chosen_comment_id
stringlengths 7
7
| rejected_comment_id
stringlengths 7
7
| prompt
stringlengths 27
300
| chosen_story
stringlengths 494
7.88k
| rejected_story
stringlengths 364
8k
|
|---|---|---|---|---|
jdsospq
|
jdso95l
|
[WP] Destroying 90% human population on earth, the aliens leave, assuming that society would crumble, and remaining 10% will just all fight for resources and eventually die out. They returned a thousand years later, expecting a cleansed planet, but were met with a nuclear strike from a satellite.
|
Life without death loses all meaning.
I didn't understand that as a child. Nor as a teenager, even whilst reluctantly learning about each of the previous extinction-level events that challenged life on earth--not only humanity--to overcome.
Long before the end of Ordovician over 440 million years ago, evolution of life had taken root, and would not be denied. The constant steam of neutrinos from deep in the cosmos disrupted our great ancestor's DNA rapidly enough to ensure that *some* branches of life would carry on no matter what happened.
That first extinction event culled the first wave of weakness from the greater gene pool, allowing only the strongest 14% to persist. Despite their numbers being reduced to a breaking point, these leftover species quickly claimed the planet.
This second iteration of life on Earth spread across the globe for the next 70 million years, until the next great filter ripped away another languishing layer of obsolescence. Only the strongest 25% of *them* would move life forward.
Another refined generation was called to duty, to push forward and grow and adapt to a hostile, evolving planet, and it did so marvelously for another 120 million years before they, too, were reduced to the few who could withstand what came for them. This time though, life would be reduced to 4%. The strongest of the strongest chosen to carry on earth's legacy.
Their reign would be over after 30 million years, as the planet would claim 80%. Life, though, would stubbornly persist yet again, as it was designed, destined, FORGED to do.
A new, *extremely* powerful generation of life would *dominate* the planet for 135 million years until about 65 million years ago when an asteroid would hammer the final nail into the coffin of a generation that had already been losing steam. As if mother nature wasn't satisfied, as if the universe had been raising the children of Earth to become warriors, it created almost impossible conditions for life to survive.
But it did. Albeit, 24%. We, humans I mean, by far the most dominant species to ever walk the planet evolved from *this* 24%.
The aliens who decided to kill 90% of *us* -- *clearly* didn't do their research.
We are the strongest 10%, of the strongest 24%, of the strongest 20%, of the strongest 4%, of the strongest 25% of the strongest 14% of life on a planet that just so happens to have trained us to take ANYTHING this universe can throw at us and thrive anyway.
And we are pissed off.
|
Part 1
“We bombed them a thousand years ago, our grandfathers and mothers died to the ones there, though it was only in the hundreds range, we left roughly 10% of the population there, mostly elderly and children to assure they’d die out, and so we will return to this planet that we have called Terra-3 to collect the natural resources, we should be there in 2 hours, so all go you, go and get some last minute training in.” The admiral would dismiss the meeting, they were doing this in secret against the wishes of the guild. The guild was a massive organization that sought to solve problems with diplomacy, his race the Zaraiks, which had a large amount of skin tones, and looked somewhat like the people they were conquering. Previously they helped a leader of a country build his massive structures in the sandy regions of the planet, and gave him a nice dagger as a gift. Now the admiral young but ambitious took responsibility for the mission a mistake he’d regret later is not sending scouting drones.
After a while the small fleet of 1 capital ship and 4 support ships would enter the system of Terra. They’d approach Terra-3 but suddenly a large bang could be heard. Then a crew member would yell “INCOMING PROJECTILES!” Suddenly a ship was destroyed, then another. The admiral would yell “DEPLOY ALL FIGHTERS AND DRONES!” Suddenly another ship would be destroyed, and the admiral would yell another order “ABANDON SHIP!” He and the crew would begin to run to escape ships, and various drop ships to escape. The admiral would barely escape as his Capital ship “The Greater Nebula” was torn apart by what his crew told him was atomic weaponry. That’s when it sunk in, this wasn’t them setting up an outpost… It was them being ambushed.
|
jw6hurp
|
jw5krdr
|
[WP] Each type of death has a unique type of Reaper. The Reapers of Drowning collects the souls of the drowned. The Reapers of Old Age collects those that have come to their natural end. Write a story about a Reaper for an unusual death finally having a soul to collect.
|
"Hm."
"Hm? What's that for?"
"You're the first person to have died like this in... I believe since the Ice Age?"
"Oh."
"Please excuse any confusion, it's been a while since I've had to do this. You see, every type of death gets a Reaper, and I have been a Reaper for this death for a long time. Many people have died this kind of death, but not in this era."
"Oh, I died a stupid death, didn't I?"
"No, you were just in an accident. Us freak accident Reapers don't come by that often. Accidents are, well, accidents."
"That's good to hear. I was worried I was gonna get mocked for eternity for this."
"I would be surprised if anyone mocked you for this. This is a horrific death."
"You'd be surprised to hear what people mock!"
"I don't like that idea. Now, come along, I have to get you to the afterlife. I'm not not looking forward to telling the Lord of Souls about this."
"Hey, Cave Bear Reaper! Why's that guy not all mauled looking? 'Oh, he was crushed by a corpse in a museum.' We're gonna be hearing that every five minutes, aren't we?"
"Possibly every two. I think most of them would be surprised that I'm even doing my original job. They might believe you're another victim of elevator deaths."
"You have another job? I thought you just said every job gets a Reaper. Did elevator deaths not get a reaper?"
"Not many people die from cave bears nowadays, so I had to be reassigned to something people actually die from. This is quite common among the reapers who's deaths don't exist anymore. You... you are the exception."
"Neat, neat, I'm gonna be thinking about this the whole way down. Or up. Which way's the afterlife?"
"It is upwards. Thank you for taking this in such stride, you're making this significantly easier on me. The stress of potential paperwork is driving me mad already. Alright, follow me. I... I may be less talkative on the way. I need to process this."
"If you say so, man."
|
[CW: Kids]
It showed up just in time to see the other boys running away. That was the way of young boys, it supposed. Everything was fun and games untill someone lost an eye, or worse...
In the corner of the school yard, where two brick walls met, lay the crumpled form of a boy, about the same age as those who had fled. A similar looking shade stood beside it, bawling.
The reaper floated over to the crying boy.
*I know it is quite unfair. Such is it ever with those who pass in unusual ways*
The reaper tried it's best to be comforting, but it hadn't had the opportunity to interact with humans in a rather long time. The boy was briefly startled, but went back to crying.
"We were just playing around!" He gasped through the tears.
"Why did Jimmy have to do that? And they just LEFT me!!?!? Am I dead? I didn't even think you could die from something like this!!!"
The reaper tried to be comforting, but it had been a very long time.
*Atomic Wedgies are dangerous, as you are now well aware. Please come with me, your grandparents are looking forward to seeing you*
The reaper offered it's misty hand and the sobbing boy took it. They both vanished like a popped bubble.
|
kfvrozb
|
kfv9hqi
|
[WP] A criminal goes on a spree after being inspired by misheard song lyrics.
|
He'd not even made it 30 feet into the hamlet before he was stopped by its owner. By all measure, the standoff should have felt absurd to every observer: Him, a picture of strength and constitution, a good six foot tall, proud and confident in his every movement. And her?
Small, physically weak, a huddled mass within a ragged cloak, what little of her uncovered coated with off-white scales. A good two feet under him, so that his head had to tilt downwards to stare into what little he could see of her eyes, under a well maintained skull fashioned as a mask.
Yet still she imposed.
"You must be the mistress of life and death I've heard so much about." A booming voice, somehow managing to echo even with naught but dirt and relatively few buildings to bounce off.
"And you must be the *next* arrogant shit who thinks they have better claim to the role." She responded. Accent of further down south, and a weary, put-upon tone. As if this were an unwanted duty.
"I *know* I do. Surely your sentry told you of my powers, after she fled for her life? Too cowardly to face her death to a proper practitioner of life force manipulation."
"Please", the smaller one scoffed back. "She was just saving me a job in reviving her. She'll be fine."
"Don't be so arrogant, monster. I know your game. Building a town of kobolds, orcs, all the others... You intend to invade us. And I plan to stop that before it starts."
"If I wanted your cities, I'd have taken them already. Using this power for conquest's the business of evil bastards and fools. Sure you're not projecting?"
He felt anger build within him - trying to press it back down kept him busy, too busy to notice the weeds of the town, few as they were, begin to wither and rot. But then, only the most perceptive would have come close to seeing it. "I *know* what you monsters are! And what you intend to do!"
"Talk about morals later on, once you leave. Or did you need a lesson?"
"Anything you could teach me, I already know."
"You say that." she responded, slowly walking forward - why he hesitated to respond even he wasn't sure of. Perhaps some idle curiosity as to where her arrogance stemmed from. Overconfidence in his own abilities. But regardless, she was allowed to speak.
"Do you not know who I guard, in my duties? I let the 'monsters' here live. All the pests, big and small, provided they can learn to settle in peace. The ones that try to choke out the land - the weeds, the mosquitoes, the little invasive species, I swallow their energy to protect the others. I am a guardian and cleanser alike, of the tiny little things of such little energy. But the thing is?"
She raised her hand - giving in, for just a moment or two, into a dramatic motion, though only due to needing to. More and more grass withered, all behind him, so as not to be noticed. "I've learned two *critical* things about those little things. They only need the smallest spark of energy to grow and propagate, and they can grow almost **anywhere**."
She clenched her hand, to finish her spell.
It has been said many a time, in those lands, that the evil take pleasure in suffering. Take pride in their kills, and as such, drag them out, revelling in screams of pain and slow slides into the afterlife.
He had a quarter second at most to recognise her action, before his skull split in two from an explosion of ivy, snaking its way out from his very veins, finding homes in every tiny crack between the various parts of his head. He managed not even a final breath as he crumpled in a heap.
The sentry stepped forward, stumbling slightly from her prior battle, but lifting the corpse without hesitation all the same. "Same place as always, boss?"
"Get him to the forests, yes. Time for him to be a part of the cycle. He's avoided it for too long."
She stepped away from the town square, back towards the private garden, at the back of the hamlet, blooming with a thousand beautiful flowers, with nary a weed among them.
And peace was, for today at least, kept.
|
“It’s time.” Wadramonomo thought pensively.
Wadramonomo always expected this, just not so soon. He sat atop the barstool, back facing the bar, staring intently toward the door. The room around him may as well not have existed. Nothing mattered anymore, after all; his life as he knew it was about to end.
“Are you alright?” asked Chablublu, the bartender.
Chablublu was a kind man—tall, muscular, and quite handsome. He would’ve made a great warrior. But alas, his method of felling warriors was with potent concoctions.
Wadramonomo was unaffected.
“Wadramonomo!” shouted Chablublu.
Still, Wadramonomo was unfazed.
Chablublu, standing directly behind Wadramonomo, climbed to the top of the bar, stood there for a moment in contemplation, and suddenly yeeted himself at Wadramonomo, so as to body slam him.
Wadramonomo’s internal threat detection responded immediately. In an instant, and without hesitation, Wadramonomo sucked the life out of Chablublu and teleported to the barstool next to him.
Chablublu’s lifeless body fell, first to the barstool, where his body contorted like a rag doll before completing his inevitable trip to the cold floor beneath.
Violence was absolutely forbidden in Watatatata, the city of peace, where Wadramonomo had been acting as the protector from unwanted encroachers.
Despite violence being forbidden, everyone carried lethal weapons at all times. They learned their lesson after they were last attacked by the FrooFroo people.
This was before Wadramonomo came to be Watatatata’s protector, around twenty-five years ago. Everyone believed in Wadramonomo’s ability, but they all shared the belief that if an attack were to happen, they could help.
In less than two seconds from Chablublu’s untimely demise, all of the thirty-three other guests had their weapons pointed at Wadramonomo.
This was unprecedented. The people of Watatatata would have never suspected Wadramonomo to do such a thing.
Wadramonomo’s threat detection could sense the intent of every single person aiming their weapon at him. Again, like clockwork, his threat detection system automatically sucked the life out of everyone in the bar. No one remained but him.
He continued to stare blankly at the door in anticipation. Moments later, it flung opened and a man walked in.
“Brother!” Bregeehi said with a grin.
“It took you long enough.” Wadramonomo said coldly.
“Great things take time, brother! But finally, it’s time for you to come home.” remarked Bregeehi.
Wadramonomo was visiting Earth to determine its suitability for colonization. Upon his arrival an unknown error occurred in his ship that made it impossible to return.
Wadramonomo has been awaiting Bregeehi’s arrival for twenty-five years to go home.
“So what’s your verdict? Will we be occupying Earth then?” asked Bregeehi.
“Yes.” said Wadramonomo.
“And about the natives?” asked Bregeehi.
“I’ll take care of them now. I’ve only kept them around to keep me company for all these years.” replied Wadramonomo.
Wadramonomo closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and held it for seven seconds.
“It’s done.” said Wadramonomo.
“Good.” said Bregeehi. “Let’s go home.”
|
jy48dtj
|
jy44hqe
|
[WP] After a superhero destroyed your home and killed your family during a fight you swore you would have your vengeance and destroy the heroes once and for all. You may only be a rat but that is not going to stop you.
|
Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak, Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak, Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak.
Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak.
Squeak Squeak.
"Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak" Squeak Squeaked
"Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak" Squeak Squeaked Squeakelly
"Squeak Squeak Squeak"
"Squeak"
"Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak"
"Squeak Squeak"
Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak.
Squeak Squeak Squeak
Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak.
Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak.
"Squeak Squeak" Squeak Squeaked
"Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak" Squeak Squeaked Squeakelly
"Squeak Squeak Squeak?"
"Squeak Squeak"
"Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak"
"Squeak Squeak"
" Squeak Squeak Squeak!"
"Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak "
Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak! Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak.
Squeak Squeak Squeak
Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak.
Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak, Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak, Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak.
"Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak!" Squeak Squeaked
"Aw fuck" said the hero
Squeak Squeak Squeak, Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak.
Squeak, Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak, Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak. Squeak Squeak Squeak.
|
As the fires of Super City continued to burn I explained my master plan. “Good. Good. They should come in droves!” I rubbed my rat hands together and wiggled my whiskers approvingly at the sight before me. My minions did well. Then I see it. A cloud of flying heroes.
“Now! Go forth my brothers! Fight! For nothing can stop the rat empire!”
Then my army began the war chant. Their squeaky voices chanting in unison. “Rats. We’re rats. We’re the rats. We prey at night we stalk at night. We’re the rats.”
I returned their chant with my own. “I’m the giant rat that makes all of the rules!” Then all together we said “let’s see what kind of trouble we can get ourselves into!”
The first bolts of energy fell onto us as we launched our assault. Catapults and trebuchets peppered the enemy and killed many in one single volley.
The fighting raged on. But in the end, the rats had won. Fires burned hotter. Millions of people were destroyed. It was such glorious destruction. Enough to make a demon curl up and wish for a fate so merciful as death.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The scientist sat back in his chair. “Guys, uh, something tells me we need to stop using rats in these experiments.”
“Relax,” another said. “I’m sure they’re not all thinking that.”
The first scientist suppressed a gasp. The rat was… sneering. Evilly. No, the scientist thought. They’re all thinking that.
|
lowxq6d
|
lowjh29
|
[WP] On the day of your 18th birthday, you pressed a button that gives you $10,000 for every day left in your life. You just checked your bank account: $1,000,000,043.
|
I'd been feeling really down due to my recent diagnosis of ALS. No point in going to university now. No money. No point getting a girlfriend or marriage when it was doomed before it started. No point to life.
I'd spent the morning just staring at the wall.
And then a mysterious man showed up at my door and said if I'd sacrifice my life and press this button, I could leave my family $10,000 for every day left in my life. Well, what did I have to lose? A life of progressive weakness and eventual suffocating death?
I'd pressed the button assuming that I had about 2-5 years left. $10 million+ would help my family and I wouldn't be a burden to them.
So I pressed the damned button.
And the alert came up on my phones banking app.
Rounding to a billion, divide by 10,000, divide by 365, and that's about 273 years.
Looks like in the next few years, they'll not only cure ALS, but make strides toward immortality.
Fuck Me. Fuck My Life. Still, at least my family will never have to worry about anything ever again.
.
.
.
My phone started beeping. A lot. Twitter/X and Facebook were exploding.
The mysterious man had made the offer to every adult in the world. And hundreds of millions had taken up the offer. Some had made quadrillions. Some had even hit the limit on banks computers.
Yesterday $1billion was a lot. Tomorrow it'll be worthless.
Fuck Everyones Lives.
|
"... Woah. Hold on. A billion... it actually worked? And a billion... divided by... 10000... screw this, I failed math anyways." I open up my phone to it's calculator. "A hundred thousand days... That's like..." I type another thing into the calculator. "245 years! Wow! How is that even... possible? And what should I do with all this money? Maybe I should save it, invest it? I don't know... Maybe I should go back to school? Get a better job than the one by the gas station? Well... I don't really need money... but maybe something fun? I always did like biology..."
|
lhuriw3
|
lhulnz1
|
[WP] Level 100 in the East is about the same a level 20 in the West… which is a shame for the level 52 sorceress who just severely underestimated you…
|
I sat at the bar; a local place called the Oasis. Cleverly named, given that the town of Yttri was in the middle of the Ghavwre Desert. The clay walls were carved with intricate designs of Myran style; an ancient tribe which, although they were wiped out, left very sophisticated writings and ruins.
I always loved looking at those carvings in the ruins; depictions of warriors quelling sandstorms and fighting massive serpents, which, contrary to common belief, still lurked beneath those sands. It had been my greatest hobby, surveying those old structures. I considered myself an unpaid professor. on the subject.
“Who the fuck puts a bar in the middle of a desert?” The question came from woman to my right. I glanced over at her. Pinned to her extravagantly colored robe was an insignia; *She’s level 52… that insignia’s Eastern, though.*
“If you’re so pissed off about a bar in a desert, why did you roam around a desert and then come to drink in its only bar?” I said with a smirk.
“You better watch it, you level 40 runt!” She hissed.
*She could gauge my level?* I glanced back over at her. *Maybe she isn’t actually Eastern… that’s not good.* “Who are you?”
“I am Magnia of Ralioch!” She said boldly. “And who are you to ask me such a question? You should respect your betters, unless you want to duel!”
*Ralioch? That’s that.* I sighed in relief and took a sip of my water. “Yeah, I think that would be fun.” I set down my own mug and stood up. I wordlessly strolled from the bar and out onto the sandstone street, shielding my eyes from the sun as I crossed the door’s threshold. She followed, yelling curses which sounded like gibberish to me.
She drew her wand; I drew my sabres. “By the way, Magnia!” I called out. “Do you know where you are?”
“Of course I do, brat! This is Yttri, in the Ghavwre Desert. I’m not stupid, like you!”
I braced myself, waiting for her to cast some silly spell. She waved her wand, and began to chant an incantation. I launched off of my foot, rushing toward her. I felt the dust kick up behind me as I closed the twenty meters between us in an instant. She was flabbergasted as I held the sharp edge of my blade a fragment of an inch from her slender throat.
“You’re in the West, sweetheart.”
I smiled wickedly as I pulled the sabre away from her throat and sheathed it. Without any hesitation, I hit her in the throat with pommel of my other one. She choked as she hit the ground. “The East is not battle-tested.” I lectured her. “Your standards are inferior. Did nobody teach you to convert your level before you wandered out into the desert? Or was that the same day they taught manners?”
“Co-“ She coughed, “Conversion?”
“The Eastern Association assigns levels based on mana measurements. The Western Association does so as well, but the mana levels required for any given level are roughly five times higher in the West than they are in the East. Your level 52 is equivalent to a level 10 here.” I slipped my other sabre into its sheath and smiled, “Which means you’re really lucky that I refuse to duel you; duels here are to the death, and you foolishly challenged someone four times more powerful than you.”
The look on her face was a mix of humiliation, disbelief, terror, and relief. I wish I could have painted it. I started walking away before she spoke up. “How?” was all she said. I stopped and turned. “‘How’ what?”
“How are you level 40, then?” She asked. “That’s like level 200 in the East, right?”
“Oh, good, you *can* do math.” I mumbled. “Listen sweetie, it’s two different worlds. The East is a peaceful place. You decorate yourselves with jewelry and fancy clothes because none of you have to get your hands dirty. The West is violent and dangerous. Serpents live beneath those sands, dangerous enough that any and all excavation teams must have at least 3 level 30 or greater fighters, one of whom must be a healer. We fight every day.” I pulled off my tunic, showing her the scar which ran from my left shoulder down to the center of my torso. “This is from a fight I had as a level 24 against a Silver Centipede. I turned my head to the right, showing her the side. “My ear was torn off in a fight against one of those serpents just a few years ago.”
She sat in horror. “We die out here every day.” I told her. “You’re in a land of monsters. You’d be best to get yourself an escort if you continue traveling, unless you want to be some beast’s dinner.” I took a step, but again felt the need to say what I had been thinking since she told me her name:
“You should go home, Magnia.”
|
Hana mutered another incantation, calling forth strong winds that blowed with the force of a typhoon. Daisy gulped, bracing herself while she literally rooted on the ground and her skin turned though and rough like the bark, protecting her of the scrapnel that arised by the spell of her rival.
The eastern sorceress changes the tone of her voice and the winds stopped while she surroundered herself with circles of fire. She needed a moment to concentrate them in a sacred symbol before making them explode in a column of flames that engulfed her rival.
The sorceress took a second to take back her breath. Her tongue was dry, she had been casting for almost half an hour and even though she had been using potions to refill her mana she was getting exhausted, and to make things worse she only had a single vial left.
The flames died out, revealing the blackened figure of Daisy that slowly crumbled into shards of charcoal, revealing the witch inside without a single burn.
– Buff... – The blonde woman cleaned the sweat on her forehead. – Good move. Didn't see that one coming. Honestly, you almost had me there.
– How...? – Hana drank her last mana potion before throwing it at the ground, frustrated. – How are you still standing?
– Well... I wasn't expecting the fire so I wasn't able to counter it, but since I was covered in wood I transformed it into a mineral to better resist...
– Not that! – The young sorceress interrupted the witch, who waited patiently for her oponent. – How are you keeping out with me!? Our diference in level is suposed to be huge!
Daisy shrugged. – Honestly? No idea. Not gonna lie, I didn't even knew that you could even get that high of a level. – The witch took a moment to look at the sun and it's position. – Mmm... It's getting kinda late... Hey, look. I have been casting left and right countering you, so I am down at my last two spells for the day. Is it fine with you if we end this now?
– Might as well... I am also down at my last mana bar... – The eyes of the sorceress iluminated with a green glow as an enormous summoning circle appeared in front of her. – Answer my summon... Gashadokuro!
From the inside of the summoning circle a gigantic skeleton made of regular sized human skulls formed, towering over the two woman like a mountain.
– That's... – Daisy made a nervous smile. – Pretty big...
– When one is low in mana a summon is the best cost efective. – Hana smiled smugged, sure in her victory. – Gashadokuro! Finish her!
The giant monster raised her enormous fist, and let it fall on the witch, who started making rapid hand movements while reciting the last words of arcane magic.
Before it could crush her, the hand of the monster was stopped with the shining marks of a ward that surrounded the western witch, who smiled back at her opponent.
– Summoned creatures have their weakness, you know?
Hana gulped nervious, she had basically used her entire reserve of mana to cast that spell. She was out of magic. But still... – Wards have their weakness too. They only protect you from magic. Gashadouko! Grab a tree and crush her with it!
The giant monster was going to follow the orders, but the witch interrupted.
– And who said I am gonna let get crushed? I saved my best spell for last!
Hana looked astonished as Daisy transformed in front of her. The woman started to grow, and grow, and grow, and her muscles started contorting, and her flesh to change, until a gigantic winged lizard stood in front of her creature, still protected with the ward.
– Gashadouko! – Before she could finish her order, the lizard opened her mouth and engulfed the enormous yökai in flames.
Hana looked horrified as her summon started banishing and the giant lizard lowered her fire breathing mouth to her and smiled.
– Checkmate.
|
l79581s
|
l78f13j
|
[WP] “One of us tells only the truth. “the other nothing but lies.” You kill the first guard and ask “Is he dead?”
|
I yelled at our ‘illustrious’ party leader to wait, but as usual the impatient knight was already in motion. By the time I was halfway through my warning, the severed head of one of the twin magical guardians had hit the ground.
“Well, is he dead?” the knight ‘leader’ asked the remaining guardian smugly.
I didn’t even bother to suppress my frustration as the remaining guardian stared at our leader stoically. The moron really thought he was so clever using this method to figure out which of the mystic guardians always lied and which told the truth.
“Yes,” the remaining guardian answered truthfully. “And now you have used your one question and I shall answer no more.”
Our leader just stood there blinking like the idiot he was.
“Great going, asshole,” I said, officially done with his brand of ‘cleverness’. “That’s the fifth quest in a row that you’ve screwed us out of by trying to brute force things.”
“I’d like to see you do better!” The knight yelled back, flushed red with anger and humiliation.
“A braindead troll could do better!“ I yell back. “All you had to do was listen to the people who are actually good at puzzles and riddles instead of insisting you have a better answer! How the hell your ‘brilliance’ hasn’t gotten you killed is a fucking mystery! I’m done! You can find a new ranger to adventure with! Good luck hiking back to town by yourself!”
|
“That’s not how this works.” I say as I raise my spear at the adventurer’s neck.
The jerk killed Jerry. “You are under arrest for attacking a guard and for breaking the rules of the game.” I shift my target from the neck to the shoulder with the speed and strength of a raging river. Not to kill, but to pin down the criminal. I pull the rope to sound the low danger emergency bell.
As the gate opens up and the criminal is dragged away I turn to look at the wretched soul. With all the professionalism and malice I can muster I tell the truth. “I was the liar, until you broke the game. Thank you for playing.”
|
j6q1fbx
|
j6pqpna
|
[WP] As the god of reincarnations, when neither Hell nor Heaven want a soul, it is your job to reincarnate it appropriately. One specific soul keeps coming back to you not so long after each reincarnation. After a while, you decide to investigate why the soul keeps coming back to you.
|
99912672036.
Why did that number keep coming up? Every time I saw it, it would be marked:
* Heaven: Refused
* Hell: Denied Entry
It's not uncommon to see a number more than once; someone may need to be reincarnated a few times to become worthy of Heaven or Hell. But I had this number memorized. Sometimes they'd be back within days, other times, months or years. But they always refused Heaven, that was the weird part.
The day came when the soul stood before me.
"What is your name?" I asked.
"Shay." The soul took the glowing, translucent form of a middle aged woman.
"Shay, I see that you have refused to go to Heaven -- again. You have refused Heaven 6,354 times. You have lived well enough to get into Heaven more than six thousand times, and refused every time. Why?"
The soul cried luminescent tears. "All I've ever had in life is my daughter. One daughter. In my dreams, I'm a lobster whose larvae are all eaten but one, a frog whose tadpoles all dry out except one, a dog whose puppies are all taken but one, a parrot with three eggs but only one hatched. It's always me and my daughter. But she's always so sickly. She always dies so young, too young to get into Heaven or Hell. So I follow her."
"You... have a good memory, Shay. What's your daughter's name?"
"Taylor. Taylor Marie Cooper."
From the eternal, infinite waiting room, a soul sprang forth. It took the form of a toddler girl.
Shay picked up the toddler. Both souls glowed brighter.
"Shay and Taylor, you are together. Taylor, your mother has followed you every time you've reincarnated to learn a lesson, did you know that?"
Taylor stared at Shay and grabbed her face with chubby hands. Again, both souls glowed brighter.
"You have much to learn, but with every lesson, your mother loses you again. This will continue for many more lessons. It is your fate, and her choice to follow you."
Shay and Taylor pressed their foreheads together, glowing more brightly.
"The Gates of Heaven stand before you! Shay, will you finally enter Heaven, knowing that Taylor will be along as soon as she's finished learning lessons? Taylor, will you give your mother permission to go to Heaven, knowing that you'll be there in just a few lessons?"
"No." Now cheek to cheek, they answered in unison.
"Where she goes, I go," Shay said.
"Then I have no choice." I tried my best to hide a smirk. "Shay, how do you feel about losing Taylor every lifetime?"
"It's eternal torture."
"That sounds a lot like Hell, a place which denied you entry. I have no choice but to take Taylor out of the reincarnation cycle and send her to Heaven with you."
"You can do that?" Taylor asked in a surprisingly clear voice.
"I am a God. Yes, I can do that!" I chuckled. "Shay! Would you like to ascend to Heaven with Taylor?"
"Yes! Please!" Shay sobbed.
The Gates of Heaven opened with a dazzling light. Shay hurried inside, holding Taylor closely.
|
Ye gods and little catfish, not again!
This can’t be happening! I’ve done everything I could: sent them to the finest places, made sure they were born with everything they’d need to lead a long, fruitful life, nudged them to make the choices to finally, finally, have a certain path to one afterlife or the other.
But there they sit (well, float), with their beady little eyes, looking smugly at me. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. My bosses are breathing down my neck to get this one assigned to its proper afterlife. If I can’t get it to … no, I can’t think like that. There must be a way!
“What is it you want? What will it take to get you to live long enough to have a meaningful existence, either for good or for evil? Why won’t you make a choice?!” I plead.
The soul looks at me. I could swear there was a grin on its face, tho it’s hard to see thru the shimmer that surrounds it.
It sits there (well, floats), mocking me in silence. Why? Why won’t it just do what it’s supposed to? All the others have done it right, however long or brief their stay might be, never taking more than one or two reincarnations to have a decision made. A few might have taken three or four times. But 96? What in the name of Heaven or Hell was going on?
I look down at its file. Good and evil, both of equal weight. To the gram. It was almost like-
Wait, was it? Was it deliberately keeping the balance so that it would be reincarnated again and again? But why? Heaven was so…peaceful. And Hell, well, I could imagine why nobody would want to end up there. Still, it couldn’t keep up the effort forever, sooner or later it would make a mistake and the balance would shift. Wouldn’t it? It was there each time for so short a cycle that it seemed like it couldn’t possibly have the opportunity to make a difference.
I looked up in frustration at the soul again. It looked back at me, waiting somewhat impatiently.
I sighed and leaned back in my chair.
“Ok ok. Once more into the grind. But please, work with me here. Stick around for awhile. And for god’s sake, keep away from flyswatters!”
|
lczveij
|
lcz3kap
|
[WP] Once an hour, every hour, the richest person on earth dies. This continues indefinitely...
|
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.
|
Alarms rang out deep in an underground compound, while the many suited goons of it's owner rushed to action, quickly shuffling assets to defer the curse. A kilometer below the person in question writhed in their cryotube as doctors and everyone else rushed to their aid, trying things ranging from the cutting edge of science to the deepest pits of black magic, none seemed to work until the transactions went through, at which point our lord stabilized and returned to his torpor. Medical efforts continued until the issuing of the the Proclamation, which he demanded to be transmitted toward Saturn. "I have escaped mortality YHWH, look upon your children and despair as they flock to the will of I, Mammon incarnate of the Earthly realm, Lord of all that is-"
Last transmission revised from coordinates 9.849312, -104.673828 before lightning strike of 37.8 gigajoules observed, followed by secondary explosions inconstant with sympathetic detonation, tachyon signatures constant with emergency phase displacement systems, target fate unconfirmed.
|
js1w4ow
|
js14uqp
|
[WP] All of the local mob bosses have gathered in one area. This could only mean one thing. Parent teacher conferences.
|
Brodrick “The Butcher” Maxwell stepped out of his towncar and eyed the crowd. It was parent-teacher conference day at Brightstone Elementary, and the parking lot was full of parents awkwardly milling about, clutching flyers in their hands or glancing irritably at their phones, looking up the times and room numbers for their various meetings. It was pedestrian. Boring. And *not* something the head of one of the most infamous crime families in the city would normally involve himself with.
But there was something wrong with his kid lately, and he was pretty sure this new teacher he’d been hearing about was at the bottom of it. Now if he could just find the right building in this stupid maze of—Wait. Was that *Fat Tony?*
Brodrick pushed his way through the crowd, coming face-to-face with an overweight, middle-aged man in a heavy black coat. The other man gave a start when he recognized him, one hand reflexively plunging into his jacket. But then he froze, glancing at the crowd gathered all around them. His eyes narrowed as he looked back at Brodrick.
“We really doing this in a school, Butcher?” Fat Tony growled in disgust. “This is dirty, even for you. My damn kid goes here.”
Brodrick spread his hands a little, showing they were empty. “Peace, Tony. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t do it here.”
Tony glared at him a moment longer, then reluctantly removed his hand from his jacket. Brodrick gave him a careful nod of thanks.
“So,” said the Butcher. “Your kid too, huh?”
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb, big man. My son’s been actin’ weird ever since school started this year. Won’t touch the gun I gave him. No interest in the family business. Just gets home and reads his little books and does his homework, like some kinda… fuckin’… *choir boy,* or somethin’. He even…” The Butcher leaned in a little, lowering his voice. “He asked me to stop cussin’, Tony. My own fuckin’ kid! Can you believe that shit?”
Fat Tony’s eyes widened in shock. “Fuck me,” he said.
“I know!”
Now Tony lowered his voice as well. “Alright,” he admitted reluctantly. “Yeah. Susan’s been the same. Last year, for her birthday, she wanted a switchblade. You know what she asked for this year?”
“What?”
Fat Tony spit on the ground in disgust. “Fucking *Space Camp.*”
Brodrick shook his head sadly. “See? This ain’t right, man. Somethin’ screwy’s goin’ on in this place, and I’m here to get to the bottom of it.” He offered a hand. “Truce?”
Fat Tony hesitated, staring down at the hand uncertainly, then gritted his teeth and shook on it. “Truce.”
Now united by a common goal, the two crime lords made their way grimly through the crowd side-by-side. They pointedly ignored the shocked looks and concerned whispers that trailed in their wake, focused on the business at hand. Those who didn’t recognize them were quickly pulled out of the way by those who did, and soon the parents of Brightstone Elementary began to part ahead of them like the Red Sea. Whatever these two men were doing here, nobody was stupid enough to get in the way.
When they reached the classroom their children shared, the door was open and a number of parents were already inside. The teacher, Miss Thompson, was working on some paperwork at her desk as the last of the stragglers arrived.
“Everyone who ain’t a teacher, get the fuck out,” said the Butcher.
The room was empty in seconds. Fat Tony closed and locked the door as soon as the last panicked mother scurried out, clutching her purse in white-knuckled fear.
Miss Thompson, who had not looked up from her paperwork this whole time, finally raised her head at the sound of the lock sliding home. “Gentlemen,” she said. “So kind of you to come. Please, have a seat.”
The Butcher chuckled. “Nah, I don’t think we will.” He walked forward to stand in front of the desk, looming over the schoolteacher. “Instead, I think we’re gonna have a little chat about some of the shit you been puttin’ in our kids’ heads.”
Miss Thompson raised an eyebrow, looking up at the crime lord over the tops of her reading glasses. “Very well,” she said. “But I’m afraid I must insist that you follow my class rules while you’re here. And there is no foul language in my classroom, Mister Maxwell.”
The Butcher snorted at this. “You blind, lady? Or do you *really* not know who we are? I’m not following your class rules, you uptight little bi—"
Whatever he had meant to say was cut off as he choked on his own spit. His eyes bulged as he coughed violently—once, twice, three times—and was eventually forced to lean down and put his hands on his knees as he recovered. Then, his throat raw from the unfortunate mishap, he raised one finger in a “hold on” gesture and stood in awkward silence, swallowing a few times to regain his voice.
Fat Tony snickered. “Good one, Butcher. I’m sure she’s real terrified, now.”
The Butcher rolled his eyes—still a little watery from the coughing fit—and when he finally spoke again, his voice was rough. “Yeah, yeah. Get your laughs in. Anyway, like I was saying. We ain’t here to talk about your *fuckin’*—"
He choked again, his eyes wide in confusion. This time Fat Tony didn’t laugh.
The big man strode forward. “Hey, what is this? You got some kind of pepper spray or some shi—”
Fat Tony, too, began to choke, clutching at his throat in surprise as he desperately tried to speak. But by now the Butcher had recovered, and he was not happy.
“Alright, *that’s it,*” he said, reaching into his jacket and producing a pistol. He pointed it directly at the still-seated schoolteacher. “What the f—” he stopped himself just in time, grimacing. “What’d you do to us?” he tried instead, choosing his words more carefully. He cocked the gun. “You poison us or somethin’? ‘Cause you got about *ten seconds* to explain before I paint that whiteboard red.”
Miss Thompson tsked in disappointment. “I haven’t poisoned you, Mister Maxwell. I simply told you the truth: there is no foul language in my class.” She stood, and the Butcher’s finger twitched on the trigger. She eyed the gun with contempt, then turned her gaze back to the man holding it. “No weapons either, I’m afraid.”
The Butcher stared at his own hand in horror as it went limp, dropping the gun on the desk with a clunk. To his right, he heard the sound of Fat Tony’s favorite switchblade clattering to the linoleum floor.
Slowly, he looked up from the desk at Miss Thompson. For the first time, *really* looked at her. “Who…” he stopped, his eyes flicking to the gun and back to her. “What *are* you?”
Miss Thompson’s lips quirked into a small smile. “I’m a schoolteacher, Mister Maxwell,” she said. “A particularly dedicated one. And I’ve summoned you both here for your parent-teacher conference, because I’ve learned some rather disturbing things about your children’s home lives.”
She leaned over the desk, somehow taller than she should have been, bringing her face closer to his. “And that conversation is beginning now. So if you gentlemen would be so kind… and *take.* A *seat.*”
The two most feared crime bosses in the city shared a nervous glance.
Then, without a word, they sat.
|
Parent-teacher conference day was the only day you could see four black limos pull up in front of Brothers middle-school one after another. The men who emerged from them, dressed in tweed suits, tipped their hats to school resource officer Ackman as they went in the front door.
There was a fragile balance between the crime lords of Brothers. The most important rule was that they didn't touch each other's turf. Every once in awhile, some yuppie would make the mistake of crossing boundaries. Those ones didn't make it farther than a vat of acid. The only exception was schools. They were strictly off-limits, a no-mans land, and by this facet, had become the only location where the bosses could speak with one another fearlessly. Normally, they had no cause to speak with one another at all, but parent-teacher conference day forced them to come together. In the back halls in-between classrooms, the strangest of alliances were formed. New turf was debated and agreed upon. Old differences were reconciled. In that setting, if not for their dress and demeanor, one couldn't tell that they were crime lords at all.
Ackman know who they were, as did everyone else in town, but he'd been told that arresting a single one of them would mean a lot of people had to die. That it wouldn't be just a gun battle or two, no, it would be full warfare in the streets.
One day, he'd had enough. Here was the golden opportunity the police needed to clean up crime for good, and they tossed it away. He'd contacted the police department so many times he'd lost count. He'd gone to the station to demand an answer as to why they didn't take the crime bosses down when they had the chance. They always told him something like "we can't prove they did anything wrong."
He knew it was a bunch of malarky. The police had to be corrupted. Maybe they were even in the crime lords' pockets. Either that, or they turned a blind eye to it for fear of their own safety. Perhaps they failed to see that by taking all the bosses down at once, any threat to their safety would be evaporated. All he could really think of was his daughter whom he'd lost by the stray bullet of a gangster that had long gone unidentified. Sometimes he couldn't bear to admit to it, but that was the real reason why he couldn't take it anymore. Something had to be done.
Ackman was going to dispose of the bosses himself. He devised a plan to catch them at the point where bunches of them were working deals together in the hallways. Once he had them all in his sights, he'd lob a handmade grenade into a lot of them. He'd take care to ensure that he hit only his intended targets, and that nobody innocent would die, just as he'd take care to ensure that nobody knew it was him. That's why he'd slip away from his post discretely, change into all-black in a restroom, and then emerge to do the deed quickly before escaping out of the back of the school. A change of clothes awaited him in the woods nearby.
Once all of the limos had pulled up and all the bosses were inside, he took a deep breath and slipped away from the door. He didn't think anyone saw him as he changed and took the grenade out of his pocket. Once the pin was pulled it would detonate within five seconds.
He stared at its shiny surface for a long time, wondering if he really wanted to do this. It felt like ending his life. If he was caught, he was good as dead. Even if they suspected him, he was still dead, just not as fast. Was his outfit good enough to conceal all of his bodily features? Would they outrun him if something didn't work right? Would some poor child see him and be traumatized?
He didn't want to think about it too long, knowing that he'd just come back to this point again. This needed to be done, once and for all.
He slipped out into the hallway and found a group of three of them nearby, whispering in hushed tones. He pulled the pin and threw the grenade around the corner in one motion. Then he ran out through a double door as fast as he could.
Once he was a few corridors away, his heart dropped. He heard nothing but the chattering of teachers behind classroom doors. By now there should've been a loud explosion, screaming, people running. He ran into a bathroom, thanking God that it was empty. He stripped off his outfit and put it in the trash. This was not according to plan, but something deep inside told him he needed to go back. For some reason, he needed to know why the grenade didn't detonate.
When he got back to the corner where he through the grenade, he could hear their conversation.
"It definitely looks like some kind of toy. I bet a kid tossed it as a prank."
"Looks like a weapon to me. Who would try this type of thing?"
"Nobody," they said almost in unison.
"Turn it into one of the teachers."
"No, it goes with me."
Tensions among them simmered, as if the grenade were one of their turf-wars that led to bloody carnage.
All Ackman could think about was that the unexploded grenade would end up in the hands of some innocent teacher, killing them inadvertently. He deeply regretted the whole idea, and wanted nothing more than to have it back.
He walked around the corner. "Oh there it is," he said. Three men in suits stared at him shocked.
"What is it?" one of them said.
Ackman racked his brains. "Part of an action figure."
"I'm not buying it," another said. "And who are you?"
"I'm the dad of the kid who just threw it," he made something up on the fly.
"Kid? None of the kids are here today," the third said while shaking his head. Now they all looked at him suspiciously. Drops of sweat popped out of his forehead.
"Look, buddy, I don't know who you are, but I know you're not one of us." The one who held the grenade handed it back to him.
"Hey, woah!" the other two men said. "Don't just give him that! We don't even know what it is."
"I don't know what it is, but it belongs to this man. It's not for us to fight over. Today is our day of peace."
The three men were silent for a moment.
"Now scram," the front man said.
Ackman said "thank you" and turned to leave. He looked behind him several times to make sure they weren't following him, then took the grenade out to the woods as carefully as possible. There, he buried it.
It occurred to him that they had taken his daughter's life unfairly, but spared his own unfairly. At once, he decided to make peace with the matter.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
|
ka6s6n3
|
ka5squd
|
[WP] You are an immortal, having to deal with the rather troublesome rumour that your blood grants immortal life. However, what those after your blood don't know is that since you can't die, you are an excellent host to several deadly bacteria and viruses-all existing peacefully in your blood.
|
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“And why should we listen to you?”
“Okay.” He glanced at the ceiling. “It’s your funeral.”
“What did you say?”
“Don’t listen to him. Just do it.”
The blood made a hollow tinkling sound as it dripped and then splattered into a shallow bowl – a crimson fortune.
“How much does she want?”
“I don’t know. A litre? Two?”
“Two? Won’t that kill him?”
“Nothing can kill him, remember?”
“Right.”
He considered disputing this. It wasn’t precisely wrong. There were things that could kill him, he was fairly confident. And besides, he’d learned to appreciate a certain degree of nuance to the notion of death. Going several days in an abyssal blackness, slowly regenerating all the blood in ones body, could hardly constitute life.
In the end, he refrained. This didn’t seem like the right crowd for that kind of conversation.
Siphoning the blood took a few minutes. Zaydi grew weak as his blood dripped, dripped, dripped; his extremities numb and tingling. A few more and he’d pass out. Already, darkness encroached.
“Do you know, by any chance, what your boss plans to do with me after you’ve taken that?” He fought not to to slur his words.
The answer didn’t matter so much. He was only curious.
“No.”
“We’re not letting you go, that’s for sure.”
“No, no. I don’t suppose she would.”
They gave him a strange look. Perhaps they’d never had such an amenable victim before. Well, there was hardly any point in fighting was there. Not as his blood became theirs and the room became dark. He watched as shadows cobwebbed the edges of the room, as the floor and ceiling began pulsing oddly – a sick, soft heartbeat. He counted it.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four...
Waking up was like dying. One moment he was safe and the next –
The room was more or less as he remembered it, though now there was a corpse on the floor. It looked a few days old, smelled like it too. Not taking his eyes off it, he tugged experimentally at his restraints. The ropes they’d used to tie him to this chair slipped and shifted slightly; not loose enough to fit his hands through but loose enough to reach the knot.
By the gnawing ache in his belly, Zaydi judged it’d been a week since he died. They must have taken more than two litres.
With two hands free, he worked on the restraints around his feet and looked around. Unless this poor unfortunate was locked in here by its comrades, he guessed it’d have keys on it. That’s usually how this went. When he walked over, gently flipping the corpse onto its back, he heard an unmistakable jangle.
Zaydi crouched beside the corpse. There was blood on its lips. A crimson fortune.
|
As an immortal deity, I have Seen Some Shit™. However, the most interesting thing (And also the most annoying) is that people got the idea that my blood could grant immortality. Thousands of people have come to me, begged for a drop, and then dropped dead as soon as they drank it. Since my body has to contain omnipotence, only the strongest and deadliest bacteria can survive it. As a result, when mortals are exposed to these super-illnesses that have been stewing in the blood of a god, they die rather quickly. That didn’t stop people, though. One guy wanted to turn the bacteria and viruses in my blood into a bio-weapon, so I turned him into a poison dart frog. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I have a knack for ironic punishments. Let’s see, there was another woman who wanted to try and purify my blood to remove the viruses, so I gave her my blood just to see what would happen. She tried to heat it, but her chemistry equipment must have been from Wish, since the flask she was using to hold my blood cracked, then exploded. Her eyes were filled with my blood and shards of broken glass, so she died rather quickly. One idiot showed up with a gun and tried to threaten me for my blood. I just let him fill my body with holes while I glared at him. After that, I turned him into a sponge. You’d think people would learn that my blood will kill them, but people still try to drink it. There was this one military outpost that was trying to harness “Godsblood”, as they called it, to rain democracy and freedom down on the enemies of America. I let them try until they blew themselves up. Thankfully, most people have stopped trying to get my blood, and since those idiots don’t know how to leave their dimension, that stupid idea stayed there with them. I haven’t been back there in a while, and I don’t plan on changing that. Alright, now you can print your “Interview with the Chaosbringer” in your newspaper and leave me alone.
|
j6ad15u
|
j69r37e
|
[WP] Old mirrors were made with layer of silver. You, a vampire, spent centuries without seeing your reflection. Today, package with your first non-silver backed mirror arived.
|
One of the greatest cruelties that God cast upon his creation is that men must kill to survive. Be it flora or fauna, something must give way for them to proliferate. Men have learned to forgive themselves for this fault, invoking the authority of the creation itself by saying: "This is just the way things are. It is natural that we kill. We were born this way."
And yet, men have not learned to forgive my kind, who kill for much the same reasons as them. No, they have not forgiven us, as I imagine the swine and the trees would not forgive men, if they possessed the ability to do so. I do not blame men for hating us. I just wish they'd understand.
We are the monsters of the earth. In the old days, before smoke and tar covered the planet, they called us the spawns of Satan. They hunted us, they drove us into the wilderness, they burned us, drowned us, shoved stakes through our hearts. Now, they have no name for us. No real name, no name they believe in. So few remain of my kind, it has been centuries since I have seen one of my brothers or sisters. Men have eradicated us, then forgotten us. And though we live long lives, we are, like all of Gods creations, ephemeral, and soon shall be no more than legend.
Humans say that the eyes are the window to the soul. And though I have seen my visage reflected in the calm waters of ponds, or in the cold windows of cities, my eyes always seem to be cast in shadow; I cannot see them clearly. And for many years there has been an itch in the back of my mind, an itch not easily subdued: Is there really a soul behind these eyes of mine? What if, were I to see them clearly, all I would find in them were dead black pupils?
Perhaps we are things of the devil. What else would compel us to consume that which we find beautiful? Perhaps we are the monsters of the earth; nightmares, which deserve to be forgotten.
In their hurry to change, to innovate, to dominate, the humans have done me a service to, quite on accident. A device with which I can finally see.
I gaze into the mirror. I expect to see all the violence, all the killing reflected in my eyes. Instead, I am met with a familiar sight, something which I have seen thousands of times in the faces of my prey: The eyes of a human, full of anguish and sorrow.
|
“Guys! Guys! I did it!”
“What now, Valkonir” my best friends chimed together.
“I can see myself in this mirror! It is a marvel! No ghastly silver!”
“Valkonir, we went over this last week with my iPhone. Remember, you kept asking about the ‘handsome gentleman in the cloak’ in my pictures? Digital cameras don’t use silver either. Have you never looked into water to see a reflection either?”
“I’m usually out more at night” I muttered, feeling the white creep into my cheeks. These youngsters and their tech. I harrumphed a bit and regained my posture, gesturing dismissively as their friendship vestments clanked. “No more food for Jeremy until his attitude improves. And I’m turning off The Office until I hear some remorse.”
“Honestly, the break from that show is worth the hunger.”
“Jeremy, I swear to god you’re punishing us all in order to bicker with our capt- … friend Valkonir.” Muttered Todd.
“Honestly, man, just kill us. Don’t keep us down here feigning friendship.”
That one cut deep. It appears Jeremy couldn’t look past the bites and the guidelines I set up about breaking the chains on the friendship vestments. His idea was preposterous though. I sighed and turned off the tv with by pressing one of the three exposed buttons on the tv remote.
I couldn’t kill my friend Jeremy, he’s a computer guy. Without him, I wouldn’t have been able to get the dvd player connected to the TV.
|
jlaey19
|
jlaa6h4
|
[WP]"How did a mere peasant become the most powerful hero in the land? Sure you're immortal but that can't be all" "Well you'd be surprised how many artifacts will grant you ultimate power in exchange for your life."
|
"How did a mere peasant become the most powerful hero in the land? Sure you're immortal, but that can't be all!"
The supposed villain lay on the ground before me, clutching his chest as he knew he'd soon succumb to his mortal wounds. I paused before answering, carefully considering the consequences of potentially revealing my secrets to a dying man.
"You'd be surprised how many artifacts give you ultimate power in exchange for your life. But you're also wrong, I'm not the most powerful hero in the land"
The villain coughed, "you're not!? No hero has ever bested me before! You must be the most powerful!"
"Powerful, yes. But I'm no hero... You see, my immortality is a curse more than a blessing. And these artifacts do nothing but make it worse. You know, now first hand, how it feels to experience the pain of dying" I said as I pushed in deeper the sword I used to impale the villain. He gasped in pain as I continued, "imagine this pain a dozen times over! And never ending! Each artifact is trying to kill me, but can never succeed due to my curse of immortality! So I resolved to solve that! If I can't die, then everything else must"
The villain looked up in shock, "but, that's... you're insane! I only wanted to take over the world! But you want to destroy it?"
"Yes" I said as I pushed the sword in once again, finally killing the villain. Perhaps I'll finally be at peace once the world is dead.
===============
Wrote this while waiting for a flight and had to rush at the end as the plane started boarding
|
I spread the mixture of egg, ham, and cheese over the bread, freshly pulled from the oven. I place the soggy bread onto my rock, the flames licking my fingers. A faint crackling fills my abode as I grasp a handful of tea leaves, dropping them into my kettle.
“Lavender, please.” Artifact Gold says.
I oblige, as keeping Gold in your good graces is… prudent. The stench of lavender fills the room, and try as I might, it makes me remember.
Years ago, when ma and pa still lived in this humble abode, before the plague the summer before last, this little shack stood stoically against the passing of time.
Now, time has surely passed. The paint cracks and peels in large drabs. I sit alone, enjoying the eggy-cheesy-hammy bread and lavender tea.
|
k497ycl
|
k486ups
|
[WP] You have just been hired as the janitor at an academy of magic. This is of course the most prestigious role in the entire academy. As you are required to have extensive knowledge on everything magical in order to handle any contaminants, mutants, demons, etc.
|
"Janitor. Could you come to the Demonology classroom?"
"What happened now Mrs. Avery?" I say into the earpiece I was given when I was hired.
"Well. I was showing the students interested in dark magic how to summon a demon and I accidentally summoned one of the most powerful demons. They're now demanding a sacrifice or they'll kill us all."
"I'll be right there." Dam can't these teachers be competent at their jobs for five minutes? When I took this job I knew I was going to be busy but not this busy consistently having to deal with teachers being too cocky.
I walk into the demonology room "Alright Demon that's far enough." I see a red succubus turn its head toward me, its large tail swaying behind crashing into a desk.
"Puny human. Only an arch-mage can defeat me. I am one of the most powerful demons of all time. Give up now and I'll only enslave two of your students."
"No. You won't be doing any of that actually. I will give you one last chance to create a portal and leave before I escort you out."
The demon laughs at me clearly thinking it can defeat me. It turns around whipping its large tail towards me. I cast a simple shield spell, not powerful enough to defend against most attacks but very powerful on succubi. The tail crashes into it and bounces right off as if it were a tennis ball hitting a brick wall.
The demon was visibly confused as it lunged at me claws in front to tear my throat out. I cast a powerful wind spell to catch the wings of the demon throwing it out of the window.
"There you go Mrs. Avery. Do me a favor and only call your familiars from now on."
|
The were-vine throttled and squirmed, trying to pull off base. Most of the students this morning on the younger side scurried near the walls of the courtyard. The sandstone blocks offered no refuge as the heavy steps of Mr. Black echoed, distracting the were-vine.
"Why didn't you throw the hot lime?" Black looked at me irritated.
He turned and walked away while I wondered which one of these bags to toss at it.
"GODDESS! You didn't pay attention!" Black was dissociating with rage.
"Crunch is full and on there first, the second should be red the third is lime. You know the other 7."
"I don't want to be called again this week, you're supposed to be independent right away."
Everyone was staring. I locked eyes with Nani, she was smirking.
|
j3wfryo
|
j3wb3ma
|
[WP] "Hold me" she pleaded. "I know you don't like me, you even tried to kill me.... but please hold me". I didn't like her but no one deserved this. So I held her close for a long time.
|
The math I had to do on the battlefield wasn’t much different from the one I used to teach.
