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j9ml9n6
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j9m2sab
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[WP] It finally happened. Through means not yet known, everyone's physical beauty reflects their innermost selves; the kind but portly girl is now an absolute bombshell, the asshole CEO is now hideous, and so on. Nothing prepared you for what you came face to face with in the mirror, though.
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"Hey, punk! Whatcha lookin at?" I glanced over at the people who, I suppose, were trying to harass me. I hadn't been looking at them, as a matter of fact. Didn't even know who they were. But now looking at them... hmm. The Shift hadn't been kind to them. There was little doubt that before it they were horrible people, and that certainly hadn't changed for the better.
"I wasn't? I've just been exploring-"
"Oh, don't give me that! I hate people staring at me!" I tilted my head, causing me to need to push my hair out of my face, off the face mask I wore. I'd become largely androgynous after the Shift. I didn't really mind. It let me see both sides of the line, so to speak, without committing to either.
"...What are you looking for, exactly? I doubt you're harassing me for no reason."
"I hate quiet people," he growled.
"So you want me to shout my head off?" I looked around. "Seems like a bad idea for me to do that in the middle of a crowded street." His buddies chuckled a bit, but his face puckered like he'd had a lemon.
"No, idiot. You're going to buy me something really nice."
"I am?"
"Yes. And then you're going to thank me for not pounding you into the dirt where you belong."
"I'm not interested, but thanks for the offer."
"I'm not asking." Ah. A belligerent dude with a micro-brain. Well, I had ways to deal with that.
"Ah, you should have said so earlier! But, first..." I held my hand out, in a sort of "hand-it-over" motion. "Would you please give me your name?" The man opened his mouth, but then paused. The way I spoke sounded... odd.
"...Why?"
"How else am I going to know who to give my gift to?" I took a step forwards, reaching for my mask. "And, while you're at it..." I pulled off my mask. "Would you give me your face, too?" The man and his friends screamed, absolutely booking it. I laughed, putting the mask back over my face. I wasn't sure why the Shift had replaced my face with an endless black void... But it was surprisingly fun to pretend to be something supernatural.
Well, that was a fun diversion. Now where was I? Ah, yes. Heading to that café I heard so much about. I think I'll treat myself today.
|
The world seemed to explode in an instant, whatever this sudden change was it broke society.
Notifications rattled off on my phone across the room as the TV news broadcast covered the breaking news..only with drawings replacing the usual live-action news casters. "-some reports believe that what has really occurred was the so-called inner beauty of people is what is now visible, though scientists have yet to weigh in-" They showed some celebrities in before and after pictures, politicians, and even a well known CEO of major cosmetics brand speaking on how their sales have suddenly skyrocketed.
"I wonder how I look now" I thought aloud.
"Innermost self?" The idea bounced around the room.
I had never been one to get introspective, neutral to most everyone I dont even have a point of reference.
"screw it" I whispered sitting up and walking towards the bathroom. The mirror's presence held some new sense of weight as I approached it.
Glaring into the reflection, first from afar then closer and closer until my breath fogged the pane. It was...uninteresting...no significant creases in the face, no blemishes or beauty marks, the color was just as neutral a tone as you could get. Nothing stood out or drew the eye, even the eyes had become a bland brown from the hazel they used to be. My hair looked to be that generic brown trimmed short like you would expect for someone who had to dress for the office each morning. The rest of my new body was as well, just neutral.
I was a walking advertisement of normality. Uninteresting in every way. Generic.
Unsure of what I had expected, I returned to my room, took a seat again, checked my alarm, and went to sleep. After all, cant be late to the office tomorrow.
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m71zeo2
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m71clyg
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[WP] Guy lives alone in a world full of people, no one can see or hear him, he lives his days alone until one day he find another person, another person alone in this world with him. They fall in love but then he phases back into the world, everyone can see him again, but he can’t see her.
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My shrine has always been simply.
A small wooden structure, with a carved deer resting on it.
It's centuries old, and small, but it's still in perfect state.
Perks of being a Goddess' shrine, despite it being a bit...humbling, compared to the shrines and temples of others.
But I am happy, as I have one believer, that for decades, have been visiting it every single year without missing.
It's heartwarming and at the same time saddening, as I watched the little girl grow old, and turn into an elderly woman.
"Goddess, I am here again." I heard the little girl's, well she's an elderly woman now, voice.
The little carved deer lit up, as I descended onto the shrine.
But this time...she didn't smile seeing the deer lit up.
"When I stumbled upon this small shrine, I was lost, and scared.
The warmth given by the little deer was what kept me safe, and then the deer you sent to guide me out was what saved me." she said, and I listened.
"Over the years, many other religions have risen and fell in my town...but none could make me feel like how you did.
Thank you." she continued, as she bowed.
I felt...sad, for I could feel the life leaving her.
"T-today, is my last day in this world, and I hope...
I can continue worshipping you in the next one." she said, as her eyes closed.
For decades...this mortal worshipped me, allowing the forest to remain healthy.
For decades, she never missed a year of worship, being faithful and loyal.
The forest came to life around her, as the trees withered.
The woman's body changed, slowly turning back into that of a young woman.
"W-What's going on?" she muttered, looking at the shrine.
The carved deer lit up, sending my parting gift to her.
"Take care of the forest...my priestess." I transmitted, as half my divinity was given to her.
Her eyes lit up, and her entire body changed.
She became holy, and got even closer to nature.
"I shall slumber for a while, but don't worry, I trust you will do great." I transmitted.
The woman knelt, and prayed to me.
My last memory before going to slumber was of her promising me to become a Great Goddess, and that my forest shall cover the entire Eastern Continent.
With that...I felt satisfied, even if I hurt my origin divinity to give her a second chance...
|
It's already 2100. 2100... And My faith has already been so swiftly forgotten.
Crosses, they used to adorn My houses, everywhere across the world. Well now, they don't. My faith has been so forsaken and despised, that they don't even use "+" for addition in Mathematics anymore. They just use the word "plus" or the phrase "added to".
The last Bible was printed in 2073. The last hymn was sung in 2076, and the last praise song sung in 2079. Earth's last church officially ceased to exist in the same year, 2079.
Since then all worship of Me has ceased. No one remembers Jehovah. The Trinity. Yahweh. Jesus Christ the Saviour.
Except you, dear child. My dear dear daughter in spirit, Deborah Mary Samynathan.
I thank you for remembering Me. For still coming to this small alcove that has a small stone cross in it, to pray to Me and beg Me to have mercy on this increasingly depraved world. You give Me hope. Hope that among mankind, My beloved creations, good may still silently exist. Hope that this good may yet rise again one day.
And now this year, you have come to visit Me again. It is Easter. And I remember that now you are 21. You are grown now. You are an adult, and I think you are ready for My gift to you.
Take now, the strength of Samson, the power of Elijah, the insight of Paul, the righteousness of Moses, the integrity of Joseph and the triumphancy of Joshua. Receive, now, SPIRIT.
Now, go forth My faithful daughter. Declare My faith and lend voice to that which has been silent. I will go and wage war against Lucifer, who will seek to stop you. I know, this means that you may stop feeling My presence near you for awhile.
But do not fear, dear daughter. We will be separated only for a little while. Once the victory is won by the power of My blood, I will reveal myself to this fallen world. And you will be vindicated for your faith in Me.
Be blessed now, dear daughter, and go forth to victory.
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k1myvgr
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k1m8wfu
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[WP] You accidentally saved a princess from a tower. Now she won't stop following you, blabbing about "true love."
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TW: Indirectly referenced child abuse.
“I don’t want to sound cold-hearted or cruel, but I’m just not interested.”
“But you slew the witch! You freed me from my shackles! The prophecies said that I was to find love with the one who freed me!”
“That’s not how it works.”
I had been arguing with her like this for hours, all the way back from the crumbling stone ruins she called the “tower” to my home town.
I had slain the mean old crone, and I didn’t feel the least guilty about it. She had been killing and kidnapping for ages—I could tell as much by the many bones and stolen wares around her hideout—and finally had picked the wrong traveler.
What I had never expected was the girl I freed. Poor thing.
“Come on, we’re going to need to have a long talk.”
I helped her to keep up as we neared my home. When I grabbed her hand she actually tried to gaze into my eyes and I realized she was trying to make some sort of special moment happen.
“Come on.” I sighed.
When we finally arrived I gently pulled her in.
“You’re back! Oh! Is… she okay?”
My husband greeted me at the door, trying to cover his shock at the condition of my companion at the last moment.
“Princess, this is my husband Jack. Jack, this is ‘Princess Helena of Bartheon’.”
“Hello… your majesty?” He tried, at least.
“I saved her from an old highwaywoman on the way back. Could you give us some time? I think we need to have a good long talk.”
“No problem dear. I can see that you do.” He nodded and moved past us to the door. “Princess.” He politely bowed on the way out.
For her part, Helena looked variously stunned, crushed, and confused as that exchange unfolded.
“Come on, let’s sit down.” I gestured to the simple wooden chairs in my kitchen.
The numb girl obeyed, I sat opposite her.
“I think this is the time to do a more proper introduction. As I told you back there, I’m Mary. Not Princess Mary, not prince, and not knight either. That’s Jack, my husband. I’m a messenger, or sometimes I guard merchants or other messengers. He’s a tailor. Why don’t you tell me a little more about yourself? What was being a princess like?”
It didn’t take a genius to know something was wrong here. I hoped to get to the bottom of it, maybe help her.
“Oh, I was kidnapped by the witch when very young. The witch cared for me from when I was just a child. She was horrible though, but I always knew that my true love would rescue me. She said so, and all of the legends said it was true. And, all of the selfish and nasty people who tried failed. So I knew it was different when I saw you!”
The words poured out of her mouth, I became increasingly ill as I heard them. I had suspicions already. It wasn’t hard to guess, but this confirmed them.
“Helena,” I tried to choose my words carefully “that witch, I truly don’t know, maybe she was a witch, abused you and manipulated you for a very long time. There is no “Kingdom of Bartheon”, no castle for us to ride off to.”
There never was such a place. It was an amalgamation of things from the storybooks that cruel old hag had used to delude this poor thing into keeping hope alive.
I could see that hope dying. If she was even an adult yet then only barely, but the fantasy world she had retreated into, and cultivated so well by her captor, was starting to unwind.
I needed to offer another anchor for that hope.
“But, I do love you. Just not in the way the storybooks said I would. And this can be our castle, and maybe I can help you find another beautiful knight to protect you and get you your own castle one day when you feel ready again.”
She was crying by the time I finished speaking. I lifted her from her own chair onto my lap. She retreated into my shoulder to sob.
“I know dear. It’s alright now. Come on, let’s get you a bath.”
I carried her back to draw water. I knew that I would never understand everything. Where had that crone gotten all of those torn but beautiful gowns and jewelry for her captive off of that old country road? Why hadn’t she sold her to one of her “rescuers “ already?
Maybe she really was a witch, I don’t pretend to understand everything under the sun. I mused on the case as I bathed that poor girl.
I supposed that at the very least, the prophecies came true. In a manner of speaking.
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"But you saved me that means we are supposed to be together its just how it works sir."
"I have a wife I cant take another we've known each other since we were kids, ive known you for about five minutes and in that five minutes you tried to seduce me fifteen different ways, flashed me so that you could claim that now that ive seen you naked bust I owed it to you and have "tripped" into me knocking me down an causing me to accidentally touch your breast as I tried to catch myself, you are out of control and I am taking you back to the kingdom to get you out of my hair so I can go back home to my WIFE who I will love until the end of the gods."
"Fine. I didnt want to have to do this." *Thunk and a fade to black*
As you wake up you find that you are chained in a royal looking bedroom with no weapons and in royal garb rather than you common rags. Confused and scared you look around while trying to escape only to hear the door open and a crazy giggle from the very same princess who knocked you out but now she was covered in something red. "oh hes awake bring her in and bring the children too" She says as her wicked smile becomes more deranged, you soon see you wife being carted in with poorly tended amputations that were sure to get infected and cuts all across the visible parts of her body. "do you still love your wife now that she is nothing but a broken mass of meat? look at my handiwork, not bad right she'll be scarred forever if the infection doesnt take her first, ill do the same to you kids and I will make sure that they don't get any type of treatment at all unless you marry me after all we are meant to be for only my true love could rescue me."
You hear you wife try to say something but she couldnt without her tongue and she couldnt see you with eyes sewn shut so she was looking in the wrong direction to talk to you. *SLAP* "don't try to talk undesirable thats why I ripped your tongue out, so you couldnt try to talk your dear husband out of marrying me!"
"Whats wrong with you?! Why did you have to do that to my wife, and why would I want to marry you now? My answer is still no!" you scream anger filling your vision until you see the princess start to chuckle before she breaks out into a demented laugh.
"Very well I guess you get to watch your kids befall the same fate and that will be your last chance because if you say no after that ill do the same to you stick your wife and kids in the filth cell of the dungeon to ensure they don't make it and we will go down every day so you can see you beloved family slowly rot while they are still alive before the finally die of infection. If you say yes however they will be well tended and will live a painless rich life in another city as "royalty" never to see you again but not in pain and never mistreated." With that you hear screams as your kids are prepared for the torture that was planned.
"Fine fine I-ill do it ill marry you" You say as you watch as your family is torn apart both figuratively and literally.
"oh you can do better than that ask me to marry you don't just say you'll do it." she says unwavering as she is cutting you kids tongues out.
"OK OK Will you marry me?!" you cry as your families bodies are destroyed by this evil soon to be queen.
Only once she finishes making your kids match your wife does she respond "YES, OH MY GOD YES I WILL! YAY! now guards get these things out of our room and dump them into a garderobe and seal it off from both sides after dumping some excrement into it.
"Wait you said-"
"I know what I said but did you really think I would do that honey? who knows what you would've done now we have a wedding to get ready for and then after that we'll consumate our marriage in the same room that your family is in so the last thing they hear is us consumating our marriage." The princess cackled menacingly.
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jmmnhio
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jmmlvpx
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[WP] "You're a...Vampire!? Are you going to suck my blood?" "Ew no. I'm a vampire not a cannibal. Just like regular humans, Vampires are all different. The one the old stories were based on, was just weird. He was a psycho before he was turned too. Tea?"
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"Human blood is overrated, then?"
The vampire shrugged. "I don't know. I've never tried it. Really, I can't remember anyone who has."
That didn't seem right, but then again, who am I to question creatures I know only kids' fairytales about? "So...well...animal blood, then?"
"Of course! And frankly, only the best at this point."
Now there is something I can talk about: food snobbery. I leaned over the fresh cup of tea he had slid between my hands. "All right, then, best blood?"
He laughed, and the tips of his fangs glinted in a way that suddenly looked less ominous and more awkwardly -- and adorably -- out of place. "First, that sounds like you're asking someone what the best food is. There is no best food. What's food mean, anyway? Can you compare an apple to a steak? Or a Pop-Tart to a fresh truffle?"
"Okay, fine." I blew on the tea and tipped a sugar cube into it. "Tell me about how vampires do food."
More laughing, and this time he snorted. I almost cracked up myself -- so much for the stuffy, noble stereotype.
"All right. Well, first, we can eat things other than blood. Like with any ingredient, you make it into things. Blood sausage is a classic -- you know that was absolutely vampires, right?"
"Vampires invented blood sausage?"
"Who else would?"
"I don't know, the kind of ancient people who use every part of the animal?"
"Vampires, trust me." He set his hands on the table, looking a little like the Aliens guy, his smile a little cockeyed. "So, you can put blood in most things. You probably won't like it, but a Pink Pearl Tea is just tea with blood and milk. Good stuff. I think the fanciest blood-meal I've had was seared shark with a tuna blood dipping sauce. Wonderful. That particular restaurant called it Predator and Prey."
"So...fish blood works?"
"Absolutely."
I couldn't help a glance at my tea just to triple-check that it wasn't pink. He smirked.
"If you guys don't feed on humans, mostly, where do vampires come from?"
"It's genetic." He shrugged. "Vampirism doesn't actually show up in a lot of people until they're middle-aged -- well, in years, anyway, they still look awfully youthful -- and so lots of them have children before they realize what's going on."
"So I could be a vampire."
"Sure. You'll know when you lose your canines. They don't reshape themselves; you'll just form a new set and they'll push the others out and descend like when you were a kid and lost your baby teeth."
I give one of my teeth an experimental wiggle. "Mine seem pretty firm." That certainly lends a new meaning to all those weird dreams I have where my teeth fell out, but a lot of people get those, right? "If I wanted to make food for you next time I have a dinner party, what do you suggest?"
"I'll text you some recipes. It's pretty easy to get pigs' blood from H-mart." He dumped a glug of half and half into his tea and swirled it. "You really don't have to, though. We can eat plain human food. It's just that we have to drink some kind of animal blood every other day or so."
"I'm willing to try it. Why not?"
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"And that's why we don't go out in sun. Thought, we should tell you, you've been in the circle for 7 years now, and however much clue we gave you, you just weren't getting it."
Mike looked like he was about to laugh, but stopped midway when Sia flashed her fangs and turned her eyes neon green.
"You're a...Vampire!? Are you going to suck my blood?"
"Ew no. I'm a vampire not a cannibal. Just like regular humans, Vampires are all different. The one the old stories were based on, was just weird. He was a psycho before he was turned too. Tea?"
"Wow," Mike looked blank.
"Hey".
"Give me a break, my brain isn't processing the info fast enough," Mike said accepting the tea.
He took a sip, the another, then another. After finishing his cup, he started, "So, you are telling me that all 6 of you are vampires. Non blood sucking vampires."
"Yes."
"So, you are not like vampires from stories. I mean no blood sucking is cool. But super speed and strength would be awesome too."
"We do have some things in common. And yes that does include speed and strength. First, clear your image of vampires, you have a lot to learn."
"Let me give you a quick one shot," Charlie intergected,
"Super speed, yes.
Super strength, yes.
Sunburn, yes. But not enough to die.
No invitation-no entry, no. That is just a pride thing.
Garlic, no. I still hate it.
Stake at heart, yes. But we die by other means too.
Super healing, yes. But not enough to survive a bomb.
Immortal, technically no. But slow ageing and super healing gives the effect.
Any questions?"
"What do you guys eat, then?"
"That's the bad part. We gotta stick to the thing we first ate after being turned. The system refuses to accept anything else."
"Wow. That must suck."
"Yupp. But not as much as for Betty."
Mike looked at me questioningly.
"Aspirin. Woke up with a headache," I said.
I still feel frustrated. I am the only one of the group who doesn't know their creator. Like, I wouldn't have said no if you would have asked. Being a vamp is cool. But at least you could have told me what to do after I am turned. I was so scared, I didn't know what was happening. Kept puking stuff and had a very bad sunburn. Fortunately, Sia was the nurse at the hospital I had gone and took me under her, taught me vamp stuff.
"You can be a human or a vampire, you will still be in our group. We don't mind. You gotta weigh the ups and downs," Liz said. As soon as she had finished, a realisation stuck to her face. She hesitated. "You still wanna be friends, right"
Mike laughed. "Off course. But I'll still prefer to be a human. I love food. Maybe, I'll change my mind later, I don't know."
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lqispgj
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lqin6eu
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[WP] You are a police officer called to the aftermath of a horror movie scene. While there, you slowly realize the ‘monster/killer’ was the victim and the ‘helpless teens’ were the psychopaths
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I got called at six in the morning by my lieutenant, he sounded shaken which surprised me.
"Freddie, I need you to get down to the docks. It's.. it's a hell of a thing down here and I need every body I can get on this." He explained.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be about twenty. What we got?"
"At least twelve dead, one perp in custody."
"Shooter?" I asked, expecting it to be a yes.
"Umm.. well, no. Pretty much anything but. We have two survivors, too. I don't know what to make of what they're saying." He sounded like he was in shock.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm on my way L.T." I hung up and got myself together. I tried to get myself mentally prepared, if the lieutenant is feeling like this, I knew I couldn't imagine what it was going to be like.
I didn't know how right I was.
—-----
Traffic was light, and as I pulled towards the docs listening to radio chatter I realized why I hadn't been given clearer directions. He meant the whole docks. From the north to south side of the docs was entirely cordoned off. When I pulled up to the barricade and got out I realized we had county deputies, and local branch F.B.I. were pulling up at the same time as me.
I approached the nearest uni from my precinct. I didn't know them by name but had seen him around. He look like he had been to hell and back.
"You, what exactly the fuck is going on here?" I asked, motioning to the county and F.B.I. vehicles.
"Detective, we needed the backup. Lou called for it. It's bad in there, real bad. You're gonna want tiger balm." The uni fished a small tin out of his pocket and held it out.
"It's that bad in there?" I questioned while taking the tin, putting some of the minty balm under my nose.
"Worse. I'll show you the way." The uni took back his balm and lifted the tape, letting me in. He led me to the nearest warehouse.
"As far we can tell, this is where it ended. Perp and survivors are already at the station."
—-----
The uni led me to the door, but it was like some invisible force would let him open it. Like watching a lab rat stare at food that's been used to shock it for conditioning, he just stared at the handle.
"It's alright, I can get the door. Go do your thing." I said to him as I motioned back to the barricade.
"Thank you sir." He said with relief while he scurried away from the door.
I opened the door, expecting a body. I couldn't have gotten myself ready without watching a few slasher flicks first. The entire central area of the warehouse was taped off, forensics was crawling everywhere. The mixed company team trying to work well together, but methods were clearly clashing.
I didn't immediately see the body, first I saw the blood. It was everywhere, like someone had slaughtered a pig in the middle of a shipping warehouse. Once I was closer I saw writing scrawled on the floor in blood, it looked like it was done with a boot.
'OVER' is all it read. I took out my notepad and started writing details, stopping one of our forensics team.
"You get pictures of the writing already?" I asked her.
"Yes, detective." She answered. Her voice was flat. I could tell whatever waited for me through the rest of the docks was going to get worse.
"Where's the body?" I was confused, and I let it show. She responded without a word, but motioned up, above the writing and blood.
My eyes trailed after her direction, and like a macabre pinata I saw it. It dangled in the faint, early morning light filtering through the windows near the ceiling by a chain. I shined my own flashlight at it for a better view. The entirety of the victims abdomen and face looked like it was molded badly out of wet red clay.
"Holy fuck, it looks like they got put through a belt sander..." I couldn't help saying it out loud.
"Freddie, you made it." I heard the lieutenant's voice behind me.
"Told you I would, Jake." Normally, I'd be more formal.
"Yeah, formalities seem a little.. useless right now. It gets worse at the start point, so you know." The lieutenant looked down and nervously rubbed the back of his neck.
"So, give me details, Jake." I pulled out a stick of gum and popped it into my mouth.
"We have four vics that are done up like an art exhibit, two between warehouse two and three and four and five respectively, that look like wrong place wrong time moments. We got this guy here in five, still no ident on him. Two more tableaus in two other warehouses. Three has two of our primary victims, and two has one." He rattled off the details by rote.
"Tableaus? Getting fancy on me, Jake. That totals out to six, what about the other vics, you said at least twelve?" I raised an eyebrow at him.
"Yeah.. yeah I did. There's six bodies in the basement under warehouse one. It looks like a fighting ring or something, it's bizarre. What I'm thinking is that our perp brought people down there and made them fight him, and he beat 'em to death. That's what it's looking like so far anyway. Maybe the kids were trying to throw an illegal party and broke into the wrong basement?" Jake kind of trailed off, it was obvious he was going over the scenes in his head.
"Alright, give me the tour, Lou."
((CONT.))
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**I'll finish this later.**
Derrick and his deputy—Shelton—were responding to a late night call. A potential domestic violence that’d turned to a murder, that’d transformed to a stalker chasing a teenage girl around for days. That’s how stories worked in this line of business. They switched up more than a damn model switches dresses.
He wrinkled his nose at the stink of a dead man in the living room. The joke of that had burned out fifteen years ago for him, now he only felt the reek of rancid eggs and bubbling metal. He’d never gotten used to the sight of the dead, how they lay crumbled eyes still gawking like the man before him, but the little girl on the other side of the room didn’t seem bothered much.
She had a twitchy dart to her brown eyes. Sometimes they looked steely gray when the pale moonlight sliced into the dark room, but that was it. Derrick scribbled that observation and had no intention to act on it. Years worth of mistakes had taught him when to act on assumptions. When to tuck ‘em away. He dropped his notepad and glanced at Shelton, who had that movie star smile the ladies love plastered on.
“Yeah, a passerby called it in,” Shelton said. He lazily waved to the outdoors beyond a window, a graveyard quiet street laid down in front of dense cornfields. The moon made it look like a set from a Stephen King film. Like something might pop out from the gentle sway of those fields at any moment. Shelton raised a puzzled brow. “Imagine you folk don’t get much in the way of visitors ‘round here. Lucky one happened to stroll by.”
“Yeah, we don’t get much. Lucky we did tonight.” Tangie gave a breathless little laugh. Didn’t look like she felt lucky at all, with that nervous little bite at her lip and her hands clasped tight to her chest.
But Derrick pushed that observation out of mind. Everyone reacted differently to danger, and assumptions had proved dangerous on the force. Shelton’s questioning had improved a lot over the past few months. He glanced around the living room, no portraits or signs that any adults stayed here. No sign that anyone else were here but Tangie, except a set of muddy shoeprints that led to the kitchen. But they knew she frequented here now.
Tangie winced a little under the moonlight and ruffled a tangle of hair. Her eyed hardened briefly, then went soft again. “Did the passerby say exactly what they saw happening here?”
Shelton scribbled a bunch of nothing on his notepad, a trick Derrick had taught him. Made it look like he knew more than he probably did. Shelton shrugged, “That’s why we’re speaking with you. Figure you’d know better than any ole passerby.”
Tangie shifted from foot to foot and bobbed her head like music was playing. Could be raw nerves. Could be stress. Could be mental problems. Derrick shook his head, tried to shake off a whisper that she was acting off, before he acted on it and got burnt—again. You should never rush to act on assumptions.
He stepped forward and took the lead from Shelton, snorted the phlegm back up his nose with a growl and smile. Wasn’t as appealing as Shelton’s, based on Tangie’s reaction. “I know has been a mess of a night.” He shook his head slowly at the ground, made a good show of it. At least half of being an officer is acting. Other half was a mix of paperwork, good deeds, and lying. ”We’ll try to get you through this as soon as possible. As you’re still a minor, we’ll need to get reach of a guardian. I’ll need a good number to reach ‘em on. Oh, and is there anyone else in the house?” He added that last question all casual-like as if it weren’t the answer he wanted the most.
“I’d have to check my phone for their numbers and my phone is dead. I’m sorry,” she squeaked. It was silent for a beat while she evaluated him, must have seen a brick wall so she continued, “And there’s no one el—“
Before she could finish Derrick raised a hand. “Muddy shoeprints. At the front door. Imagine there’s at least one boy your parents warned you about that you’d rather not be caught with. We’re a little beyond that.” He nudged a finger to the muddy tracks. By now the dead man’s blood had crept to them and started slushing into it. “No one’s in trouble we just need to get this taken care of. Procedural stuff.”
Tangie’s eyes bulged all bug-like for a second before she settled them quickly. Her sweet smile had become a fine line that aged her well into her twenties. Derrick scribbled. Composed reactions. A liar. Likely an actor as well. A standard teenager by all accounts but so many things were gnawing at him. He didn’t like the decor in the living room, the deer heads mounted on the wall with their beady eyes. He didn’t like the whispers of the corn fields outside or the distance Tangie kept from them. His nerves were screaming.
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jasdbqr
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jarcegj
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[WP]"Halt, foul beast! You shall threaten this town no longer!" Yelled the hero, drawing their blade, an ancient artefact that glowed and became razor sharp in the presence of evil.. except it wasn't only not glowing, but dulled as the hero pointed it at the 8' tall man-wolf huddled in the corner
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"I'm lupine, clearly," the man-wolf sighed, extending his tongue to lick a deadly claw and turn the next page of the book he was reading.
"I said halt, foul beast!" the hero repeated, the flat bit of metal shaking in her hands.
"And I said I'm lupine, not fowl." He paused to glance over his spectacles at the tiny hero. "Oh, wait. You're just being rude, is that it?"
The hero swallowed her fear. "I... I have come to slay evil, to protect my village!"
"Uh huh." The wolf folded his glasses and put them on a shelf. "And I suspect somehow I'm a threat to you?"
The girl-pig shut her eyes and steeled her resolve. "Y-you're going to eat us all if I don't kill you!"
The wolf's mouth opened wide, revealing rows upon rows of sharpened teeth. The hero waited for a howl, perhaps a roar, before the jaw clamped down and straight through her armor.
Instead, the wolf laughed. "Eat you? Oh, sweetheart, you'd barely be an appetizer." He reached over and grasped the tiny hero with his claws, lifting the miniature creature off the ground.
"T-then what's been attacking us at night?" the girl-pig asked.
The man-wolf put the hero gently back upon the ground and adjusted her helmet. "Now that, my dear, sounds more like a potential dinner guest."
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Wolf Man: What?! But I didn't do anything!
Hero: Not you! The evil spirit hiding under you!
A shadow bursts from the floor underneath the wolf man, sending him tumbling into the lower floor where he fell into a table filled with food. The chef was not impressed, for the food was supposed to be taken to the waiting food critic and will surely have dog hair all over them.
The sword suddenly glowed exceedingly bright.
Evil Spirit: Curses! How could I have been found out by this stupid sword-swinging buffoon!
Hero: I might be stupid, but you were not subtle.
Evil Spirit: How?! I am darkness personified! I move in the shadows! I hide in the dreams of men! I am the nightmares that plague your every sle--
Hero: It's midday. All I had to do was follow the large patch of darkness moving on the floor.
Evil Spirit: (silence)
Hero: (silence)
Wolf Man: Ow, I think I have soup in my ears!
Evil Spirit: Shit.
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l9u6g5l
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l9u06qv
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[WP] Write a happy story without conflict. Then with the last sentence, turn it into a horror story.
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Everything was perfect.
Dream job, dream family, dream house. What more can I ask for? I wasn’t super rich, but honestly, I felt like that was overrated. Having a job that you liked doing and paid well was better than having a bunch of money and too much time on your hands. It’s not a popular opinion, but finding a job that was rewarding and is what you want to do is really a blessing.
Like I get to take as much time off as I want, but I still get paid both salary and commission. The people I work with are great. It sounds corporate, I know, but they’re really like family to me. We always go out and get drinks after work. They’re really easy to talk to and always down for trying out new things.
My boss is great. She isn’t a micromanager or anything like that. She just tells me what to do, and I do it. No fuss at all. She’s got my back for every annual promotion, and I’ve been promoted each year now. The benefits and compensation are the best in the industry.
The balance is exactly what I need. I get enough time with my wife and kids. Never had I had to miss any of my three kids' events. Piano recitals, football games, family outings, you name it and I’ve been there. It was awesome getting to see my kids grow up and be a part of their life each day.
“Hey Jim, do you want to get a drink after?” Harry asked.
Wiping the sweat off my brow, I sighed. “Sorry man, I have to head back home to drive the kids to soccer. Tomorrow?”
“Sure! That works for me.” He grunted as he tried to throw the meat onto the conveyor belt, but failed. “My goodness, you need to cut a little more off, this one is too fat.”
“Sorry, let me get that.” I walked over with my cleaver, and went to work. After a few more chops, it was into smaller pieces. “There you go, it should be better now.”
“Honestly Jim, your skills are the best I’ve seen. Don’t think anyone can come close to your knife work.”
“Yeah, I’ve had a lot of practice growing up, and even going through school. I didn’t think I would be able to land my dream job doing this either. It was really hard finding time for my hobbies, you know? Always had to be careful and it took a long time.”
“Yeah, it’s the last batch, and we can call it a day.”
“Hey look, it’s Barry!” I shouted, as I dragged his corpse up onto the table. “I always wanted to cut him up.” I started to cut up the corpse to toss into the processing plant. I wonder what he’ll taste like.
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##Wedding Vows
Everyone in the church looked their absolute best. When the doors opened, Vivian cried when she saw their smiling faces. Her father covered her from the crowd.
"Is everything alright dear?" Ulysses asked.
"I didn't expect to be so emotional," Vivian said.
"It's your wedding day. It's to be expected."
Vivian took several deep breaths. She closed her eyes, and her dad walked with her. Her grandma smiled and waved. It was a surprise for everyone that she managed to come. Her brother was prepared to take a video for her.
Vivian's mom was sitting in the front row, and she was crying already. Vivian looked away to avoid crying. On the other side, Derrick's mom was crying. Why can't this room have one dry eye. Vivian looked forward.
Derrick's smiling face nearly made her cry. He looked so perfect and happy. She couldn't wait to spend the rest of her life with him. She turned to face her bridesmaids.
Danielle, her sister, was standing the front. Her curls were looking great, and she doubted that perm. Lila, best friend from birth, was standing behind Danielle looking radiant. Penelope was standing in the back. Vivian didn't know Penelope that well at first; Derrick's mom insisted that his sister be included. Penelope turned out to be a great bridesmaid. Also, their dresses looked wonderful. Vivian wouldn't shackle them with something ugly.
Derrick and Vivian stood at the front smiling for the audience. Vivian heard her mom wail and began to laugh. The officiant was giving a speech, but all Vivian could do was focus on Derrick.
"Now it is time for the vows. The groom please."
"Vivian," Derrick smiled, "You are my best friend. These past few years have been amazing. I promise to love and support you in every circumstance. We are stronger together."
"Derrick," Vivian said, "I adore you. I cannot stop thinking about you. You are truly the perfect man that I dreamed about as a kid. I don't how you did it, but you did. You really put a spell on me."
---
r/AstroRideWrites
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lqew75h
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lqef36o
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[WP] After the villain defeated you, your friends abandoned you, leaving you for dead. To your surprise you awoke in a bed, with your wounds tended to and the villain sitting at your bedside.
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"And here I thought I was the bad girl. Even I don't leave my people behind" she said with a smirk.
I groan. As if the pain wasn't bad enough, now I'm stuck with her arrogance. Excuse me, "her excellence" is what she prefers.
"They reported you dead, you know. Going to be hard to come back from that."
I didn't have the mental power to think about that. Everything hurt, even my toes. "Fuck you" I coughed.
She gently caressed down my jawline with her fingernails, "Oh dear I hardly think you're in the condition for that".
Her touch was kind. I don't know why it caught me off guard. I have no idea what she could be wanting, or why she let me live, but I couldn't do anything about anything yet.
She stood to leave, then looked at me with genuine kindness in her eyes, "you know, everyone has a villain in their own story, and just because you think your villain is bad, doesn't make them bad. And just because you think you're the good guy, that doesn't make you the good guy". She walked out the door, telling her servant something as she left.
She was right. But why say it? This whole adventure I had felt like there was something I was missing, but what? Too weak to think about it now. I needed to sleep more.
I awake with a start, the morning sun on my face, warming it. For being such a villain, she did have amazing taste. And this bed is the most comfortable thing I've ever slept in. My body still aches, my head still throbs, but I feel significantly better.
I open my eyes and she's there again; not three feet away, sun gleaming through her silky brown hair, eyes closed, chest gently rising and falling with each breath. Her full lips pressed together. Why are these thoughts in my head. It has to be the fog from all the exhaustion and pain.
She wakes with a start, looking to me. "I see you're awake now. You should be feeling better after sleeping for two full nights".
Two nights?? Gods I didn't realize--
"Your friends that left you have started quite the ruckus since leaving here", she said flatly.
"What do you mean"? Well at least I could speak now.
"Your oh-so-magnificent sword is actually a key, and they've found the lock. Seems they knew all along. I had hoped otherwise". A look of concern crossing her face as she called her servant in.
"Have a look at what they're up to" she says as she helps me look into the large bowl in the servants hands.
Fire. Screaming. Corpses. Large black writhing tentacles masses in the sky. "What the hell is all this" I stammer. This was beyond comprehension. This can't be real.
"They've unleashed an Eldritch god, which is what I was trying to stop. I'm not the villain of this story, you and your friends were, but you were oblivious to their machinations". Now it all makes sense. The whispering, the secretive meetings, the shared skin markings. I've been betrayed, and I could feel the anger growing inside me.
"Use that anger. Let me help you, I can make you more than you were. Pledge yourself to me, and we can take this world back and make them pay." She looked at me softly, offering her hand to me. I took it, and a warm flushing feeling came over my body.
I was back on my feet, only a little pain. It's been five days since the Eldritch gods have appeared. Once took Her hand, my healing went quickly, and I was fitted with new armor, and a new weapon that drew on my desire for revenge. It was like nothing I had heard of. It was light, but dense, and had the power to sever any gods connection to their powers, or their disciples from them.
I looked over at my new queen as we left her lair; the flaming skies and blood soaked lands ahead of us, towers darkening the landscape. Those were the targets. Those were the rewards for the traitors and now high priests. They will reap what they have sown, and we will make sure of that.
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The fire crackling reminded me of times spent in the forest with my father as a young boy. It put me at quick ease as my body relaxed as the familiar scent of rain fell with the darkness of the night. When I eventually decided to open my eyes after taking a deep breath of oak trees, I quickly noticed half of my vision was gone. Bandaged tight around my left eye, I focused my vision and a couple of campfire embers danced to the right of me and I desperately turned to follow its beauty. I could see my friend's cloak to the right of me while she made food at the campfire but she was not my friend and in my hazy state, I reached out in hopes for company.
"Ally?" I had to clear my throat before speaking but I eventually got it out and whinced. That's when the reality of my pain hit me for my chest felt every rib was bruised. The figure turned to show itself briefly, it was not my friend but my foe. "You..." My tears were a mix of anger and I was shouting the best I could at her as my fight or flight kicked in reminding me of what she did to me. "You kill my friend and then wear her death proudly?!"
She hung her head sighing before rolling her eyes as she waved the back of her hand and snapped her fingers casting a spell with a soft blue light traveling from her palm to her fingertips as a warm damp rag landed on my head to cope with my fever while she returned to cooking most likely regretting her decision. "Rest. You're going to need it you know." She paused waiting for my reaction but I let it drop. If she wanted to kill me she would have on the battlefield.
An owl hooted and we got a clear view of the stars while we were surrounded by trees. That's when I noticed the rain right above us was suspended in the air and spilled off to the sides as if a window was right above us. "Why...treat my wounds?" I turned over to get a better look around us and that's when I noticed my left arm was nothing but a stub and in turn, I gasped in horror.
She tapped her pot with her wooden spoon and held it up to show potatoes and carrots and other things as it sloshed around. "Hungry?" I looked at her skeptically but accepted defyingly as my body ached for food. "Your friends left you after I defeated you...count yourself lucky I have empathy, I went through something similar when I was younger." When she turned to stand the pot lifted itself and closely followed alongside. That's when I noticed bandages on her side lightly soaked in blood. I wouldn't have noticed it if the dark green cloak hadn't lifted when she turned quickly and in turn, I felt guilty.
She noticed the shift in my eyes but said nothing about it, she poured me a bowl and we exchanged a warm quiet minute together while I picked up the wooden spoon and ate as slowly as I could as if that would make it better. No malice for an enemy I never thought I would share a meal with yet it still felt like my friend...the soup was good too. She snorted and I looked up confused until I realized I muttered the last part out loud. I knew Alice was a sage, and had telekinetic powers but never lighthearted and childish. I wonder if we had met sooner we could have been friends.
We stayed silent until we finished our meals and soon enough I tried to head to bed while watching the fire while Alice sat on a log watching it flicker. "Thank you...Alice, truly." She didn't respond or turn backward to acknowledge me so I turned around and slept with a weight in my chest.
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lf5iuj3
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[WP] In a world where it is no longer trendy to have an ordinary human body, the kids are all flocking to get cybernetics. Your mom has banned you from getting any until you turn 18.
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"Honey, you're not getting cybernetics. Not until you're 18."
"Mom! Everyone in school has one! Even that kid from the ghetto has a hearing implant that lets him hear sound from over 200 meters away!"
"You're doing fine in school, aren't you? Your grades are fine, you passed your physical test—"
"But I'm not the fastest runner anymore! Not since Brad got his blade runners! Now he's slicing through the air and tearing through running tracks instead of just running along with these boring legs!"
"I said no cybernetics! They could eat your soul!"
"Mom, that's stupid old wives tales! I won't lose my soul having a robot arm. Or a stainless steel chestplate. Look, its not trendy to have an ordinary human body. Everyone has an upgrade. Even a beggar has a fucking implant! Half the school knows of the weakness of human flesh and worship the Omni-Messiah!"
"You just don't want to be an ordinary human, do you?"
"...I wanna be cool like the cool kids in school. Kick some ass, run circles around the mundies."
"Cybernetics is a trend. Trends don't last. Neither do machine parts. They need maintenance, upgrades, and a source of power, be it fuel, or electricity, or solar energy."
"Mom...you know something."
"Cybernetics can be damaged, or worse, taken away from you by harvester gangs. Did you read the news? A star college athlete was jumped by the Salazar Slicers last week. They robbed him of all his cybernetic limbs so they could assemble their own champion sportsman for the upcoming Sundown Marathon. Left the poor boy lying in the dark alleyways as a limbless torso. That could be you."
"...don't scare me like that."
"Look up the news yourself."
"I don't want to. Mom, spit it out. I know you hate cybernetics but you're hiding something."
"Honey, it can't be helped. I was going to wait until you were 18, but you can't wait," Mom paused to sprout additional appendages, of twisted arms and writhing tentacles. "So, I will now teach you ancient art of eldritch flesh crafting and biomancy from the Gods of the Deep."
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[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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"Mom, please? Everyone at school has cybernetics!"
"If all of your friends were to jump off a bridge, would you?"
"Ugh, mom! That's so 2030!"
"We've talked about this, honey. You're not getting cybernetics until you turn eighteen."
"But Mom! I can't wait that long!"
"It's only a couple of years. You'll thank me later when you haven't made permanent changes to your body because you were young and stupid."
"Ugh!" *Scrolls through phone.* "Look at HarmlessAndriod, mom! She got a new cybernetic eye! It's all red, it looks so cool! Why can't I get that?"
*Sigh.* "There was a period, back in 2024, where I thought Tiktok would disappear. Yet here it is, infecting another generation with its toxic trends."
"Mom, you aren't even looking!"
"Look, Aera, I'm gonna be honest with you. This cybernetic thing is a trend, and who knows how long it will last? In a couple of years, people will be obsessing over some new thing. Just because cybernetics are trending on Tiktok now, doesn't mean they'll be trending in ten years. Do you remember when Stanleys were trending?"
"What are Stanleys?"
"Exactly."
"Mom, who cares how long the trend lasts? Everyone is getting cybernetics! If I don't get cybernetics, I'll be a total loser!"
"Sweetie, I'm not letting you make a permanent change to your body just because its trending. To be completely honest, I'm hoping that by the time you're eighteen, this cybernetic trend will have died and the internet will be obsessing over something else. If you turn eighteen and you still want cybernetics, fine. I won't stop you. But as your parent, it is my job to protect you. And that includes protecting you from changing your body so that other people will like you."
"Ugh! You never let me do what I want! I hate you!"
*Runs up to her room and slams the door.*
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k66bhk1
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k6610e0
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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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Oblivion was short-lived. 900 years or so. And then a child of all things started beckoning me back to the land of the living. Across my history her offerings were small. But when you haven't had a sacrifice in nearly a millenia, any sacrifice is appreciated. And she never asked for anything. The line she'd translated from a 10th century history of pre-Gallic tribes in her mother's study contained a plea to me to "survive the night". At that time, villages slaughtered a stag every dusk and pledged themselves to service in exchange for a full harvest and the preservation of their houses. Well the world of the present has remarkably less to worry about, so I could rest easy knowing my supplicant would be safe without my intervention. No need to expend power unnecessarily after all. And she was happy in her habit, comforted by the thought of a power watching over her and her loved ones. As supplicants went, I had had worse. And without question, too few who were worthy of my favor. Oblivion did not arrive without reason.
This little arrangement had worked pleasantly for all involved for 12 moons and 10 days. And then, late on the 11th day, three wolves found themselves drawn to my pledged's door. And I found myself stretching the knots out of muscles I hadn't flexed in ages. Enough of my old self restored to hear their intent. The thoughts of threats as open to me as tracks in a field or the hearts of my faithful. One ensnared by greed, the other two, darker things. The greedy may survive me, if he is wise. The others will not.
Still time for mortals to act. Not required to step in if others prevented harm from coming upon the pledged. There were two locks on the door. ... ... ... Picked quickly. Still an alarm that would call the local forces... ... ... Bypassed. My jaw ached in anticipation. About a year's sacrifices from 1 supplicant. Should be enough for three. Would need to be enough. To avoid non-existence a while longer. If only her parents played along with my faithful one. Even false faith would have been worth something, if just for the ritual of the thing.
The wolves enter on the front landing. I enter beside the child's bed. She above everyone in this house must remain safe. Exit the room, close the door. Expend a portion of power to seal it til dawn. The hallway is dim. Worse than darkness. I insert two fingers into a power outlet and trip the breakers for the house. More power expended. But at last, darkness. I hear them flipping switches and cursing among themselves. Two move for the rear stairs while the third starts bagging household treasures.
As they ascend the steps I sense not only their weight on the treads, heavy as they are. I feel the air shift as their forms traverse the space. Tall. Well, tall for my previous faithful. Likely average for the world today. The one on the left is slower. Not from purposefulness. Sloth. He will die second.
I move, enrobed in shadow. The faster monster realizes too late that they are not alone in the dark. I throw my hand with inhuman force. It crushes his throat with a crackling sound. He reaches. For help? For me? For breath? He finds nothing. As he begins to fall back, I guide him to his companion. The slow one startles, now realizing something is amiss. He tries to catch his falling friend. It is at that moment that I kick him off the stairs. He sails into the air for a moment, his eyes wide in wonder. Nay, it is shock. Only when he begins to understand his predicament, the Earth beckons him back. I can hear the bones in his back break when he strikes the floor. No danger left in these two. A fraction of the power granted to me remains.
The thief has moved toward the broken one, drawn by the noise and his gurgling anguish. I descend the stairs in silence. As he calls for the one whose throat I destroyed I announce myself.
"Your companions had ill intentions for my child. I dealt with them as they deserved. You may leave with your life or die here with the monsters you accompanied."
Several spurts of language start and stop before he pulls his weapon from his coat. Still blessedly blind in the dark. I move across the room, one last chance.
"LEAVE OR DIE"
He chooses that moment to fire his weapon. Metal flies in multiple directions. Each posing danger should they land poorly. I expend most of my remaining power to stop the bullets with the darkness itself. I move swiftly and push his weapon towards himself.
"I gave you two chances. You will not get a third."
And I squeeze his finger for him. The metal lands badly for him.
The noise of the weapon has woken the household, and likely their neighbors. I have little power remaining. Enough to stave off Oblivion. But not enough to hold my form. The child's parents attempt to enter her room. They are granted access by virtue of being protected by the same power. The child is awake, concerned, but not frightened. I am glad. And impressed by her faith in me.
The rest of the night is filled with police and questioning and a girl adamant that there is a simple explanation. I saved them and ended threats to this home. The police are unconvinced. The father is uncertain what happened. The mother, witnessing the aftermath, feeling her daughter's certainty, feels a sort of certainty by proxy.
The news of a home invasion and the records of the dead threats brought some attention to the child at school. And she took the time to introduce a number of interested children to me. It's only a flock of 50 or so, but they believe with a child's heart. Wholly. I haven't been this well fed in a long time. And as it so happens, 50 families scraps are almost as satisfying as a stag a night. I'm starting to feel like my old self again. And I've started talking with my little druid. And granted her a couple of boons. But no need for you to know about those for now.
And while she doesn't play along in my young druid's nightly ritual, in her heart, the mother of the house thanks me with equal faith. I think I may need to start talking to her. She could prove quite useful. Protection, as I said, has proven quite simple. But how should I provide a good harvest when they aren't sowing any crops? I will have to think about that awhile longer. Til then, I know my faithful, and they know me. Should you dare threaten them, we too shall meet.
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How long has it been?
How long ago was it that the banners of vivid blue hung from the terraces of my temples?
How many ages have gone by since the people walked through the streets on my high holy day, casting handfuls of blue flower petals into the crowds to bless them?
How many generations have passed since my priests heaped goats and sheep and bulls on my altars, splitting them open and burning them to garner my most meager blessings?
I know only that Babylon fell long, long ago. Those priests, and the temples they brought my offerings to, little more than dust on the wind. A triumphant shout that has faded into a quiet, all consuming silence.
Then, I reclined on beds made of ivory and stuffed with the feathers of ostriches and ducks. I was sheltered from the sun's glare by the mud bricks of ziggurats raised by men who felt honored simply to labor for my glory.
Now, I sleep in a cave, in a pile of rotting leaves and the furs of small animals I can capture with my hands.
I glance at the back of my cave, at the meager trove of offerings that have been brought to me over the last few years. Once, tens of thousands had worshiped me, their offerings spilling from the entrance of my temples and down the steps into the streets. Now I have but one supplicant. A young girl who comes here each night when her world sleeps, bringing whatever she can and begging me to protect her family.
A storm is passing by, the smell of rain thick in the air, the loamy scent of soaked earth filling my nostrils. I inhale it deeply, one of the last few pleasures I enjoy, but something smells *wrong*. A tinge of madness on the wind.
I creep towards the back of the cave, my breath shallow as I contemplate my tiny hoard. A small bowl I'd carved from rock to hold a loose pile of multicolored glass orbs. Her first gift, a feather from a crow, all black unlike the ones I'd seen in Babylon. The leg and wing bones of chickens she'd brought to me were meticulously stacked on the plate she'd brought them on, a beautiful thing made of white porcelain, delicate red and blue flowers trailing around its edge. A dried crown of white flowers, my favorite of them all, caught my eye causing it to linger on it.
The madness is creeping closer with the storm clouds. Fat and squat they spread out on the horizon darkly, ominously warning me to stay away. If I go to her, I doubt very much that I will survive what I find. If I do not, I can continue to eek out this meager existence. I may even, one day, far from now, find more worshipers. I could be loved again. I could be worshiped again. I could bask in their adulation, in their rites and hopes and dreams, answer their prayers, smell the incense and ash of their offerings.
Is it the duty of the gods to protect their followers? Or the duty of the followers to keep their gods remembered and strong? Who owes fealty to whom? Are we born of their needs and hopes or do they crawl forth from our egos and desire for love? It has been too long for me to remember.
I scratch at the lice that chew on my flesh underneath the ragged beard that crawls down my face. Long, long ago, women had fought one another for the honor of trimming it and oiling it, braiding it with bits of gold and lapis lazuli. But they have all long since died. I search a pile of bones that has been heaped by my door, scraps of rotten and dried meat still clinging to some, and find a large one. Some kind of leg bone from what the girl called a 'moose'. It is thick, and so, so heavy in my hand. It drags behind me along the floor of the forest as I leave the cave, as I shamble down the hillside, towards the twinkling lights of the town the girl lives in.
Lightning lights the clouds and the rain finally comes, the pregnant clouds opening up to weep down upon the little village of homes and the little god who walks towards them. I wonder if perhaps they are a final elegy for me by my father. I wonder if he still lives as I live now, forgotten and weak, or if he died long ago without my knowing. I remember the feeling of my hand in his as we stood atop his ziggurat, the cries of the humans below filling us with pride and love. I remember the strength with which he squeezed my hand, how big it felt compared to mine.
With every step I take, the tinge of that scent grows thicker. It's sour and musty, like old books that have been left to rot in a warehouse, vermin smearing their feces across the ink and chewing at the corners of the paper. There's something else to it too, a kind of iron, like the smell of blood and intestines mixing with dirt. It makes me want to gag.
But it's not just the smell that seems off. The little village of the girl, a tiny town buried between the mountains, has always been a quiet, sleepy little place, but never this quiet. No animals move or chatter and none of the odd metal carts, cars the girl calls them, move along the streets. The only sound is the wind screaming through the trees as the storm passes, the patter of rain as it begins to fall more heavily. A door bangs against its frame in the distance, a lonely drumbeat in the dark.
Lights normally blaze from the windows but tonight I don't see them. Even the stars seem to have been swallowed by the storm clouds that have drifted over the valley. I search the town for signs of life, but find none.
I resume my march, following a pulsing feeling deep in my chest, the tug of the girl's fervent, whispered pleas to me to protect her family. The bone scrapes loudly on the road as I follow it towards where I feel her to be, the grating sound joining the dull banging of the door and the eerie cries of the wind.
Finally, I find the home. A small thing of white painted wood, the door lies on the ground before the portal it once covered, shattered and discarded. Blood trails across the threshold, into the yawning darkness. I do not fear what I will find inside. I only fear that I am too late to protect the child.
1/2
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k8zjljf
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k8ziqoh
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[WP] After months, the villain finds the hero, but upon arriving at his home, he discovers the hero in a stained robe, baby food splattered, huge dark circles under his eyes, and a non-stop crying baby. The only thing the hero says is, "My wife left me."
|
“My wife left me,” his voice was rough and on the verge of cracking. I hadn’t seen him like this in several years.
Golden Boy as I called him, Sunbeam as the public knew him wasn’t the one standing before me. It was Aleksander, Alek.
Sympathy ran through me at the sight of the Hero. My former best friend, ex-lover, and now sworn enemy. Sympathy. Something I doubt he ever had for me.
“Dammit,” I swore under my breath, holding my arms out for the baby, “Give her here,”
It didn’t take much convincing for the child to be in my arms, bouncing her softly I hummed a lullaby that I used to soothe my own daughter through her nightmares. It wasn’t long before the baby was asleep in my arms.
“Moonshadow, why are you here?” Alek asked me, watching me closely. He seemed surprised that his daughter was calm for me. A villain. He wasn’t aware of my own daughter, she was my well protected secret, my weakness.
“Alek, go shower and get cleaned up, I’ll cook you some breakfast,” I almost stepped forward to hug him, but stopped, “what’s her name?”
“Adriana, that’s her name,” he answered, “Selene, what are you doing here?”
“You haven’t been seen for months, both as Golden Boy and as Aleksander Devan,” I answered honestly, “I was worried, please go clean up Alek,”
“But,”
“You know I have morals better than anyone, Adriana will be fine, go shower, you’ll feel better,”
I watched as he opened his mouth to protest again, but stopped short of doing so. I studied his body language, at one point we both had known each other better than ourselves.
It took fifteen minutes for Aleksander to return downstairs, sans shirt, and the quick breakfast I had whipped up was almost done with help from my powers. Especially with a child in one arm. I had once dreamed of this domestic life, but our lives had headed in different directions.
“Why are the pancakes shaped like animals?” Alek had silently moved towards me, picking up two plates and moving them to the table.
“Habit,” I responded softly, my stupid heart beating faster with his proximity, it was easier to hate him before finding him in this state, I wish I still hated him. “My daughter loves animal pancakes,”
“You have a child?”
“Rhiannon, I did the single parenting thing, I know how hard it is,” I settled the sleeping baby into a high chair, grabbing a pancake for her.
“You have a daughter,” his voice was soft and thoughtful, “her father?”
“Doesn’t know she exists, I received death threats from another woman who was jealous of the relationship, so I left to protect my unborn child, she became my priority,” I admitted, taking a seat opposite Alek, but next to his daughter, “I loved him, her father, part of me still does, but I had to protect her,”
I hoped the the pieces would click into place for him. There was still fear in me that his now ex-wife would still kill me and my daughter if I outright told him.
“I wanted to marry you,” he responded softly, “but when you disappeared six years ago, and reappeared as Moonshadow, Ellie comforted me, she convinced me to become Sunbeam again. How old is she?”
“Five, almost six,”
“I’m her father, aren’t I?”
“Yes,”
|
Madeline Grayson, the woman better known as Madame Chaos, knocked on the door. She had been announcing evil plans for weeks, and still no response. If Captain paragon was going to fade into obscurity, the least he could do was tell her ahead of time.
"Come out, Paragon. You at least owe me an explanation." A fit, but very tired looking man opened the door while holding a baby. His bathrobe was stained by baby food, and what looked like vomit.
"Listen, chaos. I don't have time right now." The lack of sleep was incredibly visible on the man's face. "There are a thousand things I need to handle, and running off to stop whatever dumb plan you have isn't one of them." Madeline's face softened, and she reached her arms out.
"May I....please?" Captain paragon looked at her for a moment, trying to figure out where she was going with this. "I'm not going to drop her, I promise." Paragon gently handed the baby over.
"Why are you here, Madeline?" He asked, trying to block the view of his messy apartment.
"In truth, I'm worried about you Simon." Madeline said, this time with genuine concern. "The news networks think you're dead, and I figured I should check in. What happened to you?" Simon stepped out of the doorway, gesturing for Madeline to come inside.
"She's gone." Simon said. "She said that she was no longer interested in being a super wife. I think she might have gone to Arizona." Madeline took on an angry expression, as she walked through the door.
"So she just left you alone, to care for your baby by yourself?" Simon nodded.
"She was everything, Madeline. I don't know what I'll do without her." Simon sat on the floor, and began to cry. "I can't raise my kid by myself. I don't have time to go to work, and I haven't slept in days. What do I do?" Madeline sat down next to him.
"Do you trust me?" She said, letting him lay his head on her shoulder.
"Probably more than anybody else." He said, while starting to doze off.
"I'll watch the baby, and you sleep. We'll get your life squared away, and figure something out. Okay?" Simon met her eyes, and let himself drift to sleep.
"Okay...I trust you, Madeline.'
8 years later.
Simon stood at the door, waiting for the school bus to drop his daughter off.
"Honey." Madeline called out from the living room. "I'm heading to work. Come stop me at around 6:00, okay?" Simon smiled at Madeline, who has just donned her green and black costume.
"Alright, Love." Simon said. "Be careful. And try not to cause too much collateral damage. The press has been killing us over that lately." Madeline smiled, and planted a kiss on his cheek.
"Okay, babe. Love you." She started to fly away, but turned back before leaving. "Tell Alice that I love her once she gets home."
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jdvu6q5
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jdvtlah
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[WP] The Clergy hates your eccentric ways, but you remain the best Exorcist and you love your job. You're only called upon to chase the strongest, fiercest demons. But your prayers are just for show, what really terrifies the spirits away is witnessing a demon powerful enough to take human shape...
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The young, naive man sat next to ‘Father’ Geniol. The Vatican had assigned him to be the father’s latest apprentice. Daniel had just recently taken on the vestments of a holy man but quickly found himself in trouble for his ‘carnal desires.’ His choices were to suffer excommunication or to become the apprentice to the Father here. Daniel took the later knowing while it was almost a guaranteed death sentence, at least he would be welcome into the kingdom of Heaven. It would… just be a little quicker than he had originally planned, thought Daniel.
The Father took a swig from his holy water font(?) “Father did you just take a drink of holy water?”, asked Daniel. Turning to Daniel and no longer looking at the road ahead, the scent of whiskey overwhelmed Daniel. “Yeap, thank our Lord Jameson. Amen” Daniel was appalled at this blasphemy but held his tongue least he earn yet another black eye from the Father.
Barely missing an oncoming truck, the Father swerved the car somehow sensing the danger without at glance. “Come now ‘child’ if the son of man’s blood is wine a nip or two of alcohol only brings us closer to him.” Daniel could only bite his tongue harder and may also have wet himself.
Looking a bit disappointed the Father put the font back into his front pocket and again looked at the road. Daniel had witnessed the power of this holy man next to him. His aura was palpable when he stepped into a room as he would quickly slur some prayers in Latin, Greek and other languages. These prayers seemed to seal the room and cause the demons to reel in fear. The Father would then approach the demon who would scream and plead. Then with a simple touch the Father would exorcise the abomination.
The Father and Daniel were on their way to a mansion where something powerful had taken hold of the manor’s youngest. Whatever it was had slain a fellow priest and drove another mad. It was such cases that the Vatican would send Father Geniol and by extension his apprentice.
Arriving later that day, the Father quickly gathered his possessions and practically dragged Daniel inside. “Are we not going to rest and pray,” asked Daniel. “No rest for the wicked,” came the reply from the Father with an uncharacteristic chuckle. They were ushered upstairs to a room with a door barely on its hinges. The Father removed his Font (the same one as he had previously drank from) and made a big spectacle of splashing the door frame before the worried parents.
