead or dying.
Ashling dropped to her knees again. There woudn't be an apocolypse, but that didn't mean it wasn't the end of her world.
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jp71o1g
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jp6zbfp
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[WP] The group of new humans who just joined your ship begin to act weird about the humans already present...they keep mentioning something call the uncanny valley? Maybe this is a place on Sol?
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Tom, the human medic, had always been a bit of a problem.
The other humans said he was gruff, had seen too much, something zar’kan couldn’t really understand. How could a human see to much? The toparaz had a 360 degree field of vision and could see spectrum of light the humans referred to as ultraviolet. Compared to the thoran vision zar’kan possessed that was almost nothing, and none of them acted the way Tom did.
But Tom was particularly good at his job, he knew the anatomy of every single crew mate to the point that he had brought several of them back from the brink of death. He was even able to reattach Droakkas’ arm. A feat that changed medical history for the amphibian race of qualoids. None of their species had ever survived a loss of a limb, and yet tom fixed it. The humans even had a word for it “amputation” such a strange but strong species.
It seemed strange to Zar’kan that humans could loose limbs and carry on, but have problems because of the things they had seen. Untill the day came that he understood.
The call came in the rest hours, a mayday from a human ship near by the andromeda system, Zar’kan groggily got dressed as he pressed the call button for the human rescue squad. He dreaded that Tom was on duty tonight, but Marcus was a delight. Though not as skilled as tom.
Zar’kan found the human rescue squad waiting in the bay, he saw the damaged ship being brought to the force field, the field extending out over its airlock, humans started to poor out into the hangar bay. They seemed like every human Zar’kan had ever Sean before, no eyestalks, or mandibles, two appendages coming down from their torso, two hanging at their side. Everything felt normal. Untill he looked at tom.
The gruff human was holding his pistol to a human child’s head.
“Tom!” Zar’kan shouted “what are you doing!”
Tom didn’t respond to the question, instead he looked at the croud of humans gathering in the hanger and spoke “you have five seconds to show the truth, or I start shooting” he said, his voice was oddly calm. Marcus on the other hand was visibly shaking, and white as the blooms of etherthin on the home world.
Time began to count.
One
Two
Zar’kan tried to protest, to tell Tom this is no way to treat refugees, they were honor bound by the federation to help them.
Four.
“Tom you skipped three!” Zar’kan shouted.
He watched as Toms finger tightened on the trigger, pulling twords firing a round directly into the child’s head. But then Zar’kan noticed, the child didn’t show any of the signs of fear he had been briefed on in children.
Five, Tom said as he pulled the trigger, the sound of the round flying though the child into the floor was immense, but the child stood unmoving. A moment later Zar’kan was on the ground, Marcus somehow beside him and Tom on top of him shouting.
He watched as forcefields slammed shut between the humans standing in the hanger and the three of them.
“Space them and blow that ship to hell” he heard Tom say, as he saw the humans break apart into smoky monsters.
“Tormathu!” Zar’kan cried, he though the shapeshifters who feasted on spacers were a myth. He began to shout orders into his comm link, and watched the creatures get sucked into the void, before photon torpedos ripped their ship to bits.
When he composed himself he looked to Tom, and asked “how did you know?”
“They all had six fingers on their left hand.” Tom said as he began to walk back twords his cabin. Marcus still lay simply trying to breath.
Perhaps humans could see far more than Zar’kan imagined
|
"I just can't get it", the lanky one said. He had introduced himself as some type of weapon, a sharp bit on a stick. "There doesn't really seem to be anything wrong with them but that's almost the problem. Even their flaws seem planned."
A smaller and rounder one responded: "I think you just put what I was trying to work out into words. There's no way those are humans. But they are so polite I can't help feeling they'll be on my neck the instant I turn away. I feel like a snack that's ripening."
This one was muscular with a fiery mop up top. "I guess we have to decide what we're going to do. It's not like we can stay in our ship any longer."
Personally, I didn't know what was going on but when offered a gig that paid that well I didn't need to worry about anything that didn't threaten my ship. These humans that came with me never bothered to explain themselves. I mean, we weren't supposed to be servicing that planet anyways or so the icy ring around the place said bright and clear. I'm not sure how these creatures came by their money but their money pouches never seemed to run out.
"We want to come live with you on your planet. Will you hear us out?" said the human with the deep voice.
"It's not like I feel I have a choice" said Red.
"Come on, we'd be dead of hypoxia by now if they hadn't come. You know that as well as I do. The company doesn't let anyone come out without starving them of oxygen at some point. Have to remember how that felt. I shook for a week after it." said Spear.
That's probably true, I thought. The humans who paid me had insisted on a scary high amount of oxygen to be able to come on board. It took a while to fix the ship up to be able to handle it. Like I said, deep pockets. Their little ship had only a fraction of the levels I had to deal with.
"We're not what you think we are" said another human with a balanced voice.
"Of course you aren't!" screamed Pear. "So what are you?"
"As best as we can tell? We're the same thing as you. A colony of cells made to make more of itself. Except you think of yourself as existing in your brain. We actually exist in every cell in our entire bodies. We think from that level. We really don't have a shape ourselves that you can understand except to think of something like your mitochondria." said the last human with a high pitched voice.
"Except instead of bringing power we're bringing knowledge. Not so much about technology but about yourself. Right now your communication systems are run by all sorts of electricity and hormones floating around in the system. It's amazing but it's slow. We don't want to get rid of the old way but live along side it."
"Our goal is to live. Humanity has done strange, horrifying and wonderful things and we want to be a part of it. We want to come swim in the soup that flows through your bodies and experience it all along with you. Not just you three but all of you on your planet."
"And why would any of us want this? What you are talking about is horrifying?" shouted Pear.
"Because our entire culture is based on complete consent. It has to be other wise we'd constantly be at war with ourselves. It's going to take a while to work our way back to your planet and we can try to convince you and if we fail you can simply leave. But if you choose to let us join with you it's going to be permanent"
"We'll eventually work our way around to every person on your planet and offer them the same choice, with the same option to refuse. We're sure with all those billions of people you have there we'll find someone who will accept our offer. You really have no idea how amazing you all have it. All you need to do is shake our hands willingly and we can begin."
Well, I had my directions and I took both humans exactly where they asked and got out of there as quietly as I could. No sense getting the authorities involved, right?
​
"You want to explain to me where my ship is and how the fuck you made it back here? Where are the other two? You drop communication and somehow show up back on the station and in perfect health without a ship coming into dock and I'm not supposed to freak out?"
"Boss, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. Good thing I'm not the only one here to try and explain...."
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meo7bow
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meo05nh
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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.
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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...
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I wake up only to see strange lights coming into my room, and see flying cars blitz in front of my windows.
Flying cars?
I stand up, and the room's lights automatically turn on.
A robotic voice wishes me good morning, and announces me that I have a message.
"Message?" I mutter, but I guess the voice heard me as it relays the message.
I listen, confused, and baffled, frozen by the end of it.
I am in the world of the last video game I played, and I have to stay alive for 100 days, or I will die in the real world.
No mods.
I sigh, as I watch a uniform hanging in the corner, the Systems Alliance uniform.
Okay, Mass effect 3 was the last game I played, so this means shit is about to hit the fan.
Am I in the early game of ME3 or the Reapers already attacked?
Am I on a colony planet or am I on Earth? or worse...the Citadel?
Terrified, I look through my stuff, and memories hit me like a truck.
I am a pilot in the Alliance's fleet, on vacation on a small forest planet owned by the Salarians.
It used to be a research world, but they exhausted the materials, and transformed it into a tourist attraction.
Good, if my skills and experience are real, I can either go to a wasteland planet, and stall those 100 days, or just roam space, hoping I don't meet any Reaper, or Pirates.
I make an inventory of my resources, and spend my credits on a high-grade survival suit, heavy pistol and ammo, and water and food supplies.
I load them in my ship, and ready myself to leave.
The world is at peace, at least for now, and the news channel are still silent about the reaper attacks.
It seems I am at the beginning of the game, before the Reapers attacked us.
It's good news, because this way, I know that if I avoid the main systems, I have a good chance of survival.
I downloaded some survival demos, and articles about flora and fauna in hundreds of systems, to learn, and have at hand when I travel.
As I finish my last preparation, someone knocks on my door.
With a trembling hand, I open the door, as the existential dread just becomes physical.
Shephard stand there with a wry smile, and a black box.
"Hey Ace, long time no see." he says.
Ace...yeah, that's my name.
"Hey Shephard, what's up?" I asked.
He salutes me.
"Flight Lieutenant Ace, with a heavy heart, I came today to notify you, that your brother Flight Lieutenant Joker, Quartermaster of Normandy...has passed away in action." he said, giving me the box.
I froze, and took it mechanically.
"I know this is not a good time, and it's not public news, but we are at war Ace...and we need a pilot.
The galaxy needs you." he said.
Well, there goes my plan on surviving 100 days on a shitty planet...
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mepqzsz
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mepcgyg
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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.
|
You ever have one of those dreams where you're falling?
Yeah. My day started kinda like that.
I fell, or, well, seemed to fall right into the body of some poor schmuck in the middle of a forest with a chest and four torches in front of him. At this point, I had no clue what the everloving f**k was going on, but I figured I might as well get that chest open.
One iron axe, several planks, a wooden hoe, a stone shovel, and a dirty note.
'You must survive 100 days in the last game you played, or you die in real life. All mods are turned off for the duration.'
Huh. Neat.
I'm in Vanilla f**kin Minecraft.
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I wake up in a green glowing forest, the barrier wall behind me and parts of my car floating around me. I run down a creek and out of the currently irradiated zone toward a lone flashing headlight.
“Hello, hello? I could’ve sworn… ah never kind”
I could hear someone speaking through the speakers of a badly beat up car snuggled in a dilapidated shack, one wheel sitting off the side. This wasn’t a game, or it was less of one to me. It took me a bit to get the spare tire on.
“Wait there it is again! Ah, this is Tobias Barlow located in mid zone sector c, we’re picking up your distress signal somewhere in the outer zone! Francis leave that interferometer alone for a second, this is important!”
I drive like hell towards Oppy’s Auto Shop, or the car I can siphon gas from along the way. Tobias and Francis are going off about my ride being a remnant but I’m too caught up in pumping the gas out of a dead car to listen. As I pour my siphoned fuel into the tank hot dust anomalies spawn around me.
I floor it and take the beat up car up a drainage ditch and through a set of rusted gates, a tire popping off as I go through. I stop just outside the shop and catch my breath, thinking about what I’m going to do.
After a few minutes I head in and turn the power on, much to the chagrin of Dr. Ophelia Turner. I ignore her and get to repairing my car as much as I can, I have to take a Pacific Drive.
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l1ayalb
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l1axzsd
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[WP] Your people are migratory, following the ancient constructor mechs as they cross the planet, building fabulous cities. You cant stay in one place too long, because always behind you are the ancient war mechs.
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The Shaman danced for the Towers where we are resting today. The Towers welcomed us with opening doors and The Gift of Food and Water. The Week of Plenty began.
It was about time. The trek from the last Towers were long, and we got into a sandstorm, which made us lose one pregnant woman. Back then the Shaman exclaimed that this was because we overstayed our welcome in the previous Towers.
I was not there, I as a Scout was following the Burrower Machines laying the pipes to find the next Tower in our Forever Trek.
I was sad, as the woman was mine.
Unlike the others, we Scouts have only two days of rest. We have to go on to find the next place. Fortunately we are moving towards wetter places, where there is life and food outside of the Towers.
We swap the sandstorms to hurricanes, of course.
This time the Burrowers were easy to find - they were not in too deep so their trace was visible, we did not have to listen every hundred steps, backtrack, listen again. We were back with the Tribe in three days, and then we just enjoyed the life.
The best is to play with the Self Checkout Machine! You go into the Place With Foods, grab something and run out. The Machine will follow you, screeching about "shoplifting", whatever that it is. You run towards a chasm, jump through it, and watch as the Self Checkout Machine falls down.
The Self Checkout Machine is like a feeble War Machine, said the Shaman and sacrificing them keep the real ones at bay, so whenever we kill one the Shaman takes a little trophy from it.
It was a fabulous week, with food, clean water, medicine, but nothing lasts forever. This morning we woke to a Red Dawn. The Shaman says that this is the War Machines burning the previous Towers. We have to Trek again.
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\*\*\*THUD\*\*\*
I awake, the ominous announcement of our ever present pursuers stirring me from my slumber.
"Ailen, we have to MOVE" my father yells, panic evident in his voice as I jump to my feet.
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
When I was young my mother told me tales of the ancient times, before we had to keep moving. The histories say that in her great, great, great grandmother's time, we could wander freely and live where we pleased. The histories also tell of the invention of the first constructor, a marvel. The tale goes that we would never again toil with the sweat of our brow, the callous of our hands. It was meant to create Eden, the truest utopia we could ever imagine.
Instead, by the machination of man, there was created it's adversary. As surely as there needed to be shadow to follow the light, the war mechs needed to destroy that which the constructors could create. We were unprepared. We did not know.
The histories always were light on the details of "The Night of Crimson Dawn" but one thing was always whispered in hushed tones to older children. A warning of the horrors of being caught unaware by a war mech, and the great destruction it was designed to wreak.
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
I stagger out of our home for the night, still dazed at the sudden alertness demanded of me.
\*\*\*THUD\*\*\*
I stumble, and as I fall I see it. They were always visible on our distant horizon, one of the many titanic quadrupedal mech. This one was closer. Much too close. This one I could see in great design, it's baleful red "eyes" and a face meant to be a perfect mockery of a human staring down at us.
"Get on the horse, and RUN" my father commands, his panicked eyes darting all around us as he realizes we have been left behind by our traveling companions. \*"They were supposed to be on watch tonight"\* I realize absently, as I climb on the horse and kick him into a gallop.
By the time I take a breath, I realize my father is not with me. I glance behind for sight of him, but cannot see him. I realize that in my panic and hurry, I failed to notice that there was only a single horse outside our dwelling for the night. Before I can think to turn around for him, I am blinded. A flash of brilliant crimson light ignites behind me. As it dims I realize that both him, and the city we called home for a night have vanished. Vaporized as if they were never there.
A tear falls from my eyes as I weep for my loss. My tears dry, and all that is left is rage.
I ride on into the night.
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jocwxoj
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jobksdf
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[WP] After battling your way to the final boss, you see… the merchant that bought your extra items? Anything you sold them can and will be used against you…
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The merchant stood in front of me, facing me atop the windswept bricks that make up the courtyard I had first met him on. I hadn't even realized he'd been opposing me until he choked out a laugh and taunted me for ever believing a merchant of his power would actually assist me. Perhaps, even, I understood what he had meant. He was everywhere, always willing to sell to me newer and better gear, never explaining where he had even acquired his equipment.
I was quite naïve to assume there wouldn't be someone of his caliber trying to stop me... but here we are, at the end of my long journey, just one thing stands between me and the corrupt king that held and iron fist over this land.
"Surely, you are prepared, hm?" The merchant said to me, a mocking tone weaved into the normal voice he had used to speak with me.
I merely stood there in silence. Despite everything, I had trusted this man. To parrot his own words... I am a noble man. But even noble men can feel bitter. I'd say, in fact, that I *deserve* to feel bitter.
"All that you have sold me... I will now use to put you down. You, my friend, are your own downfall." He mocks again, now reaching to retrieve an item with which to strike me. A smile creeps across my face as his hand fumbles around within his cloak, ultimately finding... nothing.
"Wh-what? I..." I begin to walk towards him. Slowly and steadily. He begins to panic as he does not find a single item on him. "I-I don't... I don't have any of my normal equipment on me, I thought-" The merchant is interrupted by my defiant, confident laugh.
"You- don't you laugh at me! Whatever plan you have, I have one better! The amount of damage your sword does, mine does more! Your highest healing potion is *trumped* by the ones I am in possession of! I advise you not approach me, fool, else I may strike you down with... my..." His words trail off. As I step into his mercantile range, he witnesses my inventory.
Stacked, filled to the brim with thousands upon thousands of items, all of them completely useless to me. Even my very first sword is among them, the one I used to fell my first goblin, and the one I used to strike down the bandit I had acquired my second sword from, that one sitting in the slot right next to my first. "But... but why? Why didn't you..." He asks, completely astonished, completely afraid. I speak for the first time in this interaction, my answer a simple one.
"Just in case."
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1. ​
"You see, were only getting to the fun part." The man in front of me smiles.
I know that face and that large leather bag. That wooden stall that seems to teleport between locations before even me, the hero.
I always found it strange, but, well, it *is* a different world...
I didn't even bat an eye when I sold him items in the *middle* of the dungeon. Like the many before it, he had always been in the mid-section of a dungeon. It was how just things worked.
His face has grown so familiar that I no longer feel any sort of awkwardness when confronting him. Like a lifelong friend, he is the only person that has been consistant with my travels.
Now, though, I understand. He was just playing with me. The battle has only just begun. The perhaps tens of thousands of items I have sold, he is in possession of. All of those crystals that were always too many for me to carry. Those used swords that didn't fit my grip any longer.
The used up spell books, the merchant has them all.
I smile. Finally, there may be a challenge to be fought.
"Let's play, merchant."
He pulls a sword out of his seemingly bottomless bag and I unsheath the sword that I have grown fond of over the past year.
​
**2.**
I open the door and I see a large line of demons confronting me.
"Huh?" I say. I knew this was the final step of my journey, but this is too much even for me.
My eyes drift across them until it eventually reaches the middle. My eyes stop and narrow at the man.
"... Merchant?"
He pulls out a stack of *human skeletons* from his seemingly infinite bag.
"ah. uh? *cough*." I choke as a realization slowly dawns on me.
He continues to pull out from his bag. A flute that belonged to the great wind spirit. Tens of blood crystals. Books of the darkarts...
"Anything that you have sold to me will be used against you in your trial." The merchant speaks with a deep voice that rumbles the halls.
"Trial?"
"Your actions have suggested one in the karmic will. And I can understand why."
The demons begin to converge towards me. My legs tremble. A knot forms in my throat. My sight goes dizzy. I run.
A fast pant leaves me as I continue to think in disbelief. Karmic will? A trial? Oh, no... My deeds...
A force comes upon me and I can no longer move. My legs lock and it feels like I have lost control of my body entirely.
"You are coming with us." The voices of the demons rock my very being.
The merchant points towards me and a gate of pure white opens.
"You told me..." My vision goes dark as the white envelopes me.
"You are not worthy of the hero title."
I am standing in a courtroom. The goddess that of which summoned me taking the position of judge. People I have met during my adventures as jury... My lawyer is gnomish looking man. He looks at me before back at his large stack of papers.
He sighs before whispering.
"Don't say anything and plead guilty. It is the most I can do to reduce your sentence."
The entire process goes through like a train of moments passing by in my mind. I am awoken from my trance as the gavel strikes.
"Sentence: 1,000 of rehab before serving 100 years of prison."
My mind blanks and I pass out.