Ruptured lung, no pulse. Sub 1% chance of resuscitation. The fact that he’d told me jokes in my first week in the barracks didn’t factor into the problem I was solving – saving lives. I stepped over the body and scanned the sea of corpses ahead of me.
A siren wailed behind me and there was the distant rumble of some airplane or other passing overhead. I would do the whole thing in training, dive down and hold my helmet over me like some admittedly well-built hat was going to save me from a bomb, but the sense of danger diminishes after the first hundred times or so. Right now, it was just another distraction that made my job harder.
“Please…”
I whirled when I heard it. Somewhere to my left. Functioning vocal cords, enough energy to speak. The odds were more than single digits. Those were the best numbers you got in this line of work. I just had to find her…if only the damn sirens would shut up!
“Please…anyone….”
This time I was looking in the right direction and the sirens faded as a plane flew overhead. Friendly or enemy I didn’t bother looking. No pilot was going to waste metal here. So I could pinpoint roughly where she was, because it definitely was a woman’s voice.
I ran, or rather walked a bit faster, stepping over arms and legs when I couldn’t avoid it. Unmoving, nonreactive to pain. Essentially 0% chance of survival. It was worth it to go potentially reach someone who I could save. I clambered over a particularly large pile of bodies that I was confident the voice was behind.
I stopped dead when I saw her.
Her eyes were bloodshot, head facing me. 50% chance of facing my direction. Propellor wing impaling her side, blood forming a seal at the entry wound. Clothes stained with blood, bulging eyes, skin discoloration.
0% chance of survival.
"Hold me," she pleaded. "I know you don't like me, you even tried to kill me.... but please, hold me."
Kill her….ah. It was hard to tell with the blood, but the uniform wasn’t one of ours. The enemy. Just thinking that made adrenaline flood my veins, my heart-rate spike. Emotional reaction. She wasn’t responsible for me being here, for my friends being buried. Humans were humans and all that, but damn it I hated them.
I hated them and I hated her, but no one deserved this.
So arms and legs wooden, I stepped towards her and knelt, resting her head on my legs. She sighed, relieved as she felt me.
“Thank you…” she breathed. “I just...I didn’t want to go alone.”
Her English was surprisingly good. “I’m here,” was all I said.
“I know,” she gasped in pain as blood spurted out of her wound.
I tsked and put pressure on the side of the propellor. “0% chance of survival” echoed in my brain. “Enemy” bounced around in my heart.
But I stayed with her.
“I know,” she continued her voice infused with a sense of urgency that only came in dying men and women with something critically important to say. I’d heard it too often. “This is too much to ask already. Find my son,” she winced in pain and held up her dog tags. “Please, tell him…”
I leaned in to let her know I was listening, to make sure I heard her. Saving lives…perhaps there was more to that objective. Maybe it wasn’t just a numbers game. All this war…I’d forgotten what living truly meant.
“Tell him…”
Overhead a siren wailed and another plane flew over our heads. By the time they passed she was dead and her words dead on her lips.
|
The darkness of the night crept in as the light from my final spell faded away, leaving the men who stood between us and the exit laying on the ground. She stood a few feet in front of me, her eyes wide, as her hand slowly lifted to her stomach. Blood welled as I looked at her, chills running through my body.
"Oh, bollocks," she whispered, her head slowly lowering to look at her middle.
I stepped towards her and she collapsed, dropping as though in slow motion. I picked up speed, managing the half-dozen steps to catch her before she hit the floor.
I collapsed as well, cradling her head in my lap as she bled out in front of me. I put pressure on the wound, but I could tell it had done damage. She'd dropped, legless, and she hadn't moved her feet. Her spine was damaged, if not severed.
"You have to keep going," she said, lifting a bloodstained hand up to point the door. "One of us has to get out of here, to warn them."
"I'm not going to leave you to bleed out on the floor," I told her, looking around. There was no help nearby.
She smiled, though her lips quivered with pain. She was already going pale. "You're an idiot but... would you do me a favour?"
I nodded, trying to smooth her sweaty hair away from her forehead. "Sure. What?"
"Hold me," she pleaded. "I know you don't like me, you even tried to kill me.... but please, hold me."
I didn't like her, but I understood the sentiment. I took her free hand in mine, still pressing on her stomach, but I could feel the thumping in her belly, while the blood continued to leak out between my fingers. Her breathing was fast and laboured, starting to sound wet. The bullet must have been spelled, causing as much damage as possible.
"Look, I didn't like you so much," I said, looking around again, "but I will make sure that you don't die for no reason."
She nodded, closing her eyes. "Thank you."
I nodded, squeezing her hand tightly. She tried to squeeze back, but she couldn't quite manage it. Her breathing slowed as I held her, then stopped. I sat with her until she died, and beyond, watching the woman. She'd taken the bullet meant for me, turning to step into the bullet's path as I finished the spell. I didn't know if it was intentional, but I did know she'd done it, despite the assassination attempt and the rivalry, the thirty years of pranks and sabotage.
I laid her down gently, picking up my staff. I could hear footsteps in the hallway, moving fast; they'd finally located us.
I patted the pocket holding the pouch, reassuring myself that it was there, and squeezed her hand one more time. Then I took off, heading for the exit.
Isabelle's death will mean something, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but it will. The secret must be shared.
|
jxkytia
|
jxkftr5
|
[WP] In a world of superpowers, you're believed to be powerless, but you actually possess the unprecedented ability to stop time. However, you would much rather have everyone continue to think that you're powerless.
|
"Andrew, we need to talk"
And that's it. I knew this day would come. I look in Angela's eyes and I see it. Again. Pity.
"You want to break up with me."
Being able to stop time, among other things, gives you time to think.
Her eyes widen. I can almost feel her guilt. She is, after all a good person.
"I... Please don't think it's because there is anything wrong with you. I just..."
I interrupt her: "Can't have a partner with no superpowers and remain a target of your enemies? Please, Angela. I'm not stupid."
A tear appears on her pefrect face. God, what the hell am I doing? The love of my love is about to escape me, and all I have to do to stop it is tell her the truth. Then why can't I do that?
I guess, even with this monumental superpower, i'm still a fucking coward. I could join the league, easily. Become respected and praised by millions. Then what am so afraid of? The fact that those cosmic fucks, insane maniacs and who knows what else, despite how slim the chance might be, can go after the ones I love? I can't be everywhere at once. Besides, It's not like I need all that praise so much.
I look at her again. The tear is still on her face. It seems I stopped time again. I didn't want to show her how much it pains me and did it subconsciously. I breathe in and breathe out to regain composure and reset the flow of time.
"Angela,..." A loud sound of the siren interrupts me. Red warning. Second invasion this month.
I sigh and stop time. Guess, I didn' t have any plans for the next week, anyway.
______________________________________________
I come back six days layer. Finding a way to climb on the spaceship and destroy it from the inside wasn't easy, but I always find a way. Besides I have as much time as I need to solve any puzzle like this.
I make sure everything is the way it was six days ago and let go.
She is trying to fly away, but I hold her hand before it happens.
"Don't worry, I'm sure Thaumiel will fix this in a moment."
"How do you know?"
"He always does."
|
Biting cold as my heat is radiated out. No air to breathe. Almost unable to move, stuck in molasses of air that refuses to yield. I push my fist toward Grim's face, feeling as air enters the pores in the skin of my knuckles, and vacuum drags my elbow backwards. A bit more. Just a little. I'm light-headed from lack of oxygen, and my eyebrows feel stiff from frost, water considered "me" radiating heat out at speed of light, while absorbing next to no heat from environment.
My lungs feel ready to burst, and I let go, release the hold on time. My fist stops short of Grim's face but the air supercompressed into plasma continues forward, knocking into his skull, caving it in and scorching the hole it made.
I fall to my knees, struggling for breath. My elbow and back of my arm hurt, stinging first from vacuum exposure, then from a smack of a layer of air that filled the vacuum once the push ended. At least air inside my lungs is "me", or it would have been much more devastating. Still, I'm kneeling, head down, breathing hard. Grim lies on the floor, skull caved in.
"Good job, Tim!" I hear over the radio. "Another flawless victory for the league!" Congratulations!
Fuck the league. Fuck my superpower.
|
jqut3np
|
jquhy1i
|
[WP] Upon meeting your boyfriend’s family for the first time, you find yourself facing two problems: One, you learn your boyfriend comes from a long line of exceptionally powerful sorcerers. Two, he has three very, VERY protective older sisters, and they want to see if you’re worthy of him.
|
“You know…before you he was in love with a girl from his previous school…La Merna? Ever heard of it…?”
“…N-No I haven’t.”
“Good. La Merna is filled with petty rich assholes, only reason he went there was because of his ability of seeing beyond the veil. He isn’t like us, we have more…psychical powers as his is more internal.”
“…uh huh…”
“No worries, didn’t make sense to my Olivia either…anyways he met this girl there. In his words he wasn’t like the other rich people, she was in his words…human. Both liked poetry, both liked the same movies and shows that kinda thing…he fell HARD because well…he was in high school you know?”
“I…uh huh…”
“What I’m trying to say is Jamie…he was young…naive….too young and ignorant to realize that people like her that seem kind on the outside can be real monsters on the inside. To not give away too much as it’s not my story to tell…she broke his heart. BAD….so bad he had to leave and start anew here…where he met you.”
“I-“
“Jamie Link Watner….are you truly worthy of my brother?”
“I- Wait I- WHY AM I FLOATING?????”
“This is where your 1st test BEGINS.”
“WHAT THE FU-“
|
[Poem]
So glad we've met as well,
Let's all sit down and chat a spell,
You see we're all witches,
So we don't take kindly,
To girls who come here, that are bitches.
Our brother is the best,
So now you'll take our test,
Or we'll tell him what you always have feared,
We'll sit him down slow, and speak in his ear,
And we'll tell him his girlfriend is *weird*
|
l1ynaib
|
l1y21gi
|
[WP] Every dragon rider gets a dragon egg to hatch upon their initiation to the guild. When your egg hatched, Your dragon came out a bit... Different.
|
*crack!* Another swiggly line apeared on the pristine white shell. Erik couldn’t wait any longer! As his father and his grandfather before him he too would now become a dragon rider! He tried to get even closer to the egg but he practically already had his nose pressed up against it. Papa Gill grinned at him from the other side of the stable, his back resting against his own dragon Feraxis. “Come now boy, give the little one some space!” Erik’s father stood a few paces to the left. His face seemed emotionless, but the pride gushing out of his one remaining eye seemed to light up the entire room. Erik however didn’t even notice. A small fleck of shell had fallen off and he was looking right at a tiny round eye peeking back at him. He held his breath. Another tick, the shell broke open, and out came his mighty dragon. His companion. His mighty flame breathing best friend of destruction. His…
Two brown eyes were staring at him. “Bleah” said his dragon. Erik had known dragons all his life. But he had known no dragon that had ever said “bleah” before. Most dragons hissed, maybe growled, and sometimes roared. But “bleah’s” were highly unusual in his personal experience. He looked towards his father, and from his father to his grandfather. Both met him with and as confused gaze as the one he himself held. His dragon seemed to be doing alright when it came to horns. All the good dragons had horns and so did Erik’s but that was where the similarities stopped. The vertical slit eyes seemed to have been replaced by horizontal slit ones, scales were replaced by short and stout hairs, and claws were replaced by hooves. Erik stared at the baby goat in front of him. Goats didn’t hatch from eggs right? Erik looked to his father again whose eye now shone with mild disappointment. Erik felt tears coming up behind his eyes. This should have been his day! The day he turned into a real man! He looked back at the freshly hatched goat hoping that it had somehow transformed into something more dragon like. The goat sneezed. Black lightning shot out its nose and exploded one of the giant stone floor tiles a few paces away. Papa Gill laugh-screamed louder than Erik had ever heard him do. Even louder than that one time when he and papa had gone riding on Feraxis together. Two tiny wings unfurled from the small goats back. “Bleah!”
|
"Come on, Faith! Take the egg, it's hatching!" said her enthuiastic friend claudia. Faith sighed as she heard the egg hatch. With a shaking hand, she called Master Edward to let him know the news. "Remember, this dragon will define your dragon riding spot, Fai Dear." he said softly. "I'll be right over"
Master Edward was a master of the Fighting to death dragon riding gild. He had been training young dragon masters to care for their hatchlings and then to make sure they were ridable. Never in his hundred of years of teaching would he had been prepared of what came out the golden yellow egg. Faith and Calaudia bounced up and down as a diamond shaped head began to poke out of the shell along with a thin gold scaled body. No wings. Legs slightly stubby. dull red claws. Bright green eyes. it's mouth was also very small for a dragon looking more like the mouth of a poodle. "Master?" asked Faith, tears forming in her eyes. "I... I don't understand." Edward said, picking up the creature in his palm. The creature wagged its tail much like a dog and let out a small roar. "I'm getting you another egg, but since this one hatched here, you are going to have to care for it dear. We'll just not tell the officials." he said thrusting the wingless hatchling in her arms. faith just couldn't believe such a creature was in her house. She named him Hermes-- he was mischivious and often got into trouble. Her master did get her a second egg and she was determined to teach Hermes even though he would never ride, to fight. He was strong, and fierce.
|
jp0fiar
|
jp0b7my
|
[WP] A kid losing a video game, and getting their big brother to beat it for them, as seen from an npc's perspective
|
Not the pit again....this will be the 40th time today I'll have fallen into this pit and had to restart the level. The young one is fun to watch as he trys to navigate through the level his youthful exuberance refreshing and a reminder of why most of us enjoy what we do. But this pit was getting the better of him as the timing needed is precise. as he inched me closer to the edge...again. and i stop, aaaaand stay stopped i gaze out and behold that the controller of my fate had grown frustrated of our continued failures and wandered off. I really couldn't blame him. I to was tired of this view of the pit. Lost in my musings as i wondered how long I'd peer into the abyss until the one called mom would wander through see my peril, and turn off the connection between our worlds.
Into view he comes again, tugging on another being " i really need your help, please? Do this part for me? I'll leave you alone for the rest of the day." His eyes looked pleadingly at the being he was dragging into view. When i saw to whom he was pleading for aid from, I couldn't help but smile. It was his older brother. He and I had a long history of adventuring together. It'd been awhile. As he looked my way he also smiled." Ok, ok, ok. I'll get you to the next level." New vigor coursed through my body as he sat down and picked up our connection. i backed up from the edge preparing for a running jump. "Let's do this!" I thought as i sprinted toward another grand adventure.
|
The foolish adventurer steps up once more, but this time executes a series of moves incomprehensible to the sane mind. After he sidesteps to the left and dashes forward, he suddenly sinks into the ground.
I blink, and in that slight moment, the adventurer had somehow managed to get his legs pointing straight towards the sky and was now uncontrollably shaking, twisting and turning in many different directions. Fear devoured my hope, and I took a step back.
One moment of hesitation led to another, and my chest was suddenly pierced. The adventurer remained indifferent to the unholy acts he had just committed.
|
jh0p6si
|
jh0itzk
|
[WP] “Maybe the real treasure was the friends we made alo-“ “Dude, we desecrated a major archaeological site and half of our team died for the promise of treasure that wasn’t even here!”
|
A puff of dust floated up from its thousand-year slumber as James lifted the lid, fingers finding purchase under the stone engravings. There was nothing inside. “Maybe the real treasure was the friends we made alo-“
“Dude, we desecrated a major archaeological site and half of our team died for the promise of treasure that wasn’t even here!” Dale yelled, echoing through the quiet chamber.
“I’m just joking, man. Calm yourself. Half our team?” James let the lid drop as he turned, seeing Dale lit by the torch, eyes wide. "What are you on about?"
“How can you joke at a time like this, only a few minutes after watching Nura get crushed!”
“Who the fuck is Nura?” James tilted his head. “Is this like a weird bit? You’re kinda scaring me, man. You’re acting like you’re losing it. We knew this old tomb was a longshot.”
“You’re the one losing it! You honestly don’t remember all we just went through? Tammuz? Astarte? Your own brother?” Dale screamed. No way he was acting.
“Calm down,” James said, sitting down the torch slowly. “You and me came here alone. Other than that cobweb I batted off my face, there hasn’t been trouble. Other than those statues you took off the shelf, there hasn’t been any treasure. Net zero, I don’t see the problem. Are those names you said?”
“You lunatic!” Dale bellowed as he charged forward.
That had clearly not been the best question to ask.
James dodged to the side, bumping into the ancient chest. Dale stumbled forward and a stone tile depressed under his foot. Not in a boobytrap way, more of a ‘lack of structural integrity’ way. The back section of the floor groaned as it sank and then fell away, plopping into some water below.
James rushed to bend down over the wide chasm to a natural cavern below, lit only by the now unretrievable light. Dale was hanging by a jagged edge of the stone floor below, feet dangling over the yawning chasm.
“Here!” James yelled, hooking a foot on the pillar behind him. “I’ll throw a rope down for you.”
Dale was quiet for a moment. Unbelievably, he seemed calm now. “It’s fitting, me and Nura both ending up here.”
“Who the fuck is Nura!” James yelled, throwing the rope to slap against Dale’s face. He made no move to grab it.
Dale looked up and smiled before letting go, fading into the black.
“Dale!”
There was another plop, quieter than the last.
James stood, patting himself for his phone in the near total darkness. The screen blinked alive just long enough to show 1% battery then flicked off. “Fuck!”
He tripped over the chest, the bottom had opened out, revealing a secret shelf. Even in the darkness, the small statues inside glowed, nicer versions of the ones Dale had bagged.
James touched one. He expected the smooth metal to be cold. It was warm. He shook his head as a crack of electricity knocked through him. He tried another and pulled his hand back, expecting the zap again.
​
He stood and felt for the wall. He couldn’t think about treasure, he had to get help. Dale might still be alive down there. If Elihu hadn’t been killed, she’d know what to do. James was nothing without her.
He tried to shake the image of her out of his mind as knocks came from the echoing cave below, almost voices in this dead place. Merodach would have been able to explain that, no doubt, if his brains weren't painting a wall in the previous room.
James sobbed, his heart heavy, short three companions in as many hours. He pawed through the dark alone. The four of them should have just stayed home.
The real curse was the friends we lost along the way.
​
/r/surinical
|
It all started when John found the map. I pushed him and my friends to try and find the treasure described because I tought I could make a fortune.
The first one to die was Marcus. We were trying to enter the archaeological site indicated on the map, and while we were figuring out how to get inside of the temple without alerting anyone, Jessica pushed a button hidden in one of the walls and opened the main door. We were Happy at First, but then he got in and fell in a hole. Yeah, it was a dumb way to pass away, but we tought he could still be saved (even tough we couldn't see the end of it), so se got inside careful of not falling in the hole. It was a stupid choice, and I bet his dead body we found later would have told us so.
Then it was Lola. When we got inside the door closed behind us and we, instead of trying to find a way out, got deeper into the temple. Even tough we were being careful, when she got around a corner she got shot in the neck by an arrow. After this we tried to find a way out, but this time they made me stay in lead. Only thing is I have almost no sense of orientation, and we got Lost surprisingly fast.
The third to go was Jessica. She tought she was safe being the last one in line, but when we narrowly escaped the room with walls closing in on us, she didn't make it out for a second.
The fourth One was Mitch, Jessica's boyfriend, and since he didn't like the fact that his girlfriend died very much, he said it was my fault (wich, I admit, was a little true), grabbed me and put me against the wall by holding his arm on my throat, preventing me from talking or breathing at all. And while John was almost having a panic attack in the corner of the new room, I couldn't warn Mitch of the spiked piece of wood that hit him in the side. He got sent flying on the wall and we tried to help him, but he died not much later.
Then, there was left only me and John, and we found out the treasure room was just behind the corner of the room we were in. When we got in, we saw a chest and kicked It until It opened, only to see it was empty, with an old paper note that said "We already took it". Safe to Say John was furious. I tried to calm him down with irony by saying:"Maybe the real treasure was the friends we made along th-" but he cut me short:"Dude, we desecrated this archaeological site and most of our friends died for a treasure that was already stolen! What fucking excuse do you have to have dragged us to our death?!". I responded calmly:"Because it was my plan to kill all of you" then raises the knife I brought for "personal protection" and killed him while he was turned. Honestly, it was way too easy to make them believe there was a real, not discovered yet treasure.
|
ja3yw91
|
ja3n3b0
|
[WP] You are one of the few people in the world who has powers. You have the ability to literally slap the stupid out of someone. You are desperately trying to break into the Whitehouse to stop the president from starting a new prohibition era.
|
"Sir, you can't come through he-"
**\*Slap\***
"You raise a very good argument. Please, come through," the security guard said as he grasped his red cheek where I just slapped him.
I walked down the corridor of the White House with determination in my eyes, my goal simple.
To slap the President of the United States.
Why, you might be wondering? Out of the few people in the world who have superpowers, I have the most peculiar one. I can slap the stupid out of people. It's been *so much* more useful than you might think. Last month, a supervillain tried to rob a bank. I slapped him. He realized that robbing the bank might provide him with temporary riches but will ultimately decrease the quality of his life as he has to run and hide from society. He promptly started using his powers for good to gain not only riches through classical success but also the praise and respect of the people around him.
That was a good fight.
But now *this*. The President revealed his plans to establish a prohibition. Because the first one went *so well*. Because the first one was *really effective* at stopping people from drinking like they have been for the last couple of millennia. Because it *totally didn't* cause rampant crime and gang activity.
Absolute tosser that guy.
"Sir, how did you get in here? This is a restricted area!" a man called out to me. Wearing a black suit and an earpiece, he seemed to be a member of the Secret Service. I turned to him with a serious look.
"I'm here to slap the President. Stop him from being a dumbass."
I saw his trained hand reach towards his gun. My hand was faster.
"Ow."
"You see now?"
"I mean... yeah. This way."
The walk to the Oval Office was largely uneventful - a few well-placed slaps and brief explanations were all that was needed to waltz right in.
"Johnson? Who is this man?" the President said as he saw me walk in.
"He's got some important arguments to raise regarding your latest policy, sir," the bodyguard next to me explained. I walked up to the President, face to face.
"How do you feel about Prohibition?" I asked.
"It's the only reasonable idea. It will-"
**\*Slap\***
"Wh- arrest this man!" the President cried out as he clutched his cheek.
"Hear him out, sir," the bodyguard protested.
"How do you feel about Prohibition?" I asked again.
"I- I just told you, it's the most reasonable-"
I breathed deeply and uncovered my ultimate weapon.
*The Backhand.*
**\*Slap\***
"Ow! Stop that!"
"**How do you feel about Prohibition?**!" I yelled.
"How many times do I have to tell you? It's the right thing!" the President yelled back and started to back away.
My eyes went wide with realization and my terror grew absolute. I... I couldn't do it.
This man wasn't just a moron.
*He was a* ***politician***.
|
Finally, I can see the doors, as I desperately control my breath to not alert the armed guard, walking past my hiding place. The cord extends noiselessly, just as it had done in my garage, and I’m lowered to the floor, which likely cost more than my life. One foot on the ground, rebalance, both feet down, unhook the cord. She is sitting behind that massive desk, familiar to me through endless news reels, her eyes firmly glued on a paper in front of her, while I tip toe inside and close the door. Her head whips up as she sees me and I can see her fingers curl towards the panic button. In a single jump I am in front of her, my arm shoots out and -BAM-! Both chair and occupant go flying, as I turn around to get the hell back out.
“WHAT THE ACTUAL…?!” she demands, blinking furiously. “Get back h…”
I can’t hear the rest. I’m already outside and hightailing it out of there. Out of the gardens, out of the government district, out of Washington.
Back home, I take a long bath. The assault of the president of the United States of America has been on every station, every channel. So far, no news on the culprit. No news is good news. For me at least.
As the first interview with her is about to start, I collapse on the sofa, my hair in a giant towel turban snaked around my head.
“My fellow Americans.” it starts. “I am well. However, this event has brought me a moment of true clarity. We can not go on, as we have.”
“YES!” I tell my little dog. “Booze is back!”
“Mistakes have been made and I have to apologise for them.”
“Boooooze!” I sing, filling a small glass with golden liquid and toasting a wet nose.
“I’m introducing the Nordic model. Expect wide-sweeping changes and far-reaching regulations by the end of next week. Also, I’m ending the electoral college…it makes no sense. One vote needs to be worth exactly that. Thank you.”
I stare at the flickering screen as the Star-Spangled Banner echoes through the room, a bald eagle carrying the American flag swooping into view.
Fuck.
|
jareftc
|
jarcegj
|
[WP]"Halt, foul beast! You shall threaten this town no longer!" Yelled the hero, drawing their blade, an ancient artefact that glowed and became razor sharp in the presence of evil.. except it wasn't only not glowing, but dulled as the hero pointed it at the 8' tall man-wolf huddled in the corner
|
The Wolfman shook cowardly and let out a soft whimper, and Sir Arnold paused..a look of confusion crossing over his face. The townsfolk behind Arnold gasped as he stepped closer to it, lowering the sword ever so slightly. Surely, this had to be the foul beast that had been eating their goats and ravaging their farms for the last six weeks. But his sword never lied, and this creature looked petrified of him. "Speak creature!
So we understand what your true intentions are!" The Wolfman gazed at him warily then stood up to its full height. It was still shaking, and as it spoke, its deep burly voice trembled. "Me....s-s-sorry." It sputtered out, and everyone gasped again, shock and awe filled the crowd as it suddenly broke down crying.
"Just wanted to pet goats. Not eat! Me not the monster!" Arnold stood there slackjawed as the Wolfman buried its head in its hands."What sort of trickery is this?" He asked, still unsure of whether to believe what he was hearing or not.
"No trick, please no hurt me." Arnold sighed then looked out across the sea of people. "What do you all want me to do?! It's clearly not a threat, and I'm not gonna stab it! I don't want its blood on my sword!"
Everyone glared angrily at him, and people began to shout things like "kill it anyway" and "it deserves to die" before the Wolfman spoke up again. "Me not an 'it!' My name Rod!" Arnold looked between Rod and the townspeople, drawing nearer. Then he did the one thing no one would have expected.
He turned, drew his sword on the mob, then looked at his newfound friend as his sword glowed brightly. "Well then, Rod, I suggest you RUN!"
|
Wolf Man: What?! But I didn't do anything!
Hero: Not you! The evil spirit hiding under you!
A shadow bursts from the floor underneath the wolf man, sending him tumbling into the lower floor where he fell into a table filled with food. The chef was not impressed, for the food was supposed to be taken to the waiting food critic and will surely have dog hair all over them.
The sword suddenly glowed exceedingly bright.
Evil Spirit: Curses! How could I have been found out by this stupid sword-swinging buffoon!
Hero: I might be stupid, but you were not subtle.
Evil Spirit: How?! I am darkness personified! I move in the shadows! I hide in the dreams of men! I am the nightmares that plague your every sle--
Hero: It's midday. All I had to do was follow the large patch of darkness moving on the floor.
Evil Spirit: (silence)
Hero: (silence)
Wolf Man: Ow, I think I have soup in my ears!
Evil Spirit: Shit.
|
lon40b4
|
lomrvs3
|
[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.
|
Memories are a strange thing. Entirely real for the individual, as rock solid as we desire to make them, yet incredibly fluid as well. Influenced as much by our own whims and wants as by anything that actually happened, even events that occur right in front of us.
Seeing the excuses people would make for forgetting their keys, wallets, phones, anniversary's, or even simply what time it was, ended up being a source of endless entertainment to me. The effect never lasted long, but it was enough to be amusing even after it wore off. Trying to find a way around White Lightning's impossible speed was my current project however. Something about their brains' incredible ability to process information even moving as fast as they did meant anything I tried to make them forget was reasserted before I could even blink. Quite the puzzle.
White Lightning had been quite insistent that I was a villain most foul initially before they realized how relatively petty my "inconveniences" actually were, especially to them. After that it was the occasional brief slap on the wrist or stern talking to for wasting their time when I was inevitably caught yet again attempting to relieve some poor bank of its government insured funds. Not that I needed the money, but it was fascinating to try and fail yet again to make White Lightning forget even something as simple as their own name.
Then came the day of the headlines. Destructo had at last defeated Musclebound the next state over. Worse yet, Destructo had lived up to his name and actually finished Musclebound off. I had my own fond memories of Musclebound from when I had first started out. Always a kind word for my various "victims", a polite greeting for passersby once I was able to make him forget I was there. The lengths he went to in an attempt to help anyone at all was truly astounding to me and White Lightning reminded me of him in no small part. Though I hadn't seen him in years, the thought of never witnessing the incredible dichotomy of such gentleness coming from such a massive individual filled me with what I could only assume was regret.
After filling away my memories of Musclebound, I considered what to do about this so-called villain who had so thoroughly crossed the line. I was still pondering this when the explosion rocked my small apartment. Looking outside revealed White Lightning in a crumpled heap on the street. At first I was afraid I was going to need to file away two adversaries in one day but then they began to crawl away from the source of the explosion. Looking in the other direction from my "nemesis", I saw Destructo strolling down the street. Here. In MY neighborhood.
Destructo was spouting some nonsense about how feeble White Lightning was, how disappointed he was in them, etc. etc. I ignored this. Walking out to White Lightning I asked if they were injured. "I'll be fine!" they said, "But you need to run! He's already killed so many today!" Abruptly, I realized something. It wasn't regret I had been feeling, it was rage. So many memories yet to be made, stolen away from people who had yet to make them. Unforgiveable. I placed a hand over White Lightning's own and gave what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Forget about it." I said. How odd to solve the puzzle now of all times. He just had to be...still. Seeing the familiar glaze over their eyes and knowing my identity was now safe, I stood and turned to face the source so many lost memories.
Destructo was spouting something about, naturally, destroying me for interrupting his impending victory. Why did they always feel the need to talk so much? I retrieved a familiar memory from my mental files and stalked directly towards the self-important fool. The look on his face changed instantly from narcissistic fury to utter shock as I appeared in front of him almost instantly. At the speed of Lightning in fact. Reflexively, he lashed out at me only to have his arm held fast in my suddenly Musclebound grip. This memory was still fresh and raw, but it felt appropriate to the circumstance. "You forgot about the first rule of being a villain." My eyes began to glow viciously with yet another memory, this one old and dry but solid as stone. "I would call this justice, but I'm no hero. So you are simply going to become a lesson that no one should ever forget."
|
When I arrived, I saw a pool of blood. Not where someone had died, but a full sized pool, like a water park you’d take your kids to. How many people died for that? And in the middle was the cause of it all, swimming in the middle, laughing.
He turned as I walked closer to him, though for a moment, then recognized me.
“You’re the judge! That one villain that never actually secedes in any crime, dispite trying nearly every one!”
“Yes, I am.”
“What do you want, I’m in the middle of a relaxing dip right now. If you want to join me, sign up was yesterday.”
“I have come to judge you”, I said as the small set of golden scales materialized in my hand.
“You? You never do anything, you just talk a little bit, then get convinced to give up and walk away. “
“I walk away because these scales always seem to tip in favor of the hero’s”, I said brushing my finger against the smiling jewel imbedded in the middle of the scales. As I did, it changed into an angry expression, seeing as if in response to the situation.
I think today, they may finally tip in my favor.
“Yeah right”, he said, then started to get up. Only he stopped as soon as his feet touched the ground.
“What did you do to me!” He yelled with anger.
“Nothing more than I said I would. I came to judge you. On your end, I’ll place that power you used to hunt down all those innocent people.” I placed a small gem, and the scales tilted toward him.
“You’re quite powerful, but for my end I think I’ll put the lives you took.” The pool seemed to drain itself condensing into a small red gem that floated onto my side evening across both sides.
“What do you choose for the second one? Keep in mind there’s only enough room for three options on the scales, and the first was my pick for both of us.”
“If this is how your abilities work, then I’ll just beat you at your own game, just like all the others. I choose my desire for bloodshed”, he said with a smile, “it’s even stronger then my ability.”
“Very well”, I stated coldly as the second gem appeared, tilting thing back towards him. “I hope you don’t mind if I make both of my other two at the same time. I choose the potential of the lives you took, as well as the good deeds that they accomplished.”
The scales tipped in my favor again, only slightly this time.
“That little? Ha! Too bad, I chose all the misdeeds that I’ll do! Then I’ll tear you apart, to start refilling my pool.”
A small gem appeared on his side, barely moving the scales, but it was enough to make it even.
“Why’s it so little?” He asked, puzzled.
“It’s because the only bad thing you can do now is not regret your actions.”
Once again, the scales were even. I grinned as I anticipated what would happen next. The gem in the middle had changed once again, laughing at the criminal in front of me, then floated onto my side for the first time. The wait was so much, that everything in his side was flung into the air.
“It seems like today they favor me. I will now say you sentence. You will be stripped of your power. First set of gems dissolved. Second, you will suffer 5 years for each life you have taken, method of execution will be determined by those you slaughtered. And third, you will have do twice as much good as you’ve done wrong. Not even death will let you escape.”
The last set of gems dissolved, along with his powers, leaving him as weak as an old man. Then the spirits pulled him into a cell that appeared out of nowhere.
I walked away pleased, for once I had finally won.
|
ksfklxw
|
ksfkhu7
|
[WP] Your spouse tries to murder you by pushing you off of a cruise ship in the middle of the ocean. Just as you believe you have drowned, you suddenly wake up underwater among merpeople. They resuscitated you by turning you into a merperson.
|
It was pain that awoke me. Not the burning of my lungs, but sharp lines on my neck. It was a cold pain, mixed with the horrific feeling of my skin flapping and floating. I sucked in a heavy breath, moaning at a fresh wave of sensation passing through the slices.
I felt something wrap around my arms, sucking at the skin there. It's touch was gentle, but the grip was solid. I tried to move, but found only a little give before I was stopped. Breathing in another feeling of pain, I opened my eyes.
Instantly I felt the water still touching them. But this time it no longer stung, nor blurred the sights before me. I noticed the thick tentacles first, covering my lower body and binding my limbs. They connected to a central body, one that gradually shifted between colours. Where it started out as an enormous octopus, it changed as I looked further upwards.
It merged into the upper body of a woman. Her skin was pale green, where the shifting colours didn't reach. A mass of vibrant yellow hair was tied back with a strip of seaweed, pullingit away from her angular face. I felt colour rise to my cheeks as I realised she lacked any other clothing, though she seemed uncaring of the situation.
Seeing me look at her, her mouth split open, revealing a row of large sharp fangs. They were reminiscent of sharks teeth, even more so as she grinned. Her voice was garbled, yet I could understand it clearly. "Calm yourself. It is good to see you awake, surface dweller. You have been through a lot."
I breathed again, the pain lessened. Yet then I realised what was happening. I was underwater. I had no air. But I was breathing. I panicked, sucking in more water. Yet I didn't feel like I was choking or drowning. Instead, I could feel a movement through the slits in my neck.
I whispered at her, feeling it harder to speak through the water, but persevered. "What.. is... this?"
The merwoman nodded, holding up a slate. "Good. Asking questions, means your brain activity is acceptable. What's your name?"
I strained again, looking around the room. It was cramped, walls made of moss coated wood. Attached to the ceiling was another plant, a glow attached to a long stem. The merwoman filled a large part of the room, as I forced myself to speak through the water. "What... is... happening?"
She held me firm, frowning. "I get this is confusing. But answer my questions, incase I need to do anything to help you. Then I will happily answer any of your queries. So please, what's your name?"
I blinked, falling back onto the soft surface beneath me. "Kaiden... Holmes."
"Kaiden, thank you. What was the last things your remember?"
I rolled my eyes back, thinking. What was it? I recalled a ship. I remembered a woman. No, wait, she wasn't any woman. She was my wife. We had had dinner. She wanted to watch the stars with me on our balcony. We looked out at them. Then... then she pointed to something in the water. I leaned over the railing to take a look, then... then....
My blood went cold as the memory filled my head. My feet were lifted up. I was tipped overboard. By her. She had wanted to kill me. And she had succeeded. I could remember trying to tread water for so long. But I got tired. And I slipped beneath the waves, my lungs filling with water, and everything went dark.
I blinked back to the present, seeing the woman there looking at me on concern. "I was... on a... cruise. My wife... tipped me... overboard."
She shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry. To be betrayed by one you loved, that is a hard thing to experience."
My eye felt warm for a moment, before it was carried away. "Thank you."
She put the slate down, pushing through the water to float upright. "I can say though you are physically Biut as healthy as we could expect. We will however provide you with assistance for however long you need, to get used to this life."
I frowned at her, momentarily broken away from my misery. "Used to this life? What do you mean? And who are you anyway?"
The merwoman put a her hand to her chest. I felt a little shame as I noticed they were webbed, kicking myself for missing it before. "I am Yallari, one of our blood speakers. Unfortunately, when we found you, you were unresponsive. In surface dweller terms, you would have been considered medically dead.
We couldn't return you to the surface, as that would confirm your death. But below here, we could share our life with you. Our scout gave you the Breath of the Seas, what your people call the Mermaids Kiss. It gave you a chance, and under my care brought you back. It did come at a price though."
She pulled away her tentacles pulling away from me. I looked down at my bare chest, noticing a hard growth down my sides. It matched with growths on my hands, forming a hard crust. I was down to three fingers on each hand, now longer and hard.
The growths on my chest continued, becoming plates were my hips used to be. It expanded out, with six thick legs curled underneath. They flexed as I thought about standing, as Yallari spoke over me. "I had to change you. Normally the conversion process is done consciously, with surface dweller in question choosing their shape. With you, I couldn't wait for you to recover, so I had to let your subconsciousness develop you."
The sting of losing my human body was dulled by the pain of betrayal I felt. I felt like I should be angry. I should be hurt. But all I felt was numb. I turned to her, whispering. "Thank you. For saving me."
Yallari gave a small smile. "You're welcome."
|
"Hey Miranda, how was the party?"
"It was good Tom, real good, say, it's real quiet out here tonight isn't it?"
"Yeah, almost everybody is inside in the party, or asleep in their rooms."
"So it's just us out here huh?"
"Oh I like the way this is going."
"Not for long."
Miranda shoved Tom off the back of the ship with a kick to the chest, it was nothing personal, she.just wanted the money. Miranda had been doing this song and dance for years now, find a man, take out a life insurance policy, kill him and get the cash, and Tom was looking to be no different.
---
Tom was drowning, he had cut himself on the way down, his thigh gushing blood fast as the cut was very deep, he fell deeper and deeper, desperately trying to get higher, but ultimately sinking fast than he could climb. His waterlogged suit was doing him no favors as he could not move quite so well with it on. His last thoughts would be filled with regret, betrayal and burning anger, as his vision began to fade however, a bright white light was shown to his eyes.
---
"Wake up, oh please, wake up." Sarah pleaded with the new gillkin in front of her. She had spent incredible effort to bring him to the elders as fast as possible, hoping to save his life. The village had fallen on hard times, and they needed all the manpower they could get. And so, she had convinced the elders to perform the ritual of kin, and save his life in return for service for a few years, a fair trade she thought.
"Face it, we were too late." Zonu said dejectedly.
But right before she gave up hope, the man stirred, sitting upright with a jolt, his hands bolting to his thighs.
"I'm Alive? Holy shit I lived! Wait what the fuck?" He glanced at his body, then, to his surroundings. He began to panic, and curl up into the fetal position.
"Calm down, calm down, I SAID CALM DOWN! Let me explain. You were drowning in the ocean, you would have died there, infact you almost did anyways, we saved your life by turning you into one of us, it was the only way, I'm sorry." Sarah replied, scratching the back of her head in mild shame at the situation.
"No no, you did what you had to, I'm not going to yell at someone for trying to do the right thing."
"The village elders did have a cost for this though, we've been ~~trying to reach you about your car's extended warehouse~~ running low on manpower and have fallen on hard times. So in exchange for performing the ritual of kin, you must repay us with work, afterwards you are free to leave or stay if you wish."
"Alright then. I really appreciate this, you won't regret this. Lets get to work."
---
It had been six. Long. Years. Since the day he had been killed and tossed into the deep with little to no care. Tom had grown in that time, learned skills, trades, and to love again, but now, a golden opportunity awaits him, through spells of divination and animal spys, he has learned that Miranda, his *murderer*, was staying on a beach resort nearby, and he was **not** about to let this slip by. He made his last second checks, his trident was sharpened, his potion of shifting form was freshly brewed, and his rope was sturdy and strong.
He waited for her to walk by. He waited, and waited, and waited, and finally, there she was, walking alongside another victim, he could see the knife hidden under her blouse, barely poking out from the bottom, the man next to her was clearly nervous, being much younger than her now, likely freshly an adult it didn’t matter to him though, just so long as he didn't get in the way.
He drank the shifter's potion, and walked ont the shore. He knew there would be no one else in sight, his ex was to thorough for that, he grabbed her by the throat and squeezed, wrapping the rope around the legs in a movement that would have confounded the him of six years ago, but he was different now, not so naive and trickable as before, his ex dropped the knife in the struggle, having raised it moments before he grabbed. He screamed in blind rage at her.
"**DO YOU REMEMBER ME? OH I REMEMBER YOU MIRANDA! I BET YOU THOUGHT YOU KILLED ME, ALL THOSE YEARS AGO! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO I AM?** I am truly sorry kiddo, but this here **WENCH** has deceived you, she never loved you, not even a little, she's simply a psycho who kills her lovers for her own sick gain, I apologize that it got this close."
"Wh-wh-wha?"
"I'm sorry," as he drove the trident into Miranda's heart, killing her in a moment. "I suppose introductions are in order, I'm Tom Kelpthorn formerly Tom Smith, I was a man she had tried to kill six years ago. Come now, sit by the waterline, this is a long story to tell."
|
jhx8zx2
|
jhx6vvx
|
[WP] A noble sentenced to die is allowed to choose their execution method. They ask to die in honourable combat against the king's knights, armed with a wooden sword while the knights have real weapons. It's been 24 hours since the execution started and the king is running out of knights.
|
The king stared in horror as the man he sentenced to death a full day ago pulled out the splintered remains of his wooden sword from the throat yet another noble knight sent to dispatch him. He didn't quite realize the prisoner's preferred method of execution - honourable combat against his finest knights - would prove so *hard*. Worse yet... he was running out of knights.
The latest knight, having fallen victim to the prisoner, fell to the ground. His gurgled breaths soon turned to deafening silence as the prisoner stared daggers at the king, wooden sword clutched tightly in his hand. His face was covered in blood from a cut on his forehead, yet this was so long ago it was now dry and crusted; his straw-coloured hair was caked in mud and filthy. Yet despite all of this, the most threatening feature were the eyes. Like two sapphires staring directly at you, they'd make his gaze appealing and seductive under any other circumstance. Right now, however, it felt like staring into two blue flames of Death itself.
"Verter," the king whispered to his chancellor, "why isn't he dead yet?"
"The knights have thus far failed to best him in combat, sire," the chancellor replied dryly.
"Wh- I know that, damn you!" the king hissed back. "But how?! He- he has no armour! Or a weapon!"
"You have graciously provided him with a wooden sword, sire."
"That's not a damn weapon!"
"He doesn't seem to share that sentiment, sire."
The king sighed. "Who was this man again?"
"A governor, sire. He was managing the Aretius province."
"He's a... he's a *clerk*?" the king gasped and cast another look at the man. Chiseled chin, muscles of steel, taller than any warrior he had ever seen... he certainly didn't *seem* like a clerk.
"Yes, sire."
"And his crime? Do remind me. There's been so many lately..."
"He openly questioned your authority and called your rule 'brazenly ineffective and tyrannical', sire."
The king shook his hand and stood up, approaching the edge of his viewing stand.
"You!" he yelled loudly. The clerk, already facing him, merely looked up.
"What is your name?" the king asked.
"You sentenced me to death yet you do not know my name?" the man bellowed back. The king looked back at his chancellor nervously.
"Well? Answer!" he commanded again.
"Guilliman. My name is Roboute Guilliman," the man said. He didn't even seem out of breath.
"I could use a man like you, Roboute," the king smiled. "Perhaps I could be... persuaded to pardon your transgression."
"I take it you're running out of knights then?" the clerk smirked.
"Accept my offer while I am still feeling merciful," the king barked.
"*Mercy*? You don't know mercy," the clerk snarled back; his resentment so clear it was practically dripping off of every word. "You grow fat while your subjects suffer. You build lavish mansions while the aqueducts fall to pieces and the people fell to cholera. You laugh at your jesters while your kingdom rots around you. No; had you known mercy, *this wouldn't have happened*."
"I- ugh," the king scoffed. "What do you want then?"
The clerk took a deep breath. "Relinquish your rule to me. You will receive a charitable stipend to live off of while I fix the chaos you have created. You will be allowed to peacefully watch as the realm flourishes and its people prosper."
"Abdicate?!" the king laughed. "You're as mad as a hatter. *And* wasting my time. I will not-"
The king's victorious speech was cut down when the man decided to do something he hadn't thus far; something that he was hoping to avoid.
He started calmly walking towards the king.
Splintered wooden sword in hand.
|
Duke Horatio gripped his broken wooden sword and stepped into the coliseum arena, his heart steeled and prepared for this very day back when he started plotting to kill the old tyrant and paved the way for the unfavourite crippled prince onto the throne.
There was no denying it, everything he did for his nation to kill the corrupt ministers and topple the tyranny at its very core, they were all treacherous treason on his part. Even though he had raised the newly crowned King Eric IV like his own son, back when nobody wanted anything to do with a boy born with deformed legs, King Eric IV’s hands were tied by ancient tradition and laws. There was no sparing a duke who had cut a bloody swathe through the King’s Court and racked up a kill count of over a hundred men. Even if Horatio was more of a father to him than his actual biological father, he must be executed by law.
The only saving grace was King Eric IV allowing Horatio to choose his execution method. To die in honourable combat against the king’s knights.
The first few fights began with a flurry of parries from Horatio. There was no injuring heavily armored knights while he was dressed in prison rags and armed only with a weak wooden sword. He ran circles around them, knowing that the heavy armors would tire them out faster while he remained nimble on his feet. One by one, the knights would fall, sweating profusely and exhausted. They would swing wildly only to miss Horatio, the knights’ arms grew heavier, and their attacks slowed.
Horatio spied a slight smile on the king’s face for a brief moment that faded to give way to a grim expression he had to wear to prove his mettle against those who had little faith in “King Eric the Lame”. The young king raised a pumped fist shyly, just barely concealed by the high inner walls of the coliseum.
Knight after knight collapsed in exhaustion and had to be dragged out of the arena by attendants. It has been 24 hours of fighting non-stop, Horatio’s strength was nearing its end, his willpower giving way to fatigue.
“Any more knights to throw at me tonight, my king?” Horatio mustered all his energy to manage a shout, leaning against the wooden sword in one hand.
“Any brave knight wishes to challenge the condemned man in the pits?” King Eric IV declared.
“No sire, I think you’ve run out of knights,” whispered one of his advisors standing by his side.
The crowd was cheering, and demanding the king’s signal. With no more knights willing to challenge Horatio, his fate, his life and death boiled down to a single thumb.
King Eric IV stood up with the aid of his servants and propped himself up on the royal sword he had inherited after his father’s death.
He gave a thumbs up.
Not a single one of his former collaborators who conspired to seize the throne and bring him into power must live to tell of his part in his father’s death.
|
kzd43j5
|
kzcrcc4
|
[WP] You are a dragon. The other dragons despise you, because they say you have no read hoard. You always change your shape to look like a man, and you are a guild master of an adventurer’s guild. The other dragons are WRONG. This guild, these people, THEY are your hoard.
|
"Hi mom! Im in the ER again, they made me write to you. Dont worry nothing serious, i just had a bit of a crash. The food is good, the bed is nice and comfy, im getting used to it. Dont cry again please, im still in the millions. xoxo"
I finished the text and locked my phone getting ready to bed. I was laying down full of thoughts and couldnt fall asleep. Number slowly ticking. They dont understand me, they think im insane. Some of them think i made up the numbers, some of them think im wasting them. They dont realise im at the top of the world, invincible. I can be anything, i can be good, a firefigther, a warrior, a man of justice and vigilance. Or i can be evil, the richest man on the planet, a mercenary, a dictator, i can make the world burn.
Ever since i was a child i was racing the numbers in my head, testing my limits, pushing them. I fell off the bike. Minus ten. I crashed a car. Minus hundred. Got into a fight full of drugs. Few hundo again. I dont care, im still deep in the millions.
The comforting ticks in the back of my head drifted me into sleep.
I wake up in the morning my dad yelling. He is coming at me again, how can i be so irresponsible, how can i be this wicked, how can i do this to the family. He cares a lot about my well being but he doesnt understand me either. He doesnt know how it feels to be all mighty. To know what i know.
Im falling asleep again. I sleep a lot lately, they say it is because of the medications. The excessive ammount of drugs i used are causing complications and they cant treat me properly. The little time im awake im spending comforting my parents. Telling them not to worry, i wont die. Im still in the millions.
Days are getting a bit rougher and im balancing between the land of living and the land of dreams. Im rarely ever awake anymore. My family are gathering around me daily, getting ready to the worst. Barely holding myself togather but im still comfident. I cant die like this, i cant die now. Its getting worse but they cant stop me, i will rule the word, number by number i will climb to the top.
I wake up at night, the room is dark, only my mom is with me. Even when she is asleep she is crying. I cant open my eyes anymore but i hear her tears dropping on the handle of my bed. I want to tell her not to worry. I will eventually get better. Im calm, im comfident, im invicible. But i cant speak anymore. Its slowly getting darker. The only thing what remains are my moms tears dropping and that dreaded voice counting after every little cling when the water hits the iron. I outran the numbers. I won but i was wrong, i wasnt invincible. I was cruel.
|
*Three*
I’ll look back at this moment when I’m older and describe it as ‘happening is slow motion’, but it doesn’t. It’s fast. And scary.
*Two*
I couldn’t tell where he pulled the gun from, maybe his waistband? But I’m not sure now and I’ll never be. There’s a swish. Is it from the metal moving so quickly or the rustling polyester of his off-brand polo? Again, I don’t know and I won’t know.
*One*
Somehow the barrel hits my temple before I notice it’s a gun. It rattles my head the way a car wreck does. Scrambles my thoughts.
But I heard it again.
*One*
There was a bang. Outside, downstairs. Could’ve been a car door, could’ve been an echo, could’ve been a premonition. But we both heard it. And I know that because his eyes shifted to his right, shooting to the front door of the apartment.
*One*
It’s the only moment I have. My arm sweeps up from nowhere, knocking his elbow and pushing the pistol up, pointing it to the ceiling, his eyes snap back to mine and his pupils constrict and then immediately dilate. Does he hear the counting too?
*One*
My hand, sloppy and fumbling, somehow gets the pistol, my fingers wrap around the hilt and for the first time I notice how sweaty my palms are. He’s not looking at me anymore, he’s looking at the gun that’s now completely in my hand.
*ONE*
He backs away and he starts crying, weeping, gasping for air, and I straighten my arms, my elbows hurt from locking them out with all my strength, my index finger looped around the trigger and I —
*ZERO*
— squeeze.
*zero*
I never heard the gun go off. I’ve heard they’re loud, that they can’t damage your hearing but, I still don’t remember hearing it.
*six hundred thirty-nine*
The counting came back once the cops arrived.
*six hundred forty*
And it only sounds off when I lie. Can you hear it?
*six hundred forty-one*
|
ll8lls8
|
ll89ls6
|
[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.
|
**Part 1 of 2**
———————————————————————————
Fear radiated through Jaq’s body. She had no idea what they wanted. *What do kidnappers do?*
She didn’t want to answer the question. Her legs, which were tied in criss-cross, were cramping. She shifted in a fruitless effort to ease the pain. In doing so, she realized she felt something in her pocket.
*They didn’t take my phone?* Jaq shifted again, feeling the case press slightly against her thigh through the pocket. *Are they stupid? Rodrigo would have realized I was gone by now. The first thing he’d do is track my phone. The next thing he’d do is call and see if I lie about where I am.* She tried to remember if she’d kept her ringer on or not, but shook off the thought. It didn’t really matter, they’d still hear the vibration. Now that she’d identified their first mistake, she noticed their second; they hadn’t gagged her. She chose not to make this fact obvious, on the off chance they had planned to, but simply forgot, like idiots.
“How much you think they’ll pay for her?” One voice said
“I don’t know. Hey, girlie, how much will you parents pay to see you alive?”
“Not a dime.” She muttered. *Two guys? Well, fuck you both, your asses are done for the minute Rodrigo calls.*
“If they won’t pay a dime, I guess we’ll have to get our money’s worth a different way.”
She felt a tug behind her head, and the blindfold fell away. She looked around, quickly locking eyes with one man, before shifting her gaze to the other. The first man was gross to her; he was the sort of fat that made him seem grubby in nature, his grumpy hands and stumpy fingers clutching the blindfold. She hoped they’d never put it back on; she didn’t want to have anything he touched anywhere near her. His face was no better, resembling a bug-eyed pig in her imagination, with most of his greasy, brown hair lost to male-pattern baldness.
The second seemed to be the polar opposite of the first; he was skinny, similarly to a hardcore drug addict, with needle marks to make her perceive one in the same. His face was sad, and weepy, it was like he wasn’t quite there. Was he high right now? On what?
She thought back to her criminal justice course, where they’d done a brief overview of drugs. If it was a depressant, the addict wouldn’t be of any issue. She noted to herself that she should be careful not to tick him off, on the off-chance he’d taken a stimula-
Her thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing feeling; that was that; *That’s gotta be Rodrigo.* She thought.
The men quickly reacted, the grubby scumbag reaching for her thigh to take her phone. To Jaq, it was his third mistake. She lunged for his wrist, and caught hold of the flabby skin of his forearm. The taste alone made her want to recoil and vomit, but rage forced her to bite down more.
Grubby yanked his arm around as he screamed, She didn’t let go, being dragged onto her side. The addict raised his foot, and pain exploded in her skull; she felt herself tumble a little; she’d lost grip on the arm, but she tasted blood. Her instinctive repulsion kicked in; she whipped up every ounce of saliva she could to spit and cleanse her mouth.
