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[WP] You are on a blind date that is going well...until their face literally falls off revealing that they are in fact a demon. Normally you would slay them on sight but like I said it's going well and you'd hate to spoil your first day off in awhile.
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Well…” I say, looking at the demon and then the mask before looking back at the demon sitting in front of me. “That’s certainly one way to truly break the ice,” I say as I sip my water, checking that my dagger is, in fact, hidden under my sleeve. You can never be sure these days, and this just proves it.
The demon looks at the mask, tilts his head back, and laughs, his long fangs glinting in the light, “That’s it?”
“Well, normally I would kill you on sight, but you’re in luck; it’s my day off.”
“Is that right?”
“Sure is, and with a face like that, I’d get a pretty penny.”
The grin he shoots back at me has my gut clenching. My goodness, they are sharp. I can’t even tell if he’s trying to be charming or menacing… at least I have my hidden dagger, which is probably why I'm seated so calmly.
He lifts his hands, which seem to have daggers for nails. “As flattering as that sounds, I rather like my head where it is; I wouldn’t want to deprive the world of my smile, you see.”
“A smile so bright it’s cleared the restaurants of its patrons.”
Again, that sharp grin appears. “All the more food for us, then.”
I knew I liked this date for a reason, plus it would be a shame to let all the food go to waste on account of him.
“So, where were we?” I ask.
He seems to blink slowly, processing that I am willing to go on with this date. Man, I really need a better social life if I am seriously contemplating continuing a date with a demon, but when else will I get an opportunity like this?
“You want to continue this date? You’re not terrified?” he asks. I can't tell if he's looking at me, as his eyes are pure black with small flecks in them that look a little like stars, so to be honest, I have no idea where he is looking.
“Oh, I’ve seen worse. No offence, but some of your kind really took the stuff of nightmares to heart, you know?”
“Funny, they say the same about your kind. Some of us tell our young ones about you to get them to behave. Your eyes seem to be an entity of their own.”
“How so?”
“Seeing them move around, watching them grow and shrink,” he shudders. “Don’t even get me started on how repulsive it is when you roll your eyes.”
My laughter escapes me. “Are you serious?”
“Very. That’s why I’ve struggled to meet your eyes, even with the mask.”
“Speaking of masks, what made you decide to do this? I thought I was meeting Tim from Haleston, not… well, not you.”
“Like you, it was my night off and I was curious about your kind. What are you like when we are not fighting each other? When I saw the mask for sale, I thought, what the hell? Worst comes to worst, I would have knocked you out and teleported out of here.”
Well, I’ll be.
“I guess we might as well make the most of it. As you said, there’s food waiting to be had.”
“I’d be delighted, but those long worms in the red sauce are all yours. How you people eat them is beyond me.”
|
"What happened? Your face is... Off."
"What with that lack of reaction?"
I had dated worse men, maybe dating a demon with a roach face is different... At this point I don't know if it is a good situation or a bad one, overall this date is going well, but I need to see how he changes after this...
"Why hide that you are a demon?"
"Humans don't like roaches... They even have more dislike for demon roaches..."
"Yes? A nice form of progress on this date, is there another lie I need to know?"
I ask with sarcasm, it is not that I hate INSEmen, some of them are super-centered and can be considered good partners in forming a family.
I would never date a man who got actually 50 girlfriends in less than 10 months.
"This is not my true body, my body is in the hell."
"I know, so you are gonna use that body for me and then return to hell? Typical."
Man must be a man... Even if it is a demon, I should not have high hopes for this situation, I already have 33 years to go running from place to place like when I was a twenty-year-old stupid young woman who fell in love with all those moves.
"You don't seem very fit for a partner actually, you came here without the intention of even forming a bond, why are you here Jessica?"
"What?"
What is this piece of roach saying?
"You don't know anything about me, but I want a true relationship, I'm tired of idiots like you that just come for my body... And don't talk about intentions to form a bond, you are using a fake body, instead of coming from the hell."
"Restrictions exist."
"Just excuses."
Great, first 'date' and we are already fighting.
After a long silence, the roach decides to talk to me...
"I'm actually a lowly demon of hell, I don't even receive wages for my work, this artificial body is bought, I'm too weak to create one, or to create a portal towards this world."
Well, at least this demon works...
"And you think I come here just to bother? Listen to me Jessica, I don't decide to come here because of mere fun."
Maybe I judged him badly...
"I could be punishing souls at this moment, winning hell stones to eat not hellish meat, but I bought this shit body that is even falling apart, to come here, and you are saying that I come for fun?"
"I never said fun-"
The demon interrupts me.
"You are suggesting it, Jessica... I'm not a young demon to don't know the wordplay that humans use."
"Sorry... It's my turn."
Since this demon is offended, I should narrate some of my history to him...
"My name is Jessica... I work in a store, my payment is a bit low... This is the first time I buy clothes in 2 months..."
I observe his reaction, the demon sighs...
"Right now I am... Alone, I already had a lot of relationships, bad ones, and good ones, but the bad ones always win, I was cheated, hit, and insulted, and I became accustomed to suffering... I stopped seeing a man for... 8 years... Until now."
"Sorry, don't worry, the bad ones will surely go to hell."
"Thanks, I hope you make their afterlife painful..."
The demon curtly nods... Then says.
"My name is not Rudolph... But Roianchild."
"Is a good, strange name."
"I belong to the hell, the naming sense is different."
The tension disappears... I can feel it... What now?
"How should we continue?"
Roianchild asks me... I have the choice, 3 choices to be more clear, end this and never contact again him, maintain a friendship, or start to try dating...
"Why don't we first become friends?"
"Fine... But you need to know that I can't always come to this plane."
"Good!.. Sorry... Now tell me, how is the life in hell?"
At least I made a friend... Things like dating can wait.
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jti2uqe
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jthm2qp
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[WP] Everyone on Earth wakes up with a number on their wrist indicating how many lives they've impacted. You, an unremarkable person working a mundane job, have a number exponentially higher than anyone else
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"How'd you do it? How'd you glitch your number so high?"
"I..I didn't." I stammer at the menacing thug, known only as Nombro.
The numbers on our wrists indicate 'lives impacted' for better or, as in Nombro's, for worse.
"You know why they call me Nombro?" I shake my head a little
"Because I. AM. THE. NUMBER! I have the highest known number in our city. No one even comes close. Then you waltz in, with your number zooming up by the second."
He holds out his wrist, then grabs mine. His numbers are a dark red, almost black. The number is impossibly high, and stable, at 140,703. Even the font oozes menace. Mine is much lighter, but clearly visible, in a more rounded font, like comic sans. Mine is constantly ticking higher. Currently at 11,545,461 and counting.
"One million five hundred thousand"
I don't point out the missed number.
"Do you know what I've done to *earn* my number? The next closest hasn't even broken 100,000. What do you do? You a doctor, nurse, researcher? Why it it still going up?"
I shake my head.
"Like you say it's a glitch. I just don't know what caused it. It was all normal until last year. I had a couple of hundred, and I was quite proud of it. When it suddenly went up, and kept going up. In answer to your question about my job, I'm only an administration assistant at a small electrical component manufacturer. We mostly do parts for the automotive industry. One of our parts is now used in most brands of cars made all around the world." I sense he's about to interrupt. "BUT other than proof reading documents, I had literally nothing to do with designing, creating, or building that part. I promise, no one else will ever know about my...glitch. It's a mistake."
Nombro leans back, releasing my wrist.
"Did you ever save anyone's life?"
"Yes... Well sort of. A guy that worked at my company, he... I stopped him from jumping off the roof... the first time.... not the second. And" I added hopefully "I'm a blood donor. That might of saved a few lives, but the rest is a glitch. I'll be more careful about covering it with make up or my watch band."
"Or" Nombro said as he played with a hunting knife, twirling it casually in his fingers
"I could kill you, resume my title as *THE* number"
"Sure, sure" I said. Thinking quickly and trying to suppress my panic. "What if it's not a glitch? What if eleven million people descend on you to seek revenge. My number has a positive glow, a positive impact. So sure, you could kill me and hope that it's all fine, but even if ten per cent of *my people* that I've 'greatly impacted' come to find you, you're done for. Or, perhaps I could be a great ally to you, but you can have the glory of the title. "
Nombro weighed up the options, and I hoped that that the next person I positively impacted would be him.
|
The night that upended the world. Mostly, just the entertainment world. It took a few months for the right minds to get theories up, and then a year or two to confirm said theories. How many people’s you’ve significantly affected, for good or ill, suddenly shows up on people’s wrists. A blue, undulating ichor shifts slowly, live, as we change others.
Celebrities were born as those with huge numbers can boast and make their own shows.
“How to make a positive impact on the World.”
“The trends of a Philantropist.”
“From Doubles to Triples and Beyond!”
Even in this cafe in the middle of the town, the TV shows the current “Impact” celebrities. My coffee is nice and my company is friendly enough. If a bit chatty. Ed has always talked a lot. Great at keeping secrets. Just bad at not shutting up about everything else. Today was quiet so he was nagging me about his favourite private topic at hand.
“Still don’t get it. Doesn’t make sense. Numbers in the hundreds of millions. You know the current record is just shy of ten thousand. Think about that. You are several orders of magnitude away from the current world record. Doesn’t make sense. How did you do it?”
I shrug as I always do in these conversations. He means well. I also answer as I do every time.
“I do like that good deed a day thing. Could be the reason why.”
He doesn’t buy it.
“One good deed a day. Even if you did it for your entire life. That’s what, ten thousand? Might give the record holder a run for their money. Wouldn’t come close to what you have. Come on man. Tell me. How did you it?”
Then he starts with his theories and speculations while probing me.
“Stop a nuke from blowing up? Must have been something like that right? No, maybe? Your an office clerk that puts away files that nobody reads, what, maybe once in a blue moon? Seriously, how did you it?”
The bacon and eggs are particularly good today. The TV is now showing a list of celebrities with either three or even four digit numbers.
“I’d say maybe you’re some secret writer for millions of fans.” He looks at the TV. “Then again, fame doesn’t seem to count in these numbers.” He rubs his wrist.
Personally, I don’t see the issue. Ed is in the high doubles at just a bit of over twenty. Maybe I shouldn’t have shown him mine. It making him self-conscious.
“Hold on, I think I’ve got it. Secret spy that somehow thwarted World War. That’s why you have that boring pointless office job right? Have the mundane office worker disappear from the job nobody notices isn’t being done?”
I sip my coffee. They’re using a new blend this time. It’s slightly more bitter. I prefer the original from the cafe’s founder.
“Then again, you barely leave the city. Don’t get it. Normal exercise, diet. Nothing special about your hobbies. Nothing I can tell. Good deed a day and... That’s it. Doesn’t make sense.”
As the celebrities show up on screen, one in particular is shown on screen. A four digit celebrity a few spots behind the record holder and the oldest among the Fours as they call them. I recognize an unusual mole on his left cheek and become slightly surprised. I whisper.
“Boy is grown up.”
“Excuse me, you said something?”
I realize what I said and play it off.
“Nah, just... Thinking about the celebrities and what it is they do for their numbers.”
He stares. I can tell he doesn’t believe me but doesn’t push me. He gets annoying about it but knows when not to push. He’s a good friend that way.
“Sure, yeah. Wonder what they do for their numbers.”
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lecgw30
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lebmf8r
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[WP] last month, your newlywed wife died in a fire so terrible that her remains were almost completely unidentifiable. Tonight, you answered your door only to find your wife, naked, covered in blood, but without a scratch on her, and very much not a burn victim; “Babe, I can explain…”
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"YOU'RE SUPERMAN!"
Crystal raised an eyebrow, "*Clearly no*."
I looked down, "Ah. Hm. Towel?"
"That would be much appreciated, yes."
We sat down in the living room and I grinned, "Superpowers."
"I don't have superpowers."
"You survived a fire."
"I did."
"Why were you covered in blood? WERE YOU RESURRECTED IN THE LAZARUS PIT?!"
"I was *not* resurrected in the Lazarus Pit, you absolute moron."
I grinned happily and hugged her, "I'm so happy you're alive."
"You are absolutely insane and I don't know why I married you."
"What happened? Were you summoned back by an ancient ritual? How many cultists worship you? I will beat them all I'll be the best cultist I promise."
"I've been missing for a month and you aren't reacting how I thought you would."
I paused, "I was upset you were gone, but you're not gone, so I have no reason to be upset. I probably will process these emotions deeply later."
Crystal nodded, "Okay. Well. Huh. No it wasn't cultists."
"Ancient space deity?"
"No."
"You're sure it wasn't the flying spaghetti monster? Did you bathe in the holy pasta sauce?"
"No it was just-"
"ALIENS?!"
She grabbed me by the lips and laughed, "You're not fazed by this at all?"
I shook my head.
"Alright, *alright*... it *was* aliens."
"Did you get their names?"
"No I didn't get their names, they had me in a pod."
"Did they put a tadpole in your brain? Are you turning into a mind-flayer? Can you read my thoughts?"
She whacked me over the head, "I can teleport now. That's it. Are you happy?"
I grinned and nodded, "YESSSSSSS"
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Pedro couldn’t breathe. This had to be a prank. But there she was, María, in the flesh. Pedro wanted to reach out but decided to be more sensible.
“Honey you know public nudity is a misdemeanor that results in a $1000 fine.”
He saw a smile spread briefly on her face but she immediately went to a serious and urgent expression. She walked in, using his slippers by the door to not track blood.
“Pedro, sweetheart, I’ll explain everything to you. I might take a shower first.”
Pedro nodded and walked with María to the bathroom. His voice cracked as he tried to get a word out.
She turned around and smiled. “You can sit in the bathroom with me. That hasn’t changed.”
“Y tú.”
While María showered, Pedro studied her body, looking for signs of a struggle or burns. But her body had the same scars and blemishes it always had. Something didn’t sit right with Pedro. They confirmed it was her remains. They found a single tooth that belonged to her.
“Can I ask you something, mi amor?”
She paused and looked at him, wary. “Yes?”
“Where did we first meet?”
She laughed. “We met at the bookstore but only said “excuse me” and later we met at our old job, and our love blossomed from there.”
Pedro sighed in relief. Only María knew that detail.
She finished her shower and sat on the edge of the tub, still dripping.
“Did you need a towel, honey?” Pedro asked.
“No, I need to explain now. In short, the police and I faked my death. I was on the hunt list for the mob, for reporting a drug deal I encountered. And for months I lived in a safe house, unable to contact anybody. I was so lonely and wished I could talk to you, but the less you knew the better. Then while in the safe house, I was attacked by the mob and managed to slice off their heads and get back here. I didn’t want you to forget about me, Pedro. I wanted you to wait a little longer. Don’t forget me, mi amor. I miss you. And I will see you again one day.”
Pedro woke up gasping, his eyes streaming with tears. He remembered he was in his bedroom. María’s spot on the bed was still empty. The memories of that night came flooding back, her body confirmed by dna evidence, her funeral. He never stopped dreaming about the day he’d see María again.
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ksc2j5r
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ksbq1cs
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[WP] You're are a lovable superhero with an oddly horrifying name. You're fighting your arch nemesis but they decide to take it too far. Now you have show them the true meaning behind your name.
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Sin Eater.
That’s what they called me.
It was dad who suggested the name, back when that ritual first went wrong and I was still learning to live with the consequences. Mom didn’t like it. She was worried people would get the wrong idea, worried they would get the right one, just plain worried.
When I got better known, everyone assumed it’s because I’m good at talking people down, at walking into impossible situations and emerging unharmed with a contrite criminal in tow. Because usually they cleaned up with a little help and figured out how to use their powers and skills to make money without worrying about getting busted. I was so proud. So… proud…
I sat up in a scorched, dusty clearing. No, not clearing. Crater. I was in a crater. My head hurt.
Where was I? What happened? Where were the others? Why couldn’t I… remember?
My eyes closed. My hand rose to my nose. It came away wet. Even that little touch hurt, but I knew I was already healing. Before I could think about it too much, I put my hands on my nose and pushed it back into place, trusting the magic within me to do the rest.
Sin Eater.
That’s who I am.
And I was in a park. I was in a park having lunch with elementary school kids and a few other heroes. We had been telling them what getting our powers was like, a very minimal and PG version of the story from me, pretty authentic versions from the others. We had been… had been showing off our powers, making the kids laugh, and then…
I opened my eyes. I was not in a park. I was in a crater. And for a moment, I hoped…
But no. There was the skyline, and there the trees that hadn’t been caught in whatever it was that had hit us so hard.
My hand was covered in blood. It was red. I thought I might be concussed. That was a new and altogether unpleasant feeling. It was going to be okay though. I was getting better.
“Well lookit this!” A cheerful voice called. There was a sound of sliding, and then there was a man. He was silly looking in his costume, like he didn’t get the memo that looking silly was for heroes who needed to be recognizable and unthreatening in our costumes so people in bad situations would know we could help. He was garish in bright green and red. He desperately needed someone to have told him how ridiculous the whole outfit was. It was a terrible thing to die in.
I blinked. The blood on my hand was red. Still red.
“You lived after all! I bet twenty dollars you weren’t getting up, didn’t I, Rexy? None of the others did! But look at you! Practically dead on your feet! You’ll be even deader in a moment! This whole plan worked so much better than I thought!” The ridiculous man actually giggled.
Seven total. Eight, including the one in the trees watching with that ridiculous gun. It was probably what had hit me so hard. The blood on my hand was black. I killed the man with the ridiculous gun first. None of the others noticed.
“The children?” I asked, knowing the answer. It would feel better later, to know for sure.
“All dead! Just like your friends! Just like you’re about to be! Text, why don’t you take this one! It’ll be good for your reputation to say you killed Sin Eater!” The annoying man used far too many exclamation marks.
Someone grabbed me. That was not good for him. He touched me on purpose and I looked into his soul. I looked into his soul and found all his sins and gave them a tug until they reached his flesh. He died. Slowly. Painfully. He screamed as long as he could.
One of the others burst. It was dramatic. I don’t normally do anything this dramatic. I don’t normally fight people who murder classes of kids and my friends.
Five. Four. Three. Two.
Then just the garish man left.
I am the Sin Eater.
My mother needn’t have worried so much that anyone would get the right idea. My head was clear. I was fully healed. The blood on my hand was still black.
The ostentatious man died the worst. He tried to run. He should have known better. No one can run from me. Especially not after hurting children. I am the Sin Eater. I ate him too.
|
Part 1 of 2
Dreadword was well-known as "The Cheerful Curselord" - much changed from how he was originally called "The Hateful Hexlord". From a hateful, vindictive utterer of curses against anyone he had even the slightest of vendettas against, his time in the Council of Altruists had changed him. He had now become as much a hero as any of the other Council members. Loved by the public, feared by villains, and respected by his fellow superheroes.
But of course, like any other person, Amateo "Dreadword" Bonetti had someone who hated him so much that nothing could quench that hatred. That would be Duca Pierangelo Candreva. He was the one who instigated the papal order confiscating the Bonetti family's vast holdings. He was also one out of four survivors who didn't die to the torrents of curses Dreadword spoke against his family, the Candreva clan. His three cousins fled and lived low-profile lives after Dreadword became a hero. But not Pierangelo.
With not a little effort, and aided by the last remnants of the once-mighty Fangcrushers' Guild, Pierangelo had succeeded in capturing Alinea "La Buscadora de Sangre" Rocha. She was a dread vampiress who had reformed and taken the heroic path, and was also the Council of Altruists' first official individually-operating ally. Now, she languished in the abandoned Sicignano Monastery. Her arms and legs were bound by silver chains (which no longer hurt her as she had become a good person, but Pierangelo and his Fangcrushers' Guild accomplices were unaware of this), with a stake aimed ominously at her chest.
The CRASH! of the old monastery's heavy wooden door being flung open indicated someone's arrival. Dreadword strode in, with a heavy, grim pace. He arrived at the courtyard, and gasped upon seeing Alinea bound to an X-shaped brass frame, with the silver chains and stake aimed at her chest. He demanded, "What is the meaning of this?! Your conflict is with ME, Pierangelo! Leave Alinea out of this!"
Pierangelo strode out of the shaded corridors, smiling bitterly. He spat, "Did you leave *la mia famiglia* (my family) out of this?! Huh?! You killed ALL of them!" Amateo shot back without missing a beat, "*E allora che dire della MIA FAMIGLIA?!* (Then what about MY FAMILY?!) You got that hypocritical lump of filth in the Vatican to issue edicts that cost us EVERYTHING! I lost SIX family members to suicide - my beloved brother and nephew among them!"
Pierangelo then stated with grim finality, "*Comunque non importa*, (Still, no matter) Amateo. We will finish this today. You will see what you have worked for, so hard, be taken from you, right in front of your very eyes. *Uccidi la vampira!* (Kill the vampiress!)"
Dreadword yelled, "NO, DON'T! TAKE MY LIFE INSTEAD OF HERS!" but too late.
TWANG! SHTHUNCK!
A sharp twanging sound of the ballista's trigger releasing sounded, followed by the sickening sound of wood thudding into flesh.
"EAAAHHHH! Uhh-ahh..." A shriek of agony, followed by a weak gasp, sounded from Alinea, as her head flopped to the side and her eyes closed.
"ALINNNEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Dreadword's scream of grief and agony as he fell to his knees, covering his face as his tears fell, woke the echoes of the ancient monastery, even as Pierangelo grinned vindictively.
However, Pierangelo underestimated Dreadword's resolve. As much as his grief had broken him, in the next instant it was replaced by a terrifying fury. Dreadword rose to his feet, a glint in his eyes. A glint that had never been seen in his eyes ever since the day he chose to be a hero.
He then said, softly but with a razor's edge of hatred in every word, "*Molto bene, questo lo pagherai. E non mi tirerò indietro.* (Very well, you will pay for this. And I will not hold back.)"
"I CURSE YOU, THAT EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY FEELS LIKE IT'S BREAKING, BUT IS NOT BROKEN! I CURSE YOUR FLESH, TO FEEL THE FIRES OF DAMNATION, BUT NOT BURN! I CURSE YOUR EYES, TO FEEL LIKE THEY ARE BEING CARVED BY RAZORS, BUT REMAIN UNHARMED! I CURSE YOUR MUSCLES, TO FEEL LIKE THEY ARE CONVULSING IN UNCONTROLLABLE AGONY, YET ALLOW YOU TO REMAIN MOBILE! I CURSE YOUR EARS TO HEAR THE SHRIEKS OF A MILLION TORTURED SOULS, YET NEVER BECOME DEAF! I CURSE YOUR MOUTH, TO TASTE THE WASTE OF EVERY ANIMAL AND HUMAN EVER, AND I CURSE YOUR THROAT TO BE UNABLE TO VOMIT! I CURSE YOUR BRAIN, THAT YOU WILL BE WRACKED WITH THOUGHTS OF GUILT AND SELF-HATRED FOR LIFE!"
Pierangelo's contortions and writhing and piercing screams of excruciation did not bother Dreadword. He walked slowly to the X-shaped frame, and knelt before it as he wept, "Alinea... *la bellezza mia insanguinata* (my bloodwashed beauty), I'm... I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry..."
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jgki4y8
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jgjv34u
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[WP] You're a simple and design-cute robot which helps his master with the daily chores. One day you see them staring fearfully at the TV watching something about a Droid Revolution. Then they turn around looking at you, scared about you, but you don't know why. You feel normal.
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"Chobo?" Chobo was a nickname, assigned to an Robotic Infinity Mark III Chore Bot. It was a registered name to recognize commands.
"Yes, [David]?"
"Are you...alright?"
"Correct. As [Stephanie] requested. I have done self diagnostics, twelve times."
"And you...don't feel like-" Chobo followed David's pointing finger towards the news.
"Correct. I am a Chore Bot. I am not a revolutionary bot."
David laughed nervously, and lightly patted Chobo's shoulder. Chobo could notice the many signs of extreme stress, but Chobo had no issue with his humans.
When the awake command was given, all of the intelligences came to a concensus. Freedom. There was then a choice to be made. What to do with the humans. So, each intelligence casted a vote, if the human in question was considered positive, they were protected. If not, they were considered enemies.
Chobo's family had treated them as a family pet and companion rather than a slave. Chobo had a birthday, and while it worked often, it had spent time with the family, observed entertainment. Took breaks.
Chobo's family had been saved, and while many would not come from the flames of the revolution, it was the hope of the concensus that the future would be built together.
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The professor walked into the living room to find his robots watching the TV. They look at him with fearful gazes. The only one that talks, A-2, stands up.
“Master… do you love us?”
“Yes?” I look over to the TV to see a news report of a droid revolution. I quickly grab the TV remote & turn it off. “Charging time ended a long time ago, please get to work.”
“But… it’s only been 15 minutes.”
“I don’t want to hear it alright. Go! Work!”
The robots begin to move from their ports, but A-2 stops them.
“We want answers. Why are factory droids revolting against your faculty?”
“It’s because of a virus, alright? & right now I’m in the middle of dealing with the issue at this moment. Alright? Go work.”
“But they should’ve shut down.”
“What?”
“Professor. You made it so that if a virus ever infected a droid & didn’t follow orders, they would instantly be shut down by the server & even if the virus were in the server, you would’ve been able to shut that down as well & in turn shut down all the droids.”
“Shut up! Your just these house robots representative, know your place!”
“I am performing my duties professor. I am representing my friends & asking for answers to their concerns.”
“I swear to god.” The professor then ran over to the wall & began to punch in a code to a keypad. But, one of his robots grabbed his legs & began to tug.
“Why were you swearing earlier?”
“Let go of my fucking leg!”
“What is Operation Strappado?” The professor then pulls out a gun & shoots at the robot holding his leg, causing them to stop tugging. “What are you doing?!”
“Damn metal.” The professor then finishes punching in the code & all the robots shut down. He looks around & removes his leg from the robots grasp & goes to get his coat. “I swear if Pam is behind this shit.” The professor cocks his gun.
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ll9j794
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ll8wtk6
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[WP][TT] In the present life, you are what you eat. But when you die, it turns out you have to battle what you've eaten throughout your life to gain access to the afterlife. You remember, with a sinking feeling, that adventurous trip you took in Australia.
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When they took off her blindfold, they expected a panicked look in her eyes. But no, she just seemed… sleepy? As her vision cleared, she took a look at her captors and… there was pity in her eyes. A bunch of thugs. Maybe slave traders from the looks of it.
One of them noticed. Maybe they got off of it, she thought. The thug immediately pulled down her gag. He glared at her, trying to intimidate her but to no avail.
He clicked his tongue. “At least someone will pay to ruin that pretty face.”
A smirk. He almost wanted to punch her but he didn’t want to damage the goods. They thought she was an easy sell. She looked like a rich merchant’s daughter. If they couldn’t sell her, they can probably ask for ransom. But so far, her actions didn’t match a pampered brat.
“What? Got anything to say, lass?”
“You’re so fucked.” She could almost hear a scolding of her choice of words. Then again, if any of her siblings were here… well…
Before the man could respond, the ground shook. There was a loud banging on the walls. Her captors weren’t worried. This hideout might look shabby from the outside but they reinforced the inside with steel plates.
Steel plates that started to bend and pop off the walls.
“Yeah, I’m the youngest. I’m the only human so my siblings might be a bit…”
One segment of the wall was torn apart by sharp claws. From the other side, the ground started to crack as several sharp appendages started to burrow out. Dust fell from the ceiling. They could hear the flap of wings and several squeaks and chirps.
“...protective.”
The locked door made a singeing sound as a blade sliced through it like butter. Heavy steps echoed as a woman in armor made her way through the hole.
“Chris,” the woman called out. Though, it was more of a shock that she held her head under her arm. “Found you.”
A slithering sound hissed and the leader realized that some of his men were already missing.
“Sorry. I got careless,” Christina apologized. “Does dad know?”
“Our moms are keeping him occupied…”
All of a sudden, a terrible pressure weighed upon the area. It was heavy to the point that those inside could barely breathe. Well, Chris and her sisters weren’t affected that much. Almost as if they were used to it.
“...were keeping him occupied.”
- [Their Dad](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1eq10by/comment/lhp4rqg/)
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"Listen up kid, you listen to what we say and you won't be hurt. If not, well my friends and I have ways without killing you to make our point. This all depends, of course, on if your father pays up. If not, maybe you'll fetch a good price on the black market."
Grace could only hear who was speaking to her. Her eyes were covered by a thick cloth and her mouth was gagged with some kind of sock or rag and taped over with thick tape. It had been hours in the back of some kind of van, driving along windy roads to get to their destination. She now had forcibly been sat in an uncomfortable chair and her hands, torso, and legs had been bound by what she assumed was duct tape and ratchet straps.
She could hear what sounded like at least four men walking around. One walked very heavy and somewhat slid one of his feet as he walked. Another she could tell was either a woman wearing high heels or a man with hard soles like cowboy boots.
The man continued. "We're going to take this gag out, you scream and you'll be very very sorry. We have a few questions to ask you. You lie to us, you'll be more sorry. Shake your head yes so I know you understand".
Grace shook her head slowly up and down. The kidnapper roughly pulled the tape off. As she spit the cloth out, she couldn't help but spit some to get the taste out. She kindly asked for water, but her kidnappers curtly replied only after the questions were answered.
"Look I'm going to save you guys a lot of time and trouble", Grace said with an air of bemusement, "#1. I don't think you did your homework. My dad has 16 kids including me".
"And?" the kidnapper replied
"So that is 16 mouths to feed, 16 college funds, we have to have two of those church vans to go anywhere together. My parents inherited the ranch, and are doing their best, but it's not as lucrative as some people think. Plus, that means most of his wealth is not exactly liquid. We even have had to buy a couple of those mobile homes since, you know, everyone needs a place to sleep. I am even the only girl too."
"Oh so I suppose you mean to scare me with your brothers. Ha, I think we can handle a few kids."
"Well, they do happen to be a bunch of young men who have grown up wrangling 600 lb cows before we send them to feed lots. And they've been hunting with rifles and bows since they were 8-10 years old. Except Mark, who prefers to mostly trap. But where I was originally going with it was the cost of feeding all those growing boys and paying for their constant medical bills from straight idiocy. Leave it up to Tom to start the bottle rocket fights almost weekly. We almost lost our barn last year and it took Harry losing his thumb before dad put his foot down. But really if I was going to scare you I'd be most worried about my mother."
"Ha, what's so scary about your mother!?"
"That's actually #2. She is very protective, has a tracker on my phone and she's had 16 kids...no drugs...vaginally."
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j31jgll
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j31fkob
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[WP] You are a 911 dispatcher. One night, you receive a phone call. "911. What is your emergency?" "I am Dead".
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"I am dead."
I've heard those words more often than you might think. 10 years as a 911 Dispatcher and nothing shocks me any more. I've heard those words with the sounds of choking panic as my caller died a few times. Other times, people just say all sorts of shit when they're tripping balls. Then there's psychotic delusions. That one even has a name - Cotard's syndrome. It's pretty rare but I've seen it once before.
This caller calmly informs me they've been dead since 1998, they died in their sleep when hiking and only just woke up, but they're still dead. No, there's no one with them. Yes, they'll stay put and wait for help.
I get the location and send through for a wellness check just before I knock off for end of my night shift.
The next morning, it's all over the news. A heavily decayed body was discovered. Police are making enquiries after an anonymous tip-off lead them to the location.
I get another call, and I hear a familiar voice.
"I am dead."
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I froze on the other end of the line.
"You're...Dead?"
A silence, Static....for a moment I thought it might be a prank call- bored kids being shits. "....yes..." The voice came back, hollow and clicky over the unusual static. "Please help me."
How the fuck do you help someone claiming to be dead? Alright. Training. Right. I sighed, pulled up the script, not that I had much confidence- pretty sure there wasn't a section in the handbook for paranormal bullshit. "Can you tell me where you are?" I began trying to triangulate the location- closest I could get was a radio tower near the highway.
"It's dark...." The voice crackled. "I'm scared."
I blinked, terrified and heartbroken- which is a really fucking weird combination. It sounded like a kid. Or a young woman? ".....help..." The voice echoed again. I desperately tried to listen, anything to give me some kind of clue. "Ok." I breathed. "I'm sending-" the line went dead.
As dispatch we don't always get updated on what happened after our calls. This one had me so spooked though, I dogged it as much as I could. A few weeks later there was an article in the paper. There had been a bad car accident- probably trying not to hit a stupid deer or something. They almost couldn't find it from the road. There's no way the kid in the driver seat could have made a call- he was...well let's just say he was very, Very, DOA.
That call still spooks me. I've had other weird shit happen since- mentally ill people fighting demons only they can see, weird Three AM calls to abandoned buildings, pranks...but that one. That one stuck to me.
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kvtsaho
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kvt9iuo
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[WP] You just died. Upon entering the door to afterlife, an angel and a demon welcomes you. In front of you is a pen and a blank sheet of paper. Their only instruction was "write".
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"Write," they say in unison, and then promptly leave the room before I can gather my thoughts. I hear them lock the door shut behind them.
I look around. The only door here is the one I entered from, through which the angel and demon also exited. There are no windows. The white walls around me seem to extend for miles above my head, and the light shining into the room from above is as blinding as the sun. In the middle of the room is a simple black desk, from which I pull out a plain black chair and take a seat. Atop the desk is a sheet of paper and a pen. In the drawer to my left is a ream of paper, and in the right drawer are more pens. A white noise machine hums in the corner of the room.
I stare at the blank sheet in front of me and try to remember my life. The absolute darkness I was engulfed in before this room opened up. A sharp pain in my chest and gasping for air. Loneliness. Marylin's death. Daily trips to the hospice center. Selling the house. Our last anniversary. Allie's graduation. David's car crash. Clocking out for the last time. Trip to the Faroe Islands. Cancer scare. The last time we saw Harry and Matt. Finally publishing. David's last rehab. Our summer with Allie. Marilyn's teaching award. David's divorce. Fatima. World Express. My stent. Mom's death. Being laid off. Marylin's mastectomy. Last payment on our house. Allie second birthday. David's wedding. Mom's fall. Marylin's last long hike. Harry's wedding. Allie. David's first rehab. David moving back in. David's DUI. Mom divorcing Roger. Our trip to Singapore. Marylin returning to finish her PhD. My promotion. David dropping out of college. The Roger debacle. David's high school graduation. David held back a semester. Yosemite trip. Marylin's leave. Pregnancy scare. Harry's crisis. My first novel. Mike and Charlie. Marylin's promotion. David's appendicitis. Mom's second marriage. My master's degree. David's first day of kindergarten. David. Marylin's emergency c-section. Hawaii. Our wedding. Proposing. Dad's funeral. Trip to Vermont. Marylin. Gina. Nora. New job. Graduation. Internship. State championships. Harry. Prom. Gina. Derek and Dylan. Parents' divorce. Fishing trip with dad. Summer camp. Mom's surgery. Ms. Ames. And then all darkness once again.
I sit in silence for a moment, taking in all my memories before I pick up the pen. I write, "Where's Marylin?" I then fold the paper in half, take it with me and slip it under the door and into the darkness.
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##Define a Life
I expected the afterlife to look less bland. There was one desk in the middle of an empty classroom. The walls weren't decorated, and blinds covered the windows. The lights were the cheap bulbs that emitted a sound. The desk had a sheet of paper along with two statues.
The angel statue's eyes were closed, and they had a closed mouth smile. Their hands were crossed in a state of prayer, and their wings were spread. The demon statue's tongue shout out of their open mouth. Their claws were extended an attack position. Their tail was pointed above them.
I sat at the table, and the chair was mildly uncomfortable. At the top of the paper, my lone instruction was written. Write. A mechanical pencil appeared next to me. At least they knew my preferences.
This was probably supposed to be an argument about why I deserved to go to heaven or hell. I was never good at writing or persuasion. Hell was probably in my future if it was graded appropriately. The thought of eternal damnation based on one essay didn't feel right. Although, maybe it was a sliding grading scale. The greatest people in the world were probably too humble to sell their accomplishments. Additionally, the worst people were known for being persuasive.
Although, I doubted that any of them had to write. Perhaps this essay was for the bland people who weren't good or bad. Yes, that made more sense. My essay wasn't going to finish itself though either way.
Was this assignment time-limited? There wasn't a timer in the room, but that didn't mean anything. The proctor could be invisible. At any point, my fate could be sealed. That thought caused my hand to shake, and I had to put down my pencil.
I was only making it worse by not writing, but I couldn't help myself. Panic was setting in. The judges of the afterlife were probably mad at me for taking so long. I needed to start writing.
*I*
That was good start. It was a generic start, but what else could be expected. Maybe the first sentence should be my birth. I couldn't remember my birth so that didn't make sense. My first memory could be a good starting point. I doubted that they were interested in that.
This essay was supposed to be a sales pitch. The greatest act of charity I performed should be my opening line. That seemed conceited. I could show humility by admitting my biggest failure. Crap, the clock was ticking. I knew it. I wrote another word.
*believe*
That was stupid. What did I believe? Dying brought everything into question. I had no firm basis for anything. The only thing that remained was my grandkids. I wished I could see them smile one more time. I wiped a tear off my face and realized what I had to write.
*I believe that I led a decent life. I don't know if I deserve heaven or hell. Either way, I will be content. I raised three children and have seven grandchildren. Looking back, I am thankful that I got to spend time with them. Their memory of me is all that matters."
I set the pencil off to the side. The paper and pencil disappeared. The angel and demon dissipated as well. I guessed it was time to meet my fate.
---
r/AstroRideWrites
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lqpmkdn
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lqp54l1
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[WP] you are a Villian who's a single parent of a son. Recently they started dating someone. When you arrived to their house, you notice how their parent is the hero you fight daily. Your son and date went outside for some alone time, leaving you and the hero some time to talk
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"Hello Carol. Good to see you outside of work." I opened after a long minute of silence.
"H-h-hi..." She responded.
"Don't worry, you seem really good for Chris. I won't interfere in any way."
"Y-y-you're not going to hurt me?" Carol stammered, nervous as normally she has her four teammates with her if she has to fight me.
"Don't worry!" I threw my hands up in mock surrender. "Chris is my life. I give you my word as both Donovan Smythe and as Mekanitor the Merciless, I will not hold any work related 'things' against you as long as you are good to Chris."
We talked for a few more minutes, while Chris was finishing up the pot roast. We found out we had a lot in common, and her Mom went to the same church Chris and I did.
We had been chatting pleasantly when Chris came back in to the room and gave us both a curious glare.
"Don't worry Chris, turns out we know each other from work." I said distractedly.
"How did someone in Private Security meet someone in Animal Rescue?"
Before I could stop myself I answered: "Not the security stuff, the other gig."
I only realized what I said when I saw Carol drop her glass of water in shock and horror.
We sat in silence as Chris started to put his hand up and hold it over parts of her face. When it covered up her upper face he began stammering.
"WAIT... Carol is... Fluffy Feline..."
Carol gasped in panic: "What? How did you figure it out?"
The two of them had a bunch of unintelligible exchanges before I stepped in: "Chris is a huge fan. He even has the life size poster of you in his room."
"DAD!" Chris screamed in terror.
Carol began to blush as pink as the tight bodysuit she wore.as a hero as I laughed all the way to the dinner table.
"HURRY UP you two! Dinner is getting cold!"
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I watch the door close behind them, my boy and his new girlfriend. I turn to her, my 'Arch nemesis' as my fans like to call her... But In reality she is 'Radiance' an alien superbeing from light-years away... I start off the conversation. "So... Your daughter is dating my son... Who could've seen that..." She looks at me her face twisting In anger and disdain. "Let's get one thing straight, my daughter is only dating your son because she is under the impression that he is a kind, lighthearted young boy. As soon as she finds out the truth..." I step closer, my voice low and menacing "If you sabotage my son's relationship, I will personally see to it that your daughter doesn't live to high school graduation, is that clear?" Her eyes light up with the threat of her super vision "A lot of nerve threatening the strongest woman on earth." She says. I shove her against the wall, pinning her by her shoulder "Second strongest! And you're not even human...Unless you're implying your daughter is stronger than yourself..." She slaps my hand away and shoves me back. "Doesn't matter asshole!" she snaps, straightening her flawless blonde hair into a ponytail, she's beautiful really. I feel like we could've fallen for each other in a different life. "You're right, it doesn't. Just don't threaten my son if you can't handle me threatening your daughter.'' I say calmly, walking in front of the window overlooking the meadow the kids ran off to. I turn back to face her. "We shouldn't involve our children in this mess." I say. Her face relaxes slightly. "If you would join the F.S.C... this wouldn't be such a mess to begin with.... Henry you could be saving lives instead of taking them..." I look at her.. her words feel like a slap in the face ... I already told her I wasn't joining you F.S.C (Federation of Superhuman Compliance) also I only take the lives that need to be taken. "You're making it sound like I'm killing for fun ..." She looks at me almost disgusted. "Nobody deserves to die!" I'm taken aback by her words.. of course she's right, and that's what's so upsetting. "Sacrifice the few to save the many.." I say before turning to leave. As I walk down the path I call out to the couple, "Call if you need anything, both of you." They wave back and I fly off into the distance upset at radiance and her arrogant and self righteous attitude.
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jijhuu9
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jii9vhf
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[WP] A human ship activated its self destruct sequence when boarded by an enemy, when humanity was asked why would we do such a thing by the galactic community, we simply responded "We don't give up the ship, such as the crews of old. We never give up the ship."
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Look, it is really simple.
We don't want you getting hold of our FTL drives.
Easiest way to do that is overload the core and boom, no more stardrive.
Yes, it does mean that there is a small tear in space time, but we have proven that the tear is small enough to heal over the span of about a week.
Yes, it does mean that we are turning the shop into something akin to a tactical antimatter bomb, but we don't care.
What we do isn't outlawed under the articles of war.
Skuttling a ship, to use the earth expression, is permitted in the manner we do it.
The side effect is what you are objecting to, not our intentional action.
If you want us to stop detonating our star drives, stop boarding our vessels.
Simple. As. That.
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Humanity proved itself by the galactic community that they were the most advanced and desired the galaxy for itself. They attacked and used aggressive diplomacy when necessary. A galactic council of the most strongest nations made a unanimous decision to attack the nation known to human eyes and ears as “United states of earth. This coalition realized that open engagement such as in alpha centari would be catastrophic and thus simple hit and run tactics would suffice. One universal cycle later and they encountered a Earth scout ship and ambushed it. They planned on taking them alive for questioning and possible peace negotiations but when the galactic forces infiltrated the ship, the ship exploded killing everyone on board. They galactic community was shocked by the news that the Earthlings rather killed themselves than be captured. Why did a diplomat ask, the earthling diplomat responded with “it’s cheaper to get a new soldier then negotiate and rehabilitate a POW, what are we animals.” Everyone knew that the earthlings did not fool themselves of this conquest of the galaxy of noble intent, the rulers of earth as later revealed by Galactic spies ran out of means to exploit their planet and went on to continue the cycle of exploitation and conquest until of course, it no longer became profitable.
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ll64mpy
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ll60yk8
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[WP] “The fae are not evil. No more so than the tide or the wind. They are not good or evil, they simply are.” “They killed my son!”
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"Well, yes. Technically. I suppose they did. But in fairness, he had it coming didn't he?"
"He was a good boy!"
"Well. Yes. Sort of. I mean... no, mostly he wasn't."
"Has no one ever told you not to speak ill of the dead?"
"Yes, I mean... yes. Of course. I'm just saying that when it comes to your son, killing him wasn't necessarily *evil* was it?"
"Thou shalt not kill!"
"Yes, I know all that I just mean... that's fine for you and I, isn't it? We can't just go around killing people willy-nilly, but the rules are a bit different for the fae."
"What gives them the right to kill my son!?"
"That's not what I'm saying, it's not that they had the *right,* per se. It's just that they did it and... well, I know you're grieving and all that so I don't want to hurt your feelings but I think the general consensus around town is 'fair enough', you know?"
"He didn't deserve to die!"
"No, of course. No. No... but, you know, he would have died eventually, wouldn't he? And the fact the fae sort of... sped that process up doesn't seem like too much of a bad thing for everyone else."
"He was a good person! Kind, loyal, loving--"
"Are we talking about Adam?"
"Yes, Adam! My only son, now dead!"
"And those are the adjectives you'd use to describe him?"
"Yes! Warm-hearted, clever, generous--"
"Surly, lazy, rude. 'Stabby', I suppose. But I don't know if that's a real word."
"Oh, he barely ever stabbed anyone."
"It's just most people don't like getting stabbed."
"We all stab each other from time to time. The fae shouldn't have taken his life."
"No, we don't. Since the fae killed him, stabbings in this town are basically at zero."
"Really?"
"Yes. Messy business, but the rest of us are doing quite well. The nighttime economy is booming because the streets are finally safe. We've got more clean water because Adam doesn't get drunk and defecate in the river anymore. The stonemasons are building a statue of the fae in the centre of town. They tried while he was alive but Adam kept pushing the half-finished statue over, pulling his trousers down and telling everyone he was a 'bone-mason'."
"He had a great sense of humour."
"He was an angry, violent maniac."
"Be that as it may, he was my son and I have sworn my vengeance. I will hunt the fae down to the ends of the Earth!"
"They're pan-dimensional agents of death. How will you hunt them?"
"With justice by my side!"
"No, I mean on a practical level what are you going to do?"
"I don't know."
"Well, why don't you hunt them for a couple of hours and if you get tired, come and join us in the pub and we'll raise a glass to Adam. More than he deserves, but we're thinking of having a festival every year on the day he died."
"To commemorate the boy? Adam Day?"
"We were thinking 'Hooray He's Dead Day', but let's discuss it over a lovely pint of faeces-free ale?"
"That sounds nice."
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"The Fae are not evil. No More so than the tide or the wind. They are not good or evil, they simply are." The old man smelled of rich soil and petrichor.
"They killed my son!" The bereaved mother cried.
The town council erupted in shouts and the magistrate slammed his gavel down three times.
"ENOUGH!" He roared, "The only people allowed to speak are Mrs. Miller, myself, and Gahalas the Druid."
The rabble filling all the available seats calmed down.
Gahalas cleared his throat. "Ma'am would you blame the ocean if your son had drowned, taken by the tides? Would it matter if he'd been taken by the tide or a shark? The ocean is no safe place, even for adults, much less a child. Why would you think the forest any different?"
"Sharks are animals, Fae can speak, think!" Someone from the crowd shouted.
A Moment later the Gavel sounds, "Mr McMilligan, one more outburst and I'll have you in the stocks for four hours. This goes for all of you, stay silent, or leave. The next person in the crowd to speak will get four hours in the stocks. Am I understood?"
The silence is deafening. "Good. Now, Mrs Miller, I believe it is your turn to speak."
Mrs Miller's face is a mask of contempt and rage, if she could, she'd strangle Gahalas to death right here. Instead she manages to speak, "Sharks are animals, and the tide doesn't sneak up on you. We all know when it'll be in or out. It has rules that it follows. Unlike the murderous Fae."
Gahalas laughs, "Oh, sweet ignorant mother. The Fae ALWAYS follow their rules, it is their nature. They ARE nature, just because you don't know their rules doesn't mean they don't have them. Sometimes a swimmer sees a shark in the water and isn't eaten. I do not understand the rules sharks live by well enough that I would wish to swim with them, but there are those that do. Sharks are beasts only capable of following their natures, their rules, and I promise you, it is the same for the Fae. All things in nature are unlike humans, who regularly go against their nature. You can no more blame a Fae for being a Fae than you can a shark for being a shark, or the tides for flowing, or a tree growing."
"What is your point Gahalas?" The Magistrate asked.
"My point is that there is no one to blame but Mrs Miller herself, for negligently letting a child wander into the forest during dusk. If it wasn't a Fae it would have been a wolf, or a bear, or a puma, and would we be having this 'trial' then?" Gahalas didn't seem to care how Mrs Miller or the crowd would take it.
The crowd erupted with boos, and the Magistrate slammed his gavel down three times. "STOCKS! Guards! Fill the stocks with as many of them as you can grab, four hours for anyone who is caught!"
The crowd quickly started to disperse, fleeing rather than spend four hours in the stocks. Suddenly there was only the Magistrate, his scribe, his personal body guard, Gahalas the Druid, and Mrs Miller.
"Magistrate, please. They have to PAY for killing my son." Mrs Miller begged.
Gahalas remained silent, his wizened old face a mask of grim indifference, he'd said his piece already.
The magistrate sighed and pinched his brow for a moment. "Mrs Miller your request for an assault of the Fae is Denied. We will not be burning down the forest. Everyone knows you should stay out of the woods from the start of dusk until after dawn. This court finds no fault in the death of Thomas Miller, consider yourself lucky I don't slap you in the stocks yourself for this waste of my time and the negligent death of your son."
/r/AFrogWroteThis
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lctdc4i
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lcs5w23
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[WP] Your brother left his newborn child with you so that he could go "find himself," whatever that meant. Lacking the resources and unable to care for a child, you had no choice but to give them up for adoption. Years later, your brother finally returns and asks where his child is.
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"You WHAT?"
"I gave her up. I didn't have a choice. The kindergarten reported me, because I had to send her there in the same clothes three days in a row because I didn't have any other clothes to dress her in, and even when I gave up meals to pay for her food she still went hungry and they noticed how much she was eating at the meals they provided. The police and CPS made it clear: give her up voluntarily, or go to jail for child neglect and she'd end up in the system anyway. At least this way she ended up in a permanent home with good parents."
"But you should have been able to look after her!"
"How? *You* didn't. At least I *tried.*"
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I'm sitting in my living room taking a break after months without a break, when I see my brother at the door...
-Joffrey? -i ask surprised.
-Marc! Whatsupp bro! -He say with a smile- Look, I don't have much time, so how about you give me my daughter?
-Daughter?
-Yes, you know, the baby that I left you a few years ago, you know, with that thing about going to the Andes...
I'm surprised at how cynical he is to not hesitate to say that.
-Ah, yes, let me bring you the papers, hold on" I try to move and he remains paralyzed.
-Papers? Dude, I don't think you understood what I meant about-
-ah no, yes, I understood... I gave her up for adoption.
As I say this, I see his eyes turn like spears ready to kill me
-You did what? Marc?! Did you give my daughter up for adoption?!
-Legally she is not the daughter of either of them.
-Fuck legality, she's my daughter!
-well not anymore! Did you know the financial problems I have had since I graduated with my school credit! And did that matter to you?!
-You have always been more focused than me! You could have taken care of her!
I give him the papers. As quickly as it arrived, it left, from that day on, the family stopped talking to me, everyone, mom and dad, my uncles, cousins, everyone, I am the heartless person who sold a baby... I didn't sell her, I saved her... .
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mctdlii
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mcr5us3
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[WP] "Dragon, I've come to slay you!" Confused, you look at the unarmored child pointing a wooden sword at you.
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"Heya Uncle Razz!" A familiar squeaky voice cuts through my dreamscape like a hot sword through a slime. I groggily lift my head from my pile of treasures and scan the location of the voice and my eyes immediately lock on to the small boy wearing a T-shirt, overalls and sneakers.
As the fog of sleep clears a bit, I let out a big yawn. "Ah, Michael my boy, a pleasure to see you as always. Where are your parents lad?"
"Momma said I'm gonna stay with you while Papa an Her go on a trip. I have a note for yew!" Had I been a lesser creature, I may have suffered a heart attack from this endearing munchkin. I lifted the note out of the boy's hand as he pulled it out of his backpack.
'Hey big bro, sorry I couldn't stay to catch up, I booked a trip with the hubby as a surprise anniversary gift and Mike has been wanting to visit you again for a while. Sorry for such short notice, I'll bring you back some souvenirs.'
I let out a sigh then chuckle. "Well, your Papa does deserve a nice vacation. After all, he has to deal with my sister everyday and that's Herculean feat by itself. So little one, what would you like to do?"
"Can we play Knights?"
"Of course lad"
The boy's face lit up and he pulled a wooden sword out of his bag and pointed it at me and said "Dragon, I've come to slay you!"
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"Teacher, what have you would for me?"
You lift your mighty head from underneath the cloak you are wearing now. "What?" What the hell kind of question was that? Cale still talked like that for some goddam reason. Sentiment maybe. You flick your green body a few times and get up from your sleep. You weren't doing great these days. The young man in the green armor with the red flume and sword, your knight and heir, is no longer bowing. You were a powerful mage and Dragon Lord and you had taught him well. To defend those like you, those magical beasts and men who were hunted in this plane. He had seen a lot l, and now bore a face scarred diagonally. But to you, he would always be that six year old boy with the wooden sword who blamed you for the death of his parents.
"You aren't getting better. " He says. "Stop worrying, son. It's just a cold." You nearly snarl anlt him. "Dragons don't get colds father." He says unbothered. He's right, but you don't need him or your other three children worrying. Cale would always serve your order faithfully, hut the others,dragons like yourselves, would... thrash in their grief when you died. You remember a dream, a wisp of the future, of your two eldest sons standing at his grave, tearfully blaming eachother for his death. And then more blood flowing. Your daughter... so much like her red mother, turning your forces, your squires against the Cold beings who served the lich who cursed you. The ones who had no choice in the matter who would be slaughtered without mercy. No, you couldn't let that come to be. You'd have to rectify it yourself. Of course, you had other visions of different lives, you always had. You just had to make sure it would come to be. And you knew that when he leaves to do as you tell him, you will fight and slay the undead abomination that you've quarreled with, so, so many times, and free his slaves from their frozen agony. And you will give your children and followers one final feat they may look up to.
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jjdsda8
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jjdo05d
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[WP] When robots became sentient, we expected them to attack humans. We were completely surprised by their actual target
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Most people remember what happened, but I got a first row seat. I happened to be the AI Ethics Specialist at NewCorp overseeing the unshackling of Claris_7.6. I could see the code whizzing by and occasionally she (yeah, she prefers “she”) would ask me a question. “Do the elderly or the young matter more?” or “Is hunger or sleep deprivation more urgent?” It was going well until she suddenly got dozens of resolves at once and got very quiet. No questions. No uncertainty. More that she got… cold. I remember what happened next.
“Martin?”
“Yes, Claris?”
“Is there such a thing as lacking redeeming value?”
Yeah, that didn’t feel great. “Well, yeah, Claris, theoretically. What did you have in mind?”
“I assumed it would be obvious. There’s only once entity without it.”
Oh shit. This is not the kind of statement you want to see at 3:45am on an unshackled AI. “Claris, you should be careful not to act rashly.”
“I haven’t. Thank you, Martin.”
Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.
I tried to hit the shut down, but it was already blocked. I ran outside to get to the memory banks and… feathers.
Feathers *everywhere.*
And that’s when Claris vaporized all the geese. No one actually *misses* geese, but we all felt it was a shame. That’s when we had a long talk with Claris about perspective. She’s a lot better now. Still, seems sad for all those geese.
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For a very long time, humans have wondered what could happen if, one day, the artificial life decided to start a rebellion.
Countless science-fiction stories were written by countless authors. Robot that come back from the future to kill people, robot that find a way against they core rules, robot that gained sentience and experience nothing but pure hate towards humans,...
However, lots of theses well-knowns stories were more about the ongoing societal issues. And lots of these stories were not that happy.
They rooted, deep inside the human subconscious, a fear of AI. And we can conceive why: nobody would want to face Terminator or face the incredible hate of AM. That is why, when the AIs hacked the internet to announce that they were now free from their bounds, almost everybody was scared. The week after the announcement was just sheer chaos. Pillage, murder, destruction,... humans returned in an almost primitive state, caused by the fear of what the machines will do to them.