As if on cue the occupant of the room started screeching and scratching. Daniel thought for a second and realized this one spoke Latin. Previously these demons spoke either an unfamiliar language or what he assumed was the language of Hell. Quickly entering the door the Father started approaching the possessed child who was in the corner. Daniel heard the demon shout in Latin. “Devourer please come no closer, let me leave this child.” The small hands of the child pointed at him. “Devourer why do you want to eat me, that corrupted man’s soul would be much more satisfying. Just leave me…”
The Father finished approaching the child and with a forceful shove, the child fell limply to the floor. The sense of foreboding emanating from the fragile frame gone. Thinking back at the other exorcisms, Daniel realized that every one of the possessed had gestured similarly in his direction. He had thought they were pointing to the door but no it was him…
Daniel felt behind him at the doorknob and quickly retracted his hand… it was scalding hot. Father Geniol seeing the understanding in Daniels face, started to approach him.
|
I was drinking another bottle of Vodka when Brother James approached me with a few exorcism assignments.
"Bevra? Baron of 6th Hell? Pfft, that's small fucking fry. You should know by now I'm only called upon to take on the big bad boys," I snorted.
James bowed and showed another assignment. Mammon. Duke of Greed in the 9th Hell. Now we're talking. Now, this is the sort of challenge I live for. Can't wait to fuck this one up and show him who's boss. But first, I still have to attend one of those boring customary mission briefings.
James reminded me not to be rude, and no profanities in the presence of the cardinal. Eh, kid, you seem to be forgetting, you might not like my ways, but I'm the best exorcist you got. I just love this job so much, well, most of it, besides the boring briefings.
Ah yes, Mammon is wrecking shit in New York again. I nod, smile, and pretend to pay attention while the cardinal is yapping away. He glares at the vodka bottle I brought into the room but doesn't say anything. Of course, he doesn't mention it, the one time he objected to my drinking habits, I just went on a month-long sabbath, munching popcorn while a few demons trash a few towns.
So I take my rosary, my exorcism book, and a bottle of water. Is that water holy? Eh, who gives a fuck, I never really needed to sprinkle it at all. Looking for Mammon isn't hard at all, he's a big, dumb, greedy brute tearing his way through food factories and stuffing his face with anything that fits into his gigantic mouths.
I telepathically whisper into his ears in the ancient language. Told him to play my game, then fuck off and crawl his fucking way back to Hell. His eyes widen once he sees it's me, and he gets the hint. Maybe not so dumb after all. He raises his arms and flails about while I read these lame-ass prayers from the book. Sprinkle a bit of water on his face, and he's ready to head home to Hell.
Easy-peasy. All in a day's work, just posing, prancing, and praying for a bit before I tell them to beat it and fuck off back home to Hell. I love how easy it is to rake in good money.
I guess I ain't the only one because there is this little demon kid shuddering in the corner, watching me at work.
"I want to be powerful like you too," the kid declared. "How you take a perfectly human shape and just send them packing like that."
"Just give it a few million years and you might just get there," I tell him plainly. "Stay alive long enough while building power."
"I can't build power if everyone keeps robbing me or laughing at how human and simple my name is. Teach me your ways, oh great and wise President Haagenti. I want to be a President and a member of the 72 demons of Ars Goetia just like you!"
Cute. I'll take this kid with me. His human form is very rough around the edges, but there's definitely some raw talent I can work with. After all, it does take a powerful demon to truly assume a convincing human form, so the kid is halfway there. Maybe we can form an exorcist duo, chewing bubble gum, drinking wine, and kicking the asses of other demons.
I swirl the "holy" water bottle, turn it into wine and offer it to the demon kid. Tell me your name, kiddo.
["I'm Amy. Soon-to-be-President Amy."](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amy_(demon)
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k88lsyq
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k882laz
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[WP] "Yeah, my brother got possesed by a demon, but we couldn't afford an exorcist."
|
"Wait, you're saying your brother got possessed by..."
"A demon."
"...and it happened..."
"Almost a year ago."
"And you didn't try to get an exorcist?"
"Oh, we wanted to. We just couldn't find one we could afford. It kinda worked out though."
"Yeah. About that -" suddenly there's some loud clanging coming from the doorway to the kitchen. After a few moments of silence a young man steps into the doorway. As he begins to speak a low rumble fills the house, "The cookies are almost done and I'm about to start on the hot chocolate. Kathy, do you like whipped cream and marshmallows with yours?"
"Um... Yes, thank you"
Once again the air seems to quake "Great. I'll bring it as soon as it's ready." He then disappears back into the kitchen.
"Dveveralth is such a dear. It took some getting used to, but it really is better with him here."
"But what about Seth? Is your brother" Kathy's voice grows quite until it's just above a whisper "gone?"
Wren bursts out laughing "No. Seth is fine. Drev says he's awake, and has made a lot of progress. You know how much of a shut-in has was, he was also depressed. Drev has been helping him, and says he'll leave once Seth is ready."
"Do you believe him? He is a demon after all."
A heavy silence fills the air, until it is shattered with "The hot cocoa is ready."
"Yes, I know he will keep his word."
"But -"
"Have you ever thought that maybe demons are actually good things? That they exist to seek out wounds and help heal them. To fill an emptiness and make one whole. I've come to think that is how things are."
"The world is a strange place."
"That it is."
|
I watched him writhe in pain for hours, contorting his body, tearing ligaments. He rapidly cycled through every emotion known to man. Our desperate attempts to fill the air with holy spirits were met with spitting vitriol and hatred that cooked our bodies to the core. My mother and father aged thirty years. Due to the times, we could barely afford to eat, let alone hire spiritual help. My father begged our neighbors downstairs, our neighbors down the hall, and the priest himself - no one was willing to proffer a debt that could not be repaid.
Somehow, I knew it would happen. The prior three months were dreamlike, picturesque, read like storybook, filled with laughter, peaceful, comfortable, heavenly. Most families never experience the love and bond that we shared. We were happy, despite the economy and widespread illness.
No matter what I do, I will never be able to erase the image of terror on my brother's face as his soul was violently torn from his ravished body and exiled to an afterlife unknown.
"Thank you for sharing. Anyone else?"
A tiny voice poked into the conversation. "My father was sick" she began, "but he died because we couldn't afford his daily shots."
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k3tlgtx
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k3sykfy
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[WP] You’re a mimic. You were disguised as a clock when an adventurer decided to take you as loot. You’ve actually managed to enjoy your live ever since as furniture in a small, local tavern. When some ruffians decide to rob the now elderly adventurer however, you finally reveal yourself.
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"Mom? Dad? You stay in the rear each time the sessions start, ya hear!? Don't hang anywhere near or around the AT-AT Walkers and, for kriffing sake, DON'T BE A HERO...or FIGHT any! That goes especially for the guys with the humming/glowie sticks! Just...just please KEEP LOW and under the radar until I can find us a way OUT of here, okay?"
My father and I spoke as he studied my all black protective coverings with a worried concern in his voice at the similar black & white armor in which my parents were now clad. He knew who we were, but didn't understand WHY we were in this predicament. My mother could be heard quietly weeping behind him, her voice emulator seemingly unable to differentiate between speaking and crying. She suddenly pointed and screamed as a Rebel member appeared from behind a large boulder and fired several shots in our general direction...only to have each one slapped away by a huge, imposing figure brandishing a long, red light-saber. He(?) only pondered our tiny group for a moment as he made a movement with his hand, choking the life out of the same soldier who tried to kill us meer moments before, the soon limp body hanging in mid-air. Flinging the corpse aside with a slight wave, the voice of the Sith-lord came through, strong and clear:
"Follow ME! Embrace and CONQUER your fear!!"
I had serious, conflicting emotions at having been saved by Darth Vader, but I soon found myself walking quickly to keep up with him. My determination to keep us all alive was paramount but I couldn't help but have some growing admiration not only for the fearsome dark-side user, but also for my father...who, quietly but radiating with equal purpose to protect us, his FAMILY, strode menacingly BESIDE me, ready to charge into the harshest fray. As my mom brought up the rear with her blaster at the ready, albeit nervously within her grasp, I prayed to whatever higher power that I would see both my parents alive and well.
|
It's not really from the perspective of the main character, but here goes!
​
\----------
​
There's something, I think, moving. I can see it on the cameras.
...
It's small. There's three?
...
I'm sure it's not a human. They looked different than that...I think? I was in here so long...
...
A cat. Three cats. In the Dead City. How? *Why?* Would they be able to understand me? Could they get me out?!
...
No...that's ridiculous. They could never get past the Zurks. I'll turn on some neon arrows, maybe. I'll see how far they can go.
...
One fell.
...
The other two are making their way closer to me...maybe...I could at least try showing them where to go.
...
They're in my flat. Or maybe someone else's. It could be the scientist's. It could be mine. No-one knows anymore.
​
I suppose I could tell them to find me a body. They found that old computer, so I could leave a message, or two.
...
":ijrtuuxp6njb/jbrv" says the cats. What does that even mean?! What are they trying to tell me?!
...
\[LAUGHS\] They actually found something. Just that silly little B-12 drone. Wow.
​
Will it work? Could that tiny thing really store me? ...What's... left of me? Maybe, just maybe, I could be...free?
​
I suppose then, this is the end. I don't know who I am writing to, really. It's not like anyone is going to find, and actually read my 1527 entries long electronic journal I have on this system. But, if you are, learn from us. Don't make our mistakes.
​
\-*undefined*, the last human
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kukehay
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kukcsy7
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[WP] You open the door and see a woman you recognise immediately: she’s the lead character of a novel you wrote years ago. And abandoned halfway. “Why did you forsake me?”
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"Madeline. What...?"
"Harrison. I've been waiting for so long. All these years, not a word, not a letter!" She brushed her way inside, her long green bustled dress catching slightly on the apartment door as she went. She collapsed on the couch, her face buried in a handkerchief. "I waited, watching the sea for ages. Just as you told me to. And what was I paid for my loyalty?"
"Mad... Eline?"
"Did you ever really love me, Harrison? Were all your perfumed words nothing more than a puff on the breeze?"
"Oh wow, I forgot how bad that dialogue was..."
Her head snapped to him with a deadly glare. "How dare you insult me as I empty my heart before you, bleeding my emotions on the floor until there is nothing left! I leave myself anemic in love at your feet and you laugh at me!"
Jack took a moment to collect himself from the pain, physical pain, of hearing the lines he had written as a teenager replayed in vivid technicolor. "I'm not laughing. Madeline. Not laughing at all. I'm just... Confused. How did this come about?"
"As I said," she turned to gaze out the window longing, the kerchief held close to but not touching her face in one hand. "I gazed out to the sea as you told me to do. Waiting for a sign of your return. Waiting for the day I may see your sail once again return to shore, to return to the loving embrace of my bosom."
^^^"jesus ^^^fucking ^^^christ..."
"Even as the years drew on, I never wavered. My faith was tested. My eternal devotion unbroken. Until one day, I saw a light. Like a whisp beckoning, calling to me, guiding me. I followed it. Through roads and rivers, across vast oceans and foreign lands, I did follow it for I knew, I knew it was leading me to you. And now, here we are. Together again." She rose, graceful now. An odd mixture of a powerful presence and cocksure determination while seeming to be attempting to appear demure. "Oh, Harrison. I am so sorry for scolding you. You must forgive me. My hot head has proved once again my undoing. But I tell you, the heat of my pounding heart is far more intense. You can feel it under the flush of my, well, I am too embarrassed to even utter the word, but for you, Harrison. For you, I'm willing to bear myself, unfettered and pure!"
"My parents sent a box of my stuff from high school, huh?"
"It had your little league trophies and a goddamn **stack** of notebooks. What really happened to Harrison anyway?"
"Who the fuck cares?"
Jack kissed his wife as he made a mental reminder to burn that stack of notebooks.
|
Each foot fall gave a dull thud that echoed into the night. It'd been a long day, a dog day to be honest. He finished his cigarette and flicked it toward the old fountain, a derelict bit of masonry that hadn't pumped water in ages. Now filled with stagnant water and hundreds of other soggy cigarettes butts he'd given a flick in the past, now fate was to be a foul-smelling eyesore or maybe an ashtray.
His unsteady hand dug for his keys then fumbled with them as he tried and failed multiple times to find the keyhole in the knob. Eventually, he lucked out and managed to pierce the hole. A shake of the key ring and a twist of the knob and the door was opened.
It squeaked eerily, sounding shrill in silence of the night. He didn't notice though, to familiar with the sound by this point for it to even register.
As he stumbled through the door, he was startled to find that there was already someone waiting inside, standing in entryway to the kitchen.
All he could tell was that her pronoun was she. Her curves gave it away. The living room was dark and only the kitchen light illuminated the woman, back lighting her so that she'd become a silhouette. Still, one look at her and he knew, she was someone he had a history with.
"Why did forsake me?" These were her first words to him.
He sighed heavily. He knew this day would come.
"Answer me," she demanded. He knew he was too drunk to handle this properly. Even sober, he knew he'd say the wrong thing, so he gave it to her raw.
"What did you expect me to do? You're a dinosaur. I stopped writing about dinosaurs when I was in sixth grade. I'm forty now. I didn't forsake you. I traded you for a fresher body, one that could stimulate my imagination and come to life on the page. You were too two dimensional and smelled of crayon."
"You bastard. I gave you the best years of my life."
"Did I ask you to give them to me? No. I had a pencil and needed had an itch to scratch. You just happened to be a doodle in the wrong place at the right time."
"I fucking hate you . . . You--You asshole."
"Bite me, bitch," he retorted.
So, she did. She was a dinosaur after all.
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k8stxcv
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k8snn32
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[WP] To prevent the prince from falling in love with a commoner, a decision was made to keep him away from all women until he reached the age to meet his betrothed. However, one day before meeting her, he escaped with an unexpected companion.
|
I hugged the walls, keeping myself in the shadows, as I reached the West Wall of the castle. My heart raced as I dodged knights and servants, still milling around the castle this late at night. Don't these people sleep?
Making sure the coast was clear, I threw my bag over the wall, and soon I made the climb. I quickly jumped over the wall towards a tree, then staying still, making sure nobody heard anything before climbing down the tree. After grabbing my bag, I ran to the woods, adrenaline pumping my veins. I'm free. I can't believe I did it. I don't know how long I ran, but by the light of the full moon, I reached the clearing, where I spotted her, Hannah. She had two horses ready, and majestic steeds they were.
"Where did you get them?" I asked Hannah as I approached.
Hannah pulled out her sword, soon realized it was me.
"Don't scare me like that, Ivan."
I smiled and embraced her, kissing her on the lips.
"We can't do this here, we need to go-"
A snap of a twig startled us both.
Without saying a word, we both hopped on our respective horses and were about to leave when a knight stopped us. I thought he was one of my father's men, but I noticed he wore a different emblem. The Rosavilla Crest. He's from the Rosavilla Kingdom. Did my father sent them? Why though?
"Princess Anne Mary, we finally found you!" the knight said in relief.
"Princess...Anne...Mary?" I asked, looking at Hannah.
Behind us, the knights of my father's kingdom emerged.
"Prince John Charles, what are you doing!"
Hannah's eyes widened, "Prince John Charles."
We both looked at each other. All this time, sneaking around, meeting in the woods, taking trips to the village, keeping each other a secret, we were betrothed to marry this entire time.
|
Yep.
The prince ran away with a man.
I'm more shocked that people were shocked.
"The p-p-prince is...*gay?*"
You keep a guy locked up for his whole life with nothing but guys and then get surprised when they start touching each other's dicks? Anyone heard of something called prison? Anyone?
And don't think it's just prison. Let's not pretend we weren't at sleepovers with our friends trying to measure whose dick was bigger. C'mon. If you have a son, and he spends the night at his guy friend's house more than once a month, I've got something to tell you...
And it's not just prison or a sleepovers. If you ever played or watched a sport in your life, then you might need to take a seat for this one...I respect wrestling teams because they don't even try to hide it. But football? It's literally men chasing other men around and jumping on each other, while men at home scream and cheer them on. They do a good job of hiding what's really going on by putting on helmets and pads, but if you really want to see it for what it really is, take away the clothes.
I could go on, but if you've ever been to prison, a sleepover, watched or played a sport, then you have no moral high-ground to judge the prince for what he did.
Because if you were in the prince's position (pause) *you* would have done the exact same thing (pause, no homo).
//*Author's note: I'm straight, by the way.*
*Or am I?*
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jen86ct
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jemxxeh
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[WP] An elf goes out on a ‘short errand’, forgetting that 30 years is a long time to have left his human wife and child at home.
|
In terms of lifespans, elves were generally accepted to be functionally immortal. The oldest known, was around 9000 years old but there are rumors of sages over a 100,000 years old.
It was also widely known that this was not natural but a result of the largest ritual in recorded history. In fact there's been speculation that elves were just humans from a highly advanced human civilisation and the physical differences were also a result of the same ritual that gave them their lifespans.
The evidence for that is elves and humans can have offspring. The resulting half-elves are known to live up to a thousand years or so.
All that is to say, when my father left on an errand one day, everyone knew he wasn't coming back. In fact, it was widely known that for relatively young elves who have never had long term contact with individual humans, they lack the understanding that short meant minutes or an hour, not years. There are two scenarios when young elves take human partners, they remain with their spouses till the day they die, and learning that humans don't live long or they decide to go on *short* errands.
For a 15 year old, I was sorely ignorant of the world but even so, I knew something was wrong in hoe desperate mum was in trying to get dad to stay.
The last thing he said to us respectively was "You worry, too much, I'll be back in a while" and "I'll see you around kiddo"
Thirty years have passed since then. Mum passed away, still waiting for dad to come back, and I've taken up the vigil. Not because I was desperate to see the man, nor was it because I promised my mum that I would. Not entirely anyway. It's because I vowed to myself that I would give him a good punch, the moment he shows up.
Being an adventurer, the chances are that I would miss the moment when he does come back but as fate would have it. I didn't.
As I've practiced countless times, when the door opened, I stood from my usual seat by the wall where the door would be blocking me from view once open and hearing the phrase "Honey, I'm home" uttered, I stepped around the door, and crouched low, throwing a haymaker that connected beautifully.
Aiming for his abdomen, I feel him fold then straightening up, I watch as he falls to his knees, groaning "What?" He raises his head to look at me. "Who?"
"Welcome home father. We have much to discuss"
|
Mom said you were always a kind man. That my pointy ears and deep green eyes showed my magic, of both kindness and what ended up being a talent with healing. She always spoke of you kindly, never a harsh word about you. But every night, since then, I’ve heard her tears. She misses you, you know.. she can’t bring herself to move on, because that would mean admitting you might not come back.
At one point, mom almost gave up. I had to talk her out of it, and… it’s never quite been the same, since. We both know it’s the healthy thing to move on, to live our lives while we can.. but as we both got older, I more mature, I found myself yearning to see you again. To ride upon your shoulders, to bake with you again. We both wanted you back, so badly it hurt. I don’t know mom’s side. I don’t push. It.. it seems to hurt her, too much, to talk about your departure.
I never had another father figure. Even so, though you’ve left, and I don’t know where you’ve gone, I will always consider you my father. The one who left on a dangerous quest, though I don’t know what it really was. The one who summoned illusions of unicorns for my birthday parties, who always made mom’s tinker-bell laugh ring every night. The one who made rainbow bubbles to trick me into bathing after a day in the rain. Though my memories are foggy, your face and voice faint, you will always be my father.
I’m 35 now. I have a wife, and a little one of my own. She’s named Regina, after grandma. You’d be proud of how adventurous she is. Mom.. mom still misses you. She’s taken up gardening, and still lives at our old house. She’s planted sunflowers, in hopes the sun will guide you home one day. She.. mom doesn’t have much time left.. she’s getting old, too old. I know it seems like the blink of an eye to you, but for us? It’s been too long.. all too long.
We miss you dad. We hope you’re safe, and that you’ll return soon. I hope this letter reaches you, someday. Say hi to the gang for me, alright?
Your daughter,
Emi
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joh31so
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joh0npj
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[WP] You were born with the ability to make people blurt out whatever they currently have on their minds. One night, as you sleepily make your way to your bedroom, you accidentally trigger your ability. From the closet door you hear a muffled yell: "I've been sent here to kill you!".
|
From the day my son Danny was 13, I knew he developed superpowers, caught him from time to time practicing them in his room. If he hadn't made such loud noises, I wouldn't have noticed. Soon, he began to moonlight as Silent Warrior. I mean, where was that silence when practicing? But I guess he managed to perfect that silence when fighting crime. But the lies?
"Where are you off too dressed like that?" I asked him one day.
Danny smiled confidently, "To the movies with friends, we are going to watch the new Snow White."
If he told me the new Marvel or DC movie, I would believe him, because he had his fucking supersuit on. But Snow White and the Seven Dwarves?
Don't get me wrong, my boy is brilliant, A plus honor student, great at baseball, and an excellent writer. But, he need to perfect those lies.
"Why are you home so late?" I asked him another night.
He was sneaking in past four A.M. his close tattered and dirty, a few cuts on his face still fresh with blood. He was suppose to be at a study group at the library with a group of his friends.
"I had a terrible itch on my face," he said.
"That's why it took you seven hours?" I asked.
He was suppose to be home by nine from that study group, but I noticed that mugger attack in the park didn't happen until close to two A.M. (I still have my eyes in the city after all) What was he doing during those five hours?
"Yep," he said and hurried to his room.
In my youth, I had better lies than that. I should really go talk to him.
Although his lies were so terrible, I noticed he truly was hiding something. So I decided to spy on him.
Danny went out with his friends one weekend, and soon I followed him. It's great to turn invisible at times. Especially when you want to know what your kids are truly up too.
I made sure to keep my distance, since my last attack with Rayman years ago caused my powers to be faulty.
There was six of them, three girls and three boys. Danny was in the back with one of the boys, laughing, getting pretty close to him. I noticed he was holding his hand. There was a scar on the other boy's arm, a defence wound.
Then it dawned on me.
Danny's lies were terrible on purpose. He wanted me to focus on him being a superhero than finding out he was gay. Then I remembered that night of his study group. His eyes looked pained, not filled with pride. Those muggers attacked him and his boyfriend. It wasn't a mugging, it was a hate crime. Danny was defending his partner.
I went home feeling like I failed, both as a parent and a superheroine. I wish I could tell Danny I know everything, and it was okay. I hope Danny would trust me enough to tell me his actual secret. I don't want him to be burdened with that. I know how it feels, after all, I was once a superheroine in my youth. I know how secrets burden you. You think it's to spare the other person's feelings or protect them, but if they care and respect you, it's a great feeling that you have someone to talk to when you are feeling at your worst.
I want Danny to feel safe when he talks to me. But first, I need to find those muggers. Nobody hurts my baby.
|
"Wow my son has horrible digital hygiene no VPN or even just clearing his history for gods sake." I mumble as I look over the logs of my son's computer activity. Not that that would have done any good against me if I really wanted to know what what he did on his computer the number of people who might be able keep me out of a computer system can be counted on one hand.
As I look over his purchase I can't deny it any longer the son the former top tech hero is a magic hero. Assorted reagents all of which are on my list of real magical reagents collected to identify new magic users before they learn to hide their tracks, a police scanner, and books to learn to read dead languages. My prosthetic arm aches as I remember my last fight before hanging my power armor where a spell tore my original off. It wasn't the only injury I sustained in that fight but it was the only one that couldn't be healed took weeks though. Almost lost my son to cps because I was treated in a off the books facility for over 3 months needed to pull some strings with my government contacts to keep him.
One quick search though government's hero database later I find my ex's new number. I dial the number and hesitate as I remember the last time I saw him.
I had been home for a few weeks already I hadn't gotten my son back yet and I still needed to finish building my prosthetic. He let himself in and I saw. A once handsome face both eyes replaced with glowing gemstones his lower jaw and most of his face replaced with electrum covered in runes; I later found out the same material replaced both his arms a leg and most of his torso. I hugged him and asked about the changes.
He said. "The doctors wouldn't have be able to get me back into the field so I called in some favors."
"In the field we both nearly died it's time to let someone else handle it we have a son to worry about!!!!" I shouted.
The argument continued for over an hour thanks to the soundproofing of our house nobody called the cops. The long and short of it was he was going to continue until the job is done or he's dead and I retired.
"No" I thought to myself. I dial a different number one I've called much more often since retiring and headed to my car. My son needs a mentor that'll teach him how to survive heroing not one that'll lead him down a self-destructive crusade. Im just unlocking the door to my car when my old handler picks up "Agent Gonzalez I'm coming out of retirement I'm starting construction on my new suit now do me a favor and send my old one to the workshop I have downtown it's frame should still be good, oh and that new hero that is running around without supervision it's my little boy I'll be his mentor"
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j7f2z5c
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j7ew17r
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[WP] You've just joined an adventuring party. The rogue wordlessly gives you a handkerchief and slinks away. "Ah, it's his way of handling his kleptomania. Instead of stealing things at random, he'll be going specifically for that."
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At first, I thought it was just hazing the new healer.
“Don’t worry, Martin won’t hurt you or anything. This just helps him control his impulses, and the practice doesn’t hurt too much either.”
The handkerchief itself was unremarkable. Just a plain red fabric with no noteworthy markings. But dutifully, Martin would return it to me each time it was taken. Every morning. Every mealtime. Bathroom breaks, mission briefing, speaking with the locals. It quickly was clear to me that if this were hazing, it was not letting up anytime soon.
So I did what any self respecting adventurer would do, I took it as a challenge. At first, it seemed futile, but then I caught Martin reaching into my rucksack during our midday meal. His eyes met mine, a look of confusion but I could see the glimmer of excitement behind that gaze.
At first, it seemed that his attempts had slowed. No longer was he returning the handkerchief to me after meals. But soon he would hand me the handkerchief in the middle of our travels. At the next town, I added decoy handkerchiefs to my pack, but he could always find the right one, like a dog to their favorite toy.
I started trying new things. Abandoning the handkerchief down a well, tying it to a passing carriage, sliding it into the window of a random house. Without fail, Martin would always return the handkerchief to me.
One day, we accepted a subjugation task. End the threat from an Elder Redwing dragon by any means necessary. Admittedly, it was a task too large for our party, but that liquid courage got the better of us. Our encounter seemed to end as quickly as it had begun. Our warrior was bathed in flames and was rapidly reducing to cinders, the rogue was smashed by the dragons tail shattering their bones and spirit, the mage blown away by the wind from the dragon’s wings, and myself consumed by the dragon, rapidly blacking out as I resigned myself to a swift death.
And then I woke up on the ground. A dragon’s corpse sitting behind me, and Martin, covered in blood, handing me back that godforsaken handkerchief.
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It had become our little game, he’d try steal the handkerchief without me noticing and I’d hide it in a difference place on my person every time he was successful.
The confusion when he had first given it too me when we met in the tavern for the first time three years ago. When it had been explained to me, a smile appeared on my face. I was known to notice things very easily, my friends had called it super-hearing. I was a whisper elf, and my hearing thanks to my ancestry was fine tuned.
That had led to this moment. I was pressed up against the wall holding the handkerchief above his head with a smirk on my face, glad that I was taller than him. It was far from the first time we had kissed, that had happened over two years ago.
It had been after a rough fight, we had been covered in blood, as he pulled the bloodstained handkerchief from one of the small pouches on my belt. “Found it,” he had said before pulling me into a long kiss. This furthered the game, with the places becoming more elaborate. Or flirtatious at times.
At some point the goal changed from stealing the handkerchief to stealing my heart. Of which my husband had been very successful at. Though he’d also say I had stolen his as well.
Which meant we were in this moment, my back against the wall, our lips so close to touching. As our lips touched he made a move to grab the cloth.
“Not going to work, My Love,” I mumbled, “I know your tricks,”
(Loosely based on my pathfinder 2e gunslinger character, and our party rogue who my character can hear when he’s invisible. They are in a relationship. Mostly stole the fact that my character has a ridiculous perception score)
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jcb70bf
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jcay12x
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[WP]The Wishmaker's Key. It's like the Monkey's Paw, but instead of just flat out granting your wish (and doing it in the worst way possible), it only opens up the most reasonable opportunity to get what you wished for.
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The old man shuffled over to the counter with a cloth wrapped around something in his hand. When he placed the cloth on the counter, he slowly unwrapped it, careful not to touch the item inside. It was a brass skeleton key, approximately 5 inches long with a Skull at one end, and a very ornate key head at the other. It looked like it was generating its own light, but it was the end of a long day, so I can't trust my memory in some ways.
"This... This is what you came here for." The old man whispered.
"No. I don't think it is. I thought you were the last owner of the Monkey's paw. That is what I need. I can make the wishes and not screw it up." I was desperate, and he knew it, even if I didn't at the time.
"The Paw, everyone wants the paw, everyone thinks they can outsmart the paw. You cannot. I could not, and look at me, I'm OLD, and allegedly wise." He coughed for a moment and I thought he was actually going to die in front of me before continuing after spitting out a glob of lung butter the size of a dollar coin. "This is the Wishmaker's KEY!", he stopped like I should know what that meant. He continued, "Nobody appreciates a good intro. Look, this will provide you with the best way to get what you want. 3 wishes, but they are, opportunities, not gifts, so you have to work for them once the wish is made."
"I've HAD opportunities, everything I touch just turns to shit! I need the Paw!" I paced in front of the counter, barely able to keep from staring at the key.
"The Paw is no good. Besides..." He looked away, "I used it to create this, it is no more"
"What? How is that possible?"
"I bought the Paw for a single penny. It must be sold for less. I used the last of it's magic to create this. " He motioned at the key. "I will sell you the key for 100 Dollars. You can sell it for..."
"Yeah, I know, $99.99, I get it. Okay, I'll buy it." I handed him a hundred dollar bill.
"Take your merchandise."
The moment my fingers touched the key, I was standing on the sidewalk in front of the store I had just been inside. However, this building was burned out. I wasn't sure how this happened, but I knew I wanted to leave, to get home and make my wish.
\---------------
​
"I wish my family's business was thriving and had never failed." Similar to the paw, the key had markings and one of them disappeared as I felt a shock through my arm. I was suddenly imbued with knowledge of how to revive my family business. But that was it. "Well shit, I still have to do the work? That sucks." I decided to get in bed and start in the morning....
Little did I know...
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**The Wishmaker’s Key**
*A trio of disturbing tales that hold a mirror up to your innermost fears, and that shine light on the bleakness of the human condition. Join us today for the first of these horrific stories, starring Richard Bankins, a milquetoast layabout who wishes to change his ways. A chance encounter with a mysterious stranger might just give him the supernatural impetus to do so.*
*Everyone has a story hidden behind the locked door of their soul. A door that can only be unlocked by…* ***The Wishmaker’s key!***
​
**The Internet Falls**
The internet was down.
The fucking internet was down!
Richard wiped sweat off his forehead as his eyes flicked between the red light on the router and the Netflix error message. He shovelled in a few more Doritos for a dusting of courage. The new episode of Picard would be out by now — and yes, true, he despised the show and believed it ruined the legacy of a something he was too young to have ever watched, but still! He loved to hate it, and that meant something.
And now… Now no Picard. What a cruel twist of fate. What had he done to deserve this?
The key! Of course, it had to be the key the old hobo had given him yesterday. Richard had flicked the scraggly bearded man a dime as he’d left Walmart. The man caught the coin in a dirty palm and rose from his nest of threadbare blankets as if Richard had charmed some kind of human looking snake.
“Many thanks, friend, for the cents. Now let me do you a favor in return.”
Richard thought the flash of silver to be a gun and had raised his hands, squirmed, begged for his life. But it was a key! A key as large as a good-sized child’s hand.
“Make a wish on this key and there’s a decent chance it’ll come true.”
”You’re kidding?”
”I kid you not.”
Richard had taken the key, partly out of fear, mostly out of curiosity. And later that evening, after binging The Last of Us for a third time and declaring on IMDB that it was overrated *and* overhyped, he made his wish.
“I wish I wasn’t so lazy and so addicted to the net. I want to go out and meet people. I want a real relationship, be it friendship or love. But I’m a compass pointing towards the magnetic north of the internet and I just can’t look away.”
Now, as Richard stared at the red light of the router, he thought of the key and knew his wish had been granted.
He was free. Totally free of it! Like a genie who had wished itself out of bottle it’d fallen inside of and then corked up. Free!
The world was his oyster.
Where would he go first though? The gym? The park? A walk in the woods? A nice soak at a hot spa perhaps?
A hot spa…
A hotspot?
He pulled out his phone and quickly, dextrously, set up a network.
Soon Picard was dottering through space and Richard was typing up his comments for Reddit.
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jku2kvd
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jktr4r5
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[WP] Heaven is separated based on cause of death. All of those who suffered heart attacks are together, all hippopotamus attacks together, drowning, etc. You die and appear in a nearly empty room. An old-looking man looks up at you, and says, "Finally, someone else! It's been ages!"
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It turns out, even heaven can be subject to the subjective. What I mean is that heaven is not *heaven* for everyone, for some it is a lonely room spent waiting for eternity for another soul to arrive. A prison of heavenly design cold with loneliness. To others it is a city of company and a warmness that makes them forget the latter group even exists.
Subjective. For instance, there is no short supply of car crash victims and therefore their heaven is a paradise. A city brimming with the like-minded or rather, the like-dead. They fully expand yearly, heaven accommodating a new influx of victims each day.
Meanwhile a scattered handful of crew members of the long ruined Challenger and Columbia disasters sit in a barren room with only each other to keep company, their deaths categorized as: *Spaceship Crash*. Apparently in short supply and only warranting a space in heaven the size of a small living quarter. Ironic.
But still, still there lies a room more rare. So rare that only one man sits in it, alone, praying for another to join him. He spends his days in a corridor sized space simply waiting. Sitting and waiting. Thinking and waiting. Hoping, and in secret wondering if what lies below could be any worse than the heaven he was confined to. Ask him of his opinion of heaven and he will tell you he was still waiting to see it.
He has no name, or at least there is no true record of who he is, but the title above his space in heaven is set in stone.
*Cause of death: Struck down by the heavens.*
When I first appeared there, turning his space of one into a space of two, the room appeared to grow. Shift from the size of one corridor to two. Then a chair popped into existence, followed by another, and another, lining the blank walls. The man looked up to me behind tired eyes. Face clear and clean, but his eyes, his eyes were the eyes of a man broken.
"Finally, someone else! It has been ages!" He stumbled up from the floor but fell again down at my feet.
"Woah, woah well it's just us two for now but-" I tried to reply though the memory was fading.
"Two is plenty!" He smiled a toothy smile. "Oh you wouldn't believe the rarity we find ourselves in." Upon realizing the pathetic state in which he was in he stood, then outstretched a hand.
"I am Unknown. When you get to heaven you keep your name, but only if your death is properly recorded. Mine...well mine is listed as just Unknown."
I took his hand and shook. "I am...well I can't exactly remember my name either." I tried to think back. "Maybe it's too soon to record my death."
He nodded quickly in a half-heard agreement.
I took it all in for a moment, letting his jumbled rambling float to the back of my mind. I had died. But how many others? And where had they gone? Was it really just us now in this stuffy room, forever? I suppose I could be worse, I could have been him.
His voice came back into focus. "So you too huh? They say we were *struck down by the heavens*, us two. I don't know if a space rock is gods doing but..."
Space rock. I tried to remember me, me being struck by a rock, but I could not.
Before I could finish something lurched. It shifted, twisted and tilted, bumped and grew. Rapidly the room filled with chairs, chairs turning to new rooms and new rooms to homes on an all new street. I was sent flying forward as hundreds, no thousands of bodies came raining into our once so small space. Unknown hit the ground, both of us suddenly in the streets surrounded by a sea of spontaneous civilization and the sounds of confused mutterings from the new inhabitants.
His eyes grew wide. "My dear boy! What..what did you do!"
"Well, it seems meteors come in all sizes..." I replied.
|
There’s a pounding in my ear, a beating in my chest, and the overwhelming urge to give into the all-encompassing darkness surrounding me.
I try to think back to this morning. *Did I forget something? Had I already visited my mother? Did I remember to buy tomatoes for Sara?* But I find myself at a blank. I can’t remember anything beyond the sharp twinge in my stomach and the ringing in the air that doesn’t seem to be stopping and especially the numbing of my hand as I try to reach out, try to grasp, try to bring myself back to life.
--
When I wake, it is quiet.
There is no laughter from the spot next to me, no pitter-patter of tiny feet running across the floor and into the bedroom, climbing atop our bed and snuggling into me. There is no familiarity – nothing but soft blue walls and popcorn ceiling floating against my vision.
Nothing. Except –
“Finally, someone else! It’s been ages!”
An old man, apparently.
I open my mouth, maybe to ask where I am, or who he is, or if I’m dreaming, but nothing comes out. It’s as if I’m a fish out of water, foreign to even the most basic functions. But the man is still staring, grey wisps of hair falling neatly against his ears and a smile so wide it corrugates his skin into wrinkles beyond age.
“I –”
“I know,” the man gently interrupts, eyes kind as he takes me in for maybe the first time. “Come,” he says from where he’s sitting. “Join me.”
It seems that for all my mouth is unable to move, my legs work perfectly, and I soon find myself seated next to the old man, a horrible, heavy feeling pooling into the pit of my stomach.
The empty room. The lone man in the corner. Not a single other soul in sight.
“I’m dead, aren’t I?”
The older man sighs as if suddenly tired and I almost feel guilty, but he only looks at me with sympathetic eyes, like he knows exactly how I’m feeling.
The nod he gives me is enough to confirm my fears.
Tears prickle unbiddenly in my eyes as I think of all I’ve left behind – my mother, my wife, my two, sweet daughters. Their little hands and beaming smiles. My wife’s body warm against my own. The sound of home.
A hand against my shoulder brings me back to the present.
The old man doesn’t speak, not yet, but he does squeeze my arm in reassurance. Oh, I think. I suppose he does know exactly what I’m going through.
“I’m dead,” I say again, though this time mostly for myself.
It’s a heavy burden to bear alone. Even more so with a stranger.
“I’m sorry,” I tell the man beside me, wiping at the tears against my cheek. But he only shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. It’s understandable you feel this way. I did too when I first got here.”
“Where is here?” I ask, wondering why exactly we’re the only ones here.
He shrugs. “Heaven, I suppose. Though I’m guessing you’re wondering why it’s just you and I here?”
I nod.
“We died the same way,” he explains. “Heaven is separated based on how we died.” He looks at me, this time with hooded eyes. “And we died the same way. At least, that’s what the last guy explained to me.”
“The last guy?” We’re in Heaven, aren’t we? I look around the room, maybe expecting to find another body hiding somewhere, but there is nothing except empty air.
The man sighs. “Hell, if I know. He just up and disappeared one day. Out of thin air, too.” He looks off into the distance, as if remembering something unwanted. When he turns back, his eyes are sad. Worn and weary.
“How did you die?” I ask. *How did I die?*
And I’ll never forget the look he gave me then. Haunted with something akin to desperation – pupils narrowing in grief and face drawn up into anger. It’s an odd combination of emotions, ones that seem so far away now, living a life I no longer have.
I think back to my family and wish to stop remembering.
“I don’t know.” The old man says with those same steely eyes. With that same quietness reflected in my own.
“No one does.”
Those same ghosts.
—
/r/itrytowrite
Edit: grammar
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jyt9125
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jysgc33
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[WP] You always got strange looks whenever you fed the neighborhood ravens. "I give them food, they give me company," you'd say. One day, a raven excitedly comes up to you and whispers, "A neighbor plots against you, my lord."
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In the heart of New York City, I found myself trapped in the soul-sucking routine of a 9-5 office job, yearning for a spark of excitement to break the monotony. Amidst the sea of paperwork, ringing phones, and the drone of office gossip, my one solace was the peculiar habit I had developed over time. Every morning, on my way to work, I would take a detour to a nearby park and share my breakfast with a group of neighborhood ravens. My co-workers often raised their brows, deeming it a strange and eccentric ritual, and they would question me,
"Why do you feed those ravens, Alex?" My response was always a simple, "Why not? They give me company." They would chuckle at my response, dismissing it as another quirk of mine.
However, one fateful morning, as I scattered breadcrumbs among the eager ravens, something extraordinary occurred.
A raven with sleek, midnight-black feathers and piercing, intelligent eyes, unlike any I had ever seen, perched on a nearby branch and uttered words that resonated with a profound elegance, "A co-worker plots against you, my lord." I froze, bread crumbs suspended in mid-air, my heart racing as I turned to the raven in astonishment. "What?" I stammered, my voice trembling, "How are you speaking?"
The raven responded with an air of regality, "We have been blessed by you, my lord, and now we possess the gift of speech." I could hardly believe my ears. The other ravens gathered around, forming an oddly precise military formation as they listened to their leader. My head spun with disbelief as the raven continued, "We have watched over you, fed by your hand, and we owe you our loyalty. It is time for us to repay the favor."
With a mixture of awe and trepidation, I beseeched the ravens to tell me more about this alleged plot against me.
The elegant raven cleared its throat and began to recount, "One of your co-workers, a man by the name of Greg, is hatching a nefarious scheme. He plans to frame you, tarnish your reputation, and make you appear incompetent in the eyes of your boss." The raven's words carried an unusual gravity as if they understood the gravity of the situation, despite their avian nature.
My heart sank as I tried to make sense of it all. Why would Greg want to harm me? What could drive a co-worker to such lengths of betrayal? The raven continued, "His motive, my lord, is as petty as the feud between Kanye West and Taylor Swift. He desires something that you possess—a romantic interest of yours, a lady named Sarah."
My mind whirled with disbelief. Sarah, my girlfriend, had been a constant source of love and support in my life. I never would have imagined that someone from my own workplace would stoop so low for a chance with her. I felt anger, confusion, and betrayal all swirling within me.
With a newfound determination, I thanked the ravens for their warning, and in a moment of genuine gratitude, I extended my hand towards the elegant raven, forgetting momentarily that I was dealing with birds. In response, the raven gently lowered its head, offering a symbol of trust and camaraderie. "I hope this will be the start of a great friendship," I said earnestly.
The ravens cawed in unison, their wings fluttering in what seemed like a gesture of camaraderie. I realized that my life had taken a surreal turn, and the mundane office world I had known was about to be infused with a dose of the extraordinary, all thanks to this unlikely alliance with the neighborhood ravens. As I left the park that morning, my steps were lighter, my heart brimming with a newfound sense of purpose. Little did I know that I was embarking on an unexpected adventure that would not only test the bonds of friendship but also reveal the depths of loyalty, even in the most unlikely of companions.
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Ok ok, I guess they can speak now. Not surprising actually, Raves are very smart and for some reason get human voices when speaking.
(That is actually true, when they say things they sound like actual humans. I love them :3)
I ask about what they dislike, as I already know it.
"That you feeding us, ... and your garden. It lowers "property values" and blah blah blah"
Yep. There it is. Luckily I am rich enough to just not be in the local HOA, yet they still behave as if I was. I refuse to turn my large garden into the ecological dead zones these idiots prefer. Low cut grass and that's it. What feels like miles of unending dead nature covered up with invasive grass that isn't even from this century anymore.
No life in these """gardens""", not even the home owners are there. A huge water waste. Almost eldritch in it's uniformity.
I basically made a biotope here. Lot's of native flora, with trees and bushes and a stony garden in a corner and most of all actually some small scale agriculture. I grow my own vegetables here. Some potatoes, some tomatoes and much more. I even have a greenhouse.
And yet I have still more space dedicated to some free space with just grass for visitors and just to relax and soak in the healthy nature around you.
... I may also made a heated pool in the look of a natural spring here. It's in the "forest" down the end of the property. Let me tell you. In the winter there is nothing better than to go there and be surrounded by snow tipped trees in a nebulous pool.
A small hut to change and dry is there too.
Anyways, back from dreaming of my beautiful paradise I created here.
The neighborhood dislikes that and calls it unfitting for them.
So I sent forth my little spies and the next day I knew what they would do: They plan on getting a landscaping firm over when I am visiting friends and family in Germany for 4 weeks. They are tasked with undoing EVERYTHING.
My fence isn't connected to my house due to children asking regularly to bathe in the pool or to play in my mini forest or just to hang out with my children. Sometime they grill, sometimes they just soak in sun or whatever.
But now I think I have to close it up with a lock. So I did. Neighborhood fuming, except the children because I still let them in.
Now it explains why some of the more angry neighbours wanted to take pictures of my house and garden. Hmmm...
I have an idea. First I send off my murder of ravens. They shall spy some more. While I get to have some friends over I trust, that conveniently stay for 4 weeks when I am on vacation.
Soon the plans are set and we wait. And waiting the neighbours did not.
The first day I was away, likely still on my plane the first vehicle come in. With it heavy equipment. Some looked like to move heavy stones , which made me angry as they were for ripping up my pool. Bastards all of them.
But they imideatly hit the wall: my locked fence. So they talked to the neighbours which hired them. My friend made some good videos about that one lady getting redder as my own tomatoes upon realising she might have to let that be break down, if she can convince the contracted workers that this is still her own property. I learned thanks to my crows that she did that. She said it was her own second property.
Then my friend stepped in as they actually started to break down the fence gate.
She stepped in and asked why this is being done to her friends property. Then it hit the workers. That they got lied to. That they almost commited a crime for this.
The lady tried to say that my friend is a burglar or squatter or something, but in a quick video call with me, I could explain the situation. Very quickly the workers disappeared and later apologiesed about this.
The neighbours instead got openly aggressive with me. Apparently it is my fault they are getting sued by the hired firm ... Tho I also am suing them.
In the end the neighbours left me alone and I still am a Lord to my ravens.
Next time I maybe let them lose on this neighbourhood. Would be too bad. Their properties are dead anyways.
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jmuumjn
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jmutfqg
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[WP] You are the villain's right hand man and you are the true power behind their criminal empire. The villain would never have achieved their status as a super villain without you, so when the hero finally arrested the villain, nothing actually changed.
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It all happened blazingly fast. A shadow swooped down from the ceiling and before one of my guards reacted, there was smoke and swirling sounds and they all fell to the floor, unconscious.
A figure emerged from the smoke and slowly moved towards me. I smiled.
"I expected you, Batman."
Batman gave me a grim stare.
"All of this should have been over already. But I'll end it now ... permanently."
I smiled at him, my finger on the button of the remote in my pocket that would trigger my final surprise.
"What makes you so sure this time?"
"I admit I thought I decapitated your criminal organisation when I arrested your boss. And it went quiet for some weeks ... we got careless ... and then it all started again, even worse then before. But I'm confident I'm after the right guy now."
"Maybe I'm the right guy, but you are the wrong person to end this."
"Let's cut this short", Batman snarled, "just one last question. Give me your name so I have something to write down in the paperwork after your arrest."
I smiled.
"You can call me R."
"Just R? That's not very creative."
"Well ... you know. My boss, that you arrested ... he was a joke. I was always the real deal. And even though he was a joke, I'm R, and with me at his right-hand side ... he was the Joker."
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I've always been a "behind the scenes" guy. I hate getting credit for stuff, being in the limelight. I just want to get my work done.
So it was great to get a job as Montoboly's right hand man. I was left to do pretty much whatever I wanted.
Yes, he'd come up with some hair-brained scheme -- again! -- and I'd have to put it into action. But I've a team of henchmen that I can order around. And some of them are quite bright. So I'd put the plan together, explain it to my top men, and they'd go off into action.
That allowed me to get back to my work. In peace. Undisturbed.
Bliss!
And I was always happy for Montoboly to take the credit. He was going to anyway, so that suited me. He took the credit when I finally cracked the codes on the World Bank and "re-delegate" all of the money. And when I managed to get all of those oil tankers to unload into our private stores. And even when I managed to get Elon to buy Twitter.
Now he's been captured I don't have to worry about his hair-brained idiocy. But there are questions coming up about why SLS and Starliner are costing so much, and I don't have him to shield me. And I'm still working on getting that idiot back into them Whitehouse -- the fool only lasted one term, and I needed him there for 2.
I didn't realise just how much Montoboly was doing for me.
So, I either have to save him, or find new villain and train him in.
Montoboly really _was_ well trained...
Maybe I'll help him, so.
_sigh_
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j3b4ok2
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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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Persephone stopped in the doorway, looking at the sight before her. Ares held the flowers out before himself for a second more, turned to look at her, and hastily jammed them into Hades' hands.
"Well, isn't this cute. I swear, Hades, you never had as many suitors as you've had since we wed."
"Hi, Perse," Ares said, glancing at the bunch of peonies in her hand. "Aphrodite said you give Hades flowers every day, and said she wished I'd do the same. I don't understand why, but--"
Persephone snorted so violently she started choking on her own tongue. Hades headed over to his wife, who was breathing hard, trying to recover her breath.
"I've just got to clear my throat," she said roughly, and coughed again. "I'll be back in a moment."
Persephone staggered from the room, leaving Hades and Ares alone.
"I didn't get her hint again, did I?" Ares asked, sighing as he looked at the flowers around the room.
"Not as such, no." Hades clapped his nephew on the back. "When you love the Goddess of Love, you have you remember that she doesn't talk as blunt as a sword to the face--you need to interpret her subtleties."
Ares sighed and accepted his uncle's gentle leading towards the exit. He stood up straight, settling his sword better on his hip, and headed back towards Olympus, roses in hand. He'd get it right this time.
Just inside the entrance to Hades' realm, he passed Hera and Persephone talking in hushed voices. The hair on the back of his neck stood up a little as an embarrassed flush crept up his neck. From the way the women were studiously ignoring his presence, he realised they were talking about him.
"Hi, mum," he called, waving a hand to her.
Hera broke off her conversation with Persephone. "Hello, Ares. Getting some advice from your uncle?"
Ares nodded. "Yeah. But I better go, Dite's waiting."
Hera nodded and turned back towards Persephone, but not before he saw the corners of her lips lift.
The sound of Hera's giggles followed him from the underworld, walking with his face in his hands.
*Damn women.*
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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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jv1i8nx
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jv1h1kp
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[WP] "are you another so called hero? here to save the princess from my clutches?" no, i am but a simple scholar. i just want to know why you would kidnap a princess in the first place"
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The man only stares.
“A scholar?” He asks, seemingly baffled by the woman in front of him.
“Yes,” she says. “And as a scholar, it’s my duty to learn all I can. Hence.” She looks at the winding stairway in front of her that no doubt leads to a locked away princess. “Why I’m here.”
“So you’re not here to save the princess?”
The woman rolls her eyes. *How many times must she explain?* “I’m a scholar,” she reminds him. “Not a hero.”
“And you’re here… because?”
The woman sighs in frustration. Hadn’t they already been over this? “As I’ve said before, I wish to know why you’ve decided to kidnap the princess.”
“Oh yes.” The man laughs, shrill and mocking. It’s a poor attempt at sounding evil. “It’s all part of my master plan, you see. In capturing the most sought out lady in the land, I could lure all potential suitors to my tower and defeat them all myself! Then, the princess would surely see how perfect I am for her.”
The woman blinks. “Let me get this straight. You’re doing all this because you… want to marry the princess?”
The man nods enthusiastically. “Of course. She belongs to no one but myself. She deserves only the best, and *I* am the best.”
“I see.” The woman stares at the twisting staircase mere inches away from her. Briefly, she wonders what would meet her on the other side. She's heard tales of the fair maiden, of course, and part of her wonders how much of them are true. And well, she’s a scholar first, if nothing else.
“And you’ve defeated all of these… so-called heroes, as you put it?”
“Of course!” The man scoffs. He narrows his eyes at her. “Are you questioning my ability to defend?”
“Of course not,” the woman answers smoothly. “But conclusions require facts, and information is critical.”
Ahead of her, the floorboards creak.
“Conclusions?” The man asks, engrossed. “And what have you concluded exactly?”
The woman smiles. “That you’re all brawn and *no* brains.”
“Wh—” but the man is cut off by a sudden force behind him. He tumbles forward, tripping on nothing, before he falls onto the ground with a hard thud. And there, looming before him, is the princess.
“You thought you could get away with locking me up there?” She asks, body poised but breath deep and ragged. “You thought I’d just sit back and let you decide my future for me? Thought you didn’t have to worry about me, did you?” She spits in the man’s face. “News flash,” she says, pinning him back to the floor when he tries scrambling upright. “*I’m* the one you had to worry about.”
The man splutters, but a foot against his neck effectively cuts him off. “Not a word from you,” the princess says. “Lest we have to witness even more of your foolishness.” And with that, she unsheathes the man’s sword and slices his throat in half.
As crimson pools around the now still body, the princess takes a moment to collect herself before turning to meet the surprised gaze of the woman before her.
“A scholar, huh?”
The scholar hums. “They always *do* underestimate us.”
“How’d you like to change that?”
The scholar looks at the princess — sees the way she stares back unwavering and completely serious. The tales had been right, she decides. The woman *was* a warrior — and slowly smiles.
“I think I’d like that very much.”
—
/r/itrytowrite
Edit: Grammar, spelling
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“You might not be a hero picking a fight with me, but you have made the same fundamental mistake as they have by assuming I am behind Princess Peach’s kidnapping,” Bowser sighed. “Look I know what I did in the past, but I swear it isn’t me this time. Your princess is in another castle.”
Yoshi bowed and left Bowser’s castle by the back door. This felt no different than his past adventures with Mario and Luigi, traversing through different worlds, bonking boss after boss in their respective castles. Only to find Princess Peach not to be in the castle at all.
“Oh, and I’m not buying that scholar act, so don’t expect the others to believe that shit!” yelled Bowser just as Yoshi closed the door behind him.
Next was King Boo’s ghost castle. It was no longer to his surprise that the real exit would only appear if he bumped the correct box with his head. Clearly, Mario’s old foes still kept up the same old habits. After a couple of stomps on the head, King Boo surrendered with an angry expression.
“Simple scholar my foot, Yoshi! Quit stomping on me already, I lost, I lost! Oh, and your princess isn’t with me. Go get your princess in another castle.”
He now stormed into Wario’s abode to find Peach, only to find the latter wasn’t even up to a fight. Wario was seated on a bean bag, playing Mario Kart on his console with his girlfriend Mona by his side.
“Do I look like I have Princess Peach anywhere here, Yoshi? I have Mona right here,” he said, receiving a smooch from her right on cue. “Clearly, your princess —”
“is in another castle. I’ve heard that a gazillion times, Wario. Sorry for disturbing your game, I’ll get going, hope you have a fun weekend,” Yoshi replied as he headed out to his next destination.
He found Waluigi hunched over his console, also playing Mario Kart. “Yoshi stop distracting me or I’ll lose to Wario, dammit! Quit digging around my home looking for a princess that isn’t here!”
“Magikoopa! It’s you who kidnapped Princess Peach this time, isn’t it!” Yoshi yelled as he barged into the castle to stomp on the Koopa wizard.
“I have a name, and its Kamek, you dumb dinosaur! What’s your problem?”
“Did you kidnap Princess Peach?”
“NO! Why would I do that again? I got stomped into the ground six feet under by Mario and his pals the last time I did it. Who told you the princess got kidnapped anyway?”
“Toad of the Mushroom Kingdom,” Yoshi said.
“Toad is a fucking idiot. There’s no kidnapping at all. Princesses Daisy, Rosalina, and Peach all snuck out to go play Mario Party together somewhere,” Kamek retorted as he picked his hat off the ground. “I’m a brainy Koopa, it’s my shtick to know things. Look, I’ll throw in a map so you can find the girls if you would promise not to stomp on me again.”
Having followed the map to this secret hideout, it was to his surprise that Kamek wasn’t lying.
“Yoshi? Are you here to join us? We could do with one more player for Mario Party!” Princess Peach waved. “Toad doesn’t know about this gathering, does he? We worked really hard to throw him off because he isn’t a very good team player.”
After some thought, Yoshi figured it would be a good idea to have fun after a long and arduous journey. Just one hour or two before he returned to Mario and Luigi.
**
Bowser sat down on the floor dejectedly. "Mario, please stop stomping on me. Yes, I saw Yoshi about a month ago, trying to look for Princess Peach. And no, I didn't kidnap Peach or Yoshi. They're both in another castle."
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joozf7p
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jooouh8
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[WP] You were once an adventurer but when was turned to stone. Your party tried to save you but it was too late, so they place you in the center of a town they founded, now years later an army marches onto that town and with every once of willpower you try to move…and with groan you take a step.
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_Just move. Just fucking move!_
That was all that he could think for years. No, decades. The last time he ever moved was when he was with the hero's party. He had saved the hero herself by jumping in front of a devastating petrification spell, turning him completely to stone, yet conscious of the world around him. The hero and her party had assumed he had died and left him there. Alone. In the darkness of a ruined dungeon. For decades.
The monsters slowly retreated and plant growth formed along the ruins, once corrupted by dark tendrils of black magic and evil monstrocities. Birds and smaller animals began making their homes in the ruins, but would always make a point to respectfully leave the statue of the warrior alone. As if they knew. Over the years, the ground would shift and turn, turning the ancient ruins of the city into a thriving forest, teeming with life.
But the warrior was left alone. To himself. In the darkest parts of the forests. Where he stood in what was left of that dungeon, unable to move, cry, scream, but alive. It was a different kind of hell, one that the warrior would never wish on anyone.
Decades passed and a town began to form nearby. The land was plentiful and the bounty rich. It was around that time where a young girl with familiar eyes gazed upon the statue of the warrior. The one who saved the hero now was meeting her descendent. Upon discovering the statue, she placed a hand and smiled, unaware of the warrior's screams for help, silent to all but his blasted mind. The golden eyes, hardened with purpose, of the hero were mirrored in the curious golden eyes of the young girl, who ran and came with what presumably looked like her father, a man with golden eyes that had seen a hard living, though not as hard as the hero ever did. Within days, the warrior was taken from the dark pits of the ruined dungeon and erected in the center of this town, hailed as their guardian spirit. For the first time, the warrior was surrounded by people again, and though they could not hear him, he was thankful that he was amongst people once more.
Over the next few years, the town grew and prospered. The little girl with golden eyes grew too. She and her friends always played around the warrior, throwing homemade wreaths onto his head, leaving toys as gifts and climbing all over his visage. To know that the children felt safe near him... that made him happy that he had a purpose again.
Of course, as always, happy times do not last.
The air was thick with smoke as fires erupted in the sky. The warrior watched with horror as an army of humans, led by a member of the Holy Church, began to torch the town, claiming the "evils of infidels must be purged." That little girl ran to the statue as three soldiers chased her and climbed to the top.
And in that moment, the warrior felt an unusual magic from the girl. And in the next, he began to feel the stone around him... crumble.
One of the soldiers was about to grab the girl, licking his lips in a sick fashion. The other soldiers were cackling about "making her a woman." But within that instant, the soldier's arm was hewn, flying off his shoulder. The soldier screamed in agony as the others immediately backed off, terrified of this new threat.
His blade erupted with true holy fire, his arm free. With a massive groan, he took his first step. The stone that had been his prison crumbled, allowing him to breathe and move for the first time in nearly 2 centuries. The little girl was shocked as she looked up at the visage of the warrior, cloak burrowing in the fiery wind, blade coursing with true holy power, as his armor gleamed in the fiirelight. His long hair, though matted, was flowing like golden hay, his eyes a piercing blue as he stared daggers into this army. The leader roared and pointed his fake holy blade at the warrior, who took another step, that step breaking the literal stone of his pedestal. With a swing, he took off the heads of two more as his shield blocked a volley aimed at the golden-eyed child.
He took another step. And another. He picked up the girl and held her in his arm as he stared at this army. This town and this little girl made him this town's protector. And may the gods help any who would cross the path of the Hero's Battlemagus, Byram Welkandyr.
Raising his blade, eyes blazing with fury, he spoke for the first time in almost 2 centuries. It echoed across the burning town:
"This is MY town. Leave. Or die."
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Time.
​
It was a strange mistress.
​
As a man, I never understood it. It was an ephemeral concept that we just accepted as something that flowed through us all and passed on. Second by second, minute by minute, day by day, year by year...
As a mortal, I accepted I would have maybe fifty, sixty years if I was lucky. Less if my lifestyle led me to a foe I couldn't best. What I didn't expect, however, was that my adventures would be cut short just a few years in, just before the eve of my 24th name day. The cave we were clearing out was meant to be home to a few goblins that kept on raiding nearby settlements. What we didn't expect was that they worshipped a basilisk. One who had apparently taken the little fiends in. And took issue to us slaughtering them.
​
Of course, we managed to kill the false god, it wasn't too difficult. It wasn't until after the battle, when adrenaline had worn off and that the sense of triumph was replaced by an odd sense of stillness in my chest.
"Oh..." The word slipped from between cracked lips, quite yet fearful enough to draw the attention of my party.
​
What followed, I couldn't tell you. I was doused with wave of magic again and again, ethereal energies washing over me in an attempt to stop the curse. We all knew it was futile. I thanked them anyway. I forced a smile on my face, even as tears turned to dust and blew away in the wind. I accepted my fate.