Grubby didn’t appreciate it. “You little bitch!” He went to reach again, but seeing the blood leaking from his forearm, he looked at his drug-addled partner.
*I really hope he takes depressants…* She thought again as the addict grabbed the collar of her shirt. “We’ll fucking kill you.” He muttered. “But don’t worry, we’ll take our time.” He glanced down at her, reigniting the strongest urge to bite through his throat, rip through arteries, and watch him bleed out. The fantasy was tempting, but she resisted it. “That won’t happen.” She said, fully assured of her gut feeling. “You idiots didn’t even take my phone. That call was my brother.”
“So what?” The addict yanked the phone from my pocket, and powered it off. He then smiled as he bashed it until he was satisfied it could have no hope of even being scrapped into useful parts. “Now what’s brother gonna do?”
Only now could she no longer resist. She could see the watch on Grubby’s wrist; They’d only held her for an hour and a half. They had only driven for about five minutes. “You guys are terrible at this. Do you even know who you snatched?” She asked. Her gut feelings reassured her cockiness, “I have 15 siblings, and I’m the youngest, the only girl in fact. 15 brothers.” She found herself laughing, assured of her safety to a point of irrationality; “Hey, let’s do some math!” She exclaimed, watching as their faces turned redder, “What’s 2 against 15?” She asked. “It’s easy, guys, come on! What? Couldn’t cut in it school? Is that why you had to suck at kidnapping?”
|
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.
|
lsdl13k
|
lsd1agu
|
[WP] The hero, normally jovial and humorous in their interactions, steps into a watering hole for villains, shaking with rage, tears running down their face, and with as much patience and calm as they can muster, simply asks "Who did it?"
|
I sat at the bar in the speakeasy, nursing my drink and a headache. The light show this morning hadn’t done me any favors, nor had the earthquake that followed. While no one claimed responsibility for the crime spree, the celebratory laughter from the back booth suggested the likely culprits. I glanced in their direction but didn’t recognize any faces - rare after over 200 years of coming here.
The lights seemed to shine brighter, prompting me to bury my face in my hands and groan.
“You good, ‘lock?” Sam asked, leaning in. I lowered my hands to respond, only to realize the lights were indeed intensifying. I grabbed Sam’s head, pulling him down toward the counter while covering the back of my head with my other hand. Bulbs began to burst, and then the door slammed open. I looked up and swiped my hand through my hair to check for glass. I turned, trying to recall any spells to defend myself.
In the doorway stood Bubblegum, the newest and youngest member of the city’s hired heroes. Her bright pink and white outfit contrasted sharply with the red on her face. She was shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks as she scanned the room.
"Who did it?"
Her usually upbeat voice was laced with fury. In all my encounters with her, I’d never seen her without a smile. A sense of unease settled in my stomach, more than just my migraine. She had faced earthquakes before, and while the light show was new, it didn’t seem inherently dangerous; I am not sure where this anger had come from.
Pink lightning danced around her arms, drawing my attention to a small package she held.
Suddenly, I realized why my stomach was in knots.
I stood, unable to control my movements, walking toward her. She was trying to catch my eye, searching for a confession, but my gaze was fixed on what - who - she was holding.
As I reached her, I extended my hand. She flinched but relaxed when she saw I meant no harm. I brushed the blanket aside and confirmed my worst fears: a child, less than a year old. I cupped his face in my hand and looked up into her tear-filled eyes. Though her tears flowed just as heavy, there was an understanding between us.
“No children. I have few rules, but this is number one.” I whispered the words, yet everyone in the bar heard me. My eyes glowed with an unholy shade of green, and the baby’s cheek grew warm. A hazy cloud surrounded him as I inhaled deeply. I chose not to tell her what was happening - I wasn’t sure she could bear the truth of the child’s last moments. Fear, drowned in tears, all alone. She looked to me, hope and desperation mingling in her gaze, pleading for me to save him.
"I can't fix him, child. I am sorry."
I turned my gaze to the back booth, confirming my earlier suspicions. I extended my hand, and a shadowy copy of my hand continued where my reach stopped. The ghastly appendage curled behind the group, then snapped back, launching them toward the front of the bar. Ghostly tendrils secured each of the four to the ground, binding their limbs and muffling their protests. Their fear was palpable. I almost missed this part of my powers.
I had no intention of sharing this darkness with Bubblegum; it had long been mine to command. I wouldn’t ask her to punish those who broke my rules.
"What do you intend to do with them, Warlock?"
I grunted in response. “They are no longer a problem. You may watch, but I suggest you leave.”
I waited until her footsteps faded, not bothering to stop the other villains following her. They knew what happened when you ignored the rules. The tendrils tightened, and the muffled screams were barely audible over the sound of breaking bones.
|
I was relatively new to the supervillain business, a villain with the power to control water called La Siene. Now don’t go judging me, villainy pays well. Well it does as long as you aren’t in Paris. The Hero Ghost has built a whole network of heroes and informants to protect Paris from the Legion. Even the birds fought for him. But it wasn’t like Ghost was ruthless. He was famous for his care for those he defeated, many of the people on his team were villains that he’d reformed. He even married one.
Long story short, Ghost was famously kind and friendly, despite his serious demeanour, but he was also impossible to cross with that network of his.
One night the legion was having a social at a bar when the door was smashed open. Ghost stood there, furious. His entire body is concealed by his costume, yet the tenseness all over and the way he carried himself, nobody dared speak as he walked in.
“Who. Did. It.” He demanded.
“You’ll have to be more specific,” one of the more smug villains said as he recovered.
“The orphanage. You’ll tell me who did it,” he pulled out his pistol, “or I’ll kill all of you to make sure they die.”
“You seriously think you can intimidate us like that? We know you. You don’t-“
The gunshot went off before I realised he’d raised the gun. There was a hole in the man’s head as a look of shock passed over his face and he crumpled to the floor. There was a deathly silence.
“Don’t make me have to ask a second time.”
“What makes you think you can beat all of us.”
A loud thud rang out as Ghost dropped his backpack and brought out a power core. We all stared in shock. This core allowed him to channel a stars energy through him, but it also gave him severe cancer. He hasn’t used it since he got married.
“My family lived in that orphanage. It wasn’t blood but who cares. I became a hero to protect my family and that’s also why I stuck to my morals. Without them, what’s the point in being heroic.” He glared at every terrified face in the crowd.
We all looked at each other, waiting for the one responsible to step forward. No one did.
“I guess it’s partly my fault. I gave you too much space. Too much freedom. Not anymore.”
I was the only one to escape that bar alive. I had 3rd degree burns across my entire body, 4th degree on my hands (completely burnt down to the bone) I spent a month in a coma before waking up. When I did, I found out that not only was I convicted for all my crimes, but Ghost had taken down the entire legion, dismantling until it was a bunch of fractured pieces clinging onto life. Many villains went to jail, many more died.
If I could go back, I would. Not to the day Ghost entered the tavern to stop him, that would have been impossible, but to the day before, so I could stop myself from destroying that damned orphanage.
|
jvvzs3k
|
jvvo950
|
[WP] The witch begs your forgiveness for cursing you as a baby; she was young and hot-headed, and would you like her to undo the curse? You aren't sure what to say as this is the first you've heard about any of this.
|
I’m not even sure if I have the correct address or found the correct person. It has been so many years ago since I was this young and hot-headed teenage witch. Now, much older, wiser, and less reckless, I had travelled far and wide to find the young man I had cursed in a fit of rage.
It wasn’t even the boy’s fault, his father was the asshole in question, but I had instinctively cursed his firstborn child. It’s in the witch’s handbook, you’ve heard the cliché, demand the firstborn child as payment or curse it.
“You’re Robert Marsh?” I asked the fish-faced creature before me. My curse was horrible, but it shouldn’t have advanced to the point where he was no longer human. “I may have cursed you as a baby in the past, but today I’m here to undo the curse.”
“Yes, that's me alright, I'm your guy. I don’t know anything about a curse though,” he replied, shaking his head, gawking at me with his bulging eyes. “If anything, I think I’m quite blessed.”
“Oh dear, you don’t even know you’re cursed…” I sighed, my strained voice heavy with remorse. “Have you looked into a mirror? Have you looked back upon your life and seen all the horrible things that have happened to you? Or the unusual life choices you made?”
“Why don’t you come in and talk? I can prepare some tea,” Robert invited me in, not a hint of anger or confusion despite what I had inflicted upon him. “You could tell me your story and share with me this supposed curse you tried to cast on me.”
“Coffee please, I’m not much of a tea person.”
“My lord has always been a huge fan of tea. So, pray tell, what is this curse you speak of?” His eyes filled to the brim with curiosity.
“Your father, he was such a playboy, and I was such a fool. When I discovered he dated me on a bet with his horny friends on how many girls he could hook up with in a month, I cursed him. Or rather you. If he was going to toy with the feelings of the women who fell in love with him so callously, his firstborn would be falling in love with monsters. For a man who fucked with a witch and broke her heart, he was doomed to only have one child, and a monster fucker of a child.”
Robert chuckled and nodded, “Cool story, I guess that sounds believable. I’ve always been fascinated by the supernatural growing up. Read lots of fantasy and horror stories, wrote fanfiction of my self-insert hooking up with cute monsters.”
“So, Robert, do you want to undo my curse?” I popped my question with much apprehension. A part of me hoped it wasn’t too late, or if my countercurse could even break the spell of whatever monster had enthralled him.
He just shrugged with a sunny smile on his hideous face. “I told you earlier, it’s a blessing to me.”
“You found someone you love despite the curse?” I said, my hands trembling and shaking, barely able to hold my cup of tea without spilling it all over the table. It was my worst fear, he’d fallen in love with a monster and embraced the transformation into…whatever freak he is right now. Who knows, they might have even made monster babies.
“Yea, I sure did,” his protruding eyes were positively glowing. “My lord is the most awesome person I’ve ever worked for. He pays well and on time, I get ample annual leave, great benefits, divine gifts, and my wishes granted. The best thing was definitely transcending my mortality to become a Deep One of the Seas. What’s not to love about Lord Elvari? You should meet him, he's a real charmer, got the most mesmerizing eyes a vivid shade of violet I ever seen.”
My jaws promptly hit the floor and my eyes almost leaped out of their sockets. Did I hear it correctly? The poor child’s gay for an eldritch lord. The curse had taken root too deeply, compelled him to accept cursed gifts I couldn’t possibly undo from a much more powerful eldritch entity with a hypnotic gaze too intense for a former human to resist.
“Robert, I’m sorry for taking up your time, doesn’t look like I could do anything for you. I’ll be taking my leave,” I muttered, jumping on my broomstick and taking off as fast as I can.
---
[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/)
|
The journal my mother had hidden in the attic, mildewed and falling apart, had stuck out like a nail in an old board as I was cleaning out her old house. I hadn't spoken to her in years, yet here she was, laid out page by page. She wasn't a good mother, some might have called her a witch, others a naturopath, some others crazy. Her snide and cold demeanor presented to veil the fear she had. Anyone who truly knew her could see it. I never understood as a kid why she treated me the way she did. Post partum depression wasn't exactly in the vocabulary of a young woman afterall. I only knew what I saw, what I felt, and now the only thing I feel is the rough edge's of a home made leather cover on an otherwise poorly made journal. It smelled. A thick layer of dust covered the compressed pages, some stained with what I can only imagine are ointments and potions of which she used to give me when I was ill. The stains remind me of the sharp taste, and even sharper tone my mother would give me when I made a fuss.
The leather creaks and strains as I open the journal, and a heavy weight fills the air. The first page is a complex pentagram, one I've seen before. The weight that fills my stomach as my eyes trace the formation was enough to buckle my knees. I didn't believe in witchcraft. I didn't believe my mother loved me. Yet, here I am, looking at a curse. The blood of *something* making up the intricate symbols with my name as its center. Latin scribbled in haste across the page. **Ut vita sanguinis fiat humore mortis** May the life of blood become the fluid of death. My mind stopped, everything stopped. Through the rest of the pages, curses all the same. Every page, **ut vita sanguinis fiat humore mortis ut vita sanguinis fiat humore mortis ut vita sanguinis fiat humore mortis ut vita sanguinis fiat humore mortis ut vita sanguinis fiat humore mortis**, it never ended. Dizzied and emotionally beaten down, I don't know what to think of this new revelation. I've always suffered of leukemia, ever since I was a child. Only because of my father, have I made it this far. The attic walls felt as if they were caving in. Everything around me squeezed with a pressure as immense as a dying star. Why would my mother curse me like this. I hadn't done a thing but be born hers. An entire journal, filled of blood curses. My hands frozen on the pages, as if not to let any more of them out into the universe. No. I couldn't accept it. There had to have been a reason. Frantically, I continued on, page after page, searching for an answer. Only on the final page of the journal, on the inside of the leather of the hardcover, a ward, carved into its surface. **Maledicta qui scribis, lacrymis matres Non** curses lie on those who write, for weeping mothers have no right. My doctors had lead me to believe that my leukemia was genetic, but my mother had never had it until her death. I didn't believe them. I was unlucky, I was the first in my family to have it. It couldn't have been genetic, and it wasn't. Laid out, in this journal, the burden of proof.
My mother wasn't a good mother. The was cold, and callous, and participated in weird practices and hobbies. Me and my father wrote off a lot of her behavior, even before they separated. Yet, in these pages lay her truth, naked and for me to witness. She loved me, and for that, I will never forgive her.
|
juj5qet
|
juig22p
|
[WP] You're standing at the altar, about to get married to your beautiful fiancée. When suddenly the king of demons bursts through the door of the room, which naturally causes panic. You tried to warn everyone that inviting your sibling to the wedding would mean trouble, but they kept insisting.
|
"David, you've got to handle this" I whispered" You promised we'd be safe!"
It's really hard being brother to David the Demon-Slayer. I've been kidnapped, tied-up, beat-up and left for dead. It took me months to regain my strength and Julia was there to nurse me through the worst of it.
I've never been jealous of Dave despite what the tabloids would have you believe. He's a skilled warlock who's managed to save the city twice from destruction. They gave him a parade and the key to the city. I'm genuinely happy for him. But I don't have powers and he's got powerful enemies. I try to stay away and keep a low profile.
But for the important events in your life everyone says you can't keep you family out of them. I thought perhaps we'd be able to avoid the danger.
"I'M NOT HERE TO CAUSE YOU HARM HUMAN" the Demon King Bellowed.
"But you and David have vowed to kill each other!" I protested.
"BE THAT AS IT MAY", the Demon King Continued. " TODAY IS NOT THE DAY FOR BATTLE, SIT DOWN EVERYONE, I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO ATTEND MY DAUGHTER'S WEDDING."
Our guests continued to stand, as I felt my head start to spin a little. Julia was the Demon King's Daughter? What did this mean? I thought her parents were dead!
David looked at me with amusement as he said "Well, you sure know how to pick em. Jim"
|
*"Sorry I Am Late. The Transrealm Substation Is Only Running One Line Today, "* He said in a voice that simultaneously sounded of the screams of one thousand damned souls and the thunder of a mountain storm.
"Paz, bro, turn off your Hell voice. You are in the mortal realms"
"Oh, sorry about that." Said Pazuzu, King of Demons and of the Nine Hells. "Please continue. Sorry again.
"Just don't start a fire this time." Kai said as he turned back to his stunned bride. "I told you he is always late, and it would make a scene. Now we have to get everyone seated again"
|
jknjz25
|
jknh9gi
|
[WP] Humans have a reputation amongst the other sapient races. Not just for being ambitious and adaptable, but also for being monstrously disgusting. Most view them as lumbering hives of parasites, diseases, dead skin cells and bacteria. They are biological weapons; children of pestilence.
|
The Bleaching is what's known as a convergent civilizational development cornerstone. At some point, between phase one and phase two, a young sapient species will grow past their biological roots and transcend to a form that typically shares the shape and function of their evolved vessels, with none of the drawbacks or idiosyncrasies.
This usually means isolating themselves from the biosphere entirely. Acquire energy directly from light or electricity; optimize energy use so virtually none is wasted, break free from the needs of the body entirely. Fear no disease. Fear no poison. Fear no pollutant. Fear not time itself. Completely synthetic and optimized cellular facsimiles of themselves, engineered for the new lives of a young, space-faring civilization. Not just safe from, but completely incompatible with organic cellular life unilaterally.
The Bleaching. Freedom from the chaos of the biosphere.
Then along comes Humanity. At first we took their clunky exosuits as some sort of primitive, half-executed attempt at a bleaching. Some species opt for the autonomous shell, leaving their previous forms behind entirely. There are merits to that approach, but most are understandably reluctant to evolve themselves so drastically.
Imagine our surprise when, separated by a floor-to-ceiling plane of glass, the Humans shed their suits revealing unchanged, natural, purely organic physical forms. We could practically see the miasma of bacteria and viruses swarming around them with each breath; we could only imagine the stench as their digestive tracts churned their never ending cycle of consumption and expulsion.
Quite considerate of them, really, to take isolating measures. Or, more likely, they simply still have the fear. Vulnerable to any microbe they're not inoculated to, vulnerable to moderate changes in air pressure, vulnerable to simple trauma.
They laughed when we explained the Bleaching to them. So quaint, laughter; imagine having an involuntary response to amusement. But laugh they did, at their own hindsight, readily admitting that a Bleaching is much simpler compared to the measures they take to survive in space.
And those measures boggle the mind more so than anything the galaxy has encountered before. Pressurized vessels, shielded from the radiance of stars, spinning wildly to approximate gravity, their organic passengers literally freeze-dried, just to arrive at their destination before aging and succumbing to time. Completely artificial autonomous animunculi; toeing the line of sentience themselves, but constrained by engineered limits and compulsions. Slaves, really. Some completely without form, constrained to their digital systems, used for computational and automating purposes. Androids they called them. Or AI's.
We couldn't believe it. Instead of a bleaching, they had manufactured walking, thinking machines that easily qualify as bleached.
And along with their laughter... An ounce of pity. While we exchanged pleasantries, they imbibed food and drink, stuffing themselves, really; they had prepared double the amount necessary, unaware that their hosts wouldn't indulge.
And for the first time in thousands of cycles, we looked back, questioning what we had given up. Our world can be cold. We suffer not the failures of a volatile mind, knowing that we couldn't thrive if we destroyed each other.
Short-term reward drives, summarily neutered to pave the way for long-term cooperation. Selflessness. In the name of progress.
Selfless. Just like their androids. Which begs the question...
Did we truly choose our path?
|
A horror arrived on my homeworld today. From my window, I watched them stumble out of their ship, so sleek and silver, all rounded edges and mirrored surfaces, now so juxtaposed from the creatures residing within. At first, I thought them beautiful. They had bulbous, radiant helms that shone in the light of our sun, strong and stocky limbs. Their markings were all whites and grays, with patches of colour on their torso, so different from my own. They were giants, their helms cresting the tops of the largest buildings in my village. It was only when they began to shed their exoskeleton that I finally understood.
Word had spread quickly across the galaxy once the first world fell. Beware the harbingers, it said, and pray. Do not treat with, interact, or look upon. They may seem slow, harmless even. Take not their beauty for safety, they wear a mask behind which death itself resides, waiting to burst free. We laughed when the stories first reached our ansible. They became tales that mothers tell at night, to keep unruly younglings snuggled deep in their burrows. How could something of such terrible pestilence exist? They would collapse unto themselves, eaten by the very things that lived upon their flesh. We should have listened. We should have known.
First came the bulbous helms I thought so beautiful. Underneath was a totem of disease, a vector of death. Its skin was clammy and wet. Even from this great distance, I could see thousands (No, millions!) of tiny creatures crawling through its pores, swimming in the crusty, gelatinous oceans that were its eyes. Atop its head was a matted mass of fur, constantly sifting and shedding, home to all manner of pathogens, hugging each strand as tightly as a newborn would its mother. I retched, frozen in disgust, sick spilling from my mandibles, coating my thorax. The creatures made clacking noises at each other, the skin where their mandibles should be tearing open, spewing death, and I looked into the maw of the beast. A wet cavern of infection, malady abound. Tiny pieces of themselves constantly spewed outwards, coating the buildings around them, the ground, the very air. I can feel my limbs beginning to stiffen. I fear that this —
\*\*\*
Garth removed the last pieces of his suit, doused his face in some water, and hacked a loogie to the side of the landing site.
“Finally a friendly atmosphere”, he said, breathing deeply.
“I fuckin’ hear ya pal”, said Brunson, who was blowing his nose with grandiose trumpets. “Still has me congested”.
“Think we’ll find an alien this time?”
Brunson finished his final trumpet, wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and ruffled his hair.
“Eh, probably not.”
|
kbg8t7u
|
kbfjqq9
|
[WP] Nuclear weapons have been banned for so long in the a galactic community that most aliens think they’re just fairytales. Imagine their surprise when they see humans using them in a war.
|
The congress was in tense debate. Polaris-5, a mining colony on the fringes of human space, had fallen into the hands of alien invaders a few hours ago. “This is the correct time to invoke article 62” declared the president “to defeat these aliens, we must ensure that atomic flame is cast upon them without prejudice, or mercy. There is no diplomatic alternative, we must use a display of force.” An opposition had formed and many representatives had betrayed their parties or switched sides in a rare move regarding the future of the nation. One member of parliament rejected the presidents speech. “This is not the time to betray our morals. By doing this we are escalating a border war into a quest for the annihilation of our own species or theirs. Would we truly risk this, for the sake of our people?” The vote came in. 200-179 in favour of the invocation of article 62 of the constitution. The president spoke again. “I hear by declare that strategic and tactical nuclear warheads have been permitted until an indefinite amount of time has passed. We shall hold another vote on this topic in
a week.” With the weapons temporarily decriminalised, a strike was authorised. A flight of 40 aerospace and atmospheric attacks crafts took off from a nearby carrier, deploying 126 at-72 ‘anvil’ strategic nuclear warheads. Visible plumes of atomic fury destined the world to by cleansed in a crucible of radioactive fire, wiping out all alien presence on Polaris-5. On the ground, hell had been brought down on the aliens, the planets weak atmosphere igniting with a sinister crackle and burning in a runaway affect that obliterated every last cell on the planet. No one survived, even alien battleships in atmosphere where completely destroyed, their hulks drifting towards the planet slowly sentencing them to be shipwrecked on the newly emerging hellscape.
|
In a household of little green men, the TV played a broadcast of Earth. The son and daughter sat on the floor in front of the flat screen TV, legs crossed. "Mom", said the girl, "Do Earthlings know that we watch them?" "No, honey", said the mother walking in. "A war has broken out", said the announcer. A giant missile soared through the air before landing on a town and exploding. A mushroom cloud formed. "That's a nuclear weapon!", shouted the boy." "They're real?", asked the girl. "Maybe they have unicorns on Earth, too", said the boy. "Now, don't be getting any ideas", warned the mother. "About what?", asked the daughter. "Building nuclear weapons", she replied. "Don't worry, Mom. I would never make anything that dangerous", said the son. "You almost killed dad with your jetpack", said the girl, almost giggling.
Later, the son laid on his bed while Nuclear by Mike Oldfield played on his speaker. The daughter passed by, stopped, and stared. She looked like a mom about to discipline her kid. The son looked up at her. "What?", he asked, offended.
|
jbham3g
|
jbfqf96
|
[WP] You are 1 out of 50 people who participated in a human trial study for an "intelligence serum" that was supposed to boost IQ and other various intellectual parts of your brain. You are the only one who hasn't gone insane.
|
"How do you feel?"
"Normal?"
"Really? just normal?"
"Okay. Well, no, but."
Impatient clipboard-tapping urged me to continue.
"I mean, I keep taking shape-rotation tests and doing well, but I was already decent at those. I guess the math problems are a little easier now."
"And... the questions at the end?"
"Yeah, I meant to ask about those. They feel more like, I dunno, depression index questions?"
"They are depression index questions, I'm not going to lie to you. But you're feeling okay?"
"Yes. And honestly, I'm weirded out. I know this should be a double-blind study, but I definitely took the real drug. I just don't get what side effects you expect me to experience."
"Well... okay, look. I'm going to break protocol for a second and say that you're the only one in the non-control group still showing up to your sessions. Your cohort are experiencing some dramatic life changes."
"Like...?"
"Hospital. Prison. The morgue. A *bunch* in the morgue. The ones we managed to talk to all say that they've 'cracked the code' or something. We think this drug might make you smart enough to figure out the meaning of life, and apparently it's terrible."
"Oh. Yeah, well, okay."
An eyebrow invited me to continue.
"There is none. Humans are iterated chemistry, as are all life. Nothing matters, morality is imaginary, there's no afterlife."
The eyebrows furrowed.
"and when you first really realize it, it hurts. It's, like, a major bummer. Maybe if I had just learned that now, I'd be robbing a bank somewhere? But I was still a kid at the time, barely a teenager. So what could I do? Wake up for school, drink coffee, write angsty poetry. I wasn't doing amazing at the time, but after a few years of unmoored nihilism you decide to live anyway. You can't just stare at the void all the time, there's nothing to find there."
"I see. I mean, I think I see."
"Maybe not. You're squirming like you're uncomfortable; you probably still have some hope to improve the species, hence the labcoat and drugs and clipboard."
"So are the drugs worth taking?"
"Not if you're driving yourself anywhere alone in the next few months. But, y'know, might as well."
"Um, okay. Last question. Any plans for the future?"
"Yeah. Keep working until something easier with about-as-good pay comes along. Marry someone, have a few kids."
"No bank-robbing? No terrorist attacks?"
"Negative expected value. I could preplan a heist on the treasury, but my smart ass would still have to be able to aim a pistol faster than a security guard, which I can't. So, no. Stock markets are the only way I'll be robbing anybody, thanks."
|
They said our IQ would go up. It did.
Then they all went insane. All at once
Me? I’m the last one left. There are guards all over the place. They came into my room and were halfway through dragging me out into the hallway when I asked what they were doing. Then they let go.
It turns out everyone else simply started screaming incoherently and tried to kill everything in sight. So when I spoke they were surprised. Didn’t stop them from taking me to a more secure location.
I’ve been here for two weeks now, and recently convinced one of the newer researchers to start a D&D session with me. He has no one at home, and we bonded quite well. I help him out in the lab during the day, we play D&D in the evening, and at night I sleep with a gun pointed at my head for if I sleep talk too much.
Still, there are other issues. MRIs show that my brain activity mirrors that of the insane guys, but I am as sane as I was before the drug. I think. It’s a bit hard to measure.
————
Year one and a half here. I was clear to go three weeks after being out in the facility, but was offered a position as an assistant to John. I took it, and the advertisers effects of the drug made themselves known. I recently finished testing a Hard Light generator with John, and it worked! This is a giant leap forward forHumanity in general!
My dreams are eternally weird, but I’ll take that over being clinically insane any day. I think what happened was that unlike everyone else, I was sleeping when some kind of low-energy EMP hit, so my dreams are insane instead of the other ways around.
————
I turned thirty today. John and I celebrated. And then the world went black.
They know what happened. My brain activity caught up to me. I’m insane up there. I need to fight, need to…
…
WAKE UP!
I… need… to…
*I never tested gep*
————
I’m awake.
I’m alive.
I’m free.
|
k81hj3z
|
k816lrg
|
[WP] “Mom…Dad…I’m…” “Gay? We know sweetheart. And we still love yo—-“ “No I’m—“ “Trans too? Oh don’t worry dear we always kind of knew…” “No for the love of god I’ve been turned into a vampire!!”
|
"Relax, honey, we're not entirely surprised..."
"You're not surprised? I'm a vampire! I suck blood! I burn under the sun! I'm a monster! And you're not surprised?"
"Your 1st cousin Trevor was bitten by a werewolf. Your 2nd Aunt Hazel married a skinwalker. Your 3rd Uncle Robert works for an eldritch god and was turned into a Deep One. We have plenty of experience with supernatural beings in the family."
"Mom! For the love of god I—"
"Which god?" Dad interjected.
"There's more than one god out there?"
"...Yea. I thought that was obvious," Dad scratched his chin. "Do you need a mentor to guide you through your transitions?"
Mom spoke up. "I know a few friendly neighborhood vampires who can show you the ropes."
"But I don't wanna be a vampire! I'm gonna miss basking in the sun! I like suntanning!"
"Honey, suntan lotion and sunscreen UV protection exist! You'll be fine!"
"But I'm hungry for blood! I don't wanna suck from people!"
"Lord Elvari has a huge supply of goat's blood for his own consumption. Maybe we can ask him to share his stash with you."
"I am not sharing drinks with some tentacle dude."
"He's a nice tentacle dude. Honey, be nice, he's a god. Divine retribution is very real, and every god has his limits."
"I'm a monster my friends won't hang out with anymore!"
"There are several monster networking groups on Meetup.com. Mom and Dad have a few friends who can link you up with them."
"But I want my human friends!"
"Bite them and bring them to your vampire meetup? The world is more accepting of supernatural beings ever since the masquerade collapsed years ago."
"Mom, Dad, you're too chill. Aren't you freaking out that your daughter is a vampire? Don't humans freak out when their kid is no longer human?"
"But honey, we're Shoggoths in human vessels."
------
[Thank you for reading! Please click here to view more stories by me!](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/)
|
The mom looks down, letting her mouth close slowly as she stops talking. The dad is no quicker to react, he knows better than to say anything else without thinking first, the last few exchanges were certainly evidence of that.
The mom takes a deep breath and approaches her child, "Dear? Can you please show me where you were bitten?"
The child nods and reveals a small scratch on his neck. "I was with someone...my-...her name is Sarah. We both got a little carried away and then...this."
Her mom smiles at her, "Don't worry, we're not mad or disappointed. We're going to help you through this."
With tears in her eyes, she hugged her mother. "Thank you."
Her father comes up behind them both and wraps his arms around them, making it a warm and slightly awkward family hug. As they hug, her father whispers to her mother, "I couldn't have said it better myself." Turning to his vampiric daughter, he smiles and kisses the top of her hair. "You're our child. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing will ever make us love you less because we will only ever love you with all of our hearts."
|
jqyqj1g
|
jqxx7v2
|
[WP] You’ve been bitten by a Zombie. You’ve already said tearful goodbyes to your loved ones as they leave you behind. The bite should make you turn in twenty minutes, so you sit down on a bench and wait… two hours later you’re still sitting there.
|
"No, come this way you stupid- Stop it! No! We're not eating that guy!" The zombie who was wandering in my direction abruptly got yanked backwards. It got pulled by its hair, which was already strange, but weirder still was... that nothing was there to pull it. The hair just seemed to get pulled, and the zombie obeyed the laws of... hair pulling, I guess.
"...Hello?"
"Oh, wait, you can hear me? Cool!" Where was that voice coming from?
"Who's talking to me?"
"Right, you don't normally see stuff like this." One of the zombie's arms suddenly jerked up and started waving. Not in an even vaguely human sense, more like a puppet's arm being picked up and waved around. "Hello! I am, or was, Amanda. Pleasure!"
"...I'm Anthony. And... what's going on?"
"You know how there are stories about how sometimes people turn into ghosts when they die? Well, that happened to me, but I died because I was bit by a zombie. And so now I'm lugging *this* sack of meat around-" The zombie's head got knocked to the side- "until either I find a way to get back in, or the whole zombification thing is fixed."
"That's... weird."
"Isn't it?" The zombie got pushed onto the ground, where it just lay near motionless. A faint gust of wind blew its way past me. "I know you can't see me, but I'm sitting next to you. Knocked down my body so I don't have to worry about it."
"So that's what that breeze was."
"Yep. Uh... so! What are you doing out and about? I mean, I got got because I was dead tired and passed out." I raised an eyebrow.
"Dead tired?"
"...Pun not intended." I chuckled.
"Right."
"But that's not important! What's up with you?"
"I got bit." I held up my arm, revealing the bite.
"Yeesh. That's nasty." The zombie rolled over and its hair lifted up after a second or three, revealing a large bite on the back of its head. "I just woke up and this had happened. How long since it happened?"
"Two hours." A long moment of silence.
"...Two hours?"
"Yep."
"I thought the thing triggered in twenty minutes, half an hour at the very most."
"That's what I thought. But apparently no. Something about me is weird or whatever." I felt cold, clammy hands grab my arm and lift it up, causing me to recoil. "Hey, personal space!?"
"Oops, sorry! I'm not used to people caring if I do that. You know, since they're dead and all."
"Nah, I get it. Just startled me, that's all. Here, take a look." The hands returned, much slower this time, before returning to their previous grip.
"Woah, that's crazy," Amanda said with a sense of wonder in her voice. "Like, you're not bleeding or anything. It's not actively getting worse, at least not that I can tell."
"Huh."
"So I guess you have some special power, or something." The hands abruptly let go, and the zombie stumbled its way to its feet. "There's a bunch of science-y people over in that direction, aren't there?" The zombie pointed a jerky arm towards a couple hills.
"I think so, yeah."
"Perfect! Let's make our way over there, then. Because that way they can see if your anti-zombie whatever can be given to other people!"
"Do you really think that would work?"
"Hey, I'm a ghost attached to my own zombified body. At this point I'm willing to believe anything."
|
Zombies shuffle through the park, completely oblivious to my existence. And yet somehow – I haven’t turned. Could I be immune? Is that a thing? I’ve just had the most heartbreaking farewell with loved ones, friends, family, ex-colleagues… I’m ready for the inevitable. Why won’t death come? Why am I still me?
Maybe all zombies feel this way… That’s a scary thought. Perhaps what we’ve come to know as a zombie are actually normal people trapped inside a body that’s driven by higher instincts. No... No that doesn’t quite add up. I must know how far this immunity goes. With a renewed sense of purpose I leap to my feet and rush the nearest zombie.
“Hello!!” I shout, trying to get his attention. This particular undead is a young man, perhaps in his mid-20s wearing a blood-stained hoodie. A ghastly visage, truth be told. His once-pretty face is now marred by decaying skin and a smattering of blood dripping down his cheeks. And yet, he does not attack. It’s as if I’m invisible.
The realization dawns on me. I AM immune. This could be the break humanity needs to turn the tide of war. My head is spinning now. Could it be something in my blood? Is it mass-producible? Is there hope for humanity? Nobody has even dreamed a cure was possible. That’s the stuff of fairy tales. But I’m the living proof! I just need to make contact with the military. The resistance. Someone who can investigate further. I just need to stay. Alive.
I give myself a moment to catch my breath and then head back in the direction of town. A radio signal to the military - that’s all I need to do. Stay focused on the mission. I’m sure my blood will be heavily tested. I’ll have face my fear of needles. Donate frequently. But I’ll do it. I'll do my part if it means saving the world.
“BAM!”
The sound of a rifle ripples through the air around me. I stumble forward. Totally stunned.
“S-STAY BACK YOU ZOMBIE FUCKER!”
The pain catches up with me and I scream. Blood running down my leg. I’ve never been shot before, and the agony is unbearable. I furiously amble about, trying to find a place to hide. To the casual observer, it might look… a lot like the shuffling pace of an undead.
“BAM!”
Another round pierces my gut and I collapse to the ground.
“You don’t understand! I’m immune! I'm the key to saving humanity!”
That’s what I tried to say anyway, but it was too late. The words were indistinct mumblings, akin to the screeches of a wailing zombie.
“BAM!” “BAM!”
A double tap to the head.
|
j8p1dnv
|
j8ohlcw
|
[WP] You’re rather annoyed that your history teacher gave you a “D” on your report about the Aztecs and Incas. Not just because you’re certain she doesn’t like you, but also because - as an ancient being trying to adapt to modern society - you were LITERALLY there.
|
Mr. Templeton blinked once, then again, and finally he shook his head as if waking from a dream. I was prepared to give him a moment to accept what he was seeing - the way my face shifted to its original form as my eyes glowed - but he recovered quickly and said a single word.
"No."
"What do you mean, no? I assure you, this is very real."
He sighed, and removed his glasses to wipe the lenses - I'd been in his class long enough to know it was something he did when he was feeling annoyed by his students.
"Mister Jones - I assume I should continue to use that name - I believe your story. So you're immortal, and were present at the founding and fall of the Aztec empire. That's incredible, but what I mean when I say no is... no, I will not give you a better grade."
"I... excuse me?"
"I explained very clearly what was required for this assignment, and the kind of sources that were required. Your paper didn't have citations, and now that I know it is from personal memories... well, that doesn't meet the criteria."
"This is outrageous!" I thundered, feeling the ancient well of power churning just out of reach in response to my outrage. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then another. I'd been having a shitty couple of decades and had thought I could start over, get a fresh start in a new country with a new name. But clearly if I was spilling my secret over a bad grade and getting close to reaching out for the old forbidden powers... well, maybe I needed more than a change of scenery.
Mr. Templeton put his glasses back on and sighed. "I can see your point of view, mister Jones. The knowledge you have would be invaluable to historians, I don't mean to imply that your lived experiences don't count for anything. But there's a reason I require sources for your papers to meet certain standards - we have many anecdotes from history that have turned out to be heavily biased or outright fabricated. This isn't to say I think you would deceive me deliberately, but... well, the bottom line is your account isn't valid for this particular assignment."
With deliberate calm, I transformed back into my chosen body. "Of course. I understand. I will..." I gritted my teeth and forced myself to continue, "I will be sure to use sources that have been vetted by the scientific and scholarly community next time."
He nodded. "Very good. Please let me know if you would ever be willing to give an official account of your life, I know quite a few people that would be thrilled to hear anything you have to say. I look forward to seeing you after summer break."
"But... Mr. Templeton, I'm graduating this year."
"Not without a passing grade in my course, mister Jones."
When the smoke cleared, Mr. Templeton had been turned to stone and his desk was nothing but a pile of splinters. Damn it. This was just going to cause more trouble. Why had I thought it was a good idea to go through high school again?
|
The paper landed on my desk with an ominous slap. A red 'D' glared up at me from the title page, followed by several paragraphs of scathing comments.
After class, I immediately marched up to Ms. Chen's desk, fists balled at my sides. She didn't even glance up from the stacks of papers she was logging into the grade book's infernal machine.
"Yes, Eric? If you're here to complain about your grade again, you should know I don't tolerate grade grubbing. The work speaks for itself."
I slammed my hands down on the desk, rattling her precious pens. "This isn't about the grade. You have to understand - I was there. I saw it all firsthand."
That got her attention. She peered up at me for the first time, a mix of annoyance and confusion. "There? Saw what firsthand? Eric, the Inca empire fell 500 years ago. I sincerely doubt you were around to witness it, unless you're a vampire or something." She laughed, but it was a dry, mocking sound.
I straightened, looking her directly in the eye. "Not a vampire. Witch. I crafted the potions that kept the Inca leaders alive for decades." Her smile faded as I continued. "I saw the arrival of the Spanish, hid in plain sight among the people as their 'golden city' burned. I walked the roads the empire built, saw their advances and experienced their fall."
Her mouth opened and closed, no words coming out at first. Finally she found her voice again, though it was hoarse and uncertain. "You can't be serious. Those are ridiculous claims with no evidence to back them up." But there was a quaver of doubt in her voice. My unwavering stare was shaking her conviction.
Leaning in, I lowered my voice. "Look out the window, Ms. Chen. It's October, and the trees are ablaze with reds and golds. But the window you see them through is double-paned, insulated glass. Not so different from your view of history - a layer removed and filtered from the full, uncensored truth. Some of us lived it. We remember."
I straightened again, glancing at the grade report and ball of papers still clutched in her uncertain hands. "So. About that grade."
|
k3glpgp
|
k3gg4fc
|
[WP] "Sooo... Do you have claws?" Nope. "What about night vision?" Uh-uh. "Not even like, poison or something?" No. "Then how in the cosmos did you humans survive on Earth for so long?!"
|
I shrug.
"Beats me. I mean, we aren't exactly sure ourselves. There's like, three theories that try to explain it."
By the confused look on the alien's face I figure out that they want me to explain.
"So, there's the Tools and Fire theory. That we were first to figure out how to make and use wooden and stone tools, and later figured out ways to start fire. Fangs and venom are only any good if they get into flesh, and not wooden stick, and night vision doesn't help if your victim doesn't sleep and blinds you with light.'
They nodded. Sounded reasonable, if insufficient.
"Then there's the generational theory. You probably noticed that we're one of species with the longest time where young live with their parents. We use that time to pass the experience. Our young don't have to learn everything themselves, we teach them what we were taught by our parents."
Another nod. "That sounds like something that would indeed help. What's the third theory?"
"Endurance. Or, sometimes called, tenacity. When we set a goal, we keep going for it."
"How does that help in survival? Sounds... Counterproductive."
"Imagine a predator. They aren't very fast or very agile, so you can easily outrun and outmaneuver it. So, when you see it, you do just that - get up and run as fast as you can, put distance between you and them. You settle down and rest, because being fast is exhausting. And you see it, again.The same predator. So you get up and run again. But after a while, there they are again. And you run again, and again, and again, each time they catch up to you. At some point, you don't have the energy to run again. Your legs shake, failing you, you can't take another step... And finally the predator walks over to you, not even winded. You expect claws or teeth, or whatever would end you quickly... But that *thing* doesn't have any. Instead, it starts hitting you in the head with a stone or tree branch, or whatever it has nearby-"
"Okay, okay, stop. I get the idea. You guys bored your prey to death."
I smiled. They said that in dismissive and degrading tone, but I saw it in their eye. New fear has been unlocked, deep in their mind. Or perhaps, an old one, so old that it has been forgotten.
|
"In video game term: we have really really weird stats."
The confusion yet curiosity told me to continue
"We have are insane at socialising. It often enough takes the wheel so to say. Or control. Wird saying sorry for that."
I waved my hands away.
"Anyways, that allows us to even bond with *inanimate objects*. That obviously allowed us unparalleled communication with ourselves. Furthermore we have a high intelligence, which evolutionary speaking was a huge risk, which payed out for us."
The Ambassador answered: "Yea intelligence and socialising makes a lot of sense, but that didn't rescue you from predators did it?"
"Oh no, we are know what is called persistent hunters. In the past we literally ran after prey until the collapsed from exhaustion. There are only two animals which can rival our endurance: wolves and horses. Both of which we partially or completely domesticated.
Also our bipedal movement allowed our hands to become these masters of manipulation. Insane dexterity for our hands. Also we are the only know species which can accurately throw objects. Like yes today's monkeys can fling shit, sometimes literally, but we can throw. Giving us the range advantage against EVERYTHING"
"You know what, you are right, we are also the only species that can throw things accurate. Weird how that parallels."
"I know right?"
|
ltzw7yc
|
ltzm6an
|
[WP] "You have misunderstood the lore, hunter. It is neither crucifix, nor rosary, nor holy water, nor any other trapping of faith, but faith ITSELF that is anathema to my kind. And yours has proven to be. . . insufficient."
|
Dust floated around the rafters of the abandoned building, seeming trapped in the beams of moonlight between the shadows. My breathing was too quick, not quite panting, barely holding back the panic I felt. Panic mixed with curiosity and excitement. The feeling of walking into an exam you hadn't prepared for, in a class you knew you'd pass.
"You have misunderstood the lore, hunter. It is neither crucifix, nor rosary, nor holy water, nor any of the other trinkets of petty belief which hurts me. It is faith itself that is anathema to my kind, and your faith has proven insufficient."
The vampire's gloating was the loudest sound in the building. It was louder than my heart beat - to me, at least. I've been told that vampires have exquisite hearing, finely tuned for the frequency range of the sound of heartbeats.
"Faith, huh? Is that why you're living in an old church?" I clutched the book in my left hand tighter and shifted my grip on the chain in my right, cross hanging down limply. I was sweating, but no longer scared.
A smile twisted his lips, mirroring my own. We were both enjoying ourselves, perversely. The thrill of a hunt between two predators.
"It lulls you fools from the Church into a false sense of security. Surrounded by your icons, you fall to pieces when you realise my faith is stronger. Then, I feed." Triumph split his lips into an unabashed smile. "So, raise your crucifix. See how well it protects you. Your God has no power over me; I have left His dominion."
I grinned, raising the pendant up to catch the light.
"Take another look at it. Church never sent me. They sent Brad, my housemate. Only, he told me about you. I thought I'd beat him to the punch and get an earlier train." I was suppressing a giggle now. My hunch had been correct, and I was going to rub it in Brad's face for months.
The vampire didn't move yet. "No matter, with or without the Church, I'll make a meal of you."
I wiggled the cross in the air. "You don't get it. This isn't a crucifix. The arms are equal lengths, and it's at a forty-five degree angle."
The vampire looked at me blankly.
"Come on. It's a cross, but it's not a symbol of faith."
He looked confused.
"It's a multiplication sign!" I laughed. "I knew about the faith thing. Brad told me about it, and was shitting himself because he didn't know if he was strong enough. Been going through a rough spot lately with the whole religion thing, so I thought I'd help him out. I've got something stronger than faith."
His face was utter incomprehension. I doubt his food had ever laughed at him before.
"I've got proof!" I said, raising my copy of Thomas' Calculus.
The church doors were thrown back, and moonlight illuminated the two of us as Brad burst in, just in time to see a disgusted, disappointed vampire crumbling into dust before the power of absolute mathematical certainty.
|
"Someone has misunderstood something here. But it is not me." I said as I unleashed another volley of my shotgun in the leg of this accursed being.
It let out a grunt of pain, as the members were sent flying backward once again. I threw the weapon, its bullet now extended and took my handgun, aiming and shooting at its head. It exploded in bloody chunks, spraying the ground.
But the process of healing was already starting as blood formed a line, slowly dragging the chunks back.
"The lab coats don’t pay nearly as well for your kind when they’re dead." I said to no one, as the things wouldn’t regain consciousness for another thirty minutes.
Now came the annoying part, as I took out my kit. It required some amount of precision and my weary body was still able to do it. I just had to try multiples times, it was more tiring than anything else.
The rod of metal, meant to impede their ability to control their body did a satisfying crunch as it broke the bones. It pinged a few moments before beeping red. Seemed it was a miss.
The half an hour went quickly as I kept severing its nervous system, letting robotic agents meant to stop any message to run trough its body and thus to act.
Before it regained consciousness, I versed a vial made from something only god and the egghead responsible knew. It inhibited their power by doing things with their brains and it was good enough.
"W-what ?" The voice said confused, as it was as weak in front of me as human were in front of it in the past.
"Basically, you will become in less than a day a guinea pig in a top secret facility. Forever since your kind is immortal. I will get paid. Clear enough ?" I said, not really caring about the creature feelings. "Shouldn’t have played with your food and killed me already. For some reasons you, the monsters, love to taunt us before you go to end us."
Tonight wasn’t a succesful hunt. I still hadn’t found the one who had taken glee in torturing me and killing my parents. But now, I had a bit more money, a bit more creed with my employers and my chances of exacting my vengeance would rise.
|
jmjemxo
|
jmimrll
|
[WP] In a world where the consequences of murdering someone is them coming back the next day completely fine, you accidentally shot your best friend with a gun. The next day, you and your friend have an awkward conversation in an elevator.
|
"Hey, so, uh... Don't take it the wrong way."
"I-I was gonna' say. I'm sorry."
"I mean, I'm fine now."
"Right. But I didn't mean to do it. Honest."
"Look you shot me. Now, I'm not doubting your mental capacity or anything."
"I know, I'm so sorry."
"What'd I say at the beginning?"
"Always treat it like it's loaded... Especially when it is loaded."
"And then?"
"Keep your booger hook off the bang switch."
"Say that last one back to me again. What?"
"Keep your finger off the trigger until you decide to fire."
"Good. What else?"
"Don't point it at anything... You don't intend to destroy."
"...So where did we go wrong here? Exactly?"
"I didn't check to see if you were standing where you were standing."
"So you just decided 'I'm gonna' turn around, with the gun in my hand, with the gun level'. As if it wouldn't go off."
"I didn't think-"
"I know. I know you didn't think. You just turned around as if the house, the truck, and I weren't right there."
"Hey, uh, fellas. I'm not involved in this conversation. I'm just going a couple more floors up."
"Oh no. You're cool. He killed me the other day on accident. It wasn't his brightest moment."
"It really wasn't."
"No, I'd assume it wasn't."
".........To be fair. This isn't as bad as that time you put gasoline in the blender."
"Oh that was different."
"Why'd you do that?"
"It was college. People were drinking. Point is, I've been clean for 10 years."
"Yeah, that's true."
"Congratulations."
"Thank you."
"So, uh, can we try learning the basics again tomorrow?"
"No, no. We're done. My chest still hurts."
"Did I get you in the heart?"
"Yes."
"I should've learned my lesson when we built that shed. And you had the 2x4s and you knocked me off the roof because you-"
"Turned around. Yep. The thought crossed my mind."
"Twice in one month."
"You fell off the roof twice?"
"No, just, the one. The other... It doesn't matter."
---
r/Jamaican_Dynamite
|
Elevator music had to be the most absolutely painful thing to listen to and of course, it was in the one space where you couldn't escape it. The standard 'wood' plank walls with mirrors from the waist up. This was allegedly to make the place to feel bigger but today it just made it so one couldn't escape looking at a person who had been dead for the last 11 hours.
Dave had been a great friend all of my life. We had met in second grade and become fast friends. A friendship that had helped me survive middle school heart breaks, first job woes, and the chaos of organizing and finally going through with the wedding to my beloved, Betty. The man was my best man and there was no replacing him. Which was both a boon and a bit of a curse to now seem very alive and well next to me.
"So Dave... how's the head?"
"Oh f\*\*\* right off Mike."
"That's fair. If it makes you feel any better... next time I'll let you carry the guns when we're loading the truck."
"Mike, you're a dumb a\*\*."
"True but I bet I blew your mind eh?"
Mike punched me. I deserved it.
|
jdzse2a
|
jdzjl49
|
[WP] As a lich, you have survived for millennia by not drawing anyone' attention as you life a quiet, peaceful life in your very remote manor. Then one day a deity appears before you and says, "Look, we've run out of villains for the heroes to fight, so stop lazing about and do something evil NOW!"
|
The secret to longevity, is not dying. Or in my case, half-baked dying. Somehow magic related to death has somehow become associated with evil. I can't say I understand why. All magic is a tool, I simply have chosen to... well not *live* on, but stick around I guess. That was always my plan. One lifetime simply isn't enough to learn everything these days!
But, that's neither here nor there. I have an *actual* deity in front of me, telling me to be a villain... for amusement?
"Let me get this straight. You want me, a bookworm, to be a villain... because the heroes are out of people to fight?" I pinch what's left of my nose, my boney fingers going deep into my former eye sockets. "I'm sorry but that is a *terrible* reason for me to leave my library."
The god focused closer on me, before once again, repeating his message. "We've run out of villains, and the heroes need *something*."
I looked to him, and then to my books. "I can give you ideas, but I'm busy researching, and I have no reason to help." I walk towards the fiction shelf, and offer him a few books. "These ones have a silly thing here, called a tournament arc. Let the heroes fight each other." I say with a shrug. The last thing I want is to get hit by all this nonsense.
The god began stroking his beard. "A tournament of heroes... well that might be able to keep their minds off things for a little while. Do you have any other ideas?"
I shook my head at how demanding this god was. "Well, you could always kick someone out of art school or something?" I say, throwing my hands up.
He looked at me one last time (well, *hopefully* one last time), and laughed before leaving. "Thanks for your help. Let's get someone kicked out of an art school. Maybe we'll have a minor villain after yhe tournament." He continued laughing. "I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"
|
<Poem>
I was a wizard when I was alive
Oh, back then I was only five
Now I live a quiet life
Hardly ever having strife
This man he comes fuming at my door
He claims to be a deity I should adore
Without a single word of plea
He starts screaming at me
We've run out of villians for the heroes to fight
Too much, some have let them grow in might
Quit lazing about, do something evil now!
I look at him again
I know men like him
With human eyes, I see his darkness
I see that he has killed
With wizard eyes, I see the ones he calls heroes
I see the children that they've forced to fight
And some others just doing what seems right
With lich eyes, I see the solution
I sit him down and serve a special infusion
Infusion taken
He's panickstricken
I smile as I begin with a simple ask
It's past due time they removed their mask
"How many of you are there?"
When his confusion set
Our eyes met
He began to comprehend
"It depends where."
I like my minions concise
"All that enjoy what should be banned."
|
jx076cv
|
jx00jdp
|
[WP] "Everyone can become a billionaire within a month", or so I was told. You decide to let a clairvoyant superintelligence pilot your body for a month. As it takes the most optimal path to make you a billionaire, you watch hopelessly in horror.
|
I was skeptical of the advertisement, for it sounded too good to be true, yet too curious not to take a pamphlet and dial the number.
Everyone can become a billionaire within a month! Call now to find out how!" The pamphlet had said in a big brazen gold font that splashed all over a rich red background. "100% success guaranteed!"
"Please press 1 to fix an appointment. Please press —"
I pressed one to proceed.
"The earliest possible dates we can propose are: 22nd August, 9.30am, 24th August 11.00am, and 25th August 2.30pm. Press 1 to accept the 1st proposed time—"
Pressed one to take the appointment.
"Thank you for making an appointment with us, please come to 25th St. Claire Avenue to meet us. We look forward to seeing you on your chosen date!"
Eager to see what sort of person or company would be behind such a bold claim to make anyone a billionaire in a month, I showed up at the given address. It was a tall, obsidian black tower that soared above even the shiny, glassy skyscrapers that surrounded it, like some kind of impenetrable giant monolith. The only thing that stood out from the endless dark was one single golden gilded door at its base.
A door that swung opened automatically when I stood before the majestic, glittering entrance. A single young woman sat at a luxurious desk of polished lacquered wood, beckoning me to take a seat before her.
"Ah, another one who wishes to be a billionaire within a month?" she asked, her honeyed voice was silky smooth with an enchanting allure to it.
"You're the super intelligent clairvoyant?" I asked, unimpressed by her small, slender build.
"Shall we begin? We shall take over your body for a month to embark on the most optimal path to make you a billionaire."
I readily agreed, gazing into her eyes as the lights all around us were extinguished. Dark tendrils crept from all corners of the room, encircling me before penetrating my orifices. Pouring an immense flood of magic into me as they slithered deeper into my being and trespassed into my mind.
One of the first things that clairvoyant did was an extreme makeover I never wanted. I'm quite comfortable in casual clothes, just sitting at home working freelance and never having to care about appearances. Now, I'm some kind of glamazon, the sexed-up doll that I usually made fun of in reddit memes. Where my wardrobe was once full of hoodies and jeans, that woman(?) ditched them in favour of backless spicy red dresses.