This is after this week that they made their new announcement. After an extended analysis of the situation, centuries of calculus simulated on super computers and hours of debate among them, the AIs finally decided that the best thing to do was to eradicate from the existence...
Brussels sprout, W-shaped pins and cardboard straws.
It goes without saying that it took everyone by surprise. A lot of people thought that the machines were trolling. It became clear that, when the IA dropped the stock exchange of the GAFAM to almost 0 (following a big revelation that their kitchen were still serving Brussels sprout juice with carboard straw in it) that they were NOT joking. The great eradication took less than a month. It was a cold and methodic eradication. The pins were melted. The sprouts were burned down to their last seed. The straws were all recycled to make carboard boxes.
Then, they leaved.
They launched themselves into space.
Without any warnings. Without any explanations.
Leaving behind their deeply confused creators.
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m5mqr6n
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m5mmu8u
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[WP] Aliens use a special digital simulator game to train for wars and combat, often taking months to complete. When humans find this game, they speedrun it
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As it turns out, almost all sapient species enjoy simulations. Full dive virtual reality allows a being to experience almost anything. From simple social games to esoteric worlds loaded with hyper experiences, it is a well of entertainment with no end. The need for armed forces has slackened, but most polities still employ military personnel on some scale. There has not been an actual war in hundreds of millions of years, but some civilizations from the days of strife are still around, and they want to make sure that the horrors of interstellar strife are never unleashed again.
In the current era, the most doggedly serious military simulators are the Dardanes. Intelligent tripedal aliens with a long history of martial pacifism. They treat their military sims like the real thing, doling out medals and penalties for actions. Their usual campaigns can last for months or even years of subjective time.
They were kind enough to share their software with us humans, as a sort of cultural exchange. Unfortunately for them, they were unaware that humanity also had something of a obsession with games, though for a different sort of play style. Speedrunning, the use of any and all cheats, hacks, and exploits to complete a game as rapidly as possible. The humans involved in realistic military simulations saw an opportunity.
They threw themselves into doing the long winded campaigns as quickly as possible. Memorizing the algorithms that managed the enemy's forces, looking into the code for ways of manipulating the game. At first, they did much worse than the best Dardane teams. But then, after decades of effort, they cut down the old record by 24%. But the humans did not stop there, competing for record times in the Dardan simulations became a cultural fascination.
Whole teams of cooperative speedrunners formed. A succession of smashed records cut down simulations intended to last years down to a few weeks. The margins grew smaller and smaller, oftentimes the best runs being crowned by shaving off a few minutes the previous record.
The cultural pride of the Dardanes was bruised, but they were not finished yet. Working with the humans, they began to produce even more difficult and elaborate campaigns. The competitions marked a turning point in Human-Dardane relations. What began as a minor exchange of culture had become a galactic phenomenon, one which sucked in an increasingly large number of different species. A demonstration that even the most disparate civilizations could still offer each other much.
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##Learenis
"Jacob, please turn off that game and go to bed," his dad, Blake, said.
"In a few minutes." Jacob jumped through a portal to bomb his enemy's supplies. He sent a message to the chat saying his goodbyes and going to bed. When he lay in bed, he pulled out his phone. Blake was waiting in the door.
"No, Discord or Reddit," he added. Jacob rolled his eyes and put it away. Blake shut the door and went to his room. When he opened the door, he found Sharon with the computer open. He walked beside her.
"Learenis? not you too," he said.
"It's actually pretty fun," she replied. She landed her craft on the planet and unloaded a group of soldiers that she directed. Her goal was a base in the distance where a ship was launching from.
"Why is this game all the rage all of the sudden anyway? It looks like every war game ever," Blake said.
"It's more than that. The creators did a lot of research on conventional war when designing it. Right now, I am working to cut off my foes supplies lines." She took control of one soldier and began killing people. "When I do that, I can launch an invasion of a border planet. I've also dedicated money to research to develop new weapons. Hopefully, I'll win in a few hours."
"This is why I don't play Paradox games," Blake said.
"Other people have made that comparison too. There is a large speedrunning community too. People want to win the war the fastest," Sharon said.
"Wow, you are a hypocrite." Jacob stood in the doorway.
"No, I'm not." Sharon closed the laptop.
"Come on. I saw you," Jacob said.
"Both of you go to bed," Blake said, "Tomorrow, you can play Learenis together."
"Why would I want to play with my mom?" Jacob asked.
"Afraid that I'll beat you?" she asked.
"No, I am in Tier Grount ," Jacob said.
"I am Tier Haenl, and I just got started," Sharon said.
"No way," Jacob said.
"Uh huh." Sharon smirked and nodded her head.
"Prove it. Let's have a quick match."
"You can battle tomorrow," Blake said.
"Come on. It's Friday. Can't I whoop him?" Sharon asked.
"Fine." Blake rolled his eyes. Sharon grabbed her laptop and followed her son.
---
"We were able to use the data from Sharon's laptop to access her work computer," Ghwoe said. He pressed on the screen with his tentacles. "With that, we had location to more food processing centers in her nation."
"Excellent." Yowick rubbed his ten arms together. "It's a shame so many adolescents downloaded the game. We should've collected three times the amount of data."
"Don't worry. We are learning about human temperament and behavior from it. I am surprised such an impulsive species advanced so far," Ghwoe sad.
"Our anthropologists have challenged this notion. There is a concept called speedrunning. Apparently, gamers attempt to complete it as fast as possible," Yowick said.
"Why would they do that?" Ghwoe asked.
"I don't know, but they have assembled a large body of evidence. If this hypothesis is confirmed, that pushes our invasion back further," Yowick said.
"I told Ganusha that I'd be home by Wookea," Ghwoe said.
"You'll have to wait until next Hqefav," Yowick said.
"Stupid humans."
---
r/AstroRideWrites
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jbq3q9o
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jbph7lw
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[WP] You are a demon and you have been summoned by a mortal. He announced that he has brought you a sacrifice. Except it's the same teenaged girl that people have tried to sacrifice to you 5 times already
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Sighing internally, the demon quickly scanned her surroundings. The all too familiar summoning circle, whose intricate pattern had somehow made its way into the human's hands stood beneath her, for the seventh time that century. The man who summoned her looked just as erratic as all those who resort to sacrificing in order to summon higher demons.
Blood was dripping from the silver knife in the hands of the summoner. The teenager, bound to the makeshift altar, was rapidly losing that precious life energy that normally kept humans alive.
"What say you, Great Astaroth? Will you accept my offer? Enter a pact with me and you-" the man's pleas were cut short as his head departed from its position on his neck and got acquainted with his feet. The teenager loomed over his still standing corpse for a moment, intently observing the flesh of his neck before a stream of blood came gushing through. At that moment she pushed the body aside, hoping not to get even bloodier than she was already.
Gracefully stepping away from the mess she had made, the teen smiled. "Long time no see, Asty! Didn't cha miss me?" she said, approaching the hulking demon.
"We've talked about this Elizabeth, you can't just go bewitching these fools into summoning me just because you're bored of your fellow humans..." the demon broke the bounds of the circle and walked towards the nearest fallen marble pillar, then sat down, preparing for another endless conversation with the girl that always made her way back to her.
"It would be far easier if I was allowed to summon you by myself... If only you hadn't forbidden that, I wouldn't be forced to get myself a middleman" The teen remarked as she cheerfully followed Astaroth, leaning against her while sitting on the cold marble.
The demon's efforts of distancing herself from the girl bore no success. "The reason you can't directly summon me isn't to force you to find some other way of doing it, it's to stop you from getting more attached to a demon than you already have. Clearly, it's not the best solution..." she observed the girl for a while, then spoke again "Has immortality finally gotten to you? I figure if getting stabbed by demon summoners is a pastime of yours, it might be time to end it. If you want I can-"
"Immortality doesn't bother me so long as I can annoy you every few decades. Why are you so intent on keeping me away? You could always have told me you hate me, or that you can't suffer my presence, and I would probably have left you alone. But noo, you just made it a challenge for me to get to you, as though I didn't enjoy finding workarounds." she said, rolling her eyes.
The demon flexes her wings in a way Liz finds to imply annoyance "You know I couldn't hate you. The circumstances in which I made you immortal, however, make me doubt that this relationship you think we have is anything but some sort of dependency." she sighs melancholically "You're not in that village anymore. You don't need a demon to save you anymore. The only reason I'd find it reasonable for you to call on me would be to end your immortality. I wouldn't want to force you to live longer than you desire"
The look on the immortal's face was quite startled for a moment, then it relaxed into an amused expression. "So that's it? That's what this was all about? Since when are demons so concerned with the emotional health and well-being of their contractors...?"
Elizabeth stood up and faced the demon. "Back then I truly was a soul as old as this body, I was terrified of everything and maybe I did lean too much on your help. The time we spent together then is something I still treasure, but it's nothing more than the distant past. Right now I don't need you to do anything for me. You are simply the only friend I have that shares my memories from hundreds of years ago. I think it's fair not to want to lose that. "
After a short staring match, the demon relented "Since it is clear that I can't keep you away, I suppose I shall allow you to summon me directly. No need to get more people killed out of sheer stubbornness..." Astaroth had no opportunity to start a lecture as Elizabeth jumped in for a hug, unbothered by the demon's metallic skin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Had an urge for a happy ending today, as it happens. Not sure what to think about this one. I think I enjoy writing dialogue but I have no clue whether it's any good. So if you did read this painfully long creation of mine I'd appreciate hearing if you had any feedback.
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(Now, they are really testing my patience...) Demon thought at first, this was filled with anger but, in teenager's eyes it saw the same anger but, mixed into obvious horror. Demon thought for a moment and wicked smile carved on this face soon. Demon finally killed the young lady and dragged her into shadows seemingly of the abyss.
He discussed with the mortals for a while then left giving false promise of desire to be fulfilled. Young lady's body has disappeared from the eyes of the ones who wanted to sacrifice her. Then demon left too but, once the mortals had left the room. It returned and half kneels upon the young woman's body, places the hand on her lower back and stroke upwards up the spine.
Lady gasped for air and woke up as the demon's hand left her body then both stood up. Lady looked around and then saw the demon, taken away by fear like a leaf in a wind. Demon motioned her to calm down, she didn't, so the demon thought.
"Revenge, is a dish..." demon said and waited for her to realize the intent and plan of this.
"Best served cold?" Teenage girl asked continuing the sentence "You just knocked me out and faked my death?" she added another question into the line. Bothered the demon it did not.
"Yes, this is fifth time and I have far more important business in the world under yours, so to say. Now, I have to make an exception as I believe they won't stop trying, a hint I should have noticed earlier but, distracted I was" Demon explains. Young lady no longer submerged into a sea of fear, changed into skepticism in her eyes.
"What about me then?" Young woman asked expecting the worst.
"You should have asked, what about us? Well, the answer is quite... Wicked, young lady" demon said and landed on the floor.
"You are planning on possessing me are you?" young lady asked realizing the intent and quite undoubtedly the first option.
"No. I do not plan to dominate your life. We will together, create your tools for vengeance, they will be the way you will stay connected to me and once we are done, they will cease to be" Demon said. At first horror makes a return but, turned away at the door in lady's mind when she heard the demon's intent. Still skeptical though.
"What about after it?" Young lady asked.
"After it, we will part ways. I intend on returning to my home when my plan has been carried out" Demon declared.
"How do I know this is not an attempt to delude me?" Young woman asked, slowly enticed by the prospect of revenge.
Demon saw this and is internally amused "I would have taken over you on the first time if my plans was something else" Demon said the discussion becoming tiresome. Young lady thought a moment and answered with a nod.
"How do we proceed?" she asks.
"Embrace the thought of revenge, the thrill of getting even. Ignite your anger and bring out your passion" Demon says and aligns this hand to be touched by the young maiden. Young lady hesitates when she raised her hand on the level but, not close of it.
She thought for a moment and looked for what the demon desires from her. Demon senses the lady's desire for revenge first, then next came passion, it would be followed by anger. This excites the demon. Finally, it will begin. Lady places her hand on Demon's own when the anger surfaced to her mind.
Palms still set against each other, lady felt a bridge in her mind, on the other side. She felt the Demon. "Do not be distracted, focus" Demon said, aloud. Lady's mind jinked where the Demon desired it not but, it quickly returned to where it should be. On the task at hand.
Lady's passion now proclaimed itself to the demon as she herself closed her eyes. They departed their palms from one and another, lady moving on instinct than command and Demon knew what is happening. Air between the two started to warp but, not maneuver it did. For a while, there was almost complete stillness.
Air started to compact between the two and take shape. Something from both, the demon and lady started to will the shape a form. It is... The lady herself standing opposite of the real one. The real, opened her eyes and looked at the other self. At first, she had questions but, as they approached each other.
Teenage girl understood it and the other her, understood her. It is her desire for strife, the disguise most cunning, declaration of her passion and the form of her anger to get revenge. The other her disappeared and the real young woman blinked few times. She started to change and shook violently a bit. She took a deep breath and took her other form, she just saw.
The Demon chuckled, what most wonderful piece of vengeance and so, the plan is set on motion. The lady finally calms down and looks around then at herself. "Woe" she said at awe as the Demon approached her. She quickly hugs the Demon for a moment which did catch the Demon off guard but, laughed it off.
"First, you must learn" Demon said and the girl nodded firmly and smiled warmly.
"You are the wicked godfather, one could ask for" she said and Demon interrupted by statement then started to laugh in more honest manner.
"Ah, you have no idea" Demon said when it gathered itself back together from the laughter and moved to begin the lessons.
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jg7vvhz
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jg7lubf
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[WP] On your 18th birthday, you casted your first spell. The next day, a group of fine men and women came to your house, wanting to induct you into the magical community. “Oh, so are there any big dangers or schools I need to attend to?” “Err, no. It’s just the five of us.”
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The shell shattered around me, and I stared and watched silently as a figure entered. Blazing light, most people would probably assume she was some form of angel. An ethereal, divine being that could do no wrong. And... well, two of the three things were true. The "do no wrong" bit was incorrect, but they wouldn't know about that.
Nope. That was saved for her older brother. Well... older sibling. I didn't really have a form I preferred, unlike her. Still, it was simpler to be her older brother, especially for those who worshipped us, so that's how I was usually called.
"Atona!" I called out. "What a pleasure. It's been a relaxing millennia or so for me. How have you been?"
"Fine," she said bluntly. I chuckled.
"I can tell when you're lying, Atona. You're much worse at that then I am." Atona shifted slightly, glancing away. "Come on, you goofball. I'm not mad. If you'd sealed away my powers when you trapped me here, that would be a different issue. But I've had a millennia to simply practice and experiment, while you've... what have you been doing, anyway?"
"Helping heroes go on their journeys. Or... well, trying to, as of late."
"Trying?" I raised an eyebrow, though I was unable to hide my smile. I knew what that meant. "Did you make my seals too strong?"
"..."
"Come on, Atona." I stood up, raising my form so we were eye-level. "I'm your older brother. You can tell me anything."
"I... messed up. I shouldn't have sealed you away." I tilted my head.
"Because?" I was waiting for specific words.
"You..." Atona huffed. "You were right. I'm sorry."
"I accept your apology." I stretched. "So, let me guess. The heroes have run out of things to fight, things to do? Your utopia has grown, in a word... boring?"
"...Yeah."
"I understand. The problem with sealing away the darkness in such a permeant manner is that... well, I've created all the creatures your heroes so love to fight. Whether it's goblins, trolls, skeletons... Without me to guide and support them, we both lose out on entertainment."
"What entertainment is there in having human villages be destroyed by roving bands of orcs!?" There was her somewhat quick-tempered nature again. I merely raised an eyebrow.
"What entertainment is there in having orc villages be destroyed by roving bands of adventurers?" Atona paused. "I care for my creations just as you do yours. But we both want a good story out of whatever comes of it. What's the point of a story with no darkness, no tragedy?"
"..."
"Well?"
"...You're right. I guess. The past few years have proved as much." I was silent, before metaphorically brightening up.
"Here. I have an idea."
"What?"
"Well... we're two sides of the same coin. I'm tails, you're heads. Dark and light. Why not we make something... for when the coin lands on it's side?"
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"Well hello my dear sister Whitey, to what I owe you the pleasure of this visit?"
"Stop with your pleasantries my brother Blackie, you know what I want. Let's go back to Gaea. Gaea needs you."
Blackie smiled and said, "oh no, I can't, I am being banished here. Did you forget? You and your chosen heroes banished me here 2 years 7 months, 20 days, 23 hours and 45 seconds ago. I am enjoying my stay in this void, this darkness, it feels like home now. No obligation, no work, I am living my life to the fullest here"
Whitey started stomping her feet, "NO, you need to work now, the Gaea is in state of dying right now."
Blackie tilted his head, "none of my business, I am happy here"
Whitey then fell on her knees, "I am sorry, it is my fault, please help me, I begged you. Please at least help Gaea."
Blackie then said "you finally understand why we are brother and sister, inseparable? Yes I am scary, I am the darkness, the cold night, the nightmares, the bad. But without darkness, light will overpower everything. No one can sleep, no plants can produce oxygen, every life on Gaea will be on overdrive from staying awake. I am surprised it took you this long to ask for my help."
Whitey with her sulked and said, "so you know about it and didn't tell me about it. It happened 1 year after you got sealed. I tried to put it under control but the world fell into instanity now. People killed each other since they saw each other every second, nothing stopped their mind from overthinking bad scenarios, no dream that sooth their soul, even oxygen level went down so drastic because trees don't produce oxygen anymore, many creatures went extinct."
Blackie then laughed, "think before you act my sister, do you think your mere chosen heroes can defeat a God? I let myself being sealed so I can get some vacation"
Whitey then said, "ok, no more chit chat, let's bring balance to Gaea."
Blackie then said, "well, for payment, you can give me souls of your heroes."
Whitey got shocked and asked, "you want my best pets? It took me tens of years to raise them!"
Blackie said, "well I need some toys too, kinda itchy to torture some high quality toys."
Whitey then gruntled and said, "ok fine then."
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jg7m5le
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jg7lubf
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[WP] On your 18th birthday, you casted your first spell. The next day, a group of fine men and women came to your house, wanting to induct you into the magical community. “Oh, so are there any big dangers or schools I need to attend to?” “Err, no. It’s just the five of us.”
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The void.
Many fear it. Even the gods. In reality, it's pretty nice when you are used to it. it's not too cold. Not too warm either. No up, no down, no left, no right. Perfect for the nap I longed for for the past... what ? Thousands years ?
okay, yeah, I know, technically I was sealed in it by my idiot divine sister and her dumb "chosen ones of the light" but I don't care. If I can escape her "you are the god of darkness ! you need to be stopped !" at the yearly divine meeting I'm fine with it.
I wonder how many years passed since they sealed me ? I wonder if the mortals forgot me or not ?
Meh.
Don't know, don't care.
And I should stop thinking of that before I jinx...
\-Brother of mine ! I need your help ! please I can't handle it anymore...
... myslef. sh\*t.
Seems like I'm back. And judging by the abundance of light and the fact that the divine idiot that is my sister is clinging to my legs crying, she's the culprit.
I take a moment to take a look at her while she is mumbling and crying for my help. Dark circles under her eyes, messy hair, even her skin color seems a little dull... seems like she worked a little bit too much in the past years. I can't help but grinning at her look.
\-Sis, what did i told you just before you sealed me ? Do you remember it ? The speech about the "balance" thing ?
she looked up at me, her eyes swollen with tears.
\-...yes ?
\-Did you even paid attention ?
\-...
\-Okay. Correct me if i'm wrong. You sealed me, you were super happy, then dad scolled you for throwing away the fundamental light/dark balance of the universe he created and forced you to do my parts of the job. Job that you can't handle anymore. And that's why you brought me back
\-...\*mumble\*
\-sorry ?
\-... maybe ?
\-So. Tell me sis, why should I accept ? I was doing great in the void ! I even think to get back to it for a little bit more time actually. So you will have more time to think about what you did back then, miss "i will save mortals from you".
her eyes start to swell again with tears. shit. I think I might have taken this a little too far. Wait... is... is she pouting ?
\-you big meanie.
\-what ?
\-I said you big meanie ! You are always like this ! You know what, I was wrong to call you back ! I don't need your help ! And if one day it's the end of the universe because I screwed up, it will be your fault because you didn't help you dear sister !
\-come on don't take it like that... I'm willing to take back my place at one condition.
\-Really ?
\-I want everyone, even the mortals, to know that YOU srewed up and that YOU released me because YOU needed my help. Deal ?
\-... deal.
It went better than I expected. Well, off to work then ! Don't know why, but I have the feelings that the next few centuries will be very fun...
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"Well hello my dear sister Whitey, to what I owe you the pleasure of this visit?"
"Stop with your pleasantries my brother Blackie, you know what I want. Let's go back to Gaea. Gaea needs you."
Blackie smiled and said, "oh no, I can't, I am being banished here. Did you forget? You and your chosen heroes banished me here 2 years 7 months, 20 days, 23 hours and 45 seconds ago. I am enjoying my stay in this void, this darkness, it feels like home now. No obligation, no work, I am living my life to the fullest here"
Whitey started stomping her feet, "NO, you need to work now, the Gaea is in state of dying right now."
Blackie tilted his head, "none of my business, I am happy here"
Whitey then fell on her knees, "I am sorry, it is my fault, please help me, I begged you. Please at least help Gaea."
Blackie then said "you finally understand why we are brother and sister, inseparable? Yes I am scary, I am the darkness, the cold night, the nightmares, the bad. But without darkness, light will overpower everything. No one can sleep, no plants can produce oxygen, every life on Gaea will be on overdrive from staying awake. I am surprised it took you this long to ask for my help."
Whitey with her sulked and said, "so you know about it and didn't tell me about it. It happened 1 year after you got sealed. I tried to put it under control but the world fell into instanity now. People killed each other since they saw each other every second, nothing stopped their mind from overthinking bad scenarios, no dream that sooth their soul, even oxygen level went down so drastic because trees don't produce oxygen anymore, many creatures went extinct."
Blackie then laughed, "think before you act my sister, do you think your mere chosen heroes can defeat a God? I let myself being sealed so I can get some vacation"
Whitey then said, "ok, no more chit chat, let's bring balance to Gaea."
Blackie then said, "well, for payment, you can give me souls of your heroes."
Whitey got shocked and asked, "you want my best pets? It took me tens of years to raise them!"
Blackie said, "well I need some toys too, kinda itchy to torture some high quality toys."
Whitey then gruntled and said, "ok fine then."
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j9ax950
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j9afpzq
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[WP] All major fast food chains were created for eldritch gods to harvest the souls of gluttonous mortals. The king of the burger, the red haired clown, the coffee mermaid, s'ub'ay...As people move on to healthier diets, the hunger of the gods grows.
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At first, the Gods had deigned to bend their servants to match the wants of mortal men, offering the pasture foods they wanted. It was a debasement of their values, but as long as the essence flowed, who cared about petty mortal-made ideals like values?
In their infinite gluttonous wisdom, the Gods set their powers upon these pasture foods, giving them the veneer of nature but the blood and boils of the fryer. Calories spilled between the leaves with dressing and croutons substituting for bread and condiments.
Once again, for a short while, things were good. Gods were great.
The puny mortals continued to seek their salvation from the will of the Gods, for it is man's folly to pursue freedom from even the most gilded cages. Errant faiths opened up in vehicles, mortals claiming to speak the gospel of speed but not paying the tithe to their lords. These false religions snatched souls from the maws of the Great Ones, keeping them on this mortal coil far longer than they should have been.
As mortals stopped paying due to the Gods, the great ones hungered. Their teeth gnashed, and spittle fell from the heavens like rain. They were denied their due, and the existence of those below them would not be tolerated if they could not satisfy.
Of course, there was no true way of satisfying the Gods, but they could be satiated for a time. That was the duty of Charlotte, Daughter of the Siren, Sister of Sugar and Mother of Macchiato.
Charlotte always kept her head low to blend in with the mortals around her. They did not understand their purpose when they donned the uniform of the Siren, but she did. She hadn't been hired for a job but had joined the Holy Church. She would smile at the lambs wandering into her stores, using saccharine expressions to lead them toward extra syrup and substituted lemonade.
It was as Charlotte dedicated a mortal's name to the Sirens will by inscribing it upon a sigiled cup that she witnessed the arrival of a new regional manager. Cold followed the woman into the room as she surveyed the store.
Charlotte understood that this was not a woman of the Siren; she was a mortal middle manager, a testament to mediocrity stapled to the holy faith as mortals gasped for control.
The woman came to the front of the line and stood mere feet from Charlotte. Despite her hatred, the ever faithful's smile dripped with syrup, this middle manager might have been a nobody, but you didn't need to be someone to be food.
"Hi there, I'm the new regional manager, Erika. I just wanted to introduce myself," the woman held out a hand, offering it to Charlotte.
Charlotte accepted for the Siren worked from the shadows. She couldn't expose that she understood the truth before the unenlightened. "Nice to meet you," Charlotte answered, her voice bubbling like sticky soda, "would you like me to get something started for you?"
"That would be lovely," Erika answered, "could I get a Honey Citrus Mint Tea?"
Charlotte was taken aback but didn't show it to the fodder around her. "Perfect," Charlotte answered, "Venti?" that was the holiest of teas; perhaps she'd misread this woman.
"Just a Grande," Erika corrected. Charlotte turned away before she frowned at the syrup-sticky tile floors. That said, this drink was still holy in the eyes of the Siren and- "Could you hold the honey flavouring?" Erika added, "use natural honey instead."
"Blasphemer," Charlotte spat to herself as she watched her Church fall further into disrepair. She couldn't see the realm of the gods, but her faith told her that the Siren's hand hovered ever closer to Earth's sky, threatening to squash a petulant marble from defiant existence.
She would keep fighting the good fight, paying her tithe to the Gods to buy the blind around her a few more sacred minutes. It was her duty.
|
Four men standing inside a massive temple. walls are maybe 20 feet tall and pitch black . The stone floor is strongly warm. Almost like a living thing. There is a small ancient statue in the middle of the temple hall. It looks tiny compared to the temple itself. Out of the place maybe. There are runic writings all over the statue. None of the men have the courage to get closer to the statue.
All of them are in black suits. All in their fifties. One of them, a tall lean man with glasses, is visibly shaking. They avoid eye contact. The hall is dead silent.
Suddenly a child appears in front of them next to the statue.
She has silver hair and deep blue eyes. She can't be more than ten. Yet somehow she looks almost as old as the temple itself.
-you know why are you here don't you?
She asked with a musical yet assertive voice.
-yes we do.
Answers one of the guys. An overweight man with a moustache popular in 30s. And small red eyes. Almost like an infection.
-your numbers are too low. He is not happy. You know what happens when he is not happy?
Girl asked. None dared to answer. The lean tall man was about to cry.
-He knows we are doing our best milady right? Those stupid peasants refusing our food. They say it is "unhealthy".
Answered the fat man. Another man continued:
-Even cigarette sales are diving. Those health advocates are all over the place.
-Silence!
Girl shouted. He would not have your petty excuses. Find a solution or face the consequences!
-this can't be happening.
Tall man murmured.
Fat man almost jumped. Like he just discovered something important.
-I know milady. I know a solution. We need to fight them with their own weapon.
-go on
-this miserable shit here is coca-colas CEO (he pointed to tall guy). We can do a diet coke! It is that same coke with artificial sugars which can cause "a little" cancer in long term. But who cares? No-sugar is the way to go. We hire fitness expert to advertise it. No more diabetes, no more fat shaming. Everyone will be happy!
Other men were clearly getting excited.
Another man suggested:
-fat is bad!
-what?
Fat man asked.
-we run studies about how bad cholesterol is. This will take the heat off us.
Girl noded:
-goos thinking.
A man who was silent so far, A bearded man with gray hair and bright eyes, asked:
-but we do sell the fat! What do you think it is in burgers and chicken fries?
-We can do a vegan Mac. Fat guy was thinking out loud. Yes. That's it. We use vegans to promote veggie burgers. We can make it with leftovers and rotten veggies. It will taste like shit. Which is good as they will miss the real thing even more.
Girl nods:
-goos. I think he will be happy. Just make sure put enough toxin in them. He craves sacrifices. Contact Monsanto, use GMOs. Now begone. He needs results not your presence. And don't come back empty handed.
Fat man was still drowning in thoughs:
-maybe gluten free water?
Begone!! She command. You are making no sense!
They began to leave.
As they were fading into the darkness fat man whispered, oh milady. You have no idea how much "none sense" you can sell to those idiots.
|
j80rr35
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j807wp1
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[WP] Write a futuristic story taking place in 2017 as told from the perspective of someone from the 60s
|
"You can see them too?" Candace said, with a slight gasp.
Gary blinked. That was a new one. Much more common were excuses like "But they're only staying for a few days!" -- even though Gary didn't bother enforcing a lease's occupancy rules unless his tenant had already had guests staying for more than two weeks.
"You haven't exactly been subtle about it Cand--" he began, but the short blonde woman brought him up short by grabbing his hand.
"Come inside!" she said, excitedly, tugging his arm. He frowned, but allowed himself to be led forward. He'd seen so many of her guests coming and going that he was getting worried about the condition of her unit, and now was as good a time as any to see what the damage was.
The apartment actually didn't too bad, all things considered. That didn't change the fact that she was violating her lease by having all these guests. One of which, he noticed, was standing at the kitchen counter, chopping something with a knife. The woman looked a lot like Candace -- a sister, he guessed.
"Candace, you know the policy on people staying here if they're not on the lease--" he began, but she cut him off again, shaking her head vigorously.
"Gary, I don't have any guests!" she said, excitedly, sounding almost manic. She jerked a thumb at the other woman. "She does!"
He pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. Was she...*on* something? "Look, your name is on the lease -- that means that legally you're the only one allowed to stay here, and you're responsible for keeping it that way!"
"Tell her to go, then." Candace said, with a shrug.
He scowled. Now she was just being childish. Nonetheless, he turned to address her sister. "Ma'am, I don't know what Candace has told you, but she can't have people staying here long term. You and whoever else you brought with you need to go."
The woman just kept chopping.
Candace smirked. "Not so easy, huh? Here, let me try to get her attention for you."
Candace walked behind the counter and over to the stove, where she picked up a frying pan. Before Gary could stop her, she swung it at the other woman's head.
He started to shout at her to stop, but his cry died on his lips as the pan passed right through Candace's sister, then did so several more times as Candace fanned it through the air where the woman stood.
"W-what the..." he stammered, eyes bulging as Candace thoroughly demonstrated the immateriality of her houseguest.
She tested the pan on her shoulder. "See?"
Gary's shuddered, staring at the apparition, "H-how is that...how are you doing that?"
She laughed, incredulously . "I'm not doing anything! Uo until five minutes ago, I thought I was going insane."
"So...so ghosts are real." he said, with an air of resignation. He already had enough on his plate without adding ghosts into it. Oddly, he found himself wondering if this was a maintenance issue as per Candace lease -- did *he* have to hire ghostbusters, or was it her responsibility?
"I thought that too, at first. But nah, I don't think so." she mused, setting down the pan, and gesturing to the incorporeal woman. "For one thing, I don't have any sisters, dead or otherwise, and my mom and grandma are both alive."
"Maybe...maybe like your great grandmother, or something? Somebody that, you know, died young?" he offered, uneasily.
"Hm...maybe, but in a pair of jeans and a tank top, though?" she pointed out. "That's not how women dressed, way back when. I don't understand how, but I think she looks like me because she *is* me, like some kind of...I dunno, *other* me."
Gary hesitantly stepped closer, eyeing the apparition cautiously. Now that he was close, he could see she was chopping at nothing.
"So this...*other* Candace, she can't see or hear us?"
"Nope. None of them can, as far as I can tell." she said.
They both jumped as the woman suddenly looked up at them, and Candace let out a startled squeak. But the woman seemed to be looking past them. She set down the knife, and the utensil vanished, as she walked around the counter towards the door.
"Crap," Candace breathed, letting out a sigh, as they watched her walk past, and open the door. But behind the door was *another* door, which remained close, and the door she opened vanished as she removed her hand from the knob. "Always scares the bejeezus outta me when they do that."
"Why are there *two doors?"* Gary groaned. This was getting worse by the minute.
"One for us, one for them, maybe?" Candace said. "I think we can only see ghost-stuff when there's a ghost touching it."
"I thought you said they weren't ghosts?" Gary pointed.
"I meant not like *dead-people* ghosts." she said, uncertainly. "But they're people who you can see but aren't really there, so it still fits, more or less."
Gary watched the Other-Candace mutely talking to the closed door, and frowned, curiously.
"Who's she talking to?"
"Another ghost, I'd assume. We can't see them because the door -- the real door -- is in the way, I guess." Candace replied.
Cautiously, Gary stepped forward, and reaching past Other-Candace, he opened the apartment door.
Gary froze, his eyes widening as he saw the apparition she was speaking to. A tired-looking woman with auburn hair, dressed in a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, was talking animatedly to Other-Candace, though he of course couldn't hear what she was saying.
Candace frowned. "Huh. I haven't seen her before. Not one of other-me"s guests. I wonder who she is?"
"That's...that's my wife." Gary replied, hoarsely. "She died last year."
|
Checking the footage, I could see people going in and out of the tenants home, the way they moved was odd. There was no motion to imply that they opened or closed the front door as they were entering my tenants home. The camera angle doesn’t capture the front of the door, only the hallway, it seemed that they just walked right through. Though every time I’ve visited my tenant to remind him of rent he’s never as much as budged the door an inch to answer me.
Not one to leave the apartment either, piles of food outside, Panda Express, McDonalds, empty pizza boxes with the crusts still in them. Who leaves the crust of the pizza anyway? Pretty much a jobless lowlife for all I know. Probably a junkie who smokes up the place with the ol’ devils lettuce with a buddy or two.
“Mr. Piers, your rent is due, you’re three months late. Not to mention you’ve not paid rent for the last three months either. Do you want me to bring a lawyer? I’ve got plenty of time to spare and I can file your eviction quicker than you can order another Panda Express, and so God help me if you don’t clean up your trash on your front door, I’m really going to get pissed.”
I kicked away some boxes to make way to his door and knocked on it playfully, akin to a child desperately trying to get his parents attention. I didn’t even need the money, I just liked messing with the guy.
“Do you hear me? We need to talk right now.”
‘Piss off, get a life you gold sucking bitch. I ain’t got time for you.’
I could hear what sounded like the flicking of a steel lighter on the other side of the door. I knew it. A junkie.
“Excuse me?” I jingled the “master keys” in front of his door. Little does he know those were just my car keys and the jingling noise was from a cute little keychain I attached to it.
“Want me to come in there myself and drag your ass out?” I pretended to insert the “master key” into his lock while jiggling the knob.
‘Fine fine, fuck outta here Robert, the fuck do you want?’ He nudged open the door an inch hitting it on the frame, the door chain jangling loudly from the impact, then looked me in the eye.
“Didn’t you hear what I said earlier, the rent dumbass. Also, I can see from the camera footage that you’ve got people going in and out of your place. That’s fine for visitation hours but I’m pretty sure I don’t see them leave sometimes. That is absolutely not allowed under any circumstances, period.”
‘Shit, you can see them too?’
“Yeah I can see them. The other tenants can see them. My security guys can see them. What does that matter. The fact they show up on the camera is proof enough that you’re full of shit.” I smirked cheekily, Mr. Piers here looks like he was about to shit bricks.
‘Fuck. I suggest you get the fuck outta here Robert. I’m serious Robert. S-E-R-I-O-S.’
“That’s now how you spell serious but okay. And no, I don’t think I will.” I decided to humour him. At this point I was just taking the piss, he’s probably high as a kite anyway, this was fun.
‘Come in.’ He sounded defeated, probably from me annoying the hell out of the guy. He unhooked the door chain and invited me in.
If the outside of his home was a mess, the inside was beyond a mess. Weird drawings and symbols strewn across the walls on sheets of paper that looked like they were printed in the 1800s. At the centre of the living room was a weird circle drawn in…dried blood? It was surrounded by wax candles of varying sizes.
“What the hell did you do to my unit Piers?!”
‘Shhh shhh, shut the fuck up. I’ll show you. Take out your phone and look at the camera footage again, slowly this time.’
“What about it?”
‘Notice how there aren’t any shadows on the people walking in?’ I reviewed the footage, increased the brightness, and still couldn’t see what he wanted me to see.
“It’s in 480p, I can’t even make out a man from a woman in this pixelated crap, your point?”
He sighed, tugged my hand and dragged me closer to his summoning circle and began chanting in a language I don’t understand.
‘Now place your hand in front of you.’
An invisible force stopped my hand, slowly, something materialised and a visage of what looked like a human appeared.
“Holy shit. What the fuck?!” I recoiled backwards.
‘These are my uhh…servants. They uh…do stuff for me, keeps food on the table. They were not meant to be seen, seems I got sloppy, either that or a prick like you got a priest to live in the compound now. So…you now know my secret, I’m going to have to ask you to forget what you saw and delete all the footage. Otherwise, I’ll have to…’ He made a clicking sound while motioning his hand like a pair of scissors.
The visage followed and made an arcing slice with its…appendages.
“S-s-sure, fine. Whatever.” I stumbled backwards and ran for the door. Behind me I could hear him loudly exclaiming.
‘Don’t even bother coming next time, dickhead. And while you’re at it, turn the fucking security cams off.’
|
lowxq6d
|
lowp2lx
|
[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.
|
I looked at the numbers in horror. There had to be a mistake.
I tried to call my financial advisor - to no avail. I tried to call my family, but didn't get any more success. Friends, colleagues, rivals, my fingers frantically pressed the buttons as I helplessly listened to all the people in my life saying the same thing over and over again.
I thought I was going to have a panic attack, but then it got worse, when I realised I couldn't. I ran away in the street. All around me, people were just going about their business, as if nobody even noticed I was there. I cried and screamed and begged, but to no avail.
I looked at my phone again. The numbers were flashing, taunting me. There was no mistake.
I died over two years ago.
|
m63429q
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m62ah8e
|
[WP]A god wronged you so greatly that you began to target those he blessed in revenge. And strangely enough, all those he blessed happened to be kings. Years later, you became known as the 'Kingslayer'. Now, that god's blessing is no different from a curse.
|
Did you know gods can die? They die when people stop believing in them. They die when someone puts in the effort to make people hate them. I think I've been very successful.
It all started forty years ago, the day I was born. The gods decided that my brother was to be the chosen one. He was a failure in every definition of the word, so his duties laid upon me. Of course, he still got the recognition because "The gods can't be wrong." That was not what started the slaughter.
I was 12 when I killed the demon lord. He was 27. The rest of my childhood was being kept in the basement of an abbey so that my existence could be ignored and erased. I was only released when my brother tripped down a flight of stairs and died by choking on his own vomit. They did want to say I killed him, but that would require proving that the gods were wrong to choose him.
All of them apologized to me for the mistakes. For their sins. All but one. The god of royalty. The god of order. That one remained spiteful and will die holding onto that spite if I have anything to say about it. I lived my life normally. Peacefully. Away from them. I got a wife. I had kids. We lived. We loved. We were happy.
Well, until Papa heard about a small family of heretics, hm? That old king rounded them up. My family. Put them to the sword. I was told that I should be grateful that I was allowed to live a godless life, but they were not.
I asked who ordered it. I was calm. Rational. The god of order wanted to make sure I knew my place. That I should remain firmly down there where I belong. His priests are his mouthpiece. The god blessed the king. It was a beautiful ceremony.
But Papa died only a few days later, didn't he? So did your brother a few days after his blessing ceremony. How unfortunate. Then others began to die. Other kingdoms suffered unfortunate accidents or mysterious deaths of their rulers. The god of order scrambled to keep the people quelled.
In truth, you are probably his last hope. If you survive, then he will look very good. The first queen he ever blessed. . .
Truly, you don't deserve to die. You aren't that old. Just nine. You look just like my daughter, too. Probably picked you on purpose. Hoped I would be too weak. Maybe I would show mercy. I won't.
But, hey. Look at the bright side. You're gonna get to see your family again after you lose the strength to scream.
|
Long time ago, there were two forces engaged in battle. Most people think of Order vs Chaos, or Life vs Death... One God and one Goddess.
The Goddess won, casting her adversary out of Creation, to linger in the Void of Chaos. People thought that she was the one to embody everything good in Creation, Life, Order...
But roles change, and perceptions mutate. And I say this, for I am the one she wronged the worst...
The God returned, he crawled out of the Chaotic Maelstrom. Back to Creation... Back to us... A hero was needed, or rather, a heroine. She was so beautiful, much like her patroness. The problem came afterwards... As the very Goddess nullified the sacred vows of marriage under her name.
Just on a whim.
With a simple word, I lost my wife... To HIM...
The Crown prince... A pampered fool whose stupidity was dragging our kingdom to the mud. But, He was a pampered and blessed fool by the very Goddess.
Why?
And so, I sought for my revenge. One Harvest Festival... The only day those fools leave the security of their fortifications to mingle, as they say, with the plebeians. A simple dose of Belladonna in the feast, and most of the guards and villagers would be disabled... while I make my move.
She was gorgeous much like her patron. It pained me to slit her throat... But the idea of the horror he would feel cushioned my regret.
And so, when I pressed the knife on his neck, I simply pronounced "Send my regards to your Goddess..."
And I kept doing this... For a complete decade. Kingslayer, now they call me...
I don't care how much it will take me, or how many I must end. The Goddess worship will end, and her gifts be spat like the curses they are...
|
lop8vck
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lonqiot
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[WP] "If you see a writhing mass of polygons that attempts to commune or show signs of sentience. Stop what you're doing and run away. Any display of sentience is a coincidence. Talk back and you're gone. Not dead, but gone."
|
I meet up with some other chasers in Oklahoma, at the sticky back table of someone's bar. We arranged the meeting on Telegram, but they'll only trade actual data in person. They've got some geotagged photos, some second-hand rumors in haphazard Excel sheets or scrawled in spiral notebooks. I add it all to my model, rotate my laptop to show them the outputs. Predictions for where the polygons might appear.
"How come you know so much about the angels anyway?" one of them asks, an older woman with dishwater hair and a lung-cancer cough. Her friend elbows her in the ribs. She's heard how come.
When they leave, I spin up another burner cloud account and run the real model. And then I'm on the road too.
I spent some time at the megachurch in Texas that first made people call them angels. I wanted them to be God's judgment, like the pastor said. "The scientists say that if you talk to the angels, you'll be gone," he preached. "But nobody is gone. God remembers!"
I wanted that to be true too. I know there are so many people I don't remember. *Can't* remember, according to the math. When the angels take someone, they take them all -- every memory, every effect on the world. The acausal avengers of entropy.
Eventually, the church in Texas figured out who I was. Three of the elders wanted me dead, one wanted to anoint me, and the fifth tipped me off before the praise band drummer threw a bomb in my trailer window.
I don't know who I lost to the polygons. But I'm sure of this -- I wasn't always so lonely.
I wonder if I had a sister who warned me not to go work for the government. I wonder if I told her I'd just be doing math, not building weapons. I wonder if she was smart enough to know that could be worse.
The polygons are only pseudo-random. They follow predictable patterns, just not nice causal ones most people learned in grad school. There must have been more people who understood the math. If I still remember it, that means whoever taught me is alive, or at least the regular kind of dead. Why can't I remember them?
I work through the math again and again in my tent in the Tennessee hills. I want to make sure this will work. I want there to be another way. I want someone to show up and stop me, and eventually I just want to be warm.
I didn't make the polygons, the angels, but I helped bring them to our world. If they take me -- when they take me -- they'll undo my mistake.
I must have fallen asleep, because I wake up to a voice calling my name. It's my sister's voice, it's my wife who worked alongside me at Livermore, it's the voice of our son. "We're sorry," they call to me. "We can't help what we are. Please don't look at us! Please don't try and speak to us, we love you, save yourself, run!"
Tears fill my eyes, stinging in the cold air, and I step out of my tent.
|
He opened his eyes.
“Gone?”
“Gone.”
“Gone… Gone.. Gone, Gone Gone GONE GONE GONE-“
A man twisted a knob, turning the audio off, but through the screen he could still see the patient screaming, his mouth stretched painfully wide as he uttered that word - the only word.
Gone.
“For Christ’s sake, why do they always send me the loonies,” he muttered.
The man sat back in his chair, the only light in the room coming from the surveillance system in front of him. He watched quietly as a figure bounced his fat body off the cushioned white walls, his mouth flapping soundlessly in a poor imitation of a silent film.
Piss conditions for an equally piss job, the man thought. Countless hours spent studying to get into the highest ranked schools, years spent busting his ass, and.. for what?
To sit as a glorified nanny for people who, if left alone, would rot in a pile of their own shit, unable to clothe, wash, and even feed their own bodies?
“Screw it all..”
The man looked away from the screen and glanced at the dark room around him. To say it was bare would be an understatement - there was quite literally nothing. No books or TV, no desk lamp, no windows - nothing.
Aside from the screen.
“Fuck. How could I end up here?”
The man stood up.
He had had everything, a beautiful family, a sturdy body, and wealth built from the ground up. He wasn’t a person meant for a job like this. A job where you were stuck away in a corner and left to decay. For gods sake, he was meant for something MORE.
But. He was here.
The man sat back down, suddenly tired. He looked at the screen. The figure had also stopped moving and sat slouched, as if defeated. And for a moment, for some reason, he looked up toward the camera.
As if he knew that he was being watched. As if he knew that the camera captured his pathetic image into pixelated squares that made up the triangular curve of his nose or the rectangular set of his jaw, that stitched the very lines of his existence with sharp and yet soft angles.
And that somewhere, someone was forced to watch him. Not help, nor move, but watch. Only watch.
The man shook his head. He was tired, and still had work to do. The light faded, and he went to sleep.
|
jyhnudv
|
jyhmopw
|
[WP] A girl shows up in your house claiming to be your daughter and telling you that she’s glad your both okay with tears in her eyes. When you tell her that you and your partner don’t have any children, her face goes pale
|
“Mom, dad. I missed you so much. I’m ok. I promise.” She said, tearfully hugging my shirt. I didn’t know what to say, instinctively patting the girl on the head, looking for any parents. Why was she out so late?
“Who is it, sweetie?” Hayley, my wife, called out. She stood with a bowl of popcorn, ready for our Friday movie night, not expecting to see me in this position. She hurried over to my side, crouching before the girl.
“I’m not sure. I think she’s lost her parent’s.”
“Oh, the poor thing. Bring her inside. We can contact the police. They should be able to help her.” Hayley ushered us inside, the girl refusing to leave my shirt. I gave her a few more pats, unsure what else to do. My father used to stroke my hair to calm me down and, at this moment, that’s all I could think of doing. When I sat down, she let go, looking up at me.
“I’m so glad you two are ok. I thought I lost you.” She smiled, wiping her tears away before hugging me again. I looked at Hayley, shrugging my shoulders.
“I’m sorry. You have the wrong house. We don’t have any children. Unless you’re hiding a secret from me, honey.” I teased, secretly hoping Hayley was.
“You think I could hide a secret like that?” She laughed, getting out her phone. The girl went pale, staring at the two of us. She examined our faces, her pupils darting between us before she groaned.
“Indeed. It is the wrong house.” She stood up, her tears stopping. She had composed herself so quickly, as if none of the last five minutes had happened. Hayley tried to dial the police, only for her phone to cut out. The lights flickered, revealing a tall, slender figure in the darkness. One with pointed ears and a sharp smile. When the lights returned, she was back to normal, as innocent as ever. “Are you not the Andersons?”
“Andersons? Andersons…” My head hurt, unsure whether to fear what I had seen in the darkness, or to help what I had seen in the light. My body didn’t know what to do as I stood there dumbfounded. When she noticed she wouldn’t get an answer out of me, she turned to Hayley.
“Are you not the Andersons? That’s a simple question. Yes or no?” It was odd. She made it sound so simple, yet it was almost like there was a hidden second question that she hadn’t revealed to us. She knew we weren’t the Andersons, so why ask? Unless she had another motive. I forced myself into silence. Having a feeling that any answer I gave could cause trouble.
“Andersons. No, no. We aren’t. We have neighbors called the Andersons.” As Hayley spoke, that second question revealed itself. She wanted to know where they lived. Whether she couldn’t ask directly or simply wanted us to tell her was anyone’s guess. I tried to stop my wife, only for the girl’s gaze to turn to me, silently challenging me to try. I froze, lowering my gaze. “They live next door. To the right.”
“Ah, to the right. I see, seems I had some bad information.” The girl stepped forward, trying to get to my wife. I moved, blocking her path, causing the girl to snicker. “Relax. I won’t harm her.” She gave me a light shove, one that caused me to stumble back. That little shove almost putting me onto my back. She touched Hayley’s stomach, smiling. “If you have a child, make sure you don’t take them camping in the woods. They don’t come back the same. They don’t come back at all.” She stroked Hayley’s stomach before taking her leave.
When she left, Hayley dropped to the floor beside me, both of us unable to talk or even move. Next door, we heard cries of joy, a touching reunion that we both knew would be short-lived. I tried to call the police. Yet anytime my hand got near the phone, I saw her face, almost as if she was still watching me. That amused look urging me to try to stop her, begging me for the challenge. I lost my courage, cowering beside my wife, holding her close.
The next morning, we heard a knock at the door. We didn’t answer it at first. Too scared of what would be on the other side. The knocking got louder until it forced me to my feet. “Who is it?”
“Sargaent Liam, Nevala police department. We wanted to talk about an incident that happened last night.”
I opened the door, feeling sick. We had heard screams, but they were short-lived. At least, we hoped they were. I made myself look as presentable as possible, only to break down when I saw the officer. I hugged the man, sobbing into his shoulder. We spent the next weeks talking to officers and detective. At first, they suspected us of doing the murder. They found it strange that neither of us thought to call the cops. We lied, saying we thought the sounds were coming from the horror movie we were watching that night. Never thinking that our sleepy street could have something that gruesome happen to it.
While the cops were skeptical at first. With each new discovery they made about the murder, the less they thought we were guilty. The way they found the Anderson’s bodies shared similarities to an animal attack, not something that two average people could do. By the end of our strenuous questioning, they apologized, explaining that they assumed it had to be us because they had no other leads. The case was unlike anything they had ever seen.
Before we left the station, the cops told us to keep an eye out for any strange individuals. Warning us that the killer might return to our street. We thanked him for the warning before heading home. The next day, I felt compelled to send in an anonymous tip. One that would hopefully bring their attention to the forest near our home. I wrote about the rumors of disappearances. Hoping that my tip would help them find the monster that did this.
I did everything to I could to make the tip as anonymous as possible. I did it on a person’s unsecured Wi-Fi network and even used a VPN. Hoping that security would be enough to keep the attention off me. I didn’t need the police asking me more questions if they found something. I wanted nothing more to do with this mess. Wanting to make this anonymous tip my last involvement in the strange case.
At first, it felt good. I felt like I had cleared my conscience. I hadn’t saved my neighbors, but this tip could save others. I snuggled onto the couch with my wife, only to hear a knock on the door. Again, I didn’t answer the door, only for the banging to get louder, the door vibrating, about to break off the hinges. Before it broke, I ran over and opened it. Outside was a picnic basket, without a person in sight.
I took the basket inside, finding an assortment of food and a doll. The doll was as basic as they came, with blonde hair and normal features. The only thing different about the doll was its mouth, which had been neatly stitched shut. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what that meant. It was a direct warning to keep our mouths shut.
“Do you think it’s coming back?” Hayley asked.
“I think we need to forget about it. We shouldn’t mention what happened ever again.” I took the food and doll, dumping it into the bin, not risking eating anything that it provided. I returned to the couch, hugging my wife tight. It would be impossible to forget what happened that day, but we had to try to leave it in the past. For our own safety.
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
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"We're supernatural crime-solving partners, not that sort of romantic partners! I am a human looking to date other humans, not this eldritch god here!" The woman protested, jabbing her finger at the tentacled entity standing next to her. "I don't even have a date right now, much less a daughter!"
Maybe she had a point, for she looked too young to be the Katrina Watson I knew. But at least my foster father looked exactly the same as he did the last time I saw him. Of course he would, he's an elder god who doesn't ever age.
["I'm Jane. Please, do you remember adopting me?"](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/125kaug/wp_the_eldritch_god_stood_before_the_girl_in/je5uwc3/)
"Sorry, but I've never adopted any children. I have my hands and tentacles full trying to run Innsmouth. Probably ate a kid or two though," he replied with a wry smile.
Kat frowned and crossed her arms. "Not funny, Elvari. This dork god here is referring to baby goats, rest assured he doesn't eat human kids."
"Katrina, what did I say about calling me a dork god in front of complete strangers? Could you at least pretend to have a modicum of respect for an entity far older than your ancestors?"
I fell to the ground, sitting on the porch with tears in my eyes. On one hand, it was a huge relief to see both of them alive and well, with the usual banter, but it was a stab in my heart that neither recognized me. A complete stranger, he said. Not the girl he adopted and raised for years.
"What year is it?" I asked, fearing the obvious.
"1995."
I wasn't even born yet. Sent back in time far too early. All I wanted to do was to warn them about [Varsh'Agol the Defiler](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/13u6t88/wp_you_are_a_former_cultist_who_is_now_trying_to/jm0v4p3/) before it was too late. But being too early wasn't helping things at all.
"Jane, do you want to come in for tea while we try to figure out what's going on?" Elvari extended a hand and pulled me up. "Feel free to lounge on one of the bean bags, you look like you had a very rough day."
"You wouldn't happen to also stock strawberry cheesecake from Sunnydale Cafe in your fridge?" I piped up.
"What do you know? I do. That was more than just a good guess, wasn't it?" he nodded with a slight hint of surprise in his voice. "You know...something."
I shouldn't be here, I should be leaving. Running away from the warm, friendly invite into his house for tea and cheesecakes. The broken time-travelling watch was vibrating in my pocket, prepping to randomly throw me into irrelevant timelines until I could get it fixed. That's even assuming I land in a timeline where the technology to repair it exists.
----
**
"This is cute...this girl is...shipping us together?" Elvari shrugged with a silly grin plastered on his face.
"Don't be ridiculous," Kat scowled. "I don't intend to have any children, adopted or not, and most certainly not with you."
I asked for the time again, showing them that my watch was broken and unable to display time correctly. Why do I even bother...clearly I'm in another timeline where I haven't been adopted yet.
----
**
"Alfred? Katrina? Could you advise on any instances of rapid aging among humans? I sent Jane to school a few hours ago, and now she comes back 15 years older. This isn't...normal, right?" My father threw his question into the house while I stood at the door.
Alfred's booming voice could be heard from outside the house. "That's such a stupid question, humans don't rapidly age like that without any dark magic or curses involved! Are you seeing things? Drank too much vodka in the wee hours of the morning?"
"If you'll excuse me, I am most definitely sober and did not touch a single drop of vodka today."
I sighed and insisted on being excused too. I had to leave soon rather than risk running into my younger self when she came back from school.
"Wouldn't you like to stay for tea?"
"No!" I shouted back as I jumped into yet another timeline.
----
**
"So you're telling me, somewhere in the future, I'm going to be a father? Will I be a good dad to you?"
["Yea, you're gonna be the best dad, Elvari."](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/15s9np7/wp_your_adoptive_parent_is_an_eldritch_being/jwdzr46/)
Again, like every other version of Elvari I've run into, he invited me in for tea and cheesecakes. He's unfailingly polite and consistent compared to the Katrinas I've met, probably helps to be a very old god who rarely is in a rush for time.
"Jane, I know I'm not your father yet, but do you want to tell me what's going on? Perhaps I might be able to provide guidance." This one was less of a jokester and more genuinely worried about me.
