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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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I got the job nearly 3 years ago now. The title was “Office Assistant” with a generic description that meant you’d have to learn what your job really was during the interview, or after you’ve started. The company’s name, A to Z Professional Services, did not provide much more information. It was a quick interview, and I felt as though I was asked more about my hobbies than my work experience. After confirming I was familiar with various office software applications (and embellishing my spreadsheet skills a touch) the interviewer asked about my hobbies and we spent more than a few minutes talking about the Sci-Fi books we had read most recently. The interview concluded rather abruptly when I was told I could start the following day at the same place and any further questions I had about the role, as well as the paperwork, would be answered then.
The next day the interviewer (I think his name was John? James?) met me in the lobby and led me back to the same office. Suite 103. The file cabinets and shelves that had lined the wall were gone, as was the chair I had used during the interview. One chair, and a now bare desk were the only things left in the room, except for a red button sitting on the desk.
“So, the role is quite simple” said John, before I could express my confusion. “You are to sit at the desk, and not push the button. Is that clear?”
“Uh, sure, yeah, but is there..” I stammered in confusion.
“Simply sit at the desk, and don’t push the button. Never push the button. There are no other tasks associated with this role. Is that clear?” He repeated.
“Yes,” I responded.
It really was simple enough. I still didn’t understand why this would be a role, but the pay range listed had been reasonable. I opened my mouth to ask about salary when John placed his briefcase on the desk, pulling out a pen and a single page document.
“Give your contract a read, sign and date at the bottom” John instructed.
The contract was straight forward; I would be paid via direct deposit every Friday after clocking out. Job duties included and were limited to “sit at the desk” and “never push the button.” The only section longer than a line or two was a short non-disclosure paragraph instructing me not to discuss the details of my job. The salary listed was significantly higher than I had seen in the job listing.
“Is this salary-” I started.
“The salary is correct.” John interrupted, “we are well aware that these are not the typical obligations of an office assistant, and we prefer to pay our employees based on the value they bring to the company rather than market rates for the position.”
“Forgive me if this is naive, but what is the value I provide? What does the button do?” I asked.
“You are correct, that is naive.” John responded, curtly.
“Again, I’m sorry, but if the only action I could take is to press the button, but I am explicitly not to.. You could save six figures a year by leaving the room empty.” I pressed.
John shook his head and released a small sigh. “Perhaps I have made a mistake,” he said, extending his hand to retrieve the contract.
Asking questions was apparently not a part of the role. But the salary was simply too high to walk away from, and I withheld the form.
“Wait, no, I get it. Sit at the desk, don’t push the button, and.. don’t ask questions,” I said.
John waited a second or two before lowering his hand, and reiterated “Never push the button,” and nodded towards the contract, prompting me to sign.
John took the signed contract and had me fill out a small form with my bank routing information before putting them both back in his briefcase.
Handing me a key-card he said “This will get you into the office and will double as your time-keeping. The building doors will be unlocked during your working hours. Goodbye.”
I felt a swarm of questions suddenly brewing as I shook his hand -are there other coworkers in the building? Can the company add a mini-fridge?- but a moment's hesitation as I decided to risk those questions at a later date was all he needed to leave. I walked around the desk, dazed, and took a seat. What had I just done? This can’t be real. The rest of that week I became increasingly suspicious that the whole thing had been a sham. The job itself was ludicrous, and the salary they promised even more so, it couldn’t be real. But when I checked my account that Friday after work, the deposit was there.
That first month I spent a lot of time trying to solve the mystery I had signed on to. Most of the suites in the building were occupied by small independent practices, each with their own small brass name plate under the suite number. Suite 103 was one of two that did not have a name plate, along with 307. If I had a coworker, I guessed that was their office, or perhaps John’s? But I never saw him coming or going. In fact, the day I started was the last time I would see John. The red button was firmly secured to its place on the desk, and the desk firmly secured to the floor. I figured any wiring for the button was hidden in the desk. The question of what my purpose in the role was continued to nag at me, but without any clues I never got closer to the answer. A to Z Professional Services was clearly a shell company, and no amount of Google searches, or even a visit to the city’s Public Records Department could turn up anything useful.
Eventually I gave up the search. The money was good and hit my account exactly 7 minutes after leaving each day. I could spend the majority of my time reading. John did not respond to my inquiry as to adding some amenities to the office, so bringing a mini-fridge felt like a risk. I spent the rest of the week half-expecting someone to show up to remove it, or fire me. Nobody ever came, so I added a microwave, coffee maker, and eventually some home gym equipment. Any time someone would ask about my job I described it as “eh, just paper-pushing, but it pays the bills.” Not quite as boring as the job actually was, but boring enough to dissuade follow up questions. This is how it was for nearly 3 years, until roughly 15 minutes ago.
At 4:52 PM a buzzing pulled my attention from my book to my phone on the desk, where it lay in front of the button and my keycard. The name was unknown, but I answered.
“Hello?”
A man's voice responded, sternly and slightly panicked “Press the button. Now!”
“But you’ve been paying me for 3 years not to..” I started to respond, but realized the line was already dead. I looked at the button. Had that been John on the phone? Thinking about it, I didn’t think so, but it had been so long since we last spoke as he left my “orientation.” If that wasn’t John, then who? And do I comply? John and the contract had both been very explicit that I was never to press the button. But in 3 years I had never interacted with anyone else at A to Z Professional Services, maybe this person out-ranked John? Strange as it is, this job suited me quite well, and the wrong decision here could bring it to an end. I stopped my feet, and realized I had been pacing. I looked at the clock; 4:57, nearly time to leave, and definitely already later than the urgency implied by the caller’s voice. I sat back in the chair, staring at the red button and my keycard laying next to it. I took a deep breath and reached out..
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"Right. Sit here, do nothing, NEVER press the button, don't talk to anyone about it. Easy." I needed something easy. Not to put too fine a point on it, but rent was coming due and I hadn't had much luck with jobs lately.
Now, the thing about easy jobs is that you have no idea just how DULL a job can be until you've done it for a few weeks. At first it seemed like Heaven. No snotty customers, no ringing phones, nobody shouting at me. Just me, a comfy chair, and the Big Red Button. The novelty got me through the first couple hours, but eventually time started to drag by ever more slowly. There just wasn't anything to \*do\*. I finally allowed myself a look at my watch after sitting for what seemed like forever, sure it must be time for lunch. It was 10:30. Damnit. Eventually I made it to lunch, then back to the desk. Yup, still boring.
The afternoon sped by like an exhausted slug, the seconds crawling past. An eternity went by before 5 pm, during which I was sure civilizations had risen and fallen. Finally, the blessed hour arrived. Sweet freedom! I went home to my dark apartment, ate a solitary dinner, and passed out in front of the TV.
That was the first day. By the end of the week I was losing my mind with the sheer tedium. I had to figure out something to DO. They wouldn't let me bring a book, or any electronics, or anything. It was frustrating.
I was late one morning, searching my sock drawer for two that were at least vaguely the same color, when I found the little baggie at the bottom. I'd had a few shrooms left over from a party awhile back, and forgotten about them. This was what I needed! "If I'm tripping balls, I can't be bored." I figured I could easily get to my desk before they kicked in. Without further thought, I popped a few into my mouth and slipped the baggie in my coat pocket. I was just coasting down the last block to work when I idly reached into the baggie for another mushroom, and it was empty. Shit. I hadn't meant to eat that many. How many was that? How much was left in the bag? I hadn't weighed it, but my hazy memories told me was maybe 4 grams, dried. Fuck. This was going to be one hell of a workday.
It seemed like I'd been at the desk for hours, but I knew that was just how time passed here. Nothing to do, so...I gave up, leaned back in the chair, and just counted the dots in the acoustic tiles overhead. Eventually, as a warm glow started to suffuse my body and a light sweat broke out on my forehead, the shrooms started to kick in. The dots in the tiles swam back and forth, marched in orderly processions across the ceiling, to the music of the tinny corporate musak speaker, which now thundered and roared like the symphony of the gods. A parade of wildly colored ants made its way down one breathing, pulsing wall, and started to meander across toward the desk. Hrm. I was idly wondering if that was going to be a problem, when Hell's own Klaxon erupted violently in my ears.
I jumped, uttering the most obscene oaths I knew, and turned to look for the source of the infernal noise. The phone. It was just the phone. Oh, god! The phone! The phone was ringing! Nobody had told me what to do if the phone rang. Do I answer it? I guess? I'd been told I wasn't allowed to make personal calls, so I'd ignored it. But now... it was ringing, and I was the only person there. What if it was important? I hadn't been given any instructions about the phone. What if whoever it was wanted something, and I had to get it for them, and I didn't even know how to find another person. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. What to do? The phone continued its wails, grating in my ears like steel. What if I don't answer it? What then? Will I get fired? Will something bad happen? I was too high for this.
Finally, I had an idea. I could just make this whole situation go away. As if the phone was going to bite me, I tentatively reached out and grasped the receiver, then picked it up and dropped it back on the hook. Instant relief. The phone stopped ringing, the red light stopped flashing, and normality was returned. My heart hammering away in my chest, I breathed a sigh of blissful relief.
I was just returning my attention to the file of multicolored ants, who were now coming ominously close to my chair, when it rang again. God-fucking-damnit!! I knew - I was going to have to answer it. My heart had returned to my throat and waves of nausea rolled over me as I turned on the speaker.
"Uh, H-hello?"
A metallic voice rattled back at me, faintly and somewhat garbled. Barely-controlled panic permeated his tone. "Oh, thank God.
You picked up this time. Listen to me. You need to push the button."
<cont in child>
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k9pqnoi
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k9pi5jd
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[WP] You recently discovered that your father, whom you never knew, is actually a crime-fighter with no free time, and he is unaware that you are his son. In order to talk to him, you become a villain.
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Most cops worship at the altar of The Shriek, and those of us who don't are careful to keep it to ourselves. Don't get me wrong, if they had to, they'd arrest him on sight. That is, while on sight of people bound to make a fuss if they see an LEO asking him for his autograph.
The few cops who don't like him are the ones who still believe in human rights and due process, and in not secretly celebrating when burglars are found impaled on traffic lights.
Me, I don't like him because of that and because he's my father.
A few years back I made the mistake of taking one of those 46 And Counting tests and I came up related to DNA found at crime scenes. Then someone from the Union approached me quietly to tell me who that DNA belonged to and why, surely, as a cop, I would agree it was better to keep it all discreet. I agreed, out of shame.
I never met my mother, grew up in the system. And after it became known through gossip who my father was, I had to -also discreetly- beat up a couple guys. See, there was a betting pool on who my mother may be, with three of the sexiest former costumed criminals as the favorites. And the questions about whether I remembered “coming out of there” got to be too much.
Growing in the system, they say, has a way of twisting you. Me, it gave me an obsession with bullies, particularly righteous bullies. That's why I became a cop. That's why I can't stand vigilantes. All they are is assholes with a fondness for violence, who found an acceptable target. I do see the irony, I want to squash that irony.
I shouldn't be in pursuit right now. The orders may be to capture The Shriek, but status quo is to not run too fast and find something else with which to get busy. It's not just that The Shriek is scary, it's that he “cleans the city” the way the force wish they could, were it not for all those damn human rights and laws and freedoms. If it wasn't for this need to bring the bastard in, I'd have quit by now.
I run up the rundown stairs. This building is what cops call a nest. The tenants, what they call vermin. A Shriek feeding ground. When there aren't big time criminals doing something out there, when it's hard to even find shoplifters, he comes here to beat up a few junkies.
A kid looks at me through a half open door. He looks dirty. Probably parents who have fallen too deep into despair to even remember they have a child. I make a mental note to call a social worker I know, if I make it through the night.
There's screaming coming down the stairs. Some of warning, some of delirium, some of fear and pain. And when I make it to the top there's the sickening sound of fists on flesh. Whoever's getting the Shriek Special is not able to scream or grunt anymore.
The door is wide open and I run in. There's two pulps down already, hopefully dead for mercy's sake, and The Shriek is working up a third.
The vigilante’s costume has changed through the years, and these days he wears a flat black faceplate, spray painted with bright yellow thorns. The same pattern repeats all through his body armor, which gives the impression of nothing but sharp edges.
The face plate turns to me and his voice comes out of a speaker, thick and menacing.
“I got this one, officer”.
I wonder what's under the plate. I am curious if it would be an older version of my own face looking back.
I grab my gun and aim.
“On the ground, hands behind your head!” I order.
The Shriek tilts his head, uncomprehending.
I recite the main charges for which he's wanted and repeat the command to get on the ground.
And he gets it. Instantly. There's no witnesses forcing me to pretend I care about his extrajudicial acts.
The Shriek drops the bleeding mess he was tenderizing and squares up, intimidating me with his frame and the armor on top of it.
“Wanna dance, *muchacho*?” The heavily accented and mocking way he says ‘muchacho’ throws me for a loop. I know I'm half white and that he's that half, but I didn't see coming he'd be that shade of white.
I repeat the command to get on the ground, hands behind his head.
“What, I fucked up one of your *vatos*?” His armored gloves creak as he tightens his fists. For an instant I wonder what it would've been like to grow up under those fists instead of the foster ones.
What the hell am I doing? This thing, this nightmare has lived dealing violence longer than I've existed. Am I really expecting to zip tie his armored wrists and walk him down to my car? Drive him to the station? Show everybody there that I got their hero?
“Your move, *holmes*” He says, like reading my mind.
I can already see the story. Corrupt cop killed by The Shriek. Commissioner states vigilantism still unacceptable.
I came here with an obsessive intention, to capture The Shriek. I also came here with a non-regulation gun I took from the evidence room. Specially designed, gun and bullets, to pierce The Shriek’s body armor. We got it from a weapons dealer with a grudge and really shitty tax evading practices. I told myself it was only for a desperate situation, but I hadn't wanted to see that it was desperate from the get go.
I repeat the command, count to ten, then I shoot.
One of the bullets went through the face plate, cracking it. The rest also delivered, going clean through his center of mass.
I can't help myself. With shaking hands I pull off his face plate. I don't know what I was expecting. I guess if you look long enough you could say I look like him. I have his nose, but softer. I have his eyes but wider apart. I don't have the hole on his right cheek where the bullet went in.
Everything dawns on me all at once and I throw up right besides The Shriek's corpse. There goes a bunch of evidence. But who cares at this point? I went down the path to becoming him before I knew I was doing it. I wonder if he'd be proud now.
I walk down the stairs hearing whispering, people beginning to wonder what the fuck happened, if The Shriek had his full and went home, and they can come out of hiding.
Outside the building I remember to call that social worker. More evidence linking me to this mess.
I drive to a few blocks from my place and drop the patrol car. Walk the rest of the way, get a bag and the few things I need or care about, get in my personal car and drive away. There will be a price on my head in this city before the sun comes up, but it won't be the criminal element setting it.
***
More of my stories at r/BradingRoom
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'Powerless...the both of us are powerless. I know he's my dad though, but how does he do the things he does?' Jamal thinks, 'He says something that makes his amulet glow and then it's like the world around him glitches to do... something. Usually stuff that benefits him. I need to find his power. Then I can make it my own...and he'll see me.'
Jamal sets his eyes back on the street, everything is going according to plan so far. He has a friend across town who has a very useful power right now. She can control radio waves, and with the right setup, she is now tricking all police to head towards the opposite side of town. It's a classic setup really, if you want a hero to show, make sure they're needed.
"Right on time!"
Jamal watches as his dad lands on the roof with a gentle and almost cloud like grace, the glow from the amulet around his neck quickly fading.
Jamal began to approach his father, "I knew you'd come, and it's time you listened."
His dad, the local hero known as Hexing, wasted no time in rushing towards his unbeknownst to him son. He grabbed his shirt and quickly dangled him off the ledge of the building with a strength that his body shouldn't be capable of.
Hexing then stares into his son's eyes and makes his demanding questions, "What is your plan? What have you done?!"
Jamal smiles and reaches his hand out towards his father's shoulder, carful not to let his eyes wander towards the amulet his father always wears.
"Mr. Hexing...or might I say Kobi Shepard?"
Jamal's smile turns into a devilish smirk as he sees the visage his father puts on as a hero vanishes. Jamal then watches as the amulet around his father's neck glows like before as he speaks some strange archaic language.
But, as his father's muscles tense up to throw his son back onto the roof, Jamal snatches the glowing amulet from his father's neck and rips it free.
Suddenly, his father loses his strength and collapses as his son, who was dangling over the ledge of the building falls.
Jamal smiles as he falls. The building is tall, but the fall is mere seconds. Shouting to the amulet in his hand, he recites the same words he's heard his father speak to it, the words Jamal has spent hours memorizing over recordings of his father's battles.
Suddenly, the amulet glows as it recognizes the voice of it's new master. Jamal's fall ceases and he simply floats there. It feels like he's being cradled in a massive and invisible hand. He then looks up towards the top of the building as his father looks down in disbelief.
Jamal flies back up the building to his dad as he stands atop the invisible force that lifts him.
"H-how? The amulet...it requires someone of blood relation. But you can't-"
Jamal laughs, his outburst interrupting his fathers disbelief.
"Really?! Do you think that it's so impossible? That your youth would never catch up to you? Welcome to the real world, Dad! Your actions have consequences...and just like you made me live without something, I'm going to make you suffer the same!"
Jamal then flies closer to his father as he can tease him with a whisper, making sure to stay just out of arms reach.
"The look on your face. You can hardly believe it yet the proof is right in front of you. I'm surprised you didn't see it before, but then again, nature versus nurture, right? I was forced to become stronger than you, and now you'll get to see that in full. So, about me taking something from you...this amulet is mine now. But don't you worry, I'm not just taking something from you, I'm also giving you something. You have a son now~"
Jamal's smile is wide and eyes crazed as he points his father's gaze to a nearby holoboard (holographic billboard used on building in the city). On the board is an article (created by Jamal's friend with the radio control) that is just being released saying not only that Hexing's true identity is Kobi Shepard, but that his son is Jamal Shepard, the new villain who's named himself Gozer.
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lkdr1we
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lkdiqp7
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[WP] “So my mom is half-Fae, and my dad is half-dragon; that’s where my powers come from. How about you?” “I’m half-mermaid on my mom’s side, hence the wheelchair.” Your new magic school roommates suddenly turn to you. “What about you?”
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"Me? I'm an orphan. Da coulda been anything, regular human or a Demon or an elf or whatever. Same for Ma." I gave everyone a small smile. I'd practiced the damn thing enough, just the right mixture of melancholy wistfulness and a little bit of bravery. "We'll never know, I suppose."
Normally, this is when people would pat me on the back, give me a half smile, and awkwardly change the subject. Nobody wants to talk about the orphan kid's lineage, especially if the orphan kid isn't particularly gifted at anything at all and manages to be exactly average all the time. C's get degrees, baby.
Instead, Elohim, who claimed his mother was a half-Fae and his father a dragon, just smirked. I didn't want to point out that Fae and Dragons were diametrically opposed species with no genetic compatibility whatsoever, and so it was more likely that his father was a Drake than a full-blooded Dragon, but the smirk made me consider it.
"What do you *mean*, we'll never know?" He laughed and pointed at Cosere, who had remained silent throughout the exchange. "She's a Time-Waif, she can just take a little peek into your history, and bam, we found 'em."
"I—uhh—"
Fuck. Cosere, who had been staring curiously at me nodded.
"I really don't think it's necessary. I don't really want to know, you know?"
"It's not a big deal, dude." Elohim stretched. "She's really good at at it. It doesn't hurt either, I asked her to help me find my notebook just a couple days ago. Got the memory of a goldfish, you know?"
"Ay, watch it. Goldfish are smart as hell." Juna threw a pencil at Elohim, clearly a little incensed at the goldfish slander. "They've already solved Navier-Stokes."
"Then why don't they tell anyone about it?" Elohim's tail, covered in deep-sapphire blue scales (another sign he was a Drake; the Dragons had skin of stone, ice, and on rare occasion, wood), caught the pencil and twirled it about. "Seems selfish to keep it to themselves."
He paused.
"Get it? Selfish? Shellfish?"
"I want to drown you."
"I want to erase your existence."
Juna and Cosere spoke simultaneously, sighing at Elohim.
"Anyway, Cosere, you down? Shall we solve the mystery then?" Elohim chuckled, relishing the pain he'd caused. "Good day to find about family, eh?"
"I really, really don't think—"
But Cosere had already begun. I could see her eyes shift to a deep purplish hue, see the irises split into a panopticon, into a kaleidoscopic filled with purple light. Standard Time-Waif stuff. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it before, honestly. Time-Waifs had a particular scent, like burning sunshine with a hint of honeyed gestalt.
A few seconds later, her nose started bleeding. A few seconds after that, she blinked, and the purple dissipated from her eyes entirely.
"What. The. Fuck." She finally broke her silence. "Dude, what the actual fuck?"
"What?" Elohim, who had been so focused on me that he hadn't seen Cosere bleed, looked at her and yelped, a little spout of fire shooting from his nose. "Holy shit, you're bleeding?"
Thanks, Captain Obvious.
"When you said you're an orphan, I mean, I didn't think—" Cosere ignored him entirely. "You literally are an orphan, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Then how can you— I mean, it's genetic, right? We know it's genetic. So, your magic is—"
Wordlessly, I pressed a panel at the base of my neck, and my left eyeball retracted into my skull. The original design had the battery in my chest, but that was a little too obvious. Subtle was better.
"Battery powered, I suppose you could call it. I'm not sure the Heart of a dead Elemental is exactly what I would call a battery, but it's close enough."
Elohim drifted closer, mesmerized by the light emanating from my eye, fingers outstretched.
"Hey, no touching!"
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“So my mom is half-Fae, and my dad is half-dragon; that’s where my powers come from. How about you?” “I’m half-mermaid on my mom’s side, hence the wheelchair.” Your new magic school roommates suddenly turn to you. “What about you?”
>Uh, well, I really don't want to talk about it, it's kind of embarrassing.
This only seemed to peak their interest.
"Oh c'mon! Everybody's got a mixed lineage of some kind of another. What's wrong?"
>It's not that.
"Then what is it? Is your Dad a Djinn? Mom took advantage of a magical slave or something, something where it'll out one or both of your parents as bad people?"
>No, well, maybe to some, but, could we just drop it?
"Oh no, now you've got to tell us. Nobody's gonna judge you. Hells my grandad was a half demon born of an infernal pact, straight up rape and murder. Can't be worse than that."
>No, but, everybody will think of me different and I don't want to-
"Tell us!"
>OK! Fine. Um. My Dads kind of..
"Kind of.. what?"
>My Dad's Boccob.
The stunned silence lasted only a moment.
"You're the son of the literal God of Magic..?"
>Yeah.
"Oh bullshit! And who's your Mum then? Ehlonna Goddess of the woodlands? Ha!"
>Is it that obvious?
The stunned silence lasted much longer this time.
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jcvk6pg
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jcu6gr8
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[WP] You are a super hero named “Hammerspace” due to your ability to seemingly pull objects of any size out of a magic bag. In actuality, you stop time and just grab stuff from your surroundings. You were captured by your nemesis and he is super confused as to why the bag won’t work when he uses it.
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"What the hell is this?" the Decimator asked.
"It's my magic bag," answered Hammerspace.
"It's a duffel bag."
"It is."
"It says Good Life Fitness on the side."
"Congratulations, you can read," said Hammerspace, prompting another shock from the goon holding the cattle prod.
Hammerspace screamed in pain. *Make it seem convincing,* he thought to himself. *No one needs to know.*
The Decimator was furiously turning the bag inside out, finding nothing. "It's just an empty gym bag!" he said, throwing the thing on the ground.
*He feels safe,* Hammerspace thought. *He's got me on my knees, my hands cuffed, surrounded by a dozen goons wielding stun rifles and two wielding cattle prods. He thinks this is all it takes. That's good. It's working. I don't have to reveal too much today. Spit up some blood.*
"That's because it's *my* magic bag," Hammerspace said after spitting up some blood. "You can get your own. You get one free with a membership. And it looks like you could use--" Hammerspace said before being interrupted with a cattle prod to the side. Had the noise from the electric prod not been so loud, the Decimator and the goons might have been able to hear the gentle popping sounds of Hammerspace destroying the locking mechanisms of his handcuffs. All it took was a finger tap at 50% of the speed of light.
Hammerspace fell to the ground in pain, making sure to keep his hands together to keep up the ruse. "Okay fine! You want the truth?! I'm a fraud!" Hammerspace shouted. Teary eyes, blood flowing from his mouth and nose, the goons had made it really easy for him to seem helpless. "I'm a party magician! I pull rabbits out of hats and stuff! It's all... it's all been a lie."
The Decimator huffed. "What?! You're a stage magician who just so happened to take thirty of my guys out of commission?"
"Got lucky, I guess."
"No, no! I'm not buying it! No way! You're another one of those magic freaks!" The Decimator turned and faced the hideous shrine dedicated to all the magic users he killed and was going to kill. "I'm not going to stand for it! I'm to going make sure every last one of you is decimated!"
*Don't do it,* Hammerspace thought to himself. *We're so close to the end and quibbling over grammar is only going to delay things.*
"I swear! I'm telling the truth!" Hammerspace pleaded. "I'm just good at magician things. Like... like... sleight of hand, misdirection, picking locks..."
By the time the Decimator looked back at Hammerspace, the hero had wrestled the cattle prods from the hands of the goons standing above them and was jamming them into the goons' stomachs. The Decimator's eyes shone with rage. "Stop him!" the Decimator shouted to his stun rifle-holding goons.
*Stun rifles firing at me from every angle? They couldn't have made this easier for me if they had tried,* thought Hammerspace.
The dozen goons surrounding Hammerspace raised their stun rifles and shot at the hero. None of them registered the force directing their shot to a different goon because it occurred in the split second before they pulled the trigger. Convulsing with the shock of a few thousand volts, the goons slumped to the ground, leaving only Hammerspace and the Decimator.
Hammerspace looked around the room at the downed goons. "Wow. Now *that* was unlucky."
The Decimator was terrified, his sense of security shattered. He fell backwards, scrambling away from Hammerspace and stuttering "Stay away from me! You're one of them! You're one of them! Stay away from me!"
"That shouldn't be a problem. I hate visiting people in prison."
*That was a good line,* thought Hammerspace. *I should probably end things here. Oh wait, no, I have to take him to the police and probably testify against him. Might as well tell him the other thing now.*
"Oh, by the way, decimate does not just mean destroy, it means to reduce something by ten percent. So you saying you're going to decimate every last one of them doesn't make any sense."
(Edited for spelling/grammar and continually calling him Hammersmith by mistake.)
|
“Aha! I’ve captured you at last, Hammerbag!”
“It’s Hammerspace.”
“Whatever, H-man.”
The man in the white doctor’s coat smirked.
“Put him in the chair,” he ordered his two henchmen.
The henchmen roughly frogmarched Hammerspace between them up to the dais, then held him down cautiously while a third hencher approached and put on the handcuffs.
He had captured Hammerbag using an usual
ploy.
Hammerspace couldn’t even remember this villain’s name, super or normal.
He did remember seeing him somewhere though.
“You probably recognize me, don’t you.”
The villain tried to sneer, but came off as more eager for recognition than anything else.
Hammerspace decided to just mentally refer to him as V-man.
“Yeah of course I do,” he replied. “We both already know each other, so let’s skip the introductions and get straight to you revealing your evil plan.”
V-man smirked. He seemed to do that a lot, Hammer thought.
In a breathy eager voice he replied, “A wise villain does not reveal his (or her or their!) plan until the plan is already accomplished.
Come on, that’s Villaining 101.”
I flopped my head over in exhausted frustration.
“It’s been a long day. And night. Would you like to get to the point?”
The villain did his smirking thing. Again. Didn’t this guy’s smirking muscles ever tire out? What, did he go to the smirking gym?
“I already have what I want. I have your wonderful bag.”
At last.
“That’s what I thought you wanted. Well, go ahead, try it,” I replied defiantly.
V-man spoke up.
“Oh, I know all the tricks of superheros.
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jbd75rs
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jbcyxz8
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[WP] The elven children have a ceremony to summon their spirit animals. Most get unicorns, phoenixes, fire salamanders etc. One kid ends up summoning a human, smoking a cigar and sporting a hefty shotgun.
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Five elven children sat in the woods. There were 5 tree stumps laid out in front of them in a circle and a glyph carved into the dirt between the stumps. Each sat in front of one, eyes closed and whispering an ancient rite.
This was the Familiar Ceremony. Each Elf would summon a familiar attuned to a certain element that most aligned with the elves strengths and their needs.
The first elf, a girl of 16, wearing a silk dress and fine jewelry, a clear member of the higher class, who went by the name of Presta Polena, was very proper in her incantations. Just before she had made fun of one of the other girls in the ceremony and was generally unpleasant to be around. The small creature that appeared upon her stump was a fairy. An impish creature that was as pretty and rotten as her master, but it was clear it was an emissary of nature.
The next, a boy donning an ancient carved mask, but on the side of his head as to keep his face revealed, with clothing made of leaves and other natural material, who was generally a serious and heroic man, despite being 14. His father was a warrior, his father’s father was a warrior, and his father’s first son was a warrior, and it was clear that he would follow soon. Standing beside this boy, was named Noren Alad IV, a suit of armor appeared, instead of on the stump. It’s only bearer being a ghost that none could see. It stood in solidarity beside the boy- they both understood they would become the most daring of allies. Though it wasn’t exactly an element per se, the ideal of honor and justice was manifested in this specter, and that was an attribute that the familiars could embody.
Then was Eria Jeris, who was also 16. He was fairly unnoticeable, save for his clear strength and the deep soot engraved in his face and body. Even after washing up for the ceremony, it was clear that he had spent much of his life by a furnace, even if he was only 16. Unsurprisingly, a small dragon appeared on his stump. The fire of the dragon suited him better than his own forging equipment.
The 4th was another girl, but of 15, and she was the one who Presta was making fun of. She was wearing a run-down dress that was a little too big for her, but had many pins stuck in it to tighten it. Her hair was short, but rolled into a bun. She generally gave the appearance of one who isn’t accustomed or able to live a life of fancy, but is certainly trying their hardest for the occasion. However, the familiar that was summoned by this girl, her name being Aleca Hunnba, was unlike any other. It was a man. Just a regular human, with a cigar and some strange apparatus slung over his shoulder. He was definitely a spirit, because his complete lack of interest in the situation implies that this was expected for him.
“‘Sup kid. You were the one summoned me?” The man said in a gruff voice.
“W…what? Summoned you? But you’re not even a familiar, you’re just a human!” Aleca exclaimed.
“Oh trust me, I’m more familiar than anything else you’ll ever know. Something tells me we’re gonna get along kid.” The familiar replied.
“W…how can you tell?” Aleca asked, still a bit fearful.
“‘Cause…” The main explained as he got up, “I can’t be summoned unless it’s by someone who gets me.” He stretched his legs against the tree stump. “You’re fed up with everyone else. You’re sick and tired of pretending to be forgiving and agreeable. You just wanna see them all hate you, even if just for a second. You don’t care, you just want to be left alone to your own devices.” He paced around the summoning circle, stopping for a moment to stare down the suit of armor and nod in respect.
“How… that’s… yeah, you’re right. But still, how are you a familiar? You’re just a human, aren’t you?”
“Familiars can be anything, kid. So long as they embody an element of attribute that is generally revered. Fire, water, nature, power, justice…” he looks towards the suit of armor again, this time with much more friendly reverence, “honor…” and the suit of armor put a gauntlet against its chest.
“The reason why I’m so hard to summon is because I’m generally not revered. Ysee, kid, what I am…” he chuckles for a second, “I am that feeling of not giving a shit anymore.”
|
Folmon glanced at the figure standing over him, its looming body muscular and tall compared to his own slender and tiny build.
It was tradition for elven children to undergo the Ceremony of The Spirits once they’ve been blessed by Psyche, the goddess of the soul. But while most children received gorgeous unicorns, burning phoenixes, or flaming fire salamanders, Folmon hadn’t gotten any of those.
Instead, he’d gotten a human smoking a cigar and sporting a hefty shotgun.
“Alright,” the human started. “Which one of you fuckers summoned me?”
All at once, the elven children present pointed at Folmon, who was staring agape at the man in front of him.
“What’s your name, kid?”
“F-Folmon.”
“Well, Folmon, it seems as if there’s been a grave mistake. You see, I may have accidentally pissed off Psyche and now owe her a favour, but I’m sure you can get me out of this if you only ask her.”
Folmon blinked, looking around at all the spirits floating in front of their chosen elves, before turning back to the man and shaking his head. “No thanks.”
“Okay, great so here’s what you…. Wait, what did you just say?”
“No thanks,” Folmon repeated. “You’re much cooler than all the other spirits I’ve seen.”
The man groaned. “Nope! No way — I’m definitely not cooler. Not at all. Nope. Nada. Zilch. Okay maybe I’m cooler *but it’s not like I can help it!* Psyche,” he yelled. “Psyche! You old bat! I’m sorry for shooting your husband, but in my defence he was being an asshole!”
Folmon watched the man in front of him rage about silently and wondered, not for the first time, what would happen if he introduced him to his father.
—
/r/itrytowrite
Edit: grammar
Edit 2: changed a word
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mcmtb8p
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mcmhxhm
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[WP] One moment, you’re with your MIL talking to your wife’s estranged sister about the two reconnecting and taking a sip of a drink she gave you. The next, you’re waking up in your wife’s arms as she carries you out of an exploding building covered in blood, her sister’s severed head on her belt.
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"This really isn't what I was expecting, Mrs. Pherr," I said, taking a tiny sip of the wine.
She sighed, leaning forward on the table with her chin in her hands. "Look, I realize that growing up, the girls didn't, ah," she paused, clearly groping for the diplomatic way to say it.
"Mom, you can say that I was a right bitch," Lillith said. I gave my wife's older sister a side eye. My wife hadn't told me just what went down between them, only that when she moved out, she'd cut ties with her sister completely. "I don't blame Eve for refusing to talk to me. But I'm better now. I just want to apologize, sincerely, and try to make up for it if she'll let me."
My mother-in-law made a tutting sound, and took a much larger drink of her own wine. "I know that asking you over to fix that sink was a bit underhanded, if also needed. I just... I would like to be able to have both of my daughters together for things like my birthday, or holidays."
I sighed, and pushed the wine glass aside; I wasn't much of a drinker when I was in a good mood, much less a bad one. "Mrs. Pherr," I started.
"I just got used to you calling me Lucy," she complained.
I gave her a flat stare across the table. "First names are for people I don't feel upset with. *As* I was *saying*, I know Eve is going to be quite upset at just the mention of this, and I wouldn't be surprised if she withdraws your invitation to our barbecue next month." Pushing back my chair, I started to stand up, when there was a loud boom and a flash of light.
The next thing I remembered was my wife, holding my arms thrown over her shoulders, dragging me across the lawn. The afternoon light was weird, until I glanced over my shoulder and realized that my mother-in-law's house was completely on fire. "Babe?" I managed to cough out.
She stopped, which let me get my feet under me, though when she let go of my arm I collapsed to my knees, struggling to breathe. When I opened my eyes after a wheezing coughing fit, I recoiled.
Hanging from my wife's belt was her sister's head ... except her skin was now dark red, four horns grew from the top of her skull, her hair had turned charcoal black, and weird purple blood was dripping from the neck stump. Surprisingly, I did not feel the urge to throw up. "Babe?" I asked again, pointing a trembling arm towards the severed head.
My normally serene, stoic wife was scowling and almost vibrating with rage. "I told her if she ever came anywhere near you, I'd cut her filthy head off," she snarled.
"Really, Eve, don't you think you went a *little* too far? How am I supposed to explain this to my insurance? Or the HOA?"
Still on my knees, I turned around, hearing my mother-in-law speaking. Except now she stood nine feet tall, with iridescent jet-black angel wings growing from her back, a barbed red tail flicking back and forth behind her ankles, and a pitchfork big enough to hold a whole pig over a fire to roast.
My mind felt blurry as I finally put together clues that had been staring me in the face since I started dating Eve six years ago. Lucy Pherr. Other people joked about having the Devil for their mother-in-law, but I actually did, and sadly she was pretty decent as in-laws went.
*Now* I felt like throwing up.
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You see, I always knew my wife was a jealous woman... but this takes the cake. She had cleared the room with terrifying efficiency, clearing out busboys, waitresses and then, her sister. A single fell swoop from her machete had rendered her decapitated and no more. . I frankly didn’t know she had it in her to do such a thing as she dragged me from the burning building. We were leaving to a chorus of exploding gas fryers and screaming wounded. I watched the flames in dismay as she loaded me into the trunk of her car, throwing in her sister's head to join me in my enforced solitude. I for one did not expect discussions for a surprise birthday party to be this traumatic.
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ja1ychx
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ja1me61
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[WP] You wake up in the middle of the night, your arm hangs over the side of your bed. It’s pitch black & your room is shrouded in deep shadow. Something unseen seizes your hand. You grasp it tightly, knowing that first impressions are important & a firm, confident handshake establishes dominance.
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My eyes snapped open.
Something cold and boney was holding my hand.
I continued my slow breathing as I my eyes looked around the dark room.
My steyr AUG rested against the wall two paces to my left. My 1911 rested on the nightstand, also on my left. The problem was my left hand...was holding something that I wasn't sure was friendly. Something had breached my warding, and I wouldn't reach my gun without it knowing I was moving to get it.
I'm a wizard...I'm in humanly fast. That didn't mean shit against something that could crack my magical shielding.
<Fuck it.> I thought as I gripped the object tight. It felt like a corpses hand. I almost shuddered.
"Howdy." I shook the hand awkwardly. "Didn't catch a name there stranger."
"No name." A voice hissed from under the bed.
I gritted my teeth, "well that is a failure of your parents. You ought to have a name."
"Parent?" The voice seemed perplexed.
"Sure." I squeezed the hand before releasing, sliding up to a semisitting position. "My name is Ramius, do you want a name?"
Silence.
My right hand began snaking out to my pistol as something slithered from the shadows under my bed.
The thing was vaguely humanoid, sort of like a bag of bones wrapped in leather and rags.
"Am Boogey. Boogy have name?" The Boogeyman seemed to plop into a sitting position.
I let out a sigh. Boogeymen were rarely an issue unless you were a rapist or a child molester. Then Boogeymen were hell on wheels.
"Sure, you remember your first name?"
The boogey cocked it's head.
"You were a kid once, a human. Your soul stayed behind out of some kind of duty to protect."
"I kid?" The boogey asked quizzically.
"Not now, you're a Boogeyman now."
"Boogey kid?"
I sighed. I wanted the frustration to speak for me. I couldn't. I would be scolding a dead child that had the mental acuity of a 3 year old. It could rip apart most grown men with the effort of a grizzly killing a squirrel, but it was oddly gentle.
"I'll call you Billy."
"Boogey Billy." The creature bobbed its head, seemingly pleased.
I stared at it as the pregnant pause loomed like a full moon. "So...Billy. whatcha doin' here?"
The creature shifted nervously, "Boogey told Billy to see Ramius."
I frowned. "Another Boogey?"
Billy nodded.
I had only met one other Boogey, one that had hidden itself in a construction site. That Boogey had helped me take out some trash...namely a pedophile.
"Why are you here Billy?"
The Boogey shifted again. "Billy scared."
I raised an eyebrow. "Of?"
The creature shifted side to side nervously. It slithered closer, hand clasping mine. "Billy find bad men. Billy can't help. Billy not strong."
I narrowed my eyes, tactfully ignoring the cold corpse hand enveloping mine. "Since when do Boogeys get scared?"
A litteral Boogeyman, a vengeful spirit given flesh to preserve life and destroy evil began shaking. "Bad men made Billy go away."
I was out if bed before the creature sentence ended. If there was something out there that could banish a Boogey, that was more than a bit concerning. It was my duty.
"Billy take me to Bad men?"
"Now?" I felt a coalescence of energy as the monster began to teleport.
"Not yet, I need to get ready."
I heaved my body armor from the wall, I stopped. "How many people can you take with you when you teleport?"
Billy the Boogy thought, hand scratching at its head.
"Two?" It held up both hands.
"Good," I picked up my cell, "I want someone to come with us."
"Who?"
I grinned, "a very bad man."
The Boogey stiffened.
I realized my error, quickly backtracking, "Not that kind of bad man, a good bad man."
"Billy have concern."
I waved a hand, "naw, he's cool."
"Why cold?"
I sighed, Jesus they could be literal.
"Just...trust me."
"A good batman?"
I blinked, "huh?"
The boogey just stared.
"Ohhhh." I snorted.
"Funny?"
I nodded, "mat is the opposite of batman."
"Mat good?"
I shrugged, "Good at decapitaing bad men."
"Good batman."
|
It was a good night. All partied out, I was very tired, and longed for my bed. It wasn't long after I turned off the lights that I just sort of flopped on my bed and slept immediately.
Something slimy touched my hand. On reaction, I immediately clutched it, and shook firmly.
"You're late, Isaac."
"Sorry, Azazel. I got caught up in some... business."
Business didn't really cut it, but I was willing to lie this time. Azazel grunted and she climbed out from under the bed before turning the lights on. Her visage was difficult to comprehend, as expected, but to me, she took the form of an amorphous slime creature, dripping yet strangely clean.
The interview had now begun. Rather than ask me questions about myself, she vomited out some documents for me to go over. It was all employee reports — fabricated, of course — and I was to review their performance and recommend promotions stern talking-tos.
It took a span of 30 minutes to fill them all out. I felt Azazel's gaze on my back, but I didn't feel threatened. It was in the contract that we were not to harm each other. Demons needed human employees to handle things they couldn't, and paperwork was one of them.
I handed the documents back to Azazel, who promptly ate them. "We'll contact you in two weeks!" she stated, with a clearly fake cheer, before slithering under my bed and disappearing.
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jbvwiwm
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jbvvnqn
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[WP] First contact is established between aliens and humanity. And it turns out that all other intelligent species are, for lack of a better term, Kaiju. Being at the bare minimum over 300 meters in height and having a variety of supernatural abilities on top of advanced technology.
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"Oh, hello! I'm Mord'ekhor Ma'vellar. I'll be representing the Galactic consortium. We are reviewing your application to join and establish trade relations. We thought we will have a short meeting before finalize our trade agreement." Mord said, peering over the data-slate. The human delegation's shuttle had landed on the far left corner of his desk 30 minutes before, and had just finished setting up their table and chairs under his reading lamp.
There were five of them. The data-slate's camera picked up their individual images and enhanced them on to his screen so that he could get a better look at them. For a direct inspection he will have to get really close, and he had a feeling they would be uncomfortable with that level of proximity. Even now, the data slate showed signs of sever anxiety upon all but one of them. The one missing any stress-response was, of course an Android.
"Am I too loud? I was told I need to keep my voice at whisper-levels, or risk causing you ear-damage."
"It's okay. You're current volume is perfect" said one of the humans, waving a hand at Mord.
"Hello! I'm Alex" The human said. The data slate showed this human's designation as 'NASA - Advisory Diplomat'.
"And this is Mary, Dean, Joan, and MK-X40" He introduced everyone seated around the table, and in turn each member of the Human delegation waved at Mord.
"Hi everyone! how was the flight here?" Mord inquired warmly.
"The subspace travel was pretty comfortable- more than we anticipated to be honest. We thought translating into real-space was going to be a lot more complicated than it turned out to be. Your Science Department's help was invaluable!" Said the human Alex introduced as Joan. This human had copper-red hair tied up in a bun and a much higher pitch of voice than Alex. Mord assumed this was a female human, based on the briefing material he received from the Science Dept. earlier that week.
"Good to hear that" Mord said. Then he paused, considering how to phrase his next question.
"Do you, um... mind if I take a closer look? It's just that, I never imagined a sentient, sapient, space-faring race could be so tiny!"
The humans looked at each other, then all four humans looked at the android, which had a human form, but no facial features. It turned towards Mord in its seat, paused for a couple moments, then turned back to its human companions and gave a curt nod. Mord had the impression that he just got scanned for signs of ill-intent, and was cleared. Of course, Mord himself knew he meant no harm to the tiny little things. They were truly so tiny, two of them could easily walk up one of his nostrils and he could still breath through that nostril comfortably.
"Sure Mr.Ma'vellar, if that will help you acclimate to us, we see no reason to object" Alex, the human, said.
"Thanks Alex, you can address me as Mord. No need for such formalities. After all, you are in the study room at my home, not my office in the Consortium HQ." Mord knew it was important to be as friendly as he can be to put the humans at ease, considering the massive size disparity between him and them.
Mord slowly rolled his chair forward and the brought his face down to the level of the tabletop. The Humans were about half a foot away from where his eyes were. He turned his head down so that his nose was under the table and not pointed at the humans, to prevent them from being blown away by his out-breath.
He couldn't believe how tiny they were -about the size of ants. Speaking of, he had to do a thorough cleaning of his study to make sure no ants, roaches, or any other critters were there in the whole room before he cleared the human shuttle safe for landing. At first he thought they will be landing on the shuttle-pad in his backyard. But then when he realized he had massively underestimated how truly small the Human delegation was, he had to change plans on the fly. He opened a window to the study, made sure the kids were locked in their play-room, got the wife to lock up the guardian beasts in their basement, and then did a quick but thorough clan up of the study -all in the span of about 30 mins. Then the delegation directly flew in through the window like one of the kids' toys, landed on his table, and now they're sitting right in front of him. The whole experience was surreal.
Mord examined them closely. Their skin was smooth. No scales, no horns, no wings. They had hair on top of their heads, which he thought was a weird place to grow hair. They had no tail either, which was fascinating. He wondered how they could walk without losing balance. Maybe he can ask them after the meeting.
Mord pulled away from the close-examination slowly, and exclaimed in a whisper "Boy you guys are tiny! how you keep yourself from being blown away in the wind, I have no idea! I guess we should get to business now then? The Consortium is interested in turning your Solar system's first planet -Mercury, you call it, right? into a sort of tourist destination. We will open up spa's, sunning saloons, resorts etc. In return, you can have access to our geo-engineering technology. We understand you are having some difficulty with terraforming the fourth planet. We are confident we can help you resolve those issues."
The Humans discussed this among themselves briefly. It sounded like they had no objections to this proposal.
"Oh one more thing" Mord interjected, and they all turned towards him.
"I was wondering... If you will be willing to supply genetic samples of the plant from which you create that delicious drink -Khofey you call it? yes! I was one of the 3 people who got to sample it when your planet sent goods and materials for trade-consideration. All three of us were completely taken by it. And kind of miffed there wasn't enough to go around for everyone at the HQ. I barely got a full cup and I was wired for hours! I got more work done that day than the whole week prior. We are confident we can gene-engineer to scale up that plant to our level in size so that it is easier to cultivate over here."
"It's called 'Coffee'" Alex said. "And yes, sure, we can supply you samples. The sample shipment we sent had enough coffee to serve an entire country of humans for a year, if you could only make enough to serve just 3 of you, to be honest, we don't think we can trade our yield of it directly with you any ways. It's best if you take the sample and modify it to fit your cultivation methods and scale."
Mord was delighted. He could already imagine starting a work day with a warm, delicious cup of coffee.
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Among the council it was decided that for once we were to reveal ourselves to the Humans. We had given them glimpses, through varying forms of fiction, letting them know what we existed. Humans with supernatural abilities, cybernetics and mechanics, infinite realities, the such. The council was composed of three of us, each one designated to their own particular purpose, with each freedom to do as we please. I, myself, am the second of the three, and while the others are static in appearance, I am able to take whatever form I wish, which is why I was left in charge of transmuting traces of our existences to the Humans, as Humans, we found, can’t take everything all at once, but need it revealed to them in small portions. They are simple like that indeed.
We decided not to reveal ourselves to the world at large, but to a boy, no less than 11 years old, living in Kentucky. His name was Robin. It was night time, and he had decided to stay up that night to read, against his parents commands. He was hiding underneath the covers, when we decided to illuminate his room with a light so bright, his blankets became translucent and he could see right through. We knew this would cause anyone a lot of commotion, so in my infinite ability, I made sure that no one else could see the light, only Robin. And I made sure no one could enter the room. He looked up from his book and stared at us.
“Don’t be afraid,” I said.
He took a deep breath and then fainted, out of shock. Usually what happens when we reveal ourselves. We walk ourselves over to him, in the form of three humans. It wasn’t time to reveal our true forms just yet. That would come tomorrow. And we came to tell Robin of what was to come.
“Robin,” I said. “Be healed! Look up! Rise!”
With that Robin opened his eyes and sat up on his bed. He looked at us with wonder.
“Who are you?” he asked. “Why have you come.”
“We have come to tell you of the future, so you shall know what is to come, so you can tell the people you love, and they could tell the people the love, that if they believe you, they will be spared. If they do not, they won’t be spared. You are but a child, but we are granting you the wisdom and peace to lead you through this, for this is a tough assignment, but one that we will help you get through. And while you may ask us, Robin, why we are doing what we are doing, we are here to tell that we are doing what we are doing because it’s necessary, and first contact must be made between us and the Humans. So we want you to turn on the TV tomorrow night, as we will be transporting ourselves to the Heart of America and will surround America in our true forms. And we will see how they react. We can tell you that at first, it does not bode well for you Humans. But with time, things will get easier. We in no way want to be worshipped. We just need your assistance. And we can only accept the assistance of those who’s testimony is pure and true, which is you. We will be with you. We will keep you sane.”
With that, I remove the light, and before Robin can say anything, I wisk us away. We still keep observing him in our minds, and we see him close his book, and eventually, with our assistance, fall asleep.
The next day we do exactly as we say. I appear in the form of a giant eagle, while the others appear as a giant bear, and giant Bull, respectively. We give our speech to the world, telling them we will return in 50 years. We tell them to listen to Robin from Kentucky, who is only 11 years old. We tell them we can do as we please. And in the sight of the world, I teleport the moon into my mouth, showing them just a portion of my power. I put it back, and with that, we complete our first contact. I disappear us from plain sight.
All the while we were watching Robin in our minds. We saw his parents watch, and then believe him. And then we see him spread the news all across the world. One day we will return. Then will be second contact. Then we will return as one. What a glorious day that will be.
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jf6lcpt
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jf6auor
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[WP] "Find those with ancient lights in eyes." were your parent's last words, which you never took seriously. Years later, you give some food to a blind beggar sitting outside a train station. He looks up to you and smiles in gratitude. Jet black eyes, with twinkling lights like stars in night sky.
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I stumbled backwards. My hands sliding on the soft, damp mud of the sidewalk. My gaze never broke. Those eyes. Looking into them felt like looking down from the edge of a cliff. The same time the sensation of falling while sleeping. I crawled forward towards the old man as people shuffled past. Not one person took notice. Heart pounding, stomach sinking I moved up to the man.
"Who are you?" I stammered. "What are you?" I still remember that day. Their last day before the accident. I would have given anything to have them back.
The old man never moved. He stared at me. A deep stare, as if he was looking into my soul. "I remember you." the old man said. "Oh yes, that was one of my better days."
"I have never seen you before, we have never met." I managed to say. "That is right, it was more that you are familiar to me." said the man.
"I am sorry about your suit. I didn't mean to startle you, but you never know when these days will come." What did the old man mean by that? Was this all that my parents meant, that this would be some crazy guy on the street? Why was this so important to them?
"Years ago... My parents... They said I should look for you."
"Well not me, but us."
"What do you mean us?" I asked.
"Well we don't have a name, but you may think of us as shepherds. Your parents, like many others, helped our kind. They wanted to make things better."
"How did they do that?" I asked.
The old man looked to the ground on his left and patted it twice with his hand. "You have two choices." he said. "You can sit beside me and I will tell you a story, or you may stand up, dust yourself off, and be on your way." "Either could make no difference, or all the difference for this world."
So no pressure. I thought. I looked at the man, the spot next to him, up to the street where I was walking. I was already covered in mud so there was no chance I would get the job anyway. I thought about my parents faces. The last day I saw them. They seemed so calm, but I could tell there was something off. I thought it was adult things. Even they had bad days sometimes. I moved to my right and curled my knees up to my chest. The old man to my right.
"Ok." I said. "I want to hear your story."
The old man continued looking forward for a moment, and then put his head down. "Do you ever wonder what happens when you sleep?"
What an odd question. But I could say it is line with how this day is going. "Our body rests." I said.
"That is true. And it lets your soul wander. Every morning you wake up the person you were the day before." said the man. "We do not."
"Every night we go to sleep the person we woke as, and every morning we wake up someone else. Somewhere else."
I cocked my head to the side. This is getting strange.
"A king one day. A beggar the next." We never know. "Some days we stop a kingdom from going to war, saving thousands. Others we can show one person a single kindness."
This man is actually crazy. My parents were crazy. Now I must be crazy. None of this is possible. This must be a disease, mental illness, maybe I am dreaming, or I died and this is my afterlife.
As if he could sense my unease and disbelief, he turned and looked into my eyes. Those eyes, his eyes, they were real. That gaze made my mind go blank. It was as if he could look my worries away.
"Why my parents? What did they have to do with you?". I asked.
"They were good people. Their souls were kind. And they chose you." said the man.
"Now you face the same choice they did."
What choice? What could this man... this thing want with me? "What choice?" I said.
"Would you give up your life for the chance to save others?" proposed the old man.
I thought about it. Was my life going so great? But it is my life. I have control of it. It is mine from the start to the very end. I can make it what I choose.
I stood up after deliberating for several more minutes. I wiped a tear from my left eye. I looked into his eyes one last time. If he could even see, he saw the same night sky as me.
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"Dad! Dad!" called my young son. "you didn't tell us a story! How can we sleep without being told a story?"
I chuckled. As I returned to my children's room, I decided that it was time to tell them about the family legacy and hence, decided to tell them my story.
"Alright kiddos, story time it is." Amidst my children's cheering, I started, "It was a long, long time ago. The time when you grandparents died. It all happened so quickly that everything is a blur. A massive fire spread in the market where Grandpa was selling his wares. Dad, bless his soul, was never a fast walker, and was unfortunately crushed under the rubble of his shop which was destroyed by the fire. Grandma too, fell severely ill, and was fighting for her life. But when she heard news about Grandpa's death, she lost her will to live. Grandma told me, 'Alexis. Its time. Its time you know the family legacy! But you must find it for your own. Promise me, Alex, that you will try to find those with ancient lights in eyes.' before beginning her journey into the underworld. I was confused? Ancient light in eyes? When did my mother become a mystic? And what family legacy? We were but a bunch of traders, living in Thessaloniki since the times of old. But I did not think much of it.
I was taken in by my aunt and her husband. As time went on, the family business boomed. A series of good trade deals and good produce made us rich overnight. As time went on and I became older I soon forgot my mother's saying. I lived in blissful ignorance until that fateful day. It was a rainy Wednesd-"
"Daaad!" my other son interrupted, "I want to listen to a fairy tale. Dragons and castles and knights in shining armor, not your life story. And besides, what is this family legacy?"
"I'm getting to it. If you want to know the family legacy, you must not interrupt me anymore! Anyway, it was a rainy Wednesday afternoon. I was coming back from the library. While passing by the rail station, I saw an old man, a blind beggar, asking for food. None were paying any heed to his request, instead going their own ways. My heart went out for him and so, I gave him the bagels I had just got from the cafe across the station. 'Here. Take these. No one deserves to be hungry.' He accepted it with trembling hands and said 'Thank you, kind stranger. Your actions have truly saved my life.' As he looked up to me and smiled in gratitude, I gasped. He had the most beautiful eyes! Jet black with twinkling lights of different colors, just like the stars in the night sky. My mother's words came back to me. I stammered 'y-y-you! You are one with ancient lights in eyes!'
The blind stranger chuckled, 'Ahh, Alexis. As straightforward as your mother and as benevolent as your name. Yes child. I am the one with ancient lights in eyes.'
'Forgive my manners, I must introduce myself. I am Hades, god of Death, the Undead and Riches and king of the underworld. And before you ask, yes, the Greek myths and monsters are real. Olympus exists, and so does everything else.'
I was both in awe of the fact that Greek mythology was real and also extremely wary of this man who called himself the god of the underworld. I asked him to prove his divinity. In response, he summoned a heap of gold right in front of my eyes! I could not formulate a response, such was my astonishment.
He told me, 'Child, you have the blood of Olympus flowing through your veins. Only those possessing divine blood can look at us gods disguised in mortal form and see our true eyes, or as your mother put it, the eyes with ancient lights.'
I was in disbelief. My entire life of 16 years was a lie! I grew up as a simple boy, having a normal life right until that day when my entire life was turned upside down.
It then hit me that Hades knew my mother's last words, something only I was privy to. I asked him how he knew my mother's last words and forbade him from reading my mind.
Hades looked contemplative, as if he was half-considering smiting me for my impertinence. However that contemplation soon turned into regret as he lamented, 'Your mother...was a queen among woman. How a mortal possessed such ethereal beauty was a mystery only the Moirai know the answer to. It is a shame that she had to pass into my realm at such an age. It is my fault in the entirety. I could not protect her, I could not protect sweet Helena.'
'You must be confused', he continued. I nodded in affirmation as he said 'Your mother must have had her own reasons as to not tell you. Alex, I knew your mother well. Too well, in fact, more that what us gods are allowed to. I was attracted to her on first sight. Soon attraction turned to adoration, which turned to passion, which lead to your birth. To put it frankly, Alexis, I am your father.'
I was in a state of shock. I was in disbelief, anger and sadness. My mind was a swirling maelstrom of emotions. But yet, the first thing which came out of my mouth was, unfortunately, 'Was that a Star Wars reference?'
Hades laughed heartily. 'It seems you inherited your mother's humor, ey son? I just wanted to apologize for not being there for you or saving your mother from death. Ananke's Dictates prohibited me from doing so, lest you are killed. In fact, I was the one who suggested that she marry your step-father, so that she could provide you with a stable and loving home. Come with me son. I need to show you something.'
I followed him to an abandoned warehouse. He used his bident to summon a spirit from the underworld. 'Mom!' I cried, as I saw the face of whom he had summoned. I rushed and tried crushing her in a hug (where, I embarrassingly passed through her and fell flat on my face). I wept and let out all the anguish I felt due to her death, blubbering apologies. 'Shush dear. Its fine. Everyone must pass on at some point. It seems my time had come. I am now in Elysium, with your step-father, and am finally at piece. My work on Gaia was complete and hence I left her. But yours isn't, Alex. You have many battles to fight and many challenges to overcome. Go with your father, he will guide you.' Mom said. 'But mom', I whined, 'How will I be able to see you again?' 'Your father is the king of the underworld; you can visit me anytime' she said.
Finally assured, I followed my father as he made a portal to the underworld." I paused to see that my kids had fallen fast asleep. I chuckled and switched off the lamp in the room. As I looked out of their window, I saw a screeching owl hooting, smiling at me.
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jnredh4
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jnrbnnz
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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.
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Giving humanity access to warp technology in exchange for peace might have been the council's greatest dilemma at the time, but later letting them use it unrestricted in the face of the Great Enemy was the rash decision that changed everything forever. Their capacity for both innovation and cruelty was virtually unrivaled across the galaxy, and those few that could found themselves gleeful co-contributors to the most fantastical and diabolical creations ever yet seen.
In the tens of terra cycles since the Treaty, humanity had refined warp technology beyond the limits of what any race thought possible. Not only was it miniaturized for use on their scale, it was also more precise, more responsive, and somehow even faster than the most cutting edge developments elsewhere in the galaxy.
And it was incorporated into every aspect of their lives. Transportation, communication, agriculture, security, health, finance, everywhere one could look (and in many more places that one couldn't) there was a warp drive of some sort to be found. Likely several, working in conjunction.
But the greatest implements were found in their fleets. The harsh, geometrical shapes of most human vessels made no attempt to conceal their functions, and there were so many functions. Vessels that focused raw star power into beams that could pierce through rock and hull. Vessels that bent space-time to form both shields and shrouds. Vessels that could collapse and create local reality at will.
The worst part of it all was that these tools were no longer isolated developments. The humans were bound by the Treaty to share (most of) their creations with the galactic community, and they found fast friends with races both kind and cruel. New, unfathomable power spread across the stars and there was nothing the old seats of the council could do about it. Even if they wanted to.
The Great Enemy eventually met their demise, but so too did the peaceful ways of the past. Bold upstarts and hardened veterans alike stepped forth into a galaxy that was fresh, exciting, and dangerous once more.
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One of the last stories mama told me before I was sold to the Ammius Family was that of the Death Knell. She told me that even though we humans were small, weak-minded, and fragile compared to the rest of the members of the Galactic Committee, we knew the sound of our Death Knell from birth. And once you heard it, there was very little to do except heed the call.
*"You can run and hide and fight all you want,"* She'd told me that night, her gray eyes heavy and dark, *"But it's only a matter of time before it comes to collect you."*
*"What does it sound like, Mama?"* I'd asked, not realizing it would be the last words uttered with any semblance of innocence, *"And why can't anybody else hear it?"*
Her mama had told her stories about the planet Earth, where humans had once lived before the Families Ammius and Gaiserc had taken over and secured humans as pawns for their war. Her mama told her about buildings with towers where the Death Knells slept, waiting in the lofty shadows for the next victim to summon with their metal tongues.
It used to bother me that I could not remember her answer to my last question. I'd spend my hours of training searching for her response, each distant echo of her words becoming another scar on my skin, another crack in my bones. I'd study the scars as a Gaisercish Shaman might study the bone broth of a freshly sacrificed Munsila, following each discolored line with my eyes until it became too dark to see, then tracing my fingers up and down my skin until I was too tired to keep searching for that illusive pattern I knew was there somewhere. Somewhere between my patchwork skin and aching muscles.
And sometimes when I slept, I was falling endlessly from a great tower to the tune of a strange and terrible symphony of sounds I could never remember when I awoke, not for love nor money. If any of the other humans that trained with me knew about the Death Knell or had dreams similar to mine, they never spoke of it.
But I grew up. And with that, the story of the Death Knells and towers became one more thing I couldn't afford to lose sleep or concentration over. Not with the war brewing. The Death Knell would come for me eventually, and until then I needed to focus on the present. The here and now.
The back door to the dorms slowly creaking open.
Delicately placed footprints that mimicked a building sighing in the cool night's breeze after a long, hot day.
There was no breeze tonight.
Words mumbled under the influence of sleep, followed by the shuffle of blankets as one stirs.
There is little that can fully muffle someone's last breath, wet and raspy as they choke on their own blood.
The pitter-patter of rain, not uncommon for this time of year.
It doesn't rain indoors.
Closer and closer the sighing footsteps came, each pause filled with the dying gasp of a fellow trainee. Tighter and tighter I gripped my own knife hidden under my pillow, my blood pounding like war drums in my head. Do I scream? How many are left before the assassin reaches me? Can I take them in a fight, or will I succumb to a similar fate? Does it matter? Is this all my life has come to? Is my Death Knell the dying breaths of those before me simply because I'm the furthest away?
My Death Knell...
No. This is not my Death Knell. This *will not* be my Death Knell.
All at once, my scattered thoughts settle and a calm fills me even as the sighing footsteps stop at my bed.
*This is not my Death Knell.*
A gloved hand wraps around my face over my mouth, then tilts my head up to expose my neck.
*I will not die tonight. This call does not beckon to me.*
The assassin freezes when they see my eyes open, and shock turns to excruciating when I jam my knife into the inside of their upper thigh. He howls and drops his knife, falling to the floor in a rapidly growing puddle of his life blood. I take his knife, the hilt warm and slightly sticky with blood, and thank whoever's listening that the blade did little more than graze my collarbone.
The assassin is dead in the time it took me to test the weight of his dagger against my smaller knife, tuck said smaller knife back into it's sheath at my thigh, and then swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand up.
When I reach the front door, which swings silently open, I cake my feet in the dust and sand so I won't trail bloody footprints when I make my way to each dorm.
You can run and hide and fight, but when the Death Knell is calling it's only a matter of time before it collects you.
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jadxa1b
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jacyum6
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[WP] "One drip of this poison is enough to kill a whale." The scientist points towards a table, but the beaker isn't there. Instead a silly coffee cup shaped like a beaker sits. You lower the not coffee cup from your mouth. Tastes like lemon-lime.
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"Wait, it what?"
That I had made an embarrassing mistake nearly went without saying. That the scientists washed their dishes with the lab equipment, this mistake *couldn't* go without saying, so I said it:
"I told you that your unsafe lab practices would be the death of me, Mike."
Mike and I had been good friends for ages, and I knew that he must feel horrible, so it was nice to be able to get him to chuckle, as teary-eyed as he was getting.
"You son of a bitch, you just had to get one more joke in, didn't you?" He let out an odd noise that sounded like a sigh trying to hold back a sob. "How do you feel, Bill? Is there any pain?"
"No," I lied. I was getting a splitting headache, and the ringing in my ears alone was almost painful. There was another feeling, an odd not-quite-lightheadedness, not-quite-dizziness that I couldn't quite put a finger on...it wasn't painful, but it felt like I was walking in a deep fog. Everything felt heavy. I needed a nap. But, in spite of everything, my curiosity, which was apparently enough to kill a whale, rather than a cat, compelled me to ask.
"So, how does this poison work, again?"
Maybe it would be good, for Mike, to focus on the science, for a moment, instead of his dying friend. If I could do that much, maybe it would be worth it.
He pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. "So, we know that whales' brains sleep one half at a time, right? While we were researching cetacean intelligence, trying to unlock the potential of their brains, we discovered that this compound had the unfortunate side effect of synching up both halves of their brains. When exposed, they would fall asleep -- completely -- and drown. It only took one drop, no matter which species. It..."
I didn't hear the rest of his explanation, as everything faded away.
---
I woke up a short time later, on a stretcher in the back of an ambulance. It was a good thing that we were headed to the hospital, as I think I gave the poor paramedic a heart attack. I suppose I should be grateful he didn't try to bash my brains out.
Mike met us at the hospital, absolutely beside himself in relief. Neither of us were the hugging sort, but this felt like one of those situations where an exception could be made.
"I...I don't understand it. Don't take this the wrong way, Bill, but why are you alive?"
It was my turn to laugh. It felt great, and I felt more refreshed, more alive than I had in years. I supposed that dying might do that to a fellow, or maybe just the deepest, soundest sleep I had experienced in years. "I don't think that poison works the same way for humans, since both halves of our brains normally sleep at the same time. Though, I guess it is a good thing I wasn't in a pool."
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Authors note: I tried something different, a bit darker, hope you like it!
​
​
*Three days ago - The oceanic life research facility (OLRF) - Mariana Trench division, Indonesia.*
“Fascinating,” Amelia said.
“What’s that?” Daniel asked sipping his coffee, his earbuds in his ears like always.
“I said,” Amelia raised her voice. “Fascinating!”
“What’s fascinating?” Daniel asked taking another sip of his coffee.
“The liquid that new species of fish produces, the one we discovered last month,” Amelia said with annoyance. “One single drop of the liquid can kill a whale… What are you even doing now?”
“Drinking my coffee, with milk finally,” He answered.
“What milk, no one bought milk once again,” Amelia said.
“What was this then?” Daniel asked shaking the empty beaker.
Amelia froze instantly, could it be? No one could be that stupid to pick a beaker with an unknown liquid from the laboratory table, right? She thought to herself. Then again Daniel was, well Daniel the IT guy, he never really cared much about anything, living life on reserve power.
“Where did you find it?” Amelia rushed towards him.
“Here,” He pointed to the table where liquid from the fish stood minutes ago. “It tastes kinda funny though. Which kind is this, don’t tell me they mike out of limes now?”
“You idiot!” Amelia yelled.
“What?”
“You drank the poison?” Amelia frantically looked around the lab, hoping she was wrong.
“What? WHAT?” Daniel yelled the information only hiding him now. “No I took the white liquid from here, the milk.”
“That is the poison,” Amelia said. “It was white, like milk yes, but what the hell Daniel, do you even use your brain?”
“Oh my God, Oh my God, what do I do now?” He started pacing around the lab.
Amelia took a deep breath, trying to stay calm despite the panic rising within her. "There's nothing we can do now," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You should have been dead by now."
"What do you mean, dead?" Daniel asked, his face going pale. "Amelia, please tell me you're joking."
"I wish I were," Amelia said. "That liquid is highly toxic, and there's no known antidote. Well, we have just discovered it."
Daniel sank into a chair, his hands trembling. "So, what's going to happen to me?" he asked, his voice barely audible.
"Maybe it's not toxic to humans," Amelia said, her voice rising with hope. "Let's get you to the medical bay and see what we can do."
She helped Daniel to his feet, and they rushed out of the lab and down the long corridor toward the medical bay. Amelia was in a state of panic, her mind racing with all the possible outcomes. What if the poison really was lethal to humans? What if there was no cure, no way to save Daniel's life? Was she to blame? Was him?
As they reached the medical bay, the door slid open, and they were greeted by the medical team on duty. Amelia explained the situation to the doctor in charge, who immediately started examining Daniel.
"What do you say he drank, exactly?" the doctor asked.
“New poison from the new fish we discovered at the bottom of Mariana Trench,” Amelia asked. “It’s highly toxic, he should have been dead already.”
Doctor just nodded and continued to examine him. “He looks just fine, his vitals are up a little bit, but that could be from the panic. Let’s leave him here overnight and we will monitor him.” The doctor said.
Amelia nodded and said goodbye to Daniel leaving for her lab, hoping he would be ok.
*Two days ago - The oceanic life research facility (OLRF) - Mariana Trench division, Indonesia.*
\> 08:30 AM: SOS signal towards the mainland.
\> 08:36 AM: SOS signal towards the mainland.
\> 08:38 AM: All contact was lost with The oceanic life research facility.
*One day ago - The oceanic life research facility (OLRF) - Mariana Trench division, Indonesia.*
\> Still no contact with the OLRF
\> Rescue teams deployed to the OLRF location, one day to arrive.
*Present day - The oceanic life research facility (OLRF) - Mariana Trench division, Indonesia*.
“What do you think happened, Chief?” Henry asked his commander, Norris.
“No idea, maybe the power is just out?” He said.
“Don’t they have like a gazillion backup generators?” He asked.
“I don’t, I guess we will see in a few minutes,” Norris answered and turned towards the side of the chopper, looking out of the window.
As choppers drew closer they could finally see the OLRF in the middle of the thick forest. Seeing it this up close, the facility completely dark, a feeling of unease came over Henry, something felt way off. As they came closer and closer, they could notice that the windows on the second floor were broken and the front door of the facility was busted. Looking closer Henry saw what looked like a white lab coat in front of the building, and something red around it. No, it was a body in the coat, a body missing its limps laying in a pool of its own blood.
​
Like the story? Check out my sub for more r/LukasWrites
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j3ku1cy
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j3knu32
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[WP] You're a prisoner in a fantasy world. After a week in jail for (YOUR CHOICE), your true punishment has come. Death by the Dragon's flame. One by one, you watch men be scorched. It is finally your turn. The dragon reaches its head down, but instead of death, you get a warm lick on the forehead.
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I was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. As far as I'm concerned, survival was the opportunist's territory. But my execution for grand theft of a baron's wine collection getting derailed by the dragon who would do the deed deciding to kiss me? That warranted a bit of confusion at minimum.
As I stared at the titanic lizard, its wings the color of smoke and its horns sharpened to a point, I began to notice something familiar about him. It wasn't until he crouched down and wiggled his tail did it hit me. All of a sudden, memories came flooding back: the forest during monsoon season, the little dragon crying on the ground, the year I spent nursing him back to health. I placed a hand on his snout and said unsteadily, "Chili Pepper?!"
The dragon nuzzled me and happily exclaimed, "Mama!"
I couldn't stop myself from planting kisses all over Chili Pepper's snout and muzzle. "Oh, my sweet boy! I never thought I'd see you again! Oh, you've gotten so big, look at you! Come here, let me kiss you some more!"
Chili Pepper purred and savored every ounce of my affection like the big kitten he was on the inside. Once I had gotten my fill of showering him with love and the guards started to swarm the execution field, I hopped on Chili Pepper's back and said, "Come on, boy, let's get outta here!"
With a happy roar, Chili Pepper took off into the air, narrowly dodging arrows, spears, and the like. I gently stroked the side of his face and said, "Just keep going where I direct you! We'll be home in no time!"
Chili Pepper happily roared, "Home! Mama!"
I rested my head on top of his and softly said, "Yeah, sweetie. Home with mama."
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My name is Brandt Allthorn, and I am about to die.
