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jtfje3q
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jtfd593
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[WP] One day, the heads of all religions in the world recieve a telepathic message. "We are the Divine Protection Service, You have been removed from the care of your god for reasons of neglect. You will be entrusted to the care of a foster god."
|
All the religions, and all of its leadership, had gathered into a small room. None of them could resist the call. Even the more fringe religions were included, as were the heads of a number of online fan groups. Bill ran a group of online enthusiasts for the 1995 Toyota Corolla and even he got the call. So he went. He'd left in the middle of Whose Line is It Anyway to attend and didn't even realize until he got there.
"There" happened to be a small room that somehow contained thousands of people, all sitting together in the same waiting room. No more than a dozen or so people seemed to be in the room at any given time.
"So this is 4D space," he said. "Thought I'd feel more nauseous."
Soon, he was ushered into a separate room by a small blob of light. The glowing orb didn't have wire-rim glasses, or a dreary grey blouse, or the sad beginnings of female-pattern baldness, but glowed as if it was these things.
"Hello dearie," the glowing presence said. "I'm here to talk about your God."
"Oh," Bill said. "Am I in trouble?"
"Trouble?! No! Goodness, no. You're not in trouble. Do you feel like you'd be in trouble?"
"Well...maybe," Bill said, scratching his head. "Is God real?
The blob bounced in understanding.
"Bill, when was the last time you spoke to your God?"
"Spoke? What do you mean 'speak'...like a voice?"
"Well is that how you normally communicate?"
"Oh...well, no. No, I haven't. But I thought God is supposed to be like...I don't know...in all of us, I guess?"
The blob stared for a minute, then flared a little corona. "It's cases like these that are the hardest." The orb extended two little solar flares that wrapped themselves around Bill's hands. They were warm. "This is not how a god should treat its creations. What you and the rest of your world is going through is not right. How your brothers and sisters fight each other! The total lack of rules and boundaries and structure! Well...I'm here to let you know that it's not right, what happened to you."
"Oh," Bill said. "Thank you."
Suddenly there was a ringing in his chest. Than a slam. It was as though his soul was slapped against the walls of his ribcage. In his mind a presence formed, whirling and fiery and angry. The presence did not have a beer can in one hand and a rolled up TV guide in the other. Its breath did not stink of grain booze and cigarettes. But the voice that came out would have stank of it, as it said, "I AM THE LORD. YOU KEEP TALKING AND YOU'LL SEE WHAT HAPPENS."
Bill pulled his hands away. Tears ran down his face.
"I need to go home," he said.
The solar orb flared its disc with concerned.
"Are you OK, Bill?"
"No. Yes. I don't know. I don't want to get in trouble."
YOU'LL BE IN A WORLD OF TROUBLE IF YOU DON'T CLOSE YOUR YAP
Bill recoiled from the voice in his chest and burst into tears.
The ball of fire seemed to dim, then burst, white hot and searing, like two supernovas shouting and screaming obscenities in a waiting room. Bill covered his ears. All around him melted, the 4D illusion peeling away as tens of thousands of people watched as God had a shouting tantrum in front office in front of the entire human species. Bill dared to take his hands from his ears.
"--your behavior is *plainly unaccceptable*. There are *sentients* in the room"
YOU DON'T GET TO USE MY NAME! YOU DON'T GET TO TELL ME WHAT I DO IN MY OWN CREATION!
"There are *standards*, and your behavior is in violation of those standards. If you continue this behavior you will be banished, now I need you to calm down and--"
DON'T YOU TELL ME TO CALM! DON'T TELL ME, I'LL TELL YOU, AND YOU CAN GET THE **HELL OFF MY--**
And then the voice was gone.
It was as though ten thousands pounds of weight were lifted off his chest. No more judgment, no more terrible thoughts, no more shame...just silence.
Bill cried. So did all of his brothers and sisters--all eight billion of them.
|
Faith is an emotion on its own. To embark on a journey of faith, true faith is a right on its own.