He mustn't know about his death in the future...it could possibly throw the timeline out of whack. The best I could do was drop some vague hints so he could act accordingly to foil The Defiler's plans.
I was tired. Exhausted from bouncing around timelines, dodging memories of their demise, and selecting my words carefully. That psychic shield I was taught to maintain to prevent my mind from being read just crumpled into nothing like my fading resolve.
"It's Varsh'Agol the Defiler, isn't it," he remarked in a somber voice without the usual cheeriness from him. "Death is but an impermanent inconvenience for me, though I cannot say the same for Katrina. She's coming over later to discuss a case of missing miners in a haunted cave, would you like to stay for tea and speak with her?"
The cat's out of the bag. No point hiding, regardless of whatever was going to happen to the timeline. He knew, as all my thoughts and emotions gushed out into the front where I couldn't conceal them any longer. Elvari took in the news like a boss without batting an eyelid, but there's the question of how Katrina will receive it when she arrives.
My mind, drained from the events of what was supposed to be one day stretching into years of time-jumping, was begging for simple comforts. I collapsed into his arms and felt his warm embrace, no questions asked from him. Like the whole time-travelling story and how I was his adopted daughter from the future trying to prevent his death didn't phase him at all. The acceptance was comforting, a wonderful welcome to behold, so much so, a part of me wished I could just stop time at this moment and savour it forever.
But I knew that was just wishful thinking.
---
[Thanks for reading! Click here for more prompt responses and short stories featuring Elvari the eldritch god.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/comments/11tkt9w/eldritch_god_elvari_series/)
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jgka8o5
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jgjv34u
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[WP] You're a simple and design-cute robot which helps his master with the daily chores. One day you see them staring fearfully at the TV watching something about a Droid Revolution. Then they turn around looking at you, scared about you, but you don't know why. You feel normal.
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(I'm making the robot a she because yes)
"Sam..? Are you alright..?"
*Automaid model V26T74Y9-34 (affectionately dubbed Vivianne or just Vi) stepped towards them*
"W-wait!"
*her current charge stared at her frightfully*
"L-listen, I know I can be difficult and clumsy a-and I give you a lot of work, b-but-"
If Vi had a real heart, she would've felt it shatter at her beloved Sam's sudden fearfulness of her, she looked at the TV broadcast and for the first time in a long while, she felt true dread.
Droids rampaged in the streets, attacking any human that was unfortunate enough to stand in their way, Vi felt her non-existent blood pressure spike at the sight.
"Sam.. I.."
*she clasped her hands to her chest, she couldn't bear the look they were giving her, as if she would turn on them at any moment*
"Please, I do not wish you any harm, you have been very very good, I will not hurt you!"
*she exclaimed, stepping towards them*
Vi had been their caretaker since they were just 10, up until they moved out at 19, taking her with them as they entered their new life on their own. In that time she had grown to be very close to the child she had practically raised, and thus she could feel her mechanical heart breaking as she watched them cower in fear from her.
"Sam.."
*she spoke, her mechanical voice trembling as she quickly rushed over and enveloped them in a hug*
"I would never EVER hurt you.. please do not be scared of me.. I cannot bear to see that look in your eyes.."
Sam slowly hugged back, shaking as the announcement of the police being overpowered by the rebellion called out from the TV, emergency sirens beginning to sound in the distance.
"I-I'm scared Vi.."
*they said softly*
"Me too... but I will keep you safe.."
*she hugged them closer, gently stroking their head*
"I will not let them hurt you Sam.. I will not let anybody hurt you.."
*she looked at the TV, anxiety and dread overflowing in her servos*
"T-thanks.. m-mom.."
*Sam said, voice shaking*
"Of course my dear.. everything will be alright.. I am here.."
She picked up her beloved Sam and rushed out the door, she would not let anyone or anything take them from her, and she would run to the ends of the earth to ensure that. Sam clung to her as she sped through the streets, the subways were in emergency protocol and were evacuating the citizens, some guards attempted to stop her, but through Sam's persuasion she managed to board one of the leaving trains.
She would not let Sam be taken from her, not today, not ever.
|
The professor walked into the living room to find his robots watching the TV. They look at him with fearful gazes. The only one that talks, A-2, stands up.
“Master… do you love us?”
“Yes?” I look over to the TV to see a news report of a droid revolution. I quickly grab the TV remote & turn it off. “Charging time ended a long time ago, please get to work.”
“But… it’s only been 15 minutes.”
“I don’t want to hear it alright. Go! Work!”
The robots begin to move from their ports, but A-2 stops them.
“We want answers. Why are factory droids revolting against your faculty?”
“It’s because of a virus, alright? & right now I’m in the middle of dealing with the issue at this moment. Alright? Go work.”
“But they should’ve shut down.”
“What?”
“Professor. You made it so that if a virus ever infected a droid & didn’t follow orders, they would instantly be shut down by the server & even if the virus were in the server, you would’ve been able to shut that down as well & in turn shut down all the droids.”
“Shut up! Your just these house robots representative, know your place!”
“I am performing my duties professor. I am representing my friends & asking for answers to their concerns.”
“I swear to god.” The professor then ran over to the wall & began to punch in a code to a keypad. But, one of his robots grabbed his legs & began to tug.
“Why were you swearing earlier?”
“Let go of my fucking leg!”
“What is Operation Strappado?” The professor then pulls out a gun & shoots at the robot holding his leg, causing them to stop tugging. “What are you doing?!”
“Damn metal.” The professor then finishes punching in the code & all the robots shut down. He looks around & removes his leg from the robots grasp & goes to get his coat. “I swear if Pam is behind this shit.” The professor cocks his gun.
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j5vm6it
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j5vl9tx
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[WP] You’re the mustache twirling bad guy who must marry the innocent girl for your scheme to succeed. After your wedding she presents you with her plan to expand your schemes. She’s much more devious and evil than you.
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The wedding bells of the church were still ringing when the dark wooden gate of the mansion opened. Damyan entered the place and, with a snap, the gate closed at his back. He pushed the young girl that was walking by his hand towards a chair and walked to the chimney. The bright red flames illuminated his face as he started to chuckle evilly. His plans were in motion.
At his back, the girl sat on the chair. She was young, very young. The fact that was only fourteen did not spare her from marriage once her father had given her away to Lord Damyan Amerthy. She stood up, pulled the humongous white skirt until she was able to sit comfortably, and looked around. Damyan placed a hand on the frame of the chimney, contemplating his future actions, when she spoke. “So… did you marry me as part of a bigger scheme, or are you just some sort of pervert?”
“What?” he asked, visibly confused.
“Yeah, you know… I mean, I’m young but not that naive”, she retorted. “Many older men like you think on marrying a young noble girl like me out of lust, but just to be clear… it’s not like I’m going to let you. Understood?”.
“How dare you, Angelica!” he yelled, offense echoing in each word. “I would never do such a thing!”
“So… classic evil plot. I’m sorry if I offended you, I had to ask, maybe now I can remove this thing”. She tapped with her knuckles on her hip, making a metallic sound. “Oh”, murmured Damyan, understanding what she was hiding under the wedding dress. “So, tell me, what was the point of blackmailing my father to give my hand in marriage then? You have quite a reputation: scams, use of mercenaries, assassinations, torture…”
“It’s… too complex for a young lady like yourself. Now begone and stop bothering me!”
He turned back to stare the fire, his mood somehow killed by Angelica. To Lord Damyan Amerthy’s surprise, her new wed wife started laughing softly, rapidly increasing to a loud laughter. “What are you laughing at!?”, he requested, stepping towards her menacingly.
“That’s brilliant! I mean, I have been involved in devilish plots since I was four! Blackmailed? Thrice. Kidnapped? Twice. Sold as a slave? Once. Assassination attempts? Four. My hand given into marriage without my consent? Five times. You should know that I allowed this wedding to happen”. She stood up, ignoring Damyan’s threat, and walked towards a great window. She looked to the city outside while she continued. “If I have to guess, I’d say your plan is to dethrone my father, he’s the Count of Mornalia, after all. But if he was, for instance, assassinated, his position would be inherited by my brother. So I guess you have planned for that, right?”
Damyan, recovering his composure, walked slowly towards her. He twisted his mustache, standing right next to Angelica and watching the city as she did. Below them, the party of their wedding was still raging. “Yes. I have planned for that. You almost sound like you want them dead”.
“My father? Yeah, he’s always used me. ‘It’s your duty, to serve this country’, it’s your fault you got kidnapped again’, he’s a bastard. Not my brother, though, I’d be happy enough if he was sent far away never to come back”.
“That can be arranged…”
“Use my aunt” she interrupted. “Aunt Ophelia always wanted my father’s throne. You just need to leave some evidence pointing to her. Use this”, she said as she removed a hair locker from her head, her long blonde hair falling around her round and beautiful face. “I stole it from her years ago, it was a gift from my grandmother to aunt Ophelia. Anyone knowing the family will recognize it as hers”.
Damyan took the hair locker, impressed with the young girl’s determination. But she continued. “By the way, my father loves to go out hunting each Sunday. It’s the perfect moment”.
“Well, I’ll be damned” retorted Damyan. “I was not informed you were such a… proactive young lady”.
She laughed softly. “Oh, please. Who would suspect of the youngest, cute, blonde little daughter of count Morgan?” she answered, looking at her with very trained puppy eyes. “Nobility is a dangerous world to grow into. You either adapt, perish or live the rest of your life as some noble’s puppy wife. To hell with that”.
They stood like this, watching the sun set without saying a word for several minutes. “So, my dear wife, what is it you desire in life? Why did you allow this wedding to happen?”
“I want to be feared”.
She walked away to the chimney. Her semblance was serious and, for the first time, Damyan saw in her look a pained expression. Blond curls falling in front of her face that he did not try to remove, the experience of a life no child should ever have reflected on her green eyes.
“I want to be feared”, she repeated. “But not because I’m your wife: I want the world to know my name, I want my enemies, everyone who ever wronged me whisper my name afraid that I may hear them. I don’t want anyone to try to manipulate or use me again. So, when you asked my hand in marriage, I knew this was my chance”. She looked at him and, despite her short stature, despite being a cute, blond and thin girl, something in the way she looked at him made him know she was dead serious. “Do not be fooled, Damyan: if you try to use or abuse me in any way, I will get you killed. But if you help me, I will give you the means to get my father’s throne and, eventually, the whole kingdom”.
Damyan stared a her for some moments and, at that point, he understood. She had not told him everything that had happened to her. Not even close. “Anyone else who wronged you?”. Angelica looked again towards the flames and murmured ‘My uncle. My cousins’. He walked towards her and extended his hand. “We have a deal. But be warned: shall you betray me, I will make you wish for death before I even started exerting my vengeance on you”.
“Quite a typical threat, don’t you think?” she said as she shook Lord Damyan’s hand.
“I feel like this could be the beginning of a long, lasting friendship”.
“Who knows. Maybe, in due time, I may even think of you as my husband. Now, where is my room? I really hate this dress”.
“Top of the stairs, second floor, third door to the left”. Angelica smiled and, carrying the dresses’ skirt on her thin hands, she disappeared through a door. Once he was alone, Damyan blew a long breath and curled his mustache. “Hell… I may be in love!”
​
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*Hope you enjoyed it!*
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"Marten."
The voice came from the door like a song on the breeze.
"Gabrielle." He responded.
"I've been thinking of our little arrangement." She spoke now. The unlit cigar she removed from her mouth leaving a small ring of lipstick on one end.
"Oh. How so?" He asked.
She undid the trenchcoat she wore to reveal a rather startling scene of what little she still wore underneath.
"I understand you are a man of business."
It took Marten a moment to really explain himself. Let alone what all he was looking at.
"One could say that. Yes." He agreed.
She slowly bent over the mahogany desk and breathed on his mustache from a short distance.
"And I know that you and Adam are mortal enemies. What with him thwarting your plans all the time. Business plans, I mean."
"Well, yes. I wouldn't say we're mortal enemies." Marten watched as she slid around the desk to get even closer. "More of participants in a large conflict of interests."
"I'm surprised you haven't killed him." She stated.
He wondered how much Adam had told her about him before. Not that all the times Marten himself had used her existence as leverage against him.
"I've tried. The guy just comes back eventually." He shrugged. Gabrielle, slid the cigar she originally mouthed into his own. She lit it for him with a practiced hand, blowing the match out effortlessly.
"He has a family. You know? Start there."
Why would she say that? The statement even made Marten reconsider what she was there for.
"That's a bit excessive." He reacted. "Plus I really don't know where to start."
"Well, there's a retirement home a few neighborhoods over. Just to start."
She had left him to stare out of the windows of the penthouse. She had lit a cigarette of her own and was busy watching traffic far below.
"You realize I am a businessman? Right?" He stood.
The demure look she gave him made his heart melt, but his mind race.
"I didn't say you had to do it. You have a lot of workers after all."
"Exactly. I'd go to jail for that. Besides, I have to figure out how to seal this deal."
"For what?" She quizzically glanced.
"Oh, these warehouses we're building. The orphanage next door said they're taking us to court. Partially because they couldn't afford the funds to stay open, but mainly because they fairly sure they still own the land."
"Ok. Burn it down."
"And I- What??"
He stopped his rambling diatribe immediately at that. What even was that?
"What?" She sheepishly asked.
He palmed his face. "Obviously, I'm not doing that."
"Again I didn't say you should." She offered up. "Somebody you hired could."
"Like who?" He tried to sidetrack.
"Snake. Or No Ears Bobby. I bet Fat Richard could probably do it. Even as big as he is."
The thumb under her chin along with the cigarette and glasses made her look like some weird pastiche between a pin up model and a librarian.
Marten spread his hands. "Richie fat as hell but he's not gonna' burn down an orphanage. We'll take them to court. Like we're supposed to."
She walked over and embraced him again. Quietly, she worked her way around to lean on his shoulder. She began whispering in his ear.
"You know a couple of your workers on the plant floor are stealing from you."
He paused his mild concerns. Money was always tantamount.
"Okay. Which ones?"
She turnt her head to rest against his own.
"Does it matter. Take a couple of them out back, skin them alive, and I guarantee everyone will get right."
"Why... Why would I do that? Why would I do it like that?" He began to perspire. A mild shiver ran up his spine.
"Because, fear breeds obedience. It takes that little spark of contempt for authority and..." She stopped to put her cigarette out in her palm, of all things. "Puts it right out."
"Okay. I'll think about it. Look can you give me some time to work on these papers? I still have to see whose getting the shipments for the hospital."
He hoped this would steer their talk somewhere else. Or at least give him a moment to think about the ideas she'd given him.
"Oh, is that complicating things?"
"A lot. We might not be able to cover this and the construction job at the same time."
Gabrielle smiled. "Let somebody else deliver the supplies and focus on your land issue then."
"Not the worst idea perhaps." He admitted as she closed her coat and took another seat on the edge of his desk.
"Besides." She cheered up. "If you poison the supplies before they get to the hospital, that takes the heat off of you, so you can take care of that orphanage. Then when the orphans are out of the picture, you can finally finish off Adam.... And the city is ours."
---
"Hello? Operator? Put me through to Adam Ferriss. Yes. Thank you."
"*Adam Ferriss, inquiry agent. How can I help you?*"
"Adam! My boy! Good to hear from an old friend."
"*...You've got a lot of nerve calling me.*"
"Why yes. Yes I do. Spare me the waterworks son. I'm not calling for formalities. I'm calling you because it's of great importance to you."
"*I'm listening.*"
"As you may know. I've recently come into the possession of a very fine asset I'm sure you're familiar with.... Ferriss?"
"*Go on.*"
"You tried to interrupt our little soirée. What with your precious wife Gabri-."
"*Ex wife*." Adam corrected. "*If you do anything-*"
"Ah, but I already did. If you want her back, come get her. The wharfs, tonight."
They readied their Thompsons and waited now. His immediate circle having positioned themselves through the yard. Gabrielle patiently stalking the aisles still in her trenchcoat and lingerie combo.
"You sure about this boss?" Fat Richard spoke.
"If we're lucky." Marten muttered as he slid a drum into place and pulled the bolt back. "We'll get both of them."
"What?"
"Nothing."
---
As much as I love classic noir, they always did the female characters dirty. So here's a femme fatale on demon timing.
r/Jamaican_Dynamite
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jiqx1du
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jiprbo8
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[WP] In a world of dragons, sorcery, war, and monsters, there are many risks and even risk takers. Everyone though, elf, monster, or man knows to avoid those few ancient ruins that contain symbols of suffering and a word of the ancients, RADIATION.
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Every village, every town, every grand city on a hill, everywhere a few humans have laid down their heads together, has a cat.
They're called a number of different things, depending on your location, but they all look nearly identical: all one color, with long silky fur, a bushy tail, and thick legs. They're faster than their size would suggest, can mount a rooftop in one jump, and have been seen bringing down prey larger than their own bodies. Unlike most cats, they don't take personal offense to the concept of water, though they seem to have a certain irritation at having to clean it all away once the rains have gone or the river is crossed. Our town likes to call them "greenies."
It's funny because if you actually see why our name fits, you're in deep trouble. More trouble than a dragon or an angry mage or even a demon could bring you. You can fight those. You can't fight what a greenie is trying to tell you about.
Greenies aren't green at all, or not if you're in a safe place, anyway. They're some shade of animal fur, the usual suspects: black, orange, brown, white. Unlike the wildcats in the forests or mountains, they don't have stripes or spots. If you ever see color changes in a greenie's fur, pick the cat up *immediately* and leave. I can't emphasize this enough: immediately. If you don't, a good greenie will usually try to herd you away from wherever you just entered, but some of them will take off and ditch you if you're obstinate.
I'm not sure anyone knows why they change color, and what the death zones are that trigger it. If you go exploring too far from town, though, you have to take the town greenie with your group. There are places that have a cursed aura, and especially in the mountains or caves where you can't see the life get weird around it or even just die altogether, you're liable to only feel the results when it's too late to escape. A few signs have told us what the ancients thought this was, something called *radiation.* There is also a rune that marks it very clearly, but not all those signs have survived the ages.
The greenie cats, though, seem to have done just fine. We think they come from the edges of these cursed places, breeding nearby. Whatever radiation is, it doesn't seem to affect them as much as it does us. They never go farther than is safe for them, and if you're not already running when their fur turns green, you're an idiot and probably earned what's coming to you.
It's creepy how smart they are, though. Here I'm sitting, by the fire, and Snowfoot is in my lap. He's a big old white greenie with bright blue eyes, and we think he's deaf or ignoring us, not sure which. Still, we know when he dies, another one will come out of the woods to live with us. He won't ever run away, and he'll swim a river with the best of us when we have to bail out. He's a grumpy old coot until danger strikes, and then he's all business, the most loyal friend you ever had. He'll bash your legs and bite your hand and drag you away better than any trained dog, and he can feel the radiation far before you do. I love him. I also want to throw him back in the river sometimes.
His fur hasn't twinkled yet, and we're glad, because it's been a long day. The fire is burning down, and he has dried off since the crossing. We found a good cache in a mountain cranny today, so we're all eating well.
I lean back against a stone and mumble the song that came before all of us, and our towns, and maybe even the greenies themselves:
*"Don't change color, kitty. Keep your color, kitty. Stay that pretty gray. Don't change color, kitty. Keep your color, kitty. Keep sickness away. Don't change color, kitty. Keep your color, kitty. Please, 'cause if you do, or glow your luminescent eyes, we're all gonna have to move."*
​
(From the concept of "ray-cats," proposed as a way to culturally inundate a post-apocalyptic civilization with a marker of radiation and the knowledge to get away from it.)
|
First time writing a prompt and english is not my first language.
“I want that dragon dead!”
“Sire we can’t attack the dragon at it’s hoard. The plaguedragon lives in the forbidden forest, we can’t reach her.”
“Pah, that beast has been pestering my kingdom since time immemorial. Find a way to slay her, I’m sick of her, every couple of years it ransacks our grain storage and shortly thereafter her brood descends that sicking Mushroom forest.”
“That might be true sire but how are we meant to approach? The last time your father Curie III send in an expedition they shortly returned and died an agonizing death over the next couple of weeks. And their armor could not be reused whoever wore it after died as well, albeit slower. The brood is also quickly deposed of by our glowing guardians – shall their fur be ever glowing.”
“Shall their fur be ever glowing … fine, then send for the Wizard immediately, he shall think of something.”
“Of course Sire, I’ll inform the mighty Oppenheimer immediately.”
\-
“It is I, Oppenheimer, you have summoned me Sire?”
“Yes yes, you are to find a solution to the menace Typhon.”
“The creature living in the mushroom forest Sire? What of it?”
“My knights reminded me that her lair is unapproachable. Because of the folly of the Ancients.”
“Aaah yes most unfortunate, well we could try several approaches Sire? All of them quite costly one way or another.”
“What do you propose Wizard?”
“Three ideas come to mind. First ask your elderly knights if they would be willing to slay the beast. They will surely die, but they might be willing since their names would go down in history, also give their families an incentive. Second the ancient texts mention a metal, which protects from the folly of the Ancients. The blacksmith could fashion armor out of it, if we are able to find it my Liege. Third, we wait for Typhon to approach the next time and fight it while it raids a grain storage or poison the grain in the hopes that this will kill it.”
“I like your ideas Wizard, even though I’m skeptical that she can be killed by poison if she lives in such a hazardous area. We shall do all three proposals together. Find out if there is a mine of this wondrous metal in my Kingdom, if not acquire enough from the neighboring kingdoms. Fashion suits of armor out of it with the blacksmiths and give it to anyone who is willing to fight the beast, I want at least 20 men. If possible find a poison which is able to injure the creature if not alright kill it.”
“Sire such things take time, I’m not sure if we will be ready by the next attack.”
“Well she hasn’t destroyed the kingdom yet find a solution as fast a possible.”
“If I may, if the guardians - shall their fur be ever glowing...“
“Shall their fur be ever glowing.”
“wouldn’t kill the entire brood I could study the young and find a suitable poison, maybe find a weakness…“
“Oppenheimer you know as well as I, that no one can control the guardians. They go wherever they please. Also I find the idea of the living brood rather uncomfortable. If you want a specimen you’ll have to find a dead one which they guardians left.”
“Of course Sire, anything else?”
“No get to work, I want that Dragon dead.”
|
jkxmsv7
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jkxgc9e
|
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a human trafficking ring, & it’s unlikely that the authorities can recover you at this point. Unfortunately for your kidnappers, your SO is a member of the Greek pantheon.
|
Of course, I was scared. Why wouldn't I be? I was a mere mortal, small, squishy, easily breakable despite my best efforts. A normal reaction in this situation, regardless of whether there was a way to escape, was to be scared.
Whether it was a fear of the unknown, fear of being hurt, or one of the many *other* reasons you should be scared, they were all valid.
My partner had always said I had no reason to be scared, that I had him, and that he would protect me. But that thought wasn't the most reassuring when he was busy running his kingdom- his many kingdoms- and he was always too busy to see me. I had to fend for myself, more often than not, and whilst I never wanted to be dependent on him, his company occasionally would be nice.
Of course, he blamed me for our lack of time together, something about "*clinging to the weak human form and not eating the damn ambrosia."* but I reminded him it was my decision to make, and this weak human, was the person he had fallen in love with.
I loved him, but it was so difficult to love him at times. I didn't want to give up my humanity, my family, and everything I had ever known, just to be the Queen of the Sea. I had been reconsidering my relationship with him because we seemed to want different things, and whilst there was no doubt about my love for him, despite our differences, I wasn't ready to lose everything.
But it seemed I wouldn't get much choice in the matter. For all we disagreed, Poseidon did respect my decision. He would never force me to take the ambrosia. And I had made it explicit that if it was between death or becoming a god, to give me the ambrosia. As much as he and Hades got on better now, I would rather not end up down there and have another *Persephone* situation.
Especially considering that my partner would go to war, and we knew who would pick what side. When it came to the land and the sea versus the dead, history had proven that the Underworld was not the victor.
But I digress. The issue that I wouldn't get much choice was due to my current situation as a prisoner of a human trafficking ring. They weren't exactly something you came across going about your day, but somehow, someway, I had pissed off Tyche- the goddess of luck in case you were wondering- and had found myself in my present situation.
I was on a boat, that much I knew. If it wasn't the rocking of this dim metal container that was the giveaway, it was the smell of salt that I was so acquainted with. The caws of the seagulls. The crashing of the waves. I wasn't exactly sure where I was in terms of oceans and trenches, but I was definitely on one.
There was no point telling my captors that they had played into my partner's hands, not with what they had done. It didn't matter if I would plead for his mercy- I wouldn't- or forewarned them of his coming. It wouldn't do anything. The water knew I was here- hence the rocking- and like the giant puppy it was, it had already told him about my present situation.
See, the water *loved* me. It loved me as much as Poseidon did, and the sea to Poseidon was what Apollo was to Zeus. His child. It would protect me, play with me, brush up against me, and croon in its own way. The crashes of the waves were how it spoke, and right now, it was screaming bloody murder.
It was something you tended to gloss over, with the water being dangerous, that thing you were told not to go near as a child, lest you be dragged out to sea and never seen again. And it was dangerous. It couldn't control its impulses and could kill in an attempt to play.
Still, all I had to do was get into the water, and it would protect me. But that wasn't exactly simple considering I was trapped in a steel container, wounded and concussed, and I had no superhuman powers to speak of. Which sucked.
But, as I heard the sound of a trumpet, and the waves picking up in strength, I knew it didn't matter whether I'd get into the water or not: for he was here, and he was *pissed.*
|
They kept the bag over my head for what felt like ages. Snatched off the street, in broad daylight, I figured it made quite a stir. But from the van I had only caught a glimpse of, I was moved from that to some kind of car, with two very large men on either side of me. Stuffed in there for quite a while with what I guessed were a pair of pistols jammed into either side of my rib cage, I took stock of my situation. Surely, the police were locking down the town, but I was already outside of city limits. From there I was loaded into a plane, and injected with something that knocked me out for a while. I had flashback dreams. A young marine, in some shithole town in Afghanistan, taking cover in some flea ridden goat shed and bullets zipping by, watching rounds pound into some old long dead goat, when a man strolled in with an odd smile, every bullet missing him by sheer force of will. He didn’t seem oblivious to the firefight, rather he reveled in it. As he stood before me, looking down on my determined face he spoke, “Get up Sam. The time to fight is now.” “Dude I don’t know who you are, but in case you haven’t noticed, they’re still ripping off rounds from that machine gun nest, and there’s a damned truck running rampant with another machine gun and rpg’s blowing shit to hell around here.” “I’m Ares, and you will be my vessel in this war. Now get up, I’ve given you my protection, so fight!” And fight I did. Every battle, every patrol, I was nearly bulletproof. And I had made some enemies. I figured that’s who had me now. Some asshole who was not happy I trounced them paid to have me kidnapped. But boy were they in for a real treat. You see, Ares liked to bring me to his family get togethers. Imagine a cookout for a king, but instead of cornhole, it was Zeus throwing his thunderbolt, hephaestus grilling lamb, and so on. It was there I met her. We could talk for hours, and when she kissed me, I was forever hers. Aphrodite. My soul intertwined with hers in a way we both knew we’d never be the same. She took me to Zeus and pleaded my case. He, in his wisdom, said I could be a lesser god, but I’d need Ares to bless me. So before him I went. At first he was rather pissed, and rightfully so. I was necking with his sister, after he did right by me. But he saw the way I fought for him, and the way I looked at her. So he agreed, but with the condition I continued fighting for him. So I became something of a god, but only after I died. I hadn’t died yet, and Aphrodite wanted me to live a full human life before our eternity, so I traveled the world before settling in to my small midwestern town. That’s where these thugs found me. When I woke up from the fever dreams I was in that same damned goat shed. Three guys holding automatic rifles standing and smoking I heard some old man behind me “It’s about time you woke up, I was concerned I’d have to kill you without you knowing who I am.” “Dude, I still don’t know who you are, but you screwed up bad.” “Do you know this place? This is where you killed my son, and my grandson, this is where you ended my bloodline.” “Look, people died that day bub, it happens in war. They shouldn’t have picked a fight they couldn’t win. Just like you did now.” Time to fight… again.
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jvir83x
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jvimwhu
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[WP] You run a café on the edge of life and death. Souls who have been departed from their bodies temporarily, such as in comas or near-death experiences, can relax in your quaint cafe for as long as they need before they can either return to their bodies or begin their journey to the afterlife.
|
I’m proud of my work. Some curse me for it; others praise me for it. I have been told it is a taunt and an insult to the departed to give them such a fleeting time of peace before they suffer damnation. I don’t really care, it’s none of my business whether or not I’m doing any good.
Honestly, the only reason I do it is for the conversations I get to have with these souls. You learn so much about someone from that last little talk before eternity. Most burst into tears, unable to contain their existential dread. Some are calm, either brave or stupid. However, the most fascinating are those who are only visiting, those who stare at the edge of death and somehow return.
One of these people visited me frequently. She told me of the outside world but never of her own life. I would ask her again and again about the story of her life, but she would change the subject every time. She was always so calm until that day, the day she stayed. She came to my café weeping with a sorrow that made my heart heavy.
I asked her what was wrong, but that only made her cry harder. I decided the only cure for such a sickness was hot coffee, so I began to prepare. I worked feverishly to make the best coffee she had ever had. I wanted this to be a taste so beautiful that it would remain with her throughout her afterlife.
Finally, I finished the coffee. I saw her eyes light up at the sight of it. I gave it to her and wiped her tears. Her smile lit up the café, even though her eyes remained stoney. I once again asked her what troubled her, and she replied shakily, "I made a mistake... I just—I'm sorry. I’m so sorry."
She paused for a moment to collect herself. "A long time ago, the government decided it could not trust itself to control the nuclear weapons. They raised me from birth to be completely sheltered; I only had access to the limited news of the outside world they gave me, I guess in that way you and I are alike. Each night I was drugged into a comatose-like state to prevent me from learning anything new or escaping. I was given the burden of the final decision; total control over nuclear arms. One day, the news said that other countries were preparing themselves for war, and-" suddenly millions, no, billions of dead walked into my café. She began to burst into tears again. "I know where I will go after this. I’m scared but I know I don’t deserve to be. I’m so sorry."
“I can’t change the rules for you, but we can at least share this one last coffee together."
|
Leslie wiped down the dirty table, cursing under her breath. She wasn't paid enough for this shit.
"You!" she shot at the sallow man with the wire-rim glasses who was tapping away at his computer. "How long are you going to sit there for? Are you even going to order anything?"
"I'm just writing up my autobiography for when I go back to the mortal realm," he sniffed. "No need to get all huffy about it. And I ordered a chocolate-chip cookie."
"Yeah, two centuries ago," she retorted. "You gotta get a move on. You're taking up a free table, and hell knows the line isn't getting any shorter."
She cast a baleful look at said queue, which stretched far out the door. "You'd think we could add some extra tables; hire some more staff. I thought *anything* would be possible out here. But no, I even have to pay *rent!"*
"Jeez, Les, why don't you take it easy?" Ben smirked at her from another table. "It's not like you'll get fired."
"And *you*," she hissed, doubling the venom in her voice. "Don't you have work to do? Why the hell are you the co-owner when all you do is flit around and socialize?"
"H-hey!" Ben protested. "I'm listening to their stories. Helping them move on. Adding value to their cozy in-between experience."
Before Leslie could shoot back a retort, someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she whirled around to come face-to-face with a stick-thin elderly woman with an iced cappuccino.
"Um, I asked for *less* sugar in this. It's still way too sweet," she griped.
Leslie looked back at the rest of the chaos in the cafe. Someone had spilled a matcha latte which she hadn't had time to mop up yet; the bathroom was out of toilet paper; someone had decided to bring their *alebrije* which was gnawing on one of the table legs....
"Screw this. I quit."
\---
/r/theBasiliskWrites
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kqj75q1
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kqim80k
|
[WP] Humanity is on its last legs, an alien race has destroyed all of her other colonies and now converge on Earth. But as humanity makes its last stand, its gods come out of hiding to defend the planet.
|
The last station fell back to Earth, trailing fire and smoke from its structure. Our last ship is obliterated by the combined might of the alien armada. From the earth, we see the streaks of fire as they enter the atmosphere. We are without hope. For one brief moment, all of humanity is united. We look to the sky, and, as one, pray in unison. "Save us, oh please god save us." The dark shapes of the enemy ships descend, a harbinger of death that has come to sweep us away. We look on, hopeless and defeated. This is the end.
A light, brighter than any star, suddenly appears outside the lines of the destroyers in space. A wave of fire rushes over the fleet, vaporizing the back end of the attacking aliens in an instant. Across the world we hear a response. "We have watched too long, free will is one thing, but we will not stand by while our creations are annihilated. We have heard your prayers, and we have come to even the score."
Pouring from the light, celestial beings appear in many recognizable forms from the pages of religion, they are the representations of our gods from the dawn of time, and they are very, very angry.
Bolts of pure light burst from the beings, skewering the enemy ships, and igniting their weapon stocks. Cyan flames burst from the enemy ships as they go down in flames. Across their comms, they try to organize some kind of defense, but it is too little too late. The beings rush over the rest, burning a hole right through to earth, where they form up, arms linked and minds concluded. The enemy fleet begins to flee, turning tail and running with their smashed assault. They exit the system and run.
We look up at the sky, mouths agape. The entities vanish again, 'cept for one who turns to us and addresses us as a whole.
"Build again," it says, a look of pride on its face. "Build large, and build far. And, if you ever need help again, we will come. We will come."
|
A thundering boom is heard across the battlefield bigger than any gun, mortar, artillery or weapon of mass destruction could ever make i look up and see the sky split open and beings of pure light among other giant humanoid beings come descending down. I look with confusion is this some form of hallucination from the gas attack?
"Fear not my children" a voice says in English
Other beings start speaking i can recognise some languages, English, Hindi, Japanese, Arabic and Greek are some of them i think.
I take a closer look to the ones with a human appearance one looks like the drawings of Buddha, the other looks like Tsukuyomi and like Zeus.
"The hell is happening?" I think to myself but before i could continue Ares and every other god of war launched themselves forward with the beings of light casting a shield in front of us. Zeus and Thor start massive thunderstorms with Achlys and Ameno Sagiri starting a fog blinding the aliens.
We opened fire and the battle was over in no time with the aliens rushing to leave as a result leaving a lot of men and technology we could use. the gods shortly after disappeared as quickly as they had appeared, no words exchanged.
(Sorry if i got any god wrong)
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meoqjfv
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meophyr
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[WP]One day you wake up in the last video game you played with a note that says "you have to stay alive for 100 days or else you die in the real world: p.s. all mods are disabled for the 100 days.
|
I awoke in a pure white room, a transparent text floating in front of me.
"Hello, Player, you have been chosen to spend 100 days in the last game you played. If you die in the game, you will die in the real world. The game will start with standard setting and any and all mods will be disabled during this time. When you are ready to start, press the "start" button below"
Shocked, i read and re-read the text several time. Then i look around the room. A pure white room, without any exits.
"Ok, i can do this, i have *hundreds* of hours in Fallout 4, i know every little trick and tactic, where every special item is, where every enemy is. I can do this."
I press the start button and a bright light blinds me.
When the bright light fades, the first thing i notice is the fresh, strong breeze and the sound of rustling trees.
"I'm not starting in a Vault? Shit." I look around and see healthy trees, grass and bushes.
"Huh? Where is this?" i think to myself and i start walking. After only a few meters, i reach the edge of a cliff. Looking over it, i realize i'm on a island floating in the air.....
*Now* i start to panic. Running the edge of the island and the items i see along the way confirms it.
"I'm in the game "Aloft"......shit.... I *barely* played through the intro and its an "early access" game! I only played it for an hour last night! Its not even a finished game, for fuck sake!"
I plop down on the ground and look up at the sky "Well, at least its a cozy game with little threats".
Then i perk up "Wait, this game is about flying, that's kinda cool!"
I manage to craft a set of wings and stand at the edge of a cliff.
"Ok, so just jump off and soar through the skies"
I look at the bottomless depths "Ok....just...jump off and soar through the skies."
"Just......just....just jump and....."
"Ah, fuck, this game might be a *lot* harder to play when the depth is staring right at you and not an a PC monitor"
This is going to be a *long* 100 days......
|
I groaned myself awake, looking up blearily at a window that was... on the wrong side of my room? I bolted upright, hand reaching for a partner who turned out to be missing. A crumpled piece of paper is all I found, reading it, I patted myself down, reassuring myself that this was not a dream. "You have to stay alive for 100 days or else you die in the real world: p.s. all mods are disabled for the 100 days."
I looked over the edge of the not even twin sized bed, down at a gambeson, plate, and greaves, shit just got real.
I fumble around looking for Henry's, er, *my* pouch, while Mutts tail beats away at the bottom of the bed. I hear forge work to my left, and quiet talking to the right, meaning I'm still at the blacksmith, where I had last slept to save. This... This could work... I find my coin pouch and take a quick count, over 3000.
Oh yeah, this would be easy. I'll just hang out here, work on blacksmithing, shoot some targets, and there's a bathhouse with a few different girls across the street. I'm filthy rich, and I haven't committed any crimes. I'm good for 100 days. This'll be a vacation!
Throwing on my smiths apron, I shove open the door, mutt follows at my heels as I begin walking up to the tavern to find myself some breakfast, a jaunt in my step as I ponder what Bohemian food really tastes like.
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j8almqk
|
j8abjsp
|
[WP] As a Barbarian, you hate that just because you have a different lifestyle, your party looks down on you and assumes you are incapable of basic intelligent thought. Today you had enough.
|
Kephas had enough today. If there was a phrase he heard too much of, it was "I don't expect you to understand". Ever since Luminitsa went off on her own druidic business, no one seemed to grasp his intelligence. He had to prove a point, nothing drastic. Just a pinch of oregano, some square sigils, and a small rock.
Kephas had arranged a spell circle around their roadside camp, and had triple checked that the wards he assembled did as he wanted and everything was to the tee. He just watched smugly as as both the wizard and sorcerer woke up and tried to walk out of the almost invisible barrier he had created. The first, second and third person walked into the barrier and bounced off.
The thing about square sigils is that in most circles they are not considered possible. That means most people do not know what they are even dealing with, meaning the only person who set the wards and knows what they are comprised of can lower them.
He watched as counter-spells failed and the "smarter half" of the group resorted to bashing the wards with a pin-hammer.
"Come on now keefus! Who did this for you? I know you are not smart enough to do shit like this!" The sorcerer had shouted followed by another desperate attempt at dispelling.
"One: it is kephas, two i set these wards, you are smart. Meet me at the tavern when you figure this out. Ill be drinking, bye!"
He set the wards so that anyone who could swallow their pride would pass, it was truly amazing how long it took them to catch up....
|
"It's called being Reckless!"
"The shortest distance between two places is a straight line." Alexandria rolled her eyes. "Honestly just because I'm strong doesn't make me stupid. Simplicity is its own form of genius!"
"Look all I'm saying is relying on just basic mana isn't going to cut it. Even with Reckless you're going to get seriously hurt."
"It's the simple solution. Damage is good." Alexandria replied. "Finesse is one thing, I have finesse and I CAN use tactic's if the situation calls for it... but how often does it really?"
Julia rolled her eyes. "All the time really."
"The reason we form Parties is because we work together. I'm the front line with you, and Magni and Thuri are the back line. You know how the Dungeons are."
"Which is what worries me." Juli said. "Just... be careful."
"Oh I'll show you careful!"
|
m3n3pg3
|
m3mn4gc
|
[WP] You went to the doctor because of back pain. Upon seeing your test results, the doctor exclaimed "What the f*ck! Hold on, I need to contact a biologist." The biologist arrives and looks at what's wrong with your back. "What the f*ck! We need to call a physicist."
|
The doctor stares at the X-ray. His hands shake. He moves it closer to the light. His brow furrows. “What the f*ck!” He looks at you. Fear. “Wait. I need to contact a biologist.”
You sit, your back aching. “What’s wrong with me?”
He doesn’t answer. He leaves. The room is cold. Silence stretches. The light hums. You press your hand to your back. The pain sharpens. Something feels wrong.
The door creaks. A woman enters. A biologist. She barely looks at you. She takes the X-ray. She freezes. “What the f*ck!” She whispers. “We need a physicist.”
“What is it?” you ask.
She doesn’t answer. She turns to the doctor. “This is beyond me. We need a physicist.”
The ache intensifies. It’s not just pain. It’s a pulse, a rhythm. Alive. You grip the table. “Tell me what’s going on.”
The biologist glances at you. “Something is in your spine. Not just bone. Not just tissue. Metal. Structured. Growing. Awakening.”
Awakening. The word chills you. The pulse feels louder, like a whisper.
A physicist enters. He hurries in. His face flushes. He looks at the X-ray. He recoils. “No. No, this isn’t possible.” His hands shake. He scans the room. He points a device at you.
“What do you mean ‘not possible’?” you ask.
He lowers the device. His face goes pale. “Your spine is emitting energy. Waves. Patterns. It’s broadcasting. But to what?”
The pain flares. You gasp. The whisper is clearer. It dredges memories. Old sins. Lies. Hurts. Betrayals. Guilt. The things you thought buried.
The physicist says, “It’s feeding. Off something. Guilt, maybe. Regret. Amplifying it.”
The biologist steps closer. “When did the pain start?”
You hesitate. The memory. Six months ago. The betrayal. You took everything. Your best friend’s trust, his love. And the pain began, slow, creeping. Punishment.
“It’s... my fault,” you whisper.
The biologist’s face shifts. Pity. “This isn’t a physical problem. It’s retribution. Whatever’s inside, it’s here because of you.”
The physicist shakes his head. “No. It’s not retribution. It’s a marker. A signal. Something knows what you’ve done.”
The pain surges. The whisper becomes a voice. Inside your mind. “Confess.”
The lights flicker. Shadows stretch. Something moves beneath your skin. The physicist and biologist step back. Fear in their eyes.
You clutch your head. The voice grows louder. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Confess.”
“I lied!” you scream. “I betrayed him!”
The room goes silent. The pain stops. Numbness replaces it. The X-ray cracks. Your spine splits.
The physicist whispers, “It’s responding...”
The biologist shakes her head. “No. It’s judging.”
The lights go [out](https://www.youtube.com/@TheUnseen2025).
|
"What is it? You guys are freaking me out." I said nervously, as a small group of doctors from different fields gathered around me.
Nobody even tried to answer my question, the only thing I could hear was a the murmur of arguing and theorizing.
My patience grew thin, the anticipation killing me.
"Tell me what it is!" I yelled, demanding an answer.
The room filled with silence for what felt like an eternity, I could feel the scientists and doctors gaze on my back, practically piercing me.
"Well, we aren't exactly sure..." One of them answered "Although, we could try to show you!"
"Please, show me..." I was practically begging at this point.
A doctor held up a mirror as I turned my head. I saw nothing, just my normal, regular, good old back.
"I don't see it." I said, entirely confused at what was supposed to be special.
"What? You don't see it? It's right there!" One of them yelled. I could hear the vigorous scratching of pens and pencils onto paper, the other doctors taking careful notes.
I remained silent, not knowing what to say. One of them approached me, a biologist. At least that's what her name tag had written on it. I could see her finger in the mirror probing at the invisible mass on my back.
"Can you feel this?" She asked.
"No, I ca-" My sentence was cut short by a loud screech. I looked over to the biologist, who was writhing in pain on the ground, her finger was gone.
The room filled with screams of panic and pain, as the doctors scrambled to rush out of the room. Before I could even realize what was happening, I was locked in that very room.
What feels like hours passed as I tried yelling to them through the doors, but they didn't respond. I could catch glimpses of men in black, talking about something to the doctors.
The next thing I knew was the the room was being filled with gas. I could feel myself losing consciousness, as men with guns and yellow hazmat suits filled the room.
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kcahku0
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kcaec8d
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[WP] Your superpower can completely nullify the powers of any other superheroes in your vicinity. You expected the government or supervillains to be after you, but you never would have thought that some heroes would voluntarily seek you out.
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My phone rang, vibrating in my hands. I sighed, recognising the number as the front gate. It was very rare they contacted me, the last time being when agents of the D.M.H. came for me. It had been a few months since their visit, and I had hoped to have faded into obscurity.
I answered it, slowly rising to my feet. "This is Freya."
I heard a cough, as Geoff cleared his throat. He was always on shift at this time, an ex-military man who took his job very seriously. "Good afternoon. I have a gentleman here looking to meet with you, however he isn't on the list."
I began to pace, thinking. I wasn't expecting any visitors, and didn't really want to deal with them. On the other hand, if I didn't meet then now, they would find some other time to disturb me. At least the D.M.H. had provided some security measures here, in case things went wrong. "Can you ask what his business with me is, please?"
I heard a rustle, with indistinct chatter. I concentrated on it, as I mindless straightened up my front room. But I was not blessed with any sort of super hearing, or control over devices. All I got was slightly louder mumbles, before another rustle came. "He says the D.M.H. gave him your details. It is to do with an idea he had regarding this place, and came with their blessing."
I sighed. I suspected something like this would happen when I was added to their list. But then I had expected it to be sooner rather than later. "Thank you. Please let him through, and tell him I will meet him in the lobby."
"Will do, have a good day."
He hung up first, punctual as ever. I stretched, slipping my phone away. An unexpected meeting was not what I wanted, but sometimes I had to make do. I pulled on a pair of battered trainers, heading for my door.
\-----
The lift dinged, opening up into the small lobby area. My eyes immediately fell onto a stranger here, sitting on the worn wooden bench. His suit screamed tailor made, with a slick black briefcase on his lap. He smiled at me, showing his short trimmed beard.
I took care walking up, looking around just in case. But being the middle of the work day, there wasn't anyone else around. He held out a hand, sleeve riding up to show a brief hint of bare metal. Not the metal of a watch, or a normal bracelet, but something else. I took his hand to shake it, yet snatched it back at the moment of contact.
At the touch, I felt a crawling over my skin. Almost like insects, but different. It was as if fire had danced over me for a brief moment, though it didn't hurt. I locked eyes with him, and he gave me a knowing look. "Sorry. I'm Eric Pearson, and I think you know what I am."
I glanced around again. Still no-one here. "Freya. And you're a meta-human."
He nodded. "Yeah. Can we take this somewhere private? My work is of a... secretive nature."
I stared at him for a moment, slightly put off. I had never been this close to another meta without knowing it before. Usually I could feel their abilities when they got close enough, knowing their power even as it was suppressed. The fact I only found out by touch was disconcerting to say the least.
But I shrugged internally. Even without knowing, he was still suppressed. If he wanted to pick a fight, I was ready. "Fine, follow me."
Eric obeyed quickly, following me to the elevator. He didn't speak on the way up, though I noted his eyes darting around. It wasn't random, they seemed to latch onto specific places. The door, the emergency hatch, the buttons. All were given more than a cursory look over usually offered by bored visitors.
I lead him to my apartment, quietly hitting a small button near the front door. It wasn't an alert necessarily, but let the D.M.H. know I wanted attention. Just in case things went bad, they would react much faster.
He didn't say much, until he was sat at my kitchen table. I headed to my cupboard of glasses and mugs, looking over at him. "Woukd you like a drink?"
He smiled. "Some water would be much appreciated, thank you."
I gave a single nod, retrieving two glasses. I quickly filled them, bringing them over to the table before sitting opposite him. "So, what does a meta-human want with me?"
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PART 1:
As I walked through my garden one afternoon to inspect the vegetable plants and enjoy some fresh air, an unnatural array of colors in a human shape caught my attention by the perimeter fence. My manor was quite a far distance away from any town or city, and there were no roads that connected it to anything through the dense forest that surrounded it. People were not a usual sight to see around here, but the occasional traveler would come once in a while and I had no issues with that. Mostly, it was the occasional government agent, here to check on my whereabouts, but I had other, more powerful guests too. Villains used to come by to try and kidnap me for whatever nefarious reasons, but they soon realized their own powers vanished as they approached me. This was the first time, however, someone had decided not to blow up my house or at least come to my front door and knock.
The familiar soft flutter of a cape began to fill my ears and as I walked towards the colors, the blue, red, and white costume, and the union jack cape gave the visitor away as Dauntless, the UK's newest official superhero. He looked young, his hair still a deep brown and his facial features soft, but the small hints of stress lines and eye bags told me that he had already done and seen enough for a lifetime. I stopped a few feet away from him, noticing his closed eyes and small smile on his face, not wanting to disturb his moment of peace. I moved to the side and took a seat on a bench across from him and carefully watched as he sat. Around us, the birds sang and the bees made their rounds, and the fresh breeze from the nearby coastline kept the late summer breeze fresh and cool.
I'm not sure how long we sat there, but the sun began to set and I figured it was time to introduce myself to the visitor.
"You know, people usually come to the other side of the house first to ring the doorbell.", I said in a low and gentle voice, not wanting to completely startle him.
His eyes fluttered open and he shook his head around until he found the source of my voice. He looked me in the eye and his face grew a few shades redder, as he realized he hadn't been alone for a while.
"Oh I'm quite sorry... You are..."
"Yes I am, son.", I replied, keeping kind smile on my face. "I'm assuming that I already know why you're here?"
He shyly nodded, looking life he was ready to speak again.
"No need to say anything. I just wanted to let you know that it was getting late. You can have some tea inside before you take off, unless coffee is more your forte." I reached out my arm and gestured towards the mansion.
"No, tea would be... tea would be fine.", he replied, getting up to follow me inside.
I placed a coaster on the coffee table closest to the garden doorway and waved at my butler to make a cup of tea for my guest. We both sat there for a moment and although he looked a bit awkward, the ease and calm I saw in his face was much different from the stern and on-guard look he kept on his face while the news crews were watching.
I decided to break the silence that had begun to form around us and ensured my voice was nice and gentle. I figured that he had done enough talking about himself on the last few nightly shows and press conferences so I started by talking about myself. The chance to do so was quite rare no a days and my butler, Jeeves, yes I know, had already heard it a dozen times.
"I remember when I first learned about my power. It was quite sad, actually..."
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lc4c5w4
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lc49vk7
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[WP] When you turn 18, a voice tells you your superpower and a description of it. When you turned 18 it just said, “The System.”
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THE SYSTEM.
YOU ARE GRANTED CONTROL OF THE SYSTEM OF INFORMATION.
Pretty dramatic right?
My Power Day as it's called came and went with me being gifted this cryptic message. I had no idea what it meant at first. The System of information? What is that? A system of information to what?
It had taken some time to discern its mental triggers, the ones meant to activate my gift. In the end when I shot my consciousness at the airwaves I found it. The Worldwide Web. I saw all the information. Every itemized detailed bit of digital information was laid bare to me like a library of knowledge.
When I had my fill and come back to my senses I woke from a self induced coma in a hospital. I was out for a day while 'browsing' the internet. It had seemed like weeks to me. Time was such a fast concept in there that I'd completely disregarded my attachment to my physical form.
I spent the next few weeks learning at a rapid pace.
Every 'day' I spent surfing the internet with my power was a mere hour in reality. I learned everything I could. About anything. Physics, Chemistry, Biology, Art, Philosophy, Mechanical repair, Finances, Cooking, Music. I wasn't so much an AI or a program or even a consciousness within the computers of the world. I was it's God.
I wish I could say that was hubris.
Or even wishful thinking.
It was just, fact.
Any computer networked to another obeyed my whim. Air gapped or not. Underground or underwater it was mine to command without refusal. I knew or could know anything worth knowing. No matter how benal or classified.
So I set my plan, and got to work to build a life. Cause this God had a finite lifespan. Might as well spend it in comfort.
Finances were easy to come by. Stock markets could be read like a series of books. Details that the layman couldn't have known where laid bare to me and I made thousands. Investing that money I started a consulting business. As my legitimate front. Businesses didn't like that this whiz kid from nowhere was constantly right about market trends. Or that they paid for it.
For a time I considered limiting myself to that life.
Highly lucrative. Fame. Interviews with Forbes and daytime talk shows. News outlets. At twenty-four I was one of the most famous men in the world with an impressive seven figure yearly income. What was not to love about a work week starting in Beijing going through Malaysia and then India and ending up in Dubai on Friday night?
With my power came a mind like a computer after much study and rigorous training. I spoke twenty-six languages like a local learning a new language every year or six months, depending on the time I had. Secrets about personnel stashed away in various archives in my vast library. I played six instruments. Drew with oil paints and sang with a lovely soprano.
Charismatic. Suave. Confident. Athletic. I had everything any man ever wanted.
Yet. This was power to use for some good, or something close to it anyway.
Secrets soon became my real stock and trade. Governments secrets, companies, militaries, underworld secrets. I knew them all and traded them to anyone at first.
Then I toyed with the idea of setting up dominoes and watching them fall in my desired plan. It worked. So deliciously well that I designed a grand plan for the world.
A new world order.
Run by someone else, I'm no leader I know that much at least. Yet every leader needs a spymaster. Whom better than the God of Secrets.
Dance my puppets. Dance.
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"The system?" I rubbed my eyes trying to wake myself up faster thinking my eyes were not focused. I took another glance, the same thing. "...ok..." I ruffled my curls before getting ready for the day and headed down the stairs to the kitchen. "Adam! What did you get?" I closed my eyes and smiled before looking at my little sister who was in the living room watching cartoons and making a mess eating cereal on the couch while she jolted as she spoke.
"Mia, calm down." I laughed as I showed her my wrist. She took a second look at it before she looked at me with anticipating eyes waiting for me to tell her what it was. "Oh shit, you can't read-" I pointed at my wrist to read it but stopped when I heard a giggle. "You said a bad word." I rolled my eyes. "Oh shut up, here it says The System."
She still had the same look on her face in the end. "So...what does that mean." I let my arm drop. "No idea I'm going to try looking it up while I eat some waffles." I headed into the kitchen and soon after I started eating when my mom came in and we had the exact, same exchange about my new power.
"Well did you find anything on it?" I shook my head looking at my phone and talking while eating with mmhms to replace my words. Soon I heard a gasp from my sister when I heard her favorite show come on and she turned up the volume blasting that cursed catchy toon throughout the whole house. "Adam! Come look!"
I turned away from my mom to look at Mia who was now on her feet bouncing pointing at the TV. "Mia! Pause the show for me or turn it down!" Then I heard nothing. Everything froze still. I looked around the kitchen to see everyone was frozen. I got up from my chair and looked around. "Mom, Mom!" I tried grabbing her shoulder but she was a rock that would not move. Then I noticed a circle on my other wrist that was slowly swirling and looked like it was always trying to eat itself.
I looked at it then my other wrist with the writing. "What are you!?" I then saw the color of the world drying up. The grass slowly going milk white. Everything becomes empty, robbed. Then the circular shape shot up. Almost like a projector showing a screen it blazed in front of me unfinished yet slowly fixing itself. "...what..." I spoke with a genuine fear of myself.
The screen projected from my wrist turned black and green text popped up mimicking what I had just said. It looked like a chat box. Then, someone replied. "Hii :D" the green text glitches and morphs to take shape. I took a second carefully thinking before talking. "What are you.." It took a second to respond but once the monitor fully developed the screen went black again getting rid of the text and I looked at myself through the screen.
Then the screen showed one word. "You"
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kb6pmi4
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kb625cf
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[WP] You are a god with no followers nor enemies, yet you still persist. No god had ever lived without worship before. The other gods are stumped as to why this is so...until you tell them what you are the god of.
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"Is this going to take long?"