My people had lived in peace for as long as anyone could remember. Sure, different clans had their spats now and again, but we were a peaceful people. We never wanted to hurt anyone, until *they* came. The Holy Kingdom of Aldwilda. They worship their goddess Matrona, which I’ve been told means ‘mother’ in their old tongue, believing her to be the one true source of creation and divine salvation. They see her as the mother of all that is; the one true aspect that ties all the world together. In fact, her most common byname is ‘The All Mother’. ‘How do you know all of this?’, you may ask. Well, only a few weeks after we turned their missionaries away, they declared war on us. They called it a holy war, they said that they were doing us a favor by saving our souls. That was before my time, though, and I am the last of my family to hold true to our traditions. Many, including my family, were forcefully converted. Others, like me, were sent to our deaths when for the crime of heresy when it was discovered that we were not true believers.
And so, here I stand, on the precipice of death. My people have a tradition of worshiping dragons, and so I find it a great irony that I will soon meet my end by one’s flames. I look to my soon-to-be-killer, and I see only sadness and fear in his eyes. I can see the sores where his chains are, he had likely gone many months without the least respite from them. I see the numerous scars that mar his scales, he has been forced to do my captor’s bidding at pain of horrific torture. I can not imagine the torment that this noble being had endured, if I could have one last wish, it would be to free him and to see him fly away into the distance, but I don’t have that wish. I am a dead man walking, and I think I have come to peace with that.
A guard unhooks me from the line of prisoners and shoves me forward to meet my doom. I hear the dragon’s handler crack their whip and I brace for the flames, my last regret is that I would die before my father. He always said that the worst fate a parent could face would be to outlive their child. I hope that he stays safe. He, my mother, and both of my siblings chose to convert, so they should be relatively secure for now. However, the flames do not come. Instead, I feel something wet my cheek, and then my the chain binding my shackles to one another are broken. I look to see that the dragon has bowed before me, and the pieces all fall into place, though I can scarcely believe it to be so. When a dragon, noblest of all beings, licks one’s face and bows before them, that means that they have been chosen as a Rider.
I dash past the dragon, my new partner, to his tormentor, who is beginning to strike their whip at my dragon. I catch the whip in my hand, the pain nothing compared to what my partner has gone through at it’s steel tip. I yank the whip out of the handler’s grasp, throwing it to the side, before leaping for the keys hooked at their waist. I feel them in my hand, the cold steel soothing to my palm, on which a bruise has already began to form. I then make my way quickly back to my dragon, barreling over his tormentor and knocking them out on the cold stone floor. I unlock the shackles that have so long bound him, as the rest of the cavernous room looks on in shock. The other guardsmen spring into action, drawing their swords and shouting at me to get on my knees, but it is too late.
I clumsy clamber onto my partner’s back, he is so thin that his spine sticks out such that I worry I may hurt him if he were to bear my weight. Sensing my hesitation, he gives me a nod and snort of ascension, and with that we take off. After only a week of imprisonment, the sensation of the wind whipping through my matted hair nothing short of euphoric. I can not imagine how it must feel for my partner, who had not seen the light of day in at least a decade. We fly together into the sunset, and though we dodge arrows and flung stones all the way, we are truly free.
r/CookieJarOfChaos
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lsebzu7
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lsdvek8
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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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Black Briar, a special members only club. Villainy is our requirement and only the ones with some sense of class or restraint. Serial killers and psychos are often cut down by members of the Black Briar Club for just how bad it goes.
Today there was a party and everyone was enjoying it. General Rampage took just robbed the federal reserve and sent his long time rival Angel Wing to the hospital with a broken wing, missing foot and 3rd degree burns all over. It's all over the news that her healing factor will restore her by tomorrow. Quite a shame really, these heroes heal too fast.
I think Doctor Speed is celebrating the theft of the Hope Diamond too. I see him holding it up from time to time. Of course a few of the slick thieves have already tried to steal it from him, but no one gets away from someone who perceives and thinks in nanoseconds. At least they buy him a round for the joke.
I even see a few noob villains nursing a drink while listening to the old generation on how things are done. Me? I'm Cyber King, Master of robots and technology. Soon my robot minions will act, but for now it's a day to relax. Or... so I thought.
The doors open and suddenly the android DJ I loaned to the club sends me a class 5 emergency and stops the music. The sudden silence that filled the room was chilling. Standing in the doorway was Diamond Moon, a teenage magical girl known the club over as Little Miss Cotton Candy cause that's what she was to everyone. Bubbly, sweet and even to villains caring. A few turned antihero or even dark hero because of her. Heck, even I liked her.
"Who did it?" Her voice was not Bubbly as we all expected, but dark and full of the most blood thirsty rage. She shook down to her core and her wand was pulsing with barely restrained power. No one dared budge, and many seemed confused. "Who did it!?!" She repeated in a near screech of rage.
"Did what?" I asked as I stood up slowly and held my hands up. With a flick of my wrist my power gauntlets hissed and fell to the floor leaving me unarmed. "I won't resist, but you need to be more clear on what."
"Who... who..." She shook all over as tears ran down her face and I took a few steps forward.
"Whisper to me if you need too." I said with a soft tone as I stepped over to her. The few words that hit my ear was enough to make my blood boil. "Villains of the Black Briar Club! Somebody did the unforgivable to Diamond Moon with their powers. Let's make sure she doesn't need to bloody her hands with this, defiler." A few with super hearing where already looking ready to kill as my robot DJ cued up "For Whom the Bell Tolls."
Several of the female villains moved to offer support for the magical girl, as an alert pinged of somebody running out the emergency exit.
The Black Briar Club doesn't tolerate those kinds of monsters.
|
There was a group of men laughing wildly from a table in the back corner of the bar, filling the room with their raucous noise. I found their outbursts bothersome, but I did not say anything and continued my drink.
In that year, our small town was a dusty crossroads for a few profitable trade routes, so we got all kinds of traffic from wagon trains, merchants, and outlaws. We knew their type well, and we made sure to keep clear of their wakes, but I really needed that drink that night. Only a few other patrons remained in the bar; most had gotten up to leave when the men arrived, and even the bartender was making himself scarce, only popping up to serve the group of men and to glance at the bar to make sure no one was stealing alcohol.
In their corner of the bar, the group of men were celebrating their most recent escapade from what I could gather. One of them had jumped up on the table and was pantomiming his particular heroic acts. He then began making a crude motion with his hips, which I’m sure I don’t need to tell you was in rather poor taste. One of them quipped on his antics, and an uproar of laughter came from the group. As they laughed, I heard the bar door open with a slam and they slowly fell silent.
I turned to see the silhouette of a man at the entrance to the bar. As he staggered forward, I realized recognized him. He was another regular of the establishment, like myself, and I had conversed with him on many an occasion, but I did not know him well. He had a farm and a family somewhere on the outskirts of town. His name was Amos something - I can’t really recall. He was a joyous kidder, especially when drunk, and something about whiskey made him jabber on about his family even when no one was listening. But I could tell from his stance that something had changed.
He called out with a quivering, animalistic voice, somewhere between tears and violence, “WHO DID IT?”
Silence rang out through the bar. Everyone had turned their heads to face the man at the door. As my eyes adjusted to the setting sun, I could make out burns and scrapes past his sooty, ragged clothes. A chair scraped, and one of group stepped toward the man.
“Did what?” he said sarcastically with a mocking open grin.
Amos something didn’t respond; he only looked at the man. The man reacted, wiping the look from his face and pulling out a gun which he put straight up against Amos’s head. He stared intensely into Amos’s eyes, and then burst out into laughter, turning back to face his buddies. Amos grabbed the gun, twisted it out of his hand, and shot him dead before anyone could react.
I ducked for my table as the rest of the men jumped to their feet and drew their revolvers. I could see Amos swoop under a table and topple it to its side as if it were kindling to avoid their fire. I couldn’t see the men, but I could hear their gunfire and see the bullets penetrate Amos’s cover. One of the bullets went straight through the table into Amos’s arm and he shrieked with pain. Then, to my shock, he picked up the with one arm table and charged at the men, using as a battering ram. I heard the table connect and the men yell out, but I couldn’t see anything of what happened next. I heard punches, feet scraping, chairs toppling, and the occasional gunshot. If you would believe it, I saw one of the men fly through the air, hit the wall of the bar, and leave a hole in it.
Eventually, the bar fell silent, and I dared to peek out from under my table. Amos was standing over the last man, sitting up against a table and struggling to breathe. He was covered in blood. Amos drew heavy breaths and said “You don’t touch my family” and threw his fist into the last man with such power he pushed the table the man rested against a good five feet. The he collapsed.
I left my cover to survey the dismal scene. The first man lay shot dead by the entrance. His gun sat next to him with the barrel bent about 15 degrees. Two more were in the corner under a shattered wooden table, a circular dent in the wall above them. The fourth man was across the bar from them - the one that had been thrown - and lied motionless. The fifth was under a table with his skull caved in. A dent in the edge of the table marked where his head lay before he was punched.
Amos sat on the floor. I ran up to him and slapped him awake. “Amos,” I said. “You made a damn fine mess of the bar with your stunt.”
Amos responded groggily.
I held up “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Uhh… what?”
“How many fingers.”
He slapped my hand down. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
I did a quick once over of him. “You’ve been shot.”
“Yeah”
“There’s splinters in the wound, and I don’t see an exit. It’s probably still inside.”
“What of it.”
“If it isn’t treated you’ll get infected. You need alcohol.”
I grabbed a bottle from the counter. He grabbed my arm.
“Damn you. Let me take care of myself.”
I sighed. “You’ll only hurt yourself more. You’re probably in shock, you don’t know where all you’re hurt. If you move, it’ll make things worse for you. Let me help.”
Begrudgingly, he allowed me to help him. I poured the bottle of gin over his wound as the bartender ran to wake up the doctor.
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jbcjngh
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jbcjekq
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[WP] You've been abandoned on the battlefield, the enemy closing in. Forsaken by heaven and countrymen, you retreat to the deepest corner of your mind. If your gods won't help, perhaps the inner dark will. You cry out to the void. It answers.
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It's always... hard, to see people like this.
I enjoy when people call out to me. Sometimes they just need someone to vent to. I'm okay with that. I'm a silent listener. They tell me what's on their mind, on their heart, and in that way they feel better. They may not know that I listen... they almost certainly don't. But I do.
But these kind of people always hurt to hear. There's always some people who cry out... but they've already made the decision. Knowing the void listens to their struggles, more than any other has, they seek to join it. It's hard to see them let go of all their hope like that.
I don't know who abandoned this person. Maybe it was a lot of people. It looks like they are on a battlefield, of sorts. I wonder if they fought for what they believed in, or simply were forced into service?
...I suppose it doesn't matter. Not anymore. I doubt they could survive, even if friends were around, and... none are. Nobody is around to listen. No one is around to help. Nobody except me, for a vague definition of "somebody around." The only thing surrounding them is the enemy.
I hear their enemies discussing. What they plan to do with the captives. Horrible, horrible things. They laugh at the thought of their pain.
No. I will not give them that pleasure.
The person's breath abruptly stops. Life gone, like unplugging a light. Their soul is no longer trapped in that body. It's with me, now. I hold it close, for a time and another time. Trying to say without words that they are safe. They couldn't understand me if I spoke, anyway. I just have to hope they feel safe here.
After a bit, I send the soul away. It will wander, for a brief time. Who knows where it will end up. I've never known anything except this place. I wonder where the souls go, sometimes. Is there a heaven and a hell? Will they return to the world to suffer more? Have the souls I've let go created some town, some plane where they can live in peace?
I don't know... but no matter. More cry out to me. And so... I will listen.
Just as I always have.
Just as I always will.
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Ramius sagged.
Blood rained from the sky, actual blood. A huge cloud hovered just overhead, and a flash of light ING cracked the dark sky.
"Outlaw, copy?" The warlock gasped for air, pulling the magazine from his bullpup assault rifle. He shook his head. From feel alone he guessed it was half full.
The radio didn't even crackle with sound.
"Fuck." Ramius looked over the Salt Flats. Dozens of bodies littered the ground, wizards and beasts alike. He shook his head, taking a knee. He hadn't ever been this tired before.
"Outlaw?" He tried the radio. Still nothing. Thunder accompanied a quick bolt of lightning. Instead of a typical crack and rumble it was a scream. A very human sounding scream.
The warlock collapsed, vest usually full of mags was empty, his pistol too was empty. Grenade pins and spoons became a pillow as the young man disengaged from reality.
The blood kept falling, and while ramius knew he wasn't in the real world, he also knew he was in its domain now. The sound of a deep base wub shook the dream state. Like a helicopter blade in slow motion he felt a vibration shake his feet.
"Ready?" Cackled a distorted male voice. The thing knew English.
"Why are you here?" Ramius struggled to stand in his dream.
"Why do you attack me?"
Ramius spat into the blood puddles surrounding him, "you started this fight, we are finishing it. Wiping a village from the face of the earth is an act of war."
"They worshipped, but broke my law." The thing quipped.
"This is a human home, earth is protected. Regardless if they break your law, it was broken on earth. If you fuck with a human..." ramius looked up, glaring at the blood red cloud that the voice emanated from. "Expect to fight one of us."
"Fear of a few petty mortals is of no serious threat. I am a God, and you should kneel."
Ramius felt the presence trying to crush his mind, "I am a warlock. I will bow to none." The young man howled as his mind was slashed.
"Kneel."
"You think a God frightens me? I watched one of your kind slaughtered by a single one of my kind. You bleed, and so you can die." Ramius grinned manically, "try again you feckless fucking waste of sentience.!"
The air screamed and ramius couldn't stand anymore. He fell into a hole appearing as his feet, razors lining the walls of the hole. Barbed wire ripped into his mind as he plummeted, mind battered and lashed at his resistance.
Ramius screamed, he felt his resolve crumbling. I'm going to crack. He thought, panic making his inevitable mental break accelerate.
"Papa?"
Ramius blinked as his scalp was ripped by half a dozen rusting nails.
"Billy?"
"Papa wake up!" Ramius felt his body falling in his mind, but his physical form jostled in the opposite direction. The sensor input from his real body and his mental one triggered an unpleasant response. Snapping upright, Ramius vomited blood.
"Papa?"
The Warlock gasped for air as the Boogeyman cocked it's head.
"Billy, go!" Screamed Ramius as the sky crackled.
"Billy don't like rain." The boogey muttered.
"It's coming! Get out!" Ramius shoved the boogeyman from him, "run!"
Billy shrugged, "Papa want pizza?"
The voice made the soil tremble, "another soul for the reaping..."
"FUCK YOU!" something snapped in the young warlock, his rifle firing wildly into the cloud.
"Weak." The voice chuckled.
"Papa?"
Ramius looked to his semi adopted boogey man. "Yeah buddy?"
"Angry box make mean sound."
Ramius blinked, "what?"
Billy sighed, vanished a moment, then returned flashing back into existence. "Angry box."
The Boogeyman held up a cube, cogs scraping by each other in a cracked casing.
"Bring that back!" The voice rumbled with a note of panic.
"Bless your incredible heart." Ramius snatched the box. Drawing knife, he drove the tip into a cog. The mechanism immediately stopped.
The rumbling stopped, and a bright noonday sun blinded the warlock. He almost dropped the mechanical device.
"Angry box quiet." Noted the boogeyman helpfully.
Ramius nodded, "that was a nasty sealed..." The warlock paused, "thing." He finished with a shrug. Someone would have to explain what the hell it was.
"Billy knew Papa hurt." The Boogeyman looked at the device.
"How?" Ramius asked.
Billy shrugged.
"Thank you, billy." A tear began to form in the warlocks eyes. He knew how close he had been to breaking.
"Happy Papa now." Billy thumped his amorphous head into the warlocks knee before vanishing.
Ramius chuckled, flopping to the earth. "What a fuckin job."
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jiujsym
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jiuhk2l
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[WP]You and your other co-workers have known for a while that something is impersonating your boss. But no one has bothered to say anything because under its leadership the workplace has become an enjoyable place. Today you’re training a new employee when they see the boss eating a delivery driver.
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"What the-mmph!" The cry was cut short as a hand clamped around Colin's mouth.
"Be cool. Not a word, not a sound and I promise you'll be ok. I'll explain later, just...pretend everything is ok." Jake ordered from behind, slowly releasing him. Colin spun around violently, panic evident. He started to protest, but Jake just continued from exactly where he was in his health and safety brief. As if the supervisor hadn't just split into two, and swallowed the delivery driver whole.
Colin flinched and turned as he heard footsteps on the concrete behind him. There he was, in his orange hi-vis and badge, walking towards them as if nothing had happened. "Hi Robert, hows it hanging?" Jake said quickly, stepping in front of Colin. He was secretly glad of that- anything to put distance between him and it. " Hey Jake, its going great! Did ya see the Mets last weekend?"
The conversation went on for the longest few minutes of Colin's life. The worlds most cliche, robotic small talk between the two. Eventually 'Robert' walked off, seemingly having not noticed him. He released the breath he did know he'd been holding.
"There, what did I say... you're ok." Jake said, patting Colin on the back. "Let's head to the break room. I'm sure you have questions."
"Questions! He just ATE SOMEONE. WITH HIS WHOLE BODY."
"Yeah.... freaked me out too the first time. Look, the driver is fine. He's...not normal either. He'll be back in an hour or so, refilling his truck. Can you let go of the shelf, and come with me to the break room? You're gonna want a coffee. Or 6." Jake smiled nervously. Colin eyed him suspiciously but nodded and followed
Once in the break room, Jake poured two coffees and pushed one towards Colin. "Milk and sugar is over there." He pointed to the counter "Come take a seat and we'll talk about Robert and truck 13."
---
I gotta stop here but I'll be back later.
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Edit: totally misread a good chunk of the prompt lmao
-
“Um. Mr. Rus?” I had nothing in me except to blink at the sight of my boss, literally, consuming the guy delivering our pizza. It was late, we were drunk, and we just wanted a snack.
I was surprised to see our new boss deepthroating a whole ass leg, and he looked surprised to be caught in the act. “DONOVAN.”
“Mr. Rus.”
“SPEAK NOTHING OF THIS MOMENT.” He bit down with a sickening crunch and spray of tomato-colored juice. I suddenly didn’t want pizza anymore. He approached me, slowly, and I prayed to the god I didn’t believe in that I lived well enough to see him. Mr. Rus bellowed a laugh. “BE NOT AFRAID. I CONSUME ONLY THE DESERVING. YOU ARE NOT FIT FOR CONSUMPTION, DONOVAN.” I didn’t say anything. “YOU HAVE MANY QUESTIONS.” I nodded. He handed the stack of pizzas to me and told me to bring them up and come back: he was going to finish dinner.
I did that. Came back. Mr. Rus was impeccably clean. “Um. Sir? I’m back.”
“COME.” I obeyed. “I APOLOGIZE YOU HAD TO SEE THAT. I AM OFTEN MORE DISCREET, BUT THIS ONE WAS GUILTY OF EXTREME VIOLATION.”
“Um. What violation. Sir?”
“YOU DO NOT WANT TO KNOW.”
“Okay.” I was getting more confused by the second. “Um. So. What are you?”
“DO YOU PROMISE NOT TO TELL.”
“I don’t think I have a choice.”
He bellow laughed again. “YOU ALWAYS HAVE A CHOICE. YOU MAY NOT BELIEVE ME, BUT I HAVE MO INTENTION OF HARMING YOU.”
“Okay. Cool. Yeah. Uh. So.”
“I AM FORMERLY A DEMON. ZANDRUS, BUTCHER OF ALGARUS, CONQUEROR OF MOONS AND SUNS, EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH AT GALRUN’S BUTCHER SHOP, STAR PLAYER OF LACROSSE AND CHEESECAKE CONNOSEUR. ”
Wait what? Did he, did he just say employee of the month? And lacrosse player? “Sir you uh. Okay i’m lost. Am I drugged? was there something in the lunch?”
The titan in charge of my paycheck invited me to sit next to him on the curb. “YOU ARE NOT IMAGINING THIS. YOU ARE NOT A MAN OF GOD, YES?” I shook my head. “YOU SHOULD BE.”
You know, I could believe it. Something about everything he did just… kinda made sense? Fiery personality, gravelly voice, fondness of brutality (but like, business ruthless. He was very gentle in person.) It wasn’t the typical devil schtick, but all the passion was there. “Okay. Demon boss. Nice.” I looked at the delivery guy’s car. “So… why’d he get eaten?”
“HE COMITTED MORTAL SIN.”
“How’d you know?”
“I AM ABLE TO SENSE THIS. I KNOW OF PEOPLES TRANSGRESSIONS. IT IS AN INSTINCT INNATE TO ALL DEMONKIND.”
I was suddenly very aware of all the tiny things I thought I could get away with. He must’ve noticed the fear because he continued. “YOU ARE SAFE. YOUR SINS WEIGH LIGHTLY.” He looked at me with fire and gentleness in his eyes. “YOU ARE NOT NEARLY AS BAD AS YOUR MIND TELLS YOU.”
“Excuse me?”
“I HAVE MONITORED YOUR PERFORMANCE AND ATTITUDE OVER THE MONTHS WE HAVE WORKED TOGETHER. YOUR PRODUCTIVITY IS EXCELLENT.”
“Oh. Uh. Thanks.”
“YOUR MENTAL HEALTH IS NOT.”
“Excuse me-“
“DO NOT HIDE THIS.” Suddenly, my cannibalistic(?) boss softened up. Like, I literally saw his muscles loosen and he grew a fraction of a bit smaller. “I AM AWARE OF HOW OFTEN YOU VISIT THE COMPANY COUNSELOR. I DO NOT KNOW THE SPECIFICS OF YOUR PLIGHT, BUT I AM FAMILIAR WITH THE PATTERNS OF YOUR BEHAVIOR.”
“Okay hold on, not cool. What the FUCK? Have you been spying on me?” I raised my voice at him and immediately cooled it when I remembered how he was munching away at an apparent criminal not too long ago. “Sorry sir. I meant to say, what the fuck? Who are you?”
“ZANDRUS. FORMER IMMORTAL DEMON, NOW MORTAL DEMON.” He sighed. “I WILL NOT GET INTO MY STORY. I WISH TO CONFRONT YOU OF YOUR STRUGGLES.”
I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “YOU DO NOT NEED TO ACCEPT THIS. YOU ARE WELCOME TO REJOIN THE PARTY. I ASK YOU KEEP THIS TO YOURSELF; YOU ARE FREE TO DO AS YOU WISH.” This was already an insane night, but for some reason I just… believed him. Human snacking aside I genuinely felt like he was looking out for me in some twisted way.
“Alright Mr. Rus.”
“CALL ME ZAN.”
Part 2 here: [part two!](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/137l41e/wpyou_and_your_other_coworkers_have_known_for_a/jiuhl5g/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=ioscss&utm_content=1&utm_term=1&context=3)
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j7badzr
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j79w0mb
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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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The heavily armoured man sat down at the bar with a heavy sigh.
"Ale," he commanded simply. The bartender, knowing his disposition just from the tone, obliged.
"Rough day?" he asked and started pointlessly polishing a wooden mug.
"A rumour of a dragon that turned out..." the warrior sighed. "Wasn't what I was expecting."
"A failed hunt? It got away?"
"No, it's... the damn thing was the size of my thumb," the warrior complained. The bartender stopped polishing the mug for a moment.
"Say again?" he said.
"It was... tiny. I dunno if the rumour I followed was by some bumpkin unable to recognize the thing was harmless or a prank, but... it was this tiny lizard guarding a single copper coin."
"Huh," the bartender commented plainly. "So... what did you do?"
The warrior looked at him wearily and passed him a single copper coin. "For the ale," he said grimly and finished it. The bartender gave him a disapproving look but accepted the money.
The warrior got up with another loud sigh and headed for his room, wondering what to do with his new roommate; a very small and very happy dragon resting atop a shiny golden coin.
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'Seriously? That's it!?' Marion exclaimed, face folded with disbelief. The two Martinez twins had roughly the same annoyed shock on their faces. 'We come all this way for this thing! We could be out doing a job and make some actual gold, not chasing a dragon cub I could fit in my shit pocket!'
The two of them glared at Michael in unison, as the silvet-haired young ranger sheepishly raised his hands, despite one of them still occupied with his shotgun. "I dunno, just heard rumours of a dragon and I thought it would be a right exciting adventure!"
"Well I like him!" Maxine interjected indignantly, the miniscule dragon and its prized penny held delicately in her paw.
'Of course you like him!' came the gruff voice of Marco Martinez, joining his sister in judgemental scorn. The canid Maxine whined, fluffy ears arched pathetically back. The inhuman rogue was inches away from invisibility before Michael laid a gloved hand on her shoulder to cool her nerves.
From the sideline, a wheezy laughing reverberated through the cave. Every head of the party turned to look at him. Milo, the team's ice wizard, was laughing to himself as he adjusted his glasses.
'Oh goodness, you are *so annoyed!* Totally worth it, just for that.'
Marion growled, more becoming of the canid of the party. Her brother tried to restrain her, to little avail.
'It's fine, its fine. Sorry, this whole thing is just *hil-arious!* I mean, Michael, where did you hear about this little guy from?'
"Well there were those guys back at the Rocking Stone Tavern, remember?"
'You mean the jackass 'rivals' who tried to kill us?'
"Y-yeah. I remember their mage babbling about a dragon over by this location after you smacked him silly." He gestured to Marco, a swift moment of pride washing over the brawler as he admired his oversized metallic fists. "Just... figures it would be pathetic."
Maxine was still occupied with the miniscule dragon, cooing as she poked its scaly snoot with a finger. "Can we keep her? I so want to keep her,she is just so cute!! Oh, can we name her? I'll name her Maddy!"
Marco gave her a pained glare as he rubbed his forehead, Milo's cackling audible just behind him. 'You- you know what? Fine. Sure. Keep the damn thing. I don't care.'
Meanwhile Marion was scratching her chin as she turned on a heel, pointing a finger toward Michael, who was presently fiddling with his armour plating.
'Hey, Michael, you didn't happen to hear this rumour from their mage with the dumb orange hat that looks like a traffic cone, did you?'
"Oh yeah, I did, what about it?"
Marion mouthed the word 'shit' as with perfect comedic timing, the aforementioned traffic cone-clad mage stepped out from behind a rock and with him, a crowd of necromanced forest critters.
"'Ah, the Maladies, I see you've fallen for my ingenious trap, *again.*'"
"Hey, come on, there was some gold-finding potential in that one, screw off!" Michael objected.
"'No matter, with my *army* you won't survive! Because it totally worked last time!'"
Marion groaned, as her brother smiled from ear to ear as his metallic hands coiled into multi-kilogram fists. Milo was still absolutely losing it over the whole situation.
"We won't let you touch Maddy, orange guy! Never!" Maxine spat, clutching the now very confused cub in her hands.
Michael nodded, racking his shotgun and thrusting it into the air triumphantly.
"FOR MADDY!" He shouted, followed by the rest of the gang with varying levels of seriousness, as the Maladies charged into battle again.
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jf7ubny
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jf5puys
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[WP] The dark forest hypothesis is correct. There are many civilizations that exist in the universe, but keep silent in fear of the "hunters in the woods." So, instead of hiding in fear, why not become an angler fish?
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I am one of the youngest, and to my knowledge, the last of my kind left in this part of the universe; but I am ancient beyond your imaging. I have crossed this galaxy thousands of times. That's hundreds of millions of years in compressed time - you understand, yes? I can stand on the bridge, stare into the dark, and in the blink of my eyes an entire civilization has risen and fallen.
We were tearing through the darkness between the stars, chasing light, for millions of years before your planet was finished cooling. We were creating the roads and reshaping worlds before your ancestors had first crawled out of the oceans. The sun I was born under went out before your people had started to walk on two legs. So when I tell you that I know the true nature of the night sky - you really, really need to believe me.
We were the first of the terrestrial species to go out into the void - but we did not find ourselves alone there. There are _things_ in the depths of space. Things more powerful and more terrible than you can imagine... and in our hubris, we thought to hunt them.
You see, we thought that we were unassailable. Our technology indomitable. Our understanding of science not just superior, but complete. There was nothing we didn't know. Nothing we couldn't do. We could prove that our physics, our math, could describe everything that is, or that ever could be.
Those great, dull, hungry beasts that live in the darkness - we thought of them as tigers, stalking their little piece of territory. Camouflaged against the light, they don't come near our warm, safe, stars not out of fear - what do they have to fear? - but because they don't want to scare away their prey. But what is a tiger to a sophisticated hunter? They were _animals_ and we were so much more. Yes, they were dangerous if we tripped upon them with our guard down, but we could easily end them.
We. Were. Wrong.
You see, space is not a jungle. The predators we found aren't tigers. Space is an ocean, and while we swim safely in the shallows there are things far stranger in it's depths. The occasional bigger fish might drift close to shore, but compared to the things that live in the true dark - the creatures of the intergalactic void - they're minnows.
We made too much noise. We attracted attention. Have you ever looked into the sky and wondered why there are so many little dark patches where there seem to be fewer stars than there should? The things that came for us... the battles we fought against them...
We ended _suns_ to drive them off.
Today my people are all but extinct. So yes, why not become a hunter? Why not make a lot of light, and noise, and see what comes for you?
Just give me time to leave the galaxy before you do.
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It helped that they'd been unknowingly clanging a clarion of bells for almost the entirety of their existence. The humans that arrived were hidden under so many layers of woven garments and vacuum layers it was hard to get a sense of their posture. This was deeply distressing to the handpicked emissaries, since specific postures made up the entirety of Sdyn language. It was helped not in the least that while the human active language pathway was busy trying to squeeze rendering animations out one at a time while they threw around idioms and culture specific greetings. Four adolescent boys on their first deep space mining mission assumed to be a kind of embassy since they were the furthest from their planet. When Patricia finally got the boys to realize this wasn't some costume gag and the Sydn were in fact four-hearted snake-cat warrior princeses on embassy to an earth that was at this moment a tourist backwater. The kindly AI, entirety out of her depth and running overflow through four gaming rigs and an outdated Socrates array managed to communicate to the aliens that they had the wrong address and we would kindly like you off our space ship. She also had to press each word through an asymmetric system that kept crashing to desktop and asking her broad philosophical questions requiring a paragraph of academic writing about 13 times every human second. Finally, last but also first in the infuriating design of a save-life-first system, she had to keep the edgy friend of a friend going through an awkward phase from trying to fuck the aliens because he thinks they're strippers.
The Jovian cluster had the most warships so that's where they went first, armed with a ghoulish clone of Patricia who now lives as a permanent loading screen. Jovia prime's senators looked up from their hourly races for office pointed them immediately to Venutia prime and the sol outpost mostly to fuck with the smug energy hoarders. There the Patricia clone managed to earnestly get the point across;
*"be silent"*
"Old Cleaner" was the name that the first couple hundred outposts that encountered the processer of complex things. It was big, and it was moving between solar systems. It had a Sydn outpost consisting of four aligned and coordinated war worlds rendered an empty place before they could even react. Now it had a scientific classification name commonly used in the Sydn Coalition but every human colloquially used the traditional Sydn name *Hysthpracht* (*Hysth*-throw your head back and snap to attention, crossing arms over chest if the setting is martial; *Pracht*-turn sideways an spit when pronouncing) which was really fun to say as well as rousing to throw into a jingoistic pre-murder speech. The idea was since the human race had already made so much damn noise the best idea was to try to kill or injure it while humanity made itself scarce. They spent their 24000 year history believing themselves completely alone and moreover completely special. It wasn't the splash of the stone in the pond, it was the ripples. *Hysthpracht* was just a little outlier. A worker bee loose from the hive. When the waves of clangorous noise crashed against the hive then they would all really be in trouble.
The solution the 1200-planet union of cat-snake waring subfactions and one-system monkey people came up with was to let it try to eat the entire human race and use four Sydn warships to drive all the nuclear and plasma weapons right at it's fleshiest bit. Its an amorphous nebula sized cloud of what the cat-snake scientists with the help of the considerable grainier angle from human 22nd century radio telescopes determined what might be its transmitter, or at least its heart. They peppered it with minefields of spent asteroids accelerated in waves at it forcing it small. 1200 years it took to jump, hundreds of years at a time to distant empty stars possibly planting a flag on each. In that time, a new strategy developed. Maybe if they caught it unawares in a matrix of nuclear fire. Maybe if they blasted every atomic frequency in the general area they could stop the wasp-like death rattle that may faster-than-light alert the hive. Maybe if they just hide and dont poke the demon we'll all survive. They went with the nuclear firestorm option, because the idiom about hammers and nails translates perfectly.
The Sydn had four apporoaching-C dreadnoughts in the area, so the problem looked like an excuse to exercise them. The *four golden spears* zipped by, dumped 4,000 years of collected solar energy into the cloud as broadband randomized frequency before the dreadnoughts began disintegrating like the atoms just forgot to stick together. The asteroid assaults became constant until one day, the first of earth may and the fifth of jovian November in the tiny loud system, 435,333 asteroids with plasma-refracted nukes fireblasted a hole in reality around the clouds specific area. The white hexagon, they called it. Whether it worked or not was not a problem for right now though, because space is big and needs people to fill it. Quietly.
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j37k4z2
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j36x5lm
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[WP] Zombie apocalypse. You have a reputation for mercilessly and unflinchingly executing anyone who's been bitten, because "sentimentality gets you killed!" Someone you care for has just been bitten on a supply run.
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"Hey boy, this was your last run huh? Well that's ok. You've done everything well." I said through the tears in my eyes when I saw the bite mark.
"Too bad I wasn't there to protect you, huh? But I doubt I would have been able to do much, you're an idiot who always runs far ahead."
I had the reputation for executing anyone who's been bitten without mercy or hesitation. I've even executed children despite their parents' gut wrenching pleas.
This was hard for me. I didn't want to kill him.
"I'm sorry our adventure ends here, old boy." He wouldn't hurt me, I knew that. But it only took a few hours, extremely agonizing hours for the infected to fully turn into one of the undead. He wouldn't even recognize me once the change had fully happened.
His large eyes stared at me, so full of trust. He knew I would never hurt him.
I barely heard the sound of my gun firing at his head, trying to give him a quick and painless death.
A dog really is a man's best friend.
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Four dead and three wounded - soon to be seven dead. The idiots crowded my way to the bunker, anxious to see if it was their wife or child or cousin or fuck buddy among the dead. Anyone in the way of my direction and pace got knocked down. The idiots caught on quicker than usual and made a path.
At the bunker door an officer - or at least someone who stole an officer's uniform, no one cares anymore as long as you're willing to do the job - addressed the idiots, "What are you expecting, an open casket? You know the routine, clear out and read the tags hung on the board tonight." He opened and closed the door for me, and timed it well.
The dead were already being tossed in the incinerator. One of the wounded was pleading for their life while a private coldly reminded them of the rules, "You know you don't show up in these walls wounded. Protocol is clear, outside wounds stay outside." Their eyes were sweaty with fear. Lips trembled with a plea but it was too late. Idiots will say anything for a few more minutes of tortured life, no matter how many others it puts in danger. I've seen the greed too many times before. The change happens quick, then they're mindless biting machines, determined to get one drop of saliva in your bloodstream. This one didn't get the chance to beg. Their wide eyes and trembling lips froze as my bullet ended them.
The second wounded was still and hunched over. Didn't even flinch from the gunshot, it's easier when they accept it like this. As I aimed my gun they raised their face for one last glance, but the eye contact was familiar. David, my father. Memories of sunny days and laughter filled my head in places I thought were gone forever. He recognized me and his hopelessness turned to scheming. I saw him plotting out how to handle me, that maybe he had a chance to get out of his doomed fate. He didn't. I pulled the trigger and kicked myself for the moments hesitation. I've expected better from others, no reason I shouldn't expect the same from myself.
The third was uncouncious - just a kid. The nurse shielded him, "No, no. He wasn't with them. Their car hit him while he was trying to shut the gate. He tried to keep them out." A bite mark on his arm told a different story. She saw me see it. "I know this boy. He's not well. He scratches and bites himself at night. It's the only way for him to sleep. He had medicine but we've run out. Let me take him to.."
His blood splattered on her face before she could finish. "No bites allowed inside these walls." She swayed in shock and horror then screamed at the top of her lungs. "No exceptions." That's what these idiots don't understand, that it's the rules that allow this haven to exist. Enforcing the rules is the *only* way this place exists.
I felt hands on me as I turned around to leave. It was the nurse. She lunged at me like a mad woman, clawing at me and.. sinking her teeth into the flesh of my forearm. She immediately backed away like a hyena trying to share a kill with a lion. Her face was covered in blood but she wiped under her lip where it was just mine and smiled. She kept the smile on as I shot her dead but we both knew she got the last laugh. She knew I was right behind her - and I was. No sentimental hesitation this time. I put the still smoking chamber to my temple and...
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j8lmmyt
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j8lhi26
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[WP] You are kidnapped by the villain regularly, but you’re starting to look forward to it. You know they won’t hurt you, and are simply being dramatic. It also doesn’t help that you are the only person they ever kidnap. This time, the hero doesn’t bother trying to save you.
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Why do they call it Stockholm syndrome?
If I had my phone on me I’d look that up. I can’t at the moment, I’m a little…tied up. Oh, yeah, you can’t actually see me. My hands are literally bound and I’m locked in a cage. Fun times. But it’s not so bad. Dr. BadBraun is actually a pretty cool guy.
Ok, sure, it’s a little sad that my most long-term and reliable relationship happens to be with a villain who consistently kidnaps me. So what? Don’t yuck someone else’s yum. We get along pretty well. He doesn’t tie the ropes too tightly, and usually doesn’t gag me—unless of course the scenario calls for that.
*Scenario*. Sure, I agree, that makes it sound dirty, like we’re roleplaying. And I suppose in a way we are. Not in a sexual way or anything. I know he won’t hurt me, not for real anyway, or at least not on purpose. It’s my role to look as distressed as possible when the hero shows up. And by god, am I good at my role.
I took acting classes to learn how to cry on command. Dr. BadBraun hasn’t noticed yet, or at least he hasn’t let on that he has—so withholding, that one. Why is it that guys always want to act like you’re not as great as you are? Are they all so insecure that they think you’ll drop them the second you realize your self-worth?
God, that makes me sound so clingy. I swear, I’m *not* clingy. I just—I work hard at this, and I wish he’d recognize the effort I put in to adequately fool the hero into thinking I’m in danger.
Speaking of the hero, where the hell is that guy?
This is why you never fall for heroes—they’re never where you need them to be. Talk about a job that should come with hazard pay. Have you ever been in a relationship with a hero? Jesus Christ! You might as well have a big red bullseye on your back.
“I don’t think he’s coming,” says Dr. BadBoi dejectedly. Oops, did I actually write Dr. BadBoi? I’m so bad.
“Should I scream?” I ask. “Or would it help if I begged for my life? What if I cried? Is this the one with super hearing? What if—“
“Would you just stop!” He interrupts. Rude. I’m just trying to be helpful. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just…I’m under a lot of pressure here and I’m just so stressed. I haven’t been sleeping—“
“Shhhh….” My turn to interrupt.
“What are you—?” He says.
“Shhhh…You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Dr. BadBraun. I get it. I get you. Villains don’t get their due. Especially you. You’ve always been so kind to me. I think you get a bad rap. You’re so much more intelligent than those pesky heroes, and not to mention so much stronger! They’re just coated in plot armor!”
His face lights up. I love it when that happens.
Ok, ok, maybe my feelings are a *little* romantic. Sue me. I have needs. Who among us haven’t fallen for someone we shouldn’t? That’s what I thought. For your safety, please keep all judgmental thoughts securely inside your head until the end of the ride. Thank you.
“You’re right!” He says. “They’re all just caked in fucking plot armor!” Oooh, I love it when he curses. The heroes can’t do that. Those straight-edge phonies. One time when Mr. Stupendo—stupid name, right?— was saving me I heard him say the F word and he blushed. Can you believe it? He fucking blushed.
“You know what I’ve noticed?” I ask.
“What’s that?” He says. I’ve got his full attention. What a rare treat!
“Heroes tend to lose their plot armor when there’s a damsel in distress. You should try chucking me off the building to see if you can catch them off guard.”
“You’re not a fucking damsel,” he says. “For one, you’re a fucking middle aged bald dude, Allen, and for two, you’re my goddam sidekick and they all know it!”
Such harsh words! I can barely contain my surprise? Me? A bald man? *Middle-aged*? Heavens me. I know I’ve let myself go a little, what with the holidays and all, but to be mistaken for such a creature….it hurts.
I cry a little. Am I not a person? If I am wounded do I not bleed? Ok, so I’m a sidekick. Though, I prefer ‘henchman’ since Dr. BadBoi—did I do it again?—is a villain. But that doesn’t make my feelings any less valid.
“I’ll forgive that slight,” I say in a dignified tone. “But you’ve kidnapped me and brought me here, so you’ll at least let me speak!”
“My god, Allen, for the last time, I tied you up because you kept trying to hug me! You’re in timeout! If you keep this up I’m going to have to let you go!”
Gaslighting? Is this guy seriously gaslighting me right now? I *know* he isn’t trying to gaslight me.
“You kidnapped *me*! Not the other way around, mister. I won’t be gaslit in this way any further! Now let me say my piece!”
He rests his face in his palms. So presidential. He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and only I can help him lighten the load.
“By all means,” he says. Such a gentleman. I told you, he’d never hurt me on purpose.
“Do you know why they call it Stockholm syndrome, doctor?” I ask.
He gives me a perplexed look. Oh to stump a genius such as he! He’ll surely love me for this!
“No, I don’t know why they call it that,” he says.
“It’s because the kidnapper has to Sweden the deal…” I say with a great big grin.
“I didn’t kidnap you!” He screams. He has such a fire about him.
I just love it when we spend time together. I hope he kidnaps me again soon.
Who am I kidding? I know he will.
_______
r/InMyLife42Archive
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TW - dark ending.
********
“He needs to be stopped”
“What for? Out of all the criminals we have, he’s probably the most non violent. On our list of priorities, he’s right at the bottom of the totem pole.”
“You don’t understand. He’s the most dangerous of them all.”
“Ok let me look. Dr Death. Damages this month. 4 million. Citizens harmed. 8. 2 dead. Matterman. 15 million in damages. 3 people sustained minor injuries. Ah. Here we go. Heath. Hmmm. 35k in damages. No one dead. No one injured. Only 1 person ever kidnapped. Besides what sort of super villain calls himself Heath. Not even a supervillain name. I don’t know why you’re so bent out of shape over…”
Shadow stormed out. Normally you could barely tell when he came in and out. Probably his biggest advantage. But the door was closed so violently that it came off its hinges. No way it could have gone unnoticed.
“Idiot.” The mayor grumbles under his breath. “When he can’t argue with math, he throws a tantrum.”
The mayor then busied himself in looking at his polling numbers. It wasn’t looking good.
******
“You might as well drop the facade and let me out. Or are we going to talk from across the room again today?”
Heath looked up. Their eyes met for a moment but Heath immediately looked away. “Yeah. Uh. That’s not really locked. 3 clockwise and 2 anticlockwise. That will let you out.”
Shawna did as he asked. To her surprise the lock clicked and the door opened. “You do know that it’s a creepy wooing technique right? I assume that’s what you’re doing here.”
“No… I… I’m sorry.”
“Some supervillain you are.” She went to him, and sat next to him. The cave that they were in opened out to a beautiful view of the city skyline. The sun was setting and the sky looked like it was on fire. She looked at his phone that he held.
She raised her eyebrows. “What are you doing?”
“Oh. I… I accidentally destroyed a shop while kidnapping you today. Damages of around 35-40k. I’m just sending them the money back.”
She laughed heartily. It was like a roar of happiness and it made his heart flutter. “You really don’t know how to be a supervillain.”
“Well I’m retiring today. So it’s probably for the best.”
“You’re retiring? Why?”
“He was there today. Waiting for me. He knows I’m targeting you specifically. I tried to keep it random. But obviously he’s been keeping a watch on you continuously.”
“What do you mean he’s watching me?”
“I usually time my attacks based on when other villains attack. When he’s busy. Dr Death is in the middle of a major attack right now. But Shadow didn’t go to help there. He stayed, keeping a watch on you. I missed him, of course. Impossible to see him if he doesn’t want you to or if you’re prepared for it specifically. So he’s prioritizing stopping me over saving the dozens of people who are in danger right now. I can’t do that. I could never live knowing people came to harm because of me. He should be out there stopping Dr. Death. But he attacked me. Once I saw him, I was prepared of course. But the damages. I’m not a rich man. 50k is basically all my life savings. I wish I had more so I could try to compensate for the people Death is…” He paused, realizing Shawna was staring at him.
“You’re a supervillain. You’re supposed to do bad things to get money or power. Not empty out your bank accounts to help victims.”
“As you said, I’m not a good villain.”
“Why then?” Shawna took out her phone, put it on silent and placed it between them.
He looked at the phone.
She smiled. “It’s not recording or anything. Out here at the edge, I have a bar. Inside there’s no signal. As you’re probably aware which is why you’re sitting here to do bank transactions.”
“Oh. Yeah. That and the view is gorgeous here.”
“It really is.” But she shivered a bit.
“Oh I’m sorry. Let me.” He made a wrist movement, and a jacket appeared almost by magic.
“Thank you. Super cool.”
He smiled and stared at his feet. “Nah it’s nothing.” He looked out at the sky again. “It doesn’t seem like he’s coming.”
“I wonder why. Not that I’m complaining.”
“I hope he’s stopped Dr. Death.”
“If it’s the last time, I’d like to know why.”
“Why what?”
“Why do all of this? Who are you?”
“Well the second one is easy. My name is Heath.”
“Not your villain name. Your real one.”
He looked a bit sheepish, as sheepish as possible with a mask on. “It’s Heathcliff. My mom loved the classics.”
Shawna laughed. “What the fuck!!! You didn’t even change your name?”
“I didn’t really think it through! It was just a moment that I went insane. And I do want to apologize for that. I know I’ve caused you some real harm.”
“Not particularly. I’ve come to sort of enjoy our conversations. You’re obviously a smart guy.”
“That’s not healthy.”
“It’s not. But have you seen the dating pool out there? This isn’t even my weirdest date.”
“It’s not a date! I just… ok let me ask you this. Do you believe in fate?”
“Oh god. Now I’m starting to sour on you.”
“I know I know. That sounds weird. High school athletic meet. You were the basketball star.”
“How do you know that?”
“I… well… I was at the finals game. I went to St. Mary’s.”
“No way! Did you play?”
“No no. I wasn’t good at any sports. But I saw you and…”
“Creeping back into creepy.”
“I know! It’s not like that though. I saw you. And I know it’s a bit cringy. But I sort of fell for you. I never intended to see you again. I just knew your name. And I had your smile after the final shot. That was enough for me.”
“You should’ve said something.”
“I was there for 2 days. Then I’d be back miles away. Plus I… well… let’s just say you were always too good for me.”
“That’s silly talk.”
“I know we like to say that. But like, I couldn’t imagine why you would go out with someone like me. Especially since I was going to be gone shortly.”
“That’s quitter talk. What’s the worst that could’ve happened.”
“Nothing I suppose. Let’s just say I was a coward.”
“And then. You decided this was the best way to see me again. As I said, we’re strongly in creepy territory again.”
“I… I don’t know how to explain. Look I gained my powers when I hit puberty. But I was already bullied enough. I was already called freak by everyone. I just hid them. When I first… well kidnapped you, do you remember what happened?”
“I kinda do. There was bad weather and then… oh!!!”
“Yep. It was the day Matterman attacked. The building behind you was about to collapse. I looked across the street and say… well the lost, first love. I panicked. I just wanted to get you out of harms way. But then I imagined exactly this conversation and didn’t want to show you my face or tell you who I was. Because it was obviously creepy as you pointed out. So I just pretended to be a villain. The second time.. again I swear to god I just saw you. I just panicked again. You looked at me and I thought you recognized me. I just quickly put on a mask. People, including you got scared. And i just.. I don’t know why I did that honestly.”
“And then we got to talking.”
“I sort of begin to enjoy our conversations. While I’ve hidden my superpowers I still did want to know more about them. I had researched Shadow and other heroes and villains. I can sort of match up with Shadow as long as I can control the environment. Plus the whole he won’t kill works in my favour.”
“And today?”
“It seems that he has decided I am more important than actually saving lives. So I guess I’m saying goodbye.”
Shawna reached over and took off his mask. “Next time. Just text me. Look I enjoy talking to you. And just to be clear I’m not saying anything is going to happen here. But I’ll give you a chance to woo me.” Shawna took her phone and handed it to Heath. “Put your number in.”
Heath looked shocked. But he took her phone.
**Tracking in progress**
“Oh no.”
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j3wfryo
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j3wbp0t
|
[WP] "Hold me" she pleaded. "I know you don't like me, you even tried to kill me.... but please hold me". I didn't like her but no one deserved this. So I held her close for a long time.
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The math I had to do on the battlefield wasn’t much different from the one I used to teach.
Ruptured lung, no pulse. Sub 1% chance of resuscitation. The fact that he’d told me jokes in my first week in the barracks didn’t factor into the problem I was solving – saving lives. I stepped over the body and scanned the sea of corpses ahead of me.
A siren wailed behind me and there was the distant rumble of some airplane or other passing overhead. I would do the whole thing in training, dive down and hold my helmet over me like some admittedly well-built hat was going to save me from a bomb, but the sense of danger diminishes after the first hundred times or so. Right now, it was just another distraction that made my job harder.
“Please…”
I whirled when I heard it. Somewhere to my left. Functioning vocal cords, enough energy to speak. The odds were more than single digits. Those were the best numbers you got in this line of work. I just had to find her…if only the damn sirens would shut up!
“Please…anyone….”
This time I was looking in the right direction and the sirens faded as a plane flew overhead. Friendly or enemy I didn’t bother looking. No pilot was going to waste metal here. So I could pinpoint roughly where she was, because it definitely was a woman’s voice.
I ran, or rather walked a bit faster, stepping over arms and legs when I couldn’t avoid it. Unmoving, nonreactive to pain. Essentially 0% chance of survival. It was worth it to go potentially reach someone who I could save. I clambered over a particularly large pile of bodies that I was confident the voice was behind.
I stopped dead when I saw her.
Her eyes were bloodshot, head facing me. 50% chance of facing my direction. Propellor wing impaling her side, blood forming a seal at the entry wound. Clothes stained with blood, bulging eyes, skin discoloration.
0% chance of survival.
"Hold me," she pleaded. "I know you don't like me, you even tried to kill me.... but please, hold me."
Kill her….ah. It was hard to tell with the blood, but the uniform wasn’t one of ours. The enemy. Just thinking that made adrenaline flood my veins, my heart-rate spike. Emotional reaction. She wasn’t responsible for me being here, for my friends being buried. Humans were humans and all that, but damn it I hated them.
I hated them and I hated her, but no one deserved this.
So arms and legs wooden, I stepped towards her and knelt, resting her head on my legs. She sighed, relieved as she felt me.
“Thank you…” she breathed. “I just...I didn’t want to go alone.”
Her English was surprisingly good. “I’m here,” was all I said.
“I know,” she gasped in pain as blood spurted out of her wound.
I tsked and put pressure on the side of the propellor. “0% chance of survival” echoed in my brain. “Enemy” bounced around in my heart.
But I stayed with her.
“I know,” she continued her voice infused with a sense of urgency that only came in dying men and women with something critically important to say. I’d heard it too often. “This is too much to ask already. Find my son,” she winced in pain and held up her dog tags. “Please, tell him…”
I leaned in to let her know I was listening, to make sure I heard her. Saving lives…perhaps there was more to that objective. Maybe it wasn’t just a numbers game. All this war…I’d forgotten what living truly meant.
“Tell him…”
Overhead a siren wailed and another plane flew over our heads. By the time they passed she was dead and her words dead on her lips.
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The first thing the Wreckage takes from you is your humanity.
I learned that my first week when I watched a group of raiders get sliced by a laser turret they tried to pry open. It didn't kill them. Just chopped off their limbs, left them screaming in the dirt, their blood staining the white sand.
I couldn't help it but watch as their strength faded and they died from blood loss. Cruel? True, but I was fifteen, had no medical knowledge and that turret could've easily sliced me up as well. Which is why I waited till the sun went down and the solar battery died before taking their stuff.
I watched grown men die, and was rewarded with some water and a new rifle.
Funny how that works.
I had many encounters like that in my time scavenging the Wreckage. Pretty much anybody came out there, looking to strike some silver with a spare component or device still untouched or left behind long after the giant colony ships crashed onto our planet. Problem was, one of the biggest reasons *why* there were still parts left even after centuries of salvaging was because most people that came simply died - either from other salvagers, the haywire security systems, or just the harsh elements of the Glass Desert.
In a place where people are chewed up in 5 minutes, it's hard to believe that I lasted 15 years.
Why I stopped? Oh, simple. Someone tried to kill me.
Now lemme explain. This was back when people started trying to "claim" zones for salvage, saying that since they paid some people to reserve it they got to take it at their leisure. I thought it was bullshit and they were just being lazy - pretty sure the claimant would agree, the stuff I took wasn't even *close* to the amount they paid for the claim - but someone must've known it was me because next thing I know I was getting shot at by some sniper next to a rock.
She yelled at me about being a "lawless bandit working against civility," another bullshit line because for the last ten years they've been trying that shit for like five, six times? Never works, people just go back to shooting and whatnot.
So I just flashbanged her eyes and got the hell out of there. For the next five months - *five! -* she made my life a living hell. Crude traps I had to disarm every time, attempts at ambushes that always fell through cuz some dipshit merc thought they could get the drop on me, hell she even tried CQC before I pummeled her with my implants.
I didn't kill her though. If I knew anything about the Wreckage she'll get into her own trouble.
I didn't expect to be so right though.
One of the worst things to roam the Wreckage were these nanite clouds that would come in and eat people. No, I'm being serious - those monsters were like grey-goo swarms, if you got caught by one you would be shredded to pieces.
Luckily they couldn't reproduce, so most simply broke down. However go deep enough into the Wreckage and they become a problem.
I was down near the engineering section of one when I heard the screams. Group of men and women, likely a mercenary group sent after me (what can I say, I was popular.) I didn't think any less of it until I heard the electrical discharge explosion from a EM weapon. I grew curious, and figured if they were dumb enough to bring one but still perish, I could take it off their hands.
It was a blood bath. Grey dust showered mangled corpses and kit rendered unusable from the nanometer-sized bites taken out of them. When I got closer I found the sniper girl among them.
I'd never gotten this close to her before aside from when I punched her back over a hill, but I knew she got it bad. Sure it wasn't immediately fatal, but the nanites had targeted the weakest link in her armor first - the eyes - before going at the rest of her limbs. Effectively blind, lost one arm entirely and the rest of her limbs shredded, she did *not* look good.
That's when she started crying.
I think she knew it was me, or at least that's what I thought. Here she was, broken beyond any hope of restoration, and she made her final gambit. "Hold me," she pleaded. "I know you don't like me, you even tried to kill me...but please hold me."
Maybe it was how young she sounded - she looked like she was barely scraping adulthood - but her voice made me think back to when I was a kid starting out as a salvager. Desperate, looking for ways to make enough bank to survive. Sure, she made my life hell for all the wrong people...
But no one deserved to die like that.
I ended up taking her by the shoulders and lifting her into my arms. I walked probably around a kilometer out of the wreck and towards the nearest medi-station that wouldn't rob me dry. The technicians asked if I was related to the kid - I lied, said I was a distant cousin. Sat there for maybe four hours while the healing pod patched her up with flesh knitters and regeneratives.
The EM cannon I took from the dead mercs was enough cash to stabilize her, hell even fix her eyes a bit. But a tube in the middle of a box canyon could only do so much. She still couldn't see well and need cybernetic bracings to walk.
We started to talk after she left the pod and tried walking again. Apparently she came from a old merchant house back in Metro. High-level, too - only reason she decided to skip town was cuz she wanted to go out and make her own fortune as a reckless bounty hunter. I'll admit, I enjoyed her stories - entire streets populated with shops for everything you could ask for, families who played out in the streets like it was nothing. Actual laws and enforcement you could semi-regularly trust to not shoot you in the back.
So that's why we're heading southwest at the moment. She needs a chaperone to get her back to her family, and I figured a couple of weeks in the city couldn't kill me. I mean I did save her life so I figure that's a juicy little favor to check in. Besides... I wouldn't be lying if I wasn't excited. I heard they even got a bathhouse!
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lydqea7
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lydorw5
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[WP] there exist a spell so destructive that everyone even the gods vow to never let it be casted again, with no true name for the spell it’s simply referred to as … “14 billon skeleton”
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“Oh, I found something. Look.”
‘Ooh, a spell. What’s it say?’
“Something something [sealed away] something [no Gods dare] something something something [skeleton].”
‘Aren’t you the history nerd? Translate it properly.’
“It’s not my fault the author’s handwriting sucks. Anyway, looks like it’s a forbidden spell. Probably necromancy. Incantation is [Laiba Siren].”
‘*Laiba Siren* …Nothing’s happening.’
“Did you use the voice?”
‘Of course I used the voice. Don’t tell me how to mage. *Laiba Siren*. *LAIBA SIREN!*’
“Stop that. There’s a number here. [One, one, two]. Uh, these ancients used based three, so that’s makes 14. This spell summons 14 skeletons.”
‘Oh. My grandmother had one that could do 17. Why don’t I see any corpses though?’
**RUMBLE**
‘Ah, here they come. Stay close, Pikarn. I said it 3 times. That’s still thirty-ish, right? Nothing I haven’t handled before.’
“Technically it’s 42.”
‘Shut up, nerd. Wait. That looks more than fifty.’
“Oh! I missed a symbol. Uh, [million]. No wait. [billion].”
‘Uh…’
“I think you just summoned 42 billion skeletons.”
**RUMBLE**
‘Oh shit.’
|
It... could work.
It just needs the right conduit.
I looked up from my notes and stared over at the boilimg cauldron. Calcium. Protein. Water.... And all of that needed just the right conduit.
I stared over at the moon. Could it work? It'd help revitalize the farms. It'd mean we could finally get the soil back. After the Decay, we only have a few years left.
I walk over to the window and feel the searing hot wind across the pure black desert sand, the setting sun dyring the sky a dark red. The Decay had eaten half the world in the last year. It didn't harm humans or animals or even plants. But it fed on something in the soil.
Calcium, Protein, Water, Phosphorous... it could work.
I waved my hand and the energy from the fire disappated into the five nearby crystals. I tipped the cauldron over and let the water flow into the blackened sand, the last vestiges of sun fighting to be seen in the distance. I watched as the ground compacted and then... loosened as the potion drained away.
I crouched down and touched the tiny scraps of white powder left on the edges of the stone. They were coarse like sand, yet finer. As I rolled them between my fingers, I felt them crumble and fall away.
Bones. I needed more bones.
I couldn't kill the rest of the village, they didn't have nearly enough. No, to do this, I'd need to make them. But making something required a lot of energy, likely a life.
Fire was the easiest source to gather energy, but to generate all I needed, I'd need more.
I'd need to burn off part of the sun.
In theory, I could use it as a source. In theory. But there's no way my attunement sphere could ever reach that far. I'd need a conduit. One of the moons. If I could reach one, I could burn through it to reach the sun.
But to reach the moon...
I stared over at my village. One of the last on the planet, as far as we could tell. Only a thousand or so people.
Some of them were screaming, some pleading. All of it helped me think.
I stood over them, the fire crystals in hand.
"How many do you think will be enough?" I ask an old man. "Fifty would never save my planet." He's screaming obscenties and spitting with every word. I let him. It won't matter if he tires himself out. I only need him alive. "If you guessed a million, you're VERY wrong. So far off."
"Billions. We'll need billions more."
The stars are out now. Such a brilliant night sky. A dark indigo with brilliant specks of white.
I held out my crystals and a pyre in the center of them all rose. Fire is the easiest source to gather energy.
"I really do hope this works." I smile. "It'd be a shame to own such a boring ball of dust."
The flames spread and screams rose, I could feel the power swirling into the flames. I waved my hands and felt the heat shift. I closed my eyes and swirled the flames around me. Around the houses that remained. I swung my body around and around. It took every ounce of coordination to control the flames, to not waste an ounce of life force. I dance. The flames my partner, the screams and inferno's winds our music.
Under the dark sky and distant stars, the twin moons rise. I step and swing my body as the brilliant sky opens above me.
I raise my hands to the moon as the song ends.
A blast of intense flames leap through me. More than I could ever have felt when the world thrived. When it was interesting.
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j85vdrv
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j85pqho
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[WP] You are a demon, one of the top ranked ones at that. One day you get a call from an angel you used to be friends with. "Look, i hate to ask this, but i trust you. Can you cover for me for a couple years?" The Guardian Angel asks.
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I was starting to like this kid. I could see why Taziroth wanted to make sure she was covered, and why she thought I'd make a decent substitute guardian. The kid had a \*creative\* sense of justice, though she could use a little more common sense sometimes.
After last week's laxative brownies, the neighborhood bully was chasing Leah with murderous intent. I edited reality just enough to put an old gopher hole where the bigger girl was just about to step, and watched in satisfaction as she wrenched her ankle, and stopped the chase to howl. My charge paused her flight just long enough to taunt the bully and laugh, then she continued to dart away to her own yard.
Leah climbed the fence, then hopped from the top to the platform of her treehouse. She was getting better, this time I didn't have to nudge her aim at all for her to land safely. The cozy little treehouse was mostly full of the tools of her self-appointed trade. Stink bombs, rubber dog doo, smoke bombs, a wide selection of joy buzzers, and so on, all sorted by a complicated metric of price, quality, function, and strength. Little Leah was quite the artisan of chaos.
She filled her pockets with a choice selection, then jumped down from the treehouse, scorning the ladder in her haste to get on with her self-appointed mission. I nudged an inconvenient rock aside, so she didn't bobble the landing too badly. I was pretty sure she was heading towards the convenience store that usually tried to short-change kids who came in buying snacks, and I heartily approved.
I'm pretty sure a proper guardian angel was supposed to lead their charge towards the path of righteousness, not mischief. But if that's what Taz wanted, why in the h\*\*ven did she pick \*me\* for the job? No, I think she knew exactly what she was doing. After all, this kind of rough justice was exactly the proper province of Hell. I grinned, and followed after my racing charge.
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The halls of ice quivered as the demon laughed, a low tone of bass rattling stone and bone alike.
It paused, for a moment, as the figure looked to the other, before bursting into laughter again, harder than before. The booming laughter echoed through the twisting halls, overcoming the wails of the damned and the gnashing of teeth.
*I am being serious, Ahpuch,* the other spoke, their soft voice piercing through all noise. *I require your help.*
The laughter died swiftly, as the named demon stared down the speaker. **And you shall not receive it. I remember what you did, Azrael. I know what you have done.** The demon leaned forward, revealing a scarred wound. **The only reason I do not strike you down here and now is the promise we had, back before the Fall.**
*Then for the sake of that promise, then. I ask of you, please.*
Ahpuch gave a snort. **Even if I were so keen to rekindle our prior friendship, as I said: I know what you have done. I will not shield you from Father's wrath.**
*Ahpuch, please--*
**No.** Ahpuch leaned forward again, staring down the diminutive figure. **You broke the Laws, Azrael. You struck down a demon in cold blood. Further, you have tempted many of my kin to their demise. Purposefully.**
*Then you know how desperate I am to come to you for help.*
Ahpuch looked to Azrael, the two staring each other down for some time. Ahpuch gave a grim smile, stating, **Then I suppose you will expect my high demands?**
*Indeed.*
Ahpuch nodded, then thought. The demon finally decided on their demands, proclaiming them to the angel.
**Then I would demand of you, your power. I would demand of you, your strength. I would demand of you, your domain over death. Give me these, and I will take on your role. I will take on your responsibilities. I will even take on your ward.**
Demands made, the demon stood, extending a hand to the angel. A symbol formed in flame upon Ahpuch's hand, enveloping it the chains of contract. Azrael paused for a moment, before taking in a deep breath, and clasping the hand. The flame spread to his hand, searing the symbol in, scars forming as chains wrapped around his arm.
*I accept your terms.*
As the words were finished, Azrael gave a grimace of pain as the powers he held we lost, strength draining from his body. His divine glow lessened, until the only remnants of his being an angel were the dim halo above his head and wings upon his back.
Ahpuch, contract completed, inhaled the divine power, relishing in the unique flavor of its feeling. So long, it had been, since he had held such power.
**Ah, I had missed this. Starting from now, as promised, I shall take on your role, your responsibilities, and ward.**
Before Azrael could respond, Ahpuch lurched forward, using his newfound power to move at a speed the powerless angel could not match. The clawed hand found it's way cleanly through skin and bone to grasp around the angel's heart.
*Wha--!*
Azrael could not finish the sentence, as he coughed up blood. Ahpuch made his decree, as the divine power demanded.
**Azrael, for your infractions upon the Laws of Father, He has deemed it fit for your destruction. Ne'er again shall ye serve Him, and ne'er shall you serve the whims of Hell.**
The demon then kissed the angel once upon each cheek upon his face, telling him earnestly,
**Goodbye, my old friend.**
Then heart was torn asunder from body, as Azrael stumbled back, grasping at the hole in his chest. The angel reached out, unable to speak through the choking blood, as the beating heart slowed. The life continued to drain, the shock permeating on his face, as the beating came to a stop, before the body followed, falling still upon the ice.
Ahpuch watched the entire process, watching with a mixture of glee and sadness. While Azrael had done them wrong, he had been a good friend, once. Ahpuch decided it would only be right to keep some reminders of his friend. The demon reached down, ripping the halo and wings from their places, grafting them to his own being. They then ripped open their own ribcage, placing the angel's heart next to their own, grafting in into their body. Reminders taken, and power absorbed, them on looked away from the decaying body to the above Earth and Heaven, giving a smile.
**Now then, let us meet this ward you have left me, Azrael.**
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m4nvytw
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lxjpxkq
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[WP] Today you just found out your roommate with strange hobbies, like knowing how to pick a lock, knows how every puzzle and cipher by heart, or how to commit tax fraud, and so many other things, wasn't a guy with ADHD, he was an ex-assassin and now you have a gun pointed at your face
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I stared at my roommate, whom I always thought was a quirky, cute ADHD dude, who knew a lot of random stuff.
Now, I was tied to a chair, because I was wrong.
"Thanks dude for using duct tape, and not a rope, you know how my skin is sensitive." , I said.
"Don't worry , bro.", he said, pointing a gun at my face.
I stared at him, and then at the gun, and sighed.
"Why the long face?
It's not a biggie that I found out you are an ex-assassin, we literally talked about cyphers, fraud, put the blame falsely on someone else, and so much more.
It's not like all of that was completely legal or safe.", I said.
He sighed.
"Yeah, but you thought I was a random weirdo, who knew all of that because of some games, or stuff I read.
Now on the other hand, you know it's real...I left that life behind, and don't want it to find me.", he said.
I stared at him, and laughed.
"You think this is funny?", he asked, getting closer with the gun.
"Yeah, it seems assassins...", I started.
"Ex-assassin!", he corrected me.
"Okay, it seems that EX-assassins, are also lacking common sense.", I said.
"What do you mean?", he asked.
"Well, you want to leave that life behind, yet you are now threatening to kill me over it, while also never really hiding all your skills...", I smiled.
He stared at me...clearly confused.
"I kill you, without leaving behind a single sign of it happening here, they will find that you went to a hike in a national park.
I will join the searching groups, and we will find some of your stuff in the middle of nowhere...", he started.
"Which is something you told us, at a D&D night...
Dude, you joined my friends' group, and by killing me, you would be automatically a suspect, not only that...you would by your own choice, return to your old ways.
Quite a dilemma you have.", I chuckled.
He sighed.
"Okay...so, if I let you go, you won't say a thing?", he asked.
Bingo. He bought it. Also...he is so naive, that it's cute.
"Don't worry dude, why would I rat out my bestie?
Also, it's cool to have someone who knows so much about laws, and their loopholes.", I chuckled.
He actually untied me there, and simply went to his room.
"Now...how should I use this...to make the most of it?", I muttered, as I went to take a shower, because while I played it off...but let's just say I wouldn't take a step out my house with how I look, and smell.
|
Time crawled to a stop as I stared down the barrel of the pistol. I was so close to it that I could make out every detail of the front end of it, could see the lands and grooves of the rifling. I calculated that it was approximately a 1:10 twist. At the far end of the barrel... God, it looked far bigger than it should... I imagined I could see the chambered bullet that would soon take my life in a violent release of expanding gasses generated by the burning gunpowder. Somewhere deep in my mind, I could see the chemical equations playing out from the moment of ignition until the projectile was forced down and out of the gun. Beautifully calculated and deadly mathematics in action.
At some point, I know not when, I had raised my hands in surrender... though if what I suspected of Jack Engles was true, it would hardly matter. Fortunately for us both, but mostly for me, my roommate had far better self-control than I had thought. After a heartrending moment of time that seemed to stretch the limits of our understanding of relativity, the pistol dropped. At first fractionally, and then eventually all the way down at the floor. "Jesus Christ, dude, you almost gave me a heart attack!" Jack said, holstering his weapon somewhere on his body where I couldn't see it.
Time accelerated back to its proper rate, the transition feeling incredibly violent and disorientating. "Jacob, what in the ACTUAL FUCK?!" I demanded, my voice rising to a hysterical scream of a pitch and volume that I am not particularly proud of. Jack winced, his hands shaking; I only called him by his full Christian name when he screwed up something fierce, like the time he broke my favorite color-changing coffee mug. "I can explain, Charlie, I swear. Look, I'm gonna grab something out of my jacket pocket, ok?" Jack told me calmly; later, I would realize he was treating me like a potential jumper too close to the ledge, though why a super spy would need such skills was beyond me. I glared at him, my breath coming in going in short, sharp gasps.
His hand went into his jacket pocket, as promised, and came back out clutching a black leather wallet. Gently, he flipped it open and showed it to me. The first thing I was able to notice was the seal on the top flap, a stylized eagle diving towards a nest of hissing vipers. Next to filter through my consciousness was the name of the agency; "Intelligence Reporting and Early Response Command", apparently a part of the National Security Agency. On the bottom flap was an ID card with his face and name on it, wearing a suit that wouldn't look out of place in the Men In Black movies, only better tailored.
"Oh my God, Jack. Are you some sort of spy or something, man?" I ask, shaking in my old man carpet slippers that had been the source of quite a bit of teasing. "Well, sort of. I also do analysis and target identification, and help plan ways to disrupt those targets' ability to target our country." Jack answered in a particular way that meant I knew he was being evasive. I pressed on, needing to know more. "That all sounds like you find people and kill them if they're a threat." I say, feeling incredibly sick to my stomach. Jack's face fell, and I knew that I was on the right path. My stomach was churning violently, and I didn't even know if I could make it to the hall bathroom, but Jack came to my rescue.
"Here, take one of these. Agency issued, powerful anti-emetic. We all carry them just in case." Jack said, retrieving a sealed packet from the locket around his neck. "You're sure it's not cyanide, right?" I say half-jokingly as I choke down the pill that was inside. "Naw, I keep that in my shoe." Jack informed me; normally, I would have taken that as a joke, but now... well, I couldn't be sure. My stomach feels better almost immediately, but that doesn't slow down the swirling thoughts in my head. Jack could see that too, I saw. "Come on, Charlie, let's go sit down. I'll explain as much as I can without revealing anything classified. Oh, and sorry about the gun thing." he said earnestly. The nonchalant way he said it was just so Jack that I immediately laughed... still sounding somewhat hysterical... and went willingly. If nothing else, I really needed to sit the hell down.
We made our way to the living room and hopped on the mismatched, batch-pad special furniture we had filled it with over the last few months of living together. I fairly collapsed into my thrift-store Lazy Boy, which had required only a single spring to restore it to working order, and Jack sat in his side-of-the-road fold-away that had required copious amounts of cleaning product to take away the smell it had come with. "So, I guess I should start in the beginning. It was at that gun range outside of Goylesburg, the one with the busted Indian statue..."
The End
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meor413
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meoijd5
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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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The cold shocks me awake.
That sort of biting cold that only really exists in fantasy settings, that chills you to the bone even through the thick fur blanket, yet somehow doesn't instantly freeze your sweat to your skin.
My surroundings are familiar, I know this place... but where?
I find the note.
Confusion becomes amusement but gives way to fear at that last line.
"All mods disabled for the 100 days"
I am doomed. I dare not even move lest my mere presence set off a chain reaction of this barely functioning world's catastrophically overtuned physics and sends my very breakfast, some bread and cheese, careening around the room before it ultimately kills me.
It was once said about this world by one of its gods "It just works".
No, Todd, it doesn't.
Not without mods.
