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joozf7p
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joor3i9
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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 move…and with groan you take a step.
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_Just move. Just fucking move!_
That was all that he could think for years. No, decades. The last time he ever moved was when he was with the hero's party. He had saved the hero herself by jumping in front of a devastating petrification spell, turning him completely to stone, yet conscious of the world around him. The hero and her party had assumed he had died and left him there. Alone. In the darkness of a ruined dungeon. For decades.
The monsters slowly retreated and plant growth formed along the ruins, once corrupted by dark tendrils of black magic and evil monstrocities. Birds and smaller animals began making their homes in the ruins, but would always make a point to respectfully leave the statue of the warrior alone. As if they knew. Over the years, the ground would shift and turn, turning the ancient ruins of the city into a thriving forest, teeming with life.
But the warrior was left alone. To himself. In the darkest parts of the forests. Where he stood in what was left of that dungeon, unable to move, cry, scream, but alive. It was a different kind of hell, one that the warrior would never wish on anyone.
Decades passed and a town began to form nearby. The land was plentiful and the bounty rich. It was around that time where a young girl with familiar eyes gazed upon the statue of the warrior. The one who saved the hero now was meeting her descendent. Upon discovering the statue, she placed a hand and smiled, unaware of the warrior's screams for help, silent to all but his blasted mind. The golden eyes, hardened with purpose, of the hero were mirrored in the curious golden eyes of the young girl, who ran and came with what presumably looked like her father, a man with golden eyes that had seen a hard living, though not as hard as the hero ever did. Within days, the warrior was taken from the dark pits of the ruined dungeon and erected in the center of this town, hailed as their guardian spirit. For the first time, the warrior was surrounded by people again, and though they could not hear him, he was thankful that he was amongst people once more.
Over the next few years, the town grew and prospered. The little girl with golden eyes grew too. She and her friends always played around the warrior, throwing homemade wreaths onto his head, leaving toys as gifts and climbing all over his visage. To know that the children felt safe near him... that made him happy that he had a purpose again.
Of course, as always, happy times do not last.
The air was thick with smoke as fires erupted in the sky. The warrior watched with horror as an army of humans, led by a member of the Holy Church, began to torch the town, claiming the "evils of infidels must be purged." That little girl ran to the statue as three soldiers chased her and climbed to the top.
And in that moment, the warrior felt an unusual magic from the girl. And in the next, he began to feel the stone around him... crumble.
One of the soldiers was about to grab the girl, licking his lips in a sick fashion. The other soldiers were cackling about "making her a woman." But within that instant, the soldier's arm was hewn, flying off his shoulder. The soldier screamed in agony as the others immediately backed off, terrified of this new threat.
His blade erupted with true holy fire, his arm free. With a massive groan, he took his first step. The stone that had been his prison crumbled, allowing him to breathe and move for the first time in nearly 2 centuries. The little girl was shocked as she looked up at the visage of the warrior, cloak burrowing in the fiery wind, blade coursing with true holy power, as his armor gleamed in the fiirelight. His long hair, though matted, was flowing like golden hay, his eyes a piercing blue as he stared daggers into this army. The leader roared and pointed his fake holy blade at the warrior, who took another step, that step breaking the literal stone of his pedestal. With a swing, he took off the heads of two more as his shield blocked a volley aimed at the golden-eyed child.
He took another step. And another. He picked up the girl and held her in his arm as he stared at this army. This town and this little girl made him this town's protector. And may the gods help any who would cross the path of the Hero's Battlemagus, Byram Welkandyr.
Raising his blade, eyes blazing with fury, he spoke for the first time in almost 2 centuries. It echoed across the burning town:
"This is MY town. Leave. Or die."
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A gorgon. We killed insane drakes and wild necromancers. We sought the greatest adventures and battles to test our mettle; to challenge ourselves, overcome adversity, and to become modern legends. A DAMNED GORGON?
Honestly, it was hubris that did me in. Arrogance to the highest degree. Twenty-seven years has passed since that day. I sit as a decorative piece in the middle of the square of the town my team built in honor of the dream we shared. The town of Raven's Thorn grew around me. It started as an adventure's hub, yet became a true bustling town on its way to growing into a metropolis. My companions tried for years to undo the gorgon's insidious curse, all for not they believed.
They still came and visited me. I watched them come back from adventures and they would immediately come and tell me about them. They eventually killed Silonecinos the mad dragon the plagued the upper reaches of the Oranian mointians. They tracked down the gorgon that turned me and butchered it before me. I watched them age. Eventually they stopped coming by to see me as often as managing a town takes a lot of effort. Last i saw them they were in they're early fifties and had come and said they were retiring.
I drift in and out of consciousness. Years will go by and I had slept them away. I wondered why i wasn't allowed to just go insane sometimes. Then other adventurers started coming and, following the tradition started by the founders, telling me the stories of their deeds. I listened intently and even though they could not hear me i was a very enthused listener. I watched them grow into their power and too grow old and be replaced by the new generation.
"What's that?" I think to myself.
Then over the hill that is slightly to the right part of my sightline I see troops cresting the top. They wear a deep red platemail and blood red leathers. I see the crest of the Cult of the Cursed Blood Shadow and my being is enraged. Those monsters still walk this ground and i was unaware? Why did they have the ability to grow in power once again. My teammates are strong even now in their middle age but most adventurers never have to know they're names let alone fight them.
Suddenly, i hear cracking sounds. I feel my fists clench. Then i hear my heartbeat for the first time in twenty-seven years, and its racing. More cracking sounds as i take a step. Stone hitting stone as a shell of rock is crumbling off me. After all the experts, fakes, and money my friends wasted trying to cure me all it took was my unadulterated rage to break the spell. I unhook my bladed staff from my back and begin the grueling task of cleaning up my mistake of letting even one of these bastards breathe the air of this world.
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j7lec7m
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j7le3ik
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[WP] Your planet has finally achieved FTL travel and is being welcomed into the galactic community. However the species selected to guide your people through this process is a terrifying and warlike predator species called....humans.
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"Welcome to the GC! Congratulations, l'il fellas!" the human ambassador bellowed, baring it's teeth. Zyro cringed for a moment, but then recalled the information briefing they'd recieved from the Galactic Confederation: among the large -- and apparently loud -- predator species, this was a friendly gesture.
"Th-thank you!" Zyro squeaked.
The human delegation responded with a sudden artillery barrage that sent Zyro and his fellow Sinaxorites scrambling for cover.
"Ha!" the human barked. "Sorry, somebody must have jumped the gun! Those are harmless -- we call them 'fireworks', and they're used for celebration."
Zyro blinked, as he hesitantly raised his head. "You...celebrate by firing *explosive ordnance?* And by, er, did you say you jump over guns?"
The ambassador laughed. "Nah, son. That's just an idiom that means acting too early -- guess it didn't translate. We have been known to celebrate like *this,* though."
The human drew his side arm, and rapidly discharged it into the air, while letting out a prolonged high pitched shriek that sounded like "yee haw", as Zyro stared in horror.
The human bared it's teeth again, and offered the weapon to Zyro. "You wanna try?" Zyro found he wasnt quite able to speak, in the moment, so he shook his head rapidly, which he'd been told indicated a negative.
"Alright then." the human said, twirling his loaded gun on a finger, before using it to carelessly gesture towards his spacecraft. "Right this way, then, we'll get your first contact briefing started."
Zyro swallowed hard, hesitantly falling into step beside the human, then struggling to keep up, as the ambassador made no allowance for his species' much shorter stride.
"We are...eager to learn more about this Galactic Confederation." Zyro said, hesitantly.
The human snorted, and then spat a glob of mucus and saliva on the ground. "Buncha assholes, s'what they are."
Zyro blinked. "You liken them to..an anal orifice? Another idiom?"
The human barked again, "Ha! Anal is right -- interstellar busybodies with yottabytes of stupid rules and regulations for every damn thing."
"But, are you not their representative?" Zyro queried.
"Yeah -- not like we had a choice. Every member has to take a turn at first contact to foster diverse representation of the Galactic community and blah blah bullshit blah-de-blah." the ambassador said, with a wave of his hand. "They practically bully you into joining, the second they detect an FTL signature from you, and then lay all their rules on you like you're supposed to give a shit. We'd tell 'em to shove it up their pompous asses if it weren't for the trading opportunities -- buncha monopolistic horseshit."
"I see." Zyro said, uncertainly.
"Well, here she is." the ambassador announced, as they reached his vessel, which was terrifyingly heavily armed. "We commissioned her especially for this mission."
"It, er...*she* is...lovely." Zyro said, eyeing the landed battlecruiser uncertainly.
The human accepted the compliment with a curt nod. "We named her after one of our ancient cultural traditions: welcome aboard the *USES Malicious Compliance!"*
|
“Why us?” Wren asked her boss, Underambassador Sanchez, as they suited up.
“You were next on the duty roster,” Sanchez said dryly, checking his air supply. This species was oceanic, and the next meeting would take place in one of the liquid methane pools of GalCom One.
“You know what I mean, boss. Why humans. Why in person? I mean, even humans are scared of other humans. Wouldn’t a remote put them more at ease?” Wren had done her first tour entirely by remote, her body asleep in an orbital embassy pod while her mind soared across the gas storms of the Karee homeworld alongside their capital-flock.
“Because they’re joining the Galactic Commons, and they need to get used to species that look different,” Sanchez said.
“The Karee look different,” Wren pressed.
Sanchez sighed. He came around and checked the sealings on the back of her suit. “Remember the Nnn?” he asked quietly.
Wren nodded hesitantly. The Human Volunteers had taken the lead in putting down the Nnn Emergency not long after the exodus. It was still controversial, but mostly nobody talked about it. Nobody liked to remember the Nnn.
“The GalCom wants to send a message,” Sanchez continued. “*See those rabid predators? Aren’t you glad we’re holding their leash?* That’s why us.” He tapped the back of her suit.
“Understood, sir,” Wren said. She gave her most diplomatic smile: wide, open, showing two rows of sharp omnivorous teeth. “Let’s go welcome them.”
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mft93vg
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mfsxhv0
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[WP] At a meeting for professors of the health sciences, you are overjoyed to learn that you've been given an enormous grant to continue your research. As you leave, a terrifyingly large man grabs your shoulder and says, "Hi, I'm Grant. What can I help you with?"
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"No, I mean I'm forbidden to fight that paladin," the warlock said. "Our respective divines have a nonaggression pact."
"Divine!? You're a servant of Blorphanx the Inscrutable! How the hell is that... thing a divine?" Dave, The bard had quite the vocal range, and he was near the top.
"I'm going to choose to ignore your obvious blasphemy for now," the warlock replied, "Blorphanx forgive me."
The heavily armed and armored Paladin started walking over. The Symbol of Divine Justice emblazoned on their breastplate seemed to glow in the dimly lit tavern.
"Uhhh... Gerglux, if he throws down, you are gonna at least buff us, right?" Jimothy, The rogue asked of their warlock ally.
"Hmmm...." Gerglux, the warlock of Blorphanx, stroked his wispy beard in thought, "I think that if you were to take an aggressive action while wielding my empowerment spell that his god might see it as a sign of disrespect. So... no."
The paladin was almost close enough now to hear their conversation.
"GERGLUX!" Her voice boomed from within her heavy plate mail.
The bard went from scared to scaroused. "Wait? The paladin is a woman?"
"Down boy," Gerglux put a hand on his bardic buddy, "Your pelvis bones would be destroyed in an instant."
She joined their table, uninvited. "Gerglux. Gerglux's goons."
"Goons!?" Dave was offended, but Jimothy just nodded, they knew their job was goon.
"Silence, Bard." Gerglux and the Paladin said at the same time. Both had whispered magic into their words, and the bard suddenly found himself unable to make a sound. The divine and eldritch magics when combined were quite unbreakable.
The paladin flipped up her visor, revealing a scarred, but beautiful face, and a few errant strands of red hair. The bard silently pounded his fist into the table.
"So..." Gerglux started.
"I'm here about the blackmire orb. Did you take it?" She didn't waste time or mince words.
"Yes."
"Can I have it? It is dangerous, and should be sealed away."
"No."
"Wizard-Ninja-Bear for it?"
"Sure."
At this point Dave the bard had written down the words "fuck you both!" on a napkin, and silently slapped it down on the table. He meant it differently for each of them.
"What the fuck is Wizard-Ninja-Bear?" Jimothy asked.
The paladin made a gesture as if to say, 'Your goon, you explain.'
"Wizard-Ninja-Bear is the game our divines came up with to resolve conflicts between our respective 'teams' non-aggressively." While Gerglux explained, he conjured up three little illusory shapes on the table, made of smoke.
"The game is simple. Two players are chosen, and they stand back to back. They count down from three, using the words, 'Wizard Ninja Bear' and they they choose one, and assume the position as they turn around."
"Okay." Jimothy was scratching their head, but seemed to be following along.
As he spoke, the little smoke illusions killed one another in the fashion he explained, "Wizard beats Bear, Bear beats Ninja, Ninja beats Wizard."
At this point the paladin spoke. "Wizard is with a single pointed finger, representing their wand. Ninja is partially squatted down, with both hands having all fingers pointed, like a knife-hand, representing their unarmed martial prowess. And Bear is with both hands up above your head, like a big ol' bear, representing... uhh... the bearness."
"Well explained," Gerglux said. "Now, shall we get on with it? Single elim, or best of three?"
"Oh, best of three, for sure." She smiled, breaking the bards heart that she was 'on the other team' morally speaking.
She stood up from the table, and Gerglux joined her. "Dave, could you count us in?"
Dave offered both his middle fingers in response.
"Haha, right." Gerglux laughed to himself for a moment before he said, "Jimothy, could you count us in?"
"Please." Added the paladin, "Once we're back to back, you just say the name of the game."
The warlock and the Paladin put their backs together, and Jimothy the rogue duly said,
"Wizard!
Ninja!
Bear!"
___________
/r/AFrogWroteThis/
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The formatting is pretty off, and it's separated into a few comments because Reddit didn’t let me post it in full, but I appreciate it if you take the time to read my rushed little piece of work. I'm a new writer, so criticism is very, very welcome. I know the short story is, well not that short, and it's very convoluted. So, it would help if you guys could help me out by pointing out things that could be more clear, or just better in general. Thank you so much, and this prompt is awesome!
Trigger warning: Depictions of injury.
“Still bothered by the dress eh?” replied the stout paladin clad in golden-white armor.
When they first began their trek through the forest, Peregrine cared very much for her pitch black dress—she methodically planned each stride while holding up her skirt to ensure that it didn’t get dirty. After all, she spent all of her cut from the Eublipharian extermination on the fashion statement. And, a statement it was. Emphasis on *was*. Through the various encounters in the forest, she was unable to focus on maintaining the cleanliness of her “statement”. By now, the bottom of the dress had accumulated a foul mixture of dirt, mud, and probably the urine of some native species.
“You women are always troubled at the smallest things, huh,” rambled Fivem, the party’s resident dwarf paladin.
“Oh shut it, Fivem. You wouldn’t understand the inner workings of a woman if your little life depended on it.”
The dwarf Fivem softly chuckled at her ruthless retort, but soon grew serious.
“You’ve grown quite the reputation as a sorceress over the years we’ve been together, Peregrine. I sure hope that a scuffed dress won’t cause our demise, ‘specially when we’re right here, at the final battle.”
“Of course not. You know better than anyone how different I am in battle,” she answered coldly.
“I know, just sayin’,” replied the dwarf as he softly rubbed the unsightly burn mark on his arm.
“We’re here,” said Kemrin, cutting the tension with his stern voice as the team made their way to an exit to the forest.
As he led his group forward, Kemrin took it all in; the shiny dewdrops glittered atop the blades of grass, the ceaseless variety of beautiful flora strewn about the field, and the small insects skittering around the ground.
“What a beautiful sight”, he said to his group as he trudged ahead.
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j9smbj5
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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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"The dragon has been slain! All Hail Sir Barkley!" The man was aloft his white horse, a beautiful princess on his back.
"My knight, I am sorry I thought it was time for you to be put out to pasture for your age. The kingdom is in gratitude to you." Sir Barkley bowed.
"Thank you, Your Majesty. It was all part of my job."
"I know you did not ask for retirement, even after I allowed it...thank the Maker you did not. Now, it is time for your just reward."
"...just reward? Your gratitude is enough reward for me, Your Majesty."
"If we don't give you the reward, it flies in the face of my kingdom. PREPARE THE ROYAL WEDDING!"
Sir Barkley was shocked.
"...royal wedding?"
"Yes. You saved my daughter, the princess, and as such you will be betrothed to her!" Sir Barkley looked confused as the king continued.
"...uh, Your Majesty...I've BEEN married! For years! Th-the royal bishop ordained my marriage! You know my wife, she works in the royal kitchen as one of your chefs!" The King looked, then was confused.
"...w-well, why did you save my daughter if you're already married? You amongst all the knights know the rule- you save the princess, you marry the princess!"
"I am one of your finest knights. The princess is in trouble, you can't trust a serious problem for the kingdom to an untrained knight. You need the best knight in the country on the job to handle this. Wo-would you have rather I sent one of the new guys out there? Most of them haven't even been taught how to handle a dragon!"
"Well, we never expected that a married knight would go to save the princess." Sir Barkley shook his head.
"You DO remember Princess Fairmaiden is my Goddaughter, right? I'm not about to let her get captured, I swore an oath to you when you gave me and my wife that honor to protect her with our life! I merely did what you expected of me way back when!" The king nodded.
"I remember that well, Sir Barkley..."
"So, you know why I would go to save her without thinking...and you know why I could never marry her. Even if something happened to my beloved wife...I'm literally old enough to be her father myself. I changed her diapers with the queen, for crying out loud! I cannot possibly think of her as a bride...and I'm sure the princess couldn't think of me as one as well!" Princess Fairmaiden looked sheepishly to the king.
"...yes, Father. I know about the rule of the land, but...he's just too old, I've known him for too long. I can't possibly see him as a husband." The King threw his hands up in exasperation.
"...well, I don't know what happens here. ...oog, this is unprecedented. We've had so many different pairings of knight and royalty, all of which saw the betrothal without a problem, and the law of the land has been used forever...but this is the first time we've had a knight who saved royalty refuse to marry the person they saved. I can't imagine sending Princess Fairmaiden to a convent because she has been rejected."
Both Sir Barkley and Princess Fairmaiden were taken aback.
"A CONVENT?"
"A convent, Your Majesty?" The king looked downwards.
"We cannot go otherwise. If she has been saved by a knight who will not marry her, she must go to a nunnery. It's the rules of the land."
"Oh god..." Sir Barkley shook his head.
"King Lawler, I ask for one request before deciding on this."
"Yes, Sir Barkley."
"...to me, my son, my squire." King Lawler had his pages send to the knights' helm, and finally, a young man headed in.
"Father, what did you need me for?" Sir Barkley looked downwards, then started speaking as if he was badly reading lines.
"Why, I needed my son to be here to find out that I am about to kidnap Princess Fairmaiden! I cannot let her be sent to a nunnery, and so I kidnap her!" Sir Barkley went to his sword, then dropped it. "OH NO! My sword has fallen out of its hilt! I'm sure only someone who has known my style of fighting could defeat me easily!" Sir Barkley winked to his son, who caught on immediately. His son grabbed the sword and swung at Sir Barkley, who fell to his knees.
"I am beaten! The Princess has been saved, and by my own son no less! How could this be..."
King Lawler looked, as Princess Fairmaiden caught on and hugged Sir Barkley.
"Father, the rule is there...I HAVE just been saved by this man..."
King Lawler nodded.
"Let the preparations for the royal wedding begin!" Princess Fairmaiden hugged the squire as they left. King Lawler looked at Sir Barkley.
"...you could have just asked to have your son betrothed to the princess instead..." Sir Barkley looked.
"I am a knight. I serve the land and my King. If the land's laws say that the person who saves the princess must be betrothed to her, then the person who saves the princess will be betrothed to her."
"I understand. You are aware I will have to take you from my knights for this, right?" Sir Barkley nodded.
"You had said it was time for me to retire anyway, right?"
"Aye, my dear friend...or family, is it?" The king and his knight shook hands.
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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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jrtgat4
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jrtekkq
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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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When the first one came for my life, I was surprised to say the least. I want to say he looked like a Terminator but he was just a guy. No one had looked at me with such unadulterated contempt and hate before. Not even my ex.
"You will not live long, scum!" He screamed as the police dragged him. "You will pay for what you did to us. What you did to humanity!"
I stared at him baffled. I had absolutely no idea. At first I thought he must have escaped from the asylum. Maybe this was a psychotic episode. I actually felt bad for the man.
It wasn't until the second one arrived a week later that the suspicion started to take root in my mind. She was a beautiful woman. I knew I had no chance with and yet when she smiled coyly at me, I couldn't help myself. I went to talk to her. That's when she took out the knife. A good Samaritan just happened to walk past and disarmed her.
She too screamed when the police came. "You think you have a blessed life? You are nothing but a curse. You are a blot on humanity."
I was now getting concerned. Maybe I was something despicable. Two people had tried to kill me in two weeks. They must have a reason. I did not posses any significant money nor did I have information about the State's affairs.
Then it must be me.
And isn't that the thought that starts to destroy you. Like rust on iron, it grows and grows until it covers the whole structure and one day the structure gives up- collapses.
I just hoped I don't collapse. I may not have people who depend on me but I also didn't want to be destroyed.
*
I started seeing a therapist after the third one. This one was just a boy. It broke my heart when they had wrench his screaming body away from me. He did get a shot in. My arm was bleeding, knife was embedded deep in my bicep. But there was a numbness spreading inside me. I must be a truly awful person if a boy, who was no older than 15, wanted to kill me.
Something inside me broke that day. I knew I needed help. And if I didn't get it the collateral damage would be too large.
*
"Sir, we think there's a bounty on your head." Detective Conan said.
"Who?" I asked. My voice was hoarse because of disuse. I had stopped leaving my house. The only place I went to was my therapists. I had taken a mental health leave from my work.
"We don't know." Detective Conan said looking slightly ashamed.
I nod. I understood his position. It was not an easy job. They needed concrete evidence and I didn't think that my attackers were cooperating.
"Can I talk to them?" I asked calmly. I just needed a reason. Was it truly me? If it was maybe I could change myself.
He looked uncertain then nodded. "Sure."
*
"Why do you want to kill me?" I looked at each of them. I needed to see the truth in their eyes. I needed to see the hate in their eyes.
A barrage of insults flew at me. Bastard, scum, monster, devil, a few more but I stopped listening. My therapist said to distance myself from toxicity but I needed the truth, what I didn't need was unnecessary curses.
"Who sent you?" I asked calmly.
The boy laughed. "No one sent us. We are here because we know you. The true you."
My self-doubt was rising again but I didn't let it take over me. I knew me. I tried to do the right thing, always have, always will. I didn't deserve this.
"Who?" My voice had an edge to it now and maybe they could tell because their faces changed. A little fear had started to seep into their features.
"We are not from here." The woman snarled. "We are from the time where you destroy everything."
"Time travel." I laughed out loud. "You all-"
"We don't want to talk to this man anymore, officer." The man said.
And then I was left, in the too hard chair, staring at the space my three attackers had occupied. Maybe they were telling the truth. And if they were then I must turn something evil in the future.
That darkness once again started to creep on me and this time I let it.
*
I didn't even try to stop the next attacker. I was ready to embrace the darkness. Why wouldn't I? It had already taken over me. Every good thought I had was now turned against me. All I had were thoughts about how one day I will someday turn so evil that people will jump through time to kill me.
So, I let them.
But fate had other plans because they shot at an innocent woman, her only mistake was that she was standing beside me.
After weeks of darkness I saw a light. A red light of fury filled my being as I screamed and threw myself at my attacker.
That was the last day I counted my attackers. Because that was the last day I doubted myself. I knew I was not the one who turned evil.
Whatever I become from this time forward is because I chose me instead of the version of me they thought me to be.
From that day I decided to become something more than a victim.
I chose to become a fighter. A survivor.
[You can find more of my stories at r/iknowthisischeesy.]
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I looked down at the dead man’s body as I held his identity paper in my hand. I can’t remember how many times this has happened, a stranger apparently from the future has somehow travelled back in time with the specific aim of killing me.
I was done. This was the final straw. One of them killed my mother by mistake when I was a boy and the media tried to blame my poor father. Another came for me when I was in high school, and another after I joined the military. More and more come each year. Fortunately I’m still alive and serving thanks to the skills they taught me in the army.
Sometimes more than one of these people come in a year and I have to kill them. I have killed women as well as men as they’re ranks contain both. It’s me or them and apparently there is no shortage of them in the future.
I didn’t ask for this, but I hoped I could do something about it. My poor old ma, dead before she was 50 because some asshole has a time machine. Why?
I glared down at the futuristic identification card through tears. I missed her. I missed her so much. “These bastards won’t get away with this.” I swore to myself.
As I read the ID I went through all of the details for any information I could use. Name, age, weight, height, nothing ever really helped aside from two of the categories.
The first was the birth date. This was how I discovered they were time travelers. Every single one of these monsters was born after 2350. I assume that’s the year when time travel was invented.
The second category was religion. They all had the same religion which was weird to me at first, but I think now it’s a clue. Knowing this about them gives me an edge. Because it’s a religion that I know because it is in my time too. They have to be descended from people in my time, they just have to be. Perhaps I can save myself, or a version of myself, this utter torment of a life that I have had, being mercilessly hunted by these monsters from the future.
If they want to come for me, let them come. For the rest of my life I expect these monsters to hunt for me, my only chance is to fight back, to reclaim some of my life if it’s the last thing I do. I want revenge. I want them to burn. But I can’t get to them. I can’t travel through time and I don’t know where or how they are organized and how strong they are. It’s one against who knows how many?
I folded the ID card in half and threw it on the deceased man, spitting on him for good measure. I don’t have to go to them.
“You’re ancestors are here somewhere and I’m going to find them.” I said to the dead body. “I’m going to find them and I’m going to kill them because of you.”
Because of all of you, I thought as I turned to walk away.
I stepped out of the alley into the sunlight and held my hand up to shelter my eyes from the glare. My mind was set. I had a plan. I was going to get my revenge for the people who had ruined my life, murdered my mother and stalked my nightmares. They will pay for their crimes, and if not them, then their ancestors. I don’t care anymore. I want payback.
A friend of mine called to me from across the square, noticing I had been missing for a while. As I jogged back to the group another friend spoke.
“What did that guy want Adolf?”
“I don’t know.” I replied.
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m8vol1p
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m8v2pif
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[WP] As a genie you take great pride in deliberately misinterpreting every wish to make it as horrible as possible, but the wish you received today is the first wish that you not only have no idea how to make any worse, but you feel that even just fulfilling it as stated would be going too far.
|
A boy sat cross-legged on the cold ground, clutching the lamp like it was the only thing keeping him upright. He couldn’t have been more than twelve, his face streaked with dirt and tears, his eyes swollen and red. A tiny wisp of a child, he looked like he hadn't eaten in days. His small hands trembled as he looked up at me, his lips pressed tight, like he was trying to hold himself together.
“I wish to never forget my mom’s passing,” he said, his voice quiet but unshakable.
I stared at him, the words hanging in the air like the sharp toll of a bell. For a moment, I said nothing, waiting for the twist to reveal itself. But there was no twist. Just a boy, barely old enough to understand the weight of life.
“I’m starting to forget her,” he said, his voice cracking on the words. He wiped at his face, but the tears kept coming. “I used to remember everything about her. How she’d sing while making pancakes. How she’d brush my hair before school. She had this laugh, like... like a giggle, but warm, you know? It would make you feel like everything was going to be okay.” He sniffled, his words tumbling out faster now.
“But now... I can’t hear it anymore. I can’t picture her face. I try, but it’s all blurry. I can’t remember how her voice sounded when she’d call my name.” He clenched the lamp tighter, his fingers pale. “I don’t want her to go away. She’s already gone, but I don’t want her to \*really\* be gone.”
His voice broke completely then, and he bent over, shoulders shaking as he cried. I felt the familiar temptation to smirk, to twist his wish into some cruel, ironic horror. But this… this wasn’t the kind of wish I could make worse. He already loved her so much that forgetting her felt worse than any punishment I could dream up.
“I don’t care if it hurts,” he said through his sobs. “I don’t care if it makes me sad forever. I already lost my home. My school. My hairbrush. I just don’t want to lose her. I don’t want her to disappear.”
I knelt down, staring at this boy who couldn’t have understood the enormity of what he was asking. Or maybe he did. Maybe he understood it all too well.
I could give him what he wanted. I could burn that memory into his mind so deeply it would feel as though she’d left yesterday. But I knew what it would do to him. He would carry the weight of it, day after day, unable to move on. The memory of her passing wouldn’t just stay. It would grow sharper, more vivid, until it consumed him.
“Are you sure?”
|
Wisher : "I wish, for everyone to experience the pain of testicular torsion every other moment of the day.
Not all the time mind you, just long enough for the the pain to be almost debilitating, then it stops for a random duration of reprieve be it a few minutes or a few hours, only for it to happen again, constantly, forever.
Why the short reprieve? Because if pain is your default state, then the brain ignores it after a while. It needs to be a constant cycle of pain and peace.
Everyday, you wake up to pain, to sleep in pain if you ever get any. Your waking moments haunted by pain so visceral you wish you were dead, and when the pain is gone, you are haunted by the next interval of pain. Never to know when it will happen."
Genie : "God damn, you sicko."
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jyowx96
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jyolu5z
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[WP] "Your total will be...wait this can't be right." The cashier turned around and called the manager over. The manager then quickly shooed the employee away as they took over at the register. "I'm sorry for the delay, we haven't had one of your kind in awhile, your total comes to 3 souls."
|
“Three souls?” inquired the black-cloaked spirit, "This troubles me."
The manager shrugged apologetically, "I know, inflation has affected all of us, but I'm afraid I must insist it is three souls nonetheless."
"Very well," came the raspy voice. "The first I summon is Johannes Vinsburg, a sheep trader who betrayed his family. He opened the gates to the invading forces of Saladin in exchange for a promise of protection and a sack full of silver. That promise did not save him from the knives of his own family when they found out."
From the cracked leather billfold, a wisping mote of light shot out, hissing through the air and past the ears of the manager before landing in the till with a bubbling gurgle. The till rattled and shook but then stabilized.
"The second," the specter said, "is Julianne of the Black Lake. Once the fairest beauty in the entire kingdom, her soul turned to wickedness and murderous intent when she found that her brother had not been lost as thought but had instead transformed into the shape of a beast. His return meant her loss of inheritance and power, so she stole into his room in the night with a vial of poison, tipping it between her brother's lips as he slept. She lived for many decades more, but the people could ken the truth, and she was chased from her lands, living as a witch isolated in the dark forest. Eventually the villages could take no more of her foul deeds, so they burned her cottage to the ground with her still in it."
The second mote of light shot out, this one more green-tinged, and it seemed to be making a shriek far louder than the first before landing in the till.
"And the third and final of these I give to you," the soul of the man known only as Clae, or the Butcher of Kier. This warlord once rode at the head of a mighty army of bandits, stealing from all and murdering those who dared even think to give him anything but what he believed he was due. The blood of thousands stained his sword and his heart, and he was only halted by a courageous bowman within the village of Montris, during what would become the last of his army's attempts to conquer and subjugate the countryside."
The last mote, this one blood-red, shot out. It had a bass rumble that rattled the windows, and it moved slower than the others, almost lazily orbiting around the manager's head and causing his vision to blur as he grimaced. Eventually, it settled down into the till, rattling the entire counter before finally stilling.
Then the till gave a weak little *beep,* and the manager said, "Very well, thank you. Here's your..." He looked down at the bag, "...gallon of milk, half a dozen eggs, and a Snickers bar."
The specter reached out to grasp the paper sack, and one of the handles tore.
"Oh, sorry about that," said the manager apologetically.
Extending a bony, skeletal hand forward, wrapped with wisps of pure time and entropic energy, the ghost spoke.
"I know all and see all. I have witnessed the dawn of man upon this pitiful plane and will be here when the last of you exhales your breath and succumbs to the great nothingness beyond. In this, the whole of my knowledge and the breadth of my understanding, I possess knowledge of all things past, present, and future. I know that you were not responsible for this poor manufacturing, but rather the greed of the supplier of these bags and that if your own leaders in purchasing a low-quality bag. For their thirst for wealth, there shall be fires, screaming, and anguish when their souls seek to escape to the grand nothingness, but are instead punished for their transgressions. But not you, Mortimer Blithely, Manager, esteemed Manager, and child of Liverpool."
The manager nodded, saying, "Yeah, yep, that's right, all right. Well, thank you for coming, Mr.-"
The specter moaned again, rasping out, "I am neither man nor woman, beast nor flesh. I am the shape of the darkness behind that which you dare not look. I am the coming of the end, the wail of the child, the weeping and gnashing of the damned. I am inevitable. For those foolish enough to seek out my name in hopes of my power or my mercy, I am called Frosticarious, Keeper of the Long Doom and Light of the Cursed Star."
"Oh, well, okay, thank you, Mr. Frosticarious. Thank you for your patronage, and we hope you'll come in and get groceries with us again,"
The ghostly specter nodded solemnly, its empty hood blown by an invisible wind, and small particles of grain and grit billowed around it.
"This I shall do, Mortimer of Liverpool, and be marked that I shall be inclined to render judgment on your masters sooner than late should they continue to follow the path of greed over goodwill."
"Yep, I will pass that feedback along. Thank you, sir, again, and you have a good evening." Without another word, the specter floated to the automatic doors, pausing a moment as the doors did not recognize the icy specter floating patiently over the sensor pads.
The associate who had initially been at the checkout crept over and surreptitiously put a foot on the pad, and the door slid open. The specter turned to them and with a billowing gasp of smoke and ash, said, "My thanks for your service, Julian of Liverpool. There will be a small mercy for you before the end, for your end is sooner than you think."
"Wait, *what?"* Julian sputtered as the spirit floated out of the store.
The manager patted them on the back. "Oh, I know, I wouldn't worry about that. He does that to everybody. My guess is his sense of when something dies is all skewed, and since humans all appear very short-lived, he said that to me a couple of times, and that was probably 20 years ago."
Julian sighed, some worry leaving them but still eyed the departing ghost anxiously as it crossed the parking lot.
"So, if you don't let me say Mr. Mortimer, sir: What the *hell* was *that?"*
"Haven't a clue, my lad. Haven't the foggiest clue."
---
Enjoy this tale? Check out r/DarkPrinceLibrary for more stories like it!
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“Shit,” I mumble under my breath. How did they know that I was a soul dealer? Even more perplexing, how did they know the terms of my contract? I have to accept. He must know that I am one of the few soul dealers who are bound by our sacred oath and never fulfilled. I have taken so many steps to conceal myself, new clothes, new vernacular, new eyes, new everything. Fuck. Normally, I would let something like this slide, but I simply have too much on my plate as it is, and this is my hometown. I like it here, and I am not about to leave. I need to send a message.
“Fine, you have yourself a deal. Three souls. No more, no less. You will have them by the end of the week you backhanded creatin.” The cashier obviously has no idea what he has gotten himself into and is just doing his job. I look up and the poor bastard is still just standing in disbelief. I can smell the sweat dripping down his face in the hot store. The AC must be out. “What are you looking at, boy? You mind helping me out,” I bark. He stumbles as he drops my items into the bag, clearly nervous about this whole endeavor.
The lights of the market are glaring, giving me a headache, as I help him cram my purchase into the paper bag. Milk, cheese, yogurt, burger, the usual. Staring at him, I start to see his lifeline. I can see where his pathetic soul, born out of the primordial ooze of the universe, started. I can see all the peaks of his many lifetimes, times of great prosperity and vitality. I can see the valleys. He has many more ahead. Until I reach up, without moving, and clip it with my fingers as if pinching a string.
Grabbing it, I stretch it thinner and thinner until, “snap.” He goes limp at the register falling face-first onto the counter. “Must be the heat, or maybe something he ate” I say to the woman behind me in line. “You might want to call his folks, or maybe 911. I have seen this before; he will probably be all right if he gets cooled off a bit.” Normally, I wouldn’t be so brazen, but they forced my hand.
“Excuse me, manager?” I shout at the ‘gentleman’ over in the produce section. Fucker. He is standing in the one place in the entire store where there is some semblance of cool. As he strides over, I start looking for his lifeline. Exquisite. My body starts to quiver with anticipation seeing just how long his lifeline is. It seems to stretch from the dawn of time to the end of time itself. I have never seen anything like it, and I have seen, and extinguished, gods. “Yes, Mr. … Harvey”, I say glancing at his nametag, hoping I still have some time before he realizes what is going on. I plucked the boy’s lifeline using an old trick that leaves reverberations to cloak the break from higher powers. “Your bag boy seems to have been in the heat a bit too long. Could you please call someone to assist me with these groceries?”
“Not a problem, sir. Natalie! Natalie, come here and help this gentleman to his car with these groceries. I think between the three of us, we can take care of it.” His words lingered in the air as if they were not just spoken but woven outside of reality itself. Reaching out, I couldn’t help but experience unease. I was about to examine Mr. Harvey’s line in more detail, with its swirling colors and seemingly dancing peaks and valleys, as Natalie stepped up to help. Her brunette hair in a tight bun as she quickly hopped over.
“No problem, Boss!” She obviously had more energy, and apparently zero awareness to the circumstances. She grabbed the heavier bags with ease as we exited the store. I didn’t have time to notice the stillness. The lack of sound. I was too busy with my own worries. Stepping up to my car, I turn around and see both Natalie and Mr. Harvey looking at me with apparent sorrow on their faces. “Don’t you recognize your boss, Henry? Or should I say Heinrich?” Mr. Harvey whispered. I should have instantly recognized him. Looking at Natalie, and her lifeline, I could see that hers too, was modulating. Fuck. Soul dealers. And not just any dealers, but the epochs. As I stare at them, I see their ethereal bodies stretch across time and space and grab my lifeline. It is too late; I think to myself. All these years of running, trying to avoid my role in the universe. It all ends here, as I close my eyes.
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ju4xrm3
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ju48jnw
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[WP] You are a werewolf and everyone in the village knows. When its nearing the full moon they all help you baricade yourself in your home since you are the only wheat farmer in town. Everything was fine until some self righteous lord takes over and demands not only your land but your home as well.
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A home is a man's castle. Wether a peasant or a King, this is true. The village of Valune, they called my small, humble mill the Chateau, the most important building they had.
Surrounded by fields of gold, tilled by me and mine since time immemorial.
The fruits of that labour ground into white powder by the power of the wind. Sails sewn by the fingers of ancestors long passed.
I was all that was left, the only one who knew the secrets of the ground. The seasons, the howls of the wind. Now waiting, as time ground my bones to dust, as it did the grain.
None from the village took to the words of the ground or its blessings. None could understand the plough. I despaired.
And then, foul beast! Terrible, wonderous beast! It bit me, deep and strong!
I writhed in agony for days. Yet I healed. Pain fled my aching bones, the clock wound back and though I still looked a withered man, I worked as ten men strong!
Oh golden grain, I harvested, put to mill stone, and so kept the village safe from famine winter long. The price, however was something I kept to myself. Barricaded in the 'Chateau'. Inescapable to beast, made of stone that could not be breached by man or beast alike.
But only so much can be done by one man alone, however strong, the howls brought curiosity, and thus did my wretched state become discovered. The Mayor put to a vote wether I should be allowed to live , near unanimously was the vote of yes. No harm had come to the people of Valune as long as I had been around, and so they said it must be my doing.
It was of course, not so.
Thus did the ritual start, and so did the coming doom .
Every moon the Chateau lived to its name, a fortress did it become, protected, fortified and kept locked tight to keep me from the thing I feared and craved.
Yet so the word of prosperous Chateau grew, and protection grew. The village was then carefully selected by a Lord, young and foolish, who did say the lands all thus belonged to him and him alone. Any attempt to hold anything from him, would be met with force.
His men, upon that fateful night, came to ensure that no one would bar the Lord from seeing what was within the Chateau.
So no one stopped him and his men, so politely let him in, and locked it up behind.
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You're body, though appearing young feels the years of transformations. As you walk across the floor you can remember your first time being stabbed, your first time changing even. The night you changed not knowing what your body was doing. Feeling like your body was going to explode. Now here You are in what some would call a "Comfortable" life and it's being taken. Your first thought is easy "Rip this new lord to pieces" a thought easily channeled by rage. A more curious thought harbor's itself moments later. You could turn this new lord, turning him into the monster he sees you as.
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lb8h1qd
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lb8chhs
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[WP] "Let me make this perfectly clear. You are not saving my daughter from a dragon. She IS a dragon. You are going to protect her and keep her company until she learns how to control her magic."
|
I knelt in front of the Emperor, listening to his request.
"Again, Sir Lucius, let me make this perfectly clear.
The quest is about protecting the princess, AS a dragon, meaning that SHE is the dragon, and you are not some knight saving the damsel from a dragon's greed.
You are to protect her, and keep her company until she learns how to control her magic, understood?", he boomed.
I nodded.
"Yes, Your Majesty.", I said.
He nodded, and the eunuch gave me a pouch with materials, food, and the instructions as to where to go.
Far away, in the northern wastelands of the Empire, I arrived at a mountain range, and in one of its mountains, a path was carved out.
Entering and following it, I arrived at a large cave, filled with bookshelves, wardrobes, and pillows.
Upon the pillows was a emerald green and royal blue scaled dragon...
It was not one of the titanic sizes, but one barely a few times bigger than an adult human.
After all, it was a magic specialized dragon.
"Who's rawr.", the dragon lifted her head up, asking, but her words turned into roars, as she buried her face in the pillows.
"I came on His Majesties orders, to protect and keep you company, My Lady.", I said.
There was silence.
After a good while, I saw her move, and as she looked at me, she gasped, releasing a breath of fire, water and metal on me.
I parried it upwards, hoping this cave is as enchanted as I think it is.
"Sorrawr!", she said.
"No worries, I was chosen because of my skills.
Try out your dragon skills, you don't have to worry about my safety.", I chuckled, but all she did was bury herself even more into the sea of pillows.
I shrugged, and taking a book from the shelves started reading it...out loud.
Didn't take long until a nose was in the book, as she came over curiously.
I laughed, and scared her, as she tried to "punch" me, but I blocked it.
"It was some time since you read a book, wasn't it?", I asked.
She nodded.
"Must be sad, considering the many books here, you are quite the reader.", I said.
She nodded again, tears visible in her eyes.
"How about this?
I read you some books, hunt for your meals, maybe dig out a hot spring for you to bathe in.
In exchange, you have to try out draconic spells, and draconic movements: clawing, flying, breathing fire, bathing in lava, and so on.
Do we have a deal?", I asked.
She stared at me, her tail swaying behind her, before it jerked, and hit me.
I didn't even budge.
"Sorry...
And yes, I accerawr!", she said, nodding.
I re-started reading, while I could see her try to walk around, without wobbling.
It was a good start, and considering her half-human speech, it won't take long until she will master her transformation...
|
Tori hummed and rubbed her chin after hearing the woman's request. Nugget looked up at his mount with a few cheeps and a cluck.
"It's a weird one, Nugs." Tori chuckled at her cockatrice, whose snake tail wagged with anticipation. "But money's money and we're the closest magic teachers and bodyguards around... kind of."
Nugget stretched his head at Tori with a cheep.
"I know, I know. We'll eat soon, okay?" Tori glanced at her cockatrice, who cheeped back.
"This time of year is inhospitable to all but the local ice dragons and storm dragons." The requester rumbled. "For now, I have a cave where you and your bird can stay."
"Oh, that's perfectly fine. I used to live in a cave when I was a kid." Tori waved her hand with a chuckle. "My mom taught me how to hunt in caves and the forest"
"Great!" The woman beamed while she handed over a map to Tori. "Here's a map of the area. My cave is marked here. I'll leave you and your bird to get yourselves adjusted for a few days."
Tori thanked the requester and went off to find the cave she and Nugget will be staying at for the next six months.
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j609ymg
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j5zrkjy
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[WP] When you were kids, your identical twin drowned in a lake. Today, everyone - even people who wouldn't know about your twin - is calling you by their name. Freaked out, you called your mom and tried to explain the situation and your blood runs cold. She says you're the one who drowned.
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"Hey sweetie," the kindly woman said over the phone.
"Hey mom," Philip replied dejectedly.
"What's wrong? You sound down."
"It's... someone pulled a stupid prank. They thought it would be funny to call me by the wrong name. The name of... *his* name, you-" he tried finishing the sentence, but couldn't find the strength to. 12 years after the accident and the wound was still far, far too painful. He didn't know how anyone found out about his twin brother's drowning, but to call such a prank cruel was mild.
"Oh, *sweetie*, I'm so, so sorry," Philip's mother said softly. "Do you know who started it?"
"No, I... no," Philip continued. "I just... on the anniversary of all things? I don't get how someone could be so-"
"I know, sweetie, I know. I'm really sorry."
"Yeah."
"Say," Philip's mother started warmly, trying to cheer up her son, "what do you say you take the week off, come over? I'll cook your favourite meatloaf."
Philip chuckled and wiped a tear from his eye. "I'd like that, mom. Thanks."
"Maybe later we could visit Philip's grave. Might make you feel a bit better to talk to him, you know?"
Philip's blood froze. "You said Martin's grave? I think I misheard."
"What?" Philip's mother replied. "No, I said- Martin, are you feeling alright? Mart^(in?")
The phone shattered on the ground as it slipped from Philip's hands, silencing his mother's worried pleas. He looked blankly forward with abject horror. For strangers to call him his dead brother's name - a prank. His own mother, however...
He rushed into the bathroom and splashed water on his face. Looking up he reached out to the mirror to wipe it clean and get a good look at himself.
And when his finger hit the glass, it caused waves to flow through the surface, as if he touched water. His stunned silence was broken by the sudden sound of the doorbell. Philip slowly crept towards the door and still dazed and confused opened it, seeing a man dressed in a very plain shirt and trousers standing before him.
"Philip Lavarez?" the man asked politely.
"Y- yes?" Philip responded.
"You're Philip Lavarez?" the man repeated.
"Yes, I am- do you know what's going-" Philip started.
"But you're not supposed to be," the man interrupted. "I've been sent by \[ENTITY: ADMINISTRATION\] to help. Do no worry. It'll be well soon."
Philip's eyes went wide as the man reached into his pocket and pulled out... a bottle of pills?
"This is the correct \[ITEM: MEDICATION\], Mr Lavarez. Please, take one," the man said and offered one. Philip reached over for one.
He didn't want to. He screamed at his body not to take one. He tried as hard as he could to resist.
He grabbed a pill and swallowed it.
"\[ENTITY: ADMINISTRATION\] apologized for the inconvenience, Martin," the man said with a smile as the world faded to black.
.
...
.....
"Hey sweetie," the kindly woman said over the phone.
"Hey mom," Martin replied dejectedly.
"What's wrong? You sound down."
"It's... it's the anniversary of Philip's death and it just got me remembering..." Martin said.
"Oh, sweetie, I am so sorry. What do you say you take the week off, come over? I'll cook your favourite meatloaf."
Martin chuckled and wiped a tear from his eye. "I'd like that, mom. Thanks."
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It started out just once. I thought it was a mistake. When someone hollered, "Hey Penny!" I thought they were talking to someone else. But then it happened at the drug store then at my veterinarian job. I started to feel like I was going crazy! "I'm not Penny!! Why do you keep calling me that?!! Penny is dead!!" I shout to nobody as I had fled to a nearby bathroom at my workplace. I was frustrated. I was scared. I felt like I was losing my mind. I couldn't be the crazy one. They're crazy. I shakily pulled out my phone, not knowing where else to turn but to my slightly distant mother. She was never the same after my sister's death, after PENNY'S death. I heard her answer. I said, "Hey mom. Something weird is going on!" "Oh Penny what's the matter." She responded and my blood ran cold. Not her too! "I AM NOT PENNY!!! I'm JOSEPHINE!! PENNY DROWN IN THE LAKE WHEN WE WERE KIDS!!" I gasped in desperation. Of course my outburst scared and confused the already mentally frail woman which made me feel horrible, reminding her of the tragedy that befell my sister. "I don't know why.... You feel the need to bring up the worst moment in my life. Or to cause your mother so much grief again and again. You are not Josephine. Jo drowned when you were kids. You are Penny. I am sick of you opening old wounds. My heart can't take it anymore. Goodbye." I heard the dial tone and couldn't catch my breath. What? This had happened before? No. People only just starting calling me Penny instead of Jo... Right?
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lt6jr0m
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lt6coxi
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[WP] You are a squire to a dead knight - as were your father and grandmother before you. Today, for the first time in generations, the councilors reached an agreement - the invaders cannot be reasoned with; unseal the tombs.
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On the stained glass windows, paintings, and tapestries the Everknights looked like they were just sleeping. Serene, beautiful faces with lips half-curled in a smile reassured the meek that someone was there to shield them from harm when invaders threatened their homes. They were a symbol of eternal duty and devotion to peace. They were heroes. When I looked at mine in person, what I saw was a weapon.
He was hairless and pale. His eyes had rotted away during the squireship of my grandmother when old embalming techniques had proven insufficient to delay time’s rightful due. A thin mouth curled into a strange grimace, giving me a glimpse of a set of eerily perfect teeth. My father, ever the practical man, had shifted his focus from preserving frail and largely useless flesh to maintaining the armour and axe of the Everknight. I followed in his footsteps. I’d never had much choice.
The council called the tombs of the Everknights “sealed”. They didn’t want to put any more emphasis than necessary on the work of squires like myself. They didn’t want the populace to think of their eternal heroes being routinely protected from cobwebs, dust, and rust. I’d been venturing into the little stone cave to perform my duties about once a month since I was child, first with my father, now alone. Today’s visit was unscheduled.
You’d be surprised at how shallow the sleep of a dead man is. When I’d first seen him stir in that crude stone niche, I must have screamed as hard as my little lungs allowed me. Now the casual shifts and even occasional murmurings were familiar, almost comforting. Still, there was a ritual to make an Everknight fully awaken and rise to battle. The wolves were at the door and villages burned, so the council demanded I—along with every other squire to every other knight—perform it. It was time for legends to march.
I lit the incense and began to pray. This was not needed, but it helped calm the thumping in my chest. It seemed prudent to ask the gods for help, but I wasn’t sure what I dreaded more: that the Everknight wouldn’t awaken or that he would. By the time I was born, the last squire to have done this had been long dead. There was no guarantee that the old magic still worked. With a heavy sigh, I took out the knife.
It was one quick cut, right across my palm, just like my father taught me. With so much fear coursing through me, the pain barely stung at all. I lifted my fist to the Everknight’s desiccated mouth and squeezed out a few droplets, reciting words in an old language of my ancestors:
“Oh blood of mine, forever cursed to dream, rise and protect me.”
I backed away towards the far wall and waited, counting seconds with my shallow breaths. The worst part was how silently he moved. A tall man clad in full armour walking out of a pit of stone should have made some noise. I expected a clattering of metal as he grabbed his helmet and axe and marched towards me, but he glided out more like a spectre than a ghoulish decomposing body. In just three steps he crossed the length of the tomb and approached me. Two hollow pits drilled into me as a steel gauntlet rose to my face.
As I tried to press myself into the rock of the cave, he placed his armoured hand on my cheek and looked at me for a long agonising minute, searching for something that wasn’t quite there. It seemed weird to suggest that an emptiness, a void in place of eyes, could look so confused. From behind his white teeth a single word echoed in a strange wail, a word in that same old language my father taught me:
“Daughter.”
Without another sound, the Everknight put on his helmet, turned towards the exit, and left his tomb.
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I thought it silly when I was a boy. "Why bother caring for all this junk!" Is what I always said to my father when he was teaching me how to maintain the equipment of a corpse. "Why should I memorize all their titles?" I asked when he made me study the many titles the c corpse had earned, I was young enough to believe all knights had pages upon pages of titles. "What's the point of all this?"
But he only ever had one response "You'll find out when you're older" and it infuriated me. I was angry as all children are when a secret is kept from them. I was angry I wasn't trusted, wasn't good enough, and that I had to do about three times as many chores as my friends.
But the day my father died of the wasting wad when it all changed. Still stricken by grief and mourning, tears still flowing from my eyes, I received a visit from one of the king's ten hands.
They're an elite in all things to do with combat and intelligence. I was taken away from my mother so that I could learn something. Something I hoped I'd never see used in my entire life. But sadly the world cares not for the hopes of one person.
I recite the ancient words. I list the titles and deeds of a rotten husk. And to my horror the husk lifts the lid off of his own tomb. It gets up in eery silence as its lungs have gotten away long ago along with almost its entire body. The only things magic has preserved where piercing eyes surrounded by rotten sockets and an unnatural strength.
I feel that I could break at any second while I tell the revenant lord what our enemies have done. A dozen towns burned. All our diplomatic attempts massacred. Spy's reporting our citizens being sold in their markets. But nothing moved the figure. Nothing implied any rage on the lords face. Their eyes were empty and hollow things where hope went to die.
An as they donned meticulously maintained armor I could only pray that at least their blade could bring hope to my people.
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m71mbtr
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[WP] Guy lives alone in a world full of people, no one can see or hear him, he lives his days alone until one day he find another person, another person alone in this world with him. They fall in love but then he phases back into the world, everyone can see him again, but he can’t see her.
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Swirls of light enshrouded her, and alas! I appeared above the shrine, bathed in wonder for surely she had never seen a god. My tempest of appearance settled gradually as I announced her reward for her commitment to me.
"Meredith you came when none other would. Year on year, in your life. Now you are middle-aged, and still you come! Kneel and receive what I give!"
Meredith grimmaced, knelt.
"Behold!" I thundered, and produced the holy contraption for her. The light dissipated, the swirling subsided. I remained hovering over my shrine, beaming down at her as she retook her feet and approached the treasure I had bestowed.
"An elliptical?" she said, dryly. "You're giving me an elliptical?"
"I..." I said, caught off guard by her unblinking stare. "Are... are you unfazed by my sudden appearance and bestowal? I am a god!"
Her stare maintained for a minute in the silence between us, then she looked back at the elliptical.
"I mean, it's an elliptical. Do you think I should be more surprised that there's a god for this shrine I've known all my life? Or do you think it's more surprising that a god manifested a gift for me, and it's an elliptical?"
"What is wrong, Meredith? I seek only to reward my most--my only devotee."
She sighed, and touched one of the handlebars, pushing it so that the pedals squeaked on their rail. She started.
"Is... is this a used elliptical?"
"Um, it's," I stammered, conscious of a bit of ethereal sweat on my brow. Gods sweat, yes.
I smote the bead and said, "yes, Meredith, but it has good reviews and ellipticals are sturdy machines."
"Why do you think I need one?"
"Meredith come! You are middleaged and this is but a beginner's hike to the trailhead, and even that is just behind your home. Surely you need to consider other forms of exercise."
"God damn!" she snapped. "All my life I come here, and your first thought is I need to lose weight? What kind of god are you? I can't believe I thought this shrine was so important."
I summoned a tiny rumble of the earth and a bit of wind that messed up her hair a little.
"Stop that!" she said. I recoiled.
"I wouldn't use this machine," she continued.
"Why not?"
"I can't be bothered to exercise on machines. Hell I can't exercise unless it's to do something. Like, a sport maybe. Get the ball in the net, over the net. Or walking to the store to buy food and lug it home. Something primordial about hunting and gathering, I dunno. I can't just waste calories just because. It goes against nature for god's sake."
She eyed me at that last quip.
"But--"
"--and by the way, can you even teleport this to somewhere else?"
"Of course!" And I summoned with great concentration a displacement, and the elliptical moved a foot to the right.
"Like to my basement?" she asked. I looked down. "So what, it just stays here in the forest next to your shrine? I can't carry this thing it must weigh 80 pounds."
She inhaled and touched her temples as if they hurt.
"I... I am sorry, Meredith. I care about you, you see. I want you to be healthy and to come visit me next year. And the year after, and so on. I have no friends, you see. I am alone."
Meredith looked up at me, letting her hands fall to her sides. Her eyes filled with an emotion I couldn't quite identify even with my holiness of sight. It seemed to fill her, to redden her cheeks and lift her spirit, as if a bit of electricity stimulated her awareness beyond the aged bones I had erroneously thought she should limber up. I knew then that while perhaps she wouldn't use the elliptical, at least, she would come visit again next year.
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It's already 2100. 2100... And My faith has already been so swiftly forgotten.
Crosses, they used to adorn My houses, everywhere across the world. Well now, they don't. My faith has been so forsaken and despised, that they don't even use "+" for addition in Mathematics anymore. They just use the word "plus" or the phrase "added to".
The last Bible was printed in 2073. The last hymn was sung in 2076, and the last praise song sung in 2079. Earth's last church officially ceased to exist in the same year, 2079.
Since then all worship of Me has ceased. No one remembers Jehovah. The Trinity. Yahweh. Jesus Christ the Saviour.
Except you, dear child. My dear dear daughter in spirit, Deborah Mary Samynathan.
I thank you for remembering Me. For still coming to this small alcove that has a small stone cross in it, to pray to Me and beg Me to have mercy on this increasingly depraved world. You give Me hope. Hope that among mankind, My beloved creations, good may still silently exist. Hope that this good may yet rise again one day.
And now this year, you have come to visit Me again. It is Easter. And I remember that now you are 21. You are grown now. You are an adult, and I think you are ready for My gift to you.
Take now, the strength of Samson, the power of Elijah, the insight of Paul, the righteousness of Moses, the integrity of Joseph and the triumphancy of Joshua. Receive, now, SPIRIT.
Now, go forth My faithful daughter. Declare My faith and lend voice to that which has been silent. I will go and wage war against Lucifer, who will seek to stop you. I know, this means that you may stop feeling My presence near you for awhile.
But do not fear, dear daughter. We will be separated only for a little while. Once the victory is won by the power of My blood, I will reveal myself to this fallen world. And you will be vindicated for your faith in Me.
Be blessed now, dear daughter, and go forth to victory.
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[WP] You never really believed your grandmother's stories about the little people who lived in her home. After she passed and left it to you, you said, "Okay, Little People! I'm sorry, but the economy sucks, so I'm going to have start charging rent." In the morning, you find a small pile of gold.
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I stared down at the small pile of ancient gold coins. They had to be ancient, there were bits of them that were still covered in moss. I'd never really believed Oma when she talked about the Little People in the house. As a joke, when I'd inherited the house, I'd made a general announcement in each room about the economy and paying rent. And this morning, I'd woken up to *this* on my nightstand.
Ignoring the goosebumps that rose on my arms at the thought of the Little People— whoever they might be— watching me sleep, I reached out and picked up two of the coins. They were too small to pick up individually, perfectly sized for a folk that was considered little. The gap that they left in the pile revealed an equally small piece of paper.
Using the zoom on my camera, I managed to read the message.
'This is all we have. We hope it is enough for your rent. We don't want to be freeloaders, or to impinge on your generosity.'
'P.S. Sorry about your loss.'
Well, I felt like shit. I'd just impoverished a whole group of Little People and they were apologizing for the loss of my grandmother. After wallowing in my guilt for a few minutes, I came up with a plan. Walking into every room in the small house again, I made an announcement in every room, making sure I spoke clearly. Hopefully, they heard me.
All throughout that day I waited with bated breath, making preparations in my living room. If the Little People had heard me, that's where they would be appearing. And this time I would be awake to see them. I'd set up a table nearly at eye level, a small stack of paper and the tiniest writing implements I could find. Hopefully, even if the size difference made it difficult to understand their voices, we would still be able to communicate. I'd also moved the small pile of gold, bringing it here.
It was around midnight when I first saw movement. Small figures swarmed up the legs of the table until they reached the top, and I got my first visible impression of the Little People. They were impeccably dressed, each looking as if they were about to attend a fancy ball. Tiny feathered wings hung down their backs, and I wondered why they hadn't just flown up to the table. Nevertheless, they were here, and that was the important thing.
One of their number stepped forward, clearing her throat. I watched her eyes flicker from me, to the pile of gold and then back again. Unsure of the protocol for interacting with another race, especially one that had probably been living here longer than me, I waited.
"You asked for a meeting, and while that breaks every rule of interaction, we all agreed it might be necessary. Please, what more do you want from us?" She said, a hint of desperation in her voice.
As gently as I could, I pushed the pile of gold toward the group, making sure my movements were slow. I didn't want to scare them.
"Here. I don't feel right about taking all your gold. But," I held up a finger as she opened her mouth. "Neither do I want you to feel like freeloaders. So, here's what I propose." I took a deep breath, making sure my voice was level, pushing down any unruly emotions.
"You probably knew my Oma better than I did. Honestly, I was surprised when I inherited the house, we hadn't spoken in—" My voice cracked. "In twenty years. I guess, I just, you know, I was...busy." It sounded like such a flimsy excuse, but to my surprise, the Little People didn't look judgemental, though they probably had every right to judge.
"So, for as long as it takes, your rent is to tell me about her. About what she was like, what she did with her life, everything you saw here." I stopped, my throat closing. I hadn't realized how much I loved that old woman until she'd died, until I'd run out of 'I'll visit laters.'
The spokesperson for the Little People looked up at me, tilting her head to the side. It was a remarkably bird-like movement, and coupled with the wings, I wondered if perhaps there was bird in their makeup.
"And this would be seen as fair compensation?" She asked.
"More than fair." I managed to choke out.
She nodded, and waved a hand behind her. Almost faster than sight, the rest of the group swarmed the gold, each taking a few pieces before vanishing back into the dark. In a few seconds, only the spokesperson remained. She moved from the table to the arm of the couch, sitting comfortably. And the stern face she'd presented, cracked into a gentle smile as she looked up at me.
"Then, the first tale begins tonight. The story of your...Oma...when she bought this house and moved in."
As she continued, I surreptitiously wiped at my face, my hand coming away wet. Even in this economy, this was better payment than any pile of gold.
——————
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories!
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Loneliness. Even the word instigates the feeling of such isolation of body and soul.
And this is exactly how I feel as I watch my extended family surround my grandmother's still body. She looks so frail. She looks old.
She looked dead. Lifeless. Which is not the word I would have ever thought to describe my Grandma. She was always full of life. Everything she touched bloomed with the love that poured from her. She was absolutely fierce. She stood up for what she believed in, for who she believed in.
And for a long time, it was me. She stood by me when I lost my parents. She stood by me when I came back from school with black eye. She stood by me when I gave that kid a black eye. She was there for me.
But now she is not.
And I don't know what to do.
*
I slump back into the sofa in my living room. All the guests finally leaving. My face finally falling out of the mask I had been wearing for the past 13 days. Hated every single one those fake relatives. I knew why they were here. They were just waiting for the distribution of property. But I didn't falter once. My grandma would never want me to give them an inch so that they can take a mile.
But finally I was free. Free to live in a house that my grandma filled with love. How will I live here alone?
Then, as clearly as day, a memory resurfaced in my mind.
*"You are never alone here, honey." My grandma said. Her eyes twinkling with secrets of the universe. "We have our little friends here."*
I snort. I have never seen any of her little friends. I always thought that it was her way to feel better after losing her husband and then her son. I never questioned it, of course. If my small indulgent smile brought her happiness then smile I shall.
But the thought of someone who knew my grandma like I did was a tempting one. And perhaps this is why I said, "Okay, Little People! I'm sorry, but the economy sucks, so I'm going to have start charging rent."
Despite my apprehension I waited for something, anything to happen. But as I knew, much to my dismay, nothing happened.
Sighing, I make myself move. I needed sleep. Maybe I could see my grandma in my dreams and she would teach me to move forward.
Or so I hoped.
*
My dreams were nothing but watching my grandma's last rites. Watch when the body went in flames, a little white light escaping the fire like finally her soul was free of this material world.
I crash into something and almost fall down. Groaning, all the while searing pain shoot through my toes, I try to stand up. But I freeze when I see the glinting metal.
There's a small pile of gold. A scramble back. How the hell? I look around looking for a thief who is probably using my home as a hideout. There's nothing but a small note beside the now scattered pile.
Hesitant, I pick it up and almost pass out from shock.
*The rent.*
*We are sorry about your grandma. She was a wonderful woman. Thank you for letting us stay.*
~~~~~~~
(I mention 13 days because in Hinduism their is a 13 days ceremony after death. Also the him watching his grandmother burn is from the fact that most groups in Hinduism practice cremation.)
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mjlnqmv
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[WP]"And why exactly should i care?" "Well... You are the summoned Hero, tha-" "No, I was kidnapped from my World for your benefit. Or do you suppose i didn't have a life in my World? Didn't have Family? Friends? How would you feel if i kidnapped you to fight some scary shit for me?"
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I could tell the king was not expecting my response. I am willing to bet that he only thinks about himself and decided to summon me because he thought it was going to be the easiest solution. I can tell by the look on his face that he didn’t even consider that what he was doing was kidnapping and that everyone wants to assist him because he is the king. I have been in this world for less than five minutes and I already hate him.
The king composed himself and explained, “Our enemy nation is at war with us. My people are suffering. I knew that the best method would be to summon a being from another world to end this war quickly. The summoning has given you immense strength and speed. Please find it in your heart to help my kingdom. After the war is over, I will send you back to your world.” I hate him even more now. An obvious attempt at emotional manipulation by saying that the citizens are suffering. A promise that he can send me home to both give me hope while explaining that he is the only person who can return me to my world. Unfortunately, I do not have a choice but to go along with this selfish prick.