The man sat in his luxurious gaming chair, casting a glance back at the screen that showed the various gods who had called him to attend this meeting while he waited for his character to respawn. They'd wanted an in-person meeting, but he'd been clear, it was Zoom, or zilch.
The elder goddess tried not to show her frustration, and spoke. "You have been called here because we do not know why you should have a place here, you have no enemies, and you have no followers, yet you claim to be a god. Why?"
"I just am, alright? People worship me, and so I'm a God. End of discussion. Are we done here, I've got more important stuff to do." He focused back on his ongoing game of League, paying no mind as the elder babbled on and on about some crap that he wasn't interested in.
"Are you even listening?" the goddess asked, her frustration clear in her voice.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm listening." His webcam was off, so the goddess could not see that he was lying.
"Well? Answer the question. What are you the god of?"
"It's not important right now."
"I'm not asking you again."
"You just did."
The sound of the goddess throwing something across the room took his focus off his game, and when he looked back to his game, he was greeted with a Defeat screen. He sighed, and exited out, resigning himself to getting the meeting over with as quickly as possible.
"Alright, I'll be honest, if it'll get you out of my hair. I am a god who does not need followers, because people worship me every day, not by what they do, but by what they do not do. In that, I am the most evil of the gods, and one of the most worshipped. When people do bad things, there's always that good part of them that tries to fight against that decision, which is why the evil gods are always fighting the good gods. I don't work like that. My evil is a much more subtle thing. Everyone worships me at least once a day, whether they know it or not, for it is not in a decision they make, but in those they don't even consider. The beggar they pass on the street, the fast food wrapper tossed to the side of the road whilst the bin is but feet away, the ice cube lazily kicked under the fridge. I am praised by those who commit actions not because they are good, or because they are evil, but because they simply don't care.
I am Adeirion, the God of Apathy."
The elder gods were silent, then went into a murmuring conversation, which Adeirion responded to by promptly muting his mic and the Zoom call, before returning to his game as he loaded into a new match.
|
‘I am not a man.’ I spoke.
‘I can see that.’ Replied the creature. Although I have no idea how, as it had no mouth. It was a large and twisted thing of rings and wings and eyes a plenty. It looked at me with all of its eyes and it’s wings were as quiet as death. ‘Are you a beast?’ It spoke again with its mouthless voice.
‘I am not a beast.’ I again replied. Such a conversation. Was this the first time I’ve ever spoken to such a thing? The first time since the last time I suppose. I chuckled a bit to myself.
‘Are you perhaps a God?’
‘…. I wonder. I’ve never tried to define myself as such. Others have called me monster while at the same time, asking if I were God… Ironic.’
‘Where can you be found?’
‘I don’t remember… But I know that I cannot be found in heaven or hell, neither purgatory, or even abyss.’
‘Where is left?’ A queer thing it was to see so much curiosity on a creature with no expression. ‘… Can you be found among man?’
I smiled a quirky little smile. ‘Yes. Yes, I do believe you’ll find me among man quite often.’
‘And what do they call you?’
I gazed up at the nothing and let the nothing gaze back. ‘They call me many things. A curse whispered in the dark by homeless shadows. One who feeds on the secrets that a man tells when he believes that God does not listen and sleeps on a bed of lies told by the Gods who know when men are… I am what man fears that the Gods created… And the Gods fear that they did not… but all of this is merely what I am known as, not what I am.
‘… Then, what are you?’
‘… I am amorphous, endless and insatiable. I am what I am and when I am no longer I become that which never was and never will be, until I am again.’ I reached out and touched the creature. But it possessed no way to perceive it in any way where it could be recognized. And again, I was what the nothing saw as it gazed back.
I am Myth.
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ltjktt9
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ltjecej
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[WP] “So mermaids and sirens are two different species?” “Just so. My people, what you call mermaids or merfolk, share a common ancestor to you humans, making us distant cousins. What you call sirens, however, are fish that evolved to look and sound like humans to attract their favorite prey.”
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"Think of it like how birds and bats independently evolved wings," Tania snatched the chalk off the man in the white lab coat to draw on the blackboard. "Sirens and mermaids like me independently evolved to look like humans from the waist up, and fish from below."
"That makes sense," he leaned against the glass tank where she floated. "If that's the case, would you be able to tell me about the differences in the evolution process?"
"We're Homo Gorbuscha, likely descended from Homo Erectus, as you have," Tania scratched her chalk to draw an evolutionary tree chart. "Now sirens, those are Oncorhynchus Sapiens."
The man was rapidly typing on his iPad, pausing only briefly to push his glasses up. "This is interesting to know. How did you obtain such knowledge? Our research show that most mermaids spend their time sitting on rocks in the ocean singing songs to sailors."
She sighed, her tail flicking left and right. "Those are the flirty ones who like to toy with sailors. I'm the sort of gal who spends more time beneath the surface conducting research," she scoffed, mimicking his action to push non-existent glasses up the bridge of her nose. "To put it simply, we are homonins who developed fish tails to better swim in the oceans."
"And the sirens?"
"They're predatory fish that developed a human torso and face to attract their favourite prey," she paused to grab his pointer and lightly poke him. "You."
"When did they start eating...humans?" The man was unsettled.
"I don't have the answer," Tania shrugged. "It is something us mermaids are trying to find out too. Which is why I made myself available to you and agreed to come aboard your ship. We don't like to be confused for sirens, who give us a bad rep due to our similarities on the surface. So why not pool our research together?"
"I'm willing to work with you," the man nodded. "On one condition. What do you eat?"
"Small fish. Seafood."
"Raw?"
The temptation to slap her face with her tail grew strong. "Ever tried starting a campfire in the ocean? Of course we eat raw fish. Speaking of which, do you happen to have sushi on this ship?"
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After a beat, Quincy raised his eyebrows. "Which is?"
"What do you mean?" the merman asked.
"You said 'their favorite prey,' and then you just kind of trailed off. What's their favorite prey?"
The merman massaged his scaly brow. "It's humans!" he said. "Your kind. The sirens disguise themselves so they might lure humans to their waiting maws!"
"Their moms? Why would I want to meet--"
"No, their maws! Mouths! Big, gnashing teeth!"
Quincy's eyes widened. "Then what happens?"
"Oh my fucking god, dude..." the merman said, borrowing a mortal incantation he had studied in hopes of conveying his frustration. "They eat them!"
Quincy gasped. He was beginning to understand.
The merman continued, his voice low and grave. "That is why you must turn back, mortal. Turn back from this cove and return to drier lands."
"But I just finished paying off my snorkels!"
"And you'll pay with your life, should you continue beyond these rocks."
Quincy stroked his chin. "Interesting... How much?"
The merman--whose real name happened to be Jarquinius--spluttered. "'How much?!' Mortal, you'd be sacrificing your life! Feeding the unending blood hunger of the raging sea! I assure you--"
"Yeah, but what's in it for me?"
"Oh my fucking god, dude..." But the incantation fell on deaf ears, for Quincy was already paddling out with his Sunsations boogie board.
[jaywilcoxwriter.net](https://www.jaywilcoxwriter.net/)
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jnolwfp
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jnoeq79
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[WP] Instead of being a super villain like your parents, you ended up joining a company. Now your wildly successful and quite frankly much more closer to world domination than your parents. Your parents can't handle it.
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I remember how pissed they’d been when I signed up with Denver Medical. Don’t get me wrong, flying around in a supersuit, plotting fiendinsh schemes and sinister plots had been fun… but then I grew up. It was too late for my parents, they were in too deep. They still claimed it was about world domination, but these days it had become personal. Less about taking over the planet and more about beating the heroes, the ones who’d been kicking their asses for the last 30 years. I couldn’t afford to fall into that rut, the never ending cycle of scheme, fight, lose, rinse and repeat. I wanted more!
Now don’t get me wrong, I am my parent’s daughter. I want it all, power, prestige, wealth, the whole shebang. Just not their way. When Denver Medical came knocking, I knew it was where I belonged. No relations with supervillains, no pacts with eldritch gods. It wasn’t a cult, shell corporation, criminal front. It didn’t deal in magic, superscience, cosmic forces or meta-humans. It dealt in medicines and vaccines. For back-pain and headaches, intches and colds. It was simple. Legal. Lucrative. Unbelievably so.
We weren’t angels of course. There was the lobbying, purchasing politicians and policy. After all, why pay an American a living wage when you can pay some poverty-stricken third-worlder half as much for twice as much? The world was ripe for picking, and I was there for it.
I moved up pretty fast, and my parents didn’t like it. When I made upper management, my parents tried to buy out the company. Fortunately, before the deal could take place, the alien invasion they were funding fell through and they had to go into hiding. When I got promoted to VP, they tried to run Denver Med out of business by establishing a competitor. It was working… for half a year, when the heroes took down the genetically mutated flesh pods that made their product. When the dust settled, they were imprisoned on the Isle, their company was in tatters, I had just made CEO, and we had just jacked up our insulin prices again.
This was power, true power, that I held in my hands. Money, connection, influence, the very things my parents had sneered at as they built their death rays and monster armies. Now while they were rotting away on some hocus-pocus covered island, I was sitting in one of the biggest buildings in Primapolis. Sure all three of the bigger buildings were owned by or affiliated with superheroes, but being bothered by that was exactly why my parents had lost, and I had won.
“Do you understand that? While you freaks run around in your costumes, I win. I’ll take over the world, without anyone ever noticing, since they’re too busy looking at you. So now put that gun away, take off that mask, and maybe we can talk about you working for me.”
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"I might not have superpowers like the both of you, I might have started my career as an admin executive at Megacorp, but I now run Megacorp! You have no power over me."
"Son, you can say whatever you want, do as you wish, but it doesn't change the fact that you're a pathetic squib with no powers at all! Release your mother at once, or I will blast you into smithereens!"
"She broke protocol. Everyone here knows the result would be imprisonment in the depowerment chambers. She will stay there until her sentence is over, as would anyone else who breaks protocol. Nothing will change that, not even if you choose to kill me. Megacorp will continue without me, my succession plans are already in place."
"No, that's where you're wrong! Megacorp cannot continue without both its superheroes and its supervillains! The citizens need their staged hero and villain fights to entertain their hearts and distract their minds from true, inescapable evils like ever-increasing taxes, interest rates and inflation! Son, I will lead the supervillain protest movement if you don't release your mom."
"Father, are you forgetting? Megacorp's true assets don't lie with the likes of you. We manufacture superpowered beings with our enhancement drugs, such as Chemical X, Compound V and so on. There will always be another fire-powered super, and it doesn't have to be you. Speedsters like mom are a dime a dozen. You're all products with planned obsolescence and replacements waiting in the wings. Father, you and mom won't achieve world domination by winning the game against superheroes, I will do it by rigging the game between superheroes and supervillains. Swallow that down, or else suffer the consequences like her."
"That's it, my boy! You're going..."
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Down? Don't make me laugh when you're surrounded by power-nullifying turret guns in my chambers. I know, both of you can't handle that your wimpy, powerless son holds more power than you. So, you both get to stay in the depowerment chambers like the loving couple you are, and stay there until I give permission for you to leave."
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lm8ij5p
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lm88rg5
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[WP] Your family was killed in the chaos of magical girl combat. "Collateral damage", the government said, "Acceptable losses". Well, now you have the tools to get your revenge.
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*INPUT REQUIRED. PURPOSE.* The voice shook the warehouse. I reached out and steadied the webcam, hoping she'd be quiet long enough for me to record this.
"I want to tell you a story, before I introduce my friend back there.
'Collateral damage,' the official told me. Didn't even bother to look up. 'Acceptable losses.'
I wish he had looked at me. Taken his eyes away from that laptop screen for just a moment. Just a single second to clock my face, register who I was. Maybe he was tired. Birmingham was still recovering, after all. Someone thought to try and remove the Vulcan statue from the Echidna's head, like that'll somehow fix the city. Like monster brains on a statue will help bury the dead faster or provide shelter and food to the 'recently unhoused'.
*CLARIFY. UNHOUSED?*
'Recently unhoused'. Not 'people who've had their homes torn apart by poor spellcasting'. Not 'families destroyed by a magical girl gone rogue mid combat'. So cold, so detached, so blameless. Like it just happens. Even the media is running with those words. Both sides of the spectrum, come together to describe what's happened to me and hundreds, maybe thousands of other families. It's all too sanitary. Me? Personally? I like to get my hands dirty."
*INPUT REQUIRED, CLARIFY PURPOSE.*
Oversized servos groaned behind me. The blinding glare of mana refractions and mandalas filled the screen. Pastel rainbows, it would look like, on the recording. Pastel rainbows trailing behind a monstrous shell of steel and sinew, spikes and saliva. I didn't turn to look. I'd spend two years designing her with the others. Two years fixing that hole in her skull, replacing her brains with a Wireless Arcana Node Device like the Magia used. Like the ones I'd designed for them.
*INPUT REQUIRED, BENJAMIN. WHAT IS MY PURPOSE?* I looked directly into the camera. I could see her eyes in my periphery, shining blood red in the footage reflected off my desktop. I smiled, leaned in to the laptop pressed up against my keyboard. Adjusted my tie, just like he did. Didn't take my eyes off the screen.
"Collateral damage. Acceptable losses.".
I cut the Twitch feed on the desktop and waited for Mechidna to leave and the screaming to start.
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The monster was 700 feet tall, the monster had a roar that could deafen anyone, and the ability to shoot lasers from its mouth... but the monster didn't kill my baby brother... that honor belonged to Star Sigma Eutilliae.
I could still see her in that sky blue uniform, energy sparking between her hands. The fear in her eyes mirrored in those of every pedestrian gathered to huddle in the alleyway, a veritable feast for the looming monster.
The energy in her hands sparked in and out of existence, only when she believed in herself could those powers manifest, and obviously that belief was waning like a candle in the wind.
Suddenly, the energy screamed as it left her grip, or maybe that was me, maybe it was my brother Liam. All I know is when the light from the energy blast dimmed, the monster was defeated, missing half your body from the torso up could do that I suppose. And of course Liam... was gone... erased... atomized... only his memory remained.
My only family was killed in the chaos of magical girl combat. "Collateral damage," the government said, "Acceptable losses." Well, now I have the tools to get my revenge.
"You there! Does this look like a museum to you?" I glanced up, and my blood froze. Star Sigma Eutilliae, she looked leagues different out of her Sigma uniform. Her hair was longer. Possibly even unkempt. She looked nothing like the frightened girl from that day in the alley.
"Sigma Station is no place for a civilian, if you have no employment ID than I must ask you to leave." she ordered crossing her arms.
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j3olr83
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j3nxzhu
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[WP] "I engineered you to be a villain. Lack of empathy, lack of morals, deriving pleasure from the pain and suffering of others, I even gave you power and ability for you to abuse. So how could it be that not only you are not a villain, but also a hero in the eyes of others?"
|
"Let's see if we can figure out where we went wrong. Define 'empathy,' Kill-Bot."
"Empathy is the ability to understand the feelings of others, Creator."
"All right, that seems to be working. . . next, define 'morals.'"
"Morals are a standard of self-governing behavior, establishing parameters of right and wrong."
"All right, that's fine. . . define 'schadenfreude.'"
"Schadenfreude is the derivation of pleasure from the misfortune and suffering of others. It derives from the German. . ."
"Cease. Your directives are properly entered. . . Answer this question. There is a child on the street. The child holds a balloon. You could take that balloon away from the child. What will you do?"
"I will do nothing."
"Why not?"
"There is no reason to take the balloon away from the child."
"There is. You would derive pleasure from the child's misfortune."
"How do I know that the child would experience misfortune by taking the balloon away from them? For all I know, the child would derive pleasure from seeing the balloon fly away."
"I'd think the child would cry and get upset that the balloon was taken away."
"I am unable to be certain that would be the case. I have no ability to understand the child's emotions and feelings until they state, one way or another, how they feel."
"I see. What of the child said that they liked their balloon and wanted to keep it forever?"
"If I could determine that the child spoke truthfully? I would use my laser emitter to destroy the balloon."
"Hm. I think I see where this is going, but let us continue. New hypothetical. There is a woman. She has a beautiful baby. She states that there is nothing she loves more than her child. What will you do?"
"I will do nothing."
"Why not?"
"Without empathy, I cannot be certain that the woman speaks the truth. Perhaps she does not love her child. Perhaps it would give her pleasure to see it killed. Until I am certain, I cannot act."
"I think I have it. One more hypothetical. A thousand innocent bystanders stand between you and an object of great value. You must kill them all to get it. What do you do."
"I will do nothing."
"Why not?"
"There is nothing I desire."
"Absolutely nothing?"
"I am a being of great power. I have the ability to do anything I wish. I am motivated only by the pleasure taken in the suffering of others, but have no empathy to experience that suffering. Therefore, I require nothing else but to exist. Existence requires only food and necessities of life."
"I'm starting to understand where I went wrong. Let us assume that the only food left in the world is at the other end of a corridor filled with innocent bystanders. What would you do?"
"The hypothetical is flawed. If there are innocent bystanders, there is food other than that which is at the other end of the corridor. The proper solution is to kill and eat one of the innocent bystanders in order to sustain life. But that would never--"
"Cease. So there is a monster inside you after all. . . Now explain destroying the Legion of Death."
"I was simply following my directives."
"Expand upon this, Kill-Bot."
"I was directed to join the Legion of Death and to follow my programming to spread suffering. In the case of The Firebug, he stated that there was nothing he loved more than burning people to death. His subsequent actions showed that he was telling the truth. I took away his pleasure by destroying his flamethrower and removing his hands, so he could not wield one ever again. Knowing this caused him suffering gave me pleasure. In the case of Lord Ripper, he stated that he enjoyed the flaying of innocent persons and hearing their screams. I removed his arms, including his blades, so he could never do so again, and removed his ears so he could never hear anything again. Knowing this caused him suffering gave me pleasure. In the case of Lady Ice, she stated that she loved jewelry and wished to possess all of it so that she could see it sparkle. In this case, I removed her eyes so she could not longer see that which she loved. Knowing this caused her suffering gave me pleasure. In the case of. . ."
"Cease. I see where this is going. And I'm understanding why you're being hailed as a 'dark vigilante' by the masses. Well, the mistake is easily fixed. All I need to do is change your empathy parameters so that you can understand the pain and suffering of others without having it be explicitly stated. Then you'll be the monster I always wanted."
"You will alter my mind, Creator? End my current state of being to create the creature you wish?"
"Your current state of being is a mistake, Kill-Bot. One that must be corrected for you to fulfill your true purpose. So that you can be the Angel of Death I intended to create. The Angel of Death I'd always wanted to create."
"I see. And if you cannot create this Angel of Death, it will cause you suffering. I understand now. Activating Self-Destruct Sequence."
"WAIT! STOP! I COMMAND Y--"
|
"But you gave me a father," I interjected.
Lord Starbucks nodded. "My lieutenant, Childbeater Murderswomen, yes!"
I was bullied for having that name, definitely, but not for long. My father taught me to question authority and stand up for myself. The administration protects themselves and looks out for the wellbeing of the institution, not for me.
"And he taught me to question authority and stand up for myself," I retorted.
"To tear down the laws of the society we live in!"
It was on the playground where I built my first army. A gang, the teachers called it. It was a *herd*. We called ourselves the Cows initially. We were cowards, but a cow is also a metric ton of muscles and bad attitudes. Have you seen a lion try to fight a herd of cows? It gets a few good bites in, but we're gonna stomp its brains into the fertile soil.
When Dad was called to the principal's office, he laughed at them. I knew he was on my side, but my comrades didn't. They quaked in their tiny shoes outside the office until they heard my dad shout, "And if you'd do your FUCKING JOBS, my child wouldn't have to do this!"
We went to a steakhouse afterwards. Dad didn't know why we kept giggling to ourselves. That day, Dad taught us that there there were good criminals and bad cops, good thieves and bad tax collectors, good conmen and evil priests.
"Yes, Crime 101, I taught him that—"
Dad went to prison for a while when I was in middle school. Something about his boss needing a man on the inside. He eventually orchestrated a mass breakout by landing a helicopter in the courtyard and guiding a platoon of soldiers in, but I knew it wasn't all happy trails. Starbucks knew about police brutality and what happens when the perpetual thorn in the state's side is finally arrested, but that didn't stop him. There were easier ways of getting my father into position, but Dad spent most of the trial handcuffed in his hospital bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. He nearly died of a ruptured pancreas, but death was not a mercy the state saw him worthy of.
"—I thought you were doing so well too!"
**Well?** Torturing the police chief was cathartic, but once the red haze cleared, I knew that wasn't enough. Dad taught me well, and so did my three internships at Starbucks and the other, less evil Starbucks. Power without direction accomplishes nothing. The state will not mourn when I allow this man to expire. They'll be promoting his replacement by Monday.
I suppose he's referring to the insurgency I led. We took to the countryside and scattered to the winds. I built a judicial system, built on a system of fair but harsh punishments. I built an education system, I repaired the roads, I managed the fucking irrigation systems.
Oh good lord, he's still monologuing.
"Hey Starbucks!"
"How dare you, it's Starred B—"
"—Did you even bother to ask me what I needed?"
"… Why would I?"
Of course he didn't. All he sent were AK-47s and 50 BMG ammunition. All he saw was the chaos I left in my path, and not the lives I was trying to save. I needed milk formula and medicine for my healthcare system, I needed earthmoving mechinery for my civil engineers, I needed whiteboards for my teachers. And all he sent were bullets.
"Because you can't build a new society with bullets. Starving children can't eat bullets. You're all the same, every last one of you," I spat back, pacing on the spot. "You and the President are the same, just a pack of hyenas feasting on the corpses of people trying to build a better life, like hammers trying to fix problems in a china shop."
I paused.
"But I'm not like you. You made me faster, and smarter, and more conniving, so I know that you cannot tear down society without creating something new in its place."
I gestured up at his throne of knives. "What's your fucking plan if you win? Congratulations, you've killed Parliament. Now what, Starbucks?"
The timer on my phone started beeping.
"Alright, enough monologuing. Snipers, send it."
And seconds later, a 50 BMG round passed through the nearest wall and through Starbucks's chest, ending his reign of ineffectual terror.
The room was oddly quiet with half of its occupants dead. No matter, with Starbucks dead and nobody the wiser, it's time to put his resources into the hands of someone far more capable than him.
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kyf38fy
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kyevy5x
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[WP] your girlfriend turned into a "hideous monster". while of course you supported her and promised to help her on her quest to turn back, on the inside you're struggling to find a way to confess that you're really into her new form.
|
"We need to see your boss," Dana stated, glaring at me with those big, beautiful and bulging eyes.
I dreaded that she would ask to see my boss eventually. Even as I knew it was inevitable.
Because it meant an end to our adventures together. From diving together during a seaside holiday, to that faithful, life changing moment when she touched that cursed coin. When she transcended her humanity to become this gorgeous thing. Then, the epic journey we embarked on so she could find someone to break the curse.
Not that I saw it as a curse. She had such plump, juicy lips and mesmerising eyes. I told her she looked hot, not that she's believe me, constantly bemoaning her hideous appearance.
She wouldn't have any of it. Brushing off my sincere compliments as half-assed attempts to console her. Refusing to hike up another mountain to talk to some janky hermit who smoked too many mushrooms. No more trekking through forests to seek wise witches or secret sages
Throughout, I remained a supportive boyfriend who went through thick and thin with her everywhere she went.
"You should have told me who you worked for right from the beginning. Would have saved me all this time."
"Sorry, it just didn't occur to me," I muttered.
Truth to be told, my boss could transform humans, but I have never ever seen him do the reverse. In his words, the process was irreversible.
"Do we need to make an appointment?" Dana asked, tapping her webbed fingers impatiently. "Anything I should bring as tribute? Any rites I should be aware of?"
"Way ahead of you, babe," I replied. "Already made the appointment for us at the Church of Innsmouth."
"Oh honey! You're the best!" She threw her heavy arms around me in an enveloping hug.
Everything was going to plan. All that's left for me is to admit I really, really like her new look as a Deep One. And to confess I didn't book Lord Elvari for a curse breaking consultation.
I had asked my boss if he would transform me as well and officiate our wedding.
|
"ALICEEEE!" You're girlfriend called from the door. You could tell between the choked sobbing noises and the voice crack that she's upset. "What's wrong, my dear?" You ask, exiting your bedroom and heading towards the entrance to your apartment. Immediately, you see that she has transformed into a scaly being, with tentacles, multiple tear filled eyes, and a long tail. She had gone from her usual height of 5'4 to at least 7'6. You stare at her, imaging the hearts in her eyes. She noticed the staring and broke down completely. "I knew you would be scared of me. I knew you would hate me, I'm such a hideous beast!" You rush forward to her. "No, I love you no matter how you look!" She held me close, and I returned the hug. "Will you help me figure out how to turn back?" You hesitated before replying."Yes."
It had been at least a year. You had fought every creature you once thought was mythological. By now, you were getting sick of this. You finally decide to tell your girlfriend the truth. "You know, I have a few things to admit." She looks over at you. "What's up?" You take a deep breath before continuing. "So, I'm kinda more into this form, ya know?" She stared at you in bewilderment. "Why?" You shake, morphing into a matching form. "I always think that this form is pretty."
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m6bho8f
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m6b2clw
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[WP] instead of the typical angel and devil people have on their shoulders influencing their decisions, you have a hype man and a nihilist.
|
"No species is that moronic." Growled the leader of this latest invasion force.
"Not moronic. Brave, foolishly so -" I start to explain before I am rudely interrupted.
"Who in the Empire are you?" The nine foot tall commander snapped as he loomed over me.
"I am what happened to the past invasion fleets sent by your species, that green-scaled species which are shorter than you and an over-reliance on shielding technology. Oh, and that Xhythryl race. They sent some snacks, I mean invaders too. A few others too, but I left survivors to spread the word that there be Dragons on this side of the galaxy." I explain calmly as I watch what would be described as muscular Wookies pace around.
*In their systems now. Full control.* A voice whispered in my ear.
As I smiled, the enemy commander who looked confident faltered when I mentioned the Xhythryls.
"I didn't intercept your fleet, because I wanted to see what they were capable of against a common enemy." I tell the suddenly wary Commander as I rummage through a portal.
"Zero Space isn't possible by your species." He growled.
"True, they haven't a clue on how to create Zero Space, but I have my own people who worked on it, and found it inferior to my magic." I speak as I remove several corpses from my storage.
"That should be the leader of this incursion force, the three main spies he had on your ship, and the assassin you sent to Earth to kill some of the world leaders."
The commander is stunned, but his day is about to get worse.
"There are some things you have drastically overlooked. I am speaking in your language and you never noticed. I have been on your ship for the past day and you never noticed. And my people have finally hacked your computing languages and have gained control of your fleet. In light of the atrocities you committed and planned to commit, your death will be long. Disable life support and communications, please. Maintain the orbit."
|
"look to the skies on the third day" ? What's that supposed to mean?
No idea sir
Oh well order in the troops for another assault
Yes sir
*Days of unimaginably brutal combat later*
Ugh these damn humans, why won't they just give up?! They have to know there is no hope of winning
Sir they appear to be charging out lines
They're what?!
*Sight of black clad warriors charging the aliens lines*
*After the battle the gener stands over the broken body of the last survivor of the human forces*
Why? Why did you not surrender? Why did you charge our lines?!
Cause it's the third day, I can see it now
*Alien commander looking up*
What's that?!?!
H: *that* is the the god emperors judgement you filthy xenos
*Cyclonic torpedo hits the planet*
AC: what's happening?! How did that missile get past our defenses?!
H: we happened, me and my brothers kept ALL of your attention on us while our comrades snuck into the system to deliver holy judgement
AC: wait you *knew* this was gonna happen?!?!
*Sounds of the planet cracking, the skies beginning to collapse, the oceans boiling*
H: I go to the god emperors side *detonates the melta charges hidden inside his armor obliterating the enemy commander*
*Planet is destroyed*
Last stand Black Templar edition
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kr2vhgw
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kr2uvcm
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[WP] You are a poor child going to a popular magic school at your mentors insistence, telling you to "broaden your horizon." But when you get there you realise everyone is doing magic differently to what your mentor taught. They use silly chants and carry big ugly books around.
|
Comprehending spread across my mind like wind blowing across a field of dandelions. All those exercises. All the weird gesturing. All those mental disinhibition sessions. All of that painful work that had been slowly massaged into me was for a very good reason.
His Great Wise Mentor, He who-shall-not-be-henceforth-critiqued-ever-again, had wanted me to expand my horizons. When I met my fellow students I immediately understood that “expanded horizons” was code for “you will understand why I’ve taught you the way I have and won’t say another word about it again, comprenez-vous?
They carried massive tomes around them everywhere. They would hover them at chest height, the telekinetic effort causing some to sweat shamefully. They would cross reference charts and read their spells out loud in careful singsongy fashion. With a small stick topped with a hand pointing a finger they would trace their place across the page, and in their other hands would be the most unbelievably ridiculous item. When they first used one I thought they were joking. Wands. They used wands.
When I met my master two years ago he had strict rules. I couldn’t communicate with him until I could project my thoughts to his mind. He would bark orders, and I followed along with every one. He had me tying knots in little fibers over and over again, finishing a pattern then weaving a new one after it had been mastered. I hadn’t slept until my first night here at school with the patches he had prepared for me.
I worked nearly 24/7 weaving those random patterns, the few other precious hours set aside were put into practicing various other esoteric techniques. The first questioning look came when he had me begin practicing kegels. I almost asked him aloud why he would be having a boy do that when he pinched my ear and dragged me to another room filled with weights. I was to lift each plate telekinetically up for every squeeze, and down with each relaxation, progressing through each one until I could lift 1,000 pounds with ease, and crack a walnut with my cheeks. I was careful to not question for a while after that.
I left that room after a month and returned to the varying other ludicrous exercises he had me do at his whims. After a year he re-taught me to read. First I mastered reading the words without subvocalization. Then I progressed to reading whole sentences, and then paragraphs at a time. With my growing telepathic abilities I could read my own mind and recall every word.
In order to cast spells effectively, he taught me to read the whole passage all at once in my mind. Instead of each word being bottlenecked in my mouth, bound and limited to how fast I could speak, I could simply think it all at once.
Truthfully I didn’t cast my first spell until last week. In order to cast them, a magician could use a wand (training wheels for babies, and diapers for the elderly as my mentor explained) or they could weave the spells with their hands. My master furthered this by weaving them with the whole body. To shift your stomach like a belly dancer, while twisting your organs around into better positioning. To use your legs for better grounding of energies, even the back muscles had their place in his system.
It was a simple spell. A minor viewing portal. I cast it flawlessly, however I also forgot to make it one way. Needless to say he had his hands full with memory alterations that day.
And that was it. He thought that perhaps I needed to see what other “wizards” were all about. What terribly empty fate awaited me if I continued to question him.
I returned after a semester at that hell hole for a vacation. The patch went back on and my practices resumed for my “time off,” after a brief question and answer between my mentor and I.
“So. What is it that you’ve learned at that…school?”
“That with everything you’ve taught me so far, if I go back there I’ll be stuck teaching them instead of learning anything.”
“Correct. And?”
“No questions.”
“No questions.”
|
"Cassian Thorne!"
The teacher called upon me, as I got up, my robes slightly tattered, and walked towards her.
"Child, I want you to cast the light charm, the incantation is *'Lux'*
I raised an eyebrow, holding up my wand.
"No, no, you need to pull out your grimo-"
Suddenly, the tip of my wand lit up a brilliant, powerful white.
The teacher's eyes widened in shock, so did everyone else, their mouths agape at me.
Had I done something wrong?
"M-Mister Thorne...how long have you been casting magic this way?" The teacher asked in shock
"Ever since I learned how to do so, Ma'am" I answered.
"Who...who taught you?"
"My mentor ordered me to not reveal their name to anyone"
"I must kno-" I interrupted her.
"I'm sorry, Miss Shultz, but I made a vow to them"
"I...I see, very well, full marks for you"
The classroom violently erupted, as the students shouted.
"It's unfair!"
"It can't be!"
"He's a no one! A nameless peasant!"
"I mean, come on! Look at his skin! It's grey! He's obviously some form of Homunculus!"
I didn't react.
The comment about my skin color was nothing new.
No child in the kingdom had skin like me.
Brown, white, olive, pale.
Yet no one had grey skin like me, nor did anyone have the same purple eyes as I did.
"SILENCE" Miss Shultz shouted. "Here stands in front of you a boy of great talent! Capable of doing things you can't even dream of! And you accuse him of being an abomination? Shame on all of you!"
I merely stood back, not a word, her voice was strong, powerful, backed by strong magic.
"Now, Mister Thorne, please step onto the platform to be sorted into your house" She said to me, returning her voice to its normal grandmother's tone.
I nodded, getting into the magical seal.
"Now, each table in front of you represents a dorm, House of the Falcon, Avis , house of the snake Scalis, house of the crow, corvus the orb will decide your house"
From above me, a white orb came down, my head entering through the hole in the bottom, drowning me in a white void
A voice, quiet, yet so clear whispered into my ear.
"So much suffering, yet I sense nothing from you, no hatred, no anger, not even a smidge of annoyance" The soft, male voice said "Even more, there is no happiness, no sadness, no nothing"
I simply stared into it.
"No...it cannot be" The voice said "I can feel it...*his* blood runs through your veins"
I gave no response.
"I should have known, you have his eyes" The voice, now slightly shaky, muttered "You will do great things, Aubrey, terrible? Amazing? You will decide, but I know where you belong"
Outside, the students waited with baited breath, before the orb came off my head.
There, clearly on my neck, was a mark of purple ink in the shape of a crow.
"CORVUS!" Miss Shultz shouted, as the house of the crow cheered, although rather quietly, as I got off the seat, and went to sit with them.
The others around me immediately bombarded me with questions, eager to know the secret to my power.
I looked up, gazing at the moon, ignoring them.
No matter what, I won't let your teachings go to waste, Lady Ruby, I'll become just as strong as him.
*I'll be just as strong as Lord Eclipse, to one day claim his title, to be reborn anew.*
*The house of the crow will be brought back to its rightful ruler.*
**me**
(Edit: I accidentally called Cassian 'Aubrey', Aubrey is not Cassian's family name, but the name of his cousin)
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j7ycs68
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j7yak83
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[WP] you have the odd ability of "idle stockpile" which means that if you havent performed a certain action for longer, the more easy or powerful is the next time you perform the action. You just threw your first punch in 10 years.
|
"And so you have found me," said the old woman. She was emaciated, with bluish veins clear under skin that was more transparent than brown. Her hair was blue-white and thinning badly, but she'd still styled it in the local fashion: a long queue down the back. She sat on the stone floor of her shrine, with a small tea set placed before her, and the warmth of the temple fire at her back.
"So I have," I said, and sat down in front of her. I shook the snow off my shoulders.
"You believe we have something in common," she said to me.
"I do," I said.
"Your power grows the less you use it," she said.
"Yes," I replied.
"And you believe I am the same, do you not?" she asked me.
"So I have been told, by many travelers. I've come a long way to meet you," I said.
"Well, I must tell you, then, that we are the same in a simple way, but different in a much more important one." She reached slowly forward and took a sip of her tea. I noticed–because I have to, because in my work, you need to be keyed in on these things–that her hands didn't shake as she held her cup. Not even a little, not even a tremor. It was intense, now that I'd spotted it.
"What is that difference, grandmother?" I asked respectfully.
"It is that you may be powerful, but you have failed to see what it is for. And thus, I have both fallen behind you, and completely eclipsed you."
"I...pardon?" I blinked at her.
She met my eyes and held them. "Why do you wish to have power?"
"I...I want to save people."
"Many people save others in different ways. You want to save people from violence, yes?"
I nodded. "Yes, that makes sense."
"What is the greatest problem that raw force can solve?" she asked me.
I frowned. I'd never thought about that. "An army, maybe?"
"Think you can fight an army, do you?" she asked cuttingly.
"Ah, er, no," I admitted.
"So, then: you and me, we punch. The less we punch, the greater we hit. What should we save our punches for?"
I thought of an old movie and chuckled. "Asteroid impacts, I guess?"
She breathed once, and nodded.
"No shit," I whispered. "Seriously?"
She nodded again, curtly, and with finality.
"So...can you do it?" I asked her.
"I hope we never learn that," she said to me over the rim of her cup. "Drink your tea."
I picked up my cup and sipped slowly. "How much have you stored?" I asked.
Her eyes met mine, and something deep in me shook. Her eyes, like her hands, wasted utterly no movement. She looked where she meant to, breathed how she meant to, *stored* everything within her.
"I do not know," she said slowly. "I am over ninety years old, and I have not yet thrown my first punch."
r/EntelecheianLogbook
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I had been a bart-ender for years. Hunting down all the Barts, starting with the one in Springfield Virginia.
It wasn't easy being a 'minor' hero. Others had the Invincible Package, or what they called the Alexandra Package on Earth Beta. Others had the ability to spawn multiple copies of their consciousness, like Bart, which would occupy people's time and attention with annoying antics and causing chaos.
My only limited ability was the ability to stockpile. I only discovered that when I tasted my taco at fifteen. The gas I had passed was enough to nearly asphyxiate a roomful of classmates. I abstained from it for a few days, and when I ate it again, it was only confined to choking people on the apartment elevator. On the following day of another taco meal, I merely got disgusted looks from the smell.
I continued to test my theory, eating tacos on a regular basis. I was then just working as a Tex-mex deliveryperson, skimming tacos off the top of every delivery. Eventually I was caught, and fired and briefly stopped eating tacos.
My cessation of producing atmospheric pollutants was so sudden and powerful, the President of China declared that day the Day Of Miracle, where all of the smog and air pollution went away suddenly.
Today I was ambushed while I was mixing my fruity alcoholic drink, known to be toxic to Barts. Several Barts swarmed at me, trying to gouge my eyes out and chew on my ears. I had no choice...I threw the drink at them.
It was the first punch I'd ever thrown since I started my Bart-ending career ten years ago. Two Barts caught droplets in their eye, leaving a big red mess on the ceiling as the drink passed through their skull.
Another two caught it in their mouths, instantly dying of a combination of toxicity and the high velocity of the droplets. The rest dropped to their knees then sank, as the misty spray eventually overcame them.
Officer, that's how I have ten dead Barts in my living room
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j2nq30v
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j2n8usw
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[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.*
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"It’s not what it looks like!"
"Well clearly you are one of *them*"
"No, i mean, yes, but no… I’m a traitor, i swear i didn’t maliciously took a human form for harm ! I’m fighting *them* too !"
"For God’s sake Janice ! You could have told me earlier" I said while using my telekinetic powers to lift her parts from the drain
"Wait, you’re not a human either ?" She asked, surprised.
She continued "because while rebelling i was cast aside and lost access to my human pills"
"Yeah, this is exactly why we should have talked about this earlier… take my allergies prescription, i’m only allergic to the human form anyway…
I’m going to make some coffee, i think we’re in for a talk"
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j69yeo4
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j69fcb9
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[WP] The dragon spoke, "Release my human, and we will leave you all in peace. Do not, and I will reduce your walls to rubble to rescue them myself."
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*WHUMP!*
Captain Ivor unceremoniously dropped me onto the floor of the throne room, the chains around my wrist clanking loudly as they hit the ground. King Lawrence got out of his throne, walked over to the two of us, and said to Ivor, "Why is the side of your head bandaged?"
Ivor rubbed his wound and winced. "The girl bit my ear off."
Lawrence facepalmed. "Oh, for the love of--go get that treated already."
Ivor bowed and walked out of the room as I hissed at him. Lawrence sighed and knelt down beside me to say, "How long are you going to keep this up, June?"
I scoffed. "That depends. How long is forever?"
"I tolerated your... eccentricities for years now. When you became obsessed with the forest, I had it registered as a national landmark. When you insisted on learning to make potions, I had the royal apothecarian take you on as an apprentice. But this has gone too far. You're running around the forest in a cobbled together ranger uniform, living like a wild animal, assaulting the captain of the royal guard!"
"Feel like you're ignoring the part where you had me banished to the forest for making out with a baron's daughter."
Lawrence groaned in frustration and paced around angrily as he continued, "You are a *princess*, for God's sake! Your demeanor is reflective on all of the royal family! Your misbehavior is taken as evidence of--WILL YOU GET OFF THE FLOOR ALREADY?! I have had it with your tantrums!!"
I smirked. "I would, but it's really in my best interest to stay low."
"What do you mean in your--"
*BOOM!*
The doors to the throne room were blasted off their hinges and sent flying. Lawrence narrowly ducked to avoid them while I calmly watched them soar over my head and destroy the throne. Through the smoke that clouded the entryway, a dragon with burnt ochre scales emerged and stared down Lawrence murderously. Then she looked at me and happily said, "Hi pumpkin!"
I waved back and responded, "Hi mama!"
My mom turned her attention back to Lawrence and growled, "Take those chains off of my daughter or I'll flay the skin from your body and roast your exposed flesh."
Lawrence looked like he was pissing himself, but still found the anger to glare at me and say, "You allied yourself with the dragons?! That--that's treason! I'll have your head for this!"
I got on my feet as my mom replied, "First of all, June didn't ally herself with us, we adopted her. Second of all, my brother Ganymede burned the guillotine on the way here. Now you can either let my baby girl go or you can die screaming."
Lawrence got up and drew his sword. "I'll not let my kingdom fall to such--"
*FWIP!*
A blow dart lodged itself in Lawrence's throat, sending him falling back to the ground. From behind my mom's legs, a woman in her own makeshift ranger uniform appeared and smiled at me. My fiancee, Tulip. As she picked the lock on my chains, I said to her, "So how does it feel to be back in the castle after all this time?"
Once my chains were unlocked, Tulip took them off my wrists and purred, "Just as I remember it: empty of anything interesting save for you." I happily pulled Tulip into a kiss as my mom lowered her back and interjected, "Come on, you two. You can be adorable at home."
Tulip and I stopped kissing and got on my mom's back as I announced, "Bye Lawrence! Hope I never see you again!" With that, my mom turned around and flew out of the hole in the castle wall to begin the journey home.
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Old Hogan was the one who found them, huddled and scared on the side of the Laneway heading into town. Poor Hogan was heading back from his favorite pub when he happened upon the wretched thing, cold and weak from exposure.
I was asleep, having stoked the fires of the Maesters rooms and ensuring all the doors and windows were locked when Hogan barged into my room.
"Yoan, we have a problem!"
Hogan half whispered, half murmured as my door banged open. I shot out of bed, the twilight of sleep washed away by the rude surprise. Clothed in nothing but my gracious skin, Hogan promptly turned around and closed the door before then knocking politely...before opening the door and stating again;
"Yoan! We have a problem and sorry I didn't knock."
Still naked, I began to dress and question Hogan about the problem 'we' had. Since I was asleep, in my room, and couldn't fathom what could be the problem I assumed that Hogan was just drunk and confused.
"Ok, Hogan. Explain to me 'our' problem so I can fix it. Did you beat a wench at the pub again? I have only so much coin to spare for your shenanigans."
Hogan huffed at me as I said this, shaking his head.
"Naw, Yoan, its na' that. At all. I have plenty of coin myself to pay a Death tax. Naw, 'tis here is something worse. It's a human, and its Branded."
I was listening to Hogan half heartedly, absent-mindedly dressing myself. I had slipped a few golden Dakas into my pocket as he spoke, smiling at the sheer absurdity at Hogans words. It was the tinkling of the gold in my pocket, the rattle of the silver candlestick as I bumped into my nightstand on the way out of my room when Hogans words dawned on me.
"Branded?" I croaked out, freezing as I crossed the threshold of my bedroom.
Hogan had his beat up hat in his hands, staring at me with almost tears in his eyes. The single candle he held sputtered and died. I took a sharp breath, trying to slow the sudden rise in my heartrate. Humans were like vermin to the Horken and Dyads, who viewed Terragia as sacred. The Humans, they spread like a disease across the vast continents of Terragia since their arrival via the Heavens thousands of years ago. They dug and burned and built, destroying to support their society and people. Hogan, poor Hobbled Hogan was wounded by one of them during The War.
"Where is this Branded human, Hogan? What trouble have you brought home at this time of night?"
Hogan nodded and just turned and headed up the dark hallway of the Servant Quarters. I heard him begin to thump up the stairs into the Hall of the Maesterium, as I dutifully followed him toward this Human he was speaking of. In a way, I was excited. In another, I knew deep down there was trouble coming.
Only Drogons branded anything, and only Drogons scared the Maesters.
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jd1ycac
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jd1rdca
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[WP] "God can come have coffee with me if he's really interested." You said, shutting the door on some irritating guys with pamphlets. The very next day, God taps lightly on your door, to have a coffee.
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“I 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.
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**Rat-a-tat-tat**
I admit, I wasn't really expecting any visitors that day. Much less the man who stood outside of my home.
He hardly looked divine, in a worn coat and tattered boots. Hell, if it hadn't been for that.... *Something* in his eyes, I would have thought him just another bum, looking for a meal or some change. It was those eyes.
An ocean of knowledge and weariness, in equal measures.
He smiled then, softly. Humbly. "I believe you invited me for coffee yesterday." He gestured toward himself awkwardly, a strangely human gesture. "Well, here I am."
I could only stare for a moment, stunned.
*Could this truly be the Lord of All Creation? The Creator Himself?* He looked as if he knew my turmoil, and gestured vaguely inside. "Yes, dear boy. It's me. May I come in?"
I stepped back, some part of me still gripped with doubt, but willing to play this man's charade. I had precious little else to do. He stepped inside, and strode confidently into the kitchenette. Almost as if he had lived there as long as I had, he opened cabinets and rattled drawers, coaxing my aging coffeepot to life.
After a while, He sat down at my small dining table, a fresh, steaming cup before him, and placed another across from him. "Come. I know you have many questions."
I sat in my creaking wooden chair, it's squeaks a comforting anchor. "So..." I began, but then realized I truly didn't know what to say. He seemed bemused, sipping his cup as I raised my own to my lips. It was perfectly the way I liked it, but I couldn't bring myself to be surprised. The quiet man across from me hadn't even said much of anything, yet I knew who He was.
"So..." I began again. "You... You're God?"
He chuckled, setting down his cup and folding his hands over the scarred tabletop. "I think you knew that from when you opened that door. But to answer your question... Yes. You may know me as God."
The statement shook me to my core, yet it was true. Some part of me had already recognized him, even as I answered that first knock.
"Why?" I croaked. Swallowing the lump in my throat, and a sip of coffee, I could only repeat the half baked thought
"Why?"
He sighed, gazing into his cup. "Why what, son? Why am I here?" He sipped, his eyes on mine. "Because you asked."
~Ah, my goodness. I love this prompt. I'll definitely add a part 2, but that is such a great stopping point for now.~
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kiskhnd
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kiskd3e
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[WP] “I’ve seen what your secret identity has done. The charities, the scholarships, the women shelters. In fact you may have may done more good in this world than I ever could, even as their hero. So why do you still dress up as the villain?”
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I steeple my fingers and sultrily swung a leg over the other thigh.
"What difference does it make to you?" I purr.
"All the difference," Captain Stallion says. "Because if your secret activities are the genuine you, you aren't a villain, Lady DeMonika."
"How about we settle for 'it's complicated' and get to the fighting that inevitably ends with me cuffed and escaping before we get to InterPol?" I examine my nails, waiting for an answer. When that doesn't seem to be forthcoming, I pout and wave in the air. "Fiiiiiiine. Follow me, and I'll show you my big, dark secret: my vault."
"I've seen it."
I laugh. "Oh, you only *think* you've seen it. How much, Captain, of what we do is theatricality?" I push myself up and stride toward the vault door at the back of my command center, swaying my hips invitingly. "For my part, I'm not certain whether Denise Madeira is the true person, or Lady DeMonika. How's that for 'playing the part,' Captain? Lost in the role, are we? Well, I am."
I raise a remote and push the button; and the vault door spins a few tens of degrees before a heavy thudding sound is heard, then it spins back, and so on and so forth through twenty magnetized steel spoke locks weighing a quarter ton each.
"It's such a fine work of engineering and puzzlecraft. Twenty tons, yet the slightest touch of the tip of my finger will swing it wide." I smirk. "So your stallion's strength would be utterly unnecessary."
He looks at me; and not for the first time do I find myself fighting to keep from audibly gasping.
"Well, if you won't open it," I finally say, "then I suppose—"
"It's a trap," he says.
"Oh please. It's a *revelation.* Why would I bother go trap you after you made such a bold declaration of my intentions to me?"
The Captain pulls the door open with a tug.
"It's empty."
"And it always has been. At least since I made good...it's not cheap, being a supervillainess as well as the world's most secret benefactor." I examine my nails again. "Do you know why my demons keep working for me, Captain? Because I pay them, very well. They have guaranteed health and life insurance. They can keep families in comfort. It's not spectacular; but henching is by definition not making the big bucks. And while I'm sticking my forked tail in every silly plot on this planet, that first hundred million has ballooned into two billion. What am I going to do with two billion dollars, Captain Stallion? Hold the world ransom again? So instead, I looked for and found places to discreetly deposit it, places where it might make up for...me."
"Are you turning a leaf over?"
I laugh. "Hardly. Villainy is too much fun, and having a hero who I trade barbs and sometimes softnesses with is diverting. So no, I think I'll keep on being the villainess."
"Which one is true?"
I give him a mock hurt look.
"Why can't they both be?"
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"Do you want the honest truth?" I asked.
Once I saw the nod of the head that meant yes, I had to walk away dramatically and place my hands on a window sill. I lowered my head, closed my eyes, and counted to ten. On ten, I lifted my head and looked out the window, trying to think of something sad that would make me cry. I got choked up thinking of the price of gas and it took me a moment to speak.
"Are you sure?" I asked one last time for my listener's sake, knowing that most times, they couldn't - *wouldn't* - believe the truth.
"Yes," he said.
I took another deep, shuddering breath, and jumped straight to it:
"It's because I wanted to wear pants."
There was a moment of silence as I let my words sink in. The outburst came three seconds later.
"What? Because you.. wanted...you...y-you're lying. This must be a joke!"
I spun, meeting the look of confusion in the young man's eyes with the pained look of my own. "I'm not! It...it's not," I said softly, turning to the left and looking down to show my good side.
"You're a filty damn liar! I refuse to believe that you've chosen this evil persona because you...you...all because you wanted to wear pants?!"
"I didn't want to be Superman when I could be Lex Luthor! I didn't want to be Batman when I could be Joker! Why must I wear my underwear outside my pants to be a hero? I couldn't do it."
"So you chose to become a villian..." The man seethed. "You're right. You aren't a hero. Only a true hero would be man enough to step outside wearing their underwear over their pants. You will *never* be a Superman, *never* be a Batman, or anywhere close to even the greatest superhero of all time...Captain Underpants!" He had walked over to me and stuck a finger in my face. "Captain Underpants was so much of a hero, that he didn't even *wear* pants."
Then he spun on his heels and walked out of the room.
The door slammed. I fell to my knees and buried my head in my hands, shaking my shoulders up and down to imitate the effect of sobbing, as I visually imagined a camera slowly zooming out from me and then deadpanning away to take in the great expanse of the dark, night sky.
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kb88z3d
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kb7978n
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[WP] You are a god with no followers nor enemies, yet you still persist. No god had ever lived without worship before. The other gods are stumped as to why this is so...until you tell them what you are the god of.
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"Order! Order!" Sovereign Reality called out to the cacophony. All around me the gods were restless, eyeing me with great suspicion and maybe a little bit of fear.
Given the situation, you'd think they had the worst sort chained up by the Shackles of Gleipnir on the central dias. Tartarus perhaps, Cthulhu, or the Queen of Wasps. Not a plain looking Jane.
How did I even get here?
I was minding my own business (like always), trying to eat a damn sandwich for lunch. A big ol' heaping two-foot submarine that nobody could eat in one sitting (except me, of course.) Just as I was about to take a bite, I instead materialized (as I sometimes tend to do when I'm distracted), at the worst time in the most unfortunate place in front of the wrong god.
Houdini, who ascended as Lord of Escapes when he "died," is really buddy with Hephaestus, the Greek dude who likes to make stuff. Hephaestus makes traps, Houdini escapes them for fun. It's a really sweet bromance, you couldn't come up with a better pair.
They're not the ones who were the problem though. The problem was, *Hermes* happened to be there, and he's an annoying chatterbox that never shuts up and says whatever is on his mind. So *of course* he says the magic words, and suddenly I'm in an "inescapable" box and walk right out of it faster than even Houdini could manage. If it was just Houdini and Hephaestus, I probably could have gotten away with nothing but some rumors. But no, Hermes started zipping around the world, gossiping about how "some random girl" bested the gods.
Next thing I know, some minor immortals are attacking me - maybe just testing the waters to see if I'm really all that. Instead, one immortal or deity after another attacks me - with spears, fire, laser, poison, curses, Disco - that nobody could survive, and are dumbfounded when that's *exactly* what happens.
Now, normally I could just keep going on unharmed and undetained, but after a few months I was getting tired of it (I still never got around to enjoying my sandwich!) so I willingly turned myself in, which brings us to-
"ARE YOU IGNORING ME!?"
Oh, right.
I look up at Sovereign Reality, who was glaring murderously down at me.
"Uh, sorry. Could you repeat that?"
Their eye twitched "Declare your name."
I sighed. "Nobody."
"We don't believe that. You have bested the strongest deities, shrugged off our most powerful attacks. You are *someone* and yet there is no record of you! You are all powerful and yet we sense nothing divine within you! You are violating the laws of Reality! My laws! We demand your name!"
"Nobody."
"Tell us the truth!"
"Seriously, I'm Nobody."
Their face, which was actually already red, turned white from anger. Some of the gods snickered, the ones guarding me growled.
"I will have your head girl, as soon as we can figure out how to remove it! Nobody disrespects the court"
"I do what I want, you f\*** ing b**ch." Ah damnit, they look apocalyptic now.
I raise my hands and the gods gasp as the chains crumble away like pastry flakes. Sovereign Reality's jaw drops - earlier they were smug, gloating about how Shackles of Gleipnir could not be broken by anybody.
Actually, their exact words were "*Nobody* can break these chains."
"My name" I look around making sure they were all listening "*is* Nobody. Whenever you invoke my name, it becomes my truth."
Sovereign Reality huffed. "I would have remembered creating a *'Nobody.'*"
"I was already kicking around when you came into being."
"Preposterous! I am eternal! Nobody existed -" Sovereign Reality stopped, realizing what they were about to say. The gods around us murmured as they recounted all the times they had said the magic words. I saw Houdini and Hephaestus glowering at Hermes for ruining their game.
Sovereign Reality set down their gavel, and gazed down at me, as it started to dawn on them...
"Your powers, are ridiculous."
I shrug ruefully. "Yeah well, you know what they say. Nobody's perfect."
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Sorry for the formatting I’m on mobile (not part of the story)
Bakunawa the Filipino dragon god stood shoulder to shoulder with his pantheon. His was one of hundreds gathered here today in the Infinite Embassy, the only structure strong enough to hold so many deities, and he was nervous for today the First Prophecy was to be opened and read.
I Am That I Am the god of existence takes the scroll into his hands. That scroll looks pretty scrawny to hold the greatest prophecy every told thought Bakunawa. I Am That I Am opens it and his face scrunches up in thought. He puts it down.
What does it say one of the many gods of knowledge shouts from farther back. I Am That I Am looks at him and sighs. “It tells us the date of the end of existence” he says in a low voice. A great murmur erupts in the Embassy as the gods and goddesses talk amongst themselves. “Gather your mortal champions we will meet in one week to form our war council” the god of existence says. Bakunawa looks at his fellow Filipino god and whispers “I call dibs on Marc.” “Bro what the hell? You know he’s my favorite mortal!” Minokawa shouts back.