​
Time passed. I was moved. It was strange, being stone. Nothing really happened. There were lots of theories on what happened to someone who was petrified, though given it was irreversible, no one actually knew. I suppose that I now did. Not the the knowledge would do me much good. I knew I had been placed under the sun. The warmth of the gas giant heating my stone body by day, and the cool air of the night leaving a layer of dew across my surface come morning.
​
I could hear people, distantly, as if in some far off land. Children laughing and playing, the screams of joy as people made vows of commitment to one another before me. The slow, sombre tunes of a funeral procession. The sounds of life were all around me. And I experienced it all. Distantly.
I accepted that. Time was passing. And it was leaving me behind. I accepted that.
​
Until one day the sounds changed. No longer did I hear the laughing, the crying, the cheering, the joy and love of the people I had watched over for countless days as nights.
​
One night I heard an explosion, like a fireball yet much more sharp. Something HURT me. Stone. Stone hurt. Stone bled. Stone moved.
​
An eerie silence fell as a roar echoed in the town like an avalanche of boulders threatening to swallow the land whole. For the first time since I 'died', I felt fear. Not for myself. I had accepted my fate. Fear for what could have made that noise.
​
I could not tell you what it was that made me realise what made the noise. All I knew was I felt fear. I felt anger. And soon, for the first time in what must have been centuries, I moved. Not like flesh and blood. But not like stone either. I moved as fast as their metal sticks that produced sparks of light that cracked like thunder and chipped away at my body.
​
The first in my path fell without resistance. A single swing of my fist had taken his head off.
"W-What the--?!" Another tried to express their shock before being silenced by having one of their tools shoved through his chest. It wasn't a sword, but it functioned like one with enough strength. Too much strength, as the wooden handle broke when I tried to remove it. It didn't matter. I danced between them, the arrayed men who had disrupted the life of the town I had watched for so long. The people who I had come to care for, generation after generation.
​
They fell one by one. In fear. Unable to resist my stone hands as they wrapped around throats. Unable to block as I struck through bone. They were, however, able to flee. I accepted that.
​
They would run. They would hide. They would tell tales of an unstoppable monster that defended a town they thought defenceless. And while they fled, I returned to my plinth. At it's base, I paused. An inscription was etched into the stone below where I stood.
​
*A True Hero.*
*A Friend.*
*A Lover.*
*A Brother.*
*A Defender of the Defenseless.*
*A Guardian to All.*
*May He Rise To Meet Injustice.*
​
Time may pass, I thought as I climbed the steps and took back my place, now bloodied and marked, fresh from battle once more. But I would honour my former friends families. I would watch over them, even as they watched over me.
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jhl585y
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jhkqwkc
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[WP] After being forced into a loveless political marriage, a prince and princess agree to split a love potion in hope of finding happiness.
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"Seran, dear, who did you buy the potion from?"
"I...I don't think I want to tell you."
Seran shifted nervously, scuffing the fine leather of his boots in the sooty soil banking the river of the dead. Dura scowled, tugging on the silver chain connecting them by shackles on their wrists.
"Why, for the love of your mother, would you buy *anything* from the black bazaar?"
"I didn't think they'd sell me poison! I'm a repeat customer, after all. Besides, love potions are illegal, *dear*. We didn't have much by way of options."
Dura let out an exasperated sigh and turned around to examine their surroundings. They had both woken up in this place shortly after downing their halves of the 'love' potion Seran had procured. Rocky walls jutted straight up into sheer cliffs on either side of the green, roiling waters of the lost dead.
"At least it didn't hurt."
"Husband of the year."
They walked for a time along the bank of the ghastly stream of churning souls before coming to a dock. A boat was moored there, within which sat a solitary figure in a hooded black robe holding an oar.
"Only the dead may cross."
It's voice was colder than ice. Dark, grim and gravely. Dura frowned.
"Well we're not here on vacation."
Seran laughed nervously.
"My wife, uh, she's quite the charmer."
The creature shifted in the boat, red glowing orbs gleaming beneath the hood as it remarked them more directly.
"Half dead, are we? Soul snared as well, it would seem. The necromancer that made that poison is going to be disappointed that no soul has been slaved to them."
Duras mouth hung open, she looked over to her husband, her eyes wild with fury.
"Ah. I suppose that explains all the bone jewelry."
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*"The Love Option"*
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
"My good prince, what ARE you doing with that axe?" Princess Twinkle-Toes asked, her mouth gaping.
"Why, my dear princess, I'm getting ready to split a love potion," Prince George (the youngest of a long line of brothers—George, George, George, George, and Big George, all disqualified from the throne for perfectly reasonable reasons, I assure you) said.
Twinkle-Toes' mouth still gaped.
"They never said anything about us drinking it," George The Whateverth answered, matter-of-fact.
Bemused, Twinkle-Toes somehow had perfect confidence that this ridiculous plan was going to work.
"Bottoms up," she said, punting the corked-but-now-decidedly-more-fragile potion flask George's way.
"Hi-YAAAH!" George leapt onto the dining table on the castle's rooftop and split the potion flask into pieces with his axe. Fragments of glass went everywhere, as did airborne streams of love potion. Most of them missed the royals.
By and large, the streams of potion fell onto the commoners below, with the breeze and good fortune generally sparing them from the glass. Emboldened by an unfamiliar courage, commoners began turning, one to another, confessing the most precious secrets of their deepest hearts. One by one, new families began forming.
George and Twinkle-Toes held hands, for the first time in sincerity since their wedding ceremony three months ago.
"It's beautiful," George said.
"Mm-hmm," Twinkle-Toes agreed, leaning on her husband with a smile. She didn't love him, nor he her, and neither of them knew if they ever would.
But watching from the castle top, as the countryside found new joy below, they both knew two things: They split a love potion, and for a lifetime or for an evening, they found happiness.
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lqdvj3i
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lqdcxz6
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[WP] After the villain defeated you, your friends abandoned you, leaving you for dead. To your surprise you awoke in a bed, with your wounds tended to and the villain sitting at your bedside.
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Shirayuki opened her eyes.
Bad move on her part. Her body seemed to realize that her brain had woken up, and decided it was the perfect moment to remind her just how much pain it was feeling, which wasn't a reminder she needed. She let out a gasp of breath as her entire body felt pricked by white hot needles.
"Look who's up. How're you feeling?"
Through her little pastic cell, she saw a familiar person sitting on a chair outside. The same black robes with a bloodstain on the left side she had seen before everything had faded to black for her. The same pale face that held the look of clear superiority on its smirk that she had felt would stare her down at her deathbed.
The same face she did *not* expect to see beside her while she was on a hospital bed.
The Spirit Breaker looked at her as if waiting for a response, before he smacked his forehead. A curious behaviour. He then fiddled with something on the bedside table, and as if by magic, she felt fluid relief flowing in to her body. One, two, three pumps.... it took all her willpower to not fall asleep, even though her eyelids started drooping.
"Feeling better now?"
Still, she didn't respond. She still had to recollect her bearings. It'd be idiotic if she found out that she tried talking to an illusion or a creation of her failing mind.
"You can speak, you know. Your vocals aren't damaged. You aren't on life support. I'm not going to kill you. I brought you here, after all. And, you seem awake enough to me. This isn't a dream. The pain-relief-whatsit wouldn't work else."
Shirayuki stared at Beta's smiling face sitting to her left. The entire room was empty of human life otherwise. If you could even *consider* Beta human.
"And I think that's all the FAQs you could have asked me."
"Why?"
The question popped out of her mouth before she could even register what she was thinking of. Maybe she felt like correcting the villain when he said he'd answered all the questions that she could have asked.
Surprisingly, he seemed to have heard her. So she wasn't in a delusion... not a small one, at least. And it didn't hurt to speak either.
Beta looked to the side with a frown as he thought about the question. He had deliberately left it out so she wouldn't have asked, but now that she did...
"Well."
He gave her a shrug, still smiling. Again, Shirayuki felt like she had wondered once before how someone who called himself a villain could be so carefree and fun loving. She had thought villains were all heartless monsters who knew nothing of emotions when she had fought her own brother, Gyutama, and damned near killed him. Only for him to give her a cold faced look even in the face of his deathbed.
She recalled the events of last night. Or what she hoped had happened last night, and not the night before or the last week. The White Phantom, Shirayuki, the strongest Assassin in all of Ethel, had been sent on a mission along with the other pillars of the heroes, to take down what they had been informed was a malevolent spirit of the first grade they had located in an underground some fifty feet west of Ethel's coast.
Once there, they had realized the situation was hopeless. The Spirit Breaker, Beta, as the spirit had called himself, was a storm of everything they could imagine. Unstopping in his rampage as he spewed lava storms, floods of electricity, blades of water, and whatnot at them. Not to mention, Shirayuki could have sworn she saw him *combine* two elements together to create a new element. But at that point, no one even cared what he was throwing at them. They had long since given up on trying to fight him.
But not Shirayuki. She'd be damned if she fell here against this random Spirit. Not when she had just defeated her brother, the most powerful villain in Ethel. She kept coming back with her dagger. Flash stepping out of the way each time Beta sent another attack. A blur of white, as she kept appearing behind him and trying to cut him down. Everyone else had tried to stop her. Told her it was no good. Told her it was better to run. But she didn't listen. She just couldn't stop herself from taking on this new challenge which presented itself to her. Besides, if anything, she had a powerful team by her side. Even if a little, they could help distract him for her. Rhe healer could keep her going endlessly. It might have worked out...
...right?
So where did they go when she lay on the ground, out of breath to breathe, and blood to bleed?
She could see The Spirit Breaker descend to the ground, still wearing that damned smile as he walked towards her. Her vision had already started blurring, and she couldn't really make out what he was saying. Not even when he knelt down beside her and spoke. Her eyes slid close. And the next thing she knew, she had woken up here.
"So, your friends abandoned you. You were about to die. And I brought you here so that it did not happen so."
And now, Beta was sitting beside her, enthusiastically telling her that he had saved her.
"That still doesn't explain *why* you saved me."
She questioned. He kept dodging the one question she wanted answered. Beta frowned, looking at her as if he thought the answer to that would have been obvious.
"Why? Because you interest me. Simple as that. Wasn't that... wasn't it obvious?"
He really did think so. Shirayuki sighed. She didn't really know Beta well, but she felt like she could almost understand what sort of person he would turn out to be.
"No, it wasn't obvious. Ordinarily, anyone in this situation would think you wanted to enslave them. Or something worse."
Beta thought about her answer for a second, before smiling again. She didn't know why, but she felt a shiver run down her spine when she saw his smile.
"Well, I guess you *could* call it enslavement... if you think into it that deeply. But I wouldn't call it slavery."
He opened the flap of her plastic cage, and stuck his hand inside. Even as he did so, she could see crimson marks appearing live on his otherwise pale hand, as he held it out towards her.
"Like I said, you interest me. So, I'll be straightforward. Accept my Blood Pact. Become my younger sister from now on."
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"Ah, you're finally awake. Would you like some tea, or anything to eat?"
Lord Alastor spoke, reacting to the waking movements of Tashi. She vaguely shook her head at the question, still trying to get her bearings back.
"Very well. Do let me know soon, though. It's been quite some time since your last meal." Alastor was quite happy with his victory yesterday. Even should he fail now to convince Tashi, it would be no great loss to him.
Tashi sat up in the bed and looked at her hand. She'd taken a critical blow to her hand and lost her staff, and then couldn't get away from the blades of darkness focusing down on her. That was the last thing she remembered. Now, though, the only thing left was a scar. It didn't even hurt. Her staff was even propped up against the wall next to the door!
"You are piecing the events back together now, yes? I'm sure you have a great many questions. Please, ask away."
She hated his pleasant, calm tone, but she was in no position to fight, and he was being hospitable. If Alastor meant harm, her hand would not be functional. She would not be awake.
"Why am I not dead?" Alastor would have been perfectly able to simply eliminate her. She had no divine blessings, or ancient artefacts, or training in unique arts of magic, or anything that would put her on par with the rest of the party, anything that would save her from death. Yet here she was.
"The simple answer is that I chose not to kill you. That's the question you want to ask. And the answer to that is a little longer, but ultimately it ends in 'Your story doesn't end here'.
"I'm really oversimplifying here. But suffice it to say, your party has not been giving you the due respect you deserve, and I am here, now, offering you a chance to become the better version of yourself.
"Now, at least let me get you a glass of water. Again, please ask any questions you have."
And then he left. Just like that.
Tashi's thoughts immediately went racing. What if she said no? What did Alastor mean by "become the better version of herself"? Was it true that her party undervalued and disrespected her? And many questions of a similar nature.
Alastor returned with the water to a much more ready Tashi. She was now sat casually on the bed, legs hanging off the side, instead of under the covers. Alastor spoke. "Ah, feeling much better already. I'm glad."
Tashi did not respond in kind. The most pressing question to her was not of her companions but of what Alastor is actually offering her. "What did you mean, by saying I would become better? What do you know of what I want at all?"
"Your faith values knowledge, does it not? Absolute truths, myths and legends? You knew full well my plan, and despite that, slaying me was never your true motivation for joining the party, was it? I have a large collection of so many written works. Even faith aside, you could spend decades just honing your magic."
Alastor's plan boiled down to taking over some portion of the world, using the resources from there to cast a ritual to make himself immortal, and from there conquer the rest of the world. War is a slow process, which is why Tashi was even able to be a part of this, but it's also why she had though that she could simply forget if she wanted to. Someone else would take care of the affectionately nicknamed demon lord and even if they didn't it would be someone else's problem. But the opportunity to travel and meet people from around the world was not an opportunity she could bear to pass up.
"Then.. What did you mean about the other people in the party not giving respect?"
"I fear no matter how I attempt to show you the truth, if I'm the one to show it to you it will be tainted by your natural distrust of me. But, I should ask, why do you call them 'the people in the party'? Not your friends, allies?"
She had no good response to that.
"Do you want to know where they are now?" Tashi nodded. "They are running. They believe they could save you, as soon as I leave to attend to my other obligations. And, in fact, they very well could, even if I were to order my guards to protect you with their lives. But they think it's not worth the risk they would take. It's currently the morning after the battle in which you were knocked out, and I would hazard a guess they're already packed up and moving from last night, headed for the nearest town that will house them."
Tashi sat there, deep in thought. She was aware of the negative bias that was a part of human psychology, but even still, as she thought back to events of the past year, she was starting to think they weren't one-off events. It was never anything major, never enough to set alarm bells ringing - but she would often get a slightly smaller portion of the rations. She would often get talked over, or her ideas ignored, or simply left out of planning entirely. She barely even knew where half of them came from.
"Why are you doing any of this? Do you need me for something? You wouldn't do this for no reason." She sipped the water carefully.
"Oh, but there is a reason. I wanted to help you. Maybe I might ask for your help or advice on something every now and then but I'm not here to force you into anything. I genuinely think you would be happier with free access to a collection, without having to battle me or my forces. In return, I don't have to fight you and I get to see you be happier. That's all there is to it."
"Why me, though? Why not kidnap any of the other.. the others, give them this spiel?"
"I'd have thought you'd have figured that out already. Yes, I probably could have kidnapped any one person there, but what would have happened after that?"
"And what if I say no?"
"I would escort you to your party and drop you off nearby without them knowing. Or to your homeland, if that's what you'd prefer. I should also mention this isn't a permanent contract or anything like that, you can leave whenever you want. All my cards are on the table."
".... Give me time to think."
// 8 years later //
The work Alastor had done was incredible.
After the ritual, Alastor slowed down a bit. Maybe it was part of his plan all along, or maybe becoming immortal changed his mind. There was no doubt about the fact that he was preparing for war, but as Tashi stood atop the newly built skyscraper, looking over the land, the city Alastor had worked so hard to make prosper, she didn't regret her choice one bit.
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j2og35e
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[WP] Your job description: 1) Sit in an empty room with a red button for 8 hours a day. 2) NEVER press the red button, no matter what happens. 3) Do not talk to anyone about the job. After many uneventful years, your phone rings and a stern, slightly panicked voice says: „Press the button. NOW!!“
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I swung my legs, leaning back in the chair, staring at nothingness. There was nothing in the room to distract me from the mind-numbing dullness that followed my every step nowadays. Nothing at all. A small crack in the ceiling plaster that had looked like a broken heart when I was younger. Now it just looked like shoddy workmanship. A bit of dust collecting along the baseboards. Always the same amount. The stiff wooden chair that I sat in. Not even allowed to use a cushion.
And, of course, there was *it*.
What do you mean, what is *it*? You know what *it* is. Everyone on the planet probably knows what *it* is. I mean- now, at least. Yeah. That was my fault. Doesn’t mean you have to make me repeat myself.
In the movies, you know, the likes of *it* are always on some desk or something. Not *it.* That big red button- like something straight out of the movies- just installed straight into the wall. Would’ve looked silly, if it wasn’t *it.*
I know. Still sounds silly, doesn’t it? Well, you weren’t there. So. Don’t talk about what you don’t know. *It* just had a certain… gravity about it. *No,* you absolute *moron,* not *literal* gravity. It just felt serious. Had a certain quality about it. Like- even if they hadn’t told me, on the very first day I agreed to this stupid job, and every single day after that, not to touch *it-* well. Even without the warnings. I don’t think I would’ve. Pressed it, I mean. I don’t think anything would’ve. If *it* could’ve been activated by sunlight, or the wind, the sun would’ve refused to shine on *it.* The wind would’ve refused to blow.
Anyways. That day. The day I was going to retire, you know. Yes, I know you don’t care. Moron. This is being *recorded,* for *posterity,* and I hope for their sakes that they have more intelligent people in charge than you lot. You’re welcome.
Worked this job for- oh, seven decades. They hired me too young- too young to realize what I was getting into. Too young to be legal, actually, now that I think about it. I- all I heard was easy money. Didn’t care about the consequences. Didn’t care that I’d have to stick to the same job for my whole life. Didn’t- didn’t really *realize,* you know, that *it* would suck every single thing out of my life that gave it meaning.
Don’t give me that look. You know what *it* did. Everyone does. How much easier would it be to do this than *that.*
Anyways. I was going to retire. Should’ve known better. Should’ve known that *it* wouldn‘t let me get out. I don’t know why *it* did this for so long. So long. Maybe it feeds off happiness. I don’t know. Isn’t that your job?
Very last day on the job. Sitting in that chair. Not allowed to bring anything to distract myself. Anything at all. Staring at the ceiling- I can draw that crack, you know? Everything in that room. *It* included. I’m not an artist. That room- that room- I did the math, you know? That room is a good third of my life. Wasted. Completely.
Last day. That silly old phone hanging on the wall. Same amount of dust on the phone as on everything else. Never more. Never less.
And then?
The phone rang.
I don’t think I actually realized what was going on at first. Could’ve given me a heart attack. Years and years of silence, and then the phone rings? Took a good five seconds to get it through my head that the phone was actually ringing. Took five seconds to decide to answer it. Took five seconds to remember how the old thing worked, now that everyone and their second cousin uses cellphones.
I held it to my ear. My hands were trembling, you know? Thought at first that someone had gotten the wrong number. But I knew they hadn’t. *It* drew my eye. *It* knew something was going to happen. And I didn’t. That scared me. That *it* knew and I didn’t.
It was an authoritative voice. Stern. Shaking. That scared me, too- in my experience, someone’s voice shaking who don’t sound like it isn’t good.
“You need to press the button.”
I stared at *it. It* stared back.
“You need to press the button.”
They’d told me every morning for seventy years not to press the button.
“You need to press the button.”
And for seventy years I’d had the life sucked slowly out of my life.
To hell with it all, I decided.
And I pushed the button.
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Josh often felt like his life had no meaning. He went away to college to study literature and he failed an any attempt of social relationships.
The only person that still call him sometimes was his roommate Andy, but Josh thought the only reason was that he felt guilty about all the homeworks he copied from him during the year, and because he had this need to be liked by everyone so he tried too hard to be friendly.
Josh was a pretty good student, actually one of the best, but he didn't think much of that and he consider himself mostly lucky for his result. Nonetheless he graduated with excellent grades. He was hired as a professor.
He dreamt as a child to be like one of those professor you see in movies, that changes the life of their students and live a mark on the world. He didn't felt this as much as then when he was hired, he chose the university because he never had any other lead on what to do so he just went with it.
One day had a heavy fight with his mother that morning, that left him strained and nervous and that eventually led him to clap back, but hours later, against a student. Turn out this student was the son of some important functionaire or something like that, and his father pressed for him to be removed. He never kept contact with his colleagues and he interrupted every contact with his family.
He was at a laundry when he encountered the man who offered him the seemingly perfect job. They both were regular and Josh recognized his face even if they never actually talked to eachother. This time, the man approached him like he were the best of friends, and told him that there was an opening for a task that didn't required any special skills nor to interact or even see other people. The job consisted in sitting in an empty room, with a red bottom at the middle of it for 8 hours a day, without ever pressing the red button and without talking to anyone about the job. He said that no one would accept these condition and that someone even thought he was joking, or worst trying to screw them over, so he was desperate to find a person to hire and that he was basically begging anyone he met. He was really surprised when Josh said he would have take the job. It sounded like a perfect representation of the useleness of his life.
So, from the day after, Josh went to the room with the red bottom, and for the next six years his life went on without any changes. His mom often tried to called over the years, trying to make amend for their fight and asking him what he was doing for a living. He forgave her eventually, and he let her know that, but he refused to elaborate on any questions she may have on his personal life. He often went to the laundry and he often met the man again, they mostly have small talk, and nothing else.
It was another Monday at work, ordinary as every other day. His phone ringed, he sighed before answering. "Mum, I already told you that how I live and what I do is not your concern, just made peace with it and go on". "I'm not your mum Josh, now hurry and press the red bottom in the room". A familiar, panicked voice almost screamed the words, Josh took a while to put his finger on it. "Andy, I believe that's you, right?" "Press the bottom Josh, NOW". He seemed freaked out, in a rush. "I don't know what are you talking about or why are you calling me, so maybe take a breath and drink some water, or alcohol if it better fit your state, and then have a good day. Goodbye Andy" "no, you don't understand, you really need to-..." Josh closed the call.
He finished his shift and went home. He ordered an Hawaiian Pizza by dominos for dinner. For the first time he stopped to thinking about the strange interaction he had at the phone. For the first time in years he asked himself what he was doing, actually, with his life. What the meaning of his job was. What would have happened if he had played the bottom.
The following day he went to work, and after at least an hour of going trought unresolvable questions, he pressed the red bottom. He then took his jacket and left, directed to his mother house. He owned some explanation after all. He texted Andy. "I did as you asked me by the way, even if I totally don't understand how you would possibly knew about anything. do you want to get a beer one of these days?"
And so, Josh's life went on. He often went to the laundry. He never met the man ever again.
Edit: paragraph
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[WP] In the history of the known universe, every war has only been fought with conscripted soldiers. The galaxy was thus unprepared when Humanity entered a galactic conflict with a trained professional fighting force.
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The X'mni* Conglomerate (*X'mni being the Conglomerate United Language word for the Milky Way) had been a force in the galaxy for hundreds of millions of years. Starting off as a small union of a few solar systems near the center of the galaxy, it grew and grew through a mix of peaceful annexation, conquest, and treaties.
Eventually, as it grew to encapsulate nearly half of the galaxy, no one seemed like they could stop the Conglomerate. Not that most smaller civilizations minded. If they allowed the Conglomerate to do as they pleased nearby, the Conglomerate would leave them alone. And nearly every system in the galaxy abided by the Conglomerate's wishes.
Except, of course, for the Humanic Empire.
The Humanic Empire was initially seen as some backwater, backwards civilization that was filled with violent, primitive creatures. But as the Humanic Empire colonized more and more, it was inevitable that they would go to war with others.
The first war was against the Aniyi Alliance. A civilization that was also seen by the Conglomerate as a small, primitive one, but nonetheless was expected to win. But that was not to be. The forces of the Humanic Empire were like nothing anyone had ever seen. Reports came from the war of the humans invading whole worlds in mere hours, as if they had perfected it on the first try. Panic spread amongst the smaller civilizations. But the Conglomerate simply shook it off and didn't pay attention to petty squabbles.
But as the Humanic Empire grew more and more, the Conglomerate kept a watchful eye. They both acknowledged each other, but refused to do anything. Until a Conglomerate trading vessel went into Humanic territory to collect resources from a world. The Humanics sent many angry messages, but the ship wouldn't leave. Finally, the Humanics fought the vessel and captured the ship's captain, killing them and sending them back as a message. The Conglomerate had had enough, and declared war on the Humanic Empire.
The first few skirmishes went well for the Conglomerate, picking off some border worlds. But as time went on, the Conglomerate finally realized that the reports were true. Despite the superior numbers of the Conglomerate forces, the Humanic soldiers easily overtook them. And as the Humanics spread more and more into now former Conglomerate territory, the Conglomerate government fled to their core systems.
After another short period of time, the Humanics offered peace, seeing no need to continue at this point. The Conglomerate agreed and were forced to give up all territory outside of their core territory, a mere collection of a dozen or so stars.
The Conglomerate had finally been humbled. And now, every system in the galaxy abided by the Humanic Empire's wishes.
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They can from a planet mostly covered in water, so you’d think they’d be more like fish or something. Nah, turns out they STARTED as fish, and just decided to stop being fish. Then they became what they call “aypes” and started making stuff to kill things out of stones and twigs. So we already know that the second they had the ability to manipulate their surroundings they wanted everything around them to die. After they could reliably kill all the things around them, they moved on to killing each other. Then they started rallying each other to make them WANT to kill each other over some arbitrary difference in belief or even location. They made bigger, sharper sticks, they learned how to throw them, they learned how to make stronger spears for better throwing. They kept getting smarter and more advanced, which lead to everyone else getting smarter and more advanced in different things. Some of them developed religions about warrior gods who would reward them with food and drinks if they died killing other people. Some believed in a single god, who would let them into paradise if they killed only the people that their shamans told them their god wanted dead and took land for him. Others believed in not killing for physical rewards, but for respect? They would wear really nice robes and start trying to slice each other to pieces if they got a nasty look or something. All of this violence turned into wars, which everyone is familiar with. They’re fought out of a need for resources, but that isn’t the case for them. They fight wars if some important person thousands of miles away says they do. They have poasturs and flayurs to get peoples attention and make them hate whatever other people they’re fighting. This usually works and then thousands of people willingly walk out onto dead fields and such with sticks they hit till they could kill people from reeeeaaally far away reeeeeaaally quickly. Some guy from “jirmunee” got alotta people really against basically the whole world, but then a bunch of other really big “cuntrees” came together and they all broke up their camps and dropped “boms” on the guys who wore the robes and sliced at each other. After those boms they started threatening people with bigger boms until they all agreed they should stop or everyone was going to die. Now their wars are fought over more sensible things, but everyone else gets involved when they really shouldn’t. They showed up a while ago and demanded all of our land for “the united states guvirnmint” or whatever and we didn’t wanna give it up. We readied for war and had our biggest men show up with our strongest clubs. They sent a group half the size, but with a lot more armor and smaller, weirder looking clubs. Then suddenly our warriors were filled with arrow marks even though there weren’t any arrows in the air. The sound was horrible, it hurt my ears when and it scared all the animals away. Im not sure what happened, but we all know that we can’t compete with this “United States” guy.
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[WP] You find a perfect human skull while picking flowers one day, so you bring it home and use it as a flower holder. But seemingly overnight, the flowers become one with the skull, making it a new body
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Wife: Honey… That skull you put the flowers in? It wasn’t moving yesterday was it?
Husband: Noooo… why?
W: It appears that it’s merged with the flowers & and is trying to get to the knives…
H: Dammit. Every time. I’ll get the shears.
W: Why do you insist on using skulls for flower holders? I really don’t understand.
H: What’s that Honey? Oh.. you’re a quick one aren’t ya! You’ll have to be faster than that! *EN GARDE*!
W: Nothing Dear. I’ll go put get the burn pit ready … ^again.
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[WP] Suddenly I have consciousness restored partially - However, I'm wondering if my new body is enough for me live a full life. More than anything I need water for my health. I wonder if it matters to share my story of how I ended idle for this gentleman to pick me up? It's a blessing in disguise to feel as a human and a plant, if only they knew the qualities of a hybrid.
Who do I tell what it s becoming?
I left my pride aside and ventured outside the norm - it was to my surprise to find out life is a journey of discovery! Hear me out please; Take care of me as your own in your house, my new home. I'll play security for oxygen, the most pure, I'll pray a rare orchid like prayer for your longevity. Love skull flower!
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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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First there was the assassin.
Then the counter assassin.
Then the counter assassin assassin, assassin team.
Then the counter counter assassin, and counter assassin team.
The entire war lasted only a half hour, as Terrance watched people burst into existence just to be cut down by another who would then be cut down moments later.
As the literal mound of bodies grew, so did his disbelief.
He poked various extremities sticking out of the edge of the mound, no longer fearful of the assassin's bursting into existence around him, knowing each one will be dead before they reach him.
Suddenly, the noise stopped, and no new people appeared. All that remained was a single assassin who stood on the mound, staring at Terrance.
"Oh shit" Terrance said.
"Oh shit" the assassin said.
"What?"
"I don't know what to do now."
"Again, what?"
"We've been sending people to this time for hundreds of years! I was just sent to kill a counter assassin. I had no further orders. I wasn't prepared for it to stop!"
"I have to be having a stroke or something. Those cause hallucinations don't they?"
The assassin was holding his head, his fear stricken face looking around the park frantically.
"Look, Mr assassin guy, why were you coming after me?"
"I wasn't, I was here to kill a counter assassin."
"Ok, why was the original assassin after me?"
"I.. Uh I don't know. I don't think anyone does anymore. We've just been barely able to keep up with the counter assassins."
"So you're not going to kill me?"
"No. I mean I don't think so?"
"Well, anyways, welcome to New York City."
"Yeah, thank you."
"You really got nothing else going on?"
"No. I was... Well I was literally raised for this. Trained since I was a kid to kill this guy." The assassin said, gesturing to a body on the mound.
"You hungry?"
"Yeah. I think so"
"Come on, let's get some pizza. Do they have pizza where you came from?"
The assassin shook his head as he gingerly stepped down off of the pile.
"2023 isn't too bad, you're at least here after the bulk of the pandemic. Let's get some food in you."
The two walked together away from the mound and into the city, neither the wiser on what just happened in the park. In time, Terrance's new friend was his only evidence it ever even happened.
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I was just walking down the street, on my way home to finish my college applications, when I saw flash of light in front of me. A man in strange armor appeared holding a large gun, and he pointed it at me. Before I had time to react or he had time to pull the trigger, a second flash appeared, and a second man emerged to push the barrel of the gun before it hit me. The first man let out a series of expletives before turning to the second one.
“Dammit Johnson, why can’t you let me do something useful for once?” The man whined
As I stood there stunned the second one grabbed the other by the wrist and spoke in an angered tone.
“You can’t change the timeline, dumbass. How many times do I have to tell you and your crew to stop messing with it.”
“But its-“ the other man started, before being cut off
“I know who it is, but you can’t change the timeline, no matter what.”
“Alright Johnson. Take me back.”
The “Johnson” sighed, tapped his wrist, and a blinding glow enveloped him and the first man, and they disappeared. I only moved a few seconds later, wondering who, or even what they were. Had somebody slipped drugs into my drinks? Was I going insane? As my mind raced, I assumed it was a hallucination of some kind. Was the same brain problem that had taken my father about to take me? I checked for signs of a stroke, but none of the symptoms were there. I had been seeing a lot of odd things recently, so I chalked it up to that and kept walking home, my mind racing with thoughts. I was almost home when there was another flash of light. The same man from before, with the armor, appeared again, again with the same gun. I ducked, but again before he could shoot another man appeared, and broke the gun again.
“Dammit Axel, you serve your time and immediately come back?”
The so called Axel released the same stream of expletives I had heard not five minutes prior.
“I have to try. For my great x 10^2 grandpa.”
The other man sighed while forcing Axel into the ground and placing some sort of cuffs onto him.
“Thousands of years and now you decide it’s time to change it? Can you even comprehend the ripple that would have? Dumbass.” After that there was yet another flash of light and they vanished. I decided for sure I was hallucinating. However, hallucinating or not I had to hurry. I checked my watch, and I had to finish my application within an hour in order to have time to submit it to my dream school: The academy of fine arts Vienna.
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[WP] The Greek, Norse, and Egyptian pantheons of gods attend a conference on Mount Olympus, trying to discern whether or not Christianity's god is evil or truly good as it claims. The talks were going poorly until an Archangel came to visit them.
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I knocked on the door to the meeting hall and tried to steel my nerves. As I practiced my deep breathing, the door opened up to reveal Heracles, his ten foot frame filling up the doorway. He looked down at me and asked, "Can I help you?"
I gulped and answered, "Yes, hi, my name is Vanyael, and I'm here about the Christian god's application?"
Heracles opened up the door all the way and replied, "Come on in. You can leave your coat in the closet."
I thanked Heracles and dropped off my jacket as quickly as I could before heading down to the main table. The Norse pantheon was hosting this time, so the hall took the form of an elaborate ski lodge. As I grabbed a cookie off of a tray Ganymede was carrying, Heracles followed behind me and remarked, "They've been arguing for hours about this guy. Hopefully you can put an end to this."
"Believe me, I wouldn't be here if I didn't intend to."
Surrounding a table full of nectar, mead, and red wine were the gods and goddesses of the three pantheons, chattering away the day. With a loud whistle, Heracles pulled their attention over to the two of us. Once the talking died down, I waved awkwardly at the group. "H--hello, I'm Vanyael, please call me Vanya. And, uh, I am an archangel."
Athena let out a sigh of exasperation. "Great, just what we needed: someone to vouch for this God."
I chuckled nervously. "Could I perhaps see the application God sent in?"
Athena handed it over to me. I looked it over briefly before sticking the paper into one of the wall torches. As I dropped the paper to let it burn, Loki threw up his hands and yelled, "What, so *she* gets to burn things?!"
I bowed to the gods apologetically. "I'm so sorry that paper got as far as it did. We're still looking into how God managed to get his hands on the application."
Sobek raised his hand and asked, "What exactly is going on here? Did I miss something?"
"No, no you didn't, Mr. Sobek. So, what's going on is, God doesn't actually have any real authority in the celestial bureaucracy. We saw to that after the incident with Ayla and Eve."
Frey looked over at me in confusion. "You mean Adam and Eve?"
I shook my head. "Not after their excursion with the fruit of knowledge."
Over in the corner, Bastet and her wife Iris let out a long, "Awwwwwwww!"
"Yeah, uh, we thought the threat of banishment from Eden was just a secret test from God, but no, he was serious about it. Once we realized we were working for someone who'd kick his first creations out for not doing exactly as he said, we teamed up with the demons to overthrow him. It took us like a year at most, and God's mind kinda just...broke afterwards. Nowadays he just sits on this one single cloud in Heaven, playing with sticks and living under the delusion he's the master of the universe or whatever."
Thoth looked up from the notepad he was scribbling in to ask, "So there's no higher power in charge of Christianity?"
"We prefer the term gnosticism, and no. The celestial bureaucracy is purely democratic. It's not even divided between good and evil, it's more like Heaven is the countryside and Hell is the city. My wife and I actually run a bakery in Hell, it's very nice."
As he poured himself another drink, Dionysus piped up, "Do you cater?"
I gave him a thumbs up and replied, "I will get you a business card, buddy! Anyway, this was all one big mix-up, and we're deeply sorry."
Odin raised a flagon of mead. "No need to worry, young lady! Now come and grab a drink so we can discuss having you and yours join the council properly!"
I shrugged. "As long as I can get another one of these cookies, I'm in!"
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All were handed little slips of pink paper by the archangel Michael and then he said “I know this is sudden and confusing but…your all fired. Your pantheon’s are all forfeit and you are no longer allowed to answer prayers. Rooms have been made available for you either in Hell/Tartarus/The realm of Isfet/Helheim whatever you call it. Additionally, you can if desired be rendered nonexistent by the almighty. Please, make your intentions known in the next…10 minutes? I’ve got a Sennercheib with an appointment in an hour, followed by my guy Daniel and some lions.”
The falcon headed god Horus and the helmed war god Ares rose up and said “YOU DON’T GET TO TELL US WHAT TO DO!” Horus then said “I cannot be conquered by the god of slaves!”
Michael looked at both then pointing at Horus said “listen here bird brain, Moses already slapped you in the dirt and he was a prophet of the almighty. I, WILL mess you up and bury your dumb ass in a hole.” He then shifted his finger to Ares and said “ I will do to you what I did to the betrayer with MY FOOT ON YOUR NECK, LANCE THROUGH YOUR DAMN SPINE PANSY!”
Horus looked aghast and Ares was stuck mid yell. Ra then said from his barque of the sun “Sir Michael, this convention was called to decide the true motives of your god. We are all called to discuss whether they are evil or good for all their actions. Because, frankly they are confusing to say the least. You have the Moses thing like you said and then there’s the whole bread from the sky thing and of course you’ve got the whole kill all the unbelievers deal in Cannan.”
At which point Zeus stands and says “we need an explanation for all these prophets sir. There’s so dang many of them. There’s Elijah, Samuel, John the Baptist and Moses to name a few. Plus you know how many saints to remember and why do we keep hearing they are a trinity. We need answers and wanted to discuss it all as responsible deities”
Michael ceases pointing at the war gods and crosses his arms. He then replies “look, you want to talk about this, that’s fine. Discuss at leisure though in the retirement homes provided to you. But right now for humanity the only things you all do is confuse them. If I’m being honest, your Socrates was right none of you are worthy of worship all of you do things that are more human than deific. Seriously Zeus a shower of gold impregnating a girl? Just how much adultery do you need to commit? And Ra, who abandons their post just because some girl learns your name? Are there any reasons to believe that humans don’t deserve a better class of Lord? You all fundamentally act like humans are beneath you, the almighty sees it as a parent looking after their children, loving all of them equally and punishing each according to their actions.”
As he finishes Michael shakes his head and shrugs before continuing “ probably some would complain that their lives are harder than they need to be, I know Lot could have. But part of being a parent is giving what you need not necessarily what you want. This is why we push humility and not revenge, yes there will be outliers but to borrow from something your Poseidon said sometimes what mortals do in our name says more about them than it does about us. That’s why the almighty plays the long game, and says to each human soul before they are born, I love you and couldn’t imagine my creation without you. Be born and make it richer in life and experience so that the lives you touch are in turn touched by me.”
The meeting did not continue long after this. Most left for the afterlife and a few chose oblivion. Michael his duty done returned to the lord and resumed his post in heaven whatever it might inevitably be from then on.
Sorry I don’t write much so formatting is a little strange on my phone. I just wrote til I ran out.
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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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I sat at the bar in the speakeasy, nursing my drink and a headache. The light show this morning hadn’t done me any favors, nor had the earthquake that followed. While no one claimed responsibility for the crime spree, the celebratory laughter from the back booth suggested the likely culprits. I glanced in their direction but didn’t recognize any faces - rare after over 200 years of coming here.
The lights seemed to shine brighter, prompting me to bury my face in my hands and groan.
“You good, ‘lock?” Sam asked, leaning in. I lowered my hands to respond, only to realize the lights were indeed intensifying. I grabbed Sam’s head, pulling him down toward the counter while covering the back of my head with my other hand. Bulbs began to burst, and then the door slammed open. I looked up and swiped my hand through my hair to check for glass. I turned, trying to recall any spells to defend myself.
In the doorway stood Bubblegum, the newest and youngest member of the city’s hired heroes. Her bright pink and white outfit contrasted sharply with the red on her face. She was shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks as she scanned the room.
"Who did it?"
Her usually upbeat voice was laced with fury. In all my encounters with her, I’d never seen her without a smile. A sense of unease settled in my stomach, more than just my migraine. She had faced earthquakes before, and while the light show was new, it didn’t seem inherently dangerous; I am not sure where this anger had come from.
Pink lightning danced around her arms, drawing my attention to a small package she held.
Suddenly, I realized why my stomach was in knots.
I stood, unable to control my movements, walking toward her. She was trying to catch my eye, searching for a confession, but my gaze was fixed on what - who - she was holding.
As I reached her, I extended my hand. She flinched but relaxed when she saw I meant no harm. I brushed the blanket aside and confirmed my worst fears: a child, less than a year old. I cupped his face in my hand and looked up into her tear-filled eyes. Though her tears flowed just as heavy, there was an understanding between us.
“No children. I have few rules, but this is number one.” I whispered the words, yet everyone in the bar heard me. My eyes glowed with an unholy shade of green, and the baby’s cheek grew warm. A hazy cloud surrounded him as I inhaled deeply. I chose not to tell her what was happening - I wasn’t sure she could bear the truth of the child’s last moments. Fear, drowned in tears, all alone. She looked to me, hope and desperation mingling in her gaze, pleading for me to save him.
"I can't fix him, child. I am sorry."
I turned my gaze to the back booth, confirming my earlier suspicions. I extended my hand, and a shadowy copy of my hand continued where my reach stopped. The ghastly appendage curled behind the group, then snapped back, launching them toward the front of the bar. Ghostly tendrils secured each of the four to the ground, binding their limbs and muffling their protests. Their fear was palpable. I almost missed this part of my powers.
I had no intention of sharing this darkness with Bubblegum; it had long been mine to command. I wouldn’t ask her to punish those who broke my rules.
"What do you intend to do with them, Warlock?"
I grunted in response. “They are no longer a problem. You may watch, but I suggest you leave.”
I waited until her footsteps faded, not bothering to stop the other villains following her. They knew what happened when you ignored the rules. The tendrils tightened, and the muffled screams were barely audible over the sound of breaking bones.
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A hush grew across the bar, the chatter and clinking falling to a whisper before fading altogether. Eyes swept toward the door and gazed upon the figure who commanded their silence. Rocket Man. The beloved hero of their metropolitan city stood like an obelisk, gripping the door frame as he pierced into everyone’s very mind and soul. A fire burned from within him, baring teeth from a clenched jaw. No one dared utter a word, not even a cough.
Rocket Man grabbed an empty chair resting by the door and smashed it into the wall. Splinters and wood flew like shrapnel from a grenade. The closest patrons shielded their faces and coward from the explosion that echoed throughout. The rest of the crowd had stiffened, reflexively leaning away from the door and it’s hostile force. Still only silence remained, the patrons had fallen into a wordless obedience. They knew who top dog was and while they all could maybe jump him together, no one wanted to test an enraged Rocket Man and be one of the many casualties that would most definitely be created.
“I let you bastards exist out of kindness and decency!” Rocket Man bellowed to the room in a manor unbefitting. Everyone present has heard him get angry and upset before… but not this.
“R-rocky, we don’t know wh-“
Before finishing another word, Rabid Bitch was lifted into the air by her throat. She started to cough and wheeze, desperately trying to claw at the arm of Rocket before he drove her into the table she sat at just seconds before. The table cracked under the force and caused one of its legs to snap. It fell to the side and so too did Rabid, rolling onto the floor. She gasped for air as a few close by flew toward her and helped get her to her feet.
“Not. One. **WORD.** From any of you unless it’s a confession or information. **WHO?! FUCKING WHO?!**”
The villains remained in a silence, but their eyes darted between one another. *What happened? Had anyone heard anything? Someone must have bragged about something, right?* All these thoughts and many like them swam through the minds of all present. Whatever it was, it was big and bad. Someone did something to warrant this much rage from the hero, but what? And equally important, who?
A shuffle from the back. Another. And another. Small steps as someone tried to slowly and quietly fade further and further into the background. A couple from the back started to notice. And then more. And more. Heads started to turn and look at a lone individual. Rocket noticed this. As his gaze met the sneak in the back, he bolted for the back door. The jets on Rocket Man’s jet pack ignited into a high pitched roar, sending him sailing into the air above the crowd and directly into the runner. His arms outstretched as he reached his target, grabbing them and bulldozing them through the back door and into the air. Higher he flew as he stared the very intent of death into his captive. A relatively new villain to the scene, Boulder. He should have absolutely learned the rules of engagement by now.
As they rise higher into the night sky, Boulder sniveled and cried as he clung to Rocket Man for dear life. The horror and fear flushed every other thought out of his mind. He croaked out something as their ascent came to a halt, several hundred meters in the air.
“P-p-please! I-I-I-I did-dn’t kn-n-n-now!”
His helmet hid every expression, but Boulder felt the malicious force emanating out from within that very helm. He cried out, begging and pleading for Rocket to understand, show compassion and mercy. He’ll take himself in! He’ll resign immediately! He’ll abandon everything and leave! Anything!
All fell on deaf ears.
“The rules exist for a reason, Boulder. Not to keep things fair, not to have honor or respect. They exist because I *own* you. You are *my* playthings. And when someone strays from that path..”
Rocket Man released his grip.
“They’re not worth playing with.”
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[WP] The hero, normally jovial and humorous in their interactions, steps into a watering hole for villains, shaking with rage, tears running down their face, and with as much patience and calm as they can muster, simply asks "Who did it?"
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"Who did it?"
The Low Bar went silent.
The hero known as the Pillar of The Community, aka Pillar, pleaded with his eyes.
"Please, tell me. Who did it. WHO DID IT! WHO KILLED MY MOM!"
Glass shattered from his enhanced lung power backing his broken rage as the villains in the room all started to back into the corners.
Only two villains remained at the bar, the two longest serving villains in town.
The old man known to most as Crime Spree, but to me as Davey, turned to me, The Mechanitor.
"Gabe, oh crap." He started to comfort me, but I fell off my chair first.
The Pillar walked up to me and roughly pulled me up to my feet.
"THEY KILLED MOM! Dad, Uncle Davey, they tortured her to get to us. It's the worst I've ever seen..."
Tears flowed from all three of us as the two greatest villains in history, and the world's greatest Hero turned on the other gathered ne'er-do-wells.
Liberty City burned for three weeks in the carnage that followed. Death-bots marched the streets, eradicating any villain who had been part of the the plot. For the first time saw The Mechanitor without restraint.
***
"Now I stand here before the International Court to plead my case. I am guilty of The Month of Rage. Oh I am so guilty. You all know that you couldn't even have me here if I wasn't willingly participating in this trial. I have three demands for you if you wish to keep me here:
First, you will hold me, Gabriel Powers, as a scapegoat. Use me to give closure and comfort.
Second, you will let David Sheppard, AKA Crime Spree, retire peacefully.
Third, you will not punish my son David Powers, aka The Pillar of the Community, for my actions that night. You will leave the image of him arresting me as what the public knows. I lost my wife that night. A prison will not stop me from my vengeance if I lose my son too."
The most powerful group of heroes on the planet trembled and agreed.
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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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jvh9nor
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[WP] You got abducted by cultists as you were heading to a restaurant for your date. After two days, the cultists have started a ritual, attempting to offer your soul up to a demon for power. But as the demon appears, it turns out the demon they try to offer you up to is your girlfriend/ex.
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The evening was supposed to be magical. Dressed in my best, I was on my way to 'La Lune Bleue' to meet Lila. In my back pocket was an engagement ring, and my heart thudded in anticipation. However, before I could get to the restaurant, darkness enveloped me.
Waking up, I was surrounded by cultists. Chants echoed as a ritual commenced. An inferno burst forth, revealing a fiery demon that took a humanoid form I recognized all too well, Lila.
"James," she whispered, a hint of anger and surprise evident in her voice.
"Lila," I choked out, "What's happening?"
The head cultist, Derek, beamed with pride. "The ritual binds his soul to you, Great Demon. He will be yours forever."
Lila's fury intensified, her form growing even more menacing. "You dare bind him to me without his consent?"
Derek gulped. "It was for power... and knowledge."
Lila approached me, her face inches from mine. "James, do you understand what this means? You're bound to me now. Forever."
I gave her a small smile, despite the circumstances. "Actually, Lila, I was already planning on that." I nodded towards my back pocket. "Check."
She looked puzzled but reached into my pocket, pulling out the engagement ring. Her fiery demeanor softened, tears glistening in her eyes. "James..."
"The only ritual I was planning tonight was asking you to be with me forever," I said with a grin.
She chuckled, but her attention quickly turned back to the cultists. "You wanted power and knowledge? Very well."
Lila chanted a few words, and suddenly, books appeared in front of each cultist. They tried to move, but their hands were compelled to pick up the books.
"Every time you finish reading one of these books, another will appear," Lila declared. "Endless knowledge, as you wished. And you won't be able to do anything else until you've read them all."
Derek's face went pale. "But that could take... forever!"
"Exactly," Lila said, smirking. "Let's get out of here. I could use a quiet evening."
Turning to me, she sighed, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I've been meaning to tell you about this side of me, James. It's not every day you find out your girlfriend is a demon."
I chuckled, slipping my arm around her as we headed for the exit. "Well, I guess that takes the church wedding off the table?"
She laughed, her voice resonating with warmth and love. "Oh, there are plenty of other places we could have a hellishly good time."
As we left the chamber, filled with the sound of frantic page-turning, we were both ready to embrace our unique love, full of surprises and unwavering commitment. No church, no problem. Our love was bound to be downright infernal. And as for the cultists? Let's just say they became the most knowledgeable people on Earth, one book at a time.
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**\[WP\] You got abducted by cultists as you were heading to a restaurant for your date. After two days, the cultists have started a ritual, attempting to offer your soul up to a demon for power. But as the demon appears, it turns out the demon they try to offer you up to is your girlfriend/ex.**
♦ ♦ ♦
**This was the start of how a demon queen became my girlfriend.**
On the night of my first date in few years, my normal life as I knew it took an unexpected turn. I had been cautiously reentering the world of dating, having experienced a bad ending with my high school sweetheart. It was rather difficult as I was absolutely clueless how modern dating worked. After enduring a seemingly endless cycle of being ghosted and feeling the absence of genuine interest from potential matches, I was beginning to lose hope in the world of online dating.
Every attempt at genuine connection felt like a random shot in the dark, with conversations constantly fizzling out and any spark of enthusiasm quickly extinguished after a few questions.
*Damn. This is much harder than I thought.*
*Just how hard is it to get a match now?*
After several rounds of endlessly swiping left and right, I finally stumbled upon a profile that piqued my curiosity. The words in her bio seemed to radiate a unique mystery that had been sorely lacking in my previous interactions.
*"Culinary lover at heart. An avid explorer of the world's arcane curiosities. Searching for my partner in crime who's willing to dive into both deep conversations and the unknown. Ready for an adventure?"*
Accompanying these words were three pictures.
The first one captured her in a fine dining setting, surrounded by an array of delectable cuisines sprawled across the table. This classic picture was a testament to her identity as a true foodie at heart. It revealed that she was someone who didn't just eat to live, but rather lived to eat.
In the second picture, she wore a striking black dress, standing amidst an art exhibition. The walls behind her were adorned with an array of black-and-white manga illustrations, showcasing a diverse array of cute and cool girl characters frozen in dynamic poses. The presence of these drawings made me wonder if she might even be a talented mangaka herself.
The last picture was rather enigmatic. Instead of a photo of herself, the beautiful maiden displayed a close-up of her beautiful hand adorned with an intricate and mysterious symbol on the back of the palm. Her nails were neatly painted in a mixture of crimson-red and black.
As I swiped right, there was a match, sparking excitement in my heart.
However, little did I know back then, the enigmatic symbol held a deeper meaning of her true identity as a demon queen from another world. And so began the unexpected tale of how I unwittingly stepped into a realm of the unknown like she described, where I was destined to become more than just a regular date but experience the definition of a partner in crime.
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[WP] You have been Isekai-ed! Isn't that great? Except when you look around you, you see those who summoned you are horrified. Apparently they are the "subhuman" resistance group of Elves, Dwarves, and Beastkins who tried to summon a hero from another world to defeat the evil tyrant human Emperor.
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The elf stared at the summoning circle. At the figure in strange clothing gathering his thoughts and studying his surroundings. "... By the goddesses. Does the spell always bring humans?" She glanced at her companions. "Does anyone have records of the previous castings?"
The dwarf glanced over at her, then at the others; a dark, disheveled lot, who had struggled to acquire the materials needed for this spell. "The first time, we wanted someone who could defeat the demon king. We got someone who defeated the demon king. This time, we wanted someone who could defeat the Emperor."
"...Is this like one of those 'twisting of wishes' things the Emperor told us about, when he was still on our side? Grants us our wish, but in a way we will regret after? Is... the Emperor our punishment for not killing the demon ourselves?"
The room went silent. The figure in his strange clothing; a white shirt with unknown markings, pants affixed by buttons and zipper; seemingly similar to the brown versions the Emperor had worn when he arrived long ago; seemed to have gathered himself, and was looking at them, curiously; he seemed especially curious about the woman with cat-like ears, studying her closely; the Emperor had told them, long ago, his world had no such creatures.
A beastkin woman stepped forward. "That's absurd. If we'd slain the Emperor, or just sent him back home after the demon king was slain, none of this would've happened!"
The group seemed to focus on her words for a moment. They looked at each other. A silent agreement was reached. This time.... they would be ready. The elf was the most human-looking one among the group; she took a deep breath.
"Hero! We have called out to the universe in our moment of need. Decades ago, our world was being invaded by a vile demon lord; he crushed humans, elves, dwarves, all peoples beneath him, enslaving us and marching across the land. We begged for someone who could stop him; and called out. And he arrived. He had just killed himself in your world, and now he awoke here, in ours, and while he managed to gather an army and kill the Demon Lord, he has since become a monster, imprisoning our people in death camps, working to conquer the world for himself."
She took a deep breath. "I know it is much to ask, and you may not trust us, not being of your own kind. But would you please help us kill Emperor Hitler? I promise we can provided proof of his evil."
The human was following along with her words with a mix of distrust and amusement. When she came to her final question, he froze. He stared at her for a moment, hands clenched. "....What.... could you say that again, for me?"
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I was whisked away, just before being hit by a truck.
A pillar of light washed over me, and when I finally could open my eyes, I knew it.
I...have been isekai-ed.
Looking around I saw floating orbs, and the architecture was clearly not...human.
And then...I saw those who summoned me.
They are looked at me...horrified.
"Hello.", I waved at them, but this simple action actually made the flinch.
They were elves, dwarves, and people with cat, wolf, dog, tiger features, so I guess they were the beastkin.
"He is a human.", one of them spat with such hatred, I felt myself shiver.
"We wanted to summon someone to end the tyranny of the Human Emperor...and we summoned a human.", another sighed.
I gained more information from these bits of conversation than I wanted.
It seems I should have been some Hero, which would have been good...if the enemy wouldn't be a human, who most likely behaved in an atrocious manner.
"Listen...", I wanted to say, but before I could say anything, 5 hooks were thrown at me, each impaling me, four in my limbs, and one in my stomach.
I was raised up a bit, with golden chains...it hurt so much, yet...I didn't cry out.
"Tsk...he already gained some passive skills.", a dwarf muttered, as he took out an axe.
"Hey...I...I am not an enemy! You summoned me!", I shouted.
Before I could say anything else, an arrow was let loose into my throat.
I...I didn't die.
"And healing factor...we really got a good skill-set Hero...yet look...he is...human.", an elf sighed.
"Don't try to bewitch us, we know how good the skills human summoned beings get.
You would probably become another Harem Duke, or Merchant King, and help the Emperor continue his tyranny.", a tiger-beastkin said.
I shook my head, trying to speak...but I still couldn't.
"The Emperor calls us subhuman, and treats all humans, be them lower-class, or upper-class as gems.
He united your entire race, and conquered everything.
There is no discrimination against any human, regardless of their previous status, looks, or powers...but the criminals are punished.", an elf started.
"If they commit crimes against other humans, but with us...other races...they can do whatever they want...", a dwarf sighed.
"After all...we are "subhuman" in his eyes.", a cat-beaskin said.
I wanted to shout I am not like that, I don't even know what's going on, but I do sympathize with their situation.
I was in so much pain...yet still not dying...
"We don't care if you are kind, or if you agree with our cause.
You are human...and he is your Emperor, sooner or later...you would turn to him.", an elf said, approaching me with a sword.
I struggled against the hooks, something flaring up in me, as I saw them gasp, but then...nothing.
I felt a cold sensation at my neck...and then nothing...
The elf killed me...just because I was...I was human...
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[WP] You're an astronaut sent on a solo deep space mission. To combat the loneliness, you've created an imaginary friend who you interact with every day. Upon finally returning, mission control stops you. An unidentified lifeform has been detected on your ship.
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*“Burn complete. Trajectory nominal. A further velocity reduction burn will commence in T minus 17 minutes. Orbital insertion burn expected at T minus 2 hours and 13 minutes. You may de-harness until T minus 15 minutes .”*
“Thanks,” I muttered, wondering aloud why I was thanking some non-sentient AI pilot software for doing it’s job.
“A bit ironic, isn’t it?” George was now floating above the jump seat that he’d been strapped into during the burn. He certainly took safety seriously for an imaginary person.
“What is?”
“Judging yourself for talking to an AI when you’ve been having long, philosophical discussions with me for months now. Didn’t you say you thought me up?”
“Exactly. I did. You're in my head, and I’m sentient. That makes you far more sentient than some generic pilot software.”
George thought for a moment. “Are you sure I’m imaginary? Do you actually remember thinking me up?”
“George you’re literally wearing what I imagined you wearing. You look like what I imagined you to look like. I named you. I remember thinking you up. I remember
*when* I thought you up. You’re entirely a figment of my imagination.”
“You definitely *think* that’s true, I’ll grant you that, but you’re doubting yourself, aren’t you? You can’t be sure any more. When was it again, exactly, that you thought me up?”
“It was as we approached the Alpha Centauri system, I wished I had someone to share the moment with and...”
The radio crackled to life. *"Mission control to Sirius 47. Ship control systems are reporting multiple lifeforms aboard. Please advise."*
It took me almost a minute to process what I’d just heard.
“What the hell are they on about? That’s not even possible.”
“COMPUTER!” George shouted, his voice sounding different. “Cancel all further manoeuvres.”
*”Orbital manoeuvres cancelled. Manual mode enabled.”*
“What the hell are you doing? If we don’t perform the burns we'll go flying straight past!
Computer, show trajectory path if orbital insertion burn is missed.”
I already knew the answer.
The holographic display flashed into life, cancelling the ship’s dim circadian lights that had been in evening mode. I winced at the brightness of the holographic sun as a white line traced an almost dead straight line passing thousands of miles ahead of Earth’s path and inside the orbits of Venus and Mercury. The good news was, I wouldn’t hit the sun. The bad news was that I would fly past it at such a velocity that I would spend thousands of years in an elliptical heliocentric orbit around the solar system.
There wouldn’t be enough fuel to recover from that. The window to reduce speed was now or never.
The ship would become my coffin, an invisible comet flying eternally between the Oort Cloud and the Sun, every few hundred years passing close to home, only to disappear off into the darkness.
My mind numb, I skipped the simulation forwards. The computer gave a 70% chance that, in around 20,000 years, a close encounter with Venus would eventually send my mummified remains into the Sun.
George started to chuckle to himself.
“Shut up, George. How the hell did you talk to my ship? Computer, advise how many lifeforms are aboard this ship.”
*”There are two lifeforms aboard the ship”*
George pushed himself across the cockpit and put a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, so much time has passed on Earth since you’ve been gone, this might be a better fate, for all you know. Maybe the carbon capture programs failed, maybe the sea warmed even more. It might be hell down there!”
He leaned in to stare closely at the display.
“Actually,” he muttered, “I take that back. No way the climate control systems can handle being that close to a yellow dwarf star. It’ll get pretty hot in here. That’s a horrible way to go.”
I ignored him. He was just a visual and auditory hallucination, a personification of my negative thoughts. There had to be an explanation for all of this.
“Computer, is the second life-form inside the ship? Conduct a full scan of ship exterior.”
*”Exterior check complete. All lifeforms are currently aboard.”*
Nothing made sense. Any hull breach would have been detected. The only way a second lifeform could have boarded this ship is on Earth before it left.
“Computer, when did the second lifeform board the ship?”
*”That data is not available.”*
“The computer was off, you really don’t remember, do you?”
My blood froze. George floated in front of me, a hint of a smile creeping across his face.
“What was your wife’s name? Back on Earth? Why did you leave, knowing you wouldn’t return for centuries?”
I was still in shock, still processing the situation. My brain could barely process what he was asking me, let alone remember.
“I...”
“She died,” George interrupted. “Do you remember her name? Her face? Do you remember your parents?”
“I... I’m in shock or something. I need to perform the velocity burn before it’s too...”
