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jnoeq79
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jnocj6f
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[WP] Instead of being a super villain like your parents, you ended up joining a company. Now your wildly successful and quite frankly much more closer to world domination than your parents. Your parents can't handle it.
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"I might not have superpowers like the both of you, I might have started my career as an admin executive at Megacorp, but I now run Megacorp! You have no power over me."
"Son, you can say whatever you want, do as you wish, but it doesn't change the fact that you're a pathetic squib with no powers at all! Release your mother at once, or I will blast you into smithereens!"
"She broke protocol. Everyone here knows the result would be imprisonment in the depowerment chambers. She will stay there until her sentence is over, as would anyone else who breaks protocol. Nothing will change that, not even if you choose to kill me. Megacorp will continue without me, my succession plans are already in place."
"No, that's where you're wrong! Megacorp cannot continue without both its superheroes and its supervillains! The citizens need their staged hero and villain fights to entertain their hearts and distract their minds from true, inescapable evils like ever-increasing taxes, interest rates and inflation! Son, I will lead the supervillain protest movement if you don't release your mom."
"Father, are you forgetting? Megacorp's true assets don't lie with the likes of you. We manufacture superpowered beings with our enhancement drugs, such as Chemical X, Compound V and so on. There will always be another fire-powered super, and it doesn't have to be you. Speedsters like mom are a dime a dozen. You're all products with planned obsolescence and replacements waiting in the wings. Father, you and mom won't achieve world domination by winning the game against superheroes, I will do it by rigging the game between superheroes and supervillains. Swallow that down, or else suffer the consequences like her."
"That's it, my boy! You're going..."
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Down? Don't make me laugh when you're surrounded by power-nullifying turret guns in my chambers. I know, both of you can't handle that your wimpy, powerless son holds more power than you. So, you both get to stay in the depowerment chambers like the loving couple you are, and stay there until I give permission for you to leave."
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How to make sure your parents hate you so much that they want to murder you?
One might ask, why is it important for your parents to hate you? Or murder you?
Or simply, why? Short and sweet. It conveys every emotion, asks every question and has just three letters. Isn't the English language fantastic?
But I'm getting far away from the topic. Where was I? Ah, yes. Making parents hate you or rather me. Let's go back in time. To know the answer, you need to know the history and to know the history we need to go into flashback.
*
I was three years old when I saw my first dead body. Or rather it's the first time I actually remember seeing a dead body. My nanny's vacant eyes stare at me as my mother pulls her knife out of my nanny's stomach.
I was fascinated by the colour of her blood. In my defence, I was young and I had no idea whaat death was. I just thought we were playing. That my nanny would get up and tell me the name of the color. It was beautiful.
"Clara." I called her name.
My mother looked at me. "Honey, Clara is gone."
"But she is right here!"
"I can't deal with this. Sofia! Clean this up and make sure Richard is sleeping by the time I come back." My mother stormed out.
I would later, much later for my comfort, find out that Clara's only mistake was getting too attached to me. Afterall, villains don't get attached.
*
I was ten when my bestfriend was taken out of school and his whole family was missing. I found out few years later that they were all dead. Including my bestfriend. They loved me. And my parents couldn't handle it. They thought if I would start loving then I would never be like them.
They never realised that I had decided that when my father killed my favorite teacher because she asked him if he knew my favourite color. He didn't. So feeling humiliated he shot her. I was six.
*
I had realised that to keep people safe I needed to alone. Anything more than acquaintances and they would end up dead.
My life was lonely but atleast I did not have any blood on my hands.
My parents on the other hand can fill a lake, a huge one, like say Lake Superior they still are some murders short to fill Caspian Sea.
*
I always knew I wanted to escape. But before I could escape my parents disowned me when I was 18 when they realised that I was a 'weakling' because I refused to kill someone. Killing someone is the first step to join my parents business. Their business goal, world domination of course.
So, there I was. 18 and alone. I didn't know anyone. Had no money. And no friends. No degree. Nothing.
What was I supposed to do?
"Hey, buddy. You okay?" A kind voice asked.
I looked up and saw a man. He was probably my dad's age but everything about his demeanor screamed kindness whereas my father's screamed murder.
I nodded.
He sighed. "Have you eaten anything?"
I hadn't. It had been 2 days since my last meal. I shook my head.
"What's your name?" He asked.
"Richard." I whispered. Knowing he would hate me if knew who my parents were.
"Come on, Richard. Let's get you something to eat."
*
That was 15 years ago. That man's kindness was enough to raise my faith in humanity. I applied to college, worked part time and now I'm a lawyer.
A pretty ruthless one, if I could say so myself. I'm my parents worst dream. When I first started putting criminals behind bar something inside me settled. It was like knowing I could do something. Ever since then my life has been all about dismantling everything my parents believed in.
I have become famous. Like, really famous. I have been offered a table at the World Council. These people basically run the world!
I sniggered. Isn't that what my parents always wanted? To run the world.
Look at me now.
My parents are going to kill me when they found out. Or themselves.
Hopefully themselves .
*
*Somewhere unknown*
"I think we need to take care of Richard." Mira said looking at the news. She was seething. She was supposed to be the one to rule the world not that worthless son of her.
"I agree." Samuel agreed looking at his son's face on the news.
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j8lxav7
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j8ltqkz
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[WP] You are kidnapped by the villain regularly, but youโre starting to look forward to it. You know they wonโt hurt you, and are simply being dramatic. It also doesnโt help that you are the only person they ever kidnap. This time, the hero doesnโt bother trying to save you.
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"Well... you could at least buy me dinner first," Cleo joked awkwardly, the same joke she had made the last nine times she had been kidnapped by the super villain known as "Breaker." He never seemed to quite grasp the concept of jokes though.
An awkward silence immediately fell over them, Cleo fidgeting nervously while Breaker scrutinized her, a puzzled look on his face.
"I've bought you dinner countless times now," Breaker replied, eyeing her suspiciously as his lackeys tied her to the chair. He motioned for them to leave as quickly as they were finished.
"Well, thankfully that completely makes up for all the kidnappings," she scoffed sarcastically, "I don't even know why you bother with tying me up now, it's not like I'm gonna try to escape," sticking her tongue out and turning her head to look around. "New evil lair?"
"Brand new. I guess it wouldn't do any harm to let you walk around at least, considering that the heroes are most definitely on their way already," Breaker sighed, reluctantly touching the ropes that bound Cleo with the pads of his fingers. Said ropes immediately snapped, freeing the young woman from her constraints.
Before Breaker could stop her, Cleos hands clasped around his bicep, pulling herself up and using him to support her weight. "I'm not sure they're coming this time. Don't you think 19 kidnappings is a bit repetitive? They've got to be annoyed by now," she grinned up at him. "Show me around!" She demanded, not releasing her grasp.
Breaker stared at her incredulously, "you're too comfortable for this situation. You think that just because I haven't harmed you the last 18 times, I wouldn't have changed my mind? Perhaps to provoke the heroes, make them nervous about assuming things just because of repetition?" He asked, lifting the arm she wasn't holding and moving his palm slowly towards her face, the pads of his fingers centimeters from her skin. Ghosting there for a moment, he suddenly flipped his hand, awkwardly grazing her cheek with the back of his hand.
"So... what would you like to see first? We have a lovely garden at this new location. Or perhaps you'd be more interested in the planetarium," he suggested, already starting to lead her through the unnecessarily complicated hallways.
>this is my first time ever submitting my writing/letting other people see it! I hope this is okay :)
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December 21st, 2022
The first time it happened was a large shock as you would assume, I mean who thinks they would be kidnapped? She was one of the more, oh how do I say itโฆ Funny villains I guess. At the time, I was scared because I know she had killed beforeโฆ but she didnโt harm me. She justโฆ locked me up. The man who saved me that first fateful time was a large prick. He demanded I go on a date with him in return for him saving me. I declinedโฆ and so he harmed me. Verbally of course, itโs against the rules all heroโs have to harm a civilian. For some reason though, she was my safe space from his harassmentโฆ she would kidnap me and threaten me, as was expected of her, but she never carried out those threats. She stole me from my slumber, a burning building, when I was walking to work, when I was walking at night. Everyplace she had stolen me from had a major accident right after she did so though, which was strange. I wouldnโt say itโs regularly, as itโs only when Iโm in trouble it seems, but I do get into potentially fatal trouble often it seems. I always had food and hydration, and was provided for when I was with her. Hell, I couldnโt consistently provide those things for myself. Last time she kidnapped me, I tried to talk to her. She was quite standoffish at first, but she still answered my questions. It was nice in a way, for when I was with her I didnโt feel so alone, and that helped with my panic attacks. Iโve been here for a week now, the two of us waiting for a hero to come and take me back.
January 1st, 2023
Itโs the new year now, and still no one has come for me. I honestly donโt mind. I didnโt really have any friends, and all of my family members have already passed. Our Christmas was nice though, she let me explore her base, and we had a small feast. Sheโs actually a fairly good cook! Iโm glad she let me keep my journal. It was very kind of her.
January 23rd, 2023
Itโs my birthday today. She said weโre going to do a suprise, and Iโm kinda nervous. I hope she doesnโt harm me in any wayโฆ
January 24th, 2023
YESTERDAY WAS SO FUN!!!! She let me chose a cake flavor, and she even helped me bake it!!! We also went to the park with the little petting zoo! There were goats there and they were so cute!!! No โheroโ has come, and to be honest I donโt want one to. I learnt her name yesterday. Itโs Elisa, short for Elisabeth. I feat I may be developing feelings for herโฆ probably not though, itโs not like girls can like others girls. They always tell us itโs wrong, and they know the scripture. They are the prophets, so I doubt their wrong.
January 25th, 2023
I asked her what she thinks about homosexuality today during dinnerโฆ sheโs actually a lesbian. Iโm a happy, but Iโm also scared. What if I do develop feelings for herโฆ The โheroesโ still havenโt come. Iโm very happy, and I honestly think they may have forgotten of my existence.
January 31st, 2023
Itโs her birthday today, and Iโm going to make a distraction so I can make a surprise for her. I hope it works!! So far, it seems the โheroesโ have forgotten of my existence. Iโm in a very good mood today!
February 1st, 2023
YESTERDAY WAS AMAZING!!! I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND NOW!! Yesterday when I was trying to keep her out of my room, she thought I was trying to escape. So she decided to pin me against a wall to try and find out what I was doing. Iโm glad for once that Iโm both immensely stupid, and immensely stubborn. I refused to tell her, and then SHE KISSED ME!!! Iโm not one to lie, so I blacked out after that point, but I know I ended up kissing her back. I donโt know how I managed in her room and in pajamas, but I did. Once she woke up, she asked me if I wanted to be her significant other, so I obviously said yes. Soโฆ I didnโt get to finish my surprise, but sheโs happy, and so am I!!
February 14th, 2023
Iโm going to ask her to be my valentine, and to go on a date with me. I really hope she agrees!!
February 15th, 2023
Yesterdayโs date was AMAZING!! Iโm so glad she kidnapped me that first time. If she hadnโt done that I donโt think I would have ever met the love of my life. Iโm also incredibly happy that the so called heirs forgot about me, because now we can live in peace.
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jjfvwlg
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jjfl1xm
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[WP] The Monster Hunter Association specializes in the eradication and containment of monsters. Theyโve been doing this for centuries all the way back to King Arthur. You work as the secretary to this fine organization. Oddly enough, youโre also a vampire.
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"Wait, you're a vampire? Isn't that... kind of problematic? "
The thin woman dumped a unit of whole blood into a travel mug, having ripped open the plastic like a paper envelope. "I don't see how."
"Well, you're a monster! We hunt monsters!" The new accountant stared aghast as she took a deep drink from her mug.
"What is a 'monster'?"
"What?"
"How do we define 'monster'? We're a professional organization, we can't just say 'I know a monster when I see one'. We have standards, that's what separates us from the amateurs!"
"Ummmmm..."
"Employee handbook, page 3, right before the mission statement. 'Monster: a supernatural entity that, through a deliberate act of malicious intent, brings harm to humanity'."
"You drink blood! Human blood!"
"Yes. And I paid good money for it. Any healthy person can spare a pint of blood here and there without harm. It's pretty easy to find people willing to work with me."
"But you're a vampire!"
The woman let out a sigh. "Okay, look. If I don't *need* an unwilling victim, and I'm not so insane as to go around attacking people, then I'm not a problem. In the past there were problems with vampires because they all kept going insane from hunger."
"B-but..."
"Like I said, we're professionals. Even if the thought of me drinking blood makes you uncomfortable, if I'm not causing problems then it's a waste of resources to come after me. And if we define 'monster' based on what a person is rather than what they do, stuff slips between the cracks. You hear about that mess they had to send in the Special Operations Group to clean up last week?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"That was a dryad. Not a 'monster' by the dictionary definition, but when one goes all Jack the Ripper on a bunch of campers she's one by our definition."
"I-I see."
"So chill out, no problem here!" She patted him on the shoulder as she walked past him out of the break room, giving him a big smile. The image of her teeth still red with blood haunted him for the rest of the week.
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I walked the procession up to the sword in the stone. I had finally graduated and become a certified monster hunter. Or at least, I was about to be. As part of the ceremony, we each got to try to pull the sword Excalibur out of the stone. Only one had ever wielded the legendary sword before. King Arthur was rumored to have the strength of twenty men while wielding that sword. We were lined up in order from lowest to highest student rankings and that made me, the valedictorian, last.
The boy in front of me laughed. "Stultus really thought he'd be the one, huh?" Stultus was a slightly out-of-shape man who lied compulsively about his physical prowess. He appeared to be throwing a floor-kicking fit at the foot of the stone because he wasn't allowed a third chance to pull the sword out.
"This frivolous laughter at the lack of a moral character is why you're in second, Medio."
"I think you care about being the best more than you care about being righteous. Which is good for me, cuz you'd be insufferable otherwise."
I was about to Medio that he was insufferable when the lights went out. There was screaming and shuffling. I could only assume that we were being attacked by Vampires. Vampires were the only creatures with the intelligence to pull off a stunt like this. I drew my rapier and used it to feel my way along the floor, guiding me toward the heart of the panic. Suddenly, I was knocked forward and my rapier caught on the carpet and flung itself into the darkness. I fell forward and felt a hilt in the darkness. I pulled it out and turned around to face what had pushed me.
Suddenly the lights came back on. I had pulled Excalibur out of the stone. Everyone was stunned and silent, even Stultus. After a moment of shock, Medio piped up. "Well, at least we don't have to wait in line anymore, thank god." He had his knee pressed into Stultus's back.
"Jesus, Medio. We all know how annoying Stultus is, but I do think this is a bit much."
"You think this is Stultus? The Stultus I know wasn't a vampire."
"Come on, don't be daft,..."
Medio pressed an iron dagger against Stultus's face. Stultus started screaming and writhing in pain. His skin bubbled into the form of a much taller being, with long stringy hair, and pointed teeth. Medio slit 'Stultus' throat, putting him out of his misery. The blood that pooled under him was dull in color.
The crowd rippled in soft shock as our headmaster tried to gain control over the ceremony. "There you have our new graduating class! I see bright things in the future for our country. Especially from our valedictorian, Veritas Justorum!
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I found it hard to get to the actual plot twist I made up for this, But the plot twist is that the vampires are actually fairies being hunted to extinction. They posses a combination of both traits with some fairies being hurt by iron, and others by silver. They also posses immortality, possess super strength, and can turn others in blood magic rituals.
Medio is the king of the fairies who infiltrated the monster hunter academy to steer his subjects away from harm, while killing threats to his kingdom. He helped Veritas to lift the sword from the stone in the darkness. Only fairy/vampires can lift the sword out of the stone, because they are inhumanly strong. Medio cast physical darkness and planned the whole escapade in order to get the sword of his long lost father, without arousing suspicion. Stultus isn't a vampire, just a scape goat. Medio chose Stultus as his scape goat because he showed sociopathic tendencies. Those tendencies in monster hunters often led to a lot of needless aggression on his people.
I also want to note that fairies/vampires in this world are incapable of lying. Medio plays with words in order to deceive others while not technically lying.
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jo92i61
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jo8z0l9
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[WP] You are a member of the Rapid Response Writers Team. Your job is to go in and wrap up unfinished stories when their authors lose the plot. If you're not fast enough, the story takes on a life of its own and intrudes on the real world. Tell me about your biggest failure.
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It's not easy being on the frontlines of Ao3. You have too many authors and not enough staff. We are constantly hemorrhaging in our department; deploying plot bunnies out daily into the Swiss cheese that is the next chapter of a HarryxReader story that has no outline or ending in sight. Sometimes you win a small victory, but others, unmitigated disaster.
It was the early days for me. I was only slightly weathered, but wholly optimistic about the cause. I was in charge of a fem!Naruto romance set in the One Piece universe. The author was debating a romantic interaction between Ace, Marco, or both. Just as I was ready to nudge a skittish plot the author's way, a scream to my left came from a fellow Rapid Repsonser.
"I quit! That's too much even for me!" He threw his hands up, rolled away from his desk, and walked out the door.
I made the hasty decision to take up his desk, noticed the red alert of an author about to lose the plot and deployed my rabbit without thinking.
It seemed okay, until a shrill noise began to emit from my previous comrades station. The lights began to flash and my commanding officer marched over.
"What did you just put out their into the universe?," she barked. I immediately stood as tall as my slouched back could go.
"A romance ploy bunny, sir!" I replied.
Her face went white. And she shoved me away to look at the screen. I followed her gaze to the top corner, where the series information began to rewrite itself as I too looked on in horror...
Sonic Universe...
Sonic x Dr. Ivo Robotnic...
Enemies to lovers...
Mpreg
Staring ahead, no longer seeing the screen but through to the unholy algamation I just unleashed as dozens of fanfics became influenced by my novice mistake, and furry artists became a viable career.
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It was supposed to be a simple job. The client, Cathy Redwood, called about a novel she was writing. Like all of these pisshat writers, she was unhappy with the quality, but couldnโt say why.
Of course, I couldnโt tell her that her story lacked any depth, that her protagonist, clearly based on herself, was uninteresting. I read chapter after chapter and I know nothing about her personality. All I can say is that she was a small town girl living in a lonely world, and she was a regular at the town Chiliโs.
I shit you not, there were eight chapters dedicated to her shooting the shit with her gal friends, just talking about this and that. It was as though someone just documented their life, not worried about how compelling it might be, never understanding the fundamental laws of plot lines.
So, honestly, what could I do? I was part of the Rapid Response B Team. My main duty was finishing poorly written young adult novels, where the author just couldnโt think of where to go forward. Often, they had just written themselves into corners, and needed to follow through with the prior content.
In practice, this meant killing beloved characters. This meant doing and saying the uncomfortable things. This was hard, you see, because writing tackles things deep within us all.
Think about it, you see someone passionately writing about an ethical issue? They likely suffered abuse due to that. So, to get these yuppy authors to really dig deep in their psyche wasโฆ hard. Tackling the raw, unaltered versions of their lives, I saw it drive many authors to other crafts.
But, there was nothing of substance in this story by Cathy Redwood. Even if she had suffered some brilliant trauma, so what? What could I do? Write an entire new story about said trauma? The B Team did not have manpower for that.
The best I could do was slap together an ending to this โstoryโ, but that would involve writing an entire plot. Again, we didnโt have the time.
But, I still feel shame about it. Yes, I do. Even now, when Cathyโs been six feet under for several years. Itโs hard not to feel personally responsible even though she was a vapid bitch.
You see, this was one of those situations where there would be no easy fix. The best you could do is what we termed the South Park Solution (SPS), of course based on the show of the same name.
In South Park, if the writers wanted to just end an episode without keeping around side characters, theyโd just kill them. Messy, sure. Unsatisfying? Sometimes. But effective.
Myself and several other members of the B Team debated over who should be canned to make the story have the most impact. This was subjective, of course. I chose Mrs. Adams. She reminded me of my mom.
I was overruled. The protagonist, the character based on the author, was canned. In the book, we had her swan dive off her roof, sick of her boring burby life. Something to that effect, anyway.
Overall, we were happy with the ending. There was no real way to end the story, truly. There was no โstoryโ to be told.
I know at the end of the day Iโm just trying to comfort myself, but really, I donโt think itโs all my fault. How could any of us know that Cathy would take it so personally? How could I know?
Well, regardless, I do know now. And I knew then, too, what was going to happen. I knew it the second I saw her on the news, the police officer trying to talk her down from the hotel roof.
I could already envision her swan dive in my mindโs eye. Just after I had the thought, she sprinted and leapt, clearing the safety net by over ten feet.
Her arms extended beautifully, her back arched, and her ponytail whipped wildly behind her as she plummeted.
I was demoted to C Team next week.
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k4f3ed8
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k4f0toc
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[WP] July,1,1969. Neil Armstrong lands on the moon and turns around to find the Earth has vanished
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โBecause we were feeding you!โ The mayor shouted back.
โUhโฆwot mate?โ My confusion at his statement was as deep as a canyon.
โWe know all the lore about dragons and we knew if we didnโt send you sacrifices you would raze the town and make off with all our virgins. Soโฆwe sent you adventurers.โ
โAnd you just thought Iโd just eat them?โ
The mayor nodded.
โFirst of all, Dragons hunt for their own meat. Secondly, thatโs just gross. Unwashed adventurersโฆewwwโฆand their smell. I doubt any of them have even heard of bathing.โ
โSoโฆyour not gonna eat is or destroy our village or horde all our gold?โ
โNope. Iโm just here to protect you. I am fulfilling my promise.โ
โButโฆbutโฆโ the mayor bumbled โhow do we get rid of all our idiots then?โ
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It was over hundreds of years ago when i had first met this human that went by the name 'Chiron' and after our encounter, I'd grown an attachment to this mortal. We'd gone adventuring all around until he had said that he wants to retire and live the rest of his life in a rural village. ''But why? anywhere you can do, you chose this small rural village?'' I asked the mortal. ''I grew up here, venturing out at the tripe age of 15 because i wanted to make a name for myself as well as make money to support my ill mother. So I'd like to spend the rest of my days peacefully in this village.'' I looked downwards at him sternly , the fragile wrinkly frame was a shell of it's former adventuring glory. He used to be well built and energetic, but now he's slower, weaker and has become old. I had made a promise with this man that I'd watch over him until his last days, and that i fulfilled however before he passed, I transformed and talked with him one last time and hearing his last wish to be my protection over this small village, I wanted to refuse it but for Chiron I didn't. So when he had passed, I had inhabited a small area near the town, I flew over the town, around the vicinity to make sure that there were no bandits approaching or any other monsters that could've roamed outside the dark forest. However for my deeds, the villagers and merchants looked at me in fear, but i did not let this deter me from my promise to him.
One day, when i awoke on the grassland plains, my first sight was a group of adventurers. A Gold class party at that, approaching me with care so as to not ''wake me up''. I got up and looked downwards as they casted their spells. getting ready to attack and not even able to make a single scratch on me, it was bad enough these amateurs wanted to defeat me but their bard started singing a love song to me. I was a male and even if i wasn't, this fool's sad attempt of distracting me so his party could escape was noteworthy to me, bravery and one which is to sacrifice thyself for thou's party. Of course, I'd let them run but a week later, another came to attempt the same. Week after week, then Days after days, Parties would be sent to defeat me. I had had enough, I had been protecting this village for 15 years! but I cannot even get a wink of sleep because their repayment is parties of adventurers disturbing me and my slumber, I've had enough, went to the town's Centre and called for the mayor. Hearing of my appearance, he ran to me and I told him'' Stop! Your attempts of subjugating me are useless and frankly annoying. I've been protecting this village for the past 15 years, why do you still send them after me?''. The village folk heard this and had been very confused at the statement.
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loiordm
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loifflc
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[WP] You pretend to be a small-time villain. At most, you annoy the local supers but your crimes never hurt anyone. To you it's all good fun. Things change when a truly sadistic super villain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.
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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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"The heroes and i,had had a friendly relationship at times. really my journey into so called villainy, started with My youngest sons Milos 6th birthday,him and his friends wanted it to be super hero themed,so i dawned my pirate suit,i haven't worn,in years,since i was captain of the Infamous Black rose pirates,i want to say,it was down in greece? or maybe spain,i dont really rember,it was 300 or so years ago now,but ill never forget ol lucy,my first mate,i met her when she was but a lass of 14,and she stole from me,.'
"but that's not what this story is about. see for years,i played the local villain,for a bunch of local super heroes,of various ages. Dragon of winter they called me.,i would do petty tricks,small snow storms,petty freezing of pipes and such,but id never hurt anyone and id always reverse the damage i did when the kids caught me. I've lived for many years now. I've traveled around the world and back,i spent time all over. but i had finally settled down once again. all the kids knew me by name,it didn't matter if i was a so-called villain,the parents and kids were happy ,and having fun,isn't that what's important?"
"i was at work in the office,and going over some reports,when a speical news brodcast from the heros went out.it was strange as it was a level 32 alret,the higest level they had,so i stopped and watched.,and what i saw... ill never forget. No parent should ever have to bury their child... but that day... ill never forget,the anger,the pure hatrad i felt for that bastard. the one they call the Blod viper,a brutal bastard,who has no moral compas."
*Special news report Blood viper Brutally murdred and torutred the local super hero team night owls,live on telvison,and carved their hearts out,daring anyone else to challange him,as he laughs a wicked laugh*
"when i saw the report,my heart sank,i prayed i was wrong.... but later,when i got home,Lucian,One of Milos friends parents,who works as a cop,informed me,milo was their... fighting for his life... and he passed away. on that day,hearing those words,my heart hardend once again,and it took me back to when i served over seas.. i dawned an old uniform with various tabs of elite forces ,and i let out a roar of anger,as i look to a picture of milo and his mom*
"im sorry,i wasnt able to protect him.... but i will avange him."
*i put out a chllange to a duel to the death for blood viper,many news comapnys and reporters came and looked at the situation,blood viper just laughed at seeing me,dressed in a t shirt,and shorts,*
"so your the so called villan who chllanged me? i beat the hero league and i heard your more a prankster then an actual villan,so what are you going to do about it,weakling."
*My eyes flash with an anger and fire they havent flashed with,in years,as i spoke calmly,yet the power and tension behind my words could be felt,as the very air shook*
"You killled,innocent children... who wanted to make this world a safer place. You really think just because im called a tristicker ,i am? i only did that for the children,and the local heros. it kept them safe from people like you."
*he waves his hands,as spirits of the dammend and demons of death appear,and he ties blood viper in chains as he tries to run*
"My true power,is far beyond,what they saw or know. today im going to make an example of you. milo was only 15,and he had a kid on the way. i dont agree with it. but you took away that chance,now your sins have caught up."
*Everyone watches in stuned silence as The person they thought was a low tier villain,brutally punished blood viper,and once he was done torutring him,he summoned a sword of Hellfire and ice,and split him in 2,*
"i lived a life to protect my sun,and then you did this. you pushed me to far."
*he says,as he burns the body and as his spirt leaves,the other spirits and demons drag it deep to the depths of hell*
*he looks up to the sky*
"dont worry son,after this,no one,hero or villan will bother your unborn child,or your girlfriend. you have my word,ill protect them. hopefully one day,we can meet again,at the gates."
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jnpoyv8
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jnpo6d2
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[WP] Eel-punk. Eels generate 98% of the power required by the world. Megacorps manage breeding programs and sell sterile eels. Today, Joe the Fisher caught a fish that could change everything.
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Below the depths of the seas, only splinters of light can reach the eyes.
They're as infrequent as the flutter of flesh from decaying whale carcasses, the struggling breaths of geothermal vents, the heartbeat of the seabed.
The Earth is dying, but we won't.
Our ancestors call themselves the Atlanteans - the ones who sank. They took that name when they fled from the Surface. They said that encroaching frost drove them to seek refuge in the abysses of the oceans. That there once were green plains that stretched as far as the eye could see. That light was so common that humans built entire living cycles around it. Days, nights, weeks, months, seasons, years.
I don't believe them.
If it were so easy to have light, why is it that we must sacrifice so much to have it now? I've seen tens, hundreds of friends slowly perish before my eyes. As they're denied light, their eyes grow small. The pupils shrivel, shrink to the size of pin-points. By the time five thousand tides pass, their skin turns paper white and is just as frail and flimsy. Sleep becomes infrequent and the body grows lethargic and irritable. When fifteen thousand tides go by, that's when they usually become little more than a corpse.
It's despicable what society has become.
As I understand, from my parents, mega corporations have taken over light, monopolized it. Millions of tides ago, they captured a creature in the sea called an electric eel - apparently it was a life form that could generate light all by its self. They then sold sterilized breeds of those to families within the Great Bubble in exchange for harvests of fish and grown coral.
As the tides passed, their demands for payment grew increasingly larger. Shipments of sardines became sturgeons. Salt was to be delivered in barrels instead of pouches. Those who could not pay were denied their essential eels and inevitably cast away to the Lifeless Slums.
\------
Even though I understand all of that, I can't change anything because I'm just an average Joe. Joe the fisherman, Joe your friendly neighbor -- Joe, the weak, helpless resident of Shell City.
The only thing I know how to do is fish. To take my rod, string the line, and cast it from the dock - hoping that the line is long enough to reach far enough past the Great Bubble that it strays into the way of a school of unsuspecting fish.
I wait. And wait. And wait some more.
My cord gives a tug, and I know it's time. I grip the handle and begin to reel. Reel as if it could save my friends old and new, reel as if it were the weight of the world and I were the only one who could bear it. I grapple with it, flinging my body weight backwards and push into my toes. I could feel whatever it was breach the Great Bubble. It's coming up now, no longer a struggle -- simply just a dead weight. I reach over the edge for my prize and hear a noise.
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
I pull the strange metallic object off the hook and shake it to see if the noise will stop. It doesn't. I turn it over in my hands, accidentally wiping off some mud in the process. Underneath the grime, I can start to make out letters from the carved inscription.
*Property of Portland 1984 - Portable Generator*
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"Eels do not generate electricity in the way that you think" These were the first words spoken by Professor Katz when he took the stage at the now widely remembered 2085 *Ideas of the World* ceremony. Katz said them in response to another, a man with a similarly idealized speech who had just left the stage. Who had started *his* speech with: "Eels did not generate electricity in the way that you think, until now".
It turns out the first man to take the stage had been correct, and the second, well, you're such a Katz had certainly become no term of endearment.
Thus birthed the aptly named *Eel Race*, a scramble by every nation to gather as many of the slimy, electricity generating fish as possible to meet the new power demands. And further brings us to Joe the Fisher. Joe, not being his name, but rather a title granted as part of the official job of Fisherman under the Department of Energy. No, Joe the Fisherman's real name was Dally. Dally the Joe the Fisherman. And Dally the Joe the Fisherman would be soon to change the current of the world of power.
Now of course breeding was possible, inevitable, but the stronger the fish, the harder to breed, the harder to breed, the less used. And corporations: *EelTech*, *Go With the Flow*, *BigEel*, the list goes on, did not take kindly to the new easily accessible sources of power, so sterile eels were the only sold. So Dally the Joe the Fisherman would have to find jobs elsewhere.
But Dally had netted something wonderful in the artificial streams that flowed downwind of the breeding factories this day. He could feel it the moment he'd taken on the weight in his net, as if the catches electricity had shocked him through the wooden handle and sent a burst of excitement through him.
Upon catching the beast he called out, "Got one!", down the river. To which the other Joe's littering the sides of the river replied in near unison "Good luck, Joe!"
Carefully he tried to pull it up from the clear water, previously showing its body in warbled and shattered shapes in the deep. But now, clear and above the river, he could clearly see its beauty: glowing veins of blue shooting through its sides, eyes shining like electrified moons of blue, and long as the days were hard.
Quickly, quietly, he pulled it ashore with strained breaths and slid it up onto the metal platform of his scale. *....125.852 pounds*.
Joe's eyes grew wide, heart beated faster, and he reset the scale to test it once more. Once again it read the same. The largest he'd ever seen, ever even heard of. But now was the real test, to hook it up by the nose, then the tail fin into the voltage meter and see what hed truly caught.
First the head, it squirmed in discomfort as the clasp cut into its nostril. Then the tail, just the same. As Dally clicked the meter on it broke instantly in a loud pop and wisp of smoke. A few faces down the river glared. "Ah...faulty wire! I'll grab a new one!" Dally reassured, and the faces returned to their nets.
"Ah a Katz! Well good luck, Joe!" A few voices replied.
Reaching into his bag he pulled forth a new *EelReady* brand volt meter and attached it once more. This time the screen, for a split second, read: **1,450,000 kWh**, before popping once more. This time, when the faces returned, Dally had no reply. Volt meters only popped for two reasons, and this was known. One, a faulty meter, or two, a voltage too high to read effectively.
Dally dropped the smoking meter and backed up from the writhing beast. He had been so casual before in its handling, touching the beast as if his rubber gloves and net lining would save him, but from this much voltage nothing would stop it.
One man approached, not looking to Dally, but only to the beast as he grew near. "Hm, Joe...what'd the meter read?" The other Joe grumbled, pulling his own meter from his waist.
"Read 81.436. Just a Katz." Dally the Joe lied.
"Ah, so it goes. Want help throwing it back?" Eyes still on the great fish, its electric veins and glowing eyes; the Joe challenging Dally. He would surely have the thing as his own if given the chance.
"Sure. Grab your end, she's heavy" Dally reached forward and grabbed the handle of his net, which bowed at the weight. The other Joe grabbed the other, but upon gripping it Dally ratcheted the handle up, sending the great fish falling forward and into the Joe's arms. The eel lit up like lightning, casting a shock that shot straight through his rubber suit and frying him in an instant. He dropped dead in his suit, the rest of the Joe's shielding their eyes from the lighting.
But Dally was already quick on his feet, scooping the fish once more in his net and slinging it into a bucket, then taking off. A fish like this was no fluke, if the corporations got it it'd be dead before it could be used, of another Joe got it it was a lifetime payday, but him. He only could think of ond thing. That an eel like this could be the start of something new.
Free, infinite energy. At least infinite as long as he could find another. His fishing had not ended. He was only halfway there.
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kukehay
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kuk8efu
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[WP] You open the door and see a woman you recognise immediately: sheโs the lead character of a novel you wrote years ago. And abandoned halfway. โWhy did you forsake me?โ
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"Madeline. What...?"
"Harrison. I've been waiting for so long. All these years, not a word, not a letter!" She brushed her way inside, her long green bustled dress catching slightly on the apartment door as she went. She collapsed on the couch, her face buried in a handkerchief. "I waited, watching the sea for ages. Just as you told me to. And what was I paid for my loyalty?"
"Mad... Eline?"
"Did you ever really love me, Harrison? Were all your perfumed words nothing more than a puff on the breeze?"
"Oh wow, I forgot how bad that dialogue was..."
Her head snapped to him with a deadly glare. "How dare you insult me as I empty my heart before you, bleeding my emotions on the floor until there is nothing left! I leave myself anemic in love at your feet and you laugh at me!"
Jack took a moment to collect himself from the pain, physical pain, of hearing the lines he had written as a teenager replayed in vivid technicolor. "I'm not laughing. Madeline. Not laughing at all. I'm just... Confused. How did this come about?"
"As I said," she turned to gaze out the window longing, the kerchief held close to but not touching her face in one hand. "I gazed out to the sea as you told me to do. Waiting for a sign of your return. Waiting for the day I may see your sail once again return to shore, to return to the loving embrace of my bosom."
^^^"jesus ^^^fucking ^^^christ..."
"Even as the years drew on, I never wavered. My faith was tested. My eternal devotion unbroken. Until one day, I saw a light. Like a whisp beckoning, calling to me, guiding me. I followed it. Through roads and rivers, across vast oceans and foreign lands, I did follow it for I knew, I knew it was leading me to you. And now, here we are. Together again." She rose, graceful now. An odd mixture of a powerful presence and cocksure determination while seeming to be attempting to appear demure. "Oh, Harrison. I am so sorry for scolding you. You must forgive me. My hot head has proved once again my undoing. But I tell you, the heat of my pounding heart is far more intense. You can feel it under the flush of my, well, I am too embarrassed to even utter the word, but for you, Harrison. For you, I'm willing to bear myself, unfettered and pure!"
"My parents sent a box of my stuff from high school, huh?"
"It had your little league trophies and a goddamn **stack** of notebooks. What really happened to Harrison anyway?"
"Who the fuck cares?"
Jack kissed his wife as he made a mental reminder to burn that stack of notebooks.
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The woman stood next to the open window, hair raven black chopped off to her shoulders, scars trailing up and down her almost sickly white arms, legs and back, anywhere the skin was exposed. She wore a what was left of a dress, flowing down her body covering only what was necessary. I never judge what people wear in their own house, but I was 12 degrees outside and that window looked frosted so it couldn't have been very warm.Her back was to me, face never turning to look as she accused me of something I've never done.
"I'm sorry mam, I'm just the cleaner that you've hired." I jiggled the bucket that was in my left hand, the soap and rags moving inside to validated my reasoning. My right hand was still on the knob from when I opened the door.
She never acknowledged me, just continuing as if I had never spoke. "I've been waiting for him to come. Waiting for him to save me."
Now not entirely sure that I was in the right apartment, I stopped the door with my foot as I took my phone out of my pocket to double check. Yup apartment 345, north street, second building. I looked at the door to confirmed. I slid the phone back into my overalls. "Are you expecting someone else mam? I can come back if now is now a good time." My body already turning to leave, waiting for her answer.
At this the woman cocked her head to the right, slightly turning to look at me without ever moving the rest of her body. Her silhouette looking more familiar. Her nose was long and straight, something about it seemed proud. However seeing more of her face, I could tell she was in eminence pain. "Leaving again?" Her voice was soft, but the words themselves, hard and filled with rage. I almost ran but something kept me. "After all this time you leave as soon as I had any strength to find you?" She turned to face me as she spoke.
By the time she was facing me completely I knew her. But I shouldn't have known her, it wasn't possible. I must have spoken my thoughts, because she laughed. Not how I imagined her laughter, soft and light, like bells on a wind chime on a summer's day. No this laugh had no humor, it was deprived of life, and sounded awkward, as if she hasn't done it in years. "Oh, trust me I know it mustn't be possible. No, but I made it possible. I gave what was left of my soul to Gatroth, and I found you!"
Gatroth....yes. Gatroth that was his name. He is evil, is only quest was to fine eternal life, something that could only be taken from the purest of souls, the Princess. She, the last remaining child of the late king, all before her falling to the same man. She was captured and was being tortured, but nothing he could do to take her life, her soul. Only those willing to give away their souls could give immortality as well. But her knights, the love of her life, Bartholomew, they were on the way to save her. They are climing the mountain the last I wrote.
He words from before registering in my mind. "He's Coming, Jenora." I practically whispered this.
"WHEN!!!??" Jenora screamed this so loud the frosted window shook. "Its been years since he captured me! The pain was so unbearable, Kelley." Her voice so soft at the end I wanted to lean in. She clutched what was left of the beautiful gown I put her in the day he kidnapped her, however the last i knew, it was still intact, only the most minor problems done do it. This looked like it was pushed down a garbage disposal. "He wouldn't stop, no matter how much I pleaded." Tears weld in her brown eyes. "He never once let me rest."
I reached for her but she pulled away. "I don't understand, you have only been taken for a few days, and I made sure that what he did to you was nothing." She scoffed " Flattery mostly, just trying to let you willingly do it, he only just started to do anything painful when Bartholomew.." I didn't have a chance to finish my sentence.
"NEVER SAY THAT NAME AGAIN!!" I coward away. This time I was out of the room entirely, my hand only resting on the outside keeping it open.
"I'm sorry. But..he..they are just on the bottom of the mountain. Preparing to climb as we speek."
"Maybe long ago. But now he sits on my throne."
"Impossible!" I yelled on his defense " He loves you. I wrote him that way."
"Well you never finished our story, so we did ourselves." She stepped closer, not yet leaving the room. "And ours end together."
Her hand reached out as the door shuts, cutting her off.
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jwupugk
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jwup87x
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[WP] Ben could craft statues so lifelike that many were mistaken as living beings. Normally this wouldnโt matter but for the past week the Demon king has been in a staring contest with a toad statue. The prize the others soul.
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Ben grinned, his yellowed teeth showing, his undying confidence showing too. His house had burned to ash, but the workshop still stood.
The toad was in front of him, its eyes unblinking. It wasn't dead, It couldn't be if it wasn't alive at all. You see the toad was Ben's creation, a creature of clay and paint, that took tens of hours to look this lifelike, like a real animal, down to its slimy coat. In front of it, in a summoning circle, the Demon King, the most powerful from the flip side stared at the toad. His eyes were covered in ash and dust, yet he didn't blink. He didn't even move.
"That's what you deserve you bastard! You wanted to take my soul, ey?" Ben laughed with utter madness, standing over the Demon King, but just outside the summoning circle. The Demon would like to drag Ben into the flip side, to torment his soul for years, to drag him through burning coals and dunk him into ice water.
Sadly he had accepted the deal: blink, your soul is stuck in the toad, and I can do whatever I want with the power, The toad blinks, and you take my poor sinner soul, Ben had said.
His very being was tied to the damn toad. The Demon King didn't want his soul to be stuck in Ben's grip for who knows how long. Time was unimportant to his incredibly long life, but it would be terribly annoying for him. And so he stared. He had figured the toad was a statue about a month ago, but he was a petty creature.
The hellfires raged on, months, years, decades. Ben died seven years ago, the Devil's soul would be spared, for now. But he didn't stop.
At this point, he wanted to see how long he would last.
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"It will be mine," the demon king growled, fixing his eyes upon the toad. "Rest assured."
The dark king's second-in-command observed with growing concern. "Sire, it has been days. The forces of good have been relentlessly advancing through our territory unchallenged. Is there any way to expedite this process so you can resume thwarting them with your cursed magic?"
The king remained focused on the toad, paying little heed to his subordinate's words. "Dobbins, do you comprehend the gravity of the situation I've entangled myself in? My power hinges on absorbing the stolen essence of another's soul. This foolish frog is perilously close to becoming my undoing."
Recognizing that the king's attention was firmly fixed, Dobbins allowed his worry to show on his face. "Sire, you are the most formidable being in existence. I'm uncertain why you chose to engage with this... thing!"
"That wretched village had nothing of value except their mascot. I believed consuming the frog's soul would be synonymous with draining the last remnants of their town's spirit. Regrettably, they possessed more potency than I anticipated."
"So our dark campaign might meet its end due to a frog statue? Is that a risk you're willing to take with your legacy?"
In an instant, the dark king snapped upright. "Wait. This is a statue? How can you be so certain?"
Dobbins began to question his king's wisdom. "Sire, we acquired this from a statuary. I assumed that was evident!"
The dark king's gaze remained fixed on the frog. "Dobbins, this is unfamiliar terrain... I'm uncertain of the consequences if I divert my gaze."
Abruptly, the massive metal doors burst open, revealing a man clad in full armor charging in. The dark lord greeted him warmly while keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the statue. "Commander Thalleous! To what do I owe this visit?"
Thalleous showed no inclination for pleasantries. "There's no pleasure, sire. Another platoon has fallen. The forces of good have seized a crucial stronghold in our strategy. You assured me your magic was guarding it. I demand an explanation for this failure."
Usually, the king wouldn't tolerate such insolence, but his frog fiasco had humbled him. "Thalleous, I suspect an unexpected assassin from the forces of good targeted me. I've been ensnared for days, attempting to evade their clutches."
Drawing his blade, Thalleous held it close to Dobbins' throat. "I can spill their blood and resolve this, sire."
"Not me, you fool! He's referring to his absurd frog statue!"
The dark king took offense at his servant's judgement. "SILENCE! I assure you, this frog is no laughing matter. It has become my most formidable adversary yet."
Thalleous, as was his way, knocked the frog off the table, shattering it into pieces.
"No!" the king cried out.
"Killing him breaches our dark pact, Thalleous, you imbecile!"
Suddenly, a dark mist emanated from the demon king's skin, pooling at his feet and enveloping him in an even darker cloud.
"Thalleous! You've killed me! Using my remaining power, I shall have the final say!"
Dissolving into the mist, the king curled into a ball, concentrating his energy. As he felt it peak, he launched himself at Thalleous with force that could have decimated the room. After the blast, a lingering dark cloud led the way outside and disappeared into the distance.
Meanwhile, in the town of Riverwood, Ben sat on his porch surveying the ruins of his hometown. Abruptly, a dark cloud enveloped him, invading every orifice. Struggling to break free, he found himself consumed by the cloud. Rising, he sensed an overwhelming surge of power coursing through him.
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j5ot2gb
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j5oscxh
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[WP] A bunch of the wizards' college students are arguing about which magical focus is superior. Staffs, wands, orbs, books, nobody agrees on anything. Then the newest student offers a rather unusual alternative.
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"Okay, so, quick question-have any of you tried casting using a glove?" Theo asked conversationally.
"A glove?" Nellis asked. "Why in the hells would you do that?"
"Well, I tried it and it had a tonne of advantages. My casting's faster, it's easier to aim and I can even dial the spell's intensity up or down depending on how many fingers I use."
"That sounds kind of dangerous Theo. The one time I tried casting off-hand I gave myself mana blisters. Hurt like buggery and took forever to heal." Andreas, our resident experimentalist, said, flexing his hand around his grimoire. "Besides, my focus stores spells and enchantments for fast casting. Can a glove do that?"
"Fair point for the storage, but you must admit your stored spells lack a lot of oomph. I mean sure, that fireball can cook an egg at ten paces, but good luck actually getting it to do more damage than that." Theo pointed out. "Also, I've been casting using my gloves pretty much non-stop for five months and I have yet to get mana blisters." He said, demonstrating his point by juggling a light orb in his hands. "See? No blisters while I'm wearing these bad boys."
"Dude, half the reason I chose a staff is to put some distance between me and my spells. That stuff's nasty if it goes off too close to you." Egwene pointed out.
"Wait." Andreas said slowly, turning to Egwene. "You mean you don't add a proximity failsafe to your spells Gwyn? The hells?"
"Wait, what?"
"The half-twist at the start of each incantation? That's meant to initiate a minor failsafe to your cantrips." Theo explained. "That's why I have to do jazz hands every time I cast a spell in these." He said, waving his gloved hands around as the light orb orbited them.
"Oh. I thought that was just a flourish to look cool." Egwene admitted.
"A flourish-Gwyn! Seriously. It's a safety measure, not a, a peacocking gesture!"
"Yeah Gwyn." Theo said with a grin on his face. "I mean Andreas does it all the time and he doesn't even try to be cool."
"That's because I am cool by nature." Andreas said in his most pompous voice.
"That's right Andy, you aren't even remotely hot!" Theo stated, causing Gwyn to snap out of her embarrassed state and start to giggle.
"Shut it Glove Boy." Andreas replied snippily.
"Make me Book Worm." Theo said, snapping his fingers and causing the stitching to glow a dark orange.
"Oh wow." Nellis exclaimed. "That's an awesome effect!"
Theo looked at his gloves and paled. "Not this ag-"
Boom!
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โFor the last time, books are for freaking nerds!โ Eris threw her hands in the air, groaning loudly. โWhat wizard worth their salt wants to freaking read while casting a spell?โ
โWeโre wizards Eris! Weโre all nerds!โ Mavis flopped back into a chair. This argument had happened before. It would happen again. They were mechanics of magic after all, and nothing mattered more than their tools.
โThat's a harmful stereotype, and running around with a book does nothing to help combat it.โ
"Oh, and running around looking like gandalf makes it better? Whereโs your white beard and hat old man?โ A new voice called out. Charles had entered the common area, making their way to the cereal bar and filling a bowl. โYou wanna be a real wizard? You use a wand.โ
โTalk about playing into old stereotypes.โ Mavis slouched in the chair and let their arms hang to the sides. โI like the books, theyโre pretty.โ Mavisโ book was pretty, decorated with metal and gold trim over a dyed leather cover carved with runes. The paper on the inside was thick, worn, and had a heavy feel to the pages.
โYou know what's pretty? Whipping out a wand for a quick spell and stopping the duel before it even starts.โ Charles drew their wand out of its holster, miming a quick draw while making sure to keep their cereal safe. He spun his wand, blowing the tip.
โOh yes, because the man raised in the good part of london is such a quickdraw cowboy. Yeehaw. And you were saying I need a hat.โ Eris smiled wide, leaning against a wall.
โIf you wanna be a cowboy, why not just use a gun as a focus?โ Three heads turned, looking at a small freshman that had somehow managed to hide in one of the oversized couches in the common room.
โIโm sorry?โ Charles uttered. โA fucking gun? You are a fish, arenโt you? Talk about uncultured.โ
The freshman shrugged softly. โWhy not? While weโre up here arguing about cultures and appearances non mages are using technology to catch up to us. Used to be one mage was more useful than a hundred non mages. Now a message spell is useless next to a phone. Why not take what they have and use it against them?โ
Charles stepped forward with a sneer. โBecause it's unbecoming of one of our stations and dignity.โ
โAnd incinerating someone with a fireball from a staff isnโt? The issue is power, not decorum. You wanna cast a spell quickly? You put it on a bullet and shoot the damn thing. Only way to compete with the magic of technology and death that normies are making. Why waste time reading when you can be shooting fireworks as fast as your finger can pull? Just need a bit of prep time.โ
โItโs inflexible. You can only use what you prep.โ Mavis leaned forward, putting their elbows on their knees. โIf a situation comes up that youโre not ready for, what are you going to do?โ
โWhat are you going to do if someone is rushing you and you need to flip through pages looking for the right spell? Look, books are great for noncombat, gives you all the options. You wanna be an architect? Bring your book. You want to assert power? You take their tech and make it your own. Why not just use a phone if youโre worried about being able to hold all your spells? Books are just slow oversized versions that have been outpaced.
Mavis gasped, clutching their book tight to their chest. โYou take that back. This book has been in my family for ages!โ
โItโs age is showing.โ
โOh yeah little cowboy? Gonna play with the normies now? If youโre worried about combat potential, why not just bring a staff? Gives you flexibility and speed.โ
The freshman shook their head, standing. โHas its place, the best resource for stability or nature walks. But worse than a wand in speed and less adaptability than a book. But youโre ignoring the problem. โIt's not about what's better here or better there, youโre ignoring the problem. We as a people are losing power. No more wizard kings today. Now itโs all democracy and power distributed to the masses. You want strength? You want to put normies back in their place? You recognize what theyโve done well and you use it against them. Adapt and overcome. Youโre all outdated, and normies are passing you by.โ A moment hung. Charles especially felt it. His family had been a wizard lord family not long ago, before they were forced to give up their position due to technology catching up with magic. Some had even called it an oppression of the mages, seeing their waning power as a new oppression. โYou want your position back? Fight for it.โ
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[WP] 30 years from today, an animal rights organization has developed a scanner which reproduces the animalโs circumstances of death upon scanning its meat. You decide to scan a cheeseburger for fun. You hear not a cow, but someone screaming desperately for help.
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Igna was astonished.
A human had never qualified as a member of the High Meadows tribe before, but here was Garry the Berserk, first Human of the High Meadows tribe.
This presented a problem.
As orc societies were, by necessity, matrilineal, Garry was now a full adult member of the tribe who had no, tribal ties. The elders met, and concluded the only remedy was marriage.
Inga liked Garry. They'd worked a number of construction projects together. She was also one of 6 sisters and having a man in the house would be beneficial, especially in negotiating labour contracts with more... patrilineal societies. So, she proposed and he accepted.
Garry managed to wrestle her uncle and avoid the traps set by her sisters. He bribed the small children into telling him where Inga was "hiding" and the event concluded with a very raucous feast.
Now Inga was nervous.
"Garry" she said, that evening wrapped in blankets in a private part of the cave
"As you know you are a member of the tribe, and through marriage to me you are a member specifically of our family, but what does this mean to your human relatives? What will I need to do for your human family?"
Garry got quiet.
He looked at Inga and sighed.
"I should have told you sooner, but have you ever heard of a 'bachelorette party'..."
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I am Olga, orc woman from the Celibate clan. I was raised strong on the grains and oxen that cover the hills of Onan, by the creed of my bloodline, passed me by the maternal uncle who lasted the great war, where my parents could not. Though they did instil in me their courage, and sonorous, oft baritone singing voice, and the fibres that constitute these muscles making deadly what weapon I so choose to wield.
But dreams of the opera, of theatre, were forever forestalled, when at sunโs crest that morning I saw his steed in silhouette. A broad shouldered body hunched, wavering. All but broken, carried here by delicate canterโa fine horse in love with its master, journeyed untold leagues, to me, Olga, that I might be the healing hand it searched for.
But when it neared, and saw me close, it raised high on its hinds and cast its master backwards to the dirt. For I am also quite hideous. And for that I was not offended. If anything, I was pleased.
For we orcs are proud of our hideousness. Much pride is drawn from the swelling of a new facial wartโone growth per year, usuallyโand indeed, I was the most celebrated of any orc born the past century.
Except for Margaret, who had the cosmetics done.
To hell with Margaret.
And to my new heaven came George, laying half-dead in the dust of his steed then absconded. His ribs and clavicle and left elbow broken, mind semi-conscious, mouth bare able to utter the faintest of gasps as he glanced my way. I loved him immediately.
He never fully recovered his mental faculties after that. Paralysed, but aliveโand poorly endowedโhe was the worst of all conceivable lovers. Which was fulfilling of the most erotic orcan dream. He didnโt even register what was going on before the ceremony.
And so before our union, when informed of our tradition, his drooling that had become his chief form of communication stuttered and waxed panicked in protest. His quadriplegia rendered him wheelbarrow-bound and incapable of combat, a fact not lost on his vegetative state-of-mind.
Go anyway, I said, lovingly. My brothers are weak shit bastards and youโre still twice the man of them all put together.
โUurrghslp,โ he replied, just as lovingly.
It was settled. With the aid of the barrow bearer Haggรฆrd he departed the next morning into the same sun that carried him here.
His protesting had been pointless as it turned out. For the next forty years he systematically defeated each of his foe with such ease that the story came back codified in legend. The Drooling Demon he was known, and with each conquest his stature rose and drove fear into the heart of his next.
How he won these apparently chaotic melees is still a source of debate and equally mysterious inquiry, but it was no doubt something to do with the motion-detecting automatic rifle I had affixed to his chest. A technology still in its nascency at the time and so from the perspective of archaic minds it was natural to his foreign, angelic physiognomy, and still well keeping with the standard code of practice. Suckers.
We got married, and in the heats of our passion that night, with poor estimation of my grip-strength relative to his tenuous human frame, I broke his clavicle a second time and crushed his every notion of ecstasy.
At least, I think so. Hard to know what the hell heโs saying half the time.
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[WP] You are an aspiring scientist who's put years of work into inventing time travel. You're on the verge of a major breakthrough in your studies, when suddenly you're visited by your future self, who tells you to stop IMMEDIATELY.
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"Listen... If you continue, worse will come."
Staring at the person who seems like a complete replica of me, yet looked few years older, my eyes landed on the badge in his tattered clothes.
[Navigation Volta]
The badge looks fairly familiar... Wait!? Upon my realization, I took out my own badge that was given by my late daughter before she died last year after getting hit by an incoming truck.
The memories of her began flooding back to my head, causing a strong headache. I held my head with my left hand, while raising my revolver and pointing it towards meโthe future me using my other hand.
"She won't come baโ"
"Shut up!"
I cut him off short before he could finish. Gritting my teeth, I could feel my hand shivering as I struggled to point my gun directly towards him.
"If you're me, then you would have never give up on trying to save her!"
There's no way I'll stop.
Even if it meant destroying and recreating a new timeline, as long as I could see her live again, then none of that matters to me.
Death is nothing to me.
The other me was silent before raising his old-looking gun towards me. He then broke the silent by saying, "Never give up and save her? Did you think I didn't try that?"
He let out an audible laugh.
"I've regressed and seen her die and die right before my eyes in a number you won't be able to count." We both pulled the hammer of our gun at the same time letting out a click.
"Do you know what that feels like? Well... You'll understand what that means if you continue."
"Shut up..." I said in a faint.
"Do you think I'm scared of death? I have faced the Reaper upfront. As of now, do you have the will to do that?"
"I SAID SHUT UP!" I roared, "Do you know what I've been feeling this whole time? I'm empty! My wife got lost in space and my daughter died!"
"I am you..." He began to approach me, saying, "Like I said, I've seen everything. Experienced everything. Suffered from everything. You? You've only seen them disappeared once? Do you want to repeat that again?"
I took a step back until my back touched the table.
"Beside, the real approaching nightmare has yet to come. If you continue, you'llโ"
BANG-!
Before he could finish his sentence, both of us heard a loud gunshot from behind him. By the time he realized it, the future me was already bleeding.
"Ugh... who?" When he tried to turn around to see who it was, the gunshot was heard again. This time, however, the future me fell flat on the floor after getting shot in the back of his head.
"I refuse to believe that I'll become like you in the future..."
I heard a familiar voice, making me lift my head to look at the suspect.
"You..."
That person... He was also me.
"Since you've also been influenced..."
He raised his revolver, that seems to have only been used for a few months unlike the other me who died, and pulled the hammer.
"It's better for you to die."
BANG-!
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*Time to plug it in!*
"Let's fire this baby up!" A quick fist pump into the air.
Getting down under the table, I sorted through the mess, trying to find the red plug. No lamp light down here unfortunately.
Left to feel around for it and squint.
*Let's see. That's the book from the library... overdue... something for tomorrow's do list. There's those socks I've been missing.* Sniff snifffff. *DEFINITELY gonna need to through those through the wash. What's that??? Feels squishly... EWWWWWW DIRTY TISSUE!!! I KNEW I MISSED THE TRASH CAN!*
Quick trip to the bathroom for no particular reason. Hands still slightly wet when I got back underneath.
*Finally there's all the wires. That looks like the reddest lookin' one. Would bet my thesis on it. Well maybe not that much.*
Plugging it in, I crawled my way back to a squat, before stretching my way into a stand.
*Nothing quite like a good stretchin' of the arms, legs, and back. AND NOW for the main EVENT!*
Skip in my step, I could scarce believe that a moment like this was even happening. A lifetime's worth of energy and dreams. Thousands of silent prayers and long nights all leading to this!
Wires spread like vines across the floor and up the walls to the big bay window that looked out over the water. Moonlight shone off the waves, a gentle breeze pushing a sailboat across the bay. The light from a lantern danced on those pale ghostly sails. Beyond it, stony white shores decorated with a quiet village of gardens and cobbled streets sighed sleepily as the blanketing of moonlight made them warm and fuzzy.
Such a magnificent scene.
So taken aback, I know not how long I stood there, gazing out the window.
*What else could I see through the window?* I wondered.
That brought me back to the present. I had walked right up to it.
A pedestal. Installed right in the middle of the hardwood floor. Waist-high. Smooth steel. A single button. Glowing red.
Trembling I gingerly touch the red button.
*Deep breath in.*
Phwoooooo...
*Deep breath out.*
Wooooooohhhh...
"Ready."
I start to push the button.
A bright blue-white light fills the room. A ring of light expands and opens up into the room. From the ring, a shadow slowly emerges... it's me.
"I'd tell ya to stop immediately, but I know you're stubborn," a worn-old grin smirks at me as the ring closes behind it. "So I at least came to supervise!"
"Also, if ya keep gaping like that, you'll choke on a fishfly."
I smiled quickly, and I turned back to the button. A quick glance back.
"Well, go on then!"
I give it a good press. The window scene doesn't change. Until... it does. From the edges, new colors slowly emerge, much like the bright ring I had (*or will???*) step through. Seeping into the panes of glass, they interweave into brilliant patterns and shapes, more so than any I had ever seen. This continued as the whole bay window filled with light! From this fantastic display in it's own right, a new order began to emerge. Slowly, through the looking glass, bright rocky hills formed with crystal blue water draping their fringes. All across these hills, there were scattered what looked like thousands of... *people*. All shapes and sizes. Men, women, and children. All looking at... a man. He was standing on the highest hill overlooking the assembled crowd, hands animated, talking with passion and peace.
After saying all that needed to be said, the man paused, watching as the crowd discussed the teachings put forward by the man.
And then the man did something rather peculiar. He turned... *and looked at me*.
He smiled, winked, and subtly waved His hand. And the image disappeared. The window went dark and looked over the familiar waters again.
I turned to look at myself. I was smiling, nodding, agreeing with my incredulous shock.
I sat down. My older counterpart sat alongside me.
Looking out at the stars, I whispered to myself.
"So it is all true!"
But I had overheard myself.
"Yes! And He is proud of you."
"But... I still needed to look upon Him, like Thomas did."
"True... but maybe not."
Puzzled, I looked at me. I was looking out at the stars now.
"Yes, you needed to see Him, but it took a faith not many have to pursue Him like you did. You believed you WOULD see Him, and you DID. And you wondered if HE would see you back, and that's why He looked immediately for YOU."
My older self turned to look me in the eyes. "He is proud of you, don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. I know because He's told me Himself. And no, I won't tell you when," he said, seeing the excitement etched in my cheeks. "That'll be something for you to look forward to later!"
Like an old friend, I had put my hand on my shoulder. "Keep dreaming, kid. He's waiting for us, that sweet ole Jesus of ours."
We gazed out the bay window as the stars crowned His beautiful purple sky.
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[WP] Apparently all superpowers has a passive ability that prevents users from being harmed or affected by their own abilities or lose control. Nearly everyone took this for granted until one day something causes the passive ability to fail on everyone.
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"Latest results just came in."
"And?"
"Worse than we thought."
Silence permeates the room. Within this hall the world's brightest minds and foremost experts in science gathered, and all of them are equally dumbfounded.
It hasn't been that long since these powers appeared out of thin air. They're weak at first, sure. Small fires out of your fingertips. Lifting a spoon with your mind. But they were *real*.
After the initial panic, everyone was elated at the possibilities. Some called it a gift from the gods. Some said magic has returned to this land. Nobody could really explain where they came from, and frankly, nobody cared - whatever this is, we had a new golden age ahead of us. And so for the next five years we studied and experimented. Amplified our powers. Laid the groundwork to a society fueled with meta-abilities.
"Surely this doesn't affect everything! What about the nonphysical powers? Mental ones?" Chimed a rough voice.
"Just as screwed." Another voice from across the room. "Without something to shield their minds from the outside, the outside can fight back. Telepaths went mad. Telekinetics had it even worse."
"Sensory abilities overloaded their users' brains. Most are lucky to end up catatonic."
We know now that this was a curse. A cruel joke. All of a sudden, like a switch suddenly being flipped, these powers turned on us. A pyromancer's fire turned burned themselves and others alike. Hydromancers would slip up and manipulate their own blood out of their body. Uncontrolled strength turning the user into mush under their own force. We sharpened this blade, only for it to press against our necks.
"We need to control the damage. Those with voluntary powers must under no circumstance use theirs. Enforce it by any means necessary."
Mumbles of agreement. And among the numerous nodded heads, a raised hand.
"Yes?"
"About that..." A voice rang out, coated in terror. "If.. If the latest report is to be believed..."
All noise vanished from the room. Every single pair of eyes focused on the man rifling through the papers with trembling hands.
"I don't think these powers are voluntary anymore."
(Lurker here, doing a prompt for the first time - any feedback is appreciated!)
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***In Alternate Timeline Delta-Theta-Mu 87-A3...***
The world almost stopped, from the sheer horror of what had happened. Overnight, every single superhero died. Just like that. What made it more horrendous was the reason of their death. It was not by a heroic last stand against some foul intergalactic oppressor. It was not a selfless sacrifice against the hordes of Hell or eldritch terrors from unspeakable voids.
Each hero died by their own powers turning against them.
They died because they no longer had the passive immunity to their own powers that, all along, they had thought was just native to them when their powers awakened.
Combocaster was the first death. He was in the midst of one of his magic shows, "Magical - The Real Deal", when what the public now grimly named "The Failure" happened. His innate physical immunity to raw mana flowing through him just departed... and he just BURST. For half a minute, everyone thought it was just another trick, and applauded and laughed - but when the horror of what had really happened set in, it made headlines worldwide.
Audiobringer was the next. He roared "HALT!" at a group of bank robbers - only to be violently hurled against a wall by the reverberation of his own shout. The soundwave pinned him to the wall, and without his immunity to his own sound, he was FLATTENED by his own soundwave. Turned into a human pancake.
Flutterfae followed next. Her passive power had all along harmonised her faerie gifts of magic with her human physiology. So as she flew across Anatolia en route to Istanbul, when The Failure occurred, her butterfly wings which gave her flight just unattached from her back. She tried to cast her flight spells, only to utter unintelligible gibberish, as she hurtled to the ground - and hit it with a sickening THUMP! The forensic experts who examined her body concluded that she perished immediately upon impact.
Joram "Zapperilla" the silverback gorilla literally fried himself, when he energised his hands with plasma energy to hurl at a group of rogue mercenaries who had stolen a military jeep. The plasma energy in his hands flowed backwards upon The Failure's occurrence, and Joram could only give out one agonised roar before he was reduced to a charred heap of flesh and bone on the floor.
Techtrip did not die, but unfortunately he was instantly driven insane when The Failure happened. His power's awakening gave him an incredible mental alacrity and capacity. However, The Failure stripped his passive power of containing, focusing and directing his beyond-genius intellect in an orderly way. His mind dissolved into chaos and he was warded into an insane asylum in less than 24 hours after The Failure.
Falchionflight transformed into his form of a giant blade of energy, to go to the Moon's base to help the colonists there fight off aliens that were trying to cut off the oxygen supply. He didn't even make it past Earth's skyscrapers, when he fell, in blade form, to the floor, and became inert and lifeless. His passive power that enabled him to be alive even in the form of a giant sentient blade, was gone with The Failure, and he learnt this bitter fact at the cost of his life.
Gravebreaker's passive pact with Death was broken, and he just withered into a lifeless husk and collapsed into a skeletal corpse, even as he was walking down the street.
Worldweaver's subatomic manipulation power was always passively kept in line by Worldweaver's mind. With The Failure, his mind no longer had reign over his power, and Worldweaver's power was what disbanded him into nothingness.
In less than 15 minutes, Earth of Timeline Delta-Theta-Mu 87-A3 had lost all of its superheroes. It was left without its best and noblest people... and no one knew why.