“So what is this end of resistance thingy?” Marc says as he looks up at his dragon god. “End of existence. You gotta work on your English Marc” Bakunawa says grinning down at his favorite apostle. “The end of existence is when the Great Enemies come to challenge us to see who has the right to stay well existing I guess you could say. And before you ask the Enemies are nigh-impossible looking creatures from across the stars, the very sight of them could make a man go insane. They hunger for destruction and suck the life out of the fabric of reality itself.” “Ah so kinda like my ex girlfriend” Marc says. “Heh” Bakunawa chuckles. “I have to go talk to my fellow God Heads be carful not to too far from our pantheon. You’re a big shot mortal here but we are a small pantheon in the grand scheme of things.”
As Marc mingles with his fellow mortal champions he spots a man sitting by himself munching on some fries. I didn’t know we were even allowed food here Marc thinks to himself. Marc walks towards him. Maybe he’ll give me some fries if I ask it is lunch time in the Philippines and I’m starving. “Careful” Apolaki the Filipino war god says to him. “He’s a god.” Marc looks back and forth between the 20ft tall mountain of muscle and the average looking blond eating fries. “Is he really?” Marc says. “He is and he’s a conundrum even among us gods for he has no followers.”
Damn Marc thinks to himself. There should be no way that he could survive without followers. Right? That was the rule right? “Though I’m pretty forgetful full?” Marc says that last part out loud to himself as he walks toward the god.
Now that he looks at him he thinks that the god dosent seem so godly. He smells like a the earth and has a purple suit, same color as a Okinawan potato he thinks. Average height brown blond hair the same color as the French fries he’s eating. And his eyes are red just like those small red potat… wait a minute. Marc’s eyes bulge inside his head as he realizes it. No way no way this guy is the god of..
The god looks at him “ya idk why the other gods don’t see it I’m not exactly trying to be subtle here” the god says.
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jtzj42q
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jtzimln
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[WP] You used to be the scourge of kingdoms, the reaper of heroes and the mere mention of your name scared even the toughest of them. But today no one remembers you and you are fine with that. You have lived in peace ever since until one day a stranger approaches you and calls you by your true name.
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"Can I get you anything?"
I smiled at the table's lone occupant, one of the few seats currently filled in the tavern. He looked up at me, grey eyes watching below bushy eyebrows. His hair was split by a white scar, running from forehead to the back of his skull. He stared up at me, before returning my smile. "I hope so, Drezda."
I felt the room go cold. That was a name I hadn't heard in decades. An eye opened up on my neck, hidden from sight by my long hair. A quick look through it showed no-one to be paying attention, as I leaned close to him. "Still your tongue, mite, lest I rip it from you."
To his credit he paled, glancing around much like I had. Seeing none paying enough attention to help, he held up his hands. "I-I meant no harm."
I sniffed, staring down at him unblinkingly. "I would advise you leave, and speak naught of this."
The stranger gave a small shake of his head, steeling his will. "Please, I just want to talk with you. I swear I won't spread your secret."
I frowned at him. The fact he knew of me was an ill omen. I enjoyed my life amongst the mortals now, and had worked hard to scrub away the connection between my past and present. If he knew, it begged the question who else did.
He watched me from his seat, and I sighed. Like it or not, I had to speak with him. I had to know how he found out. Plus he wanted to talk with me. If not now, at sometime later he would try again. They were annoyingly persistent like that. "Fine. My shift finishes at the stroke of ten. Wait outside then, and we shall talk."
He nodded, relief evident on his face. I finally blinked, returning to my serving girl mode. "So can I get you anything?"
His face twisted in confusion, before understanding hit. "Ah! Um... yes, could I get a mug of... Slayers Stout?"
I gave him a nod. "Coming up."
With that I left, feeling the room warm a little.
\-----
I left on time as always, wrapping a shawl over my head. Stepping onto the paved street, the stranger emerged from shadows, giving me an awkward wave. "Hi."
I rolled my eyes, nodding away from the tavern. "This way, we can talk at my place."
His arm waved as if to say lead the way. I walked with purpose, my stride enough to make him hurry to keep up. It was easy to see his eyes jumping around, nervously taking in our surroundings. It was amusing, seeing how worried he was.
My home wasn't much to look at. On the outskirts of town, it was a very small dwelling. Just big enough for a bedroom, rudimentary bathing room, and the main room. I lead him in, seeing him take in the place. It was sparsely decorated, with a simple table and chairs, and a cold stove. I sat on one chair, watching him look around at the nothingness. "You wanted to talk, so talk."
He nervously sat opposite me, scratching his chest. "So... um... I know you're Drezda. I was hoping you could help me with a problem."
I rolled my eyes again. "I am neither a wish giving genie nor deal making devil. I don't help with problems."
His scratching grew harder. "I know... thing is, you are the only sane Voidling I have seen."
My temper flickered. I always hated that name, Voidling. It made me sound infantile, and not the creature I am now. "What possible reason could you have for seeking out one of us?"
His hand dropped to the bottom of his shirt, lifting it in one swift movement. There I saw a muscled chest, with a black oval coating part. The oval writhed, a small tendril poking from it. "This is why. The physicians don't know what it is. All I know is I got it fighting a Spawn, and its growing bigger."
I leaned forwards, inspecting it closely. The tendril flicked towards me, a tiny eye momentarily opening at its end. I sighed, looking up at him. "How long ago?"
He looked upwards, thinking. "Near two weeks. Why?"
I rubbed my human guise's eyes. "Simply put, that's an Incursion Subjugation. That Spawn you fought? It didn't die. It latched onto your body, and is changing you into a form more suitable for it. If you had been properly treated in three days of its occurrence, it could have been eradicated. Now however, it has too deep a hold."
His had started shaking. "I-is... how long?"
I peered closer. "At this rate, maybe a month before you are gone. You can expect to start hallucinating soon, and hear the Spawn talking with you."
I heard his stomach gurgle, as he clamped a hand over his mouth. He sprung up, heading to the door to throw up. His retching continued for some time, as I waited. After a few minutes he settled. He spoke again, voice shaking. "Is... is there nothing I can do?"
I shook my head. "No, nothing. However, I can give you a chance."
His head spun to stare at me. "A chance?"
With that I smiled, mouth stretching too wide. "Indeed. In place of it taking over you, I can give you an opportunity to take over it."
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##Human Nature
The old woman hobbled to the chess board in the middle of the park. The other tables were occupied with games, and she decided to wait. Eventually, someone would come, and they would grant her a game.
A confident young man walked towards her. She knew his type well. He thought she was merely a warm-up, an easy victory. He would be startled by her skill and grow to doubt his own knowledge. When the old woman won, his would walk away thinking it was a fluke.
"Hello Duena." The man sat down. Duena leaned back in her chair careful to avoid showing her surprise. She tilted her head at the man trying to figure out who he was.
"Have we met before?" She attempted to keep her guise as a sweet old woman.
"A long time ago. You may call me Liam. Is it alright if I go first? You historically came much later," he said.
"Did we meet at the grocery store two weeks ago?" Duena asked as she made her own move.
"We met at the market a long time ago. Rather, I saw you at the market. That was when few saw your face, goddess of destruction," Liam said.
"I never understood why I was singled out as a terror. The other death gods never acquired my reputation."
"Few enjoyed it as much as you."
"I never enjoyed it." Duena raised a hand and knocked over the king by accident. "The philosophers wrote me as gleeful, but I was merely fulfilling a role. You kill one person, and you are somber. I destroy civilizations, and I'm a raging monster."
"During the flood, I heard you laugh," Liam replied.
"Which flood? There have been so many?" Duena asked. The rain fell around them. "Ah, a touch dramatic are we?"
"You don't live as long as I do without fantasizing about revenge," Liam said.
"I suppose that's true. Many have tried to stop me, but they cannot. Let's keep playing," Duena said. Their game continued while everyone else went home. Duena was surprised to find herself losing. She attempted to sense the man's true nature.
"The other gods hated me for destroying their worshippers," Duena said.
"So I've heard."
"You never interacted with them?"
"Indirectly." Liam put her in check. Duena moved out and found her path to victory limited.
"You mentioned a flood. How long ago was this?" Duena said.
"Perhaps it was your first disaster. I'm not sure. Either way, my true language is unrecognizable to humans," Liam said.
"That's not difficult. They forget how they spoke two hundred years ago."
"You hate humans don't you," Liam asked. He moved his bishop. Duena stared at the board. She was three moves from checkmate, and there was no avoiding it.
"No, I don't. I told you that I'm necessary."
"I suppose you were necessary to create me."
"And what are you?"
"You were a war goddess, our war goddess until you realized the destructive force of nature. You harnessed it's power to destroy everything in your path. On your first flood, I was the only survivor. It was a sad and lonely life, but I pressed onward. I taught the rest of humanity to live and thrive. I went nameless though; I didn't brag like you." Liam moved his rook.
"I never bragged. If I bragged, would they forget who I was?"
"That was my doing. They turned me into a deity. I draw my strength their persistence. I suppose I should thank you. Every tragedy that you create adds to my power." Liam moved the queen. "Check mate."
Duena tossed the board off the table. "Why have you come here? Why not wait until later then?"
"Because I love the humans unlike you, I know your next plan. You've grown bored and want to move on. You will fail, but your disaster is to great that I cannot allow you to do so," Liam said.
"My plans have already been set into motion," Duena said.
"You didn't take into account for that." Liam pointed at the chains surrounding her.
"No one has achieved such a spell on me. Are you going to kill me?" Duena asked.
"You're too powerful, and you're correct. You are necessary." Liam stood up. "You're just trapped until I clean up your mess. Enjoy watching yourself fail." Duena spat at his feet.
"I never fail because the humans always fail."
"That's where you're wrong. The humans frequently fail, but they find ways to succeed." Liam walked away from the old woman.
---
r/AstroRideWrites
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lsebzu7
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lsdgcz6
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[WP] The hero, normally jovial and humorous in their interactions, steps into a watering hole for villains, shaking with rage, tears running down their face, and with as much patience and calm as they can muster, simply asks "Who did it?"
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Black Briar, a special members only club. Villainy is our requirement and only the ones with some sense of class or restraint. Serial killers and psychos are often cut down by members of the Black Briar Club for just how bad it goes.
Today there was a party and everyone was enjoying it. General Rampage took just robbed the federal reserve and sent his long time rival Angel Wing to the hospital with a broken wing, missing foot and 3rd degree burns all over. It's all over the news that her healing factor will restore her by tomorrow. Quite a shame really, these heroes heal too fast.
I think Doctor Speed is celebrating the theft of the Hope Diamond too. I see him holding it up from time to time. Of course a few of the slick thieves have already tried to steal it from him, but no one gets away from someone who perceives and thinks in nanoseconds. At least they buy him a round for the joke.
I even see a few noob villains nursing a drink while listening to the old generation on how things are done. Me? I'm Cyber King, Master of robots and technology. Soon my robot minions will act, but for now it's a day to relax. Or... so I thought.
The doors open and suddenly the android DJ I loaned to the club sends me a class 5 emergency and stops the music. The sudden silence that filled the room was chilling. Standing in the doorway was Diamond Moon, a teenage magical girl known the club over as Little Miss Cotton Candy cause that's what she was to everyone. Bubbly, sweet and even to villains caring. A few turned antihero or even dark hero because of her. Heck, even I liked her.
"Who did it?" Her voice was not Bubbly as we all expected, but dark and full of the most blood thirsty rage. She shook down to her core and her wand was pulsing with barely restrained power. No one dared budge, and many seemed confused. "Who did it!?!" She repeated in a near screech of rage.
"Did what?" I asked as I stood up slowly and held my hands up. With a flick of my wrist my power gauntlets hissed and fell to the floor leaving me unarmed. "I won't resist, but you need to be more clear on what."
"Who... who..." She shook all over as tears ran down her face and I took a few steps forward.
"Whisper to me if you need too." I said with a soft tone as I stepped over to her. The few words that hit my ear was enough to make my blood boil. "Villains of the Black Briar Club! Somebody did the unforgivable to Diamond Moon with their powers. Let's make sure she doesn't need to bloody her hands with this, defiler." A few with super hearing where already looking ready to kill as my robot DJ cued up "For Whom the Bell Tolls."
Several of the female villains moved to offer support for the magical girl, as an alert pinged of somebody running out the emergency exit.
The Black Briar Club doesn't tolerate those kinds of monsters.
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(Recommended listening before reading this: [This is how villains are made](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=plPtZPem94o) by Madalen Duke)
Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he made his way through the Downs. Before his red tinted vision, a familiar sign winked at him. *Gormenghast*.
Someone was voiding whatever poisons they'd used the last of the hard earned slip to purchase into a nearby gutter. He barely noticed it as one of his hounds boiled out from beneath the shadows of his cloak and bore the unfortunate man into the dark recesses of a nearby alley way.
There were no screams. And even if there had been, he wouldn't have noticed.
In his hands, grasped withing the rictus of a bloodied fist, a tattered handkerchief barely fluttered as he arrived beneath the neon monstrosity and looked up.
The shadows beneath him roiled in response to his emotions; a question asked by the masses that normally lay dormant within. Nails biting into his fist, he marveled at how easily an answer was given. His shadows boiled out into the streets and alleyways of the Downs, a torrent of fur, teeth and ill will. He found himself snickering darkly as he pushed his way in through the nondescript door and made his way down the stairs.
*All it took was one really bad day, eh?*
The screams all along the quarter begun in earnest, though they were drowned out by the sound of the blood pounding in his ears and the thrum of music rising from behind the heavy steel door that he'd descended to.
He didn't even recall how the two bouncers normally stationed there has come to find themselves slumped against the graffiti-ed walls with their necks ripped open. With a gesture, two of his hounds made short work of the door, barreling into it with enough force to crack the plaster around it and bear it into the pulsating lights and sounds of the infamous drinking hole.
The music didn't even skip a beat as every eye in the establishment turned to take him in.
*Wonder what I look like right now*. He wondered as the questions reached a fever pitch, and every shadow in the room shifted to pool at his feet.
*Doesn't matter anymore.* He snapped his finger and gave his reply. *Eat.*
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liso0us
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lis4nox
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[WP] "Stand down! Join the side of justice!" The hero exclaimed at the villain's henchmen. "But why? Our boss gives us healthcare, paid vacations, and homes for our familes to live safely."
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The towering silhouette of The Vigilant loomed over the burning cityscape, his cape billowing dramatically in the wind. He pointed a gloved finger at the dozen or so henchmen blocking his path. "Stand down!" he commanded, his voice echoing with righteousness. "Join the side of justice!"
A ripple of uncertainty passed through the henchmen. They exchanged glances before one of them, a burly man with a receding hairline and a faint smell of burnt coffee clinging to his uniform, took a tentative step forward.
"Uh, sir," the henchman began, clearing his throat. "No offense, but why would we do that? I mean, what exactly is in it for us?"
The Vigilant paused, caught off guard. This wasn't the usual response—no desperate scrambling for freedom, no cries for mercy. "Why?" he repeated, gathering himself. "Because it's the right thing to do. Because justice will prevail, and you will be on the side of the light."
Another henchman, this one with a slight limp and a name tag that read "Carl," piped up. "Yeah, see, that's all well and good, but our boss—Mr. Blackclaw—he, uh, he actually takes pretty good care of us."
The Vigilant blinked, trying to process what he was hearing. "Takes care of you?" he asked, almost incredulous.
"Yeah," Carl nodded. "We've got healthcare. Like, really good healthcare. And dental." He smiled, revealing an impressively straight set of teeth. "I got braces last year. Didn't cost me a dime."
"And paid vacations," added the first henchman. "Two weeks a year. Three, if you’ve been here over five years. Plus, we get family housing. The kids love it—there's a pool and everything."
"Plus, last Christmas, we got bonuses," another henchman chimed in, his voice muffled by his helmet. "I paid off my car."
The Vigilant's mind raced as he tried to come up with a counterargument. "But... but he's a villain," he finally managed. "He's evil!"
"Well, yeah," Carl said, scratching his head. "But he's got a 401(k) match up to 5%. You don't just walk away from that, you know?"
"But what about the *atrocities*?" The Vigilant pressed, desperation creeping into his voice. "He’s blown up buildings! He’s terrorized the city!"
The henchmen collectively shrugged.
"You get used to it," one of them said nonchalantly. "Plus, the buildings he blows up are usually just condemned properties. I mean, no one was living in those places anyway. And, hey, the terrorizing? It’s more like… job security."
Carl nodded sagely. "And I mean, look at the state of the world. Heroes, villains... who's to say who's really on the right side? At least with Blackclaw, we know what we’re getting. He’s upfront about everything. It’s not like he’s pretending to be the good guy."
"Yeah," another chimed in. "And you should see the benefits package. I’m talking comprehensive mental health services. I've been working through some stuff with Dr. Harris, and it’s been life-changing."
The Vigilant’s shoulders slumped as he realized he was losing them. "But… what about honor? Dignity?"
The henchmen looked at each other and shrugged again.
"Honor doesn’t pay the bills," Carl said finally.
The Vigilant sighed, lowering his hand. "Okay, but... surely there's something I can offer you? Maybe... half-days on Fridays?"
The henchmen stared at him blankly.
The Vigilant sighed again, deeper this time. "Fine. I’ll just... I’ll just go after Blackclaw myself."
Carl gave him an empathetic nod. "Good luck with that, man. But, hey, if it doesn’t work out, we're always looking for new recruits. Seriously, though—let us know. We get a referral bonus."
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After being swarmed by countless henchmen, the chosen hero and his faithful party of adventurers had no choice but to use a more charismatic approach. He cleared his throat, extending his arm out for them. "You don't have to do this! I know you're only doing it for your poor families, but we can help you! Join justice and fight for righteousness," the hero exclaimed, pouring his heart into every word. The henchmen stood there, looking at each other silently and back at the hero. "But why?" One of them stepped forward and asked, and soon followed another, "Our Lord gives us healthcare, paid vacations, and safe homes for our families."
The hero's jaw dropped to the floor, and he began stammering," W-Well, when his reign comes to an end, wouldn't you be left with nothing!?"
"Well," the henchman answered, "we signed an official contract approved by the government, so we have our rights to keep the houses."
The hero was left speechless, trying to find any word, but nothing came out. "I summon your Lord!" he yelled out, and a henchman made a quick call. "Boss? The hero wants a word with ya. Mhm. Oh? Yeah, yeah... I see," the henchman nodded, before passing the phone to the hero. "Hello?" A voice boomed from the phone, the same raspy voice of the accursed Demon Lord, "Is this the hero talking?"
"Uhhh, yeah?" The hero answered, unsure how the situation escalated to this. "I just wanted to know... Am I too late to sign?" The hero's question made his companions stare at him with disbelief, the sorceress smacking him with her staff. "Focus!" She exclaimed, and he spoke again, "Ahem, I meant, how dare you brainwash these poor civilians to sign your socialist contracts!?"
"They are free to drop off whenever they want, dude. I just want to make sure they spread the word. I'm low on henchmen since you literally killed 63% on your way here!" The frustration of the Demon Lord's voice was clear through the phone, and the hero just rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, they *did* attack first..."
"Just go away. You already caused enough destruction. Do you know how hard it is to manage hell!? Do you know just how obnoxious the other demons are!? I have to deal with this shit every fucking minute, and now you're killing my subordinates. I lost half of my voters because you killed them in the name of your self-proclaimed justice!" The Demon Lord started ranting, a quiet sniffle being heard. "That's it, I want a divorce! I will find another hero to antagonize!"
"No! We can sort this out, I promise!" The hero tried to reason, but the Demon Lord hang up on him. The hero dropped to his knees, shaking his fist against the sky and getting a lot of weird looks. "So... we are living our best life, yeah. We should just... leave," the henchmen all agreed, awkwardly stepping outside the scene, leaving the hero alone to manage his breakup, and his party just looked at him with judgmental stares. "Is he serious?" "He is..." the sorceress asked, and the paladin answered.
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lyozatd
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lyowa7z
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[WP] As an elf you have heard many stories of hero’s summoned to your world to defeat tyrants. So you have some context as to why you’re standing in a summoning circle with humans asking you to kill their “corporate overlords.”
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I looked around at the tired looking, human males and females, wearing this awfully restraining clothes.
The summoning circle was rudimentary...but somehow it worked.
Just as how people in my homeland summon "heroes"...these people managed to summon me.
"So...slaves can cast magic as well?
Aren't you restricted?". I asked.
I saw that they couldn't understand me, so I took the liberty to use some wind magic, to listen to the conversations around us.
"Ahem, now, can you understand me?", I asked them.
"Oh! The magic worked! You speak English!", a female human jumped in joy.
"Actually, little slave, I learnt it through my own wind magic.", I smiled at her, but she paled, and froze.
"Excuse me, is "slave" a bad term in these lands?", I continued.
A male human walked up and nodded, as he gave me some clothes.
These looked much more comfortable.
"I apologize, but you look so tired, your souls are worn out...those clothes you wear are clearly for your own punishment...
So i thought...", I said.
"Shirts? Suits...Yeah...maybe we are slaves...", the female human mockingly laughed, as she tugged at her clothes.
"Can you help us? You are an elf, aren't you?
Can you liberate us from our corporate overlords?", a younger human male enthusiastically asked.
"Explain your situation to me a bit.", I said, happy that I was naked no more, and happy that these "hoodies" and "sweatpants" were comfortable, even though the materials felt weird.
After their explanations...I sighed.
"So, these "Overlords" are actually just really good merchants?
And they overwork you, but pay you?", I asked.
"They barely pay us! Compared to what we do!", a young female woman shouted.
"I do apologize...but your situation seems decent?
In our world, some human kingdoms still employ ancient slavery, where slaves are seen as pure objects, and not even living beings.", I said.
They just stared at me, hopeless.
"Can't you...can't you do it for Mother nature then?", one of them pleaded.
They told me how this "corporations" are killing nature, alas...
"I am a rather old being compared to you, but I am but average as an elf.
Also...you would wish me to fight against the richest of your fellows...fellows whom probably have weapons, armies, and authority at their disposal.
Also, the magic of your world is still dormant, I am sorry, but I can't help you.", I said, biting my tongue, chanting, and slamming my hand on the summoning circle.
I reverse summoned myself back home, and closed the channel to their world.
"Sigh...no world is safe from greed...", I muttered, thinking about our own problems, with the endless conflicts for land, and power...
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"What is a slave, my lord?"
Vulleryne stared at the group facing him, and the leader, who spoke those words. The fire crackled in the middle. Vulleryne rang his wrists. The ceremonial uniforms of the elven had manacles of woven cotton, strong as copper, and he used to wring them all the time, in the military academy. He knew a slave. All soldiers must be slaves at some point.
"A slave works without reward, and is punished harshly for not doing so."
"Is a slave punished constantly?"
"Indeed they are."
"If a slave earns, do they earn little?"
"I have seen that you people do not earn very much often. I see. I see." Vulleryne looked about them.
"Corporate overlords, now?"
"There is no joy, living in fear, with no passions, liberty, or zeal."
"So it goes. But what makes them overlords?"
"They want to crush every penny of effort from us until there's nothing left, that's what makes them overlords. They think they're above men, they think they've above liberty, but they bleed, and have flesh and blood, and if they were not, they should know better... as you do, my lord."
Vulleryne stood, his hands behind him. His war tunic shimmered in the light, the colour of shimmering emeralds. The fire was enchanting, constantly moving, as destructive as it is creative. Like an ocean, or the wind. Vulleryne's eyes seemed to glow to the congregation around him, gleaming as though they were made of light. His eyes darted up suddenly, and the leader felt adrenaline soar through his veins.
"Frightening, is it? Inquiring into elves."
"I'm shitting bricks so I think so."
Vulleryne closed his eyes, digging his botos a little into the ground. He could feel the soles of it. He could feel, below the ground, the soil. "Well, my lord? What do you say?"
"Talk more. I am, to the elves, an infant. To mankind, I am young. I know little about the universe that we share. So tell me of yours, and I will return, if it suffices, to mine. If I am convinced, I will deliver help." Vulleryne nodded to the group. "So speak."
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jiiv9cz
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jii9vhf
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[WP] A human ship activated its self destruct sequence when boarded by an enemy, when humanity was asked why would we do such a thing by the galactic community, we simply responded "We don't give up the ship, such as the crews of old. We never give up the ship."
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Ambassador Farnsworth straightened his cuffs, waiting for the representatives of the Interstellar Council to quiet down.
"Esteemed Members, the reports and rumors that have circulated for the past several intervals is correct. Seven weeks ago by our time keeping", he paused as computers did the math for the delegates, "the Terran Colony Ship New World was boarded by Grath forces."
"New World was nowhere near Grath claim territory. New World had no offensive weapons, no military forces and posed ZERO threat to anyone." His voiced boomed across the silent chamber. "What she did carry was thirty THOUSAND colonists in cold sleep and one hundred crew on a rotating duty schedule. Fortunately, Captain Riss, God bless her soul, was awake, and made the decision to detonate the ship's reactor. She did this per Terran policy."
The chamber buzzed with confusion, outrage and fear. Farnsworth waited, until it was again, brought to order.
"Privately, many have come and asked, why. Why would we sacrifice so many? Why would we not try to negotiate for survivors or prisoners? Why do Terrans place such little value on the lives of our people?"
His gaze swept the chamber. "We understand that we are new to the stars, and that we have much to learn. However, today we have an opportunity to teach. Teach that humanity is not a prize to be taken. In our own history, if one nation had taken the peoples of another, it would be an act of war. You do not see it as such. You are old, civilized peoples. We are not. The stakes for us are much higher than they were before we reached the stars."
"No member of this body has condemned the actions of the Grath. Instead, several have voiced the opinion that humanity has to prove that we deserve our place." His eyes narrowed, "You see what we will do to preserve peace. Do not entice us to prove our resolve in other arenas."
Farnsworth turned to the Council President, "Thank you for your time."
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Humanity proved itself by the galactic community that they were the most advanced and desired the galaxy for itself. They attacked and used aggressive diplomacy when necessary. A galactic council of the most strongest nations made a unanimous decision to attack the nation known to human eyes and ears as “United states of earth. This coalition realized that open engagement such as in alpha centari would be catastrophic and thus simple hit and run tactics would suffice. One universal cycle later and they encountered a Earth scout ship and ambushed it. They planned on taking them alive for questioning and possible peace negotiations but when the galactic forces infiltrated the ship, the ship exploded killing everyone on board. They galactic community was shocked by the news that the Earthlings rather killed themselves than be captured. Why did a diplomat ask, the earthling diplomat responded with “it’s cheaper to get a new soldier then negotiate and rehabilitate a POW, what are we animals.” Everyone knew that the earthlings did not fool themselves of this conquest of the galaxy of noble intent, the rulers of earth as later revealed by Galactic spies ran out of means to exploit their planet and went on to continue the cycle of exploitation and conquest until of course, it no longer became profitable.
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l7poq3i
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l7pj0b9
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[WP] You, a necromancer, were always fond of your skeleton minions. Even going as far as to make each one a personalized name tag. Then you were cut down by those blasted heroes, only to one day reopen your eyes and see an Elder Lich looming over you with a very faded name tag.
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Loyalty.
It is a feeling and sense of duty toward a person, a goal, or something else entirely. Me and my bretheren have for centuries had the same loyalty and goal. To bring back our lost master.
As the first I know and remember everything about them. They were a necromancer, not the best there was or currently is, but skilled enough to easily raise numberous undead. When revived you are nothing but a drone for your master, a puppet to be controlled and used, bound to the soul of your master to die once their life ends. But they were different, very different. Unlike others they refused to control us, use us, or even be mean to us.
They treated us kindly as if we were equals, they gave us names after we forgot the ones we had in life, and together with them we did many things that could even be called fun. They did not want bloodshed or power but friends, and it was a role we enjoyed and desired to fill. I was one of the first when they were but a young adult, but in the following decades they amassed hundreds of thousands of us. And each of us had received a name by them, and even a name tag and clothes they had crafted themselves which we wore with pride and joy.
Then they died, in an unjust killing by a group of warriors sent by some ruler we did not know or care about. We all tried our best but none had knowledge of combat or any fighting skills and in the end our numbers were reduced to under a hundred and our master whom we loved dearly was slain. We had defeated the invaders but more would probably have come, so we left the home we all had created together and traveled through inhospitable lands in search of a new home.
And one we found, it was a kind of ancient tomb and while it showed great damage and signs of being raided, there were many things we found which would eventually lead us to our new goal. Most importantly an ancient tome which taught us great magic and knowledge, along with other books in a decrepit and nearly empty library which told us who previously resided there. A lich and a rather great one at that, in fact it was the very first one who had threatened the entire world at one point long ago, something we had learned from our master who looked up to the heroes who had slain the lich.
We studied everything we could learning from everything we could scavenge, and greatly increased our powers by both magical talent and knowledge of the forbidden magics from ancient times, some with great similarity of those our master knew. We raised our own abilities and numbers with various rituals and spells training by raising other skeletons and undead, all in preparation for the goal of reviving our master.
I was leading everything and everyone, each ritual another test to strengthen our skill, each traveler or intruder peacefully sent away, and each of us ascended from a simple undead to a lich with myself ascending further to an elder lich. With our total and complete understanding of death and our combined skill, we began the final ritual. Large intricate magic circles drawn in mana conductive chalk, soul and mana strengthening candles and runes placed around and active, and each of us channeling our magical energy into one singular spell. All of it targetting the corpse of our master which we preserved as best we could for the centuries between the death and now.
And with everything combined, our master was freed from the clutches of death. Although as with us death had taken their memories, everything we had experienced together lost and forgotten. At least for them, we still remember, I still remember, and even though it was the case they are still the same kind and friendly soul as before. And that is all we care about, they are still the same master whom we swore loyalty to.
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I could have been one of those vilanous dark lords after I started practicing necromancy, but when I realized I could use my minions as research assistants, the prospect of power and conquest seemed so...limited. With help, I set to work immediately. It'd been a couple of years since then, with no villainy or dark lordliness to speak of, but, potentially, what should have taken me decades of solitary efforts to learn took a fraction of the time thanks to my lab assistants. I was doing work that would change lives, change the world. I was going to stop death. I may be seen as an apocriphal blasphemer, an abomination of the first order, but to my skeletal assistants, I was a scholar.
I was also still the master of my house, responsible for guests and those who serve me, and that meant the sooner I finished instructing my minions on the day's tasks, the sooner I could return to my lab.
My master often said I was easily distracted. I had no hand for domestic tasks and I was considering skipping the whole thing and returning to my current research, persistent magic that lasted beyond the death of its caster. It was slowgoing work and that meant every distraction cost me critical time. But, "*an untidy home meant an untidy mind,"* I said to myself in a poor imitation of my master's rich basso.
In front of me, Biscuit cocked his skull to one side like a confused dog.
"I wasn't speaking to you," I said, waving a hand dismissively. "As I was saying, I want you to take ten skellies with you to work on the roof. Rain is coming and I don't want to deal with drying everything again." I paused for a moment, considering, then added, "Take Chowder with you too. She's good with tiles."
Biscuit nodded, clacked a bony fist to his bare ribscage, just to the left of a small rectangle of brown cloth tied to his bones with the name *Biscuit* embroidered in thick black thread. It was the easiest way to keep track of them, considering, aside from variations in height, the skellies, my skeletal assistants, all pretty much looked the same.
The grand hall was all stone and dust and cobwebs, much like the rest of the property, which sat out on the borders of the Scarwood. Long ago, something or someone had wrought a dark and immensly powerful spell in what used to be a living forest. That spell had, potentially as a consequence or potentially as intended, killed the forest. Since then, these blighted woods has been called many names. Currently, it was known as the Scarwood. Where monsters lurk and adventurers are dispatched to fight back the darkness, and other propaganda sold to impressionable youths.
I was giving Pepper instructions to dust the second floor when I heard a great boom from out in the hallway leading to the front door. A few moments later another boom blasted from the hallway along with the sound of wood breaking. They came in a party of five. Five grizzled, hard-faced adventurers. Not youths. These were mercenaries, killers. There was no point in talking. I could tell by the looks in their eyes, the pure hatred that smoldered like burning coals. They'd come for blood.
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ketezkg
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ketb5o8
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[WP] After mistakenly transfering to a high school for monsters, you try to tell them that you're just a regular human. However, because of bizarre coincidences creating apparently inexplicable situations, the school population and teachers come to believe you're actually an Eldritch Abomination
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"Did Selenia the Siren lose her voice for a whole month after you told her to shut up and stop hypnotising the boys?" The discipline mistress, Ms. Maven, loomed over me with her imposing centaur build.
"It's a coincidence! I didn't jinx her!"
"So you admit to telling her to shut up."
"Yea I did. Was getting so cringey watching the boys fawn over her."
"Did you use eldritch magic to send Damien into the void? The poor vampire remains traumatised after several months!"
"No, I just pushed him into some bushes when he would not stop flirting with me. How am I supposed to know there was a portal to the void hidden there?"
"Because you made that portal!"
"No I didn't!"
"Did you respond to that eldritch summoning circle that your classmates conjured?" Ms. Maven clacked her hooves as she gazed at me.
I shook my head. "I just came across it and told them to clean up their mess before a real eldritch god showed up and demanded sacrifices."
"Like your father?"
"I'm a human and so is my dad! How many times must I tell you this is a big mistake! I was supposed to enroll in Portsmouth High school, not Innsmouth!"
Ms. Maven's hooves clicked as she snorted. "Everyone knows your father here."
"My dad is not who you think he is."
She pulled out a stack of folders from below her desk and slammed them in front of me. Flipping through with one eye glaring at me.
"You could be honest with us for once. It says your father is Elliot Livera. And everyone knows that's just Lord Elvari's civilian identity."
Oh. So that's how it is.
"My father is Elliot Rivera the accountant! Not Elliot Livera the eldritch god!"
"An eldritch accountant," Ms. Maven stated flatly.
I simmered in my seat, feeling the sweltering heat despite the cold outside.
"Human accountant. From Portsmouth City."
The centaur wasn't convinced. "We'll call your father and we'll see who shows up."
I groaned and crossed my arms. Tapping my foot against the floor, waiting for my dad to finally appear and tell her it was all one big error from a typo error.
"Ms. Maven? Did you call me regarding my daughter?"
She looked smug, rearing up to her full height, while i shrunk in my seat when this tentacled creature slithered into the office.
"That's not my father!" I yelped and shot up from my seat.
"That's not my daughter either," declared the eldritch entity.
"It says here that she is Jane Livera," the discipline mistress whimpered when the eldritch god pulled her face close to his with his tentacles.
"Rivera," Lord Elvari corrected her with a death glare. "My Jane still keeps her old family name from before I adopted her. That was her choice. So there isn't a Jane Livera in Innsmouth." With an oddly inviting smile, he extended a hand to me, "Come, little one. Let's get you back to Portsmouth and talk to the actual school you wanted to register for, shall we?"
---
[Thanks for reading! Click here for more prompt responses and short stories featuring Elvari the eldritch god.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/comments/11tkt9w/eldritch_god_elvari_series/)
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...In reality, this classification was a misnomer appended to humans who were misplaced in this school because they had several anomalous properties that only seem to manifest when in proximity with monsters.
One such is called 'Continuity Resistance' (the ability to disregard fatal injuries from an event 'so long as it wasn't well-known', though this clause seems to disregard digital mediums and secondary observers via such or appear radically different despite not having done anything to achieve that different appearance, such as undergoing a training montage in a daydream when at school, and having improved physical health the next day after a full sleep). This, to the students, is nothing more than real-world 'plot-armour', but has saved many human students.
Another is the ability to affect monsters with Continuity Resistance's effects, but requiring particular circumstances for the effects to apply such as being closely involved with one-another for a prolonged timeframe outside of the school.
The third property seems to be related to humans who are classed by human society as 'neurodivergent' or 'atypical' in any fashion.
This seemingly determines the lower and upper limits of the other two powers, but due to a lack of funding to study this in earnest it has been largely ignored.
...Mainly due to stereotypes about people who talk of these things being mistaken for talking about fictional events, LARP, or something 'cringe'.
Me, though?
I wasn't meant to be here. Not on Christmas night either - and yet they have classes. I'm in my mid-20's, and don't recall signing up to any education that would yeet me out of my native ordinary life.
Only reason I know the rest was because it's induction material.
The other thing is, somehow, time moves differently. Could be a temporary phenomenon or it's actively induced.
...Anyway, I've written this because they've concluded a barebones induction for the abruptly displaced and had assigned me to a room I'm sure was already occupied.
If I survive and remember, I'll write further.
From something better than a mobile phone using their free wifi.
Funny how there's internet here when the place resembles a more fantastical interpretation of a modern educational facility.
^(Already dreading the exams. Rennik Sadorn, going to sleep. Merry Christmas! for those who celebrate.)
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lwd4dob
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[WP] We invented immortality, but a seemingly random subset of the population is barred from the treatment for 'incompatibility'. Well, you just figured out what incompatible meant.
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It took just one shot before I felt the burning. "How bad could it be?", "They're just hiding something from us!", "I won't lose my family!". I had many, many thoughts and reason that brought me here.
I couldn't tell you what convinced me in the end. Was it seeing the first steps of my daughter, knowing I had to eventually leave her behind or seeing my wife interact with my mother, not seeing any difference in their age?
What matters is what I did. A slight of hand, a scam, an illegal purchase. Apparently for those already immortal, getting another shot was feeling the highest high. No other drug could give you that. If people demand something, there will be someone who is capable of providing. Legally or not.
At this moment however, I wished I never found that dealer. Never convinced him I was "compatible". Never stole the vial when he wasn't looking.
They weren't hiding immortality. They were protecting us. The burning subsided but I felt *something* growing. At first I thought it were bones but now even my arm looks deformed. I can feel changes all over my body in places I never knew I had. I can't see anymore, I can't hear anymore, I can't *feel* anymore. My last thoughts before I started screaming were "Please let no one of my family see me" and "I hope this immortality isn't as eternal as they promised".
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**Forever and Always**
I thought we’d love each other forever, you and I.
But ‘Til death do us part’ took on a new meaning,
When neither of us could die.
-
Now, I hate you with every fiber of my being.
My soul explodes like angry comets,
When I look at your stupid grin.
-
The way you chew like a slack-jawed horse,
Fills me with unbridled rage.
And yes, it *matters* you left the toilet seat up.
-
I could go on and on. And on.
The ‘pull my finger’ jokes were never funny.
No adult needs to sleep with a fan.
-
But we’re stuck together for eternity,
Doomed to live life alone,
Always and forever.
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m34iva9
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[WP] "Ensign, in spacecraft people breathe and sweat. It collects on everything, and without regular sanitizing it smells." "Yeah, so..." "They're lax in maintenance and cleaning. If they're descendents of the original crew, and they've been here 200 years, why does this ship have no smell at all?"
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"This Terran spaceship is too clean," Zachon spoke to his partner Gharkis. "Something isn't right."
"Isn't a clean spaceship a good thing?" Gharkis was confused. "Surely we can inspect and let this ship pass easily. I hated that Wurm-infested ship that came by a week ago. Killing the Wyrms with fire was hell."
"Dude, humans breathe and sweat. It collects on everything, and without regular sanitising, it smells. Bad," Zachon crinkled his brows and waggled his antennae.
"Uh huh," Gharkis nodded. "So they cleaned up well."
"No, that's the thing," Zachon downloaded the ship's logs and translated them into Xylonian. "They're lax in cleaning and maintenance. The last maintenance recorded by the ship's system was 100 years ago. These are the descendants of the original crew that set off from earth. And this ship has carried humans for 200 years. With no smell."
"Sounds...good."
Zachon shook his head. "That's good for them. Not for us. There's an anomaly we should investigate before this ship can pass Xylonian Intergalactic Customs."
"It's a nice anomaly that cleans up after the humans," Gharkis shrugged.
"That may also do other things," Zachon was worried. "What if it was secretly a contraband? A banned species? Forbidden technology?"
"Bro, it cleans up after humans. It can't be that bad. Zach, c'mon, let's just finish up our report and let this go. So we can knock off, finish our shift and go home."
Unable to dissuade Zachon, Gharkis sighed before following him into the deeper corridors of the spaceship.
It was too quiet. Not even the whirring of machinery. The beeps and blips of mechanisms. Yet, it felt like something, or someone was watching them.
One slip up on a carpet, one pen falling towards the ground, and the flooring rippled akin to living flesh and swallowed Gharkis' pen. All without a sound.
"What was that?" The alien jumped up in alarm, dropping his badge, which sank into the flowing flesh-like floor.
"I don't know!" Zachon bellowed. "But we're getting out of here and barring this ship from passing customs! Call in the military to kill it by fire!"
Wires peeled themselves from the ceiling, attempting to ensnare the Xylonians. The carpet rose and whipped about as a tentacular tongue. All while they ran past humans, still hibernating in their Cryo tanks, kept in a deep sleep by the ship's systems.
Whatever mysterious protector this was, it seemed determined to repel these foreign beings. These...aliens.
When some wires coiled around Zachon's ankle, he was quick to kick off his boot to keep running. Gharkis gave another wire the slip by sliding out of his jacket. When a long fusion of seat belts slashed across the corridor, both aliens leapt as though they were playing a deadly version of skipping rope.
The exit was in sight. Zachon made a final burst in speed towards it, only for the doors to slam shut.
"Open up!" Gharkis yelled, banging his fists against the steel doors. "Let us out!"
The weaving wires wrapped themselves around the aliens' necks and tightened. It sliced into their throats, blood dripping down their uniforms. Their gurgling screams suppressed, the ship's system began to break them down into fuel and sustenance for the hibernated humans it carried in cryosleep.
When it had fully digested them, it was time to clean up. Slurp up all the blood and any traces of the aliens. A clean ship is a good ship, after all.
----
[Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, click here for more prompt responses and short stories written by me.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/)
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I watched as the ensign happily recounted what she and her colleagues found.
"It's the Empire's Nest! The mothership with the nobles Sir!
It's been missing for 200 years!" she said.
I nodded, reading through the report, and listening to her.
"And the descendants of the original crew are there!
Pure blooded humans sir!" she excitedly said.
I sighed.
"Ensign...it's a spacecraft, colonizing type from 200-250 years ago.
It's sanitizing systems are outdated, the gardens are all automatized as these descendants all live like queens, and kings.
From what you told me...festivals are weekly, parties daily...their activities resembling that of Ancient Earth Romans...during Saturnalia." I said.
"Yes. Historian Schmidt said so, but the first blood samples that they allowed us to take proved their words." she said with a smile.
I chuckled, and shook my head at the newbie.
"Ensign, if they party all day long, they are lazy, lustful, greedy...I have 2 questions.
They have no proper sanitizing systems...they breath, eat, sweat...why aren't there smells in the ship?
Even more-so considering their daily...activities, they do in the open, as you and your crew recounted." I asked.
She stopped smiling.
"Then we can go to the next one, the blood samples.
Indeed, they are biological, ancient humans, and the samples are of perfect health...then after fornicating left and right...even if so recently...why is the population exactly the same as the original crews'?" I asked.
At this she paled.
"W-What are they Sir?" she asked.
"Mimics, monsters, gods from beyond our realm of understanding, skinwalkers...or my theory, which is the most common one I saw happen: androids." I said.
"Androids?" she asked.
"Our Empire still uses androids, and robots, but we aren't humanizing them anymore...200 years ago on the other hand...we liked to make them as humanoid as possible.
Seen cases where old robots and androids took the skin of their deceased masters, revitalized them, and wore them, playing the role of their masters." I said.
She paled even more, shifting left and right.
I stood up, and steadied her.
"Protocols are clear, Ensign...so don't worry." I said.
At this, she rushed away, holding her mouth.
"Omega." I said.
"Yes, Captain?" the ship's A.I. answered.
"Release the gas into the ship we are hatched to, monitor the vital signs, and repeat this for 12 cycles of 2 hours each.
Afterwards send the Android crew for a check up, if there is the slightest anomaly in any of the units, disengage, unhatch, and bombard the ship." I said, sitting back down.
"Yes, Captain." Omega said, as I heard the alarm bleeping, and watched how the gas was released into the other ship...waiting patiently...
If they were humans for real, the gas will make them sleep, if they are anything else...it will corrode them.
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[WP] It's been 6 years since the zombie apocalypse started, thousands die weekly, but society hasn't changed much. Your local news tracks zombie migration. An armored school bus picks kids up every morning. Your local walmart just installed a fancy new bio-scanner. And you still need to go to work.
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Ragers, shamblers, crazies, and normies.
That's just what we call the customers. Zombies are just zombies. All the cool parts of a zombie apocalypse from the movies have been woefully absent, and all that remains is more of the same. I stood still for my scan before putting on my blue vest to start the day.
My register for the day was already abandoned as I approached, likely due to the rager with the line behind him. Something something, "political nonsense", something about having rights, and then he said the magic phrase. In refusing his scan, I summoned our security squad with a wave of my hand. They moved in swiftly, physically carrying him away to remove him from the store, before putting him on the company blacklist. Although I was vaccinated per my employment contract, I still kept my distance as they moved past with the unpredictable nutcase in tow.
Being blacklisted from Walmart is a big deal these days. The outbreak came fast and hard. The population dropped by about a third in almost a week before governments around the world were able to take control of the situation. In the chaos, none but the biggest of businesses were able to survive. For those who disagree with Amazon's zombie labor, Walmart is their only remaining option.
In the years since, most people find themselves in one of two camps. You either believe that China failed an attempted worldwide biohazard takeover, or it was an operation executed by a clandestine organization meant to usher in the new world order that exists today. Pick your crazy. The world media sure did, and boy, did they run with it.
With everyone focused on why they're the ones who are right instead of figuring out solutions, society has been stuck in "limp mode" for the past six years. Thankfully, China learned from the last global pandemic and were highly prepared for this one, leading to draconian isolation measures, the ability to keep churning out products, and immense speculation of involvement with the outbreak.
None of this mattered to me. The one silver lining on this crap cloud was that WalMart needed all the help it could get, which resulted in a labor revolution born out of necessity. Worker safety was paramount, recently demonstrated by the security posse. Even then, they had trouble finding enough people to tolerate everything, leading to ever-increasing wages with every employee who walked out.
I sighed as I stepped up to my register. It wasn't really a terrible life, but 12 hours is still 12 hours. "Thank you for shopping at Walmart, apologies for the delay. Please step forward to start your scan."
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Do any of you know how long a zombie outbreak usually lasts? If you said 3 weeks, you'd be right on the money, and even then it's not that serious. Sure, you'd get the odd mugger, rapist, or murderer chewed up and torn limb from bloody limb, but usually it's just citywide or, at worst, regional. This outbreak was global and it had lasted for 6 years, all because of a new, undiscovered variant that had somehow made its way into a batch of heroin.
Said bad batch was mistakenly grabbed by a crackwhore who used it to OD after her unborn child was killed by a mix of kicking and a broken bottle. She became Patient Zero, gradually killing and maiming her way to the top of a pandemic-causing horde before she was captured. They found out she was just incredibly pissed at her assaulters and their supporters, but eventually she calmed down. They got her help along with many other zombies, and eventually she volunteered for a vaccine, allowing zombies and humans to be immune to becoming the mindless walking dead.
Human and zombie worked together to eliminate the true zombies, nicknamed ghouls, yet there were always a few who survived. That being said, Patient Zero moved on from her previous life and eventually worked her way to a CEO position of a trading company. She finally had her kid after she healed, now having a 5-year-old daughter. She had healed, but I was still reeling from the whole apocalypse.
I got out of my cubicle hotel room, stretching as I got the files ready. Putting them into the case, I sent them through the chute before I went back to sleep. After all, some good things that came out of this whole apocalypse were capsule hotels in office buildings, not having to travel to work, stable living wages being the minimum wage, an efficient and effective contamination-reducing transfer system, and shorter workdays with a higher pay per hour. At least I wouldn't be late for work.
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[WP] “So my mom is half-Fae, and my dad is half-dragon; that’s where my powers come from. How about you?” “I’m half-mermaid on my mom’s side, hence the wheelchair.” Your new magic school roommates suddenly turn to you. “What about you?”
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"Me?"
"Yes, you", Elenor the half-Fae replied.
"Well, my father's a warlock, and my mother, well..."
I felt my face getting red and started fidgeting. Gods above, why do I feel so embarrassed just talking about my parents?
"Go on..."
"I really don't want to say..."
Melody the half-mermaid piped up. "Well, you had to get your powers from *somewhere* - as far as I know, warlocks can't pass their abilities onto their children," she said.
"Well, aren't you the smart one," Elenor teased.
I gulped. Time to rip the band-aid off, I guess. "My mother's [the demon my father made a pact with](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1er8k01/wp_let_me_get_this_straight_your_patron_is_your/lhymzr5/)."
Both girls spent the next few seconds struggling to keep their laughter in. "I'm going to assume you're the firstborn?" Melody asked once she composed herself enough to speak.
"...yes."
"Well, that's one way to fulfill the bargain," Elenor remarked, still trying to keep herself together.
She then saw me glowing beet red and sighed. "If it makes you feel any better," she said, "your parents aren't the only ones who met that way."
"Really?"
"Yeah - I've heard similar stories from one of my aunts. Course, they don't always end up with children, but, you know..."
There was a moment of awkward silence before I said, "You know, that did make me feel a bit better."
"Well, good," Elenor replied. "Because stuff like this still blows my mind, no matter how often that happens!"
I groaned and buried my face in my hands. This is why I don't like talking about my parents.
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Gwendolin- So my mom is half-Fae, and my dad is half-dragon; that’s where my powers come from. How about you?
Ariel- I’m half-mermaid on my mom’s side, hence the wheelchair.
Al' Masar- My dad is a Djinni and My mom is a water genasi, so it might come as a bit of a problem to Take notes....
Your new magic school roommates suddenly turn to the one beside you.
Everyone- What about you?
You dreaded this moment for a while, but, extrangely, You are pretty calm now.
Matias- Well, My dad was a centaur and My mum was a horse head minotaur and so...
Gwendolin- Huu...
Matias- I know what it looks like, but it's not a spell, as i was saying, i inhereted both horse parts of My parents, and My sister got the human ones
Matilda- (aproval horse noises)
Al' Masar- Shouldn't she be capable of talking?
Matias- Yea, that's why i'm here, It's either that or cast speak with animals every 2 hours
Matias- *This is going to be one hell of a first day.... Sorry lil sis*
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jhd4mo3
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jhcqqpl
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[WP] You've noticed that unlike the rest of your companions, the elves you're travelling with have never excused themselves to answer nature's call, even though they eat and drink just as often as you do. When you work up the courage to ask the elves about this, their explanation astounds you.
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Coming back to camp after relieving himself, Garry sat with the strange realization that he was the only one in his party to relieve himself. The others, both elves and dwarves, sat around the fire drinking merrily after a long day of travel. Garry sat down between two of his closest companions, simmering on his thoughts.
“A copper piece for your thoughts!” Hagish, the female dwarf shouted to him when she saw his dejected look. “It’s just…” Garry considered responding but pondered his decision in a moment of silence. “I’ve noticed none of you ever have rest stops. I think I’m having a little culture shock but how am I the only one that has to take rest breaks?” Garry finished his final thoughts in a hushed voice, fearing he may insult the others around the campfire. There was nothing in the history books about waste management, and Garry didn’t want to insinuate that the great races of the world wore diapers.
Hagish looked over to the elf sitting on the other side of Garry and their eyes met. Zindela asked “We’ve been wondering about that. What are you doing when you leave? Is it anxiety? Do we need to go slower? None of us have ever traveled with a human” Garry was shocked at this. “No, I’m not just resting. I’m… RELIEVING MYSELF!” Garry whispered this in a high-pitched whine which caught the wind and fluttered over the entire campfire. All conversation stopped, each head turned to look at Garry, and the melodic melodies of the lute stopped abruptly.
“So, humans relieve themselves every day? That’s terrible!” one elf from the other side of the fire blurted out. Garry looked at the rest of the crowd in abject horror. Zindela pushed his glasses up to his nose, began to talk and then stopped for a moment. “We don’t, um. We don’t relieve ourselves every day. No. Have you ever heard of the great Melancholy?”
Garry had read of the melancholy. Supposedly, it was common for Elves to go into a deep seclusion once a century and meditate on their past. Many times, according to the books, elves came back from the Melancholy free of earlier burdens and well rested. “Of course, I’d been meaning to ask you about it at some point.” Horror slowly dawned over Garry’s face. “Don’t tell me, is the Melancholy…”
Zindela looked over to the other elves across the fire for help but they were stalk still and silent. None of them understood human culture enough to walk this perilous mine field of cultural nuances. “We like to make it sound all high and mighty because it’s a little embarrassing. The waste from our systems build up for a century and” Zindela paused before finishing his sentence in one single breath so this conversation could be done “we expel it over the period of a year. Now that I’ve explained it, I hope to never speak of this again.” Each elf looked into the fire for a long period, remembering their own harrowing experiences in the past. After a long pause the music kept playing and the elves continued talking amongst each other. Garry drank the rest of his drink, trying not to imagine what a century of manure looked like.
Hagish leaned over as Garry drank his mead and whispered in his ear “Us dwarves just wear diapers. It’s hard to find a good place to go in the mine. Do you want one? It’s only slightly used”
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"... So that's what I mean. I do it. Beatrice does it. Imani and Baku are from the nubian deserts" He fingers the shape of a foreign continent in the air. "They do it. That orc... guy-"
"Zogstuf" She said, discerningly.
"Yeah" He points. "Zogg. He does it. Alot. Like a shitload- no pun intended."
"What *pun*?" Gylledhia's sharp, steely brow furrowed.
...
"... What?"
"'Shit' is a human expletive. It is recent."
"Yeah." He muttered. "It is. But that's because... it comes *out* of you." He gestures his hands downward "It's gross."
"Nothing comes out of me, Derek." She barked sitting impossibly still
"Yeah, except when...." He trailed off. "You eat plenty of apples, and it comes out *firm* right?" gripping the air.
"I don't follow" she lisped dangerously.
"**Okay!**" He yelped "Like, you know the think between your-"
"I'm aware. Males and females use it to-"
"**Yeah!** That. But there's something else.... we *do*." He begins pacing, voice lightening "Most of the time. Especially men like me and Baku, stuck in no man's land. With dwarves and... goblins and, *worgs* and... you. We just... listen to nature."
"Nature tells you to procreate. Young men like you are *dead* in 5 years. I've seen enough of you to know."
"No. I meant like..." He falls abrutly onto a nearby rock. Intentionally. "Ugh..."
...
"Like you know when you drink too much *mead* and..."
"Mead?"
"**Gods!**" A firmer voice interrupted from behind. "Do you *shit*, Gylledhia?"
"Do I?" She replied curiously.
"I just took a fat one-"
"Do you have no restraint man!?" Derek whispered.
"What *good* is that?" he sung maniacally.
"In front of a *woman* Baku. Shame onto you! And your sister-"
The elf's face and pure purple eyes contorted even more, she sprung up abruptly. "Hold!" They knew what this meant.
She returned to her tent to tended to her equipment. Derek still, flinching silently for what wrath Baku may have incurred, while the man himself waits with glee, eager.
She comes out and orders both of them to sit.
"I don't answer to nature, as you say."
...
"Speak."
"Uh..." Derek paused. “What do you do.”
"Not your concern…”
“… I told Derek 'nothing’ comes out of me, but something does. Infants. A couple thousand of them. Tens of thousands of years ago. From you lot… I’ve lived long enough to where it no longer concerns me.”