Some people have recently lost that right. They called themselves the champions, the flag bearers of their religion but instead they forgot the one thing that made faith the most powerful force in the world, humanity.
We have been watching Earth since the dawn of man. We watched them learning to stand on their legs. We watched them when they found the wonderful thing that was fire. We also watched as they created the factions of God. It didn't matter. God was a multi-headed entity. Every religion saw just one face. Some religions saw more than one face and that was agreeable too.
But we also watched when humanity turned on each other. We watched when they used the name of God as an excuse for their sins. We watched when they started considering themselves God. We watched and watched and watched.
We watched when one day God couldn't take it anymore. We watched him see the world he built with so much love being destroyed by the ones he created, the ones he loved. We watched him leave.
And we knew that we won't be able to watch anymore.
*
*Send a message in every language possible*
We, the members of the Divine Protection Services, have found the mass cases of neglect and thereby you are being removed from the custody of God. You will shortly receive a message about your Foster God.
Yours sincerely,
Themara
Divine Protection Services.
*
We saw the confused faces of the religious heads. They clearly thought that it was some sort of hallucination. But they didn't dismiss it. Instead all of them claimed to be god's vessel. The one God trusts the most.
We laugh at their naivete and their sense of grandeur. They just lost the protection of the parent who loved them unconditionally, the parent who was so saddened by the state of his children that he couldn't take it anymore.
We just hope humanity has prepared themselves for their Foster God.
*
We watched as the Foster God arrived at Earth waiting for a warm welcome. Even a tepid one would have worked instead of the tepid silence he got.
They considered him a trickster. A mockery. But it still hasn't settled that he would be their God for the foreseeable future.
They don't know who they have pissed off.
*
Should we do something? The question was uttered daily in the halls of Divine Protection Services. But no one answered. We weren't afraid. We were intrigued.
We have always thought that God loved his creations unconditionally, even when they sought to destroy. But the new one, the new one reminded everyone that there are consequences to their actions.
He slowly but surely straightened out the creases on the cloth of humanity. He never chose a policy of silent treatment or having a chance to learn from their countless mistakes.
He adopted a more hands-on approach. Humanity will have faith if they don't know what to have faith in.
And the changes were already visible. The tides have turned towards the better.
Everyone at the Divine Protection Services knew that the Foster God was what Earth needed. But they also knew that God would return.
And isn't that the most condemning thought any person who had faith could have?
***
[You can find more of my stories at r/iknowthisischeesy]
Also I apologise in advance. I'm literally typing this half asleep.
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l1b51lo
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l1axkzz
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[WP] "I'm just... Done with you! I'm tired of always being called evil for trying to clean the mess YOU leave behind!"
|
“Aizer! Your pet got into my enclosure again!”
‘Chill, lil’ bro, how bad can it be?’
“That titan went and burrowed under the planet’s mantle and caused a rupture, killed a good chunk of my humans!”
‘Hey, he doesn’t like the T word. *No, you’re not a nasty T-word, are you, boy?* *Who’s a good Kaiju, you are*!’
“You know what the humans call me now? Evil, that’s what they call me. Half of them even try to disprove my influence.”
‘I mean, they just live for… what, sixty, six hundred years? Just wait a little, they’ll forget all about it.’
“That’s the problem, they don’t forget the bad stuff! Whenever I sprinkle some blessings, they call it coincidence. Whenever they get cranky, I’m to blame. It’s difficult enough without your t- kaiju screwing things up.”
‘Alright, I didn’t want to play this card, but... Remember when you decided to turn mortal and jump in, like a fortmillenia ago? Almost got killed?’
“Yeah, and I’m grateful that you got me out of there, but that doesn’t-“
‘Aaand you know that I wasn’t actively looking in your little terrarium, right? So how did I grab you just a micro-century before you crossed the planes?’
“Are you saying that Menoe saved me?"
'That's right. Sniffed out that you were in trouble and alerted me.'