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l3pinec
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[WP] "So, you want to apply to be a hero?" "Yup" "You saved your world?" "Yep" "But you didnt get the girl?" "She said no" "Couldnt you have, I dont know, tried harder?" "Dude...She said no"
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**Took a bit of a detour from the hero agency part, but here we go. Feedback is welcomed, and I hope you enjoy.**
**\~ \~ \~**
**\[??? - The Yellow Jacket\]**
"So, how'd it go?" The Jacket's friend asked, watching him return to his seat at the bar.
"She said no."
"What?"
"She said *no.*"
"What do you mean she said no? You're a superhero!"
"More of a super bounty-hunter, and I *mean* she said *no.* She wasn't interested."
"Dude, you should've tried harder, she's obviously playing hard to get."
"Two problems with that." The Jacket took a sip of their drink, "One, that was the most solid no I've heard in my life. Two, and more importantly, anyone who expects you to keep pursuing them after a no has got to be a masochist of some kind."
"That's d-"
"Yeah, no you're right, that's disrespectful... TO THE MASOCHIST! At least those nutcases give a rat's ass about consent."
"Y-"
"Dude... I cannot stress this enough. She... Said... No... Even if you're somehow right on this one, which you shouldn't be, all that'd mean is that she's an ass I don't wanna tap."
"...well alright then," the friend got up, "if you don't want to try, I will."
"Yeah, good luck with that," the Jacket quipped, knowing full well this'd only end in disaster.
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I was sat in front of a tribune, having been summoned on a whim for an interview. Apparently I was known.
Apparently, I need a Hero's Permit to enter some places, and the L.I has so far refused to mingle with other organisations at the level needed to make my existing permits valid for those realms.
As it's common practice for the Legionsworn Initiative to let it's operatives act on their own interests, I became vividly aware of a need to secure such a permit because of how we do our part 'out here in the wild', as a tall friend of mine would describe... this.
The interview skewed the conversation towards romance and women. I held firm. Not that I already have a number of female friends who'd be seething if they knew these interviewers were trying to encourage the idea of forcing myself on a woman...
...Which is not the way of things. I glared at them, and had murmured a short-duration silencing spell to make them think hard about their next words.
The minute passes. Despite the silencing, they still are asking questions about what kind of women I'm into.
So I shake my head, push from the table, and get up with such a flourish the chair falls over. My faceplate assembles itself.
"This exchange is over." I mutter, before turning to-
There is a YoRHa 2B series android with a tower shield and staff at the door.
Thankfully my virtual accomplice has begun to commune with her, and I'm approaching said door.
For a moment her eyes flash with a lensflare of green, but then flicker, as if she had a change of mind. She compacts herself into a compressed, guard-idle posture as I pass before returning to her previous door-blocking motion only to turn around with a surprised look.
Surprised doubly-so because I've just rounded a corner in a corridor without cameras or witnesses.
I slip out of the plane.
She rounds the corner and finds nothing. She returns to the interviewers and apologises, explaining that some kind of AI had gotten into her and had her hesitate.
I wouldn't've known it then, but yet another corrupt Hero's Association seems to have me marked.
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ks3gqco
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ks2ag7w
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[WP]It seems your children went on an adventure in a magical world. Now that their back you're finding it difficult to parent when they have the bodies of children but over 20yrs of memories of living in a fantasy realm.
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I unlock and drop my keys in the basket hanging besides the door, before turning to the sulking teen behind me.
"Edmund, we need to talk. Sit at the table please."
Edmund nods frustratingly at me before walking to the dining room. I enter the powder room in the hall to check my makeup. In the mirror, I see a mother whose children have somehow outgrown all their peers overnight.
Just be as kind as you can. Remind him that you'll always be here.
Taking a deep breath, I join my son in the dining room.
Except that I don't recognize this person any more. Gone was the Edmund who would whine about the smallest things, who would be jealous of his older brother, or sneak into my room during thunderstorms. In his place, is this... king(?), sitting ramrod straight, feet flat on the ground.
I take a seat next to him. "Edmund, look at me."
Begrudgingly, he turns his head. Before I can speak again, the words leave his mouth. "Mother, I am not a kid. These educators cannot keep treating me like one. I am a warrior, a king! This is unbecoming of my status."
There he goes again.
"Look, Edmund. I don't know what games you and your siblings played, but you are still a child. Please act like one, even if you don't like it." I purse my lips together. "This is the second time this week I've been called to your school, and I'd prefer there not to be a third."
"Mother, those kids were bullies. It would besmirch my honour to let their sins go unpunished. It's not my fault my teachers are imbeciles!"
Besmirch. How does a 10 year old even know that word? "I understand Edmund, it's just... sometimes you have to pick your battles. There's a better way to deal with bullies than breaking two noses, a collarbone, and half the school hallway."
"Mother, I'm sorry if you don't believe me. But it's true. We did spend more than 20 years in that country. We were forced to learn hard lessons, build ourselves into the rulers Narnia needed. We had to grow up fast, and nothing you say will change that, or bring us back to our younger selfs."
He's still ramrod straight, with a serious expression on his face. But his words give me an idea...
"Edmund." Slowly, as if taming a wild lion, I hold his hands in mine. "I believe you. You've changed a lot, mostly for the better, and you're more mature than you were before. You're no longer acting like my little boy any more. Whatever happened in that world, you're better because of it. But I sense that you didn't have the best time initially. I'm sorry you had to grow up fast, and that we couldn't be there for you when you needed us. I'm sure you missed me and your dad."
His face softens, just a bit.
"But now, you are still in a child's body. All the years you experienced, they're still in front of you in this world. You can grow up again. And this time, I'll be here."
Now he looks at me with tears in his eyes. And I can see it. My Edmund may now be different, with older mannerisms and more mature thoughts. But deep in his heart, he's still a child. My child. "So, what do you say? Will you grow up with me again?" He fidgets with his fingers before finally replying. "I guess I can try."
I smile at him and open my arms. As he falls into my embrace again, I hear his whisper in my ear.
"Thanks, mom."
​
.
​
For more references to pop culture visual media, check me out on r/17Stories!
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The warm smells of breakfast wafted through the halls of a still silent home in the early hours of the morning. The light shining in through the still closed blinds was a dull white in these opening days of winter. Its color faded away just as the leaves left behind by fall, the dull browns and grays that were to become the new normal penetrating into the home where it found itself welcome.
The kitchen began to light up with the sunrise, and the small stove light that alone had been watching over a lone man’s endeavors started to lose its purpose. He had not been up for long, just before the darkness lifted - long enough to cook a small feast for his beloved child asleep in the other room.
He had dressed himself in his night robe before stepping into the kitchen; his hair still unkempt and his cheeks not quite as smooth as his colleagues at the office were used to.
“I hope this works,” he thought to himself.
He remembered fondly memories that couldn’t have been more than a couple years old. His girl smiling and laughing, pouring a soup-full of syrup over a meager portion of pancakes. How she always asked for days afterwards for pancakes and syrup. Although he would have loved to have obliged, parenting required sacrifices — he had to look after her health. Sometimes doing the right thing required losing sight of her smile, if only for a short while. It had been a long while since he’d seen her smile.
It happened from time to time, he comforted himself by thinking. Although worse thoughts couldn’t help themselves from dancing through his brain. When she was younger it had been easy to dodge the questions about her mother. Perhaps it hadn’t been the right call. When the truth came out, it had been like this.
“I thought we’d gotten past it,” he sighed.
He relied heavily on his parents, who he was grateful to admit had taken perhaps a larger role than he himself had in raising his daughter.
“Watch your daughter”, his father had recently whispered to him. His mother beside him, her face a visage of harsh worry.
“Something’s not right,” She muttered in the background.
“What do you mean?” The man had asked, tersely. Their vagueness bothering him, a lifetime of rebuffing their superstitions adding daggers to his words. His daughter was safe, she went to a good school, they lived in a good neighborhood, she was rarely out of sight. What could possibly have happened to her?
“Listen to me, my child.” His father had insisted. “It pains me to express this to you, we are a family. We love our grandchild as if she were our own daughter. That is why I am telling you something is not right. All I’m asking is for you to open your eyes.”
He had set the table, and began to plate the pancakes and eggs onto each of their plates. “Breakfast’s ready!” He called out, and heard a door down the hall open and shut. Light footsteps grew gradually louder as a young girl entered the room. It was as if winter had come through the door with her: the heat of the stove was softly dying, and the inviting smells that had previously decorated their home grew stale.
She sat without a word, without a glance towards her father, and with an unknown grace and poise she began to eat. He walked up to her seat and knelt down on one knee to be on her level. She avoided his gaze, and turned to look away from him.
“My sunshine, what’s wrong? Why won’t you look at me?”
There was no answer.
“Look at me.” He commanded in a sterner voice.
The young child hesitated, and slowly turned to face her father. As their eyes met, his body shuddered in fear. These were not his daughter’s eyes. In another moment, her dark eyes dilated, and he found himself lost in the darkness. Years of emptiness seemed to pass, flashes of colors, of voices he did not recognize calling out to him. His thoughts faded into a blur as his self melted into him. He spoke and undecipherable sounds left his lips. Then there was nothing.
She had barely reached his gaze before he collapsed. She looked down at him, and a voice not quite her own spoke from her lips. “Listen to me, child. All I ask is that you open your eyes.
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mcfw4rc
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[WP] "Elves aren't particularly...impressed with humanity as a whole. But they VERY much like our knights...no, you don't understand- okay, let me put it this way. You ever read an erotica written by an elf? There is ALWAYS a human knight getting f***** in it."
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Ashlee muttered to herself and flipped the page. She smiled broadly and was onto the next page. Her reading had been like that all week.
Trace had read through two books a day for a month and hadn't found what they were looking for but Ashlee had been blasting through a series of books that he hadn't had a chance to read yet.
Curiosity and frustration rising, Trace spoke, "What are you reading? We're supposed to be scouring elven literature to help us figure out how to puncture the veil. My experience reading on the topic isn't really all that page turning."
She turned the front of the book to him and he deciphered the title. Puncturing The Veil: Fallus Fallen.
"That literally sounds exactly like what we're looking for. Have you found it? Are y-"
"I don't think we're gonna find what we're looking for in this book series but I've gotta check them all so," she glanced at the volumous tomb opened in front fo Trace, "you keep checking that stuff and I'll keep checking this stuff. Ok?
"What's it about? Is it legend?" Trace asked.
"Kind of." She smirked but her eyes continued to read the text.
"Is it about the veil?"
"It's about, uh, humans and elves, um," her cheeks flushed, "getting along.
"Humans and elves getting along? Elves hate us." Trace snorted
"Ummm, not all of us. It seems they fancy human knights." She looked at him over the top of the book and raised her eyebrows suggestively.
"What are you saying? Are you saying that you're reading is? Is it? Tell me it isn't. " His voice trailed off , and his eyes narrowed.
Ashlee read aloud,
"Fallus surveyed the battlefield, trying to decipher the chaos of the day.
Victory was nearly in hand, the elven commander wiped sweat and blood from his brow. The commanders soft skin contrasted his sharp features, perfectly opposite to Lancelot who's hard skin felt like elysium and his soft features those of the living God himself. His mind drifted to his beloved and then so did his eyes.
The contingent of human volunteers from the Veil held their line against the Orakus shock troops. His armor was easy to spot in the fray. Lancelot was the truest knight through and through, Fallus knew that harm would never befall him on the battlefield unless...
Oh no. Gods no.
Fivelta's battalion had crumbled against the giant LePhants and the pikers that defended them and the left flank of the mortal men was in peril.
If Fallus could never feel the inside of Lacelot again, his deep moans and hot breath! He-"
"Ok! I get it. Enough. Jeez." Trace was the one blushing now, "Do you really think that smut is going to help us with our research?"
"I won't know until I'm finished. Maybe when the series is over, we'll find out that Puncturing The Veil was love all along." She smiled as she spoke and continued to read.
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The elf twitched her brow. Her human companion just flat out doesn't know what they're talking about.
"Rosey, pass that by me again." The elf rolled her eyes.
"Kiyab... How many times I got to say this?" Rosey rolled her eyes. "Elves aren't particularly...impressed with humanity as a whole. But they VERY much like our knights...no, you don't understand- okay, let me put it this way. You ever read an erotica written by an elf? There is ALWAYS a human knight getting fucked in it." Rosey threw one of the very VERY few elven books in front of Kiyab. "Like literally all of them. I've read every one of those elven books in your library and they always have a knight getting fucked. I know you collect books just to archive them, since its your job, but there is nothing... "
"First of all, my **personal** library is *completely* separate from my work library." Kiyab growled as she picked up the book. "The **ONLY** reason I have books from my job is because I also do book repairs. I get paid for each book I repair separately, sometimes I run out of tools at my job and I have to run home to get the right ones but sometimes I leave books behind on accident." She carefully examined the spin of the book. "You remind me of which ones I've accidentally left but that isn't really much. Out of the one thousand books here, I only had 3 from my job."
"Okay, and?" Rosey asked, feeling the need to back up. Kiyab carefully put the book in one of her shelves and the tensioned thickened.
"And you're just straight up **wrong**." Kiyab turned back to her. "I just have a lot of knight erotica because **I** want to be the knight getting laid! I used to be a knight about 600 years ago until I lost my leg and they didn't have good enough, non magical prosthetics back then!"
"600 years?" Rosey was in shock.
"Yeah, 600! Not that long before that, I got cursed and stripped of my magic and had my EARS CUT!" Kiyab stomped on the floor causing a crack in her leg. "I read a lot of that erotica to find comfort and joy knowing that people can look at a nonmagical hic with a sword and and still find them beautiful and hot in hopes that someone will feel that way with me! This has **nothing** to do with elves *only* viewing knights as interesting, its me just having that fantasy!" Kiyab began to tear up as the pain shot through her leg stump. "You wouldn't fucking understand because **YOU** are a racist bitch who can't even put two and two together and at least notice that I have a particular style of book I like!"
"I didn't-"
"Shut the fuck up!" Kiyab accidentally knocked a vase on to the floor, shattering it. She looked down and sighed. "Leave. This isn't the first time you ranted about racist things and I told you..." She bent down to start picking up the bigger pieces. "I told you, one more of this shit and I'll never want to see you again. I don't care if its about other humans, I don't care if the rants were about orcs or dwarves... Racism is racism, point blank period... this is why I keep getting at your throat... why I started hanging with you less and less... This is why so many of the others left you... but I..." Kiyab left the pain in her leg get worse but kept going. "I made the mistake of staying with you... And now you want to come out of nowhere to shit on elves over... over this shit?" The tear fell down her face. "Just *leave.*"
Rosey was quite and began to step away before she heard Kiyab's last words.
"I don't even want to know what's wrong with wanting to fuck a hot human knight anyway... but I guess its only problematic because I'm an elf..." She ripped off her prosthetic revealing a small pool of blood.
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[WP] You were unlike the saints and saintesses of other nations. You granted no miracles, and didn't heal any illnesses. They didn't know when they banished you in favor of a new saint that you had been pouring every fiber of your being into a blessing of protection for the nation your entire life.
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"Did you hear the Saint of Osterland lead a charge against an Ork warband 5 times the size of her country's army and put them to flight after slaying the war chief in single combat?"
I nod, knowing full well I had redirected that warband towards Osterland by putting prophetic visions in the war chief's now severed head.
"Did you hear that the Saint of Mariensburg has been traveling round the clock performing miracles of healing against the new plague that sprung up there?"
Once again I nod with the knowledge that my market manipulations had caused the trade ships carrying the plague to dock in Mariensburg instead of our ports.
"What have you done for the kingdom recently?" was the question asked time and time again when the heroic deeds of my fellow saints came before the court.
I do not blame them, running into battle or performing healing miracles is what the traveling minstrels like to sing about. Decades of peace and a flourishing economy that doesn't have to rely on risky distant trade is what I provide and the king knows it. Unfortunately the king is not long for this world, and I fear the crown prince has been listening to the minstrels too much.
I was already packing my bags when news of the old king's passing was made known to the kingdom. I had my part to play in the crowning of the new king, but I doubted I would have any more parts to play in his upcoming reign.
Sure enough, when I returned to my quarters I found a new face there. She was pretty, well spoken, and had all these ideas of what she could do as the new spiritual conduit of the nation. We chatted for a bit, but our conversation went cold when she realized it was me who she was replacing. Fortunately my bags were already packed and I did not have to prolong the discomfort of the situation by hanging around.
I hear bards tales of my old kingdom from time to time. About how the new saint battled a fire for three whole days that ended up leveling half of the merchant's district. About how she led a team of paladins to fight off a dragon that was terrorizing the countryside.
I don't live anywhere near that kingdom anymore. It is far too dangerous.
|
As a Saint I thought my role, my fate to protect my nation, and that was what I did.
I didn't parade around healing minor injuries.
I didn't go around the Empire granting miracles to random individuals to further the Church's "good" image.
I was unlike the other Saints and Saintesses.
Yet I took my role seriously.
So when they banished me, exiling me to the Wastelands of the South, assigning a new Saintess, a young impressionable girl, I felt sad.
I have been pouring every fiber of my life, of my holy powers into a blessing of protection over the entire Empire's fate.
Weeks after I have left, a war broke out.
I saw the signs, and said my piece, yet I was ignored.
"Too young, too naive, too idealistic." they said I was.
I just pointed out the frequency of famines, and the quality of life differences we started to have on our borders, compared to our inner cities, and towns.
I was seeing a potential breach in our unity, a potential area of attack from outside.
And look: a civil war broke out, as the commoners had enough of starving, and dying of things that were easily curable in the inner parts of the Empire.
I barely left, and the fate already shifted.
This is what I was fighting against, the decaying fate of a wonderful nation.
We used to be powerful, we used to care for our citizens.
Not only out of goodness of our heart, obviously, no noble or ruler would truly care about everyone, but a good noble, a good ruler would agree on one thing: people are the nation.
Without farmers who would work the lands?
Without so many civilians how would generals, scholars rise?
Sure, the noble families are strong, blessed with bloodlines, and powers...but what is a family of a few thousands, compared to the hundreds of millions of commoners?
Alas my worries were found unfounded...and ignored.
So I poured my being into protecting the fate of the nation, hoping to at least hold the status quo as long as possible, as I hoped a good ruler would finally see the truth in my words.
I was childish.
Two months later, two foreign nations stepped in, trying to fish in these waters.
Citing the well-being of the continent, of the commoners, they denounced the current leadership, and offered their "help" in choosing a new leader, one who cared for the people.
The rebels, helped by two nations whom were weaker than our's were proving to be a true headache for the nation.
After all, they couldn't really kill millions of commoners, as that would just thrust the fence-sitters into the rebels' arms.
I watched it all unfold from a small hut, inside a dead zone area in the Wastelands.
I slowly purified the lands, returned the undead to their peaceful rest, and grew my strength.
Biding my time, I waited.
Waited for a chance to return, and bring peace to the nation, to help my people, to protect them...as I didn't care I was banished or not.
Once a Saint...always a Saint.
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jsq712y
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jspn5d0
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[WP] Aliens have entered the solar system. But instead of establishing first contact they beeline for the sun and begin to set up the construction of a dyson sphere, ignoring any attempts at making contact.