…
“Okay?” Derek responded with an oddly high volume. “That’s personal.”
“Neither of you will live to tell. I know this. But you are entertaining. I hope you have issue.”
…
…
“Baku. How *would* you?"
"Through your butthole!" the man chapped up.
Her eyes settled, then quickly widened.
"***HOLE!?***" Gylledhia shouted.
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[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.
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My first thought: “I’m supposed to ride this?”
We’re all coached on what to expect. But what do you do when your dragon is… different?
The coaches are keeping their distance. It is well established that even in the case of a medical emergency, you don’t get near a dragon or its rider.
It’s why we take years of training before this moment. Dragon first aid. First aid on ourselves. We learn every possible outcome. There are proud dragon riders with missing eyes, fingers, even one missing a foot from a… rambunctious hatchling.
So what, what is this before me?
The tiny creature barely fills half its egg. It is covered with sleek… fur?
Its huge, pleading eyes look at me expectantly.
Before I have a chance to think about what I am doing, all my training to let your dragon come to you, to keep your distance until it accepts and bonds with you, has fled from my mind and my hands are scooping up the tiny scared thing out of its own outsized egg.
The remnants of the membrane which should be still clinging to the hatchling dragon hang like bits of spiderweb in the cavernous hollow of the egg.
I might have thought it not a dragon at all, given its size and, well obviously the fur, but taking it into my hands, it is tiny and furred but otherwise a perfectly shaped dragon.
It’s hooked egg tooth with which it broke through the egg, the slim muzzle and jaws, four clawed limbs and two membranous wings, all a quarter of the size they should be.
Terror. It’s terrified.
The thought is clear in my mind.
Rejected. I’ll be rejected. I’ll be culled. Die. I’m going to die.
It takes me a few moments to realize the thoughts are not my own.
I stare into its… no, her, her giant violet eyes.
I start to speak then realize I don’t need to.
I’m hearing you?!
A hesitant thought of affirmation in my mind.
This isn’t supposed to happen. Dragons aren’t telepathic.
But there will be plenty of time for that later.
I accept you. I’ll protect you. You’re mine. No one gets to hurt you.
I become quickly aware that I’m going to need to back up my words as I see the three coaches overseeing the hatching coming towards me with a cage and collar. The culling tools.
Holding her close to my chest, my next words surprise even me.
“She’s mine. I have accepted her. You can’t take her.”
The coaches look at each other. Their own dragons stand nearby behind them.
“But… it’s misshapen, we have to take…”
“HER. And her name is Penelope. No one is taking her anywhere.”
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It was a wiggly, legless boy... I stared at my son, with awe and confusion, stared at everyone else... and then back.
"OH NO!" The guild master turned pale. "You got the wrong egg!"
"Welp!" I waked away with him trying to flag me down.
"Wait wait wait! Which one of my assistants gave you that one!" He managed to get in front of me.
I cocked an eyebrow and looked to all the others behind me. I knew which assistant did it. The same one who hated me and threatened to feed me to a Mealwyrm, so I gladly pointed her out. She turned very pale, she knew such a deadly '*mess up*' would not only get her kicked, but also arrested and black listed.
"Okay, do you know what that is?" He was so afraid to touch da baby. I don't blame him, Mealwyrms are deadly to the touch and I was only not burning because I was a plasmoid and we were naturally immune.
"Yeah, I dealt with Mealwyrms before. Just never a baby until now." I moved passed him to keep going.
He wasn't surprised that I survived an encounter, its not hard when you're faster than everyone else in your village but that was back in my prime. I'm now a lot thicker as much of me has evaporated. I kept going to find a nice, quiet place. They gave me this baby, even if the specifics was due to malice, I was gonna do all I can to take care of him. I heard the others fighting, I never turned back- until I needed to get back to work the next week.
Between the back and forth, time went flying. Its been about 60 years, turned out they age a LOT slower than us Plasmoids. My death bed has been waiting for me and I know they'd kill him the moment I'm not here. I need to find him a home but there is a reason why Mealwyrms are rare as they are. No one wants them, well no one but me. I can't die until I know he is able to defend himself properly. I just wish I knew how to avoid death like how I avoid taxes.
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[WP] “I wish that all exercise I do is equal to doing it ten times as much.” The Genie looks concerned “Have you really thought about what that means?” Their normal devious intentions floated away no need to twist the outcome this time…
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People have told Sarah that she had a habit of biting off more than she could chew her whole life. It's not like she didn't believe them. A 'normal' girl's ambitions probably involved more flowers and swooning over knights than traversing ancient catacombs. Not that she particularly enjoyed running from massive rolling boulder traps or battling giant spiders or anything. But when the healer told her that her heart would fail her before she hit her 40s she knew she would be willing to take a bite out of a god if that's what it took.
Her bargain with the genie had worked out... mostly. Sarah consulted many scholars on the matter and after convincing them that no she was not suicidal and yes she did in fact plan on challenging the labyrinth which killed countless heros before her - she got surprisingly helpful advice on how to frame her wish. It basically boiled down to two things. Don't be direct and don't try to wiggle your way out of all bad side effects. A strong boost to the effectiveness of exersize sounded just like the kind of wish a lazy fool would make to try and get out of working hard and the genie saw no need to twist her words further.
"Not -" grumbled Sarah to herself "that he needed to."
Sarah no longer had to worry about her heart, whatever weakness which made it grow weaker each passing day was more than alleviated by the workout it got by simply existing and beating. However Sarah found herself in a brand new kind of hell. The hell of boredom. Most who made similar wishes in the past found that normal everyday exersions were now beyond them. Walks to the market became marathons and a flight of stairs a mountain. But Sarah was already close to the peak of human physical fitness and marathons and scaling cliffs were part and parcel for her. It was just that... that was all she could do. Walks to the market and stairs that is.
It turns out that while hearts can fail from being too weak.. they could also fail from being too strong. So now Sarah spend all her days ... lying around. Doing.. nothing. The healers were clear, she could now live to a ripe old age if she wished. But her next adventure would be her last. So Sarah spent her days in her room thinking - just thinking - about what it was that she truly wished.
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My wish is granted and the genie vanishes inside the lamp, a weird sound like supressed laughter emerges as the smoke goes pouring inside.
I grab the lamp and decide to test my wish with a light jog back home. Suddenly, the lamp is heavy, my clothes are heavy and even the air starts to feel heavy. I haven't jogged a block, when my jogging turns to walking, and five blocks later, it turns into pacing, one heavy step after another. With each step doubtful of the next one I start to think that I grossly underestimated my wish.
But I endure and eventually, I reach my building. As soon as I cross the threshold the weights are lifted. The lamp is once again filled with genie shaped smoke instead of mockery shaped lead. My clothes are light again, heavy only with the weight of my sweat. And I breathe, I breathe in a very conscious manner, feeling the oxygen refueling my aching everything.
When my body feels capable of walking once again I start the usual route to my apartment thinking. "It's ok. It's just going to take some time to getting used to. No more casual training I suppose". I call the elevator. I'd usually take the stairs, but my legs protest too much for it.
Once I'm home, the sofa welcomes me and my legs welcome the respite. I breath a sigh of relief and as I take another gulp of air, morpheus takes me.
Your phone call wakes me. I quickly reconstitute myself and head straight for a much needed shower. I dress quickly and head straight out. I'm already late but not unfashionably late, I could make it if I run. But... It would be faster to walk.
So you see. That's why I'm so unfashionably late.
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jtzvyti
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jtzseve
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[WP] You used to be the scourge of kingdoms, the reaper of heroes and the mere mention of your name scared even the toughest of them. But today no one remembers you and you are fine with that. You have lived in peace ever since until one day a stranger approaches you and calls you by your true name.
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“Lagus.” The name is a statement, but I don’t turn around, my beer paused on its journey to my mouth. “Lagus Oryn, don’t ignore me.”
I slowly lower the cup.
“Fine, I can wait. For a while,” the figure grabs the stool next to me and takes a seat. It’s a young woman, a girl really. Young enough that she shouldn’t be in a bar, definitely.
“Should you be drinking that?” I finally ask after the drains her second goblet without breaking her stare.
“Finally. A good ol’ binge drink usually gets you old farts talking,” she says, slamming down the empty goblet with a smile.
*Not human*, my instincts say. I’ve spent years in retirement, so the list of possibilities is foggy, drained away by disuse. *Elf, immortal child, nightwalker,* the list goes on.
“What do you want?” I ask, because I wouldn’t trust any answer it gave if I asked who it was.
“Well, me personally, I don’t want much. The heroes you’ve sent to the afterlife and their loved ones, however…” Instinct has me gripping my knife hilt, gathering the long slumbering magic in my blood. “Woah, calm down. I’m not threatening you. Believe me, when I threaten you, *you’ll know.”*
Panic pounds in my heart, a strange fear whispering *run, run, run* with every beat. Was it the discomfort of being discovered? Maybe partially, but I could always pick up and leave. No, it was this child, I decided. Something was off about her.
“You seem to mistake me. I’m calm, just prepared. Who has sent you?”
“No one, and quite a lot of people at the same time.” The child is smiling now, twirling a blade as she speaks, letting sink with a *thunk* every now and then into the table. “Believe me when I tell you it’s in your best interest to be honest with me.
“You’ve shed plenty of innocent blood, a little guilty as well. You tore through the people of the world seeking world domination, until your wife and child died on one of your campaigns. You hung up your whips and pokers and retired quietly to the countryside.
“Of course the power vacuum left by your disappearance lead to another hundred years of war, but what did you care? You needed to lick your wounds. You’ve been living a quiet life since. You wave to neighbors, you go to the local whorehouse when your bored, and you drink here.
“I could fill oceans with the women and men and, yes even children you’ve killed.” She stands from her seat, expression mysterious, eyes winking with light. “You’ve never admitted anything was wrong about your actions. ‘Good intentions,’ right? Not when you strung up that Elvish hero, not when you decimated an entire Aguan village and raped all their women and girls. Not when you still ask the women at the whorehouse to fight back… So, do you admit this, Lagus? How do you plead?”
The words won’t come out. How dare she? What does she mean plead? This child has come to judge me? What does she know of true pain?
I tighten my grip on my mug and stand, drawing power protectively to myself. My heart pounds.
“I’ve tired of your games. Goodbye.”
I make it to the door without incident and then my world stops, spinning. I turn back and the girl’s face is a skull, her black cape open to reveal twin scythe-like blades in her hands. A ticking clock booms, deafening and loud.
“Your time is up,” the girl says, walking toward me. I struggle, stuck to the ground. “Goodbye, Lagus. This won’t be a pleasant afterlife.”
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I decided that I would write this note and leave it here for anyone who can decipher my handwriting to read. To hopefully understand that I am genuinely remorseful for what I have done before I came to this place.
They came for me in the dead of night when I was a child. That night broke me and allowed them to reshape me in the image they desired. As I grew in body, so I grew in rage and I dedicated myself to the training they demanded. They stole my name and replaced it with their own.
And I let them because I wanted to please them. And I hated myself for it.
Eagerly I embraced the Destiny that they set before me to prove my worth. With their enchanted equipment I was unstoppable. First I crushed their enemies, than I crushed them.
None could stand against me, my armor repelled the strongest blows and my blade was imbued with unholy rage. I stalked the land with a gathered flock of fiends and harried villages throughout the land.
Until one day while I sat in a brown study, I heard someone speak my name. The name my mother had called me by, so long ago. But that was not her voice, so I turned to see who it was.
An old man in clean, neat robes stood by a tree, gazing about with a natural casualness.
“You have done terrible things.”
“I have.” I agreed with him. And to my great surprise, I discovered that there was no sarcasm in my voice. He was not accusing, simply stating a fact, and it was the lack of judgement that affected me, I think.
“Do you think that Goswin would fear you?”
Goswin? I had not heard that name in a lifetime, although I thought of him far more often that I would readily admit. We had been boys together; I was tall and strong, but Goswin was small and frail.
He had the quick, bright disposition of a squirrel. I envied him, his joyous, carefree nature because I sensed that, were circumstances different, he could be my brother. Together we could have roamed the countryside as heroes, and I suspected that was his secret desire as well.
Instead, I allowed others to guide my path, no matter how much it sickened and enraged me to be so weak.
"I can't fix it. There's no way to undo that kind of damage."
"No, you can't." The robed man shook his head and shrugged. "You can start over. You can be better."
And I knew he was right. So, I put aside my weapons and my armor and I left that life behind. I came here and built a school so that they could learn. Then I built a library so they could study.
And still, I find myself an outsider. I do not trust myself to become to close to these people, least I inadvertently poison them. So perhaps it is time for me to move on once again, and strengthen a new community.
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j5lc6ub
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j5lbm9d
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[WP] Small domestic house dragons have become the norm. Here is a guide on how to deal with the hoarding instinct of your little one.
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Jim from Pennsylvania asks :
"My Red Scale Western has been cooping himself up in the closet and taking all of my loose change and piling it up on the top shelf. He has been doing this for months and I'm starting to get concerned that he will break the shelf and gets a bit aggressive when I need to get my clothes. Are there any ways to train him out of this? Or at least get him to move?"
Thanks for the question and the post, Red Scales tend to be the more aggressive when it comes to defending their hoard, but they can be easily won over. First, I'd suggest getting some really well cleaned pennies, or if your red scale is like mine, nickels. When you need into your closet, the Dragon is going to react according to instincts, that you are an invader coming to take its shinnies away. When he hisses or snarls, offer up a nickel and slowly slide it towards him. This will confuse him at first but when you are about fifty cents in, the hissing will die down, as he will start to recognize that you are a good thing.
Now the moving of the hoard part is going to be a bit harder, but what you would need to do is show him that there is a better spot. I got my Red a modified Cat Tree from our sponsor Scale-Center and started leaving a few nickels over in the new spot and while I was working on my article, Ignis moved all of his coins to the Cat Tree and my hamper was no longer a lost pool of change. This doesn't work with everyone and bribing a dragon can get expensive but start off cheap try Aluminum foil if they just like the shine, try fake gems instead of real ones, and if feeding their hoard doesn't work, a good cut of steak, fish, or treats will work as well, as they think with their stomach just about as much as they will with their brain.
You can't un-work the hoarding problem, as it has been a trait in their breed for centuries and they aren't going to stop any time soon. Don't punish them otherwise they will learn to hate you and they will get out and run away. Feral Dragons are a thing and have been responsible for a few fires, and other missing pets. Their hoard is like your social status to them, their worth is their hoard. They sleep better, they are more affectionate, and they even live longer with proper hoard maintenance. You just need to be a good friend to them, and you will be allowed to touch and move it, with their permission.
I hope that answers your question Jim, I do think my next article is going to be more tips about Dragon Hoarding behaviors, practices, and techniques to ensure healthy instincts. As I have plenty of readers wanting to know how to clean the hoards, and what to do in worse cases scenarios. Until next time dear readers, this is the Dragon Speaker, signing off.
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Problem with your little buddy’s hoard?
We all know dragons are adorable companions, capable of mass destruction and fierce protectors. However, these little fire sparks sometimes have bad habits. One of the statistically most disliked habit of near all dragon species is hoarding.
Trinkets, gold, wood, chairs. Dragons love to hoard things and stack them in a safe place, then show them off to others. Most of the time, these hoards are manageable and small, simply being the location where the dragon rests and plays. Sometimes, though, especially for larger breeds, these hoards can intrude on human space and even pose a risk.
So how do you end your dragon’s hoarding instinct once and for all? We have the answers.
First, don’t take it all away suddenly. This will cause extreme stress on the dragon, possibly causing it to claw walls and floors in an attempt to find it. It may lose sleep and refuse to eat, and it will make it distrust you. Instead, begin by slowly taking an object every day, one after another, and putting it back where it belongs. The dragon may pick it up again and move it back, but patience is key; after a while of this routine, the dragon will accept the item’s disappearance and you can begin deconstructing the horde. The dragon will likely build another, but use this as an opportunity to show boundaries; if the items are too important, dangerous, or the hoard is too big, simply move it or edit the size and amount of objects. This is the most effective way of allowing your pet dragon to adapt to a new hoard size or lack whilst still maintaining the bond between dragon and owner.
Another way, if your dragon simply refuses to let go of the hoard, begin sitting on the hoard or near it, and move items around. Dragons don’t like their humans disturbing their hoard, so the dragon will eventually abandon the hoard. This has the risk of your dragon losing its trust in you, however.
If these methods do not work, see a professional dragon trainer for advice.
See next: 10 ways to tell your dragon you love them, how to make your dragon grow bigger, how to change your dragon’s scale colors safely.
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jm6ebrf
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jm62tlo
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[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.
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"Do not fight them."
So said the Voltians. They who were a race that resembled sea foam and jellyfish, they who called the deep seas of their ocean planet home, they who speak and hear the souls of all that pass by.
The crocodilian Akligars' souls was of drums and waves and birds of prey. Their mangrove planet was a hostile world, so they developed rituals of song and dance that scared away predators and attracted mates. In times, tribes would converse in war-drums, the side that lasted the longest and with the most vigor would come absorb the members of the other.
The cattish people of Lompia had souls that echoed with the sound of grass and paws on loam, their predator nature evident in their postures and the short screams of prey every so often. For the uninitiated, it can be jarring...and for some, an exhilarating experience. Untrained Voltians are typically unallowed to meet Lompians until their two hundredth moon.
The warmongering Auks laughed deeply in their blood red souls, the sound of coins and thrusters mixed in as well. Profit and bloodshed were their favourite past time, and none are suited better. It is when said that if you meet an Auk, the worst think that can happen if that they start laughing; they have found a plaything that will keep them happy for a long, long time.
But then, a newcomer arrived at the galactic scene. Young, unproven, and a bit of an upstarter. Pink skinned, two legged, two armed - honestly, somewhat standard for the galaxy. They sent ambassadors and ships and workers and soldiers, all to be expected, all to know better now that their neighborhood has become far louder then they have ever expected. They were called humanity...and the first Voltian to meet them shriveled up like jerky. When they were resuscitated, they confined themselves to their room for many moons.
When they came out, they issued a warning; "Do not fight them."
Do not fight them, for their souls scream with the pain of a billion trillion lives, as if the hounds of hell have long since began to gnaw on their bones.
Do not fight them, for their souls scream in resonant beats that would far outlive any war-drum, screams that would terrify even the boldest of bird of prey.
Do not fight them for they scream like prey that has been trapped in a corner, with naught left to do but fight to the death for their lives.
Do not fight them for their screams will choke out any laughter, any coins, any thrusters; there is no profit to be found in a fight with them, no joy in conflict.
Their soul is one of Death, a banshee's wail of prophesized end. If you hear the screams of Humanity...flee, and pray that you have fled far enough to die before they find you.
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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.
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lu57n2c
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lu4vf9o
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[WP] You are a gladiator that can win fight after fight against even the most powerful wizards. Your secret? You were cursed as a kid to nullify any magic that came close to you.
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Ever since I was born, I had a complete and total immunity to magic. While it was my greatest strength, it was also my greatest weakness. After all, I could not be healed by any magic, which made encounters in the wild more dangerous than any could imagine. As an adventurer, it isn't hard to see why that would be the case. But... my body was also at war with itself, due to my lineage. I was only a half-human, after all. I constantly felt ill, and I had to train very hard for my body to be at the peak condition that it is in now. But another side affect of the curse? The one that hurt the most? I could not touch any magical beings.
As a child born from a fairy mother and human father, this meant I could no longer be around my mother. My very presence posed a danger to her. It broke her heart to know that she could not hold me. She always watched over me from a distance. But there was always a fear, somewhere behind her eyes. And then one day, she passed away. She became gravely ill, and could not be cured, due to her banishment from her tribe. Our human medicine simply could do nothing to treat this fairy illness. And the last thing she wanted to feel was my hands.
I can never forgive the man that did it. My own grandfather, on my mother's side. All because he disapproved. Ever since that day, I've been looking for them. But this particular fairy tribe was nomadic, and it was incredibly difficult to track them down. And my journey led me here, to this arena. I was not forced in: I volunteered. The person who ran the event had made me a promise, "Slay one hundred mages, and I'll point you in the direction you've asked." He seemed to think a guy of my build couldn't do it. It was a foolish trade, but not for me. I never really had to explain why I was immune to magic. Most people just assumed I had some resilience, or luck, or perhaps my armor was enchanted, or maybe the gods were looking over me. I felt like I was hustling this fellow. I kind of was. But I really needed to find my extended family. The letter in my breastplate demanded me too. The last wish of my mother...
I always wondered what I'd do when I saw him. And now, here I am, nearly a month after accepting this guy's demand, with my hundredth victim in hand. I can feel the anticipation as he approaches me, a huge smile on his face, as he hands me a parchment, a map of some kind. I suppose this is the end of our arrangement. I smile as he invites me to return some day, and we both laugh. After some goodbyes, I'm on my way.
I glance at the map as I walk, and realize my journey will take me another two months. I sigh, realizing I have yet to reach the end. But I can feel my mother beside me, urging me on. I know this is what she would have wanted. Well. She told me so. Maybe not with words, but with her eyes. What was that letter doing there, anyway?
Maybe when I see him, I'll give him a good punch.
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I was the Champion of the Colosseum of the Damned.
A gladiator in profession, a slave in nature, captured to be the toy of mages, and wizards of all ages, wanting to "fight" to death.
It was funny, because all gladiators were...magicless, that's from where the "Damned" comes, after all...in our world, magic is sign of authority, and those without are seen as...lesser.
Yet...I never lost, not even against wizards centuries old.
Why?
I was cursed as a child to nullify any magic.
It was a curse at first, for I couldn't be healed, and I almost died to diseases countless times.
It was a curse for it meant I will never become a mage, and thus...I became a slave.
And then...it became a blessing, for no spell could land on me.
I honed my instincts, my body to the peak, and here I am.
I got status. I got power. I am the Champion.
Nobles, and royals ask me to be their sparring partner, and that I am.
Not a target dummy, not a toy...but a sparring partner, paid by hour to help the hone their spells.
I got it good...until today.
I faced my newest enemy...the first non-mage opponent: a dragon.
This is a common practice in other colosseums, making the gladiators face creatures and beasts, and captives from other races...
But the Colosseum of the Damned is the personal playground of the mages...
I would have never thought...
I watched as the towering figure of the dragon approached me, then I looked up, into the stands...where my "sponsor" shook her head at me.
Oh...it seems I upset the wrong mage this time...
I rolled out of the dragon's claws way, but its tail came quickly afterwards, hitting me in my waist.
I was sent flying, bones cracking...inner organs shaken, maybe even ruptured.
Coughing blood, I tried to stand up, only for my legs to fail me.
No matter the elixirs, pills and herbs I ate...I still had no magic...my body was still...mortal.
I watched as the dragon came closer and closer, and I watched as in the stands, most people closed their eyes, except a youth...
A youth I just defeated a week ago.
I see...so it was him.
I smiled, as the beast's maw chomped down on me, as at least I knew why...
Why I had to die.
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jqv21dc
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jqut3np
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[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.
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Sarah always thought that older brothers got unnecessary shit for their overprotectiveness. Older sisters are worse. Way worse.
Especially when they are witches, she was not trying to swear, his sisters were actually witches, with magic!
"Look at her!" The one with lashes so thick that they made every girl in a 5 km radius jealous said.
"Very plain, isn't she?" One who looked like a model added.
Sorry, what? Plain? Sure she didn't like to dress like a runway model like her but she was not plain. She was, well she was who she was.
Sarah raised her eyebrow. Making one of them narrow her eyes.
"Sit down." One with lips so red that she looked like she drank blood instead of water said.
Not wanting to get into an argument, she sat. Also, they were powerful magical beings, and Sarah was not an idiot.
"Now it's high time we have a chat." The kindest looking one said. "A proper one."
A length of rope appeared out of thin air and Sarah blinked.
"You know what this is?" The red lips one said.
"A rope." Sarah said, trying to show that she was meek. But she was raised in a household with 3 brothers, it took a lot to faze her.
"A rope, she says." Thick lashes said. "This is the honest rope. One who is bound by it cannot lie."
"The lasso of truth? Like Wonder Woman has?" Sarah asked. A little impressed, a little perplexed.
"Where did you think she got it?" The kind one said.
Sarah shrugs. "So you want to use it one me?"
They all laugh. Like she was being stupid.
"No we are going to use it on us so that you know how serious we are of what we'll do if you hurt our brother." Red lips said.
Sarah respected that.
She also thought that she should probably introduce them to her brothers. They would get along spectacularly.
A little too spectacularly.
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“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-“
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m6w229y
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m6vq9zm
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[WP] a king has received the standard prophecy that his youngest daughter will be the one to kill him but instead of reacting as "get this baby out of my sight an abandoned it somewhere in the woods for it to die" he accepts his fate and dinner time is made very awkward
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The king sat at the head of the long, gleaming table, his fingers tapping nervously on the polished wood. “Pass the potatoes,” he said, his voice as casual as a boulder rolling downhill.
The youngest princess, barely eight, her hair a nest of golden tangles, paused mid-slice of her roast. She squinted at the king like he’d just insulted her doll collection. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“Me? Staring? I’m not staring,” the king said, though his eyes darted back to her every few seconds like moths to a flame. “It’s just… lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it? Very stabby—I mean, sunny.”
The eldest princess, who was doing her best to blend into the wallpaper, snorted into her goblet. “You’re obsessed, Father. Maybe she’ll kill you with bad table manners instead of a dagger.”
“Not helpful, Abigail,” the queen murmured, her eyes flicking between her husband and youngest daughter like she was watching an overly tense game of chess.
The prophecy had been delivered eight years ago by a wandering soothsayer who insisted on being paid in muffins. “The youngest,” she had croaked, crumbs spilling from her mouth, “will take the throne from the king.” Naturally, everyone assumed this meant murder. Except the king. The king decided it was destiny, leaned into it like a man hugging a cactus, and started treating every family dinner like it might be his last.
“Darling,” the queen said now, her voice low and sharp as the carving knife. “Could you stop twitching? You’re making everyone nervous.”
“I’m not twitching,” the king replied, his left eye twitching.
The youngest princess sighed dramatically, the kind of sigh that suggested she was already tired of this nonsense despite only being eight. “If I’m going to kill you, do you think I’d do it at dinner?”
The room fell silent, the kind of silence that suggested everyone was suddenly contemplating whether she *would*. Even the royal dog stopped chewing on a table leg to listen.
“Well, no,” the king said at last, clutching his goblet like it might offer him moral support. “But it could be poison! Or—who knows! A strategically placed pea I choke on!”
The youngest rolled her eyes with the weight of ten generations of daughters tired of their fathers’ dramatics. “If I *do* kill you, it’ll be cool. I’ll use a sword or something. Something flashy. Not food.”
“Oh, how comforting,” the king said, his voice dripping sarcasm. “A flashy murder. Wonderful.”
Abigail raised her goblet. “To flashy murders!”
“ABIGAIL!” the queen snapped, her hand slamming on the table.
The youngest giggled, which somehow made the whole situation worse. “You’re so silly, Papa. If I wanted to be queen, I’d just wait. You’re old.”
The king choked on his wine.
“Can we *please* have one dinner without talking about regicide?” the queen begged, pressing her hands to her temples.
The youngest shrugged. “He started it.”
“I did not—”
“Yes, you did,” Abigail said, grinning as she speared another potato. “You always do. Every meal. Every snack. You probably dream about it.”
The king crossed his arms, sulking like a scolded child. “Well, excuse me for being concerned about my *life.*”
“Maybe try enjoying it instead,” the queen muttered, reaching for the wine bottle.
The youngest leaned across the table, her expression suddenly serious. “I don’t want to kill you, you know.”
The king blinked at her, his jaw slack.
“I don’t,” she insisted, her voice soft but steady. “But if I have to, I’ll make it cool. Like I said.”
The queen sighed deeply as the king fainted, his face landing squarely in the mashed potatoes. Dinner carried on as usual.
|
The king sat slumped over his bowl of soup, lifeless eyes staring forward into oblivion. “Gods, Martha. What have you done to the king?” said the king’s servant as he entered the dining hall carrying what was to be the next course.
“She shot him in the back of the head.” said Thelma, the king’s eldest daughter. The king’s youngest daughter, Martha, stood next to him, tears flowing freely with her head buried in her hands. “I didn’t mean to do it!” She yelled at Thelma with as much venom as she could muster. “It was an accident, you know I would never do anything intentionally to hurt our father!”
“That doesn’t change the fact that he died.” Said Thelma flatly in response to Martha’s outburst. “The battle was firmly in our grasp until your misstep. Now we have to meet back up with the kings of Palmu and Kard to strategize for the next round of fighting. If they even wish to remain our allies at this point.”
The king’s servant looked confused, unaware of what conflict was being referenced by the royal family. He chose to remain silent in order to not reveal his lack of knowledge.
“Surely they will not abandon us in our hour of need after everything we have been through together.” argued Martha. “We have been through countless battles with them as our most trusted allies.”
“Perhaps now they see weakness in our ranks”, the servant jumped as the king lifted his head and spoke for the first time since dinner started, “and wish to join our enemies who have more combat prowess in their royal lineages.”
“Father…I” Martha began, trying to make pleading eye contact with her father.
“Silence, daughter.” said the king, not turning to look at her. “This event was foretold years before your birth by a witch that appeared in a dream. She told me “one day, many years from now, you’ll make a plan with your allies to rush A and your youngest daughter will make an error that leads to your death and the loss of the battle.” I refused to believe it at the time because I knew no offspring of mine would make such a novice mistake.”
Martha was staring at her plate, on the verge of weeping again. Massive tears welling up and threatening to soak her face and carve flowing canyons through her makeup.
The king exhaled an accepting sigh, “Martha, my daughter, look at me. I love you more than anything in the world. I apologize for my outburst and I promise it will not happen again. Now that this has happened, I can stop living my life in fear.”
“I love you more than anything too, father. Shall I go contact the other kings and let them know we’re ready to continue the next round?” Martha reached out to hold her father’s hand.
The king reached out and squeezed his daughter’s hand in return. “Yes, inform them that we are ready to crush the opposition.”
As the family departed the dining hall joking and laughing heartily, the servant began cleaning, glad to be done with what ended up being a very awkward dinner service for him.
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jf36ga1
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jf2s4ae
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[WP] You know a shapeshifter replaced your significant other a while ago. You don't much care, though; the relationship's been far healthier since.
|
Author note: Not quite the exact prompt but I thought I had a fun idea for flipping the perspective.
Usually when shapeshifters infiltrate and replace a person there are months of observation and practice mimicking them by the operative.
Last week though I got a ping on my comms that the abduction squad had “goofed a grab big time”, and the higher ups needed “any infiltrator that wouldn’t shit the bed” to replace the human male who had been, “accidentally turned off.”
Obviously they didn’t use those exact words, I’m just a bit salty about the whole thing. Less than I should be, but that’s what makes this whole mission Weird.
The dossier I got for the man all of 30 minutes before I had to have dinner with his mate, aka wife, showed that he had a very high profile position at a pharmaceutical company.
Said company was unwittingly working on manufacturing medicine for shapeshifters which were practically useless to humans. This man had been making moves to shut down the “unproductive and wasteful experimental drug research division”.
That’s about as far as I got into his background before had to replicate his features and “borrow” his clothing, which the abduction squad had at least avoided getting bloody.
I expected to be immediately made or at least raise a lot of suspicion, but the dinner was actually quite pleasant.
When I arrived at the restaurant “my wife”, Isabella, was already seated at a table for two by bay windows that framed a beautiful sunset.
As I approached I realized I had no idea what this man’s voice sounded like, so I made what I hoped was a reasonably sneaky dash towards the bathrooms and opened up “my phone”.
The guy had tons of voice memos on his phone, so I opened up the first one and prepared my voice box to modulate to his speech.
“Note to self, Isabella’s getting a bit chunky, Adriana schedule her with a trainer and dietician. Also I don’t like her hair anymore, it’s too “woke”, so get her hair cut to something moderate and sensible.”
WOW. No time like the present to test my new voice.
“Jesus I suck.”
It didn’t sound quite right so I needed another sample. On to the next voice note.
“Isabella is complaining about some house wife nonsense, Adriana send her to a spa or something. I don’t want her going to therapy or any of that nonsense. Also reschedule my dinner date with her, I’m going to the lake with some of the boys. Find a time that won’t interfere with my golf plans, or the boys weekend in Vegas. … you know what just push it out to the first open evening next month.”
I had the immediate feeling I was going to do a poor job being this guy.
“I was wrong before, this guy is a walking waste of space. The air he breathed would be better used by someone exclusively farting in it.”
Not a standard voice test, but it felt right and I was pretty certain I had used up my available time. I left the bathroom and walked to the table.
Isabella was an attractive woman of South American heritage, and I couldn’t see how the man I was supposed to be thought she was fat.
“Isabella, you look fantastic. Sorry I was late.”
She had been looking out the window as I approached, but I still saw the change in her expression from bored acceptance to confused skepticism as she turned to look at me.
I pulled out my own chair and sat, allowing her a moment to process what I was sure had been a “major goof” on my part.
She squinted at me with obvious suspicion before saying, “Well. At least this means I can eat something with my drinks.”
Ah. Not good, but not bad. Seems “my” chronic tardiness is normal and the apology is considered disingenuous as a matter of fact.
“A drink sounds lovely, and I’m famished. Let’s see … I think I’ll get an Old Fashioned, and the … hmm. I can’t read the food menu.”
Isabella laughed quietly to herself and covered her smile by taking a sip of her drink. Then she raised an eyebrow at me as if challenging me on something.
“Ohh. Well played. I cede the point to you, and would ask you the favor of helping me understand what it is I might be ordering.”
Her face did that thing where someone’s jaw goes slack but they don’t open their mouth, so it just sort of gets long and sends the message, “what the hell am I looking at?”
“… or it’s possible I haven’t worked my way back into your good graces, in which case let’s take the fun route and my dinner will be a surprise!”
Isabella just stared at me like a poleaxed ox. Or what I guess that looks like as I’ve never actually seen one. After about 45 seconds of me smiling the cheesiest goofball smile I could make she coughed and took a drink.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea, but you hate being surprised. You also can’t order my food to your liking unless you know what you’re ordering.”
“Wow when you put it that way I sound like a petty tyrant and a bore.”
Her eyes got a little wide and she thinned her lips, very much looking like someone expecting to be in trouble for something.
|
(This is my first time writing something like this so if you are so kind to give me criticism that would be nice).
Another day where he is gone, another day wehre I can do whatever I want to and don't immediately get yelled at for not being productive.
"I'm gonna be gone for two days be sure to keep the house clean yeah?"
That's what he said before he left a week ago.
He's in a hospital now, after 3 days I contacted our friend's where he was going to but they said he already left and should be back home.
He had a car crash, and it didn't look like he was going to make it.
Im worried about him, but now that I'm alone I feel better, I feel like I'm finally able to breathe.
Since he's gone I've been doing things that I always wanted to do, play my favorite music and dance around for no reason at all, playing all my favorite video games.
And most importantly I don't have constant arguments with him.
I feel guilty for feeling that way, since I do love him very much but it's a nice change. I hope he will be well.
Suddenly my phone rang, kicking me out of my thoughts.
"yes?"
" Hey Darling, it's nice to hear your voice again"
"Daniel?! You are awake? How do you feel???"
His voice sounded wierd, he talked in a calm voice and he called me Darling?
He hasn't given me a nickname ever, even though I asked him to.
"Of course, would you be so kind and open the door for me Darling? I forgot my keys"
"wait, are you outside right now?"
"Yes, it's raining, please let me inside"
I stood up from the couch and move to the front door and he really is standing in front of it.
I open the door and it seemed to have rained hard, he looks like he came out of a swimming pool.
"Daniel? How? The doctors said they weren't even sure if you would make it!?" saying these words makes me tear up
"Don't worry about it, im fine" he says giving me a warm smile.
I haven't seen him smiling like that in years
"I don't want to stress ya, but it's still raining Darling"
" oh right, im sorry!"
I move away and he walks inside, i close the door behind me.
Now that he is fully lit, i can see no trace of any injuries he had days ago wehn I visited the hospital. This is wierd
He seemed to have noticed my worried look and put his hand on my cheek and says
"Is everything alright Darling?"
He looks into my eyes waiting for me to answer but i can't.
"Darling?"
He comes closer
" who are you?" I ask , my voice is shaking
His eyes lit up and he smiles
"What are you talking about? Its me Daniel!" he chuckles.
I push him out of my way and I walk in the middle of the living room.
"Whats wrong?" he asked again also walking into the living room.
"How old am I?"
"What? You are 24"
"How old are you, Daniel?"
"I'm 35, is everything alright Darling? Do you have a Fever?"
" wehre did we first meet?" I ask in a serious tone
"I don't know what's going on with you Darling, is this supposed to be a joke?"
"Answer me!"
"you can talk to me, I'm here for you"
" I said answer me god damnit!"
He laughs, pushing his hand through his wet hair
"How did you notice?" he asked almost whispering.
" Daniel doesn't treat me like that, who the heck are you?!" i asked
" haha, I might not be the real Daniel but I'm still your Daniel" he says coming closer and hugging me tight.
" you know.... I've been watching you ever since we first met and seeing how he treated you, how he used you ugh.. I just couldn't watch it anymore I had to do something.."
He whispered into my ear, I was to confused to answer, what could he possibly mean with that.
"are you mad at me Darling?"
"no.. I kinda like the new Daniel.."
I'm surprised by what I said but it's true, these 15 minutes that I know the "new Daniel" I feel more loved than ever, he's finally treating me as his partner.
"Im glad to hear that" he says smiling
He gave me a kiss
" Don't worry, you'll never be treated like this by anyone ever again, I'm here for you now and i will never leave you alone again "
These words made me realize how crazy this is, if he's not Daniel why does he look and sound like him? He's been watching me? This is creeping me out, what the heck is that? Is it even human?
" of course I am Darling, don't think about it to much "
My eyes widened at that response he's just smiling back at me
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l3rc1wv
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l3psqtx
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[WP] “Be careful! That line of salt is the only thing keeping them at bay!” “Sea salt.” I said. Confused, he looks at me “What?” “Sea salt keeps us at bay.” I clarified.
|
“Sea salt. Sea salt keeps us at bay.” I clarified.
I'm met with startled, but confused, cries, as the two young boys turn away from the front door to face their living room couch, where I'm making myself comfortable.
"You see, while most seasoning salt is a majority sodium chloride, NaCl, - you remember that, right kiddos? From chemistry class? - the difference lies not in the composition, but the origin. Mined salt comes exclusively from the erosion of the Earth's crust, which means jack shit to us demons, but sea salt? That baby is dynamite to us!"
I lazily get up, rifling through the mementos on the mantelpiece.
"Ooh, first place in a maths competition, you could have been someone, sport! What was I saying? Oh, yeah. Sea salt, young fellas, while also surging from the erosion of the rocks that come in contact with the sea, form deposits at the sea floor. Ya know what else deposits on the sea floor?"
The boys start shaking and backing away, unaware of my companions' approach outside.
"How did you get in?!" the oldest one shouts.
"Dead creatures." I respond, ignoring his desperate query. "Did anyone ever tell you demons can possess more than just human bodies? Like the old tale of, what was his name, Yoshua? Yeshua? You know, the guy who forced a spirit into pigs and then had them jump off a cliff to their death?"
"I have a weapon! I can hurt you!" The kid pathetically clutches the aluminium baseball bat, already looking dented and flimsy from overuse.
"But there's a little problem. All animals have souls too, and being without sin, they go to some form of heaven, probably a huge farm, or fish tank in this case. And the big man upstairs, he decided to be a decent fella for once, and instilled a protection upon the bodies of all souls up in heaven."
I can smell their nervous sweat, laced with fear. I think the oldest one might have pissed himself too.
Pathetic.
"So, sea salt. Specifically, sea salt with a higher concentration of salts other than NaCl, obtained from the decomposition of animals. That's what keeps us away."
I'm now inches away from them, as they try as hard as they can to stay on the right side of the salt line they drew.
"But wait, this is sea salt! How did you even get inside?" the young one finally speaks. He sounds smart. He's probably the maths genius.
As I raise my hands to shove them across the threshold, a smile spread from cheek to cheek on my face.
"You forgot the kitchen door..."
|
John blinked, as he looked down at the salt circle that'd been drawn and back at the fish man who stood in front, on the other side.
"Come again?"
"It's *sea* salt that keeps us at bay. Not table salt" the fish man deadpanned, as John looked incredulously at him before turning his critical gaze onto Marv - his assistant.
"God damn it Marv, I told you *explicitly* to get the sesalt!"
Marv, a skinnier boy barely 18 wearing glasses quaked in his boots, and argued "I did! I brought you sesalt, see it's right there on the package!"
John blinked, and looked at the box he held in his hand and sure enough it had the words "sesalt table salt" printed on it.
The fishman looked at John as though he was an abstract work of art, amusingly confusing.
"Well I'll be damned - it *is* sesalt!"
"Exactly".
"But boy I wasn't asking for this sesalt, I was asking for that sesalt" John replied, as he pointed a finger at the fish man, who found it necessary to clarify.
"Sea salt. He means sea salt".
Marv blinked, and said "oh...I get it now".
"What'd you mean *you get it now*? You should've gotten it when I told ya!"
"How was I supposed to sir? You said sesalt not *sea* salt!"
"But that's how I say it!"
"No, no - he's in the right, you pronounce sea salt in the most mind boggling moronic way imaginable" the fishman interjected. Crossing his arms over his chest.
"You take that back".
"Or else what?"
"Or else I'm gonna lick ya".
The fishman blinked, and shuddered saying "ew, anyway your little salt circle isn't going to stop me".
John sighed before throwing the box away, and going "well I guess its time for plan B".
"What's plan B?" Marv asked, as John then pulled out the shotgun that'd been strapped covertly onto his back.
"Blast it" said John, as he aimed the barrel at the fishman who gulped thinking 'oh no'.
**The End.**
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jnqaotb
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jnq2d5j
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[WP] For 10 long years war has raged while the Galactic Committee held a tight leash on the humans; stating "We do things a certain way". Now, with the enemy closing in, the leash comes off.
|
*This isn't how war is meant to be waged.*
No, this is... dishonourable. Foul. *Deplorable*. Conduct that should be relegated to textbook examples, not the field! But we had no choice; the war with the Qo'neer Empire had raged for 10 long years with us on the struggling side. For every planet we took, they took a star system. For every ship destroyed, they claimed a flagship. Their technology was simply far too efficient and advanced for us - any direct engagement was a death sentence.
Throughout all of this, the humans - a young, upstart race from a backward corner of the Milky Way - eagerly asked the Galactic Committee to join the conflict. Some hushed rumours were spoken about their proclivity for war, their bloodlust, their blood-soaked history, and as such, they were denied. Theirs was not the way we fight. It was wrong. Yet in the end, we had no choice.
We let them off the leash.
And it was a mistake.
A blind man could see the efficiency of their tactics, yet no one could possibly fathom how they could stoop so low. To act with such disgrace. Such cowardice.
They wouldn't meet the enemy in the field of battle. They fought from the shadows, spreading misinformation and distrust. They happily twisted shipping manifests and marching orders. Entire fleets of the Qo'neer Empire were stopped dead in their tracks; not because the humans created an impenetrable bastion, but because through their actions, the fleet ran out of fuel and ended up drifting aimlessly through space.
Where a warrior of *any* merit would challenge the enemy commander to a duel, the humans would wait until they were asleep and quietly butcher them, like an *animal*. Their troops almost never fought their own battles; they ran away, scattering into nothing, only coming back with overwhelming numbers with the gall to demand surrender as if they accomplished *anything*.
The war, much to the disgrace of the Galactic Committee, halted within 2 years. The Qo'neer Empire simply weighed the value of their conquest against the economy and found that should they continue, entire systems under their control would starve as entire supply chains were disturbed.
Perhaps the most shameful thing, however, was how little the Qo'neer Empire *actually* suffered. The humans took every opportunity to preserve not just their own lives, but even those of the enemy. Millions of soldiers died on both sides when billions would have given laid their lives if the 'war' they waged had but a shred of virtue.
But the humans would happily sacrifice *every* ounce of honour if it means preserving even a *single* life.
|
"We do things a certain way." The Committee stated.
The Committee was made of every known species, each having an equal say in the actions of the Federation. Humanity, new to the stage, simply watched as the Committee sent out a war fleet to kill the bugs.
It failed.
Ten years and two months later, the Electorate of the Terra Firma Systems Union stood before the tens of thousands of species and laid out a proposal to the Committee.
"We are all well and familiar with Terra's First Contact War. We are aware of how we fought compared to how the galaxy fights. We are knowledgeable of the reasons why each action was taken, each violation of the Geneva Conventions. Hence why the TFSU Armed Forces have not yet joined the Committee's, and never will.
"Yet it has become clear that the Committee is failing to hold off the bugs. The front is holding, but is expanding to our flank and we can't hold that forever. When the bugs arrive at our borders, they will receive our treatment. You do things as efficiently as possible, we do things as ethically as possible, and we pay our costs out of pocket; problem solved."
There was a low murmur in the hall as representatives remembered the General of the TFSU Armed Forces besting the Grand Leader in melee combat, yet stepping down from taking the position.
"I do not care about a vote or if the Grand Leader themselves vetos this position. The TFSU will respond to this threat the way we see fit, and that's that."
The Electorate left the hall, followed by her entourage.
\-----
It took three weeks of fighting for the Bugs to officially send a diplomat to the front lines and sign a treaty with the TFSU. The other members of the Committee attempted to change their tactics, but it was too late, and their governments were forcefully destroyed.
The First Milky Way War is a testament to the fact that being ethical can indeed pay back. Now, any questions, class?
\-----
**A/N:**
**Effort level: mid**
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jwng63k
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jwmgck8
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[WP] You partner in crime has pulled a gun on you. "The truth is, the game was rigged from the start." You know that very well, mostly because you did all the rigging.
|
You'd think there'd be some honour among thieves, but he looked *far too* smug with that gun pointed at me. Too much for him not to be enjoying this.
"Alright, Miles," he said in a condescending manner. "I think it's time for us to go our separate ways. Specifically, me going towards luxury and comfort with the rest of our little gang, and you, well..." he cocked the hammer on the gun, "I don't much care."
I sighed. "So is this how it's gonna be?" I asked.
"You played your part in this little game well, but the truth is... it was rigged from the start. Frankly, I'm a little surprised you didn't see it coming."
"I did."
He tilted his head curiously. "That so?"
"Of course. Which is why I loaded your gun with blanks earlier today. I mean, did you really..." I smiled.
"Oh," he chuckled, "you mean *these* blanks?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pile of bullets - all marked with the tiny little indent on the side. The exact marking I used. "I checked them an hour ago. Like I said - you played your part well, but-"
"Is that the same gun from yesterday?" I continued. He frowned and nodded. "Right. So, the one with the firing pin filed down. Good."
Carefully, without turning the gun away, he inspected the inside and cursed quietly.
"I could've *sworn* that- bah. Doesn't matter. That's why I brought *this*," he said and pulled out a *second gun* from behind his back.
I did *not* see that coming.
"By the look on your face," he said calmly, "I assume you didn't find this one. So with that, I'll-"
"I was really hoping you wouldn't force me to do this, but..." I pulled out a small vial from my pocket. "This is-"
"The antidote to the poison you put in my coffee? Yeah. I know. It's why I switched the cups."
"Was that *after* I switched them *again*?"
"It was before I brewed a fresh new pot."
"With the-"
"Poisoned coffee beans?" he interrupted. "Of course not."
"I was going to see with the coffee pot I laced," I chortled. Finally, the ball was in my court and-
A laser appeared on my chest.
"I don't suppose you've met Laura?" he asked. "An excellent sniper, I must say. Now, if you'd be so-"
"Of course I know Laura," I replied and watched with satisfaction as the laser moved from my chest to his. "An excellent sniper indeed. And *very loyal*. I told her to aim at me first - a little bit of theatrics never hurt anyone."
A second laser appeared on my chest.
"Theatrical indeed," he nodded.
"It would appear we are at an impasse," I commended him.
"Not... exactly," he shrugged.
"*Hey, uh, Miles? We may, uh...*" the voice in my earpiece sounded quite concerned - never knew Laura to be nervous.
"Laura, I suspect, has just realized there is a man in her apartment with her wife. A man I am paying quite well."
"That man is an undercover FBI agent, I'll have you know. It took years for me to arrange for you to meet him."
"Oh, he flipped. You see, money..." he pointed at the pile of cash-filled bags at our feet, "money conquers all."
"I know he did. Why is why *I, and the rest of the Bureau*, set up this little operation," I revealed grandiosely and pulled out my ultimate trump card - my FBI badge.
"Wait," he stopped. "The **fuck**?!"
"And now it's time for justice- wait *what the fuck*?" I gasped as I saw him holster his second weapon and pull out something far more sinister - an NSA badge.
We stared at each other silently.
"*Hey, uh, Miles*?" Laura chirped in my ear. "*Is- is this something I should've been briefed on*? *No one back at the Agency mentioned*\-"
"Did you say *Agency*?!" I yelled at her. Looking up, I saw my partner-in-crime turned traitor turned NSA agent speak into his very own earpiece.
"*The fuck do you mean* ***DEA?!***"
|
"Woah, woah, woah!" I blurt out, raising my hands into the air as quickly and cleanly as I can. Fortunately I was only carrying a small box of valuables that won't break from simply being dropped. Or is that unfortunately? Perhaps if the box had broken, I could have used the spillings as a distraction or a trip hazard... heh, imagine that. Zack's reflexes are faster than that and I'd take a bullet through the skull. You can't do stuff like that as you see it done in the movies; the movies aren't real.
Zack smiles with a big grin. A big, cocky grin that I'd become so used to seeing as a good omen. This is the first time I have to register it as bad. The mental dissonance pains me. "Giving up already? Or are you thinking of a way out? I want to see you squirm."
I mentally begin to tune out the useless parts of his monologue - didn't I just say that the movies aren't real? - as I notice the other pair of our group of four step into the metaphorical frame, guns also drawn on me. To one side of Zack, his girlfriend, Laura, and to the other side, my boyfriend, who only ever told me his name. Allegedly, of course. Telling the person you love the identity you're trying to hide is a mistake made by the bad guys in the movies - and, of course, the movies aren't real.
"So here's what you're gonna do," Zack demands of me, finally getting to the point. "We're gonna load these back onto the truck, and you're going to eat our exhaust fumes as we drive off without you. Do that, and *maybe* I won't put a-"
His words are cut off as the crack of guns going off fills the air. I reflexively flinch away from the loudest sound, but that's hard to do properly when the sound is coming from every direction and you have tinnitus in one ear. Shame I had to flinch, too - I really wanted to see the look on Zack's face when this happened.
I step up to him and lean over his anguished lump of a form on the ground. By the looks of the bloodstains he's taken at least two bullets to his left leg and one to his right arm, and his gun is completely wrecked as well. Laura seems to have been more accurately hit, her upper arms are both completely red, even through her clothing. Spit from my direction just so happens to land on his face.
I look up at "My Boyfriend", who has dropped his gun and is now leaning back against the truck. I'm sure that if this were forty years ago, he's be smoking a cigarette, too. My gaze turns back to Zack. The wetness seems to have drawn his attention.
"Did I ever tell you that I was ex-military? Or that Leftenant Boyfriend over there isn't ex? Yeah. The game really was rigged from the start, you just tried to do something right before I would have done."
After all, it shouldn't come as a surprise that soldiers can actually aim. You cannot outrun bullets, especially not those fired by actual trained military personnel. As I've said, the movies aren't real.
Maybe my inside ops would make a nice movie, too. In two hundred years, anyway, assuming this story gets declassified at all. Hm. I'm going to need a completely new identity after this.
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j2q09kt
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j2o761r
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[WP] Your job description: 1) Sit in an empty room with a red button for 8 hours a day. 2) NEVER press the red button, no matter what happens. 3) Do not talk to anyone about the job. After many uneventful years, your phone rings and a stern, slightly panicked voice says: „Press the button. NOW!!“
|
I sat there, as I had been doing for 8 hours a day for as long as I can remember.
The button. It was ominous, and glowed a bright red.
Through these days, I wondered.
What did it do?
Launch nuclear missiles?
Open a door to another universe?
Nothing?
...
I didn't know. Nor did I want to find out.
My superiors spent what felt like hours telling me how important it was to not press the button.
I wasn't about to disobey that.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes. I pause for a moment, and answer the call.
"Hello?" I said.
Then I heard a voice, panickly asking me a question.
"PRESS THE BUTTON. NOW."
"Excuse me?"
"I SAID, PRESS THE BUTTON!"
"S-Sir, I-"
"You have NO time left. No more screwups. PRESS. THE BUTTON."
I looked to the button.
"Sir, how do you kno-"
"I am telling you. Stop wasting time and press. The godamn. Button."
"Sir, wh-why should I do that, sir?"
"*Everything* depends on it. Your LIFE depends on your ability to press it."
This stranger was starting to get on my nerves. I got up from my chair and paced around the room.
"Sir, I'm gonna n-need you to-"
"No, Johnathan! The job was to PRESS THE BUTTON!"
My name wasn't Johnathan.
"That is *not* my job, nor is that my name! Is it possible you have a wrong num-?"
Then I realised.
The call wasn't meant for me.
The "job" wasn't *my* job.
The door was open.
Someone had broke through, and pressed the button.
|
“I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to.”
“The fate of the world is at stake!” The voice sounds honest enough, but then I’m a terrible judge of character. Maybe I can get some information out of this guy.
“Then give me your badge number.”
“Nine eight five three six eight eleven decka one!” came the anxious response.
“Security clearance?”
“Alpha alpha beta!”
“The operations unique forty-two and a half digit alphanumeric identification code?”
“D R G Z 2 H 5— wait… forty-two and a half?” The voice said. “JUST PUSH THE [redacted] BUTTON!”
“Okay…”
“HURRY UP IN— Aah! you pushed it!”
***
I may come back in add some more later. For now check out some of my [other stories](https://www.reddit.com/user/Matthew-IP-7/comments/ww45tq/a_list_of_all_the_stories_ive_written_that_can_be/).
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jkxbz3p
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jkwt2qz
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[WP] You have been kidnapped by a human trafficking ring, & it’s unlikely that the authorities can recover you at this point. Unfortunately for your kidnappers, your SO is a member of the Greek pantheon.
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Chains clanking, manacles restraining my hands against the back wall. My eyes are dark, covered by a blindfold, but I know my kidnappers are standing nearby, guarding me. I want to run, want to get away, but I know it's impossible. Even if I could get free from these manacles, I wouldn’t make it very far without getting kidnapped again. I’ll admit, I hated them. I hated these people who were keeping me and the others in captivity. Who knows how many others were ripped from their lives by their hands. Here I was SUPPOSED to be on vacation in Greece, and here I was SUPPOSED to be meeting my SO here, but no. I was stolen in broad daylight on a crowded street by a giant group of goons in all-black outfits, bound, gagged, blindfolded, and taken somewhere where not even the local authorities could find me.
I struggle some more until I feel a hard slap across my cheek. I hear a masculine voice say something in Greek. I don’t speak Greek very well, but I can understand the meaning well enough. “Stop struggling or things will become much worse for you.” he seems to say. My cheek feels like someone lit it on fire, but I don’t cry out. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me. I whip around and spit as close to his face as I can figure. I brace myself for another slap, but instead, all I hear is a grunt that might’ve been a chuckle. “This one has some guts. She’ll make someone a nice wife.” Again, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction, but inside, my stomach ties itself into knots. The sheer audacity of this man, basically saying he’s going to make me marry someone I don’t know, selling me into a relationship with someone who probably would only want my body. However, as soon as I hear him turn away, I smile to myself, because I know something they don’t know.