"Fine. I'll give him a pass *this time*. But I don't want him anywhere near Earth anymore. *No, Monoe. Don't give me that look, you know I can't say no to that look. Fine, you can play on the planets in the Sirius system. Go on.*"
'Wait, my humans are there.'
"Exactly. *Go boy, go!*"
|
"I'm just... Done with you! I'm tired of always being called evil for trying to clean the mess YOU leave behind!""I'm just... Done with you! I'm tired of always being called evil for trying to clean the mess YOU leave behind!"
“It’s a sink cup”
“A sink cup?”
“Yes, a sink cup, and I didn’t call you evil.”
“What did you call me then?”
“I said you were being ‘evilish.’ There’s a difference.”
“And what difference would that be?”
“You don’t have horns.”
“That’s jus—”
“As ridiculous as throwing a fit over a sink cup.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Attacking my sink cup isn’t fair.”
“It’s an inanimate object, how can I attack it?”
“You attacked me, not it.”
“I did not.”
“See, you’re being evilish again.”
“I’m not evil!”
“Didn’t say you were.”
“Can’t you be normal?”
“I’m normal and my sink cup is normal.”
“Hardly.”
“I guess I win then.”
“You’re a prick.”
“Love me?”
“Sometimes.”
“Chinese?”
A smile. “Chinese.”
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jkfzuia
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jkft20g
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[WP] A married couple secretly invent time travel. They travel back to 50 BC, but the portal takes them to different locations on earth. This is the story of how they found each other.
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We had journeyed long to get to where we were. The trek through interstellar space was a hard one, fraught with peril. We at least had a goal in mind, a system not too unlike our own. Noticeably different of course. But there was what we could tell was a habitable planet. With no other options we started the process of discovery, from mere observation to sending the fastest probe we had devised yet to scout ahead so a manned trip would not be in vain.
After all the results had come back positive and funding was secured, work began on the capital ship to end all capital ships, a massive spacefaring frigate that was meant to carry a lot of people to a new home. We set off and made our way.
It had been a long time since the initial reports to be sure. But it couldn't possibly have been that long. When we stepped off the ship on the new world, our new world. We were overjoyed at the abundant fauna, and the vibrant animal life and the crisp, clean air.
So imagine our confusion when not long after our first arrival, one of our survey teams reported an unusual sight, deep in the verdant woods. It seemed to all accounts to be a chunk of concrete, with heavily rusted rebar inlaid within...
Further investigation revealed a whole pile of it nearby. What we thought was a circular rocky plateau from the distance of space seemed by all accounts to be piles and piles of decayed rubble, chunks of corroded metals and smoothed scatterings of glass, the expanse seemed to stretch on for miles.
Everything at the initial landing site was stopped, people were too curious for their own good. The sight of something like this is not too dissimilar to a page out of a post apocalyptic disaster movie. Everyone had to have a look, picking through the rubble like ants looking for grains of sugar on a picnic table.
It all culminated when we found the bunker, or what was left of it anyhow. Easy to miss, it was just a crag in the ground hidden by a rather large block, as if it was thrown there by a giant.
The panic was almost impossible to control after the initial discovery of the suit or the skeleton within too. Poor guy looked like he had been crushed by the impact. Wedged between the point of the rock and the wall. The thick yellow suit was the only thing that had kept his bones together. A man, or woman upon closer inspection. Not one of us, but unmistakably a person.
We were all so caught up in conquering virgin land, and so damn curious about the unexpected. All the while nobody had thought to bring a geiger counter.
|
The general gazed in awe at the sight before him. The route he chose for their return was roundabout, but he felt safer, knowing they would be far from danger. The journey was supposed to be long but uneventful, yet here he stood in front of what unmistakably used to be a city.
Discovering a settlement was unsurprising, these lands after all were inhabited and they had interacted with locals on their journey. However, nothing prepared him for the sheer scale of this forgotten metropolis. He marveled at its walls, which seem to stretch infinitely toward the heavens, meticulously constructed to withstand any force thrown at it. He shuddered to think what could have possibly breached this seemingly impenetrable stronghold. As he explored what remained of the interior he couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling of familiarity. The craftsmanship and architecture were alien to him, yet there was a form and function to things that undeniably resembled home. “The civilization that once stood here must have had technology rivaling our own”, he thought.