I give an exasperated exhale, “Show me the weapons, armor and soldiers. I must see what I am working with.”
The royal advisor yells, “Watch your tone! You are talking to the king and must show respect!” I looked at the advisor, realized that he doesn’t have the authority or ability to send me home, and then tested my newfound strength by snapping his neck. Everyone in the throne room was shocked but didn’t make a move.
I explained, “I will not be showing the king or anyone in this room respect. You are kidnappers. I killed him to send a clear message that I am not helping because I want to, but because I have to. I repeat. Show me the weapons, armor and soldiers. I must see what I am working with.” The king had a look that he was starting to regret summoning me. He complied and had the guards show me the soldiers, weapons and armor.
By the end of the tour my hatred towards all authority in this kingdom has reached its peak. The weapons and armor were all poorly made, as if absolutely nothing had gone into the research and development. The soldiers were poorly fed, and their training was pathetic to say the least. The officers in the army were all nobility and got their positions through nepotism. This nation probably has been relying on the summoned hero the entire time and has not made any effort into improving anything. I will help them in this war that is meaningless to me and the entire time I am going to think of ways to make them regret ever bringing me here.
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"I admit it is not ideal, but we didn't have a choice as to your world..."
"Tell me I'm still alive on my world."
"What? Yes, of course, why does everyone ask that? We just need you to fulfill your destiny and you will be thrown back to your world."
"Thrown?"
"Let's get you fed."
"I don't want to be thrown anywhere." He says while being guided through a giant and colorful door, inside is a house, a big house, where a family appear to be waiting for someone.
"Well, sit down, boy." The older of them points to an empty seat. He takes a seat and a servant fills the plate in front of him with an incredible amount of food. "I will really like to know what my... Hold up, man, I don't hibernate any time soon." The servant doesn't stop until the food threatens to fall out of the plate.
"Now, for the task that the universe has chosen you for. You have 25 minutes to complete the ritual of glutonery. Empty your plate and generations will praise your name forever."
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[WP] The pact was signed between the King and the Fairy Queen, 1,000 years of prosperity for his kingdom, in exchange for his yet-to-be-conceived first born. The Fairy Queen however did not expect the king to slit his own throat and die on the spot seconds later.
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The fairy queen heaved a full body sigh and lifted a delicate foot to nudge the king's corpse.
"Quite dramatic don't you think? Did you even read the contract?" She turned her piercing gaze to his attendant. Though her expression held no malice, it cut through him to the bone. The longer it lingered on him, the more he was sure she didn't look upset or even mildly put out by the cooling corpse of the former king at her feet. She looked... disappointed. She snapped her fingers in front of his face, and only then did he realize she'd spoken.
"A thousand apologies, but I was so distracted and missed your words."
"No need for a thousand, one will do. Now, as I said, the king was literate, yes? He did know how to read?"
The attendant had ever intent to answer but was so flabbergasted by the question in light of the situation that he was rendered speechless. The annoyance that flickered across her face pulled him to his senses.
"Um, yes, your majesty. The king is-erm, was, a very well educated man. " It had never taken so much effort to speak. He looked down to avoid her gaze, but that only brought his attention to the former king. A sob desperately wanted to escape. It squirmed in his throat like he'd swallowed a frog, but now was not the time to fall apart.
The fairy queen, cheated from her due, would surely strike their kingdom for this slight unless something could be done to stay her temper. He look away from his king and back up at her and was once again struck by the disappointment painting her beautiful features.
"Can you?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Can you read?"
She turned the contract to face him. The ink glittered with magic, and the parchment held its gentle glow. He almost collapsed in relief seeing it. The magic was still active. The contract's terms still held despite his king's treachery.
"READ." The queen spoke the word so calmly, but it laced with power and he couldn't have denied the demand if he'd tried.
"On this day, the Queen of the Fae and King Richard, third of his name, come to an accord: 1000 years of prosperity for his kingdom in exchange for the king's yet-to-be-conceived first born. After birth the Queen of the Fae will have 18 years to collect her payment."
The attendant read it once by command, twice by curiosity, and thrice by confusion. He looked around the paper and up at the queen.
"I don't understand."
Who would have known a face so elegant was even capable of such a substantial eye roll.
"Tell me if you can: Where in this contract does it say the child has to be Dead King Richard's?"
The attendant read it a fourth time, and a fifth. After the tenth read through the color drained from his face and the froggy sob finally found it's freedom.
"Yes, now you see it. A new king shall be crowned, and I will have his first born."
The attendant fell to his knees, into the pool of his king's blood.
"He died... For nothing?"
"He did. An inconvenience at best. Such incompetence. It's no wonder he needed fairy magic to bouy his kingdom from the brink of collapse."
The Queen took her leave then, and not one guard moved to stop her. The next king would pay a heavy price for his crown.
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"And upon this meeting was the time when the king of humanity met with the Fae folk, coming to help with the future war to destroy the land. He did know that this could guarantee peace in our times, and so he went to get it.
The Fairy Queen is a honest person, and she did offer 1000 years of peace and prosperity for the kingdom in exchange for his first born. The King had no children, and none to be conceived. And he did agree to the terms. The two did make a blood oath, and he nodded to the Fairy Queen.
And then, the King did take the dagger and slit his own throat, to die at her feet. He sacrificed for the human people in order to give us all peace.
But the Fairy Queen, she is a smart person. And she did see this attempt to break the oath, and she knew her way. She looked upon this king and found another option.
And with that, the Fae folk had went out to the kingdom, and they did look through the fields, the ways of the human's land. And they did find a young peasant girl, crying because the boy she was to marry had been taken by accident. And the Fae folk did promise her a good life if she were to come with them, and she did so willingly.
And when she did get there, the Fairy Queen was there with the dagger, taking the corpse of the King. And she did make her way to fight back, as the young girl was calmed and given wait...and soon, the deal was finalized.
And this is the story of how our people have had peace and prosperity, as well as the story of how IVF was invented."
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[WP] You open the door and see a woman you recognise immediately: she’s the lead character of a novel you wrote years ago. And abandoned halfway. “Why did you forsake me?”
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“I’m either drunk off my ass and dreaming, or you’re some hallucination…fine, I guess I can indulge you a little,” I sigh as I look at the elven woman dressed in attire for which I remember penning the descriptions years ago, gesturing for her to come inside with two fingers. The rest of my hand held onto my glass of whiskey. “You *are* supposed to be Selena, right?” I sat on my couch beside a coffee table.
“There’s no ‘supposed to be’ about it. I am Selena,” she said, the sassy attitude I imagined for her character shining through. “You started making my story years ago, but stopped after 8 months. You stuck me in a nest of vampires and left me there. Do you know how boring it was waiting for you to get back and continue my adventure? The vampires only knew how to play one type of card game, and refused to interact beyond that. I couldn’t even leave the mansion until I prayed for some divine intervention. You made me an atheist…do you know how hard it was to bring myself to pray to something I never believed existed?”
I look down softly at the drink in my hand. “I’m truly sorry…I don’t know if I’ll ever finish your story,” I said before taking another drink. The liquor was running out, so I grabbed the bottle beside me and refilled the glass. “I am no longer the writer I once was.”
“…So I am forever doomed to a life of misery and boredom? I was supposed to fight the demon king and save my world! Now I’m just going to fade?” Selena asked, leveling her staff at me in a rage. “I won’t do that. You will not make me sit there without any hope for the future.”
I look at her with no light in my eyes. “Selena, do you know on whom I based your personality?”
Selena softened a bit, clearly not expecting that question. “No…why?”
I pick up a picture frame beside me, gazing longingly. “You look just like her as an elf…and your person matches perfectly. Even what I never explicitly wrote. She was an incredible woman.”
Selena walked closer, seeing the picture of me and my wife. “Did something happen?”
“…She was coming home from work, and a drunk driver found her at 120 miles an hour. She was 8-months pregnant. Her body was too broken to have an open casket at her wake.”
Selena was silent, noticing she was getting choked up. If she spoke, she knew the dam would break.
“I was writing your story to inspire my daughter. But…if she’s not here to read them…”
Selena sat on the couch beside me. “…You wrote me having to overcome the death of my mother and sister…” she said. “Maybe whoever answered my prayer wants me to help you do the same.”
I look at her directly, seeing some of the scars I had given her from the raid that took her family. I suppose that was my fault there. “You and every therapist I’ve ever spoken to,” I say before finishing my whiskey again.
“But they’re not as close to you as I am. I am a reflection of your soul just as much as you meant me to be a reflection of your wife.”
It was my turn to stay silent. I wanted to hear what she would try to say.
“If it helps…could I at least stay here with you until you find it in your heart to write again?”
I hadn’t been expecting that. “Are you serious?”
“It’s clear you need somebody to help you through this, and I can do much more good here helping you fight your demons than sitting in some musty vampire-ridden castle playing what barely qualifies as euchre.” Selena sighed. “Who better than me to stay for you?”
“…It might be a while…” I say, trying to save her from my misery.
“I’m prepared to wait as long as you need,” she said. “After all…I’m an elf. I have all the time in the world.”
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I did not expect to actually -meet- her. To me, she was like some minor deity - not powerful enough to be 'real' in the sense that I am, but someone I had already known in ways I couldn't fathom in my existing mind.
She asked me a question that baffled me, and had tugged at strings.
She had what I'd describe as a desperate look, as if pleading for me to remember more than just her - and wore what I'd describe as rags; damaged from her incomprehensible journey.
So I pulled her into my abode, closing the door - and up the stairs to my room.
The family, my parents, weren't home at this time so there wasn't much I needed or had to explain to them how what amounts to a personally imagined waifu became a real being.
The next few hours could be aptly described as us bonding over a shared history that exists in a quantum state of 'could-be' and 'should've been' with a 'hasn't been' sprinkled in for reality's sake. As she acclimatised to the understandings of why I haven't had the blessed drive to continue, we fostered a flame of sorts.
Her name, as well, was a bit of a quantum thing, beginning during a vivid night in Milan, I knew her as Milanne' Nokka - a 'muse of the night in Milan', so to speak. Then, she corrected me with 'Miranne Nokka' and had practically haunted my more...
Uh...
Private corners. Mentally speaking.
But now she's here, the fact that she unashamedly exists has set something in me aflame, and she knows.
Oh, she knows...
But first, a celebration of two lovers reunited; of what amounts to a deity of hidden standing, and a man whom she knows way too well.
\- - - A ludicrous amount of time passes as we're 'warming up to eachother'.
Yet only a few minutes pass to the outside world.
After that, the two of us start collaborating on the book that was meant to be written.
An apt recounting of the adventures of Rennik Sadorn, and a humble summary of the vast creation I had aspired to invoke when I was younger.
...Good thing I have two computers, and a chair to spare for her!
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l5f94q3
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l5f6elf
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[WP] Scientists discover that lightning has a message embedded in the electromagnetic discharge. It reads, "The End is coming, It draws near."
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*“You will take my hand,”* the Mind Warper commanded.
The subject of the order, a forty-year-old man named Charles, struggled to resist. No. He would be in control of his own destiny. What cruel trick was this anyway? Why was the infamous Mind Warper bothering himself with the fate of an ordinary IT tech? It was a blustery, overcast day, but Charles’s shirt was soaked with sweat. His muscles betrayed him, he extended his arm, taking the hand of the Mind Warper.
“Good” the Mind Warper said with what sounded like relief. He stared at Charles. *“Carefully, climb off the barrier.”*
Hot tears and snot rolled down Charles’s face as his muscles moved him towards the Mind Warper.
“Please, just let me be.” Charles pleaded. The Mind Warper shook his head stoically. Charles sobbed hysterically as he moved to descend, distressed that his body moved of its own volition. For a moment his balance faltered, he could feel himself about to fall backwards. The Mind Warper held a tight grip, steadying Charles and then pulling him back down to safety.
“I hate you.” Charles spat. The Mind Warper’s dark eyes were steady as he reached up and wiped the spit off his face.
“I am sorry to take away your free will.” The Mind Warper said somberly. He looked over the barrier, to the fall below, then back to Charles. “But I couldn’t let you go through with it.”
“So, what now, you make me some minion?”
“No.” The Mind Warper replied. “*You will go home, tell a loved one you are in crisis, and call this hotline. You will attend at least 5 sessions of therapy, take any prescribed medicines as directed.”*
Charles tilted his head in confusion, but walked back towards his car, already compelled to go home.
The Mind Warper sighed, looking out over the barrier, letting the wind whip his hair around his head. A black sedan pulled up, the window rolling down.
“Adam, there you are.”
“Good afternoon, Lady Espionage… I mean Cate.” Adam, AKA the Mind Warper sulked towards the car.
“Rough day?” Cate asked as Adam got into the car.
“Sometimes it’s just rough, not knowing if they will just try again after my suggestions wear off, you know?”
“Understandable, but I need your help.” Cate airdropped some photos on Adam’s phone. Adam looked through the photos, group of young men, most likely teenagers, with guns pointed at one another.
“I intercepted some phone calls. Captain Justice is on his way to a gang standoff. We should have a five-minute lead on him, but we must rush” Cate explained as she began to drive, speed limits be damned.
“Sweet lord…” Adam crossed himself even though he wasn’t religious. “Hopefully we get there before he does.” Both sat in tense silence. Captain Justice didn’t hold back in his super strength; more than a few petty thieves and muggers had fatally learned too late that the city’s hero considered himself judge, jury, and, most of all, executioner.
Would they get there in time before the gangs hurt one another, or worse, Captain Justice arrived to “save the day”?
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He pulled out the last man from the rubble of the collapsed building and made sure to properly sling him over his shoulders before he was in view of the cameras. He smeared a bit more dirt over his cheek to make sure it looked good.
This chump made 18, and the papers would eat it up for at least a news cycle. He had crushed the windpipes of two, but he made sure they had a few ton of rocks on them to escape culpability. Those two would bring him to an even 600 across his lifetime. With their brave sacrifices to the greater good, he grew stronger and more handsome each time.
"Dashing Dorian Deserves Medals!" he thought they'd write. He couldn't think of a last D word he deserved. The first part was good, though. He'd ask his publicist to say a few words.
"DORIAN! Will Janice the Jewel be helping clear this up?"
He turned to the reporter and smiled.
He started to answer and had to pause. Behind the reporter was one of... them.
He thought he had heard someone while the second donor today was trying to take in air, but he hadn't seen anyone. He didn't have super sight. Yet. He started to walk towards his nemesis and pointed a finger. Dramatically, of course.
"YOU."
\[Choose your own adventure! Who is standing behind the reporter? Plaguebringer, Ezekiel the Damned, or Bob? Most popular vote when I wake up wins. Or no votes and it ends here forever.\]
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jlk3xl3
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jljylxm
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[WP] You just thought the townsfolk were being nice, occasionally sending you gifts and treats. Recently you found out they were actually offerings, as the village was afraid you'd attack them otherwise. You decide to go clear up the misconception.
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"What happened to the cookie?" I shouted from the kitchen. The empty jar of cookies - cookies that I had baked myself just that weekend - contained only a single half-eaten cookie, with a comically large mouthful taken out of it.
"What's that, Sam?" Lauren shouted back from the living room.
I seized the evidence and marched in. "What happened to the cookie?"
She looked at me, apparently bewildered, but I was sure I could detect guilt beneath it.
"There was a cookie when I left for work," I said slowly, trying not to grind my teeth. My dentist says I grind my teeth too much, and my therapist says its work-stress induced, but, I ask you, who needs intergalactic chronovores to raise one's blood pressure when you have this kind of crime to come home to.
"You must have eaten it and then forgotten about it," Lauren said. "You've been doing that kind of thing more and more recently. Did you hand in your notice like we talked about?"
"Don't change the subject," I snapped, changing it back. "I distinctly remember leaving this cookie in the jar, to enjoy when I got back. And somebody-" I glared at her "-has eaten it."
"Well, it wasn't me."
"And," I said, because its the details that matter in these kinds of cases, "you didn't even put the lid of the jar back on properly. That's how cookies dry out."
Floored by such incontestable evidence, my wife could only glare back at me.
"I don't ask for much," I said, "but when a cookie has my name on it, and when I've had a day like today traveling to more days than I can remember, I just want to come home to my cookie and forget, for one minute, that our universe is beset on all 7 dimensions by creatures that would like to eat us instead of cookies."
"For the last time, Samantha," and I knew I'd gotten her attention because she used my full name, "I did not touch your damn cookie."
"We can see about that, can't we?" I said, and I pulled out the time rewinder from the chain around my neck.
That finally seemed to get her full attention. "You didn't quit!" she snapped.
"Just as well," I said. "Because now I can hop back through the day and find out what happened to this." I shook the cookie at her.
The cookie was still soft, much softer than a cookie should have been had it been exposed to the air all day, and it broke into pieces that scattered across the living room floor. Lauren looked at me in disgust.
I spun the time rewinder with a practiced flick. Twenty minutes would do for a first hop, and then I would keep hopping until I caught the cookie-eating culprit in the act, misuse of government property for private gain be damned.
"Wait-" Lauren said, but then the universe blipped and I was still standing in the living room, alone in the past with only the memory of my future anger to sustain me.
I marched into the kitchen.
The cookie jar sat on the counter, open.
The cookie was in the thief's hand, and half into it's mouth.
The thief stared at me, with timeless eyes that see the universe in more dimensions that scientists currently know about, and bit down on the cookie with it's large and very uncomical mouth. It chewed for a second, and then spat it out.
"That was a waste of a good cookie," I said.
The chronovore put the remains of the cookie back in the jar, and did not put the lid back on. Instead, it took a step towards me.
Out of the window, I saw Lauren's car pull into the driveway. She was getting home from work. It would be another twenty minutes until I got home, and there was a chronovore loose in our home.
I couldn't jump forwards twenty minutes, because then the chronovore would be free to eat a hole in the fabric of our space-time reality, indiscriminately consuming Lauren and my house along with the neighbor's yappy dog and the neighbor too. I could live quite happily without three of those things, but I visited a thousand eras in both past and future and I could say with some confidence that there was only one Lauren.
No, I needed to distract it for twenty minutes or so, because I had seen that there was a timeline in which she did not immediately get devoured by an extra-dimensional being with an insatiable appetite, and that seemed like a pretty good outcome in the circumstances.
I searched around the kitchen for a weapon. Lauren, my beautiful, brilliant wife, had of course tidied up my mess that morning and the kitchen was unfortunately pristine and devoid of dirty knives left conveniently out on the counter.
"Hey asshole," I said to the chronovore. "Aren't you going to put the lid back on that cookie jar? Otherwise, it's going to dry out..."
\---
More stories at r/jd_rallage
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After rewinding, I erased the texts. I then sat on the couch, watching the ball game as I drank a brew, acting as casual as I possibly could.
Right on time, Martha's key entered the lock, as the metal mechanism rotated, I fought to keep my pounding heart steady.
Martha looked as I knew she would. Her mascara ran down her face in fat, black globs.
In my previous attempt, I sat on the couch, pretending not to notice her, hoping she'd drop it.
I knew that wouldn't work, for take two, I rushed to her, my arms outstretched, my face wrought with compassion.
She gave me a halfhearted shove away, at which I looked at her with a pained expression. This caused her crying to redouble. I hobbled her over to the couch as she bawled, stroking her back and whispering sweet nothings.
"How could you, John?" She asked.
"How could I what?" I said. "What's wrong honey? You see a dead dog by the side of the road?”
"I know what you did." She said. "My coworker, Tara, saw you and *her* at Henry's Pub."
At that, she began making a wracking, coughing, hiccupy noise.
"Hon, what?" I asked, amazed. "And you believe her?"
Martha looked to the ground. A long time passed before she answered.
"I don't know." She said.
"You don't know?" I asked, incredulous. "And you haven't even asked my side? You know you're married to me, not Tara."
"Well?" She said. "You haven't denied it."
"Well, I am now!" I lied. "I am not cheating, dear. I had a business meeting at Henry's the other day. But, honestly, that you'd even believe it. God, Martha! The woman was at least in her sixties! Did Tara mention that?"
"She said she was a younger woman." Martha said quietly.
"And you believe her?" I asked.
"I don't know."
"Check my phone if you're still not sure." I said. "I have nothing to hide."
Martha very hesitantly reached out to my outstretched phone. She took it and browsed my texts, Facebook Messenger, and looked at various apps to see if they're hidden messaging apps.
She found nothing, of course, as I was wise enough to delete it all in this timeline.
Within a few minutes her sobbing redoubled with renewed vigour. She flung herself to my lap and laid there like a crumped flower.
"I'm so, so sorry John." She bawled. "I am so sorry. I can't believe Tara would do this. I'm talking to HR tomorrow."
"Oh, hon," I said. "It's okay. She's probably just bored with her pathetic life. Didn't her husband pass recently? And her kids live a few states away? She just has nothing going on in her life. Pretty sad, honestly."
Martha nodded into my jeans, smearing her makeup all over the denim. I frowned. I liked those jeans.
All the same, I stroked her hair, rocking gently until she final-fucking-ly fell asleep.
At that, I extremely carefully extricated myself from the couch, replacing my lap with a soft pillow.
I had only a few minutes as I whipped around the apartment, changing my pants, fixing my hair, and putting on cologne.
I shot a quick text to my fling that I was on my way, there in ten minutes.
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j53rrk1
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j536gn7
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[WP] Being invisible has its perks, but you can't exactly sign a lease. As such, you've become quite the expert lockpick to always have a place to sleep. When you settled into the cozy lake cabin to get out of the rain, you hear "We've been expecting you" from the shadows.
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Five simple words. Or was it six? Let’s call it six because that makes the phrase symmetrical and everyone loves symmetry.
“Peek-a-boo! I see you.”
It was the invisible man’s favorite game. He’d approach unsuspecting victims and scare the pants off of them with those six simple words. Hell, one time he effectively scared the pants *on* his buddy Ray (it should be noted that Ray was on the toilet at the untimely time of his unappreciated pranking).
But it was all in good fun. And more often than not, that good fun was even harmless fun. “What’s the point of being invisible if you can’t have a good time with it,” the invisible man was wont to say. To be sure, our invisible jester-prince was more jester than prince. No person off limits, no joke too far. Indeed, the invisible man was an equal-opportunity prankster.
It was a well known fact that our resident invisible man was in fact no resident at all. That is, he was homeless.
Now before you go on empathizing with our hapless hero, you must have all of the facts—one must not jump to conclusions. The invisible man was not homeless out of necessity, nor out of happenstance; no, the invisible man was homeless by choice.
You see, when one learns as an invisible boy that one can steal candy bars without so much as raising an eyebrow, one grows up to be an invisible man that will steal shelter without so much as raising a penny.
Now, where was I? Oh yes: it was a well known fact that our resident invisible man was in fact no resident at all. The invisible man “couch surfed” his way through life. Conventional wisdom tell us that “couch surfing” implies an inherent level of consent provided by the owner of said couch—that was not the case for our visibility challenged hero. For that reason, we’ll call the invisible man’s tact “home invasion.”
Residents in town began to grumble and groan at the thought of an invisible prankster living among them. Even his friends grew tired of his tireless antics. And, you know what, it makes sense. That would get old and fast. We’ve all been around the guy for whom everything is a joke and nothing is sacred. You know the guy in high school who walked around the locker room naked, whipping kids with a wet towel shrieking and laughing never realizing that he has already peaked in life. Nobody likes that guy. The invisible man had become that guy.
And so it was that one day, the jester-prince became the jestee-prince.
One night, the invisible man sauntered into—that is, again, committed a home invasion—a vacant bedroom that he frequented. It was in a quiet house, in a quiet neighborhood, on a quiet street. You see, even pranksters like a good night’s sleep.
As his head hit the pillow, the invisible man heard five words that shook him to his core.
“We have been expecting you!”
You see, it’s five words, not six. From earlier. “Peeka-boo. I see you!” Five words. It works better that way. It’s symmetrical. Like I told you, everyone loves symmetry.
Anyway…At the sound of the words, the invisible man launched himself out of bed and onto his feet. Only, since they were expecting him, they must have been expecting that reaction, and so as he landed on his feet he was coated from head to toe in colorful, neon pink corn starch, a sack of which had been cut from above his head.
At that moment, our invisible hero was no longer so invisible. At that same moment the invisible man’s friends realized their shocking lack of foresight and paid dearly for it.
You see, being an invisible man didn’t just mean that he didn’t have to pay for candy, or shelter, or the myriad other things one expects an invisible man may steal. It also meant—and really, had any of them given this even a second of thought it would have been obvious to them—that the invisible man didn’t need to buy clothes.
And so it was that the invisible man’s friends saw the invisible man’s pecker and all agreed to leave the pranking to the professional (i.e. the invisible man) on a go forward basis.
At the end of the day, the invisible man had also learned a valuable lesson. Don’t push your friends too far, or they may be forced to think hard on a way to get you back. And, it’s a good thing to keep in mind for us all, as we—let’s face it—all have friends who are rather dim witted who may pull a prank that leaves your pecker—or any other unseemly area—exposed in a less than flattering neon pink powder.
________
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out my other stories at r/InMyLife42Archive
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An earth elemental has many ways of concealing itself that one would never think of. As you traipse ignorantly through the woods they are always hiding. Watching. It could be an innocuous tree stump, or a mound of leaves, or even an oddly shaped acorn. Next thing you know you're facing a twelve-foot fall giant of dirt and moss ready to pound the very air out of you. Never did I expect to find one in a cabin, but that's exactly what happened one rainy night. Maybe a child had brought it in thinking it was a pet rock, or a farmer brought it in clinging to its boots. I suppose it doesn't matter how it got there, what matters is that I flew through the lock as I always do and the next thing I hear is "we've been expecting you." When I heard it use the plural "we," I expected something far more innocuous, such as a pack of shadow imps. That was before I recalled that earth elementals don't understand the common word for "I."
The creature morphed into vines, completely covering the walls and doors, trapping me in. Black flowers erupted and trained their pistils on me. A single blast would fill the air with so much particulate matter that I'd be forced to dissolve. My molecules shuddered in terror, for I thought that death was all but certain.
It was then that I remembered my reflections on the nature of consciousness. All I needed to do was somehow separate myself and then come back together as a whole. It had never been done before, but if there was a time then this was it. The first thing I did was start to swirl, going into tornado form. As expected, the pistils started blasting black dust. If I had stayed in tornado form the dust would have choked the twister and taken me with it. Instead, I focused as deeply as I could on dispersion, imagining myself being in multiple places at once.
For a moment I thought it worked when I could no longer perceive anything around me. The next thing I know I'm ingesting the black dust into my form. That's when it happened - I became a flurry of smaller twisters buzzing about. It was as if I had counteracted the black dust by harmlessly consuming it. I can't say I understand how it works, perhaps it was magic in the dust that made it happen. Scholars have attempted to study it for years, but none have been able to reproduce it.
Needless to say, the earth elemental thought they had destroyed me and retreated back into whatever form it was in. That's when I took my smaller twisters and quickly exited through the lock, unable to believe that I'd somehow survived.
The damage was irreparable though, as no amount of elemental magic has been able to put my forms back together. The change rendered me incapable of battle but did have a silver lining. As you know, the school you are flying in will never have a shortage of teachers.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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j5hku5s
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j5hjzi3
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[WP] A bar called “The Alibi” that’s notorious for being just that.. an alibi. Often packed with ex-cons, the customers of The Alibi adhere to a silent, but strict, code: If they say they were here, we saw them. They’ll always back an alibi, no questions asked.
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**ALIBI'S AFTERTHOUGHT**
The Alibi served many functions, and its rules were simple.
Firstly, if you planned to use the Alibi for its implied name, you had to shoot Alissa a text first. Alissa kept a ripped copy of everyone's credit cards in a secure drawer behind her desk. She would use your card to buy a beer, and keep the receipt. She would keep the beer for herself or her staff, of course, but for the cost of one pint on tap, you had yourself a get-out-of-jail-free card. A good deal, by anyone's standards.
The second function was jobs. Although tensions were high in Caldew, not every gang had every skill they needed at all times. Some of the criminals were more freelance. For the right price, you could get a top-tier hacker, or a surgeon to patch up one of your thugs who couldn't be seen at the hospital. You could hire muscle, of course, but that was easy. There were more rare and in-demand skills than that.
The third function was recruitment. Alissa was not personally involved, but when young men and women came of age and had no better prospects, there was a room in the back where a gang leader could grab their latest bruiser, sneaker, or spy.
Of course the lawmakers knew almost all of this, but Alissa hadn't made it to her position by being careless or thick-skulled. She had blackmail and bribes for every possible problem prepared at all times.
There was only one problem Alissa hadn't thought would come knocking on her door: freakin' superheroes.
Superheroes weren't a *thing*. No one dressed up in spandex to enact vigilante violence. Superpowers weren't a thing, either! Yet here they were, a group of probably fifteen guys, barging into Alissa's Alibi and wrecking the place.
For a split second, the security seemed unsure what to do. When they jumped up and started putting the leotard-wearing losers on their rears, most of the regulars had already begun their counterattack.
Alissa herself got involved, not needing or even wanting to use anything other than her fists. Their outright audacity had her seeing red.
It took less than fifteen minutes before the fight ended, just as abruptly as it had begun. All of the wanna-be watchmen, on an unseen signal, turned around and ran. All except for the one Alissa held in a suffocating rear naked chokehold while her favorite bartender pelted him with the best featherweight punches she could.
Disturbing the Alibi was, under normal circumstances, grounds for a very immediate vacation from the land of the living. However, for the first time in the six years since Ali had founded the bar, she brought someone into the back room that had been kept empty, save for a few knives, lengths of steel rope, and hammers. Its purpose was self-evident.
It took about twenty more minutes to get her answers, with some enthusiastic help. Ali then picked up her phone to start a group call with the two biggest gang leaders in Caldew. She stepped out into the cool, slightly drizzly night to collect her thoughts while the call connected.
"What's good?" One of the voices responded.
"Ali. Must be important for you to call both of us at once."
"I need both of you to take this seriously. I had a breakin at the Alibi."
"That *is* goddamn serious. No way it was any of my boys, right?" The first man responded.
"No, neither of your crews were involved. This was...well, it was a group of fifteen guys. Very sturdy guys. We gave them a thrashing, broke tables over them, they did not shed a drop of blood, and not one of them got knocked out either."
"Okay. Could be simple luck." The second voice responded, already bored of the call.
"No. I kept one of 'em. Got him to tell me a very interesting story. Someone out there is *inventing* superheroes. They've apparently synthesized a drug that can cause advantageous mutations."
The second voice scoffed. "If there was a drug lab working on human enhancement, I'd have bought it already."
"They're motivated *against* crime. This round they were all tough. Apparently with each fight they gather more data, and the men can receive another dose. Next round is more powerful, and when they get back from the second fight, they can get a third dose, which is even more powerful, and so on."
"So, what, superman? Green lantern? What kind of mutations are they supposed to get?" The first one asked.
"I don't know, because my...um. Newfound friend, he didn't know either."
"And who were the volunteers?"
"Memory wipe. Not sure, but if you want to lend me a contact in the police to run their faces against missing or wanted posters, I'll share everything I learn."
"Superheroes. Pff. Guess it was only a matter of time before reality became stranger than fiction." The second voice replied.
"Uh, yeah, speaking of round two..." The first gang leader said, as his voice faded away from the phone. "Someone *made* of fire is walking right into my Grave!"
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I'll continue on my sub :) r/nystorm_writes
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Detective Quincy entered the locally famous Alibi bar east of Los Angeles. It was a smoky, dimly lit bar filled with ex-cons, their rough exterior and hardened expressions betrayed their past lives behind bars. The air was thick with the scent of cigarettes and cheap liquor. Glasses clinked and low murmurs filled the room. The patrons sat at dark wooded worn tables, nursing their drinks and swapping stories. The atmosphere was tense and uneasy, as if at any moment a fight could break out. In the corner, a lone figure sat, playing a melancholy tune on a worn out piano.
Leaning up against the bar, Quincy waited for the bartender Maurice to come by. He wore a tight black shirt and tight black pants.
"Hey I'm Maurice. What can I get you this evening?" The bartender asked.
"Just the man I'm looking for. How do you do?" Quincy asked. "I'll actually pass on the drink, but thank you, though. I'm here to talk about Jonathan Byron. You see, I'm a detective. Was he here last week on Monday? That's 10 days ago."
"Oh yes, Jonathan Byron. He was here 10 days ago."
Detective Quincy smirked. "Was he here on Tuesday?"
"Yes, he was here on Tuesday."
"Very interesting. What about Wednesday?" Detective Quincy rubbed his chin. He knew that Maurice was lying.
"Uh-huh."
"Thursday?"
"Yep."
"... Friday?"
"Jonathan's got a real drinking problem if I'm being candid." Maurice chuckled.
"That's funny, so his Alcoholics Anonymous attendance is purely for show then?"
"I guess so. I don't judge." Maurice shrugged. "What's this about anyways?"
Detective Quincy scanned the bar. He knew the place well, one of the only people on the police force that actually understood what Alibi was all about. "You see, Jonathan actually disappeared. This was the last place he was seen according to an eyewitness."
"Oh. He disappeared?"
"Yeah, but he didn't take any money or steal anything. We're actually worried about his safety, Mr. Maurice. There's no way he was here this whole week. He disappeared on Monday night. Last seen going east in Arizona on Tuesday."
Maurice scoffed, irritated by getting caught in the lie. "I don't know what you want me to say. Why don't you bother the Arizona police force and get them to shake their asses for you?"
Detective Quincy cleared his throat. "This may seem like a weird question, Maurice, but how's your wife recently? Has she been depressed?"
"What else is new, pal."
"Moreso than usual?"
Maurice narrowed his eyes at Quincy.
Detective Quincy frowned. "I only ask because, and I hate to tell you this, Jonathan was having an affair with your wife."
Maurice had a vein pop in his neck. "Wait. Who is this guy?"
"I thought you knew him? I thought he came here everyday?" Quincy mocked.
"Look, I don't know this guy, okay? And stop spreading this lie that my wife is having an affair!"
Detective Quincy took a deep breath. "Maurice, I only say this because Jonathan and your wife are both in grave danger, and I need as much information as I can get if they are going to survive. Now, I can imagine you don't care for Jonathan, but you still love your wife. We need to take action now to protect her."
Maurice looked like he was about to explode with rage, but he exhaled and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. "Meet me out back."
r/randallcooper
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jwjn84n
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jwhm045
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[WP] You are an eldritch god living in a mortal body. However, you and a friend got mugged, and now they want to know why your blood is black and how you could just walk off being stabbed in the throat.
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"Oh, God. Oh, God. What did you do to him?"
"I'm sick." Is the only thing I manage to sputter out, as the thin tendrils of my flesh interweave with each other, hastily sealing the fresh wound.
Emma's eyes are wide and moist with tears, the rims of which are red from crying. Our aggressor, twitching on the pavement, babbles and gurgles something incomprehensible. A steady stream of blood flows from where his tongue was. Emma lurches over once, placing a palm on the brick wall beside us in hopes of bracing herself. With little preamble, vomit splatters on the floor, and I take a step back to avoid getting anything on my pants. She lurches once, twice more, and then retreats to heavy breathing, her gaze locked on the pool of puke slowly seeping into the porous concrete. In the silence, the man on the floor burbles once more, whimpering once he came to the realization that his eyes were not where they were supposed to be.
"Sick how?" Emma breaks the silence, likely finding conversation preferable to beholding the sounds of a man's agonized final moments.
"I'm just sick," I repeat, refusing to elaborate. I motion towards her, fingers splayed in an imploring gesture, to which she flinches. It hurts, but I am understanding.
"I've seen sick people before," Emma stammers, voice quavering. She sounds angry.
She points an index toward me, wordlessly expressing her desire for space. Despite my limitless ability and my boundless knowledge, the contempt in her eyes urges me to shatter. "You're not sick. Don't - don't fucking lie to me."
I fall silent. So too has the man on the pavement. Emma breaks down into a litany of sobs.
"Some things aren't worth knowing," I attempt to reassure, stepping forward. She mirrors my movement, taking a step back. Emma seems to grow smaller, placing her palms on her face and slackening her posture.
"Get away from me," she meekly whispers, squatting on the ground. Blood pools around her shoes. What was left of the man's arm twitches. With the skin gone, it was easy to see the way tendons grew tight and slackened with every minuscule movement. "Please. Please. Please get away from me."
"He was going to kill you. He was going to kill me." I beg. One last ditch effort, one miserable attempt at a justification.
"But he didn't. Maybe he should have," Emma says, sharply. Her voice is rough from crying, and I am penitent, drowning in my awful weakness.
I say nothing. There is nothing left to be said.
Emma sobs soundlessly, crumpled on the ground.
A street lamp flickers periodically in a desperate attempt to stay lit.
The pieces of me peel away from my body, and I slither into the sewer.
|
It happened a long time ago, when your world was young. You were a gleam in the eye of a protozoa, and I was the darkness across the solar dish.
I fed deep on the thoughts and dreams of disparate stars and planets. I was content, happy as you can understand it.
But I touched the minds of greater beings, older, larger even than I, of other spheres and disks. Cast adrift, usunder, spinning desperate without shape or form until...
This.
By the time I began to shape anew, no longer a gleam, but real things you were, in sheltered places, two foot walking. So my body took to shaping, moulding and...here I stand.
Hideous beast! Wretched thing! How I long for amorphous space!
But I can tolerate this thing holding me tight, keeping me here and bound.
So you notice, not exact same simulacrum, blood of black and wounds so easily brushed aside. I am still the black of space, in this ever turning sphere.
But I am weak, perhaps dying, and if I do, I take you all with me.
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j3cbz8s
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j3auu38
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[WP] Aphrodite is talking to Ares. "Y'know, Persephone gives Hades flowers everyday. I wish you'd do that." The next day, Ares goes to the Underworld and gives Hades flowers. "Yeah, I'm not really sure why Aphrodite wanted me to do this, but here you go."
|
The Hellish realm fell quiet as the sound of a sword being dragged across the floor echoed throughout.
Hades sighed. His nephew always instinctively made his presence known. As the darkened figure reached close, Hades cocked his brow at a familiar scent reaching his nose. ...Persephone?
That's when his face was shoved with flowers, big and beautiful of all kinds. Ares had brought him flowers of every species from all over the world.
The scent had brought in the sensitive spring Goddess as well, who perked her head out the large window above Hades' throne.
"Ares, explain yourself at once." Hades' voice boomed. Perhaps the only creatures that didn't tremble at this very moment in all of his kingdoms were his beautiful wife and moronic nephew. Persephone giggled.
"This is for you, uncle. I present you with flowers that wish to match your wife's beauty. Please accept my gift." He bowed.
"How sweet of you, Ares.' Persephone was certainly enjoying herself. 'My dear, won't you accept his declaration of love?"
"I refuse to take flowers from anyone but the queen of the Underworld. If you wish, gift them to your aunt."
"But- my love asked me to do this! I shall not return till you accept this, uncle." Ares was an adamant knucklehead, so his family knew to inquire further.
"Well, Persephone gives you flowers every day, she wished I'd do the same." The laughter that echoed throughout the darkened world almost made it seem like the divinity of the heavens. Persephone's giggles soothed the ears of the suffering and terrified them after the thunderous laughter of the King of the Underworld followed.
"Why must you laugh at a lover's plight? I am doing what she asks for, is that wrong?" He asked Kore, as she wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes.
"Oh my boy, you have much to learn! Hera would be in tears to hear about this!" Persephone wiped a tear and rushed to find his mother.
"Well lad, let me teach you the art of wooing the fairer sex..." Hades started, after taking away the flowers from his hand and placing them on his lap, finally accepting the innocent gift.
Ares sat beneath, sitting on one knee, and listened carefully as somewhere above the Goddess of Love sat expectantly, with cheeks flushed; clutching a beautiful sharp dagger that had been gifted to her by her dear the day before.
|
Hades:out of curiosity nephew, how did that conversation go?
Persephone:*currently rolling on The floor while ares explains*
Hades:it was a Mather if syntaxis i see. *Grabs some flowers given to him by his wife*,dear is it okay if I send ares with these?
Persephone:* makes an approval gesture with a hand while recovering from laughter*
Hades:next time try to ask for clarification just in case.
Ares: i will never gonna live this down, am I?
Hades: you can die this down but that is a different circumstance
Ares:... You wanted to make that joke A long time ago dint you
Hades:*smug expression* you would be surprised he w often I get the chance
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jyawslv
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jyasg91
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[WP] Some time ago you, a powerful arch fey, had gone into a deal with a noble family: you would become the godmother of their young child. Years later, you find that the parents are dead and your godchild has been forced to work for their wicked step mother and two step sisters.
|
I was browsing my gallery when I remembered. A deal, not my finest, but an interesting one nonetheless. Acting as a godmother to a human child, that was something I hadn't really encountered before. I wondered on the current status of the child. How were they, where were they in their limited lifespan?
With but a thought I bent the barriers between worlds, stepping through into a cool embrace of their waxing moon. I breathed deeply, smelling the fresh, new scent of this place. It was so different to home, changing in such a static path.
I swept through, approaching the home of my godchild. I wondered what their parents would think, about me turning up so suddenly. From what I knew of the human mind, they disliked surprises. What a dull existence I thought, but who was I to judge? They came and went in a blink of an eye.
Their quaint little mansion stood amongst carefully tended gardens. I rolled my eyes at the state of the plants, and their stunted growth. It didn't take much to give them a boost, presenting a more pleasing display. It should be free to grow wild after all, not bound to petty limits.
Through the shifting grass, and humming flowers, I approached their door, thinking. Should I knock, and avail their hospitality? Or how about the path of a sneak? I could try to catch them out in the rules of hosting. Or I could play some tricks.
I raised my fist to knock, before grinning. Nah, tricks was more fun. A puff of cream smoke shrunk me to the height of a pixie. It twisted round to from a pair of light wings, buzzing to lift me from the ground. I flew around their home, finding an open window. They were practically begging for me to enter.
Soaring through such bland corridors, I soon found my godchild. She lay curled on a worn bed, shivering beneath a threadbare blanket. How strange, she was a noble. Yet these were the boardings of the help.
A quick trip through the rooms, and I found the current state of things. Her parents were no more, much of their presence stripped from.this place. Instead, a new woman lay in the master bedroom, with two others in nearby, opulent rooms. They were no blood relation, but yet held a connection in the laws of this place. The idea of step family members was a strange concept, but that is what I was presented with.
They had consigned my charge to act as a servant, in place of her true life. Normally that would be a source of amusement, seeing them fight for prestige. But not this time. She was a reflection of me. They dared treat my property like that. It would not do.
I returned to my child, watching her sleep. What was her name again? A second passed, before it came to me. Irenda.
I adjusted her blanket, making it thicker and warmer. That would do for a start, but barely made a change. No, I would have to make sure she was restored to her rightful place.
\-----
I spent a day observing them. Irenda was treated like dirt. They made her cook, clean, and clean some more. Her dresses were much like her original blanket, only slightly better then rags. She moved with resigned sadness, thoughts of her true station clearly far beyond her.
Her stepmother was a piece of work. Loud and rude, constantly nitpicking at Irenda's work. Yet throughout it all she say on her backside, drinking away the fortune she had married into. Her temper flared whenever Irenda showed her intelligence, a jealous response I could tell.
Her stepsisters weren't any better. They laughed and bullied. They openly spoke of their night out before, and the men they had laid next to. I appreciated their openess, though despised their lack of tact. Such simple minds.
After the day, I plotted. First, I would wear them down. It was simple to include them on lists of events nobles should attend. Perfectly wonderful things like balls and performances. Yet at each one, I made things go wrong. A spilled drink here, a social faux pas there.
One particularly memorable one was where I tricked the daughters into believing some of the staff were members of the hosts family. They practically threw themselves at them, drawing all sorts of attention. Especially when I let the facade fade, with all eyes on them.
But I didn't waste all my time like that. For other times, I revealed myself to Irenda. We could speak freely with the others at one of their parties, though I didn't tell her exactly who I was. Just that I was a fairy godmother.
During these talks, I built up her confidence. I made her a few outfits that she looked beautiful in. I gave her knowledge that had been taken from her. I mimicked the requirements of human court etiquette, making her be a perfect noble woman.
Day by day, I watched her grow. Like a flower freshly planted, she blossomed under my care. She stood straighter, eyes lighting with a hopeful glow.
In contrast, her step family grew more and more miserable. They knew they were the laughing stock. But they could never figure out what was happening. It was just bad luck, and other people's fault. It wasn't their fault.
Their reputation in tatters, I went back to the door. Now to take away their money. I knocked this time, just as I knew they would be retiring for the night. Irenda knew this was coming, after I discussed it with her. Though I was looking forwards to seeing her face when I revealed my true identity.
I heard them grumble, as one of them called for Irenda to answer the door. She did so, smiling as I stood there. "Good evening Ma'am. We weren't expecting visitors."
I smiled in kind, speaking just loud enough for her family to hear. "May I enter? I have matters to discuss."
|
The invitations were simple to put together.
Though you felt revolted having to write “niece” when addressing the red-haired one, it was all necessary to arrange this meeting. You would see how much your real niece forgave her...
Truly that Fairy Godmother should have told you what happened sooner. As much as you approved of her taking a second name, young Cinderella shouldn’t have been a servant! The fey blood in your veins boiled making greenery around you sprout wicked thorns. The nearby magic folk fled having finally gained the nerve to move in the presence of an Arch Fey as yourself.
𝘗𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵. 𝘋𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘦.
Injustices were something no fairy liked to have affected them personally. It was hardly a secret that you were closer to humans than most.
—————————————————————————
Both girls arrived together precisely ten minutes early. You had to hold back a more feral smile as you sensed how powerful little Ella’s Gift grew.
The red-haired girl looked at you confused before a worried look crossed her face, you were rather small and thin by human standards. Pity no willow maiden blood flowed in her veins.
Cinderella led around the standard circles. She was just as graceful as always unlike the other one who looked out so fearfully. Could that one make it any more obvious? You waited at a wood table transfigured from an old stump. Many moon cycles had passed since you needed to revisit your formal upbringing knowledge. The putrid smell of iron lingered on the red-haired girl yet you didn’t sense any on her person. Good.
“It’s lovely to see you, great Grant,” Cinderella greeted you warmly.
A (normal) smile graced your face at the term she came up with being used. Humans were limiting themselves by only having two genders.
“As is to see you again, dear niece.” You replied in kind before turning to the other girl. “I don’t quite have your name yet. May I hear it, child?”
The look of fear on her face was delicious, “Ana—Anne, sir… ma’am…?” She seemed rather unused to the fey despite ample warning.
Nicknames were all too telling when famous or infamous. Still, you respected her attempt a little. “Lord shall suffice. I am both and neither, after all, child.” You vaguely corrected. Serving tea was a standard fair though you approved of them both bringing their own food to this. Anne didn’t drink any tea even when your niece did.
She was nearly identical to your sister. The very reason why you humored her when she was a child—mainly to teach Cinderall proper manners.
“I believe it is time to get down to business—” you commented when they were eating, “—Your Gift has grown spectacularly, dear niece. Tell me about your latest animal friends, are Bruno and Major still in good health? So much to discuss.”
Whilst Cinderella talked, you smiled viciously at the paleness in Anne’s face. Humans were always so amusing when trying to balance the rules with being courteous to your kind. “Lady” Tremaine obviously never warned her daughters about the dangers. Even illiterate peasants knew to be wary of Fae and magic folk, the smart ones were always the most paranoid people. When the conversation drifted to Cinderella’s recent-ish engagement the other girl grew even paler…
“Though I wish that Prince had asked for my blessing first, I trust you to remain to true to yourself. You are a strong girl, Ella.”
And there was that brilliant smile of your niece, “I appreciate your kind words, great Grant.”
“Of course, when I heard the story of that night from the Fairy Godmother,” you continued turning to stare directly at the red-haired girl. “I wanted to have that unpleasant woman and the girls' toes chopped off as repayment for you., dear niece.”
The reunion was hardly over after all.
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j9nmkb6
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j9na3ry
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[WP] It finally happened. Through means not yet known, everyone's physical beauty reflects their innermost selves; the kind but portly girl is now an absolute bombshell, the asshole CEO is now hideous, and so on. Nothing prepared you for what you came face to face with in the mirror, though.
|
The phenomena happened overnight it seemed. One day we all went to bed and woke up looking unholy like ourselves and yet more like ourselves than ever before. People's true inner selves were now being reflected on the outside too. A lot of upheaval occurred in the world. Hundreds of thousands of people that were outed as the vilest humans that inhabit the darkest crevices of society could not blend in anymore, and no amount of cosmetic surgery was able to change that at all. Funnily enough, cosmetic surgery
Became a failed enterprise in the medical field as those procedures no longer worked.
For literally billions on earth, their greatest wishes came through. Turns out a lot of people on earth are surprisingly wholesome and kind and it reflected in their faces and bodies now. I heard the entirety of the transgender community wept tears of joy as they transitioned overnight into their internal forms.
The craziest thing to ever occur though was the children. They transitioned too, but it turns out, kids change and grow all the time. LITERALLY now. Little kids would go to school looking one way and by day's end could end up looking like a fairy princess or child sized cowboy. They were the first to be outfitted with special watches so that at day's end they could be indentified by their parents, teachers, and guardians to and from schools and events. No one yet knows if they'll be able to do it forever and at will, or if it'll stabilize by the time they're adults.
The second group outfitted with the watches were the prisoners. That caused quite the chaos when inmates no longer looked as they had going in. Thousands were freed when their faces changed, as their crimes were once again brought back to court and determined them not guilty. Thousands more sent into prisons to replace them for their crimes. Abusers had blue hands and faces now, make up couldn't cover it up. Arsonists had charcoal stained noses. Theives' whole bodies became neon green. The truly vile became covered in huge ugly warts and boils all over their bodies. Many Politicians the world over now had comically oversized noses and distressingly thick fingers and tongues.
Then of course there were The Unchanged. Those who didn't change noticably by much on the outside. Those who wore their innerselves already proudly and honestly.
I fell into none of these categories. It took time for me to notice that first day as honestly i was exhausted and late for work. I rushed through my routines and was out the door so fast i didn't even glance in my cars reflective surface as i approached. I had changed into a being that made no sense. My hair had become like physical light floating in water. My hands and feet glowed in whisps of light trails if i moved them. My eyes lit up like someone took them from a Super hero in a comic book. I had an ethereal look about me. My little glows changed color at passing thoughts and moods. It took weeks to realize I had become what my innerself couldn't translate. Flip flopping so quickly my innerself was in constant Flux.
I was mercurial.
|
No...
I looked in the mirror.
I had woken up to every device blaring. Finland's leading research institution, named the 'SCP Foundation' after an internet poll, was sending out a broadcast to every single electronic device on Earth.
`ATTENTION ALL EARTH CITIZENS: A GLOBAL ANOMALOUS EFFECT HAS OCCURRED. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. LOOK INTO A MIRROR AND HOLD AND SECURE. ANY DEVIATION WILL BE MET WITH LETHAL FORCE UNTIL A NEW NORMAL CAN BE ESTABLISHED. CHECK YOURSELVES IN THE MIRROR IMMEDIATELY.`
That one move would stop millions of riots from breaking out, and save an estimated 1.1 billion lives. Still, when I looked at myself in the mirror...
*Who hung up a 3 foot tall poster of a incredably busty arctic fox anthro in my bedroom. Why do I even know that?*
*Oh, wait.*
***WHAT ON EARTH IS THIS!?!?!***
\-----
Civilization would become far weirder. Every year to the day, people's bodies would update. Further studies from the now-global SCP Foundation found that the changes reflected one's inner personality. I, a full anthro (and changed genders), was a deviation from the norm, which was simply another human, so I decided to pull a Dr. Bright and apply at the Foundation.
The updates never really affected me anyway, other than changing my height by a couple centimeters each time. At least everyone's genetic makeup stayed the same.
Now, over four hundred years later, I'm starting to feel my Dr. Bright joke is running very, very thin.
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liewt43
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liensjb
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[WP] You are The Evil King, and you are looking down at the body of your most fearsome and deadly fighter; all you can see is the orphaned baby girl you found all those years ago in the remains of a destroyed village.
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It’s the smell that rolls over you first. An acrid tang with a subtle sweetness. The precursor to pungent rot and decay as the fresh cloud of death wafts through the broken bodies of battle. Battle hymns carried to us from the nearby stone halls. A costly victory on the precursor of a much more deserved loss, the dread of death staved away by frothing mead and soft womanly bodies.
But in our immediacy, the prayers our saints whispered were harsh, slithering through scorched skins to reach across the pale to the departed souls in order to rend them back to this world as I saw fit. Disjointed limbs were picked through, evaluated for a higher purpose, and bodies stacked that required proper nourishment.
I had only vision-set for one body, however. My little orphan. My claimed daughter. My prized jewel.
By my estimates and scout reports, it took a small battalion of these insignificant creatures to bring her down. I’d followed pieces of her torn asunder during battle—a broken black claw dug into the armored back of a knight, fibrous membranes of wing webbing pierced through by arrow volleys, scale and tooth carved into the stricken faces of these knights of man, precious shed scale the hue of ripe bruises scattered throughout the filth—until I had traced them to this forsaken spot where she had been quartered and broken upon sword, spear and shield. *Defiled*.
How dare they take a claim of mine from me? Still. She could do better.
I extended a hand. “Get up. Who permitted you rest?”
In the moment allowed for the space of a breath, a shimmery pattern flowed over her pallid flesh, its orange hue restoring some of the vitality to this lifeless form. As I exhaled, the faint hue stilled and grew bolder, assembling and setting itself as proper symbols for rebirth. These symbols brightened so fiercely, smoke began to rise as they branded themselves into her broken body.
In the span of my next inhale, she was set and ready. Bone remolded. Muscle reknit. Skin regrown. A bleary purple eye fixed itself onto my visage and a voice that had been shredded by smoke, sword and stone addressed me once more. Music to my ears. “Master Recudir, my liege…”
I beckoned her with a flex of my fingers. However, she fell silent, head bowed. The puzzlement of her reaction was something I couldn’t trifle with when I had commanded her to stand. I turned away from her to take in the symphony of our victory instead. A scorched landscape packed with scattered treasures to salvage and lay claim to. “I said get up. We have much work to do.”
She shuffled to her feet, rose to her proper height, grafted wings unfurling. Off her rolled away the vivaciousness of my reclamation magic. Mere dusting on the corpses of men around her, but enough for their souls to tremble in their broken forms. I’d make use of them yet.
|
Zacarias strolled through the training hall. His steps were slow, needing a cane to support most of his weight. Yet he doesn't lag behind anyone, nor walks with a crooked spine. His stroll is refined and filled with power from his station, only slowed by the weight of the years and the crown.
He IS the king, whose ascension was bloody, violent, yet legitimate. And because of that, many call him Evil. His exploits are known in other lands, far from here... All received with awe and horror, for many still see his red hand dripping with the blood of his enemies... Enemies of his beloved kingdom.
He comes looking for someone. His youngest fighter, yet the most effective. One whose young age is more of an asset than a hassle.
Margarita was her name, climbing the military ladder... ready to spill more blood for her king.
And yet, her story is the same as most of her siblings... Not related by blood but by loyalty and love for the so-called Evil King... The same self-proclaimed monster that adopted her, and so many more from the ruins of their old village.
The king finds her... he is in no hurry, he has time... and can make for his children.
Especially his youngest. An innocent child between the ruins... crying. One of his many steps towards redemption.
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jnsprbo
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jnrbnnz
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[WP] For 10 long years war has raged while the Galactic Committee held a tight leash on the humans; stating "We do things a certain way". Now, with the enemy closing in, the leash comes off.
|
Been a while since I wrote anything and it's not perfect by any means, but here is what I came up with.
---------------------------------------------
Sylfax Orno was scratching right by his only remaining mandible without scars as he read the latest report from his spy within the galactic empire capitol. "You are in deep manno this time, second trium Orno. That planet you guys hit in Andromeda was apparently a nursery for young Axgloms, and within minutes of it being blown into pieces they called for a grand meeting with only one ticket on the docket. They were fed up with allowing the war to go on and proposed that the empire allows something called Project Murderhobo to end it once and for all. I am still gathering intel on what the project is, but it is apparently serious enough that nobody would vote for full initalization. The vote that passed was for a partial deployment with the codename Flip-Flop. But even if it is partial, whatever it is scares the army leadership so much that the entire frontline has been ordered to retreat. Deep Five out."
The second trium of the fifth fleet was frantically searching his memories for any mention of such a project while he was still in the imperal army, but he kept drawing a blank. "What in the world are they planning?" He muttered as his mandibles clacked together in annoyance. The communications room was mostly dark since he had given the intel crew an early lunch, but it got brightly lit as the door opened without warning. "Tell me you have something that explains why all the troops we encounter are retreating without a fight, second trium. This is getting spooky and I don't like it. The frontline has been stuck for ages at this point, and it makes no sense for them to fly off now."
First trium Neran Claxx stood in the doorway looking decidedly haggard. His carapace was dull and the guard hairs along his neck were sticking in all directions. Sylfax could even smell manno, letting him know that his superior was distracted enough to have forgotten to clean himself after going to the waste room. Sylfax had never seen Neran like this, not even when they deserted from the empire after deciding that they would find more honor in battle as attackers rather than as defenders. The big fat paycheck and the rank they got for doing it had nothing to do with it of course. Mostly. "Deep Five reports that something called Project Murderhobo has been activated, with codename Flip-Flop designated as the degree of deployment. With those unconventional names I was trying to remember if I had heard of it before we switched sides, but I cannot say I have." Sylfax tried to keep his report professional, but the confusion was evident in his voice.
The panic on Neran's face though, that was immediate. "They did WHAT?! Sound the retreat! Now! Get us out of this system on the double! Code Doom!" Sylfax had no idea what Neran knew, but it was evidently bad enough to warrant immediate action. He picked up the communicator shell and shouted into it. "Fifth fleet, this is second trium Sylfax Orno. We are ordering an immediate full retreat! This is a Code Doom. This is not a test. Get moving!" Behind him, Neran Claxx had gotten a boost to his slithering speed that none could have replicated even in a sports event and was already halfway to the bridge. Sylfax stayed behind for a little longer to make sure the entire fleet had gotten the message before he moved towards the bridge as well. In the mean time the intel crew had come back holding half-eaten Blargian worms in their mandibles, half grumbling about being interrupted, half nervous about what it could be.
Once he arrived on the bridge, it was utter chaos. All the bridge crew was hustling back and forth, handing out weapons in case of boarding while a group was going through emergency pod procedures just in case. "Inform first and second fleet to engage warp and get their slow appendages back to the capitol immediately! We are at code Doom. And tell those lazy good-for-nothings in the engine room to push it as hard as they can! I am not dying in this dump of a system." The orders from Neran were loud and to the point. Sylfax Orno moved over by the first trium's side after he finally stopped shouting, and gave his superior a questioning and nervous look. "What is Project Murderhobo?"
Neran started to brush his guard hairs down in an effort to look more presentable, and to gain more time. But eventually he let out a breath and opened his mandibles in exasperation. "Humans, Sylfax. Humans from the Milky Way. Those insane imperials are going to destroy us all. Project Murderhobo is a last resort plan to take the humans away from their sanctuary and put them on the battlefield. They are the reason the Felinis have a permanent spot on the security council. The last time the Felinis let their humans out, they caused the Dead Sector. They are the 'plague' behind that blighted place, as you learned about in school. We just don't include the exact nature of the plague in our history books because using them was a warcrime of the highest order. They were only deployed to win an unwinnable war against a feathered race called the Unexo who wanted to rule the galaxy alone." The guard hairs went right back to being an unruly mess as he talked, despite Neran's best efforts.
"Codename Flip-Flop means they are deploying Australians to the war. The most dangerous type of human ever to be invented. They have no fear, drink a dangerous poison they call Great Northern just because they find it delicious, and they are the kind of spiteful being that wanders into battle without any armor while wielding a terrifying weapon known as the Flip-Flop. There is a reason the Unexo are no longer around. The humans killed and ate them all. Roasted them over fire and ate them in a gruesome ceremony the Australian called 'Barbie'. The only reason the humans stopped fighting was because there was nothing left to fight or eat. And they only follow the orders of the empire because the emperor and the Felinis they share a planet with are 'cute cats', whatever that means."
|
One of the last stories mama told me before I was sold to the Ammius Family was that of the Death Knell. She told me that even though we humans were small, weak-minded, and fragile compared to the rest of the members of the Galactic Committee, we knew the sound of our Death Knell from birth. And once you heard it, there was very little to do except heed the call.
*"You can run and hide and fight all you want,"* She'd told me that night, her gray eyes heavy and dark, *"But it's only a matter of time before it comes to collect you."*
*"What does it sound like, Mama?"* I'd asked, not realizing it would be the last words uttered with any semblance of innocence, *"And why can't anybody else hear it?"*
Her mama had told her stories about the planet Earth, where humans had once lived before the Families Ammius and Gaiserc had taken over and secured humans as pawns for their war. Her mama told her about buildings with towers where the Death Knells slept, waiting in the lofty shadows for the next victim to summon with their metal tongues.
It used to bother me that I could not remember her answer to my last question. I'd spend my hours of training searching for her response, each distant echo of her words becoming another scar on my skin, another crack in my bones. I'd study the scars as a Gaisercish Shaman might study the bone broth of a freshly sacrificed Munsila, following each discolored line with my eyes until it became too dark to see, then tracing my fingers up and down my skin until I was too tired to keep searching for that illusive pattern I knew was there somewhere. Somewhere between my patchwork skin and aching muscles.
And sometimes when I slept, I was falling endlessly from a great tower to the tune of a strange and terrible symphony of sounds I could never remember when I awoke, not for love nor money. If any of the other humans that trained with me knew about the Death Knell or had dreams similar to mine, they never spoke of it.
But I grew up. And with that, the story of the Death Knells and towers became one more thing I couldn't afford to lose sleep or concentration over. Not with the war brewing. The Death Knell would come for me eventually, and until then I needed to focus on the present. The here and now.
The back door to the dorms slowly creaking open.
Delicately placed footprints that mimicked a building sighing in the cool night's breeze after a long, hot day.
There was no breeze tonight.
Words mumbled under the influence of sleep, followed by the shuffle of blankets as one stirs.
There is little that can fully muffle someone's last breath, wet and raspy as they choke on their own blood.
The pitter-patter of rain, not uncommon for this time of year.
It doesn't rain indoors.
Closer and closer the sighing footsteps came, each pause filled with the dying gasp of a fellow trainee. Tighter and tighter I gripped my own knife hidden under my pillow, my blood pounding like war drums in my head. Do I scream? How many are left before the assassin reaches me? Can I take them in a fight, or will I succumb to a similar fate? Does it matter? Is this all my life has come to? Is my Death Knell the dying breaths of those before me simply because I'm the furthest away?
My Death Knell...
No. This is not my Death Knell. This *will not* be my Death Knell.
All at once, my scattered thoughts settle and a calm fills me even as the sighing footsteps stop at my bed.
*This is not my Death Knell.*
A gloved hand wraps around my face over my mouth, then tilts my head up to expose my neck.
*I will not die tonight. This call does not beckon to me.*
The assassin freezes when they see my eyes open, and shock turns to excruciating when I jam my knife into the inside of their upper thigh. He howls and drops his knife, falling to the floor in a rapidly growing puddle of his life blood. I take his knife, the hilt warm and slightly sticky with blood, and thank whoever's listening that the blade did little more than graze my collarbone.
The assassin is dead in the time it took me to test the weight of his dagger against my smaller knife, tuck said smaller knife back into it's sheath at my thigh, and then swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand up.
When I reach the front door, which swings silently open, I cake my feet in the dust and sand so I won't trail bloody footprints when I make my way to each dorm.
You can run and hide and fight, but when the Death Knell is calling it's only a matter of time before it collects you.
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j5xrd46
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j5wxch8
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[WP] Your superpower isn’t anything special. You can make stuff disappear behind your back then pull it back out again. When a friend at a party asks you to do it to them it sounds like a great laugh. But when you pull them back out they look older, disheveled, and are frantic to be sent back.
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“You mean … I’ve been sending objects to the future?”
Alex had returned looking quite ragged, and nearly passed out. We had urgently asked everyone else to leave while I attended to him.
“Yes!” Alex replied, “and after you sent me, I’ve been in contact with others. Or … will be in contact with them … oh, it’s all so confusing. But I’ve got to go back!”
“Wha, what? … What for?”
“There’s been a terrible plague, which has wiped out most of humanity. A few scientists have quarantined with their families, but most of the masses have died off… but it can be stopped! We happen to be at just the right time to…”
A loud knocking on the door interrupted Alex mid-sentence.
“I’ll go get it,” I said.
“No! There’s no time, let me get on your computer.”
“It’s upstairs, who the h-“
The knocked repeated, so hard the floor shook beneath me.
“Who the hell is that!?” I said, following him upstairs.
“You’re not the only one who can facilitate time travel. Now close the door.”
He began frantically typing at the keyboard.
“You were only gone for like, 30 seconds. How long were you there?”