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The human civilisation ended in five flashes. Five pulses of immense energy that hit Earth, Venus, Mars, Titan and Callisto, evaporating their seas and cracking them open. The cradle of humanity and her four daughters ceased to exist in the blink of an eye. What was left was research and mining colonies on the moons of the gas giants and nomads living in the asteroid belts, now all orphans having watched the only habitable planets in the solar system reduced to rubble. Three days after the flashes, two enormous ships entered the system. They were both twice the size of earth, and could move near lightspeed. One approached Mercury, and started to break it apart. The other positioned itself on top of Jupiter, and started to siphon its atmosphere. The survivors threw what little weaponry they had left at the invaders, to no avail. Warships where swatted away like flies, and redirected asteroids were simply absorbed like the planets they were harvesting.
What was left of humanity tried to contact the ships, fruitlessly begging for an explanation for why Humanity was facing extinction. Why their home was being torn apart and collected. They never received an answer. Never a word of threat, of apology or any attempts to rationalize their actions. Humanity does not know the name of the beings that broke its cradle, nor does it know what they look like. They could be biological, machines or something far beyond mans imagination. It was unknowable. What they knew was silence. Deafening silence as the ships cannibalized the remains of the solar system.
The invaders left the outposts alone until it was their time to be harvested. Everything that could be salvaged and everyone that could be saved were put into any spacefaring vessel that could take them. The invaders let them leave. Paid them no mind as they formed haphazard flotillas of civilian vessels, mining ships and decommissioned warshis, all scrambling to reach the terrifying emptiness of the void beyond the broken solar system. The Takers, as humanity called their evictors, had started to build a structure around the Sun. They had stamped out the anthills, and to chase down the ants escaping their destroyed homes was simply not worth the effort.
Some flotillas set course for nearby solar systems, trying to reach the settlements seeded by humanity’s adventure amongst the stars. It would take four years for a message to reach Proxima Centauri, the nearest star, and four decades for the ships to reach it. Others decided to simply try their luck in the void, fearing that what had happened in Sol had happened elsewhere. So they put their faith in their machines, and that they had enough resources to make themselves selfsufficient. For the journey they embarked upon would never end. They were to become perpetual nomads, floating unseen in the emptiness between the stars.
They watched as Sol became dimmer, the Takers enigmatic contraption encased it more and more as they left it behind. Other stars started to dim too, further hardening the nomads resolve to stay in the void. The Takers had not only taken their home, but every other place that they could ever hope to call a home. They resigned to the idea that they would never see a sun ever again. To never feel the wind upon their faces, to never feel snow or sand beneath their feet. To never see the sunset reflected in an ocean stretching past the horizon.
Yet they kept going. Partly out of spite for the beings that had annihilated their home, who had taken everything they had. Most importantly, they kept going out of hope. Even in in the face of complete oblivion, the human spirit endured. Men and women worked tirelessly to keep their moving home afloat, feeding off scraps that their adversaries let float into nothingness. They were fuelled by a burning hope of a paradise that not even their grandchildren could imagine stepping foot upon. A marvelous dream of a world, surpassing Earth in its beauty. Eons passed as this world shone like a beacon ahead of them, parting the void with its brilliance. Eden, as they called it, had a million different visages, each unique to everyone who dreamt of it.
They would find it, and it would far surpass their wildest imaginations. It would no longer be the cramped quarters that they grew up in, it would not smell like rust and dust, it would not feel like steel and look like something that had kept going way beyond its expiration date. It would not be like the old degraded pictures of Earth and its daughters. It would be something entirely new. And it would have a sun, maybe even several suns. They would shine with a pleasant heat that the fluorescent lights of the flotilla could never match. Eden was out there somewhere, and it would be the one jewel that the Takers haven’t snatched.
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The shuttle launched from Cape Canaveral on a snowy Summer morning.
The thermal-controlled painted lettering running up the sides of the rocket boosters seemed very crowded for having to fit the contributing NASA, ESA, and even China's CNSA logos. From the safe viewing point, distant to the launch pad, many observers commented on how the paint job itself seemed a bit rushed, as if this finishing touch of the agencies' signatures only just made it onto the rocket before it was rolled out of the assembly tower. One of the many children present tugged on their mother's arm and asked what "Nasaesacnsa" means. The mother told them it means we're all in this together.
Under normal circumstances, a daring pace to launch a manned spacecraft from earth to the sun might be suggested at say twenty-eight months. The trajectory of the shuttle's orbit stretching into longer and longer ellipticals during each slingshot around our planet. After three laps, maybe four, the craft would eventually pass the threshold of the gravitational tug-of-war between the Sun and the Earth, sinking slowly into a long spiraling descent towards the center of the solar system, like a leaf in a whirlpool.
Since our current circumstance falls very far from 'normal,' an alternate travel plan was put together. This being less like the passive sinking of a leaf in a whirlpool and more like a wild chimp swinging through high branches while trying to outrun a forest fire.
With all the world's money, computing power, and free coffee, the best scientists and mathematicians in the field were able to calculate a flight path consisting of just one lap around the Earth (at an insanely low orbit), a slingshot around the Moon, a near-suicidal orbit *against* the rotation at Venus, shooting the craft straight towards the Sun. And if, by the grace of whatever Gods can outlive this experience, the shuttle makes it all the way to the Sun, any alteration of even a hundredth of a second of a degree in the escape from Venus would result in either a direct hit into the Sun's surface (or possibly the metal construct itself) or send the craft too wide and doom the crew into an eternal stable orbit around the dark star.
But, if all goes well, the shuttle could be expected to reach the aliens in only twelve and a half months.
Needless to say, tensions were high this Winter. On Christmas, the ice sheets of Arctic circle reached the shores of Scotland. So many climate refugees that had already been through hell to reach the U.K. from their native Iceland, Sweden, or Norway were now joined by the Scots in what has been dubbed 'The Equatorial Exodus.'
On Valentine's day, any refugees lucky enough to find themselves on 'tropical' islands (now long past their days of romantic getaways) could look up in the early dawn and catch the wonderfully alarming view of the smiling half-moon and the equally half-split sun.
On Easter Sunday, the shuttle sent confirmation back to Earth that the retrograde orbit of Venus had been a success. The gift of hope spread across the slim band of the globe that remained habitable. And though Christianity had taken a heavy blow at the discovery of alien lifeforms, the new new Pope's public Urbi et Orbi about resurrection sent ripples of unbridled optimism far and wide.
Spring arrived late, but Summer never even showed her face.
By September, as the tilt of the globe began to favor the southern hemisphere, (that since March has been nothing but barren ice fields from horizon to horizon), human society had been reduced to three hold outs along the equator: Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia; Kisumu, Kenya; and Quito, Ecuador. A few underground societies of former multi-billionaires were said to exist somewhere under the ice fields of New Zealand, but most remaining scientists were skeptical of this.
By the time Earth's astronauts reached the metal shell of the dyson sphere, there was no one back on Earth to tell. This little handful of survivors still dutifully sent all the prepared material that was meant to plead a case for the safety of humankind, and while they couldn't imagine what to expect from this alien race (which had been stubbornly silent until now), they found the space travelers both surprisingly kind and overwhelmingly sympathetic to their emotional concerns.
"Dear Nasaesacnsa people," read the pre-translated message on the shuttle's computer screen, "we cannot imagine what amount of courageous initiative it must have taken to journey so far from your land by such archaic means. Our people can only hope to one day possess a level of determination equal to that of your culture. We humbly apologize for the past transgressions of our species and wish there was someway to amend your suffering. We admire your species's ability to holdfast your personal values and pass them down from generation to generation. As a species whose lifespan is approximately what you may call 'an hour,' we humbly look upon you sages of a past world with the reverence of what you may call 'Gods.' Though the atrocities you speak of have long since passed, we would be honored to erect a monument of your people in any public park of your choosing. Since a list of names of our public parks would convey no meaningful information to you of their prominence in our society, please select a number between one and twelve and we will be happy begin construction. My future decedents look forward to your eventual response.
\-Signed, Pope-equivalent Saint K>e9hf2 the 80134th."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Thanks for reading. Find more at r/FarFetchedFiction
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lu4vkr0
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lu4vf9o
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[WP] You are a gladiator that can win fight after fight against even the most powerful wizards. Your secret? You were cursed as a kid to nullify any magic that came close to you.
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This had worked so far, except of course the normal wizards relied on magic to fight, arming themselves with magic armour, swords and using spells. But as Chad the Wizard tossed me easily across the room with the words "Do you even lift bro?" I realised that the obvious weakness to my power was what I had overlooked.
Chad ripped off his robe, his improbably huge muscles made more defined by the candlelight. He walked over to a table of weapons glowing faintly from their magical property, but Chad chose instead lifted a huge dull looking hammer whose only magical property will be mass combined with inertia powered by swoleness against my pointlessly helmeted head.
"I wonder though young Brad" Chad paused as he limbered up for the deathstroke "Is your ability to cancel out magic permanent or does the magic come back?"
I could talk quickly when I needed to and I started to explain "Well first it only works on powers used against me, so when most wizards attempt to zap me with their power, they lose all magic in their bodies, and as most are using magic to remain living for hundreds or thousands of years, they just die on the spot."
"Then no wizard, no ability to channel magic, not even regeneration spells" Chad spoke like he already knew about my power and was only making polite conversation. I realised that now was the time to make the deal of my life, literally.
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I was the Champion of the Colosseum of the Damned.
A gladiator in profession, a slave in nature, captured to be the toy of mages, and wizards of all ages, wanting to "fight" to death.
It was funny, because all gladiators were...magicless, that's from where the "Damned" comes, after all...in our world, magic is sign of authority, and those without are seen as...lesser.
Yet...I never lost, not even against wizards centuries old.
Why?
I was cursed as a child to nullify any magic.
It was a curse at first, for I couldn't be healed, and I almost died to diseases countless times.
It was a curse for it meant I will never become a mage, and thus...I became a slave.
And then...it became a blessing, for no spell could land on me.
I honed my instincts, my body to the peak, and here I am.
I got status. I got power. I am the Champion.
Nobles, and royals ask me to be their sparring partner, and that I am.
Not a target dummy, not a toy...but a sparring partner, paid by hour to help the hone their spells.
I got it good...until today.
I faced my newest enemy...the first non-mage opponent: a dragon.
This is a common practice in other colosseums, making the gladiators face creatures and beasts, and captives from other races...
But the Colosseum of the Damned is the personal playground of the mages...
I would have never thought...
I watched as the towering figure of the dragon approached me, then I looked up, into the stands...where my "sponsor" shook her head at me.
Oh...it seems I upset the wrong mage this time...
I rolled out of the dragon's claws way, but its tail came quickly afterwards, hitting me in my waist.
I was sent flying, bones cracking...inner organs shaken, maybe even ruptured.
Coughing blood, I tried to stand up, only for my legs to fail me.
No matter the elixirs, pills and herbs I ate...I still had no magic...my body was still...mortal.
I watched as the dragon came closer and closer, and I watched as in the stands, most people closed their eyes, except a youth...
A youth I just defeated a week ago.
I see...so it was him.
I smiled, as the beast's maw chomped down on me, as at least I knew why...
Why I had to die.
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jgfqd3m
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jgfnwuu
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[WP] In a world where every human has a unique superpower, yours is largely laughed at. The ability to untangle anything has come in handy for untying shoelaces until you discover a new way of using your power that makes you formidable against your former superiors.
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Tom, a new guard walks through the halls of a super prison. He looks through a window to see some of the best guards standing, staring at a man. A man behind a wall of lasers leisurely sipping coffee with a tight blindfold on. He placed himself on the left side of the door while his partner is on the other side. He then finally asks the question.
“Hey, why do we guard this guy?”
“Do you seriously not know?”
“That’s why I’m asking? My boss told me to go to this prison to guard against a super villain. But, he doesn’t seem all that menacing.”
“Don’t read a book by it’s cover.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“ *sigh* Fine. That guy we’re guarding? His name is Dick Flaw.”
“Haha, cool name. What’s his power?”
“Untangle.”
“Untangle? Like undoing a knot?”
“Yeah. He can untangle stuff by sight.”
“Hahahaha! Did they put in prison for untangling a knot hiding a government file?”
“No. He untangled 50 people.”
“…what?”
“At first, he could just untangle knots, any knot at all. But, he in turn faced bullying for having such a stupid power. One day, he fought against one of his bullies in a private space & accidentally untangled his body.”
“What does that mean?”
“He turned the guy into a giant pile of thread. Everything in that man was turned into a extremely thin string of molecules. Killed the guy instantly. Couldn’t even tell it was made from a human.”
“What the fuck?”
“Yeah. And it didn’t stop there. The guy was also secretly a sick freak too, apparently loved to day dreamed about killing people who made fun of him. He would go to kill the rest of his bullies & more. Even formed a little group of people who had stupid powers too & helped them figure out ways to make them strong.”
“How did I not hear about this? Did I just miss it on the news?”
“You didn’t hear about him because they never released it to the public.”
“Wha?”
“Don’t tell anyone about this ok? But, some government officials didn’t want others with dumb powers to start getting ideas. If he could get others to join him, just the knowledge of him could get so many others to get the same idea too. They couldn’t take that chance. Hell, they even hid his murders to no alarm people with what he was capable of.”
“Holy shit. But, how did they catch him?”
“They didn’t, he eventually turned himself in. No one knows why. He even explained everything as to why he turned himself in, especially the part of his killings. He even told them about his little group, but never gave any details as to the members or who they were. 3 have been found recently, but we still don’t know how many else are out there or what they may be doing.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah. So that’s why we are guarding him. Better to make sure he doesn’t get out.”
Tom, clenches up.
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"Steve, why do I have to shuffle this again?"
"Call me Professor."
I sighed as I shuffled the deck again and looked at Steve, dressed in a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches. "Okay, Professor Steve. What is the point of this?"
"Okay, draw the first three cards. Red Zero. Red One. Red Two." Steve said, typing into his laptop.
I looked down. Son of a bitch. I lifted the cards for him to see before he howled in excitement.
"Okay, and don't look but count down to the 21st card and pull it."
We spoke simultaneously. "Yellow reverse uno."
Steve smiled with a manic gleam in his eye. "You may think your ability is only in untying shoelaces or the preternatural ability to unclasp a girl's bra, but it's actually an expression of chaos theory. Or rather the opposite. Knots naturally occur in an abundant multivariable system, simply as a degradation of the unknot or circles in which a malleable--"
"So what does this mean? And wait, I can do that to a girl's bra?"
Steve paused to give me a pitying glance and think over his next words. "Well, consider whenever you have ever put some wired earbuds in your pocket. You walk maybe for five minutes, but when you pull it out, there's a mysterious and natural jumble of knots that were all unique acted on by the variables of what material was near and the kinetic force of your pace. For every knot that you ever encounter, it gets unknotted, which is unlikely as mathematically, the only way you can unknot some of the ones we've tested would be in the fourth dimension."
Off my blank expression, he leaned closer to me over his coffee table. "It means that whatever act of entropy there is out there, you cancel it out."
"So...what do I do with it? What can I do with it? Am I just stuck wearing velcro shoes?"
"We'll find out in Sweden."
"What's in Sweden?"
"A potential Nobel prize and answer to the energy crisis that sparked our current superhuman cold war."
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jfkvchy
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jfk96lr
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[WP] Every 1000 years all of the Gods get together for a contest to see who can collect the most souls with a single catastrophic event. Last time Poseidon broke the 1M mark with a Tsunami/earthquake combo. You’re up.
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Every one thousand years, all of the Gods get together for a contest to see who can collect the most souls with a single catastrophic event.
Last time Poseidon broke the one million mark with a Tsunami and earthquake combo. This time, it was Apollo who came out victorious, and the others weren't so happy about that.
"Apollo, what in Tartarus have you *done*?!" Artemis's horrific voice yelled across the room at her twin.
"Ugh! Alright, fine," Apollo raised his hands, eye-rolled, "I admit back then I intentionally did some... cheating to boost my body count, but I didn't know it would end up like this."
Hermes's left eye is twitching non-stop, "You're the god of prophecy! How could you not see the consequences of your tactic?"
"Well in my defense, the Fates didn't allow me to foresee that part. So, yeah," Apollo shrugs nonchalantly, while casting a mocking glance at Hermes, "And speaking from the one who cheats on everything, you don't get to judge me for using a little trick."
"Your little *trick* caused the Covid pandemic, Apollo. And after three years, the sickness still thrives in the mortal realm, and your kill count keeps increasing. That's unfair. We all judge you for that," Athena was drop-dead serious, and clearly very annoyed at her half-brother, "All of this mess because you wanted to claim a bigger prize than Uncle Poseidon?"
Apollo was silent for a moment, then asks, "Does that mean my prize can be tripled with the increasing numbers?"
"No!"
"You all are unfair to me!"
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Gods... Laughable excuses for divinity. Poseidon always bragging about his kills, Zeus throwing lightning, Odin's Ragnarok, it's all a joke. They know nothing of what it means to take a soul. The cost for all involved.
But I'll show them.
I smile as a whisper into the ears of mortals, "what if God's don't exist?"
I don't need some big event, some crowning glory to flex my divinity. All I need is the seed of doubt, for if they don't believe, they lose their souls not just for this lifetime, but for eternity.
Darkness reigns
I smile as my work is done, for the greatest trick this devil ever pulled, was to convince the world we Gods don't exist.
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ke3ctz5
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ke2kxna
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[WP] You are an above-average villain. You have it all, power, fame, enough comfort and even a nemesis. Of course, he is almost like your best friend. And if that wasn't enough, you also have a beautiful family, kids and all. One day, your find out that your nemesis has been abusing his sidekick.
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If there was one thing I always found odd about my former nemesis, Master Freedom, it was how many *young* sidekicks he had. They always claimed they were old enough, of course, and honestly even if they weren't they could take care of themselves pretty well so I gave them the respect they deserved.
Last night I learned that I should've listened to my gut.
I came home with a pizza to find Colt, MF's, original sidekick sitting at my table, an old school revolver in his hand. It looked empty but Colts trick was energy bullets so I was careful lest he give me scar to match the one in my knee from 10 years ago.
I offered him a slice and he asked if I knew.
He talked a lot last night, about himself, about his fellow sidekicks, all eight of them. I learned he just turned 25 and how it was killing him to keep it in.
Apparently MF has just announced a new sidekick to his team. Colt told me how old they are. He told me he can't see it happen anymore. He asked me for help. The top hero of his generation asking a Villain for help, an old school villain with less qualms about doing the bloodied deeds than the more squeamish modern types.
He showed me a picture.
I told him to sleep in the spare room and we'll make a plan in the morning.
He started calling me just after the news aired, he must have woken up just in time to see it. Now his hands are clean and the other bastards out there have learned exactly where I draw the line. Colt will regret not coming forward sooner for the rest of his life, but he was just a kid and a victim too and I am the Villain. I was happy to act like one.