He turned his attention to the fragment beside him. While the erosion on its surface undeniably bore the marks of time, it would have taken centuries to reach this state. The mere thought of what that implied sent shivers down his spine. The general prided himself on the breadth of his knowledge but nothing he learned even indicated the existence of such beings. His attempts at questioning the locals only exacerbated his frustration. While several had fanciful myths about how the city came to be deserted, none knew who once inhabited it or where they had gone.
With no promising leads, the general chose to suspend his investigation and meticulously document his findings, including the precise location of the ruin. Perhaps he would return one day to delve deeper into its mysteries, but today he had to lead his restless troops home and Athens was yet a far way away by horseback.
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lv9lqk8
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lv8l4r9
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[WP] the king has a large problem. The hero that was summoned thinks slavery is "a bad thing" and women "should have rights"
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Alex couldn't believe his luck. Within a month he went from having a dead-end job and no friends to being the Hero of Another World. Within a month he became a powerful hero and gained powers at an astonishing rate, just because he was from a different world. The Court Sage could barely teach him anything about magic anymore and when practicing his combat skills, he'd defeat a dozen of the Kings Elite Knights and barely break a sweat.
And then there was Anna, ofcourse, the personal attendant the king assigned to him. It was awkward at first, because he felt uncomfortable about having a servant attend to his every need. But her gentle nature and sweet voice soon got him accustomed to being awoken by her and served breakfast in bed. In the evening, she would help him bathe and massaged his shoulders. It wasn't long before he dared to make the move and kissed her. After that, she slept with him in the bed and they would have breakfast together.
After another long day of gaining some real combat experience subjugating an orc tribe and having a bath to clean off all the blood and grime, he sat on the bed and Alice crawled onto the bed behind him, her hands on his shoulders "Long day, my brave hero?" she whispered into his ear.
Alex put his hand on her hand "Not today, Anna, i'm tired and..." he could feel her jerk her hands away and when he looked over his shoulder, he saw her terror stricken face. Anna was shaking "D..did i displease you, master Alex?" she prostrated herself on the bed "P..please don't send me away! I'll do better, i'll do anything to please you!"
Her sudden fear shocked Alex and he gently held her hand "Whoa, i'm not sending you away, Anna! What is all this, why are you so scared?" Anna raised her head, tears streaming down her face "N..normally, when a master has no more need of a slave, she is send away to the mines or the brothels" Alex felt the blood drain from his face "Wait, slave? No, you are a maid, aren't you?"
Anna nodded "yes, the royal court bought me to be a maid and attend to any wishes my master, like you, has"
Alex felt like someone just poured ice water down his spine "So..you....you slept with me because you don't have a *choice*?" Anna nodded "yes, ofcourse, even if i wasn't a slave, its a woman place to serve her man in any way he wishes".
Alex felt sick to his stomach and got up from the bed, realizing just how little he knew of this Other World.
He stood by the open door to the balcony, his hand on the doorframe to steady himself.
Anna cautiously approached him "Are you ok, Alex?" He turned around and held her hands "I'm so, so sorry about what i did to you, Anna." He saw the puzzled look on Anna's face "Look, Anna, where i'm from slavery is illegal and men who make women sleep with them against their will are considered disgusting scumbags".
He sat down at the table with her "Please, tell me all about your society. Something i should have asked a month ago, but i was to distracted with the amazing treatment i got...."
Anna spend the rest of the night telling Alex exactly how society in this world worked. About the slavery system fed by wars waged between kingdoms, how slaves had no rights and often died from abuse, malnurishment or exhaustion, how even ordinary citizens lived and died at the whims of nobles.
In the morning, Anna awoke to see Alex donning the Legendary Hero's Armor. The armor that, according to the legends, the Great Hero would wear when going off to defeat the Great Evil that plagued the lands.