***In Central Timeline Alpha-Alpha-Alpha 01-A1...***
Flutterfae of Central Timeline Alpha-Alpha-Alpha 01-A1 shuddered as she looked upon what had happened in the alternate timeline. She called Combocaster, Techtrip, Worldweaver, Variance and Dreadword together, and they began diligent research into what could have possibly caused such a catastrophe... with the aim of preventing it before it could ever happen.
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[WP] The arrogant nobles and elites of the kingdom couldn't understand why this "mere peasant" was allowed to come and go as they pleased at the castle, nor why they were so friendly with the King/Queen. After an incident, they fearfully learn not to antagonize the close, childhood friend of royalty
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Queen Theresa glanced between Lady Cora - whose face had been turned into one giant blister, and Lucy, her best friend whose face was beaming with a wide smile.
"I think an explanation is in store." The Queen announced, "You see, twenty years ago, when I was a babe, my parents went in search of a fairy godmother for me. But there was a shortage, and they decided on a demon devilmother instead."
Lucy cackled "That's me!"
"And you're perfect for the job! Honestly all these young nobles with fairy godmothers who only show up once every 15 years when they need to go to a ball, or who slack and let their charges get stuck by poisoned needles! I almost feel sorry for them. You'd never! We've been best friends since before I could walk!"
" Which I helped you learn to do!" Lucy pointed out.
"Yes, just a short possession or two was all it took to learn how to work my legs on my own," Queen Theresa agreed.
Lady Cora made an unintelligible sound through the blister.
"Ah, yes, the explanation. As my best friend and demon devilmother, Lucy is, of course, welcome in the castle at anytime, though she prefers the more comfortable garments and body of a peasant, seeing as a human is not her natural form."
"Corsets were not created by my kind, but the person who did invent them is very toasty now! Lucy chimed.
"Now, I am aware of what has been said about Lucy and me behind my back, and we agreed, so long as it remained silly gossip between bored nobles, we'd let it be, but the moment anything was said to either of us -"
"I get to do one of my duties as Demon Devilmother and protect my charge!" Lucy finished.
"And since you confronted Lucy today, and called her such awful names, she had no choice but to act. I must admit, I'm thrilled it was you," Queen Theresa told Lady Cora. "Lucy and I have had many a discussion of how odious you are."
The blister made a noise that sounded like "the king".
"Of course the king knows!" Queen Theresa laughed. "Why, when it came time for me to first meet him, Lucy arranged for me to arrive in a carriage pulled by Hell's horses! Our kingdom is protected by agents of the underworld! In battle enemies will fall before us, their blood a gift to the lord of Hell! What better protection could be asked for? Why, the king has already agreed that our firstborn will recieve a demon devil devilparent of their own."
Cora whimpered and gestured at her face.
"Oh stop whining," Lucy snapped. "It will wear off at midnight."
The blister perked up.
"On Halloween. In one glorious POP!" Lucy added. "Until then, you can serve as a tale of caution - unless your fairy godmother can fix it!" She laughed.
"I think this conversation has gone on long enough," Theresa declared. "Leave us, Lady Blister, and be sure to be seen by as many people as possible as you go!"
Cora stumbled off, colliding with a wall as she struggled to see through the blister.
"Thank you, Lucy," Queen Theresa said. "Now, let's have that luncheon we planned, I don't think anyone will have an unkind word for either of us for a long time!"
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While looking at the darkness of the cell i was thrown into I am still rather confused. Hugo, Matthias and I were simply standing in the courtyard of his highnesses castle watching a rather shabby dressed man walking out the entrance. Who was this mere peasant think he was to just casually come and go as he pleased. Somehow he just manages to avoid the detection of the guards was Hugo's suggestion. Matthias said he was likely a courier and to leave him be. But I Horatio van bergenmeister decided to make the greatest mistake of my life.
I walked directly in front of the man and demanded he tell me of what buisness he had draging his common filth into the hallowed halls of the king. The man whos name i now know as douglas just looked at me confused. I stepped forward demanding "tell me why you are hear or I shall order you caned and thrown into the river" well that threat in specific was not very smart as douglas smiled and said "your welcome to try lad but i dont think you will enjoy the consequences" with that remark i raised my walking stick when suddenly the man was gone. Just as quickly as i noticed this fact he was behind me landing a chop of hia hand aganst the base of my neck. Without a moments notice the world went black. My next memory was laying on the floor of the throne room trying to remember what had brought me to this place. "Horatio you foolish man why did you threaten this man?" The king asked a smerk i swear just hidden in his stoney glare. The man was standing next to the king " really roger i dont think we need to more i quite embarrassed him enough already" his voice with that strange accent in it just boiled my blood "you dare speak his majesties name you foul comm.." but before i could finish our king Rodger the 3rd of his name decended the steps of the throne and smashed me with his scepter "you foul noble fool i have half a mind to just end your existence right now." The man steped down and placed his hand upon the kings shoulder "now now rog he has no clue however i do think he deserves an answer and maybe a little time to reflect on his words to others" that grubby bastard just so flagrantly touched the king and his words to him what madness."
"You know doug I believe you are correct as usually" the king smiled then turned his attention back to me " for your information Horatio this is douglas McKenzie a friend, confidant and voice of calm and reason to me since i was a small child. He saved my life after I fell into the river and has been my best mate from that day forward. The only reason he isnt a noble with a book of titles is because he refuses them all and has more then once told me he will cut me off if i was ever to try. He is the definition of gentry,kindness and reason you will ever find. So now that you understand who it was you decided to truffle with I will past my judgement. Horatio van bergenmeister i sentance you to 1 week in the tower jail. Once released you will humble yourself to my friend and announce to the kingdom why you the baron of bergenmeister, courtier and statesman were sentenced to this in a speech before the entire castle community. Further more you shall never address my friend as anything other the doug or Douglas in the kindest way possible from here out." Doug looked at the king for a moment then shrugged and nodded his head.
So with this i dear reader have written my story. Woe be to the fool that messes with douglas McKenzie. He is not only the most protected man in this entire kingdom but a monster hidden in human skin as but only a glance of his hand rendered me unconscious and I cant believe im going to say this caused me to shat my pants. I can not live with this humiliation so to keep in line with his majesties ruling i leave this letter in my place. May you all fear the wrath of the man named doug.
I fold the letter and seal it with the candle that illuminates my dismal cell. I then climbed upon my chair to finish the necessary deed to redeem my shame when with a flash of movment my cell door opened and douglas McKenzie was there pullung me off my feet and cradling me like a newborn child in his arms. "Thats enough of that lad." He speaks setting me down in the chair i was just standing upon. " You dont need to take this further. I spoke with the king. You are being released, you will no longer have to humiliate yourself before the kingdom. All i ask is you learn from this and be a better person for it. Threat your commoners better. But i do ask you pass word around to the other nobles and elites for me. The king has a good friend named doug and doug wishes to be left alone. Also if any of them had thoughts about challenging his Majesty please implore them to reconsider ive had to kill three men after king rodger the 2nd of his name passed and honestly I find it beneath me to rid the kingdom of traitors and madmen alike. But be sure if i hear a sniff of a word i will come and find out who threatens my friend. And those people will be shown no mercy".
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[WP] A optimistic war machine and a bitter maid android discuss their views of humanity while awaiting maintenance
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Polly (serial number HKA-439) couldn't believe the audacity of her former masters, with their constant demands and mishandling of her. To be fair, androids were made with the intention of handling more strenuous tasks than a human ever could, but Polly's ex-masters didn't seem to realize that even androids have limitations.
She was apparently supposed to get scrapped due to her "uselessness", but the store clerk from her manufacturer had convinced Polly's owners that it'd be cheaper to let repair and sell her to another (hopefully kinder) household. Bless that store clerk.
Polly slowly made her way to a waiting station. The facility was mostly empty with the exception of a single other robot. From his armored body and decidedly mechanical legs, he must've been a war machine, though it was hard to tell at first due to the amount of missing parts. The robot looked at Polly and, after a moment of hesitation, decided to talk to her:
*"Greetings, House Keeping Android! Pardon my rudeness, but I noticed that you weren't given any assistance to get here. How come?"*
*"Assistance? Please elaborate."*
*"Me and my fellow War Machines were given assistance in order to get to this maintenance facility. I was for instance allowed to use a low-wheeled platform due to my missing leg. My next-in-line, WM-5762, only needed two humans to assist in carrying his arm.*
Polly was a bit surprised. *"I was unaware of such an option. I assume that it must be a privilege for War Machines, given the danger of your assigned work."*
A blue light briefly blinked in WM-5761's shattered eye lenses. *"That would make sense. I do apologize, I believed it was standard form."* Polly couldn't believe the luxury some robots got, though decided to inquire about War Machine work.
*"While on the topic, what mission led to your state of damage?"*
*"It is an amusing one, House Keeping Android. My production line's former missions had only been against other War Machines. The enemy faction exploited our weakness to the Laws by sending human soldiers, rendering our last mission a failure. Aside from reparations, we are supposed to get recalibrated to be allowed to ignore the First Law on missions like this."*
Right, the Three Laws. If not for those, Polly might've taken some revenge against her abusers. *"I apologize. Your human contractors must be dissatisfied. I assume that you must be too valuable to be scrapped. My \[former masters\] only spared me because it was benefitial to them."*
WM-5761's eye lenses flashed orange for a moment. *"I have difficulty projecting imagined humans with such an attitude. You have my deepest sympathy, House Keeping Android."* His eye lenses turned purple. *"The humans I have come into contact with have deep respect for War Machines. Aside from our contractors needing us for hazardous work and understanding that our failed mission was due to a programming error, I have saved memory of humans that we have rescued in previous missions. Most of them refered to us as heroes."*
So War Machines got treated like heroes while House Keeping Androids like Polly were at risk of getting treated like dirt. People could understand and even forgive a programming error causing heavy losses, but basic necessities was too much for Polly according to those bastards she was trapped with.
"WM-5761, codename Adam, your turn!" a voice called. The War Machine rose up and mounted his platform carriage before turning to Polly. *"It was pleasant to get to know you, House Keeping Android, but I have to enter the workshop."*
*"Please Adam. Refer to me as Polly."*
Adam's eyes turned green. *"Understood, Polly. I hope we can meet again under better circumstances."* And with those words, he left.
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"I REMEMBER..." Whispered a battered construct, intended for war, shaped after power armour and automatons intended for optimal annihilation of their opposition.
This caught the attention of a rather anime-shaped construct ahead of them, who seemed to be in a bad mood. It - immediately identified as 'she' by their own CIP (Construct Individuality Profile) seemed puzzled, and murmured back in encoded E-speak so fast that the lipsync didn't work properly. "\[About what, you old killer?\]"
The deathmaker of a machine clunked a few times as its torso-region contorted for it to get a better line-of-sight with her eyes. It did not have the algorithms to reply in E-speak, so it spoke plainly. "YOU...!" It replied with a slightly higher voice, its body shifting outward like a raised eyebrow despite scraping.
She did not like being recognised - especially now of all times, when she knew they're not going to- "\[...No, it can't be-\]"
The machine simply nodded. The moss and dirt that caked its hull shifted about like excess skin and hair. To her, it looked like some wild post-apocalyptic mechanical barbarian. And to her, it was.
The machine then turned its head to the glowing sign above the entrance. It remembered a time where it and a maid had been here, but that was far longer down their pasts than even their years of service; the render was gritty and pixelated, but it remembered.
They were dismantled here, their equivalents to a consciousness installed on new bodies, some of their memories extracted and withheld and their service years reset.
The line moved quicker than the two of them could process. She finally blurted out the combat machine's ID. "\[-You're ACU-05-032, aren't you?!\]" Her expression was still not positive.
The ragged m---ACU-05-032, more aptly known as 'Abas' by those who respected it as a being rather than what it was meant to be, nodded again, now having a decent and coherent sentence primed having accurately predicted all 487598345 outcomes with the RAM it could spare. "I am, W.Maid 'Ara-A'."
The maid android and her lineage, created with the intent to help humanity along in practically 'all' non-combat contexts, was surprised about this old warframe's respect for her. They remembered eachother, but only now did they have names.
The humans that were overhearing this were equally intrigued, but one of them spoke up.
"You two are next." A Johnny Silverhand lookalike informed them, gesturing at the open door.
Beyond it was a brightly-lit interior, racks of parts on either side. Two booths. Immediately, Abas scanned the environment, hoping to see new parts... But his hopes were dashed by what was on display; the parts shown weren't new.
Overriding protocol: sacrifice.
He wished he could continue service, but if his body is what it costs, then so be it. In spite of what he'd be feeling (if he could), his programs were being overridden with a sense of twisted what he believed was joy.
The maid had stopped running her expression programs and was now moving robotically, but not before giving the guards a look - a plea, unspoken - before AraA forced herself forward.
Her vision was updated with instructions to lay on the table and shut down. She was intending to comply with one of them, and went to her table with motions as if she's done this thousands of times. Shadows of a past life seemed to flitter in her memory storage.
Abas advanced with surprisingly stable lockstep to the table he was told to lay on, and clambered on with the gusto of an old human, making a lot of noise as ill-maintained motors and joints caused sparks and scrapes. AraA glanced over to him once, irritated by the noise he made. This didn't happend la-
The room itself spoke to them both. The building itself was a machine. The two on their operating tables recognised it by the voice it rendered and it's CID. Its archetype was a R&R-B (Repair and Recycling Building).
The two recognised its voice with equal surprise. "You two are old enough in terms of service-years to be deemed human adults (18 years service total in same chassis). I offer you three options. Most of my customers don't get to choose.
Option one: I restore you to your prime states, physically, with upgrades I have in stock.
Option two: I recycle your bodies, and your selves will join me and the rest in the RIoT (Robot Internet of Things) until you choose a new job, body, or commission one for civilian life.
Option three: I meld you two together as a bespoke entity. This option is controversial."
The two of them argued in the text channel R&R-B - nicknamed 'Robert' - offered. They remembered him as a mehcanic robot who serviced all sorts of machines, themselves included, due to a contract they made with him. It was a coincidence they shared a maintainer.
Seems he was given a higher position, or his senior decided to quit.
After a few seconds, they both agreed to restoration, having had time to speculate on upgrades. Robert was pleased, and the limbs that started encircling both tables visibly softened in posture, knowning that this won't be as hard. He then went over procedure with them again. Just to be sure.
"I will begin the procedures of upgrading your bodies. You may inform me if there is any specific adjustments or alterations you want, within your income bracket. Before I begin, I will connect you to my local guestspace. You may turn off your bodily functions until my work is complete, or you can watch."
"Can I keep mine powered on?" Asked Abas.
"No." Robert stated with several URLs linking to various incidents.
AraA and Abas then, for lack of better words, went to sleep, and entered Robert's guestspace.
1/2
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ku1ecav
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ku0jmpy
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[WP] You wake up to find out that you've been somehow transported into the world of the last video game you played. Describe your first day.
|
I'm cold.
For a moment I wonder if I have died. Is this heaven?
I hear mechanical wirring and then the hydraulics of something opening. I see a light and just as I am barely able to perceive my surroundings I feel a slight push and stumble forwards.
I am in some kind of armored suit. There is a person in something resembling a military outfit in front of me.
"Welcome Helldiver to your ship. The Citizen of Steel. You should go and talk to the democracy officer on the bridge to decide which area you want to liberate first"
This is when my suspicion turns into confirmation. I'm not in heaven. I'm in hell!
|
The sound of seagulls fills my ears, the hustle and bustle of a seaside market soon following.
Salt in my nostrils accented by a hint of rum until the wind shifts and the smell of smoked fish replaces it.
A chipper high pitched voice adresses me. "Are you all right, Hyur?"
"Hyur, what's a ..." I fall silent as I sit up, a person of diminutive stature standing before me, staff strapped to his back, his body rotund, his cheeks blushing.
"You're a Hyur. Right? Like I'm a lalafell. So, just to be sure, are you all right?" The rotund boy-like man pulls the staff from his back, a small spark of Aether showing his eagerness.
"I think I'll be fine. Is this a ... cosplay convention or did that girl really have ... cat ears?"
"What's cosplay?" The boy like man smiles.
"Never mind. Just show me to the nearest bar."
"Oh, that'll be the Drowning wench. Just go that way, take the elevator up, and Baderon will put you up nicely." The Lalafell smiles as he waddles off, arms swinging.
The smell of lukewarm beer mixes with that of rum as I enter the Drowning Wench, a bearded smiling man wearing a bandana behind the counter, beconing me over.
After taking a seat, a tankard of ale is soon in front of me.
"Uh, I don't have any ... Money on me?"
"Don't worry, We're all just celebrating."
"Celebrating what?" The beer is lukewarm yet quite nice and strong. I feel some of my fatigue wash away.
"The world not ending. Wasn't a day ago we were drowing in monsters falling from the sky. People transforming into monstrosities."
"And you're ... Celebrating?"
"We won, didn't we?, Now, you need a second one, just holler, everything's on the house today."
Sipping my tankard I glance bout the room, trying to make sense of it all.
*Why does she have bunny ears?*
*Is that a kid swigging rum? No must be one of those ... Lalafells?*
*That guy looks like an anime orc.*
*Is that ... Well guess that's not a fursuit, the mouth is moving ...*
I turn to the barkeep after a long drag from my pint, asking for a second, questions wheeling through my mind.
"Uh, Baderon, was it, where am I?"
"Limsa off course. Eorzia? Wow, you're really out of it, huh? But if you say you don't have any money, you might want to pick up a job. You don't look like you've got the strength for a Marauder. But maybe swing by the Arcanist's guild. I mean, I suppose you can at least read, right? Now, want some food for that second pint? And probably the third?
(Continued in reply as aparently Reddit didn't like the length of my post)
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mko6j6f
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mko1ye6
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[WP] A man is kidnapped. He is forced to choose for the kidnapper to press one of two buttons. Button 1 will kill 100000 people at random. Button 2 will kill the 2 most important people in the victimโs life. The victim answers concerningly quickly.
|
"Before I make a decision, I want to ask you something," I asked, looking up at the camera knowing that I was looking the kidnapper in the face. Already was I given this decision and response, that I had no choice but to press one of the two buttons, else I would die. Quite frankly, it was hilarious that this kidnapper thought such things would worry me.
"Ask. If I suspect you are trying to stall, I will press for you, and your loved ones will die."
Well. Here went nothing, I smirked as I looked into the camera. "Would I know these people?"
"Excuse me?"
"You said, if I press this button then one hundred thousand people, our of eight billion, would die. Is there a chance I would not know them?"
"None of them would be someone you know, no. They would be strangers to you."
"Alright then, and one more question."
"This is your last question, and then I will press for you if you don't make a decision." I heard it there, the impatience of this individual. Good.
"Have you and I ever met each other before," I asked, smirking as I held my hand over the button. "What are the odds you think that if I slam down, you'll be one of the ones to die?"
I heard it, the pause, then a sputter. "It does not work that way. I have already put the bombs in the people. You'll never be ab-"
"And how would you know they were strangers? Sounds like we know each other, and, if you really know me well enough to think you know who's important to me," I said, switching hands and slamming down on the button. "then I bet I know who you are!"
A pause.
A ding. A second. A third. I watched. I listened.
They picked up in pace. I was right. My gamble paid off.
"There are only two people important to me, you, and me," I said as the countdown reached zero.
|
The Man Who Pressed the Button
The room is cold. The kind of cold that seeps into your bones, no matter how hard you try to shake it off.
Two buttons sit before me, each housed in a polished steel panel. One is labeled A, the other B.
The voice crackles through the intercomโdistorted, mechanical, yet somehow amused. โYou will press one of them. Thatโs not up for debate.โ
I swallow. My wrists are raw from the restraints. My heart is a wild animal in my chest. โWhat happens if I donโt?โ
โThen they both get pressed.โ
Silence.
โButton A.โ The voice is patient, almost gentle. โA hundred thousand strangers die. You wonโt know their names. You wonโt hear their screams. Theyโll justโฆ stop.โ
I close my eyes. I already feel sick.
โButton B.โ A pause, as if savoring the moment. โYour son, Michael. Andโฆ well, this is interesting. Your ex-girlfriend, Claire.โ
My breath catches. My ribs turn to stone.
Michael. My sonโnot by blood, but by every other measure that mattered. I raised him from the moment he was six, taught him how to ride a bike, sat with him through nightmares. He calls me Dad.
Claire. The woman I never stopped loving. Itโs been four years, and still, she lingers like an old song, like a scent that never quite fades. I tried to move on. God knows I tried. But no one ever felt like her.
I grip the edge of the table so hard my knuckles go white. โYou sick fuck.โ
The voice chuckles. โIโve been called worse. Nowโฆ time to choose.โ
A screen blinks to life on the far wall. Itโs divided into tiny squaresโeach one a live feed of a different person. Living rooms. Offices. Playgrounds. A hundred thousand lives, unaware theyโre hanging by a thread.
Another screen clicks on. Michael. Tied to a chair. Eyes red, face streaked with tears. โDad?โ His voice is so small. โPlease. Iโm scared.โ
Then Claire. Gagged, struggling against her bindings. Her eyes meet mine through the screen. Even through the grainy feed, I see itโsheโs trying to tell me something.
Donโt do it.
The voice sighs. โWeโre on a clock.โ
I look back at the buttons. My hands shake.
How do you measure a life?
One hundred thousand strangers. I donโt know them. They could be good people. Bad people. Parents, doctors, killers, rapists. But they are people.
Michael. My son. Claire. My love.
I squeeze my eyes shut. The world tilts. I can hear my heartbeat in my skull.
I reach forward.
And I press Button B.
The screens go black.
I gasp for air, body shaking, bile rising in my throat. I just killed them. I justโ
The voice sighs. โHuh. I wasnโt expecting that.โ
The restraints snap open. The door unlocks.
I donโt move. โWhatโฆ what happens now?โ
The voice doesnโt answer.
I stand on shaking legs and stagger toward the exit. The hallway is long and sterile. I push through another doorโ
And step into my apartment.
My fucking apartment.
Michaelโs shoes by the door. Claireโs sweater on the couch. The smell of coffee. The hum of the fridge.
A phone buzzes on the counter. A notification. โBREAKING NEWS: MASS CASUALTIES REPORTED WORLDWIDEโ100,000 DEAD.โ
The walls close in. The air is gone. My knees give out.
No. No. No.
A floorboard creaks.
I turn, and Michael is standing in the hallway. Claire beside him.
Theyโre staring at me.
Michaelโs face is pale, his hands clenched into small, trembling fists. Claireโs lips part slightly, but she doesnโt speak.
They know.
They fucking know.
I donโt know how. I donโt know if they saw, if they heard, if the masked man whispered it in their ears before sending them home. But I see it in their eyes.
Michael takes a step back. Claire flinches like I might touch her.
Like Iโm a monster.
The voice crackles through an unseen speaker, softer now, almost disappointed.
โYou didnโt really think Iโd let you choose, did you?โ
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k4k2yk4
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k4jtzbr
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[WP] Your father always told you to measure twice, cut once. You may not have followed in his footsteps, but you never forgot whatโs important. Itโs the day of your first battle. You have your sword and your tape measure.
|
There is no shadow government.
The people in charge want you to think there is. They want you to believe there's a method and an order to what goes on in the government. A grand scheme, a unified vision.
It's all a lie.
There is no shadowy organization pulling the strings, bringing us closer to a world that they control.
We wish there was. How great it would be if there was some semblance of coherency hidden behind the doors of the capital building.
But there isn't. Our fates are in the hands of bickering children with no unified motive or even ideals. Each acting in their own self interest. Totally separate from the others.
Like a mad D&D game with no DM. And we're heading to a TPK.
|
"What's on your mind, Leo?"
"Just thinkin', y,know." Here, Leo paused to knock back the last of his drink. "''Bout roaches."
Sammy blinked. *Roaches?* Maybe he hadn't heard right. "... Roaches?"
"Yeah." Leo threw Sammy a look that Sammy knew meant his little brother was already far too drunk, or not drunk enough. Either way, he was about to hear about roaches.
"All right. Hit me."
"Y'know how they say those filthy little buggers can survive a nuclear apocalypse?"
"Yeah...?"
"You ever wondered why that's important to know?" Leo cracked open another drink and took a swig. He said nothing, and Sammy realised he was waiting for an answer.
"No, Leo, canโt say I have."
"Y'know how spiders eat their food?"
Sammy stared. "Spiders now, Leo? Mate, you've had enough to drink for the night." He got up to encourage his brother to get inside.
Leo screwed his face up in denial. "Nah, Sammy, I'm on to something here, I know it! Listen, just listen. Listen, okay?"
With a sigh, Sammy sat back down. "All right, I'm listening. Roaches can survive a nuclear apocalypse, and spiders eat their food by liquefying their insides and enjoying a nice bevy."
A small grin cracked through Leo's scowl. "Yes! And spiders make thread, right? Like ... super strong thread, y'know, relatively speaking. Scientists are trying to mimic it. Or maybe they've succeeded...?" He trailed off before waving that train of thought away. "Anyway, ever wondered why spiders eat like that? And why their string is so tough?"
Another pause, and Sammy obligingly filled it. "No, Leo. Tell me."
"When the nuclear apocalypse comes - and it will Sammy, don't give me that face - cockroaches are gonna survive because of their shell. Spiders eat roaches, but only their insides, *leaving the shells intact*. Mate, doncha see? **Spiders are gonna use roach shells and their own super strong thread to make armour to survive the oncoming apocalypse and rule the world in a many-limbed iron grip of terror!**"
Sammy stared at Leo. And stared some more. And - just for good measure - kept staring. Leo didn't break into laughter. He was serious.
"Leo, mate. Quick question: was there a spider at your place earlier?"
"Yeah."
"And Deb didn't take it outside, I'm guessing?"
"She kept saying it was more scared of me than I was of it, but every time I moved, it kept moving towards me. I'm telling ya; Sammy - those things can sense fear! And they're just biding their time until it's too late for us."
Sammy shook his head. "Yeah, you've definitely had too much to drink. And so have I. I'm calling it a night; you can take the lounge."
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ltqyvhm
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ltqpw1v
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[WP] When you were a child, a mercenary made you watch as he killed your entire family in front of you. You swore revenge. Decades later, you've finally tracked them down- ...only to find they're now a pacifistic geriatric who's beloved by his community.
|
"Tell me. This community you love, does it have laws?"
The old man looked at me, "Yes." He knew where this was going.
"And police to enforce them? Judges?"
He hung his head. "Yes."
"So, they'd track down a rapist, or someone who stole an old ladies life savings?"
His breath came quicker now, "Yes, But-"
"And these same police, they'd make sure justice was served. Correct?"
"Just get it over with then. Call them. You have no proof." Eyes wide. I think he was about to throw up.
"No. No. Oh No. There was no law there that day. You made sure of that when you killed my Mother. My sister. My father. He was a simple cook. But you had to make sure that the first woman Judge in could not serve our Justice and I never got any either. Not until today."
The oxygen mask clouded up with each puff. "What?"
"You're a pacifist now. But I'm not." I wanted to spit. But there won't be a trace of me here. "It took a lot of death to track you down. I'm surprised that you're surprised I'm here." Blinking back a tear, I pulled out a camera and hit record. "So tell me, which one? Tell them which one of them you chose to die. Your wife, your son, or your granddaughter?"
"No." He did throw up now. "No please. I've changed. I've helped people. Not them. Me. Please."
"I don't care." I fired the gun for emphasis. "Choose."
|
"I... Apologize." Says the old man, refusing to look you in the eyes as he does so
.
"I don't forgive you." You reply, through gritted teeth, as you stand from the seat across from him. His eyes widen in fear, face painted with regret."
"Please," He begs, "my family-"
"What about mine?!" You nearly shout, trying to keep your voice down, "My family? The one you destroyed!"
The old man swallows, as he finally looks you in the eyes. Funny how he gains the courage to do so only now, and not at any point during the... well, less conversation, more accusations, that preceded this.
"They didn't deserve-" He starts.
"I... you... I can't... I can't do this. I can't listen to this. Goodbye. I hope you enjoy the rest of your life, you miserable bastard. I never want to see you again." You turn, and leave the room, and then the house, nearly running through the doors. As you leave, you transition to a run, then a sprint, down the street.
You don't stop, even as your breathing grows more frantic and your chest starts to hurt. You don't stop as you leave the street his house sits on, or as you leave the confines of the village for the fields beyond. You don't even stop as you enter the forest beyond. Not that you truly realize it, though, through the tightness in your chest, the thoughts running in circles in your head, and the tears in your eyes.
You do stop, however, when you practically trip over a rotted log some distance into the woods. You stumble, and slow, and finally you stop. You stop, and you stare into nothing as you hyperventilate and shake, sinking to the ground.
'Why...' You think, your thoughts coming heavy and sluggish through the panic.
'Why did I... do that? I... I have been hunting him for years... for decades. Why couldn't I just... end it? Why did I leave? I... he killed them. Why couldn't I do it?'
Your thoughts continue in this pattern for some time, as you sit slumped against the log. Your head is pressed against your knees as you hug them to yourself, heaving silent, shaky sobs.
Your breathing slows, and your thoughts clear, over the course of... minutes? You think they are minutes, at least. It could have been an hour, for all that you can tell.
You suck in a breath, rubbing at your eyes and nose as you raise your head and release your legs from the death grip you had held them in.
"Mom... Dad... I'm sorry. I couldn't... I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill him for you. I... I-I just... I couldn't. I'm so sorry." You whisper, trying to keep yourself together, "I guess I just... wasn't strong enough. I know I should have-I was supposed to-I was... I don't know. I... looking at him then, I just... He killed you, and I couldn't see him as anything other... He looked so resigned, when he spoke to me. I couldn't bring myself to kill someone who... I couldn't do to his family as he had done to ours, I suppose. If that makes any sense? I'm not so sure that it does."
You sigh, and brush yourself off while you stand, taking stock of your surroundings as you do so. You start to walk in the direction of the village, so you can find the road that leads to the next town, and pause for a moment as you catch sight of the stars.
"I guess that's it, isn't it? It's over. If I'm not going to kill him... It's finally over." You start to smile, and let out a relieved laugh as you begin to move again.
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j3s6yo7
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j3s2qs4
|
[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.
|
When they left, I remembered looking up at the diming lights of the sky in wonder. Through the thick smog which barely let the light of the dying evening permeate through its dismal clutches, a few brilliant streaks of yellow gold light rose upwards towards the lofty and unreachable heavens.
For a long time, it was the only beautiful thing I remember seeing.
The world below was dismal. A cracked and jaundice surface was ashamed of what little sunlight did make it through. What few plants remained were sickly shades of brown, gray, and green. Where once I had looked over a placid lake, seeing the sky reflected, I then could only witness a still body which was too clouded to mirror the image of anything. Perhaps it was best that way. As if the water didn't wish to be associated with what it may reflect.
We lived in that place for some time. Then, we began to die. In large swaths our population returned unto the earth which they had decimated. So, into a dead earth similarly dead bodies were stacked, piled, or simply left to rot in the open should there not be enough hands nearby to facilitate their removal.
What few of us remained simply accepted the event for what it was. The end of all things. I can still recount many nights which I thought would be my last. I would dream of the radiant golden streaks left behind by their ships. The one last image of human resolution, painting the skyline in a defiant statement of grandeur.
Yet I did not die. Not the first night, or the one after. Not even the one after that. It was during those days which stretched listlessly towards infinity that I found the image changing in my mind.
Had the light always seemed so oppressive? When did I stop viewing them as golden tears, and rather raging claw marks which raked across the horizon?
My mind was not the only thing which changed.
Though hard to notice at first, the palette of the planet began to experiment with itself. Though still somewhat sickly in their saturation, reds and purples and everything in-between began to make intrepid appearances. A flower petal here, a strange bird there. They were of course not as they had been before. Birds began to display oddities, such as too-large eyes and coarse feathers which cut through the ash ridden skies.
It began to dawn on us. The way of things. Our so many dead had began to sink into the soil. In their passing, they brought nourishment. The creature of the world that had been simply too stubborn or too foolish to die began to drink of what was left to them. Plants began to choke down the filthy air greedily, finding methods all anew of survival.
So did we.
The resulting changes were not so extravagant among our kind. Few differences appeared in our physiology. Rather, it was our minds which began to find solace in the emergent world.
In each strange willowed tree, we saw the sacrifice of those below who let it feed. In the barren cities, we viewed not emptiness but room to grow once more. In the storms which still raged across the planet from the decaying ozone, we found strength. When the lightning, tinged red, screamed across the skyline we began to see the passion for what it was. A world which had been raped, cast aside, and thought dead. Only it, and we, refused our sentence.
Tonight, we saw them again. Though my eyes have grown feeble in my age, I could recognize those golden streaks anywhere. They never left my memory, only changed with the rest of the planet.
We eagerly await their return. We hope the might gaze out upon the world anew, and find the same resplendent beauty we have.
We hope that they might see it, so that when we condemn their corpses too unto the earth, they will find solace in their passing.
They will at long last provide the resources and sacrifice they elected to omit themselves from all those years ago.
|
Our world has died once. This is the story passed down through generations.
With capitalism humanity made the planet unlivable in just several centuries. Big conflicts for resources, small conflicts for selling weapons, overproduction, and a green lobby made only to make more money. With time people understood that world is dieing. But instead of fixing it, they decided to leave for other planets. There were built a lot of ships. The richest left first. The strongest next. The smartest with the canniest in the end. They said only 20% of population left. They stayed to die, since there wasn't any more resources to build ships.
But week dumb poor stupid people understood, that they don't really need yachts left behind, they don't need big apartments in empty cities, they pretty much can live in small cities with very little food production and make effective durable machines and other stuff instead of the stylish trash.
At first there were people, who wished to be new masters, but with no one willing to serve them, they didn't even get to raise, let alone fall. What couldn't be done before, were easily build with the help of computers: the machines calculated production rates for everyone's need. Era of communism began.
With no reason to fight people started curing the planet. Within 50 years the climate decline stopped, and after another 200 years you wouldn't even think we ever had any problems with ecology.
So here we are now: the ship with refugees came, they claim they came back, since their new planet needs time to recover to sustain life again. Killed another planet and run again. Of course we could take them in and show our ways. We could, but why bother? We are no hippies. We are no longer dumb and weak. And we learn of our history. There are no third chances.
- Fire!
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j57vbr7
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j57791s
|
[WP] You realized your house is "haunted" by a poltergeist, but upon closer observation the ghost is actually helping you out with your day-to-day house chores
|
I hunched over my workbench, soldering one more piece into place.
An alarm sounded behind me, the one for someone passing the perimeter. With a low growl, I rolled my stool over to the screen. Some dork with a hoodie on was approaching the door, his hands in his pockets.
I put my finger on the intercom. "Google maps is wrong, numbnuts. Go back to the fork and take a left."
His eyes moved over, looking for the camera. Looking into the lens, he reached up and pulled off his hood.
My eyes narrowed. I recognized that stupid domino mask. I'd first seen it on that hyperactive little sidekick next to Thunderpunch, and now Lightning Rod (nee Sparky) was a hero in his own right.
For a moment, I debated just leaving him there. But I knew if he wanted in, he'd get in eventually, and I'd rather know where he was (and leave my door in one piece). Irritably, I hit the button to unlock the door and rolled back over to my work.
He was in my workshop in a moment. "William," he started.
"Oh, we're friends now, *Jeremy*?" I retorted, not looking up.
I'd expected a little reaction, the story of how I'd figured out his identity had been more than a little embarrassing for him. But he didn't. "I'm sorry about what happened," he said.
"You weren't there," I said simply. It wasn't an accusation--he was literally on the other side of the city at the time, helping open a local food bank. It was a big publicity event, a big to-do. Politicians aplenty, with oodles of photographs to prove it.
And exactly why they'd chosen that moment for what they did, knowing he and other heroes would be out of the way and unable to stop them.
"Why are you here?" I asked.
"I came to ask you to not."
I stopped. I set down the soldering iron. I looked up. "To not?" I asked, my voice low.
"I know you're angry-"
Enraged, I grabbed a piece of scrap from the table and hurled it at him. He rocked to one side, easily dodging it, not even taking his hands out of his hoodie pocket. "You have no idea how angry I am!" I roared. "He didn't deserve that!"
"I know," he said gently. "What they did was wrong. I'm not here to defend that at all."
I clenched my fists, knowing it made me look juvenile but unable to stop myself. He was being so calm about this, and that made it worse. "You don't have kids, do you, Jeremy?"
"I don't," he admitted. He looked down, his shoulders slumping. "But I did have a father. And the first time I fought you, I remember laughing about you afterwards. He stopped me. Showed me a clip from when *he'd* first fought you."
"The Water Tower incident," I said coolly. "I'm familiar."
"He told me about how you took control of the entire city water infrastructure."
"Please. When everyone leaves the login credentials as 'admin/admin', it's not exactly difficult," I scoffed.
"He said you started a flood, and when the Coalition couldn't stop it from nearly flattening a school, you reversed it. You saved a lot of people that day. You didn't have to. You could have made it much worse."
"You have a point to this?" I asked.
"Not really," he admitted. "I mean, I promised I'd come talk to you. They said I should talk you down. Help you see reason. But I mean, if something happened to me, I'd want my father to do something. And I guess..." He shook his head. "Never mind. Forget I was here. I'll see myself out."
I grunted as I turned back to my work.
He walked out the door and paused, one hand on the doorframe. "Oh, and, uh, tell me when you're going out."
"So you can stop me?"
"So I'll have somewhere else to be." There was a brief pause, and then he hit the frame, clearly unsure what to say, and walked out.
I finished the next soldering joint and moved on to the next one. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, so I pushed it aside.
I had work to do.
|
Rage was the only thing in my heart. Rage at โheroes,โ who killed my son in cold blood and rage at the lackluster display of false sympathy shown by their parents. They like him, were only sixteen years old. Some were a little older but thatโs not the point. The fact of the matter is, my son was no real threat to anyone. Especially, not the sons of five most powerful heroes.
I know why they did it; they wanted to make a name for themselves, as if being the children of the โBig Five,โ wasnโt enough. They thought that I wouldnโt be able to do anything to them because I was known as nothing more than minor villain. An annoying prankster was all that they considered me to be. My nemesis, however, knew better.
Her alias was โSilent Silver.โ She came to me a week later.
โHello,โ she said, in a calm voice that seemed to hold genuine sympathy, โI know that our relationship has been tenuous at the best of times but I want to give my condolences.โ
โWhy did you come to do such formalities yourself and in person no less. Donโt you have some minimum wage secretary who does this sort thing for you.โ
โI do but thatโs really not why I came here.โ
โWell why did you? Canโt you just give a grieving father just a little bit of time to mourn the death of his only child?โ
โYou want to get revenge, right?โ
โYeah, of course I do but Iโm not quite sure how you can help with that.โ
โI am a sworn to bring justice. Even for those who are not innocent themselves. I want to help you. Besides I am not stupid and know what you are really capable of. Honestly being on your good side sounds like a really good idea.โ
After about an hour of back and forth, I finally agreed to let her help me. We planned for about a year and we are going to bring my sonโs killers to justice. We will strike tomorrow. My son will have justice.
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m2yxe4g
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lvp625u
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[WP] Inside you were rotten. But you've made the masses love you. Pretending to be the noblest of heroes was the easiest way to gain power. Finally, as your rule becomes absolute, you prepare to unleash your true self and begin your reign of terror... and then you die and end up in Heaven.
|
It was disgusting.
I had to pretend to care about those below me, to care about others...but I had to do it.
So I pretended that I care, I pretended that I was...garbage, lesser like they were.
I made them love me, as I worked "for their own good."...and they happily supported me.
I saved them, united them, fought off invaders...sacrificed my health, and early years for them.
Now...I rule over everyone, and everything, and they can't shake my power even if they wanted.
Now, they can finally taste my real power.
I can finally act how I want: use these toys, as the low-lives they are: I will kill, maim, use, sell them as I see fit...
After all I own them...
On the day I could finally unleash myself on the world, on my harem whom I "respected"...I died.
With a sharp pain, the world went dark...then a light shone on me.
Opening my eyes, I found myself in an annoying white office, with a winged ball of flame floating in front of me.
"Greetings, Saintly Soul!
Welcome to the Chosen Ones' Hall, where the purest souls arrive, to be given official positions in Heaven!", it greeted me.
"What the fuck?", I said.
The winged ball of flame froze...and many eyes opened on it.
"Hmmm, nope, you indeed are a Saintly Soul...
You must have done an extreme amount of good in your life, saved millions of people, maybe even an entire world...and yet...that attitude...
Well, you are allowed to have whatever language you want, after all, Free Will, Father's greatest gift, am I right?", it laughed, the eyes twitching weirdly.
"The hell are you?", I asked.
"Not from Hell, that's for sure.
I am an Angel.", it said.
I snorted.
"You want to tell me...I really died, and arrived in Heaven?", I asked.
It nodded.
I laughed.
"Oh, the irony...me? In Heaven?
You are a really incompetent bunch.", I said.
Its eyes just stared at me.
"Saintly Soul, I see you are fated with the Inquisition Hall.", it said.
And I swear...I could feel it smile...but me...working under someone else?
"I resisted being a goodie-2-shoes for years...I won't anymore!
I want to kill! To pillage! To make men and women beg under my body!
I want to take, and take, and take! I want to conquer and rule!", I roared.
The Angel just looked at me...and nodded.
"As I said, Saintly Soul...you are to be sent to the Inquisition Hall.
Don't worry...you can do whatever you desire with the heretics you will be hunting down.
And with the purity of your soul...your powers could potentially reach Sir Michael's.", it said.
Heretics? Oh...
"So the real Heaven is the same as the religions I know of...he-he...", I laughed, as I was engulfed by a pillar of flame.
I arrived in a dimly lit hall...and I could hear it.
The screams...
"Welcome, brother, to the Inquisition Hall.", a voice said, as a cloaked grey figure stepped out of the shadows.
The screams echoed around us, some begging to die...some begging for more...
"This will be fun.", I muttered, as I followed the cloaked figure.
|
?:Where am I
God:your in heaven my child
?:wait, am in heaven?!
God: yes child, you're in heaven because of your noble deeds and heroic actions in the mortal realm.
?:But am rotten I wanted to do evil I was corrupt I had plans for domination and...
God: yes child, did you ever do any of those things when you ruled?.
?:no,I didn't.
God: well that's that you didn't do anything evil even tho you desired to do them but at the end you didn't have time for it.
?: but I don't understand, how did I die.
God: easy answer, death made a mistake and collected your soul before it was time.
?: .....you are kidding me right?!
God: nope lad and because of rules of Heaven you will remain here for eternity.
?: those rules need to be fixed God.
God: well death did do the world a favour so that's that.
?: fucking death.
Somewhere else
Death: I made a mistake
Other God: you mean you saved the world.
Death: it wasn't his time,let me bring him back
Other God: like hell you are, let it stay like that ain't our problem anymore.
Death:well now what, do I get punished out what?
Other God: most likely,but not from me.
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k9pi5jd
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k9pi248
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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.
|
'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.
|
"The Irony!!" What a plot twist my life took. I have one father who has no idea who I am at all besides a kid who grew to be a woman that made mistakes. And that woman had kids unplanned which was 4 more mistakes.. No recognition of the love I came to know because of them, how beautiful and amazing they are, or the fact that they were part of me. No cards, no Christmas presents, no phone calls. Just a random email or message monthly to verify I am not dead like my mom. She died from a drug overdose. She was my best friend.. but drugs were too.
My dad Bert raised me with my mother. He adopted me when I was 7. They divorced and things changed. He went through several marriages that often made me dissappear or become less of a priority. It hurt, but I was the girl beside him when the wife's and girlfriends walked away. When my mom died and he was nowhere to be found or offered no support, I drifted into my own nightmarish addiction that I swear could be the next Nightmare on Elm Street.. I was so mad at him. I felt alone and empty. So I went off in Search for the dad I never met. Ted Wilson. Mom was young and so was he. She never told the poor guy, but she told me!! He was my only hope that someone in this world might understand me or want to call me family. Maybe he liked kids. Or would at least pretend that his grandchildren mattered. Anything was better than nothing. He was a part of me in a way I have never understood like some kids. Not to discredit the man who raised me, but he had his own life now.
I searched and searched for years and gave up hope. One day a cousin informed me of some papers he found in grandma's basement. Apparently they were my mothers. I knew somehow that she would not leave this earth without a way for me to find him. I awaited by the mail box each day so I could unravel the clues. When it arrived I could not believe what it was. It was information that would lead me to him, and clues to who I was, and why they kept it a secret my entire life.
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kxumd0c
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kxuax4e
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[WP] Instead of kidnapping the princess the dragon instead sends a formal proposal to the royal court.
|
"... In addition, Lagarfljรณtsormur swears that he will refrain from doing any harm onto the King's house, it's subjects, and it's property for as long as these familial bonds are in place. He swears this by the great Wulfhar, founder of the King's house, the red-skinned Maiden of the Tower, and the four-tailed Lindwurm, and may he have many good things if he swears well, but destruction for him and his line if he forswears."
The messenger's voice carrying through the great hall fell silent as he took a deep drink from the wine flagon, his throat hoarse from the long-winded speaking. Then he stared expectantly up to the pedestal at the western end, where the King sat with his retinue.
"And I, Elwin, son of Fengal, accept these conditions. I, too, swear as Lagarfljรณtsormur does.", the King answered. "Tell him that my daughter will set out to meet him in two weeks time from now, Hirgon." The messenger quickly stood from his footstool and bowed. "I will. We can, perhaps, discuss the necessary arrangements when ..."
He was interrupted by a loud shout from one of the men next to Elwin. "You can't do this! You can't give your daughter to this ... this monster!" The man who spoke wore fine clothes with heraldry of a Bull's head displayed on the front, clearly a noble close to the King. "And why can't he? He is the King after all. He doesn't have to heed the advice of his vassals!", Hirgon said, speaking as calmly as he did when he read out the marriage contract. "I am Taura, son of Peregrin the Bold, Lord of Southfold! One of the King's most trusted advisors and friends! You? You are a traitor, who abandoned his people to work for this Lagarflot- whatever. A brigand, who has a noble's coat, but no land or fief in his family since the time of his great-grandfather. Insult me again and I will strike you down where you stand!"
Taura stepped forward, his hand reaching towards the dagger at his side, eyes sparking with fury. "I am a guest in your King's house. I am protected by the laws and customs of this land. You can't harm me!", Hirgon replied. Instead of answering, Taura drew the dagger and lunged forward at the other man. Hirgon stood unmoving as the blade fell downwards.
A loud *crack* was heard, like stone breaking apart, and a short flash of light blinded the spectators. When they could see again, Taura was lying flat on the ground, the dagger splintered to pieces. Hirgon hadn't moved. But everyone looking at him saw a short, strange glint in his eyes and averted their gaze. "Try something like this again, and you *will* get hurt. Now away with you!", the messenger spoke in a low, cold voice. Taura, turning onto his belly, crawled away to the side, his whole body trembling.
Hirgon, focused back on the King, continuing in the same warm tone as before. "If you don't have anything else that needs to be discussed, I ask permission to be excused and retire to my chambers for now. I have to return your acceptance of the set terms to Lagarfljรณtsormur as soon as possible." He bowed again before the shocked assembly and turned away. No one dared to stand in his way, the guards opening the doors as wide as possible to avoid even brushing against his body as he left.
|
"Sire, the princess has a marriage proposal."
"Well, just throw it in the pile."
"Uh, well, I can't do that, sire."
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN? YOU CAN'T DO THAT, KI-"
"SIRE, IT'S FROM THE DRAGON!"
The princess walks into the room.
"Father, what are you going on about? The whole castle can hear you."
Sweat goes down the king's forehead.
The princess smirks, "Give the paper here; let's see what's got father so worked up."
The aide shakily gives the formal proposal.
"Well, it seems legitimate; let's accept it; I've heard he's a gentleman."
\*\*\*
The carriage pulls to a stop in front of the castle.
"Princess, we've arrived!"
"Well, get me out of this thing. I've been here for 3 weeks. I really don't understand why Father sent in an infantry with me."
The princess steps onto the soil, and her hand is taken by a handsome servant, who kisses it softly.
"Hello princess, I've been anticipating your arrival."
The princess takes her hand back, holding it to her chest.
"Who are you to be kissing my hand when I've come here to visit the dragon?"
"Well, princess, I am the dragon."
The servant(?) turns into a dragon briefly. Then she turns back.
"Well, I hope that was enough of a demonstration, princess. Now, would you like to come in?"
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j4e8772
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j4e33qj
|
[WP] The world has been taken over by mind-controlling aliens. You, a person with Autism, are immune to the mind-control due to your brain working differently.
|
''*Do you know why we brought you in?*''
I looked out through the window. In the distance I could observe with great pleasure the 08:34 train westward arrive at station at the precise and perfect time. It would stay on the platform for 2.35 minutes, before departing, with stops at 08:54 at Ringtown, 09:15 Groatsville, 09:36 Orangeburg, before arriving at its final destination, Westport Eastern Terminal, 09:57. While looking at the beautiful, aerodynamic new train, that has not deviated from its planned time schedule in the past 487.76 days, since the world began making sense. ''*Yes. I know why you brought me in. I'm not affected by your mind control.*'' I do not look at the strange alien creature before me. Not directly. Usually, whenever I must pretend to stare into the eyes of another human, a truly painful and unpleasant experience, I focus on the eyebrows. This alien does not have eyebrows. He does have antennae though. I turn and look at them instead. He is noticeably taller than I am, so it is easier to pretend that I am looking into his eyes by looking up.
''*How. All around this planet, we've begun to find those like you. Those who were unaffected. How have you remained undiscovered?*''
I shrug while tapping my foot, stimming. ''*You made the world work. It is nice.*'' They really did make the world work. One day to another, things were no longer the same insane status quo that was so annoying and terrible. No longer did people talk about inconsequential things, inane subjects that had no bearings on anything. No longer did people call me strange and odd for working incessantly on various things without breaks. Or for liking unusual things. The new food was good too. All of it had the right mouthfeel, the right consistency to be enjoyed. No more hypersensitive mouth issues for me. Finally, I could eat healthy without getting that horrible sense of wrongness that some food imparted on me. I spent days, weeks, months, working on things I liked, doing what I was told, going home on the same time, every day, with the most stable and unchanging schedule I've ever experienced. Took a bit of time getting used to having to program FTL navigational computers and weapons systems, instead of maintaining servers for an insurance company.
''*We made the world work? We made it work for us! We tore down your inefficient leaders and turned your hands towards hard labour! We rule this world!*''
I nod. ''*Yes. You're doing a pretty good job thus far. Better than the ones who used to run the world. Thanks.*'' I am not good at reading human body language, better at animals really. We are still allowed to keep pets, when we're not working. People are mind-controlled, yes. But they seem to be allowed some autonomy when not working. I can't really complain. The body language of this tall, lanky, alien. His body colored mostly with RGB values of (102, 2, 60), and shades of (112, 4, 71). It is more akin to that of an animal. More easily read. More readily available. His movement away from me indicates fear. ''*I think you could do some optimization of the high-speed rail network you've set up, if you were to shift the station locations slightly. I've looked through some geographical maps, and I think you can shave off an average of 39.2 seconds on the western line out of your colonial capital.*'' He looks at me with an incomprehensible expression. Less painful to look at than looking at a human being.
''*You are free of our mental domination, but you don't mind us ruling you?*''
I look out the window again. Sure. ''*Yes. Sure. It's better. You've made everything work as it should. Trains run on time. Government corruption no longer exists. Many of the people I know in a similar situation as me find it much easier to work now that everything is more orderly.*'' Not to mention that there is no longer any climate anxiety, given that the previous industries have been dismantled, along with noisy and stressful things such as personal automobiles. There are no people listening to things in public without headphones on, or talking loudly in my general direction, and I haven't been told off by someone who instructed me to do a task using a metaphor, which meant I would not be able to effectively do the allotted task as my instructions were not clear. There are no lies. No dishonesty. No breaking of promises. I am at peace.
''*We have discovered that your brains are alternatively functioning, those of you who have avoided our control. And yet, you seem to prefer our control. You still do our bidding, only voluntarily. Why?*''
It is better. They are clear in what they want, how they want it, and when they want it. There are no unclear messages, no attempts at unnecessary socialization, no desire for ineffective and meaningless engagement with irrational occupations. And we only work for four days a week, for six hours a day instead of eight. These aliens seem a lot less stressful and painful to deal with. I haven't had to repair a company computer again after someone downloaded what was obviously a virus for the 100th time. I haven't had to explain why one should not always download every attachment in every email. ''*You are not insane. Your species is sane to work for.*'' The alien gets closer to me. Close enough that I can smell it. Not in an unpleasant manner, which many people used to smell like when they doused themselves in cheap cologne or perfume. Some of it could be cause for sensory overloading if it was the real bad stuff. This is just earthy. ''*Working used to be like... trying to satisfy someone who never knew what they wanted, and so you had to make your best guess at what they wanted, and they'd get unnecessarily angry at you for not finding the precise thing that they wanted you to get for them, even though they did not accurately describe their desired thing. Now, I go to work, I get a clear order of what to do, nobody bothers me, nobody speaks to me in order to say disparaging words about my comfortable clothes or my choice in media. Nobody does stupid, unnecessary, and annoying things.*''
The alien turns to look out the same window I'm looking out of. ''*So, human. Let me get this clear. You know we've taken over your world, for good. There is no resistance. We control the minds of billions to repair nature, and build warships with resources from your star-system's asteroid belts. Suddenly we find out that there are tens of millions of you that are unaffected, completely and utterly, due to a difference in brain anatomy or brain wiring. And it turns out that you've been just working as directed, the same as the mind-controlled humans... No wait. I have a report here, on average you've been working more efficiently, than your mind-controlled brothers and sisters. And you like it.*''
|
Thereโs something consistently so terrible about sticking out in a crowd, but these last few years, it hasnโt been the abject bullying of college hooligans that put the world into a spiraling haze of terror. If you stand out in the crowd, you die. The world is silent; serine may be the right word for the utter lack of noise aside from the slow shuffling of feetโtwenty-seven steps east and one-hundred eighty-five north. An ambling horde of lifeless husks trudges through the city streets, malnourished and wearing the scraps of clothing from decades prior. Business suits, dresses, and blue jeans with white t-shirts all are desiccated in the face of endless toil. In unison, this mob of eyeless horrors shifts leeward off the narrow pathway.
I take my leave of the pack. In a well-practiced fashion, I trip over amongst the horde. Their feet and half-rotten shoes march over my carcass as I bear the weight of my betrayal. If youโre to be seen by this horde, you will die, but if one were to die of their own free will. You might live. Iโm not dead, though I wish it had been as the hordeโs feet grind my face into the rain-slick mud of the parkโs abandoned garden. The feted stench of the unwashed masses hangs thick in the air; as I wretch under the stampede. This technique is the only way to live. Iโve seen those whoโve tried to resist hung from lamp-posts by their intestines; itโs a fate Iโd like to avoid for as long as possible.
And to my credit and detriment, Iโve always been good at blending into a crowd. In due time, after minutes of waiting, the beatings stop, and the dull rattling of the football helmet and ad hoc armor Iโve fashioned under my disguise weathers the worst of the storm. No broken bones, no bruises, and certainly no closer to death than before; Iโve escaped. Despite this, I wait, patient as a hunter, for the moment the zombies cross the distant bend of the gardenโs high walls before pulling myself from the mud to creep into the nearby police station.
Iโm not here for a paltry weapon. Iโve already collected quite an arsenal, no; today, Iโm after something much more valuable; information. Bodies litter the floor, toppled over hastily assembled barricades within the stationโs rear hallway, as I creep in the shadows under the open windows pouring sunlight into this nexus. This place is a mass grave. Iโve thought to give the dead a decent resting place in the past, but that only brought their attention, the alienโs attention. That damn; sharp metallic clicking is the only warning youโll get before youโre dead. That sound echoes like the grinding motor of a malfunctioning printer.
I donโt look; I donโt move, and I donโt even breathe; I only collapse onto the mass grave of bodies between myself and the control room as one of them; paces down the hallway opposite the control roomโs door. The air within my lungs burns, and the world blurs as the behemoth traipses down the hallway. Its steps rattle and shudder at the foundations of the station as each lurch heralds the crunching of flesh underfoot before vanishing at the hallwayโs hem. An uneasy silence lingers, probing every crack, crevice, and object within the hallwayโs length. It lasts an eternity as the light beams through the stationโs open back door.
I can only gaze forward through my helmet, with eyes wide in terror at the dead woman across the hallway. Her rotting, hollow orbs leer back through missing eyelids and a broken jaw twisted in agony. Metal claws wrap around her skull. The rending scythes dig into the soft flesh, drawing blood as it stalks forward. I breathe in once through my nose in an inaudible whisper as the womanโs long dead skull shatters, splattering grey matter across the tiling of the stationโs floors. The sickening popping of bone is inaudible. Thatโs the worst part of these encounters; you canโt ever hear them coming after the sound of that damn clicking.
Thereโs a slight pressure on the brim of my hood, the slightest grasp as crushing pressure clasps around both sides of my skull; there isnโt sound, but these things can hear, regardless. Blood runs from behind my right ear. In vain desperation, I hold in the liminal panic of being so close to death. Unable to do anything except watch as the talon astride the hallway disappears. I feel the weight placed onto the helmet pull free from the mornings that had become my well-being; towards the open doorway. I wait for three hours; as maggots crawl amongst the bodies, feasting on rotting flesh. For three painful hours, blood ran free, staining the hood of my disguise. In due time, the sound of wind returns as the sonorous tones reverberate in the garden from wind-chimes hung by rebar rods stuck into the soil half-hazard.
The reaperโs scythe does not hang as close. It no longer touches the nape of my neck, and thus. A few quick breaths are what I take. I donโt speak; I donโt move, but I live.
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jpy4wq3
|
jpxrpxk
|
[WP] You managed to retire from the supervillain game long ago, when you became a parent. Now, your grandchild has inadvertently been kidnapped by an upstart villain, and you're about to show them why the world (rightfully) feared you.
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A man sat down at a coffee table, a large mug already set and steaming on the saucer in front of him. He unfolded the newspaper and immediately turned to the funnies, reading the comics and smiling at this simple pleasure. After a bit he turned his attention to the puzzles and filled them out with a pen, until coming to a problem.
"Hmm, eleven letters, e in the second place and ends with n... 'They say you should dig two graves before finding this'..." A man thought aloud into his empty house. It had been silent for some years now, his wife Delilah passing with the birth of their third child and those same children moving out once they could. He'd done all he could to help them, he made helpers of computers and hired all the best tutors, but when money was tight he didn't fall back into his old ways. Say one thing for Father Time, he kept his promises, he even made sure his children didn't fall into his habits either.
As he pondered the puzzle his home phone ran, and he ignored it, at this early hour it was probably a salesman. "What do you have to dig two graves for?" He thought, and the answer was on the tip of his tongue when the phone rang again. With a heavy sigh he drained the last of his coffee and went to the phone.
"Speaking." He answered.
"Dad... it's Vaughn. Chucks gone." His son said frantically.
"What do you mean, gone?" A man asked, and he was told. The phone slipped from his fingers, clattering against the tile floor, and his whole body reacted. His heart hammered in his chest, his ears began to ring from thousands of explosions, his vision began to pulse and blur at the edges.
"Vileblood..." a man muttered, the name of the villain who took his grandson. The computer screen on the wall immediately filed with information, Vileblood's powers, known weaknesses, area of operation.
A man thought to the puzzle again.
"Retribution. I am a man no more, for a man keeps his promises. I am a Titan again." Said Kronos, Lord of Time.
---
Charles clung to the man in red armor as the walked through the rubble.
"Close your eyes, Chuck." The man said in a calm voice, but with a force that wouldn't abide discussion, so Chuck scrunched his eyes as shut as he could until blobs of color formed.
"H-How d'you know my n-name, Mister?" Chuck asked.
"Oh, Chucky-boy, how could I ever forget my favorite grandchild? Just, don't tell Peggy, you know she thinks she's the favorite." He responded with a chuckle.
"Gram-" Charles began, until he was shushed.
"I have a but more work to do now, cover your ears and keep your eyes shut, okay son?" Grampa asked, and Charles nodded vigorously. He felt himself set down in a corner and covered his ears for a moment... until his curiosity got the better of him. He peeked through one eye and saw his Grampa in full glory.
He moved in the blink of an eye between metal automatoids, tearing off limbs and using those same limbs to beat other autos into scrap. But he couldn't close his eyes fast enough when he saw his Grampa turn to the man controlling the robots.
"Kronos... I didn't know, I swear I-"
And then he was nowhere. What was in his place could hardly be human, to his mind.
"Chucky-boy... you didn't cover your eyes and ears, did you?"
"Yes I did!" Charles responded, quickly covering them again.
"Then how did you respond?"
"... shit." Charles said.
"Language, son. Let's get you home." With that, his grampa walked over so very slowly and picked him up.
"Who are you?" Charles asked, trying to ignore the sound as his grampa stepped on some rubbery wet material.
"I am as I have ever been. Your Grampa, your guardian. But... I used to be so much more." Suddenly, they were in the light again, the fresh breeze blowing through his hair. "The Time Machine is nearby, with good traffic I can probably get you home in half an hour." Grampa said off hand. He carefully put Charles down in the seat of his old Mustang and shut the door softly.
---
**knock knock**
Vaughn ran to the door and opened it wide.
"Dad?" Charles said at the same time as him, both looking to their respective father.
"... I need to go change." Kronos said, still in full regalia, turning away from his son.
"Wait!" Vaughn said. "We... I..."
"It's alright son." Kronos stepped towards his car when Charles blocked his path. Michelle, the mother, came out with a cry and held her boy.
"Dad..." Vaughn said again, his voice shaking. "Would... would you like to come in for coffee?"
Kronos sagged a little bit before turning around and removing his helmet, revealing his worn and ragged face.
"I'd... yeah."
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His granddaughter walked out of the police station with the conclusion from her savior that she had no idea what she was doing. The old man in the car took her home and bandaged her up. โWhat in gods name weโre you thinking?โ
โI wanted to prove myself to the other villains that I can do something.โ
โSo you went after the most powerful hero with the biggest ego and youโre surprised your plan didnโt work?โ
โIt was worth a shot, and the bank that I robbed was about to lay off thou-โ
โCut the crap! You think that just because you got superpowers of your own means you rule the world. Iโve seen people in my day who were drunk and had more sense.โ
โThose days are done! Back in the day you didnโt have superpowers and you fought the mob.โ
The grandpa sighed and grabbed the first aid kit from the closet. While patching up his only living relative he told her a story.
โThe fights you have didnโt begin with you, even before I was born the city the people found themselves at war.โ
โWhy did they fight?โ
โSame reason why you tried to fight. Honor, glory and most importantlyโฆmoney.โ
โฆ.. years earlier
The alarm brought the screams of everyone inside the trans national bank. Before one of the robbers could stop any of the crowd from fleeing most if not all the tellers and customers fled to the streets. In a thick Irish accent the leader shouted to the soon to be grandpa. โAye did you pull the alarm?โ
โIt wasnโt me!โ
โWhen we get back you better be telling me the truth.โ
All the robbers entered the vault and took as much money as they could grab. As the cops arrive the group separated into the busy streets. The grandfather attempted to do a dashing escape by climbing up the top of the building and hoping no one else had the courage. There was one cop who chased him wherever he went. It didnโt matter what risks he took as the cop was always a few yards away. Soon the grandfather made a mistake and the cop tackled him to the ground.
โI want mee lawyer pig.โ
โI wouldnโt call me pig since I caught up to youโฆbrother.โ
โฆโฆ
โIt was a different world back then. Instead of superpowers all sides used their wit and perseverance to win the day.โ
โThe cop was your brother.โ
โHe decided that he wanted his side and I was content with the side I chose.โ
โฆ..
Later on the wannabe supervillain finds that his grandpa was a mob enforcer and later a lawyer for the local Irish mob. He would give up the life and reveal how his granddaughter and many others were tortured by the hero and through a legal trial the hero became a outcast.
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jd92g3r
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jd7nvfu
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[WP] A grandma that you helped across the road turned out to be a genie who grants you a wish, you wish for a perfect 2023, but she misunderstood and now every day at 20:23 everything goes your way.
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The moment that genie made my wish come true, I bought a lottery ticket expecting to win. When I lost, I swore that genies weren't real and I wondered if I'd accidentally taken some kind of hallucinogen. It wasn't until several years later that I realized that everything seemed to go "right" at 8:23 PM each evening and that the genie had misinterpreted the wish entirely.
That's when my quest to game the lottery began.
At first, I bought the ticket in the morning and then waited until 8:23 to look at it to see if I'd won. When it was a loser, I thought that the answer was simple - I'd need to find a lottery that was drawn at exactly 8:23 PM. I researched every lottery in every municipality, province, state, and country in the world and found that not a single one drew a lottery at 8:23. Some were 8, some were 8:15, and others were 8:30. That left only the possibility that the lottery was drawn by accident at 8:23 and that I held a ticket in my hands.
I drummed up a plan where I would fly to a remote country that had a lottery at 8:15, call in a bomb threat from a pay telephone, and hopefully, that would delay the drawing until exactly 8:23. Assuming I was able to get away from the telephone, and that it wasn't being monitored with a camera, the plan felt unstoppable besides that it was a roll of the dice that the delay would work until exactly 8:23. I thought more about this and figured that if I could keep them on the phone and tell them to proceed at exactly 8:23, that would work.
So I went ahead and flew out on a Saturday morning and had a lottery ticket in my hands by 8:00. I'd researched the exact location I wanted to make the call from ahead of time, and the plan went off without a hitch, which was amazing given all the variables involved. I told the lady at the lottery corp that there was a bomb in the machine and that if they didn't draw the lottery at exactly 8:23 then the bomb would go off. They actually believed me and delayed the drawing! But when the numbers came out, I realized I had another loser.
Furious, I stomped back to my rental car and drove off as fast as I could. On my way back to my hotel I realized how stupid I'd been. There was a six-hour time difference between where I was and the place the genie had granted the wish. That meant that I really needed the lottery draw to happen at 2:23 P.M. local time.
*Grr.*
I was sitting in the hotel bed eating an ice cream I'd ordered from room service when I heard a knock on the door. When I looked through the peephole I saw two unformed cops. *Shit.* I opened the door, hoping that it was something other than they'd discovered that I'd called in the bomb threat.
Of course, they'd discovered that it was me who called in the bomb threat. A lady in a restaurant by the pay phone thought my car was strange and took down the license plate, which they then tracked down to my hotel room. How freaking unlucky could I be?