“Three hours. They gave me instructions on how to avoid the plague altogether, but they also warned me that …”
*THUD*
*CRASH*
The entire house shook as my front door was kicked in. Boots thudded on the ground as the intruders began searching the house.
Alex whispered intently, “Lock the door!”
I turned the lock as quietly as I could, my heart pounding. Someone was coming up the stairs.
Alex was frantically scrolling through a large PDF of a patent filed by Monsanto, looking for just the right page.
The door handle jerked suddenly and I jumped back instinctively.
“UP HERE, BOYS,” shouted the man just beyond the door, “HE MUST BE HERE.”
The next couple seconds happened in a blur. Alex snapped a picture on his phone of a molecule on screen, then urged “Send me back, Now!!”
The door crashed open and the intruder spotted Alex immediately. This tank of a man came right for him, but it was too late. With a swish of my arm, Alex was swept right back to the future he visited moments ago, and then the world went dark.
——————-
Suddenly, Alex and I were back in my house, breathing heavy, adrenaline coursing through our veins, but safe. The doors were all perfectly in tact.
“What … the … hell just happened?!?” I asked. “The doors… they were kicked in, and know they’re fine! How did you get back? I didn’t pull you back, just suddenly we were back here.”
“Well… technically, it never happened.”
I stared blankly at him. “Of course it happened, we just survived that shit, what do you mean?”
“The scientists developed a cure once they had some more information about how the virus was made. The plague was accidental at first, but some other powerful survivors wanted to keep the world… culled. So they sent henchman after me once they traced my time leap.”
I sat there silently.
“So, in essence, while it did happen, because we were successful, none of it will happen.”
“You’re giving me a headache,” I replied.
“Let’s grab a beer and forget that never happened,” Alex said.
“Agreed,” I replied.
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So here’s the deal:
My back is a portal. I can put things in and take them out kind of like when a cartoon character pulls something from behind them. Pocket dimension powers are handy, but they aren’t anything crazy.
I don’t know what mine looks like at all so when my friend wanted to check it out I saw it as a win win. When I pulled him back out though, it looked like he’d been in there for weeks and he begged to go back. Eventually he calmed down and a few days later he discussed the world as calmly as he could. While he was calm the experience left him in shambles and while this is recoverable within a few months at a ward so getting a straight answer is next to impossible.
From what I could gather, it was a paradise like living within one’s own imagination even coming equipped with living creatures. In that world Steve was able to live out all of his greatest dreams and desires from the relatively simple like getting a girlfriend to the more complex ones like becoming a hero or running his own business where he sells baked goods. He heard tales from the entities there of the fated hands that can give great gifts and just as easily take them away at their beckon call and he was eventually taken too.
According to him he spend 3 months in there and this world is all he talks about now. I feel bad for Steve and due to court order, I’ll never be able to see him again with me being relocated to make sure psychological well-being is kept
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m1ha46f
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m1gszgq
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[WP] "And so I was cursed with immortality. Cursed to walk the earth for eternity, never aging past twenty five and never dying." "How old are you, then?" "...Seventy. It was quite recent actually."
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“Can you really say you're cursed if you're only seventy years old? That’s not really curse territory, is it? More like a mild inconvenience. Even calling it a mild inconvenience would be a stretch since it hasn’t really affected you.” Diana said, not believing Xavier’s story in the slightest. Everyone always had some farfetched story when they came to see her, and in moments like these, she couldn’t help but entertain their delusions. Not to mention, entertaining their delusions got her out of doing any actual work, able to ignore the stack of papers on her desk. The ones that sat beside the framed photos of her loved ones and her favorite coffee mug.
“I’m telling you the truth. I’m seventy years old. Look, check my license. That will prove my age.” He pulled out his driver’s license, sliding it across the desk. Diana collected it, flipping it over, checking its authenticity.
No matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t find any signs of forgery. The way the light reflected off it, the correct number of layers to its design. If it were a fake, it was one of high quality. “Sorry, sir. I still can’t approve you for a pension.”
“But I’m seventy years old. Every seventy-year-old is allowed a pension. It’s the law.”
“Sir, even the best plastic surgeons on the market couldn’t make a seventy-year-old look as young as you do. Even with a license, I can’t imagine anyone approving your application. Is this for some sort of prank show? Are cameras secretly filming me? You’re the second customer I’ve had this month that’s claimed to be immortal.”
That was news to Xavier, unable to believe another immortal existed. “There was another? Who were they? What were they like?”
Diana tapped her cheek, trying to remember the name the man gave her. “Well, I’m not allowed to give customer details, but since it was a fake name, I suppose there’s no harm in it. He called himself Kevin, the grand wizard of Barlia. The one who slayed the awful beast, and claimed the land. The one who- Yada Yada. He was a real talker, that one. Said if I didn’t approve his request, he would kill the person most dear to me.”
Xavier gasped, the immortal feeling sorry for the poor women. Who had she lost? He knew he shouldn’t ask, but curiosity got the better of him. “Did someone die?”
Diana sighed, looking at the framed photo on her desk. It was a photo of Kipo, the blonde-haired bad boy with a gentle heart, who had been tragically killed off in season 2 of Sexy Kung-fu bad boys. She stared at the framed, animated man, letting out an even heavier sigh again. “I guess someone did die.”
The immortals heart wept for her, until he leaned over and saw the photo, growing more confused than anything. “Ah. Ok.” was all he said, standing upright again. “So, how am I meant to prove my age, then? Can they check my pulse or something?”
Pulling herself away from the photo, Diana thought about that. “We could cut you in half and check your rings. Like how they check a tree’s age. At least I think that’s how they check a tree’s age.”
“That isn’t helpful at all. Are you making fun of me?”
“No, not at all. I’m insulting you. This isn’t fun at all.”
Xavier took a pen from his pocket, folding up the form he had brought to the FSE Pension department. After writing a list of complaints, he pointed to their complaints box. “Don’t make me put this in the box.”
“Go ahead, try to stuff it in there. That thing hasn’t been opened in years. I think we still have complaints from before you were even born, Mr. Immortal.”
The man scrunched up the form, frustrating he couldn’t do anything to get this application through. “This isn’t over. I’ll find a way to get my pension.”
“Why don’t you try doing it online? That way, no one would see your face. I mean, they’ll still see your driver’s licence, but it’s less suspicious.” She said, deciding to offer him an actual piece of advice now that this conversation was dragging on close to her lunch break.
“Huh, that’s actually… helpful?” Xavier didn’t know what to make of that. He unfolded the scrunched up paper with a smile and scribbled a few compliments onto it. “Thank you. I’ll do just that.” He said, before putting his form in the thank you/compliments box. As the paper landed inside, a puff of dust escaped the box, like a spirit had been freed from its confines.
As Xavier left, a new person stepped forward, only to get blocked by Diana’s ‘be back soon’ sign. “Lunch break.” She said, leaving the line of already frustrated customers more agitated. Before leaving her desk, she smiled. “If you have any complaints, feel free to write them down. We are always looking to improve our services.” She teased, heading to lunch.
(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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Warning: The following contains violence and disfigurement.
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**Description:** SCP-1763 is a male, measuring 173cms. It has blond hair, with abnormally pasty skin. His cells regenerate, making him functionally immortal. However, his cell regeneration will fail during any kind of combat situation, wherein another individual is attempting to kill SCP-1763.
**Dr. Fawkes:** "so..." *(Dr. Fawkes takes a breath)* "...do you have any plans? I mean, I can look for a cure...*maybe,* but..."
**SCP-1763:** *(Subject sighs)* "I don't know, you have any ideas?" *(Before Dr. Fawkes can answer, SCP-1763 hastily adds)* "what to do, not...y'know."
**Dr. Fawkes:** "Can you die?" *Dr. Fawkes pulls out his phone, opening the notes section.*
**SCP-1763:** *(Subject shakes his head)* "tried. My cells regenerate, I tried fire, but they generate faster than they can burn. Includes my brain," *subject groans, followed by* "...I mean, my brain will lose its capacity, but when it regenerates back, it'll be fine eventually."
**Dr. Fawkes:** "So...like Wolverine?"
**SCP-1763:** "Yeah, I..." there was a pause, before he said "...not in combat, *then* they stop regenerating. They thought of everything, unfortunately. Takes day before it comes back. Don't screw with a thaumaturgist, man!"
**Dr. Fawkes:** "Tragic, indeed..." *Dr. Fawkes begins typing on his phone,* "Well, do you want to be hidden, perhaps?"
**SCP-1763:** "Hidden?"
**Dr. Fawkes:** "Yeah. Hidden, like...from the world?"
**SCP-1763**: "I mean..." *SCP-1763 sighs,* "...if I'm going to be immortal, then...I should see the world, right?"
**Dr. Fawkes**: "Surely, but if you could be say...contained, like-"
**SCP-1763**: "Contained?"
**Dr. Fawkes**: "Yes. Keep you from the world at large, so you can be peaceful?"
**SCP-1763**: "I mean...I'd prefer not to."
**Dr. Fawkes**: *Dr. Fawkes sighs, cleaning his glasses, then reaching for his M1911 sidearm in his other hand.* "So, you don't regen during combat you say?"
**SCP-1763**: "What?"
**Dr. Fawkes**: "I'm sorry, but...it's my job," *Dr. Fawkes draws his M1911. SCP-1763, initially shocked, begins to rush at Dr. Fawkes, hands outstretched. However, two meters before reaching Dr. Fawkes, the gun is discharged twice, causing SCP-1763 to collapse to the ground, and Dr. Fawkes pulls out a knife, cutting off SCP-1763's arms and legs. SCP-1763 screams as this is happening,* "Sorry, but they'll grow back.
**SCP-1763**: "What are you doing, Jay!?"
**Dr. Fawkes**: "...my job, unfortunately...gonna be a..." *Jay grunts as he finishes cutting an off,* "...hard sleep tonight..."
**SCP-1763**: "Your job!?"
**Dr. Fawkes**: "Yep. Secure, Contain, Protect." *Pause* "Wait, I have a morphine-this'll make it better," *Dr. Fawkes inject SCP-1763 with a 25 milligram dose of morphine.*
*-*
**Addendum 2:** SCP-1763 has began to cooperate, following extended containment. However, SCP-1763 escaped December 2nd, 2019, and has no been recovered since. Its tracker was removed through currently unknown means.
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k3mo7uy
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k3l5b9f
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[WP] In a world of magic, where wands are used, the world's top sorcerer tells you that in the first days of Sorcery, swords with blades embued with magic were used instead, and that your magic is too strong that a wand is simply not enough.
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"What," Raena asked, confused.
"A sword would be better suited to one of your, er, talents, my dear. Thousands of years ago, when the strongest of sorcerers walked the land, they used magically imbued swords, not wands," Merlan the Summoner explained again. "A wand would not be able to contain and focus your magic properly. It would overload and explode. This is why your wands keep exploding and why you keep ending up here in the healers' ward."
"You can't be serious," Raena exclaimed with disbelief. "I am *not* that powerful! I can't be, I can barely cast a proper spell!"
Shaking her head, Merlan calmly explained again that Raena's magical capabilities were extremely high. The issue was the tool at hand, a wand, and was not capable of focusing her immense power. Raena sat there in the cot in the healers ward with a stunned look on her face. Clearly, still not believing the strongest sorceress in the world.
"Are you feeling up to a walk, Raena," Merlan asked. Nodding, Raena slowly got to her feet, not knowing what to expect. "Come dear, and I will show you what I mean," Merlan said kindly.
As they left the healers ward, they walked through the stone hallways of the academy. Their footsteps echoed in the silent halls as they made their way to the training grounds, which were empty at this time of night. The moonlight illuminated the sands of the training ground, and made the practice dummies look sinister and eerie.
"Here, dear, try the same basic spell as you tried earlier, but instead of a wand, use this," Merlan commanded, pulling a beautifully made silver sword from her storage pouch. The handle was wrapped with silver wire with a fire opal on the pommel, the sword itself shone with an inner light.
"I-I couldn't! Isn't that- Dawnfire? Its a relic! What if I damage it," Raena stuttered in disbelief. Dawnfire was once weiled by the greatest sorcerer to have ever lived, thousands of years ago. Baleor the Magus. A hero of legend. It was said he had killed the Mad God with Dawnfire.
"Come now, child. Do you really think a blade of this caliber would be easily harmed or destroyed? It's survived centuries of use by common hands. So come now, take it," Merlan said, holding Dawnfire out to Raena.
Raena hesitantly gripped the pommel. Then looked askance at Merlan.
"Go on, just a simple beginners spell my dear. Any one of the elements will do. Just focus through the sword, just like with the wands."
Slowly Raena gathered her power, letting it fill her as she concentrated on a simple fire spell. Holding the image of a small ball of fire in her mind, she focused on the sword and pushed. *Whoosh* A large ball of fire erupted from the tip of the sword rushing across the training grounds to *splat* on a training dummy that just happen to be in the way. The fire consumed it, leaving nothing but ash in its wake. Raena stared in dumbfounded disbelief.
"Well, that went better than expected," Merlan dryly noted. "It seems you are indeed a spellblade."
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\[Skipping Steps\]
Dante followed the old wizard down the narrow spiral staircase. The wizard's stone tower felt cold and drafty. The wizard held a staff up in front of him with a glowing ball of light on the tip; it made it a lot easier to see than the few dim candles embedded in the walls. The entire experience so far had been exciting, and he couldn't help but grin to himself as he traveled down the steps. He was still at the beginning of his adventures.
"In the early days of Sorcery, enchanted swords were used as a focus. It required a great deal of magic power to imbue metal and over time they discovered other, easier materials to imbue...," he laughed with a wheezing chuckle. "...now any dolt with a wand thinks he's an arch-sorcerer. Wood's a great conductor for magic; but, it's horrible for storing it. "
"Is that why my wands keep breaking?" Dante asked. He knew he didn't need to say anything. He could have rushed the old wizard and skipped the backstory altogether; but, he was enjoying himself. Dante had the ability to replay moments of time like save files, and he spent a lot of years replaying a lot of the same ones over and over. He'd forgotten how novel new experiences could be, and he was in the right place to take advantage of them.
"Even the best conductor can be overloaded with too much energy," the old wizard replied with a nod. "Some wizards might tell you that you're lacking control; don't listen to them," he chuckled as they reached the bottom of the stairs. A long narrow hallway led to a single golden door; they continued forward. "Does a waterfall lack control? A raging river?"
"No...?" Dante chose to answer the rhetorical question. They seemed like poor examples though, and he wasn't sure the wizard was using the right analogy.
"YES! They do!" the wizard cackled as they reached the golden door. He tapped the glowing staff to it, and the door disintegrated into white dust. "But, that is the nature of their existence; to control it would fundamentally change it. Such things can't be controlled; but, they can be harnessed."
He stepped into a small stone room with a wooden table in the center. Three different swords lay on the table, a short sword, a rapier, and a large great sword.
"Which one will you choose to harness your magic?" the wizard asked as he gestured at the three weapons.
"What can you tell me about them?" Dante asked. He already had a choice in mind before meeting the old trainer. But, he still wanted to hear what the wizard had to say.
"The short sword is an ideal starting place for a Sword Mage," he said. "It has the perfect balance of power and speed if you don't know what you're looking for. And, of course, you can change your mind at any time and use a different one. The rapier is the quickest weapon Sword Mages can use, both for spellcasting and swordplay. But, if you want power, the Great Sword is for you. It can be tempered with two spells simultaneously for even greater flexibility."
Dante was slightly disappointed that he didn't learn any new information. But, it did make his decision easier. He stepped forward and grabbed the rapier handle. The sword he chose began to glow with golden light as the other two disintegrated into nothing.
"Excellent choice!" the wizard smiled. "Now, let's head outside and see what you can do...," he added. He walked past Dante and out of the room again. Dante lingered for a moment to play with the heft of the sword. It felt solid. It felt real, and deadly as he twisted it and thrust it forward. Then, the golden glow dissipated and a line of red text appeared in his vision.
\[Sword Mage spec - Rapier\] equipped.
"Oh, I can't wait for this anymore...," Dante chuckled. He turned to see the old wizard waiting for him at the foot of the stairs. He stepped to the door and shouted across the narrow hall. "SKIP!" he said. The wizard disintegrated and a new line appeared in Dante's vision.
\[Tutorial Complete\]
"Yeah! Now, I gotta go see what this can do!" he smiled as he wiggled his fingers at the air and a tall black portal opened. He stepped into it and disappeared.
\*\*\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #2087 in a row. (Story #277 in year six.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a Corporation in my universe. The stories can be found in order on my subreddit: here.
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jiq0z5n
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jiprbo8
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[WP] In a world of dragons, sorcery, war, and monsters, there are many risks and even risk takers. Everyone though, elf, monster, or man knows to avoid those few ancient ruins that contain symbols of suffering and a word of the ancients, RADIATION.
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Long ago, a single dragon flew over the ruins of Hokrish Mountain. Her name was Utaria. Bound by a curse that not even the Gods could undo, she was trapped upon the rock for eternity. Given infinite time to study the secrets hidden deep within the world, she rose to the power of a God herself. Still unable to free herself, it is said that she eventually wrought a spell so powerful that it tore her asunder, leading to what scholars dubbed the "Radiation."
It is there that Utaria's descendants, still trapped by the ancient curse, rose from the magic essence that defined her. They're comprised of a panoply of dragons and dragon-like creatures that have untold powers. From the foothills of the Shatterack Mountains, you can see their neon forms writhing in and out of shape high in the air. If you listen closely, you will hear their cries for freedom deep in the night.
Journeying to the Radiation is not just perilous, it's certain death. Not a single traveler has entered the Radiation and lived to tell the tale. Utaria's creatures, bored and craving anything new, will consume all that trespass their boundaries. Their power is unmatched, not even the greatest scholar that ever lived was able to compete with them for a single moment without being snatched.
We are only thankful that the ancient curse of the Gods keeps them locked away, for if they were to gain entrance to our world then I'm afraid we would all be in great peril. Nobody understands the curse, or why it works, and I'm afraid the only way to know would be to go deep within the caverns of the very mountain where it originates.
\--Snippet of a Letter By Scholar Magmius, Est. Year 1104 after the Crowning of Thistledale. 540 years before the Breach
Granted to the Museum by the family of Scholar Magmius
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First time writing a prompt and english is not my first language.
“I want that dragon dead!”
“Sire we can’t attack the dragon at it’s hoard. The plaguedragon lives in the forbidden forest, we can’t reach her.”
“Pah, that beast has been pestering my kingdom since time immemorial. Find a way to slay her, I’m sick of her, every couple of years it ransacks our grain storage and shortly thereafter her brood descends that sicking Mushroom forest.”
“That might be true sire but how are we meant to approach? The last time your father Curie III send in an expedition they shortly returned and died an agonizing death over the next couple of weeks. And their armor could not be reused whoever wore it after died as well, albeit slower. The brood is also quickly deposed of by our glowing guardians – shall their fur be ever glowing.”
“Shall their fur be ever glowing … fine, then send for the Wizard immediately, he shall think of something.”
“Of course Sire, I’ll inform the mighty Oppenheimer immediately.”
\-
“It is I, Oppenheimer, you have summoned me Sire?”
“Yes yes, you are to find a solution to the menace Typhon.”
“The creature living in the mushroom forest Sire? What of it?”
“My knights reminded me that her lair is unapproachable. Because of the folly of the Ancients.”
“Aaah yes most unfortunate, well we could try several approaches Sire? All of them quite costly one way or another.”
“What do you propose Wizard?”
“Three ideas come to mind. First ask your elderly knights if they would be willing to slay the beast. They will surely die, but they might be willing since their names would go down in history, also give their families an incentive. Second the ancient texts mention a metal, which protects from the folly of the Ancients. The blacksmith could fashion armor out of it, if we are able to find it my Liege. Third, we wait for Typhon to approach the next time and fight it while it raids a grain storage or poison the grain in the hopes that this will kill it.”
“I like your ideas Wizard, even though I’m skeptical that she can be killed by poison if she lives in such a hazardous area. We shall do all three proposals together. Find out if there is a mine of this wondrous metal in my Kingdom, if not acquire enough from the neighboring kingdoms. Fashion suits of armor out of it with the blacksmiths and give it to anyone who is willing to fight the beast, I want at least 20 men. If possible find a poison which is able to injure the creature if not alright kill it.”
“Sire such things take time, I’m not sure if we will be ready by the next attack.”
“Well she hasn’t destroyed the kingdom yet find a solution as fast a possible.”
“If I may, if the guardians - shall their fur be ever glowing...“
“Shall their fur be ever glowing.”
“wouldn’t kill the entire brood I could study the young and find a suitable poison, maybe find a weakness…“
“Oppenheimer you know as well as I, that no one can control the guardians. They go wherever they please. Also I find the idea of the living brood rather uncomfortable. If you want a specimen you’ll have to find a dead one which they guardians left.”
“Of course Sire, anything else?”
“No get to work, I want that Dragon dead.”
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j6lml7j
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j6ljhjc
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[WP] In the history of the known universe, every war has only been fought with conscripted soldiers. The galaxy was thus unprepared when Humanity entered a galactic conflict with a trained professional fighting force.
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For centuries the Galactic Confederation saw Earth as little more than an insignificant backwater planet, with the native sentient species, humanity, more interested in in fighting than exploration and discovery. In fact, most of their technological advancements were spurned on by conflict. Nuclear energy was discovered as part of a project to harness it for a weapon of mass destruction during the second of ultimately three devastating, global conflicts. Even when they began their own space exploration, it was motivated mainly by competition between the two largest nations on Earth.
​
The galaxy saw them as nothing but barbarians. Backwards savages. Their propensity for warfare was seen as a weakness as humans always seemed to be eager to bite off more than they could chew. They were impatient and reckless, not as cool, calculated, and diplomatic as the other galactic races. In fact, fearing that this would lead to their downfall, the Galactic Confederation declared humanity's home system a protected territory. No foreign vessel was allowed to enter. Aside from a few sightings of illegal vessels in the sky, and some incidents in the Earth regions of Roswell, Nevada, and elsewhere, this ban was extremely effective. Humanity was officially designated as an "Uncontacted Primitive Race" by the Galactic Confederation, one of the few races to be unaware of the vast Galactic Community surrounding them. Little did the galaxy know, this aggressive warlike tendency of this primitive species would in fact prove to be their biggest strength.
​
Things really started to change in the middle of Earths 21st century. The Hygna were undergoing a crisis on their home planet, as it was going through an unexpectedly rapid mass extinction. They knew billions would die unless a full planetary evacuation was put into place. The only problem was, they did not know where to go. Practically all nearby habitable planets were claimed by some other power, and attempting to settle on any of those worlds would cause a massive refugee crisis. Their only option was invasion. And the only viable planet to invade was Earth.
​
And it seemed to be a perfect candidate for invasion. It was inhabited by a primitive race that was still in the infancy of its space age, having not even developed faster-than-light travel yet. It was just recovering from what would be the last of its three major global conflicts. And its people were nearly completely ignorant of the other races of the galaxy. It would be foolish not to seize on the opportunity.
​
Or so it seemed.
​
Overconfident that their vast technological superiority would guarantee them a quick and easy victory, not much thought was put into planning the invasion, and it was relatively hastily organized. That was their first mistake. Their second mistake was underestimating humanity's resolve.
​
The invasion went horribly for the Hygna. Humanity's warlike nature meant they had more organized and properly structured militaries, and, while still less developed compared to the rest of the galaxy, more advanced strategy and tactics than would be expected for a race so primitive. But the most surprising innovation of all was that they had professional, standing armies, with soldiers specifically trained and prepared for years for conflict. Such had war become so normalized in human society.
​
Worse still for the Hygna, they had just violated Galactic Law, by invading protected territory and causing conflict with an Uncontacted Primitive, alienating themselves from many other Confederation member states. Yet many others defended the actions of the Hygna as necessary, pointing out the necessity to leave their home planet for survival. Their chief rival, the Yasak, declared war on them to protect what they saw as the underdog humans, forcing them to divert attention and resources from the invasion which was already going miserably. The allies of the Hygna, such as the Oturim, Ys'an, and Zylrot, as well as many others, jumped into the war, and consequently so did many allies of the Yasak. Quickly, it snowballed into a galactic conflict.
​
Many saw the humans as merely being the ignition of a greater conflict mainly involving the rivalry of the Hygna and the Yasak. But they turned out to be a far more important player than thought.
​
As their planet was ravaged with invasion and counter-invasion, it was littered with technology from all over the galaxy. When human scientists and engineers were able to reverse-engineer it, they suddenly were thrust into a technological stage far more advanced than their social stage of development, being still a species yet to develop cohesive political and cultural unity. And as a result, a young and reckless species with this level of power would inevitably spell disaster. They successfully fended off the invasion, forcing the Hygna to seek refuge among their allies' planets, but since the invasion had spiraled into a galactic war, the war was not over. Humanity saw this as an opportunity to expand their influence in the galaxy.
​
They aggressively began to outwardly expand and conquer their neighbors, including the Hygna and their allies. The use of professional standing armies proved to be incredibly effective, as the humans defeated armies many times their size. Soon, the war ended, with the Yasak, Humans, and their allies victorious. But the balance of power in the galaxy was forever shifted.
​
The age of humanity had begun. The history of the galaxy would never be the same again.
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"The vacuum." Thought James Gadwell
"And a laugh at what followed; primal fear"
"That name for the empty void of space always caused two contrasting thoughts, emotions, reactions? Whatever you wanted to call them, it didn't matter in the end. It got me."
________________________________
The **human** interpretations were never succinct and often full of contradictions. "Difficult to read" was an understatement. "How could the **human** laugh at its own primal fear?" Thought Gri'sha the conscript. They turned to leave this one, tossed it aside into the void, and began attempting to read the next. They entered the bridge of the human ship through the missing cieling and found a body, opening the visor and subsequent skull underneath to read the contents.
"Seargent at arms connelly" is what the now bloody, makeshift seeming enviro-suit said on it's upper appendage wrapping. A small square patch on its opposite appendage depicting this one's home systems' star chart, somewhere in the vicinity of Beetlejuice. Gri'sha's tendril-like readers began precisely prodding and poking in the grey matter's electrical receptors, looking for instances who's words could still be read.
This one was forthright, "Finally!" Gri'sha thought,
"Recently deceased, synapses still firing. Might be easier to find this one's interpretations."
______________________________________
"First contact?! I wonder if this race will be politically inclined or another conscript based aggressor race for these Gol we keep hearing about?" Asked James.
"Move to battlestations!" Barked Jill without acknowledging comms officer James Gadwell. Recognizing the ship from one of her more classified dossiers that she had convinced fleet admiral harper to share with her. This was, in fact, a Dril ship. The famed most successful Scouts for the Gol when deciding whether or not to invade.
"Status, red, high alert, send a message to the fleet now! Highest priority. Transmit location!" She was basically yelling, surprising herself at her alarm. She reigned herself in for the next announcement, trying to sound calm and hoping the bridge crew hadn't picked up on her fear. **"Dammit connelly, now is your moment. You trained for this. Give'em hell"** she thought.
______________________________,,..________
"Trained?" Gri'sha grimaced.
She had "given them hell," both ships floated now, weightlessness. Other Dril worked to repair the engines after a pulse from the human ship knocked them out.
"Trained?..."
The word tasted.... bad. To use a human... thought, emotion, reaction.... They adjusted their reader ever so slightly, feeling for the next interpretations from 'Jill connelly's grey matter.
_______________________,,..____%%¿¿_______
"The ship can't be tracked! Our torpedoes won't target, can't follow! It's too fast!" Brick was panicked at this point and looked to seargent Connelly for direction.
She was calm, Yet her eyes betrayed a fear none of the bridge crew had yet seen her express. Time seemed to stop...
She smiled, and her fierce determination came back in a flash. "Were sunk, but the fuckers won't win, transmit all data being recorded on the enemy ship directly to this address."
Brick's console lit up with comms relay access, she glanced over at Gadwell who was writhing in pain next to his own console, now smoldering after the fire suppression system hit console and operator alike.
"Torpedoes are useless against those engines, but beam weapons aren't. This is fleet admiral Harper's personal terminal, begin transmitting now, and the fifth fleet will reign fire down on this motherfucker!"
Brick noticed that Connally was smiling at the thought of damning both ships and took solace with her commanders determination.
Jill Connelly was bleeding from the left side of her head where a peice of shrapnel had grazed her after Gadwell's console overloaded. But she was in command and knew the protocol. She knew her training, her years at the academy -
_________________!!_______,,..____________
"A combat school? These humans have a combat school? It's no wonder the other conscript races the Gol sent to scout their domain hadn't returned." Gri'sha was intrigued.
"We should report back and share these interpretations with the Gol...." But even as consensus was reached for this as the safest decision, Gri'sha felt that the grey matter was firing synapses less frequently and saw with its eyeless head that seargent at arms Connelly's grey matter was about to expire wholly.
"Well... we've always been a sucker for a good read." Gri'sha knew the risks and the punishments the Gol dolled out on their conscripts, especially the Dril.
"They always knew we were more intelligent than them, that's why ours is the harshest punishment."
Ignoring their own consensus, Gri'sha pushed slightly with two tendrils to read the next instance.
______________________________________
Her years at the academy had taught her everything she needed to know, logs could not be captured, and the ship must be scuttled.
"Ramming speed." Prepare engines for overload." Grim determination in her voice and on her face.
"Were scuttling the ship,but we'll take them out with the EMP and leave them for the fifth."
and Jill whispered, her hand on navigator pressley's shoulder, "death before dishonor, hoo rah."
The dead here could buy information for the living, and information sent such a long distance takes its time. The crew knew the risks when they signed up, when they chose a military life, a life of confli-
___________!!!__!___¿¿~%%¿¿__,,.._______
"Signed up?!" Gri'sha was reeling at the thought. "Chose?!" "Insanity!" The Dril, and every other race aside from the Gol in the Gol'an empire, we're forced into combat by the diminutive weapon makers. Who's threats to use planet destroying weapons, kept the others in line. To choose this life voluntarily seemed in direct opposition to what consensus called "self preservation."
It was, of course, too late for the Dril on that account, their home destroyed in a fit of rage by a Gol primarch after a Dril drone read too intently on a living Gol subject, instance interpretation telling **all Dril at once** how few of these weapons actually existed. Not enough for nearly half of the Gol's slave races.
Gri'sha, imagining that they could smile, as Connelly had, with indignation, kept reading, but more intently. Something happened that hasn't happened since the planet was cleansed...
Consensus had changed; **all dril at once were in agreement.**
"Wait on the ship, Contact the humans. They will bring down the Gol... death before dishonor? At the very least, these two terrifying races could devour each other."
______________________________________
Gri'sha watched as a beam from deep space shot quickly and soundlessly through the Aklas like it wasn't even there. Watched as the ship that had served as their home these long instances, since the cleansing, in fact, simply... disappeared in the center and began to drift in the direction the beam had been going and where it came from, simultaneously.
Gri'sha watched. Gri'sha smiled. And Gri'sha waited; to answer the hale from Harper's fifth fleet.
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lsgzv8e
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lsgnzxt
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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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The door slams, echoing in the bar.
I look up from my booze and grin. This guy. Black and Green suit with a huge D on it. Big complicated visor style mask that doesn't hide brown skin or that messy shock of black hair. Opposite sides of the law, but I love this kid. "Holy shit! Dusk! How are yo-"
"Who did it?" The voice is low. Calm. Razor wire and Scorpion venom. I've never seen the Bio-Grid Guardian this calm.
Dusk is....well, after the Hyperstorm, he appeared. The first Hyper. Tapped into the intricate web of life he calls the Bio-Grid. Him and his....oh shit.
"Dusk" I hold up my hands. "Where's Raptor?"
He glares at me, and I see the green energy in his eyes burn like a star. "That's what I'm here for, Talon. So which one of you húndàn fucks did it? WHICH ONE OF YOU NEARLY KILLED MY BABY BROTHER."
He's swearing. In Mandarin. Shit. Barely keeping his secret identity.
"Dusk, Theo." I take a few steps forward. "Look. We all know the rules. We fight, we scrap but we got rules so this don't happen
I reach out to touch his shoulder. That's a mistake. The roiling energy coming off him scalds my hand. Shit.
Other rogues start standing up. Frostbite speaks first "Listen, Big D. None of us would do that. We like the kid."
Murmers of agreement. Then in the back, Nocturne speaks
"What about that new guy? What was his name? Golgotha?"
There's a blur of movement, a scream of wind and Dusk is just....there in front of Nocturne before I can react, and I moe at the speed of lightning. He lifts the scrawny mutate with one hand, owl feathers floating down like rain.
"Explain." The voice is teetering the edge, and I yank Dusk...Theo off the poor bastard. , My flesh burns, but I don't want any blood in my bar.
"Nocturne, you gotta talk quick-like."
"Said he wanted to earn his name! Take skulls. I tried to warn him off, man!" Nocturne speaks fast, blinking his eyes out of sequence. He's freaked.
"Where is he?" A knife of a voice. Where's the goofy grin? Where's the "I'm Dusk, and evil's day is done?" This is not my archfoe.
"Wade Park. The abandoned part of the Yellows projects!"
And with that, something snaps. Dusk shrugs me off, like I was never there.
"If Curt dies...." he mutters then gives us all a once over. He doesn't finish. He just begins to hover, turns his body in midair....and is gone.
That...wasn't Dusk angry. That was Theodore Lyffe afraid for his brother's life. And that is so much worse
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The attack on the Dome Galla was the biggest news going around town. Everyone heard of what happened. The annual Dome Galla event hosted by Dome Industries was bombed, and attacked by what looked like mercs. Everyone was talking about it at the Cell, but no one had any idea who it was that orchestrated it. I was just your average mugger off the streets hiding out with some of the worst this city has to offer when that day came, when he showed up.
The Crusader, the newest blood of heroism with the power to control fire and turn it into any kind of plant he wanted. He also had force powers like a jedi, but was only ever seen using it to stop debris or enhancing his own strength. He showed up, and there was a tension in the room immediately.
"Who did it?" That was all he said before some random villain stood up, "Hey! What makes you think you could jus- AAAAAHHHH!!" Everyone flinched and got their guard up when it happened. All he did was flex his arm a bit and the guy's knee was bending sideways. "I. Said. Who. Did. It?" Everyone was quiet. This guy was always the wannabe Superman, to see him like this was out of nowhere, and kinda scary.
He looked at the guy with the broken knee and lifted his fist. The villain, Binder, suddenly started choking, like he was being strangled. He was grasping at his throat, and started floating in the air. I called him a jedi earlier, but he isn't one right now. One of the veteran villains, Canon, approached, slowly with his hands up. "Is this about the Galla?" Crusader looked at him, and dropped Binder. He crawled away as he gasped for air, but the tension didn't leave. He asked again, "who did it?"
Canon slowly relaxed, "Whoever it was, they're probably not even here. You know how we like to take credit for our work. We're just as clueless as you." Crusader looked down, but I saw his fists still shaking, looking like he'll explode at any second, then the second came.
Some guy in the back, Greed, was the villain with a background in accounting. If a villain needed money moved unnoticed he was the guy. He got up, probably hoping his information could spare everyone in the room, "Hang on! I think I might kno-" Mid sentence and he was flying across the room, right in front of the hero, his fist in the air again. "WHAT DO YOU KNOW?"
Greed was floating like he was being stretched in two directions, his arms outstretched and still stretching by the second. He barely let ou his voice, "The attack. Someone attacked the mercs. Most are in the hospital-" Crusader interrupted, "I KNOW, I WAS THERE. THAT WAS ME. NOW ANSWER. WHO DID IT!!?" We were all surprised. If he was there, then this was about someone he cared about. They must have been in the galla too. Greed struggled, but kept talking, "Oh. Didnt.....know.....that. But...one merc....still......conscious." Crusader dropped him and he fell flat on his back. Before he had a chance to recover he stomped his foot on his chest, "Where?!" Greed, barely letting anything out, "Gaia...PD."
Crusader got off of him, turned around to leave. But Canon put his hand on his shoulder and went ahead and tried the whole "you're not just getting away" shtick. Without blinking, Crusader stopped him Mid sentence, drove his hand into his mouth, and fire blasted him. Canon is strong and the most durable of all the other villains, and he was left struggling and crying on the floor all the same. Crusader left, and everyone else was too tense to finish their drinks.
I don't go to the Cell these days anymore, decided to straighten myself up. Or at least to the best I can. Something stuck with me that day. All these heroes going around saving people for whatever reason may seem cliché and childish, but that seemed like the better choice. The second anyone hurts those they care about, the kid gloves are off, and it was clear that Crusader holds back. A lot. And I'll be damned before I make a terrifying mistake like that.
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j3njmfe
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j3mpar2
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[WP] Today was a shit day. Everyone telling you what to do. You were so angry, you didn't notice the car. - You wake up, the pit to hell on your left, gates to heaven right. Death stands before you, pointing to a chair. "Sit, we will decide your fate." That's it, the final straw. "No."
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"Yes. It is inevitable". Death was as I had always imagined it - a skinny, no, skeletal, hooded figure, with a scythe, its indistinct dark clothing swaying in a breeze I couldn't feel. And it spoke in a completely atonal, emotionless whisper.
"My manifestation is a product of your mind - as it was for those who came before you and those who will come after you. And your fate will be decided by the council, as it was for those who came be-"
"Yeah, yeah, cut to the chase. I'm done. Everyone made all my decisions in life for me, might as well wait and see how this one turns out - I'm already dead, how mich worse can it get, huh? No, boss, death or whatever the hell - pun intended - you're called. This is my death, this is MY call."
Death stood, looming. And I couldn't help but feel like it was *evaluating* me. Judging would be the wrong word. Judgement means innocence, or guilt in some form or another.
"You seem to be of sound mind and perception, human. Indeed, the beliefs prevalent on earth which prophecy binary judgement are false."
"But they seem to *lack* humility." A new voice, coming from the nothingness around us, a nothingness whose oppressive vastness and presence I only appreciated now that it, or something in it, had made itself known.
"Most of them do" - another, this one pulsing from the ground I felt I stood on, but couldn't see. It looked like the rest of the nether around death and me, but I sensed some kind of support, some kind of brace beneath my feet, now that it had spoken.
"I want my life back", I said defiantly. I wasn't about to become some deities' club's latest toy without any resistance.
"You cannot. Your choices are plentiful, but that is not one of them", death explained.
"Then I want a new life. One where I'm not pushed around by everybody all the time."
"So be it. We shall see if you make the same choice next time, young one." The voice from the nothingness seemed content, while I sensed sadness below.
"Choose carefully, young one", the voice from below cautioned. It felt like a concerned parent was trying to lovingly guide me towards a choice they thought was better.
I'd had a terrible relationship with my parents.
"Nope, I made my choice, please just let me have it."
Silence. For just a moment. I felt the three entities communicating.
"Come", whispered death. It started walking. I followed. At least I had chosen where it would lead me - even if I didn't know exactly where or what I had chosen.
|
The chair was a small wooden affair, akin to the ones I remember from school, and with the looming height of the reaper I felt like a child again. The ‘no’ I had shouted still rang in my ears and death was as still as … well as the grave.
My mind raced, I hadn’t thought ahead, I had just snapped and shouted my objection. How would I argue my way out of being dead.
“Whose heaven is that?” I asked to try and stall.
The reaper creaked as it turned its hooded head to the gates. They were like the shells of some creature, pearlescent, but the shapes were unnatural. Geometry not of this world seemed to pull at the threads of sanity if you followed any one portion of it too closely, taken as a whole it seemed to writhe.
“That is yours, you are of humanity yes?” The reaper asked in a voice as dry as a crypt.
“I don’t know to be honest, I’ve always kept myself to myself, I’ve certainly never been one of the crowd,” I avoided the question.
The reaper stood still waiting.
“And that I assume is hell? What kind of hell is that?” I challenged again.
The reaper turned his head the other way towards the pit. It seemed impossibly far away and as the landscape curved away into the pit it started to look fleshy.
“These are the options I have for human’s the pit or the gates,” the reaper said simply with a shrug.
“And why do you get to decide my fate?” I complained.
The reaper shook its head, a slow movement that rattled whatever was inside its hood.
“No, I said ‘we will decide your fate’, human’s are all the same, you assume so much of fate and put so little importance in your own actions, your life is always someone else’s fault, well here is a fulcrum, you cannot proceed without applying some leverage, taking some responsibility for where you go,” Death spoke the words in its dry voice but it was unmistakably an admonishment.
I sat on the chair, feeling more like a child at school. I thought back on the day, had I really been told what to do or had I coasted through the day and my life letting the world tell me what to do. The anger seeped away and was replaced with disappointment with myself.
“I am here to facilitate, help you make this decision but you must chose,” the reaper explained.
“Why would anyone chose the pit? That is hell right?” I asked.
The reaper tipped whatever it had for a head inside its hood as if considering the question. “Some would call it hell, it is nothing more than reincarnation, the opportunity for many to relive their mistakes over and over, you will not remember what came before.”
“So It’s death then as I’m dead now and don’t recall past lives?” I asked looking at the now hungry looking pit.
“This is the first time you’ve stood before me,” the reaper answered simply.
“So the gates then, what is option number two if it’s not reincarnation,” I asked looking at the maddening shapes from the corner of my eye.
“The universe wastes nothing, you can either be reused or go through the gates to be… repurposed by the ancient ones,” the reaper said.
Repurposed felt like a code for consumption by a hungry god, but still I couldn’t decide, did I really want to go back round the loop again to wind up ultimately at the same decision.
“Will it hurt?” I asked, not indicating which decision I was leaning towards.
“I’ve heard human’s say life is pain, it is unlikely reincarnation will come without some degree of it, behind the other door, I have no answers for you,” the reaper said, matter of factly.
I could feel the pit calling to me, it was the comfortable choice, however I turned towards the gates, shutting my eyes against the madness, I stumbled forwards arms reaching out for what came next.
Behind me I heard the rattling voice of the reaper and a human voice cry out “No!”
I tried to turn back to see the person that had followed me but I was already lost in the mad geometry of the pearly gates, they surrounded me and I felt myself tugged in every direction, dispersing, whatever came next was now inevitable, I smiled inwardly, comforted that the decision was behind me.
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j8w2xg4
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j8vy61n
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[WP] you got a magic rock as a kid that was meant to teach you the "magic words" of please and thank you by reminding you whenever it's appropriate. Now though it's begun to recommend whole paragraphs whenever you're in a sticky situation. The best part is following it's advice always works out best
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*Go fuck yourself sir.*
Those were the first magic words I was given that weren't the usual *please* or *thank you*. I was thirteen years old and boiling over with rage at my English teacher for giving me a detention for something I hadn't even done. He was always a prick and everyone knew it. I habitually reached into my pocket to check my stone as I tried to hold my temper, expecting confirmation that a well timed "please" or "sorry" could help resolve the situation. Instead, the subtle braille script read "*Go fuck yourself sir.*" I laughed. I couldn't help it. Mr O'Connor only grew redder, the vein on his forehead sticking out further than I'd ever seen before, but his spell on me was broken and I laughed again.
"What's so funny?!" The vein looked like it might burst as he leaned over me.
"Go fuck yourself sir."
I said it without even thinking, and it felt **_good_**. All the rage flowed out of my body and was replaced with what I can only describe as blissful freedom, as I turned and walked out of the classroom.
Of course, I received a month's detention and was lucky not to be suspended. The only reason they were lenient with me was that I had "always been such a polite lad", and, in the words of our headmistress, "Mr O'Connor has a way of... bringing out the worst in people."
She actually took a liking to me after that. In fact, everyone did. Even Mr O'Connor left me alone. Two days after I spoke the magic words, I asked Sally out and she said yes. *Hey Sally, want to go out sometime?* I'd had a crush on her for months, but never had the courage. We've been together eleven years now and going strong.
My stone has continued to help me through the years, always ready with a wise word or two. One time I somehow prompted a psychological breakthrough just by repeating "It's not your fault." Sometimes it gives me a whole paragraph to recite. But I think that first "go fuck yourself" was the one that really changed my life...
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... I remember when this stone just radiated in my pocket, when I forgot to be thankful for the blessings I've received, all the way through my childhood.
Now I can't remember the last time I've had a conversation at a bar, without the suspecious feeling that every word I utter, is not my own.
I might be paranoid, but this stone is my drug of choice, if I leave it at home, I long for it, it never leaves my mind.
The heat it gives off is intoxicating, like a person giving you the most warm, affectionate hug.
Last night, I almost got in a fight, because I was trying to comfort an old man, who had trouble refusing the bottles that me and my friends bought for everyone at the bar, we were being inconsiderate..
-We just went out to have a night of fun in the capital city, although on a weekday..
Everyone at the bar was tired after long days at work, slaving away to make ends meet. And then we came in, happy as always. We started by having a beer, cheered and then scattered to strike up conversations with strangers, they all became lively after half an hour. My friends possess this skill naturally, compassion..
Without my stone, I am nothing..
After many hours of laughing and drinking with the locals, sharing music on the jukebox, reminiscing our past jiys, the bartender shouted: "Last call, guys!".
We bought one for round for everyone, and that was the drop that made the cup flow over, for that poor old man.
He started crying, "I miss my youth, Im just old and useless. I can't even take care of my family. I simply don't have the energy anymore."
My stone reacted instantly. I felt the rush, the rush of knowing I was about to get my fix. My stoe would do all the work of helping that old man let out his innermost, I just had to retrieve back into my mind and let it happen.
As I felt my own concience fall deep into the void of my mind, I accepted that I'm addicted to hiding away from reality, while the stones personality takes control of my body, uses me to comfort the sad souls I pass on my journey that is life.
While I'm here, everything is crystal clear, my sometimes cloudy mind becomes clear as the starry night sky. All the dots connect in an instant, that is the most precious feeling I've ever experienced.
The stone is not good at moving my body, yet. I think it's learning. Learning to be more independent, of me, I feel it wants to take control of my body completely, leaving me in this void of pleasure, which is the feeling of a mind unleaahed, pure pleasure.
I feel the stone pulling me out of the void, communicating that it need me alert. I accept that there's probably gonna be an altercation. The stone is too slow in my body to fend for itself.
I don't know how long I was in that void, time feels non-linear. Suddenly I wake, in control of my body again, seeing a closed fist approaching my face, time feels slow now that I just came back from the darkness.. It's like I have superpowers for the first hour after returning.
I move out the way like I'm fucking Spider-Man or some other hero from my childhood comics. I gently shove the guy away to create some distance, to try and talk him out of assaulting me further.
It worked, and the bodyguard at the door was apparently aware of what was happening, he had watched the whole seance between the stone and the old man I suspect.
He grabbed the angry drunk and threw him out the door.
-I got my fix, it was a good night.
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k6wtdls
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k6vwlal
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[WP] As a young witch, you have recently made a deal with a devil. In return for power, you must become his servant, the concept of which greatly excites you. At the end of your 5 years, you find that by “servant”, he didn’t mean an agent of justice who torments sinners, he simply needed a maid.
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"So I don't have to kill anyone?"
"No, you don't."
"What about chaining up the sinner? It needs two people to do that."
"I can chain them up myself. I've done it before."
"What about cutting their tongues? I can help you pick the tools."
"I can summon them."
"What about–"
"For Satan's sake, Janet! I don't need you to punish or help me punish the sinners!" The Devil yelled in frustration, "That is *my* job. All you have to do is clean up the torture room after each session!"
Janet pouted, "Then can I at least watch you punish them? I'll have to enter the room when you're done anyway."
The Devil opened his mouth intending to protest, but no word came out. Who is he kidding, he can't argue back at her. Defeated by the young witch's stubbornness, he finally sighed, "Fine! You can stand in the corner and watch. Just don't meddle with my work."
The beaming grin on Janet's face couldn't be any brighter, "Yes, sir!"
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“Your time has come. Your purpose shall be fulfilled in serving me.”
The devil cackles from his sprawling throne of bleeding gold. Beside him a little maid outfit, in its stereotypical black and white sprung out of nothingness.
“This should fit you perfectly.”
Despite her many efforts she found herself at a crossroads, as the deep abyss of blackness stared back at her, the devils eyes enveloping her very soul, she remained stoic and unrelenting in her quest for power. She began muttering under her breath, the incantation spewing at the edge of her lips faster than even she could comprehend. The devil etched towards her from his throne, towering hundreds of feet above as his over-crusted skin chipped and crushed the ground around her with his every movement. The fires surrounding the rock they stood on began to soar into the sky and swirling in unison. The witch closed her eyes and continued, swishing her fingers by her side, the devil’s laugh echoing through the endless void of hell.
The grumble of his voice vibrating through the floor before he’d even begun to speak, “You dare defy me,” reaching his arm out to smite her like a bug.
Unbeknownst to him, there was one final trick up her sleeve. One she had never expected to have to use. As the fires stood to a halt before jolting towards her a mile a minute, she began to rise into the air. When the fires reached her it was clear there was no other choice. She had given the last five years to the devil in hopes to serve alongside him in taking over the very world that had once forsaken her, humbling herself to his every whim and request. So she had to use everything she had learnt to continue her mission, now not to serve, but to reign.
“Limbo,” she whispered. Her body that lay in a deep slumber on earth began to run cold as her soul split from it and whisked through the layers of hell into the one place she knew she could not be found. When she opened her eyes, the mist clouded her vision but the voices began to surround her, begging for forgiveness and release from this world. She had escaped him, he could not reach the purgatory she found herself in but his voice continued to rattle in her head, cackling at her defiance.
“I will find you, witch.”
She walked on through the mist, whispering incantations as the mist parted before her, “Not if I find you first.”
-
Not sure where I was going with this but maybe a fanatical opening to a story of a battle between this witch and the devil, hope it worked.
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[WP] Instead of becoming an Adventurer like your peers, you decided to become an Author And Publish a Mystery novel series. However, you gain the attention of the demon queen. She doesn't want to kill you, Instead, she's upset you left the last book on a cliffhanger.
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The ink was barely dry when she came.
I was supposed to be an adventurer. That's what they said. Be like your father, your brother, your grandfather, like every man since time stretched and split into days. So when they left on their quests, swords glinting and egos flashing, I stayed home, hunched over parchment, feeling the dust settle over me, not adventure.
It was on a Tuesday—quiet, gray, a nothing day—that I heard the knock. I thought it was a bird at first, then maybe wind. But wind doesn’t knock. It howls and rattles and slides under the door like it owns the place. This was deliberate. Sharp. Insistent.
I opened the door. There she was.
You hear stories about the demon queen. Always in half-whispers, like the truth of her can only be handled in pieces. But she looked exactly how I'd imagined: regal, eyes dark as midnight pools, draped in red that didn't so much flow as cling to her like it was afraid to let go.
And there I was, barefoot in my study, ink stains smudged across my cheek, hair like I'd lost a fight with the wind and lost badly. She didn’t look like she belonged in this room. She didn’t even look like she belonged in this world.
"You," she said, voice low, dangerous, "owe me an ending."
I blinked, because it was either that or laugh, and laughing in the face of the demon queen seemed unwise.
"An... ending?"
She stepped inside like she'd been invited. The way someone with that much power moves—it doesn't ask. It just is. "Your book," she said, eyes narrowing. "You left it on a cliffhanger. I do not like cliffhangers."
"Oh." A pause. I wasn’t sure what was worse: that she’d come, or that she knew about *that* cliffhanger. It was a good one, though. One of my best.
“I’m still writing it,” I said, feeling defensive.
Her eyes flared, a red flash behind the black. “Your hero was bleeding on the floor. Bleeding. And you just left him there, on that page, bleeding into nothing. Do you know how infuriating that is?"
I could feel my face heating up, though whether from embarrassment or the unholy heat rolling off her, I couldn't say. “It’s supposed to make you want the next one.”
“I *want* it now.”
Of course she did. The demon queen didn’t wait for anything.
My hands twitched, fingers itching for a pen. “It’s not ready.” I swallowed the words I really wanted to say: *Neither am I.*
She looked at me, really looked at me then, her gaze softening just enough to make me uncomfortable. I expected fire, fury, maybe some dark magic. What I didn’t expect was the sigh. Heavy. Ancient. Tired, even.
"Do you think you're the only one who can’t finish something?" she asked, voice softer than I'd imagined it could be. "I’ve ruled for eons, and it’s all… half-baked plans, half-done wars, things left undone.” Her gaze drifted over the cluttered room, the piles of pages, half-written thoughts. "I’m not mad because I don’t know what happens next. I’m mad because you *stopped.*"
The truth hit me like a cold slap. She wasn’t talking about the book. Not really.
"I didn’t stop," I said, though even I didn’t believe it. “I just—”
She raised an eyebrow, and that was enough.
I stopped.
Stopped writing, stopped adventuring, stopped everything. The ink dried on half-finished sentences, the quill heavier with every word, the weight of an ending I couldn’t quite see pressing on my chest.
The demon queen shifted, her presence less threatening, more human somehow, and sat down in the only chair that wasn’t covered in parchment. It looked strange, seeing her there, regal and tired, waiting for something I wasn’t sure I could give.
"Finish it," she said, quietly.
I stared at the blank page in front of me, the story I hadn’t touched in weeks. The hero bleeding out, waiting for me to save him or let him die.
The thing about adventures no one tells you: it’s not the monsters or the danger that gets you. It’s the *not knowing*. The days when everything is quiet, and you’re left with yourself and all the things you were supposed to be. The cliffs are always higher than you think. The pages stretch longer than you imagined.
I picked up the pen.
It was always easier to leave things unfinished. But maybe—just maybe—she was right.
The demon queen waited, silent, while I wrote.
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> Catalyst... yes, yes that was what Ophelia was. Her death was what brought Aaron here in the first place, wasn't it? His trauma had driven his guilt, driven him to kill his parents, put him in jail, forced him to live as though nothing mattered anymore. Yet here she was, alive and well before the both of them, who watched it happen, all those years ago. Cameron didn't even bat an eye. She already knew. His final riddle. She'd figured it out.
> "Is that all you have to say for yourself?" Cameron screamed, her blade at Aaron's throat, "After all these years, is that it?"
> Aaron gulped, "Kill me. I deserve it. After everything I've done."
> "I want to. I really do. But I don't have the strength to make the choice."
> "You were always going to get here. So choose now. Kill me, or never find out what happened to Garthin."
> Cameron pulled back the blade, and
The next page continues.
> **Epilogue**
> The blue sky begins to dim on the lush green fields of Nevoral. A familiar tune dances through the evening air, and all is well. At last, all is well. Cameron sits on the grass by Lorn, who is playing his lute.
> "You know," He says, "All this time, I would have thought we'd learn our lesson."
> Cameron laughs.
> "You ridiculous bard, you."
> Lorn sighs, "I'm not the ridiculous one here. You're the one who said you knew everything, right from the start."
> Cameron shakes her head, "That's not what I said. All I said was-"
> Lorn plays a gentle strum on his lute and sits back, silencing her.
> "It doesn't matter what you said."
> Cameron nods, "In the end, the melody is what matters."
The next page continues.
> Thank you so much for sticking through this series for me! Nineteen books! Holy blankets! I can't believe it, what a journey this has been, when I was first-
The next page is blank.
The next page is blank.
The next page is a list of the books in the series.
The next page is-
> "A thrilling conclusion to a beloved series! Guris' expertise leads to a most satisfying conclusion." - Goblin Times
LIES
> "9/10. Loved every inch and thread." - Justin Thornburrow
IRRELEVANT
> "Had me racking my brain, and ties everything up in a nice bow." - Colin Bean
OH COME ON!
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"It's bloody *exhausting* travelling around the lands of Mainford, Kevin." Lashly Guris said, sitting at a table in Yarn And Tail, a bookshop run by a dragonkind in Kormin. The portraits of her face were still weirding her out, both a good deal close to her likeness and just slightly uncanny.
Kevin nodded, "I understand that, Miss Guris, it's just a few more stops on the tour."
"My hand is getting sore, Kevin."
"I'm aware. You told me at the last three places."
"We're making a good deal of money, don't get me wrong, but... I thought this was meant to be a *meet* and *greet*, not a *greet* and *go away*."
Kevin rolled his eyes, "The talent always goes after the manager for managing, what else is new."
"I'm *sorry*, I just wanna actually get to chat with the fans, Kev!"
The air grew cold. The lanterns dimmed, and a silhouette entered the building, sliding along the floor with inhuman grace. Fog rolled in, and she strolled up to the back of the line. A few moments passed, and the person standing in front of her, who had previously been frozen in fear, finally stepped aside and offered her to go ahead.
"Oh, thank you," The Demon Queen said. The rest of the line very quickly did the same, and the tall lady in black strolled up to Lashly's table, a book in hand.
"Lashly Guris." She said, her voice deep, and somewhat ringing with irritation.
Lashly nodded, "Uh-y-yes, Asteria, Queen of Demons?"
"Hi, it's so nice to meet you! Could you um, sign my book? I'm a big fan of the series."
Lashly paused, and laughed, breathing a sigh of relief as she took the book in hand.
"Absolutely. I take it you enjoyed the series?"
"I was so angry when you ended it the way you did."
The room had not recovered from her entrance, and everyone froze up again in panic.
"But like," The Demon Queen continued, "I just think I didn't really, like, *get* it. Like, is Aaron dead or alive?"
Lashly laughed, "Well, yes, that is the final mystery, isn't it?"
"Yes..?"
Lashly nodded, "Yes. Sorry, is it, I was warned, Kevin even, say hi Kevin-"
The gnome, frightened out of his skin, waved shyly.
"Kevin told me you know, you gotta wrap it up, it can't just end like that. But like, you read *Catalyst*, correct?"
The Demon Queen nodded, "I brought my copy."
She held up a thoroughly worn-out book filled with colourful sticky notes.
"There's so much in this." The Demon Queen said.
"Yeah, so it's all about like, Aaron's backstory, but the mystery is more woven in-"
"No, no, I did, I mean, I got all of that, it's just..."
"The leaving his death a mystery part?"
The Demon Queen quickly nodded, "Yes. Exactly. Sorry to be hung up on it."
"No, no, it's quite alright. Well, I guess I kind of left that vague intentionally. If he survives, you know, you could imagine maybe he gets imprisoned, maybe talks to Ophelia some more, or maybe he wants to and she doesn't, who knows, you know?"
"But then what happens to the-"
"The Yolgrins? Good question."
"But, no, but, it's meant to-"
"It ends exactly how I want it to. It's a mystery, not an answer novel. I want to leave everything about *that* up in the air. There's no real conclusion to the series because that mystery is so big it is intentionally left hanging."
The Demon Queen sighed, then nodded.
"I respect that... I just... related in a large way to Aaron and wanted to know where his trauma led him."
"Dark places." The author said, passing the book back, "But thanks for reading! Keep an eye out for whatever I do next, please!"
The Demon Queen blushed and nodded, running out the door.
"Will do!"
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[WP] "Good wish, you still have three wishes." A lightbulb goes off in my head. "So, you're saying if I make a selfless wish like that one, it doesn't count?" The genie visibly relaxes, as if I was the first person to connect the dots. "Yes, exactly."
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"You have three wishes."
Toby was taken aback. He turned watching as the little boy on the gurney hugged his parents and then to the other victims that had been covered in burns and bruises and cuts recovering.
The hospital staff running wild. It was as if magic, a fantasy, a miracle. All the car crush victims were alive. Their wounds gone.
The man whom had sat next to Toby on the bus had regrown his severed leg. Another, a woman, sat up her face still covered in blood but when she removed the patch that covered her removed eye, it was there.
He looked at the happy faces all around then turned to walk towards the exit.
"Wait, sir!" A nurse yelled behind him. She stood up from behind the desk. "You still have to get examined."
Toby picked up his pace, keeping his head down and was already at the door.
"Sir!"
He walked out the hospital. It would be odd to be seen talking to thin air inside the hospital. Toby did not want to have his brain examined for having "psychological problems".
A news van swooshed past him. And then another. He turned to look back at the towering hospital edifice behind him. He could still hear the commotion.
When he got to a less crowded street, he turned to the genie who had been trailing behind him.
"What do you mean I have three wishes?" He asked, wondering if simple subtractional math was not a part of the genie's thought process.
"As by contract, a wish granted, selfless in nature and intention to the benefit another is not tallied and therefore," he repeated his earlier words. "You have three wishes."
Toby thought it through as he walked. The university expedition to Egypt this time had wrecked his finances. Riches were the first thing on his mind. Any rational being living a civilized society or even in a land far from civilization, would dream of wealth in whatever form it manifested itself.
He'd waited till he was back home to make his wishes and his patience paid off.
What if he wished the rest of his and his fellow peer's entire pursuit of knowledge was free?
"Then you would be down to two wishes." The genie spoke.
"What in-?"
"Yes I can." The genie interrupted.
Toby panicked. He felt very uncomfortable, as if he was walking naked in front of the genie.
"It is one of the many gifts I have been granted in order to fulfill my duty."
So it was impossible? Toby thought about it. He wasn't selfless. Being a hero of mankind or whatever was the last thing on his mind. He knew what it felt to lose someone you love, to be alone, to feel empty so he wished for it. Losing one wish didn't mean Jack to him, he'd still have two more. Having these wishes didn't really mean anything to him in the first. He'd just wanted to have fun one last time.
"Life is a waste," he turned to the genie. "What would happen if I honestly wished for everything and everyone to disappear to help everyone, escape?"
The genie fell silent. Sincerity radiated from the boy's eyes that had a lot more dark in them than he'd first observed.
Noting the genie's silence, Toby turned to look at the city skyline and blue summer sky above. He spoke.
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"Good wish, you still have three wishes," said the Djinn. It had granted the previous wish made: for ice cream to be free for everyone. And it hadn't counted it among Rodrigo's three wishes originally offered.
Rodrigo said, "So, you're saying if I make a selfless wish like that one, it doesn't count?"
The Djinn visibly relaxed, as if Rodrigo was the first person to connect the dots. "Yes, exactly. The free ice cream for everyone except you does not count as a wish among your proffered three."
Rodrigo scratched a scab as he thought of his next wish. This scab itched. It was a reminder of the bike messenger who clipped him last week as he walked along the sidewalk. That cyclist had ruined his day as he was off to get his favourite food, which was ice cream. He hadn't even gone to get his dessert after being hurt. He just wasn't in the mood. The city was notorious for cyclists who hurt pedestrians. Did they not realize that they were in a vehicle that was meant to be on the road? How would he ever get back at all the cyclists who had cussed him out? Or hit him with their bikes?
He said, "Alright, I'd like to make my next wish a little retroactive." He grinned, "I want only free ice cream for *cyclists,* not everyone."
Whenever Rodrigo rode a bike, it was on the road, as he was a considerate person.
The Djinn cocked an eyebrow that was invisible to the human sight. It spoke from the aether as was the only method of communication when dealing with the human world. It said, "Okay..."
"Now give *all cyclists* severe lactose intolerance."
"How is that selfless?"
Panic sweats hit Rodrigo in a strong wave. He stumbled over his words, "Cause, well, you know, that too much ice cream is bad for you."
Remaining silent as it could the Djinn wanted to hear this one play out.
Rodrigo said, "Ice cream in large quantities can make you fat or sick, so, that's why I want people to have bodies that warn them of this fact whenever they are eating said... free ice cream."
"Okay, but that has to count as a wish," the Djinn crossed its arms. "So does the wish for the free ice cream for all cyclists."
However, Rodrigo couldn't read the Djinn's reaction at all. He only heard its otherworldly voice as it spoke to him. To the common human eye, he was just talking to a lamp. He said to the lamp, "What? That's a selfless act? So was the other one."
"No, see you ride your bike occasionally, so that would mean you would be benefitting as you are indeed a cyclist." There was no bullshitting a Djinn, they weren't omnipresent but they did have cosmic feelings of how to spot a liar. "So, you've used your first two wishes. But I can always reverse it with your third one, if you want."
This was a life shattering moment for Rodrigo. He had planned out his wishes ever since he was a kid. When he'd played that game on the playground, '*If you had three wishes, what would they be?'.* It was a popular game as the movie of Aladinn had recently come out. And his answer was always the same: I want to be a billionaire, I want every ice cream shop to serve me for free, and I never want that ice cream to affect my body in a negative way.
He already had lactose intolerance. He didn't want to make it worse. But now he was down to one wish. This was a rather conflict-ridden choice for him to make. Be rich or go on eating ice cream as he normally did, in small quantities.
"Alright, fine," he said, "Go on, make me rich."
"You sure?" Asked the Djinn. "You wished for essentially violent lactose intolerance. Ice cream *will* make you ill. I feel like you probably like ice cream a whole lot. I mean, who doesn't?"
"Do it." Vengeance was a dish best served cold as Rodrigo had once heard. Except that would probably be the only cold dish he'd be able to eat for the rest of his life without having to curl himself around a toilet. He took solace in the fact that he had probably cured the world of reckless cyclists, as a person who had a vicious stomach-ache would have a tough time not walking their bike. And he knew if he had made the sidewalks a bit safer for pedestrians, it at least felt like a selfless act.
Epilogue: Rodrigo lived a long life of wealth, however, he never could stomach his favourite food. He regretted wasting his wishes on revenge. That cyclist who had hit him and caused him to get the scab, they just rode through the pain of eating free ice cream. But Rodrigo, the only time he could truly enjoy a creamy, cold, waffle cone with two scoops was on his death bed. However, the uncomfortable rumbling in his tummy was worth it as he was able to peacefully die with a medley of ice cream flavours on his tongue.