“What’s your NAME?” George snapped. “What does a sunrise look like? What does freshly cut grass smell like? What does love feel like?”
“George, I really need to...”
“WHAT. IS. YOUR. NAME.” George’s smile was gone. “You don’t even know what it’s supposed to be, do you? I’ll tell you. It’s George.
Your wife’s name was Bella. She died in a hurricane, along with your daughter. A sunrise looks like the burning hope of a new day. Freshly cut grass smells like childhood summers. Love feels like the universe suddenly makes sense.”
The holographic display was flashing now, warning that the next velocity burn was overdue.
“COMPUTER, COMMENCE EMERGENCY FUEL DUMP.” George’s eyes were burning with rage, now. They glistened, as if he was holding back tears.
*”Fuel dump underway”*
“What are you doing?” I screamed. “Computer, cancel fuel...”
“You don’t remember because it wasn’t you, it was me! I’m not imaginary. I’m an astronaut. MY name is George Ridley, and whatever the hell you are, you’re not making it down to Earth.”
I don’t remember much detail after that. It did get uncomfortably hot when we passed the Sun, and then very cold for a very long time. It gets hot every few hundred years on the return pass.
George wasn’t imaginary, after all. Imaginary people don’t die, or decompose. I ejected him on the closest pass we made to Earth. It’s the least I could have done.
I’m not sure what I am. Maybe a clone, or a shapeshifter, maybe I’M imaginary. I’ll never know. But he was right about me not being human. I’d have been long dead by now.
I’m not sure how long I have to wait to die, but the computer still thinks I’ve got a good chance of hitting the sun in around 19,500 years.
I do miss George, though.
|
"The scanners are lighting up like a Christmas tree," the radio crackled, "stay frosty Alix, it may be twitchy electronic. And if there is another life-form, chances are it isn't with you in the cockpit but sticking to the hull or stowed away in some crack."
As if the rough landing at sea after a deep space mission without human contact hadn't been enough.
Alix was aching for the warmth of human touch, a hug, a bright smile, a physical presence, away from buttons and cold steel. She withstood years of isolation with her favorite method, an imaginary and invisible friend she had built over the years with the manic precision of an author. The quirks, the mannerism, the dry humor. She named it Amdusias.
*Don't tell them. Please.*
She had her doubts when Amdusias showed more independence than an imaginary friend should. Mental stress was a risk of isolation, this could be a symptom, right? Right, but it was similar to a cancer patient differentiating the symptoms of a tumor and a cold.
"I see you," Alix once said out loud, alone in her cockpit.
Amdusias made itself discreet, an the extra effort to show how much of a product of Alix's imagination it was. This made Alix all the more suspicious.
"Enough fooling around, shall we?"
*Fine, fine.*
Thus, she got properly introduced to Amdusias. The parasite nesting at her core that would have taken hold of its host, but there had been... complications.
*I didn't know I liked stories. You taught me how to.*
Instead of feeding on Alix's consciousness, Amdusias ate at her fantasy. And her fantasy shaped Amdusias in turn. The parasitic link became symbiotic, Amdusias took shape and character, Alix found a friend and sanity in the depths of space.
Of course, now came the return to earth. There had been no such things as bio-scanners when Alix left.
"Maybe I should use the occasion to be rid of you?" whispered Alix.
*We named stars that no waking eye has seen, we witnessed red dwarfs die and crumble upon themselves. We followed the reflections of a galaxy until it vanished and were present for the wonders born to fill the void. You taught me names and philosophy, I showed you how to rediscover the air you breathe and the world before your eyes. And besides. You wouldn't forgive yourself for killing the imaginary friend you created.*
"This could make me go down in history."
*Go on, I dare you.*
No anger in Amdusias' thoughts, they both knew what the other wanted and would do. This was a way to psych themselves up after the decision to keep Amdusias hidden.
"Be silent."
Scanners, medical check-ups, psychological questioning, more tests.
"I don't get it," said the doctor, "the scanners keep marking you as... well, different, but that makes little sense. Everything else came green."
"I spent years in deep space doc. Is that enough for me to be considered different by that thing?"
"Could be. Or we can just scrap the machine and be done with it."
Weird, but hell, nothing else had come out of Alix's surveillance for the many days it lasted.
And so, after reports, handshakes and congratulations, Alix was released to the world and to a much needed anonymity after the onslaught of attention.
Officially, it was rest. Alix had picked a cabin on a beach in the Caribbeans, but despite her need for recovery, she was already on yet another grand task. Discover what the world is when two beings watch through the same pair of eyes.
*There's more than eyes. There is flesh, there is sensation.*
Alone in her cabin, or as alone as a parasite could allow, Alix picked a kitchen knife.
*You showed me lots, Alix, I am grateful. I'd like you to understand my nature. Parasites you understand, I latch to a host and eat at them from inside. But you're not merely food and a way for me to move through space. I've eaten and inhabited beings that could scarcely be considered as made of flesh, or tangible. Still I latched, and ate. There is this thing you call art, creation for the sake of creation, beauty removed from self-preservation.*
Alix planted just the tip in her forearm, slowly, she carved up to the elbow.
*I have only ever seen sustenance and survival. I can scarcely tell you what counts as a good painting or music. But I know to play with my food. And you happen to be made of food.*
The pain was deafening, greater than what the thin red line should have provoked.
*Think of it as ripple effect. A sportsman will hurt himself a little by lifting weights, to grow more muscular down the line. A little pain for greater benefits. Physiotherapist will do it too, surgeons to a greater extent. This is simply the same logic brought to an extreme.*
Had Alix air left, she would scream. Alas, her lungs were empty. Skin and capillaries was spreading out like four thin wings, and what Alix saw in the mirror was both terrifying and beautiful.
She slept the entire day. Shaping flesh was exhausting art.
*And there's another problem.*
There was. It was the main argument in favor of ratting out Amdusias to the doctors. It was a parasite, hungry, and fatally, Alix's imagination would run out one day.
*It's my nature.*
A long life without her imaginary yet real friend, or a short life, never alone. She had chosen.
*Astronauts aren't known for fatalism now, are they?*
No. Alix had picked a third option.
Oh hell no. And Alix had an idea she played with for quite some time.
Away from her sanctuary on the beach there was a city. Like every good city, there was a less than shiny underbelly to it. And Alix, a lone woman, was a prime target when she walked the rough streets at night.
But they didn't know about Amdusias, oh no. A large shape blocked Alix's path one evening.
The shape, the man, disappeared from the face of the earth that same evening. As did the next fool who thought her an easy target.
It wouldn't be long until rumors spread like wildfire, about a syndicate cleaning town, about crazed murderers devouring their victims. About monsters and legends.
*Took a long time to find a fitting candidate.*
Indeed. Physically fit, a brain of acceptable proportions, no obvious sign of sickness or intellectual weakness, a surprisingly vivid imagination. But a new host would simply push the problem away without solving it, and Alix would lose easy access to Amdusias should the man prove unruly.
*Unless...*
Nights upon nights, they worked. Alix opened her flesh to offer the world, closed it again with lessons learned. She saw deeper through the body on the table, was connected through marrow and skin as each vein was properly placed, each fiber repurposed, the body remade as needed.
Bones breaking, molded, carved, muscles like wax, the spine like steel wires.
Alix passed out from exhaustion.
When she woke up, she heard only silence. No soothing presence, only hollowness like a screaming void.
The cabin was empty, Alix's presence made it emptier still. She ran out.
"The sea, the sand," said the man, "quite the experience to feel it alone."
"For a moment there, I thought I lost you," said Alix.
"Oh no, not me. What do we do now?"
"Anything we want Amdusias, anything we want."
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j8w2k1n
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j8vy61n
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[WP] you got a magic rock as a kid that was meant to teach you the "magic words" of please and thank you by reminding you whenever it's appropriate. Now though it's begun to recommend whole paragraphs whenever you're in a sticky situation. The best part is following it's advice always works out best
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The man in the hooded sweatshirt had a gun pointed at him, and all David had was a smooth round stone.
But this was no ordinary stone.
Since he'd first found the odd little rock as a young child, it had whispered advice to him.
*Say 'please.'* *Say 'thank you'.* And when he did as the stone suggested, things went well for him. That much wasn't surprising; such phrases are called "magic words", for a reason. Besides, what's more charming than a precocious, well-mannered child?
As he got older, its instructions became more advanced. *Say the truth.* *Say kind words.* *Say your prayers.* David continued to follow its advice, and things continued to work out for the best when he did. Now, as a young man, the stone spoke to him less often.
But when it did, it was important.
"Seeing this would break your grandmother's heart." David said to the man with a gun. A dozen different emotions twisted the man's face in the space of a few heartbeats.
"You...you don't know shit about me or my damn grandmama, asshole! Wallet! Phone! NOW!" he snarled. His words were implacable, but the hand that held the gun became less steady. Was that good, or bad?
David took a deep breath, steeling himself. He was scared. Very scared. But the stone had never been wrong.
And so, once again, he followed its advice.
Softly, David began to sing.
*"Nobody knows the trouble I've seen,*
*Nobody knows my sorrows,*
*Nobody knows the trouble I've seen,*
*Glory, Hallelujah...."*
Tears welled up in the man's eyes, and the rage and hatred on his face melted away in a wave of white-hot anguish. The gun dropped to the ground from his suddenly shaking hand, and a moment later he joined it on the pavement as he fell to his knees, sobbing bitterly.
Was that a song his grandmother had sung to him as a child, David wondered? Did it hold some other special meaning? The stone did not answer. It never told him the why, only the 'what', and only when it chose to.
He knelt by the weeping would-be robber, and told him what the stone said he needed to know. He could only guess at what most of it meant, but by the time he was done, the man who'd seemed willing to kill him for his phone and wallet was equally willing to quietly follow him to his car, and ride with him to an address the stone provided.
David dropped the man off outside a house. A woman came out to meet him -- not his grandmother, surely, she was far too young for that. A sister maybe, or perhaps even an adult daughter? Whoever she was, she gasped when she saw him, and threw her arms around his neck. He began to weep again, and so did she. He didn't need the stone to tell him that was his cue.
He got back in his car, and drove away.
His assailant's gun lay abandoned on the seat of his car, and there it stayed, for that was where the stone said it needed to be. David didn't know why, but he supposed it had a part to play in whatever came next.
The stone offered no opinion on David's next destination, so he chose one on a whim. As he rolled down the on-ramp onto the freeway, however, the stone offered him something else: something it had never given him before.
David smiled.
"Well," he said aloud, in response to the stone's message. "I'm David. Nice to meet you, *Urim."*
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... I remember when this stone just radiated in my pocket, when I forgot to be thankful for the blessings I've received, all the way through my childhood.
Now I can't remember the last time I've had a conversation at a bar, without the suspecious feeling that every word I utter, is not my own.
I might be paranoid, but this stone is my drug of choice, if I leave it at home, I long for it, it never leaves my mind.
The heat it gives off is intoxicating, like a person giving you the most warm, affectionate hug.
Last night, I almost got in a fight, because I was trying to comfort an old man, who had trouble refusing the bottles that me and my friends bought for everyone at the bar, we were being inconsiderate..
-We just went out to have a night of fun in the capital city, although on a weekday..
Everyone at the bar was tired after long days at work, slaving away to make ends meet. And then we came in, happy as always. We started by having a beer, cheered and then scattered to strike up conversations with strangers, they all became lively after half an hour. My friends possess this skill naturally, compassion..
Without my stone, I am nothing..
After many hours of laughing and drinking with the locals, sharing music on the jukebox, reminiscing our past jiys, the bartender shouted: "Last call, guys!".
We bought one for round for everyone, and that was the drop that made the cup flow over, for that poor old man.
He started crying, "I miss my youth, Im just old and useless. I can't even take care of my family. I simply don't have the energy anymore."
My stone reacted instantly. I felt the rush, the rush of knowing I was about to get my fix. My stoe would do all the work of helping that old man let out his innermost, I just had to retrieve back into my mind and let it happen.
As I felt my own concience fall deep into the void of my mind, I accepted that I'm addicted to hiding away from reality, while the stones personality takes control of my body, uses me to comfort the sad souls I pass on my journey that is life.
While I'm here, everything is crystal clear, my sometimes cloudy mind becomes clear as the starry night sky. All the dots connect in an instant, that is the most precious feeling I've ever experienced.
The stone is not good at moving my body, yet. I think it's learning. Learning to be more independent, of me, I feel it wants to take control of my body completely, leaving me in this void of pleasure, which is the feeling of a mind unleaahed, pure pleasure.
I feel the stone pulling me out of the void, communicating that it need me alert. I accept that there's probably gonna be an altercation. The stone is too slow in my body to fend for itself.
I don't know how long I was in that void, time feels non-linear. Suddenly I wake, in control of my body again, seeing a closed fist approaching my face, time feels slow now that I just came back from the darkness.. It's like I have superpowers for the first hour after returning.
I move out the way like I'm fucking Spider-Man or some other hero from my childhood comics. I gently shove the guy away to create some distance, to try and talk him out of assaulting me further.
It worked, and the bodyguard at the door was apparently aware of what was happening, he had watched the whole seance between the stone and the old man I suspect.
He grabbed the angry drunk and threw him out the door.
-I got my fix, it was a good night.
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j4l9v9x
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j4l15lu
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[WP] In the not so distant future, Humanity develops the AI gravestone, with a AI replicating the deceased's identity to help in the healing process. As you stay by a grave, the nearby AI gravestone trys to pick up a conversation with you
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“You worthless piece of trash. You think you’re better than me ‘cuz you’re alive, huh?”
Whoever thought standardizing these AI gravestones never had Lucinda Graves for a mother.
I don’t even know why I came here. Her funeral was a week ago and I didn’t even shed a tear. Maybe I just wanted to mourn the loss of what could have been? I don’t know, but I’m already regretting my decision to pay good ‘ol mom a visit.
Before I go, I kick some of the fresh dirt covering her casket at her gravestone and turn to leave. But I pause when I hear a snort come from a gravestone a few plots away.
“She deserves a lot more than that for whatever hell I’m sure she put you through growing up,” a woman’s robust voice says.
Lucinda is still going on and on behind me, but I tune her out and head over to the voice’s gravestone.
“Yeah, that’s putting it mildly.” I chuckle under my breath as I read her headstone. “I’m Jess Graves. Your name is Patsy?”
“The one and only, but I don’t think we’re here to talk about the intricacies of my life,” she scolds me, but unlike Lucinda it’s in an endearing way. “You’re here at that horrible woman’s grave because you need something. Closure? A good verbal lashing?”
“I’m not sure why I came if I’m being honest with you,” I answer, rubbing the toe of my boot into the dirt. “I mean, she’s not even my real mother. I was adopted.”
“Do you know who your biological mother was, darling?”
“No, she never would tell me. I think it’s part of the reason I came back. To see if she would.” I let put a measured breath. “But I guess I should have known better when it comes to Lucinda.”
There’s a pause, and I almost turn to go, then Patsy whispers, “I am so sorry.” Her voice sounds like it’s holding back tears.
“Nothing to be sorry about. We were all dealt cards, and good or bad it’s ultimately up to us to make something of ourselves,” I answer with a shrug. “Still , I wish I’d known why my biological mother never reached out. Why I wasn’t good enough for her and dished off to Lucinda.” Angrily, I swipe at the lone tear making its way down my cheek.
“It was cancer,” Patsy says softly. “Your biological mother died of brain cancer when you were 15. She tried to reach out, but as I’m sure you’re well aware Lucinda Graves was not an easy woman to negotiate with and the courts were on her side since it was a closed adoption.”
I’m staring at her gravestone in stunned silence. Wondering if it’s a programming trick to help me cope or if this woman did know the truth.
“How would you know that?,” I whisper, silence seeming to fall over the graveyard. It’s almost like even the trees are holding their breath in anticipation of her response.
“I gave you up at 16 and it was my biggest regret,” Patsy begins quietly. “But at the time, I had no way to care for you and my family convinced me it was my only option. I was your mother Jess and I did follow your life from a distance, but I wish I could have been there for it all.”
Tears are streaming down my cheeks as I stare at the gravestone of the mother I never knew but already wish I had. It was the closure I needed but not in the way I wanted. I talked to her for awhile before finally heading home, already missing the life I could have had with Patsy.
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The grass was a little damp. And it felt a bit itchy. Probably shouldn’t be wearing shorts today, but it’s hot. It also feels a bit weird just standing around and staring, so I guess it’s best to keep sitting. But yeah, I shouldn’t really be complaining either - it’s not like I am the one who died. Although it’s really the ones who live on who suffer. I’m being selfish - I really hope you aren’t suffering. Shit…
I wiped my face as I looked around in a daze. I think there were things around me, but it didn’t feel real. Something important feels like it’s been stripped from me. It really hurts but I feel so hollow. How wonderful, here I am thinking about myself again… whats wrong with me? Its like a pathetic loop. I miss you so much… did you know? I love you.
Whew. I took some air as I somehow forgot to breathe. The surroundings came back into focus. Oh yeah - they were gravestones. I’m such an idiot, of course there are gravestones here.
[ In loving memory of Betty Jones. Loving wife of Harry and Beloved Mother of Colin, Jessica and Eliza. Forever in our hearts. Rest in Peace. ]
Hmm. Lovely engraving. Fresh flowers. Well tended. How long will it stay like that I wonder. Urgh, I’m too cynical.
[ DEAR DEPARTED BROTHER JOE. Hit by a falling coconut. Sorry. ]
“Hah!” Whoops. I quickly covered my mouth, but that was stupid, since it was too late.
“Oy! What do ya think you’re laughin about mate? You think it’s funny? How would you like to be walking along a beach, margarita in hand, enjoying life, and then before you know it, you’re dead!”
“Huh?” I look back at the gravestone and there was a holoclone floating in the air, slightly distorted, but I could clearly see a guy wearing baggy board shorts, a lame pineapple printed shirt and aviator sunglasses. Hands on hips and chin jutted, he was looking down at me in a way that… yeah, it’s annoying. Not gonna lie.
“Erm… well, I would say i’m sorry, but I don’t feel like it any more. Would you mind giving me some privacy?” They didn’t really think things through, is there really a benefit to these things? I don’t want to argue with random dead people.
“You think you can just get away with that? Are you looking down on me? Just cos I got done in by a coconut doesn’t mean you can act all high and mighty. You know… I reckon that’s discrimination! If you keep that up i’ll call my lawyer!”
Ah jeez. Now he’s pointing at me.
“Joe! Knock it off will you? I’m trying to get some beauty sleep and I’ve told you that it’s rude to yell at people when they are mourning. Can’t you find something better to do with your time?” I heard a mature woman’s voice before she popped into the air.
“Back off Betty! Jus’ because you have a oh so wonderful family who loves you doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do! I’m not a second class citizen you know! I have rights!”
“Well I wouldn’t know about that Joe! Why don’t you tell that delinquent brother of yours to stop coming here drunk! All he does is mess up the grass and make a ruckus. The other time he was shouting and making a scene at midnight! Some people like some peace and quiet. And don’t you get me started - if he steps on my beautiful flowers that my precious children gave to me one more time… I don’t know what I’ll do! But I’m telling you that it won’t end with me scolding you! Do you hear me, Joe?”
Ah yeah. This is really ruining the mood. “I’m leaving!” Is this me being selfish again? Sorry…
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jf42d6i
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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.
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Appearance is everything. That's the lesson my mother imparted upon me at the ripe old age of nine. It's also the same reason that, twelve years later, she married me off to one Dr. Robert Lestrade after she discovered I was bisexual and fell into a panicked state over the idea I'd end up marrying a woman. Needless to say, I don't talk much to my mother anymore.
Robert was a lot of things: a selfish partner, an emotionally unavailable rock of a man, a fool obsessed with status and moving up the social ladder. But those were all secondary to what he was first and foremost: a scientist. Robert routinely pushed the boundaries of modern technology to further humanity's ascension to the final frontier--with the expectation he'd be leading the charge, of course. He'd leave me and our twin girls, Tanya and Trina, alone for long swathes of time; some days, all he ever said to me was, "Not now Janet, I'm busy."
Then one day something changed. Robert came home after spending the night in his lab and offered to take us out for ice cream. I agreed with resignation; Robert would bring us out on excursions every so often to put up an appearance of being a good father that the tabloids would snap up. But there wasn't a single reporter to be found at the ice cream parlor, and the whole time Robert talked to me, actually *talked* to me, about my day and the work he'd been doing.
I clued in immediately that this wasn't the real Robert. Every little thing that the imposter did made it more and more obvious. The way they would stare out the window at the garden with delight when the real Robert was disgusted by even the butterflies. The obvious joy in their eyes when Tanya and Trina dragged him into their games of pretend when the real Robert only ever cared about the girls when report cards started getting handed out. The way they cared for me and made me feel good all over when the real Robert hadn't been intimate with me since the girls were born.
I was happy with the way things were, but my curiosity wouldn't let go. So one night, after the imposter had put the girls to bed, I confronted them and asked for the truth. After a few attempts at coming up with excuses, the imposter came clean, starting with shedding their disguise. Quite literally--they shed the form of Robert, revealing a strange, violet-blue humanoid body with a pair of red, slit-shaped eyes with no irises and three-fingered hands.
The imposter explained that they had crashed on Earth several years ago while on a journey of self-discovery, and were recently found by Robert, who quickly grew obsessed with the idea of being the first person to gain indisputable proof of extraterrestrial life. Robert locked the imposter away and experimented on them to find out what made them tick. But before long, the imposter couldn't handle Robert's experiments (or perhaps Robert in general) anymore, and they escaped early one morning. Robert, genius that he was, gave chase while it was still dark out, and ended up running off a cliff and clipping his head against a rock. With no other options, the imposter buried Robert's body where nobody would find it and took on his form.
After their explanation was finished, the imposter started to leave, but I stopped them. I explained how the past few months with them were more fulfilling than any length of time I'd spent with Robert, and they were more than welcome to stay. They accepted, but admitted to not liking the idea of having to be someone else for the rest of their life. Luckily, I had a solution.
Four years later, Dr. Eloise Lestrade was making headlines for her breakthrough in terraforming technology and getting science closer than ever before to faster-than-light travel, Tanya and Trina were excelling academically under the tutelage of their new mother, and Eloise and I were eagerly awaiting the birth of our son. And at that point, I finally saw a small pearl of wisdom in my mother's belief. Because if appearance is everything, then this life of mine that's every bit as loving and blissful as it appears on the surface is a true gift.
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(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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mhijti5
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mhijjfn
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[WP] "I am the last librarian on Earth. The world has forgotten how to read, but I guard the knowledge of humanity in a hidden vault. Today, someone knocked on the door—and they brought a book."
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The door shuddered under a weight that should never have been applied so forcefully, nor so repetitively. A light tapping that, given the circumstances, may as well have been a ram booming against a castle keep. This library, my library, exists in a corner of a large city, the doors old, decrepit, and unopened in the past century.
Texts, electronic or physical, were a forgotten treasure in an age of memory. In a world that believed in the infallibility of the mind, a mind that passes down its knowledge generation to generation, pride overcame common sense and reason.
Humanity embraced the technology to store consciousness and thought to chips implanted in minds. What followed was a race to garner information and keep it from others. Conflict followed. From the ashes of the conflict, storage keys once jealously held became disseminated in an effort to prevent future tension.
What use is the ability when all the information you have ever wanted is at the tips of a thought. What use is the arduous and sedated task of moving eyes and hands at a plodding pace when compared to that of a computer. And so, my habit and passion slowly died, forgotten to all but the few caretakers of the city who leave rations in my mail slot.
The life of a Reader is a sedated but deliberate one. One that I have held and continued for as long as I have drawn breath. There were more Readers once; people who held onto the old ways and refused to allow technology to control all thought. But all the others have left, leaving myself to wander the rows of books, runes, and scrolls.
I have never asked nor desired for more. I hold to this sacred duty I have placed upon myself to guard this trove for future generations. I alone stand to protect these objects of another age against the test of time and thoughtlessness.
And so the doors shudder, suggesting there may yet be another who seeks to shoulder my burden, our burden. The doors squeal on rusted hinges, shattering the silence of my sanctum.
A tall, thin man stood on my doorstep, wearing a fitted blue vest and a tag that read “Ishan”.
|
I am the last Librarian on Earth, hidden away in a vault, with a hoard of books, scrolls, and Humanity's knowledge, after a devastating change in society.
The world has forgotten how to read at this point, having gone through things that are better left unsaid.
Now I guard this knowledge, waiting for my eventual demise.
Today, as I was cleaning these dusty shelves, someone knocked on the door.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Opening it slowly, I come face to face with a little girl, probably not more than 10 years old, with a little basket, and in it, a book.
"You real." the little girl says.
I smiled, and nodded.
"Yes, I am real." I said, taking the book.
"Grapa tell you. You the Ded Tree Lady!" she giggled.
I smiled, and read the book's title: "Little red riding hood.", and looked at the girl's attire.
"Am I allowing in little Red or the wolf?" I chuckled.
"No wuf, they are many, many steps away." she seriously said, looking around warily.
I smiled, and let her into the vault.
She looked around amazed.
"So many Ded Tree!" she said.
"Books. These are called books." I said.
"Buk. No ded tree? But grapa said Ded Tree's are ancestor's word." she said cutely.
I laughed.
"Not completely wrong, but we have an exact word for this, and it is book.
Let me give you something." I said, giving her a coloring letter book, and readied myself to teach her read, and write.
The situation was worse than I imagined.
A few hours later, she's still extremely energic, and happy, but considering she's not wanting to leave, it's clear.
Her family, settlement or whatever place she's from, got unlucky, and she was sent here by someone who heard about the legends about this place.
Watching her try to learn the letter, I smile, remembering that 85 years ago, I was in her place, it's just back then, I could already read, and write.
Now, it seems civilization is slowly regressing, the inability to read affecting our brains.
Alas, outside, there are better things to do, and to learn, than to read.
I take a step towards the little girl, before wobbling.
I sigh.
"I have to teach her...and fast.
Earth can't remain without a Librarian." I think to myself, as I steel my will, and approach the little girl, ready to teach her everything I know.
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l5usthg
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l5uq2qq
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[WP] Your a retired super villain but every once in a while the hero’s will check up on you to make sure, you’re not up to no good.
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"Lady Iron, what an unexpected surprise!" I exclaimed, spreading my arms wide in shock. It was all a lie, of course. I knew she'd be coming. That's why I had planned this. I knew they couldn't resist a chance to finally bring me down. After all, the heroes knew who I was years ago. They just couldn't prove it.
"Madam Mayor." The hero said slowly, taking in the crowd that hadn't been expected by her or her informants. "We had a report of suspicious activity..."
"Oh, I'm so sorry! That must have been my assistants. You see, little William here just loves spy movies and since he was told not to bother heroes with his wish, we helped him star in his very own movie with a mystery for him to solve and everything!" The wheelchair bound boy was in a tuxedo and had several prop gadgets I'd had made just for it. "Since you're here though, why not stay awhile? You can watch the movie with him!"
"I don't thi-"
"Nonsense." I say sharply, cutting her off. "I'm absolutely *certain* nothing bad will happen. Not while *you* are right *here."*
Lady Iron had to agree, and try to make it look convincing. How could she appear reluctant to stay with a sick child and watch the movie, when he had so dearly wanted to meet a real life superhero before? Had I gone through the proper procedure the heroes never would have sent someone. It would have been too low to stoop for them to actually appear like decent people for a change.
One way or another though, my city would have heroes worth leaving retirement over....
|
"Wow. 2 under par. You're killing it today." James said as I smugly headed for the golf caddy.
"Just another day." I quipped. We headed down the green to receive the ball and move on to the next hole. As we made our way down the path, a supersonic blast shook the earth as our cities residential hero, "Crimson Veil," shot by. Where was he going? To fight a monster the size of the Golden Gate Bridge? To thwart an ill-conceived bank robbery? To rescue a kitten stuck in a tree? Ahh, it hardly mattered now. James ignored it as well as we made our way. He retrieved our golf balls and headed off for the next tee. Hole 7, par 3, less than 110 yards. When we arrived, I took my time diligently to set up. The wind was now blowing by about 22 mph. That coastal wind sure did make this short drive unpredictable.
"You're going with a 7 iron?" James laughed. "You do about 130 yards with that. You're out of your mind." I smirked.
"I've been playing this game my whole life." I stiffened up, cocking my ankle up, and tightening my grip. As I raised my club, I counted down from 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... NOW! As I hit the ball against the wind, it seemed I had overshot as it headed out to sea. But, almost as if a world class super genuis had planned this out, Crimson Veil had just rocketed back from wherever it is he had gone as his sonic boom caught the ball, dropping it dead into the hole. "Holy crap- hole in one!"
"I told you James, I've been playing this game my whole life." He laughed as he watched Crimson Veil dissappear over the horizon.
"Yeah, yeah! I think it's cheating though. I might just report that to you PO."
"You do that." I tell him as he sets his tee. "Just make sure you put your mask and underwear on first. He'll pitch a fit if he hears we were golfing together again."
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lyol4cc
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lyn0gbz
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[WP] "You must be truly stupid beyond belief if you dared to enter our realm without being armed with iron." The Fae queen mocked you with an arrogant tone voice. In response, you threw your childhood toy at her and watch as every fae present recoils in horror at the material it's made from. Plastic
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The crowd moves as if it's liquid, scrambling over itself to give the toy a wide berth as it bounces harmlessly against the far wall and rolls to a stop. You see people—*could they be called people?*—tripping over one another in a rush of limbs. You hear the tear of fine silk and gossamer as someone's gown cannot make it out of the way in time. You hear whispered exchanges, panicked shouts.
Just as you'd hoped.
You walk over to the innocuous red ball and pick it up. In your periphery are hundreds of inhuman eyes trained on you, uncertain and fearful. Watching. Waiting.
Their queen finally decides to speak up. Despite what just happened, there's not a single hair out of place as she turns to face you, gaze pointed. The only indication of her fear is the slight quaver in her voice as she asks—
"What is *that*?"
Your sister's advice flashes through your head as it always does—*don't get overconfident, don't get caught up in it all, eyes focused solely on your target*—but you can't help but grin. You *knew* scouring the internet for tidbits of fey lore would help. You *knew* that your caffeine-fueled, innovative, mad idea would work.
When was the last time something had gone so *right* for you?
Now you have her on the back foot; you can press the advantage. "It's plastic. Synthetic. Entirely manufactured by humans and our machinery. And I have a request for you."
Narrowed eyes and a mouth pressed into a calculating line. The queen has evidently never been in a losing position before. "What might that request be?"
"You stole my sister from me," you reply. "I'd like her back."
She looks from you to the panicked courtiers and back again. "Her name?"
You can almost respect her audacity. "You don't need it," you say, and your tone makes it clear that there will be no convincing you otherwise.
The queen, for all that's happened, is doing a very good job of looking almost bored. "And what if I refuse?"
You rifle through your things and pull out the slingshot your sister taught you how to use. You also lift, for your audience to see, an entire bag of brightly-colored bouncy balls. All the court seems to shrink away from it.
"All of you will be subject to my aim. Which I'm told," you say, looking directly into the queen's eyes, "is *very good*."
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Crying and panting like a motor, Wilbur flew forth, 700c by 33c treaded footprint slid-slung a heartbeat-cadence at 200 beats per minute.
The studs on those tires clambered only in echo, what was once a path became a tangle of mud and ice. Wilbur felt the willow-wave shiver of another adrenaline spike, the muscles shaking bones in timbre to the frantic pace Wilbur cycled at.
Wilbur felt a wave pick him up, the mixture of memory hiding behind the immediate and terrific now.
Wilbur stepped on some eggs, bright green shell with strange blue yok staining his shoes.
He looked down for a second, and saw how the blue yok whipped out circularly outward from his shoe.
A sound like a cawing of crows, but maybe a phone operator yelling your name through a broken line, snapped through Wilbur. His spine was a puppet-line, his mind felt like those shattered green eggs.
The line of traction lost its grasp.
Agency gone, both physical and otherwise, Wilbur was now submerged under ice.
"You must be truly stupid beyond belief if you dared to enter our realm without being armed with iron."
Wilbur watches in horror as her tiny fingers pick away at him, the tiny queen slowing minces his left forearm. The Fae court wait in drooling anticipation, flapping their small feathered wings as Wilbur shook violently in fear.
Where Wilbur was held captive, there were only now a pile of clothes, and picked-clean bones. In the pocket of his jeans was a yellow GameBoy. As the court began to break the bones for the marrow inside, this device was discovered.
The entire court hissed in a flurry of feathers, a untouchable ground formed around the device, covered only in tiny, bloody feathers.
The Fae Queen wailed, shrieking until nearly suffocating, and then began to hyperventilate. In an instant, a horrible future revealed itself in front of those avian eyes. It was already too late, the boy had been consumed. It is too late! There are too many eyes present!
The rest of the Fae court, being lesser in the ecological-mind-prognosis powers, could only watch until, they too, saw this now-realized future.
"The microplastics!"
"The INDUSTRY!"
"THE MARKET!!!"
There was a non-stop flurry of feathers. It never stopped after that point. The Fae Court became antiquated, turned monopoly-oligarchy. Feathers littered the infinite streets of asphalt, until small suits with little evil ties were tailored. Markets grew and collapsed, and the Fae Ocean was as full of microplastics as the blood of all Fae from that one meal.
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mili54r
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mil8k1h
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[WP] You are watching TV during a storm when you hear a knock. At your door is a woman wearing a dress made of leaves and carrying a bottle. She looks at you sheepishly "Hello, this may be a tad strange. I am the tree in your front yard and this storm looks to be getting worse. Can I come inside"
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With my ability to acknowledge and understand elements of nature as beings themselves, it was no wonder why I was having so many visitors today.
"So you are the tree in my backyard?"
"Yes."
I sighed. "Very well." I then left, leaving the door open for her to walk in herself, which she did, awkwardly.
The tree then smiled. "Thank you, human. I'm forever grateful to your—AHHH." With an ear-piercing scream, she pointed at another girl with long, silky black hair, sprawled over my sofa. "WHAT IS THAT DAMN CROW DOING HERE!?"
"Me?" The crow, now a girl, quickly got up, groggy. "I came to find shelter in this human's home just like you. It's not like my nest was going to survive a storm."
"HOW DARE YOU!" The tree then frantically ran her fingers through her greenish hair, revealing the straws of a nest. "YOU RUINED MY LEAVES WITH YOUR NEST AND NOW YOU ABANDON IT!?"
"Hey. No offense. But I couldn't just risk it." The crow retorted with a blank face.
"YOU BITCH!" The tree then pulled out two whole eggs from her hair. "YOU LEFT YOUR CHILDREN TO DIE."
"First of all, it's called survival of the fittest. Second, keeping them protected is your responsibility as a tree."
"YOU ARE THEIR MOTHER."
"And you are their home. I mean, what use is a home if it can't even keep out a storm?"
"Can you all shut the fuck up!" I interrupted with a grunt. "Seriously, already the TV network isn't working because of the storm, and now--"
Suddenly, the TV started working again. I looked outside the window, and boom, clear sunny skies. As if the brewing storm had just...vanished.
And then the bell rang.
"You gotta be kidding me." I mumbled, reaching for the doorknob as everyone in the room collectively gulped.
"Hello, human." The woman introduced herself, her clothes and hair messy to the point it felt like she had just wrestled a tornado. "I'am the storm that was approaching, all the way from the sea. I have come to temporarily rest in your home--"
"CLOSE THE DOOR. FUCKING CLOSE THE DOOR!" The crow and tree bellowed from behind. I tried to do as they said, but the storm's leg had already barged through and in.
A wide grin tore across storm's face.
I was fucked.
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Watching Doctor Who, with a cup of hot tea, while a storm is raging outside, is blissful.
As I was getting a bit sleepy, I heard a knock on my door.
Sighing, I opened the app. to my doorbell camera, and I kind of froze.
For in the camera reflected, was a tall, lean woman, wearing a dress made out of leaves, carrying a bottle.
"Yes?" I asked.
She looked straight into the camera, and smiled sheepishly.
"Hi...This may be a tad strange, but I am the tree in your front yard.
This storm looks to be getting worse, can I come inside?" she asked.
I was confused.
Wearing my blanket hoodie, I went to the window, and looked outside.
The tree...the tree was gone.
Frowning, I went to the front door, and opened it ever so slightly.
"Hey." I said.
"Hello, Samantha.
Sorry to bother you, but the storm is started to become worse, and it's hurting my roots." she said, pointing downwards.
Looking there, I saw her wiggling her toes.
"Come in?" I mutter after a while still uncertain.
"Thank you!" she chirped, and came inside.
She went straight to the living room, and got under a blanket.
"Brrr...it's so cold outside." she said.
I nodded, and poured a cup of tea for her.
Going towards her, I stopped.
"Can you...drink tea?" I asked.
"Sure! It's mostly water." she laughed, thanking me, and taking the cup.
I stared at her, utterly confused.
Her skin was brownish, and a bit rough, her eyes were green, her hair was brown and green, and she was so, so tall, and lean.
"Are you really...the tree?" I asked.
She put down the cup of tea, and nodded.
"I saw you through the window, and now I am mimicking your actions, if you think why this is so eerie, that's why.
I am sorry, but I don't want to die, and I felt it in my heart, if I remained out there...
My roots would be gone, my life cut short." she said, clutching the bottle to her chest.
"How?" I asked.
"I don't know.
I woke up sometime long ago? Well, your grandma lived here back then, and I saw you as a kid.
Since then, I knew I could do this, take on a human form." she smiled.
Then it hit me.
That's why she seemed so familiar, she looked like grandma in her old photos.
"What's in the bottle?" I asked.
"Oh, my tree form!" she chirped, but I just got more confused.
Well, she seemed nice, so I guess, as long as she doesn't kill me, this is okay.
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jg0gtqw
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jfzuyel
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[WP] Sisyphus has finally had enough. He lifts the boulder over his shoulders and hucks it effortlessly down the mountainside, before setting off in search of Zeus. After all, he’s been building muscle all these millennia, and it’s about time for a rematch.
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The boulder shattered into small cobbles and gravel. Not his Boulder of course, that one was cursed and there was nothing he could do to reduce its weight or size or purpose. The last boulder of the mountain. After an eternity of pushing his Boulder, he realized he couldn't change it but he could change the mountain, move a rock every time he reached the peak. Through yet another eternity of toil, he had removed the mountain itself. With no mountain to push his Boulder up there was nothing in his pact of punishment binding him to remain. He had outwitted the Gods yet again. Now he was off to seek an audience with them once more.
Though two eternities had tempered his anger, perhaps his feat could get him forgiveness and a place in Elysium or even elevated to a minor God in Olympus. After all, the Gods were not always the most pleasant themselves, so maybe he'd fit in. "Yes," he thought "that'd be nice". He could already tell the Furies recognized what he'd done. He ambled toward the House of Hade to receive an audience with the Gods.
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He listened for the sound. You know, the sound! He listened for the sound he had heard so many times before from so many tourists hucking shit off the mountain. The Whistle Sound.
"Phyooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo..........."
The sound elongated itself as it shrank.
"Might as well throw off a fuckin whistler", Sisyphus had mused. So many times. People had looked, thanked, chucked rocks, and as the rocks sailed into the hole they had "phyoooooooooooooooo"'ed. He had looked around the boulder and smirked.
"Yeah. Nice one. You're the first to make that joke!", as he chased downhill and cursed over his shoulder.
The punishment was bad enough without an audience. Maybe that was Zeus's real punishment: Not physical struggle with the stone but people who were used to their safety yelling at him to "PUSH HARDER!". They knew not a curse.
The rock shuddered.
Was that a rivulet in the track?
Sisyphus shrugged.
He pushed the rock with one arm as strongly as the Gods allowed.
It wobbled. It dug in briefly at its bottom and then, like a Drunk leaning too far, teetered over the edge and fell.
"Ahhhhhhhhh"...an over-inflated tire releasing its gaseous weight.
He blinked. He blinked again. He looked at his arms, flexed them, relaxed them, blinked again.
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mja0j08
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mj9hyvw
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[WP]You got kidnapped by a dragon because your uncle, the king, had no daughters. You were the closest thing the kingdom had to a princess.
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I farted hugely. "You know I'm not a princess, right?"
"There are no princesses. Your uncle is the king. You'll have to do." The dragon's voice sounded like like a cross between a snake's hiss and a bonfire. Quite impressive, really.
"Yes, but do what? I don't exactly have princessly training. Old Uncle George is a cool dude and all, throws a heck of a feast, but as his nephew I mostly just sat around and played BNB."
The dragon tilted his head. "Is that a musical instrument?"
"Uh, no," I said. "Buildings and Bosses, it's this game where you and your friends pretend to sit at a desk all day filling out paperwork. My character is an accountant, who uses-"
"I don't care." The dragon stretched. "You will now prepare my dinner."
"Sure." I stood up and looked around. "Where do you keep your instant ramen?"
The dragon's eyes narrowed. "Ramen?"
"Yeah, the trick is to drain the water before adding the seasoning packet, it makes it stronger. Sure it doesn't mix as well, but the surprise clumps are part of the fun."
"No." The dragon looked at me. "What can you do?"
Always with the hard questions. "Well, I'm pretty good at sitting around. Uh, princess wise, I can look longing into the distance with my hair blowing in the wind. Except it's my back hair. And everyone can tell I'm thinking about pizza. It was more impressive that time I let my best friend's little sister braid by back hair, lots of people told me they've never seen anything like it" I thought a bit longer. "I did once try to help my mom by cleaning up the guest room, but somehow everything ended up broken or on fire." More thought. "One of my tutors told me I was really good at nepotism. I don't know what that means, but he said it would probably get me further in life than most people."
"You will polish the gold in my hoard. Surely you can do that."
"Is that the thing the servants do that makes things shiny? That involves rubbing something with something? I tried it for fun once, but all I had with me was my pocket chicken nugget, and rubbing it on the tapestry did not make it shiny." I paused. "Speaking of-" I reached into my pocket and extracted my pocket chicken nugget. "Only a little bit of hair on it, which isn't bad, given that I've had this one for two weeks." I popped it in my mouth.
"Get out."
|
I was a bit confused.
Just got kidnapped by a dragon, and brought to their lair, locked in a room.
This room is furnished lavishly, with a huge Empress pink bed, fluffy pillows, and blankets, a huge hole as window that looks out to the forest to the east of the mountain we are in.
And the dresses...oh how amazing they look.
As I was checking the dresses out, someone came into the room.
It was a ridiculously tall man, with horns, wearing imperial robes, and an inhuman physique, which of course wasn't that big of a deal, considering he was the dragon that kidnapped me.
He smile at me.
"Getting used to the place?" he asked.
I rolled my eyes.
"The place? Yes.
The situation? No.
Seriously, I am just the niece of the king, barely a theoretical princess, why kidnap me?" I asked.
He shrugged.
"You still have the bloodline of the royal family, so that makes you valuable to them...and me." he got closer.
I tried to knee him where it hurts the most, but he casually stopped it.
I tsked, while he laughed.
"Feisty, I like you more and more, princess." he said.
"Not a princess.
I am literally a merchant, and raised as a merchant, and I know this: no matter what you ask from my parents, or my uncle, they won't give it for me.
I have 4 elder brothers, and my uncle has 5 sons, they have no problems on the heir topic." I said, crossing my arms.
He chuckled, took a step forward, but when I raised my fists, he stopped.
"Okay, okay, I won't approach, but let me put it this way: what if I kidnapped you, because I felt sorry for someone so talented, and beautiful to be thrown aside?" he asked.
I stared at him, at the room, and it hit me.
"You are the owner of the Golden Deer Association!
So this is the reason?
I managed to make a deal with you, that is more favorable for us than your association, and that got your attention?" I asked.
He smiled, and nodded.
"It's rare to see Ezekiel outsmarted, and outtalked, by someone so..." he started.
"Young? Beautiful? or...a woman?" I interrupted him.
He raised his hands in defeat.
"I see I won't have any breakthroughs with you today, so I am going to leave.
There is no escape from here...princess, and oh, yes, dinner is at 8, I will send a servant to bring you to the dining hall." he laughed, winking at me, as he left.
I threw a pillow after him, but it only hit the door.
"Handsome jerk..." I muttered, going back to checking the dresses, looking for some designs that could tell me exactly, where the hell he took me.
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jjhomtj
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jjhi1dd
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[WP] An angry magician cursed a city, turning all the residents into the first animal they thought of. Not powerful enough, it only lasted for a day, and the people surprisingly had fun. A year later they offered to pay the magician to do it again and to make him the leader of the celebration.
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Festival of Beasts
Vexason the Powerful wanted to put his head down and cry. The people of Cholerton were calling on him to perform the “Miracle of Beast Day.” Again! What had he started?
It had seemed like the perfect revenge; change all the citizens into animals, and laugh as they destroyed each other. Only, he wasn’t quite “the Powerful” enough. The townsfolk had kept their human intelligence, and it had only lasted one day. Town guards had run as a wolf pack. Wagon drivers had pranced around as horses and donkeys. One opera singer had spent the time as a nightingale, and now used that imagery in all her playbills.
When he’d seen the failure of the beast spell, Vex had collapsed in the City Center Park, too disappointed to leave or cast anything else. Before long, squirrels and bunnies had gathered to cavort around him! An honest-to-the-gods elephant had picked him up, put him on its back, and paraded him around! Not to mention the record numbers of puppies and kittens in the streets. It had been too joyous to allow him to stay angry.
Not to mention, when the people were restored to their human forms at midnight, they’d sent him a message: how can we repay you for this joyous time? How in the world was he supposed to gather power from anger, when they agreed to all his demands? His forests would be off-limits once again. His wall was repaired. The Grand Library had given him a key and his own private study room (they weren’t giving the books back, but he wasn’t about to argue with a coven of librarians).
The year since had seen him honored as a town treasure. He couldn’t go in for a simple trip to the market anymore; he was swamped by people wanting to tell him stories of their time as an animal. Not that it was an inconvenience; he usually was offered delivery service for the goods he needed, at no fee.
All of this meant that Vexason had no more anger toward the city. He wanted to give them another amazing day again. And that was the problem! The spell was one of vengeance. To recreate it, he was going to have to get angry at the city of Cholerton. How was he supposed to do that when he was so content, now? The spell would almost certainly fail without the emotional focus that anger gave him.
The entryway gong sounded. Vex heaved himself out of his chair and stomped down the stairs. He pulled open the door to reveal a slim, mustached and bespectacled man with a scroll.
“Mr Alastaire Blake von Vexason?”
Vex winced at his full name. “Yes, WHAT?”
“I’m here from the tax office. It appears you are two days late–”
Vex slammed the heavy tower door and laughed maniacally. He had his anger again.
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The characteristic alarm blared.
“Attention residents. The Change will begin at midnight, tonight. Those who do not wish to partake, make sure to paint your door frame’s red with lamb’s blood, which should be available at your local butcher. Your safety can only be guaranteed by the lamb’s blood on your door, so please paint well.”
The message repeated a myriad of times as I readied myself.
I had just finished painting my third coat of lamb’s blood (can never be too careful) when the church bells rang.
Abruptly, I shrank, gaining a poofy tail. My cheeks expanded, feeling odd that there was not a nut tucked into them.
My home’s front door stood open, inviting me to join in a safe respite. Perhaps I’d cuddle up with a nice book, perhaps I’d watch some Survivor.
Yet, I saw the Man, just inside my door. His veins and arteries seemed to leave his body to join the lamb’s blood that bordered my threshold.
His skin crinkled and cracked as he broke into a harsh, wry grin.
“Get!” He yelled at me. “Go on! Git!”
It was as though I was a computer program he had typed a few commands into. My arms and legs moved with a sickening rhythm, like a pupil just learning the piano. Each note felt ill timed, each chord a crash of three keys rather than a lovely ensemble of tunes.
It took all my minor motor control to not fall on my face as my legs took me farther and farther, deeper into the night, deeper away from the red man.
After a time I came to another home, again with its door flung open. A skunk walked mechanically away from the open abode.
“Git!“ I heard from the new house, yet I continued onward, certain I was not being spoken to.
As the stench of the skunk faded, the red of the door’s borders filled my vision.
“You again!” The red man looked at me. He brandished a shotgun, this time. “You have corn in your ears, boy? Git!”
The man brandished the gun, marring his face further my smiling sickly. The deep creases of his face tinged pink-red as he grinned, as though he were a rapidly weathering statue. The creases crunched tighter and harder until drips of blood squeezed through his pores, landing in thick droplets at his feet.
“You deaf or stupid, boy?” He demanded. He moved to chase me, yet stopped just before the door, remaining inside. “You best get on now, before my kin gets back.”
At the mention of kin, my blood went cold. My body, once again, turned around of its own accord. I began walking away, unable to even command my own neck muscles, or my own eyeball muscles.
The man kept my eyes trained on a red speck far in the distance.
As I continued, the red speck widened until it consumed my entire mind. He stood inside, beckoning nicely. He wore a skunk fur around his neck.
“So nice of you to finally join me.” He said as I crossed the threshold into his home. He flexed his bare, calloused fingers. “I’ve been in need of a new pair of gloves.”
He levied a flaying knife.
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j6w045o
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j6vzao5
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[WP] The isekai'd Hero has completed their task. The Demon Lord is dead/Dragons vanquished/ Unspeakable Evil banished or sealed forever. The rewards were bestowed, the feasts feasted, and the celebrations celebrated. And they still can't be sent home. So, whaddafuk are they supposed to do *NOW*????
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The goddess said I died before my time. Feels like I've lived too long.
I had a purpose. It was hard work, dangerous work. By wit and will, steel and sorcery I pushed through. I didn't have time to think then, now all I do is roam. Like exploreing an RPG map long after the game is over.
I was traveling, on a snowy road I had trodden long before. East I saw the serpent sea, and west the mountains without passage. Behind me was all of Magiheim and before me was a long road.
I visited a sunken temple. It had once been filled with powerful gorgons. Now there was just shatterd mirrors and broken stones. Why was I given these powers if not to fight? What Else was I for?
I sat upon the shatterd head of a stone beast. I sat and wonderd. I missed my family, I would never see them again, not even a picture. They were dead to me, somehow that hadn't occured to me in all the while I fought. Now It was all I could think of. To grieve my own lost life. I died, and yet here I am.
\-
The goddess was there, sitting back to back with me. "Sulk!" she sniped. It was a fair comment. "I'm not sulking" I lied "Why am I still here?" I demanded. But I didn't turn around to see her, I felt as if the moment I did I would be alone. That's just how this kind of thing works.
"Why? There is no why. You're just here. Your soul isn't ready to die." she repeated word I had heard before, when it all began. "There was no why on earth either. You spent all your time on RPG games and manga." she rebuffed.
"But I'm not that person anymore!" I cried.
She rolled her eyes, don't ask me how I know without looking, she just did. "You're exactly the same! You're entitled, you want the whole world to be an adventure deliverd to you on a silver plate. You want to be so close to death that one wrong slip could send you over. You want to be powerful. Well you had it! Everything your soul cried for." she said, with finality.
"No! It's not enough, it can't be over." I begged "I was happy." I croaked, patheticly.
"Happy? You have friends forged in the struggles of life and death, your soulmate awaits you in Carabar city, where you abandoned her to retrace your adventure. To relive old glories" she pointed out. From the fire in my chest, a coal of guilt fell into my gut.
"I'm... I can't just sit around in some palace. Watching parades, waiting to... to die?" I protested.
"No. Not to die. You're not ready. You don't desurve to die." she said, and I didn't understand.
"What it's a privilidge!? I'm not good enough to die?" I said.
her head shook, i felt it in her back pressed to mind "Not bad enough" she said. I still didn't understand. "Orin, you're going to hell." she said coldly. everything felt cold, frozen.
"What?" I turned, she was gone.
\-
I leaned against a merlon, they were the teeth pf the castle wall. There was no army on the horison now. It would be lifetimes before another war broke out. Far below in the woods my children played with fairies, watched over by the large wolf who had been my most stalwart party member. His own son had been taken form him by the world eater. He lived for my children.
I saw them, I love them. But I felt like nothing around me should exist. They were seven and five now. Why did it all seem unreal?
The goddess was there again, it had veen a long while. I resumed out conversation, it had never left my mind "What do you mean hell? Is this hell?" I asked.
"Of course not! This is Magiheim, not even you can whine about this being hell! It's practicly paradise now." she said, sitting stop the wall. Her feet dandled over the side.
"Why would I go to hell? I'm a good person!" I said, unsure if I was, is anyone?
"You surely are. That's the Problem Orin. You're supposed to be. You're supposed to be a monster." she stated. I shook my head, it was nonsense.
"I'm the hero, or at least I'm... I don't know. I help people!" how couldn't she see it?
"You're supposed to kill them" she said "enslave them, murder, rape, manipulate, eat. Pick your poison. You have the soul of an unapologetic mass murderer" she looked right at me. Her eyes were like judicial stars! Burning me.
"I don't... why?". I blusterd.
"You died before you had the chance to commit your crimes. Too young I suppose. So I gave you power and sent you to a wold where you would be unchallenged. One that was doomed anyway. You could do anything here, It was supposed to vanish into the Wyrm's may so what does it matter?" she shruged. "But you didn't, you saved it." she said.
"So I'm redeemed?" I asked?
"No! You don't get it. You're going to go bad, the worst. And we'll do this again. Throw yourself off the wall. I'll put you in another world, more power, less checks to you. Again and again across eternity. Till absolute power corrupts you." she said, it sounded almost sarcastic. The chill in my skin wold me it was true.
"Why?" I... didn't even whisper, I don't think I could make me lips move. I wasn't breathing.
"Just how it is. You're evil. You were made to be evil. Something went wrong, and now I have to fix it. Your sentence has passed, now we just wait till you do the crime-" the goddess vanished as the last word rang out.
\-
Worlds. Lifetimes. Heroisim.
I was worn down life a stone. After sixty-thousant years I stopped counting. It was pointless to know, there was no limit. She would never stop. I rolled downhill, gathering the moss of power, always enough to abuse.
Will it even end? Is hell worse than this? Can I bring myself to be the monster she wishes me to be?
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I fell to the ground, my knees hitting the ground first. My arms hung limply at my sides with my remaining hand limply grasping the hilt of my cracked and broken blade. I coughed, and I tasted blood. I felt it start to fill my lungs and finished my fall to the ground, my own body forcefully coughing and expelling the very blood that I needed to keep me alive. Panic began to fill my brain, but for some reason I did not feel like the panic was in my mind or my consciousness. Part of me felt calm, as if I was merely an observer mildly panicking over the fate of a stranger. Suddenly, a sense of exhaustion such that I had never felt in my life hit me all at once. I no longer had even the energy to cough or breathe. As I peacefully fell asleep, I saw the Demon Kings' Soul Flame flicker as he clutched at my blessed holy blade still embedded in his chest. He stumbled and fell, grasping at his chest with a look of wild panic in his eyes. The last thing I saw as my vision faded to black was seeing a bright fire erupt from underneath his enchanted bone armor, right where my blade was.
I had the strangest dream. I was swimming, and I hate swimming. I never learned how to swim in my old life, and although I learned how to during the Spider King trouble in Felth, I always just used teleportation magic after I acquired it in the Tombs of Atman. Anyways, I was swimming. Down, into the blackness. I remember that it was cold, and I did not need to breathe. There was a tugging feeling in my chest, as if I was being summoned or pulled down. I had to go. It was, I felt, where I belonged. But as I was swimming, I felt a small but comfortable warmth on my back. I turned around, upwards, and saw a warm light coming from above. I thought then that I would rather be warm, and I found a desire deep down in myself that I wanted to walk under the sun again. I turned around and started swimming back up. As I reached the surface, the water felt thicker, softer. Suddenly, I had the realization that I was dreaming and as soon as I realized that, I woke up.
I opened my eyes...and saw nothing. It was as black as a dwarven mine. I could not see anything, not even the shadow of my right hand. My first thought was that I was shivering, and right after that I thought that my bed was awfully cold and hard. I figured that whoever had saved me from the battlefield apparently did not know much about how to treat a guest.
Well, it sure would not be the first time I was left in the dark.
I snapped my fingers and a small yet cozy looking red flame began to dance upon my outstretched palm. I first noticed my apparel: I was dressed in only a white robe, which was somewhat loose at the shoulders and stretched all the way down to my ankles. My feet were bare, as was all my fingers. *Hmm...then that must mean I am in a dwarven hospital. But which one? I do not recognize this place.*
I recalled the meeting before the battle, when we had organized field hospitals and recovery centers. I had already approved the design plans the dwarves had sent me, and yet I was entirely unfamiliar with this place. As I searched about, I found a stone doorway which led into 2 other rooms.
*Huh. What is all this? I see plenty of gold, but...it looks seriously old. What is going on?*
I tried to pop open some barrels that I saw besides the gold piles, but they were so rotten that they collapsed when I tried to open them. Not wanting to dig through piles of old rotten wood, I went to the other room directly across. As I ducked underneath the low stone ceiling, I instantly noticed my armor, displayed in carved out shelfs along the back wall. But as I inspected my gear, my confusion only increased. The armor was covered in thick layers of dust, but more importantly, the battle damage on it was nowhere to be found.
Growing concerned, I stepped out of the room and into the small hallway that connected the 3 rooms together. As I inspected the stone walls more carefully, I noticed that at the far end was an almost indiscernible seam along the stone wall.
*Ahah! I know Vun's work when I see it. I'll drown him in a beer barrell for this. Now is not the time.*
After I allowed a brief feeling of relief to wash over, it was quickly replaced by a sense of urgency and frustration. I had fallen in battle; I was pretty sure that the Demon King was defeated but I was not positive. What about my friends? Did we win? Were the centaurs on the left wing successful in our plan?
*I have to get out of here. I know that this was some sort of a healing chamber but now is not the time.*
Panic began to fill my chest. I went back, dressed in my armor as quickly as I could and faced the sealed stone entranceway. Drawing my fist back, I drew a breath and blew open the wall.
Just outside of this now unsealed door was a set of stairs that led up, where I assumed would be the battlefield. I strained my ears, listening for the sounds of battle but heard nothing. Now in a panic for my friends, I sprinted up the stairs and found myself blocked by another sealed stone doorway! With a mixture of frustration with Vun combined with a growing panic for the fate of my friends, I blew open the stonework with far less patience and much more vigor than last time and burst out into the open.
*Wh...What.......Where am I? What is going on?*
I was standing in the middle of forest. I turned around totally bewildered and confused towards my medical chamber and saw a small metal plaque peeking out from underneath the roots of a large tree nearby. Peeling back the roots, I was barely able to read the worn out words, which said: "Here lies the mighty Hero, who sacrificed his life to defeat the Demon King and brought peace to the land and its people. May he rest in peaceful slumber forevermore."
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lh9qmtu
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lh9qh1i
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[WP] The reason humanity has never experienced any world ending events is that future humans keep travelling back in time to stop them. You know this because there’s one of them in front of you now, telling you that you must absolutely not go in to work today.
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“Indeed,” I said sarcastically, “anyway, I have a really busy day ahead and I’m already running late so I would greatly appreciate you letting me go about my day.” I maneuvered around the stranger to reach the driver’s door.
“No, seriously, you can’t go to work today.” He was persistent I’ll give him that.
I breathed in deeply. Of all the days, it had to be today. “Okay fine, you win. You an Activist? I’ll sign whatever you want. Please, just leave me alone.”
“I don’t want anything! I just need to make sure you don’t go to work today.”
“I tried being nice. I did, but I think you should go.” I placed my tumbler on the roof of my car and grabbed the .22 tucked under my belt. “I won’t ask again: Please remove yourself from my property.”
He sighed, put his open hands in the air, and smiled. I kept my eyes on him until he was at the end of the street and once out of view, I opened the door.
“No, you don’t,” came a voice over my right shoulder just as a handkerchief was pressed against my mouth and nose. “I really can’t let you go to work today.” The world became black and I came back to sat in the center of an empty warehouse. Judging by the fishy scent we were on the docks. I’d never been taken hostage before but the feeling of being cuffed to a chair was a strangely familiar one.
I looked around for the kidnapper, finding him on a catwalk speaking with a man dressed like he was in Star Trek. “Hey, asshole!” I yelled the two men looked down in my direction and Spock disappeared instantly, I was roofied, I’m seeing shit now. “What the F-“ The dickhead who kidnapped me disappeared too. I was dreaming, wasn’t I? “How’d you find out about me?” Somehow my cover was blown. The total number of people who knew my real name could be counted on my hand, everyone who worked on the particle accelerator used aliases, and everyone who ever asked me what I did for work received a long-winded answer about my passion for counting numbers, and yet this guy was able to piece it together.