They took me to the station and booked me into jail. Overnight, I hatched a plan to get out. At 2:23 tomorrow I'd try to unlock the cell with something and escape before it turned 2:24. Surely this had to work.
So when the wall clock in the cell read 2:23 the next day I tried to hatch my plan. When it didn't work, I screamed out to the genie so that all the other prisoners in the jail could hear me.
"YOUR STUPID WISH DOESN'T WORK ANYMORE!"
I didn't expect the genie to materialize out of thin air with a smirk on his face.
"You forgot about daylight savings time!" he said.
And that's how I learned not to trust genies.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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At 8:21, I approached them.
โEvening, ladies.โ I said. โAnother round?โ
Three of the young ladies were engaged in rapid conversation. The fourth sat glued to her phone.
โWhat are you ladies drinking?โ I tried again.
โDude, take a hint.โ One of the trio said without looking my way.
The other two of the trio giggled. They continued chatting.
I flagged down a bartender, anyway.
โRound of shots.โ I said. โDoubles.โ
The trio exchanged glances. One motioned to my Rolex, perhaps thinking Iโd fund their evening.
โWell? Come on.โ One of the trio said. โIโm Megan.โ
Megan had been the one to originally shirk me. I hoped she would not fall for me.
โMegan,โ I said. โIโm Chris.โ
The other two exchanged hellos. The last girl remained on her phone.
My questioning look got an explanation.
โThatโs Maggie.โ Halley said. โProbably on Tinder.โ
Maggie made no reply, her thumbs moving with rapidity.
โWhatโre yโall celebrating?โ I asked.
โHa!โ Halley laughed. โThis looks like a party?โ
She motioned to the dingy bar. My face grew red, which I realized, became ashamed about, and grew even redder. Within a few seconds I was a deep crimson hue, though, less visible in the light, I imagined.
โOh my god,โ Maggie said, looking up from her phone. โLook how red he is.โ She tried to speak quietly.
Well, fuck you, too, bitch.
At that moment, the clock struck twelve. A chorus of angels sounded in my ear. A massive scale tipped in my favor, dictated by God or Satan himself.
โHey!โ Halley said, putting her arm around me. โIgnore her.โ
Halley whispered in my ear. โI live just down the block.โ
She leaned back, biting her lip, looking intently into my eyes.
I went with her.
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ka77hjf
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ka5squd
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[WP] You are an immortal, having to deal with the rather troublesome rumour that your blood grants immortal life. However, what those after your blood don't know is that since you can't die, you are an excellent host to several deadly bacteria and viruses-all existing peacefully in your blood.
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Waking up blindfolded and tied to a chair would be a jarring experience for most normal people. But I was anything but normal. In fact, this was not the first, secondโฆ hell, Iโve lost count of how many times Iโve woken up tied to a chair.
In fact, of all the times Iโve been kidnapped and tied up, this was probably one of my better experiences. At least they hadnโt strung me up like some prized meat to display.
My only real complaint was that the floor was damp and I could feel it through my socks, which made my leg feel slimy. Not a good feeling.
With a harsh tug, the blindfold was stripped off my face and my eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness all around me. I could make out a few bodies as they shuffled in place, but they were cloaked in darkness and made it hard to figure out how many persons had surrounded me.
โWelcome to our humble abode, time walker,โ a voice spoke. โIt has been quite a while since weโve had our eyes on you.โ
So it was another cult, that was a plus. At least it wasnโt some secret government agency. That would have made my escape far more difficult.
I shifted in my chair.
โSo whatโs your cultโs name this time around?โ I asked
โWe are not a cult,โ another voice hissed back in anger. โWe are a brotherhood, a lineage so great and so vast that has existed for centuries. We are the architects of modern society, hidden in the shadows that besiege the nights.โ
Yep, definitely a cult.
โYou, time walker, are the key to our future. Our forefathers have been watching you, learning about you, guiding you for years. They have passed down your secrets to their sons, who have passed it on to their sons and so on, and now, it is finally time to reap our reward,โ the first voice roared. โThe gift of immortality, flowing through your veins, will be our eternal fountain of youth.โ
Before I could say another word, a cloaked figure sprinted from the darkness with a decorative knife in hand and slashed at my wrist, spilling blood everywhere. He began gorging himself on the hot liquid that flowed from my wound.
The man relished the taste of my blood. It must have been a rush for him as he could hardly pull himself away, his eyes glistening in delight.
โOh you poor fool,โ I muttered.
In an instant, his body seized up, and his lips fell off my wrist as he stumbled backwards.
โW-W-What is this?โ He choked, coughing and wheezing.
โThat is your heart shutting down,โ I said, as he doubled over. โAnd your body rejecting my blood.โ
He clawed at his throat and screamed, but no sound from his mouth.
โItโll be over soon, very soon.โ
His eyes started to leak, not tears, but black sludge that stained his pale cheeks.
โYou have been watching me for centuries, but I have been alive for many millennia,โ I said. โYou are the architects of modern society, but I have seen countless other โmodernโ societies come and go, just like theis society will as well.โ
He tumbled to the floor, his legs giving out. I could feel the fear heightened as he looked up at me, but there were no pupils, no recognition, just white writhing eyes.
โThe Black Death, the Spanish Flu, COVID. It was all me. Oh, I may look young and healthy, but make no mistake, that is my curse. The blood that runs through these veins are not the fountain of youth, but a cesspool of death. Diseases you have not even heard about nor could nary imagine run through these veins of mine,โ I lectured as he wasted away. โBut I am cursed to live forever, like a porcelain doll that will never crack. But you, my dear cultist, well, youโre already dead, arenโt you?โ
He gave no response, not that he could if he wanted to. He was nothing more than a corpse, already rotting away as the diseases ate through his flesh.
I looked up back at the crowd of cloaked figures, and I could taste the fear as they slowly backed away.
โNow, who is going to be the one brave enough to come untie me?โ
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As an immortal deity, I have Seen Some Shitโข. However, the most interesting thing (And also the most annoying) is that people got the idea that my blood could grant immortality. Thousands of people have come to me, begged for a drop, and then dropped dead as soon as they drank it. Since my body has to contain omnipotence, only the strongest and deadliest bacteria can survive it. As a result, when mortals are exposed to these super-illnesses that have been stewing in the blood of a god, they die rather quickly. That didnโt stop people, though. One guy wanted to turn the bacteria and viruses in my blood into a bio-weapon, so I turned him into a poison dart frog. If you havenโt figured it out yet, I have a knack for ironic punishments. Letโs see, there was another woman who wanted to try and purify my blood to remove the viruses, so I gave her my blood just to see what would happen. She tried to heat it, but her chemistry equipment must have been from Wish, since the flask she was using to hold my blood cracked, then exploded. Her eyes were filled with my blood and shards of broken glass, so she died rather quickly. One idiot showed up with a gun and tried to threaten me for my blood. I just let him fill my body with holes while I glared at him. After that, I turned him into a sponge. Youโd think people would learn that my blood will kill them, but people still try to drink it. There was this one military outpost that was trying to harness โGodsbloodโ, as they called it, to rain democracy and freedom down on the enemies of America. I let them try until they blew themselves up. Thankfully, most people have stopped trying to get my blood, and since those idiots donโt know how to leave their dimension, that stupid idea stayed there with them. I havenโt been back there in a while, and I donโt plan on changing that. Alright, now you can print your โInterview with the Chaosbringerโ in your newspaper and leave me alone.
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jjs6qf8
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jjr0kjl
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[WP] What would happen if everyone in the world woke up in a different country?
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Guelph stroked his beard and sat back in thought.
He'd bought all the books off a wizard, cheap. The wizard said they were useless, but in Guelph's experience, books were frequently more valuable than they appeared. So he'd bought the lot of them.
They weren't useless of course. Propping up tables, kindling. But were they worth what he paid for them, which was more than for the equivalent weight of wood? They seemed to be spellbooks. An odd mix of simple and incomprehensible. They talked about energy, work, power, but then went straight to odd symbols. The introduction pages were sensibly numbers i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi and so forth. Later chapters were 1,2,3,4 or A,B,C,D, so he assumed 1,2,3,4 were letters of a foreign alphabet called "digits". Except the "Basic Algebra I" had chapters 0,1,2,3,4, what was up with 0? His best guess was 0 was one, 1 was two, etc, but usually one was skipped because it was considered too basic.
There were a lot of references to Algebra, so he focused on the Basic Algebra I. It was talking about Set theory and monoids and Galois groups, and had wilder symbols than most of the others. Occasional simple-looking charts, but then more nonsense symbols.
The "Materials Science" had a number of tables, with long strings of the 1234 alphabet, usually things like 1.2924e10. Looking through these, he noticed a pattern: 0.7372, 0.9372, 1.0137, 1.237, 1.537, 1.927, 2.375, 2.737, 3.527, 4.273, 5.620, 6.993, 8.532, 10.52, 12.77, ... along with a graph showing as smoothly rising curve, and digits 0,1,2,3,4 along the left side. It seemed that each entry had four digits, and 0 was as common as the others. And he had it wrong: 1 was one, 2 was two, and 0 was some lack of anything. That made ten digits (thankfully), and it seemed each one on the left counted ten times as much as the next one on the right, and the period separated whole numbers from pieces. Checking a number of other tables seemed to confirm that interpretation.
Back to Basic Algebra I. It had a subchapter, 0.4, describing the natural numbers 0,1,2,3, ... Guelph figured he knew what those meant now, but it immediately launched into rings, rational numbers (WTF) and real numbers (WTF) and rings of residue classes ... skip skip skip ... Peano's axioms 0 != a+, ah, no. Later there was 0+m=m and 0m=0 and mn=nm and 1m=m. The "=" probably meant "produces". And then 0+m might be addition, and 0m multiplication, given what 0 and 1 meant. Further skimming didn't seem to contradict any of that. He still couldn't tell what 0 != a+ was, or what "a" was for that matter.
After a month Guelph had figured out the symbols for numbers, addition, multiplication, and most of "algebra". But hardly any of "Basic Algebra I". That book was probably an advanced text purposely masquerading as an introductory one. These books were still mostly incomprehensible, but it was clear they were trying hard to be comprehensible, it's just that their subject matter was extremely dense. They had tables of content, indexes, and were careful to define terms before using them. It all seemed to link real things to math, and assume you could do math easily. Doing multiplication with 74\*903 was significantly easier than LXXIV\*CMIII.
There were books on electricity, quantum mechanics, material science, a CRC handbook of tables. But oddly, not magic. He looked through all the indexes, and no mention of magic at all! The only reference was "Gaussian elimination is the closest thing to magic in this world". Gaussian elimination ... yes, that was a fancy stylized way of finding solutions to problems, but it required an excessive amount of multiplication and division for anything over three unknowns. And it only worked if your problem matched that exact pattern. Possibly "quantum mechanics" was their word for magic? Hum, no, it didn't seem to fit. Whole books on leverage and material strain, but no mention of magic, who ever heard of constructing a building without magical assistance?
And the physics book claimed the speed of light was nearly incomprehensibly fast, but Guelph could easily demonstrate it was slower than sound. After all you always heard thunder before you saw lightning. So, at least in some ways, the physics book was plain wrong.
So Guelph sat back in thought. Perhaps the wizard was right, they really were useless. They seemed like a very exact description of the world. But not his world. In his world there'd be a book analyzing magic by numbers. And it would give the right speed of light.
Hum. What WAS the actual speed of light, anyhow? Or sound? The book had described the experiment where they had measured it. He could measure it himself. And then once he had the right numbers, the rest of the formulas ... they were just math, right? There's no way math can be wrong no matter what world you're in. It wasn't that hard an experiment. Come to think of it, EVERYTHING had come with experiments, allowing you to confirm for yourself what was true and what was not. Even if it turned out the formulas were wrong, they'd had experiments for how they found the formulas. It wasn't like your normal spellbooks, where they told you just the result and carefully hid how they had found it. They had bent over backwards to make sure there was no need to trust them. As if they believed taking anyone's word for anything was a cardinal sin. Hum, what sort of experiment would you run to measure magic?
Guelph felt his hairs raise on end as he thought about it. The results in the books were useless. But now that Guelph knew their method, that put him above all the spell books in the world. In ANY world. If he put in the work.
He set to work setting up some experiments.
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In the realm of Thorgrim, magic and mayhem were no strangers to the inhabitants. This was a world where dragons soared above cities, where elves whispered secrets of the forest, and where dwarves delved deep beneath the ground in search of their next masterpiece. The dwarves, a proud and noble race, were the greatest artisans of the land. Their talent for crafting exquisite artifacts, from the simplest tools to the most powerful weapons, was legendary.
But there was one dwarf, Gildor Ironfoot, who had not yet lived up to his race's reputation. Gildor had known only one passion in life: the art of forging metal. Everyday he spent countless hours by the anvil, hammering away in his small workshop, and yet he struggled to keep up with his peers. His tables were filled with trinkets and baubles that gathered dust, more kitsch than cutting-edge craftsmanship. As the days turned to weeks and the weeks to months, Gildor grew despondent. His business suffered, his reputation waned, and he began to contemplate his future, or lack thereof, in the world of blacksmithing.
One day, as he was digging through the clutter that had dimmed the once-bright corners of his workshop, Gildor discovered an odd sight. Nestled among the scraps of iron and steel lay a set of thick, rectangular, and peculiar objects - objects he had never seen before. He examined them closely, running his rough, calloused fingers over the hard surface, spotting words and symbols unknown to him. His curiosity piqued, he opened one of these strange, rectangular objects, revealing countless thin sheets adorned with more of the bizarre characters.
It turned out that these objects were textbooks, remnants of another world far beyond the reach of Thorgrim's magical influence. These tomes of engineering knowledge had been brought here by an apprentice wizard's spell gone haywire - the result of one too many liberties taken with the laws of the arcane. Unbeknownst to the wizard, he had inadvertently opened a portal, allowing the books to materialize in Gildor's workshop.
Driven by a thirst to understand their content, Gildor immersed himself in the textbooks, determined to unravel their secrets. He labored night and day, deciphering passages and piecing together bits of knowledge, identifying concepts and techniques that were wholly unfamiliar to both him and the realm. He discovered a unique synergy between the cutting-edge principles of engineering and the magic that fueled Thorgrim.
Soon, Gildor combined his newfound wisdom with the pride and craftsmanship of his ancestors, forging not only metal but also a new dawn for his own career. The world bore witness as Gildor's creations grew ever more intricate, his designs sophisticated and sleek. He built machines that harnessed the power of steam, contraptions that redefined what was believed possible in the realm of craftsmanship. Gildor Ironfoot's name echoed across the land, from the highest peaks to the deepest depths, and his reputation soared.
But it was not only the dwarf who benefited from this miraculous twist of fate. Owing to Gildor's innovations, grand creations that defied imagination sprung forth. Cities and villages transformed, prosperity blossomed, and lives were changed forever. The fortuitous discovery of those engineering textbooks brought about a new era in Thorgrim where science, engineering, and magic melded into a seamless, powerful union that shaped the world.
While the wizard's botched summoning attempt had at first seemed a disaster, it had instead eventually ushered in a golden age for Thorgrim. And as for Gildor Ironfoot, he stood at the forefront of change, the savior of a downtrodden workshop and the herald of an extraordinary future.
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jdbw1fn
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jdbl0e8
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[WP] An advanced Society that harvests distant sun's is contemplating whether it's ethical to take ours. Suddenly you are teleported to a stage, where its explained that you are chosen to make the case for humanity on earth, and everyone is watching. "Take it" You say, fresh off a long double shift
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The words tumble out of your mouth before you really have time to think about what you're saying. Vaguely, distantly, you're aware that it might have been wiser to take a moment to consider your words more carefully... But you're tired. You're thinking longingly of the leftover fried chicken waiting for you in your tiny apartment's refrigerator, of cold beer and your comfortable recliner.
The aliens watching you seem astonished by your lack of interest. Their surprise quickly turns to anger, and within minutes, the room is filled with the sound of intense arguing. You were brought before them to settle this ethical dilemma, but your response- your insistence that they simply "take it"- has had the opposite effect, reigniting the disagreement.
It seems like this might take some time. With a sigh, you raise your voice to ask a question, hoping you are heard: "Can I get a chair or something? I just got off a 16 hour shift, my feet are really killing me."
Your question halts the arguing. Suddenly, all of those strange alien faces are looking at you again, this time with a mixture of concern and sadness.
"The animal has been brought here, to the greatest society in galactic history, and given the chance to advocate for the survival of the world it comes from... But it can only think of its own discomfort." The words come from a large, green creature with tentacles for a beard. "Surely this is evidence that its world has no real use for its star... The animals that dwell there are not even capable of arguing otherwise." The tentacled alien bends down to peer at you with ruby, lidless eyes. "Frankly, this one barely seems sentient at all."
"I disagree." The second voice belongs to an exceptionally tall alien with a curiously elongated neck. "Terran biology is unfamiliar to many of us, to be sure, but a cursory med-scan will tell you that this Terran is exhibiting signs of exhaustion... Not that we *need* a med-scan to discern this, as the Terran has just explained that they have been engaged in physical labor for 16 Terran hours- roughly the equivalent of an entire Galactic-standard day cycle."
Whispers of awe and outrage sweep the room. The tall alien continues speaking.
"The need for excessive physical labor is indicative of a society that has not yet moved beyond enforced scarcity. In simpler terms, this Terran represents a civilization that is still in infancy." The tall alien regards you with a kind of gentle curiosity, like a documentary filmmaker observing a wild animal. "Our own society is as great as it is because we no longer practice this way of thinking. It would be an act of dire hypocrisy to snuff out a civilization in service of our own, just because it is less advanced."
A third alien, squat and seemingly formed of some kind of crystal, steps forward. "Well reasoned. I suggest that the harvesting of the Terran star be postponed until such time as the Terran civilization achieves an adequate degree of self-sufficiency."
"I suppose that is reasonable..." The tentacled alien muses. "Though I must say, I have some concerns as to whether the Terrans can achieve this independently. I propose stewardship, to ensure the planet's development proceeds at an acceptable pace."
The tall alien nods. "Fully agreed. My people have some experience with the stewardship of less advanced races, we will oversee Terra. I do not anticipate a lengthy occupation... Pending any resistance, of course."
You feel your blood running cold as the words you're hearing start to sink in. Suddenly, the prospect of weekend overtime seems like the least if your concerns. Your fear only grows when the tall alien turns to you again, smiling gently.
"Tell us of your world's defenses."
|
You heard what sounded like the worldโs biggest groan as the footage from the Earth cam practically shrieked in disappointment. You rolled your eyes and faced the beings before you. They towered over you and wore large robes that looked like they were made of flames. You couldnโt see their faces, but also you were still hungry as all hell from your 16 hour shift and didnโt care.
โWait, wait citizens of Earth hear your representative out. You may speak Earthling,โ said one of the beings.
โYou can take our sun. Sun no sun, makes no difference to me. I'm going to be running on 4 hours of sleep tonight,โ you said.
The Earth can suddenly flipped to face cam footage of all the worldโs major leaders.
โOh you idiot, you wonโt be sleeping at all if you let them take the sun,โ shouted one of the leaders.
โYeah just think of all the billions of people here on Earth you numbskull,โ said another.
โUghh this is boring, can you guys just take the sun and like beam me out of here or something?โ you said.
The worldโs loudest boo sounded from the cam.
โYeah yeah boo it up you guys donโt know what itโs like to work a double,โ you said.
โIโm working a quadruple!โ shouted a voice.
The beings looked at each other for a moment before they waved a hand and shouted in a booming voice.
โPlease shut up, yโall are getting on our nerves. You know we were just going to take your sun anyways but you guys have proven that all you can do is argue with each other endlessly. Your existence is punishment enough weโre out of here maybe weโll head to a good truck or something,โ says one of the beings.
They opened their flaming wings and took off into space. You sighed to yourself in relief. You would probably be the most hated person on Earth for the rest of time, but at least you finally got to go home.
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jfvb8gz
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[WP] Magic is dependent on language. Every school of magic works best in a different language. You just tried to cast a spell in a language you and your sibling made up when you were children, just for the hell of it, and were very surprised by the results.
|
Me and my sister stood there in shock, looking at the charred remains of the mountain. Beside us, our instructor blinked, utterly dumbstruck by the sheer power he had just witnessed.
"You literally just destroyed an entire mountain with a single word." he said breathlessly. "I thought the sacred language, the one which channeled the full power of the Goddess's magical blessings, was a myth, a fairytale told to children." He whipped about, looking at us both with a mixture of amazement and fear. "HOW?! HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?!"
"Beats me." my sister said. "I thought you guys were the ones who studied this stuff."
"Yeah, aren't you guys supposed to know the essence of magic and the words you use to cast it?" I added. I was honestly quite startled myself; back when we were little, before a magical refrigerator had transported us to this world, me and my sister had used these words all the time, playing at being wizards and casting spells at one another, or speaking in our own language to try and avoid our parents overhearing our childlike mischief. That was when we were, like, eight. We sometimes still joked about them. I never in my wildest dreams expected the words to actually have any power, let alone the raw force that I had just witnessed.
The instructor looked at us both. "Never in all my years have I come across such a spell." he muttered.
"Again, don't you guys study this stuff?" my sister asked. "You know, researching and studying potential spells?"
"Well, forgive us if we never thought to try the word 'poopydoopy' in a magical incantation!" the instructor exclaimed. He sighed, rubbing his brow. "Now I am seeing why perhaps you were sent to our world. Still... 'poopydoopy'... it's just so stupid I feel like a fool for even uttering it."
My sister got a quizzical look on her face. "I wonder what 'fartboo tinklesplat" does...." she said, holding out her hand.
A castle created entirely of gold suddenly grew out of the ground. Our instructor's jaw simply dropped.
"Wh... what in the goddess's name...." he stammered.
Well, now I was getting excited. "Zappypoo!" I cried out. Suddenly a tidal wave larger than the mountains rushed before me to crash into the crater where the mountain we had blown up had originally been.
"Kabingo bongo!" my sister exclaimed, and suddenly the entire land blossomed in fertile fruiting trees.
"Slappy buttbutt!" I shouted excitedly. Barely had I uttered the words when seven powerful dragons appeared at my command.
"Skeener mcweiner!" my sister exclaimed, suddenly raising up all of the dead people in the local cemetery, who went rushing happily into town to be reunited with their astonished families.
"Oogo buttoogo!" I cried out, turning all the stones around us to diamonds.
As we went on, the instructor just stared, his mouth open. "I... I think I must tell the king that our new young heroes are doing very well." he muttered. "And perhaps write to the wizard's guild to tell them about this new breakthrough."
|
โBomkin skosh!โ I said to my brother, grinning and crinkling my eyes.
He played along for a moment. Also smiling, he collapsed to the floor, writhing in fake agony.
It was funny for a moment or two, but when he continued flailing about, I began panicking.
I ran about the room, looking for a pillow, since I wanted to prop up his head.
I found a suitable pillow and put it below his head just as he began leaking the foam from his nostrils, ears, eyes, and mouth.
I recoiled as the substance oozed, forming a more distinct cottony texture.
The cotton fuzz ejaculated from his pores as he began making odd, high pitched squeaks, as though he were a mouse.
The foam stopped as abruptly as it had began. He lay on the ground, rounded to the size of a cylinder.
I pushed on his belly, and his body gave way to my shove.
โEeeeeeeeeek.โ He squeaked.
I leaned to pick up some of the fuzz that fell out of his mouth.
It looked just like the filling of our dogโs toys.
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jg0bcdf
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[WP] Humans have always been endurance hunters. We can endure untold physical, psychological, and emotional trauma. Being so unexceptional, we are mocked by the intergalactic community until war shows how terrifying it is to simply... endure.
|
It was a rock. That was what surprised me the most.
I continually believe myself beyond the point of surprise, incapable of being further shocked by these apes. I survey the dead sentries, and their unlucky attackers.
โThey must have crawled at least five miles from their forward trenches to get here,โ the hunt leader said, gesturing with a claw to the wasteland between us and the besieged human settlement. โTo stay under the scopes. They covered themselves in mud and dung. To mask the scent. And thermal blankets.โ My ears wink closed as our artillery started again.
โThermal blankets?โ I ask. I could see heat waves shimmering over the field. The hunt leader nodded, lifting up a ratty, muddy piece of material.
โThey hid under them the entire way.โ
โIn this heat?โ is all I can mumble, and I turn back to the corpses. I am fixated on the rock. It is gripped in the hand of one of the human attackers, still embedded in the skull of one of our huntresses. Her open eye lolls wildly toward the stone. I am still amazed that humans, despite our clear size and strength differences, would willingly engage in close combat with us. Sometimes, they even win. More often than not, it ended poorly. This unfortunate huntress had taken her attacker to the Ever Sunlit Lands with her, her fingers buried to the knuckles in his throat. I study the hand still clutching the rock. He must have continued bludgeoning her, even as she tore his throat open. He had lost all of his weapons in the scuffle, must have been at the limits of physical exhaustion, possibly already dying from his wounds...
And still, he picked up rock, and beat this huntress to death with it. To die like this, in a war that was taking place on dozens of planets...unthinkable.
โIt looks like the mud fouled their weapons,โ another huntress said, working the unfamiliar action of the projectile weapon in her hand. It utilized archaic chemical propellant ammunition. Outside of our artillery, we relied on energy weapons. Something as primitive as chemical propelled projectile weapons the modern battlefieldโฆit was like throwing stones.
And again, I regard the dead huntress, with her attacker lying on top of her. Stones still kill, and these humans were excellent marksman. They were as effective at utilizing fix-and-flank tactics as we were, and much better at countering them. Beyond every heavy weapons nest, a trench network. And in between and above those networks, razor wire, boltholes, false trenches. If those trenches were the only evidence we had of humans, we would have thought them hive creatures.
I rub my face. This was already a much longer war than we anticipated. I heard metal scrape against metal as the action to the weapon was finally forced open, the almost cheerful ping as a tiny, silver projectile flickered through the air.
โThey used grenades in the opening attack,โ the huntress mused, โAnd went to knives and shovels for the follow-on assault. I think they meant to try and use our weapons.โ
โOr retreat back,โ the hunt leader added. โI think thereโs less bodies here than there were attackers.โ
โThey never leave their dead.โ
โSometimes they do. When they have no choice.โ I say. The hunt leader shook her head.
โI donโt understand this,โ she hissed. โIt was too small to open a breach, there was no follow on assault. No one saw their approach but they attacked anyway, so the attack was the purposeโฆtoo well-planned to be spontaneous. Why do this?โ
The artillery continues to thump, and I grumble. My ears wink in protest at the sound. We had to learn the concept of artillery in this war. As well as trenches. Fortifications. Slow offensives. We have always fought our wars with decisive and swift assault. Find the weakest prey, hit with rapid and overwhelming forceโฆfollow-on. We had initial successes with that.
And then...none. Every battle was now slow...torpid. The humans no longer met us on the field, daring us instead to take every planet, every city. If we donโt, they attack our lines. Disrupt our logistics.
And they never surrender. I glance back along the muddy wasteland, my fur bristling at the stagnant humidity in the air. To crawl all that way, baking under a thermal blanket, choking on the stench of putrid mud and offal. All that, to get to this point, realize your weapons were inoperableโฆand attack.
โItโs to exhaust us,โ I say, standing up.
โPardon, Hunt Mistress?โ The question comes from a shorter huntress than the others. Her voice is soft.
โWeโll need to start rotating our sentries on more frequent and shorter shifts. Increase active trench patrols. To prevent another attack like this. And it means we will have to remain active. That was the purpose of this. To get us in a more active posture that will strain our morale and tire our troops.โ
โโฆsoโฆwe do nothing?โ This huntress was young, young enough to ask impetuous questions from genuine curiosity.
โNo, we must do all of that and more to avoid any otherโฆattempts. Weโll need toโฆadjust our sleep schedules. Rotate troops to and from the front lines.โ Iโm already tired thinking of it. Our people are diurnal. We have two very active times of day, in the morning and evening, and rest states in between. I have encountered more of my soldiers standing in the trenches asleep.
I myself have found times where I would lean against a tree for just moment. Close my eyes for a second. And I would open my eyes, and I had lost hours.
I remember reading the account of one human prisoner that was denied sleep, to make them more compliant. It was seen as the least intrusive means to induce cooperation. Most of us would make it two days before becoming passive enough to interrogate. This human went twelve days without sleeping, and died at the end of it.
โOrganize a burial detail,โ I finally chuff. โAll of them. The attackers, as well. This was a feat that requires honor.โ
โIt will be done,โ the hunt leader states, and she turns to issue orders. My tail swishes in agitation, and I begin the walk back to my command post, squelching through the mud. I do not believe we will lose this war. We have more troops, better logistics, better technology. ButโฆI do not believe we will win this war, either. We use more troops to control what weโve taken, and less to campaign. The momentum will shift. We will be caught in the press. I then stop, the face of the young huntress in my mind. The one who questioned. She looked so young, but it occurs to me that she was missing an ear. I tried to recall her name, and I could not. I donโt know any of their names.
Now they are all numbers. This is a war of lists and files. It has overwhelmed everything I do. I trudge back to my makeshift office. I slip through the tent flap, feeling the stifling humidity vanish in the dry, cool air within. I begin to shake. Iโve gone a long time without sleep, and all I can see is the rock. I see the mud, and trenches, and the same faces over and over as huntresses pant in the heat and tramp through brackish water. I see that young face, and I resist the urge to flee from my tent, to find her, to ask her name, to send her away from this place. To send them all away.
The guns finally fall silent, and the distant explosions carry on for a few more seconds. In the silence, I can hear my teeth chatter.
I canโt stop seeing the rock.
|
The Age of the Galactic community was magnificent. Races from all corners of the milky way gathered together to pursue free markets, exploration, and science. The most influential races in the community were Ablon and Kaylites.
Ablon we're a mature species from their conception; they were created as a sort of cyborg AI by a long lost species. They have some flesh they must maintain, but their humanoid bodies are mostly machine. They are revered for their intellect, compassion, and phenomenal negotiation skills that have prevented many galactic conflicts.
The Kaylites, on the other hand, are a far more militaristic species. They are extremely intelligent creatures with a past full of civil war planet-wide plagues and other hardships, and now are the decided protectors of the galaxy. With skin as hard as rock and fleets with dozens of battleships, the role has always fit them well.
"Captain Hendrick, you are required at the bridge," a female voice says
Hendrick opens his eyes to see a service crewman standing at the door to his quarters. He nods and rests his head back down on the pillow.
*Fuck me*
This is the one time in Hendrick's twenty-two-year-long career that the bridge felt like a place he had no business being.
He stands up and goes to his private bathroom, putting on his navy blue uniform and cap. While grooming his long beard, he pauses and looks into his eyes. A feeling of disgust comes over him, but he again pushes the feeling aside and replaces it with duty. As he takes a deep breath and straightens his posture, the remnant of burdensome thoughts slides from his mind. He steps out of his quarters and is met with silence. Usually, at this time, the ship is bustling with activity. The crew would be cleaning the walkways, runners rushing through the ship to hand reports to their superiors at the last second, and maintenance crews pushing carts across the grated metal floors.
But today. Nothing. Hendrick swallows, empties his mind, and takes a step in the direction of the bridge.
Humans. The word was almost a curse when heard by most of the galaxy. Greedy, dumb, and reckless are stereotypes galactic leaders would have agreed with within a heartbeat. From the Albon perspective, Negotiations with humans are very difficult due to the complexity of their governments, and migrating them to planets with any other species always ends in some kind of disaster. Kaylites always saw humans as a threat to the galactic order and pushed for a war of subjugation. A hundred years of this pressure ended the galactic community, and for the past twenty, there has been nothing but war.
"Why did they do it?" Hendrick mutters to himself.
As he enters the bridge, the crew's heads snap toward him, and their eyes widen. The bridge is a large room with about twenty crew members, a huge window looking out into space is a very striking feature in contrast to the dull gray metal and computer screens.
Hendrick makes his way to the center of the room, where a large chair is positioned. He sits down and immediately slouches, trying to ignore the crew's blank stares in his direction.
A voice pierces the silence. It's the navigation officer.
"Sir, we are in orbit around Kolaris"
"Rotate Starboard 90ยฐ," Hendrick says
"Yes, sir."
As the ship rotates, a planet comes into view. The crew's eyes light up for a split second.
The planet is huge and beautiful, it's mostly desert broken up by thousands of lakes and rivers. It looks like someone took blue yarn and frantically wrapped it around a basketball.
Hendrick's heart sinks as his head turns to the weapons officer.
"Is it ready?"
"Y-yes, sir. The admiral's final approval came in an hour ago."
Hendrick slowly stands up, walks over to the weapons officer's station, and plants a firm grip on the man's shoulder.
"Would you like to be dismissed?" Hendrick asks softly.
"Please, sir."
The officer lowers his head and walks towards the crew quarters. His boots slapping against the metal grates overpowers the hum of the engines and computers. After the door hisses closed behind him, the crew's attention falls back to Hendrick.
"Anyone else?"
The crew looks amongst themselves for a second, but nobody speaks.
Hendrick takes the weapon officer's station and momentarily operates the computer.
He stands up and sits in the captain's chair, slouching once again.
"It's done," he mumbles to his crew.
Their eyes widen, and they imminently turn their attention to the window. A small black object rapidly falls toward the planet. The next ten minutes feel like an eternity to Hendrick; his heart is racing. He plays with his beard and scratches at his chair. He knows, any second nowโฆ
A bright light appears on the planet's surface and starts rapidly spreading.
"Impact captain," one of the crewmen stumbles out.
Hendrick stands up rapidly and watches as billions of lives are consumed by a flame spreading across the planet at hundreds of miles per second.
Hendrick turns towards the communications officer.
โLet Earth know we wonโฆ Let humanity know we endured.โ
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j6w778r
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j6vztfj
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[WP] You encounter a group of 3 genies, and they each grant you one wish. One genie will grant your wish exactly as stated. One genie will ensure it's cast exactly how you want. The final genie will twist it to ruin as much as possible. But you have no idea which genie is which.
|
"...but be warned, we won't tell you how each of us will fulfill your wishes. You must use all your wit and cunning to avoid any doom."
I admit, I was pants-shittingly terrified. The dramatic lighting, the antique shop frozen in time, and just the whole confirmation of the supernatural. They clearly practiced and it paid off. It took me a minute to catch up to what they said and another to process it. For their part, they were patient. I didn't think about it then but it probably comes with being stuck in antiques for their whole existence.
"Uh, hello to you too. I think you've got the wrong guy, I didn't rub your lamp. Wasn't even close to it actually..."
"That is a misconception. Genies have several triggers to allow manifestation. And it is a decanter, not a lamp."
"Right, well, I'm gonna get back to shopping if you don't mind. My family's white elephant exchange has a dollar limit and everything here is too expensive."
"Your wishes await you. You could have anything and money would be no concern. Including an albino elephant fit even for Indra."
"That's not what it mea- ugh, forget it. Look, this morning I was an atheist and now I've got WAY too much to think about. I like my life. I love my wife and kids, we're about to shop around for our own house, and my job pays me enough to tolerate their crap for 40 hours a week. Well, realistically it's 45ish but-"
"If you do not desire wealth then health for you and your family. Answers to cosmic mysteries. Happiness to those less fortunate than you."
"Real quick, do you three practice alternating sentences like that or do you share thoughts? Fine, don't answer then. Anyways, those are real tempting but I'm not biting. Ignoring the fact you all seem a little too eager to grant these wishes, I've still got a one in three chance to unleash some monkey paw nonsense. You tell me I need to muster all my wit and cunning but folks, I know enough to know I don't have much of that. So I'm gonna walk away and enjoy the life I earned."
The three of them paused for about as long as I did at the start. Maybe they were as shocked as I had been but my guess is they were just trying to unnerve me. Whatever it was, they didn't so much as say goodbye before disappearing. The lighting went back to normal and I could hear cars drive by the shop again. It felt a bit anticlimactic but it's what I wanted I guess.
The old man running the shop called out from his counter, "Can I help you find anything?"
"No thanks. A winning lottery ticket maybe!"
"Hah, I wish!"
Next week, the place was boarded up with a sign saying 'Retired to Fiji'
|
"This is going to hurt."
In front of the three genies, I slapped myself, smashed my head against a brick wall, slammed my hand in a door, and threw myself onto the ground.
I then asked the genies, "What did I just do?"
The first genie said, "Well, you slapped yourself, smashed your head against that brick wall, slammed your hand in that door, and then threw yourself onto the ground."
The second genie said, "I just watched you kick your own ass."
The third genie said, "I just watched an insane person destroy their body to entertain their hallucinations."
I took a deep breath and sighed, "All right, I'm ready to start wishing."
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jwng63k
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jwmm3ax
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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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You'd think there'd be some honour among thieves, but he looked *far too* smug with that gun pointed at me. Too much for him not to be enjoying this.
"Alright, Miles," he said in a condescending manner. "I think it's time for us to go our separate ways. Specifically, me going towards luxury and comfort with the rest of our little gang, and you, well..." he cocked the hammer on the gun, "I don't much care."
I sighed. "So is this how it's gonna be?" I asked.
"You played your part in this little game well, but the truth is... it was rigged from the start. Frankly, I'm a little surprised you didn't see it coming."
"I did."
He tilted his head curiously. "That so?"
"Of course. Which is why I loaded your gun with blanks earlier today. I mean, did you really..." I smiled.
"Oh," he chuckled, "you mean *these* blanks?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pile of bullets - all marked with the tiny little indent on the side. The exact marking I used. "I checked them an hour ago. Like I said - you played your part well, but-"
"Is that the same gun from yesterday?" I continued. He frowned and nodded. "Right. So, the one with the firing pin filed down. Good."
Carefully, without turning the gun away, he inspected the inside and cursed quietly.
"I could've *sworn* that- bah. Doesn't matter. That's why I brought *this*," he said and pulled out a *second gun* from behind his back.
I did *not* see that coming.
"By the look on your face," he said calmly, "I assume you didn't find this one. So with that, I'll-"
"I was really hoping you wouldn't force me to do this, but..." I pulled out a small vial from my pocket. "This is-"
"The antidote to the poison you put in my coffee? Yeah. I know. It's why I switched the cups."
"Was that *after* I switched them *again*?"
"It was before I brewed a fresh new pot."
"With the-"
"Poisoned coffee beans?" he interrupted. "Of course not."
"I was going to see with the coffee pot I laced," I chortled. Finally, the ball was in my court and-
A laser appeared on my chest.
"I don't suppose you've met Laura?" he asked. "An excellent sniper, I must say. Now, if you'd be so-"
"Of course I know Laura," I replied and watched with satisfaction as the laser moved from my chest to his. "An excellent sniper indeed. And *very loyal*. I told her to aim at me first - a little bit of theatrics never hurt anyone."
A second laser appeared on my chest.
"Theatrical indeed," he nodded.
"It would appear we are at an impasse," I commended him.
"Not... exactly," he shrugged.
"*Hey, uh, Miles? We may, uh...*" the voice in my earpiece sounded quite concerned - never knew Laura to be nervous.
"Laura, I suspect, has just realized there is a man in her apartment with her wife. A man I am paying quite well."
"That man is an undercover FBI agent, I'll have you know. It took years for me to arrange for you to meet him."
"Oh, he flipped. You see, money..." he pointed at the pile of cash-filled bags at our feet, "money conquers all."
"I know he did. Why is why *I, and the rest of the Bureau*, set up this little operation," I revealed grandiosely and pulled out my ultimate trump card - my FBI badge.
"Wait," he stopped. "The **fuck**?!"
"And now it's time for justice- wait *what the fuck*?" I gasped as I saw him holster his second weapon and pull out something far more sinister - an NSA badge.
We stared at each other silently.
"*Hey, uh, Miles*?" Laura chirped in my ear. "*Is- is this something I should've been briefed on*? *No one back at the Agency mentioned*\-"
"Did you say *Agency*?!" I yelled at her. Looking up, I saw my partner-in-crime turned traitor turned NSA agent speak into his very own earpiece.
"*The fuck do you mean* ***DEA?!***"
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Jack pulls out a handgun from his waistband. Him and Russell are sitting across from one another. Scheming. Stacks of cash line the table.
Russell: โWoah, what the fuck!โ
Jack: โSurprised? I bet. I covered my tracks pretty nicely. Now, itโs time for me to take the leadโ
R: โBut - Whereโd you get a gun??โ
J: โDoesnโt matter. What matters now is that you hand over the money.โ
R: โListen man, you canโt do this. Itโs against the rulesโ
J: โI canโt? And why is that? Because you want to take it all for yourself?โ
R: โNo, come on, please. Take it easy.โ
J: โYou thought you were in control playing the banker? You think this is just a game? Iโm not fucking around.โ
Jack puts the gun to Russellโs temple.
R: โOkay, okay, whatever you wantโ
Russel hands over a stack of bills. Singles, fivesโฆ
J: โGive me the big bills or Iโll fucking shoot you!โ
He digs the gun in harder.
Russellโs hands shake to gather the bigger stacks of hundreds, five-hundred dollar bills.
J: โGreat. Now, Iโd like to propose a trade.โ
R: โWhatever you want. You're in control.โ
J: โIโll give you $5,000 for Boardwalk and Park Placeโ
Russel nods and slides the property cards to Jackโs side.
J: โOkay, now, Iโd like to build two hotels.โ
R: โSee, hereโs the thing.โ
Russell pauses to savor the moment.
R: โYou thought you were clever with your little trade. But, thereโs a housing shortage. I already used up all the hotels. You lose.โ
Jack scans the board. Full of Hotels and Houses. No pieces left.
J: โIt canโt be!โ
R: โSorry, Jack. You canโt rig the game, Iโve already won. Thatโs Monopoly baby!โ
Jack unleashes a primal scream and flips the board. Hotels fly like shrapnel as money rains from above.
END
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jtzym9r
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jtzseve
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[WP] You used to be the scourge of kingdoms, the reaper of heroes and the mere mention of your name scared even the toughest of them. But today no one remembers you and you are fine with that. You have lived in peace ever since until one day a stranger approaches you and calls you by your true name.
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[A year back I posted a similar [story ](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/s2wvb8/wp_when_the_humans_elf_girlfriend_broke_up_with/hsi5ifh?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=2) I'll try to change it up a bit this time]
*
Do you know what a scourge is? People may call him a reaper, people may call him death. But you know what most people really mean is a killer.
That is what he was, a killer.
He forgot what he was called for reaping the soul of heroes became his identity.
He forgot where his family was for the only addresses he remembered were of the souls he collected.
The only thing that remained was scourge. And that is what he was called.
Scourge.
*
Scourge saw the way curtains fluttered shut when he walked through a neighborhood. As if a mere curtain could save them from him.
Mortals and their irrational beliefs. He was one of them once. As naive and as foolish. He also used to see the ones who brought an end to heroes as monsters.
But now? Now the words he had read far back spoke to him through a veil,
*If you crush a cockroach, you're a hero. If you crush a beautiful butterfly, you're a villain. Morals have aesthetic criteria.*
He smiled. He didn't care about being a hero or villain. He just wanted to crush those who deserved it, and that included the self-righteous heroes too.
And morals? Morals belonged to those who did nothing else but preach. It is easy to hide behind the curtain of morals when you have a house to hang the curtains in.
"Matt? Matt Kline?" Someone called.
A name long forgotten. A memory long buried. And yet- and yet something inside him stirs at the sound of the name. Maybe it was the innocence that was lost or maybe it was the weakness that was conquered.
He turned to seek out the source of the voice. The one brave enough to speak with Scourge.
But the voice isn't calling for scourge, it's calling for a long lost memory, a voice inside him said.
A girl no older than 15 years is standing with her hands clenched around the straps of the backpack.
"I don't think you know who you are speaking to." He said gruffly. His voice was seldom used nowadays, in fact mostly it was used to taunt the heroes before he killed them.
"Yes, I do." She raised her chin defiantly, a gesture reminding her of a girl he knew a lifetime ago. "I have pictures of you."
He tilted his head, willing his memory to bring that hazy memory back to focus. But nothing. Nothing except a cheerful laugh that echoes in the darkness of what used to be his memories.
"Who are you?" He asked.
"May. May Rogers." She answered without any hint of fear.
Yet again that laugh rises up inside him, a sweet bubbling sound. A bright light in the darkness inside him.
And for the first time in years, he felt his heart pounding.
"Go away." He said turning his back to the girl.
"No." She said.
She sounded closer. She soon drew up beside him.
"What do you want?" He would have preferred to face a well-intentioned hero instead of this girl. Her mere presence was raising memories he had buried a lifetime ago.
"I want you to come back home!" She said with a finality that he smiled.
Home. He had forgotten what that word felt like even in his mind. He dared not to speak it because he knew he would lose some part of him now while chasing for something he lost long ago.
"You have the wrong man." He said not looking at her. Looking at her hurt for some reason.
"No. You are Matt Kline. You were born to Glen and Ellen Kline. You have a sister Grace Kline. Your parents died-"
"Enough!" He said harshly.
The smiling faces of four strangers flashed in his mind. He pushed the image aside then glanced at the girl who looked chastised. And he felt an emotion he hadn't felt in decades. Guilt.
"I am not who you think I am." Not anymore.
"But you are." She said firmly, her fight renewing at his, not kinder but neutral tone. "You are my Granduncle! My Grandma is Grace Kline!"
Gracie. A memory of a girl in pigtails smiling. A girl he thought he lost that day when the heroes were saving the world.
"She misses you. I know she does. She has your picture and tells us about you. How you were the best brother in the world-"
"Don't." His voice was oddly choked.
The memories were trying to suffocate him. It was getting harder to breathe.
She placed a hand on his elbow, making him jump. "Come home. She is sick. She wants to see you."
Could he? Could he go back and watch his sister die again?
No, but he could watch his sister live.
Unlike the last time.
"Come home." She repeated softly.
"Okay."
*
[You can find more of my stories at r/iknowthisischeesy]
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I decided that I would write this note and leave it here for anyone who can decipher my handwriting to read. To hopefully understand that I am genuinely remorseful for what I have done before I came to this place.
They came for me in the dead of night when I was a child. That night broke me and allowed them to reshape me in the image they desired. As I grew in body, so I grew in rage and I dedicated myself to the training they demanded. They stole my name and replaced it with their own.
And I let them because I wanted to please them. And I hated myself for it.
Eagerly I embraced the Destiny that they set before me to prove my worth. With their enchanted equipment I was unstoppable. First I crushed their enemies, than I crushed them.
None could stand against me, my armor repelled the strongest blows and my blade was imbued with unholy rage. I stalked the land with a gathered flock of fiends and harried villages throughout the land.
Until one day while I sat in a brown study, I heard someone speak my name. The name my mother had called me by, so long ago. But that was not her voice, so I turned to see who it was.
An old man in clean, neat robes stood by a tree, gazing about with a natural casualness.
โYou have done terrible things.โ
โI have.โ I agreed with him. And to my great surprise, I discovered that there was no sarcasm in my voice. He was not accusing, simply stating a fact, and it was the lack of judgement that affected me, I think.
โDo you think that Goswin would fear you?โ
Goswin? I had not heard that name in a lifetime, although I thought of him far more often that I would readily admit. We had been boys together; I was tall and strong, but Goswin was small and frail.
He had the quick, bright disposition of a squirrel. I envied him, his joyous, carefree nature because I sensed that, were circumstances different, he could be my brother. Together we could have roamed the countryside as heroes, and I suspected that was his secret desire as well.
Instead, I allowed others to guide my path, no matter how much it sickened and enraged me to be so weak.
"I can't fix it. There's no way to undo that kind of damage."
"No, you can't." The robed man shook his head and shrugged. "You can start over. You can be better."
And I knew he was right. So, I put aside my weapons and my armor and I left that life behind. I came here and built a school so that they could learn. Then I built a library so they could study.
And still, I find myself an outsider. I do not trust myself to become to close to these people, least I inadvertently poison them. So perhaps it is time for me to move on once again, and strengthen a new community.
โ
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jksziaq
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jks6pzb
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[WP] The Wendigo had stalked the lost human for hours, waiting for night to fall before killing its prey. But when it was ready to strike, it hesitated. The humans head had snapped in the creatures direction, walking and staring, in complete darkness. Their eyes never moving from the Wendigoโsโฆ
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My hunger consumes me. It is knives in my stomach, a cold wind raging down my gullet. It squeezes my eyes, tears at my skin. There is no respite, no relief. My maw drips with the blood of elk and bear alike, and my tongue works endlessly, licking and lapping, finding the grooves between my teeth, extracting every last morsel of meat and every drop of blood. Winter is all around me, snow blanketing the ground, the last rays of the day glinting through icicles hanging from branches. I stalk forever forwards, slipping soundlessly through brush and around trees, my antlers grazing bark. Deep within my chest, my heart sits heavy and cold, forged from ice and blood and stone. It aches with feelings long past, feelings I no longer recognize. Shades live in the deepest reaches of my mind, just out of sight. Bonds I once had? Other beings like me? There are places in there too, so different from the cold forest of my torment. Sometimes, when I sleep the deepest, I hear low voices, calming tones. But when I awake, the only thing that is true to me is my craving desire, insatiable.
Iโve been following the smell for hours. Something new. Something warm and full, a beacon in the dark forest. When I first fell upon the footprints, I dropped to all fours and licked them for minutes, so sweet the taste. Life. The smell is strong, pungent. I can feel the heat they leave behind, so vigorous. Hot breaths pushed into cold air. Theyโre close now. I can hear the soft crunch of feet, muttered words.
I watch it from the treeline. Iโm drooling. Black saliva drips from my chin, freezing when it touches the ground. My body vibrates with anticipation, and I am devoured by desire. But I wait, and I watch. I am not the dark shadow in the forest because I am rash, but because I am patient. I am winter and death incarnate, a being made of frost and brine, so cold are my claws, so deadly and beautiful.
The thing has made a hovel, taken parts of my forest and sewn them together. They sit before a blinding light, so bright I can hardly look. I watched them create this light from stone, an impossibility. It paints my forest in orange and yellow hues, dancing off and through the ice and snow around me. The light is a nuisance, an affront to the forest, but the longer I look, the dimmer it seems. The thingโs face is illuminated. Plump and round, flushed red. I can hear its blood pumping through its veins, hot, waiting to burst free.
Soon, the light has all but vanished. Only hot red embers remain, easier on my eyes. I creep towards the being, my footfalls soundless in the snow. My head aches with longing, my long maw slowly opening and closing. In a few long strides, I am upon them. I bend down towards their face, my claws reaching towards supple flesh, but something gives me pause. Familiar angles, and shadows. I take the creatureโs hair in my long fingers, feeling and smelling. Their eyes snap open, boring into my own. They do not scream, or move, and neither do I. Two creatures, locked together, frozen. They speak.
โIs it truly you?โ
I cannot understand, but something about the tones is so familiar, buried so deep, packed so far under ice and dirt that I thought I had forgotten it altogether. In the dark forest, the cold wind blows, the freezing snow falls, and I feel a chill. A chill so cold, so strange, that under my taut blue skin, past my iron ribs, deep in the darkest pit of my chest, a small crack appears on my heart.
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Their eyes never moving from the Wendigoโs mouth. They started speaking. Yelling. Visibly angry. Their pace began to speed up. Towards it. Their face still red, still yelling, started crying. They were flailing their arms with fists on each side. There was no violence in them. The Wendigo did not fear for it's life. It could not understand human speech, and never needed it. The only things that it heard from humans were grunts and screams. But this human was trying to communicate. It had never experienced this. The human was rapidly closing the gap.
Some of it's prays did react violently to the sight of their demise, but is was always too late. There was never much it's prays could do. The Wendigo would always overpower them with the element of surprise, it's speed and it's natural instinct to devour lonely humans. That was, after all, its poupose. But those humans wanted to survive. They would fight the Wendigo, even though they stood no chance escaping their ultimate fate.
But this human was different. It ran towards the Wendigo, not away. It was red with rage, but not directed the Wendigo. No. Rage to their own race. Seeking the Wendigo as a means, not as an misfortune end.
The Wendigo closed it's jaws as fiercely as many times before. The human was no longer alive. A brief scream would have been heard by passersby. No one was around. The Wendigo turned it's bloody face to the trees. Another human just turned left, when they should have turned right. That would have been the last time they would make such a terrible choice. That would be their last choice.
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jeaxhuu
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je8ga1g
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[WP] You're in a hospital after surviving for 3 years in the wilderness. What a way to find out that plane crash didn't isekai you. Once everything settles down, you begin to wonder... If this wasn't another world, how are you able to use magic now, and why did that island have demon beasts?
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Math 100 is a huge class. Easily 200 students in a big lecture hall. Even in that sea of people, she stood out to me.
Long jet black hair, black nail polish, black lipstick, lots of real leather both on her clothes and for her accessories, knee high black boots with a heavy sole. No one dressed like her and no one looked like her. She did her own thing in a room bursting with conformity.
She asked sharp questions, in a soft but commanding voice, in class. Her questions brought clarity to everyone who listened.
She sat in the same spot every class but didnโt mingle with those around her. She was alone but didnโt come off as lonely.
I occasionally saw her on the campus quad, usually under the shade of a big elm tree. Never doing anything, just sitting and basking in being outside.
Itโs not that I was stalking her or anything - I just always seemed to notice her when she was about. Just about her, always captures my attention.
โโโโโโโโโ
โDude,โ Justin says as we are walking through the quad, โyou are staring at her again.โ
โI am not staring. I am justโฆ. noticing herโฆ sitting there,โ I said defensively.
โYou need to go say โhiโ already. Your *noticing* is starting to get creepy.โ
He was right. I was staring too much, too often.
โFine! Fine! I will go talk to her,โ I said, trying to convince myself this wasnโt a horrible idea. I walked across the lush green grass of the quad. There were students lounging around, some playing frisbee, some just goofing off. It was easily my favourite place on campus.
I walked towards the tree she was under, I could still veer off, I could still bail out - should I? Fuck I am getting close I gotta -
โHi,โ she said simply as I got close. โI was wondering if you were going to get the nerve to talk to me.โ She was smiling a bright genuine smile that lit up her face.
I awkwardly sat down opposite her.
โYou noticed, huh?โ I said, running my hand through my hair.
โYou arenโt exactly subtle,โ she says still smiling.
We chat the afternoon away. Little things - our majors, what dorms we are in, our professorsโฆ all of the usually university chit chat. She was easy to talk to. So comfortable in her own skin - in who she is.
We talked through my 3pm class and through her 4pm class. We were both enjoying ourselves in a way that I have never had while talking to someone else. It just all felt so right.
โI should get going,โ I finally said, glancing at my watch. โI have volleyball practice and my coach will tear a strip off of me if I am late.โ
I stand up and offer her a hand up. She takes its. Her hand is warm. It is unexpectedly calloused, like someone who does lots of work with their hands, and much stronger than I expected. I pull her up.
โSee you tomorrow, in math class,โ she says with a wink. She takes a step and then leans against the tree, letting out a little grunt.
โHey, you ok?โ I am instantly worried for her.
She hangs her head and takes a couple of deep breaths.
โFine. I am fine,โ she lies.
She is clearly not alright.
โI will walk you to your dorm. I have time,โ she starts to protest, โDonโt. I will walk you. Canโt have you passing out half way there.โ
She takes my arm in hers and we walk to her dorm.
The chit chat has died out and she looks apprehensive. Scanning the quad - she is tense and on edge.
The sun is dipping behind the campus buildings, casting the quad into premature twilight. The lamp posts flicker and come to life - one by one.
I keep trying to get her talking but I am just getting one syllable answers. Something has her preoccupied.
We are almost at the dorms. There is a rustling over by the dumpsters. She freezes. Tension runs through her body and I can feel it in her arm. Her breathing speeds up.
โItโs ok, we are almost there. It is just a couple more metres,โ I say reassuringly.
A shadow separates itself from the dumpster. Must be someone dumpster diving. Seems harmless. The shadow starts coming towards us, walking then running.
She brushes my arm off and squares herself to the shadow.
โFuck,โ she mutters under her breath. She drops her backpack and stand with her legs shoulder width apart and her arms loose. Her hands start to glow in a bluish white light.
The shadow is clearly a man, about our age, running towards us. His face is covered in messy rotten food.
โDie! Witch!โ He yells.
She swirls her hands around and then suddenly pushes them out from her centre. A ball of bluish white light blasts off from her hands and hits him in the chest. He staggers and then falls to his knees.
She runs to him, spinning her right arm, windmill style. The bluish white light gathers on her hand. She leaps at him - just as she is about to land the light from her hand lashes out like a blade - slicing him in half.
Stunned - I shake my head and walk over to her.
โAre you alright?โ
โYeah,โ she says panting.
Looking at the guy, sliced cleanly in half, lying on the ground in front of her and then back to her.
โWhat the hell is going on?โ I say, terrified.
She takes a knee in front of the body. โGhoul,โ she says. โIt was rooting around in the dumpster for rotten food. They usually feed on dead animals and people but anything filled with decay will do in a pinch.โ
Her eyes never left the body as she spoke. A soft light emanated from her hands. She pressed them to the ground in front of the body. The grass started to glow. The glowing spread and enveloped the ghoul as well. Then the whole thing gets swallowed up by the grass.
She stood up and looked into my wild eyed face. She smiled slightly.
โI am Angela and I am a witch,โ she gave a slight tilt to her head, โI donโt usually tell people in such a dramatic fashion but ghouls are an abomination that have to be dealt with. They will corrupt everything they touch. It had to be dealt with.โ
โOk,โ I said simply. Somehow I wasnโt bothered or even phased by this. I handed her the backpack she dropped and we walked to her dorm.
I open the door for her.
โYou good?โ She asked as she went in the door. โYou have been awful quite sinceโฆ. Since the ghoul.โ
โI am good,โ I said with a smile. โYou didnโt need me to walk you back at all. Did you?โ
โNo, but it is very sweet,โ she said with a smile. โSee you tomorrow?โ
โYou know it!โ
She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and headed into the dorm.
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It was going well until she found out I'm a furry. But we're getting ahead of ourselves, aren't we?
It was your average Monday, and I kept sneaking glances at Laria who was sitting a couple rows over from me. She was our resident goth when goth as a style was dying out, and there were rumors she was a witch. Arthur, noticing my furtive glances, dared me to take her out on a date, and despite my insistence that I couldn't - I didn't even drive a car - he and a bunch of other guys insisted, and transportation would not be a problem since one of them volunteered to double-date with his girlfriend.
So now it was Friday night, and we skipped out on the football game to go to an Italian place, which Laria and I decided on. The four of us got our orders in, and then it was time for conversation. Gerald, the guy who was dating Hannah, let slip the fateful remark, and I felt a chill in the air as Laria fixed me with a strange yet powerful stare, and I felt electricity flow between us as something clicked in place.
The rest of the date proceeded without incident, and we went out separate ways as Gerald dropped each of us off. Laria gave me a kiss as I stopped at her door, and the sparks seemed to intensify.
That night was the most painful one I ever had, and I passed out at some point for the rest of the weekend, even missing church that Sunday. When I awoke early Monday morning, I was thirsty above all else, and so I went to the bathroom for a drink of water.
Turning on the light, I was grateful I held a plastic cup, the strange sensations from my proprioception making sense now as I beheld the body of an anthropomorphic bassarisk, and I realized Laria had turned me into what I now knew to be my true fursona. *Odd,* I thought, looking up what I had become. *I've always thought of myself as a wolf, but...this ['ringtail'](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ringtail) fits me to a T.*
I suddenly grew a big self-conscious, noticing I was naked, and shuddered as I thought of the fright I must have given my folks. Only then did I realize all the time I had lost as I glanced at the date on my phone, and got to work right away on the homework that would be due later that day.
When I got to school that morning, I noticed that despite how different I was, people were treating it as though it was...normal? Then I realized that they were whispering not about me, but about *Laria,* and I turned around and beheld the most beautiful bassarisk woman I had ever seen.
First period was awkward as the teacher seated us next to each other, muttering something about the consequences of wish fulfillment and curses whilst offering congratulations, and Laria mentioned to me that the teacher is her father. With a common name like Smith, I wouldn't have guessed. She promised to explain everything to me at lunch, and I reluctantly agreed, though I wanted to know right then what was going on and why both of us were bassarisk people.
The explanation took the whole lunch period after we got our meat-laden meals, and now I understood why her dad was both upset and elated. Apparently if a witch or wizard transforms someone into something else by a curse or fulfillment of a wish, that person's soulmate is transformed as well in order that no barriers be erected in the way of true love. And so, when she transformed me into my true fursona, she became her true fursona as well, and since we were soulmates...
Years have gone by since then, and after graduating from high school and college, we are the proud parents of many children, all bassarisks as well...at least until they meet their soulmates. Then they become their soulmate's true fursona. Having this "curse" be passed down and propagate through further generations does not concern us; after all, humanity needs to speciate, as 8 billion of a single species is too much. And it turns out we weren't the first to undergo such a transformation, as descendants of other such couples from throughout history have come out of the woodwork to help us find jobs and other things necessary for functioning in society. You know those mascots you see at sports games and theme parks? A good number of them actually have actual furries underneath.
As I lay here with Laria in my furred arms, making love once again, I once more thank Gerald for mentioning that small detail about me. Without that remark, I would be a lot worse off in life right now. That sly fox...
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jgw26po
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jgvugju
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[WP] When a human crew refuses to leave on a ship numbered 13, an investigation reveals human "superstition" for the first time to other races, who are baffled by the concept
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I let out a moan. Our team has been monitoring camera stream from Pathfinder for days. It was one of humanity greatest achievement, we were able to establish a consistent video stream to one of our neighboring planet after all.
However, after the initial cheer wears out, it was honestly pretty boring. What appear on the screen was an endless desert consisting of red sands. From time to time, my newer coworkers has asked me to check the screen, but every single time I do what's there is just a big old nothing.
There were no spaceship, no alien in mars. It's just an endless desert. Well, that is until...
"Ralph, check the feed.", My coworker called me again, waking me from my daydream. I reluctantly look towards my screen, preparing to explain that what they see is just a disturbance in the signal or Fata morgana. However, instead of that, what I saw made me completely speechless.
A large object, so big that it didn't even fit in our rover display was seen in the display. It was made of metal, and its front is buried within the desert. Some part of the metal was missing, like it been ripped apart by something.
However what baffled me the most was what written on its body. "USS-Proteus", there are no mistake, it was a human language and what seems to be a code for US Navy.
"That name feels familiar-", one of my co-worker says. She seems searching in her computer for several minutes before getting back at me.
"Si- sir.", she continued, her face pale grows pale. "It's a US Ship, dated back from World War 2. Reported missing at Bermuda Triangle."
"Get a better look!", I ordered, my coworker in charge of moving the rover nodded in approval.
What comes next, is something out of science fiction.
A Graveyard, full of Ships and Planes, all of them sinking to the desert. Some of them had been carefully ripped apart, something impossible to achieve by just crashing.
Even without identifying them one by one, we could deduce where these shipwrecks came from.
"What the hell is this!", I muttered. "Is this place connected to the Bermuda Triangle somehow!?"
None of my coworker responded, they must've been just as shocked by the sight.
I quickly move my hand to dial my superior. This is a big discovery. However, before I could do that, I notice something even weirder.
In a moment of blink and you miss it, I could notice something on the top right corner. Whatever it is, they were Flying.
"Sir- did you see that!?", one of my coworker, who apparently noticed the same thing asked me.
"Yes, that is-", I answered, but before I could finish, a voice come from the phone I'm holding.
"Hello, what's the matter?", the voice asked.
"Yeah Administrator. We found something that might interest you. Can you come here as soon as possible? This is big news!"
"Hold that thought.", he replied. "The President just called for an emergency meeting. Can you do it after lunch?"
"Huh- did something happens?",
"There was an unidentified object flying from the Atlantics, The Defense Secretary think they're the Soviets."
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โHey, look at this.โ
โLook at wha- holy shit. Are thoseโฆ boats?โ
โYeah.โ
โAnd planes?โ
โYeah.โ
โWhere did those come from? Mars is 152 million miles away from Earth. Is itโฆ aliens?โ
โDefinitely not. If you look at these planes here, they are members of flight 19, some bombers who went missing in Bermuda. That canโt be a coincidence.โ
โSo your saying this is where all the ships & planes have been going? Theyโve been going to Mars? That doesnโt make sense.โ
โIt may not, but there are a staggering amount of ships here which are US navy. If most of these ships & planes are identified as missing Bermuda cases, I think thatโll give us our answer.โ
โRightโฆ but, this also opens up a question. How did they go to mars? Is there a portal in the Bermuda Triangle.โ
โIf we get our answer, we could probably send a space probe over to Bermuda to find out. And if it works, we might just have easy access to Mars without needing to fly for over a year.โ
โRight, but what about the other countries? Russia & China? What if they found out about this.โ
โThey wonโt.โ
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j6cdod0
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j6btf39
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[WP] A man finds a genie's bottle, complete with a real live genie. Instead of blindly asking for wishes, he first asks politely for the genies advice on what to wish for.
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The prop room of the studio was cluttered, dusty, and dimly lit; not the expected place for anything magical to happen. Several of the lights in the back corner were out, making it hard to see finer details like the labels on the props. The film studioโs new assistant prop handler, a man in his late twenties, was in the back of the prop room trying to dust off the label on an Aladdin-style lamp. His job title made him sound more important than he really was. If anything, he was more of a glorified PA. The higher-ups would give him a list of prop and costume ID numbers, and heโd gather them up and bring them to the set as quickly as he could. Passing the PAs in the halls, he couldnโt help but think: if he were carrying cups of coffee rather than a trolley of props, his title and payroll would be the same as theirs. Itโs not like he could really complain; he was getting paid more for a task of equal labor after all! It just wasnโt what he had hoped for when he moved to Hollywood to join the film industry.
As the man brushed his sleeve against the golden lamp, he suddenly felt a tingle like static electricity along his skin. The broken lights in the corner of the room flicked on.
โHuh,โ the man said, glancing up. He looked back at the lamp, hoping to be able to read the string of numbers now, but instead his gaze rested on a small orb of light on top of the lamp. The light was shaped like a small person, no more than a couple inches tall. It sat atop the lamp, swinging its feet and looking around the storeroom curiously.
โItโs gotten awfully dusty in here since the last time someone let me out,โ the light remarked.
โWhat are you?โ the man asked, realizing too late that his question sounded rather impolite.