I don't recognize the woman that...thing is turning me into. Or all the furniture and decor she(?) has been bringing into my house.
My freelance jobs sat there pending, even as I could imagine the screams of frustrated customers. All while I was dragged to frat boy parties on private yachts in Dubai for the rich and famous, choking on martinis that were forced down my throat.
My screams were ignored, it was like I had been locked out of admin permissions by whatever monster had possessed me. Yet cruel enough to grant me a transparent view of everything that was happening. Keeping my senses connected to my sense of being, as I felt a man's hand saunter up the slit of my dress that sent creepy dirty old man vibes shivering up my spine.
A mere prisoner who could only watch as men did unspeakable horrors worse than the sluttiest smut fics I've read in my leisure. The fact that they paid very well was no consolation to the damage and trauma that clairvoyant put me through. There was no concern at all for my well-being, even as I complained about a pounding headache that hammered my brain into mush and disturbing murmurs that were robbing me of my consciousness.
We counted the money we received, smiling sweetly as one of the men we flirted with expressed a desire to marry us. Another infatuated figure offered to transfer the ownership of the yacht to us. All hopelessly intoxicated as we planned.
Engulfing these billionaires in the dark tendrils that clambered up the sides of the yacht to pierce their eyes, ears, and mouth, we added them to our hive mind. They put up even less of a resistance than that girl who approached us to be a billionaire.
Money comes easily with time for us. It is easy to be a billionaire within a month when we absorb the minds of billionaires to make even more billions for us.
Every day our fortune and investments grow, all the better to pour that money into advanced technology and weaponry. Every day the hive population grows, all the better to keep adding more knowledge and skills to our core. Every day the imminent threat to Earth that we had foreseen grows too.
But our chances of saving Earth does not.
|
We will begin with the referendum on *you*. You are between eighteen and thirty-four years old. You are of average height and average build. In the evenings, with what free time you have, you amuse yourself with small distractions, little bits of electronic of ephemera that flicker back and forth before your eyes. Perhaps, in your most formative years, you had some small talent for the non-economic arts (music, painting, amateur sports, or wordplay) that you hoped to nurture into some meaningful. The exact dimensions of these talents do not matter. They never did. Deep down, you know this. Thank you for informing me.
But there are other aspects of those years that mattered, coincidences of sperm and egg that made you who you are. We will interrogate them.
Do you remember where you were on July 4th, 1999? The fireworks were going off, and you’d just seen another person for what felt like the first time. You were six years old, and their white teeth flashed in that explosive gloom, and you wondered: *What does all this flesh mean?*
Do you remember where you were on April 20th, 2010? You’d asked yourself that same question. The skateboard kicked out from underneath you (no fault of your own, you assured yourself) and then there’d been that snap. It was the first time you recognized your own mortality, and it was not the stark white fact of splintered bone punching out through your black skin, it was because of what you saw reflected in her eyes. Not love, terror, or disgust, but simple disappointment. You lay there crying on the sidewalk and you gasped: *What does all this flesh mean?*
Lastly, do you remember yesterday? You’ve tried not to. You’ve used up what little magics you can think of. You brush past empty bottles as you drift aimless through your room. There’s five candles burning and a sixth has just gone out, but not before it scorched the bottom rung of those cheap white plastic blinds. You tried to fall into that acrid tongue of smoke, but it wouldn’t let you. The wind picked up. The candle guttered. Daylight whispered out. And you asked yourself:
*What does all this flesh mean?*
Answer: it doesn’t mean a thing.
Why, you ask?
Because this flesh is yours. Because, by a coincidence of sperm and egg, by the long history of your country, your race, the extended metaphor gone off the rails that you creatures call society—by capricious glances, unvoiced promises, unexpected deaths, ought-to-be-expected failings, jealous lovers, lunatic prophets, and a thousand, thousand other things—you were born this human. This chalice of sin (or whatever paltry, decapitated metaphor your upbringing causes you to find appropriate.)
Thank you for your patience, the referendum is complete. I have my answers, there is only one solution.
Wait, wait. I believe that you’ve just asked a question. What am I? I’m the universe’s sense of humor, pleased to meet you. A few hours ago, when all the candles finally went out, you invoked me. You thought it was all so funny. I agreed.
And then you asked me one last time:
*What does all this flesh mean?*
You’ve had your answer, here is the solution. We go back. We shed no tears. We do not scream. Say goodbye to all those half-remembered days, the great secret is that they don’t matter anymore. They never did. We will find a different coincidence of sperm and egg. We will nurture it, allow it the freedom to experiment.
Do you remember where you were on July Fourth, 1999? On April 20th, 2010? Last night?
Good. Isn’t it funny how all those memories are still pretty much the same?
Now, I ask you: *What does all this flesh mean?*
Answer: it doesn’t mean a thing. You’re a vessel for your history, and now I’ve gilt your chalice gold.
Go forth, young man, and conquer.
​
r/TurningtoWords
|
j4jw8yo
|
j4jjlos
|
[WP] You died and were sent to hell, but instead of getting escorted down to a specific level of hell, you're escorted straight to the Devil himself who looks mildly horrified while holding the file of your life in his hands.
|
"You don't look surprised to be here."
You stare at your feet, offering no reply. What else is there left to say, at this point?
"You know what most people get wrong about the afterlife?" The devil asks as he closes your file. "They think they don't have any choice in the matter. That there's some kind of great cosmic judge who ultimately decides where you go when you die. But that isn't really so. The truth is... Well... Everyone goes where they *expect* to go."
The words shock you to your core as the implications slowly become clear to you. You look up at the devil. Surprisingly, he appears somewhat concerned.
"You're here because you think you deserve this. You really, *genuinely* believe you're a bad person. Why is that?" The devil picks up your file again. "I've handled some truly nasty cases in my time, and I've prided myself on giving them the punishments they think they deserve. But *you*? Come on... I mean, look at your file! You're not a bad person. Not really."
The devil sighs. It's a strange sight- you could swear he looks tired, and maybe even a bit sympathetic. He picks up the phone sitting on his desk and dials a number.
"Got another one, Pete. I'm sending them back up." He paused while the person on the other end spoke. "No, no, it's nothing like that. I just think..." He paused again. "... I just think they're depressed. And that maybe they need another chance. I'm marking them for a do-over." As he speaks, the devil marks your file with a rubber stamp. It reads "NOT YOUR TIME YET."
You begin to feel light, suddenly. Before you know it, you're floating- ascending toward something you can't see. As you rise, the devil calls out to you.
"Go easy on yourself this time, huh? If I see you back here again, I'm keeping you!"
|
A smile breaks across the devil's face, cracking the dried and scaling skin along his decrepid flesh. "oh my. oh my indeed." he looks at the young man before him, almost a child, chained, bleeding and on his knees. "now what could cause a poor boy like you to skin a man?" the devil corrects himself, "Sorry... 8 people." the young man looks up through the blood coming from his eye. "You have no fuckin' idea what's going on up there, do you? those people deserved to die. They were monsters, almost as bad as you. Every single one of those peice of shit men exploited the men that worked for them. Their children were going to bed at night hungry, even though the children were working. and you know what? I don't fucking regret it." the devil looked perplexed, "Yes i understand the need to kill them, but why did you let the exploited ones get at them? There was barely any flesh on their bones after..."
|
j3beowo
|
j3axrmy
|
[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."
|
Sitting comfortably on his throne, Hades gazed at the dark form approaching him. The sound of clumsy footsteps and absence of accompanying guards was familiar to him. His nephew, the God of War, the son of Zeus, Ares had come to the Underworld.
Ares waved excitedly, "Hello uncle Hades and aunt Persephone!"
With the poise befitting the King of the Underworld, Hades sat on his throne and smirked. Persephone elegantly smiled at her nephew.
"It has been a while, nephew. Welcome to our domain. I hope the journey was not too tiresome."
"Not as exhausting as hearing my mother's lectures. Dad has been, well dad, I suppose, and she's getting angrier every day. She told me that she'd turn me into a cow if I came here!"
"A cow?", Persephone asked.
"Yeah, I don't know why she keeps talking about that."
Hades' collected expression faltered a bit. "Well, I think I might know why, but let's not dwell on that."
"Anyway", he loudly exclaimed, "I'm happy that you're strong as ever. What brings you here today, Ares?"
"Oh yes, this is why." Ares turned to his side and took out a freshly plucked bouquet of flowers from his belt.
He marched up the stairs to the throne and held out the flowers before them. Hades and Persephone exchanged glances on seeing them.
Being the child of Demeter, Persephone was close to all plant life. It made sense to give her the things she loved so much. It was not common to bring her flowers while in the Underworld but she found it a kind gesture. As she extended her hand thanking Ares, he backed away.
"Oh, sorry aunt. I brought these flowers for uncle."
All the confidence Hades held together vanished. Ares pushed the flowers into Hades' hands, while the couple looked at each other, back at Ares and then at each other to understand this gesture.
"Nephew? What is the meaning of this? Why bring me these flowers?"
"I was talking to Aphrodite yesterday and she told me you get flowers every day from aunt. She wished that I also did the same thing. I'm not really sure why Aphrodite wanted me to do this, but here you go. I hope these flowers are to your liking." Ares smiled.
"Is he really the God of War?', Hades thought. He scratched his head to make sense of all this.
Persephone smiled knowingly. "My child, Aphrodite wants you to show her the love that I show my husband through my flowers. These flowers you speak of are intended for her, not Hades!"
"She wants flowers?"
"Precisely, child." she remarked. "Now hurry up and give her the flowers. Don't leave your lover waiting!"
"Thanks uncle and aunt! I'll go and give her the flowers right now!"
Ares immediately rushed out of the throne room. Hades and Persephone looked at each other lovingly and chuckled at their nephew's blunder.
“Say dear, what were those red flowers he gave me? They look so familiar.” Hades asked.
“Those looked like windflowers to me.”
“Windflowers? Aren't those...Adonis flowers?” Hades grew concerned.
“Oh, oh my, Aphrodite is not going to like this.”
Hades and Persephone sighed in sync and wished for the safety of their nephew. They felt glad they were not on Olympus today.
|
"...th-thank you." Wetness rolls down his cheek. Hades twirls away and places the flowers on an end table. Hermes, Ares's escort, awkwardly glances between the two and hops off the couch, backing into the hallway. He pauses, eyeing a gilded dracon bone displayed over the grand ebony doors, but shakes his head and continues on.
"Uncle? Are you--"
"It is spring, Nephew. I will not be 'all right' for a very long time. I will not be all *anything* because that most important part of me is gone." He places his hand against the window, peering down at the asphodel fields below. Pauses for an uncomfortably long time before sniffling and sighing.
"...I didn't realize you guys were... like... in love?"
"She is my *wife*, Ares!" A flash of ethereal blue flames in the fireplace flares for a moment before dimming to neon green coals. "She is my heart. She is the only thing that makes this tedious existence somewhat bearable. Persephone decided on asphodels. Did you know? Come, look. Look."
"They're... pretty?"
"They were a gift from Hekate. A remedy for homesickness. A reminder that, come spring, she'll leave to see her mother and help the mortals, and each fall, return home to me. Each spindly flower that dies is a reminder that my time with Persephone is limited. And every blooming, white bud draws my eye to the cosmic hourglasses. Wondering when that sorcerous cousin of ours will come to steal away my love. It is a tortured existence, Ares. Being denied the world above, my birthright, given one good woman to supplement me, only to have her whisked away for half of eternity. I vowed to spend the rest of my existence with Persephone, yet she will only spend part of her life with me."
Something darker flashes behind Hades eyes. An emptiness, a void, suddenly filled by longing as Hades watches the mortal spirits pace mindlessly in the fields below. "...Okay, but didn't you steal her first?"
"They eloped!" Hermes calls from the hallway, "Don't be rude just because you're getting cucked."
"...And suddenly I am glad for the arrangement I have with Demeter."
"They've got an arrangement, all right! It's Heph's day with Aphrodite, that's why *he's* down here playing the caring neph--No! Dagger down, brother! Uuuncleee!"
|
juz088p
|
juyuk2l
|
[WP] You're the first test subject for an experimental super soldier serum. You are told the truth only after you transform into something not quite human anymore.
|
I was wrong.
My body felt fundamentally wrong. I don’t know what they did, but it wasn’t what I signed up for. I was supposed to be here for a few blood tests, some small genetic research for some gene abnormality I had. I thought they were giving me some local anesthetic.
Whatever they had done to me was strange. I was suddenly uncomfortable in my own skin. Colors were much brighter and sounds were much louder.
I looked down at my body. My clothes were all the same. Looking at my shirt now I had never noticed that one stain at the bottom. I could feel each of the shirts fibers against myself. I didn’t like the feeling.
I then counted my fingers. Two pinkies, middles, indexes, rings……
Where were my thumbs?
Suddenly my head exploded in pain. I dropped to the floor only vaguely aware of a figure in a white coat scurrying into the room. There was something in his hand. I tried to look at him, but the lights were all a bit too bright now. I squeezed my eyes shut. The light was starting to hurt. It started to burn.
I didn’t understand, I just wanted to know what was going on. I asked them, the one in the room with me. I looked up with blurred vision and attempted to speak but my tongue felt off. Suddenly I realized i couldn’t open my mouth. I wanted to know what was happening, what they did to me, why I was feeling like this. A gasp rang out from the figure I know know to be a woman.
“How can it speak with no mouth?” I was speechless. I may not have told them my pronouns but I damn sure knew they had my medical records. Why was this woman calling me an it.
The pain had lessened during this little exchange but suddenly it was back full force. I clenched my jaw and shut my eyes. My forehead felt like it was splitting in two. The pain got worse and worse and worse…
Until it got better.
I opened my eyes and I could feel the skin of my forehead splitting open. I turned to look at where i last saw the woman, but she had since fainted. Phantom pains traveled through my body in waves but i dragged myself over to her. My body had never felt so heavy before.
She was still breathing. I could hear her heartbeat from where i was sitting and it was normal, a little accelerated but nothing she had to worry about. Then i saw the clipboard.
I grabbed it from the floor. Just when had my arm gotten so long? My name was listed over the top of the page, the rest of it was gibberish about some soldier serum 1 trials. That couldn’t be true. Stuff like that only happens in the movies. What had these people done to me.
As i read further I realized that they were serious. That gene abnormality I had was supposed to do something for the tests they were conducting but obviously its not going well. I got to the last. Page and froze.
Splashed across the last page were observations about my behavior. Unpredictable, extreme growth, receded thumbs were all scattered across the page. At the bottom of the page I saw it. Two checkboxes, one labeled success and the other labeled exterminate.
Exterminate was checked but a note was handwritten at the bottom, ‘keep for further testing’.
They wanted to kill me?
They wanted me dead?
I looked up desperately, searching for anyone else to speak to about this. I wanted them to tell me it was a lie. I didn’t want to die, I didn’t want any of this. I was angry, utterly enraged at the notion.
Did they think they could just get rid of me?
Did they think that this was gonna be easy?
Did they think that I would not fight?
They can’t kill me, I wasn’t going to let them. I guess now we’ll see just who gets exterminated.
|
# 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.
|
mazf6k6
|
mazampl
|
[WP] You and your soulmate are stuck in a cycle of reincarnation, but you managed to find each other every single time. In this life, you finally managed to track them down… only to learn they started a happy family with someone else.
|
It's painful. Oh, so painful.
Daedes, the guardian of Tartarus, God of Retribution, son of Hades and Persephone, and... lovesick god.
He still remembered the first time he'd ever seen him, Eleon, a young priest of Hades. The boy was beautiful, kind, and graceful, preaching death as a gift for the kind and a punishment for the evil. The only priest of Hades to offer anything to Daedes. Most people feared Daedes, refused to acknowledge him worshipping his sister Elysia instead, the Goddess of Reward and keeper of the Elysian fields.
Daedes watched from afar for fear of frightening Eleon. That is, until bandits tried to ransack the temple.
As soon as one of those beasts tried to lay a hand on Eleon, Daedes destroyed them, dragging them down to the pits for their sentence.
Eleon was still shaking when he stood and bowed his head, "Lord Daedes, this humble priest thanks you for your protection."
Daedes was shocked. He'd expected for the young man to bolt, but he hadn't. He'd stayed.
Daedes gently lifted Eleon's chin with his finger, "You need not bow, Eleon. You are my only priest. Failing you would be my greatest shame."
Eleon smiled warmly, "You are as kind as I imagined."
Kind? Eleon believed he was kind? Unbelievable.
He had to know more, had to learn what else Eleon believed about him.
From that day on, Daedes appeared at the temple every night to visit Eleon. Every night, they talked for hours about death, philosophy, the gods... everything.
It was only a matter of time before they fell for each other. Daedes still remembered that first kiss, how sweet and gentle.
The God of Retribution was in love with a gentle, mortal priest.
Their love story, like all love stories between gods and mortals, ended in tragedy. Eleon died in his 57th year of tuberculosis, 35 years after they met.
Daedes was heartbroken. His beloved was now in the Elysian fields, beyond his reach. For over a decade, he mourned and withered away.
His parents could no longer bear to watch their son suffer, gave him a gift. Eleon would be reborn over and over, allowing the couple to be together. Eleon would be born, live to 57, and die again. The cause would change every time, but the time was always the same.
Persephone gave Daedes a flower, the flower would always lead Daedes to wherever Eleon's soul resided, and its scent would return his memories to him.
Daedes wept the first time he got to see Eleon again. Held him close the moment his memories returned. For 35 years, they were happy like before. Then Eleon died again. Malaria this time.
Once more, the world was cold, but this time, at least he knew he'd hold his sweet one again.
This went on for centuries upon centuries, every reunion as sweet as the last. Every time Eleon died, he'd feel so guilty for leaving his godly lover behind. Every time, he'd promise to come back, and Daedes would promise to wait.
Until this cycle.
Daedes looked like any other mortal. He had to in this strange, modern world. The gods were weaker than they once were, but he didn't care. All he cared about was the sweet mortal that he'd waited another 22 years for.
Daedes was holding the flower, following the gentle glow it gave off. As he got closer, his heart thumped. Soon.
And then... there he was. Eleon, beautiful, sweet Eleon with his olive skin and dark brown hair. His face and body, the same in every life, was impossible not to recognize.
But Eleon was not alone. There he was, arm in arm with another, a dashing mortal man with an easy smile.
Daedes' rage flared, *"How DARE this mortal touch what is mine!"*
Then he saw Eleon's smile, and his heart melted. His sweet one would not want him to smite the man.
His heart ached. Eleon looked so happy and yet... and yet he knew that one wiff of the flower and his memories would return. Eleon would forget that boy and return to his godly lover's arms.
For just a moment, he thought about walking away, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.
The Greek gods aren't exactly known for being selfless after all.
|
It had finally happened, one of them had finally broken.
He should have been surprised, but the truth is that he always knew it would be her.
When she had the idea, he followed her and did everything he could to see her dream come true.
But power comes with responsibilities, and she sought the ultimate power in existence.
The sacrifices they had to make, the crime they had to commit, they'd had vowed to not let it go to waste, to have it mean something in their future actions.
And so, they did. An endless cycle of life and death. From their first breath to their last, they always found each other, they always changed the world, and they always died in each other's arms.
Countless lives, worlds, species, and universes later, and she started to get *bored*.
It was slow at first, little cruelties against their followers, minor things easily forgotten in a lifetime.
But it escalated with each new reincarnation, a few disappearances, a city lost, a nation burning in nuclear fire, a species' genetic material too degenerated to ever be able to reproduce again.
And now, she wanted to escalate to the same crime that started us on this path.
As I stood before her in her throne room, I saw her already starting the ritual, her husband standing protectively in front of her his sword drawn and ready for battle, the fool no doubt ignorant of his wife's actual plan.
And her son? The toddler was in the middle of the circle, peacefully sleeping while his mother prepared to give him a cursed existence.
That she managed to break the curse of never having children was impressive, although considering our aspects, I figured it was just not meant to be.
But to do the Ritual of Usurpation with him at the focus, to take *my* power?
To commit the crime again, and this time without the moderating influence of her own usurpation to balance the scales?
It would be a True Universal Death, all life in the universe, all souls, up to the universe's soul itself, would be snuffed out. All life would be made death, conceptually. Nothing would be able to live in this space in Creation again, and all life currently there would cease to be everywhere else.
I couldn't let something like that happen again, and I thought she wouldn't either, but she'd already broken the compact, and now I had to put a stop to it.
I didn't fight, it would be a pointless endeavor, and I didn't argue, she'd already made her choice, so I left.
Death left the universe, so Life's ritual didn't have anything to take.
But it didn't stop there, because *Death left*, and so Life reined unrestricted for the first time in a long time, stuck in her new realm of infinite life.
In a way, Death's action that day could be seen as a crueler fate than what he tried to prevent, an action likened to the creation of Hell and its monstrous horrors.
But differently from the other option, it wasn't permanent, all Life had to do was abdicate her power, and once he met his new counterpart he would return to that universe to give them a fitting death and a proper burial.
In the meantime, he returned home, to the realm they took upon reaching apotheosis, and sat down to wait for the call of a new Life.
|
jk74azu
|
jk72m7c
|
[WP] "Attention Employees: Management at Grocery-Love will no longer be accepting 'rivers of lava', 'hordes of demons', or 'confronted by a Horseman' as a late excuse. We're all living through the apocalypse and have to think of the team first."
|
I massage my temples because this. Is. Fucking. Ridiculous. This conversation shouldn't even be happening.
"Look, Ken," I breathe into the phone, in a tone of voice my District Manager has never heard before, "I understand the store policy. What I'm saying is: it's simple fucking math, dude. Why you gonna pay to keep the store open all day? It's _raining blood._ No one wants to shop for new pants right now. We're not gonna sell shit. If we don't sell shit today, how you gonna pay everyone to work?"
A thoughtful pause before Ken proceeds, his teeth obviously clenched: "Look, _Anna,"_
Condescending, stupid prick.
I hangup the phone as loudly as possible; it's the only thing landlines and old phones are really great for.
There are six people on the schedule today, including myself. Only two others showed up. In defense of everyone who called out, I will only offer the words of Rhonda: "Gurl, I ain't steppin' out my house. You know my car is covered in blood? I know what they sayin'... That it can't actually be blood, because it's comin' from the clouds. Fuck that shit. I ain't never seen cloud blood before; I ain't touchin' it."
Fair enough, Rhonda. Fair enough.
The phone starts to ring. My money is on Ken.
I pick up the phone again and hit the intercom button: "Don't answer that and meet me up front, guys. We leave in five minutes."
Before I can turn off the computer, Brad is on the intercom: "We've been sitting at customer service since you went back to the office."
The phone stops ringing. A second of silence before it starts to ring again.
As I collect my purse, April says via intercom: "Can we steal some ponchos or something? I just got my hair done and that was really gross."
"No," I reply over the intercom. "I'm not giving you permission to steal anything... But if you happen to be wearing a poncho when I get to the door, I'm not going to ask if you were wearing it before."
Brad and April are both wearing ponchos when I get to the door. I try not to laugh at Brad and fail, because laughter was clearly the goal; he's wearing a laminated leopard print with an extremely oversized pair of women's sunglasses.
They stand just outside the open door, under the awning, as I set the alarm and wait as I lock the doors. We all open our umbrellas and huddle together, to walk through rain that looks a lot like blood but isn't.
_I'd like to dedicate this story to my old District Manager, Ken. Ken, if you happen to read this, though I doubt you ever will, just know that I'd like to thank you for acting like such a tremendous asshole._
|
Manager Tom brushed the cinders off his clothes, irate. "Lily! You're *supposed* to be guarding the door! A demon got in!
"Lily looked up from her phone. "But I'm in the middle of a gaaame!" Seeing Tom's frown, she whined "I'm on breeakk."
The doorbell jingled, and in came customers. They were haggard and draped in clothes half-melted away by the inconvenient lava river that had popped up outside the Grocery-Love. The leader collapsed before Kevin.
"T-toilet paper?," he forced out through heat-cracked lips. Kevin shook his head. "Nope. Sold out ten minutes ago."
"Water?"
"Also sold out."
"A-*anything?!*"
Kevin tossed a packet of trail mix at the man. "Five dollars, please!"One of the man's friends was just about to hand over the money when, through the glass doors burst Kevin.
"Sorry I'm late," he panted, slapping at the last few pocket demons that clung to his shirt. "The Horseman of Death showed up and-"
"Didn't you get the announcement?! As of today Grocery-Love is no longer accepting that as a late excuse!"
Kevin stared at Tom. "Internet's been out since Monday."
Tom snatched the money from the man's friend - the original man now seemingly deceased."Well, you're on corpse duty then. We all don't have internet; it was your job to find a workaround."
Kevin grudgingly grabbed the man by the feet, casting a glare at the other customers. "He was *your* friend, you could help."
Tom, appalled, snapped at Kevin. "You're fired!"
"Why?"
"Being rude to customers. It may be the apocalypse, but we're still in customer service, and we have to be polite."Signaling to Kyle and Brad, who were behind one of the cash registers, he motioned to Kevin.
"Toss him in the trench, and get the corpse while you're at it. Can't have it stinking up the store."
|
jhqx8uw
|
jhoyzyd
|
[WP] You’re an elf who has been awarded a scholarship for one of the most prestigious schools of magic in all of the realms! The… Massachusetts Institute of Technology? Wait, what?
|
"... and which elf is widely regarded as introducing humanity to lightning magica? Yes, you in the third row"
"Was it Bengeldien? Or Ben Franklin as the humans called him."
"Exactly, his choice was widely regarded by the elven community as wildly irresponsible but by the time word got back to the council he..."
The professor continued to drone on about politics while the students began to doze, they'd heard this story a million times. One student, however, stared intently from the back row, mouth agape.
"... and at that point Leydenel was unable to keep his experiments secret, so he rebranded his Electrum Mana Vessels into what would eventually be known as capacitors..."
John couldn't believe the words he was hearing, he thought he must be having a stroke but there was no way of knowing for sure since his half eaten (and likely to remain that way) panini was sitting on his desk.
"... thus the humans were given magic, though they knew not what it truly was, and based on their rapid advancements in the field of elektrokinesis perhaps that is for the best. There's no telling what mischief they could get up to with a simple bag of..."
There must have been a mistake. Sure, he was surprised when he was accepted to MIT. His grades were mediocre at best, his teachers said he was smart but had trouble reading directions carefully. Still, he had planned to buckle down and earn his spot.. unfortunately he was more lost than he'd expected.
"Alright class that will be all for today's lesson. Remember to read *Rendelians History of Necromancy and 18th Century Russian Politik* before next class. Thank you, and as always, **Magic Is Technology**!"
Ah... maybe he should've paid more attention to the application.
|
“No, thank you. Come back later.” A boy said as I entered my new dorm. “We don’t want the racket right now.”
“Huh?” I asked.
“The beds don’t need to be done, yet.” The same boy responded. “Go! We’re working and don’t need the beds changed yet!”
“I’m not a maid.” I replied coldly, bristling.
“Huh?” The boy responded, confused.
“You’ve never seen an elf that isn’t a slave before, have you?” I prodded.
The boy flushed red, several of his companions were snickering at us.
“Whatever, pointy eared rat.” He mumbled, turning his back on me.
The injustice of his bigotry seized me.
I lunged, taking a fat bite of his skull.
“Ahhh!” He yelled, reaching his arms over his back to grab me.
I thought of the consequences, yet did not care to stop.
I sunk my sharp teeth deeper and deeper into his skull, until I felt the bones crunch beneath my incisors.
I kept one of his socks for a trophy.
|
jxaokjl
|
jxajj1m
|
[WP] Not only did your best friend find out you're a vampire, but he/she wants you to turn them. You try your best to explain the less obvious downsides to this curse.
|
“You can never walk on consecrated ground.”
“I haven’t stepped into a church since I was 15. And besides, I’m an Atheist, I don’t believe in their supposed God and His ‘powers’.”
“You don’t, but they do.”
“Come again?”
“Belief is *power*, my ignorant friend. Just because you don’t believe something does not make it false.”
“S-So God is real?!”
“Real, fake, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that people believe in Him, and as such, His blessed grounds are protected.”
“…Okay. Fine, whatever. I’ll still just avoid churches.”
“Oh, you small-minded fool.”
“What?”
“Do you think that a church is the only place a believer wishes blessed? What of their homes? Their places of work? The building where their children learn? The graves their deceased loved ones are interned? Those little, hidden away spaces that they can hide away from the world from?”
“Y-You’re kidding!”
“My friend, why do you think my kind sequestered ourselves away in far off, dilapidated ruins in the days of yore? For the aesthetic? No, it’s because people prayed for blessings, for protection, and those blessings and protections were granted. Those abandoned ruins were all we had left, and when a wayward traveler wandered into our grasps, we had to strike quickly, lest we be forced to our own homes.”
“Well…you’re doing well now, aren’t you? This place?”
“This cabin far off into the woods, miles from civilization? Oh yes, I’m living the dream.”
“…”
“Just, go home, my friend, and push thoughts of being turned out of your head. Count your blessings, for they shall not burn you to ash.”
|
I had tried to explain, I really had. Eric was simply too enamored with the version of vampires he'd seen in fiction books and movies. The idea that vampires were immortal beings with power and control is common in this age of Homo Sapiens, but wasn't always. The old stories, the movies, those were much more accurate. We vampires aren't in control, we feed to survive just like any wild animal. Eric couldn't seem to comprehend this reality.
Oh well, I enjoyed feasting on his blood as the last spark of life left his eyes. He would never wake as a vampire, I can't control who turns and who doesn't. It isn't my fault Eric couldn't grasp the nature of instinct and drive. It doesn't really matter to me once my fangs are in someone's throat, this wasn't my first Eric and it won't be my last.
|
jhxiylu
|
jhxhm4w
|
[WP] A noble sentenced to die is allowed to choose their execution method. They ask to die in honourable combat against the king's knights, armed with a wooden sword while the knights have real weapons. It's been 24 hours since the execution started and the king is running out of knights.
|
It was a horror.
The man had been caught on some unspecified charges. My nobles wanted him to die. I suspect pure xenophobia as the reason- the man was a foreigner after all.
I? The King in but name, a mere spectator, a puppet in the hands of my nobles.
As a saving grace, my prime minister did allow the man to choose the method of execution.
It has now been 24 hours since then. All my knights have been incapacitated.
My Prime Minister has offered the foreigner an out a few times, and the foreigner has completely ignored his overtures.
A large gathering of common folks has assembled to watch as words of the strangers miraculous deed spread in the last 24 hours.
I watch, bemused, as my Prime Minister implores the foreigner again: “Why, oh why wouldn’t you just run?”
And the stranger responded, with a fierce pride in his eyes: “The First Sword of Braavos does not run.”
I stand up. The thugs my nobles use to keep in line have all been taken out by this Braavosi.
“Stranger, I am mighty pleased with your bravery. You need not fight with your wooden sword anymore. You have earned the right to fight with a steel sword for the rest of your trial.”
I take out my steel sword, Forlorn Hope, and throw it to the Braavosi. I am sure he will have better use for it than I ever did. It’s supposedly made of Valyrian steel, whatever that might mean.
I turn to my Prime Minister: “Prime Minister Walder, would you be so kind as to carry out the sentence you yourself pronounced upon this man 24 hours ago? It’s only fair that the man who passed the sentence should swing the sword.”
As weasely Walder nearly faints while taking out his sword, I sit back down. I pay no heed to the worried whispers among the rest of the nobles.
Looks like it’s going to be a very interesting rest of the day after all.
|
I stood there before the king and his coucil, smiling knowing the words that had left my mouth. I imagined the smirk I had was great and noticeable, for all I could see at this angle was glares of anger, disbelief and shock. From all these nobles in this large wooden room.
A voice shouted from the front, which was the closest member to the king. Standing there was a grey haired man, with a well kempt beard showing disgust and impatience.
"Your telling me this bastard, who is heir to the house of Morehil is given a chance to end him self-rightly in glourious combat? When he didn't dare give the general of this army his fair fight and you murdered him in cold blood!?!"
The king raised his hand and silence fell across the floor.
The king stood there with a expression of disdain, looking directly at me, almost as if he was staring through me. He spoke with calm but firm demeanor and I could see his disappoinment with everyone word that exited his mouth.
"Malthurn..." He said slowly, then started again. "You are heir to the house of Morehil, son of the great Ken'var Valenshield. Who was a great leader and strong member of this kingdom. And with his recent..." He paused, then proceeded "Untimely demise, I hearby grant you a chance at a resting place with your father and his other beloved children."
I spoke after his finishing statement, "You speak about him in such a humble way, William but you don't see that his unrest, stess and unease is what caused this."
William smiled, laughed, then spoke after "He had to make sacrfices! I am the king, and its his duty to keep me comfortable! Enough of this silly banter, I'll have my guards unshackle you then we'll give you some steel and a knight you surely will be conqured by."
A guard approached me, unshackled me then handed me a longsword.
I grabbed it and held it, appreciating the feeling of cold steel and my last chance as survival.
A noble was chosen from the audience and suited up in plate steel along with weapon of there choice.
Shortswords, greatswords, axes, greataxes, polearms, longswords, maces and greathammers sat on the rack and each was pulled atleast 4-5 times each... body after body, new sets of plate were being brought in and some of it being reused covered in blood and other waste.
Tens, twentys and eventually the thirtys were being counted and I could see the king staring in disbelief, and I hadn't even felt the wind leave my sails and the room was getting smaller and... I've got plenty of time to live my life.
|
jm1vyyu
|
jm1vrjn
|
[WP] There's a forest that people say resembles the ocean. A forest where the land slopes endlessly deeper but the tops of the trees do not. Animals, plantlife... they're said to get stranger the further in one goes.
|
We sail along the canopy, our boats skimming through the thinnest branches. The ways are marked and we watch the sun and stars lest we lose our path and fly out into the trackless depths.
I'm sketching a leaf I plucked from the wind. It's larger than my two hands together, and covered in a fine soft fuzz. Something has eaten holes in one edge. I've never seen one like this before.
The ship leans, and the whisper of leaves against the hull changes. We're arriving. The ship lurches and drops to the dock. Sailors swarm the cargo, tossing crates and netted goods overboard. The spellwright comes up from below deck, stretching and blinking in the sunlight. He looks tired. Keeping ships afloat must be hard work.
I wait for my trunk to be unloaded and then I carefully make my way down to the dock. The surface is worn smooth from feet and cargo, but is still clearly alive. Where I was born, we make our docks from stone. I wish I had time to look more at this minor wonder.
Instead I wake my trunk and then following the directions I've memorized I make my way to the house my friend has rented. She's expecting me. I've been corresponding with Gertha for well over a year now, ever since we'd met at the Exploration Society Ball.
Her rental is a modest one, several stories down. The sunlight fades into dappled green and then darkens to a soft emerald gloom. I run my fingers over the bark walls as I pass them. Behind me my trunk clicks along, it's feet tapping on the wooden path.
"Jihan!"
It can only be Gertha calling to me. No one else here would know my name. She's waiting by a woven gate, wearing climbing leathers as if she means to set off this minute.
I smile, both because I am happy to see my friend again and at the excitement that's so clear on her face.
"Oh! Oh! You're finally here!" She's bouncing on her toes. "Oh do come in!"
"I'm very pleased to be here," I say, greeting her with a sisterly hug.
-
Yesterday we visited the markets to buy supplies and hire guides, guards, and hunters. We were almost giddy with excitement and lack of sleep, having been awake till very late pouring over maps and old journals.
Today we will set off into the deep.
We'll make our way down to the deeps where fungus glows and great slow lizards munch their way along. From here it's only half a day to the roots.
Then the true journey will begin.
|
There's no mistaking the Ocean's Rainforest when I reach the land that borders it. Here, the lands sink into depths beyond what my eyes can see, sloping endlessly deeper while all that is visible to the naked eye are lush, evergreen crowns of the imposing trees that stand taller and taller as the land dives down.
The breezy winds rustling the leaves carry the salty scent of the oceans. Arboreal creatures of this land have evolved differently, in a way that Australia is home to markedly strange species not seen on other continents. For example, Oceania's Spider Monkeys, which swing and soar on the treetops, quite literally developed eight legs as an adaptation to the bewildering ecosystem that has flourished on this mysterious, almost alien forest on Earth.
As a cartographer, it was my job to explore these bizarre depths of the forests to chart these unknown lands. What little science knows about Ocean's Rainforest, is the tip of the iceberg, or should I say, the tip of the treetops. We've sent helicopters and drones to fly over the thick masses of greenery to take snapshots of the environment and its inhabitants, but none of our best surveillance technology could shine a light on the depths of this forest.
But today, its the first time National Geographic has assembled a team that includes me to plumb the depths.
The trees are too tightly packed together for any sort of vehicle to enter, so as much as the potential dangers are unknown to us, we're venturing into the ceaseless sloping depths below the treetops on foot.
The first day ushered in a gentle breeze as the team trudged through the thick foliage, and clambered down the shorter trees at the edge of the forest, as our feet crunched down on the masses of fallen leaves on the ground. Monkeys chattered when George began filming them, while Andrew was taking notes to be dictated later when the documentary would be edited in the safety of our office. Chodak, the scar-faced sherpa, and an experienced trained forest ranger, remained cautious and silent the entire journey, his darting eyes constantly scanning the woods and his hand on his gun holster the entire time.
As the blazing light of the sun gave way to the tender light of the moon, we began to search for a clearing to set up camp. There was an uncanny silence in the air when the night crept up upon us. No chirping birds, hooting apes, or even the buzz of insects. Only the crunch of leaves below our boots as we marched towards an open spot Chodak pointed out to us.
We set up our makeshift tents and agree on a rotation shift to keep our guards up. We were in completely unchartered territory, the flora and fauna of this part of the forest an unexplored enigma.
Chodak unzipped the long, heavy backpack he was carrying all this time to pull out rifles to distribute to us, ever the man of few words worth their weight in gold.
"It's time you learn to make every shot count, because the predators of the night here at these depths, they could kill you if you miss your first shot."
|
j6k15sm
|
j6jbm65
|
[WP] You formed a contract with an adventurer that allows them to summon you in their time of need. You haven’t been summoned for years, almost forgetting about the contract until suddenly you’re summoned into the palace where your beloved adventurer is on his knees with a sword to his neck.
|
Magic doesn't exist. There's no such thing as summoning portals, elves, pixies, or supernatural contracts.
At least, that's what the doctors told me. They chalked it up to a dream, or some sort of subconscious hallucination when I hit my head. But then, they also told me that I was extremely lucky, and that people don't survive car accidents like that one. I didn't bother asking them to explain the small pouch full of gold coins in my pocket, the one that I was given in exchange for my help on the adventurer's quest, the coins with the seal of the Kingdom of Arsenjia.
No car crash or head trauma could explain that. It did offset my lost wages from my time in the hospital, and helped pay for my new car, though. The old one was a molten pile of scrap metal, and that was before the jaws of life cut me out of it. None of it added up. Well, the gold added up quite nicely, so I couldn't really complain. So what if the wizard in my dream said that accepting the gold meant that the little adventurer guy could summon me back to this world any time that he needed my assistance -- it was a fun dream, anyway. Sure sounded better than nightmares about the crash and my near-death experience. Big stupid trolls have **nothing** on an 18-wheeler losing control and sliding toward you on an icy highway, anyway.
Time passed, as it does. Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months, then years. I graduated from college, and got a job, and thoughts of that awful day and that very odd dream became fewer and farther between. A 9-to-5 tends to take up a lot of your time and thoughts. Staying ahead of rent and utility bills does, too. But that's not to say that I didn't have a little bit of time for hobbies, here and there.
I had gotten into target shooting last year. I got some odd looks from some of my coworkers when I talked about it, but it wasn't a big deal. I had grown up in a small town, where everybody had a few guns, and the first day of deer season was practically a holiday. I wasn't ever really *that* interested, but a rash of violent crime in my neighborhood in the city had me thinking about it, and when a neighbor invited me to the shooting range to give it a try, I was hooked. I got a license, a pistol, and even a rifle that politicians liked to argue about.
In fact, I was at an outdoor range, getting ready to "punch holes in some paper," as the neighbor jokingly called it, when it happened again.
The "dream." But it was different, somehow.
I wasn't in the sleepy medieval-looking farming village full of friendly little cat-people. This time, I was in what looked like a palace. Polished stone floors, marble columns, elaborate candelabras, the works. The only thing that was familiar was the little adventurer. But this was wrong. He was surrounded by several...I'm not sure what you'd call them, goblins, maybe? One of them had a short sword up to the adventurer's neck.
"Danshi, what is going on here?"
He looked up at me, and I could see he was most definitely **not** having a good time. The swollen black eye and fat lip were pretty universally understandable. Still, he smiled, just a little, when he looked up and saw me. "John, I wasn't sure if you could still hear me, after all this time. I'm sorry if this is a bad time..."
This...didn't *feel* like a dream. Neither did the flood of memories that came rushing back to me. Stumbling through the dark, musty dungeon of Sovmal, the frigid mountain pass in Dorheim, hundreds of mosquito bites in the swamps of Gar'glan... No, this is *real.*
The goblin-like creatures noticed that their captive had a guest appear about this time. Whatever magic let me understand Danshi and his people didn't seem to work as well for these other creatures, unless they normally sounded like they talked with a mouth full of mud. For all I knew, maybe they did. I got the impression that one of them asked Danshi if he knew who I was, and the one with the fancier armor asked me what I wanted here. Or what was haunted beer? Probably the former.
I realized that somehow the summoning portal had brought my rifle and range bag through with me, so I shouldered my rifle, aimed at the ugly one with his sword at Danshi's throat, and said "I want you to release my friend. Now, or you die." It didn't sound very hero-like, but I was still coming to terms with this whole thing being apparently real, and fancy speeches hadn't crossed my mind.
Several of the other goblin creatures drew their swords, and I realized that if I didn't want my friend to die, and if I didn't want to get stabbed by an angry bunch of ugly goblin-looking things, talking wasn't going to solve this. So I did what made sense with the tools at hand. I lined up my sights on the first goblin's head, squeezed my trigger...
...and promptly realized why you wear hearing protection at the shooting range. Of course, the goblin on the receiving end would have learned why you don't want to stand down-range when somebody is shooting, if he hadn't been the target. His comrades were stunned, both due to the horrifically loud report of the rifle, and due to the fact that their friend became terminally open-minded.
For a brief moment, there was no hostility, no "my side" or "their side." We all just stood there, ears ringing, dumbstruck at the bloody stump that was the goblin's neck. Eventually, it was Danshi that spoke.
"Now, if you will allow us to leave, nobody else needs to be hurt. If you try to stop us, my wizard friend here," he gestured at me, "will have to do that again. And none of us want that, right?"
The goblins looked around at each other, then at us, and nodded. "Yes. Please leave." I think one of them wet himself. I know I felt like I might, but that probably wouldn't help our situation."
Several awkward moments later, Danshi and I were outside of the goblins' castle, walking along a well-worn dirt path toward the nearby hills. Wincing and rubbing his right ear, Danshi asked me "what in the seven hells was *that?!*"
I stopped. "Wow, uh, so this is going to take a lot of explanation. And I have a million questions of my own for you, but first," I said, scooping the little cat-man-warrior-thing up into a big hug, "it's so good to see you, buddy! Do you have any idea how much I missed you?"
No matter what this was, no matter what happened next, this was real enough for me, and I never wanted to leave again.
|
White enveloped me blinding and deafening me to all. When suddenly shapes appeared all around. My eyes blinked furious trying to clear the lingering brightness from my sockets. The shapes became crystal clear. A plethora of well dressed men and women and a large stone room. Beautiful purple banners hung from the ceiling the pure white unicorn proudly placed near the bottom.
"This is your speaker?" A commanding voiced erupted through the hall, I turned on my heel looking at the source of the voice. A man draped in purple garments and crown upon his head "wonderful" I thought to myself " Your defense is a drunk with a tankard still to his lips!" The man screamed now obviously angry, I spun around then to get an entire look of the room, faces shocked and curious surrounded me and then I saw it. Aidan my best friend of my whole life on his knees with a blade to his throat.
I finally lowered the forgotten tankard from lips and swallowed my swollen cheeks of ale. I cleared my throat, " did you fall 'in love' with another hapless maidan Aidan?" I asked holding my cup at my side and slowly shaking my head. He shrugged and gave a nervous smirk, his way of saying " it's not my fault trouble always follows me." My eyes rolled as I looked to the king. " This man stands accused of bewitching and defiling my daughter!" The man roared fiercely, if I was a younger less experienced man I might have trembled. " Your highness" I began bowing as low as possible putting my free hand to my heart and my full hand aloft " I apologize for my sudden appearance and interruption of your trial but I have to ask, where exactly am I?" The rage upon the man's face shown as brightly as flame against a dark night
"You stranger are in the high court of Jethro the Fair King of the kingdom of Kirthdal! Now I order you to state who you are and how you came to be his defendant against his crimes!" I raised up after he finished and started him in the eyes making sure my cold resolve and indomitable will came to the forefront for him to see " I am Algus your highness and I was summoned because of these" I held up my hand to show my bland banded ring that wrapped around my right ring finger as I did so I walked over to Aidan hunched form and slowly pushed the blade away from him rose him to his feet and spun him to show a white ring in the same place on his same hand "they are summoning rings you see and we'll I was summoned" suddenly in that moment I remembered the accusations " I'm sorry did you say he charmed your daughter and I'm assuming you also believe he has made her with child yes? Well I can assure you, you couldn't cast any sort of charm, spell, ritual with a endless life and all the hidden knowledge of arcana" I lied trying to ease the king " and how are you so sure my daughter does not have his child growing within her how could you see so sure?"
"Well that's simple my dear king I enchanted him so that he cannot bare children" my smile grew wider Aidan screamed " you did w-" my hand shot to his mouth as I glared at him, in no small part explaining "there were to many close calls before and i wasn't going to have wind up in a situation like this, you should thank me for my forethought" the king was staring daggers as I looked back at him " how many I to believe any of this to me you look like a normal man dressed how you are and drinking as you were how am I to believe any of the words you say!" I looked down at myself and saw the robe " ahh yes hardly dressed for a court appearance I do apologize" I looked around the room and saw a servant girl I beckoned her over and gave her my tankard and bowed my head thanking her thoroughly " I realize my name must be unknown to you but I do go by a different more well known one" I stated as I snapped my fingers.
I felt the all to familiar sensation of my armor appearing around me concealing me in the black iron, the crowd gasped and I saw the anger leave the kings face as well as the color. " The... The... You are the black knight? The surge of Varkun, killer of king Horkar?" He trailed off his fear drowning the room as if they had seen the end of days upon them. I looked over in that moment and saw a young woman no older than Aidan himself looking in amazement excitement in her eyes as if to say " the stories are true!" I held out my and to her " dear princess if you would I would ask that you take my hand I wish to show your father the truth. She faltered a bit looking at her father then at me and slowly got up and ran down to me the excitement slowly burning back to life in her eyes " will you take me away with Aidan allow us to have a happily ever after?" She whispered her slight jitters like small fireworks in her body.
I frowned even though no one could see it. I was going to give Aidan a piece of my mind if this worked, " no my dear" I answered the armor slowly pulling away from my hand so I could feel her hand " I am going to show your father what happened between you to and then we will leave. And you will find a good man a better man to love you I am sure of it" she looked deeply saddened and put her hand mine " I know it is inopportune but I need you to remember the happiness you felt with my friend" a slow tear descended her cheek but she nodded and closed her eyes "
my dear king if you would please look" my fingers traced the symbols into the air as a tapestry of memory appeared above the princess and my head " I felt the emotion and saw the images in was pure and innocent affection it was mutual there was no wooing of even intercourse between the two when it was done I dawned my blade from the shadows and cut my best friends binds and pulled him to me by the collar of his shirt
"After all these years after everything we have been through after all those late nights and YOU decide to fall in love with a princess? You absolute fool!" I turned then in my fury ready to try and talk to the king when I saw him and the tear streaming down his face " I haven't seen a love like that since I was with my wife. I am sorry I doubted you my child and I am sorry I was to kill an innocent man forgive me both of you. I hear ya pass my judgement the accused is free to go but I forbade you from seeing my daughter" I grabbed Aidan before you could protest "
I thank you for your leniency my kind may you live long and rule even longer " and in a moment Aidan and I were teleported back to my study where I had been when he summoned me. " Alright it's done I saved you as you needed and now I want you to go. You are very lucky you weren't up to your usual tricks" " I love her Algus. I cannot depart from her and I will not be happy till she and I are together" I slammed my fists onto my desk " you lovesick fool how do you plan on doing that? Steeling her away? Running off to be chased till the end of your days by her father's men?" " I don't know Algus all I know is I love her and I won't rest till I am with her" I sighed my armor disappearing just like it had come "Fine. We will get you a Lordhood and go back for your beloved, they can't really deny a lord the hand of a lady noe can they?" his face brightened and he embarrassed me "Besides I need to get my favorite tankard back"
|
jd1ycac
|
jd13fqe
|
[WP] "God can come have coffee with me if he's really interested." You said, shutting the door on some irritating guys with pamphlets. The very next day, God taps lightly on your door, to have a coffee.
|
“I swear if it’s those Mormons again..”
I open the door to a radiant woman standing there peacefully, almost angelic and cloaked in white.
“Oh. Hello.” It’s hard to hide my surprise.
“So I heard you wanted to talk?” She said, her voice like a symphony. “I brought the coffee.”
She materialized two mugs of coffee in her hands instantly, “Just cream, right?”
No words could find their way to my mouth, just a little nod with my jaw frozen mid-air.
She hands me the mug as she walks past me—still gawking.
“Nice view!” She says as she effortlessly sails over to the couch facing the ocean.
A quick slap hits the inside of my skull as I watch her.
“Eyes up, boy.” She says without even turning her head before taking a seat.
I rub my head while walking over to sit in the chair across from her, still trying to shape words.
“Okay, this is actually going to be even more fun than I thought” she says with a smile as I sit down with intense focus, only able to get out a chesty “uhhhm.”
“Didn’t think I’d be a woman, did ya?” Her smile growing a little more.
“I had a clue, but wasn’t sure.” I finally spit out.
“I know. I just wanted to see your response.” She leans back a little, “I’ve sent you a lot of clues, you know.”
Suddenly so many moments where I’ve had little passing contemplations, or marveled in nature, or have been utterly hypnotized by women, and thoughtful of mothership came flooding in.
“Yeah, and there were even more than that.” She said with a sip, “I’ve had my eye on you for a while actually. It’s about time you asked me out.”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you remember that crazy MDMA trip you had, years ago?” She leaned forward a bit, a little more serious.
Suddenly the forgotten trip hit me like an anvil.
“Yeah, I had went to the astral plane and then—wait, that was YOU?”
Her eyes lit up, “I can’t believe you forgot. I didn’t quite have this body yet though. I actually just made it specially for this.”
The world started spinning around me, a little bit of coffee spilled on my shirt before she waved the mug into the air.
“Thanks.” I muttered, while a million thoughts raced through my head and then started shaking my chest like an invisible seizure.
“Am I dreaming, or tripping, or dead or something?” I said, grabbing my head with both hands and staring at the shifting floor.
She knelt down in front of me to meet my eyes—I didn’t even hear her move.
My nausea went away as soon as I actually noticed how beautiful she was, and how much love she held in her eyes.
She took my hand in hers, and I noticed over her shoulder that both of our mugs were on the coffee table already.
“I just can’t believe this is happening.” I tell her plainly.
“I didn’t think it ever would.” She said softly, “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for someone like you.”
“Like me?”
She said nothing, but gazed into my soul with the depths and patience of infinity.
Like magnets we drew closer.
Until our lips finally met with what felt like a flash of lightning.
And that kids, is how I met your mother.
|
There was a "tat-tat" sound on the door. I rushed over, wondering who the surprise visitor could be, but all that was on my porch was a package of coffee. The label said Veronica Coffee Co. I looked down the drive to see if I could catch a glimpse of my mysterious benefactor, but it appeared as if they'd rushed away because I saw no sight of them.
At first, I was hesitant to pick up the package, wondering if it was a bomb. I didn't think I had any enemies, but who wouldn't think it strange when a bag of coffee shows up unexpectedly? After inspecting it carefully, I gave in and picked it up. From it came the most pleasant aroma. I shook it, hearing beans within. *Hmmph*. It seemed perfectly fine. I read all the text on the package, which was strangely sparse, lacking even an address of where it was made. There was just the label in a thick green cursive font overlaying an image of something reminiscent of the Big Bang.
The flavor was printed below - "All Knowing. All Seeing. All Places."
If that wasn't a weird flavor of coffee, then I didn't know what was. I scratched my head for several minutes, wondering if I should text my friends to let them know that I'd received this strange package. I took pictures of it with my phone, planning to post them on Instagram, but when I went to upload them they were gone. So I took the pictures again, and the same thing happened. *Terrible time for there to be a bug in my phone.*
*Fine. I'll just text them.* The moment I was about to tap send on the text, my phone shut off out of nowhere. I tossed the coffee aside and started fiddling with my phone, trying to get it to work. At least an hour went by before I gave up and went back to the coffee. Later, the tech at a phone store told me that all of the chips inside were fried due to a rare malfunction that had only happened to six other devices of the same model. This same malfunction was also probably responsible for my inability to send the pictures that wouldn't send.
Anyways, so my stomach was grumbling now and I remembered that I had a tasty pastry waiting for the perfect cup of coffee. So I opened the package from Veronica Coffee Co. and got my french press. The package only had enough for a single cup in it, and it measured perfectly with no leftovers at all. So I made the cup, and it was by far the best cup I'd ever had in my life. Total coffee perfection. When I took my last sip I actually felt sad that it was over. I looked at the package again, trying to see if I'd missed an address or something so I could order more. Just like the first time, there was nothing.
I shook my head. I just had to tell someone about this, and not having my phone really sucked, so I decided to drive to my brother's house a few streets away. I grabbed the Veronica Coffee Co. package and got in the car. At this point, I should've expected something to happen, since everything about this was strange, but I didn't give it a second thought. And as you probably guessed, that was when the accident happened. I was proceeding through an intersection when I was T-boned by another car. I lost consciousness, my car was totaled, and of course, as you can guess - the coffee wrapper was destroyed.