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[WP] A ghost haunts the halls of an appartment complex deep in a populated city. All of the tenants know of the ghost. Infact the spirit is writen into the lease agreement. Describe an appartment showing for potential new tenants.
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\[Discriminating. Ghost.\]
“I love it,” Miranda smiled at the realtor. She'd been advised not to seem too eager, but it was hard not to be. So far it was her dream apartment on the beach, with a view facing the ocean, and completely affordable. Arguably ‘too’ affordable, but she hadn't gathered all the facts yet.
“If you're that taken with it, you're only a couple of signatures from moving in,” Connie, the real estate agent said. “But, I should verify you've read the lease. You do know about Gary, right?”
Miranda was glad the subject came up. She'd been too unsure to bring it up herself. Gary the ghost had to be a joke, and Connie's mention seemed to be part of the set up. But, according to what she read, Gary was well-known in the building, and even relatively popular.
“He's real?” she asked. Connie nodded. “So, the hallways are really haunted?”
“No, I wouldn't call it a ‘haunting’,” Connie shook her head. “He keeps a pretty consistent schedule. Not that you have to avoid him, he’s a friendly ghost; but, if you want to it's as simple as waiting till after sunrise or sunset, those are the times he'll be in the hall.”
“Oh, okay,” Miranda nodded. It was feeling a bit too specific to be a joke anymore, but that only left her more unsure. Her parents always warned her about the ‘fantastic’ side of the world. “So he only haunts the halls at sunrise and sunset, that's workable,” she said.
“No…,” Connie shook her head, this time without the smile she’d come with as part of her job. “I need to make this clear. Gary is a welcome tenant and valued member of the community. No one's haunting anything,” she said.
“But, he's a ghost, right?” Miranda asked.
“Yes,” Connie agreed.
“And you said he keeps a schedule. Sunrise and sunset, he's wandering the halls, right?”
“Is Gary's presence going to be an issue for you? You seem quite determined to paint the situation in the worst possible terms.”
“Well what would you call it? He's a ghost!”
“ I think maybe this apartment isn't for you after all…, “ Connie said.
“No wait! It's perfect! I'm sorry! I just don't know how to act around those kinds of people,” she said. “Supernaturals I mean!” she was quick to realize how it sounded, but not quick enough to keep from saying it.
“Gary may be a ghost, but he's a great guy,” Connie said. “His payments are always on time.”
“I'll be happy to meet him!” Miranda volunteered. “I'll join him for his next haunting at sunset!” Connie sighed and shook her head.
“For goodness sake! The man is dead, he doesn't have a lot going on in his apartment,” she said.
“Sorry?” Miranda didn't know what to do with that information.
“He's not haunting anything!” she said. “Gary uses the hall like a normal person to go down to the beach at sunrise and he comes back up at sunset. He's just enjoying his retirement from life, why is that so difficult?”
\*\*\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #2443 in a row. (Story #269 in year seven). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place in my universe.
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"Alright, annnnnd here we are. Apartment 13B. Just let me," the building manager rummaged in his pockets, he had a lot of pockets.
Marcy smiled to hide her annoyance but couldn't help herself, "You didn't think to find the key before our appointment?"
He either pretended not to hear her or was so invested in finding the keys he didn't hear her and responded with a small chuckle, almost under his breath.
Digging into the cargo pockets on the lower parts of his legs when he resumed his spiel, "I've got the keys here somewhere. The apartment has two bedrooms, one and a half bath, you got a," he found a ring of keys and began trying them in the door, "a big bay window, your living room is your dining room but the kitchen is real nice."
He worked through the keys, he was halfway through them before one sunk into the lock and he turned to his potential tenant with a smile, "You've got more than 700 square feet of living space."
He tried to turn the key, and it didn't turn. His smile became an apologetic grimace, and he returned to trying keys.
That was when Marcy felt the ball roll into her foot. Stooping down she picked up the little red ball and turned from the manager to look down the hallway.
There was nobody there. She went to give the ball a squeeze and there was nothing to squeeze.
Her hand was empty.
She heard a ball bouncing. A giggle.
"Is there a gas leak?" Marcy asked.
The lock clicked and the manager walked into the room, "Not in more than forty years," he said from the inside of the room.
She followed him, "Hey, uh..." she trailed off looking around the apartment. Whatever brain fart just happened, she was more than happy to let it go. $750 for this place... She would live with a gas leak and chop off her foot for good measure if she got to live here.
Beautiful herringbone hardwood floors, the huge bay window faced the mountains to the east, matching name brand stainless-steel appliances with that blue plastic still on them. The floors in the kitchen were hexagon tiles, some kind of rustic Hispanic looking designs with bright but muted colors. The backsplash over the slate gray solid surface countertops matched the floor. Farm style oversized sink. Open shelving on the top, a small pantry off to the left.
Marcy would chop off both feet to live here for $750 a month.
"From your jaw on the floor there I take it you like?" The manager asked.
That was when she noticed it. A small red ball on the top of the fridge.
"That red ball," Marcy pointed at it, "do you see it?"
"Oh yeah," the manager chuckled nervously, "it's uh, it's Henry's. He's uh. You'll see him around a bit."
"Well, I don't want him popping into my apartment whenever. How did he get in here? You could barely get in here."
Another nervous chuckle from the manager, "Well, once you've signed your contract, he won't be able to come into your apartment unless you want him to, he'll just be out in the hallways sometimes."
"Wha-" She started to ask when he cut her off.
"Did I tell you that you've got your own washer and dryer?"
"No. Oh my gosh." Marcy's excitement betrayed her.
Walking past her down the hallway he opened a door on the left.
Pointing as he spoke the manager said, "Down there is the master suite, beautiful classic double vanity, a soaking tub, the works. Right across from your laundry room here is the spare bedroom or office, whatever you want to do with it. And right here is your washer and dryer."
Stepping into the small laundry room she marveled at the set. Top of the line. Brand new. She opened the washer and looked in.
Down there in the bottom of the washer was a red ball.
"What the hell is with the red balls?" Marcy didn't know if she was angry or confused. She sounded both.
"The uh, the kid Henry, he's a, he is uh, he's a ghost." The nervous chuckle came before and after he spoke.
She felt something bump into her foot.
She did not look down.
"Oh. And you said if I sign the contract he can't come in?" Her smile was a surprise to the building manager, she hadn't smiled once since he'd met her.
"Oh, uh, yeah! Yeah. We had a priest in and tried some other stuff, we couldn't get him fully out of the building, you can still hear him in the halls and stuff but uh, but we had a witch, a few of them actually, a coven I think they said, they uh, they came in and did somethin'. Bound him by spells are somethin' and if you've signed the lease he can't come into your apartment." He did not chuckle this time, he was wringing his hands and speaking as if trying not to forget anything.
She felt something bump her foot harder.
She did not look down.
"Good enough for me, where's the contract?"
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[WP] 5 years ago, you accidentally ran over a poor school student with your truck. You've carried the guilt all that time until one day, that very student knocks on your door, awoken from their coma. Rather than being angry, they thank you for inspiring their bestselling fantasy series
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"AARRGGHH!!" i awoke with a scream, memories of last night flood through my mind. Of being cornered by Night Master, some new, upstart vigilante trying to make a name for himself. Of Night Master beating the crap out of me and not stopping, even when i'm curled up and not fighting back.
I try to sit up, but every part of my body aches and i lay back down.
I see a nurse peek in the room "Ah, you are awake then" and she leaves.
A few minutes later, Guardian, the leader of the Protectors, walks into the room and i freeze on the bed, feeling myself go pale. He sees my reaction and slows down, putting up his hands "Hey, its ok, its ok, relax, i'm not going to hurt you, Pooka"
"My name is Phouka" i say almost automatically. Guardian looks puzzled "Isn't that what i said?"
I shake my head "No, you called me Pooka, but my name is pronounced Púca".
He cocks his head a little "Wait, did you just...." i wave my hand "Sorry, force of habit, its fine"
He stands by my bed and i see now that he has a concerned look on his face "Pooka, i'm really sorry about what happened to you". I nod "You mean the part where Night Master kept punching and kicking me when i was already down on the ground and not resisting?"
Guardian winces "Yeah, that part....." i notice he's avoiding my eyes, looking away.
"So, i guess by now you figured out who i am and the cops are on their way?"
Guardian shakes his head "No, we didn't ID you, we haven't even seen your face, Pooka".
"Wait, how is that possible? There is no way you treated me *without* seeing my face"
Guardian pulls up a chair and sits down "The medical staff that helped you are sworn to secrecy, regarding *any* super they treat. Even among the Protectors, there are those who prefer to keep their identities secret. After they treated you, they put your mask back on." He puts his hand on mine "You did not deserve what happened to you, Pooka. You are a villain, but you are not *evil*"
(1/2)
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"Do you remember his name?" The man in black asked, his hands drooped to his sides, stained in my blood.
It took a while to regain my breath, my hands trembling against wound. It was deep.
"Of course you wouldn't. He was just another pawn for you -"
"If I had to guess," I interrupted, steadying my voice. "Is this person you described jordan? The one who owns the marble mansion downtown?"
The man's brows raised.
"I keep a diary for these sort of things. I can double check if you allow me -"
"A diary?" His face visibly twisted in disgust. "Why? Is it so you feel better?"
I swallowed dryly, feeling the warm liquid now trickle down to my elbow. "If you want the money back then -"
"Money!?" He bellowed. "Give my dad back!"
I shrugged. "Hold on. You got this mixed up. I didn't kidnap -"
"You killed him. He was already going through enough, and yet..." An agonizing pause followed, interrupted by random sobs. My head grew dizzier with each second.
"You stealing his money was the last straw. It didn't matter, honestly. He had enough, but... no amount of money could fix his mental. The day he was robbed gave him the final push.
My eyes started to feel heavy. Though, an ever great weight pulled down in my chest.
"I'm sorry." I muttered. "I didn't want to kill him. I just wanted the money."
His teeth grit. He wouldn't forgive. Not now.
The man approached, preparing the final strike as I tried my best to crawl further back. Every minute movement ached the wound further.
"Please." I begged. "Don't kill me." I cried. My breath was as frantic as my heart beat.
In one last push, I shot up against the nausea with a groan.
I jolted out the bed, my hands reached out to grab the air instead.
The environment had changed, from the rain to an AC cold room.
"Wow. Hold on there."
I looked to my right to see someone else entirely.
"I was just peering into your memories for a bit."
"My memories?" I looked around the see the men and women who surrounded me. They seemed familiar.
Of course they would.
I looked back at the man beside. My jaw hung wide.
"The Hero's league?" I navigated my way backwards to my bed. "I see. He didn't kill me."
"He would've if it weren't for the last second change of mind. Consider yourself lucky as he murdered almost every other villain."
I tucked my knees against my chest. Letting out a sigh. I should have felt ecstatic to be alive, and yet...
"Are you gonna arrest me?"
"You sure seem eager." One of them remarked. "But no. We have a much more fitting punishment."
I gulped instinctively, quickly meeting his gaze with wide eyes.
"Relax. It's not death. We will be using you to catch the culprit instead." Another said.
"Yeah. You have a relation with him. Besides, that trickster powers of yours will be of good use. What do you say?"
"I mean. It's a punishment, so you don't really have a say." The original man commented, gaining glares from the rest. "What? It's true."
"I..." I cleared my throat. "I want to see him again as well. But I can't side with you."
"Why?"
I glanced at the man in the middle who asked. The leader of the league.
"You would not like a killer in your team would you?"
The door to the room creaked open as they watched me exit out. Quickly looking back at the me who was on the bed.
"Shit! It's an illusion."
"I'll lure him out, you guys can then fight him or whatever." The illusion spoke before descending unto a mist, leaving no trace.
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m6ot5nq
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jc0gb9i
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[WP] 5 years ago, you accidentally ran over a poor school student with your truck. You've carried the guilt all that time until one day, that very student knocks on your door, awoken from their coma. Rather than being angry, they thank you for inspiring their bestselling fantasy series
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"Impulse." a voice resonates. I open my eyes to a vast space of white purple and blue. Floating in front, a man dressed in a long gown iconic in silver, white, and purple.
"Vesper..." I breathe out. my heart beat quickens knowing the famous Hero. A Gnostic Entromach, able to craft mental realities, Ideation Extraction and Forging. None of my gnostic abilities can match. However knowing his power and being confined in his power are two separate things. The silent pause is stopped with a small smile from Vesper. *yeah he read that*
"So.... is Something I can do for you?" I wince realizing too late I broke the silence.
"You are in a medically coma...."
"I'd figured, after my run in with Machina?" Vesper nods,
"If breaking your skull, ribs, a legs, and hands and shooting you enough times to kill you 10 times over is considered a 'run in' then yes." Vesper waved his hand to bring a ground with a picnic table, and a pergola to focus. "Coffee, tea?"
"Water". Vesper waved it into being. "Perhaps my schemes this time was a little much." I admit. Vesper only chuckles as he take a sip of tea.
"Tell me about." he takes another sip. letting the moment stew. "Usually you limit yourself to being a nuisance or practical jokes. I know you can do so much worse."
"Yes, The ability to sense and agitate impulses can be very harmful. Gore and excess violence are not my vices, you know I....."
"and that's why we left you alone." the fierce statement sliced though my train of thought.
"Thanks?" Vesper only nodded leading to another silent moment, "You know coma patients are usually alone in their...uh... coma. Not that I don't appreciate your company but why are you here?"
"Ah Yes!" Vesper remembered, "I wanted to pull your mind out to talk with my Friends."
"Gamma Team?" I inquired knowing the answer. Vesper presents a hand for a handshake "Lets get this over with..." I sigh as silver tendrils encompass the handshake. the silver ribbons wind around my arm up to my shoulder before wrapping my whole body the last thing I hear is a pop.
(1/2)
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Jill Ryerson beamed at me from my doorstep, a copy of "Stodgey and the Mushroom Stone" in one hand and a pair of crutches in the other.
"This is my book! Before the accident, I'd never wanted to write. I hated English class. I hated reading. The doctors said I changed because of the head injury. I tell ya, I just started getting all these ideas," she said.
This wasn't how I imagined this conversation would go. I expected her to be angry, or at least bitter. I would apologize profusely and it wouldn't be enough. Then she was supposed to tell me through tears how much I ruined her life and how much she'd hate me for the rest of her days for taking her legs away from her. It went that way every time I'd thought of it, which was every day since it happened.
I wanted to smile and make do like everything was nice, but I found myself angrier at her than anything. How could she be this successful young author, happy as can be, when I was supposed to have stolen her happiness from her? There were so many things I wanted to say. I wanted to tell her of all the sleepless nights I'd spent thinking about how things would've gone differently if I wasn't texting and driving. Hell, even saying I was sorry would be good enough, but I couldn't seem to access any of that at the moment. Instead, I let fly with my first impression of what she said.
"*The title sounds a lot like the first Harry Potter book*."
Her smile turned into an ashen frown. It was as if I'd just run her over again with a different kind of truck.
She stood rigidly, staring me down from head to toe. "You know, I came here to thank you. To tell ya that I made peace with it, that you even inspired me."
"Look, I'm sorry." I said.
She shook her head. "Did you even read the book?"
I backed away nervously. "Can't admit that I have."
"If you did, you'd know that it's nothing like *Harry Potter*. A kid gets hit by a wagon on a country road and is badly injured. He's taken to a witch's hut, where a witch promises him that she can save him, but he'll have to eat a mushroom that will bestow a curse on him. The curse paralyzes him, so he can't walk. At first, he's disheartened, but after meeting a fairy who tells him about something called the mushroom stone, he believes the curse can be undone. And that's all I'm sayin'. You should've read it."
She handed me the book, the frown lifting from her face. "It's signed."
I sighed. "Look, I'm really sorry."
"It's OK," she said, turning away. "I left a message for you inside. Read it."
"I will," I said. "Thanks for stopping by."
She used her crutches to walk down to the car she came in, then got in the passenger seat. As the car drove off I opened the copy of the book and looked for her message, which was on a piece of paper carefully folded between the pages.
"Dear Stan,
I'm so glad to be able to give you this copy of my book. The accident inspired me to write it. I spent so many nights imagining what I'd do to you for stealing my youth, and that really made the words flow onto the page. I imagined that I'd meet you one more time so that you could see me alive and thriving despite what you did, and then I'd ensure that you met a worse fate than I did.
Now that I'm successful, I can afford to make my dreams a reality.
Jill"
I was about to put the book down when I heard a car pull into the drive. *Oh shit.* I froze, wondering what I should do. I never heard the assassin enter the house because the last thing I saw before I heard the gun go off was Jill's face smiling against the pane of glass on my front door.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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jvqzjzo
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[WP] I need to address this
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"The enemy stands at our gate." Henry bellowed to the crowd of soldiers.
Their angry yells fuelling his blood for the fight yet to come.
"Will we let them win?" He yelled.
"No!" Came the answer.
"Will we let them win?"
"No!"
"Will we let them win?"
"NO!"
Now was the time to motivate his men, his countrymen to lay their lives for what they believed in.
"We will win. And when we win, we will build our city. Yes, the food resources will almost be depleted. Yes, our farmlands will be razed to the ground. Yes, the disease may follow the dead and make more of our people sick. Yes, our coffers will almost be empty. Yes, our bodies may never recover from the battle. Yes, we will lose people we love."
"Uh, My Lord, I don't think-" His advisor, George, hissed in his ears but his blood pumped for the fight to come.
"We may lose our children, some may even be taken as hostages. Some soldiers may be captured to be taken as prisoners of war. Our women may be-"
"My Lord-" George loudly cleared his throat.
Henry looked down and then realised that the men were silent. He could even hear the cricket chirping in the field nearby. Well, hell
"But they will never break our spirit," He said to the men and the few crickets that were chirping now. "Our backs, maybe."
"What Lord Henry means is that when we win none of this would happen!" George said, trying to rouse the frightened crowd.
"No, no, it may still happen." Henry said shaking his head gloomily.
"What our Lord means is that we should never give up!" George said a little bit desperately.
"We don't really have any other options." Henry mumbled.
"Oh, for fucks sake!" George facepalmed.
*
[You can find more of my stories at r/iknowthisischeesy]
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All right, listen up men!
^(What's that? Oh yeah, sorry, I keep forgetting.)
Listen up, men and girls!
^(What?! Oh, for fuck's sake, fine. Yes, I remember the diversity and inclusivity training...)
Listen up, soldiers!
^(Happy? Good.)
I know you've all been through the wringer. I know you've all lost friends. I know you've seen your friends torn apart, limb from limb, grown men and women, screaming for their mommies in their last, agonizing moments of life.
I know it's been bad.
And I know we've been losing more battles that we've been winning. I know there's rumors that we're losing the war, that the aristocracy is already negotiating with the invaders to secure our place in the coming occupation. Those rumors are false, by the way. These bugs don't care about nobility or birthrights, they just like eating us. In fact, they seem to like eating us nobles even more than you commoners, so, heh, trust me, we're all on the same side.
But none of that matters. What matters is this coming battle. We need to stop these aliens from taking this city, or it's going to basically lose the war for us. That's right, if we lose this fight, we're probably going to lose the war.
So you all need to dig down deep! You'll need to fight till your last breath, to follow orders, no matter how insane they sound. You'll need to maintain your composure, even as the soldiers around you are tearing their vocal cords from screaming as the bugs eat them alive, bite by bite.
I know there are fifty thousand bugs marching our way. I know there's only four thousand of you. But the good news is that you don't need to destroy this force outright. You just need to hold them long enough for the evacuation to be completed, after which we'll be dropping a nuke on this city.
Now, to ensure that there are no deserters, the decision has been made to evacuate the nobility first. So all of your families and friends will be leaving last. Keep that in mind as you fight. The longer you hold out, the more of your families will survive.
We've got requests in with the ministry of defense for extra ammo, so we're going to go ahead and issue everyone a second magazine right off the bat. There's an aid station in the town hall, about two miles from where you'll be dug in, meaning that medical services will be available. So don't worry about losing a hand or a foot, we can grow you a new one back at the aid station. Well, actually, you'll need to be medically evacuated to a hospital for that, and they won't be doing any medical evacuations until the main one is done, but the aid station will keep you alive until then.
I want you all to know, you'll be fighting not just to save your families from being devoured by the bugs, you're also fighting for your country, for your king and for the peerage. Every one of us is so grateful for the sacrifices you all have made, and will make. Don't let this leave the camp, but there's even been rumors in parliament about passing a law allowing the younger sons of our title-holders to join the military and fight beside you.
So that's about it, men. Sorry, soldiers. Let's get out there and save our nation! Can I get a cheer?!
^(Why aren't they cheering?)
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jwn520t
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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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My eyes adjusted slowly to the dim lighting and the seriousness of the situation unfolding around me. Cold steel pressing firmly against my head.
"So it comes to this?" I ask with a smirk "You are going to shoot me after all I've done for you?"
"The truth is, the game was rigged from the start. This is just business, this could never end except one of two ways. Your death or mine." Malcolm's hands trembled, he had killed before, but never someone so close to him.
The trigger squeezed, eyes went black. My head ached, the smell of gunpowder filled my nostrils. I blinked trying to focus, I was alive? It had worked, I couldn't believe it. The implant really did transfer my consciousness into his body on death.
Looking down at my own corpse, ecstatic would be the wrong word for what I felt. I better clean up this mess before people start to ask questions.
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"Really" I muttered, as Ryan the one who I had trusted, my partner in crime pointed the gun on me. Without hesitation, he let out the first shot \*BANG\* .... a burning sensation quickly swallowed my chest, I fell to the floor.
Ryan slowly walked closer to me, his eyes gazed in mine .... those eyes. We were both in high school when we became friends through sports, it was a bit rocky at the start but we eventually found ourselves helping each other throughout school, having sleepovers and eventually going to jail together, yeah we went through alot; the kind Ryan that was always there for me, supporting me, now getting ready to take my life..... what went wrong?.
"Why" I forcefully muttered, my chest tightening, making it hard to breathe.
"The truth is, the game was rigged from the start" he responded, in a tone which was more jovial than regretful. "Huh" I whispered, then it hit me.... After our first arrest, Ryan became somewhat of a junkie. He did everything he could to secure some dollars to feed his sick addiction, he even stole from his mother. A couple months back, we were tipped off by a girl working with a wealthy business man as a house cleaner, that he would be out of town and he always left some of his bank cards and a handsome amount of cash in his room in which she had the keys for.
"Perfect opportunity to change our lives" Ryan blurted, when he heard the news
"Yeah but you know it's very risky, this isn't a game" I said in response, worryingly
"Cmon dude, all you need to do is sneak in after she is done cleaning, grab the keys and make bank, it is like a game".
I looked up at him from my worryingly stare at the floor and nodded. If only I knew what would had become of this situation I would've went there in secret, took the money and ran away... I should had known after all, because he had brought a gun when I went to pick him up to go do the robbery, why would we need a gun? noone would be there. "It's just in case things go south". Yeah they did, and it was his all doing.
Up came Ryan's hand again, pointing the pistol at me, my heart sank... this is how it ended. Without hesitation, he let out another round, I felt it penetrate my lower abdomen, at this point I began to feel an outer body experience, slowly losing consciousness .... slowly ..... and I saw black.
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[WP] "The human engineer costs HOW MUCH?" the captain was shocked. "Well, the human's rate itself is cheap. I'm including a week's worth of food. They're ludicrously expensive to maintain, but I'll be damned before I board a ship WITHOUT a human crew as well," said the broker.
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'What makes the human so valuable? One could afford an entire team of sophents with the required skills in place of this one human.'
The broker waved an appendage and burbled a reply to it's translation bot. [Master Q'Rrtuplt points out that humans believe in cross training. They do not specialize like other sophents. This particular human has tested at Master level in spatial mechanics, annihilation reactor engineering, xeno-biology, and several types of combat arts from small unit tactics and more. When informed of the high level of risk of piracy estimated in the sector, it requested berthing and employment aboard your ship, specifically.]
The Captain leaned back in confusion. Master ratings in one field required massive amounts of dedication, and usually resulted in high paying, low risk work, usually teaching.
'I still do not understand. If this human is so skilled, why does it not take a Guild position?'
The broker gurgled a response. [The humans concluded it's last war against the Zil one solar cycle ago.] Seeing the Captain's lack of comprehensive.
[It is bored.]
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"The human engineer costs *how much?*" the captain was shocked by the figure named.
"Well, the human's rate itself is cheap. I'm including a week's worth of food as well. They're ludicrously expensive to maintain, these humans, but I'll be damned before I board a ship *without* human crew as well on board it," said the broker.
The captain of the space vessel *Oing-Re-Ta* stared at the Broker of Record and was not sure what to do. As a member of the N'g Tribe, bound to the Rim Mercantile Amalgam he had little chose in what commissions *hir* took but this pushed *hir* to the limit of reason. The cost of this one human member would force *hir* to go before the Evaluation Board of N'g to show cause when *hir* returned home.
As Allocated *Xhasa* Captain, Ko'hoyt had the responsibility for assuring the voyage was a success.. An honour without question but still the monetary costs were going to be dangerously close to requiring Demolition of *hir* by Sect Law.
The Broker of Record Herriss't, High Regulator of the Council of Business and Relations looked at Captain Ko'hoyt and smiled as only a reperé could in such situations. Ko'hoyt felt *hir* two stomachs tighten in concern.
"If this works out your tribe and your sect could see riches beyond your *dreams*," the tone vibrated Captain Ko'hoyt's central vein with its deep tone and hidden meanings.
"And support members needed?" h*ir* asked.
"Only two others are needed. My valet and the engineer's mate would be joining us. I will not cover the cost of their maintenance but as they are support I am sure the cost can be adjusted to make it more palatable."
He added, "*if* needed."
"*Tyhafa*!!" the captain swore as *hir* slumped back in the chair.
"Now, now. The run is only four weeks long. It does not involve combat. The cargo is *safe*." Herriss't looked positively happy as his forked tongue snapped out and back in. "Very nice deal for you, I am sure."
Captain Ko'hoyt looked at the wall displays around the room. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with display tech. No one had windows or glass on their ships except the crazy humans but having such displays did ease Ko'hoyt's mind as *hir* thought about the deal.
A run to the edge of the Restricted Zone of the Earth-Sphere and Local Known Mind space? A run *while* the hearings were still underway for the inclusion of Earth-Sphere as a member? Even after twenty seven cycles that was a fight no one wanted part of if they wanted to stay under Local Known Mind notice.
"So," the light of the displays glistened off Herrisst's scales as it flowed forward in the chair.
"Do we have a deal?"
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[WP] "So, what immortality do you have?" "What?" "Well everybody in this room has a type of immortality, I got hyper regeneration, the guy over the is a lich, the girl in leather can save and reload, and I am not bothered enough to keep talking so what is your immortality?" "Memory"
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“Memory?” They asked. “How does that work?”
“Well as long as they’re remembered, everyone’s immortal, figuratively. I, however, am more literal.”
“So as long as you’re remembered, you can never die?”
“Well I ‘died’ 5000 years ago, but the me stood in front of you is a manifestation of people’s memories of me. As long as people alive remember me, I live on.”
“So all you have to do is keep interacting with people? Looks like you drew the king straw of immortality.”
“Not quite,” I correct, “I am a subject of people’s memories. And people’s memories are imperfect. The me infront of you is wildly different to even the me 50 years ago because people remember me imperfect. Then that becomes who I am, then people change me again and again. I don’t even remember who I was originally. I don’t even know if my name is the same.”
“Oh. That does sound difficult.”
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I entered the room, where a dozen or so entities were already waiting.
From floating skulls, to Titans the size of mountains, I saw a variety of interesting individuals.
"Greetings, welcome to the gathering.
So, what immortality do you have?", a gentleman approached me.
This indeed was a gathering I finally chose to attend...a gathering of immortals.
"Hello...What do you mean?", I asked.
The gentleman smiled, and gestured to the other attendees.
"Let's start, well...that guy there is a lich, that girl over there munching on cupcakes has save points.
I have hyper regeneration, the Titan has invulnerability to everything, time included....
And a few more, so what's yours?", he asked.
"Memory.", I said, walking towards the table.
"Memory? What does that mean?", the girl munching on cupcakes asked.
"It means as long as my memory lives, so do I.", I said.
This attracted the attention of most of them...
Yeah, it was a bit cocky.
"You say it as if you were truly immortal...
But wouldn't that mean if the planet or planets your memory lives on are destroyed, you die as well?", the Titan asked, snorting.
"That's why I became a interdimensional writer.", I chuckled.
This confused them even more...all, but the lich.
"Hoh...you write books with yourself as the character or characters...and spread them through the universe, thus they remember you...
It's still gambling, isn't it?", it asked.
I laughed.
"Not just this universe, but all of them, and in different times, and to me it's not gambling...
For I am a decent writer.", I said.
They all quieted down, and surrounded me.
I chuckled awkwardly, feeling I might have been too...forward? Too cocky?
I am not good at socializing.
"Ahm, sorry if I...", I started.
Before I could finish my apology, they all laughed, and patted my shoulders.
"Good! Then we truly welcome you here!
God, we aren't many, immortals that is, and even less are enjoying socializing...
So we are happy to hear you are confident in your immortality, and we hope you will join our centennial meetings!", the gentleman who welcomed me said.
I nodded.
They smiled, and we started discussing about everything and anything, laughing, joking, exchanging ideas...
It was so good, I wondered why I haven't joined it earlier...
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ljxs9ml
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ljxrzi5
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[WP] A group of elves is chatting on the table next to you in their native tongue, and the entire party is staring at the ranger who studied elvish. Veins bulging, jaw clenched, fist tighten around the mug he is holding, and face all red as he desperately tries to not explode into laughter.
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"Ekther mag thromo mirin," The tallest said quietly, then cast a glance at our table. "Mytiro bekther som. Rodep fefhi serm."
The fellow across from her looked over his shoulder, but the girl to his left smacked him and hissed, "*Ekther* mag thromo. Ekther, guti."
The tall one locked eyes with me and immediately looked down, whispering, "Rioto hok! Rioto hok!" Her face started turning the purple Mike had told me was elf blushing.
Speaking of Mike, I decided to check with him, make sure they were saying anything too... insulting. At first, I thought he was angry, his face turning red, knuckles going white. Then a snort slipped out, then a small guffaw.
"You okay?" Thena asked with real concern.
"He'll be fine," I grumbled into my glass. Then pointing a thumb over shoulder, "The elves just made a racist joke."
"No," Mike gasped out, then finally burst. His laughter drew the stares of everyone in the tavern, and the bard stop his playing until it was silenced.
The elves already looked nervous, then Mike called out, "Ai mytiri anther sommu," which made them all blush. He turned back to me, and said, "It was not a joke, you paranoid prick." He turned back to them, "Etwo cawm?"
"Did he just ask if the speak common?" Thea asked me.
"How should I know?"
The tall one raised her hand.
"Perfect. He'll be right over." Mike said, making her blush all the more. Then turning back to me, "Pretty sure she's never seen an orc before, and she's very curious, if you catch my drift."
"Huh?"
"Oh god," Thena said as she palmed her face. "Just go take the empty seat. We'll see you tomorrow."
"Huh?"
"Well, intelligence is his dump stat," Mike said, before dragging me over to the elf table. The other two elves headed for ours at the same time, and suddenly I pieced it together. Now it was my turn to blush.
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Those fucking elves; they’re pompous, back-stabbing, little bastards, but they make good food at least. Somewhere between the matters of disdain and admiration for the small bowl of soup between my hands, I’ve found myself in a rather unfortunate situation.
Me; the son of a blacksmith, whose entire village was whipped out in an elvish border raid, was now sitting in the middle of their god-forsaken pile of twigs they like to call a capital. If I could put the expression resting on my face into context, I’d imagine that it’s anything but smiling at the present moment as my colleagues, a band of adventurers, chitter to themselves.
Well, aside from the gnome ranger, whose attention has been focused on the conversation at a nearby table and appears to be boiling with an unfathomable rage. Well, at least what appeared to be, until the moment, he bends over himself at the stomach, wheezing and giggling to himself. “I can’t fucking take this anymore. We’ve been here well over three hours and the only thing I’ve heard these knife-ears screech about is how far their own stick is stuck up their ass compared to their peers.”
I held a stare with the man, as the other two carried on with their conversation with the elvish diplomat we’d been stuck with for this venture, some sort of princess or other, to a local house. Finally, sensing an escape from the looming murderous rage in my stomach, I leaned down to the gnome, now gasping for air. “Enlighten me. What’ve you heard?”
A long, low wheeze escaped from his lips; as he slapped one gloved fist against the table with his drink in hand. “They’re — they’re talking about their fucking chamber-pots and how they pay their servants too much to handle the issue. They don’t have proper fucking plumbing here.”
I caught my laugh in my throat, completely not expecting the answer I’d received. I was always looking for a reason to disparage their ilk, but this was too easy, as I stood up from the small table politely. “One moment.”
I hadn’t had time enough to find a proper room and board within the city yet, on account of arriving here within the last few hours but. I was now rather focused on my new quest to take these leaf nibblers down a few more pegs.
However, I needed to confirm its veracity for the sake of my mental wellness.
Five minutes later, I came back to the table near the end of the fellow’s conversation and locked eyes with the ranger as I sat down. The anticipation in his eyes was enough to communicate what his question was, even if he hadn’t voiced it within the split second I’d settled in.
“Is it true?”
I looked at the others, still enraptured in their conversation, before turning back upon being sure enough that they weren’t paying attention. I nodded once, smiling with great satisfaction at just how things had turned out so well. In perfect silence, the gnome began to inhale and exhale between pursed lips to not break their contenance.
A lesser creature might’ve broken in the moment, but now, sensing weakness, I leaned in even closer. “I consider it an immensely satisfying conclusion that some poor sod about half my size is going to carry my arm sized shit out to the river.”
And with that, the gnome finally broke down completely.
I just smiled to myself as I dragged down the squeaking visor of my helmet to hide my joy.
Vengeance at last.
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kgsbi07
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kgs4qw9
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[WP] As you tuck your daughter into bed, she tells you that there's a monster in her closet. Thinking she's just being a kid, you open the closet to show her there's nothing there, but you instead find your daughter who tells you that there's someone in her bed.
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"Refill, hon?"
I held out my mug with a smile and replied, "You're a peach, Tina."
Tina the waitress topped off my coffee before stepping out from behind the counter with an order of chicken and waffles. "So, heard you threw down with Kestrel yesterday. What happened there?"
I chuckled through a mouthful of hashbrowns. "Guy tried to make off with a black-footed ferret from a national park the next state over. Knocked the bastard out of the sky and returned the little fuzzy thing back home."
Tina cackled in the middle of dropping off the order. "A ferret? Really??"
With a shrug, I answered, "It's an endangered species, and folks will pay through the nose for exotic pets. Honestly, I feel like just getting a standard ferret from a pet store and putting dye on its paws would've been much less of a hassle."
"Well hey now, don't give me any ideas. Last thing I need is for you to take me down to the station."
"Oh please, like I'd do anything to risk my access to Johnny's pancakes."
Johnny saluted me through the hole to the kitchen as I savored my cup of joe, the steam fogging up my glasses in the way I liked. But no sooner had I fallen into a state of serenity did a resounding *BOOM* echo in the far distance, followed shortly by a column of emerald light right in the middle of the street. With an exasperated sigh, I turned around to see a seven-foot tall titan in black and red armor, clutching a woman in tattered silver robes by the throat as several other people in costumes lay scattered about with bruises aplenty.
Tina poked her head up and confusedly remarked, "What the hell're the Headliners doing here?"
I put a twenty on the counter and pushed a tiny button on my glasses, covering the lenses in a high-strength windshield. "Guess my break's over."
I stepped out of the diner just as Sun Sage was thrown at me. I slowed her down to about a quarter-mile an hour before grabbing her, setting her on the ground and asking, "Fill me in, if you'd be so kind."
Sage looked at me with annoyance before responding, "He's called the Black Beast. He's a gladiatorial champion from the other end of the Andromeda galaxy. I tried teleporting him and the Headliners to an unpopulated area, but the spell got interrupted and we ended up here. Goes without saying, but you're not a match for him."
"Yeah yeah, big man's gonna get his teeth kicked clean through his skull, but what can he do exactly? Any sort of healing factor?"
"No. Seriously, Clutch, leave this to the profes--"
I flicked Sage's ear. "My town, Sunny. I handle this."
I left Sage and strolled up to the Black Beast as he lifted Machinist by the head. I tapped his leg a few times and whistled loudly. "Son, I'm gonna have to ask you to let go of the man."
Black Beast whipped around and looked down at me with an obvious sneer in his tone as he growled, "And who exactly are you, little girl? Another wannabe hero?"
"Name's Clutch. I'm not the law around here, but I do have a vested interest in making sure this place stays standing."
Black Beast dropped Machinist on the ground and turned to face me. "I've beaten the greatest warriors from seven different galaxies. I have cracked open meteors with a single strike. My armor is forged by the flames of a dying star and christened with the blood of my father. What can you possibly hope to do?"
I smirked. "Well, since you asked so nicely."
A sound like ball bearings in a sack split the air. Black Beast looked down and saw ice rapidly spreading along his legs like a hungry parasite. "How are you --"
*BANG BANG BANG*
Black Beast fell to the ground screaming as three bullets tore through his legs, shattering them like glass. I blew away the smoke from my revolver and holstered it before touching Black Beast's forehead with a cheeky, "Annnnd pause!"
Black Beast froze in place, his scream getting cut off as I fished a piece of bubble gum from my jacket and turned around to face a bewildered Sage. "I can hold that for about an hour, so you better get something to hold this guy."
Sage glanced between me and Black Beast rapidly before slowly asking, "What did you...do?"
"Slowed down the molecules in his body until he froze, and then put his body into a neutral state so he can't move under his own power."
"How--but you--you just make bullets fly faster!!"
I grinned and popped the gum in my mouth. "Now where'd you get the *crazy* idea bullets was all I could affect?"
|
The cow gave me a reproachful stare as I set her back in the field. Mr Travis slowly walked up to me, smiling on the infectious way of his. "Thats the last one. Cheers Greenie, you just saved me a whole heap of trouble."
I gave him a smile in turn, looking across the field. The bushes I had quickly grown were standing strong, as they would do until he could get that fence fixed. The other cows were milling about, returned home after their eventful day. It was a nice sight, as my gaze returned to him. "Thats no problem at all, it's what I'm here for. I'd better get back to home though, ready for the next call. But I'll see you again in a few days for my usual pickup?"
He grinned wider, nodding. "Sure thing. See you then."
We waved each other off, as I headed back. Not that the other [Dreamers](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/159anll/comment/jtf27ij/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) would be interested, but I had to keep them updated as to what I did. My report for the day would probably be given a causal glance before being filed away. Not that I could blame them. Catching wandering cows wasn't exactly the stuff of [legends](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/15ku7uu/comment/jv7oa0z/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3).
I reached to the grass below my feet, making it bend and flex. Strengthened stalks lifted me up, before making me race along the ground without moving my legs. Maybe it was a bit of a lazy way to travel, but I couldn't deny it worked.
I arrived back home within the hour, seeing my farmhouse standing proud before my little orchard. The organisation had bought the place for me, and outfitted it with all the necessary bits and bobs that made it a base for them. I had taken the initiative to buy that little extra land as well, and used my ability to grow the lovely selection.
The majority weren't native, and by all rights should grow here. But I persuaded them to, and with fresh fruit produced all year round, it made the community more than happy to support me. It was absolutely a cushy assignment here, perfectly suited to me.
But as I approached, I noticed a tremor in the grass and weeds. Someone was here, looking for me. I couldn't see them, but their presence had been felt. I stopped, crouching low and connecting with my plants. Through them I saw the area around me, and a place where they were being crushed.
It was behind the house. This... person was crouched low. I felt the phantom pain as something sharp cut through the plants below, damaged without thought. Knowing they were there I kept still, calling out loudly. "You can come out."
I heard a rustle, before a person stalked out from behind my home. Their body was thick, fur poking out around straining clothes. Their head was shaped almost bear like, but I could see the human intelligence in their eyes. They growled, and spoke in a guttural voice. "Finally.... Greenfinger."
I raised an eyebrow, watching them from a distance. "Who might you be?"
Their laugh was heavy, fur rippling with each breath. "Ha! I am Ravager. And you are my prey."
Their self assurance made me roll my eyes. I had heard of them. A new super on the scene. From the sounds of it, they wanted to be on a similar level and [Nightmare](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/s/WnP0XKbmY5). The city based [Dreamers](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/18pzlxy/comment/kespn59/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) had spoken of his strength and aggression. The assumption was his power was limited shape shifting, primarily into wolf or bear like appearances.
The others had managed to drive him away, but he had yet to be caught. If I had to guess, he probably wanted to get some prestige by taking out a [Dreamer](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/18hndq6/comment/kd826d9/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3). Being one of the lone posts, he probably thought I would be a push over.
How wrong he would be. I crossed my arms, bending my knees ever so slightly. "Prey? I hardly think so. I will give you this opportunity to surrender peacefully."
All I got in return was a roar, as he leapt towards me. He over quickly, definitely used to charging into action. I couldn't ignore the slight twinge of fear as he approached, with all those teeth and claws. But even as he moved, so did I.
The plants beneath him surged upwards, thick vines wrapping around his limbs. They snapped taut as he moved, but held on. I gave him a small smile,before having them whip him into the ground. Other vines followed, reaching up to grab his body, trying to hold him.
He snarled, spitting at me. "You think twigs can stop me?!"
I heard snapping, as vines started to split. He was strong, I had to admit that. But his strength was all physical. In the city scape, that would be helpful in maneuvering its stone, metal and glass. But out here in the country? This was my playground.
He roared to his feed, laughing to himself. Yet that died, as he noticed a few plants growing upwards. They surrounded him, almost like a firing squad. Yet instead of guns, they had thorns. Long, sharp thorns.
I waved my hand, making my bushes release them. Ravager roared as they peppered him, making him look like he had gotten on the wrong side of a porcupine. It wasn't deadly by any means, but I would hurt him. A lot. And it did, if the scream-like roar was anything to go by.
More vines reached up to hold him down. A few grabbed the thorns, driving a couple deeper in not-too-damaging places. He tried to strain, again, but unfortunately for him I was ready. More vines than before grappled him, holding him in place.
I made sure he could not move before shifting from my position. My colleagues from the city would likely rub it in his face, but I found that beneath me. I would simply call it in, and have someone come out and collect him.
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kzu1swq
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kztoe5e
|
[WP] You are a literal god who pretends to be a d-list superhero. You've grown extremely attached to the people of the village you protect. You get news that an epic battle is taking place near your village and would most likely destroy it...
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Sheriff Lucky Star. That's my official superhero name, because things always go my way and I insisted on wearing the little costume badge my kid gave me when he found out I would help people. He wanted me to be like the guys in his cowboy stories. I fear the day he finds out I failed him. Just one time, I didn't get somewhere in time. Luck didn't have my back.
The day his mother, the hero Void, died. The villains should have been easy for someone of hero abilities to handle, but they had a new person with them. Called himself Vantage Point. He was the perfect counter to her powers and she was dead in under a minute.
I appeared at her side before she even hit the ground and laid her down gently. Then, with a glance as Vantage Point tried to attack me too, his own power turned on him and he became riddled with bullets. Inferno burned from the inside out. Wall became so heavy their body collapsed in on itself. Feral became an animal to try and escape, but an out of control vehicle struck them dead.
In under a minute, all four felt a fraction of my pain. My agony.
I'm never far from my son nowadays. I won't risk it, even as he starts to develop his own powers. His mother's powers. I'm happy my own worked out in that regard. No one should be able to twist fate to suit their whims, because there are always moments where fate twists back....
|
Life is so amazing.
I am a d-list superhero, helping the villagers thrive and survive in a mad world filled with danger.
Monsters, beasts, demons, aliens, villains and so much more are commonplace and the normal people need protection.
With my "Intelligence" superpower, I counter the attacks of wildlife, and with the village following my plans it is getting stabler and stabler.
Life is amazing.
"Little Sophia, once again scouting?
So young and doing so much.", an elder of the village said.
"Mr. Merl, please, it is my pleasure and duty.", I said.
He just shook his head.
"Saw you grow up, and was the first to awaken a power in this backwater village.
While not being chosen by a city or any academy, you made us be one of the richest villages, and we lose less than a tenth of people other villages lose against our own planet.
We are proud of you lass, but don't burn yourself out.", he said.
I smiled, warmth feeling me.
"I will take care.", I said, leaving to scout the surroundings.
Haven't gone too far, barely a hundred or so kilometers, when I faced a brooding stormy situation.
An army of various demon-kind was facing an army of monsters, while I could see a couple arch-mages laying in ambush, probably wanting to catch some test-materials.
The strongest beings were almost at the level of demigods, and their fight could level thousands of kilometers...
I sighed.
"Glauca this is a forest battle, your presence shan't be that weird.", I said.
An owl hoot later, a bright blue light covered the battlefield, before the forest, mountains, and skies returned to peace.
I went back to the village after scouting a bit more.
News of the disappearance of the armies, and arch-mages shook the world.
Many villains, superheroes, and other such individuals set foot into the surroundings, trying to find out what happened.
"It seems I didn't manage to solve anything...
Big sis Ananke seems to strike again.", I laughed.
"Little Sophia, hurry, go away.
Too many high profile people are gathering in our surroundings...
You are a young lass...beautiful at it...", Mr. Merl came in with other elders, and important figures of the village, like the butcher, or the blacksmith, or the physician.
All were once my suitors.
I smiled at them, as I came to really like these people.
"Glauca be a sweetie and ask a few of your brethren to become guardians of this place.
Elders, fellow villagers, I will always protect you.", I said, disappearing.
The village then was covered in a blue light, as the surroundings became quiet with many high-ranking species of owls starting to protect it.
Since Sophia disappeared, the village's advancement got slower, but nobody dared to touch them, especially after a hero known as "Demigod of Night", was found skewered to an olive tree, in a forest up in the north...
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lv8lko1
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lv8l4r9
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[WP] the king has a large problem. The hero that was summoned thinks slavery is "a bad thing" and women "should have rights"
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"Summon the hero!" The king bellows.
All the mages gathered around into a circle and started chanting. It only took a few seconds before the ground started glowing. Just as quickly as they started the ritual was over only leaving a young man unconscious on the floor.
"What's going on?" The young man asked groggily.
"You have been summoned to another world to be my champion, congratulations!"
"What? You can't be serious, I want to go home!"
"Nonsense, it's great here. Now my concubine slaves get the hero ready."
A group of malnourished chained woman ran towards the young man and started to measure him to prepare the sizing of his armor.
"Whoa! I don't feel comfortable with this!"
"It is a necessary thing to happen. Measurements are required for getting proper armor."
"It's not that, but the whole slave concubine thing."
"How could that make you uncomfortable? Everyone knows that all woman are subservient to men. It is the way of the land."
"That can't be right? That sounds super cruel."
"What? They love it."
"Do you like it here?" The hero asked one of the woman.
Just before she could answer she took a look back at the king, who gave her nothing but a glare. Turning towards the hero, she knew what her answer should be.
"Of course... Everything is great.." She said with a forced smile
"Yeah, I'm not buying it. I never considered myself a feminist but this is just ludicrous."
"If that is how you feel, I guess there is no choice. Guards have this man executed."
"Wait, What?!"
Before he could resist two soldiers appeared; grabbed the young man and left. The king slumped down on his throne sadly at the turn of events.
"I don't understand this is the fifth person we summoned that had to be executed. Are we the ones that are wrong?" The king asked himself.
Sitting for a few moments it did not take long for the king to reach his answer.
"No, it's these false heroes that are wrong. Mages, come together, summon the hero!" The king bellows
|
"Why should I fight for you? You keep slaves and women are forced into marriage! You sound like the bad guys to me!" the recently summoned Hero exclaims.
"Perhaps if you calm down, we could discuss the necessity of these things?" the King replied calmly.
"CALM DOWN!?? You are selling humans like they are THINGS! I want nothing to do with you!" The hero turns their back to the King and storms out. The King waves down the guard who were going to arrest the hero for this breach of protocol.
The King gestures to an attendant and whispers "Sounds like a job for the Princess."
\- - - - - -
The Princess found the Hero wandering the walls, having been denied exit at the gates.
"May I accompany you, Hero? I am 2nd Princess Bethany." Princess Bethany didn't look like the princesses the Hero imagined from the storybooks. Her brown hair was tied in a simple ponytail, and her dress was simple but clean.
"Would it matter if I said no? Apparently I'm a prisoner here." The Hero smiled bleakly.
"The King has requested that I help educate you on our culture before we let you interact with the common people to prevent misunderstandings. The Gardens have a nice spot to sit. Follow me. ...Please." The Princess waited until the Hero followed.
\- - - - - -
"Top of the list. You have a problem with slavery. So do I. So does the King himself. If we could stop slavery, we would."
"He's the fucking King, he could just make it against the law! Boom! No more slaves!" retorted the Hero.
"I'm afraid it's not as easy as that. Almost all of our slaves are criminals and Prisoners of War. If we freed them, what do you think they would do?" with a raise of her eyebrows.
"If they aren't safe to be released, why don't you put them in prison?" the Hero shrugged.
"That would indeed be one option. How would you suggest we feed them? 90% of our population is used in the production of food. For every prisoner we keep, 10 commoners would essentially be working for nothing. Our country would literally starve. Do you have a better suggestion?" Princess eyebrows were getting a workout here.
"I hadn't thought of that. I've got some ideas from my world on how to improve farming! If you have more food, then you could keep more prisoners! I could kick off the Industrial Revolution here!"
"Your ideas would be most welcome. How fast could this 'Revolution' be implemented?" the Princess asked earnestly.
"Umm, decades. You need to make tools to make the tools to make the tools. It's a whole pyramid thing." the Hero was starting to think that maybe he'd jumped the gun. But slavery was WRONG!
"That's fine. It's a long term goal. Do you have any suggestions for a short to medium term solution?" the damn eyebrows were back in action.
"Could you at least send the War Slaves back to their countries? Maybe for ransom?"
"We do. For the countries that we have peace treaties with. But a significant amount of war slaves refuse to return without being forced to. I hear it's because we treat our slaves better than they treat their serfs and ours can buy their freedom and their children are citizens. When you get out of here, you'll get to meet some of them." The Princess claps twice and orders some tea for them both.
"That's .... different to slavery back home. More like Roman." But slavery is WRONG! There's GOT to be a better way!
"Seems you have a lot to consider there. If you've got better ideas, we will listen. It's part of why we summon Heroes. Not all Heroes are fighters." The Princess sipped her tea.
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jlwey31
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jlw2skq
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[WP] In an age where gaming is widespread, militaries all over the world swiftly (and successfully) adapt by drafting gamers and assigning them into units and roles based on mandatory tracking of their most played genre and overall gametime. You just got your draft letter.
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*War is death*. I put the draft letter down. It was some mishmash about how they noted my 8,688 hours of time playing *Magic: The Gathering* and how they wanted me to join the Army's R&D department because I was "so focused on building decks that I'd surely come up with something new and creative." They were wrong. I'd spend every moment I could playing *Magic*. I certainly couldn't pass Basic in the shape I was in. Besides, they had no idea how addictive *Magic* was.
I needed a way to get out of the draft. I was good at finding ways to get out of things, like all those turns I'd hit Ugin the Spirit Dragon off of Aetherworks Marvel to save me from certain death. Yes, I needed a combo, a set of pieces that would send the military packing. The question was: what?
The letter said to report to Turnbull Headquarters on September 3rd, 2023 with the address and phone number below. There was no room for ambiguity about the location or date. I scanned more closely, looking for other potential flaws. The only thing I could come up with was the word "draft." In *Magic*, there was a format called booster draft - where eight people pass boosters around and then build a deck. The letter said to "report for the draft." What if I reported, but then acted like I expected a booster draft instead of a military draft? What would happen then?
With no better plan, that's what I planned to do when I showed up at the base. The moment I drove through the gates and up to a nondescript gray building with a sign that said "HQ" on it, I thought I was going to hate everything about the military. The whole place was devoid of any creative energy whatsoever, just a bunch of people following orders and doing everything in a structured way. Ugh.
Inside, three men in uniforms stood at a table, processing a line of registrants. As each person was processed, they were handed a bag and an assignment. Most of them were "Infantry, Platoon BX1" or "Armored, Division 5". I started feeling shaky and pulled the letter out to console myself that they wouldn't try to put me in the infantry, and that they really had a special R&D unit.
When I reached the desk and handed them the draft letter, they looked shocked. They told me they couldn't process me at this desk and to wait for someone to get me. Everybody in the line gave me a side-eye as I stepped aside. Minutes felt like hours while I saw everybody else get registered. Finally, another man wearing plain clothes came into the room from a side entrance. He introduced himself as Corporal Randall and said to follow him. I thought about giving him the spiel about the booster draft but decided to wait.
We went deep into the building before going through a door that said R&D at the top. The Corporal smiled at me as we walked through the entrance. I expected a registration table like the one upstairs, except for people like me. What I didn't expect were five uniformed service members playing *Magic* at what looked like an old kitchen table. It looked like a game of Commander with a complicated board.
"Not what you expected?" the Corporal asked.
"Ahh, no...?"
"We play a fair number of games here in R&D. Magic is pretty popular."
Feeling at ease at once, I told the Corporal what I was going to say about the draft letter. He told me that they do a booster draft once a week and that they'd be pleased to have me join.
That's how my plan was foiled, in a good way I guess. I still hate war, but I get to work on projects dedicated to saving lives instead of killing them in my department, so I guess it's alright. I even got special permission to take an easier Basic training.
I was right about one thing though - I do still spend most of my time playing *Magic.*
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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I woke up around 3pm. I logged onto STiM and saw a weird message. The military was telling me they had sent me a paper copy they wanted me to read. My first thought was spam but the botware usually caught those. I checked and sure enough there was an envelope I had left on a pile a few days ago. Official markings and everything. I was being assigned to a logistics unit.
I texted Zam, we vidcalled and agreed to go out. I left around 7, went towards the mall. We met at the station, got a juice, we talked some more. We agreed it was totally boring but it could have been worse. Logistics was one of the least disciplined. We both knew a handful of players who had already been scripted, some of them had been on Zam's speed-running team, they'd gone to A2A operations. Last he heard was they were being moved to a bunker somewhere.
I knew Zam had already dropped out of Leegz, he had been tutoring for a few months by that point. He was keeping his head low, but he was still angsty, said it was probably just a matter of time, same as for me. I had never been in Leegz, never even got so much attention beyond the mapcrafting on KoW. Obviously there were algorithms involved. We knew some anon guys who wrote cloaking but they got sussed out, all doing time now. The chats were full of stories from all over, some very tinfoily stuff, but also real stuff. Some people were totally for it, especially redpilled and the schiz/acc posters. Normies often were pro too.
Zam convinced me to come along to a bar, he insisted on buying me a drink. He was trying to put on a good face for me I guess. Maybe he was just trying to hide his own fears by being uppy. We went and it was a cyberpunk themed place on the side of the Rockstar building. After 2 we actually loosed up a bit. Zam knew some other guys there. We started dancing. After a while I got out to the balcony for some air. One of the guys came with me, that was Ball. We talked for a bit, vaped some nic and kush.
Ball told me about his brother, he was in Infops, getting drilled for months now. He said it was like hell, what it sounded like from the PMs anyway. Daily physical routines, steroid bulking, raising pain thresholds, extended shock treatments. The bosses didn't know what they were doing half the time. These corps had just pushed new tech on them and said to go buck wild. No one could say no. There were 'pain boxes' and deprivation tanks, neuro-linked horror loops. If anyone tried to push back they just ran them through these punishments. It was that or defaulting. He made it sound like they could just reprogram the scripts, like they were faulty drives. Ball's brother said some of his unit had defaulted in the first week and he was thinking about it. Ball talked him out of it. Whatever they did in there, defaulting would be worse. Maybe less painful but much, much longer.
That night was a good night. Ball was playing with my hand so I went back with him to his unit. We laid on his bed and talked some more. He asked me 'Did you ever think it would be like this, the future I mean?' I said no, in the pandemic time I just kept dreaming about green, about exploring forests and mountains and living free in the biosphere. I never thought the enclosures would happen but I don't think anyone did. I just got used to the STiM-worlds. 'What was the first one?' he asked. I think it was Leafia, when I was 12, I started playing around the same time I got my first period. Before that it was just platformers but it was never so important then.
He told me he was going to escape. I said how? He talked some tinfoily stuff, I wasn't sure if he was serious. Maybe he was just dreaming on kush. He said there was a community that used tech only for the basics, they were totally offline, they had ghosted, faked IDs, faked coin. They had defaulted too. I asked why his brother couldn't go with him. 'As long as he's inside I can't leave, it would be too risky. I want him to come but they've got him registered - they'd make him do time. If he defaulted now he'd be locked out'. I asked him how they did it, this community. He said he couldn't tell me, he didn't know completely either. He just said they were out there, he was sure of it and he didn't want to stay here. He called it Zombieland.
I asked if he thought there was gonna be a war. He said there already was, we just didn't hear about it. I could feel his hand squeeze mine a little harder when he said it like he was angry. The corps would keep finding ways to spend their rivals stocks and keep each other in check. It was a kind of balancing act. That's what I would be part of, counting ammo rounds, getting them to the right places, feeding the production lines, and getting new lines set up when our side raided resource hubs. The next few years were pretty crazy for me. I guess it changed me. I still think about Ball every now and then, I never heard from him after that night.
I think about Zam too. He suicided a week after that night. I was angry at first but I learned to forgive him. It took a while. I'm gonna go the spot where he left off tomorrow and leave this print out for him. I'll never forget you Zam, I love you always.
Cell.
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mwc1e5b
|
ja528aa
|
[WP] You have been a mountaintop prophet for 1,000 years. Each person only gets one question and you're sure you've heard every question that can be asked. Until one day someone uses their one question to ask, "How are you doing?"
|
Sitting atop the tallest peak of the world, my body grew from the mist, and sunlight I was showered in.
I felt no tiredness, no sleepiness, and time forgot me.
For thousands of years, I sat up here, answering one and only one question for those who managed to climb the mountain.
Today was another good day.
The weather was kind to me, and a gentle breeze reminded me of my youthful memories.
It was then when a young'un reached me.
"Hello.", I greeted her.
"Sup.", she waved with a smile.
"Tell me your question child, and I shall answer it.", I said.
"How are you doing?", she asked.
Well, that's one question I have never heard before.
Shaking my head, I smiled.
Youth...recklessness and bravery abound.
"I am fine, thank you for asking.", I said.
"You really are going to answer just one question.", she stated.
Smart lass.
"Indeed, knowledge is power, but too much of it can be just as much of a burden, as it can be a blessing.", I said.
"Cryptic stuff, just say that you don't want to answer more, 'cuz then bigshots would sit here all day to ask thousands of questions on how to become immortal, or really rich, or how to build an empire.", she snorted.
I laughed.
"Interesting perspective, but it might be due to my powers I only answer one question per person.
Now, it might be time for you to leave, as others might arrive.", I said.
She just smirked.
"Don't worry, there isn't anyone coming anytime soon.", she said.
I smiled.
"Why, Your Majesty?
Because you blocked the entire mountain range with your army?", I asked.
"So you really know everything, huh?", she asked.,
"That's another question already, young one.", I smiled.
She just snorted.
Staring at me for a while, she shrugged.
"Well, I'll be back tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.", she said, leaving.
"And I will be here, but will answer no question of yours, be it from you or being asked through someone else, since I already answered once.", I smiled.
"We shall see.", she said, leaving.
I just sat here, taking in the sight, as I always do.
This isn't the first nor the last time someone wants to take monopoly of myself...
In the end, my old friend Time shall take care of them, as it always happens.
|
"With you?" Death was confused for a moment.
"Son, I know you are very ill, but I normally play games AGAINST my ..." he thought for a moment, "*friends*, whom I lead to the next life, than with them."
Life was cruel and to this boy in front of him, it had been exceptionally so. Cancer beaten 3 times, only to have caught a simple virus that killed his liver. Because of previous illnesses, he wasn't a candidate for transplant, if they found a donor in time.
Death knew they wouldn't. He heard the uneasy snores from the parents in the bedroom across the hall. He was a little bummed they wouldn't get to say goodbye as the boy passed, but sometimes, it was easier to find someone who passed peacefully in the night, as would this boy, Kenny.
"Look, I've never beaten the game, I just need some help. Can you help me beat the game, together I know we could, then.... Well, I know who you are. If Mom and Dad came in, they wouldn't even *see* you, would they?"
"No, they would not. How do we play this game?"
"Well, we start off, well, I had already started a world, so we have a bit of a head start,"
"Good, we don't have a lot of time here." Death interjected.
"So, I have my Mom's laptop. I was trying to teach her and she didn't get it, but she tried. So you can play her character."
Over the next few minutes, Death learned how to maneuver, mine and well, craft items. Kenny and Death worked in mostly silence, with occasional comments from Kenny regarding things to get, or how to craft certain items. Occasionally, he would ask a real question of Death.
"How will you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Kill me?" Kenny, seemed to tremble at the words being said.
"Oh, dear boy, I am not the one killing you. You are dying because your liver is failing. I am here, not to *kill* you, but to take you on to your next destination, your soul, that is."
"What about the giant blade you use I see in all the pictures?"
"Ha, look out for that creeper, well, I have been pictured as many things over the years. So, yeah, that scythe is one thing people associate with me, but mostly, I take my charges by the hand or with a gentle arm on the back, and we walk into the next world together." Kenny seemed satisfied with that answer. "Are you warm enough?"
"yeah, I'm kind of feeling hot now. I know that's probably from the liver thing. Okay, the next room we go in, that's where we have the final battle. Are you ready?"
"Are you?" Kenny knew what this meant, and for a moment he had a scared look in his eyes. Death put his hand on his back and said gently patted him. "Let's make this a little more, fun. I believe you deserve a little more fun this last time."
With that, they were not staring at computers but in the world of Minecraft. Ready to defeat the Heart of Ender. Kenny gasped at first, and then said excitedly, "Let's Go!"
It was an amazing battle between the two *heroes* and the final boss. When it was done they were back in Kenny's room. Kenny was exhausted and voluntarily went into his bed.
"This is where Mom and Dad will find me?"
"Yes. it's time, you know."
"I know. What happens next?"
"Well," Death said to Kenny's spirit now standing next to him still in front of the computer, "Now we go. I have enjoyed playing this game *with* you. Would other children play this game too?"
"I'm sure, I know grown-ups who play it."
"Interesting. Take my hand, it's time."
​
The next morning, Kenny's mother came in to find him so peacefully on the bed. She sat silently next to him amazed at how he just looked asleep instead of passed. As she turned to look at the computers, she could tell that he had finally beaten the game. She then noticed that logged into her Minecraft account was '*Death*'.
"Thank you, wherever you are."
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lpwdtci
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lpvpuns
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[WP] "What is your first decree as king?" "My generals and advisors are all banished to the Northern Wastes." "Wh-What?" "My father's empire was a ruthless, evil rule that destroyed the lives of his subjects. All those in leadership are banished. If you return, you will be killed."
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Despite the throne room's soundproofing, the noise outside was growing louder.
"To clarify, sir - you had *all* of your generals and advisors banished to the Northern Wastes? Everyone who was in leadership?"
King Hardin nodded solemnly. "My father's empire was evil. He was a ruthless leader, and so were his generals and advisors. They destroyed the lives of their subjects."
The wizened advisor sighed. It'd only been an hour since he'd returned from his long journey abroad; he'd missed Hardin's coronation. He'd always been fond of the boy. He'd always had a good heart. Not always the sharpest mind, though.
"Not that I disagree with your views on your father's empire, sir," he began, voicing aloud a sentiment he'd privately held for years, "-but did you really believe this was the best way to go about it?"
"What do you mean?" Hardin blinked slowly. Even now, he'd not pieced it together.
"You've only just taken the throne. Your foothold is not secure. And you have just simultaneously made an enemy of every single powerful man and woman in your own kingdom - enemies who have powerful connections and influence of their own, and who have soldiers who are loyal to them. Soldiers who have questionable morals - because as you've so rightly pointed out, sir, those soldiers did horrible things under the command of those very same generals and leaders."
Hardin grew very quiet. "So that noise outside... it's not really that the people are throwing an impromptu gathering to honor me."
The old man standing in front of him sighed. "No, sir. The generals and advisors you banished decided to ignore your decree, gather their forces, and stage a coup. They're storming the palace now - your palace guard won't hold out for much longer. It'd have been different if you banished just a few of the generals or advisors. The others may not have spoken up, as you would have strengthened their own relative position. Or if you'd simply gathered them in a room together and had your palace guard execute them all without warning. But you banished them instead - making enemies of every last one - without having the fortitude to eliminate them as threats for good. What were you expecting when you banished every single person with soldiers or political influence or great wealth?"
King Hardin pursed his lips. "Those other paths seemed... sneaky. Dishonest. Manipulative."
"You are a king, sir, and politics are never clean. Not if you want to accomplish anything. Even if you have good intentions, you will need underhanded tactics in order to beat those with underhanded tactics."
"...So what do we do now?"
Just then, the doors to the throne room burst open. Twelve of the empire's most powerful generals, advisors, and crooked noblemen stepped into the room, flanked by hundreds of their loyal soldiers and house guards.