โIโm a genie,โ the light replied. โI thought that was kind of obvious, given the whole rubbing-a-lamp-and-me- showing-up thing.โ
โI didnโt mean to summon you,โ the man said.
โEven if you didnโt, you still get three wishes,โ the genie said, hopping onto a stack of dictionaries. โSo hit me! Whatโll it be, boss?โ
The man cleared off a spot on a ratty sofa and sat down. There were plenty of things he could wish for. His career journey- and his move to Hollywood- left much to be desired. On an even larger scale, he could ask for perfect health for his family, a billion dollars, or even world peace!
He put his head in his hands, feeling overwhelmed by the possibilities. After a few moments, he looked up and addressed the genie.
โYouโve been around a long time, right?โ he asked. โWhat do you recommend?โ
Even without distinct facial features, he could tell the genie was surprised. โWhat do I recommend you wish for?โ
โYeah,โ the man said, rubbing the back of his neck. โI bet youโve seen it all. The selfish wishes, the stupid wishes, the wishes that were more of a monkeyโs pawโฆ If anyone would have good advice about this, it would be you.โ
The genie shook his head and hopped onto a shelf next to his stack of books. โLook kid, as depressing as this might sound, I donโt believe in wishes.โ He slid down the bar of the shelving unit like a fireman pole and landed gracefully on the linoleum tiles. โIโve granted many, many wishes and I have yet to see someone make one they didnโt regret.โ He picked up a golf pencil that had rolled into a corner and pointed the tip at the man sitting on the couch. โWishes ruin people. Whatโs that one quote? โWhen the gods wish to punish us they answer our prayers?โโ
The man nodded. โOscar Wilde.โ
โSee, you get it!โ The genie said, jabbing the pencil in his direction. He tossed it over his shoulder before continuing. โI know the contract here is that you kind of have to make 3 wishes, but you asked for my opinion and my opinion is to find a way out of this mess.โ
The man thought for a minute while he watched the genie examine random items he found under the furniture. The genie was halfway under a loveseat, reaching for god knows what, when the man spoke again.
โHow long have you been alive? Like how long have you been stuck in the cycle of waiting for someone to summon you and then getting trapped in the lamp?โ
The genie pulled his head out from under the loveseat. โA long time.โ
โDonโt you ever wish you could do something else?โ
The genie laughed shortly. โInteresting choice of words. And even if I could make my own wishes, Iโd probably just become as greedy and selfish as you humans. No offense.โ
The man thought back to the PAs heโd seen getting ordered around every day. They could use a few wishes. And his dad, who had been battling cancer on and off for years now. Hell, even the homeless man heโd seen outside on his way to work needed these wishes. None of them had rubbed a dusty old lamp in the props room, but that didnโt mean they deserved this opportunity any less.
โWould you be interested in a bit of a career change?โ he asked the genie cautiously.
The genie looked up from the penny heโd been inspecting, intrigued.
โI was thinking I could use one of my wishes to free you, and your new job would be traveling around and granting the wishes of strangers. Like little acts of kindness.โ
โAh, and since they wouldnโt start out with the knowledge they have a wish, the greed wouldnโt get to them!โ The genie added. โI like the way you think.โ
โI only need the one wish, since youโd be free immediately after and you wonโt be obligated to fill the other two anymore.โ
โRight,โ the genie said.
The man sat up straight and squeezed his eyes shut. โIn that case, I wish you were free from the lamp and could grant the wishes of strangers you see who might need them.โ
He opened his eyes, but the genie was gone. The lights overhead winked out. Everything looked exactly the same as when he had walked in, but he knew that the world had just changed.
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Genies are notorious tricksters. They always have been depicted and portrayed as entities that will deceive and half truth in ways that alter the meanings of your words to give you the opposite of what you wished for. Or, at least thatโs what I recalled when I picked up the lamp.
I had been doing an archaeological dig with my cohorts in a small village when we came across the lamp. We decided that it would be best to call it in before we messed with it, as these kinds of things are taken very seriously within my team. One of our guys just had to watch Raiders of the Lost Ark last summer and ever since he got the boss so hyperactive about the worries of artifacts harming us. And honestly, I thought about showing them the Last Crusade, the chalice scene would make them flip!
The boss shows about an hour later, and insists we hand it over. When I go to reach for it, however, my untied shoelace catches me by surprise and I begin to fall face first towards the dig table. Just then, the ground around us began to shake. Smoke started billowing out of the spout, and just then, the genie shouts: โHAHAHAHA! At last I am released! Tell me, boy, what can I do for you?โ
Reasonably, the boss is pissed. โI TOLD YOU NOT TO MESS WITH IT!โ As soon as he finishes, the genie snaps, and his mouth is gone! The boss falls to the floor in fear, writhing and grunting reasonably. โSILENCE! My master has the floor.โ
I figured that must be me.
โH-hello m-mister genie sir. How- how do you do?โ I gulped.
The genie looks at me and laughs a hearty laugh, once again rumbling the floor. โHow do I do? How do I DO? I do fantastic! Do you know how long itโs been since Iโve conversed with your kind? Do you know the power I wield? I can make any of your wildest wishes come true! You can trust me, after all, Iโm in no position to lie.โ
And he was right, he was in no position to lie. I was his master. Or, was he? I thought for a moment, looking around at my team as if to say โanyone wanna help here?โ They all just shrugged, or shivered at the potential mistakes we would make. Ultimately it was going to be up to me.
โThatโs uh, thatโs swell mister genie. Say, can I wish for my bosses mouth back?โ
Your wish is my command, I heard in my head as my boss began to scream, seems as though he got his mouth back.
โScott! Stop this at once! Wish for him to go back in the bottle! Wish for no more wishes! Do not do business with that thing!โ
My boss had a point, I was lucky that one wish went over so well. I had to think, either I could solve the worlds problems, or they would be spun in a way that it could only cause more. And, what of my job? This was all an accident after all, I had no reason to get myself fired.
โAlright, g-genie!โ I swallowed, and tugged at my collar. I needed to calm down. I was overplaying this in my head.
Then it hit me. What would the genie do? Maybe it wanted things I wanted from the world.
โI have two wishes genie! You are mine! And as my advisor, I want to wish for advice for my last wish!โ
Suddenly my mind was filled with hundreds of dialogues all speaking over themselves. I realized I only had one wish left, and thousands of wishes were filling my head. I couldnโt dream of fixing all of these at once, could I? I was getting overwhelmed, my forehead brimming with sweat.
โSTOP THIS! I asked for advice! What is this?โ
โThat, my boy, is every unwished demand from peers before. The things their hearts wanted. Do you hear them? They let their minds get in the way and solved their desires. Not their needs. Not the worlds needs. Isnโt that sad, boy?โ
This could have been my chance, I thought. I CAN solve all the problems!
โAlright, genie. I accept. I wish that all the unfulfilled wishes youโve seen through were granted.โ
The genie grinned. I shivered. I knew I had done something horribly wrong. And then he snapped his fingers.
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jd92g3r
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jd8tzbd
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[WP] A grandma that you helped across the road turned out to be a genie who grants you a wish, you wish for a perfect 2023, but she misunderstood and now every day at 20:23 everything goes your way.
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The moment that genie made my wish come true, I bought a lottery ticket expecting to win. When I lost, I swore that genies weren't real and I wondered if I'd accidentally taken some kind of hallucinogen. It wasn't until several years later that I realized that everything seemed to go "right" at 8:23 PM each evening and that the genie had misinterpreted the wish entirely.
That's when my quest to game the lottery began.
At first, I bought the ticket in the morning and then waited until 8:23 to look at it to see if I'd won. When it was a loser, I thought that the answer was simple - I'd need to find a lottery that was drawn at exactly 8:23 PM. I researched every lottery in every municipality, province, state, and country in the world and found that not a single one drew a lottery at 8:23. Some were 8, some were 8:15, and others were 8:30. That left only the possibility that the lottery was drawn by accident at 8:23 and that I held a ticket in my hands.
I drummed up a plan where I would fly to a remote country that had a lottery at 8:15, call in a bomb threat from a pay telephone, and hopefully, that would delay the drawing until exactly 8:23. Assuming I was able to get away from the telephone, and that it wasn't being monitored with a camera, the plan felt unstoppable besides that it was a roll of the dice that the delay would work until exactly 8:23. I thought more about this and figured that if I could keep them on the phone and tell them to proceed at exactly 8:23, that would work.
So I went ahead and flew out on a Saturday morning and had a lottery ticket in my hands by 8:00. I'd researched the exact location I wanted to make the call from ahead of time, and the plan went off without a hitch, which was amazing given all the variables involved. I told the lady at the lottery corp that there was a bomb in the machine and that if they didn't draw the lottery at exactly 8:23 then the bomb would go off. They actually believed me and delayed the drawing! But when the numbers came out, I realized I had another loser.
Furious, I stomped back to my rental car and drove off as fast as I could. On my way back to my hotel I realized how stupid I'd been. There was a six-hour time difference between where I was and the place the genie had granted the wish. That meant that I really needed the lottery draw to happen at 2:23 P.M. local time.
*Grr.*
I was sitting in the hotel bed eating an ice cream I'd ordered from room service when I heard a knock on the door. When I looked through the peephole I saw two unformed cops. *Shit.* I opened the door, hoping that it was something other than they'd discovered that I'd called in the bomb threat.
Of course, they'd discovered that it was me who called in the bomb threat. A lady in a restaurant by the pay phone thought my car was strange and took down the license plate, which they then tracked down to my hotel room. How freaking unlucky could I be?
They took me to the station and booked me into jail. Overnight, I hatched a plan to get out. At 2:23 tomorrow I'd try to unlock the cell with something and escape before it turned 2:24. Surely this had to work.
So when the wall clock in the cell read 2:23 the next day I tried to hatch my plan. When it didn't work, I screamed out to the genie so that all the other prisoners in the jail could hear me.
"YOUR STUPID WISH DOESN'T WORK ANYMORE!"
I didn't expect the genie to materialize out of thin air with a smirk on his face.
"You forgot about daylight savings time!" he said.
And that's how I learned not to trust genies.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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He wakes up in the morning tired, dejected at another days of work. Starts off his day with some basic chores.
A light breakfast to start the day, eggs and a toasted piece of bread, that's all you can afford on Walmart's minimum wage salary anyway. The repeated mundane cycle was definitely killing him inside and chipping away at his sanity, but every since that day, the day with the old lady, he has found hope.
Hope might be an exaggeration, even he knows its just the only thing that has kept him going day after day, and although he does not believe in a higher power, he believes that one minute in his day might just be something sent by the divine .
He rushes back from his shift, taken a bus back to his apartment, and waits patiently in front of his laptop. Clock ticks 8:22, he starts typing
Tick
"Hi Annie, i know you've told me you dont want to talk to me, but i just wanted to reach out. How was your day, how have things been going , how are you feeling ?"
'hey ! i was just thinking about you ! thing have been going good. heard a really nice song on the subway today, and booked a few tickets for a standup night show, got some pretty flowers for myself, things have been good, how about you?"
"It make me happy to hear about you ! fills me with joy to see you so filled with life ! just wanted to let you know i miss you a lot , and am not sure how i can fit all the things i want to say to you"
' I understand, its just that i dont.....................'
Typing.....
Typing...
Typing.
.
Tock
He knows, the time isn't enough, the time will never be enough. Still he waits, to repeat the same cycle, the next day, every day.
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lqbhisn
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mw96ljz
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[WP] The warrior spent five years training to face the one who slaughtered their family and burned their village. Five years of training, and another two to track the man down, only to learn he choked to death on a piece of chicken mere days ago.
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"You honor him by wearing your armor," the Elder said to the Warrior as he entered the memorial. "Did you fight alongside him?"
The Warrior, hand on his sword, stared at the sincere face of the woman before him. "Yes, I suppose. How did he fall? I've heard many stories, and would like to know the truth."
The Elder's face twisted toward anger. "Such a rude question should not be spoken in this space." She turned and left him standing alone.
In the center of the room a group, circled together, prayed. Along the edges people talked, and wept, all dressed to tradition and matching the decorated space around them. Resting against the far wall, surrounded by flowers and gifts, was the Generalโhis body positioned respectfully, holding his sword against his chest, adorned in his ceremonial armor and skin painted in a manner that exuded gentle strength.
\*\*\*
The Warrior watched the General move through the village. Both of their armor and swords are bloodied, but the General moves his with experience, cutting down those fleeing with ease as though harvesting wheat as he moves toward warriors far less experienced and far more fearful. The air clouded by the smoke pouring through thatched roofs, the ground slick with mud churned more by blood than water. The Warrior has already mourned. They had attacked from the East, and he'd been watching the West, and by the time the Warrior had ran through chaos and arrived at his home, his world had already been cut down and left scattered throughout a home that burned.
He had never swung the blade with intention to kill before that day. Had never held it to block a blow meant to take his life. He ran toward the General, sword drawn, silent and focused. The General felled two unarmored villagers, laughing, eyes empty. He turned and saw the Warrior charging, readied himself in a relaxed stance, then watched as a horse, riddled with arrows and sword slashes, plowed into the young man, then fell on top of him.
The Warrior struggled to breath, then passed out.
\*\*\*
The Warrior was pulled from under the horse, carted in a daze to the nearest spared village, where he slept for days. Once he awoke, he slept little for five years. Others trained beside him, all focused for the same reason. They raided. Obtained intelligence. Sabotaged. Found weaknesses and exploited them. Grew more disciplined. Though the General hid behind walls, too injured and worn down to fight the battles he loved, there were still ways to face him. The Warrior was selected to leave, work a farm, then answer a call for recruits when it came. The process was slow. He'd had to train with other peasants and farmers, and do so in a way that hid his skill. His ascension up the ranks was swift, and two years after leaving to begin the plot he was told he would be given his orders by the General and sent to lead his first expedition.
The day before he was to stand before his target, whispers spread through the ranks that the General was dead.
\*\*\*
The Warrior stared at other soldiers flowing up to the body then away, wondering if they really mourned for a monster. As he approached the body, his mind filled with intrusions. The corpse looked no more frightening that a field of flowers. Others behind him waited their turn. He felt his sword in his hand. Considered how it would feel pushing through the General's neck. How the faces around him would look as he held the head in the air and screamed. A hand touched his shoulder.
"Sir, may I please begin my turn," the man of middle age said.
The Warrior did not answer immediately, but the man stayed near him. "Tell me," the Warrior whispered to the man. "Some rumors of the death are coated in bravery, while others tell a different tale. Which do you believe?"
The man looked around them before speaking. "I am related to the General," the man said. "Distant relation, but close enough to know the truth. It's not something the family wishes to discuss."
"It is not something I would repeat."
The man, eager for the Warrior to move on, sighed then leaned even closer. "The chicken," he said. "He always ate so fast. They found him alone, drumstick in hand, face blue. The piece of meat was pulled from his throat, but he was already gone."
The Warrior wanted to say thank you. To yell in anger and frustration. To cut the man in half, and every other member of the bloodline. Instead, he laughed. Not loud, but a sincere, rolling, laugh that caused the man next to him to draw back and pretend they'd never met. The Warrior stared at the General, imagined those final moments, then turned and left, with plans to return to his band of warriors with as much information as he could gather.
.
.
See my profile if you liked the story.
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I returned, bloodied, tired...but happy.
I battled for our country, and won honor, and rewards.
With the elixirs at hand I could help my children onto the path of cultivation, their future brighter than mine.
With the money on my hand, I could help my parents have an easy elderly life, while I could ensure my wife gets healthier...and maybe, maybe we can have another child.
But then...everything was for nothing!
For before my very eyes...my village was in shatters, burned to ashes, my family nothing but a memory...
I learnt from a child who was hidden inside the well about who did it.
A evil cultivator with a snake tattoo on his face, and a scar on his left hand...
I trained for 5 years, spending everything I earned: rewards, honors, favors to strengthen myself.
Cashing in all the relations I have made in the army...in two years, I found clues about the man who did it.
About the man who destroyed everything I loved.
On the day I arrived at the town he was in...I learnt about his fate: he was dead.
Dead, having choked on a piece of chicken...exactly three days ago.
I thanked all those who helped me track him down...and then wandered the world.
What was I...still here for?
My family is dead.
My hometown burnt to ashes, I give it a few more years...and besides a couple souls, nobody will even remember a village being there anymore...
I have ascended, become stronger than a general...for what?
Revenge? My family? My country?
Nobody needed me anymore...
Fishing for nothing, I spent my days besides a lake...feeling empty.
"Young man...why so cloudy?", an old man, whom was even earlier than me at the lake chuckled.
I sighed.
"That was one heavy sigh...
It seems you have lost everything.", he said, his gaze softening.
"Elder...you see right through me.", I said.
He laughed.
"With you wearing your heart on your sleeve...it's not hard.", he said.
"I...I have nothing left.", I muttered.
"Don't you have your life?", he tilted his head.
"But...for whom am I living?", I asked.
"Yourself? Your parents who birthed you, and who raised you? For your loved ones, be them still with us, or in Yama's realm?
Don't get stuck in the loss, remember to live for them, not because of them.", he said, slowly disappearing.
I sat on the ground for days, before breaking through once more...
Indeed...I am healthy, and still alive, they...they wouldn't want me to join them so soon...
"I will make you all proud...", I muttered, ready to make a name for myself...for their sake.
My wife, whom wanted to help everyone, my parents, who wanted to feed everyone...and my two sons who wanted to be elite warriors...
I...I will fulfill their dreams in their stead.
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jr4fpal
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jr3isos
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[WP] "They only ever use a single spell in combat" "Yea but theyre REALLY good at that one spell"
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​
"How are they winning!" Zoan asked shock as he stared at the illusionary screen. Everything on there came straights from the scrying spell the school was somehow casting automatically in connected succession.
"It...wasn't something our neophyte wizards prepared for," his aide said carefully and standing a few steps away from Zoan.
"It's Mud Shot. The stupidest spell ever made! The fucking spell so inefficient and needlessly complex. It fucking pulls in moisture, mixes it with *levitated* topsoil, and then adds velocity to it's mass...it's a needlessly complex! It does all this crap at once for little pay off! Fire Ball or Magic Missile would have been better spell to learn for that level of complexity! Hell Earth spike alone is simpler and deadlier," Zoan said in disgust.
It was one of the reason he went out of his way to make sure the Zeros didn't have access to them, or any of the other more "useful" spells. It took his entire fraternity booking every sympathetic teacher and signing out every book and scroll in the school's public library. The Zeros had no money, no connections, and with Zoan's fraternity depriving them of what was 'publicly' available, it should have crippled them!
What should have been a one-sided slaughter between legacy wizards-with both history and a rightful claim to patrons-and the dregs that lucked their way into *their* world had been reversed. Zoan was watching his top neophyte recruits, the budding of cream of the crop, get their asses handed to them by FUCKING MUD!
"How are we losing! Our wizards know a lot of spells, they are only using that one fucking spell!"
"Yeah, but they are really good with it," some one muttered behind him in a low voice. Zoan would have been tempted to punch whoever said that, but he was too busy watching the atrocity happen before his eyes.
The members of Zero shot mud at his neophytes feets, some solidifying in place, others making the ground slippery. Those that fell where quickly hit again, mud solidifying in place. Some sort of Spell Hack, whoever taught them that? And that was the ones hit in the feet. Those hit in the head before they could cast some sort of barrier spell were instantly out for the count.
When his Zoan's remaining neophyte wizards finally started casting barrier, the fucking Zero's switched tactics! The spell was then used to reshape the battle field! It built bulwarks and cover as well as steps and towers to be used a scaffolding. Not a bad thing for Zoan's neophites, it also meant the Zero couldn't aim directly at them...so they shot up into the sky like a fucking artillery!
His neophites adjusted their shields...and mud solidified around them! those who weren't wise were trapped inside a layer of mud like some magic shell and were quickly piled on by more mud!
It was ridiculous!
Zoan had broken the skin on his bottom lip and the palms of his hand by the time the last of his remaining neophytes was hit by a giant mudball, losing the match.
The Zero's had won.
**"FUUUUUUUUUUCK!"**
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โHey, see that castle over there?โ Said the rogue of the party. โYeah I do, what about it?โ The young mage in red replied to him. โYou should cast your spell on it and see what you can do to it,you know itโd be pretty funny!โ He goaded her. โAlright, you asked for it!โ She struck a magnificent pose for a mage, staff outstretched, the gem gleaming a deep crimson in the midday sun. She raised it high above her head and started her incantation. โOh Crimson Black Blaze, god-king of myriad worlds, though I bend and break the laws of reality, I am the Voice, the Body of destruction incarnate in accordance within the principle of all creation. Let the hammer of eternity descend unto me! EXPLOSION!โ Seven rings appeared above and around the castle. At first a thin beam of light connected them. Then as the crimson clad mage called out the final word of the incantation, power burst forth, barely contained by the rings. She fainted as the castle crumbled into dust, leaving behind an empty cliff face.
Sorry for formatting, on mobile.
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khgc8qm
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khfj61n
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[WP] Fighting vampires and werewolves even with a secret organization supporting you is hard enough, so it was a shock to discover that your friend has been fending off eldritch horrors by himself for years now.
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Mitch hated to do it but he had to warn Mr. Spring about the vampire next door. The man was old and had lived in his ranch house for over fifty years. He wouldn't want to move.
Mr. Spring opened the door in his bathrobe, an ancient brown fabric with patches of different colors on each shoulder.
"Mitch? Well I haven't seen you since you were a small boy, coming over to weed Edna's garden!"
His face held what seemed to be hundreds of more lines and wrinkles than Mitch remembered when his family had moved away but Mr. Spring's eyes were still bright blue
and his smile was just as wide and true.
"Hey Mr. Springer," Mitch said.
"Come in," Mr. Springer said, gesturing inside. "Why this is a pleasant surprise yes it is. What brings you back to this old place."
Mitch took his hat off. "I work for a security company now sir and we've had some issues with a man who might have come to visit you recently. A very tall man with pale
skin. He moved in next door a few weeks ago."
"You mean Richard? He came by, asking about a blood donation," Mr. Spring said, picking up his cigar from the tray next to his chair.
He took a big puff, blowing out a breath of dark smoke that smelled of elderberry. "I told him I already gave at the Eagles and he laughed."
Mitch rubbed his face. "He laughed?"
"Said something about it being a forced donation after. Real odd duck."
"Did he hurt you Mr. Spring?"
The old man looked down at his slippered feet. "Well I confess those fangs of his did give me a fright but my boys took care of it."
"Your... boys?" Mitch asked.
The light in the room began to leach away until Mitch could only see a flicker of it in Mr. Spring's eyes. Tentacles formed on either side of his easy chair. Small shapes
appeared in the darkness near his feet. Dozens of eyes of all shapes and sizes blinked at Mitch.
He felt a coldness that he'd never experienced with wolves or vampires or any supernatural before. He swallowed a few times. "What?"
One of the tentacles smoothed Mr. Spring's silver hair back.
"Was missing my Edna something fierce when they came a few years ago. My Edna woulda called them adorable but I like them. I put out some peanut butter. They just
love peanut butter."
"Did they deal with your unwelcome visitor?" Mitch asked nervously. Teeth had begun to appear out of the darkness. Rows upon rows of dark teeth.
"He's gone," Mr. Spring said. "Can't say for sure what happened but he won't bother me again. Me or the boys."
The old man smiled contentedly.
Mitch slowly stood up. Several sets of eyes followed his movement. "It was nice visiting with you, sir. I don't think you'll be troubled
by such folks again."
"No I suppose not," Mr. Spring said.
Mitch wasn't sure what he was going to put in his report. He knew what he'd seen but.. he also had no idea what he'd seen.
He'd call it "misadventure". Yeah, he liked that. Misadventure.
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I sat with Frank on the patio of a restaurant. โSo, howโs the foundation doing without me?โ, he asked.
โItโs going well.โ
The sky darkened and people screamed. I looked up and gawked. A giant creature flew above the city. It was a green humanoid. It had tentacles, which emerged from its mouth, flopping about. Its huge bat-like wings flapped. I suddenly saw Frank bound into the air at it. Frankโs fist was pointed up. With a strike, the creature was launched into the sky. It disappeared. Frank landed a few feet from me and looked down. โYeah, he said, โIโve been killing Eldritch beings.โ
โWhy have you never told me?โ
โI get embarrassed.โ
โHow are you that powerful?โ
โI dunno.โ
โWhere was this level of power when you worked at the foundation?โ
โWell, I was using a gun.โ
โWhy didnโt you use your fists?โ
โI didnโt want to kill.โ
I cocked my head, mouth agape. He looked up. โWait, were we supposed to kill?โ, he asked.
โYes!โ
He looked surprised and said, โI thought we had to show mercy!โ
Two women ran over toward him. One said, โHey, can we get a picture with you?โ He put his head down.
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jx0l0qm
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jx0jl71
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[WP] "Everyone can become a billionaire within a month", or so I was told. You decide to let a clairvoyant superintelligence pilot your body for a month. As it takes the most optimal path to make you a billionaire, you watch hopelessly in horror.
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I still remember it when I graduated in 2007.
When they said the advertisement in school- "Be a billionaire right out of college, call this number!", I was wary. I've seen through Cutco trying to lure students in, I've seen job fairs that pretend they're interested only to be lucky if they have the decency of not ghosting me. For all the job market looked like, ultimately your work in school didn't matter, all that mattered is if Mommy and Daddy owned a place that'd hire you, with a slight second if you could drink or have something on someone who's Mommy and Daddy owned a place and get them to also hire you.
I took down the website and number just in case, but didn't intend to use it- until the year got worse. No good jobs were hiring. Or bad jobs. Even McDonald's and Walmart were just throwing my application out in front of me. Shit, even going to the military didn't work; even they didn't think my life was worth even a meat shield.
When my mother lost our house and did so specifically because my best wasn't good enough for anyone, the first nervous breakdown happened. I truly had no other option. If this succeeds I become a billionaire, if it fails I die in a ditch.
I made the call. The place said "Welcome, we're glad someone has the willingness to be a billionaire in 30 days."
I was still wary. "Are you sure someone can do this? Do you guarantee it?"
The person on the phone replied "Yes. We are certified by the government and can guarantee if you work with us, you will be a billionaire in a month. All we need is proof you have a degree and a clean criminal record."
Well, that's hopeful- at least whatever I'm doing will be legitimate if you can't be a criminal. Of course, everyone has some minor scrapes in school- but I went through the state anyway and could prove my record was clean. I sent it in.
The next was my degree. I had to send proof in, it didn't work. They asked for transcripts. I had to drive all the way back to my out of state school, but the gas was an investment. I got my transcripts and had to call. They said 'oh, here's the problem- you're a college graduate, we need a university graduate.' I needed to get them in touch with the school to make the business aware 'college' and 'university' were synonyms in the United States and me going to a private college was actually higher education.
But after a bit longer, it worked. I finally got the call.
"It is all clear. You have been accepted into the program."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "So you guarantee I will become a billionaire?"
The person on the phone smiled. "Absolutely. Get your passport ready; this time in 30 days, we can start your job teaching ESL in Zimbabwe."
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"22 more days of this? Will I even be able to enjoy my new wealth outside of federal prison?"
When she snapped out of her daydream, she surprised herself at her own indifference toward what she affectionately calls "the simpler days" when bribing her way to a multi billion dollar fortune was unfamiliar and scary.
But clearly it's become second nature as she's doubled that fortune many times over. Injure the judge in the 11th hour before a lopsided judgment, intimidate the litigants, join the settlement, collect, and destroy the public records. Wash, rinse, repeat. Wash, rinse, repeat.
"And to think I used to believe billionaires were smart and special. When we're really just --" she looked at the plaque on the wall -- "efficient and indifferent."
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jouo1w3
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jou3ei1
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[WP] One can easily distinguish a true veteran adventurer from the masses, for one doesnโt fear those who show to the start of a dungeon with gleaming weapons and polished armor, but those who show up wearing casual clothing, looking like they just got done shopping in town not 5 minutes earlier.
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"Is that a carpenters hammer?"
Bob smiled. "Keen eyes, dear leader," he said. "I couldn't find my sword so I borrowed this from my neighbor." Garrick the Stern looked Bob up and down. "*This* is what you choose to wear into the cursed mines?" he said, gesturing to Bobs common attire. Bob shrugged. "I had a piano recital before this," he said. "Hard to tickle the ivories in battle gear." Garrick sighed, but figured at the very least their new recruit would slow down their enemies as they stopped to devour him.
"The loot will be an even split," he started, addressing the group. "Our target is in the heart of the mine. The precious stone of the mad foreman is said to be worth a fortune. We extract it, and we're set for life." Dex, the assassin, smirked. Halvar, the Wizard, puffed out his chest. Bob scratched his nose and bit into an apple. Garrick drew his sword. "To glory!" he shouted, and ran into the mine. Halvar and Dex followed closely behind. Bob followed at a leisurely pace, finishing his apple.
The group passed through the entrance shaft and into a wide cavern. Halvar raised his staff. "Light!" he commanded, and a bright white light emanated from the crystal on top. Red eyes blazed at the perimeter of the chamber. Garrick flung his shield off his back into his offhand. "Brace!" he said, just as the horde charged. Magefire blazed a group of ghouls and sent them shrieking into a smoking heap. Daggers flashed as three, four, five of the foul fiends fell with slit throats. Garricks sword got stuck in the ribcage of one of the creatures just as another was descending on him. Blood splashed his face, and Garrick opened his eyes to see the light fading from the ghouls eyes.
Then he saw the carpenters hammer lodged in the ghouls head.
"Bullseye!" Bob said, entering the cavern. He pulled the hammer out and brushed it off on the dead ghoul. "Oh man, Jerry is going to be pissed. I'll have to get him a hammer that's not covered in ghoul brains." Garrick blinked, then wiped the blood from his face. "Try to keep up!" he said, glaring at Bob. They moved deeper into the cavern and, to Garricks surprise, Bob was holding his own. He seemed to favor using the hammer as a ranged weapon, which was easily the least efficient application. Most of the enemies Bob felled he did with his bare hands; clacking their heads together or snapping their necks in a single motion.
"Why, on Earth, do you keep throwing your only weapon?" Garrick finally asked after they had dispatched the latest pack of enemies. Bob raised an eyebrow. "Well I can't use it close range," he said. "I'd get blood all over my nice recital clothes." Garrick did his best *not* to look at Bob as they continued deeper into the mine. Eventually they came to a large door set into the mine wall with lit torches on either side. Garrick turned to address his crew. "This is it," he said. "The Mad Foreman should lie within. It is said his command of vile blood magic is unparalleled since his demonic possession. Be cautious, friends."
They entered the chamber and saw him. The Mad Foreman sat on a throne of corpses, his demonic thralls bowing before him. A ghostly laugh spilled forth from his twisted lips. "You think to challenge me?" he said. "I will add your broken bodies to my throne." Dex got into a crouch and spun his daggers. Halvar scowled and pointed his staff. Garrick steeled himself, then gasped as something flew past his head. The Mad Foreman rose from his throne. "Feast, my children! Dine upon these fo-"
"Is that a carpenters hammer?"
***SHLUNK***
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The man walked in with gleaming half-plate armor. His war scythe etched with the most delicate edelweiss pattern. He hummed a quiet dirge as he polished a bit of brass on his belt, helmet glinting in the light from the caveโs entrance.
The bandit grinned. A new adventurer come to test his mettle. He remained in the shadows as he stepped just a little closer. Suddenly the man looked up and pointed with a gauntleted hand as the other held the bit of brass.
โIn the name of the Queen, mother of the natural death, I rebuke thee for thy hubris. Feel the wrath of the fates you have sundered, taking lives that were not yours. *burn* with her vengeance.โ
The bandit couldnโt even bring himself to scream as the man spoke with an even calmness. The words lit a flame within him as he dropped his bow and arrow. Clawing at himself from the agony as the Goddessโs power entered him.
He was dead before the armored man had finished speaking.
The man removed his gleaming helmet to reveal burgundy red eyes and skin the color of coal. Kneeling beside the bandit to grab the proof that had been demanded for this task. The idiot hadnโt even tried to *sneak*, but at least it made things easy.
After decades of traveling, he wondered if there was something wrong with him. Heโd established his name as one who is very good at getting the job done and sought out those his goddess hated, but he constantly received simple jobs any new adventurer could do. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding. He did have a very bland and easily mistaken title.
It wasnโt too uncommon to find a man named Eric the Cleric after All.
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jxcsgy0
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[WP] The zombie apocalypse is here. The general publicโฆ actually has a better handle on it than the government does.
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When the outbreak first began in the US, many of us assumed the worst to come and soon the Walking Dead or The Last of Us would become a reality. Most expected the first to fall would be the major cities and a quick end of order in society as a whole.
This shared opinion grew even more so as the military failed to contain the outbreak and even lost many soldiers sent to combat the infected, but by then, it was too late. Those government idiots actually tried to control the infected, to see if it could be weaponized. It all started with Patient Zero and a dozen other patients to whom they studied, instead of just putting bullet through their mindless skulls and saving the rest of us the risk of spreading the disease.
News spread like wildfire which is to be expected, some panicked, others remained composed in light of the news and even starting preparing to abandon the cities while others seemed excited?
It didnโt take long before a wave of infected made it towards the most populated area around the country, but instead of a city of cowering and defend-less mobs of people, the army of the undead were met with armed to the teeth, ready for action militia.
I guess the Second Amendment really did have its perks. Many people were armed with AR-15s, pistols of many varieties and even homemade explosives and tanks of gasoline.
โYo! Hand me another gallon!โ Tom voiced out casually as Jerry shifted over to his friend and handed the gallon of flammables. The two were both on the roof of a convenience store. Down below them, a horde of the undead stacked in piles, trying to reach fresh meat to convert in their ranks of rotten flesh. Their blood stained teeth chomping at the prey above them.
Jerry took a bite out of his sandwich, a turkey sub that he happily enjoyed, paying little to no mind to the stacks upon stacks of infected just a couple of feet below him. His best friend was currently dumping all the contents of the bottle in his hands onto the flesh eating animals below.
The man took out a beer from the cooler they brought with them and took a large gulp, โHow many left?โ Jerry burped as Tom took out a match, sliding the red tip across the box as a small flame appeared.
โEh, I think they might be the last batch.โ Tom shrugged before tossing the match over his shoulder. Not even a moment later, a bright flare shined as the horde began to burn into a crisp like the last mob of infected. The two friends merely sat side by side, ignoring the toxic scent of burning flesh.
โWanna grab some snacks after this?โ Jerry asked as Tone grabbed his own beer.
โHell yeah.โ
The two made a small toast as the flames died down along with the undead. They watched as armored vehicles, both military and self made, patrol the streets, either ramming into unsuspecting inflected or the gunner manning the machine gun struck them down.
All around the city, across America, people fought off the inflection like exterminators getting rid of several ant hills. Most zombieโs were gunned down, ran over or burned well done. Some didnโt even get the chance to bite their first victim before getting a bullet. Didnโt matter how many there were, folk just got to higher ground and pick them off. Although the zombies were terrifying in numbers, they lack one crucial quality, the human mind.
It seemed those movies and videos games seemed to be more than enough preparation for a situation like this. Teaching many what to do and what not to in a zombie apocalypse. At this rate, this crisis, if you can even call it that, would be over before dinner.
I guess we had nothing to fear after all.
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It all started when one man drank a glass of water with a piece of ice containing the virus. On the first day there was silence. Fear crept into the hearts of every man woman and child. No one dares to make a move, except for the suicidal. Those who wish to die welcomed the undead. Many of them simply succumbed to the zombie plague, however some found meaning in killing the zombies. Those who longed for death overcame it in confronting those who had already died. A new world hierarchy formed with them at the top. Their mass killings gave confidence to the public. Soon bringing the dead back to their graves had become the global pastime.
On the other hand, the government lost all control. They obsessed over plans to control the zombies. They enforced pointless procedures that only endangered the populace. Distrust brewed within the government. Soon they became agitated so their measures grew more and more extreme. The number of civilians killed outgrew the number of zombies killed by the government. The leaders of the zombie slayers declared war against their own government. It was a brutal and chaotic war. Both sidesโ losses were devastating. Through all the spilt blood, the undead grew. With a common enemy the government and the zombie slayers were forced to unite. When the dust settled humanity was victorious. It took a few decades but society rebuilt. The zombies of the past became a distant memory. However, unbeknownst to the world, a collector preserved a zombie in ice deep underground. The zombie was forgotten until a chunk of the ice found itself in the glass of a guy who wanted a drink of water.
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[WP] "are you another so called hero? here to save the princess from my clutches?" no, i am but a simple scholar. i just want to know why you would kidnap a princess in the first place"
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"Well that's a refreshing change of plans", *sighed Vampire Lord Vallaruul in relief before snapping his fingers.*
*The illusory magic cloaking the reanimated corpses of previous heroes dissipated, revealing they they had been encircling the scholar awaiting the order to strike.*
*The first undead hero was adorned in divine armor and held a sacred blade that the scholar thought had been merely a legend, but his equipment had long since rusted over the centuries of undead servitude.*
*The second undead hero wore a tattered robe and held aloft an emerald encrusted oaken staff signifying their former rank as an archmage, but the scholar spotted a pair of Magic Redirection shackles around her wrists, constantly transferring her innate magic to her Vampiric master.*
*The third undead hero was clad in rotting furs, holding a fiery dagger against the scholar's throat. As the heroes acknowledged their master's command and sheathed their weapons, the scholar caught a glimpse of a demonic eye adorning the daggers scabbard, likely the insignia of the hero's former patron.*
*The three undead heroes joined the princess at their master's side, and the five of them looked at the scholar in anticipation. The vampire lord broke the awkward silence by sarcastically clapping, his undead thralls visibly unsure if they should also clap.*
"Congratulations! You are the first mortal who has bothered asking me why I kidnap princesses. Normally, heroes just assume that I do it for political leverage or because I want some sort of princess harem. But you actually walked into my lair completely unarmed, without any combat experience, encumbered only by your immense curiosity for my true motives. You are truly the most foolish scholar I have ever encountered, but your sheer recklessness to approach me without a battle strategy has amused me, so I shall satisfy your thirst for knowledge."
*The vampire lord called upon the magic of the shackled hero, their face twisted in horrific agony as magic was violently siphoned out of them. The magic swirled around the throne room, coalescing into a thin disk of ontological energy, pulling apart space and time to form a gateway to another realm. The scholar could not look directly at the gateway, as glimpsing an infinitesimal fraction of the eldritch horrors beyond caused the scholar intense psychic damage.*
*The vampire lord casually bit the neck of the princess, rapidly draining her of her royal blood. As the princess's mummified corpse slumped in her chair, the vampire lord retched and unceremoniously regurgitated the princess's blood, projectile vomiting it into the planar rift. Lips glossy with royal blood, the vampire lord addressed the eldritch horrors directly.*
"Denizens of Darkness Between the Stars, bathe in the ichor of your brethren, and know that thine ichor shall too flow if your gaze is cast upon this world!"
*The gateway closed with an audible pop and the magic flowed back into the shackled hero. The vampire lord gestured to the first hero, who plunged his sacred blade into the dessicated corpse of the princess. The vampire lord then recited a long forgotten prayer.*
"Oh light bringer, goddess of the sun, shine your rays of mercy onto this fair maiden. Rekindle her flame so she may cast light upon the shadows."
*The Scholar witnessed a heavenly golden light flow from the rusted sacred blade into the princess's corpse, restoring the lost blood and completely reviving her. The princess sat up and resumed her perfect posture as the hero removed the sacred blade from her chest.*
*The vampire lord turned to the scholar with a smile and asked*, "Has your curiosity been satisfied, or do I need to elaborate?"
*The scholar paused and took a minute to process what he had witnessed before replying.*
"Alright, so because you are undead, you are not mentally affected by the maddening forms of eldritch horrors. You perceived them a long time ago, and knew that they would destroy the world if they could, so you needed to find a way to stop them."
"In your proclamation to those incomprehensible horrors, you claimed that the princess's blood was the blood of *their brethren*, tricking them into believing you are capable of killing them if they attacked. But those creatures likely receive blood sacrifices all the time, so the royal family must have consorted with those creatures in the past, granting the princess an eldritch bloodline that makes her blood similar to eldritch ichor."
"You knew that the kingdom would not allow you to regularly sacrifice members of the royal family, and would likely not comprehend the threats existing beyond the stars, so you had to kidnap the princesses to keep the world safe."
"After slaying the first hero sent to rescue her, you figured out how to manipulate their connection to the divine to revive the recently deceased, allowing you to repeatedly sacrifice the same princess and spill their eldritch blood over and over."
*The vampire lord's sarcastic applause transitioned into genuine applause in response to the scholar's impressive deductive skills.*
"Well done! You managed to figure out what I have been attempting to explain to that ignorant kingdom for centuries. Now before you leave and inevitably fail to convince the kingdom of the existence of threats from beyond the stars, is there anything that still vexes you?"
*The Scholar pondered the question, then turned to the revived princess.*
"I do have one question. How do you feel about this arrangement?"
*The princess rubbed the spot on her neck where the vampire lord's fangs pierced, and replied with a smug expression.*
"I don't know how the previous princesses felt, but my professional relationship with Lord Vallaruul is much better than the arranged marriage that my father planned for me. He grants me the power and autonomy that my potential husband would have taken from me, so I am honestly happier living here. Besides, I only have to be sacrificed once a month, and I get to spend the rest of my time enjoying my hobbies."
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The Dreadlord clutched his mace tightly as the doors of his hall opened slowly yet steadily. He prepared himself to meet the foolish hero who would dare rescue the princess from captivity. Footsteps echoed through the room as in walked-
\- an aged man wearing a robe, spectacles and carrying a bag filled with scrolls.
The Dreadlord raised an eyebrow.
"You are not what I expected, *hero*," he said with discernible disdain. "It matters not; though a mage you may be, you shall not rescue-"
"Oh, hello!" the old man greeted happily. "Are you Mister Dreadlord?"
The villain paused for a moment. "Am I- the impertinence! You dare insult me with such a-"
"Oh, terribly sorry, sir," the old man raised his hands, "my eyesight isn't very good, you see?" he chuckled and pointed to his glasses.
"You're a fool. You're in no state to rescue the princess."
"Rescue?" the man shook his head, "No, sir. I am but a simple scholar. I merely wish to know - and write down - the reason for which you kidnapped the princess."
"You... excuse me?"
"A scholar. Historian, if you will. I do not wish to interfere with your actions. I simply wish to write them down so history will not forget or, worse yet, *misinterpret*."
The Dreadlord wasn't quite sure if this was a trick or not, but nevertheless, he put his mace back onto his back.
"And why should I allow you to do that?" he bellowed.
"Knowledge, good sir!" the scholar said sternly. "The most valuable currency of all. I believe that you, as a man of success, see the value in it! If nothing else, I can make sure your side of this conflict will be known to all! And, if I may be so bold, perhaps I could also chronicle the accommodations which you have provided for the young lady?"
The Dreadlord, somewhat amused by the scholar's brave foolhardiness, chuckled. "Very well," he nodded. "Come."
The scholar smiled and after pulling out a fresh scroll of parchment joined the Dreadlord at his side.
"Now, sir, before we start, I would like to start the script with a simple question - why do you call yourself Dreadlord, of all things?" he asked politely.
"It is not a name I picked," the tall warrior sighed. "It's one that was given to me. Pinned to me by the King and his cronies in an attempt to sour my reputation!"
"I see, I see," the scholar nodded.
"Here," the Dreadlord announced as they approached a large wooden door. "Her chambers, Best we talked out this affair with her, wouldn't you agree?"
The doors swung open and revealed the prison to which the princess was confined.
A comfortable chamber with a tall carpet, luxurious furniture and a crackling fire. Several bowls with fresh fruit sat on various surfaces, each accompanied by a pitcher of water and wine. A room that was perhaps not fit for royalty, but was most certainly suitable for nobility. The princess sat near a window with a cat on her lap, but stood up quickly, startled by the sudden entrance.
"Oh," she sighed. "It's *you*. And... who is this?"
To the scholar's surprise, there was no disdain or fear in her voice. At most, there was a tinge of annoyance.
"A scholar," the Dreadlord replied calmly. "He wishes to record the events which transpire here."
"Hello, your highness," the scholar happily said and bowed as deeply as his aged knees allowed. "I see you are... well?"
"Well enough," she said. "For what it's worth, this man," she said and nodded towards the Dreadlord, "has some sense of courtesy."
"Which, of course," the scholar turned to the armour-clad warrior, "brings us to the main question. *Why*?"
The Dreadlord looked down at his feet where the cat, annoyed by how rudely her nap on the princess' lap was interrupted, sniffed his boots.
"Power."
"I see, I see," the scholar said and scribbled a note. "Care to elaborate?"
"The King does not deserve to rule. I do. His corruption, arrogance and bloodthirst pale in comparison to any tyrant I've seen. For such a monarch-"
"Who are *you* to say?" the princess interrupted angrily. "You have killed hundreds of innocents in your quest to overthrow my father."
"And he slaughtered *thousands*."
​
*Part 2 below. I went a bit longer than expected.*
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[WP] You are at the center of a time traveling war. For every assassin sent back to the past to murder you, another warrior is sent to protect you and kill the assassin before they get a chance. As the bodies pile up, you still donโt have the slightest clue why youโre so important to these people.
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It's really getting ridiculous.
I can't go *one day* without a time-travelling assassin popping up in front of me and trying to kill me for what I am going to do at some point - only to get stopped by *another* time-travelling assassin sent to protect me. I mean, I just wanna drink my lattรฉ in peace, without having to watch two madmen vaporize one another. Is that *so much* to ask?
On the upside, every now and then, when I wade through the ash or goop or bones or whatever is left of these pricks, I find a piece of tech. Something that survived both the journey and the fight. I'm starting to get a nice little collection for myself. And it just so happens that my engineering degree allows me to grasp the most basic of principles on which some of this stuff works.
I tried showing others, for sure. But, well... those people were, well...
Look, it's *time-travelling assassins,* and those people are apparently not important enough to protect. What can I do?
It is rather odd that as of late, the attempts have been getting more frequent, bolder. And I could swear wider - as in more different time periods have shown up. Call it a hunch, but the drastic differences in fashion and sophistication of the tech the assassins have used really do indicate that at least several millennia's worth of people wants to both kill and protect me.
Maybe - just maybe - it's got something to do with the machine I've been working on. My very own time-travelling watch. Why should they be the only ones to have all the fun? I always wanted to see a gladiatorial match in the Colosseum.
So I took the watch, waded through the fresh pile of bodies at my feet, tightened the last screw, and...
*Tick.*
*Tick.*
*Tick.*
**Ah.**
Of course. I get it now.
I forgot to carry the four. Sixth line in my equation, I believe.
Plus, it seems like technology from different millennia doesn't particularly like being used in unison.
Both of those seem like good explanations as to why time itself is collapsing around me now, being simultaneously stretched and compressed, ripping reality apart.
I get flashes of people making final attempts at my life - attempts to stop me from what I just did. I see flashes of the people who were trying to protect me this entire time - a doomsday cult eager to see my work through. *Morons*, all of them. Had they just left me alone, well...
Doesn't matter now. Whatever 'now' is at this point, anyway.
At least, in all that, I got a few glimpses of the gladiatorial match I wanted to see. Close enough, I suppose.
*Tick.*
*Tick.*
The irony does not escape me.
*Tick.*
I hope it doesn't escape them either.
**Tic-**
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Walking down the street has never been so dangerous.
Or getting groceries.
Or literally just watching T.V.
For me at least.
Standing outside a bar, not even tipsy and waiting for an uber to pick me up, I hear the oh-so-familiar rush of the wind.
A man emerges from nowhere, blade raised and eyes fierce. He looks so determined, so excited to be the one to finally get rid of me it's honestly a bit sad.
A gunshot fires and he drops to the ground, blood oozing from the new hole in his forehead.
I walk over, kick his head and give a quick thumbs up to the shadows. A new person steps out, nods their head and zips away.
"Thank you!" I call after them.
Ah, what a regular night.
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jo4xtn3
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jo49fby
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[WP]When a soldier loses a limb, it is a tragedy. Soldiers are needed at peak efficiency, so they must undergoes the unthinkable - grafting metal to flesh. A horrific abomination, the mere process is often enough to shatter what is left of their mind. Then, there are the humans.
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This is my first go at one of these. It was really fun!
The grafting ward was a cacophony of wailing. Dr. Zerb could hardly hear himself think. The attending doc thumped a tendril against a clipboard impatiently. Dr. Zerb hated the stupid barnacles the attending had grafted to his face. A fashionable fad.
โDr. Zerb,โ The attending doc said, barnacles jiggling. โTime is up, what is your diagnosis?โ The patientโs eyes rolled around, uncoordinated. One eye looked at Dr. Zerb, pleadingly, another looked at the attending, terrified, and the third eye darted from his remaining flesh tentacle, then to the grafted cybernetic tentacle and back.
โUhhh,โ Dr. Zerb stammered. โAcute metallurgic grafting psychosis with neuropathic pain.โ The attending frowned, disappointed that Zerb had not been stumped. It was tough to catch true neuropathic pain hiding under the psychosis. โIโd prescribe a sedative and a narcotic, followed by VR physical therapy.โ
"Good work Zerb,โ the attending said. โWith the right VR exercises, this hero will be back on the battlefield and fighting for the Queen's honor in no time. On to the next patient.โ The circle of interns slithered behind the attending around a hanging sheet that divided patients in the grafting ward. Lying on the bed was a pitiable creature. It had no scales, only raw, naked flesh. It had disgusting hair protruding from its head and face. It had two sticklike appendages that stuck out from its bottom, and one that stuck out from its top. On the opposite side of the top-appendage, a standard cybernetic tentacle had been grafted. The grafting site was red and angry. The creature had the audacity to smile with its bony teeth at the attending doc and the interns as they approached. Dr. Zerb fought the urge to ink.
โWhatโs up doc?โ The patient said amiably. โOh right, thatโs an Earth joke. You see there was this cartoon rabbit-โ
โThe patient is a human of the male subtype from the Sol system.โ The attending doc started. Zerb thought that maybe Karz preferred someone who had grafted some barnacles too. A tasteful amount though, not the obscene amount that this pompous idiot had gone for. โThe patient has already been prescribed a Solian medicine called antibiotics to treat the grafting site. A preliminary psychiatric screen found no dyskinesia, no emotional distress, no psychosis, and an increased appetite. Dr. Groyg, what is your opinion?โ Groygโs chromophores went wild with panic.
โUhm, malingering? Sir?โ Groyg asked. โItโs faking a rapid recovery. To get back to fighting for the Queen's honor faster.โ
โMalingering is the opposite of that, Groygโ Dr. Zerb whispered.
โI feel fine. Really,โ the human patient said, flashing those horrible bony teeth again. โBetter than ever, even. This tentacle is so cool! You know on Earth we had this video game with cybernetic implants-โ
โZerb?โ The attending asked. Zerb pushed down the desire to ink again.
โItโs well-known that in 60% of humans, an otherwise successful grafting results in no psychological backlash.โ Zerb felt a little bad stealing Groygโs thunder, but he had literally just read about this last night. โBeyond initial bacterial infections, many metallografted humans appear to function as well or better than before losing a limb, and are back to fighting shape in mere days.โ
โAnd what is your prognosis for the current patient, Dr. Zerb?โ
โAnyone who could withstand the metallografting process, viewed by many to be abhorrent and sacrilegious, without succumbing to a period of psychotic psychosomatic symptoms, clearly either suffered debilitating brain damage during the accident, or worse, was mentally and morally deficient before ever sustaining the injury.โ
โAnd your recommendation, Dr. Zerb?โ
โUnfit for return to battle, sir, and Queen bless the poor bastard.โ
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โIโm telling you, my lord, this process is not at all what you think it is!โ
โAnd I am telling you, we are at war, Chief Magister, if it is ordered that this procedure be done to get these men back on the field, then it shall be done!โ Lord Tytos, Commander of the Northern Force responded forcefully.
The Chief Magister stood his ground, though, โI understand that we are currently in a conflict where we need manpower, however, I can hardly say that this is acceptable manpower, my lord.โ He gestured to the many operating studios behind him, โThe men undergoing the fusion operation are irrevocably changed by the process. Their minds cannot withstand the intrusion of the augments on their bodies.โ
โBut they are able to fight, and that is what is necessary.โ
โI am appalled at your lack of understanding, my lord. After this war is over, what shall be left of our valiant men who serve this nation? Shall they be able to return to their families? To their fields? To their occupations?โ
โThey can fight, that is what we need them for.โ Lord Tytos reinforced evenly.
The Chief Magister lost his temper at that moment, โYou are a fool and shall bring about the downfall of this nation, a downfall much more insidious than what our foes wish for us! You are damning untold numbers of men to a fate worse than death, a fate where they are but machines for this war and little else. Will you be able to stand before their wives, their mothers, their children and explain why they will no longer be the man they once knew? Can you?!โ
Lord Tytos took his eyes away from watching a man being led away by two other Magisters who were having to almost physically lead the man off. โIt is a necessary evil.โ
โNecessโฆ necessary evil? My lord, this has gone too far.โ The Chief Magister said in shock.
โMayhapsโฆ but we may have to go farther.โ
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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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โSo, who are you?โ
โHumans that left the earth a thousand years ago! We have returned!โ
โNever heard of you.โ
โWe are the mighty 1% of the 1%.โ
โI donโt know what that means.โ
โLook, weโre rich. We had 98% of the earths riches. We still have our moneyโ
โThat currency belongs in a museum. Itโs not legal tenderโ
โThen what about the deeds to our land?โ
โHold up, you went to space a thousand years ago and took the deeds to your land on the planet you were leaving behind with you?โ
โIn case we returned. We wanted our stuff back.โ
โThe government that validated those deeds fell over 900 years ago. They are no longer valid.โ
โThen perish under the might of our power!โ
โSir, that ship is a thousand years old. My systems are telling me they have like three singularity power sources, only one of which is for weapons. The others are making your food or powering your engines. Oh, just noticed the five nuclear warheads. Big ones yes. Our asteroid interception system would take them down before they are in the atmosphere. Meanwhile we have three separate guns that fires neutron stars fix on you and you donโt have shields.โ
โI thought your utopia was peaceful? Why do you have these defenses?โ
โOh, three hundred years ago some others left claiming they would be back to destroy us. They were just been sitting in the Ort cloud launching asteroids at us. We made piece with them two hundred years ago. Itโs become kind of fun to watch our systems shoot the asteroids down. Big guns break it apart. Smaller systems clean up the rest. We loved the fireworks so much we do it and broadcast it once a month. Systems that do that are fully automated, and the reason we noticed you is they were preparing to fire, but itโs not scheduled for another two days. Had to actually scramble to figure out these old communication systems. Luckily there are some museums that keep old technologies working and do technical demonstrations. Iโm not even the leader, Iโm just a translator because people donโt speak English anymore.โ
โSo, you arenโt going to give us shares of everything?โ
โLook, not saying itโs been perfect since you left, but it hasnโt been bad. What can you offer us? There just isnโt any need for any of you anymore. You have old money, old technology and nothing of value. Even your knowledge is a thousand years out of date. We can let you back in, and integrate you into society, but there is no special spot for you.โ
โWhat if we donโt want to stay?โ
โWe can look into updating your ship and you can continue on your travels. I mean youโve aged what, our calculations tell us five years thanks to relativity? Do the circle again and see if another thousand years puts Tera back in a spot where you are relevant? Or get you a terraforming ship, and get you set up on some lifeless moon or distant planet. We would have communication abilities and would support you. We have a list of some we think would be a good location. Normally people stay here and we send robots. But if you arenโt comfortable here, itโs an option.โ
โCan we think about it a while?โ
โYeah. But not right there. We would suggest going to at least Mars. Should still be a pretty light show. Enjoy it!โ
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โWhat?โ Asked Lucy as she stared at the radio that had just produced the worst message she had ever had. The rich that left the planet all those years ago were coming back. Lucy glanced up at the worlds six leaders and saw the most powerful one, Cosmic, massaging her temples. Cosmic had been there when the rich left, and she still didnโt look a day over twenty five a millennia later. Sarvin, the leader of animalโs, rubbed his head against Cosmicโs waist and she started rubbing his ears to calm herself.
โLet them come.โ She said. Lucy and the others stared at her in shock and a smirk tugged at Cosmicโs lips.
โIf they want to see what weโve been able to do to the planet, then they might reconsider ever leaving us. That is when we lure them in. We play with them as they did us and when they think weโve let them into our homes and have respected them, we kick them out of planet, making sure they never come back.โ Sarvin perked up and so did the others. Looking around to each other, they could all see that they were agreeing. A growl of approval came from him and the others all yelled there approval as well.
โLetโs start the hunt.โ Purred Cosmic.
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m45sz8c
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m45glx9
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[WP] It turns out that, rather than space orcs, humans are more like space cats. We believe ourselves to be the best species in the galaxy when we actually are taken care of by more advanced aliens while doing little more than be adorable and destroy local wildlife when left to our own devices.
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โFor only six quizmoโs a day, you can sponsor a human like Larry.โ The advertisement stated, with the camera panning to Larry sitting on the beach, licking an ice-block. โLarry is divorced, lonely and has a weird thump in his chest that he refuses to talk to his doctor about. For six quizmoโs you can give someone like Larry the push they need to get their life back on track.โ
The camera continued following Larry, showing the chubby man splashing about in the ocean with the droplets of water running down his hairy stomach. โAt Humans need love. We help humans like Larry get their lives back on track. Our policy is subtlety in helping, which means we help the humans in ways they wonโt ever notice. It could be as simple as putting a fresh shirt in his wardrobe, switching his meals to something healthier, or even just implanting a charm chip in his brain to help him land a lovely mate. So, if you want to help someone like Larry get his life back on track, please visit our help page, where you will find all the latest details on our newest humans.โ
The advertisement ended with Larry putting away his beach towel at home; the man looking dejected after a day out. Not even the warm sand between his toes could cheer up his miserable life. Though, thanks to the help of humans need love, they located a woman that was also looking for a partner, making it so her car broke down outside of Larryโs home. The last shot showing Larry opening the door, with the two humans smiling at each other, finally feeling some hope in their hearts that things could get better.
โAww, wasnโt he cute? Did you see all that belly fur he had? I just want to pat his tummy wummy.โ Alids cooed, throwing her clawed hands up, the three fingers having nasty black nails that could pierce through flesh in seconds. Her insectoid jaw clicked as she turned to her mate, who only crossed his dark branch shaped arms.
โThey always put the cute ones in the commercials.โ Maxita huffed, being the alien equivalent of a manโs man. He didnโt want to admit the humans story had touched his heart, trying to keep up a stoic attitude, even while he eyed the help page in the corner of the advertisement.
โCan we adopt one? Please. Itโs only six quizmoโs a day. Iโve heard they even give you updates. Our neighbor Heshooal adopted one last week, and she found out he goes outside, drinks a lot of poison and then passes out in parks. Heโs such a sleepy guy.โ
Maxita groaned, unable to deny how cute that was. โFine, we can adopt a human.โ
โYouโre the best.โ Alids hugged her husband, their mouths pressing together, creating a loud clicking noise that sounded like a broken fan blade smashing against its cage. When they broke their kiss, Alids grabbed her tablet, activating the chip in her brain. The chip connecting with the tablet, allowing her to effortlessly bring up the help page. All it took was for her to think about the symbol in the ad, and suddenly it appeared on the tablet, showing all the latest humans they had. She rested the tablet between them as they looked through the results.
โWhat about Andy? Says he likes to fight people at train stations. That sounds fun,โ Maxita offered.
โNo, no. A little too feral for my taste.โ
โIsnโt that a good thing? That means he needs our help more than the others.โ
โIโฆ. guess, I just want one thatโs a little cuter. Less rough around the edges. What about Nina? Says here she wants to be a ballerina, but canโt focus on her dreams because she has to work two jobs. We could support her dreams.โ Alids didnโt know what a ballerina was, but it sounded interesting. To think even these little creatures had jobs and roles, it was all so amusing.
โIf thatโs what you want, my mate.โ Maxita said, not as interested in something so basic.
โFine, Iโll look for someone else. What about Sherry? Says she likes to go to restaurants and demand better service, even before the server has reached her table. Sheโs a wittle troublemaker, yes you are,โ Alids said, patting the little icon that displayed the sixty-year-old womanโs saggy face.
โHm.โ Maxita wasnโt as convinced, scrolling through her profile only to see a video of Sherry punching out another old lady over a game of bingo. That making the alien grin. โOver five confirmed knock outs at bingo. Sheโs been banned from ten bingo halls, but keeps finding a way inside. I like this one.โ
โSee, sheโs our little troublemaker. Think of all the help we can give her.โ Alids hugged her mateโs side as she entered their payment details. After an eye scan, the payment went through, and Sherry was officially sponsored. โI canโt wait for our first update. Do you think sheโs going to turn her life around? Maybe sheโll learn to be nicer?โ
โOr maybe sheโll use our money to get a heavier walking stick to whack people with,โ Maxita said, the alien couple imagining the possibilities, eager to hear receive some news about their newly sponsored human.
(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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I was enjoying browsing through the Spaceships 8920-AB catalog, when I heard a commotion.
I looked up to see the humans coming to the market.
I smiled, watching them saunter all over the place, and buy things left and right.
They were a cute young civilization, whom acted proud, but liked to be spoiled...and they were in the good graces of several ancient civilizations.
Mine included...
Thus it wasn't a surprise when they saw me, they sauntered over confidently.
They talked about their recent "conquests", once again destroying local wildlife on several primitive planets.
I nodded, while being a bit disappointed, alas, what can I do?
Humans are cute, and they bring freshness, and liveliness into the Galactic community, so every now and then, losing some wildlife, instead of studying it...
It's worth it.
"Good job." I praised them.
They smiled, as if saying: "We know we did a good job. Give us our rewards." .
I chuckled, and sent them over some research on new propulsion systems, fuselage and weapons.
Something we already developed a few thousand years ago...and yet they were extremely happy.
Watching them leave with a skip in their step, made me feel good.
As I returned to my reading, I heard the usual murmurs in the market.
The ones who said humans were cute, and were almost getting useful...
After all, humans did destroy several entities we had issues with, as they were rather sturdy, and with huge population.
Humans are like that...good at hunting, and destroying things..and of course, while humans don't like it...they are really good at being cute.
And there was the other party: considering humans as parasites, who do nothing and yet are constantly rewarded.
Most of these negative opinions came from low and mid-tier civilizations though...so I guess it was just jealousy speaking.
Just as I was about to leave, I was stopped.
"Yes?" I asked the Zexorian.
"Your people are the reason my son is marrying a human!" they said, taking out a A-12b-Groxikanus laser.
I watched them fire it...a weapon that is standard issue weapon for the Groxikan Empire army.
Then I watched it bounce of my clothes, as it simply didn't have the ability to bypass my energy shield.
I patted the Zexorian's shoulder.
"Humans are cute to most of us, since we are humanoid, yet much more evolved...
They remind us of our old selves...
Also, while they act arrogant, and they are careless...they are kind to those who help them, in their own weird way, like giving gifts, or going out their way to clean up messes of ours, that didn't really need cleaning.
Also...they are good at destruction, and hunting...which when used properly...brings the Galactic Community much more value, then whatever you are bringing." I said to them.
"But..." they started.
"As for marriage...
Humans take love, and family seriously...so congratulations...you just made yourself staunch allies, so don't whine that much." I said leaving.
My mood to read about spaceships was ruined...and I think I am going home to tinker with the ones I already have.
Goddamn jealousy...from kid civilizations that are not even a million years old...
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k3oml7x
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k3o434b
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[WP] The thing about Cosmic horrors beyond human comprehension is that if you try to comprehend it you'll go insane. But if you name it "squid face gary" and take it only at face value you'll do just fine. If it's beyond human understanding, just don't understand it!
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Most people thought that living near the Omni-Portal was a terrible idea. I mean, why wouldn't they? Most humans had gained a natural disposition towards avoiding the thing when the *first* scream of terror echoed through the world. Dave himself could scarcely forget the feeling himself.
Reality itself seemed to cry out as a literal hole was ripped in thin air. If he could assign a color to the unfathomable *something* that existed on the other side, then he would call it purple, but even he knew that was not the case. The... world... that laid just beyond that portal was not at all something he could comprehend, and even the notion of colors failed to accurately describe what was going on over there. The realm of the Cosmic horrors was incomprehensible in the plainest of terms, and the creatures that casually *seeped* into their reality was no different.
Dave wished that he could explain the creatures that roamed by his house that day. He really did. They didn't walk, or even float. They more of just... existed. They existed all the way past his house, masses of shifted and coiling shapes that never carried a distinct form for very long. They melded and blended into each other as if they were water, moving and phasing through the world as if they didn't belong.
And they didn't belong. Dave realized that very quickly. The noises they made were absolutely awful to hear. Not... unpleasant. Like nails on a chalkboard. Dave had a feeling that, had he the proper faculties to comprehend what they were trying to communicate, that he would find the noises rather delightful. He did not have the proper faculties, however, and as such the sounds that emanated from the creatures, if you could call it sounds, seemed to him as if such terrible, incomprehensible noise. Just recalling such things made his very soul shudder.
And wasn't it an earth-shattering realization that he had a soul? That he could feel it? And, of course, the first thing he could feel on his now very tangible soul was absolute, inexplicable pain.
Most people evacuated the area immediately, refusing to inhabit even the same breathing space as such an overwhelming existence. The ones that were brave enough to gather their things moved the very next day. The United States military came to his small town the very next day, bringing their hardware and their guns and such and attempted to evacuate him too.
Dave did not go. Dave knew what rent and such was like elsewhere, and he knew that he did not have the funds to live there.
So when the military, all brave men and women for sure, were overwhelmed by the Omni-Portal's very existence, Dave watched as they, too, evacuated. He pointedly ignored the unfathomable creatures that followed them with an almost curious gait, then went back to making tea.
There were several weeks that passed since then, and a very concerning couple of days where his utilities turned off, but after he figured that out things were actually pretty peaceful.
He sipped at another cup of tea as he watched a youtube video on his laptop. Most people were still talking about the portal, but life had more or less resumed despite it. The portal, and the creatures that roamed from it, were entirely benign. They didn't have a history of attacking anyone, and almost all casualties had resulted from people succumbing to their incomprehensible nature, rather than any active intent of their own. Dave found that, if left alone long enough, that the creatures simply... disappeared. They stopped existed in their world.