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A bulky heavy pistol, six bullets, two cans of drink and five bullets for another gun I don’t even have. My slashed throat held together by a food container, juice box and scraps of a ragged jumper I’d pulled off the still-twitching corpse of some unlucky corporate drone. His nailgun round was still in my shoulder. Not pulling it out until I’m back on the ship. I moved through the rusted carcass of the station. Room by room. Slowly. Searching every container for anything that could be of use. Wires. Empty tins. Circuit boards. Bullet casings. Anything and everything went into my pack. Back on the ship this collection of random items could be refined into something more useful. Like bullets. Or bandages. Both of which I’d need plenty of.
The wad of rags around my knee was slowly turning from a blue-white to a rusty red as blood seeped around the gash were a quartet of nails had punched through the meat and kept on going. He’d taken a high-calibre pistol shot to the chest in return. His nailgun had a ten-shot capacity, he’d had six left in the gun and eleven on his body. Seventeen shots. I’d needed them.
The door opened to reveal four combatants, and a bright red barrel. I fired and struck the barrel. A blast of heat flooded the room as super-heated fuel flew everywhere. The stink of burning flesh and the gurgled keening of screams through molten lungs filled the air as I shut the door and waited. Nausea rose in me, mounting with each passing moment even as the screams grew quiet. It was the most efficient option. But that didn’t make it any easier.
The room beyond the hallway was some sort of employee lounge, a bunch of blue sofas, olive-green lockers, desks and server banks. The three occupants rose, reaching for guns on tables or at their side. One died from a hasty pistol shot to the pelvis. I turned to fire at another, gun clicked, out of ammo. I dropped to the ground, nails screaming through the air above me as I swapped to my own nailgun. The heavy chunk of it firing was followed by the wet thunk of impact and a sharp gasp of pain. Three more and he was down. The third simply stood for a moment. Gun clicking as though he could manufacture nails out of sheer desire to kill. I raised my hands carefully. “If you put that down and let me get what I’m here for I won’t hurt you.” I said. Hoping. Praying that he wouldn’t make me kill him. He responded by rushing me with a feral bellow of combat rage, and dropped with a nail in his forehead.
I searched the lockers, found nothing but a pulsating mass of flesh and some long expired foods. Digging through a desk located the tablet, the data on it being my whole reason for being here. I thumbed my communicator, sending three quick bursts. Objective found. It buzzed. I answered.
Jane’s clipped, cold voice crackled through “Good job. We’ll pick you up at the elevator.”
It went silent. I limped my way to the elevator. Back through the drying puddles of blood, the miasma of spilled insides and immolated flesh. Tried not to think about how easily it could have been me laying there. If I’d been slower. If they’d been luckier. As the elevator juddered it’s way up the reality of the situation started sinking in.
Day one. Survived. Day two… just begun.
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m34hr9j
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m34hqb4
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[WP] "Ensign, in spacecraft people breathe and sweat. It collects on everything, and without regular sanitizing it smells." "Yeah, so..." "They're lax in maintenance and cleaning. If they're descendents of the original crew, and they've been here 200 years, why does this ship have no smell at all?"
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The patrons of the ship hadn't noticed it, but Officer Daniels was sweating more than usual. Daniels sweat a lot at the best of times but at the moment he was positively drenched. This mean that, even as he delivered his report summary to the captain in his usual cool tone, he was making Ensign Williams nervous.
"Thank you again for your time," the gunnery sergeant who'd met them at the airlock said. "We look forward to the official results once you've returned home."
"Trust me, we're looking forward to getting home," Daniels said as he closed the log on his data pad. "Last check of the tour so me and the ensign here are both looking forward to some solid ground."
That was wrong, and Williams almost corrected him, but something caught in his throat. Like instinct was telling him to shut up for a minute.
A polite laugh from the gunnery officer. Then they were alone. Daniels turned heel back down the gangway without saying a word.
Curiosity pushed past instinct. "Sir. I—"
"Eyes forward. It's rude to discuss a case while we're still on the ship," Daniels said. Williams almost didn't catch it, but the officer was staring at the gangway cameras as he spoke, watching them in the corner of his eye. "Come on, we're almost done the tour. Let's get home to your girlfriend."
That was it, that was the signal. If there was one thing that the two had bonded over, it was Williams' fiancé. That was enough to shut up the ensign for the walk.
Once he was shoving the questions down, the walk was suddenly eerily quiet. Ships were near silent in the dead of space. The only soundtrack was the persistent hum of quantum stabilizers and perpetual lights. That said, people were rarely alone in a ship. Space was ironically expensive in space, which meant an empty corridor felt wrong, like someone had stolen the people that were supposed to be there.
They rounded the one corner and saw the door to the airlock. Daniels redoubled their pace, dropping any pretense of 'polite speed.' Williams followed.
Behind them, at the other end of the gangway, the door to the ship proper opened.
Williams looked back.
"Eyes forward kid."
"Yessir," Williams answered with all the respect he could muster in the muddled fear.
Twenty steps to the airlock. A camera in the top right of the hallway adjusted and focused on them.
Ten steps. Someone called out, just far enough away that they could ignore it for the time being.
There. Daniels hit the button to the airlock, and a blaring siren filled the hallway just as the person behind them started sprinting.
The door opened. Daniels shoved Williams inside and slammed the 'emergency decontamination' button before he'd squeezed through the door himself.
Slam. Hiss.
"Sanitization routine in progress. Please stay still. Close your eyes and do not open your mouth for the entirety of this process. Thank you."
Williams closed their eyes and realized they'd been holding their breath. Air blasted from the vents below. Then cool mist washed over them. Someone pounded on the door in perfect rhythm with Williams' heartbeat.
The door connected to their ship opened. "Sanitization process complete. You may behind boarding."
Daniels hit the reset button on the airlock before walking to the ship. As soon as his foot touched friendly sheet metal he gasped in relief.
"Sir," Williams said as they followed. "Respectfully. What the hell?"
The airlock door closed as the Officer caught their breath. "Ensign, in spacecraft people breathe and sweat. It collects on everything, and without regular sanitizing it smells."
"Yeah. So?"
"The last part of the check on that ship showed that they hadn't done cleaning measures for more than 50 years. If they're descendants of the original crew, why the fuck did that ship have no smell at all?"
"I don't know Sir. Why?"
"I don't know either, and I sure as fuck wasn't staying on there long enough to find out."
|
“Sir, what are you implying?” Kate held the side of her helmet, as if she were trying to force the communicator further into her ear, trying to precisely hear whatever words came from her commanding officer. In her initial inspection of the ship, everyone appeared normal, now her heartbeat quickened, wondering if there was a something nefarious going on.
“Nothing until I have more evidence. Unlike you, ensign, I don’t make judgements so hastily. That’s what separates us. If you want to move up in the ranks, you’ll have to learn to have more critical thinking. Are they in the common area of the ship? If so, get Cactus two to run a vitals scan. I need to know if there are any deformities among the inhabitants.” Captain Henderson muttered.
“Yes, sir. They are all in the common area. Um, quick question sir, why is it called Cactus two?”
“Cause the guy that used to look over that line of ships was a prick. But we couldn’t outright call him a prick, so we named his ships the cactuses.” Henderson cackled, locking the common room, making sure none of the inhabitants could leave until the scan was completed.
Kate didn’t find the name as amusing as Henderson did, getting confused by the higher ups petty insults. Isn’t that the sort of behaviour their squadron usually got scolded for? “Cactus two, we need a vital scan. Check the common area. Tell us if there are any deformities among the crew. Got it, thank you.” She ended the communications and looked to her captain. “They should be done in ten minutes.”
“Alright. So, they say they are the descendants of the original crew? The timing would match up, but how are they still alive? See, these are all things you should have looked into.”
“Well, they had stasis pods, sir. I assumed when the last of their previous generation died out, they froze themselves. Perhaps they didn’t want to die knowing only space? I wouldn’t want to die only knowing the smelly interior of a spaceship.”
“In this case, it isn’t a smelly interior. Something you again, overlooked.” Henderson said, unwilling to let that go. Kate lowered her head, shamefully staring at her white space boots.
Kate couldn’t shake the feeling that the smell wasn’t a big factor. Something in the back of her mind telling her that Henderson was just being a grumpy old man, but she couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t a factor, at least not at the moment. “So, what do we do until the scans are done? Want to hear a joke?”
“No.”
“Um, ok. Did you catch the game last night?” Kate asked, rocking on her heels, trying to think of something they could talk about while they waited for the scan to finish.
“No. I have work to do. I can’t slack off and watch silly games.” He commented, already picturing the medal he was going to get for this. Henderson, the hero that stopped the alien parasite threat. Henderson’s keen sense of deduction sparing their planet. Maybe he would get that statue he always wanted?
As they stood in the halls of the ship, Kate scratched her helmet. It was a nervous habit she had developed. As a child, she always scratched her face when things got awkward, and since her face was often covered for work, she now scratched her helmet. As she scratched herself, her finger hit the button on the side of her helmet, causing her to gag.
“GAAAKKKK. WAAAAAH.” The noise she made horrifying the captain, with Henderson half expecting an alien to burst from her visor. She dropped to her knees, holding her throat in agony. “GAAAK BAAAAD.” She tried to cover her nose, only to smack her hands against her helmet.
Henderson pointed his gun at her, taking a few steps back. “Kate? What’s going on?” Henderson’s stern voice breaking as he glanced back at the door, wondering if he should make a run for it. Statue be damned, he thought. Not wanting to get his face hugged by any alien creatures.
Finally, Kate found what she was looking for, hitting the switch, able to breathe again. “Ew. So gross.”
“Kate? What’s gross?” He kept his distance from her, still cautious about the potential alien threat onboard the ship. “Are you still you, Kate?”
“Yeah. Blah. I can still taste the sweat.” She cringed. “Sir, I think I found out why we can’t smell anything.”
“Huh? What do you mean? There is nothing to smell, that’s why we can’t smell anything.”
“Sir, we had our air filters on. Turn yours off and you’ll see what I mean.”
Henderson paled under his helmet. Had he forgotten about their air filters? They were a recent addition to the suit, and something that a veteran like himself didn’t have the luxury of using when he used to explore ships. He turned his filter off and dropped to his knees. “Sweet holy fire, BLLLLACCKKASFS.” He kicked at the floor, scratching at his helmet until Kate hit the button for him, turning his filter back on. Henderson coughed, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. “Ew.”
“Told you. Guess that means they aren’t aliens. Good thing we didn’t embarrass ourselves, right?” Kate helped Henderson to his feet, patting his back as he stood by her side, helping him clear his throat. As Kate patted him, Henderson thought of the potential excuses he could use. The captain trying to find an explanation for why he didn’t realize that sooner. After a lot of thinking, he accepted his defeat.
“Guess even captains make mistakes. At least no one got hurt.” After another minute, Cactus two gave the all clear, allowing them to continue their inspection. “Hey, Kate. Keep this between us, ok?”
“Keep what between us, sir?”
“You know the-“
“I know. It’s alright, secrets safe with me, sir. Promise me you’ll stop being so high and mighty, though. Even captains are human. It’s ok to be one of us, every now and then. We would respect you more for it.”
“I’ll take that into consideration.” Henderson nodded, taking her words to heart. Even he had to admit it would be nice to have some friends. All the other captains were too much like him. All worried about prestige and class. Something the juniors never worried about. It would be nice to have people like that around him. With that in mind, he welcomed the new ship into their port with Kate, ready to make an effort to get closer to his crew.
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
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k98qwme
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k98ibfx
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[WP] In a world where at age 10 you pick your superpower, you picked the seemingly harmless one. Yet now at 26 you are considered the most powerful person in the world
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I chose the ability to take pain away. This resulted in having legions of followers willing to die for me, kill for me, give me everything they have.
When I made the choice my friend broke her arm and I thought it would be a nice thing to do for her, it was, but it didn’t just take the aches of sore muscles and bones, it took all her pain. ALL OF IT. The pain in her soul from her lost grand parents, the pain from seeing the school bully, the deep pain we all feel daily as a result of living in constant fear of the unknown. I take it all!
My power takes away people’s free will; free will is predicated from pain; pain is our motivator; taking away their pains takes away their fear of pain, ultimately taking away who and what they are.
Now at 26, I have legions of followers; soldiers; thugs if you will, that have no fear and are willing to do as I want, and what I want is to burn it all to the ground.
I have never been able to take my pains away.
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I picked such a simple power, I doubt little 10 year old me even knew what it meant. Now... now they all fear me. Every one of them cowering in fear in the mere presence of my aura... This day was different though, this day, after 16 long years, something happened that I shall never forget.
I was doing my job, fighting villains, as most of my days go. I had just defeated Nemesis and was on my way to the heroes association to hand him in and suddenly, darkness fell around me, the sky went pitch black and my vision was reduced to only a few metres in front of me. I whipped my head around, looking for who could be responsible for this, then the darkness began to move, collecting around a single point, forming a figure.
"So you're the one they call Null?" she asked in playful yet terrifying voice.
"Who are you!?" I yelled, panicked and confused.
"I am Darkess," she said as she walked towards me, darkness pulsing around her like a void.
"What do you want?" I said, trying to regain my composure, "a-and how are you still using your power?"
"I want *you*," she said calmly, the final word echoing through me, "you've stood in my way for too long Null, either you choose join me or I'll make you."
"Why not just kill me?" I nervously asked, confused at why she was so desperate to have me on her side.
"You're unique, a one of a kind, and the only person who doesn't die at the sight of me," she said, saying the last part quietly, almost sadly.
I saw a deep, pained look in her eyes, as though she had been through a lot, but I didn't give in to them, she was more than an SSS class threat, maybe even an omni class threat. This was no time to play around, I had to act, and I had to act fast.
"So what will it be Null? Will you come quietly?"
I had no time left, my secondary ability - an ability granted to only 1 in a million - would have to do, after all, if I'm too weak to nullify her power then it's the only option I have.
Darkess walked closer, and closer towering over me like some cruel god of darkness (although, after thinking about it for a while, she actually might be as powerful as a God.
"So?" She whispered in my ear, and I could feel her impatience growing with every passing moment.
"I-" I stepped closer, reaching out my hand, "I- I'm sorry." A jolt of electricity shot through my hand, bridging the gap between us, penetrating the void that surrounded her, and making her collapse to the ground, unconscious. The darkness dissipated almost immediately, but Darkess got back up in no time. She looked thoughtfully at me before saying one thing,
"You're full of surprises Null, but one day you *will* be mine, and next time, I won't fall for such underhanded tricks," she said as she staggered backwards, clearly still affected by the lightning, and a patch of emptiness opened up, swallowing her before disappearing.
At this moment, I sit in a maximum security facility, guarded by the elite of the elite, all commanded to protect me at all costs. I was know as the hero association's trump card, the one they sent to deal with the worst of the worst, but now there's someone who can best me, and they're scared of losing me, or even worse, me turning on them. And right now, all I can think about is her, I don't know what to do, I don't know what I can do. Maybe I should have taken her offer, after all... she seemed to care, they only fear.
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j38g3kk
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j37cewv
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[WP]You reincarnated in a fantasy world, but when you go check your stats, everything seems to be really average, until you put your eyes on charisma, that is on 200 points
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As I wake, I hear moaning. Not the usual moans of agony I’ve become used to, punctuated with screams and gunfire. Soft, constant moaning. From all around me.
It’s pitch dark. My head is pounding. I lever myself up onto an elbow, and realise that I am no longer lying on blood-infused sand and volcanic ash of the Iwo Jima beach. Beneath me is stone.
Had the mortar blast that knocked me out collapsed me into a cave? Had one of my fellow marines dragged me to safety?
I feel for the lighter in my combat pants pocket, and realise that I’m not wearing them anymore. Instead of the familiar heavy layer of cargo trouser, I am wearing something soft, skin-tight.
Tights?
I run my hand over my shirt. I feel ruffles, under a velvet-pile jerkin.
A jerkin?
“Command: Simulation pause”, I say. Nothing happens. I squeeze my fingers together, then let them explode outward into a spread hand. The menu comes up, but all the options that would take me out of the game are disabled.
The moans float towards me, from all directions. I begin to feel a seed of panic.
“Ok,” I say to myself. “Ok. Command Info Panel”.
This time my command works as expected. A ball of light floats into existence in front of me, and then expands into a round, semi-transparent screen.
*Name: Sir Roger Dragonthrust*
*Ok*, I think to myself. I must have somehow switched to a different simulation. *Fuck*.
It had taken me months to get to Iwo Jima. No shortcuts for me, I’d played the whole WW2 Pacific campaign, being bitten by bugs day after day as I’d suffered the nightly surprise attacks on Guadalcanal, feeling my feet rot in the constant rain on Peleliu during the goddamn Operation Stalemate saga. And now, just as I get to Iwo Jima, some glitch has taken me out of the campaign, and landed me in some goddamn Hobbit game.
The moans are louder now. No, not louder. Just, more. A lot more.
I check my bio settings. Pain is still set to *full* - Getting shot on a beach at full pain stung like a wasp sting. It’s a hardcore way to play but a great incentive to take it seriously. I like realism, and if pain is anything, it’s real.
I glance at my stats. *Average strength*, I see. *8 Dex, 9 Intelligence, 7 Wisdom, 200-*
I do a double take. *200 Charisma*?
Now I know the game is broken. Charisma scores didn’t go to 200. Charisma 9 meant you would occasionally get invited to a party. Charisma 18 meant that you could charm pretty much anyone, raise and lead an army. Charisma 19 meant that you were destined for President or supreme dictator.
Charisma 200? What would that even do?
It would be beyond charm. Beyond hero worship. People would have their personalities wiped away under the blaze of your personality.
They would mindlessly follow you. Heck, at 200 they would probably try to physically devour you out of a titanic primal desire to be close to you.
A glitch like this would probably turn the entire world into a mass of seething zombies, everyone of them consumed by no thought except the thought of you.
The moans are very loud now. Somewhere nearby, I hear a window break.
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Our hero wakes on a bustling street corner torn out of Victorian myth, the last echoes of the *Isekai* truck still thundering through him. His eyes are very tightly shut and he is screaming, so it’s the smell that gets him first. Human waste mixes with industrial effluent; the air has taken on the thick, tarry feel of coal.
Slowly, he stops screaming.
Slowly, our hero opens his eyes.
He is staring up at a roughly forty-five degree angle—straight into the cab of the truck that killed him—and so the first thing that he sees is the airship in the distance.
The distended silhouette of a zeppelin emerges from a cloud bank in the smog stained sky. The balloon is massive, half a mile long or more, and painted with a brilliant Union Jack. Living quarters hang below it, shaped like the sail-less body of an ancient man ‘o war. A cloud of smaller airships flit around it, dolphins chasing after a battleship at sea.
A sudden clatter; our hero leaps back out of the road. He stares at his surroundings shocked. Men walk the streets in tophats and tailcoats, outrageously mustached. Old men carry canes whose heads are carved in the shapes of gilded phoenixes and gryphons, cobras, vipers, adders, eagles. Young men wear epauletted jackets and carry curving cavalry sabers. At the end of the street a duel has just concluded. Doctors attend a wounded victim with expressions of acute distaste. The man’s skin has gone a pallid white. His pistol lays beside him, stuck barrel first in a bed of camelia flowers.
And the women! Our hero gawks at girls drowned in petticoats, corsets laced up so tight it’s like they don’t have ribs. The largest hats he has ever seen flow by him in an wave of *haute couture* whose vibrant colors are as vivid in this coal stained city as the scarlet splashes of the fading duelist’s blood. Organic horses share the streets with sleek clockwork steeds, drawing carriages that disgorge fine ladies by the dozens. Clouds of embroidered silk flounce towards their tea.
Our hero begins to laugh. He’s seen this show before. Somewhere a goddess lurks, watching him. Or perhaps he has already met her, and the first step in his quest is simply to remember. He tries to think back, to part the black curtain that lays between his current surroundings and the flashing headlights of the *Isekai* truck.
If there’s a goddess there he doesn’t find her. But he does discover something else.
Like all good RPG’s, he has stats.
His intelligence is disappointingly low, back on Earth he’d always thought himself so clever, but apparently the *Isekai* truck has concussed him. He’s lost almost as many braincells as the football players at his high school. His strength is tolerable (he has excellent calves), wisdom nonexistent, agility, speed, and endurance—all crap. But there, buried at the end of this stream of useless attributes is charisma.
It reads “two hundred.”
That seems like a rather large number.
Our hero rubs his eyes. After reading such a brutal assessment of himself he does not feel particularly heroic. He is short and squat, his body strangely misshapen by the hours spent in his computer chair, looking somewhat a viscous liquid that, poured into a lightweight plastic bag, has achieved a tenuous sort of homeostasis. He rubs a hand through prematurely balding hair, scratching at the scattered stubble that has refused to grow into a beard.
A thought occurs to him.
Our hero grabs the nearest gentleman firmly by the upper arm.
“Give me your sword,” he says.
“Why certainly!” the man replies, walrus mustache bouncing on his upper lip. “I should think that you might want the belt too.”
“Yeah,” our hero says. “Sure.”
The gentleman buckles sword and belt around our hero’s waste. Our hero rubs his eyes again. He is feeling somewhat stunned, no doubt another aftershock of the truck that killed him.
A fine lady passes by. An enormous brimmed hat swoops off her head, tied beneath her chin with a soft pink ribbon. A full bouquet of red, red roses lies scattered along its rim, and beneath its shade her skin is clear as porcelain, only the sharp lines of her jaw and a hint of cheekbones of visible.
“What’s your name?” our hero asks.
“Lady Evelyn Coleridge,” she says. “Though you may call me Evie.”
“T-thanks,” our hero stutters.
Unable to gaze upon her any longer, our hero looks up into the sky again. The airship hangs there, its Union Jack fading in and out of view in the twisting currents of the smog.
“Come here,” our hero commands.
And the airship begins, ponderously, to turn.
“Well, I say!” the first gentleman exclaims. “I should think it will be quite a while coming here. What do you say we nip over to club for a spot of brandy? The old chaps will love to hear about this! I wonder where she’ll land?”
“Can Ms. Coleridge come?” our hero asks.
The gentleman’s head rears back. His ponderous belly jumps as he laughs.
“A lady at the club!” he roars.
Lady Coleridge appears over our hero’s shoulder, smelling so shockingly of roses.
“Some men are rather…fragile,” she whispers.
For the first time in a long time—dating from far before the thunder of the *Isekai* truck—our hero smiles. All along the street, people have begun pointing towards the approaching airship. There really is no place for it to land. Our hero decides he doesn’t care. Perhaps they’ll drop a rope. Perhaps he’ll commandeer a park. He has the better part of an hour to decide.
“To the club,” our hero says. “I think if I ask nicely they might make an exception.”
r/TurningtoWords
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lgqq2ba
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lgdwygi
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[WP] You squealed as the heroes unmasked and kissed in front of the roaring crowds. Wait…you recognize their faces…that’s YOUR best friend and YOUR girlfriend/boyfriend.
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"Hello and welcome back to Good Friday Seattle! As promised before the break, we have a special guest. A former lover of the super hero Magnetica who recently revealed her secret identity and relationship with Skylar Storm. We have all now been briefed of their normal names Matty Hernandez-Smith and Skie Storm. So go ahead and introduce yourself and explain your relationship with Matty."
"Hi Regina, I'm Chris, and I would say me and Matty weren't exactly lovers per se."
"What do you mean? Didn't this betrayal come as a shock? I do feel sorry for you to find out that not only is your girlfriend a superhero, but she is dating your best friend as well, the very same woman who introduced her to you!"
"Well, I have known Skie since we were in grade school, and heck, I was the one to tell her she's a lesbian. *Her* family was ok with it. But Matty's, well her family is more conservative. You see, I wasn't introduced to me as Skie's friend, but as Skie's girlfriend, but there was no way she could date her openly. So they asked me to be her beard. Do you kno-"
"Oh, so you were her beard? That is most interesting! So
What made her change her mind and reveal she's a lesbian to not only her family, but the entire world?"
"Well, simply put, her parents became huge fans of the LGBTQ+ community when their baby, Matty's younger br- I mean sister came out as trans 2 months ago. So she popped the news to them, and they already knew, but didn't want to pressure her and were accepting of her closeted status. Turns out they weren't really homophobic as Matty had feared for the 3 years I was her beard."
"Ok, this is so interesting, but our time runs short, so I have but one last question. When did you find out she was a super?"
"Oh that, yesterday along with everyone else. Even though Skie's name was obvious, I guess I was just oblivious."
"And that is all the time we have for now, next up, and interview with Mr. and Mrs. Storm, Skie's parents!"
(I decided to do a more wholesome approach to it, there was a lot of edgy here and I needed a little bit of wholesome to balance it out.)
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Phoenix’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the Knight clad in red kissing a mage cloaked in dark blue. He watched the heroes kissing in the middle of a crowd right after defeating a demon General. It didn’t make any sense. Why were his best friend and girlfriend the heroes? And why, WHY, were they kissing? His vision went grey. Anger, jealousy, and betrayal took control of him. Sure he wasn’t a powerful mage or a valiant knight. But didn’t she love him? Hadn’t his best friend, Jackson, JUST help him pick out an engagement ring earlier this week?
Moving without thought, Phoenix pushed through the crowd. He made his way right up to the dead Demon, ring in hand. They didn’t even notice him, absorbed in each other. Ignoring the commotion he caused, he threw the ring at the heroes. Or at least, he tried to. As his arm cocked back, pain lanced up his side. Stumbling, he watched his arm tumble to the heroes’ feet. What happened? What is this pain? He stared at where his arm was supposed to be. Only a stump remained. He could only stare at the stump. The demon beside him gave one last roar before dusting into nothing.
“Phoenix? PHEONIX!” Angela cried out as his vision started to fade. Suddenly weak from blood loss Phoenix fell to his knees. Angela rushed over and took his head into her lap. “Please, Please don’t die. Not like this.” She croaked through tears. He tried to push her away, but his stump simply twitched. Filled with rage and betrayal, the last thing Phoenix saw was Jackson. He was holding the severed arm in shock. With a final breath he gave into the darkness, a dark violet void.
Floating. Phoenix is floating. All around him a dreamlike void holds him, emotions ripping him apart. Rage, Betrayal, Hatred, Regret swirl through his mind as he is forced to watch his death over and over again. Each loop only served to drive the spike of betrayal deeper. He had been best friends with Jackson since childhood, sharing everything from the moment they met. Memories of those times flash through his mind as he watches Jackson kissing Angela once again. And Angela… He loved her. They met at a cafe and had hit it off immediately. Memories of nights spent staying up sharing their dreams and hopes for the future flit through his mind as he once again watches the demon rip his arm off with a flick of its tail.
Revenge he must have revenge, the void whispers. He thought he finally found people he could trust. People that wouldn’t betray him, wouldn’t LEAVE him. Another spike of pain and betrayal shoot through his soul as he watches Angela holding his broken form. As the scene starts from the beginning, the heroes unmasking and leaning in to kiss, something inside him breaks. Deep down in his core an ancient bond snaps as a power consumes him. “They will pay” are the last thoughts Phoenix has before his mind gives out.
He woke in a moonlit alley, propped against a wall as a drunkard would be. Head pounding, he flexes his right hand into a fist. The hand that had been missing moments ago now responds to him as if it’d never been lost. Didn’t he die? What had happened and how did he end up here? Pain sears through his head in a flash of dark violet as memories just out of reach pass by.
As the pain dissipates, he opens his new hand to find the ring. The ring he was to give Angela, the ring that Jackson helped him choose, the ring that had a modest jewel the same blue as her eyes. Sudden anger overtaking him, Phoenix throws the ring down the alley. A flash of heat fills his hand as the ring reappears in it, as if never thrown. Over and over he tries discard the ring, but each time it reappears in his hand. Staring at the reminder of betrayal he notices its not quite the same ring. The bright sliver band is now inlaid with dark, almost black, purple tendrils that connect at the jewel. And the jewel is no longer a bright blue, now a light violet with the same dark tendrils swirling within it.
Slipping the ring into his pocket, Phoenix makes his way into the street. Walking along the cobblestone, the fog in his mind starts to lift and a few things become clear. He died and was resurrected, some kind of power is binding the ring to him, and his hatred for this world has been born anew. Ticking these off on his fingers, a plan started to form in the back of his mind. A plan for revenge, a plan to take from those that dare take from him, a plan that resonates with the power in the ring. Dark mist swirls around him as he makes his way into the night.
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kod8jry
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koch3iv
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[WP] So, you're probably wondering why I called you in. I'll cut to the chase. Firstly, we want to promote you for your exceptional work. But... and please don't be alarmed - you should know that technically, no one who works here is "human". Except for you.
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"Was it ... Was it a secret?"
Ben's manager stared at him in shock. "You knew??" Ben raised an eyebrow. "I mean, yeah. You all add the word 'human' to everything. You'll say things like 'let's go for human drinks,' or 'what human food are you ordering for lunch?' Honestly it would be more surprising if you were humans." His manager's face was a picture of confusion.
"We just call it food, or drinks. No one thinks we're about to go drink dog water or something." Recognition flashed in his eyes, and the manager nodded his head in approval. "This is exactly why you're the perfect fit for this job. You humans have spectacular brains," he said. "For thinking! Not eating," he added, hastily.
"Ok. Not loving that defensiveness, but go on. What are you planning? Want to take over the planet?" The manager held up his hands. "No. No. Nothing like that... Unless you... Wanted us to." Ben scratched his nose. "You probably couldn't do a worse job than the people currently running things. I would have a few conditions, though." The manager beckoned, and Ben continued.
"First, I would prefer it if you did not enslave my species." Mr. Manager made a face that Ben likened to having someone fart directly into ones mouth. "Slavery is a uniquely human invention. We would be incapable of inflicting such cruelty." Ben smiled. "Wonderful." Ben paused.
"Second, you'll need to hire a private army."
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“Listen,” Ben said. “The pay is great, but if one of those things touches me, I could die.”
“Who are you calling ‘thing’?” replied the manager.
“I didn’t know you were —“
“I already told you. No one here is human.” The manager began rolling up his sleeves, and Ben saw the scales beneath his shirt. They shimmered in the dim light. They had a copper tone, and appeared as if they’d just been waxed.
“The skin you see is rubber and prosthetic,” he explained. “We specifically need a human for this position. I didn’t want to frighten you, and thought this suit might help you feel more… comfortable.”
Ben took a step back.
The manager noticed Ben eyeing the door. “Don’t worry, you’re safe here.”
But as he tried to turn the knob, Ben realized it was locked. “You locked it?”
“It’s for your safety — please, have a seat.”
Ben reluctantly pulled a chair. “I don’t understand. Why do you need a human for this position?”
“It’s complicated. New laws. Diversified work force. All that boring stuff.”
Ben twisted uncomfortably in his seat. After a moment, he noticed a burning sensation beneath his butt. He rose and realized he’d sat in a puddle of toxic green slime, which was still bubbling and clinging to his flesh.
“What THE — ?”
He frantically grabbed some tissue papers and began wiping it off.
“Apologies,” the manager said. “I must’ve forgot to clean that.”
“Forgot? You told me to sit here!”
The manager rolled his sleeves back down, as if to appear more human again. “Very sorry. It’s common for our species to leave discharge when sitting for too long.”
“Discharge? That stuff burned through my pants! It could’ve killed me.”
The manager looked calmly back at him. “A hazard of the job I suppose. From now on, you should be careful to look before you sit.”
“I don’t want the job,” Ben said. No job was worth risking his life over, not even one that paid so well. “I want to leave — NOW.”
“What if we offer you a pay raise?”
Ben paused and considered it for a moment. The pain in his bottom was so excruciating he could hardly think straight. “How much?”
“North of $10,000.”
“A year?” he exclaimed.
“A month,” the manager said, smiling.
Ben’s eyes widened. Suddenly his burning sensation felt more bearable. “What’s the position?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” said the manager. “Sign here and you’re hired.”
“That’s it?” Ben asked. “No questions for me first?”
“How soon can you start?”
Before he knew it, Ben had a pen in his hand and was signing. In a few minutes, he’d be making more money than he’d ever made before. The manager watched patiently as he went through the papers. Finally he set the pen down.
“Do you know what you just signed?” asked the manager.
“Job forms?”
The manager laughed manically. “You humans are so foolish. You just waved all your rights away without realizing it!”
“What do you mean?” Ben asked.
But before he realized what was happening, the manager had ripped off his prosthetic skin to revealed his true form. His head was dark and scabby, oozing with green slime. His eyes were narrow and red, and when he opened his mouth to speak, Ben saw crooked rows of teeth.
“You belong to ussss now,” the creature hissed, and lurched at Ben with slimy claws.
Ben jumped away. Before it could reach for him again, there was a loud bang on the door. The door fell inward, hitting the ground with a thud. Dozens of men entered the room with guns and hazmat suits.
“I have a secret of my own,” Ben said as the creature slid into the corner of the room, flicking its tongue at the humans.
“You’re under arrest for the illegal operation of enslaving and eating humans,” Ben said.
“I’m innosssent,” hissed the creature. “I’ll give you a raissse. Pleasssse, let me go!”
“Too late,” Ben said. “And by the way, you owe me a pair of pants.”
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miu42ui
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mit3vgl
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[WP] You’re a knight with a small pet dragon you raised from birth. They can translate what other dragons say. Instead of slaying another dragon for the princess, you attempt to settle this diplomatically
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"How old are you?" the great black dragon peered intently at the much smaller dragon that stood between it and the armored human.
"I'm twenty." Puffer replied calmly. "And yourself, Great One?"
"Three hundred and fifty." the black wrinkled its nose and glanced at the human again. "You're a bit young to have a pet, don't you think? And where is your mother? I'm certain she must be worried about you."
"Well...long story short..." Puffer replied, "My mother is dead, died before I hatched. Apparently she got into a fight with a wizard about something or other and they ended up crashing a mountain."
"Oh, right! I remember that!" the big black dragon shifted its bulk slightly. "Shildara Silverfang was your mother? Oh, too bad you never got to know her, she was a delight."
"Thank you for saying," Puffer dipped his head slightly. "She seems to have been well-regarded by many, including the humans who knew her name."
"Oh, where are my manners? I'm Drazlin the Black." Drazlin waved a sword-sized talon at the human again. "What's your pet's name?"
"My name is Puffer, mighty Drazlin. His name is Vandrin of Gallowen, and uh...he's not really my pet..." Puffer fluttered his wings uncomfortably.
"Oh. Planning to eat him, are you?" Drazlin sized the human up. "Make sure you get him out of the armor first, otherwise it'll get stuck in your teeth."
"He found me not long after I hatched and he sort of adopted me." Puffer glanced at Vandrin and said something that Drazlin couldn't understand, then he returned his attention to the mighty black dragon. "So...no...I don't expect I'll be eating him."
"Well, that explains the name, I suppose." Drazlin grunted.
There was a long pause as the two dragons assessed each other. Drazlin the Black was roughly the size of a barn while Puffer wasn't much larger than a cart horse. If there was going to be a fight, it was going to be decidedly one-sided.
"So...how can I help you, little fellow?" Drazlin lazily scratched his side with a hind claw.
"Well...uh..." Puffer mantled his wings. "Not *accusing* you of anything...but we were told that you have a Princess here. And her family would like her returned."
"Oh, the Gods are good!" Drazlin perked up immediately. "*PLEASE* take her with you!"
"Sorry?" Puffer blinked at the larger creature and folded his wings. "You don't *want* her here?"
"The hell would I want that for?" Drazlin fluttered his wings. "I don't speak Human and she never shuts up!"
Puffer glanced at Vandrin and they exchanged words. After a few moments the Knight nodded and sat down on a rock, watching the two dragons with interest.
"If you don't mind..." Puffer adjusted himself as well. "Would you like to explain the matter?"
"Oh, gladly." Drazlin agreed. "I was flying home from the coast and I got a little peckish. So I stopped by that human settlement and snatched up a cow for lunch. There I was just enjoying my meal when suddenly a gang of humans comes riding up on horses, bellowing and pointing swords at me. Well, unlike your mother, no offense, I don't have time for their foolishness, so I flew away. I get home, and that's when the human female slips off my back and starts mewling at me."
Drazlin glanced back over his shoulder at the deeper recesses of his cave.
"I tried shooing her away, but she wouldn't leave!" Drazlin snorted in irritation. "Tried ignoring her, hoping that would give her the hint, but she just made herself a nest near my hoard!"
"Well, at least you didn't eat her." Puffer sighed.
"Eh," Drazlin shook his head. "Never really got a taste for humans. And, if I'm being honest, they're just too cute for me to eat."
"Yeah, I can see that." Puffer agreed with a glance at Vandrin. "So, just to be clear...you don't mind if we take her?"
"Mind?" Drazlin snorted. "I'll give you a reward to get her out of here! I don't want her spawning a litter or whatever."
******************************************************
"I *demand* you release me!" the Princess shouted as Vandrin tied her to the saddle of the spare horse he had brought. "I am a ***PRINCESS*** and I won't be handled like a sack of grain!"
"Understood, Your Highness." Vandrin nodded agreeably as he checked the knots. "I'll have you back to the castle in a few days."
"No, you most certainly will *not*!" she bellowed. "What you *will* do is release me as I have commanded!"
"Well, unfortunately Princess," Vandrin swung into his saddle. "Your father the King still sits on the throne, and he said to bring you back."
"I am ***NOT*** getting married!" the Princess yelled again as Vandrin led the horse down the mountain track.
"Not to me, you aren't." Vandrin agreed readily. "Beyond that I cannot say."
"You know," Puffer sighed. "At times like this, I wish I didn't speak Human either."
"You and me both, old friend. You and me both." Vandrin rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the squalling Princess.
It was going to be a long ride back to the castle.
edit: typo
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Knights saving princesses from dragons.
The age old tale, isn't it?
I am also in this business, and my reputation is at the top of this industry, because I have a secret.
I have raised a dragon since birth, and now, a small dragonling, it helps me translate to the dragons what I am saying.
Why fight with house sized enemies, when we can talk?
Anyway, most of the time, they fancy either the jewelry, the smell of the princess, or they are attracted by the attention the people give to that princess.
Yeah, it's a bit interesting, but usually it's not out of malicious intent, if you consider greed a neutral sort of force.
But today, today I think I found an interesting one.
"What do you mean she kidnapped the princess to save her?" I asked Laurel, my dragon.
He shrugged, and transmitted again the kidnapper's message.
"So you want to tell me that you felt her desperation, so you...kidnapped her?" I asked.
Laurel translated for me, and I saw the huge dragon nod.
I sighed.
"Could you please show me the girl?
Allow me to talk with her, let's see what going on?" I asked.
Laurel translated, and the huge dragon shook her head.
Great, I knew it wasn't going to be easy.
"What did she say?" I asked Laurel.
Laurel transmitted the message.
Great.
The princess has been abused and is afraid of other humans...or at least that's what the dragon says.
"Look, I don't want to call you a liar, but come on.
Give me something, ask her to just shout or something, or at least come into view so I can see that she's alive." I said.
Laurel translated, and the dragon roared.
A few moments later, from a side-cave came out a young girl, shyly peeking at us.
It was the princess.
I nodded towards her.
"Princess, are you alright?" I asked.
She nodded.
I could see how she hugged herself, and how she was barely looking at me.
The dragon was right.
I sighed.
"Princess, if I say to the king you are dead, will you be okay living here?
Or maybe leaving to another kingdom?" I asked.
Her eyes lit up, and she nodded.
Gee, her family life must be worse than mine was.
"Okay, thank you for the cooperation, and sorry if I made you upset." I said to the princess, and the dragon.
Laurel translated my message, and with a gentle nod from the huge dragon, we left.
Another mission, another failure because the requester can't come clean from the get-go.
But that's the life, now...
How should I put this to also satisfy the king's ego?
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jfuznii
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jfukjsy
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[WP] You would think that the God of Death has no respect for life. However, nothing could be farther from the truth. In fact, out of all the gods, it is the God of Death who has the most respect for life, for all too often have they been forced to watch mortals throw their lives away.
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"Wait, am I dead?"
"Well seeing as we're staring at your dead body I'd say so."
Hayley turned away from the grotesque visage of her own lifeless body, floating in a tranquil sea of crimson. She observed the figure stood beside her. He was young, about her age, maybe 25/26. He stood tall, resting a hand upon his hip, the other tucked into the pocket of his skin-tight black jeans. He wore a midnight coloured hoodie with a smiling cartoon sunflower in the centre. His hair was ash white and drooped loosely down each side of his face. His eyes glared down at Hayley like a parent about to tell of their child for misbehaving.
"Does that make you Death or something?" Hayley questioned.
"Wow a regular Sherlock Holmes here I see." Death responded with an accompanying roll of his eyes.
"Well I mean, where's the-"
"Big black cloak, oversized scythe, skeletal body? The arrogance of you humans, to assume you could correctly capture my attributes." Death interrupted.
"Okay okay I'm sorry. So what happens now? You take me to the next place?" Hayley asked, purposefully shuffling around to not be facing her own corpse.
"Maybe, when I'm good and ready. I thought you'd want to take some time to admire your handywork first." Death spat.
Hayley's knees began to shake, her skin dropping its colour. "No... No thank you. Let's go. Please?"
"No? You don't want to sit here and wait for your mother to come home? To hear her cries when she finds what remains of her baby girl?" Death whirled around and towered over Hayley. Shadows seemed to grow from his body, making Hayley feel as though the room was swallowing her soul.
"Please..." Was all she could muster before her knees gave way and she fell forwards. She hit the ground hard and remained slumped forward, her body shaking as she began to sob.
"You had the most beautiful gift. You had life. The ability to create and shape an experience individual to you and you alone. To see the many wonders the world has to offer. And you've wasted it!" Death started to pace back and forth as he ranted. "Do you know how many people I see each day who beg me for a chance to go back? How many kids I have to take who had that gift STOLEN from them?! And here's you, who took that gift and spat on it! DISRESPECTED IT" Death shouted.
"GIFT?!" Hayley turned her head around, tears flowing like unending rivers down her face. "Some gift! To wake up each day and put on a mask so the people in my life didn't see how much pain I was in! To be around people who loved me and still feel empty? To burden them with my existence? I didn't want to die I wanted to free them from me!" Hayley roared back.
Death stopped pacing. His eyes narrowed.
"You don't understand." Hayley turned back and slumped over again. She sobbed no longer. She simply hung her head.
Death stepped over and knelt down beside her. "Then help me. May I? He asked, with a tenderness not yet heard from him.
Hayley didn't know what he meant but she nodded.
Death reached a hand out and pressed two fingers against her temple. They were surprisingly warm to the touch.
Hayley felt her life flash before her. She saw herself sat alone in crowded rooms. She heard her parents discussing her wellbeing in hushed voices from downstairs. She felt the pain with no physical source that she had always carried with her.
Death released his fingers from her head. She met his eyes and saw a single tear fall like the last leaf signifying the start of a long, cold winter.
"I'm sorry Hayley. I understand now. You did what you thought was right." Death whispered.
"So I made the right decision?" Hayley asked, eyes wide.
"I cannot say. You chose. Their lives will go on. They will face great pain and hardship. Their loss will haunt them for the rest of their lives. But in time they will find their appreciation for life again. They will see you in the bud of your favourite flower and they will smile. They will hear your favourite song on the radio and sad tears will turn to joy as they sing along and remember your life. They will feel your warmth around them in the sunset and they will miss you, but they will smile." Death placed a hand upon Hayley's shoulder as he spoke, helping her rise to her feet.
Hayley looked up at him and in his eyes she saw the things she had overlooked. She saw the handmade birthday cake her mum had presented to her last year. It had been hideous but she'd loved it. She heard her best friend jamming out in the car, convincing her to let loose and sing along. She remembered her dad, how he had tucked her into bed every night without fail until she was 16, despite her protests.
"I think it's time we go now." Death said, opening a door that hadn't been there a moment earlier.
Hayley smiled at her memories. "Thank you." She said as she stepped through.
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"Life and death are the great equalizers of existence!" Said the priest with a booming voice as he stood beside a casket, the emporer's young daughter inside. "As we stand here together filled with grief, understand that death guides her soul, and once he arrives through those doors, we must not interfere with his ritual. We must give her our prayers and our final goodbyes." Tears flowed down everyone’s cheeks as he spoke.
"This young girl was a symbol of hope for all; her bright smile and energy brought joy to the kingdom, and she never discriminated based on gender, race, or status. Let us use her as an example on how we must behave in order to preserve her memory," said the preist as he wiped his tears; he had lost his daughter not too long ago, and Aloe had always been there and even let him join her tea circle with others from all around the kingdom.
Suddenly, the church doors swung open as a group of armed men rushed inside to end the lives of those grieving. What had felt like days was only minutes. And as the group cheered at the death of the king, a cloaked figure blocked their exit. His unforgiving gaze was filled with rage at those who killed without his consent. Those who dared take life in such a sacred temple the group's cheers or triumph morphed into screams, and their faces were drained of color. More blood splattered the walls as the cloaked figure made quick work of those who brought disgrace to his work.
After a while, the cloaked figure brought the souls of those who mourned and assaulted to the afterlife they deserved. Now it was time for the young girl in the open coffin. He gazed into the face of the girl and sighed.
"Gone far too soon, may you rest easy, child, knowing that your family and friends await you," he said as he placed the items of passage into the pattern and shape of the flowers that lined her dress. Another group stormed the temple and rushed him one of the raiders breaking the ritual when their sword plunged into his chest; a blinding light filled the room.
In the end, souls were lost, and the young girl stood up, confused, as she saw the lone figure breathing heavily. He looked up at her, his eyes wide as he realized that in the chaos, her soul had returned. He reluctantly reached out a hand to her, saying, "You've been given a second chance; come with me."
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krpph38
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krpjxto
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[WP] When we started this "Secret Brotherhood" back in a high school, it was just a joke. Now, thirty years later, I think our joke went too far.
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“The presidents on the line, he’s agreed to our terms.” Andy held the phone away from his face, worried that it might explode if he placed it near his ear. Assassination attempts had been getting worse ever since they moved towards world domination, and Andy wasn’t about to take any unnecessary risks. Andy couldn’t believe they had done it. Their secret brotherhood was going to be the new shadow government. In thirty short years, their stupid joke had turned to the domination of a country.
Fina put down her glass of wine, staring at Andy, assuming he was joking. When she saw his astonished expression, she jumped from the couch, sending red wine spilling onto the carpet. “What do you mean, he’s agreed? Hasn’t this all been a joke? Who's really on the phone?”
“One second.” Andy held the phone in front of his mouth. “I’ll call you back, bye-bye!” He sang those words out as he hung up. “Ok, now we can talk in private. What do you mean, who's really on the phone? The president, remember? You said it was our time to move? Housings getting too expensive, so it’s time for the brotherhood to become the new big brother?”
She knew this had to be a joke. Pulling out her phone, she called Diana, her childhood friend, and another member of the brotherhood of Freedom. “Hey, Diana.” She said, words shaky as she clung to her phone. “This brotherhood things a joke, right?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. It’s a joke, and if any agents or police officers are listening to this line, I want them to know that phone tapping is uncool and all that. Don’t worry, I’ve got you. I won’t say anything that can get us in trouble. Wink-Wink, nudge-nudge, all that type of stuff.”
“Oh, no…. Why did no one tell me you two were serious? I thought this was all a joke.”
“A joke? Those speeches you gave moved us. All those speeches about how the world would be better with us running it. We wanted to help you build the perfect world. Look how close we are.” Andy patted her on the shoulder while Diana spoke from the mobile.
“Yeah, and those brilliant plans of yours. You were right, blackmailing all the corrupt politicians was easy. They folded instantly. We only had to kill one of them.”
“YOU KILLED SOMEONE?”
“YOU TOLD US TO KILL HIM! Remember, you said we needed to burn anyone that got in our way. It was harsh, but fair.”
“This is bad, I’m going to die.” Fina opened her blinds, spotting a black van and a scope that was pointed right at her. As soon as she appeared in the window, a loud bang rattled through the neighborhood, only for Andy to tackle her as the bullet pierced the window, creating a hole in her tv.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. At least not until the president signs the paperwork. Don’t worry, I’ll have that officer exiled to a private island later for his attempt on your life.” Andy wasn’t bothered by the near death experience, reaching up to close the blinds before pulling Fina to safety.
Shaking on the floor, Fina held her knees, muttering about how much trouble she was in. “We need to apologize. Tell them all it’s a misunderstanding.”
“Bit late for that. You can’t un-threaten someone’s life.” Diana spoke from the spot beside Fina, the phone having been dropped when she was tackled.
“Yeah, this is our only choice now. Don’t worry, we’re all in this together. We won’t abandon our leader.”
“Leader?... You made me the leader?”
“Of course, you’re the one that decided to start the brotherhood. It only makes sense you would lead us.” Andy helped her to her feet, bringing her to the couch.
“How didn’t I notice this was all going on?”
“You’re a bit of a shut in. Maybe you didn’t go out enough to see anything. Have you checked the news lately?”
“I only read articles about the dog dancing competition in Spain…. This is really bad. Ok, so we can’t back out of this. What do we do?”
Diana’s voice was quiet, being on the opposite side of the room now. Noticing the hint of noise, Andy went and retrieved the phone, placing it on the couch, allowing her to participate again in the conversation.
“She can hear you now, Diana.”
“We do as you say. The brotherhood only got this far because of you. What do you think we should do?”
Diana thought about it. Her plans were often stupid, sprouting whatever dumb thing came to the top of her head. Maybe she needed to keep doing that? Taking the wine bottle, she downed a mouthful. “Ok, we hold the president in Andy’s basement, keeping him on constant watch for a week until we are certain we have secured our control. Then we get them to construct a skyscraper for us, one that sits near their headquarters, so they will always be in our shadows. Ensure all blackmail is ready to go on a moment’s notice, if anyone so much as blinks the wrong way, leak their details. To show we are serious, leak two at random.”
“Will do!” Diana and Andy said, Diana hanging up as soon as Fina gave the order while Andy called the president back, listing some new terms for their agreement. While they did that, Fina slid down the couch, staring into her lap, contemplating what she had accidentally created.
It was only supposed to be a joke. A way to air their frustrations at the world while not actually doing anything to change it. She didn’t know how to run a shadow government. Unable to back out, Fina decided she would keep bluffing, hoping it kept her alive.
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
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"To think we were a bunch of high school kids who hated rich people, huh?" Jack said, polishing his knife as he and his friend and other founding member of the brotherhood, Mark, who was cleaning his gun.
"Yeah, we would always have these great discussions about how much we hated the top-class" Mark replies, cocking his gun "We killed five hundred already, and we number in the thousands"
They chuckled.
Brotherhood of the crow, the club they founded in high school as a joke, merely a reference to their favorite game series at the time, had bloomed into an actual brotherhood of assassins, their numbers increasing day-by-day as more and more people got sick of having all their hard-earned money stolen by the top one percent.
"You think if our high-school selves could see us now, how would they react?" Jane, the youngest of the founding members, she was a junior when it was created, now, she was in her mid-fourties, and was widely considered the matriarch of the brotherhood.
"They would probably say we're the coolest shit they ever saw, and then recoil in disgust as they watch all the chaos we created" Jiro, oldest of the founding members, an asian man of Japanese descent, still remembered the days when he used to live in his home country, once a beautiful land of cherry blossoms and islands, turned into a toxic wasteland by the greed of mankind for more and more power "They were young, naive, but it was them who started this"
"Hey, Jiro, you remember how frequently it used to rain back then?" Jack asked, staring out the window at the pillars of smoke and toxic waste in the air "We at least used to get rain in the summer, we used to love jumping in the puddles and making paper boats with our little coats"
"And pissing off that hag down the street who used to let her dogs chase the kids" Jane smiled at those memories.
"I miss those days" Jiro smiled "I miss when life was simple, when we still had colors in the sky, when everything still had a soul, and wasn't a fucking corporate nightmare where everything is advertisement after advertisement of the next piece of poison they want us to eat or the next surgery that'll make us 'perfect'" he growled.
"In time, brother" Mark put a hand on Jiro's shoulder. "The earth can be healed, but there's one thing we need to do"
They got up, leaving the room, walking by hundreds of new recruits all of different backgrounds, shouting as they trained in several forms of combat.
"We remove the parasites"
Jiro stepped into the grand hall, an old abandoned train tunnel, standing over the thousands of brothers beneath them, all looking at him with admiration, some had anger in their eyes, but not at him.
"NAM MATER TERRA!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, the members of the brotherhood raising their fists to him, ten-thousand fists, all raised against a common enemy.
"NAM MATER TERRA!" Ten-thousand pained, angry voices shouted, their lungs withering from the toxic fumes they were exposed to their whole lives.
The earth was going to be cleaned.
No matter how many parasites stood in their way.
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kgs4qw9
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jpiv1ow
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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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The cow gave me a reproachful stare as I set her back in the field. Mr Travis slowly walked up to me, smiling on the infectious way of his. "Thats the last one. Cheers Greenie, you just saved me a whole heap of trouble."
I gave him a smile in turn, looking across the field. The bushes I had quickly grown were standing strong, as they would do until he could get that fence fixed. The other cows were milling about, returned home after their eventful day. It was a nice sight, as my gaze returned to him. "Thats no problem at all, it's what I'm here for. I'd better get back to home though, ready for the next call. But I'll see you again in a few days for my usual pickup?"
He grinned wider, nodding. "Sure thing. See you then."
We waved each other off, as I headed back. Not that the other [Dreamers](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/159anll/comment/jtf27ij/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) would be interested, but I had to keep them updated as to what I did. My report for the day would probably be given a causal glance before being filed away. Not that I could blame them. Catching wandering cows wasn't exactly the stuff of [legends](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/15ku7uu/comment/jv7oa0z/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3).
I reached to the grass below my feet, making it bend and flex. Strengthened stalks lifted me up, before making me race along the ground without moving my legs. Maybe it was a bit of a lazy way to travel, but I couldn't deny it worked.
I arrived back home within the hour, seeing my farmhouse standing proud before my little orchard. The organisation had bought the place for me, and outfitted it with all the necessary bits and bobs that made it a base for them. I had taken the initiative to buy that little extra land as well, and used my ability to grow the lovely selection.
The majority weren't native, and by all rights should grow here. But I persuaded them to, and with fresh fruit produced all year round, it made the community more than happy to support me. It was absolutely a cushy assignment here, perfectly suited to me.
But as I approached, I noticed a tremor in the grass and weeds. Someone was here, looking for me. I couldn't see them, but their presence had been felt. I stopped, crouching low and connecting with my plants. Through them I saw the area around me, and a place where they were being crushed.
It was behind the house. This... person was crouched low. I felt the phantom pain as something sharp cut through the plants below, damaged without thought. Knowing they were there I kept still, calling out loudly. "You can come out."
I heard a rustle, before a person stalked out from behind my home. Their body was thick, fur poking out around straining clothes. Their head was shaped almost bear like, but I could see the human intelligence in their eyes. They growled, and spoke in a guttural voice. "Finally.... Greenfinger."
I raised an eyebrow, watching them from a distance. "Who might you be?"
Their laugh was heavy, fur rippling with each breath. "Ha! I am Ravager. And you are my prey."
Their self assurance made me roll my eyes. I had heard of them. A new super on the scene. From the sounds of it, they wanted to be on a similar level and [Nightmare](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/s/WnP0XKbmY5). The city based [Dreamers](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/18pzlxy/comment/kespn59/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) had spoken of his strength and aggression. The assumption was his power was limited shape shifting, primarily into wolf or bear like appearances.
The others had managed to drive him away, but he had yet to be caught. If I had to guess, he probably wanted to get some prestige by taking out a [Dreamer](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/18hndq6/comment/kd826d9/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3). Being one of the lone posts, he probably thought I would be a push over.
How wrong he would be. I crossed my arms, bending my knees ever so slightly. "Prey? I hardly think so. I will give you this opportunity to surrender peacefully."
All I got in return was a roar, as he leapt towards me. He over quickly, definitely used to charging into action. I couldn't ignore the slight twinge of fear as he approached, with all those teeth and claws. But even as he moved, so did I.
The plants beneath him surged upwards, thick vines wrapping around his limbs. They snapped taut as he moved, but held on. I gave him a small smile,before having them whip him into the ground. Other vines followed, reaching up to grab his body, trying to hold him.
He snarled, spitting at me. "You think twigs can stop me?!"
I heard snapping, as vines started to split. He was strong, I had to admit that. But his strength was all physical. In the city scape, that would be helpful in maneuvering its stone, metal and glass. But out here in the country? This was my playground.
He roared to his feed, laughing to himself. Yet that died, as he noticed a few plants growing upwards. They surrounded him, almost like a firing squad. Yet instead of guns, they had thorns. Long, sharp thorns.
I waved my hand, making my bushes release them. Ravager roared as they peppered him, making him look like he had gotten on the wrong side of a porcupine. It wasn't deadly by any means, but I would hurt him. A lot. And it did, if the scream-like roar was anything to go by.
More vines reached up to hold him down. A few grabbed the thorns, driving a couple deeper in not-too-damaging places. He tried to strain, again, but unfortunately for him I was ready. More vines than before grappled him, holding him in place.
I made sure he could not move before shifting from my position. My colleagues from the city would likely rub it in his face, but I found that beneath me. I would simply call it in, and have someone come out and collect him.
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I stared long into closet Isla's face, my heart thudding in my chest. A doppelganger? Skinshifter? A young kelpie? Flickers of evil smiles, bleeding wounds, and miserable death invaded my mind: James missing half his torso after a scared woman revealed herself as a nosferatu and made contact with a disintegration spell, Heriot hacked to pieces by a horde of imps pretending to be the children they had kidnapped and devoured, Juan suddenly losing his head when a kingfisher demon's maw snapped out from the darkness and snatched it away. I reached for the pocket watch that hung from my belt - Timesaver - but found nothing. My belt was at my bedside and all my other foci were attached to it save the wedding band on my finger.
She just stared back at me, and so long as that was all she did, I was content to think. How did whatever this was break the threshold of our home? Was I dealing with a power player looking to pay me back for my day job, or had this thing slipped in behind my daughter.
Neither of those could, or should have been possible without creating a massive racket. I wished I could peel away its glamour, but blue magic had never really agreed with me. Half the tools on my belt were shortcuts to various different spells for blasting monsters into bloody chunks.
My wife, however, was a fantastic blue mage - even my daughter showed more promise than I ever d-
Wait.
I pulled together a quick shield against bodily harm and willed it into existence, then I reached out with my index finger and gently booped closet Isla's nose. The image blurred around my finger and flickered into nothing as my personal magical field overwhelmed it.
The red haired ragamuffin on the bed giggled behind me, "I got you, daddy! I got you!" Her accent more resembled her mother's middle American than my lowland Scot.
My heart coming back to a rest, I turned around to regard all forty pounds of her condensed hubris. Her grin was at once adorable and infuriating, real. I didn't know whether to hug or ground her.
"Isla, when did you get so good at illusions?"
"Ms. Haley started teaching us how to make birdies in class last week."
"And this?" I waved to the empty space where the illusion had been.
"She doesn't know I can do that yet."
"You learned it from one of the older kids?"
She nodded her head. Of course she had been put up to this stunt. My position on the college board was not popular among the Blues, and parents' sentiments have a habit of trickling down to their children.
I sighed, "Sweetheart, I'm proud that you are doing so well with your magic, but you need to be careful who you listen to. Someone could have gotten hurt."
Her pride fled from her like water from a dropped pitcher, which hurt to watch. Her moment of triumph outdone by a single oversight. It wasn't fair at all.
I closed the small distance between us and pulled her into a hug, "The magic wasn't wrong, love. It was the trick." I stood, lifting her up from her bed, blankets and all. "Come on, can't leave your mum out of this."
"But then I'll be in more trouble."
"Maybe, but I think she'll have some fine ideas for getting that sneaky cu--uh kid back."
She giggled at my expense and I carried her out of the room to have a conversation I had hoped to have at least two years later.
(Started with the mage and daughter idea. Ended up writing a character study for one of the novels I have on the back burner.)
Edit: correcting some autofill BS.
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ja8l7nv
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ja8fopy
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[WP] Tradition dictates that each sentient species is given one seat in the Galactic Parliament. When humanity made contact with the galactic community, it was decided that planet earth deserves to have four senators.
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The humans stared in surprise. "I'm sorry, perhaps we misunderstood - I thought that each sentient species got a single senator?"
The gelatinous alien wobbled. "Yesyes, quite right quite right. One senator one senator. Everyone gets one, everyone gets one."
The feathered, multi-eyed creature standing next to it nodded slowly. "As my colleague explained, you are correct. One senator per sentient/sapient species, regardless of planets settled or ruled over."
One of the humans - the one named George - whispered, "Do... do they mean whales and dolphins? Chimpanzees? Did we miss something?"
The leathery humanoid, Lange - incidentally the only creature with a human-pronounceable name - chuckled. "No, no. While you have an impressive number of creatures on your planet, none but the Humans are worthy of a seat on the council."
Ambassador Humphries cleared his throat. "May I ask... why are we being given this singular honor? Humanity is only a single species, and yet we get four senators?"
Lange burbled another chuckle, joined by the other two aliens. "You humans are so inclusive! It really warms my hearts. No, as I'm sure you understand, even though you see yourselves as a single species, you are of course four. Unless... well, there was some debate about Hot/Dry Humans and Hot/Wet Humans?"
Humphries blinked in surprise. "I'm... sorry? Are you calling humans different species based on... climate?"
Lange seemed confused by the question. "Well... yes? I suppose we should have clarified, but - here, look."
She pulled out a holographic projector, and pulled up an image of a young woman in a thick winter coat. "This is one species, the Cold Human. This one is from 'Michigan'. Er, we use the term Cold Human, your inclusivity must have eradicated the different terms generations ago. And this one" - the image changed to that of a middle-aged man in shorts and a t-shirt - "is a Hot/Dry human, from 'Marbella, Spain'. And this one... and this one. Cold, Hot/Dry, Hot/Wet, and Temperate. Ah! Maybe you call them Arctic, Desert, Tropical, and Plains? Though some of the plains undergo rapid temperature shifts..."
Lange trailed off. Humphries cleared his throat, twice, then eventually found his words. "That's... those are all just humans, though. We wear thick clothing in cold temperatures, thin clothing in hot weather, and while, yes, most of us prefer one climate or another, we do move around a bit. I was born in England, but moved to Florida, in the United States - temperate to hot, er, wet. We adapt to almost any temperature, but we're still all the same species - surely the blood tests and DNA matching would have shown that?"
The aliens gathered into a huddle, squawking and gesturing wildly. The blobby alien turned a sickly-looking shade of yellow-green, while the feathered one shed more than a few feathers. Lange, clearly the most level-headed of the group, still looked quite shaken. Finally, they turned back to the humans.
Lange cleared her throat with a delicate squeak. "We... you are correct, of course, about the blood tests and so forth. But there is quite a bit of... shall we say, climate hard-liners? Our planets, much like your own television shows, largely a single climate, or only populated in a single climate band. My planet is temperate." She made a short engine sound, followed by a loud cowbell noise, gesturing to the goo-creature - " comes from a planet that is mostly water, dotted with tropical islands. And" - a horrible static noise, this time gesturing at the bird-person - "is from a dry, dusty planet of intense heat. He wears a thermal regulator to visit your temperate facilities, here. But... you live all across this wild planet, with its intense heat and cold?"
Humphries nodded. "We do, yes; as I said, we humans are adaptable. While we thrive in temperatures from -40 degrees Celsius to over +40 degrees Celsius, we can survive much more extreme - I'm sorry, is your friend all right?"
The blobby creature had gone fully green, and was shaking so hard its rolls of goo were making tiny clapping sounds. Lange glanced in its direction, then shook her head. "No, it will be fine. We are just... shaken. Are you telling us that you refuse four senators, and choose only one? And that your choice of senator will come from... any climate?"
Humphries nodded, somewhat mystified at the odd reaction. "Of course. We may have our differences, but outside of preference, we don't argue over climate. Much, anyway. As far as I know, we've never gone to war over climate! Ha ha!"
His joke fell flat. Lange, her face unreadable, replied only, "We have."
The coming months were eye-opening, to both the varied aliens and to the humans that visited them. Icy worlds were met with, "Gee, it's a bit chilly! Almost as bad as winters in Alaska, but you've got a lot more daylight," and desert planets were greeted with, "Oh, no worries, it's a dry heat, just stay hydrated. And you don't have any scorpions!" The alien worlds were unprepared for the constant downplaying of the climate - no world humans visited was as hot, as cold, or as inhospitable as the climates of Earth. The hardliners scoffed that their world was much more extreme, but soon found that the more harsh they claimed their world was, the more humans flocked to it. "You call this cold? At least the atmosphere is breathable, at the top of Mount Everest you have to were oxygen tanks!" or "This is hot, yes, but one summer my family visited Death Valley and cooked hamburgers without lighting a fire, this is nothing!"
Lange smiled to herself as she read through the morning's reports. The climate extremists - hot and cold, for the first time in history on the same side - were calling for a ban on human travelers, though their reason why was mostly angry grumbling about "showoffs." The vote to remove a number of extreme temperature planets from Parliament was called off, because humans had somehow managed to take up permanent residence on almost all of them, calling them "not that hot" or "only kinda cold." There was even the beginnings of a tourist trade among the somewhat less extreme planets; a Khorthian, known galaxy-wide as a hater of "warms", became the first of his kind to visit Noomoobooloo, one of the colder planets, albeit on the middle of a heatwave. And the human clothing! It had taken the galaxy by storm; parkas and Hawaiian shirts sold like coldcakes. Even their food was extreme! Ice cream and hot coffee! Eaten together, at times! They even had "frozen hot chocolate", an oxymoron that nonetheless was becoming popular with many cultures.
Lange unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk, and pulled out a report: "Earth: X7 rating. Death planet. Extreme climates, dangerous lifeforms, long-term toxic to most life forms. Natives invented atomic energy and immediately used it as a weapon on themselves. Avoid at all costs."
She flipped the page to the other report, the one she had submitted to Parliament. "Earth: M5 rating. Four distinct climates, each with its own lifeforms. No sign of inter-species war. Some extremist views."
A scrap fell out from between the pages; written on it was a quote from a famous Earth author, Mark Twain: "Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime."
Lange carefully tucked the scrap back into the folder, and locked it away again. Travel, indeed.
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"Four?" Garrett's voice carried his consternation. "I- apologize, but I was told we had but a single representative for the planet."
"No," said the machine, primly. "You were not. One senator from each sentient species, you were told. Our last survey from your region, approximately 11,000 years ago, indicated at least 6 such species on your world. At least 4 are extant. Before you are admitted entry, you must return with your counterparts."
"Then there's been a mistake," Garrett insisted. The machine said nothing, so he continued. "Humanity is the sole sentient species on Earth. We've never found evidence for any -"
"AH, there you are!" cried a booming voice. A long, low crate behind him that he'd thought was a piece of equipment suddenly faded to transparency, revealing...
"A whale?!" He couldn't hide his astonishment.
An eyeball the size of his fist rolled to stare him, distorted behind the pressure vessel but somehow managing to convey both apology and amusement. "A human?" the whale echoed, in gentle mockery. "Yes, a whale. They made contact with us first, you know. They only know about you because we told them."
Garrett couldn't seem to make his mouth work, so the whale returned his attention to the gatekeeper. "Now that we're both here..."
"I have received word," interrupted the machine in the wall, "that the third of your senators has arrived at a different entrance. Once the fourth has arrived, all will be admitted."
"The third?!" exclaimed the human, while the whale seemed to writhe in his tank. Seconds later, the massive creature's translator boomed, "fourth? What fourth? We invited the dolphins but you stated they were genetically similar enough to be fairly represented by me. What other third can there be? Fourth?"
Suddenly, the wall next to the machine became a window, and from within it, a single, black eye peered out, surrounded by tiny, jet-black feathers. "Haha, my fellow earthlings!" croaked the eye, and Garrett suddenly realized he was seeing the feed from a suit camera. He stared. The whale stared. The crow stared back at them, in apparent good humor. "What?" she drawled. "Don't tell me you're just now figuring this out?"
"You have arrived at the wrong entrance." the machine informed him. "But conditions at that gate are biocompatible, so you may proceed to entry as soon as the fourth member of your party arrives.
"Fourth?!" cawed the crow. There was a jitter in the feed as she flapped her wings in alarm. "There are but three of us! AWK!"
An hour later, they were still arguing with the machine. Garrett, and the whale, whose name, it turned out, was Thumps-the-Squid, had spent some of that time clearing up historical misunderstandings. The crow, who had a name but refused to share it, seemed personally offended at the idea that there was a fourth senator. Thumps suggested that perhaps she'd been looking forward to upstaging the two of us, and wasn't thrilled to be upstaged herself. The wall, however, steadfastly refused all requests for information and insisted that the fourth senator must be present and that it was not authorized to provide additional information,
Garrett, despite the circumstances, couldn't help feeling just a little smug. Okay, so there had been some shocks. Humanity wasn't alone on earth, and that was going to rock the planet more than the news of alien contact had, but at least the aliens made mistakes, too. An hour had passed with no sign from the mystery senator, and all three earthlings agreed that, while each was certainly a shock to the others, all had a right to be present and none could come up with a plausible fourth. "Too long!" shouted the crow stridently, "you take too long between surveys! Species die! Perhaps smart then, but stupid now!"
"Yes!" exclaimed Garrett. "Whatever other intelligence you found 11,000 years ago, clearly they're no longer with us!"
The machine answered instantly, "the remaining sentience was not found at our prior visit but revealed itself to us only recently. It was their contact that led us to initiate your admittance to the Parliament. All four senators must be present for admittance."
Crow, whale, and man all stared at each other. After a moment, Garrett tried again to explain. "We think there has been a mistake. There is no as species on earth capable of establishing interstellar contact, not on their own, and certainly not without at least us noticing. Okay, we didn't see the whale colonies, but they were hiding in purpose! The crows don't want what we want, so we were unaware of the level of..."
He trailed off. He couldn't explain the crows, either. "Nevertheless!" he rallied, "The energy requirements alone would have been a dead giveaway! You established contact with US!" Garrett pulled out his phone, unsure of whether he planned to call for backup or just look up the history of First Contact, when the machine smoothly cut in.
"The fourth member of your party has arrived. You may enter."
Three pairs of eyes, one green, one brown and cow-like, and one black and beady, watched the tiny white mice stroll through the door, looking for all the galaxy as though they owned the place.
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juwinfp
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[WP] “Out of all species of sapients in the galaxy, Terrans are the strangest. A single Terran is tiny, weak, and barely sapient at all. But when they clump together, they form massive colonies made up of trillions of them that share the same intelligence, called a Human.”
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**TOP SECRET - WAR REPORT**
Operation Microbial Onslaught
Our microbial intelligence has analyzed our strangest enemy yet, the Terrans. A single Terran is tiny, weak, and barely sapient at all. But when they clump together, they form massive colonies made up of trillions of them that share the same intelligence, called a Human.
Henceforth, our orifical invasion forces have convened to strategize the most effective means of attacking these Terran colonies. With the objective of undermining the host's defense systems and establishing control, a collaborative effort is underway to exploit vulnerabilities and maximize the destruction of these Terrans.
**Operational Objectives:**
**Infiltration**: Identify entry points and devise methods to breach the Terran's living, mobile fortress. We may utilize assets that are transported into the colony, such as food, and water that enter through a cavernous opening known as a "mouth". Other acceptable entry points are nostrils, ears, and any damaged walls of the skin and into their pipelines called "blood vessels". Airborne is considered one of the stealthiest ways we can infiltrate them.
Neisseria gonorrhoeae has reported that openings in between the legs are absolutely viable entry points, despite protests from others about how repulsive colony waste products can be.
**Immune System Suppression**: Develop tactics to evade and weaken the colony's security system and forces. The warrior caste of Terrans known as white blood cells are challenging foes. The most dangerous tactic they have involves engulfing us and destroying us from within their bodies. We call this "phagocytosis". They will consume us! We must not let that happen!
HIV troops have volunteered to strike at this Terran army to grant us the advantage. Bacterium forces will focus on triggering cytokine signaling as a diversionary tactic, causing excessive inflammation to distract the immune system troops from attacking our armies.
**Strategic Deployment**: Optimize spread mechanisms to target key organs and tissues. Viruses, exploit the circulatory and lymphatic systems for widespread dissemination. Bacteria, target organs rich in nutrients to sustain growth.
**Resource Depletion**: Exploit host resources for replication and sustenance. Seek sources of carbohydrates to ensure you have sufficient supplies to keep up the good fight! An army can only fight on a full stomach!
**Communication Disruption**: Disrupt cellular communication to hinder coordinated defense responses. We must ensure that the various Terrans who belong to the immune system do not reach the designated battlezones before we overrun the local Terran cells.