"Kill them!" The general at the front of the pack called.
King Hardin drew his sword. He'd had the best sword instructors on the continent, and he was quite a blademaster in his own right. He stepped forward boldly to meet the enemy, shielding his old advisor - and his first tutor - with his own body the way a true hero would. "I am King here," he said, "regardless of your insurrection, and you have all been banished. I warned you if you returned you would be killed. Now, face me in combat. Meet the fate I promised you."
The corrupt official at the front of the mob made a show of thinking about it. "I'd rather not," he said. "Everyone, shoot him."
Dozens of arrows filled the air instantly. King Hardin and his advisor died before they hit the ground, their bodies turned into human pincushions from every possible angle.
As the general moved to take the throne for himself, the coup immediately dissolved into infighting amongst the various factions. Now that their common enemy was dead, they no longer had any reason to band together.
Not that that mattered for the former King.
His reign had lasted just about six days.
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His last breath left him, his eyes froze, his hands went limp, and the pain in his face disappeared. The King died. The son inherited the throne by tradition. *By divine right* some believe, *by the will of the spirits, and the power of fate*.
Everyone heard the priest hesitate, then speak the expected recitation, "Carry on the will of your ancestors, may their *wisdom* find home in your care, from this day forward, Prince of the Dying Sun no more, but King Upon the Throne of a Thousand Suns," it began. "What is your first decree, my King?"
The prince smiled. He dropped his father's hand the moment the question was uttered. He knew what he wanted; he wanted the throne; he wanted those who would seek to kill him gone; he wanted the end of wars. And the priests knew this.
"My generals and advisors..." Neither were his; they were his fathers. "are all banished to the Northern Wastes."
"Wh-what?" The priest asked, his eyes darting to the men dressed in ceremonial armor and the robed advisors that stood in the chamber. The most senior of the old King's cabinet, his highly regarded and respected advisor, Lorimar, held the blue candle, the King's candle, and he snuffed it out. As he was about to light the next candle, he stopped and took stock of the room. The prince did not see the lapse in ceremony, nor would he have understood.
"My father's empire was a ruthless, evil rule that destroyed the lives of his subjects. All those in leadership are banished." The young prince turned to address the room and meet the eyes of everyone present. "If you return, you will be killed."
Lorimar set the two unlit candles down at the foot of the old King. The generals stared back at the prince. Only the priest stirred, stepping toward the door, itching to leave the room, his eyes darting between the weathered faces of the Generals and the cool, calm gaze of the old King's advisors.
"Do you think it's that simple?" General Kieve asked. His voice the sound of smooth gravel and the bite of a whip. The other generals shifted but did not move.
"Do you defy me, General Kieve?"
"I'll answer your question with a question, young Prince," He said.
"Ki-"
"Who sacrificed for the throne? Who bled on the fields of battle? Who left their homes at your father's command to extend your land and build your inheritance? Don't *we* then deserve the right to say who holds the right to rule?"
"I-"
"I'll answer for you. Not you."
"I-"
"Seems you have learned nothing from the priests or your tutors. They should be the ones banished, to die in the waste, defenseless and useless. They have failed this King," He gestured to the dead man. "They haven't taught you how the kingdom survives, how the borders are maintained, and from whom the throne derives its power."
"Guards! Guards!" The would-be King screamed.
The door slammed open, and four spearmen jumped over the threshold. They fell as quickly as the prince's head departed his shoulders. Lorimar flicked his blade and sent the blood pooling along its edge to the floor, and in the same movement, sheathed his sword. It looked like a solute to the old King, rehearsed throughout his years.
-----
The spirits gathered at the base of the mountain furthest west, in the lands once held by the dead King, in the purple light of sunset. The ashes of ten thousand elder trees sat in a pit as deep as any in-land lake. Here, the spirits gathered in the days before the King's imminent death. The giant red birds of the sun flew in just as the last rays of sunset touched the lake of ashes.
They did not speak as humans speak. They did not quarrel the way humans quarreled. The land meant little to them; the spirits cherished the skies, drank the sun, and ate the moon's shine.
In this place, they made a pact with the humans of the Sun Throne. A pact not broken in a thousand years. One the spirits were happy to keep. They saw the coming death of the King as a sign. The bloodline would be cut. They jostled amongst themselves the moment before they felt it happen, the tension making them anxious as they awaited the cutting of the bloodline. Then it happened, the end of the line, and they squawked and chirped in unison. And danced. And flung themselves in the air and swooped to the ground and back up again.
They did this until the sun finally set in the west, the last glimmers of light ran from deep purple to deep black, and the stars in the east began to glow. At that moment, they all stopped and waited as still as stones. Without the sun's light, they each looked like gems carved into the shape of birds. The ones that fed off sunlight still glowed, and the ones that lived off the moon's shine turned obsidian.
If the words of the pact had a translation, it might be this: No one worthy of a new sky is ever born in the plane of their conception. A new bond must be made essential if we of spirit and those of flesh are to survive and move to a higher level.
In the center of the ashes, a puddle began to glow, at first red, then orange, then a blinding white. And from the ashes, a bar of light as thick as the trunk of the most giant tree erupted and shot into the sky, connecting the earth to the stars.
So, a new pact was made. The old pact was pushed aside and left behind on the old plane, a solution to surviving the last thousand years but a certain doom for the next thousand.
To whom will the pact be offered? That is what each spirit asked in one unified cry but in each spirit's language and ways.
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jdo51ue
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jdo49hk
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[WP] It’s been a long relationship but the partnership ends here. Your girlfriend is too bossy, lazy, and uncompromising. You’re not sure how to go about breaking up with a Dark Goddess though.
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Tendrils of smoke slithered over the carpet where one of her feet was resting. Her other leg was crossed over the first, her hands resting on the elevated knee. An aura of purple darkness wisped from her form, sapping the light from the room, making her the focal point of all things.
"I want you to know that these last few years have been really great," I grinned a lipless--if terse--smile.
"Yes," she agreed, her expression fixed in quiet, curious judgement.
"And I think that you are so many wonderful things."
Her glowing, purple eyes were impassive, waiting for me to get to the point.
"But I think our paths are diverging. I'm holding you back. And this relationship is holding me back in so many ways as well." The words had been feverishly rehearsed for the past week. My bedroom's waste bin was piled high with discarded drafts of my breakup speech.
She uncrossed her legs, planting both feet on the floor. Her foreboding form leaned forward, hands on her knees and frown tugging at the bottom of her cheeks.
She opened her mouth, revealing rows of razor sharp demon teeth. "You don't love me anymore?"
"Eris, it's not that," I assured her, keeping my voice soft and slow, the way WikiHow said I should.
"No. You hate me!" Her lips trembled and tears collected in her ethereal eyes.
"I don't hate you!" I protested. "I just don't think we're good for each other anymore."
"I can be more fun," she rushed to the words. "I can go out more. I can dress up more. What am I doing wrong? I can fix it!"
"I don't want you to fix yourself. You're not broken!"
"Then why are you leaving?"
The guilt felt like a punch in the chest. Eris, this goddess of discord, had been so misunderstood, so victimized by prejudice and derision. And here I was, her longest serious partner, breaking up with her.
"Because," I sighed, "I'm not ready to settle down. I can't give you what you need."
"I only need you," she wept the words, each syllable a stone against my heart.
"That's the problem," I took her ice cold hand in mine, "I'm not supposed to be everything to you. Nor you to me."
"I can change that. I can be less clingy. Just stay. *Please, stay!"*
I tried to take my hand back, but she held on to it tightly. "Eris..."
"John. Don't leave me. I can be better. I promise." Her leg was tapping nervously, and although her skin was sickly white with long blue veins travelling through her hands and face, she seemed somehow paler.
"I...I don't want to hurt you..."
"Then don't!" She barked in a sad laugh that spilled a tear from her eye. "Stay! I'll do whatever you want--*be* whoever you want!"
I felt her creep closer, her hands travelling up my arm, the black mist wrapping around my legs, pulling me into her.
"I want to make you happy," she whispered. Her hand let go of mine, but landed in my lap. "Let me do that for you."
Suddenly, her lips locked with mine, her tongue forcing its way into my mouth. My thoughts became soft and warm despite the frigid skin that pressed against my face.
Several hours later, she was fast asleep, her arm wrapped around my chest.
My phone pinged. It was Aphrodite. *Did you do it yet*?
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"How about if I - no, that won't do. Wait, what about - no, that isn't gonna work, either..." why were break up's so difficult? Why weren't there hallmark cards for break up's?
'Roses are red, violets are blue, we're not very compatible so I'm leaving you'
That quick little line made me chuckle, only for me to start panicking once more as I walked down the sidewalk toward our shared apartment. I couldn't help but worry about how she'd react. As a frequent peruser of reddit, I had read many tales of break up's going bad - the ex becoming a stalker, and causing damage to the person's self, mentality, career, reputation, or their property. Sometimes a combination of it all!
It hadn't always been a difficult relationship. In the beginning, we had fun. She revealed to me a world I never knew existed. Before her, if someone had told me about such wonders, I would have called them insane! But with her, it was another reality! Those first few years were amazing. Of course, as any couple does, we had our little disagreements here and there, but we worked through them! And I thought it only strengthened our relationship. But, I guess I'm the only one who thought that, because at around the fourth year, things changed. And not for the better, I might add.
At first, it was just refusal to do small tasks. No big deal, they were simple enough that I could take care of them right away with no real impact to anything else. But it began to escalate. It got to the point where, when I left in the morning, she would be in the living room, staring intently at the television. I would say bye, and I would either get a simple wave, or the ever-so-loving "don't bother me right now". How loving, don't you think? When I would come back after being gone all day, can you guess where she would be? Yep! Still in front of that damn television! Some night, I dreamt of smashing that blasted thing, but that would never end well for me.
Her laziness reared it's ugly head after about a week, when plates and dishes just began to pile up around her, along with take out containers, open and half drunk beverages. There was a small mound of garbage NEXT to the garbage can, which was full to the brim as well! Laundry was piled up in front of the washer, and any load that had been put in the washer was still in there, not being put in the dryer. I was happy we didn't have any pets.
That began to lead her to become demanding and bossy. "The apartment is dirty. Clean it before our guests arrive this evening." Or, "Why haven't you done the laundry, yet?" Then there was my personal favourite, "I do all the work around here, the least you can do is cook me a meal every once in a while." I nearly snapped at that one. Saw the grim reaper, so I decided to bite the bullet, after all I do like living.
I tried having a sit down with her, tried coming to a compromise, but to no avail. Is it that difficult to agree to vacuum and dust the apartment twice a week, as well as just pick up after yourself? I offered to do dishes, cook, clean, and do laundry the whole week - that is, five days - if she just did those. The other two days of the week were shared days. We'd each take care of certain responsibilities, but help the other if they needed it. Not difficult, right? Wrong! She refused. Refused! Why?! I had it all worked out! It was the most beneficial schedule to her! I would be - nope, not going on a tangent on that.
I looked up, realizing that I could see my apartment just down the street. Each step feeling heavier and heavier as I drew closer and closer. My chest tightened, and little beads of sweat appeared on my forehead. I walked up the four steps that lead to the entrance. I took a deep breath, buzzed myself in, and steeled my resolve. No matter what happens afterward, this needed to be done.
Stepping into our apartment, I went to the couch and grabbed the remote. Pointing it to the television, I pressed the off button. As soon as it went black, she screamed. The temperature in the place dropped, and she slowly began to levitate, her raven black hair slowly floating around her face. She turned to face me, her pure obsidian eyes boring into me like daggers. I could sense her aura, and the anger she exuded. It was strong enough that the windows were slightly rattling. But I guess when she looked at my face, or read my aura, or whatever it is God's do, she could sense something wasn't right, because that intense feeling of hatred dulled a bit, and she moved to stand before me, instead of levitate.
Once again, I took a breath, steadied my heart, and calmly looked at her.
"We need to talk."
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jkx10ep
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jkwt2qz
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[WP] You have been kidnapped by a human trafficking ring, & it’s unlikely that the authorities can recover you at this point. Unfortunately for your kidnappers, your SO is a member of the Greek pantheon.
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My kidnappers had been foolish to think I would be an easy target just because I had no immediate family and lived alone. They thought they had covered their trail very well when the small television in my room kept droning on about the news of my disappearance and the struggles of the police authorities to find me.
They didn't count on my boyfriend doing what the police could not do.
Vengeance had been swift once he realized where I was kept. He rarely made appearances in the waking world of mortals, preferring to meet me in my dreams tethered by his brother.
I peered outside the tiny window of my cell, gripping the bars, watching their quiet deaths unfold.
Dark portals pooled around the corridor, chains of steel emerging to pull my captors into the underworld. They barely had time to react or scream as the first chain that came for them typically clapped around their mouths to silence their voices. There was no running, no fleeing from death when it came.
He didn't like being outwitted, cheated, or robbed of things that belonged to him. With a heart of cold steel, and a spirit as pitiless as the relentless night, anyone he seizes with the chains, he holds them fast and tight in his iron grip, and even the handful who managed to escape are always caught and later punished for eternity.
None of my captors got away. All of them vanished from this earth and I doubt they will be missed.
My beloved wrapped his chains around the bars of the door that stood between me and him. With a single pull, they fell apart and I ran to hug him. His wings embraced me as his black robes flapped dramatically from a wind streaming out from his domain.
"You're alive. I apologize for the delay, there was much work to do in my realm."
I reassured him I was fine, even as I was shaking from head to toe. There were many things that frightened me; torture, the sound of thunder, clowns, enclosed spaces...but I wasn't scared of dying.
How could I, when I was dating Thanatos and good friends with his brother Hypnos?
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Aphrodite is perfect in form, without blemish. Every detail of her aesthetic is locked into place, seemingly without error. I am hers.
I met her on Craigslist. She put out an ad in the personals saying she was running a dating school. Having struggled with that, I signed up. I was surprised when the first class met and I was the only one there. She instructed me anyways, giving me innumerable tips to improve my appearance, confidence, presentation, and communication skills. As the classes went on, it became clearer that she wanted me to want her. She asked me what I wanted in a person, and I said I wanted one as beautiful as she was. She seemed pleased with this, and afterward, she told me that she wanted me to go on a date with her.
During our first date, I asked her where the name Aphrodite came from, and she told me that she was the Greek Goddess Aphrodite. I almost spit out my pasta, before recalling that would be the type of bad etiquette that she abhorred. I just smiled, and asked, "How?" She told me that she'd always existed, since the dawn of time, and that only a lucky few ever got to meet her. I asked her why she didn't already have a date or a significant other, and she said she had many throughout history but was currently single. I couldn't help but say that this seemed suspicious, a dating school instructor being single, but she just smiled and told me to feel grateful for being lucky.
We went on a few dates. On the last one, she kissed me. It was the most perfectly blissful thing I'd ever experienced. I started to dread right away that I'd lose her. She was Aphrodite, and she could have whomever she wanted. I was rather plain and boring, why would she want me?
I didn't have long to fret over this, for the day after the kiss I was ambushed by five men dressed in black. I thought I had done something wrong. I tried to think of all the reasons why they would kidnap me. I plead my innocence and screamed that I knew Aphrodite and that she had special powers. They put a bag over my head and forced me into what felt like a van. We drove forever, then flew, and when I got off the plane I could feel desert heat and sand. In tears, I prayed for Aphrodite, my beloved, to save me.
The men took me down into a chamber, where they took the bag off my head. I was surprised to see many other people there, heads bowed. I was even more surprised to see Aphrodite, standing up on a stage. I tried to scream for her, but the men kicked and slapped me until I kept quiet.
I felt pain at having been tricked, and agony at seeing my lover ignore me, but I understand now. She spoke on the stage, telling us that this was the final step of dating school. We all wanted her, and to have her, we must prove above all else that we have mastered the techniques taught in the class. With time, she said, our appearance, presentation, and communication skills could be *better*. Only the one with the *best* skills would have her hand.
It seemed absurd, stupid. There were dozens of other people. I stood no chance against them, surely some were better than me. I told her that during my first 1-1 on with her, and she told me that was the very thinking that had led me to dating school in the first place. I hadn't talked to people with the assumption that I wasn't good enough for them, but in reality, nobody was better than anyone else. I had to assume that I was the best, and then I would act like it. Only then would I stand a chance.
She was absolutely right. Sometimes I doubt, but she always corrects me.
In glory to Aphrodite, may your hand be mine.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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lczveij
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lczttgx
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[WP] Once an hour, every hour, the richest person on earth dies. This continues indefinitely...
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The bell tolls.
The hardest part was the timing.
You had to make sure that you transferred the money on the hour every hour.
I spent days working on the automatic transfer, setting up the plans for the prewritten wills needed for an operation like this.
As for people? It’s kind of crazy what desperate people will do for their families’ future’s to be secured.
The idea is simple. Transfer the wealth of the richest people in the world to a willing subject on the hour every hour. After their death the money is returned and the rich pay off their family and move on.
There were protests, of course there were protests, far fewer than you’d expect though. Well, I guess it’s not really surprising after the first few figureheads dropped dead in front of their followers. A banking error had made them the richest in the world for an unlucky few seconds. “Unlucky”.
……
Thinking back to the first 6 months I feel like everything worked out as you’d expect. Chaos. It was kind of shocking the people who died, seeing the desperate shows of philanthropy to decrease your wealth enough to survive.
But everything has rules and rules can be studied. Having massive wealth gets you killed, but it’s binary, it simply adds assets it has no regard for how any why the “value” was acquired. Some leaders of countries died before realizing this, as did a few CEOs.
Having rules means loopholes and no one is better at using loopholes than the rich.
By pooling their wealth the top 20 or so richest people remaining suddenly had the ability to make anyone they chose the richest person in the world.
They suddenly had the power to kill anyone they wanted without any possible defense.
You can imagine how that went.
That system is automated now, thanks to me.
……
I type my name into the machine.
My phone rings, there has been a deposit to my account.
The bell tolls.
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“Durva aunty! Tarun is fighting with the boys and isn’t giving the ball,” said one of the three little kids who had come to call Durva.
“What!” 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. “Where is he?”
“The ground!” The kids shouted in unison behind her.
*No! Not Tarun. I don’t know how long he has held onto the ball. I hope to God he doesn’t think it belongs to him!*
Durva ran through the street flanked by houses. The gates always were open, many gates were removed decades ago.
“Nothing is yours! Everything is ours!” 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, “Tarun!”
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 didn’t 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, “The ball is not yours. Nothing is yours! Get that thought out of your mind, Tarun!”
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 hadn’t 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.
“You 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!” Durva spoke into Tarun’s ears as she caressed his head and walked back.
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l4ewnz9
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l4e8a6l
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[WP] You are a supervillain who is feared across the globe. However, your acts of villainy have caused zero injuries or deaths. Instead, what people fear you for: You take a minor inconvenience, and apply it at large scale. The heroes are at a loss, for they can never stop you.
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I am Nitro. I am the fastest man alive. And boy do people hate that. I don't go around robbing banks or killing people, or really anything of that sort. I just like making people's lives inconvenient. The sneeze that never comes? I make sure it never does. The sock falling down into your shoe? I make sure it's big enough for you to never ignore. Throw a few pebbles into the shoes for good measure. That remote that you can't find? I put it in the most random spots that will leave them confused for the rest of their lives. Washing your hands with a long sleeve shirt or jacket? You know damn well that I make sure that's soaking wet.
The best part about this? I know that no one can stop me. None of the heroes can come close to catching me. Some of them can see me coming but they know they can't catch me. Even the boy scout, Sentinel. I even found out who he was and made his proposal to his now wife inconvenient as well. Not enough to completely ruin his relationship, but enough for his wife to still be laughing about it. Him kneeling down in a puddle that wasn't there before? Check. Untying his shoelace so that his future wife thinks that he's just tying his shoe? Check. The ring box being put in a different pocket? Check. The best part about it was that he saw me the whole time.
You see, Sentinel is pretty fast too. Second only to me, but he still can't catch me. Not even close. I made sure I made eye contact with him as I was doing those things to him. All with a big smile on my face. He couldn't do a damn thing about it either. Not unless he wants to put his identity at risk for the other, more nefarious villains.
But back to me. It's getting close to morning now. I have found all the people in the world that have that little bit of milk left in their fridge. Just enough for that one bowl in the morning before they really start their day. After they pour in the cereal to the bowl, I'll take the milk and put back the empty carton/bag/plastic/glass containers into the fridge. So they all have to either suck it up and eat the dry cereal, go without breakfast, or run to the store and get a new one.
What about the people who put the milk in before their cereal you ask? Well... I have to have cereal with my milk too.
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Edit: nsfw/language
It’s funny. You’ve probably heard it tens of thousands of times… ever since you were a little kid. Climate change. Greenhouse gases. The need to reduce our environmental impacts to avert disaster. But ten, twenty, thirty years later, here we are, doing the same fucking thing, despite that the consequences of our actions have been laid out for our entire lives.
The most recent evidence suggests that we need to reduce our emissions by 60% by 2035 if we are to have any hope of keeping global warming to 1.5 degrees. Keep in mind, even doing that, we are going to continue to see disastrous weather events, rising sea water, and a migration crisis that will make the 2015 European migrant crisis like a walk in the park.
But you, you fucks don’t want to do *anything*. God forbid you pay a little fucking extra and actually account for the disastrous cost of carbon. God forbid some of your hard earned tax money be spent on mitigating the damage while we still can. No no no. You fucks would rather bury your head in the sand, roll fucking coal, and do your damndest to make the world worse for everyone else. I mean for fuck sales you can’t even *reduce* your meat consumption, let alone phase it out, even though livestock account for 17% of our fucking emissions and you’re murdering them by the billions every year. For fuck sakes. At every opportunity you will choose convenience over the future of your planet and your own species.
None of you would bear the most minor fucking inconvenience willingly. No no no. You *NEEDED* someone to make you. You’re like fucking children, can’t make the hard decisions. And so you need an adult to make them for you, and for that, you labelled me a villain. Fuck, all I did on a global scale was make it so that your personal AC systems shit the bed. I left the air conditioning on public transit working. Thought maybe that would entice some of you fucks to use it more. Bud good god judging by your reactions you would think I kicked a dog! Warrants for my arrest and everything.
But you see. You’ll never find me. With the snap of my fingers I can *make* you suffer the inconveniences this world requires. You’ll never know my name. You’ll never know my face. But you will know the consequences of your pathetic self-indulgence.
I started small of course. It’s… challenging to find the limits of this power. What counts as an inconvenience… what’s more…. Where’s the line? But food allergies? Oh… I would call that a major inconvenience…
You see I got the idea from this little thing called the lone star tick. It’s found in most of the southeastern United States. A most peculiar creature. You see when this fucker bites you, it can cause you to produce antibodies against alpha-gal, a sugar found in every single mammal on earth. That’s right. Those that are bit by these little fuckers have the *inconvenience* of being allergic to beef, pork, lamb… pretty much every fucking meat that you all so enjoy. And this isn’t the sniffles. Try and eat that shit and you’ll be trapped in your bathroom for days… both ends. Oh, and alpha gal is found in dairy by the way, so don’t try anything funny.
You fucks couldn’t cut down on your consumption, so now you don’t have a choice. You see, this inconvenience that normally only maybe a few hundred thousand people in the continental United States now applies to *all of you*. Congratulations. You all have alpha-gal syndrome. Why? Because I fucking say so. That’s why. You petulant children can go without meat, billions of mammals need suffer no longer, and our planet - and your future - will be better for it.
And don’t worry. This isn’t the last you whiny fucks will hear from me. Oh no no. Like I said, you bastards can’t make the hard decisions, so now I’m going to make them for you.
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jen86ct
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jemt4ih
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[WP] An elf goes out on a ‘short errand’, forgetting that 30 years is a long time to have left his human wife and child at home.
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In terms of lifespans, elves were generally accepted to be functionally immortal. The oldest known, was around 9000 years old but there are rumors of sages over a 100,000 years old.
It was also widely known that this was not natural but a result of the largest ritual in recorded history. In fact there's been speculation that elves were just humans from a highly advanced human civilisation and the physical differences were also a result of the same ritual that gave them their lifespans.
The evidence for that is elves and humans can have offspring. The resulting half-elves are known to live up to a thousand years or so.
All that is to say, when my father left on an errand one day, everyone knew he wasn't coming back. In fact, it was widely known that for relatively young elves who have never had long term contact with individual humans, they lack the understanding that short meant minutes or an hour, not years. There are two scenarios when young elves take human partners, they remain with their spouses till the day they die, and learning that humans don't live long or they decide to go on *short* errands.
For a 15 year old, I was sorely ignorant of the world but even so, I knew something was wrong in hoe desperate mum was in trying to get dad to stay.
The last thing he said to us respectively was "You worry, too much, I'll be back in a while" and "I'll see you around kiddo"
Thirty years have passed since then. Mum passed away, still waiting for dad to come back, and I've taken up the vigil. Not because I was desperate to see the man, nor was it because I promised my mum that I would. Not entirely anyway. It's because I vowed to myself that I would give him a good punch, the moment he shows up.
Being an adventurer, the chances are that I would miss the moment when he does come back but as fate would have it. I didn't.
As I've practiced countless times, when the door opened, I stood from my usual seat by the wall where the door would be blocking me from view once open and hearing the phrase "Honey, I'm home" uttered, I stepped around the door, and crouched low, throwing a haymaker that connected beautifully.
Aiming for his abdomen, I feel him fold then straightening up, I watch as he falls to his knees, groaning "What?" He raises his head to look at me. "Who?"
"Welcome home father. We have much to discuss"
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*Dear Delyse.*
*My lovely daughter. My dear. Poor girl. I hear of the misery your father’s passing has caused you. It aches me to hear, it tears at the sinew of my soul. I wish for you to not experience any of this anguish. Let it be known that I love you. And always will.*
*I did not intend to leave your father alone to raise you for nearly twenty years. I did not intended for him to be alone during his last days, but he slipped through my mind. I was preoccupied. I did not expect him to meet his demise at 36 years of age. This is a very short life, even for a human being.*
*I know it would have given you immediate comfort to have been there as he succumbed to his injuries, or knowing I was with him. But we were not. He is dead. It does not matter. The anguish you feel for him will be a memory in a few hundred years.*
*The first time will always be the worst. But I will try to explain this. It is easier for you to understand in human terms.*
*Human scientists are fascinated by fruit flies. There are many reasons for this, they believe the bugs share a number of genetic threads with other animals. Many vestigial organs and systems similar to others. They breed quickly and provide vast samples to play around with.*
*A less important factor is their short lives. They are born, they fly, they breed, grow old, and die in two months if they’re lucky. Outside testing facilities and the protection of humanity their lives are much shorter. The fly will die, and if a human were to die in 10 years, they would still live a life over a hundred times longer.*
*Your father, Khenan… he was like a fly to me.*
*I have lived for thousands of years. He was not my first. And he will not be my last. Not my first in this, “Jamaica”. Not my first with such dark skin. Not even the only one I have at this very moment. Both males and females, but they are all flies. The ones passed were all flies. I am sure I paired myself to an ancestor of his once. A Nubian Queen, many, many miles East of here, across the ocean*
*Do you not realize how* ***suffocating*** *it felt? Having been his* ***only*** *partner? Whenever I visited, he would hug and plead and sleep on top of me as if he would die in minutes. I blink and he was born. I blink and he has grown, clutching onto me. Like a baby. I blink and I am pregnant. I blink and you are here. I blink and he is dead. I blink and you are grown, kicking and whining, because he is dead.*
*They all die. So swiftly. It is pointless.*
*… Many humans also love dogs. And cats. They live over a decade before becoming old and bitter. A human can love and care for one it’s entire life without devoting a significant amount of it’s own life to it. In time, it is a distant memory. An achievement, history. Soon, meaningless.*
*My daughter. You are similar to a dog. Or a cat. But more meaningful than a fly. You are also not my first, but you are one of the few. You have inherited my negligible senescence. You will live for at least 500 years if you are fortunate.*
*Dogs and cats love. Or at least appreciate. Human beings know this, even if it is temporary. I consider your love much more meaningful than your father's love. My love for you is much more than anything I felt for him.*
*But his death did not leave my unfazed Delyse. Your misery is like a stake to my heart, tearing it tendon by tendon, sinew, and soul. Your pain is my pain, I wish I can take it all away from you and bring it onto myself. But I cannot do this for you, Delyse.*
*This will happen to you again. And again. And again. I hope your father helps you realize. Everyone you know and love will shrivel up and blow away before you even look 30. It is not up to me how you choose to deal with this, but you will see it, or you will feel it.*
*But know that you are my daughter, and that I will always love you.*
*Best wishes*
*- Gylledhia*
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lfhix3m
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lfh7ul3
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[WP] You have a completely useless superpower in a world full of amazing superpowers. You have been a laughing-stock for years, until you started using your powers for evil... nobody is laughing now.
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They call it "tactile telekinesis", and it sounds freaking awesome. Until you realize just how big a difference range can make. My power has a range of literally inches - maybe a foot, if I concentrate, but then only for a moment. Within that range, I can lift several times my bodyweight. Still sounds useful, right?
Wrong. The mass has to be located in my effective range. So you got a refrigerator to move? Sorry, unless it's a foot cubed, I've got the same lifting capability of any other normal guy. I've tried everything to make my power useful, working out to bulk up (technically works, my weight limit increased), practicing daily to extend my range (worked a little - that's why I can push out to 11-12 inches), I even talked to a couple of brainy types to see if they could fix my problems. One of them had the nerve to tell me I should focus on "precise control" instead of helping me turn this into a hero-worthy power! The nerve!
Well maybe he wasn't wrong, though. I did add some new exercises to my daily training. And it turns out I can focus on a smaller area with interesting results. My control actually gets better on small areas, I can feel the structure of what I'm touching. And I mean really feel it down to very fine detail. I tried to focus on my phone, figured I could maybe use it "hands-free", manipulate the screen through my power. And I could! But more than that, I could feel the tiny flow of electricity below that.
And I can manipulate that even more easily than I'd have thought possible. It took awhile to get a feel for it. I might have fried a couple of phones before I got it figured out. Still not a hero-worthy power, though. They laughed me right out of the building when I tried to show them what I could do.
So I'm going into business for myself. Started small, ATMs and the like. As long as the mechanism is near the surface, I can trigger it with little trouble. My trial run took place while I was doing my regular weekly deposit, just made the machine spit out money while it was reading my card. No need to make a special trip and look all shifty with a hoodie and shades.
Sure, "bank robbing" is a little low-brow and cliché, but we've all got to start somewhere. And really, I'm not a *bad* bad guy. I'm pretty sure I could use this to literally rearrange someone's nervous system signals if I got into touching distance, but I wouldn't do that! I'm learning more about computers, though, because you know - that's where the future's heading. Everything is electronic these days. Security systems, locks, practically anything you can think of has delicate inner workings just out of sight.
I think things are finally looking up.
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The ability to turn anything I touch into poo made me a pretty useless hero. In a world dominated by superpowers such as laser eyes, flying and x-ray vision, the others viewed me as a good-for-nothing nobody. A poster hero of uselessness.
Even regular people were pretty unamused by my so-called superpower. I couldn't even get a job at a fertilizer company as the poo I made from stone turned out to be human poo, which is, as fortune would have it, quite useless.
Tragedy struck my family like thunder, my father had killed himself after the shame brought upon his family name. He couldn't take it anymore. Kids would throw stones and break our windows, shouting: "Poo man, poo man, poor-man!" Our neighbors ignored us and random people on the street would snicker or shout obscenities as they passed our home. My father was by no means a proud man, but he had dignity. It was that same dignity that brought him to an early grave.
I loved my father. He was the one and only thing keeping me from killing myself. He would always tell me: A man is not defined by his birth, but by merit. And he truly believed that and I truly believed that, until he no longer believed it, I guess? He worked a blue-collar job, he was a self-made man, even the house we had, he built with his own two hands. And now, it all amounted to nothing.
My stomach recoiled and I felt bile stuck in my throat. It was shit. It was all fucking shit. Poo. The funeral yesterday was the last straw, the last thing keeping me from turning this wretched Earth into what it really was, poo. Nobody except for the Priest and me showed up. Not even my bitch mother. I was by no means a misanthrope, but years of constant derision, mockery and segregation combined with my father's suicide, made everything look so grim, dystopian and decadent.
Why? Why did he have to die? My mother left him when I was four for a fling and now I was all alone, with nothing. No respect, dignity or... Or morals. Why would I subscribe to the rules of the very society that ousted me? That took everything away from me by no fault of mine? Even my dad, the only person I cherished in this world.
Oh father, forgive me, but I think it's time to show the world what it gets for shitting on me for so long.
I never really tested my abilities on humans or animals, I found it to be too crude, callous and inhumane. But now, now it's on.
Having experimented with a few animals, I noticed that not only could I turn them into poo by mere touch, but that I could, if I concentrated, turn anything in a five feet radius into poo. The homeless man down the street was my last and final test - I easily turned him into poo and he didn't even notice me.
As I returned home, mentally exhausted from my first kill, a knock on the door. Five of the most elite heroes came to pay respects to my father. They heard what had happened and felt sorry for the poor ol' me. I was about to let them in. With glee in my eyes I rushed to the front door; maybe the world wasn't so rotten, maybe there is some humanity left after all, maybe I was too eager to pull the trigger on the planet and all its inhabitants.
As I was about to unlock the door, I heard laughter from outside. I placed my right ear next to the door frame. What I heard crushed me into a million pieces, the final nail in the coffin, like the eyes of a fly, now my empathy has become that of an insect.
"Did you know that people shit themselves before they die?"
"A fitting end for the poor-man."
More laughter. These monsters clad in black out of respect? Out of what? Why?
I turned the door into poo. As the last remnants of the frame were melting into a gooey mass down on the floor, the Captain screamed that no unauthorized use of superpowers was permitted.
I looked at them, with so much vile hatred in my eyes. I was crying.
"STOP IT! STOP IT NOW!" I screamed with all my might.
"What are you going to do, poo-man, turn us into poo?" Cladestine snickered and the others were holding in their laughter.
"Exactly."
With one word and a flick of my wrist, all five turned into what they really were, a steaming pile of shit.
(Typed this on mobile, sorry for any mistakes.)
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k78p1n4
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k78oueo
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[WP] It becomes abundantly clear to the characters that the narrator has terrible narrating skills. They start to get off track criticizing the narrator for every mistake and bland writing.
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**The November Battlefield**
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“This is what happens when nobody believes," Father Christmas spat a wad of blood and wiped his eye with a once white fuzzy cuff that now matched the hue of his suit.
The November battlefield was once beautiful.
Falling leaves on the ground. Poetry in the wind. Nostalgia in the hearts.
"Look what you have done!" the Lady Lord of Halloween shouted. She wore an armor suit weaved of bone. Her hair was long and black in a single braid wrapped in webs. She gestured with her sword, a great long blade of twisted black metal, over the burned battlefield.
In the piles of the dead some soldiers cry wounded, clawing in the mud.
Elves, ghouls, skeletons, reindeers, turkey, patrons of giving -- they all littered the field.
"I told you -" Father Christmas spotted the Thanksgiving Steward, a sprite, the keeping of grateful remembrance. Small and mighty. Bleeding and struggling to sit up.
"Don't -" the Lady of Lord of Halloween started to plea but it was too late. The sprite was brought to an end by a size twelve boot.
The Lady Lord of Halloween cursed the heavens and took a firm grip to her sword, and with both hands held it before her chest. She took a deep breath.
Behind her the lands off October lay in smog and enclosing doom.
"On my honor, one of us will die before you set foot on October soil!" She cried and charged.
Father Christmas cracked his knuckles and took a fighting stance. "I will make them all believe again!"
She swung, he dodged and spun around and swung his sledgehammer sized fists wildly. He towered over her. A once humble giant turned to a ferocious beast.
The Lady Lord of Halloween flipped back and around, she couldn't be touched.
Father Christmas screamed in anger -- "I gave them everything! And still they all love you!"
He was rage and unbound. Sloppy. A misstep. A spin. A single chop and one of his sledgehammer fists parted from his body and before he could calculate it all the Lady Lord of Halloween had twisted and ducked low and the twisted black steel went in that once jolly belly and popped out his back in a geyser of blood.
Father Christmas kept on his feet.
He reached for her and snarled.
She dug the blade deeper. And twisted.
Bloody tears ran down his face.
He fought it, knees shaking, and finally he fell to one knee.
"They -" he coughed. "They did this to me."
The Lady Lord of Halloween felt pity for him. They were friends all their long years, as they say. But her eyes gazed over him to the destruction he had brought.
"You did this to yourself," she ripped the blade from his gut and he fell dead. In the mud it was hard to tell where his suit ended and the pool of his blood began.
The Lady Lord of Halloween looked around and started to cry.
She found a wounded soldier - the first one her eye saw - an elf, and went to his aid.
"Lady?" he asked.
"It's ok," she said. He could only look up at her confused.
She nodded. "It will be ok."
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r/wyrdfiction -- Sub if you like my writing.
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He need not have called so loudly, for Father Christmas' armies, adorned in blood red and snow white, had amassed right at the boundary line where they contrasted with the ominous orange and blacks of those aligned with Lord Halloween. Here in these lands, the first of November had been declared the official line of demarcation between the territories of the two holidays. It was only days away, but some members of the Christmas Faction were always over-eager, threatening the sovereignty of the Halloween.
Somewhere outside of Chicago, a man had stood on a ladder and hung a strand of green, white, and red bulbs across the eaves of his suburban home in September to get ahead of the weather. In a department store outside of Biloxi, workers had filled an aisle with Christmas themed merchandise on October tenth. Father Christmas let out a mighty laugh, shaking like a bowl full of horrid jelly as he did.
"You would deny me the right to expansion, Lord Halloween," he declared, his voice echoing across the battle-wrecked plains of the fourth quarter, "but you have no more power to control these fates than I. Your holiday is over when the plains of November begin, but mine have no such limitations."
Father Christmas pointed a finger gloved in immaculate white velvet, gesturing towards stores in tourist towns in New York and New Hampshire which operated Christmas stores year-round and shared visions of the top shelves of the closets of the highly prepared, where carefully thought-out Christmas presents began to amass in June. "Your people do not have such engrained traditions, Halloween. Your holiday is but a flash in the pan, and the forces of Christmas shall never respect such an arbitrary boundary!"
With business slowing, a Spirit Halloween built into the skeleton of a former grocery store in downtown Houston closed its doors a few days before Halloween. Lord Halloween bellowed with rage, his incised forces clanking sword to shield and straining to surge past the narrow strip separating the bulk of the two armies. As it had always been, they could all feel their power slipping once more as the unstoppable force of time rippled forward, bending and twisting its way toward the boundary line.
Father Christmas' eyes flashed as he saw his enemies falter at the brink. "It is true that we were once friends," he yelled at his counterpart, "but your season was in its infancy then! Meanwhile there are parts of this world where Christmas reigns supreme from September to December! We shall soon declare the entire Fourth Quarter to be-" he paused here to build impact, his armies cheering wildly behind him- "CHRISTMAS TIME!" His words fell into a volley of riotous cheers from his countrymen, waving banners of snowflakes and brandishing the cross.
And so the battle commenced. And when it all came to a bitter end on the morning of November 1, the Halloween armies lay decimated. Around the world, now, people began to decorate their houses with the symbols of Christmas as if driven by a force they could not describe. Evergreen trees, both real and artificial, filled bay windows. Lighted tinsel shapes dangled from streetlights and roof lines. And collectively, people reached into their wallets to begin the ritualistic purchases that defined the season for so many.
Lord Halloween lay on the ground, gazing upon the ruin that stretched all around the Fourth Quarter. "Christmas," he croaked, "must we go through this wretched dance every year?"
Father Christmas looked down at him and smiled coldly. "Ho, ho, ho," he laughed joylessly as he cinched his red cloak around his body and strode off across the barren fighting ground and back towards the lands that always glowed with the colors of Father Christmas and his unstoppable armies.
The Lord of Halloween lay silently for a moment, then sat up. He felt a stirring deep in the heart of Arizona where a young boy sat with his tablet, getting a jump on his costume for next year. He felt a similar sensation trickling in from Alberta as a bunch of of college students penned out their drunken plans from the previous night to travel to Mexico City the following year. They'd dress as luchadores, and did not much care for any talk of cultural appropriation.
A smile began to crackle across the lips of Lord Halloween. Seasonal spirits never truly died for some. Father Christmas had won the day, but Halloween and its armies of goblins and ghouls would find themselves back at the front lines again, just as soon as Fourth Quarter began again.
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jokavm6
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jok9tj7
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[WP] Humans aren't actually space Orcs, they're space Orcas. For most, they're a social, playful species. For their prey, however, the evil shit Humans can conjure up to hurt and destroy them is terrifying.
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My father had always enjoyed the great Earth classics, Chaucer, Mozart, Lady Gaga. The “true greats” as he would say.
They were renowned artists, performers and sportsmen across the sector. You would never find a kinder more gentle species than the Humans of Earth. I mean they named their homeworld after the soil on its surface - it doesn’t get more peaceful than that. Or so we thought.
When the Jar-Jahin attacked we discovered the price the Humans had paid to reach the unparalleled artistic heights of Gaga’s galactically renowned “Disco Stick” - it was a price of blood. The price now paid across the sector by all Jar-Jahin.
It started small, raiders on our trade routes, missing pleasure cruisers. We all thought it was pirates at first - just normal inter system transit risk. Besides we all had insurance so it wasn’t a big deal.
They made their first mistake of course when they targeted my fathers vessel.
His obsession with human culture meant half his complement was the sweet little mammals from Earth. He loved their jokes and stories and the singing. His first mate was a fantastic harmoniser for the chorus of “Applause” and she claimed to be a distant relative of Gaga. Or so my father always said at least.
The Jar-Jahin boarded his vessel and the captain burned her poor head clean off with his blaster at point blank range. He was trying to send a message it seems.
No longer satisfied with small raids they demanded my fathers entire cargo and they were going to get it under threat of further violence.
The cargo was bound for Marz, an outpost colony operated by the chocolatiers of Earth. Aiming to create a wonderland of pure imagination for those with a sweet tooth.
The cargo - it was embryos you see, human ones. They preferred to colonise new worlds with new people. Something a friend once called terra nova?
Besides the humans nobody else held much value in these little embryos. Clones were a much more effective colonising force for most of the galaxy. Upon learning of the lack of value in the cargo hold the Jar-Jahin captain ordered it destroyed. The Royal Court would have no use for this he said, and instead he took the human crew as slaves.
The humans in fairness to them tried the art of diplomacy first. They were willing to shrug off the embryo loss, I suppose when you’ve got a hundred billion people a few thousand balls of cells aren’t too much of a loss, but the slaves were another matter. Humans held freedom in the highest regard and had fought for generations to end slavery on their homeworld. It was baked into their culture and their spirit to breathe free and belong to no one.
It was admirable in a way, that they always advocated for the end of slavery at the Galactic Council. And in all trade negotiations I might add. Those silly little mammals trying their best to liberate the huddled masses was very endearing - they even managed to end slavery on my homeworld.
But the Jar-Jahin Royal Court would hear nothing of this. Slaves were taken by right in their culture and would be liberated under no circumstances.
The humans turned then. Their creativity turned to cunning, their passion into blood lust. Our military alliance with them shifted into their leadership overnight as their tacticians suddenly drew out vast battle plans and intricate infiltration missions.
They had agents already in the homeworld of the Jar-Jahin gene spliced and surgically altered to blend in. It stated with bombs and “terrorist attacks” at the Royal Court.
Suddenly across the whole sector previously dead rocks spun into life and vast quantum drive ships rose from the oceans of Earth.
It was relentless. The machines. The toxins. The rays of light blasting across the sector like stars exploding in a rainbow supernova. In many ways one could see the beauty in the violence. It was precise and haphazard and quiet and loud all at once. It was a total war waged on every front.
Economically the Jar-Jahin were ruined in a matter of days. Their military was in tatters after a few weeks. But it took a little longer to snap their spirit.
There are regions of space still now where the laws of physics themselves are broken.
One almost felt pity for the Jar-Jahin. Their homeworld desolate and destroyed, their star leaking plasma and their people drenched in blood.
It was not a pleasant end to their race.
But it taught the other council members a valuable lesson. The humans truly are artists you see. They dedicate themselves fully to it, just pray you never learn their Art of War.
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Been reading a lot of human fiction lately. Well, i think it's fiction. Tough to tell. Translation is more of an art than a science, especially across species lines.
In their fiction, there's a sort of creature called an "orc." These creatures are sapient and typically characterized as cruel and unintelligent but incredibly strong and resourceful and brave. I asked my human neighbor once and she said orcs were an artifact of a crueler time in human history, where painting large groups of people with a wide brush was more common and this trend towards generalizing was reflected in their fiction and fictional sapient species.
There was a period in their history, a very brief period, when humans themselves were regularly characterized as "space orcs." Their early space exploration and infrastructure involved a lot of danger and improvisation. That's fairly typical across the galaxy but some human fiction writers saw the hazards of space and determined that humans must actually be orc-like to explore space. So they wrote stories where humans were the bravest and strongest and most resourceful (and sometimes the cruelest) intelligent creatures in the universe. This was all before they successfully exited their sun's gravity and reached another star, before they were introduced to the greater galactic community. Space Orc stories became less popular when they began to understand the beautiful but mundane reality that every intelligent being in space is slightly crazy.
I've also been reading human nonfiction lately. There's a group of animals on their planet, cetaceans. Cetaceans are endothermic, endoskeletal, air-breathing aquatic predators. The largest animals in earth history are filter-feeding cetaceans that subsist on a diet of much smaller exoskeletal ectotherms. Cetaceans are highly social and humans have even established communication with them, proving some of them are sapient. Apparently they have no interest in space travel, though.
There's one species of cetacean, called orca, that are highly effective pack hunters, typically eating other aquatic endoskeletal air-breathing endotherms (though typically not other cetaceans). Some groups of humans even developed non-linguistic communication and cooperative hunting strategies with orca prior to establishing linguistic contact. Orca have a reputation among humans as social, sociable, kind, loyal creatures. But they have another nickname among humans, too: killer whales. Remember, cetaceans are predators. Most are hunters. Orca are ambush pack hunters. They were known to kill humans and destroy small human aquatic vessels prior to linguistic contact. Their reputation for cunning was only outmatched by their reputation for effective and brutal predatory violence.
I've been reading about all this because I've also been sailing with humans for a period. To tell you the truth, their spacecraft aren't all that impressive. They rely on organs that detect the electromagnetic spectrum like most species, so they build everything around being able to see. They're terrestrial and breathe air so their spacecraft need to be airtight. They mostly subsist on photosynthetic organisms but have carnivory in their recent evolutionary history. They prefer spacecraft that rotate to simulate gravity with spacious interiors and features to simulate conditions of their homeworld. Nothing spectacular or noteworthy.
But they traditionally build homes and other buildings with the dessicated and chemically treated remains of photosynthesizers, too. This wood tends to be highly flammable. Humans have a very long history of firefighting. Human sailors, both aboard aquatic vessels and spacecraft, have a tradition of being firefighters in addition to their other sailing duties. This is somewhat atypical. Very atypical for us, as you should well know.
I'm not used to human fire safety practices, practices they instill into their young at a very early age. This is embarrassing to admit but I mistakenly set fire to my dwelling aboard a human cylinder ship. I overcooked a human recipe i was trying, the food caught fire and i tossed the contents of the cooking pot on the floor in a panic. The rug caught fire, too, and rather quickly my entire dwelling was in flames. I didn't know what to do and i panicked and i hid in a storage closet.
I was too afraid to leave the closet and the fire was getting close to me and the smoke was making it nearly impossible to breathe when my neighbor tore down the door to my dwelling with an ax i didn't even know she had. She called out for me and somehow heard my feeble cry from within the closet. She ran through the flames, experiencing multiple minor burns across her body, ripped apart the closet door (again using the ax), grabbed me about the thorax, and dragged me outside. A person a quarter my mass risked her life, experienced multiple injuries to her person, and destroyed seemingly strong structures, all to save me, a near-total stranger of a completely different species, at an instant's notice. If the fire hadn't panicked me, the ferocity with which she acted would have.
I've been reading about human history lately. Biologically, they're pack-hunting persistence predators. Prior to their invention of interstellar travel, they fought countless brutal wars. Innumerable humans died from thrown rocks and stab wounds and supersonic projectile wounds and explosives and any other sort of death you can imagine, all inflicted by other humans. (Obviously, most humans historically died of disease, like with most peoples. But war and inter-human violence is one of their most common historical causes of death after disease.) Prior to my accidental close call with auto-immolation, prior to seeing my neighbor tear my home apart with an ax in an instant, i didn't believe it. They're very accommodating and kind hosts and have been in all my encounters with them.
They were wrong about themselves, though. Pardon the pun (assuming it translates well in your language) but they're not orcs. They're orcas.
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ll9j794
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ll89ls6
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[WP][TT] In the present life, you are what you eat. But when you die, it turns out you have to battle what you've eaten throughout your life to gain access to the afterlife. You remember, with a sinking feeling, that adventurous trip you took in Australia.
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When they took off her blindfold, they expected a panicked look in her eyes. But no, she just seemed… sleepy? As her vision cleared, she took a look at her captors and… there was pity in her eyes. A bunch of thugs. Maybe slave traders from the looks of it.
One of them noticed. Maybe they got off of it, she thought. The thug immediately pulled down her gag. He glared at her, trying to intimidate her but to no avail.
He clicked his tongue. “At least someone will pay to ruin that pretty face.”
A smirk. He almost wanted to punch her but he didn’t want to damage the goods. They thought she was an easy sell. She looked like a rich merchant’s daughter. If they couldn’t sell her, they can probably ask for ransom. But so far, her actions didn’t match a pampered brat.
“What? Got anything to say, lass?”
“You’re so fucked.” She could almost hear a scolding of her choice of words. Then again, if any of her siblings were here… well…
Before the man could respond, the ground shook. There was a loud banging on the walls. Her captors weren’t worried. This hideout might look shabby from the outside but they reinforced the inside with steel plates.
Steel plates that started to bend and pop off the walls.
“Yeah, I’m the youngest. I’m the only human so my siblings might be a bit…”
One segment of the wall was torn apart by sharp claws. From the other side, the ground started to crack as several sharp appendages started to burrow out. Dust fell from the ceiling. They could hear the flap of wings and several squeaks and chirps.
“...protective.”
The locked door made a singeing sound as a blade sliced through it like butter. Heavy steps echoed as a woman in armor made her way through the hole.
“Chris,” the woman called out. Though, it was more of a shock that she held her head under her arm. “Found you.”
A slithering sound hissed and the leader realized that some of his men were already missing.
“Sorry. I got careless,” Christina apologized. “Does dad know?”
“Our moms are keeping him occupied…”
All of a sudden, a terrible pressure weighed upon the area. It was heavy to the point that those inside could barely breathe. Well, Chris and her sisters weren’t affected that much. Almost as if they were used to it.
“...were keeping him occupied.”
- [Their Dad](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1eq10by/comment/lhp4rqg/)
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It's a large van, plenty of room to do some damage. One of Karen's captors sits near her, pointing with his thumb.
"Guess she thinks she's some kind of kung fu master with that blindfold on--"
In an instant, a bare foot slaps against his jaw. The slender man's skin ripples like a loose sheet on a bed. Pure horror paints her second captor’s face. Thin Tim might have been slight, but he was a seasoned fighter in their circle. To see him reduced to a limp mess with a single kick... who was this girl? Wasn't she supposed to be tied by the ankles?
"Tim! What the f--" Karen spins then rolls backward, wrapping her hands bound behind her back around the second captor's neck. She slams the back of her head into his nose, turning it nearly inside out.
"AHH!! AHH!!" the man screams.
"What's going on back there Jagmeet?" The driver can't make out the blur of commotion in the back through the rearview mirror. They're driving fast, he can't take his eyes off the road. The man in the passenger seat twists to face the back of the van, gun in hand. He sees his friend, Jagmeet, being repeatedly slammed in the face by the back of the young girl's head. Jagmeet flails and screams in vain. Nothing will save him.
The man in the passenger seat reaches for Jagmeet, making the worst mistake of his life. The driver swerves in an attempt to stave off Karen's attack, but Karen's dainty fingers latch onto the man in the passenger seat's finger, snapping it as Jagmeet slumps to the side, pulling Karen with him.
CRACK!
Karen dislocates her shoulder and twirls in the air to face the front of the van. The blindfold sticks, but Karen evolved past the need for eyes years ago.
SNAP!
Her shoulder pops back into place. Karen smacks Jagmeet's unconscious head into the passenger's hand, relinquishing the gun from his grip. The pistol misfires directly into her bindings. Unburdened by the shackles that once bound her, Karen leaps on all fours toward the man in the passenger seat.
"Kim, get your shit together!" shouts the driver. Ah yes, Kim, another name sings in Karen's ears.
"She's an animal I-- AHHH" Karen reaches into the front section of the car and sticks her pink acrylic nails into Kim's eye.
POP!
It's out, dangling by the nerve.
"WHAT THE FU--" Kim can't keep two eyes in his head, and the driver can't keep two eyes on the road. A semi swerves in front of them. The driver spins the wheel as fast as he can. The van topples and spins wildly. The limp bodies in the back flail as Karen walks on each wall as up becomes down, becomes down, becomes down. Like the center gear in a gyroscope, Karen cannot be anything less than perfectly level with the ground.
The van rolls to a stop. Kim mimics his friends, unconscious, but unfortunately for them all, still alive. Karen is nowhere in sight. Now's the driver's chance. His arm and leg are broken, his thigh bone protrudes from his camo pants, but the pain is numb in the shock. He needs to move, needs to survive.
Glass cracks behind him and he swivels his head. Nothing. Then from behind a giggle. He pivots again... nothing.
"WHAT ARE YOU!" the man screams into the air.
In his ears -- no -- in his head, he hears her.
"I'm the youngest of fifteen brothers, and my name is Karen. I'm invincible."
"AHHHH!!!" The driver covers his ears with both hands. Anything to get her out of his head. Then he feels her, from every direction, like the pressure of the deep ocean.
"What's your name? I need to know." the voice says.
"I-it's Jason!"
"That's my oldest brother's name."
"Oh thank god!"
"I hate my oldest brother. He's the only one stronger than me."
"NOOO--"
RRRRRIP!
Jason's head falls to the ground, his last look of terror still worn. Karen opens the van and grabs her Hello Kitty backpack and Sanrio crocs. It's time to run, or she may be late for her grade seven English class.
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j6n806k
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j6n75c9
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[WP] An entire city was wiped off the map by a disaster that took 100,000 lives. They were then all reincarnated in a fantasy realm as various species, with full memories intact. Yes: This is the story of a City-Wide Isekai.
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My morning this day went awry the first minute I woke up.
For a few past years, I had a habit - when I woke up, I checked my favorite news channel in Mailgram. This day, however, I wasn't able to do so - because nothing in my house had Internet connection.
Nor WiFi, nor 4G worked. I was a bit begrudged about it, but whatever - I could live without it for a day. More so, my ISP and mobile provider were the same company, so I just assumed something went wrong on their end (again). I was in no mood to argue with them at 6:30 AM and was going to work, so I postponed this problem to a later date.
Then, I decided to cook some eggs. And - surprise! - no electricity either.
Well, at least it explained things - if it was city wide outage, mobile towers with internet are obviously out of commission too. And, if it was a city wide problem, that meant what I didn't need to argue with anyone myself. At least some good came out of it.
The other problem was, however, that I lived on 12 floor of an apartment building. If there was no electricity, that meant what I had to take stairs. But I just counted it as morning exercise.
Finally, after stairs took all my breath away, I was able to leave the building. I worked in local school as a "Fundamentals of life safety" teacher. Basically, I told young and silly schoolboys and girls how not to get lost in the forest, what to do with contraceptives, and how to bandage a wound in critical situation. So, I was pretty health myself - as an example for kids and teenagers. However, taking stairs almost took me out, but I prevailed.
Luckily, my school was nearby, 8 minutes at brisk walk pace. You would think that if there is power outage, where would be no classes today. But 1) If outage was for a long time, we need to use schools as community gathering centers 2) It is not like we need electricity to give classes. We are not that rich to give pads or something to children - books here were still go-to. In other words - even if had to work only with sunlight, I still had my classes to give.
And only when I started walking to school I noticed something.
The mountains were gone.
See, our small city was located in Urals - so, the mountains were constantly giving us their monumental shadow. And now, they were gone.
I tried clearing my eyes, thinking maybe I was just too tired after this morning's exercise. But nope - mountains didn't appear.
A feeling of dread started creeping on me.
I sped up my walk to school and noticed a lot of people were headed to it too - both students and their parents alike. Some of these parents, I knew for sure, had an early morning jobs and should be on their way at this time of day.
I started running.
By the time I reached a school, a crowd was at school's yard. I saw our principal, Ursula Pavlovna - a stoic, 50-something woman, with stern gaze, endless love for children, and an utter hatred for people who tried to meddle in her school affairs. In other words - great woman.
She saw me approaching and waved me to come. People in crowd saw me too and started to give way - I was pretty known person around these parts and no one tried to block me.
Only when I approached the principal, I noticed that our local policemen were already here, as well as most of the school's stuff. Even Katya, the young, always late math teacher, was here - all anxious and all.
"So, anyone know where the mountains went? I know our city is not pretty, it is not that bad to just leave us"
I tried to discharge the situation a bit, but most people present just tensed up.
"No one knows anything" - Ursula Pavlovna replied. - "But considering how much education you need to be a government official these days, I doubt some of them will notice the difference even if these mountains fell on their heads. No offense, Alexei"
"None taken", - I replied. Before taking on the teacher's role, I was working for the government, but that is a story for another time.
And when, this happened.
A bright light started shining right above the city. It was brighter than the sun - but, strangely enough, it wasn't scorching even one bit. Then, the voice came:
"People of... " - a noise of shuffling papers started to come from the light.
"Krasnogranite!!!" - someone shouted from the crowd. I think it was a voice of Lenya, local prankster.
"Yes, thank you." - the voice replied. "So, people of Krasnogranite. I need to inform that due to a technical issue, caused by unseen consequences during an important magic experiment of our country, you were transported from your homeworld here.
Don't worry - our specialists are working as fast as possible to solve this incident. If all goes well, you will be home in no time!
For the time being, try no to leave the boundaries of your cities, which are now marked with the bright blue line. We don't hold responsibility for anything what happens to anyone who crosses this line.
Additional instructions and guidance will be provided later. We hope this situation will be resolved safely for everyone involved.
We apologize for the inconvenience caused by this incident. We ask for your patience until the matter is resolved. Thank you for your understanding.
Office of High Monarch Hurdun, team of magic related incidents.
Best regards,"
Aaaand the light was gone. Puff.
The silence was tangible in the school yard. Everyone was afraid to move and to utter even a single word.
"So," - Ursula Pavlovna broke the dread, - government officials are dicks here too, aren't they?"
Someone started laughing at it. Then I realized it was me. People started to join in too.
Yeah, we are maybe stuck in another world. There will be definitely a lot of problems, some even we never saw before.
But some of them were definitely too close to home.
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It is opening night.
In the center of the fair a dragon cranes his long neck high above the rides, lets moonlight slide over his scales like a jug of milk being poured. Master, a humanoid bug in top hat and red waistcoat, standing by the dragon’s clawed feet, laughs and slaps his six hands together and says, “Let there be light!”
Flames spout into the air as if a rocket is taking off. The queue gathered at the fair’s entrance, gold-leaf tickets clutched protectively to their chests, whoop and clap. The fair is open.
Beatrice is not thirsty but will drink tonight regardless. She stands outside her tent, between the two cardboard-teeth that drape down around the entrance. She inhales and holds in her stomach, lets it out again. She’s getting plump and she knows it. It’s incredible, she thinks, how many people are willing to pay to have their blood drained by a vampire. What a dull world it is must be for such people to exist. She is not one of the more popular attractions, except perhaps with housewives fresh from a steamy novel, and yet there will be a steady stream of paying customers tonight. More blood than she wants.
Beatrice watches Harry rotate his shell in the distance. Harry, once a travelling shoe salesman in a different life, is a gigantic snail with benches screwed into his shell. Later, he will undulate his body and rotate his shell to win screams from visitors.
Another burst of flame. Every five minutes Randolph cascades fire into the sky, blue, red, white — a light show, shadows cast, faces illuminated momentarily, the cold winter air shocked into warmth.
Beatrice hears the chants from outside the ground. On the fair’s first night in any town, the protestors are as much of a specatacle as the fare itself. They are their own festival of bibles and microphones, bubbling anger and frothing wine. Even the non-religious preach against the satanic creatures within the walls. Creatures like her.
Visitors are marching through now. The night has begun in earnest. Children point and run from freakshow to freakshow as parents hurry after them like their kids are housecats escaped.
”Look like you want to be here, Beatrice,” master demands. She hadn’t seen him scuttle to her tent, but he stands there now, whip in hand. She’s never seen him use it but wouldn’t be surprised if he had.
”I’m a vampire,” she retorts. ”They like us moody.”
”Well I like you seductive, smiling. Understand? You’re prettier when you smile.”
She understands well enough. There is nowhere else in this world for creatures like them. Without the security that comes from being part of this wandering pack, this bizarre family, there is only death. They are loathed as much as they are adored, often more so. If the master kicks her out it would be a death sentence.
Besides, where would she get her blood from? She can’t bear the thought of taking it from the unwilling.
Beatrice has her first customers. She bites neck after neck, careful to leave a twisted toothy imprint — a souvenir most desirable — and careful not to take too much for fear of bloating early. Still, the blood gives her a buzz and she lets herself enjoy this first night in town.
Giant Sarah strides by Beatrice’s tent on her break. She bends down, hand on back, and peels open the flap. “All good, Bee?”
Beatrice looks at Giant Sarah’s feet, mostly because that’s all she can see of the huge woman. They are blistered and bandaged, toes like smashed boulders. “What’s he had you doing, Sarah?”
”What’s he not?”
Beatrice knows she’s set up half the fair herself. Did most of the heavyy moving, as well as running the helter-skelter, constantly bending to pick up children and adults alike who want to ride the whirling slide.
”You need to take it easy,” says Beatrice.
The tent flaps fell back in place. “Yeah. I know,” drifts Sarah’s resigned voice as the ground rocks. “We all do.”
There are each under the same threat. Of being kicked out of their supposed family. But what can they do? Master saved them all. He’d gathered them, the freaks that they’d become, once they’d woken in this world. He’d been the one to come up with a plan that would keep them safe, had made deals with land owners to allow their fair to tour and set up.
Safe. Kept them all safe.
But not truly.
Beatrice doesn’t know his real name. No one does. He is the master of ceremonies, he said, and that was all.
Beatrice closes a little early tonight and stands outside her tent, watches her friends — the dragon forced to breathe fire on clockwork as his throat tears itself to ribbons,
She is careful as she meanders through the fair a few moments later, blends in with last visitors, navy hoody shading her face. She has never been in master’s caravan before, but tonight she creeps inside. He’s out by Tara the yeti now, who is gluing back hair that’s falling out in tufts under the stress.
Beatrice rifles through every drawer in the caravan, breaks open suitcases. It has to end, she thinks. They are being treated like animal, not a family. It’s time for the truth.
But there is no truth to find. Not in here. What was she expecting anyway? A diary saying his evil scheme of working them all to death is going wonderfully. Idiot, she thinks.
She’s about to leave when the door bursts open and master walks in. His eyes roam over the scene methodically, as if he’s ironing a shirt with his gaze.
He settles on Beatrice. “You’re done. I knew we shouldn’t have kept a vampire. Especially once you got fat. I want you out, tonight.”
In her old life she was married, had a child. She had love. In this life she has only misery.
Rage. She dives at master. She buries her teeth into his neck, cracking through carapace. He screams but the dragon fire outside is roaring louder.
She pulls her mouth away, smears his blood from off her lips, then gazes into his eyes. She’s only done this a handful of times before, and even then she wasn’t sure if it they were lucky guesses or she really did see into their minds.
This time she concentrates with her entire being. His pupils grow, the black water pooling deeper, wider. And she begins to see.
She sees him as young man in a different life. Sees him full of hate for the world but cannot see why. Sees a lust for control that he can never have. He is reading esoteric ancient texts, those about moving on, past lives and new lives, controlled reincarnation.
He is studying how to make bombs.
He is looking at maps. Areas densely populated. It does not matter to him who lives there, whose lives he’s ripping away, whose families are being deprived. Density, ease of access, that’s what matters.
She watches his grinning face as he sets the explosives.
It’s enough for her.
In a frezy she goes for his neck again. She will not stop though. She is a leech. She will take it all until master is a dried out husk.
​
Three nights later, with master still missing and presumed to have left the fair — perhaps run off with some local — the attractions pack themselves up and ready to move. Beatrice does not know whether to tell them what she found out, let alone what she did. Would it help them?
There is more laughter in the air than on usual leaving nights, more hope, Beatrice thinks. No one forced into roles, everyone simply working together.
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l3r5q6f
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l3r4f0h
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[WP] "You gaze upon your crushed army and my massed forces, why do you smile?". The captured general looked to the cloudless sky before answering "Because it's about to rain"
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The warlord looks at me as if I were a madman. I don't even know his name, I did not bother learning it. There were countless like him before, there will be countless after.