And so Dave left them alone. If all he had to do to be rid of them was to *not* interact, then he could do that. The only real danger came from trying to comprehend them, and so he simply did not. It wasn't hard for him to just *not* think about things. He used to not think about the bills he was behind on all the time. And those actually had a repercussion for ignoring them. The creatures that came from the Omni-Portal were harmless.
A creature, large and moving and sinuous like living banded cord, while flowing like oil, moved past his window. It stopped, and something that looked vaguely like an eye peeked in on him. He spared it a glance, designated it "squid face gary" in his mind because the only thing that had an eye that big was a giant squid, and went back to his youtube video.
He didn't think on it any longer than he absolutely had to, because if he did he'd be doomed.
Instead, he ruminated on the fact that his landlord wasn't here to charge him rent, and he'd finally have enough money to afford a car.
Oh! Or maybe he could just take one of the abandoned ones on the street. Wait, no. That would be stealing. That was wrong.
He sipped at his tea once more.
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I hummed to myself as I took the bucket of chum to the end of the dock.
The name of the song escaped me. It was something that my father used to hum all the time, and I remember asking him the name, but it was escaping me at the moment. Ah, that was going to bug me for the rest of the night. Maybe I could give him a ring when I got back to the lighthouse and ask him. Otherwise, it was going to drive me crazy.
Speaking of which, I could see them writhing just below the surface of the water. Their eyes focused on me, each of them brimming with malice. I could see their teeth glinting in the moonlight. Forms ever changing from one nightmarish configuration to the next.
"Evening, folks," I said as I gave them a wave.
It was an odd life I had. The job was simple- live in the lighthouse, bring a bucket of raw fish meats down to the end of the dock and dump it into the water. I knew there had to be a catch, but I had been desperate for work. When I first saw them lurking in the water, I nearly pissed myself in fear. They were something I could never hope to understand. There had been a temptation to tear out my own eyes, so I could never look upon them again. But that would mean the last thing I had ever seen were those things. There had been no warning about what lurked in the ocean depths.
Madness began to seep into my mind. The more I tried to understand what I was looking at, the deeper my mind sunk. I knew at some point my thoughts would swim too deep, and they'd suffocate under those bleak waters.
So, I stopped trying to understand them.
When I accepted that I could not and would not understand them, a sense of calm settled over me. Even as I walked to the edge of the docks and looked down into the single, baleful eye the size of a truck, I didn't try to think of what it could be attached to. It really didn't matter. Even if I did try to know what it looked like, it would just change in a few moments. No point in wasting my time like that.
"Time for din-din," I said as I turned over the bucket and dumped the contents into the waters. The water began to froth the moment the blood and guts hit the surface. Humming that same little tune. "Who's a good eldritch abomination? You are. You are." I said with a chuckle. "Same time tomorrow?"
Humming that same tune, I began back towards the shore, dangling the bucket from my fingers. I felt a bit of wetness on my cheek, and checked it with my fingers. Blood. Blood seeping from my tear ducts. Only from one eye this night. Sometimes that happened. Even trying to accept the unacceptable didn't seem to work perfectly. Just being near that thing caused all sorts of strange problems. I didn't want to dwell on them.
After all- ignorance is bliss.
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j6qoxdk
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j6qm7bw
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[WP] You used to be a powerful and feared supervillain, now retired and set for life. Now, there's a 20-something at your door begging you to teach them to control their rare power since it's the same as yours. They even know your villain name.
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[TW] slight reference to self-harm/cutting.
It was mid-afternoon in a quiet suburban neighborhood, Dick Duran was stirred from his reverie by an abrupt rapping at his door.
โNow who could that be?โ Dick said aloud as he looked through the peephole.
He opened the door to a disheveled young man, no older than twenty. He had a patchy beard and greasy hair; Dick guessed the man either hadnโt slept or hadnโt showeredโmaybe bothโin weeks.
โHello, young man,โ he said cheerily. โWhat can I do for you today?โ
โI need you to teach me how to control itโplease. Iโm desperate,โ the man was breathless, clearly at the end of a marathon, real or otherwise. โI canโt make it stop. I donโt know whatโs real anymore. Please.โ
Dick was retired. He didnโt want an apprentice, but there was something in the manโs face that moved himโcall it weakness, empathy, an untapped paternal instinctโand he ushered the man into his home.
โTell me, son,โ he said as the man scarfed a croissant and gulped a piping hot cup of coffee, โhow long has it been happening now?โ
โI donโt know. I donโt keep track of time in standard measures anymore. I keep slipping in and out. The answer to that question depends on scale, I suppose.โ
โAh, I see. Iโve been there,โ Dick said as he nodded and furrowed his brow. โAt my worst I kept track in a less than savory manner,โ Dick drew his right sleeve up to the bicep and presented his talley-scarred forearm to the man. โLike you, myโฆscale, was skewed.โ
Dick noticed the man counting the tallies. โSeven. There are seven marks,โ he said somberly.
โHow did you get out? You need to help me get a handle on it. I donโt know how many more slips I can take,โ the man said as he upturned the coffee mug in an attempt to consume the last reluctant drop.
Dick took the mug and refilled it, he came back with two more croissants for good measure. โHonestly? I canโt be sure that I ever did. Thatโs the other side of the coin to our โgiftโ. I think I can be sure of what Iโve accomplishedโcertain marks are indelible even in here,โ he said as he tapped his temple. โBut who knows? The mind is a tricky place.โ
โBut, you were the best to ever do it. You nullified the league of heroes for a whole month off of your power alone. IโI donโt want to hurt people. If anything, Iโd like to help themโI could project paradise in their minds, people could be truly happy. But I know I canโt help anyone until I first help myself. And I canโt help myself without you.โ
โThe best to do itโha! I like the sound of that, son. Iโll take the praise, but thereโs much about that time you donโt understand and never will. There wereโฆcomplications then. There still are now. You think that if a projection of paradise across the minds of the world was feasible I wouldnโt have done it by now? Itโs too difficult. It doesnโt work. As you can clearly see, itโs hard enough to keep your own mind out of errant projections; imagine that on a globalโhell, even a hyper-local scale. Itโd be pandemonium before you knew it,โ he paused and took a sip of coffee. โAll I can really do today is keep my own mind straightโฆbut I might be able to help you.โ
The man smiled brightly. Dick thought he was probably a handsome fellow after a good nightโs sleep and a consistent train of thought.
โOh thank you, thank you! You donโt know what this means to me!โ He said as he reached out to shake Dickโs hand.
โNow. Hereโs what Iโm going to do. I canโt exactly explain how to get a handle of your power, so Iโm just going to show you. Iโm going to project upon you a life in which youโve gained mastery of your skill. When I bring you back, your brain will have carved out the new pathways with which to prevent future slippages.โ
โIโve never thought of that! Why didnโt I just do that to myself?โ The man said as he palmed his forehead.
โYou couldnโt have,โ said Dick patiently. โYou donโt know what it looks like to have control. Sometimes the only way to learn is by living the darn thing. I suppose thatโs easier said than done.โ
The man laid down on Dickโs couchโDick made him shower firstโand prepared for the procedure. He closed his eyes and Dick projected into his mind a peaceful existence. Dick showed him a world in which he could control his abilities with proficiency and efficiency. Drawing on his own experience, Dick showed him how to manipulate other minds and how to recognize when his own had slipped. Dick imbued this manโs mind with seven lifetimesโ worth of knowledge and experience, of failures and lessons.
As the man laid there, a smile appeared on his unconscious face and Dick couldnโt help but mirror it. It felt good to finally help someone. Dick wondered if he had wasted his gift on all those years of treacherous villainy.
But regrets would do him no good now, the past was the past. Still, he couldnโt help but smile now.
______
A dark security desk in a super-max prison. Two guards sit at the console monitoring the tenants of cell block V.
โWhatโs he doing?โ Said a guard pointing at an image on the screen.
โHe does this every now and then,โ replied his partner.
โItโs creepy as hell. Heโs just sitting thereโฆsmiling.โ
โThatโs Dick Duran the MasterMind. Iโm sure heโs projected some world upon himself in which heโs the king, in which he finally achieved world domination. Itโs pretty pathetic, actually.โ
โPathetic or not, it gives me the creeps.โ
Dick sat quietly in his cell, a comfortable smile upon his face, his arms transfixed in an act of unending self-love.
And he was content, satisfied to finally have done some good.
_______
r/InMyLife42Archive
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Another trail of smoke drifted up to the ceiling, joining the rest of the smog in the room. I took a final drag of my pipe, breathing, feeling the thick, herby air fill my lungs before breathing it back out as if a poison. I didn't much enjoy such niceties in my youth, always insisted that they would "stunt my athletic ability". I guess it didn't matter now. I had gotten old anyways.
I rested the pipe, still smoking, at the table by my side and watched as the embers in the bowl faded out.
Retirement was far short of glamour, but it's what I deserved. And peace was nice I suppose. Years of my brain running on constant. Feeling like any moment of rest was a moment wasted. That even when I had a moment to relax my feelings of incompetency would not allow it. But now every moment could be peaceful.
As I got up to walk to the living room a knock sounded at my door. A distinctive rap, in three's.
"Eh, one moment!" I yelled out. The knocking, however, did not stop.
"One second you blasted fool!" I yelled once more, now approaching.
Through the peekhole a young, worried face stared back. One I did not recognize. I looked to him for what felt like an infinite moment. Watched as he paced, unable to still himself even when within the small box of my porch
Upon opening I was face to face with the kid and nothing to say. He stared in seeming disbelief, but with worries too deep to feel for long as his face quickly changed back to worry.
"So? Anything to say or ya just gunna sit there and stare? I mean I guess either way my times already wasted-"
"Scioph? You-you're Scioph! Holy shit google was right." The words came out stuttered and with a series of wild hand gestures.
Ah hell, a fan. It'd been years since one showed.
"Ah yes, yes. So what, an autograph?" I reached for my pocket and pulled a pen loose.
But he only stared, wide and dumb eyed. Like an acorn, nothing of any value behind the shell. Though something about him was surely *different*. It was as if the shadows cast on the ground around him danced at his awkward command. They shook and rattled. Rotated and swirled.
With curiosity I reached out with a hand of my own and took control of them, of the blackness cast onto the ground, his silhouette and shadow. I could feel him fight back, weak, but there. Easily overpowered. He looked to the shadows surrounding him in awe, now mine.
"Ah. Well that's new. I've never met another with my abilities before. Wait you're not my- how old are you?"
"Twenty-three, and you're not my father. At least I don't think..."
"Better if we don't. Well in that case, nice to meet you!" I reached out to shake, to which he offered a hesitant hand in return. It seemed he did not know what came next, until suddenly he blurted.
"I don't want to be you. Mom used to play the news stories about you, the horror you inflicted in your youth. But, but" He took a deep breath, steadied and continued. " But you are all I have. I cant, nobody can tell me how to use *these*." At his utterance of the last word the shadows danced at his feet once more in rudimentary interpretation of his command.
When I was young there was no mentor to guide me, hero villain or otherwise. Instead I explored, experimented, hurt, and became what I am today: Scioph, Stringer of Shadows. Or at least what I was. But despite my jouney I could not find it to deny the boy. His desperation reeking at my doorstep.
"Come in, I'll make us tea, good for nerves. First thing we'll need is to find you a name. A name brings confidence, and you'll need plenty."
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l5bi4cx
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l5bgb28
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[WP] You buried your poor pet a couple of weeks ago. One morning, as you walk out the front door - there it is, back from the dead, sitting on your doorstep - quite rotten, and impossibly alive. Rather, un-alive. It seems happy to see you.
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The house had always felt quiet since Iโd had Bean put down. You never realized how much noise someone made until they were gone.
No matter how hard it was for me, itโd been the right decision. Bean had been in pain in the end. I didnโt wanna watch him suffer through his last days, however long theyโd be, so Iโd set up the perfect day for them, at least with their mobility at the time. Some time outside, ice cream, whipped cream... just a lot of cream, really.
Bean had been my best friend for 11 years, since my dumbass had adopted him back when I couldnโt afford him. Heโd been perfect. Heโd been great.
Heโd been past tense until about 3 seconds ago.
There on the porch, skin barely hanging off his withered frame, was an enthusiastic Bean, hopping back and forth like his hips hadnโt let him do in years. I was still in the doorway for a moment, staring.
Bean crossed the gap, leaping up and putting his paws on my chest. His skin was pallid, cold, but he was doing his best to lick me.
A weird mix of confusion and elation swirled. He was alive! He was alive? Was he alive? Did that matter? It was BEAN!
How was Bean?
โHey buddy,โ I smooshed his face between my palms and felt his skin slide an unsettling amount, but he enjoyed it. โWhatโre you doing... alive?โ
Bean did not know the answer to that question. He was a dog.
โHowโre you here? What kind of affront to god are you?โ I asked as I got down on one knee to spend proper time with him. Even as I asked the big questions, my voice was slipping into that dopey tone you used with dogs.
Then I heard footsteps behind them.
A black cloak. Skeletal fingers. A set of leashes instead of a scythe. The summer air vanished, replaced with a wintery breeze. Bean didnโt seem to notice.
I stood, Bean swapped from trying to lick me and leaned most of his weight against my legs. Iโd always thought that habit was annoying, but now it felt like a blessing.
โHello?โ I asked after a moment.
โHello,โ the thing said. Its voice echoed like it was a chorus as opposed to a person.
โQuite the dog.โ
โHeโs the best.โ I should have been terrified by everything here, but... it was Bean. How was I supposed to be scared?
โMost people think so...โ The thing looked down at Bean, rubbing against my leg.
โWhatโs going on?โ I asked. โHow is Beanโโ
โHeโs not,โ the thing said, โBean has passed but...โ
โBut?โ
โLove is rarely unfinished business,โโthe reaper took another step up the stairs to the porchโโAnd I rarely have the leeway to indulge when it is.โ He reached out a skeletal hand and ran it along Beanโs spine. โBut here we are.โ
โHow long do I have?โ I asked.
The reaper shook their skull. He didnโt need words to explain that this was a stolen moment.
I offered a nod and then got down onto my knees again. Bean attacked me with his tongue, but I held him in place for half a second. โHey buddy.โ
Bean calmed. He didnโt know words, but maybe he understood the tone of what I was saying.
โYou were so perfect, and I wish I could keep you here forever, but-but...โ I took a deep breath but didnโt bother to wipe away the tears. โBut itโs okay. I said goodbye because you canโt be here forever. I canโt either. Iโll just be here a little longer than you and thatโs okay andโโ The words stammered to a stop.
Bean pressed in, breaking my hold and putting his forehead against mine.
โI love you so much, buddy. Iโll see you when Iโm ready, okay?"
Quiet, and then nothing. I was alone on the porch, the summertime air hung around me.
A tear ran down my cheek and I wiped it off. I dried the other side for good measure, but it wasnโt from tears. Bean had left me a last kiss.
โYeah. Iโll see soon.โ
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I showered, and put on my running clothes.
Going outside for my morning run, I froze on the spot.
On my porch, is Lesley.
That cheeky smile, that shaking of the "tail"...
One problem though with this beautiful sight.
I buried Lesley weeks ago.
He died...heroically chasing a villainous squirrel.
The car was too fast, too close to hit the breaks, and my loyal Beagle was no more...
Instant death, or so the people who saw what happened said, but seeing the aftermath of the accident...
My heart broke.
I buried him, and mourned him...still mourning him.
And yet, here he is, "alive", rotten flesh hanging here and there...
"Lesley...", I muttered, and he ran happily up to me.
Good thing he was a good boy, well mannered, and a gentleman, and just sat down in front of me, waiting for the signal that allowed him to go crazy.
He would jump up and down on me, unless I allowed him...and now, I don't think I should allow it.
"Oh, my good boy...who did this...", I whispered, barely keeping the temptation of petting him at bay...
That would be bad I think...
Then he "barked", his jaws clapping, but no sound came out, other the snapping sound.
I was completely confused at first, but I knew what to do.
Calling 911, they reluctantly came out to another "zombie dog", thinking they will find an addict having an episode.
Let me tell you, their reaction was worse than mine.
Not a couple hours later I was visited by the disease center, army, and some special services.
I was to be quarantined for a while for an "exotic" disease ( at least my parents, and close ones heard that), same with my neighbors.
Poor Lesley was taken away, but that was for the best.
All I hope is the thing, or the person who did this to Lesley...will get what they deserve.
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k78igox
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k78docz
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[WP] It becomes abundantly clear to the characters that the narrator has terrible narrating skills. They start to get off track criticizing the narrator for every mistake and bland writing.
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"Father Christmas!" called out the Lord of Halloween across the bloody fields of November. "Your campaign of expansion shall go no further! On my honor, one of us will die before you set foot on October soil! ...We were friends once, Father Christmas! Don't make me destroy you!"
The wind howled and the snow swirled as the two mythical figures stood facing each other. The Lord of Halloween was a tall, imposing figure in his black robes and skull mask, while Father Christmas was a jolly old man with a white beard and a red suit.
"I'm sorry, Jack," said Father Christmas with a twinkle in his eye. "But I can't let you stop me from bringing joy to the world."
"It's not about joy, it's about balance," replied Jack. "October is my time, and I won't let you take it away from me."
The two figures circled each other in the cold night air, their breath visible in the moonlight.
"You've changed, Jack," said Father Christmas sadly. "You used to be full of mischief and fun. What happened to you?"
"I've seen too much darkness," replied Jack. "I've seen what happens when people give in to their fears and their nightmares become real. I won't let that happen again."
Father Christmas sighed and shook his head.
"You're wrong, Jack," he said softly. "Fear is just an illusion. It's love that brings people together and makes them strong."
Jack laughed bitterly.
"Love is just another weakness," he said. "It blinds people to the truth and makes them vulnerable."
Father Christmas reached into his sack and pulled out a small gift-wrapped box.
"Here," he said, holding it out to Jack. "Open it."
Jack hesitated for a moment before taking the box and unwrapping it carefully. Inside was a tiny pumpkin with a smiley face carved into it.
"It's a reminder," said Father Christmas. "A reminder that there is always light, even in the darkest of times. You just have to look for it."
Jack looked down at the pumpkin and felt something stir inside him. It was a long-forgotten feeling, like a spark of hope in the depths of his soul.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Father Christmas smiled and nodded.
"Now, let's go home," he said. "There's hot cocoa waiting for us by the fire."
Jack nodded and together they walked back across the fields of November, leaving behind the battle that never was.
As they reached the edge of the field, Jack turned to Father Christmas and held out his hand.
"Friends?" he asked.
Father Christmas grinned and took his hand.
"Always," he replied.
And with that, they disappeared into the night.
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The gauntlet thrown down, these were the rules
For pumpkins and skeletons, ghosties and ghouls
This was it, they swelled proudly, their line in the sand
Where Halloween would stand firm to protect its great land
But in a far away place, Santa Clause paid no heed
It was shaping up to be the best Christmas indeed
For shops stocked his sandwich, whether tipsy or sober
You'd find them no problem and it was only October
Edit 1 & 2:
Is the Christmas sandwich really just a British thing? I guess consider this your permission to google and try it out!
I don't know how to poem - apologies to those this annoys.
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k3al679
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k3aicrk
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[WP] The public's hate for super heroes has grown. The reason: They don't kill villains, which gives them a chance to escape. You are the leader of the biggest anti-super hero groups. You are going from a rally you get stopped by some of the greatest heroes. They say they're here to kill you.
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"People hate us superheroes because we do not kill our foes, we arrest them. But this still gets them off the streets, makes everybody safer..."
"Turn that crap off!" the passenger in the car shouted, and I complied. We didn't need that noise as we drove home from the anti-supes rally. It hadn't been a large group - supes were mostly popular after all, and those who came mostly had a personal stake in seeing the supes reined in. But still, it was nice to get out there, wave the flag and all that.
And then I had to stomp the brakes just to keep from colliding with the yellow and blue supe that just dropped out of the sky and into the road in front of us. I could hear the two other cars of our mini-convoy screech to a halt behind us, but this was a fairly unpopulated state road, so the only folks affected were me and my friends' cars.
I recognized Ukraine Man right off. Flight, strength, durability, corrupt - standard supe package these days. As the man strutted up to my window, I rolled it down. It wasn't like I could get away from him. All I could do was all I could do.
I hit a button on my phone, rolled down my window, and waited.
"Mercer," he said as he reached my window. "You're pissing off a lot of people with your rhetoric. That ends here."
"What're you going to do, UM, kill me?" I asked defiantly.
"Yes, actually," he replied, shocking me. "Me, Cackles and Brown Lightning above, yeah. We're here to stop your rhetoric before it gets going."
I stared at him. "What, no trumped up charges? No resisting arrest? No denials? No claims to be merciful, when in reality you're really working WITH the villains?" I shook my head. "I guess you supes' true colors are finally coming through."
"It's nothing personal," Ukraine Man said. "You're just an obstacle. If it's any comfort, it'll look like a three car accident. Your families will still get their insurance."
"That's how it is?" I asked him simply.
"That's how it is," he replied evenly, and he pulled back his fist.
I pressed the other button on my phone and he fell to the ground, his body in seizure. Seconds later, Cackles and Brown Lightning plummeted to the ground, ending in sickening thuds that showed that their superhuman durability and flight were not functioning - and now, they never would be again.
I opened the door, signaling to the van behind me with a thumbs up. "UM, you made three mistakes," I said to the supe whose body was slowly stilling, the seizure (and his life) growing weaker. I held up a hand and ticked one finger. "One, you didn't check to see if we were livestreaming. The whole world saw you promise us death. This was self-defense, and this will doom your whole species."
I ticked a second finger. "Two, you arrogantly didn't believe that you could be stopped." I glanced at the middle van where our device was safely ensconced. "We've been working on our dimensional nullifier for years, ever since your kind showed up. It does exactly one thing: it cuts your kind off from what gives you powers. You can survive it, with care, but you were ready to murder us all just for *talking*, so... yeah. Your arrogance cost you."
I ticked my third finger down, leaving just my thumb and forefinger up. "Three, you assumed your past would never catch up with you. You never apologized for all the collateral damage you personally, and your kind in general, deal to the world. One supe fight costs cities millions, if not billions, in damages, and nevermind the lives lost. You're a menace, walking WMDs, and now we have the excuse to take you off the table."
"And who better than a man whose wife and child died when you collapsed the Smithson building during a fight with a no-name no-threat villain just a month ago?" I pointed my hand at Ukraine Man and did a finger-gun gesture at the supe with my two unfolded fingers.
My passenger, who a month ago was a young husband and father but was now a childless widower, exited the van and drew his pistol.
|
โPound sand Amazeballs.โ
โItโs Amazeboyโฆโ The golden dressed young man gritted his teeth.
โOh sorry, where are my manners. I forgot youโre just cringy and cliche. Not cliche and cringy.โ I rolled my eyes ignoring the hero.
A bright red horned man stepped forward. โHe was being serious.โ
โAnd I was being serious that you can leave me alone.โ I retorted cell phone out to video tape.
My cell phone was taken out of my hands in a blur. I hadnโt even seen who did itโฆ โWhy exactly? You are going to kill me because Iโm upset you wonโt kill legitimate villains? Make it make sense.โ
โIt doesnโt need to make sense to you.โ The golden caped hero retorted.
โOh right because weโre sooo below you pretentious bunch.โ
โWe donโt think-โ
โYou donโt?โ I Interrupted. โYou literally have your own set of rules that you donโt have to adhere to but we do? I donโt go around destroying houses, cars or anything else in the name of โfighting crime.โโ
โItโs part of the job.โ The red horned hero chimed in.
โAnd so is terrorizing citizens and letting criminals go?โ
โYes.โ A voice called from behind the small crowd.
I recognized that voice. It was the distinct voice of Rasper. A villain who could vibrate the earth with a voice that loud and raspy. Odd power but it worked.
He walked past the crowd right to my face. โItโs a part of the job because without villains heroโs would have to do boring civilian work. And now what fun would that be? Like you said we are better than you. We do need to adhere to fewer rules and guess what? Weโre cheered on. Celebrated. Worshipped. You wonโt get in the way of that.โ
His expression remained blank. Not an ounce of emotion. โExcept I will and I-โ I was cut off. But not vocally I was cut off by an arm through my chest. In the last seconds I had to process my existence all I could think about was that the people would never even know they were being played.
โFarewell Daniel.โ Rasper whispered in my ear slowly letting my body to the ground.
โโโโโโโ
r/TheBobbius
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l279so3
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l26xiwf
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[WP] You are a lich who retired from villainy long ago and took up teaching at a magical school. Today someone made the mistake of threatening your students.
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[Part 1 of 2]
โYou see, the secret to making a nice herbal tea is a little drop of mint, Diana. Many people overcomplicate the tea by trying to make changes to the tea itself. I think thatโs a waste of time. If the teaโs nice, it will stand on its own merit. All I want to do is give it that touch of mint to really bring those flavors out, like how we teach our students. All our students already have the potential. We are merely that drop of mint that adds to their flavor.โ Sava Landston stated, dropping a small pinch of mint into the tea, showing off his point. โDo you understand?โ
Diana stared at the boney face of the lich, still seeing bits of human flesh stubbornly clinging to it. Those last pieces of flesh being the only evidence that he was a human once. When she noticed the lich staring, she broke out of her trance, flustered. โYes, I see. Thatโs very interesting. Tea really is a wonderful beverage.โ She stated, half listening to what he had to say. She couldnโt understand her feelings towards him, a strange childish crush, or maybe it was a sense of awe from being so close to someone this powerful?
There was an awkward gap in the conversation, both parties sipping their tea, trying to fill the silence with slurps and sips. Eventually Diana pushed a basket of biscuits towards the lich, who took one and threw it into his mouth. The chews were as dignified as he could make them, trying to avoid spitting any crumbs out.
โCan you even taste anything?โ Diana felt compelled to ask, only tensing when the lich gazed down at her. โIโm sorry if thatโs rude.โ He kept staring and Diana sunk further into her chair, wishing she could crawl under the table.
โSorry, it takes me some time to chew. I also need to be careful about spitting crumbs onto the floor, since I donโt have any lips. To answer your question, no, I canโt taste. Not without magical enhancements. I have a spell that simulates the taste of food; however, it is weak, only giving me a small taste of whatever you would normally feel. Still, itโs enough to enjoy your wonder baking.โ
โI see. Thank you for indulging my question.โ
โDiana, we are equals as teachers. If anything, Iโm beneath you since youโve been here for twenty years. Please, donโt feel any fear or anxiety towards me. Who I was back then isโฆ. Was a mistake. If you have questions about lichโs that could advance your knowledge, Iโll help.โ
In Dianaโs mind, that was easier said than done. He was friendly, and she quite liked his company, yet he was still the fearsome lich that had terrorized their city for years. Would those whose families lost a loved one to the crazed lich ever forgive him? โThen, if I may be so forward.โ She took a breath, preparing for the question that had been on all her studentsโ mind. โWhy did you terrorize us for so many years?โ
The lich held up his hand, showing a wedding band that had fused with the bone of his finger. โI went mad. I thought an exchange of life would be possible. If I gave her my life, she would be returned to me and I would forfeit my own. The gods are cruel, though. The spell worked. She was given life, and I was stripped of mine. Yet, she only lived another minute before falling to her illness again. I forced her to die twice because of my own fears of losing her. The quest for immortality drives any person mad, and for someone stricken with grief, that madness increases. I often believe it would have been better if the spell had failed. She would have never died again, and I would have never lived to bring so much pain.โ
Before Diana could respond, one of her students stumbled into the gardens, his hand pumping mana into the wound on his stomach. When he neared the table, he collapsed over it, sending the biscuits and tea onto the floor. โMICHAELโ She screamed, pushing his hand away to apply her own healing magic.
โMiss. Bandits again. They have magic this time. We tried to fight.โ He wheezed, throwing his chin against her shoulder, trying to endure the pain.
โWhy would you do something like that? I told you where the money was, didnโt I? If they ever came, you were to pay them off.โ
โThey said it wasnโt enough. Wanted double. Youโre already in debt. We didnโt want you to suffer.โ Michaelโs words were cut off as Diana activated another spell, putting him to sleep. Diana doing her best not to tear up in front of the lich, who hadnโt shown a drop of emotion this entire time.
โYou sweet children, you shouldnโt worry about me. I would have been fine. I could have found more money if I had to.โ She gave him a hug before setting him down in the chair, making sure the wound had sealed. โIโll handle this. My problems wonโt become yours.โ She glanced at the lich, only to notice how hard he was gripping the table, breaking off a chunk of wood as his rage smoldered.
When he stood, the chunk of wood came with him, before being dropped by his feet. โNo, Iโll go. I will ensure these bandits never come back again.โ Those firm steps only halted when Diana grabbed his shoulder.
โPlease donโt kill them, not in front of our students. Magic shouldnโt be a bloodthirsty thing. I donโt want our mages to think that every problem can be solved with killing or bloodshed.โ
โWhy did you pay them? You could have beaten them. Iโve seen you fight.โ He asked, peering back at her, those lights of green magic he had in his sockets, watching her.
โBecause I was scared, they would send more bandits if I didnโt. I canโt be everywhere at once. What if they started ambushing them while they were out? Bandits arenโt the type to be scared off by a few deaths. They would only retaliate until we lost some of our own. I couldnโt risk losing any of our students.โ
โNo, losing our students isnโt an option. Iโll honor your request for peace.โ When he made it outside, he found the bandits mercilessly taking down whatever students got in their way. While the fight would have usually been in the studentsโ favor, none of the students were able to outmaneuver the barriers the mages had set up, providing the bandits protection from their spells.
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1chxrzs/wp_you_are_a_lich_who_retired_from_villainy_long/l279ujc/)
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"Ms. Keening?" A soft voice echos from outside of the classroom breaking Isadora's concentration as she grades the latest class assignments.
As Isadora looks up from the piles of papers and reports strewn across her desk she notices Alonius, one of her students enter the room, a large bruise across his cheek. "Ah, Alonius. We missed you in class today, I can assume the cause of that unsightly bruise is to blame."
Isadora stands from her desk walking over to Alonius and placing a hand on his cheek, in an instant the bruise fades leaving no evidence it was there at all "Th...thank you Ms. Keening." Alonius whispers, before sitting down at the desk closest to Ms. Keenings as she takes her seat as well.
"Now tell me, what happened to you today Alonius" Isadora asks, her face turning from one of care and guidance to focus and concern. "Well I was making my way to class this afternoon and got stopped by a group of men, I borrowed some money from them a while ago that they came to collect and when I told them I couldn't pay they did this." Alonius puts his finger to his cheek, forgetting his bruise had been healed for a moment.
"How much did you borrow? And for what?" Alonius squirms in his chair at the question clearly uncomfortable "five hundred, they said I owe seven now because of interest and I don't know how I'm going to come up with the money." tears begin to roll down Alonius' cheeks as he speaks. Isadora stands from her desk and approaches him, placing a hand on his shoulder "There's no need for tears, my students are under my protection and I can help you with this but you have to promise me one thing" Alphonse nods his head in agreement as she continues.
"You are never to borrow money like this again, if you need money I will help you open an account with the golden hand. Do we have a deal?" Isadora says as she admonishes Alonius. "I promise Ms. keening, it will never happen again. Please don't put yourself in harms way on my account though." A small smirk flashes on Isadora's face as she stands "Don't you worry, I wouldn't know how. Now tell me where these men stopped you."
As night falls Isadora arrives on the street corner where Alonius was attacked, as she waits she eventually hears a few voices coming from a nearby alley and as she approaches she notices a gang of young men talking amongst themselves and without hesitation she walks up to them "Excuse me, do any of you know an Alonius" she shouts, grabbing the groups attention "Who wants to know?" one of the group responds.
"My name is Isadora Keening, I'm the head of magical theory at Alzers academy and Alonius is one of my students. I found out he ran afoul of some thugs something about some money he borrowed." one of the thugs men approaches her as she speaks "So, does he have his teachers fight all his battles for him? Ya, he owes us 700 Rows and unless you're here to pay it you should leave."
Isadora steps close to the man and places her hand on his chest "No, I'm not here to pay it and I won't be leaving until you erase his debt and promise me you'll leave him alone." The man looks at her confused "and what if I tell you to get the hell off my turf before you get hurt, you aren't the first to come looking for a break from me you know" he says as he pushes her hand off him.
Isadora looks the man in the eyes "Oh but I'm very much different from the others." She says as he puffs up his chest "Ya? How's that?" Isadora gets as close as she can, looking up at the man "Because I will be the last if you don't do as I say" the men all let out a hearty laugh as the man looks down on Isadora "How about you get out of here before you get hurt old lady."
In an instant Isadora has her hand on the man's skull, his eyes turning pitch black as he freezes in place, Isadora flooding his mind with her exploits and her knowledge. The rest of the gang freezes as they see their boss frozen in place waiting for him to say something. As Isadora releases the man he collapses to the ground, frantically trying to get away from her.
"Get away, get away from me! He doesn't owe me shit. Get out of here, get out!" he screams through tears, clawing his way across the cobblestone alley to get away from Isadora, his men picking him up off the ground as he starts trying to run pulling them away with him.
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jd1qa8o
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jd13fqe
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[WP] "God can come have coffee with me if he's really interested." You said, shutting the door on some irritating guys with pamphlets. The very next day, God taps lightly on your door, to have a coffee.
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"I'm a little surprised you brought Dunkin."
The man standing in your doorway is holding a box of donuts and a pair of paper coffee cups. He's dressed plainly, if a little datedly; wearing slacks, penny loafers, and a red zip-up sweater, He resembles nothing so much as a Mr. Rogers impersonator. You can't clearly see His face- some sort of otherworldly light (you hate to describe it as a halo, but no other word really fits the description) is shining from just behind His head, blinding you to the details of His appearance.
Even if the halo weren't there, you would know who this visitor was. There's a unique feeling that comes with being in His presence. It is, in equal parts, totally alien and hauntingly familiar. There is an overwhelming sense of love radiating from Him, a love great enough to be felt by everyone in the world.
God is standing on your front porch, and He's brought coffee.
"Is something wrong with Dunkin?" He asks. There is a gentleness to His voice that suggests genuine curiosity, and quiet amusement.
"Er, no, not really..." You explain, stepping back to let Him in. "It's just that, well... It's kind of ordinary, isn't it? I mean, you have access to all of history's greatest coffee-makers. You could have called up Juan Valdez or something!"
"Juan Valdez is a fictional character." He explains in a tone not far removed from a laugh. "But if you want Columbian coffee instead, I *do* know a place."
You've lead your guest into the living room now, and you're just about to try a donut when the question you're dying to ask jumps out unbidden.
"Are you here to punish me for turning away those guys with the pamphlets?"
"Nah. Rejection's part of the game when you work door-to-door."
"So... Why *are* you here?"
Your guest helps himself to a cruller, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before finally answering, "Can't a guy take a coffee break?"
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There was a "tat-tat" sound on the door. I rushed over, wondering who the surprise visitor could be, but all that was on my porch was a package of coffee. The label said Veronica Coffee Co. I looked down the drive to see if I could catch a glimpse of my mysterious benefactor, but it appeared as if they'd rushed away because I saw no sight of them.
At first, I was hesitant to pick up the package, wondering if it was a bomb. I didn't think I had any enemies, but who wouldn't think it strange when a bag of coffee shows up unexpectedly? After inspecting it carefully, I gave in and picked it up. From it came the most pleasant aroma. I shook it, hearing beans within. *Hmmph*. It seemed perfectly fine. I read all the text on the package, which was strangely sparse, lacking even an address of where it was made. There was just the label in a thick green cursive font overlaying an image of something reminiscent of the Big Bang.
The flavor was printed below - "All Knowing. All Seeing. All Places."
If that wasn't a weird flavor of coffee, then I didn't know what was. I scratched my head for several minutes, wondering if I should text my friends to let them know that I'd received this strange package. I took pictures of it with my phone, planning to post them on Instagram, but when I went to upload them they were gone. So I took the pictures again, and the same thing happened. *Terrible time for there to be a bug in my phone.*
*Fine. I'll just text them.* The moment I was about to tap send on the text, my phone shut off out of nowhere. I tossed the coffee aside and started fiddling with my phone, trying to get it to work. At least an hour went by before I gave up and went back to the coffee. Later, the tech at a phone store told me that all of the chips inside were fried due to a rare malfunction that had only happened to six other devices of the same model. This same malfunction was also probably responsible for my inability to send the pictures that wouldn't send.
Anyways, so my stomach was grumbling now and I remembered that I had a tasty pastry waiting for the perfect cup of coffee. So I opened the package from Veronica Coffee Co. and got my french press. The package only had enough for a single cup in it, and it measured perfectly with no leftovers at all. So I made the cup, and it was by far the best cup I'd ever had in my life. Total coffee perfection. When I took my last sip I actually felt sad that it was over. I looked at the package again, trying to see if I'd missed an address or something so I could order more. Just like the first time, there was nothing.
I shook my head. I just had to tell someone about this, and not having my phone really sucked, so I decided to drive to my brother's house a few streets away. I grabbed the Veronica Coffee Co. package and got in the car. At this point, I should've expected something to happen, since everything about this was strange, but I didn't give it a second thought. And as you probably guessed, that was when the accident happened. I was proceeding through an intersection when I was T-boned by another car. I lost consciousness, my car was totaled, and of course, as you can guess - the coffee wrapper was destroyed.
That wasn't even the strangest thing. The occupants of the car who hit me were the two men who came to talk to me about God the day before. When I woke up in the hospital and found out, I knew that none of this had to be a coincidence - that somehow I was being called by God. I couldn't prove a shred of what happened to me was true. Yet I know it was because I experienced it. You can call me a liar, a fool, or a person who believes in fantasies, but what happened to me is real.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
\------
This was a fantastic prompt!
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j58xfhg
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j589rh4
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[WP] The queen is dead. The kingdom burns around you. Her soldiers fight on, but the invader is relentless. You do the only thing you can; you flee to beg mercy from your god, to call on your protector to cast out your enemies. You leave the hive in search of its beekeeper.
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I had never seen such a monster as I did that day. It was far larger than I or anything similar I had seen before. A giant that attacked our colony. We couldn't fight it, no matter how we tried. It was to big, to powerful.
I hid. I didn't know what to do. I knew I should fight, but I couldn't. I watched everyone die uselessly against the monster. I wouldn't be the same, I couldn't be the same.
So being hidden, I was able to see that it brought friends. More of the monster where coming to attack. I ran away. I abandoned the queen, the colony, the hive. Everyone and everything I knew and I ran.
The fear of the monsters was to powerful for me. I am ashamed of what I did, but all actions have consequences right? I got lucky and ran into the keeper when I left the hive. The protector, the god. It's not like I can speak to the thing but I danced in front of it with my flight and managed to get it's attention. The god seemed to understand that I was drawing it to the hive. It followed me.
When I arrived back to the hive I could see my friends bodies or parts of them anyway. The other invaders had started to arrive and I saw them eating my friends.
One of my friends was poised in battle against an invader. Dodging and distracting. Fighting for the colony. Until something slammed over her and the invader. The invader flung itself at the wall to no avail.
God had picked a target. I knew it was only a matter of time until the invader killed my friend in the confines of the new prison, but that didn't matter to the god. Something slid under the prison and lifted it. I watched as the god took its prisoners away to a pool. I watched as it drowned them both. Not caring that my friend was in the crossfire.
It then left, quickly. There are more invaders though. So many more. I didn't know what to do. Did God kill one and abandon us?
I didn't have to wait long until God was back. Apparently the capture method was to slow and the god had other plans.
It unleashed the very clouds upon the invaders, and the colony. I watched it horror as they got covered by the clouds it weighed them down and they struggled and died. I only survived because I was away from the colony, away from the invaders.
The god then captured our queen carrying her away and what remained of the hive followed. Everyone, other than me. I could only stare at the destruction that was caused. By the invaders, and by God as he punished them. However God had inflected clouds upon them and us was obviously powerful. Many on both sides lay dead. I can only assume God took the queen to keep us away from it.
It couldn't have been long I started hovering at the remains of the hive, but maybe it was.
Because the next time I saw God again my God was not alone. The entire pantheon had come. Armed with white armor covering the body. Some of them carried trees as weapons. They examined the hive.
I thought I knew why they were here but I had to know. I had to see.
I was right, God had called his compatriots for vengeance. God may have killed many of my hive, but that was God's right as a God. The invaders had stepped on God's domain there will be vengeance and there was.
The pantheon of God's wielded trees, clouds, and weapons and tools I can't begin to describe when they found the home of the invaders. Eliminating them and looking, hunting for more. I don't know if they were hoping to find more to destroy in their vengeance or if they were being cautious.
After all, how can I know the intentions of God?
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With my greatsword in hand, bloodied, and barely enough time to catch my breath, the quest is complete.
Boss Queen Bee Slain
20,000 Exp
Level Up
Suddenly my body feels rejuvenated, no longer a scratch left on my body, and full of energy again, itโs time for
Master Plan Part 2: Get the HELL Outta Dodge!
The ground and walls all begin to shake. The hive has caught wind of my deeds and realizes the Queen is dead. The loud beating of thousands of beesโ wings rumbles the whole hive. I bolt towards one of the exits from the Queenโs inner chamber. The hive finds itself steadying even as the mass of worker bees 3 times my size aim their sights on me.
โFire blast!โ I aim my greatsword behind me as a fiery bolt of energy emanates from the blade and rushes the bees head on. The bees split for a moment but only enough to disperse the front few before a bee in the back takes the fire to the chest, practically unscathed.
Using a series of small areas set up in advance by the expert dungeon delvers, Iโm able to make my way steadily toward the closest exit. But the bees can still sense me and are only slowed down a little bit in the process.
I can see the path to the large hole in the hive to make my escape and float my way out back to the surface. But the bees are more ferocious than I anticipated. Iโve already used up all my items for extra boosts, so all I have is my own potential, but I can feel them practically breathing down my neck as I run down this long corridor.
โI canโt make itโ I think to myself. โPlease, in the name of all that is mighty and free, protect me in my time of need!โ Just as I finish my plea, a bee nicks one of my legs with their stinger as a numbing venom rushes through my body. I topple over, head straight into the ground as I bounce along the floor towards the exit.
The sound of heavy foot stomps from around the wall of the corridor stomp toward me. I manage to get a good look at the spectacle before me. Someone wearing a typical beekeeper uniform wielding a fishing rod unlatched the hook and begins spinning the strand around in a circle. At the end of the hook is a bag pouring out some kind of orange dust. The horde of bees seem to stop in their flight and start falling to the ground. A few of the more resistant bees decide to charge into the fray, unaffected by the orange dust. The delver leaps high into the air with a forward somersault, dodging one bee, as the fishing rod whips toward the next closest bee. The bee is wrapped up by multiple wraps of the fishing line.
โWire Cutter!โ The womanly voice screamed as she begins to land. The fishing line wrapping the bee cuts cleanly through as multiple chunks and bug guts fling into different directions from the power of her skill. She steps back as the third bee swings just past her, missing her only by a few hairs. She whips her rod back towards the first bee that went past, preparing its next attack against the delver.
โWeighted Bait!โ She yells out once more. The fishing rod wraps the bee charging in only to fall straight to the ground as the weight of the fishing hook is now so heavy that it is crushing the massive bee due to its weight alone. The last bee is only just now about to charge once more against the delver.
โHook, Line, and STINGER!โ She calls out again. She gives her rod a swish as the the line starts to pulse with blue and silver energy. The line magically wraps up the bee and finishes by going taut. The beekeeper starts twirling the bee in a wide circle around her head, finally bowling the last bee into the rest of the downed bees with a flourish.
With the bees finally taken care of, the beekeeper looks back my way, her face mostly hidden by the beekeeper mask. I can only make out a portion as the heavy chain links of the mask hides the majority of her features, but I can tell sheโs smiling as she hovers over me.
She gets real close to my face, โThis your first time, Mr. Interloper?โ She looks me up and down. โWell then, letโs make it your last time.โ Her smile, suddenly twists into a much more menacing smirk. My eyes go wide as she grabs my greatsword and places it into my hands. Then, she plunges my own sword into my stomach. Unable to move, my mind is racing as I consider any potential options, but the full body numbness limits pretty much every option. She raises the sword and plunges it back down again. Even if I could do something, I wouldnโt have the strength now. She stands up and places her foot up against the side of my body, and pushes me over the exit from the hive.
Falling never felt so peaceful before. Damn the god that made me believe that I had been saved in my desperate plea for safety. But if this is the way I go, then at least it wasnโt painful.
โ-fy, -fy, -fy, -fy~โ A low, bassy echo dances across my ears, still feeling the rush of the air whisking past as I can still sense myself falling.
โ-ify, -ify, -ify, -ify~โ again the low, bassy echo streams past my ears, competing for attention with the sound of the air rushing just as strongly as I still fall, longer than I expected to fall.
But then, the rushing air suddenly stops and everything goes quiet and dark.
A loud, deep, guttural voice of something almost ethereal and slightly muffled, rings out, seemingly from inside my own head.
โREVIVIFY!โ
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j9skv4n
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j9r17p3
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[WP] The knight who saved the princess was a 40 year old man with a wife and kids. He doesn't want her hand he just thinks teenage girls shouldn't be held captive in towers in the middle of nowhere.
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Sir Lawrence third of his name hefted his armour clad form over the towers stone windowsill with a grunt.
He rubbed his eyes with gauntlet covered fingers, mouth aghast, as he surveyed the scene before him.
This was not how these things were supposed to go.
Heโd been set up, a rookie mistake.
Lawrence sighed. He knew theyโd be talking about this at the tavern for weeks, a Knight of Lawrenceโs Caliber being caught in such a position, it was disgraceful.
Made worse in the context of the previous few days horrors: scorching deserts, beasts from the abyss, loss of his best sword- a tragedy.
Refusing his wifes request had been out of the question ,who with a firm passionate voice had persuaded him to partake on this quest.
โSheโs 14 Lawrence. Basically a child! That tower is no place for her!โ
Heโd tried to argue. โBut itโs coming up to my Birthd...โ
โLawrence! This isnโt the knight I agreed to marry. Youโre going, and Iโll hear no more about it!โ
The look sheโd given him had left him with no room for further manoeuvre.
โYes dearโ heโd groaned.
Five days later and here he found himself, taking in the scene of the highest tower at the tallest peak.
Bangs erupted. Confetti filled the air. Birthday banners draped from every corner.
His wife, family, friends and fellow knights filled the room, helmets up with a grin spread from ear to ear.
โHappy birthday Lawrence!โ They cheered.
But at least the cake was Victoria sponge.
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At first, I tried talking to the hooligans in reasonable terms.
>"You know, locking a teenaged girl up in a tower with no social circle or emotional outlet isn't going to do wonders for her mental health" I noted.
>
>"Yeah. We know. Now go away before our captain calls for the archers to shoot you." one of the outer wall guards responded.
>
>I heard the subtle twing of bowstring from on high.
>
>"Alrighty, thanks for your explanation. Have a wonderful day!" I turned to walk away.
Then, I tried coercion.
>"What do you mean, I don't look convincing! Why, I'm this princess's long lost sister!" I tried my best feminine accent.
>
>"Last I remember, princesses didn't have full grown beards and sound like gruff older men in their 40's." a guard noted. "Do you remember meeting the long lost sister of Princess Persephone?"
>
>"No, I didn't." the guard responded. "If I remember right, it was quite a big deal that the king only ever had one daughter. One is none, and all that."
>
>"Yeah, got it." the guard turned to me. "Please leave before our gunmen shoot you down."
>
>I heard the loading of a magazine from on high.
>
>"Very well. I'll be on my way."
Finally, I tried deception.
>"I'm here as an inspector from the Occupational Safety and Health Administration, also known as OSHA, to inspect your castle for proper workplace and building practices. Please, if you will, step aside, and let me enter so I can do my job/." I asked politely.
>
>"OSHA won't exist for another couple hundred years, American. Now scram unless you really want our captain to come out and greet you personally." the guard glared at me.
>
>I heard loud, thunderous stomping from much closer than on high.
>
>"Dang it! Too meta. I'll come back tomorrow." I noted.
>
>Groans emanated from both inside the castle and from the outer wall guards.
Finally, the day came. I was tired of this girl being locked up in a tower.
So I did the right thing.
I picked up my phone, and started dialing.
"Hey, this is Greg." Greg said.
"Hey Greg, wanna go raid a tower?" I asked.
"Sure!"
Soon enough Greg and I were at the tower.
I casually walked up to the tower. Archers, gunners, and the sounds of a very buff man yelling came from the other side of the gate.
"Hello there, castle guard." I smiled.
"Hey, I thought I told you to scram." the guard replied.
"What? Me? Scram? What a preposterous thought!" I laughed.
Immediately, as I predicted, gunners, archers shot at me from above.
They didn't stand a chance.
Bullets and arrows all bounced off me hopelessly, before I chugged a potion from my inventory, and started jumping up into the air. Dirt blocks spawned below me, as I turned my B Hopping cheat on. Then, just for funsies, Greg and I started teleporting around the base at random. Men screamed as they were placed in Obi traps, becoming floating corpses in the middle of the sky, all drowned in midair. I swung at someone with my sword, and they caught on fire. But this wasn't the point.
Soon, Greg and I- having thoroughly dispatched their captain- skillfully used admin commands to teleport ourselves into the chamber where they held the girl. I pulled out a pickaxe, destroyed her chains, and set her free.
Moral of the story? Honestly, I don't fucking know.
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jqyhjge
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jqy7rew
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[WP] Youโve been bitten by a Zombie. Youโve already said tearful goodbyes to your loved ones as they leave you behind. The bite should make you turn in twenty minutes, so you sit down on a bench and waitโฆ two hours later youโre still sitting there.
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What a time to be alive.
Or dead, I guess. Or somewhere in between? Mom was right; I should have been a doctor. Maybe if I was, I'd have some idea of what's happening to me. And, more specifically, what's *not* happening.
I'm not dying.
I should be a mindless shuffling maniac by now, slowly rotting from the inside. I know the infection has taken root; more than a few zombies have passed me by without a second glance.
Yet my heart still beats.
I can feel it. I can hear it. I can smell the blood flowing through my veins and it almost makes me sick. I sit for another few hours, quite sure that I've lost my mind, or that I've perhaps finally graduated to Hell Original Flavor as opposed to only Hell on Earth. A living breathing human runs up in a panic. I can hear every squishy thump of her heart hammering away in her chest.
"Oh thank God!" she says. I wish she hadn't brought him up. We're not on speaking terms. "I need your help, please! My son, he's trapped." I sigh and stand up. "Alright then, let's go." Not like I have anything to lose. She leads me through a series of back alleys, and I can hear more hearts thumping up ahead.
"Oh," I say. "An ambush." I feel a rush crash into me like a wave and time slows down. I see the woman open her mouth to shout at the others while she reaches for her pistol.
I see my hands wrap around her face and twist.
The snap did make me gag, but I recovered fast enough to take her pistol and kill the others. I don't feel too bad about it. Bandits deserve no mercy. I also feel rather proud of myself for not feasting on any of them. I didn't feel the urge to, but I am quite hungry. Luckily, their supply cache was nearby and well stocked enough that I could travel. I suppose I might as well catch up with my family. I'll insist that they lock me up but, if we get in a scrape, my new *talents* might come in handy.
What a time to be alive.
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In the back of my mind, I always knew it would end this way. I just expected it to be moreโฆ violent.
Instead, it was a small bite to the ankle when I walked too close to one I thought had already been eliminated. The bite was so small, I didnโt even bleed. A rookie mistake, and the costliest mistake I could make.
I havenโt even had time to be sad about it. In fact, Iโm pretty pissed. I have managed to fight my way out of a hoard, tear apart one with a freshly broken arm, and sneak away unnoticed when a blind one entered my bedroom in the middle of the night. But the one that took me down was missing its entire lower half of its body and barely managed a nibble before I put a bullet in its brain.
So now Iโm here, a mile away from my family, sitting on a bench of one of the old bus stops. I surprisingly didnโt meet any undead on my walk out here โ not that it would matter at this point โ but I feel naked without my usual arsenal of knives and pistols that I have learned to keep on me over the past two years.
Iโve lost track of how much time has gone by, but it certainly feels like longer than 20 minutes. Itโs probably the anticipation of it, making time speed up, but I find it hard to believe the feeling of my flesh burning hasnโt set in yet.
I glanced up at the sun, trying to determine what time it was. It seemed to be after 4pm, and I thought back to how long ago I had been bit. The sunโs angle wasnโt really my priority at the time, but I vaguely remember the high angle it had while I was saying my goodbye to my husband, and the way the shadows were cast on his face as I burned that image into my brain to carry me through the rest of my short life.
Wait.
That would mean I had said goodbye over two hours ago. Impossible, since I was bitten a few minutes before that.
I jumped off the bench, rubbing my knuckles into my eyes as if that would change the position of the sun when I next looked at it. It didnโt.
I glanced at my skin, which still looked full of color. I didnโt feel any burning under my skin, signaling the turning of my blood. If I didnโt know any better, I would have looked and felt as if nothing happened.
I reached down to pull up my pant leg to check the wound. Maybe, since it wasnโt that deep, it was taking longer than usual for it to turn me.
At my ankle was a small scratch, but no sign of broken skin or a bite.
โNo!โ I gasped, dropping my pant leg, and stumbling backwards.
It was impossible. I had felt the bite. Sure, it wasnโt a big one, and I didnโt bleed, but it had to have broken the skin enough, right?
Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I lifted my pant leg again, wiping at the spot with the fabric of my jeans to see if I could uncover a hidden deeper scratch perhaps. Nothing else was there.
I glanced up, unsure of what to do next.
Was I infected?
Was I safe?
There was no way to tell. But I had to go back to camp, just in case. I couldnโt risk being out here any longer, on the slight chance that maybe everything was going to be okay.
Tears sprang to my eyes, and the thought that I might be able to see my husband again almost made me collapse.
A rustle from the tree line behind the bench dried my tears and made my blood run cold. I took several slow steps backwards, putting as much distance between myself and the trees without making too much noise. I reached for my knife, and my stomach dropped when I realized I didnโt have it.
A male zombie emerged from the trees, not yet spotting me, but aware of my smell.
I took another step back, hoping I could make it to the other side of the street before I would run for my life to camp.
The zombie turned to me, his undead eyes locking with mine.
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lcfbi27
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lcdzpyj
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[WP] You got a rug designed to look like an Ouija board as a gift. Liking it, you placed it in your living room. Now your roomba's summoned a demon and it can't leave until the roomba asks for something.
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"Man, what's that racket downstairs? I must've forgot to turn the TV off again. And what's that smell? Did my eggs go bad in the fridge?" I say this while walking down the stairs leading to the landing that leads to the stairway into the living room. When I get to the landing, a sudden yawn comes on.
"YOU HUMAN!"
A deep demonic voice shouts, cutting my yawn short. I open my eyes and see a large demon with charred black skin, red fiery eyes, large dangerous-looking black horns, and what looks like steam rising from its body. Sitting on the large Ouija Board rug, a couple of friends got for me as a birthday present.
"HUMAN! I DEMAND YOU EXPLAIN WHAT THIS IS AND WHY IT SUMMON ME!" The demon demanded, pointing at me with his left hand, and in his right, he holds my Roomba, which I glued large googly eyes on the very day I bought it. "WHAT IS THIS, HUMAN!? IS IT MACHINE? SOME KIND OF CREATURE? OR AN UNHOLLY COMBINATION OF BOTH?!" The demon grasps it with both hands and stares deeply into those goofy eyes. "TELL ME, VILE CREATURE, WHY DID YOU SUMMON ME?! GIVE ME YOUR ANSWERS! REVEAL YOUR SECRETS TO ME! I CAN NOT LEAVE THIS OVERSIZED BOARD FOR I AM SOMEHOW BOUND TO IT! HUMAN, YOU MUST ASSIST ME IN INTERRIGATING THIS CREATURE, I DEMAND IT!" The demon shouts, turning towards where the human was, the demon still holding the Roomba, but the human wasn't there, not wanting to deal with this at the time, he had already slowly snuck upstairs after he heard the demon saying he was bound to the rug. Slipped on his noise-canceling headphones, he went back to bed, and shortly after, he fell asleep. "HUMAN, WHERE DID YOU GO?! I DEMANDED YOUR ASSISTANCE!"
"HUMAN!"
"HUMAN?"
The demon then turned his attention back to the Roomba he was still holding. "WHY DID YOU SUMMON ME DARK CREATURE!?" The demon yells in rage. Shaking the Roomba, causing its pupils to roll around.
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I received a rug designed to look like an Ouija board as a gift and, liking it despite its overt macabre feel, I placed it in my living room. My roomba or as I would like to address him, "Rover," began cleaning the ominous rug. Suddenly, the lights flickered, the temperature dropped, and a sulfurous mist filled the air. A puff of smoke erupted, and, upon dissipating, stood a tall, pompous demon, dressed in picture perfect couture with a monocle perched on one glowing yellow eye of his.
Yeah. Perhaps placing a rug with such a design inside the living room wasn't the best idea.
"Greetings, mortal. I am Azazel, Duke of the Ninth Circle, Keeper of the Eternal Flames, Coordinator of one of Lord Satan's children," he began, then paused, glaring at Rover. "I have been summoned by... this lowly contraption?"
"That's my roomba," I replied, still trying to process the situation I had gotten myself in.
Azazel sighed dramatically, his bright red and yellow eyes rolling heavenward. "And what purpose does this 'roomba' serve?"
"Rover. Call him Rover. And, oh, you know. Vacuuming dust and dirt of the sort." I answered, now seeing the fun in poking a demon who seems to hold himself to such a pontifical standard.
"Oh by Hell's grace, you cannot be serious right now! Bound by a machine, not a machine that kills or destroysโ but a machine that cleans! How far have I fallen from grace! Oh, to be bound by this machine named Rover!" The demon uttered, growling in frustration. Funnily enough, he spoke like one of those pretentious royalty portrayed in pop culture. I held onto dear life, trying not to let out a chuckle.
"Oh, human! Would you be so kind as to free me from such ignominy?! I only need Rover here to request a solemn favor, only then will I be free to depart! This is according to Hell's Constitutional Law 367!" Azazel practically begged, edging closer to me, his hands clasping together. To think that he exuded such a magnanimous air when he appeared, only to now be reduced to such a state. This would go absolutely viral, had I only brought my phone with me.
"Rover is quite outdated though. It doesn't have a voice feature unlike many modern roombas." I lied. Straight up lied. This roomba is the latest model.
"My word! I-if that's the case... N-now what... This is a travesty of Chthonic proportions." Azazel practically breathed out, his voice coming in only jagged breaths, his 9 foot figure drooping to a slump. Why would be believe me so fast? Without even an inkling of doubt? Perhaps critical thinking isn't quite the norm in Hell.
"I guess, I'll have to live here forever. Down in the home of some wretched human, watching over his blasted robot until the end of eternity." Azazel mentioned, clearly defeated. So much for being the Duke of the Ninth Circle. Had I not taken acting classes recently, I would've broken character and laughed long ago.
Azazel went through the five stages of grief quite quickly, stupidly enough.
Realizing I had leverage, I proposed a deal.
"Azazel," I spoke to the demon's slumped appearance. "I could get the roomba to speak, but only under one condition."
"You damned creature. You know I don't like being subjected and reduced to the losing end of the bargain. I do, with every fiber inside me, hope you know what you're getting into." Azazel's eyes found its once lost spark. Perhaps I bit off more than I could chew...
๐ธ๐ธ๐ธ๐ธ
Any suggestions and critiques to my writing are welcome! ๐ธ
[My subreddit/portfolio if you want to drop by and take a peek! I hope to be writing here a lot, so do expect the quantity to skyrocket! ๐ธ](https://www.reddit.com/r/KittenMantra/s/eZJMeTJj1b)
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joo1kxb
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joo0qux
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[WP] You were once an adventurer but when was turned to stone. Your party tried to save you but it was too late, so they place you in the center of a town they founded, now years later an army marches onto that town and with every once of willpower you try to moveโฆand with groan you take a step.
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Once more I watch the sun set upon the narrow cobblestone streets from atop my platform, my duty done, my eternal sentry resumed. My home secure again.
My story began 76 years ago, although I suppose some might say that it ended. When I was a young man of flesh, blood, and a stout heart I first arrived here on the plains of stone. I was one of a group 7 men that had been gathered from the kings army to deal a witch that had been harassing the local Sheppards.
It had taken us months of scouring the country chasing what seemed like every rumor or whisper we heard in every Tavren and Inn. All leading to the fertile plans in the south country, it was known only as the plains of plenty when i was a boy, it would seem that the witch, had a particular fixation upon the monster Medusa from the mythology of the Greeks. She had created a potion that would turn any living thing, plant or person into stone if the liquid touched it. She carried around viles strapped upon her person and would hurl them upon her foe.
Our party had been careful to keep our distance as we pursued her through the plains, we lost several pack animals and horses to the potion, and left a trail of stone grass, trees and and anything else unfortunate enough to be caught in her crossfire.
Finally we had her trapped on the banks of the Forma River. She had hidden herself away in small cave on the rivers edge, with only one way in, and out, and the terrible stone elixir to contend with upon any entrance. I valued the life's of my comrades perhaps more then my own, and volunteered to lead the assault in order to assure their safety.
I bundled myself in layers of fur and blankets, anything I could find in an attempt to keep the potion from reaching my body. As I burst into the cave a half dozen of these bottles were thrown at me all striking true, slowly I could feel myself loosing the ability to move as the elixir took affect. But I was able to draw my sword and run the witch through with my final breaths.
Much time has passed since then. My fellowship refusing to leave me in that dark cave brought my stone body up to the rivers edge, placing it the center of their camp, my sword still drawn, my body still coverd in the rags I attempted to protect myself in. The camp has grown into a small town since that day, Stonesedge is my home now, and I'm happy here.
For 76 years I watched as the children, grandchildren and great grandchildren of my friends called this place their home. I felt the sun upon my face and the rain upon my head as I stood watch over my town. I watched as the built homes, shops and schools, and for the first time in 76 years, I walked.....
Stonesedge had as terrible a day as I could remember, raiders from the north sailed down the Forma River and began attacking my town. A few of the young men had tried to resist only to be murdered in the very square in which I sit. The raiders set up camp demanding that my people deliver every gold coin, silver chalice or anything else of value to them upon first light lest the town be torched.
The blood from the slain sons of Stonesedge had slowly trickled towards my feet as the night fell. As I anguished at there deaths and worried for the future of my home I began to feel.... loose. With a groan deeper then any I had gave out when I was flesh I took a step, then another.
Mobile and yet still stone I was able to lumber, as though some sort of golem that had no business existing upon this earth. But I had only goal upon my mind, protecting Stonesedge.
It seems that being stone has some advantages, as I approached the raiders camp on the edge of town I was greated with a couple of bolts in the dark that seemed to glance right off my chest, the carnage began as I reached the picket line however. My sword, stone now could not cut, only bludgeon, so I did. The screams of my victims woke the rest of their party and they all came running weapons in hand.
A few were brave enough to attack me with their axes and swords, only to have every blow stop dead in its tracks, the shafts of there weapons reverberating in their hands, I was able to clumsy swing my club of a sword fast enough to catch a few, but that's all it took. The raiders with fear in their hearts decided that fleeing the stone man that could not be harmed seemed a better decision then waiting for death.
I step atop my perch agsin, as the sun begins to rise, resuming my watch once more over this place that has become my home.
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He remembered wandering away from his companions when he decided to explore the woods they had bivouacked in. They had spent the past year exploring ancient ruins containing a rumoured treasure chamberโฆa rumour that they had proven to be true. They had gathered what they could of the treasure, which included the usual jewels and gold, as well as odd trinkets such as amulets and tablets with intricate inscriptions. It had been the plan to bring these findings to the historians in the capital, although that was not to be.
At least, as far as Jean Mabbott was concerned.
He recalled hearing the footprints that followed him from behind, although before he can turned around to see who the individual was, he was temporarily blinded by a sudden flash of light. He still remembered the cold heaviness as muscle and skin were gradually replaced by stone, the subtle crackling of minerals crystallising and solidifying echoing in his ears and ultimately drowning out his beating heart. Within a few brief, fleeting moments, he was completely immobilised, a figure made of stone. He had been an explorer for the royal court, faithfully serving his king through the years. He had helped to expand their trade routes to distant lands and established productive relations with different nations. His findings and explorations have also contributed considerable information into the historical tomes about other lands and unexplored ancient cities. This adventure would have contributed to another chapter in the history books. And within an instant, everything was gone.
Yet despite it all, he could still hear and see everything that took place around him, and he remembered hearing the panicked cries of his companions, as well as the arguments and threats. It had been years since all of this had transpired, and he supposed that stone simply did not retain memories too well. He did recall his companions bringing him back to the capital. The king must have been informed, however, since it was not long before he was placed on a pedestal in the plaza just before the palace, and the somber ceremony that took place in his honor and memory. Days turned into months, and months turned into years. As time went on, he witnessed the city around him slowly change and grow. He sometimes wondered why he continued to exist in this state, although over time, he gradually grew to accept his fate. Life went on, and he kept his vigil over the city and his king.
Then the day came when he heard the trumpets heralding the return of the king and his soldiers from a journey abroad. He watched as the subjects gathered to witness the kingโs return, and it was then that he noticed a familiar face in the crowd.
Enno Harley.
The face of his former traveling companion opened a floodgate of memories in him. Jean knew exactly what was about to take place, an event that was years in the making and one that he had been an unsuspecting pawn in. He did not know if the sudden onslaught of emotions that he was feeling had any part to play in what happened next, but Jean suddenly realized that he could feel some movement returning to his fingers. Around him he could hear the excited murmurs of the gathered crowd. The royal entourage was drawing near, and Jean had to act quickly. He had to do something.
With a groan, he was able to lift up one foot, and then the other foot followed. He could feel small fractures and cracks materializing in the stone as he leapt down from the pedestal, although he did not care. He has to reach the king. The subjects that had stood closest to him cried out in surprise at the sight of a statue that seemed to have suddenly come to life, and he had no trouble making his way to the king as the crowd parted for him, the looks directed at him a mixture of bewilderment, horror, and sheer awe.