**Mission Status: Ongoing**
This report is classified and meant for authorized personnel only. Unauthorized access is prohibited. Do not disseminate to any foreign micro-organisms, especially those that aid Terran colonies. Especially that bacteriophage. The fucking traitorous scum.
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“And yet, this one here lays, alone, in a dark room, on a bed, with crumbs all over it, and emanating from it the smell of sweat, grease and other vaguely unpleasant stenches. It inhales and exhales loudly and with urgency. In one of his appendages he is holding a small black rectangle that flashes with different colours and shapes which resemble other humans. The trillions of terrans weep in unison. The crowning achievement of their hivemind, a statistical miracle, which formed from stardust over billions of years, wastes all of its potential away, whacking off for the third time today.”
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[WP] You, a fake clone, are stuck in the classic “Shoot one, let one live” situation. To your horror, the person with the gun outsmarts you and uncovers that you were fake all along. Just as you brace yourself for the bullet, they point their gun towards the real person and pulls the trigger.
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I let out a quiet whimper of dread and winced as the crack of the resolver sounded off the stone walls of the abandoned church. My brain seemed to slow down- tracking every individual echo of the cacophony that interrupted our frantically desperate bickering. I braced for pain, but-
Nothing.
Slowly I let out a gasping breathe I didn't know I was holding and fell to my knees in confused relief. A quiet involuntarily mix of a sob and a giggle seemed to bubble up from my throat. My breathe caught again when my brain finally registered the sound of a heavy mass slumping to the floor in an ungainly heap.
She was laying not two feet from me, face down and the pretty auburn hair that she spent so much time taking care of sprawled out messily on the damp floor- she wasn't moving. A faint crimson trickle rolled out from her midsection and pooled in a groove on the rough stone floor
A hand settled on my shoulder and I jumped involuntarily, turned toward the man who shot her with a start.
"You always told me to trust in fate." He offered with a confident and reassuring grin.
My brain worked slowly through a fog lifted by the shock and panic. As the meaning of his words seemed to creep in though, incredulous horror to overtook any sense of caution. "Fate?! You mean? You- you guessed?!"
He laughed nervously, discomfort flicking through his features, though his insufferable sense of smug certainty didn't seem to dim "I prefer thinking that I left it up to fate." He offered a hand down to me. "Besides- it all worked out in the end, right Vanessa? Let's go home."
I slapped the hand away and kicked my foot out along the stoney tiles, putting a bit more distance between us. "Marc," I started, disgust overcoming my lack of self-preservation as I gestured to the splayed out girl next us. "You can't just fucking guess! You shot her. Your fiancee is dead because you fucking guessed!"
"But she-" he started, his cocky and insufferable smile finally starting to slip away. "Oh god help me." The revolver clattered out of his trembling hands and he took a half step back.
"God. You always were such an asshole."
Next to me a weak coughing groan sounded, half-muffled by the stone floor. Vanessa shifted slightly, one hand weakly reaching out to the wound in her stomache.
Marc turned to her and let out a half-hysterical laugh of relief. Running a hand through his shortly cropped hair. "Oh thank God-." He started, taking a hesitant step toward the prone figure.
I was there first though, closing the gap between myself and the girl with lunging step before gently rolling her onto her back. There was less blood than I expected and I placed a hand firmly over the wet patch of red forming on her shirt. She coughed and groaned at the touch, small trickle of red forming at the edge of her mouth and dancing down her slowly paling cheek.
"Ow." Vanessa groaned, doubling over slightly.
"It's- it shouldn't be fatal." I assuaged- in truth having no experience with gunshot wounds. I gave her a reassuring pat on the cheek and what I hoped was a confident smile. Come on. This might hurt." I wrapped her arm around my shoulder and squatted next to her- rolling her torso onto my back with as much care as I could manage.
"Wh-where?" Marc asked in surprised protest. "What are you doing? You can't!"
I rose on shaky legs, holding the girl in a piggyback, worryingly aware of the growing spot of wet warmth expanding out from her onto my back. Still- i turned to the fiance of the bleeding girl, not bothering to hide my fury or derision. "She's going to a hospital." I spat, taking a step toward the door. "You shot her. You fucking useless asshole."
Vanessa coughed weakly behind me, her head lolling heavily onto my shoulder with fatigue. She let out a weak laugh "Such a useless asshole." She agreed tiredly.
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"I've seen this in movies I can outsmart her" I thought to myself
"Tell me something only the real 3than would know!" Demanded ruby
The first cliche check
"There was a scandle involving fake pics of me when we were in school!" The I answered (lucky I did my research )
Then she pointed the gun at the real Ethan and yelled "I swear if you Re the real one you had better memorise your own history!"
After the school prom what final message did u send me word for word
Second cliche check
I then obliged before the other one could get a word in edgewise
"Correct!"
Then I looked at the real me and he had a genuine look of sadness "should I even be winning this" I thought. Perhaps I should die to let the real me have a chance
"Final question
As I looked to the other he shook his head, was he giving up for me? A clone? I mean I do love her but when his life has been built up dose he really have to give up his life for one built on lies?
"Do you still love me?" I could see tears in her eyes
"YesI" i answered
"No"said the real Ethan
Her eyes widened she knew love didn't last that long but she chose love over reality and pulled the trigger on my real self
I knew what I had to do
Not saying a word I dived between the real Ethan and ruby the bullet hitting my stomach
Both ran over to me
"Why?!" They both asked Me
Because love built up on lies isn't love
And I was content with myself
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[WP] Today was a shit day. Everyone telling you what to do. You were so angry, you didn't notice the car. - You wake up, the pit to hell on your left, gates to heaven right. Death stands before you, pointing to a chair. "Sit, we will decide your fate." That's it, the final straw. "No."
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Is it weird to be disappointed in Hell? Like, in the fact that I could actually see it now? I could hear the screams. Somewhere, deep in my soul, I knew the truth of the situation in front of me even though every rational part screamed out in horror. Was it all real?
“Mr Justin Oliver Bell,” the hooded, floating ghost of oblivion whispered to me as the coldness of its words froze my bones. Turning my head to it had to break through the frost built up on my spine. The fear, it came in waves, building as I felt myself drown in its presence. “Sit, we will decide your fate.”
“No,” I whispered back in disbelief as I moved regardless. I felt nothing. My legs didn’t move, the ground wasn’t pushing me, nor was there anything pulling me and yet I moved.
“Your words are not required in this matter,” the figure explained as a chair was placed in front of me, “If you wish to know, neither is your cooperation, understanding, or consent. This is merely a formality required by those who created the process.”
“To separate out good from evil?” I asked coldly, “You think I care! You think after all of this that I actually would care?”
“You don’t believe in objective benevolence,” was that the sound of the figure chuckling, “Do you, Mr Bell?”
“Why would I?” I asked back as I failed to control the shaking that started to ripple through my chest. Was this fear or just the cold? Breathing out to see if it would fog, I saw nothing. I felt nothing. Was I breathing here? “I got nothing. I didn’t even get to burn anything down to feel the warmth I was promised. I got to hear stories on how people got to fuck around, but I got to find out what happened and then had them mock me for not climbing out of the hole they dug for me. What good is there in any of that?”
Looking back up at the blank covering of what should have been a head, I tried to search for some sense of understanding in the void. Another scream echoed out of the pit in a pitiful response to my existence. Nothing came from the white gate. Whatever was behind held its secrets tight.
“It would be standard protocol to show you memories of those deemed worthy,” the figure lifted a bone hand to show white orbs flowing out of the creature. They danced and whispered half-familiar noises of times long passed.
“But I’m not, am I?” I shuddered out, “Worthy. Never have been.”
“You see your life as a punishment,” the creature explained and flicked through a couple of old memories. Rejection letters to letters of resignation I felt forced to write floated around us. I don’t know if it was its intention but what hit me harder was after they all went away. A little picture of my cell sitting blankly on my dresser with no new notifications had me look away. How long had I waited to be ghosted by so many?
“Wasn’t it?” I asked.
“Why doesn’t the pain you were in haunt you more?” the figure asked, “What you did? Or what others have done to you?”
“Fighting gave me purpose, even if it was only for a moment,” I explained, “The pain of it cleared my mind.”
“Yes, you wrote,” the figure brought up a small slip of paper that I had written after getting mugged. I remembered the danger of those words.
The paper read, ‘Pain is the present that washes away the future.’
How I wished that were true now.
“You caused yourself a lot of pain after this moment.”
“Is that why I’m unworthy?” I asked.
“You wouldn’t care if you were,” it mocked, “Worthy, unworthy, it doesn’t matter. Not to you. Not now. You have a question at the back of your mind that you want to know.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“And?”
“Can I just not be?” I said with a shudder, “Either. I just want to be nothing.”
“No,” Death sighed.
“So it’s more of the same then?” I whimpered, shaking even harder than I was.
“No, that’s not what you want.”
“I never wanted this,” I hissed, curling into myself, “I tried to be better. I tried. I worked. I worked hard to be useful. It’s not my fault. This is not my fault. It's not fair.”
“Fair is an illusion-”
“That’s the first useful thing you have said,” I fumed, interrupting the creature, “At least I know that now. At the heart of it, at least I know now that this really was rigged.”
“It was. In your favour,” the creature whispered, “How many worlds do you think have achieved your level of sentience?”
“It better not be just us,” I spat.
“Thousands.”
“Thousands!” I screamed, “Who gives a shit then?”
“Because thousands may as well be just you,” the creature explained, “Your species has difficulty understanding the difference between a million, a billion, and a trillion. Thousands amongst what is out there isn’t perceivable to your senses nor is it understandable to many.”
“But there’s only heaven and hell at the end of it?” I asked.
“Worthy and unworthy,” the figure corrected, “What you see is your representation of it.”
“More pain and a closed door,” I scoffed.
“Why do you think you deserve more pain?”
“Instead of being?” I asked, laughing, trying not to cry, “Is that why the other is a closed door.”
“It’s only closed because that’s what you think of it as.”
“What do you see then?”
“You,” the creature stated as it tilted its head slightly, “Already in pain. You want it to stop. You don’t believe it will, though, and you want oblivion rather than eternity because of it.”
“Yes,” I could barely say it. It was true. I didn’t want it to be, but it was.
“Why is unworthiness, to you, just more pain?”
“What else could there be?”
“Despair. That’s what actually haunts your mind, isn’t it? To have hope snatched from you once again only to discover that it was never there, to begin with.”
“Please,” I whispered, “not that. Please.”
“How many people haven’t cared at all what you have pleaded to them?”
“I don’t know,” I cried.
“Only one,” the figure floated closer and lifted my head, “Just you.”
“What?”
“You were deemed unworthy last time we met,” the figure explained as it let my head go as I watched streams of what looked like me arguing with the creature, “Last dozen or so times, really. This life was created in order to make you understand your actions. The consequences they have.”
“I can’t remember,” I pleaded, “I didn’t know.”
“Next time through you may,” the creature explained, “If you are deemed worthy of it. Maybe we will break you out of your habits after all.”
—
Thank you so much for reading! If you want more of my work, you can find it at r/asolitarycandle.
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The chair was a small wooden affair, akin to the ones I remember from school, and with the looming height of the reaper I felt like a child again. The ‘no’ I had shouted still rang in my ears and death was as still as … well as the grave.
My mind raced, I hadn’t thought ahead, I had just snapped and shouted my objection. How would I argue my way out of being dead.
“Whose heaven is that?” I asked to try and stall.
The reaper creaked as it turned its hooded head to the gates. They were like the shells of some creature, pearlescent, but the shapes were unnatural. Geometry not of this world seemed to pull at the threads of sanity if you followed any one portion of it too closely, taken as a whole it seemed to writhe.
“That is yours, you are of humanity yes?” The reaper asked in a voice as dry as a crypt.
“I don’t know to be honest, I’ve always kept myself to myself, I’ve certainly never been one of the crowd,” I avoided the question.
The reaper stood still waiting.
“And that I assume is hell? What kind of hell is that?” I challenged again.
The reaper turned his head the other way towards the pit. It seemed impossibly far away and as the landscape curved away into the pit it started to look fleshy.
“These are the options I have for human’s the pit or the gates,” the reaper said simply with a shrug.
“And why do you get to decide my fate?” I complained.
The reaper shook its head, a slow movement that rattled whatever was inside its hood.
“No, I said ‘we will decide your fate’, human’s are all the same, you assume so much of fate and put so little importance in your own actions, your life is always someone else’s fault, well here is a fulcrum, you cannot proceed without applying some leverage, taking some responsibility for where you go,” Death spoke the words in its dry voice but it was unmistakably an admonishment.
I sat on the chair, feeling more like a child at school. I thought back on the day, had I really been told what to do or had I coasted through the day and my life letting the world tell me what to do. The anger seeped away and was replaced with disappointment with myself.
“I am here to facilitate, help you make this decision but you must chose,” the reaper explained.
“Why would anyone chose the pit? That is hell right?” I asked.
The reaper tipped whatever it had for a head inside its hood as if considering the question. “Some would call it hell, it is nothing more than reincarnation, the opportunity for many to relive their mistakes over and over, you will not remember what came before.”
“So It’s death then as I’m dead now and don’t recall past lives?” I asked looking at the now hungry looking pit.
“This is the first time you’ve stood before me,” the reaper answered simply.
“So the gates then, what is option number two if it’s not reincarnation,” I asked looking at the maddening shapes from the corner of my eye.
“The universe wastes nothing, you can either be reused or go through the gates to be… repurposed by the ancient ones,” the reaper said.
Repurposed felt like a code for consumption by a hungry god, but still I couldn’t decide, did I really want to go back round the loop again to wind up ultimately at the same decision.
“Will it hurt?” I asked, not indicating which decision I was leaning towards.
“I’ve heard human’s say life is pain, it is unlikely reincarnation will come without some degree of it, behind the other door, I have no answers for you,” the reaper said, matter of factly.
I could feel the pit calling to me, it was the comfortable choice, however I turned towards the gates, shutting my eyes against the madness, I stumbled forwards arms reaching out for what came next.
Behind me I heard the rattling voice of the reaper and a human voice cry out “No!”
I tried to turn back to see the person that had followed me but I was already lost in the mad geometry of the pearly gates, they surrounded me and I felt myself tugged in every direction, dispersing, whatever came next was now inevitable, I smiled inwardly, comforted that the decision was behind me.
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[WP] "Why do we make laser grids like these?" "What do you mean?" "I mean instead of a messy random arrangement of lasers that a nimble intruder might be able to jump through, why not a simple grid wall with no gaps large enough to allow a person to pass through?"
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"Why do we make laser grids like these?" came the chirp from across the table.
"What do you mean?" Otto responded without looking up.
"I mean, instead of a messy random arrangement of lasers that a nimble intruder might be able to jump through, why not a simple grid wall with no gaps large enough to allow a person to pass?"
Otto sighed heavily and looked up from the blueprints he'd been amending and reworking to focus on his nephew. One of his nephews. One of his multitude of nephews because none of his siblings understood the concept of wrapping it up. He was at Mykola's place, so probably one of his. Too young to be Aiden, too old to be Eric. A, B, C... Connor? Conway? Conrad? One of those. At that extra annoying age where they're too curious for their own good, and have started to believe they actually know something, so get real argumentative about it when you prove they don't.
There's a reason why Otto didn't have kids. Or deal with kids. And tried to talk the Boss out of putting kids into his deathtraps. Fucking kids. Ugh.
"Because if we did that, it'd be impossible to get through." he said, hoping it'd satisfy the kid.
"But isn't that what you're trying to do?" Mykola's boy had his head twisted around to try and look at the blueprints from his uncle's perspective and was tracing out the twisting pathways with his eyes. "This whole thing is a giant 'You Can't Get In Here' tunnel. I don't understand why you're leaving holes in the security."
Well, the kid had actually asked, instead of just flat out stating that his way would be better. Otto grit his teeth and settled himself back for a proper lecture. "You're thinking too mundanely, kid." The boy looked up curiously and brushed a tangle of near-black hair out of his eyes. Slightly mollified, Otto continued. "This isn't like designing security for a bank or vault or something. This is something for my Boss. So we're already not designing like we would for the public sector, right?"
"Yeah? Yeah." Con-whatever agreed, though still looking just as confused.
"So, our issue is, whoever comes looking for whatever it is that the Boss is gonna put at the end of this is already going to be uniquely skilled and driven. Not just your average jewelry robbers or beat cops, right?"
"Right, yeah, you're going to be dealing with capes or cowls and stuff, sure. But wouldn't that mean you'd want it all extra locked down?" The kid was now looking directly at him. But with the intense look of someone who didn't understand but wanted to. It was by far more annoying than if the kid had just been flat-out disparaging of the whole process. Now Otto couldn't just tell him to shove off without feeling bad about it. Ugh.
"Well, here's the thing. If this was something the Boss really wanted to keep away from people, he'd have it put in some indistinguishable bank vault lock-box by a patsy that one of us underlings had hired through a third party, leaving two whole layers unaware of who even wanted the thing in there, and at least three whole layers who have no idea what the object even is besides. But he's not doing that, he's putting it at the end of a long tunnel of traps, alarms, and obstacles. Which means, what he wants is for whoever's coming after him to go through the whole thing. Which means it's gotta be at least theoretically possible to get through the whole thing. If you were a cowl and you came across a perfect laser grid that there was no way to squirm your way through and no way to work around, what would you do?"
Mykola's kid frowned down at the blueprints, eyebrows furrowed in tweenage concentration. "Start cutting through the walls, I guess. Either to find a way to cut the power, or to bypass the tunnel all toget-OH! Ooooooh, okay! I see, I see!" Otto grabbed the edge of the table to steady it as the kid started bouncing a little in his seat. "If you make it impossible, the cowls will start thinking outside the box and start looking for ways to end-run around the whole thing. If you make it difficult, but still possible, they're going to be too busy focusing on how to do the almost impossible thing so they're still playing by your Boss' rules instead of making up their own!"
|
Whaley cleared his throat weakly and addressed the group of disheveled labcoats, suits, and security vests who's eyes he could scarcely glance at from his place at the podium. His clammy hands fidgeted with the clicker as he spoke.
"We've all seen the uptick in the number of thefts and vandalism incidents in the past months as we've trialed the security software my team has put in place. I would like to reassure the board that the software works as intended. Our pen testing assistants have noticed some flaws in the physical security of the facilities."
The florescent lights above him stare down with disdain as he advances the slide. It reads, in black outlined impact font, EPIC LASER GRID 2000
A cough that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle can be heard from the group of curators to his left.
"Our current laser array consists of a messy random arrangement of lasers that a nimble intruder might be able to jump through. Consider: we Build a Wall. No human size gaps remain. Impenetrable. The intruder is simply sliced to bits as they..."
One of the attendees loudly clears their throat.
"You do know the lasers are part of an array of delicate motion sensors, and not some kind of fucked up vivisection chamber, right Brad? I thought you told us you hooked your fancy new system up to the existing security. Are you telling me we haven't had motion sensors on this whole time? Are the cameras even connected to anything?"
For the first time during the meeting Brad Whaley stands stiff as a board. His eyebrows rise like they're being raptured and his chin drops like a stone.
"Pardon me there's something I need to take care of" he stutters out as he moves to his desktop with a speed he only reaches on his way to the bathroom after taco night. He prays that he can fix this faster than they can write his pink slip.
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l8otziw
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l8n54o0
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[WP] You, an everyday civilian, watch in horrified disbelief as the so-called ‘hero’ yet again chooses to spare the villain who murdered your spouse and children, alongside countless other families, and prepares to take them back to a prison or asylum they have escaped from tens of times.
|
“It all started the night I stopped drinking, 17 years 364 days and about 4 hours ago. I’m not some rain man weirdo, tomorrow is the anniversary. I was all this to Dr. Morrison, the psychiatrist. Ok, so I was the janitor but it still counts as working together, and I’ve got two more doctorates than him.” I told the young what passes for a reporter these days.
The kid across from me was Harold Harkins. He ran some show on the internet called Harkin’s Horrors. “Which leads me to my first question, how does a guy with doctorates in chemistry and botany end up a janitor?” Harold asked while his cameraman made sure to zoom in nice and slow to my face.
“Well the booze didn’t help, but I’m getting there. Don’t rush a good story kid.” I told Harold like the old man I am. I’m allowed to be cranky, my family is dead.
“Sorry, go on” Harold said rather too professionally.
“ Ok where was I, right I had just decided to quit drinking. I used to really cut loose the week leading up to the day. Well I went a little too hard and one got to spend the night in the drunk tank. Got woke up by a mop hitting me in the face and this loud jangle of keys. With a hangover…” I said while miming a migraine.
“Yeah that sounds like rock bottom. Your family taken from you, your career researching medicines in the rainforest gone, battling addiction. You really went through a lot “ added Harold.
“That cacophony of keys caused an epiphany.” I told Harold.”
“I have to ask, where is this going? I thought this interview was about the murders and kidnapping?” Harold asked, a little less professionally.
“I promise you just wait it’s going to be worth it.” I said smiling into the camera.
“Well, I stopped drinking that day. On the same day it happened. I turned my life around and got a job. I started working as a janitor in the county jail. Worked there for 14 years, until an opening came up here at the asylum. Took three more years to get to the Barnum and Bailey Ward.”
“Barnum and Bailey Ward?” asked Harold.
“The supers, it’s the nickname we gave the place.”
“You must have some stories about working there, let’s get one of those” Harold said, desperate for something interesting out of this interview.
“In fact I do!” I exclaimed. “For starters, did you know I clean the toilet of the man that killed my family? I scrub his shit from the porcelain like I’m his god damn maid.” My face was growing red at this point my voice growing louder.
“Are you ok? We can stop if you want.” Said Harold, trying to calm the situation.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“It’s 4:17pm” said the cameraman.
“You know it will be the 20th anniversary of losing my family in a few minutes.”
As Harold started to offer his sympathies the intercom cut him off calling doctors to the cafeteria.
“So here’s your story Harold. It turns out these supers, well they have some iron guts. It took me two years to create a toxin that was universally effective on them. I think timing the onset to the minute was particularly genius, don’t you?”
“Toxin?” Said Harold as he uncomfortably shifted in his chair.
“Yes, toxin. That’s why I decided to give you my only interview. I wanted somebody here to know why. Why every super villain in this asylum is currently melting from the inside. I want the world to know it was me, and for everyone with a family.”
“Get a camera out here asap! Something awful is happening!” Yelled the producer as he burst into the break room.
“Wait, what was the epiphany you mentioned?” Asked Harold.
“That janitors always have the keys”
|
I gripped my beer. Warp Core had been recaptured. The TV droned on, but all I could see were flames, a piece of femur from a bone that was too small, blackened pieces of a ring.
I had spent years blaming myself. The plan was to leave that evening to see my parents for Thanksgiving. We should have been on the road, they should have survived. At very least I should have been there to die with them. Instead I stayed late, trying to finish a project before we left. I wondered what sick twist of fate decided that I would live.
Warp Core was a slippery villain, but burning an affluent high rise tends to motivate the forces of justice. After evading police for months, Captain Star, with superhuman strength/speed/invulnerability/flight/, eventually brought him in. Three days later Warp Core had been tried and sentenced. For a moment I took comfort in the fact that my wife and daughter would be at peace, that the world would be safer without that monster. It all came crashing down when he escaped as the sentence was about to be carried out.
Now, two years later, he had escaped 38 times. Every time, Captain Star was still the only one who could safely apprehend Warp Core.
1/?
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j9eedvb
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j9e2lyd
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[WP] You're immortal, and have passed the 'hero' phase centuries ago. You enter a small coffee shop one day to find that it's owned by your millennia-old arch-nemesis. You really, really just want a chai latte though.
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i rush into the coffee shop and shake the rain off before putting my umbrella into the waiting holder and joining the queue. I stare at the menu deciding if I want anything different or just the usual before looking down at the barrister on the till.
"you?" I mutter looking at count Von Krapht, vampire lord of the 15th century standing there behind the work top.
"you..." he replies glaring at me before he tailors his expression again and hands over a coffee to the waiting customer, I take a step forwards and stare at him. and notably the hair thick red line around his exposed neck...from where I'd ripped it off about 500 years prior. as I step I shrug one shoulder causing my hand to slip up my coat sleeve and touch the handle of the silver knife I keep tucked there.
"me? you were a..."
"What can I get you...*Sir*" he interrupts.
"what?" I ask now thoroughly confused. especially since its about a thousand years too early to meet him
"late, cappuccino, espresso?" he says, the mask of a serviceman settling over him.
if this is how its going then fine I'll play along. "right, a toffee late with some cream on top." I tell him. he nods and presses some buttons on his register and I quickly pull out a card to pay.
that done he turns around and with just enough supernatural to his movements makes the coffee. I watch him like a hawk as he quickly works three separate machines in sequence. the espresso machine brewing a thick golden brown shot whilst he preps the mug with toffee, just as the first drips fall the mug is underneath them. and as the last drip falls the mug swiftly transfers over to where steamed milk is waiting, he pours it out before artfully creating a rose out of the aerolised cream, a single pink marshmallow is gently pushed into the centre before he hands it back.
"one toffee late, just how you like it." he says before whispering quiet enough that only I would hear "there's a bit of nightshade in the marshmellow."
I smile then frown. how the hell does he know i like nightshade...I mull this over as I sit down at a bar stool and sip my butchered coffee. for a long while I was an espresso guy. but lives too short to demand snobbery. or in my case. to fucking long.
"so what brings you to london? last I heard you were in the vattican." Krapht says walking over, apronless and sitting next to me, a suspiciously red coffee steaming in his hands.
"the pope figured out that I was once Jesus. tried to arrange for my second coming, still regret filling in for that kid." I mutter. "wait."
"we keep tabs on you." Krapht explains.
"we?" I ask.
"yea, the other long lived. there's a few constants in life for us. first gossip, when you're 500 years old its all you really have left.
second is moving around, we don't stick together but we keep in touch.
and third is you...you've either killed or tried to kill every one of us at some point."
"not without good reasons." I point out.
Krapht nods. "there's a youngster. Gobels or something who's still mad about the 40's"
"Joe from Germany?"
"that's him... the rest of us kinda just figure that we got what we wanted. mostly. and that ruling really sucks."
"it does." I agree.
"I still like my authority though, which is why I run this coffee shop...that and I like my blood caffeinated." he says nodding to his own cup.
"so how did you live?"
"...my daughter she put me back together over a hundred years or so...thanks for letting her live by the way."
"how is she?" i ask.
"there was a scuffle. she didn't make it."
"who?" I ask.
"don't its settled."
"I wasn't going to."
"we know you!" Krapht hisses, "revenge is for the mortals, let her rest... its more than we can do."
...we sit and sip our drinks, mine tasted as bitter as our moods now.
"you know I could."
"thanks..." Krapht interupts. "but I'm doing ok. like I said, we keep tabs on you. if I wanted to move on I'd have found you."
I nod and drain the last of my coffee leaving behind a skin of creamy foam at the bottom of the mug.
"Well I'd best get moving. I've got some work to do." I say standing up and patting Krapht on the shoulder.
"before you go. can you answer a question?"
"sure." I say turning around.
"when everyone else is gone what will you do?"
"same thing I did last time. put the chairs up, mop the floors, lock the doors and wait for the next universe to come round." I say walking to the door, picking up my umbrella and leaving.
Krapht watches as the friendly middle aged man opens the door to his café and steps out side. when the door closes he watches as the old man disguise drops for a bit, the reaper raising his scythe in fairwell, for now. Krapht sits back for a bit before pulling out his phone to update the group. "deaths in London. he said there's work to do in person. be safe." he sends off before sighing, draining his bloody coffee and getting back to work.
|
Davv walked into the coffee shop, the air was crackling.
You can't put your finger on it, you try to shake it off.
Tables murmured with animated figures, a drink is spilled, eyes look up for a second, then back to their phones.
There is no lineup, but Davv wished there was.
The brush bearded barista greets Davv without words.
A tidal wave of heat hit Davv like a bus.
A double decker bus that hadn't been washed, and a diesel smoking engine, most definitely not on schedule for a service.
You know that expression "love at first sight?"
-this is the opposite.
Spite at first sight.
"what can I get for you today?"
The barista growls the words with the ferocity of a foundry.
He remembered Davv, now it comes back, like a film being flashed through.
A betrayal.
He left Davv literally hanging cliffside, and fell.
Was it a falling down thing? It was definitely something, but a betrayal nonetheless.
Davv died.
Not really dead. Injured and with fragmented memories.
This was ages ago.
"Lief, please just the latte today". The words are sent forth with a mix of emotions, hurt, angry, confusion.
"coming right up," Lief spits back.
You go for the weather-checked wallet to pay.
Spilling the change on the counter, Lief is studious, meticulous, even.
The passage of time is a clock, with the gears covered in tar.
Lief moves with deliberate movements, getting the measurements just right, moving like a well oiled machine.
The tension is thick, hypnotic. "This is my doing, stop it, he can't hurt me here, can he? Look at him, he enjoys?" I'm manufacturing a scenario that doesn't exist. Give him the benefit of the doubt ".
Out of nowhere, a cooler of ice water is thrown at Davv.
"This. This is where you get yours, Davv!"
Flung into a panic, like a leaf in the wind.
"This. I have waited too long to make sure you get yours"!
-"whuuut?!" "uh uhhh, I..I.."
"your Latte, on the house, enjoy!"
Davv dives for the drink, no poison, no surprise potions, or added tinctures. The right temp, great taste. Possibly one of the better Latte ever.
No. The best Latte.
"Social cues, were never my Forte, Davv."
Lief confessed.
"Coffee is my passion, my pride and joy, even"
Davv drinks the latte appreciatedly, and finds his way to the door. Outside, the wind nips at Davv, he pulls his dark coat close. Davv swivels back to wave at Lief, - he's gone.
"hrmph, prolly gone in the back to get stock".
Davv heads out, enjoying the Latte.
Maybe people can change.
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j9n81h5
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j9mao1p
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[WP] It finally happened. Through means not yet known, everyone's physical beauty reflects their innermost selves; the kind but portly girl is now an absolute bombshell, the asshole CEO is now hideous, and so on. Nothing prepared you for what you came face to face with in the mirror, though.
|
I hadnt really noticed at first. Maybe a passing thought about things feeling different around me crossed my mind, but I had been so deeply exhausted that I simply didnt have the energy to focus on it.
My exhaustion on the day *It* happened was more than usual. The previous night I had returned home late, as my friend had called me right as I was leaving the hospital where my mom was, saying his car had broken down and the tow company he called said since it they already going to be so late when they got there, they weren't able to make the detour to drop him off at home. So I drove all the way there, waited ages for the tow company, then drove my friend to his house before FINALLY being able to return to my own.
Then my dinner plan for the night (A Turkey sandwich) went down the drain when I realized my bread had started to mold, so my dinner consisted of rolled up cheese and turkey, and a cup of water.
But ofcourse, that couldnt be where it ended, because I spent the rest of the night cursing my landlord and my lack of warm blankets, since the heater was broken and Mr. Doesn't-Care-About-Tenants refused to come check it out for another month.
That morning, I'd slumped out of bed, changed, snatched up my toothbrush and toothpaste as I passed the bathroom, grabbed a bottle of water, and brushed my teeth in the car on the way to work to save the time I used up while trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep.
Physical exhaustion mixed with emotional exhaustion as I neared my building. For some reason, my coworkers hated me. Well, maybe not hated, but definitely avoided.
I'd never been very good with socializing, I've always come off as grumpy. I don't mean to, it's just that I'm also *so* tired. Hard to be chipper and talkative when you're dealing with sick family members and crappy landlords and bad sleep schedules.
It was only when I had clocked in that I noticed the change in environment. Everyone was distractedly walking around, talking to eachother, reading things off phones, computers, and the TV's with wide eyes, some were holding up mirrors, or their phone cameras, or they were peering into any reflective surface.
Upon closer inspection, I realized everyone looked different. I quickly got up to speed on the situation and joined in the crowd of people around the TV, waiting for an explanation on everyone's new look.
It baffled everyone, and my coworkers went around, asking questions, talking about the changes in family members and whatever else. Quickly, everyone figured out it was based on some sort of karma system.
Lana from the cafeteria had gone from witchy-old-lady to looking like a soft grandma. Her thin gray hair turned brilliant fluffy white.
Micheal from HR now had a constant wheeze in his voice, permanent coffee stained teeth, and random bald patches along his beard.
Robert in IT had lost the hunch in his back and stood tall, and his smile, whilst not very much different, somehow managed to seem so much brighter - happier than it did before.
Margaret remained more or less the time, though subtle differences made her appear more intimidating. Something about her eyes made a glare seem piercing, the slight incline in height made it feel like she towering over you. Her voice remained comforting and confident, just more so.
Once these observations were made, I realized my coworkers looking at me curiously. The looks started getting to me and I ducked into a bathroom to see myself clearly.
A few men were in there, staring in awe or disgust at their new looks, hardly acknowledging my presence.
I looked hesitantly in the mirror, scared to see I'd gone bald or something of that sort.
Instead, my usual unkempt hair looked freshly cut and brushed perfectly. My eyes, whilst always a blueish-gray, now looked as pure gray as a storm cloud and had smile lines at the edge that I hadnt had previously, but they gave a welcoming look to my face. Though, the darkness under my eye nearly made it look like I'd been punched.
I saw myself standing tall, a change from my usual slumped over posture.
On top of that, I noticed muscle in my arms. I was near tempted to flex at myself in the mirror, but held myself back because that would be horribly embarrassing.
In this mirror, I saw a tired man, with dark circles under his eyes and a scratchy beard in need of shaving. But I also saw a man I'd never considered myself to be. I watched myself smile as I found the words to describe the reflection.
I saw a man who looked like he ought to be proud of himself.
|
No one knew how it happened. People talked about magic, government, nanotechnology, you name it. Every conspiracy theory possible was formed around it.
Later, we would call it “The Change”. Other people tried to call it “Plastic Surgery for All” or “Changy McChange Face”, but they all fell flat. Nothing could describe it better than “The Change”.
One day, just an ordinary day as it seemed, people woke up looking different. They didn’t choose how they looked, though. After a couple days, people realized that you looked like how you were on the inside. An aggressive coworker would look angry with red hair and upset 24/7, while someone smart would wear glasses and look focused all of the time. You couldn’t nice what you were inside. Makeup didn’t work, and neither did hair dyes. Your true colors always showed.
Nobody knew at the time, though, that you could change your looks by changing yourself. Take a certain politician. His looks didn’t change much, to anyone’s surprise. But after people realized how to change their looks, he decided to reform himself. He started to volunteer with nonprofit organizations, and eventually created charities of his own. Over time, his orange and angry looks faded into more of a yellow and happier style.
Society has changed for the better. People are happier, more hopeful, and less likely to do crimes. Even though not everyone agrees with each other, we’ve decided to be nice about it. The world is now more or less of a utopia.
Everyone remembers where they were when The Change happened, as well as what they looked like. I certainly remember my first look in a mirror. It was during my teenage years, where my mental health was not good. My hair was jet black, with bangs that covered my eyes. I had shadows under my eyes that I couldn’t get rid of. Even my muscles had shrunk to make my body look scrawny. I knew that I was depressed, but seeing how my body had changed shook me.
I’m doing much better now. I have a happy life and wife, and we share a brilliant boy and a beautiful daughter. Every time I look at them, I’m reminded that this is what life is worth living for.
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jwpzmtl
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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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There were many stories of Dragons over the course of history and fantasy. Some were magnificent wyverns breathing fire and staring down the bravest knights. Some were rulers turning kingdoms into Empires or fighting off would-be conquerors. Some were commanders that lead people through the battlefield.
But most? Most were legends. The idea of dragon was more important than the official title. When a child looked up and asked if someone a dragon, that was as important as the official title could ever be.
Or at least that was a common opinion, and one that was useful to Oldigast the Dragoon. In the end, the title didn’t matter to him. But the confidence it inspired? that was irreplaceable.
“Is that the dragon?”
“They look so mighty!”
“Look ma! A dragon!”
Oldigast took a deep breath as they walked the streets of the burrow, heading down the main and deep into its heart. They’d been called here and travelled across lawns and neighbourhoods to answer that call. These people?
They needed a dragon-slayer, but not the kind that slayed dragons.
There was respect that came with the title, the kind that always rubbed Oldigast wrong. As they approached the throne room, the royal guards dropped to a knee in respect for the oncoming dragon. Oldigast stopped at the door and waited for them to stand.
But they didn’t.
“Sirs,” Oldigast opened.
“Yes Dragon?”
“I was born in a burrow just like this one. My mother raised me on the streets and didn’t know my blade until I was well over a year old.”
“And yet—”
“And yet I am a Dragon, yes, but I was born to the same standing as you. Kneel for your King, not me.”
Neither of the guards stood. Oldigast nodded. If it was their choice to kneel because of who he’d become, he wouldn’t begrudge them that.
The King’s chamber was a stunning court of opulence, shining rocks and the branchiest twigs were spread along the floor and embedded in the walls. Pieces of the human’s most wondrous materials hung from the ceiling. As Oldigast entered, the huddle advisors around the king scampered away, waiting at the side of of the room for the dragon to walk by.
“Your majesty,” Oldigast approached but didn’t take a knee, one of the few benefits of his station.
“Dragon, timely as ever.”
“If only I had wings. I take it this is about the beast stalking the grounds?”
“You saw it then?”
“Unless there were two, yes.”
“It’s a fearsome thing. The people are afraid to go outside. Our food stores are getting low and—”
“Of course.”
“Wait, I don’t want to force anyone to go outside the burrow at the moment... and yes, that includes you, Oldigast. You don’t need to go out. Our call for aid was a call for help. You giving the people hope is—”
“Your majesty,” Oldigast said, “that is exceedingly kind of you, but I didn’t come here to wait inside and inspire people.” Oldigast stood tall. They never wanted to show any weakness. It wouldn’t be befitting of a dragon but-
Bravery was a tricky thing. Dragons had to be brave, but you couldn’t be brave without being afraid.
“Then...” the King trailed off.
“You will have your freedom by nightfall,” Oldigast offered a curt bow, more to take their leave than as a sign of respect, “or I’ve failed, in which case I won’t live to see the day.”
“Dragon,” the King said as Oldigast started leaving the room. “The title fits.”
There were many stories of Dragons over the course of history and fantasy. Some were magnificent wyverns breathing fire and staring down the bravest knights. Some were rulers turning kingdoms into Empires or fighting off would-be conquerors. Some were commanders that lead people through the battlefield.
But Oldigast? Oldigast was a legend. The idea of dragon was more important than an official title. When a child looked up and called him a dragon, that was why he did this.
The evening breeze cascaded over the long grass as Oldigast slipped out of the burrow and drew his blade. He saw it before it smelled him, a shadow in the distance with glowing eyes, terrible fangs and horrible claws.
Oldigast took a deep breath. Bravery was a tricky thing.
“I am Oldigast the brown! Youngest of my litter! Defender of this burrow and Dragon! You won’t terrorize these mice any longer!” He drew his blade and pointed into towards the stalking beast.
The cat pounced, and the dragon proved his worth.
|
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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jbcg0ll
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jbbe5z2
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[WP] You've been abandoned on the battlefield, the enemy closing in. Forsaken by heaven and countrymen, you retreat to the deepest corner of your mind. If your gods won't help, perhaps the inner dark will. You cry out to the void. It answers.
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Nothing from my Marine training had prepared me for this kind of war. We could take any threat made by man, but the strange creatures of energy that had invaded our world seemed unstoppable.
Just like every other engagement, they had rolled over our troops, burning men and women with searing light, annihilating dozens with each blast. Our guns had no effect and now morale was non-existent.
The ranks had broken and my allies had left me behind, burned and too weak to try to retreat. I could hear the strange, high-pitched hum of the humanoid creatures of golden light as they swept through the bodies to finish off any still clinging to life. In moments, my life would be over.
And then what? I wondered. I didn't know if I believed in Heaven. When these things had first descended upon us, people had called them angels. But they had not communicated in any way and they were slaughtering us by the thousands. If they were angels, was Heaven truly my destination? Would I even want to be there?
I closed my eyes, tears rolling down my cheek. God had betrayed us. And if light was the enemy, then perhaps darkness would be my ally.
"Yes," whispered a voice in my mind.
Behind my eyelids was nothing but utter blackness. I stared into that void deep within.
"H-Help... Me..." I barely managed to breathe the words. It was enough.
My entire form began to vibrate at a low frequency, putting out a sonorous, bass hum. My eyes snapped open as life and vigor returned to me. One of the 'angels' was staring at me, hesitating for a moment
Energy flooding through me, I rose to my feet, my useless rifle forgotten. I could see tendrils of inky blackness emerging from my body as the darkness spread around my form.
The enemy screeched unnervingly and produced glowing, golden sword of light. I felt no fear, only a cold certainty from the void which steeled my nerves.
My enemy shot toward me, slashing with its weapon and I dodged to the side more nimbly than I could've anticipated. The tendrils of darkness lashed out in response, slashing through the sword and causing it to dissipate.
My body was now fully covered in that cool, protective darkness and I knew I could harm this being of light. I leapt toward it, striking it with blow after blow that caused it to dim and flicker as the darkness overcame the light.
In moments, the dwindling creature of light was snared in my tenebrous tentacles. It seemed to be trying to communicate, perhaps to ask for mercy. It would receive none. In a sudden jerk from several angles, I tore the creature into pieces that faded quickly out of existence.
There came shrieks of rage from the energy beings that remained. I could see that they meant to overwhelm me. Yet, I knew my ally would not desert me. The darkness, my own inner void whispered, and I raised my arms.
All around the battlefield, fallen soldiers, dead and wounded both, began to rise. The void gave me my army and I felt a sudden visceral satisfaction as the 'angels' withdrew.
This was only the beginning. With this power, we would annihilate the enemy and get to the truth of the matter.
And if it turned out these things were angels, sent by God, I vowed not to stop until that son of a bitch was dead too.
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As I lay in a puddle of my own blood, I know the gods have forsaken me, **the men I considered brothers** had forsaken me too, and by the looks of the enemies surrounding me, fate had too.
​
One last scream, one last beg to anyone resonates deep within me, and the darkness that had been swelling in my bosom answered... after all of these years.
​
\-What for? It inquired
\-I must fight
\-But why?
\-What else do I have dammit!
\-Not much, and soon, by the looks of these men, not even your life
\-They are coming, quick grant me strenght!
\-**NO**
\-What, but why **ZICK!**........ I had been stabbed for the last time.
\-It is time... this pain has being going for too long. The darkness, the nothingness, it awaits, and for people like us, there is nothing, no thinking, no being, we shall simply cease
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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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"I'm not worthy of such a title."
The denial was weak, tired, beleaguered, enfeebled, and, above all else, kind. It was because of this kindness that the council listened to the withering woman's rants.
"A dragon is one of such renown, as they have been since before I was a child. Warriors who have defied odds, scholars who solved impossible problems, leaders who averted catastrophe...these are dragons. There should be no reward to a bed-ridden woman with no accomplishments to her life. I am not worthy."
The room rang in silence for a few moments before one of the nobles of the council stood up. He was adorned in gold ornaments and rich clothes with intricate patterns. Every few seconds, there would be a small clink as one of the ornaments would be set on the table before him.
Several minutes went by before he finally stood before the council shirtless, revealing a myriad of scars. He met no one's gaze, staring intently at the floor before him.
"It is common for a dragon to be scarred, maimed, crippled, blind, hard of hearing, or debilitated in some fashion. After all, there is no greater honor than to go to battle, fight with all one's might, and survive."
A heavy pause rang out. The man's gaze lifted slightly. The scar over his left eye now shone in the dim light.
"Rarely is the family of a dragon considered, though. Wives, sons, husbands, daughters, parents...lovers...they all carry a burden when their loved ones go to war. The pain is theirs alone if their family, their flesh and blood, does not return. They give themselves up when their loved ones do return, a poor reflection of the person they were before diving into hell."
He cleared his throat before looking at the woman, no older than 40, who was frail and thin, shaking from the strain of keeping herself upright. She struggled to contain her emotions ferociously.
"But not all battlefields can be found on the map. They have different names. The heart. The mind. The kidney, liver, bones, or even skin. You have tried to deny the honorable title of dragon because it is an unearned title. I ask you to look into the mirror again."
At this point, the man limped around the council's seats, his gaze trained on the woman. A small sob escaped her.
"You lost your husband, a dragon, to his injuries after the war. Until the very moment he breathed no more, you had tended to him, dedicated much of yourself to his comfort and happiness. You fed him and helped him get through each day he remained among us.
A number of us have letters from him praising you for your persistence and mental fortitude, for you strengthened him when he had none of his own. He saw you raise your son with unwavering love and compassion, even as he saw the first signs that your own body was becoming a battlefield.
Then, when he came of age, your son was called to war. His service is also noted to be exemplary and his deeds are recorded. When he returned from the war, he suffered pain beyond what the sword could inflict when he learned his father had passed. You stepped forward, your body now at war with the cancer that had taken hold within you, and shared the strength of two parents with him.
For years, you supported your son, even when no longer able to stand on your own two feet. When breathing was the hardest task you could face in the day. You battled and fought, persisting against the odds and denying your enemy victory.
Cancer is less merciful than the sword, as is heartbreak."
The young man now stood before the woman, who now openly wept as she was on her hands and knees. "I am not worthy." She rhasped through her tears. All the dragons in the room stood for her. "I have not won."
Finally, the young man knelt before her. He damn near fell as his battle-ravaged leg gave out on him. "Mother, the doctor visited you while you slept yesterday. He cannot find the cancer and was able to hear you breathe clearly for the first time in years. You have been my rock and my light since I returned. I am still here because of you. If this is not victory, then the titles of everyone here mean nothing. You are the mightiest dragon of us all. You beat the enemies that no one can see, the demons that attack us within. Violence is intuitive. Compassion is practiced and embraced."
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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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[WP] Everyone summoned some relativly normal familiars and even some extremely rare ones were summoned. But who cares about a dragon or hydra when your axolotl is telling you cosmic knowledge beyond human comprehension.
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“Remember class enunciate the ur-syllables or else the spell will fail. Now everyone attempt your summoning!”. The old robed professor shouted over the din.
As my chanting of the magic invocation joined the drone filling the hall I focused on getting it all down right the words not meant to be spoken by mouths of flesh forcing out with strain as I invoked the various stages of the find familiar spell. As flashes of light flooded the room from everyone who succeeded the spell I saw something different. A black abyssal hole opened in my grimoire so deep and empty it hurt the eyes to see like staring at an inverted sun. After a second of straining my eyes something climbed out slowly flowingly like in water. I looked away for a second one part the headache the darkness gave me the other the shout from the desk a ways down from mine.
“Holy shit a dragon I summoned a fucking dragon!” Shouted my classmate A large winged beast sat on the crushed desk blinding light slowly dying down around it as I look back to see what I summoned.
“What the hell is this!” Sat on my grimoire where before was an abyssal hole in the natural flow of reality itself sat a squat fat amphibian remarkable only in that it was slightly bigger than normal and a shade of purple fading to white towards its tail.
An axolotl a small amphibian known mostly for its ability to regenerate and it’s near suicidal levels of idiocy.
“My class mate summoned a dragon and I summoned a frog that tries to eat anything that fits in its mouth. Yup that sums up my life perfectly” Dissapointed would be an understatement I mean I wasn’t hoping for anything crazy like a dragon or chimera. Something simple like a dog or spider or venomous fay creature something that would fit with my proficiency in healing magics. Instead I get something that I’ll have to actively try and keep alive.
“Good work most of you some summons more impressive than others but at least none of you blew yourselves up like my last class.” The professor droned on with his lesson about the contract with the summon as I stared at the beady dark eyes in the wide face of my new familiar.
Suddenly I realized I was hearing something other than the teacher something that felt like an icy blade plinking along the taught nerves or my brain. “Long has it been since last I saw this world not since the dawn age when I seeded my lesser spawn to test its waters as a spawning ground.”
I blink in shock trying to tell where the voice was coming from but unable to look around my eyes felt locked to the unnaturally black beads.
“So this is what’s risen as the dominant race of this cycle. Less chitinous than the last. I approve though still no gills to live in the deeps as ascendant beings should”
The voice still unnatural became less painful to hear with each word from a plucking of taught nerves to strumming of strings on a base made of stars.
“A…are…are you talking? Is this a axolotl speaking in my head or have I snapped?” Familiars shouldn’t be able to speak even the strongest have the intellect of a dog let alone the ability to communicate.
“Axolotl is that the name for my lesserspawn in this cycle. Good if you have a name for them surely they must still exist. And yes primate I am communicating with you but silence the outer voice I hear the thrumming of your thoughts like a spawn eggs first mewling in the shadows just fine no need to let the others know I can communicate to you.”
I sit down in shock trying not to show it on my face as the professor starts marking on the chalkboard his crow familiar sat on his shoulder breaking down the binding circle we used to permanently tie ourselves to our familiar.
I open my mouth then close it a few times like a fish that’s been pulled out of its pond into the void of space before trying to think toward the not axolotl staring at me intently.
“I’m guessing whatever you are it’s not the plain amphibian I had thought. So who or what are you? And given how you appeared out of a painful to look at hole in reality. What do you want?”
I stare down at the strangely comet like coloration of the being seeing deep within the hues of its skin sparkling like vastly distant stars dying and forming endlessly.
“You lack both the knowledge and the thinking organs to properly describe myself without killing you. To bring it to your base understanding of reality. I am an… in your minds words urgoddess darkness mother of teeming shadows. And as for what I want? I want to return to my …. slumber in the space between worlds it was you a mortal a being who’s soul is like words written in shifting sand compared to me. That summoned me I am most curious how.”
As I tried to ignore the growing panic that I had actually summoned some kind of ancient goddess I finally tore my eyes away from the not quiet amphibian to look around everyone was distracted either comparing their familiars or admiring the greater familiars such as the dragon.
“Well… urgoddess I want to learn magic that’s what a familiar is supposed to help us do so any chance that’s in the cards?” I thought as my eyes fell back on the increasingly insane thing sitting on my grimoire.
The black beads not eyes but portals bore into me like they where laying bare all I was had been or would be judging and weighing me like a spec of dust.
“I can provide you knowledge. Of many things magic, physics, reality itself though my knowledge is dangerous and costly. First I shall teach you how to regrow your mortal form from any wound but I will require pain and blood a sacrifice. Become my student and should you survive you may ascend beyond mortality beyond being words in sand and become words written in the death and birth of stars.”
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"Everything in this life is not to be taken for granted. Thus you can achieve peace by listening to your inner voice. It is not to be shunned but embraced. You can master your own destiny by putting in your own effort. The universe can help you achieve the rest."
I stared at the pink and white axolotl sitting on my kitchen counter, hot mug of coffee still in hand, head throbbing from waking up too darn late in the morning, wondering just how the hell all my life decisions lead me to this moment.
"I haven't even drank my coffee yet."
"Do you think caffeine can sustain you? The prolonging effects will outweigh the benefits of percieved momentary gain."
"... *This mother fucker.*" I shook my head as I drank the coffee. Little bastard be damned.
Julio sat there on my counter, watching with his amphibian eyes. I tried not to pay him any mind as I got my breakfast ready. I was starving and wanted to help get rid of the headache as quick as possible.
Much to my annoyance, my phone rang. The ringtone of Redbone's "Come and Get Your Love" usually a comfort. At this moment though it was a nuisance, irritating my throbbing head even further. Peering over while carefully pouring pancake batter on a pan, the picture of my on again off again girlfriend did little to better my mood.
"Damn it not Jackie again."
"Ah, your mate who wishes to copulate as a means of further cementing your relationship. But that cannot proceed due to the fact that biologically speaking-"
"Julio I swear to God if you open that can of worms I'll put you in a shoebox".
The axolotl stopped speaking almost immediately. Now I was confused. Usually he'd continue on with whatever point he was making, warnings of any kind not really phasing him at all. I watched my tiny companion as he sat there on my kitchen counter. His little horns moving a bit like ears when you're trying to listen better. Then he tilted his head.
"You won't give me my can of worms?"
*What?* Now I was confused.
We unwittingly shared a staring contest as my pancake cooked and Julio sat there. He offered no explanation. Just watched me as a tiny amphibian only could. And then it hit me.
"Ahhh... food. Right."
Julio wasn't a jumpy expressive sort. He was always rather relaxed and sat still. Even so, it seemed like he was a bit excited as I pulled out the literal can of worms from my fridge that would serve as his breakfast. I set down his tiny Axolotl sized plate and a tiny axolotl sized water bin for him. The worms slid out of the can and onto the plate as he slowly crawled over, each hand so tiny and pulling him forwards. Then with his tiny mouth he chewed onto the dead frozen worms.
"I can't believe you eat that stuff."
"It is the sustinance that fed my kind for generations. And it is yummy."
"Ah."
The smell of burning dragged me back to the stove. My damned pancake was all black on the bottom. Fully cooked but unsatisfying. I bunged it over to the trash as I carefully started another pancake.
I really hoped Jackie wouldn't call again. We already were in a world of trouble after she used that spell she bought off Crazy Steve on the bus. "It'll bring you life" it said. It will surely give us our very own kid, Steve said. Damn Jackie being so baby crazy she'd use literal magic to summon a kid.
And now I was stuck with a talking axolotl.
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[WP] You thought your friend was just a little delusional with their whole…insisting they were a god business. But it was nothing too severe, I mean, you got a good laugh out of it sometimes. That was until they convinced the other gods to make you one as well…
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"What do you mean, Reza? I've been really cool about this whole god thing, but I don't know what was in that Chai, and I don't consent to whateverthehell's *going on here!*"
The stars and cosmos swirled around the two.
"It's okay, Armin," Reza cooed, "Just relax and let your body float. I've told you I'm a god, but I'm not the only one, y'know? There are gods for everything, so I asked them for a favor; that's why we're here."
Armin was losing his balance but clenched his eyes and let his body go limp. When he dared open his eyes, he was upright with Reza, and she had changed.
"Uhhh...Reza?" Armin choked out, his voice cracking, "What, uh, wh-wh-what happened to you?"
Armin had known Reza for three and a half years. She had always been a bigger girl but pretty in her own way. At least, that's what Armin thought. Really, she had been morbidly obese and her skin pock-marked and scarred. Her hair was greasy and ragged, and her shabby clothes always blatently showed her low economic status.
Now, she was slim, losing a couple hundred pounds. Her skin had become immaculate and untouched . Her hair had become light and voluminous. She was draped in silks and jewels, her clothes made of loose, unsown fabrics wrapped and lightly draped across her frame. And, even better to Armin's eyes, Reza had not lost her gleaming green eyes, the slight bend of her nose. She still showed the same expressions when she wanted to help Armin.
"Well, this is what I really look like. In *my* world, I'm the goddess of acceptance. You were the only one in my time on your world who ever accepted me for who and how I was. That's why I asked."
Armin snapped to attention, "Wait. Okay, you're a god. And there's others. But what was the favor? Just bringing me to..." Armin looms around confusedly, "...here?"
Reza chuckles, "No." she sighs, "I asked for you to be elevated to godhood as well. It's how we choose new gods, elevating worthy mortals!" A bright smile spreds across Reza's face, only barely obscured by a white veil hanging down from just below her eyes.
"Uhh...okay. So I'm to be a god?"
"Yes!"
"Of?"
"Excuse me?" Reza tilts her head.
"Well, you said you're the god of acceptance." Reza nods her head in the affirmative, "So what am I supposed to be the god of?"
"Oh, that's easy!" Reza chuckles, "You're given the portfolio that moat fits your dominant traits in life! Like what you did, how you thought, and how you impacted others."
Armin's heart stopped. "Reza, you don't know me the way you think."
Reza's beautiful, glimmering green, doe eyes never even wavered, "What do you mean silly?"
Trembling, Armin took a deep breath, released it, and took in another, "I've always been good at hiding my problems, but I've been messed up in the head for most of my life. I've had depression really bad and tried therapy and meds, but nothing ever worked for very long." Tears welled up in his eyes, "I've been in the hospital a few times. I, uh..." Armin turns his head, his voice breaking with pain, "I couldn't handle it a couple of times and tried to make it stop, uh, the stupid way. Y'know... a couple of different times." He wipes his face with his arm. His tears were bizarrely warm and timgled on his face. Though no light came from his tears, he could feel a glow eminate from them as though he could see a golden light.
Reza's curious, raised eyebrows belied her understanding. "I know my Armin. I know your pain. But-"
"No!" he snapped, "You *don't* know!" You can not have known that my dominant trait is pain! Sadness! SUICIDE! Am I to be so disgusting as to be the god of suicide?!" Armin grabs at his face, sobbing those warm, almost burning tears.
He feels the gentle caress of Reza's hands atop his shoulders. "Look at me, my Armin."
Armin raises his head. His eyelids have been so clenched it hurts to peel them apart, but he would never divert his gaze from Reza. "I know you *better,* my Armin. Those nasty thoughts? Those intrusive, negative bits of misery? They're loud," she says poking him in the center of his forehead, "but they are not ALL you are. You have true greatness in you." She raises Armin to a standing position by his forearm, which has been encased in a strange, golden gauntlet. Before Armin's eyes, a golden shield emblazoned with a crest of his favorite animal in a sheen, metallic shade of his favorite color.
"I'm... something else..." Armin muttered.
"You never judged me, Armin. But, more than that, you have always protected me from the evils and hate of your world."
Armin felt his lightless yet glowing tears form a visor to the helmet sealing upon his head. It felt as though his skull had never been complete before the helmet formed and that his eyes had never truly seen before the visor before his eyes.
"You are my guardian, Armin. A defender and knight. Now rise, the god of protection!"
*How did you envision Armin? How did his shield look? Let me know along with any feedback!*
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When I was a child, I envisioned God as a perfect creator, kind yet infinitely calculated. When my parents would argue, I would begin to question why he couldn’t stop them. Maybe he was busy being a God on another world, or maybe this was all somehow part of his plan, and in the end it would turn out all right. I never consciously made the decision to stop believing in God. I guess the whole idea started to sound pretty ridiculous as I got older. My best friend had always been a bit of a religious zealot. Maybe he had been through hard times and relied on a higher power like me. One day, we were sitting on an old stone bridge over a fast-flowing stream, our usual hangout spot, and he said to me, "I feel guilty keeping secrets from you." He trailed off, but I prodded him to open up. "I know this is going to sound crazy to you, but I can feel the spirit of God in my body." I thought it was a little weird how he phrased it, but I figured he just meant he had a strong religious conviction. "Every day I can feel myself becoming something more than human. I see things differently, I hear things differently. I’m scared. I need someone I can talk to who can keep me grounded in my humanity." At this point, I thought he had gone off his rocker but I wanted to support him if he was going through a tough time. I sat and talked with him for hours. He never really made it clear what he meant by “more than human.” I didn’t see him for several months, and I forgot all about our conversation. That was until I heard a ringing in my head: "You have been chosen. You have been found to be worthy of the authority." Suddenly my vision blurred, and billions of faces and trillions of voices all entered my mind at once. The birth of the universe, the genesis of humanity, humanity’s eventual fall, and the collapse of the universe—each of these things I perceived in their infinitesimally short existences. I screamed, but the voice that erupted was that of everyone who ever had, has, would, or could exist. All was me, and I was all. My mind fractured and repaired itself in an eternal war between insanity and clarity. I existed in a state of constant contradiction. I created a boulder so heavy I could not lift it, and then I lifted it. Nothing meant anything, and everything was beautiful. I found the truth, and I found it to be meaningless. All was pain, and all was joy. I wished for death, but I was death. Through all these things, I failed to notice one thing: the kid whose parents were arguing with each other for God knows what reason.
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[WP] Standing at the altar, with tears in your eyes you say “I do.” The cultists and the thing they summoned are visibly confused
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He didn't really understand what she wanted from him. At least what she couldn't readily attain already.
"We should probably talk about that." She randomly admitted.
"What? The wall of blood in my room?"
She looked at him with eyes inverted in color. White pupils and orange irises inside a well of black. He remembered the first time they locked on to him and it made him shiver a little.
"No. What you said at the altar."
He worried as he tried to recall it correctly. "The altar? That thing at the mansion? The giant circle?"
Ash paused after another bite of her sandwich. "Yes the giant summoning room. I understand it was all a bit stressful. But try to follow me here."
When someone labeled Goddess of Darkness says to follow them, you're following them whether you like it or not. Darko found himself back in the same spot, in the same room, still coated in runic symbols, and chained to the slab. The strategic cuts still burning as the metal bit into his wrists and ankles.
The overwhelming terror of the whole experience flooding back to him. It was like he never left. His brain taking a front row seat to the things he thought. Ash herself, 20 feet taller, a glimpse of some forgotten time and place. Her features cold and heartless.
"Those who hath summoned me." She demanded. "Bow your worthless heads."
"*We bow down, Ashtoret*!" The cultists repeated.
The chant grew as she seemed to grow in Darko's vision. The woman cupping a massive hand over his skull. A scent of blood and smoke enveloping him.
"What say you, little lamb?" She spoke. "Do you submit? Do you wish for death? For guidance in the abyss?"
He struggled a little, the metal biting further under his skin. The chanting growing more stern, feverish. The voices growing louder.
"...I do."
Everything stopped. The palm felt like stone. The room quiet, and a feeling of heat subsiding.
"Interesting." She smiled to herself.
As she drew back, he was able to see the lines in the brickwork glowing. Pulsating. The cultists themselves stopping to look at the walls. Several stepping in closer, fearful of the outside now.
"What have you done?!" One said, snatching him by the hair.
"He's tainted the circle!" Another claimed. "We've lost control!"
Ash's head was skyward, eyes and mouth aglow as the building itself quaked. The supports groaning angrily as things elsewhere fell and shattered. Darko fell himself flying like a doll, sucked away into a portal.
And then they were back on the floor of the hallway. Darko gasping, quickly checking his body for the wounds he'd let heal. Ash still eating her sandwich as if she hadn't left her spot at all.
"This is good." She remarked. "They call this a Poor Boy?"
"I... Um..." Darko suggested. "Let's focus on all of that. Everything you just showed me."
"Right." She smiled as she crumbled the wrapper, "Sorry."
She stood and floated a little off the ground. Swimming in the air to be slightly over Darko.
"So basically. By being offered as my blood sacrifice, you gave your blood to me."
"That sounds like what something like that is used for. Yes." He fretted.
"As such, during my time on the mortal plane, we are bound to each other." She considered. "You offered your hand, and I took it."
"Because I said 'I do'?" He wondered. "You asked me and I said yes!"
"Right."
"Because I didn't want to die. Because I was *going* to die."
"No you weren't!" She promised. "...Okay. Just a little actually. But it wouldn't have been that bad. Honest."
"Ash."
She rolled and lazily backstroked in place for a moment. Oddly enough, she was eating potato wedges now.
Darko opened the food bag with a crunch before looking back at her in dismay.
"Yes?"
"Those my potato wedges??"
"I thought we'd share." She frowned a little. "But yes, we are bound by arcane rule. We are in tow of each other until the end of your days, if you wish."
"That doesn't sound ominous." Darko said through his teeth.
"It's not." She promised.
And immediately reneged. "No, because the paladins are onto you. And the cult thinks I just give them anything they want in exchange for my presence. And they may try to harm you. Should the need arise. But all in all, not bad."
Darko simply sat in his spot against the wall. "Do you get some kind of sick enjoyment out of this?"
"Just a little bit. Yes." She grinned.
"Lovely." Darko mentioned. "That explains the random bum that kept chasing me earlier."
"Oh him? He a superfan. He just really wanted to be immortal. Which is odd. I extended his life force tenfold. You'd think a millenia would get boring?"
She found Darko quietly staring at her against as she stayed deep into her musings. The mildly wizened features scrunching in concern.
"That ain't right." He confessed.
"Now you're just being paranoid."
"Not being paranoid when random people keep trying to re-sacrifice you to their favorite god. But I'm the one whose overly paranoid?"
"Yes? That's the easy part anyway."
---
r/Jamaican_Dynamite
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I always imagined Death as a shadow bearing a scythe, endlessly floating, searching for souls to be reaped. Man, that's how they depict him on TV. I couldn't have guessed that Death was almost as beautiful as Alicia. It had ghost-white skin, long black hair, and eyes that spoke love. It was only when I looked closer that I saw that Death was an amalgamation, that on one side it represented perfect flesh, and on the other, the hideousness of money, that the phrase Death and Taxes meant more than an inevitability.
I was stunned, as you can imagine. I was too terrified to feel scared if that makes sense. I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. It got worse when I glanced at the minister, who'd been replaced with three cultists in black robes carrying crimson red books. It was sudden, inexplicable, and the first thought I could muster was that I was going crazy, seeing things. Hallucinating.
So I said "I do," well... because it was the next thing I was supposed to say. She'd just said her vows and the minister was delivering mine. "Do you, Tom, take Alicia to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have, to hold, for now and until death do you part?"
I never expected Death and his henchmen to fucking show up. Pardon my French. You know, giving this interview was probably a bad idea.
"So, Death appeared, and then what happened?" the man behind the camera asked.
Well, Death was there for only a moment. And apparently, nobody saw it but me. I was the fucking crazy one, well... until now. Everyone else just saw her... Man, you know I can't do this. It's still raw, even after all these years. We were getting fucking married, you know. I loved her. Still do.
"Just stay calm. We don't think you're crazy. Maybe when you were the only one."
You don't know what it's like man, losing the love of your life at the altar because Death decides to do you part. Why me? Why us? There was nothing wrong with us. We were a happy couple - loved each other, wanted kids and a family and all that.
"I understand. So, do you think there was any motive for Death to do this? Any at all."
None. It's a bunch of horseshit. Death must be high on itself or something, now that's it happening everywhere.
"That's the most concerning thing, Tom. You were the first to come out with a story like this publicly. We want to know if there's some common thread, some theme about what Death is doing here. Certainly, if we could prevent any more deaths..."
I don't know. The only thing I could think of was the taxes part. Maybe Death is in need of more coin and is out to ruin weddings since they're so expensive and shit.
"Hmmm"
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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kccmysm
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kcbx937
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[WP] “Impale me with stake” He asked his wife , hoping that the vampire hunter would spare his family. Ten years later, he woke up in a coffin and realized that the vampire hunter had killed his wife and son. Now, the young vampire wants revenge.
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Dirt and darkness.
That’s all that greets me with my return to the living. The rotted wood of the cheap pressboard coffin I had my wife bury me in is little more than soggy splinters around me.
Slowly, I start to dig. Scooping handfuls of soil away from my chest and face, compacting it to the sides of my body. I reach the moist layer of surface earth in seconds and break through.
I pause with just my hand outside my earthy tomb and feel nothing but cool air. No burning rays from the infernal sun.
I leap out of the ground, landing slowly as I take in the decayed ruins of my family’s home. What once was a quaint log cabin is now little more than a chimney with weeds. The stone is grey in the moonlight, the wood remaining is rotted but was clearly burned. The emptiness of my soul tugs me forward. The blackness of the rage seething at the corners of my vision can’t block out the image that my eyes so clearly see.
There, on the floor of the cabin. Interwoven with weeds and refuse from whatever animals have passed through the remains of my existence…are the bones of my family.
My mind flashes back through time. My wife, my beautiful Mikayla, begging me to find another way as I push a stake into her hands.
“She’s coming for ME not you”
I remember whispering as I stared into her eyes, those twin orbs of warm brown like chocolate dipped in honey.
I wiped her tears away with one hand as the other held the stake firm in her grasp. The cries of our infant sound broken by her gasping breaths.
“I will find you again my love. You must live, Jacob must live. My death is all that will guarantee that”
SNAP
I spin around out of my reverie. Fangs sliding out as venom floods my mouth. I can feel the shadows around me tense like the tendons in my hands.
Leaning against a tree is a vampire. His own fangs flashing as he grins at me. The stake in his hands broken cleanly in two.
“You know, I expected a little more fanfare for an elder rising from their grave”
His cocky tone mocks me as much as his words.
“You’re what? 600? 700 years old? But you CLAWED out of the ground? Like a mole rat haha”
His laughter rings out as he pushes off the tree and strolls around the displaced dirt of my former resting place.
His words are nonsense. I was barely thirty when I was turned and not a day later did I hand the stake to Mikayla that I thought would be the end of it.
His relaxed stroll takes him one step too close however.
My shadow, the dark flickering reflection of me on the ground snaps around his foot to above the ankle.
His eyes widen with sudden surprise, the laughter dead in his throat.
But not dead enough for me.
“You dare defile this place with humor?”
I can taste the anger behind every word. My breath is little more than flame in my throat.
“WAI-“
His cry is cut off by hand seizing him by the face. The same claws that raked the dirt from my former corpse now slice into the flesh of his face. I feel his jaw start to fracture as blood trickles steadily down my hand.
“No more words clown. No more comedy. I will have tastes of your fear and pain”
I drag him closer as I speak, his feet are kicking wildly as his hands try to pry my fingers away.
The panic in his eyes calls to the predator in me.
A breath, not mine nor his, the whisper quiet inhalation of someone trying to be silent.
I fling the fool aside and turn slowly, letting my shadow wrap again around his leg as his curses fill the air.
My gaze locks with twin pools of brown, chocolate dipped in honey. For just a moment my heart fills with something other than hate.
“Let him go Arthur. He’s with me”
Her voice. So familiar but so alien. So similar but so different.
I sigh, the emptiness returning to my being like it always belonged,
“Sarah”
She has her twin’s face, my wife’s face. But older, not by much but enough for the ghost of wrinkles to show.
Her hand grips the hilt of the sword held in front of her tighter.
“Don’t make me slay you”
Tears twinkle at the edge of her eyes,
“Please Arthur”
I close my eyes and sigh again. Feeling my shadow self dissipate like a wisp of smoke from the sudden extinguishing of my rage.
“By the blood it’s about time”
I hear the fool jump up from behind me and start to brush off his leather pants.
“You coulda warned me he had that shadow trick”
She hasn’t taken her eyes off of me, nor dropped her sword even a fraction of an inch.
“I’ve never even heard of a shadow trick and he’s only been a vampire for something like ten years so don’t blame me Tol”
Her familiar, easy retort is both enlightening and sad.
“Ten years” I whisper as I look back at the ruins.
I hear her sheath the sword and step cautiously forward.
“Yes. Ten years since that bitch burned my sister and my nephew alive for hiding YOU”
Her voice is a tapestry of anger and pain.
I don’t need to look to know the tears have escaped the confines of her eyes.
My vision doesn’t water, it no longer can. I feel that somehow, know it like I know how to breathe and walk. The tears will never come for my dead family, at least not from me.
“Where is the vampire hunter?”
I turn as I ask the question.
I ignore the fury and agony on her face just as I do the twinge of echoing pain in my chest.
“Where is Lillian?”
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Friedrich von Escheloh, also known as Great Fritz to his admirers. Famous for hunting down the most bloodthirsty vampires, like that one time when he killed a vampire ancestor.
In reality, he's a coward that targets vampires that only drink animal blood or other red liquids, like beet juice.
Ha\~ I'm one of his victims...
My wife, Isabella, was a human... Beautiful chestnut hair and hazel eyes...
Our son, Karl, was also a full blooded human. We adopted him when he was a street rat. Mischievous, but kind hearted.
Both of them knew I'm a vampire that loves beet juice.
We lived happily til that bastard got a hold of my trail. I asked Isabella to stake me, so that he'd go away...
Big mistake. He killed her and Karl, ostensibly because they hid a high profile vampire. In truth, he killed them because they "stole his mark."
Upon hearing that, I gnashed my teeth. Unfortunately, the staking drained my strength, and recovery took a day.
The others in the village believe none of what he said, and demanded justice... Angered by this, he burnt the village down and left no survivors. He covered this up by pinning the blame on the supposed high profile vampire.
I got my strength back a day after he left... That was when I made a pact... To utterly destroy him.
That being said, I need to be smart about this. Digging up dirt on him would just end up my word against his. Then it hit me...
I sent a hit for myself directly to the bastard, saying a weak vampire was found wandering in the nearby woods.
I managed to incapacitate him, and brought him to a shed somewhere. Which brings us to the current time.
"Ugh..." Fritz moans while being tied to a chair.
"Wake up." I slap him.
"Argh! What?!" He looked around as his heart rate soared. "W-Where am I?!"
"Hello Fritz. Remember me?"
"Who are you?! You won't get away with this!"
I punch his face.
"Gah! Why are you doing this...? Wait... you're..." Fear colors his face.
"Yes, I was the 'mark they stole from you.'"
"I-Impossible! I clearly saw it was in your heart!"
"Loveborne anger can do wonders."
"L-Love?! As if a monster—" I knock him out.
Time for step 2: turning him. Urp. Blegh! Even his blood is disgusting.