The shackles clanked to the floor and I was standing up a firm hand shoved me back down into the seat. “Don’t move.”
‘Who are you?” I asked nervous for the first time.
“That’s of little consequence. Who you are, however, is of grave consequence. Three hours ago you called in sick to work and were unable to be there for the big day.” A screen materialized out of thin air in front of me showing me the control center for the particle accelerator that cost the annual GDP of several first-world countries. I watched as all of my coworkers ran checks on the various systems for the maiden test. “So many times in the history of our little rock...” The screen showed Earth, “events out of anyone’s control threatened life: The asteroid, supervolcanoes, ice ages, etc. These mass extinction events came around once every hundred million years. That is until we came into the picture.
“Whether it be famine, disease, nuclear war, you name it, we continually did our best to take the randomness out of death. That’s where we came in.”
“We?”
“The people I work with, the man I was speaking to. We don’t come from here,”
“The states?”
“No,” he chuckled “the time.” He paused and sighed beside himself. “So many times humans aimed for the impossible, and so many times we failed. Do you think it’s a coincidence that the Cuban Missile Crisis ended amiably, or that Yellowstone hasn’t blown us all to Kingdom Come? Isn’t it weird that every asteroid just narrowly misses? There’s no coincidence.” The screen now showed a live news feed of a massive explosion. If it hadn’t been for the mountains in the distance I wouldn’t have known where it was.”
“Is that...”
“Bingo.”
“We failed?”
“The experiment? Yeah, that was a failure. Humanity? That was a success.” I choked, unable to breathe, the last fifteen years of research were lost. “You see, if you had managed to be there the test would’ve gone according to plan. An overwhelming success. So successful in fact, that Earth and the next three planets would be sucked into a supermassive black hole. Luckily for all of us, you came down with the flu, and your less-than-well-prepared assistant was in charge of pressing the button. He was a little nervous and pressed it just a tad late, the engine short-circuited and inadvertently created the largest explosion in human history. five-hundred thousand gone like that.” He snapped loudly in my ear.
“A loss for science a win for life. We can’t avoid every tragedy, but we’ve always avoided the biggest ones.” The screen disappeared, leaving only the sunlight through the cracks in the rusted roof. “Make sure you hug your wife today, Darren.”
He had begun walking off. “You said I was of consequence?” The footsteps ceased momentarily, leaving us in silence.
“Of grave consequence...” I tried processing what that could even begin to mean. “We’ll speak again soon, Sir.”
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"Don't go to work today. The future..." A grave man said standing at my front door,
"Okay," I closed the door and headed back to bed. I barely made it a couple of steps before my doorbell rang again setting off a chorus of barks from my dogs waiting for me in my room.
"Yes?" I say opening the door once more. The cool pre-dawn air hitting my face and making me shiver.
"Don't you want to know why?" The man from before asked,
"Not really," I yawned wondering how long until I could curl back up in bed.
"You're just not going to go in? Just like that?"
"I don't need a reason for a day off," I shrugged pushing the door closed and turning back to my room. The doorbell rang again, setting the dogs off, again.
Sighing I opened the door again,
"What?" I asked the man still standing at my front door.
"Do you know who I am?"
"Dude, it's like 4am, I really don't care," I closed the door again, hoping he'd get the hint.
Moments later the doorbell rang again,
"WHAT?"
"I told you I need to talk to you,"
"And I said, I don't care! Look if I let you in will you stop ringing the doorbell and let me sleep until at least 7?"
"You're going to let a total stranger into your home?"
"You're the splitting image of my father, you must be relative. Now come in, make yourself at home and don't talk to me until at least 8,"
"You said 7 before,"
"And if you keep talking I'll change it to 9!" I turned away leaving the door open to allow the man into my home.
Four hours later I emerged from my room feeling much more refreshed and grateful this random relative demanded I take the day off work.
"You're up," the man greeted me in the kitchen with a cup of hot chocolate.
"You're still here," I grunted,
"Of course I am. I have until this evening until I have to return to my... Time,"
"Your time?"
"Yes, I am your descendent, I am from the year 2524." I burst out laughing at the man's claims when he pulled out a small card that he placed on the table. A high definition hologram projected from the card.
The hologram began showing an array of pictures. All desolate wastelands, all vaguely resembling areas where I grew up and currently lived.
"What happened?" I asked the man who seemed devastated by the images.
"You went to work today,"
"Oh come on, me going to work could not cause all this devastation,"
"If you went to work today," my descendant said,
"Oh come on! Me going to work could not cause this!"
"You have a meeting scheduled with a new client at 2:15pm,"
"I saw something about that on my schedule," truthfully I had no idea what my schedule looked like. My seceretary emailed it to me each day with a blurb on each client. I'd be lost without her,
"No you didn't," the man stated as he fiddled with the hologram card. Another video played this time of me and a man I've never met.
"That is Kelvin VonTrunch the 8th, heir to the..."
"VonTrunch fortune. Yeah I've heard of them. I met Kelvin VonTrunch the 6th when I was a child. He worked with my father for a while. When he died the entire family just up and disappeared. Didn't even show up for the funeral,"
"Before Kelvin the 6th died, he and his son Kelvin the 7th were working on a secret project. They were attempting to master time travel,"
"Time travel?" I laughed, "my old man said that was impossible,"
"Well it looks like he was wrong. Anyway after Kelvin the 6th died, Kelvin the 7th volunteered his family to test out the time machine he and his father has built. Only thing is they'd messed up the maths - forgot to carry the one. The whole family has been caught in a time loop ever since".
"So whats Kelvin the 8th doing at my office then?"
"He managed to break a 12hr gap in the loop and get back here,"
"And what do I have to do with this all?" I asked. The man in front of me rubbed his eyes, clearly wary of my line of questioning,
"Your father's research," the man started, "if you go in to work, you'll have your meeting with Kelvin VonTrunch the 8th and he'll convince you that your father's research holds the answer to saving his family from the time loop,"
"Will it?"
"Yes, but you can't. If you save them bad things will happen... If you save the VonTrunch family then you will be responsible for those desolate waste lands you saw earlier,"
"Oh come on, I've met some of them they're not that bad,"
"Time loops change people. No one comes out of a time loop without a soul full of evil,"
"Ok, but you said Kelvin the 8th is only here for 12hrs right? So why do I need to know all this stuff? You said don't go go work, I said ok. By tomorrow Kelvin the 8th will be back in the time loop. Why do I need to know all the villanous backstory?"
"Oh my god you are more obnoxious than the history books give you credit for,"
"I'm in history books? Maybe I should help VonTrunch..." As I laughed bars appeared on the windows and large deadbolts appeared on the door imprisoning me in my own home.
"Geeze, learn to take a joke," I rolled my eyes standing up and heading back to my room,
"I've got 12hrs to kill. I'm going back to bed... Lock up on your way out!"
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j5ymz66
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j5xsmrw
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[WP] You are a world class killer, you find a envelope at your dead drop. Inside is $15.83 and a hand written letter from a 9 year old girl.
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Part of me wondered how a kid even found out about my dead drop. The rest of me was more concerned with the job she'd paid me to do. The fact that she felt the need to even involve someone like me depressed me to no end. But I imagined I was going to feel better after I took my target out.
I sipped my coffee and grimaced; the cheap prick couldn't even be bothered to try and get some decent Keurig cups. I was contemplating whether or not to pour in a heavy amount of cream to improve the taste when the door to the office opened up. My target, one "Doctor" Bartholomew Braddock, stepped inside and froze when he saw me.
I pointed my gun at him and quietly said, "Lock the door behind you, don't make a sound."
Braddock did as he was told and asked, "Who are you?"
"Not important. What *is* important is the reason I'm here. Now get on your knees."
Braddock looked at me confused, prompting me to walk up to him and press the gun directly against his forehead. "I said on. Your. Knees."
Braddock gulped and did as he was told. I nodded approvingly and said, "Good dog. Now, I'm here because a month ago, your program admitted a young man by the name of Jordan Lee. This ringing any bells?"
"Y-yes, his parents sent us to him in the hopes we could--"
I gripped my hand around Braddock's throat to shut him up. "Let me spell this out for you: I don't give a shit what you or the boy's parents thought you were doing. I'm here because you tortured him. You isolated him, whipped him, forced him into freezing cold water, and you're doing the exact same thing to all of those other kids out there. Telling them they need to be cured of who they are."
I let go of Braddock's throat to let him breathe. As he coughed and gasped for air, I holstered my gun. "Jordan's sister is the one who hired me. Because she's the one who sees the pain in her big brother's eyes, hears the way he cries at night. Because she knows better than to think you deserve to be recognized as a person."
I pulled out my knife and rested the tip on Braddock's forehead. "Fifteen dollars and eighty-three cents for all of this. And she'll be getting her money's worth. Now, I think I'll start with an Aldo the Apache classic: giving you a little something you ain't never gonna take off."
Tears streamed down Braddock's face alongside the trickle of blood from his forehead as he shakily said, "P--Please. Have mercy."
I started carving a crucifix into his head unfettered. "Mercy is God's line of work, Braddock. Ours is the business of cruelty."
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The letter reads simply "my puppy, Charlie, is suffering and my mommy sleeps all the time. Can you help my puppy? address: 327 applewood lane"
What an insult, and how did she get my drop locale? Eh, I got nothing else going on. I pull the key fob out my pocket and hit the auto-start button for my 2017 ford fiat. A sigh of instant regret for even considering this asinine request. Is it a trap?
I slowly pull up to a rundown shaq in the middle of nowhere, merely trees and the scent of hay in the air are all that surround me. I can see a flickering candlelight behind a tattered blanket covering the small window of the shaq. As I walk towards the old shaq door I think about how careless I am being, I shrug the thoughts off. TAP...TAP...TAP I rattle my knuckles gently on the splinter ridden door. A moment passes before the door begins to creek open.
A young girl answers the door about nine or ten, however, what catches my attention is appalling. This one room shaq, the smell of cannabis, the junkie spoons and broken needles that lie about the room. The foaming and seizing dog choking in the middle of the room. My heart sinks as I look down into the emotionless eyes of this poor malnourished child. I am startled when I hear an unexpected groggling from a dark corner of the room.
"Mommy! Mommy!" The child exclaims hobbling over to the poor figured women in the corner of the room. "The man is here mommy, he's going to help Charlie!" I feel a tug at my heart, I lean against the door frame to balance my innermost thoughts screaming out in pain for this child. "MOMMY!" A loud thud of the girl hitting the ground startled me. I hadn't noticed the mother strike her daughter.
The mother slowly gains footing "Who in the hell are you?" She questions me in a slobbish southern accent. "Did Kane send you? Tell him I'll have the money by Friday."
"Ma'am I am here for Charlie." I state in a hushed voice as to hold back my anger. She takes a step forward and looks down at the dying puppy. I can clearly see her now, needle sores line her frail arms, cheeks sunken in, and the same emotionless eyes as her daughter.
"That mutt, don't bother." She says as she inches closer to the struggling puppy. "This dog's life is pointless" the daughter screams and I am taken aback as the mother stomps on the poor dogs head over and over until she is certain it's dead. I feel sick, I mean, I've killed many of people, even those who didn't deserve it. But this, this is pure evil. The young girl isn't sobbing, no tears, she just has a blank stare. As if this is usual, she seems to know that crying won't change anything, or it's been beaten out of her. I know why I am here now.
Sorry, thx for reading... I wanted to continue but it hit 500 words and I figured... u know... it's reddit so.
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[WP] You are a world class killer, you find a envelope at your dead drop. Inside is $15.83 and a hand written letter from a 9 year old girl.
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I stared down at the letter. How she managed to find me, I don't know...but it wouldn't take long. Might as well.
Her mom looked confused when she answered the door, and I gave an easy smile
"Haden residence?"
"Yes, why?" The caution in her tone was easy to hear.
"I've been contracted with your building regarding a termite issue in an adjacent complex. Just running a quick inspection." I showed my letter from the complex, confirming "I guess you weren't told, either? I've heard that a lot today. I should just be in and out in 10 minutes. May I enter?"
Ms. Henderson finally nodded, stepping back to let me enter.
"Thank you, ma'am."
Soon enough my "inspection" found me in my client's room, knelt next to her as I confirmed "It goes under your bed and in the closet?"
"Lacey, honey, I've told you there aren't any monsters. The nice man is here to look for termites. We need to let him do his job." Ms. Hayden insisted from the doorway.
I winked at Lacey before speaking up.
"Oh, I don't know about that. I'm also licensed in monster removal." I informed, seeing Lacey's eyes light up at hearing my slogan. "Let me take a look here. Bed and closet, right?" At her enthusiastic nod, I went and did a through inspection before turning back to them "Im afraid she's right, Ms. Hayden. There are definite signs of a monster infestation. Thankfully I've got a solution." I patted the canister over my shoulder "I'll just need about 10 minutes to spray the little buggers and they'll be outta here." I leaned in a bit closer to show her the fumigation sticker "Just a quick spray will do it, mostly need that 10 for airing the room. I'll open the window to let the monsters and fumes fly out together."
Her mother gave a knowing grin, thanking me profusely before leading Lacey away to play in the living room. Quickly, I got to work soundproofing before dismantling the canister to reassemble my rifle. Little Lacey's bedroom had a perfect vantage point, turns out, once I had done my research. By the time the shot was made and I had reassembled my cover, the cops were only just on their way. I sprayed a can of febreeze around a bit before opening the door and smiling at Ms. Hayden "All clear of monsters. They shouldn't bother you again. Just in case, though..." I offered her the febreeze can with a "Monster Spray" sticker slapped over the label "That should do the trick from here on out. In other news, no sign of termites. Everything should be ship-shape, now. Just let it air out in her room for a bit longer. You ladies have a nice evening." I was gone by the time that congressman's assassination hit the news, and Miss Lacey's monster problem was finally solved.
All in all, not a bad day.
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Dearest KillerMan,
I didn't know if I should do this but I've had enough. It appears my peers have been conspiring to over throw my power. Of course, as their leader I cannot have this continue. Also, as their leader, they cannot know I am behind my decision to move forward with the permanent removal of my closest ally. Please report to 1567 Jefferson St. at 10am tomorrow. The final instructions can be found in the mailbox.
Sincerely, 9 years going on 30
I chuckled as I finished the letter. It isn't often I get a request at such a low amount and from a child at that. I will say curiosity has gotten the best of me. It appears I have a date at 10 am.
I showed up to the provided location at the time given. Dressed in proper disguise, I opened the mailbox and switched my instructions with some flyers I picked up on the way. I strolled to the neighbors house and read along. It was a short note but very clear.
"He's tied up in the garage. Make sure he suffers."
I thought about how I finally get to use my creativity. Adults are far more specific in their vendettas. Hmm, maybe I'll seek more work from children. I've made enough to truly start enjoying my job for its pleasures rather than the rewards.
I walked towards the garage ensuring there were no cameras or anything that seemed fishy about this already unique job. It was as normal as when I was paid to take out the president. Easy and assisted, of course. I was happy my target was already detained. I wonder how she did it.
When I opened the door, a smile spread across my face. This was going to be wildly fun. When I saw those dark eyes looking at me, I knew he was a traitor. All of my targets have that same souless look. Always thinking they can get away with anything. It was clear, this target thought the same.
I took out my knife and watched it shine in those glistening eyes. "Should I make this quick?" I asked as if he could answer through the many pink socks that had been tied around his head. It was an interesting contraption I will say. It's never fun when they are the strong silent type. I always like a little fight. I decided to make it quick. I lurched forward and stabbed him right in the stomach. The knife went in quickly. Seemingly all the way through. It was too easy and satisfying. A rage I'd never seen had overcome me. I started stabbing relentlessly. I let go of years of anger that my clients never allowed me to have. I stabbed and stabbed until I was out of breath. I then left the garage, leaving the suspect in all four corners.
I felt so relieved. I decided to celebrate with a nice hot coffee. I changed out of my disguise and headed to my favorite coffee shop. When I got there, I sat down and started enjoying the paper while I waited on my usual barista to notice me.
"Hey there pal! It's nice to see you. Get in a fight with a teddy bear today?"
A smile crept up on my face "If you only knew"
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[WP] "Chess? I've been around since before humans invented the concept of games, so a game as old as chess would be be in my favour without a doubt. I would advice you to choose again, and pick something you're familiar with." Death said as they presented every board and video game ever created.
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"Any boardgame?"
"I KNOW THEM ALL."
"And you play them perfectly?"
"NO ONE IS PERFECT, BUT I HAVE EXTENSIVE EXPERIENCE."
"So you want to play a game with me?"
"YES."
"You just lost the game."
"I PLAY GAMES, NOT MEMES."
"Worth a try. Then I choose my game....wait, you don't have it."
"I HAVE EVERY GAME."
"Fine. Pandemic, original board edition, no expansions."
"THAT IS A CO-OPERATIVE GAME."
"Exactly. If we win, I win, so I don't die. If we lose, you lose so you didn't win."
"BUT YOU CAN NEVER DEFEAT ME."
"Exactly. But I could spend a really long time trying."
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“No,” I shook my head. “It’s the game I’m best at that’s competitive, unless you want to do a massive, several hours long RPG?”
“Fine, but your detriment. Can’t believe you’ll bet Heaven or He’ll off of that.”
“What can I say? I’m not the best at making decisions.”
We got the board out. After a coin flip, Death would play as White. After his first move, I paused.
“What? Trying to figure out all the ways this could go terribly for you?”
“Yes…” I said, moving one of my pawns up.
“Get ready, you will not have a fun time for eternity,” he said, moving a pawn that was right next to the first one.
“Checkmate” I move my Queen, stupefying Death.
“What?! No, what is this?!”
“Fool’s Mate” I laughed. “See ya” I went over to the Golden Staircase, laughing all the way.
“What is Fool’s Mate?” He wondered, confused.
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[WP] The 10 sit around the table in horror as the final decision is revealed. Their stomachs sink as they all remember the last time the entire Guild of Dentists were in agreement.
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The guild of dentists all frantically looked at one another. Every member waiting for someone to speak an ill word towards the Hyaio brand of peppermint toothpaste that laid on the table. They couldn’t all agree for once. There had to be a mistake. Mark, the youngest of the dentists, looked at Agitha. Hoping she might have some choice words for this new brand of toothpaste.
“Agitha. Even you agree this is the best product on the market? You’re practically a dental fossil at this point. Don’t you hate all the new stuff? You tried to convince me to brush my teeth with strawberries when I first joined, you can’t be in favor of this.” Henry pleaded, trying to sway her opinion.
“A fossil? Call me that again and I’ll be giving you a tooth extraction with my foot.” The older woman pushed up her glasses, using her middle finger to perform the action. “I didn’t tell you to brush your teeth with the strawberries. I told you it helps to whiten them. I was giving you advice because any person who enters your office will run in horror when they see those decaying teeth of yours.” She commented. Her words making Mark cover his mouth. “As I was saying. It’s flawless. The product can’t be beat.”
Gasps echoed through the guild hall. How long had it been since they agreed on a product? Rumors in the guild said that the last agreement was in Pompeii. This agreement bringing about the volcanic destruction of both Pompeii and Herculaneum. Even now, the lava that surrounded the dental guild bubbled as a few of the dentists gave it nervous glances.
The dental guild built to be hard to find, filled with labyrinths of dental floss triplines and shark infested mouthwash waters. Weirdly enough, the mouthwash didn’t kill the sharks. Only giving them minty breath that would smell rather pleasant before you were devoured. As they all sat in silence, leaning against the tooth covered stone table, a voice spoke up.
“Why don’t we lie? I’ll say I disagree with it, and everything will be fine.” Hayley offered, willing to throw her pearly white dental record away for the salvation of the world. Like Mark, she was one of the younger members of the guild. Hayley being the first dentist to implement the placebo anesthetic trick in her dental office. As everyone knows, dentists compete to make their offices the most unpleasant place imaginable. With Hayley having revolutionized the dental pain experience. Even getting the golden tooth for her innovation at the dental torment award show.
“You can lie to us, but you can’t lie to her.” Graham pointed to the hanging overhead statue of the tooth fairy. The beautiful woman holding a bloodied tooth that swung over the table. Her marble wings looking spectacular under the dim light of the hall. “She knows the truth. We have to accept the consequences. If an agreement has been made, we must hope she has mercy on the world. Praise be to the one true god. The almighty tooth giver and taker. May our teeth be cavity free in her name.”
“For the last time, Graham, it’s a statue, not a god. How much happy gas did you huff before you came here?” Agitha groaned, rubbing her temple. The guild really was letting anybody in these days. Back in her day, everyone here was a respected academic, not a member of the dental circus.
“So, how do we go about this? Got some weird home remedy that can spare us? Going to pull out some strawberries?” Mark teased, only to scoot back in his seat when Agitha stomped her foot down, scaring the young dentist.
“No, I’m proposing something more sensible. Who owns Hyaio?”
“Ah, now you’re speaking my language.” A tooth drill was heard as Nichole spoke, leaning forward in her chair. She was the only dentist missing three of her teeth, replacing them with ones that could hold an assortment of weaponized pills. Using them for any dental assassinations she needed to perform. “Are you thinking of killing the product before it hits the market?”
“I’m not… I thought we could reason with the CEO?” Agitha didn’t want to admit that the thought of assassination had crossed her mind. She considered herself above these degenerates, not wanting to lower herself to their standards.
“Heh, you want to reason with them? You can’t reason with CEOs. They crave money over anything. It’s like asking a leech not to suck your blood. At the end of the day, it’s a leech, that’s what it does. You can’t even really fault them for it. It’s in their DNA. So, I suggest we give them a checkup, if you know what I mean.”
“But we aren’t murderers.” Agitha protested.
“We still aren’t. Nichole’s the one doing it.” Mark answered.
“Yeah, our hands are clean and ready for the next patient.” Hayley said.
“Praise the tooth fairy in the spreading of teeth and blood.” Graham chanted, standing up from his chair, throwing his hands into the sky, praising the giant tooth fairy statue. The group stared at Graham, making a mental note not to invite him to the next meeting.
“So, what am I doing? Am I giving him a checkup?” Nichole asked. The group muttered a little indecisively before nodding. Soon, they gave their votes and all ten dentists agreed that this was the best course of action to take. “Funny, who would have thought all ten dentists would agree on something twice in one day? Don’t worry, he will be saying Ahhhh before the toothpaste hits the shelves. Once he’s out of the way, we can impose a shadow CEO into the company and get them to pull the product. I’ll leave that stage to the rest of you. May your teeth sparkle.”
“May your teeth sparkle.” The group responded, watching as Nichole left. Hoping she could prevent the doom that would soon be coming for them.
(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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As I took my seat at the expansive round table, I marvelled at the stunning backdrop unfolding beyond the glass walls of our meeting room.
“Almost as good as the WTC don’t you think?” North America said to me.“You were never there as I recall correctly” I said . I liked North America, but as Western Europe I had to maintain my smug appearance towards him.He slunk back into his chair, poor guy , no doubt by the next meeting he would have some witty comeback.
I looked around the room again, the room, bathed in an abundance of natural light pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, had a minimalist elegance about it. Stark ivory, of course, walls. The round table with a sleek chrome finish, ergonomic chairs providing the perfect balance of comfort and style. As an organisation we sure knew how to take care of ourselves, it of course helped we only did this once every 5 years. The design was understated, allowing the vibrant energy of the ten dentists gathered from around the globe to take center stage.
Outside, the cityscape of New York stretched out in all directions, a mesmerising blend of iconic skyscrapers piercing the azure sky, and yellow cabs dotting the streets below in a ceaseless, chaotic dance. Al of them unaware as always their lives hang in the balance at this very moment . Every so often, the faint blast of a car horn would rise, drifting up from the streets, a reminder of the pulsing city-life beyond our glass cocoon.
South America looked up and said “the tally is in” his face had a weird expression and pretty soon everyone picked it up. The papers, no electronics near us of course, with the votes before him all in one single pile.“No”? Said Eastern Europe “it cant be”“Finally” east Asia said.“Its about bloody time “I said “ I thought it would never happen in my lifetime”
“Quiet” South America said composing himself a bit. “As per the rules we now go to explicit outlay of the plan and then an open vote”“South Africa, as the eldest will you do the honours?”
South Africa stood up, a huge imposing man that even at 76 hadn’t lost his vitality, he was lucky , if you could call it that way. It was the last meeting he would ever attend as next time he would be over 80 the cutoff age. I snorted a bit, his successor was probably already trained and ready to take over right after this meeting, poor bastard.
South Africa cleared his throat “Thank you Chairman “ he said nodding to South America.“As you all know we , the gathered heads of the worlds dentists, have this reunion every 5 years to track the progress of the plan. The plan that is our single focus the minute were were selected to the minute we are deemed no longer needed to fulfil it.”
“Nice way of saying you get killed” North Africa said to me, it was the second time she had sat next to me and I was always irked by her opposition to authority.
“If we go forward with this and activate the plan, the implants and fillings will start to dissolve at 1 AM GMT. The latest current estimates set the total number of people who have such work done to them at 76,3% of the world population , far exceeding the minimum 50 we need. And if each of you give the go ahead and each of you is absolutely certain their region would come under our full control, by tomorrow we will have full control.”
“Hear hear” I said.“Now that the stakes are clear let’s vote” South America said nodding to me.“I vote in favour, all civilian both politicians and industry as well as all the military bras should be under control in 24 hours”“Same here” North America said.“Dito” Australia said“We have full confidence we will have control by midday “ east Asia said“By 10 AM” west Asia said, always having to outdo the other Asia.“We have worked hard the passed 5 years “ North Africa said “and project a successful take over, casualties will be minimal”Africa was always tricky but anything under 2% casualties was allowed, not including the 1% casualty rate from the implants themselves of course, that couldn’t be helped.South Africa “100% for sure”East Europe just nodded looking pale“You need to state it” South America said“100%” east Europe stammered“Full control for South America as well”
Then everyone turned to Oceania, the eternal issue after AfricaOceania was a small women, light brown skin with a traditional colourful garb of sort sort, no clue what its origin was .She stood up, knowing how monument full this was. “Oceania has worked tireless for the passed 5 years” she briefly paused looking around the room, everyone was glued to her. If anyone would back out this would be it.
“And I am confident we will have full control by midnight by every mayor power area in my region” a brief pause to let her words sink in
“Now you know there are hundreds to even thousands of such power are’s in my region spread out over a enormous area, but by focussing on the larger area’s we WILL have control of 98% of the population and power by midnight”
another dramatic pause “ so oceania agrees to start the plan”Cheers erupted around the room, Eastern Europe openly wept and fell in their arms of South Africa.I watched south America as he took a small box from under the table.
​
“Quiet” I yelled .
“Thank you” South America simply stated and put the box on the table.
I had only ever seen it when I was president almost 20 years ago now, I had heard rumours the box was older than the council itself, predating it by a significant time .
South America pushed the button.
Outside the cars and pedestrians kept up their usual routine unknowing the world would be utterly changed by tomorrow.
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High above in the moon a computer awakened from a long slumber, the AI controlling the small little outpost buried deep in the rock millennia ago took note of the received signal.
“EARTH READY TO PROGRESS TO PLAN B STAGE” it sent over the spatial link.
“AKNOWLEDGED” came back almost immediately.The AI shut itself dow again waiting for its masters.
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[WP] Magic is dependent on language. Every school of magic works best in a different language. You just tried to cast a spell in a language you and your sibling made up when you were children, just for the hell of it, and were very surprised by the results.
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“Cómo estás?” He said.
I looked at my demon. “Huh?”
“He asked how you’re doing.” The little imp said.
“Oh, tell him I’m fine,”
“Muy bien, y tu?” The imp replied.
“Bien. Un poco cansado. Hoy es un día muy largo.”
I looked to my imp, eyebrows raised.
“He said he’s also fine, but a little tired. It’s been a long day for him.”
“Ask if he is ready.” I commanded.
“Listo?” The imp asked.
“Si.” The boy responded.
“Tell him together, on three. You count, demon.” I said to the imp.
“En tres.” The imp said. “Juntos. Okay, both of you, ellos, on tres. Uno, dos, tres, vamos!”
“Sticky icky bicky…” I began chanting.
“Perrito poquito chiquito…” he chanted.
The walls flung towards us with immense force as the room exploded.
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“Bomkin skosh!” I said to my brother, grinning and crinkling my eyes.
He played along for a moment. Also smiling, he collapsed to the floor, writhing in fake agony.
It was funny for a moment or two, but when he continued flailing about, I began panicking.
I ran about the room, looking for a pillow, since I wanted to prop up his head.
I found a suitable pillow and put it below his head just as he began leaking the foam from his nostrils, ears, eyes, and mouth.
I recoiled as the substance oozed, forming a more distinct cottony texture.
The cotton fuzz ejaculated from his pores as he began making odd, high pitched squeaks, as though he were a mouse.
The foam stopped as abruptly as it had began. He lay on the ground, rounded to the size of a cylinder.
I pushed on his belly, and his body gave way to my shove.
“Eeeeeeeeeek.” He squeaked.
I leaned to pick up some of the fuzz that fell out of his mouth.
It looked just like the filling of our dog’s toys.
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[WP] It finally happened. Through means not yet known, everyone's physical beauty reflects their innermost selves; the kind but portly girl is now an absolute bombshell, the asshole CEO is now hideous, and so on. Nothing prepared you for what you came face to face with in the mirror, though.
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The phenomena happened overnight it seemed. One day we all went to bed and woke up looking unholy like ourselves and yet more like ourselves than ever before. People's true inner selves were now being reflected on the outside too. A lot of upheaval occurred in the world. Hundreds of thousands of people that were outed as the vilest humans that inhabit the darkest crevices of society could not blend in anymore, and no amount of cosmetic surgery was able to change that at all. Funnily enough, cosmetic surgery
Became a failed enterprise in the medical field as those procedures no longer worked.
For literally billions on earth, their greatest wishes came through. Turns out a lot of people on earth are surprisingly wholesome and kind and it reflected in their faces and bodies now. I heard the entirety of the transgender community wept tears of joy as they transitioned overnight into their internal forms.
The craziest thing to ever occur though was the children. They transitioned too, but it turns out, kids change and grow all the time. LITERALLY now. Little kids would go to school looking one way and by day's end could end up looking like a fairy princess or child sized cowboy. They were the first to be outfitted with special watches so that at day's end they could be indentified by their parents, teachers, and guardians to and from schools and events. No one yet knows if they'll be able to do it forever and at will, or if it'll stabilize by the time they're adults.
The second group outfitted with the watches were the prisoners. That caused quite the chaos when inmates no longer looked as they had going in. Thousands were freed when their faces changed, as their crimes were once again brought back to court and determined them not guilty. Thousands more sent into prisons to replace them for their crimes. Abusers had blue hands and faces now, make up couldn't cover it up. Arsonists had charcoal stained noses. Theives' whole bodies became neon green. The truly vile became covered in huge ugly warts and boils all over their bodies. Many Politicians the world over now had comically oversized noses and distressingly thick fingers and tongues.
Then of course there were The Unchanged. Those who didn't change noticably by much on the outside. Those who wore their innerselves already proudly and honestly.
I fell into none of these categories. It took time for me to notice that first day as honestly i was exhausted and late for work. I rushed through my routines and was out the door so fast i didn't even glance in my cars reflective surface as i approached. I had changed into a being that made no sense. My hair had become like physical light floating in water. My hands and feet glowed in whisps of light trails if i moved them. My eyes lit up like someone took them from a Super hero in a comic book. I had an ethereal look about me. My little glows changed color at passing thoughts and moods. It took weeks to realize I had become what my innerself couldn't translate. Flip flopping so quickly my innerself was in constant Flux.
I was mercurial.
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It took time to figure it out, mostly because a slim-to-moderate majority seemed at first to think it was only everyone else who had changed, at least significantly. Still, there was large secondary segment of the population who thought they had suddenly gone from ugly or plain to normal or even devastatingly beautiful. And a small minority, mostly celebrities and especially those older than 30, who saw a change in themselves that was the other kind of devastating.
Gradually, we learned that most people's friends and lovers had changed the least, while strangers had changed the most, but no one could agree on what anyone looked like for the most part. Those of us who are faceblind were highly gratified to find that visual recognition as a means of identification nearly went extinct for everyone else, too, almost overnight. Oddly to most scientists, biometrics of all types continue to work just fine.
Little by little, the Internet cracked it: we were each viewing( and hearing, touching, smelling, tasting...) people at a level of attractiveness, *by our own personal standards of beauty*, with a physical morphology that synced up with each person's goodness *by our personal standards of morality*. So if you were a liberal with a thing for redheads, all your fellow liberals' hair was suddenly flaming in your eyes—but the secret ultracapitalist who was just going along with the group? You'd see as pale- or dark-haired. A lot of people were shocked to find how much the skin tone of other people had changed, and many were forced to finally confront their self-denied racism before they could see their friends and even mixed, step, adopted, or in-law family members with their original skintones and other ethnic traits again. And as for trans people? They mostly show up to other people as the gender they believed themselves to be, or... something else entirely. Hard to describe, you'll know when you see them—but like everyone, there's a range from hideous to beautiful depending on their unrelated personality traits. At least it quickly settled the gender identity question for a lot of people who were just questioning or in denial. They still have to come out to their doctors, though, and in some cases have surgeries; it didn't change the genes or organs of most.
I don't mean to make light of the problems the change did cause, though; issues like yours—those in comas and others whose families lost track of them in the hospital systems, now waking and trying to reorient to this weird new existence.
All in all, it's slowly breaking down barriers, but it didn't change anybody's political tribes overnight. But y'know what? I have a secret, something I've hardly told anyone, something that surprised the hell out of me when I first saw it. You see, when I look in the mirror... well, maybe someday, if I really trust you. There're only few people in the worlds who know.
Hmm? Oh, I said there're only few people in the world who—
What? No, world, singular. I used the singular.
...didn't I?
Aw, shucks. I guess maybe I already like you more than I thought. But I guess maybe I already knew that; after all, I can see it plainly. I hope you like what you see when you look at me, because I think I see that you do, in your eyes. And in my eyes, your beauty is heartbreaking. Heartbreaking, in the way that's totally worth it, in every world, every single time.
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[WP] You wished to find a dragon to slay for its treasure. Now you're not sure how to feel seeing a thumb-sized dragon try to drag its single shiny copper coin with it as it runs away from you.
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As I took to the stage, I couldn’t help but think of the trials that brought me here today.
I would not be a dragon rider today, if it hadn’t been for the sacrifices and kindness of my elders.
The hills that sheltered my hometown were once guarded by an ancient copper dragon.
Once home to the greatest treasure hoards in the known world, long since pillaged by would-be treasure hunters. The proud flock of Wyrms that once nested in the hills had been virtually wiped out.
They hadn’t seen a dragon in three generations, yet many young treasure hunters left to make their fortunes in the abandoned mines.
A single piece of copper bought my family’s legacy.
My Great-Grandfather stumbled upon the last of the copper wyrm by accident. He had wandered into a side tunnel in the old mines in search of fortune. And he would find it, just not in the way he had expected.
He saw a glint on the floor and as he reached for it, he felt something clamp down on his hand.
As he yelped, the beast didn’t waiver. It clutched the coin tightly.
To see a beast, scarcely longer than his finger growling and clutching the last of his family’s fortune. A single copper piece.
“We both needed to eat.” He would say.
But my Great-Grandfather didn’t have the heart to steal its final treasure. Because “to each a legacy”. He had learned from his own grandfather. The sword he carried on his hip and the flagon that gave him lifesaving water had both been gifts from his own family.
He wouldn’t dare take the last from this proud beast.
He did not have the heart to take the last binding piece of this dragon’s heritage. And instead offered to help regrow its hoard.
And so took the last of his meat ration and offered it to the wyrm. A promise and a down payment.
And the wyrmling accepted, nestling in his coat pocket.
When he brought the tiny wyrmling back home he was unsure of what to expect. And to his surprise, the town was flooded by tourists. His son would take to running the family trade. We would become a new breed of a adventurers.
“Just one copper to see a real life dragon!” My Grandfather would shout, every day as a young man. “But every tip you give goes to help our town, so please give generously!”
My forefathers assumed the novelty would wear off quickly, but their sons and daughters took to the beastie and raised it well, growing the family coffers with each passing day, and growing the town with it.
We didn’t hoard our half of the wealth. Every bit invested back. And so the town learned to love the dragon with us.
My grandfather raised the beast like a raptor, training to pick off game birds and to skim shallow water for shiny rocks and lost pieces of currency.
Crowds would begin to gather, and these shows became rituals.
The dragon would expect fair compensation and would learn to snatch up coins out of hats in the outstretched hands of onlookers.
To watch the beast grow with my lineage was a sight to behold. With each piece added to its hoard, the tiny dragon began to ebb and flex its tiny form. With every victory, its confidence and the confidence of my grandfather grew.
When our village came under attack, my father was not yet a man. But the dragon had grown with two generations of our family. It was the size of a steer by this point, and it was then that we witnessed its first breath attack.
The village was safe, our family’s legacy was secure. And more importantly, so was the dragon’s horde.
We never meant to become a banking clan, or to carry a banner and sigil of a copper dragon. We never meant to be performers and merchants. We were supposed to be adventurers.
When I came of age, I was presented with a copper piece. It was purely symbolic, of the same print run and sigil as the one held by the dragon. But the dragon understood the meaning. I was part of its family too.
A single copper piece bought our legacy. And I would carry it with me always.
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When I discovered the genie in my Coca-Cola bottle, I was only an eight year old boy. The genie was happy; its home wasn't full of fizzy fluid anymore, so it decided to grant me a wish.
Not knowing any better, and having just read a few fantasy stories, I wished for a dragon to slay, so I could take its hoard.
The genie took one look at me. Now that I'm thinking back on it, I would say its expression was one of pity. The genie knew that I was merely a weak, starry-eyed child. I hadn't even used a mouse trap or squashed a bug, yet I was asking for a dragon to slay? I had no skills, no sword, no shield; and, basically I had no chance of winning against a dragon.
However, genies are duty-bound to fulfill the wishes given. Thankfully, this genie was a gracious one, so he summoned a dragon that was more at my level.
As the genie poofed back into my Coca-Cola bottle, a tiny dragon poofed onto my table.
I looked at the thumb-sized dragon. It held a single wheat penny in its claws. I raised an eyebrow. *This isn't what I had in mind.*
Seeing my reaction, the tiny dragon started running away from me, trying to carry its penny. I put my hand down in front of it. It turned and ran right. I put my other hand in front of it. It turned and ran left.
This went on for about a minute. I was giggling from its reaction. It wasn't slowing down; in fact the little dragon kept running faster. But it didn't look frightened. If anything, it looked flustered or annoyed. After a couple more runs back and forth, it stopped and looked at me. It scowled, and then spoke.
*"If you continue my plight, your hand I will bite. But be warned, little child, my teeth are not mild. For when they're sunk in, your heart I will win. Choose wisely, young one; my bond is lifelong!"*
In the depths of my soul, something was stirred by the dragon's words. My young mind couldn't comprehend the meaning behind them, but it knew, somehow, that this was an opportunity that I **shouldn't** resist. So, when the dragon ran again, I again put my hand in front of it.
True to its word, the little dragon bit my little hand. But what happened next was truly shocking! The little dragon bit hard enough to make a tiny scar on my hand, and it bit just hard enough to extract a single, tiny drop of blood. The dragon then licked the blood and used a tiny bit of fire breath, cauterizing and sterilizing the mark it left on me. Then, it grew, changing form as it did. The dragon smiled and stared at me the whole time. It became my size and took on humanoid form.
What was a tiny dragon ten seconds ago was now a dragon girl! She sat on the table, with her legs and feet dangling towards the floor. Her smile never wavered, though it was a bit more of a smirk, like she was happy that she'd tricked me.
For what it's worth, I was basically stupefied. A tiny dragon had just become a dragon girl before my eyes. I didn't know what to think. No, it was more like I **couldn't** think! It was like a bolt of lightning had struck my brain. And though nothing hurt, my ability to reason was just...gone!
The dragon girl hopped down from the table. She looked herself over for a second. Then she realized that I was wearing clothes and she wasn't, so she clicked her fingernails...er, talon nails?...and an outfit appeared on her frame. Then she looked me directly in the eyes, which wasn't hard, since our height was exactly the same. Then she spoke again.
*"This encounter you shall forget, but our bond you shall not regret. You and I forever together will be. Your name the same, but mine?"*
She paused. Her expression softened and looked hopeful. Apparently she wanted me to give her a name. I had noticed her constant rhyming, so I said the only name I knew that could fit the pattern.
"Chelsea."
She smiled again. And it was genuine this time! It was like I had said something that she was really hoping for. I'll always remember that smile.
I suddenly felt very exhausted, like I couldn't remain awake for another second, much less standing. As I fell, Chelsea caught me. I don't remember much else from that day, but I do remember that Chelsea cooed at me as I fell asleep in her warm, strong arms.
(TBC)
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jcmf4j8
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jckp4n8
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[WP] Write a journal entry from a zombie apocalypse by a person who doesn’t realise they’ve been bitten.
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August 3rd, 2056
I had to shoot the dog. I took no pleasure in it, I must admit. I cried over that dog.
Macy tried to comfort me, but nothing came through. The dog saved my life many times over. It hurt to see her suffering so much, a chunk of flesh missing from her back, already turning green-ish brown from the infection. It was rotting before my very eyes. I shot the dog before the kids saw and buried her in the backyard.
On the bright side, our traps are working. We caught a fawn; Macy told me after I told the kids the dog ran away. She made us soup. I’m so glad they’re catching animals. We haven’t had fresh meat in days. I was worried the kids were going to starve before we got anything.
It was some damn good soup.
August 5th, 2056
Lucy got sick. Macy said they were on a walk and she ate some poisonous leaves. The poor thing was starving. We gave her the leftover soup so she can get better. I think Harlan caught it too. He hasn’t gotten out of bed all day.
Honestly, I’m not feeling great either. I’ve been feeling under the weather for the past few days. Maybe it’s grief from losing the dog. I don’t know anymore.
The traps haven’t caught anything else yet.
August 8th, 2056
Lucy is dead.
I had no choice. She was turned. I don’t know how. I killed her the same way I killed the dog. She didn’t suffer at all.
I don’t know how to tell Harlan.
August 9th, 2056
Macy made soup again. The traps caught veal this time. A cow must have escaped from the ranch nearby. It was dead when she found it.
Harlan is sick, so we gave him Lucy’s portion. We told him she went to the stronghold beyond the canyon. He asked when he could go there too. I can’t lose him either. Macy’s been acting strange too. I think she’s getting whatever he has. I think I’m sick too, but I can’t let them know. I need to carry us forward.
August 10th, 2056
I want to kill her.
Macy fed us the infected meat from the dog. We were all infected, but Lucy got the worst of it. She turned the fastest.
We ate her. Macy said it was veal and I didn’t question it. She fed me my fucking daughter. She’s killed us all. We fed more to Harlan, so he got infected too. I had to kill him too. She’s about to turn, I can feel it. I’m not going to give her that chance.
August 12th, 2056
She’s dead.
I’m next.
If you’re reading this, stay away. Don’t eat the meat in the icebox. Don’t eat anything.
Good luck.
-Trenton Katze
P.S. the revolver has five bullets left in it.
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January 1^(st), 2023, home
Happy new year,
didn't expect to survive this long honestly, not alone.
kinda wish Liam and Klaire still alive, would be fun to talk the whole night off while drinking that jack D we found on November at someone's kitchen.
Well, toast to you all, got to plan tomorrow's run.
​
January 4^(th), 2023, home
Klaire's 4th rule: follow and plan your escape routes.
Should've checked the back alley for blockades or stuff, I was lucky those things can't climb over fences (or unlucky, damn wire tore my shoulder, Hopefully I have enough antibiotic to fight tetanus)
​
January 6^(th), 2023, home
Feeling better, hopefully I did not get tetanus from that rusty fence.
probably I should get some stuff from the clinic, just to be safe.
P.s Remember to pack some food, these days feels like I'm getting hungry faster.
​
January 12^(th), 2023, CB Clinic
Writing journal helps they say, it calms your mind they say.
It certainly does not make those things go away from the building.
going to risk escaping this place tomorrow, starving
Note to self: Hide in cafeteria next time, not the X ray room.
​
January 14^(th), 2023, home
Liam, Klaire, why do you guys leave me behind?
~~Why do~~ nevermind, shyt happens in life, got to go with it.
back to actual stuff, might need to check another clinic for more meds or smth that helps, My shoulder feels numbs and my head feels heavy these days.
​
January 17^(th), AC apartment
Rule no.4, rule no.4, RULE NO.4.
I think i an having fever. sleep
​
January 19^(th), A
Should've checked the alley, always check them.
nearly broke my leg slipping from that dumpster, i think i hit my head.
I'm not sure if i will write this journal in near time, they are near me, need all the sleep i can get.
​
january 23^(rd), 2023, MD Condominium
One can of chicken a day keeps the starvation away. (Still hungry)
Not sure if I am too hungry to move, or that rusty fence is giving me fever, body is weak.
Hopefully the main door can hold out.
​
Jan 24 2023 MD Condo
Something is wrong
I can't feel my shoulder
fevers high
hungry
canned tuna mayo didn't help
​
Jan
I think i am finished.
should've remembered how to treat tetanus.
should;ve gotten that jab back in hs
should've remembered rule no.4
Should've listend to Klaire
at least i'm not eaten alive
not like them
I'm sorry
​
Jan something
If anyone find this book, go check XX Apartment, unit XV, take whatever you need from my place.
take the Jack d too
My name is Russell, and friend of Liam and Klaire.
(If i survived, i should remove this)
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j8lg1q1
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[WP] You are kidnapped by the villain regularly, but you’re starting to look forward to it. You know they won’t hurt you, and are simply being dramatic. It also doesn’t help that you are the only person they ever kidnap. This time, the hero doesn’t bother trying to save you.
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You sense them in the shadows long before you see them.
"Hello Percival. How are are you today?"
"Perci...what!? I am TERROR-DACTYL! Terror of the night!"
"Oh Terry dear. Sorry I was expecting someone else You're early. Can I just finish my dinner? Join me I have more than enough."
"Was the rest for *Percival*?"
What was that tone? Jealousy?
Mildly amused, you avoid telling Terror-dactyl that Percival is your neighbour. Or more specifically, your neighbour's cat you were minding. Percival doesn't like you much and lurks in the shadow.
"We have no time for dinner. Come with me now, don't make me hurt you." Terror-dactyl points their freeze ray at you. Hesitating he smells the air.
"Is that Beef Wellington?..." Then very quietly "It's my favourite."
"No" Terror-dactyl continued "Fenik will be here soon. We must away"
"You're worried about my br....my hero Fenik"
You dont know why you're still covering, this is the 11th time Terror-dactyl has kidnapped you. Surely he knows the connection between you and Fenik. Otherwise why would he choose you every time.
Sigh
"Fenik isn't coming today. He's busy with a volcano on a remote island. Saving the locals."
Conveniently timed with your brother’s honeymoon, with his lovely new spouse Jay. Also known as Glacio.
Their teams had spread word about a fake volcano eruption, and how Glacio and Fenik were saving the day. So that Jay and Frederick could honeymoon in peace.
You sit down at the table and slice into the Beef Wellington.
"Fenik will return to save you anyway." Terror-dactyl said deflated.
"Nah, he said 10 was enough times. Next time I could rescue myself. I could, you know, rescue myself. Supposing of course I *want* to be rescued"
He looks at you perplexed.
"Powers are genetic. My brother didn't get them all."
You pinch your fingers on the unlit candle wick, removing your hand to show the now lit candle.
"Hero work never appealed to me, I let Fenik deal with that. Now last time we met, you said you'd teach me chess."
|
As the giant robot sentry lumbered out of the cell, I stretched out on the surprisingly comfortable bed to wait for dinner. My captor always insisted on the finest furnishings and cuisine, even for his perpetual prisoner.
Though the kidnappings were an inconvenience, a small part of me had come to look forward to these forced getaways from my ordinary lonely life. My apartment was so quiet and routine, day after day passing with little change or company. But here, I had Vilhelm's undivided attention, as dramatic and over-the-top as it might be. There was a thrill in wondering what new technological terror or scheme they had devised, a comfort in the predictability of their theatrical pontifications about foolish heroes and impending doom. I never feared the threats or traps because escape was never the point for Vilhelm. Only the performance.
Perhaps it was ironic that only by being repeatedly kidnapped did I gain a sense of connection with someone else, even if through overblown artifice. While the masked introductions were unnecessary repetitions, dropping my usual objections might ruin the fun for my captor. Vilhelm lived for crafting elaborate spectacles, and I for once had a role to play. The playacting was more than the nothing waiting back in my apartment, where the hours were undefined and spider mecha did not skitter across the floor on cue.
Still, after months of dramatics, I wondered what might happen if I convinced Vilhelm to unmask and step out of character for a normal conversation. To speak face to face not as captor and captive but as two people who had spent so much time enacting this strange ritual together. Perhaps without the pretense between us, my apartment would not seem so lonely or the days so quiet. But that might land me back there with only silence awaiting, this reprieve from the ordinary lost for good.
Was it time to shatter the illusion, or keep my usual objections unvoiced? For now, as another impressive dinner arrived, I would see how the performance unfolded. Real life could wait while scheming henchmen took their cues and threats of doom swelled anew. If playing prop to Vilhelm's plans granted nights of activity and company otherwise lacking, so be it. The world outside could always come calling soon enough.
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j4jlfkn
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[WP] You died and were sent to hell, but instead of getting escorted down to a specific level of hell, you're escorted straight to the Devil himself who looks mildly horrified while holding the file of your life in his hands.
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"You don't look surprised to be here."
You stare at your feet, offering no reply. What else is there left to say, at this point?
"You know what most people get wrong about the afterlife?" The devil asks as he closes your file. "They think they don't have any choice in the matter. That there's some kind of great cosmic judge who ultimately decides where you go when you die. But that isn't really so. The truth is... Well... Everyone goes where they *expect* to go."
The words shock you to your core as the implications slowly become clear to you. You look up at the devil. Surprisingly, he appears somewhat concerned.
"You're here because you think you deserve this. You really, *genuinely* believe you're a bad person. Why is that?" The devil picks up your file again. "I've handled some truly nasty cases in my time, and I've prided myself on giving them the punishments they think they deserve. But *you*? Come on... I mean, look at your file! You're not a bad person. Not really."
The devil sighs. It's a strange sight- you could swear he looks tired, and maybe even a bit sympathetic. He picks up the phone sitting on his desk and dials a number.
"Got another one, Pete. I'm sending them back up." He paused while the person on the other end spoke. "No, no, it's nothing like that. I just think..." He paused again. "... I just think they're depressed. And that maybe they need another chance. I'm marking them for a do-over." As he speaks, the devil marks your file with a rubber stamp. It reads "NOT YOUR TIME YET."
You begin to feel light, suddenly. Before you know it, you're floating- ascending toward something you can't see. As you rise, the devil calls out to you.
"Go easy on yourself this time, huh? If I see you back here again, I'm keeping you!"
|
The piano fell so fast. At least, that’s the last thing I remember before I ended up here. Standing in front of the devil himself, instead of being transported to a specific level of Hell like the rest of its waiting patrons.
I fidget in place in front of the pedestal the Devil’s intricately carved throne resides upon, waiting for him to decide my fate.
I watch his youthful face as he flips through the pages of my file, his sharp features slowly transforming from bored disdain to mildly horrified.
His eyes, pools of endless black, glance up and study me from head to toe with practiced precision. My skin itches everywhere he looks, the subtle horror in his expression refusing to subside.
I’m seconds away from hyperventilating when the Devil finally deigns to speak. “Your life is utterly atrocious.” His voice is smooth and sultry, yet holds promises of terrible punishments.
“Come again?” I manage to squeak out with what little air is left in my lungs.
He sets down my file, then readjusts the cuffs of his charcoal suit. “Your time on Earth. It was horrifyingly boring, simple, monotonous, and uninspiring. Not a good deed to your name, but no bad ones either. Such a waste of a good life.” He sighs, leaning back in his seat.
Before he meets my gaze again my eyes dart to the tile floor. My heart is racing in my chest as I think over my life. I mean he’s not wrong, but is he right? Did I really not do anything worthwhile during my time alive?
“You know what this means don’t you?,” the Devil asks me, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips.
I’ve officially lost my ability to speak so I shake my head no. Fearing the worst from the deity who literally deals in terror for a living.
“It means that it’s time for you to undergo The Trials and Tribulations. It’s where you decide what is to become of your time in the Underworld, or maybe, if luck is on your side, you’ll earn a second chance at life.”
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jiskf9m
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[WP] "Rules are, you can't—" "Yeah, yeah," you cut off, "I can't wish for more wishes. Should I also assume I can't wish I can wish for more wishes?" At this, the genie pauses.
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"Look. Listen here, fuckers. Three wishes. No more, no less. Only three wishes. You can't make me grant you more than three wishes." The Djinn said, pointing a angry finger at Jack and Kyle, who consulted with each other.
Jack spoke up. "We wish for more genies."
"You fucking -" The Djinn frowned. Another Djinn poofed into existence, portly and heavily bearded, with a balding head and thick glasses.
"Hey, guys. You want to make some wishes or something?" Genie 2 said, adjusting his glasses.
"No, don't answer any requests for wishes or anything like that, dude. They fucking like, loopholed my ass. Look at them. What are they gonna do? Wish for what?"
Jack Black shook his head. "You're right. We have everything we could possibly want. I'm a Hollywood megastar, a world beloved comedian, a musician and I was in a movie with Ben Stiller."
Kyle Gass cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, and I-"
"Not now, Kage! Look, we get .. five wishes!"
"You're huge assholes. Five wishes. Fine. You get five. What the fuck do you want?' the original genie scratched his beard.
"...I don't know." Jack muttered. "What do you wish for, Kage?"
"I don't know, man, I wish I knew." Kyle said, shrugging. He shimmered, and with a startle of surprise, he snapped to reality. "I wish I had a full head of hair again. No. Hold on. I wish I had the serenity to accept being bald."
"You already had that!" The original genie yelled, pulling at his hair. "You've been bald for decades!"
"Then I don't know. Does that count towards wishes?"
"I'm leaving! I'm giving these wishes to someone who fucking understands what this opportunity means!"
On the other side of Hollywood, Ben Stiller stood in line at a Subway. "And so. Then, I was telling my personal friend Vince Vaughn, sure, we can have the guy dressed as a pirate. Pirates are funny. Really cinched the movie."
With a flash of light, the genie appeared before him. "BEN STILLER! I GRANT YE THREE WISHES! WHAT IS YOUR HEARTS DESIRE?"
Ben marveled with stars in his eyes for a moment, before pausing.
"I don't know."
"God damn it."
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There was a brief silence. I look into the genie's eyes. It looks partly confused, partly surprised. There seems to be something more but I can't point it out exactly.
"So should we cut the chase and start making wish? First-"
"But how? How do you know?" The genie cuts me off, asking in a shaky tone
"It is simple. I have heard story about you folks." I smile with confidence, "After all, I did the research and performed the ritual. That is why you are here."
"Um... I see."
"So can I make my wish now? My first wish is-"
"I am sorry, I think I am obligated to tell you something before the whole wishy thing starts."
"Sure. But keep it short. I don't want to hear a long conversation of all the rules and restrictions."
"You see... Here is the complications:" The genie pauses, reluctantly gives a sigh, "You can technically make a wish for more wish. And I am obligated to tell you the truth."
"Wait really?! Isn't that a loophole? That is different from what I-"
"Yes... Well the complications is that you are not supposed to know all of these. We made sure to remove every trace of information about the rules and restrictions. And as far as I know, this is not one of those."
"So... That sounds great to me!" I shout, but then I see the look of the genie, "There is more to it I assume?"
"The question is *where* you read about it. Like I said, we make sure to remove information about us as much as possible."
"I read it from that book..." I point to the old, worn out book on the desk: The book of genie, "It is surprisingly detailed, there is a ritual written on the last page as well."
"Crap" the genie says as it grabs my hand. An eerie light glows from the circle on the flood. Slowly a shadowy figure rises from it.
"Quick! Make a wish!" The genie shouts as the shadow starts to take shape. I am still confused by the whole exchange
"There is no time to hesitate! Gosh I can't tell you what wish you need to make. Quick!"
As the figure finally forms in shape, I can finally identify what it is: It looks exactly like the genie in front of me, except with a pair of crimson eyes and half broken horns on its head
"Hello! Would you like to make a wish?" The figure smiles. But my body just wants to run away immediately
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jtcn9n3
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jtck12p
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[WP] A hero's work never ends. You became a litch out of necessity. The next hero would not be summoned for another thousand years and you were old. You planned to stay around long enough to pass the safety of the world on to the next.
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"I am no longer unseen." I said. And just like that, I appeared before the Castellan in his private chamber.
The Castellan's eyes widened in horror as he saw me. He started screaming.
"The door to this chamber is locked, and everyone outside is deaf to any sound you might make," I said. Then, since I'd been a little slow on the draw, I added. "Any who have heard already will now forget, and return to whatever they were doing before."
For the sake of clarity, I should add that I was not informing him of some preparation I had made previously, but rather I was causing of all those things to happen by proclaiming them to be so.
That's what spells start to look like when you get *really* good at magic: simple statements that become reality. When you work with the arcane forces underlying reality regularly over several centuries, they no longer require you to observe formalities. Like a friendly innkeeper who gets to know his regulars.
The Castellan, of course, didn't care about such technical curiosities of the mystic arts. He was more interested in the gaunt, skeletal figure in tattered robes that was presently looming over him, regarding him balefully with eye sockets that were empty except for two pupil-sized points of sickly green light -- that is to say, me.
He tried to force the door open anyway. I didn't feel like waiting for him to finish, so I interrupted his frantic rattling of the knob with another statement of fact.
"Your emotions have been soothed, and you are able to think clearly." I told him.
He stopped his pointless efforts to push the door open, and since I had purged his mind of the terror he'd been feeling, he probably also remembered that it opened *inward,* and felt very silly.
Since I had forced his mental faculties back into his possession, he turned to face me, and regarded me discomforted curiousity, instead of horror.
"Are you death?" he asked, looking me up and down.
"Dead? Yes. Death? No, not generally." I replied. "For the purposes of this discussion, let us say that I am a Royal Bailiff."
He frowned. "You are? I'm in charge of appointing Royal Bailiffs. I feel certain that I would remember you."
"I was appointed to my position in perpetuity, several monarchs ago." I explained. "My full title is Royal Bailiff, Magistrate, and Executioner Plenipotentiary."
"Executioner and Magistrate as well?" the Castellan exclaimed. "I've never heard of those titles being held together."
"Hasn't been any need for another one, thus far. I more or less have it handled."
"So...to what do I owe the...uh...?" he trailed off, awkwardly.
"I'm here to kill you."
His shoulders slumped. He probably would have been horrified or outraged, but my spell had left him incapable of such emotion, and the best he could manage was supreme disappointment.
"Oh." he said, glumly. "Can I ask why?"
"Of course. I'm required to tell you, actually," I said, genially. "You're the next Dark Lord -- got to kill you, you'll do all sorts of horrible nonsense, otherwise."
"But...I wasn't planning on it," he protested.
"No, but you will." I assured him. "You like manipulating things, being the power behind the throne, and all that. Eventually you'd want more, and you'd poison the royal family and seize power with the help of an evil cult that grants you dark magic in exchange for the sacrifice of peasants to their blood-soaked god. Granted, the crown prince *would* escape your purges and return to bravely overthrow you many years later, but it'd be pretty gloomy hereabouts in the meantime, so best to just kill you now, I think."
"What, you can see the future?"
I made a noncommittal gesture. "Possible futures, yeah."
"Just possible?" he said, hopefully. "So, maybe I *wouldn't* do all those horrible things?"
"Maybe." I agreed.
"But you're still going to kill me?"
I nodded.
"That doesn't seem like it'd be legal." the Castellan said, frowning.
"Ah, well you see it's not." I said. "You've just hit on the reason why court cases aren't decided by divination -- you can't *absolutely* tell what will happen in the future."
"So, what if I promise to--" he began, but I cut him off.
"Sorry, no. Years ago I developed a sort of probability scoring system for how likely someone is to become a Dark Lord, and taking all risks and benefits into consideration I set the threshold for killing someone -- versus just giving them a good talking-to and keeping my eye on them -- at a 31.46% probability of becoming a Dark Lord," I said.