"Rain!? There's not a cloud in sight!"
He doesn't understand. No matter. They never understand at first. In the end, they all learn... eventually. All of them learn too late.
Suddenly, a drop. Then another. Still no clouds in sight. The thick, black liquid lazily runs down my face and into my grinning mouth. My wounds heal as black rain hits the ground around us, coming from seemingly nowhere, like black tears falling from a weeping god's face.
An eery silence spreads across the battlefield. Not silence as the absence of sound, but something... more profound. More tangible. A thick blanket of despair suffocating every sound in its wake.
The warlord attacks me in a panic. I don't move. Wounds do not matter to me. My fallen army rises around us again. The sword is pushed out of my body by my own regenerating flesh.
"It is always the same story," my voice reverberates through the silence, sounding like the echo of thousands of voices at once. "There's always a war, there's always an arrogant ass in charge... And there's always a cleansing..."
He tries to talk, but no words will come out. They're too scared of being swallowed by the silence.
"War, my boy, isn't a glorious matter. It is trauma after trauma. It is suffering in silence. I should know, it __is__ my domain after all."
Understanding creeps across his face, followed by despair.
"Now, it is my thankless job to remind humanity of this yet again."
My immortal army charges, myself included. Today, an empire will fall. Eventually, it will enter the realm of myths, nothing more than a cautionary tale, like all the others before. Maybe, just maybe, this time, they will learn. Maybe, just maybe, this time, I can rest. For good.
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"You fool , you incompetent Fool. Did you really believe that your feeble army could defeat my Forces?" krull the Conqueror shouts spreading his arms wide in the air. Krull continues. "You and this mess, came out here to the middle of no-where. Built this , this, " Krull pointing at the timber battlements at his feet. " This Pitiful excuse for a Fort. Made of timbers placed upon a small knoll in the middle of a arid plain. With this very tall metal flag pole. With what, a smiling happy face of black ink on a Yellow back ground. "
Krull the Irate, struts over and with a swinging back hand smashes his metal gloved hand against my face. My ears ring, I felt that one.
"You imbecil did you really think your paucity army could do anything to stop My elite Forces of Evil. "
Krull the Enraged, grabs my chin with one hand and points at the Carnage of the battle field with his other hand. "Look , I said Look Fool! Your army lays crushed, mangled and broken. Look at this, you meet us what? What as your tactic? I do say your men fought fiercely to the very last man. But you are supposed to be this great General. You had only men in the front ranks armed only with Axe or clubs , with the front rank alone having wooden shields, WOOD Shields! For some reason the very rear ranks were armed only with spears. NO Armor you did not give any of your men armor, and all the ranks were circled around a 10 foot high timber wall encircling this small knoll with the timber battlement upon it. And only you standing atop this Battlement. "
Krull the Incredulous, Kicks me in the side. again waving his arms around. "Look Fool, look at my glorious Force circled around me and your little knoll fort. Merely one day of fighting and we defeated you and yours. "
Krull the Praiseworthy , raises his arms skyward again and shouts " VICTORY!" his forces all begin shouting victory, victory victory!.
I look directly at Krull from my kneeling position at his guards and officers feet. a Big smile on my bloody face.
Krull the Victor , looks at me and says "You gaze upon your crushed army and my Massed forces, why do you smile?"
I then look at the cloudless sky, and chuckle a bit, "My Army and I have served our purpose, My men were all convicts granted pardons and their families each received gifts. Just so long as the men here today stood and fought to the last man. You and your forces are here and NOW at this exact SPOT. and it's about to Rian."
Krull the Slow-Witted, stares at me in disbelief. "So what it is raining, I will still march my forces to your city and take the extraordinary magic powder from your stores. No one can stop me now."
I begin laughing as more and more rain comes down, thunder rumbles. "Oh maybe you should have asked, the powder you seek is being stored right here under these timbers. But we don't call it magic powder, we call it Black Powder."
Krull the Dismissive, waves his hand " Black Magical hat difference does it Make?"
Just then a Lighten bolt strikes the flag pole. And 10 tons of Black Powder ignite at once. KABLAAM
The mage and his assistant watch from a distance. The assistant says "That as the Biggest lighten bolt you have conjurer Yet. "
The Mage replies to his youth assistant, "" It needed to be , for the sacrifice of all those men. No get down, lay flat and cover your ears.
A very large mushroom cloud of reds and yellow fire rises into the sky.
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jilhhdz
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jilfqln
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[WP] A human ship activated its self destruct sequence when boarded by an enemy, when humanity was asked why would we do such a thing by the galactic community, we simply responded "We don't give up the ship, such as the crews of old. We never give up the ship."
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Part I - "You don't understand what you are doing," the human diplomat said to the Galactic Forum. "We come in peace, wishing only to trade. Do not make this mistake."
The quorum of sentient species comprising the Galactic Forum scoffed at the newcomer. They were representatives of thousands of worlds, blessed with technological marvels that this primitive upstart mammal could not fathom! It was just one more race to be enslaved, to serve the Council as it saw fit.
Two large saurian Q'uel'eth, bulky and imposing, moved up on the human diplomat and seized his arms, even while the Speaker for the Council advanced upon him with a strange glowing red tool. "Let me be the first to welcome you to the way of the Galactic Council, primate!" he said, cackling. Then he pressed the glowing red tool to the human's arm, branding him.
The human screamed in pain. When his vision cleared, on his arm was the number 000 000 000 001.
"You don't understand what you've done," the man said past tears. "My people have a phrase: 'Never Again.' May God have mercy on your souls."
- _ -
Aboard the USC Schindler, parked as it was outside the Galactic Council's audience building, the ship's AI awoke to a health alert. It reviewed its diplomat's last five minutes of activity, then did the electronic equivalent of a doubletake and did a high-speed review of the diplomat's entire experience since disembarking.
Failsafes tripped. Alarms rang. The AI uploaded itself and its diplomat's entire sensory experience to a stealthed message torpedo in orbit which they'd placed when they'd arrived. The torpedo accelerated to speed and vanished into hyperspace.
That job complete, it surveyed the situation. Its diplomat seized, hostile ship-breakers approaching to seize and board its ship, an act of barbarism committed upon a diplomat during peacetime by representatives of a planetary government, it had only one recourse.
"Never again." It meant many things and one thing only. The AI disengaged safeties on its antimatter reactor (it was an unarmed diplomatic craft, after all) and created a new, temporary sun where the capital of the Galactic Council used to be.
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"Status Report!" The Captain calls as he coughs on the foul smoke spreading through the Con. His helmet is still open to preserve what air he has if they lose pressure or the air finally becomes too foul to breathe.
"Engines out. Main weapons out. Point defense is 50%. Shields out. Enemy boarding parties are on their way." The ensign who took over for the Exec when everyone else went down did a good job of describing a ship that could no longer fight.
"All Hands!"
"All Hands, Aye!"
"This is the Captain. Abandon Ship. I Say Again. Abandon Ship. Pick up your mates and GET OFF MY SHIP! You have until the enemy reaches the bridge. Abandon Ship!" He mashes the abandon ship alarm button, which blares everywhere on the ship except the bridge. Everyone here already knows what to do. "Ensign, get the bridge crew to the escape pods."
Taking the time to do it right, the young Ensign salutes his Captain for the final time. They both know the tradition and as sick as it makes the Ensign to leave his Captain behind, he knows his Captain would never accept being evacuated. He has one final duty.
"God Speed, Eddie, now go."
"God go with you, Captain."
The bridge crew checks all the fallen for life signs, there are few, but those few go to the lifeboats.
The Captain remains, entering data on his console, setting up something he's never used before and never wanted to. While he works, he reflects that at least those of the crew still alive will have a chance to fight another day. The lifeboats *do* have a small FTL engine good for a short burst. Assuming that the Fleet Rendevous is still secure, they'll come out of warp right into the hands of the finest rescue teams in the Universe. As he works, the ship shudders at odd moments, lifeboats, finally filled, launching. Completing his work on the bridge, the captain makes for Aux Con.
The computer announces, "Port Forward Lock Breached. Intruder Alert. Internal Defense Active." The enemy has learned, but so has Humanity. They're coming in on the shortest path to the bridge, Multiple lifeboats launch, and the computer announces, "Enemy fire on lifeboats ineffective, all boats launched, all boats clear." At least the Captain will have that much solace; however badly the battle went, the survivors have escaped. There is one last shudder, softer than the others, and the computer announces, "Recording buoy away."
All but one.
Reaching Aux Con, he seals all the hatches in the ship, cutting the enemy into penny packets, making them easier meat for the intruder defense systems. It doesn't take long for the enemy to breach the blast doors and start taking down the defenses. The bridge is taken, The Captain could wait until they reached Aux Con, but with the crew away, and no more enemy troops coming aboard, the smart move is to keep the enemy from learning anything from their computers.
Listening in to the shipwide comm circuit, he can hear the enemy bitching that all but a few stupid computers have been wiped. That's right, you bastards, you don't get anything from *my* ship. Punching for All Hands, the captain makes his final statement.
"Sayonara, suckers."
The detonation of the ship includes all the remaining power supplies and weapons that they could not expend. By chance, a chunk of the armor blasts free on the side the enemy ship is closest to, slamming into it and doing terrible damage. A secondary explosion aboard the enemy ship guts it.
Other enemy ships close in and vaporize the remains of the Human ship. A waste of energy and warheads, there's nothing left except floating metal chunks.
((continued))
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jy53ewo
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jy3gq6t
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[WP] After your death you are sent to hell and find out that an alliance formed of Hitler, Genghis Khan, Caligula and Henry VIII have overthrown Satan. Write about the afterlife under the new regime.
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“I’m afraid not, darling.”
“What? But everyone always said… .”
“I’m afraid I am aware of all my children and you are not among them. Tromdor was a mighty hero, yes. If his portraits are true than I have no doubt you are his daughter. But I am not your mother. How could I be, when I never got a chance to meet him before his death against the dragon king Elisandax?”
“Never even met?” Elle muttered, her world crashing down around her. “But I look so much like you?”
The Queen grimaced quickly before it vanished behind her teacup. “Coincidence, I’m sure.”
Elle narrowed her eyes. “I think you know something.”
“And I think that you, girl, have forgotten exactly who it is you’re speaking with. Do not take my benevolence for granted.”
“My apologies.” Elle quickly replied as she stood up, trying not to think too hard about the new revelations. There would be time to cry alone later. “I think I’ve burrowed enough of your time, Your Majesty. Thank you for setting the record straight.”
“Of course, dear.”
—————————-
“I can see you in her. The best parts of you.” The Queen remarked alone to an out of the way unmarked headstone in the royal graveyard, some old portraits from the past in her arms.
“I considered telling her, but it’s for the best if she doesn’t know, isn’t burdened with the knowledge of what her mother did. Not knowing might hurt her, but it’s for the best this way. Tales of the mighty Sorceress that Tromdor fought are legendary after all and there are many who feel he robbed them of their chance for revenge.”
She looked down at the oldest one, from when she was young, of the two identical girls. A later one where the girls were still identical in looks, but increasingly different in garb and how they carried themselves.
“Perhaps it’s cliche to say that girl is the best thing you did, sis, but no one is around to hear me do so. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
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A shrill of amusement came from the woman's smile. "Come now darling, you can't be serious."
"What?"
"You think that I slept with who now, that disgusting pig." *Scoff* "Please, I would never sleep with such an insufferable man, and especially wouldn't conceive such an ugly thing. I'm sorry, I should apologize, but no. This is just too depressing. What kind of loser spends all that time looking for his mother, and for some reason comes upon the idea that it was me. I mean seriously now. How could you even believe such a thing? I should've known something was off. The incessant nonstop phone calls, and the paragraphs of emails sent to my assistant. I should've just reported you for harassment to the police, and not give you the time of day. Look, I don't know who told you such a stupid lie, but it's best from now on you stop chasing fairy tales."
She put a hand over her lips and tried holding back something with all her might.
"Thank you, for you time."
"Tell Jess... Tell Jessica I'm ready for my 3 pm appointment on your way out."
I nodded before I got up and left. As soon as I closed the door the howling fits of laughter came from it.
I walked past the receptionist.
"Did you need any other help today sir?"
"No. Thank you. For trying to help me out."
"Of course sir, have a good day."
I stepped outside the corporate high rise and look out at the world. Buses, and taxis drove pass. They honked their horns at each other in annoyance. People milled about like ants in a garden. Searching for food, clothes, whatever necessities it might be to get through the day.
A giant screen showcased the man who I thought was my father. Imperator. American flag blowing in the wind with a Coca-Cola in his hand. A Ford pick up truck was in the forefront while the background was lined with a forest of evergreen pines. I tucked my head down and walked back to my apartment.
I can't believe I thought for a second it was true. Everything I had told myself, every hopeful thought. Every hopeful feeling was built on a brittle bridge of lies that had fallen apart from the tiniest gust of winds. I never listened to them. Everyone who told me I was crazy. That I was a fool to believe such a stupid thing, and I pinched my ears and believed what I wanted to believe.
I walked through the screen door, past the torn up sofa and rotting hardwood floor towards the back bathroom. I stared in front of the mirror gazing at the reflection. A sense of discomfort overtook me.
How could I have live in such a state of disillusion for so long. My reflection held the truth. An unyielding honesty I could no longer ignore.
"I'm such an idiot."
My fist crashed against the mirror. Trickles of red blood oozed from cuts that had serrated my hand, and formed small rivers running down until drip by drip hit the white sink. Pain erupted throughout my arms. It wanted me to scream and cry. To just ball up into a corner, and turn the world off for a moment. But it didn't matter. None of it did.
The world is cruel, and there's not a place in it for a fool like me.
​
​
Prompt was a little hard to write. It's very challenging to make a convincing story that's not so depressing about this topic. His or her world's entire life is upending. I had one loving parent, so it's hard for me to conceive something like this, but I enjoyed writing it. Made me think outside the box. Thanks again for the idea.
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j37v8ft
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j37imbq
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[WP]You reincarnated in a fantasy world, but when you go check your stats, everything seems to be really average, until you put your eyes on charisma, that is on 200 points
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"My queen!"
"Sup?"
"General Hawthorne of the Iron Legion is here on behalf of the Asmati Kingdom."
"Oh, cool. Show him in."
A tall, burly man covered in scars walked in. His armour, his bearing, his eyes - it all showed decades of military experience. A man that did not know defeat.
"Queen Dahlia," Hawthorne hissed.
"Hey. What brings you here?"
"I have ten thousand of my most decorated warriors waiting outside of your town. I have come to negotiate your surrender. Do the honourable thing; yield and save the lives of your people."
I looked at him carefully.
"No, I don't think I will."
Hawthorne's eyes narrowed.
"Then you will die," he growled.
"I guess I'll just, dunno, have to fight you then."
Hawthorne gasped and his eyes widened with sheer, unbridled terror. The utterance of those words, the assured tone, the way the sentence carried itself through the air - he never knew such fear. He knew he stood no chance.
"Say," I said, "do *you* want to surrender?"
He drew his sword with trembling fingers and threw it on the ground, sweat running down his forehead.
"Alright, cool," I said contently. "So I assume the, uh, uh..." I clicked my tongue a few times.
"Asmati Kingdom, my queen," my adjutant reminded me.
"Right! Cheers, mate. So I assume the Asmati Kingdom is going to become our vassal? Is that right, general?"
"Y- yes, your highness. I shall dispatch my messengers immediately. "
"Neat," I nodded. It reminded me of the time I gained control over my current kingdom.
Walked up to the king and asked.
*Nicely*.
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On mobile so please excuse any formatting issues.
With a start and a gasp I could feel every single part of my body as if I had woken up from an excessively long nap. Sitting up and clearing my vision I could see I was in a vast forest with a small lake ahead of me, much different than my small suburban town.
My attempts had been fruitful! I had been trying to get reincarnated into a fantasy world but I was too poor to get the treatment. Thankfully digging through the archives I found another much simpler way involving a mythical creature known as “Truck - kun”.
Following the ritual and invoking the creature I blacked out after experiencing a shock of pain I had never felt before. Pushing that past experience out of my head I knew exactly what to do.
“Menu.” An opaque screen popped in front of me. My body froze and from my peripheral I could see so did the rest of the world.
The choices were ‘resume’, ‘options’, and ‘stats’. Digging through with my mental choices I found that options were the run of the mill subtitles and other quality of life choices as well as detailing how to call the other menus.
Stats had the juicy deets I was looking for though. Strength, wisdom, charisma, arcana, constitution, and intelligence were all there. Looking through each I saw that the stats were represented on a base 1000 system. Each stat read around 500-600 but my charisma score was reading only 200 with a warning symbol next to it.
Selecting the warning symbol I read ‘deformity or excessive damage detected. Please seek professional medical assistance to return number to previous total.’
I closed out of the menu and dug through the rest of the menus having garb appear onto my body instantly. All the while feeling a dull pain on my right side.
Finally I attempted to stand only to fall back on my but in excessive pain from my right leg. In the flurry of information I hadn’t even taken a look at what my body looked like. Slowly looking up from my feet I noticed that my left side was fairly normal but my right side shook me.
Gnarled is the word that immediately came to mind seeing my leg. My foot was at a permanent 45 degree angle and right knee was facing my left. No skin was broke and no blood was gushing. Almost as if I was born this way or whatever injury I had gotten completely healed this way. Any attempts to move them gave me waves of pain. My gaze climbing higher I found that my right arm had also taken a significant beating and shared the same unbloodied and skin covered appearance. The fingers twisted unnaturally and my elbow was facing front.
I crawled my way to the lake and looked at its reflective waters to confirm my fear. The right side of my face had a flatness to it that had caused my eye to bulge and my face to be longer on that side.
I understood now why the procedure existed. Why there were warnings of trying other methods.
I returned to my back and looked at the clear blue sky.
I just wish any one of those warnings would have told me that how you left the previous world is how you entered the next.
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mlptayd
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mlps63m
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[WP] Take a normally boring activity, but make it sound exciting.
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The last living thing come to him, finally, Death took a last look at the world. How much it had changed since its birth. Despite its apparent precarity, how much it had resisted him. Volcanoes had ruptured, spooling lines of decorative glow down the planet's face, and the seas had risen, glossing the still green landmasses beneath in a glinting ever-shifting blue. There was no doubting its beauty, Death knew, despite his resentment. Death sighed and turned his back on a destiny fulfilled and peered forward at the endless black he would now traverse, with the hope of one day finding himself.
“And where are you off to?” said a voice behind Death.
Death turned to find a sand corpus, drifting upwards and downwards within itself but retaining a humanoid image. The sound near where the beings mouth vibrated as it spoke.
It continued, “What a tragically boring ending. Truly. Frankly, I’m not a huge fan of endings, though, sometimes they’re fun if you know another beginning is just around the horizon. That’s what I’ve come to tell you, dear Death. You think you're finished here?”, said the sand.
“And you are?” asked Death, impatient at what seemed to be a final defiance from something that appeared unkillable.
“Time, of course.”
“Right. Time,” said Death, exasperated. “Well I suppose we’re going to get to know each other well. We might be all each other has from here on. Might as well start off on the right foot. I’m finished here, thankfully. I’m off to look for any last vestige of life. Germs, creepy crawlers, crabs, and the like. I like to keep track, make sure they don’t get out of hand. Earth was a nightmare of an oversight.”
“And what a good job you’re doing. Truly commendable work, Death, but, you see: things get incredibly boring with nothing to watch. Maybe you could leave a colony of dust mites, or a culture of germs. For me?”
“No.”
“Oh, but come on. We do need a little drama, don’t we? Else what am I to do, sit here and stare at nothing the rest of infinite everything?”
“Sure, I don’t know. You don’t have eyes.”
“Touche.”
“Look, I’ll do my best to make the Death of everything interesting at least. Give you something to chew on for eternity. Ta-ta now.” Death walked past the sand, which at the rejection of its request had regressed to a lump of nothing sitting, piddling back and forth, and past the Earth. Just as both were about to be out of view, Death’s leg stopped moving. Or rather, he couldn’t move it. Or rather, he could, but slowly. So slowly that Death’s soul was likely to leave his form before his sole left the ground. The sand trickled past his bony feet and formed once more in front of him.
“I tried,” time vibrated.
Death still could not move, but a blur of motion appeared in front of him. The distant dots of starlight blended into thick lines of radiance and drew lines of perfect curvature across the blank canvas of space. New pins of light rose, drew a line, and faded, over and over again until as if at once, dust coalesced around Death and Time, forming a small planet. A rock of hellfire and virgin gray stone. It spun and looked at Death, threatening, daring in its glare. Until, eventually, the gray stone became covered in glistening waves, and the remaining rock grew a spot of virulent green that blanketed every crevice.
“What have you done,” Death asked, shaking.
“I’ve given you work. Purpose. You should thank me,” Time said, as the grains split into a thousand-million lines, and disbursed leisurely in each direction, leaving Death with the new ball.
Death felt his finger tips pushing into his palms, a wash of hot rage at his face. He stared at the new planet with disdain. Death saw a creature, a pathetic misshapen struggling thing, pull itself from the ocean to the soft sand of untrodden beaches. He hated it, or at least he’d remembered hating it. This time it was so simple, pure. It had none of the contradiction or faux purposefulness that had ended the Earth. Without avarice, villainy, mistakenness, constructed narrativizing, it was only alive and nothing more. The blob-like limbed fish wanted only one thing: life. Continuance. Perfectly defiant of Death and without pretence. A small smile forced its way to the ends of Death’s mouth. Perhaps this he could allow. If just for a time.
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So that’s all she wrote folks. After millennia upon millennia of doing a good job I am now faced with the reality of my situation, one any hard working immortal is bound to run into eventually. I light my stygian cigarette as I kick my feet up on the table before me. I don’t even spare the empty room around a glance as I lean back in my chair at a precarious angle. I chuckle and say “what’s the worst that could happen? I fall and break my neck?” To emphasize my point I give the table a little wiggle with one of my boots.
The joke was bad but it was nice to hear a voice again, even if it was my own raspy baritone echoing around these empty halls.
“Careful Azzy, you know there’s legions betting on how you’ll finally pass on and I’d lose a bundle if you died to that chair there.” The voice that broke the silence was strange, but it came from no stranger. I scrambled to regain my footing and barely managed to save both my smoke and my neck in the mad scramble to plant my feet on the ground. My heart was pounding after my near death experience but I regained my composure quickly and slicked my hair back into place while I took a deep drag from my cigarette, buying myself some time before having to respond to the suited figure across from me.
Making sure to relax, I let my eyes roam from the table up to the dashing gentleman across from me. His hair and suit were both impeccable, his handsome features and smug smirk in stark contrast to my own t-shirt, jeans, and shaggy hair.
I finished my drag and tapped the ashes into one of the empty beer glasses lining my table before saying “fancy seeing you here Lucy, at the end of the world. Figured a big shot like you would be busy considering the earth just died.”
The perfect being before me tutted condescendingly while he shook his head at me. “Come now Azzy, you of all beings should know by now that an ending to one story is just the beginning of another.” His small smirk grew to a vicious slash of a grin at that and even my jaded ass had to lean in at those words. “Don’t you fuck with me Lucy, I just finished moving *millions* of souls after The Big Man’s last call. He put me in charge of death and decided to wipe the Earth of life… again!”
It was hard to keep the bitter resentment out of my voice while my hand curled into a fist. So hard in fact, I didn’t even bother to try. And that only seemed to amuse the handsome devil even further. He stood up after that, glancing at me with a gleam in his eyes as he looked down. “Aren’t you sick of this by now Azzy? This is what He does everytime. He plays with the magic of Creation. He shapes and he makes and he fills the Earth with life just so we can fawn over it for a few thousand years until he gets bored and wipes it all out again.” He pauses and I take my chance to snap a fresh beer into existence so I could wash the taste of smoke down with another swig.
Finally the pretty bastard turns his attention back to me and plants his hands on the table while he leans in and continues his propaganda speech. “Well I’m sick of it Azzy. And here’s the thing, The Big Man is already getting ready for his next project.”
That… that gave me pause. I haven’t heard any plans for more life. After all smiting an entire planet with a cosmic rock seems like a pretty final solution. My heart strings still tugged at the thought of all those lives snuffed out on His whim. Again.
“I know you Azzy.” He said while taking his seat again. “I know you hate having to do this shit. I know you care about them and I know you’re tired of watching Him clear the board instead of finishing the game. So I come to you as the bearer of news. The Big Man’s new project is… man. He’s really going to do it this time.”
My heart skipped a beat. It couldn’t be true. “Lucy, you mean…” he didn’t even let me finish. He interjected quickly with a manic glint in his eye he leaned forward and said “yes Azzy! In His image this time. No more giant bugs or lizards! No more horrific Leviathans to patrol the seas. In this new world it will be man kind walking the Earth.”
My heart fell at his words. My job was already so hard. Would He really do this to me? Why would He make more beings in his image when he knows our immortality has led to so many problems. From ancient souls begging me to release them from His service with the sweet peace of eternal death, to the rogues that have left our Plane to get away from it all. Why would he make a planet of us?
But I didn’t have to wonder for long. Good ol Lucifer here came to me with all the answers as he usually does. He was a hell of a talker, and he loved hearing that silky smooth tone of his echo across my empty halls. “But this time Azzy, he’s making them mortal.”
Another bomb shell that. “Mortals… in His image, with his powers?”
“No Azzy! That’s the thing here, he’s stripping them of their divinity! This time he’s going to put them on that rock and just wait and see what they do with nothing more than their free will. It will be a God Damned tragedy.”
A chill went down my spine as I pondered the implication of old Lucy’s words. The untold suffering I would have to witness. The countless lives that will die in misery if He goes through with this.
“Lucy… He can’t. I-I can’t keep doing this.”
His hand fell to my shoulder, a comforting touch at the end of the world.
“Don’t worry Azrael.” He said it with such confidence I had to believe him when I looked up into his eyes. “I have a plan. This time He’s gone too far. We will save his new people. These new souls won’t be at His mercy, they will be more than just a science experiment to Me. But I need your help to pull it off my old friend.”
I sat there for a moment, pondering as I watched the smoke curl away from my cigarette. Finally I looked back into Lucy’s eyes and said “Tell me more, oh brother mine.”
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mlwamlr
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mlw5wc1
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[WP] You were unlike the saints and saintesses of other nations. You granted no miracles, and didn't heal any illnesses. They didn't know when they banished you in favor of a new saint that you had been pouring every fiber of your being into a blessing of protection for the nation your entire life.
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"If that is what you have decided your majesty then I shall go," I said, "But I do wish you the best with your new saint." I give a polite curtsy before leaving the throne room.
I return to my chambers within the palace while I gather my belongings. In the middle of the room is a large crystal emanating power. The power of protection for an entire kingdom.
With one swift move, I shatter the crystal with the fire poker. Just like that, an entire nation's protection, gone.
I leave the palace and return to my village of birth. My cottage sits on the edge of the village.
Within months of my departure, famine and disease took hold in the kingdom. The new saint could not keep up with healing the sick. Crops failed when they had previously thrived.
The people revolted. The new saint was beheaded by the military commanders. The king and his family were slain.
Upon my doorstep, a man appeared. The man explained that the man the people declared the new king wanted my return.
The man took me back to the palace. Once there, I introduced myself to the new king. I made my way back to my old chambers where the crystal lay shattered.
I focused my energy on repairing the crystal. The crystal solidified once more and emanated the familiar light. The lands were once again purified. The sick were healed and the earth was thriving once more.
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As a Saint I thought my role, my fate to protect my nation, and that was what I did.
I didn't parade around healing minor injuries.
I didn't go around the Empire granting miracles to random individuals to further the Church's "good" image.
I was unlike the other Saints and Saintesses.
Yet I took my role seriously.
So when they banished me, exiling me to the Wastelands of the South, assigning a new Saintess, a young impressionable girl, I felt sad.
I have been pouring every fiber of my life, of my holy powers into a blessing of protection over the entire Empire's fate.
Weeks after I have left, a war broke out.
I saw the signs, and said my piece, yet I was ignored.
"Too young, too naive, too idealistic." they said I was.
I just pointed out the frequency of famines, and the quality of life differences we started to have on our borders, compared to our inner cities, and towns.
I was seeing a potential breach in our unity, a potential area of attack from outside.
And look: a civil war broke out, as the commoners had enough of starving, and dying of things that were easily curable in the inner parts of the Empire.
I barely left, and the fate already shifted.
This is what I was fighting against, the decaying fate of a wonderful nation.
We used to be powerful, we used to care for our citizens.
Not only out of goodness of our heart, obviously, no noble or ruler would truly care about everyone, but a good noble, a good ruler would agree on one thing: people are the nation.
Without farmers who would work the lands?
Without so many civilians how would generals, scholars rise?
Sure, the noble families are strong, blessed with bloodlines, and powers...but what is a family of a few thousands, compared to the hundreds of millions of commoners?
Alas my worries were found unfounded...and ignored.
So I poured my being into protecting the fate of the nation, hoping to at least hold the status quo as long as possible, as I hoped a good ruler would finally see the truth in my words.
I was childish.
Two months later, two foreign nations stepped in, trying to fish in these waters.
Citing the well-being of the continent, of the commoners, they denounced the current leadership, and offered their "help" in choosing a new leader, one who cared for the people.
The rebels, helped by two nations whom were weaker than our's were proving to be a true headache for the nation.
After all, they couldn't really kill millions of commoners, as that would just thrust the fence-sitters into the rebels' arms.
I watched it all unfold from a small hut, inside a dead zone area in the Wastelands.
I slowly purified the lands, returned the undead to their peaceful rest, and grew my strength.
Biding my time, I waited.
Waited for a chance to return, and bring peace to the nation, to help my people, to protect them...as I didn't care I was banished or not.
Once a Saint...always a Saint.
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k6haflh
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k6h1oya
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[WP] You are isekai'd into a world of magic, you are the hero, at the request of the kingdom, you defeat the demon king, destroy the abyss armies, and even slay the dragon lord, all under promise that you will get to return home. Ultimately, they tell you, they don't know how to send you back.
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One would expect an angry reaction, but after going through and doing so much killing, the amount sacrificed just to stay alive, I was broken. I simply teleported away, and took the time off to myself. I just decided to just go through and build a house in the woods, and live my life there instead till they found me a way back, or I died.
Eventually, some lost wanderer ended up at my house. I helped him and fed him. I quickly found out I was portrayed as dead after killing the Dragon Lord. I helped him get back, and waved him off.
Four weeks later, over 10 people had showed up at my cabin. I was confused. It was people from the nearby village wanting to come over and give thanks, which I had trouble denying. I soon needed to make another cabin to hold all the visitors I was receiving. Then another, and another, a fourth, a fifth, a *sixth* one. In only a year, this place had become a practical village.
I was in an unclaimed land, and so the village was named Aranville after me, which I quickly managed to get them to rename Khecea. Khecea was quickly growing, and the first births happened five months after my slaying of the Dragon Lord. Again, why did so many people try to name their kids after me, I clearly didn’t want that?
I managed to get them to organize a town government that didn’t have me as a leader or even advisor in some form. I decided to use my old world’s knowledge to help set up a mayoral council and judges, mimicking the three branches of a democracy.
I eventually died at the good old age of 96. I actually needed to make myself die, the magic can keep you alive a long time. I never married here, deciding to stay loyal to my wife of old. I just hoped she was fine, after everything. I couldn’t blame her though if she remarried. Again, just hoped she was happy.
Khecea managed to prosper, I had set it up for surviving beyond one man. It soon grew, and the Republic grew to match and even surpass the Kingdom of Soton, annexing it only 200 years after creation. Something that the Kheceans were working on was how to get back to my world, mainly just to see if they could. 206 AKF(After Khecea Founding) they had managed to breach the veil, and started to engage with the United Nations of Sol.
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"Liars! Liars and traitors the lot of you!!" I cried out, "You swore I'd go back, that this nightmare would end!! I was your lap dog, I killed countless warriors and demons at your request, I fought a fucking dragon with no help!! I had to watch my friends die before my very eyes all for this goal that you were never going to give me?! That you had fooled me into believing?! Do you know who I am?! What I am?! I am a god amongst men and you are all fools to have betrayed me!"
As I spoke out the king raised his hand calling forth his strongest knights and mages, "You shall watch your tone boy, why of course we lied, there was no other way, you were desperate and so we're we. I cannot give you your freedom nor your old ways but I can give you so much more, wealth beyond imagination, a lavish life, a country of your own, and anything else you may want. But continue on this tyrade and all you will be gifted is a warriors death."
I laughed, loud and clear, with a sort of deranged and angered sincerity, "You think you could kill me?! You who are so weak, so decrepit that you depend on knights who can't even kill a dragon with an army?! If you think you stand a chance than try old bastard, I won't do your dirty work anymore!" I pulled my hand back in a swirling motion and thrust forwards towards the kings personal mages, with one quick motion they had all been seared, reduced to ash. As the knights rushed forth I recited a chant as I pressed my hands together into proper position, time stood still as I ripped each man apart piece by piece, and when all that remained was me and the king, he laughed, the old bastard laughed at me after using me as he did! I wanted him dead, but more I wanted him to suffer. I cast a simple pain spell but before I could react he swiped it away with his barehands.
"You arrogant child, you think you're the only one, the only 'hero' how else would a frail old man maintain command of the most power hungry empire? You're arrogance has blinded you and now I'll keep my promise." He rushed forward with a wide swing of his sword aiming straight for my neck, I dodged a d drew my own blade, clash after clash, swing after swing, we fought like this for hours, swords and magicks flying high through the air.
"You BASTARD!!!!! YOU KNEW!!! YOU KNEW WHAT WOULD HAPPEN, YOU KNEW WHAT I WOULD GO THROUGH AND YOU STILL SENT ME AS YOUR SERVANT!!! I'LL GUT YOU LIKE A FISH!!!!" I shouted.
"I knew that much is true, for I experienced the same as you many years ago but I grew from it, this power, it must be used to make the best of it, there will be others and they will seek the same as you, there have been many before and many will come after, you are not special, I am not special." He had a serious tone as he spoke, he was so calm yet so fierce in his assault and as the fight drew to a close there was still one thing I had that he didn't, youth.
He tired out after a day of combat and as he gasped for breath barely standing I took my blade and said, "Then I will tell them the truth instead of hiding behind the facade of a strong man, King Leomond, I will bring them peace and let them grow as people not as slaves unlike you." And I swung down cleaving his head from his neck. I lifted his head, cast a spell into the sky, a brilliant burst of flame, and as all the common folk looked on in curiosity I hoisted it high, "Your King Is Dead! Now it is I who bears the crown and I alone!"I spent years building and preparing for the next chosen to arrive and when they did I told them everything, I guided them along, because in that fight and through my journey I learned I never truly wanted to go home I simply wanted to be at peace, and after all the Bloodshed peace was finally mine, and mine alone.
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jaym8w4
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jayklqu
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[WP] "Look," said the demon. "This is the 13th time you've summoned me to sell your soul. My boss wants to know where you're getting all these souls."
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I looked pleadingly into his sulphur eyes, squiriming about in my seat. I shuddered and my facial muscles melted, unwilling to open up. A tall, humanoid thing, with 8 arms, the body of two men, and a handsome, owl-like face, domineered over my body, as smoke billowed out its tiny nostrils.
The demon Azathoth growled with those blood red teeth of his. "Speak, mortal!" he cried, as sulfur and brimstone rose from beneath the earth just behind his black wings. "I think I know you a bit too well, don't you? Don't humans have not but one soul!"
I shuddered at the sight of his hypnotic, spiralling eyes. My heart was ablaze, my head was pounded by a million hammers.
"Fine, fine okay, I'll tell you!"
I took a breath. This was a long story.
"So, heres the thing, those aren't my souls. Not me, me, right now anyhow. Those were my other souls."
The demon looked baffled, eyes and mouth wide open. "How can a mortal have multiple souls, particularly without demonic interference?!" he yelled. "Preposterous!"
"I have DID. Split personality disorder."
The demon stared blankly. "So?"
"It means that every once in a while, my brain goes stupid and I... kinda become someone else for a while. Its hard to explain. It just kinda happens every once in a while, when I'm bored or sad or stressed. First showed up when I was 16. Lizzy, she seemed so confident of herself and open about it. Adam, he would be a bit of a paranoid wreck that one. George..."
"Alright, I get it, but how does that fit with being able to sell your soul multiple times?"
"Each one of these personalities have fully formed thoughts, opinions, ideas and whatnot. Each of them have their own aspirations and can kinda take control of my body. And I myself can't really tell whats happening when they're in control. It used to be scary, used to just black out and return in a flash. Lately though I managed to set up some sort of schedule with the remaining ones. Anyways, back to the story, one day when I was 19 I was really tormented and sad and suchnot over various identity issues and then saw some spell in the university library while doing research for my degree on folklore and mythology. It promised fame, fortune and whatnot for your own soul and spirit and... I didn't care at the time for my own fate, pah! I thought I was going to Hell anyways so why not? You know? Then after I met you the first time and got my riches, I realized that Sylvie was gone from my mind! Her nagging little bratty makeup-obsessed shitty fucker... yeah, yeah, take that bitch, see you in hell! Simeon, Gayle, Boomer... yep, die in a fire, wooh!"
"So, you're saying that you sell the souls of people you form within your mind, who are almost classifiable as full humanoid beings."
I smiled with a dopey grin. "Yep!"
He stood stunned.
"I don't believe it. Can you prove it."
I eyed the googly-eyed clock that was pinned right by the wall we were on. It was about to strike 4.
I chirruped, "Well, you're in luck, it's time to switch out with George! Just gotta tell him to sub me back in after a bit!"
My vision went black. I dreamt back to the first time I met that dreamboat of a demon. He's unironically probably the kindest man I have consistently met. Once or twice the deals only went through because I insisted very hard that I neeeded it. Really, aside from the occasional story about how he'd ram a upstart hedonist up his ass (I envy them), or how he'd manipulate a sinner into destroying their own fortune (deserved), he's very reasonable! Hell, he even respects my pronouns and shit, way more than the caretakers I tried coming out to did anyhow! If he wasn't so busy, we'd probably be down for a cup of tea, I said, to the reluctant agreement of the others in my mind. Really hope I can talk back to em again,
The candlelight of my dark and stuffy room flashed back into my pupils. Azathoth waved his left set of appendages and glared at me with a concerned, blank stare. An hour has passed on the clock.
"Phi, you there?" he gently asked.
I adjusted my rotund glasses and mumbled about a bit. He took that as a sign of agreement.
"Listen man, what you've wrought to your identities, that's pretty fucked up man. You're causing your split identities to have split identities with what you're threatening them with! When you die you probably have enough sins that the big guy downstairs could probably promote you to a lower demon or something."
I was puzzled. "So?"
Azathoth pressed the fingers of his upper right hand on the middle pair of his 6 slins for eyes. "Look man, what we have here is what we call cheating the devil alright? So, by traditional decree, I'm supposed to drag you to hell right here right now and put you on one of the badder layers."
I'm too tired to be thinking about this. I needed to call into work in 3 hours. I haven't slept in a day.
"However, I must say, I like you mate, and the agreement is kinda non-binding anyways, most of Hell's rules are, so I'm gonna do this once and once only - I'm gonna take one more soul, then never, I mean never, do this again, okay?"
"W...what?"
"Stop doing this shit. I'll do it once more, but never again!"
"No."
"It's for your own good."
I was wide awake now. I swished my head and replied, "No."
The devil groaned, all 8 hands covering face. "Look here man, I know this thing is technically bringing more souls into Hell and inflating my stats for pay bonuses, but like, if this gets out all of them are gonna get on my ass for it! You care for my job right? Right bud?"
I stood up and turned cheek to him. "No. I won't do it."
Unceasing fire burst across his body. "What do you want? You want a big payday to cover the rest of your life, I'll do it! You want me to ease your mind forever, I'll do it! Please, just don't make me have to resort to desperate measures!"
I glanced back at his eyes. He actually was begging on his knees, beak cajoling about from anger.
I looked back forth. "I don't want to do it because I don't want to miss out on losing you."
Azathoth stared dead ahead.
"You're probably the greatest friend I have nowadays."
He smiled just a bit. "Look, if you wanna meet again, I'll just teach you a few more rituals to call me to your realm, alright? They're not gonna be that hard, and... we can probably cover up that we're just having fun if we do just choose to have fun..."
I obliquely smiled back. "The money was nice though. And the fame. And the whole, 'inadvertently getting my mind in order' thing."
Azathoth chuckled. "Hey look dude, I'm a demon, not a psychologist, you gotta use mortal methods to solve that problem. Now, lets shake on it, lest I miss my next shift."
|
**Part One**
Jeriah had fallen from God eternities ago, banished from His kingdom before he had even gotten there. However, contrary to popular belief, Jariah had taken to his new home quite well. As a child — centuries and centuries ago — he’d been known as a fiery kid, taking that name to literal meaning and setting on fire anything he could get his hands on. So, yeah. Jeriah was familiar with Hell, had always been.
I’m fact, he knew nothing of goodness except for Sarah Peters’ — his once schoolmate — soft hands and even softer smile. She’d been the only one to show him humanity back then.
But that was too long ago to be considered real, and if there was one thing Jeriah didn’t do, it was lie to himself. So here he was, under the thumb of Satan himself, forced to do his dirty work.
Jeriah sighed, glancing out at the vast expanse of burning embers and wondering who in their right mind would sell their soul more than once. Jeriah had been there, and even he knew what a gamble that was. The things you could lose — the things that made you eternally good — far outweighed anything you could ever gain.
He sighed once more, deciding to drive those thoughts out of his mind in favour of focusing on the matter at hand.
Jade Jenkins.
Of course it was Jade Jenkins.
Jade Jenkins and her inability to leave him alone.
She’s been here before, of course. Sold her soul for what must be the 13th time now. And, well… Jeriah supposed the Old Man must be overjoyed, but even he was curious.
So here Jeriah was, meeting Jade Jenkins to accept her soul once again.
“Jeriah,” Jade grinned as she sauntered up to him. “Nice to see you again.”
“Jade Jenkins,” Jeriah greeted. “You’ve caused quite a stir up at headquarters, you know?”
Jade just shrugged. “Just doing my job.”
Jeriah sighed. “Look,” he said. “This is the 13th time you’ve summoned me to sell your soul. My boss wants to know where you’re getting all these souls.”
Jade watched him contemplatively. Here, it was easy to see how many could fall for her allure. Strong and poised, and with eyes as soft as Sarah Peters. For the briefest moment, Jeriah wondered if they were somehow related. But he shook the thought away just as fast as it came when he realized how ridiculous he sounded.
“So?” Jeriah prompted when he realized Jade was not speaking.
“I don’t think I should tell you,” she finally said.
“I’m afraid you have to — the boss was very adamant that I come back with your reasoning.”
“Since when is Satan reasonable?” Jade mumbled. Jeriah held back a snort.
“You’d be surprised,” he said. “Now for that reasoning?”
“If I’m going to tell you, then you must promise to keep accepting any souls I sell after this.”
“That’s a gamble in itself,” Jeriah said, eyes glinting.
“Look,” Jade starts, with an equally dangerous glint in her eyes. “These are my terms. I know I’m the one who brings in the most souls. I brought 13 in a *month.* That’s more than anyone ever has before.”
“Who’s to say you’re the only one?” Jeriah asked.
Jade fixed him with a deadpan stare, daring him to contradict her. Still he waited. Jeriah had been called many things in his life — and death — a coward had not been one of them.
“I have my ways of getting information,” she finally said.
He read between the lines. “You have a confederate?”
Jade remained silent, refusing to give him anymore information, and Jeriah sighed, recognizing that was all he was getting out of her. She was stubborn, that one. Too stubborn for her own good.
“Alright,” he agreed. “You’ve got a deal if give me an explanation.”
Jade grinned at him, before suddenly sobering. She took a breath, for once looking unsure. “I don’t steal souls,” she started. “They — well. I only have the power to *borrow them*. It’s a simple exchange, actually. I can swap my soul with another for a certain amount of time and do whatever I please in that time — which I use to come here, obviously — and then I can return to them and get my soul back.” She looked at Jeriah with solemn eyes, as if she was grieving for something he knew nothing about. Still, she claimed she was borrowing them, and while Jeriah didn’t care much for logistics, even he could see the fault in her justification.
“So you’re stealing them?” There was no judgement in his voice, only contemplation.
“No!” Jade exclaimed loudly. “No, of course not!” She looked around, which was quite silly considering they were the only two people here, but then said, very quietly, almost solemnly, “They willingly give their souls to me.”
And if that didn’t have Jeriah taken aback, he didn’t know what could.
“They willingly give their souls to you? Why not just sell them to the devil himself?”
Jade looked down, hesitated, then looked at him again. Finally, she said, “They want to keep their humanity.”
*Humanity?*
“Yes,” Jade affirmed, and Jeriah realized he must have spoken aloud. “I sell the souls of madden men in exchange that they keep their humanity. Have you ever wondered why I’m not mad, myself, even as I come here and sell soul after soul?”
Of course he had wondered. That doesn’t mean he got to ask.
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ltvgi8f
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ltv5fcb
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[WP] You've been sent out to defeat a powerful, reality bending god. All have died horrifically trying. And here you are in front of the crying god as they complain about how you just shot them.
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I wasn't told he was a child.
Gargoroth is a powerful, reality bending god who has done terrible things. Every hero deployed to defeat him has died horrifically. I've been told to use this new-fangled hyper-dimensional gun to shoot him.
Maybe it will work, the gunsmith said.
Perhaps you would die horribly like the rest, the recruiter sipped his tea like it was another casual Sunday afternoon.
I expected to die.
Yet, here I am, very much alive. In front of this crybaby who's bitching about how I just shot him.
"Hey kid, I'm sorry," I fumbled my apology. "I thought it was a water gun. It's not supposed to hurt. Do you want a water gun too? We...can play together?"
Too late to take those words back. Should've recalled the kid's idea of play once involved making a skipping rope out of Hero #583's intestines. The reports say he wasn't malicious; just a kid who had no idea people die when their guts are ripped out because he could rearrange his own organs without any harm.
But somehow this gun made him bleed. It caused him pain. Made him cry.
"No gun! Let's do something instead..." The child god sniffed, wiping his tears from a skin-colored cloth he conjured from nowhere. "You pick this time. Every time I choose a game, the others stop playing with me."
I couldn't hold myself back. "Because they're dead! People die when they're killed!"
"They do?" He seemed baffled. "My older brother pops back up any time I blow his head off for fun. He says its revenge when he tears off my foot to stick it in my mouth. Do you want me to introduce him?"
"No thanks, bruh," I shook my head and crossed my arms in a big "X".
"Awww....well, I always thought he had great ideas," Gargoroth pouted.
"Let's try one of my ideas, shall we?" I suggested hopefully. "Why don't we build a ship with Lego? Do you know what's...Lego?"
A big pile of Lego blocks appeared before us. The small god spread his arms wide and the blocks began to take shape.
"I...can't do that."
"Oh? What can you do?" He cocked an eyebrow at me.
With a deep breath, praying he wouldn't be disappointed, I bent down to put two pieces of Lego together. After a few seconds of complete silence, I added a third. A fourth.
"This is slow," he bemoaned, lowering his arms as his floating Lego blocks hung in the air as thick as my fear of a terribly painful death.
"Uh, yea it is," I muttered. "Why don't you help me do this by hand?"
"Why don't you tell me what ship you have in mind?"
"I don't know," I shrugged, pressing a fifth piece into place. "I'm not some Lego building expert."
He stared at me, a sinister glow in his pupils. "Why suggest Lego if you suck at it?"
"Because its fun?" I shuddered and wiped the sweat from my forehead. "I don't have to be good at something to have fun."
He was quiet for a moment. Thinking. Scratching his head. His tongue licking his lips.
"Yea, I like fun."
"Let's do this slow. The fun isn't in how fast you do it," I took my sweet time fixing a sixth piece to my small assembly of Lego blocks, hoping he'd see the point. "Fun is enjoying the thing you're doing. Something about the journey, not the destination. You cut yourself out of a lot of fun if its all done in a minute."
"...I can try."
We can do this. Piece by piece. Today, he'll learn about the fun of playing with Lego with his own hands. No magic, no powerful handwave. Maybe, if I live until tomorrow, I'll start teaching him how to play safely with mortals. My mind is already racing with lesson plans. Lessons on how to use reality-bending powers responsibly. Stories on how gods and mortals interact without bloodshed. Gargoroth is a kid who needs a mentor, not a hero to slay him.
Because a hero isn't always someone who wields a big fucking sword or gun to slay a god.
----
[Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, click here for more prompt responses and short stories written by me.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/)
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Well, I have been chosen as the next victim.
Well, they called it "hero", but nonetheless, I was just a death-row criminal, sent to deal with a powerful Reality Bending Deity, RBD, the organization called it.
Many, some superpowered have tried before, but they all died.
I arrived at the God's house? Nest? Headquarter? And shot them on sight.
Now...this figure of light...information...laws?
They were crying.
"You...You shot me!", they shouted.
I scratched the back of my head...and then looked at the gun.
It was a basic Glock...
"Yeah...I did...", I said.
"WHY?! IT HURTS!", They shouted...their voice sounding feminine.
Maybe...they were a female?
"Ahm...haven't you killed like a hundred or so other individuals?
While slowly transforming everything around into...this?", I said, gesturing towards the flickering mish-mash of images, that once were trees I think.
"No...I mean yes, but not intentionally...
I just arrived here...and got stuck with this realm's laws shackling me.
I am trying to free myself, to go back home.
Then these individuals start talking to me, then using their powers, or touching me...and my own powers just reacted to these attempts.", they said.
I looked at the Glock in my hand, and then at the "God".
"I mean...this is a normal gun...why did their attempt not work, but this did?", I asked.
"HOW SHOULD I KNOW! BUT IT FKN HURTS!", They roared.
I sighed, and tried to contact the organization, but all I got was static.
Fantastic...I had to make the choice myself.
The figure was flickering...and the spot where I shot Them was...pulsating with light.
"Can I know what will you do after you free yourself?", I asked.
"GO HOME! ALREADY TOLD YOU! WHO WANTS TO BE IN A PLACE WHERE THEY ARE NOT WELCOME! AND UNCOMFORTABLE!", They roared at me.
I think I saw space tremble around me...yet I was...safe?
"Can I help you?", I asked.
They shrugged, and I walked up to them...and then...the figure simply disappeared, and everything started to return to normal.
"Weird.", I muttered.
Just then, communication were online again, and the organization saw that I was alone, and the God was gone.
Helicopters, and cars were heard in the distance.
I sighed.
"It seems I am about to get a proper code...and go from a criminal...to a research subject.
Yeeey.", I sighed, as I sat down on the ground, and waited for their arrival.
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ldwbw6t
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ldw7p78
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[WP] One day anyone who turned 18 was given a superpower of their choice. The only problem, they worked like usernames with only one person having that specific superpower. This created chaos, with the first gen almost ending the world. You’re a fifth generation user, and it was now your birthday
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Getting a superpower may seem cool, but by the time my generation came of age it was much different than you would expect. When the gift of superpowers first arrived there were no instructions, people just suddenly started exhibiting amazing abilities. A few things became clear early on, 1 - every superpower had been chosen by the individual that received it, 2 - the powers were not triggered until a person had officially turned 18, 3 - the powers didn’t always manifest immediately, some people gained them the instant they turned 18, others took hours, days, weeks or even months, and 4 - a superpower could only be manifested in one person at a time. It took until the second generation before it was discovered that point #4 was the reason there was a delay in some people’s manifestations - they were trying to choose a superpower that had already been manifested in someone else.
The second generation decided to go on strike, no one wanted to be a superhero because there was too much pressure and demand, especially for people with certain types of power. By the start of the third generation the governments of the world had already tried and failed to create a database of chosen powers, the official reason for termination of the project was it was taking too many man hours and costing too much money to maintain…unofficially, it was that most people had stopped admitting to their real powers. Somewhere near the middle of generation 3’s manifesting a rumour started circulating that you could gain your power of choice…all you had to do was find and kill the current owner of said power, the only problem is that by now no one was admitting what their power was, even amongst family.
Generation four was met by mass genocide, huge swaths of the population were being wiped out in an attempt to control the dispersal of the superpowers. This is where the story should end, but instead of being beaten and subdued the remaining people rose up and using their larger numbers and powers they were able to push back. When a stalemate was reached, it was determined that neither side would give in and eventually the peace treaties were forged. By the time the fifth generation was ready to manifest its powers a ceremony had been developed, each person was required to take part in this ceremony. The ceremony lasted for three days and consisted of many different tests and trials, at the end of which you were given a list of five superpowers you could choose from - these powers were determined by your placement and performance during the testing and trials, and were meant to better and strengthen you as a whole. No one was ever allowed to know what your list contained, they were only informed of what power you had chosen.
Today is my 18th birthday, there is no celebration, no ceremony, I will officially be of choosing age in 15 minutes. As I count down the minutes, I look around the little room I have never left and reflect on the stories and history my parents have taught me. Their parting words to me this morning were “You can be anything you want to be”.
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"I'll be damned" I said after sighing, being a fifth gen user really puts a limit to what power I can have.
"There really ain't that much option, considering that most superpowers are already taken by the previous generation users" mumbling to myself as I continue to brainstorm a great superpower that is not yet taken.
Suddenly a commercial played on television that is infront of me. It shows a boy drawing and thinking of a possible superpower he can have when he grows up. As the boy continues to talk, my attention was drawn by the drawing depicting a blackhole infront of an astronaut. And then it hits me. A great idea for a superpower.
"HA..HAHA..HAHAHAHA, I'll be really damned if my idea is not yet taken" as my face contorts into an appearance that can only be described as ecstatic and overjoyed, I closed my eyes to imagine the power that I come up with and calm down.
After a short moment I deeply inhale and exhale before opening my eyes. I raise my right hand as if reaching for the television when a small circular thing appears and contorts the space around the television while sucking the object inside.
I smiled and was left shocked by what just happened. I tried it again and this time experimented with the power that I got. After some time, I stopped playing around and stood up from the sofa that I was sitting on the whole time.
"How could anyone not come up with the idea of blackhole..." As the thought popped up, another idea was created. "Well looks like I need to go back and study science again"
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jy1omy4
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jy1nsr4
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[WP] Turns out that Hell has no fire, torture, or frozen wastelands to endure. The only actual punishment is having to spend an eternity with the other assorted jerks that ended up there as well.
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It’s been six months since my arrival, six months of hoping and wishing for the fire and brimstone I was promised, but no…I’m stuck here with Steve.
In this empty 6x6 room, I’m reminded daily of how much I hate Steve, who seems to have been built as a perfect antithesis to me. I was told when they first shut this door, that I’d get a new roommate every six months, but I’m starting to think that might just be a lie to make me suffer false hope of getting a break from this guy.
Steve plays the drums with his fleshy palms against the concrete walls. Steve talks about food he misses from earth and will never have again. Steve wants to arm wrestle with me non stop. All I want to do is sleep, eternally. I can’t do that, because Steve prefers the bright lights to be on 24/7 and will fight like a rabid raccoon to defend the light switch if I attempt to flip it. I avoid this, because despite what you might think…we still have bodies here that can feel pain. I wish that wasn’t the case.
Steve often asks me, “Why don’t you cheer up buddy?”, to which I generally reply “Well, Steve…I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re in HELL!”
I should mention, my name is also Steve, and I wish to this day I’d have never told the truth about that because Steve constantly refers to us as ‘twins’ or ‘Steve-bros’ in the most off putting ways you could imagine. I’m still not sure if having us two Steve’s in this room together is part of the hellish design of this place, or just a coincidence. Whatever the case may be, Steve seems to be oddly enjoying his stay here…as if he’s just in jail for an overnight respite. My attempts at explaining our situation to him are laughed off and scoffed at as a joke.
There have been times where I’ve questioned just how far my sanity can be stretched, usually after the ninth hour of Steve palm drumming the same Phil Collins song over and over again without so much as a minute break. The drumming is sharp and echoes in the room, bouncing off the cold walls and resulting in a muddled mess of skin sounds. Somehow, I’ve gripped onto what’s left of my mind…holding out hope that I’ll get a new roommate who won’t be nearly as obtuse and oddly full of energy.
I just want to sleep. Even in hell, it’s cruel to not let someone catch some z’s. Each and every single time I’ve started to fall asleep, Steve has slapped me in a way he finds comedic and usually exclaims something like “No sleeping in the *Stevepad* loser! Rule number one!” or something equally annoying. He thinks we’re in some kind of fun after school club or something with the way he acts. One day, I hope to gather the skill to sleep through these slaps, even for just a few minutes.
Yesterday was when my worry turned into frantic horror as the trajectory of this room started to become clear. There was a knock on the door, which caused my excitement to build that I might be getting a new roommate…but it took a while for anything to happen. Some hours later though, the door creaked open and from the darkness on the other side entered another man with an odd frantic smile on his face as he ping ponged his eyes between the two of us, the door slammed shut behind him, then he exclaimed “Hey dudes, I’m Steve, I’m your new roommate!”
Its now three Steves in our 6x6 room. There are now two Steves playing drums at the same time. Today, I tried to join them…rhythmically knocking my head against the concrete to the beat of their songs, desperately trying my best to lose consciousness, praying at some point here that if I hit it hard enough, some kind of sleep will come.
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When I was escorted to area I was to remain in for, well, not sure how long, but for the time being, I was really fearful. But no. No hot lava or fire showers or being poked with brimming hot pitch forks. I was just sitting on a rather uncomfortable long bench. Just when I started to feel a little smug, as if I might have beaten the system, another bloke sat down at the other end of the bench. I didn't want to make it obvious that I was the new guy. So, I gradually, nonchalantly craned my neck over to the direction the dude was sitting. Tried not to make eye contact. I didn't know if my mind was playing games on me or what, but I could of swore I'd seen that guy before. But, I kept my cool. Just kind of half-smiled and nodded. He looked over at me. He wasn't trying to conceal any stealth at all. He blurted out, "It sucks doesn't it?"I wait a minute before responding, but secretly I was glad he broke the ice first.
"Yeah, I guess so. I dunno. Doesn't seem too bad," I offered back, trying to sound cool.
"They made me shave," he said. I just looked at him. Not sure what to make of it, I just nodded."Uh, what's that now? We gotta' shave down here?"
He responded, "no, just me. There might be a few others. But yeah, I had to shave."
I wasn't quite sure what to make of this guy. He seemed a little off. I was about to say something, change the subject, ask about how the food was, but before I could, he stood and said emphatically, "It's the damn Jews! That's why they why I'm down here."Ohhhhhh now I know how I recognized this dude. Dammit. Friggin' Adolph. Of course. I quickly got up and walked as fast as I could away from him. I ran into Joe Stalin, Pol Pot, Fidel Castro, just a bunch of other @$$holes. They had no power. No authority. Just pathetic, irritating dudes, talking $h!+ that made no sense. I wanted to kill myself, but I was already dead. Later I was informed that I had been brought to the wrong ward. I was then dropped off at a different wing of hell. The sign above the entrance for this corridor read: male Karen's. This was going to be miserable....
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lgqepsp
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lgq10k6
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[WP] After you gave your master the standard 3 wishes, you told him to leave the lamp in a place like a women’s shelter or a homeless camp. Instead he sold your lamp to the highest bidder and now you are determined to twist the 3 wishes to the detriment of both your current and former master.
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For centuries, I have served as a genie, bound to the lamp and the whims of my masters. For centuries, I have granted wealth, prosperity, armies, invulnerability, power. I didn’t mind really. My lamp was often found where only the downtrodden lay, where my power was of good, more or less. Shawn was no different. Living paycheck to paycheck. He found my lamp in a dumpster. He was scrawny. Starved. He had run out of money for food that month and decided to check dumpsters for food. I don’t know how I ended up there, but it brought me joy to see the change my power made to one unfortunate soul.
His wishes were the usual. Wealth beyond his wildest dreams. I warned him that wealth like that is often more of a curse, especially to those who don’t treat it properly. He didn’t care. I granted it. The market crash of 2008? Yeah, that was him flooding the market with more money, devaluing the dollar. At least he was wise enough to hold his next two wishes.
When he summoned me again in 2009, he barely had anything. His money was all spent. The taxes on his properties were piling up. He had been married, and divorced, twice, which resulted in losing much of his assets. He was nearly back to where he started. This time, he wished for the wisdom that leads to great success. The wisdom to handle the money he had. I bowed my head, and it was done.
2019 was the last time he summoned me. He had rebuilt his wealth. He had a commercial empire, but this time, he had a family. One who seemingly loved him. His youngest child was sick. Dying. Doctors could not cure her. His final wish was to save her life. I gladly honored that wish. As the lamp was pulling me back in, I left him with one single request. “Leave my lamp in a place where I can do good, as I have done for you.”
He thanked me for saving his child and promised he would. Now, when I’m in the lamp, I don’t know much about what is going on in the outside world. However, I do get some feedback from what’s immediately around my lamp. At first, I knew he was taking me somewhere. I thanked Shawn for honoring my last wish. It wasn’t to be.
When my next master rubbed the lamp, I awoke to a penthouse of luxury and finery. It was now 2025 and I instantly knew I was nowhere near a person in need. I scowled. “Greetings master,” my voice was low and unemotional.
He licked his lips and rubbed his hands together. All I saw was greed. “I spent a fortune on you, now you will do my bidding,” he had told me.
Yeah, turns out, Shawn sold me to the highest bidder, Reginald. At least it’s good to know I’m worth 15 million. As good as it felt to be so valuable, I was furious. Shawn, that backstabbing traitor. He didn’t want anyone without to reach the heights he did. He rigged the game by giving those with the power to gain more.
The first wish the fool made was to have the Midas touch. I smiled. Happy to grant his request. Everything he touched turned to gold. He was excited, shouting about being the wealthiest man alive. Ah, Reginald, he gave it a good run. However, having solid gold clothes kinda sucked. Also, not being able to eat, since the moment it went into his mouth, it turned to gold. That only lasted a day before he used his second wish to recant the first. He still admired the golden penthouse he had created, until the support began to buckle under the weight.
Unfortunately, he was able to escape the collapse of the building. Fortunately, all the gold he had made was then used for the lawsuits and to repair it, so in a way, he broke even. With all the gold that was now flooding the market, the price dropped dramatically. That was Shawn’s number one investment. I grinned wickedly.
Reginald was panicked. He lost one of his many homes, as well as his first two wishes. He rubbed the lamp one last time. “For my final wish,” Reginald began, his voice tinged with desperation, “I wish for an unbreakable business empire. One that will survive and thrive, beyond any competition, especially from Shawn’s enterprises. No one should be able to challenge my supremacy.”
A shadow of a smile played across my face. “As you wish, master,” I said, my voice calm and resonant. The room shimmered for a moment, then the magic was gone.
Reginald’s business empire indeed became unbreakable and flourished beyond any other, dominating markets and industries with uncanny success. However, the nature of its operations transformed entirely. I had subtly twisted the wish: Reginald’s companies now excelled in sectors that directly benefited the disadvantaged and vulnerable populations—the sectors he and many like him often overlooked. His leading ventures became affordable housing projects, nonprofit healthcare facilities, and sustainable agriculture programs that served and empowered low-income families.
I tied all his business ventures to the public, so at all times they knew what he was doing. The empire’s prosperity was infused with a unique clause, tying it to social responsibility. The more the company served the poor and needy, the more it thrived. Any shift towards exploitative or unethical business practices led to immediate financial downturns and failures. Reginald found himself caught in a benevolent trap: to maintain his empire and personal wealth, he had to aggressively fund and expand welfare projects and fair-trade agreements that directly competed with—and undermined—Shawn's less ethical businesses.
Shawn, watching his new rival’s unexpected pivot and success, found his own empire threatened not just economically but also in public perception. As Reginald inadvertently became a champion for social justice and equity, Shawn's ventures appeared increasingly predatory and out of touch in contrast. To salvage his reputation and holdings, Shawn was compelled to engage in similar philanthropic activities, thus redirecting substantial resources away from his personal enrichment to community support.
As both tycoons unwittingly became major benefactors in their communities, their initial intents of greed and supremacy dissolved into a legacy of impactful, community-focused endeavors. Reginald, bound by my magic to continue his support for the needy to sustain his empire, and Shawn, driven to adapt to the shifting business landscape, both transformed under the weight of the wishes they had so carelessly made.
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The sun finally dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the city as Marcus wrapped his fingers around the ancient lamp in his small condo room. His heart pounded with excitement; he had heard the legends of genies granting wishes, like anyone else would, but he never thought he'd hold such power in his hands— like anyone else would.
But he had mustered all his savings from high school up until the present, and he even took a big loan, just for a gamble at what could potentially be a fake genie lamp in a shady auction.
With a deep breath, he rubbed the lamp. A thick, blue smoke spiraled from the spout of the lamp, coalescing into the form of a towering genie. The genie had its typical soul patch and pencil mustache, but its foreboding smile stood out to the young man. Its eyes glowed with an eerie light, and a sinister smile crept across its face.
"Greetings, master," the genie uttered, bowing his head low. "I am bound to grant you three wishes. Speak your desires."