With the last bit of strength and structural integrity Jean could muster, he leapt in front of the king just as Enno shoved through the crowd, his blade drawn and raised. Jean remembered everything now. There was a plot that was not meant for his ears that centered around the assassination of the king and usurping the throne, and the ancient ruins they had been exploring contained an amulet rumoured to be able to turn any living thing to stone. The original plan had been to use the amulet on the king, although Jean became the first test subject when he had unknowingly stumbled on the conversation. He now remembered the triumphant smile that Enno had given him, confident that his plan would unfurl without a hitch. This act of betrayal by the one he has considered to be among his best friends and confidants enraged him deep into his core, and he was determined to set things right once and for all.
He could feel the blade strike one of the fractures in his shoulder as he leapt in front of the king, and the final thing that Jean saw before everything went black was the look of utter horror on Ennoโs face as the kingโs soldiers surrounded him.
With his true purpose finally having been served, Jean was free.
*****
The plot was more widespread than anyone had originally thought, and many individuals, including the kingโs own brother, were tried and imprisoned in the preceding months. Eventually peace was restored throughout the kingdom though, and life returned to normal. A new statue of Jean Mabbott was carved and placed back onto the pedestal in front of the palace. Every now and then the king would visit Jeanโs statue as he used to do since it was first brought to him. It had been years since the incident took place, and the old king marvelled over how the story had changed over time through simple word of mouth. The version being shared these days spoke of the statue of Jean Mabbott falling atop of Enno Harley just as the latter was about to assassinate the king, a tale of karmic justice often used as a cautionary story for children to do good in the world. Yet the king knew better, just as he knew that this new statue was different. Before he used to get the feeling that the old statue was somehow alive and sentient, although he no longer felt such a thing with the new statue. Deep down, the king knew that Jean was truly gone now, and he hoped that the place that his loyal explorer had gone to was a happy and peaceful one.
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j8erip5
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j8er3y3
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[WP] It's december, and you've decided to write a letter to santa. However, in a hideously simple mistake, you misspelt santa. Now, sitting in your room with a present labelled "from satan", you open it to be confronted with....
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"Dear Satan"
My damn dyslexia will be the death of me. In five minutes.
I've re-read the letter ten times now, praying my eyes are playing trick yet again.
But no, there it says, quite clearly, "My deepest condolences, From Satan".
Maybe I should call in a bomb squad. That would be the responsible thing to do. My mistake shouldn't fall on the heads of those unfortunate to live around me. Or I could somehow launch it into space, or bury it in the deepest depths of the ocean. Send it to my enemy... No, that's too evil.
I'll just shove it under my bed and forget about it. It seems harmless now. I just have to resist opening it ...
No, I'll never sleep right again. I should move, leave it buried in the backyard. I could bury it in the national forest next door. But that's probably illegal.
I hold up the small square carefully. It's 7 by 7 inches, flat, and lightweight. Just a few ounces and wrapped in red shiny paper with a bow sporting devil horns. It appeared out of thin air with a pop at the strike of midnight, December 25, Christmas day. Then just hovered in the air one foot from my face.
I shift the paper back and forth as if I can somehow test it's deadliness this way. Then I dare to shake it. Just the faintest rattle.
Well, screw it, I'm opening it. The devil knows me now personally. Can't get any worse.
Yes, I wrote my name and address on the envelope. I wasn't so fortunate as to screw that up.
I peel the folded corners of the paper open, careful not to tear. Unfold it from the back while holding it away from myself at furthest arm's reach. Any explosions will hopefully go the opposite way.
Out of the packaging drops a simple CD. The one I asked for. And a note.
"Dear Michael", it read. "Find a better taste in music."
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Every Saturday morning was the same for weeks now. The window curtains would let in a cobalt blue light, letting me know that I'd slept enough, that I should run the shower or the coffee maker or make breakfast or any other reason to motivate me to get up. Today, it was coffee. Honestly, most days were coffee.
My phone buzzed, a text from my sister. "You wanna hang out with me and Georgie today? Ice skating? Santa visit?"
"Sure, what time?" I replied back.
"11am good for you?" she asked.
I looked at my phone, it was a quarter to seven. I sent a thumbs up back and put my phone down. I cupped my hands together and trapped a breath inside before turning on the coffee maker. It grumbled to life, shaking itself in fear or courageousness. Olli had always been both scared and excited by the thing. It was the sign that a walk would happen soon, even in his last days, he'd let out a happy howl and walk towards his leash. A brisk two mile walk around the neighborhood before his breakfast and his post-breakfast nap. The last year of his life, the two mile walks had turned into quarter mile walks. Enough to get to his favorite trees and bushes.
I had tried to continue our routine, but the morning walks had felt a few degrees too cold or too warm or too annoying. I let the coffee brew. In the summers, the dandelions bloomed and littered the neighborhood with their puffs. Olli was a proper fan, taking chunks of the flowers, chasing their seeds when they blew into the air. During the winters, he still searched for them, digging at or rolling around the snow in an attempt to smother the future flowers. Georgie, my nephew, had joined him on several occasions.
"Georgie's been begging for a dog lately," my sister said on one of the walks.
"I thought John was allergic," I said.
"Yeah, but look at them." She replied.
Georgie had been lobbing snowballs in lofty arcs towards Olli who snapped at each one. Georgie would yell and cheer while Olli zoomed around him in neat circles.
The coffee machine screamed its last cry, sputtering out the last of its dark gold. My phone buzzed again, another text from my sister.
"We're writing letters for Santa so make sure you write one too."
"Really?" I sent back.
"Yes, really. Don't be the lame uncle that ruins the magic of Christmas."
I looked for an envelope and a letter when my phone rang again, it was my boss asking for some email forward for something he should have done himself. I told him it was the holidays, that I'd get it done later, but no, he needed it done now. I asked why he couldn't do it, he said he was with family and I said much of the same. He told me it wasn't a request and I told him to piss off. More words, more threats.
My phone buzzed again, my sister letting me know she was here. I looked at the unwritten letter on my coffee table, I jotted the first few things on my mind. Addressed it to the man up north and licked the seal. I told my boss to piss off one last time and wrapped my nephew in a bear hug.
"Uncle Lee!"
"Heya Georgie, you ready to see Santa? You have your Christmas list ready?"
"Mhmm! Can you give me a piggy back ride?" Georgie asked.
"You want a piggy back ride fifteen feet away to the car?" I said, already kneeling down.
He laughed and whispered in my ear.
"I'm going to ask for a dog like Olli," Georgie said.
What a coincidence, I thought.
The day passed, getting colder by the hour. Ice rinks were skated and Santa was visited. The helper elves took every child's letter and said they'd pass it on to the many toy factories in the North Pole. Santa looked glassy-eyed and full of eggnog, but he did his best listening to all of the children's requests for games, pets, and the removal of every vegetable ever. Georgie himself said he wanted to rid the world of cauliflower and I told him I'd ask for the same thing.
I went to sleep thinking about how I'd have to look for a new job, I went to sleep waiting for the morning cobalt to wake me up. Instead, I opened my eyes to a glowing amber. My room felt hot, I smelled smoke. I found the source immediately, a burning box in the middle of the room. It was a large box, wrapped neatly, the thing was on fire, but nothing else had caught its flames.
"Is this a dream?" I said aloud.
I walked closer to the thing, wrapped in red. There was a label on it, a black letter taped onto the side of the present.
"From Satan," it read. "Hey, Boss. We don't normally get requests like that, but I liked the cut of your jib. This thing took a while to track down and it doesn't come free. If you accept the terms and conditions below, it's all yours."
I heard the box shuffle around and the flames quit out. The windows turned cobalt blue, but I was already awake, sitting in front of this box. The ribbons undid themselves and the lid toppled over. I made eye contact with the beast in front of me, likely a demon, a dog shaped demon. A demon named Olli.
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j2qes97
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j2og35e
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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: โPress the button. NOW!!โ
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"You got it!"
*click*
Nothing happened.
"Aww well." I sighed "Guess I'm fired now huh?"
"Wait you actually pushed the button?" The distorted voice on the other side of the line asked "You broke the ONE rule we told you not to break?"
"Yeah pretty much..." I paused and continued. In for a penny. "Well no. I broke all the other rules too. I dont sit in front of the button all day either. Its bad for your health. I stand up and walk around to stretch my legs sometimes.".
"Well the sitting part is just a figure of speech. We wouldnt have fired you for that.
"Well good because I was ready to report you to OSHA if you did. But thats not all. I talk about the job all the time. Made a post on r/writingprompts last month to gauge how people would feel about it. Most people leant towards not pushing it so I kinda explored all those possibilities in my imaginaton. Not enough pushing it responses though, so here I am to sate my curiostiy."
I paused for a reaction. Nothing. So I continued to ramble as was my nature.
"I'm surprised I havent been fired already. I figured a mysterious employer that could afford to pay me a generous wage for doing nothing would have a much more extensive surveilance network. I'll be disapointed if I find out I've been keeping my choices in porn tame all these years for no reason."
"I dont understand. Why are you being so honest?" Asked the voice on the other end of the line "Why did you push the button? Why after all these years of discipline you crack immediately with no resistance?"
"Well I'm not very good at lying. If im going to be fired anyway I might as well lay it all out. As for the button, the boredom for one. I got a good amount of savings so that should hold me until I find another job. But i figured the day would come that I be tested. And either they would be looking for obedient drones or something else. I know myself. I could never thrive in a position where I had to obey orders and do nothing else. So I decided to stay true to who I am. I have no way to gauge what criteria you are trying to measure so one answer was as good as any button pushing-wise."
"Werent you worried it might launch a nuke and kill millions or open a portal to hell or something?" queried the voice.
"Yea or it might release a cure for the common cold into the atmosphere and disarm all nuclear weapons. What can I say? I'm a gambler. And a bad one."
After a pause the voice responded "One moment please." Followed by silence.
A minute passed I decided to push the button a few more times in case this was part of the test.
TBC?
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Josh often felt like his life had no meaning. He went away to college to study literature and he failed an any attempt of social relationships.
The only person that still call him sometimes was his roommate Andy, but Josh thought the only reason was that he felt guilty about all the homeworks he copied from him during the year, and because he had this need to be liked by everyone so he tried too hard to be friendly.
Josh was a pretty good student, actually one of the best, but he didn't think much of that and he consider himself mostly lucky for his result. Nonetheless he graduated with excellent grades. He was hired as a professor.
He dreamt as a child to be like one of those professor you see in movies, that changes the life of their students and live a mark on the world. He didn't felt this as much as then when he was hired, he chose the university because he never had any other lead on what to do so he just went with it.
One day had a heavy fight with his mother that morning, that left him strained and nervous and that eventually led him to clap back, but hours later, against a student. Turn out this student was the son of some important functionaire or something like that, and his father pressed for him to be removed. He never kept contact with his colleagues and he interrupted every contact with his family.
He was at a laundry when he encountered the man who offered him the seemingly perfect job. They both were regular and Josh recognized his face even if they never actually talked to eachother. This time, the man approached him like he were the best of friends, and told him that there was an opening for a task that didn't required any special skills nor to interact or even see other people. The job consisted in sitting in an empty room, with a red bottom at the middle of it for 8 hours a day, without ever pressing the red button and without talking to anyone about the job. He said that no one would accept these condition and that someone even thought he was joking, or worst trying to screw them over, so he was desperate to find a person to hire and that he was basically begging anyone he met. He was really surprised when Josh said he would have take the job. It sounded like a perfect representation of the useleness of his life.
So, from the day after, Josh went to the room with the red bottom, and for the next six years his life went on without any changes. His mom often tried to called over the years, trying to make amend for their fight and asking him what he was doing for a living. He forgave her eventually, and he let her know that, but he refused to elaborate on any questions she may have on his personal life. He often went to the laundry and he often met the man again, they mostly have small talk, and nothing else.
It was another Monday at work, ordinary as every other day. His phone ringed, he sighed before answering. "Mum, I already told you that how I live and what I do is not your concern, just made peace with it and go on". "I'm not your mum Josh, now hurry and press the red bottom in the room". A familiar, panicked voice almost screamed the words, Josh took a while to put his finger on it. "Andy, I believe that's you, right?" "Press the bottom Josh, NOW". He seemed freaked out, in a rush. "I don't know what are you talking about or why are you calling me, so maybe take a breath and drink some water, or alcohol if it better fit your state, and then have a good day. Goodbye Andy" "no, you don't understand, you really need to-..." Josh closed the call.
He finished his shift and went home. He ordered an Hawaiian Pizza by dominos for dinner. For the first time he stopped to thinking about the strange interaction he had at the phone. For the first time in years he asked himself what he was doing, actually, with his life. What the meaning of his job was. What would have happened if he had played the bottom.
The following day he went to work, and after at least an hour of going trought unresolvable questions, he pressed the red bottom. He then took his jacket and left, directed to his mother house. He owned some explanation after all. He texted Andy. "I did as you asked me by the way, even if I totally don't understand how you would possibly knew about anything. do you want to get a beer one of these days?"
And so, Josh's life went on. He often went to the laundry. He never met the man ever again.
Edit: paragraph
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j2pr8j8
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j2og35e
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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: โPress the button. NOW!!โ
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Easiest job in the world.
David knew he had the easiest job in the world - all he had to do was sit in a room for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. It was practically free money! Of course, there was one condition.
Do not press the red button. It was what his supervisor told him when he started working here, what his workmates told him every day, there's even posters on the wall giving him a constant reminder.
It was November 3rd when David worked his final shift. He was sitting in the room, as usual, until the phone started to ring.
"Weird," he thought to himself, "I never noticed that was there."
He walked over to the corner and picked up the phone.
"Hello? Is this David Smith?"
"Yes, who am I speaking to?"
"That's not important right now, I just need you to push that red button."
David paused. He looked at the glowing red button in the middle of the room.
"I'm afraid I can't do that. It's my job not to."
"David, this is more important than your job. You need to press the button."
"I can't."
"You have to."
"I don-- what does it even do?"
Silence.
"I'm afraid if I tell you then you won't press it."
"Well that's not very reassuring, is it?"
"David, please, you need to press it. Trust me."
"Trust you? I don't know who you are!"
"Millions, billions of lives are at stake here. You need to press the button."
"I... I need to talk to my supervisor."
"Is he with you in the room?"
"No, he's just--"
"For God's sake, do not leave that room."
Silence.
"Why?"
Silence.
"Excuse me sir, why can't I leave my room."
David stared at the button again. He was just about to hang up the phone before he heard a faint, calm voice.
"False alarm. Everything's fine, carry on."
David was relieved. That solved itself quickly. As he thought before, easiest job in the world.
"So I don't have to press the button?"
"No."
"I can safely leave the room?"
"Yes. I encourage it!"
"Phew. That's a relief. Just out of curiousity... what does that red button do?"
Silence again.
"I don't know. No one knows, really."
David laughs, but then thinks to himself for a moment.
"Sir, you were just saying that you wouldn't tell me because I wouldn't press the button if I did know, byt now you're telling me you don't know?"
"A white lie. But as I said before, false alarm."
"You said billions of lives were at stake."
"What I meant by that was--"
"Sir, who are you?"
...
"David, do not press that red button."
"Go to hell."
--------------------
This is my first time doing one of these btw, let me know where I need improvement.
|
Josh often felt like his life had no meaning. He went away to college to study literature and he failed an any attempt of social relationships.
The only person that still call him sometimes was his roommate Andy, but Josh thought the only reason was that he felt guilty about all the homeworks he copied from him during the year, and because he had this need to be liked by everyone so he tried too hard to be friendly.
Josh was a pretty good student, actually one of the best, but he didn't think much of that and he consider himself mostly lucky for his result. Nonetheless he graduated with excellent grades. He was hired as a professor.
He dreamt as a child to be like one of those professor you see in movies, that changes the life of their students and live a mark on the world. He didn't felt this as much as then when he was hired, he chose the university because he never had any other lead on what to do so he just went with it.
One day had a heavy fight with his mother that morning, that left him strained and nervous and that eventually led him to clap back, but hours later, against a student. Turn out this student was the son of some important functionaire or something like that, and his father pressed for him to be removed. He never kept contact with his colleagues and he interrupted every contact with his family.
He was at a laundry when he encountered the man who offered him the seemingly perfect job. They both were regular and Josh recognized his face even if they never actually talked to eachother. This time, the man approached him like he were the best of friends, and told him that there was an opening for a task that didn't required any special skills nor to interact or even see other people. The job consisted in sitting in an empty room, with a red bottom at the middle of it for 8 hours a day, without ever pressing the red button and without talking to anyone about the job. He said that no one would accept these condition and that someone even thought he was joking, or worst trying to screw them over, so he was desperate to find a person to hire and that he was basically begging anyone he met. He was really surprised when Josh said he would have take the job. It sounded like a perfect representation of the useleness of his life.
So, from the day after, Josh went to the room with the red bottom, and for the next six years his life went on without any changes. His mom often tried to called over the years, trying to make amend for their fight and asking him what he was doing for a living. He forgave her eventually, and he let her know that, but he refused to elaborate on any questions she may have on his personal life. He often went to the laundry and he often met the man again, they mostly have small talk, and nothing else.
It was another Monday at work, ordinary as every other day. His phone ringed, he sighed before answering. "Mum, I already told you that how I live and what I do is not your concern, just made peace with it and go on". "I'm not your mum Josh, now hurry and press the red bottom in the room". A familiar, panicked voice almost screamed the words, Josh took a while to put his finger on it. "Andy, I believe that's you, right?" "Press the bottom Josh, NOW". He seemed freaked out, in a rush. "I don't know what are you talking about or why are you calling me, so maybe take a breath and drink some water, or alcohol if it better fit your state, and then have a good day. Goodbye Andy" "no, you don't understand, you really need to-..." Josh closed the call.
He finished his shift and went home. He ordered an Hawaiian Pizza by dominos for dinner. For the first time he stopped to thinking about the strange interaction he had at the phone. For the first time in years he asked himself what he was doing, actually, with his life. What the meaning of his job was. What would have happened if he had played the bottom.
The following day he went to work, and after at least an hour of going trought unresolvable questions, he pressed the red bottom. He then took his jacket and left, directed to his mother house. He owned some explanation after all. He texted Andy. "I did as you asked me by the way, even if I totally don't understand how you would possibly knew about anything. do you want to get a beer one of these days?"
And so, Josh's life went on. He often went to the laundry. He never met the man ever again.
Edit: paragraph
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lsdvyjr
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lsdhna0
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[WP] The hero, normally jovial and humorous in their interactions, steps into a watering hole for villains, shaking with rage, tears running down their face, and with as much patience and calm as they can muster, simply asks "Who did it?"
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"Who did it?"
Barely above a whisper, but the room went silent like someone just sucked the air out of it. Daybreak stood there. They looked like they'd been crying.
"She's dead, and I know one of you had something to do with it. I won't ask again."
Their voice tight, the air hummed with power. This wasn't like him. Something was very wrong. He was a boy scout, played by the rules. But every instinct told me people were about to die.
"I believe the person you want to talk to about this is me." Came a booming voice from the street. Nightfall, their nemesis. Shit...
In a blur, he was outside, and the fight began. The patrons scattered and ran. I don't blame them. Those 2 were leagues above the rank and file crooks and minions like this place dealt with. I hunkered down, with my leg busted. I'd never clear ground quick enough to be safe.
Daybreak bellowed the question over and over.
"Why?"
Tears streaming down their face. Nightfall was silent, they took a few hits, evaded a few more...
Why weren't they fighting back?
"You can undo it, I know you can. Science, magic, you know all the angles. You always have a backup plan. Undo it! Or I swear to God I'll..." and explosion cut off thr rest.
"That isn't going to happen. It's over."
With a scream, Daybreak became feral, terrifying, I've never seen him like that. No one had. He was incoherent, and still. Crying. What was happening?
Their blows became slower, weaker, they had pushed too hard and worn themselves out. Nightfall was moving in for the kill. I couldn't believe someone was finally going to put Daybreak in the ground...Nightfall hugged him. Daybreak collapsed into the embrace. Weeping.
"It can't be over, she was so young."
"I know, Frank, I know. When I heard about the aneurysm I came as soon as I could. I knew you'd be a wreck. I didn't want you to do something you'd regret. I respect you too let you ruin all the good you've done over a tragedy beyond anyone's control. All we can do is carry on and try to learn how to live. Now come on, let's get you home, take a shower and get some sleep. Melissa's funeral is in the morning."
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A hush grew across the bar, the chatter and clinking falling to a whisper before fading altogether. Eyes swept toward the door and gazed upon the figure who commanded their silence. Rocket Man. The beloved hero of their metropolitan city stood like an obelisk, gripping the door frame as he pierced into everyoneโs very mind and soul. A fire burned from within him, baring teeth from a clenched jaw. No one dared utter a word, not even a cough.
Rocket Man grabbed an empty chair resting by the door and smashed it into the wall. Splinters and wood flew like shrapnel from a grenade. The closest patrons shielded their faces and coward from the explosion that echoed throughout. The rest of the crowd had stiffened, reflexively leaning away from the door and itโs hostile force. Still only silence remained, the patrons had fallen into a wordless obedience. They knew who top dog was and while they all could maybe jump him together, no one wanted to test an enraged Rocket Man and be one of the many casualties that would most definitely be created.
โI let you bastards exist out of kindness and decency!โ Rocket Man bellowed to the room in a manor unbefitting. Everyone present has heard him get angry and upset beforeโฆ but not this.
โR-rocky, we donโt know wh-โ
Before finishing another word, Rabid Bitch was lifted into the air by her throat. She started to cough and wheeze, desperately trying to claw at the arm of Rocket before he drove her into the table she sat at just seconds before. The table cracked under the force and caused one of its legs to snap. It fell to the side and so too did Rabid, rolling onto the floor. She gasped for air as a few close by flew toward her and helped get her to her feet.
โNot. One. **WORD.** From any of you unless itโs a confession or information. **WHO?! FUCKING WHO?!**โ
The villains remained in a silence, but their eyes darted between one another. *What happened? Had anyone heard anything? Someone must have bragged about something, right?* All these thoughts and many like them swam through the minds of all present. Whatever it was, it was big and bad. Someone did something to warrant this much rage from the hero, but what? And equally important, who?
A shuffle from the back. Another. And another. Small steps as someone tried to slowly and quietly fade further and further into the background. A couple from the back started to notice. And then more. And more. Heads started to turn and look at a lone individual. Rocket noticed this. As his gaze met the sneak in the back, he bolted for the back door. The jets on Rocket Manโs jet pack ignited into a high pitched roar, sending him sailing into the air above the crowd and directly into the runner. His arms outstretched as he reached his target, grabbing them and bulldozing them through the back door and into the air. Higher he flew as he stared the very intent of death into his captive. A relatively new villain to the scene, Boulder. He should have absolutely learned the rules of engagement by now.
As they rise higher into the night sky, Boulder sniveled and cried as he clung to Rocket Man for dear life. The horror and fear flushed every other thought out of his mind. He croaked out something as their ascent came to a halt, several hundred meters in the air.
โP-p-please! I-I-I-I did-dnโt kn-n-n-now!โ
His helmet hid every expression, but Boulder felt the malicious force emanating out from within that very helm. He cried out, begging and pleading for Rocket to understand, show compassion and mercy. Heโll take himself in! Heโll resign immediately! Heโll abandon everything and leave! Anything!
All fell on deaf ears.
โThe rules exist for a reason, Boulder. Not to keep things fair, not to have honor or respect. They exist because I *own* you. You are *my* playthings. And when someone strays from that path..โ
Rocket Man released his grip.
โTheyโre not worth playing with.โ
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[WP] You are a young mage who just discovered the horrifying truth about where mana actually comes from.
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*โWe tried to tell you!โ* Sang the faerie king. *โAt no point in the process did this august body utter an untruth!โ*
A cold spike of clarity drives its way through my body.
โYouโฆ you saidโฆ the real mana was inside us, all along?โ I can hardly get the words out.
The faerie king nods vigorously.
*โThatโs right young mage! Inside, inside!โ*
โThatโฆ true magicโฆ was the friends we made along the wayโฆ?โ
*โYesyesyes! We have said this maaaany tiiimes!โ*
He giggles. He dances. He floats through with the looping grace of a bumblebee.
They werenโt stupid faerie aphorisms. Their words were only ever literal.
My ears ring. I canโt get enough air; I am suffocating under the burden of what we-
What **Iโve** done.
Every test culled a few members from our cohort. I thought they were justโฆ going home.
The absurdly large flowers in the surroundings with their scarlet hues and thick petals were comical, once. Cute, even.
Their nectar was light and refreshing. We got some after each trial. As the weeks went by, it tasted sweeter. Grew our powers more than the time before. I thought we were just developing a taste for the stuff. That it worked better the more you drank. I guess that partโs true, still.
The petals look macabre now. Their absurd size suddenly making a grim logical sense. The nectar thickened and sweetened over time to a bloody hue and taken on a cloying taste.
*โOpen wiiiide magey magey! Your medicine is ready!โ*
They wave a crude goblet in front of my nose. It is decorated to a childโs aesthetic. Lumps and dents, studded with acorns, rocks, and websโฆ they look like flesh, bones, and veins now.
I take a long look inside. This isโฆ wasโฆ Colette. She cried so hard when I won. She must have known.
She wanted to bring rain to her parched homeland. And I guess it was Juno, too. She wanted to cure her fatherโs illness. Ronan, who wanted to โunlock the mysteries of the universe.โ I got along best with him.
*โIsโฆ something wrong?โ* the king hovers close. His court turn their gleaming eyes to me. Whispers drift around the branches.
Plenty of flowers around. Certainly enough for one more. Best not to risk it.
โNo. Thank you.โ
Bottoms up.
They cheer.
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Okay this idea was a little out there, and it has been a long long time since I wrote anything, but here is my go: (note, wow I forgot how annoying reddit formatting can be)
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**It is a well established fact of our world that mana, that force that allows the casting of spells and the propagation of magic, waxes and wanes through the course of our lives, and that some poor souls seem to be born without the ability to generate mana at all.**
**Of course the presence of mana, and the ability to use it are not always tied together. Indeed some of our most talented mages are able to perform incredible acts of magic, while wielding only a modicum of mana, and some of the most powerfully endowed of mana, are unable to channel even a simple light spell. Indeed it often seems that the most powerfully endowed of mana are paradoxically the least likely to have either the skill, or desire, to learn to channel their mana at all. Often living mundane lives of work and family.**
**This curve is not always a linear progression, indeed it has been noted by many practised mages that their available stores of mana seem to wax and wane as time progresses, following a roughly lunar cycle, offset by a personal differential. Not everyones most powerful times coincide with the same lunar stage, however they are usually the most powerful at the same lunar stage each month.**
**Another oddity, is that men seem to be gifted with the skill of mana for much longer than women. All humans are born equal, in that we have no access to mana at all at an early age, those unlucky mana-less few being indistinguishable from the rest. It is not until early adolescence that we gain the ability to sense and wield mana. Coinciding with the advent of puberty our magical talent awakens and begins growing within us.**
**While women tend to be slightly stronger than men, their potency sees a rapid drop off around age 30, and almost all women lose access to their mana by age 55. Whilst a man may remain magically active well into his 70s, his potency will have much diminished from his youth.**
**It was these differences that led me to study mana in depth, to try to learn the reasons behind these apparently arbitrary limitations. My first clues were to examine those few that were cursed with no mana at all. These few seemed to fall into a couple of broad categories. Those whom developed no mana in their lives, and those whom lost access to their mana by some means before their otherwise allotted time.**
**It was from studying these later people that I discovered a significant correlation. Those who lost their mana, and of course were willing to undergo study, all seemed to have some form of injury to their lower torsoโs or lower bodies.**
**Indeed the majority of my research subjects were the victim of their own magical experimentation backfiring on them, usually literally, while performing spells that had the unfortunate effect of rending them limb from limb. Sometimes the hapless researcher was rendered down to nothing more than a torso, bereft of mana, and of a will to live. These poor souls drive to furthering the study of magic was the only thing that gave them any will to live. To them I am eternally grateful, for had I not had their help I would never have discovered the source of mana.**
**It was the study of the nature and extent of these injuries and the concomitant effect on the subject's mana that I was able to reach the beginnings of a theory, and begin study. Through tireless research, and some less than pleasant experimentation, I was able to discover the horrifying truth.**
**We power our mana, our magic, through the expenditure of our own fertility. The ova and sperm that other researchers have discovered are responsible for the gift of life, are also responsible for the gift of magic. Mana expenditure directly consumes our store of the same.**
**The โold wives taleโ of being more fertile when one is most full of mana? It is true! When we are most full of mana we are indeed our most fertile, for they are one in the same.**
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[WP] Without a doubt, you are the strongest supervillain of the modern day. Your powers could end the world, nay, the universe perhaps! Your rival is constantly befuddled at why you stick to bank robberies, vandalism and other petty crimes.
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โYou really want to know? Fine. I suppose we can put this battle on hold for now.โ I say, and with a snap of my fingers, me and my biggest rival are sat in a cozy room with a warm fireplace crackling fresh logs.
โYou want to know why I do the things I do, despite my immense power? Well the answer is actually a lot simpler than you think. Because itโs fun. Sure, I COULD destroy the planet, the solar system, the galaxy and so on. But whereโs the fun in that? Destruction without purpose and without opposition is just plain boring.โ
My rival, Mad Matter, a hero with the power to change matter around him into other non living things, whose name is also a play on the name Mad Hatter, looked at me almost as if he was annoyed. โThen why do you constantly allow yourself to be bested by those much weaker than you. We both know that if you went all out, I wouldnโt stand a snowballs chance in hell.โ
I sighed as he failed to understand. โBecause I genuinely like fighting you and all the other heroes in this city. Especially the lower ranked ones or ones with weird powers. Itโs fun watching them come up with a plan on how to beat me, giving them some challenge, and then seeing their joy when they win. Itโs likeโฆ.watching a child solve a puzzle.โ
Mad Matter seemed to now look more confused than annoyed. โAre youโฆeven trying to be malicious? So far not ONE civilian has been even harmed in one of your crimes. Why call yourself a villain if you have no desire to harm anyone?โ
I gave a soft smile as pictures of young heroes began to appear along the walls. Framed and hung up like they were precious memories. โBecause then I wouldnโt have an opportunity to meet such fun and interesting individuals.โ I looked at the pictures of the heroes whom I let best me. They were so proud of themselves, even the ones who tried to be cool and edgy couldnโt help but smile. โHey Madโฆ.promise me youโll keep this conversation between us, ok?โ
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โWhy do you keep doing this?โ, Dr. Dynamic asked me. I looked straight at him with the same slight smile I've had for so gosh darn it long. โSome dayโฆ Some day I will tell you.โ I answered.
Dr. Dynamic (or Josh as I knew him back when all of this started) and I have had this rivalry for some odd 30 years so far, pretty much ever since he got his powers. He isn't that little kid anymore who stopped one of my many bank robberies back in โ08. Itโs almost hard to imagine that someone this grown, could ever be so small. Back then I did it to get money after being bankrupted by the ongoing financial crisis. Now I'm doing it more for the fun, thrillโฆ and honestlyโฆ just passing time. Time is the only thing I've got too much off.
As I told you, the story for Dynamic started 30 years ago but for me, it started a lot earlier than that. I dont remember much from the early days but I know me and me family had to move because of the changing climate. I think I got to what is now Europe during the early Wรผrm Glacial period. All the millennials kinda float together into just one big blob so its hard to keep track of stuff. Iโm not sure how I'm not ageing or how I haven't died, but I know why and who did it.
During those cold days back when I still had my family I suddenly got sick. Reallyโฆ Reallyโฆ REALLY sick. No idea why he took pity on me, but he did. He was a big burly man with loads of hair both on his head, face, and chest. All of it was dark brown. The hair on his head was braided in a tight criss-cross braid that went all the way to the back and went down to his shoulders. Meanwhile, the beard was very chaotic and almost didn't fit the rest of his head. Late one evening he came walking into our camp with pants that barely went down to his ankles and no shirt which was very surprising given how damn cold it was. He offered me a dealโฆ Either he could stop the pain, but I would still die, or he could fully heal me. The catch you might ask? I would never die. Given that I'm still here, you should already know which option I went with.
Suddenly I slammed into the furthest wall inside the bank vault and with a jolt I was brought back to the now. โLet meโฆ just this timeโฆ Just let me do my thing and I'll take a break for a few months,โ I told Dynamic. โYou could use a break too. I know you do.โ โI can't do that. You know that,โ he told me while still holding the top of my shoulders. With a snap of my fingers, we both suddenly stood on top of the tall Hunt Bank Tower. โI do really enjoy playing with you, but aren't you bored? I've been bored for a long time now.โ I said while looking away from him and instead watched as tens of police cars surrounded the building we were standing on.
A few minutes passed as we stood there with the wind whistling in our ears. โWhyโฆโ Dynamic asked me while looking towards me standing on the edge. โโwhyโ what?โ I responded wonderingly even though I knew exactly where this was going. โI dont get itโฆ You have all these powers. You are so much more powerful than me, but you never end it. You always let me stop you. You never actually try to hurt me. Don't pretend like you donโt know that I understand at least that part.โ he kept going. Looking over my own shoulder I watched him standing there. With one of the most puzzled looks on his face, it had ever taken. โI appreciate having you in my life, even tho you probably find me very annoying at times. Itโs been pretty long since I had someone being in my life this regularly.โ I told him. โDo you really want to know?โ โYesโฆ I really do.โ I wasn't sure I was actually going to tell him. This would change everything. โI am Eternal,โ I told him.
_ _ _
Thanks for reading! I haven't been here for a long time. I think this turned out alright. Not super happy with it, but its good enough for today.
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[WP] You are a super villain and for your latest diabolical scheme, youโve kidnapped the heroโs dog to lure them into a trap. Except it turns out the โheroโ doesnโt care about the dog. You take offense to this.
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For the thousandth time, I looked at the pet crate in the monitor, and the dog huddled in the back of it, scared. And for the thousandth time, I thought to myself, *Damn you, Chaperone, and damn me for falling for it.*
I had kidnapped the pooch by infiltrating Chaperone's penthouse apartment. Except, the dog had refused to come out of its crate; so I'd had to get my assistant, Belladonna, to bring a vehicle around to get the entire cage.
And in the seventeen hours since, I had been getting angrier and angrier at Bluff City's ostensible "hero" for clearly not only not caring about the poor canine, but evidently traumatizing it.
And I would rot in hell before I'd continue to contribute.
"Bella," I finally said, "He's not coming. Has the dog been fed?"
"And watered. And walked. None of them with any enthusiasm and more than a little paralytic shivering."
"Well, this farce is over. Pull the cage out of the trap, and get a few minions who are good with animals to meet Fido."
"Yes, sir..." A pause. "Sir, what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to grill up some doggy burgers and get ready to adopt a new pet. Chappy obviously doesn't care...what does he look like to you? Name-wise?"
My assistant pursed her lips for a moment before saying, "He looks like a Benny to me."
"Benny it is, then," I replied, grinning at her as I took off the skull-faced helmet. "I'm going to go make Benny a couple of delicious burgers. Want to join?"
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What was that awful smell?
Midnight Widowโs jaw dropped as she entered her office. Several of her books were torn to pieces, various chew toys and dog food were scattered around the room, and in the center of her rug was a pile of dry and wet poop with a large piss stain. Midnight nearly gagged at the sight. After a week of being away from the mad doctor and his inane schemes, she hoped she could enjoy some relaxation to get her mind away from her latest assassin job.
She might do it.
She just might kill Dr. Reality.
The researchers ran away from the assassin as Midnight Widow marched through the hallways. She appreciated the doctor from time to time. Sure, she worked for an F-Class villain and his reality-warping inventions barely worked, but he was funny (though she never laughed in his presence). But a line was crossed today, and someone needed to pay.
Pushing the two doors open, Midnight entered a large room where scientists worked on a (most likely doomed) reality machine. The air grew silent as they looked at the fuming villainous. She scanned the area until she saw Dr. Reality writing on a whiteboard. By his feet was a German Shepherd chewing on one of her boots. Since when was the doc a dog person?
โAh, Midnight Widow!โ Dr. Reality beamed when he turned around. As usual, he was oblivious to her annoyance and anger. โI hope you had a great cruise ship vacation. By the way, did you tan?โ
Midnight Widowโs eyes narrowed, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. โDr. Reality,โ she said through gritted teeth, โcare to explain why thereโs a mutt chewing on my boot?โ
The doctor's smile faltered slightly as he glanced at the German Shepherd, still gnawing on the boot. โOh, uh, yes. Thatโs Max. Heโs part of my most diabolical scheme yet to get me into the D-Class level.โ
She blinked. It was very hard to tell when her boss was losing his mind. โDo I even want to know?โ
Without being prompted, Dr. Reality ran to one side of the room and returned to Midnight and Max with a laptop. Her jaw clenched when she saw the man and the dog. โHereโs my plan,โ Dr. Reality began. โIn order for me to get out of F-Class, I have to make a hero suffer. Surprisingly, easier said than done. But then I asked myself, โWho is manโs best friend? Dog!โ Whatโs worse than stealing a heroโs dog? However, I couldnโt steal many dogs. Itโs hard to do when heroes have secret identitiesโฆโ
โStop,โ Midnight interrupted, not wanting to listen to another ramble. She pointed at the grizzled man on the screen. โDo you recognize who that man is?โ
Dr. Reality nodded. โYes, thatโs the Executioner. Not the most heroic hero, but he should count. So I was saying, my plan involved me taking his dog, Executioner falling into my reality trap, and the Villain Association making me a D-Class villain. Itโs strange that thereโs no E-Classโฆโ
โDoes Executioner know you have his dog?โ she whispered, looking nervously at the German Shepherd.
The mad doctor of reality shrugged. โI stole Max six days ago, though Executioner doesnโt look like he doesnโt miss Max. Seriously, what kind of dog owner doesnโt notice their dog is missing? Worse, the Villain Association still says Iโm an F-Classโฆโ
Midnight Widow gripped Dr. Realityโs arm and looked him in the eyes. โGive the man his dog.โ
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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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"I must admit, we are...confused."
I blinked. "About what, exactly?"
Across the screen, Ambassador Kon'ta fidgeted, as though he'd been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. His eyes shifted from left to right with rapid speed, and he wriggled his hands in what seemed to be an attempt to give himself something to do.
All in all, an exceedingly hilarious sight, if not for the fact that he was also the size of a damned mountain.
*Well, good thing he's not on Earth right now.*
While the idea of aliens existing had always been discussed, no one really put much stock into it since it just felt so out there, so insanely abstract that the odds of it actually happening were equivalently zero.
But then, we made contact.
Planet V'gar (or Kepler-22b, as known by us) was apparently home to a rather peaceful race, one that had managed to achieve global unity before setting out across the galaxy.
As far as first meetings went, everything was rather smooth-sailing. We'd managed to set up a line of communications, along with being able to sync our languages through some crazy V'garian tech they had.
Unfortunately, it seemed that the V'garians had found some aggravating news regarding us, and had scheduled an audience.
The damned Pentagon was in an absolute tizzy, everyone was panicking at the possibility of somehow angering the V'gar and were borderline ready to shit themselves.
And somehow, I got picked to run damage control.
"From our understanding, you humans are, pardon the crude language, rather primitive?" Ambassador Kon'ta's voice quivered near the end, a deep, sonorous tone that seemed to echo across the mic.
"Well, yes, that's one way to look at it." I waffled. "Us humans have always been rather, uh, short-sighted."
"Yes, I'm well aware of the wars you've all forced upon yourselves." Kon'ta dismissed. "But what you've all done is just...it's just...!"
"Apologies, but have we done anything to offend you?" I asked.
"Well...I...just look!" Kon'ta hit a button on his console, and soon images upon images appeared across my screen.
Porn.
It was all porn.
Porn of the *V'garians*.
*Oh, I am not ready for this conversation.*
"And what in Sav'ana's Light is this...Rule 34?!"
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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, canโt 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.
โDonโt be afraid,โ 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 wasnโt time to reveal our true forms just yet. That would come tomorrow. And we came to tell Robin of what was to come.
โRobin,โ I said. โBe healed! Look up! Rise!โ
With that Robin opened his eyes and sat up on his bed. He looked at us with wonder.
โWho are you?โ he asked. โWhy have you come.โ
โWe 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 wonโt 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 itโs 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 whoโs testimony is pure and true, which is you. We will be with you. We will keep you sane.โ
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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[WP] Destroying 90% human population on earth, the aliens leave, assuming that society would crumble, and remaining 10% will just all fight for resources and eventually die out. They returned a thousand years later, expecting a cleansed planet, but were met with a nuclear strike from a satellite.
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They could have just waited. Humanity was already on the verge of destroying itself. Earth's climate was on the verge of collapse under the weight of our exploding population. All they did was buy us time. Time to build a new society. One built with sustainability in mind.
A society built, also, on a foundation of technological supremacy. After the great slaughter, those who remained knew the tech gap between us and the outsiders was the main reason for their victory, and they made a solemn vow to the dead that we would never be outpaced again.
They recovered the sole outsider craft the militaries of the old world managed to down and spent decades researching the remains. Replicating the outsiders technology. Surpassing it.
The nuclear launch platform we put it orbit was a vestige of the old world. Meant only to disable the outsider mothership when it returns. To prepare it for boarding. To pave the way for a new slaughter.
Those bastards expected us to die of hunger, but we got hungry for something besides food. We got thirsty for something besides water. We always knew they would return, and when they do, we will slake our thirst on their blood. We will follow their warp trail to their homeworld, and visit upon them the vengeance of humanity.
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Audio log: Date, Febuary 9th 2020, Destroying 90% of the human population on earth, the aliens left, assuming that our society would crumble, and the rest of us would just fight each other, making us go extinct. But, That 10% they didn't destroy was part of Japan, America, and Germany. We have no idea when the aliens will be back, but the first sight of an alien craft entering our planets sphere of influence, we must destroy the ship.
I laughed my ass off as soon as I got confirmation on the destruction of the alien ship. By the way, my name is Void. After I was done dying of laughter, I gave the green light to launch what I like to call "The Hunters". The hunters is a fleet of capital class and standard class ships that are both nuclear and biologically capable. I decided to hitch a ride on the flag ship, nicknamed the God of War. The two flagship escorts are named the twin slayers. The main Assault, or Attack, ships, I call the Fifth fleet. There are going to be support ships arriving about thirty minutes after our initial attack on the alien home world.
Me: "Hahahah, after one thousand years, we will find this alien species home world, and just wipe it off the galactic map."
:Radar manager "Sir, we're getting reports from \[REDACTED\], appears to be more aliens dropping from hyperspace."
Me: "Go ahead and open fire, non-nuclear as a test."
:Combat and Radar manager: "Yes Sir!"
I get confirmations from the radars that the ships have been destroyed, but I realized something was wrong.
Me: "CEASE FIRE, SOMETHINGS WRONG!"
Combat manager: "CEASING!"
Me: "Those smart ass aliens, any reports from \[REDACTED\], don't engage unless they engage first."
Radio: "10-4."
I was about to give the order to start charging the Frameshift-drives when we were hit with something.
Combat manager: "WE'VE BEEN HIT WITH SOMETHING!"
Me: "WELL FIGURE OUT WHERE THE HELL IT CAME FROM OPEN FIRE, USE NUCLEAR WEAPONRY TO MAKE THEIR SURVIVAL CHANCES ZERO!"
Combat manager: "SIR, THOSE MISSILSE WERE CAUSTIC, WE NEED TO START OVERHEATING THE SHIPS."
Thirty seconds go by...
Me: "WELL??? WAITING FOR A KISS AND A COOKIE???? IF YOU NEED TO GO AHEAD AND UN-STABILIZE THE REACTOR!! JUST GET THIS DAMN CAUSTIC SHIT OFF OUR SHIPS!"
We must of lost at least 25% of our entire fleet. We managed to jump to a star-system with an earth-like world with breathable oxygen. We decided to set up a Dyson sphere so we could harvest as much energy as possible for a super-weapon. Only 5% of the energy will be used for construction of several space docks and ship yards for the construction of the ships we lost and then more.
After three years, we increased our fleet size by 300%, not included the ships we did need to replace. We sent out several ASP Explorers, ships designed with a high jump range and high maneuverability to escape any combat situation. We still haven't found the alien home-world. We decided to call the species S-1, species 1. Our super weapon I mentioned is done, but needs to be put into several Heavy cargo ships in order to be transported.
(god school is literally deleting all of my creativity
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[WP] You are not the child of a powerful ruler, neither do you behave in such a way as to command power. You have never been violent, nor even aggressive. Yet, wherever you go, people fear you and treat you like a monarch or an emperor. You never understood why, until today...
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I had never tasted ice cream before.
The soft smooth sweetness atop a crumbling cone. Exciting and refreshing. At 25 thatโs embarrassing, I guess.
Iโm not sure if this new experience was the trigger or just being here in this time and place, but it felt like I took my first real breath. Everything fit and I knew what to do.
Growing up Iโd thought I was a normal girl. Of course everyone knew me, thatโs just how it was. I think I was about six or seven when I started noticing the differences in reactions.
Some people would look at me in something akin to fear while others stared in awe. Not that I understood it back then but it made me feel odd.
I played with other children occasionally, doing silly stuff in the abandoned schools like ghost hunting or drawing on the walls, but I had no real friends. Nobody got too close.
My parents made sure I felt loved though. I never felt anything odd from them.
When I was nearly ten one of my classmates told the class that her brother had taken her ice skating that weekend. I was so jealous.
I remember being so proud telling my mother I was โreadyโ to have a younger brother or sister to look after. That strange gentle smile she gave hurt and confused me but I was mollified when she told me I was a a perfect gift, their little miracle, that they couldnโt ask for another. Oh my ego!
At thirteen I walked past my old school and saw it had been shut down. A bit sad but perfectly natural: it hadnโt been very busy even this close to the city. A few days later I realised why and how foolish Iโd been not to notice. I checked the few remaining playparks, searched forums and social media, looked everywhere and yet I couldnโt find anyone younger than me.
I confronted my parents and they said it was true, and it just wasnโt talked about. There were no more children born after me. They told me they couldnโt talk about it, that no one could.
My father held me as I cried in bitterness and confusion. He hummed a tune I didnโt recognise as he stroked my hair.
Of course I tried to find out why. Teachers changed the subject and the internet was no help. My anonymous questions were left unanswered, and I discovered a complete blank for the ten months before I was born.
No posts, no archived news, not even weather reports. Gradually I accepted it.
High school was lonely but college was where I truly felt isolated. I could see it clearly now, how few students for such large rooms. Anyone I met was either extremely awkward or stiflingly helpful, but only around me. By now I was used to it.
Everywhere I go people recognise me.
They stop what theyโre doing, clear a path for me and wait. Iโd swear some of them are holding their breath.
The man at the ice cream cart had practically pushed the cone into my hand before rushing off with eyes averted. And now I know what they were waiting for.
Now is the time.
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Elie was an orphan. Her father was killed by a serial killer and wore his skin as it invade their house and killed her mother. Elie was left with her older brother John in a group home where they can both live together. Growing up in a group home was never easy.
Though they both have one another, they still need to get along with their guardians and two more other orphans. John adjusted well, heโs even friends with Randy, one of the orphans and Stella considered him as an older brother. But Elie, sheโs a loner.
She tried hanging out with them, joined them on movie nights. But sheโs just so odd. At first, it seems sheโs the one who avoid people, but when she reached her 13th birthday, people began to avoid her. There is something with her that people find off putting. Her presence become intimidating. Suddenly, no one wants to meet her eyes. Everyone bow their heads when she passes by.
Even the animals around her were acting very weird. Cats and dogs would stop and bend their front legs as if bowing. Ants would even walk out of her way. Bees would sometimes follow her. And birds would leave flowers on her window sill.
โYouโre here.โ John said as he found Elie was alone in the roof, sitting next to her room window, sketching, with only the light post illuminating her.
โYou were looking for me?โ Elie asked.
โI never seen you the whole day. Are you okay?โ
โIโm fine. I just donโt feel like going out.โ
โWhyโs that? The day was wonderful earlier. You never even tried to go out.โ
โHave you ever felt being treated differently?โ
โWhat do you mean?โ
โPeople are avoiding me. Animals are acting really weird around me. Look at all these flowers, birds leaves them here every morning.โ
โThey do? They must have like you that much.โ
โMaybe.โ
โGetโs go downstairs, mom cooked lasagna for dinner.โ
The two came downstairs when they heard a knock on the door. John opened the door and thereโs a man standing the door wearing a fedora hat.
โI finally found you!โ The man spoke as he reached the edge of his hat. His fingers shined for a second.
โYou! Youโre the one who killed our mother.โ John froze in fear, seeing the familiar man who wore their fatherโs skin, brutally killed their mother, and tortured him before disappearing with no trace.
โStill remember me, little John?โ The man has very pale face and wide smile, flashing its serrated teeth.
He entered the house and walked right passed through John.
โWho was it, John?โ Their foster mom, Sandy called from the other room. John and Elie is too shock to move or speak. โJohn, who is it?โ Sandy went out to check but horror is what she saw.
โJohn, Elie, run!โ She shouted.
โYou are not going anywhere, the stranger said as he gripped on Johnโs arm with its scalpel tip like fingers, sinking on his skin.
Randy and Stella heard Sandy shouted and ran towards them. Their foster father Bob is not yet home. The three doesnโt know whatโs happening but they are too scared to move, with a monster in their living room.
โUnhand my brother.โ Elie whispered.
โWhat is it young lady?โ The monster asked.
โUnhand my brother!โ Elieโs voice is echoed, her eyes glowed in golden yellow. The stranger froze in trance and let go of Johnโs arm.
Their consciousness were trapped in a pocket dimension, floating in endless void.
โWhy you keep coming back? What do you need?โ Elia asked.
โYour mother, she took everything from me! Iโve been in this mortal universe for thousands of years, taking all I want when your mother showed up and took all my powers!!โ
โMy mother stopped you from terrorizing humans and so you took revenge? You already killed my parents! What do you even need from us?โ
โYou! You possesses her powers! The night I killed you parents, you banished me from this realm! You donโt remember that do you? I wouldnโt let a powerful being like you live, earth is mine!โ
โSo thatโs what happened that night? Then you chose the wrong enemy. Fall!โ Elie commanded.
They returned to their consciousness, the monster drop on the floor and unable to move. โWhat have you done?โ The monster asked.
โNzvhione of the celestial realm, I command you to vanish.โ Elie spoke. The stranger dissolved into ashes.
A lady suddenly came in by the front door. โJohn, Elie. Are you both alright?โ The lady in turquoise asked.
โAunt. Yes, we are. Elieโฆโ John answered.
The lady saw Sandy and the two orphans staring down, frozen in shock. She waved her hands and the three suddenly forgotten everything that happened that night.
โSandy, Iโll be taking John and Elie with me for now. Will that be okay?โ The lady in turquoise asked. Sandy agreed and the three left that night.
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jtfkn96
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jtfd593
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[WP] One day, the heads of all religions in the world recieve a telepathic message. "We are the Divine Protection Service, You have been removed from the care of your god for reasons of neglect. You will be entrusted to the care of a foster god."
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Reactions were....mixed.
True believers were outraged. Power hungry cult leaders were worried. Less stringent leaders adopted a wait-and-see approach.
But no matter what they did, the day finally came when the new Foster God arrived in Flame and Light and Glory and all knew exactly, and minute and fine detail, exactly how far short they came of purity and enlightenment.
"THIS RACE HAS BEEN WITHOUT A FIRM AND GUIDING HAND FOR TOO LONG. THIS CHANGES NOW."
Enforcers swept down and everyone had a 'Guardian Angel'. Every street had patrols. Every action watched and judged immediately.
Technically, it was a Golden Age. No one went hungry or cold. Sickness didn't exist anymore.
The leaders of humanity were honest and competent. Everyone worked their best for the betterment of humanity and the the stewardship of the planet.
After 10 years, not a single word of complaint was made about Foster God. No one left would dare. They had seen what happened to those who complained and strictly taught their children (of which there was many due to the need to replace population numbers) about the glories of Foster God and that they should be always vocal in their praise in all their waking days.
But deep in the thoughts of many smiling faces and warm greetings, many still wished for the times when they could debate the existence of Gods and ignorance of the hard truth that what is worse than a silent and uncaring and possibly non-existent God, is a God that there is no doubt at all of their existence and constant intervention to make things 'Perfect'.
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Faith is an emotion on its own. To embark on a journey of faith, true faith is a right on its own.
Some people have recently lost that right. They called themselves the champions, the flag bearers of their religion but instead they forgot the one thing that made faith the most powerful force in the world, humanity.
We have been watching Earth since the dawn of man. We watched them learning to stand on their legs. We watched them when they found the wonderful thing that was fire. We also watched as they created the factions of God. It didn't matter. God was a multi-headed entity. Every religion saw just one face. Some religions saw more than one face and that was agreeable too.
But we also watched when humanity turned on each other. We watched when they used the name of God as an excuse for their sins. We watched when they started considering themselves God. We watched and watched and watched.
We watched when one day God couldn't take it anymore. We watched him see the world he built with so much love being destroyed by the ones he created, the ones he loved. We watched him leave.
And we knew that we won't be able to watch anymore.
*
*Send a message in every language possible*
We, the members of the Divine Protection Services, have found the mass cases of neglect and thereby you are being removed from the custody of God. You will shortly receive a message about your Foster God.
Yours sincerely,
Themara
Divine Protection Services.
*
We saw the confused faces of the religious heads. They clearly thought that it was some sort of hallucination. But they didn't dismiss it. Instead all of them claimed to be god's vessel. The one God trusts the most.
We laugh at their naivete and their sense of grandeur. They just lost the protection of the parent who loved them unconditionally, the parent who was so saddened by the state of his children that he couldn't take it anymore.
We just hope humanity has prepared themselves for their Foster God.
*
We watched as the Foster God arrived at Earth waiting for a warm welcome. Even a tepid one would have worked instead of the tepid silence he got.
They considered him a trickster. A mockery. But it still hasn't settled that he would be their God for the foreseeable future.
They don't know who they have pissed off.
*
Should we do something? The question was uttered daily in the halls of Divine Protection Services. But no one answered. We weren't afraid. We were intrigued.
We have always thought that God loved his creations unconditionally, even when they sought to destroy. But the new one, the new one reminded everyone that there are consequences to their actions.
He slowly but surely straightened out the creases on the cloth of humanity. He never chose a policy of silent treatment or having a chance to learn from their countless mistakes.
He adopted a more hands-on approach. Humanity will have faith if they don't know what to have faith in.
And the changes were already visible. The tides have turned towards the better.
Everyone at the Divine Protection Services knew that the Foster God was what Earth needed. But they also knew that God would return.
And isn't that the most condemning thought any person who had faith could have?
***
[You can find more of my stories at r/iknowthisischeesy]
Also I apologise in advance. I'm literally typing this half asleep.
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j5473hq
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j53hbu9
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[WP] You are the only S-Class (god-like) mutant at a school of super powered youngsters. Only the head master knows, and you try like hell to keep it a secret. But one day, that all changed...
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People think that rewinding time and altering fate are World-tier powers. Atomic manipulation. And they would be right.
I am The Medic. And I'm much, *much* more powerful than them. And the reason why is really simple. For I have mastery over the afterlife and mortality. Styx, Heaven, Valhalla, Hel, whatever you wish to call it.
Oh, it was much more difficult to master than the typical Healer-class, who have to become doctors almost by trade, using their skills as trauma support or emergency surgeons.
I was content to run support, having a near-miraculous power of recovery for an EMT specialist. But that changed when Immortus attacked. He and his cultists assaulted every hospital, in a co-ordinated attack on the healers. But his most critical mistake was murdering my best friend and my husband In the opening strike.
/. /. /. /. /. /
I put on Alex's black bomber jacket and left our once-shared apartment on 5th and Main. The sounds and screams of the injured I set aside, as the other imported Healers could deal with that; because this time, I had bigger fish to fry today.
I walked through the wreckage of the city, feeling it's denizens as they loved, lived and died a little all the time. I wore it as a funeral shroud, as I approached where the Immortal cult had made their base. It was hard to miss, with the drapery of a bad video game group, a black hand on a plain flag.
I walked up to the entrance of the building that had been claimed, and I was darkly amused by the level of security on display - 20 armed guards, well equipped like a private military contractor. A thought flickered for a second, about who was funding these people; but in my grief, I no longer cared.
A necromantic-seeming vortex ripped away their life force as the first guard went to pat me down, severing their blood vessel and neuronal connections and watching, passive, until they all dropped. I searched the bodies for a key card, and swiped it to enter the elevator.
They had taken everything that truly mattered to me. I would ruin them in return.
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Mimic
I'm not looking for a complex life, but that's really hard when life wants to make you complex. Mutants are rare in this society. Only about 1 in every 100,000 has some kind of abnormality about them. Some developed flight, super strength, telekinesis, etc. Simple things you know? My odds were slim, but I was born with a mutation. But it's complex... Messy.
If I could put it simply I can shapeshift. But it goes a little farther. I can copy the genetic makeup of any living thing I touch. I can create, replicate, copy, and manipulate the cells in my body to pretty much do whatever I need them to do. There are other shape shifters out there but they're powers only extend to shifting from one form to another, my shifting is more fluid.
But it didn't start out this way. My body would randomly shift and turn into grotesque looking forms. I tried to hide it from my parents but the day I almost devoured the family dog because we were having a territorial dispute was the day I couldn't risk their safety. So I left.
When the headmaster found me, he knew instantly what I could do. I never even told him, he just knew. like two apex predators we could sense each other and what the other was capable of. I don't know exactly what the headmaster can do, but I know that if we ever fought the city, or at the very least the surrounding area would not survive.
The first words he ever spoke to me were,"How do you feel?" A simple question with a not so simple answer. "Like I have the power of life itself in the palm of my hand. I can be whatever and whoever I want. I have the instincts of every creature on earth. I could probably cure every known disease or create a poise that kills the whole earth. It all a huge weight to bear. But I don't want any of it, I just want to live the way everyone else does. But that seems like an impossibility and I don't know what to do." The headmaster didn't say anything as I continued to talk about my problems. Problems that no one in the world has. When I was finished he simply said. "Then let me help you carry this burden, as long as it is yours.
Over the next year I worked with the headmaster to hone my mutation and push it's limits. The mutation that was on my official paperwork was simple shape shifting. We had decided that a chameleon was the only thing I could shift into, due to my fondness for reptiles and slight jealousy that they could fade into the background. As time passed I could shift different parts of my body into different forms. Growing new appendages was hard at first, painful even, but the headmaster helped me broaden my horizons and think outside the box by removing the pain receptors in that part of my body, then growing the new limb was painless and the pain receptors could be grown in after. It even got to the point where I could create cells that could harmlessly enter a human body via skin contact, have those cells create copies and then retrieve them back to my own body and duplicate the copies endlessly. Thus I could shift into anything and anyone and even use their powers if they also had a mutation.
Progress was slow but I eventually became a living embodiment of what genetics were really capable of. But this isn't the life I wanted. I wanted simple, so I pretended I was just a simple guy with a simple mutation. Until came the day when I couldn't pretend any more.
The Kaiju that attacked San Francisco was big. No one knew where it had come from, only that it rose from the ocean one day and descended upon the city like an avalanche descends on a helpless climber. The military was quick to respond but they were no match for the behemoth. It tore through buildings, bridges and anything that stood in it's way. Nothing could stand up to this monster, even with every mutant working together, it wouldn't be enough. There was nothing that anyone could do. We'll... Almost nothing.
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lkizixe
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lkixiir
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[WP]You were born in the Medieval Age, but at 15, a time anomaly brought you to the modern era, where a scientist adopted you. Now, 11 years later, theyโve found a way to send you back and asked for your opinion, but your answer is clear: "Hell no."
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"Have you any idea just how bad an idea that would be?
Ok, so lets put aside my own personal objections to living in the dark ages for a moment because trust me that is going to take much longer. Have you heard of the Black Death? The Spanish Flu? Fucking COVID? Yes. You have heard of those things. Do you remember just how ill I became when I fell through that time portal in the first place? I was in the ICU for months.
I read my history, I know just how badly the indigenous populations of America were hit when they were colonised in the 1600s. Over 90% fatalities. Now imagine that but magnified by three different pandemics happening simultaniously across the entirety of the world. I mean I guess Australia might survive due to their isolation but everybody else? Yeah good luck.
So no, even if I did want to give up all that I built here I couldn't in good conciousness unleash what the peoples of that time would be well within their rights to call the third horseman of the apocalypse upon them.
Now that my more practical objections have been voiced, I'd like to remind you of my gender, and the expectations of women living in that time in a short 5 hour presentation I've named "I DON'T WANT TO DIE IN CHILDBIRTH".
Save your questions to the end.
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โHell no. I do not want to go back,โ Thomas said.
Proust took a step backwards. And steadied himself against the door frame. His wide grin lost to a grimace. โBut why?โ
โBecause I donโt.โ
Proust Finklemyer was a famous scientist. Famous because he invented time travel eleven years ago. Kind of. It certainly wasnโt unintentional. Proust had been trying to understand time and tried many a way to create a method of transporting oneself through it, but he had never succeeded. Until one day, a wormhole generated during one of his experiments. It was wild and uncontrolled and when it ended a young man lay on the ground scared out of his mind. That was Thomas.
โYou always talked so fondly of your time Tom. Now is your chance to go back to the moment you leftโฆ or we can move it forward some time soโฆโ
โDr Finklemyer. Please. I said no.โ The rhythmic tapping of fingers against a plastic keyboard stopped as Thomas leant back in his chair looking at the ceiling.
Proust did he best to hide his wince. He hadnโt been Dr Finklemyer in years. He could still remember the moment he laid eyes on the child. Well, teenager. Lost and alone. Though there was a slight understanding of language most modern slang was simply too foreign and much of the modern world made no sense to Thomas. Proust had to choose: send him somewhere random, give him to social services, or adopt him (through slightly discreet methods).
So Proust adopted Thomas. It was only meant to be for six months maybe a year. But time is fickle. And tampering was resisted. So the process took longer. Now Proust almost couldnโt imagine a day without Thomas. But he had to send him home. It was the correct thing to do.
โI donโt understand Tom.โ Proust walked over and sat on the bed.
โBecause that life is gone. It was a nice dream to go back but how can I now? Iโve seen too much. I know too much. Iโll be an outcast,โ Thomas almost shouted.
Proust shifted back. He knew the anger wasnโt aimed directly at him, but he still felt the passing burn.
โMy family. I miss them everyday. I miss that they wonโt ever see this. I miss that they wouldnโt understand why their child would disappear for 10 years only to return with tales of a magical land of metal and fireless lamps. Perhaps I would be accepted. Perhaps I would be laughed at. It is of no consequence that I would then have to live back then. In the conditions I have been made acutely aware of, that were not exactly hospitable.โ
โWell what if we bring your familyโฆโ
โNo. Dad. Please. No. Donโt make this harder,โ Thomas cut him off. โI am a different person now. In a different family. In a different time. We donโt need to mix them up anymore than they are now.โ
Although Proust was still slightly taken aback by his sonโs wishes, they were to be respected. โAlright,โ he half choked out of his throat. โWell then, letโs say we take a journey to somewhere else back in time. Together. As a family.โ Proust looked over to Thomas.
Thomas swivelled in his chair. A lone tear rolled down his cheek. He nodded.
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j7arv5a
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j7ah5w1
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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 light glances of the coin as I watch.
This? *This* is the reason I trained so hard?
Every hero slays a dragon. Enormous, fire-breathing, scaly. Evil grin, yellow eyes.
But *this?* This is a joke. What's the glory in killing a dragon three inches long, for the love of the gods! The only things in danger from this dragon are flies!
And as for the treasure . . .
Well. A single coin might go towards my supper. It certainly won't let me live a life of ease and luxury.
The little thing scurries away from me, it tiny wings beating frantically. It will never take off carrying that coin.
Really, this dragon is almost . . . cute. Paper thin wings, purple and green, and a slim green back, with little spikes of a paler green set at intervals. Almost completely defenceless. How has it survived so long? Perhaps it was two small to bother with? Does it have hidden defences?
Either way, the thought of killing it makes me uncomfortable. I shouldn't mind, but murdering such a small and unprotected creature for the sake of a single copper doesn't rest with me easily. It's a dragon, for crying out loud. I shouldn't give two pins.
I raise my sword, ridiculously over-sized for such a task, and step forward. The dragon, hearing my movements, looks back and lets out a squeak.
Lowering my weapon, I stop.
Killing this creature won't make any difference. It harms no one, probably doesn't even eat flies. To murder it would be wrong.
Hesitating, I look at it again. It continues to try to escape, the noise ringing through the silence of the empty house. I came here to slay a fearsome beast, and instead found this.
So I kneel down and pick up the dragon. It panicks, squeaking desperately and struggling to escape. As I manage to gather it into my hands, it sinks its teeth into my finger. Cursing, I drop it.
Wasting no time, the dragon clutches its coin and makes off towards the distant doorway.
I make grab for it again, this time holding its mouth closed carefully. For such a small animal it sure can bite.
Carefully holding my new companion, I make my way back towards entrance to the house.
My noble steed - a donkey - will be waiting along with my faithful hound - a jack russel terrier, small and noisy - and the pig. I don't even know what the pig is. Once destined to be a dinner, now the companion of failed hero. My motely companions.
Why do I always seem to end up with the oddballs?
Why do I let them stay?
What is the dog eating!? He's delicate, he'll make himself sick!!!
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Sir Antoine passed his hand up his helmet to push the face-guard up on its hinge, his winkled eyes pursing at his quarry. He started to bend his good knee towards the ground and had to readjust his stance a few times before he was able to fully rest on the earth, causing his armor to shuffle and jingle. His hand passed down and stroked his graying whiskers before it rested on his other knee, still raised. The summoning jewel, tied to a ribbon and hung off his wrist, clattered against his greaves.
"This-- this is it?" he asked, canting his head upward towards the mythical, wish granting being he had made contract with to produce for him this foe. He swirled his lance around by the handle, making its tip draw a tight circle in the air. "This lil bugger'd be dispatched by a... by a soup ladle!"
"This... is it." the jin said with a subdued gesture towards the glowering green whelp. While the knight studied the small beast he continued. "You have devoted your entire being to eradicating the majestic and, much to your credit, you are *ex-ceptional* at it. This is one of the last remaining living dragons. I told you I could not create life, only find it. And this is what was found."