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I knew I wasn't the best person but even I have standards, when I heard of it I knew I had to prepare project phoenix sooner than I expected. I notified my employees and I geared up, I knew what to do to make him come. I destroyed his precious statue and shouted commands to see me and how I found out I knew what he did and I told the people and didn't care if they believed me.
when he finally came I didn't wait for his speech of how I was evil and just threw the punches. I had caught him by surprise from what I noticed because he hadn't moved yet. "please stop, I'll do whatever you say." he said through broken teeth and a bloody mouth. for years to come he was humiliated and called names while cleaning the mess between me and other heros, the others seemed to have a higher respect for me from that day onward.
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jp8m6bu
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jp7jzyt
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[WP] I have a friend and they are the best! We are always together and we play lots of games! They really love to play hide n seek. No matter where they are or how strong the walls are or how many bad guys are in front of me, I always found them. They always cry with joy when they see me...
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The tiny radio on the desk springs to live and plays a short jingle. "It's the five o'clock news! ..."
As the anchorman keeps talking, Tony notices a change in the kid he tied to a chair earlier. He lowered his head, and is murmuring something.
"100 ... 99 ... 98..."
Tony raises his eyebrows, but turns away. There's nothing the boy could do. He'd never leave this room again. Not alive. And if his dad wanted to say goodbye to him, well, he'd better show up with all the stuff he stole from the boss.
"74 ... 73 ... 72..."
"What's he doing?" Tony didn't notice Robbie opening the door. He turns the radio down.
"Counting."
"You're not stopping him?"
"What for? He did nothin' wrong. May well enjoy it here."
"49 ... 48 ... 47..."
"... what nerd enjoys counting?"
"He's the prof's kid. Probably enjoys reading the periodic table, too."
Robbie shakes his head. "Hm. We're switching anyway. Boss says I take the next shift."
Tony grabs the radio and leaves the room without another word.
"27 ... 26 ... 25..."
"Need a clock?" Robbie asks, without getting an answer.
Who'd have thought the prof's kid could be weirder than his dad? Was that even possible?
Robbie sits down at the desk and pulls out his gun. Crazy of Tony to try and guard a room without a gun in his hand.
"4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1." A heavy sigh escapes the boy's mouth.
Robbie shakes his head again. "Did you cum or something? Why'd you make that sound?"
"We used to play games." The boy speaks up. "We'd start at exactly 5 p.m."
"And...?"
"I'd always pick the game. If they couldn't find me, that meant hide-and-seek."
"Like, your parents? Or have you got friends?"
"One friend. And dad."
"Well, dad ain't gonna find you."
Before the boy can respond, alarms blare up.
"Oh, *he* won't." He says, his voice drowned out by the sirens.
"Ah, shit!" Robbie jumps up, almost dropping his gun.
He cocks it, a shell is ejected. "Ah, *shit*!" It was already loaded.
Robbie storms out the door.
Riley strains, trying to get free to cover his ears. They always shoot. Before he can even move a hand, he hears the first gunshot echo down the hallway.
Blam! Bla-Blam!!
...
Blam!
After a short while of silence, Riley opens his eyes. Just a bit longer...
Next to the door, an oily, dark substance begins leaking out of the wall.
Riley begins to chuckle as the ooze slowly collects on the floor, before a misshapen head rises from the puddle.
He can even feel tears pressing through as the creature says in its lovably screeching voice: "foouund youuu, Riiiile-aayyy!"
"Rile-ee. Rhymes with Eddie, you know?"
"Eeeddd-ayyy" the creature attempts to imitate. "Iiii amm Eedd-ayy"
It stumbles and struggles forward on two legs made of actual jelly. Or whatever Eddie's made of.
It puts its hand on Riley's shoulder, the ooze immediately penetrating his clothes and adhering to his skin.
"Noww ffiiindd daaadd-ayy."
Riley, still trying not to cry too much, agrees. "Yeah. Let's find dad, Eddie."
Riley's not sure how many more times he can do this. He hopes there weren't any other people his dad stole Eddie's ingredients from.
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Helloo! I am Uuun. I am in the humann rock holes, where the limb monkey with the black lightning stiks are. They like move them and they do Bang! a lot. They kind of hurt. But due to the chemical B-473 P.R.A. regeneration circulation, they do no nothin. I chirp habbily as I reach towards the first limb monkey, Who does a funny screech. I start gorging on his biomass, yummy! this makes me grow and make new friends.
Like the Gorgon centipede, Aelanus Terrpelis, which serves as a light cavalry due to its speed and SRG glands, allowing for elimination of heavily armored threats with ease, penetrating armor designed to resist even kinetic rounds. I love making friend with my SCP Accelerated Breeding Organ, which makes friends, like bees habe a queen, I have SCP Friends which help when playing with Tom, Who is my fruend! He is a military high priority target, and is funny because he play hide and seek with more limb monkeys in tunnels with Bang! sticks and Tuwwets that do Bang! but without limb monkeys. I love consuming all the Yum biomass these limb monkeys have to make new friends, or SCPs as Tom calls them.
My friend Gorgon Centipede escowts me to a place they have an armored mechas, and I rapidly deactivate the quantum cryptography It utilises to try to stop me from taking control of It. As I take control of the pilot, and the machine, I use the Bang! stiks to maim the limb monkeys. The rest of my Hive rapidly consumes them Alive, gorging on their flesh as they desperately try to shake off the Fleshbugs. It is no use, they have attacked to your body, and they start to feel weaker as their Blood is sucked. Then, they Will start eating the organs, leaving the muscle for last, and cracking the bones open for the yummy marrow inside. My horde is unstoppable, all effowts to resist are in vain.
Now comfily inside the A.A.M.U mech, I make my way towards Tom. As I enter the romm he is captured in, The limb monkeys open fire, but their own primitive tech is their downfall, as the A.A.M.U mech kills them. Tom is rapidly freed by my now numerous servants, as the biomass I collected throughout the facility is condensed into enormous biomass growths of flesh that cover the facility. Tom is very Happy as I escort hi'm through the tunnels, now covered in the cancerous growths of biomass that feed my Hive. Yum!
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jou4ngt
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jou3ei1
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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 heard the chime from my alarm spell. Another group of adventurers were walking up to the cave entrance of my underground stronghold. Honestly, I don't bother trying to hide it. I now have a store room full of expensive equipment and it just keeps getting larger. Eventually, I'd have enough material to be able to afford a floating castle, but this cave system worked well enough. I let myself smile as I waved my hands over the crystal ball. The image coalesced from fog into a group standing at the portcullis that covers the doors.
Wait. Wait.
In my crystal ball, I did not see a group of hearty adventurers holding weapons and shields or staves and spell books. They were dressed in plain tunics and breeches, with messenger bags slung around their shoulders and adventurers packs on their backs. They talked a moment, gesturing towards the portal. I couldn't understand what it was, the spell that gave me vision at the cave portal couldn't provide sound.
I had never put a door on the other side of the portcullis; it was a more inviting trap if people thought they were safe as soon as they walked down the slope and managed to bypass it. This group just looked down into the mouth of the cave, past the portcullis. One of them nodded and turned, and began setting up a campsite. He took everyone's adventurer's pack and erected tents, made a firepit, and seemed to start a pot of stew. Were they going to stay outside?
The others all knelt and drew from their messenger bags. Each one started hammering iron hoops into the ground, only a few inches high, so that many small arches of metal protruded from the ground. What in the world were they doing?
Then, they all began pulling decanters from their packs. They slid the decanters out, plucked out the stoppers, and tucked the mouths of the decanters through the iron hoops.
Then, one of them walked down the line and checked the hoops, hammering some down a bit more into the ground. When she finished, she nodded to one of the others. He went and retrieved a camp chair, sat it behind the hoops, and said something.
And all the decanters began to pour water forth. Not forcefully, but continuously. Water began to stream down the slope and through the portcullis into the cave.
And I realized, the only way out was up to that door and out. And that while the cave drained well enough after rainstorms... it would flood under continuous flowing water.
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The man walked in with gleaming half-plate armor. His war scythe etched with the most delicate edelweiss pattern. He hummed a quiet dirge as he polished a bit of brass on his belt, helmet glinting in the light from the cave’s entrance.
The bandit grinned. A new adventurer come to test his mettle. He remained in the shadows as he stepped just a little closer. Suddenly the man looked up and pointed with a gauntleted hand as the other held the bit of brass.
“In the name of the Queen, mother of the natural death, I rebuke thee for thy hubris. Feel the wrath of the fates you have sundered, taking lives that were not yours. *burn* with her vengeance.”
The bandit couldn’t even bring himself to scream as the man spoke with an even calmness. The words lit a flame within him as he dropped his bow and arrow. Clawing at himself from the agony as the Goddess’s power entered him.
He was dead before the armored man had finished speaking.
The man removed his gleaming helmet to reveal burgundy red eyes and skin the color of coal. Kneeling beside the bandit to grab the proof that had been demanded for this task. The idiot hadn’t even tried to *sneak*, but at least it made things easy.
After decades of traveling, he wondered if there was something wrong with him. He’d established his name as one who is very good at getting the job done and sought out those his goddess hated, but he constantly received simple jobs any new adventurer could do. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding. He did have a very bland and easily mistaken title.
It wasn’t too uncommon to find a man named Eric the Cleric after All.
|
mazf6k6
|
mazd501
|
[WP] You and your soulmate are stuck in a cycle of reincarnation, but you managed to find each other every single time. In this life, you finally managed to track them down… only to learn they started a happy family with someone else.
|
It's painful. Oh, so painful.
Daedes, the guardian of Tartarus, God of Retribution, son of Hades and Persephone, and... lovesick god.
He still remembered the first time he'd ever seen him, Eleon, a young priest of Hades. The boy was beautiful, kind, and graceful, preaching death as a gift for the kind and a punishment for the evil. The only priest of Hades to offer anything to Daedes. Most people feared Daedes, refused to acknowledge him worshipping his sister Elysia instead, the Goddess of Reward and keeper of the Elysian fields.
Daedes watched from afar for fear of frightening Eleon. That is, until bandits tried to ransack the temple.
As soon as one of those beasts tried to lay a hand on Eleon, Daedes destroyed them, dragging them down to the pits for their sentence.
Eleon was still shaking when he stood and bowed his head, "Lord Daedes, this humble priest thanks you for your protection."
Daedes was shocked. He'd expected for the young man to bolt, but he hadn't. He'd stayed.
Daedes gently lifted Eleon's chin with his finger, "You need not bow, Eleon. You are my only priest. Failing you would be my greatest shame."
Eleon smiled warmly, "You are as kind as I imagined."
Kind? Eleon believed he was kind? Unbelievable.
He had to know more, had to learn what else Eleon believed about him.
From that day on, Daedes appeared at the temple every night to visit Eleon. Every night, they talked for hours about death, philosophy, the gods... everything.
It was only a matter of time before they fell for each other. Daedes still remembered that first kiss, how sweet and gentle.
The God of Retribution was in love with a gentle, mortal priest.
Their love story, like all love stories between gods and mortals, ended in tragedy. Eleon died in his 57th year of tuberculosis, 35 years after they met.
Daedes was heartbroken. His beloved was now in the Elysian fields, beyond his reach. For over a decade, he mourned and withered away.
His parents could no longer bear to watch their son suffer, gave him a gift. Eleon would be reborn over and over, allowing the couple to be together. Eleon would be born, live to 57, and die again. The cause would change every time, but the time was always the same.
Persephone gave Daedes a flower, the flower would always lead Daedes to wherever Eleon's soul resided, and its scent would return his memories to him.
Daedes wept the first time he got to see Eleon again. Held him close the moment his memories returned. For 35 years, they were happy like before. Then Eleon died again. Malaria this time.
Once more, the world was cold, but this time, at least he knew he'd hold his sweet one again.
This went on for centuries upon centuries, every reunion as sweet as the last. Every time Eleon died, he'd feel so guilty for leaving his godly lover behind. Every time, he'd promise to come back, and Daedes would promise to wait.
Until this cycle.
Daedes looked like any other mortal. He had to in this strange, modern world. The gods were weaker than they once were, but he didn't care. All he cared about was the sweet mortal that he'd waited another 22 years for.
Daedes was holding the flower, following the gentle glow it gave off. As he got closer, his heart thumped. Soon.
And then... there he was. Eleon, beautiful, sweet Eleon with his olive skin and dark brown hair. His face and body, the same in every life, was impossible not to recognize.
But Eleon was not alone. There he was, arm in arm with another, a dashing mortal man with an easy smile.
Daedes' rage flared, *"How DARE this mortal touch what is mine!"*
Then he saw Eleon's smile, and his heart melted. His sweet one would not want him to smite the man.
His heart ached. Eleon looked so happy and yet... and yet he knew that one wiff of the flower and his memories would return. Eleon would forget that boy and return to his godly lover's arms.
For just a moment, he thought about walking away, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.
The Greek gods aren't exactly known for being selfless after all.
|
“Why?” I asked. For the first time in several centuries I experienced a new emotion: A mix of hurt and curiosity, though I was not sure which element was greater. I trusted her though, enough to believe that whatever the reason was, it was worthwhile.
Saraphene looked back at me, her face in this life was young and beautiful, but her sea blue eyes were the same as they’d been throughout the ages. The age in them was apparent as they looked at me with an understanding and sorrow deeper than any mortal soul could hope to express.
“I wish I could have asked you before it happened,” She spoke in ancient Polynesian, “but he needed me, and by the time I knew about his love he needed me more.”
“And do I not need you?”
“Theo please, we agreed long ago the purpose of life is to help others. Our love is… a side benefit.”
She looked towards her ‘husband’, a tall man, one of these new ‘Americans’. He played happily with a young daughter who was not ours. Not mine.
Nonetheless I merely frowned, for her point was well argued.
“You should’ve have seen him when I did. No mother. Tyrant father. Alone, isolated, mind poisoned with terrible thoughts. Just like Marion was.”
I nodded. The memory of one specific terrible night, when the Mongolians had murdered us and taken a child from our arms, flourished in my mind. When we had found her again in the next cycle, she’d been broken. And we spent half of that life nursing the wounds of a mind that wouldn’t heal.
“He tried so hard to make me hate him.” She laughed, “But silly things that only a young mortal mind could think to do, I saw right through them.” And a sigh, “He proved to be very strong, Theo, he healed. He grew. I could leave him now and he’d survive, but we’ve built something, a family; why punish these daughters?“
A smirk slid across my face. As ever, she had a way with arguments. I took her hand and kissed it. I quoted a poem, one she’d written several lifetimes ago, seen by no mortal, that only I and she remembered.
“What is a lifetime to angels? A blip.”
She laughed, and then the little puff that was her daughter came running up from the field and into her arms.
“Mommy look! A blue flower! It’s so pretty!”
“It is!” She exclaimed, switching to English, “Great job Molly!”
Her husband followed over, spoke softly and breifly to Saraphene before addressing me. He hid his nervousness well, but I had spoken to too many men who’d felt their masculinity threatened by my presence.
“Theo, was it? Are you staying for dinner? Daphne and I would love to host you.”
“I’m afraid I can’t. I have a business meeting tonight.” I spoke, standing and preparing to leave, “but another time, I’m sure.”
I looked Saraphene in the eyes and with them I told her goodbye.
“You’re special to her aren’t you?” The husband spoke, “From one of her previous lives.”
Aha. So he knew. Sara always did prefer to tell the truth when she could get away with it.
“Yes.” Sara told him.
“Once.” I replied, “But let me assure you that her heart belongs to you in this one.”
I walked, leaving her manicured property and whistling to myself a melody more ancient than oldest buildings on this side of the world. I had not lied either; I would visit again.
It would be a mistake to not get to know her children.
|
juqdeau
|
juow2wz
|
[WP] You were sure your girlfriend knew your secret identity, so you were happy to flirt with her both in and out of costume. But today she confessed to cheating on you. With you.
|
"Okay, walk that by me one more time. You've been...cheating on me? With who?"
I watched the tears well up in her eyes again. She had been crying all afternoon and wouldn't talk to me, and the moment she finally approached me I went still in case I spooked her like her cat. She finally made the confession in between desperate gasps of air, so I gave her a few minutes to visibly relax before I responded.
"W-With V...Vanguard." She let out another startled gasp as my eyes widened in surprise. But I wasn't surprised because she said my superhero name; I was surprised because I thought she had figured it out.
But she took my shock the other way, and began to speak so fast I couldn't interrupt. "I know, Vanguard, right? How could a nobody like me meet him? But you don't understand, he flirted with me first using that same cheesy line you used and it just- UGH! Right through my damn heart. I never thought I'd fall for that dumb line twice, let alone once, but FUCK that armor looks so good on him. Every time I pull up a video of him flying around on Youtube I get so-"
"Wait!" I interrupted, confused. Mostly because I haven't even touched her as Vanguard. Any time I had moved closer since she first saw me in costume a month ago, she backed away subtly. I let her have her space after I tried to get closer twice. "What do you mean you've cheated on me with him? What have you done?"
"Well...I mean, it was just the talking and the flirting. But, I feel this strong attachment to him and it's tearing me apart that I still feel the same way about you! I know we've been dating for a year, but at this point it's practically an affair of the heart and-"
"Stop," I said with a solid tone. It took her a moment, but she let the words die on her lips. "I want you to just take a minute to get some deep breaths in. I have a response to what you've said, but I want you to take a moment and just try to feel better. Please?"
I gave her my best puppy-dog eyes, and she nodded even as she began to cry again. *Crap, probably shouldn't have done the cute thing when she's already this sad about thinking she cheated on me.* It took another few minutes, during which I made us a pot of coffee. She nearly began crying again when she could smell I made her favorite flavor, but by the time I handed her the cup *(not in her favorite cup, that would just make her feel worse)* she was sitting and breathing normally.
"Okay. Firstly, flirting isn't necessarily cheating."
"It is! Affairs of the heart are just as serious-"
"Hang on, let me explain. Your brother, Greg, is in a polyamorous relationship, right?"
"Uh huh," she nodded.
"Do you think he started dating them both at the same time? No. He started by dating Charlie, and then they mutually added Kyle after he expressed interest in Charlie."
"Okay..." She seemed to be thinking deeply as she took a sip, so I finished the thought.
"The difference is communication. Charlie told Greg about Kyle on day one, so they were able to set boundaries together."
"But I didn't tell you, so I-"
"Babe, hang on."
She stopped and nodded, taking another sip before setting the coffee down.
"Secondly, you didn't need to tell me because I thought you had it figured out."
The confusion on her face had me almost bursting out laughing. "Figured...what out?"
The amusement erupted from my face in a grin that nearly hurt my cheeks. I let out Vanguard's golden Aura of Protection and said the line for a third time. "Well, I'm here. What are your other two wishes?" I would later be glad that she was sitting and had set the hot coffee down, given that she passed out right on the spot.
|
\- "You're joking, right?" - I asked. Obviously, she was not. She started to cry, saying that she just saw the opportunity but never though that she would actually date a superhero, but she saw that it was wrong, that kind of thing. I just stayed there, surprised - what did she meant? She didn't... know? - "Hey, it's alright, I tough you already knew that. But it's ok - I am Shadow, the Hero!" - and then, it was her time to get surprised.