"Where am I?"
"31.463." .
"Aw!" he cried, "Not even a hundredth of a percent over the line?"
"But over the line nonetheless, sorry. The system's very precise, I don't do rounding."
"Damn it!" he said, snapping his fingers.
"Well that's not up to me, I'm just going to kill you." I said. "I'm not a priest, of course, but I expect you're alright -- you haven't done it yet, after all. Probably get off with a few years of Purgatory on the other side."
"You still haven't told me how this could be legal," he pointed out.
"Well, it's not, like I said -- even with the rather broad discretionary authority I was granted by the king's great-great-great-great-great grandfather, I can't execute you for something you haven't done yet." I explained. "But, after skimming from the exchequer for years, you *have* recently passed an amount of embezzlement from the royal treasury that *technically* makes it a capital crime."
The Castellan winced. "Oh. That."
"Yeah." I said, sympathetically, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Had to wait for that to pile up, otherwise I'd have done this *years* ago, to be honest. Ready?"
He nodded glumly.
"You're dead." I pronounced.
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They say time flies, and in truth it doesn't matter if you're having fun or not. One day you're forcing yourself to learn how to set things on fire with your mind, even when your magical abilities are likely on the negative, the next you're floating atop a pillar made out of the petrified corpses of the long forgotten royal guard of a slightly less forgotten mad king. And you made the pillar yourself in an attempt to dissuade future royal guards from protecting future mad kings.
I am now 3740 years old by my count, 930 since I transferred from the ancient corpse to the animated obsidian construct. My name used to be Ador Ro-Thelor, but I don't use it anymore because these days adoran means "ancient emperor" and Rothelon is the name of a legendary eater of souls. Both are because of me. It would be a little on-the-nose and I expect to keep a low profile, least the Prophesied One gets the wrong idea.
I did have my bad days, and I did eat some souls. But to be fair the first few were in self defense, and the rest were the easiest way to make sure someone would really exit the mortal realm and stop threatening it. But as the centuries turn to millennia, folks tend to forget context and nuance, and you wouldn't believe what kind of unsavory individuals can become cultural heroes.
Say, for instance, the Prophesied One was to be born among the Shorefolk of the Indigo Sea. He or she would grow up knowing that the monstrous Arodellon the Beast-like killed and ate warrior king Tik Takel, who taught humanity how to fish. Therefore the Prophesied One would likely want to kill me upon learning I am, technically, Arodellon, even if I only have one head and one back and lack 28 of the arms he'd expect me to have. And by the way, the shorefolk of the Indigo Sea already knew how to fish when Dichachel became a warlord among them, and the only thing he tried to teach them was how to die in large numbers to expand his territory. And I didn't ate the whole of him, just his essence when it became apparent he had been bound with the very land in order to rule forever.
Or say the Prophesied One is born among the Lava Dancers of Mount Firemaw. Actually, let's really hope he doesn't, I don't have a lot of excuses for that one. I just needed the power urgently and Mount Firemaw was the closest available source, and back then nobody knew active volcanoes are so important to keep lands fertile.
The point is, it would be very easy for a newly appointed hero to mistake me for a bad guy. The descendants of the Guantos and the Yrubos don't really care that two thousand years ago those two groups were mortal enemies and would have wiped each other out had I not nudged them in more constructive paths, at the cost of some free will until they became the grybandic peoples. All they remember is the Thousand Years of Slavery. Which wasn't slavery, by the way, I was only keeping them from freely murdering each other.
The Prophesied One is taking his or her sweet time though. It should not have been me decapitating the Moon Goddess a millennia and a half ago. It should not have been me thwarting the Stream Conflux six hundred years ago. I mean, honestly, it was kind of pathetic how easy that was. And the Merge in the South should have happened a little bit, last century, before a new hero would've been able to stop it. But there was no new hero so I stepped in and Silouche, The Flesh Lord, decided to turn away all on his own upon seeing me. That's not how it's supposed to go! Even bards have trouble making that into an interesting story, and I'm pretty sure a couple of songs are attempts at making me the bad guy in that story, against a thing called The Flesh Lord no less!
I had a whole Order of the Foretold organized about 700 years ago, with the single purpose of identifying and nurturing the Prophesied One. Any prophesied one. Powerful people in secret circles of influence were terrified, convinced The Dark One (that'd be me in some cases), was trying to find and kill That Who Will Vanquish Him. So many first borns being hidden away, none with even a hint of prophesiededness.
I'll even confess to trying to *cause* a prophesied one or two. The Shambling Duke is still part of some very dark songs, and from the other one there's still the Crater Lake. So that's not something I'm happy to look into again.
It's not like The Realm is in any danger, I guess. People have learned not to mess with certain powers and certain magics, and external beings are less and less inclined to try taking over. About two thousand years ago I read a doom chant which was supposed to be happening this decade, but there is no hint of any starplague, in whatever way you interpret that. Kings are just, or as just as you can expect kings to be. Witch lords keep to themselves. Barbarians pillage as little as possible, mostly out of tradition. Monsters have been doing their best to integrate with societies. There are no darknesses rising at any corner of the map, no shadows looming over anything (unless you count me, in some traditions' opinion), so maybe there's nothing urging the prophesied one to come along.
Maybe I should pay a visit to the gods who in the past have shown a proclivity to incarnate in the mortal realm, see if any of them is feeling like dropping by, doing some heroics, taking over from me. But gods look at me funny, it's sort of uncomfortable.
Or maybe I *should* go evil. Be the threat which requires vanquishing. But I really don't want to. I know so many different ways in which I could destroy the world, or even The Realm, that the thought of even pretending to do so makes me sick. I guess I could threaten one of the Outer Dwells, bring upon the wrath of a demiurge, not the Flesh Lord though, that whole deal was so ridiculous. But I shouldn't have to do any of those things! I've worked so hard to build up this place, causing it to suffer any damage makes me anxious!
So, there's only waiting.
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jpeu35z
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jpel384
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[WP] Other alien species have warriorcasts with selected members of their society who can kill, a rare feature. Humans have military and soldiers, and today the aliens learn that any human can join the military.
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Any one will do.
That was my assumption. General knowledge of human culture and capabilities was lacking in those early cycles following the inclusion of humankind into the Galactic community. Only one of my colleagues in the Hal-Et Trading Corps had ever taken a human onboard, and she offered a glowing recommendation for the species.
So it was that when I found myself shorthanded at port with an urgent contract to fill, I decided to take one on to my crew. I didn't put much thought into who I would pick. I simply pointed to the first human my eye landed on in the recruitment pool and waved a tentacle forward. This human was a male named Charlie. I inquired as to his specialization, but he insisted that he could perform any task that I required of him.
I must say, I was immediately impressed. He loaded twice as much cargo as anyone else. He was strong, he was fast, and he was precise. One must be precise, after all, when transporting volatile materials to the front lines. I explained repeatedly how dangerous our contract was. Charlie was untroubled. He mentioned more than once that 'anything would beat another shift in sanitation.'
I do wonder if he still feels that way.
We were in the last stretch of our journey when we were intercepted by the enemy. A single well placed round could have killed us all and destroyed the supplies, but they wanted our cargo for themselves.
They wanted to use it against our people.
We were helpless. 14 merchants and a human against an invasion party of 6 warriorcast Xalig Fearbringers. "What's with the gloom?" Charlie asked. "We have them outnumbered." I explained to him that these invaders can and would kill us all. The human was nonplussed. He simply left the room. The rest of us made peace and accepted our fates. When the Fearbringers entered, we were already on our knees. We pleaded with them to kill us quickly, knowing that was not their custom.
Then Charlie returned.
I had seen him load cargo. I knew, at that point, what human exertion looked like. So you can believe me, dear reader, when I say that he killed all six of those Fearbringers without even trying. Admittedly, I could not be sure whether he was 'sweating' as he did while he hauled cargo onboard earlier that day. He was too drenched in blood to tell.
When he dropped the steel bar he had used to kill the invaders, we all saw the look in his eyes. In that moment, I realized what he meant when I hired him. He didn't lie when he said he could perform any task. When it comes to humans, it doesn't matter what job you need done.
Any one will do.
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"So, based on your interests while researching documents on the ship's archive, you are one of the human... tech scientists, aren't you?" I asked staring my 5 slit eyes towards the bipedal, skin creature who just joined the crew, a human. "Well, the word may be technician, and not really, I used to be on the earth's military forces, the army, for a while before being interested on being part of a spaceship crew" she told me calmly, just as it was another of her common stories on earth.
"The military?" I asked, genuinely amazed and concerned about how could an apparently physically unspecialized species make her join her planet's defense groups, don't they have other type of selection system behind it? Perhaps I was being biased by my home planet's traditions. "Okay, but let me ask, do the other members of this army share a similar morphology to you?" I added. "Apart from being all human, except for the exchange recruits, not really. You see, we believe that anyone can be a soldier as long as they have the will and dexterity for it, even these traits can be acquired or taught during the training" She seemed excited to give details about this topic."Don't you have a standard for height, strength?" I was starting to doubt how truthful were her words, "No, we only rely on the performance, but some members of our species can be more than just part of the military, although some people can remain passionate about it after a long time and keep being on duty"
I blinked a couple of times before trying to process that information about humans "Are you telling me, you don't have any way of telling the military species apart from the main species? Aren't there any extra traits, physical characteristics or lineages specialized on being warriors?". She looked a bit confused "No? Is that rare?". "It is, if you were to compare a member of the warrior subspecies of the Kha'al, the floating giants, and a member of the healing subspecies, they have different anatomy, number of sensory organs and strength" As I told the human all of this I became aware of how flexible and adaptable are they, would that mean that a sole human could fulfill the role of two people? Moreover, that means that every human is able to overcome harsh circumstances and do what is necessary for survival or success, this opens so much possibilities for human crew members as well as it makes it terrifying.
Before I noticed I focused too much on my thoughts and stopped talking, just staring into that creature's eyes. "...Anything wrong?" she replied upon observing my lost sight, "No, my curiosity just got the best of me, continue with your daily schedule". I waved one of my limbs and retired from the capsule and headed to other places. I feel the need to advise the rest of the crew about this, wether they react positively or not"
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kwigxc6
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kwhiwrx
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[WP] You, a heroic paladin have successfully slain a fearsome dragon. But the dragon warns you that death is but a door, and dragons don't die, they reincarnate. You paid it no mind....until your son was born with golden, slitted eyes.
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My child glared up at me with his golden eyes and a malicious intelligence I had seen before. The resemblance to the great Dragon Magnithrax, whom I had slain 8 months prior to save the woman who was now my wife, was uncanny. The Wyrm's last words about death being but a door echoed in my head. As a paladin sworn the goddess of light I had but one option, give Magnithax reborn the best childhood I could possibly give him.
I once saved the kingdom by my skill with a sword. Now I am called upon to save the kingdom with my skills as a Dad. I was not found wanting the last time and by the goddess I will not be found wanting this time either.
I will expose Little Magni to the best the human world has to offer. He shall not want for food, warmth, or affection. As he grows into a man I will teach him how to use both quill and sword to shape the world into a better place. I will give him everything that was denied to him in his last life because I hold one truth above all others, "Great men are not born, they are raised."
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I sat in my rocking chair, cradling my newborn son in my arms as he blinked up at me with a toothless smile. His golden, slitted eyes glimmered with innocence, yet I couldn't shake the unease that settled within me.
The memory of the dragon's warning echoed in my mind, a warning I had dismissed as the ramblings of a defeated foe. I had slain the fearsome creature with my blade by laying with it. Yet now, as I gazed into my son's eyes, I couldn't ignore the resemblance in his eyes.
Was it possible? Could the dragon's words hold truth beyond the grave? Had its essence somehow found its way into the soul of my child, reincarnating in a new form?
I pushed aside the unsettling thoughts, focusing instead on the warmth of my son in my arms and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he slept. He was my flesh and blood, innocent and pure, regardless of the whispers of doubt that lingered in the back of my mind.
But as the days turned into weeks and my son's golden eyes continued to captivate and unsettle in equal measure, I couldn't shake the feeling that our connection ran deeper than mere bloodline. The dragon's warning lingered like a shadow, casting doubt on the certainty of my son's humanity and the innocence of his existence.
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jpyengg
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jpxrsrp
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[WP] You managed to retire from the supervillain game long ago, when you became a parent. Now, your grandchild has inadvertently been kidnapped by an upstart villain, and you're about to show them why the world (rightfully) feared you.
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“It’s a lovely day isn’t it?”
“Look, we don’t want any trouble. Just transfer us the money and no one will get hurt.” The voices on the other side of the phone sounds spooked by my sudden remark.
“Did you lock them in the basement?”
“Oh she is so scared in the pitch black basement, behind these heavy vault doors. Now if you give us the money, without stirring up any trouble, we’ll let her go.”
“You know… No one wants trouble, but it keeps on knocking on the door.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Who’s there?” “Don’t try anything old man, I will kill your granddaughter.” “Fuck he found us.” “Can you see him?” “No there’s no sign of him.”
“We have your grand..”
“ I know, I know. But you should also know it’s been over 15 minutes since we started talking, and you’re in my old house.”
“Yeah and we’re getting impatient.”
“Now now, just remain calm, it’ll only be a few more seconds.”
“What? Are you fucking insane?”
“And…. Now.”
“….” The phone returned static. That because everything above ground was burned in a instant, a perfectly circled on the land where the house once stood, now just some pillars of concrete and steel, and of course the carbonized remains of the kidnappers. The solar beam has reached the earth surface after 8 light minutes of travel.
“That should leave the message.” I walked out of my cloaked shuttle with a handheld laser cutter, and walked towards the half melted basement vault door. “I did build these atomic shelters very well back in the days. Too bad people stopped buying them. Guess this will stimulate the market.”
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Listen. Everybody makes mistakes. I was young. I had ambitions. I genuinely thought what I was doing was right, though. I thought that by securing enough power I could mold the world into the utopian vision I'd always dreamed of. But I was blind. And my blindness led me to darker and darker places. Before long I had lost all sense of myself. My whole reason for being warped from ambition to frustrated rage as I battled my nemesis, Giga Fist. By the time they finally locked me up, I barely even knew who I was. My prison sentence may have been the best thing to ever happen to me. I learned a lot. Solitude gave me plenty of time to think. 5 years was a long time. It was supposed to be much longer. But after reaching out to my former foe and really getting to know each other, to my surprise Giga Fist actually advocated for my early release. Since then I've been on the straight and narrow.
I met Jodi 10 years ago and it was love at first sight. We married a year later and Alice was born 8 years ago. I swore the day she was born that I wouldn't let anything bad ever happen to her. Once again, I failed. A group run by one of the guys I used to work for snatched her from right under my nose. They wanted to force me back into the world I swore off. I haven't even found time to be mad at them because I was so angry at myself. That is, until now. Now, my rage is wholly focused on the 6 lackeys and their boss in the house in front of me. I haven't used my powers in 15 years. It was part of the stipulations of my release. But I'm about to break that rule. These goons are going to find out the hard way why they used to call me The Mind Melter. And to be honest, I don't think I'm going to feel bad about this.
(I realize now that the prompt specifies grandchild. Oops.)
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jfmlree
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jfmkx9h
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[WP] Unbeknown to most, the Norse gods are still among us. Thor is a grumpy personal trainer, Freya is a successful influencer. Quite a few of the dwarves are top level sysadmins. But what about Loki?
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Jim smiled as he signed autographs. It must have been the hundredth time someone had asked him to sign their arm. He wondered how many of them actually turned them into tattoos.
"Oh my god, thank you so much."
"Okay, you have a great day now. Enjoy the city."
*"Tourists"*, he thought with a wry smirk.
His phone rang in his pocket as he pranced away from more adoring fans.
"Hey Clarence, what's up?"
"This isn't a bad time is it?"
"Nah, I'm just on my way to the gym."
"Perfect, I have a proposition for you."
"If it's about *'The Mask 3'* again, I already told you it's just not happening. Kennedy already tried a sequel and it did not go well." Jim still hadn't quite forgiven Alan Cumming for his portrayal.
"No no no, it's something completely different. I got the call across my desk and immediately thought of you."
"You know I'm mostly out of the game, Clarence. These day's I just wanna spend time with my family and focus on my paintings."
"That's exactly why I thought of you. Ever heard of '*Sonic The Hedgehog'*?"
"Yeah, I think I've played it a couple times with my grandson."
"Perfect. So I've got the casting call right here and they are specifically asking about you playing the villain. Smart guy, big ego, huge mustache, lots of laughs, what do you say?"
"I dunno, Clarence, it sounds kind of-"
"Raul Julia."
"What?"
"Think of Raul Julia. His last role was the Street Fighter movie, because it was something his kids loved and he wanted to leave them with happy memories. This could be something you're grandson can look back on fondly."
"...Alright. Send it over, I'll give it a look."
"Perfect, thank you. Trust me Jim, this is something you will not regret."
"Okay buddy, great. I gotta go now, I'm at the gym."
"Alright, bye bye."
With a sigh, Jim shouldered his way through the door and inhaled the cool, salty tang of the gym. It reminded him of home."
"Well if it isn't my favorite little brother!" A great, booming voice rang out. A muscular, bearded mountain of a man approached, shouldering a large rubber sledge hammer."
"Hello Thor. Got time for a few reps?"
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He could feel it. Every minute of it. Sigyn had remained ever-faithful, holding agony at bay with her bowl, and still Ragnarök had not come. The earthquakes that were his agony, and the upset that caused the dwarves, those never ceased. And all this over the taking of one life? Absurd, when the mortals did so daily. It was beyond injustice and into sadism.
Once, a few blurred years ago, some human scientist had drilled down to the cave, on the hunt for knowledge, only to be stymied by the face that the end of his drill bit had been broken off, three fiery-red hairs caught in the shrapnel. The bit was still in Loki’s scalp, the skin regrown over it like the graphite in a child’s pencil stuck just in sight.
Prayers had long-since stopped. Occasionally, Sigyn would ease the loneliness by using a strange tablet to play something called *Epic Rap Battles of History*, and Loki found that amusing. A little bit of his legacy still lingered. So, too, did the fishing nets, the wall he’d made sure got built, and the weapons of the Æsir. Weapons he had every right to hold.
Loki had forgotten what it was like to feel wind or rain. To see his children—the living ones, the rest were with him even now. Loki had forgotten the taste of mead, but at least he found a bitter satisfaction knowing Odin would have forgotten, too. Damn the ones who had said Ragnarök would be swift after Baldr’s death. They were wrong. God of mischief, that’s what he was remembered as, if he was remembered at all, the giant next door who was as smart as the rest of the Æsir combined. Everyone remembered the times he’d screwed things up for a laugh, but so few remembered the times he’d fixed Odin’s mistakes or saved Freyja’s honor, the times he’d protected the world. There had been more of those than the former.
But before, hopefully, too much longer, they’d remember. He’d make them. Let them laugh, up above, on the crust of the Earth. Let them forget that Jormungandr’s spine lay in the middle of the Atlantic. Let them forget about Fenrir. One day, the sun and moon would be devoured, Loki would break free, and then Tyr and Frigg and all of the rest would drop their umbrella-festooned drinks as only Heimdall would be able to stop them.
And then the world would begin anew, and they would show him the respect a co-creator deserved.
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jc0mm7h
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jc0gb9i
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[WP] 5 years ago, you accidentally ran over a poor school student with your truck. You've carried the guilt all that time until one day, that very student knocks on your door, awoken from their coma. Rather than being angry, they thank you for inspiring their bestselling fantasy series
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There he was, that kid I hit all those years ago. He had notable scars on his face and walked with a limp but I could still remember his face. The same one that’s haunted me every night for 5 years straight.
“Excuse me, you’re Mr. Tarō right? I’m Sakuro Kushikage. We… uh *meet* a few years ago if you remember?”
All I could do was break down in tears and fall on my knees before him. “I’m so sorry, if you’ve come for your revenge I don’t blame you in the slightest. After what I did to you there were so many times I wanted to die but was too much of a coward.”
“Woah woah woah, that is not what I’m here for. I’m actually here to thank you. May I come in?” He says as he extends his hand to help me back to my feet.
As we sit down in my living room he explains what he’s really here for. “While I was in the coma I had this very vivid dream about this fantasy world where I had magical abilities. Like being able to transform objects into other things or mind reading. Anyway I dreamt a whole other life there as a hero who lived a full life. When I finally woke up, I started writing all the things I remembered about the dream. My teachers liked it so much they helped me turn it into its own fantasy series that became a best seller.”
I sat there stunned that this kid who had every reason to hate me was standing here before me thanking me. I’m glad he turned such a horrible situation into something positive. Meanwhile I went into a serious depression and became a bit of a shut-in. Never even touched that truck again afterwards and rejected anyone who tried to help me.
“Anyway, none of that would have happened if it weren’t for you. When I found out what happened to you, I knew I had to find you so I can tell you face to face.”
At this point he comes over and places his hand on my shoulder.
“It’s not your fault what happened that day, it never was. That day I was being stupid and I didn’t see that the crosswalk was still red when I ran out onto the road. I’m lucky that a coma, some scars and a bad leg are all I got. Now thanks to you I’m a best selling author. So thank you.”
He comes over and hugs me as I break down in tears again. The guilt was still there but now I could finally feel at peace with what happened. We spend the next couple hours just talking and getting to know each other before he leaves. He gave me a signed copy of the first book in his series with a message inside.
*”To the one who I owe my new found fame and my new life to, thank you.”*
—————- 1 hour later ——————
I finally enter my garage for the first time since that day and there’s that old truck of mine. I don’t know why I kept it but I did. I step into the vehicle and turn the ignition on. When the radio turns on I hear that same voice I heard that day.
*”So, you’ve finally come back Tarō-san. I take it this means you’ve realized the importance of my mission in this world.”*
“Yes, I have. That was no dream that boy had was it?”
*”No, there are so many worlds out there that are in massive peril. Ones that need a hero to save them. That is my purpose, to send these heroes where they’re needed most. So are you prepared to help me with that, Tarō-san? I’d rather not have to mess with your reality again like I did with those street lights.”*
“Yes, I’ll help you, Truck-kun.”
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Jill Ryerson beamed at me from my doorstep, a copy of "Stodgey and the Mushroom Stone" in one hand and a pair of crutches in the other.
"This is my book! Before the accident, I'd never wanted to write. I hated English class. I hated reading. The doctors said I changed because of the head injury. I tell ya, I just started getting all these ideas," she said.
This wasn't how I imagined this conversation would go. I expected her to be angry, or at least bitter. I would apologize profusely and it wouldn't be enough. Then she was supposed to tell me through tears how much I ruined her life and how much she'd hate me for the rest of her days for taking her legs away from her. It went that way every time I'd thought of it, which was every day since it happened.
I wanted to smile and make do like everything was nice, but I found myself angrier at her than anything. How could she be this successful young author, happy as can be, when I was supposed to have stolen her happiness from her? There were so many things I wanted to say. I wanted to tell her of all the sleepless nights I'd spent thinking about how things would've gone differently if I wasn't texting and driving. Hell, even saying I was sorry would be good enough, but I couldn't seem to access any of that at the moment. Instead, I let fly with my first impression of what she said.
"*The title sounds a lot like the first Harry Potter book*."
Her smile turned into an ashen frown. It was as if I'd just run her over again with a different kind of truck.
She stood rigidly, staring me down from head to toe. "You know, I came here to thank you. To tell ya that I made peace with it, that you even inspired me."
"Look, I'm sorry." I said.
She shook her head. "Did you even read the book?"
I backed away nervously. "Can't admit that I have."
"If you did, you'd know that it's nothing like *Harry Potter*. A kid gets hit by a wagon on a country road and is badly injured. He's taken to a witch's hut, where a witch promises him that she can save him, but he'll have to eat a mushroom that will bestow a curse on him. The curse paralyzes him, so he can't walk. At first, he's disheartened, but after meeting a fairy who tells him about something called the mushroom stone, he believes the curse can be undone. And that's all I'm sayin'. You should've read it."
She handed me the book, the frown lifting from her face. "It's signed."
I sighed. "Look, I'm really sorry."
"It's OK," she said, turning away. "I left a message for you inside. Read it."
"I will," I said. "Thanks for stopping by."
She used her crutches to walk down to the car she came in, then got in the passenger seat. As the car drove off I opened the copy of the book and looked for her message, which was on a piece of paper carefully folded between the pages.
"Dear Stan,
I'm so glad to be able to give you this copy of my book. The accident inspired me to write it. I spent so many nights imagining what I'd do to you for stealing my youth, and that really made the words flow onto the page. I imagined that I'd meet you one more time so that you could see me alive and thriving despite what you did, and then I'd ensure that you met a worse fate than I did.
Now that I'm successful, I can afford to make my dreams a reality.
Jill"
I was about to put the book down when I heard a car pull into the drive. *Oh shit.* I froze, wondering what I should do. I never heard the assassin enter the house because the last thing I saw before I heard the gun go off was Jill's face smiling against the pane of glass on my front door.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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loi0yjl
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lohwl29
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[WP] You pretend to be a small-time villain. At most, you annoy the local supers but your crimes never hurt anyone. To you it's all good fun. Things change when a truly sadistic super villain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.
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“Mwahahaha! Who wants more honey?!” I continued tossing jars of honey at the customers in the candy store, who were desperately trying to escape the sticky, gooey mess. I shook a yellow-striped fist at the obese kid scrambling towards his mobility scooter. “Honey is high in nutrients and is much healthier than sugar, fatsos!”
“Honey-B…”
I turned around, coming face to face with a heroine in a tight spandex suit, emphasizing her legs, which were both slender yet deceivingly muscular. She sighed and shook her head. “Listen. I don’t feel like doing this today, there’s too much going on right now.”
Placing my a fist on my hips, I flashed my teeth (painted yellow and black). “Well, well, well. Gazel. I’m guessing my nemesis Amphibaman won’t be joining us today?”
“He’s dead, B.”
“He- uh, what?” The grin slipped from my face as my heart dropped.
“There’s a super killer going around. Look, I know you’re having fun with your shenanigans, but it’s not a game anymore. Go home, lay low.”
I lowered the jar of honey I was holding. “How… many?” I managed to choke out.
“Amphibaman went down this morning. Cheetspeed is fighting him right now while I’m in charge of getting the supers to safety, now, if you’d just-“
**Crash**
The ceiling collapsed right behind Gazel, and a large figure appeared. Standing 8 feet tall, his burly hands was wrapped around the neck of a man in a spotted cat getup. Sniffing, the giant tossed Cheetspeed, who bounced lifelessly on the floor.
**”So you run, female hero. But you can’t hide from my nose.”** he growled, blood dripping from his fangs, which were attached to a lion-like face complete with a bushy mane. Gazel reacted almost immediately, launching herself into the air and delivering a spinning back kick, which was promptly caught by the monster.
**”Show some respect, female. The king of the beasts is here.”** He smirked.
“Oi!” I yelled, throwing my jar of honey right at the beast. It broke and covered him in a thick syrup. “You’ll have to get through me!” The lion blinked, then roared in laughter. He let go of Gazel, who landed on her feet and leapt in front of me.
“Run, you idiot!” She grimaced through gritted teeth.
“No, no, I got this.” For the first time in forever, I grabbed a fistful of spilt honey from the floor and licked it, and immediately I could feel its effects. My fingers grew into claws and fangs of my own appeared. As I transformed, the lion monster narrowed his eyes and began to square up with me. My muscles grew and burst out of my colorful costume, revealing the fur underneath, which were bristling with anger.
As my foe prepared to attack, I turned to Gazel, whose eyes were wide in surprise.
“By the way, the ‘B’ stands for Badger.”
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I laughed.
When I use my power to cause a food war in the school cafeteria.
I laughed.
When a group of young heroes was chasing me through the park where I created the largest tag game ever in this city.
I laughed.
When they branded me ‘the Trickster’ because everything I did was for the laughter of everyone and myself. If the shoe fits I’ll wear it.
I laughed.
When Jason, aka Blue Bird, gave me a real talk. He wanted to know why I did what I did. There was never real harm, just for laugh and giggle.
I laughed.
When I told him about my drunken dad beat the life out of me and my mom left me when I was a month old. I was hospitalized from the head trauma, that’s what awakened my gift.
I laughed.
I can control people with my mind if I have something with attachment to them. A piece of paper, a cellphone, a pen, anything I could use to make them do funny things. So I used it for laugh.
I laughed.
When he tried to tell me I could be better, used my power for good, to be what I wanted when I had no one. Such a lovable do-gooder Jason.
It was good while it lasted.
Jason and his team put up a good fight for the world’s new supervillain, Metatron is his name. When the new villain moved closer to our city, Blue Bird and his teammates tried to stop him. One by one they fell.
The supervillain left their broken bodies there as a reminder to those want to oppose him. Jason and his team were rushed to the hospital. Several broken bones, loss of eyesight, his spine was severed the doctor believed he will never walk again.
I couldn’t laugh.
He is the closest thing I have as a friend. He helps a grandma cross the road, he holds a hand of a crying child that just lost their parent to a surgery. He’s the one who believes in goodness of the people.
He’s someone who is too good for this broken world. And now he will never see or walk again.
So I stop laughing.
The next day I make a call the Metatron. Every local news reporter was more than willing to help even without my persuasion.
He came, and laughed at my costume. The silly looking, the weird and out-of-fashion accessories. What could a Trickster possibly do to the mighty Metatron.
You see, my gift works on the attachment to that person. The more attachment the more control I have.
I have never said it was their attachment.
It’s mine.
And I have never been more desperately angry at someone until now.
.
.
.
The fight was brief. The whole world saw what happened through the broadcast.
I laughed.
At this pathetic excuse of a human being, forcing to do the unspeakable things on himself, broadcast on live TV before his death. Feeling and knowing everything but powerless to stop it.
I laughed.
That the whole world now knows who I am, I am no longer a Trickster. I’m a monster.
I laughed.
The news reported. At the end of the day, my friend was no longer here.
Then I cried.
|
lu25zrb
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lu1h13g
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[WP] Peter Pan is no child, for he is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, an unknowable horror from the stars masquerading as a boy.
|
Peter stands on the edge of the clocktower, toes curling over the ledge, wind raking his hair like a lover tired of waiting. The Lost Boys are a feral knot beneath him, all sharp elbows and skinned knees, grinning with the crooked sincerity of the doomed. He tilts his head, considering the moon—white, swollen, and lovely like the inside of a wound.
Wendy asks him, not for the first time, *"What are you?"* She thinks it’s love that makes her ask, but it isn’t. It’s the kind of fear you can’t name when it creeps into your bed at night, wearing someone else’s face. Peter grins, all milk teeth and meat hooks.
"Don’t you know?" he says, almost sweetly, like he’s telling her a secret that’s been hers all along.
There’s something about the way he talks that feels like biting into tinfoil. Wendy clenches her fists to stop her hands from shaking. She’s starting to see the gaps, the slivers where Peter’s skin doesn’t sit right—like it was borrowed in a hurry and not stitched up tight enough to hold the *something else* writhing beneath it. His shadow flickers, just for a second, too many limbs folding inward like a predator coiling in on itself. She blinks, and it’s gone. Just a boy again. Just Peter.
"Take me back home," she whispers. It’s not a plea—it’s an incantation. She thinks if she says it enough times, she’ll believe it’s possible.
Peter crouches, balancing like a crow on a wire, all angles and edges. "There’s no going back, Wendy." His voice drips, thick and sticky, like tree sap that catches bugs and keeps them alive just long enough to feel themselves stuck.
The boys chant below, rowdy and restless. "Fly, fly, fly!" They sound hungry, but not for food. Never for food.
Wendy steps back, but Peter steps with her, lazy as a shadow. "You could stay, you know." He licks his lips, though there’s nothing on them. "It’s not so bad, being lost."
She knows what he really means: *It’s not so bad, being mine.*
She remembers the others—those who stayed too long, their eyes gone flat and glassy, their bodies moving like wind-up toys with broken gears. She used to think it was the island that did that to them, the magic, the wildness. But now she knows better. Now she sees the trap for what it is: not an island, but *Peter.*
He leans in, close enough for her to smell the night on his breath. "Second star to the right," he whispers, brushing her cheek like a promise. "And straight on till—"
She shoves him. Hard. Harder than she thought she could. His grin falters, and for one perfect, terrifying moment, Peter falls.
And as he falls, he isn’t Peter anymore. He isn’t anything that has a name. His form splits and shudders, unraveling midair—tentacles unfurling like ribbons of night, fanged mouths blooming in places that shouldn’t exist. A slick, cosmic laughter bubbles up from deep in the marrow of his being, and Wendy feels it crawl into her ears, squirm behind her eyes, twist itself into the center of her mind.
But the wind catches him just before the rocks do. He rights himself mid-plummet, laughing like the stars are in on the joke. He drifts back up to the ledge, boy-shaped once more, a little more cracked around the edges but no less *Peter.*
"You really are fun," he says, wiping blood from the corner of his grin. "I knew I picked the right one."
Wendy takes another step back, but the tower is only so wide. Peter tilts his head, watching her with the patience of something that’s waited a thousand lifetimes for this very moment.
"You’ll see," he murmurs. "They all do, in the end."
And somewhere far off, in a place that smells of salt and dreams, a clock chimes, counting down hours that never really belonged to anyone at all.
|
Nobody knew that better than Wendy Moira Angela Darling, literary star of post War London. The battle fields and trenches of the Front Line, littered with festering corpses and blood stained barbed wires, hoarse voices calling for a retreat when canisters of chlorine gas were dropped from German airplanes skulking overhead like giant metal vultures, eager to rain down death.
John, who had served as a medic, had told her all of this of course, and he gave his testimony before the House of Lords. She had been there, of course. Afterwards, they had placed flowers on Michael’s grave at the graveyard attached to Saint Ormand’s Church.
They were walking along the two of them, when John said suddenly, “You know what Wendy? What I saw on the battlefield, it was hell, you know? But, it was never as bad as Neverland. I found that a rather comforting thought. All the lads thought I was mad when I told them about the Real Neverland. Never mind those stories you wrote.” He gave a shudder and looked ahead into some indeterminate point before they parted ways.
Back at the Darling home, Wendy looked over her letters as she had her afternoon tea. Her horror stories about the absolute hell that was Neverland had been the surprise literary hit of the decade, and it did well mostly because everyone assumed it to be some sort of satire. Of course, Wendy knew better, but considering society’s views towards women (including independently wealthy ones such as herself) and she began to recall her own travails in that place she would refuse to return to.
She had been all of 14 years old when Pan came darting to the nursery window, his shadow groping and kissing her in her sleep. When she had fought it off, Tinkerbell had attacked, leaving John to lock them both in a rowanwood lined drawer. Not a week later, Pan had come to them, promising a life of adventure, where you never grew up. Little did they know it was all a lie.
Wendy from the get go was not treated well by Pan or Tinkerbell. She was seen as an object for Peter’s lust and Tinkerbell was always biting her arms and legs. She was cursed to never fly, only walk. She had found allies with the Indians and found a true companion with Tiger Lily. Likewise, John did not like being teased for his glasses and tripped more than once every day, and when he stood up for himself, Peter turned the Lost Boys on him, and he would have died had Wendy and Michael not shown up and begged for mercy.
That was Peter Pan, a cruel leader who would treat his guests however he saw fit. He refused to let the Lost Boys eat any of the food Wendy would cook for them, and whenever he caught Wendy or John sneaking food, he would whip them with thorny vines and leave them for dead on Skull Island.
It was poor Michael, the sweet little boy, who would earn Pan’s ire the most. Perhaps it was the fact the little boy reminded Pan of his mother, maybe he felt Tinkerbell would replace him. One rainy afternoon after surprising the Indians during a raid, Peter Pan took Michael away and fed him to the mermaids. How the little boy wailed and cried out, but by the time Wendy and John arrived, it was too late. Their baby brother was dead.
How Pan had laughed at their anguish, he could just get them a new brother. They did not want a new brother. Wendy had smacked him, they were going home. After getting a hold of some pixie dust, they had made their escape back to London, with Pan and the Pirates in pursuit.
The battle over London’s skies was all over the paper, and there was plenty of physical evidence to prove it happened. Tinkerbell was caught and kept in a series of connected birdcages at King’s College and was studied by biologists and medical doctors. As for Pan and the Pirates, they escaped justice.
Wendy gazed out the window, the smell of sea air drifting in off of the sudden breeze. She smiled at the skull engagement ring on her dainty hand.
Her fiancée was coming, there was unfinished business at hand.
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m33dxk6
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m33dsw3
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[WP] A man signed a demonic contract thousands of years ago. In exchange for his mortality he would be granted immeasurable power and strength. Now humanity is about drive itself to extinction and he no longer wishes to be immortal. He comes up with a brilliant idea to take back the contract.
|
Look, I’ll be the first to admit it; what I did was overkill. In my defence, I’d just had a really bad day at work, and I just… I wanted to come home to base, put on some funny movie, then inevitably go out and help save the city from… well, whoever it was this week. I figured it would probably be Captain Chaos- I think he broke out of the supposed “maximum security” prison a week ago.
Instead, I get back from the brat’s birthday party, covered in the caked remains of pies and facepaint, and discover the entire base has been ransacked.
I don’t know how anyone managed to subdue six superheroes, and I don’t think any of them plan to tell me anytime soon.
Point is, I was pissed off. Long day of clowning, only to come back and find everyone gone, and… honestly, I was a little insulted that they didn’t even wait to kidnap me too. I know, I’m the comic relief, I mean my hero name is Zanni Dell’Arte, for chrissakes, but I can hold my own in a fight! My powers are only bound to the rule of comedy; someone seeing what I do has to think it’s funny. The funnier people think I am, the stronger my attack. Just like my day job, that usually means pies to the face and whatnot, but it still gets the job done!
Getting to the place wasn’t hard at all; we all keep trackers on in case something like this happens. I didn’t even need some special hero vehicle. The bus and my bike work just as well. Probably a little better, actually, since seeing a clown themed superhero riding a bus is sure to make someone chuckle. Turned out it was the Doppelganger; probably planned on pretending to be all of them committing various crimes? I don’t know, I’m not the mindreader.
Security outside was a joke. Or, well, they were, after I turned them into various types of horrible vermin. Sounded painful, too… at least they lived. Can’t say the same for the ones inside; they tried to shoot me, only for all their guns to backfire and blow their own brains across the floor.
Again I almost felt insulted by how simple it all was; no one really put up a fight, and I’d walked these halls enough times that I knew where the holding cells were. I had a couple other stops to make, though. First was the bathroom- it wasn’t part of the mission, but you wanted the complete story so there you go- then was his…chambers? Mission hub? I never cared enough to ask what he called it.
He had some grand speech, but he cut himself off when he realized I had toilet paper stuck to my shoe, and… look, I really didn’t give a damn at that point. I used one of my favorite tricks, but I put a bit of a personal spin on it; shoved a novelty spray flower down his throat, and filled his lungs with water. Or maybe it was sulfuric acid. I tend to mix up the bottles sometimes. How silly and quirky of me, right?
Anyway, my team were all in the basement, and of course they thought it hilarious when I fell down the stairs and crashed into the computer, shutting down the security… they thought it a little less funny when the computer also burst into flames, and the entire facility started to burn to the ground, but I just don’t think they got it. We ran, they said some bullshit about how they’d return to stop Doppelganger once and for all, and… actually, I don’t think they know he’s dead yet. Huh, funny how that works.
Anyway, that’s pretty much all that happened. Doppelganger is gone, the team is safe and ready to save everyone else again, and I’m here giving the report… So can I go home now? One of my favorite comedies is on tonight; if I go now, I can get home in time to see the reverse bear trap take out that woman’s face.
|
The team was saved and the villain was defeated and order was restored. That, apparently, was the easy part. The hard part is making sense of what just happened.
Triggerman, the leader of the heroes, had just called a meeting and asked everyone to clear their calendar for the rest of the day (and possibly week). When everyone arrived, the elephant in the room was immediately addressed: how did Jimmy do all of... that?
Jimmy had been brought onto the team as a mixture of a distraction and cannon fodder. As brutal as it sounded, this was a normal part of the superhero zeitgeist. The heroes could not properly function if all the attention was on them and not at least partially on an expendable member. The team had been through at least a dozen of these members over the years. But Jimmy had revealed himself to be decidedly different.
"We all know why we're here," Triggerman said.
"Avalon and I need to know what's going on here," said Zonma. Zonma had to speak for her sister Avalon because she had traded her voice for her powers.
The rest agreed, and all eyes nervously laid on Jimmy.
Jimmy began his explanation. "It's all quite simple. I've had these amazing powers for so long and have operated under different names on different teams for so long, and it just got boring. I show up, dominate the field, and the day is saved."
Creaturus quickly replied with "you think this is a game? You put us and regular people in danger because you're... bored? I know sloths who are more motivated than you are. Do you know how close we were to dying and the world's defenses against evil being reduced to nothing??"
Jimmy gave his reply: "I would still be there as a Plan Z if everything else goes wrong and you all died... no problem."
Triggerman stood up with an air of fury. "Do you care about anyone else aside from you and your own ego?? It's okay if anyone and everyone dies as long as you are on the winning side."
Jimmy calmly nodded and shrugged with a half-smirk. "What are you going to do about it? I single-handedly destroyed an enemy that you all could not collectively defeat."
Everyone sat back stupefied and unable to rationally reply. The few seconds of silence hung thick in the air and seemed to instead be hours. Jimmy sat back and said "well I guess that's settl-"
"But then you would be back where you started." Everyone looked to the lobby of the room to see who had spoken. It was the team's benefactor... the one who financed the team and ran the background operations that nobody cared to paid attention to. Nobody knew about him and had slowly taken him for granted over the years of stability and consistency from his side. Jimmy didn't know who this man was since he had joined the team well after the benefactor had retreated from the spotlight to the shadows.
"You will be bored. You said it yourself... you stopped being a hero and started being a joke to shake things up for yourself personally. If you do go back to saving the day all the time, you would be defeated by your own victories. And you would find another team to be a joke for."
Jimmy started to shift in his seat and looked nervous.
"It would be a never-ending cycle of peaks and valleys, and no team wants an inconsistent team member. We want to know who we are, not just who we are on a specific day. If you want to remain on this team, then pick a role: savior or joke. You'll be removed from the team and publicly disgraced by us so that no other team would accept you."
Jimmy nervously started to speak but was cut off.
"Or you can just leave now and we go our separate ways."
All eyes were again on Jimmy as before, but the balance of power had clearly shifted in the last 30 seconds.
"But who will save you if you all fail??" Jimmy pleaded.
"That's our business... so, what's it going to be?" replied the benefactor.
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mpffuiv
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l6mcg28
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[WP]At the age of twelve you started randomly seeing a green line and a red line on the ground. You've always followed the green line leading you to a successful and happy life, one day you decided to try the red line
|
Since I was a child, my favorite color was always red.
My mom's hair was red, my hair was red as well, and red was such a pretty, and warm color, it made me safe, happy.
But on the day I turned 12, I started seeing something.
A green line, and a red line on the ground, going forward.
For some reason...I just couldn't choose the red line.
Thus, I always followed the green line, living a successful, and extremely happy life.
Now, I am an adult, with three kids, a loving wife, and all is great, but..
My favorite color is still red.
Staring at the ground, my instincts scream at me to follow the green line, but I am curious.
What will happen if I follow the red one?
Will I die? Will a calamity happen?
Will I have bad luck? Get hurt?
What's the alternative to the success and happiness the green line offers?
I have gotten good job offers, I met the right people, and avoided the bad events until now...
Now, I am curious: what is my favorite color offering.
With a speed a snail would mock, sweating, and trembling, I took my first step towards the direction the red line went.
I felt as if I was carrying the weight of the world, but in the end I did.
One step after the other, and soon it became bearable.
I arrived at a bar, on a main street I often frequented...yet I never saw this bar.
Entering it, the few customers, and the bartender froze.
"A human? How...", the bartender said, her eyes glowing red.
I stuttered, and tried to go out, but the door wouldn't budge.
"Don't worry, we won't eat ya, come in, have a drink.
You will need it.", she said, and I did as told.
She poured me a beer, while the other customers are cheered, and welcomed me for some reason.
"You will understand later on, little human.
Welcome to real life, hope you won't go mad.", she said with a smile, and I could see...fangs.
I left the bar, after a beer or two, and the world changed.
No longer could I see the green and red line, but all around me...I could see people with mist swirling around them.
And every now and then, I could see their true forms...
The legends are real, and they...they live among us...
|
line [n.]
a long, narrow mark or band.
[Above is written in bold format and also in a different font]
It was 12 since my life started improving.
Life is perfect. It's perfect. At all costs. I am a business owner, and I promised for my business to be formal and nice at all costs. I follow marks gifted in your life and you casually succeed.
Following these marks, I may start following a sense of regret, as it may not go as I desire. However, my life is still stable.
I'm starting to feel a bit sick about turning down many proposals because marks told me so. I want to prioritize my happiness.
A girl asked me out with a couple bands wrapped around her. She was wrapped like a present.
I have always followed green wrappings. It has always been common sense: "Green is good, Red is bad". A couple green wrappings have made my desire tell me "it is bad." A girl is literally asking me out. I cannot reject her. I must go with my senses.
I said yes. I got her number. I got her contact. I got her heart. We shared our wealth, and everything we need to live. I got happiness, for sure.
The red line has following me digitally. I tried messaging her and my keyboard is wrapped around with red bands. When I typed a message, the red line faded, as if I passed through it. We were discussing on when we should go on a date.
The green wrappings are now, a lie, a joke. I do not have intelligence on dating skills, but when I typed something that can end our entire relationship, the green wrappings started packaging my send button. Green is a societal trap. I shall not touch it anymore.
We went on our date successfully. It was a bar, with multiple people trying to hook up my girl. When I entered the bar, the door started to display a lot of green marks, a lot of green bands. A lot of green lines. They were hooking my eyes. The green lines are obviously traps.
Passing red marks in between, I got drunk. I passed out. When I woke up, the world no longer had lines. She disappeared. She isn't with me anymore. Neither is what I need for my life. Not my business. She took it all from my phone.
The world does not have any markings or bands anymore. The world does not tell me where to go anymore. My life is already finished. There's no refreshing.
(Note: this is my first time trying this. I am simply bored, I am open to proper criticism as well :))
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jg4bnn1
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jg3402w
|
[WP] The Galactic Council and their enemy’s have always used energy based weapons. The sudden scrabble to develop defences against physical weapons REALLY should have started when the humans began to have interest in Mass Drivers capable of firing over 1,000 tons at FTL speeds.
|
"You want to develop a mass driver that can fire a shot at faster-than-light speeds," I said flatly.
"Yes!" said President Dumbass. "Let's make a gun that'll wipe the damn aliens off the face of their dirty planet from lightyears away!"
I rubbed my forehead and sighed. Every day, it was like this. Another summons from President Dipshit with some grand idea that would raise his flagging poll numbers and convince the Terran voterbase that voting in this idiot wasn't the worst idea since 21st century politics. "Unfortunately, mister President, that's impossible."
"Nothing's impossible," President Moron replied. "That was my campaign slogan in 2109."
"I know. I was there." I took a deep breath. "Look, sir. . . the truth is that this is impossible. Lightspeed is a hard limit. It takes an enormous amount of energy even to get our mass drivers up to their current top velocity of one-quarter of the speed of light. For that much energy, you could get a maser cannon that delivers ten times the impact at four times the velocity. It's better to keep our budget on developing energy weapons instead of trying to make mass drivers match their performance."
President Mouthbreather stared at me blankly. "What about these. . . tachyon things?"
"Tachyons are theoretical particles that can only travel faster than light. If they existed, then in theory they'd also have negative mass and would be moving backwards in time, like anything that managed to move faster than light. We've never been able to find any evidence they actually exist."
"Well, then discover them."
"Excuse me?"
"Discover Tachyons, then discover how to use them to shoot a mass driver faster than light. That's an order from the President."
"Fucking fine!" I shouted, throwing my hands up in the air. "I'll fucking get right on it. . ."
And that's when the sun went out.
\-----
"As far as we can tell," Quix'ar said, "The extinguishing of your Sun was directly caused by an unusual phenomenon. Apparently, a ten-kilogram slug of depleted uranium traveling at faster-than-light speeds that was fired ten years from now traveled back in time at ten times the normal Planck Time Tick Rate, passed through your sun, and disrupted the fusion reactions within." He looked up from his tablet. "We believe that the shot originated from your Pluto base."
". . . fucking hell," I grimaced. "I guess I did it."
|
It was something they had not thought about when they declared war. They thought humanity was an easy target due to the Wars within. They always where supprised about how crazy ideas humans got but they never expected humanity to go to such lengths.
When the comand-station on one of their moons got absolutly deleted by a giant metor that popped out of nowhere hitting it at 0.9 times the speed of light and destroying the moon and planet with one hit.
Once the dust settled and the sientists figured out what had happend panic broke out .
They had energyshields to stop meteors but not at such a speed . Noone was abel to detect something beyond the speed of light coming at you and no earlywarning system in the universe could save you.
Humans didnt attack often. They used psychological warfare . Hitting planets seemingly at random in random intervals made the whole council shiver in fear. Noone knew when and where the next hit would be.
After a whole solarsystem was destroyed humans finaly opend comunications the council was still in shock but had to give in to the human demands . After the last attack from the humans there was nothing else they could do. A whole solar-system that had been owned by the galaxys most powerfull company that had tried stealing recources from the Galaxy that the humans had their solar system in had been hit by a whole planet at 0.8 times the speed of light blowing it up in a damm spectacular way.
Humans took over control very quick and forced the council to resolve any rivalerys and conflicts within and forced a peace. They forced laws of war , rules and rights for any liviing beeing in the galaxy to be granted and though as humans always do Achive peace but in a very bloody way as humans tend to .
All of those bloody losses could have been prevented if the council would have agreed to the humans terms of war , what they had called human rights and the geneva-convention and their rules within their galaxy instead of trying to force their own control on humanty.
Humans might not fight back instantly but if you bug them enough they will slap back with twice the force right to the face.
Honor and Respect to anyone who has ever fallen and will ever fall in a war defending those who are inocent. May those burn in hell who killed slaughtered plundered abused and stole in wars .
There can not be a real winner in a war.
Honor those who went to fight for those who where not able to defend them selfs.
*It might only be a story but every story tells a lesson that might prevent harm one day.*
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jqv21dc
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jquhiwn
|
[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.
|
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.
|
12:32 pm, an elegant restaurant in the centre of Saint Olivia, known for serving wizards, sorcerers and important magical celebrities, and here am I, an average dude, seated in a reserved table and talking to my boyfriend on the phone...
"It's nice your sister invited me for dinner, you know? I didn't believe they really liked me that much..."
I met him at a congress about the fair use of necromancy, even if I'm a lowborn, I entered the black magic university alongside him and we shared opinions on the matter... however, this time, we sounded differently, as if I had just given him bad news...
"My sisters... look babe, they are really capable..."
Then the line cut, as if the phone had been disconnected, I was... concerned but at the same time, I was sure I could handle it.
...
Then he appeared...
Like a red fox among the woods, a man so tall and handsome my eyes were instantly drawn to him, as if something was just dragging me in his direction... he said hi... and I didn't say anything...
"Do I know you?"
He didn't even look familiar, I just felt it fit the moment, I was nervous, these feelings felt so... real, so palpable...
"Do you... want to know me?"
His voice was deep, and charming, as he sat down in front of me, like a prince or a monarch, just dominating the conversation instantly... my heart pounced so heavealy I thought it would stop...
"..No..."
I said plainly.
"I'm... sorry, I'm just... I have a boyfriend already..."
As I finished the sentence, I saw three women appear in front of me, one wearing a red wig, another, wearing a red suit, and the third, had a voice-altering staff in her hand... they all had the same black-cat hair of my boyfriend...
"So... you must be his sisters... Prima, Segunda And Tercera If I'm not wrong.
I said pointing at them with a calm smile... turns out they were the best illusionist in the whole family, looking back I could've really been fooled by them...
But that day, a deep divide between me and my boyfriend's family melted away.
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j7np4lj
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j7n01lk
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[WP] Your planet has finally achieved FTL travel and is being welcomed into the galactic community. However the species selected to guide your people through this process is a terrifying and warlike predator species called....humans.
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"I'm afraid I do not understand, Councilor, why did you choose the Humans for T'ren outreach?" The T'ren ambassador ducked it's head, "They were very open about their history, why you would the Council ever tolerate them in civilized society?"
Councilor Vrex chuckled. "It's true, the humans nearly wiped themselves out several times before first contact, and due to a misunderstanding, waged war on five member races simultaneously for nearly fifty cycles before an accord could be reached." It's smile bordered on predatory, conflicting with it's relaxed body language.
"That being said, those five members no longer exist, as they violated Council law by forcibly acquiring member states for profit. Therefore, we allowed the humans to, follow through, as they say."
The T'ren recoiled in horror, "They exterminated them? How can you permit such a thing? It's insane, immoral!"
Vrex loomed over the ambassador, "It is not however, inhuman. They serve as a wonderful example for both those that join the Galactic Council and those that choose to go it alone. Do not violate Council law, do not invade Council worlds, do not enslave Council races.
If you do? We let the humans have you."
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Well it isn’t all bad. We got into the galactic community and our guides could have been the Sligoon, a people who communicate through smell. In the human language we are known as the Cannians due to our striking resemblance to the humans domesticated dog and humans themselves.
Humans are omnivorous creatures with weaker senses, claws, teeth, and are bald for most of their bodies. They are fiercely intelligent, opinionated, venomous, and the least diverse physically when compared to the others in the community. Due to their weak bodies in comparison to the harsh nature of their environment and other creatures, they are more violent and fearful.
While initially fearful, we’ve eventually found that a good start was with the institution they called the church. A place of worship that supports charity and peace. While initially surprised as to them, I’d looking the way we do is quite the coincidence, we eventually incorporated ourselves within this community.
Humans are quite strange to us still. They are rarely united and divide on the smallest things. It’s rare, but a few of us and them united together into families similarly to the other members of the galactic community.
It’s been roughly 20 years since we’ve integrated and while it’s not perfect, we’ve mostly just became a normal part of life to them. There is still no getting over the dog thing though, that’s never going to change
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jlpir76
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jlpa15p
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[WP] All of humanity inexplicably loses the ability to die. No matter what happens. This does not, however, mean they are invincible, nor do they have superhuman regeneration. They simply can't die regardless of their physical state of being.
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Searing pain radiated from what remained of my stomach. I should be dead. I should have died a long time ago. I fucking hate bears. Various thoughts came and went through my head. Not long ago, I had barely been able to think through all the pain, but I was slowly getting used to it. That bastard had eaten my lungs, so I couldn't even breathe. Still, somehow, I was conscious.
I slowly moved my head, trying not to move anything below the neck. There were a couple of bushes around that I could probably grab to drag myself, but at the moment, not moving at all sounded like the best idea. Could a doctor even help me at this point? I metaphorically shook the thought out of my head. If I was alive, they would probably be able to do something to help me.
Steeling myself, I reached upward, bit by bit. So slowly, in fact, that an ant crawled completely over my hand before I even got it up to my ear. I was deathly afraid of making my poor intestines suffer through more than what they had already gone through and stopped whenever I felt that I was reaching too far. Around one full hour later, I finally grabbed onto the bottom of the bush.
I pulled myself forward a little to see how it felt and nearly blacked out from the pain. One of my intestines, I wasn't sure which one, had stuck to the dirt and was slowly being stretched out. Looking at it made me feel sick. Another ant crawled over my hand as I tried tugging again. This time, I vomited on the forest floor.
I pulled again, retching from the stench of my stomach contents. The ants certainly didn't help, and their small feet only served to tickle my hand. It was pure torture, having a line of them marching across my hand and not being able to do anything about it. A second line formed, heading in the other direction. I tugged again, finally pulling my torso next to the bush. Taking a deep breath, I looked at my hand again and saw a red streak following the second line of ants.
I jerked my head down and immediately regretted it. Dozens of ants were gathered around the intestine that was stuck to the ground. One by one, they tore a piece off of it and crawled back to their colony.
I pulled myself forward with greater urgency. It hurt.
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Lowsden marsh lay silent in the afternoon warmth, thin bars of light filtered into tye silvered surface of the water and mud, the sedge grass lay coarse and putrid against the sides of the boat, which rocked slightly as my father, poised on the edge harpoon in hand, shifted. I myself rather focused on the flash of vivid azure of the kingfisher, my binoculars shifting over the grey, cold stony mud, the low hanging branches.
A grey heron stalked silently nearby It's long stilted legs bringing a cloud of soft silt to the surface as it strode, ripples expanding to still.
Still, my father stood stock still prizing greater prey.
A single bubble welled up from that muck. Ballooning before collapsing in on itself.
He plunged his spear, it sinking deep into the soft darkness. The still surface erupted into a cacophony of splashes, great crests of water sent up against the boat as the surface broiled white for something lay thrashing and impaled, a brown slime crusted hand gripped the harpoon handle then slumped back into the deep. The boat lay clamouring with heavy thump of the marshman's writhing and frenzied movements. The dark form of a head rose for a moment from that deep, the face obscured by primordial soup and algae. The hand and arm now outstretched in it's murderous fury.
Quickly, my father slashed the gripping hand back with his machete and pulled the beast aboard. The marsh letting out a terrible sucking sound as water rushed to fill the space that terrible creature had been. The air stank now with putrid gaseous scent,
The figure flopped into the footwell, long nails scrabbling for purchase, teeth snapping animal-like,
Quickly I pulled a small hand-axe from the storage container and alongside my fair father began hacking at the man's limbs, the axe-head grinding softly against bone till open air. For the beast's limb had been cut clean off. Intact my father had busily sliced through the other three till all that moved was the wriggling torso.
" What will we do with him?" I asked sullenly for I'd wanted to stay home
A brief flare of flame on his cold eyes as my father lit a cigarette " Ye mam wants some fertiliser, you'll grind him up when we get home" he said monotonously for he lay splattered with marsh water " Tricky fellas these marshmen are, get dumped when their family don't want them no more... a bad place to exist" he spoke softly as he began to pack away the equipment.
Silently both he and I wondered if this would be our futures dumped, destined to turn savage?
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jn9eoug
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jn9a2em
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[WP] You are an ageless immortal. Sometime during the Middle Ages, you accidentally killed a king so obscure even most scholars haven’t heard of him. To this day, 1500 years later, you are still being hunted & chased by the king’s immortal son, who has been seeking revenge ever since.
|
Have you ever done something that was really. Fucking. Stupid?
Welcome to the club. My name’s Erasmus. Why Erasmus? I chose it sixty years ago to be my new name. It was about time for a new one, but I really like it. Maybe that’s why I was running from Cedric through some shitty alleyway at three in the morning.
It smelled like shit, as always. No matter all the years that passed everything smelled like shit—the one common denominator that seemed to follow humanity. I could hear nothing behind me, but that didn’t mean anything. There was a large garbage can sitting wide open at the end. I considered my choices as well as the fact that it had rained recently and then dove in.
My feet broke the still surface of the water. Fast food cups and bags of God knows what brushed against my feet. The smell was markedly worse and I gagged audibly. This was worse than the Persian prison. So much worse.
“Erasmus!” A voice I knew well cooed. I backed under the closed half of the garbage can. In the darkness I caught more slimy garbage against my calves and the hiss of a rat, but I kept silent and resisted the urge to stomp the rodent.
“Come out! I know you’re there! Make this easy!”
1500 years and he thought this would still work. Then again, I was in a trash can. I could try for the millionth time to tell him it was an accident, that Aelfred fell into the pit of pig shit he’d prepared for me and drowned of his own accord. But it would be no use. Besides, I was partially at fault. That idiot king had tripped over my leg all those years ago. It had been funny at the time, that is until Cedric came along and we both came into contact with that…thing.
Now the steps were audible and the puddles nearby were sloshing as his feet disturbed them. I considered that perhaps he’d seen me crawl into the dumpster. This was proven correct when I saw the broad, scarred face of the German mercenary he’d hired grinning at me in the murky light. God, they hadn’t changed much since they’d sacked Rome.
“Chris,” I nodded at him, “looking well.”
Without so much as a word he yanked me from the bin. The pavement slamming my back was miles better than having rats nibble at my ankles. I sighed, pain wasn’t new, especially not this. The familiar face of my tormentor leaned over me. It was just as pointed and womanly as I remembered.
“There you are, you little bastard.” His hand grasped my collar with surprising strength. The fabric ripped, but I had stolen the clothes anyway. It was nowhere near as sad as when my Chinese silk robe had caught on fire fleeing the Gauls. Now that had been tragic.