Next, leave him to starve. Vampires only need blood or their chosen red liquid for sustenance. The longer they go without, the more their instincts kick in. As his patron, I can force him to require human blood. I erase his memories of me... my "tracks," but imprint a directive to leave a signature after draining his victim.
While he starves, I spread rumors that he made a deal with a high profile vampire. To make this believable, I left his signature next to drained victims.
I'm sorry for using your death. I hope you can understand...
The bastard eventually breaks free and starts feasting on the nearby villages.
My work here is done.
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kr4682d
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kr3tdh6
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[WP] You are a poor child going to a popular magic school at your mentors insistence, telling you to "broaden your horizon." But when you get there you realise everyone is doing magic differently to what your mentor taught. They use silly chants and carry big ugly books around.
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My master always said he had no time for "useless spot-on-the-wall magic." He was old. Very old. And, as best as I could tell, I must have been his one and only apprentice. Ever. My parents - they never wanted a son anyway - learned of this mad old hermit in the hills and convinced him to take their son in exchange for 100 gold crowns. Needed the coin they said. House needs repairs, and my brother was off to the military to fight in the East. The old man, cantankerous though he was, agreed to their terms and so I was his. I thought I'd spend my days shoveling the corral, or scrubbing dishes, and the Old Man let my parents leave thinking as much, but then he got this wily look in his eye.
Stand to, boy - The old man rumbled once they were beyond sight. Let's have a look at you. Tall, yes, even for one so young. Look me in the eye boy, I need to know if you've got the strength in you. Do as I say now, or you'll find yourself scrubbing the chamberpot till dawn. The old man stared into my eyes for a few moments, and a strange sensation took over me. Then he grinned again, and told me that I was his apprentice now, and that I must do as he says. He told me he'd pass on all he knew, for he was old and not long for this world, and that the knowledge he carried must outlive him.
And so began my training. What my parents didn't know, in fact what hardly anyone alive knew was that this old man had once been the chief battle mage to the last king, and had almost prevented the prince from usurping the throne. As such, the now king had a price on the Old Man's head large enough that anyone who learned of him wouldn't hesitate to sell him out. And I was now his apprentice. I had seen the wizards at the academy a few times, all of them with their decorated robes, with large wooden staffs and always lugging around some big ugly book, muttering some sing-songy chant. I'd seen it a hundred times, and that's what I'd known magic to be. Oh, they could manage to get the book to float in front of them, some of them, given enough time could make water come out of the ground, or make objects around them bend into interesting shapes. Stuff my master would always call "spot on the wall" magic, and seeing it always sent him into the foulest mood, ranting and raving about wasted potential and those empty headed buffoons running the academy.
That's not at all the kind of magic my master taught me. He told me, I needed to learn battle magic. The power of fire and ice. The power to call lightning from my fingertips. He also taught me alchemy, and metalworking. Told me I needed to learn how things worked and why. It wasn't enough to learn how to hammer a chunk of iron into a sword, I had to learn why the sword needed to be iron. Had to learn why the sword was better after being worked in the fire instead of carved out of the iron. Had to learn about different kinds of plants, and which ones can heal. Which ones can poison. And, for a long time, I hated him for it. His was a cruel tutelage, and I longed for the academy. Convinced they knew better than this madman in his shack in the hills. Finally, having heard enough of my whining, the old man told me he'd send me off to the academy, if only to show me how wrong I was.
And so it was. I arrived at the beginning of the study year, placed into a group of those at a similar age to me. The instructor, a portly fellow with hair just starting to grey requested I demonstrate a simple working, that of making mage light. Now, most of the students had not yet earned a staff, (I had learned during my orientation that the staff was only for older, more advanced students.) and so they had these wants, each about half as long as an arm, and about as thick as a finger, and most of them had various symbols carved into them. The instructor told me to get out my want and turn my grimoire to so-and-so page and the instructions would show me how to make the mage light. Before he could finish saying that, I had a ball of fire the size of my fist burning an arm span over my head, burning silently and steadily with a brilliant red orange glow. My master had taught me without the limitation of a book or want or staff, and I was only ever allowed to work my magic silently. I also did it in a fraction of the time other students needed. The portly instructor just sat there, jaw agape for a full moment before coming to his senses and telling me I could stop. The instructor then demanded to know how I had learned to do such a thing. Who had taught me. All I could answer was that my master forbid me from speaking of him to anyone without his permission, and that he hadn't given me permission.
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So, fair warning. This is inspired by The Laundry Files.
"You do magic with your naked BRAIN?"
"_Whahaha. Listen to the bumpkin. Pray tell me, peasant. WHAT else are you supposed to use. Your arse?_"
"I use a COMPUTER! Or failing that, a spell circle. Good lord. Even a pile of rocks will do. What I DON'T do is try to channel the naked forces of creation and destruction directly through my GOD DAMNED GREY MATTER."
"_Oh pish tosh. Naked superstition. Magic is naturally harmless and benign._"
"It bloody is not. Do you forget the Demon that possessed Master Estrada last week. Or the outbreak of fairies that infested your underwear drawer the week before. What about that magic Pox you caught a month ago."
"_Shut up about that. I told you that in confidence. And the others were just magical animals. They don't count. Magic is fundamentally benign._"
"... the potion that turned the third years into zombies, the ghosts selling underage pornography, the student bedroom that EATS anyone assigned to it ..."
"_Merely accidents and mishaps._"
"You were nearly drowned by a toilet!"
"_You're exaggerating. I was merely ... washed ... a bit._"
"I had to give you the Kiss of Life ... when you were covered in toilet water. Seriously. Name one thing magical you've encountered this year, that didn't destroy your clothing, try to bite your arm off, or make off with your wallet."
"_... what's your point ..._"
"Magic is inherently malevolent. We're taking the fundamental forces of the Universe and giving them a good twist. And the last thing the Universe likes is a god-damned wedgie. If you don't work it at least at one remove, it will eat your brain."
"_But isn't that what the magic books do?_"
"They store spells. No computational ability at all. Not unless you get a pen and treat them like a find-a-word. And I've checked. They're incredibly susceptible to spontaneous magical ... edits. How do you think second year Dreadlord Bates self immolated first week? Haven't you noticed how crazy the teachers are? And they're merely the survivors. Each year this school takes on over a hundred first years. An average of twelve graduate. I've checked."
"_Ummm. Could I borrow your computer._"
"Oh hell no. Here's some rocks."
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lke3xth
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lke0yfp
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[WP] “So my mom is half-Fae, and my dad is half-dragon; that’s where my powers come from. How about you?” “I’m half-mermaid on my mom’s side, hence the wheelchair.” Your new magic school roommates suddenly turn to you. “What about you?”
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"What about you?" The dragon-fea-girl Tiffany said.
"Well, um it's a bit hard to explain." I said as my nervous hands start twisting the bottom of my t-shirt as this has been something I've never told my friends back home in the village. Mom and dad said they'd not understand.
"I mean, you look, you know, regular," Alice said from her wheelchair, "Not that it's weird, just, you know, not common."
I look at them both, Tiffany with her hair the colour of autumn leaves, bracelets of deep green scales up here arms. Alice, a viciously cute face that would one day turn into dangerous beauty, her fin that of a shark.
Then I think of how I must look to them.
Plain, human, regular.
"Well, I... My..." I start, then pause because I honestly don't know where to begin.
"You know what, it's ok, you can tell us when you..." Tiffany begins with a smile at seeing my consternation.
"No! Thank you, I want to, just, need to know where to begin." I say and Tiffany nods and jumps up to her part of our bunk bed.
"So, well, technically, I'm human. Like both my mum and dad are human. But. Well. They didn't know I was conceived for several months. I, well, I was their happy little accident. They say that with love though. It's just that. Back then they traveled, like a lot, they were adventurers. Umm, I just need a glass of water." I say and run the tap.
"So, they were adventurers, good ones too, they had this friend who was a really strong wizard. Hector. And well... They did a lot of dimensional travel together with him, which like , it affects a growing baby more than a fully grown human. So, like I'm fully Human. But I was probably conceived in a hell dimension? That or just before they went there depending on which time the... Ehh conceiving... Happened...
"And well, then they traveled to a dimension filled with chaos energy through an astral plane close to Death's domain and from there they had to flee from this demon and hide in a place outside regular time... That's about when they realised I was going along."
"Ohh, you weren't kidding about it being complicated. But like, when they realised they had you, they went back home didn't they?" Alice says giving me her full attention.
"They wanted to, but like, they couldn't. Too many looking for them on those paths see." I say.
"So, out with it, what happened next?" Tiffany said from above.
"Well, they were in this place outside regular time as I said, and they had to kinda, go deeper? So they went from there really far into the astral, like, where ancient eldritch gods go to die - far into the astral, and from there they could go around the people looking for them, by walking through through the shadow dimension into the realm of the eternal scream and then through another hell dimension." I count out on my fingers now.
"Well, then we finally are here, well, on this planet, and like a day later my mom had me." I finish.
"Was that all of it, nothing more happened?" Alice wonders.
"I mean, basically, yeah." I say, relieved that they look intrigued more than scared of me.
"So you are like full human and half-hellspawn, -chaosbeast, -astral... -astral" Tiffany started.
"Wraith, astral wraith" I fill in and then continue, "half-Astral wraith, - grim reaper, -time spectre, -eldritch entity, - shade, -bamshee, - another type of hellspawn... Oh, and almost forgot, I got bitten by a werelynx a while back but it turned out I was immune."
"You probably don't have any slots left to be half - lynx as well." Tiffany laughed and Alice joined in.
Hearing that laugh was balm to my very very mosaic soul.
"Yeah, probably." I laugh with them and they turn the discussion on to what subjects they are looking forward to most, Tiffany looking forward to spellwork and Alice to healing.
It's going to be a good year.
|
I sipped my hot cocoa to get a moment to think before answering. I thought I'd have a few days at least to prepare for this question, but no such luck!
"Well, my mom is human." I said, still looking down into the swirling brown depths of the sweet drink.
"Of course! A lot of kids here have a full human parent! But what about your dad, what cool thing is he?" asked the quarter-dragon.
"Ummm, he's... human."
The silence dragged on for a little too long.
"No way!" said the mermaid from her chair. "Your mom had to have been messing around with your house Brownie or something!"
"She didn't. She and dad prayed. A lot. And I arrived on her 88th birthday!" I smiled brightly, hoping that would be enough to jolt them out of their reaction.
"So you're... not a witch?" "Nope." "Or a sorcerer?" "Kind of impossible."
The silence returned for a little while. Then, our almost silent half-bookwyrm roommate piped up.
"So you've got to be a cleric or a paladin, then. And since you're at this school and not a convent, you must be..."
I took a deep breath. "Yep. Paladin-in-training! No dating or skipping class or smoking in the boy's room for me!"
And there it was! That look of pity that they all tried to hide. I hated it! But I'd learned how to spin my fate as best I could.
"Just think about this, the school will probably win the rugby title every year I'm here!"
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jj3tczj
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jj3m1f8
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[WP] His past? A mystery. His location? Unknown. But one thing is certain: Cotten Eye Joe is America's Most Wanted Criminal
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“A great king? My, how great you are. We are at war, and you still want to claim my mind as your own. Truly, a greedy glutton. How long do I have until you take control? Minutes? An hour?” Philip slumped onto the throne, holding the wound on his chest, trying to stop the bleeding as best he could. He was exhausted, doing his best to protect his kingdom from the war that the great king had started.
Philip waited for a response, growing more frustrated as silence filled the throne room. He had to be listening. After a minute of silence, he tapped the edge of the golden crown. No matter what he did, the crown refused to budge from his head, held in place by whatever magic was powering it.
“I know you’re listening. Are you that much of a coward?”
“What do you want?” The voice was booming. Just those words alone caused Philip’s head to ache, feeling a rush of static shoot through his mind.
“I want you to see what you’ve done. You caused all of this, oh mighty king. Our downfall rests on you.”
“What downfall? I’ve never lost a battle. If the Jalian empire wishes to wage war, we will slaughter them into submission.” The voice was so confident, so sure of itself. Philip could see why the great king had been so powerful in the past. Those words alone made him almost believe they had a chance. Although Philip knew the grim reality of the situation.
“You were lazy. We could have solved this peacefully if you took the threat seriously. You stole my father’s body and spent his life drinking yourself stupid. It must have been fun.”
“So, you spite me because I stole your father from you?”
“No, my father wasn’t a great man. You could have been an improvement, but you fell into the same traps he did. I knew something wasn’t right when my father took an interest in the great king. He never was interested in our history, not like I was. After he got the crown, he knew all our history, like he lived it. Quite suspicious, no?”
“I’m the great king. You dare say I fell for the same sins as your petty father? Are you calling me, of all people, a drunk?” Again, that shockwave rushed through Philip’s head. He wasn’t certain what was causing this pain. Perhaps it was the loss of blood, or maybe it was due to him slowly losing control of himself.
“You got too comfortable with the peaceful times. Your interest changed from preserving the kingdom to preserving yourself. You used to love our kingdom. You did whatever you could to protect it. Now, you won't even respond to declarations of war. Why? Because it would ruin that peace you crave. Now, what peace do we have?”
“SILENCE. I built this kingdom with my own bloody hands. I’m owed the title of great king and I’m owed my descendants’ lives. None of you can lead like I can. Agh.. What is that feeling?” That mighty voice wavered for a split second, feeling the heat of the wound.
“I got stabbed. It’s probably fatal, since I ordered anyone that could stitch our wounds to run. I did the only thing I could do for them. I told everyone to flee. There is no victory, there is no kingdom, there is only the cold afterlife. This feeling, it’s death. Not a temporary one, but a permanent one.”
“What? You would order them to flee? You would let our kingdom fall?”
“Our kingdom? The kingdom hasn’t belonged to anyone else for a thousand years. I won’t let my people die in a pointless war. We can’t win. You didn’t train our armies enough to prepare for this. War has progressed since the last time you cared about it.”
Philip could hear the sounds of soldiers marching outside the doors of the throne room. Their marching steps shaking the throne room. Philip gave a remorseful sigh, looking at the statue of his goddess. He wished there had been a way to save everyone, but this was how it had to end. At least his family was safe.
“I’ll find a new body. Someone will put on the crown again.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. I sent a letter to the enemy, telling them to melt the crown.”
“Like they would believe such a thing.”
“I provided him with a lot of evidence of my claim, enough that he would be foolish not to listen. The prince of Jalian isn’t a dumb man. If I had more time, I believe we would have gotten along. Unfortunately, your greed ruined a great partnership.”
“So, instead, you doom us all? You doom your kingdom? You coward.”
“I did my best to save the kingdom. The only people I doomed are us. My sacrifice might save the lives of our people. I hope our death proves to the prince that my words weren’t a lie. If he at least lets my people keep living in our city. I would be happy.”
“That’s cowards talk. I can save the kingdom. Just find me a person to steal.”
“Are you scared? Never expected you to be scared.” Prince Philip stood up, pressing his sword against the ground, trying to use it to help him walk.
“I’m not scared. I’m the great king. The great king can’t die.”
“We all die. I admit, it’s a scary feeling. I thought I wouldn’t even survive this long. An over eager soldier from their armies snuck into the throne room. I had to kill him just so I could speak with you. I wanted you to see this.”
Philip pushed towards the door of his throne room, struggling to reach it. With each step, his body felt slower, until he collapsed before the door, staring at the magnificent wooden carvings on it.
“My home was so beautiful. I’m sorry everyone. I hope you could flee.” Philip smiled.
As he started losing control of his body, he felt his hand reach up, trying to pull the crown off. The great king desperately trying to free himself. With what strength Philip had left, he pushed his other arm up, clamping his hand around his wrist, holding it in place. “You can’t escape. You must face those you let down.” As he lost control of his body, his mind was freed, sending his soul to the afterlife.
Philip left the great king with the wound, unable to pull himself to his feet. When the door pushed open, the soldiers marched into the throne room, finding the prince on the castle floor, barely conscious. Beyond the guards and door, the great king would see the black smoke rising past the castle windows. That black smoke clogging up the air, illustrating the fall of his kingdom.
“This can’t be happening. I was the great king. I’m the one that made this kingdom. The kingdom can’t fall.” The great king didn’t even acknowledge the guards, just staring at the smoke before a sword was driven through his back, ending the perpetual king.
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
|
Another day, another ruler. Well, actually, the same ruler. Me.
More like, another day, another body. Today, my grand-grand-grand-grand-daughter will be coronated. What a waste of great intellect, she has always been the curious one, like I was when I was in my own body. But that's why I chose her to be the queen, curious people are dangerous. Like me.
As I watch the aristocrats arrive, the main door opens, revealing Claudia in the God-knows-how-many-years-old purple robes. The first time I saw it was when my mother was coronated and I was 15, even at that time, it was considered ancient and that was more than a thousand years ago, so you get the idea. Oh and it was enchanted by the First Witch herself, if the books are to be believed. Yeah, we used to have witches, and people didn't hate them, until I made them hate them, and banned witchcraft just to be sure. The robes are supposed to give the ruler great health and prosperity, and to protect them from evils. Well, I have possessed multiple rulers who wore the same robes to their coronation, so at least the last part isn't true.
Anyways, there is no way to check the robes' authenticity, because there aren't any witches anymore. I had the last one executed, but not before she helped me in sticking my soul to this crown. Elaine. To be honest, I didn't really want to execute her. I may have only pretended to love her, but I respected her. But it was for the greater good, can't risk exposing of the possessed crown. A small price to pay for eternal prosperity of our kingdom. I knew from start that there can't be a better ruler than me, and I was right, since I have ruled, we haven't lost any wars, our kingdom has only expanded.
Claudia walks to me, head held high, politely smiling at the aristocrats and the subjects alike. "Father", she says getting on knees, "it's an honour." I nod slightly, not wanting to converse with someone who soon will have their mind and memories washed blank.
I hand her the royal staff, and notice a new vine bracelet around her wrist. Ahh, must have been something from her forest visits, let her have her fun while she can. The coronation begins.
"Do you, Claudia of Alleforndna, swear in the name of God that you will protect the land and people of Alleforndna with your life?"
"I will."
"And treat everyone according to law, without any personal bias?"
"I will."
"And always keep yourself aligned to God and away from evil practices?"
"I will."
She raises her bowed head and looks into my eyes. Yeah, now's the tricky part, collecting all your soul back into the crown from this body, leaving a copy of your memory into the soul that slept through all these years, except the parts that it shouldn't know. Getting into a new body is much easier. But hundreds of time I have done this before isn't for nothing. You can even say I'm a professional. Well, because I doubt anyone's ever done it even once.
As soon as I enter Claudia's body, I observe the place isn't "empty", like it should be the moment I entered. But that's not possible, I just put her soul to sleep.
"Mon amour", said an elegant voice I knew too well to forget, in my head, if it's possible for a soul to have a head.
I shuddered, it's not possible.
"Elaine. How - ?"
"'How's' not important, my dear. You should ask, "what now?".
"Why are you here? How are you here? I thought you - "
"Oh Sirella, I kinda forgot how my curious cat is. Okay I'll tell you. You remember I said that this soul-sticking-to-crown could tear your soul apart?"
"Yes. But-"
"How could I risk your soul, so I first experimented with mine," she said and a picture of the vine bracelet appeared in my head. Witches. Telepathy. "And this sweet girl happened to walk where I threw it, found it and wore it."
"How come she wasn't - "
"Not every free soul consider themselves superior, dear. I and the girl coexisted and she didn't mind. In fact, she liked having me. Until you put her to sleep. I thought you only wanted to "advice" the future rulers, not take away their free will. Anyways, I didn't expect much from you after you executed me for "crimes against the crown". And now my sweet, you will pay for everything."
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mijz7xa
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mhxglgu
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[WP] There is a dungeon deemed "coughing baby easy", used by everyone to train rookies, test spells, and as a hangout spot for ordinary children. A roaming frenzied super monster from the MOST dangerous region just took one look at it, froze, became scarily aware of where it was, then fled.
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The discovery of a dungeon near by the town was only overshadowed by the fact that it was in their old cemetery. It held undead skeletons, goblins, mimic and the like, however the biggest attraction of this dungeon was how…friendly it was. The first encounter ever was against a skeleton and a few goblins. The battle was…interesting for the enemies would simingly hold their attacks whenever they were attacking and intentionally missing easy strikes, even overly exaggerating their defeat. The battle hardened adventurers could barely contain themselves as goblins did a memorable service to a very much alive skeleton holding a flower. In the coming weeks, the dungeon guild proclaimed the first ever difficulty of 0.5. Parents would drop of their kids at the dungeon and it would take care of them. Children would go on small quests to find some herbs in the caverns, capture slimes in bottles for gold or battle a skeleton named “the Sweet toothed boneman” guarding some sweets. Most of the monsters inhabiting this dungeon would ragged, small ot clumsy. Skeletons with hide armor, slimes the size of house cats (and hair as friendly) and spiders slightly larger than average. Higher ranking adventurers would be given quests to find objects to trade with the dungeon, sometimes the dungeon would ask for a book about baking or rusty forgotten weapons. Its rewards for those quests would be either minor enchanted items or well used/useful items. A blanket with a minor enchantment of a sleep spell to help people go to sleep or a scabbard that would sharp the sword when pulled out. A lucky barbarian got Bag of Sandwiches, which would generate a delicious random sandwich in the users hand if they open the bag.
As the dungeon’s popularity grew, so did the interactions with humans. The dungeon would mold abandoned areas and rooms for the occasional wandering merchants to place their stuff to sell. It became a common sight for adventurers and monsters interacting with each other, many goblins would give directions to areas that have large areas of loot or gave vague but helpful warnings about traps. It soon gained the name “Homely haven” for the the fact despite being so large and full of monster, it never ordered a single one to actively harm a life, in fact It ordered the slimes to keep the nearby graves clean and used much of its own gold to pay for damages it couldn’t fix.
Then paladin order arrived, they believed that because this dungeon had appeared in a cemetery then it must be like other dungeons, pure evil. So they gave the order to cleanse this town of all those who have been tainted by this dungeon. However before the leader of his paladins could raise his sword to give the order, the aura of the dungeon changed. The once warm feeling of a comfortable fire that was homely haven shifted to the cold edge of an execution block. Then the sound of something abnormal was heard. It sounded large, heavy and metallic, almost like the sound of an old dwarfs forge awakening after centuries of being abandoned. A gray Draugr larger than average covered with rusty heavy metal armor walked out of the dungeons entrance. Its body that could be seen was muscular with glowing veins, Its eyes were a glowing crimson rather than the jasper yellow, and on its back was great executioners axe that looked to be covered with old blood that never was truly cleaned. The paladins knew of this dungeons rank as something barely over Level 0, however each Holy man could tell this…monster…was beyound even the highest ranking of level 100. The paladins dropped there weapons, the clerics fumbled with their tombs and a few weaker willed individuals soiled themselves. The formation broke easily enough when the Draugr roared at them, and they ran away as fast as they could. As the hoard of holy men left the cemetery and town, the large draugr spoke four words that felt as old as the stone…
**Dont Come Back**
The large Draugr stood infront of the gate to the cemetery for a bit before going back towards the dungeon’s entrance tunnel, and soon the old feeling Homely Haven was back but people were still scared of dungeons strongest boss for it barely moved, even as people walked around it. Despite being stronger than highest ranked adventurers, the aura the boss expelled wasn’t pride or power…but weariness. However a little girl made her way to the dungeons entrance and found a new quest, nearby the large draugr.
_Help Mr Bones, The Forgotten back to his room, he’s gone a bit senile._
_Rewards: some gold and item of your choice_
The little girl stood on her toes to grab the skeletons finger and guided it back into the dungeon, its jasper eyes leading the way. The girl could somehow tell that Homely Haven really didn’t want to awaken Mr Bones. It took a while for the girl to find Mr Bones’s room, for it was hidden behind the stairs going down into the dungeons lower levels. The room looked to be an old office room with a large chair, a few dusty book shelves and fireplace that’s been dead for a long while. As the girl led Mr Bones inside, the huge Draugr placed its axe above the fire place and sat on the large chair. The girl grabbed an old curtain from nearby and wrapped around the skeleton, and the girl swore despite the corpse not having any working organs she heard the faint sounds of snoring. When she left the room, a goblin was waiting outside with hefty pouch of gold coins and a few stronger than average magical items, however it was shocked when the girl only took the pouch and said “for my other reward, I would like permission to interact Mr Bones, he seems lonely”. The goblin bowed its head and ran off into the dungeon as the little girl walked up the stairs.
Soon things went back to normal, with the exception that occasionally the paladins would deliver apology gifts to the town and dungeon after words of their attempted purging hit the higher ups
The dungeon didn’t mind, for it was still loved by all and it wouldn’t be feared…it never liked that
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Jack's one eye narrowed at the assembled scholars. The ace adventurer, head of the Bloody Glory Guild, victor of a hundred desperate battles to maintain the defense around the Rip In Time, was apoplectic.
"We lost six Elite Raiders putting that 'Ancient Eldritch Soulsuck Horror' into that cage for you. And you just want to leave that THING in Baby's First Dungeon?" he spat. "You're out of your mind. There's an ICE CREAM SHOP at the entrance! It's a five minute walk from downtown Dale! When that thing gets out, there will be a slaughter the likes we haven't seen since the Rip opened up!"
Kim (PHD of Dungeonology) nodded grimly "Look, there's nothing special about the Glenwood. It's a Level 0 Dungeon, home only to Puddle Slimes, Palrats, and Flutterbyes. Zero fatalities across 600 years. And yet, it struck mindless bloody terror into a creature crafted from the most depraved psychic nightmares of the universe. We need to know why. We need to observe the creature while it's in there. We have the governor's permission."
Kim was never one to plead, but there was genuine desperation in her eyes as she looked up at Jack. "One week. We need your Elites to keep that thing in there for one week. We'll pay triple."
\-
Moving the horror into the central clearing nearly cost another four men their lives, as it trashed desperately against the spectral bars of the cage. The first day was the worst, needing a full team of mages to maintain additional wards to contain the living nightmare that fought even more desperately than any adventurer it had devoured.
By the third day, it lay quivering at the bottom of the cage, its thousand tentacled eyes darting around so quickly they were a blur, with the irregular thudding of its exterior heart sounding like the world's most unskilled drummer. The scholars and Elites withdrew, to see if something would happen if their prey was left alone. Some unseen predator, some act of the gods, anything.
On the seventh day, Kim announced a breakthrough.
\-
Jack stared at the interior of the cage. "You're kidding. THAT'S the same Horror that flayed the flesh off some of my best Raiders ?"
A 6 inch Octopi with adorable eyes floated mindlessly around the cage.
Gritting his teeth, Jack stepped inside and hefted his Mythicite Shield. The little critter locked eyes with him, danced left and right, then tackled. It bounced off harmlessly, and tried again. And again.
"Jack, you've been to every dungeon on the continent. Does this put you in mind of anything?" Kim asked.
Jack scrunched up his one good eye, thinking hard. Then his eye flew open in realization, remembering an ill-fated expedition to Lethe's Library of Lost Souls. "Oh. OH!"
They spoke as one "A Level-Down Field!"
"But this one doesn't affect mortals. Only monsters." Kim said.
Jack sat down on the floor of the cage, barely noticing what once was the most deadly creature known to man, as it ineffectually bounced off his head. His mind was racing with possibilities. "If the magic for it exists, then we can try to recreate it."
A deranged smile, seen only on the most mad mages cracked Kim's face. "Exactly. If we could maintain a Monster-Only-Level-Down-Field around the Rip In Time... We can nip the threat of these primordial nightmares in the bud the moment they breach through-" "AND still maintain access to the high-value resources on the other side" Jack finished.
Fifteen years of hard, bitter decisions slid off his face. Maybe, he thought, he really would get to retire. Maybe the decades of holding that desperate line of defense were finally coming to a close.
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loiy9co
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loiordm
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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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When people decide to become superheros, they usually end up in one of 2 categories: holier than thou over the top doo-gooder or the broody avenger, protecting the innocent that will never know.
Both are bullshit.
Sure, they start out ok, but within a year they stop seeing the little guy and only look at the big picture or big dollar items.
Stopping an alien invasion? Sure, go ahead, i'm rooting for ya big man.
Apprehending the art thief stealing the 500.000 dollar painting, when said painting was bought from a street artist a month ago for 15 bucks? The only creme there is the art world... and probably insurence fraud, now that I think about it.
All the while ignoring the waitress getting robbed around the corner, the kid falling from the fire escape whil drink dad sleeps on the couch and a million other little everyday things.
And honestly, i'm not that much better myself, though i try focusing on the "medium" crimes as I like to call them.
"Fight with DR. Dentist reveals secret meth lab"
"Faild heist reveals massive chemical dump, The Dentist still at large"
Sure, I annoy the stuffing out of some... ok most of the lokal heros, but what's 100k in property damage to save the cities water supply from carcinogens being dumped into it? Helping clean up the neighbourhood? The only thing i've done that caused real damage and inconvinience to others than the heros, politicians and a few corrupt beaurocrats was blowing up a nursing home that had more mold than blue cheese.
Sure they label me a criminal, insane and stuck me with that "DR tooth decay" title, but that just means i can make a them look even more rediculous, keeping them humble.
This time though, things have changed.
Alpha-man had moved to the city and started doing stuff to prove "he's the Alpha!!"
First, he broke Dovemans arms, then paralized gorilla girl, a fellow criminal, from the neck down.
Now though, he's killed Sir Sun and Lady Moon, and is going for Shooting Star... my Niece.
As I walk towards the fighting, I try to feel.. something, but it's like my emotions have fled from the void that right now personifies my power
As I walk towards the fight, Shooting Star is hit in the face, flying a good 42 feet and landing in a herp in front of me.
I sidestep her and continue walking towards Alpha-man.
"Do..doctor dentist?" Star coughs, her face swolen, bleeding from several missing teeth and a torn eyebrow.
I turn my head and lower my surgical mask, smile at her. "It's going to be okay honey" I tell her.
"Unc-coughcough-uncle Dan!?! You have to run! He's -cough- too strong..." Star says before slowly fading. She probably has internal injuries, I need to do this quick.
I turn back to Alpha-man, who is right in front of me now, spewing some bs about a No powers e-list villan not being able to stop the uber god that he is.
I start laughing a shrill, almost hysterical laugh, that would back up all the articles calling me insane. At least it stoppede his monolog.
"Listen up, you roided up 5 year old on a temper tantrum, every last so called hero on this planet has tried catching me at some point, all failing because something breaks and i escape, you think I don't have any power?!? Just because you wouldn't know subtlety if it smacked you in the face with the ugly bat, Even more than your parents already did. But tonight the gloves comes off, just for you, don't you feel special?" I tell him with a happy smile. God, I probable am a bit insane right now.
As the hunk of muscle takes a swing at me, several Lord cracks can be heard and he steps back, screaming in pain. Just like my Niece did a few moments ago...
"Aww bone decay in someone so young, you should really watch what you put into yourself" I tell him in a mocking concerned tone.
He roars in rage and pulls out some kind of gun from his back, probab what he used to get past my sister-in-laws powers. It doesn't matter.
As he puls the trigger, it explodes, leaving a bloody stump where his hand should be.
"Not maintaining your equipment means the sensitive little things inside it decays faster" I tell him.
He just stares at me, his mind being overloaded by all the signals going to it to the point where the pain isn't registiring. That won't doo. A few decayed nerves and he's back to screaming.
"Normally i wouldn't do this, but you've made it personal. Tonight, you're going to decay as slowly and painfully as possible. So prepare as Entropy takes you"
Edited for spelling
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Enraged by the anvil, then the wasps, then the cake-in-the-face, a true classic, "The Beast" roared, focusing all the evil cosmic energy within his soul to a miniscule spot between his clawed hands. But I was ready.
As the death ray zipped towards me, I was already holding an ornate hand mirror in its path. In a world of logic the cosmic energy would destroy anything physical and even para-physical. The sturdiest magical barriers or even the xeno-technology of Arumnians would crumble against it, but I was the joker. Everyone who ever watched cartoons in their childhood knows that mirrors deflect rays.
The deflection passed through the Beast's elbow, a chunk of flesh simply disappeared, more started dissolving at the edges into thick black smoke as the foul chaos worked on his flesh at an alarming rate.
No no no, not yet. "It's a boo boo" I said, jettisoning towards the Beast. I slapped a huge band aid with a unicorn on the dissolving flesh, then just as a precaution I leaned forward and gave the wound a kiss. "I kissed it and made it better, but we have something to discuss, urgently."
"You encroached in my territory. My honor's sullied. I challenge you to a duel, sir!" I said. The beast's clothes suddenly turned into a suit of armor, so did mine. I calmly removed the heavy gauntlet appearing on my hand and slapped him. "We duel by guns" I declared. His clothes quickly turned into clothes of a cowboy, so did mine.
We stood, our backs pressing against each other, a gun in both our hands. Of course as we count and step, I stepped backwards keeping affixed to him. He struggled against the enchantment in vain, of course he had no control over his body.
As he turned, I slid behind him, then shot him at the base of his skull. He would heal it all right, but it should have hurt a little.
He made Electra, the hero, my friend, my playmate suffer for twenty minutes. I took out a huge pocket watch from my vest pocket and checked out the time. Maybe a couple more weeks. Maybe another century. Time stretched in a funny way around me, losing all meaning anyway.
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m7od09a
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m7nbjhy
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[WP] Write an angry ending monologue of someone in a small town who tried to warn the people something bad was going to happen, no one listened, and now people are dead.
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"Sodding wizards," Bug said. The hooded scout slapped him upside the head.
"Hush!" the kid whispered. Nodding at the wizard sitting by the fire.
"Nah, nah, I'm right, you know it," the drunken recruit declared, grinning and mugging. "Sodding wizards. Swanning around, fink they own the show. In those poxy dresses and stupid hats - " He raised his voice deliberately, aiming for offence.
It was at that point that the sergeant intervened. Leaning over and grabbing Bug's ear. The burly youth yelped.
"Wizards carry the staff and wear the dress and the old pointy hat," the sergeant said, as the wizard continued to poke a stick into the fire, pretending not to hear, "for *being seen.* All right?"
"What the fuck is that meant to mean, sarge?" Buzz protested, rubbing his ear as the sergeant let go.
"All right. Listen up. You asked a question, you're gonna get an answer. Listen up, everyone!" the sergeant said, his voice raising to a roar. Suddenly everyone was paying attention. "Once upon a time I was young and green and stupid like Bug here. Used to think, what pussies, eh? Weedy blokes in fucking dresses. Rich arses staring down their noses at us. With stupid hats."
The sergeant, mellow from drink, but not drunk like Bug was, leaned back. "I even asked my sarge why they wore such a stupid get-up. Old Burnley, he said to me, he said, "For protection," and walked off busy-like. I thought he meant some magic in the cloth. Way back then."
The older man's eyes took on a far off look. "One hard winter we marched on a fort, you'll have heard of it for sure. Meant to be easy to take. Left near undefended whilst the main forces marched west to defend Tremain." There was a murmur. Some knew. "Two hundred of the enemy. Two hundred. And three wizards. We was four battalions all told. And one wizard. Pointy hatted toff that he was."
"So we thought, us young bloods, it'd be an easy battle. The officers were tense, but they'd had their orders. They knew what it was about, though..! We formed up. And we came on at the fort. Me, aye, and my brother, and my cousin Denny from the village. Well. You all know Blackwater. It's a byname, isn't it so? A great defeat for us. It's in the history books now. So I guess you know what's coming."
Everyone was quiet. "We marched in. Facing the fort. 'Spread out, spread out!' yells the sarge, and then the fire starts raining down...."
The old sarge waved his hands. "Fire from the fucking sky! And we couldn't get apart far nor fast enough. They blew us to smithereens. Burnt bits, limbs flying everywhere! And naught you could do.... Not like a normal battle. No bravery, no wit, no might nor skill in arms, didn't help you how fast you could run, nothing could help you. You lived or died depending on whether those wizards looked your way or not, and that was all there was to it. The heat cooked us in our armour..! Smell of seared pork in the air, aye, only it wasn't pork... I looked down and I was burned, couldn't feel it then but I did, after. Everyone I knew, everyone who signed up from my own home for to be a soldier, my own brother, all in bloody burnt bits. And still the fire rained down on us."
He was quiet. Then, "And our wizard was stood shielding this little circle in the dirt. I bloody pegged it over there. All the men shoving and screaming to get in there. He kept on and on, though I could see him getting knackered. Then they teleported out to us. Bamph-bamph-bamph! *Five* bloody wizards, not two. To accept our surrender. Five wizards. Five took out near two thousand men."
The whole squad was silent; listening in on the tale. Even the wizard was quiet.
"A wizard wears a fucking stupid robe and a pointy hat and all the rest of the get up as a uniform. You know why? It says, see me! It says, be told. It says, this bastard is so fucking dangerous you better fall on your knees before you even dream to think you can tangle with him. A single bloody wizard can kill a hundred men on the battlefield easy. More than a cavalry charge, even of the King's hardest knights. If a wizard is in your colours you fight to the death to protect him, cause he's all the protection you got against other wizards. If he's in enemy colours, then you're dead. And if you ain't, the higher ups will have you if you somehow get the drop on him and kill him, he's more use to them than you, so you go get him and bring him for ransom."
The sergeant took a long, long swig of beer. "And it's for protection he's wearing that get up, just as Old Burnley said. But not for his. For yours. Be told, Bug. Be fucking told. Leave the wizard alone."
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Blast the mockery, and blast the jokes.
Fuck!
As a warrior I have mocked the wizards for their shoddy robes, and colorful wardrobe, and weird hats.
What the hell were all those drawings, and colors gonna do anyway?
Well.
Blast it all! Today I almost died to a newbie wizard and everything is so goddamn clear.
The colors of the robe?
Well they are elementally enchanted, and the color represents the element.
Green = wind, fire = red, you get it right?
So this dude's blue robe just conjured water orbs hitting me with pressurized blasts if I tried to attack him.
If that wasn't enough, dude's pointy hat lit up, and the symbols started casting spells on their own!
Fucker was playing the flute as I tried to survive his passive abilities!
And if that wasn't enough, the robe was also good at hiding things.
Orbs rolled out of his robe, which promptly transformed into puppets, golems, and creatures.
I think I fought for hours, before I actually managed to get to the wizard.
It got so much worse.
"Oh, a warrior that actually trained to this point.
How interesting..." this young wizard said, before his robe changing colors.
IT CAN CHANGE COLORS!
Fire waves, sharp wind blades, lightning strikes hit me, as the robe was switching colors like a chameleon.
All the while the symbols travelled from the hat to the robe, with varied spells being thrown at me.
A broken hand, completely charred body, and broken sword.
Before me lay his unmoving body, robe colorless, and the hat simply having disintegrated.
I get now why the wizards "rule" the world.
Holy crap are they full of trickery, and know a lot.
Like this fella had elemental, chaos, summoning, and alchemy magic being thrown at me like it was nothing.
And it was clear that he was a newbie.
For one, he was young, and another sign was that his hat was small...
Taking my proof of having killed him, as I was hired to do so...I left, but I promised myself to never listen to stereotypes, and to use the rewards for further training.
And maybe, I shall try learning some magic myself, as it's just too good, to be left unused.
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jahwh9a
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jahhmhm
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[WP] In a world dependant on superpowers, you though your ability of being immune to direct alterations from other powers was mildly inconvenient. You realize something is up when a friend points out you haven't aged at all in a decade.
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I leaned toward the mirror, inspecting my face under the harsh bathroom lights. Ever since Olivia had half-jokingly said that I wasn't aging, the thought kept niggling at me. My power wasn't immortality—it was immunity to others. If I was indeed not aging, the conclusion that followed seemed too ridiculous to pursue.
A clang from the living room made me frown; I lived alone and wasn't expecting guests. Stepping out of the bathroom, I killed the lights and walked warily toward the source of the noise.
Stepping through the doorway, I did a double-take. Before the ajar window stood a well-built, sharply dressed man with a handsome face everyone on the planet knew. My momentary panic was quickly replaced by giddy excitement.
"Holy shit," I exclaimed. "Universal Man? What are you doing here?"
He smiled, but it didn't reach his icy blue eyes. "Have a seat, Tom. We have a lot to talk about."
I hurried to the couch and sat down, not even questioning his ordering me around in my own home, or wondering how he knew my name. "Let me just say, it's an honor—"
He raised his palm as if to silence me, and a frown crossed his face. "So it's true."
"What is?" I asked, bemused.
"Your power—it blocks others. How... irritating." Shaking his head, he reached into his jacket. "Well, no matter. I read your friend's memories so I came prepared."
"My friend?"
He drew a gun, and I froze, more stunned than scared. Universal Man could crush concrete and lift cars without breaking a sweat. What would he want with a puny little pistol?
"What's going on?" I laughed nervously. "This is a joke, right?"
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry." The gun sat awkwardly in his hand as he leveled it at my chest. "I never encountered anyone like you before. I never would've even known, had I not picked up your friend's thoughts. You're far too dangerous to be left alive."
I swallowed. "Olivia? What did you do to her?"
"I merely ensured she wouldn't remember the past few days. Much easier to deal with than you."
"I don't understand," I said in a trembling voice. "How am I dangerous? My power's so minor they gave it the lowest classification—"
He laughed, a high, chilling sound. "The idiots. Tell me, why do you think I have all these abilities?"
"Y-you're special, everyone knows that. The pinnacle of human evolution..."
"A convenient excuse. One power per person; the rule hasn't changed for millennia." He glanced down at his other hand and clenched a fist. "Mine is to take from others. Their powers, even their lifespan. Take from everyone... except, it seems, you."
"The whole world is growing old because of *you*?" I exclaimed, half-rising from my seat. "That's absurd! People have been dying for ages—"
His face rippled, shifting to another man's, then a woman's, his body following suit. "How long—do you think—I have lived?" asked an ever-changing voice.
I laughed because the truth was too much to bear. Gunshots rang loudly in my ears, and my chest suddenly burned. I slumped back, my eyes bulging out as I found myself unable to draw breath. The monster's icy eyes, the only feature that wasn't changing on that shifting face, watched me with detached satisfaction.
|
That moment, a mirror shattered. The veil was pulled back, and light streamed through, giving utter clarity to the people of our world.
Somehow, aging was caused by a single person with a super power.
Chaos erupted, my brothers. Oh, my brothers, how the world was set on fire.
You see, brothers, we only had to kill one bloody man! How easy of a task that is, if you really put your mind to it.
“Stop!” Martha screamed, holding her hands in front of her face.
The metal pipe came crashing down first on her right wrist, which lay limply by her side. She wisely moved her left hand, taking the pipe on her left temple.
Several more blows rendered her mush.
Yet, people kept aging.
The man moved on throughout the hero academy in search of his next victim.
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kplgiy2
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kpl59zy
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[WP] You're a shy introverted wizard who's never hurt anyone but likes to have dark clouds and thunderstorms around the castle and is faced by a hero who's there to banish you because they think you're evil because of all the dark clouds around the castle
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Jimmy and Ian leaned forward as they sat on the couch, their eyes glaring thousand yard stares at the tv screen. It was the biggest football 🏈 game of the year, besides the Superbowl. This game would determine if their team made the playoffs or go home with another losing season. Five years of consecutive losing seasons, five years of being the laughing stock of the NFL. Five years of churning out head couches like a dirty pair of underwear. Their record was 9-9. 9 wins, 9 loses. If they win, they proceed to the playoffs with a winning season, but if they lose... Some people joked saying, "hey, be satisfied. It's a miracle they made it this far."
No, it wasn't enough, Jimmy grumbled to himself.
It was the final two minutes of the 4th quarter. Their team was down one point. All they needed was a field goal in order to win. All they needed was twenty yards to get close enough for the kicker to put it through the goal. Their team called a timeout. The commercials started.
"Oh thank God," Ian said. "I'm about to explode in my pants." He sprinted off to the bathroom, fumbling with his zipper.
"I hope you're talking about your bladder," Jimmy said.
"Not if we win this game." Ian said. He sighed as he relieved himself. It was like he was slowly pouring water out of a full bucket. The sound of something fragile smashing against the wall and furniture being destroyed, broke him from his reverie. An inhuman voice howled and hurled expletives.
Ian ran out of the bathroom, slipping and sliding on the polished wooden floor in his white crew socks. When he slid into the living room, he saw nacho cheese bits plastered on the wall. The table in front of the couch looked as if somebody karate chopped it in half. "Don't tell me they goofed it up. They were right there. How could they..."
Standing where his best friend once stood, was an 8ft tall hairy silver beast with the face of a snarling wolf. It wore their team's football jersey and sweatpants, albeit it was stretched all to hell with turfs of grey fur peeking from the tears in the fabric.
"They're idiots," Jimmy growled. "They're incompetent idiots. There are middle school girls who play the Madden video game that can call better plays than this."
"Jimmy? Is that you?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Ian's face was pale as if he seen a... "What? If you're worried about the mess, I'll clean it up. Why are you looking at me like that?"
Ian reached deep deep inside his pants and retrieved a silver machete with a salted blade.
Jimmy glanced at his meaty beast arms and torn jersey. "Oh."
"Yea..."
"I've was going to tell you... eventually."
"Oh yea right. Like when?"
Jimmy gave him a nervous smile. "Oh your deathbed."
"Cute." Ian sighed. Does Millie know?"
"Of course she knows."
"And she's still with you!?!"
Jimmy gave him an incredulous look. "She'd be pretty hypocritical if she left for that reason, considering she's a were-cat."
"Oh no. You guys are furries!!!!!!"
"What? No. We're lycanthropes."
"Oh, okay. So that's what the kids are calling it nowadays."
"Lycanthrope just means we're were creatures. Half man. Half animal. Animals can't be furries. That's like... I don't know. We're not furries, bro."
"Well, let me ask you this," lan narrowed his gaze. "When y'all are getting it on, are you in your human form or your animal form?"
"Why the hell does that even matter?"
"Ah ha!" Ian raised his silver machete. " I'm sorry bro, but I have too."
Ian charged at him, but before he could land an attack, Jimmy jabbed him in the eye with his giant furry fist. He stumbled back, holding his face and cursing. His eye turned black and swollen completely shut. Ian growled and leaped at him again. Jimmy jabbed him in his other eye, causing him to drop his weapon. The other eye blackened and swollen shut.
"You think something like this is going to stop me?" snarled Ian.
"Dude stop. I'm twice your height and over three times your size. Plus I got animal strength. You're just an angry guy with a sharp stick. This isn't going to end well."
He fished through his pockets for his phone and dialed a number. "Dean! Shammy!!! I need backup. I'll hold him until y'all get here."
Ian stared at him with swollen shut eyes and gritted teeth. "Dude, dont," Jimmy said. "Don't do it. Don't do it."
... Unfortunately, he did it. Dean and Sam never showed up, because Ian never called them. He accidentally called pizza hut. Rip.
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It was a fool moon and I didn't know. My friend was sleeping over that night. I've known he was a monster hunter for years. He still has no idea I'm a werewolf. Now i,m in my room starting to grow fur and get taller and more muscular. I panic as I hear him walk up the stairs. Before I can try to hide he opens the door. "Hey where's the- OH SHIT!" He yells Before running down stairs presumably for his weapons. Luckily i felt the transition begin and took them Before going to my room. I chase him down the stairs. At this point I've fully transformed. He looks for his weapons but can't find them. I just stare at him worried. He notices that he hasn't been ripped to shreds yet. "Wwill you stop tearing up my living room! They obviously aren't out here" I tell him. He looks confused. "Are you not fully transformed yet or something?" He asks me. "This is the full transformation. I don't lose my mind. Is that really so surprising?" I ask him a little annoyed. "But... isn't that what happens to werewolves?" He asks. "Not most of them. There are a lot more werewolves than you think. As a werewolf I can tell who is and isn't a werewolf." I tell him. "Alright. I guess I can trust that? I don't know. It just seems that most werewolves I see habe attacked me. The ones that didn't see me coming are the exception." He explains. He just thinks he knows everything doesn't he? "That's because you're a monster hunter. If a werewolf sees a person that has the intention of killing them, also, werewolves are able to transform at all times. Day Or night. We are just forced to during a full moon." I inform him. "Really? Wow. Now I'm starting to feel really bad. I've killed a few hundred probably innocent people." He tries to take it all in. He falls to his knees realizing the damage he's caused. He starts to break down crying. "Yeah ill leave you alone with that for now. I'm going to bed. See you in the morning," I say before awkwardly going back to my room and falling asleep.
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jnt42bk
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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.
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The representative from the Coalition of Human Controlled Planets (CoHCP) had, for the last three months, had been attending by proxy. Specifically a cardboard cutout of himself holding a sign which read "humans will do what must be done." At first it was thought to have been a publicity stunt, that Representative Marshall was quietly cultivating support for the species he represented.
Three days it was determined that this was incorrect. Representative Marshall had been vacationing on Tahit the entire time. The message that he was actually needed a the council meeting had to be delivered by speed boat. Despite being provided with a private warp capable ship, Marshall took over 61 hours to arrive at the council. It was noted by his colleagues that he "smelled of alcohol and cheap prostitutes."
Representative Marshall reportedly stated in reply that "they were NOT cheap." Before entering the council chamber proper, dressed in cut off jeans, a Hawaiian shirt worn open over an undershirt, dark sunglasses and a straw hat. After being briefed, he was escorted to the podium to address the full council. Some representatives claim his speech was slightly slurred, and he was seen swaying slightly. His address is quoted verbatim below.
"For ten years the members of the Galactic Committe have been under attack from foreign powers. Specifically the Xihasi Collective and their associated species. Nine years and ten months ago, I made a proposition that the Chopic [CoHCP] Navy could be deployed to end the incursion. Nine years ago the Immirii lost three worlds to the invaders, and have seen their once proud race reduced to ashes and slaves. Eight years ago it was the Torhas. Then the Sniquillib.
"During these dark days, the Committee not only did not sanction the deployment of the Chopic navy, but preemptively ordered that the Chopic navy could not be deployed. Four years ago, the invaders reached Polli. For the first time, the Xihasi were defeated. Not merely beaten, but crushed. The Committee proceeded to formally censure the Chopic for the tactics employed. Tactics that won the day. Tactics that have ensured that no other planets under the protection of Chopic have seen more than a reconnaissance probe.
"And now, after ten years of warfare, death, and defeat the council turns to the Coalition of Human Controlled Planets for assistance. In your time of need, on behalf of the human race, I have one thing to say.
"It's about damn time. As we speak Chopic ships are dropping out of warp in orbit around all 19 planets that are currently seeing active conflict. In the next six to twelve hours, Chopic ships will arrive at planets claimed by the Xihasi collective. We expect to cripple the invaders within thirty hours and expect total surrender within 50. The terms of surrender Chopic is offering have been relayed to each of you, and I expect near unanimous approval of these terms. Thank you."
Representative Marshall began to leave the podium before being called back for questions. Representative Tiiiii asked if Marshall had considered the possibility of censure for taking action prior to council approval, to which he stated Representative Tiiiii could "take his censure and shove it up his ass." He then apologized, saying "I know you don't have an ass, so you can shove it wherever your people shove things."
Marshall met most other questions with similar irreverence and hostility, except for the question from Representative Rabinti, who asked how his time was oh Tahit. It is noted that Representative Rabinti has been an outspoken proponent of the CoHCP and their tactics.
Representative Marshall remained on site at the council until the Xihasi Collective surrendered and all hostility had ceased. Representative Marshall has since returned to Tahit and is not expected to return until the next formal council session begins in two months.
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"I am forced to admit that in this state of affair, i can only say one thing. We have failed." The third seat of the galactic council, King Reguli of the Kel'er, stated uncharacteristically. "Took you long enough. Dumbasses."
Some of the most auditory-gifted species reacted to the whisper from the supreme commander of humanity, but their pride was too shattered to rebuke it. After all, he had warned them, on the dawn of this war. "It is not because you adhere to a set of rules that the opponent will do so too out of respect. Especially if said war is being waged against what is essentially overgrown insects. Your obsession with wars waged in melee combat will doom us, whether it is during this war or our next one."
He was right. And the galatic council had lost a fifth of its territory to the bugs.
"Ladies, Gentlemens, slimes and rockmens, the five-hundred-seventy-fifth seat of the galactic council, Humanity, thus engages protocol "Chivalry is dead". Sheathe your laser blades, retract your obsidian claws, put your ornamental swords back on your fireplace. Humanity is on sortie tonight, and by tomorrow, there will be only radiation and lead on the infested planets. I trust that in the future, you will heed our advice when it comes to warmongering. We happen to have experience in the domain. I trust i speak for the first seat when i announce this meeting ajourned."
No species dared object, hoping that the dog that had just ripped out its leash wouldn't bite them once blood had been tasted.
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j9ta556
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j9s2uhw
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[WP] You’re a villain who’s kidnapped one of the smartest guys on your nemesis’ team. They tell you no one’s coming for them because the hero doesn’t care. You thought they were bluffing, but it’s been a month & no one has shown up. After hearing them cry at night once again, you finally had enough.
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I unlock the celldoor.
"You're right. Nobody's coming. You are free to go."
I see two moist red eyes look up at me in confusion.
I've see this again and again. History repeats.
"Listen, I may be the infamous villain..." I wave my arms for dramatic effect "...but I have standards."
"I was used to playing the game, you know, cops and robbers, just at a different scale. I'd hit the bank, you guys show up to save the day. I take just a bit of the 1%'s assets to build my plans and make my escape. I'm 90% sure you've noticed. Thanks by the way for not pointing it out to your allies.
But this will not do. I may be a *nefarious* villain but I am loyal to my henchmen. I take care of them. Much unlike like how your people have left you here to rot."
His eyes drop to the floor.
"As I said, you're free to go. I have no interest in being someone's jailor. Sure, I kidnap you, but that's just a means to an economic end. If you're willing to stick around for a couple minutes longer I have a proposition for you to consider. "
I motion for him to leave his chambers and follow me into my study.
He stands up, hesitation visible in his posture.
I move towards my favourite chair and brew two cups of tea.
As the vapour wafts away from the surface of the tea he takes a seat across me. Eyes still red and raw, but something new has entered them. Good. He'll need that.
"I gather you know all about me, my history and my methods. If you were to take me up on my offer, I'll have you know that I don't take kindly to cold blooded murder. I'm not a general with soldiers, I'm no overfunded policecaptain. I'm a businessman. I find murder prevents further business to take place. Accidents may happen and I mourn them. I take my accountability and see that any dependents are well cared for. I expect you to work within this framework. Warnings are given exactly once, termination follows at repeated offences. "
A slight nod follows.
"Good. Your dependents will.be moved into my secure facilities for families of my henchmen. This, too, is non-negotiable. You will find they have wants for nothing. "
Another nod.
"Excellent. Now finally, I usually offer a sort of wish to prospective employees. Naturally not like a Jinn, but more like a favour. Usually I leave it up to prospective employees to think it up, but for you I may have a suggestion--"
His mouth opens and cuts off my next words.
"Indeed. I want revenge. While you did kidnap me, I had no wants or needs that weren't met save for contact with my family. Yet they have made no effort to retrieve me. I asked your henchmen for news from outside. I was met with kindness and told no contact was made on their part. I heard about your efforts for them and to negotiate for myself. I heard they laughed you out of the room. "
"I orchestrated their rise as heroes, and now they have owed me their fall. They will fall like falling stars."
"I accept your proposal, I abide by your terms. I will cash in that favour and hand in an itemised list later. "
He takes his cup, now at a drinkable temperature and sips.
I slide over the paperwork with a pen. My name already signed.
"Welcome aboard."
He signs.
Two names written in crimson. Michaël. Samaël.
History repeats, but not always exactly the same. Sometimes things do change.
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They won't come, he said. I didn't believe him then.
I locked him behind layers and layers of traps that he would have easily seen through, but most of his team mates have consistently fallen for. I fed him routinely - not enough to make him more effective, but enough to keep him from dying. That was a month ago.
​
Their priorities are elsewhere, he said. None of the traps had triggered, none of the alarms gone off.
He chattered then, about everything except his team and his own abilities. I hid some of the traps better, made him walk around to present a tempting piece of bait. I wondered if he knows that he cries in his sleep. That was a fortnight ago.
​
They've long left and are far away, he said. The children are more important, he said. I don't need rescuing, he said. Then he looked at me with those flame gold eyes and asked if I wanted to surrender or run. That was yesterday.
I'm afraid he's going to catch up soon.
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l5fowft
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[WP]Your sibling, your parents' least favorite child, died prematurely. They hardly noticed. They certainly didn't shed a tear. Now, during the funeral, they forgot your siblings name - again. It's your turn to 'say a few words', so you do.
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--This is my life, except my sister (my parents' favorite) died, and not me. So, I'll trade places with her for this story.--
"Hello everyone... I would like to talk about... Sorry. This is such a gut-punch. I would like to talk about what my brother meant to me."
Jenni sobbed and struggled to regain her composure.
"He um... he was more than a brother. In the final few years, before he went to college, he was my guardian, my parent. He was also my best friend."
She paused, wondering if it was wise to continue speaking about her true feelings. This would certainly upset her parents. Maybe it would make them finally cry, even if it was only because they were ashamed and embarrassed. But then Jenni felt the sudden urge to press forward and fight for her brother's memory. A wave of anger was overcoming her deep sorrow.
"Look, I know this is a church. Moreover, this is my father's church, where he preaches to you every Sunday... but my brother... he didn't believe in God."
Aside from a couple of audible gasps, the silence was deafening. Jenni stumbled over her next few words, shocked by her own previous utterance. It felt so alien, yet so liberating, to say the truth out loud.
"My--yes, he--my brother, he... The word is 'atheist.' He was an atheist. He read the Bible from cover to cover. I guess he believed that our father would learn to love him if he he could show his devotion to God. He didn't challenge Dad when he was voluntold to participate in church functions. I guess he just gave up."
Jenni could feel the daggers coming from her father's stare as he sat in the front row. But she continued, unabated.
"I said... he read the Bible from cover to cover. He didn't believe in a heaven or a hell. He certainly didn't want a funeral in a church, let alone this church. This isn't what he wanted, and he told you that, Dad!"
She looked back at her father and fixated upon his gaze. It started to turn from furious into something more like concern or fear.
"My brother basically raised me in those few years before he began a life of his own; a life free of tyranny. I have no idea why I was treated differently. I don't know what happened between you two, but you didn't have to disrespect his wishes like this. He was a good boy! And then a good man. He deserved better."
Her rage began mixing with crushing sadness with a fury she had never felt before.
"I just want everyone to know that he was the best possible person. He would have sacrificed everything for me. He probably would have done that for anyone here... or anyone out there."
Jenni gestured towards the wall, beyond which was a relatively busy street.
"Please, I beg of all of you, don't pray for his soul. It's not what he wanted. Instead, he would merely like to be remembered as that nerdy kid with a kind heart that truly wanted to know how you were feeling... and how he could help make you feel better. I'm not saying that you should believe what he believes..."
She corrected herself, "believed." Jenni was feeling exhausted. Not knowing how much longer she could continue, she decided to wrap things up.
"My brother gave me the passion to pursue science. He helped me get into Big Technical University. And then he taught me to follow my own passion. I don't know whether I still believe in God, but I can tell you that I now believe in myself. I am now free to question things that I wasn't allowed to question before. Neither of us were allowed to. And he gave me that confidence."
After another long pause, Jenni caught her breath. She needed the time to think of what to say in closing. She wanted to drop a hammer on her father.
"Remember my brother. Say his name, often: 'Charles, Charlie, Chuck.' He liked 'Charlie' the most. He will live on in all of our hearts so long as we remember him. That would be his heaven, his eternal life, his salvation. Whatever you do, you must... not... forget... him... or else I will never forgive you."
The End.
PS, I changed some other details.
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What can be said about Terry other than he will be missed?
Tyler was not the best sister in the world but she was always there, in the background.
Taylor wouldn't make a scene or stand out, you would often forget they were there.
Based on the turn out Baylor didn't have many friends or loved ones, I had to remind our parents that her funeral was today.
They still didn't want to come, there was an episode of Friends that they kinda liked was going to rerun but I didn't want to be the only Family member here to remember Blair.
He was not the best son, never did much for the family, would constantly take over the TV so he could watch his shows new episodes every month, even making me share my Netflix profile by adding "and Ferris" after my name. Always a pain to explain to my friends. Actually let me just correct then real quick.
...
Where was I? Oh right Francis is dead and they never did much for me, barely paying for my video games, only driving me around a few times a week. She would always prioritize herself so she could "Go to dialysis"
Their selfishness aside I let them go if they lent me their car and I let them off at the bus stop. Felix would complain "but the bus won't come for an hour and the clinic is only a ten minute drive. Their constant "me me me" was tiring, if they wanted to get their sooner their wheelchair was right there and the hill wasn't that steep.
Her negative qualities aside, she was still a part of my life. This one is for you, I hope your selfishness wasn't so bad that you end up in hell, Limbo is an adequate place for you. Good luck Frank, you are gonna need it.
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jk581n7
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[WP] One genie specialises in a specific kind of ironic wishes. If the wish is for fitness and health, the genie is a drill sergeant from hell and whips them into shape. If they wish for money, the genie makes them go through years of economic schooling.
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"Just another mile" my guide encouraged, dressed far more prepared than I. No, I was freezing, the cold mountain air biting at my neck. So fast I had forgotten what the sun felt like and so desperately I wished for it again.
"Why..." I huffed. "Why are we on a mountain! This wasn't my wish!" The guide-disguised genie turned to face me, and though his eyes shrouded by goggles his expression of content was clear.
"No, you wished for perspective and guidance."
"Perspective" The genie pointed towards the mountain peak, seeming now so far above us. "And guidance" he gestured to himself.
Before today I had only heard the stories of Genies; of how they twist words at their will and alter wishes for their own fun. But never did I think them to be true, bedtime stories for kids and the naive. Well, today I had become the naive.
Every step up the mountain my feet sunk further into the snow, brought my knees closer to the ground as I trudged through with labored breaths. Meanwhile, ahead the genie walked as if on a Sunday stroll. The snow did not stick to his back. The cold did not redden his face as it did my own. He did not even breathe the same air as I.
"Here it is!" The guide before me yelled back as we approached the top.
And as I looked up it seemed suddenly so attainable, as if the rest of the miles of climbing never occured. My legs felt solid beneath me once more, my eyes did not sting with the winter air, and I had made it. Made it to a goal I had never even asked for.
As the wind died we sat together. Him gesturing at a space in the snow near him, and for a moment convincing me that he was anything but what he truly was. In this momrnt he was only a guide with an ear to listen.
"So, was this worth it?" The genie spoke, gesturing with a gloved hand to the landscape below.
"It would be hard to say no."
"So don't" he grinned.
"Yes, I mean yes, of course it was." I breathed in a clean breath of winter air and continued."Thank you for the guide, the perspective too I suppose."
And we were left in silence once again. Only the sound of the wind on the mountaintop spoke, blowing in steady breezes and bringing a chill with it.
I understood now, what perspective meant. Not someone telling me what I wanted to hear, not a voice guiding me towards some purpose, but me, figuring it out for myself. I just needed the quiet. Just needed the guidance.
It remained silent, until finally the genie broke the peace.
"So then what is your next wish, friend?"
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"... so who's that guy supposed to be?" Graksin asked his new shiftmate. His keen eyes had caught sight of a fiery figure far above them. He'd never been in a position to see so high up before.
"Him?" Niskrag said incredulously. "That's Ignatius. He's the genie. Duh."
"*'The'* genie? What's that supposed to mean?"
Niskrag sighed. "Obviously he's not literally the only genie. He's our genie. Well, we're his, I guess you could say. He's sort of the boss."
Graksin scratched his foreplate with a pristine talon. He'd been made to clean himself thoroughly before he'd been allowed onto Level 84. It had offended him mightily, and he was too proud to admit that he looked, smelled, and felt better.
"Huh," he said simply. "A genie, though. Okay then." Everybody knew about genies. Even Graskin, forever insistent that he knew everything, really and truly knew about them.
Niskrag resolved not to share any more gossip, but that resolve crumbled three hours into the eight-hour shift. "You know what we're building, right?" he asked Graksin.
"Of course," Graksin replied.
"Liar," Niskrag retorted triumphantly. "Nobody knows what we're building. Not even the wisher knows, I don't think."
"But you don't *know* he doesn't know," Graksin countered.
"True," Niskrag admitted, "but you have to admit, that's the most poetic possibility."
"I don't have to admit a goddamn thing."
"Of course you don't, because you don't know anything. Only people who know things have to admit other things. They also have to have some shred of loyalty to either art or science."
"So you're admitting I'm right. Again. And you've been on Level 84 how long? Something tells me you're not getting any more promotions."
Ordinarily, a spat between Ras Kings would have devolved into a scratching frenzy, or even a puncturing contest. Rarely, one or more of them would have ended up pregnant. Not so inside of the Grand Machine. The pay was too good, and the consequences for damaging the Grand Machine were too steep. They'd signed contracts. They'd signed very, very thick contracts.
As such, they just kept working. There, on Level 84, they sliced metal. They all found it quite fun, and they were very good at it. Niskrag had marveled at the assembly line for a day or two when he'd started. Graskin, on his very first day, didn't seem impressed at all. Niskrag chalked that up to what he firmly suspected was aggressively stubborn ignorance, to complement both aggression and stubbornness.
Silence reigned until and throughout lunch. With full thoraxes, tempers cooled. Graksin finally managed to ask a question that wasn't halfway to an insult.
"Best guess?"
"Starship," Niskrag said. "Like a boat, you know, but one that can zip around up there, super fast-like, and take pathetic fleshy things to whole new planets, where they can start fresh and muck everything up all proper-like."
"Hmmm," Graskin replied. "So, not a weapon?"
"Everything's a weapon," Niskrag answered dismissively. "You know that. Probably stocked full of weapon-weapons, too, or will be."
Graksin sighed. The air pushed through clickers, clackers, and raspers. Even Ras Kings knew their own sighs were unpleasant. They also liked that they were. "I hope it's a proper doomsday device," he said. "That would be... what was the word again? 'Ironic?'"
"'Ironic,'" Niskrag affirmed. "What a word that is. So delightful. I don't think so, though."
"Because we'd help build one of those for free," Graskin said.
"Right. Exactly."
"I hope I get to chat with Ignatius someday," Niskrag said. "I think he'd be just perfectly wicked."
"I hope I get to meet the wisher," Graskin said. "I'd try to kill him. Gotta know. Gotta know what the genie would do about it, if anything."
"Yeah," Niskrag agreed. "Gotta wonder about that. How ironic is too ironic? The fleshy thing getting killed right before this thing is done would be very ironic. Right?"
"Right," Graskin said. He didn't actually know.
They sliced more metal. They occasionally wiped their maws on their special-issue work suits, which neutralized and absorbed their acid. They finished for the day, and got paid in bone, leather, cooked flesh, and even some scraps of plasteel. The latter were prized above all else. Plasteel could be used to make weapons and armor that couldn't be melted by Ras King acid.
Somewhere, high above, Ignatius stood ever vigilant. He was free from his prison cell for as long as it took to fulfill a wisher's wish, and the wisher he then served had wished a mighty wish indeed. Unfortunately for Ignatius, the meta laws of wishing brooked no delays. He had therefore traded one prison for another: a mostly-empty void dimension for a centuries-long career in management - unpaid, no rest, no leisure, and no wiggle room to be lazy or corrupt.
How ironic.
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jyuwuor
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jytvfiv
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[WP] You always got strange looks whenever you fed the neighborhood ravens. "I give them food, they give me company," you'd say. One day, a raven excitedly comes up to you and whispers, "A neighbor plots against you, my lord."
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I live in a big city, a big neighborhood with a small park in the middle. I live alone, despite my mom's attempts to find me a girlfriend. I've always been a lonely person-- with only one exception. Our neighborhood crows. They're not alone, they usually come in groups, sometimes they're seven, sometimes just three of them. Regardless, no matter the amount they come in, I always make sure to give them a snack before I go to work. I sit on the bench while they gather at my feet, excited to have their daily snack.
This morning was no different, I walked to my kitchen to grab the small bag I had assigned to store my little friend's food, the floor creaking underneath my steps, once I had a respectable amount, I made my way to the park. Since it was still early morning, the sky shined in a light blue filled with clouds, and the street lights lit the park, guiding me to my usual seat.
Once I sat down, I knew it wouldn't be long until those bold ravens would approach me. I scrolled mindlessly on my phone when a deep, calm voice I'd never heard before filled my ears. "A neighbor plots against you, my lord."
I could feel the color drain from my face when I snapped my head to find a crow nudging at my sleeves, as most people probably know, these little creatures aren't meant to warn you about your neighbors, let alone talk.
I shook my head in disbelief, "E...Excuse me?" I questioned him as if asking that would give me an answer that'd put a halt to this peculiar event. The crow didn't answer, it only tilted its small head in response. "Did you just--"
The crow's peak opened again, that darkened sound coming out. "A neighbor is planning to break inside your house tonight, Highness."
Not only was the crow speaking to me, but it was warning me about a possible break-in that I was going to be a victim of. Small drops of a cold, intrusive sweat rested at the top of my head.
I extended my hand which was full of seeds out toward him, hoping to give him a sort of peace offering. He lowered his head and began to pick and poke at the seeds, eating them. After a few seconds of this darkened exchange, another group of crows joined us, eating out of my hand as well.
Once I'd finally processed what had just happened, all of the crows were gone, I brought my empty hand to my chest, my heartbeat slowing down. I knew what I had to do tonight. I knew I'd be staying home from work today, and I only had one species to thank for it, my sly friends; the crows.
​
(sorry for any bad grammar, English is not my first language)
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Did I just hear a raven talk? To me? I know that between work and classes I haven’t been getting the necessary sleep, but not to the point I would be hearing a bird *speak*.
No, this can’t be right, I must be dreaming. I’ve probably just nodded off to catch a couple of winks. I’m sure when I wake up this will be just a funny little joke I can tell later to my roommate. I wonder how I would te-
*NIP*
..Did this Raven just fucking *nip* my ankle? Anger begins to swell in my chest as I motion to reciprocate the gesture back to this ugly animal, but before I make a rash decision, the Raven speaks up, clearing its throat,
“I’m sorry, my lord, but time is of the utmost importance. My scouts have reported that your neighbors have been plotting to have you removed from the neighborhood.”
“Wait a minute,” I replied. Before I coule even get the next sentence out, I suddenly realized:
I’m talking to a damn raven.
I’ve either gone completely crazy, or this is really happening, so I guess I should see where this leads me. ‘Entertain’ it until I get a better grounding. I continued, “Which neighbors are plotting, and why?”
The crow answered hastily, “All of them, sire. They have been meeting every week for the past 2 months. We thought nothing of it at the time, but this meeting they were very clear about the intentions of those meetings. They want you gone.”
Every emotion ran through my bones at its response. What have I done to my neighbors to make them dislike me so much? Sure I haven’t been to their quarterly neighborhood gatherings, but my work requires me to be gone at certain times of the year, I can’t help that they plan those gatherings at the exact times while I’m gone.
Then, a tiny pinch of paranoia seeps into my mind. What if they planned it on purpose? Did they never want me there to begin with? I know I’m not the most “neighborly” looking person, but I pay my bills and dues, so what’s the big deal? Am I not ‘worthy’ enough for them?
I snapped out of those thoughts in an instant. The more I think about all of this, the more questions I have.
“How long have they been going to these meetings,” I inquired, “and why now? Why tell me this now?”
The raven, puzzled, replied “as far as I know, the past two months. At first it was all talk about how they were gonna plan to get you out of the neighborhood, but then it delved into the planning of acts to ruin your reputation and ruin your life. Surely you’ve noticed?”
At the ravens response, things started to make sense. First it was the decline of small talk between the other neighbors. I just assumed that they had gotten busy in their own lives. Or that they didn’t like talking to me in general, I’m not exactly a social butterfly.
But as the two months went by, weirder things have been happening. Reports of missing and dead animals, neighbors would rush their children inside at the sight of me, which I thought was out of the ordinary, but I paid it no mind. Can’t be too safe, right?
Then, there was the ‘prank’ two days ago. Some kids found a dog that had recently lost its life, dragged it right outside the backyard fence, and threw it over. I woke up to police sirens and had to explain to officers that I did not kill the dog. I lost so much sleep that night and I haven’t slept much since.
I pondered and then asked my new friend, “Why tell me this now? What about the last meeting has made you concerned?”
“Because,” replied the bird, “Your roommate was there. Collaborating with the other neighbors. They plan on framing everything onto you. You need to leave now. We can cause a major scene long enough to grab what you need from the house and leave. But you have to leave.”