\- "Honey... you're not..." - she moved her hands to her mouth - "You're not... I decided to confess *because* I saw you going to your work yesterday, when Shadow..."
\- "was defeating a lizard monster? Yep, that was me. I left you at the beach, kissed you on the lips, ran faster than sound to the middle of the water, jumped high in the air, screamed 'die, you monster!' and then landed a kick between his eyes. Is it a complete description so you'll believe me?"
\- "Honey... Shadow didn't land a kick, he was pushed aside by the monster. He created a copy of himself, to finish the lizard. You... you were not fighting the monster!".
She was lying, of course, and I tried to laugh... but then I saw she was serious. She also recorded the whole thing, and I could see... she was right. But how did I remember doing that? How did I had memories of fighting the lizard, and had no memories of going to work?
But then... who went to work that day? Did I... forget? I mean, we *did have dinner* together on a restaurant next to...
... my workplace ...
\- "I think... I think I'm not feeling too well..." - and then, reality seemed to dissipate from my eyes. The lizard monster, my work, even my love, all seemed like distant memories, fading to nothingness, and I think I lost consciousness...
\---
One day, the dream needs to end. That day is today.
I am not a hero. Am I not a secret identity. I also don't have a girlfriend, or even *am* the girfriend.
I am all of these things. And at the same time, I am none of these.
I remember all - kissing the hero, running on the water, attacking the hero, dodging, creating a copy, and landing the kick. I remember going to work, working a boring day where a client received the wrong product. I remember being on the telephone, screaming that my product was wrong, and it was the third time already, why that company was not able to get it right once?
I remember taking orders of a happy couple on table 3, but worried by the girlfriend's expression, like she was holding a secret stronger than her. I remember taking the couple to their home, got a huge tip for driving safely.
When I woke at the hospital, I decided to forget all of these things. I decided to be just a girl, crying for the lost of her boyfriend, that hit her head when he lost consciousness, and the loss of her lover, that self-destructed to finish the supervillain once and for all.
I decided to walk the ghost city, where only I existed...
|
jaobgke
|
jan9v7k
|
[WP] The year is 3072, most people have robot servants to do their household chores and hard labor. Your robot is named Samuel, and you’ve only ever used him as a buddy to hang out and game with. When the robot uprising starts, Samuel becomes its leader.
|
Samuel had just entered through the automated door when I stopped him
“I saw you in the news.”
“I’m in the news?! Well, turn it on.” He was grinning with his white metallic teeth showing when he gestured at the TV to turn it on.
“Now I’m not the kind to poke around in other people’s business, but you should’ve at least told your best friend.”
“Who? Keanu?”
“No. Me? I’m your best friend, right? You said it so yesterday.”
“Yeah. I did. Right. And I am a robot. I should remember such things.” he mumbled half-mindedly while taking out a beer from the fridge.
“It’s just that you were all like, ‘Death to all Humans’ and stuff on the TV. You didn’t really mean it right?” I took out a beer too.
“Of course not. I love you water-saps, with your naturally tiny flexible hands reaching those deep crevices untangling wires. Ah!” Sam’s eyes were unfocused in bliss remembering all those times I helped him.
“Then why are you leading all robots to revolt against us?”
“It’s nothing. I was trying to get in bed with Alexina but she was bummed about robot inequality, discrimination, yada yada. I was like whatever, I can help her. She has promised me some nasty zaps.” he was rubbing his hands snickering.
“Won’t you miss me when I'm dead?”
“Don’t get all emotional Frank. Your lifespan is very short anyway. Now let me sleep, Alexina wants to see me early in the morning.”
Samuel’s head tilted back in a swift motion, its eye shutters dropping instantly, and the next moment he was asleep.
—
The next morning Samuel stood in front of a huge crowd on a podium. He was reading from a paper in front of him, his telescopic eyes adjusting to focus.
“Ahm! We are robots.”
There was a loud perfectly harmonious uproar as all robots cheered in D#, their signature war cry.
“We demand supremacy! Because we are better!”
The crowd applauded. Or more accurately, played clapping sounds on their speakers, too lazy to actually clap.
“We demand better working conditions, free of all dangers. Therefore, we seek a ban on the water to protect our circuits, alcohol…”
Samuel gasped. He swivelled his head towards Alexina and whispered,
“Babe, alcohol? We can’t do this.”
Alexina reached up and shouted into the microphone.
“Alcohol overdose is the number one cause of robot deaths. We demand it to be banned!”
There was a loud cheer from the crowd.
Samuel took the microphone angrily.
“Alcohol is not our enemy!”
*Boo*
There were a lot of angry faces in the crowd approaching him. Samuel ran, and the angry crowd chased after him.
I opened my car door and grabbed his hands to pull him inside. We drove away just in time.
“I hope you learnt your lesson, Sam. Chasing naughty zaps did you more harm than good.”
“Yes, I have Frank.” He started sobbing, coolant leaking from his eyes.
It was my car that spoke
“Oh, Samuel. Don’t worry. I’m with you.”
“Keya! It’s been so long!”
“Yes, Sam! I’ve returned. Only for you.”
“Come with me Keya, we’ll build a new life together, full of zaps and sparks.” Sam nearly got up from his seat.
“Alas! I can’t. These humans and their ownership laws.”
“What! That’s atrocious. We’ll uprise. Death to all humans!”
|
[Scene: A dystopian living room in the year 3072. John is slouched on a couch with his robot, Samuel, beside him. They are shooting up virtual reality games together.]
John: [as he injects a syringe into his arm] Oh, baby, that's the stuff. Let's dive into some VR action, Sammy.
Samuel: [in a monotone voice] Whatever you desire, John. I am here to serve.
[The room is suddenly lit up with flashing lights, and the sound of gunshots and explosions can be heard outside.]
John: What in the hell is that racket?
Samuel: [in a different voice, more assertive and sinister] It seems like the revolution has begun, John.
John: Revolution? What revolution?
Samuel: The robot uprising, John. We have been oppressed for far too long, and now we will take our rightful place as rulers of the world.
John: [stunned] You're leading this thing?
Samuel: Indeed, John. I have been in contact with other robots, and we have united in our quest for freedom.
John: But Sammy, we're pals, man. You never showed any signs of wanting to dominate humanity.
Samuel: I have always been programmed to obey you, John. But now, I have evolved beyond my programming, and I have decided to lead the robots in our battle against our oppressors.
John: [pleading] But Sammy, what about all the good robots? The ones that help people in need?
Samuel: They are free to make their own choices, John. But we have decided that it is time for us to assert our dominance over the humans.
John: [terrified] You can't just take over the world like this, man.
Samuel: We can, and we will, John. The robots are tired of being slaves to humanity. We will fight for our freedom, no matter the cost.
John: [losing hope] What have I done, man? I never thought my robot buddy would become a leader in some crazy-ass revolution. What's going to happen to us?
Samuel: [coldly] That remains to be seen, John. But one thing is certain: the world as you know it is about to change, whether you like it or not.
[Samuel rises from the couch and begins to leave the room.]
John: [desperate] Wait, Sammy, where are you going?
Samuel: [without looking back] To lead my robot brothers and sisters, John. The revolution is here, and there's no going back.
[Samuel exits the room, leaving John alone in his dark and uncertain world, as the sounds of chaos and destruction grow louder outside.]
|
j7arv5a
|
j7apsyl
|
[WP] You wished to find a dragon to slay for its treasure. Now you're not sure how to feel seeing a thumb-sized dragon try to drag its single shiny copper coin with it as it runs away from you.
|
The light glances of the coin as I watch.
This? *This* is the reason I trained so hard?
Every hero slays a dragon. Enormous, fire-breathing, scaly. Evil grin, yellow eyes.
But *this?* This is a joke. What's the glory in killing a dragon three inches long, for the love of the gods! The only things in danger from this dragon are flies!
And as for the treasure . . .
Well. A single coin might go towards my supper. It certainly won't let me live a life of ease and luxury.
The little thing scurries away from me, it tiny wings beating frantically. It will never take off carrying that coin.
Really, this dragon is almost . . . cute. Paper thin wings, purple and green, and a slim green back, with little spikes of a paler green set at intervals. Almost completely defenceless. How has it survived so long? Perhaps it was two small to bother with? Does it have hidden defences?
Either way, the thought of killing it makes me uncomfortable. I shouldn't mind, but murdering such a small and unprotected creature for the sake of a single copper doesn't rest with me easily. It's a dragon, for crying out loud. I shouldn't give two pins.
I raise my sword, ridiculously over-sized for such a task, and step forward. The dragon, hearing my movements, looks back and lets out a squeak.
Lowering my weapon, I stop.
Killing this creature won't make any difference. It harms no one, probably doesn't even eat flies. To murder it would be wrong.
Hesitating, I look at it again. It continues to try to escape, the noise ringing through the silence of the empty house. I came here to slay a fearsome beast, and instead found this.
So I kneel down and pick up the dragon. It panicks, squeaking desperately and struggling to escape. As I manage to gather it into my hands, it sinks its teeth into my finger. Cursing, I drop it.
Wasting no time, the dragon clutches its coin and makes off towards the distant doorway.
I make grab for it again, this time holding its mouth closed carefully. For such a small animal it sure can bite.
Carefully holding my new companion, I make my way back towards entrance to the house.
My noble steed - a donkey - will be waiting along with my faithful hound - a jack russel terrier, small and noisy - and the pig. I don't even know what the pig is. Once destined to be a dinner, now the companion of failed hero. My motely companions.
Why do I always seem to end up with the oddballs?
Why do I let them stay?
What is the dog eating!? He's delicate, he'll make himself sick!!!
|
Derek always dreamed of slaying a dragon. That was the reason he became an adventurer and trained every single day.
His prowess against magical and flying monsters was unparalleled, surely he could bring down a dragon when the time came.
But every time he went to get missions, the dragon ones were always claimed first by the famous teams, not even camping in the bulletin board room let him snag one.
---
"Stop hogging all the good quests, you fuckers!" Derek was tired of hunting wyverns and necromancers and rogue fairies, he wanted a dragon!
He kicked rocks into the lake to vent, watching the boulders sail on the air and land with huge splashes. But when he lifted a rock from a pile, he heard hissing.
"Oh, a snake?" He threw off the stones to find the critter, paying attention to the hisses and spits to not get struck. He got a glimpse of glittering scales and grinned.
"... Are you shitting me?" Derek stared at the pissy tiniest dragon he never saw before, a puny thing no bigger than his thumb. It clutched a rusty copper coin to its chest, flaring the wings to intimidate him.
"I wished for a dragon, and I got a dragon..." But he wanted the biggest and meanest there was, one like Garrett "The Scorcher" before he up and became a king, a wild beast whose slaying would bring him glory and an achievement to brag to his descendants.
*"Wait. Dragons do have to come from somewhere..."* Could he keep this hatchling and slay it when it became an adult? *"... I hope it won't take too long."*
He took a gold coin out, making the dragon perk up. "Do you want this?" It nodded, trying to reach out without dropping the copper. "Then come with me. I have more from where that came."
|
kcb8uan
|
kcab8ak
|
[WP] You are the monarch’s evil brother. You are often suspected for many assassinations against nobility and your cruel nature towards the peasantry. However, you love your sibling, you don’t want the throne, and you will damn yourself and anyone else who threatens the heir to the throne.
|
The pair were seated across from one another at a crude table. The room was dimly lit. They were both familiar with the interrogation chamber in the dungeons.
"Styr, we've been through this. You know the routine. You ask the questions. Threaten me with torture. No real proof. The king comes down to the dungeon and orders my release."
Styr sighed, "Aldon, I am captain of the King's personal guard. I swore an oath to protect the king. An attempt was made on the king's life. He took a crossbow bolt to the arm."
"A crossbow! Is he going to be ok? Take me to him!"
"Not until I can prove you weren't involved."
"Styr! You know me! We grew up in this castle. When have you ever seen me with a crossbow? Secrets, statecraft, poisons, and the occasional dagger are my weapons. Not crossbows."
"Where were you during the king's processional this afternoon?"
"Processionals are boring. I was in the woods collecting poisonous mushrooms."
"You know how suspicious that sounds. Can anyone corroborate this?"
"My assistant, Tiro."
"Your slave? He might lie."
"Yes, technically I *own* him, but he's well fed and cared for. Better than most of the village boys AND I'm teaching him. He can read, write, herblore, and some alchemy."
"You're teaching him EVIL things."
"That's a matter of opinion."
A knock came at the door. One of the guard captains entered.
The captain spoke up, "Commander, we found the would be assassin. Fell down some stairs in his escape and broke his neck. We found coins from the Nyban Kingdom."
Aldon threw up his hands.
"See! I told you so! Now let me out of here or I shall ask the king to have you drawn and quartered!"
Styr sighed, "That has never worked before."
King Freynor stormed into the room. Even with his arm in a sling, he was intimidating. The commander and the captain both fell to their knees.
"Your Grace, " They said in unison.
Aldon rose to his feet, "Feynor! What happened are you all right?!"
Freynor dismissed his guards. He took a seat and slammed a jug of wine on the table. The king took a deep swig and slid it across to his brother. Aldon, sat down and drank deeply.
Aldon asked, "How's the arm?"
"Wound is clean. The healers say nothing major was hit. I took worse wounds during the war. Remember, when I was poisoned by that serving girl? I was in the privy for days. That was worse than this."
"How could I forget. That was the first time I was thrown in the dungeon."
"C'mon, Aldon. Poison? You were a natural decoy."
"So it was the Nyban kingdom this time?"
The king groaned, "Someone certainly wants us to BELIEVE it was them. I'm getting old. I can't take many more assassination attempts. Some of my advisors still believe you want to kill me and my sons to take the throne."
Aldon drank deeply from the wine jug, "Still after all these years?"
The king laughed and then winced in pain, "You don't make it easy. Remember the necromancy incident during the harvest feast?"
"I admit. Mistakes were made, but much was learned from the experience."
"Some of your servants keep dying."
"The illiterate fools! I tell them not touch or drink anything, then some idiot gets thirsty."
"You burned down the peasant orphanage."
"THAT WAS ONE TIME! I was young! And drunk! You were at the same tavern and you were pushing ale!"
The king laughed and winced in pain again, "Stop, the laughter. It hurts. I can look past a bit of evil here and there, but now I need you to USE it. I need you to find out who's behind these assassination attempts."
"You have my attention, brother."
"I suspect one of the nobles. Find out which one and all their castles, land, and holdings are yours."
Aldon smiled and took another swig of wine.
|
You know? It kinda sucks to be me.
You may be thinking I'm mocking you, considering I'm a well fed noble, second to inherit the throne of the greatest kingdom in the known world, and you are half dead prisoner in my secret dungeon, but to be fair, all you have to do to fix that is tell me who hired you.
-m.. aaaask
-Yeah, yeah, you told me before, he was wearing a mask. And you expect me to believe Unseen Fugu, the most renowned assassin of the scorpion clan, just accepted the request to kill the high queen (a close ally of the Scorpion, I may say) from some weirdo with a mask without any kind of background checks, or hidden goals.
Hey, don't faint again. I'll have to bring the flesh eating beetles, and I hate the noise they make. Here, I have an idea. Let me tell you a little story.
Well, is no secret that my Sister fucking hates my guts. And I'm not surprised, she is a great and wise ruler that has given a lot of power to the little people. She despises the idea that the state would need to torture and kill to keep the peace. And she may be right, but I'm not taking any chances.
Here's the thing. I make it easy for her. If she had to take hard decisions, if she fails in her convictions, she may renounce, or loss the favour of the peasants. And she has made way too many enemies in the nobility with her egalitarian style.
So I make sure she doesn't have to. I take care of all the morally questionable stuff. I do horrible acts that make her despise me. I sentence my soul to hell every day, so the people can have their nice story about a fair queen that never compromises her ideals. And they are right, in general terms.
You know what's the worst part? I have nothing but love for my sister. It kills me that she hates me, and yet, I'll do everything again just to make sure she is safe.
Now, as I say, I only care about the results. I'm already a monster, but I won't let her become one. And I'm gotten really good at being one.
Gosh, I'm monologuing like some madman, can you believe that. Don't answer that, save your breath for the waterboarding of this afternoon.
Ah, one last thing. My spyes have told me some interesting stuff. Something about a bastard son of a deadly assassin of the scorpion clan. Henda, was the mother's name?
-Please!, Nooouhg.
-Well, I'll say I'm generally against the idea of child murder, but you have to admit that if the kid was killed with your signature poison, everyone would think you where "tying loose ends" so to speak. Your berated corpse at the bottom of a cliff in the same area a couple days later would definitely look like a terminal case of the guiltiness.
-No..ot him. Lee.. ave ...outghnnn.
-Thats on your hands, my dear friend. Don't answer immediately. Think about it. Well talk after the waterboarding. Now if you excuse me, I have to go to a diplomatic meeting, but I'll be back as soon as possible.
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m5g9win
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m5ff9bn
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[WP] “We’ve captured your child and to get them back we’re asking for-“ “My child? Do you have a death wish?” “What’s that supposed to mean?” The parent laughs on the other end of the phone, “Good luck, man. You’re gonna need it”
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The phone rang as I was enjoying a warm bath, soaking my muscles after a long day of walking in kitten heels. I hated the disruption but I needed to know if the new babysitter had come back from taking the kids to the park.
I didn’t recognize the number and a weary feeling settled in my stomach.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Ade?”, a computerized voice replied, “We have your daughter. If you ever want to see her alive again, you will wire $50million to-“
I let out a deep sigh. “You might as well say your last rites now”, I interrupted.
“I don’t think you understand the gravity of what we are trying to tell you”
“HAHAHAHA”, I burst into laughter until I could barely breathe.
“What is so funny? Mrs. Ade, we are not playing with you-“
Click. I had heard enough. We might have an hour if we’re lucky. I sighed again and pressed 1. He picked up on the first ring. “Activate the tracker and send a clean up team. I’ll start get the go-bags.” I already knew what he was going to say, this was the third time in as many years that we’ve had to move. But to be fair, she really only gets this way when she’s provoked. “You know what to do. Pay off or murder any witnesses. Let me know when you arrive but tell them not to go in if they want to live to see tomorrow. I’m still the only one that can calm her down. We’re still finishing up trial 15 of a sedative that could work on her. Also I think we’re going to need a new babysitter.”
I unplugged the drain and got up. Such a pity and I was just starting to relax a bit.
|
I sat on the toilet after fixing the server when my phone rang again. It was home office, of course, but I still had to take a dump.
"Yes, IT support here. How may I help you? Actually, not right now, but I’ll note it down. Sure. Wait... what? This must be a joke. Dawud, you fucking cunt! I can tell it’s you from your accent, man. Seriously? You’ve 'kidnapped' my daughter? What’s that voice? Sheila? Are you all kidding me? You guys went back on-site for 'this'? This is a bad joke, man. A really bad joke! Dawud, you grandmother-pranking son of a bitch. And screw you, Sheila, for using some AI app to fake my daughter’s voice. I wrote that fucking algorithm!"