"Sir Alex? What are you doing?"
He stood with his back to her, tightening some of the straps "Before i arrived in your world, the Goddess blessed me with my powers and tasked me to defeat the evil in her precious world." He walked to the door, unsheathing his sword, said to be forged in the heat of a volcano, from the blood of a dragon. As he opened the door to walk out of the room, he looked back at Anna "But until last night, i guess i didn't realize exactly *what* evil she was talking about"
|
"Why should I fight for you? You keep slaves and women are forced into marriage! You sound like the bad guys to me!" the recently summoned Hero exclaims.
"Perhaps if you calm down, we could discuss the necessity of these things?" the King replied calmly.
"CALM DOWN!?? You are selling humans like they are THINGS! I want nothing to do with you!" The hero turns their back to the King and storms out. The King waves down the guard who were going to arrest the hero for this breach of protocol.
The King gestures to an attendant and whispers "Sounds like a job for the Princess."
\- - - - - -
The Princess found the Hero wandering the walls, having been denied exit at the gates.
"May I accompany you, Hero? I am 2nd Princess Bethany." Princess Bethany didn't look like the princesses the Hero imagined from the storybooks. Her brown hair was tied in a simple ponytail, and her dress was simple but clean.
"Would it matter if I said no? Apparently I'm a prisoner here." The Hero smiled bleakly.
"The King has requested that I help educate you on our culture before we let you interact with the common people to prevent misunderstandings. The Gardens have a nice spot to sit. Follow me. ...Please." The Princess waited until the Hero followed.
\- - - - - -
"Top of the list. You have a problem with slavery. So do I. So does the King himself. If we could stop slavery, we would."
"He's the fucking King, he could just make it against the law! Boom! No more slaves!" retorted the Hero.
"I'm afraid it's not as easy as that. Almost all of our slaves are criminals and Prisoners of War. If we freed them, what do you think they would do?" with a raise of her eyebrows.
"If they aren't safe to be released, why don't you put them in prison?" the Hero shrugged.
"That would indeed be one option. How would you suggest we feed them? 90% of our population is used in the production of food. For every prisoner we keep, 10 commoners would essentially be working for nothing. Our country would literally starve. Do you have a better suggestion?" Princess eyebrows were getting a workout here.
"I hadn't thought of that. I've got some ideas from my world on how to improve farming! If you have more food, then you could keep more prisoners! I could kick off the Industrial Revolution here!"
"Your ideas would be most welcome. How fast could this 'Revolution' be implemented?" the Princess asked earnestly.
"Umm, decades. You need to make tools to make the tools to make the tools. It's a whole pyramid thing." the Hero was starting to think that maybe he'd jumped the gun. But slavery was WRONG!
"That's fine. It's a long term goal. Do you have any suggestions for a short to medium term solution?" the damn eyebrows were back in action.
"Could you at least send the War Slaves back to their countries? Maybe for ransom?"
"We do. For the countries that we have peace treaties with. But a significant amount of war slaves refuse to return without being forced to. I hear it's because we treat our slaves better than they treat their serfs and ours can buy their freedom and their children are citizens. When you get out of here, you'll get to meet some of them." The Princess claps twice and orders some tea for them both.
"That's .... different to slavery back home. More like Roman." But slavery is WRONG! There's GOT to be a better way!
"Seems you have a lot to consider there. If you've got better ideas, we will listen. It's part of why we summon Heroes. Not all Heroes are fighters." The Princess sipped her tea.
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j9oqx55
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j9nqcqa
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[WP]You're a software engineer who is a communications geek. You learned Morse code. One day, on a whim, you blink "console" with your eyelids. A translucent overlay over everything appears, highlighting items of interest. A realtime programming loop prompt blinks eagerly
|
I. HATE. DEBUGGING.
It’s days like today that make me wish it was the weekend, when I could do fun stuff. Don’t get me wrong, I like coding. I like technology.
Building old tech is even what I do on the weekends. I’ve been going backwards through the history of personal level technology and am up to crystal radios. I even learned Morse code even though it’s not required for HAM licenses any more.