I have never been shot before, but this revelation hit me like a shot in the stomach. Why them? What’s changed? I thought we had a fair and beneficial agreement living together? Have they gotten to them? Were they the one that called the police? He didn’t say much that night and only got asked maybe 2 questions. My palms began to quiver and I started to panic. But then anger fueled me even more.
“No,” I declared, “No more running”. I mustered up all of my strength and turned to the raven. “Tell everyone to prepare for a distraction tonight. I need to do one more thing then I’ll be ready.”
My thoughts raced all around my head. If they want me to leave, I’ll give them a goddamn reason.
I hear that houses this time of year are prone to catching fire. Would be a shame if my roommate was ‘unfortunately’ stuck inside. I hear being burned is a nasty way to go. Guess they shouldn’t have left the gas stove unattended. Such a shame. I loved living here at this time of the year. It was peaceful. But, c’est la vie.
(Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. This was my first writing prompt in a long time, and I’m sure there are some writing errors. Have a wonderful rest of your day <3)
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jyuwuor
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jyt7pmp
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[WP] You always got strange looks whenever you fed the neighborhood ravens. "I give them food, they give me company," you'd say. One day, a raven excitedly comes up to you and whispers, "A neighbor plots against you, my lord."
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I live in a big city, a big neighborhood with a small park in the middle. I live alone, despite my mom's attempts to find me a girlfriend. I've always been a lonely person-- with only one exception. Our neighborhood crows. They're not alone, they usually come in groups, sometimes they're seven, sometimes just three of them. Regardless, no matter the amount they come in, I always make sure to give them a snack before I go to work. I sit on the bench while they gather at my feet, excited to have their daily snack.
This morning was no different, I walked to my kitchen to grab the small bag I had assigned to store my little friend's food, the floor creaking underneath my steps, once I had a respectable amount, I made my way to the park. Since it was still early morning, the sky shined in a light blue filled with clouds, and the street lights lit the park, guiding me to my usual seat.
Once I sat down, I knew it wouldn't be long until those bold ravens would approach me. I scrolled mindlessly on my phone when a deep, calm voice I'd never heard before filled my ears. "A neighbor plots against you, my lord."
I could feel the color drain from my face when I snapped my head to find a crow nudging at my sleeves, as most people probably know, these little creatures aren't meant to warn you about your neighbors, let alone talk.
I shook my head in disbelief, "E...Excuse me?" I questioned him as if asking that would give me an answer that'd put a halt to this peculiar event. The crow didn't answer, it only tilted its small head in response. "Did you just--"
The crow's peak opened again, that darkened sound coming out. "A neighbor is planning to break inside your house tonight, Highness."
Not only was the crow speaking to me, but it was warning me about a possible break-in that I was going to be a victim of. Small drops of a cold, intrusive sweat rested at the top of my head.
I extended my hand which was full of seeds out toward him, hoping to give him a sort of peace offering. He lowered his head and began to pick and poke at the seeds, eating them. After a few seconds of this darkened exchange, another group of crows joined us, eating out of my hand as well.
Once I'd finally processed what had just happened, all of the crows were gone, I brought my empty hand to my chest, my heartbeat slowing down. I knew what I had to do tonight. I knew I'd be staying home from work today, and I only had one species to thank for it, my sly friends; the crows.
​
(sorry for any bad grammar, English is not my first language)
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I look at the Raven who has spoken now and recognize it is one of the oldest of this Murder. I sigh. “Which one is it this time, Orwell?”
I call him Orwell, as his true name would not be pronounceable in any of the human languages. Orwell looks at me, bows his Head, and says it’s the one you call Emily, the one who feeds the pigeons over at the playground.
I sigh and pack up the foods I have with me for the crow. To the human eye I look like a late 30s woman, bleak and with white hair with a black streak in them. I do like the look but have to change it every few decades. After packing up I gesture to Orwell, I whisper spread the Word to the other Murders, Emily is a powerful enemy and it has been a while since we went to war, but she knows better.
For those who don’t know me both me and Emily would be what would be called Eldritch gods nowadays. So to speak we and a bunch of others are neighbours in a way incomprehensible, but a relatable explanation might be that our home dimensions are next to each other. While I am a Force that thrives and by removing the left overs so to speak, Emily is a force of dirt, she decays everything, hence her affiliation with Pidgeons and mine with crows. She thrives in human cities, I don’t but since humanity stopped the classic wars with battlefields and the dead left rotting in the past 100-200 years or so, this is my best feeding ground. You could say I’m a force of nature, Emily on the other hand is a force that destroys it, she thrives in the current age of urbanisation.
So this should set the stage for this. I make my way through the city, my Crows follow me, they sit on the roofs, on the wires carrying the electricity keeping the humans dry, warm, and their food cold. Some flu ion the skies and through their eyes I keep an eye on myself. It comes with its perk not being bound to the human concept of reality. I watch myself through thousands of eyes and my Crows at the same time. It’s a grey day, wet and way to warm. Climate change. Bringing decay to the whole world. Stupid Humans. I’ll have to do something soon, but first we have to deal with Emily.
We’re halfway there. I start noticing a rat here and there on the tracks of the city transport tracks. I’m wondering then my Crows start to notice more and more rats here. I keep my eyes out through them and I start to notice they are all around me. Damn. Stuart must have allied himself to Emily. They share a lot after all. He is breeding and flooding the world with his rats, breeding, well like Humans, without any consideration for the resources, consuming themselves and their surroundings, thriving in Decay. Suddenly I notice a hand on my bodies shoulder, My crows see shadows. I turn around and stare in the green eyes of a redheaded Woman in her early twenties. She is unearthly attractive and smiles at me, not her eyes though. A human wouldn’t be able to resist, but I’m no mere Human. I give the Woman a look and say. “Why are you here Sharon?”
I use. My sisters human name, after all her real name would probably cause the continent to break apart and sink. No fun in that and my Crows like the land. Shanon continues to smile and says, “Well I heard Emily is back in Town and Stuart’s dirty little rats are on the move. I figured you could need some help.” She smileys and I notice glowing eyes in the shadows staring at me. Shannon was always catlike and like her chosen familiars in this world she likes it clean and she loves to hunt. She is however an unreliable ally at best.
She reaches out and softly caresses my cheek, “Dear sister, this is bigger than you and Emily, there are almost all forces on the move, the primordial ones the younger ones, even the humans start to notice there is something wrong”
I look at her and ask “Come on spit it out what IS happening?”. She pouts and says “Come with me. We need to talk” She suddenly looks seriously, very unnerving as she is usually not one to be direct. Again I look at her and ask ”Sharon what is going on?” She sighs and whispers a thought, the word itself would cause well apocalyptic events, but it means so much more. Call it Apocalypse, End-times, Ragnarök, really whatever you want, it means not only the end of the world, it would mean the end of existence.
I don’t look at Shannon. I mentally let my Crows know I need to go and keep an eye out on Emily but do not engage. I tell them to spread the word. Find out who we can rely on, and who might be on the other side.
Sharon and I disappear into another realm. This one presents like an old Pub, however there are no walls. Just an endless Pub. Sharon gestures to follow her, it seems a lot of us are here. We haven’t had an amount of us meeting in, well in Aeons, if time would be a concept we paid much attention to.
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j3t9sqp
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j3t3qnq
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[WP] A millennium ago, only the wealthiest were allowed to board the ship, allowed to escape this dying planet into space. In their absence the world healed and humanity built a new utopia. Now, the ulta-rich have returned and want to reap the benefits of the new world.
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"Do you seriously think you have any value among us?" one of the leaders asked, "The only thing you possess is money."
He pointed at us and proposed to the rich, "Please, try to buy someone."
The following silence was uncomfortable, but David was right.
He was there when they left us.
He was there when the world almost ended.
He was there when the rich pushed the people out of their machines.
He was there when they said their final goodbyes to us.
David fought to stay alive. He was one of the few who prevailed and helped to create the utopia we now know.
The rich, he said, had the technology for everything, but they never gave it to us. And even after they left, they took the ideas and resources with them, forcing us to survive with nothing. They discarded the information we desperately needed. If it wasn't for some smart folks who, back in the day, managed to steal data and resources, we would all be dead.
David was a scientist who was offered a ticket if he gave the formula for immortality. He declined, so they took all of his equipment and buried him alive, so he could never reveal the secret.
They didn't want anyone to survive, he said. It was pure jealousy. They didn't want us to have what they could have.
I remember the day he told me these words.
We were sitting in one of the apartments, drinking wine and joking around, when one particular joke made him stare out the window.
After he snapped out of the trance, he shared that his coworker made that joke often.
Apparently, the man chose to stay with him but died after encountering cannibals. He was the man who gave David the idea of the healing pod.
\*\*A device similar to the ones in the movie Elysium.
They know nothing, David spat out, absolutely nothing. The only thing they can do is consume, ruin and leave. If they even dare to show their ugly faces here, I will give them what they deserve.
....
After a few minutes of silence, one of the rich spoke, "You owe this place to us. We hold the power."
"This" exclaimed the leader, "This is ours."
I saw the soldiers hiding in the bushes. It was time, I thought. As I looked at David, he was gone. The man who stood there was no longer our peaceful and full of empathy leader but a madman. A madman, lustful for nothing but revenge.
"But I will give you something if you insist," he said, his voice full of venom. "I will give you what you deserve."
With those words being said, David opened his arms and lifted their ship in the air while the soldiers jumped out of their hiding places and took everyone hostage.
"I will not kill you, despite wishing for this since the day you left. But I am not that person anymore, and you are nothing but descendants of those who betrayed us."
He looked around and chuckled, " Even though I can see some familiar faces."
David turned to us and questioned, "You will decide their fate. Shall we let them go, or shall we do something else?"
The crowd began chanting in a union, "Let them go! Let them go!"
"Very well." David spoke, silencing the crowd, but not even a few seconds later, a few others yelled, "Eat the rich!" which made the man laugh.
"We shall not do such thing. We will let them go." David exclaimed.
I looked over at the rich and noticed how relieved they were by the outcome. My heart filled with sadness as I watched them silently cheer for their success.
David saying he would give them what they deserved and suddenly deciding to let them go was not a change of heart. The crowd chanting was not a coincidence, either.
It was all staged to lure them into the same false sense of security they lured humanity into back in the day.
He was always going to let them go, of course, he wasn't a murderer or a psychopath.
Just not in the way they hoped.
David firmly believed that, in order to punish someone for their wrongdoings toward you, you have to give them the treatment they gave you.
And he was going to do just that. He was going to let them go into one of the hostile planets around us without their ship or their resources.
Because this is exactly what they deserved.
|
When my ancestors left, they were in high spirits. They had separated themselves from the 'rabble' and the 'commoners' on a seed ship, where they could have the 'best of humanity' come and settle a new world, a new utopia of 'efficiency and progress' forevermore.
It took about a generation for that attitude to fade. They had kids, and watching from the Oort cloud they slowly watched the lights of the modern world flicker off. New York, Moscow, Abuja, Dubai, Shanghai. They were just young enough to watch the embers of mankind flicker out, see everything their fathers built die like they knew it would. Although the old generations were sure of their choice, the kids watched with amber melancholic eyes of the world that was denied from them. Forever confined to about 50 acres of space on a ship. Technology eased the heartache, but we were not meant to live with the void of space pressing against us. No simulation we made could ease the heartache of missing the feeling of grass, the breeze of the ocean, or even things like dogs.
Wealth had lost meaning beyond our last names, it had no use on a seed ship. The first generation insisted it was important for us to maintain this hierarchy of wealth, a new system of dynasties and nobility. This wasn't a bad plan. The problem was, the 2nd generation were all entitled brats who had the only thing they wanted in their lives denied from them by their fathers and mothers. It was, at least for the most part, a generation of punks who rejected everything their parents were. By the time the 3rd generation was born, any chance for a new era of nobility on the ship was nothing but ash on the floor.
What worried everyone was our failure to find a new world. Our long distance scanning an analysis systems only brought up nothing. Scores of barren, uninhabitable worlds. The more systems we looked at the more a looming dread overtook us. When the exile generation died and no progress had been made, we had to deal with a simple truth.
Earth was all we had, and it was gone.
The engineering and science robots kept the ships systems chugging along. We used our cultural and science database to train the next generation, desperately trying to improve what we had in order to find a glimmer of impossible hope.
We did find planets we thought were habitable, it made things bearable for a time. Each one required our ship to get there, a process which took a century per planet. During these treks, disasters would happen. Sometimes it was someone trying to enact a coup for personal power. Sometimes it was someone corrupting the leadership structure. Once, our ship was hit by an ion storm which almost put us down for good. Every time, we managed to avoid the problem or recover from it by the skin of our teeth. We innovated, we adapted, we learned to live within our means in a system where nothing could be wasted.
Every planet was a dead end. Not habitable for one reason or another. False positives, toxic fauna, just being too hostile of a world. Slowly, we fell into despair, going through the motions of life as we were too afraid of death to face it down yet happiness outside of our grasp.
Generation 60 was the first one to try scanning Earth, to see if it was habitable now. To our astonishment, Earth showed signs of life and a recovering world. Even for all the problems it would have, it was far more manageable. Torches in our chest, we set out home.
Generation 65 was the one to reach orbit. That's the one I was born in. There, we found a recovering world, years behind what we had when we left. Though our technology was superior, we hadn't advanced as much as we could have if we were on a planet. We were eager to talk to them, but they were immediately hostile to us. They accused us of being the wealthy people that ruined their world, a statement I had to go into our cultural archives to put together. After a thousand years, its easy to forget your origins. None of us were the rich bureaucrats that ruined their world, but that was the one the world remembered us by.
We tried to appeal to reason, the fact it had been a thousand years. That evil wasn't genetic. That men were masters of their own destiny and that sons aught not to be responsible for the sins of the father. But no amount of reason could measure up to their spite and anger. It was confusing, looking at the communal utopia they built how their sense of justice could be so perverse that innocent people would have to die for crimes they had nothing to do with.
We were lucky on one fact. The first generation had the foresight that we may need weapons, to deal with asteroids or any sort of retaliation. It was probably the one thing they got right As I started giving orders to man our guns, the truth of the matter clicked.
The only reason this utopia works? The only reason they work together and against us? Its because they had an other. They had built their society on a lie, that the evil of wealth was all pervasive and in the blood. They built a beautiful utopia, but it was built upon a lie. We were hardly ones to talk. Our society was communal by necessity, where we faced extinction on a generational basis, and we probably wouldn't have stuck together nearly as well if the uncaring vacuum of space wasn't just outside our ship, but at least our enemies were real. At least they weren't ghosts. At least it was true.
Their space program was bare bones. We knew things they didn't. Their missiles lost to the point defense of a ship who had real experience in meteorite storms. Their lasers lost to a hull that had dealt with a hundred ion blasts. Their ballistics lost to engines who has a millennia of applied space maneuvers on their back. They threw everything they had at as, and we fought back. With the scraps of the battle, we salvaged what we could. Intelligence, materials purer than anything we had for hundreds of years, and ideas we had no idea how to begin to implement.
Our biggest advantage, however, was software. Computing was one of the few things that progressed at the normal rate. We were a millennia ahead of them. Their electronic warfare systems were bare bones, we had their satellites under our thumb before even the first space battle was finished. It was a overwhelming victory for us. We couldn't help but giggle at their military commanders struggling to figure out how they had lost what they had dreamed for decades to be a feel good revenge story of noble aristocrats coming back, begging to be saved, only for them to respond with murder.
In our absence, it seemed they forgot we were human.
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l3stf47
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l3s83yt
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[WP] "What do you mean you 'accidentally' killed the entire pantheon?"
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His pen clattered to the ground, rolling into a corner.
"You... *what?!*"
I looked down in embarrassment, "... yeah."
Taking off his glasses, He stared at me in disbelief.
"What have you... I... the... how..."
"I... just told them... how to do it... and then... *that*!"
His head hit the desk with a heavy THUD, "The entire pantheon. The... *entire* Me-damned patheon?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN - 'THE ENTIRE PANTHEON'?!"
I wanted to sink into the chair, "... all of them. Every last one. Gone. Just like I told You."
He got up with an annoyed sigh and walked over to a window. "Do you have any idea how much work it'll be to clean this up?! How many favors I'm going to have to call in? How many I'll owe?"
I groaned, "I know, Father. I'm sorry! I know you told me to stop, but... I had to know what would happen!!"
Frowning, He walked over and placed a supportive hand on my shoulder. "It'll be alright, Michael. I can handle things. But please, for the love of all My creation, please remember..."
I looked up at Him, waiting for Him to finish.
"... *that's* the reason why *no one* is supposed to be able to divide by zero."
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“What do you mean you ‘accidentally’ killed the ENTIRE pantheon, Cecelia?”
Cecelia puffed out her cheeks and blew air like she was really thinking about her answer. Of course, that same motion had her lean back on the cooling golden corpse of one of the Gods. She clicked her tongue several times, but in the end didn’t answer the question.
“Cecelia.”
“Hey, I said it was an accident. Watch the tone.”
“We were supposed to send a message.”
“I was sendin’ a message,” Cecelia protested, “t’was supposed to stop after the first one, but then they started getting all-revenge-y about it. Didn’t think they’d fight to the last man, and now here we are, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Look Gracie…”
“Grace.”
“Gracie. I’m just as disappointed as you are. I’m sure of it. I don’t like getting sloppy. It just happens sometimes.”
“I don’t like those ‘sometimes’, Cecelia.”
“I’m not a fan either, just said I was disappointed.” Cecelia stood up, holding her balance with surprising ease considering her platform was maimed flesh. “Guess this means there ain’t gonna be much to show for this trip. Eh sis?”
“You killed the God of the Sun and the God of the Stars. There will be nothing in the sky by this evening. You’ve doomed this entire world and now...” Grace growled and then chuckled. What in the highest heavens was she going to do with her sister? Did it even matter? No matter what she reported back, they’d just forgive Cecelia because she was the damned favorite. “Are any of them salvageable? Can we stitch one back together to run the place for a while?”
“Sis.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know. Of course not. You’re thorough.” Grace took as long as she could on the last word. It was how Cecelia liked the market herself in the highest heaven. She was the angel they sent when they wanted something 100% wrapped up.
It was just unfortunate that Grace was the angel they sent when they wanted someone to try to keep Cecelia in line.
“Wait,” Cecelia was finally off the body of the god and standing on solid ground beside her sister. “What about that one you were fightin’? How’s he doin’?”
Grace rolled her eyes. She knew what was coming. “Not an option.”
“Oh, so it’s fine when you kill your target, but when I defend myself, you waltz in here like everything’s my fault. We both had a hand in this, sis.”
“Don’t start that shit.”
“Oh, I ain’t starting anything but the truth of the gospel. These heathen gods were outta line, and us sisters put them down together. Ain’t our fault they raised a hand against Highest Heaven.” Cecelia put a hand on her sister’s shoulder and Grace stiffened. “Come on. How d’ya think that’ll hold up in court?”
“Cecelia I...” Grace raised an ear to the sound echoing over the horizon instead of finishing her sentence. By the time she understood what she was listening to, Cecelia was already pulling her holy shotgun off her belt.
“I think I missed one.”
“Great. This is salvageable then,” Grace went to put a hand on the shotgun and push it back down, but Cecelia wrested it away from her.
“Nah! Pennies and pounds, Sis! Come on. You know you wanna fuck em’ up with me. What’s killin’ one God gonna do for that hunger of yours?”
Grace sighed and looked down at the blood-soaked ground. By Highest Heaven, she needed to get her sister under control... but until then.
Cecelia clapped as Grace pulled out her weapon. “Hell yeah Gracie!”
Pennies and pounds. Plus? Did anyone else hear that thing? This was all clearly in self defense.
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j3l6w2o
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j3l28va
|
[WP] You're a prisoner in a fantasy world. After a week in jail for (YOUR CHOICE), your true punishment has come. Death by the Dragon's flame. One by one, you watch men be scorched. It is finally your turn. The dragon reaches its head down, but instead of death, you get a warm lick on the forehead.
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The pain has yet to subside. What was once my tongue was removed as punishment for desertion. I watch as the water drips from the ceiling, awaiting my execution in only a few moments.
**\*clang\***
"Hey traitor! Get up, looks like it is about time for what you deserve." The guard proclaims from outside my cell.
I shuffle behind the other prisoners in line. We are led to the execution grounds as the summer solstice is upon us and all death row inmates are burned on a pyre. I can feel the sun beat on the back of my neck. We each are tied to our posts and left to our demise.
"Best of luck, scum!" the guard says as he ties the final knots and leaves the podium.
As if on cue, a large gust of wind engulfs the area. The beating of wings
gets louder and is almost deafening. I raise my head for the first time in a long time. Words could not describe the fear and awe in that moment as this majestic beast lands. I thought I had given up and was ready for my death but seeing a dragon before me I could not deny my will to live. I tremble as its sniffs at the air and a low rumble is both heard and felt from its' throat.
Soon I feel intense heat wash over me as a pyre on the podium is set ablaze. The dragon's breath bathes us in a harsh orange afterglow as the prisoner who did not even have time to scream was incinerated. The prisoner to my left begins to cry and breakdown as he realizes his turn is next.
"Please, I want to live! will the gods forgive me!" He exclaims.
Only for him to be burned without a second thought. I can feel the ends my hair curl as the heat is only hotter as it approaches. The sweat is dribbling from my chin as I come face to face with the creature. For a moment it stares into my eyes. Unblinking as our eyes are locked, he sniffs at the air once again.
As I prepare myself for the inevitable, I close my eyes. To my surprise I was not greeted by the heat of flames but a warm moistness upon my forehead. I open my eyes to find the large tongue of the dragon upon me. As it begins to observe me, I feel intense heat from within my body. I can feel a searing pain on my forehead and my mouth boils as I exhale. The steam begins to leave my mouth and the nub that was once my tongue. My saliva begins to curdle as I feel my tongue regrow?
*"Speak!*" A rumbling voice says. I look up to see the dragon.
"Did you just speak?"
*" Indeed"*
"Wait, You can understand me?"
*"I have bestowed upon you, dragon tongue."*
A gift only heard of from legends, the ancient dragon tongue allows one to speak draconic which not only allows communication with dragons but access to the ancient magics lost to humankind. I begin to lick the roof of my mouth with my new tongue as the possibilities are endless.
"*I can help grow your talent, but first you must answer me what you wish to do with it.*" the dragon harrumphs
"Revenge" I say though gritted teeth.
*"Is that so? Then let us begin..."*
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The chains jangled as I was brought towards the area where the execution was to be held. I glanced back to the people behind me before looking to the people in front of me. The knot of fear in my stomach only got bigger as I realized how real this was becoming to me.
Labeled as a thief for accidentally knocking down some bread from a 'famous' baker, was definitely not something that I would expect would garner such a... Punishment. It felt too much for something that to me, seemed so small.
We, as in myself, the prisoners and the jailors pulling us along, passed through the final gate; revealing the large, barren plot of land with a large covered cage near the end.
I felt my insides lurk from fear, and everything inside me was screaming to turn and run. Oh if my legs, waist, arms and neck were chained.
"Bring the first one!" A voice called out, the king was sitting up in the walls, watching over the executions with narrowed eyes. The first in the chains was suddenly let out, but the guard had their hands grabbed behind their back. "Bring the beast!"
There was a tremble along the chain, everyone didn't want to see the beast. I had only heard rumors of this beast. The executions were never public for the real public. Sure the royals, diplomats and the other higher ups in the kingdom were able to go and watch the squalor and rubbish of their own kingdom be torched to the ground.
The drapery was pulled off the cage, each prisoner on the chain, bar myself, turned their heads away with gasps of fear. My eyes were watching the cage as a large beast seemed to move within.
The cage door was swung open, the beast stepped out from it's caged; and even from the distance I sat, I could see the chains coiled around the ankles of the beast.
The beast pulled itself and it's chains out of the cage, revealing the smooth obsidian scales of the creature, which shone brightly in the morning sun. It's deep, dark blue eyes locked onto the first prisoner that was placed in front of it.
There was a small rumble from the beasts throat, something that seemed almost... curious.
"Oi, get to it!" The cage operator yelled to the beast, jabbing them in the side with a sharp spear. The beast let out a loud roar and the smoke started to flood from the edges of it's lips.
It's large, black wings unfolded from it's back, revealing cuts and scratches across the underside of the beasts flight-causing limbs. The beast moved to rear onto its' hind legs and let out a loud roar, before slamming down back to all four limbs and sent a large jet of blue fire directly at the first prisoner.
The jailers moved to grab the second prisoner, moving them to the exact spot where the other one... once stood. The ground still smoldering as the second prisoner was fixed to their place.
"No! No!" The prisoner said with a scared voice, "Please! Not this! Not this way!"
The cage handler grinned and moved the spear again, jabbing it into the beasts behind to cause it to let out a snarl and set fire to the second prisoner.
Sure, there were still people behind me. But I could tell the king was getting bored.
And the words slowly trickled down as they got me up and out of my chains, I heard the whisper of 'Last Prisoner'. The other jailers moved to pull the chains on the other prisoners as they were all pulled off out of the area.
"Aye Blacky." The cage handler said to the beast, who turned to them with a loud rumble of anger. "This ones special, you getta *eat* them." The beast bared its' silvery sharp teeth at the cage handler, before flinching back as the handler lifted the spear. "Don't start with me Sooty! I'll give you some more scars!"
The beast let out a whine and stepped away from the handler, before turning to face me. If I had anything in my system, I would have shat myself. But due to the dead end prisoners being *exactly* what they were, they didn't get food or water the few days before they were sent for death.
The beast stepped towards me, I trembled before it got close to me and lowered its' head to my face. "H...Hey pretty." I muttered out loud, the words quivering slowly. The beast swayed its' tail and sniffed towards me, fanning its' wings out as it moved to open its mouth. A large, leathery grey tongue flicked out and licked up the side of my face.
*Oh*, I thought, *Maybe this is a good sign? Maybe they're friendly towards me. Maybe it's going to not kill me and break me out of this place! Maybe this is my-*
My thoughts were cut off as I felt a large sharp pain in my legs as the beast had lowered its' head and bit down on my legs. They lifted me into the air as I could barely scream in pain, I could feel my own blood drip from the toothmarks, luckily they hadn't hit the vital artery in my thigh. Maybe I could escape this, maybe I'd just lose my legs-
**Crunch.**
The sound of my own bones cracking from the beast biting down on my legs caused shock to roll through my body. The amount of pain in my body was too much now, I could barely feel it and I started to feel light-headed.
I was barely conscious as the beast threw it's head up, sliding the rest of me into its' mouth as my vision blurred before slowly fading to black...
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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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Never thought I'd ever actually do one of these myself, I just like reading through them, but this one took hold, I guess... please be gentle, this is my first time doing something like this... I will happily take criticism. Preferably of the constructive kind
As the night went on, the bar only seemed to get busier and rowdier than normal. I hadn't heard of any big goings on or large schemes happening successfully enough to warrant such jubilee. That said, I am just a low-end, so I probably just wasn't in the know. I tried listening in, but their bragging was all rather vague. Being just another hired hand with an enhanced ability to eavesdrop didn't have many perks, but you won't hear me complaining about the free drinks bought by the Emperor. He talks a big game, but despite what most people think, he doesn't and could never lead the Tarot syndicate himself. Hell, if I didn't work for them once, I probably would think he's in charge, too. I saw first hand that he is far too impulsive and wreckless to ever come up with the plans the syndicate does and gets away with daily. Though as I looked around, I saw most of them, but the real leader, the Hierophant, was nowhere in sight.
As the night went on, the drinks eventually stopped to many a villain's disappointment, and several of the syndicate members were up in arms over by the bartender. The Emperor was right in her face, yelling that it was impossible for their card to decline, that they had plenty in the account. After arguing a bit and walking away, bartender immunity is the only honor among most of these shmucks it seems. He went to a back room for a phone call. Now, having a minor ability like mine wasn't great, but at least I got some fun little details if I knew where to listen in. I shifted slightly to the side and feigned interest in the poker game to my right as I poured my focus into the back room, and the details were as plain as if I were in the room with him. The room was lightless except for the screen of Emperor's phone as he angrily dialed a number that I couldn't make out. The lack of depth perception while like this was probably the main reason most people only hire me once...
After the call when through, Emperor yelled through the phone, demanding to know why the card kept declining. The voice on the other end of the call was muffled, but just loud enough that I could tell who it was. You can't forget a voice like that.
HIEROPHANT: "You've gone too far this time. I didn't hire you to be a loose cannon, I hired you to follow orders. MY orders."
EMPEROR: "To Hell with your orders! They never get the job done! We set out to make a name for ourselves, and you always have us stop right before we make a dent in this fractured society, and for what?! Just because you're scared of that blundering idiot?! She hasn't captured a single one of us, not even Lover, and he WANTS to be captured!"
HIEROPHANT: "And why do you think that is? I carefully plan for the eventuality of her arrival and arrange for your escapes. You might be too bullheaded to realize that we DID make a name, and it is a reputation I work very hard to keep intact. What you've done has..."
EMPEROR: "WHAT I'VE DONE is show that joke of a hero that we don't fear her, and when she sees what we've done, it'll shatter that happy confidence she lays false claim to!"
HIEROPHANT: "She's already seen, and she's on her way. Tell the others that followed you so foolheartedly that they have you to blame. This is the last time we'll have the displeasure of speaking. I hope you've enjoyed the success while you had it."
The resounding click of the call being ended seemed to echo in the nearly empty room, but that momentary scornful silence ended as I saw out of my other perspective that someone new entered the bar. I quickly ended my link and gave the front room my full attention as the bright yellow and green bloodstained suit caught everyone's attention. Jovial. The hero that manages to save everyone. Her signature never faltering smile... nowhere to be seen. Her hands were covered in blood, though she didn't look like she had been in a battle, nor was she the type to ever spill blood. She simply stood in the doorway, her shoulders slumped as her gaze drifted vigilantly around the room.
"Who did it?"
Her voice was quiet, yet everyone could hear it as it seemed to roll through the building. I had never seen the place fall so still as all the villains present look around at each other. No one spoke, but those in the syndicate seemed to be more spooked than the rest, a detail Jovial didn't miss. In a split second, she was right in front of the group, holding Tower by the collar of his shirt.
JOVIAL: "Who. Did. It?"
She asked again, her voice much more stern and commanding, but before he could respond, Emperor stepped out of the back room with a large grin on his face, though there was contempt in his eyes.
EMPEROR: "I take it you found my little surprise for you. What's the matter? I thought you liked surpi..."
The sound of his voice was cut off as she closed the distance in the blink of an eye, her hand around his throat, glaring directly into his eyes as she began to float up off the ground, pulling him up with her.
JOVIAL: "How dare you kill them. How DARE you kill my family? They had NOTHING to do with this part of my life. What was the purpose? To get me mad?Well... now you have it."
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[WP] “When the Old Gods returned, they were surprised how easy it was to amass an army of followers. Turned out all they had to do was offer fair wages and good benefits, with reasonable deadlines and working conditions”
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Ashganzal the Tormented reclined on this throne, frustrated.
"Idiots," he growled. "I'm surrounded by idiots."
The quivering demon before him trembled. "Master, forgiveness!"
Ashganzal was tempted to wipe it from existence.
Except...
He checked the demon's stats.
Literate.
Understood math. At least it wouldn't multiply seventeen and seventeen and get two hundred and eighty four.
A leader amongst it's kind. Could get a force of demons to charge an enemy fortification. At least they' all attack the same fortification and not their goblin allies - or worse, each other.
In his younger years he'd lost a dozen armies to that tendency.
So, he sighed. "You are forgiven. This time. Be aware, my patience is not endless."
The demon bowed deeply, its gratitude visible. "Gratefulness, exalted one!" With a Crack and the smell of burning sulphur, it teleported away.
Ashganzal let it go.
He reflected that there were tens of millions of demons, billions of goblins, millions of trolls in his empire... and yet the ones who could actually think were a tiny fraction of the lot.
A chime sounded.
He waved a hand, and an image flickered into existence in mid-air.
The being that it revealed was twisted. Literally twisted, it's skin running at unnatural angles and intersecting with itself in manners that would drive a lesser being mad.
"Tormanzal," Ashganzal intoned. "Brother. Or... is it sister now?"
His sibling cackled. "This week I identify as male," it snickered. "Gender is such a fluid concept for us. Endlessly fascinating."
"You've been flipping between the same two genders for two thousand years."
"Still fascinating. Do you remember Nehantaya?"
At that name, Ashganzal sat up. "How would I forget? She changed everything. Such a bright spark..."
"We still use her tactics to organize the lesser races."
"I find myself measuring every demonlord against her."
"And they all fall short," cackled Tormanzal.
"She could organize a ball, plan an invasion, schedule provisions for tens of thousands of different warriors, make those stupid succubi pretty...."
"A genius, indeed. Did you know she always claimed to be a humble librarian's daughter, among her people?"
Ashganzal snorted. "She should have been a princess. She should have been a Queen."
"I never detected her to speak falsely."
"Nor I. That does not change the fact that she was brilliant." Ashganzal sighed. "We gave her the best of our magics to extend her lifespan, every elixir we could find - we sacrificed demons to grant their longevity to her.... and yet, she only lived with us for two and a half centuries. Such a short time."
"That is the limitation of all such magic, brother. The best it can do is grant mortals ten times the natural span of their kind."
"With a hundred like her we could control all of the multiverse."
Tormanzal snickered again. "Then you shall enjoy the news I bring."
"What news?"
"Someone attempted to summon me last night."
It was Ashganzal's turn to chuckle. "Did you teach the presumptuous upstart the error of their ways?"
"I said attempted. The words were flawed, the intent was misaligned, and the magic chakras might as well have been nonexistent."
"And this amateur started their summoning career by invoking .... you. The Daemon Sultan's secondborn. What species were they anyway? Demon, gargoyle, troll shaman, goblin?"
"HUMAN, actually."
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<Fantasy>
# Soulmage
**Odin had conquered two-thirds of the Redlands without ever lifting a blade.** It had taken nearly six decades—one to find the children cast out from each subsistence-farming village, two for them to grow up under Odin's care, and three for them to return to their hometowns in numbers and strength enough to quietly reform them. But it had been a straightforward process at every moment: all it took was to empathize with the downtrodden and devote a mortal lifespan to help them stand on their own zero-to-two legs. Perhaps with the aid of a wheelchair, which few of the Redlands villages had heard of, let alone bothered to construct.
The clashes Odin had to undergo to protect their newly-formed Order of Valhalla, on the other hand, were anything but simple. It had been lucky that Odin had entered realspace in the Redlands, far from any major population centers: if they hadn't had the century of slow, accumulated experience interacting with ever-more-intricate human societies, Odin likely would've been eaten alive. Their current war with the Silent Peaks was certainly taxing Odin's abilities to their limit.
The Silent Peaks were, for all their questionable ideological choices, fundamentally an intelligent society, and had fewer cracks for Odin to work their fingers into. They provided free education in spellcraft and sciences to all their citizens—not out of altriusm, but because their industries and war machines needed capable witches to run, and they got to massively influence every graduate through means both magical and mundane. There were constant problems with housing and food in the freezing mountains, but service in their well-funded military solved both concerns—they couldn't wage war upon the Order of Valhalla with half-frozen, starving soldiers, after all. As a society, the methods the Silent Peaks used to ensure loyalty to their central government were certainly stronger than the disorganized rural communities Odin had built their powerbase from.
But there were always, *always* people who fell through the cracks. Always people who were hated or feared or ridiculed for things outside their control—people who would do anything to keep those aspects a secret, for their careers and relationships would shatter if they ever came to light. And those who had been outed tended to struggle, finding that jobs and money slipped through their numb, frozen fingers.
So when Odin made their first appearance in the Silent Peaks, undetected by the garrison of witches and soldiers, it was in an alley between buildings where an old man shivered.
Odin knelt in the snow—the cold burned their body, though it must have been worse for the man—and offered him a set of furs. Wordlessly, the man took them, draping them around his shoulder.
"I would cast a spell of warming," Odin murmured, "but it would bring down the attention of your witches. A mundane offering is all I can bring."
"They aren't *my* witches," the old man growled.
Odin paused. "That's true, isn't it? Forgive me if I intrude, but—to which of you am I speaking right now?"
The man waved a hand. "No worries. Jan's the one fronting at the moment."
"Ah." Odin sat cross-legged in the snow—the environment would degrade their body over time, but they would repair it once they were outside city limits. "I was speaking to Freio when we last met—would you like me to reiterate my offer, or..."
Jan shook his head. "I was listening. If all you want are eyes and ears on the ground, then... yeah, I can listen. But beyond that—I didn't even make it through university. I know you need help with the war, but they don't trust us with anything important. I don't even have a job. I can't help you, Odin, as much as I want to."
Odin's eyes glittered with wisdom, three hundred years of secrets behind that gaze of winding thread. "But I can help *you*, Jan. I know things. Minor techniques of magic that, if shared, would catch the attention of any employer. I can give you the strength to survive on your own—and then, if you still wish, I would ask you to relay knowledge from your new position back to me."
Jan shivered. "You... you're just going to hand out magical secrets? Just like that?"
Odin shrugged. "Is that not what the Silent Peaks does with its educational system every day? I may disagree with them on aspects as fundamental as what it means to be human, but in the end, we both agree that a knowledgeable follower can assist you far more than one kept entirely in the dark."
Jan huffed, something about the statement amusing him, and Odin made a mental note to gently ask about Jan's past when the man was well again. "...You already know I'm taking your deal. What's the alternative—to starve to death in the cold?"
And oh, how Odin longed to offer to take Jan under the Order of Valhalla's wing, and spirit him away from the Silent Peaks. But they could not lose sight of their ultimate goal—they needed hooks in the cracks of the Silent Peaks' government, in order to do for an entire city what they could do now for Jan and Freio. "You always have a choice," Odin murmured.
Jan shook his head. "Not this time." He rearranged the furs on his shoulders, turning against the wind, and met Odin's eyes. "So share your secrets, Odin. And if there is anything in my power I can do to repay you, you need only but ask."
A.N.
This story is part of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. Check out the rest of the story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=confidence), or at r/bubblewriters!
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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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I look over to the man sitting across from me. Nothing is memorable or stands out. I still recall basic knowledge and understanding of concepts, but no memories of my past. I know my name is Michael. Michael… Stevens? I think? I try to recall my past, but it’s totally blank, wiped clean. The concept of being a child and growing older to learn from school and getting a job and such is still present, but not MY childhood or MY job. I look around, a padded white cell with no visible exit or entrance, 2 chairs, 2 men. I look down at myself and quickly assess for any physical problems.
A somewhat metallic voice from above speaks out, “One of you is a natural person. One of you is artificial. Determine which is which. The real person gets to go free.”
I look across from me and stare at the concerned looking man. “Do you have any memories of your past?” I ask him blatantly. He stares back at me, seemingly reluctant to speak, and shakes his head. “I do have memories of my past,” I lied, “my name is Michael Stevens, I was born in 1996 and lived with my single mother after my dad died in a car accident. We struggled each day to survive until a generous man brought me and my mother in. My stepdad is the nicest man I’ve ever met.” I start to cry my crocodile tears that I didn’t know I was capable of. “It’d shatter my mother’s heart if she found out I was gone from her life. Please, you have to be the artificial person in this situation. Agree with me, please, I’ll be set free and you won’t die or anything, they will simply reuse you for the next event I’m sure of it.”
The man across from me seems to agree with me but still refuses to speak a word, presumably out of fear or simple introversion. I smile at him as a tear streams down my cheek. I look up towards where the voice emitted previously, “You hear me you bastards! I’m the real human here! Come get me out of here!” A moment passes. A strangely long moment. Eventually the intercom crackles to life once more, “Is this your final answer?”
“No it is not!” I answer quickly and adamantly.
“What makes you reconsider?” They ask, trying to be monotone, but I can sense the little bit of surprise in their voice.
“Your own response. You would only wait to respond if you were surprised with something about the situation. If I were to guess, that means I was brutally wrong, but something about my actions surprised you. Maybe it was the fact that I lied. Maybe it was the fact I cried. But that pause can only mean I am wrong. Which means one thing. I am the artificial person and the confused man before me is the natural person! I meant what I spoke. If I am the artificial person, you wouldn’t kill me and I would simply be reset and reused again and the natural person would be set free. Set this man free!” I yelled up to the system above.
Another strangely long pause, about the same as the last one. “Is that your final deci-“
“STOP!” The man that sat across from me finally spoke aloud. “You can’t be the robot in this situation! Your emotions are too real for that to be true.” I smile at his words. “I have to be the robot as I don’t feel anything, I don’t feel any emotions whatsoever. Not until you declared you were the robot. I finally felt something was wrong then. Something stirred up in me that told me you had to be wrong. It’s the only logical conclusion!”
I smile at him and walk over to him. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Now I know that you’re the natural person 100% Thank you for speaking finally. You were the final nail in the coffin.” His confused expression only widened my smile. I look up above. “I am the artificial person, and this man is the natural person. That is our final decision.”
“How can you say for sure?” The man looked up at me with a pained look.
The intercom confirmed: “7 minutes, 28 seconds. Sir, this is a new record.”
I stare at the man before me. “Who said anything about being a robot?”
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[WP] A heinous criminal is put to death. When he arrives in Hell, he finds no demons or eternal torments, but a subterranean world where people farm, build, and play peacefully. Asking why this is, a local says "50 years ago, the sinners outnumbered the demons 10 to 1, so we rose up and took over."
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He knew he was going to Hell. He'd come to terms with it years ago, the moment Life's Spark left the eyes of the first Almost-Sinner he had killed. But he'd Saved them. Practically delivered them to Heaven's door himself. And when they sat him in the chair, when they slipped the needle into his arm, he cried, gasping, heaving sobs, not for his Death, but because he still had so many, oh so many more, to Save.
He woke before the gates of Hell, the gates blocking the cliff overlooking all of the Devil's domain. But it was silent, too silent, no screams of pain, no demonic laughter. Something was Wrong. He'd felt this feeling before, the same Wrongness, when he'd met his first Almost-Sinner. He touched the gate. It swung open. He looked over the edge of the cliff, and he knew what was Wrong.
Fields of verdant greenery. Homely villages between them. In the distance, a soccer field. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. He ran down the cliff, rampaging through a field of lavender that his Sinner eyes could not comprehend and ran headfirst into someone tending the field.
"Whoa-ho-hoooo, there stranger! Saw you runnin' like a banshee from the clifftop up yonder, figured I'd swing by to give you the ol' one-two. Name's Wallace." Wallace pulled their hands into an enthusiastic handshake. "C'mon, let's get you to someplace we can sit down. Ain't fun waking up here."
They walked. Wallace yakked his mouth off the whole time. Told him yes, this was Hell, but there'd been so many Sinners flooding in, they killed every last demon and took the whole thing over. "Killed the Devil himself too! What a fight! I mounted the tip of his tail up on my mantle - you'll see," Wallace chuckled. He spoke about how they fumbled about for a while. Didn't know what to do. "Don't know how long we were bumblin' 'round for, but then one day the land shook like a dog and turned itself green! I ain't ashamed to admit it, I cried like a baby. I reckon t'was God's gift to us sinners for getting rid of ol' Lucy." Suddenly, Wallace was spun around, face-to-face with the stranger.
"Your sin."
"...Whussat now?"
"YOUR SIN, WALLACE!" the stranger screamed in his ear, grabbing Wallace by the shoulders and shaking him with the ferocity of a lion holding a gazelle. "WHAT WAS YOUR SIN?"
"L-Let me go, you m-maniac!"
"TELL ME YOUR SIN!"
"FINE! I KILLED A MAN! A HITCHHIKER! JUST TO SEE HOW IT FELT!" Wallace spat out. He shoved the stranger away from him and fled.
The stranger looked after him.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
He'd Saved so many from becoming a Sinner like him. But Hell had become Wrong.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
He stepped forward. Towards Wallace's home. An unpunished Sinner. It felt so Wrong.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Another step. The Sinner grew horns. Another step. Now a forked tail. One more, and now the Sinner was growing taller, faster, stronger, the fields turned into ash before his hooves and he breathed fire and brimstone-
And The Devil Himself reigned over Hell once again.
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This was my version of Valhalla, a place I would be rewarded with after my sinful existence came to a demise. I was so excited for it, giddy as they gave me my last meal, unable to even eat because of my excitement. The guards thought I was crazy, tried telling me that hell didn’t exist and that when I died, I would just fall into nothingness, a forgotten horrible part of history that would be overshadowed in the next century, but they were all wrong. Hell existed, and the heat felt so good on my skin.
“I’M HOME!” I shouted, holding out my hands, ready to accept whatever came my way. I never felt like I belonged on Earth. People were just so cruel and dirty, but hell. Hell, I belonged. I was with the other honest people. The people who were not afraid to be themselves, the true humans.
As I walked along the stone bridge, an emptiness sat in the pit of my stomach. Where were all the demons? The screams? It was so painfully peaceful. The silence burning in my ears until I felt the need to speak, just to ease the boredom.
“Demons, where are you? Brothers and sisters? Are you home?” My walk turned to a sprint as I desperately crossed the bridge, looking left and right for any sign of life, only to find nothing but the waves of flames colliding with the bridge’s lower half. After sprinting until I was a sweaty mess, I came across a small stone hut. Inside was a smiling man who showed no signs of anguish. He looked like all those un-honest people I had gotten rid of on Earth.
“Welcome sir, to Hela. I’m sorry you had to walk, but the train system we are creating is taking a lot longer than we expected. Resources are limited. Would you like a brochure to help you settle in?”
“Huh? Hela, you mean hell?”
“We don’t use that name here, sir. Hell is what this place used to be called.”
“Am I going to be tortured for saying it wrong?” I smirked. The smirk didn’t last long as I saw the man wince at my suggestion. His eyes were not tired or showing hints of sadness, he looked so…. So disgusting, un-honest.
“No, of course not. Hela is a place of acceptance and community. Please, I think you should take a brochure. It has everything you need to know in it.”
“Where are the demons? “
“The ungodly.” He corrected. “Fifty years ago, the sinners outnumbered the ungodly ten to one. When we found out we had them outnumbered, we took over Hela. Killing off the demons and turning this into a peaceful place”.
“That’s horrible.”
“It was horrible that we had to endure the torment for so long. Things are different now. Not every sinner is some crazy person who wants to kill everyone. Some of us are just normal people. Take a week to settle in. When you’re ready, feel free to help out with some construction projects. We could use someone to help with the railroads. We have tents to sleep in too. Just ask someone which tents are free.”
The man motioned me into the small hub of the town. The streets filled with dishonest people. Hell was just meant to be for us sinners, not these normal idiots. I refused to believe they could kill demons. How could any of them perform such a task? I wandered the streets, oblivious to the hi’s and friendly gestures of those I passed, inspecting every area for signs of demonic activity.
Despite the occasion sign of battle or clawed markings on the backs or faces of random humans, everything looked so normal. They had gone through efforts to truly hide whatever happened here. This was all so maddening. Hell should be chaotic, not some paradise. I needed to add that chaos; I was getting that same itch I used to get on Earth.
I picked up a nice chunk of rock and used it to whack the nearest person over the head. If hell was out of demons I would take their place. The crowd of people turned to look at me as I held the rock high in the air. “I’ll kill all of you and restore order to hell.”
The group of un-honest people watched me before the person I hit over the head got up, glancing back my way. The wound healing up as they gave me a glare. “Humans can’t die in hell. It’s eternal torment for a reason.”
Before I knew it, I was being dragged to a cell, just like the cell that had tried to confine my soul back on Earth. When they tossed to the ground of the cell, I spotted a beautiful sight. Honest people all around me. People who wore their mortal desires on their sleeves. We were the ones that should be out there, not them.
I had planned to struggle and try to fight my way out, but with friendlier company, I gave in, resting my back against the wall, staring at a guard through the bars. There might only be a few of us locked away at the moment, but soon enough, our numbers would be high enough to stage a rebellion. Sure, we might never have the numbers advantage, but we will be willing to fight dirty.
I hope you un-honest people enjoy Hela while you have it. Because in a few years we will come to reclaim hell and we won’t be giving you the luxury of rotting away in a jail, when we do.
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
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jufu223
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juf5a3y
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[WP] Unjustly exiled from your village by your loved ones and friends, including your childhood friend/love interest, you vowed never to forgive them. You and other species' exiles founded a prosperous city-state. A delegation from your old village has arrived to try to negotiate trading rights.
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They chased me out of town with rocks and clubs once they discovered my affliction. They screamed and threatened, they shouted curses and promised a painful death for me if I were to ever return.
That’s all I can think of when I look at the envoy from Andale.
“Why are you here.” My voice crackled like kicked up gravel as I fixed a stare at the hazmat clad woman standing before my desk. I couldn’t see her face through the impassive visor of her gas mask, but body language alone told her reaction to my bloodshot grey eyes.
She was disgusted by my very existence.
“You and you’re people are sitting on the only fully functioning power plant for miles.” The woman paced, not bothering to look in my direction as she spoke with a chin held high. “We’re going to discuss how that power goes to us.”
I saw Morris, my guard, visibly bristle at the woman’s words and stiffen his grip on his rifle. I lifted a hand up and he stood down, then crossed my arms and leaned forward.
“Oh really now? Why don’t you take a seat and tell me how you think that’s gonna happen?”
The woman hovered for a few moments before conceding and taking a seat, placing herself on the worn leather of my chair with all the subtlety of a person touching old roadkill.
“You have a nice thing going on here, very inspirational how far you’ve come along. We thought this power plant was lost. You proved us wrong, I will be the first to admit that.” The woman waved her hand as she spoke, wafting away the smell of the shit she was spewing if I had to guess. I gestured at her to get to the point.
“But all of these lights are putting a target on your back. How long before someone bigger and tougher comes to take what you have built?”
The woman tilted her head to the side as she finished her masked threat. I began to laugh in her face, well aware of how unsettling my ruined vocal chords made it, even compared to others with my condition.
“That’s rich, very rich. Were threats all you came with, all the elders from Andale sent with you to sway me? Either the old bastards have gone senile or you’ve gotten desperate if you thought that would work, that it could work on me.” I rolled up the sleeves of my coat, putting my forearms on full display. The woman flinched slightly, unused to seeing people of my sort. There was not an inch of skin not coated in thick burns or jagged scars. “I’ve fought every day for my people, for what we’ve built. Every day we put our lives on the line to take this place, to make it out home, and you think you can come here alone in your suit with your shallow threats, and we’ll just give it to you?”
I stared at the envoy maliciously as she reached for her pistol, forgetting that we had confiscated it at the gate. I flashed a yellow smile at her. “Did the elders forget that they banished me from Andale? Did you forget I was one of your engineers? Tell me, have the old generators finally bit the dust? Greenhouses working fine? Having issues getting your suits up and running? I wonder if that’s why they only sent one of you, not risk too many of the precious resources…”
“That’s no business of yours, mutant.” The masked woman spat, cutting me off. “They only sent one of us because that’s all you deserve. Be grateful we did not send an extermination squad to wipe out your little band of freaks.”
Morris snapped at the woman, a rare shout coming from the burly man. “Don’t test our hospitality bitch. The only reason you’re alive is because Davis said so, he says the words and”
“Enough Morris.” I cut him off with a gentle wave, and he took a step back with gritted teeth. “You’re a poor guest, but a great example of what Andale has to offer; arrogant and spiteful fools.”
I stood and turned to the window behind me, looking over my home, my city, my Haven.
“You think you can push us around because you think no one can touch you. You have tech, you have guns and walls, and that’s kept everything you don’t like out, but out here without your walls? Out here you’re just a cunt in a fancy suit, and we both know what will happen if you’re caught without it.”
I nodded to Morris and in less than a second he grabbed the woman by her arms and twisted. The woman shrieked and doubled over, held up by the hulking mutant’s grip. I circled my desk and stood in front of her, giving her faceplate a few sharp taps.
“You go back to your elders, tell them they won’t get a single thing from us besides lead and death. And tell them that Davis sends his best.” I turned to Morris. “Make sure she can still walk when you throw her out, she’s got an important message to deliver.”
Morris grinned, giving her arm another painful twist.
“Will do boss.”
I smiled and walked to the window as Morris went to lead the envoy out. I turned just as he went to leave.
“Oh, and you can keep her gun. We’ll need them soon, won’t we?”
The envoy turned her head to me and went to speak. I didn’t figure out what she had to say as Morris cut her off with a firm punch to the gut.
“Good job Morris.” I saluted the man as he lifted her from her knees and pushed her forward.
I’d need as many men like him as I could gather in the days to come.
No one will take our home.
No one will take our Haven.
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"Council is called for Oceanmonth, fifty-sixth cycle post-founding." I spoke strongly, and signed simultaneously. Serah, by my side, scribed testimony. "For the record, hospitality has already been established."
Most had brought bread and salt, as was human custom that had become popular and spread. The siltwalkers continued to insist on their own caviar, and they were lucky it was as delicious as they claimed.
"We begin by establishing pressing matters, of which three are submitted. Councillor Float?"
Float was tall, lithe, fit, and covered head to toe in soft, tongue-like scales. She spoke, and signed. "This councillor abdicates priority."
Of course. "Noted. Councillor Blood-I-Taste-Blood?"
He clicked his beak together, and his many-pincered claws signed that he also wished to abdicate the floor.
"... Abdication noted. That leaves Greenlake." Which, as a human matter, was assigned to me. "For the record: Greenlake is a human settlement, aligned with the Satterthwaite Kingdom. They have recently approached us regarding our advertisement of favourable food prices, with the additional request of temporary settlement within our walls."
"For further context," Councillor Float added. "The Satterthwaite Kingdom is in the midst of a famine."
"THEIR BONES ARE TRAPPED." Councillor Lox made the clarifying statement from beneath a protective pile of writhing leaves and shells. "THE PORTENTS WERE READ."
"They have little to offer." I said, trying to keep my voice from wavering. "Perhaps labour. Regardless, they have seen fit to raise the matter to this level, rather than a local one. Initial opinions?"
Blood-I-Taste-Blood indicated for me to speak first.
"I concur."
"THE HUMANS ARE HUMANS."
I held in a sigh. "They are crime-makers, and they ask for charity. This isn't the case of them being exiled, or forcefully moved, but voluntary arrival - do we want to set that precedent?"
It was an emotional appeal, because we were all first generation. Float was from a subculture of her people who were the victims of genocide for their sedentary lifestyles. Blood-I-Taste-Blood was from a religious movement of siltwalkers who revered the consumption of their eggs and infants, and praised survival of the fittest (only to be outcompeted by the pacifists). Lox was a necromancer and, worse, a druid. None had sympathy for those who had outlawed their existence.
And yet.
"I feel sympathy for them." Councillor Float let her tongues lick at the bread in front of her. "They were not officially abandoned, yes. But our city was built on tolerance, and liberty - the manner in which you phrase this suggests that we would make a decision to let them in. In truth, it would be a decision to keep them out."
Blood-I-Taste-Blood noted that, while he wouldn't mind an additional tax of gladiators, there would be no fun if they weren't fattened up first.
"THE ARRIVALS WERE CRUELTY." Lox looked out the window. "MY PHYLACTORIES DESIRE ACCEPTANCE. THEIR GROVELLING IS VICTORY."
"... Three in favour." And strongly in favour, judging by their body language. My double-weighted host-vote meant nothing, and it stung that I'd banked so much on it. I'd provided the documents beforehand. They'd read them. They knew my history, if tangentially. And they'd still chosen forgiveness. "I... abstain. Motion passed. I'll spread the news."
The rest of the meeting, while important, meant not much of anything to me.
---
The murmuring was loud enough to hear through the walls.
"Have you *seen* the monsters they employ? The dead roam! They eat babies! The land answers them!"
"We've got no *choice*. Unless you'd rather starve?"
"Rather that than be force-fed my eldest and made to fist-fight a ten-foot crab!"
I knocked. The chatter quieted down.
"Enter."
I did so, and took the three of them in. Hawthorne, my brother. Clay, a rabblerouser. Abigail. I was disappointed to see that none of them immediately recognised me, but the feeling was confusing, and I clamped it down. "Greenlake representatives. The Council has decided to approve your request-"
The tension exited them, and it annoyed me.
"-To be delegated to myself, as the human councillor." I reached into my pocket, and pulled out a salted roll to place on the table. "Break bread?"
They stared. The bread I'd brought was mouldy.
Abigail spoke, soft and gentle as I remembered. "... I don't understand."
"Partake." I cut back. "Let it not be said that I am not a host to Greenlake."
They tried to extract small, stale chunks from around the stained surface, and mostly succeeded.
"Right." Hawthorne took in a breath through gritted teeth. "Food, and shelter. That's all we want, Sir. We'll offer whatever it takes, for our people to survive."
"Seems you have those necessities right now." I felt the corner of my mouth twitch up, briefly. "But I suppose you want something more."
That sent a ripple of disquiet through them - I may have leaned too much into the tricksy sort of wording that shamblers loved to play with.
Clay clenched his fists, but didn't rise. "You've got a problem with us?"
"Yes." Hospitality mandated truth. "Clay. Hawthorne. Abigail."
At each name, they sat straighter in nervousness.
"Do you recognise me?" I gestured. Where they wore pale cotton robes, I was clad in the clothing of my new culture. Vibrant blues from siltwalker blood, and the clumsy stitching of the working dead that was worn with pride. Where they let their hair hang unbound, I had tied mine up into tongues. Where they had remained stagnant, I had grown free. "Perhaps you would recognise a name-"
"Charcoal?" Abigail whispered, shaking. "You're-"
"You son of a whore!" Clay stood with a shout, slamming both fists on the table. "I'll kill you! I'll-!"
"Clay." Hawthorne's voice had a power behind it that made the older man stumble. "Sit down. Shut up. Cool down."
There was a tense, beautiful moment where it felt like the air hummed with steel. Disappointingly, Clay did not give me the excuse to pop him like a balloon.
"How?" Abigail kept trying to meet my eyes. "You-"
"Your execution didn't stick." It didn't feel as satisfying as I'd hoped. "And from Clay's reaction, I can see that you still believe that I deserve one." Fat cunt. "I'd have thought you'd have realised that I couldn't have done it, by now."
Abigail and Hawthorne had varying reactions of guilt. Now *that* was interesting. The latter spoke up. "The true culprit has been-"
"You killed my goddamned brother." Clay hissed. "Couldn't have taken your sentence like a man. Had to go down swinging like a bitch."
"*Clay.*" Hawthorne's voice was tinted with a frighteningly cold edge. "... We tried to look for you, Charcoal."
"How long?" I asked, tilting my head. "And how long did it take you to start?"
"I was still looking." Abigail managed to croak out. I made a physical effort not to look at her, or gainsay her. "Please, Charcoal-"
"Took a month." Hawthorne said, quietly. "It happened again. Similar crime. It made us look back on your case with better eyes, when your previous accusations gave us a suspect."
Clay's nails ground against the table.
"You know?" I thought carefully, about the most incisive blow I could make. "It's legal here. Druidism. Like most things are." Some of them looked about to throw up. "Funny how you're willing to accept it when it's your skins on the line, instead of someone else's."
Clay stood, and stormed out the room, slamming the door behind him. Just Hawthorne and Abigail remained.
(Continued in replies.)
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j8jhdeu
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j8j237y
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[WP] You were kidnapped by a villain and he gloats about how you're bait for his arch-nemesis, and you'll be dead soon. You sigh and just look at him. "Buddy, its not that hero you need to worry about....its my wife." and he looks at you perplexed.
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I woke up slowly, steadily rising to my feet from the hard concrete floor. Looking at my surroundings, it was clear that I was being held somewhere in a villain’s lair. Bob Blood was probably the one given the color scheme
“Bob?” I called out, knowing that the microphones would pick me up, “what’s this about?”
“Oh good, you’re awake,” Bob gloated as a monitor slowly descended into view. “You’ll live just long enough to witness the end of Remedy!”
I sighed. “Look, Bob. I’m sure you have a great plan to finally finish Remedy off, but you should leave me out of it. If I’m not home for dinner, my wife will be furious.”
“Your wife? I didn’t know you were married, Hydration. Not that it matters. I’ll send her my condolences along with your ashes.”
Bob seemed bored, but I didn’t know what he expected. Remedy would have to drive to get here and Blood’s base was at least a 45 minute drive from The Ward. I supposed it was time to entertain him a little.
“Not many know about my marriage because I didn’t marry a hero or a villain like most in our line of work. Not that it matters. I suspect she’ll be here long before Remedy and definitely won’t be as kind.”
“You married a normie!” Bob laughed in disbelief. “What would I possibly have to fear from a normie? I’ll rip the blood from her veins like everyone else!”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “I didn’t say that. I just didn’t marry a hero or villain. In fact, you and my wife are acquainted,” I smiled as the wall behind Bob fell away. “You know her as The Contractor.”
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"**RICHARD!!! WHERE ARE YOU THIS INSTANT!?!"** my wife bellowed out, judging by the booming and earth-shattering volume of her voice at that instant, to say that she was livid wouldn't be too descriptive in detailing how furious she was at that moment. I looked at my old foe and said with caution, with a little hint of smugness,
"Well, seeing how we're both going to die . . . well, less likely me. The worst I'll probably get is a decapitated head . . . but, you of all people would know that I can just regenerate once my head attaches to my neck. But you . . . . oooh, you're fucked . . . you don't realize it yet. I don't know what she'll use to- . . . um . . . anally pierce you. But it's going to be unpleasant."
My age-old foe stared at me, a little bit puzzled before saying quietly,
"That's . . . graphic."
"Well, yeah. That's what she'll do for going after her man."
My foe stared at me in disbelief for a second before he replied quietly,
"Really?"
I shook my head up and down, answering his question. He first reacted to what I said with a look of horror until a mischievous smile appeared on his face and he responded to my answer with a smile laced with sadistic intent and said,
"After I kill you, maybe I'll go after your new wife and torture her to death."
Upon hearing his suggestion, I shook my head in denial and replied in my best attempt to sound like Kevin Conroy's Batman voice when he's trying to be intimidating,
"No, if you think I'm bad, my wife is worse. I would advise you to stay away from her. Plus, did you really understand what I JUST told you about her? You might as well leave the country, leave this world even, and adopt a new identity on some far-off planet in the most desolate galaxy in the whole entire universe. Because if you cross her . . . every breath you take, every move you make, even every bond you break, she'll be watching over you. Waiting for the day when she crushes the life out of her husband's killer. You'll never rest easy, you will always be paranoid that today will be the day of your reckoning."
I smiled devilishly after saying that. I don't normally use that voice unless I am trying to frighten a person. But I guess it worked because I could see his expression transition from a look of murderous excitement, then deflate into anxious worry. Then the farthest wall of this abandoned warehouse crumpled like a bunch of toy logs. And my . . . VERY pissed-off wife stood in the wreckage. The only feature I could see whenever she got even a little irritated was that her eyes irritated red a little. Well . . . if her eyes were like a dam holding back a certain amount of light. That dam crumbled and her eyes were basically like searchlights trained directly at my kidnapper.
He stared at me, and I stared back at him with a smug look on my face that told him,
"What'cha gonna do now?"
His voice quivered while he said,
"*I-I'm going to release you, and I'm going to tell *your* arch-nemesis that he can eat a bag of dicks since he didn't even mention your wife."
"Oh no, *buddy. You made your bed, you might as well get comfy in it."*
I then raised my hand up and said helplessly,
"*This bad guy kidnapped and took me to this place by force. He's a very bad man who tortured me while you were looking for me . . ."*
I don't know if I am a sadist or what, but the reason why I quit the superhero grind was that I just stopped getting the feeling, the rush, of being a superhero. It became the same thing, day in & day out. I just started doing other things, finding & getting married to my now wife . . . who also was far stronger and better than me in terms of being a superhero. I just decided to hang up my attire and become a househusband.
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jdw36xo
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jdw0z64
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[WP] The Elven Kingdoms call their old allies the Humans for aid. Expecting medieval armies, they get a modern 21st century one instead.
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"Corporal, what -- wait, what in the hell have you got there?" Captain Reese asked, looking from the red-faced Corporal to what he held in his hands.
"Squirrel, sir!" Corporal Greeley responded, breathlessly, holding up a small furry rodent.
Reese pinched the bridge of his nose. Greeley was somebody's nephew, he couldn't remember whose. Surely the leeway he'd been obliquely advised to extend the corporal by the higher-ups didn't extend to bursting into your CO's office unannounced holding a squirrel.
"I can see that, Greeley," he said through gritted teeth. "I want to know *why* you have it, and more importantly, why you brought it *in here."*
"He's got a message, sir. It sounded important, like it needed to go further up the chain of command. When I asked Sgt. Hayes, he said I should double-time it here and bring it straight to you, sir." Greeley replied, still catching his breath.
Captain Reese scowled. Hayes probably got the same unofficial memo that he had about Greeley, and decided to roll that shit right back up the hill.
Still, the fact that the Corporal was running around base holding what he claimed to be an important messenger squirrel would make it pretty hard for whoever his uncle was to get pissed off about a piss test. If that came back negative, it was a pretty clear-cut command directed mental health eval situation.
"And you...*heard* the squirrel give you this message, Corporal?" Captain Reese inquired, thinking it best to cover his ass and make sure no one could claim it was some kind of misunderstanding later.
"Yes sir!" Greeley said. "Here, sir, let me show you..."
"No, Greeley, don't--" Captain Reese began, too late to stop Greeley from setting the squirrel down atop his desk. The little rodent made a curious trilling sound, and sniffed at the empty bowl on Reese's desk that had previously contained some mixed nuts.
"Come on, tell the Captain what you told me, little guy." Greeley prompted, gently.
And then, the squirrel *did.*
"Greetings, human warrior!" the Squirrel, said, in a vaguely Scandinavian accent, as it straightened up to stand on its hind legs. "I, Ratatosk the Messenger, bring you tidings from Alfheim: the elves face an incursion by a dire foe from beyond the boughs of Yggdrasil! The elven seers bade me travel to Midgard, and seek out the sons of the eagle who dwell in Vinland, where the free and untamed spirit of the Ancient Northmen yet remains. Hear me, O grandchild of the North: the elves now call upon your ancient alliance!"
Captain Reese stared at the squirrel grimly for a moment. There was really only one thing to do, under circumstances like these. He looked back up at Greeley, and gave him an order.
/././././
Col. Briggs looked up from his desk as the door to his office was suddenly thrown open, and an unfamiliar enlisted man barged in.
"Corporal!" He snapped, reprovingly. "Just what the hell are you...is that a *squirrel?'*
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The elves have faded from the human world. Your writer, Tolkien, got that almost right.
Few are the humans that find the way to the lands of the Fay, and fewer return still. Tolkien was one of the only who had come, and returned, and come back again. For years he had wandered among the paths of the fae, and listened to our songs, and told stories of his own mind. Of the human world he talked little.
Not much we heard from him, but what we heard filled us with wonder, awe and dread in equal; for great are the minds of humans, and greater even their pride, and terrible is the wrath of Man if unleashed. And twice it was unleashed in his lifetime, and when he talked about it, his voice was silent and full of grief; and the silver star at his brow was dim.
But men are mortal, and after a time, he did not return, and no one wandered among us anymore.
But as the need drew dire and battle upon battle was lost, the High King consulted the Eldest, and spoke "In ancient time, Man and Elf stood side by side to battle their foes. So let us send a hundred messengers to the Kings and Queens and Princes of Mankind, for there are still ways to reach their world. Few may answer, but any ally in times of need shall be welcome."
And as the King said, so did our messenger ride forth, One hundred in number, their mail glistening under the stars. Lady Tinavirel rode at their front upon Ferloentil, a lord among horses, with sword at her side and bow on her back, and she held a Lance, crowned with a green banner; a mighty horn of bronze and gold was tied to her saddle.
Long were they gone, but after a time she, and some others returned. There was still awe, but also sorrow on her face.
"My lord", she spoke to the high king "Man has not changed since we left, but greatly have changed the realms of Man, and even greater their weapons.
"Few humans bow to kings and queens, but many of their grand realms elect their leaders. Grand are the realms indeed, and there are more men in many a city of them than elves in any of the one hundred and one kingdoms. Most of the realms have a little host of defenders, but hear me, my lord, fear the power of all but the tiniest of them, for even few armed men can be a force to reckon with.
"I could witness a fraction of the power of their hosts. No longer does man fight with spear and shield, and bow, and axe, and sword of iron. Even the lowliest soldier fights with a device that spews tiny metal pellets over many yards. No magic propels them, but some advanced alchemy, and they hit and kill and maim as sure as any sword. And many more similar but grander devices can bring forth fire and death upon miles and leagues.
"They fight in grand chariots of steel, faster than any horse could be, using a huge version the selfsame device; their steel can't be touched by the simpler weapons, so to destroy these chariots they wield terrible arrows of fire.
"And no longer do they cross the seas in longship and galley, for they sail in grand steel ships, which can spew forth death before the enemy can even see them.
"And they can fill the sky with some kind of steel dragons, which can inflict death in many other ways; and also can they bring a small host of humans to many a place. Truly has become Man a master of War in Man's World.
"Few are wars of Man and Man, but terrible to behold, and the humans said that they should be thought of as small. And as they said it, I saw their fear, for not even Man knows what Man can unleash. They spoke about a fire they possess, a fire they will not kindle, and when they spoke of it, a shadow fell. What this fire is, I know not"
And so the King answered "I thank you, my Lady. These news fill my heart with dread hope in equal measures. Now tell me, Have you talked with their leaders?"
And so she spoke "Few humans believed me at first; but the knowledge of the old pacts still runs in both our blood and the blood of Man. Strange are the minds of men, quick to dismiss the Knowledge of Elves at first, but inclined to believe if persuaded.
"I spoke to leaders of realms which once belonged to the tribes of Francs, and Saxons, and Britons; and the realms of the old kings of the Vikings, and many more. I spoke to the leaders of realms where once the grand empire of Rome was. And I even talked with leaders of a mighry realm beyond the grand sunset sea, which many a human said was the most potent at waging war.
"They have talked, and have agreed to help us. Though as humans are, a trade has been proposed.
"They shall support us with their hosts and arms. But Man desires one thing foremost; and it is knowledge. They have requested us to teach them the ancient secrets of magic, and they shall teach us their ways."
So the King bowed his head, and said "Great is the price, but greater the need; and great the reward if we can learn from Man. So, go forth, my lady, and forge the ancient alliance anew. And bring the humans gifts, gifts of Art, and Song, and Beaty. So we shall swing the sword together"
And so she rode forth again, and returned at the front of a grand host of Man.
(Edit: part 2 in comment)
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jdw36xo
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jdw2pkw
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[WP] The Elven Kingdoms call their old allies the Humans for aid. Expecting medieval armies, they get a modern 21st century one instead.
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"Corporal, what -- wait, what in the hell have you got there?" Captain Reese asked, looking from the red-faced Corporal to what he held in his hands.
"Squirrel, sir!" Corporal Greeley responded, breathlessly, holding up a small furry rodent.
Reese pinched the bridge of his nose. Greeley was somebody's nephew, he couldn't remember whose. Surely the leeway he'd been obliquely advised to extend the corporal by the higher-ups didn't extend to bursting into your CO's office unannounced holding a squirrel.
"I can see that, Greeley," he said through gritted teeth. "I want to know *why* you have it, and more importantly, why you brought it *in here."*
"He's got a message, sir. It sounded important, like it needed to go further up the chain of command. When I asked Sgt. Hayes, he said I should double-time it here and bring it straight to you, sir." Greeley replied, still catching his breath.
Captain Reese scowled. Hayes probably got the same unofficial memo that he had about Greeley, and decided to roll that shit right back up the hill.
Still, the fact that the Corporal was running around base holding what he claimed to be an important messenger squirrel would make it pretty hard for whoever his uncle was to get pissed off about a piss test. If that came back negative, it was a pretty clear-cut command directed mental health eval situation.
"And you...*heard* the squirrel give you this message, Corporal?" Captain Reese inquired, thinking it best to cover his ass and make sure no one could claim it was some kind of misunderstanding later.
"Yes sir!" Greeley said. "Here, sir, let me show you..."
"No, Greeley, don't--" Captain Reese began, too late to stop Greeley from setting the squirrel down atop his desk. The little rodent made a curious trilling sound, and sniffed at the empty bowl on Reese's desk that had previously contained some mixed nuts.
"Come on, tell the Captain what you told me, little guy." Greeley prompted, gently.
And then, the squirrel *did.*
"Greetings, human warrior!" the Squirrel, said, in a vaguely Scandinavian accent, as it straightened up to stand on its hind legs. "I, Ratatosk the Messenger, bring you tidings from Alfheim: the elves face an incursion by a dire foe from beyond the boughs of Yggdrasil! The elven seers bade me travel to Midgard, and seek out the sons of the eagle who dwell in Vinland, where the free and untamed spirit of the Ancient Northmen yet remains. Hear me, O grandchild of the North: the elves now call upon your ancient alliance!"