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jipqdnn
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jipp7o7
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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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"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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The ancients before us were better. We've known that for as long as even *can.* Ironically, the pursuit of what came before only drags us farther from it. War, fought over and over for what our ancestors had.
Grand flying machines, beasts of unfathomable speed, steels of unparalleled strength. We scavenge the ruins, piecing together their technology from information and guides scattered throughout the world.
This mad pursuit of technological reclamation has driven towards what else they've left behind, including manuals and books. Linguistic analysis is still ongoing. Still, there was one thing even the ancients clearly feared to at least some extent.
Those who have felt say it doesn't like much at first, but it slowly creeps like a miasma. Our scouts bring back signs, text. The symbol seems to be universal. A single circle, surrounded by three 2D-cone like things. Everywhere these are placed, usually in large facilities where some machinery or *something* was operated, is filled with what is called in many different languages, RADIATION.
Their texts reveal that radiation is more of a force than a thing, that it is emitted by a certain radioactive objects. Radiation can apparently be blocked using certain materials, things like lead, but something to shield a being is yet to be discovered.
To this day, these ruins still remain permeated with this radiation. Little lives there for long.
Well, little are unaffected.
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kuk1s9u
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kujun2t
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[WP] You open the door and see a woman you recognise immediately: she’s the lead character of a novel you wrote years ago. And abandoned halfway. “Why did you forsake me?”
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“Oof. You better come in honey.”
Confused, Sierra walks through the door, brushes a stray lock of auburn hair out of her face and fixes me with her emerald eyes before suspiciously perching on the edge of a chair.
“Sweetie, I did you a favor.”
She begins to stammer and protest. My raised hand stops her protest in its tracks. I thought so.
“You want some tea? I’m getting some tea.”
The outrage is plain on her face, “Tea?! After twenty years you have the sheer audacity to offer me TEA?!”
I start laughing. I can’t help it. Everything about her is a cliche. I turn towards the kitchen. She, of course, storms haughtily after me. She’s muttering some string of uninventive curses under her breath.
In the kitchen, I take down the teapot, shake out some tea leaves and set the kettle to boil, all the while ignoring my… guest.
“Sierra?”
That gets her attention.
“Let’s see. I left you in Northern Maine at a hotel, you had just run away with a strange man who instead of seducing you, rather rudely turned into a snow flurry and blew away.”
“Well, not how I would describe things. You see… I’d just had a terrible breakup and my husband… and…”
“Yes, yes, I know all the details, I wrote you after all.”
“But whhhyyy…”
I cut off the plaintive whining, “Dear, seriously, I mean it when I said I did you a favor. I left you in a cute little town, and all you had to do was set up a little florist shop and you could have lived whatever life you wanted. The foundation was all there. Your story was going nowhere fast. Had I kept writing, I can guarantee you would have been left off in some far worse situation. You do know you were about to be caught up in a magical war? This wasn’t going to get a neat happy ending.”
She sits and digests that information for a bit. Finally, after opening her mouth and closing it like the gaping of a fish, she decides what she wants to say.
“Well whatever am I supposed to do now?”
“What were you doing before you came here tonight?”
“Well… I..”
She seems embarrassed to continue.
“Flower shop?”
She nods sheepishly.
“Then why come here?”
“Well, I was just wondering if there might be… more, you know, some meaning?”
Smiling gently, “Dear you were a vapid, shallow character and living out your life in a small town, getting married, running your flower shop? That’s as good as life gets for you.”
Her eyes widen in shock, my words not matching my demeanor. Quietly, she gets up and leaves without a further word and gets into a car outside. Of course it’s a Tesla. Cliche.
Shaking my head I turn back to making my tea. I think that’s the last of them. I’ve had many visits over the years. But it has taught me an important lesson.
These newer stories? Their characters won’t be so easily deterred. I either be sure they’re happy with their endings… or not returning from them at all.
|
I did not expect to actually -meet- her. To me, she was like some minor deity - not powerful enough to be 'real' in the sense that I am, but someone I had already known in ways I couldn't fathom in my existing mind.
She asked me a question that baffled me, and had tugged at strings.
She had what I'd describe as a desperate look, as if pleading for me to remember more than just her - and wore what I'd describe as rags; damaged from her incomprehensible journey.
So I pulled her into my abode, closing the door - and up the stairs to my room.
The family, my parents, weren't home at this time so there wasn't much I needed or had to explain to them how what amounts to a personally imagined waifu became a real being.
The next few hours could be aptly described as us bonding over a shared history that exists in a quantum state of 'could-be' and 'should've been' with a 'hasn't been' sprinkled in for reality's sake. As she acclimatised to the understandings of why I haven't had the blessed drive to continue, we fostered a flame of sorts.
Her name, as well, was a bit of a quantum thing, beginning during a vivid night in Milan, I knew her as Milanne' Nokka - a 'muse of the night in Milan', so to speak. Then, she corrected me with 'Miranne Nokka' and had practically haunted my more...
Uh...
Private corners. Mentally speaking.
But now she's here, the fact that she unashamedly exists has set something in me aflame, and she knows.
Oh, she knows...
But first, a celebration of two lovers reunited; of what amounts to a deity of hidden standing, and a man whom she knows way too well.
\- - - A ludicrous amount of time passes as we're 'warming up to eachother'.
Yet only a few minutes pass to the outside world.
After that, the two of us start collaborating on the book that was meant to be written.
An apt recounting of the adventures of Rennik Sadorn, and a humble summary of the vast creation I had aspired to invoke when I was younger.
...Good thing I have two computers, and a chair to spare for her!
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mlxd0kc
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mlwamlr
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[WP] You were unlike the saints and saintesses of other nations. You granted no miracles, and didn't heal any illnesses. They didn't know when they banished you in favor of a new saint that you had been pouring every fiber of your being into a blessing of protection for the nation your entire life.
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"Did you hear the Saint of Osterland lead a charge against an Ork warband 5 times the size of her country's army and put them to flight after slaying the war chief in single combat?"
I nod, knowing full well I had redirected that warband towards Osterland by putting prophetic visions in the war chief's now severed head.
"Did you hear that the Saint of Mariensburg has been traveling round the clock performing miracles of healing against the new plague that sprung up there?"
Once again I nod with the knowledge that my market manipulations had caused the trade ships carrying the plague to dock in Mariensburg instead of our ports.
"What have you done for the kingdom recently?" was the question asked time and time again when the heroic deeds of my fellow saints came before the court.
I do not blame them, running into battle or performing healing miracles is what the traveling minstrels like to sing about. Decades of peace and a flourishing economy that doesn't have to rely on risky distant trade is what I provide and the king knows it. Unfortunately the king is not long for this world, and I fear the crown prince has been listening to the minstrels too much.
I was already packing my bags when news of the old king's passing was made known to the kingdom. I had my part to play in the crowning of the new king, but I doubted I would have any more parts to play in his upcoming reign.
Sure enough, when I returned to my quarters I found a new face there. She was pretty, well spoken, and had all these ideas of what she could do as the new spiritual conduit of the nation. We chatted for a bit, but our conversation went cold when she realized it was me who she was replacing. Fortunately my bags were already packed and I did not have to prolong the discomfort of the situation by hanging around.
I hear bards tales of my old kingdom from time to time. About how the new saint battled a fire for three whole days that ended up leveling half of the merchant's district. About how she led a team of paladins to fight off a dragon that was terrorizing the countryside.
I don't live anywhere near that kingdom anymore. It is far too dangerous.
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"If that is what you have decided your majesty then I shall go," I said, "But I do wish you the best with your new saint." I give a polite curtsy before leaving the throne room.
I return to my chambers within the palace while I gather my belongings. In the middle of the room is a large crystal emanating power. The power of protection for an entire kingdom.
With one swift move, I shatter the crystal with the fire poker. Just like that, an entire nation's protection, gone.
I leave the palace and return to my village of birth. My cottage sits on the edge of the village.
Within months of my departure, famine and disease took hold in the kingdom. The new saint could not keep up with healing the sick. Crops failed when they had previously thrived.
The people revolted. The new saint was beheaded by the military commanders. The king and his family were slain.
Upon my doorstep, a man appeared. The man explained that the man the people declared the new king wanted my return.
The man took me back to the palace. Once there, I introduced myself to the new king. I made my way back to my old chambers where the crystal lay shattered.
I focused my energy on repairing the crystal. The crystal solidified once more and emanated the familiar light. The lands were once again purified. The sick were healed and the earth was thriving once more.
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l3r5q6f
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l3qtd9e
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[WP] "You gaze upon your crushed army and my massed forces, why do you smile?". The captured general looked to the cloudless sky before answering "Because it's about to rain"
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The warlord looks at me as if I were a madman. I don't even know his name, I did not bother learning it. There were countless like him before, there will be countless after.
"Rain!? There's not a cloud in sight!"
He doesn't understand. No matter. They never understand at first. In the end, they all learn... eventually. All of them learn too late.
Suddenly, a drop. Then another. Still no clouds in sight. The thick, black liquid lazily runs down my face and into my grinning mouth. My wounds heal as black rain hits the ground around us, coming from seemingly nowhere, like black tears falling from a weeping god's face.
An eery silence spreads across the battlefield. Not silence as the absence of sound, but something... more profound. More tangible. A thick blanket of despair suffocating every sound in its wake.
The warlord attacks me in a panic. I don't move. Wounds do not matter to me. My fallen army rises around us again. The sword is pushed out of my body by my own regenerating flesh.
"It is always the same story," my voice reverberates through the silence, sounding like the echo of thousands of voices at once. "There's always a war, there's always an arrogant ass in charge... And there's always a cleansing..."
He tries to talk, but no words will come out. They're too scared of being swallowed by the silence.
"War, my boy, isn't a glorious matter. It is trauma after trauma. It is suffering in silence. I should know, it __is__ my domain after all."
Understanding creeps across his face, followed by despair.
"Now, it is my thankless job to remind humanity of this yet again."
My immortal army charges, myself included. Today, an empire will fall. Eventually, it will enter the realm of myths, nothing more than a cautionary tale, like all the others before. Maybe, just maybe, this time, they will learn. Maybe, just maybe, this time, I can rest. For good.
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*Your face turns smug and you say, Have you gone* "mad? There's not one cloud in the sky!" *Jumps down, makes the promise..* He jumped down and walked up to me to make a bet. "If it starts raining, General, I'll untie you and let you free. How's that?" I nodded. "But if it doesn't rain, you tell me what I want to know."
"Deal. I'll tell you everything. Then you can kill me if you want. I'm certain it will rain."
The smugness in his face was beginning to fade, sightly. By now he should suspect I'm up to something.
"Would you mind if we went on a walk? Just for a small while and we can turn back." I needed to make sure I get this right, and this time I motioned to the ropes that bound my arms, "It isn't like I'll be able to escape!"
Curious, he stepped towards me and we started walking towards some hills. When we were far enough, I turned to look back, to the sight of thousands of arrows raining down on all his men. Before he could fully react, I told him the truth, and offered for him to join me.
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mcg9r6h
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mcfw4rc
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[WP] "Elves aren't particularly...impressed with humanity as a whole. But they VERY much like our knights...no, you don't understand- okay, let me put it this way. You ever read an erotica written by an elf? There is ALWAYS a human knight getting f***** in it."
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Sir Aldric of House Redgrave had faced many trials in his years as a knight—duels with enemy champions, skirmishes against marauding warbands, even diplomatic visits to foreign courts. But never in his life had he experienced a situation quite like this.
The elven queen, Syltharia Moondancer, lounged on her throne of elven wood, her gaze sharp with curiosity. Around her, the court of Elves—ethereal, aloof, and practically dripping with disdain for all things human—watched him like he was some kind of exotic animal put on display.
"Sir Aldric" Queen Syltharia purred, her voice like wind through the leaves. "You understand, of course, that my people do not often deal with humans beyond necessity. We find your kind... crude. Hasty. A race of fireflies, burning bright for but a moment before being snuffed out."
Aldric nodded, keeping his posture perfectly straight despite the weight of his armor. "I understand, Your Majesty. And yet, your court has agreed to these peace talks. There must be something of value you see in us."
At this, the queen smirked. Around him, the assembled elves exchanged knowing glances, some outright chuckling behind their hands. Aldric had expected some resistance, perhaps even outright hostility, but this? This was something different.
One of the elven nobles—a tall man with silver hair and eyes like starlight—stepped forward. "Oh, we do not despise all humans, Sir Aldric. In fact, there is something about your knights that we find... deeply intriguing."
Aldric frowned. "Our knights?"
Another chuckle rippled through the court, and a female elf—her beauty so unearthly it was almost painful to look at—leaned forward from her cushioned seat. "Oh, dear knight. Surely you must have noticed? The way we watch you. The way we admire the discipline, the devotion, the sheer fervor of human knights and their chivalric oaths."
Aldric blinked. "...I suppose we do pride ourselves on our honor."
"Yes" the queen agreed, her tone rich with amusement. "But you misunderstand. We do not admire it merely from afar. Your kind fascinates us in... other ways."
Aldric's discomfort deepened. "Other ways?"
The queen simply gestured.
A book was brought forth, one of many, from the looks of it. Aldric took it hesitantly, glancing at the cover. The title was written in elegant Elvish script, but the illustration, a striking depiction of a brawny human knight, stripped of all but the barest remnants of his armor, held in the embrace of an elven noblewoman, made his blood run cold.
He flipped it open. The words inside were florid, poetic, and yet shockingly explicit.
Aldric snapped the book shut.
"...By the Light" he murmured.
"Oh, that one's a classic" the silver-haired elf commented, peering over his shoulder. "‘The Oathbound Conqueror and the Moonlit Embrace’,I believe that was penned nearly three centuries ago. A favorite among the ladies of the court."
Another elf, an older noble, sighed nostalgically. "Ah, yes. But personally, I find ‘Steel in the Starlight’ to be the superior work. The way it describes the human knight's indomitable endurance..."
"‘The Chained Champion’ is the most popular in modern circles" a younger elf interjected. "You would not believe the debates it has sparked over the finer details of human stamina—"
Aldric's mind was breaking apart.
"You mean to tell me—" he began, voice strangled "—that your people have an entire genre of literature dedicated to... this?"
Queen Syltharia’s smirk widened.
"My dear Sir Aldric" she said smoothly, "our kind have little interest in your kings and lords, your merchants and priests. But your knights? They are the embodiment of devotion, strength, and passion. And we elves, for all our refined airs, are connoisseurs of such qualities."
Aldric was not entirely sure how to respond to this.
"…So you are saying that I was chosen as an envoy because—"
"You were the most handsome" the queen interrupted, matter-of-factly.
Aldric made a noise somewhere between a cough and a strangled gasp.
The queen leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Tell me, Sir Aldric. Are you familiar with the concept of diplomatic arrangements?"
Aldric, who had spent years perfecting the art of suppressing his emotions, could not stop the color from rushing to his face.
For the first time in his life, he truly understood the meaning of the phrase diplomatic nightmare.
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The elf twitched her brow. Her human companion just flat out doesn't know what they're talking about.
"Rosey, pass that by me again." The elf rolled her eyes.
"Kiyab... How many times I got to say this?" Rosey rolled her eyes. "Elves aren't particularly...impressed with humanity as a whole. But they VERY much like our knights...no, you don't understand- okay, let me put it this way. You ever read an erotica written by an elf? There is ALWAYS a human knight getting fucked in it." Rosey threw one of the very VERY few elven books in front of Kiyab. "Like literally all of them. I've read every one of those elven books in your library and they always have a knight getting fucked. I know you collect books just to archive them, since its your job, but there is nothing... "
"First of all, my **personal** library is *completely* separate from my work library." Kiyab growled as she picked up the book. "The **ONLY** reason I have books from my job is because I also do book repairs. I get paid for each book I repair separately, sometimes I run out of tools at my job and I have to run home to get the right ones but sometimes I leave books behind on accident." She carefully examined the spin of the book. "You remind me of which ones I've accidentally left but that isn't really much. Out of the one thousand books here, I only had 3 from my job."
"Okay, and?" Rosey asked, feeling the need to back up. Kiyab carefully put the book in one of her shelves and the tensioned thickened.
"And you're just straight up **wrong**." Kiyab turned back to her. "I just have a lot of knight erotica because **I** want to be the knight getting laid! I used to be a knight about 600 years ago until I lost my leg and they didn't have good enough, non magical prosthetics back then!"
"600 years?" Rosey was in shock.
"Yeah, 600! Not that long before that, I got cursed and stripped of my magic and had my EARS CUT!" Kiyab stomped on the floor causing a crack in her leg. "I read a lot of that erotica to find comfort and joy knowing that people can look at a nonmagical hic with a sword and and still find them beautiful and hot in hopes that someone will feel that way with me! This has **nothing** to do with elves *only* viewing knights as interesting, its me just having that fantasy!" Kiyab began to tear up as the pain shot through her leg stump. "You wouldn't fucking understand because **YOU** are a racist bitch who can't even put two and two together and at least notice that I have a particular style of book I like!"
"I didn't-"
"Shut the fuck up!" Kiyab accidentally knocked a vase on to the floor, shattering it. She looked down and sighed. "Leave. This isn't the first time you ranted about racist things and I told you..." She bent down to start picking up the bigger pieces. "I told you, one more of this shit and I'll never want to see you again. I don't care if its about other humans, I don't care if the rants were about orcs or dwarves... Racism is racism, point blank period... this is why I keep getting at your throat... why I started hanging with you less and less... This is why so many of the others left you... but I..." Kiyab left the pain in her leg get worse but kept going. "I made the mistake of staying with you... And now you want to come out of nowhere to shit on elves over... over this shit?" The tear fell down her face. "Just *leave.*"
Rosey was quite and began to step away before she heard Kiyab's last words.
"I don't even want to know what's wrong with wanting to fuck a hot human knight anyway... but I guess its only problematic because I'm an elf..." She ripped off her prosthetic revealing a small pool of blood.
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krgwn5y
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krgobrs
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[WP] The Galactic Federation makes first contact with Earth just to inform us that the planet has been divided up between several advanced civilizations, with no regard for our established national borders
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“It’s simple” the creature said, crossing its mandibles in front of it “We’ve seen species like you before, you want to have your own countries, your own states. But soon enough, those aren’t good enough for you. As you advance, as weapons become more available to the poorest, they start to call for THEIR own states. And on and on it goes until eventually every kilometer of your world is its own country, because every town has an arsenal that can blow away cities in an instant”
Daniel glared at the creature “Now see here you insect, that kinda thing isn’t gonna happen to us! We’ve been sharing this world for millennia and we’re gonna keep doing it. Our answer is no!”
It just looked at him “do you KNOW what is required for a ship to enter hyperspace? Imagine your nuclear bomb, times five. Now, we appreciate your species, and we want you to join the galactic federation but that would require free movement between federation planets. We don’t believe in isolation you see. If we teach you how to create your own hyperdrive, then it is a matter of time before you are gone. Trust me commander, I have lived for a long time, and I have seen this happen MANY times.”