That wasn't even the strangest thing. The occupants of the car who hit me were the two men who came to talk to me about God the day before. When I woke up in the hospital and found out, I knew that none of this had to be a coincidence - that somehow I was being called by God. I couldn't prove a shred of what happened to me was true. Yet I know it was because I experienced it. You can call me a liar, a fool, or a person who believes in fantasies, but what happened to me is real.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
\------
This was a fantastic prompt!
|
jcl5acm
|
jcklx5s
|
[WP] what the general expected from "religious assistance" was shipments of donated supplies, some medics and maybe a priest to preform last rites and funerals... not fifty warpriests each with a thousand holy warriors eager to kill and die for the glory of their god.
|
Watching as the warships unload what had to have been thousands upon thousands of pissed warriors injected with various doses of "God's blood", his most trusted officer stands behind him. Not saying a word as they continue to offload, dozens of warpriests form up and make their way over to where the general and his officer stood.
"Permission to speak, sir?" Said the officer, getting the general's attention.
"Granted." Confirmed the general.
"I, my soldiers and the sergeants just thought this was going to be supplies when you said religious assistance." The officer explained. "What is going on?"
"Unfortunately, you, they, and yes, I all assumed wrong." The general admitted, as the Arch Warpriest got to a professional distance from the general
"At ease, brothers." The Arch Warpriest thundered. In unison, the warpriests shifted to a more comfortable, but congruent position. "Greetings. You are the General in command here, yes?"
The Arch Warpriest doesn't make an appearance unless something is of high interest or importance. But this was just a planet of survivors from a distant solar system who simply hasn't had time to form any real body of government yet, and needed resources to rebuild.
"Me and my brothers will be taking over the operations from here forward. You are relieved of your duties, however your army will serve under my command. You are free to do as you please." The Arch Warpriest frankly explained, sugarcoating nothing. "This operation has been made necessary by God, and has made Himself clear that He desires a corporeal form." He says, slowly walking towards the fleet command room. The general walks behind him, leaving his officer with the Warpriests.
"What do you mean? How does your appearance here, of all places, have to do with God wanting a body?" The general asks, the Arch Warpriest stops in his tracks. He turns to face the general. "These filthy stragglers, their lives are... expendable. With God needing a vessel to inhabit, it requires a great sacrifice for it to come to pass. In short, the survivors will be offered up to God for the value of their souls, as the energy necessary to complete the transfer. It is a great honor."
|
Thirty battalions all in all said Argon. I see, said General Heim. Send the wounded from the river battle to camp Aleina, some clerics should come there soon, and fix them up. We'll need reinforcements from the citadel. Of those thirty J'nee battalions. Eight are reported to be closing in on Megida, we've only two battalion there, Battered to a pulp. If no reinforcements come. The J'nee will take that town. And a significant portion of our forces would be lost to the sands of time.
General! A scout came. Yes? The reinforcements have come! What reinforcements? The only forces slated to come are a small group of priests and healers.. sir! We've reports of fifty war priests! Each leading a battalion of crusaders! By god... The General was in full shock, but quickly snapped out of it. Good! Very good! Send Germain to fill them in, split em in half for now. And send fourteen battalions to Megida at once! Yes General! The scout ran off in haste.
Hussar! Yes General! Hussar the horse master, was on full alert. Ready the party at once. We ride to Megida! Yes General! Hussar went to ready the royal party and to prepare the horses.
Fifty battalions... Someone in the citadel has lost their mind or what? The General thought to himself. The thirty J'nee battalions present on the field of battle. Full of confidence, against the outnumbered twenty battalions of General heim. Are in for an ugly surprise...
Crusaders, none the less. The lesser of them, on par with some of his best men. Will crush the J'nee advance in a week. And if they stay, they could push the J'nee back to the border.
A thundering voice boomed from above. Clear! Clear the landing! Hussar shouted to the stable hands. Move the horses! The stable hands quickly rushed the horses away to safety. The squires quickly waddled away with the knight's gear on their backs, far away from the courtyard of castle Krim. The stronghold of General Heim and his party.
Suddenly, War priest General Gr'imamdo and 16 of his crusader body guards beamed down in a flash of blinding light. Frightening the novices who have never seen such a sight. General Heim! A pleasure to meet you but we've no time to waste! Yes sir! Said Heim. Gr'imamdo may have been equal to him in rank. But he still addressed him as a superior. Megida is secured! And six battalions of ours are decimating the J'nee as we speak.
By god... They've secured the city already and are moving on the J'nee? I've only now sent the command, Heim thought.
The war priests and their crusaders. Teleporting from one field of battle to another. Are no match, transportation wise, to the horses and war wagons of General Heim. And to the war drakes and battle boars of the J'nee.
This battle would be over before it began, thought Heim. As he rode to Megida.
|
jx8fk98
|
jx89gpl
|
[WP] You're immortal. But instead of secrecy or God status, you decided to become an urban legend by working at a random gas station for hundreds of years.
|
It started as a joke. That’s all it was, I just thought it would be funny if I stuck it out here for a few decades, see if anyone notices. It stopped being a joke the first time I got shot.
It wasn’t anything really, the gunner just wanted cash, apparently they took offense to how relaxed I was. I tell you, the look on their face when I didn’t react to a bullet in my heart! Priceless. But then I thought about it a bit more. Because sure, I can take a bullet! But I’m a but if a special case. What would have happened if a normal person was working this shift?!
It stopped being a joke after the first time I got shot, but I’m still here.
See, I have a theory. This station is a bit out of the way, you know, just far enough away from the city that it’s rarely visited by the cops, just close enough to inherit some of the problems. Anyone leaving the city already topped off their tanks, and anyone coming in probably just wants to get there! If anyone stops for gas HERE it’s probably because something’s gone wrong. And then tempers get hot, people get impatient, and, well! There’s just something about cars that makes people furious every waking moment! I’ve been stabbed, clubbed with tire irons, shot with handguns rifles and shotguns, and that’s just the road rage!
The robberies few and far between, and usually nothing goes wrong, most of these kids are bluffing when they point a gun at you, you see. They don’t think you’re more willing to get shot than they are to pull the trigger.
Anyway, what was your question? Ah yeah, how long. Around a hundred and seventy ish years, and I don’t really have any intention of leaving. Times are getting rougher, and that means shorter tempers and more desperate robbers, there’s no telling what might happen if someone with the luxury of dying worked here.
By the way, your total is $28.74, cash or credit?
|
Today is August 21st, 2023. I Am Jeffery. I work at Sunoco Gas Station. I am supposed to make sure the shelves are stocked, all potential customers are happy, and make money for Sunoco Gas Station.
It is late at night. Sometimes, customers become unruly at this time. There is a bar close by, and at this time of night, drunk patrons will wander towards the Sunoco Gas Station.
A man in a jacket and jeans walks in. He is a man I often see. He looks poor, but he has a lot of money. He has told me about his rich parents. His name is Paul, but he likes to be called Ruiz. I do not know why this is. He is very clearly inebriated. I must make sure he does not ruin the experience for any other customers who walk in.
"Heya -*hic*\- Juju, ya do-*hic*\-doing good man?" He stumbles as he walks in. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he frowns.
I quickly reach for him to make sure he doesn't fall over. People on the ground make for bad customer service. I must make sure all potential customers are happy.
"Thanks. Fuck, work *sucks* man." Paul grumbles. I lean him over on the counter by the scratch offs. Nobody ever buys them. Scratch offs are gambling.
"At least I-*hic*\- get some good beer at Benny's." Paul laughs. "Heya, Juju, you and I-*hic*\- should go together to Benny's this friday-*hic*\-."
Paul's speech is slurred. He is definitely drunk.
"I cannot, Paul. I work here." I speak to Paul directly and firmly. It is best to make yourself clear, so the customer does not misinterpret what you say.
"Yeah-*hic*\- you sourpuss. Just one night? My treat." Paul giggles to himself a little. Paul needs a good place to rest. I, however, do not. I have a nice bed to sleep in at home.
"I get-*BLEGH*\-Christie to be there." Paul starts to gag a little. Paul is likely to throw up. I go to get Paul a bag to throw up in. Our Sunoco Gas Station does not have a functional bathroom.
There is no need for me to be bribed by the presence of another person. I walk to the edge of the counter to grab a bag for Paul.
However, Christie is a wonderful asset. She is smart. She helps me with my job, helps me to achieve my objectives. She has explained to me how to properly talk to someone in a customer service voice. It is also unlikely that I would be required to work that night, either, as there would likely be another person on that shift. Her physical appearance and adorable jokes do not make her uneasy on the mind, either.
"It is settled. I will go with you."
"You-*hic*\- better."
I handed Paul the trash bag.
He promptly threw up.
|
jnttnqc
|
jnrbnnz
|
[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.
|
The representative from the Coalition of Human Controlled Planets (CoHCP) had, for the last three months, had been attending by proxy. Specifically a cardboard cutout of himself holding a sign which read "humans will do what must be done." At first it was thought to have been a publicity stunt, that Representative Marshall was quietly cultivating support for the species he represented.
Three days it was determined that this was incorrect. Representative Marshall had been vacationing on Tahit the entire time. The message that he was actually needed a the council meeting had to be delivered by speed boat. Despite being provided with a private warp capable ship, Marshall took over 61 hours to arrive at the council. It was noted by his colleagues that he "smelled of alcohol and cheap prostitutes."
Representative Marshall reportedly stated in reply that "they were NOT cheap." Before entering the council chamber proper, dressed in cut off jeans, a Hawaiian shirt worn open over an undershirt, dark sunglasses and a straw hat. After being briefed, he was escorted to the podium to address the full council. Some representatives claim his speech was slightly slurred, and he was seen swaying slightly. His address is quoted verbatim below.
"For ten years the members of the Galactic Committe have been under attack from foreign powers. Specifically the Xihasi Collective and their associated species. Nine years and ten months ago, I made a proposition that the Chopic [CoHCP] Navy could be deployed to end the incursion. Nine years ago the Immirii lost three worlds to the invaders, and have seen their once proud race reduced to ashes and slaves. Eight years ago it was the Torhas. Then the Sniquillib.
"During these dark days, the Committee not only did not sanction the deployment of the Chopic navy, but preemptively ordered that the Chopic navy could not be deployed. Four years ago, the invaders reached Polli. For the first time, the Xihasi were defeated. Not merely beaten, but crushed. The Committee proceeded to formally censure the Chopic for the tactics employed. Tactics that won the day. Tactics that have ensured that no other planets under the protection of Chopic have seen more than a reconnaissance probe.
"And now, after ten years of warfare, death, and defeat the council turns to the Coalition of Human Controlled Planets for assistance. In your time of need, on behalf of the human race, I have one thing to say.
"It's about damn time. As we speak Chopic ships are dropping out of warp in orbit around all 19 planets that are currently seeing active conflict. In the next six to twelve hours, Chopic ships will arrive at planets claimed by the Xihasi collective. We expect to cripple the invaders within thirty hours and expect total surrender within 50. The terms of surrender Chopic is offering have been relayed to each of you, and I expect near unanimous approval of these terms. Thank you."
Representative Marshall began to leave the podium before being called back for questions. Representative Tiiiii asked if Marshall had considered the possibility of censure for taking action prior to council approval, to which he stated Representative Tiiiii could "take his censure and shove it up his ass." He then apologized, saying "I know you don't have an ass, so you can shove it wherever your people shove things."
Marshall met most other questions with similar irreverence and hostility, except for the question from Representative Rabinti, who asked how his time was oh Tahit. It is noted that Representative Rabinti has been an outspoken proponent of the CoHCP and their tactics.
Representative Marshall remained on site at the council until the Xihasi Collective surrendered and all hostility had ceased. Representative Marshall has since returned to Tahit and is not expected to return until the next formal council session begins in two months.
|
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.
|
j6w73e1
|
j6w0h02
|
[WP] You encounter a group of 3 genies, and they each grant you one wish. One genie will grant your wish exactly as stated. One genie will ensure it's cast exactly how you want. The final genie will twist it to ruin as much as possible. But you have no idea which genie is which.
|
Okay, I thought to myself, let's reduce this puzzle down to its basic elements. Three genies, let's call them "Good Genie," "Lawful Genie" and "Bad Genie" As long as I'm careful with my wording, Lawful Genie will still give me what I want. I have two good infinitely powerful wishes, and one potentially life ruining trap. One good wish is enough to set me up for eternity, so what I really need is to gain info while minimizing the risk posed by the bad genie.
The obvious thing to do is to spend a wish to determine which genie is which. Let's say I pick a genie at random and say "I wish to know which genie grants my wish exactly as stated, which genie grants my wish exactly how I want, and which genie will twist my wish to ruin it." If I get the genie that grants my wishes how I want, what I want is for him to tell me which genie is which, he'll follow my desire and tell me which genie is the bad one, and I can spend my remaining wish on the lawful genie. If I get the lawful genie, he will follow my wish as stated, which is for him to tell me which genie is which, and he'll tell me which genie is the bad one, and I can spend my remaining wish on the good genie.
Theoretically, I should even be safe with if I get the bad genie. The bad genie will likely try to twist my wish to trick me, but it doesn't matter even if he lies to me, because I've already spent my wish on the bad genie. He can't trick me into making another wish on the bad genie because it's only one wish per genie. Then I can wish with either of the two safe genies knowing the bad one logically must be gone, and I'm solid. This should work.
Okay then, middle genie. "Out of the three genies in front of me, I wish to know which genie grants my wish exactly as stated, which genie grants my wish exactly how I want, and which genie will twist my wish to ruin it."
The middle genie turned to the other two genies. "You heard him boys, he wants to know your identities."
"I am the genie who grants your wish exactly how you want, the left genie is the one who grants your wish how it is stated, and the middle genie is the genie who tries to twist your wish." says the right genie, exactly how I wanted him to, and vanishes.
"I am the genie who grants your wish exactly as stated." says the left genie, and vanishes.
"And now you know. Wish granted." The middle genie blows me a raspberry, and vanishes.
...Damn 1/3 odds.
|
Things change, he would often say. Rarely in a good way, often unsatisfactory, but that's how it goes.
Ron had many sayings, most of which Alex ignored, except that one, somehow. Now that Ron was dead, she would give anything to hear them again.
She had seen sickness tear the love of her life apart, putting an end to all they had built together.
Her nostalgia had given way to melancholia, which in turn opened the gates of despair.
Alex clinged to all the wicked promises and mad fantasies she could find as long as it fed her hope to see Ron again. Grief had eaten common sense and logic, and still it hungered.
Until one day, when she stumbled upon a fantasy which was anything but.
Alex, obviously in pain, blood dripping from her mouth, stood before a slate of black stone in a dark room.
Three shapes were engraved on the stone, spirals turning into themselves, immobile yet giving the illusion of movement.
There were eyes in there, Alex couldn't see them but felt their gaze.
"I want my loved one back," she said.
No lights or grand display, beings beyond the scope of human consciousness cared little for theatrics.
Ron's corpse was at her feet, fresh from the grave, patches of black skin clinging to frail bones.
There used to be a big smile on that face.
"I want my loved one back," she told the second shape.
Morning light, the scent of wet moss in the woods, coalescing and seeping through the black veins, turning the wheel of life and death.
"How..."
Alex helped Ron up and hugged him, a gesture she had craved for an eternity.
"We're together now."
"Alex."
"We can pick up where we left off."
"Alex," his voice was low and sweet, Alex knew she wouldn't like it.
They broke the embrace.
"Not like this," he said, "I want you to go on, not be stuck in the past."
"You're in the present now, you're alive."
"That's not life, that's a still picture, frozen, it's unnatural."
"We don't have to play by the rules."
"Alex..." His voice was nothing but kindness, and Alex knew she would yield, "I want to play by the rules. Things have to change and go on."
Alex felt the coppery taste of blood in her mouth. She had known, deep inside, how it would play out. All the work, the hopes, the pain, the wounds, to stand in this room now. What had it been for? Did anyone remember?
"I want my loved one back," she told the last shape.
Decay and rust creeped up Ron's leg, sucking out life and gnawing away at the flesh.
It had to be painful. Ron showed no discomfort.
"I'm proud of you," he said, smiling.
Rot washed over him and left behind a pitiful corpse, one that would be nothing but dust, in time. Her loved one, back to the state he had been.
And that was okay.
Alex scooped up the corpse, and looked at its face.
There was a wide smile on the face.
Alex laughed.
She turned back to the shapes, and wondered which one of them actually granted her the wish she truly wanted.
Some questions don't need answers though, Alex decided the shapes and Ron's corpse should be allowed to rest, and she left the room forever.
|
j3u2q7x
|
j3tvxbo
|
[WP] A millennium ago, only the wealthiest were allowed to board the ship, allowed to escape this dying planet into space. In their absence the world healed and humanity built a new utopia. Now, the ulta-rich have returned and want to reap the benefits of the new world.
|
“What?” Asked Lucy as she stared at the radio that had just produced the worst message she had ever had. The rich that left the planet all those years ago were coming back. Lucy glanced up at the worlds six leaders and saw the most powerful one, Cosmic, massaging her temples. Cosmic had been there when the rich left, and she still didn’t look a day over twenty five a millennia later. Sarvin, the leader of animal’s, rubbed his head against Cosmic’s waist and she started rubbing his ears to calm herself.
“Let them come.” She said. Lucy and the others stared at her in shock and a smirk tugged at Cosmic’s lips.
“If they want to see what we’ve been able to do to the planet, then they might reconsider ever leaving us. That is when we lure them in. We play with them as they did us and when they think we’ve let them into our homes and have respected them, we kick them out of planet, making sure they never come back.” Sarvin perked up and so did the others. Looking around to each other, they could all see that they were agreeing. A growl of approval came from him and the others all yelled there approval as well.
“Let’s start the hunt.” Purred Cosmic.
|
Like hollow, sunken eyes, the barrels of weapons flared at each other. The stand off was tense. On one side, a group returning to reclaim a throne they thought was theirs. They had come screaming down from orbit, ready to take control once more, even through force. Yet, those facing them stood for their newfound freedom.
When they had first escaped to the stars, those left stranded on Earth were lost. Confused, dazed, and dying like the planet they lived on. Yet, they were able to band together. Gone we’re the days of working for your boss’s boss’s boss. Now they worked to survive. In this new climate, they toiled to repair the polluted hell they called home. The battle against the past was taxing, yet they persevered. They reclaimed their home.
Yet those who had fled kept a watchful eye. From orbit, they could see the people work do away with the old and work towards the new. Not a finger was lifted to go down and help. *Why should we,* they thought, *when they can do all the work for us?* So they sat and watched and waited, safely falling endlessly around the world.
Those down below never forgot that they were left to rot. When the first craft landed from above, those on board were sent up in a body bag. *”You are not welcome in our new planet. Do not come back.”* is what their lifeless bodies shouted to the others.
Even though they received such a vivid message, they tried anyways. All at once, they boarded their craft with the aging weapons they had. With few exceptions, they all landed together and quickly created a stronghold from which they would reclaim their world.
The people who were once forgotten would not allow this. Why should those people be able to take the Earth they left behind? And so, they surrounded the enclave and approached with weapons drawn.
Facing barrel to barrel, each side was ready to fight for the world they deserved.
|
jaczimb
|
jacyum6
|
[WP] "One drip of this poison is enough to kill a whale." The scientist points towards a table, but the beaker isn't there. Instead a silly coffee cup shaped like a beaker sits. You lower the not coffee cup from your mouth. Tastes like lemon-lime.
|
Not bad for a deadly poison is about all I could think before my consciousness began to slip away. I vaguely remembered the doctor running to catch me as the ground rushed to do the same and then nothing.
I opened my eyes to see the beaker shattered in front of me. It’s contests spilled and already beginning to dry. Weirdly everything looked a little green. From the dull orange glow on the walls I could tell the sun had begun to set meaning I’d been out cold for at least 5 hours. Realizing it had been a minute since I regained consciousness I began to stir. My body was still a little stiff from the impact I assumed. The doctor didn’t end up making it to me on time then. The doctor! I jerked my head up and turned it to the other side. He was lying a foot away from me. I turned away before I could see more but I’d seen enough. His eyes has dissolved and it looked like his brain had too or at least that’s what I assumed was seeping out of his nostrils and ears. Fear and confusion began to set in. How much longer before I died? Why hadn’t I already died? How is he dead if I had the poison? Lost in the rush of my thoughts I didn’t realize that I’d crawled away to sit up against the door of his lab. I could only see the lower half of his body from behind the table now. I can’t believe he’s gone. I tried to push up further away from his body but my hands kept slipping on the floor. In all the panic that struck me as odd since the floor was as dry as a lab floor can be. I looked at my hands and saw that there seemed to be some sort of oily layer on them. It looked a little green too. I traced my hand prints back to where I was lying and I saw a big patch of this same oil in the shape of my body on the floor there. It looked like a body outline at a murder scene except it wasn’t my body that was dead. I slowly stood up and walked around the table that hid doc’s body. It was exactly what I feared — he had the oil on his hands. The fingertips were already starting to blacken with a dark green at the edge. The implication was too much for me. I could feel the bile rising as I ran out of his lab.
Furiously pedalling my bicycle on my way home I didn’t notice the oil patches I left behind on the road or on the stairwell. I got home and ran straight to the bathroom. The last time my body was scrubbed so hard was when my mother took it upon herself to rid my body of its epidermis. I watched the oil swirl around the shower floor and disappear into the drain. A faint film of green over the soapy water creating a neat spiral. It reminded me a tree frog I’d seen on Planet Earth once. As I stepped out of the shower I towelled myself multiple times to be sure that I’d gotten all the oil off. Satisfied on not seeing the tiniest amount of green on my white towel I stepped out of the bathroom.
That was maybe the last moment of peace I ever felt. A fleeting sense of control before my worst fears came true. The poison seemed to reacted with my body in a way that is beyond my understanding. All I know is that I produce copious amounts of it through my skin now. Anything living that touches the oil doesn’t remain that way for long. Washing it away doesn’t help either. The news channels reported mass fish deaths in the rivers that handle our towns run offs. As far as I can tell even leaving it alone doesn’t make it any less deadly. Judging by my experiments on the flies that I managed to trap in my apartment it looks like the oil vapour is just as fatal. I’m scared all the time now. More than one person has died because of me — I think it was the oil I left behind on my way home. The news channels are calling it a chemical spill but I know it’s already gotten government attention. It’s a small town. Word gets around fast when outsiders come in. I’m starting to run out of food too now. I made a few grocery runs earlier but they’re too risky. I can’t control the oil and no matter how well I bathe it’s back within 10 minutes. I wish I had more courage. I would hang myself. Or burn myself. I don’t know. Anything but this. God, help me. I wish I could kill myself. At least death would bring release. Death would bring peace. God. The god of death. That’s what I’ve become. Maybe I’ll walk upto the nearest reservoir and take a quick dip. I’ll help millions that way. Help them find the release I can’t seem to find.
—————-
This is the first time I’ve ever written anything outside of my notebook and even that’s mostly just notes and bits. Not a writer by any stretch of my imagination but I’d like to try so please be generous with your feedback.
|
Authors note: I tried something different, a bit darker, hope you like it!
​
​
*Three days ago - The oceanic life research facility (OLRF) - Mariana Trench division, Indonesia.*
“Fascinating,” Amelia said.
“What’s that?” Daniel asked sipping his coffee, his earbuds in his ears like always.
“I said,” Amelia raised her voice. “Fascinating!”
“What’s fascinating?” Daniel asked taking another sip of his coffee.
“The liquid that new species of fish produces, the one we discovered last month,” Amelia said with annoyance. “One single drop of the liquid can kill a whale… What are you even doing now?”
“Drinking my coffee, with milk finally,” He answered.
“What milk, no one bought milk once again,” Amelia said.
“What was this then?” Daniel asked shaking the empty beaker.
Amelia froze instantly, could it be? No one could be that stupid to pick a beaker with an unknown liquid from the laboratory table, right? She thought to herself. Then again Daniel was, well Daniel the IT guy, he never really cared much about anything, living life on reserve power.
“Where did you find it?” Amelia rushed towards him.
“Here,” He pointed to the table where liquid from the fish stood minutes ago. “It tastes kinda funny though. Which kind is this, don’t tell me they mike out of limes now?”
“You idiot!” Amelia yelled.
“What?”
“You drank the poison?” Amelia frantically looked around the lab, hoping she was wrong.
“What? WHAT?” Daniel yelled the information only hiding him now. “No I took the white liquid from here, the milk.”
“That is the poison,” Amelia said. “It was white, like milk yes, but what the hell Daniel, do you even use your brain?”
“Oh my God, Oh my God, what do I do now?” He started pacing around the lab.
Amelia took a deep breath, trying to stay calm despite the panic rising within her. "There's nothing we can do now," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You should have been dead by now."
"What do you mean, dead?" Daniel asked, his face going pale. "Amelia, please tell me you're joking."
"I wish I were," Amelia said. "That liquid is highly toxic, and there's no known antidote. Well, we have just discovered it."
Daniel sank into a chair, his hands trembling. "So, what's going to happen to me?" he asked, his voice barely audible.
"Maybe it's not toxic to humans," Amelia said, her voice rising with hope. "Let's get you to the medical bay and see what we can do."
She helped Daniel to his feet, and they rushed out of the lab and down the long corridor toward the medical bay. Amelia was in a state of panic, her mind racing with all the possible outcomes. What if the poison really was lethal to humans? What if there was no cure, no way to save Daniel's life? Was she to blame? Was him?
As they reached the medical bay, the door slid open, and they were greeted by the medical team on duty. Amelia explained the situation to the doctor in charge, who immediately started examining Daniel.
"What do you say he drank, exactly?" the doctor asked.
“New poison from the new fish we discovered at the bottom of Mariana Trench,” Amelia asked. “It’s highly toxic, he should have been dead already.”
Doctor just nodded and continued to examine him. “He looks just fine, his vitals are up a little bit, but that could be from the panic. Let’s leave him here overnight and we will monitor him.” The doctor said.
Amelia nodded and said goodbye to Daniel leaving for her lab, hoping he would be ok.
*Two days ago - The oceanic life research facility (OLRF) - Mariana Trench division, Indonesia.*
\> 08:30 AM: SOS signal towards the mainland.
\> 08:36 AM: SOS signal towards the mainland.
\> 08:38 AM: All contact was lost with The oceanic life research facility.
*One day ago - The oceanic life research facility (OLRF) - Mariana Trench division, Indonesia.*
\> Still no contact with the OLRF
\> Rescue teams deployed to the OLRF location, one day to arrive.
*Present day - The oceanic life research facility (OLRF) - Mariana Trench division, Indonesia*.
“What do you think happened, Chief?” Henry asked his commander, Norris.
“No idea, maybe the power is just out?” He said.
“Don’t they have like a gazillion backup generators?” He asked.
“I don’t, I guess we will see in a few minutes,” Norris answered and turned towards the side of the chopper, looking out of the window.
As choppers drew closer they could finally see the OLRF in the middle of the thick forest. Seeing it this up close, the facility completely dark, a feeling of unease came over Henry, something felt way off. As they came closer and closer, they could notice that the windows on the second floor were broken and the front door of the facility was busted. Looking closer Henry saw what looked like a white lab coat in front of the building, and something red around it. No, it was a body in the coat, a body missing its limps laying in a pool of its own blood.
​
Like the story? Check out my sub for more r/LukasWrites
|
lba5a5p
|
lb948yi
|
[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."
|
Sam had read about isekai novels before, where a chosen few are whisked off to fantastic worlds, given epic quests, and become heroes in that foreign land. The most classic, of course, was to save a princess who had been abducted by a dragon, for which the brave knight would be rewarded by the princess's hand in marriage.
They'd never expected themselves to be chosen for such a quest though. Nor were they interested - lack of ability to fight a dragon aside, the reward wasn't quite interesting to them either.
"My daughter needs your help!" A booming voice atop a throne declared. "Should you be the one we are looking for, who fears not the wrath of dragons, you will be entrusted in her safety."
"This makes no sense, I'm not some warrior or adventurer, I don't know magic or witchcraft, how am I supposed to deal with a dragon?" Sam pleaded, hoping to get some sense into the king. "I'm just a babysitter!"
Besides, it doesn't seem like the princess needed saving anyway. The adorable toddler adorned in royal garb sat right there by her father's side, staring intently at her would-be protector.
The king laughed. "Oh, but that is exactly why you've been chosen. Perhaps we gave you the wrong impression at first, but no, let me make this clear. You are not saving my daughter from a dragon. She IS the dragon. You are going to protect her and keep her company until she learns how to control her magic."
Sam's eyes grew wide. They looked at the princess, then back a the king, then back at the princess again, trying to make sense of the situation.
Seeming to understand their confusing, the queen stepped out from next to the throne. For a brief moment, her irises flashed a brilliant red, her pupil thinned into a vertical line, and scales appeared around her eyes. She winked at Sam, giving them a reassuring smile.
"Go forth, my daughter. Meet your new friend." The queen gestured to the princess.
The little princess stood up, but instead of dove forward. Sam reflexively lunged forward to catch her fall, but before she hit the ground, she had transformed. Before Sam could react, they were holding in their arms the cutest little dragon they had ever seen, staring up at them with wide, brilliantly red eyes.
"Now tell me, do you think you are fit for this quest, young one?" The king asked.
Sam smiled. "Yes, your majesty, I think I am."
|
Audrey was close to being the strongest. She had studied under archmage and blademaster both. She had slain troll and ogre. Conquered ruins old and towers dread.
Before her stood a tiny little girl in red and Audrey gripped her sword hard to hide her trembling. For she was merely close to being the strongest .. human. And there was one creature no human had ever dared to try.
From a tiny hand a deadly flame roiled and spilled towards her. Audrey continued to draw in the air with her blade. With flow and footwork she weaved mana and magic. The flames could not touch her for she was a circle almost complete, a dance almost a song.
Before long the girl was spent and Audrey lowered her blade. Audrey had to admit she understood why her parents had hired her to reach their youngling. The puffed cheeks and teary eyes before her certainly did not give off the impression of a beast of legend. She fought the urge to poke those puffy cheeks or remark on the girls adorableness. It would be unprofessional.
Audrey started her questions and practice became lecture. Review and reflection. This little one was mighty but still had much to learn. In the back of her mind Audrey wondered at how her civilization still stood when a baby like this one could push her so.
...
Esmeralda was glad greater transformations hid some of the regular reflexes of the body. She was quite sure she would be trembling if that was not the case. She was close to being the strongest. The humans did not know but a wyrvern is simply a dragon of steel and stone. The more precious the scale the more powerful the drake. Esmeralda was born of father silver and mother gold. Yet she was neither. Her scales glowed the scarlet of rubies and her weyr sang that the future itself belonged to them.
Until one day the clouds carried news of the Old Warlock taking his first apprentice in 200 years. Then the wind whispered of Maestro Alfonso taking an interest in a promising new guildmate. They made the request more out of curiosity than any true expectation. But the first bout made it clear. It was true that Esmeralda was young. But her claws have rended the pride of drakes elder and her sorcery had bought confidence earned not misplaced.
Esmeralda was close the being the strongest dragon. Yet her claws could not catch and her flame have never touched. How can one finish a race that was a circle or land blows on a song? The little human even had the gall to complain that she wasn't complete! You mean she could be even stronger?!?
Esmeralda inwardly sighed and worked on her runes as she was told. It was old Fafnir who came up with the plan. The weyr was disbelieving at first but it turns out humans were horrible with money. Just a sliver of the hoard could buy the greatest hero of the age for a decade. So Esmeralda would stomach being little 'Emmy' for a while longer. It wasn't so bad really. She was actually learning things and to be honest she was curious about this 'krane game' thing that her teacher seemed to keep blowing all her pay on.
|
jxdvbn1
|
jxctqmx
|
[WP] The zombie apocalypse is here. The general public… actually has a better handle on it than the government does.
|
When the outbreak first began in the US, many of us assumed the worst to come and soon the Walking Dead or The Last of Us would become a reality. Most expected the first to fall would be the major cities and a quick end of order in society as a whole.
This shared opinion grew even more so as the military failed to contain the outbreak and even lost many soldiers sent to combat the infected, but by then, it was too late. Those government idiots actually tried to control the infected, to see if it could be weaponized. It all started with Patient Zero and a dozen other patients to whom they studied, instead of just putting bullet through their mindless skulls and saving the rest of us the risk of spreading the disease.
News spread like wildfire which is to be expected, some panicked, others remained composed in light of the news and even starting preparing to abandon the cities while others seemed excited?
It didn’t take long before a wave of infected made it towards the most populated area around the country, but instead of a city of cowering and defend-less mobs of people, the army of the undead were met with armed to the teeth, ready for action militia.
I guess the Second Amendment really did have its perks. Many people were armed with AR-15s, pistols of many varieties and even homemade explosives and tanks of gasoline.
“Yo! Hand me another gallon!” Tom voiced out casually as Jerry shifted over to his friend and handed the gallon of flammables. The two were both on the roof of a convenience store. Down below them, a horde of the undead stacked in piles, trying to reach fresh meat to convert in their ranks of rotten flesh. Their blood stained teeth chomping at the prey above them.
Jerry took a bite out of his sandwich, a turkey sub that he happily enjoyed, paying little to no mind to the stacks upon stacks of infected just a couple of feet below him. His best friend was currently dumping all the contents of the bottle in his hands onto the flesh eating animals below.
The man took out a beer from the cooler they brought with them and took a large gulp, “How many left?” Jerry burped as Tom took out a match, sliding the red tip across the box as a small flame appeared.
“Eh, I think they might be the last batch.” Tom shrugged before tossing the match over his shoulder. Not even a moment later, a bright flare shined as the horde began to burn into a crisp like the last mob of infected. The two friends merely sat side by side, ignoring the toxic scent of burning flesh.
“Wanna grab some snacks after this?” Jerry asked as Tone grabbed his own beer.
“Hell yeah.”
The two made a small toast as the flames died down along with the undead. They watched as armored vehicles, both military and self made, patrol the streets, either ramming into unsuspecting inflected or the gunner manning the machine gun struck them down.
All around the city, across America, people fought off the inflection like exterminators getting rid of several ant hills. Most zombie’s were gunned down, ran over or burned well done. Some didn’t even get the chance to bite their first victim before getting a bullet. Didn’t matter how many there were, folk just got to higher ground and pick them off. Although the zombies were terrifying in numbers, they lack one crucial quality, the human mind.
It seemed those movies and videos games seemed to be more than enough preparation for a situation like this. Teaching many what to do and what not to in a zombie apocalypse. At this rate, this crisis, if you can even call it that, would be over before dinner.
I guess we had nothing to fear after all.
|
A news anchor pulls his microphone close to his face. The cameras roll and he is set to the air- a young man, barely near his 30s with a mustache, stubble, brown eyes, and black hair with a red tie wrapped across the side of his head. He wears a patched up blue formal suit.
"It's day 217 of the people's apocalypse and I'm your host-- James Sherman! NOT BEN SHAPIRO WILL PEOPLE PLEASE STOP SAYING WE LOOK ALIKE-- anyways, as you probably know, the government has currently been at it's '30 hour strategy meeting' for the past 17 days now," James Sherman explains.
The camera man gives a thumbs up. A zombie down the street is filmed as a group of various fat and skinny men and boys with shotguns, and lead pipes, and bottled ships chase after it. The zombie slowly shuffles away, muttering something unintelligible as the people mercilessly hammer at its sunglasses.
"Uggghhh...Nooo...mhyyy...propherty! Pluhlease luheve me...aloohn-" the zombie mutters.
The camera quickly pans away as Sherman stares at the zombie.
"By the sacred roaches, they CAN speak! Oh man, mum isn't gonna believe this when she views her telly with her chips and tea-- anyways, since the government sought to end the 2nd amendment for all fellow Americans...", Sherman looks around for a moment before looking back at the camera, "...we had to look out for ourselves. For the people, am I right? The first few hours they locked us up and made us wear masks, but our brave middle aged mothers on survivor truth social out a stop to the federal government's meddling once and for all! Though they didn't stop the virus with those liquid tinfoil pills- not that I have personal experience with--"
A nearby car crashes into a building, speeding past in only the driver's half as it slowly stops next to Sherman like a taxi cab.
"Quick-- Sherman, there isn't much time! We must prevent the Anti-Zomboyz rights act of spanish-32 from being passed! I may be undead, but I'm still your great uncle on your mother's side! Whaddya say, huh?!" Uncle Zombie-Man asks.
Sherman looks into the camera. He breaks out into a sweat.
"Oh no...uh, who are you, eh he he..." He replies.
The camera man takes out a butcher's knife from his side pocket of his cargo shorts and moves near Uncle Zombie-Man.
Uncle Zombie-Man takes off his yellow rubber gloves and throws it at the camera man. The resulting mass of roaches nibble the cleaver to a wooden handle.
The camera man screams and attempts to punch Uncle Zombie-Man. Sherman stops him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, man, we need to seriously get out of her. Prep the van and get going. If I'm not back, send my letter to me mum, got it?" Sherman asks.
The camera man looks confused.
"But I can take this monster down! Why not--"
Uncle Zombie-Man takes out a burning brief case from his half-car trunk and opens it.
"How's 1 million sound? Or a Billion? The bank payed a small fortune to get rid of me, so I can pay anything under 3 billion," Uncle Zombie-Man offers.
The camera man casts a meaty red glare his way. He strokes his mustache and goatee for a minute.
"Two and a half million. I'm not falling for your scam, and my survivor buckz are worth nada, amigo," he replies.
"I can do that," Uncle Zombie-Man counts the money.
With the money exchanged, the camera man loads up a white news van with a satellite on top. He speeds off.
Now that he can think, Sherman can tell that something isn't right-- people harass zombies that don't eat their brains like the movies, heck, even his great uncle who died 40 years ago came back like it's just another day in his life! The whole burning society, urban survival thing feels more like a pseudo survival aesthetic right now...
"I was wrong-- SO WRONG-- about everything. How can I help, uncle?" Sherman asks.
Uncle Zombie-Man puts on his chefs hat and straps on his high visibility construction vest over his formal mime suit.
"Like I said, we stop the passage of the Anti-Zomboyz rights act of Spanish-32. Follow me!" Uncle Zombie-Man races to the steps of a nearby business.
"No, wait, the city capitol is that way!" Sherman yells.
He races after his uncle.
A computer screen shows a gps location- Florida, USA. Status: average Tuesday. Deploying local military beer expert troops to neutralize threats for the next week.
|
ldwkatn
|
ldwbw6t
|
[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
|
"Having grown up incredibly poor I knew I wanted a power I could earn money with, to help my mom and help my younger siblings. I considered every version of intelligence but from what I could see on the database I was screwed on that front, even in a different language. Same for strength, flight, teleportation, speed, etc etc etc. The list went on and on and on, of course it did, it covered billions of people and whilst we were taught how to navigate the database it was still fucking huge.
It was also drilled into us 5th Gen'rs how important it was to be specific, since when we finished typing it I that was it. Bad spelling included. The cautionary tales are wild.
But I needed money. My mum had eaten one sandwich a day for a whole week and I think the only filling was some cheap margarine. The sibs weren't doing much better and I couldn't keep lying that I had eaten at all.
And that's when I had that thought."
The interviewer nodded, everyone knew the thought now, many mad they hadn't had it themselves. For 10 years everyone had been jealous of this man, but he was the only one that thought it and he had used his gift to help not just his family but people from around the world. He waved his had for the man to continue.
"I remember sitting there, staring at the screen, reading about people who regretted what they chose, or couldn't get the one they wanted because it was still being held by some senile decrepid old Hero and the power wouldn't be available until they died. It just felt.... messy.
I thought *wouldn't it be better it we could swap*......
And that was it. I realised people would *pay* to swap powers! Old Hero with super strength in need of funds to retire and a young rookie desperate for a better power than 'see in the dark' could swap and pay for the privilege. It was perfect.
It took a few weeks for word to start spreading after I did it a couple of times but then it spread fast and before i knew there was food on the table every day, a roof that didn't leak, I helped my mom retire from her 2 jobs and sent my siblings to private schools. It's gotten pretty tiring recently though so i think I'll take a vacation as soon as I can."
The interview wound down and the photographer got some good pictures, the next day there would be a 4 page about the man who chose the super power Swapsies and how he was looking for someone to Swap.
|
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”.
|
k7atj5a
|
k7a2fha
|
[WP] You know, Butler, I heard that the mansion is haunted by a ghost. That's quite silly, sir. I've worked here for 228 years, and I've never seen a single ghost in the mansion.
|
Charles paused mid-sip of his cup of Earl Grey. “Pardon?”
Butler did not smile—he never did—but he gave his version of a smile, a slight curling upward of the right corner of his mouth and the tiniest crinkle beside his eyes. “I’ve never seen a ghost throughout my entire tenure, sir.”
“And—and you’ve worked here for 228 years?”
“Correct, sir. My mother was a maid here and wedded the cook. I was their child.” Butler brushed a nonexistent piece of lint off Charles’ shoulder. “Would you like some more biscuits, sir?”
Charles thought about it.
He would quite like some more biscuits.
“Yes, thank you, Butler.” Butler nodded, setting down the teapot on the table without a sound and making his way toward the kitchen. Charles, after brief consideration, resumed sipping his tea.
Stewart Butler—Charles had chuckled appropriately at the aptronym when he first heard the man's name—came with the house. The prior owner had made that quite clear, that the man had worked in their employ for many a year and could nearly manage the whole place by himself, though he was welcome to hire more staff if necessary. He’d first met the man a month or so ago when he toured the place, and been impressed by his professionalism and, well, his looks—his nicely pale face with neatly combed dark brown hair, the faintest hint of a mustache, white gloves, tall, but not so tall as to make a man uncomfortable. He’d had no issues with taking on Butler.
Charles considered the conundrum before him as Butler returned with a tray of biscuits piled neatly on a little white plate with a floral pattern, absentmindedly eating one and using the provided napkin to catch any crumbs.
“These biscuits are delicious, Butler. I presume you buy them from a baker in town?”
“I make them myself, sir. I’d be happy to teach you the recipe if you’d like.”
Charles dipped a biscuit in his tea, and decided to set the matter out of his mind entirely. People were always talking about how hard it was to find good help these days. Hard to do better than a man with 228 years of experience.
|
\*Note, the narrator of great age and Mr. Butler are separate characters because I misread the prompt and typed the whole thing out before I realized.
Mr. Butler laughed. For context, the Count had hired Mr. Butler after a member of the "casual servants", one Gerald O. Verdos, lost his unfortunate battle with Cancer, the Count's giant pet crab, who shot Mr. Verdos point blank.
"Why do you laugh?" I asked. "Do I not look my age?" I certainly hoped not. Brushing my cheeks, I felt for wrinkles, but nothing marred my good looks.
"No, no not in the slightest." Mr. Butler chortled. "But such a silly joke I'd never heard before."
"Mr. Butler! I never joke!" I stomped one foot, put my hands to my hips, and pouted. The new servant looked a tad put off, much like a disappointed father listening to his paraplegic daughter explaining to him her dreams of being a ballerina.
"Well, er... I suppose I ought to meet with the master of the house." Mr. Butler mumbled and stalked off to the Master's Wing of the mansion. I quickly stopped him, since the last man to go in there without good reason, a burglar, found Himself Dead shortly after. Himself Dead being the name of the giant octopus that guarded the master's bedroom, the burglar got away perfectly fine, if missing his clothes and dignity.
"You don't believe me?" I spoke, hoping to distract him with conversation.
"Well how can I expect a girl who looks no older than 18 to have worked here for two centuries? I'd need proof!" I leaned back and thought... Then I realized something.
"Mr. Butler, did you by chance have a paternal grandmother named Laurie?" His eyes widened slightly. "And would you recognize a picture of her at age 18?" His eyebrows closed the distance between them in a frown of fear. I pulled from a pocket sewn into my dress a black leather wallet, heavy and studded with metal spikes. From my wallet I read out a few gift cards. "Blockbuster, Neiman Marcus, Alpha Beta... Where did I? Oh other pocket." I unfolded a hidden flap on the wallet and withdrew a picture of myself and my friend, Laurie, together on the streets of France.
"Th-that is... What!?" Mr. Butler's eyes widened and his face paled even further than I thought possible. It was indeed his grandmother. "Y-you really are a... a g..."
"A grandma?" I offered.
"A gho..."
"A gorgeous looker?" I guessed.
"A GHOST!" He screamed and ran from the mansion. I barely got to the window in time to see him run out the garden gates. I crossed my arms and sighed. Pulling a flask from my pocket, I took a sip of water from the master's private fountain of youth, entrusted only to his most loyal servants.
"Ghosts? Pishposh. Ghosts aren't real."
|
j3h7cjh
|
j3h21lz
|
[WP] "Sure, it'll only cost you your soul" you used to jokingly say whenever you did something for free. everyone always got a laugh out of it, and so did you! until the first soul showed up in your living room with a very, very tired looking reaper.
|
Death looked tired. Oddly enough, this was the first thought Ed had, staring at the robed figure in his doorway. Darkened circles lined empty sockets, resembling smudges of ash on Death's high, bleached cheek bones.
"Can...I help you?" Ed inquired. Standing at a modest 5 foot eight, jeans and a t-shirt, coffee in hand, Ed didn't feel the least bit dead.
Death let out a very long, shoulder slumping sigh.
"Unfortunately, yes. You can stop bartering souls, for a start.", said Death. His sentence ended with a wheeze.
Ed, looking perplexed, uttered a simple, "Pardon?"
"Listen and listen well. As you can imagine, I am incredibly busy. I've spent the last week schlepping about with this. " Death paused to lift up something that resembled a glowing worm, about 3 inches long. He continued, "This unfortunate soul was SUPPOSED to be bound for Hell. I have a rather large bucket of these. I was unable to enter the gates until I had weeded out that which does not belong. Thousands of worms and I had to single out this poor....hmmm....plumber, was it?"
Ed sipped his coffee as he listened raptly. Plumber? Hadn't Joe, his plumber neighbor, passed away about a week back? They weren't exactly close, but Joe would frequently borrow his hedge trimmers. At this recollection, Ed choked as his coffee went down the wrong pipe. Hadn't he always joked and said, "You can borrow it, but it'll only cost your soul." with an exaggerated wink.
Death, not accustomed to human interaction, ignored Ed's sputtering and resumed, "It's not exactly unheard of, selling off your soul to another mortal, but there's usually some pacts written out, worked through the proper channels. It would seem you have...slipped through the cracks."
The reaper paused frequently and had a very slow, methodical way of speaking. Edward, himself unaccustomed to dealing with mythical beings, felt humor might be a good coping mechanism.
"Well, that's not all bad, right? If you were coming for me, I guess my name would be Deadward." he said, with a chuckle.
Death paused, raised a finger, paused again and inhaled, "That's...actually pretty funny. I enjoy dark humor. It might lighten my mood when next we meet."
"Won't be for a long time, yeah?" Ed asked, nervously.
"Oh, sooner than you'd think, I suppose. I'll be dropping numerous souls off for you in the future, quite regularly. You're in the books, now."
"Pardon?" The perplexed look had returned to Ed's face.
"You've made numerous contracts. Quite successful at it, really. I hadn't seen anyone collect quite so many since they were burning people alive for this kind of thing. Quite impressive, really. Would be nice if there were some award for it, but I guess the souls are enough. Anway, I'm off. Enjoy."
Death placed the small, glowing worm in Ed's hand and gently closed the recipient's fingers for them. With a rustle of a cloak, Death wrapped in on himself, slowly disappearing into nothing.
"Heya Ed!" screeched the little worm.
Eyes bulging, Ed jerked his head down to stare at the worm. At Joe?
"I reckon that hedge trimmer should have been lined with gold and did all the trimming on autopilot, considering the cost, eh?" Joe quipped.
Throat constricting, Ed croaked out, "What...am I going to do with you?"
"Could go for bit of a nibble, if you don't mind. Maybe a little nip of whiskey. I'm all out of sorts." The voice of the worm was high pitched, warbly and generally disconcerting.
Ed leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. With a brief shrug of his shoulders, Ed says, "Yeah, alright. In you go.", and carries Joe inside.
[Pt. 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/106i1sg/wp_sure_itll_only_cost_you_your_soul_you_used_to/j3hin01/)
Future additions will be posted to [r/EdandTheDead](https://www.reddit.com/r/EdandTheDead/). Hopefully every Saturday.
|
Another soul had slipped through Daniel’s letterbox during the early apricot morning, before he’d woken. This particular soul was a puddle of purple oil that had splashed onto his hallway’s faux-wood laminate.
Daniel took a out a brand new sponge from the cupboard beneath the sink, then held it softly above the soul; the purple patch oozed upwards in tears and bubbles until it clung completely, safely, to sponge’s surface.
“There we are,” said Daniel, as he placed the sponge on the kitchen table. “One moment, I’ll just fetch you a jar.” The sponge shook ever so slightly.
“Don’t be scared — things will improve, I promise. It might just take a while.” Daniel‘s house was packed with empty jars, like a sweet shop after a closing down sale. He picked an empty jar with a blue label clinging to it from off the windowsill, then with a pen, crossed out the name on the label.
Gingerly, Daniel’s liver-spotted hands twisted the sponge over the jar until the soul let itself drip into it. As soon as the lid clattered closed, the jar began to glow — lantern bright.
”Now,” he said, slipping on a pair of spectacles then holding the jar in front of his yellowing eyes, “let’s get a better look at you. See if I can’t work out where you belong, eh?”
He’d had a hundred souls or more come through his letterbox over the years. But it’d been at least two years since the last. Daniel had never caught the delivery person — only a glimpse once, through his apartment’s spyhole: a whisk of torn grey cloak spindling around the corner and onto the stairwell; the yellow ceiling light glinting low down, hinting at a bone-white foot.
The jar was steaming up already. Symbols were being scrawled into the purple moisture from the inside, as if the glass held a living finger rather than a soul.
For many years, Daniel had kept the souls he’d been given. His wife had encouraged him to release them, but they seemed happy enough on the shelves, painting their glass homes with the decorations of their lives — of books they’d written, of lovers they’d kissed, of rainbows they’d witnessed. They scrawled their lives onto the moisture of the jar like notes left from one lover to another on a steamed up mirror.
Some of these souls, through the various clues, he recognised. A primary teacher, an elderly neighbour. He remembered the promises these souls had made to him in life in return for a helping hand. Disingenuous promises — a harmless joke, really — but apparently binding.
Once, not long before his wife had passed, one jar on an old bookshelf became wildly animated. It shook and trembled and despite Daniel trying to calm its occupant (it’s okay, no harm will come to you as long as I’m here), the jar toppled from its ledge and cracked open on the floor.
The soul spilled out on the laminate to neve move again.
That was when Daniel finally made up his mind; when he listened to his wife. Together, they determined to solve every clue on every jar until they could scrawl a name on each label and know exactly who each jar contained. Then, they would return the souls to their families. Let their loved ones say a final farewell before releasing them.
Daniel sat at his table and watched this latest soul draw its own clues: flowers, hearts, a globe — a romantic spirit, he thought. A spirit surely happy with the life it led. He’d find its family and return it, when he could. He held a pen in his hand waiting for the clue that would jog his memory and reveal the occupant.
It wasn’t until this spirit began drawing rows of tiny jars, their lids slid off, and what looked like butterflies within leaping towards the clouds that he knew.
”Eloise,“ he whispered. His pen clattered onto the table.
More hearts etched themselves into the purple moisture.
His wife had died a year ago. Surely it couldn’t be…
But how many times had he done something for her, only to make that stupid joke?
He didn’t own her soul. Didn’t want to. Love didn’t work like that.
”I miss you,” he said.
A smiling face.
“So damn much,” he said, as he opened the lid.
The soul had warmed itself into a state like gas. It exhaled — the sound of a deep breath — as it left the jar. A tiny purple cloud, a butterfly if you squinted, feathered around his neck and ears and cheeks. Gentle as a kiss against his skin.
Then the cloud began to expand, the particles separating.
He smiled through his tears as the purple evaporated into the air around him.
He’d see her again, soon, if he was lucky.
|
j8vyej3
|
j8vy61n
|
[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
|
“May I have ice cream, **please**?”
“**Thank you** for helping to tie my shoes, Mrs. Baxter.”
“The answer is **144**.”
“George Washington was born on **February 11, 1732**.”
“I don’t know, Tommy. We **definitely shouldn’t play on the train tracks**.”
“His name is, **Buster**.”
“You’re so nice to me. I **like you, Sally**.”
“Sally, we need to talk. This has weighed heavily on my mind. **Long-distance never works out**.”
“An interest rate swap is advisable **when you would like to secure a fixed cost of debt service without moving to a traditional fixed rate loan**.”
“I really should study, Tommy. Plus, **neither of us should dabble with such a dangerous and addictive substance. It would be foolhardy and arrogant to believe we would emerge from the experience unscathed**.”
“Tommy was my best and oldest friend. I didn’t tell him enough what he meant to me. I never told him that I loved him. **The folly of youth: we think we’re invincible, that we have nothing but time; we favor the frivolous instead of the important, we value the trivial and take for granted the critical. I—just like all of you—wish I had a moment more with him, I wish I had gone with him, stopped him. I wish I had said more, I wish…I wish**.”
“**This merger will be beneficial to both entities. The strategic synergies are boundless, the fundamentals of the target are sound, and its market penetration allows us to reach demographics we would never otherwise be able to. The valuation, in my view, is more than fair, the payout will satisfy current shareholders and deter any derivative suits. We should be able to hit the ground running; our models estimate profits will scale to three-x by the close of fiscal ‘24. This will make us the largest quarrying company in the world**.”
“**Will you marry me**?”
“**I do**.”
“**Yes, Dear**.”
“**I was wrong**.”
“**No, that dress does not make your butt look fat**.”
“**We really shouldn’t have kids. Neither of us are realistically equipped for that responsibility. And look at the state of the world. We should not bring a child into this world just for them to suffer the consequences of the actions of those long-dead**.”
“**I will not get rid of my rock! My rock has been with me since I was a child. It’s not a problem that I’m always holding my rock. I love my rock. It makes me feel strong. No one thinks my rock is weird. They think you’re weird**.”