Captain Reese stared at the squirrel grimly for a moment. There was really only one thing to do, under circumstances like these. He looked back up at Greeley, and gave him an order.
/././././
Col. Briggs looked up from his desk as the door to his office was suddenly thrown open, and an unfamiliar enlisted man barged in.
"Corporal!" He snapped, reprovingly. "Just what the hell are you...is that a *squirrel?'*
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Come forth, children. I feel my time is near, let me tell you one last story. No, young Ez-hel. 'tis not time for jest. Today is a special day, and I shall tell you of the Cataclysm. On this day, nearly three hundred years ago, our kind has seen the face of it's doom, and nearly succumbed to it. It surely would happen, if not for three brave, and foolish young elves...
In the times of yore, before my time, before written word was bestowed upon us, all the races lived on a single plane, on the Seed World. We shared our land with all manner of folk and beast, young lived and eternal, skin both white like porcelain, and green as leaves in spring... Among them, were a peculiar breed. They who called themselves human. We called them, the Soulful Ones, for whatever they did in their short lives, they dedicated their entire beings into it. Before Gods split us into our own worlds, the king of Humans and our beloved Queen had struck a pact. Should any ill fate befall either race, the other will be called upon to aid within their ability.
For the longest time after the Split, not once have we considered using this pact. With our magics, and our kind spirit, we ruled undivided... until the fateful day.
It is a miracle in it's own merit, that we had survived the first strike of the Cataclysm. The greenskins had found their way through the Threshold, and poured into our world, with a bloodlust unseen before. We were utterly unprepared. Our victories, only in ambush, the tide merely ever slowed down, not once stopped, and turning it back seemed impossible.
Beneath the palace, in the ancient city of Teva-In, house to the Queen's descendants, laid the Cornerstone. Old priest tried to convince the Prince to use it, to call for aid, but he was too stubborn, too proud. So the Priest took a small group from within the Palace Guard, led them to the Cornerstone, and with an forgotten magick opened a path to the Realm of Man, where the Soulful ones resided. Only three managed to pass, before Prince's loyal guards had stormed into the chamber, and closed the Threshold. Of the three, only one could still walk. And so he ventured out of the cave they found themselves in, leaving his friends behind, to wait, heal, and guard the Cornerstone.
Lone hero wandered for hours upon hours, until they turned into days, and until he found a human settlement. He tried to talk, but they did not understand. As the hero tried to invoke the ancient treaty, he succumbed to fatigue.
When he woke, he saw men. Many men. Men in white and green gowns, not unlike those worn by healers back home. Men in black, silent, ever watching. Men in blue, and men in green, in equal parts nervous and curious. The hero tried to speak, yet noone understood. And hope for help - dwindled.
At last, they brought to the hero a human, dressed in orange and blue, with fiery hair braid, and fiery eyes, one, who in typical Soulful manner was determined to understand. And eventually, she did. She found a way to speak, and she found the treaty. She found hope for the Hero. When time came to talk to men clad in green and men of iron gaze, the Hero asked for help. For swords and spears, for armored knights who would counter the avalanche of beastmen and orks. He led the men in green and the fiery woman to the Cornerstone, and shown them the Threshold. And there he learned, that he was too late. That the Ancient City was besieged.
It took three days and three nights for the human to deliberate, until they sent forth the message past the Threshold. Thousand men immediately, and tenfold a much in coming week, they said, honoring the treaty. What were ten thousand, against a sea of enemy? Yet the Hero was thankful, for he did fulfill his mission, and did not return empty handed.
And so, in the end of days, in the darkest hour, our race, and Soulful Ones met again. Mindful of the stories, we hoped to see them shed light on our future, if only to let us escape certain doom, into embrace of their world, shall all else fail. And shed light they did. Their weapons did, with a bright flash and thunder, and with each one, an enemy fell. Humans did the unthinkble. They stalled the assault, and soon broke the siege. They struck the enemy at range unobtainable for any bow. They moved as one, fought as one, and they acted as if they had one mind. When they brought the war engines, ground trembled, and air howled in agony, yet it yelded to the insurmountable will of the Human, who poured his entire essence into perfecting one skill, and one skill only - to operate it. The Warrior Caste of humans had dedicated their entire lives to warfare, on a level unobtainable to us, the greenskins, the beastmen, nor even to Gods, I suppose. In the flame of war, in flash and thunderous sound of their weapons, the Humans... The Human kind brought salvation. And seeing how helpless we were, they decided we need them. And we still pay the price for it. In humiliation of training. In pain of love and loss. In sorrow over greatness lost.
How do I know this story?
Simple. I was the fool who brought them here. And the picture over the fireplace, is the fiery-haired woman who made them understand me.
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js2yzq1
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js2sfh6
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[WP] Before an engagement, the commanding officer ends his speech with “make your ancestors proud”. A subordinate responds “Sir! I’m not proud of my ancestors, can I borrow someone else’s”?
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"For your families!" the general cried out, sword raised high above his head, "For your loved ones! Make your ancestors proud, I say! Fight-"
"Sir?" a voice interrupted him. It came from the small group of dishevelled soldiers he was trying to encourage; the same group that was likely to die in the battle ahead, the one last hoorah in a losing war.
"Yes, soldier?" the general replied. He wouldn't normally entertain interruptions, but given the state the lads were in... seemed like a courtesy.
"I don't really want to make my ancestors proud," the voice continued, soon revealing itself to be a young man that pushed his way to the front of the crowd.
"Nonsense, soldier! We're all proud of our forebears - the least we can do is make-"
"Sorry, sir," the soldier rudely interrupted. "Not me."
"You're not proud of your ancestors?"
"No, sir. Fuck 'em, sir," the lad shrugged.
"Fight for your family then?" the general suggested.
"Only child, never married."
"Your country?"
"I'm an immigrant."
"Uh..." the general rubbed his chin, "how about..."
"General?" another voice, older, more gruffed, called out from behind, "I can lend him some of my ancestors."
"What'd they do?" the young soldier asked.
"Fought in every major war in the last 6 generations. Won medals in each one," the veteran replied and proudly pointed at the star on his chest. "*I* already honoured them; see? Think *you* can do the same?"
"How would I even borrow your ancestors?" the soldier asked. The veteran opened his mouth to reply, but found no words, no answer.
"Soldier," the general continued, "what do you fight for?"
"Money, sir," the lad replied matter-of-factly. "And murder. Two things I enjoy," he smiled.
"Then... fight, uh, for a bonus?"
"A bonus, sir?" the lad asked with far more vigour than he had any right to.
"10 shillings for each enemy soldier you kill. *If* you *survive*, of course."
A sly grin spread across the soldier's face as he straightened his back and cracked his neck loudly; then, picking up a second sword from a nearby soldier, kicked open the door and rushed to meet the enemies. By the time he felled three, he bellowed an inspiring battlecry.
"DO YOU FUCKERS HAVE *ANY* IDEA HOW MUCH YOU'RE WORTH?"
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The bunker erupted with cheers and determined grunting. Everyone seemed ready to fight the enemy one last time, everyone except for Private Smith, who nervously raised his hand to say:
“Sir! I’m not proud of my ancestors, can I borrow someone else’s?”
The room fell quiet in an instant. Every other soldier glanced at the Private with a puzzled look, and a few even started nodding, almost like they felt the same way.
Sergeant Murph facepalmed. The morale he just raised had been shattered in an instant. There wasn't time for this. The enemy was on their doorstep. Unfortunately, he couldn't ignore it either. They were already at a huge disadvantage and going into battle without a winning mindset would doom them. Sergeant Murph cleared his throat before saying:
"Your ancestors may have done some regrettable things, but this is war. You need that capacity for cruelty if you want to survive."
"That's... not... the problem."
Sergeant Murph raised an eyebrow. "Then what is?"
"My ancestors never did anything remarkable, good or bad."
"Private, we both know that's impossible. There has to be *something* noteworthy about them."
Private Smith shook his head, despondent.
"Really?" said Sergeant Murph. "Nothing at all?"
"N-nope. At least, not in a way that would be useful now. Sorry..."
A bunch of other soldiers began to reflect on their own ancestry, which didn't help the mood. One of them, Private Carlson, stepped forward and said:
"Sir, I'm confused! My ancestors mostly pillaged and raped. Do you want me to take our enemy's corpses and-"
"No!" interjected Sergeant Murph. "Holy shit, soldier. What the hell? We're not Russian."
"Actually..." said Private Petrov. "I had the same question..."
"Me too..." said Private Han. "There's probably some Mongolian blood in me."
Sergeant Murph hung his head. He was starting to regret his choice of words.
"What if I initiate people into my tribe?" said Private Howahkan. "We were strong warriors, but we never went *too* far."
Sergeant Murph squinted, thinking that was ridiculous, but a lot of soldiers seemed thrilled by the idea, mumbling along in agreement.
An explosion rung in the background. The enemy was closer than ever.
"Fuck!" shouted Sergeant Murph. "We don't have time for this nonsense!"
The soldiers didn't listen. Instead, they kept deliberating on the logistics of how to borrow someone's ancestors.
"How long would they be our ancestors?" asked Private Rivera. "Like, do we *have* to keep being part of the culture or would it just be for this battle?"
"I'm not a Rabbi," said Private Lewinsky, "but I think-"
"Stop it!" said Sergeant Murph. "We are not converting or initiating anyone! In fact, forget I said anything! We need to fight, *now*!"
"That's not fair," said Private Smith. "You brought up ancestry, and now you're saying it doesn't matter?"
Sergeant Murph felt a vein throb in his forehead. He was running out of patience. "I don't care about your shame! The fact is, you're all here now thanks to their actions! Are none of you glad you're alive?"
The room stayed quiet.
"Goddamn it," said Sergeant Murph. They might have well just lost the battle. Why was everyone so depressed? "Listen up, soldiers! We have a duty to survive. Not just for ourselves; for our loved ones as well. Maybe you're not proud of your ancestors, but what about your descendants? Don't you want them to be proud of you? This is the time to change that! This is the time build your legacy, so survive! Your ancestors did it, and so can you! Now fight!"
"Sir, yes, sir!" cheered all the soldiers in unison.
Sergeant Murph swelled with pride. Even Private Smith seemed empowered by the speech. He walked up to the sergeant and said:
"Thank you, sir. You reminded me of what's important. I think I can now make my ancestors proud."
"Good job, soldier. Now give 'em hell!"
The battle, however, didn't go well.
Nobody survived.
Nobody except for Private Smith, who hid in a corner at the first sign trouble. His family had a long history of cowardice, fleeing and hiding whenever things got too dangerous. He had never been proud of that, choosing to enlist in the military to prove himself, but, after hearing the Sergeant talk about survival, he slowly realized they had been wise all along. From then on, Private Smith would never be ashamed of his ancestry, living a long and fruitful life as the lone survivor of the battle.
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>If you enjoyed this, check out my other stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading!
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jwmk1pk
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jwmgck8
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[WP] You partner in crime has pulled a gun on you. "The truth is, the game was rigged from the start." You know that very well, mostly because you did all the rigging.
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"The truth is, the game was rigged from the start!"
Said my traitorous teammate, bellowing from his heart.
"The money is mine, you were just in my way"
My mouth stays shut, not a word I will say.
He takes a step forward as I throw him my gun,
He puffs his chest out, knowing he has won.
I get on my knees, hands behind my head.
If he sees me move, I will surely be dead.
But it doesn't take long for his smile to fade,
He finally sees this plan I have made.
He was given an offer he couldn't refuse.
His guaranteed safety from the executioner's noose.
But his naive nature led to his fail,
The agreement letter sent by a fake email.
The police burst down the door, seeing not a team,
But a hostage and criminal at a crime scene.
The game was rigged, yes, but what he didn't see,
Was that the game was rigged, not by him, but by me.
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"Woah, woah, woah!" I blurt out, raising my hands into the air as quickly and cleanly as I can. Fortunately I was only carrying a small box of valuables that won't break from simply being dropped. Or is that unfortunately? Perhaps if the box had broken, I could have used the spillings as a distraction or a trip hazard... heh, imagine that. Zack's reflexes are faster than that and I'd take a bullet through the skull. You can't do stuff like that as you see it done in the movies; the movies aren't real.
Zack smiles with a big grin. A big, cocky grin that I'd become so used to seeing as a good omen. This is the first time I have to register it as bad. The mental dissonance pains me. "Giving up already? Or are you thinking of a way out? I want to see you squirm."
I mentally begin to tune out the useless parts of his monologue - didn't I just say that the movies aren't real? - as I notice the other pair of our group of four step into the metaphorical frame, guns also drawn on me. To one side of Zack, his girlfriend, Laura, and to the other side, my boyfriend, who only ever told me his name. Allegedly, of course. Telling the person you love the identity you're trying to hide is a mistake made by the bad guys in the movies - and, of course, the movies aren't real.
"So here's what you're gonna do," Zack demands of me, finally getting to the point. "We're gonna load these back onto the truck, and you're going to eat our exhaust fumes as we drive off without you. Do that, and *maybe* I won't put a-"
His words are cut off as the crack of guns going off fills the air. I reflexively flinch away from the loudest sound, but that's hard to do properly when the sound is coming from every direction and you have tinnitus in one ear. Shame I had to flinch, too - I really wanted to see the look on Zack's face when this happened.
I step up to him and lean over his anguished lump of a form on the ground. By the looks of the bloodstains he's taken at least two bullets to his left leg and one to his right arm, and his gun is completely wrecked as well. Laura seems to have been more accurately hit, her upper arms are both completely red, even through her clothing. Spit from my direction just so happens to land on his face.
I look up at "My Boyfriend", who has dropped his gun and is now leaning back against the truck. I'm sure that if this were forty years ago, he's be smoking a cigarette, too. My gaze turns back to Zack. The wetness seems to have drawn his attention.
"Did I ever tell you that I was ex-military? Or that Leftenant Boyfriend over there isn't ex? Yeah. The game really was rigged from the start, you just tried to do something right before I would have done."
After all, it shouldn't come as a surprise that soldiers can actually aim. You cannot outrun bullets, especially not those fired by actual trained military personnel. As I've said, the movies aren't real.
Maybe my inside ops would make a nice movie, too. In two hundred years, anyway, assuming this story gets declassified at all. Hm. I'm going to need a completely new identity after this.
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j7np4lj
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j7n3e2o
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[WP] Your planet has finally achieved FTL travel and is being welcomed into the galactic community. However the species selected to guide your people through this process is a terrifying and warlike predator species called....humans.
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"I'm afraid I do not understand, Councilor, why did you choose the Humans for T'ren outreach?" The T'ren ambassador ducked it's head, "They were very open about their history, why you would the Council ever tolerate them in civilized society?"
Councilor Vrex chuckled. "It's true, the humans nearly wiped themselves out several times before first contact, and due to a misunderstanding, waged war on five member races simultaneously for nearly fifty cycles before an accord could be reached." It's smile bordered on predatory, conflicting with it's relaxed body language.
"That being said, those five members no longer exist, as they violated Council law by forcibly acquiring member states for profit. Therefore, we allowed the humans to, follow through, as they say."
The T'ren recoiled in horror, "They exterminated them? How can you permit such a thing? It's insane, immoral!"
Vrex loomed over the ambassador, "It is not however, inhuman. They serve as a wonderful example for both those that join the Galactic Council and those that choose to go it alone. Do not violate Council law, do not invade Council worlds, do not enslave Council races.
If you do? We let the humans have you."
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"Welcome! Welcome to the galactic community! The gift basket is on its way."
Shortly after captain Sarah's transmission, a giant woven gift basket made its way from the Earther's ship to the Flutia ship. The Flutians were concerned.
"Captain, a large assemblage of carbon is coming our way. It's concealing a shipping crate, scanners cannot penetrate!"
The Flutian science officer's antennae twitched with concern, and captain Jhhhq responded.
"It's alright, Sart. This was on the itinerary. There's some helpful gadgets inside, galaxy maps, databases, and manually-made art. It would be an insult to reject it. Bring it to Cargo Bay 7."
"Yes, Sir!"
The Humans replied.
"No, let me talk to them! No, let me! Stop! Stop pressing the button! You'll get your chance!"
There was a pause in the transmission.
"My sincerest apologies, captain. My children are onboard, they want to be like Mom someday, contacting new species, exploring the stars."
The Captain of the Flutian ship expressed concern.
"Captain, you have children with you, on your ship?"
A pause.
"Yes, it is somewhat common, and your concern is perfectly understandable. Space travel for my species is now well-understood, but was not always. Our early days of systems failures, slamming into planets, and other troubles are long since solved. We have quad redundancy on all systems, advanced scanning techniques, and quality materials science. Accidents, and mistakes, just don't happen often anymore. We had the same issue with early atmospheric flight, as well."
Captain Jhhhq responded.
"We see. Thank you for welcoming us into this community. Tell us, does your gift basket contain any helpful knowledge in the areas you have discussed?"
"Yes, it does. It contains all but the most recent of our research. We give this away freely to avoid the catastrophes we've encountered on joining the galactic community. Our first ships were so slow, it took over one hundred years before we made first contact. Other species didn't know we existed!"
"I am sorry to hear that, captain Sarah."
"It's alright, captain Jhhhq. We quickly surpassed many species in tech prowess, and now sell it to them for a large profit. Also, check the gift basket, our un-sanitized historical database is one of the many included. Please be advised that our species has not always acted in the best manner possible. We do hope, and they want me to say this, that you see this as a gesture of goodwill and not an excuse to stop all contact or start a war."
"Captain Sarah. Our species just recovered from a devastating global conflict only 150 years ago. We know it all too well. Some species have never had to cope with scarcity, or the evolutionary pressures of it. Our species is closer to yours than you imagine."
"Excellent, some common ground. Well, I'm off to go scan some nebulae, captain. Our respective species have known each other for a few years now, and this is just a formality, however it would be my pleasure to talk with you more, at the galactic symposium."
"I would enjoy that very much, captain Sarah. Closing communications."
"Closing."
Captain Jhhhq started a shipwide announcement.
"We've just received the gifts of our welcoming species. We will scan it for hazards, then I welcome all to attend the official opening in Cargo Bay 7."
This would be the crew's first gift basket, and the stories of treasures given by various species are legendary, from a scientific perspective. They would enjoy this immensely.
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[WP] As one of Zeus bastard children, you are doomed to be targeted by Hera, however you found a way to get on the queens good side before she found out who your father is.
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{Please be kind this is my first WP response and I haven't written a story in probably a decade lol. I worked off the idea that hurt people hurt people}
--
"Men ain't shit, huh?" the young woman said, looking down at the lady sitting on the back steps. “Certainly not that one, am I right?”
The older woman looked up at her, lividity and bitterness painted around her eyes. She seemed curled in on herself, wounded and worried, not with weakness like prey but with the burning hunger of a predator who had not been fed in a very long time.
Leda slipped a packet of 'Mr. Mossy's Migh-T-Fine Pre-Rolls' from her pocket, slid one between her long dark fingers. She lit it up with a deep breath, sat down then leaned over and silently handed it to her companion. The other woman swept the silver and black fringe out of her face, wiping off a tear from her bright red cheek and took the J in her fingers gracefully.
They sat like that for a few minutes quietly passing the lit pre-roll back and forth. The sounds of the club behind them and the distant passing cars mingled together into one dull brown noise. The cool October breeze drifted across the parking lot bringing the occasional smell of greasy fries and gasoline exhaust. Little blowing bits of dirt and dust tumbled into Leda’s golden brown halo of tight curls which framed the woman’s round face, honey eyes and wide nose.
Leda sat still, *really still*. Leda had learned a long time ago just how to sit still with the wounded and hurtful women in her life. She was always careful not to push too hard on the hairline trigger of space between herself and them. She could feel the heat and energy burning off the woman on the stoop. She could almost taste the smoke from the slow and steady burn that had been churning in this one for a long time.
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(This is my first, and a nice exercise for my english, so please be patient. Also, disclaimer, I like Percy Jackson. Anyway, here it goes).
\[1\]
I have read Percy Jackson. Hera was NOT that pacific. I heard of stuff about my paternal siblings that weren't storybook worthy, but were as gruesome as a stepfather coming home to his wife and step-kid impaled and disfigured by a pole made of metal with a letter written 'I didn't have a spear xoxo'. Or a kid that had their arms swapped with the legs and mouth stitched with a huge H burnt on their forehead.
I always had a feeling about who my father was. I couldn't be electrocuted by normal means, I could fly (more like falling in style) and I could blow winds if I wanted. Also I saw some tree spirits saying "Oh, he is just like Heracles! Not as powerful, though".
I don't think my mother knew that my father was Zeus. I knew her because I wanted to check who abandoned me in front of the church. Ironic, being the son of a god who was only recently famous because of the previously mentioned book series. I disliked them. It showed a Zeus who was a nice father to his children born out of wedlock. For me was if Zeus himself wanted me gone. Twice a lightning bolt cut the power of the church, moments after I felt it coming to shock my butt.
For this (and for incapacitating the nun who I treated as my mother), I decided that it was enough. Obviously I couldn't fight a god like in the olden days, and I knew shit about Greek mythology to check if gods had any weaknesses, but I had the internet by my side.
I looked around and found about a woman who hunted children like me. The goddess of family herself, Hera. I was her nemesis, and she (hopefully) didn't even knew about me. But as I looked around my school computer, I found an ad saying: 'Is your father a divine being married to the goddess Hera? Click here!'. Algorithms tracked my Greek search history and placed this ad to me, obviously, but it was so... I can't describe the feeling... It was made for me as a hole in the wall in that Junji Ito manga.
It wouldn't hurt to click. A virus at most, but…
It was the most atrocious website I have ever seen. Full of colors and hyperlinks here and there, but at the bottom right corner was a button 'I dislike Percy Jackson'. Maybe to avoid fans of the series? Maybe because demigods in real life never lived adventurous lives as the books suggested? Anyway, after I clicked the screen went black and the words 'Stay there. We are coming' appeared in white. Not ominous at all.
What the f\*ck happened here? Who was after me? I need to run. I unplug the computer and ran to the school gates. A black minivan stopped by the gates. A tall muscular woman came out of the drivers seat. I slowed down and pretended I was just heading home while avoiding eye contact, before I heard someone shout "That's him!".
Shit shit shit shit. The woman materialized in front of me and told me to get in the van like she was Hulk or something. I obliged. She was 2 meters tall and, while I could hold my own in a fight, she would crush me with her pinky. Inside I saw a skinny boy, about my age, that looked like he came out of a nerdy sitcom. He was the poster boy for the world Nerd. Big round glasses, messy brown hair and white as snow. His friend, the female Hulk, was just like the superhero, but more feminine looking and her skin was tan. Her black hair was tied in a neat ponytail, so I couldn't measure the length.
— Welcome, child of Aphrodite! — said the boy. — My name is Jim, and this is Silvia! What's your name?
— John... — I said, reluctantly. — What is going on? Aphrodite?
— Yeah, you clicked my awesomely made website to meet others like us. But I really struggle with CSS. Hopefully you can help me with some stuff, but I thought you were going to be… I don’t know, a little more hot?
— He is hot enough, — said Silvia, finally.
— I am not Aphrodite’s. Don’t worry, no offense taken.
— Wait… No, you’re Aphrodite, the ad said so.
— The ad said Zeus.
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mbmnuji
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mbmjt94
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[WP] You're a 50+ year old woman who has found the cure for wrinkles, and you've just evaded the tenth attempt on your life by a dermatologist.
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There was banging at the door. Begrudgingly, I stood and went to open it. Before my hand even touched the knob, it clicked and swung open of its own accord, revealing a young woman staring wide eyed at her preemptive successful break in… and then seeing me.
“P-please,” she shuddered from the wintry cold. “Don’t let them take me.”
I could hear the shouts and screams as the Inquisition went from door to door, routing other heretics into the streets for the worshiping of Demonica Harmonica, the now declared pagan goddess of the underworld. I gestured with my head for her to get inside, then stumbled outside with my wine in hand.
“Oi!” I yelled. “I seen a witch!”
Immediately, I was surrounded by Inquisitors who demanded the witch’s location.
“Aye, she been heading off to the rapids,” I pointed. “Make haste else she steals a boat and be out to spread more lies of her pagan god.”
As if I were their leader, the Inquisitors made off like an army receiving their orders. I fell back to the floor and drank a bit of the wine before going back inside and sitting inside.
“They’ll kill you for lying to them,” the girl said matter of factly.
“Bah! I’ve been around these lands since before your goddess was brought into existence,” I grinned. “Now, let me show you the tunnel that will get you out of this country and back to your goddess.”
“Might I bless you before I depart?” She asked.
“You can bless me by telling your old bat Yggs says to come visit him,” I replied.
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*"P-please. Don't let them take me..." A witch, a young girl pleaded as she hides in your shed. You see the fear in her eyes as you hear the armored footsteps of the inquisition approached your home. Your heart thumps. They don't take heretics lightly nor one that shields them from their hold.*
I focused my mind and, with a frown, broke the mental connection with the youngster in front of me. The man shuddered as the two of us came back to the real world from his memories.
"Please remain in your seat for now, sir," I said gently. "Take deep breaths. You may feel dizzy for a minute or two. Trust me; I know how disorienting it can be."
"What are you going to do to her?" He asked suddenly, almost rudely.
He had heard the horror stories, I recalled, and read the conspiracy theories online. How the Inquisition tracked down witches, secretly experimented on them, inhumane practices, or worse. He fancied himself a man of honor, of integrity, that he could be a hero for some poor girl and rescue them from the evil shadowy organization.
I relaxed.
"Sir, let me assure you that nothing untoward will happen." I gave him a disarming smile. "In fact, I will tell you a small piece of the truth."
I made a gesture with my hands.
"You see, sir, I am myself a wizard - male magic users are wizards, and females are known as witches - and we live in a society mostly separated from the low-magical population on Earth.
"Yes, sir, you also have magic. Every living creature on earth, from the smallest bug to the mammoth invisible sky fishes, have some degrees of magic in them. You just don't have enough to use it. That will be important later.
"Now, from time to time, there will be magic users born from low-magical parents. Rare in the past, but increasing at a rather alarming rate in the past two decades. The exact mechanism is still poorly understood and being studied by our biologists. Regardless, what that means is that more and more witches and wizards are appearing, and they don't know or understand their powers. And untrained, uncontrolled magic can be quite dangerous. Especially in children - for a reason.
"You see, magical children need to absorb magic from their environment, just like we all need to breathe air. That is fine in the more magically established parts of the world, where we live; not so good in the low-magical parts of the world where you are. What happens then, is that they will absorb the meagre ambient magic from the people around them. It will create both a magical imbalance in them, and a loss of magic that can become a fatal condition for you and other low-magical creatures.
"And thus the Inquisition is founded. We pretend to be religious fanatics as a cover. We track down these young witches and wizards, fix whatever damage they might have done, and take them back so we can raise them properly.
"Now you may wonder why I am telling you these. I have two reasons. One, I have a spell that can render you incapable of telling others. This spell works best if you give your consent.
"Second, and more importantly - this city has the highest birth rate of new magic users in the past six years. I have been here seventeen times in the last two years. This is highly unusual and we can use more help, someone to serve as a spotter, alerting us quicker if they notice a magical incident in progress. And I think, sir, that you may just be that person.
"You are young, inquisitive, and know this city well, having lived here most of your life. You have already been involved in one incident. You have kindness and a willingness to help people, to do good. I think, with some training, you can be a good field agent for the Inquisition."
I smiled broadly as I saw the excitement in his eyes.
"So, what do you say, to that flighty temptress, adventure?"
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ll7jrst
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l4yy516
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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.
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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.
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"Mr. President, we shall not allow the war to end unless you appease us with a political marriage."
"Well, high councilman Vrog, I guess we're going to have to continue kicking your ass. We don't do that anymore."
"Whatever do you mean, Mr. President? It is the way of the universe."
"Not our way. Hasn't been for a long time. The last member of the British royal family died at the ripe old age of one-hundred six. He had no surviving family members. He died three-hundred years ago."
"Mr. President, I understand that you wish to end this war. This is what we will accept. Send a member of a royal family to marry my son, and we shall then talk about peace."
"I don't know if that translucent head of yours is thick or thin, but what about "That's not our way" don't you understand? Here's what will happen. If you don't just up and sign the armistice, we will continue to destroy your fleets. Earth is heavily guarded as you know. Our shield worlds do a lot to annihilate your fleets. You have done nothing to us anyway. The Silvalek. The Hektars. Even the damn Ambarians. Every single one of our extraterrestrial allies knows our ways and accepts our way of thinking. They also fight like hell alongside us. Sure, we also make concessions to them. But if you want to end the war, you're going to have to think of a way to come to an agreement that works for BOTH of us. Not just you. We don't do political marriages anymore. Either sign the agreement or the next time we meet, it will be face to face with a ray shield jail cell door between you and me. And you'll be in it as a political prisoner while we strip your homeworld of its able bodied citizens with our guns."
"Then I suppose we shall continue the war. We are at an impasse. It is unfortunate. The deaths of my citizens shall be on your conscience, Mr. President."
"Do you hear yourself? You're the one sending them to die. Sign the armistice, and we will stop. That's all you have to do. Then YOU pull your men out. That's it. That's all."
"What a shameful existence you humans have. My son needs a wife and you dare defy my wishes? Goodbye, Mr. President. May your empire fail along with your politics."
"Says the one who's army is currently getting annihilated by mine. Do me a favor. Read the after action reports we intercept your generals sending back. It's pretty bleak."
The alien turns his nose up and cuts the feed. The President of The Earth-Ambar-Sylvallus-Twr'olo'k Federation sighed and slumped into his chair. He keys his mic to command his mechanized soldiers. "Begin orbital bombardment of the High Councilman Vrog's homeworld. Leave nothing alive."
Three days later, every Glokrian soldier pulls out. The shelling would end a day later after all the armies pulled back. High Councilman Vrog survived the bombardment, but was visibly shaken. No greeting. "Almost everyone on my planet is dead. Why would you do this?"
The president sat comfortably in his chair. "Because you lot destroyed one of our planets and left everyone dead. We pay our debts. Tell me something, Vrog. Does your son still need a wife?"
"You bastard. My son is dead because of what you did to my planet!"
"Now you know how every human and Silvalek who had relatives on Planet Zurkon felt. I hope this petty war of yours was worth it. It could've stopped if you just signed the armistice." The president heard in his ear piece that some mechanical soldiers found Councilman Vrog's chambers. The president gave the order to capture. Alive. He watched with a smile as the councilman was dragged away kicking and screaming.
When next the two talked it was face to face on a penal colony somewhere out by Betelgeuse. Vrog was forced to sign the armistice and forced to broadcast to his holdouts that the war was over. The E.A.S.T. Federation found a suitable planet in a new star system for the rest of the Glokrians to move to while the E.A.S.T. Federation assisted in the reconstruction of Vrog's homeworld. Ambarian Elvish solar and wind technology is the best in the galaxy. Silvalek are some of the greatest warriors and builders in the galaxy. Hektars, while also tenacious warriors and builders, are weirdly good with nuclear energy and agriculture. Humans are good at these things too, but they specialize in defense.
After a good long while, Vrog's homeworld was rebuilt. Vrog and his people moved back to their homeworld, and officially allied themselves with Humanity. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Vrog never forgot about what the humans had done to his world, or the indecency they had done him apparently, but his entire race benefitted heavily from being allied with the Federation. Trade routes, technological advancements, and access to more resources allowed them to quickly get back to the state they were before the war. But instead of being enemies, they became powerful allies of mankind and all the rest. In the end, it turned out well.
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mhq10zl
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mhpmdio
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[WP] There is a dungeon deemed "coughing baby easy", used by everyone to train rookies, test spells, and as a hangout spot for ordinary children. A roaming frenzied super monster from the MOST dangerous region just took one look at it, froze, became scarily aware of where it was, then fled.
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"So have you concluded your investigation on what caused that dragon to flee from the sapling dungeon?"
"Yes. I had to go back through centuries of history but I found it."
"And what did you find?"
"In short; it's a mimic."
"What."
"A mimic that used to live in the forest. There were first warnings about a chest, then a cupboard, then a hut, then a house before finally a cave. Centuries passed with warnings passed down about the danger of the cave that eats people being ignored and forgotten over time. Enough time passes and some curious child stumbles into what looks like a dungeon, comes out relatively unharmed and with some rudimentary fighting experience and here we are."
"And why doesn't it eat people anymore?"
"Yeah... So you know how there's those crocodiles that allow birds to peck insects and scraps from their teeth?"
"Don't tell me..."
"Yep, we're the birds."
"And the dragon?"
"Dinner."
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Consider the tale as a sequel to [This](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/s/2qsPhmjilx)
<->
The Maiden's Mine was a curious dungeon. It was considered to hold dangers like many before it, but almost none of it came from the beasts or traps that laid within. Slimes and burning lights were the only challenges here, but a child that could scarcely handle a blade could beat the former and a reflective metal or proper attention could handle the latter. Most considered the trip to the mine harder than actually attempting the dungeon, as the Blood Forest that the place resided in was not the safest place, but even that challenge paled in the comparison of what the place offered.
That is what the adventurer's guild of the nearby town knew, and the crystals that littered the interior meant they sent many groups out their to mine what they could.
Of course, they had investigated the dungeon many times to confirm its safety. Every time, the veterans confirmed the place was no real danger even if careless. *The slimes fall to a single strike, and the traps the crystals have are no stronger than a spark spell* was how the reports read.
So when news came of a dragon leading an army of it's own followers for a new home, and the desire to take the Maiden's Mine, the guild was understandably concerned as the mobilized their best to intercept.
<->
The slime guard stirred as its day began like any other, an hour before sun up as it used its Area Search. It had come to expect a routine of odd sorts come to its home for the dungeon's prizes: increases in mana, knowledge of combat, and the various precious crystals that laid below. Its task was to defend this status quo, and it did the job dutifully.
The scan gave no readings at first, implying a slow day, before the slime *felt* something it hadn't in a long time. It split to leave a copy for its task as it moved into the dungeon to receive a message from the Mine. The message came with what felt like an invisible container around the slime shattering as an immense spike in power came from the creature.
The slime's purpose was to protect the Maiden's Mine, and it was needed to fill this purpose once more. The slime moved with haste back to its normal post as it prepared to do its duty, it's form taking on a teal-green hue.
<->
The best the guild had to offer all assembled at the town's gates, ready to defend their home from the coming intruder. Mages with high-end staffs, warriors with armors of the finest metals, and rangers with the most devastating of arrows all stood ready to march as the guild leader briefed them on what could be their most dangerous mission yet.
But as the group moved to march, the dragon flew above as fast as it could, its legion nowhere to be seen. Suspicion of it changing target where all but immediately dispelled as the fear it radiated as it fled told a different story. Something had spooked it, scared it away.
For most gathered, their sentiment was of glee for preemptive victory, or mild annoyance they would not have their battle. But one archer looked and saw a different concern.
"Perhaps we should be thankful the Maiden likes us."
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lke6sjp
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lke3xth
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[WP] “So my mom is half-Fae, and my dad is half-dragon; that’s where my powers come from. How about you?” “I’m half-mermaid on my mom’s side, hence the wheelchair.” Your new magic school roommates suddenly turn to you. “What about you?”
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"Me?"
"Yes, you", Elenor the half-Fae replied.
"Well, my father's a warlock, and my mother, well..."
I felt my face getting red and started fidgeting. Gods above, why do I feel so embarrassed just talking about my parents?
"Go on..."
"I really don't want to say..."
Melody the half-mermaid piped up. "Well, you had to get your powers from *somewhere* - as far as I know, warlocks can't pass their abilities onto their children," she said.
"Well, aren't you the smart one," Elenor teased.
I gulped. Time to rip the band-aid off, I guess. "My mother's [the demon my father made a pact with](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1er8k01/wp_let_me_get_this_straight_your_patron_is_your/lhymzr5/)."
Both girls spent the next few seconds struggling to keep their laughter in. "I'm going to assume you're the firstborn?" Melody asked once she composed herself enough to speak.
"...yes."
"Well, that's one way to fulfill the bargain," Elenor remarked, still trying to keep herself together.
She then saw me glowing beet red and sighed. "If it makes you feel any better," she said, "your parents aren't the only ones who met that way."
"Really?"
"Yeah - I've heard similar stories from one of my aunts. Course, they don't always end up with children, but, you know..."
There was a moment of awkward silence before I said, "You know, that did make me feel a bit better."
"Well, good," Elenor replied. "Because stuff like this still blows my mind, no matter how often that happens!"
I groaned and buried my face in my hands. This is why I don't like talking about my parents.
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"What about you?" The dragon-fea-girl Tiffany said.
"Well, um it's a bit hard to explain." I said as my nervous hands start twisting the bottom of my t-shirt as this has been something I've never told my friends back home in the village. Mom and dad said they'd not understand.
"I mean, you look, you know, regular," Alice said from her wheelchair, "Not that it's weird, just, you know, not common."
I look at them both, Tiffany with her hair the colour of autumn leaves, bracelets of deep green scales up here arms. Alice, a viciously cute face that would one day turn into dangerous beauty, her fin that of a shark.
Then I think of how I must look to them.
Plain, human, regular.
"Well, I... My..." I start, then pause because I honestly don't know where to begin.
"You know what, it's ok, you can tell us when you..." Tiffany begins with a smile at seeing my consternation.
"No! Thank you, I want to, just, need to know where to begin." I say and Tiffany nods and jumps up to her part of our bunk bed.
"So, well, technically, I'm human. Like both my mum and dad are human. But. Well. They didn't know I was conceived for several months. I, well, I was their happy little accident. They say that with love though. It's just that. Back then they traveled, like a lot, they were adventurers. Umm, I just need a glass of water." I say and run the tap.
"So, they were adventurers, good ones too, they had this friend who was a really strong wizard. Hector. And well... They did a lot of dimensional travel together with him, which like , it affects a growing baby more than a fully grown human. So, like I'm fully Human. But I was probably conceived in a hell dimension? That or just before they went there depending on which time the... Ehh conceiving... Happened...
"And well, then they traveled to a dimension filled with chaos energy through an astral plane close to Death's domain and from there they had to flee from this demon and hide in a place outside regular time... That's about when they realised I was going along."
"Ohh, you weren't kidding about it being complicated. But like, when they realised they had you, they went back home didn't they?" Alice says giving me her full attention.
"They wanted to, but like, they couldn't. Too many looking for them on those paths see." I say.
"So, out with it, what happened next?" Tiffany said from above.
"Well, they were in this place outside regular time as I said, and they had to kinda, go deeper? So they went from there really far into the astral, like, where ancient eldritch gods go to die - far into the astral, and from there they could go around the people looking for them, by walking through through the shadow dimension into the realm of the eternal scream and then through another hell dimension." I count out on my fingers now.
"Well, then we finally are here, well, on this planet, and like a day later my mom had me." I finish.
"Was that all of it, nothing more happened?" Alice wonders.
"I mean, basically, yeah." I say, relieved that they look intrigued more than scared of me.
"So you are like full human and half-hellspawn, -chaosbeast, -astral... -astral" Tiffany started.
"Wraith, astral wraith" I fill in and then continue, "half-Astral wraith, - grim reaper, -time spectre, -eldritch entity, - shade, -bamshee, - another type of hellspawn... Oh, and almost forgot, I got bitten by a werelynx a while back but it turned out I was immune."
"You probably don't have any slots left to be half - lynx as well." Tiffany laughed and Alice joined in.
Hearing that laugh was balm to my very very mosaic soul.
"Yeah, probably." I laugh with them and they turn the discussion on to what subjects they are looking forward to most, Tiffany looking forward to spellwork and Alice to healing.
It's going to be a good year.
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mhfp9t9
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mhdp2up
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[WP] You are a patron deity that physically appears before your followers in order to reward them for loyal service. Usually, they like to fulfill their darkest desires, so you’re completely caught off guard when one of them asks to feel “the embrace of a parent.”
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I watched as my little follower approached the space we had agreed upon. I have done this many times with many loyal followers, telling them of a secluded space where I could manifest without worry, and we could speak without any illusion. It was a way to show my respect and appreciation, to be with them once more as the mortal I once was, not the god I now am. The young one had been a trembling figure when first I heard the prayers, but I have watched the transformation into a strong soul as he softly spoke the prayers, asking my presence.
There was no flashiness, no show. I was not appearing as a great deity, merely a mortal once again as I walked through the small trees nearby to sit at the bench where he was. "Hello my champion," I said softly as he looked at me, eyes shocked. "How are you doing?"
He was scared for a moment, I saw it as he hid under his cloak. I slowly walked and sat next to him, merely to wait until he was ready to talk to me. It was only a few minutes before he finally spoke up. "My... my name is Matthew. I... I want to thank you for being there for me."
"Of course, young Matthew. You have grown strong, into a wonderful young man. I am thankful to you as well for what you've done. You have protected people when I asked. I truly am grateful for your services."
"...Thank you, my lord. Can... can I ask a question before I ask of a reward?"
"Of course you may."
"What, what do I look like to you?" I paused as he asked, an eyebrow raised. It was not common I heard such questions. I only paused, truly perceiving my follower, perceiving beyond the soul and spirit as I usually did to see the physical body too. "I see your soul is strong as I always do, what was one frail and injured has grown strong, filling those cracks with burning light and fire. I see it reflected in your body, one that has healed from injuries. I see someone who I am proud to call my follower, my champion."
"Does... does your champion look like a re- a great man?" He said, and I paused, finally beginning to understand what the question was. The real question. I only could smile softly as I looked him in the eyes.
"Matthew, my champion. I see only before me a man that entire armies wish they could be a fraction of. I see the man I saw fighting the injuries when first you prayed to me, and now I see the same man who fought to protect others from the same injuries. That is what I see with my eyes."
"...Thank you...." I smiled to him as he softly shook. "Can I ask my reward now?"
"Of course you may," I said.
"You... you were there for me when my parents threw me away, when my friends left me to rot. Can... can I ask from you the hug that a parent should've given me?" I paused, before I thought on his words. "...I asked too m-"
He could not finish as I wrapped my arms around him, for the first time in a long time feeling a physical presence as I held him close. "My son, you never have to ask that as your reward. I will always give you a hug when you ask, and I will always tell you how proud of you I am. You are an amazing young man and your parents were fools to never see that."
If he cried in my arms for hours as I held him, that was my secret. And if I maybe thought too much on how to best smite the people who hurt him so, that was a secret I'd carry to my end.
|
In a small room strewn with pottery depicting strange scenes, silver coins of all nominations, chalices with meandering ornamentations, to marble statues of a man and a woman holding an arch with their arms covering the ceiling and spilling out into its peak.
There stood a chair of wood, its back chipped and charred, from under it spilled out darkness from the under the arch. It was lit by the only light coming from a small window opposite of the small room. On this throne sat a vaguely visible thing, not quite there, yet shimmering in a cloak of blue and purple. The thing’s head was opaque and yet drew the eyes of the two children standing in front of it.
The older child was supporting the smaller and weakly child with his right shoulder. Clutching her hand with his other. He looked straight at the thing and began to speak in a small voice.
“I have come to ask for a boon, city of mine.” faltering after the commonly known nicety, and looking to his care, frowning and looking back up. He continued: “I… I… did things for the soldiers on the market gate.”
“I helped them with getting arrows and bolts. I got them wine and got one of their dice when it fell down the stairs. I even threw a rock on the enemy, splattered her, I think.” his eyes fell to the floor recalling his deeds.
“*I was there, Pellas*” The thing said from three directions at once.
The boy recoiled from the strange sounds coming from the centre.
“*I was there on the battlements, I was there in the tower, I was there at the gates, I was there for every shot, every howl, and every cheer*” the thing continued. “*You and the other before you served and served well*” The thing barely moving said in a singular voice: “*Ask me your favour, your dream or your boon.*”
“Sir, city of mine” Pellas stumbling through, “Milise’s parents died and she’s alone now. And the Sergeant said you were an orphan cast out, so sir, city. Can you give her back her parents? You know it's hard for us out there”
“*You ask for another, not yourself, you ask for warmth, not cold calculated gain.*” The thing raised from its throne, a golf of warm air crept over the floor. “*Alas, Nimmus is wrong, I am no orphan. My parentage is that of cold rock, outcasts and strife.*” The thing stepped down from his small dias and crouched before the boy. The warmth was still there along with something bolder, stronger. Fresh and scented, there came another tithe of air from the figure robbed in blue and purple. “*You know that too, Pellas, but your request I cannot grant. It is the domain of far older and far stronger things than me.*”
The boy gathered his strength to look on the figure, trying to speak to it face to face. “City you can find something else, you’re a library and a university in you. You’re old and people say you're wise and that everything they ask comes true. They say you can give advice, give gold and riches.” The boy stood a bit straighter as he spoke, lifting his care a little as he did, nodding to her, he spoke again. “Surely there is someone to take care of her, something you can give her that is close enough to her parent to get her a home or a hearth. She won’t last long, the older boys are already looking at her all funny.” The boy was getting a fouler temper, a sharp pang of hatred came from somewhere in him.
The thing didn’t move. “*Pellas, levying me with things I cannot do and hurting over betrayal I have not met out is foolish.*”
The boy felt his cheeks reddening at being found out for his anger at adults. The shame froze over and made place for righteous outrage. “But if you can’t help…” he took a sharp breath. “There’s nothing to be… there isn’t fucking anyone!” The boy screamed the last words and began to get a feeling of exhaustion even he hadn’t experienced. The spiteful words rang out in the small room, filling it and then, slowly, dissipated.
As they did so, the boy felt calm yet weary. He gathered his charge and tried to turn around. But was stopped by, what felt like a hundred people laughing at a joke he’d missed or a song whose lyrics he did not understand crashing to an end.
“*Youth. My youngest, how frightfully self-righteous you are.*” the thing spoke as he touched the boy and his charge with his arms. “*I hereby grant your request. Go seek out those you want to her parents, and I shall have them obey.*”
The boy turned at the touch and was confused by the words. “No, I want her parents for her, not people you tell to feel for her.”
“*I granted your boon, as for the little one, she can ask her boon herself.*” the thing replied.
The little girl fluttered and began to stand. Tossing the boy's arm of her with strength that surprised her and frightened the boy a little too. “City of mine, I want my boon.” the girl spoke whilst the boy looked horrified at the wrong phrasing. The thing shrunk, or, crouched further to meet the girl face to face. “I want Pellas to have his parent back as well!”
“*Two have asked me to do things beyond my ken or could.*” the thing replied. “*Are we ever so clever when we are young. I shall not do a thing not done. But grant you some far too few know.*” the thing touched the boy and the little girl on their heads.
The room spun for them, their heads feeling light and foggy. As if struck by a raging tempest, they felt it. Love. The simplest love, the strongest love. The love of beauty and fairness and care and sacrifice. The room was empty as they sat embracing each other. Feeling not a thing more, and nothing less than love for one another.
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kw5lpih
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kw5dzxx
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[WP] America now follows other countries in requiring 1year mandatory service upon turning 18, except it is working retail instead of going to war. A young teen just started his draft where he would have to man the stations on Black Friday.
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The grizzled vet looked up at me, his one good eye bloodshot and watery. "I'm sorry kid." He looked over my shoulder now, remembering a distant place that still burned fresh in his mind. "You've pulled the BF-WM."
I looked at him, confused. "BF-WM? What's that?"
A fist slammed down on the table separating us. "This ain't the time to play games, kid. Not with where you're going. Best thing for you to do is wipe that doe-eyed look off your face and get wise. Get wise, real quick." The hand darted forward now, grabbing a hold of my wrist and yanking me closer. "You won't last a minute without your wits. Just like Jimmy. Poor fuckin' Jimmy. Right down in the first wave..."
He stalled off, looking into the distance again.
"Sir?" I asked.
"They just trampled right over 'em. Like he wasn't nothin'." A tear formed in the corner of his eye. "Shift manager sent him in there with a damn 'Welcome' sign. Might as well just shot him. Would have been the decent thing to do."
He went quiet again.
I tried to subtly move my arm away from his clutching grasp, which seemed to jolt him back to the present. Wild eyes fixed on mine. "I can still here the screams. Oh God, the screams. Jimmy's. Theirs. All tangled up and mangled together. Flailing and spitting. Tearing and grabbing." He swallowed and then looked down at the table, letting go of my hand and clasping his own together. "I should have gone for him. I should have...but...but what could I have done? They had seven OLED TV's priced at $99 and two hundred people trying to get them. What are two 'Assistant Customer Experience Specialists' going to do against that?"
"Nothing?" I ventured.
"That's fucking right, nothing! Not in a BF-WM."
That term again. I could feel the weight behind it. Weight that was coming at me. "What's a BF-WM? Please, I need to know what I'm heading into."
"It don't matter, kid. No words are going to paint a picture that stands up to the reality. You won't really understand until you're standing there, the thin glass of an automatic door and a thirty second countdown timer being the only thing that separates you from THEM."
"Isn't there a way to get out of it? To get some other assignment?"
The old man chuckled now. "Too late for that, kid. You had your chance to enlist. You decided to play the lottery and you lost. Ain't no future in this country unless you pay your dues. If you think you can make the run to Canada, you can be my guest. Won't get far with the trackers on to you."
I exhaled and then leaned forward, my eyes focusing on his. "What's a BF-WM?" I repeated.
"It's where they separate the men from the boys. You make it through with your balls and soul in tact, and you're out with hazard benefits. Might cost you an eye," he tapped the patch over his own missing eye, "but I'd consider that a victory."
I looked at him in silence.
He looked back at me.
The quiet stretched between us. Finally, he gave me a small nod. "BF-WM. Black Friday-Walmart." His voice dropped now. "There's rumors they'll have the Switch 2 with a Pokémon package." Now only a whisper. "Limited edition."
The blood drained from my face.
"Good luck kid, you're going to need it."
**WANT MOAR PERIL?**
r/PerilousPlatypus
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They told me there would be a great silence, and then a great rumble. I had spent the first portion of my time as a new-hire learning war stories from orientation videos. Where an elderly man with a crooked neck and a popeye body spoke in word salad.
“When you’re out there just remember that not only are you serving the company–the Dollar General, but you’re serving this country-THE United States of America. And what does every hard-working, red-blooded, Blue-Collar American desire more than freedom?! Why, the choice to shop without persecution for their purchases! They don’t want any moaning or eye-rolling when they push their overworked cart with one tire that's a squeaky wheel. Don’’t be the squeaky wheel; be the grease! Fix them! If they bring up 2 boxes of Swiss Rolls; let’em know they can get 3 for 8 bucks!”
I tuned out the rest, the only impression the video left on me were the rub marks from my hand on my cheek. It’s hard to see the screen, it’s old, like, 80s old. The digits are black and white analog with the 8s and 0s being identical and difficult to read.
I remember being able to see into the small, somewhat dry and decomposing parking lot during the multitude of times I had rode by or come here when stoned to get cheap candy and shoplift energy drinks. There’s no camera in the autoparts aisle, which doesn’t make sense, but a lot of things here don’t.
Back before this was a military outpost, it was just a store run by a guy who just wanted a job,and ended up being so reliable at working the job he just had that he poofed and became a general manager.
Then he poofed and became a regional manager, and has since poofed into a corporate office. A story I’ve been told numerous times by Gale, my current boss who does an expert job of faking it with the customers.
Something, along with the register that I need to work on. There are only three lanes, as this is one of the smaller stores in the area. Toney and Torey, the Shannon twins are working the other registers and they’re locked in motion with everything. It’s a little scary to hear them ring in unison.
When and if one messes up though, the whole thing breaks down. I haven’t seen it for myself, but StockRoom Steve told me about it. How he got so lucky as to only stock shelves I don’t know. I can’t complain though as there’s never a single thing missing from the shelves.
There’s a retail recruitment poster facing backwards from me on the plexiglass facing the parking lot. It’s held up by folded over masking tape that has more hair on it than I do on my face. It’s in the process of peeling off again.
As I walk towards it, the glass quakes, and the paper starts to half peel from its form; appearing like a worn band-aid. I peel it off, hoping to better face the picture again. It’s in black and white, looks like it was faxed from home.
It looks like my manager.
But this isn’t That old.
Gale can’t be that young.
A crack clears the throat of our PA. it’s 5am and even our electronics need to wake up.
“Would you please return to your station and leave the poster where you found it.”
I attempt a rebuttal, but the air and the speaker won’t hear. I fold the paper up and put it in my pocket.
A rush of air sweeps behind me as the automatic doors suction themselves loose. Thunder as a herd of hungry junk-food fanatics sweep in, and it’s a rush of sights, sounds, and sales.
There’s a cart from another store with stuff already in that a customer clunks inside. I’m too busy trying to keep up with all of the questions.
“Do you honor coupons from other outposts?”
“I bought this, where can I return it?”
“Does two for one work on any coke product, or just the ones on the ad.”
“Do you have a bathroom for paying customers only?”
“Can you take a check?”
“I only have EBT, will that work for everything?”
They’re all easy to answer, and instead of trying to win the war all at once; I pick my battles to the best of my ability.
“Only if we carry the same item.”
“Over at our customer service desk. You’re going to need to wait for an associate to be available to help you.”
“Just the ones on the ad, sorry.”
“No, we do not accept checks.”
“EBT will only work for dry food.”
My fingers have opened up to a new level of dexterity. I’m possessed with the typing speed of a courtroom stenographer. I can’t be stop–
I scream, my index finger and middle finger cramping up, twisting together in what doesn’t look good.
The guy in line needs his bush light, and asks me how hard my job is if I can’t use the machine; it does all the math for me.
The line halts and the store goes silent as I walk away from my post and into the mash unit out back.
My fingers get taped together, I get a 15 minute break, some ibuprofen and I am sent back out there again; to a line full of discount children’s toys, cheap knock offs of knock offs that only the worst people would purchase.
My finger twitches with pain, and I contemplate going AWOL as I scan one item at a time. Christmas crap no one will remember in a week. No one will even remember my service in the name of Dollar General.
So why continue working. Letting the redline scan over my face I grab a scanning gun, put it to my temple and line up for my checkout.
I Crumble, falling onto the black, soda sticky mat beneath my feet.
I’m called to the back and told to return to my quarters until I undergo a mental health screening, and can be trusted to serve the customer at my post.
|
jpj351o
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jpisuw8
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[WP] Genies don't actually mean to twist people's wishes. They just speak Arabic and have to rely on magical translation to interpret wishes in other languages.
|
The young man's eyes widened as the Genie escaped the lamp he had just rubbed, slowly filling the room like a cloud of blue mist before manifesting himself into a more human form; though still distinctly magical on account of his blue skin and floating a few feet in the air. The Genie stretched, having been slumbering in his lamp for several centuries, before setting his eyes on the man.
"You have awoken me, mortal?" he bellowed. "Then three wishes you shall have."
"Yarlo geene ab mastalim sesh seem?" the man replied carefully.
The Genie squinted his eyes at the lad.
"Yarlo geene?" the man repeated.
With a sigh, the Genie motioned his hands and summoned forth a simple yet immensely helpful incantation.
A *translation* spell - one that translated... *whatever* the young man spoke and formed it in Arabic, the Genie's native tongue.
"Speak, mortal," the Genie repeated.
"Are you a real genius?" the letters in front of the Genie translated. He pondered the question before carefully assessing the question.
"...yes, I am a genie," he replied. As he spoke, he motioned his fingers a couple more times to try and force the incantation to update its vocabulary.
"Are you saying I'll grant you three wishes?" the man questioned further.
"I... yes, ***I*** will grant you wishes, young one. Speak which you desire."
"I want to have more ambitions."
"Uh... say again, young man?" the Genie asked.
"More desire is what I wish."
"Granted. You shall now wish for more. You have two more wishes."
"What?!" the young man cried out. "I said I want more, no more!"
The Genie thought for a second. "Oh!" he yelled suddenly. "You wanted more wishes, right?"
The man nodded.
"Right. No, you can't have that, but tell you what - I'll take the last wish back. Some, uh, communication problems," he said nervously and tried to cast the translation incantation again.
"Can I have another Genie Light?"
"No more lamps either."
"Well, how about the economy?"
The Genie's brow furrowed before he motioned his hands. "Thine wish is granted - the economy of the country is now more potent. Should you wish for even more wealth, you will find the job market healthy and varied!"
"No, I mean... money, not a good job!" the man protested.
"Should've specified," the Genie shrugged.
"Can I still be reputation and popular?"
"Of course you can. Just believe in yourself," the Genie smiled gently.
The man raised an eyebrow. "So you can do it. I like."
The two smiled at each other nervously.
"Is it over?" the man finally broke the silence.
"Oh! You wanted to be popular! Sure, wish granted."
The young man jumped up and down excitedly as his phone buzzed. He opened it, seeing his high-school sweetheart had just messaged him on Facebook. He turned back to the Genie.
"But my last request... think..." he rubbed his chin. "Trying to change my choice? However, this is not a wish."
"I do not twist wishes," the Genie assumed the question. "You merely need to be specific."
"Are you sure I won't have any more cravings?"
"*No. More. Wishes,*" the Genie frowned. The man put up his hands defensively and backed down, not wishing to push his luck.
"Can this last thought be true later?" the man carefully asked.
The Genie, quite tired from the entire ordeal, motioned his hand. "Granted. The last thing you thought about will come true in your near future."
And with those words, he disappeared, annoyed by the outdated incantation. The man, however, stood stunned in the middle of the room.
"That's not..." he gasped, "I just... wanted to make the wish later..."
As he let out the words, his last, unintended wish materialized in front of him - a capybara with a bow on its neck. It squealed at him amicably.
"I- you know what?" he said with a soft smile and bent over to scratch the capybara on its neck; the animal, quite content with the situation, immediately rolled over on its back, expecting more scratches, "with how stories about genies and wishes go..." he continued and kept patting the happy animal.
"...could've gone worse."
|
It started out normally.
Archeologist finds antique site. Archeologist begs like a dog and grovels like a criminal to get funding. Archeologist finds barely enough funding—enough to scrap together as long as she doesn’t want to eat food for 3 months—and begins the dig. Archeologist has to spend as much time justifying the government’s spending as she does looking for artifacts.
Then she finally found it.
The relic of the long lost tribe. There among dusty pieces of pottery and burial rites, she found the clay lamp with the withered wick and the almost invisible sigil.
The books, the writings that survived, said that it was important. That it was miraculous. That it was feared but had saved the city from all manner of disasters. It was almost like the seed of a religion with miracles that were said to have started just before Christ. There were still tiny pockets of followers who gathered in small pockets of darkness so that they could do whatever they wanted to whatever ends they could conceive.
She barely dared to breathe.
The tiny lamp didn’t look like much. The wick was a shrunken memory of linen weaving. Or maybe silk. Or maybe threads of flax. It was impossible to tell at this late date. But it stood alone on a pillar of its own while other torches and lamps of bronze and gold were crowded against sacred writings and beads and trinkets, which seemed to lend truth to the rumors.
With a brush of the softest, conditioned bristles, she began to push aside the thin layer of dust and ropey cobwebs. The inscription was barely visible—tiny lines it was almost impossible to believe that humans carved at all—and she smiled at their simplistic words.
“To light the way in Punt’s darkest hour alone as long as the light lasts”
Virginia sighed behind her face mask and bandana and pulled out a small glass bottle of oil that smelled like olives and a few inches of wick she had cut off a spool at a store somewhere. The truest way to see if this was the legendary item was to light the thing. And if it wasn’t, then fine—she’d keep looking.
She took out a shallow saucer sort of dish—a reckless purchase to hold teabags or something from a bazar three weeks ago when she’d taken a minor diplomatic envoy and a friendly corporate donor—and soaked the bit of wick for a minute. With shaking fingers, she eased the old wick out and then poured her remaining oil inside.
So far nothing.
It took three times to finally thread the soaked wick into the narrow neck. The fiddly thing seemed to have a mind of its own as it wiggled and clung like a snake to every surface and avoid the hole. Finally, with a heavy sigh of relief, it went in and she used a lighter to start the small flame.
The flame might have simply needed time. Or the wick might be wrong. Or something.
But surely the green flame meant something.
Virginia stared at it, uncertain if she wanted something to pop out or not. There were all sorts of stories….
Then she saw the dark skinned woman, wrapped in silk and cloth-of-gold and so elaborately decorated it was like staring at a Hollywood actress.
Virginia nodded, grateful when the figure nodded back.
“Hi.”
The figure cocked its head.
“Umm…. hello.” At the blank look, she tried again. “Uhh… salam alaykum.” Then again. “Buenos dias?”
The figure frowned uncertainly and even her golden ornaments seemed to be uncertain. Virginia gave a half hearted wave. She had officially run out of languages she was safely fluent enough in, but there were a few more things to try.
“Mrhban?” she whispered, trying Arabic and certain she had been utterly unintelligible.
The woman’s face cleared and she burst out with melodious speech. Now Virginia felt confusion at the elaborate greeting and bowing. Finally, she burst out, “La-afham—.”
While she was sure that it would only lead to more silence, she was utterly surprised as the figure seemed to understand. Back to square one, but then she saw the being waved and glowing sigils appear. For a breathless moment, the pieces of lines and curves wobbled uncertainly then slid into a firmly dividing line on the floor and then into a small collection of wobbling on her side and one on the other.
“What is this?” Virginia sighed.
Immediately, the lines on her side transformed into…. elaborate calligraphy.
The being stared down at them and then back at her. Her words came back in short bursts and to Virginia’s amazement the wiggly lines at her feet became English.
“I am known as Zaynab—it means ‘the beautiful one’.” Virginia nodded as Zaynab went on. “I do not know the words you speak, and have cast this so that we may speak.”
“Oh… ummm… okay.”
“I can grant you wishes so long as I can understand them. Yet, even this must end as the lush gardenia must at last wither.” Zaynab pointed to the lamp. “I am here as long as the lamp burns. And no other may interfere, nor be allowed to be harmed.”
“Can you… bring people back from the dead?”
Zaynab stared at the lines at Virginia’s feet. “You would harm one immortal soul?”
“Harm?”
“To deny them their reward is surely evil. To deny them them the justice of their punishment is evil to those who suffered under them.”
Virginia nodded to herself. That made a sort of sense. “Can you grant me wealth?”
Zaynab stared uncertainly at her feet and then nodded with an impatient expression. “You are unclear.”
“Like riches. Gold. Emeralds. You know?”
Zaynab nodded and with a fluent wave of her arm pointed to the chamber. “There are certainly riches here for a woman alone.”
Virginia frowned at the torches and chests and trinkets. “I suppose—but they are old.” She fingered the edge of a fold of fabric. “And…”
“You surely want more than mere riches?” Zaynab muttered. Virginia shrugged and nodded. “Then you shall find a hundred camels and two hundred sheep and a caravan that will stretch from horizon to horizon—.”
“Umm.. ahh… thanks, but that isn’t really wealth in this age.”
“What age?”
“Well, we use gold and.. gems. But nobody barters goats or sheep like that.”
“Wealth—not in animals.” Zaynab’s eyes were uncertain. “Then there shall be an armada—well laden with ebon and teak and cedar, worthy of Solomon’s temple—.”
|
mlq3p6n
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mlptayd
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[WP] Take a normally boring activity, but make it sound exciting.
|
I gently touched the door, wishing to feel the warmth of a living soul behind it. I looked around at the empty bar, and pulled my hand away from the cold door. Without thinking I wandered between the tables, remembering all the interesting people I had helped move on. 300 trillion souls, and I remembered every one.
A knock at the door made my shoulders fall. How was I going to explain this to him?
"Sorry John, but I still can't let you in." I whispered through the door.
"Samantha died this morning. Its my turn now." I put my hand on the cold door and held my breath.
"My wish was to be the last to die. Samantha is dead now and its just me left. Let me in!"
"No." I heard a gasp from the door. "Theres still someone left, so you can't die yet."
"The lights are off! You told me that only happens when the last living soul dies!"
I sighed and opened the door. John was hunched over in his wheelchair, barely able to stay upright. "To be alive you have to be able to die. You can't die until the genie keeping you alive dies, and he can't die until he has fullfilled your wish."
"I didn't wish to live forever! Thats not what I wished for!"
I sighed, remembering the countless souls who have said that.
"Genies are tricky like that. He followed the letter of your wish, so theres nothing I can do. Some things are more powerful than death. If it makes you feel better, the genie is pretty miserable too."
John started to mutter a lot of swears to himself and started to wheel away. I watched him struggle to move his arms, and after a couple minutes I closed the door and turned to the one occupant in the corner.
"You could just let him die. The big one is often lenient with mercy rule breaking."
"No way." The blue being rose from his chair. "Once my last wish is fullfilled, she does an audit of all wishes I ever granted."
"Thats what you get." I chuckled. "Seem cruel though, to make him suffer for eternity to avoid punishment. One day she will realise."
"For me this is not cruel."
|
The last living thing come to him, finally, Death took a last look at the world. How much it had changed since its birth. Despite its apparent precarity, how much it had resisted him. Volcanoes had ruptured, spooling lines of decorative glow down the planet's face, and the seas had risen, glossing the still green landmasses beneath in a glinting ever-shifting blue. There was no doubting its beauty, Death knew, despite his resentment. Death sighed and turned his back on a destiny fulfilled and peered forward at the endless black he would now traverse, with the hope of one day finding himself.
“And where are you off to?” said a voice behind Death.
Death turned to find a sand corpus, drifting upwards and downwards within itself but retaining a humanoid image. The sound near where the beings mouth vibrated as it spoke.
It continued, “What a tragically boring ending. Truly. Frankly, I’m not a huge fan of endings, though, sometimes they’re fun if you know another beginning is just around the horizon. That’s what I’ve come to tell you, dear Death. You think you're finished here?”, said the sand.
“And you are?” asked Death, impatient at what seemed to be a final defiance from something that appeared unkillable.
“Time, of course.”
“Right. Time,” said Death, exasperated. “Well I suppose we’re going to get to know each other well. We might be all each other has from here on. Might as well start off on the right foot. I’m finished here, thankfully. I’m off to look for any last vestige of life. Germs, creepy crawlers, crabs, and the like. I like to keep track, make sure they don’t get out of hand. Earth was a nightmare of an oversight.”
“And what a good job you’re doing. Truly commendable work, Death, but, you see: things get incredibly boring with nothing to watch. Maybe you could leave a colony of dust mites, or a culture of germs. For me?”
“No.”
“Oh, but come on. We do need a little drama, don’t we? Else what am I to do, sit here and stare at nothing the rest of infinite everything?”
“Sure, I don’t know. You don’t have eyes.”
“Touche.”
“Look, I’ll do my best to make the Death of everything interesting at least. Give you something to chew on for eternity. Ta-ta now.” Death walked past the sand, which at the rejection of its request had regressed to a lump of nothing sitting, piddling back and forth, and past the Earth. Just as both were about to be out of view, Death’s leg stopped moving. Or rather, he couldn’t move it. Or rather, he could, but slowly. So slowly that Death’s soul was likely to leave his form before his sole left the ground. The sand trickled past his bony feet and formed once more in front of him.
“I tried,” time vibrated.
Death still could not move, but a blur of motion appeared in front of him. The distant dots of starlight blended into thick lines of radiance and drew lines of perfect curvature across the blank canvas of space. New pins of light rose, drew a line, and faded, over and over again until as if at once, dust coalesced around Death and Time, forming a small planet. A rock of hellfire and virgin gray stone. It spun and looked at Death, threatening, daring in its glare. Until, eventually, the gray stone became covered in glistening waves, and the remaining rock grew a spot of virulent green that blanketed every crevice.
“What have you done,” Death asked, shaking.
“I’ve given you work. Purpose. You should thank me,” Time said, as the grains split into a thousand-million lines, and disbursed leisurely in each direction, leaving Death with the new ball.
Death felt his finger tips pushing into his palms, a wash of hot rage at his face. He stared at the new planet with disdain. Death saw a creature, a pathetic misshapen struggling thing, pull itself from the ocean to the soft sand of untrodden beaches. He hated it, or at least he’d remembered hating it. This time it was so simple, pure. It had none of the contradiction or faux purposefulness that had ended the Earth. Without avarice, villainy, mistakenness, constructed narrativizing, it was only alive and nothing more. The blob-like limbed fish wanted only one thing: life. Continuance. Perfectly defiant of Death and without pretence. A small smile forced its way to the ends of Death’s mouth. Perhaps this he could allow. If just for a time.
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jd628gr
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jd5utej
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[WP]Walking into a flower shop and slamming down money on the counter, "How do i passively aggressively say fuck you in flower"
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He’d walked into the flower shop, his shoulders hunched with anger, pale and tired. A subtle bouquet needed to be created, tied on the left and delivered with disdain.
‘Yellow chrysanthemums’ he cried, ‘she’s told me she despised me. Geraniums! She called me an idiot to have loved her. And lavender, for her paranoid distrust. Don’t forget the orange lilies, for her hatred.’
He quieted for a moment. ‘And add snapdragons, for deception, a single yellow rose for her infidelity, a poppy for my grief, and a spray of forget me nots.’
The shopkeeper noted ‘Subtle, sir. Any other symbols of floral distaste? Henbane? Evening primrose? A stem of hollyhocks? A striped carnation?’
‘Well, that combination would be rude. I wouldn’t want to send a black dahlia, would I?’
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"Sir this is a Home Depot. We only sell potted plants and seeds." I frown, look down at counter, frown some more, and return my gaze to his face.
"My offer still stands." He slaps the fat stack of bills on the table. "Fucker."
"Hey, that was uncalled for." I say, "Do you want my help or not?"
He sighs, "Sorry, rough day. So? How do I passively aggressively say FUCK YOU in flower. Not that I was saying FUCK YOU to *you*, I just need to say FUCK YOU to enunciate that FUCK YOU is the message I need to convey to the person who is not you."
My lips purse into a line. "If your goal is to confuse me as to whether or not I should be offended, you've succeeded."
"WELL?"
"Uh, I'm just a cashier, but I guess something with lots of thorns, a rose?"
"Thanks." The man walks away and I return to staring at the wall. It's 7pm. Just one more hour of watching paint dry.
"Hey."
I look up, it's that man again. His scruffy, unkept hair sways energetically as he pounds the large pot of roses onto the counter. It shatters.
"Uh. You're going to have to pay for that." I scratch my head. "Sir."
"Damn right I will." He sprays one dollar bills at me like a printer playing 52 pickup. The leaf green slips settle in an unorganized mess across the several pounds of dirt covering the counter and floor.
"Have a good day, Mr. Not a Fucker." The man throws the last of the bills into the air and leaves the building without even bothering to take the flower he just bought.
I turn to Emma, who is standing next to me holding her sides and shaking silently, suppressing what I assume to be a laugh. I frown some more. This has got the be the oddest shift I've ever been on.
"So... what the hell was that about?" I say when she finally composes herself.
"That guy has been trying to get my number all week, I told him you were my boyfriend 5 minutes ago." She smiles, I kind of expected something to happen, but not *this*.
"That's... not nice of you."
"Eh, I figured you could handle yourself if anything happened, Mr. Star Judo Athlete." She punches me lightly in the side. Despite her small frame and my built stature, her bony knuckles drive a painful impression into my muscular fiber.
"You know I haven't been in a competition since college. I'm way out of practice."
"I... wouldn't mind some practice with you," She says with a soft smile, then looks away for some reason.
"Nah, our frames are too far apart, you'd be in a different weight class, wouldn't really be good practice." I shrug.
She punches me again, "Stupid."
"Yes yes," I sigh.
"So, uhm, do you want to try that new Sushi bar down the street with me after work..?" She kicks her feet lightly while sitting on the counter.
"Nah, I'm on a calorie controlled diet. I already have my dinner prepared at home."
She pouts, punches me again and stomps away. Did I do something to make her mad? Ah oh well, she'll get over it, it didn't seem like she was really mad. Back to watching paint dry.
___
A/N: 😶
/r/Unexpected_Works
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kedu20a
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kedjk8t
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[WP] On a long straight road with nothing of note, there is a four-way traffic light that hangs in the middle. No road crosses anywhere near the traffic light and no sign to tell you why it's there, but it seems to always be green, so no one cared. That's until the day it changed to yellow.
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The roar of the engine in the dark, quiet night was Sarah's favourite sound.
Rubber gripped and danced on the asphalt as the 64 Mustang powered down the desert road.
The night air shimmered in her headlamps. Sarah drove this road every night. A road to nowhere, in the middle of nothing. Half way down this long, empty stretch of black tar was a four-way light. It was an odd place to put one, with no intersection, and no pedestrian crossing to be seen. Hell, no pedestrians to speak of anywhere for miles.