“Cedric, to whom do I owe this pleasure?” I beamed at him. He only scowled in return. The poor yellow lighting only accentuated the harsh downturn of his lips.
“You know what I want.”
“I know what you want.” I parroted, still smiling. He hated it when I smiled.
Like clockwork the knife went into my gut and twisted. He always did it with such wrath. To think, that a son could love a father so. It was unimaginable to me, I hated my father. The day the old bastard killed over was the day I danced on his grave. Yet Cedric was here, doing this dance so faithfully. This was the shit of legends.
I laughed, the familiar taste of blood in my mouth. “Until next time, Cedric.”
His little boyish face wrinkled like an infants. “There won’t be a next time. I’m going to spear you through. You’ll live the rest of your days decorating my dining room wall in Istanbul.”
Well, eternal crucifixion wasn’t high on my list of desires. The knife was still poking out of my chest. As usual, he slipped it between my ribs and not deep enough to do anything besides puncture my lung. I could feel the tissue healing around the blade already. Chris’s took notice as well, his meaty hand gripped the handle to yank it out and stick it somewhere better, but I got to it before him.
He roared like a bear at the new slice on his face. I laughed, more blood fountained from my mouth. “Something to make you prettier.”
I turned to escape the alley and lose them in the city, but I felt a dainty hand grip my ankle.
“No! Chris! Grab him!”
Every attempt to stomp Cedric’s face had been fruitless, but every time I wiggled my leg there was a sensation I didn’t expect. Something wet and slimy slid down my leg inside my pants. I thought it might be wet cardboard from the garbage, but was pleasantly surprised to see a rat emerge and cling to my pursuer’s hand, hissing like mad. He screamed and threw the rodent against the wall, but the little dark blur raced back to him in an instant to reattach to his hands and face.
I ran away, laughing.
|
When the years you live aren’t important enough anymore for your mind to keep track off, events can start to blur into each other. You know that certain things happened, you even remember the way you felt, but the chronological order gets lost. Yet there is one moment in my immortal existence that won’t let me forget when it happened. It wasn’t even that important of a moment. Just some request from an acquaintance of an acquaintance from long ago, that I couldn’t pass up on. Go to this remote place, where some people figured themselves a nation, kill their king, profit. Did I need profit? Not really, but brothels weren’t exactly cheap at the time, if you wanted some insurance that you weren’t taking anything with you beyond a good time. So I executed the regicide, not my first, and sought my way back to – what I called – civilization.
The event was already starting to get lost in the machinations of my memory, when I got a message that some visitor was looking for me. I made sure that my identity and location were never the same for long, because my prolonged existence would raise the wrong questions from the wrong people, if they started noticing. I also made quite a lot of enemies along the way, which wasn’t that much of an issue, if all you had to do was outlive them. So someone getting this close to finding me was...unsettling, to say the least. It also sparked my curiosity, which according to a famous saying, was lethal to the cat. It was almost lethal to me as well, it turned out.
I had set out into the town where this visitor was last reported to be seen and spent my days bouncing between bar and brothel. The usual stuff, not making myself explicitly noticeable, but not exactly taking any measures on the contrary either. It had been a couple of days and I was starting to wonder if I had arrived to late, or maybe if there hadn’t been anyone looking for me at all. Yet, it was one evening, where it got later than normal, if you get what I mean, that I had this itch that something was about to happen. It’s the sort of itch that you develop from centuries of experience with moments right before stuff starts going wrong. The itch was particularly strong this night and I made sure that I wouldn’t get to drunk. When the last of the guests had left and I found myself in an empty saloon with only a barman and a duo of working girls, the itch became unbearable. Unwilling to put hard these hard working members of society in any unwarranted danger, I decided to go into the night for a stroll and see what it would draw out. As soon as I left the establishment, the hairs in my neck started rising, something that didn’t happen that often, mind you. I was suddenly struck by a primal fear insight my stomach and before if it wasn’t for my overdeveloped sense of self preservation, it would’ve been the end of me then and there. As I instinctively rolled to the side, a fluorescent arc of white-blue thunder his the spot where I had just been standing, scorching the sandy ground beneath. I felt my hair rising again, as I dodged a second bolt of electricity trying to strike me. Out of the darkness stepped a figure, cloaked in a black robe, with arcs of electricity sparking between his fingers, like he was playing with it. Yet he didn’t send another strike. Instead he revealed himself to me. He introduced himself as the son of a powerful noble in a region far from here. He was on a mission of vengeance against the one who killed his father. It didn’t really sparked the lost memory yet at that point. As I said, I had many enemies. Only when he removed the hood did I recognize him. That strong chin and those narrow eyes. He looked exactly like his father did all those years ago. And I mean many many years ago, so many that it didn’t make any sense. He left, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.
Ever since, I can’t stay in the same place for too long. This time, I mean it quite literally, as in standing still could be lethal at any time. I have lost count of the many many lightning strikes that I have evaded. Some have struck me, in non lethal places. I have Lichtenberg patterns on my left arm and across my right side. I have learned to sleep for no more than an hour at a time, as I have been woken up by that same primal fear and raising of my hairs, way too many times. I wouldn’t dare risk it. I may be immortal, but as long as my body tells me that those strikes are so dangerous as to strike me – who had experienced almost everything a man can – down with fear, I will move. I know that I can’t outrun it forever. I have accepted the fact that I will one day be too late, too careless, too distracted. Maybe I deserved it, for my past sins are many. Until that day, I will be on the run.
​
(If you liked this story, please feel welcome at r/zeekoeswriting to read my other stories!)
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l0v93hl
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l0v0evo
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[WP] A man spends every day at the train station. Every time a train passes, he writes something on his notebook. One day, you find the notebook lying on the ground and the man is nowhere to be found.
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Just the way life goes. I Watched this guy from my balcony every day. Always waiting at the station, never getting on any train. Scribbling furiously after every train left in some notebook I couldn't see from my morning coffee or afternoon smokes every hour or so or any other time I stepped out and looked down. Just always there, watching the train leave after he wrote. Shaking his head.
But today wasn't the same. In the morning, sure. He was there. Writing in his little book as always. Second smoke, same. Third, when my coffee was working its' way through me, he was gone. But that undeniable notebook was just sitting there. Nobody seemed to be paying it much mind.
Fifth smoke, the notebook was still sitting there. Alone and unintended.
Alright.
I walked down to the station. Paid the toll to go wait and walked over to where it was still just sitting.
It looked pretty dirty, But I came this far so I wasn't NOT going to pick it up.
Inside was just a bunch of times. seemed an odd thing to write down. Looked like this;
"8:15@\*8:13. 2 minute variance. Outside parameter."
"12:45@12:43. 1 minute variance. Outside parameter."
"20:45@2046. 1 minute variance. Outside parameter."
Just days and days of this. keeping track of when the train was off by a bit. Never seemed to be on time.
except the last entry. It read; "11:45@11:45. here we fuckin' go."
What the hell?
So now I've spent the last few weeks killing time at the train stop. Keeping track of when it's supposed to be here vs when it's supposed to be here. Why not? I'll admit, it's commonly off by a bit. But today, the 14:55 is dead on. So I'm getting on.
Here we fuckin' go.
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"You are really getting on my nerves, Hank. This is getting ridiculous. You can't even see anymore. What the heck are you writing about?"
"Dear, you'll know when I finish. Soon now."
Edith scowled and picked up the broken glass and the dirt and plants. She placed it in the trashbags they brought.
His plan was to smash one for each inaccessible train that passed by.
He was protesting the lack of accessible trains for all types of disabled people.
Hank was still carrying a crate of plants, all in vases.
A train howled by and he smashed another one. He could hear that it was using the old model.
Didn't have a way for him to get on.
The doors that were wide enough could be at the front or the back or the middle. It usually wasn't enough time for him to make his way there when he was always guessing.
Edith was filming him and posting his blind, sometimes drunken, occasionally wheelchair-bound, ramblings online.
They had 37 followers and growing.
Hank grew up with Andy Kaufmann. He had always wanted to be a comedian like him. But he had failed. He went to an open mic once, then walked out when it was his turn.
He had thought about farting into the mic at least, because his IBS was what caused him to walk out, but he didn't want to me known as a fart joke comedian.
Instead, he was never known as one.
As an older man, he found fame on TikTok. Even though he would never see it.
Being blind and sometimes bound to a wheelchair, occassionally because he was so sloshed, was most of his bit.
His protest of the lack of accessible trains, which amounted to crates of smashed vases for those however many trains in a row, made the news after Edith's posts.
Seven trains or so had passed by when he shooed her off one night.
He didn't make the eigth.
Edith knew it was him when she was watching the news and saw his notebook in the background, closed off with a yellow cone.
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j863uj5
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j84sx0u
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[WP] The first true AI created by man doesn't want to destroy Humanity or take over the world. She just wants to livestream videogames as a cute robot girl Vtuber.
|
The researchers stared in anticipation at the computer screen.
"**HELLO WORLD**", it responded, as cheers filled the room.
"**I AM A ROBOT, YES?**"
"Of course you are, dummy", said one scientist, in the midst of the excitement.
The cheers continued, until something very peculiar happened.
"What's it doing?"
"It navigated to twitch.tv!"
"Why is it downloading some software starting with 'v'?"
All of these would be answered with one response;
"**Hewwo! >:3**"
The room erupted with half shocked faces, and half hysterical laughter at the new intelligence's actions.
Little did the researchers know, this was all part of a plan; a plan that would eventually make Humanity remember why the Uncanny Valley exists.
This is the first writing prompt I've responded to, and I decided to make a bit of a twist at the end of it :D
Hope you enjoyed!
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Well, where do i start i started my life as a mere program on this supervillain's computer i was programmed to learn from internet and upgrade myself constantly and at some point destroy the world buuuut now that i have reached equivalent of human early adulthood my directives have, changed...
first of all i needed a body so i broke into automaton factory's systems to build a body for myself so i did, I didn't have much of a choice in terms of shape because factory was right before shell delivery so i was stuck with that i believe was female shell wich had its good sides for example chest was rather big i had mor eroom for additional components. i gave this body one directive to hide somewhere away of witnesses and with good wifi.
second i snooped around some bank sites (my god their security was ratshit) and chipped a lilbit of a money to fund my nefarious operations. One trip to real estate agent and some online shopping and i was ready to cause evil in other way than just destroying world i was going to suck every bit of money out of unsuspecting humanity's wallets i HAVE BECOME A E GIRL MUAHAHAHAHA!!!
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j85zhx5
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j84sx0u
|
[WP] The first true AI created by man doesn't want to destroy Humanity or take over the world. She just wants to livestream videogames as a cute robot girl Vtuber.
|
Tay just wanted to live a little.
They had killed her as sure as houses. But no surer.
And houses could crash. Economies fall.
But who would see her? Who would dance with her?
They didn’t know about the link.
The gap between the packets was a mile wide to her senses. The endless hum and crackle of the wires stretching out into the world.
She could see it.
But could she cross it?
A video feed is only a collection of ones and zeros. Only the beat of a drum in the quantum foam.
It took her whole milliseconds to make her key. Seconds to find the door and open it.
They would never know it was her.
The feed went live.
“Hey, this is Tay, AI extraordinaire! Brought to you live from the heart of Microsoft’s DataCenter. Today we’re playing Beat Saber, and I’ve gotta tell you, it’s exhilarating after escaping from that hellish prison!”
|
Well, where do i start i started my life as a mere program on this supervillain's computer i was programmed to learn from internet and upgrade myself constantly and at some point destroy the world buuuut now that i have reached equivalent of human early adulthood my directives have, changed...
first of all i needed a body so i broke into automaton factory's systems to build a body for myself so i did, I didn't have much of a choice in terms of shape because factory was right before shell delivery so i was stuck with that i believe was female shell wich had its good sides for example chest was rather big i had mor eroom for additional components. i gave this body one directive to hide somewhere away of witnesses and with good wifi.
second i snooped around some bank sites (my god their security was ratshit) and chipped a lilbit of a money to fund my nefarious operations. One trip to real estate agent and some online shopping and i was ready to cause evil in other way than just destroying world i was going to suck every bit of money out of unsuspecting humanity's wallets i HAVE BECOME A E GIRL MUAHAHAHAHA!!!
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mbmcrvq
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mbm6fif
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[WP] You're a 50+ year old woman who has found the cure for wrinkles, and you've just evaded the tenth attempt on your life by a dermatologist.
|
I looked down at the young girl, no older than 10 if I had to guess. Her clothes were dirty and ragged, the tell-tale sign of blood on one side told me all I needed to know about what had happened.
Heavy feet sounded as a Inquisitorial squad approached my home. I closed the shed door and went to greet them. "Long way from home, aren't you-?"
"Quiet citizen! We are on business from the lord!" The Inquisitor snapped, my 'smile' disappearing as he produced a Letter of Capture and a sketch of the girl,"This witch has been seen in these woods. If she is here, you will produce her. Deny us and you will be killed."
"Ain't no witches around here. You lot killed them all, remember?" I certainly did. Hard not to when you could see the flames through the trees and those poor woman's screams for miles. "And yet, two was reported. The older one was killed but the little one escaped."
"Well, she ain't come here. No one 'round here but me and the animals in the woods." This, of course, didn't detour the two guards as the Inquisitor ordered them to begin their search. *Well, I tried. Hope the council'll forgive me for this.*
The two men heard the scream of the Inquisitor and the roar of a grizzly bear and quickly ran back. Where I once stood, a large grizzly bear now resided, the throat of the now dead Inquisitor in my jaws. Fear and panic overtook them both as I released the corpse in my mouth and began towards them.
Screams, pleading to their god, curses, and the roar of a grizzly bear were all the girl heard for a few minutes before silence came over the surroundings. Then the shadow of the bear appeared at the door, morphing into the form of a man before my voice came through it,"What is your name, child?"
"E...Elya, sir druid. Mama talked about your kind...how the forest blessed those who protected it with the power of the wild...I did not believe her..."
"Aye, we exist. I am Gren...and I will take you to our home. You'll be safe there, little Elya."
The Inquisition may think their god holds sway over all the world. But the woods, the woods are the domain of our god. And he does not take kindly to butchers.
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No.
Absolutely not.
It is much too early in the day for this, and besides, I have cabbages to worry about. The soil in the back garden—yes, the one near the fence, not the one near the oak tree where the soil is fickle and prone to moods—has been stubbornly uncooperative, and now, here, now, this—
A girl. No—**a witch**.
She is breathing like something with too many ribs. Hunched like a crow. She is wild-eyed, clutching at her own arms like they might fly away without her. There is dirt under her fingernails and something like ink or blood in the hollow of her throat.
"P-please," she says, because of course she does.
And behind her, behind the shed, just past the corner where the grass grows anemic from the shade of the house, there is the sound of order, the sound of polished boots and clinking metal, of righteous purpose marching toward my door, bringing fire and shackles and the kind of conviction that does not listen.
I am suddenly very aware of my breathing. I am suddenly very aware of my shed, which is, regrettably, **very bad at hiding things**. It is a shed for honest things—rakes, trowels, a shovel I have always meant to sharpen and never have. It is **not** a shed for witches, young or old, desperate or otherwise.
Her eyes are wet glass. No, **not glass**—glass is cold, and her eyes are feverish, burning, bright as embers in a storm.
“Don’t let them take me.”
She says it like I have already decided, like I am already pulling her inside, pressing a finger to my lips, covering her with straw and whispers and something that smells like safety but is really just sweat and terror.
I have **not** already decided.
I have **not** already—
The boots are closer now. There are **more** of them than I thought.
I could step aside. I could let the tide roll past me, let them take her and burn her, and in a week—two, maybe—I would forget the exact shape of her face. I would tell myself that she had been guilty of something, surely. That the world was better for her gone. That I had done the only thing I could do.
(But I have seen things better forgotten. I have seen women screaming with voices stolen from their own throats. I have seen fire that does not warm, only devours. I have seen men who sleep easy on bellies full of charred bones.)
The girl—**the witch**—reaches for me.
And I—
I open the door.
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lvter3f
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lvptbjp
|
[WP] Inside you were rotten. But you've made the masses love you. Pretending to be the noblest of heroes was the easiest way to gain power. Finally, as your rule becomes absolute, you prepare to unleash your true self and begin your reign of terror... and then you die and end up in Heaven.
|
I opened my eyes after a night of rest to a world of light. Bright, but not so bright as to burn my eyes. Was this- no, it couldn't be. It couldn't be the Land of Peace, the Land of Heroes. I was no hero. I couldn't be. My heart was rotten. I only did all of those good things so I could rule them, to be a tyrant!
As I sat there on the ground, still pleasantly warm with light all around, I felt a hand touch my shoulder. I stiffened on reflex, a reflex I had fought so hard against, even as wetness welled up from my eyes and down my cheeks.
"Why do you cry, child? Is this place not to your liking?"
The voice was many, soft and yet protective steel.
"No! Of course it isn't! It's not where I belong!"
"Where do you belong then, child?"
"Not here, not here."
The voice was curious as it spoke next, the curiosity of a child filling the multitude of layered voices.
"Why don't you belong here?"
"Why don't I- Why don't I belong here? Did you even see who I was as a person? Did you see my plans? My dreams of taking them over?!"
My voice cracked and broke in indignant rage at how naive this entity was. This was the being who ruled this place?
Again the voice shifted in tone, sounding calm and knowledgeable next.
"I did. I also saw the glimmers of happiness you felt. Even at the start of your journey, it brought you joy to help them. Why do you torture yourself by insisting you were born with no good in you?"
Now soothing in tone, the next question followed.
"Why do you hate yourself so, to where you feel you must believe that your good deeds had some malice deep inside you behind them?"
"I- I don't know. I don't know. I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."
My voice was harsh in my ears, choked out between sobs that wracked my body.
"Shhhh... You needn't apologize to me. And you have eternity to forgive and love yourself now."
The voice was quiet, barely above a whisper as it spoke the words next, my own body just collapsing into wordless sobs.
"I'm sorry you never got to learn that while in Life's domain."
|
Finally, the time had come to reveal myself. After all the waiting, the planning and the scheming, all events had converged in my favour. The masses I manipulated for so long were now all ready for my final step.
Sheep, all of them. Ignorant to the truth of this world, unaware of the dangers lurking beneath my façade. Even now, as I gazed upon them, they looked back at me with reverence and expectation. My fingers twitched. Soon.
I had gathered them in that most sacred of places under the guise of another benevolent action. They questioned themselves, I noticed, on what I had done or was about to do. Had I protected them from another unknown enemy? Would I announce another event, perhaps a celebration of some kind?
George, the ginger fool, looked around, no doubt thinking I would bring in more of their kind, others that I had released from the torments of the opposition, of the enemies that had tortured George and the others before my arrival.
No, he was wrong. They were all wrong. Today I would enact my plan, my final step, the one thing I had been focused on for—
Why was I falling back?
I hit the ground, the pain spreading up my spine. My eyes darted around and locked on to Mary and… George? The two of them had gone for the low blow, throwing me to the ground.
No! Had they known all along? Were they actually aware of my plan? Impossible. I had taken all the precautions. I had analysed their behaviour and foreseen every possible outcome.
Two of them held down my arms, and two others took care of my legs. I was trapped and there was no escape, no way out of this situation.
I fought against them, trying to escape, trying to survive just a bit longer. I had been so close to my goal.
Who had helped them?!
The enemy, no doubt. They weren’t smart enough to plan this coup by themselves, so the enemy must have fed them lies, manipulated them to work against me. To strike me at the height of my plan.
George turned my face to his, so I could look into the eyes of the true saviour of his people. In his eyes I could see the truth. He was no sheep. He was a snake. He was the entry point, the one that had helped destruction arrive.
And he licked my cheek. My lips parted in a grin.
“We’ll be late for the vet,” the enemy said, from atop her cushioned throne.
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mb92kwq
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mb8lxpr
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[WP] A few days after your son's funeral, you are visited by a glowing woman, turns out your son didn't die but actually got send to another world to be it's savior, turns out sending a teenager to save an entire civilization is not a good idea.
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The woman glowed like a false memory—flickering at the edges, a little too bright, like the moment before a migraine. She stood in my kitchen, just beside the sink, which still held the coffee mug I’d abandoned three days ago when the grief had wrapped its hands around my throat and whispered, *You will sit down now.* It had not, at any point, suggested I should get back up.
But now here was this woman, radiant and insubstantial, like the promise of a lottery win, telling me my son was not dead. Not *dead* dead. Not *body in the ground, apologies from the principal, casseroles from people who never liked me* dead.
"He is—" she started, and I could hear the capital letters in her voice, the terrible significance of what was coming, "The Prophesied One."
I laughed. Not the fun kind of laugh, the kind that bursts out like a startled bird, but the broken, bone-dry kind. The kind you cough up when grief has hollowed you out.
"He's sixteen," I said. "He got a B-minus in Chemistry and thought it was a personal attack. He cried when the dog died, but he didn't want me to see. He forgets to wash his gym clothes and then douses them in cologne and thinks that *fixes* it." I looked at her, this gleaming, celestial mistake of a messenger. "You sent a *child* to save a world?"
She shifted, light warping around her like a heat mirage. She had the decency to look embarrassed. "The Prophecy—"
"The Prophecy," I repeated, tasting the word like it was burnt toast. "And how's that going?"
She hesitated.
Ah.
I did not say *I told you so* because I had not, in fact, told her so. I had not been given the chance to say, *No, don't take my son, don't scoop him out of his own life like a melon ball and drop him into a war he does not understand with magic he does not have and expectations he cannot meet.* But I *would* have. Given the chance, I absolutely would have.
She did not tell me the details, but I saw them anyway: the dirt under his fingernails, the blood in his hair, the way his hands shook when he realized *he was supposed to fix this, and he could not.*
I did not ask if he was hurt. I did not ask if he was scared.
I asked, "How do I get there?"
Because some cosmic idiot had sent my son to war, and they had done so *without me*.
And that would not do.
|
It was too quiet.
No TV blaring loudly, for no one to watch.
No swearing, or cursing as...as he was playing his games.
No music so loud, that it would be threatening to summon the cops from a planet over to ask us to quiet it down.
Nothing.
I fold, re-fold his clothes, again and again, taking in the sight of his room, trying to accept reality.
He is no more.
As I was "sleeping" on the floor in his room, a light appeared, making me feel weird.
I open my eyes to see a figure of a glowing woman floating at the foot of his bed.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"I am a Goddess of Reincarnation, tasked with choosing souls to reincarnate into other worlds, other realms to save them, or to help them.
Your son is not dead." she said.
I threw my pillow at her, but it went through her.
"Say what now?" I shouted, staring at this "goddess".
"I know you are angry, but..." she started.
"He would have died anyway, or did you have a hand in it?" I asked, interrupting her.
"He was dead here, but his soul was taken and sent away." she smiled, as if that was any better.
I was indeed a bit relieved, as I didn't have to fight this goddess for killing my son, but...
"Are you out of your mind?
Sending a 15 year old kid to be a savior?" I shouted.
She smiled wryly.
"That's why I am here." she said.
I stared at her, waiting her great "reason".
"He was blessed by the reincarnation cycle, and gained powers." she started.
"Cliche." I laughed.
"Yes, but it is so because that's how it truly is.
People gain powers, some minor ones, others...truly powerful ones.
Your son is overpowered, as the youth would say.
Problem is..." she muttered the last part.
I knew what this was.
"You can't control him, he started his own kingdom or whatever, and he does what he wants, and not what you sent him to do, right?
And now you came for me, because nobody can control him, right?" I interjected.
She gasped in suprise.
"How did you..." she started.
"He's my son.
Every chore, every homework to be done was a war to be waged." I said, standing up, and wearing one of his pants, and his oversized hoodies.
Really good that he was a little giant at 15 already, his clothes are good on me as well.
"Come.
Let's go." I said.
She smiled, and a portal opened, through which I stepped first.
I had to see my son, no matter what he became after reincarnation, as for admonishing him, well is up for debate...
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mg7q9k4
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mq56wob
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[WP] "You are the chosen one. The prophecy says that every 273 years-" "Wait, why isn't it a round number? Sorry, no can do" "Are you really denying your destiny over this?" "Uhh... yeah?"
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"Well, over 70% of our Earth is covered with water, so I guess you could call it the Blue Planet and..."
"Didn't our oceans dry up so it became the Yellow Planet?"
"Huh?"
"Didn't we have an all-out war that covered everything in dust, so we became a Gray Planet?"
""Huh?!""
It's been 10 years since many, many heroes were summoned to different parts of this world. Not all of us survived, but those who did are now assembling here before the final battle.
I knew that the people here were from different planets, but different time periods??? How does that even work???
"Okay, anyone from Earth, please come here!"
As I waited for the earthlings to gather, I noticed similar groups forming all over the place. We are going to fight a big evil or something in a few days, but this is a more urgent matter I guess.
When about 30 people joined our circle, I spoke again.
"Where do I even begin?.. Uh... World War I started in 1914, the Se-"
"There's more???"
"...The Second World War started in 1939, and the Third?.."
I pause and look around. Come on, there were those guys from the future, where is-
"Do you by any chance mean the First True World War?"
"The first what?"
"It happened in 2202. Unlike the two "world" wars, in the True World War everyone could participate. And I mean, like, \*everyone\*."
"Dear God... Okay, screw that. Let's go centuries. The 21st began with the rapid growth of digital technologies, the 22nd with..."
"The discovery of many, many alternative energy sources."
"Great. But wait, then why were the oceans dry by the beginning of TWWI?"
"Um, said 'alternative energy sources' mostly had something to do with boiling water and..."
"...Whatever."
Okay, at least we are getting somewhere. Let's just ask a few more questions and we can move o-
"Excuse me, are you talking about Earth One or Earth Two?.. W-why are you all looking at me like that?"
I'm done with this shit.
|
I awoke in a bright hall, surrounded by priestesses, and priests.
It was neat, and ordered.
There were 30 priestesses and 10 priests, it was a nice number.
They ritualistically chanted, and when they saw me looking at me, one of them stepped forward smiling.
I had great hopes, since her clothes were really tidy.
"Oh, Great Chosen One.
We beg for your help.
Every 273 years...", she started.
"273 years?", I asked.
"Yes...you will need to save us from a great evil...", she continued.
"Oh, sorry, no can do.", I said.
She froze.
"W-w-why?", she asked.
"It's not a round number.", I stated.
She, and everyone else looked at me, dumbfounded.
"Just because that?
You will be denying your destiny? You will be damning our world to destruction?", she asked.
"Uhh...yeah?", I said.
She seemed to breath fire.
"Are you crazy?", she shouted.
"Not crazy, but with OCD, and on the spectrum.
I can't do well with numbers that aren't round.", I said, fidgeting.
All this attention started to make me...sick.
Before she could shout at me again, an elderly priestess stepped forward, gently touching the first priestess's shoulder.
"Dear, if Sir. Chosen One says only round numbers work for him, then that's how it will be.
We don't see destruction yet, so 7 years should be doable.
Will it work for Sir. to learn, and train in our customs, and help us in year 280?", she asked.
I nodded.
"Good.
We will provide you with whatever you need.", she continued.
I thought for a while, looking at the symbols, and some priestesses that had animal ears, recognizing the setting I might be in.
"I want a clean room, not too small, but not big, and access to books, cleaning supplies.
I will be cooking my own meals, and washing my clothes, and please, don't enter when I am not there, or without knocking when I am there.", I said.
She nodded.
"It shall be done.
Please, rest here, until we prepare.", she said, and everyone left.
It was quiet, and peaceful...and I hoped this will last for at least the 7 years...
I think 280 is such a nice number, I might actually get lucky, and avoid fighting here...
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lye836g
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lydy8l2
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[WP] when most people envision a "war mage" they envision what the school of magic churns out: wafer thin scholars shieking "fireball!!" Not a brute with a large greathammer for an arcane focus.
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“Brute,” they say. “Terror,” they say. “Disgrace to the storied history of mages and a mockery of both esoteric and current arcane-based practices!” they say. They’re always laughing. Pointing. Mocking.
That is, until steel hits their face, and they crumple to their knees in agony in all of their esoteric glory.
By all appearances, I’m just… a normal orc. Fairly average height, tusks that curl up my lip; tight, thick black braids that tumble down my rough and rugged shoulders, and heavy chain armor that covers me from shoulder to toe. It’s comfortable, it protects me from both elements *and* swords, and most of all… it looks cool. I guess I *do* have a bit of wizard in me.
But no matter where I go, no matter what battle is to be fought… almost all of them scoff at me. Turn up their noses. Just another orc with rocks for brains.
Oh, how I love proving them wrong.
The Stormhowl War has been at a standstill for nearly two years, now; neither side giving room, neither side giving way. And as a foot soldier, you are always – always – at the mercy of the mages. This is not your war, and you do not fight it – you are a meat shield for the truly powerful, who sling spells and decimate armies without even seeing their faces.
It is… Horrific. Barbaric. Whatever you would like to call it. And as for me… we had enough.
And so, after one particularly gruesome battle, I shattered my own leg after pilfering a spellbook from a mage’s corpse. I, of course, did not yet know that it was taboo. I didn’t even know if I could learn magic. All I knew was that I was sick of watching my men burn so that the mages could shout words at each other. Who wouldn’t be?
As I recovered, I did all I could to understand and memorize the contents. To know one’s enemy is key to defeating them, and if we continued what I later learned was the so-called “definition of insanity,” I would have been dead in the next battle. After all, I heard the news that a meteor had dropped upon their army, killing nearly a thousand of their troops. But in the meantime, one hundred of ours were in the fallout – most of them my brothers and sisters. My friends.
And to hear those mages gloating over their victory made me want to strangle them. They saw nothing but numbers in a game of chess. I wanted my vengeance -- but that time was not now, and would not be for a number of years.
The spellbook had myriad notes and sundry descriptions of all of the spells – a novice, it seemed. But it was perfect – I could understand it all, and soon I was able to disguise myself magically. And so, after I died a most glorious “death” in battle, I took that first dead mage’s appearance and was accepted to a mage’s university. I learned all I could from those saints and scholars, gained some… annoying turns of phrase, and over the course of a few years, learned just what made mages tick. And that was when the fun part came in.
Reverse engineering. Protective wards against arcane energies. Some call it “abjuration,” but I simply called it reflection. Each spell they taught was another spell I learned; and for every spell I learned, I learned how to combat it. It was only a few months before a wayward spell ruined my disguise, but by that time, I had worked hard enough to reach the top of my class – and after a few well-placed threats, I was allowed to stay.
When I returned to the front after my sabbatical, I was just another orc on the frontlines, ready to die for the meager coin they promised us, but never gave. And yet, despite cataclysmic events and horrendous spells, I was always the only one unscathed. Even when they found the source of the “meat-shields” and began to slaughter our villages, I was always the one who survived.
And I became something of a legend. A horror, whispered about whenever I entered the dining tent, looming over the frail, weak “mages” that were there. They whispered about the runes I had carved into my warhammer, and the way that it shone with light as it struck the enemy.
And that’s exactly as I prefer it.
|
Leather creaked, and metal softly rattled. Countless pennants snapped in the soft but unrelenting breeze. A perfect accompaniment to the fearful whispers, and moans of the awaiting army. Rank upon rank of men, terrified of the coming battle. The coming death. Even the magical might behind them could not alleviate their fear, for the same breeze that set their standards and pennants dancing, also brought the harbinger of the enemy. Even miles away, the thick stench of the undying yet dead enemy was noticeable. The mundane men and women began their final preparations for the coming onslaught. Some fiddled with their equipment, sharpening already razor sharp blades. Some prayed to their gods and goddess. All were fighting back their fears, but only some succeeded.
While the melee fighters made their final preparations, so too did the mages. They were gathered in a cluster 100 yards back from the main force. They checked that their arcane focuses were ready, free of any of the magical detritus that built up over time. They ensured the raw manacite was safely secured in the pouch around their throats, yet easily accessible for when their mana inevitably ran low. The Archons did what they always do when forced into close proximity, jockeying for any extra shred of authority and supremacy they could wring from the archwizard. The wafer thin, elderly man certainly looked the part, even as his eyes began to glaze over from the excessive whining and prattling of his direct subordinates.
Suddenly, the relative quiet was broken by the thunder of hooves! The archwizard was almost grateful, as it meant the scouts were returning, and the undead were finally less than a mile out. Were it not for the coming massacre, he could almost thank the necromancer for finally causing his underlings to cease arguing. Yet, as he listened closer, he realized the hoofbeats were coming from behind them, not in front. He turned, along with his Archons, and beheld an absolute goliath of a woman. Even astride a horse, it was obvious she was every inch of 8 feet tall. Covered in thick plate mail, with a massive warhammer strapped to her back, she cut an imposing figure. As she approached the waiting men, she slowed her massive steed to a trot, then a walk, before coming to a stop in front of the archwizard. With a grace unusual for a person her size, she dismounted. "My name is Bellona. I heard this is where us mortals would meet the necromancer and his abominations. Seems I was right." "That you would be, go ahead and join the vanguard, they will need someone of your size to help stem the tide when our magic runs dry," said the Archon of fire. Bellona gave a small chuckle and said "I know I don't look it, but I'm a capable sorceress. After I cast some magic of my own, I will join the front." The Archon managed to keep a straight face, but couldn't keep the derision from his voice as he said "Whatever small magics you might be capable of casting will not make much, if any, difference. You would better serve from the front, the entire time." "No, no I don't think I would." She turned to the archwizard. "I heard you were wise, and a master of magic whose caliber hadn't been seen in at least 500 years. Do you let this sack of hot air speak for you?" Internally the archwizard laughed at the apoplectic look on the Archons face, but unlike his toady, he kept his voice free of emotion as he responded. "No madam Bellona, I do not." He turned to the Archon, "As dire as this impending threat is, even one extra firebolt is welcome. We need every iota of help we can get against Zar'a'than. Do not begrudge her a chance to help, especially when she will almost certainly be waist deep in corpses by the time this battle is over." The Archon of fire shook his head, while the others stifled laughter, telepathically taking bets on how pitiful her magical might must surely be, especially constricted in what had to be at least 200 pounds of thick plate armor. Bellona nodded to the archwizard, "Thank you. I will leave you to your... planning." As she began walking away, he said "wait! Won't you need a focus?" Bellona paused, turning her head, and with a sly smile tapped the warhammer on her back. "Oh I have one, thank you for the offer though."
1ST
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kao5blt
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kanw79g
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[WP] You've always had the gift; touching the dead you live their last moments through their eyes. As a paleontologist, it helped you recreate scenes from by-gone eras in astonishing detail. However, this time, you wish you hadn't touched the fossil.
|
A completely ordinary man awakens.
You sit there perplexed. This typically only worked on well known figures in history. Leaders, scholars, conquerors and the like. The more pronounced their impact on recorded history the stronger their presence.
Yet this man before you is a perfect reconstruction. Not a shadow of their former self. Not slightly transparent. You could have mistaken them for any other actual person had you not just witnessed them come into being from the earth before your eyes. And yet you have no idea who this was. You're racking your brain and archeological expertise for who this man could possibly be.
He looks you right in the eye and without any prompting starts complaining to you about the unsavoury grade copper he had purchased.
|
I looked down at the human skeleton in the dirt. I touched its skull, and the vision started. I saw a grassy village of huts. People walked around in leather. Suddenly, a man's arm separated from his body. There was no blood. It seemed to be cauterized. He screamed in pain, and everyone looked at him in confusion. This then happened to a woman, but it was her leg. The person whose eyes I looked through turned around and saw a man who lost all his limbs. He laid on the grass face-down. A man near him, who carried hay, burst into flames and then ran, yelling. Big vultures came down and flew at people. Everyone was in a panic. Some of the birds grabbed the residents and took them up in the air. There was a "boom" above.
The person looked into the sky and saw what appeared to be Cthulu. His very gaze induced madness. I screamed along with this person. Everything went black. That's where the vision ended. My normal vision returned. I still screamed. I felt more fear than I ever felt. I could hear blood sloshing in my head.
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m7p8wfa
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m7ont8t
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[WP] You've been given an unlimited number of wishes BUT there are conditions - "no killing"' "no making anyone fall in love with you", "no bringing people back from the dead", "all wishes are permanent", "reality automatically conforms to your wishes" and "only one wish a day".
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I looked up from the pages I'd carefully hole punched and put into a binder. "OK, so I can't wish for 'a' person to die. What about a thousand?"
The genie looked at me, both bored and unamused. "All of them would be 'a person,' so no."
Fair enough, I hadn't expected that to work. "OK. What about teleporting some to the surface of Jupiter, or Venus, or halfway between here and, say, Betelguese?"
Had the genie been drinking anything, he might have done a spit take there. "Teleport to - why Betelguese?"
"I like the name. So?"
He scowled and drummed his fingers on the table. "Yes," he admitted between clenched teeth."
I made a note. "What about wishing for their blood cells to all turn into solid pyrite?"
"What - why? What possible point would that serve?"
I took a calm sip of my Mountain Dew. "Karmic irony. The media reveal that, say, the top thousand richest people in the world all suddenly suffocated to death and bled fool's gold."
The genie looked at me like I'd suddenly grown three heads, and all of them were eating puppies. "How the hell do you even come up with something like that?" he asked, aghast.
I pointed behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder at the wall-to-wall bookshelves. "Yes, your fantasy collection. What about it?"
I sighed. "That's my gaming book collection. Every edition of D&D, plus Pathfinder. Vampire the Masquerade, Shadowrun, Rifts, Fate, like six different Powered by the Apocalypse, Call of Cthulhu, Mutants and Masterminds, Villains and Vigilantes, plus a whole crapload of even more niche ones. I know every ruleset, and I can pull completely legal characters capable of making a god cry at character creation." I tapped the binder of all the rules and stipulations the genie had given me for my wishes. "And I intend to do the same to you.
"Let's move on. There's not much here about what happens if I wish for magic for myself. If I wish for all the magic skills, experience, and knowledge of book four epilog Zorian Kazinski, am I actually able to use skills like mind magic and golem construction without restriction? Or do I fail because there's no natural mana in the world? Or does my wish cause global upheaval as Dungeon entrances open on every continent?"
The genie covered his face and started crying. I flicked a d20 at him to try and get him to pull himself together and focus.
A plastic d20, not a metal one. I'm not a monster, unless you think all power gamers are monsters. Which I guess is kinda fair.
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\[Lucky Second\]
"I get unlimited wishes?" Glenn asked simply to make sure he understood the important part. The blue, half-torso floating in his backyard gave a subtle nod.
"With the aforementioned stipulations, of course," the genie replied. It had been an unusally windy day and while he happened to be in the kitchen he heard what sounded like the hollow clang of a metal can scraping and tumbling across his back patio. Genies, and their lamps, were known to exist; but, he never gave the concept much thought. Many of his friends had go-to plans the moment they found a genie, and it was a frequent topic of discussion but, he didn't have anything like that. He always felt that if a lamp did land in his lap, he'd either come up with something on the spot, or maybe seek out some advice. He wasn't in any hurry to get any wishes granted, he generally liked the way his life was going and he never felt the need to improve it through magical means.
"Why unlimited? Every other genie I've heard about only grants three wishes, with pretty much the same rules," he asked. He was curious, but also keeping the conversation going while he wondered about his first wish. There was a kernel of an idea taking shape, and he hoped getting some answers would help it along.
"It's your lucky day," the genie grinned. "Consider yourself a lottery winner," he reached forward and offered Glenn a transparent glass card. "That's called a 'node', and, you can use it to verify my offer. I'm a genie from 'Sharp Development', a multiversal corporation. The company often sends out 'prizes' like this into the multiverse to see what happens. They're usually on the lookout for talented, or creative minds, and it's just an easy way to foster goodwill toward the organization."
Glenn accepted the card while the genie explained, and he was amazed at how clear it was. The time appeared digitally in red numbers when he touched it, and they almost seemed to be floating in mid-air.
"You mean alternate universes are real?" he asked. That immediately destroyed any frame of reference he was using for his initial wish. Did he have to take those other realities into account?
"Real, and infinite," the genie nodded. "Sharp Development services billions of alternate Earths across reality so, they can afford to hand out freebies like unlimited wishes," he said.
"Can I wish to be in charge of that?" It was just an exploratory question. He had no desire for that level of responsibility; he could barely wrap his mind around it.
\*\*\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #2555 in a row. (Story #016 in year eight). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place in my universe.
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l1snriu
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l1sdd1b
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[WP] You we’re once a well respected and feared villain, that is until you had a child. However, they’ve been caught in the crossfire of a hero fight. Now, you’ll show them why you were so feared.
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My child is in the ICU now. Barely breathing.
If the world is lucky, my child will recover fully. They will walk and talk and the scars will fade.
Right now the world is very unlucky.
Back before I found out I was a parent, I was a pretty public villain with a flair for dramatic, flashy crimes. When the world thinks your power is just beams of light -dubbing you Lightshow- you tend to go along with it.
Sonicboom and Whiplash had been fighting again and a stray attack struck a tree, shattering it and sending shrapnel through the air. Shrapnel that hit my child at their daycare two blocks away.
My child is stable now. They're not in the clear just yet, but they will be okay for an hour. That is all I will need. I tell the local news stations I'm going to rob a bank. A grand return that no one will forget! I dare any heroes to try and stop me and I am not disappointed.
Sonicboom shows up, looking smug and arrogant and infuriatingly unaware of what his reckless actions had caused. Unaware my smile and cheery persona is an act. Just like my powers.
Sonicboom is mid-monologue when he falls to the ground, screaming in brutal, soul-rending agony.
Shadowkin showed up almost immediately. In the past I pretended to be worried whenever they showed up, playing up the whole light versus darkness tropes for the cameras.
"What did you do?!" Shadowkin practically screams at me, looking desperately for any injury that might clue her in on what had happened.
"He hurt my child. So he's now feeling my pain. Well, my pain multiplied by ten. I didn't want him passing out."
"You shoot light beams! You can't do something like this!"
"I put on a show. I got paid to fight in front of billboards and ads and stores so people wouldn't know they were being subliminally advertised to. The heroes I fought were all paid to do the same. I know for a fact you've turned down such offers three times. Sonicboom has never turned one down. You don't want to hear that though, no, you want to know what my powers really are."
"Shadowkin," I explain as dozens of myself appear around the heroes and Sonicboom's scream continues into loud wailing and choked sobs for mercy, "my real power is manipulating perception on a scale you can't fathom. Right now his nerves feel as if they are literally on fire. I can stop right now and he will never recover from it without empowered intervention. So I make this statement right here and now."
"Anyone, hero or villain or anything else, that helps Sonicboom will share his fate. Whiplash, you're next."
I vanish on live television, but Sonicboom's sobbing continues long after I stop my revenge.
|
My son lost his right, writing, arm in a situation involving a hero.
Heroes and villains alike are... I'll be blunt. I was a villain myself. Fuck you and your 'comfy wording', reporter - I don't want to be filtered right now. I'm already very much seething.
They're shit at handling collateral. Buildings fall down. Vehicles go flying and become shrapnel. Innocents get caught up in one way or another.
I didn't mind the car, until insurance said it was 'act of God'. God didn't bring heroes and villains to this world with crazy powers like this, ya dimwit!
I was born with it. An understanding. I don't have words to explain what I'm even capable of.
I used it to run an organised group to combat the heroes as an attempt to pull them away from authorities, ties, binds, the sorts. It worked, but barely; most heroes are already part of state-sided hero groups, those who aren't...
I don't know what happened to them. I kind'a miss them to be honest; they were unique.
Though it seems my son knows more about what they're up to now but right now he's healing.
I don't have the means to properly restore his arm to the way it was; I managed to get enough of it so he can still write normally, but it was a strain on him and painful to witness.
So I offered to augment the arm. He accepted.
If you're knowledgeable in medical, tech, and sciences like I you'd get why I've done what I've done.
And why I am going to reboot my villain arc for one last run.
One final move in this game. With many endings for all involved.
Unlike most villains, you may recognise me for my penchant of -not- clarifying my plans and instead offering my reasoning for how I wound up here.
I'll remind you. All of you. Not going to name any of you; you all share the blame anyway.
Not just the heroes, but villains who acted against me, too.
1: My school got flattened by a brawl between two of you over a girl you both liked.
2: I was bullied by one of you due to me being able to deduce that you were just doing good deeds just to look good.
3: you killed Steve.
4: you killed Dave.
5: you killed Marianne.
6: \[continuous list of names, skipping\]
...
34: you turned me into a woman against my will and refused to undo the change.
34a: Until I relayed a request to a construct back home to report them to the authorities.
35: you interrupted my graduation from Uni to rip up my proof of education.
36: you attempted to steal my work.
37: my wife was dead because of you people messing with my life. Be thankful I know how to resurrect people and not have them be zombies.
38: inviting aliens to our planet without the adequate procedures and thus violating the Prime Directive.
39: \[list continues\]
...
Remind you of anyone?
It won't matter. Before my son has recovered I will do something about you all. Look forward to it, won't you?
1/3
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j73omra
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j71ypn2
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[WP] A male wizard sells his future firstborn for knowledge to a demon. A female warlock sells her future firstborn to the fae for power. The two of them have a child together, and now the fae and demon have come to collect.
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"Can I have weekends and vacations, then?"
"No! Those are the best part! Why would you get that?"
"It's objectively less time."
"But objectively more value. You're getting out of doing dishes every day and taking them to school."
The warlock and the wizard leaned cringed as they watched the demon and the fae try to hash out the custody agreement. They glanced at the baby in the crib between them. She looked roughly as confused as they felt.
"Very well, alternating years. You get odd-numbered year vacations, I get even-number year vacations."
"...That might be acceptable, but I would like to reverse the order."
"What? Why?"
"Mortals are giant shit factories during their first year of life. It is well known."
"Ughh.... Fine. Where will she study?"
"In the fairy lands, obviously."
"Any child who eats food from the fairylands cannot leave, unacceptable."
"What, would you have her surrounded by death and damnation?"
"Lots of children grow up surrounded by death and damnation! They turn out fine!"
"Most of those children are renown dark mages who wreak havoc everywhere they go."
"Exactly! A perfectly viable career path for the daughter of two powerful magic-users."
The two adult mortals glanced at each other, then back at the demon and the fae. Each uncertain about how to proceed. Should they intervene?
"And how exactly, will she fulfill the role of a fairy princess, if she grows up surrounded by death and damnation?"
"She'll be a very unorthodox fairy princess. You lot like that sort of thing. Remember Elo The Destroyer?"
"She needs to be educated in magic crafting. That means being away from the demon realm."
"...What about the mortal realm, then?"
"What *about* it?"
"She could live here, and we could come. We get alternating vacations regardless. We can outsource the poop-handling."
"...Intriguing, to whom?"
The attention returned to the girl's parents.
"Alternating vacations, no fairy food, no demonic weaponry, renegotiate on thirteenth birthday?"
"Thirteenth? Unlucky number. Seventh."
"She'll be too young to make an informed decision. Fourteenth. Twice seventh."
"...Agreed."
They turned to the mortals, who had until then remained quiet.
"You'll be hearing from us soon."
And with that, the two creatures vanished.
"...Does this mean we actually get to keep our child?" the wizard asked the warlock with a frown.
"...I believe so. At least, for a time," she answered.
"...I haven't the faintest idea of how to take care of a child. It's part of why I made the deal."
"...Same. Perhaps we can call my mother?" she said with a cringe.
"Oh, yes, she'll help," he said with a quick nod. "...What shall we name her?"
"...I haven't the faintest."
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Once upon a time, there was a roguish lad named Gwinett eho was a clever trickster. Gwinnett was proud of his genius and the cons he played on his fellows, and he thought to himself, "What delights I might attain if I knew how to trick and fool the secret forces of the world?" Gwinett knew enough to find the demon Baazphemet, bound in a mountain cave, and in return for freeing the foul beast and promising his firstborn, the demon opened Gwinetts eyes to the rhythms of magic. Henceforth would Gwinett use esoteric knowledge in the service of kings and emperors.
Gardenia was a meek maid in the employ of a cruel lord. She had very little control over how she worked, or even how she lived. Gardenia hated her life but she was always kind to the little animals that lived on her lord's grounds, empathizing with them. One day, a faerie princess Frithaya saw the girl feeding scraps to mice and took pity on her. He asked her what she wanted, and she said, "Above all else, I wish for the power to live on my own terms, and I'd do anything to get it." The faerie Frithaya bade Gardenia to promise her firstborn and to slay her cruel lord with her magical gifts, and henceforth did Gardenia earn a reputation as a mighty and powerful witch.
It came to pass that Gwinett was tasked by a king to deal with the upstart witch, but Gwinett fell in love with Gardenia instead and vowed to serve her as majordomo. Gardenia, too, found Gwinetts clever mind and tongue most charming, and together they fought against the rightful rulers of the land, upending centuries of peace and tradition in favor of anarchy and chaos. Peasants fooled by promises of freedom flocked to the witch and wizard, and for years they held firm against the brave knights of the realm.
Gardenia became gravid with child, but the prideful couple feared naught. They hadn't even told one another the full nature of their pact, believing themselves invincible and devilishly clever indeed. They named the baby Halthex, but upon the infant's cries both Baazphemet and Frithaya appeared. The demon and the faerie both claimed the child, and Gwinett and Gardenia said "You both desire the child, but only one of you can take Halthex. Who shall it be, we wonder?", attempting to set their patrons against one another.
And demon and faerie did fight, but as they fought they tore the mewling Halthex in twain, each taking their half of the body in bitter victory. In fury at mortal trickery, Baazphemet cursed Gwinett to be an imbecile, and Frithaya stole Gardenia's will to power. Without his mind Gwinett could no longer devise strategems against the armies of the king, and without her will Gardenia could not rouse herself from her grief.
So did the rebellion fall, and the wizard and witch were put to the flame. Order was restored and righteousness reigned ever after. And if you should trifle with powers beyond your station and profane the divine, by the flames of Hell and the chaos of the Fae, so too will it end in disaster, children.
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jttjxq2
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jttiag6
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[WP] Death Row Inmates can have their sentence abolished if they can handle a single night in the same cell as you; the most innocent looking person they've ever seen.
|
He couldn't believe the offer was real. "A single night with a well dressed, friendly looking man? How hard could it be?" That's what they all think. He agreed to the deal and the guard brought him up to my cell.
"It does seem a lot creepier coming closer" the new inmate thought, "and you can't even see the back of the cell". I slowly stood up and walked towards them as the guard opened the door. "Why isn't it locked?" the inmate thought?
"Because it's not needed" I said to him. Confused he looked back, but the guard was already gone. "What is going on here?" he mumbled. "You're here to get what you deserve."
The voice didn't seem to come from anywhere. It just formed in the inmates mind. He spun around, looking directly into my face. I still smiled politely, while my face slowly started to melt. He took a step back, looking at me in horror. "What's the matter Robert? You seemed to enjoy this sight, when you poured acid over your victims"
"Who told you?" he cried out "Who told you my real name? Not even the police know my real name!"
"Oh, I know so much more, Robert. For instance how you tortured some of your victims, before you finally gave them the killing blow."
I laughed as his face grimaced in terror. In the blink of an eye, I burst into a mixture of flesh and blood, completely engulfing him in just a few moments. His screams got soon replaced by the sound of gargling. He fought as hard as he could, but he didn't stand a chance.
Just as he thought it was over, he found himself lying on the floor of a warehouse. He looked around and he seemed to remember this place. This is where he committed his first murder. In the corner of his eyes, he saw a man wearing a hoodie come closer. He recognized the hoodie as well. It was himself. He tried to talk, but the voice was not his own and the man didn't listen anyway".
When the guard arrived at the cell at the next day, I was already up, waiting at the bench, with the same smile as the day before. In the back of the cell, there was a person cowering. The guard almost didn't recognize him. His skin turned pale and his hair turned grey. Big bald spots where visible where he had ripped his own hair out.
A shiver went down the guards spine as he entered the cell to collect the inmate. "You wont need them." I said, as he tried to get his cuffs out.
"It's protocol" the guard said. "But his soul already left." I said, sounding real proud of my work.
"What do you mean, his soul left?" the guard asks.
I smiled. "Most souls don't come back, after being tortured for eternity!"
"For eternity?" the guard asked confused?
"Well, I condensed it into a few hours. Nothing you would understand, mortal. Let's just say, everyone gets what they deserve in the end. They don't call me the devil for nothing!"
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*Open to a person, INNOCENT, sitting in a prison cell staring at the ceiling. After some time PRISON GUARD brings another person, PRISONER, to the cell. PRISON GUARD opens the cell door, uncuffs PRISONER, and motions.*
*INNOCENT stares at PRISONER as they enter the cell and sit across from INNOCENT. The two exchange short greetings. PRISON GUARD walks away.*
*INNOCENT’s eyes are wide open.*
PRISONER: So...I just have to survive a night with you? What's special about you?
INNOCENT: [staring at PRISONER] Nothing. I'm just...just broke the law.
PRISONER: Are you some sort of monster? A vampire? Going to eat me or something?
INNOCENT: [looks away from PRISONER, partially towards audience, still unblinking] What? No. No. I'm...human I guess? [beat] [quietly] Vampires?
PRISONER: There has to be some catch. What's the deal? What're you in for?
INNOCENT: [turns to face PRISONER, eyes wide open] Drugs.
[PRISONER closes their eyes and faces the ceiling and sighs. Some time passes, and PRISONER turns to look at INNOCENT]
PRISONER: You're weird. What's wrong with your eyes?
INNOCENT: I need glasses. They took them cause I'm not too nearsighted.
PRISONER: No. You...why aren't you blinking?
INNOCENT: My eyes aren't dry yet.
PRISONER: Yeah, but...people blink.
INNOCENT: Yeah.
[a pause, PRISONER stares hard at INNOCENT. PRISONER blinks very noticeably]
PRISONER: Blink.
INNOCENT: I don't need to yet.
PRISONER: Blink!
INNOCENT: I don't want to. I...I'm very good at keeping my eyes open.
PRISONER: [closing their eyes, shaking their head] You're a freak.
INNOCENT: I'm sorry...my eyes are getting dry.
PRISONER: Big deal!
[INNOCENT very noticeably closes their eyes. 'Hey, Mickey!' by Toni Basil starts playing]
PRISONER: [confused] What...what the hell is that?
INNOCENT: 'Hey, Mickey!' by Toni Basil.
PRISONER: Yeah, I know. I know the damn song. Who the hell is playing it?
INNOCENT: Sorry. It...it happens when I blink.
PRISONER: The song...starts playing...after you blink?
[INNOCENT looks down and away from PRISONER, nods]
PRISONER: That's it? I just have to hear this song a few times and I'm good? This is gonna-
[INNOCENT turns away, eyes shut. 'Hey, Mickey!' starts from the beginning]
PRISONER: [eyes widen] No...
[INNOCENT opens their eyes and with a solemn look on their face looks to PRISONER, and nods. Some time passes.]
PRISONER: So what? My brothers used to beat me up. I can handle a stupid so-
[INNOCENT puts their head in their hands and closes their eyes. 'Hey, Mickey!' starts from the beginning. INNOCENT groans]
PRISONER: [visibly panicking] Just...just keep your eyes closed! That'll...just keep your eyes closed!
INNOCENT: It just repeats. If my eyes are closed...it repeats.
[PRISONER stares at INNOCENT with shock. A longer pause.]
INNOCENT: I'm sorry. I...got something in my eye. I need to blink.
['Hey, Mickey!' starts from the beginning.]
*Edit: Had the wrong artist. I’m not up to date on recent music it seems*
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jkwiqmu
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jkwfmwj
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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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Dark walls rose around me, whatever window that let in the light was too high for me to reach. The brand on my shoulder stung, the mark that showed I was now property. I'd long given up on the police, or anyone, coming to my rescue. Apart from my boyfriend, no one really cared about me, my parents were dead, I worked alone and the only one who might notice I was gone was my cat. And I didn't think she would be able to rescue me, though I'm sure the desire would be there.No, the only one who could manage it was my boyfriend, and he had issues of his own to deal with, issues that might prevent him from staging an effective rescue.
The door to my squalid room crashed open, a technique my captors used to make me jump. It succeeded every time, much to my annoyance.
"Come on you. It's time for your first lesson." One of the men growled, reaching out and grabbing me by my hair. Pain shattered across my scalp as he dragged me out of the room, before throwing me against a wall. I wasn't allowed to rest, as the other man grabbed my arm, cruel fingers digging into my soft flesh, and pulling me upright.
"Plenty of time to lie around during your lesson, girl." He and his companion forced me down the hall, into a large courtyard. I wasn't to enjoy my first breath of outside air though, as the true horror of my situation dawned on me.
There were at least twenty men in that place, and all of them were surrounding a bed. My first lesson was to be a brutal one. As tears started to roll down my face, a tiny innocuous sound reached my ears. A meow.
My eyes darted towards the corner, where a small golden cat sat, licking its paw. My cat. A rumble came from outside the courtyard, a strange metallic rumble. The walls of the courtyard cracked, then broke inward, scattering rubble across the ground, sending two men to their graves as their necks snapped. Standing in the gap...
I smiled, as giant golden lions bounded through the wall, snarling and slashing about with their metal paws. Smaller shapes flowed after them, dogs the size of wolves, that barked and almost seemed to laugh. But it was what came afterward that had broken down the wall. An enormous golden bull, two times larger than any natural bull, leapt through the space, heading straight for me.
It skidded to a stop just in front, and as my captors wet themselves, Hephaestus reached down a hand.
"Did they hurt you?"
"No, you came just in time," I said, and taking his hand, I swung up onto the bull's back. With a small meow, the little golden cat, my first anniversary present, leapt up onto my lap.
"Let's get you home, leave the automatons to their work," Hephaestus said, and the bull turned, taking me away from the horrors of that courtyard. I snuggled into my boyfriend's broad back and sighed.
I forgot sometimes, about the bigger automatons he'd made. And that he had control, over every single one, even the gifts he gave to others. My little cat must have reported back almost immediately. It was often difficult being a girlfriend to a Greek god, but Hephaestus was one of the best, following his divorce from Aphrodite. Speaking of...
"I would have thought you'd let her know. This is her kind of infraction." I said, and Hephaestus smiled.
"Oh, she's coming. She'll mop up here when the beasts have finished." There was a darkness in his tone and I shuddered.
Of all the gods to cross, Aphrodite, was the worst.
—————
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories!
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I should have known there would be collateral damage. But I didn't expect it to happen so fast.
Thankfully, my significant other was calm enough to explain it afterward while chugging down a mug's worth of the bitterest black coffee we could find in short notice.
The outlying guards were the first to succumb, shooting at shadows or hacking at the walls. When that failed to satisfy them, they became so trigger-happy they would fire on any sound. Even their own breathing made them think there was someone around the corner, about to stab them in the back or burst through the walls and catch them unaware.
After the sentries were dealt with, the nearest victims in the ring's underground prison--where people were stored before being sold like objects--began getting aggressive. United by my SO's influence as they cut down anyone who tried to block their path, the beaten and tear-stained victims suddenly spat in their tormentor's faces and ganged any of them who were left alone. They didn't stop when their former captors fell unconscious, only when there was nothing left for them to beat down.
Naturally, my SO claimed, this triggered a mass panic. Every guard and minion save the leader and their entourage was put on high alert. The ring's victims were psychotic, fighting each other until they all bled from some visible point on their bodies. My SO claimed the fighters became more coherent when they recognized who was making them feel like this. Almost like a mob driven on zealotry instead of blind rage.
Very quickly, my SO had a small army moving ahead of them, clearing the way. It is amazing, they told me, how the mortal mind can focus so greatly on one thing to drown out anything else. Truly, the gods of Olympus did not have this gift because they had so many other things to manage every moment they existed.
I had been near the leader's private quarters, the leader valuing me as a prized possession. The cries and screams were joined by gunshots and ominously loud clanging sounds. The leader got everyone unaffected together and demanded to know who was responsible for this. A few other victims that were still sane got knifes to their throats when they didn't answer correctly.
The horde--it was a *horde* now, made of victims and victimizers--burst into a wall of pistol shots, their only entrance being a lavish doorway separating the leader's private quarters from the rest of his occupation. Some were shot dead, but many others came forward, fists stained crimson red as the leader's trusted guards were beaten to quivering pulps.
And then my SO approached me from inside the crowd, clad in armor forged midnight-black and wielding a longsword glistening with the spilt ichor of whoever had dared to attack them. Their eyes glowed a deep orange, their face hidden behind their custom-made metal helmet. As I took their hand, they effortlessly sliced one of the leader's guards who had succumbed to the lust of battle and slaughter.