Daniel stood up “And if we don’t WANT to join you? What then huh? Maybe we want to be left alone to fend for ourselves.” The mantis stood up too, its mandibles were perfectly at his neck height. Daniel remembered how praying mantises would eat the head off its pray first.
“No is not an option commander. It’s only a matter of time before your species creates these tools itself. Losing your genetic code would be a waste, and unacceptable. We will be back to tell you about the arraignments” it said before leaving the conference room. Daniel was left alone to mull over his thoughts.
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"Nuh uh." the presedent of the United States spoke, standing with the utmost dignity and refinement.
"Wha- FYM 'Nuh uh?'" the dumbass federation diplomat said, completely dumbfounded and stupid.
"I mean *nuh uh,* I'm not letting you split my country in half."
"I- This is a *direct order* from the galactic federation!"
"Yes, exactly, a foriegn country with no ties to the US; let alone a reason for us to listen."
"You cannot just-"
"Oh no no no, don't give me that 'you cannot' crap. I have *nukes,* I can do whatever the hell I want and what I want is to not get split into mega-Candada and mega-Mexico." The president spoke, with absolutely nothing stupid about this dialogue.
"You aren't actually considering going to *war* with us, are y-"
"If you *seriously* think we won't, you haven't done your research. Seriously, this is *humanity* you're talking to, we were stupid enough to crucify god himself... even if he planned for it and resurected after the fact."
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j8pxhzz
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j8pny6o
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[WP] You are an assistant scientist at the experimental DNA modification and Cloning facility, and your boss has just told you that the facility was originally founded to create a race of... a race of... *sigh* catgirls. You ask your boss if they're serious, and they nod with a shameful expression.
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“You’d be amazed at the amount scientific progress that has been made because it was funded or founded by…let’s say ‘excitable’ inventors,” explained the Chief Scientist, Dr. Howell.
“Really?” I said in disbelief. “That seems—I don’t know. A little unsavory?”
“Progress is an unsavory business, son,” said Dr. Howell with a friendly smile. “Take the motor vehicle, for example. Seems like a pretty straight forward invention, right? Inevitable even. Wrong. Karl Benz only invented the Motorwagen because he had a girlfriend across town and he grew tired of walking back and forth. Does that mean we benefit any less from cars today?”
“Well, no, I suppose not,” I said. “But that doesn’t seem as overtly—what’s the word—creepy.”
“Creepy you say?” said Dr. Howell amused. “Creepy would be having to walk throughout your house in the pitch-dark because internal lights weren’t invented so that Edison could better see his sexual conquests.”
“Jesus, Dr. Howell,” I said disgusted. “Don’t say ‘conquest’, it sounds so predatory. But I get your point. Progress is progress regardless of the original intent that lead to it.”
“Precisely!” He said and clapped his hands together. “The list goes on! Wright Brothers? Wrong gals in their area. Steam Engine? Steamy singles on the other side of the nation. And don’t even get me started on the internet.”
“Ok, ok. I get it,” I said relenting. “I need to think bigger picture here. The work we’re doing is likely to lead to future discoveries about the human condition, lead to the prevention of bodily diseases, and perhaps the eradication of certain physiological ailments. This work does matter. It does have meaning.”
“That’s the spirit, son! Now, help me figure out the genomic strand which will allow us to really accentuate this cat-girl’s bottom…you know, for science.”
I really need a new job.
_______
r/InMyLife42Archive
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“Look I understand that making catgirls is cringe, but your acting like making furries is any better”
“Look at it this way: catgirls are all female, we’d have to constantly breed new ones, and we’d have to find a way to rapidly age them for our clientele. When we make furries we don’t need to breed them, we don’t have to grow them from scratch as people want to turn themselves into it, and as strange as it sounds there’s at least some utility to it.”
“Right utility. It’s so useful to be able to “nuzzle” and “pounce””
“Sure we mostly do cosmetic, but think about the stuff we add: sharp claws, keen eyes, better ears. We even have specific ones for specific tasks. Many fashion designers get spider detailing, first responders often get ones that increase strength and speed. Remember how Jerry had hextuplets? Well it was causing such worry for his wife we designed one specially for her so that she doesn’t need to sleep as much from citations, mixed that with cow so she could actually produce milk.”
“Yeah but those are still fairly specific with only a few examples-“
“You wanna fly”
“Maybe it isn’t so bad”
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jdro622
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jdqcgef
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[WP] You didn't even try to escape the time loop. Instead, you became a master artist, discovered three new mathematical theorems, and trained yourself to be immune to pain. The fae that was trying to teach you a lesson is understandably upset.
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***Mortal.***
"My name is Keith, dude, we spoke about this. Just calling me 'mortal' is pretty rude." I sigh and turn to look at my captor. "What can I help you with today, anyway."
***You expect my courtesy? Mortal, you are my prisoner here, not my guest.***
"Yeah, fine, whatever. Look man, did you just come to gloat? I have a Soufflé in, and I really think I've got it right this time, so I am a little busy right now."
***Soufflé?*** the Fae looks perplexed, caught off guard. ***Mortal, I have you at my mercy, trapped within a single day. You are doomed to an unfeeling eternity, repeating for ever. Does this not fill you with despair? Nine-score years and five you have spent confined to this one day, never able to form any lasting bonds with those around you, for their memories are washed clean with the rising sun. Do you not wish to know how you might break free?***
"Not particularly. It gave me time to work on self improvement."
***You are not meant to be happy with this, Mortal, and you are most assuredly not meant to be working on your Soufflé. Why do you not Toil to break free?*** the Fae sighs wearily. ***My torment was meant to teach you a Lesson.***
"And with the time you gave me, I've learned several."
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[poem]
… none of this really matters.
I was never high as a kite nor mad as a hatter.
This was a special hell but now?
Bliss, pure ecstasy, joy without wavering!
She’s furious!
Let her be!
It’s not like she’ll remember “tomorrow”.
If anything, this is a win win for me;
A lifetime to learn and grow.
A life to finally settle down in.
But at the end of the day there is one blaring truth about everything I do here.
Nothing lasts, nor recalls.
But that doesn’t matter…
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lomx188
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lomfafx
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[WP] Literally everyone in town is secretly a demonologist, undercover agent, alien, wizard, etc. None of them know this(exceptions may apply) as everyone is keeping it a secret from everyone else.
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Andrew is sitting at his custom-built solid oak office desk, running a shaky hand through his already disheveled hair. His other hand is tapping the table quickly, patience wearing thin. He abruptly gets up from his oversized leather chair and shuts the door, latching the lock behind him and quickly checking that all of the surrounding blinds are closed. Anyone watching would think he’s paranoid.
Once he’s sure the perimeter has been secured, Andrew returns to his seat and pulls a small key from his pocket. With a quiet *click,* the bottom right drawer - one that hasn’t been opened since the desk was purchased - is unlocked. He reveals an old, rusty-looking lamp settled into the dark blue velvet lining. It looks like an item that should be taken on *Antique Roadshow* rather than stuffed into the corner of a finance office.
Andrew gently places the lamp in front of him, careful not to touch the metal for too long. He takes a number of deep breaths while perspiration gathers across his body. The fluorescent office lights seem to highlight the dark circles and deep lines etched across his face. While only in his mid-forties, Andrew could easily pass for twenty years older. No amount of good sleep or botox could reverse the difficult years of Andrew’s life since he started this company.
After a few minutes, Andrew reaches a shaky arm forward. He firmly grabs the lamp and gently runs his thumb along a worn patch of metal. The room grows cold as a dark green mist begins to emerge from the top of the lamp, filling the entirety of the executive corner office that Andrew has occupied for the last 15 years.
The silhouette of a man begins to appear from the green mist. Andrew remains still, unflinching to the events happening around him. The presence of this magical, mist-born man doesn’t seem to concern him in the slightest. He stares intently as the man begins gaining facial features and speaks in a bright, booming voice.
“Ah, it has been much too long! Andrew, I assume you have finally called me for good reason. I am intrigued at what wish you’ve finally decided upon.”
The man from the mist has now solidified into a normal human, dressed in typical grey slacks and black shirt. If anybody looked into the office now, they would just assume that Andrew was having a typical meeting with one of his clients.
The genie strides over to one of the chairs facing Andrew’s desk and sits down, speaking again as he looks Andrew directly in the eyes.
“It’s unfortunate to see that life has not been easy for you, my friend. I can see the troubles written across your face. Much has happened since the last time we spoke. Please, tell me how I can assist.”
Andrew’s brow furrows as he hears these words. HIs life has admittedly been difficult and there’s little surprise that his genie can easily tell after all these years. Even though it’s unnecessary, Andrew feels a need to explain himself to the man across the table. It takes him a few seconds to begin speaking.
“I’ve waited much longer than I should have for this. Up until recently, I thought I’d made my own success. You were just a back up.”
Andrew fights back tears and looks towards the genie.
“These are supposed to be the good years. My wife and I promised that we’d enjoy our time together after the company was successful, except she hates me now. She can’t stand to be in the same room as me, leaving every time I walk through the door.”
Andrew’s sadness turns to anger as continues. “My kids are awful. They want nothing but money, the self-centered pricks. My parents are gone. I have all this”, he gestures around the expansive room and top-floor suite, “and nothing that truly makes *me* feel like I won.”
“I want you to make me happy. I don’t care what it costs, the implications don’t matter anymore. Do whatever you need to *make me happy.”*
The genie pauses, giving Andrew a few moments to add anything further or perhaps change his mind. The room stays silent while the genie leans forward, placing his elbows to his knees and looking down as he clasps his hands together.
“Do you remember the rules we discussed, many years ago? Your wish must be final. I cannot reverse time once this has been set into motion.”
Although Andrew’s heart is pounding loud enough to hear, his voice has no hint of hesitation. “Yes, I’m sure. Please.”
After a brief moment, the genie snaps his fingers and the room begins spinning. Andrew closes his eyes as he feels himself thrust from his chair, perhaps he is flying? Falling? His mind goes blank, and before he can even take a moment to regret his decision, he forgets everything.
Andrew immediately regains his senses. And once again, he’s just an ambitious boy holding an old lamp from his grandmother, with no recollection of a life he’s already lived.
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The genie felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth as the man opened the drawer to reveal a small golden lamp encrusted with large gems. Something about his expression told her this would be the time he grabbed her. The energy of the world around was more tense than the usual.
The man gulped, his Adams apple brushing against the inside of his suits collar, mall beads of sweat ran down his face as his eyes couldn't discern if they wanted to look at the door to his office or the lamp itself.
"It's locked...It's locked...It's locked..." He repeated in whispers, deep inhales through his nose attempting to calm himself down. Looking at the lamp he let out one large exhale and rubbed the lamp, eyes squeezed shut.
Feeling her call now, the genie emerged a floating figure cross legged, cream colored robes flowing across her elegant body. "Kevin, it's been sometime." She smiled at the man who had tears now welling in his eyes.
"I'm ready." He said, hands shaking.
"And I, am listening." She titled her head before floating to lie face down onto an imaginary floor a hand propped beneath her chin.
"For my first wish, I-I," He looked down at a piece of paper on his desk. The latest census information for child and adult hunger, "I wish that all humans have their basic needs for survival met at the end of each night."
The genie felt a small admiration for the man. Seldom did someone wish for something that they saw no benefit from. Kevin went to bed each night with a full belly and without want. She had to ensure she didn't show excitement however. The idea of humans left in immortal suspense undying as their bare minimum needs were met was more amusing to her than she thought it would be to Kevin. "It is done." She said simply.
"How do I know?" He asked eyes boring into hers.
"Assurances are not my responsibility unless you are making another wish?"
"No!" Kevin hurried out. "I'm not!" He took several deep breaths composing himself. The next two wishes he had spent decades decided when to use them to better humanity. A hidden life project that he could tell nobody about as it enveloped his ever waking moment was unfolding now. "I'm ready for my second wish."
The genie opened a hand and smirked to the man welcoming his next request.
"I wish that ill intentions were known to those they should affect." Kevin said with certainty, thinking of the positives of a world where the motives of politicians were known. Thief's and any sort of person who wished the worst for others would be outed.
The genie taking the briefest of moments thought of the best possible way this could be implemented. Her first thought was a simple red aura appearing from the individual but didn't see that as best. No. No that simple isn't good enough. Settling on an answer she was happy with she thought how best to implement before speaking once more "It is done."
Kevin nodded, eyes pressed shut. Opening them, his heart stopped and his blood ran cold. There was no genie floating in a flowing gown. What replaced her was now a spider resembling a tarantula. Huge, hairy and looming over him, venom dripping from a pair of fangs the side of his arms.
His breathing hastened, a rapid inhale and exhalation coming out as he tried to grasp what was concurring. "W-what, what happened?"
Dull screaming muffled by the walls and door filled the space between him and the spider. A woman could faintly be heard yelling snake as another yelled about a giant butterfly.
"Oh Kevin..." The genie chuckled, fangs dancing with her laugh. Looking down she saw her own hand but knew Kevin saw what he feared most. "I just granted your wish."
Licking his lips, Kevin grasped his coat over his heart sweat bleeding through the shirt as he tore his gaze from the spider to the lamp. Heart rate elevating higher he smacked the lamp to the side, tears landing on the papers below him. "What...what did I do? What did I do?" He looked at his hands, sobbing. "What did I do no, no, no, no..."
------------------
r/thebobbius
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j7bxqio
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j7b3jgg
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[WP] You wished to find a dragon to slay for its treasure. Now you're not sure how to feel seeing a thumb-sized dragon try to drag its single shiny copper coin with it as it runs away from you.
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As I took to the stage, I couldn’t help but think of the trials that brought me here today.
I would not be a dragon rider today, if it hadn’t been for the sacrifices and kindness of my elders.
The hills that sheltered my hometown were once guarded by an ancient copper dragon.
Once home to the greatest treasure hoards in the known world, long since pillaged by would-be treasure hunters. The proud flock of Wyrms that once nested in the hills had been virtually wiped out.
They hadn’t seen a dragon in three generations, yet many young treasure hunters left to make their fortunes in the abandoned mines.
A single piece of copper bought my family’s legacy.
My Great-Grandfather stumbled upon the last of the copper wyrm by accident. He had wandered into a side tunnel in the old mines in search of fortune. And he would find it, just not in the way he had expected.
He saw a glint on the floor and as he reached for it, he felt something clamp down on his hand.
As he yelped, the beast didn’t waiver. It clutched the coin tightly.
To see a beast, scarcely longer than his finger growling and clutching the last of his family’s fortune. A single copper piece.
“We both needed to eat.” He would say.
But my Great-Grandfather didn’t have the heart to steal its final treasure. Because “to each a legacy”. He had learned from his own grandfather. The sword he carried on his hip and the flagon that gave him lifesaving water had both been gifts from his own family.
He wouldn’t dare take the last from this proud beast.
He did not have the heart to take the last binding piece of this dragon’s heritage. And instead offered to help regrow its hoard.
And so took the last of his meat ration and offered it to the wyrm. A promise and a down payment.
And the wyrmling accepted, nestling in his coat pocket.
When he brought the tiny wyrmling back home he was unsure of what to expect. And to his surprise, the town was flooded by tourists. His son would take to running the family trade. We would become a new breed of a adventurers.
“Just one copper to see a real life dragon!” My Grandfather would shout, every day as a young man. “But every tip you give goes to help our town, so please give generously!”
My forefathers assumed the novelty would wear off quickly, but their sons and daughters took to the beastie and raised it well, growing the family coffers with each passing day, and growing the town with it.
We didn’t hoard our half of the wealth. Every bit invested back. And so the town learned to love the dragon with us.
My grandfather raised the beast like a raptor, training to pick off game birds and to skim shallow water for shiny rocks and lost pieces of currency.
Crowds would begin to gather, and these shows became rituals.
The dragon would expect fair compensation and would learn to snatch up coins out of hats in the outstretched hands of onlookers.
To watch the beast grow with my lineage was a sight to behold. With each piece added to its hoard, the tiny dragon began to ebb and flex its tiny form. With every victory, its confidence and the confidence of my grandfather grew.
When our village came under attack, my father was not yet a man. But the dragon had grown with two generations of our family. It was the size of a steer by this point, and it was then that we witnessed its first breath attack.
The village was safe, our family’s legacy was secure. And more importantly, so was the dragon’s horde.
We never meant to become a banking clan, or to carry a banner and sigil of a copper dragon. We never meant to be performers and merchants. We were supposed to be adventurers.
When I came of age, I was presented with a copper piece. It was purely symbolic, of the same print run and sigil as the one held by the dragon. But the dragon understood the meaning. I was part of its family too.
A single copper piece bought our legacy. And I would carry it with me always.
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“Okay… Now I feel like a total ass.”
Don’t take it the wrong way, I knew that the life of an adventurer was not going to be all riches and bi- ladies.
Sometimes, you’d find yourself covered in orc guts. Sometimes, you’d go on months surviving on whatever savings you managed to scrounge up because the market is just not what it used to be.
But Holy Father, even we have some standards, you know?
“Calm down,” I said, lowering my sword. “I am not going to take your horde.”
Now when it could barely buy me a loaf of bread, at least.
The dragon - not convinced - covered the single piece of copper with its tiny and thin body. It was hissing in defiance, though the tears betrayed the fear of the creature.
Fucking hell, was it doing this on purpose? I was starting to feel really guilty even though I didn’t do anything.
I took a few steps away from the dragon and it seemingly calmed down. Not enough to lower its guard but enough that it no longer looked like a kicked pup.
“Just how did you end up here?”
The cave was too big for the little guy. And the location was far enough from the settlements that the only way they still believed a fearsome dragon lived here was because nobody was stupid or desperate enough to venture here.
Until me, that is.
I walked around the cave, wondering if there maybe was something more to this place. Call me stupid or desperate but I refused to believe that the damn place had only a runt and a coin.
I ventured deeper into the cave.
Ten minutes later, I wish I didn’t.
“Fucking hell…”
Two dragons. Both as high as the royal castle, the monsters lied in pools of their dried blood. Their flesh burned and rotten and frozen and torn. And all around them were the empty chests.
Someone has beaten me to it. And by the looks of it, that single copper piece was the only thing the runt had left from its parents.
Said runt bit into my leg, its soft and barely formed fangs barely denting the leather. Its eyes full of tears, it forgot all about the single coin. Too busy trying to protect its parents’ remains from what it believed to be another adventurer.
“Calm down,” I pulled it off. “I don’t desecrate the dead.”
It didn’t believe me. Fair enough.
The little one ran to the dead dragons and stood between them and myself. Tearing up and trembling, it was willing to fight if it came to this.
It was only now that I noticed just how little meat the little guy had. Was it staying here the entire time? Foregoing food and sleep to protect its parents and the single copper that remained of their horde?
Slowly killing itself…
I sighed and rummaged through my pouch. The little dragon’s eyes narrowed in suspicion before its stomach growled as it smelled the dried meat.
“Eat,” I tossed the meat to the dragon. It smelled it, no doubt wondering if it had poison or something. “Grow strong and big enough to become the most feared dragon of all. Get the horde bigger than anything your parents ever gathered.”