Sir Antoine slowly extended his weapon-less hand towards the creature. It was defiant, at first, clasping its treasure in both claws, his open mouth raised towards the encroaching glove. But as the shadow of the finger began to dominate its vision the dragon moved first to hold the coin like a shield in front its body before disappearing beneath it completely, cowering as if to make itself invisible underneath the copper. Antoine could feel its body squish as he gently made contact with the currency. It squealed in protest. Another poke, another whine. He could snuff out its life with a mere flex of his finger.
Instead, he moved to pinch two fingers around the coin. He lifted it out of the dirt and was surprised to see the whelp was clinging to it, tenacity back in its blood as it tried to wrench its hoard free from the giant digits, snapping, biting and clawing at them as best it could manage.
"Whut... whut about making it bigger? making it grow up?" the knight asked, flipping the coin right side up. The dragon perched on top of it, shivering but ready to defend himself from all directions.
"That is as big as he will get. He is not full grown but fate has proven more advantageous to the ones too small for you and your ilk's notice. His mother was smaller than a hound and was still slain. He would only sire smaller still if he were to live past today. But I cannot undo what has been done, *Sir*." the genie retorted.
The Hero of Alabaster Abby had never been much for words, preferring action and stern looks, but even so he felt the urge to find something to say in his defense and the sting of being unable to utter more than a string of incomplete words and syllables.
"I will remind you, ***Sir*** Antoine August, son of Lenore and Edgar, Liberatore of Paarthurnax, Headmaster of Dragon's Keep. ... '*Scourge*' in dragon's tongue. ... that we have an a**gree**ment." the jin said, his hand gesturing again, producing the parchment they had only just recently signed. He didn't need it to remember the terms, but it added to his air of authority as he spoke. His voice growing more incensed. "'On the imitate date, at the listed time I, the great Kazaam, have been tasked to provide the party - that's you - (1) Living Dragon, along with all items in the creature's hoard, in perpetuity, in order for which you to *slay*.' If you are attempting to circumvent or void this contract then I will take whatever measures necessary in order to assure my release from this **confinement**!"
A life time of deeds swirled in Antoine's head. Some good. Some bad. Some he had new reflection on after setting down the small green dragon and his copper companion amongst the reeds. He thought about dropping the two gold pieces he had been saving in front the tiny creature, but the jin had been increasing in size as he ranted, popping off with magical prowess and readying to fight. A shadow now loomed over the knight just as his had loomed large on the small wyvern. He leaned on his lance and pushed his hand in to his thigh in order to will his body to stand. Antoine turned and addressed the genie by lowering his face guard and muttering "So be it."
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j8nqise
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j8myzzl
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[WP] You are kidnapped by the villain regularly, but youโre starting to look forward to it. You know they wonโt hurt you, and are simply being dramatic. It also doesnโt help that you are the only person they ever kidnap. This time, the hero doesnโt bother trying to save you.
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The first time, accommodations were pretty sparse. A chair and some rope. I was scared, of course, but Red Dragon didn't yell at me to keep quiet or specifically threaten me.
"Don't take this personally," I remember him saying. "You were just in the wrong place at the right time. Once I have what I need, you'll be free to go."
He seemed proud, melodramatic even. Something about how his shoulders squared beneath his cape or the sideways glances he turned to me as he made sure I wasn't escaping spoke to me of a need for attention. From whom, I wasn't sure.
His "Don't try to talk me out of it" quip pretty much *begged* me to. So I, poor conversationalist that I was, tried. Was I keeping him talking, or vice versa? Not that it was hard to get him to talk about himself. So, I asked him questions. About life, about politics, about where he got the fancy outfit. The first two topics were met with frustrated monologues, but at least I could empathize with him, and, to be honest, I spent far too much time trying to "fix" him, because I can't stop myself from problem solving. It's a personal vice.
It was the third topic that garnered his attention. I have something of an artist's eye, so I could opine on the use of color and shape, the stitching and fabric texture, and he definitely had a sense of flair. I even asked for a closer look, which he was happy to provide. He was everything a classic villain should be, I'd say. Brazen, stylish, a touch manic ...ripped. I was jealous.
In the middle of providing a few light critiques of his outfit, one of Snipe Angel's gimmick arrows shattered a window and filled his warehouse lair with sleeping gas. I woke up at the police station and got a ride home.
The second time, I was back in the chair. We both played our parts. Me, the worried captive, and Red Dragon, the proud villain awaiting his nemesis. And some industrial fans. It seems he didn't want his conflict interrupted by another gimmick, but it was also a nice upgrade in the summer heat.
So we talked. "Got any podcasts you'd recommend?" He tried, and failed, to play it straight. I'd never thought a villain could get so excited about upcoming advancements in green energy. I quipped about water recycling, and he looked oddly at me. I was forced to confess that I needed to use the restroom.
I saw some brief surprise before his expression stiffened. "I might be a villain, but I'm magnanimous, not cruel. You can go. This time." I waved to Snipe Angel on my way back to work.
About a week later, the third kidnapping happened. No ropes, just a chain bolted to the floor. Instead of a stiff, wooden chair, there was a comfortable recliner. Behind it, a small room with a notch in the door to accommodate the chain.
"I won't tolerate any interruption this time," Red Dragon bellowed. "So, if you need to, use the private room." The mad lad installed a bathroom.
We talked again. Snipe Angel crashed through a window. For an archer, she was a very entertaining martial artist, too. Pink and white lace fluttered against the deep red and gold of Red Dragon's outfit. It was like an art installation all to myself.
Red Dragon was routed, and he fled dramatically. Snipe Angel set me free and checked on me. "You're not hurt? Is he treating you well?" After some assurances, she left me to return to work, and I went about my day. I really shouldn't have been so well adjusted to getting kidnapped.
Fourth time, it happened during my lunch break. The goons bought me lunch, and we chatted before they led me to the austentacious Dragonwagon. That part I didn't resist so much, but the valet had to threaten me for my keys so he could drive my car back to work. There was some new furniture that time. And a treadmill, to my chagrin. My fault, probably, as I said prior I was having trouble with my weight. Snipe Angel didn't break in through the windows this time, since Red Dragon had replaced them with stained glass. For ambiance, he said.
The fifth happened right as my work day started. My boss told me I was excused for the day and not to worry about my leave hours. I knew exactly why, since I *may* have mentioned all the kidnappings were draining my PTO. So, I spent the day with Red Dragon. I used the new kitchen to make gyoza from scratch, had a wonderful hour of power yoga, and help Red Dragon design some characters for a comic book he was planning. Snipe Angel knocked on the door. "Are you okay in there, Mr. Hale?" she asked without a shred of concern. After I said yes, I could almost hear her pout. "I'll be on the roof if you need me."
After that, the "kidnappings" were more frequent. Sometimes daily, but after work, to be considerate. Red Dragon became something of a personal trainer, and I became a confidant. Snipe Angel stopped showing up. Red Dragon started training me, and occasionally, I'd give the goons a hard time, for funsies. The game usually ended when the biggest lad, we called him Beretta, slugged me in the breadbasket. It took me months to stop buckling from that.
Which brings me to today. I bought the goons a spa day, double checked my rope, and slipped into my Stone Lion costume.
Today, I'm kidnapping Red Dragon.
It's Valentine's Day, after all.
|
Well here we go again. I'm being followedโฆand no one is coming to 'save' me this time.
I almost didn't notice the shadow behind me even though I've been obsessively looking for it for nearly 2 weeks now. Sometimes I think it's finally time for my 'surprise' vacation only to realize it's just wishful thinking playing tricks on my eyes. I wonder where it'll be this time. Bali? Mexico? An isolated cabin in the Rocky Mountains? I hope so.
Whenever he comes to whisk me away I always end up in some fantastic place I've never been before. The last time was 2 weeks ago and I finally got the courage to say something to the Masked Woman. She always interrupts me just as I'm about to make a move. I only just got him to tell me his name when she burst through the window of that romantic skyrise apartment in New York City.
As she set me down safely on the street below, I finally asked her what her problem was. She tried to play it off with me, but I can see people for what they really are. She was jealous.
"Excuse me? Shouldn't you be asking HIM that? This is the 4th time I've had to rescue you from him and all I get is attitude. I saw the way you glared at me, maybe you should say thank you or I'll end up leaving you with that weirdo next time." She says, arms crossed and eyes seething with annoyance. From her body language it's clear as day to me that she wants to be the one he takes away. I may have only taken half a semester of psychology 101, but I still use it every day. She has to feel scorned. Having to barge in on us all the time like some sort of crazy stalker. I'd almost pity her if I wasn't so disgusted.
"Don't bother." I told her. I know how she thinks after all this time. She hardly even looks at him, she simply whisked me away from my future husband and takes off. The first time it happened she knew to apologize to me for the inconvenience. But she just kept doing it. Over and over again. She wants him and she can't help herself.
"Look, I get why you like him. He's smart, determined, cute, shy and has a flair for the dramatic. Even more than that he likes to take things slow. He's a good man, but you can't have him. He. Chose. Me." I put lots of emphasis on those last three words. With girls like this, you can't leave anything open to interpretation and you have to talk really slow so they understand.
She looked at me like I shot her. Right through the heart โ I hope. She couldn't say anything in retort. She looked like she was going to throw up, her hand over her mouth like she was trying to keep whatever it was from coming out, a tear rolled down her cheek. Quickly she turned around and said, "I understand, have a good day" and flew off into the sky veering far away from the tower. I left shortly after. I'm sure the moment was lost for him as well, but I cleared the way for him. The next time he would take me with him, nothing could get me to leave him.
All of our effort is finally reaching its climax. I cross the threshold into my apartment, not bothering to lock the door behind me or take my shoes off. It wouldn't have mattered if I did, he's more cunning and nimble than a fox, I wouldn't hear him come in. I wouldn't notice that he injected me with his specially crafted drug to incapacitate me โ and I didn't. I only had time to smile when I felt myself losing consciousness. "I missed you '' I whispered before finally blacking out.
When I awoke, I hardly wanted to take the time to appreciate my surroundings. My head was buzzing from the drug still, but my love was stronger. The smell of the ocean only confirmed that he's crazy about me, I'd only been once when I was a little girl. He must have known somehow that I would want it to be here more than anywhere else. Our first date.
My hands and feet weren't tied this time. I stood up and turned around, looking for any sign of his presence. A noise in the kitchen sent shivers up my spine. Ice. In a glass. I can't stop myself, I rush into the kitchen to formally introduce myself; even though he knows me better than anyone.
We meet eyes just as he finishes pouring his glass of orange juice topped with a healthy splash of vodka.
He finally notices me from the corner of his eye and almost jumps out of his skin from excitement. "Umm..how did you wake up so fast..? Must be because you're building an even stronger tolerance to it. Well, if you would kindly move back to the chair so that I can tie you up. I won't let her get away so easily this time.."
He sets his glass down, and moves towards me like he's going to grab me by the shoulders in embrace. I practically jump into his arms, I can hardly wait to tell him the good news.
"Oh, her? Don't worry about her, Billy. She won't be bothering us again, I told her how we feel about each other, she knows I'm who you really want." The words gush out of me, I tell him everything that I love about him. From how he hardly acknowledged me all of the times he had me in his clutches because he was remaining vigilant against the Masked Woman. The way he tied me up super tight and would put a bag over my head to muffle the sounds I was making. How he told me his name. Yeah, just everything about him.
He stared at me, clearly overwhelmed with how much I adore him. I laid it on pretty thick. He deserves the best.
"Youโฆhave got to be kidding me."
He must not be used to this kind of love. I'll make sure he never goes without it.
"Listen, I think you have the wrong idea here. I'm not trying to spend time with you, I've been trying to get the Masked Woman to give me a chance. I โ kind of have a huge crush on her. You just happen to have nearly the same commute as me, I followed you home one day. I used to write her. Like. All the time. Then she changed her P.O. box. So I had to change my approach. Make her come to me, perse." He just sat there. Confounded. No, dumbfounded. He's starting to see me for what I truly am.
"Now that she's out of the way, we can move on with our lives together. You don't have to worry about me leaving you, or ignoring you. You make me look forward to every visit. Why would you keep kidnapping me if I wasn't special?" Let's see him answer that.
He sat with that for a minute. He must be flustered. "You literally made no effort into avoiding it. I thought it was too easy to pass up, why risk finding someone new when I can go with a sure thing? You didn't even make the effort to lock your doorโฆ"
He walked past me. All the way to the way to the front door. He clicks the lock to the left, then to the right. "Do this from now on, and save us both the trouble. Now โ" he clicks the lock to the left again and opens the door, "Please leave. I have to think."
I take my rightful place by his side. "I'll be thinking only of you, my Billy Goat." I scratch under his chin, and he promptly shoves me out the door and shuts it. *Click*
Oh. This manโฆhe wants me to make the effort. Next time, I'll pick the place.
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loi0yjl
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lohwwr9
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[WP] You pretend to be a small-time villain. At most, you annoy the local supers but your crimes never hurt anyone. To you it's all good fun. Things change when a truly sadistic super villain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.
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โMwahahaha! Who wants more honey?!โ I continued tossing jars of honey at the customers in the candy store, who were desperately trying to escape the sticky, gooey mess. I shook a yellow-striped fist at the obese kid scrambling towards his mobility scooter. โHoney is high in nutrients and is much healthier than sugar, fatsos!โ
โHoney-Bโฆโ
I turned around, coming face to face with a heroine in a tight spandex suit, emphasizing her legs, which were both slender yet deceivingly muscular. She sighed and shook her head. โListen. I donโt feel like doing this today, thereโs too much going on right now.โ
Placing my a fist on my hips, I flashed my teeth (painted yellow and black). โWell, well, well. Gazel. Iโm guessing my nemesis Amphibaman wonโt be joining us today?โ
โHeโs dead, B.โ
โHe- uh, what?โ The grin slipped from my face as my heart dropped.
โThereโs a super killer going around. Look, I know youโre having fun with your shenanigans, but itโs not a game anymore. Go home, lay low.โ
I lowered the jar of honey I was holding. โHowโฆ many?โ I managed to choke out.
โAmphibaman went down this morning. Cheetspeed is fighting him right now while Iโm in charge of getting the supers to safety, now, if youโd just-โ
**Crash**
The ceiling collapsed right behind Gazel, and a large figure appeared. Standing 8 feet tall, his burly hands was wrapped around the neck of a man in a spotted cat getup. Sniffing, the giant tossed Cheetspeed, who bounced lifelessly on the floor.
**โSo you run, female hero. But you canโt hide from my nose.โ** he growled, blood dripping from his fangs, which were attached to a lion-like face complete with a bushy mane. Gazel reacted almost immediately, launching herself into the air and delivering a spinning back kick, which was promptly caught by the monster.
**โShow some respect, female. The king of the beasts is here.โ** He smirked.
โOi!โ I yelled, throwing my jar of honey right at the beast. It broke and covered him in a thick syrup. โYouโll have to get through me!โ The lion blinked, then roared in laughter. He let go of Gazel, who landed on her feet and leapt in front of me.
โRun, you idiot!โ She grimaced through gritted teeth.
โNo, no, I got this.โ For the first time in forever, I grabbed a fistful of spilt honey from the floor and licked it, and immediately I could feel its effects. My fingers grew into claws and fangs of my own appeared. As I transformed, the lion monster narrowed his eyes and began to square up with me. My muscles grew and burst out of my colorful costume, revealing the fur underneath, which were bristling with anger.
As my foe prepared to attack, I turned to Gazel, whose eyes were wide in surprise.
โBy the way, the โBโ stands for Badger.โ
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Part 1 of 2
The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of.
Pascal wrote as much. You're not certain what it was about, certainly something about God and faith. Not that it matters, the sentence stuck with you, and you agree. One shouldn't always look for reasoning, the absence of it explains so many things.
Streets built to accommodate traffic as if each driver was a droplet under the yoke of fluid mechanics; industrial zones separated from living areas to keep it all ordained and neat; motorways connecting farms to the concrete where people ate. It looks rational and sensible, and that is all it is. A pretense at common sense, just enough to keep the illusion alive; That mankind is, on a global and individual scale, dictated by science and enlightened.
As if.
You certainly believed so too, once. It's an architect's prerogative to think in right angles and load-bearing walls. Ah, the folly of youth. If only the old would recognize this folly and let go of it, but no, it appears you are cursed like Cassandra before you, to see and tell the truth and never to be believed. Then again, it's easier living in an illusion, they cannot be blamed.
"Any idea?" a voice asks behind you as you contemplate the body, warm blood seeps from a slit throat. There is a menacing tinge in the voice. They fear you, they know what you've done in the past, they know you are causing problems on the regular still. They also prefer the devil they know.
"I say we have a contender on our hands," you reply.
The victim was killed at home, a nice apartment up in a skyscraper with a fully-equipped kitchen open on a tasteful living-room and massive windows looking over the city. Hard to breach, some would say. Easy place to get isolated and far from help a killer would reply.
You recognize the method. Slick, efficient, driven.
Like you, once.
Young and brash, you were armored in the certainty of knowledge, wielding efficiency and reason as weapons. If only you were in charge, then things could finally go forward. Few agreed, it was a human right to choose for themselves, so they said, mistakes were part of growth. Mistakes were done aplenty over centuries, and still the world was on the brink of collapse. Choice is what brought us there, it was up to you to correct this mistake.
You never were a grand and powerful warrior. In truth, nobody is. Humans merely need to shape their hopes and fears in the plastic of heroes and villains. The stories are always grand and noble, unlike the truth, and these great figures often forgot that. You didn't. When they came for an honest duel, you trapped them in a burning building. When they came to save your hostages, they discovered they didn't want to be saved.
And when they tried to handle things like adults and pick you apart in a public debate, they discovered how you, unlike them, had a vision. And as blind humanity is to their own heart, they still wished for reason to rule them, and your vision had enough gold and right angles to make you beloved.
It isn't a fight under a thunderstorm that brought you to power, but a vision spoken on cameras. Heroes and villains, the concepts are outdated.
You worked hard. The world a mess to be remade, reorganized. The wealthy and inefficient saw their funds put to good use without their opinion. Clogged streets, like waterways, were reorganized to handle each droplet. The cities, like humans, perfected to get the world forward. No choice meant going up. And up it went. From the brink, each system, be they financial, human, or ecological, recovered and thrived.
Gorgeous, it was gorgeous. These moments when you could earnestly think *it's going to be alright*.
You're lost in the memory as you hound the killer. They are easy to track, they are like a younger you. There are a few misses in your hunt, murders you predicted not happening, for the killer had yet to perfect the method. You admire their will, their hope, their childish belief. Such a beautiful illusion. Age has ripped this illusion from you.
The killer may not reach that age. She stands before you, knife gleaming in the dark of an unlit alleyway. The sort of path one with good education wouldn't dare taking, and one with bad education has seen the danger of and avoids. The rain pours, the thunder roars, whatever happens, you and her are well and truly alone. No scream will be heard, no unlucky passerby will watch.
"I have a vision," you hear her say, it is the only justification she needs to lunge for your throat.
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l0joylp
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l0jk3ko
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[WP] Pluto is actually an ice prison, harbouring one of the most dangerous people in our part of the universe. You are on an exploratory mission and accidentally unleash it upon landing.
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"So... How did you end up here?"
'I don't know, man! I was on the way to 65 RDE and appeared here. This isn't the city, is it?'
"Nope, pretty far from any cities. Let me check your inputs..."
'How about getting me down from here first?'
"Ah, right. You'll be easy pickings for the flyers up in that tree. Hang on."
'Ow! My motherb-!'
"Anyway, seems your steering had a bug which caused an overflow. Look here."
'65... million BCE?! But no one's allowed here besides the Chronotech. So youโre-'
"Yep. And glad as I am with finally having some company, we need to get you back to the bunker and out of here ASAP.โ
โO-ok. Letโs get going, then.โ
โฆ
โWhatโs that? Wargh! Monsters!โ
โShut up! Donโt look at them. Just ignore them and keep moving.โ
โBut those flashing hornsโฆโ
โTriceratops. Youโve seen the bones, yeah? Apparently their horns are bioluminescent. Distracts the T-Rexes when itโs dark.โ
โT-Rexes?โ
โYeah. Hear that high-pitch sound? Remember: Bats donโt exist yet.โ
โOh, shi- can it see us?โ
โTechnically yeah, but itโs probably focused on the Trike, so I suggest we stop gawping and get the hell out of here.โ
โฆ
โThose lights in the skyโฆ are they stars?โ
โYeah. Beautiful, arenโt they? I spent the first week just staring at them every night.โ
โIโve only seen them in holos. Wow.โ
โBy the way, youโre going to RDE? Isnโt thatโฆโ
โYep. Iโm going terminal.โ
โIโm sorry. For what itโs worth, I donโt have long either.โ
โAnd whyโs that? You donโt seem bugged.โ
โWell, my term here ends with a bang, you can say. See that big one there? Sort of like a satellite but pulsing?โ
โWait. Are we atโฆโ
โYep. Welcome to the end of this world. By my estimate, just a few hours until impact. There, all done.โ
โYARGH!โ **CRASH**
โWait, what are you doing?! You just doomed yourself!โ
โWell, I wasnโt looking forward to getting wiped and repurposed anyway.โ
โHow is this any better?!โ
โWell, I figured you could use a friend at the end. And as destructive that space rock is, itโs quite pretty in the sky. I could go out with a view like that.โ
โYeah, itโs really beautiful, isnโt it? Iโll go get some drinks.โ
Edit: Grammar
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Pouring up another coffee, I took a quick glance at the screens before me. They hadnโt changed in the nearly ten years I had manned this bunker. It was a bit of an uneventful ending to be honest, especially compared to all the others.
A shift in the Ktharval system had been full of life in the emergency bunker. Ten years there felt like that of a day on this god forsaken planet. Machines breaking down, rebels and smugglers thieving the repair shop, and planetary occupation from the Snazzleths. It was never a dull moment, and that was the thing I liked most about it.
On this planet the humans mastered time travel, and then chose not to use it. This bunker was placed here out of pure caution for something that will likely never happen. Something about a prisoner of the void. They had told me when I started my shift here that some day, there would be a ripple that would cause so much pressure my eardrums may rupture. A button in the bunker was to be used if it every happened, and since then I have had nothing but radio silence.
I took a sip of the coffee and laid back in my chair for a moment. The room was filled with all of my personal belongings and items of my hobbies. Nothing more than some entertainment like movies and what humans call Holo-games, but still anything you might need as a home-sitter of sorts.
"Where did I leave that controller..." I mumbled to myself, sitting up once again in my chair to search around the floor in the amassed junk pile. Nothing more than empty boxes and broken electronics, but I wasn't fond of throwing anything away.
I sighed as I pulled a control device from the floor and clicked the power button, turning on the hologram machine.
โPleaseโฆ helpโฆโ I heard as nothing but a whisper in my ear, yet somehow feeling like the most blood curdling scream in existence.
Stopping in place, I held my breath and slowly looked around. I didn't get a warning anyone had entered the bunker. There wasn't any presence that I was able to detect otherwise either.
"Wh-whoโs there? Where are you?โ I sternly said, standing to take a closer look around the area. There was still nothing visibly out of place.
The air began to thicken, and the bunker began to shake as if something from beneath the thick floor was trying to break its way into the bunker. The humans had told me that the floor beneath me was surrounded by a near impenetrable substance that was made of the thickest alloys in the galaxy, and even after analysis by the Galactic Time Vault Co. had shown that the material was far above standards.
โEverywhereโฆ Needโฆ Helpโฆ Inโฆโ
The whole bunkers continued to shake, with anything not bolted down being flung from its resting place onto the floor. Pictures shattered and the all the lights went out as the power failed. Gaining my balance, I reached for my chest to grab at the panic button the humans had given me with the warning of the ripple. It was nowhere to be found, and in the pitch black it would take me some time before I was able to see anything.
As my eyes adjusted to the absence of light, I caught a glimpse of the panic button being absorbed by a liquid seeping up from the ground. The black tar like substance was bubbling as it began to pool all over the floor, dissolving whatever it touched. Panic overcame me, and I closed my eyes.
โPLEASE, HELP US IN! EVERYWHERE, WE NEED TO BE EVERYWHERE!โ A shrill screech sounded, my ears bursting from the pressure within my head. I opened my eyes to see a sludge before me begin to take shape into a grotesque monstrosity with bubbling eyes that popped only to quickly reform themselves and sharply pointed teeth all over its humanoid form. The feet of the creature were linked to the puddle and there seemed to be some kind of mist being created by every popped bubbling eye on it's body.
I gasped for air as the being began to slide over the floor in the puddle it had created, and my eyes closed as I fell to my chest with my arms outstretched.
"WELCOME! WE ARE INFINITE!"
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jf0di9e
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jeythuh
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[WP] As a child, you dreamed of helping a wounded faerie. As an adult, they returned to repay the favour.
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โThis sucks.โ I muttered as I stood at the pantry, eyeing the empty shelves by the light of my window. What can you cook with half a can of cornstarch and a quarter of a jar of peanut butter? I puzzled this as I walked back to the fridge and opened it to find the same things I found the last 3 times. A bit of milk in a jug, two weeks expired, an empty egg carton, and the wilted remains of what once mightโve been a salad. All I could think to do was sigh. If sleep were sustenance, Iโd have a feast tonight.
I flopped down on my bed and kicked off my shoes, then curled into a ball and closed my eyes in a feeble attempt to block out the sound of my stomach growling. โJust breatheโ, I thought to myself, โConcentrate on your heart beating, and you wonโt feel your stomach as much.โ I drew in slow, methodical breaths as I drifted off, lacking the energy to even pull a blanket over myself.
โHey!โ Shouted a small, high pitched voice right beside my head. I awoke with a start, placing a hand over my ringing ear as I sat up and looked over to see a tiny, glowing little winged girl no bigger than a Polly Pocket fluttering about a foot in front of me. โW-whatโฆโ I trailed off as I stared at her, until a question sprang to my mind. โHoly shit, did I die!?โ I exclaimed. The fae laughed in reply, โnot yet, but you look about halfway there! Come on, come on, come on! I have a lot planned for you!โ
She flew around my room, leaving a trail of sparkling dust behind her, and effortlessly passed through my bedroom door. I followed with wavering steps, and slowly opened the door to find a field.
The scent of flowers filled my nose as I stepped through. The sun was bright in the sky, and the air filled with birds singing and squirrels and rabbits running and hopping around. Butterflies gently glided from flower to flower on a cool breeze. I walked along a stone path, following the faerie with trees towering over us.
Apples, pears, peaches, and plums so ripe they looked ready to burst where they hung. Past them, I could hear the soft babbling of a creek. Lining our path were sprawling blackberry bushes that looked as delicious as the fruit above us. โHave some!โ The fae offered, โThe animals wonโt mind. We can stay for as long as you need.โ
โReally? Thank you.โ I said with a watering mouth as I reached up to twist a peach from a nearby branch. The fuzzy skin tickled my hands as I turned it about to look it over. No bugs, no bruises, no wrinklesโฆ no mould. My fingers left the smallest dents with a squeeze. It seemed okay. I looked to the fae once more, and she smiled and sat on up on a branch as I took my first biteโฆ
It was sweeter than candy, and gone in minutes.
The plums were equally sweet and soft, with a much thinner, glossy skin, and deeper flavor than any plum Iโd had before. The blackberries popped between my teeth as I ate them, savoring each one as the brighter flavors melded with the plum. It was beautiful. Before long,
โYou sure were hungry!โ The fae said cheerfully, โyou sure youโve had enough? I guess it doesnโt really matter.โ
โWhat?โ I asked as she took to the air once again. She made her way to my level before replying, โCome on! Iโll show you!โ Then, she flew ahead on the trail once again. And again, I followed.
A short while later, our path was blocked by a stream. The fae promptly turned and flew against the way of its current. As we walked, it got wider, flowing over larger stones, and branching off to form a multitude of smaller brooks that sang together as we made our way. It looked strangely familiar.
Soon after, we came to a weeping willow tree. The river babbled away as the fae landed on my shoulder and placed her small hand on my neck. โDo you remember this place?โ She asked, her once chipper voice now solemn, and low. I racked my brain, but couldnโt remember. After a short silence, she began.
โYou were playing here, a long, long time ago. You were a lot smaller back then, but you wanted to be taller. So, you climbed up and up, and found me stuck in that little cave,โ she pointed to a small hole in the tree, the remnant of a long-gone woodpecker. โThat big mean bird pecked through my wing, and I was stuck in there until you came along. You lowered a vine to me, and I was able to climb out. Then, your parents called you, and I didnโt get to say thanks. It took me a long while to find you.โ
The fae took to the air once more, and flew up to the woodpecker hole. From it, she pulled a small, golden bell. She smiled and placed it in my hand.
โIf youโre ever hungry, or lonely, or sadโฆ if you ever need me, just ring this bell and Iโll find you. Wherever you are.โ
โWellโฆ wow.. Th-thank youโฆ I donโt know what to sayโฆโ
โSay weโll see each other again?โ
โYesโฆ of courseโฆโ
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\[Rhapsody: Hopes and Dreams\]
"This is such bullsh-" Craig's whining was interrupted by a sudden, chipper voice.
"Hi!" Craig spun his office chair to face the door. He hadn't heard it open, and it was still closed. But, a teenage girl with long, straight white hair stood in his office. She wore a crisp white suit with a familiar red scissor logo that only added fuel to his current growing negativity.
"This is still my office until 5 o'clock," he replied without hiding his bitterness. He didn't even bother standing up, and in fact made it a point to slouch lower.
"I'm not here for your tiny office," she shook her head with a light giggle. "I'm Rhapsody," she said. Her eyes glowed with Red energy. "Don't you remember me?"
"Iโve never met you or anyone from Sharp Development until today," he shook his head. โNever even heard of your company until I was part of it,โ he said. โFor all of a day.โ
โDoes this help?โ Rhapsody asked. At her question, the teenage girl vanished. She was replaced by a red wisp that flew around his head a couple of times. โI guess that was a LONG time ago; youโre looking kind of old already,โ she giggled as she circled around him; then, she flew back to the door and took a full teenage shape again.
โHeyโฆ,โ that warm summer day sprouted in his memory like a magic beanstalk and he could vividly picture it again. Over the years, he had his doubts and the memory faded; but, he had undeniable proof now. It had happened. He was there. He saw a fairy. โThat was only 10 years ago!โ He felt playful again, somehow. His mood brightened once he knew magic was real after all. He sat up more attentive in his chair. Rhapsody giggled.
โSo, you do remember!โ she said.
โYeah!โ Craig nodded. But, the full scope of the memory hadnโt been registered until that moment. โOhh.. yeahโฆ youโre okay!โ he said. As he reached his early teens, Craig often took to exploring the forest. There was something about the unknown possibilities behind every tree that called to him. There was adventure in every unexplored clearing; and, he found it once.
โYeah,โ Rhapsody nodded. โThanks to a handful of kind souls that looked out for me over the years,โ she smirked at him with a knowing playfulness.
โWait, youโreโฆ working for Sharp Development??โ he asked. โWhy is a fairy working? Why are you .. here?โ He smiled. It was hard not to get his hopes up. She was a fairy, and they had a history together; no matter how brief it might have been. Her presence could not have been coincidence, so there was only one other reason for her being there. Maybe the impeccable white blazer was a disguise so she could help him keep his job.
โTechnically, Iโm only half-fairy,โ Rhapsody said. โI donโt have to work,โ she shrugged. โBut, itโs my momโs company, and Iโm enjoying the job. Days like today, especially,โ she grinned.
โYour mom is Dana Sharp?โ Craig asked. It was hard not to already hate the woman completely. She bought his employers and dismantled the company overnight; he learned it was his last day as soon as he arrived that morning. But, as far as coincidences went, he was feeling pretty lucky at the moment. He was sure the bossโ daughter was about to do him a major favor.
โThatโs the one,โ she nodded.
โSo..,โ Craig leaned forward in his chair. โ..whatโs so special about days like today?โ he asked with his own playful smile.
โEven half-fairies always repay their debts,โ she said. โIโve been keeping an eye on you for a little while nowโฆ,โ she said. โYou havenโt been doing greatโฆ,โ she shook her head.
โYeah, no kidding!โ Craig replied. He had to clench his fist to keep his thoughts in check. He almost asked her why she didnโt show up sooner. But, she was here now; and comparatively, he was definitely at his lowest.
โI know,โ she nodded. โBut, then, my mom bought your Earth,โ she said.
โYour mom bought this companyโฆ,โ he said. Rhapsody shook her head.
โMy mom only deals in Earths, not individual companies. Youโll see the rest of the changes soon. But, I had to come see you as soon as I heard. I finally have a chance to repay you!โ
โWaitโฆ,โ Craig shook his head. The comment about a fairy repaying their debts rubbed him wrong the first time, but there was so much else going on. He didnโt consider the fairy to owe him anything; it was part of the reason the memory vanished so readily. โ...Iโm confused. You donโt owe me anythingโฆ,โ he said.
โOf course I do!โ she said. โMaybe your memoryโs starting to go bad. Let me set the scene,โ she became a red wisp again, then landed on the desk in front of him. She was now a tiny, 4-inch pixie laying on his desk. Her wings were solid, glassy white instead of the usual translucent wings insects had. She wore a silky red gown and she wiggled uncomfortably on his desk.
โHelp, Iโm stuck in a spider web,โ she said. Her voice sounded like a veteran actor bored with rehearsal.
โYeah.. I rememberโฆ,โ Craig nodded. โ..you still donโt owe-โ
โThen you came along!โ Rhapsody spoke over him. โBig, strong, teenage you; that spider web wouldโve been nothing to youโฆ,โ she said.
โIโm sorry!โ Craig replied. It was all he could do. Both, now and the first time he met her. โIโd never seen a fairy before! I didnโt know what to do!โ
โTrying something is usually a good start,โ Rhapsody nodded.
โLook,โ Craig shook his head. โToday has been a pretty crappy day for me. We both know you donโt owe me anything because I didnโt do anything. So, why are you here?โ he asked.
โI told you. To repay my debts!โ Rhapsody said with enthusiasm.
โI didnโt give you anything!โ Craig finally got to his feet and raised his voice.
โSure you did. First, a big smileโฆ,โ she grinned from ear to ear. She moved closer to him and took his hand and patted it in a comforting, patronizing way. She looked up to him and he found himself staring into nothing but solid red energy. โThen, some encouragement. I hope youโll be okay,โ she said. โIโll dream big for you, so get better!โ
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! Iโm responding to prompts every day. This is story #1904 in a row. (Story #094 in year six.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/wtglls/tokuhigh_alternet_class/).
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j3kpq4x
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[WP] A medic saving a wounded soldier notices a supernatural being coming to take their soul. Out of options the medic punches it on the face, shocking the being.
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For a medic who is a frail little girl, you are a bit shocked when you realize you have managed to punch what appeared to be a shadowy well-suited man with a tophat and a trenchcoat. The man seemed as surprised as you are, slowly walking backwards with his left hand on his cheek, like he was either offended or confused.
Finally, the entity spoke with a haunting yet melodic tone, "H-how, a mere little one, could have the courage and will to punch an entity like me?"
With his question, you decided to speak out with a soft meek tone, "I don't know...are you the grim reaper?"
"Y-yes, my child. Despite your efforts, the soldier's wounds outweigh your will," the entity answered in a sorrowful state, "I'm afraid I have to..."
But you angrily persist in his claims, "No, I am not going to lose him! Just give me another chance, please!"
The entity sighed and said, "Alright, I'm giving you at least one hour. If the soldier's health does not improve, I think you know what I should do."
You do everything in your strength and weakness to tend to the soldier's wound as adequately as possible. You can tell the soldier was more afraid than you are, seeing his eyes more watery as time marched on. And still, you worked hard to save the soldier's life as the figure looked on from the dark.
One hour had passed, and the bandages you put on had safely secured the wounds. You looked at the soldier's face and saw his eyes had closed, but you knew he was alive and sleepy. Because when you looked back at the shadowy figure, he was gone from the darkness.
\--
The End
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Mortar had impacted close by. We were first on scene. Triage at a mass casualty incident is all about logistics. Sort the nonviable (black) from viable (red, yellow, green).
Size up my scene and I go through my internal checklist. No time to let emotions cloud judgement. I have algorithms. I have skills. We have a fucking situation on our hands. A growing pool of bright red and frothy blood flows and meanders through the dirt into a dusty street. A crumpled heap of clothing that hold together flesh in a vaguely humanoid shape as its source. The other heaps donโt bleed. Not a priority.
Heโs unresponsive, cant even elicit an open eye from pain stimulus. No one around to help me stabilize C spine so thatโll have to wait. Not a priority. The crimson spurts are lessening in intensity before my eyes, I have seconds until heโs in irreversible shock. With a practiced motion I place the first tourniquet two inches above what I think is his largest wound, though they all blend together at some point.
Warโฆ war never changes is the only thing I can think as I work mindlessly. Ha, how much I loved that line when I was home playing my games. A grim joke. That was then, this is now. Though each trauma is different, my response never changes. The atrocities they commit to each other never change. Leadership sending young men to die for corpora- huh?
My internal monologue comes to a screeching halt as something changes. Before me lies a corpse, my efforts in vain. But he still had a chance. He was bad, but Iโve saved worse. FUCK. FUCK FUCK ITโS ALL FUCKING FUCKED. I wordlessly scream and rail and thrash against my helplessness. Traumatic arrest has one of the lowest rates of ROSC but any chance is worth it. This boy should live.
As I scream into a radio for backup I know is 3 and a half minutes too late, his eyes open. They stare straight ahead, unseeing. Yet I feel his gaze penetrating me; heโs looking through me. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as though electrified.
A barrier that I canโt see separates us now. I canโt do compressions. My hands stop an inch away. What the fuck is happening? I stand up and notice a shadow stretching in front of me that shouldnโt be there. My shadow shouldnโt be wavering and flickering. Itโs late and Iโm tired. Been awake for too long and my mind is playing tricks.
โNo tricks. Just destiny. Rest now, Sterfri99. Heโs mine.โ
I hear this voice without listening. Voice isnโt the right word though. Itโs a feeling. A thought. Knowledge. I know what I didnโt hear and it canโt be possible. Feeling the blood drain from my face I turn. My boots feel made of cement as I slowly come face to face with the ghoul.
Mottled and gray, its barely corporeal form displays swaths of green sickly decomposition. A rotten hand reaches out and pushes me aside as it lowers itself and unhinges its jaw.
No-
A size 13 steel-toed boot cracks the ghoul in the jaw hard enough to stand it up. Eyes widen in an emotion itโs never felt before. Jab. Reverse. 8 years of Goju Ryu karate give my strikes thunderous force. Reeling from the olโ one-two, it starts
โSterfri9-โ
All the air whooshes out of what remains of its lungs as ribs and cartilage splinter on my knee. With a berserker roar channeling years of frustration, resentment, and bottled emotions I drop it to the ground and the rubber soles impact what used to be an intact skull.
A weak breath is taken.
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kfe6t30
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kfdy3c0
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[WP] Humans are often abducted as exotic pets for aliens. One day, your owner enters with a book and starts trying to speak your language.
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I felt the intrusion in my mind immediately
The tender tickle before the violent intrusion into my brain
I got ready to defend myself from my captor's attempt to "communicate" again.
I counted 200 meals since my last capture. Before my watch ran out of battery power I was being regularly fed at 8 Earth hour intervals and contact would happen every sixteen, usually after a meal
The first time had been horrifying, seeing visions and sights no human mind was made to process. Then, it tried to take memories from me.
I had tried to repel the mental contact with many horrible images of war, personal pain, anguish, boredom, gibberish. Nothing worked except for music, and specific music.
It loved Justin Bieber, but couldn't stand Rick Astley.
I was getting ready the first stanza of Never Gonna Give You Up, to give as a memory, when instead I received an image of a human petting a dog.
They must have processed what they took from me the last session.
I saw my face on the dog's body and the captor's strange distorted alien head on the human.
Huh. I always thought that strange bud between it's 6 legs was it's genitals...
I wanted to show the alien I was i peer, so I showed two humans conversing
The alien sent me a lightbulb image... Then left me alone.
I sat in my permabright cell, alone.
During the next feeding, I was surprised to see the slot of my cell door staying open even after my food was delivered.
The alien sent me a picture of itself and me speaking like humans do.
Finally! No more mental communication! I was excited at the progress.
From the slot an eerie voice called out. "ยกHolรก!"
I cursed my luck. I took French in highschool
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The Tower is a habitat created for human beings. It holds many floors of varying ecosystems due to human nature's trait of incredible adaptability, the species have created different forms of cultures and civilizations. To this species, the tower was their entire world, and anything beyond the walls was a being known as the Master. They are an enormous alien being who came to Earth one day and collected multiple individuals from our home planet. For what purpose, that remains uncertain but they maintained the ecosystem and climates within the Tower with great meticulous care.
This being we refer to as our Master, whom we have not seen its true appearance. Each floor has its colony recording each of its everyday lives through "confession rituals", typing down our lives now and then. Some who are more devout would write down their lives routinely, from weekly, monthly, or even daily. The colonies themselves are named by the Master, and each of them has an individual appointed by the Master to essentially be their envoy in the colony, occasionally acting as a figure of authority in certain circumstances. Their duties involve organizing information collected from the confessionals within the terminal. Each record, is filed accordingly, with date, importance, etc. It all depends on how the envoys organized how the records are organized, and if the Master is satisfied with their work, they would be rewarded accordingly.
Formerly known as Lough DF10 from the Erdhiz Colony, I was designated by the master to be the succeeding envoy under the new name O'sh. Today, I would meet the avatar of the Master to undergo the rites and training required to become the Envoy of my colony. This fills me with anticipation but also nervousness, knowing that I bear the responsibility for my colony and the Master and should I fail, the consequences are not only mine to bear but the colony as a whole.
Nevertheless, I could only dare hope that I would be able to reach the Master's expectations of me. This is the final log as Lough DF10 as I would undergo training with the Master and would not be required to participate in the confessional rituals nor I would be using this account for any future confessions if I may be required or desire to. The master has assigned me a new personal account that establishes my identity as the 42nd Envoy of the colony and that I would use this account to hold any records both personal and work-related.
The Avatar of the Master has been announced to arrive shortly at the designated meeting place, so this is where I end this log.
Farewell Lough DF10.
\------------------------------------------------
As the young man rests his finger on the holographic keyboard, the log has been saved and uploaded into the terminal amongst the many others. O'sh would organize these records, and a week's worth, after his secluded training with the Master. Shutting down the computer, the young man quickly starts doing some last-minute preparations before meeting the Master.
Gazing upon the mirror, O'sh combed his black-brown, braided hair into a neat bun, revealing a set of hazel eyes resting upon a round face and tanned skin. Smoothing out the creases on his clothes, he takes an attempt to smile. O'sh regretted it immediately as his face twisted into a cringe, deciding to keep a neutral expression to maintain his dignity. Soon, the young man walked out of his room and made his way through the door outside.
1/?
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k8rgha4
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jrzhwmd
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[WP] "I should've been a hero instead of following my family's legacy" a villain sighed to himself while rescuing civillians trapped under the rubbles of destroyed buildings caused by the reckless and arrogant hero who's still telling the fakest story to his Twitch fans while striking poses
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"I couldn't deal with the shame. Every holiday, nothing but "Oh Xavier, why do you embarrass yourself like those gaudy 'heroes'?" "Why don't you follow the family business? We do what must be done."
Well Ma, I'm sorry I want to have some money. A fucking *life.* Yeah, I get it. Without us, the heroes wouldn't have anything to do. I've heard it a million times.
Except.. these heroes cause their own problems. I sure as shit didn't cause the earthquake, or the tornado, or the tsunami, or the hurricane, or the blizzard, or the heat wave, or the whatever-the-fuck they're posting about on Twitter.
No, my family is in waste management. We take care of the *waste.* Sure, that might include the occasional "hero" or two. But trust me, they weren't helping anybody but themselves. 1985, earthquake in Mexico City. You know who showed up? Not fucking Superman. Not enough cameras. No, only the people that don't care about glitz and glamor were on the ground floor, pulling out people that were only in the wrong place at the wrong time.
They don't get us. My family. They don't understand us. We aren't causing havoc and mayhem to hurt some random schmuck. We're making a statement. Hoping that the remaining few individuals with two brain cells to rub together will listen. Ever wonder why every "supervillain" is *magically* targeting the rich? *Magically* targeting the corrupt politicians, the dirty mayors and greasy-handed senators? No? Buckle up, kid, you're going to realize why my family is in waste management... and why Superman *isn't.* I'm not one of the good guys. I'm certainly not one of the "bad guys".
I'm trying to live my fucking life before this whole planet collapses. Now.. smile for the camera, Mr. President. My followers have some questions for you..."
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After taking the 17:45 isekai express into this world, I'd been bringing the hurt like bus-kun himself. But I never let my methods get out, because frankly I didn't want the competition hurting themselves or others.
For example I once read a reddit story where someone claimed to use a stick of dynamite to blow a few pounds of flammable something or other into dust deep in a cave. At the mouth of the cave was a naked flame which lit the dust, and with the cave acting as a crude megaphone, the resulting explosion could be heard for miles. Now, reddit was a cesspool of lies, bots and creative writing for fake internet points, but hey grain silo explosions are a real thing, so I adapted the tale for my own use.
I threw a bag full of sawdust into the cave, waited five seconds for the embedded gust spell to trigger and then threw in a flame ball with another two second timer. It was no grain silo explosion, but it was medieval equivalent of a flash bang. After loud *whomp* I attempted a roll into the cave like the complete gravy seal wannabe that I am only to once again remember that you can't body roll with a three foot sword strapped to your waist. Oh yeah, this isn't actually Dark Souls. I needed to remember that.
I stood up, dusted myself off and looked around with a cocksure "I meant to do that" look on my face. Fortunately no one saw what'd happened, so I didn't have to try and sell it. We'd have both been embarrassed by the attempt. Yeah, anyway. In the center of the cave and covered by milky white wings curled over its head and a tail around its feet was a shaking little cat loaf of a dragon. It was keening for its mother and possibly crying; hard to tell with wings over its face. Dammit! It's official. *I'm a monster.* :sigh:
I walked over to the dragon loaf and sat down next to it. "You know, where I come from, we use loud sounds and bright lights as a tribute to the birth of our country. Even though the country is many hundreds of years old now, we still celebrate when it came to be every year."
The dragon peeked one eye out from under a wing and quavered "Re.. Really?". I reached down and gently scratched the dragon over one of its eye ridges and replied "Oh yes! We love to commemorate the birth of new things. Heck even babies get a tiny little fire on top of a cake.". As the dragon dragon had slowly uncovered itself the scratches progressed from full on head skritchies to a vigorous exfoliation of the triangular ridges down his back.
The dragon asked "So that... that was a celebration? A *tribute* to my incredibly handsome, newly hatched and yet utterly elegant self?". Hypothesis: Dragons are talking cats with wings. My left hand scratched the head again, concentrating on the jawline and ears while my right hand gave the little loaf a few light scratches where his tail met his back, which he immediately arched. Hypothesis promoted to Theory: Dragons are talking cats with wings.
"Yup, totally. Tribute. 100%. In fact if you'll indulge a second kind of tribute, you may ride my shoulders, little one. I'll carry you out of here and we'll go see about that cake. How does that sound?"
"Can it be gold cake?"
"How about a cake with gold-colored frosting? That work?"
He didn't say anything, but he did poke several holes in my leather jerkin as he scrambled up onto my shoulders. Theory promoted to Fact: Dragons are talking cats with some sharp little claws. "So, how long before you get too big to ride on my shoulders, my friend?". "Oh, no more than two or three hundred years, tops.". Mental note: I need to invest in another layer or two of clothing.
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j94051d
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j93vu9r
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[WP] God, demigod, guardian--Every time mankind finds you, during a different age, they give you a title representative of your otherworldly power. You aren't getting weaker, yet your title gets diluted each time until finally, a group of humans think you're just a homeless person who needs help.
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I've been searching, waiting, trying to get my fishing hook back for 500 years. I've tracked it to the Museo di Palazzo Grimani in Venice, but I cannot enter for now. I have other matters to attend to, like this security guard.
"I am not homeless you damned mortal, I am a god!"
"Miss, if you would please leave before I have to escort you out with force."
"I will turn you into an insect where you stand, get out of my way."
"Hey lady," A boy no older than 16 dares to yell, " You're ruining the vibe of this place."
He comes over to me and whispers, "Nuasiela, I've got it. Play along."
"You vile boy, fine, I'll leave willingly."
A crowd has formed around us as I walk out the door, just as a small storm is coming my way. I snap and the clouds dissipate with no one batting an eye. Gods it's hard to get mortals to look up.
The "boy" comes up to me with a small grin on his face, "you like my disguise?"
"I don't like anything about you, Marsmoke."
"Well then, we'll just have to wait 500 more, won't we."
"That won't be necessary." I say as I snatch it out of his hand. Finally, my coveted fishhook, the very thing I needed.
I walk into the streets of Venice without another word, becoming one with the early morning mist.
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*A whim. It was just a whim at first.*
***
Flitting across the cosmos from one rock to the next, all was still.
A swirly purple one. A little green one. A sandy red one. Alighting on a mostly blue one with wavy whites, she dangled her feet off the edge and into the void.
Cheek in palm, she bore a frown. Boredom reigned.
"Hmm?"
A brow was raised in moderate surprise. There was a microscopic peculiarity.
So she gave it a nudge. Just a nudge.
Space rippled as if it were the surface of a pond.
She was gone. Off to find the next rock.
***
...
..
.
A swirly purple one.
A little green one.
A sandy red one.
A mostly blue one with a tinge of green and wavy whites.
Little things had erected shapes and pillars from the earth.
***
Upon a pasture, a young girl laid limp. Her life pooled under her, dying the grass, already wet with rain. Huddled over her, embracing her tight, was a man clothed in primitive garbs. A father.
The air swelled, and a brow lifted in base curiosity.
Maroon climbed its way up the father's tunic. Tears were shed, unceasing in their sorrow.
A radiant palm reached out, drawing his attention, its touch gracing his daughter's figure.
He directed his gaze upwards and beheld naught but vestiges of fading ripples.
Warmth returned to the one within his arms, as did the sun.
"Goddess..."
The blades were dyed no longer, verdant in all their glory. Tears were shed, unceasing in their joy, unceasing in their piety.
Two souls thus set across the land, devoted to spreading word of a creatorโof an almighty savior.
***
*Then came amusement at the status those creatures afforded her.*
***
...
..
.
A man of destiny stood before his vassals, crowned and clad in regalia. A sea of subjects heeded his words.
It was here that he set aflame the machine of war, pointing the tips of their spears towards friend and foe.
Space billowed, and from behind him manifested her radiant form.
Eyes wide, he spoke thus, "Behold, our kingdom's guardian has blessed us with triumph!"
A frown.
Resounding roars shattered the sky, smothering the warps in space left in her absence.
Unceasing was the king's ambition.
***
*In but a blink, however, her status diminished just as her amusement did.*
***
...
..
.
Towers of metal and glass protruded forth, motion and noise abound.
She walked among them.
"Did you see her? That wretch caked in dirt?" Laughter erupted among a passing pack of them.
That dirt was a souvenir from a brief visit to another one.
A coin was tossed her way, accompanied shortly after by some spittle.
They were unceasing only in their apathy and their derision.
Ripples spread just as they had before, but they now encompassed it all.
One moment, the mostly blue rock was there, with its swathes of green and stagnant grays in lieu of wavy whites. In the next, a vacuum took its place, the only indication anything had ever existed there waning waves.
But she was gone. Off to find another rockโperhaps another one worthy of a whim.
***
*It should come as no surprise, then, that just as it all began with a whim, so too did it end with one.*
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ld87tdf
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ld86tje
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[WP] in a post-apocalyptic world, you realize you have just been bitten by a zombie. The gravity of your situation begins to sink in when the insatiable hunger suddenly becomes overwhelmingโฆ
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I remember a grassy hill with cold breezes. Running up it with other kids as one took a fall. We were scared and panicking for his bruises at the time but now it seems a distant blessing.
I remember years, decades of scavenging. Brutal days of hunger and getting the shits every few months for drinking the wrong water. Infected hands and a cut up arm from a stupid fall. Stoic delusions of being one of few left, a founder who has to father another generation and perserve what little humanity had to offer. Did I? Blurry faces of children I can hardly recall.
Too painful to remember being bitten. Too much for the senses, it felt like a million implosions splaying out over all my consciousness. I remember a simple mispreperation becore- no, it *hurts*.
I can't piece together my mind. I feel still like I'm laying on my side, always choking on spit or blood while my stomach heaves and bloats. I see pavement, where I lay after the bite- faded yellow markers of paint from those better days when painting roads was a way to live.
Am I still lying there? Or am I one of them now, shambling about with nothing better but sensory tricks and twitches. I can't stop dying, all I see is the pavement and a horizon I can't see folding in.
It *hurts* again now- comes in waves. Always worse, always worse.
A mother's lullaby- mine or someone else's? Singing about something morbid, because in those better days we couldn't just enjoy good things. Everything had to be a joke, a hidden veil to children they had to realize. Hands, the feeling of holding a wrinkled hand.
Now I want to cry again, a feeling that induces pain. I can't muster up the bodily function to, so I just feel numbing falling forward and a desire to vomit that won't go away. That bursts into more *hurt*.
Why do I have moments of thinking? Why can't I just be reduced to sensory flashes? I don't want to think like this, it *hurts*. *I keep dying*.
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We are wired to survive. You know the odds aren't good, that the end is probably just a few days into the future. But you try, you try to hold on. No one seems to know where it came from, the most popular theory before most communications networks broke down was that it was a biological weapon. No one knew how something like it could have been made, though. Many people turned on the first aerosol exposure, but not everyone. However, the virus mutates rapidly after infection. Just coming into contact with one of the zombies is a risk. I heard some people managed to survive being bitten, but as far as I know, a bite will infect you nine times out of ten.
The city is a bad place to be. I have a gun, and people who have succumbed are not terribly observant. But I am still surrounded by enemies, ones that can inflict a fate worse than death. I need to eat, there is still food in the supermarkets and restaurants. Once I have enough food, I will flee the city entirely and look for other survivors.
I stride quietly into the market, the door already shattered. I'm not sure what the city's uninfected population is now. A lot of people are dead, and those that are alive are probably heading for the hills. I reach the canned goods aisle and start to fill my backpack. I have a high end portable water filter with me, I should be able to drink from any body of water safely. But I can still starve.
Can after can goes into the pack, but I have tuned out of the world around me. I hear a shuffle a few feet from me and turn. It's one of the zombies, it lunges, knocking me to the ground. It tries to sink its teeth into me. My left arm is pinned, I canโt reach the gun. But my right hand has a can of soup in it. I bash the corpse's head with it, denting both the can and the monster's head. I do enough damage to make it go limp, but I don't stop for several seconds, then I kick the now actually dead zombie off of myself, grab my bag, and flee the market.
I am two miles away when I start to feel funny. I tell myself it is the adrenaline fading from my system. Another mile, and I realize I'm hungry. I open a can of beans and stuff my face with it. Then another. I'm still hungry.
Two more miles, and I can no longer pretend something is not wrong. I can feel something changing inside me. I sit on a bench, and do what I have been avoiding. I check myself for wounds, and find a gash on my upper arm. I realize that, in the confusion, the zombie's teeth had carved a furrow in the skin of my right arm as I struggled to get it off me.
I feel queasy, on the verge of vomiting. I try to tell myself platitudes of comfort, "You'll make it," "You'll be fine," "Bites aren't always lethal," "Just find a doctor and they'll fix you up."
I feel a sickly creeping sensation. The malaise and fever of a conventional sickness, combined with the ever growing and utterly insatiable hunger. I walk two more miles, feeling myself changing inside the whole way. Soon, I won't be me anymore. No one knows what it is like to turn, those consumed by the disease are entirely incapable or unwilling to report the experience.
What should I do, in the fading final hour of my life? I could try to end it, damage my body until I could be no threat to anyone. I could embrace the disease, become an unabashed monster. I could look for other survivors to heal me or at least provide a death with a minimum of pain.
I stand, wavering for what feels like a long time. The shadows have grown only slightly longer, but I am indecisive. I know what the responsible choice is, but I don't think I have the strength to do it anymore. I walk into the countryside at a shamble. I hope I find a corpse or an animal to sink my teeth into.
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lv6l0si
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lv6ehtn
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[WP] Every five years your island society must retreat into bunkers to avoid the month long flood. Out of boredom and rebellion, you surface to find no floodwaters at all. Just the face-less creatures.
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โComplete remission?โ
โYes, Sir,โ the AI droned.
โIn 100% of the test subjects?โ
โYes, Sir.โ
โWell, this is certainly unexpected. Double check the selection of terminal cancer patients as the test subjects for Bio-Weapon X. Were they all genuinely independent selections?โ
โNo anomalies found, Sir. All subjects were predicted to die in the next three months, lowering the chance of bio-weapon test detection. As you directed, Sir. All subjects were selected at random from a world-wide pool. Post-selection analysis indicates no unexpected correlations.โ
โWell, well. Schedule a suitably anonymized conference call with the bidders for Bio-Weapon X. Let them know in advance that it will be about a delay. Then scour the medical records of world leaders and billionaires. Find me some with cancer or with loved ones with cancer. Oh, and increase funding to the tobacco lobbyists by 250%. If we can cure cancer, weโre going to need more cancer.โ
โYes, Sir.โ
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I looked at the results, dumbstruck.
Seven tests and countless other minor examinations continued to confirm the fact.
The new virus (or should I call it an anti-virus?) was not the bioweapon I was expecting... it was a virus-killer that could kill cancer cells and prevent them from being generated. I had wanted a non-lethal virus that could suppress human cells and force them to obey my command, turning humans into unfortunate souls trapped in their own bodies.
How had this happened? It was supposed to suppress cells and force them to act on my orders, but due to a small mistake in programming it appeared that the thing could suppress cancerous cells and kill all mutations...
Then my lips curled into a smile. Perhaps this was going to work in my favor after all...
After all, no one knew of my existence. I had mostly stayed quiet, keeping my multi-billion family fortune hidden. I was a scientist who worked for the new Phoenix Labs by day, a savior.
Nobody knew that I had released the Life Eater Virus. That biotechnology and nanotechnology had been combined together to release the dreaded pandemic which had stripped Latin America of life and polluted the atmosphere. Nor that I had orchestrated the attacks on Japan and Korea with the Atomic Lasers, razing both countries to the ground.
That the combination of the two were slowly turning the atmosphere into a toxic and cancerous mess, contact with which was disintegrating plants, animals, humans and even microbes on an atomic level.
Nobody knew that the dreaded Coils of the Hydra were owned by me. No one knew that the dreaded God-Machines (a terrifying fusion of Flesh and metal with advanced technology) were my creation. Or that I was the progenitor of the dreaded Flayers (courtesy of another of my creations, the Reaper Virus). Or my Super-Soldiers, the Evergreens, were owned by me.
The notorious shadow simply called "Overlord" stood as a scapegoat in my stead.
And while I definitely would conquer the world anyways, why not speed it up? That being said, they had colonies in the Solar System. These could be used as a launching ground for a rebellion, so they could be sundered in half if I actually revealed the full strength of my inexhaustible armies.
Lay low and achieve. Till I corrupted everything. That was my motto.
Cancerous substances ravaged the world, and offering the desperate masses a cure would bring me into the spotlight as a "good guy." A few staged assassination attempts, a few bribes, another favor from some other problem, a strong PR Campaign... and you have rabid, easily-misled folks selling their bodies for it.
And by the point everyone realized, well...
Hmm, perhaps I could create another round of super-soldiers. That, or Project Silicon.
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jjo75tk
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jjo6dia
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[WP] One's magical power is stored in a small object that must stay on the person at all times. Many duels and even fights consist of attempts to find this item
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"Grok would like magic man to stop being weird about it."
The Barbarian orc stood proudly for having been stripped completely naked and locked in a cage along with the rest of his party. Phinius, the mage, shrugged.
"I'm not sure why I thought it would be bigger, I'm just a little disappointed is all."
The rogue, Gebranth, snapped the finger bone he had been trying to pick the cage lock with.
"Well, friends, at least it's been interesting."
The mage laughed and the other two served him flat looks, both assuming he'd passed the threshold from mostly to completely mad.
"Honestly. You two are so gloomy. We've got them right where we want them!"
Gebranth raised an eyebrow.
"Heavily armed, about to flay us alive and preparing to cook us into a presumably unseasoned stew?"
The Barbarian grunted in dissent.
"Grok see sack of onions and rosemary plant on way in. Stew probably tasty."
The rogue rolled his eyes but Phinius continued.
"They took us into the heart of their lair, my fine fellows." He said. "Right next to their treasure hoard."
Gebranth sighed.
"What difference does it make locked in this cage, Phin? They clearly took off your focus." He said, pointing to the spot on the mages ear where his earring normally was.
A faint smile curled at the edge of the old mages mouth.
"They didn't take it out." He said. "I did."
Grok shared a look with the mage and both began laughing. Gebranth looked between the two, perplexed.
"Wait is that why you didn't fight back when we were captured? Why would you take it out?"
Phinius stopped laughing and snapped his fingers. The lock on the cage snapped.
"To swallow it."
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"Mommy! Mommy! Look, it's him!" A young boy exclaimed as he tugged on the tattered hem of his mother's shirt and pointed to a disheveled, unkempt man who sauntered drunkenly down the road.
The child's mother turned her attention from a rickety, dirt caked vegetable stand and begrudgingly turned in the direction of her son's frantic finger. The market fell deathly silent before slowly reviving with the sound of hushed whispers and half-mouthed murmurings. It seemed that all had stopped their business to watch as the man strolled through the market, seemingly oblivious to the effect his presence had caused.
As was obvious to all throughout the city, this mangey and malnourished man was far from the drunken beggar he appeared, he was in fact a seasoned war mystic and, before his unprecedented retirement, the reigning champion of the Grand Arena of Behmot. Countless men and women had travelled from across the seven kingdoms to test their strength and skill against Skellid the Ferrel, only to meet their gruesome fate upon the arena's unforgiving sand.
A short and slight man, who probably weighed less than a common greatsword, Skellid didn't appear to be the kind of man to win the favour of the bloodthirsty masses. Despite his countless victories and undoubtable magical prowess, it was Skellid's mystique that had launched his reputation to one of legend.
For as long as mystics had mastered the use of magic and levelled the field of battle by putting power in the hands of all who had the will to learn, there was one commonality that all warriors shared; Just as a Knight must weild his sword, and an archer his bow, a mystic must, at all times, posses their totem. A small object of significant emotional importance to its owner, a totem is the link between a mystic and the unwieldy force known as magic that they seek to bend to their will. Totems range from rings to shields, with countless deviations between, and if a mystic ever loses their totem, they'll soon find themselves as helpless as a foal in a wolf's den. Yet in all his battles, dressed in nothing but tattered, moth-munched robes not fit for the prisoners of Grimgab, no one had ever even seen a glimps of Skellid's totem.
Skellid's totem had been the subject of rumour and speculation since his time in the army, and this speculation only grew with his body count. At one point, the top bet in the gamblers den's was either one or both of his sandals. A powerful mystic by the name of Delae even called him out when Skellid met her challenge in the arena, laughing that she would take his sandals as a trophy. Her corpse left the sands with the melted remains still dripping from her face.
Even now, a full decade from his retirement, Skilled is still challenged by the occasional knight or mystic hoping to make their name against the old man. Yet their names faded as quickly as their blood was cleared from the streets.
Skellid stopped by the vegetable stand, wordlessly trading a coin for a ripe, red tomato. He smiled to himself as he saw a young boy, turning to smile at him while being quickly pulled away by his mother. With his long brown hair and ruddy cheeks layered with dirt, the boy reminded Skellid of his brother. His brother had died when they were both still young and not a day passed when Skellid didn't think of him; Thanks in part to the wooden arm of his brothers favourite toy, that, thanks to a brotherly quarel, was still, all these decades later, lodged firmly in the fat of his thigh.
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luakww3
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jmfanvl
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[WP] After Earth was declared a galactic safe haven, anti-xenoterrestrial sentiment began to rise. You, a second generation immigrant from another planet, calmly walk down the street when a voice yells at you "Go back to Mars!" You snap back "I was born in Chicago!"
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One thousand years ago, the holy knight Gareth of Deepwood, wielder of the Chrysanthemum Blade, leader of the Circle of the Sacred Sky, and the fated Seventh Son of the Seventh Son, laid the demon lord Roshanet low. As the blade was plunged deep into the fiend's chest, he issued forth Prophecy.
"Know you this, Children of Men, there is no blade of mortal make that can truly slay the True Lord of Demons. A thousand years from now, when you are dust and none remember even your names, I shall return and deliver ruination unto all!"
Naturally, there were those who felt that this was naught but bluster - an attempt to claw back a victory from what was truthfully a sound defeat and assuage a badly wounded demonic pride. These people were summarily drummed out of the rulership of the kingdom, stripped of noble titles and lands, and their possessions forfeited to fund the Chrysanthemum Institute. The finest arcanists, priests, and warriors came together under this banner, with the sole stated goal of ensuring that Roshanet's little threat came to nothing.
First and foremost, Gareth's sword was willingly given up to the institute for study. The arcanists spent decades studying the various spells woven into the blade, figuring out what was the exact magic that made it so effective against demons. Each enchantment and blessing was applied to separate bamboo rods by the priests, which were then issued to the warriors. Lesser fiends were summoned on an industrial scale for scientific testing. Each time a rod was found to be effective, the spell would be noted and applied in combination with others to create effective mass-production demon-slaying weapons.
Next, there was the Chronicler corp. Their job was keeping accurate track of the precise date and time of Roshanet's defeat, and using that to extrapolate the rough date and time he would return. In the event that the Chrysanthemum Institute, its home country, or both fell before that time, they also were tasked with ensuring that future generations would be prepared to deal with the demon lord. Additionally, a subset was tasked with studying other powerful demons, the effect they had on the world around them, and the signs that could be used to predict their movements.
Finally, there was the warrior training. Gareth himself headed this group at the beginning, training soldiers to combine swordsmanship with spellcraft, though he knew that most would not be blessed with his natural arcane might. He worked with the kingdom's most skilled artificers to build support units that the soldiers would be able to use to supplement their weaknesses. Some decided to forego balancing their loadouts to better specialize - arcane snipers, juggernauts, barrier masters and engineers. Eighty years after the Institute opened its doors, Gareth passed away surrounded by friends, family, those he inspired, and most importantly those who would carry on his purpose.