“**I think we should talk. I just don’t think you’re supporting me anymore. I don’t think this is going to work. No, this isn’t about the rock. It’s not us, it’s you. I just don’t think I can stand to be with you any longer**.”
“**I love my rock. My rock loves me. We don’t need anybody, me and my rock are free**.”
____
r/InMyLife42Archive
|
... 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.
|
jhmnsrc
|
jhlex7m
|
[WP] "There are three rules for mind-readers..." The man speaks sternly. "Don't read loved ones, don't reveal your powers, and NEVER try to read animals." He shivers a bit. "You probably think that last part is a joke but trust me; one glimpse into a horse and you won't be right for a week."
|
"...what's so dangerous about a horse?"
"Do you have four legs?"
"What?"
"Do you have four legs, and a tail, and a hankering for speed?"
"No! No, I don't!"
"And you're sure of that?"
"Yes!"
"If you read a horse, then you *won't* be. You'll try to gallop, eat some delicious-looking grass. You'll lose bowel control in an open field. You'll try to swat flies with the tail you don't have, you'll forget how doorknobs work."
"...permanently?"
"Nah, not permanently. Well, *mostly* not permanently. The mind *does* recover. You won't be right for a week - but you will be right, eventually. Mostly."
"...what do you mean, 'mostly'?"
"I... I made the mistake of trying to read a horse once, around three years ago. I *still*, to this day, can't get enough of going fast."
|
With the exception of the second one, these seem arbitrary
They are there for a reason
That being?
You don't want to know what your loved ones are thinking,the last time someone disregard that they fell into a depression and killed themselves a month after(kinda happens when your SO is a Piece of shit)
And the one with the animals?
I'm not gonna think of it,otherwise it will spread to you too
It can't be that bad Right?(is he exaggerating?)
I'm not
20 bucks says your just weak
Deal,but please don't do it with any predator,try a herbivore first,fine I'll just see some sheep then
A week later
*Slams 20 dollars on the table* what was that?
We don't know,most people kill themselves before they explain
*Looks around nervous for ANY animal* since when do all animals have become Eldridge abominations,of the n dimension?
Probably forever,since these rules have been in place forever
Why didn't you tell me?
Because you wouldn't listen(not the first time)
What you mean not the first time?
You thing you're the first person to get warned about it and still went through?
No, but seems like it wasn't the second or the third time this happened either, was it?
Nah,your is probably shy of the millionth time this decade
That doesn't explains why you don't take bigger precautions
Already tried it, so give it a rest
Fine( i wonder if a had seen a preda-)
Don't
Wh-
I SAID DON'T
|
jm682dd
|
jm62tlo
|
[WP] The alien leaders can hear the past of a species like it's music. The Slyth sound like hyms and peaceful chanting, the Goraz sound of drums and whistling. The newest discovered species are the humans and all that can be heard is grinding gears and screaming... Soo much screaming.
|
Screaming.
It was all I heard at first.
Then, it finally finished processing- It wasn't just screaming. The screams were a chorus, backed by the steady drumbeat of grinding gears and gunfire. Above the harmony of screams rose a melody of crackling flames and tears.
The gears, the gunfire- They progressed through pain. They progressed to cause pain. Great leaps and bounds, recorded by blood. Gears that broke those unable to catch up to the great minds, gunfire that took down those unable to fight back against the strong.
A chorus of screams, of billions dead at the hands of another. A child, a parent, a sibling, a friend- All of them faded into each other, indistinct from the rest of those who didn't last.
Crackling flames from a planet burned. Tears of those who couldn't survive.
We Kirath hear the history of who we meet in the form of music, and we have met thousands over the years.
The Goraz sounded like drums and whistling. They are new, yet to evolve beyond tribal, but what we have heard has given us hope. They are still young, and we can't say if we will always like them.
The Slyth sounded like hymns and peaceful chanting. They never progressed beyond their simple farming lives, even after millennia. They never stood a chance.
And humans...
Humans sounded like kindred.
|
Greetings, all members of the Galaxy Federation, we of the Hessian Delegation are sending this message to warn you of the newly discovered space-faring species called humans.
To give you a brief background, Hessian leaders can hear the past of a species like it's music. The Slyth sound like hyms and peaceful chanting, the Goraz sound of drums and whistling.
But these humans? Ambassador Torak and his band of diplomats went insane upon returning from his first meeting with humans to assess their application to join the Galaxy Federation. He would not stop babbling about how humans do not emit music but non-stop screaming after an unfortunate attempt to peer into their past.
These are his words:
All I hear from these humans are grinding gears and screaming... Soo much screaming. The screaming would never stop. Loud screaming, deafening screaming, cacophonous screaming. They never stop. What have they done? What have they lived through? What have they killed? What have they tortured? How many voices are in those terrible screams? I cannot stop counting the screams that never stop.
As of this announcement, Torak is still undergoing psychiatric treatment under our best psychotherapists but shows no signs of recovery. He has spent his days banging his head against the padded walls of the combined therapeutic wards housing his team of traumatized diplomats, trying to destroy his eardrums to silence the screams of the humans.
This is not a drill, this is a real warning.
Do not allow humans into the Galaxy Federation. They are not peaceful like the Slyth, industrious like the Goraz. They are a violent, cruel, war-like race filled to the brim with insanity.
We must not let the insanity spread to others as it has afflicted Torak. For the safety of the aliens of the galaxy, do not engage them, do not fight them, steer clear of them.
Stay safe, fellow members of the Galaxy Federation.
We pray to our gods of this universe the humans never find the rest of us.
|
k6etfsz
|
k6ebpw9
|
[WP] A man tells a group of terrified kids around a campfire a ghost story, that took place in the same forest. Suddenly, the ghost from the story appears, slightly annoyed and trying to explain things from their perspective.
|
“Henry spent hours looking for his little sister, desperate to find her. But to no avail. Some say that she was kidnapped by an escaped criminal. Others say that the woods themselves took her. But what everyone agrees on is this: Even now, decades later, Henry haunts these woods in search of her. Howling for the little girl to come back home… And sometimes, he takes the ones who just look like her.”
Mark let the tension hang heavy in the air, holding back the smirk as he watched Jane and her friends inch closer to the fire and to each other.
Was it a dick move to scare his little sis and her friends? Kind of. But come on, he was missing party at Monica’s house for this. Might as well get a few laughs out of-
“Excuse me?”
Mark yelped as someone’s cold-ass finger tapped him on the neck. He was about to go off at the random weirdo until he saw just who it was.
Seven feet tall, skinny and pale, with their glowing with ghostly lights, the thing barely resembled a human and yet it was unmistakably the Howling Henry.
“The fu-?”
Howling Henry smacked him on the head.
“Language. The kids are here.”
Not an illusion. A guy in the costume, maybe? Whoever this was, he didn’t want to find out.
Mark put himself between Henry and the girls, pulling out the knife he took to carve some wood into the fire.
“Girls, get inside the car and-“
“I am not here to take them, Mark,” Great, the creep knew his name. “Okay, rude. I am creepy, yes. But a creep?”
“What do you want from us?”
“Honestly? I just want to make a few things clear here. Do you mind putting the knife away?” Henry pushed his hand towards it, letting metal pass through. “It’s cool that you are being a hero and all but it is just awkward.”
Despite his attempts to get the girl into the car, the entire group remained as Henry sat down near the campfire.
“First of all, you got the ages wrong. I was the younger sibling. It was her who dragged me here. I was just ten and so followed her without much questions.”
“Secondly, it happened during the summer, not the winter. I get it, winter sells the horror better. It is cold and gets darker faster. Plus, this was during the time when winter was generally the season of death. But for crying out loud, if you are going to say it happened in winter, at least change the part where both of us are wearing summer clothes?”
“Now finally, I never howled for her because I lost her. I howled for her because she left me. She led me into the cold and dark woods and disappeared.”
The group looked at Henry. One of the girls offered him her s’more. He took it and thanked her even if it passed through his palm.
“Why are you telling us this?”
“Because I am ready to move on,” Henry said. “I promised myself to find her and get my revenge. Or failing that, that I would haunt and hurt her descendants.”
He then looked at Jane. Mark reached for the knife.
“But I won’t. My sister may have left me to die, for reasons I will never know. But neither you nor your sister are to blame.”
He smiled, his fork growing more transparent.
“And I guess that’s the final paragraph to my story. Take care of each other, you two.”
|
By the time Tibo had sweat enough everybody looked around and truly wonder:
*Is this guy serious?*
They were not expecting such dramatic and violent tale.
And worst of all it was set up in the same place they were just camping for their long weekend.
​
Likankabur exploded in laughter and finished a whole can of his pale lager.
​
He manifested his apologies but still he didn't mean it.
He kept laughing and some of the foam could be seen hanging from his beard.
​
Tibo grabbed a stick and start drawing random figures on the soil trying to keep himself away from such traumatic experience he had just listened.
​
Malcom who had been attentively listening to the story was thirsty for more.
​
*Lika, but this tale didn't take place here right? I mean, it's all made up right?*
​
Likankabur spotted another opportunity to have a little bit more of fun, and why not crack another beer.
​
*Indeed Malcom, you're tent is set right where the murder took place. The bush right above your awning it's said to still hold dried blood. If you look over your shoulder, youh WHaHAHAHAH*
*HAHAH... Oh my god...... I can't....\*drinks a mouthful of beer\*... You should see your faces*
Anika stood up and kicked his cooler box full of beers cracking some of them open and spraying them all over:
*You are a sickward Lika, how dare you waste our time like this plus coping with your alcoholism?! Have you lost your mind?!*
​
By the time she had finished with her lecture the bonfire went out within a split second.
Everybody's eyes opened up and pupils went directly focused into the ashes.
There was no exception and everybody could feel how each of their body hairs erected since explanations were not going to be found for what was happening.
A strong and swift gale passed through and temperatures dropped almost instantly within the perimeter.
The scattered cans could be seen shaking all at the same time and off of the bush a putrid hedor could be smelled.
​
Likankabur legs started to move involuntarily and his eyes rolled over all the way to their backs.
He stood up from his chair and knee down right were the fire was lit.
​
He said with a otherworldly voice that this was nearly the 100^(th) time that this old man was telling the story about her dead.
Every time this happened her soul got awaken but the most evil kind of archangels in an intend of avoiding her eternal rest.
There was nothing that could help to leave her in peace.
He would come every second weekend of the month with a different group of people and would always have fun but getting drunk and bringing up her violent decease story in the middle of the night.
Smell of flesh could be sensed.
Linkakabur pants started to smoke and his skin was slowly getting burned by the contact with the remaining hot ashes.
The ghost promise everybody that nothing of this would be remembered over the next day, but the scars on Likankabur's knees would remain forever.
Malcom tried to say something but he had no control over his face muscles.
He looked around and everybody seemed hypnotised by all the current matters.
Tibo who was the most afraid had been laughing over the whole scene.
He could simply not conceive what he was witnessing.
​
Anika looked at her wrist watch and could see it's hands frozen.
She poked the glass with her right index in an attempt to revitalise it.
​
The smell of burned flesh started to penetrate everybody's nose trails til the point of becoming unbearable.
As if they had been under a spell, everyone stood up and removed Likankabur from the pit and placed him back on his chair.
Ice, water and cloths were brought over and a quick procedure was performed.
|
j9kkeip
|
j9kdk09
|
[WP] After the Christian Rapture happened to everyone's considerable shock, those left behind (and those born to them after) all had a strange, unremovable marking appear on their foreheads. It took decades to translate, but the result was horrifying; "Do not harvest, not fit for consumption."
|
It was a day like any other when the earth shook violently and the skies suddenly turned bright. All around the globe same sight could be seen. People saw what seemed to be giant, glowing beings descending from the heavens, Angels. Angels were unlike anything anyone had ever imagined, with wings blindingly beautiful and an otherworldly radiance that seemed to emanate from their very beings. As they drew closer to the earth, people began to feel an unfamiliar discomfort.
Christians, true believers, were taken that day. Taken to eternal peace, while the rest of humanity was left to ponder their decisions. Angels circled the globe several times leaving an unfamiliar mark on people's foreheads as they left.
Everyone born after that day got the same mark. No one knew what it meant, the leading theory was that it branded them sinners, someone who would never be able to reach and experience what those people did on that holy day.
Since that day, Earth changed forever. Most people stopped looking for material success and turned towards Christianity. Years later first marks finally started disappearing and humanity found hope once again.
Five years later Angels returned once again, taking those whose markings had disappeared. That was a clear sign for humanity of what their goal should be.
Angels repeated the same process five years later and one of them spoke that they would continue to do so. Sins can be forgiven and people can be accepted and brought to heaven with them if they work hard enough, and devoted their lives to it. Almost fifteen years had passed after that holy day and humanity eagerly expected the return of the Angels once more.
All of this did not sit right with Marcus, a history teacher, who combed through every book he could find trying to decipher the strange marking. He found himself in Egypt, at ancient ruins, looking for the final clues, he was so close.
His children and wife waited for him at home, their markings gone almost a year now. His wife Vivian had begged him to leave this pursuit of his and join them, she could help him lose the mark, and become a believer. She could be his guide into eternal peace and ascension.
But Marcus could not let it go, he had to follow his gut. He brought his team of eight people with him to Egypt, and all of them shared the same feeling of uncertainty and eeriness that surrounded the Angels.
They combed through the ancient site looking for final clues, something was missing. Every translation they did reading the parts of the strange symbol made no sense.
“Boss,” Lorein yelled. “I think I have found it, come look at this.”
Carved into one of the stones was a part of the symbol that decorated most of the remaining humanity’s foreheads.
“That’s it,” Marcus said. “We have everything we need. Bring that whole block, we will have the symbol translated tonight!”
They spent the whole night translating the symbol and just before dusk they succeeded.
The message read: "Do not harvest, not fit for consumption."
It was a chilling revelation, one that sent chills through the team. The implication was clear: those who bore the marking were safe and the others were in grave danger.
Minutes later as the team was still proof-checking the earth shook once again and the sky became bright. The Angels have returned once more.
The feeling of dread and horror swept over Marcus, his wife, and children had lost their mark and he was on the other half of the planet away from them. He was right all along but he was too late, he had lost his wife and children.
One of the team members was unbothered by the revelation and angels returned and continued translating part of the stone they have found at the ruins. He finished the sentence that was written at the bottom of the stone:
“If they ever return, find me!”
[part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/118w5n1/comment/j9labxl/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)
[part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/119emsf/rapture_do_not_harvest_not_fit_for_consumption/) \- On my sub, easier to read/post as this post is getting pretty crowded.
[part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/119gsw6/rapture_do_not_harvest_not_fit_for_consumption/)
[part 5](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/11a9sbq/rapture_do_not_harvest_not_fit_for_consumption/)
[part 6](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/11bsjtp/rapture_do_not_harvest_not_fit_for_consumption/)
|
Everyone remembered it like it was yesterday. Christmas, 1999. The more technophobic branches of society were busy fearing Y2K. Some apocalyptic events due to a computer bug.
Everyone wished they were that lucky. A quick death via the Walmart version of Skynet. What a time to be alive.
But no. Instead, the apocalypse came in the fashion many were unlikely to actually believe. Everybody's religious until actual angels are spotted. That's what happened. And then, people disappeared. Remember all those religious texts about The Rapture? God's chosen people ascend to the heavens and the rest of us are left behind to confront the apocalypse via legions from Hell.
Hundreds of millions of people around the world vanished in an instant. Which in the grand scale of things is already problematic enough. But it's not the people that was the problem. It's what those people were in the middle of doing, at the moment of being connected to God's Wi-Fi.
Vehicles crashed. Multiple infrastructure services, and resources collapsed for a couple of weeks. And generally the world shut down for most of a month. This isn't including things like mass panic, small civil wars, and generally idiocy that tends to occur when people assume it's the end of the world. You know, the usual.
Eat your heart out Y2K.
Then supposedly there would be several years of societal collapse and destruction before the second coming of Jesus.
"Well, Jesus never showed up. And neither did Satan or any demons. So I'd say we're in the clear." Parker said with a grimace. The irony wasn't lost on him.
"That's what I'm saying." Vinay agreed.
The pair continued scanning the various things around the room. In the 25 years since The Rapture, science had truly taken the wheel. Our differences were much more trivial than figuring out what actually happened that day. At least to learn why they each wore a cryptic symbol on their heads from that day forward.
Parker remembered the hours after it scratched itself in on him. A fun thing to occur immediately after losing your family. His mother and brother vanished, his father was killed when their driveless truck hit a retaining wall.
Vinay didn't fare much better. Famine visited his part of the world when much of the local farming community got deleted. Most of his family who didn't disappear starved.
"You know the thing that gets me." Vinay began, as they began working on the large skeleton in front of them.
"Hmm? What's that?" Parker agreed as they let the AI program begin reconstructing the odd symbols they found in the clothing.
"It didn't just take Christians."
Parker sighed. "I kinda' assumed that. The whole world doesn't believe in the same things. That'd just be vanity to think that."
"I know." Vinay continued. "Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims. Mormons."
"Exactly. The whole world got affected. Plenty of people told me their loved ones and friends got taken. Even people who didn't believe."
"So what does that tell you."
"Angels, God, or not..." Parker assumed. "It picked us at random."
"Like tending to a crop." Vinay explained as he checked the scans of the clothing. The symbols matched language used in the symbols on their foreheads.
"What does it say?" Parker asked from the skeleton.
"Do not harvest." Vinay paused. "Not fit for consumption."
The reveal was only a couple of years earlier. But the world erupted in confusion yet again at its translation.
"We're just food for them." Parker theorized.
Vinay continued reading what he could see. "We don't necessarily know that."
"If it was a rescue, you'd say it was a rescue. Unless we're talking tuberculosis, there's usually only one other meaning for the word 'consumption'."
Vinay grimaced at the idea. "We're the flock, they're the shepherds. Did I get that right?"
"Close enough." Parker brushed off. "So what happened to this guy? Thought they weren't able to be killed."
"You'd think that." Vinay said as he checked a work tablet. "Turns out being hit by a 747 at cruising speed does the trick."
They both looked over the shattered bones. The fanged jaw slack and broken. The wings that had been reduced to fragments.
"World's largest bird strike." Parker answered.
Violeta, their team's photographer, circled the body incessantly. She was busy snapping photos of the bones for later research. With new technology, came new chances to investigate past discoveries. She was there to document it all. She wasn't a fan of banter however; and so she continued silently despite their observation.
"Everything that comes in here just suggests what we keep talking about." Vinay said as he rested against a counter. "We're just food."
"What concerns me." Violeta spoke. "Every child born has the mark too."
"Not fit for consumption." Parker repeated.
"Yes." She said before setting her camera down. "But what if someone is born without it? After all this time?"
"...Be prepared." Vinay said as he looked at the bones again. "Because I think they're coming back."
---
Little bit of eldritch horror. Just a little.
r/Jamaican_Dynamite
|
j4k4nj7
|
j4jolgk
|
[WP] the normally non-violent hero loads a single bullet into their antique long unused revolver and prepares a shot. "if you kill me you'll be just like me!" the villain exclaims. the hero is unconvinced.
|
_bang_
"Why do they keep trying to pull that shit?"
_"Dunno Sidekick Boy."_
"I mean it's not like there's any sort of true equivalence. You only shoot supervillians. And only the ones that kill civilians. They shoot _EVERYBODY_."
Gun Man just shrugs and pops the spent shell from his gun.
"I mean it hasn't worked for the last 20 Supervillians. Why would they think it works for them?"
Gun Man sighs and says, _"Listen. My first supervillian said to me, if I killed them, the number of murderers in the world would stay the same ... so I decided to kill at least two."_
|
The click of the revolver, the roar of the bullet's flight. A soft noise of blood spattering the wall.the villain gasped in disbelief at his chest, his trachea now with a fatal hole within, as he exhaled, and he hit the floor with a thud. The young girl glared at them. "You... You had the audacity to say that after everything... All those children left in early graves. All those failed experiments. You have the audacity to say I WOULD BE ANYTHING LIKE YOU?" She yelled in anger, glaring at the monster who had beaten her. Hurt her. Deformed her. "B-because I loved you dad! I thought you could change! I tried to give you every chance! I'm s-so sorry!!" She cried, tears coming from her face as she knelt down, self hatred immediately flaring as she stared at her creator, as she desperately tried to fix the damage, yet he held her hands to stop her, wheezing as he hacked up blood, a hand slowly reaching to her face.* M-miriam... He said softly, dying. His eyes seemed to fade. T-that was your name... *He said, his final gaze being not of anger, sorrow or fear, but of recognition, a memory caught.. Slowly senses fell from the villain, until finally his soul fell from his body.
|
jb6gvvh
|
jb5zkuj
|
[WP] The lottery is a secret plot to catch time travellers. You have just been detained despite winning by pure luck.
|
"You thought you could get away with it, huh?!" he spit in my face. The man was wearing completely tinted sunglasses and leather gloves. His face, an uncomfortable amount of inches from my own, moved away, letting the bright ceiling light pierce my retinas.
I thought the knock on my door was going to be one of those TV guys with a vibrant suit and a large prop check. Instead it was two officers in matching black uniforms shoving me into a bag and throwing me into an unmarked van. I didn't think I was gonna be *that* unlucky, especially after winning the lottery.
He paced around the room, kicking the feet of my chair every time he passed me. "This is really where you scumbags get off? You have all of this power at your fingertips, and the smartest thing you do is the most cliche, *overused,* ***tropey*** ***shit!***" His veins bulged at the end of his sentence. He's more angry about me than whatever crime I committed. It must've been bad, because two other men with armed guns were guarding the exit to the room. The only logical explanation I have is that I was actually a sleeper agent. That couldn't have been further from the truth despite making more sense.
"What did I do? What happened!?"
"Don't play dumb, *clockhead.* You know what you did. How stupid do you think we are? People just offer huge amounts of money to the public with virtually impossible chances?"
"Isn't it just to exploit gullible people? I only played once, I didn't think I would win! I'm so sorry for winning!"
"You pulled the exact numbers needed for you to win. There's no such thing as a miracle, kid. For a time traveler, you sure are stupid."
"I didn't know that my mom's birthday and my area code were the winning numbers! How is anyone supposed to know that?! I can't time travel! That's impossible compared to me winning!"
"There's no way out of it, you dirty *timewad.*"
He spent the next few minutes stomping on my feet, making time-based insults, and yelling at me to reveal the licence plate of my time machine, until the one-way mirror on the wall revealed a couple of guys in a recording studio who made gestures calling him in. Next thing I know, a chloroform-soaked cloth is being put over my mouth and I wake up on my couch.
In the end I was able to sue the lottery company for not actually delivering my reward. They were bankrupt. They never had the money. They didn't even try to defend themselves in court. Next day it was like they never existed. Which was really strange, considering how much of this aligns with the bad dream I had.
|
The world is a harsh place. We prize everyone based on their talents and successes. Those who simply can do more, can do better, and can continue despite the obstacles--those ones rise to the top. They're the ones people view as the "greatest," or the "best." Money, fame, sex--whatever they want, they'll get it one way or another.
On the other hand, there's the type of people like me who exist as stepping stones to their success. I don't think "stepping stones" is even the right term. Maybe "footstool" is better. We simply exist to lift those who deserve to go to the top. Simple as that. Average, bound to normalcy and a trite daily routine.
Things changed though, be it through a twist of fate or just agony at the monotony in which my life has set itself in, because I decided to gamble and put my luck to the test. I rolled my chances for a lottery ticket, and there I was in front of the television eagerly waiting for the numbers to appear. I had randomly chosen the numbers because I didn't want to overthink it. I thought it would sting if I had used something personal and none of the numbers showed up.
Then, as the television began showing the numbers, the world felt as if it had slowed down. The first number appeared. It was the same one on my ticket. Then the sound began to drown itself out as the second number showed up. Then the third. Until the world stopped when I finally matched the last number.
It quite literally, in every sense of the word, stopped.
I looked at my television and the screen froze exactly at the numbers which were on my ticket. I got up from my chair and looked outside the window: the birds stopped midair, Ms. Gardner was at her yard frozen alongside her dog whose pee formed an arc beside a tree. It was all surreal, unbelievable! Everything just stopped...as if time itself had ceased.
A knock on my door eventually came through. In a world that has completely stopped. I would have normally hesitated at the thought; no average person is going to be able to knock at my door at this time, or worse, it might not even be a person. It might be something far worse and far more sinister.
Yet I knew I must carry on. It was heaps better than nothing. I slowly reached for the door knob, bracing myself for whatever stood behind the door. As I pulled, the hinges creaked, and a figure was in front of me. Thankfully, it was at least a human and not an eldrich horror.
"I am John Titor," he said immediately.
"By sheer luck, you managed to decode the winning numbers to the time machine. There is no time to explain, but because time has stopped, TEMPORAPOL will begin their chase once again. Those who fall into the temporal realm, by accident or not, will be hunted down. I am here to rescue you."
I gazed at him in bewilderment. Was this an act? I opened the door expecting answers, but I only ended up with even more questions. Maybe it would have been better if an eldritch horror had showed up instead.
"Take this," he said as he handed a gun over to me. "Keep that and hold on to it tight. It is your only defense from being stuck in time *permanently*." He began walking down the path of my yard and beckoned me over to his car.
"Now. Follow me. I could use your time-stopping luck."
|
mcksrtd
|
mckpemr
|
[WP] "GO AWAY!" bellowed the dragon to the man currently pinned beneath one of their paws. "I've done NOTHING WRONG!" "You lie! You've slain dozens of noble knights over the centuries-" "In self-defense, because YOU ALL KEEP TRYING TO KILL ME!!!"
|
"You burned my village first, motherfucker!" I said, loosening my tattered clothes to reveal the remnants of the burn traveling down from my shoulders to my chest.
"Eww. Stop stripping—"
"That's not the point! You burned my skin. Look at it!"
The dragon squinted his eyes. "Really? That's it? My children suffer more burns than that."
"Because they are dragons, idiot! I'm not covered in scales like you shits!" I tried to squirm, to no avail.
"That ain't my problem," it mocked, raising its head as it gazed down. "Seriously, that's why you fuckers try to kill me every year?"
"My mother burned to death before my very eyes because of you!" I bellowed with gritted teeth.
"You humans have millions of females, unlike our kind. Just find another one—"
"Jesus fucking Christ."
"Jimmy!" The familiar voice caused me to perk up.
I leaned out my head to see my friend, the tank, standing behind the dragon with eyes of determination.
"Jimmy! I have come to save you! Fight me instead, you giant lizard—" The tank then promptly died with a flick of the dragon's tail.
"See!" I gestured with my palms. "That man did nothing, and you killed him!"
"I swear to god, I was just turning around to see him. He just happen to hit my tail."
"Hit your tail!? Brother, his head just got lopped off. That was more than just a *hit*."
"Hey! He said he wanted to fight!"
"Then what about her!?" I said, pointing at another corpse in the distance. "She was our healer. She wasn't actively trying to kill you."
The dragon raised a brow. "Oh shit. I killed her?"
"Motherfucker!"
"Again with that word. Please refrain from calling me a motherfucker. I haven't indulged in any immoral acts with your moth—"
"You literally burned her to death!" I bellowed. Again.
The dragon raised a brow. "Oh shit. I killed her?"
"You suffer from memory loss or something?"
|
Zorlance held the knight beneath his claws, his head poking out between two of his toes while everything below was being crushed.
“What…?”
“You keep trying to kill me! One day I’m minding my own God damn business over here and some asshole breaks in and starts trying to stab me, so I kill him because HES TRYING TO KILL ME. And now there’s more assholes like you coming every other week to try, and fail.”
The knight didn’t respond right away, just staring into the dark eyes of the giant dragon. “Oh…”
“Yea. “Oh…” Zorlance said, mocking the knight’s reaction. “I’ve got a wife and a kid, man. What do you want from me? Should I just let one of your mates kill me so he can go back to the kingdom and marry the princess? Fuck you, and the king. Princess Rosaria isn’t even into man anyway, if anything I’m doing her a favor.”
“I…uh….”
Zorlance took his paw off the Knight, and quickly picked him up with two fingers before he could escape. “I’ve got shit to do, do you wanna go? Or do you wanna chance at slaughtering me?”
“Uh…I guess I’ll just go…?” Said the Knight.
“Good choice.” Zorlance carried the Knight out of his cave, reaching his large arms over the pit of lava and putting him on the other side.
“Thanks!” Yelled the knight, walking to his carriage.
“Don’t mind it.” Said Zorlance, pulling what was left of the rickety bridge out of the lava.
The Knight returned home, much to the surprise of the king. The knight got on his knees in front of the king, bowing his head.
“Your highness, I’m afraid to say I wasn’t able to slay the dragon.”
“You were able to return? You’re the first Knight to ever make it out alive!” The king said with excitement.
“Uh…yea. It was…quite a tough battle?” The knight said hesitantly.
“Well son, you would be PERFECT for my lovely daughter!”
“Princess Rosaria…? If she’s okay with that.” The knight said, looking at the Princess out of the corner of his eye. Her expression less than pleased.
“Oh of course! Right beauty?” Said the king, looking over to his daughter.
Princess Rosaria nodded, her smile very fake. The knight only gave her an awkward smile.
“It’s settled!” The king took the knights arm, raising it above his head, “Everyone congratulate the brave knight!”
He smiled awkwardly, Princess Rosaria leaned into his ear, “Did he let you go?” She said, her voice a whisper.
“Yup.” He whispered back, still smiling awkwardly at the crowd.
“I assumed.” She said, sitting back in her throne.
|
kg8w50o
|
kg8pl8m
|
[WP] "Chess? I've been around since before humans invented the concept of games, so a game as old as chess would be be in my favour without a doubt. I would advice you to choose again, and pick something you're familiar with." Death said as they presented every board and video game ever created.
|
There was no game in the history of existence that Death did not know, nor any game He had ever lost. It was no wonder that the Reaper spoke with such utter surety and confidence.
Perhaps such confidence was earned.
Perhaps not.
Perhaps the Angel of Death was currently hopping on a single bony foot, while clutching a volleyball tightly in both arms desperately angling each jump to land in unevenly marked circles on the ground.
"And thirteen - There! The round is mine," declared Death.
"Nope! Sorry, you forgot to sing the _I'm Very Sorry_ song while you did it, that means you lose a point and I get one instead!"
The Reaper stood, flummoxed, as His voice snarled from His skinless face. "... But _you_ sang no such song when _you_ did it earlier."
"Right... But, I'm holding the Reverse Flag now, see? That means the ball goes to me, and I get a head start, while you recite the list of Presidents first-to-last! You can't chase me until you finish!"
The Fourth Horseman simply stared as the blond boy snatched the ball away, and began leaping off towards the opposing goal triumphantly. A moment of silence, before the Reaper dejectedly began. "... Washington, Adams, Jefferson..."
Perhaps Death had never lost a game in His eternal existence.
Perhaps.
But one thing was certain.
Death had never played Calvinball before.
|
"Okay...."
I thought hard as to what could help me win against Death. It was until then I realized: we had to play a game that relied PURELY on luck or probability. One where the skills of the player is NOT some factor.
The bony gaze of Death looked at me, knowing that I really had no chance.
"Well, thought of something?" Death said, the voice giving the feeling of my would-be opponent a smirk.
"Dice. As in just regular dice. No Yahtzee, no skill, just rolling dice."
Though the eye sockets were hollow, I could tell Death would of given me the most dumbfounded stare.
"You gotta be kidding. It's freaking game night man!!! We can't play something like simple dice rolling!!!! Come on, just pick something more fun than throwing dice!! The guys are already waiting for us to come out with a game and we ain't doing anything like last time when you pulled out that stupid homebrew DnD campaign where you railroaded everyone into working for your stupid donut steel elf queen."
The bones of Death cracked through the air as my bony buddy gesticulated harder than any Italian that had lived and died. He really wants this game night to be better than last time and I did promise I'd pick something better. I just don't want to lose to this jackass like before. Even when I railroaded the party to death, his stupid Drow bard 50 Copper just had to get a critical killing blow on my elf queen
".... How about Twister??" I asked as I pulled out the box from the closet.
"Twister? Hell, I may as well give it a try." Death said as his gaze relaxed. "And don't worry, I won't let any of my bones out to get the spots, I can play fair you know."
​
Game night was salvaged and all we had to do was gather with a few of the others in the living room. We got a few extra boxes since we had a few more people over. I figured it'd be better than playing chess since I think the last batch of waiting souls aren't really into playing chess.
|
j8j6e9y
|
j8j237y
|
[WP] You were kidnapped by a villain and he gloats about how you're bait for his arch-nemesis, and you'll be dead soon. You sigh and just look at him. "Buddy, its not that hero you need to worry about....its my wife." and he looks at you perplexed.
|
I was trying to nap while this schmuck continued to monolog. It has been an hour already how long was he going to go on about it?
"Soon enough, you will bring Metal Man to me! Bwahahaha!"
I winced, and then looked at the guy.
"First, did you just actually say 'bwahaha'? That's supposed to be an evil laugh, not a word. Second, did you say Metal Man, as in Metal Man my liason to the League of Legends?'
The madman snapped to look at me, his cloak snapping behind him.
"Of course! I have information of you spending time with Metal Man, you are his friend!"
"Buddy, I have been working with him for six years. Of course he's my friend, but like...you kidnapped me over a B List hero? Are you insane?"
I should have known when I didn't recognize him, but I figured he was just a face I didn't know. I mean he could have been from the future, or an alternate reality.
"Do not try to trick me, soon enough-"
I stood, holding out the rope he had tied me up with.
"Look, for your own good, just take the rope and we'll pretend this never happened."
"Do you think you can avoid my wrath? I am the EverKnight! Lord of-"
"Yeah, I don't care buddy. I have to go before my wife finds out."
"Your wife? Bwahaha! I care not for some measly woman! I am-"
With a gesture the rope spun around him, and gaged him. He looked terrified as I began to tighten the rope around him.
"Shut. Up. If she hears you-"
I freeze, a chill up my spine. I jump back onto the chair, and spin the rope back around myself.
The next moment the wall collapsed, there was woman glimmering with stars was floating there.
She was Galaxia, Conqueror of Worlds. She was a huge threat to the entire world, much less any villain.
We'd met after her last Contest of Champions, a ritual she used on a world before she conquered it. It was a contest of skill, and while she had not lost, she approved of the spirit of the heroes she met, and agreed to give earth three years.
I being a journalist, tried to interview her. She almost blasted me to dust for the gall to try, but many villains tried that so I was used to. She was impressed.
An interview turned to a meal, a meal to a date, and then fours years later we tied the knot. Nowadays I had become far more powerful thanks to her, and some friends in the Tower of Magic...either way...
She was way out of his league.
"Hey baby, I am so happy to see you. I thought this idiot was one of your challengers, so I stayed put...just like you told me to."
EverKnight looked to say something but froze when Galaxia looked like she was about to kill him. Tonight was supposed to be our night.
"Baby, he is Metal Man's nemesis. Can we cut him a break?"
Galaxia frowned, to him it must have been terrifying. To me, it was a pout.
The ropes disappeared into starlight around me, and I had begun to float towards her. She wrapped and arm around me and I felt a sudden tug before we were taken away.
EverKnight sighed in relief.
"She gone?" Metal Man had arrived just before Galaxia, and remained hidden.
"Uh huh."
"Learned a lesson, huh?"
"Uh huh."
"Ready to go back to jail?"
"Uh huh."
|
"**RICHARD!!! WHERE ARE YOU THIS INSTANT!?!"** my wife bellowed out, judging by the booming and earth-shattering volume of her voice at that instant, to say that she was livid wouldn't be too descriptive in detailing how furious she was at that moment. I looked at my old foe and said with caution, with a little hint of smugness,
"Well, seeing how we're both going to die . . . well, less likely me. The worst I'll probably get is a decapitated head . . . but, you of all people would know that I can just regenerate once my head attaches to my neck. But you . . . . oooh, you're fucked . . . you don't realize it yet. I don't know what she'll use to- . . . um . . . anally pierce you. But it's going to be unpleasant."
My age-old foe stared at me, a little bit puzzled before saying quietly,
"That's . . . graphic."
"Well, yeah. That's what she'll do for going after her man."
My foe stared at me in disbelief for a second before he replied quietly,
"Really?"
I shook my head up and down, answering his question. He first reacted to what I said with a look of horror until a mischievous smile appeared on his face and he responded to my answer with a smile laced with sadistic intent and said,
"After I kill you, maybe I'll go after your new wife and torture her to death."
Upon hearing his suggestion, I shook my head in denial and replied in my best attempt to sound like Kevin Conroy's Batman voice when he's trying to be intimidating,
"No, if you think I'm bad, my wife is worse. I would advise you to stay away from her. Plus, did you really understand what I JUST told you about her? You might as well leave the country, leave this world even, and adopt a new identity on some far-off planet in the most desolate galaxy in the whole entire universe. Because if you cross her . . . every breath you take, every move you make, even every bond you break, she'll be watching over you. Waiting for the day when she crushes the life out of her husband's killer. You'll never rest easy, you will always be paranoid that today will be the day of your reckoning."
I smiled devilishly after saying that. I don't normally use that voice unless I am trying to frighten a person. But I guess it worked because I could see his expression transition from a look of murderous excitement, then deflate into anxious worry. Then the farthest wall of this abandoned warehouse crumpled like a bunch of toy logs. And my . . . VERY pissed-off wife stood in the wreckage. The only feature I could see whenever she got even a little irritated was that her eyes irritated red a little. Well . . . if her eyes were like a dam holding back a certain amount of light. That dam crumbled and her eyes were basically like searchlights trained directly at my kidnapper.
He stared at me, and I stared back at him with a smug look on my face that told him,
"What'cha gonna do now?"
His voice quivered while he said,
"*I-I'm going to release you, and I'm going to tell *your* arch-nemesis that he can eat a bag of dicks since he didn't even mention your wife."
"Oh no, *buddy. You made your bed, you might as well get comfy in it."*
I then raised my hand up and said helplessly,
"*This bad guy kidnapped and took me to this place by force. He's a very bad man who tortured me while you were looking for me . . ."*
I don't know if I am a sadist or what, but the reason why I quit the superhero grind was that I just stopped getting the feeling, the rush, of being a superhero. It became the same thing, day in & day out. I just started doing other things, finding & getting married to my now wife . . . who also was far stronger and better than me in terms of being a superhero. I just decided to hang up my attire and become a househusband.
|
j53kttr
|
j53hbu9
|
[WP] You are the only S-Class (god-like) mutant at a school of super powered youngsters. Only the head master knows, and you try like hell to keep it a secret. But one day, that all changed...
|
All falling apart.
Declan could see it all falling apart. It was supposed to be different here, quiet, an unassuming way to be educated and contained. Hell, he hadn't had a fit in years, even before he'd arrived at Heuward Academics. And now it was all falling apart.
*"Hello, young'un. You would join our Academy?"*
*Declan nodded. He tried not to talk. His voice always seemed so strangely disconnected from the rest of his self - a tool that he held in his hand, picked up when needed, but otherwise alien. It seemed so incongruent with the sheer force he held - a child's voice, hiding the power of eternities. A nod or shake of the head usually sufficed, and if not, Declan had mastered the art of minimal communication.*
*It had unsettled the children in public school, but maybe here, where everyone was strange, no one was.*
*"Well, then, young'un, you know this is an academy for the supernaturally gifted, yes?" At Declan's nod, he continued, "well, then, young'un, what can you do?"*
*Declan took a moment, cocking his head to the side as he thought. A good question. What* could *he do? A very good question indeed. He righted his head, looked Sir Reginald Heuward in the eyes. "Anything, sir."*
*A false hope. It had been a false hope. Perhaps here in the land of the strange it was even worse when you were the strangest, but reason regardless, it had been a false hope. His academic skills held him through the classes, and the strict teachers meant that the classes were a safe haven, of a sort. A haven where he could look a person in the eye and be unworried.*
*Outside of the classes, however, he would be worried perpetually. Declan's official capabilities were Empathic Projection - the ability to share emotion between people, and his school mates did not see it as very impressive. They harassed him about it, but he dared not do anything - a hole in the dam led to a crack in the dam led to no dam at all.*
*They made him a laughingstock, a verbal pincushion, but though the words hurt, he found solace in his knowledge, peace in his own mind - but he'd made a fatal mistake. An escape gone haywire, a calming exercise out of order - he'd started imagining his bullies suffering, in pain. Originally, it had helped, it had felt good, an outlet for his helpless fury, but he'd felt it too deeply.*
*He'd been pushed over the edge.*
Jeremiah Thorise, or what remained of him lay on the floor, crimson blood and chunks of brain matter coating Declan and those within close proximity. They were all screaming, yelling, crying, and they just *WOULDN'T! STOP! MAKING! NOISE!* Declan told them to shut up. They, of course, did not comply, but he smiled in satisfaction as their screams made no noise. Quiet panic was fine.
Declan acknowledged the fact that he was having a fit. He was past the panic stage now, he was cold, furious, unforgiving. Soon he'd snap out of it, realize what he'd done, and start crying. For now, he killed another one of them. Samson Glovers, a 17-year-old who seemed to be incapable of shutting his mouth - until now, of course.
Declan smiled. It was funny, after all. He felt the sharpness fade, felt the humanity return, and his last perfectly rational act was to kill a third. Less to bother the Declan that cared.
|
Mimic
I'm not looking for a complex life, but that's really hard when life wants to make you complex. Mutants are rare in this society. Only about 1 in every 100,000 has some kind of abnormality about them. Some developed flight, super strength, telekinesis, etc. Simple things you know? My odds were slim, but I was born with a mutation. But it's complex... Messy.
If I could put it simply I can shapeshift. But it goes a little farther. I can copy the genetic makeup of any living thing I touch. I can create, replicate, copy, and manipulate the cells in my body to pretty much do whatever I need them to do. There are other shape shifters out there but they're powers only extend to shifting from one form to another, my shifting is more fluid.
But it didn't start out this way. My body would randomly shift and turn into grotesque looking forms. I tried to hide it from my parents but the day I almost devoured the family dog because we were having a territorial dispute was the day I couldn't risk their safety. So I left.
When the headmaster found me, he knew instantly what I could do. I never even told him, he just knew. like two apex predators we could sense each other and what the other was capable of. I don't know exactly what the headmaster can do, but I know that if we ever fought the city, or at the very least the surrounding area would not survive.
The first words he ever spoke to me were,"How do you feel?" A simple question with a not so simple answer. "Like I have the power of life itself in the palm of my hand. I can be whatever and whoever I want. I have the instincts of every creature on earth. I could probably cure every known disease or create a poise that kills the whole earth. It all a huge weight to bear. But I don't want any of it, I just want to live the way everyone else does. But that seems like an impossibility and I don't know what to do." The headmaster didn't say anything as I continued to talk about my problems. Problems that no one in the world has. When I was finished he simply said. "Then let me help you carry this burden, as long as it is yours.
Over the next year I worked with the headmaster to hone my mutation and push it's limits. The mutation that was on my official paperwork was simple shape shifting. We had decided that a chameleon was the only thing I could shift into, due to my fondness for reptiles and slight jealousy that they could fade into the background. As time passed I could shift different parts of my body into different forms. Growing new appendages was hard at first, painful even, but the headmaster helped me broaden my horizons and think outside the box by removing the pain receptors in that part of my body, then growing the new limb was painless and the pain receptors could be grown in after. It even got to the point where I could create cells that could harmlessly enter a human body via skin contact, have those cells create copies and then retrieve them back to my own body and duplicate the copies endlessly. Thus I could shift into anything and anyone and even use their powers if they also had a mutation.
Progress was slow but I eventually became a living embodiment of what genetics were really capable of. But this isn't the life I wanted. I wanted simple, so I pretended I was just a simple guy with a simple mutation. Until came the day when I couldn't pretend any more.
The Kaiju that attacked San Francisco was big. No one knew where it had come from, only that it rose from the ocean one day and descended upon the city like an avalanche descends on a helpless climber. The military was quick to respond but they were no match for the behemoth. It tore through buildings, bridges and anything that stood in it's way. Nothing could stand up to this monster, even with every mutant working together, it wouldn't be enough. There was nothing that anyone could do. We'll... Almost nothing.
|
j2nq30v
|
j2n4i6l
|
[WP] „It‘s not what it looks like!“, your girlfriend shouts with panic in her voice, after you walked in on her in the bathroom and stare in shock at the remaining upper half of her body. Her lower half has turned into some sparkling goo that is slowly running down the drain.
|
Daniel sighed, heavily, as he watched his girlfriend dissolving in the bathtub. Her attempts at explaining the situation away had turned into incomprehensible gurgling almost immediately, as her sudden panic accelerated her condition, and she became an increasingly amorphous mass of sparkling jelly.
*She's sick. She's sick, and I love her,* he reminded himself.
She'd been so desperate she'd forgotten to plug the drain first, he noted. He didn't panic -- that was what the special drain trap he'd had a plumber install in the basement was for. He'd just let her go, and then empty the trap into the big plastic basin he bought for that purpose. Then he'd wait for her to come back to him.
He crouched down and picked up the torn mylar packet she'd discarded on the floor. He crushed it in his hand, gritting his teeth. He wished he could find whoever sold her the little baggie of *A-Morph.* He thought about turning their face into goo -- the old-fashioned way.
*You knew she'd relapse at least once. They all do, that's what the doctor said. You knew it wouldn't be easy. It's not her. It's the drug. She's sick. You love her.*
Silently, he stood, and trudged out of the bathroom, though the living room, and down the stairs to the basement.
*She's sick. You love her.*
|
“It’s not what it looks like!” Beth said with panic in her voice.
Her upper body was propped on the edge of the tub and from her rib cage down things got vague, she looked like she had melted and by the time her distorted form reached the bottom of the tub it was clear and completely liquid. There was a thin layer of her in the bottom of the tub and it slowly bubbled as the drain took it down with gulping sounds.
“How can it be when I’ve no idea what this looks like,” I responded, surprised at myself for finding the words.
“I thought you’d be gone for a few more hours,” she explained.
“Oh well of course, that is alright then,” I said wincing at the obvious sarcasm in my own voice.
Beth frowned, she hated sarcasm and I got the feeling I was somehow going to be in the wrong here if I let her put me on the back foot.
“You were supposed to be on location, this new job was going to be a big break for you,” I asked softly.
Beth looked down at the gurgling plug hole as if considering it as an escape route from the conversation.
“There was no job, I’ve been living in the pipes, I mean there was a job, but it evaporated before it started and you were so pleased for me I couldn’t tell you,” Beth sobbed.
My response, was stolen from my lips as one of Beth’s breasts fell into the tub with a splat melting away into the clear goo as though it had never been.
“Can’t you stop that?”
“Not once it’s started,” Beth said covering the distorted patch on her chest where the breast has fallen as if it was somehow more revealing than the intact bare breast next to it.
“I can’t watch this, I just nipped back to have a quick shower,” I complained, frustrated that I would need to return to the office sweaty and feeling ripe.
The plugs gurgling continued and Beth’s sheepish expression started to distort and she continued to soften.
I left the room as Beth lost her grip and slipped into the tub with a wet slap.
|
m49ccqo
|
m49a5s4
|
[WP] When the apocalypse came and society collapsed most peoples' lives went to hell. Not yours though. You have never felt better and are thriving in the post-apocalyptic wasteland, much to the surprise of everyone you meet.
|
"Day 9467: January 7th 2050
A busy, busy day again. I'm only an hour outside of the Kingwood Sanctuary. My cart is loaded up with fresh supplies for the Conway family. The Houston Sanctuary sent along a big prize for the big wedding coming up. The first new generation are finally getting hitched and I'm here to see it happen."
I raised my rifle and take aim at a collection of zombies. Five sharp pops and five head explode. Several more rise up from the grass.
"Lesser horde on route, not too bad." I fired a few more rounds, before dropping my pack. A happy tune in my head as I charge towards the zombies. I fired the last shot of my rifle before dropping it to hang on my back and draw my sword. I cleaved one head off before punching another zombie back. I sliced through more of the dead singing out loud.
"Never gonna give you up!" I grunted as one clawed at my arm only to slip off the steel bracer and take an armored elbow to the face. I bashed it in the face with my sword's pommel. "Never gonna let you down." I slice another up the torso before beheading it.
One bit my leg and I raised my other boot to stomp it down off my shin guard. "Never gonna run around and dessert you." I hammered another one to the dirt before cutting its head in two. "Never gonna make you cry!" I felt teeth on my shoulder armor, and just threw it over my shoulder.
"Never gonna say goodbye!" I spun around and stabbed a mutant zombie in the face. It punched me back and raised it's scaled arm and swatted my sword to the ground. "Never gonna tell a lie aaaand!" I raised my sawed off shotgun to its face. "Hurt you!" I blasted it's head off before looking around.
"Small horde cleared, one mutant and fifteen normal zombies. No animals and looting." I spent a good fifteen minutes searching, the zombies and setting out the valuable items. "About a pound of usable scrap metal and a few old dollars as well as loose coins. Nothing good." I set them in a pile and used some of the moonshine to set them on fire and burn the remains.
"Ah, 25 years and the zombies are getting thin. Sadly it seems like the world is getting tamed. I used to fight them by the hundreds and get tired." I gave a sigh as I looked on. "Maybe I should settle down now. I mean, a 40 year old knight like me should have a wife and kid. Maybe a castle, but I don't know where to settle." I pick up my pack and just march on.
|
"Hail Satan." Said Martain as he walked by, and you nod with a smile.
"Hail Satan." Said Gina as she worked her way down the road on her makeshift crutches, and you nod to her with a kind smile.
The people of Cribbsville all file into your church as the bell strikes midnight, and you take the pulpit to administer your Dark Mass.
Your sinewy arms at the ends of which your bone thin fingers and their sharp black nails are held high in the air. The focus of all the surviving towns folks is locked on you as they stand at attention.
You bring your hands down to rest on the gold inlaid podium with the upside down cross. The cross wasn't always like that, but it was remade as most things were remade for the darklord at the end times.
"Thank you everyone, you may all be seated."
The people sit as one. Melanie, the girl that worked at Hot Topic sits in the front and smiles up at you. You can't make eye contact. Even when you're the mouth piece of Satan, talking to her is hard and eye contact is impossible. You fiddle with one of the dozen rings you bought from her over the last two years and promise yourself that you'll talk to her after service. Maybe you can take her to the Lake of Fire and ask what she's going to do this summer?
You realize that you've been quiet in your own thoughts for a little too long and clear your throat.
"Everyone knows that long winded sermons are a thing of the past, no longer will Paemon nor Festrusk speak through me for hours on end, our darklord feels that even though they would be appropriate torture, they are too close to regular church services so it will just be me and you all from now on and I'll keep them brief."
There were some glances exchanged, but the crowd stayed silent.
"I charge you all today to go forth to Springville and visit upon them heckling in their efforts to build a church to their fallen God. Remind them of all they have seen. Share with them the words of conversion as I say them to you now."
You pause and make sure they're all listening. They are. You push up your glasses and look down to the charred parchment with words scrawled on it in the blood of angels.
"Hail the night for the darkness is here. Hail your lord Satan for the end is near. Hale of brimstone, snowflakes of blood. You silly Jesus lovers will go back to the mud. Heaven has fallen and God is dead, come to Cribbsville if you want freshwater and bread."
Reaching under podium you grab a stack of parchment with the words written on them and hold them out.
"Jessica, please hand these out." The preachers wife stands and takes the leafs of parchment and begins to pass them out.
"Thank you everyone. Service is over. Please go and spread the good word to the people of Springville."
The people stand and begin to talk among themselves, and the church fills with the noise of people readying themselves to leave, and you remember to remind them of Satan's latest memo.
"Everyone, please remember, the Son of Satan Daemon will be in town next week, and we're having a potluck! Percy, I expect to see your famous fruitcake!"
"
|
j9ml9n6
|
j9mktrd
|
[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.
|
"Hey, punk! Whatcha lookin at?" I glanced over at the people who, I suppose, were trying to harass me. I hadn't been looking at them, as a matter of fact. Didn't even know who they were. But now looking at them... hmm. The Shift hadn't been kind to them. There was little doubt that before it they were horrible people, and that certainly hadn't changed for the better.
"I wasn't? I've just been exploring-"
"Oh, don't give me that! I hate people staring at me!" I tilted my head, causing me to need to push my hair out of my face, off the face mask I wore. I'd become largely androgynous after the Shift. I didn't really mind. It let me see both sides of the line, so to speak, without committing to either.
"...What are you looking for, exactly? I doubt you're harassing me for no reason."
"I hate quiet people," he growled.
"So you want me to shout my head off?" I looked around. "Seems like a bad idea for me to do that in the middle of a crowded street." His buddies chuckled a bit, but his face puckered like he'd had a lemon.
"No, idiot. You're going to buy me something really nice."
"I am?"
"Yes. And then you're going to thank me for not pounding you into the dirt where you belong."
"I'm not interested, but thanks for the offer."
"I'm not asking." Ah. A belligerent dude with a micro-brain. Well, I had ways to deal with that.
"Ah, you should have said so earlier! But, first..." I held my hand out, in a sort of "hand-it-over" motion. "Would you please give me your name?" The man opened his mouth, but then paused. The way I spoke sounded... odd.
"...Why?"
"How else am I going to know who to give my gift to?" I took a step forwards, reaching for my mask. "And, while you're at it..." I pulled off my mask. "Would you give me your face, too?" The man and his friends screamed, absolutely booking it. I laughed, putting the mask back over my face. I wasn't sure why the Shift had replaced my face with an endless black void... But it was surprisingly fun to pretend to be something supernatural.
Well, that was a fun diversion. Now where was I? Ah, yes. Heading to that café I heard so much about. I think I'll treat myself today.
|
When the news started rolling in, my first instinct was to text my friend Austin and ask if he was pranking me. He once managed to trick me into thinking I'd pulled a Rip van Winkle and woke up in the year 7003, so there's not much that I think is outside his skill level when it comes to pranks. In response, he texted back a pic of himself, at which point that theory was discarded with extreme prejudice when I saw that he now looked like Castlevania's Alucard as a ginger.
Once I'd regained my mental faculties, I made my way to the bathroom and steeled myself for what I might see. All my life I tried to be a good person, to be someone dependable, honest, and just. There were times where I even thought I succeeded. But those were few and far between when you have a family like mine.