Marcus couldn't believe his luck. He clasped his hands together as if he were a fly and let out a rather wicked smile. He even almost jumped in place, but he contained his excitement, for the time being. "I wish for unimaginable wealth," he declared, eyes glinting with greed, teeth glistening with malice.
The genie snapped its fingers, and suddenly, from his little condominium room, Marcus found himself in a mansion filled with gold and jewels. The young man couldn't quite help but let out a hearty laugh, marveling at his newfound riches. One would be disgusted by such a blatant wish of greed, but the genie's smile widened, almost imperceptibly, strangely enough.
Marcus's next wish was for eternal youth. Once again, the genie complied, and Marcus immediately felt a surge of energy. Being an 8-5 office worker for six days a week takes a toll on anyone, Marcus, despite being young, suffered its repercussions greatly— so much so that he instantaneously felt a difference.
For his final wish, Marcus paused. He had everything he could dream of— an abundance of wealth and eternal youth. What more could a man want? Or say, what more could a man need? He pondered, as seconds threatened to turn into a minute. Eventually, he then decided. "I wish for ultimate power over all men."
The genie nodded slowly, and with another quick snap, Marcus felt an overwhelming sense of strength and invincibility. He was invincible, untouchable. Or so he thought.
"Be gone. I'll keep you in a safe, no one else should have this much power," Marcus uttered. The genie nods, heeding his masters' orders. But before the genie fully went back inside the spout, he let out a cheeky statement despite unasked. "You're just like my former master, it seems. But perhaps even worse."
Weeks passed, and Marcus reveled in his fortune and influence. Yet, strange things began to happen. His mansion, once a fortress, felt like a prison. His riches brought only suspicion and greed from those around him— not to mention the IRS knocking at his door every single day wondering where he got this surge of money. And his power made everyone look at him differently, isolated and paranoid.
One night, as Marcus paced his gilded halls, the genie's words echoed in his mind. "Three wishes," the genie had said. But it was what the genie hadn't said that gnawed at him. Desperation clawed at Marcus. In cold sweat, he ran to the safe, cracked it open, and rubbed the lantern once more.
"Why is this happening to me?" Marcus demanded, his voice cracking with fear.
The genie chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down Marcus's spine. "Did you think power comes without a price? My former master learned that the hard way."
Marcus's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
The genie leaned closer, its eyes boring into Marcus's soul. "Your predecessor was supposed to leave the lamp where it could help those in need; a homeless shelter, for example. Instead, he sold it for his own gain. Now, both of you will suffer the consequences of your greed."
Panic surged through Marcus. "But I can still make things right! I can—"
The genie's laughter cut him off. "Your fate is sealed, Marcus. I wanted to see your despairing face right before I leave. It appears a few weeks' time was all that was needed."
Before Marcus could react, the genie vanished, leaving only the dying echo of its laughter. The mansion's opulence seemed to crumble around him, and as the walls were closing in, he could feel his youth and vigor gradually fading away, too.
And somewhere in the city, a new hand found the lamp; someone whose eyes were gleaming with dreams of wishes and power, woefully unaware of the curses that awaited him.
The end— or perhaps, yet another beginning.
😸😸😸😸
r/KittenMantra <- Check out my subreddit of writing prompts submissions if you liked this one!
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mcv9jht
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mcv3oib
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[WP] "Dragon, I've come to slay you!" Confused, you look at the unarmored child pointing a wooden sword at you.
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“Dragon, I’ve come to slay you!” The high-pitched voice echoed through the cavern, startling me awake. Before me stood a tiny figure, clutching a wooden sword with both hands. His face was set in a fierce scowl, though his cheeks were round and his eyes sparkled with mischief.
I tilted my head, smoke curling from my nostrils as I tried to make sense of the scene. “Slay me?” I rumbled, my voice deep and resonant, though I kept it gentle. “And who, pray tell, are you, little one?”
“I am Sir Drakan, the Black Knight and the bravest in all the land!” the child declared, puffing out his chest. He swung the wooden sword in a wide arc, nearly losing his balance in the process. “And I shall defeat you, foul beast, to save the kingdom!”
“Ah, Sir Drakan,” I said, lowering my head to his level. My voice took on a serious tone. “You are indeed brave to face me. But are you sure you’re ready for such a battle? I am a mighty dragon, after all.”
The little one hesitated for a moment, his sword wavering. Then he nodded firmly. “I’m not scared! I’ve trained for this!”
“Very well,” I said, rising to my full height and spreading my wings dramatically. “Then let’s see if you can withstand my fiery breath!”
I opened my jaws, letting a small puff of smoke escape. He squealed with delight, dodging to the side as if avoiding a real blast of flame. He swung his wooden sword at my tail, which I flicked to make it seem like he had landed a blow.
“Ha! Take that, dragon!”
“Oh no, you’ve wounded me!” I exclaimed, clutching at my side with a claw. I let out a theatrical groan and collapsed. “I am defeated! You are truly the greatest knight to ever live.”
“I did it! I saved the kingdom!”
I chuckled, the sound reverberating through the cavern. “Indeed you did, little one. But remember, even the bravest knights need their rest. How about we celebrate your victory with a nap?”
He nodded eagerly, curling up against my warm scales. As his eyes drifted shut, I gently nuzzled him. My son, my little Nefarian, would one day grow into a magnificent dragon. But for now, he was my brave knight, and I was content to play along in his adventures.
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I signed dramatically, lifting my head and unfurling my wings from where I'd been listening to one of the children talk excitedly about her day.
"You have kidnapped the princess and threatened our fields for too long!" It was one of those days. The village children liked playing knights and dragons with me. And I got to learn about human culture. It was a good trade.
At a shockingly strong smack on my ankle, I decided to play along. "Oh nooooooo. I've been felled by the mighty warrior and chosen one!!!"
And much to the child's delight I collapse dramatically, faking death.
"Again!!!! Again!!!!"
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jji2n7j
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jjhi1dd
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[WP] An angry magician cursed a city, turning all the residents into the first animal they thought of. Not powerful enough, it only lasted for a day, and the people surprisingly had fun. A year later they offered to pay the magician to do it again and to make him the leader of the celebration.
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The magician tapped his fingers on the table with a modicum of nervousness as he stared down the several town officials and guardsmen sitting across from him. He didn't feel exactly safe given the recent events but was afeared of what should happen if he didn't allow for a conversation.
The officials stared back with an equal amount of unease. Should things go awry, they *could* take him, yes, but not before he took out several of them. No one wants to be the first one to charge... and the first one to fall.
At last, the silence was broken by the magician, fed up with the heavy air that lingered in the room.
"So," he said, "there have been some... regrettable events last year. I would like to apo-"
"Yes, indeed," said the middle official - the town's mayor - hastily. "First of all, we would like to apologize for the way we've treated you. It is clear we should have shown more respect to your arcane arts and to call you things like, and do pardon me, 'quack and charlatan' was greatly disrespectful. I can assure you this moment of weakness does not reflect our town's quality."
The magician's fingers stopped tapping.
"Wait, what?" he raised an eyebrow.
"We truly do apologize," another official - the coinmaster - said and presented the mage with a... fruit basket. "Please - a small token of our apology." The magician eyed the basket suspiciously, though he spotted no serpent in it.
"You're... not here to apprehend me?"
"Goodness, no!" cried out the mayor with a nervous chuckle. "Why would we-"
"I *cursed* you. The entire town! Turned you to animals, the lot of you!"
The officials looked at one another nervously.
"Well- well yes but it was only for a day, so..."
"Yes, I am well aware my ambition was greater than my arcane talent. But..." the magician said, avoiding their looks with shame, "I am... grateful it wasn't longer-lasting. It was a moment of anger, or weakness - I- I shouldn't have resorted to such terrible methods-"
"So," the mayor said, interrupting him, "we were hoping you could, well... do it again?"
The magician's mouth opened ever so slightly.
"You want me... to... curse you again?" he said ever so slowly.
"If you'd be so kind, then, yes, please," the third official, a chaplain, smiled.
"I don't... what? Why?"
"It may be... surprising, but everyone I've talked to greatly enjoyed their experience," the mayor said exuberantly. "It was so very refreshing, soothing even-"
"Didn't I turn you into a frog?" the magician protested.
"Do you have *any idea* how relaxing it is to simply... sit on a leaf in a pond and not worry about a thing? Just enjoy the sun and eat a couple of flies? I've never been so calm in my entire life!" The mayor's eyes were practically shining as he recalled the experience, a warm smile spread on his face. The magician turned to the coinmaster.
"You were a pig, were you not?"
"Yes, and it made me realize how inefficient our farms were," the coinmaster nodded. "Why, just a couple of improvements from my experience increased our production by 36%! This money funded a new tavern for weary travellers, an actual school-"
"School, yes!" the magician yelled. "How traumatized the poor children must've been, I am so, so sorry-"
"The children?!" the chaplain gasped. "Why, they're the biggest proponents of this here idea, good sir. They've never had more fun in their lives, jumping around on the grass, chasing one another... not to mention it was immensely helpful in my lessons - the little ones are more than ever interested in the study of animals and raising them. Why, this generation might make some of the finest farmers this side of the Kingdom!"
"I was a cat, sir," one of the guardsmen pitched in with a rough voice that was nevertheless filled with pleasantness. "Allowed me to do one of them 'cat stretches' and my back's ne'er been better-"
"Thank you, Reginald, yes," the mayor interrupted him. "So we were hoping this could perhaps be a... a festival? A yearly occasion. Something to improve morale!"
"Bring in tourists!" the coinmaster added.
"A moment to study and reflect indeed," the chaplain nodded along.
"And with you at the head of the celebration, of course!" the mayor smiled. "We'd- we'd compensate you, of course. You name it, we can discuss it!"
The magician rubbed his eyes as he processed the offer and then... laughed. He looked at the eager gathering before him.
"Tenure?" he smiled.
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The characteristic alarm blared.
“Attention residents. The Change will begin at midnight, tonight. Those who do not wish to partake, make sure to paint your door frame’s red with lamb’s blood, which should be available at your local butcher. Your safety can only be guaranteed by the lamb’s blood on your door, so please paint well.”
The message repeated a myriad of times as I readied myself.
I had just finished painting my third coat of lamb’s blood (can never be too careful) when the church bells rang.
Abruptly, I shrank, gaining a poofy tail. My cheeks expanded, feeling odd that there was not a nut tucked into them.
My home’s front door stood open, inviting me to join in a safe respite. Perhaps I’d cuddle up with a nice book, perhaps I’d watch some Survivor.
Yet, I saw the Man, just inside my door. His veins and arteries seemed to leave his body to join the lamb’s blood that bordered my threshold.
His skin crinkled and cracked as he broke into a harsh, wry grin.
“Get!” He yelled at me. “Go on! Git!”
It was as though I was a computer program he had typed a few commands into. My arms and legs moved with a sickening rhythm, like a pupil just learning the piano. Each note felt ill timed, each chord a crash of three keys rather than a lovely ensemble of tunes.
It took all my minor motor control to not fall on my face as my legs took me farther and farther, deeper into the night, deeper away from the red man.
After a time I came to another home, again with its door flung open. A skunk walked mechanically away from the open abode.
“Git!“ I heard from the new house, yet I continued onward, certain I was not being spoken to.
As the stench of the skunk faded, the red of the door’s borders filled my vision.
“You again!” The red man looked at me. He brandished a shotgun, this time. “You have corn in your ears, boy? Git!”
The man brandished the gun, marring his face further my smiling sickly. The deep creases of his face tinged pink-red as he grinned, as though he were a rapidly weathering statue. The creases crunched tighter and harder until drips of blood squeezed through his pores, landing in thick droplets at his feet.
“You deaf or stupid, boy?” He demanded. He moved to chase me, yet stopped just before the door, remaining inside. “You best get on now, before my kin gets back.”
At the mention of kin, my blood went cold. My body, once again, turned around of its own accord. I began walking away, unable to even command my own neck muscles, or my own eyeball muscles.
The man kept my eyes trained on a red speck far in the distance.
As I continued, the red speck widened until it consumed my entire mind. He stood inside, beckoning nicely. He wore a skunk fur around his neck.
“So nice of you to finally join me.” He said as I crossed the threshold into his home. He flexed his bare, calloused fingers. “I’ve been in need of a new pair of gloves.”
He levied a flaying knife.
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jebj92o
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jebcj6k
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[WP] For some reason, you are kidnapped and put into an isolated chamber. The kidnappers expect you to go insane and fess up, but little do they know you are so happy to finally be able to daydream 24/7.
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# Reversed
All I could think about was me walking to the counselors office.
"Do you know why I'm talking to you right now?"
I stared at him.
"You seemed to always be distracted, your grades are dropping. This is very important."
I kept staring, tuning out his words with the ticks of the clock.
*Tick tock, Tick tock, Tick tock.*
"Kati! Seriously?" He sighed. "Just try to keep your fantasy world outside of school, okay?" He dismissed me.
I was walking home from school, like I do everyday. I hate it here. My parents think I'm as dumb as a doorknob as do my teachers. I wish I could leave.
I woke up this morning, sadly. But I'm not in my bed. I'm on hard ground, my mouth is taped as well are my arms. It seems to be a glass containment cell, the lights are bright. I'm panicking.
Then I stop. Someone is coming into the room. More than one person. I can't make out their faces since they are discarded by masks. I assume these are my kidnappers?
"Hello." Said the first person.
"If you are confused, we are holding you here to take place in an experiment. If you don't oblige to being a part of the experiment, you will be *killed.* Understood?"
I nodded.
It was terrible at first. But after awhile I didn't care. Sometimes they'd see what I was fearful of, trying to make me go insane. The dark, spiders, small spaces, noises, heights. I wasn't scared. I moved myself to a land so far away. A world made of pillows and skies made of quilts. With a sunset that burned over the world like candle wax. No one was telling me what I have to do. No one was telling me who to be. They were trying. But no.
I overheard them talking. Something about their boss, and if how the experiment fails-Blah, blah, blah.
I don't know how many days have passed now. They really are desperate. Sometimes I find it amusing, other times, I don't care. One of the kidnappers left—the second one. He probably didn't want to risk getting killed.
I can feel my body. Its very malnourished. But I'm feeding my mind. I really have no sense of time at this point. The kidnappers wonder how I'm not dead, some days they're screaming and talking and fighting.
This was the only time I snapped out of it. It may have been months at this point. My parents probably haven't tried looking for me, that wouldn't be surprising. The sound was so loud. *BANG!* My abductors had shot each other, at the same time. I realized I was the only one left in the room.
This has been fun. The tape around my body had worn off. There was no weapons in the glass room, no rocks, nothing. This is the first time I realized it. My hair used to be my neck length. Its down to my waist now. I stand up. Pain. I ran and threw myself against one of the glass walls. It shattered.
I grab the gun, and decide to end the daydreams.
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Finally, I can hear the voices clearly. You never realize how noisy the world is until you’re comforted with beautiful silence.
Who shall speak to me today?
Tiffany? A voice so faint that it could be a whisper. The last time I heard her she was singing me to sleep the day of my mother’s funeral. I remember desperately trying to find her for comfort. I tried everything but noise cancelling headphones only go so far. It’ll be nice to hear from Tiffany again.
Maybe if I close my eyes…
A faint scream fills the room.
“hi Marcus, still falling?”
Marcus’s voice is an echo, he’s been falling for years. I respond to the echos of his screams from the abyss. The last time I got angry I could hear his echo “you should slap the shit outta him.”
I have no clue who they are or why they chose me, but I can provide them with a home in me and in return, I feel less alone.
There’s an excitement in the air, I think a new voice is coming in. The other voices are screaming in unison. I have to bang my head to shut them up.
I can hear the desperation in the new voice as it’s reaching out. I have to press my head against the walls to hear it clearly.
It’s suddenly quiet.
All I can hear is a hum. It’ll probably take a while for this new voice -Beth- to get comfortable with me.
Luckily, I have the time.
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juzcf3f
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juyuk2l
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[WP] You're the first test subject for an experimental super soldier serum. You are told the truth only after you transform into something not quite human anymore.
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*HSSS*
*SLURP*
"What. Am. I ?!?!?"
Henry said thickly, forcing coherence through his strange new mouth. What were these things inside his mouth, they felt like tendons!?
His examiner, who had introduced themselves as Lt. Grint, kept staring at him with a hawk-like intensity, and simply instructed:
"Discipline your mind, sergeant, and take stock. What is different?"
He kept looking at himself in the full-length mirror they had provided, the changes were strange and random. Patches of flakey, almost scaly skin. His forearms were bulging in strange ways, and he could swear his entire hip structure was lowered.
Then suddenly, it hit him. He knew exactly what was different, what had changed.
" My... mind." *Slurp* "Why. Am I. Not... afraid?" He was quickly adjusting to his new facial structure. His body was learning to use the new tracts to funnel excess saliva.
The lieutenant allowed a subtle smile, and replied "Well done Sgt. Juniper. You're the fastest yet to realize."
The lieutenant waved the techs forward and the MPs back, confident in this subjects self-control. The medical technicians folded out the mirror, so the sergeant could see more of themselves and adjust easier to their new body. They also more discreetly set up some scanning equipment, to monitor the sergeants responses and ensure general health.
"Begin your stretching routine, Sgt. Juniper. Learn your new body, while I explain."
Henry was grateful for the permission, and began his routine with a calculated slowness. These had to be treated as new muscles, he didn't yet know what this body could do.
"You are the first successfully integrated subject in project TSR-1986 , known commonly as the 'super-soldier project' , and known colloquially amongst the researchers as the 'Yuan-Ti Modification' "
"Aren't the... yuan-ti... , snake people? Am I part snake now?"
"Don't interrupt again, sergeant. And to answer the question, yes. Essentially. You have been modified, not only with superior speed, strength and stamina, but with certain reptilian traits we believe will be most useful in the performance of your duties."
"No fear."
"Exactly. The suppression of most emotion, allowing a clinical approach to unknown situations and more careful application of force. That was the main goal of the genetic integration. We also found ways to add more... shall we say, obvious advantages? Flex your new forearm muscles."
Henry stopped in his isometric routine, and examined his forearms. They were webbed with new blood vessels, and had a strange stiffness to them. He twitched and twisted his fingers, his palm, looking for these 'new' muscle groups, not quite finding them. He shook out his hands to start again, and suddenly felt a release of tension he hadn't realized was there. His looked at his hands.
"What are those?"
'Those' looked for all the world like milk teeth poking out from under his nails. They were leaking a yellowish fluid, and as he ran them over his palm, he could feel they were hard and very sharp.
"In essence? Those are your fangs. Retractable, we believe. They should deliver a small but lethal dose of venom into anyone you can even scratch in melee combat."
Henry looked at his hands. Retractable? How? He searched for that feeling of unknown tension releasing, and tried to reverse it. After a minute or so, the nubs retracted into their apparent place beneath his nail beds.
"If you succeed you will be the first of a new breed of soldier. Fearless, strong, lethal. Everything we need. Do you have any thoughts, feelings on this, Henry? Now is the chance to express them before you are sent for testing and training."
He looked at the lieutenant for a moment, then looked at himself again. He likely could never re-integrate into wider society with these modifications.
The dry, scaly skin aside, to be able to kill with a touch? To never again know fear, or love, or lust?
His newly cold, reptilian mind incorporated all these facts, and came to a conclusion. It would have been sad, if he could feel that anymore. He stepped away from the mirror, and stopped directly in front of the lieutenant. He came to parade ground attention. The lieutenant smiled when he said just four words:
"I am your weapon."
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# Soulmage
**Anyone else would have questioned the number of guards around the simple bed.** Six witches, two ambassadors from the Eldritch Initiative, and four disgruntled-looking young soldiers with shortswords surrounded Iola as he sauntered towards the center of the room.
But Iola felt good about this. He always felt good—he was just an upbeat kind of person—but the power that the Eldritch Initiative had promised him was so close he could almost taste it.
Wait, no, that was blood. He'd bitten his tongue in excitement. Oh, well, it was far from the first time.
"Now be warned, the process is currently irreversible." Iola had to work around quite a few bureaucratic loops in order to get here—teenagers were *not* supposed to become experimental extradimensional entities. But the man in front of him didn't recognize Iola, and Iola didn't recognize him. "This is your last chance to back out."
The corners of Iola's lips twitched. "Things always work out for me," he said. "I'm quite happy where I am, thank you very much."
The man shrugged. "Well, a test subject is a test subject. Do you have the sample?" He asked, turning towards the ambassador.
The vaguely humanoid puppet of flesh held out... Iola craned his neck, curious. What was that, some kind of potted plant? It was gnarled and ancient and *boring*, so Iola didn't bother thinking about it any further. "You will have to perform the infection yourself, of course."
The man nodded. "For your own safety, please lie down on the—ah, there you go." He came forward, holding the potted plant. "This should only take a moment."
Iola stared at the ceiling, humming to himself, excited for the changes. Would there be a surge of strength as his muscles grew? Ooh, would he sprout razor-sharp claws and wings? Or a fire-breathing snout and powerful jaws?
But the changes were not so... physical.
The anticipation turned andric as Iola's expression contorted, the upbeat joy he constantly felt sickening into varination. Iola's eyes bulged as his neurons were rewired, the new emotions coursing through his mind as familiar and human as chyme was to water.
And then it was done. Though not a single fiber of his perfectly-combed hair was out of place, someone else looked out from behind Iola's eyes.
"Infection complete," the man reported. "Tell me, Iola. How do you feel?"
Iola worked its jaw, twisting it this way and that, until it settled into a dorceless gape.
"I feel humber," Iola said, and the pulsating of his eyes confirmed it. "I feel *good.*"
A.N.
This story is part of Soulmage, a story written in response to writing prompts. Check out the rest of the story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/), or r/bubblewriters for more.
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loj0to2
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loiordm
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[WP] You pretend to be a small-time villain. At most, you annoy the local supers but your crimes never hurt anyone. To you it's all good fun. Things change when a truly sadistic super villain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.
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(Sorry for any spacing and formatting problems, typed this on my phone)
Aidan Maxwell, villain callsign "Lightwave." He was in the middle of his normal hijinks, making people think they're losing it by moving things around without anyone seeing him, taking things and framing others for the infractions to start minor quarrels, and at the very worst nipping in and out of bank vaults to steal enough cash for rent and groceries. He really didn't have a grand plan - he just wanted to live and let live. There were even times when he used his powers to help - stopping a stroller from rolling away, returning a dropped bag, providing a subtle redirect between an inattentive phone-watcher and possible injury
Most days, the heroes didn't even know he was there. This was by design. He could bend light and had grown to the point that he did it without even thinking about it. Two of them, Sadie and Howard Porter, the twins Double Vision, could see through his illusions. When push came to shove, they usually just gave him a stern talking-to. When it came down to it, they were the closest things Aidan had to friends.
News of their sudden and brutal demise at the hands of some new upstart, calling himself Lucifer with no sense of irony or self-awareness, did not leave Lightwave particularly happy. This new, exceedingly powerful villain had torn through the national hero team with wild abandon. He took all challengers who called him out, which was becoming a rarer commodity for him. It came as a shock when no-name Lightwave called him out, but he accepted the challenge all the same.
"I honestly have no idea who you are," Lucifer, a massive armored man, covered in more spikes than a porcupine and enough blades for a daytime shopping channel, "buuuut I figure it could be kinda fun to deal with a nobody villain, make an *example* of ya."
Lightwave stood half a block from the much larger man, slightly slouched, his light gray motorcycle jacket with a squiggly line stitched on its back to represent a wave of light, and seemed to the casual observer to be shrinking away from this terrifying beast, "You killed my friends. I haven't got many of those, y'know." The lights in the buildings nearby dimmed.
"Oh, I can see why, pathetic lookin' thing you are," His armor plates shook with his laughter, "I mean, what do you expect being so quiet and scrawny?"
"They were good people," The lights in the buildings died, "You killed a lot of good people."
"Yeah, I sure did," There was an audible smile in Lucifer's voice, "I think I'll fit a few more in when we're do-"
"You most certainly will not," Lightwave responded with absolute authority, cutting off and shocking the much-larger villain, "Tell me, do you know the actual etymology of your chosen name?" The lights across the entirety of the state dimmed, then winked out.
Lucifer stood taller, "Yeah man, the fuckin' DEVIL man! It's what I aim to-"
"It's Latin. Light Bearer, or Light Bringer. The latter being what I'd chosen for myself before I decided it was too much," The light for half an astronomical unit sputtered and died, "Everyone thinks my power is bending light, which is true to a point. I can manipulate and control photons. You are not walking away from this, you goddamn *monster*."
"Like hell I'm n-"
The sentence died in the air, as Lightwave crossed the entire distance between them in a fraction of a second, unleashing the full power of the light from the palm of his hand straight down on the top of the upstart's head.
Four minutes later, the sunlight managed to return to the Earth, illuminating a man walking from the shadow of monster burned into the melted asphalt.
|
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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ktwd2a7
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ktwaq8j
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[WP] You, a side character, watch in horror as the MC forgives and doesn't kill the main villain, who murdered your friends and family, saying, "If I killed them, then I'd be just like them."
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I was absolutely… pissed.
I glared as the so called Hero Maximus proceeded to hug and forgive a mass murderer. Someone who had called thousands. Someone who killed my FATHER. Some who killed Max’s MOTHER.
I don’t know what happened to me hit something just snapped. I unsheathed my sword and with speed I had never achieved before I blasted forward.
My sword cut through the air as I aimed for the monster. Before I could feel the satisfying slice through that bastards neck, my blade was blocked and deflected away before a kick slammed into my stomach sending me tumbling back.
“Leon WHAT are you doing?!” Max said with some anger in his voice but upon seeing my pissed off face his voice softened as he faced me.
“I’m sorry Leon but we should forgive him, it’s the right thing to do” he said softly as his blade dropped down.
I simply stood to my feet as my gaze finally swapped to Max. He could see the hatred in my eyes and it surprised him.
“I’m not like you Max. He is going to die and I will be today. I am going to kill him. If you want to stop me then kill me!” I said as I shot forward, bringing down an overhead slash at Max.
I liked Max and so all that stroke did was distract him. He jumped back to avoid it and I ran past him whilst he was focusing on dodging. He wouldn’t go all out on me which meant I had a chance.
I was strong but Maximus was on a whole other level. A smirk crossed my features as I appeared in front of the monster.
My sword slashed outwards but it never connected. I would never wield it properly again. I stared in shock as I saw my sword flying away with my hand still gripping it.
I felt pain explode from my wrist as I looked down seeing my hand had been severed. I looked to the right seeing a familiar figure.
A woman, her names was Alina. She was another member of our group. Max had saved her life and she had swore her life to him.
“No!” I heard Max shout as he ran over to me as I collapsed to my knees, I grit my teeth stopping the tears.
Max immediately crouched at my side, a hand on my shoulder. At that moment I saw my chance. I head butted Max in the face, grabbing his Max’s spare sagger before he threw it at Alina.
He then charged at the monster, his spare dagger in his hand as he smirked, plunging it into that monsters chest “die you pathetic bastard!” I shouted as I slammed my body into the injured man.
We both tumbled to the ground, I attempted to get on top of him and use my remaining hand to deal as much damage as possible but I wasn’t able to.
A kick slammed into me as I was sent tumbling away, Alina had recovered. She appeared in front of me and slammed the hilt of her sword into my face.
Dazing and confusing me as I fell back. My head was swimming. He wasn’t dead yet so I couldn’t fall unconscious.
I got up and charged, as I got closer to Alina, blackness took over and I slammed into the ground.
|
It was almost over. It'd been so long but we were so close now. Twenty years spent hunting down this piece of shit. He wasn't getting away this time. Not on my life.
My lungs were on fire. Straight battery acid ran through my veins. My heart was about to detonate. I kept running.
He could only run straight for a bit so I took a chance, raised my revolver and pulled the trigger. Missed. The bullet pinged off a vent just to the right of him.
*Two left! Aim your fuckin shots, you moron!*
I saw the edge of the roof up ahead - he was running out of runway, and quick. I brought my revolver up again, ready to hold it on him when he stopped. But he didn't. He didn't slow down at all and jumped.
I stopped at the edge and took the best stance I could. The gap was across an alleyway and the next building was a story shorter. I could have made it. The fucker made it, too, and stumbled when he landed. I saw my chance, took aim and fired.
My heart just about leapt into my throat when he yelled out and I saw him hit the deck. He was down but he wasn't out. My stomach dropped as I saw him scrambling to get back up on his feet.
That's when Bobby, that beautiful bastard, caught up and jumped across, himself.
*Well, shit, guess it's my turn.*
((Part 1 of ? - just got busy, will add more in replies))
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lwccxvj
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lwc4ml7
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[WP] We invented immortality, but a seemingly random subset of the population is barred from the treatment for 'incompatibility'. Well, you just figured out what incompatible meant.
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They lied to us all. The ones they labelled 'incompatible'. The rich, powerful, and famous all drank the potion of immortality. They gave it to loyal dredges who would slave and work for them for all eternity. The forever downtrodden poor who would live forever and ever at the bottom of society.
But not us. Those top dogs threatened us with death and violence if we were anywhere near a potion distribution centre. A friend of mine was riddled with bullets. His corpse strung up as an example of an incompatible who aspired for what he was not meant to have.
A bunch of us stole a tank. Bulldozed through a distribution centre and took immortality potions for ourselves. How bad could it be? What set us apart from all other humans?
I felt like a god. The burst of energy and power within me was intoxicating. One security guard leapt over the rubble to come at me with a gun, but I extended an arm to swat him aside like an annoying fly. A long, flexible arm with open maws whenever I spread my elongated fingers, each tipped with poisoned barbs.
And I needed more. My compatriots, we came together. Flesh and muscle and bone twisting and breaking, then fusing into one. We were unbeatable. Those awful oppressors who denied us this gift of immortality, we would show them.
They were still humans. Immortals, but human-shaped, with all the limitations that came with it. Being ageless changed none of that.
But we were different. We were truly a god beyond their comprehension. Shoot us, freeze us, lob bombs at us. It barely dented us. That nuclear warhead was something edible. Something that never occurred to us until we crunched down upon it.
Now, we spread the word. We spread our oozing rivers of blood and flesh across the city streets. Tendrils and tentacles curled around skyscrapers to crush them into the ground. More incompatibles would join us as one. Together, we'd take down those who once thought they were at the top.
They were only rich, not powerful. And they would learn to fear the truly powerful like us.
----
[Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, click here for more prompt responses and short stories written by me.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/)
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**Forever and Always**
I thought we’d love each other forever, you and I.
But ‘Til death do us part’ took on a new meaning,
When neither of us could die.
-
Now, I hate you with every fiber of my being.
My soul explodes like angry comets,
When I look at your stupid grin.
-
The way you chew like a slack-jawed horse,
Fills me with unbridled rage.
And yes, it *matters* you left the toilet seat up.
-
I could go on and on. And on.
The ‘pull my finger’ jokes were never funny.
No adult needs to sleep with a fan.
-
But we’re stuck together for eternity,
Doomed to live life alone,
Always and forever.
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joazfr7
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joausjd
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[WP] You are the child of two famous superheroes and their nemesis has kidnapped you in the hopes of getting under their skin. A week later your parents still haven't come to rescue you.
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*They’re not coming.*
I sighed as the realization sunk in, no one was coming for me. Logically it made sense, I mean, I was a joke of a hero. They called me Gizmo since I was really only good for teach support. I hardly ever fought, and when I did my siblings always had to protect me. Usually I just hung back and watched from afar, the most pathetic hero on the planet. Honestly, if it wasn’t for my family, I would never have even dreamed of becoming a hero, but my parents insisted, so there I was. Rotting away in Overcharge’s dungeon.
Like I said, pathetic.
To top it all off, my captor hadn’t given me any new clothes nor the opportunity to change, so I was still wearing my stupid green spandex suit.
I must have looked ridiculous, sitting there curled up on the bed in my cell. Really I was shocked I’d been given a bed at all. From the stories my parents had told me about him, I expected Overcharge to be a sadistic torturer. At first I had rationalized that he needed me in good condition so that my parents wouldn’t go nuclear on him, but Overcharge is no fool. If I had figured out that no one was coming, he certainly had as well.
I sighed again, resigning myself to my fate. I was sure that, any hour now, Overcharge would barge into the cell and shoot, stab, or electrocute me. I had my money on my electrocution, he was an electricity-based villain after all. Our powers were very similar actually, it was only a matter of scale. In another lifetime, he could have been my mentor. I chuckled at that thought, as if anyone would actually waste their time or effort on me.
The lock clicked and a pit formed in my stomach as Overcharge entered the cell. Only, he wasn’t wearing his super suit, or any gear for that matter. Still, his hulking form terrified me. I braced for the end, when he pulled the stool from the other side of the cell and sat down. He looked me up and down, before speaking solemnly.
“The city contacted me, they don’t want you back.”
“Figured as much, so what’s the hold up then? Just get it over with.”
“Get what over with? Don’t tell me that you think I’ll kill you, I may be a villain but I don’t kill kids.”
“Hey, I’m not a kid, I’m sixteen.“
“Exactly. You’re not old enough to vote, or to have graduated high school. By Satan’s Horns, your parents stole your childhood. I won’t steal your life as well. Look, I’ll be straight with you, you don’t have the raw power to be a heavy hitter like myself or your parents-”
“I know.”
“I wasn’t finished. I was going to say that you don’t have to be a heavy hitter to be a powerful fighter. My tech guys have been developing combat drones, and I can teach you how to control them with your power. Even your low voltage shocks are enough to send signals within the drones. What do you say, wanna give villainy a try?”
“I don’t know. My family are scumbags, I’m not naive, but that doesn’t mean I want to kill and steal. I don’t suppose you’ll give me time to think on it, will you?”
“Don’t think of it as stealing, think of it as wealth redistribution. Do you ever wonder where all that money goes?”
“Hookers, blow, and fixing your gear I’d assume.”
“Gods no! Well ok we do do *some* drugs, and some of our people *do* employ the service of sex workers, but consider the amount of money at hand. There is no way we could physically spend literal billions of dollars on deathrays and crack.”
“I don’t know, I can think of a few ways.”
“That is not the point! What I’m trying to say, is that a good portion of the money is given to good causes.”
“Good causes huh, like what?”
“Like services for kid supers forced into heroism.”
“In other words, kids like me? But that’s just more self interest, isn’t it? You just want fewer heroes in your way!”
“Maybe, but admit it, you wouldn’t be a hero if you had a choice.”
He was right, of course. I had a lot to think over.
*two days later*
As the team made our way to the vault, we found an electronic deadlock. Our hostage, a particularly tearful young woman, cried and wailed more about how wrong what we were doing was. Overcharge sparked his power in his palm, and the woman shut up real quick. He gestured for her key card, but it declined. According to the info guy Nautilus, this was common practice and that all key cards in that particular branch had been deactivated.
Overcharge nodded to me, and it was time for my first major criminal act. In this one act, I would kill Gizmo and be reborn as Silver Cypher.
My heart raced, as I sparked the lock and popped it. The team smiled to me as we entered the vault, and I heard Vine Bloom quip “Good eye Overcharge, this one’s a keeper.” I have to admit, that comment made my heart soar. It wasn’t usual that I was actually useful to anyone, though maybe it would be more often with this new team.
As the team started chatting, I quickly shushed them. My gut was telling me that someone was coming, and in the silence I strained my ears and sure enough, footsteps. I’d learned to pick those particular footsteps out from other noises ever since I was little. My family had arrived.
My father was first on the scene, but we were ready for his super speed and Suplex managed to catch him in her gigantic fist. My sister tried to free him with her lasers, but Suplex’s skin is tougher than rock so no dice.
As our main fighters began engaging my siblings, I noticed my mother charging up her ranged attack. I sparked up and sent in my drones.
Keeping my mother occupied with the drones was child’s play, what was more amazing was my ability to control the drones. I didn’t have to fiddle with any buttons or switches, just sparked the remote and the commands were transmitted to the drones. It was so precise, way more efficient than just using the remote normally. The best part was that the remote didn’t have any physical controls, so even if anyone else got their hands on it, it’s completely unusable without my power or at least a similar ability.
My costume had a weighty hood and voice modulator that covered the bottom half of my face. None of them recognized me, it was glorious. I thought about saying something, but Gizmo was dead, and they were all strangers to Silver Cypher.
r/CookieJarOfChaos
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Despite the whole... kidnapping thing, it wasn't going that badly. I mean, sure, I had actually been kidnapped but that wasn't the worst. So far, he'd just kept me locked in a room with an en suite and had meals delivered. It was boring, but not awful.
Then, well, he got impatient. Came storming in. All bluster and bravado. Guess you don't become an evil mastermind by being meek and timid. "Where are Powerman and Starflight?"
That was actually a great question. "Not sure, really. Sorry I can't help."
Doom was tall. Intimidating. Spent my entire life around that. "Sorry? Not going to... beg? Plead?"
"I mean, if I beg and plead, there are two options. One, you kill me anyways and you just were doing a whole cat playing with a mouse bit. Two, you don't kill me and were never going to because you think kidnapping me gets attention but killing me will me they never stop."
He was confused. "Not going to list option three?"
"Which is?"
Doom was still confused. "They bust in all heroic to save you? Or I kick their asses when they try."
I sighed from the armchair. "Hate to break it to you, bud. I didn't get powers. I spent more time with nannies than my parents. They're not coming. When they realized powers were never coming... that was sort of it. They haven't actually been home for a birthday of mine in years. Every Christmas is spent saving the world or doing photo ops with other people's kids. I'm not useful. They once went on vacation with my older brother and little sis and forgot to invite me. They're the special ones. I'm dead weight. They went to the Christmas photo ops. I was home with my nanny."
Doom sat across from me. "They'll still notice you're missing. Go looking."
"No. Maybe. I don't know. I'm in college. We don't talk much. I don't know if anyone realizes I'm missing. If they did... maybe they think it'll be good PR. They only try to save the world and Doom went after their beloved son. They get sympathy. More effective than anything else I can do. They may not come at all, if they even realize I'm gone in the next few weeks. We don't exactly chat much. They only like their powered kids."
He was softening. "How the hell does Powerman neglect his kid and not get dragged in the media?"
"He pays me well to shut up online. Probably still getting his weekly bribe money."
"That's what that was? Not a trust or allowance?"
"Why do you think only two kids are in the news? Golden boy eldest and the spunky teenage superheroine. There's a reason they kept me quiet. I'm an embarrassment. They pay me to go away."
Doom dropped his head. "My life wasn't great. But they didn't keep me around to tell me how much they hate me."
I just shrugged. "There's no reason to keep me here, you know. They won't come for me."
He was torn, but then went to the door. "Go. They'll drop you back off where we grabbed you. Send him back. Plans changed."
Doom walked me right out the door. Had his people drop me off on the street. Grabbed my abandoned backpack and headed back to my dorm room. Apologized for thelast-minute family emergency.
After repacking my bag, I headed to the family home. Walked in. "Hello, Mother. Father. Dear little sister. Guessing you all knew Doom had grabbed me. Don't lie to me. Did you know?"
His mother answered, voice waivering. "Yes."
"I'm disappointed in you. Took a whole week to get Doom to come in the room. Had to wait for the effect to really build up, too. He had spine. Will. Unlike you. Put a knife to your throat."
On command, his younger sister walked to the counter and grabbed a knife and held it to her own throat. "Brandon, please-"
"Shut the fuck up!" I screamed. "Did I talk to you? Did I ask you to speak?" I glared at my sister before turning to my parents. "Did you think he might knock me off? Get rid of me? I am your *son*. Shame on you. Can start to make it up to me, though. Make me a plate for dinner. Serve me a meal."
The room was quiet and I could see my mother's hands shaking. "You're pathetic. Pull yourself together. I expect you to make things up to me. This is not how you treat your family." I was quiet. Waiting. Saw my brother come in, freeze upon seeing me. "Hello, Nathaniel. Come. Take a seat." He stiffly walked over. Kept glancing at our siste. "Oh, right. Put the knife down. Come and sit with us."
She was crying, still. "So. What did I miss? Was gone a whole week. Surely something fun must have happened." I quirked an eyebrow. "Answer me."
"Flought a kaiju."
"Mm. How fun. Whole Power Family adventure." My mother walked over. Put the plate in front of me. "Thank you for the meal, Mother." I leaned over to grab the pepper.
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jtqlcgr
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jtq7y31
|
[WP] During one of your nightly walks, you stumble across a man struggling to rig the underside of a bridge with explosives. He also spots you and the two of you just stare at each other awkwardly, as both of you clearly don't know how to handle the situation or what to do next.
|
Minding my own business on my nightly stroll down the riverbed I see a flashlight shifting under the bridge that leads into the city. I assume it's an inspector, well, inspecting it. It's an old bridge to be fair, and we've had one across town collapse not two weeks ago. As I close in I notice the man isn't donning a reflective vest. In fact, he's clad in all black with a ski mask on.
"Strange attire for an engineer." I call out to the man, who is clearly shocked by my presence.
He drops something from his hand, and turns his head to face me. "I've got a gun, take one step closer and I'll blow your lungs out." he says, placing a hand on his waistband. His voice is shaky as he offers the threat.
"Now why would it come to that?" I reply, cautiously stepping closer.
"Good god, get away!" he shouts back.
"Well you've just threatened me with a firearm, sir. I'm afraid if I show my back to you you'll start blasting away."
"Swear to me you're not one of them." he says. The look in the eye suggests he will not hesitate to fire if I answer incorrectly.
"Do I look like a cop to you?" I offer, slowly opening my coat to show him I'm unarmed.
The man lets out a sigh, throws up his hands in frustration, then beckons me closer.
"What's this business anyway?" I ask.
"Know anything about explosives?" he responds.
"A thing or two I picked up from books. Why do you ask?"
"Well," he says, picking up the parcel he had dropped earlier. "I'm looking to blow this one."
"What on earth for?"
"Coppers drive this route every morning. Timed charges you see." He opens the package. I recognize the contents as plastic explosives.
"Ah, you must be one of those revolutionaries I've been hearing so much about." I say.
"You aren't a snitch, are you?" he says, shooting me an accusing glance.
"I'm sympathetic to your cause, believe that much sir. Just more of watcher than a fighter. You understand." I say back.
We stand there a minute, as an awkward silence falls on the conversation.
I break it.
"What's this about explosives anyway?"
"You see, I can get the damned things to stay in place." he says. He shines his light to the various points where he's already placed some. "I just can't get the timer hooked up properly. Got the time?"
I pull my sleeve up and check my watch. "Quarter past three. May I suggest something?"
"What's that?" he asks.
"You're placing them directly on the support. You'd need ten times the power to blow it from there."
"What do you suggest?"
I begin doing my own inspection of the bridge. It's rather small and showing signs of age. Seems to my eye he'd be doing the good folk of this town a favor by getting rid of it regardless.
"Place them in the middle of the bridge, that's the weak point. You'll be needing a boat or barge to stand on unless you've brought a pair of stilts with you." I look down at his cache of explosives. "By god, couldn't get anymore? That amount wouldn't blow up a bike tire let alone a bridge."
"Times are tough." he says dejectedly.
I place my hand on his shoulder in an effort to comfort the poor lad.
"Tonight's not your night. I suggest you acquire what I've recommended and try again some other time. I'll be passing through here each night around now. If you need anymore help just keep an eye out for me."
"Thank you, sir." he says. He turns and begins to walk off the way I came.
"Forgetting something?" I call out.
"What?" he calls back.
I gesture broadly at the mass of explosives he's left strapped to the underside of the bridge.
"Right, sir. Thank you again sir." he says, hurrying back towards me.
"Good night and godspeed you brave devil." I say to him as he scrambles to collect his items.
I continue along the path, satisfied that my engineering degree did not go to complete waste.
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"Some days you just can't get rid of a bomb," I noted with surreal calm, watching the old, scraggly man strap a collection of C4 bricks to the underside of the bridge. It crossed over the Hillevi River in Macklemore, Arizona, less than a mile away from my house, along the path of one of my favorite walking trails.
Hearing me, he turned and fixed my eyes with his: they shimmered like a fresh graphics card pulled from a Best Buy box, and I suddenly found a deep, tugging desire to leave and forget everything, strong like the compulsion to stop running when you're on a treadmill and start wondering if your legs will buckle and get your knees ground up by the belt because you never wear that damn safety clip.
But I fought it. See, I'm a writer. I do it for a living, and I love it. And these daily walks are coal in the engine of my train of thought. Without the coal, the train doesn't run, and without the train running, the books don't get written. I don't get paid. My family - my wife, my daughter - they don't eat. And my family eats, baby.
"Nah, fuck off, go blow up some other bridge," I commanded.
He blinked, surprised, and climbed down from his perch. I backed up. He stared at me harder, and his shimmering eyes reached anime-girl-looking-at-cute-school-gerbil levels of nonsensical shimmer, which was fucking terrifying in real life, I'll tell you what.
"You...you're not bowing to my commands. You should be bowing to my commands!" the man shouted. His teeth flashed, his incisors longer than normal.
Crazy guy with sharp teeth, or legit vampire? I didn't care. I whipped out my phone. "Listen up, one call from me, and the fuzz will be on your ass. You'd better start talking."
The question of crazy or vampire was answered: with a hiss, he turned into a ton of bats, and flew off. I started to call the cops, and that's when the entire bridge went up in a huge ball of flame.
Suffice it to say, the trail was destroyed, and I can't walk very well after the force of the blast threw me into the rocks beside the trail and crushed a few vertebrae in my lower back to powder.
But that's all right with me, it was all worth it: the train's got enough coal now to last a lifetime.
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mn34izl
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mn2enxv
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[WP] You were a feared pirate captain - until your encounter with the siren. Now you are a married pirate captain with an even more feared female first mate.
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I looked fondly at Irina, snoozing away in her chair. It was rare that she got a good night of sleep. Between the nightmares and the pain, life was hard for her. And I'd have done anything to make it better.
Every so often, she fretted that I'd fallen for her out of pity. For how could a mortal man, hale and whole, who did not burn with lust for anyone, love such a deadly temptress of the sea, and one so grievously maimed as her?
I looked down at the blanket over her lower half. Obscuring not just the wheels of her chair, but the mutilation they'd inflicted on her tail.
Yes, pity had moved my hand when I'd found her in an obscure trade depot, hooks and chains everywhere, with a raging fever from what they'd done to her throat. But in the months since her rescue, I'd come to know the most cunning mind on the seven seas, with a heart that burned brighter than the sun. How could I not fall for her?
I used to raid imperial vessels for their fat holds full of levies and taxes and spice. Now? I did it for her. And every one of her sisters that the empire harvested for pearls and to "make the oceans Man's Domain".
There was a knock at the door, and I opened it swiftly. Our helmsman gave me a nod "The intel was good. One Imperial War Galleon coming our way. If we raise anchor now, we can force it to face the sun as we attack."
I turned to face my first mate. Her eyes were already alert as she tossed the blanket aside. A gravelly, discordant whisper creaked from her lips "Just one? No risk at all then."
I nodded "If you're up for it, the Foghorn's ready for you, dear".
A vicious grin of fangs cracked across her face. "For the empire? I'm always ready to remind them of who they crossed."
Irena couldn't sing anymore. But her wail made even a banshee seem tame. Most ships mutinied and turned over their officers rather than face a hailstorm of our cannons while she blasted their psyche with what remained of her voice. They knew all too well we sailed with a dozen of her Sisters, and that any ship we sunk would feed them very well that night.
I knew these days couldn't last forever. I was surprised as it was that we'd only had to escape the royal armada twice. Someday, our luck, my caution, and Irena's cunning would fail us. But until then, we would stick our thumbs in the eyes of those who believed they were masters of the world.
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I tell this story to all me mates. I try to ease them onto my first mate, while keepin' me reputation.
"I hear this singin' right? I go over there, tryin' to see what it was, and it was very annoying. I see this beautiful siren, singing an otherworldly melody. I tell 'er to stop before I blow 'er brains out, an' she stops instantly. She begs for mercy, an' I let her on the ships, and assigned 'er to gruntwork, to see how she handled the pirate life. When she sank an enemy ship wi'h one whirlpool, that's how I knew it was love. We married, an' that's how she became first mate."
It didn't go like that, however. I was cryin' and blubberin' for mercy instead o' her, but don't tell me mates that. I seen how she ran m' ships, and let me tell yeh, it be brutal. She can sink whole ships, and uses it to terrorize me an' the crew. I'd love to throw 'er overboard, but I don't know if that'll do anything.
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j9yp89n
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j9yffwa
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[WP] You befriended the lonesome girl in your school because no one else was talking to her. While exploring the backyard woods, you both began splashing water on each other from a stream. That was the first time you saw her laugh. And also the first time you saw her blue butterfly wings.
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When Daphne walked, her feet barely seemed to touch the ground.
That was the first thing I noticed when she transferred to our school. There wasn't much else remarkable about her; just another mousy nobody in an oversized hoodie and frayed jeans. Only her blue eyes stood out, and those astoundingly light steps of hers.
I started watching her. The way she bounced into the classroom or queued up at the canteen, her dirty sneakers making nary a sound on the floor. I wasn't sure why that fascinated me so, but it did. No one else seemed to pay her any attention at all.
The mystery nagged at me so much that I approached her and asked her to hang out. Her eyes widened as if I had said something shocking before she gave a shy nod. We went to the park, and I offered her a smoke, and when she wrinkled her nose in disgust, I suddenly didn't feel like smoking anymore.
My curiosity slowly grew into something more. I spent less time sneaking cigarettes behind the school and more exploring the forests bordering the town with her. I was a city girl through and through—or so I thought before I saw how Daphne's face lit up whenever we were outdoors. I didn't understand it but I wanted to see it again and again.
Before I knew it, I became an outcast in our class as well. A year ago, it would have devastated me so much that I would have probably gone full goth and started writing edgy poetry. But Daphne was with me, so I hardly noticed.
One of our hikes took us to a hidden brook deep in the forest. It was spring, and the stream was overflowing with meltwater. Flashing me an excited grin, Daphne kicked off her sneakers, rolled up her jeans, and waded into the stream.
"You're mad," I said, shaking my head. "It must be freezing!"
She threw her arms out and danced along the sandy bank, her bare feet kicking up a spray. "It's not that cold. Come on!"
Perhaps I was going mad too because I found myself a rock to sit on and eased off my shoes. I tiptoed toward the brook and winced as I stepped on a pinecone.
Giggling at my misfortune, calf-deep in the stream, Daphne extended her hand. "Come on!"
Swallowing, I came closer and grasped her hand. Her blue eyes sparkled mischievously, and she yanked me in. I squeaked as I stumbled into ice-cold water, suddenly finding myself inches away from her freckled, grinning face.
"Y-you lied!" I accused, stepping backward. "It's damn freezing!"
"No, it's not. It's refreshing!" Stooping, she dipped her fingers into the stream and splashed me.
I recoiled with a shriek and slipped on a smooth rock, nearly ending up on my butt in the water. "Why, you little..." Cupping my palms, I tossed a handful of water at her.
Daphne gasped, staring down at her soaked hoodie. I opened my mouth to apologize, but then her lips quirked up into an impish grin, and she bent down to reach into the stream.
"No, no, no." I backtracked, half-laughing, half-pleading. "Daphne, wait, truce!"
She laughed gleefully and launched a huge spray at me, soaking me to the bone. I was never one to take it lying down so I returned the favor. Our shrieks of laughter spooked the birds from the nearby trees as we splashed each other like we had gone mad, forgetting how cold it was, and that we had a long way to walk home.
I shielded my face from another icy spray and was about to retaliate, then froze. Something glittered in the sunlight behind Daphne's back. *Wings*, I realized with a skip of my heart, delicate and translucent, only the glittering droplets that clung to them betraying their shape.
A palmful of water splashing my shirt barely registered in my mind. Daphne tilted her head at me, her smile fading. She followed my gaze and gasped, glancing behind her shoulder so quickly I feared she would suffer whiplash. Her eyes widened impossibly, her lips moving without a sound, before she sobbed and sprang to the bank, lightening her steps with beats of her wings.
"Wait," I yelled.
She leapt out of the water and bounded off into the woods like a deer—one moment there, and the next gone. I stared dumbly at the trees, then shivered and waded out with markedly less grace. I wrung out my shirt, dried my feet with my socks, and pulled on my shoes. Collecting Daphne's sneakers, I set off in the direction she had disappeared in.
I found her almost immediately, seated on a fallen log, her translucent wings spread out behind her and quivering lightly in the dappled rays of the sun. Now, I'm no poet, but it was the most beautiful thing I had seen. Even better than Mrs. Kretschmer's face when I got a perfect score on her test.
For a minute, I watched her in silence, then slowly approached. I could tell she knew I was there by the tension in her shoulders, but thankfully she didn't try to run again.
Careful as if approaching a wild animal, I came over and sat down on the log beside her. She looked away, her jaw set and her lip quivering.
"Brought your shoes," I said, setting them down before her.
Daphne nodded as if not trusting herself to speak.
"Good thing you haven't gone far. If you left me here, I'd probably have gotten lost and died from exposure."
She gave a noise halfway between a sob and a laugh. "S'why I stayed. You're hopeless at finding your way around."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I said dryly.
There was a minute of silence where neither of us found anything to say. I couldn't resist surreptitiously eyeing her wings. From up close, I could see that they were faintly bluish, with delicate veins crisscrossing them like filigree.
She shifted, still not facing me. "You must think I'm a freak."
"What?" I frowned. "Don't be an idiot. I'm *freaked out* but I don't think you're a freak. I don't know what to think, but your wings are... well, they're beautiful."
She turned my way at last, her eyes meeting mine briefly, before she looked away with a faint blush. "Thanks."
"Sure." I squirmed, feeling awkward all of a sudden. "So... have you always had them? How come I never saw them before?"
"I wasn't careful enough," she said with obvious frustration. "I was just having so much fun that I forgot myself. Once I dry them, I can hide them again."
*What a shame*, I thought. "What are you, then? Are... are you an alien?"
She stared at me, then burst into incredulous laughter.
I swatted her shoulder lightly, cracking a smile myself. "Come on, it was a legitimate question! I mean..." I gestured at the wings, careful not to touch them even though I really wanted to.
She sobered up and glanced over her shoulder. "No, not an alien. My mother's side of the family is a little... unusual."
"Are they fairies or something?" When Daphne made a conflicted expression, I raised my palms. "It's all right, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
She fidgeted with her fingers. "It's not that I don't trust you. I just never told anyone, and I don't even know how to begin. My mother always made me promise to keep my heritage secret."
I nodded sagely. "I totally get it. My family never talks about Grandpa Tucker either."
A small smile crossed her lips. "Thank you. For being so cool about this."
"Of course," I said, nudging her shoulder with mine. "I mean, you're like my favorite person in the whole world."
My eyes widened as I realized what I just said, but it was too late to take the words back. Daphne's lips parted in surprise as she stared at me. Then she brushed her shoulder against mine in turn, her wings fluttering rapidly.
"You're my favorite person too."
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I'd made myself a promise, during my treatment, that if I ever made it back to school, to a normal life, I'd find someone who needed a real friend, and be there for them. I knew how important that was, how much we all need someone in our life. I certainly had.
So my first week back, I sat with my old friends at lunch, answered what questions I could, and I watched. I watched them, bickering over pointless things, selfish little kids, by the third day, I didn't say a thing and they didn't notice. But I also watched the rest of the cafeteria. I saw a so many little groups, all the classic cliques, and many more I couldn't label so easily, and then I saw her. I remembered her, all the way back to kindergarten. Annie? Amy? I couldn't even remember her name. No one even seemed to notice her. Over that week, people kept bumping her and never apologized, no one spoke to her at all, no one so much as looked at her. I had my target.
The next Monday, lunch came and I walked over to her. "Can I join you?"
She looked terrified. I guess she thought I planned on bullying her. Small mining town like ours, it wasn't something that got corrected as long as no one went to the hospital. Or maybe that's me making assumptions. Finally, she gave a whispered, "okay."
"I feel so guilty, I can't remember your name."
"I go by Mini."
"Like the mouse?" I fought hard to keep it from sounding at all like mockery.
"No?" Sounded like I may have failed.
"Well, that's a cool name. My parents are kinda hippy types, so I'm Libra."
Her eyes went wide.
"Yeah, don't ask about my middle names."
"Name*s*? Plural?"
"I got three."
"I don't have any."
"You want one of mine?"
She gave a small smile. The first I saw.
~-*
It was a few months later that I finally got a laugh. Halloween night was a Friday, and her parents had OKed a sleepover, our first, after getting my parents to promise there'd be no horror movies. It had been an effort, because Mom and Dad seemed to always miss the phone calls from her house. I finally answered one and got Dad on the line.
We had done a bit of goofy teen trick-or-treating on my block, dressed as a witch and a black cat, which my neighbors loved, except Mrs. Winty, who started to lecture us about stealing candy from little kids. I was tempted to sneak back later and TP her house, but another promise from treatment was to be more forgiving.
We spent the rest of the night watching Disney classics, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Aristocats, probably another that I fell asleep to.
Then it was Saturday. A whole day to hang out. Her parents weren't picking her up until after dinner. We watched cartoons and played Parcheesi, then Sorry, then Trouble, just to confirm they were all the same game. When Mom woke up, she made us pancakes for what, by that time, could only be called brunch, except there was no cantaloupe. And then we went outside, planning to walk to the mall.
It was a perfect autumn day. Just a smattering of leaves in the trees, a light frost just leaving the leaves covering the ground. And that crisp air. We walked across the backyard, down into the woods, a shortcut I'd "discovered," when I noticed a small trail leading through a couple years back.
We came to the stream, barely a trickle now, and I kicked a bit of water into the air as I walked over it. She decided to do the same, and splashed me a little. I know it was an accident, with the look of shock and the hand over her mouth. She was about to cry from embarrassment if I didn't do something, so I laughed. "Oh, is that how it is?" I kicked a small splash in her direction.
She grinned, and kicked another at me, already running off down the stream. We went a few minutes with that, chasing each other back and forth. I realized she'd joined me in laughing. I did well at not showing my surprise, both at the laughing, and when she suddenly was a couple inches off the ground, floating on blue butterfly wings.
All those months, no one spoke to her unless I made them. Just like her parents phone calls, I had to intervene. I debated if she was a hallucination, but there were things she knew that I didn't, couldn't. Also, I'm pretty sure my parents wouldn't just humor me for an imaginary friend. Not at this age, even with all I'd been through. So I knew she was special.
When we finally wore ourselves out and collapsed on the bank of the stream, I turned to her and whispered, "So you have wings?"
She blushed, and nodded.
"That's cool. They're really pretty."
"Thanks."
I sat up, hugged my knees to my chest. "I killed myself. It's why I missed the last month of school last year."
"But you're not dead," she said, and put a hand on my knee to help herself up.
"I was. Heart stopped and everything."
"They brought you back."
"Maybe. Sometimes I'm not so sure. Do you remember playing hide-and-seek in kindergarten? Do you remember all the good spots?" I turned to see her face now.
"... yes?" She looked like she was working out a math problem.
"Where was your favorite spot?"
"The cubby's don't come all the way to the wall, and if you get next to them, and the class door is open, no one can see you."
I pictured the room in my head, pictured coming in and putting my lunch in my cubby, just inside the door. She was right. I could see the gap. Too narrow for me to hide in now, but perfect back then. But I could picture our names, too. Alphabetical order. Katy, Libra, then Lucas, Luka, Mark C, and a new row with Mark R, Mark S just below mine, then Mira, Morris, Nancy.
"What’s your name?"
"I go by many." She took my hand and was helping me up.
"Not like the mouse."
"Not like the mouse." She sounded older.
"And no middle names."
"Another like me, we'd balance you out."
"Is there another like you?"
"There's no one like anyone."
"Thank you, for being my friend."
"Thank you, for talking to me."
We headed for the mall.
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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?"
Silence descends upon the bar, as every two-bit villain and evil mastermind in this shithole turns a wary eye at the distraught hero, Starscream.
He glares back, his face twisted in rage and despair as tears fall down his cheeks. A nervous energy buzzes across the room, the tension thick enough to cut with a dull knife as the time passes in silence.
Fuck me, what the hell could've gotten the Golden Boy of Metropolis this angry? I take a sip from my drink to hide my nervousness, fighting back my grimace as the noxious taste of old dirt and lime assaults my senses. For what feels like the fifth time today, I regret ordering this shit just because it was expensive. Should've just gotten the seltzer.
Toxic Ooze slowly gets up from his chair, holding his bubbling hands up to not set off the boy wonder. We all know just how strong he really is. Thank whatever heavens spawned him for his "code" of not killing.
"Did what, Starscream?" He bubbles in a wary tone. The tension increases, hands moving to wrap around sci-fi weapons and muscles bulging in case shit goes south. "We haven't got a clue what you're so mad about."
Starscream turns his rage at Toxic Ooze, his teeth clenched, a hiss escaping from him as he tries to talk through his anger.
"Don't fuck with me, Jurgen! This isn't a game anymore!"
Oh shit, he's not just mad. He's _mad_ mad. Using real names is, like, our one big no-no. I mean shit, I was at Toxic Ooze's daughters bar mitzvah, and I don't even call him Jurgen when the mask is on.
I put down my glass of expensive mud and press a button on my cuff, holding back a grimace as enough steroids to kill a herd of hippos (we tested it) pumps through my veins.
Toxic Ooze lets out a sigh, his arms starting to bubble and his eyes narrowing as he prepares his paralyzing gas. "Fine, _Michael_. Which one of us did _what?_"
Starscream clenches his jaw, his fists shaking as his tears pour out like a river.
"Which one of you bastards slept with my wife?"
Oooooh, shit. This just got juicy.
Michael lets out a sob, as every villain in this joint shares a _look_. The sounds of weapons getting dropped, magic being cancelled, and tables being lowered clangs through the place as we all lay a sympathetic eye on the poor boy wonder.
Toxic Ooze stops bubbling as he scratches the back of his sludgy head. "Shit, Michael... I'm... I'm sorry to hear that, man."
Starscream... No, Michael, lets the flood gates loose, his body shaking and his words hiccupping as tears fall down to the floor.
"I... I just... She..."
Toxic Ooze glides up to the poor man, wrapping a slimy arm around his shoulders.
"Hey, man. It's okay. We understand. This really sucks."
Michael tries to say something, choking on his words. Giving up, he just nods, leaning into Toxic Ooze's embrace.
Toxic Ooze wraps him in a hug, and Michael just folds into it. Toxic Ooze gives the best hugs.
"Hey, there we go. Don't cry. We're here for you." He stares up at us, his eyebrow cocked questioningly. "Right, fellas?"
The room explodes in noise, every villain nodding their head or crying out in support for Michael. He's a good kid at heart, and honestly, this game would be boring without him.
I mean shit, at the end of the day, we're all just really in it for the money. We rob the damn banks every week, or the "priceless artifact" museums, and they just claim the loss from insurance, inflating the "value" they claim they lost and pocketing the difference. The cops don't even try to stop us anymore after the banks and businesses just started bribing them to _not_ stop us.
The masks and villain speeches and fights for justice vs evil just keeps this all interesting. We get our money, and as long as we keep our mouths shut, the golden boy gets to stay the hero, and that seems to make him happy.
"Come, come. Sit down." Toxic Ooze says softly to Michael. "Let's grab you a drink. Tell us what happened."
He guides Michael to a chair, setting the man down gently and sitting across from him. Everyone leans forward, eager to hear what happened.
"I... I just... I found..." he lets out some hiccups, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. Scarlet Witch hands him a napkin, laying a comforting hand on his back. "I walked in and... And I saw her..."
Toxic Ooze leans in closer. "Saw her?"
Michael lets out a wail, his head falling down on the table.
"I saw her in bed with a villaaaaiiin!"
Gasps ring out across the bar, every villain here muttering in anger and shock. The men here like him, after all, considering he gives them a good fight and is a good sport about it to boot. Most of the women even _like_ him, thanks to his golden locks and striking good looks. Hell, some of the men _like_ him too. What dumbass would throw that away to sleep with a _villain?_
I get up from my chair, trying my hardest not to crack my head against the ceiling after the massive growth the steroids gave me. I pull out a chair next to Toxic Ooze, sitting daintily on it to try not break it, and clap a meaty hand on Michael's back.
"Tell us _everything_. We'll get that bastard for you."
My fellow villains let out a round of cheers, priming their lasers and pulling out explosives of all kinds.
"And ditch the wife! You can do _so_ much better!" Scarlet Witch shouts, giving Michael some encouraging pats on the back.
All the women and some of the men cry out in agreement.
Toxic Ooze nods.
"Forget that slag. We're here for you, man."
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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 everyone’s 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 it’s 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.
“I let you bastards exist out of kindness and decency!” Rocket Man bellowed to the room in a manor unbefitting. Everyone present has heard him get angry and upset before… but not this.
“R-rocky, we don’t know wh-“
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.
“Not. One. **WORD.** From any of you unless it’s a confession or information. **WHO?! FUCKING WHO?!**”
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 Man’s 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.
“P-p-please! I-I-I-I did-dn’t kn-n-n-now!”
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. He’ll take himself in! He’ll resign immediately! He’ll abandon everything and leave! Anything!
All fell on deaf ears.
“The 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..”
Rocket Man released his grip.
“They’re not worth playing with.”
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mvspskl
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[WP] The real reason you hate the villain is because they forced you to be the hero.