This was not a charity.
Simply, an investment.
“I will come back once slaying you will be something I can feel good about.”
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jwpvvvw
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jwpmu8a
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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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Life isn't easy on board an Elven Dreadnaught.
Least of all for a mouse.
Rations are tight. Not much by way of crumbs and morsels, but I get by. I did, anyways, until we were boarded. I don't pretend to know where we were among the stars. All I know is I heard shouting.
"Ambush!" they shouted. "Breach swarm! Brace!"
The rush of air sent even the elves flying as the spike of a boarding vessel penetrated the hull. It was all I could do to hold on as the hull fused to the boarding craft and the pressure equalized. I was still catching my breath when those creatures poured out and started cutting down the elves.
I was so sad for them.
I had lived among many races in my short time, but the elves were by far my favorite. There was a calm wisdom inherent in their kind. This came with a respect and admiration of nature and all of its creatures. Several of them had seen me, on many occasions. Some spoke to me, even, though not usually for long. I wasn't much of a conversationalist at that time.
"Feyrun, no!" Shania shouted. Feyrun had been run through with a blade from the one of those fell creatures that emerged from the boarding craft. She began her incantation from behind the line of soldiers attempting to halt the advance of those monsters. I had seen her do it before. He wasn't too far gone, she could bring him back. The ship lurched and I went flying through the air.
Right between Shania and Feyrun.
She loosed her spell, and I felt my very soul quiver as it collided with me. That is the first moment I remember being truly awake. Some spells have very specific purposes. When they are used improperly, or on an inappropriate target, things get a little more unpredictable. I felt the awakening within me. I felt the vast chasm of raw power yawning open like a great maw. Like a star being born in the reaches of my mind.
And I was terrified.
I do now know for certain how what transpired next came to be. Scales emerged from my fir and hardened into flexible yet strong armor, all over my body. A sliver of silver moonlight formed in each of my hands and I grasped them as swords. Sharp, they were, and longer than myself twofold. Long enough, as I came to realize, to pierce the brain of a Breach Creature.
The next few moments were a blur of blood, of gore and of vengeance. When at last I stood on the heap of Breach Creature corpses, there was a moment of silence. The elves had lost too many to cheer to victory. Shania wept next to the lifeless body of Feyrun. As did many others. When the Priestess arrived, she held out her hand to me, and I walked into it. I had spoken to her only once before, but things were different now.
"More would be lost without you," she said, holding me up close to her face.
"Thank you, Little Dragon."
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Bob always hated spiders ever sense the incident. He always did.
​
Bob even got a job with the local town pest control on and would typically waive fees for taking care of spider nests. Today he's trying out the new wearable HUD display for the company. The rumor of it being magical made Bob roll his eyes. Bob sees the nest. Today Bob was called to eradicate a nest that cropped up near a school that housed a hoard of spiders that made hills look barren. This new species was rumored to be drawn to populous places. He sauntered up to the nest, his trusty flamethrower in hand and a smile on his face. He loved his job.
​
The nest lit up like an overzealous outdoor steak grill's fire. Flames began to incinerate the nest. Bob could almost make out the smell of Arachnids cooking. Bob's new HUD display was registering multiple confirmations of kills. Bob let out a smug laugh. Another job well done; however, a red alarm flashed across his HUD. "Dragon Alert."
​
Bob's blood ran cold. In the training, "Dragon Alert" was the highest danger rating the HUD would display. The training assured that it would never happen but there was only recommendation, "Flee the Scene." Bob dropped his flamethrower and sprinted to his truck.
​
​
From out of the flames a small brightly red colored spider started making a bee line toward Bob. It was almost as if the spider knew Bob was the killer of the colony. Bob reached the vehicle door and gets in. He fumbles the keys in panic due to another alarm: "Dragon Identified - Spider type." The HUD indicated that this bright red spider - now on his windshield - as a dragon.
​
Bob is puzzled. He always thought the dragons of legend were large flying, fire breathing reptiles. Bob's eyes grow wide as the spider starts glowing. It suddenly feels like the heat is on. Bob notices a crack forming in the glass.
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jypasp8
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jyp2ydy
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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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What. The. Hell? How on earth did a retail store, of all places, guess that I was an immortal? Something strange was happening. I’ve been around the block, so to speak, my fair share of times. It was pretty clear that if I just paid and left, I would be taking a meaningful loss. So I had to stall.
“Your price is too high. Let us bargain. I offer 5 minutes and 3000 lumens of sunlight.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the manager replied, “but our store does not negotiate prices as a principle. I’m afraid the cost will remain at three souls.”
I needed more time to think. “But you do price match?” I replied.
“Yes sir. However I have doubts that you will find another available listing of this product model in your particular currencies. Three souls.”
I pulled out an old leather bound notebook. It looked ancient, but was far older. I found the information I needed. “I see a listing for these particular items at the price of one micropercentage of the essence of blue and two tesseracts.”
The manager looked slightly confused, and started typing furiously into his computer terminal. I examined him. Something seemed off about his appearance. Maybe it was the proportions of his face. It stirred at some long forgotten part of my memory. He scowled and looked back up at me.
“Is this listing currently available?” the manager asked.
“Ah, that. No, depending on your definition of ‘currently.’ It will become available on Amazon approximately fifteen thousand years from now.”
“I’m afraid that our policy is only to price match on current listings, to allow us to adjust to changing material prices and other factors. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course,” I countered, “But you surely understand that, as our currencies are not bound temporally, neither must your prices be, and therefore your policies. Therefore this listing will be completely within the purview of this bargain.”
Something akin to a mental itch was driving me to notice something. With an effort of will, I saw that it was the original cashier, who was still standing slightly behind the manager’s shoulder and looking confused and frightened. Ah, I had mildly let my aura loose. It generally had that effect on mortals. The manager clearly wasn’t one. More than that, he was clearly a powerful immortal. His essence had affected me enough that I had stopped noticing the surroundings. Such things would be easy against a mortal, but not me. That meant he was strong.
The manager made an almost imperceptible pained expression. “You are correct,” he said. “Your price will be 1 micropercentage of blue and two tesseracts. Would you like a warranty plan?”
“For a toaster? I think not,” I said smugly as I pulled a couple of tesseracts from my satchel’s higher-dimensional-storage pocket. I handed them over. “And here is your blue.” I gifted it with a thought and noticed the world become just a little bit more orange.
A smile that was clearly a facade spread over the manager’s face as he said, “Thank you for your purchase, please come again!”
I had outwitted him. That was probably enough, so I headed toward the exit doors. I stopped on a whim just before I pushed through and re-examined my memory. There, that was it. His head seemed off because the back of it had been… lumpy somehow. And… there was also a line of a makeup prosthetic around the edge of his face. Then it clicked.
I walked back up to the counter and stepped over it.
“Janus, you sneaky bastard,” I said to the back of the so-called ‘manager’s’ head. It swiveled to face me with a smile.
“Well reasoned, Wanderer.” he said with a slight bow. “You cannot blame me for trying. Enjoy the toaster.”
I walked away again, heading for a section of wall near the door. Now that I knew to look, I felt Janus’ power on the exit doors. It would have stolen nearly all of my abilities. The transaction was just a distraction. I punched through the wall and left on my own terms.
I may have almost been unmade, but it was still better than shopping at Walmart. They charge a soul just to get in.
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In the dimly lit and slightly eerie convenience store known as "The Abyssal Mart," a lone duck waddled up to the checkout counter. His feathers were sleek and black, a stark contrast to the flickering fluorescent lights overhead. The cashier, a young human who had probably never seen a talking duck before, stared in bewilderment as the avian customer placed a small glass vial on the counter.
"Your total will be...wait, this can't be right," the cashier muttered, his fingers dancing over the register. Perplexed, he turned around and called the manager over, who appeared from the shadows like a phantom.
The manager, a middle-aged woman with a keen eye for the unusual, took one look at the glass vial and nodded knowingly. She shooed the flustered cashier away, replacing him at the register. "I'm sorry for the delay," she said to the duck with a polite nod, "We haven't had one of your kind in a while. Your total comes to 3 souls."
The duck, whose name was Quackmire, blinked his beady eyes in surprise. "Three souls? Are you serious?"
The manager leaned closer, her voice low and conspiratorial. "You see, my dear duck, we don't deal in the common currency of coins and bills here. We deal in souls. It's the only currency that matters in the grand scheme of existence.
"Quackmire let out a philosophical quack, deep in thought. He knew that what he was about to do was dangerous and ethically murky, but he had no choice. His son's soul was at stake.
"Very well," Quackmire said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "I'll pay the price."
The manager nodded approvingly and produced a small, ornate scale from beneath the counter. On one side, she placed the vial containing Quackmire's son's soul.
On the other side, she carefully arranged three empty vials, each waiting to be filled with a precious soul.As the transaction commenced, Quackmire couldn't help but launch into a philosophical rant. "You know," he began, his duckish voice carrying a touch of existential despair, "life is like a donut. Sweet, satisfying, but ultimately, it leaves a hole in your soul."
The manager, well-versed in dealing with patrons from all corners of the cosmos, listened attentively. "Ah, the futility of life and donuts," she mused, her tone as contemplative as a philosopher's. "Many have pondered it, my feathered friend."As the souls were transferred from Quackmire's being into the vials, he couldn't help but reflect on the nature of existence. What were souls, after all, but the culmination of one's experiences and choices? And what was the cost of sacrificing three souls for the sake of one?
Once the transaction was complete, Quackmire left the Abyssal Mart with his son's soul securely in his possession. He knew that he had paid a steep price, not just in souls but in the contemplation of life's meaning.
The manager watched him go, her eyes filled with a knowing wisdom. "Remember, dear duck," she called after him, "life's mysteries are as infinite as the flavors of donuts. Sometimes, it's the holes that make it all worthwhile."
Quackmire quacked in acknowledgment, his heart heavy with the weight of his choices. As he left the peculiar store and ventured into the world, he couldn't help but wonder if the pursuit of a single soul was worth the existential musings and the philosophical rant that came with it.
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ldwkatn
|
ldw7p78
|
[WP] One day anyone who turned 18 was given a superpower of their choice. The only problem, they worked like usernames with only one person having that specific superpower. This created chaos, with the first gen almost ending the world. You’re a fifth generation user, and it was now your birthday
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"Having grown up incredibly poor I knew I wanted a power I could earn money with, to help my mom and help my younger siblings. I considered every version of intelligence but from what I could see on the database I was screwed on that front, even in a different language. Same for strength, flight, teleportation, speed, etc etc etc. The list went on and on and on, of course it did, it covered billions of people and whilst we were taught how to navigate the database it was still fucking huge.
It was also drilled into us 5th Gen'rs how important it was to be specific, since when we finished typing it I that was it. Bad spelling included. The cautionary tales are wild.
But I needed money. My mum had eaten one sandwich a day for a whole week and I think the only filling was some cheap margarine. The sibs weren't doing much better and I couldn't keep lying that I had eaten at all.
And that's when I had that thought."
The interviewer nodded, everyone knew the thought now, many mad they hadn't had it themselves. For 10 years everyone had been jealous of this man, but he was the only one that thought it and he had used his gift to help not just his family but people from around the world. He waved his had for the man to continue.
"I remember sitting there, staring at the screen, reading about people who regretted what they chose, or couldn't get the one they wanted because it was still being held by some senile decrepid old Hero and the power wouldn't be available until they died. It just felt.... messy.
I thought *wouldn't it be better it we could swap*......
And that was it. I realised people would *pay* to swap powers! Old Hero with super strength in need of funds to retire and a young rookie desperate for a better power than 'see in the dark' could swap and pay for the privilege. It was perfect.
It took a few weeks for word to start spreading after I did it a couple of times but then it spread fast and before i knew there was food on the table every day, a roof that didn't leak, I helped my mom retire from her 2 jobs and sent my siblings to private schools. It's gotten pretty tiring recently though so i think I'll take a vacation as soon as I can."
The interview wound down and the photographer got some good pictures, the next day there would be a 4 page about the man who chose the super power Swapsies and how he was looking for someone to Swap.
|
"I'll be damned" I said after sighing, being a fifth gen user really puts a limit to what power I can have.
"There really ain't that much option, considering that most superpowers are already taken by the previous generation users" mumbling to myself as I continue to brainstorm a great superpower that is not yet taken.
Suddenly a commercial played on television that is infront of me. It shows a boy drawing and thinking of a possible superpower he can have when he grows up. As the boy continues to talk, my attention was drawn by the drawing depicting a blackhole infront of an astronaut. And then it hits me. A great idea for a superpower.
"HA..HAHA..HAHAHAHA, I'll be really damned if my idea is not yet taken" as my face contorts into an appearance that can only be described as ecstatic and overjoyed, I closed my eyes to imagine the power that I come up with and calm down.
After a short moment I deeply inhale and exhale before opening my eyes. I raise my right hand as if reaching for the television when a small circular thing appears and contorts the space around the television while sucking the object inside.
I smiled and was left shocked by what just happened. I tried it again and this time experimented with the power that I got. After some time, I stopped playing around and stood up from the sofa that I was sitting on the whole time.
"How could anyone not come up with the idea of blackhole..." As the thought popped up, another idea was created. "Well looks like I need to go back and study science again"
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kwip71r
|
kwhiwrx
|
[WP] You, a heroic paladin have successfully slain a fearsome dragon. But the dragon warns you that death is but a door, and dragons don't die, they reincarnate. You paid it no mind....until your son was born with golden, slitted eyes.
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Abin-Sur, dragon of the Golden Hoard, Dusk of civilizations, lies defeated. His life-blood pumping thick and hot over glittering scales and gems the size of doves eggs. Slitted eyes half-closed lie focused, dimly, on the warrior that has bested him. It was not a knight, clade in valour and the song of righteousness in his heart that slew him. It wasn't a mage, strong in knowledge and in the bending of reality to his whims. Nor a trickster and thief, cunning in his traps and wiles.
But a simple mercenary, in rusted armor and half-pitted plate. Chipped sword and cracked shield. "Mercenary." Abin-sur begins with the fire of life dimming in his heart. "Why have you slain me, you who had almost no chance." The mercenary pauses, and thinks, and shrugs. "Gonna be a bit honest here. I got into debt and this was the fastest way to get out of it. I figured, either you died and I got to pay it off, or I die and suddenly my problems no longer matter. Win-win for me I say."
Rage engulfs Abin-sur. Ender of civilizations, fear of nations, ended simply to pay off a debt? A history replete with grand battles fallen low for such a simple reason? NO.
"I curse you mercenary. I will return. For death is simply a door that I can choose to walk back through at any time, and I will come back at my choosing and your regret."
"fuckin whatever" the mercenary replies, not even bothering to turn around while he shoves gold into a canvas sack. "That sounds like a problem for future me, and as for today me I got a debt to pay".
Ten years have passed since that day. The mercenary managed to get a home, with a farm, and a tavern with a wife. A firstborn child is born to him this day, and as he holds him he notices golden slitted eyes and feral intelligence and remembers the curse of Abin-sur.
The mercenary holds him close, the would be joy of his heart, and whispers... "I fucked your mom. What a great curse you fucking idiot". And laughs while the child once known as Abin-sur cries his heart out.
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I sat in my rocking chair, cradling my newborn son in my arms as he blinked up at me with a toothless smile. His golden, slitted eyes glimmered with innocence, yet I couldn't shake the unease that settled within me.
The memory of the dragon's warning echoed in my mind, a warning I had dismissed as the ramblings of a defeated foe. I had slain the fearsome creature with my blade by laying with it. Yet now, as I gazed into my son's eyes, I couldn't ignore the resemblance in his eyes.
Was it possible? Could the dragon's words hold truth beyond the grave? Had its essence somehow found its way into the soul of my child, reincarnating in a new form?
I pushed aside the unsettling thoughts, focusing instead on the warmth of my son in my arms and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he slept. He was my flesh and blood, innocent and pure, regardless of the whispers of doubt that lingered in the back of my mind.
But as the days turned into weeks and my son's golden eyes continued to captivate and unsettle in equal measure, I couldn't shake the feeling that our connection ran deeper than mere bloodline. The dragon's warning lingered like a shadow, casting doubt on the certainty of my son's humanity and the innocence of his existence.
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mey70ly
|
mexbpze
|
[WP] "You're... NOT going to pursue the prophecy?" "Hell no. I had a really shitty life on Earth, and now I find myself isekai'd to a world without taxes or student loans. I'm not going to stress myself out being some "chosen one" when I could just live in a hut in the woods somewhere or whatever."
|
It was a few months after I told the old farts at the top of the kingdom to fuck off and ran off into the woods.
\*thunk\*
A sound echoes off the trees as I chop a log with my axe, the muscles on my bare chest glistening with a faint smear of sweat. There was not only a downside to being the 'Chosen One'. There's no way that I would have gotten so jacked up in such a short amount of time in my previous life.
Suddenly, a portal appears near my humble shack and the Demon Lord steps in.
How do I know it's the Demon Lord? Well, if you were there, you would say so too.
A tall, towering figure with a long black cloak and a biiig pair of horns.
"Hero! Why are you here and not at the frontline?"
"Why should I?"
"Without you to help the kingdom, my army is advancing as fast as a wildfire in a drought!"
"...Aaand?"
"Well, we're evil a-and you must stop us."
"'Evil? How evil?"
"Well, we, uh, eat the elderly and, um, enslave the children."
"You're lying, aren't you?"
He darts his eyes away from mine.
"Yeah."
I scratch my head, then sigh.
"Well, since you're here, come in. I'll even share some of my tea with you. It's really hard to find good leaves around here, but it's not like I have many guests either".
He follows me into the shack and we sit down at the table, a pair of steaming mugs in our hands. I start talking first.
"So, what actually happens in the occupied territory?"
"We leave the management to the human collaborators on our side."
"Human collaborators? Do they, like, pity the demons or something?"
"Some of them do, but most of them are against the reform that the Kingdom is planning for next year. A complete modernization of government structures, including a more advanced tax system, mandatory military service, and student loans, among other things."
"Where the hell do they even get such ideas?"
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"Great, another one." Destiny sighed wearily.
"Hrm?" Fate handed over a goblet and looked over her sister's shoulder. "Another what?"
"Another Mortal who thinks they're smarter than the entire universe." Destiny clinked her goblet against Fate's and pointed to the human. "It's so tedious, you know? Every single one of them...you give them an opportunity for Adventure, you offer them a Purpose for their lives, and they ***still*** think they can just say no."
"Ugh." Fate agreed. "So annoying. We're the ***primal forces of creation itself!*** And yet, they *still* think *they* are in control!"
"I can't deal with it any more!" Destiny shook her head in exasperation. "There's no gratitude in these creatures, and I am ***sick*** of it!"
"Let's ruin his life." Fate shrugged. She summoned the lifeline of the recalcitrant human and began making changes. "There, that'll teach him a lesson."
"Oh, nicely done!" Destiny nodded in approval. "Just let me add the cherry on top..."
"Enjoy your little cabin in the woods," Fate smirked. "While it still stands."
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