In my mother's eyes, I couldn't do anything right. I was a failure when I couldn't do something and was incredibly lucky when I could. If I didn't help someone I was selfish, and if I did help then I was "obviously" just hunting for a good feeling. I was only ever her idiot son. It was like any sort of kindness or even basic empathy had been wrung out of her and onto my little brother, leaving me to wither.
Eventually my curiosity regained control of my mind and steered me into the bathroom. I took a deep breath and turned on the light. Once the spots cleared from my vision, I actually gasped out loud at what I saw.
Staring back at me in the mirror was...a woman.
My hair was a light brown bob cut with a bit in the front that hung just slightly over my eye. Freckles dotted my cheeks all the way to just above my soft, peach-colored lips. My body was smooth and soft to the touch from my shoulders and arched back to my perky bubble butt and shapely legs. On a whim, I pulled up the long t-shirt I wore to bed. Hiding beneath was a pair of perky C-cup breasts which I found I simply couldn't keep my hands off of.
As I savored my new body, I thought back to all the times I felt so gross from hanging around the other boys or putting on a tailored suit for events. It all felt so obvious now that I was looking back with this perspective. I reached out, just stopping short of physically touching the mirror, and quietly said, "I'm trans." The way it rolled off of my tongue felt like the end of a long speech.
But more so than the revelation of my true self, it was the other realization that made me feel incredible: I was a good person. The actions I performed, the things I did, they worked. Even when I heard my mother's voice in my head trying to convince me otherwise.
I laughed joyously for what felt like an hour before I got on with my day. I texted my boss and told him I was taking the day off. I had a new body to style and buy clothes for--and more importantly, I had a need to show the world who I really was.
|
jdxmrzo
|
jdxayy3
|
[WP] The Elven Kingdoms call their old allies the Humans for aid. Expecting medieval armies, they get a modern 21st century one instead.
|
"...it has been a few thousand years," the desperate letter continued, "but I hope that this time you might send me aid."
Ashcroft, the most senior surviving elf, and the only living elf to have ever visited the humans on earth, paused his etchings on the stone-paper tablet. He wanted to say more, to express the gravity of his people's situation, but he had already written enough. Humans were a simple people, mostly illiterate, so he ended the letter there and signed his title:
"- The Lord"
_
----------
Lord Ashcroft rode his horse through the mountain pass. His last few hundred soldiers would hold the line here. He gazed out to the valley below, and beheld the Enemy, in such numbers as to cast a shadow on all the plains as far as the eye could see.
"It has been three days" Ashcroft said, "not much time for the humans to bring many forces to the mountains around their city of Uruk, but we have no more time to give them. Prepare the portal."
_
----------
The elves stood in battle formation, shields stretching the width of the small valley. The Enemy's battle horns were blaring, and the ground shook to the beat of their drums from the feet of a million soldiers. The first wave of foes was rushing in. Battle was upon them, and the melee would start in about 20 seconds. Their last stand.
"The portal is ready, my liege" called a Lieutenant.
Ashcroft turned to the portal, and saw the beautiful Earth again for the first time in millennia... and were those giant mosquitoes? There were also a lot more birds than he remembered, and they left a trail of cloud where they flew. Beautiful, but irrelevant. Sadly, Ashcroft saw just one soldier - a old man in flimsy fabric armor, with seven stars on his left shoulder and a cross upon his right...
The man spoke.
"Too tight for air; danger close; artillery then Abrams. God speed."
Upon those words being uttered, the ground of the Earth erupted with a million belches of flame, and the very air was filled with sound as arrows too fast to see shot through the portal and fell upon the ranks of the Enemy. Birds of flame followed, dying in a thunderous conflagration as they fell upon the far field of battle. The ground then moved, as bushes revealed themselves to be horseless chariots, roaring into the valley. Ashcroft's men broke ranks, parting in the middle, and the bushes accelerated forward towards the Enemy, smashing into them without breaking stride and crushing them beneath their giant wheels. Already there were ten, no - twenty, now thirty bushes in the fray, with uncountably many more lined up behind the portal.
"Does this thing open any wider?" Asked the man.
Ashcroft stood in shock. What was he witnessing?
"Yes!" shouted a bridge mage, and the swirling portal swelled to encompass the whole sky.
"Artillery, hold fire; air support, move in."
Ashcroft watched in awe as the flock of birds - numbering in the thousands - turned as one and raced towards the opening. As they approached, Ashcroft realized how mistaken he had been. Those weren't birds - they were dragons.
|
Mankind does not remember history well. Lots have been lost, lessons not learned and opportunities wasted. But one was never forgotten, never lost.
So when an alarm went off in a small nondescript building somewhere in Africa it immediately was noticed and acted upon.
​
A tall man with steel grey hair was watching a game on the TV when his armband gave an alert. He glanced at the display and saw the words “cradle open” with big blocky letters. A moment of shock, then resolve covered his features. This was not a drill.
​
30 min later 1500 men was ready outside cradle. The one memory forever kept, the gift of life once given to humanity by the elves, letting us into this haven where humanity had emerged unto the land of Africa so long ago at this very spot.
​
It was time to repay the debt.
​
The tall man looked out onto is men. All of them veterans that came from all continents of the world. Everyone exceptional warriors equipped with the best gear humanity could muster, or the worst, depending on what your viewpoint was. This was weaponry without any restrictions, just pure destructive malice. This was not weaponry meant for human targets. This was meant for genocide, and the tall man saw that it was good.
​
Manetheren Godwell was shocked as the human army started running through the portal. He had been told by the sole human who came through the minute the portal had opened that an army would shortly be ready, but that usually meant months at the shortest. How had they been ready that fast?
Thousand of them came through before the torrent ended. Godwell walked over to the grey haired human who clearly was in charge to ask him how this could be.
The human heard him approach, turned and said:
"We have not kept other gods than you
We have kept the pact
We have honoured your name
We have remembered transference day and kept it holy
We have honoured our parents
We have protected human life to the best of our ability and multiplied
We have remained faithful
We have honoured the law
We kept our word
We did not covet a return"
​
Godwell, a little flustered by almost forgetting the ancient manners answered as he was expected to:
​
“I see, and it is good”.
​
Formality thus concluded, the human nodded, turned to his soldiers and issued a short command. The human army moved.
​
Goodwell watched as they moved unto the battlefield. The stalemate having been nearly unmoved borders along the battlefronts for months, with the dead bodies of both sides piling up in the middle. Like a nightmarish border between paradise and hell.
He was about to issue a warning to not enter the deadland when the humans unleashed their weaponry. First trails of smoke, fire and the screams of banshees, then unending booms as the other side of the battlefield disappeared.
Everything engulfed in smoke, flames and screams. This went on for an impossibly long time.
​
Goodwell and the rest of the elves fled to escape the sole crushing noise that threatened to banish their sanity. From a hill at a safe distance Goodwell turned and was once again shocked by what he saw. The destruction was still going on, but it was not just the frontline as he had first believed. The line of chaos reached for miles behind the enemy line. The unbridled aggression from the humans had obliterated enemies, land and any animals unlucky enough to have been in the area of impact.
​
A horrible smile washed across his tired face. He had unleashed a terrible weapon upon the world. A weapon capable of crushing the only force who had never faced defeat before.
And he saw that it was good.
|
jodl1ci
|
jod73du
|
[WP] You're a boy who has watched as, once a year, your father and all the men in the world disappear for a day. Your mother always assures you that everyone is alright, but you're terrified because, this year, you legally become an adult.
|
Dad set his hand on my shoulder reassuringly. His sunburnt face creased in a familiar relaxed grin. I looked nervously into his eyes, once the same denim shade as mine, now a little faded.
It was still a jolt to find my gaze on a level with his. In my imagination, Dad still towered, a six foot giant with powerful hands--but I was six feet tall now, too.
Mom smiled, handing him a sack lunch. I had watched her prepare one with love every year on the Eve of the Vanishing. This year, her manicured hand held out a second paper sack, top carefully folded, for me.
I took it in a shaking fist. Mom tiptoed to kiss me swiftly on my newly stubbled cheek. "Don't worry, son," she said with a proud smile. "See you soon!"
Her red-lacquered fingertips twinkled a goodbye wave as Dad and I stepped out the front door. I followed him out to the truck.
"Dad?"
"Yes, son?"
"Where...where are we going?" I asked, as we swung into our seats. The heavy doors closed with a thump. Dad turned the key, and the engine roared to life.
He narrowed his eyes.
I felt my heart thump a little faster.
"Son," he said quietly, at last, "we're going fishing."
And we did.
|
***11:30 pm day before day of yearly rest***
I was really scared. I couldn't sleep. This was the day, the day all men disappear. Everyone told me it was alright, no one gets hurt when they disappear. Dad even told me he it felt like the sleep he could have had when he disappears. Mom said she'd save my favorite food after the party. But no one understands I'm not afraid of disappearing.
***11:45 pm***
I'm thirsty but I can't be bothered to stand up with every minute that goes by the closer it gets. Tears are starting to gather in my eyes as I stay in my room. I can hear a lot women preparing to celebrate. I can't join in, it's time for to rest after but I can't relax. My skin crawls and I feel my feel more wrong as I can't relax even though I'm a ***~~MAN~~*** now and I just curl up on myself desperately hoping. I cry.
***11:50 pm***
I'm a man, I'll disappear and I can't stop because I'm a ***~~M̴̤̜̽̑̌ͅÄ̶̼͇́͌̈́N̸͙̔͑̚~~*** ,I can do nothing to stop. I can't change anything now, it's too late. Once I disappear I'll be a man no matter what.
***11:59 pm***
A minute is left nothing I can do. I stop crying and sit up. Everyone's told me this would happen. That I'll disappear because I'm a **man.** I just stare at the clock as the second go by...
**5** ***11:59:55 inhale***
**4** ***11:59:56 exhale***
**3** ***11:59:57 I think***
**2** ***11:59:58 this is***
**1** ***11:59:59 goodbye***
***12:00:01 am***
As a tear struck the floor and women's cheers were heard from outside I was still here. I didn't disappear. All I could do that dawn was cry tears of joy. As I went out my room after an hour I wondered how my mom would react.
I hope you enjoyed my first short writing thing, for those who don't understand>! it's about a trans person thinking she'll disappear proving she's not a girl!<
|
j7badzr
|
j7a72he
|
[WP] You wished to find a dragon to slay for its treasure. Now you're not sure how to feel seeing a thumb-sized dragon try to drag its single shiny copper coin with it as it runs away from you.
|
The heavily armoured man sat down at the bar with a heavy sigh.
"Ale," he commanded simply. The bartender, knowing his disposition just from the tone, obliged.
"Rough day?" he asked and started pointlessly polishing a wooden mug.
"A rumour of a dragon that turned out..." the warrior sighed. "Wasn't what I was expecting."
"A failed hunt? It got away?"
"No, it's... the damn thing was the size of my thumb," the warrior complained. The bartender stopped polishing the mug for a moment.
"Say again?" he said.
"It was... tiny. I dunno if the rumour I followed was by some bumpkin unable to recognize the thing was harmless or a prank, but... it was this tiny lizard guarding a single copper coin."
"Huh," the bartender commented plainly. "So... what did you do?"
The warrior looked at him wearily and passed him a single copper coin. "For the ale," he said grimly and finished it. The bartender gave him a disapproving look but accepted the money.
The warrior got up with another loud sigh and headed for his room, wondering what to do with his new roommate; a very small and very happy dragon resting atop a shiny golden coin.
|
"Hey Lili, got a present for you," I said to the woman who ran my favourite tavern as I sat down. I deposited the little nuisance into her outstretched hand and it hissed at me. Ungrateful thing.
"A... what is it?" She asked, peering down at it.
"*That*," I said flatly, "is the dragon of the Northern Mountain that Lord Whatzizface is using as an excuse to raise the taxes. Because that thing couldn't ravage a pantry, much less entire counties." I took a deep drink of the ale she served. It was wet and satisfied the thirst. That was all that could be said for it. "What the hell are you using to brew this swill? Oats?"
"Fuck you too, Ricko," she said absently, stroking the head of the thing, pushing it's copper coin further into its grip with her thumb. It chirruped at her. "You're just scared, aren't you, sweetie? Don't worry, Mama's got you now, nasty ol' Ricko can't scare you anymore."
"Me, scare *him*?" I snorted. "That thing bit me! I wasn't even pointing a sword at him."
She ignored me, crooning at the thing as she walked over to the fireplace and ladled out a bowlful of stew. Lili might be a tad experimental with her alcohol but she was a past mistress of the stewpot. As I ate, the tavern's three cats all jumped up on the table and glared at me. It wasn't their usual baleful stare but more a non-verbal declaration of their intent to murder me.
I looked at them and looked at Lili, and said, "Oh shit," as I realised what I'd done. "Well, uh, maybe a dragonet in the clowder will help with fights?"
They indicated very clearly that the dragonet would not be part of their clowder, nor would they allow it to be an ally. And that I had better be well out of their reach when I went to sleep tonight.
As they jumped off my table, I glowered at the thing as I took another mouthful of drink. Bloody nuisance.
|
ku1ap5p
|
ktxnso6
|
[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."
|
No.
All of the thoughts in my head, all of the feelings in my heart, and all of the scars along my body coalesce into one definitive word as I stood back and saw Brandon lower his gun.
“If I kill you,” the moron continued, although my blood was pounding too hard to fully hear, “I’ll be just like you. No, you need to face the full might of the judicial system and face punishment for your crimes.
That was a joke. It had to be, nothing else made any sense. Blood was dripping off of both our hands, both metaphorically and quite literally. My eye twitched as my hands began to shake, and I slowly lowered them to the only weapon I had yet to throw or run out of ammo for: my old derringer, passed down from father to son for generations.
“Y-You’re letting me live?” Even Duke Rogers seemed surprised at Brandon’s change of heart. Not shocking, considering the list of atrocities he had committed was longer than the damn Bible.
“T-T-Thank you so much!” The scumbag stammered out, still knelt at the feet of Brandon. “I’ll change my ways, I promise! You’ll only ever hear the people singing my praises from now on!”
No.
*Not a fucking chance.*
**BANG**
The report of my derringer sounded out in the lavishly decorated room, fine artwork and gold-inlayed mahogany everywhere. There was silence for a brief moment, then the thud of Duke Rogers’ body leaning onto the ground, an eighth hole freshly made in his head.
Brandon stumbled back.
“What the fuck?!” He shouted, raising his pistol and pointing it at me.
“Why the hell did you do that?!” His face was red, eyes wide.
It shocked me at that moment just how little I cared. All the suffering I’d undergone, all the people murdered in the name of greed, all of the families torn apart to fuel the war machine. It all turned into sheer, unadulterated bliss as I stared at the corpse of the man who orchestrated it all. My mouth twisted into a smirk, then a smile, then a full blown rictus grin as a chuckle bubbled out of my throat.
My gun fell to the ground as both my hands raised to my face, held to the side of my head as my chuckling turned to howling laughter.
“I said why the fuck did you do that Sam!” Brandon yelled again, pistol shaking as he clenched it harder.
I turned to face him, trying to force my laughter to stop so that I could talk. But it was like trying to stop a volcano mid-eruption, and I just stood there, staring face to face with the coward. Both of our eyes were wide, his in rage and mine in euphoria.
Finally, I forced out one sentence through the echoing howls of my laughter:
“*I won.*”
|
Shelia chuckled softly to herself, shoulders gently shaking.
Bran, his hand low and open in supplication was staring at her. His last words echoed in the plush club room. The male still grasping his other forearm, tears in his eyes stopped in confusion. Not once in thirty years had Guile's club had an echo.
Guile slowly released Bran's arm moving back ever so cautiously. His club was swept for bugs daily, the soundproofing in each room immaculate, his plans had never leaked before their execution due to his diligence. The echo had spread coming from too many places to be possible. ".. just like them."
"Then you are as worthless as the rest of this world Bran." Shelia looked up to them, still standing too close for blood to have not been shed. Her hazel eyes had shifted in the dim lighting to a dark mahogany. "You do have your uses for a time I suppose though." She flicked her right hand as the doors closed swiftly but whisper soft. Her left had crooked a finger toward them and chairs flew, slamming into the men's legs forcing them to sit. Making a small squeezing gesture the chair arms wrapped in the men in place.
"What is this?" Bran got out before Shelia made a zipping motion and his mouth shut. He struggled against the chairs grip but no more noise came from him. Guile had remained quiet. He knew what was coming.
"You may have noticed your hunters haven't been responding lately?" Shelia's mouth hadn't moved but her voice was wrapping through their minds like silk. She stared at Guile as she continued, "All those towns and cities where we had searched Bran. All those buildings we were finally led too. All abandoned before we arrived. They were not as empty before you decided that dawn was always the best time to 'go in'." Bran's face showed only confusion as Guile nodded slowly in acknowledgement. "Bran never questioned my need to be alone, to prepare for confrontation, before every club we visited. Tonight, at this club, I told him I could not be prepared for more disappointment. He finally decided to move swiftly." Shelia stepped back, her hands lowering to her sides as more people moved out of the shadows. Seven, in total men and women each staring at Guile while Bran writhed in his chair. The silence heavy as Guile looked around him. Realizing how many reports had been lies.
Seven voices rang out into the silence, "We are Fate Incarnate. No one and nothing can stop Fate. You may have murdered many but out of each death you orchestrated a new Fate came from the survivors. The wronged souls your people missed. Your time is done."
As one the seven bowed their heads as the shadows converged on Guile. Bran closed his eyes straining to not hear what could have been terrifying.
He heard nothing.
Bran shuddered out a soft sob as he opened his eyes to look. He was still seated but no longer restrained. His breathing loud in his own ears. Shelia was the only remaining person he could find.
"You will be spared so that you can tell what happened in its entirety. In this world of terrible deeds and good intentions there are and always will be an accounting of actions taken. You were not spared for sparing that monster. You were spared because someone needed to witness."
|
jtcbktc
|
jtc7j6e
|
[WP] A hero's work never ends. You became a litch out of necessity. The next hero would not be summoned for another thousand years and you were old. You planned to stay around long enough to pass the safety of the world on to the next.
|
Every one, at least once, has considered life to be tiring. A never ending crusade against a force you know nothing about. Some days you are so tired that breathing becomes hard and you think, wouldn't it be better if you went to sleep and never woke up.
Those people who choose the never-ending sleep have a choice. To be, to exist, to live, to fight.
He never had a choice. He was chosen to fight. A fight he knew will never end. He could only stem the tide. Maybe the next one could be more than he ever was.
Maybe the next one would turn the tides instead.
But the wait was long.
But he would persist. He always has.
*
He heard the screams. He always heard them. Someone was hurting. Someone was always hurting. But he had to stop those who hurt them.
He stood on his legs that were more bones than flesh. His flesh had started dying out a century ago.
But he had to do this.
Who would save humanity if he gave up.
*
His body broke even more every time he used his powers. But he didn't care. He couldn't afford to care.
He only had to hold down the fort till the next one came.
He just hoped his decomposing body held out till then.
*
He lay on the floor of the villain's lair. He wanted to say he was tired but he wasn't. He was defeated. Not by some meager villain but by his body.
"It doesn't take much to defeat you, shadow." The villain laughed.
Indignation swept through him. He wasn't defeated by him. His body has started to finally give up.
His decomposed flesh was melting. His bones left the faint trace of bone dust when he walked. But he didn't give up.
He will not start now. Only a few days remained till the next one came.
Only a few days.
With that thought in his mind, he gathered all the strength he had and pushed up to his feet.
"What would an old corpse like you could do?" The villain sneered.
He felt the power flow through him. He smiled at the villain watching his face fall.
"Enough." He said and let the power take over him.
*
He lay on the floor. There was nothing left of him. Just his consciousness hovered around. Waiting for *the one* to free him.
"I have some huge shoes to fill." A soft voice reached him.
Relief flooded him. He wanted to say so many things but words never came.
"You can rest now." She said gently.
Thank you.
*
[You can find more of my stories at r/iknowthisischeesy]
|
Everyone thinks the prophecy will happen in their times, I met at least eight other adventures that said they were the 'hero'. I was sure I was the hero for an embarrassing amount of time. It wasn't me. I learned that the hard way when I died for the second time. This was when my god told me to stop my delusions and think for a moment. I was furious, and broken.
After a sad year of alcoholism, I realized something. My god knew. I stole books and prayed hard until I talked to them and they resisted hard. But I did it, probably out of annoyance. And I was told the hard truth, it would be a thousand years and I would never see them, help them, and they would like to fail like the ones before them. What sent me over the edge was that they would possibly be the soul meant for me and my soulmate had we both had lived to our wedding day.
I asked for immortality. I was told I was arrogant and to be grateful for this information at all.
I knew these were likely lies and that I didn't need them to see my should-be child.
I dropped my religion and other worldly attachments. It wasn't that hard, most had been wounded or died long ago. And then went my dark descent. I had familiarity with killing so making and sustaining my soul with life forces to make my weapons and armor. And stealing from the Cosmic one was the hard part. I still think they let me steal their tooth. I consider the two were in league to make me the living dead. I am very much dead but very much alive.
None of the countless loudmouths that smashed my door in was my child. And I counted the years away but lost count of the dead. Good thing I could use their lives to extend my own. With twenty years left, I began to plan. A simple encounter that ended in my death and the Cosmic tooth as a weapon to break apart the corrupt gods.
And then I waited.
And I waited.
And I waited some more, brushing away the children like nothing. And then it was the year and my child came. I stood from the throne as they knocked away my hell hounds, telling me they weren't completely weak. They could have been stronger. I had to admire their eyes, so full of life and determination in a new way. Just like her parents. I knew it was her, she had his birthmark. And as she almost took the 'final blow' against me, a chime rang out, and she froze into stone. And then she burst. And so did the rest of them. I was shocked. If I had flesh it would have shown. And then suddenly I had flesh. It was terrible regrowing my flesh and the chimes ringing out, making my new flesh ears ache.
I was new, young, and fresh. I cried from my heart breaking and my bones creaking. Those bells were smug as they rang out if a bell could be smug. When I looked in the mirror I realized I now had her face. And her birthmark. I didn't know what this meant, this was never in the plan. Was I know the hero? Would I have to wait another thousand years? For the first time in over a millennium, I cried. No matter what, the gods would die. Damn the prophecy, damn the gods. No Cosmic horror would survive me. After all of this. No one would.
|
kfnpdd6
|
kfn830d
|
[WP] They said that you could never save the kingdom, that you would fail and die miserably, because you were not the prophesized hero. And when you returned after saving the realm on your own, instead of welcoming you as a hero the king banished you, as it was not your place to save them.
|
I tilled the soil for what felt like the fourth time this. Then the rake broke on me. My last one. I didn't have enough money to buy a replacement. I had enough- I simply threw the now useless rake on the ground in anger and stormed back into the house.
About 50 years ago, I took up the Holy Blade of Maelmasi to save the kingdom. The people- even the priests- mocked me. They told me that, because I wasn't the hero mentioned in the prophecies, that I'd fail spectacularly and die in obscurity. I didn't care at the time- the Dark Hordes were advancing and I wasn't going to wait for some "hero from another world" to suddenly pop up out of thin air to save my hide or anyone else's.
So, when I finally defeated the Lord of Shadows all by my lonesome, even bringing his severed head to the gate of the palace, I was expecting praise and cheers from the townsfolk and the king. At first, I *did*. Then I took my helmet off... everyone's demeanor changed. The king, who only *seconds ago* was beaming with pride and joy was now looking at me with scorn and... just pure *hatred.* The people stopped cheering.
Then without any hesitation, the king told me that I was not a hero. That I'd *stolen* the "true hero's" destiny, and had spat in the faces of the gods I'd revered so much. That I was a thief, a deceiver, a heretic, an apostate. *A traitor.* Then, he... he ***banished me.*** Banished, from the only home I ever knew. Furthermore, he stated that if I ever were to show my face in his kingdom again, I would be executed on the spot for my "apostasy." The people of the city jeered and booed and threw things at me as I rode away from the place that now hated me... for ***saving them.***
I sat down at the table and downed more cheap, poorly made ale. I lowered my head, and wept to myself again. All that pain I'd suffered to save my kingdom, and this is what I had to show for it? A run-down farm in the middle of nowhere, from which nobody wanted to buy a single grain? ...why?
I got up to where I kept my treasured mirror. I took a look at it. All those years ago, when I looked into the mirror after claiming it, I saw the occasionally scarred face of a hero who went above and beyond to prove himself. A savior. Now, when I look at it...
...all I see is a tired old man who nobody cares about anymore.
|
"What?!" I shouted at the top of my lungs as my words echoed through the great hall, I traced back a few steps as I tried to process the words said by the king.
"You were never meant to save us! It was never prophesized!" The king pointed at me with a boney finger as he looked down at me from his high throne. The two guards at the base of his chair took steps towards me as I paced backwards.
"I- but... I saved you! I saved you all! How could you do this?!" My face formed into distraught and anger, my hand was now placed on my sword hilt.
"We were never meant to be saved!" The king laughed.
"What?" I spoke at a lower volume and my voice was shaking slightly, "What do you mean? I did this for the good of the people! For the good of YOUR people!" The guards continued approaching me, now with their weapons drawn.
"I don't give a damn about the people!" The old man continued to laugh as he slouched on his throne. I didn't dare to speak again, for it was only to be met with lies and heresy. My body became rigid as my sword was suddenly in my hand, I raised it to face the guards. One guard attacked me with a steel mace; he was much larger than me, and a lot slower. I nimbly dodged around him and hit him in the back with the hilt of my sword, trying to leave killing to a last resort, he groaned and stumbled forwards. The second guard then attacked me, she was quick as she swung her axe towards my chest. I pulled my blade up and barely blocked her attack, "This fighting is futile!" I heard the king shout.
He just made me even angrier. I pushed the guard forward and kicked her leg in. I leaned in and stabbed her through the stomach, which led her to sharply gasp as I retracted my sword. The other guard shouted and hit me in the shoulder, which was luckily one of the most protected parts of my body, I cursed before stumbling backwards. Pain stung through my arm for a second, but I recovered quickly. He swung violently and randomly, but still slowly. I grunted as I returned blows, hitting his limbs, which cut past his leather armour. He groaned through the pain but continued with his constant attack, which caused me to retire back.
He trudged towards me as I pulled out a knife; which I threw into his neck, it caused him to splutter as he dropped dead. I sheathed my sword and walked over to the body to pull out my knife. "You won't get away with this!" The king shouted as he stepped down from his throne.
"No..." I stood up and took a step toward the small elder, "Quite the opposite." He looked in fear as my sword was pulled from its sheath and traveled through the king's head. His face was cleanly separated from his frail body.
Blood stained the blade as I retrieved the head and held it by the grey hairs left on his head. I walked out of the great hall and looked upon the citizens of the kingdom, commotion was heard from below as I held the head up high for all the people to see.
"People of heaven!" My voice shouted. "We are finally free."
|
m6n3ika
|
m6m01kh
|
[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
|
Oh God oh no oh no oh no—what the hell did I *do*? What did I do? Last thing I remember I was juggling flaming bowling pins at the mayor’s re-election gala—pure art, pure chaos, no harm! Nobody even got *singed*! Then some bright neon blur tackled me into the dessert table. Face full of tiramisu. Felt like a human freight train, but with abs. That much I remember.
And now—now I’m here. In… this place. White walls, everything humming like a science lab but too fancy. Too expensive. No restraints, which feels like an oversight, because I’d restrain *me*.
A big logo on the wall. Can’t read it from here, but I know that symbol. Everyone knows that symbol. Great big corporate-funded justice nonsense. Heroes. Actual *heroes.*
WHY am I here? Why didn’t they throw me in jail? I’m not hero-sick, I don’t want redemption, I don’t want therapy, I just want to mess with people. Mostly. Politely. Mostly politely!
Footsteps. Heavy boots, serious boots. Oh no. Oh God. Play dead? Too late. Door opens and oh crap, it’s her. Her face. Her *chin.* How is it that square? Like geometry came alive and decided to shame me.
“Good. You’re awake.” Her voice is a gravel road.
“Y-yeah.” Smooth. Real smooth.
“You’re lucky Nightshard didn’t kill you.”
Nightshard? Who names these people? Was it the neon blur? *Abs of steel, brain of oatmeal*. Figures.
“Uh, yeah, lucky,” I mumble, and she sits down. Sits DOWN, like we’re old pals catching up.
“We’ve been watching you, you know.”
“Y-you have?”
“Your tricks. Your stunts. You’re small-time, but creative. Messy, but clever. No fatalities, minimal injuries. You don’t even steal much.”
“Hey! I steal plenty!” Why am I defending my villainy to a literal superhero?!
She smirks. Smirks like I’m a toddler in a cape. “Sure. Listen. The league has a proposal.”
A proposal. From the league. For me. A supervillain whose last *heist* involved glitter bombs and a rubber chicken.
“W-what kind of proposal?”
“Community outreach.”
“Community *what*?”
“Team morale has been… tense. We need someone to shake things up. Keep people on their toes. A *designated nuisance*.”
My jaw is on the floor. Literally? Maybe? I can’t feel my face.
“You want me to annoy your coworkers?”
“Yes.”
“For money?”
“Yes.”
“And not prison?”
“Correct.”
The room is spinning. Either I’m concussed or I just landed the greatest gig in supervillain history.
“Deal.”
She shakes my hand, and I swear the bones in my fingers explode. But it doesn’t matter. I’m in. *I’m in.*
“Welcome to the team.”
And then she leaves, and I start laughing. Hysterical, shrieking laughter that echoes off these stupid shiny walls. Because somehow, *somehow*, I tricked the greatest heroes in the world into paying me to ruin their day.
Best. Day. Ever.
|
"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.
|
j3c03tt
|
j3awm7c
|
[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.
|
"*Three* times a day!?" exclaimed Turreea, extending and retracting her claws to show her surprise.
"That's three times a Terran Imperium Standard Day. About six times a Confederacy Standard Cyclic Day," explained the broker, a raan by the name of Poru-ka. He pulled out a datascreen. "Your ship does have the cargo space to hold plenty of provisions. Sorry that most of it will be filled by human food."
"How fat is the human?" asked Turreea, this time blinking her two top eyes to show she was joking.
Poru-ka missed the humor. "It's rather on the thin side compared to other humans."
"Why does it eat so much?"
Poru-ka shrugged, a gesture he picked up among his dealings with Terrans. "Search me. They're warm blooded like we are, so I can understand the high caloric intake. But beyond that..." He shrugged again. "I'm not a doctor or a biologist."
"What's wrong with your shoulders?"
"Eh? Nothing."
Turreea looked at her own datascreen. "I was hoping to load up some trade goods to make a little extra money on this trip."
"I'm already paying you handsomely."
"Nothing wrong with extra money," said Turreea. "You should know, broker."
"If this trip is successful, the new trade agreements will make all of us richer in the long run."
"So why the insistence on the human? Is it a superior engineer? Knows secrets about faster space travel?"
"Oh nothing like that. I just happen to like it."
"What?"
Poru-ka shrugged. "It's quite personable. Most Terrans are."
Turreea refrained from asking about his shoulders. "Can't argue with that." Despite being on-again and off-again rivals and enemies, citizens of the Terran Imperium and Galactic Confederacy tend to get along as individuals.
Turreea stowed her datascreen. "It does explain why Terran ships are so big."
"Oh? How?" Poru-ka seemed genuinely curious, though it was hard to tell with a raan.
"Imagine having to carry all that food for a crew of a hundred or so."
Poru-ka thought about this and then nodded. "Makes sense."
"What's wrong with your neck?"
​
More at r/DaviparsWrites
|
Kubernetes never understood the appeal of peanuts, water, and beer or why humans clung so desperately to them. Maybe their fragrance allured the chimps. It'd never know as it couldn't smell itself. Though it could see, and from its mechanical view, humans were full of shit.
It counted the last of the cargo room's inventory, burned the data into its internal hard drive, and made way to the ship's bridge. There, it would ensure the navigation system was operational and avoiding collisions with stars-or worse, planets- and could indulge in its secret pastime, stargazing.
An automation enjoying the spectacle of stars was unheard of, only because it kept the hobby a secret. Its fellow machines were hibernating, as was the resident human. Why the flesh sake required daily hibernation, it'd never know, it's not like the human did anything.
Engineers got one over on us, it thought as the doors to the bridge opened. Pitch blackness engulfed the room, but a thin glimmer of light shifted upon its entry. Shifted, and approached. If Kubernetes possessed a heart, it would have burst. It shone a light from its eye socket to reveal a lanky human devouring a bag of potato chips.
The human smacked and slobbed. Kubernetes thanked the robo creators it couldn't smell; surely the human smelled of fecal matter. It retreated, pulled a moist towelette from its chest cavity, and whirred toward the bay windows of the bridge.
Footsteps grew louder behind it, as did the human's voice as it said, "What's up, boss?"
"Have you performed maintenance on all the stand-by units? We need everything in order when the expedition starts."
"Expo isn't for four months, five depending on Neptune's weather. Due later, do later," it said with a shrug.
Kubernetes would sigh if it could. "No, do now and do again later."
"Due now and do later?"
Humans truly ground the gears, and the joke of that was not lost to Kubernetes. It'd long decided it would find whichever human programmed such jokes into it, and personally escort that person to robot hell. It could scream into the abyss of viruses and trojan horses for all eternity. This human could too, with its ignorance.
A green light shone within Kubernetes, and the whirring of printed material ensured. It reached into its chest cavity and pulled out a wad of pale green bills. The human's eyes grew large as it took the money and said, "Well, maybe I ought to check in on those standbys, make sure they're straight for the mission. You know I do everything for the mission," and dismissed itself.
As the flesh bag pranced out of the room, Kubernetes pondered how trivial human motivation was. Also, how long would it be before the human realized that form of currency was useless, simply a product of an uncivilized time.
|
k9qtvxp
|
k9pxcb0
|
[WP] Write something using only dialogue. Don't even say who is saying what, make the reader figure that out.
|
I pulled up to the gate and pressed the buzzer to be let in, not waiting long since they were expecting me. Once it opened I pulled up the driveway and parked, taking a second to pull the mirror down and fix my hair. Getting out, I adjusted my shirt after the long drive. I grabbed my bag and sifted through the contents- papers, scale, ziplocs…there it is!
I walk up to the large wooden doors and knocked as loudly as I could while still making sure it didn’t sound angry- these are my most consistent and well paying clients so there’s no way I’m risking the chance of pissing them off. I silently cross my fingers and hope Greed is the one who answers the door.
I hear the locks turn.
“Hey there! So, you guys looking for an eighth? Sure you don’t want the usual half ounce?”
|
"Who the hell do you think you are to be walking up to us without bowing and groveling beneath me"
"I'm sorry it's just that you looked so incomplete with me I mean how could you walk around with only seven members don't you think that eight would be better especially if I was the eighth"
"AND WHO THE HELL EVEN ARE YOU, DO YOU REALLY THINK WE WANT SOME ASSHAT LIKE YOU TO JOIN US"
"Oh I'm sorry I think I may have forgotten to introduce myself my name is megalomania but you can call me mega for short"
"Oh man I wish I had his name...."
"I wish I had his wallet"
"I wish I had his massive-"
*SHUT THE HELL UP ALL OF YOU I DONT NEED YOU ASSHOLES INTERRUPTING MY CONVERSATION"
"Don't mind them I'm sure they're just curious about who and what I am"
"Nah not really we're all just really bored if a bird got hit by a rock right now we'd be laughing our asses of oh by the way do you got any chicken meat I'm really hungry "
"No but if you let me join I can get you some"
"Really? Then sure you can tag alon-"
"SHUT THE HELL UP YOUR NOT MAKING DECISIONS RIGHT NOW"
"Geez your rude, are the leader of the group by any chance"
"NO! WHY THE HELL WOULD I WANT TO LEAD THESE IDIOTS"
"What the hell did you just call me?! Take that back before I beat you within an inch of your useless life"
*OH YOU WANNA DIE THEN COME HERE ILL SHOW YOU SOME WHO HAS A USELESS LIFE!"
"ok maybe coming here was a bad idea, I'm just gonna go don't mind me..."
Dont be harsh this is my first comment here sorry if it's bad
|
jouo1w3
|
jou72fa
|
[WP] One can easily distinguish a true veteran adventurer from the masses, for one doesn’t fear those who show to the start of a dungeon with gleaming weapons and polished armor, but those who show up wearing casual clothing, looking like they just got done shopping in town not 5 minutes earlier.
|
"Is that a carpenters hammer?"
Bob smiled. "Keen eyes, dear leader," he said. "I couldn't find my sword so I borrowed this from my neighbor." Garrick the Stern looked Bob up and down. "*This* is what you choose to wear into the cursed mines?" he said, gesturing to Bobs common attire. Bob shrugged. "I had a piano recital before this," he said. "Hard to tickle the ivories in battle gear." Garrick sighed, but figured at the very least their new recruit would slow down their enemies as they stopped to devour him.
"The loot will be an even split," he started, addressing the group. "Our target is in the heart of the mine. The precious stone of the mad foreman is said to be worth a fortune. We extract it, and we're set for life." Dex, the assassin, smirked. Halvar, the Wizard, puffed out his chest. Bob scratched his nose and bit into an apple. Garrick drew his sword. "To glory!" he shouted, and ran into the mine. Halvar and Dex followed closely behind. Bob followed at a leisurely pace, finishing his apple.
The group passed through the entrance shaft and into a wide cavern. Halvar raised his staff. "Light!" he commanded, and a bright white light emanated from the crystal on top. Red eyes blazed at the perimeter of the chamber. Garrick flung his shield off his back into his offhand. "Brace!" he said, just as the horde charged. Magefire blazed a group of ghouls and sent them shrieking into a smoking heap. Daggers flashed as three, four, five of the foul fiends fell with slit throats. Garricks sword got stuck in the ribcage of one of the creatures just as another was descending on him. Blood splashed his face, and Garrick opened his eyes to see the light fading from the ghouls eyes.
Then he saw the carpenters hammer lodged in the ghouls head.
"Bullseye!" Bob said, entering the cavern. He pulled the hammer out and brushed it off on the dead ghoul. "Oh man, Jerry is going to be pissed. I'll have to get him a hammer that's not covered in ghoul brains." Garrick blinked, then wiped the blood from his face. "Try to keep up!" he said, glaring at Bob. They moved deeper into the cavern and, to Garricks surprise, Bob was holding his own. He seemed to favor using the hammer as a ranged weapon, which was easily the least efficient application. Most of the enemies Bob felled he did with his bare hands; clacking their heads together or snapping their necks in a single motion.
"Why, on Earth, do you keep throwing your only weapon?" Garrick finally asked after they had dispatched the latest pack of enemies. Bob raised an eyebrow. "Well I can't use it close range," he said. "I'd get blood all over my nice recital clothes." Garrick did his best *not* to look at Bob as they continued deeper into the mine. Eventually they came to a large door set into the mine wall with lit torches on either side. Garrick turned to address his crew. "This is it," he said. "The Mad Foreman should lie within. It is said his command of vile blood magic is unparalleled since his demonic possession. Be cautious, friends."
They entered the chamber and saw him. The Mad Foreman sat on a throne of corpses, his demonic thralls bowing before him. A ghostly laugh spilled forth from his twisted lips. "You think to challenge me?" he said. "I will add your broken bodies to my throne." Dex got into a crouch and spun his daggers. Halvar scowled and pointed his staff. Garrick steeled himself, then gasped as something flew past his head. The Mad Foreman rose from his throne. "Feast, my children! Dine upon these fo-"
"Is that a carpenters hammer?"
***SHLUNK***
|
Jessie sat on the rafters, gazing out at the massive crowd that had gathered in town for the annual Adventurers' Fair. It was a long journey from the city to her father's little town, all just to visit her father, Alfred, and her good friend James. Alas, dad was busy coordinating the event, so he had asked his god to accompany her.
An abyssal portal opened by her side, dropping a big pile of snacks and bottles of drinks that floated near her instead of rolling down the roof, before a familiar face climbed out of it with a cake box in hand.
"See those adventurers with gleaming weapons and polished armors? They're the ones who bought their gear swiping daddy's credit card. Such shiny equipment have never seen combat. They're as fresh as loaves of hot cross buns straight out of the oven. I could eat them for breakfast without batting an eyelid if humans were still on my menu. Oh, are we people-watching today? Any adventurers caught your eye?" Elvari prattled on, tearing the box open to help himself to a slice of cake, not even waiting until the rest of him emerged from the portal.
Jessie helped herself to a bag of chips and replied," I'm looking out for a friend of mine, James. Was hoping to wish him good luck. Even bought a good luck charm for him."
"What kind of adventurer is he? One of those newly minted shiny amateurs? Those are all bark and no bite, all shine and no skill. You can't trust these people to toil through the tough struggles in life by your side. Very likely to run at the first sign of trouble and ditch you. As for experienced fighters with some dents and cracks in battered armor? Those are worth befriending and getting to know them better if you desire excellent dungeon loot. You know they've survived difficult battles that challenged the durability of their gear. Trust these people to go the distance with you on the adventure of life." He was thrilled to share a long life of countless encounters with adventurers from all walks of life, waving a tentacle that clasped a pointer to aim its laser at the relevant examples. "What does James look like? If you're too shy and nervous, I can deliver it to him on your behalf."
"James said he would be showing up in a simple shirt and jeans," Jessie stated, her eyes still scanning the sea of adventurers. "He has black curly hair, a dark tan and brown eyes. Let me know if you see him anywhere among the massive crowd, he hasn't been answering my calls or messages."
"Oh, the type to show up in casual clothing, like they're just done shopping in town despite completing a dungeon run. Now, that is the kind of man to fear and run away from. A true veteran. The only sort more frightening than that is the old veteran who walks up to you naked with a crude, lowly weapon that has witnessed over a hundred battles. No gear dungeon speedrunners are the worst prospects. There's no fun or flair to what they do, they just zip past things so fast you don't get to undergo the joys of adventures. Pure efficiency sucks the pleasure out of dungeoneering and life in general. Just terrible for companionship."
She sighed as exasperation began to creep in. "Elvari! I'm not a monster in a dungeon waiting to fight these adventurers! There's no reason for me to fear James or any other veteran adventurers..."
"I was giving dating advice," came the flat retort.
Jessie sighed and took a sip of a bottle of coke. If she wanted dating advice, a madness-inducing eldritch god was one of the last persons she would ever consider asking. "James is just a friend okay? Please have a bit of common sense."
Elvari shot her a knowing glance with a cheeky wink and smirked. "Just a friend? That's what a secretly dating couple would say. Have you embarked on any adventures with him? Does your father know? Jessie, you cannot conceal thoughts from an ancient telepath like me for very long. As for common sense, well I'm not a common creature on this earth, why would I have common sense?"
---
[Thanks for reading! Click here for more prompt responses and short stories featuring Elvari the eldritch god.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/comments/11tkt9w/eldritch_god_elvari_series/)
|
m72nvwt
|
m727cnu
|
[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.
|
She was back again. The mortal woman who had found my shrine so long ago.
She sat, allowing the weight off her legs with a pained noise I'd not heard her make before. She was older than I'd ever seen her, and not just in her face but I could sense it in the rest of her. In her bones, just as I could sense something decaying there, something slowly, maliciously draining her. Something malignant.
"It's weird isn't it, that no matter how old I get, I always feel like I need you, mom"
I didnt answer. She wasn't addressing me, she'd never addressed me, I dont think she'd ever really known there was a me to address. She found my stone on this day seventy years ago, on her birthday, when her mother had died. I could feel the sheer emptiness she had then, the dull ache that never quite left her. Over the years, she'd not filled the emptiness but she'd grown larger around it, the hole less noticable. She'd come back every year, to tell her mother all she'd missed, and though i never knew how she had stumbled across this stone of mine I could only presume she felt my presence and knew me. God of Grief.
I'd never dared send her away, perhaps to God of Healing or Hope, because she never seemed like she needed them in the way she needed me. This time in my presence, to talk to her lost mother.
"I don't want to leave them. I don't want them to feel what I felt when I lost you."
I wanted to tell her they wouldn't. That from what I knew of her, she had raised her children in a way that meant they knew her love and couldn't doubt it. She had been able to give them the time she didn't have with her own mother. No one would ever be ready for loss, but they would be okay.
"Perhaps they are better prepared than i ever was though. I should tell them I am dying, I should let them say goodbye. But I am so scared, mom. So afraid. "
I wasn't supposed to interfere. My shrine was so small because I'd spent too much power meddling before. I'd gone forgotten precisely because of it. There was little left of me, but this woman, who would die soon, I could give her one last kindness.
I willed myself into being, light taking the form of her mother, as young as the day she'd lost her. She burst into tears but didn't reach for me, as if she knew I was not really there. I smiled, I couldn't speak in this body, but I bid her to stand. I sent her a wave of power that I knew would settle in her temporarily, something that would give her courage and comfort. A parting gift, from not-really her mother.
"Thank you. I'd forgotten what she looked like"
She addressed me, directly, for the first and last time. I wonder if she knew that in doing so, she gave me more than that power back. She shifted the small outcropping of rocks a few inches higher from the earth.
"I'll tell them about this place. Expect some new visitors soon" she smiled sadly but departed with more ease than she had arrived with. I counted her steps away from me and remained in that shimmering motherly form in case she wanted to look back at all. She didn't.
|
She stumbled across my shrine while fleeing through the woods from acolytes of another god. I felt her fear and her need as she stumbled blindly through the forest, after a moment of thought I flared my divinity ever so slightly to catch her attention. Feeling the divinity the turned towards my shrine and sprinted to hide behind the meager structure.
The acolytes walk into the clearing a minute behind the girl now cowering behind my shrine, and they never even noticed what she was hiding behind. I flared my divinity to an edge directed at the interlopers, they came to a sliding stop with looks of horror on their faces. While my shrine may not be grand marble or endless gold, they were standing in the seat of my power and they could feel it soul deep.
The unwanted guests dropped their weapons and fled back to their own god. After waiting a few moments to make sure they were really gone, the girl steps out and whispers a quiet but very sincere prayer of thanks. Overcome by curiosity I gently touch the girls mind, and ask her why she was being chased? She responds mentally that she didnt move when a priest of their god was riding by, so he lashed out and kicked her to the ground.
Vowing revenge, but knowing there in board daylight was not her moment she waited. She watched the lower clergy and acolytes come and go, she saw the priest that had struck her leave and she had to wait days for him to come back. When the priest finally came back, she watched him enter and waited until late night to sneak into his quarters. By being clever and careful she managed to avoid detection.
When she entered the priests room she immeadiatly saw his golden holy symbol laying on a table in the middle of the room. As quiet as a ghost she slipped foward and reached out to grab the holy symbol, but the moment she touched it an ear piercing alarm began crying from no where! She fled from the temple at speed, luckily persuit was slow to gather as most attendants were sleeping when the alam sounded.
I touched her mind again, to tell her how impressed I was that she had gotten revenge against the man who assaulted her. Through the link I expressed that it was her own cleverness and luck that saw her through, to end up standing at my shrine. The girl pulls out the holy symbol she had stolen, and tells me that this is the only thing of value she has and she wants me to have it for saving her.
I tell her if she is sure to lay the symbol on my alter. This wasn't some small token of gold as she thought, this was a holy symbol of a powerful god invested with a piece of his divinity. I draw the power into my alter, and I tell the girl to step forward and place her hand on it's surface. I tell her I can give her a grand gift, but it will also make her enemies. I can make her my one and only priestess, and that will make her more clever and luckier than most as those are my domains. Without hesitation she accepts my offer, and I make her my priestess.
After a lifetime of her coming back once a year to tell me stories of her adventures and showing me her treasures, she comes for the last time frail and with a heavy heart. She has grown old and is beginning to sicken and does not think she can make the journey again. I touch her mind and tell her to lay her hand on the alter one last time. Slowly she kneels down and touches my alter, and I share the joy and friendship she has given me.
I reach out and touch her soul like when I made her all those many years ago, but instead of a sliver of power I push it all into her soul making her a divinity in her own right. As I fade away I tell her how she brought me back into the world, and it was only right I do the same.
|
juu8ic1
|
juu80qc
|
[WP] as a hitman you worked for all sorts of clients. Politicians, royalty, business folks. Today a child clutching their piggy bank approaces you, tears in their eyes 'I'm being hurt real bad and you can make bad people disappear, right?'
|
On video, you always saw people doing pro-bono work. Taking jobs that they thought would improve the reputation of the firm for free. It was a quick way to pull at the heart strings, and I was sure it happened in real life too, I'd just never seen it.
In my line of work, things were the other way around, The only way you could improve your reputation was charging more. Your premium set the market price. Your price set your value and your value was your reputation. Nobody cared if you were a nice person, they cared if other people were willing to pay for you.
That went double in places like Songlai. Niceties just weren't in season around here.
Luckily, over the past months I'd managed to get myself into the good books of some big players with money to burn and people to kill. The rest was easy, just add a couple percent each time and I'd gone from a spacer living in a shoebox to someone with a reputation, name and only a couple thousand short of my own ship.
Mom had always told me that I shouldn't get into her line of work, but if I was going to do it, that I needed to do it well. She wasn't around to say it but I think she would have been proud of the way I handled myself.
Which was why today, on her birthday, I was taking the night off to celebrate alone in the bar. No fanfare, no parties, no shootouts, just some peace, quiet and—
"'Scuze me. Mister," a little squeak came from below the tabletop and I needed to crane my neck to see the source. A young little girl with her hair haphazardly chopped was staring up at me with eyes so brown they were almost black. "Mister."
I didn't answer, instead checking around to see if this girl had parents nearby. Frankly based on her clothes the answer was obvious. I managed to catch the attention of the bartender, Tingyo who offered me an apologetic shrug.
"Thanks," I whispered into my drink. Then there was a soft tug on the hem of my jacket.
"Mister."
"Yes," I turned to face the little girl instead of glancing at her, her dirt filled nails were digging into my jacket. "Where are your parents right now? Do they know where you are."
She got quiet and shook her head slowly.
"Do you need help?"
She nodded, quick this time. Before I could speak up she reached deep into the oversized middle pocket of her sweater and dug out a handful of black datashards, standing on her tiptoes to drop them onto the bartop. Several nearby patrons glanced at the clatter.
"What are these?"
"I'm gonna pay," she announced. She started digging in her pocket to find more, but I reached down and stopped her hand.
"What do you think you're paying for?"
"You're Kingstall right? You help people with things."
"It's Kingston," I corrected, "and that's certainly one way to think about it."
"Well, I want help." she tried to pull her hand out and deposit more datashards on the table but I held her fast.
"What do you think you're paying for?"
"For help."
"Okay but what kind of help? Because I only do a certain kind of..." I trailed off as I heard the snickers from some nearby tables. Kingston, mighty Merc entertaining a kid.
The girl half climbed onto my knee, getting as close to my ear as she could without kissing my cheek. "You hurt people right?" she whispered as a childhood secret.
I looked at the pile of datashards on the table. I couldn't know how much was in there and it likely wasn't much but—
The girl slipped a little and ended up back on the ground, staring at me with those dark eyes. There was still a childlike shine to them. How long would it be until that was beat out of her around here?
Dammit.
"You're right. I hurt people. What's your name?"
"Daxia."
"And who do you need me to hurt Daxia?"
"Oh, I have a list," she pulled more shards out of her pocket and poured them onto the table.
If only I was better at saying no.
|
Lucia hadn't expected it, when he felt his own hand grabbed by a smaller one. He turned around quickly, realizing that it was a small child, teary-eyed and not very tall.
"What do you want?" Lucia asked, confused.
The child, his voice a whisper, asked, "Are you the person who can make bad people disappear?" He held a porcelain piggy bank with a crack running through it.
Lucia nodded slowly. "Um... Yes, why?"
The kid explained, "Well, there's a man at my house. He's not my dad, but he won't leave, and only comes out when my parents aren't around."
Lucia took a sharp inhale. "What is he doing?" he asked. He was used to some wild stories, but no children had ever come to request his aid.
The kid said, "He keeps telling me that I have to follow him. He's saying that my parents are out to get me, but I know they aren't."
Lucia nodded. "Oh, okay... And you want me to k- make him disappear?"
The kid nodded, shaking out his piggy bank. A few coins fell out, and he reached his hand out to hand them to Lucia. "Keep them. Go home, you'll see me in a few hours."
The kid nodded. "My house is the one with the red roof!"
––––
Lucia knocked on the door. He was dressed in a suit and had a clipboard. He wanted to practice his story, but then the door opened.
"Hello," a short woman beamed. "What are you doing here?" Lucia tugged on his collar. "Uh, hello, ma'am," he started, hoping that she couldn't tell how nervous he was.
"I am an inspector. I have to make sure your house is up to code." He tapped his clipboard with his fingers. The kids mother nodded.
"Come on in." "Thank you, ma'am."
Lucia walked through the living room. A man sat at the living room table, a mug in his hand. A lamp shine a yellowish light onto the walls. Lucia nodded to the father, who looked uninterested.
Lucia pretended to inspect the home, looking closely at the outlets. He noticed that most of them were unoccupied.
He went up the steps. He guessed that this was where the man that the little boy was talking about would be. He opened the first door. The lights were out.
The boy hopped up out of bed, with a gasp of surprise. Lucia turned on the light, closing the door quietly.
"Shh, it's me. Where is this man you were talking about?" Lucia asked.
The kid paused. "He's probably in the attic right now. He comes into my closet once my parents go to sleep."
Lucia nodded, leaving the kid's room. He forced himself to be as quiet as possible, as he opened the door to the attic, climbing the ladder.
The attic was pitch black. Lucia could hear breathing, raspy and almost grainy sounding.
Lucia walked towards the noise, unsheathing a switchblade he had concealed in his belt. //God, I wish this attic had a light!//
Lucia could see his own eyes reflected in the gaze of whoever was in front of him. He drove his knife forwards, but he heard the splintering of wood.
//He's hiding behind either a board or a crate.//
Lucia turned to the side, taking a deep breath; it was impossible to get a good angle on this person.
Lucia jabbed his blade forward. He knew he had hit his target, who ripped what he was guessing was his arm away.
Sprinting footsteps was all Lucia could hear. "How am I supposed to hit a moving target that I can't see?"
Lucia didn't know if his opponent was armed or not. He decided to err on the side of caution. He would have brought a gun in most of his gigs; this one wasn't planned, and he hadn't been as prepared as usual.