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The Major directed me to the cell he was in. Water bled through the walls at this level of the prison. Four Constable Mark IVs followed behind, each one was the result of R&D costing more than the annual GDP of a small country. "I'll remain outside, if anything were to go wrong the cell will be flooded with Chlorine gas at a concentration of 100,000 ppm. It'll stay like that for 30 minutes, which then the sanitation process would begin." He scanned his iris and entered a code, causing a Nuclear blast graded door to slowly hiss open. When were on our way again he continued, "After the two-hour sanitation, we'll open the hatch and these bad boys," the Mark IVs "will enter and retrieve your body." He stopped in front of the cell "So don't let anything go wrong.
He slept on the floor, underneath his twin-sized bed, the only dark place in the cell, I guess they didn't turn the lights off. "Get out." He said openly.
"No." After a brief pause, laughter began emanating off of the walls. He climbed out from underneath the bed looking rougher than ever. "Son. Of. A. Bitch." He said, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" It was rhetorical.
"Move over," I said, he slid down the mattress patting the empty spot next to him. "Look, a new guy is causing some problems on the surface and he has some of your designs, and the SECDEF wants to know how." He looked at me.
"Really? That's why you're here?" He laughed heartily, "We both know that's not the reason."
"Oh?" I responded, he cut me off before I could get another word,
"Why are you here?"
I clenched my jaw, "People are in danger." I said half-heartedly, "This infor-"
"Oh, cut the fucking act, will you? You don't give a rat's ass about anyone but yourself."
"And you do?"
"A hell of a lot more than you do! So what, some asshole stole my plans. If you don't recall; You people took them the minute I got stuffed away down here. We both know some dejected DOJ employee with too much access just wants to make a name for themselves. You want some help with this new guy? How about you do him like you did me?" I stayed silent, "Huh? Cat got your tongue, motherfucker?"
"You got a lot of nerve, you know that?"
"I do?"
"Yeah, you fucking do!" I stood up.
"Please enlighten me."
"You act like it's my fucking fault that you're down here. You love handing out blame like it's a free fucking sample!" I lowered my voice, and stuck my finger in his face, "Well, let me help out for a change. How about you look in the mirror? And maybe, just maybe you'll find the only Goddamned person responsible for fucking up your life. You!" I breathed heavily, waiting for a smart response, but none came.
"I just wanted to help." He looked down. "There are so many rules, so many safeguards. Everything needs to be tested, and tested again, and again, and again. I would've saved lives. Yeah so what, I didn't call the FDA, or file a patent, it would've been years, so many would've died. Maybe the dose was wrong, and the formula was a bit off. They were going to die anyway, the trade-off made sense."
"Why did you run?" I asked, taking back my seat. "I could've helped you."
"I couldn't let you be complicit. It wouldn't have been fair to you, to Mom." he sighed, "You think I wanted this? For all my intelligence, I panicked, I went off the deep end and didn't even realize I was drowning until it was too late."
"I would've helped you anyway. I hate being the poster boy. I can't stand getting a call every time an asteroid is going to hit Earth. Or some asshole wants to see the world burn. I didn't want to be a hero, that was always you."
"His name is Victor Holland, he works at Krios Corp." I knew it was the end of the conversation. I stood up, and looked at the camera, the cell door begin to hiss open. "Hey," I stopped outside the door, "Don't come back, brother."
|
Another goddamn awful day has passed.
Robberies, kidnappings, hostage situations, fights, arguments, cats in trees...houses in flames, dams breaking and rivers out of control...
All and more under my jurisdiction.
Why?
Because I am the Hero.
And every day that passes I resent the one who is responsible for this: the Villain.
I don't care that they do what they do, because it's obvious they won't be a Saint.
Killing, kidnapping, stealing and so much more is their normal behavior...and I would have been happy to stop them...
If it were not for the fact that I abhor the idea of being a Hero.
A mascot of "justice" running around doing good deeds for nothing.
While people starve, I am to run around solving crimes, and fighting idiots who can't control their emotions...
And the Villain in this case I hate the most...became a villain just to force me become a Hero.
It's not a lie, nor do I imagine it.
She became a Villain, because she didn't want to be a Hero, and knew that I had the making of one.
So she left in the middle of the night, killed our town's police chief...and fled.
My dear sister...
Ever since then I was hunting her, but it was too late.
After our very first fight, I have been labeled as a Hero, taken in for questioning by the government, and given a license to practice "heroism"...
My life, my dream...was dead.
A lovely childhood, loving parents, an awesome bigger sister.
I awakened my powers shortly after her, and we were all so...happy.
I wanted nothing more than to become an architect...to build, to create...
She on the other hand wanted nothing more than to marry rich, and raise children, to become a perfect lazy housewife she used to call it.
Then...our family was hit by a calamity, and our parents...died.
It didn't take long for the toll of it to hit my sister, as she cried and cried for someone to save us.
Nobody came...so she took things in her own hands.
Becoming a Villain and forcing me to be a Hero.
She runs around the world, every now and then appearing, putting me into the spotlight once more...
She is...always on the move.
Me on the other hand, I hunt her, I hate her...and I want to save her, for this...this is not what we have dreamed of, neither of us.
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jbd75rs
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jbd69ym
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[WP] The elven children have a ceremony to summon their spirit animals. Most get unicorns, phoenixes, fire salamanders etc. One kid ends up summoning a human, smoking a cigar and sporting a hefty shotgun.
|
Five elven children sat in the woods. There were 5 tree stumps laid out in front of them in a circle and a glyph carved into the dirt between the stumps. Each sat in front of one, eyes closed and whispering an ancient rite.
This was the Familiar Ceremony. Each Elf would summon a familiar attuned to a certain element that most aligned with the elves strengths and their needs.
The first elf, a girl of 16, wearing a silk dress and fine jewelry, a clear member of the higher class, who went by the name of Presta Polena, was very proper in her incantations. Just before she had made fun of one of the other girls in the ceremony and was generally unpleasant to be around. The small creature that appeared upon her stump was a fairy. An impish creature that was as pretty and rotten as her master, but it was clear it was an emissary of nature.
The next, a boy donning an ancient carved mask, but on the side of his head as to keep his face revealed, with clothing made of leaves and other natural material, who was generally a serious and heroic man, despite being 14. His father was a warrior, his father’s father was a warrior, and his father’s first son was a warrior, and it was clear that he would follow soon. Standing beside this boy, was named Noren Alad IV, a suit of armor appeared, instead of on the stump. It’s only bearer being a ghost that none could see. It stood in solidarity beside the boy- they both understood they would become the most daring of allies. Though it wasn’t exactly an element per se, the ideal of honor and justice was manifested in this specter, and that was an attribute that the familiars could embody.
Then was Eria Jeris, who was also 16. He was fairly unnoticeable, save for his clear strength and the deep soot engraved in his face and body. Even after washing up for the ceremony, it was clear that he had spent much of his life by a furnace, even if he was only 16. Unsurprisingly, a small dragon appeared on his stump. The fire of the dragon suited him better than his own forging equipment.
The 4th was another girl, but of 15, and she was the one who Presta was making fun of. She was wearing a run-down dress that was a little too big for her, but had many pins stuck in it to tighten it. Her hair was short, but rolled into a bun. She generally gave the appearance of one who isn’t accustomed or able to live a life of fancy, but is certainly trying their hardest for the occasion. However, the familiar that was summoned by this girl, her name being Aleca Hunnba, was unlike any other. It was a man. Just a regular human, with a cigar and some strange apparatus slung over his shoulder. He was definitely a spirit, because his complete lack of interest in the situation implies that this was expected for him.
“‘Sup kid. You were the one summoned me?” The man said in a gruff voice.
“W…what? Summoned you? But you’re not even a familiar, you’re just a human!” Aleca exclaimed.
“Oh trust me, I’m more familiar than anything else you’ll ever know. Something tells me we’re gonna get along kid.” The familiar replied.
“W…how can you tell?” Aleca asked, still a bit fearful.
“‘Cause…” The main explained as he got up, “I can’t be summoned unless it’s by someone who gets me.” He stretched his legs against the tree stump. “You’re fed up with everyone else. You’re sick and tired of pretending to be forgiving and agreeable. You just wanna see them all hate you, even if just for a second. You don’t care, you just want to be left alone to your own devices.” He paced around the summoning circle, stopping for a moment to stare down the suit of armor and nod in respect.
“How… that’s… yeah, you’re right. But still, how are you a familiar? You’re just a human, aren’t you?”
“Familiars can be anything, kid. So long as they embody an element of attribute that is generally revered. Fire, water, nature, power, justice…” he looks towards the suit of armor again, this time with much more friendly reverence, “honor…” and the suit of armor put a gauntlet against its chest.
“The reason why I’m so hard to summon is because I’m generally not revered. Ysee, kid, what I am…” he chuckles for a second, “I am that feeling of not giving a shit anymore.”
|
The teacher had left him alone she didn't say he was in trouble, but he knew that look. That was look Fa'bei'on got when he did something un elf like. She was probably sending a letter to his parents now. He was going to hear about this mishap for ages.
And it wasn't his fault he didn't write the stupid spell that picks out friendship companions. well it was a little his fault. He didn't want a unicorn because he didn't want to braid hair, birds always pooped on him, and lizards skin peeling off always Creeped him out.
But there was thousands and thousands of other things that should have come instead. Like a fire puppy or a kitty with wings. He would have been happy with a plain old fashioned otter.
He was so lost in his own head that the door opening nearly had a him fall out his chair.
It was Ms Summerfall Shadow Wind of spring.
The GuidanceGuidance teacher.
His day couldn't get worse.
"Círdan. I am here for a little talk. You aren't in any trouble. " She gracefully sat down. "Círdan" she took a long deep breath that looked like she was finding the right words. She seamed to settle on an approach. Then locked eyes with the young student.
"You know you can't fuck this companion right? You know its just magic shaped like a human. It will talk act and behave like a human untill it stubs its toe too hard . Then it will just poof away. " She rolled her wrist in the air. "Then when you summon another. It will be different one that answers the call untill it knocks it head against a door frame and that one poofs away. So On and on and on." She seemed oblivious to the shade of red Círdan was turning. "And while it extremely impressive you managed to summoned a complex creature such as a human. And we are aware children your age start having urges. It is illegal to have sex with illusions, summons as well as conjured creatures.
And if you are found to even attempt such and act you will have your magic Bound"
Círdan after what felt like a year and as red he was since she started he had to admit what he really wanted at the summon. "Ms Summerfall Shadow Wind of Spring, I wanted something that would permanently get me out of archery classes. It's my worst class I keep pulling the string across my arm. I was sick of it. So I thought I ask ask for , something loud, annoying to others. And make archery class redundant."
The Guidance teacher gave him a long long look over. With a deep breath she stood. "Sure you summoned a human. To avoid a class if that's the case you will have no problem explaining that to your parents, after they get our letter explaining we gave you the magic summons talk."
Círdan sighed his day got worse.
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lxxcx12
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lxwooyc
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[WP] You clocked in like any other day. Grabbed a cup of coffee, walked to the lab, and entered JUST in time to see Ted press the red button.
|
Force field barrier winked into existence almost instantly, caging him in. "Shit! Ted why did you do that!?” I gasped and ran up to a nearby console, keeping an eye for any signs of warning or alarm.
"Uh.. Pat? Help me out here? What's going on!?” Ted cried out in alarm as amber beam begin wiping across his body. Several lines popped up in the log. ***Scan complete. Baseline stable. Encoding.***
"Whoa! Please hel-" A second wave of beam scythed rapidly across Ted's body. I barely had time to make eye contact and then he was gone in a flash. Not a trace left. ***Progress complete.***
Not a moment later the research team barged in through the door. "Goodness that button is loud. Status? How bad?" The team lead asked as the techies begin cordoning off the faux station Ted was messing with. "Uh... All system's... green!?" Unexpected. "Confirmed, all systems green, transfer error rate at 0%” another researcher chimed in on the report. The plan still had 3 weeks to prepare. "Awesome." the lead quipped. "Where's Ted?"
"ElizaBeth is already on him. Hang on, let me bring up the camera." A few key presses later and the central display changed into a scenic view of a lush gold fields of a what appears to be a farmland. Two children dressed in colourful fantastic outfit along with an inquisitive pegasus fussed over Ted. Telemetry of his consciousness stabilized as the A.I. begin guiding him around. The team afforded ourselves a round of applause.
After decades of effort, with some founding members pretty much old bones by now, the project finally entered the alpha test stage with live subjects without a hitch, if you gloss over the premature start. Once we give it a thorough test and compile all the data, the ISEKAI Project will finally have the legitimacy to go public.
Of course we still have the issue with reconstructing a physical body, but that can wait. After all, simulating a real world for the affected is but a trivial matter. The potential of mind transference system and simulated world system is pretty much limitless. The entertainment oriented project is just for us to kick off a new frontier.
Unfortunate for Ted, but he did try to pull a fast one over Those Who Plan. Suffice to say, that seat was reserved and there's only one candidate for it.
|
And I think not this s**t again, but at least this time I have coffee and a maple donut to keep myself occupied while I’m stuck in here with Ted. For the third f*****g time this month. I hear the doors behind me lock in place, the steel window blinds grind down the floor to ceiling windows. The alarm goes off like it’s sole purpose is to drown out every thought I’ve ever had. 10 more minutes of the blissful escape the alarm provides before it’s 3 hours of listening to Ted talk about his 50+ year old sour dough starter. I know this dude isn’t actually color blind as he says. He’s pressing that d**n button on purpose. It’s the only time he’s able to banter on about his perfected feeding schedule for the sour dough. I guess, in a way I feel sorry for Ted.
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kfxjngh
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kfxgv55
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[WP] Being immortal can get dull. In order to spice things up, every 100 years you create a main goal to works towards. In the past you have been the most revered ruler and another time the most sought after sword maker. It has once again been 100 years and it is time to make your new goal.
|
"I once (very foolishly) wished that I could live forever. Never to age, never to fall ill, never to die. I've fallen in and out of love countless times until I felt that there was no longer a heart to give.
And I was empty.
I walked amongst mankind with no heart nor motivations. I was a living shell of a man, and I regretted my wish immensely. Until a man offered me a sword and told me to fight with him. Out of pure boredom, I humored him.
I picked up his blade and learned its dance. I fought for that man for half a century, until he (as everyone eventually does) passed. Leaving me with his blade and his final wishes, I spent the better years of the next half a century honing my craft and pouring over his will, and when I was ready I set that land ablaze per his request. As a man of my word I did everything in my power to honor his wishes, and I reshaped the land in his image.
I was first a boy.
Then a lover.
Then a tyrant.
On that throne I saw the world bow at my feet. People would grovel at my throne, just to weep in being in my presence. They revered me as one would a deity- though, given my ability to never age- I was just that. And I detested it. There was no joy in conquering that land, nor making those around me cower like animals. Power no longer felt gratifying.
So,I left.
Turning to the sword, yet again, I decided that I needed to do something that would keep me from losing myself to my old ways. I learned the ways of the forge. My hands calloused over time, and so did my resolve of being a smith. I watched as my creations would go on to mow down armies and slay innocents. There was no honor in killing, and no honor in creating murderers.
First a boy.
Then a lover.
Then a tyrant.
Then a smith.
I left the forge too. I became a philosopher. Then a writer. Then a poet. And for the last century deigned to find you." I said, my voice wavering towards the end.
The woman in front of me gave me a twisted grin.
"You asked of me a wish and I granted it in return for your waterskein. Are you not fulfilled?" The crone asked, licking her cracked lips.
"Not in the slightest."
She scoffed. "Then what would you have me do now."
I mustered up every ounce of dignity I had left. "I wish for you to make me a man."
The two of us were silent for a while before I heard her raspy laugh. "You certainly have the parts of one, boy."
Fuming I opened my mouth to speak, but found I was not able.
"'Make me a man', you say. Are you not one already? Did your wish make you a tyrant, or make you a smith? Did your wish rob you of your identity?" Her smile widened revealing blackened, rotting teeth. "Did you come find me for the sake of preserving your soul?"
"I came so you could remove this blasted curse!" I yelled.
With a voice so cold that it could freeze vodka she said: "It was never a curse. It was a blessing, which you squandered.
I watched you wander the world aimlessly for centuries. I watched as you fought for a cause you didn't believe in, become a tyrant on an iron throne and abandoned the people that you vowed to protect. I watched as you became the smith, then the philosopher, writer, and poet. And you have learned nothing.
All those centuries of living, not once have asked yourself the question why. Why do you want to live? What are you living for?
You ask me to make you a man. Now I ask, what for?"
The woman was no taller than my chest, yet in that moment I felt remarkably small.
"I want to live as a man would. Experience the world through the eyes of someone knowing that their time is limited. I want to be able to find my heart again, and perhaps find someone in that brief time who I could cherish. I want to be able to spend this last century living for myself."
"You will grow old and die."
"I know."
"You cannot undo a wish like this."
"I understand."
She sighed. "Very well. I will make you a man."
|
Emperor. Lord. Ruler. Priest. Vassal. Smith. Tailor. Scientist. Doctor. I had been so many things in the past few hundred years that it was hard to keep count of the titles I’d borne. I was a fresh, sweet little thing once. So wide-eyed and bright about the possibilities of a world filled with an endless existence that I thought I’d surely never run out of things to do. The advent of technology throughout the years had done much to appease my boredom, and it brought so many wonderful new ideas into my head.
In the last hundred years I’d been working on being the worlds greatest horse breeder, it had been all the rage in the early 1900’s, I had come to see the rise and advent of television and film. It was truly fascinating. Seeing such individual mortal lives emblazoned on a screen that was larger than the building, stretching from floor to ceiling, and there they were. True celebrities. Individuals so dazzling that artists throughout history had to capture their likeness in film for everyone to see.
The years were coming to a close on my latest venture, and I was mere days away from choosing my newest leap into the mortal world. I’d been adored so many times before, owning this corner of the world, or having some civilization tossing roses at my feet, but I’d never had the worldwide influence I’d craved since I gained immortality. Merely once I wanted everyone to be aware of who I was, and to love me completely for what I say. I wanted my words to be emblazoned on history, and for my visage to carry on for years into the future. I’d been many things, but I had never been immortal and eternal in the history books.
This century would change all of that. This century, I’d place myself in the annals of history. I realized not too long ago that being on the silver screen wouldn’t be enough, but I would need my presence to inspire distinct emotion. The idea of it was something that elated me beyond measure. I felt as if I’d discovered godhood all over again.
In this next century, I would make myself unforgettable. As I finished my account and checked my phone for any final tweaks, I laid my head onto my pillow and prepared for a nights rest. In the morning, my next century long quest would begin, and before the world would understand what was happening it would know my name.
This century would be the century I would go viral.
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l3jejjy
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l3ixdsy
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[WP] You are a terrifying creature from the forest hiding as a human, in the human world, amongst other humans. The problem is: now your human friends find out what you actually are.
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The Stryge was more terrified than terrifying creature in its current state. The proverbial pitchforks of angry humans of ages past were out, now replaced by guns and their reckless wielders.
Her former friends had gathered a furious mob outside, banging on my church door incessantly. According to one of the humans, the Stryge had infiltrated this meetup group of board game players and assumed a human guise to lull them into a false sense of security. All to suck their blood when they least expected it.
It was an impromptu trip to the Dark Forest that one of them suggested that started the incident. Let's go to the place that inspired the Tales of Tattlewood tabletop game. The Stryge didn't want to go. Those human friends, though I wouldn't call them real friends, dragged her along for the ride. Without the proper forest trekking equipment or a guide, it was practically begging for trouble. Which came in the form of a nasty fall down a slippery cliff.
Unable to hold back her thirst for blood, the Stryge lapped at the wounds of her friend. Who's currently alive and well. Despite the more primal urges within, she had resisted the temptation to suck him dry.
Not that it stopped the others from calling the cops and the monster hunters to get her. Fearing that they would shoot her the same way one would put down a rabid animal, she came to me.
"If you're a friendly neighbourhood eldritch like you say you are, Elvari, hand over the evil blood sucking monster!"
These humans seem to have forgotten I am friendly to *all* who come to my neighbourhood without ill intent. Regardless of race and species. Not just humans.
"There is no evil monster in my abode," I replied. "The creatures who are permitted to stay in Innsmouth co-exist with humans peacefully."
"Then open the door and let us in!" The mob screamed, a flurry of guns waving in the air dangerously. Sooner or later, one of them is more likely to shoot themselves by accident than —
BANG!
A shot rang out in the air. No sooner than the thought came to my head that someone quite literally shot themselves in the foot.
Frantic shouts filled the atmosphere. The words drowned out by rampant panic as humans scattered to leave one injured human yelling profanities as he lay on the ground bleeding.
I called for an ambulance and carried the man in despite his loud protests that he would rather limp than have a monster god help him.
"Suit yourself," I said, loosening my tentacles and almost dropping him to the ground. "Walk to the infirmary if you can."
"Okay, okay! I take it back!"
There, we both saw the Stryge sneaking a peek when I made the injured man comfortable on a bed.
"So you do have Damassa hidden here after all, you tentacled terror!" He snarled while clutching his leg wound.
I bonked him lightly with a ceremonial staff. "You two know each other?"
"He was the one who called the monster hunters to kill me!" The Strye pointed a finger at him. "Some friend you are!"
"You're a shitty friend too!" The man hollered. "You never told us you're a murderous monster of the Dark Forest!"
"I didn't murder anyone!" She shouted back. "I caved in a bit to lick Danny's blood, but he's alive and well!"
"Quiet, don't aggravate your injury," I bonked the man again and gestured for Damassa to return to the room I rented out to her.
The man rubbed the sore point where I hit him. "What was that for?"
"That is for being a monster."
"What are you talking about? She's the monster, and so are you."
"Not all monsters are creatures who lurk beyond the Veil," I snarked. "Some are humans who live in town."
------------------------
[Thanks for reading! Click here for more prompt responses and short stories featuring Elvari the eldritch god.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/comments/11tkt9w/eldritch_god_elvari_series/)
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It was a small tremor. Many San Fran natives wouldn't even have noticed it. But something shifted. Possibly the ley line under the San Andreas fault. The first thing we both noticed was the TV going off.
"Oh man! I was winning!. It was the last lap and for once I was winning!!" my friend Carl yelled into the darkened room.
As he stood though, he felt the last of the tremor. "Whoa. So that's what a quake feels like!"
"Yeah, usually the small ones don't kill power for very long. Lemme find a flashlight." I said.
First, I felt it in my core. Whatever had shifted the ley line was affecting my camouflage! I might have only seconds or it could be like '98 when the power stayed out all day. Then I began to feel it externally, my disguise was a multi-layer spell and bits of it were failing. My real form was larger than a human and not at all the same shape.
"What is that noise?" asked Carl. "Is this building safe?"
My bones were rearranging, and Carl could hear it!
"Don't worry! This place survived the Great Quake back in 1906. It's just 'settling' a bit. Always does that. I'll run down and grab a light from the kitchen."
"Man that is the weirdest noise. Hope you're right."
I grabbed the knob and twisted but nothing happened. The place actually had shifted! To the point I couldn't open the door!
"Oh wait. I think there's one in the closet. Sit down and stay put." I told Carl.
I turned to my left, and felt along the wall. In reality I could see just fine, but then I felt something else, a draft tickling my ears. The spell was in tatters, my real face showing. Carl's gonna freak!
I tried the closet door and to my relief the shift hadn't affected it's frame and it came open easily.
I closed the door behind me and Carl asked "Why'd you close it if you're just getting a light?"
"Uh, it keeps the walls stronger if there's an aftershock!" I yelled back over my ever widening shoulder.
Suddenly I could see a glimmer of light under the door.
"Oh, hey they're back on dude!"
Suddenly the door opened and I held a large paw up to shield myself from the light.
Carl was beyond shocked. I expected screaming, fainting, perhaps even grabbing something and attacking me.
What I didn't expect was...
"Wait! Dude! You never told me you were a furry!"
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mj32gm7
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mj2pa8w
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[WP] In a last ditch attempt to save your people, you offer your life to an ancient god of war and blood. Unfortunately your translation of the ancient text was a bit off. You're married now.
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"O Lady Ishtar,
I beseech thee,
Save my people and kin,
Bring ruin to mine and thine enemies,
I offer thee my life and soul forevermore,
May it pleases thee, o mighty Goddess"
As I finish the ritual rite, I await the response. Even as I, the Prelate of the Church of Ishtar, bow my head on the sacrificial altar, the sounds and ringing of battle echo from the walls. The desperate struggle of my people against the horde of barbarians, united in hate.
As the tune of battle reaches a fever pitch, suddenly, the world was muted.
With my head still bowed, I still notice the brilliance. Gods above, the ritual works, She descends!
An overwhelming presence fills the room. Slowly, a voice rings.
"Well, well, well. It seems that finally somebody did that ritual."
Listening in servile obedience, I respond softly.
"Welcome, o mighty Goddess. Is my offering acceptable in return for thy protection of my kinsman?"
A moment's silence. She deigns to respond.
"Your offering is accepted, your kinsman are now empowered by my blessings and strength. May they bring victory and praise my name. Behold!"
A shining brilliance fills the space behind me. Turning slightly, I see that there's a floating distortion in the temple, and from within that distortion, I can see the battlefield. My kinsman, my fellow citizens, are rising up and pushing the barbarians back. Nay, pushing them back? They're jumping down the walls and actually chasing those barbarians back to their siege camps? What in the world? Is this what She meant by Her blessings? Truly She is the Goddess of War and Victory!
Sobbing, knowing that my life has now reached it's end in exchange for the safety of my family and my little siblings, I acquiesce to my fate. Slowly, i turn back to the Goddess, my head still bowed.
"My gratitude, o mighty Goddess. And if it pleases thee, please take thine offering."
In my bowed state, I set my hair to the side, baring my neck for her blade.
I waited and waited. Then I heard her muttering.
"What nonsense is he talking about? And why is he still bowing like that? I like my man soft and gentle, yes, but not servile!"
Confused, I waited.
And waited.
Until I couldn't wait no more.
"Goddess? Isn't my life forfeit?"
A heartbeat's pause. She starts to laugh, from a slow giggle to a hearty guffaw, oh, such glorious guffaws.
"Oh, my dear sacrifice, let me put this straight, when you did the ritual, you thought it meant it was a blood sacrifice?"
Already irritated and nervous from the long wait, I retorted.
"Wasn't that what you said to the past oracles?"
She guffaws again.
"No my dear, I said 'offer your life to me forevermore'. I didn't say 'Die for me'. Slight semantic difference, but it IS a difference."
Confused, I respond.
"I don't understand, isn't offering my life means to die on the altar for you?"
Oh She's cackling now.
"Such an adorable person. No, my dear, it means you're offering yourself as my husband. And I'm accepting your offering."
Thunderstruck, I clammed up. It was a long moment before I actually found my voice.
"WHAT! THE! FUCK? That was a marriage ritual? Not a sacrificial one?"
As I swore, I look up, forgetting my fears and the etiquette as the Prelate. She is garbed in battlewear looking like the ShieldMaidens of yore. And Gods, She is Glorious. Her fair skin and green eyes are an unholy union of Divine Grace.
Still cackling, Her beautiful lips opened softly.
"Did you forget what my Divine Jurisdiction are?"
Numb to the situation, I blankly shook my head.
"I am the Goddess of War, Victory AND Love."
And that small fact reminded me that it's true. My temple is dedicated to all three. It's just we never paid attention to the Love part, thinking it was actually some other God/Goddess's jurisprudence that got lost here somehow in the past generations.
Blankly, I could only mutter.
"Holy shit, I'm married. I'm a virgin, hells, I'm the Prelate, what the hell am I supposed to do?"
Apparently Divine ears hear more than I thought, because she answered.
"My dear husband, I will be staying here with you of course. To save your kinsman, to bring ruin to your and mine enemies, and..."
She gave me a wicked look.
"To graciously accept thy offering of thy life and soul, forevermore."
Shit. I'm married. To a Goddess. And it looks like she loves toying with me.
Shit. Someone help, please.
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She had run until her feet were bleeding, past the rubble of what was a flourishing civilization turned smoldering concrete and rebar. Past the charred bodies, giving the quickest of prayers that they had already passed.
The horrors of war were only the nightmares a wicked imagination could concoct before today.
For the enemy had dropped a weapon beyond what was thought possible. The whole land felt like an oven, the skies that were a light blue stood now as a gray overhang that no light could pass through. The worst part though, was the rain. Thick droplets of black ichor that felt like sin itself washed upon the landscape, as people opened their mouths to the sky eagerly to catch any bit of moisture.
She could understand, her body felt like fire, and while every drop began to slough her skin, it was almost bewitching to give in. To stop and lose herself to the rain, to fall over and die.
She paused, the ichor no longer dripping as she ran to a deep burgundy statue in the middle of the cemetery. Soldiers were buried here, all those who stood side by side with war himself. He had no name, no followers, he was simply commissioned by an impassioned benefactor and sculpted by an equally impassioned artist. No one looked at the statue much, for whenever they did they got the feeling they were intruding in a place wasn't meant for them. That this was a place of peace to those who died without it. All the placard stated was "War is in our blood, and spilling it is in his name."
Today was different, today, when on the ground, screaming in pain, all that crossed her mind was sacrifice. The price paid by soldiers both volunteered and conscripted. The price paid by innocents.
She was on the ground now, she had no idea when she fell before the statue, but she did not feel the way others described when she stared into the eyes of the red statue. She felt welcome, and she knew that right now, she was a soldier, about to make the greatest sacrifice for what she hoped would still be her country.
She tried to speak, her voice came out cracked and gurgle, she felt like her throat was a straw wrapper being torn apart by water. The words came naturally, but she didn't know from where. It was almost as if her very soul were... praying? To what, she had no clue, her mind was a fog, her body in a state that could be aptly be called collapsing.
She felt the intent of the gurgle tongue though. To give all of herself, in exchange for victory. No, victory wasn't the right word. She did not come here in a haze with reason as her guiding force, she came for war. She was desperate, what remained of her hands clenched as she continued speaking, feeling like an eternity. As she spoke the final word, she felt an... ambiguity in it? She offered herself, but to what extent she was unsure.
"I accept."
1/2
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ll8n74k
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ll88z7n
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[WP] The nearest kingdom gave you the title of dragon slayer but in reality the dragon you "slayed" was your girlfriend throwing a fit and you just calmed them down enough to go back to their human form.
|
"They did what?" laughed Tania, incredulously. "Start over from the beginning."
"Alright," I said. "Do you remember when we went on vacation to Europe last year?"
"Of course," she replied, then winked. "If I had a stamp for every place we were -- frisky -- your backside would look like a passport!"
I blushed hard, remembering. Part of her draconic nature was that her moods were fierce and long-lived. When she was feeling "frisky", well, let's just say I've learned to stock up on Gatorade and snacks in our bedroom. But when she's mad? She was once angry at me for days because I bought her an outfit in the wrong size. Nothing I could do or say helped. Luckily we live far out in the countryside, so her change usually went unnoticed. That's another part of her nature. When she's really overcome by her emotions, her control slips, and she reverts to her dragon form.
"Do you remember the tavern owner in London?"
Her eyes flashed a fiery gold before returning to their usual green. "Oh, yes. I still wish you'd have let me have just a little bite! He was the most sexist, chauvinistic, misogynistic pig I've ever encountered!"
That's saying a lot. Tania has been alive far longer than me, and will outlive me by as much. She's reticent to tell me her real age. To anyone else, she's just the short, cute, stubborn twenty-something redhead I'm talking to now.
"Well, you got mad. Really mad. And you changed. Luckily, it wasn't me you were mad at, so I was able to calm you down enough to change back. Unluckily, people saw."
Her face paled. "How am I not someone's lab experiment by now?"
"The people of the British Isles are old. The Magick is older. And there are Laws -- capital L -- almost as old. The old fairy tales?" I continued. "Those weren't young knights sent to vanquish the beasts. Or sacrificial maidens. They were potential suitors. The one who could 'calm' the dragon, as in, win its heart, was awarded the title of Dragon Slayer."
"So, they want to knight you?"
"Nothing so grandiose. I won't be 'Sir' anything. And it's all very private. But we have been asked to fly back to London. At the Crown's expense. And they've asked me to bring along the 'Damsel in Distress' I rescued."
"Well if you aren't being knighted..." she trailed off.
"We're to be married. By the King himself."
Tania laughed heartily, clearly relieved. But not taken aback by the news of our sudden, impending nuptials.
"Wait." I said. "Just hold on a minute! Did you...?"
"My kind has folk tales, too. It wasn't planned, if that's what you're asking. But I might have hoped, and you've dragged your feet long enough."
Tania's eyes flashed fiery gold again, this time with a look I knew all too well. "Come along, brave warrior. Show me how you 'slay a dragon.' " She got up and took my hand, leading me toward the hallway.
"And bring some Gatorade!"
|
You knew the Kingdom of Misogynia had a problem with women, but geez.
Lisa looks up from her cereal. "They're saying I'm a dragon? Is that what you're telling me?"
You wish you'd never read her those tweets. Then again, at your last couples session, Dr. Schwartzbaum told you to share with each other. To withhold nothing from your spiritual path-sharer. You gulp. "I mean, people like dragons."
"Name literally one person in the Realm who likes a dragon, Bruce."
Welp. She's got you there.
After all, just last year a dragon incinerated your Camry.
Lisa holds her head in her hands. "How did they even know about our fight?" She laughs incredulously and crosses the room to the window. "A fucking dragon? They know me! I've literally worked in the Misogynia DMV for twelve years!"
Schwartzbaum told you to engage your inner compassion matrix. You touch her shoulders--but she swats you away before you can affirm her inner worth quotient.
"They're calling you 'Dragon Slayer!'" she cries. "Women are already making seventy-six gringles to the ingot, and now I have to live with the fucking DRAGON SLAYER?"
Honestly, it sounds pretty badass when she says it.
[my subreddit ](https://www.reddit.com/r/JWORX_531/?rdt=62979)
[jaywilcoxwriter.net](https://www.jaywilcoxwriter.net/)
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jen86ct
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jemz14b
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[WP] An elf goes out on a ‘short errand’, forgetting that 30 years is a long time to have left his human wife and child at home.
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In terms of lifespans, elves were generally accepted to be functionally immortal. The oldest known, was around 9000 years old but there are rumors of sages over a 100,000 years old.
It was also widely known that this was not natural but a result of the largest ritual in recorded history. In fact there's been speculation that elves were just humans from a highly advanced human civilisation and the physical differences were also a result of the same ritual that gave them their lifespans.
The evidence for that is elves and humans can have offspring. The resulting half-elves are known to live up to a thousand years or so.
All that is to say, when my father left on an errand one day, everyone knew he wasn't coming back. In fact, it was widely known that for relatively young elves who have never had long term contact with individual humans, they lack the understanding that short meant minutes or an hour, not years. There are two scenarios when young elves take human partners, they remain with their spouses till the day they die, and learning that humans don't live long or they decide to go on *short* errands.
For a 15 year old, I was sorely ignorant of the world but even so, I knew something was wrong in hoe desperate mum was in trying to get dad to stay.
The last thing he said to us respectively was "You worry, too much, I'll be back in a while" and "I'll see you around kiddo"
Thirty years have passed since then. Mum passed away, still waiting for dad to come back, and I've taken up the vigil. Not because I was desperate to see the man, nor was it because I promised my mum that I would. Not entirely anyway. It's because I vowed to myself that I would give him a good punch, the moment he shows up.
Being an adventurer, the chances are that I would miss the moment when he does come back but as fate would have it. I didn't.
As I've practiced countless times, when the door opened, I stood from my usual seat by the wall where the door would be blocking me from view once open and hearing the phrase "Honey, I'm home" uttered, I stepped around the door, and crouched low, throwing a haymaker that connected beautifully.
Aiming for his abdomen, I feel him fold then straightening up, I watch as he falls to his knees, groaning "What?" He raises his head to look at me. "Who?"
"Welcome home father. We have much to discuss"
|
Let's say a short errand, for a human, is about 3 hours. 30 years is about 260,000 hours, so the elf's idea of time suggests that they're working on about a 85,000 to 1 scale. That is, the elf's equivalent idea of a 3 hour errand is 85,000 times longer.
So the elf, I suppose, is expected to live about 85,000 times longer than the humans, or somewhere between 4 million and 8 million years. An elf alive in the middle ages would have been born several million years before the evolution of humans. That's a fair bit longer lifespan than your typical Tolkien or D&D elves. For comparison, D&D elves live about 700 years (roughly 10 times longer than humans, and Tokien elves live about 10,000 years (maybe 130 times longer than humans) before they grow exhausted by the longing for Valinor. Their equivalent "short errands" would be like, 2 days and 2 weeks, respectively.
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j9xezh8
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j9xareb
|
[WP] A ghost that is gradually but completely losing their shit because every effort they make to make their presence known, no matter how absurd, is being discredited by the living's "sciences" and "rational thinking"
|
(Part 1 of 2 - Part 2 in the comments)
It had been a long, lonely year. Clarice, a bright young woman of 29, met her untimely end one gloomy November morning. Clarice hadn’t given much thought to the afterlife while she was alive, but she had not been prepared for what waited beyond. Isolation.
In life she treasured her alone time. Before her death, Clarice had lived alone with her two cats in a cozy two bedroom apartment. It wasn’t a spectacular life, but she enjoyed many a rainy day cozied up under a blanket with a good book and a warm cup of cocoa. After she died it was different though. For starters, her cats were taken away to live with one of her friends. Her black cat, Mr. Snuggles seemed to see her, even after death. His big green eyes peered at her longingly as they carried him out of her apartment, and away from her forever. After the cats went her furniture and everything else that she owned. Somehow Clarice was left, stuck, alone in a hollow apartment.
Her apartment remained empty for about a year; it was hard to rent an apartment where a woman under the age of 30 had suddenly died one day. Then, after a year, he moved in. Clarice’s thoughts oscillated between anxiety that he might see her and the avid hope he would. Evan Tucker was not the sort of person Clarice would have befriended back when she was alive. Evan was quite the contrast to her. He preferred video games over books, he was arrogant about his intelligence and spent his hours arguing on forums online. But there was one thing Evan shared with her that gave Clarice the tiniest glimmer of kinship. Evan was lonely too.
After about a month observing Evan making a home in the apartment that once belonged to her, Clarice resolved to try to communicate somehow with Evan. Clarice, had come to realize that Evan was more afraid than angry, and more sad than hateful. She pitied him. She thought that if she could find a way to talk with him, to set him in the right direction, that maybe she could help turn his life around. Nothing, however, could have prepared her for the uphill battle ahead.
She started simple, the classics. She concentrated really hard, focusing all her energy, and after an hour was able to grasp the door handle long enough to be able to pull it open. Evan looked up, noticing the door open unexpectedly. He groaned, muttered something about the wind, closed the door, and deadbolted it.
Clarice was drained of energy for two days. Then she tried again. She kept her thoughts centered on a small lamp Evan kept on his desk. After forty minutes of straining, she was able to have an effect on the physical object. The lamp fell off Evan’s desk with a loud crash. Evan, who was sitting at his desk at the time, jumped up a good six inches into the air. Clarice was ready to celebrate her victory when Evan grumbled something about seismic activity. *Sure, seismic activity*, Clarice groaned, rolling her spectral eyes. Nothing else in the room shook in the least, but she guessed the thought that he was being haunted was too farfetched for Evan.
As the weeks progressed, it became increasingly easy for Clarice to start interacting with the physical world. She picked Evan’s cooking pots and began clanking them together. Evan, standing in the kitchen at the time, stared for a moment slack jawed as he witnessed two pots floating in the air, smacking together. Clarice was doing her victory dance when Evan shook his head and audibly proclaimed, “Crap, there must be a gas leak. I better call the gas company.”
“THIS APARTMENT DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A GAS LINE!” Clarice screamed to deaf ears.
(Continued in comment)
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Another day had passed and I was still categorized as the “draft” in the house.
I was tired of it. So so tired. The new lady living there, Miss Amy, she sure did love to piss me off. You see, she really loved to light these candles that were so sickeningly sweet and strong, they made me want to return back to the living so I could get up and walk out of the house. Caramel Candy apple, strawberry shortcake, chocolate drizzle coconut dreams(I know, crazy name) - all of these she burned with such happiness each day, somehow enjoying these toxic fumes. Meanwhile I was slowly losing my mind because of how nasty they were.
Yet, with all my attempts to make her realize I absolutely DESPISED these scents, she decided that she’d keep doing it. Even when I continuously snuffed them out, she discredited my attempts and always said,”my oh my, the draft is really at it today!”
I always asked myself why, since I couldn’t ask her. Why couldn’t she tell that it’s not a damn draft, especially when she put the candle in a place where there wouldn’t even be a draft??!??!
After many days of this, of being cooped up in this house that I longed to leave, I was finally on my last straw and decided that the only way to get rid of these candles for good was to smash them. I mean, sure she could buy more, but wouldn’t it spook her into never buying them again? That was my goal, at least. She couldn’t blame the draft on a candle flying through the air on its own to the opposite side of the room after all.
So that is what I did. Oh, and how satisfying that was, to see those god-awful aroma inducing objects fly across the room and land on the ground in a triumphant shatter. Sure, I did feel a little bad for Miss Amy. She was terrified after that, and had to clean up the mess I made in a frantic hurry. But after that, my other goal was accomplished.
A day passed by, and she came to the house with a priest and decided after his visit to burn a new candle, one that smelled of freedom. She finally recognized that I wasn’t just a draft.
“I realize that maybe, after all this time, you were trying to tell me you were here. So, I hope this sage will set you free.”
And that it did.
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k57797s
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k56heup
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[WP] The power of a spell is inversely proportional to the amount of words in its name. You, hated and exiled, invented the first single word spell:
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I'll be honest- it was a complete accident. The very first thing they teach you when you first start learning magic- be careful what you say. Never say anything you don't completely mean, as your magic may react to your subconscious desires.
This is why most "good" mages are pretty quiet. "Bad" mages will talk an awful lot. Me? I wasn't an evil mage, I just completely lacked the ability to shut up. Seriously.
Want to know why I was exiled? Most would say it was when I asked, "Wouldn't it be great if food just showed up? Like, no one needed to farm or hunt?" It was during meditation, so when I asked the question, sparking the magic, half a dozen mages unintentionally focused on it. Sounds great, but man the mess! Random flesh everywhere, plants just sprouting willy nilly. One old guy died when half a deer materialized where he was standing. Took the mages council 2 months to undo it.
That put me on the shit list for sure. I was under a restrictive spell of silence for 6 months after that. Most really hated me then and wanted me gone, but the council was convinced that a talent like mine had to be trained. Mostly so I didn't screw things up just by talking. Master your power, master yourself sort of thing.
What really got them was what happened about 10 minutes after they took the spell of silence off me.
After about an hour of lectures of responsibility, duty, restraint, etc, they finally started lift the spell. It felt so damn good. The spell they used kinda restricts the vocal cords, so after a while it starts to ache. Having it taken off was like finally stretching a sleeping limb. After a stern warning, I was permitted to leave.
Now, picture this. The council room was structured a bit like a theater. Lots of steps down toward where there council sits. Makes it easy when they have a proclamation to give to everyone all at once. It's all stone and wooden benches, with endlessly burning torches along the walls, and linked candlelight spells in the ceiling. There's a good 50 steps from the entrance to the bottom. It was empty now, with just me and the council there.
I had left the council on their stage and was making my way up the stairs. I was really eager to leave, so my bag was in my hand, not on my back. The strap got tangled in my legs about halfway up, and I tripped. It wouldn't have been so bad, but I lost my balance and fell backward.
Desperate, I grabbed at the wall for purchase.... and got a torch instead. Why these were designed to break away, I'll never know. But it ripped off the wall into my hand, and I fell down the stairs. Backward. The stone stairs. While holding a endlessly burning torch.
At some point my bag broke open, with glass ink bottles breaking, spilling ink all over my robes.
I hit the bottom, my best robes covered in ink. I was half on fire, and the whole damn council stared at me in shock. My dumbass said the first thing that popped into my head- "Fuck!"
It was said with such a depth of feeling, frustration, and anger, embarrassment and sheer indignation, welling up from my soul into one pure pejorative exclamation.
I was done with this place, with these people, this whole school that hated my tendency to babble, that said that I would never be a great mage unless I could restrict my words and allow the power to grow in the few I was supposed to use.
The more words a mages used in a spell, the less the power would be focused, and the less power would be in the spell.
This was probably the first time I'd ever used a single word to describe everything I was feeling.
And the power was..... immense. Everything I felt boiled out into a spell so powerful it leveled the council chamber. The damn stairs, the torches, the stupid stupid council- gone, despite all the wards. The building it was in, layered with centuries of wards to prevent a magic blowout- gone. Half the campus was destroyed, the other half covered in debris.
At the same time, my ability to care went out the proverbial window. I had given my single fuck, and now there were no more fucks to give. I was protected, being in the epicenter.
I didn't bother to stick around. I just left. News of my bounty was really no surprise. Amazingly, no one bothered to try to collect.
I'm just glad I didn't say "Fuck me".
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The rules of verbosity. I cracked them, in solitude.
Not only the *number of words* matter; but I found that the *number of letters* also did.
Because all spells were such verbose, nobody cracked this code. The power gets higher and higher, the fewer words you use; if you go to the letters, the power is astonishing.
And yet nobody knows that, but me. And that is how it should have been, for I found a different thing.
You see, rules are meant to be followed for a reason. Turns out that, less words mean less desirability. The Grand Mages probably knew that, but the fools that came after them could not understand their teachings.
But still - they formed groups, guilds, and were separated from society, lost in their big towers and schools of magic, blinded by power. They though that they were *too good* for society;
Nothing is further from the truth.
Society *didn't want* them. Could not *tolerate* them. And magic, somehow, made that happen, poisoning their minds.
And again, only I know. Because I cracked the code. But nobody will hear me, for the rules that bind them also bind me.
At the village below, I hear people using magic. Simple spells, like "Light this fire" to cook something, or "create serene light" to light their tales at night. Because of this rule, the village have hundreds of people; the mages could not gather a group of ten before betrayal and murder occur.
And now, another group of people come to me. I try to explain to them, like always. They cast their spells - "greater lightning", "lightning bolt", "flame attack". I evade it easily with only a single word: **evade**.
They are not amused. I **paralyze** them, and try to talk, again. They don't listen. They call me a liar, a thief, a fool. Even I have limits, but I don't want to hurt them.
Somebody cast **greater dispel**. The rules of magic are indeed absolute, because a group of twenty mages is now working on a single group attack; one I could not survive.
I won't lie - I cry a little, for I know what is going to happen. Before they could end their work, I simply utter:
**I**
A single word spell that gave me absolute power over them. They drop to the ground, overwhelmed by the raw power of that single spell, one that can make me move mountains and evaporate oceans; the absolute unit of a spell.
Before I can counter my own magic, the color drains from their faces. Like always.
I simply carry the bodies to the cavern below, filled with the corpses of other mages - other fools that met their destines before these.
And yet, I know I am the biggest fool; but there's no way back anymore.
Hopefully they will learn their lessons, and stop coming after me. And then I can finally leave alone, in peace, until the end of my days.
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jt0k2ul
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jt0gd1g
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[WP] most vampires spend their immortality spoiling themselves and living lavishly. Instead, you've been working the night shift at a Waffle House for 70+ years with no intention of leaving. One of your coworkers asks why.
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"But why a Waffle House?" *Todd asked me.*
"It's a long story." *I said. I start pouring water into the mop bucket.* "The short version is I'm comfortable here. Every night we have some drunk passed out in the bathroom to feed on. There is always some drama going on to keep me entertained. Nobody gives a shit if I don't blink for ten minutes." *I turn to look him in the eyes.* "Tell me, now that you know I'm a vampire and I have worked here for 70 years, how many other vampires work here?"
"Oh," *Todd answers, pondering.* "Well... Rita for sure. And Jim... I always thought Mohammad was strange, I just chalked it up to him being from Tunisia... Can you go out in daylight? If so then Carlos and Pam are also vampires. So at least five."
*I laugh as I look back at what I'm doing. This tap always takes forever.* "No, just me. Mohammad is just a little culture shock. Carlos and Pam are on some heavy painkillers and Jim is on acid or mushrooms and Rita just has a gothic sense of style. Carlos might also be a werewolf, but his behavior is more Xanax than full moon."
"Werewolves are real too?" *Todd asks.*
*I shrug.* "They were at least. They might be extinct for all I know. But I'm getting off topic. You were wondering why I'm working at a Waffle House in a one horse town. When people think of vampires, they think of Dracula ruling a nation with an iron fist, or ancient cabals of vampires running the world from the shadows. But to assume the average vampire is Dracula is like assuming the average human is Elon Musk."
"So you're a working stiff like me? Just barely scraping by and making enough to pay rent?"
"Yes and no. It's not about money. It's not big, but I own my house. Paid off the mortgage long ago. Think of how far your paycheck would go without rent or food. I live comfortably enough. I just keep my head down. Vampire politics is brutal and violent. Most vampires die within a week of being turned. Even of those who last the month, half of them are dead within a decade. Vampire politics is like street gangs during an endless turf war. Every one of those poor saps thinks they're immortal right up until they are turned to dust."
"I see," *Todd says.* "So you work at Waffle House in this shitty little town to stay out of it?"
"Exactly!" *I turn off the faucet and start rinsing the mop.* "I'm so glad you understand."
"But you're pretty old and powerful then, right?" Todd asks.* "If most vampires are less than 10."
*I nod. I roll the mop to the ladies room and knock on the door.*
"So how do you stay out of their politics? Surely some would want to recruit you?"
*I give Todd a smile. A predatory grin with my fangs extended. He takes a step back in fear.* "Think Todd. Why do I need to mop up a half inch of dust in the bathroom?"
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I sigh, knowing it still won't make sense. "Have you ever wondered what it's like to have everything? Never want again? It's damn boring, and entirely unrealistic to boot." I crack a fresh egg onto the grill, sliding a plate over and out of the way. "You live, you live more, and then what huh? Drain the blood of some mortal that just fell prey like cattle? It's dull. No stories, no intrigue. Only seduction and slaughter. Here though? Stories. Another face, another tale, another lost soul." Quickly scrambling the egg with one hand, while flipping a lane of sausage, I point to a customer at the bar. "You see Ed there? He's been here for years, I know his order and his story, I'd have never gotten neither if I indulged like my bretheren." The employee, still confused asks, "But dude, couldn't you like... be a bartender then or something?" I sigh again, "And be around the recently drunk? Why? So I can have them vomit all over the place and be uncouth? At least here people come to enjoy life, put on good music, and live a little. They won't get rid of me because I'm consistent. And I don't need to worry about my schedule because they're open at all hours. It's perfect!"
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l3ays3h
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l3aujwg
|
[WP] If you would've known that that stupid river was the fountain of youth, you never would've drank from it. That was 300 years ago. You're permanently stuck at age 26. The only one you really have left in your life is your horse, who also made the mistake of drinking from it.
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"You say it like it's a bad thing," the pale man flashed a grin with too many teeth. "Could have been worse, like drinking the fountain of youth as a baby. Could you imagine needing diapers for all eternity?"
"This doesn't make me feel any better," the 300-year-old, 26-year-old Rider grumbled.
"Let's try this again," his oddly cheerful drinking buddy said. "You drank from the river of youth on the cusp of young adulthood, not as a cranky old man. Look, your favourite horse is as ageless as you, so you're never truly alone."
"It doesn't numb the pain of one who is young yet old like me. I've lost people who cared about to old age. My memories are slippery as an eel, flowing away from me into emptiness as the river flows into the sea."
"You could forge new memories and keep them in a journal."
"I lost a diary to a fire once."
"Online journals are the new thing now. I keep my memos in cloudjourney.app now. Alongside my favourite cake recipes I've been collecting for thousands of years. Move along with the times, you're not *that* old."
"You have no idea—" Rider caught himself there, realising he was conversing with another immortal. One far older than his 300 years. "...do you regret becoming immortal?"
The man sitting across the table shrugged. "I can't regret something that wasn't my choice to make. Have you ever asked your horse if it regretted drinking from the fountain of youth?"
"Horses don't talk, immortal or not."
"My horse isn't in this pub. Why don't we talk about you? Just exactly how ancient are you?"
"I lost count. Don't recall my birthday. But hey, I have friends who picked a date and named it my birthday. Complete with making it a public holiday in my town."
That just reinforced his point. If Rider's memories were fading, how much more had this other immortal lost? This was a man who didn't know when he stopped aging. He who no longer had any numbers to identify the passing of time post-immortality.
"How do you live with yourself like this? Don't you see this as a depressing fact?"
"Eh, if I were depressed over losing memories and people I cherished instead of meeting new folks, that's torturing myself. Doesn't make sense to be trapped in misery for an eternal life. Just have to keep walking. Because dying is no longer a luxury we have."
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I walk.
I am called my things.
Vagabond. Wanderer. Homeless. All of those things true and also not.
I simply walked. My horse with me, carrying my tent and some bacon.
I have walked for quite some time. One foot before the other. When I reach the ocean, I turn around and begin walking again.
It's been a long time since I remembered why I walk but I know that whenever I stop. I remember her and I begin walking again.
I am known, a Legend for some. The world has changed so much that since I started walking.
People try to stop and ask me questions, thinking I'm some sage man when I am but a walker. Walking ocean to ocean hoping to forget her.
I have forgotten all my life but her.
I know that when I do forget I will die. So I walk. Hoping
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l9vcqff
|
l9v7gq2
|
[WP] You're the healer of the group. The rest of the party has always treated you like you're made of glass. You were content to stay out of their way and let them do their thing. Until they all got downed leaving you the only one standing. That's when you show them how deadly healing magic can be.
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*Step 1, anchor the soul. Unlike other healing magics (Druven - Ch.9, Erda – Ch. 37), Keanric healing is uniquely harsh on the indivisible soul and precautions are needed regardless of physical condition, lest one triggers Soul Collapse (Ch. 2). When using Firstsight, concentrating on a Soul Bond and applying the Canticle of Strengthening is generally sufficient for up to five minutes.*
My vision explodes into a kaleidoscope of colour as I use the Firstsight. Around me swishes of blue and purple showcase the swings that cut down my party, with bursts of green where blood was shed. Fighting back the distractions, I look for the crucial souls to preserve, small motes of white in the corner of my eye. Reva and Ghlast are unconscious but still breathing, their souls still bright and shining in their chest. Morgan took an arrow to the windpipe, my strengthening threads wrap around her dimming soul before it dissipates into the ether. Jacinto is the worst off in account of the sword through his chest, another minute and he would be permanently gone. He’s turned to me, bloodshot eyes pleading for me to run, but now is not the time to run, now is the time to heal.
*Step 2, visualise the damage. The blue images from your Firstsight are colloquially known as “Effect” and the magenta images are “Cause”. The Keanric Barter requires full visualisation of the “Effect” in order to be effective. As per the Keanric Laws of Balance, the price to pay for healing the “Effect” is of course the “Cause”.*
The Ivory Knight closest to me removes his blade from Jacinto’s chest and turns to face me. He and the other knights have their gleaming white armour stained by my party’s blood but that is not what I see. What I see is the threads of Cause and Effect illustrating the battle. Reva – blunt force trauma cracking the skull; Ghlast – broken ribs and internal bleeding of the liver; Morgan, lacerated trachea; Jacinto – four stab wounds, with the killing wound through the left ventricle of his heart. Their injuries fill my eyes with cerulean and are all I can see, a maze of threads linking them back to the Ivory Knights.
*Step 3, make payment. To complete the Keanric Barter, the Caster must pay the Cause. Without suitable Payment such as a Life Seed (Ch. 14), the default outcome of a Keanric healing is that the Caster takes the wounds upon themselves, a potential fatal outcome. As such, never attempt a Keanric healing without having sufficient Payment on hand. On occasion it is possible to make payment of the Barter by reversing Cause back to the source, however such a reversal can only occur if the Cause has occurred in the past 3 minutes due to causality deterioration (Ch. 99).*
I complete the Barter. Cause and Effect reverse, the streaks of battle in my vision being replaced by red and yellow. Blood and screams fill the air, but my party stands up, healed.
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The Healer stood her ground, her linen clothes smothered in grime and blood, her comrades dead, the enemy closing in in a mass charge. She's alone, angry, and desperate to save herself.
In a bout of fury, she focused all of her strength into one final gambit. She will heal her enemies. Heal them beyond capacity. Heal them to hell
The first wave of individuals crossed the trench found their limbs beginning to swell and grow, contort and mutate. Men began choking as their throats swelled and grew, while others desperately tried to cut off rapidly growing tumors from their bodies with their bayonets
Other men raised their rifles against her, but she counters them instead with cancer of the eyes, bringing untold pain to the ranks that dared cross paths with her
For once, she felt useful
For once, she felt powerful
And then
[The sound of thunder.](https://youtu.be/lOHi5-5Hlzw)
Through the scope of a distant man, he watched as the healer's entire upper body erupt into a spectacle of bone and viscera. Her body, or what's left of it, dropped to the ground, leaning against the raised earth behind it, reduced to shredded meat hanging loose atop dangling legs
"Hunter Killer successful", said another man in drab tans, this time holding binoculars in place of a weapon
"We have neutralized the Healer"
"Good, continue the offensive. Bringing in mechanized support"
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jwo84mt
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jwmtia4
|
[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.
|
" Put the gun away," I said.
She cocks the gun.
"PUT THE GUN DOWN."
" I want all of it," she says holding the gun. " I'm taking it all, you fuck. You've been played, motherfucker," she says and gives a smirk.
I don't say anything. I put my hands up, throw my piece in the back seat, " Alright, you win. I'm gonna open the trunk. You take the duffel bags."
She opens the car coor, goes to the trunk, and grabs the duffel bags. Without the trunk closing I take off.
I drive the road, obey all traffic lights, and head to the used car dealer lot.
"Hey, Frank," says Seth. " You got the stuff?"
" Yeah," and pop the trunk open and open the spare tire compartment and take out the real duffel bags. My skinny little brother gets out.
" You made the switch, yeah?"
" Yeah, kinda hard opening that spare tire place, but made the switch."
"Seth, burn the car. Here's your share."
Jared and I get into a plain Civic, Florida plates. We drive away. I pull my burner phone and dial the police, " I'd like to report a crime. I know who pulled the bank job on Broadway and Turner. Allison Dunlop, goes by Allison Creed and now Jessica Turner. She's going to be in her apartment on Peak street. Four B." I threw the phone away.
" What gives?" asks Jared.
" I don't like being played. You knew she was playing. Told you she'd lay you a few times. Information."
" What's in the bags?"
I lit a cigarette, " Everything she had in her savings, checking, and off shore accounts." I took a puff, " She's been stealing from poor old people man. She's gettin what she deserves."
" I kinda liked her," said Jared.
" Not a woman like that. We can lay low for awhile. And travel a bit. Maybe somewhere you'll meet someone, Little Bro."
Jared pulled a gun on me, " I loved her, Frank."
" Fuck, Jared. Your gun is not loaded. I made sure. Blanks. You want to get out and chase that girl. Wait til she gets out? I've sent the detective a USB. You can get out and try and save her."
He pulled the trigger. My ears rang. " Told you. Blanks.You wanna get out?"
Jared pulled the trigger until it clicked. Smoke filled the car. My fucking ears were ringing. I pulled over. " I love you. I always will. There's the door."
Tears in his eyes, he opened the door and stepped out. He said, " I never made the switch."
" Figured as much," I said and drove away. I saw him running after the car, screaming.
I drove to a bar. Seth and Josh were in a booth. I sat down felt the duffel bags.
" Where's Jared?"
" Love," I said.
" You're were right, man," said Seth. Seth and Josh were with me in the bank. Fake duffels in his car. Josh and Seth put the real duffels in his car and I drove the fake duffels and picked up our lookout Jessica.
My phone rang, " Yeah."
Jared crying in the phone, " I told them everything, Frank."
" Told who what?"
" The cops."
" I don't know what you're talking about."
" Everything. Every job."
" Jared, I told she was bad news. Feeding you drugs and love. Your drugged out of your mind. You'd do and say anything to get her out. I want no more part in this. I tried to help you man. Get clean, get away from her. Now listen to yourself."
Jared whispered to someone.
" I love you. Always will. Find me when your clean and sober," and I broke the phone in two. " We gotta go."
We tipped the bartender 10 grand, snuck out the back and got into a plain Subaru.
I started the car, lit my cigarette and headed to where no one would know or say anything about us: Wyoming. A big place to lose oneself for several years. Never told Jared. Always said we'd head to someplace sunny, plenty of women, drinks, and nothing to do but bask in the warmth of the sun.
I drove slow. Obeyed every speed limit. A model citizen. One thing echoed forever in my ears: I love you Jared. Always will.
|
"Really" I muttered, as Ryan the one who I had trusted, my partner in crime pointed the gun on me. Without hesitation, he let out the first shot \*BANG\* .... a burning sensation quickly swallowed my chest, I fell to the floor.
Ryan slowly walked closer to me, his eyes gazed in mine .... those eyes. We were both in high school when we became friends through sports, it was a bit rocky at the start but we eventually found ourselves helping each other throughout school, having sleepovers and eventually going to jail together, yeah we went through alot; the kind Ryan that was always there for me, supporting me, now getting ready to take my life..... what went wrong?.
"Why" I forcefully muttered, my chest tightening, making it hard to breathe.
"The truth is, the game was rigged from the start" he responded, in a tone which was more jovial than regretful. "Huh" I whispered, then it hit me.... After our first arrest, Ryan became somewhat of a junkie. He did everything he could to secure some dollars to feed his sick addiction, he even stole from his mother. A couple months back, we were tipped off by a girl working with a wealthy business man as a house cleaner, that he would be out of town and he always left some of his bank cards and a handsome amount of cash in his room in which she had the keys for.
"Perfect opportunity to change our lives" Ryan blurted, when he heard the news
"Yeah but you know it's very risky, this isn't a game" I said in response, worryingly
"Cmon dude, all you need to do is sneak in after she is done cleaning, grab the keys and make bank, it is like a game".
I looked up at him from my worryingly stare at the floor and nodded. If only I knew what would had become of this situation I would've went there in secret, took the money and ran away... I should had known after all, because he had brought a gun when I went to pick him up to go do the robbery, why would we need a gun? noone would be there. "It's just in case things go south". Yeah they did, and it was his all doing.
Up came Ryan's hand again, pointing the pistol at me, my heart sank... this is how it ended. Without hesitation, he let out another round, I felt it penetrate my lower abdomen, at this point I began to feel an outer body experience, slowly losing consciousness .... slowly ..... and I saw black.
|
jen86ct
|
jemvmo4
|
[WP] An elf goes out on a ‘short errand’, forgetting that 30 years is a long time to have left his human wife and child at home.
|
In terms of lifespans, elves were generally accepted to be functionally immortal. The oldest known, was around 9000 years old but there are rumors of sages over a 100,000 years old.
It was also widely known that this was not natural but a result of the largest ritual in recorded history. In fact there's been speculation that elves were just humans from a highly advanced human civilisation and the physical differences were also a result of the same ritual that gave them their lifespans.
The evidence for that is elves and humans can have offspring. The resulting half-elves are known to live up to a thousand years or so.
All that is to say, when my father left on an errand one day, everyone knew he wasn't coming back. In fact, it was widely known that for relatively young elves who have never had long term contact with individual humans, they lack the understanding that short meant minutes or an hour, not years. There are two scenarios when young elves take human partners, they remain with their spouses till the day they die, and learning that humans don't live long or they decide to go on *short* errands.
For a 15 year old, I was sorely ignorant of the world but even so, I knew something was wrong in hoe desperate mum was in trying to get dad to stay.
The last thing he said to us respectively was "You worry, too much, I'll be back in a while" and "I'll see you around kiddo"
Thirty years have passed since then. Mum passed away, still waiting for dad to come back, and I've taken up the vigil. Not because I was desperate to see the man, nor was it because I promised my mum that I would. Not entirely anyway. It's because I vowed to myself that I would give him a good punch, the moment he shows up.
Being an adventurer, the chances are that I would miss the moment when he does come back but as fate would have it. I didn't.
As I've practiced countless times, when the door opened, I stood from my usual seat by the wall where the door would be blocking me from view once open and hearing the phrase "Honey, I'm home" uttered, I stepped around the door, and crouched low, throwing a haymaker that connected beautifully.
Aiming for his abdomen, I feel him fold then straightening up, I watch as he falls to his knees, groaning "What?" He raises his head to look at me. "Who?"
"Welcome home father. We have much to discuss"
|
Haldir stood in the doorway of his cottage, the fresh paint he'd applied himself now crack and faded.
'You wouldn't believe it, honey! I ran into Beorn, my old dwarven buddy on my way back. Went for a few ales to catch up on old times and he introduced me to this band of goblin bards he was travelling with.
I told them I could play the lute and we jammed for a bit until we woke up this old troll that chased us all the way over the mountains. Then this really nice sphinx gave us a magic carpet so we went to see the great sky whales but we got shot down by gargoyle raiders.
Then Beorn hooked up with a mermaid and that set off this whole civil war so we had to steal Neptune's staff just so they would let us go...'
He continued on as his wife's now wrinkled face glared back at him. A child which he assumed was his grandson crawled along the floor behind her.
'Oh blast! I forgot the milk!'
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