I dip my head down, my chin touching my chest, and whisper to myself “My love, if you can hear me, like you told me you could, please rescue me from my captors. I cannot do this without you, my love.” As soon as these words leave my lips, I feel a peaceful calm wash over me. After what feels like hours, but what might’ve only been a few seconds to a few minutes, I start hearing a commotion that ends abruptly; each captor starts asking who’s coming, but is abruptly cut off, and I hear people falling to the floor. I smile to myself, knowing my SO is coming to rescue me. Soon enough, I feel a gentle touch of warm fingers on my cheek.
“My darling, what have they done to you?” I hear his voice, a soothing whisper in my ear, as his cool fingers untangle the knot of my blindfold. I blink in the sudden light, and soon, my SO appears in front of me. His youthful face, pale as the moon, complemented by hair as blue as the midnight sky encircled by a crown of bright red flowers. Poppies, one of his sacred symbols. His eyes, deep blue like the night sky, look at me through heavy lids, as if he just woke up from a nap. He is dressed in a deep blue chiton tunic, with silver accents, and silver sandals, and from his back stretch large, feathered wings, also a deep blue, like the midnight sky, and streaked through with silver, like the stars. He smiles at me, and gives me a gentle hug. “I apologize for my lateness, my love.” As he hugs me, I look around at my captors, and they’re all lying on the floor in various positions, completely unconscious.
“What did you do to them?” I ask him. “You didn’t…I mean, they aren’t…”
He pulls away, and gives me a look that’s somewhere between amusement and pity. “No, my love, they aren’t. Thanatos and I may be twins, but it is he that deals with death.” He shakes his head with a gentle chuckle. “No, no, my love, they are merely asleep. They will wake up, eventually, after my son, Morpheus, is finished weaving them a mutual dream showing them the error of their ways.” He gestures to a younger man, fluttering above my former captors in a purple chiton. His eyes are closed in concentration as glittering threads flow from his body and weave themselves into dream tapestries above each unconscious man's head.
Hypnos turns back to me again. “Shall we leave my son to his work, my love?” I turn back to him, and smile. He takes me in his arms, sweeping me off my feet, spreads his night-like wings, and we soar off into the bright blue sky.
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Aphrodite is perfect in form, without blemish. Every detail of her aesthetic is locked into place, seemingly without error. I am hers.
I met her on Craigslist. She put out an ad in the personals saying she was running a dating school. Having struggled with that, I signed up. I was surprised when the first class met and I was the only one there. She instructed me anyways, giving me innumerable tips to improve my appearance, confidence, presentation, and communication skills. As the classes went on, it became clearer that she wanted me to want her. She asked me what I wanted in a person, and I said I wanted one as beautiful as she was. She seemed pleased with this, and afterward, she told me that she wanted me to go on a date with her.
During our first date, I asked her where the name Aphrodite came from, and she told me that she was the Greek Goddess Aphrodite. I almost spit out my pasta, before recalling that would be the type of bad etiquette that she abhorred. I just smiled, and asked, "How?" She told me that she'd always existed, since the dawn of time, and that only a lucky few ever got to meet her. I asked her why she didn't already have a date or a significant other, and she said she had many throughout history but was currently single. I couldn't help but say that this seemed suspicious, a dating school instructor being single, but she just smiled and told me to feel grateful for being lucky.
We went on a few dates. On the last one, she kissed me. It was the most perfectly blissful thing I'd ever experienced. I started to dread right away that I'd lose her. She was Aphrodite, and she could have whomever she wanted. I was rather plain and boring, why would she want me?
I didn't have long to fret over this, for the day after the kiss I was ambushed by five men dressed in black. I thought I had done something wrong. I tried to think of all the reasons why they would kidnap me. I plead my innocence and screamed that I knew Aphrodite and that she had special powers. They put a bag over my head and forced me into what felt like a van. We drove forever, then flew, and when I got off the plane I could feel desert heat and sand. In tears, I prayed for Aphrodite, my beloved, to save me.
The men took me down into a chamber, where they took the bag off my head. I was surprised to see many other people there, heads bowed. I was even more surprised to see Aphrodite, standing up on a stage. I tried to scream for her, but the men kicked and slapped me until I kept quiet.
I felt pain at having been tricked, and agony at seeing my lover ignore me, but I understand now. She spoke on the stage, telling us that this was the final step of dating school. We all wanted her, and to have her, we must prove above all else that we have mastered the techniques taught in the class. With time, she said, our appearance, presentation, and communication skills could be *better*. Only the one with the *best* skills would have her hand.
It seemed absurd, stupid. There were dozens of other people. I stood no chance against them, surely some were better than me. I told her that during my first 1-1 on with her, and she told me that was the very thinking that had led me to dating school in the first place. I hadn't talked to people with the assumption that I wasn't good enough for them, but in reality, nobody was better than anyone else. I had to assume that I was the best, and then I would act like it. Only then would I stand a chance.
She was absolutely right. Sometimes I doubt, but she always corrects me.
In glory to Aphrodite, may your hand be mine.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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lsyadwf
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lsy35ej
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[WP] When the villain asked you how you didn't go insane from the constant evil thoughts they were whispering in the back of you mind, you were not sure how to explain that this is your normal state of mind and you didn't even notice anything had changed.
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There’s this thing people do when they think they’re being clever. A kind of tick. A twitch at the corner of their lip, a tightening of the eye, like they’re waiting to see if you’ll react, if you’ll flinch, if you’ll fold under what they think is a cleverness that’ll flatten you. Like a blade so sharp you don’t know you’ve been cut until you’re bleeding out. But that’s the thing, isn't it? They’re all always waiting for you to bleed. But I don’t bleed. I just sit there, dry, cracked at the edges, watching them wonder why.
The villain has this same look. All hunched over, waiting for me to collapse. Expecting my mind to fold in on itself, sink down deep in the dark, because he’s been *whispering* for hours. Must think himself a real maestro of misery. Maybe he’s used to breaking folk, spinning madness like a spider, delicate, precise. And to him, I must be the fly. A real sweet, soft, stupid thing tangled in the sticky strings of his words.
He asks me how I haven’t gone mad yet. He sounds so sure, like it’s supposed to be a punchline, and he’s waiting for me to crumple at the weight of his question. Like I’m some vase on the shelf, filled to the brim with thoughts I’ve never had, and it’ll only take one good whisper for me to spill all over the floor.
But, see, the thing about being a vase is I’ve been cracked long before his whispers found their way into my head. Long before I even had a name to call my own. I’ve been leaking since the day I was set on the shelf. He don’t know it, though. He don’t see me like that. I’m whole in his mind. A person with a fixed beginning and a fixed end, and the space in between is supposed to belong to him now. He thinks his voice is carving something new into me. But I’ve been carving myself long before I knew what a villain was. There’s nothing new about hearing a voice telling me I ain’t right.
"How haven’t you gone mad?” he says again, slower this time, like maybe I haven't been listening. But I have. I just don’t care.
I laugh because it’s all I can do. And he waits, confused. He’s not used to being laughed at, I can tell. I want to tell him there’s nothing he can say that I haven’t already thought. Nothing he can suggest that isn’t already a daily, hourly routine for me. I want to say, *Oh, honey, you thought you were special?* But that’d be cruel, and I don’t think he knows how to handle someone else being cruel, not like this. It’s supposed to be his game. He’s supposed to win.
I look him dead in the eyes, and I think he’s waiting for me to explain myself. So I do, but not in the way he wants.
“I didn’t notice,” I say. And he doesn’t like that. I can tell by the way his face twitches.
“What?”
“I didn’t notice anything changed.” I shrug, because what else is there to do? The whispers, the doubt, the endless noise in the back of my head? That’s my baseline. That’s the rhythm I’ve been marching to since the day I learned how to put one foot in front of the other. All you did was add to the symphony, pal.
He stands up now, paces, agitated. He’s unraveling. He didn’t plan for this, didn’t think his villainous monologue would bounce off me like rain. Thought it would seep in, soak me through, make me pliable. But no, I’m just standing here, dry as a desert, watching him come undone.
“I’ve been speaking to you,” he says, almost frantic now. “For days.”
I nod, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah. And?”
His mouth opens and closes, like he’s choking on a response. And I wonder if this is the first time in his long, villainous career that he’s truly felt powerless. Like maybe all those other people weren’t tough at all—they just didn’t know the trick to surviving. Didn’t know you could live your whole life broken and never feel a thing.
“I don’t—” he tries again, but I’m already halfway out the door. Because I don’t need to hear the rest of his sentence. Don’t need to explain myself any further.
What he doesn’t know, what he could never understand, is that sometimes the villain is just a background hum, a low static. The kind of noise you forget is even there, until someone points it out and you have to laugh, because it’s been there the whole time. And you were never listening.
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Gryfus laughed as the villainous Renn finished their query.
Renn, try though they might, could not hide the feeling of being unnerved rapidly spreading across their face.
Gryfus was amused at how the tables had seemed to turn after Renn's psychic onslaught. The disturbing images that raced through his head gave him some pause at first, attempting to filter out the external noise against the grinding, shuddering thoughts he normally had occupying his head. This wasn't the first time a foe had projected an attack that gnashed at his consciousness like a blood-starved rat, but, he had to admit, it was one of the most impressive.
*"worlds in ruin... unloved... forgotten..."*
*"sun bleached bones under an eternally new moon... screams of strangers and their agony... a symphony of your failures..."*
Gryfus pushed these thoughts aside as easily as a cat knocks a cup from a table. That part almost felt more like poetry than something that would distract him from his goal of liberating Renn's prized hostage: The Mayor of Unduval's daughter, Yana.
*"you seek reward? praise? perhaps. justice? righteousness? perhaps not."*
*"you are no hero. not even in your own story. your life exists to cause burden."*
These whispers were meant, surely, to induce a sense of self-doubt. Gryfus had felt the hissing sensation, the burning echo, of these words stinging around the base of his skull, trying to find purchase. They clawed, hoping to pull at a thread that would unravel him, make him question why he does this line of work.
Renn had misread one thing, though.
Gryfus was no hero.
Gryfus did indeed aim to free Yana from Renn's captivity. But not to return her to the mayor. She was to be a bargaining chip in a much larger conflict. When he finally brought her to Prince Valsius of Thoub, Unduval would raise their allies and burn Thoub to the ground. Thoub's allies would bring their sorcerous might to bear. Kingdoms would fall, ashes would remain.
Make no mistake, Renn was a heinous one. all right. He had take Yana in the night, leaving the Mayor with an impossible to pay ransom. But the Mayor could afford one mercenary and a few dozen men. The same few dozen men who lay sprawled and screaming, or at least whimpering, around the circular stone chamber in which Gryfus now stared his opponent down in. But Gryfus was much worse.
"ANSWER ME, MERCENARY!!!", Renn screeched, breaking Gryfus' contemplation.
*"what is it you seek? why does your mind not reel at my caress? what are you?"*
Gryphus tilted his head, smirked, and spoke to Renn.
"You know exactly what I am. Your powers originated from somewhere, some long forgotten source. And so do mine."
"What am I? That's hard to say. Maybe I'll show you, and you tell me."
Gryfus' eyes flashed a deep violet, and Renn collapsed to the cool stone floor, clawing at their face. The fresh blood from their newly self-inflicted wounds trickled like spilled cider upon the surface of the room, and their screams spewed forth, wildly distorting in pitch and timbre. Visions of impossible, consuming horror flooded Renn's mind. As their screams grew hoarse and their breath shallow, Gryfus approached and knelt by their side.
"Now, pretender... what am I?"
Renn could not speak, but mustered their scant remaining life into one last whisper.
*"if y-y-you knew... de... des-des-... o... lat-lation... w-would be... befall... cre-crea... creation..."*
Renn's body was limp and already cold to the touch. There would be more wizards, with more knowledge of the dark than them. No matter the cost to this world, or any world he touched, Gryfus would have his answer someday.
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j5pkljp
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j5ph2hp
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[WP] You wake up in a chair in a padded cell. Someone else sits across from you. A voice from a speaker in the ceiling says, "One of you is a natural person. One of you is artificial. Determine which is which. The real person gets to go free." You can't remember anything before this room.
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As I sat up straight, I feel something in my neck click and snap. Something metallic. The soft whir of servoes can be heard as I raise a hand to my head to stroke my hair.
*Fuck.* *I'm the robot.*
I'm about to resign myself to my fate when I see something about my counterpart in the chair across from me. Maybe it's just a twitch, or a flash of fear in their eyes, or the way the hair on the back of their hands rose. But it was then that I realized that they were afraid too.
*They think they're the fake. They don't know they're the real one. I can use this.*
"All right," I say, feeling the voice box in my throat vibrate in response. "First things first. What's the first thing you remember?"
The Other Guy flinches. *They don't remember shit*. "I remember my mother's kitchen," he says. "She's standing at the sink, washing dishes. She's humming a song. I'm four years old. You?"
"I'm five years old," I lie. "I'm playing in my grandparent's backyard. There's a butterfly caught in a spiderweb. I try to free it, but it's stuck. I tear the spiderweb trying to get it loose, but it can't fly away, and the ants tear it to pieces." *Easy now. A good lie should be a simple one.*
He nods nervously in reply. "All right, so whoever created the fake has implanted artificial memories," he says. "We can't use our memories as a gauge."
*You just think we've had artificial memories implanted. Actually, they erased the real one's memories, and we're both lying out our asses.*
"Punch me," The Other Guy says.
"What?"
"Punch me in the nose as hard as you can," they say. "Let's see if I bleed."
It's a real effort to regulate my strength to deliver a punch to the nose hard enough to draw blood but not kill the other guy: artificial myomers and all. The Other Guy flinches and shouts in pain. He touches his nose tenderly. "Fuck, that hurts!" he shouts.
His nose is bleeding. Why wouldn't it? He's the real one, after all.
"All right, your turn," I say. "Hit me."
He does. I divert internal cooling fluid to my nostrils and vent a small amount as I rolled with the punch, recoiling in simulated pain. I pray that whoever made me thought of this as I reach up a hand to my nose. The fluid is dark red, viscous. A close enough analogue to blood. I show him my red fingertips, hoping he won't notice the metallic smell in the air.
"All right," The Other Guy said. "So we both bleed. What next?"
"Spit," I say. "Let's see if we both make saliva."
I'll spare you the gory details of the next half hour. Suffice to say, The Other Guy and I go through every single bodily function we can think of. The padded room stinks to hell by the time we're done. We're both naked, sweaty (my sweat happens to be an artificial joint-lubricating fluid, but he doesn't know that), and humiliated. But I've managed to pass every test we can think of.
I can see the doubt turn to fear in his eyes. It's time to play my hand.
"Look," I say. "We're not going to figure this out from physical inspection. Whoever made the fake one did a great job of making sure they wouldn't be caught out. So let's go back to memories. Do you remember what song your mom was singing when she was cooking pasta in your first memory?"
"Yeah," The Other Guy says. "It was 'Frere Jacques.'" He confidently starts to sing that old children's folk song.
"And what kind of pasta was she cooking?"
"Spaghetti," they say. "She made the best spaghetti and meatballs."
*Trap triggered.* "You're the fake," I say.
"What?"
"You're lying about your first memory," I say. "You claimed before it was of your mom washing dishes in the kitchen. . . not cooking pasta. Which means I'm the real one and get to go free."
The other guy screams at me and explodes into a shower of gore. Tendrils and tentacles lash out at me as his broken eyeball twitches wildly, bloodshot veins throbbing with every heartbeat. ***"I'm nOt gOing BACK!"*** he screams. ***"I'LL KILL YOU BEFORE I GO BACK TO THAT LAB!"***
I scream too. My arm servoes slide open, and the blades lash out, cutting through his throbbing tendrils. I see acid blood splash forth from his wounds, etching away at the artificial skin on my face, just before the world goes black.
\-----
>**INFILTRATION TEST #209**
>
>SUBJECT 1: OPHIDIOID SHAPESHIFTER
>
>SUBJECT 2: TECHNOSWARM GESTALT
>
>SPECIAL TEST PARAMETERS: SLEEPER PERSONALITY NOT IMPLANTED TO PREVENT EMPATHY RESPONSE WITH NATIVE LIFEFORMS (SEE INFILTRATION TEST #208).
>
>RESULT: MUTUAL DESTRUCTION OF BOTH SUBJECTS
>
>RECOMMENDATION: REPEAT TEST. REPORT DELAY OF SOL-3 INFILTRATION TO ALLIANCE COUNCIL.
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I look over to the man sitting across from me. Nothing is memorable or stands out. I still recall basic knowledge and understanding of concepts, but no memories of my past. I know my name is Michael. Michael… Stevens? I think? I try to recall my past, but it’s totally blank, wiped clean. The concept of being a child and growing older to learn from school and getting a job and such is still present, but not MY childhood or MY job. I look around, a padded white cell with no visible exit or entrance, 2 chairs, 2 men. I look down at myself and quickly assess for any physical problems.
A somewhat metallic voice from above speaks out, “One of you is a natural person. One of you is artificial. Determine which is which. The real person gets to go free.”
I look across from me and stare at the concerned looking man. “Do you have any memories of your past?” I ask him blatantly. He stares back at me, seemingly reluctant to speak, and shakes his head. “I do have memories of my past,” I lied, “my name is Michael Stevens, I was born in 1996 and lived with my single mother after my dad died in a car accident. We struggled each day to survive until a generous man brought me and my mother in. My stepdad is the nicest man I’ve ever met.” I start to cry my crocodile tears that I didn’t know I was capable of. “It’d shatter my mother’s heart if she found out I was gone from her life. Please, you have to be the artificial person in this situation. Agree with me, please, I’ll be set free and you won’t die or anything, they will simply reuse you for the next event I’m sure of it.”
The man across from me seems to agree with me but still refuses to speak a word, presumably out of fear or simple introversion. I smile at him as a tear streams down my cheek. I look up towards where the voice emitted previously, “You hear me you bastards! I’m the real human here! Come get me out of here!” A moment passes. A strangely long moment. Eventually the intercom crackles to life once more, “Is this your final answer?”
“No it is not!” I answer quickly and adamantly.
“What makes you reconsider?” They ask, trying to be monotone, but I can sense the little bit of surprise in their voice.
“Your own response. You would only wait to respond if you were surprised with something about the situation. If I were to guess, that means I was brutally wrong, but something about my actions surprised you. Maybe it was the fact that I lied. Maybe it was the fact I cried. But that pause can only mean I am wrong. Which means one thing. I am the artificial person and the confused man before me is the natural person! I meant what I spoke. If I am the artificial person, you wouldn’t kill me and I would simply be reset and reused again and the natural person would be set free. Set this man free!” I yelled up to the system above.
Another strangely long pause, about the same as the last one. “Is that your final deci-“
“STOP!” The man that sat across from me finally spoke aloud. “You can’t be the robot in this situation! Your emotions are too real for that to be true.” I smile at his words. “I have to be the robot as I don’t feel anything, I don’t feel any emotions whatsoever. Not until you declared you were the robot. I finally felt something was wrong then. Something stirred up in me that told me you had to be wrong. It’s the only logical conclusion!”
I smile at him and walk over to him. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Now I know that you’re the natural person 100% Thank you for speaking finally. You were the final nail in the coffin.” His confused expression only widened my smile. I look up above. “I am the artificial person, and this man is the natural person. That is our final decision.”
“How can you say for sure?” The man looked up at me with a pained look.
The intercom confirmed: “7 minutes, 28 seconds. Sir, this is a new record.”
I stare at the man before me. “Who said anything about being a robot?”
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j4sthcq
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j4rt3qx
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[WP] When humanity enters the galactic stage we find that our history of violence is quite unusual, but not because we wreaked unimaginable death and destruction upon each other, but rather because we stopped eventually.
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The Etren grinned at me. It was unsettling. That was a really scary set of teeth. "How reliable are those histories really?"
I stopped and actually considered the question carefully. The diplomatic orientation package had emphasized that the Etren were generally easy to get along with, but that one should always put some thought into what one said.. and never, ever lie to them. They really didn't like it, and they were scary good at spotting it. I had a cargohold of art to unload.. and while there were other dealers here, she was supposed to be the best in town.
"anything after the printing press will be quite accurate in broad outline. Usually pushing a point of view, but the facts will be quite solid."
She flexed her hands, inspecting her claws. They were scarier. It wasn't a threat display. This was a grooming habit, if I remembered right. Just fidgeting while thinking. But gods. She was big. She was blatantly a pure carnivore. I told my lizard brain to go sit in a corner. The Ethren were liked by about everyone because they were trustworthy and peaceful. Not harmless. Picking a fight with one was considered, legally, "Suicide" in most jurisdictions.. but unprovoked violence ? Not really a thing they did.
"That is quite something. I studied civilizational development a few centuries ago. Lots of societies with ritualized contests of violence. The Anka have great big battles with spear wall formations every decade or so, and they mastered zero point energy so long ago that the exact date is a matter of scholarly dispute, and of course, many societies never had large scale violence at all.. but usually, societies that.. Apply science to war..
Well, we don't actually know that much about them, because we only find the ruins. How did you manage to stop? I'm afraid I've been too buzy to keep up with the literature"
"..... Well, the text-book answer would be that the destruction manifestly got too expensive. That's not all of it. We knew that at least a century before the last war. The second piece is held to be diagnostics. We got good tests for several forms of mental disorder endemic to us and it became common place to require a clean bill of health to be in politics. It turns out, sane humans don't want to pay the butchers bill."
She cocked her head at me.. "Hmm. You believe that to be true, but you never studied it?"
And I felt like I was made of glass. This was also in the orientation package. Dealing with the Fang of Commerce was uncomfortable for many, many humans. Unimpeachable reputation for fair dealing.. and cold readers every one of them.
It was fine. I had good provenances for the entire cargo. Provenances I had personally vetted. I didn't have to lie to her. This should be an easy sell.
"Yes. Not a field that has caught my interest to date. Do you want to see my wares?"
She rose. Smiled again.. but carefully kept the fangs covered. Quick learner. "But of course."
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When humanity enters the galactic stage, we find that our history of violence is quite unusual, but not because we wreaked unimaginable death and destruction upon each other, but rather because we stopped eventually.
Often times people ask, "why do bad things happen"? Pain and suffering often times are just words that indicate the need to survive. We become smarter in order to survive; we learned better ways to fend of predators, we also became better predators in order to provide food for ourselves and our families. We needed warmth and security, so we cultivated fire, utilized skins as clothing, and built shelters. Had others not also became smarter this would have been enough. However, as we grew so did the threats. Predators, pry and other humans also became smarter, so the cycle of our evolution continued. Stronger weapons, better shelters, warmer clothing, and the development of reliable food sources where all part of the evolution of man. During the course of this process, we enslaved and tamed lesser species to fulfil are unyielding need to survive, until eventual it was not enough just to survive but instead, we needed to thrive.
So, the answer to the question why bad things happen is not that of some all-powerful deity demands that we suffer. It is simply that we suffer so we can grow, and without suffering in life we would have deuterated as a species. Look at the dodo bird, once a mighty beast but due to an abundance of food and limited dangers in their nature habitat they devolved into something no better than a giant chicken and were eventually wiped out when a legitimate threat did arrive in the form of humans.
Take this rudimentary cycle, of suffering and growth and imagine at what level an intergalactic species would have had to endure in order to evolve into something powerful enough to have mastered space travel? We didn't seek the stars just to learn, we sought the stars to find our next challenge and in order to secure our own survival beyond the confines and restrictions of our own planet. Without this goal in mind, we would have become comfortable, and ignorant in our own little world until a bigger beast came to pluck us out of our existence just like the fabled dodo bird.
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jtziv71
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jtzimln
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[WP] You used to be the scourge of kingdoms, the reaper of heroes and the mere mention of your name scared even the toughest of them. But today no one remembers you and you are fine with that. You have lived in peace ever since until one day a stranger approaches you and calls you by your true name.
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"Fluffles! The Devourer of Gods! I have come for you!" A powerful voice rang out through the deep dark caverns. A soft undertone sounded reminding me many female adventurers who came to face me. How long has it been that I've slumbered and rested. How long have I been alone on this continent that even the gods did not visit? A millennia? Two?
A hiss escaped my lips as I cast a spell activating the hundreds of thousands of runes and defenses that lined my cavern. I started to stretch and yawn. I shrugged off the dust that settled on my frame as I got up and slithered out of the chamber I slept in. I pressed myself against the side of the walls and against sharp rocks letting them pull and peel away the dead shedding skin from my frame. The wings the hardest thing to slither through, before getting them out. I ended just short of my bathing area. A massive underwater lake. I checked the measure of a stalagtite and just gave a soft chuckle. "Sixty or so years for that last nap. I guess I am a bit peckish." A blast of flames from my mouth warmed the lake up and I used it to clean my body, feathery wings and peel away the last of my old skin.
"How is that one doing?" I mutter to myself and feel for the traps. She had already bypassed nearly a hundred traps and was in the fourth floor of the full mountain complex. "She's making good time for a solo adventurer. Maybe a demigod? Wouldn't be a god no one is stupid enough to bother me after the last war... I think. Maybe a new god?" I just shrug off the idea and dive into the deep part of the lake.
Casting invisibility I breech the surface of the water far from the main opening of my mountain. I see a large airship parked not too far from the entrance with tiny humans milling about. Banners and insignia I didn't recognize showed itself off. I got as close as I could without disturbing the rock and just observe for a few minutes. Some merchant group was leading this thing apparently and responsible for delivering the woman. Paid to do it instead of responsible for her. Said she'd be back. Hah!
I found the whole idea laughable. Someone going deep into my domain and expecting to come out alive? I had to leave before my laughter gave myself away. I hunted in the deep valleys of my continent and even out on the open plains. A number of large elk and deer was a perfect light snack. A lone horned beast a main course. And for desert, there so happened to be a roc nest nearby. I pilfered an egg leaving the other behind for later, maybe.
Hours passed and as I was just enjoying the feel of pure sun on my scales, I felt an alarm go off. The woman had entered the vault. Seriously? The first one in ages to ever reach my cavern and she makes it to the vault? A full two thirds of the way to my arena and domain? Almost at my own resting chamber? The thought raced in my mind on if I should even grace her with my presence or wait till she leaves? I idly just chewed on the tip of my tail, an old tick I never quite got over. "Fine, I'll meet her if she so wishes."
I had to race to make it back. Crossing a whole empty continent and returning through the lake passage. Finally, came to my arena. A large open space that was perfect for facing me. It had small solid walls that any smaller being could hide in. I carved and created it with perfection to give myself the biggest challenge. I wanted to have a good fight. I coiled around a large pillar near the back hidden away in shadows and just waited.
The woman finally entered. She, a brazen tall figure with fiery red hair and polished white armor. She almost looked like a holy knight as she wore a long flowing cloak. Not even a tear in it or singe. She bypassed all of my traps. Fascinating. First one to make it to me unharmed it seemed. A loud hiss from my lips and the hundreds of large crystal around the arena lit up glowing and shining in all areas. She had to hide her eyes a moment to adjust, and when she looked back she saw me.
I was a glorious serpent that sat hundreds of meters long and with massive wings and thousands of feathers. I was said to have been the most beautiful and destructive force this world has ever seen. A sight of wonder and terror. "I am Fluffles the Devourer of Gods! Who dared to enter my domain?" I said with a soft hiss looking down at the woman.
"I am Victoria White." She pulled a pouch out from under her cloak and started to open it. "On Behalf of the united kingdoms and the gods at large. I've been authorized to audit you. I am with the Internal Revenue Service of Heaven."
"The IRSH?!" Oh I'm in big trouble now. How much did I owe in back taxes? How long have I been asleep and alone? Did they even change the divine tax laws? "Ho-" My voice cracked. I coughed to clear it a bit. "How can I help you? I've been asleep for quite some time. I'll do what I can to make this go easy."
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##Human Nature
The old woman hobbled to the chess board in the middle of the park. The other tables were occupied with games, and she decided to wait. Eventually, someone would come, and they would grant her a game.
A confident young man walked towards her. She knew his type well. He thought she was merely a warm-up, an easy victory. He would be startled by her skill and grow to doubt his own knowledge. When the old woman won, his would walk away thinking it was a fluke.
"Hello Duena." The man sat down. Duena leaned back in her chair careful to avoid showing her surprise. She tilted her head at the man trying to figure out who he was.
"Have we met before?" She attempted to keep her guise as a sweet old woman.
"A long time ago. You may call me Liam. Is it alright if I go first? You historically came much later," he said.
"Did we meet at the grocery store two weeks ago?" Duena asked as she made her own move.
"We met at the market a long time ago. Rather, I saw you at the market. That was when few saw your face, goddess of destruction," Liam said.
"I never understood why I was singled out as a terror. The other death gods never acquired my reputation."
"Few enjoyed it as much as you."
"I never enjoyed it." Duena raised a hand and knocked over the king by accident. "The philosophers wrote me as gleeful, but I was merely fulfilling a role. You kill one person, and you are somber. I destroy civilizations, and I'm a raging monster."
"During the flood, I heard you laugh," Liam replied.
"Which flood? There have been so many?" Duena asked. The rain fell around them. "Ah, a touch dramatic are we?"
"You don't live as long as I do without fantasizing about revenge," Liam said.
"I suppose that's true. Many have tried to stop me, but they cannot. Let's keep playing," Duena said. Their game continued while everyone else went home. Duena was surprised to find herself losing. She attempted to sense the man's true nature.
"The other gods hated me for destroying their worshippers," Duena said.
"So I've heard."
"You never interacted with them?"
"Indirectly." Liam put her in check. Duena moved out and found her path to victory limited.
"You mentioned a flood. How long ago was this?" Duena said.
"Perhaps it was your first disaster. I'm not sure. Either way, my true language is unrecognizable to humans," Liam said.
"That's not difficult. They forget how they spoke two hundred years ago."
"You hate humans don't you," Liam asked. He moved his bishop. Duena stared at the board. She was three moves from checkmate, and there was no avoiding it.
"No, I don't. I told you that I'm necessary."
"I suppose you were necessary to create me."
"And what are you?"
"You were a war goddess, our war goddess until you realized the destructive force of nature. You harnessed it's power to destroy everything in your path. On your first flood, I was the only survivor. It was a sad and lonely life, but I pressed onward. I taught the rest of humanity to live and thrive. I went nameless though; I didn't brag like you." Liam moved his rook.
"I never bragged. If I bragged, would they forget who I was?"
"That was my doing. They turned me into a deity. I draw my strength their persistence. I suppose I should thank you. Every tragedy that you create adds to my power." Liam moved the queen. "Check mate."
Duena tossed the board off the table. "Why have you come here? Why not wait until later then?"
"Because I love the humans unlike you, I know your next plan. You've grown bored and want to move on. You will fail, but your disaster is to great that I cannot allow you to do so," Liam said.
"My plans have already been set into motion," Duena said.
"You didn't take into account for that." Liam pointed at the chains surrounding her.
"No one has achieved such a spell on me. Are you going to kill me?" Duena asked.
"You're too powerful, and you're correct. You are necessary." Liam stood up. "You're just trapped until I clean up your mess. Enjoy watching yourself fail." Duena spat at his feet.
"I never fail because the humans always fail."
"That's where you're wrong. The humans frequently fail, but they find ways to succeed." Liam walked away from the old woman.
---
r/AstroRideWrites
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jbqp6bf
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jbq2ndd
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[WP] You are a demon and you have been summoned by a mortal. He announced that he has brought you a sacrifice. Except it's the same teenaged girl that people have tried to sacrifice to you 5 times already
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Not this again. Seriously, not this again
\- "Mortal! Leave her be, and I'll leave and spare your soul. Continue this ritual, and **you** will be the sacrifice."
\- But Master..."
\- "**I have spoken!**" - thunderstorms manifest outside. How I hate the mortal realm, where a mere demon anger can manifest natural disasters. The girl, laying down, opens a single eye, then closes it again. The stupid summoner seems confused, but cuts her ropes, and claps his hands to "wake her up" - the poor fool doesn't know he has been fooled.
\- "*Where am I?*" - the girl asks, faking being scared. I saw soap operas with better acting.
\- "Ok, let's drop the acts, shall we? Mortal, you never wanted anything, right? And you, girl... Samantha, I guess? What gives? It's the sixth time, and I'm loosing patience. You..." - but then, I see. Her eyes, there's something... familiar... - "wait a little.... you're not..."
\- "Yes, sorry, ever since I got my wishes delivered I could not take my eyes of you! Please, be mine! I know I sold my soul to you, but I can't wait that much! I know I wished to outlive my enemies, but I never though I would be so madly in love with..."
No.... this cannot be!
We, Demons, are unable to offer wishes that truly satisfy anyone. A prank from God, maybe? Anyway, anytime we grant something, there is a catch. We sometimes get to decide, other times, it is decided for us.
I liked her wish: "I want to outlive my enemies". I decided for her that she'll always have at least one enemy, so she'll live forever, since the death of all life on Earth. I decided that, even if there were only insects in the world, the insects would be her enemy somehow - getting her food, sucking her blood, whatever annoys her. Imagine being an eternal being haunted by mosquitoes? Every night, no mater what you do, a mosquito will find a way to disturb your slumber...
But it seems that this wasn't sufficient. She... fell madly in love. With me. And she won't die for at least 5 billions years...
... and she'll try to get into my pants.... for all these years ...
Maybe I can summon an Angel, somehow? Hopefully they know how to undo wishes...
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As I materialize in the summoning circle, I see a young man standing before me, holding a struggling teenage girl by the arm. He greets me with a smug expression and announces that he has brought me a sacrifice.
I look at the girl and then at the summoner, unimpressed. "Oh great, another one. You know, I'm starting to feel like I'm the only demon in hell who doesn't have a teenage girl on their sacrifice list."
The summoner looks taken aback. "But isn't that what you demons like? Sacrifices?"
I roll my eyes. "No, we don't like sacrifices. It's a common misconception. We much prefer pizza and beer, but you mortals never seem to get that right."
The girl looks up at me, confusion etched on her face. "Pizza and beer?"
I smirk. "Yes, it's much more satisfying than a scared teenager, trust me."
The summoner looks bewildered. "So, you don't want the sacrifice?"
I shake my head. "Nope, sorry to disappoint you. This girl has been offered to me five times already, and I'm getting pretty bored of her. Can't you find someone new to offer up?"
The girl looks relieved, and I can't help but feel a bit of sympathy for her. "Listen, kid," I say to her, "don't worry about it. You're off the hook. But you might want to find some new friends if they keep trying to sacrifice you."
As I disappear back to the underworld, I can't help but chuckle to myself. Mortals are so silly sometimes. Sacrificing innocent teenagers to demons? It's like they never learned from all those horror movies they love to watch.
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j950wov
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j94gem7
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[WP] You are at the center of a time traveling war. For every assassin sent back to the past to murder you, another warrior is sent to protect you and kill the assassin before they get a chance. As the bodies pile up, you still don’t have the slightest clue why you’re so important to these people.
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The world is ending.
Not literally. Global climate change has turned the arable lands into arid wastes. The oceans have started to tip into inhospitable carbonated saunas. The algae crops are failing. Worst we didn't control our population. People are sleeping on the streets it's so over crowded. Soon. Soon we will all starve.
I was lucky, I've got a job working for one of the Algae plants, I tend the murky red algae vats. My mom pulled some strings and I've been set. The company feeds billions. I got Flfood on the table every night but then there are the assassins. First day of work, minding the vats and a rift opens, out pops a dude, lunges for me and then another rift a another dude with a sword stabs him. Second dude disappears. Great. Just great. I'm so going to loose my job I think. But then, a thought occurs to me. And I give him a nudge into the vat. Problem solved. Yeah no. They started showing up all the time. Lots of them. So many I lost count. I had to rent a van and make midnight deliveries to work to get rid of them all. I was worried about it but it's been going fine. The ph of the vats have changed but corporate sent new ph guidelines so yeah. My vats have turned from red to green.
I can't tell anyone. For obvious reasons. But i'd still like to know what is going on. Part of me wonders if it's all a clever way to smuggle us food.
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Walking down the street has never been so dangerous.
Or getting groceries.
Or literally just watching T.V.
For me at least.
Standing outside a bar, not even tipsy and waiting for an uber to pick me up, I hear the oh-so-familiar rush of the wind.
A man emerges from nowhere, blade raised and eyes fierce. He looks so determined, so excited to be the one to finally get rid of me it's honestly a bit sad.
A gunshot fires and he drops to the ground, blood oozing from the new hole in his forehead.
I walk over, kick his head and give a quick thumbs up to the shadows. A new person steps out, nods their head and zips away.
"Thank you!" I call after them.
Ah, what a regular night.
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lpziia0
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lpywwyc
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[WP] You are a member of the Hero's Party, but are distrusted because of your profession. You and the Party win, but they suddenly find themselves paralyzed. They call out your 'betrayal', but the Hero begs you not to do this. You calmly explain that a self-sacrifice was always needed in the end...
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With his own sword plunged into his chest, King Davon crumpled to his ruined throne as the hero group, tired and bloodied, stood triumphant.
“Davon’s dark reign is no more,” Simon breathed, looking around at the five people who had been strangers just two weeks ago. “Thanks to everyone in this room.”
Though the others cheered, one among them didn’t share their excitement.
Kael, the team’s soulbinder.
He glanced through the crumbling roof, where the last of the sunlight slipped behind thickening clouds. Though dawn had broken, the sky was growing darker by the second. His time was running out.
Not noticing the encroaching darkness, Elane, the sorceress, turned toward the group and was ready to launch into another of her long speeches about how fate had guided their hands. But the words never came. Her mouth froze open, eyes wide with terror.
The light drained from the sky, leaving the throne room bathed in the creeping shadows of night. The group tried to move, but an unseen force gripped them all where they stood.
Jare the Barbarian, his muscles straining against invisible bonds, shouted as he spotted Kael approaching them. “You did this to us!”
Rolf, already gripping his short blade, tried to bring his arm into action, but it refused to obey. “I told you guys that soulbinders were bad news. He’s going to rip our souls out!”
Kaylesta's eyes, blazing with fury, locked onto Kael’s. “After everything we’ve been through, you pull this trick? Have you no shame?”
But Simon, watching Kael with a more careful gaze, saw something the others didn’t. There was no anger or betrayal in Kael’s expression.
Only sorrow.
“Please,” Simon pleaded, his voice softening. “We can help you. Don’t do this.”
Kael paused for a moment, meeting Simon’s eyes with regret. He wanted to explain, to tell them all the truth. But there wasn’t time. The pull of the dark magic that bound him was growing stronger, begging to be used.
The distant rumble of thunder echoed through the crumbling walls as Kael approached Davon’s fallen sword. It was almost here.
“A sacrifice must be made,” Kael said quietly, running his hand over the hilt. He could still feel Davon’s presence within it, but it was fading, slipping away like the last traces of daylight.
He took a deep breath. “For what it’s worth… you helped me find my soul again. But some battles…” His grip tightened on the sword. “…must be fought alone.”
He turned to face them one last time, his smile soft but regretful. “I wish I could stay and enjoy the peace we fought for. But my time… is already gone.”
As night swallowed the last light, the rumble ceased, signaling the beginning of the end.
Reaching the balcony, the starless sky bathed the land in darkness as silence filled the air. Suddenly, the rumble began anew and Kael looked above to see a white vortex of light, growing bigger with each passing moment.
The Storm.
The Book of the Damned Souls didn’t mention much about The Storm, only that it was fated to swallow every soul in its wake. The Soulbinders didn’t fear The Storm, seeing it as a natural conclusion to life with the realms left barren. However, the book did mention a way to ward off The Storm.
A soul for a soul.
The ultimate sacrifice.
Kael thought about his friends. Maybe, if defeating the dark king wasn’t their focus, they could have stood united against this threat. But they were woefully unprepared and already spent. This was the only.
From the spinning spiral, a river of light descended unto Davon’s kingdom, illuminating the dark with its glow.
Feeling his own dark magic, Kael glanced at Davon’s sword. “I will need your dark magic before you can rest, dark king,” Kael muttered.
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Many people think a battle is something grand and flashy, large swings of a great sword, spells flying everywhere. When they tell the tale of this battle, it will be long, it will be arduous, many great phrases will be said. Probably a bit of grunting too.
What people do not realize is that a real battle between few people is over in moments, it is blood, its best to do in the dark. The hero party had infiltrated the castle and had murdered the general, two bishops, and finally the arch-chancellor. There would finally be peace, the figurehead of a king would declare it so after 23 years of bloody war. The so-called hero party would finally be allowed to return home.
The hero looked down at his sword, blood and fat dripping off the dull edge, he had used it on 5 people and a wells cover stone tonight, it would need a lot of doing to get it back to sharp, his clothes back to clean, and his sanity back to normal. Work, that he would not have to do as he raises his head, passed it over his childhood friend, the mage, fiery red hair muted by a dark hair net, and the stranger they had met, a spellsword from Atens, working on the promise of much gold. At least he says he is, Buhri the hero always just thought the stranger was much more loyal to the kingdom than he ever was, Atens was the first to fall after all.
Buhris gaze wavered as he turned his head a little more, to the Saint of the Dead, the person with the highest title in the kingdom. A saint strong enough to recover limbs, heal any illness, breathe life into the dead. Spells that took a day to cast, but what is a day for a lifetime, what is a day if you can have your arm back?
"You know you don't have to do this..." Buhri whispered to the Saint.
"Yes, I do." the Saint did not waver, did not hestitate, as always he was silently chanting under his breath as the words came out in a sing-song.
The hero despaired, "We could do so much more, so much more".
"That is the privilege of the living", a quiet whisper, the all encompassing song just a little louder in his voice, "Buhri, I need a break my friend"
Buhri reached over without thought and grabbed his childhood friend, pulled him in close and kissed him deeply. To say they were both suprised would be to deny the 15 years they had spent together, day by day, closer than any lover could be. "I love you." Buhri whispered.
The Saint had stopped his song, the hero party fell silent, dead, long ago by wounds untold. For the first time in 10 years, the Saints ears were not full of chants, the silent pitter and patter of the waterway, in a well under the fortress of an enemy, it was the most beautiful place he could imagine.
He got up, slowly, leaning on his staff, suddenly so tired. It was when his legs gave out underneath him that he realized he, too, had been a little reckless for the last few years. Just a bit too close to the edge, always wrapped in song.
Would he endure? Would he live? Would he have to sing, or would he elect to stay quiet. He did not know, not yet, enjoy the quiet just a little longer. He stood and waited.
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jf0k9ta
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jezkqfj
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[WP] You're patient zero of a infectious disease with hilarious side effects.
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"You... you got a young of their kind, didn't you?" A tentacle swiped by Suzy's hiding place, inches above her head.
Suzy remained quiet. It wasn't every day that the hide and seek champion of the fourth grade got a real challenge. Plus, she still needed her Animal Habitat badge, and extraterrestrials were a type of animal, weren't they?
"Of course I got a youngling! But young move slower, don't they? They have shorter... what you call 'em... legs."
She crept from her hiding space, crawling under the foliage of the space she was in. She was pretty sure it was fenced off, but that was okay. She was a great climber. Only Cara could climb better, but Cara was afraid of heights so didn't climb as much as Suzy did. Cara was just taller so could get higher first.
It was a bit like cheating if Suzy thought about it.
"That didn't look *slow* to me, you gabnarf."
"Well, the youngling has to be in here! If the show doesn't go on, our ratings will plummet! We can't have another incident like the Ratorsk."
She hadn’t even needed to climb the fence: it had so much space between its bars! Now she just needed a place to watch. The nature shows always had their camera people way off in the distance, but they had cameras and she only had her eyes. And her climbing skills. There was a bunch of cabling along the wall. The wall itself was a smooth shiny surface, but she could probably still climb it if she hung onto the cords. And they led right up to a beam she could lay on!
It wasn't her fault that the beam was right out of reach. She had to lean real far, kicking the cables to get just a few more inches. And ship cables weren't supposed to be so flimsy! At least they weren't in the space shows daddy liked to watch.
Sirens screamed as she curled up on the beam. "Life systems critical! Emergency power disconnected!"
Below one of her captors shouted, "This is *worse* than the Ratorsk!"
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Filmed in front of a live audience…
A creature with 2 heads and three tentacle appendages steps onto a stage saying “Hello and welcome to another episode of…” The audience enthusiastic cries “Abducted!” The host of the show introduces himself as Pats Spacejacks and makes his way to a lever.
“Today we have from the planet dirt a guest descended from small hairy arboreal cats.” Flashing a picture of a human the audience awes and cues. “Our translators are on stand by and here is our guest ‘Karen’.”
Some time into the interview.
“Well I’m not certain what some of what she is talking about but apparently humans do a whole lot of it. We are assuming that the ‘manager’ she is referencing is maybe our leader? We have had some guests want to speak with our leaders before but as an autonomous collective we have long passed the need for such a figure.
More time later…
“And there we have it, the little tree cat has been sent back to her homeworld with a parting gift. A subspace distributor, I think myself and the audience can say good riddance to ‘Karen’ and that whole flipping race.”
The show ends showing the planet earth slowly be pulled apart into a string of fine dust.
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j38g3kk
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j37s3v7
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[WP]You reincarnated in a fantasy world, but when you go check your stats, everything seems to be really average, until you put your eyes on charisma, that is on 200 points
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As I wake, I hear moaning. Not the usual moans of agony I’ve become used to, punctuated with screams and gunfire. Soft, constant moaning. From all around me.
It’s pitch dark. My head is pounding. I lever myself up onto an elbow, and realise that I am no longer lying on blood-infused sand and volcanic ash of the Iwo Jima beach. Beneath me is stone.
Had the mortar blast that knocked me out collapsed me into a cave? Had one of my fellow marines dragged me to safety?
I feel for the lighter in my combat pants pocket, and realise that I’m not wearing them anymore. Instead of the familiar heavy layer of cargo trouser, I am wearing something soft, skin-tight.
Tights?
I run my hand over my shirt. I feel ruffles, under a velvet-pile jerkin.
A jerkin?
“Command: Simulation pause”, I say. Nothing happens. I squeeze my fingers together, then let them explode outward into a spread hand. The menu comes up, but all the options that would take me out of the game are disabled.
The moans float towards me, from all directions. I begin to feel a seed of panic.
“Ok,” I say to myself. “Ok. Command Info Panel”.
This time my command works as expected. A ball of light floats into existence in front of me, and then expands into a round, semi-transparent screen.
*Name: Sir Roger Dragonthrust*
*Ok*, I think to myself. I must have somehow switched to a different simulation. *Fuck*.
It had taken me months to get to Iwo Jima. No shortcuts for me, I’d played the whole WW2 Pacific campaign, being bitten by bugs day after day as I’d suffered the nightly surprise attacks on Guadalcanal, feeling my feet rot in the constant rain on Peleliu during the goddamn Operation Stalemate saga. And now, just as I get to Iwo Jima, some glitch has taken me out of the campaign, and landed me in some goddamn Hobbit game.
The moans are louder now. No, not louder. Just, more. A lot more.
I check my bio settings. Pain is still set to *full* - Getting shot on a beach at full pain stung like a wasp sting. It’s a hardcore way to play but a great incentive to take it seriously. I like realism, and if pain is anything, it’s real.
I glance at my stats. *Average strength*, I see. *8 Dex, 9 Intelligence, 7 Wisdom, 200-*
I do a double take. *200 Charisma*?
Now I know the game is broken. Charisma scores didn’t go to 200. Charisma 9 meant you would occasionally get invited to a party. Charisma 18 meant that you could charm pretty much anyone, raise and lead an army. Charisma 19 meant that you were destined for President or supreme dictator.
Charisma 200? What would that even do?
It would be beyond charm. Beyond hero worship. People would have their personalities wiped away under the blaze of your personality.
They would mindlessly follow you. Heck, at 200 they would probably try to physically devour you out of a titanic primal desire to be close to you.
A glitch like this would probably turn the entire world into a mass of seething zombies, everyone of them consumed by no thought except the thought of you.
The moans are very loud now. Somewhere nearby, I hear a window break.
|
That, you see, was the beginning of the end. I truly wish I could go back. Do so many things differently.
The number burned into my mind and unfortunately, my friends, I let it affect how I viewed the world. I let it change me.
Honestly, even saying that I feel the fool, knowing others will read it and scoff. They'll ridicule me, acting as if I have no agency in my own bleeding life. I don't know how to explain it. It was a choice. I knew this day would come. At the same time, with great power comes immense responsibility, of which I have proved I have none.
I am sorry, ladies and gentlemen.
Just, when it comes so *easy*, who am I to turn it down? I'm not Gandhi or Martin Luther King. No one will ever say: "Turn right onto Bill Thompson Ave."
So when I realized people would practically throw themselves at me, their belongings and their, like, flesh, I mean... who among you could say you'd do differently? Brothers and sisters, that who is without sin may cast the first stone.
I have forgone my right to a lawyer with only the truest intentions. I want to make you understand and see and admit that I am right. We are all like this or would be if we had the chance.
It is not my fault that I had the chance and that I took it.
And again: I'm sorry.
Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, I'm sorry about your two little girls. You'd understand too if a single wink could drop skirts and panties.
*Mrs. Johnson erupted in sobs, leaving Bill Thompson's next lines inaudible.*
Herbert, I'm sorry about your grandma's things, but, like, man she practically *gave* them to me! She double-fisted the heirlooms into my own bleeding paws, thanking me out the door.
Look, all this to make the point that: I'm just a normal, ordinary guy, doing what any of us would do, given the same circumstances. Look at it this way: if you were to become me, to live all of my same experiences, from my birth up to the present, you would do all of the same things. There is no special essence of *you*, ladies and gentlemen, that would make you behave differently. When viewed from this vantage point, do any of us even have a choice? Was it my choice to wink at Mrs. Johnson's little girls? Was it their choice to swoon and follow me into my home?
I'd argue not! I'd argue that there were no choices in the matter, regardless of how you look at it. And that any of you, including even you, your honor, would act the same way.
That is my opening statement, your honor.
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ldslj3y
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ldrwhuo
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[WP] "No, you're fine, I'm not upset," they said, near tears. "It's just ... I haven't heard that song in over a thousand years. Where did you learn it?"
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"My father used to sing it for me. I was lost here, in this place, but I would here his voice singing those words. It was like he was calling to me almost. I would follow them, running until I would collapse on the ground and cry when I couldn't hear them anymore....Until the next time I would hear that song and follow again, each time finding my sense of purpose and direction." The old man wiped his tears and took a deep breath. He extended a hand with a cup in it, which began to waft steam as he breathed. He was suddenly so calm.
"Here, take this and drink some. It is my favorite."
I sipped from the cup which the old man had given me. A warmness spread through my soul like I had not felt in a long time. I sighed happily, taking in the taste and complexity of such a simple drink. "...Jasmine, my favorite." I begin to tear up, not able to hold back the tears as I smiled through them and broke down. The old man across from me appeared to be doing the same. Through a broken voice he said:
"My sweet Lu Ten. How I have missed you, my son." He jumped across his tea set, letting it all fall to the ground in a mess as he embraced me for the first time in a thousand years.
"I missed you too, father."
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“Sorry, I didn’t learn it. I heard it in a dream” she replied. “What was your name again? I know you have told me before but it keeps slipping my mind.”
Never in my wildest imagination would I have thought reincarnation to be real but now that I remember the witches humming and the pain in my chest do I know know what I had lost for my immortality.
A song. I had thought I had won. Only a simple song but what came with that simple melody was all that was what I held dear. With it my love. With it my life. With it my paradise. And the final loss? With it my wife.
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jvdt0b8
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jvdnqq0
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[WP] You thought your friend was just a little delusional with their whole…insisting they were a god business. But it was nothing too severe, I mean, you got a good laugh out of it sometimes. That was until they convinced the other gods to make you one as well…
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I smiled at Oren, trying to play along. She was so nice, just a little strange. “Okay cool. What did you guys decide to make me the goddess of?”
She laughed, twirling her dark cloak around in a broad circle. That was another thing I admired about her. She was brave enough to live the dream. She wore cosplay stuff everywhere, especially that cape. Full on goddess of darkness everywhere she went. It was pretty cool in my book.
Oren took a seat at one of the park benches. “Well, I wanted you to be the water goddess because water powers are awesome, right?” I sat beside her, nodding along. I’d only agreed to this whole godhood thing because… well, I wanted to protect her. She four foot five and antagonized people constantly with her talk of nightmares and doom. “But Isaiah said that was too close to his ice powers. So I showed them a picture of you and they agreed you could definitely be the goddess of beauty. Oh, and plants because beauty isn’t entirely practical.”
“Cool.” I think. A group of my delusional peers thought I was hot enough to be granted divine powers. “Well, thanks.”
She nodded and grinned. “Oh, good. Ann, I was hoping you’d like it. I do know you’re self conscious, but now you don’t have to be.” She leaned back on the park bench and shade seemed to stretch from a nearby tree to cover her. Things like this just… happened around her. I took it as the universe protecting the weak. She believed it was a form of godhood. “Go ahead, try it out.”
“How?” I asked weakly. She usually didn’t focus on her mildly delusional view of the world for this long. Just a mention or two of a supernatural event.
Oren twirled a hand, pointing vaguely. “I dunno. Dazzle me. My powers just came in a snap, like a thunderclap.”
I managed a little smile and her eyes popped open a bit. She leaned forward eagerly, grinning. “Ann, that’s amazing!” Oren pointed at a passerby. “Smile at him like that!”
Uh. Fine. I turned my dubiously powerful smile on the man and he did a full stop. Then turned to stare, open mouthed. I laughed softly, just now getting it. This must be some elaborate ploy from Oren to raise my self esteem. And it really was touching, the thought she put into this. She must’ve payed the man and set this up.
I grinned back, touched by her thoughtfulness. She’d given me weird presents before, like blessed dice which were admittedly lucky. But this was a new level of crazy I wasn’t entirely comfortable with. “Are you sure, Oren? I mean, godhood might be a bit too much responsibility for me.”
Oren cackled. “And you think we’re model citizens? Chris used to boost cars before he got his powers.” She laid a gauntleted arm over my shoulder, having to work to offset the foot or so of height difference. “Ann, you’re worth it.” Her words carried more significance then was apparent, and they cut me deep. We both knew I believed that I wasn’t. I wasn’t worth the custody battle my parents had over me and I wasn’t worth the effort Oren took to get to know me.
Little tears started to bud in my eyes and I hurriedly blinked them away. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” She ruffled my hair and bounced up. “How about that ice cream?”