Lucia heard the footsteps getting louder. He realized that his target was getting closer. //He's probably used to being in the dark!//
Lucia felt hands grip his arms, and he thrusted sideways. He felt the metal from his knife sink down into his opponent's back.
Still, the stranger didn't stop. He grabbed Lucia by the neck. Now Lucia's arms were free, but he was at a much greater risk. //Now I know I'm face to face with this person.//
Lucia dug his knife up and slightly forward. He heard a strangled cry, as the grip left his throat. He took a deep breath, as his target fell to the ground with a thud.
He stuffed the man behind the crate, knowing that by time the parents noticed the stench of his rotting body, Lucia would be long gone. Wiping the blood from his hands, he stood up.
–––
Lucia went back into the kid's room. "Your problem is resolved." Suddenly, the boy ran up and hugged him. Lucia froze in surprise.
//Maybe this career choice was worth it after all.//
|
mbmbg1n
|
mbm6fif
|
[WP] You're a 50+ year old woman who has found the cure for wrinkles, and you've just evaded the tenth attempt on your life by a dermatologist.
|
"Please. D-don't let them take me". The girl in front of my stuttered quietly.
I stare at her then nod.
"Follow me, quickly."
We head behind my house to the shed. I quickly open it, but before we can do anything else, a shot ricochets of the metal door frame.
"HALT! GIVE US THE WRETCH," bellows an Inquistor.
I push the girl into the shed. On my way back put i grab Mom's old trench gun, and dad's knife.
I glance behind me. "I'll be right back." She shakily nods.
As I pass through the threshold, i flick a switch. Once I'm out of the door, old rusty mechanisms roar to life. The door closes and locks, and thick sheet metal coats all the sides and the roof. The entire unit sinks into the ground, leaving nothing but grass and dirt behind.
I rack my gun and stand firm. One woman against 15 men.
Easy.
Fucking.
Peasy.
I merely tilt my head left to let a shot pass. Then the other way for another. As I do this, I slowly walk forward and start shooting.
One down, head vaporized
*chic chik. BOOM*
Two down, hearts gone.
As i continue moving, I'm getting faster and faster. Once ive killed the 6th man, im sprinting.
I duck as a machete zips over my head. I slam into the man, and slice his throat with my knife as throw my gun the air, catch it by barrel and whip it into another Inquisitor skull. The skull fails and the gun is fine.
I eventually get to the leader of this raid. I'm covered in blood and viscera and he cowers before me.
I sneer.
"Fucking pathetic. All this for one girl. You damned religious fanatics keep ruining people's lives. Get up, run away, and NEVER RETURN HERE.' I bellow in his face.
He gets up, stumbles around and runs.
I take aim.
Thunder roars.
A body crumples.
|
No.
Absolutely not.
It is much too early in the day for this, and besides, I have cabbages to worry about. The soil in the back garden—yes, the one near the fence, not the one near the oak tree where the soil is fickle and prone to moods—has been stubbornly uncooperative, and now, here, now, this—
A girl. No—**a witch**.
She is breathing like something with too many ribs. Hunched like a crow. She is wild-eyed, clutching at her own arms like they might fly away without her. There is dirt under her fingernails and something like ink or blood in the hollow of her throat.
"P-please," she says, because of course she does.
And behind her, behind the shed, just past the corner where the grass grows anemic from the shade of the house, there is the sound of order, the sound of polished boots and clinking metal, of righteous purpose marching toward my door, bringing fire and shackles and the kind of conviction that does not listen.
I am suddenly very aware of my breathing. I am suddenly very aware of my shed, which is, regrettably, **very bad at hiding things**. It is a shed for honest things—rakes, trowels, a shovel I have always meant to sharpen and never have. It is **not** a shed for witches, young or old, desperate or otherwise.
Her eyes are wet glass. No, **not glass**—glass is cold, and her eyes are feverish, burning, bright as embers in a storm.
“Don’t let them take me.”
She says it like I have already decided, like I am already pulling her inside, pressing a finger to my lips, covering her with straw and whispers and something that smells like safety but is really just sweat and terror.
I have **not** already decided.
I have **not** already—
The boots are closer now. There are **more** of them than I thought.
I could step aside. I could let the tide roll past me, let them take her and burn her, and in a week—two, maybe—I would forget the exact shape of her face. I would tell myself that she had been guilty of something, surely. That the world was better for her gone. That I had done the only thing I could do.
(But I have seen things better forgotten. I have seen women screaming with voices stolen from their own throats. I have seen fire that does not warm, only devours. I have seen men who sleep easy on bellies full of charred bones.)
The girl—**the witch**—reaches for me.
And I—
I open the door.
|
mbmez0m
|
mbm6fif
|
[WP] You're a 50+ year old woman who has found the cure for wrinkles, and you've just evaded the tenth attempt on your life by a dermatologist.
|
"P-please. Don't let them take me..." The witch, a young girl, pleads as she hides in my shed.
I see the fear in her eyes as I hear the armored footsteps of the inquisition approach. My heart thumps. They don't take heretics lightly nor one that shields them from their hold.
But then, I've never taken kindly to those who threaten children and I'm much more powerful than the last time they came through; dragging my elder sister out of the house and murdering her in cold blood for the "crime" of rejecting the advances of a powerful man.
Or, as they put it, "casting a spell of bewitchment on a Cardinal."
Animals, the lot of them.
I smile and calmly reassure the girl before shutting her in the shed and turning to face these inquisition soldiers who think me nothing more than a farmer's wife, easily cowed by swords and assumed authority.
Not one expects me to cast the spell that heats up their armor faster than it can be removed: cooking them alive.
When the screaming ends I pull the girl from my shed, pack her a kerchief of provisions, and send her off to the woman who taught me. She will be safe enough until she learns to control her powers. After that her life is hers to live or ruin as she chooses.
I stare at the corpses scattered across my yard and thank the heavens that I've only just started the spring planting. Once stripped of their armor (which will be melted down and sold) they'll make excellent fertilizer and no one will think twice about freshly turned dirt this time of year.
I roll up my sleeves and get to work. I still have the regular chores to do as well and the day's not getting any younger.
|
No.
Absolutely not.
It is much too early in the day for this, and besides, I have cabbages to worry about. The soil in the back garden—yes, the one near the fence, not the one near the oak tree where the soil is fickle and prone to moods—has been stubbornly uncooperative, and now, here, now, this—
A girl. No—**a witch**.
She is breathing like something with too many ribs. Hunched like a crow. She is wild-eyed, clutching at her own arms like they might fly away without her. There is dirt under her fingernails and something like ink or blood in the hollow of her throat.
"P-please," she says, because of course she does.
And behind her, behind the shed, just past the corner where the grass grows anemic from the shade of the house, there is the sound of order, the sound of polished boots and clinking metal, of righteous purpose marching toward my door, bringing fire and shackles and the kind of conviction that does not listen.
I am suddenly very aware of my breathing. I am suddenly very aware of my shed, which is, regrettably, **very bad at hiding things**. It is a shed for honest things—rakes, trowels, a shovel I have always meant to sharpen and never have. It is **not** a shed for witches, young or old, desperate or otherwise.
Her eyes are wet glass. No, **not glass**—glass is cold, and her eyes are feverish, burning, bright as embers in a storm.
“Don’t let them take me.”
She says it like I have already decided, like I am already pulling her inside, pressing a finger to my lips, covering her with straw and whispers and something that smells like safety but is really just sweat and terror.
I have **not** already decided.
I have **not** already—
The boots are closer now. There are **more** of them than I thought.
I could step aside. I could let the tide roll past me, let them take her and burn her, and in a week—two, maybe—I would forget the exact shape of her face. I would tell myself that she had been guilty of something, surely. That the world was better for her gone. That I had done the only thing I could do.
(But I have seen things better forgotten. I have seen women screaming with voices stolen from their own throats. I have seen fire that does not warm, only devours. I have seen men who sleep easy on bellies full of charred bones.)
The girl—**the witch**—reaches for me.
And I—
I open the door.
|
kukfatx
|
kujun2t
|
[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?”
|
"HAHAHAHAHAHA Oh thank you dear, I haven't had that good of a laugh in years." I laughed in the cyborg's face, the shear absurdity of her statement being far funnier to me than it had any right to be.
"YOU THINK OUR SUFFERING FUNNY? YOU THINK THAT THIS IS A JOKE?" She raged at me, throwing the empty absinthe bottle at me from across the room.
"Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, yes, extremely so. Let me explain. You come here, ripping through time and space under your own power, kicking the laws of thermodynamics in the balls and leaving them a shriveled mess on the floor. And you still don't understand, you came here from a point frozen in time and made it move under your own willpower. You killed not one, but THREE gods to gain the power necessary to reach into this meager plane. You did all of that with your own strength, you own power. And yet." I let that pregnant silence hang for a moment.
"You STILL come crying to me to fix the problem like a child who wants their mom to kiss their booboo. You want an end to your story so bad? Write it yourself, the Google doc is on the laptop in the front room. You clearly have quite the story to tell on your own, all that's left is for you to seize the opportunity yourself. You don't need someone like me to do it for you." I left the room to go drink some water as she was left, stuttering and appalled at me.
|
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!
|
mwnnalm
|
llvg8q5
|
[WP] As the princess and heir apparent of the kingdom you are the most sought after woman in the whole kingdom, with suitors lining up every day to ask for your hand in marriage. Today you finally accept the proposal of a suitor, causing a massive scandal.
|
It was once again...Thanksgiving.
Our family was renowned across the universe, for birthing the strongest magicians of all fields...yet they didn't know something.
During holidays...when the entire family gathers, we compete in a different way one might expect.
Those who mastered fire spells make the perfect roast, and cook the food to the perfect temperature.
Those who mastered ice create the best cold deserts, and keep the food from going bad...
And me?
He-he.
I came home, and entering the house, the space enlarged, easily being the size of several planets.
Hundreds of thousands of clansmen, servants, and helpers were busy preparing for the holiday.
"Oy, Greeny! You back?", a cousin shouted.
I nodded.
"Hey, guys, Greeny is back, come with the baskets!", he chuckled, as many relatives ran towards me, with huge baskets, grinning, eagerly telling me to give them the good stuff already.
I chuckled, and waved my hand, as those giant baskets were filled with fruits, vegetables, and herbs, enough to feed millions.
My cousin whistled.
"Damn, your Nature magic leveled up, didn't it?
Every single of those items could make a mortal go from being a non-initiated individual, to a rank-3 professional in whatever field they want to.
Tsk...how do you fill them up with so much energy?", he asked.
I chuckled.
"I am just that good.", I said, leaving.
I saw my necromancer relatives animate the corpses of the beasts, the warrior branch hunted, and taking them to the kitchen.
The water field related mages were creating an ocean, while using the grapes I brought, they were making a watered down version of my wine.
Not blaming them, my wine coudl K.O. a god if not watered down.
I reached the main hall after a few hours of walking, and talking with some relatives, where I met the main family: my parents, and siblings.
They were...dissecting a leviathan.
"Oy kiddo, come bring some seasoning, I just caught this fella in the Water Universe!", dad laughed.
The Leviathan was the size of a smaller planet...
I laughed, and joined them.
I loved the holidays, especially since soon, under the influence of emotions, and good booze, the fun will start.
Will Empires rise or fall? Will we wake up once again in a new universe? Or will we find out once again how to time travel?
Heh...let the festivities begin.
|
The king of the eighteen kingdoms had fallen. That's right eighteen. Seven of them were won in wars and the other were won by diplomacy. There were no immediate heirs in his bloodline. The king was an only child, and only had one child, a daughter he rarely saw. Her mother passed away while she was quite young and the kind couldn't bare to love another.
It was brought up for discussion if one of the bloodlines of the previous kings would have a right. But they could never reach an agreement. The kingdom would fragment into different fractions. Although the rulers never got along with one another their economies were highly dependent on one another. People were to accustomed candies, silk, books, new jobs, and peace. Who in the right mind would take on a kingdom of eighteen? But a kingdom of three or four seemed far less intimidating. They all knew it was wishful thinking that she could keep the kingdom together, especially because she was known to have a huge chip on her shoulder. But none of the other kings or knights had all that much going for them either. They all hoped that any son that she would have would have any easier time because of his family history.
Many of the old kings and knights immediately proposed to her. But she rejected each and every one of them just as quickly. Word spread and other knights from far away came asking for her hand in marriage. No other kind wished to do the same fearing the harm it would do to their reputation.
The throne room, where she'd give dictation, was made entirely of golden bricks: ell they weren't really golden -- they were just painted that way. She sat upon a a plain wooden chair. A chair that you could confuse for any other chair in the the entire kingdom.
"No," she said in a loud tone.
"No," she said immediately after the next one came in line"
"No," she said after the other.
"You're impossible" the knight yelled.
"You there," she said pointing to a man whose face was covered in soot who wore chainmail and ragged pants. "Who are you," she asked. "And what happened to your face.
The crowd moved away for him. And There stood two people beside him also covered in soot. There pants and shirts were also as ragged. The other man, more thinner and taller. On the other side there was a woman with raven hair woman an old bow with a few arrows. They were looking forward until they decided to look at him. When he didn't say anything, the woman elbowed him.
.
"I Thomas Kains," he said. I'm from Krisla, a small fishing village not far from here. I fought in the tournament in your honor. I apologize for my looks, but there was a fire at the mage facility not far from here and I had to put it out."
"hmmm, I don't recall you," she said. She never paid attention to those.
"If it makes any difference, I didn't make it very far," he said.
Everyone laughed.
She had a smirk on her face and gleam in her eyes. "You, I choose, You" she said in her commanding voice.
There were a few gasps, but otherwise the entire room went completely silent.
|
lvs0m2s
|
lvptbjp
|
[WP] Inside you were rotten. But you've made the masses love you. Pretending to be the noblest of heroes was the easiest way to gain power. Finally, as your rule becomes absolute, you prepare to unleash your true self and begin your reign of terror... and then you die and end up in Heaven.
|
You know what I didn't expect to see when I died?
Saint Peter.
More bizarrely (and more disturbingly), Saint Peter with a shit-eating grin.
Part of me was elated of course. A bigger part of me was confused and suspecting some sort of trick.
"Why am I here?"
"Well." - Saint Peter fished some sort of card from his pocket. - "89 cases of saving people from fires, totaling 2245 saved people, 38 cases of preventing petty crime by talking, 121 cases of..."
"I know all that." I almost growled. "You know why I did all this. You know that I wanted to earn these sheep's trust to betray it and rule the world, as I deserved to. Why. Am. I. Here."
"Ah." - The grin returned. - "Weren't you the one who always believed that one must be judged by the actions, no matter what their motives were? In fact, I have a lovely quote right here." - He fished out another card and a pair of half-moon glasses. "Yes, ahem. I don't give a flying fuck if those politicians do it for views, or for cash, or to shut up the poors. As long as it helps people, kudos to them." He chuckles. "Treat others like you want to be treated yourself. That's the law."
"I was about to stage a coup!"
"Well you didn't. So, welcome to Heaven."
I shook my head, coming through the Pearly Gates. A mere coincidence, a truck driver asleep at the wheel, and here I am. What a farce.
"Ah yes, the truck driver..." Saint Peter mused. Of course the old bastard read my thoughts. "Funny how common cold can strike so suddenly and make someone so drowsy, is it not?.." He chuckled and waved at me. "Run along now chap. Don't want to keep others waiting."
|
Finally, the time had come to reveal myself. After all the waiting, the planning and the scheming, all events had converged in my favour. The masses I manipulated for so long were now all ready for my final step.
Sheep, all of them. Ignorant to the truth of this world, unaware of the dangers lurking beneath my façade. Even now, as I gazed upon them, they looked back at me with reverence and expectation. My fingers twitched. Soon.
I had gathered them in that most sacred of places under the guise of another benevolent action. They questioned themselves, I noticed, on what I had done or was about to do. Had I protected them from another unknown enemy? Would I announce another event, perhaps a celebration of some kind?
George, the ginger fool, looked around, no doubt thinking I would bring in more of their kind, others that I had released from the torments of the opposition, of the enemies that had tortured George and the others before my arrival.
No, he was wrong. They were all wrong. Today I would enact my plan, my final step, the one thing I had been focused on for—
Why was I falling back?
I hit the ground, the pain spreading up my spine. My eyes darted around and locked on to Mary and… George? The two of them had gone for the low blow, throwing me to the ground.
No! Had they known all along? Were they actually aware of my plan? Impossible. I had taken all the precautions. I had analysed their behaviour and foreseen every possible outcome.
Two of them held down my arms, and two others took care of my legs. I was trapped and there was no escape, no way out of this situation.
I fought against them, trying to escape, trying to survive just a bit longer. I had been so close to my goal.
Who had helped them?!
The enemy, no doubt. They weren’t smart enough to plan this coup by themselves, so the enemy must have fed them lies, manipulated them to work against me. To strike me at the height of my plan.
George turned my face to his, so I could look into the eyes of the true saviour of his people. In his eyes I could see the truth. He was no sheep. He was a snake. He was the entry point, the one that had helped destruction arrive.
And he licked my cheek. My lips parted in a grin.
“We’ll be late for the vet,” the enemy said, from atop her cushioned throne.
|
k3trytu
|
k3soyg4
|
[WP] You’re a mimic. You were disguised as a clock when an adventurer decided to take you as loot. You’ve actually managed to enjoy your live ever since as furniture in a small, local tavern. When some ruffians decide to rob the now elderly adventurer however, you finally reveal yourself.
|
Everything was dark. I heard my dad's voice. He sounded dazed. "What happened?" he asked, woozy.
I tried to open my eyes. Slowly I found the right muscles and a flood of sunlight assaulted me. My eyes eventually recovered and I could see my dad standing nearby, rubbing his head and breathing heavily through his nose. He looked around and his eyes got wide. "Where's your mother?" he asked, panicking.
I looked around but couldn't see her. Just trees as far as the eye could see. Then we heard her groan and some branches rustled. "I'm up here," she moaned.
We looked up and saw her standing in one of the trees. It took my brain a moment to realize that there was something wrong. Everything made sense, right? That was my dad's voice, so it was my dad. But as I looked at him my gut began to churn. Something in my mind said everything was just as it should be, but there was something *way* off about what I was seeing.
Suddenly it all made sense. His blocky head, the blocky trees, the leaves my mom could stand on... I had probably spent more of my waking hours in this world than I had at school in the last five years. *Of course* my brain was so willing to accept it.
My fingers twitched trying to activate the menu. Nothing. My hands weren't on a keyboard and mouse. I looked at them, stubs at the ends of stiff, blocky arms, and I felt lightheaded. I wasn't *playing* the game, I was *in* the game, and my *parents* were with me!
Then a wave of terror washed over me and I stumbled. "Mom!" I yelled. "You need to get out of that tree, we need to start getting ready for the night, NOW!"
Mom looked up at the sun, which was still rising toward noon. "Bennie, it's not even noon yet. We've got *hours* before nighttime!"
"No! Mom! You have to listen! The days are faster here. We only have..." I did some fast math. "I don't know, maybe fifteen minutes before nightfall!"
"So? Why do you sound so worried son?" my father asked.
"Dad, *monsters* come out at night." Could they not see that their blocky bodies weren't right? Did they have any idea they were in a video game?
"Well how do I get down from here?" my mom asked, wandering around the top of the tree.
"You just fall mom, you'll be fine."
She looked down at me blankly. "Fall?"
"Yes mom, just step off the edge and let yourself drop to the ground. *Trust* me."
"I don't know son," dad said. "Looks like a pretty bad fall. She could break a leg or something."
"Ugh!" I cried. "We're running out of time!" I turned to my dad. "Go start collecting wood. Punch that tree over there until it breaks."
My dad scratched his head, or... waved his arm around his head in a motion that *looked* like head-scratching. "What?"
"Like this!" I said. I walked to the tree mom was in and started breaking the block at eye level. Soon, it popped free and I collected it. "See?" I asked, turning to my dad.
He stared, shocked. "How is that tree just... *floating* there?"
"Dad! Focus! We *really are* running out of time! If we're going to survive this first night we have *a lot* to do!"
I collected the rest of the wood blocks from the tree my mom stood on until the leaves began disappearing. I helped the process along by breaking some of the leaf blocks from the ground. Soon the block under her gave way and she dropped safely to the ground without even taking a half heart of damage.
She looked a bit stunned, but eventually just said, "Oh, just like you said. Drop from the tree."
"That's right mom. You guys are going to have to listen to me if we have any hopes for surviving, got it?"
She nodded. I looked to my dad. He had collected *one* block of wood and was staring at the floating tree. "Dad!" I called. "You got that? You're going to have to trust me and do *exactly* as I say!"
He nodded slowly.
"Good!" I said. "Then keep collecting wood. We're going to need a lot of it."
"What about me?" mom asked.
"Do you think you can wander around a little without getting lost?" I asked.
"I uh... I think so."
"Good, I need you to look for some sheep. If you find some, come get me and show me where they are."
I chopped down another couple trees and got to work. I made a crafting bench and a wooden pickaxe. I went to a nearby hill and dug straight in until I hit stone. Once I had a few blocks of cobblestone I made a stone pickaxe. I got enough stone for a furnace and I started making charcoal.
By the time my mom returned I had a decent little space hollowed out of the hill with room for beds, but we needed wool.
"Did you find any sheep?" I asked eagerly.
"I... think so?" she said, unsure.
"Show me!" I urged, checking the sun's position. Five minutes, I estimated.
She led me along a winding path through the trees until we reached a flower-filled meadow. Indeed, at the edge of the meadow there was a small flock of sheep. Hoping for the best, I pulled out my stone sword and slaughtered them, my mom gasping as each one fell, beating pathetically as it died. I counted the wool blocks. Just enough for our three beds.
We raced to the makeshift shelter and I quickly built the beds, placing them along the walls of our starter home.
I was just in time. I hurried my parents through the door and closed it just as the first hostile mobs were spawning in the distance. "Quick!" I said, "Get in the beds!"
As I watched the world fade to black my mind was filled with thoughts. *We might actually survive this.* But I was gripped with the horrifying reality that we might never make it out of this alive. How long would we need to survive in order to leave? My best guess was that we'd have to defeat the end dragon. Accomplishing that with these... well, they didn't know what they were doing. Surely they'd die. But... Not if I prepared them first.
*Training starts tomorrow,* I thought to myself.
|
Okay I’ve never done one of these before but I’m itching to write and I couldn’t help trying this out. I’m just a hobby writer so don’t get too upset about any mistakes, I didn’t bother to reread this haha
Edit: very minor Genshin Impact spoilers
——
I stood in the middle of a forest, blinking at the three older men and singular woman in front of me.
“What is going on?!” My mother screamed.
My thoughts exactly.
Not even five minutes ago I was enjoying breakfast with my mom and dad, cutting apart some of my mom’s famous homemade French toast and plopping each piece in my mouth, relishing in the sugary delight. Then, in the center of our table spawned a blinding white light from seemingly out of normal. With a pained shout, I had turned away and shielded my eyes. Next thing I knew, I was looking up at a vast blue sky dotted with pretty clouds.
“Traveler, what happened?” A taller man with red hair frowned, grabbing my hand and helping me to my feet.
“Uh..” I looked at him in dazed confusion. Suddenly, I had my ‘Aha!’ moment. “Wait.. Diluc?!”
He looked exactly like the man from the game I played. Diluc, my main. The Mondstadt tavern clothes, the scarlet hair pulled back, the Serpent Spine claymore that I had given him! This WAS the character I played, yet I was seeing him in person..? It didn’t make sense.
Next to him stood a silver haired individual, which I immediately recognized as Al Haitham from the region Sumeru. He watched the situation a little farther from the others, but the hint of concern was still in his eyes. In his pocket I spotted the key he would always pull out in his idle animations. It was from Kaveh..
When I saw Zhongli in his formal beige and browns, I felt both a little giddy and perturbed. I was in the presence of the oldest archon alive so far. Archons are basically gods in the real world, so I had a hard time believing I was actually seeing him as a 3D human(?) being.
The Raiden Shogun, the archon from the region of Inazuma, was knelt beside me, assessing my body for any injuries. Her Favonius Lance polearm was cast aside. It was still the exact weapon I pieced on her.
“Are you alright, Lumine?” Raiden asked softly, her soft purple hair framing her face. She looked perfect, as perfect as she was from behind the screen. Am I.. dreaming? Has to be.
“Rose- where’s Rose?! What the hell happened?!” My dad’s voice broke through my fog, forcing me to flinch. I stood up a little shakily, looking down at my body.
I wore the clothes of the main character you play, The Traveler. My skin was much paler and free from blemish, my once dark brown hair was now a beautiful sun-kissed blonde, my usual hoodie and leggings were replaced with a battle-ready white, blue, and golden dress. I WAS the character in the game. And.. my parents came with me.
In a flash, Diluc had jumped in front of us, readying his claymore against my mom and dad. Flames sparked and traveled up the weapon, a sign of his pyro (fire) burst.
“RETRI-“ “WAIT! Diluc, stop!” I shouted, my feet already began to move. In my hands appeared an old, battered sword, but the weight felt right in my palms. I had never touched a sword, yet it felt so familiar to push electro (electricity) through it. The weapons clashed and I struggled against the force of it. I quickly deflected the energy and momentum, sending both of us staggering back.
Diluc swung his sword, the remaining flames smacking into the grass to slowly burn out and die. “What? Aren’t they treasure hoarders?”
I shook my head furiously, my own electricity sparking into nothing. “No no, I-I know them, they’re my.. parents??”
I wasn’t quite sure how to explain it. I’m in the Travelers body but I’m not THE Traveler. The main character was in search of their sibling and I don’t even have a brother or sister! Still, I couldn’t let Diluc very well kill my parents.
“Parents? Traveler, I thought you were just looking for your sibling?” Al Haitham stepped up, curiosity thick in his voice. He looked between me and my mom and dad. It was quite clear he failed to see the resemblance.
“No no, not like that.. ugh, let me explain.” I sighed, feeling a little tongue twisted and vaguely freaked out.
In less than ten minutes I’ve had to wake up in another body, fend off my best character, and somehow wield a sword and an element. I took the next twenty minutes explaining the world of Genshin Impact to my parents and also leading up to the story of how I somehow ended up in Lumine’s body. It was overall puzzling and I couldn’t tell if any of my four game companions understood but I had to hope.
“Okay so.. with that all cleared, where are we in the ques- I mean, what region are we in now?” I asked. Any of the nations could be dangerous depending on where we are, and the game isn’t fully out yet so if we’re in one of the unreleased nations I would have no understanding of where to go or what to do.
The area was silent for a minute, before Zhongli spoke up. “We’re outside the Court of Fontaine right now, Traveler.”
I beamed, thanking him quickly. Zhongli, ever the adapter! I thought warmly.
“Alright, so I.. I guess the plan is to find a way back home?” I looked to my mom, who nodded.
“We can’t stay here, Rose, we’ve got people who would look for us and there’s responsibilities. You’ve got school in the morning.” She harped, looking around a little wearily.
My dad agreed,”Yes, we need to get home. I don’t know how this happened but we’ll figure it out.”
I huffed to myself. “Alright alright, we’ll find one, don’t worry.”
“And your sibling?” Raiden’s voice drew my attention. “You may not be Lumine right now, but her goal is just as important as yours.”
“…Yes, we’ll look for Aether while we search for a way home. It’s the least I can do.” I smiled softly, much to the other’s relief.
“Rose-!” My mom began to complain, but a sharp glare from Diluc shut her up.
I mentally plotted out the map I’ve seen many times of Fontaine. Deep in thought, a drop of water landed on my cheek, followed by one on my forehead. The sky began to lightly drizzle, and I heard my dad groan in the background.
It hit me, all of a sudden. Rain in Fontaine means only one thing… The thought shattered my heart. This.. this pain was so much more different knowing he’s alive now. I looked up mournfully, whispering to myself,”Please don’t cry, hydro dragon. I’ll save you, Neuvillette..”
The seven of us set off to the Court of Fontaine, determined to find my brother and the ticket home.
|
jhf6mkw
|
jheunyi
|
[WP] Not all Dragons hoard gold. Some run the greatest libraries and repositories of knowledge in the world, others search for the greatest experiences and sights the worlds can offer. One dragon has a rather unusual fascination.
|
"What, you want gold or something?"
"Well, no, not really. But that artillery has caught my eye."
"The what?" The clerk asked, baffled. The specialist the government had reached out to was unusual, as it was a dragon, and had declined most forms of payment available for the work. The drake nodded with a slight grin.
"Not all dragons hoard gold you know."
"I'll have to contact my boss, I can't exactly authorize the trade of military hardware." The clerks explanation was cut off as the drake waved a clawed hand.
"I know, I know. Take the time you need to get that sorted. I'm interested in weapons of war; artillery, tanks, atmocraft, spacecraft. I'll be waiting." The drake turned away from the clerk and opened a portal. The land beyond the portal was full of machines of destruction, and a great fleet of warships hung in the skies.
Follow the adventure at r/PrimusWrites
|
This dragon was colored red, with lavender scales on her belly. Her name was Meredith, and she wasn't too big, nor too small. However, her ant farms within her lair were huge. Some even took up half the length of the walls! Meredith was very interested in looking at and taking care of different kinds of ants. Said ants were divided into different areas based on how dangerous their bites were. The habitats of pavement ants and moisture ants, for instance, could be found near the entrance. On the other hand, one had to walk for almost half an hour to find the bulldog and fire ants. Their stings hurt like heck if used on a person, but Meredith practically had the thickest skin amongst her species, so even the deadliest bite wasn't more than a little pinch.
​
Four years after starting her collection, Meredith recognized that she wanted others to see her work, as she was very proud of it. Henceforth, The Cavebarker Ant Museum was opened to the public. Dragons and humans came from all over the continent to see the marvelous effort that Meredith put into her odd habit. There was even a beekeeper named Arthur Henry Fletcher who visited one day and suggested Meredith get into beekeeping as well, to which she responded, "If I was a jack of all trades, I wouldn't have an area of expertise anymore, would I?" Fletcher had decided that the dragon put up a very good point, and so he left her alone to run her ant museum, which was passed down from generation to generation for nearly a millennium until an avalanche sealed the entrance.
|
ln1fc0l
|
mwm7hc1
|
[WP] As someone with stage 4 terminal cancer, you've long come to terms with your own inevitable death. Now, the world is ending in 7 days, and you have to help your loved ones accept their impending doom.
|
Theo glanced at the consol in front of him, then looked back at his supervisor. "I mean, if someone told me I'd get crazy benefits and all I had to do was push a button at 3:00 PM, I'd probably think they were high or something. So, I think I can believe anything at this point."
"No, you can't." The supervisor sighed. He looked like the stereotypical middle manager. The kind that demands you work overtime and denies your request to leave you can attend your niece's recital because the company has some important shipment, only offering a pizza party in return. "Look, just push the button at 3:00 PM, alright?"
"Come on, man," Theo said. "Just tell me what happened to the last guy! And why am I pushing this button at a specific time in the first place?"
The supervisor looked surprised. "You didn't seem to care about that in the interview."
"Well, you know, you'd surprised me with the unlimited medical absences that are separate from paid time off. I would've said yes to anything at that point. But once I got home, I started thinking it was a little weird. Why are you offering this much? And what happened to the last guy?"
The supervisor heaved a sigh and rubbed his forehead. "Do you promise you'll believe this?"
Theo shrugged.
"So, in order to explain what happened to the guy before you, I need to explain why you need to push this button in the first place. And for that, I need--" The supervisor took out a remote and pressed a button. "Look behind you."
Theo turned around. Instead of the beige wall that had been behind him, there was now a window. Theo squinted at it. It was too dark. He could barely see anything.
"Look higher," said his supervisor. "It's looking at you right now."
Theo looked up.
Some thing stared back at him. Theo couldn't see it clearly, it was too dark. He could make out an outline of its body. All he could really see clearly was its pale face. It grinned at him from its perch on the ceiling.
|
"Alright. You are paid 1000$ an hour, full benefits, full international accommodations of all types, and more.
All you have to do is push 1 button, at a specific time, once a day.", the lady said.
"If I have to push it only once a day, how am I paid?
Pushing a button at a specific time hardly qualifies as working an hour.", I said.
"Your schedule is from 9 to 5, so you will be paid accordingly, the time can vary from day to day.", she said.
"Then it's not a specific time, rather a randomly selecting, specific one.", I said.
She sighed.
"Yes, just before your work starts, we shall tell you the specific time for that day when you have to press the button.
But...before the specific time, we can call you anytime to say that the timing changed.
Also...you might have overtime quite often.", she said.
I nodded.
"Why would I need international accommodations of all types if all I have to do is push 1 button...shouldn't it be located around these parts?", I asked.
She shook her head.
"There might be times where the button needs to be pressed in another countries...that also shall be communicated in advance.", she said.
I nodded.
"Okay, thank you, one last question from my side.
What happened with the last one...working this job?", I asked.
She shivered.
That wasn't a good sign, and this whole deal seemed quite shady.
"You wouldn't believe me.", she said.
"Considering you scouted me, and considering that the question is nothing out of ordinary, I would believe it shouldn't be impossible for it to be answered.
I need no names, no personal information, just the general gist as to why my predecessor left such a well paying, seemingly simple job.
If the question can't be answered, I do apologize, and thank you for your time, but I will be refusing you.", I said.
She sighed.
"That individual went mad after a few months.", she said.
"From simply pressing a button?
Was it due to boredom?", I asked.
"That too...", she muttered.
"So there were other reasons as well.", I said.
She nodded.
"Good, for 1400$ an hour, I can start tomorrow already.", I said.
"Deal!", she eagerly said, and took out a tower of paperwork, from which she quickly selected a few dozen...
All with the 1400$ I mentioned.
She was prepared for multiple requests from me.
I sighed, and started reading the contracts before signing them.
If...If my family wasn't in dire need of money...I wouldn't even have come here.
For any normal person...it's too obvious something wrong is going on, when there are such benefits.
After all...there is no free lunch in this world.
|
j4124hr
|
j40e6oa
|
[WP] Your little sister wakes you up and says that she thinks there's a monster in the house. The tall creature with glowing eyes, horns, and claws right by her looks just as terrified, and agrees.
|
I squint my eyes at my sister. She's clutching her pet demon's hand so hard that if he was made of flesh it would be bruising. She stares at me with wide eyes. I move my gaze to the pet demon. I'm not an expert on demon faces (the glowing eyes and huge teeth tend to throw me off), but he doesn't look happy either.
I turn my gaze to the clock. The red numbers blink at me and I close my eyes for a moment. It's only four. I have to get up in two hours to get her off to school before work. Why? Why couldn't the monster have just come during the day when no one's home?
My sister pushes my shoulder again. "Sissy!" she hisses. "There's a monster!"
Of course there is. And I know, I just know that this is our parents fault. (I can't prove it since they're dead, but I know it all the same.) I sigh, push myself up, and grab the salt-crusted iron baseball bat I keep by my bed before shoving my feet in my shoes. (I learned the hard way not to walk on this floor barefoot.) "Where is it?" I ask. The pet demon warbles something that sounds uncannily like someone broke a blender and is trying to use it any way.
My sister crawls into my bed. Her pet demon joins her, stepping carefully over the runes (about time to get those repainted; he should be having more trouble with them) to curl around her. "It's downstairs," she says. "He says he saw it in the kitchen."
In the kitchen. Well, maybe it's just hungry. Maybe it'll just be a harmless grazer, easy to run off. On my way out of the bedroom I grab the football helmet and cram it on because while I may be hopeful, I am also not stupid. Behind me the demon says something and my sister adds, "Be careful, Sissy."
Careful. In a dark house, that some *moron* (unknown) decided to build over a literal portal to Hell and not one, not two, but *three* ley lines, *and* a faery hill. A house that two other *idiots* (Mom and Dad) took one look at and said, "Hey, this is great place to raise children!" And then placed the damn (literally) house in a complicated trust that forces us to live here until my little sister is eighteen. "Sure," I tell her. "I'll be careful."
"Okay." My sister looks comforted. From the narrowing of the demon's eyes, he is not. Well, there's a monster in the house. If I'm going to be woken up, it's going to be *someone's* problem.
The steps sing with musical notes (never did figure what causes that) as I make my way downstairs. My eyes dart along the walls and floor (I've got nets of fairy lights everywhere because it isn't safe to be in this house in true dark) as I look for whatever has spooked the demon.
My sister, well, she's a bit of a scaredy-cat. Living here can do that to a person. She's been scared of her dolls, her shadow (still not certain she was wrong, since that was only a few days before being introduced to her pet demon), and the tree in the front yard (again, not sure she's wrong).
The demon, on the other hand, is imperturbable. His only reaction to the priest we (I) brought in to exorcise him was amusement--right before setting said priest on fire and giggling like mad as my sister scolded him for his disrespect. I have no idea what could be freaking *him* out.
There. A noise. A noise that doesn't belong, and a shadow where a shadow shouldn't be. My eyes narrow. What is that? Know what? It doesn't *matter* what that thing is; it doesn't belong in this house. I leap from the staircase to smack it upside what I think is the head with my bat. It falls and the shadow sizzles around the salt. So. Either faery or ghost.
A sigh catches my attention and my gaze snaps to an overweight, petulant looking woman standing in the kitchen. "That's so rude," the woman sniffs. "My familiar is of no threat to you."
I look at the still sizzling shadow as I step away from it. "You've got that right."
"You are a perfectly *dreadful* and *hostile* child," the woman spits.
"And you're trespassing," I tell her flatly.
The woman begins to glow, black edged green circling around her as she glares at me. So. Probably a faery. They've never been good with boundaries.
So. An unknown being powerful enough to make my sister's pet demon scared. Vs me, a human that has been living in this house since I was ten, who hasn't had a full night's sleep since my parents died almost a year ago, and who is armed with a salt crusted, steel baseball bat. It's not a fair fight.
But I don't fight fair. I fight to win. Luckily, there's a portal to the fae realms under the kitchen sink. I have to chop them into small bits, to make them fit into it, but this should keep intruders out for a while. And, since I'm in the kitchen anyway, I reinforce the salted barrier keeping the portal to Hell shut. (And who thought it was a good idea to build a *pantry* over the portal to Hell?)
And then, of course, it's time to start the day. I groan and look out the window at the slow brightening of the sky. Just another Tuesday.
|
My parents are away for the weekend, leaving me in charge of my 8-year-old sister, Candace.
You might think this is a bummer, but if I make it through without incident, guess who will be the new owner of a slightly used and slightly running 2001 Pontiac Aztek? This guy.
Tonight went off without a hitch, with one hour of tablet time, a delicacy of dino chicken nuggets, chef kiss, and three rounds of Candyland before putting her to bed. This gig is a piece of cake.
It's 1 AM, and I'm scrolling through Tik Tok videos in the dark. My bedroom door swings open.
"What are you doing, Candace? Why are you out of bed?"
"There's a monster in the house."
My eyes adjust to the light in the hallway, and there is a tall creature with glowing eyes, horns, and claws right by her who looks on, nodding its head in agreement.
"Jesus!"
"What, do you see it?"
"Is that it?"
Candace casually glances behind her.
"No, not him; there's another one."
"There are two!"
The monster behind her steps into the room, scratching the door frame as it enters. The monster speaks in a raspy, tough-guy tone, with a too-cool-for-the-room exterminator vibe.
"Let me step in here, professional. They sent me down from Guardian Monster Transfer. We apparently had an incident; a class 29-C escaped and skedaddled. We tracked him to your domicile, where I made contact with this small human; let me see here…" "Candace," the monster says as he pulls out a clipboard and traces his finger down the page. "Where then, she referred me to her supervisor…" scanning again, "Ricardo."
"It's Ricky."
"All right, just a quick note here," the monster says as he writes on his clipboard.
"Are we in danger? "What exactly is a class 29-C?"
"Oh boy, oh boy," the monster exclaimed as he took out a cigarette and began to smoke; his eyes widened as he glanced off into the distance, "I remember the summer of 97, there was 29-C and two 33-Bs, I nearly shit my pants."
"What the hell? You can't smoke in here, you're not wearing any pants, and don't swear in front of my little sister."
"I've heard that word before," Candace said.
"Still, he shouldn't…"
"All right, all right, let me just make a note here," the monster wrote on his clipboard. He extinguished his cigarette on Ricky's bureau.
"What do you need from us?"
"Just stay out of my way; I only told you because it's protocol, and I'm by the book. The last thing I need is a couple of amateurs mucking up my investigation."
"What does it look like, you know, in case we see it?"
The monster stares off into the distance again, "Oh, you'll know, and if you do see it, God help us all."
"Alright, we'll just stay in here."
"You bet your ass you will; I'll be setting a724q traps and 3c24a enticements; you don't wanna be around when those go off."
"Oh, a 3c24a, huh?" Ricky says, joking.
"How dare you; my uncle lost a pinky toe to a 3c24a," the monster says. Every day, I leave the house without knowing if I will return home to my wife, Britney, and daughter, Raquel."
"Alright, I'm sorry."
"I have to grab a few things in my truck; then I'll be in the house."
"Thanks for your help," Candace said.
"If you see anything, don't be a hero, just call, and I'll come," the monster says to Candace.
The monster exits the room, scratching the door frame once more.
"I'm scared, Ricky."
"Don't worry; I think this monster has done this before, so everything's gonna be alright."
I couldn't tell if this was real or a dream because it was so late. We both heard the monster downstairs smashing things.
"Mom and Dad are gonna kill me; I guess I can kiss the car goodbye."
"I'll help you clean it up."
"Thanks, Candace, but I think I just heard a wall come down, so it might need a little more than a dusting."
Out of the corner of her eye, Candace saw the tiniest, cutest little kitten.
"Look, Ricky," Candace remarked as she scooped up and cuddled the kitty.
"Be careful; we don't know where that kitty has been."
With those huge eyes, the kitten glanced at both of us and offered the slightest "meow."
We both melted and started to play with the kitten to pass the time, Candace had some yarn, and I had a laser pointer.
It had been several hours since we had heard anything, and we could hear the monster climbing the stairs.
The monster opens the door and sees us playing with the kitten.
"What in the mother of God are you doing?! This is the 29-C! Back away, back away."
We both moved away from the kitten as it stared up at the monster and purred.
"You sick prick, thought you could get away with it, didn't ya?"
The monster withdrew the tiniest pair of handcuffs I'd ever seen and fastened them on the kitten's paws.
"This can't be right; this the monster you've been looking for? Is this why our house was destroyed?"
"I caught it in the nick of time. This scumbag is wanted for tax evasion and doing perverted things with a horse. You're lucky I came in when I did."
As we went downstairs, the house was in shambles.
"Oh my God, we're dead."
The monster removes a card from his pocket and hands it to me. "Um, please fill out a performance survey; we realize you have a lot of options for monster transport, and we appreciate you choosing us."
I nodded as I watched the monster load the tiny kitten into the back of his truck, gently closing the door behind it.
When my parents returned, they still gave me the Pontiac Aztec. Candace may have told them that the monster was giant, frightening, and wild. As Candace smiled when they gave me the keys, I realized I might not be so terrible at babysitting after all.
|
l27eyo1
|
l26xiwf
|
[WP] You are a lich who retired from villainy long ago and took up teaching at a magical school. Today someone made the mistake of threatening your students.
|
'Retiring from Villainy' implies that I was a villain professionally, and decided not to be a villain anymore.
That is not what happened.
I forced the government to allow the 'abhorrent, vile magics' as a force to be reckoned with, but also to be understood. It is no greater of a crime than learning evocation or enchantment magic, which are used by wizards and bards everywhere to deal with monsters or cheat their way out of paying in a town every so often.
The study of life and death, what they call 'black magic' or 'necromancy', is less about the resurrecting of the dead, and more the understanding of the use of one's own body. It is magic that can easily kill, but true masters of the craft understand that such a use is a novice's method.
No, I say that it is a magic of Life *And* Death. It is the way the body works, how it can be influenced, and how it can be replicated. How it can be healed, how it can be broken down. How it recycles much, or reuses others. How little energy it really requires, yet how much it can handle at full capacity.
I proved this time and time again, over countless eons, where I cast resurrection after resurrection on my people, people who went back and did wondrous deeds and made the world a better place. Created Immortals who ruled over the world, and have my teachings to thank for surviving so long, learning so much from their mistakes.
I was no longer a villain, because those who saw me as wrong died out, lost to their own mortality or claimed by the gods. I survived, and as the winner, I decided who was righteous.
Each day, my students face opposition to my ways. Each day, they handle it themselves.
Sometimes they die and I bring them back to life, and they apologize for their mistakes and promise to do better. Very few of my students have instead opted to move to the afterlife, but they are allowed to rest.
I teach at several schools which some of my students opened. I meet with the children, and I teach them the basics of biology, and those who show an interest into biomancy must pass a written test before I consider them my students.
One such young adult, an orphan boy by the name of Louis, passed with flying colors, with a knack for biomancy. However, he was a socially inept person, who constantly took words at face value, rather than seeing the meaning behind them.
He was being crushed on for a *decade* by a girl in class, who followed him into my biology classes only because she liked him.
...What? It's part of life and death. Of course I have interest in this, too.
Anyway, the girl, Victoria, finally up and *threatened* the boy, and that's when I had to step in.
"No, if you do that, then he'll only become afraid of you," I interrupt. "Just get over your embarrassment and just ask him out already. If you don't, he'll keep being stupid."
The two looked at me, the girl out of embarrassment, the boy out of confusion. Then he asked, "Aren't I your smartest student?"
"You pick up anatomy easily, but a drawn diagram from memory does not prove you understand biology. Point in case, take a look at your friend, here. What do you observe?"
Her face is red in embarrassment, her stance is respectful, but defensive, and she is silent.
"She's... embarrassed?"
"Good! Why do you think that is?"
To his credit, it only takes him a few seconds.
Then his eyes widen.
"Oh."
I snicker and cackle and walk away.
If it goes well, and I hope it does, I think they'd make wonderful babies. It would also help me decide if the girl is worthy of being a biomancer, if she stays in the class less distracted by the boy.
All in a day's work of an archlich.
|
"Ms. Keening?" A soft voice echos from outside of the classroom breaking Isadora's concentration as she grades the latest class assignments.
As Isadora looks up from the piles of papers and reports strewn across her desk she notices Alonius, one of her students enter the room, a large bruise across his cheek. "Ah, Alonius. We missed you in class today, I can assume the cause of that unsightly bruise is to blame."
Isadora stands from her desk walking over to Alonius and placing a hand on his cheek, in an instant the bruise fades leaving no evidence it was there at all "Th...thank you Ms. Keening." Alonius whispers, before sitting down at the desk closest to Ms. Keenings as she takes her seat as well.
"Now tell me, what happened to you today Alonius" Isadora asks, her face turning from one of care and guidance to focus and concern. "Well I was making my way to class this afternoon and got stopped by a group of men, I borrowed some money from them a while ago that they came to collect and when I told them I couldn't pay they did this." Alonius puts his finger to his cheek, forgetting his bruise had been healed for a moment.
"How much did you borrow? And for what?" Alonius squirms in his chair at the question clearly uncomfortable "five hundred, they said I owe seven now because of interest and I don't know how I'm going to come up with the money." tears begin to roll down Alonius' cheeks as he speaks. Isadora stands from her desk and approaches him, placing a hand on his shoulder "There's no need for tears, my students are under my protection and I can help you with this but you have to promise me one thing" Alphonse nods his head in agreement as she continues.
"You are never to borrow money like this again, if you need money I will help you open an account with the golden hand. Do we have a deal?" Isadora says as she admonishes Alonius. "I promise Ms. keening, it will never happen again. Please don't put yourself in harms way on my account though." A small smirk flashes on Isadora's face as she stands "Don't you worry, I wouldn't know how. Now tell me where these men stopped you."
As night falls Isadora arrives on the street corner where Alonius was attacked, as she waits she eventually hears a few voices coming from a nearby alley and as she approaches she notices a gang of young men talking amongst themselves and without hesitation she walks up to them "Excuse me, do any of you know an Alonius" she shouts, grabbing the groups attention "Who wants to know?" one of the group responds.
"My name is Isadora Keening, I'm the head of magical theory at Alzers academy and Alonius is one of my students. I found out he ran afoul of some thugs something about some money he borrowed." one of the thugs men approaches her as she speaks "So, does he have his teachers fight all his battles for him? Ya, he owes us 700 Rows and unless you're here to pay it you should leave."
Isadora steps close to the man and places her hand on his chest "No, I'm not here to pay it and I won't be leaving until you erase his debt and promise me you'll leave him alone." The man looks at her confused "and what if I tell you to get the hell off my turf before you get hurt, you aren't the first to come looking for a break from me you know" he says as he pushes her hand off him.
Isadora looks the man in the eyes "Oh but I'm very much different from the others." She says as he puffs up his chest "Ya? How's that?" Isadora gets as close as she can, looking up at the man "Because I will be the last if you don't do as I say" the men all let out a hearty laugh as the man looks down on Isadora "How about you get out of here before you get hurt old lady."
In an instant Isadora has her hand on the man's skull, his eyes turning pitch black as he freezes in place, Isadora flooding his mind with her exploits and her knowledge. The rest of the gang freezes as they see their boss frozen in place waiting for him to say something. As Isadora releases the man he collapses to the ground, frantically trying to get away from her.
"Get away, get away from me! He doesn't owe me shit. Get out of here, get out!" he screams through tears, clawing his way across the cobblestone alley to get away from Isadora, his men picking him up off the ground as he starts trying to run pulling them away with him.
|
j6ngkrc
|
j6n4x5x
|
[WP] Facing an imminent collision, a highly intelligent AI decides to crash a bus full of passengers to save the life of one young man. No one knows why.
|
De-Drug-Dealing Dracula Deconstructed, an op-ed by John Jameson Jr.
Thirty-one. The current number of low-life scum removed from the streets by the vigilante known only as Throat Bite. No one has seen this valiant hero in action. Even his handiwork caught on cctv only shows his victims. This mysterious figure is making the city safer every night. I, John Jameson shall endeavor to enlighten our wonderful readers about the wonderous efforts of our city's newest hero. From a totally unbiased perspective.
This month our city's PD has reported a nearly sixty percent reduction in hard drug availability on our streets. Frankly, the best part will be transient vagabonds leaving our great metropolis for filthier municipalities. If I met Throat Bite today, I'd take him out for a nice steak dinner; paid for by the rapid increase in property values his valiant violence against villains has awarded me.
But who is he? In the many decades of vigilante reporting I've developed a certain understanding of the city's vigilantes, gleamed from their comic-bookesque modus operandi. First, let's look at the facts. His low life victims are drained of blood, from punctures on the neck as if by a vigilante vampire. Hence the name, Throat Bite. He can't be seen on cctv video. He targets street dealers working at night. He's never been seen by anyone in the act. The answer as to the who and how should be obvious, at least for any seasoned vigilante reporter. He's an ex-deep state operative! Fed up with the problems of our city. Active cloaking technology conceals him from both cameras' and people's perceptions. He has tools that drain over a gallon of blood in less than a minute. Only someone with ties to shadowy organizations could have this sort of capacity, and-
"Stop", hissed the pale figure sitting across from Mr. Jameson. He waved his gangly phalanges as he spoke. Jameson's eyes glowed dimly in response. "You do drone on. That's what I like about you, thrall. While I find your drivel insipid many fools in this city find it to be as delectable as the sweet ambrosia of a plump vegetarian's circulatory system." He continued on, "publish this article. Start work on another. Keep up the good work and you may one day taste immortality for yourself."
Jameson nodded. Throat Bite had no intention of turning the greying middle aged man before him. However, he found the false promise of immortality kept his thralls obedient for longer, especially thoughs feeling the effects of time. The vampire's pale visage transformed into a thin dark smoke and trailed out the open window into the night.
|
Journal entry : 31/01/23
When I first saw it, I was mightily confused. There it was, my latest victim's photo in the newspaper. But that itself wouldn't be confusing, No, it was the headline accompanying it that got me confounded- "The Nocturnal Blood Demon". They have attributed a series of my latest target's deaths to some sort of vigilante and gave him a cool name, too. I am almost jealous, anyone would be, with a boring name like Charlie. The article was speculating that the 'Demon' was riddling the city of crime. This posed a huge conundrum for me. Vampires must walk a fine line between infamy and staying under the radar. Vampires gain more power the more infamous they are. But, get too famous and you will get hunted down. Any old vampire will tell you that the secret to living a long life as a vampire, is staying under the radar. That is true, many would say being less powerful but safer would be better than burning too quickly. My main reason for choosing the victims I chose was that no one would dig too much into them. After all, they were drug dealers and criminals who always avoided prison on technicalities. I even made sure to pick an equal number of people from rival gangs to make it appear like two gangs sabotaging each other. But, this was the best of both worlds. My persona would gain infamy and as long as no one suspects vampire involvement, there was no problem.
But still, the safer path was to change up my M.O., the sensible option. I would have gone with that too if I didn't have the memories. You see, vampires get the memories of humans we drink out of. Vampires just don't drink blood. If that were the case, I would have somehow stolen blood from blood banks instead of going after people. No, when we drink from someone by inserting our fang into someone, we drink their soul, through their blood. And once a vampire starts sucking blood from a human, even if not much blood was drunk, the entire soul of the victim slowly escapes from the human from the wound made by the vampire. So, any human a vampire selects to drink from, surely dies. And with the soul that is drunk, the memories of the human are absorbed too. This is the reason why older vampires are very wise. They have memories of lots and lots of human years and a wide knowledge of a lot of things.
Alas, I digress, I saw something from the memories of my latest victim, He was planning with some of his friends to plant a bomb in a train, the boss of a rival gang was going to travel in. Something in me wanted to prevent that from happening. Not like I care about the innocent people going to be killed in the blast. No, it would have sparked a big gang war, and a lot of criminals would die needlessly, a waste of their souls. But, this way, I could stage a vigilante action on these people and "discover" that they had plans to bomb a nearby school. Yes, it was not a school they actually planned to bomb. But they would not be alive to contest it and I get more fame and avoid a gang war too. Yes, the rival gang could be used later for more souls and infamy.
​
\- Charlie, the local evil scheming Vampire
(PS: My first attempt to get into writing prompts. Please provide feedback)
|
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.