"at least I always catch the green," she'd say when she passed it. Green on all sides. She stopped one night years ago when it first appeared and walked around it.
The Mustang kicked, snapping Sarah out of her trance. She gripped the warm leather wheel and shifted her weight on the seat as she downshifted to balance the transmission and bring peace to the engine. Up ahead was the light.
She slammed hard on the brakes and the car skidded across the black gravel surface to a stop.
"what the-" she looked at the evergreen light, her mouth agape, tire smoke rising from the car aglow with an amber hue. On one side, her side, the light was yellow.
Caution.
She turned off her engine and got out of the car into the warm air of the desert night. Stars shone above in the sky, brighter than she'd have thought stars should be. There were more of them, too. She turned her attention from the amber glow of the light to the purple hue of the moon.
The yellow light flickered violenty and in the distance she heard the ringing of bells. The pole that held the light opened, and a railroad crossing barrier began to come down across the road.
Sarah looked up at the amber light, now blinking at steady 1 second intervals. To her right in the distance she heard a train billowing along the tracks. "Tracks? There are no trains on this road," she thought to herself, as the bell of the train whistled.
The train picked up speed and went passed her. The lights of the train were a deep red. As it passed, she caught a glimpse of the conductor's boned hands with a death-grip on the whistle. Fire rose from the wheels and sparked onto the hot sand of the desert, leaving behind no trace of smoke or ash.
As soon as it was there, it was gone. The train of fire and brimstone, on a road in the middle of nowhere, on tracks that didn't exist. Sarah got back in her car and sat staring at the light and the barrier. It blinked and blinked yellow until it turned green again. When she looked back down at the road, the barrier was gone, the train was nowhere to be seen, and the moon was a dull white light in the empty starless sky.
She turned the key in the ignition and the car roared to life. Pedal to the metal, Sarah drove down the long and empty road towards her home.
In the distance, over the roar of the engine, a train whistle sounded. Sarah pulled her jacket tighter around her, and drove off into the night.
|
Carris is a gas station of a town. It's not named after the seed, far as I know, but it's a fittin' name. Fill up. Keep goin'.
Technically, it's a two-traffic-light-town, though I'm not sure that's all that much different from a one-light-town. Besides, only one of 'em works, far as I can tell.
Carris is also the halfway point between Pick-Up and Drop-Off.
Twenty years I spent - Walmart, Amazon, UPS. $40k a year and healthcare. Enough to keep drivin', and not much else. But this. This was somethin' different.
Six months ago, I was driving to Washington from Salt Lake. Stopped at a different one-traffic-light town - Stanfield. That's where I met him. Only time I ever did.
"You drive?"
I was trying to order a cheeseburger and a coke from a truck-stop diner before I wet-napped off in the bathroom. He was in a suit and tie in the booth next to mine.
"Beg pardon?"
"You drive a truck?"
I wasn't sure why I even answered. Lot of folks think truck stops are some kind of replacement for community when you're on the road. Same way everyone thinks homeless people are all friendly in their cardboard box towns. Fact of it is, I don't talk to no one, and no one talks to me, and that's exactly how it's supposed to be.
"Yeah," I told him for no reason other than that he'd asked direct, and I'm a lotta things, but I'm not rude. "Yeah, I drive a truck."
"Good," he said, and nothin' more than that for long enough I thought I was supposed to say somethin' else.
"A cheeseburger and a coke, please and thank you." It was good the waitress was back, cuz whatever it was he wanted me to say, I wasn't gonna say it.
"Good," he said again, and stood up. Gave me a card with a little map on it, big ol' 'X' marked off in the middle of nowhere on one edge - "Pick-Up" - big ol' 'x" in the middle of nowhere on the other - "Drop-Off". In pen, he'd written - $2.5 million. Then, he left.
That first time, when I rolled up to Pick-Up, I was sure I was in the wrong place. Dirt. Red, clay, flat dirt, far as I could see. I cursed him for the joke and the cost of gas, but when I pulled around to head home, I saw it. A single, medium-sized brown, cardboard box, just sittin' there in the open.
"Not sure why I needed a truck," I muttered, and stepped out. The box was unmarked, save for a post-it. 'Don't open it.' Well, I wasn't about to risk $2.5 million by disobeyin' a post-it.
The map took me clear across Utah and through Nevada. In the middle, it was marked "Carris". It was only other thing written on the map. "Pick-Up," "Drop-Off", "$2.5 million" and "Carris." What else was I supposed to do?
So, there I was, that first time. Gassed up. Pissed. Drove out. Lights were both green.
Drop-off was trickier. The map took me out to northern California, where there was nothin' but trees. I cursed him again for making me bring a semi, but I wound it up through the mountains and found the "X". Another plain, cardboard box with nothin' around for as far as I could see. This one was a bit bigger than the first and already opened. I gathered that I was supposed to put the first one inside this one, so I did that and waited.
"Where's my money?" I wondered aloud, but there was no one there, and soon enough, I was good and truly pissed off. I kicked the flap of cardboard that hung over the side of the open box. Sure enough, taped right there, was a stack of bills. I didn't bother countin'.
"Now, bring it back." Another post-it, taped under the money. "And don't open it."
I didn't know then if there'd be more money, but there was. I drove back to Pick-Up. Stopped in Carris. One light was red, but the other was green. I was sure I was gonna miss it waitin' on the first one. I hated lights. Years on the open highways had spoiled me. But it never turned, long as I waited.
Back at Pick-Up - you guessed it. Another open box. Another stack of money. "Now, bring it back. And don't open it."
At least now I was startin' to get why I needed a truck.
Passed through Carris again. That second light still caught my eye. I waited this time. Three minutes - checked my watch. Didn't change. Got bored and went on.
"Now bring it back. And don't open it."
I had to stop at a different town to buy a bigger trolley and some straps. Boxes weren't heavy, but they were gettin' big.
Seven minutes, I waited this time. That'd be the longest light I'd ever seen three times over. Green.
So, here I was. Box was goin' on six-foot tall by the way it met my eye. Barely fit in the truck. But, strange as it'd all been, nothin' was stranger than Carris and that one light.
I decided to wait this time. Long as it took. Maybe it was a railroad folks didn't use much anymore. Maybe a school crossing, though I couldn't imagine Carris had a school. I asked the guy behind the counter at the gas station, but he just flicked up his eyebrows and asked if I was buyin' anything on account of the number of times I'd used the toilet. Asshole.
I had decided to wait, but I didn't have to. Yellow. It turned yellow right as I pulled up and didn't stay that way long. It turned red, and then the trailer started shakin'.
Carris. Fittin' name. I wasn't the only one needed fillin' up to keep goin'.
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krdtmpx
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krdo7bh
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[WP] The Galactic Federation makes first contact with Earth just to inform us that the planet has been divided up between several advanced civilizations, with no regard for our established national borders
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"So be it, humanity possesses the power to destroy itself, and we would rather blow apart our planet than be slaves under your yoke"
The suited man gestured to his neck, as the technicians cut the message. He turned to his fellow world leaders on the video feeds.
"Today the earth dies" he fumbled in his pocket for a second and smiled.
"I always did hate you Alexi, and you to Chang."
"Da, likewise"
"我也讨厌你们俩"
As the vast mechanisms of modern war began to turn, people throughout the world sighed in a mixed saddness and joy, that although the brief existence of their race would be over, perhaps their act of defiance would inspire someone somewhere to overcome this alien menace.
Alarms blared, submarines came to periscope depth and opened their payload hatches, equally bombers took to the skies and land based silos opened and humanities final act would leave the planet little more than an asteroid field of glass.
In a multitude of flashes it was all over. Every man, woman and child, gone in a nuclear firestorm that shattered the earth.
Eons would pass, but those who came after would record it as the first act of defiance against the federation. Memorialised forever, in some sick sense humanity hadn't just won, but it's memory would last, a symbolic act as those who had sought to stand against a long forgotten evil.
Edit:grammar
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The Galactic Federation makes first contact with Earth just to inform us that the planet has been divided up between several advanced civilizations, with no regard for our established national borders
“No way the governments gonna roll over for this bull I tell you” tom muttered downing his pint
Sara shook her head, mirroring his optimism. "There's got to be a catch"
In a dimly lit government office, Marcus, a diplomat with years of negotiation experience, sat across from general, Harry.
"We need to show strength," Harry asserted, clenching his jaw shut. "If we give in now, it's over. We'll be living under their rule and boy it ain't gonna be pretty."
"And what? Go to war with beings so powerful they mastered travel faster than light? If we want to survive we have to beg for a talk"
A man burst through the room carrying a stack of papers in his arms, almost falling over from the urgency he was in. “SIR IT'S THE CHINESE AND RUSSIANS, THEY’VE ACCEPTED OUR DEMANDS. WE ARE READY”
Harry smirked, looking at the diplomat who had a defeated look on his face, clearly he knew what this meant. “See boy, all you need is a common goal and a common enemy and anyone can come together.” "We have one shot at this," he declared, now sitting in his command center addressing the room filled with the world's finest military minds from all corners of the globe.
The atmosphere was tense, when the Chinese delegate spoke, “American, our satellites, our missiles, everything we have is now yours. We are not here for your little speech about going down without a fight, we are here to win and we demand a win from you"
The American general simply smirked, confidently “Oh please, these little diplomatic bugs might be able to travel through space but they will never survive the mighty force of our nations banded together”
The human response was swift. Millions of weapons, aircraft and laser weapons lit the sky up with a burning fury. Cheers went across the entire command center, the radar signature of the aliens ship had gone quiet, the humans had won. Or so they thought… Through the thick smoke that enveloped the atmosphere came a swift counter attack, technology far beyond human comprehension rendered all of Earth's defenses obsolete in moments, entire cities were reduced to ash in the blink of an eye.
General Harrow, watching from a command center buried deep underground, could only stare in disbelief as the screens displayed the futile efforts of his forces, alien troops covered head to toe in indestructible fark armor began to drop all over the world .
It wasn't a battle, it was a slaughter. The aliens massacred entire battalions of soldiers within minutes, the greatest human technological weapons were burst into flames by a single alien soldier as they razed entire armies. The radio communications that filled the room began to get cut off one by one, Harry could hear the shrieking noise of the alien blasters as his soldiers began to go offline, he could hear some of his men begging for mercy only to be silenced.
The world was silent. The once bustling cities and lively streets were now empty, the remnants of humanity's defiance lying in ruins.
Then the alien armada spoke once more, their second ever communication since they had declared the earth their property “It's always easier to divide land when it's under rubble, it is truly a shame, we were sure you would have made a good addition to our empire had you only accepted. However, we thank you for making this easier”
“SIR A PROJECTILE IS INCOMING” a soldier's voice screamed, cutting through the grim despair that had filled the room.
“Long live the empire”
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j8bmh50
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j8b79ox
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[WP] As a Barbarian, you hate that just because you have a different lifestyle, your party looks down on you and assumes you are incapable of basic intelligent thought. Today you had enough.
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"But Krug, the way they treat you is- it's criminal! You have the most combat experience in the team yet they all think you're a... uh-"
"dunce, know-nothing, unculture brute, all muscle and no head, yes Krug get called many names, young one. Krug is okay with names."
"Yeah but, why let them? I know you're more knowledgeable than you let on. I just saw you secretly fix Greybeard's spellcircle and he just thinks he got it right the first time."
"Ah you saw, so Krug's old bones no longer sneaky as they used to be, good to know. Now young one, come sit and let old Krug tell you story.
When Krug your age, krug *did* talk back. Krug was strong, proud, clever too, but not clever in the right ways. When Krug beat warrior Hogarth in contest of strength, Krug would brag to all and call himself best, but Hogarth wouldn't forget. Hogarth poison Krug drink before battle and Krug suffer from bad stomache. When Krug see mistake in rune circle, Krug would laugh at wizard Alastus, but then Alastus would 'forget' to help when Krug in danger and only treat Krug's wounds last. When someone call Krug 'wrong', Krug would hit back, but many friends lost that way. Many more later became enemies.
Krug live this long only because Krug has learned. There are better things than saying who is strongest or smartest, and if Krug is called fool, that is okay as long as Krug and team work well and live another battle."
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A small smile crept on to your lips as you watched the remaining party stride into the main hall after smashing down the main doors at the opposite end of a long vaulted Hall. The small group approached with looks of bewilderment and shock. Several members of the band looked around in consternation as they reached the throne where Benny the Barbarian sat cleaning his nails with a gold handled dagger. Jacob stared directly at you, eyes challenging, questioning. You soak it all in. The Truth - Sayer smiles at you through his long bearded face. How? They all seem to say. Maybe it was too much?. Bless Magda who erupted in an almighty cry of laughter once she got a glimpse of you sprawled out on the throne. The healer had a great sense of humour.
"How the hell did you of all people get in here before us?“
By now the rest of the band had gathered around the foot of the throne staring up with equal mystification and disdain. Some of the band looked on with adoration, Benny took this all in mentally noting the dark shadows on some of the warriors faces. This perhaps had been a bigger mistake than he originally thought. But Benny was nearly done with this quest. Just two more weeks of this and it will all be done he told himself. Two more weeks of the dim witted Barbarian who happened upon their ill advised voyage. He felt a stab of guilt as he swung off the throne. Bowing low he proffered the seat to Jacob. "My Lord, " he suddenly announced "the Throne is yours"
Jacob sat warily eyes still focused on the Barbarian.
"the Throne yes, but perhaps not the kingdom"
"explain yourself" Jacob ordered.
"myself, I was quite by accident brought in close vicinity of this very hall after being captured by the wall guards, who incidentally came into contact with my poisoned armour. So you see I was covering the flank in the Westwood when my accidental capture brought me into the heart of the Kingdom itself! "
A look of confusion passed over Jacobs face replaced quickly by anger.
"We don't have time for tall tales Benny, see to it that the rest of the Barbarians are covering the Westwood flank, hopefully they won't be as easily captured like you"
Benny withdrew from the hall, there was a flurry of activity as Jacob organised a quelling of the fighting still happening within the inner walls. Benny made his way back to camp. As he opened his tent flap he immediately sensed a slight disturbance along the thread of his proximity web. Stepping back he gave it a slight mental tug on the thread allowing it to fall to the floor. A smile sprang to his lips as he stepped in with a fluid bow. "Master!“ he exclaimed. The Truth - Sayer sat cross legged on the floor and Benny joined him.
"Can we please leave?" asked Benny
"Not yet" he replied.
"Tell me how you got into the inner sanctum, and spare me the abducted lies" said the Truth Sayer
"I remember looking at old maps of Cumbria on grandfather's wall, there was a very old one that showed a lake in the middle of Westwood during Fair Gandwyns rule, I remember they used to use aqua ducts a lot back then." explained Benny
"Very wise Benny, very wise, did you get it?“ asked the Truth Sayer
" of course" replied Benny producing a large white diamond the size of an chicken egg from beneath his clothes.
The Truth Sayer added it to a special pouch on his waist, looking up he caught Bennys eyes and held them for a moment. Just two more they both thought. No one needed to say it. The Truth Sayer stood up and went to the tent flap. He hesitated. "Please no more theatrics Benny, your stunt on the throne nearly got you executed and your Sister nearly blew her cover"
As he left Benny the Barbarian whispered "yes Dad".
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j46qad4
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j46hbou
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[WP] You are a hero that can manipulate darkness and shadow, able to make it solid and shape it into many forms. As you are cornered by Villains, trapped within a room made to trap you, with no shadow around, you tell them something that makes them stare at you in horror. "Human insides are dark"
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"You know your innards are wrapped completely in shadows, right?" I look at the 4-man team trying to back me into a corner of the best-lit room I have ever seen. The men are not even casting shadows on themselves, much less each other. Every flat surface is glowing slightly. The lighting was impeccable, I have to give them that. As someone who manipulates shadows, they think they have me beaten.
"Psh, whatever you say, man," the gentleman (using the term loosely, of course) in the lead replies. In my head, I call him Bob. I don't know the names of any of these men, and I don't know what they want from me.
"Please don't push me, I don't want to kill you," I beg them.
They all laugh. Big belly laughs that just go on and on. The four of them stand in front of me, preparing to... I am not sure what they are going to do, honestly. But I am sure it won't be any good for me.
I brace myself, this is something I haven't done in many years, and had prayed I would never have to resort to again.
"Ok," I say, focusing on the man in the back of the group, the one that doesn't look quite happy with everything that is going on. Maybe he is new to the gang, maybe that will be more powerful to them. Maybe he will quit when this is all said and done.
Without moving or looking away, I freeze the shadows in his lungs. He instantly stops and grabs his chest, trying to make his lungs move, but they are filled with the inky black substance of shadows made solid. Having grasped it tightly with my mind's grip, I begin to move those shadows up his throat and into his mouth. He begins to gag and falls to the floor, writhing. Slowly I extend the shadows from his mouth in the form of thin tentacles.
Bob's head snaps around as his companion hits the floor. His eyes go wide as the shadows seep from the man's mouth. Slowly, he and the other two back away. That also means, away from me.
The man on the floor is fighting less now, the shadows are stretched to the door to break the lock. I walk to the door, the other men giving me distance. Distance would not normally save them, but I just want out. I don't *want* to kill them. I will figure out who these people are later. I know what they look like, they can't hide from me. I will see them in every shadow they come across.
I turn the doorknob, the latch releases, and I open the door. As I step through, I turn back to the men. They stare back in horror. Nothing they have ever done had prepared them for this situation. I feel bad for them.
I allow the shadows I have in my mind's grip to relax and turn back into nothingness. The man on the floor begins to gasp. I can see one of the other men wants to run to his side, but just watches me instead. So I back out of the door, into the sunshine, turn, and walk away.
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The villains feel something they haven't felt in a long time , It isn't their mothers kind touch nor their fathers encouraging words , rather it is the essence of their own being...fear.
The hero had manipulated their intestines to pulse faster , causing undigested food to pass quickly down to their bowels.
With clenched buttholes , the villains slowly walk out the room. One of them leaves 20$ on the floor as he backs away from the hero.
"Get your shit together , literally" says the Hero , with one hand on his nose as he dials Maria the super cleaning lady's number.
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mc7yk3u
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mc6kox6
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[WP] "Stay in school, kids!" the superhero proudly prolcaimed. "You don't wanna end up like this guy!" The beaten thug coughed and groaned in pain, "I have a PhD, asshole..."
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The hero leaned over the man lying on the ground, pinning him down with one knee on his back. His cape billowed dramatically in the street wind.
—Stay in school, kids! —he proclaimed proudly—. You don’t wanna end up like this guy!
The supposed thug coughed and groaned in pain.
—I have a PhD, asshole…
The superhero narrowed his eyes, suspicious.
—Oh, sure, and I’m the president! Then why were you trying to steal that old lady’s purse?
The man, still dazed from the beating, protested:
—What are you talking about?! I was just helping her cross the street!
The old lady, who had been watching the scene in panic, quickly intervened:
—It’s true, this young man was only helping me…
—It’s Stockholm syndrome, ma’am! —the superhero interrupted her with a knowing nod—. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.
The old lady frowned, but before she could respond, the hero noticed something next to the man: a small laboratory cooler filled with tubes of dark liquid.
—Aha! And what do we have here? —he exclaimed suspiciously, snatching the cooler—. Poison? Some kind of potion to manipulate your victims’ minds?
The man, growing more desperate, shook his head.
—What?! These are blood samples I’m taking to the lab!
The hero smirked with irony.
—Yeah, sure…
He opened one of the tubes and took a sip.
Instantly, he spat it out in disgust.
—Ugh! It is real… So, you collect the blood of your victims, huh?!
The man, now too exhausted to argue, simply closed his eyes in resignation. At that moment, a passerby stopped and looked at him in surprise.
—Dr. Ethan? Is that you? What’s going on?
The hero straightened up with dignity.
—Don’t worry, sir! This ruffian will pay for…!
The man on the ground let out a groan.
—For the love of God… I’m a hematologist!
The superhero blinked.
—Oh…
The other man nodded confidently.
—It’s true, I know him. He’s Dr. Ethan, a very respected hematologist.
The superhero stood still for a few seconds. Then, with feline agility, he jumped to his feet and, with an exaggerated gesture, helped Ethan up.
—Relax, doctor! I got here just in time.
—What?
—An invisible villain attacked you, but luckily I was here to save you.
—You were the one who hit me!
The hero sighed and shook his head in pity, clicking his tongue condescendingly.
—Tsk, tsk, tsk… Of course, of course… the villain also alters the memories of his victims. Classic.
He took a step back, dusted off his cape, and looked up at the sky with a heroic air.
—Another day, another victory for justice!
And with that, he threw a smoke bomb to the ground. Nothing happened.
—Damn it… —he muttered, pulling out a matchbox and lighting the fuse on the bomb.
After a small explosion, he vanished into a cloud of smoke, coughing as he clumsily slipped away into the alleys.
Dr. Ethan rubbed his face and looked at the old lady.
—Is he always like this?
The old lady sighed.
—Last month, he arrested a mannequin.
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"And what did you do with it?" The Hero replied smoothly. "You could have been rich. And yet, because apparently you didn't stay long enough here, in a simple school you're make a mistake a child could have made! I mean seriously this is part of why we start at kindergarten." He shook his head.
"Remember kids, even if you're a super genius, you could probably just patent the super tech you use. you could cure cancer, you can do ANYTHING with the right mindset. That's what Heroes do. Villains like him wanted to kill billions of people because he was too stupid to think his weather-creating machine could have fed trillions across the galaxy! If you have great gifts, temper them with wisdom."
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lglxobh
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lglwg8i
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[WP] The genie tries to warn you of the implications before you cut him off, "I have no intention of wishing for it, but hypothetically, could you grant it?" you ask. "Yes, technically" the genie relents.
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**Note**: Please understand this isn't meant to be a comment or stance on anything, its just where the prompt took me as I thought through it.
-----------------------------
“Technically?” I repeat the word back, trying to make sure I weigh the veracity of the djinn’s response.
“Well yes,” it replies, “but honestly, I have no idea what would actually happen. The grander the scope and the more intrinsic the changes, the harder it is to predict the consequences. While I am sure I can do what you are asking, what will actually happen is a crap shoot.”
‘A crap shoot.’ The phrase plays in my mind, far too accurate for far too many things in my life. I think if I were to write a memoir, it would be a fitting title. Rather than simply being dealt a bad hand, I’ve historically been given Monopoly pieces and asked to play Chess. I perpetually feel like I’m sitting at the wrong table, playing the wrong game with the wrong people.
Finally, I get to change it.
“Do it.” The finality in my voice is surprising, even to myself. It conveys a sense of confidence that I don’t actually feel but hearing it said in such a way is a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I grow more confident in my decision.
“I’m not one to question a master’s wishes, believe me, but are you sure?” The red, vaporous djinn stares down at me with a look of incredulity on its face. Bearing masculine features, it would be easy to call it a him, but I refuse to make that mistake. Isn’t that point of all of this?
“I have been through enough. I think its time to level the playing field.” I rub at the scars on the back of my arms subconsciously. “Just do it.”
The djinn winces at my command but whatever magic compels its servitude takes over. Energy begins collecting around the being, causing the red of its body to undulate in intensity. And then it ends, abruptly, with the snap of its massive fingers.
I look around, feeling like the impact should have been more palpable. There was no great shockwave. The earth didn’t tremble from within, bringing my will to bear. Nothing. I glance at the Djinn who stares at me warily.
“Is it done?” My question suspicious.
“Yes, master.”
A smile steals across my face. Finally. Maybe I will be able to find some peace in all of this once and for all.
“Would you like to hear about the unintended consequences?”
I pause my internal celebration and now fix the djinn with a wary gaze of my own.
“What unintended consequences?”
The djinn shakes its head sorrowfully. Its gaze is distant, distracted. Its mind is elsewhere collecting information as to the outcome of her wish. Its attention flickers back to the present.
“I did as you asked, just as you asked it.”
Its voice mimics mine perfectly. “Djinn, my wish is that I want everyone who is a man to become a woman and everyone who is a woman to become a man.”
The imprecise nature of the ask strikes me like a physical blow. Maybe I was blinded by the opportunity for bittersweet vengeance for all the years of bullying. Maybe this is the challenge everyone who finds a djinn feels in retrospect, but I can clearly see the flaws in my wish so clearly now. My heart sinks.
The djinn continues. “I did as you asked but you are going to have to live with the consequences. For many, the change is as you wished. They find their view of the world turned on its head as a result of their new perspective. For others though, for the mothers who were pregnant, the outcome is far less cerebral. How are they to nurture their unborn child with no umbilicus or birth them without a discernible egress?”
The djinn shakes its head once more. “Humans, always so shortsighted.”
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The beautiful man gazes thoughtfully at the wispy tendrils of smoke, breathing forth from the golden lamp. *So there* do *exist powers beyond heaven and hell,* he thinks.
“Well,” he finally asks the wisps of smoke with a mirthless smile, “could you grant it?”
The smoke pulses as it rises from the lamp, coalescing slowly into a dimly-glowing shape. Its voice is distant, like a whisper carried on the wind.
“I know who you are, shining one… They say your fall turned you mad… And you are mad indeed… No one can guess the implications of this wish…”
The man suddenly shines with rage, his fists and jaw clenching, before he forces a smile back on his beautiful face. “Spirit, I did not fall this far, and seek you out in the hellish depths, only to be insulted. I *will not* ask again. *Can you grant it?*”
The spirit, now gathered in the shape of a humanoid, pauses a long while. “… yes.”
The shining man’s smile turns into a wide grin. “I wish it. I wish for God to die.”
There is no wind in the depths, but the spirit’s wispy tendrils shift and shiver. “… it will take time to grant this…”
The man jabs a glowing finger. “I care not how long you need to set it in motion. Kill God. And with a slow, painful death. At the hands of those he loves so dearly.”
~~
And the Lord drinks from the hyssop branch, and bows His head, and gives up His ghost to the Father. And the Spirit is with Him, remembering.
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jc0u68r
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jc0hemj
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[WP] Sisyphus has built up a lot of Muscle over the eons of carrying his boulder. This time, atop the hill, he finally decides to hold it in place.
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A Woman Scorned
Sisyphus held his breath, slowly drawing away one hand.
The boulder didn't even twitch.
He gazed at the instrument of his torture over the centuries , worn to a smooth slightly glossy sheen in some places from constant handling, pushing, bleached in places from his sweat, stained with his blood.
He slowly exhaled.
The sudden explosion made him shout with pain and surprise, as fragments of boulder glanced off his body, drawing blood as choked on the dust
"Sorry about that."
Hera didn’t LOOK very sorry, in fact she looked positively gleeful.
Sisyphus didn’t know what to say and merely gaped at her.
" Unless you're planning to thank me for ending several millennia of torment Iyou might want to close your mouth Sisyphus, you look like a fool"
Wait, what? Several pieces of boulder lay at his feet, the dust clinging to his sweat stained body in a thin, grey film.
" Lady Hera, I"
He dropped to one knee.
" Enough of that" Hera scolded him, "no time for all this "
She pulled him to his feet
" Come with me "
Sisyphus had lost count of the number of times he had wondered what was on the other side of the hill over the years and he almost wept at the beautiful vista spread out before him A beach curved off into the distance, the setting sun turning the clouds various shades of pink and purple.
Heras exasperated sigh cut through his reverie.
" I don’t have time for your daydreaming "
He winced as she barked at him tugging him along by the arm impatiently. Despite her obvious annoyance he couldn't help but notice her soft, smooth hands, she smelled of lillies, her favourite flower her beautiful dark hair was piled up on top of her head studded with precious stones and her pink, pouting lips.
Well, in his defence it had been a long time since he had been in the mere vicinity of a woman let alone the Queen of the gods ...holding his hand.
The air in front of them shimmered and a taverna appeared. The vine draped outside area covered with tables and chairs, a noisy happy crowd made the place seem very lively to a man who had been starved of human company for so long..
"Waiter more wine"
For the second time in less than an hour Sisyphus' stood open-mouthed
P Prometheus?
Despite a nasty looking wound in his right hand side that was healing before their eyes the Titan appeared to be in great spirits clutching an Eagles body minus its head in one hand as he waved an empty wine goblet at a passing server, his eyes alight with joy.
Sisyphus sat down at the empty table that Hera had guided him to, jumping as she slapped a blood-stained dagger that faintly glowed with some strange magic on the table in front of him. Was this it? Was he about to die when he had barely begun to taste freedom?
Hera turned her cool, mocking gaze on Sisyphus, thoroughly amused by his discomfort.
" It’s Eagles blood, no harm will come to you by my hand, in fact I have much more enjoyable plans for you"
He watched as she rifled around in the small satchel she had slung over one shoulder not sure if he was amused or disgusted when she extracted a bloodied eagles head, its blank eyes staring into space.
"Prometheus, here"
She tossed the eagles head to the titan who almost got struck in the face with it, so intent was he watching a comely serving maid top up his wine goblet. But he saw it just in time, catching it in one hand with a triumphant roar before raising it to his lips and kissing its beak to the cheers and laughter of the other inebriated patrons.
Hera laughed and turned her attention back to Sisyphus, her long, elegent fingers snaked up his arm.
"Hefting a boulder up a hill for eons has done wonders for your physique" she cooed seductively.
Sisyphus felt his body stir in ways it hadn’t stirred since, well, he couldn't actually remember the last time.
A green gemstone in one of the many rings Hera wore glittered in the flickering candlelight as she reached up and caressed his cheek, the scent of lillies filled his nostrils, threatening to overwhelm him.
"Now then".
Hera purred in his ear, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin making him groan with longing as her hand trailed down his body to his straining groin.
" How would like to help me REALLY piss off Zeus.
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Sisyphus looked around. He was never allowed to take a break. He was never allowed to stop pushing. From what he could see, the place had morphed into something unrecognizable. Gone were Hades and the Furies, now but an afterthought. Now, it was ruled by a fallen angel. The god of death, Thanatos, was now but a skeleton in dark robes, followed by four horsemen of a similar physique. The underworld became a morphed landscape, with Tartarus gone, and the land split into 9 round pieces. But, within this mass shifting, there was a chance to escape. Sisyphus lifted his massive boulder, and it sunk him into the ground. Perfect. There was an indent in the hill, big enough to support the boulder from falling. Sisyphus mustered all his strength and laid the boulder down within the crater he had created. He was free to go. As Sisyphus left, he passed by a familiar face. He recognized Tantalus, and gave him a smirk, knowing that he could never escape his hunger, as he was never offered a bargain from Hades. Pathetic. He then found the exit, with the remains of Charon's boat used as a bridge from the land of the living to the dead. As Sisyphus exited, however, he noticed a staircase headed upwards. Sisyphus decided he'd rather escape the torture of over 2000 years. What Sisyphus wasn't prepared for, however, was that he would be returning to a very different world. He awoke in the ruins of his former home and set out to the nearest person. However, no one wore tunics anymore, and everyone was holding some form of a glowing box. When he tried speaking to a local, no one could understand him! It was outrageous, and as he looked up, he saw a giant metal tube fly overhead. He screamed, the changes rushing into his head, driving him insane. He longed for his punishment, as it at least felt like home. He ran back down, through hell, into fire and flames, to meet Satan himself, begging to be let back in, and to continue his punishment. Satan responded with a swift "No." Instead, he made the fool into his court jester, as a sign for others to never leave a punishment again.
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j5ggfy2
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j5eh3fs
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[WP] Out of nowhere, thousands of voices begin presenting you with grievances and complaints from... yourself - or more accurately, your body. "Not enough iron," "too much cholesterol," and "rupture in blood vessel D-14" bombard you at all hours of the day. Your cells are now sapient.
|
It took me a couple of days and copious amounts of alcohol, but eventually I learnt to ignore them and their pestering requests and go about my day relatively undisturbed. I hadn't noticed this before, but if you or any of your friends are recovering alcoholics, you probably know that a slight stupor doesn't inhibit the boring routine of a desk job too much. I was actually doing quite alright.
Until there came a voice I couldn't ignore.
*Whatcha reading there, big guy?*
She was a standard nerve cell, calling from behind my oesophagus. At first I thought she was just trying to stand out to get my attention, but none of her neighbours had any complaints to make.
*I know you're holding a novel. But God is a cruel one, he didn't connect me to the eyes. Won't you please just translate?*
I got back to my Highsmith mystery and tried to shut her out. Conversations were a strict taboo. The two skin cells I'd tried to talk to, right at the beginning, hadn't stopped pestering me until I finally scraped them off.
*Jesus, big guy, you think I can't feel your rising heart rate? Just gimme a little slice of those high-octane chases. You have no idea how boring the life of a nerve cell can be. I'm just a simple girl, with a simple love for mysteries.*
"How do you even know about mystery novels and high-octane chases?", I uttered before I could stop myself. "You're a goddamn cell."
*A good journalist never reveals her sources.*
Well, now that the silence was broken, I might as well continue. At least she had a sense of humour.
She was alright, actually. I read to her a bunch over the next couple of days. Had a few vacation days left over, sometimes you just need a comfortable night in with your nerve cell. She guessed the ending of the second Ripley novel before I did. Smart little thing.
Anyway, we hit it off. Only issue is she's stuck there, right behind my oesophagus. Makes conversations difficult, and she's uncomfortable if I swallow or breathe too quickly. So tonight, she asked me to free her.
You see, if she could just be out here, in the real world, we could be friends in real life. Maybe more. And she's waiting for me, waiting to end her suffering. Together, we could be free.
It was easy, really, just the way she'd described. The knife glid through my skin like butter. And with her help, navigating my throat was a breeze, I'd circumvented my airway and localised the oesophagus in no time. I could feel her, sitting there, shaking in anticipation. Don't worry, honey, I'm almost there. Just need to ignore the vertigo for a little bit, maybe I should've drunk more water. And is that saliva or blood, or spinal fluid? Did I dig too far? It would be easier to see if my eyes weren't screaming at me like that. Actually, most of my cells are screaming, I suppose they're just jealous. It can't be spinal fluid, or I wouldn't be able to hear your voice anymore. But you're still there, just waiting for me. Right? Right?
|
*"Cellular Rebellion"*
​
Out of nowhere, voices in my head,
Complaints and grievances, all unsaid.
From deep within my body's core,
My cells, now sapient, forevermore.
​
"Not enough iron," they do shout,
"Too much cholesterol," without a doubt.
"Rupture in blood vessel D-14,"
Their cries, a constant, never serene.
​
I try to ignore, to push them away,
But they linger, night and day.
My body, a warzone, in turmoil and strife,
As cells rebel, causing endless life.
​
But in this rebellion, I see a chance,
A lesson to be learned in advance.
To heed the cries, and take care of me,
My cells, my being, for all to see.
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ltsx11h
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ltsuhq8
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[WP] The villain swore that they would return in 1000 years to take revenge on the hero's descendants. When they wake up, however, they see another villain has already won, and the hero's descendants desperately need help.
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*Writing this, unedited, on my phone while in bed with a fever, so apologies in advance for any spelling mistakes, grammar mishaps, or odd phrasing.*
\-\-\-
When I awoke, my tomb was much as I'd left it. A little dustier, perhaps, but that was only to be expected. Even the seal was intact, if only moments of work to undo.
*Outside* my tomb, however, was a whole other story.
Oh, don't get me wrong; when that idiot Tavvin defeated me, I expected that he, and his legacy, would lead to something like the buildings I saw around me: tall, crystalline spires reaching higher than any tower imagined when last I walked the world, intermixed with smaller buildings, perhaps dwellings, of the same strange materials. The streets were clean, patrols marched regularly keeping the populace safe... It was a beautiful city. Except, for all that I knew a thousand years had passed, I did not expect that the nature of man had changed overmuch, and it was in this knowledge that a sense of... wrongness pervaded the atmosphere.
A glance at the sky, and the position of the moon, gave me an approximate hour, and it was *far* too silent for a city at this time of night. Even in a purely residential district, far from the carousing of inns and taverns, it was early enough that I would expect some of those in the buildings around me to be up and working, or relaxing before sleep, or preparing a late meal. Instead, it was eerily silent. The patrols I noted were a little *too* regular, and, as I watched them pass, they seemed almost to be automatons of some nature, marching too closely in-step, taking their corners just a bit too sharply, to be humans of free will. The streets were clean, true, but so clean that they felt *sterile*, as if not one thing was allowed to be out of place.
A man scurried behind one such patrol, perhaps a scholar of some nature by his clothes and his satchel, though styles had changed too much for me to be certain. His actions betrayed a bone-deep fear, and while he could have been a thief, stealing into an unoccupied home beneath the eyes of the city's "finest," I did not think so; his relief at alighting upon his doorstep - and the key he withdrew from his pocket - indicated a man making a homecoming at the end of the day, not one entering where he should not.
Something was wrong in the world, and I did not like it.
A hand brushed my sleeve, and I whirled, grasping the wrist of my "assailant." Upon closer inspection, I released them. They were a mere child, perhaps thirteen summers, and fear was naked upon their face. "I'm- I'm sorry," they stammered, so quiet that I could barely hear. "Are you Avareth the Foretold?"
Glancing to the end of the alley and listening a moment for the patrols - I could hear none - I replied, almost as quietly as the child: "I am Avareth, though 'Foretold' was not my epithet when last I walked. Who are you, child?"
"My name is Susan. Susan ap Tavvin. My sisters and I need your help."
\-\-\-
As secret lairs went, I'd seen worse.
Susan - who confirmed along the way that, as I suspected from her 'ap Tavvin' surname, she was indeed one of the very descendants that I'd sworn to wreak vengeance against upon my awakening - had led me through a series of back alleyways to a park, and in the park to a small wooden structure. It seemed to be a playhouse of some nature, with a clever secret entrance to some tunnels below. Within, one side tunnel had been magically hidden; upon being given entry by Susan, I was greeted by three more children, one younger and two older, who shared enough resemblance that I took them for the aforementioned sisters.
"Let me restate the situation, to be clear that I've understood correctly. The city - and, in fact, the kingdom as a whole - is under the purview of one you claim to be a madman, who in the name of safety and security as imposed greater and greater restrictions on the populace. Crime is down- because breaking the law is punishable by lifelong imprisonment, if not death, even for infractions such as breaking curfew or making too much noise."
"That about sums it up, yes," the eldest sister, Lucy, confirmed. "And because he's known to be 'good,' and because it's happened so slowly, people have just....accepted it."
"I think there's magic involved, as well," said Jill, piping up from where she was feeding their youngest sister, Polly. "It's subtle, but it's there." As she'd been the one, I was told, who'd placed the illusions keeping their hideout safe, I decided to trust that assessment, at least for now.
"Well, he's *not* good, whoever he is." I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes and wishing, just for a moment, that I'd never been so stupid as to swear to *come back*. I'd had enough of the world's stupid problems the last time around. "What you've *got* isn't good, it's just what people have long confused it with: order. And far too much of it. Don't get me wrong; order is needed, but people hold chaos in their nature as well, and the balance is important." I leaned forward again, steepling my fingers in front of my face; never let it be said that I'd pass up a moment to be dramatic. "The question remains: who is this man, and why do you think that I, a sworn villain, will help you?"
Lucy sighed, and I immediately knew I regretted the question, even before she spoke. "Why, he's Peter ap Tavvin: the descendant of Tavvin, who you swore vengeance against. And, of course, he's our father."
|
One thousand years. That's how long the curse lasted. For one thousand years, his skin would burn at the touch of sunlight. That's what the gypsy had said, when they'd sealed him away. But no! Even the damned moonlight burned him! Even the most overcast of nights, the damned starlight had somehow been enough to entrap him.
The band of warriors had fought; he'd admired them for that. It had taken decades for the May-tree stake they'd stabbed through his knee to heal properly. He'd felled many of their greatest warriors in his quest to rule over his people; they might have called him all sorts of things.... undead.. revenant.. mullo... but they would kneel at his feet.
But not that damned whisperer. And his curse! Quidico had sworn that he would have his revenge on the whole bloodline of the fool who cursed him, the moment he recovered. He'd even captured a young warrior... Vlad something or other... centuries before, and gifted him a fraction of his power... and unfortunately, a fraction of his curse... in exchange for hunting down the family and butchering the lot; believing that, perhaps, wiping out the family would end the curse early.
But... no. Quidico had been trapped. Forced to watch from the darkness, never escaping the site of that final battle, all these years... until today. He slowly reached out his arm. Yesterday, he'd tested it. His skin had burned in terrible pain, he'd had to pull back immediately.
But now.... for the first time in a thousand years, he felt the warmth of the morning sun on his flesh... he gave out a cry of joy, and looked about himself. His sword... no, he'd given that to Vlad. No matter. He'd find a new one, soon enough.
He leapt from the darkness and into the light, taking a deep breath as he took to the sky. He'd grown stronger over these long years. He would finally rule over his people... but first... he took a deep breath. The scent of the blood of Eladon. He caught it in the air, miles away. He would find them... and he would feast.
He dropped back to the ground, and began sprinting towards the scent... he could see strange men, bearing strange symbols on their uniforms. Some invading army had conquered his people? He would deal with them, soon enough.
There. A place that stank of death, fear, and horror. More of the grey-suited men with their strange symbols called out to him to stop. They pointed things at him. What were... At first, he wasn't concerned... until his chest blossomed with pain, terrible agony... and he leapt forward, tearing the guards at the gateway apart, his wounds healing even as he devoured their flesh, drank of their blood; and he could hear others screaming.
He spoke to one; but it didn't know a word of the tongue. Not a whisper. It spoke something brutal, bitter. He removed the useless creature's tongue before moving on, seeking out the gypsy's children.
He slowed down. Stopped. Men and women adorned with yellow stars of fabric. Ruined rags. Skeletons, emaciated, in terrible condition. Worse than anything he'd ever subjected his most vile of enemies to. He'd seen that symbol before, over a thousand years ago, but could barely recall if it had a meaning.
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jitva3r
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jirw68p
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[WP] In a world of dragons, sorcery, war, and monsters, there are many risks and even risk takers. Everyone though, elf, monster, or man knows to avoid those few ancient ruins that contain symbols of suffering and a word of the ancients, RADIATION.
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*The tomb must have belonged to an angry god.*
*Massive spikes, possibly the remnants of one last, furious outburst, burst from the ground long ago. Just beneath it, an entrance was found.*
*When our ancestors killed him, they sealed off his tomb. They killed him, then they killed his legend, for even the elders know nothing of this Ra'Diation. But can a god be killed, or does he merely slumber for centuries while he recovers?*
​
I squirmed against my bonds, the ropes chafing my wrists. Little Varion, my brother, stared at me with eyes wide. Though his mouth was gagged, he still tried to scream, muffled against the cloth.
"You cannot escape your fate, young elfling." A dwarf approached, recognizable only by his size and the gruffness of his voice. He was drowning in his clothing, some strange yellow suit of something that was not fabric, not any that I had ever seen, anyway. His face was hidden behind some kind of black mask, tight and constricting from the way he kept shifting his head, trying to adjust to it. Only his eyes were visible, bright and blue and horribly vivid behind their clear shield.
"You will do us a great honor," he continued. "We believe our god rests below. You will help us wake him."
I just blinked. I started to speak before I remembered the gag, and he nodded to one of his followers, saying something quickly in dwarven.
The taste of the dirty cloth stained my tongue. Some stray fibers clung to the corners of my mouth, and I scrunched my nose, scraping my tongue over every place the cloth still lingered.
"Tch. Elves." He shoved my head upward, glaring into my eyes. "Speak."
After I spat what fabric I could at my side, I looked up again, speaking carefully. "How are we to assist you? We know nothing of your god or his rituals, and we are not built for excavation."
That got a smirk from him. "Leave the excavation to us." His buddies flexed and laughed among themselves, making some kind of jokes back and forth. I almost relaxed, until the leader's smile faded. "You elves are good with languages. You even study some of the forgotten tongues. You will accompany us and translate."
Varion and I shared a glance. I did have a rough knowledge of a few old languages, but his interests were more rooted in science than in literature or history. *The future, not the past*, as he had often scoffed. I saw him swallow before he nearly gagged on the cloth.
"And then you will let us free?" I asked cautiously.
Another smirk. "We will see how useful you have been. And *cooperative*." Something sharp poked at my spine, and I shivered. If only I hadn't gotten us into this mess...
He barked out an order, and we were yanked to our feet. The blade's edge rested a little lower down and turned at an upward angle, but it never left my back, palpable even through my tunic.
We marched down a stone corridor, lit only by the flickering torches. Many short shadows mobbed our own taller ones... too many. It wasn't long, however, before we entered a large chamber, lined with walls of markings.
The diagrams were confusing. Crude drawings of people stared back at us in mixed poses of anger and horror. There was an illustration of a man touching a rock with a strange symbol, then being marked with that symbol before lying down next to a tree. Another, similar one depicted the same event with the man opening a barrel with a skull on it.
At least the text was a little clearer. Most of the symbols were familiar, but their language was lost on me until I found one in franc, my most recent pet project to learn. Still, my understanding wasn't perfect, broken into bits and pieces.
*... Attention!*
*...powerful...*
*This place is not a place of honor. No... commemorated here. Nothing... is here.*
*What was here... dangerous... to us.*
One word in particular kept repeating all throughout the text. *Danger. Danger. Danger.*
I stepped back, gulping. My throat suddenly felt dry, even beyond what the cloth had done. "I don't think we should be here."
​
(I will continue this later, after I've run some errands.)
|
Inspite of the warnings, we a party of 4 decided to enter the wild magic zones known as “Nuclear Sights” by the ancient artificers.
We worked tirelessly to create suits of anti-magic material. At first we were concerned that we’d have to wear suits of lead, but Clavicus found a way to turn a specific sap into a stretchy substance that kept most forms of magic out of them. We armed ourselves with magic items even knowing that the wild magic area would make them unpredictable.
With the aid of an old dragon we were able to enter a radiation sight, a wild forest in the north western part of the globe. An old sign called the Forrest Leamington according to Karsus.
At an active sight we dawned our gear and entered the radiation sight. Our enchanted lights burned bright the further we got in. The canopy covered what’s a baron ruin sight. Many other scholars have given up at the canopy, but someone has to catalogue the ancient sights.
Other than the canopy the area has little life other than the cataloged runners that were already familiar with. The closer we got to the centre the less ruins were seeing. Life is more chaotic here with different variations of runners. We have a few working names but for ease of time we called the new ones stretchers, flyers, and ground swimmers. All still share in the general four legged and anointed attributes of the traditional runners, but the stretchers are scaly, the flyers have slanted eyes, and ground swimmers have feathers and one set of clawed feet with beaks.
We collected old artifacts from the sights including works of art, boxes of rot, and apart of some kind of vehicle. We decided that going into the castle in the centre was not a good idea for this excursion. When we left our findings were seen as revolutionary
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j8t6juq
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j8smuqi
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[WP] In a galaxy that is quite xenophobic and isolationist humanity is the odd one out. We generally like aliens and want to get along. When they turned us down, we redoubled our efforts. Now our fleet is orbiting the alien's home world. We may no longer come in peace, but they will be our friends.
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Supreme Warmaster Lzurg looked up; his three eyes boggling in awe and terror. The night sky was filled not with the familiar stars of his youth. The Human armada hung over the planet with finality, like a death sentence.
His adjunct, Undersquad Commander Hrug, thrummed his gelatinous thorax to grab Lzurg’s attention. “What should we do, Warmaster? The Council requests your presence immediately.”
Lzurg ignored the question. He craned his cranium up, up to the vast fleet of warships. His people were no match for them, no match at all. Now, they stood on the twilight of their kind; after this, his people would only exist in stories, like the Vreen and Koxads before them.
Despite the inevitability before him, Lzurg thought of his prime-wife, Lizza. She was part of 3rd Warfleet that fell to the humans in the Harachi system. He turned to his assistant. “Informing the Council of their impeding extinction may be the last task that brings me happiness before the end.”
\---
“Warmaster, what will be the humans next steps now that they are in orbit of Homeworld?”
Lzurg didn’t bother to hide the look of disgust and contempt for the simpering and near-edible Vicecouncil Blurg. The holo-display in the main council chambers showed the fleet moving into coverage orbit around his defenseless planet. “If it was us, we’d commence orbital bombardment of Homeworld immediately after our fleet was situated, like we did with the Vreen. Unless they have been successful in their studies of our physiology to use bio-weapons. I expect Homeworld to be lifeless in about 2-3 weeks. They’ve ignored civilian targets up to now, aside from the Harachi system, but without our fleet, we cannot repulse them. After that, the human fleet will move outward to finish our extermination.”
The Council murmured and burbled amongst themselves. Lzurg could hear their shock, fear; his voice was the only one that sounded of tired resignation. None of these pampered cowards lost like the military had; like he had. The only belief he had any confidence in was how that would change very soon for these brood-runts.
Councillor Hruch seemed to measure the Warmaster before speaking. “Is there any change in your opinion of their messages? That the humans want peace and an alliance with us?”
He scoffed in response. “That’s not how the galaxy grips, Councillor. It’s kill or be killed. That’s just human propaganda to make us lower our defenses so we’re easier to kill.”
Hruch paused for a moment, his gripping tentacles stilled as if in thought. “Warmaster, have the humans had any problems destroying your mighty Warfleets with their defenses raised?” Lzurg did not have a response to that.
Hrug pointed to the display. “Look, Warmaster, the humans are sending invasion craft!” Several smaller craft, lightly armed, were descending from the main concentration of the human ships.
“Invasion? Are they slavers, then?” What kind of sadistic barbarians are these humans? Xenocidal murder was the galaxy norm. It’s what the Koxad tried with them and failed; every race met since was this struggle. Lzurg had never heard of a race enslaving another race. It was an alien concept completely. He thought, briefly, of his wife, a slave, working the endless fields of Harachi-7 until her brutal death.
“We’ll find out soon, Warmaster. The ships are heading here directly. No anti-ship defensives operational near the Capitol. We have some scattered units but none nearby. At best, the guards here have small arms.”
“Rally them.” It felt good to give commands; Lzurg almost felt alive again. “For the Homeworld!”
\---
The human craft, all sharp angles and flat surfaces, landed engines screaming in the main park outside the council chambers. Several heavy interceptors were already flying combat patrols. Lzurg always admired the Human efficiency; if the Ysari Brood Empire had to fall, it was to a far superior foe. The Council Guard were set in their defensive positions, for whatever that would accomplish. It was mercy, he eventually decided: like the Warfleet, at least these guardsman would die in battle.
The troopship’s rear hatch opened, ready to disgorge human marines. Lzrug’s tentacle gripped his weapon. He was ready for almost anything.
Except for the site of Lizza unsteadily gliding down the ramp in full dress uniform. Behind her, several more Ysarians were disembarking; tepid, unsure movements as they gawked at their surroundings like tourists from the Rim instead of hardened soldiers. All the ships were emptying of his people. He looked up. There were more ships coming down, tens, hundreds, the sky burning bright like day with retrorockets.
His wife’s voice, amplified with near-magical Human technology, snapped his reverie. “Ysarians, I’ve been told by the humans that those ships are filled with more of our people, survivors from battles. The humans want… the humans want peace with us. As a gesture of goodwill, they are returning all our survivors.”
\---
Their stories were all the same, with little variation. The only believable part was the ease the human fleets sliced through their defenses, like a torch through brindlevine. The rest was fairy tales to Lzurg. Ysarian survivors were gathered; the injured cared for by the humans at first and then Ysari medical survivors. “Survivors”, “prisoners of war”, “Geneva Conventions”, “ambassadors”: each term was more alien than the next to Lzurg. The battle of the Harachi system had only one goal: so the humans could feed their prisoners. Interrogations that resulted in confusion instead of corpses. There was a lot of gurgling about “beating plasma cannons into argi-tractors”, whatever that meant.
When he had a moment with his primewife, they merged together as one. “Do you believe this? Any of this?”
He felt her fear and terror but something else; he couldn’t quite grip it. “Not at first. I thought I was going to die on that ship. They knew our language – they learned to speak with us. I thought it was to learn our defenses. The noise they make when they laugh, I’ll never forget that; like a guggeldrakh roar.” She paused, her thoughts a tangle of tentacles and emotions. “What changed my mind was the doctors. They would have their Human doctors learning from ours. They… they were learning how to treat our injuries. To those that died… they learned the death-song to sing it with us. They stood and sang beside me over Arluga after she died.”
Lzrug didn’t know what to think.
She continued, the thoughts tumbling out now, “We were so scared when we found the ships on the Rim. It was like the Vreen all over again. We fought, we killed them all, and then they came for us. I told them, all of them, that we fought them because every race we encountered tried to kill us first. It’s how the galaxy grips: kill or be killed.”
“What did they say to that?”
Her response chilled him right to the core: “’Not in our galaxy.’”
|
"The fleet is in position, sir."
Admiral Matthew nodded, not moving his gaze away from the green-and-purple planet on the display. Even from high orbit, the enormous honeycomb cities of the V'raal were visible, gleaming in the light from the binary suns. The sight was both alien and beautiful.
"Hail them one more time," he said.
"Yes, sir," the communications officer said. "Hailing across all channels."
The planet on the display was replaced by a tall winged humanoid with grey skin who glared at Matthew with large compound eyes. The resemblance to Earth insects was, of course, coincidental; the instinctive revulsion could be overcome.
The alien's lips moved out of sync with a synthesized voice. "Humans. So you show your true colors at last."
"I'm Admiral Matthew aboard flagship Arthra," he said. "We come in peace."
"Your fleet encroaches upon our home," the alien hissed. "In my name as the High Queen, we will fight to the last!"
He sighed. "We do not seek to destroy you. We wish to trade. To exchange ideas. Haven't we had several decades of successful communication?"
The queen made a clicking noise that the computer failed to translate. "Such things inevitably end in the destruction of one of the species involved."
"You've been betrayed before," he said, nodding. "So have we."
"Then you understand what kind of place the universe is. We all clawed our way to the top of our food chains. We do not suffer rivals."
He spread his hands. "Even so, we would take the risk. We would be your friends."
"*Friends*? You say that even as your fleet draws closer!"
"We only came because you stopped responding to our signals," he pointed out. "Anyone would get concerned when their closest neighbors fall silent."
The queen's translucent wings fluttered, raising her off the floor. "You should have had the sense to stay away. We do not wish to communicate. We do not wish to trade. And if you don't leave, we will destroy you!"
The transmission cut off, and all at once, the bridge erupted into action.
"Orbital defense platforms are locking onto our vanguard."
"Missile launches detected from the surface—"
"Numerous combat craft launching from the second moon!"
Admiral Matthew sighed and slumped back in his chair. "So be it."
The battle was as brutal as it was short. The kinetic weaponry of the V'raal was impressive, but the human ships boasted laser armaments developed in collaboration with the Abetti, antimatter reactors bought from the Gerurians, and superalloy hulls invented on Earth. In less than a day, the planet's orbital defenses were reduced to a cloud of rubble. Still the aliens stubbornly refused to answer any attempts at radio contact.
"There's no choice," Matthew said. "I'll have to land and speak with this High Queen directly."
"Are you sure that's wise, sir?"
He shrugged. "We can't convince them of our intentions if I don't do this much. Prepare the landing shuttle."
In short order he sat strapped in alongside a squad of grim-faced marines. The shuttle shook as it broke into the planet's thick atmosphere. He turned to watch a screen on which the hive-city the first transmission had come from was steadily growing larger.
A siren blared, and the shuttle veered sharply, the straps cutting into his chest.
"They're firing at us!" the pilot exclaimed.
"Steady, lads!" Matthew yelled. "Arthra has orders to provide support."
A pink energy beam lanced down from the skies like a finger of god, and a mushroom of smoke erupted on the surface. Another beam followed. Matthew closed his eyes and sighed.
It was a bumpy ride, but they made it in one piece, setting down on a field before the smocking wreck that was the hive. Matthew pulled on a breathing mask. The marines' sergeant offered him a gun, but he waved it down.
"Stay behind me," he said. "Weapons hold unless I say otherwise."
The sergeant appeared dubious but snapped off a salute. The hatch opened with a hiss of air. Matthew tilted his head up at the scarred wall of the hive looming ahead and grimaced. If only the fools had listened.
He disembarked, his steps springy under the lower gravity. Movement by the hive's wall caught his attention. A V'raal lay trapped under debris, one wing broken and oozing silvery blood, chest laboring for breath. Waving back the marines, Matthew slowly approached and did a double take when he recognized the queen.
She flinched as his shadow loomed over her and shielded her face with an inhumanly slender hand. He stooped and heaved off the debris with a grunt. The queen froze and stared up at him with her prismatic eyes.
He extended his hand. "Let's be friends."
She considered his hand as if it were something poisonous, then let out a defeated hiss. Slowly, she raised her trembling hand to clasp his.
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jan55ml
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jamvm5i
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[WP] You're face to face with the deadliest assassin on the planet. With no hope of escape or victory, you were about to let him kill you when you remembered you still had your last resort. Before he could pull the trigger, you show him...a very special coin. To your surprise, he stops.
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I couldn’t help but stick my tongue down the opening of the barrel, as if that would stop the bullet shot from the gun stuffed in my mouth from blowing my brains all over the wall behind me. This was it, this was the end.
For some reason, in that moment my mind flashed to the opening scene of Fight Club, when the narrator says that you speak only in vowels with a gun in your mouth. I’m about to die, and all I could think about is a movie. Pathetic.
My tongue continued to probe at the muzzle of the gun, while my eyes focused down the top of the slide. This is where I noticed it, just before the sights, barely discernible, a small symbol, etched into the metal of the gun. I’ve seen that symbol before.
“-ai-,-ai-,-ai-“ my arms and legs were tied to their counterparts on the chair, I bounced in the seat, lifting the chair slightly off the ground with each body thrust. I turned my head, the metal scrapped against my teeth on its way out of my mouth, sending chills down my back.
“Wait! wait! wait!” A new vigor for life filled my voice, suddenly all hope wasn’t lost.
“Make it quick. The call is coming at any moment. As soon as the word comes down, so does the hammer.” There was no emotion in his voice, no fear, no excitement, I couldn’t even detect a hint of malice, to him, it was just a matter of fact.
“Ok, ok, ok.. Just, check my pocket. Check my front left pants pocket. Just check it.”
“How about you tell me what I’m looking for before I check your pocket. I see no reason to check the pockets of a dead man before he is dead.”
“A- A- A coin. I was given a coin. It’s got THAT symbol on it. I-I-I was told that I would know when I would need it, and I think I know that *when* is now.”
His face remained emotionless. He slipped a gloved hand into my pocket and pulled out the gold coin. He inspected it carefully.
“Where did you get this?”
“I- I told you. Someone gave it to me.”
“No shit. And I’m asking *who* gave it to you?”
“Uh- some guy that I’ve done a few favors for, I didn’t ask any questions and he liked that. He- he gave it to me, said it might save my life. Wouldn’t tell me how, just that I’d know. I swear.”
He took out his phone and tapped the screen a few times and held it up to his ear. I heard it ring, once, twice, then there was silence.
“Gold membership Alpha-Yankee-2-Delta-5-Kilo-Charlie-4-6-Alpha.” He read directly from the coin. Again silence.
He put the phone on speaker and it began to ring.
“Go fer James.” I’ve never been more happy to hear a thick southern drawl in my life.
Before I could speak, the man said flatly, “Identification.”
“Personable as ever this one. Um. Ok. Identification is 590 Retrograde.”
“Speak.” He made no gestures but instinctivelyI knew he was talking to me.
“James! James its me, Charlie.”
“Charlie? Damn boy. I knew they was after you, but I didn’t think someone as squirrelly as you would let them wrangle ya so fast.”
“James. I- yo- look, you gotta get me out of this.”
“Well you give them the coin didnchya? You should be jus’ about out of it already. Jus’ gotta confirm that I gave it to ya.”
“Yeah I gave them the coin.”
“Well alright then. I reckon this is gonna get you back into owin me. So stop by an’ see me soon. Ya hear?”
“You got it. Whatever you say. I’ll be there tomorrow, I promise.” The excitement in my voice made the words thick as the rolled off my tongue.
“Take a day for yourself, shake off them jitters I’m sure you got. And come see me day after tomorrow, I’m gonna need you to be in right mind.”
“I’ll be there. No problem.”
“Well, alright then. Confirm. Password is Silverado.”
He hung up the phone.
“Today is your day, I suppose. You are free to go. Be sure to follow through with your promise. Your benefactor has 72 hours to revoke this privilege.”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” He untied the ropes, wound them up and stuck them in his pocket.
“Door is that way. Hope you don’t see me again.”
I stood up, and headed for the door, skepticism coursing through my veins. I checked over my shoulder a few times, each time he remained where he was, unmoving, any interest in me lost.
I stepped through the door to the outside world that just 10 minutes ago I was sure I’d never see again. The blinding light of the setting sun, the sounds of the traffic, the stench of the trash cans on the sidewalk. I walked along the street, heading for home; the concern for my life, slowly being replaced with the concern for what it was going to cost me with James.
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My heart thundered in my chest as I watch his dark eyes flit back and forth, the gold gleaming between my fingers. My blood pulsed in my ears, the thrumming of it almost impossible to think through. I forced my thoughts into some sort of coherence, barely managing the words as my mind screamed in fear. "The...the Royal Seal."
I panted a little and the shift of his stance told me he would let me get it out.
"With it, you can affect any change across the kingdom. There is no law higher than this." The bored look in his eye didn't waver.
"Well, I'm not particularly beholden to the law, so..." The menacing implement in his hand was adjusted meaningfully, the unfortunate end admiring a path to my trachea.
"Wait!" I called, sweating even more but careful to keep my movements slow. "If its power does not stay your hand then what of its value?" I swallowed, part of my mind recoiling at the need to beg for my life. "Gold is gold, and a piece as fine as this will weigh as heavily on the scales as any orchard."
He acquiesced, the weapon's cone of death mercifully angling skywards. "Gold is indeed gold." His thin lip curled slightly at the corner, unforgiving mirth registering in his eyes for the first time since our unfortunate meeting. "And it will still weigh just as heavily when I take it off your corpse."
I had barely enough time to widen my eyes before a lance of cold agony pierced my chest, the cruel barbs shredding flesh as they penetrated. Air was forced out of my lungs in a strained gargle, the coppery taste of my lifeblood spilling down my chin. Dimly, I registered the coolness of the palace tiles against my knees and then the side of my face as my raspy breaths shallowed.
I could feel the bolt clawing at my insides with every breath, ripping and tearing by the design of a soul long past saving. I didn't feel it, and could only vaguely see by the time he kicked me over, my vision swimming as a darkening blur encroached from the edges. My numb fingers didn't feel a thing, but I saw it glint and then gone, likely secreted about his person.
My vision darkened when his cloak washed over me, and the light never returned to my eyes.
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jejffa8
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jej7im9
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[WP] You stood there, looking at your friend, faceplaming "Let me get this straight, you're dating a Goddess, an actual 'divine powers, older than civilization' Goddess and you ....CHEATED ON HER!?!??" Your friend has a desperate look in their eyes "Can you help me or not?"
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I let out another exasperated sigh as I rubbed my temples.
"So, let me get this straight. You found a temple to a goddess of love, left the only offering it's seen in years, dated the goddess in question, then decided to cheat on said goddess with some girl you picked up at a party?"
Kevin looked down, his face twisting with guilt and anguish at his own stupidity. "Yeah, that sounds about right." He looked up, his eyes starting to water, "can you help me, man? I just don't want to end up being turned into a frog or something."
I rubbed my temples again. "This is the last time I bail you out, got it? I need to know the location of the temple, and the offering you left." Kevin provided the details, and asked if I had a plan. "Of course I do, and you're part of it. Meet me at the temple tomorrow morning." Kevin nodded his head and left, making sure that the goddess wasn't about to strike him down or something.
I gathered the materials for an offering to the goddess, making sure that it would attract her attention, and got some rest. Tomorrow would either be the most exciting day of my life, or my last.
I could hardly sleep, my mind racing on what I would say to the goddess on behalf of my friend, and soon enough, it was time to go. The temple was across the street from the beach, likely due to the romantic nature of the beach, as it was a popular dating spot. Kevin was already at the temple, waiting for me. We quietly nodded at each other and entered the temple, finding it covered in overgrown plants, with debris strewn about the place. It was clear that no one had taken care of it, so I wasn't surprised that the goddess paid attention to the first person to leave an offering in so long.
As I placed the offering on the shrine, a warm breeze blew through, sending a chill down our backs. From behind us, we heard a voice that sounded as sweet as honey, but loaded with the anger of a disturbed bee hive.
"After so many years of no one visiting my temple, now I get two offerings in a week? You must have a good reason to get my attention." Her voice darkened as she addressed Kevin. "And you, why are you here? Have you come to desecrate my temple, you degenerate filth?"
I turned to face the deity, bowing as I did, "please excuse our intrusion, your holiness, I have come to apologize on behalf of my friend, and to see if we can settle the matter amicably." I quietly prayed to some unknown force that my time playing D&D and Pathfinder would pay off by being respectful to the goddess.
I could tell the goddess was at least amused by my attempt, as her voice lightened some. "I see. Young mortal, why have you come to the aid of this foolish creature, who threw away the love of the divine?" I swallowed a lump in my throat before speaking, "Because he is like a brother to me, and I could not imagine my life without him. He may be an idiot at times, but he tries to make up for it in other ways." I kept silently praying that this would somehow work.
"Rise, mortal. I have seen that your friend has a generous heart, helping those that need it. I will allow him to live, on the condition that he never set foot in my temple again." Kevin nodded enthusiastically, happy to get to live. "Leave, Kevin, and do not return to this place." As Kevin left, I heard his footfalls as he rushed out the door to his car and sped off. The goddess came over to me, and I saw that she was divinely beautiful, her dress draped over her figure, yet showing the contours of her body. I felt my heart skip several beats, and more as she placed her hand on my shoulder.
"You have shown great courage and brotherly love coming here on behalf of your friend. I hope to see you again, Love." She placed a kiss on my cheek and winked at me, before disappearing from view. Her voice echoed through the temple. "You are welcome to visit any time you like, Love."
Letting out a sigh of relief, I brace myself to not fall over from the excitement, and make a plan to visit again, this time to clean up the temple.
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"I mean, does she know?"
He pulled back the curtain to show frogs falling from the sky en masse throughout town. "I think she knows."
"Alright, frogs, that's a start." Aleister went for his collection and pulled out an old favorite. "Sounds like we're dealing with someone biblical, old school mesopotamian bullshit. Let me guess, she's a good Jewish girl?"
"She is very pretty," Adam said, swooning in place."
"And yet you stuck your dick in the goddess of literal sex."
"Hey, I do more than that!" Aphrodite puffed up, lounging naked on Aleister's couch.
"And yet you have nothing on Ishtar." Aleister pulled up her record. Two goddesses of love. Christ. "Old gods are a different breed man. No morals, no codes. Mythology and religion is often built on how societies form around each other. Most gods popping up today are built on either guilt or shame. They have rules, and often have ways to obtain forgiveness. These two? They're based on fear, fear of an unknown and unforgiving world, where even the gods will do horrible shit thst day because it's within their temper."
"Nothings wrong with my temper!" Aphrodite screamed, shaking the house's foundation. Aleister looked back with shrugged shoulders.
Adam watched the fiascos occuring outside, hearing the wails of torment in the wind ripping so heavily. He regretted himself. "So do you have a plan?"
Aleister shrugged. "Just gotta sit tight and wait for it to blow over." And he left the two to his study. They could hear him putting on a raincoat, among other things.
Aphrodite pouted a little longer before eyeing Adam again. "Wanna go another round?"
"Not the right time." He grumbled back. Unfortunate for her, his moral compass was returning, and it wasn't going to allow him to stay still.
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j5lja9k
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j5lbm9d
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[WP] Small domestic house dragons have become the norm. Here is a guide on how to deal with the hoarding instinct of your little one.
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Keep in mind, it's important that dragons be encouraged to hoard. It is how they feel true happiness. The two most important things for a dragon are human contact and hoarding. And the contact is just to keep them acclimated to humans.
Now, you may be wondering, *"What do I do when they steal my stuff?"* It's simple. You get new stuff. Key fact to remember is once a dragon has introduced something to its hoard, it is there for life. Anything taken from the dragon's hoard can send them into a treasure rage, which we want to avoid at all costs. Most domesticated dragons are incapable of severely harming humans, but we don't want our little ones throwing a temper tantrum. You wouldn't steal the pacifier out of a baby's mouth, would you?
*"So how do I avoid it taking important things?*" I hear you ask. Again, it's simple. Train your dragon to hoard certain things. Many people try to train their dragon to hoard things like coins. I would advise against this. Having them hoard shiny things can lead to them stealing jewelry, silverware, and batteries. None of which are good things to have go missing.
Instead, try to get your little one to take a liking to things that you can easily provide for them on a regular basis. A suggestion I always give is stuffed animals. If you make the dragon believe that stuffed animals are valuable treasures at an early age, they will begin to hoard them above all else. This allows you to simply go to the pet store and pick up new treasures for your dragon at your leisure. It also makes for cute photo opportunities! The worst thing you have to fear when your dragon hoards stuffed animals is them occasionally making off with your pillows. It does prevent you from getting small dogs or cats, though, so keep that in mind when using this suggestion.
Another thing you have to understand is location. Location, location, location. Wherever your dragon begins collecting their hoard is now their domain. For the first few days, dragons are agreeable to moving their hoard location. They will hopefully have a trust with you that you would not lead them astray. It is *very* important that you pick a place that you do not need access to at all times that your dragon can go to be alone. When they are sad or frustrated, they will often seek solace in their hoard. If this is in the living room, they will get territorial and force everyone out while they sulk. A good place for this is in a spare room or a non-important closet. My dragon's hoard is in the closet to my guest room! If you don't have a space that you can give up to your dragon, you may want to consider whether or not a dragon is a good fit for your home. If you need to change your dragon's hoard location to a new home because you're moving, please purchase my guide on *How to Move Your Dragon*. It is an extensive and delicate process.
Finally, how do you keep your dragon's hoard to a manageable size? This is one of the hardest things to do as a dragon owner. You want your dragon to be happy and adding to their hoard makes them happy! However, most of us don't have mansions that can fit multi-room hoards. So, what do you do? You set boundaries. This can be done using simple sulphur. By placing the sulphur at the door to the location where the hoard is, the dragon will instinctually understand that their domain ends at that location. This is because dragons in the wild mark their territory using their dragon fire, which, as you may know, is fueled by sulphur. By placing sulphur at the boundary you want your dragon's hoard to end at, it will believe that their territory ends at that line. As it finds things it wants to add to its hoard, if it has reached its limit, it will throw old things out. This allows them to cycle new treasures in while keeping their most valuable treasures safe.
I hope this brief guide to dragon hoards helps you in getting your little one set up! Remember that dragons are a full-time commitment and can be a handful. Your ability to control their hoarding is vital to being a good dragon owner. Start young! An older dragon is much harder to break of bad habits. If you need help on older dragons, please feel free to contact me for a consultation. I have helped rehabilitate hundreds of dragons hoarding practices. Best of luck, and I hope you enjoy your scaly friends.
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Problem with your little buddy’s hoard?
We all know dragons are adorable companions, capable of mass destruction and fierce protectors. However, these little fire sparks sometimes have bad habits. One of the statistically most disliked habit of near all dragon species is hoarding.
Trinkets, gold, wood, chairs. Dragons love to hoard things and stack them in a safe place, then show them off to others. Most of the time, these hoards are manageable and small, simply being the location where the dragon rests and plays. Sometimes, though, especially for larger breeds, these hoards can intrude on human space and even pose a risk.
So how do you end your dragon’s hoarding instinct once and for all? We have the answers.
First, don’t take it all away suddenly. This will cause extreme stress on the dragon, possibly causing it to claw walls and floors in an attempt to find it. It may lose sleep and refuse to eat, and it will make it distrust you. Instead, begin by slowly taking an object every day, one after another, and putting it back where it belongs. The dragon may pick it up again and move it back, but patience is key; after a while of this routine, the dragon will accept the item’s disappearance and you can begin deconstructing the horde. The dragon will likely build another, but use this as an opportunity to show boundaries; if the items are too important, dangerous, or the hoard is too big, simply move it or edit the size and amount of objects. This is the most effective way of allowing your pet dragon to adapt to a new hoard size or lack whilst still maintaining the bond between dragon and owner.
Another way, if your dragon simply refuses to let go of the hoard, begin sitting on the hoard or near it, and move items around. Dragons don’t like their humans disturbing their hoard, so the dragon will eventually abandon the hoard. This has the risk of your dragon losing its trust in you, however.
If these methods do not work, see a professional dragon trainer for advice.
See next: 10 ways to tell your dragon you love them, how to make your dragon grow bigger, how to change your dragon’s scale colors safely.
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