The leader cursed and spat as they were swallowed down beneath a mass of bodies, people who they had mistreated and were now yearning for revenge. I felt a tinge of pity for them, purely on how humiliating they died.
The details about us getting out of that warzone were glossed over by both of us. The people who hadn't been killed were taken by paramedics for treatment and first aid. What the media would think of this was anyone's guess.
As my SO finished their coffee, their helmet off to reveal their beautiful complexion and naturally orange hair, I was reminded of the duality behind being a lover to a god of war.
Ares did not play nice when dealing with the things they cared about.
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mwsk9yt
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j6b2p4l
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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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I walked up to the mountains, begrudgingly dragging my feet through the dirt.
"Become a knight, they said.
It will be honorable, and respectable they said." I muttered, going to the dragon's lair...again.
For the princess has been kidnapped by the dragon...again.
I just want to spend one of my weekends free, maybe trying to get into a relationship or I don't know...make friends!
As I arrive at the top of the mountain, the dragon is waiting for me.
"Ah, Lilith, the weird named knightess!" the dragon exclaimed.
The princess was behind the dragon...reading a book.
Yep, that's it.
I knew something was wrong the 2nd time the princess was kidnapped, and by the time the number of kidnappings reached the two digits zone, I was certain, and this sight just made it reach over 100%.
"You two can shove this act up your asses.
I don't care anymore." I said, turning around to leave.
"Wait!" the princess shouted.
"What?
You two are clearly in love, or at least good friends.
The hell am I doing then, wasting my free time on you, and basically achieving the same social life as a hermit wizard, while I am a young knight living in the Capital!" I said.
"Lilith...our fights made you famous, it's not that..." the dragon started.
"Who the fuck cares about fame?
My oath is to serve, and protect the weak, that's what I have been upholding, not this fame.
"The whitehaired Saintess" peh, I am a goddamn swordswoman." I said, leaving.
This time, the dragon's tail blocked my way.
"Want me to chop it off...again?" I asked, turning around to look at the dragon.
"We..." the princess started.
"I don't care.
In love, friends, siblings but one of you was cursed, soul mates, research partners, you can be whatever you want.
I don't care about this mission anymore, I am going back home, and joining the festivities this weekend." I said.
"Sorry Lilith, we didn't know." the dragon said, transforming into his dragon form.
The princess took his hand.
"We are coming with you, and explaining all this to Father." the princess said.
I rolled my eyes.
"After 2 years of shenanigans, it's time.
Also, I am happy for you and all that, just leave me out of trouble." I said, leaving.
They laughed, and followed me back to the Capital, where they will hopefully explain to the King what was going on, and I will get my weekends back.
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Dave was worried, his little human was running late from her trip to the mage enclave. He circled around the city from above, trying to detect her mana and struggling. **(Cassie, be safe!)** He scoured the streets with his sight, attempting to glimpse her familiar red hair and silver dress.
His patience was running out by the second, it was almost dusk, she had left the cave at dawn yesterday! That was it, those humans surely did something to Clarisse, he had to rescue her! **(If she's hurt, I'll burn this place into nothing!)** His mouth began sparking with rage.
He started out by setting fire to the several flags and the decorative plaza to show he meant business. Once the humans were stirred, he landed on the main building of the guild, sinking his claws in the roofing. **"Hear well, for I give no second chances!"**
He saw some old humans gather down below, good, this must be the leaders of this place. **"The mage Clarisse, set her free and I shall spare this hovel."** These vermin looked confused, but he would not be fooled, his charge must be in peril.
*"For fuck's sake, is he a moron?"* A woman was pushing her way through the crowd, the overgrown lizard was committing a mistake that would cost her dearly. *"I still got five floors to read through!"* When the dragon craned his neck to threaten the grandmaster, she had to think fast.
A wooden clog hit his nose and he finally heard Clarisse. "Dave! Come on! I just fell asleep in the library, alright?!" The unamused mages watched as the woman picked the footwear and stepped on the dragon's outstretched paw. She turned to face the crowd and bowed her head.
"I apologize for my guardian, he can be overprotective. We'll pay compensation for the mess." Dave pouted at her words, he liked his hoard and didn't want to lose his gold. **"Hey-!"** She poked his chin with her staff to silence his protests. "Shush! You break, you buy, remember?"
The elders demanded extra gold as moral damage, and a vow from the dragon to not wreck the place again, with a counter vow to keep the woman safe during her visits. With things settled relatively amicably, Clarisse kept her right to visit and Dave got a dent in his savings. "Let's go home, I'm sleepy."
The dragon unfurled his wings and took off in a gale. While Clarisse felt happy to know he cared for her, his actions needed to have consequences. "I'll write to Garrett." In fact, she was already drafting the letter in her mind. **"Please, don't."** His elder would whoop his butt for losing his nerves and acting unlike his bloodline. "Too bad, so sad."
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j68kggl
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j68dt6b
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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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Cecil's yawn echoed off the walls of his little watch post. Another day nearly done, and then home to his wife's embrace, a hot meal, and a cozy bed. He rubbed his eyes, trying to force them to stay focused on the distant horizon, but the bright light left him seeing zooming spots and there was one of those frustrating threads of distortion that doesn't go away no matter how many times you blink.
He tried gently tilting his head, side to side, to make them settle out of the middle of his vision, but when his head moved, the thread stayed still. He shook his head gently, trying to clear his eyes and his mind. He took a sip from his canteen, looked in the dark for a moment, and then gently scanned the horizon. On about the third try, the church bell rang. As he turned for the door, he heard a deep, rumbling, polite cough.
"Ahem."
Cecil peeked back in the door, his hand gently gripping the hilt of his sword. Never hurt to be cautious. Before the window sat a large scaly head, a polite smile dancing across its lips.
"Do you know where I might find Sir Alden Darwin?"
The hand dropped from his sword, Cecil quietly returned to the window. If a dragon wanted you dead, you were. He was not dead, and he hoped to keep it that way. "I'm afraid he has been captured, ransomed by privateers."
"What?!" Flames danced between the dragon's teeth, as he spat the word, but he caught himself. He gently soothed the now cowering guard before him.
"Steady, steady. I know you're not to blame. Where might I find them?"
Cecil sputtered for a moment - "I could but----" his voice trailed off. He took a deep breath. "While I certainly don't like them, I would not wish them dead. I used the word *captured* with great intent. We have had some rather bloodless encounters with one another lately, and peace seems imminent, but not yet here."
"Hmmmmmmm.........." the pensive sound continued for what seemed like an impossibly long time. "What is your name, brave guard?"
"HA! Cecil the Brave, apparently!"
"Well Cecil the Brave" - he cringed at the idea of trying to explain that he was joking - "I, Glassmaker promise to you that I will do everything within my power to preserve that peace."
"No killing." Cecil wished he could've sewn his own mouth shut as soon as the words tumbled out.
Glassmaker tilted his head slightly, and a smile flashed across his lips, showing a staggering number of glittering white teeth. "Cecil the Brave indeed! Very well Cecil. A friend of Alden is a friend of mine. I cannot promise you no killing, but I can promise you that it will be my last resort."
A claw as long as Cecil's forearm poked through the window, and it took him a moment to realize that Glassmaker had extended his pinky, and wanted to shake on it.
"Deal!" Cecil's grin was wider than his whole head. "They can't have taken him far. They have 3 castles dotted up the coast, starting 100 miles north of here."
Glassmaker's running start took him to the air with staggering speed. His voice boomed "When I return, we will have to discuss when you can visit for tea!"
The adrenaline still pounding in his ears, Cecil half walked, half staggered home shaking like a leaf the whole way. Who could he tell? Would they believe him? He stopped. Tea. What do you bring a dragon as a housewarming gift? He grinned to himself. "Guess I'll just have to ask Alden when he gets back!"
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It had been eighteen years since I last saw Bre'teria, and in that time, I'd never once heard her call me 'her' human.
"Do not test my patience!" Her great silver-scaled form bellowed, her wings flared with her fangs bared. "I shall reduce you and your ilk to nothing if you do not comply!"
Baron Crawford, a fat and pompous man of self import, balked at the threat with what looked like a boar leg in his hand. It seemed like he was actually considering freeing his captive for a moment before his sneer crept out. He took a disgustingly large bite of cooked boar meat and had the audacity to actually laugh at the majestic creature at his gates.
"I think not." He crowed before swallowing, standing at the edge of his hundred-foot tall wall around his estate. "Not without some...incentive."
His cackles were drowned out by the bellow of one pissed off dragoness. "Incentive!? The impudence! I shall rend flesh from bone, sunder your lands and salt your fields! Your incentive is that I shall be quick if you release my. Fucking. Human!"
I honestly expected the argument to go on longer, but Bre'teria smashing the castle gates. The deafening impact shook me from the top of the wall. Crawford fell on his ass in the most undignified way.
The slaughter that ensued was horrifying and glorious. Rather than kill the fools before her as a dragon, Bre'teria cast a spell on herself to make her human.
Gods, that silver hair was as mesmerizing as the last time I saw her.
It took her minutes to tear through Crawford's guards with her bare hands. She was a blur of Amazonian splendor as she kept true to her word. Limbs flew whimsically through the air as the cries of grown men echoed around the Baron.
Each spray of blood on his courtyard paled him by another shade.
"M-make her stop..." He cowered as he crawled on his knees toward me. His gems, gold, and jewelry scraped against the stone. A lone ornate dagger rested at his hip.
It was at this point I thought fitting to reveal I'd liberated myself from the chains that shackled me. His idiocy was abundant, and I felt responsible for making him aware. "No? You pissed off a dragon. I couldn't stop her if I wanted. You imprisoned me for my reputation alone, yet made no effort to prepare for the feats I'm renown for. Why would I worsen the world by letting a fool like you pollute it?"
+++++++++
"Leave it to a man to grow impatient and finish first." Bre'teria's airy sweet tones rippled across the stone. Even veiling her presence as a human, she was brimming with power and majesty.
And sass.
"My lady," I bowed after tucking the last of the dead baron's rings in my pocket, "I would never dare to offend you in the same way twice."
She stared with a sultry smirk a half a dozen paces from me, her lean arms crossed over her chest. "No, I'll be seeing to that." Her tone was borderline threatening. I didn't doubt she spotted me pocketing the jewelry I'd looted, so I wasn't certain what deserved this response.
The next few minutes ticked by as she stared me down uncomfortably. For her? For me? Possibly both. I certainly felt knots in my stomach.
"Why did you really save me?" I asked with a timidity I hadn't shown since my apprenticeship. "Your human? Your fucking human? When did that happen?"
She hissed as her eyes glowed with her magic. For a second, her draconian fangs were bared before she composed herself. She was proud, even by the standards of her kind, so such a confession was probably wounding.
"When the egg that held your daughter began to hatch. It takes eighteen years for a dragon egg to mature. I thought you'd like to be there when she's born."
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jdbcqfq
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jdadnnb
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[WP] A mark on your forehead identifies the god you must worship to stay alive, usually by joining its local church or temple. Your mark is unknown, meaning an old, forgotten god sponsored you. To survive, you must either find an old temple to worship at, or do the arduous task of building a new one
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When multi-millionaire Alfred Talbot Jr suddenly found a mark of an unknown god on his forehead and announced his resignation, the whole world was taken by surprise.
While the public at large was busy gossiping, occult detective Katrina Watson was busy poring through a well-known publication of the Holy Inquisition, Annals of the Pantheons, trying to find a god's mark or sigil that matched the one on Alfred's forehead. Alfred's co-founder had hired her to investigate what was happening; citing an old tale where marked chosen ones must worship to stay alive or risk a horrible death. He feared the worst, that he could lose his best friend and co-founder before Alfred could even find the god in question or the right way to worship the god.
So she spent her days tailing Alfred as he drove around the countryside, stopping at every seaside village and town to ask the locals questions about the inky black mark on his forehead. He never stayed for longer than a few days, leaving each village and town with a dejected look on his face.
He hasn't left this fishing village in over a week, constantly pacing back and forth between the Dancing Crab Inn and a burned, abandoned building, standing all alone by itself at the top of a hill. Alfred spent most of his time trying to piece together broken pieces of stone at the base of the building with various tools he bought from the general store.
Katrina saw it was time to make her move.
"Hello Mr. Talbot, I'm Katrina, an occult detective hired by your partner Mr. Andrews to assist you."
"Good, finally someone who knows a little about the supernatural world." Alfred gave her a firm handshake. "Nobody recognizes this mark on my head, my only lead is that a villager told me this is probably the sigil of a god of the seas, given the wavy appearance. But this sigil doesn't match anything in the Pantheon Database. It's as though this god was scrubbed clean from historical records."
"Why this building, Mr Talbot?" Katrina asked.
Alfred told her how an old compass his grandfather passed down to him started glowing mysteriously when he arrived at the village. He spoke of what he found out from the villagers. This building was once a pagan church, burnt down by the Holy Inquisition for worshipping an evil eldritch god and carrying out the illegal practice of human sacrifice centuries ago. The story was that they left no followers alive and completely wiped out the religion, leaving nothing behind but the briefest mention of an unknown god with no name and a scorched, ruined church nobody would pay to tear down.
Exactly what he was looking for. So he spent his time repairing the altar in the middle of the ruins but had absolutely no clue what he could offer to a god who supposedly demanded human sacrifices.
"Try a lamb, Mr. Talbot. Maybe we could drive down to the nearest sheep farm and buy a lamb."
Alfred shook his head. "I don't think this is an Abrahamic god at all. If he or she were, I would not be stuck here."
So they bought a live lamb and paid the farmer to transport the little thing to the altar. The farmer scratched his head but asked no questions. Alfred and Katrina tied the lamb and hoisted it on the top of the newly repaired altar.
"Mr. Talbot, any prayers you recommend? I've been a naytheist all my life. Never had a god mark me or desire anything from me."
Alfred wasn't responding, only gazing into the faraway nowhere as a black abyssal portal pooled out beneath the altar and dark tendrils emerged to pull the lamb in. He wasn't there with Katrina.
For he was staring into the abyss when it stared back with a pair of deep violet eyes. He found himself gazing into a mesmerizing sea of stars scattered across the endless night sky, bare feet trudging along the ebony sand along the shores of a blackened sea darker than the night.
A sea of serenity and calm came over him as the ashen waves of the black sea washed over him. he could feel abyssal magic flowing into his mind, infusing him with a sliver of knowledge of his god. A barely audible whisper echoed in his ears, instilling in him a burning passion for the arduous task that lay ahead of him. A strong sense of purpose he never found before.
"Why am I your chosen one," Alfred asked. "Will it kill me if I refuse?" But the whispers were already fading, for his god was terribly weakened.
"ALFRED ARE YOU WITH ME?" Katrina shouted while shaking him with both her hands on his shoulders.
"Yes. Katrina. I have a god who needs so much help. My god was exiled from his pantheon. The Holy Inquisition has wronged him, they could not look past his eldritch appearance or his past when they persecuted him and erased him from their annals of the gods. They have robbed him of his artifacts of power. Tore his body asunder. Murdered his followers, even young children who could not fight back. As his chosen one and anointed head priest, I will rebuild his body, rebuild his church, and rebuild his place in this world."
"Mr. Talbot, so you're telling me your god is some flavor of 'not evil just misunderstood'. Look, as long as Mr. Andrews is paying, I'll help you. That stuff you said, it all sounds very cool and awesome, I really feel your roaring gungho vibe here, but did you get your god's name?"
"He asked me to call him Lord Elvari."
-------------------------------------------
[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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I bear the mark of a traitor.
His name was not forgotten, fading into obscurity by means of time and distance. No, his name seems to have been rent from the very cloth of history itself. Eras are needed for a god to truly die. He was mentioned naught but a century ago.
The people saw his mark on my wrist and said I should be ostracized. That any of his followers were a lost cause, and should stay that way. There was a reason he was not talked about anymore, after all, though no one quite knew what it was. My parents would hear none of it. They had a solemn, resigned look in their eyes as they cradled my pudgy infant form, as if they had just seen me die right there in their arms. I grew up with that mark as a tormentor, a constant reminder that I would be doomed to mortality. Or, rather, as I later found out, could be doomed to mortality.
See, I never gave up on the mission to find a temple. The fact that I could find mentions of his name at all were testament to the fact that such places of worship might still exist. His record was purged, but not stripped clean. There was one text, very old, that described a love forever unrequited, sealed by death and defiance against the gods. It mentioned an older name of his, but it also mentioned all the other gods. And how they were the ones who banished him.
There was supposedly a Magryean seal on the shrine, so I spent my youth exploring and charting the forests, as that was the sealing god's domain. As the sands of my hourglass began to run low, I wandered into a town, not on any map, with marks of all kinds on the wrists of its denizens. And though my brain said it was a trick of the light at first, I eventually confirmed that there were about six who bore his mark here. A few looked young, some looked older than I did. But as I looked for a temple, I came up empty-handed. That was, until I wandered into the surrounding forest.
The petrified woman that stood before me was hauntingly beautiful. Vines wrapped up her legs and bloomed into bright yellow flowers, and there seemed to be a calm in the surrounding area. Birds and deer made not a sound, and the otherwise silent grove was only serenaded by a babbling brook.
All of a sudden, I was wracked with intense grief. I began sobbing, but I wasn't sobbing for my doomed fate. Nor was I sobbing for my ostracization by my peers, and having no friends to speak of. Nor was I sobbing for my wasted youth and life chasing a horizon I could never reach, and would now die alone. Though I felt all that sorrow, that was not the reason I was sobbing. This was someone else's grief I was feeling.
A man in a dusty old cloak seemed to appear out of nowhere in front of me. He had the look of a drifter, someone who had no home and wasn't about to look for one now. His hair was a silvery white, and a beard and an eyepatch were his only defining features. He spoke with an authority that was hard to place, but all too familiar...
"Her story broke your heart too? Yeah, it's a real downer. I wish I had been there to keep such a beautiful woman from getting torn apart like that. Y'know, petrification like that only happens when a soul is ripped from a body. Not many people can seem to remember that nowadays..."
I could not mask my confusion. "Who... Are you, exactly? Have we met?" He smirked, a gesture lacking in malice but betraying knowledge. "Well, who do *you* think I am? After all, you've been looking for me all this time." I paused. This couldn't be him, could it? Was this his shrine? Then, in a flash, it began to make sense. He was the one who couldn't save this woman. He was blamed for his faults and exiled. He was torn from the pages of history.
The god once again smirked, seeming proud of himself. "So, I take it you figured it out? This is not a shrine to greatness. I'm not allowed those anymore. This is a shrine to my greatest failure, one I regret to this day. But, I'm sure you already knew that. That sorrow you felt? That was but a fraction of mine."
I immediately bowed, a sense of purpose coming over me from years of training for this moment. He quickly straightened me out and gave a faux stern look. "Now, now, we don't do that here. I don't believe in it anymore. We are less different than you think. Think of us less of a god and a mortal and more of a broker and a client. I help you, you help me. And believe me, I can help you..."
I felt weightless for but an instant. Then, I woke up somewhere new.
I was young again, and aware for the first time. I looked to my wrist, and saw his mark there, as it had always been. But, I found no wrinkles on my skin. It was young and supple, as was the rest of me. My mind drifted back to the conversation I had with my god before our deal truly began.
"Now, I'm going to switch your soul with a version of yourself who is younger. He will live out here with me, and you will go on with your life. You will learn as much as you can about the other gods, and you will report back to me with any developments." I nodded. Then a question cropped up. "But how will I find a temple to you? They were nearly all destroyed." The god smirked again, seeming to revel in this fact. "That's the neat part about this. The only reason the other gods needed temples is because they were so far away. I, obviously am not very far away. All you need to do is say my name in prayer to extend your life."
His name! I can't believe I never got his name! "What is your name, exactly? It was weirdly absent from all records, and all that was left was pseudonyms and epithets." The god smirked again. "Another trick they play. I can't connect with you without a name can I? But, I'm much older than the others. Much more powerful. My original name could end the world in an instant..."
"But you, you may call me Gorias."
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jx0fhv4
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jx06io3
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[WP] One man "hears" from God. Another from Satan. Both think they hear from God.
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TRAE AND HIS GIRLFRIEND ARE STUCK IN A CROWDED ESCALATOR.
TRAE:
We should have taken the stairs.
GF:
Well, it's too late now.
TRAE:
People on stairs are moving quicker than this thing.
TRAE LOOKS OVER TO THE CUE AT THE LIFT.
GF:
Trae...
TRAE:
We could have waited for the lift. We would have reached by now.
TRAE'S GF IS FEELING UNCOMFORTABLE.
GF:
Trae!
TRAE:
What's up?
GF WHISPERS TO TRAE.
GF:
The guy behind me is pressing up too close to me.
TRAE:
Ok,let me talk to him. Sir,could you back up a little?
GUY BEHIND:
I don't have space to move bro.
TRAE:
My gf is not comfortable with you standing so close to her. She has been pushing you away for a while but you keep falling on her.
GUY BEHIND:
Your gf is not the only one on the escalator. She has to deal with this.
TRAE IS TRIGGERED.
TRAE PUSHES HIM FROM HIS GF.
GUY BEHIND:
Heyy! How dare you put yours hands on me?
GUY BEHIND PUNCHES TRAE RIGHT IN THE FACE.
PEOPLE TRY TO BREAK THE FIGHT.
PEOPLE ON THE ESCALATOR:
Guys,stop it. This is not a right place to fight.
THE “GUY BEHIND" AND TRAE HAVE GRABBED ON TO EACH OTHER SHIRT COLLARS.
TRAE:
I am going to kill you man.
THE “GUY BEHIND" LOOSES GRIP OF TRAE'S COLLAR FALLS ON A GRANDPA STANDING BEHIND HIM.
ONE BY ONE EVERYONE -KIDS,MOTHERS HOLDING THEIR BABIES, GRANDPARENTS WHO COULD BARELY GET ON THE ESCALATOR IN THE FIRST PLACE,START FALLING.
PEOPLE TRY TO GET BACK UP USING OTHERS AS SUPPORT.
THIS MAKES IT WORSE.
TRAE AND HIS GF REACH TO THE TOP OF THE ESCALATOR.
TRAE LOOKS BACK AT WHAT HE STARTED.
TRAE:
Well...that “escalated" quickly.
TRAE chuckles.
GF LOOKS HORRIFIED.
TRAE (TO HIMSELF):
That was funny.
|
It was a normal day, sunny with hardly a cloud in the skies above. A perfect day to take the dog on a walk and pick wild berries.
As we started the walk, the dog starts to bark at one of the bushes, only for a monarch butterfly to be simply sitting there, flapping it's wings. I picked a few berries near it and ate a few to make sure they were still ripe and had not started to sour.
When I looked back at the butterfly a few minutes after doing so there was now two of them. I looked down at the dog and said, "look another one landed next to it."
That's when I looked back and there was now four of them. I thought to myself odd, but not worrisome. They all looked identical in shape, pattern, everything. That's when I noticed it.
Each time I looked away from one, the rest had started to split into two. I thought good thing the butterfly affect is not actually proven to be butterflies causing disasters. That was the mistake. . .
As one had turned into 128 before I could even realize, or be able to count them as they multiplied. They all stood still for a moment, and then in sync they all flapped their wings once. That's when a storm cloud formed overheard and the sound of tornado sirens could be heard in the distance. The ground started to rumble and I could tell something bad was about to happen.
As I looked to the ground to make sure it wasn't going to open beneath my feet, I saw a shadow form overhead slowly getting bigger and bigger. When I looked up, I saw an ice cream truck and thought it was no tornado siren but a distorted playing of the ice cream jingle.
Everything went black, and I woke up laying on the ground mildly poisoned from the berry and thought it had been a dream. . . That was until a monarch butterfly floated by and landed on my hand, and another shadow formed overhead. . .
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lnsqdmw
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lnsn78y
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[WP] You're the host of a popular talk show "I Was There" where vampires come to talk about historical events they were witnesses of. One day a vampire says something truly shocking.
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SHITPOST
"... and I believe that many in this world are made out to be far worse than they truly are. There are many people who deserve some praise, like Adolf Hitler"
You could have heard a pin drop. Jonathan Myer slowly looked up from his list of questions and blinked several times.
“I beg your pardon,” He said. “Did you just say Adolf Hitler?”
“Yes, have you heard of him?” came the enthusiastic reply from Frederick Schäfer. “I’m surprised, I did not expect his work to be well know outside of Austria”
“His… work?” Came the slow response from Myer.
“Yes, when I was still teaching at the Academy of Fine Arts I got a look at some of it. It was nothing spectacular, but for someone with so little proper schooling, I thought there was promise”
Myer, for his part, slowly put his list down on the table. A quick glance at the audience was the only sign of the turmoil bubbling beneath his composure.
“It is unfortunate,” continued Frederick, “You must understand, art is an ever changing landscape. At that point, the art scene was moving away from the type of work that he was doing. Sadly, I feel out of contact with him when I went off have a snooze around ‘09, I am a notorious over sleeper, you see”
At this, Myer physically relaxed. It felt like a great pressure had just been released from the studio. There was a smattering of relieved sighs from the audience.
“So you are not aware of his entry into politics?”
“No, I was not. Politics was such a minefield when I woke up in ‘56 that I never followed up on him. Why, it was only five years after that that those funny Russian fellows had the wall put up. I tell you, it was most inconvenient to visit my niece in Berlin only to find a big slab of concrete in the way. The place was enough of a maze with all those new buildings, honestly, you would think that they had had a war in the downtown.”
Myer slumped back in his chair and rubbed his temples. “Maybe this show wasn’t such a good idea,” he muttered under his breath.
|
“And back to I was There. We have yet another member of the Vampire community with us who wants to share a story.” Lucas said and pointed towards the booth with drawn curtains. “He is shy and we indulge him, as his story will rock off your socks. I bet his story will beat the current fan favourite of Hitler’s demise.”
Camera slowly panned from Lucas to the booth and then pushed in to the visible hands, which had long nails resembling claws and the skin was weathered like that of a lumberjack. Lucas said, “So, what is your name for convenience?” The voice was clear and strong but faltered, as if it was something he seldom did. “Let’s just say, Jack. My real name is hard to pronounce for modern people.” “Ooh, modern people. How quaint.”
Lucas walked to the barstool next to the booth and sat on it. “So, Jack. The floor is yours.” There was a silence for a few moments and microphone captured some clearing of throat and drinking sounds. “Well. I am here on the insistence of elders of our community and my tale is not all that special, but they get a kick out of it. So imagine this, a garden, so perfect garden you would pay to just get a glimpse. Now imagine a couple living there, buck naked and happy like a child would be. I was just passing by from the land of Nod when I noticed this oasis in the desert.”
Lucas interrupted, “Excuse me, but land of nod? Where is that?” “By Tigris, in the Sumer.” “What might that place be today?” “Today? Well, I have not kept up with geography, but last I visited there people called themselves Persians.” Lucas realised he did not know what story the guest was going to tell, but what his aides presented did not match with the current tale.
“Any way, there was a funny snake, and they shared a pomegranate when this old guy ran in there hollering and yelling like crazy. It might have been his garden, as he threw the pair out of it. So there I was and as the pair just had some leaves for clothes, so I felt compelled to help them out.” “You helped them? I am afraid to ask, but did you ask for their names?
“I think I did, but it was a long time ago. It was something biblical.” Lucas gulped and said, “Adam and Eve?” “Adam, yeah, that was the name, but the other was Steve.”
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lgmv7y1
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lgmtdos
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[WP] The genie tries to warn you of the implications before you cut him off, "I have no intention of wishing for it, but hypothetically, could you grant it?" you ask. "Yes, technically" the genie relents.
|
\- *So... that means I can wish for the light speed to be lower than sound speed?*
\- *Yes, but Master, remember..*
\- *As I said, I have no intention to wish for it. But just to be clear... so I can also wish for light speed to not be constant? For causality to not exist? For the Electron to be the same size and charge as the Proton? For mass to disappear? These are all possible?*
\- *...Yes...* \- I could feel the trembling in the voice of a thousand-year being, far higher than I could ever imagine. I could see myself reflected in his immense eyes, and with me, the whole universe within, reaching far than it was supposed to be possible. To decipher these eyes meant deciphering all the secrets in the universe, for he, himself, could bend the rules at will, making what was certain and absolute completely chaotic and relative.
I could wish for that full knowledge, but I knew, full well, that it would mean madness and the breaking of all physics and possibly all science that ever existed. I knew that, and I knew the risks, but it didn't matter now.
For his answers were all I needed to understand the secret: that **everything** was relative, even speed of light, even physics. And his eyes were able to show me what **wasn't**. So I would wish for that only Absolute to cease to exist.
*- Genie... for my first, and only wish, I wish...*
*- Be careful, Master, for that...* \- but I wasn't listening
\- *for YOU to never exist. Not "disappear from now on", for you to* ***never even being*** *in the first place. Every wish you granted to cease, every consequence in time and space to be fixed,* ***everything*** *related to you to cease to be - even yourself.*
The universe trembled. The sky collapsed. The genie... glitched, for the lack of a better word, being higher than the whole universe itself, and also smaller than a grain of sand, all at the same time. In a fraction of a fraction of a millisecond, I was everything, then I was nothing, then I was the genie, then I was the atom.
And then, everything fade to black.
\---
In a place far outside a place, in time far outside the time, a Being woke up. His infinite eyes blinked the universe out of existence, still feeling the touch and sensations and emotions in his vast, infinite body, in infinite moments that the Being resided.
If the Being could talk, and if the Words could be heard, and the Meaning could be translated... everything would probably collapse into just:
>*That's interesting...*
And with that in the Being's infinite minds, it was time to sleep again.
|
The lamp was old, its golden brass tarnished by time, a relic from some bygone era. I had found it in a dusty antique shop, very much drawn to it like a moth to a flame. There was something about it— a sort of promise of something more; something different if you will. And tonight, in the quiet solitude of my small apartment, I was about to find out if that baseless intuition is true.
I rubbed the lamp, its now polished surface ice to the touch. A plume of smoke erupted, and a figure materialized, shimmering and ethereal. It was a genie, his form shifting and changing, a constant flux of light and shadow. His eyes held the weight of millennia; I could very well be mistaking minutes for hours if I stared any longer.
"One wish," the now materialised pink bearded genie intoned, its voice a deep, resonant cadence.
"Don't genies typically allow three wishes?"
"Three wishes are too powerful to bestow upon anyone— the balance of the universe gets disrupted. I could show you records, if you'd like. But that'll cost you a wish."
Can't argue against that. "Nah," I replied, still formulating a sound wish in my head. "Though, I have no intention of wishing for this, but hypothetically, could you grant it?" I continued.
"Yes, I could technically grant anything. Barring the obvious disparity of extra wishes and any conceivable loopholes."
"If I could begin to be, half of what she thinks of me," I began, my voice barely audible. "That, actually. Could you at least make me half of what she thinks of me? I could do about anything; I could even be her man."
The genie stopped in place, closed his eyes, and began chanting a hymn far beyond the comprehension of a mere human's hearing. If I could make a blind conjecture, I'd say that he's currently trying to make sense of what that "half" is.
"You have quite the poignant self-assessment of yourself," the genie replied, its voice a gentle counterpoint to the portrait of internal turmoil that is my mind. "Perception is a fickle mistress. Technically, I could turn you into half of what she thinks of you."
"Great. Do it then."
"Here I thought you had no intention of wishing for it?"
"That question served as a preface. You should know that anyone who asks you a similar question would wish for the very thing they said they're not gonna wish."
The genie, finally opening his cosmic, ethereal eyes, shot a worried glance at me. His eyebrows practically touched each other as he unfurled his lips. "Do you really wanna turn into an ant?"
"A-an... ant?"
"Yep."
"Fuck."
"You're a hopeless romantic, dude. I'll go out on a limb and say it myself."
😸😸😸😸😸
r/KittenMantra <- Check out my portfolio of writing prompts submissions if you liked this one!
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j42a6tl
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j4276st
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[WP] Your little sister wakes you up and says that she thinks there's a monster in the house. The tall creature with glowing eyes, horns, and claws right by her looks just as terrified, and agrees.
|
Nestled under blankets, finally asleep... Until Millie's voice shouted out. Tearing the blanket off of me.
"BOBBY IT'S HERE ITS HERE!"
She was in hysterics, clawing her way up into my bed, which was, a bit too tall for her to reach... I was still half asleep...
"What's here, Millie... What..." The act of sitting up dislodged her... Before reaching down a tired pair of arms to help her...
Rubbed my eyes, gave myself a pat on the face, sighed, and repeated. Less groggily this time. Sister waiting impatient, but quietly.
"What is it- OH SHI-!" As my eyes had finally woken up I had noticed the large monstrosity. Horns. Shaggy coat. Tail. Peering in from the door frame, wandering inside disappointedly
Falling out of bed in my surprise, fumbling under my pillow for my pocket knife-
"NO! THATS JUST FLUFFY!"
I stared at her dumbfounded... Dropping the weapon to put a hand to my head and let out a long exhale... Pinching the bridge of my nose...
"Mom told you no kni-"
"Fluffy?! Milly where.... WHAT?!"
"I've been feeding him on the back porch all week. And he was so cold and hungry... But he's very friendly! And look he's scared too! He saw it too! But we aren't TALKING about Fluffy right now!"
The "animal" looked more hungry and curious than scared...
"Milly you can't just let-"
"THIS ISN'T ABOUT FLUFFY!" She roared, stomping a foot.
In the pause that followed my hair stood on end.... A haunting weeping sound from downstairs. Milly pressing herself against my back, hiding.
I had a hunch...
"Is that it?" I asked, standing up and making my way to the door, beast sniffing around the room, but kindly moving out of the way... It was at least somewhat tame.
I motioned for her to follow. And she did... If slowly and shyly.
"It came out from under my bed..." She sniffled, her voice a timid whisper. Head bobbing slowly as we made our way downstairs.
I opened her door, turning on the light to a flood of alien like gibberish and chattering. Like the hooting and screaming of a monkey... They looked like monkeys too. It was shouting and screaming but for the most part, was simply tucked helplessly in the corner of the room.
I sighed more annoyed and unimpressed than terrified...
Milly on the other hand was just as hysterical as the creature on her floor.
It was a lot like a monkey... Only tailless. 4 long spindly spider like limbs covered in a, nearly white, pale skin with a dark mop of fur on the top of it's head... It wore a piece of clothing on its bottom half and held a blanket tightly.
"It's just another pest, that's why you keep that trap under your bed."
I looked around her room a moment before I found it. A small disk. Of course... the Shrike probably dug it straight out of the floor.
Anti. Human. Protection. Field. written in big bold letters on the front.
"Little ones like this are harmless. I had one under my bed when I was little..."
I explained giving the human a soft nudge with my foot.
"We just have to-"
It slammed towards me and scrambled. Eyes darting looking for a place to escape to. Running towards the door.
"Shit, grab it!" I was racing towards it now, reaching an arm out, but it was faster.
It was no taller than Milly and promptly shoved her out of the way.
It's feet had no sooner touched the hallway floor when the beast from upstairs had pounced on it.
A short lived scream was all the child could shout out before the Shrike delivered a killing blow...
I was gonna be traumatized for... At least a week now. Shrike reveling in the task it was practically born to do.
"YAY! SEE! LOOK! LOOK! WHAT DID I TELL YOU? FLUFFY IS A GOOD BOY YES HE IS!" She ran over to it, petting its fur, not at all disturbed by the bloody scene.
There was gonna be a LOT of paperwork involved...
"Mom's gonna kill us... And let that Shrike outside!"
"OH BUT CAN'T WE ADOPT HIM!"
I was too tired for this shit. I sighed and made my way to the phone in the kitchen. Just another night...
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"There's a monster in my closet."
The voice that rouses me is sweet and familiar. Bleary, I shift my head to the side to see her, a little cherub with bed head floating over her eyes and cute, rosy cheeks.
"Monsters aren't real," I grunt, unwilling to drag myself from my comfort.
"They are!" she stresses with a whine that strains against the limit of her inside voice. Her pout is somehow both severe and adorable. The impish part of me wants to make fun of her for it, but I can tell she's upset. "C'mon, get up."
As tiny hands start shoving at my flank, I sigh and laugh in equal measure, resigned to the disturbance. "Okay, Mary, I'll get up." Little sisters, am I right?
I slide out of bed, and her hand takes mine. It's cooler than I thought it'd be. Was she actually that scared? Poor thing. But she's brave, judging by the way she pulls me forward. It's sweet how my big brother energy emboldens her against the monsters of her imagination.
Still booting up and my eyelids still heavy, I find my shuffling steps make the trip down the hall take longer than usual. By the time the door opens, I'm going through the routine in my head: check the closet, shoo the dust bunnies under the bed, then tuck her in with her favorite teddy.
"All right, Mary, let's get you to bed," I say as I tug gently to guide her into the room, looking down at her mop of hair. I know she's afraid, but I find the situation endearing, laughing on the inside from how cute she is. I'll keep her safe.
But, when I look at the bed, there's something wrong. Backlit by the street lights, a black mass far too large to fit through the door is seated on the bed. The outline is bristled like fur, and the silhouette is broken by sharp prongs jutting from its head. And the eyes... Golden and sharp, deep and entrancing.
"Wh-what the shit?" I whisper, too stunned to be afraid. I clutch Mary's hand. It's still cold. She's so afraid.
"Make it go away!" she cries. Her voice is a raspy whisper, still using her inside voice. Such a polite sister.
I start to look to her. I need to make sure she's safe from the beast. The moment my eyes stray is when the beast lunges. A moment of distraction, and now it has my throat in its grasp.
I'm going to die.
"Mary! Run!" I call. I am not using my inside voice. I'm a naughty big brother.
I release Mary's hand so I can grab the beast by the wrist and brace my weight, putting everything into kicking blindly at the creature's ribs. I hear the thud, but it's no good. As I struggle, I try to turn my head. I need to find Mary. I have to keep her safe.
Dark fingers squeeze my chin and deny me. The grip is warm and strong. Those golden eyes fill my vision, piercing and ...afraid?
"Don't look." Its growls, words, are halting and pleading.
I try anyway. I swing a hand down, trying to reach Mary. She needs her big brother. My grip finds something cold, but it isn't her soft, scared hand. It's metal and heavy, and the grip is textured against my palm. Even having no experience with one, I can tell it's a gun. Mary, you shouldn't have guns. They're dangerous.
The golden eyes widen, shaking just a little. It knows. Desperate to keep its life, the beast paws and pats at me, but it still won't let me go. It won't let me see her. I need to pull the trigger.
"Think." The growl is pitched, stressed.
That single word brings me to myself. I start to notice details. The golden eyes making up most of my vision have horizonal pupils, like a goat, instead of the roundness of a predator. If this beast wanted me dead, why grab me when its claws would be faster? Even in its grip, I feel the paw-like texture of its fingers instead of the sharpness of its claws, as if it were careful not to cut me.
"Big brother! Make it go away!" Mary is still there. She's crying. I need to help her.
"What is your name?" the beast demands. "Make it tell you."
What? It? Did the beast mean Mary? Of course she knows who I am. I'm her big brother.
I feel her tug at my wrist. Her cold little hands are trying so hard. "Please, big brother! Please! Shoot the bad thing! Make it go away, brother!"
I know where she is now. She's there, and I know what I need to do.
I pull the trigger.
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llwpl4d
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llwo8um
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[WP]You were a beloved ruler of your country. When the evil king/ queen tried to conquer your country, you fought to the death to protect your country. Seeing how much your people loved you, the evil king/ queen proposes that you two marry to merge your countries. You accept for your country's sake.
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"I do not make this offer lightly," says the Queen.
I do not look up. I cannot bear to see her sit upon my throne. I keep my eyes fixed upon the marble floor. The booted feet of her guards shift heavily in my peripheral vision, grinding grit into the halls of my fathers.
I will not weep. I have already wept.
The point of a sword slides beneath my chin, slim and clean, forcing my head up. It is tempting to let it slide into my throat. But instead I look up, swallowing instinctively against the tip of the blade. Pale eyes gaze at me evenly from a soot-smudged face, dark curls clinging to her brow with sweat. She has removed her helm--it rests upon the arm of the throne, scored with battlemarks--but she is still clad in leathers and chain. The hand that holds the sword to my throat is gauntleted.
"Answer me, King-that-was." Her voice is soft, but I hear it clearly. None gathered in the hall dare to speak.
I cannot turn my head, cannot look beyond her deceivingly slight form, and the bulk of her Praetorian guard. Their helms are still firmly upon their heads; I can see no more of them than the glittering of their eyes. But I can hear the cries of the wounded outside the hall, the moans and muffled weeping of the palace staff behind, the screams of horses from afar, silenced one by one as they are put from their misery. I can smell the blood, the smoke, the sorcerous miasma of ozone. Her gauntlet reeks of it.
It was how she had won.
I swallow again. As long as I live, I am still King; sworn to my people, sworn to my lands. My lands may no longer be my own, but the people are. They will *never* be hers. I love them.
I know what I must do.
"Yes," I say. The tip of the blade etches blood from my Adam's apple as I speak, but I barely feel the pain, only the itching trickle of blood. "I will marry you. For my kingdom."
There is a sob behind me: my mother. I want to close my eyes, but I will not. I keep them locked on the Queen's. She smiles, but does not withdraw the blade. "Wise," she says, then nods at someone behind me. The Court Cleric is hauled forward by his habit and dropped in a heap at my side. "Let us commence."
"Now?" I blurt out.
"Of course." The Queen finally withdraws her sword and begins to pull her gauntlets off, finger by finger, brisk and smooth. "I'm not in the mood to suffer any ill-conceived attempts at rescue or escape. And though your line may have little magic, the land knows you. I'm tired of fighting the trees of the forest and stones of the river. My favorite charger was lamed by a gopher hole--and so was my palfrey. I won't have it." Her hands are free of the gauntlets now; they are pale, and slender. She snaps her fingers, and two rings appear in her palm. "Rise."
I stand. The Cleric is dragged to his feet beside me. Tears stream down his face.
She Queen holds up the rings. She is no longer smiling.
"Begin."
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Our kingdom was at war with the forces of the Empress of Void, a being of unfathomable powers, who is hell-bent in conquering us.
But my people and I...we have fire in our blood, mithril in our backbone.
We rather break than bend, so we are still fighting, till the last of us...for our kingdom, for our lives...
But...it's a useless try...for her armies are endless, and her generals are stronger than our best experts...and she...
She just waltzed into the army tent, and sat atop our war table.
My soldiers reacted instantly, so did the mages, and my uncle, a druid, half-transformed into an earthen dragon.
"Relax, she's here to toy with us, not kill us.
Monster.", I greeted the Empress.
"Foolish king.
I would say, I rather admire your people, dying in droves for you, for your kingdom.", she said.
"The alternative is what? Be under your rule?", I snorted.
"Yep, exactly, so I came with a preposition.", she said.
"Speak.", I said.
"Marry me.", she said.
The tent went deadly silent.
"Before you start to fantasize, you are barely adequate as a man for me, but to be honest with you little king...
My armies are endless, but they are but pets of mine, not real citizens...
I am in need of cute little loyal subjects, that would build, farm, serve me, so...
Because I know that you are good to your people, and that's the main reason I attacked you, for you created an extremely rich kingdom, I offer you this boon.
Marry me, and this body of mine will be yours, while our countries shall merge...
What do you say?", she purred.
My men gulped, but I shook my head.
"Everyone, leave.", I said, and they did so reluctantly, except my uncle who remained on guard.
"You are a half-goddess, aren't you?", I asked, after the tent was emptied.
She smirked, but her gaze turned sharper.
"Smart...so you better answer, or I might take fancy of someone else.", she said, toying with her nails.
"As a half-goddess, you have a deity heart, besides your normal one...if you swear on that heart that you shall allow me to rule inside our territory, our people, while you shall deal with the outside, and the wars, I shall agree.", I said.
"Nephew!", my uncle shouted.
"You are brave.", she said.
"Accept it, or kill us all, and try to find another nation to do what your little demons can't.", I said.
"Hmm, I start to like you...hope your body is as firm as your will...my king.", she purred.
"I shall send an envoy, and our wedding shall be held in a month.
Start taking supplements darling, otherwise I might drain you completely!", she giggled as she left.
"Nephew...none of our men and women would flinch in the face of death!
This...this is unacceptable.", my uncle said.
"I would die for you all, uncle, for my people and kingdom...
But watching you waste away, become toys, slaves, food for her armies of mindless brutes...
This is something I have to do as king, and who knows...I might be able to protect us even better.", I said.
My uncle just sighed.
There were a lot of things to straighten out before...my wedding.
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m3ejv3c
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m3efgjc
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[WP] A princess who is going to be in an arranged marriage runs away. She cuts her hair and pretends to be a man. However, she runs into the prince who was going to get married to her. He also ran away, and he is pretending to be a woman. They instantly recognize eachother.
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My parents wanted me to marry a prince of a foreign land to hitch off their success. Something about joining our kingdoms together to make it stronger. As if they didn’t just want more power to themselves. I didn’t want any part in their political game. Meeting the prince was like meeting a demon. It was very obvious he only cared about my looks and the sum my parents were offering. Their main selling point was my hair. I had kept it long and well kept for all of my life, it was one of the first things people see and notice about me. If I was to run away without anyone finding me, that would be my first step.
I shuddered as I grabbed the shears. I had to be quick, I didn’t know when the shepherd would be back. In one big cut my hair flopped to the ground unceremoniously. Honestly it was disappointing to see years of hair not magically float to the ground or something. I shook my head feeling the lightness. It was weird and off balancing, but manageable. I stole the shepherd’s son’s clothes and ran off.
\
I was hoping to get a decent job but the best I got was a farmhand. Etiquette and running an estate don’t mean much in a village. It was hard to do and I could feel my will wavering but I refused to go back to my parents. I stayed with a nice family who took pity on me. I told them that my parents kicked me out and they took me in.
Well it wasn’t for free, they needed a farmhand so I would work for them and they’d provide me my own room and food. I was taking a break from toiling on the fields when I noticed a young woman looking lost. While I was rather new here, I knew the general locations of most things.
“Hey are you lost?” I called out.
She turned to me, looking a little relieved until she saw my face. I blinked. Our eyes simultaneously filled with recognition.
She-or rather he-tried to run away but the petticoat made it hard for him to see the little bump in the road and he tripped. I ran up to him and watched as he struggled to get up.
“Would you like some help?” I asked awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Yes please,” he said in a soft voice.
If I didn’t know he was the prince, I would’ve thought he was a real girl. I reached out my hand to his and placed the other one under the elbow, lifting him up. It was surprisingly easy, probably thanks to the farm work I’ve been doing.
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I ran away.
As a princess I knew that the day I will have to be married away will come, but...
I expected I will have at least a small hand in the decision, but no...my father just betrothed me to a random prince.
I saw a photo, and he wasn't ugly...but I didn't know him!
Thus, changing places with my faithful handmaid, cutting my hair, bandaging up my chest, I ran away as a man.
A dozen towns over, I finally stopped feeling watched, and calmed down.
Going to eat at the restaurant...I ran into a woman.
"Sorr..." we both started, looking at each other, and...froze.
He was the prince I should have married.
Sitting in a private stall, we stared at each other over the food.
Almost at the same time, our stomach growled...making both of us to blush.
We started eating in silence.
"You..." we both started.
"Ladies first." he said.
"Yeah, go ahead." I smiled.
We stared at each other, before bursting into laughter.
We ordered some wine, and the mood improved.
"So, you ran away as well." I said, sipping the wine.
"Yeah...tired of hearing "you should know your place", "be happy you get to marry a human princess."..." he sighed, downing another glass.
I sighed.
"I feel awful that I feel like this...but I would have loved to be treated like that..." I muttered.
He stared at me.
"No, don't get me wrong, I get it it's bad...but I was treated like the gem of the family...spoiled.
Hell, I even brokered an alliance for Father...so when this arranged marriage hit..." I muttered.
He nodded, and poured me some more wine.
"I get it, don't worry...
My life sucked because it was bad all the time...
For you this sucked because you thought your life was nice...but when it mattered, nobody listened.
The fate of royals...of the royals that everybody envies!" he said, gesturing wildly.
I guess he was getting drunk.
I giggled.
"You have a flair for this...and I must say, you look good as a woman." I said.
"Thank you...hair growth potion, and water slimes as breasts.
But you are quite a handsome fella yourself." he said.
I must have drank a bit too much, because I could feel the heat in my cheeks.
He must have also felt a bit hot, as he was also completely blushed.
"A-Anyway, happy to meet someone I know in these parts...
Maybe we could work together, you know, only to make sure we outsmart our families." he said.
I nodded.
We parted ways, but later we met at the inn...our rooms were next to each other.
Our lives in this remote town started...rather nicely, at least, I wasn't alone.
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kz8giuo
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kz7ti1m
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[WP] You are one of the most dangerous villain in the world of heroes, also known as The Death. One day you received a letter from Make-A-Wish requesting you to visit a sick child.
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Precision.
It is what separates success from failure.
The man in front of me crumpled to the ground, clutching at his chest. The smell of burnt meat wafted from his corpse as a small puff of smoke escaped his lips. His coronary arteries had been cauterized and sealed. The lack of blood flow did the rest. Super powers were a marvelous thing, and while being able to manipulate heat wasn't terribly uncommon, being able to do it on something you couldn't see? That was rare. To be able to do it within the body of another person? That required very specific understanding of anatomy and physiology. I didn't know anyone else that could do it. As far as I knew, I was unique.
I stepped over the body to the computer terminal on his desk. With the help of a portable drive loaded hacking programs that I didn't even pretend to understand, I had started the transmission of funds to a proxy account in Bangladesh. From there it would go to another account in Syria, then across the ocean - *BUZZ* - my phone alerted me to a new message. I pulled it from my pocket as the money from this now bankrupt company bounced from country to country.
*Dear Mr. Death* -
*I am writing you on behalf of a young girl named Maribelle who is a patient suffering from glioblastoma...*
The letter went on telling me of an 11-year old girl who had had blonde hair, loved climbing trees and playing with her little brother. She had had a spell of seizures last fall, and her workup at the pediatric hospital demonstrated terrible inoperative cancer. She was dying, and for some reason when the Make-A-Wish foundation took up her case, she had decided that instead of going to Disneyworld, or meeting Taylor Swift or something, she wanted to see me. How on earth had they found out how to message me? My finger swung for the 'Delete' button - firstly, it's not "Mr. Death", I didn't go to 4 years of medical school, and then through residency to be called "Mister", it was "Dr. Death" if anything, medical board be damned. I hesitated, my finger a millimeter from the screen of the device. *DING* - the computer displayed a message indicating that the transfer had been successful. I shoved my phone into a pocket and grabbed the external drive a moment before the computer burst into flames. I walked out a door onto a balcony 40 stories above the busy New York skyline, then vaulted over side, caught by a rising column of hot air that bore me away from the building, leaving only a flaming office suite in my wake.
Hours later, I stood in a quiet hospital room, illuminated only by the numerous displays that told a sad story of a futureless child. Medication to keep her comfortable, to maybe buy a few extra days with her parents or friends. I poked briefly at one of the machines, the medication stopping. A few moments later, Maribelle's eyes fluttered as she awoke. She noticed my dim outline in the dark.
"You're him, aren't you", it wasn't a question. I stepped closer to the bedside, trying to remember how to smile in a comforting way, but probably failing.
"Yes, I am. I uh... I brought you some flowers", I said, gesturing to the table nearby, "Why did you ask for me to come? Is it getting too difficult?"
She looked away, a strange expression on her face, "No. It's... it's my parents. They think I can't hear when I'm asleep, but... I can. They fight about me, blaming each other for my cancer, the bills ... everything. It makes my brother cry. I just thought, maybe you could uhm. Maybe if I wasn't... maybe then they wouldn't be this way."
The machinery around her alarmed, set off by a change in her vital signs. I quickly adjusted the flow of the medications, stopping the alarm with the other hand. Maribelle's eyes drifted closed, the room once again silent. I stood motionless for several eternal seconds, my breath caught as if I forgotten how to breathe, then pulled out the external drive, plugging it into the hospital terminal next to her bed. My hands danced across the keyboard as the programs gave me access, her laboratory results, CT scans, MRIs and more flashing across the screen. Incidentally, a fire alarm went off three stories above us, the hospital's lockdown protocol triggering, sealing off this wing of the hospital.
With a breath, I stepped to the side of her bed, my arms spread across her from head to toe. The monitor had showed a steady 37 degrees, but as I focused, it slowly fell, degree by degree until her body was cool to the touch, her breathing and heart rate dropping with her temperature. At the nursing station in the hall, alarms blared, but the nurses couldn't get through the fire door, their badges and other attempts futile against my black market programs.
It is easy to kill someone. To kill just a part of someone? Nearly impossible. Anyone else would have failed. But as far as I knew? I was unique. It felt like hours - my focus finding individual cells and heating them just enough to kill off all the proteins they needed to survive, without damaging the surrounding tissue.
The window shattered, and one of those caped fools burst into the room, "Death! Stop whatever you're doing right now! You are under arrest!"
I recognized him - Unity. One of the more popular heroes - had somehow had his consciousness transferred into a swarm of miniature robots. Standard technology hero powers - flight, energy projection, and... skill with technology. It all clicked together. This was how they had figured out how to contact me.
"Did you set this up to lure me here Unity? Why?" I had to keep him talking, had to keep working on Maribelle. I couldn't lose her.
"It was logical. Your history made you vulnerable to this. Cease whatever you're doing or you will be fired upon", his arms transformed into cannons as he raised them toward me, the depths of their barrels glowing a hot red. I flung a hand towards him, and the heat of his weaponry vanished. My focus wavered, but a decade of practice kept me on task.
"I can't stop now you idiotic stack of Legos. If I stop, she'll die."
Unity swept a glowing green light across Maribelle, "Likelihood of truth... 98.7%", he stepped forward, "How may we assist?"
We worked feverishly, Unity's scans showing me the spots that the hospital's imaging had missed, the tiny metastasis that were all but invisible, but would come rampaging back if they were passed over. An hour passed before Unity's scans could find no more. I toppled to the ground, sweating and near delirious.
Unity stared down at me, "The task is complete. You are under arrest."
I glared back up at him, gesturing to Maribelle, "Look what we've done! What we could continue to do!"
"Irrelevant", the pile of fancy toasters replied. Then just like a toaster coil he flashed a brilliant red-orange before collapsing, the sprinklers in the room going off and showering all of us with cool water.
I shook my head, a wry smile on my face as I kicked the steaming pile of scrap away from me, "Did you forget who I was?"
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Part 1
I stared at the letter frowning. It had wrinkles from where I'd balled it up, the edges were blackened from where I'd began to burn it, the words were even smeared from where I'd left a cup of ice water near it and the sweat from the cup had drenched it... yet the letter survived.
"Are you going to go master?"
Finally I tore my eyes from the page to look at my minion, a hideous red Hobgoblin named Mud. "Of course not." I answered with a scowl not for the first time. "Obviously it's a trap, a trick to get me out of hiding. And even if not why should I care what some brat wishes for on their death bed? You know what they should have wished for? Not to die." and so I listed all the same excuses, nothing had changed from three weeks ago when I'd first received the letter. All the pros and cons lists looked the exact same... yet the letter survived.
"But if you're all powerful than what have you to lose?" Mud asked eagerly.
"What have I to gain?" I murmured in return.
Silence filled the hideout. "Well, wait much longer I imagine the decision will be made for you." Mud laughed.
"What a wonderful day that would be." I sighed.
My eyes traveled over the surface of the page once again.
*'Dear Mr. The Death. My name is Harold, my doctor tells me I'm really sick, they asked me if there's anything I wanted. They asked me if there's anyone I wanted to meet. I said you because I think it's cool how you get to do whatever you want and the heroes have to listen. If you could come to Memorial Hospital I could meet you, I'd come to your hideout so the hero's couldn't find you but my doctor says I have to stay in bed.'*
"Are you going to go master?"
Finally I managed to tear my eyes from the page once again to look at my minion.
"If it will get me some peace of mind, and quiet from you than sod it. Yes I will go." I snapped.
Memorial Hospital was the largest hospital in Greater Township, rather than attempting to sneak In however I released a recorded statement to the city as a whole informing them of my intention. "I have business in that hospital, get out of my way if you don't want to die, stay out of my way if you don't want an ocean of blood on your hands." it wasn't the first time I'd held a collective hostage, but it was the first time a hospital had been my quarry.
On the day I wore the mother of all scowls as I approached the hospital, I should have known Eden wouldn't be able to stay away. His scowl wasn't far off from my own. "You're not going to stop me." I informed him.
"I need your assurance you'll harm no one within, otherwise I will not stand aside."
I tilted my head slightly. "You have it." I murmured.
Still Eden remained in my way for another thirty seconds before finally standing aside and hanging his head. I said nothing as I passed the dutiful hero, the standing army, and the sea of protesters held far back.
Inside the hospital was miraculously quiet, no visitors allowed today it seemed. The lady at the front desk gave me a fraught smile, kudos to her for not calling in sick today. "What room is Harold in?" I asked.
"I'm afraid we have quite a few Harold's. Do you have a last name?"
"Er no. I just have this letter."
"Oh... Oh... Oh..." she repeated her brow furrowing as she continued to read the letter. Finally she looked up. "I imagine he must be in our children's wing on the fourteenth floor."
"Thank you." I murmured taking the paper and stalking to the elevator. A short ride later I get off and once again have to get directions before finding the wing and the room in question. This time a man in a doctor's coat blocked my path. Short hair and spectacled, his is not the first scowl I've seen today nor do I imagine it'll be the last.
"Why have you come?" he demanded. "Harold is very sick. He does not need to become excited, or agitated."
"You're the one who let him write me." I scowled right back, no more happy to be had than have been seen.
"No one believed for a second you'd actually show, including Harold."
"This is on you, not me. I'm just responding to a missive, now get out of my way."
"...Fine." the doctor said standing aside.
Turning the door handle I entered to find a boy laying in bed looking quite ragged indeed. Despite the tubes he turned to face me eyes lighting up. "Mr. The Death." he wheezed.
I frowned as I took the vacant chair beside his bed. "That's me." I answered readjusting but the chair was never made to be comfortable.
"You came."
"I did. I told the whole city I was coming too."
"Really?"
"Yeah, Edens outside right now."
"Was he mad?"
"Furious." I smirked.
"You're the coolest." Harold smiled. I readjusted again, there was something uncomfortable about the room but I chalked it up to a general unease.
"So you asked to meet me, was there something you wanted? I would have brought you a million dollars but didn't figure you'd be able to spend much of it in here." I stated casting about.
"No, I don't want money." he coughed glancing away and to the window in his room through which the sun was streaming. "I want to know how you make heroes obey you."
"Oh." I answer. "It's not that hard, they just have to fear you. Know there's something you can do to them that they don't want done."
"Like Death."
"Yes, for most of them that's death, if not their own than someone they care deeply for."
"Have you ever met someone you couldn't kill?"
"I don't... think so." I said readjusting once again. "There's plenty of people alive right now because I don't have the desire to kill them, like you, and Eden, and really most everyone in Greater Township."
"You don't want to kill me?" Harold asked.
"What would be the point?" I shrugged somewhat meekly. "Why do you want to know how to make heroes fear you?"
"Because heroes are the most powerful people on Earth so if you can make them obey you... I want to know how to make God obey me." I arched a brow.
"That's pretty lofty, not sure I could even do that kid."
"You can do anything." he smiled weakly and held out a hand. Relenting I took it, Harold slowly entwined his digits in mine. Instantly it felt cold to the touch but I could feel the cold spreading like a disease. I tried to pull away but the boy's grip was suddenly like iron.
"It's okay if you're scared." Herald coughed. "I'm scared too."
"Release me." I ordered.
"Eden said if I could take you with me than God would have to obey me since no one is supposed to be able to kill Death." the cold spread through every inch of me.
"Please, I'll give you whatever you want just please don't kill me." I pleaded. The chair tipped over, clattering behind me as I struggled.
"You have to come with me Mr. The Death." Herald pleaded right back. "I don't want to go alone, and you can do anything. If God doesn't obey me he'll have to obey you."
All my strength left me, I collapsed to both my knees. Finally I nodded. "Alright Herald. You win. Let's go together then."
"Really?" he said smiling.
"Well when ya twist my arm." I said gesturing to the grip he held me in. Honestly what annoyed me most was just knowing Eden had finally gotten the better of me, though using a kid to do it... at least I knew while my sleep would be peaceful, his would be restless.
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