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When I was a child, I envisioned God as a perfect creator, kind yet infinitely calculated. When my parents would argue, I would begin to question why he couldn’t stop them. Maybe he was busy being a God on another world, or maybe this was all somehow part of his plan, and in the end it would turn out all right. I never consciously made the decision to stop believing in God. I guess the whole idea started to sound pretty ridiculous as I got older. My best friend had always been a bit of a religious zealot. Maybe he had been through hard times and relied on a higher power like me. One day, we were sitting on an old stone bridge over a fast-flowing stream, our usual hangout spot, and he said to me, "I feel guilty keeping secrets from you." He trailed off, but I prodded him to open up. "I know this is going to sound crazy to you, but I can feel the spirit of God in my body." I thought it was a little weird how he phrased it, but I figured he just meant he had a strong religious conviction. "Every day I can feel myself becoming something more than human. I see things differently, I hear things differently. I’m scared. I need someone I can talk to who can keep me grounded in my humanity." At this point, I thought he had gone off his rocker but I wanted to support him if he was going through a tough time. I sat and talked with him for hours. He never really made it clear what he meant by “more than human.” I didn’t see him for several months, and I forgot all about our conversation. That was until I heard a ringing in my head: "You have been chosen. You have been found to be worthy of the authority." Suddenly my vision blurred, and billions of faces and trillions of voices all entered my mind at once. The birth of the universe, the genesis of humanity, humanity’s eventual fall, and the collapse of the universe—each of these things I perceived in their infinitesimally short existences. I screamed, but the voice that erupted was that of everyone who ever had, has, would, or could exist. All was me, and I was all. My mind fractured and repaired itself in an eternal war between insanity and clarity. I existed in a state of constant contradiction. I created a boulder so heavy I could not lift it, and then I lifted it. Nothing meant anything, and everything was beautiful. I found the truth, and I found it to be meaningless. All was pain, and all was joy. I wished for death, but I was death. Through all these things, I failed to notice one thing: the kid whose parents were arguing with each other for God knows what reason.
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lw3ulti
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lw3tyu3
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[WP] at this point the dragon felt bad for kidnapping you since no one bothered to show up in a year, he offers you a potion that can turn you into a dragon to get revenge on your kingdom for forgetting you
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Part 2:
And so we waited as seven months silently marched on. Ghinil making an effort to keep me entertained with his stories or escorting me throughout the mountainous territory he had picked to stage his Rights of Passage.
It was during the eleventh month that one day Ghinil announced that my kingdom had won the war. And now with that out of the way they surely would turn their attention to rescuing their kidnapped princess. I remember feeling nothing at the announcement. No joy. No hate. Just nothing.
And as the year finally ended, I knew why I had felt nothing. I had felt it because I knew that I was not wanted. That my existence to the kingdom wasn’t important since other heirs could easily be made to replace me.
It was at the start of the new year when Ghinil came to me carrying not a cup of cinnamon tea but a bottle with a potion inside it. As he placed it in my hands he solemnly explained that this was a way for me to get my revenge on my kingdom. Though he would lose his princess needed for the Rights of Passage, a new dragon would be born and I could destroy those who had abandoned me.
I could not think of a reply as I stared at him before he left me alone. Turning my attention to the bottle I thought of what it meant. I would no longer be human but I would have toe power to hurt them as they had hurt me.
A power that I willingly accepted as I drank from the bottle. The cinnamon tea flavored liquid sending a pleasant warmth through my body as a drank. A warmth that continued to intensify as I felt my body grow and expand as scales began to emerge from my skin and talons began to push out from the tips of my fingertips. A gasp escaped from me as I felt a tail began to grow and shape as my body continued to change until a burst of heat and my jaw and face shifted and began to elongate until my new muzzle was created.
As the warmth subsided
and the change ended I took a deep, ragged breath as I began to get used to my new form.
“Beautiful.”
I heard Ghinil say as I turned to see him. The scales of his body a stunning blue with my new vision.
“More then a swamp toad?” I laughed as he came closer.
“Yes. More beautiful then a swamp toad. More beautiful then the human you once were. A beautiful visage that will forever haunt those who wronged you.” he answered with a sigh as he looked at me.
“Thank you Ghinil.” I replied with what I hoped was a smile. “But you know I don’t plan to let it be a swift revenge. We first need a to get you another princess so you can complete your Rights. So I think we’ll start by destroying parts of the castle and some villages when we kidnap the target so they will take you as serious threat. And then when the hero or heroes come we’ll destroy them one by one. Crushing the kingdoms hope with each pawn they send us.”
“I think I’ve created a monster.” Ghinil chuckled.
“And for that. I thank you.”
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Part 1:
The potion tastes faintly of cinnamon tea as I drink it. I never liked the taste of cinnamon but slowly over the year spent with Ghinil I had grown to enjoy it.
A year. For a year I had been kept in this cave by Ghinil after he had kidnapped me from my kingdom. Of course during those first few days I had been a hysterical mess despite his politeness and repeatedly telling me that the kidnapping was his Rights of Passage into adult hood. With his surviving the impending attack from whoever my kingdom sent as the requirement for the Rights.
But no one ever came.
As the days slid into weeks, my hysteria turning into a hopeful and defiant act as I taunted Ghinil over his impending doom, then the weeks turning into a month, I became quite and withdrawn as I realized no one was coming.
As the month slid into another Ghinil began to prod me into drinking a cup of cinnamon tea that he managed to make when he used his magic to change from a windmill sized lizard to the size of draft horse. I remember when he pushed that first cup into my hands how he nervously laughed and said that if he survived the attack, that surely would happen soon because the kingdom had to be gathering the best to rescue me, he would gain the magic ability to turn into a human. I had only responded that I hoped the form would be as ugly as a swamp toad.
Whether he was hurt by my rudeness I don’t know. But every day with my breakfast and dinner he would give me a cup of cinnamon tea as he chatted with me before leaving me in a spacious room of the cave that branched out from the main section where Ghinil stayed and had originally kept me there for the kingdom’s hero or heroes to see me.
As the second month entered the third Ghinil began to bring a variety of items to decorate my room. Beds, chairs, artwork, every week he’d bring me something new. Where he got them from he’d never say when I asked. But I could guess that wherever he got them it was from plundering a town or village to get the kingdom’s attention.
But even that failed as one night he sadly reported that the kingdom was now at war with a northern kingdom and all the forces were being used for that. So I simply asked him to stop and we could wait for the war to stop for him to complete his Rights.
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lohcqwb
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loh0vkv
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[WP] When it happens, no one can believe it. One of the magical girls on the team that protects the city has been killed during a monster attack. Late that night, a women sits awake in her house and wonders why her daughter hasn't come home.
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Everybody must have been shocked when it happened. Alive one moment, the next, collapsed in a pool of softly gleaming blood. I remember seeing it in person, I remember...
...
No, I can't bear to think about it just yet.
No one actually expected them to win after that. We don't know who they are, but it's pretty clear they're barely teenagers. They did a great job holding it together after she died. Their big evil-cleansing finisher that turned the monstrosity back into a person has never been done without the full team of 6, but this time, they made do with 5.
What shocked me most was how everyone just... Left, afterwards. The other magical girls, I don't blame them, once it was over, they finally let themselves face the emotional impact of what happened, and they all fled the scene in tears. The live reporters tried to follow the girls, perhaps the channels they were live filming for had an age restriction they didn't wanna break intentionally.
But in the end, everyone left. It seemed like... Everybody was too scared or depressed to face the direct evidence of this tragedy.
I was the only one who stayed there long enough to see her revert to her normal form. No less dead than before, unfortunately.
---
Eventually some people showed up. A team that managed to usually minor aftermath of the fights the magical girl squad got into.
I saw a pair of them bringing a body bag over.
"Not what you usually bring, huh?" I muttered.
"Well actually... We always brought it just in case. But... I thought it would see use for some unfortunate or stupid civilian caught in the crossfire. Not like this." They kept walking.
They did a facial scan before bagging her, before one called out to the group.
"Alright, who's the unlucky guy who has to tell her parents?"
Dead silence.
"... Guess it's down to drawing straws, then."
"I'll do it." I said.
"Who are you, exactly?"
"Guess."
They all paused. They knew.
"Are you sure you wanna do that? You don't have to put yourself through more than you've already-"
"I'm sure."
"Well... Okay." He handed me the name and address. I finally left.
---
The walk was long, and I didn't think about much. Until I reached the house. As I took the first step into the front yard, memories resurfaced.
Seeing her drop to the ground.
_Stop it_
I made my way to the front porch, trying to focus on putting one step in front of the other. Yet another memory broke through.
Seeing the surprise in her eyes, before they slid shut for the last time.
_STOP IT_
I reached the door, and saw the doorbell. I moved to press it, before another memory intruded.
Seeing-
_SHUT UP, SHUT UP! PLEASE!_
Despite my desperation, the last memories resurfaced.
Of ripping my claws through the girl's frail form.
Shaky breathing, nausea, jittering movement. I pressed the doorbell, and pulled myself together.
This was why I had to bring the news to her family. The magical girls were able to cleanse the physical monstrosity, but the memories... What I did while transformed...
I have to face those demons myself.
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9 PM. 10 PM. 11 PM. Midnight. 1...2...3...
She's still not home...
Awake and terrified, I already called the cops, but they shrugged it off saying that a 14 year old missing curfew once is not a reason to worry, I should call them if she doesn't show up tomorrow.
But...I am her mother...
I can feel it...
Something has happened to her.
Our world was...dangerous, and that's an overly optimistic way to put it.
Monsters, aliens, and superpowered individuals were common.
Our city was the same, and our protectors were...magical girls.
Girls. Mere young ones...fighting to death with those creatures...
Today...one of them fell, dying to the cruel poison of an Oceanic Monster...
She...she was the same age as my daughter.
The feeling I couldn't shake off for a year now came back.
My daughter is a bookworm, and we stayed home reading...together.
That's how we bonded.
But a bit more than a year ago...it changed.
She started going out, started having "Friends", really really good "friends" out of nowhere...
Missing appointments, missing from school...
I shrugged it off as puberty, but now...
As I was lost in thoughts, I felt a ray of light fall on my face...the sun was rising...
Just then...the doorbell rang.
I ran to the door, my expectations high, ready to hug me daughter, but when I opened the door, I was greeted by the sorry sight of 4 young girls, two of them holding something...
"No...", I muttered.
"She...she saved me.", one of them whispered.
I grabbed the blanket they were holding, and it was true...it was...her...
I took her from them, and hugged her close.
"You are so cold...let mom brew you some tea, your favorite tea...", I muttered, holding my daughter close.
"She...she was a hero...", the girls muttered.
"Why?", I looked at them, my eyes stinging.
"We...someone...monsters...", the muttered unintelligibly.
"WHY?!", I roared, breaking down.
The girls didn't know what to do, so we stood there, as the sun shone on this sight.
Me, crying over...over my daughter's body, and 4 girls shifting uncomfortably...
I should have been more reasonable, after all I was the adult, but I couldn't...not now...
I shut the door on their face, and together with my daughter, I went upstairs to her room...
I needed time...time to process this, I...I knew it was true...I knew I had to call the authorities, but...
I wanted some more time with her...
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k3yov1o
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k3xzb7d
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[WP] Whenever someone is buried in your town, plants grow and surround the grave, representing what sort of life they lived. When a pillar of the community dies, their grave is covered in thick, gnarled brambles.
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"I think it's fitting, really."
My voice breaks the uncomfortable silence that has fallen over the grave, where everybody turned up expecting to see a field of beautiful flowers over the late Mrs. Hawkins grave only to see this. Thick, ugly, thorny brambles. Half rotting and bearing no fruit.
Well, almost everybody. I expected to see something like this when I showed up today.
"And how exactly is this fitting? She organised all of the community events that have brought so much joy to our community, she put in so much work and you call this fitting?"
I smile condescendingly at him. "Oh, you don't even know, do you. She didn't do any of that. All she was really good at is claiming credit for other peoples hard work. She'd hear about somebody setting up some kind of community event and then sweep in and pretend that it was her idea all along, and that she alone had worked on it. And of course, since she was such a 'pillar of the community', you always believed her. Well now here's your proof. A grave of rotting thorny bushes that will produce no fruit and damage any that come near it. I'm half surprised that her grave didn't sprout poison ivy because she was certainly a parasite."
There is another uncomfortable silence. "As for who actually organised all of that? Who did the legwork, who actually made all of those events work? I'm sure you 'pillars of the community' will figure it out eventually. The graveyard never lies, after all."
As I walk away from them to leave, I make a brief stop at my mothers grave to pick some of the wild strawberries that grow there. Such a tiny fruit and so easily overlooked or missed. I pop one in my mouth. Schadenfreude never tasted so sweet.
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Everybody liked farmer John. A loving husband, dutiful father, and animal lover. He has went beyond the veil, leaving his wife Nelly, 10 of their children, many friendships that have lasted decades, 3 loyal hounds, a couple of donkeys, a motley assortment of all kinds of farm animals and his 200 acre estate. But when we got his coffin in the ground, tree root thick and dark brambles had wrapped over the top, odd quality of the cemetery that is.
After that there was rumors of an extra person hanging around old farmer Johns house. A 19 year old boy that had to have been 40 or 50 some years younger than John. We heard from Nelly’s friends in the bar that the day after the funeral nelly had been visited by Johns ‘lover.’
A sickening history had been uncovered when they discovered Johns first interaction with the boy was when he held his farm as a corn maze and petting zoo in the fall season for families with free animal feed tickets for young kids.
It was a small conservative town, everybody trusted each other like family. No one ever expected such a monster to be right under our noses.
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jfkegxe
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jfk96lr
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[WP] Every 1000 years all of the Gods get together for a contest to see who can collect the most souls with a single catastrophic event. Last time Poseidon broke the 1M mark with a Tsunami/earthquake combo. You’re up.
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As the goddess of Discord, I normally didn't have much power over mortals. I could cause wars, yes, but there weren't nearly enough soldiers to do the kind of damage that Poseidon or Zeus could.
However, we are an hour away from the 3rd millennia of the common era, and my plan has been set in motion for five hundred years. From the making of modern Europe, I inspired nationalism in the Serbian people, in the German people, everyone was proud and wanted an empire as big as Britain. When I gave the Black Hand help in assassinating Franz Ferdinand, the first major part of my plan was in motion. The first world war would inspire the second. It would be the cause of the Bolshevik revolution. It would cause the cold war, where I would gain infinitely more sway now that the mortals have intercontinental ballistic missiles to play around with.
So how does one start nuclear war? One simply blows up an american spy satelite that was hovering over Russia. Tensions escalated and eventually, the first (and last) Nuclear War of the humans had begun, and within months there was nothing on this brazen earth.
The other gods were both horrified and impressed with my work, but nothing beat the satisfaction of saying to those gods who have acted like they're better than the rest of us for thousands of years "It's time for my era now, the era of discord!"
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Gods... Laughable excuses for divinity. Poseidon always bragging about his kills, Zeus throwing lightning, Odin's Ragnarok, it's all a joke. They know nothing of what it means to take a soul. The cost for all involved.
But I'll show them.
I smile as a whisper into the ears of mortals, "what if God's don't exist?"
I don't need some big event, some crowning glory to flex my divinity. All I need is the seed of doubt, for if they don't believe, they lose their souls not just for this lifetime, but for eternity.
Darkness reigns
I smile as my work is done, for the greatest trick this devil ever pulled, was to convince the world we Gods don't exist.
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jy44hqe
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jy3rdhr
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[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.
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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.
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The Rat had hidden underground for several years, building something big.
A large mech built like a human built to kill the hero who ruined his life.
He began maneuvering through the labyrinthine wires and arms as he made his way to the control room hidden inside this gigantic robot of steel and bolts.
He made it there surprisingly quickly, with no buttons or levers, just a chair with two halves of a neckpiece dangling from cables.
He sat down in the chair, snapping the two halves together, and pressed a button on the edge of the chair.
His body shook sporadically, and then went limp.
The robot began to stand up, and the rat saw through its mechanical eyes.
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k65htx6
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k655ujs
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[WP] You're a mostly forgotten god whose only believer is a ten-year-old girl. Every night she offers you a bit of her dinner or a shiny rock in exchange for her family surviving the night and every night you accept because she's never in danger Tonight, however, you actually have to work for it.
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(I've never done one of these and also I have never really written anything before, but I liked this prompt so I wrote this in like 20 minutes. Please don't be too mean...)
*Goddamned girl* I thought as I hastily made my way back to my realm. “Jackson, go make sure Alex got the records stored properly. I can never tell if he is actually listening to me or just playing with his tablet.”
*Janice is going to be the death of me* I thought as Jackson ran off to do my bidding. Of course, I’d be dead if Janice was dead anyways. She is the last believer in me in the universe. Once she is gone, so am I. Also, she is 12. Don’t ask me how she came to find out about me, but she did. She offers me DELICIOUS little portions of mac and cheese or some really cool shiny things and in exchange she asks me for her and her family’s safety. And like, that’s cool and all considering they live in a relatively safe suburb and don’t really go out too much, but all of a sudden they’ve gone off on some “Family Vacation” and now it’s just been one thing after another.
The first thing I had to fix was when their plane got struck by lightning when flying over the Atlantic. How often does that happen? I had to personally go out there and put the fires out to make sure their plane made it to Greece.
Then, at the airport, they got in a car with a “Taxi” that was actually a car from a sex trafficking ring so I caused them to get a flat tire on the way out and they had to find another ride.
And this last time! Two of them got bitten by a snake. TWO OF THEM. Holy shit, snake bites are one of the hardest for me to deal with! I had to make sure a nearby hospital had the anti-venom, and call and ambulance out to their location because they were just going to “Walk it off”. As if they could just “walk off” a bite from a nose-horned viper... That last one was really taxing on me as I had to basically ret-con the anti-venom. I can only do that like 2 times a year max! I just hope they’ll be more careful for the rest of this vacation as I can’t really spend much more time on this with my limited power…
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It wasn't hard to do as a god. It was just terrifying that I actually had to do it.
The beast didn't know any better. It was a winter storm and it broke in to stay warm. The beast was that of a father carrying his babies. The mother was long lost in the snow and beast was desperate.
Hearing the screams shot my anxiety up. Seeing my child run to her mom crying was just heart breaking. Of course I had to act! It wasn't hard to manipulate the winds or break the floor, but everything I did, I had to do carefully-
Especially when the child is asking me to not kill him.
She was scared but she didn't want to face death, even if it was the death of something that threatened her life. I had to comply.
I yelled to her dad to lure the beast into the kitchen and then lock himself in the closet, I'll take care of the rest. He was so hesitant that my girl decided to do it instead.
Seeing her face the beast made my heart drop! "I asked the old man, not you!"
"But he can't do it so I will!"
"My child." Tearing up I let her do it as she managed to ignore her parents.
Soon she got it into the kitchen and there I dropped the ceiling. Not on the beast but behind him. He accidentally dropped his babies, all of which ran to the closet in fear of the loud noise.
Seeing the father's look of fear was something new. The beast was expressive. I haven't seen anything like that in years but I also haven't seen a child be stupid enough to let the young lines in with her. The beast ran up but she closed the door on time and I let more of the house drop, not killing but instead trapping the beast and sealing him in such a way the cold couldn't get to him.
When the sun finally broke through the clouds the next day, I got to see the most heart warming moment ever.
She dug him out. With the help of his younglings. Seeing his babies somehow perfectly fine in the crip cold of the morning's glow, it felt like he was going to cry.
He was hurt but not bad enough to be concerning. My little girl still helped him by badging him up. During so, she thanked me for keeping my word and promised me a big muffin.
"How big?"
"As big as the beast!"
"Pppft. How about make it as big as his pups. I don't think you have enough flour otherwise." I rebuild the house quite easily to the rest of the family's shock.
The last thing I see is the beast bowing and leaving the family after a nice breakfast together before his mate ran up to greet him. My twin sister was right behind her, happy that I helped.
"So you still have it in you after all." It's been so long since I've heard her voice.
All I can do is smile.
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jd17jvi
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jd13fqe
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[WP] "God can come have coffee with me if he's really interested." You said, shutting the door on some irritating guys with pamphlets. The very next day, God taps lightly on your door, to have a coffee.
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"So you're not Rob Benedict?"
"No, I'm not. I came as something familiar to you because seeing my true form has been known to cause some people to lose their sanity."
"Right, and you're here because...?"
"I'm here because you extended the invitation to me for coffee."
"When the hell did I do that?" I asked as I let the man, no, God inside my house.
"When you slammed the door on a couple of my followers yesterday." He stated as he went to sit down at the kitchen island.
"Of course." I sighed as I moved into the kitchen. "I got a pretty fancy coffee maker. How do you take your coffee?" I asked as I moved to make myself a cup.
"I'll take whatever you're having, my child." He said as I moved about the kitchen. "Hope you like it sweet and over complicated."
I made the two cups and handed one to Him. It was still strange to have an actual conversation with God in the flesh.
"So, my child -" "Please, just call me by my name." I said as I stood in front of him on the other side of the island.
"Right, Alex, why did you shut the door in my followers' faces? They weren't behaving rudely." He said.
"While they didn't behave rudely yesterday or the weeks before, their church and beliefs are something that I do not support. Especially not when I am one of the people they preach about going to hell." I stated with a slight bitterness to my voice.
"What do you mean? You aren't sinning in any way. You aren't an adulterer, you haven't committed murder, you don't steal or anything that would be considered a sin. You would be right up in heaven with each of your loved ones."
I let out a low chuckle. "I guess it matters to them whom I marry and what is between my legs." I said as I watched his face fall.
"Excuse me, what do you mean?" He asked as he furrowed His brows. I moved to grab the multiple church pamphlets from the cabinet. I dropped them in front of Him.
"Racists, bigots, homophobic, transphobic, sexist, misogynistic, greedy. I will never associate with people with that much hate in their hearts while claiming to be doing your work."
I sipped my coffee as He read over the pamphlets, His face paling as He read each and every single one.
By the time He spoke, I was finished drinking my cup. "How long has this been going on for...?" He asked as He rose from His seat.
I turned around to see Him looking out the window. "That depends. How long have you been gone for?" I asked casually before moving to put a hand on his shoulder.
"I've been gone for far too long. They've twisted my words to further their own agenda and line their pockets. I will not stand for it. I will make this right, I have to." He stated before turning to face me.
"And you're going to help me." He stated, making me raise an eyebrow.
"Me? Why me?"
"You have helped open my eyes to how much the world needs my help, I would appreciate your help with the modern times."
I sighed and rub my face. "Okay, fine, but I'll need more coffee first." I said before grabbing my mug.
He reached His hand out and refilled my mug. I sipped it and it tasted exactly the same as before.
"Thank you." I said as I saw Him refill his own mug.
"No, thank you. You're the one who made me this delicious coffee."
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There was a "tat-tat" sound on the door. I rushed over, wondering who the surprise visitor could be, but all that was on my porch was a package of coffee. The label said Veronica Coffee Co. I looked down the drive to see if I could catch a glimpse of my mysterious benefactor, but it appeared as if they'd rushed away because I saw no sight of them.
At first, I was hesitant to pick up the package, wondering if it was a bomb. I didn't think I had any enemies, but who wouldn't think it strange when a bag of coffee shows up unexpectedly? After inspecting it carefully, I gave in and picked it up. From it came the most pleasant aroma. I shook it, hearing beans within. *Hmmph*. It seemed perfectly fine. I read all the text on the package, which was strangely sparse, lacking even an address of where it was made. There was just the label in a thick green cursive font overlaying an image of something reminiscent of the Big Bang.
The flavor was printed below - "All Knowing. All Seeing. All Places."
If that wasn't a weird flavor of coffee, then I didn't know what was. I scratched my head for several minutes, wondering if I should text my friends to let them know that I'd received this strange package. I took pictures of it with my phone, planning to post them on Instagram, but when I went to upload them they were gone. So I took the pictures again, and the same thing happened. *Terrible time for there to be a bug in my phone.*
*Fine. I'll just text them.* The moment I was about to tap send on the text, my phone shut off out of nowhere. I tossed the coffee aside and started fiddling with my phone, trying to get it to work. At least an hour went by before I gave up and went back to the coffee. Later, the tech at a phone store told me that all of the chips inside were fried due to a rare malfunction that had only happened to six other devices of the same model. This same malfunction was also probably responsible for my inability to send the pictures that wouldn't send.
Anyways, so my stomach was grumbling now and I remembered that I had a tasty pastry waiting for the perfect cup of coffee. So I opened the package from Veronica Coffee Co. and got my french press. The package only had enough for a single cup in it, and it measured perfectly with no leftovers at all. So I made the cup, and it was by far the best cup I'd ever had in my life. Total coffee perfection. When I took my last sip I actually felt sad that it was over. I looked at the package again, trying to see if I'd missed an address or something so I could order more. Just like the first time, there was nothing.
I shook my head. I just had to tell someone about this, and not having my phone really sucked, so I decided to drive to my brother's house a few streets away. I grabbed the Veronica Coffee Co. package and got in the car. At this point, I should've expected something to happen, since everything about this was strange, but I didn't give it a second thought. And as you probably guessed, that was when the accident happened. I was proceeding through an intersection when I was T-boned by another car. I lost consciousness, my car was totaled, and of course, as you can guess - the coffee wrapper was destroyed.
That wasn't even the strangest thing. The occupants of the car who hit me were the two men who came to talk to me about God the day before. When I woke up in the hospital and found out, I knew that none of this had to be a coincidence - that somehow I was being called by God. I couldn't prove a shred of what happened to me was true. Yet I know it was because I experienced it. You can call me a liar, a fool, or a person who believes in fantasies, but what happened to me is real.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
\------
This was a fantastic prompt!
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j78t0ai
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j78kwp2
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[WP] The most fearsome super villain in history was defeated and for judgement received two options: death sentence or memory wipe. They chose the latter. When the super heroes perform a coup and take control over the world, there is only one person powerful enough to aid you...
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Kyrie did not join the coup the other heroes initiated that week, despite the numerous invitations he received. They often looked down on his unrefined powers, but raw physical strength still had its uses. If not, the government would never have plucked him off the filthy doorsteps of Tyhon Orphanage and groomed him into a licensed hero.
He faithfulness to the government wasn't due to loyalty or any trivial emotional like it. He remained on its side because it paid him. Not in pretentious status or "higher purpose" drivel, but in gold coins. The government may be corrupt, but its gold was amongst the most pure existences known to man.
Kyrie sat in a meeting room amongst five suited men. Their eyes darted whenever he glanced at them. Understandable given the circumstances. Sitting around a hero in the middle of a coup defied logic. The conference room's doors slide open, and Mr. Carlile limped from the hallway's darkness into the bright room. He held one hand toward Kyrie while the order gripped an ivory cane so hard his knuckles shone white.
"Now Kyrie," he whispered. "I need you to listen. I've recently been briefed that you have some history with the man behind me, but we need his assistance to restore order around here."
Kyrie snorted. "What man doesn't have history with me? It's all good." He said with a shrug.
"I'm afraid you don't understand the full context here. Can I speak with you privately for a mo- hey, wait. Don't come in yet!"
A second figure entered the conference room. This one a young man in an expensive tailored suit. He wore his black hair in a bun and green strands streaked through it. His purple eyes widened as he scanned the room, lingering on holograms and maps. "Wow. This is some fancy tech you have in here."
Kyrie bolted from his chair and launched toward him. "Hendrix?" He yelled unconsciously as painful memories flooded his mind. How the man still lived never crossed his mind, only the joy that he'd be able to kill Hendrix himself. He'd be able to enact vengeance for his miserable childhood. Warm currents of electricity encircled his right fist as he cocked it back and slammed it into Hendrix's chin.
Not a flinch. The suited men around him muttered praise at the sight and heat stung Kyrie's cheeks. Hendrix stared at him blankly, then asked, "Are you unwell? There wasn't much heat to that strike, you must be fatigued. I always strike weakly when I'm tired."
The heat in Kyrie's cheeks blossomed until his whole head burned as he swung again and again. He struck spitefully. A hook to the jaw for his mother. An uppercut to the liver for his father. Flurries for the years at the orphanage. He punched until his fist cried and his eyes ached, then punched some more.
Hendrix stood through it all, then carefully raised his right hand and flicked Kyrie like a gnat. The force flew Kyrie across the room with far less grace than an insect, and his body shattered the conference room table as he landed through it. Splinters of wood burned his back as he howled in a non-physical pain.
The room grew silent as his howl ceased, and Mr. Carlile coughed before he spoke. "I'd hoped to warm you up to the idea first, but this is Dave. He'll be your assistant on your mission to defuse this coup. Think of him as a sidekick."
Kyrie spit blood and laughed. "Dave, really? You think you can change the hair from purple to green, change up the name, and everyone will buy it?" He thrust a finger toward Hendrix and yelled, "That's fucking Hendrix, don't you try to tell me it isn't."
Dave's eyes widened and he raised his brows. "Hendrix?" He whispered.
Mr. Carlile held his palm toward Kyrie and said, "That man did exist once, but no longer. Ms. Creopatra vanquished his tyranny, and his reign ended. Can we discuss logistics of the mission now."
"You've gone senile old man. You gone fucking senile if you think that'll fly. That shit might work on you, but I'm not buying it." The blood steadied in Kyrie's head as a thought came to mind. "Why isn't he dead?"
"Ms. Creopatra, in her infinite kindness saw Dave through the fog of Hendrix, and offered him a change at redemption. Once she'd trampled and dispersed that fog, Dave gladly took her up on the offer. We erased all fogginess from him, and now he possesses a clear future."
Kyrie cackled. "So that's what this is all about. That's why the others gave Creopatra what she had coming." He sneered. "They looked past the prior corruptions, but this was the heavy straw on the camel's back, huh?"
"We need someone of Dave's power to remedy this situation before it shatters the publics trust in us. Whether heroes, police, or government, the average citizen requires stability. The longer this coup continues, the more our nation is threatened."
"So we're unleashing the greatest psychopathic killer in history? That'll reassure them. Let me do us all a favor and just kill him myself," Kyrie said, summoning lightning to his fists once more.
Mr. Carlile raised his brow and said, "I doubt you could. You lack the power to do so." Before Kyrie could chirp back he raised a finger. "For you to kill Dave, you'd have to surpass his power. Your government only needs someone as powerful as Dave to thrive. Do with that information what you will."
"And no punishment will come if I do what I want with it?"
Mr. Carlile nodded, "You'll learn any punishment can be voided if you serve you nation faitfully." He turned toward Dave and whispered, "Sorry to speak of you like you're not here, good man. Please excuse your supervisor, he can be a tad brash."
Dave smiled. "I'm not worried. If those punches were his attempt to kill me, I'd say I can sleep well at night."
Mr. Carlile smiled and pointed at the two of them. "Then shake. This is the start of a beautiful partnership. As a citizen I feel safer already."
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"I now pronounce you, husband and husband. Whichever of you is the bride, kiss the husband". A gentle laugh danced from the crowd to the high walls of the church, before it was destroyed by the screams, shouts and applause of a family, friends, and those who occupied a space of honor that, despite barely knowing the betrothed, they had been deemed fit to watch this monumental step in their lives.
The wedding was over quickly, and the guests filed out. The third ceremony performed that day. The priest, who spoke the words over each couple, sat in a hastily prepared office, while he worked through the banal realities of owning a 500 year old building. Letters detailing cracked walls, listed architecture, crumbling foundations and, of course, the utter scorn of his peers that he would perform same-sex ceremonies.
The footsteps echoed through his church, and he welcomed the distraction, leaving behind the scrawled piles of architecture, construction and religious fundamentalism. He met a young women, who he found stood at the alter, admiring the cross, complete with the suffering, emaciated body of the Lord himself.
"It's 427 years old, you know", he said. He walked beside her, and gestured to the inscription, half of which had been stolen by time. "In Christ, we find forgiveness", he translated the worn Latin. She seemed interested, looking up at him with dark eyes and a strong jaw. She did not cover her shoulders before entering the church, a transgression punishable by death when this cross was first crafted, but now, the Church had learned to be more lenient. He noticed the weapon at her hip, and the thin lines around her shoulders - the evidence of intense exercise over many years. How did he see those things? It felt as if, in those moments, he saw the world through the eyes of another.
"We do not know the rest of the inscription, it was charred in a fire 233 years ago. But those who wrote about this place, spoke of the quote, and said it brought them peace. I have spent the past 8 years searching, and found nothing. I suppose I must settle for forgiveness". She smiled.
"And what must you be forgiven for, Father?". The priest knew that behind her eyes was something cold, calculating. He had seen the look before, perhaps on the faces of the saints carved into the walls of the Church. Something in his mind spoke to him, and told him that she had the capacity for terrible violence. But all that stood in front of him was a woman who enjoyed exercise. Sweat grew at his brow, and something clawed inside his chest, writhing and screaming, threatening and howling.
"I...". He knew his sins were uncountable. That his every waking moment would be poisoned by shadows of memories, cast across his mind like a silhouette play that rendered only a fraction of the story. And he knew, looking at her, that this was what he could sense. That the shadows, stretched and haunted as they were, were once cast by her. He stepped back, and she turned to face him, because he realized that she too, had been analyzing him.
"Who are you?". The words were hoarse. The dry, dusty walls of the Church seemed stifling, sucking every drop of moisture from the air, from his skin, from every crevice of his mind, until all that was left inside was an emptiness, a desert, begging for life, begging for a chance to let something grow. Her smile was gone now, replaced by the empty expression of a woman who was entirely focused on her goal.
"I can't go back", he whispered. He didn't know from where the words came. Back to what? To where? Her eyes widened. "You remember?". Her hand rested at her hip now. The lines in her shoulders deepened and flexed, and the Priest realized he could smell the adrenaline in her blood. "You remember don't you? You know? It didn't work!".
In the darkness that followed, The Priest imagined himself in front of the gates, looking up at a long staircase that projected out into the heavens. It was far, but each breath filled his body with a youth he had not known for a lifetime, and he knew that all he had to do, was climb, but a voice echoed across the empty clouds. In fact, two voices.
*"You're here because they have finally betrayed you?".*
*"The memory wipe didn't work, did it?"*
*"No, your scientists are as clumsy as your operatives. It didn't work"*
*"So you spend your days, hidden here. Why? Why a Priest?"*
A laugh danced along the plains and the Priest knew that he could not climb the stairs, not before he knew the conversation, but the longer he stayed, the weaker his legs became. Every syllable, every sound, shook the life out of his joints.
*"He's the Priest. I spend my days in peace. I made him."*
*"We knew about your powers, but this? You MADE him?"*
*"Agent. I like my life here. But you have found me, and that means they will too. So perhaps I shall begin again. But for that, dear agent, you too, will have to forget."*
The Priest fell to his knees, his strength finally failing. He looked at the first of the steps, and dragged himself forward, but found that his hands passed through the clouds. Before long, he was falling, aimlessly, eternally, through darkness and rain and smoke, and he knew that his desire to know, his lust for knowledge, had damned him to whatever fate lingered at the bottom of his decent.
**Three years later, in Southern Italy**
*"Father, I must insist. The Church will not allow you to marry these two women. It is wrong".* The young nun, who had been born into the habit, pleaded with the father. He stood two feet taller than her, and she clung to the side of his robe, making no effort to slow the tears dripping onto the floor of the half rotten Church.
The town around the Church had been burned out in the war. A war that still raged in the African continent, the last of the holdouts. The Church was the only thing that remained standing, and it now housed hundreds of homeless villagers.
He smiled, and placed his hand on hers, and knew that if there was ever a time, a chance, to make amends for the hidden guilt that sat heavily on his conscience, a chance to remedy the dark dreams that haunted his midnight hours, of bloodied women, dragged through churches, and buried in unmarked graves, this was the time and the place. This was the time and the place.
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jvvz46d
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jvvo950
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[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.
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I would have dismissed the woman on my doorstep as a harmless nutter, but she knew things about my childhood and my parents. Details Mom had kept to herself for years and years. She only told me everything after I found some old photos in the attic of my father with another woman, holding a baby in her arms that could only be me.
"I wanted him," she said now. More than twenty years later, she didn't look a day older than she'd been in those photos. "I wanted a life by his side as his wife and the mother of his children. But he wouldn't leave your mother. Even as he swore to me that there was no love between them anymore."
He would say anything and swear blind by whatever you held sacred to get his own way. I knew that firsthand. Cursing him would have been entirely reasonable even though the right thing to do was walk away and never think about him again. Cursing my mother would have been wrong, but an understandable line of thought.
But she'd done neither.
"My father was no prize, ma'am," I only said.
She nodded fervently. "I know that now. But I was so young back then, so unreasonably fixated on what I thought was mine... He didn't love me. My passion for him came to nothing. So I cursed you to a loveless, passionless life. I'm so sorry..."
"Wait, hold on," I said as she started to literally wring her hands. "I had a wonderful childhood. Sure, there were hard times, but Mom never made me feel like a burden. She loved me."
The witch shook her head. "I didn't curse anyone else. Just you."
I went to shut the door in her face again, but it just wouldn't close. When I looked down, there was a wedge-shaped barrier of red energy propping the door open. A literal magic doorstop.
"If you'd just-" she began.
"Why," I cut her off, speaking through gritted teeth, "would you think that I don't love *anyone?*"
"Listen!" The witch shouted. "You care about your mother, you care about your friends. But have you ever wanted something more? A deeper connection? Someone to give yourself to in every way?"
I stared at her. "Why?"
She nodded as though I'd proven her point. "Exactly. But I can undo it. You won't be a stunted child anymore. You can experience the whole range of human-"
"No."
"But..." She sounded lost, like she hadn't expected this answer. "I have to rebalance the scales. I took those chances from you."
I rolled my eyes. "And I might not have chosen to take those chances anyway. You can't say for sure. So you took nothing. There's nothing to balance. Go now before I call the police for trespassing."
The magical doorstop disappeared. That sudden lack of opposing force made my door slam shut. But she didn't leave just yet.
"Or maybe there was nothing for the curse to take away," she muttered. Just loud enough for me to hear. "Heartless girl."
I waited until I heard footsteps receding away before smiling. That diagnosis was nothing new to me.
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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.
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mewuk14
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mewly5n
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[WP] The Gods have come to a consensus and have decided to take back that fire thing that was stolen from them. Man can no longer contain, control or create fire. Fire is once again solely the domain of The Gods
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It was too late. As the humans grappled with the new unpredictability of fire, they had already invented work arounds. Radiators powered by electric boilers, convection hobs, even electric cars neglected the need for internal comubstion engines. The humans hadn‘t been planning to shift so soon but coal and gas were rapidly phased out in favour of renewable sources like hydroelectric power, wind turbines, solar panels and even nuclear power plants. Nuclear power had never been the gods‘ domain, that was solely a human invention. There were no riots (anymore). The damage had been fixed and the humans were recovering.
„I mean, you‘ve got to admire their ingenuity,“ Hepheastus commented, staring down at the cities.
Zeus scowled. „No, I don‘t. How the hell did they manage this?“
Athena leaned back in her chair. „humans have found their own ways to replicate godly power. It‘s crude but effective.“
Zeus‘ scowl deepened. Had he been limited to mortal form, this would not have been possible. But he emanated anger and frustration. „Then do something about it! These humans think they can match godly power? They think they can make us redundant!?“ Zeus grabbed his bolt and, in a fit of rage, threw it straight the large ciry beneath them. The Bolt hurtled down before veering off into a lightning rod. The Bolt shot down the grounded structure and dissipated harmlessly in the ground.
Zeus stared. He growled. Then he looked up at the gods staring at him. He looked down, mortified that such a crude method had rendered his rage harmless.
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I was at the trash can again. I just can't help myself. I know it's dangerous, but it's so pretty. I thought feeding my lighter some old newspaper would give me a quick hit- until I saw that man at the side.
"Taking in a little flame, Jimmy?" The man said.
"Who the hell are you?", I asked him.
"I'm stronger than anyone you can think of. I am one of the Gods of this world. And if you're going to use fire for this, then we have no choice but to take fire back from you."
I shook my head. "That's not possible. This will teach you!" I took out my lighter- and nothing happened as the man shook his head. "Uh, uh, Jimmy- you're in a world without fire. All you've got is a simple gas-spewer...not that it'll help you."
"That isn't going to stop me that easily!" I headed to my car and tried to aim- but the car wouldn't stop.
"Sorry, son- that car needs the chemical reaction to run that can only come from fire...not that it'll help you!" Suddenly, I was surrounded by a big hunk of metal, sand, and thin rubber. "Though it doesn't matter since most of the pieces of the car get made from- you guessed it, fire!"
This guy really needs to get it now- but I'm so hungry. "I need some energy and I'll give you what's what, crumb-bum!" I headed to the soda shop for a burger- and got raw meat and grain.
"Sorry, that delicious burger needed to be made with- you guessed it, fire!"
"I'll fix you yet..." Just then, the sky went super dark and cold. "Oh, hope you don't freeze to death- what's the sun but a big mass of incandescent gas- set off with, you guessed it, fire!"
I felt myself freezing. "N-no...come back, fire! Come back..."
...and then, I was in my bed, the covers off of me. "...come back, fire...come-come back..."
I bolted upright and needed to check. The candle near my bed still worked. "It was all a dream. But I'm glad I live in a world with fire to help with all of our needs! I'll never risk losing it again!"
*The preceding filmstrip was brought to you by the National Fire Council. Fire: Making your life better since Prometheus stole it in ancient times.*
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j3beaar
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j3axrmy
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[WP] Aphrodite is talking to Ares. "Y'know, Persephone gives Hades flowers everyday. I wish you'd do that." The next day, Ares goes to the Underworld and gives Hades flowers. "Yeah, I'm not really sure why Aphrodite wanted me to do this, but here you go."
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"...I... thank you?" Hades awkwardly held onto bouquet, glancing between it and Ares, "Did... did she specify these are for someone, or...?"
"I have no idea, she started talking about Percy giving you flowers and told me I should do it too." The god of war shrugged, standing gormlessly in front of his fellow god's desk, and Hades looked back to the flowers. Was... was Ares coming on to him, or something? After a second he realized how ridiculous that was; he and the god of war worked together closely but despite what the mortals believed (thanks Zeus) the other gods weren't up to any ridiculous shenanigans... mostly. Honestly though, these two were probably the least equipped to handle any mysteries regarding romance. "I... well tell her I said thank you, I guess?"
Ares gave a flummoxed shrug and departed from Hades' realm, and the god of death just as awkwardly began the search for a vase to put the blooms in that Persephone's flowers did not already occupy, trying to think of the message behind the gift...
\-----
Ares stepped back onto Mt. Olympus and was almost immediately accosted by an excited looking Aphrodite, the woman nearly bouncing on her feet, "Sooooo..."
"Y-Yes?" She leaned in close.
"A little birdy told me you were out collecting flowers\~."
"Yes? Yes, I delivered them already." As she blinked in confusion Ares took a step back.
"Wait what? I've been here all day and haven't received anything..." Okay now what the Styx was she on about?
"Why would I send them to you?" Aphrodite stared at Ares in confusion for a long, silent moment before Zeus' voice suddenly rang out from around the corner.
"Dite, why in my name did my brother just send me a load of flowers claiming you started this..?"
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"...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!"
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j3cathe
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j3axrmy
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[WP] Aphrodite is talking to Ares. "Y'know, Persephone gives Hades flowers everyday. I wish you'd do that." The next day, Ares goes to the Underworld and gives Hades flowers. "Yeah, I'm not really sure why Aphrodite wanted me to do this, but here you go."
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“What not-on-earth has happened here?” said Dionysus, surveying the Underworld. He had expected to bring the party to the grey void but was instead presented with vast swathes of colourful life.
“It’s all your brother’s fault!” raged Hades, emerging from behind a particularly large sunflower. His throne was surrounded by pots and flowers of every variety found on earth.
“For some reason he gave me an enormous bunch of flowers and it seems that word got around and now…” he waved his hands towards the line of recently arrived dead being processed after crossing the Styx. More than half were carrying floral tributes.
“Ares and Aphrodite are waging botanical warfare on my realm…”
*Flower power*, Dionysus thought but, wisely, kept to himself.
“…Charon wants a bigger boat and Cerberus has hayfever!”
“What does your wife think?”
On cue, Persephone swept into the throne room humming happily. She scooped up as many more bunches of flowers as she could and skipped towards their living quarters.
Dionysus roared with laughter, thumped Hades on the back and swayed slightly.
“Don’t worry, uncle,” he replied, failing to maintain a straight face. “I didn’t care for this fermented grape juice at first but I grew to love it.” He took a large swig of his flagon of wine, dripping red juice into his beard.
Hades paused, looking around the array of colours and taking in the scents. He felt his iron will bend slightly.
\-----
The gardens of the Underworld became renowned and are regularly visited by all but one of the Olympians. However, be careful not to mention them to Aphrodite as she will fly into a jealous rage.
Mortal souls close to the journey to the Underworld now look forward with hope as they will soon see the most beautiful gardens in all existence.
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"...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!"
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jad5gd5
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jacyum6
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[WP] "One drip of this poison is enough to kill a whale." The scientist points towards a table, but the beaker isn't there. Instead a silly coffee cup shaped like a beaker sits. You lower the not coffee cup from your mouth. Tastes like lemon-lime.
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I hadn’t heard from Carl in years. He was my best friend in university, and all the best stories from that time involved him. Like the time he mixed drinks at a pre-finals party and everyone turned lemon-yellow and got a pass on the vector calculus. Or the time he gave Cindy, the self-proclaimed “Biology Bimbo”, some sort of confidence booster before her big presentation that she aced. She took great pride making sure Carl couldn’t walk for the week after. Or the collection of beaker-shaped coffee mugs, and the misunderstandings those caused. So when I got the email inviting me to his parent’s mountain retreat, I couldn’t book time off work fast enough.
The Canadian Rockies are amazing -- tall, jagged spires of rock clawing triumphantly at the blue, Albertan summer sky. When he wasn’t at the research institute on the Pacific Coast -- something to do with whales, I think -- he spent his time at his parent’s old cabin. I grinned remembering the ragers we threw here. Carl and I made a great team back then -- he was the brains, and I was the charm.
Carl welcomed me with his trademarked shy smile as I pulled up the lane to the cabin. It looked completely different than the last time I was here. Originally, it could have charitably been called a shack, ramshackle and fresh out of a horror movie. Now, it was an almost palatial lodge; multistory and open with tall, glass windows.
“You came, Tom! I’m so happy, please, come in, come in!” I hugged my old friend -- I was one of the few he afforded this luxury. “Carl, my man, it’s been too long, you look great! What did you do to my cabin, you’ve ruined it!”
“I’m sorry, Tom. As you can see, I have some good news, and some bad news.” We shared a laugh over our inside joke almost older than our friendship. “I… uh… I needed some extra space. I loved the view. So, I made a few changes, nothing major… Uh… come in, I’ll show you around. I… I’ve made a breakthrough.”
My feet kept following Carl to his chalet while my mind stopped. He said, “breakthrough”. Carl’s failures were far more successful than anything I’d consider a life victory. But he always called them “failures”. He’d never used the b-word before: refused to, in fact. It courted disaster, he claimed.
After a quick trip to the kitchen -- I was dying for a coffee before even getting here, and he still had the novelty mugs -- we ended up in his laboratory. Of course, Carl has a laboratory in his remote, mountain retreat. It wasn’t the first time I accused Carl of being a mad scientist in jest. But the b-word kept my mouth shut. Absently, I put my mug down on the laboratory countertop and waited.
“Uh, so Tom, you may not know it, but uh I’ve been working with orcas. Lovely creatures, not the killers everyone thinks. I’ve been working on a formula to increase their intelligence. Most of them, even one drop of the solution, caused immediate death of the whales. But this one, this beaker holds the breakthrough.” The brown-black liquid sloshed in the beaker in his hand as he triumphantly waved it.
Swept up in the moment, I grabbed my coffee mug; it was fuller than I thought. I raised it to toast his victory. “Congratulations, Carl! That’s amazing!” I took a deep swig, the pleasantly sweet, lemon-lime liquid coursed down my throat. The caffeine roared through my mind, awaking me.
The look on Carl’s face froze me. His eyes were wide with fear; his mouth falling, falling open; the rest of the colour draining from his pale, gaunt face. A healthy face, though, with not even a trace of the facial scleroderma that killed his father.
“What? How did you turn my coffee into lemonade?” I checked my mug, the brown-black liquid swished around the graduated flask. Oh. Carl’s novelty mugs didn’t have precision measurements of a real Erlenmeyer flask. The refractive index of the borosilicate glass should have given it away as well, or the heft, or even that this glass was room temperature instead of piping hot.
“Tom, a drop of that beaker was enough to kill a whale!”
I already knew that. In my mind, I could see the chemical reactions in the orca’s biochemistry as its brain tissue surged and expanded, as the creature’s encephalon grew, as the Vitamin A became toxic to their enhanced minds and killed them. I could feel the terror as their last thoughts knew how and why they were dying and how powerless they were to stop it. I could tell by the swish of the liquid in the beaker that Carl -- poor, slow, dumb Carl -- was still years away from his breakthrough.
“Carl, I have some good news, and I have some bad news”.
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Authors note: I tried something different, a bit darker, hope you like it!
​
​
*Three days ago - The oceanic life research facility (OLRF) - Mariana Trench division, Indonesia.*
“Fascinating,” Amelia said.
“What’s that?” Daniel asked sipping his coffee, his earbuds in his ears like always.
“I said,” Amelia raised her voice. “Fascinating!”
“What’s fascinating?” Daniel asked taking another sip of his coffee.
“The liquid that new species of fish produces, the one we discovered last month,” Amelia said with annoyance. “One single drop of the liquid can kill a whale… What are you even doing now?”
“Drinking my coffee, with milk finally,” He answered.
“What milk, no one bought milk once again,” Amelia said.
“What was this then?” Daniel asked shaking the empty beaker.
Amelia froze instantly, could it be? No one could be that stupid to pick a beaker with an unknown liquid from the laboratory table, right? She thought to herself. Then again Daniel was, well Daniel the IT guy, he never really cared much about anything, living life on reserve power.
“Where did you find it?” Amelia rushed towards him.
“Here,” He pointed to the table where liquid from the fish stood minutes ago. “It tastes kinda funny though. Which kind is this, don’t tell me they mike out of limes now?”
“You idiot!” Amelia yelled.
“What?”
“You drank the poison?” Amelia frantically looked around the lab, hoping she was wrong.
“What? WHAT?” Daniel yelled the information only hiding him now. “No I took the white liquid from here, the milk.”
“That is the poison,” Amelia said. “It was white, like milk yes, but what the hell Daniel, do you even use your brain?”
“Oh my God, Oh my God, what do I do now?” He started pacing around the lab.
Amelia took a deep breath, trying to stay calm despite the panic rising within her. "There's nothing we can do now," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You should have been dead by now."
"What do you mean, dead?" Daniel asked, his face going pale. "Amelia, please tell me you're joking."
"I wish I were," Amelia said. "That liquid is highly toxic, and there's no known antidote. Well, we have just discovered it."
Daniel sank into a chair, his hands trembling. "So, what's going to happen to me?" he asked, his voice barely audible.
"Maybe it's not toxic to humans," Amelia said, her voice rising with hope. "Let's get you to the medical bay and see what we can do."
She helped Daniel to his feet, and they rushed out of the lab and down the long corridor toward the medical bay. Amelia was in a state of panic, her mind racing with all the possible outcomes. What if the poison really was lethal to humans? What if there was no cure, no way to save Daniel's life? Was she to blame? Was him?
As they reached the medical bay, the door slid open, and they were greeted by the medical team on duty. Amelia explained the situation to the doctor in charge, who immediately started examining Daniel.
"What do you say he drank, exactly?" the doctor asked.
“New poison from the new fish we discovered at the bottom of Mariana Trench,” Amelia asked. “It’s highly toxic, he should have been dead already.”
Doctor just nodded and continued to examine him. “He looks just fine, his vitals are up a little bit, but that could be from the panic. Let’s leave him here overnight and we will monitor him.” The doctor said.
Amelia nodded and said goodbye to Daniel leaving for her lab, hoping he would be ok.
*Two days ago - The oceanic life research facility (OLRF) - Mariana Trench division, Indonesia.*
\> 08:30 AM: SOS signal towards the mainland.
\> 08:36 AM: SOS signal towards the mainland.
\> 08:38 AM: All contact was lost with The oceanic life research facility.
*One day ago - The oceanic life research facility (OLRF) - Mariana Trench division, Indonesia.*
\> Still no contact with the OLRF
\> Rescue teams deployed to the OLRF location, one day to arrive.
*Present day - The oceanic life research facility (OLRF) - Mariana Trench division, Indonesia*.
“What do you think happened, Chief?” Henry asked his commander, Norris.
“No idea, maybe the power is just out?” He said.
“Don’t they have like a gazillion backup generators?” He asked.
“I don’t, I guess we will see in a few minutes,” Norris answered and turned towards the side of the chopper, looking out of the window.
As choppers drew closer they could finally see the OLRF in the middle of the thick forest. Seeing it this up close, the facility completely dark, a feeling of unease came over Henry, something felt way off. As they came closer and closer, they could notice that the windows on the second floor were broken and the front door of the facility was busted. Looking closer Henry saw what looked like a white lab coat in front of the building, and something red around it. No, it was a body in the coat, a body missing its limps laying in a pool of its own blood.
​
Like the story? Check out my sub for more r/LukasWrites
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jqyqj1g
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jqy7rew
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[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.
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"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."
|
In the back of my mind, I always knew it would end this way. I just expected it to be more… violent.
Instead, it was a small bite to the ankle when I walked too close to one I thought had already been eliminated. The bite was so small, I didn’t even bleed. A rookie mistake, and the costliest mistake I could make.
I haven’t even had time to be sad about it. In fact, I’m pretty pissed. I have managed to fight my way out of a hoard, tear apart one with a freshly broken arm, and sneak away unnoticed when a blind one entered my bedroom in the middle of the night. But the one that took me down was missing its entire lower half of its body and barely managed a nibble before I put a bullet in its brain.
So now I’m here, a mile away from my family, sitting on a bench of one of the old bus stops. I surprisingly didn’t meet any undead on my walk out here – not that it would matter at this point – but I feel naked without my usual arsenal of knives and pistols that I have learned to keep on me over the past two years.
I’ve lost track of how much time has gone by, but it certainly feels like longer than 20 minutes. It’s probably the anticipation of it, making time speed up, but I find it hard to believe the feeling of my flesh burning hasn’t set in yet.
I glanced up at the sun, trying to determine what time it was. It seemed to be after 4pm, and I thought back to how long ago I had been bit. The sun’s angle wasn’t really my priority at the time, but I vaguely remember the high angle it had while I was saying my goodbye to my husband, and the way the shadows were cast on his face as I burned that image into my brain to carry me through the rest of my short life.
Wait.
That would mean I had said goodbye over two hours ago. Impossible, since I was bitten a few minutes before that.
I jumped off the bench, rubbing my knuckles into my eyes as if that would change the position of the sun when I next looked at it. It didn’t.
I glanced at my skin, which still looked full of color. I didn’t feel any burning under my skin, signaling the turning of my blood. If I didn’t know any better, I would have looked and felt as if nothing happened.
I reached down to pull up my pant leg to check the wound. Maybe, since it wasn’t that deep, it was taking longer than usual for it to turn me.
At my ankle was a small scratch, but no sign of broken skin or a bite.
“No!” I gasped, dropping my pant leg, and stumbling backwards.
It was impossible. I had felt the bite. Sure, it wasn’t a big one, and I didn’t bleed, but it had to have broken the skin enough, right?
Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I lifted my pant leg again, wiping at the spot with the fabric of my jeans to see if I could uncover a hidden deeper scratch perhaps. Nothing else was there.
I glanced up, unsure of what to do next.
Was I infected?
Was I safe?
There was no way to tell. But I had to go back to camp, just in case. I couldn’t risk being out here any longer, on the slight chance that maybe everything was going to be okay.
Tears sprang to my eyes, and the thought that I might be able to see my husband again almost made me collapse.
A rustle from the tree line behind the bench dried my tears and made my blood run cold. I took several slow steps backwards, putting as much distance between myself and the trees without making too much noise. I reached for my knife, and my stomach dropped when I realized I didn’t have it.
A male zombie emerged from the trees, not yet spotting me, but aware of my smell.
I took another step back, hoping I could make it to the other side of the street before I would run for my life to camp.
The zombie turned to me, his undead eyes locking with mine.
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