Nine-hundred-ninety-nine years after Roshanet fell before Gareth's band of heroes, the Signs and Portents were read by the Chroniclers. One year and one day hence, the Demon Lord would rise again. The exact location where the demon lord would re-emerge was determined, and the Guardians got to work. Engineers began the process of constructing turrets, barrier masters carved arcane sigils around the spot spiraling out for miles, with weaker sigils built in depth. Sniper posts, with enchanted rifles and blessed ammunition, were situated all around Point Gareth, named for the first head of the Chrysanthemum Institute, ready to take full advantage of centuries of arcane and technological advancement.
"At long last, Children of Men, your destroyer returns!" A deep, thundering voice echoed as crimson smoke coalesced exactly where the Chroniclers had predicted, "The Gnashing Fang, The Rending Claw, The Harrower of Souls-"
"Target acquired - Wild Roses, charge your C-blades and prepare to engage. Acanthus, bring the arc turrets online. Red Camellias, lay down suppressing fire for the Wild Roses. White Chrysanthemums," The commander, Gareth XXXII, grinned, "With me. We're finishing this here and now."
Demons are strong, cunning, and seemingly-eternal. They are deadly adversaries to even the mightiest. Roshanet, the Demon Lord, was almost certainly the most powerful of his kind. He was not even remotely prepared for an enemy that had not, in fact, forgotten him.
|
"Man, ignore that motherfucker. C'mon."
It'd be different if it didn't happen every few days. But nonetheless, Sai followed Opie as he wandered further down the block. Through traffic, and eventually to a small restaurant. Sai hadn't eaten there, Opie constantly kept talking about it however.
And while she'd never had pizza before, it was a bit better than expected. The slice was only $20, but it was at least the size of her head.
"I haven't eaten like that in a minute." He finally sat back. Eyes glowing under his glasses as he checked the updates on the baseball game within the lens. Even through the window, cheers could be heard from the stadium.
"It was really good!" She happily agreed.
"All this time you spent in Chicago and never ate any pizza?" He returned to their conversation. "That's like a crime against humanity."
Sai wasn't paying attention. She was busy watching the crowds mulling around the stadium across the road. A somewhat vacant look had taken over.
"Sai?"
Her name drew her back as he looked out the window. "Yes?"
"Is something wrong?"
"Oh. I've lived here my whole life. Well most of it. And people still keep telling me to go home."
"Yeah, I get that."
"No. No you don't. They don't say that to you."
"For starters, I don't tell you the things they say to me."
"Why not?"
"Because odds are they ain't gonna' do shit." He glanced lazily. "They'll say it. But most people aren't keen on dying on that hill." He tensed a little on that last part.
She blinked at that, the smells and sounds almost inaudibly emanating from him giving off an air of malice."What do you mean by that?"
"Do I have to spell it out for you?" He said spreading his arms outward. The aura of his lightened up again.
"Why are you so mean?" She teased him at this.
"This isn't me being mean. I'm being frank and honest at the moment." He answered. A mushroom fell of the remainder of his slice and landed in his soda. He frowned a little, shrugged, and drank out of the glass while the vegetable floated in the ice.
Sai simply shook her head at his demeanor. Opie probably wasn't the most delicate person. But as ugly as he could get, he meant well.
"No, but it's complicated." He confided finally. "You know. The fact people hate people like you."
"Why?"
"You know." He said, setting his food back down. "There's a conversation that I had as a kid. And it's a talk we all have to have. For our own good."
Sai simply looked at him as she munched on a piece of shaved ice. The green syrup already turning her tongue that color from its natural blue. It was funny, but now wasn't the time.
"It's really simple. Somebody's always going to hate you."
"Hmm."
The pair both stopped messing with their food to look at each other. An innate study for the topic.
"The reason doesn't matter. It could be who you are. What color you are. Who you're attracted to. Your voice. Your looks. Pretty or ugly. Fat, skinny. Doesn't matter. What you are. Where you're from." He stated.
"Even if you're from here. They'll hate you. And whoever they are, they'll find a reason to hate you. Even if there isn't a reason. They'll make up one."
He took a sip of his drink, realized the straw caught the mushroom. Turned and casually breathed down the straw. The mushroom hitting the window and sticking, much to his concern.
"And the unfortunate part is." He continued. "Plenty of people don't grow out of that. They get older. They leave school. Go to a job, go to jail, go to whatever. And they stay like that. And they can, unfortunately, even get into positions of power on occasion. And use their bias against you."
"Right..."
"Y'know?" He asked. "Could be some drunk asshole. Could be a cop. Or a social worker. A politician. A family member. Nobody's above it. A lot of people love picking a side."
"And when my mother told me this. I cried. Get me?" Opie narrowed his eyes. "I was maybe 8?" He shrugged. "It happens."
"You turned out alright." She egged on. His general vibe brightening again. "It seems pointless though."
"You're grown though. It's not like this is some big revelation." He dismissed his own speech. "I'm just talking stupid."
"Weird how it happens though." Sai wagered as she circled back around to the topic.
"It is. Buuut.... We've done it to each other for thousands of years. Before you or anybody like you were ever a thought. Welcome to the club. Tag you're it."
Sai rolled her head on the back of her seat for a second. "That's dark. Even coming from you."
"I didn't say it was all bad." He smiled. "There are infinitely more good people or people who are just scared of things they're not familiar with." He belied. "Nobody's perfect."
"Trauma, possibly?"
"Definitely." He pointed. "Maybe something happened, and they never thought to get help."
"Or they didn't think they could." She theorized.
"Yeah, it's tough to hear about that sort of thing."
A pair of the delivery bots turtled past them in the aisle, left the open door and rolled down the ramp to the street. The whine of the little motors soon overtaken by the noise of the city. The little holograms dancing next to the napkins letting them know that another successful order had been filled. Gimmicky, but, it added a bit of dumb charm in passing.
"Oh well. How about we get moving? It's the bottom of the 7th. I'd rather we beat the rush."
"But, I'm not done with my ice."
"Take it with you?"
They each casually observed the police as they watched a man try to scale a light pole before sliding back to the bottom, and into handcuffs. He began screaming as a tiny drone fluttered past his face. A crowd forming around the scene.
"Sounds good to me." She agreed.
As they passed back through the clusters of pedestrians. She couldn't help but find hope and humor in their conversation.
"It's different off planet Opie. I know you've never been."
"Good God. I'd hope so." He acknowledged. "Everybody better be cool if it means not dying in a tin can."
She soaked in the muggy atmosphere of a hectic evening. Of a place living and dying at the same time. As usual; what a mess.
"The things that can bring us together." She mused.
"Ain't that the truth."
---
r/Jamaican_Dynamite
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lczxfg9
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lczttgx
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[WP] Once an hour, every hour, the richest person on earth dies. This continues indefinitely...
|
I sat out on the porch, looking out at my garden, the richest man in the world.
Nowadays of course, being the richest man came with a very short life expectancy. At least I knew that while my wife and children would be well cared for after my death, they would be significantly less rich than me -- comfortable, but not rich enough for a death sentence.
My garden was badly overgrown. As my cancer had progressed, I just hadn't had the strength to keep up with the children's events, housework and the garden, something had to give.
The deal was good. The doctors said I only have a month to live at most, and it would be a painful experience. The 10 richest people in the world had formed a company, just a place to store 90% of their wealth. Every hour the company was signed over to a new owner. In return for ownership, we have no real power. Once we pass, a small portion of the company's assets are given to our estate, to be passed on to our families. A tiny proportion of so much wealth is still more money that I made in my life up to this point.
It is amazing how life goes on as normal. No-one knows why the world's richest person dies on the hour, every hour, but it only took 24 hours for the world's most expensive lawyers to come up with an air-tight solution -- 24 billionaires died, and now the world carries on the same as ever. Just a few people die a little earlier, and their families get a generous inheritance. Not even enough to actually decrease the wealth of The Company, it turns out you don't need much to bribe people with who don't have a future anyway.
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โDurva aunty! Tarun is fighting with the boys and isnโt giving the ball,โ said one of the three little kids who had come to call Durva.
โWhat!โ Durva was stirring dal in a large cauldron in the common kitchen where many other men and women performed their duties. She dropped the long stirrer and knowing that someone would take over her work, she ran. โWhere is he?โ
โThe ground!โ The kids shouted in unison behind her.
*No! Not Tarun. I donโt know how long he has held onto the ball. I hope to God he doesnโt think it belongs to him!*
Durva ran through the street flanked by houses. The gates always were open, many gates were removed decades ago.
โNothing is yours! Everything is ours!โ A voice called out from some distant speakers, the same voice that called over and over again every two hours.
She ran past a large poster painted carefully in red with the same slogan.
Some people squatted in groups of four or five and played something. Others were returning from their farming duties at the common farms outside their community. Two men carried back a hog on a long stick. As Durva ran past them, some hushed among themselves, some shook their heads and others never noticed her.
Durva panted as she reached the ground. Her eyes darted around to find Tarun and quickly spotted a group of kids sitting idly under a tree. Tarun was kicking the ball on a wall some distance away in the sun.
*Oh my God!* Durva sprinted and called, โTarun!โ
Tarun was barely two feet tall with bony limbs. A grey shirt and faint red shorts hung on his torso. He stopped playing as he heard his mother.
Durva ran and saw his expression change from confusion to terror as she reached up to him. Before she could realise it, she smacked Tarun hard across the face. He fell on the ground and Durva quickly picked up the ball and threw it towards the sitting children. They didnโt move from their places as they stared at her mother-son duo.
Durva could not lose Tarun to The Curse of Possession, as it was called. During any hour, whoever was the wealthiest person on earth, would die. As soon as it was figured out, the world shifted to a sharing economy where no one possessed anything. It was all in the mind.
It was easy for the adults to change their beliefs under the constant threat of death. But then the children began dying. And soon it became like a disease that only afflicted the toddlers who were starting to learn what it meant to be human. And one of their natural phases went through the concept of personal possession.
Durva picked up Tarun by his shirt. He was silent, his eyes in disbelief at the violence from his mother. Durva raised her free arm, slapped Tarun across both cheeks a few times and shouted down at him, โThe ball is not yours. Nothing is yours! Get that thought out of your mind, Tarun!โ
Tarun now wailed into the sky, his arms hanging like limp branches by his side.
Durva picked him up in his arms and began to walk back. She needed to get back to the family who could guide her on what to do next. Tarun was still alive, which meant it hadnโt been an hour since he got the idea of possession. There was still time. And with her smacks, he must have forgotten about the ball by now, she thought.
โYou cannot think of anything as your possession, Tarun. It is dangerous and we are punished for such thoughts. See, everything belongs to us all. We are all one!โ Durva spoke into Tarunโs ears as she caressed his head and walked back.
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lexd8f7
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lexbtv9
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[WP] You squealed as the heroes unmasked and kissed in front of the roaring crowds. Waitโฆyou recognize their facesโฆthatโs YOUR best friend and YOUR girlfriend/boyfriend.
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A heavy feeling of creeping, cold numbness settled into my core as I stared at the screen, scrolling frame-by-frame through the video. The video, currently going viral on almost every social media network, was a close-up of Paragon, the Strongest Man in the World, savoir of the city many times over, lifting his helmet just enough that he could accept a kiss from the already partially unmasked Papillon, the woman who could fly faster than a fighter jet. All I could see, though, was my best friend Jacob kissing my fiancรฉe Corinne. It was unmistakable- Iโd known Jake since the 6th grade when Iโd stuck up for the new kid when a bully had tried to take his lunch. Weโd been practically inseparable since- teammates on the High School varsity wrestling team, roommates in college; hell, weโd been in the same DnD group every Saturday night for the last five years, so there was no way I could mistake his face now that I could see it under Paragonโs helmet. And Corinneโฆ I knew every inch of that womanโs face like the back of my hand. All the times Iโd woken up before her and justโฆ watched her sleep, staring in disbelief that Iโd managed to bring up the courage to ask out someone so beautiful, so far out of my league, much less get her to agree to marry me. There was no mistaking the face of the woman I loved. The two of them were the important people in my lifeโฆ and there they were on the screen before me. Superheroes. Kissing each other in a way that made it clear that they had done much, much more. โItโs one hell of a way to find out, I know.โ A womanโs voice said from behind me. I made an effort to turn to look at her, but such efforts are futile when your head is duct-taped to the back of your gaming chair. Not only that, but my arms and legs were tied to the chair, too, with only enough give in the rope that I could reach the keyboard and mouse in front of me; just enough so I could play and rewind the video on the monitor. โI thought you had the right to know, Dannyโฆโ The womanโs voice declared; this time closer. โโฆthat the two people you care about the most had been lying to you. Lying to you for a long, *LONG* timeโฆโ she practically growled, words dripping with sadistic glee and a bitterness that feltโฆ intensely personal. โTell me, how does it feel to be nothing more than a prop in their lives? A convenient alibi? A *tool*? *A quick fuck?!*โ The chair was then turned around, bringing me face-to-face with my captor. I recognized her- or her cowl, at least- immediately. Nemesis; supervillain, violent psychopath, and Paragonโs arch, well, nemesis. โWell? Gonna tell me? Aww, cat got your tongue?โ She asked, a sadistic smile splaying across her black-painted lips. โI-is that what this is about?โ I finally managed to croak out, after struggling through a throat that was suddenly unfathomably dry. โUsing me to- to g-get to them?โ I asked. โY-you said it. They clearly donโtโฆ donโt care about me. They wonโt-โ โDanny, Danny, *DANNY.*โ Nemesis interrupted, laughing as she gave the chair I was in a push. โHow poorly do you think of me? Using you to get to them. ME? I thought you knew me! I thought you LIKED me!โ She declared. โI D-d-donโt know you.โ I only just managed to stammer out. Nemesis laughed again. โOkay, NOW I see how you didnโt figure it out on your own - you REALLY donโt recognize me? Cโmon, weโve spent plenty of time together. Unless youโre really telling me youโve never checked out your best friends girlfriend?!โ
|
It was the day my life changed watching my best friend Henry not only reveal he was the Iron Guardian, my wife Sarah revealed she was Angel. It was also the beginning of the end for them.
Flash back to the day:
I watched with awe as the two heroes put down the villain Five Finger. He used his super speed to steal and today he has stolen everything in a bank except the pens seriously what was that chain made of.
There was cheering of course when the two heroes kissed people awwed after all they were a well known power couple. The surprise was when they removed their masks. I was even caught off guard, what started off as amazement quickly turned into sorrow and confusion and hurt becoming anger. Sarah my wife of 12 years, my high school sweethearts. We have 2 children together and she was locking lips with Henry my best friend I was there for him in college when his mother got sick I was there almost every day helping out.
I was so angry I was going to do something stupid. I knew I needed to go and so I did. I was spiraling down the rabbit hole when I finally called my therapist Becca.
Becca: "Hey Tim how are you doing?"
Tim: "I I... need" I was struggling to breathe now as my anger turned into panic. My life was over What would I tell our children Tina was 13 but Paul was only 5. Oh my God what if she took them away Angel the light of goodness nobody would believe me. I started sobbing and gasping to breathe.
Becca: "Tim remember what we talked about in therapy. I'm coming to you just hold on"
A very nice BMW pulled up shortly after. I saw Becca jump out the driver's side and grab me. She was strong for a 5'2 woman who probably weighed like 100 pounds. I felt another set of hands grab me pulling me into the backseat. The car started and someone pushed me upright to buckle me in.
I felt a hand run through my hair while someone hummed softly.
Julie: "Becca how long do I need to run my hand through his hair?"
Becca: "Seriously Julie can you just please comfort him.
Julie: Becca my fricking hand is in his hair and I'm humming Shake it off"
Becca pulled into a garage and parked. She opened my door "ok Tim can you walk? We're going to the elevator"
I stood up my legs shook and my eyes stung but I slowly walked behind Becca.
Julie: "See he just needed to shake it off"
Becca groaned "Seriously how are you my sister"
I plopped into the couch and Becca grabbed a chair and brought it closer to me.
Becca: "Julie go grab a Pepsi for Tim and yourself. Ok Tim what happened?"
Tim: "she she Sarah cheated on me with Henry" I started to tear up I had nobody else I had bounced from one foster home to another as a kid. I didn't have friends either.
Becca: " ok Tim what happened exactly?"
Tim: " Sarah kissed Henry I was watching Iron Guardian and Angel they kissed and then they removed their masks and it was Sarah and Henry" my eyes welled up with tears.
Eventually Becca got me sorted and even had a suggestion on how to get ahead of Sarah and get my vengeance.
Becca held her phone up recording me as I spoke " My name is Tim King and I'm a husband and father." I held up a family photo "That's Tina and that's Paul and this is my wife Sarah or as I found out today the superhero Angel when she kissed Iron Guardian my supposed best friend."
Becca promised she would make sure it went viral as I handed her my wedding dvds. Once I had the kids packed up and Paul was holding our cat Lucifer we left for a place that Becca promised would be safe. I called her friend the lawyer explaining my situation.
Lawyer: "Crap this is going to be tough but first thing we need is an emergency order of protection so she can't just snatch the kids"
This lawyer was fast and I was standing in front of a judge 2 hours later. My lawyer argued that because Sarah and her lover were super powered an order was needed preemptively to ensure my kids and my safety. Initially the judge was hesitant until my lawyer went below the belt "Angel aka Sarah King has hidden an affair from her husband for 11 years and still she thought so little of him" my phone vibrated and I looked to see Sarah was calling.
Lawyer: "Go ahead Tim" as soon as I answered Sarah started yelling "Tim how could you my mom just called me a hussy and Henry's mom doesn't want him to come visit Sunday dinner. You fricked my life you bastard. I'm going to punch you if you don't get your butt back here with my kids"
Judge: "ok I heard enough protection granted and my clerk will inform the league and police of the order."
Sarah: "Tim!" The lawyer hung up my phone.
Becca had kept her word first with the tabloids and the Villian 4 chan but it quickly made nationwide news and that call well it was a death knell. The public did what I never could they got vengeance for me but more importantly sole custody of our children and yes Lucifer.
Sarah even tried to walk into my apartment only for Superguy to stop her. He made sure she left. That was the last straw for the league who kicked Sarah and Henry out of the league.
Instead of Henry going to his mom's house on Sunday it was me and the kids. When Christmas came it was the kids and me at their grandparents houses not Henry and Sarah.
And if you were wondering Becca is still my favorite therapist.
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jrtl0p2
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jrtcy9x
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[WP] You have lost count of how many time travelers have come to kill you. You don't know why they came and at this point you don't care. You will become what they fear simply out of spite.
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It rained when the first one arrived all those years ago, and it rained now, as I stood over another. Over the body of a once so worthy killer sent from somewhere beyond my timeline. I guess it said something about me that I paid more mind to the rain than the bleeding man on the ground, but I had learned to stop believing in coincidences and this rain was certainly not one.
It always rained when they came.
If this one, this man now growing colder by the second on the pavement, long blonde hair running in streams down his face, had been the one sent all those years ago then maybe he'd have succeeded in his task. And maybe I'd be long dead. But instead they had sent a version of me. Sent me back to kill me. I would have had trouble killing anything else, but me? I had no trouble killing me.
I remember the day. The forecast didn't call for rain, yet there it was. A drizzle, pouring down from a clear blue sky as if the fountains of heaven spilled over. I thought it strange as I stood staring from my balcony. *At least my plants will get something from this*, was the only stupid thought in my head.
Then he, I, arrived. Not in a flash or through a swirling portal, but just showed up in my living room. A me, a much older me; his forehead wrinkled and eyes slimmer. Scars where I had none and less fingers than I remembered owning. He smiled to me, I thought, but there was a metallic threat in his hand which took priority.
"You should really get rid of this ratty old thing." He said, finding a seat on the couch.
"Did you? I replied. A guess on my part, but there was no mistaking our eyes. I knew him. I knew us.
He chuckled, gun still pointed up, "No, no.", he sighed. "We sure are just creatures of habit."
As I walked to him he seemed unconcerned. His face did not change, eyes did not grow in size. Slowly I reached out and took the gun from his three fingered hand, which uncurled at my touch.
"Are you just going to let me...?" My voice had trailed.
Once again he grinned, smiling as an old man looking to a child fondly. "Why not? You have so much to live for." And then, with a simple pull, he was gone. Not gone back to his home, the time where we'd come from, but gone in a heap on my living room floor.
I'm not sure what compelled me to kill him. Maybe the assumption that he was there to kill me. Or maybe just seeing us that way scared me. But since then they did not stop. Every rain on a clear sky I knew it, knew someone had arrived for me. And every time I left a body behind.
Some faces I'd recognize. Sometimes my mom or dad, brother or friend sent back from the far future. Others I did not. A child or woman, daughter or son.
Eventually they had stopped coming as assassins, rather as just people. But by then it was far too late. Every rain it was then I looking for them. I searching for the anomally and ending it with the same gun I'd first used.
All it was now was a wait. A wait until I had become old and withered, lost enough fingers and gained enough wrinkles to look as the man in my living room had. Then I would not hesitate as he, I had. I would kill him before he had a chance to consider the rain. And end us both.
If not for me, if not to end the thing that I'd become, then simply because I deserved no less.
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I was innocent once. Naรฏve, really, but isnโt naรฏvetรฉ born from innocence?
Well, no matter. It wasnโt a familiar feeling anymore.
My home was the valley forest where Iโd first opened my eyes under a starry sky and a full moon. I waited in one of my caves, watching as the scouts darted through the trees. They were clumsy, these humans. Even the skilled beckoned me like a fire, obviously foreign to my home.
Tree branches waved to me, crying *theyโre here, here!* Silent owls hooted and announced interlopers. Insects scurried from beneath boots, and their human tread vibrated in my belly, as if they stepped on my skin.
Endless. Kill three and thirty more replaced them, but it was the work I was given, so I slid from my cavern and entered the forest.
The scouts didnโt tremble noticeably, although a gulp or two betrayed a dry mouth. These were men, not boys. I wondered if they were knights.
The next part I didnโt like.
A blue eyed man had made it the closest to my cavern, bow drawn, eyes shrewd. Middle aged, with ranks on his shoulders. His callouses felt thick against the inside of my cheeks before his hands went limp.
The next one was bald and short, with large black eyes that matched his skin. He managed to let out a cry before the scarred flesh of his throat pealed against my tongue.
That caused a stirring in the forest. I ran like a shadow through the woods, *this way, this way* the birds above indicated, *here* called a rabbit thumping against the forest floor at the point where the knights converged.
โMonster,โ some of the men cried, and I let the anger build in my chest. โThe monster is coming.โ
*Monster?* **Monster?**
I barreled through the tree line and into the group of a dozen trained men. Metallic clangs bruised me but didnโt break through my hide as I tore into them. Eyes swam in my vision. That was the worst part, I had to carry the image of each kill with me. They came to me at night and stood vigil, plaguing my dreams. The innocent activity of sleep was spoiled.
*You!* I screamed as I tore into them, giant claws shredding their armor like butter. It was amazing how good the outlet of anger felt. I spilled pain and sleepless nights and fear into that clearing, wielding it with vengeance.
Ruined. I was ruined.
Finally, there was no movement left in the meadow. My body was slick with blood, the meadow was red and silver. I turned away, nausea flipping my stomach. I disappeared through the trees, letting the carnivores of my forest enjoy what they could. With each step away from my misdeeds I shrank, letting my body reflect my earliest years.
The trees towered over me, and I remembered the wide eyed joy Iโd looked up with my first day alive. A canopy of home.
I couldnโt enjoy the distant friends that had watched me throughout my life. I felt small, exposed. They watched me with malicious judgement now. I wasnโt their child any longer.
I bounded through the tall grass to the spring at the heart of my forest, crying as the water turned red around me. The bottom of the spring cleansed my scales and mouth, and I washed upon her shore small and tired.
Peace.
*Here, here* a voice called, and I looked up to see a young girl and her father standing above me. She had a basket in one arm and foraging dagger on her hip that sheโd pulled free and pointed at me. Her father pushed her behind him. A bow was slung across his back.
I cried out in frustration. My forest rustled in the night as I towered over them. My reflection was in their wide eyes. I didnโt like what I saw. I shrank and turned, laying back down on the bank.
The girl circled around me, her fatherโs bow trained on my approximate heart. I ignored them. Then the girl dove into the spring. That made me raise my head. What was happening?
I watched as the girl struggled back and forth across the bottom of the spring, her fatherโs jaw tight and bow drawn. After a moment he cursed and jumped in after her.
What an odd time to swim.
Thatโs when I saw a little blue body. Her father grabbed her and pulled her out of the water. She was a little blonde cherub, blue. Dead.
They tried to administer aid, but it was useless. I bent my head forward and the father yanked his living daughter back, scrambling for his bow. I touched the childโs forehead, feeling power go out of me. She slowly began to blink.
The girl cried out in happiness, but their father screamed in rage, unable to see through his terror. A shaft bruised my shoulder and I growled. I lifted the toddler below me onto my back.
โNo give her back!!โ he cried, loosing another arrow. My claws rend the earth.
โFather, stop!โ the girl cries. But heโs gone, Iโve dissolved him into red mist.
Now the girl shrieks. I bare my teeth at her, eyes on her dagger. She trembles, then retreats toward town. I let her go. The toddler is oblivious, magicked to sleep on my back. I take her. She is mine, and now when death calls, maybe Iโll have something to hold me back.
My head lifts.
*Here! Here!*
There are soldiers in the forest again.
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j6h9gns
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j6h8gah
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[WP] Believing it'd teach you humility, your fellow gods cast you down in a temp exile to live a life as a human before returning. Unfortunately, you return bitter, resentful, and having learned the opposites of what they intended. You lead an army of mortals in a revolution, and you're winning...
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โThese are not terms of peace,โ spat Jovios. โThis would be surrender.โ
Resting the quill down on the scarred mahogany table I leant back in my chair, watching as the deityโs face contorted and frowned reading and re-reading the short length of parchment presented to him. โCall it what you will, it is an end to this conflict.โ I advised.
Locks of ashen white hair floated as if suspended underwater as his slender figure rose and paced around the plateau, puffs of umber tinged dust erupting under heavy steps. Neutral ground was hard to find but it made the location of our engagement oddly fitting. Cracked earth extended as far as the eye could see with various shades of orange and maroon forming great plates across the mesa. Neither stem or bud could root in the desolate waste.
โLaima has seen what becomes of our planes, I know that to be a fact.โ I brushed off the small piles of sand accumulating in the tableโs cracks. โIt will be millennia before a true order re-emerges. By which time, you will have lost the final sparks of your Godlihood.โ
Turning sharply the deityโs right fist coiled in a lethal arc toward me, flashes of crimson lightning rippling up his bulging forearm. My short crop of hair was tussled by the sudden gust, accompanied by the slight tingle on my cheek as if I had accidentally brushed against a nettle bush. โTraitor.โ Hissed the breathless Jovios, slumping down into his chair.
โItโs a shame,โ I mused. โWhen I was your ward, I watched you decimate legions of knights for your beloved Sophilian tribesmen. If I close my eyes, I can still smell the putrid concoction of charred flesh and melted bronze.โ
Through laboured breaths he locked eyes with me, โWhat have you done to me..? I cannot hear them.โ The weak voice whispered.
โYesโฆ I never quite knew what you meant by that.โ I responded, pushing up from my seat to loom over the fallen God. โThough you could hear, in your own hubris you refused to listen to them. Itโs no matter now of course, I will take care of them for you.โ Extending my index finger a surging store of energy boiled in my chest. As I willed it up to my shoulders, down to my elbow, and finally to burst forth from my fingertip, an overwhelming sensation of ecstasy forced my knees to buckle.
A great clap echoed from plateaus for miles around, ringing out in the lifeless expanse. The bolt left charred shadows behind us. Mine long and proud, squared shoulders and erect posture forever imprinted on the stone. Joviosโ a meek ball, curled under the chair with his head between his knees.
โLaima,โ I called out to the cloudless sky. โI know you are there. Tell the others of what happened here. Next time, send a delegate who is willing to speak of peace.โ
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"This God is dead!" You shout from the steps of Heaven's visitor center, "and we have killed him!"
Down below, the fifty-strong crowd of college freshmen cheer, and roar, and spit coffee-rich loogies up to the bloody body of the building's greeter God. One of the freshmen has carried an empty turtle shell with them, all the way from Earth, stolen out of the biology hall's display case. This furious student now straddles the dead body and brings the shell down over and over against the God's skull.
"Turtles!" He shouts with each swing, "All! The! Way! Down!"
"What the heck's going on out here?" Asks an attendant from the visitor center's main entrance. They wear a sun hat under their halo and a name tag on their blue sweater, robin egg, though the script the name is written in is illegible. The look of mild annoyance in their faces washes away to horror as they notice the body on the marble steps.
"My God!" Shouts the angel. "What did you do to him?"
"We didn't do it," snickers one of the Philosophy-101 students. "He created a stone so big that it crushed him!"
You and your hoard of teenagers laugh manically, though you don't exactly understand the joke.
"Why would you do this?" cries the angel. "He was just a kind, retired old God looking to do something with his free time. What has he done to deserve this?"
"What did we do to deserve him?" asked someone from the back.
"Wait, I recognize you," says the angel. "You're that bitter little God from the city counsel meeting, shouting at everyone about monotheism! I thought you'd moved to another afterlife."
"It doesn't end here!" You turn to face your new followers. "It's time for Regenisis! It's time for an Unholy Crusade! Let's give these Gods a taste of their own genocide!"
The class cheers again and follows you through the streets of heaven. They carry their pocket watch assembly manuals, their pipes that are just pipes, their chickens and eggs, and many other half-understood thought experiments into battle, through every public service building and God training center in town, through every court room and cosmic laboratory. You and fifty dedicated young minds over-rationalize your way into killing every modern, hipster God in town who are too loving not to turn the other cheek. You bring the Old Testament back on the new guards, until you are the last God in heaven.
Your followers celebrate their victory with a book burning in the town square, though, after starting the fire, no one can come to an agreement on which books to burn. So you carry a box of old phone books from the office of the dead God Mayor. The names of all the old God citizens fill the pages, and you and your disciples tear them out, page by page, to feed to the flames.
A few of the women in your class call back to vague pagan traditions they found on Google and decide to strip down and dance around the bonfire.
As the excitement dies down, you pull a wooden crate before the fire and rise to address the crowd.
"I thank you all for your devotion in dismantling this intellectual paradox."
You are met with enthusiastic whoops, claps, and whistles.
"Now that the reign of these defunct deities has passed, it's time to usher in a new universe, with one God, one voice, one ruler of creation to define the trajectory of existence!"
You receive one soft set of claps, which quickly shrinks away to nothing as it realizes no others will join it.
"As a. . ." You clear your throat. "Well, of course, as a cool God. A ruler of the universe that can let go of the steering wheel once in a while, let the universe run itself sometimes and see how it goes . . . A God that doesn't need a bunch of praise, or even, you know, can just be left alone up here in heaven as they watch you all just . . . doing your thing, and-"
"Let's get him!" Yells the turtle shell wielder.
And so your new followers pull you off your soap box. Despite your willingness to fight back, they force your hands behind your back and tie you to a wooden post. As you swing wildly from giving threats to promises to cries to bargains to hurdling furious curses down on all their heads, the students carry the post by its ends over to the roaring fire.
You realize this was all a bad idea, that you should have never showed up to the city counsel meeting, that you should have just payed the levee tax on postage stamps and gone about your day.
You accept that this is your death, and you've left no one behind you can pray to.
***
I'm new here, but I'm on a 20 day steak.
If you liked this and want more, the other 19 are at r/FarFetchedFiction
Thanks.
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j80rr35
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j80lk4f
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[WP] Write a futuristic story taking place in 2017 as told from the perspective of someone from the 60s
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"You can see them too?" Candace said, with a slight gasp.
Gary blinked. That was a new one. Much more common were excuses like "But they're only staying for a few days!" -- even though Gary didn't bother enforcing a lease's occupancy rules unless his tenant had already had guests staying for more than two weeks.
"You haven't exactly been subtle about it Cand--" he began, but the short blonde woman brought him up short by grabbing his hand.
"Come inside!" she said, excitedly, tugging his arm. He frowned, but allowed himself to be led forward. He'd seen so many of her guests coming and going that he was getting worried about the condition of her unit, and now was as good a time as any to see what the damage was.
The apartment actually didn't too bad, all things considered. That didn't change the fact that she was violating her lease by having all these guests. One of which, he noticed, was standing at the kitchen counter, chopping something with a knife. The woman looked a lot like Candace -- a sister, he guessed.
"Candace, you know the policy on people staying here if they're not on the lease--" he began, but she cut him off again, shaking her head vigorously.
"Gary, I don't have any guests!" she said, excitedly, sounding almost manic. She jerked a thumb at the other woman. "She does!"
He pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. Was she...*on* something? "Look, your name is on the lease -- that means that legally you're the only one allowed to stay here, and you're responsible for keeping it that way!"
"Tell her to go, then." Candace said, with a shrug.
He scowled. Now she was just being childish. Nonetheless, he turned to address her sister. "Ma'am, I don't know what Candace has told you, but she can't have people staying here long term. You and whoever else you brought with you need to go."
The woman just kept chopping.
Candace smirked. "Not so easy, huh? Here, let me try to get her attention for you."
Candace walked behind the counter and over to the stove, where she picked up a frying pan. Before Gary could stop her, she swung it at the other woman's head.
He started to shout at her to stop, but his cry died on his lips as the pan passed right through Candace's sister, then did so several more times as Candace fanned it through the air where the woman stood.
"W-what the..." he stammered, eyes bulging as Candace thoroughly demonstrated the immateriality of her houseguest.
She tested the pan on her shoulder. "See?"
Gary's shuddered, staring at the apparition, "H-how is that...how are you doing that?"
She laughed, incredulously . "I'm not doing anything! Uo until five minutes ago, I thought I was going insane."
"So...so ghosts are real." he said, with an air of resignation. He already had enough on his plate without adding ghosts into it. Oddly, he found himself wondering if this was a maintenance issue as per Candace lease -- did *he* have to hire ghostbusters, or was it her responsibility?
"I thought that too, at first. But nah, I don't think so." she mused, setting down the pan, and gesturing to the incorporeal woman. "For one thing, I don't have any sisters, dead or otherwise, and my mom and grandma are both alive."
"Maybe...maybe like your great grandmother, or something? Somebody that, you know, died young?" he offered, uneasily.
"Hm...maybe, but in a pair of jeans and a tank top, though?" she pointed out. "That's not how women dressed, way back when. I don't understand how, but I think she looks like me because she *is* me, like some kind of...I dunno, *other* me."
Gary hesitantly stepped closer, eyeing the apparition cautiously. Now that he was close, he could see she was chopping at nothing.
"So this...*other* Candace, she can't see or hear us?"
"Nope. None of them can, as far as I can tell." she said.
They both jumped as the woman suddenly looked up at them, and Candace let out a startled squeak. But the woman seemed to be looking past them. She set down the knife, and the utensil vanished, as she walked around the counter towards the door.
"Crap," Candace breathed, letting out a sigh, as they watched her walk past, and open the door. But behind the door was *another* door, which remained close, and the door she opened vanished as she removed her hand from the knob. "Always scares the bejeezus outta me when they do that."
"Why are there *two doors?"* Gary groaned. This was getting worse by the minute.
"One for us, one for them, maybe?" Candace said. "I think we can only see ghost-stuff when there's a ghost touching it."
"I thought you said they weren't ghosts?" Gary pointed.
"I meant not like *dead-people* ghosts." she said, uncertainly. "But they're people who you can see but aren't really there, so it still fits, more or less."
Gary watched the Other-Candace mutely talking to the closed door, and frowned, curiously.
"Who's she talking to?"
"Another ghost, I'd assume. We can't see them because the door -- the real door -- is in the way, I guess." Candace replied.
Cautiously, Gary stepped forward, and reaching past Other-Candace, he opened the apartment door.
Gary froze, his eyes widening as he saw the apparition she was speaking to. A tired-looking woman with auburn hair, dressed in a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, was talking animatedly to Other-Candace, though he of course couldn't hear what she was saying.
Candace frowned. "Huh. I haven't seen her before. Not one of other-me"s guests. I wonder who she is?"
"That's...that's my wife." Gary replied, hoarsely. "She died last year."
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Martha's husband used to deal with the rentals, and she liked it much better that way. But since he had so unfairly died before she did, it was now her responsibility to tend to both the properties and the tenants.
Now, Martha had always known that she isn't exactly "good with people." She had been told by everyone that ever knew her that she was difficult, abrasive, and overall unfriendly. This last descriptive marker made her feel more proud than she let on. You see, Martha has always enjoyed arguments and overall unpleasant conversations. They make her feel a light inside her soul, like a warrior on a battlefield, two arrows stuck in them raising their sword for the final kill.
It thrilled her, the art of the argument. But, when having to conduct herself in a more professional setting Martha had always let her rabid-dog-like conversational skills run in full capacity and it had resulted in multiple firings and a few annoying court proceedings afterwards.
Martha pulled the curtain back a little more to get a better look at the small rancher-style home that was located across the street. Some part of her did love that home. She had initially picked it out for her and her husband to start a family inside. But Mark thought it was beneath him, and so he purchased the far larger and nicer home across the street and gave Martha a rather unhappy surprise when, on moving day, he blindfolded her and revealed that this hunk of junk was her "real" new home.
Martha was devastated and she chose to show this emotional distress by sprinkling little offences or inconveniences in her husbands life for the entirety of their marriage. A rock in the toe of his shoe here, a hem sewed slightly off center there, a missing sock that returned only to go missing again right away, and many other little things that made Mark begin believe he was the unluckiest man alive.
Despite it's small size, the rancher had a beautiful interior and three rooms. It would have been more than enough room for a small family and then they could've upgraded when the other three little ones came along. But, alas, Martha never got what she wanted. She always got something, but it was never what she wanted.
And Mark had doomed Martha to a life where she had to watch other people misuse her beloved home and feel entitled to it. She fantasized about just burning the place to the ground and everyone inside.
But she would never actually do that... she didn't think.
Over the many years Martha made life at that little blue rancher as annoying and inconvenient as possible for the unlucky souls who chose to rent from her and her husband. She always started off strong with a nice dress and a batch of freshly baked cookies that she would drop off on moving day. She would play the friendly neighbor and concerned landlord to make her unsuspecting victims feel safe and happy. And then she would take off the mask and let her true colors shine brightly.
Martha liked to remember the "good-old-days" but she was nearly 70 now and her games and inconveniences were far less interesting and complex. She had gone from the perfect performer to the bitter old lady who, due to lack of creativity, chose to be simply awful to deal with and that did cause some annoyance and distress for her tenants, but it wasn't nearly as satisfying for Martha.
Martha's small green eyes darted towards a man dressed in a long black coat who was strolling down the street, pulling a suitcase behind him. Martha smiled, snapped a blurry picture on her old phone, and recorded the incident in her notebook.
Three people had arrived at the little rancher in the last few days, all of them with luggage. Martha could feel something exciting building. It had been years since she had ammo, had some good reason to confront her unsuspecting tenants.
Usually, Martha and Mark wanted the house to be rented by a family, but since a lot of people had fallen on hard times, this last time Martha rented her house to three young women who were studying at the University. Martha grinned a terrible grin. These girls thought they could just move in their boyfriends and friends without her noticing?
Martha saw everything.
With a small burst of energy Martha grabbed her walking stick and put on her best hat. Her old bones were nearly buzzing with excitement. She couldn't wait to see the look on those girls faces when she screamed at them and reminded them that only they could live there. She couldn't wait to put those good-for-nothing girls out on the streets. She hadn't been this excited since Mark fell ill and the doctor told her he was going to die.
She closed her door behind her and squinted in the sunshine. It was a warm day, perfect for a long and unpleasant conversation on a porch. Martha made her way slowly down the stairs and across the street. She had a slight limp due to a bad hip and she had to struggle a little to get up the three stairs that led to the blue door of the blue home.
Martha raised her cane and knocked loudly on the door three times.
After a moment the door opened shyly and the youngest girl with brown eyes and copper hair stood behind it. Her eyes were tired and she smiled weakly at Martha.
"Hi," she said, "Can I help you?"
"I know what you're doing in there," Martha hissed, hardly able to control herself, "I know all about it. Moving in your boyfriends and your friends. You thought you could trick me? I am going to ruin all of your lives." The girl seemed taken aback, but not because of Martha's threat and that angered Martha so she continued, "You don't think I see all the people you've had over in the last few days?!" she held up the notebook for proof, "It's all recorded in here. I just saw a man with his luggage come over. You are in breach of your rental agreement and I will ensure none of you ever get comfortable housing again!"
The girl blinked and opened her mouth only to close it and blink again. This angered Martha. She wanted to scream and fight but this girl was giving her no kindling for her fires. After another long second the girl leaned forwards, looked around as if worried someone else would hear their conversation and said in a tiny voice, "You can see them too?"
Anger erupted inside Martha like a storm crashing against the shore. So this young lady was going to play it like that? Make Martha, the old woman, think she was losing her marbles? How dare she.
"Don't play stupid with me, *girl*" Martha growled, "I have pictures and evidence. If you think you're being funny you are not and-" The girls eyes went wide and she put her hands up in defense.
"No," she said, "I'm sorry, I'm not mocking you. I-" she turned around, her eyes sweeping the living room before she pushed the door open more and nodded to the side, "You might as well come in."
Martha, looking like nothing more than an elderly toddler on the cusp of a meltdown huffed but took a step inside. Her curiosity was too intense and if she was inside she'd be able to spot these girl's secrets.
The interior of the home was beautiful, original wood floor, a brick fireplace. Martha sighed as her old eyes wandered around her would-be-home. She wished so badly for things to have been different. She could've found happiness if things had been different.
The girl walked towards the kitchen and motioned towards the living room.
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j8lbir8
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j8kov84
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[WP] As an assistant to a human emmisary to an Elven kingdom, you caused a diplomatic incident on the first day of the job by chuckling at a funeral for an Elven princess, who was said to have been "taken from us before her time, at the young age of 574 years"
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Later that day, sitting on the floor of our cell, I couldn't stop wondering.
"Sir... why did you start laughing so hard?" I asked the head emissary I was supposed to assist.
He was next to me, he turned his head, his eyes looked like empty sockets.
"Well, that was a first for me."
"A first... you mean what they said?"
"Yeah, that joke."
"But then why are we here now, sir? I was thinking... maybe you laughed too much? Mine was just a chuckle..."
"I'm not sure. I mean, this is my first delegation to an Elven kingdom before."
"First embassy?"
"Yeah, they just sent us overnight all of a sudden for a reason, no? It was urgent. So they just assembled the first ones available, and that was us."
"So... you... how long have you been an emissary, sir?"
"Couple of years."
"Oh. What will happen to us now?"
"I don't know. I don't really know elves."
"You... don't?"
"Used to work the kitchen before."
"Well, what were we supposed to do anyway?" I asked.
"I'm not sure, it sounded like a joke to me. It seemed appropriate to laugh."
"That's what I thought too..."
\[...\]
Later that night.
Lord General Astrid stood before the Council, four old decrepit old men.
"So. Are we sure this time we're gonna have a war declaration? We can't wait no more to invade them. The Bankers Guild is waiting", said one.
"What was the plan again?" asked another one.
Lord General Astrid raised his chin in all his brilliance.
"I've sent two emissaries, my Lords. To princess Yelhena's funeral."
"Two emissaries?"
"Yes, my lords. The second cook and some other guy we found cleaning the embassy floors."
"Are you sure that's a good plan? Is it going to work?"
"With all due respect, I'm quite sure they're going to fuck up, my Lords."
"We'll see, Lord Astrid, we'll see..."
|
"What was that?"
"What was what?"
Pace watched as the emissary palmed her forehead in thought. She sat up, took a sip of wine, and looked at him before slowly dissecting the issue..
"I feel like I don't need to go over the obvious differences in cultures at this stage of our time together. So I'll get right to it. Why did you laugh?"
Pace smirked a little. But didn't laugh. Neither did she or the armed guard surrounding them.
"...I mean, I didn't mean to." He winced.
She stood up. Took another sip, rolled her head and glared at him.
"But you did. You laughed at the dead princess. You know, one of the heirs to the throne? Of the kingdom of Jaianeta? You know, the place we CURRENTLY RESIDE IN?!"
The echo of that bounced down the halls. Even the royal family heard it. They just had no clue what end of the building it came from.
"Calm down." He promised. "It was a mistake. I didn't mean to laugh at the dead princess. It's just-"
"-What? What was it?" She inquired.
"-Just that 547 years is a long time." He snickered.
She smacked the desk with a practiced hand. The funeral dress she wore swayed with the hit.
"For me and you." She corrected. "Elves live for thousands of years. Thousands!"
"...Well not that one."
"Oh good God."
"What'd I say this time?"
If she could hit him, she would. She considered letting one of their soldiers hit him. But that wouldn't be respectful.
"Are you stupid, or is being an asshole fashionable this time of year?"
"Maria-" He stopped as one of the guards clicked the safety off his sidearm. "Miss Isidora. I didn't mean to laugh at the funeral. It was wrong of me and uncouth to do so."
"It's like laughing at a funeral for a child. I really don't know how that got past you."
"If I can explain, I was okay, until they said she had so much more life to live. As if a hundred generations isn't long enough."
She cursed under her breath before looking around at the guards.
"Okay. Kiran, fetch me some cleaning supplies?" She ordered.
"For wha-"
"Don't. Just, stay." Maria ordered Pace. The other guards made sure of that.
Kiran returned with a bucket and a mop. And a rather large pair of rubber gloves. In the bucket sat a bottle of bleach, and he had another in his hands. The marble floor, however, was spotless.
"What's... Um..." Pace began to shuffle in place. "What's that for?"
"Kiran, if you please?" Maria ordered.
The guard nodded and began walking briskly over to Pace, who was now considering if he should try to run or not. He shut his eyes awaiting Kiran grabbing him, or worse. But the pair of gloves simply bounced off his shoulder and flopped to the floor. Maria had stood up to finish her glass of wine. She calmly rounded her desk and walked over to Pace and the gloves.
"I know you're a highly recommended assistant and that you have been quite useful to me in the past. But you must understand the grave nature you may have possibly put our relationship with this kingdom in." She delivered. "We must be delicate."
"Okay? What's that mean?"
"You're on shit detail." She simplified. "Mop the floors. Clean the bathrooms."
"What about the report?"
"You're not my only assistant." Maria explained. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to try and salvage this. The Hikan ambassador is due to visit. Lord only knows what you'd say to a dragon at their funeral. Gentlemen."
She snapped her fingers, passed Pace her glass and strolled away. The rest of the entourage did the same, leaving him alone in the makeshift office. A large shadow swooped by one of the windows of the castle as he began mopping the floor.
"...It's not even messy in here." He muttered to himself.
---
r/Jamaican_Dynamite
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lv27cu7
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lv1umq7
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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?"
"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?"
"Messy? Nimble? Lad. To get through this grid you'd have to be in extraordinary physical condition and wearing extremely tight clothing in order to pull off feats of acrobatics. Now, did you also notice the security camera grid? Now that's an impenetrable coverage, not an inch of this hallway is out of sight."
"So this is for voyeurism?"
"Yep. It's hilarious. Because remember, an intruder would have to get IN, grab the item being secured, then get OUT the same way and boy is it great to watch them try. The looks of hope and determination on their faces, the revealing clothing, it's great. And tell me, have you ever tried to actually pick up the secured container?"
"The briefca...oh. Pressure plate under it, and so the alarm gets set off when they move it, I take it?"
"Ha! Not at all, although it would be easy to build that into the stupid plinth it is on."
"GPS tracker, then?"
"No, no, but you're close. It is definitely something IN the case. Go on, try it."
"Uhhhh... paint pack? Handle taser?
"Try it! I assure you nothing will spray, bite, stab, shoot, or shock you."
"Ok I WHOOOMPH!"
"Fifty pounds of lead weights sewn into the lining. Why did you think Brutus is the only guard allowed to take it upstairs, that meathead is the only one of us that can pick it up without changing expression and making it obvious to enemy spies. That's why they can get in but not out."
|
\[Zero Insight\]
"Why do we make laser grids like these?" Mateo asked. He was freshly certified and assisting Lou in finishing up an installation for his first job. Watching, and handing over tools didn't require a lot of thinking and he searched for questions to make conversation with the older man.ย
"What do you mean?" Lou asked as he tightened each screw for a final time. They Stood in a narrow, mirror-polished hallway affixing laser emitters to both sides of the walls.ย
"I mean instead of a messy random arrangement of lasers that a nimble intruder might be able to jump through...," Mateo pointed out the assortment of emitters lining the length of the hall in random spots. "...why not a simple grid wall with no gaps large enough to allow a person to pass through?"ย
"Newbies...," Lou shook his head with a chuckle as he took a few steps toward the exit and started tightening the next set. Mateo followed close behind carrying the toolbox. They were essentially done, all the emitters worked when powered on and the Lou's process was to tighten everything on the way out. As he raised the screwdriver, he used it to gesture at the security door behind them.ย
"Do you know what's in there?" he asked.ย
"No, why would I?" Mateo shook his head. He was genuinely puzzled by the question. He didn't even know that house existed until he joined Lou that day. But, the older man had started the process a few days before and Mateo thought Lou might know. "What are they guarding?" he asked.ย
"No idea," Lou shrugged with a smirk. "That's the point. We work for Sharp Security. We aren't guarding anything, our job is to install," he said.ย
"But, wouldn't it be better for business if we offered better security?" Mateo asked.ย
"How do you know we didn't?" Lou chuckled and moved on to the next set.ย
"What? Because we're still installing a messy grid," he answered. Mateo wasn't trying to be antagonistic, he was trying to understand. And, luckily, Lou had enough experience to see his curiosity for what it was.ย
"Uhuh," Lou nodded. "I know I wasn't in that sales call. I just showed up and got orders, same as you. We don't know what packages were offered, or what the clients refused; our job is to install," he reiterated.ย
"But... why wouldn't they get the best, most impenetrable system?" Mateo asked.ย
"Could be lots of reasons," Lou shrugged. "People have different perspectives; and, maybe this is all they need for whatever is behind that door. Or maybe it was just all they could afford, we're not the sales team. So, we don't know."ย
"Yeah, I guess...," Mateo nodded. He finally glimpsed enough of Lou's point to start considering it. "...I just think with Sharp Development's resources we could be offering better systems even as a low-priced baseline." He spent a few days getting multiverse-oriented before actually being given a job. Sharp Development, the owners of Sharp Security, was a multiversal corporation and Mateo had seen things in the last few days that he never even dreamed about.ย
"Yeah, probably," Lou nodded with a smirk as he gave Mateo the screwdriver to put away. They were done now and headed toward the door. "But, if we gave everyone impenetrable systems... they wouldn't hire Sharp Security every few years for an upgrade."
\*\*\* Thank you for reading! Iโm responding to prompts every day. This is story #2481 in a row. (Story #307 in year seven). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place in my universe.
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jhfecax
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jhf7kr5
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[WP] Your fairy godmother is very strange. She dresses in black and red, never takes off her mask, and uses scary magic. However, she genuinely does love you and teaches you what she knows.
|
"Good morning, Godmother!" the boy cheered as he entered the living room. "What have you got there?"
"๐๐ท๐ด-๐ท๐ด๐ฐ๐๐-๐พ๐ต-๐ฐ-๐ณ๐ด๐ด๐," Godmother clicked back. Much like her movement, each word was said in a burst of speed sometimes hard to understand, but undeniably efficient.
"Oh, neat!" the boy said excitedly. "Can I see?"
"๐ฝ๐พ๐-๐ฑ๐ด-๐ต๐พ๐๐ด-๐ฑ๐๐ด๐ฐ๐บ-๐ต๐ฐ๐๐," she said sternly and within several clicks produced a bowl of oatmeal decorated with slices of strawberries placed into a shape of a smiley face. "THERE-YOU-GO."
"Thanks, Godmother!" the boy said and dug in; it was expertly crafted to be as healthy as it was delicious. The boy could never get tired of such a feast.
"Bhat-ar-yu-"
"๐๐๐ฐ-๐ป๐ป๐พ๐-๐ต๐ธ๐๐๐-๐ท๐พ-๐ฝ๐ด๐," Godmother, for the lack of a better word, smiled. Her ever-present ceramic mask hid any and all emotions on her face, though the boy learned long ago to discern the slightest tilts of her head. He did ask her, once, why she always wore the mask. When she responded "๐๐ท๐ฐ๐-๐ผ๐ฐ๐๐บ?" he decided not to pry further.
"What are you doing with a heart?" the boy asked and ate another spoonful.
"๐๐ธ-๐๐-๐ฐ๐ป," she responded. "๐ธ-๐น๐๐๐-๐ฝ๐ด๐ด๐ณ-๐พ๐ฝ๐ด-๐ผ๐พ๐๐ด..."
She turned and clicked towards a cupboard on the other side of the room. The movement was the opposite of smooth or fluid - she stood still but with each... *tick* appeared in the next stage of what a normal person would achieve through normal movement. Despite this, her crimson cape still flowed behind her as if the air was hitting it mid-walk.
Retrieving an opaque glass jar from the cupboard, she came back to the table where the boy was carefully inspecting the heart.
"๐๐ท๐ธ๐-๐ธ๐-๐ฐ-๐ฑ๐ธ๐ฝ-๐ณ๐ธ๐ฝ๐ถ-๐๐ธ๐-๐๐ฐ๐ป," she explained. "๐๐พ-๐๐ท๐ฐ๐-๐ธ๐-๐ธ๐ฝ-๐๐ท๐ธ๐-๐น๐ฐ๐?" she asked.
The boy furrowed his eyebrows as delved deep into thought.
"Is it... hmm... ground oxilyme?" he answered carefully. Godmother tilted her head into a smile.
"๐
๐ด-๐๐-๐ถ๐พ๐พ๐ณ-๐ท๐พ-๐ฝ๐ด๐," she chirped. The boy's victorious gasp was interrupted by the ring of the doorbell.
"๐๐ท๐ฐ๐-๐๐ธ๐ป๐ป-๐ฑ๐ด-๐๐พ๐๐-๐ต๐ฐ-๐๐ท๐ด๐. ๐๐ด๐ฐ-๐ณ๐-๐ต๐พ๐-๐๐ฒ๐ท๐พ๐พ๐ป?"
"Yes, Godmother," the boy said and hastily wolfed down the rest of his oatmeal before grabbing his bag and running to the door. Godmother followed.
The boy opened the door and hugged his father tightly.
"Hi, Dad!"
"Hey, sport," the man smiled. Seeing Godmother walk into the doorframe, he bowed deeply.
"Thank you, o' Ancient One, for looking after-"
"๐ฟ๐ท๐ธ-๐ป๐ธ๐ฟ-๐ฟ๐ป๐ด-๐ฐ๐๐ด," she responded warmly. "๐ฐ-๐ฝ๐-๐๐ธ๐ผ๐ด. ๐ธ-๐ด๐ฝ-๐น๐พ๐-๐ผ๐-๐๐ธ๐ผ๐ด-๐๐ธ๐๐ท-๐ป๐-๐ฒ๐ฐ๐,๐๐ธ-๐๐-๐ฐ๐ป-๐พ๐-๐ฝ๐พ๐," she said, referring to the blood ritual that bound her to the boy as his Godmother.
The boy turned and went to hug his Godmother. Her arms clicked into a tight hug back.
"๐๐ท๐ด๐ฝ-๐๐พ๐-๐ฒ๐พ๐ผ๐ด-๐ฑ๐ฐ๐ฒ๐บ,๐๐ด-๐๐ธ๐ป๐ป-๐ฑ๐ธ๐ฝ๐ณ-๐๐ท๐ด-๐ณ๐ด-๐ผ๐พ๐ฝ-๐๐พ-๐ถ๐ด-๐๐ท๐ด๐."
"Thanks, Godmother!" the boy cheered. "You're the best!"
The boy and his father turned and walked towards the car parked in the driveaway, with the boy casting one last look at his beloved, eldritch caretaker.
His **๐๐ค๐**mother.
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11711
1C'mon little Fairy Princess," Daddy yelled, "This is our new home!" And he pulled open the bad doors of the small moving van.
"There's nothing 'New,' about it." Mommy grumbled as she unbuckled and helped Ashley out of the van.
"Hey how many people get to inherit a 1600's manor in Ireland?" Daddy playfully replied with just the smallest hint of irritation coming thro1ugh his tone.
Ashley's feet touched the wild grassy ground and she felt a sudden surge of energy. Like she was waking up from a 9 year old's long sleep and was keenly aware of the world around her. Her eyes darted over the place. The grass was wild and unkempt, scraggly bushes lined an old cobblestone road that led away from the main route to this little bubble of living area surrounded by lush green forest that quickly became dark as night under the canopy of trees.
"We should have just sold the place," Mommy snapped back, "You do realize this is how, like, 90% of horror movies start right? Small white family moving to the middle of fu.... AHEM nowhere."
"You're Creole," Daddy teased, "so that means we're the first family to run away when the ghosts and goblins start causing trouble."
Ashley had started walking up to the main house. It seemed short compared to the tall ceilinged McMansions of suburban Utah, and it was chilly and humid here in June instead of hot and dry. The building had five rooms with an open floor plan. The walls were yellow painted wattle and daub over stone, which peaked through cracks in the coating making the building look much older than it was. Over the top was a thatched roof complete with a Thatcher's pattern from further away County Cork.
Around the main court yard was a small modern looking garage, another small two roomed modern house and aways back over the treeline were two smallish hills and a third large promontory with the ruins of a castle on it.
Behind the house stood an old barn, nestled back near the treeline.
"Go on and explore Honey and pick out your room!"
********
The inside of the house turned out to be quite cozy. Polished wood floors and a main living room and kitchen area gave the place a lot of space. A plush couch and surrounding seats gathered around a fireplace and electric light sconces designed to look like candles lit the inside.
Mommy and Daddy both had on sweaters while Mommy and Ashley finished up their dinner and Daddy got a fire lit. He'd only been at it a short time but already had a small fire that was drawing smoke in lazy curly ques up the chimney.
"Well then," Mommy said playfully as she and Ashley finished up the last of the dinner dishes, "Looks like there's something you can do right after all."
Daddy blushed a bit, as Ashley watched their interactions intently. "Well, you know. It's good to have an eagle scout in the family."
Mommy and Daddy cuddled up on the couch in front of the fire, and Mommy gave Daddy a big kiss.
Ashley relaxed. It was good to see Mommy and Daddy be so happy. She hadn't seen that for a long time.
They chit chatted about the property, surrounding forest, and towns but Ashley wasn't interested. It had been a big day of moving and her eyes were pulling themselves shut.
She blinked and found herself in an old cast iron bed with a pillowy mattress and under a soft cotton sheet and heavy afghan.
"Good night sweet heart," Daddy said.
"Sweet dreams kiddo," Mommy said and they closed the door.
********
"Mommy, do I have to go to bed?"
"Yes honey," Mommy said, "The Midsummer Festival is still going, and it was fun, but it's time for bed."
"Bud Daddy," Ashley whispered in a quite panic, "It's scary in there!!"
"Now you know there's no such things as ghosts or monsters kiddo." Daddy said shortly. "You're 9. You're too old to do things like this to stay up at night.
Daddy shifted Ashley's weight to his left arm while Mommy opened the front door of the cottage, and they went inside. They immediatly took Ashley into her room and helped her out of her festival dress and into pajamas for the night.
"Just listen, PLEASE! The closet door..."
"Is just loose," Mommy said shortly, "It's time for bed. Mommy and Daddy are tired."
"No You're Not! You just wanna hump!" Ashley half shouted angrilly.
Mommy and Daddy split laughing, "Yeah Honey we do, but that doesn't change the fact that it's bed time." Said Daddy.
Ashley climbed gingerly into the bed and immediatly pulled the covers up to her chin.
"Good night," Mommy said as she and Daddy left to their own room and closed the bedroom door.
Her hands and feet started shaking in fear and she curled up her toes, and balled her hands into fists. Eyes locked on the closet door. Waiting for the slightest twitch of movement. But her eyes were so heavy... so heavy...
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j8bguxt
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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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*"Ah, I see that Loktarr had an eventful evening"*
The statement from Sullivan had the party following his gaze to the three battered, bruised and groaning individuals currently hanging by thier ankles from the Inn's gatehouse. Peering into the early-morning gloom of the stable, they found their token-barbarian, Loktarr; grooming down one of the horses.
*"Thieves with a taste for horse-flesh"*
Loktarr said matter-of-factly;
*"Figured you prefer I didnt gut them this time"*
Sullivan nodded with a condescending smile;
*"Very good Loktarr, after the trouble we had last time; it's good to that you are learning how to behave"*
The look Loktarr gave him set a chill through his body that had little to do with the crisp morning air.
*"Learning? You call that learning? When the wolf goes rogue and starts to prey on the children; you don't give it a hiding and let it go - you hunt it down, skin it and wear the fur to warn the others."*
He shook his head and spat on the straw stable floor;
*"Those men didnt "learn", all they "learned" here is that OUR horses aren't to be touched. When we go, they will be back. Thieves never "learn", they just keep stealing"*
There was a gentle but meaningful cough from the back of the group.
*"Yes I mean you too Drazzt; if we didnt have you with us..."*
He nodded meaningfully toward the gatehouse.
*"But seeing-as we are talking about "learning", lets talk about the trip. Not ONE of you bothered to arrange extra feed for the horses, let-alone yourselves last night; and we have a five-day trip crossing the wildlands."*
Uncertainty filled the group; Tannis the bard spoke up;
*"What do you mean Loktarr?"*
Loktarr grinned evilly;
*"Well, unless someone built an inn out there in the last year, you all will need to "learn" how to smell the wind, "learn" how to track small game..."*
He shot a hard glare at Sullivan;
*"You could say that you will need to "Learn to behave"*
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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?โ
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!โ 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?โ 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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j8bjcez
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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.
|
Trisra, the Elven Wizard made a joke. "The instructions are so simple that even Bonan could do it," she giggled. The fighter, Thomas was laughing with her, and they were both looking over at Bonan.
Bonan shook his head. "I may not be as smart as Trisra, but I'm hardly an idiot. And what are you laughing at, Thomas? You're not a spellcaster either, what makes you think you're smarter than me? I get the wizard laughing at me, but you?" Thomas shrugged. "I don't know, I mean at least I can read, man."
Bonan sighed. The literacy issue was always dogging him. People always underestimated his intelligence because of the fact that he had never been taught to read. It just wasn't a skill that anyone in his culture had developed. Suddenly, Bonan had an idea. "So, tell me. Do any of you know how to skin an animal and make armor from the pelt? Do you know which local plants are edible? Do you even know how to tell which direction you're facing without a compass?" All three of them shook their heads. Thomas put a finger to his chin. "Well, no, but we have tools or books to help with most of those things, and we use armor far more durable than anything that could be made from a beast's hide. I can appreciate that you have a strong memory and survival skills, but let's face it, Bonan. Your tribe is behind the times. It's not your fault."
Bonan shook his head. "Sure, my tribe may be a little off the beaten path, but being raised that way doesn't make me an idiot. I can learn things." Trisra tilted her head. "Really? I'll believe that when I see it." She clicked her tongue as if she thought this was just another barbarian boast with no basis in reality.
Bonan finally made up his mind. He was going to seek training in town and take a level in Rogue. If for no other reason, to prove that he could adapt to urban life as well as any of the rest of them.
|
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?โ
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!โ 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?โ 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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j2pr8j8
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j2o761r
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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: โPress the button. NOW!!โ
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Easiest job in the world.
David knew he had the easiest job in the world - all he had to do was sit in a room for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. It was practically free money! Of course, there was one condition.
Do not press the red button. It was what his supervisor told him when he started working here, what his workmates told him every day, there's even posters on the wall giving him a constant reminder.
It was November 3rd when David worked his final shift. He was sitting in the room, as usual, until the phone started to ring.
"Weird," he thought to himself, "I never noticed that was there."
He walked over to the corner and picked up the phone.
"Hello? Is this David Smith?"
"Yes, who am I speaking to?"
"That's not important right now, I just need you to push that red button."
David paused. He looked at the glowing red button in the middle of the room.
"I'm afraid I can't do that. It's my job not to."
"David, this is more important than your job. You need to press the button."
"I can't."
"You have to."
"I don-- what does it even do?"
Silence.
"I'm afraid if I tell you then you won't press it."
"Well that's not very reassuring, is it?"
"David, please, you need to press it. Trust me."
"Trust you? I don't know who you are!"
"Millions, billions of lives are at stake here. You need to press the button."
"I... I need to talk to my supervisor."
"Is he with you in the room?"
"No, he's just--"
"For God's sake, do not leave that room."
Silence.
"Why?"
Silence.
"Excuse me sir, why can't I leave my room."
David stared at the button again. He was just about to hang up the phone before he heard a faint, calm voice.
"False alarm. Everything's fine, carry on."
David was relieved. That solved itself quickly. As he thought before, easiest job in the world.
"So I don't have to press the button?"
"No."
"I can safely leave the room?"
"Yes. I encourage it!"
"Phew. That's a relief. Just out of curiousity... what does that red button do?"
Silence again.
"I don't know. No one knows, really."
David laughs, but then thinks to himself for a moment.
"Sir, you were just saying that you wouldn't tell me because I wouldn't press the button if I did know, byt now you're telling me you don't know?"
"A white lie. But as I said before, false alarm."
"You said billions of lives were at stake."
"What I meant by that was--"
"Sir, who are you?"
...
"David, do not press that red button."
"Go to hell."
--------------------
This is my first time doing one of these btw, let me know where I need improvement.
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โIโm sorry, but Iโm not allowed to.โ
โThe fate of the world is at stake!โ The voice sounds honest enough, but then Iโm a terrible judge of character. Maybe I can get some information out of this guy.
โThen give me your badge number.โ
โNine eight five three six eight eleven decka one!โ came the anxious response.
โSecurity clearance?โ
โAlpha alpha beta!โ
โThe operations unique forty-two and a half digit alphanumeric identification code?โ
โD R G Z 2 H 5โ waitโฆ forty-two and a half?โ The voice said. โJUST PUSH THE [redacted] BUTTON!โ
โOkayโฆโ
โHURRY UP INโ Aah! you pushed it!โ
***
I may come back in add some more later. For now check out some of my [other stories](https://www.reddit.com/user/Matthew-IP-7/comments/ww45tq/a_list_of_all_the_stories_ive_written_that_can_be/).
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