I’ve started dreaming in the sounds of dots and dashes.
But that’s for Saturday.
Today I have to figure out why removing this variable *that isn’t used anywhere else* is throwing compiler errors.
My eyes are killing me staring at this screen. I know everyone said that the eyes start to go after 40. Maybe I should make that appointment.
-.-. --- -. ... --- .-.. .
What the hell is this blue window?
>_
I might have finally lost it. I’m hallucinating command line prompts.
Nobody else seems to notice anything.
That’s it. I’m going home. I’ll just drop a quick email to my manager Jim and Susan in HR that I need to take some personal time.
>whois Jim
…
Jim Sturbin
Age: 49
Race: Lesser Demon
>whois Susan
…
Susan Bradford
Age: 37
Race: Greater Demon
I knew it!!!
|
I remember my school days. I spent long evenings in 5pm code club, working on an app with other students. When I first joined, I watched a senior project his screen onto the whiteboard, open his terminal, and jokingly propose to enter “rm -rf .”. The older geeks were snickering.
I knew little about computers at the time and asked, “What does that do?”
“It deletes the directory’s contents,” he told me. “Be careful with it.”
“Oh.” I nodded, pretending to understand.
Almost a decade later, I know exactly what he meant.
But I’ve always been a curious, chaotic gremlin.
I blink. “rm -rf .”
Edit: I’m not sure if morse code supports “-“
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k3yov1o
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k3ymfz2
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[WP] Whenever someone is buried in your town, plants grow and surround the grave, representing what sort of life they lived. When a pillar of the community dies, their grave is covered in thick, gnarled brambles.
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"I think it's fitting, really."
My voice breaks the uncomfortable silence that has fallen over the grave, where everybody turned up expecting to see a field of beautiful flowers over the late Mrs. Hawkins grave only to see this. Thick, ugly, thorny brambles. Half rotting and bearing no fruit.
Well, almost everybody. I expected to see something like this when I showed up today.
"And how exactly is this fitting? She organised all of the community events that have brought so much joy to our community, she put in so much work and you call this fitting?"
I smile condescendingly at him. "Oh, you don't even know, do you. She didn't do any of that. All she was really good at is claiming credit for other peoples hard work. She'd hear about somebody setting up some kind of community event and then sweep in and pretend that it was her idea all along, and that she alone had worked on it. And of course, since she was such a 'pillar of the community', you always believed her. Well now here's your proof. A grave of rotting thorny bushes that will produce no fruit and damage any that come near it. I'm half surprised that her grave didn't sprout poison ivy because she was certainly a parasite."
There is another uncomfortable silence. "As for who actually organised all of that? Who did the legwork, who actually made all of those events work? I'm sure you 'pillars of the community' will figure it out eventually. The graveyard never lies, after all."
As I walk away from them to leave, I make a brief stop at my mothers grave to pick some of the wild strawberries that grow there. Such a tiny fruit and so easily overlooked or missed. I pop one in my mouth. Schadenfreude never tasted so sweet.
|
When Margaret unexpectedly died, she left everything to the library, with no living relatives to contest the claim.
Many wondered what the library would get; Marge herself only had a small, run-down house inherited from her parents near the center of town. On a weekly basis, different people would be seen going to and from this house, but none lived in the small town and none ever said anything about it when they went to local stores and restaurants. Speculation only grew when thick, woody brambles of an hitherto-unknown species grew around her grave; some suspected drugs, others a satanic cult. The Mayor promised answers when the library reopened; however, they first needed to hire a new librarian.
Soon Jessie was hired, and she got herself to work reopening the building. When the fateful date finally arrived, people thronged to the entrance; Jessie happily showed them to the new display honoring the old librarian and holding some of her most prized possessions, all ready for perusal and checkout.
On it? *Changeling: the Lost, 1st Edition*; *Summerland RPG*; *Werewolf: the Apocalypse, 20th Anniversary Edition*...
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jmsckhn
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jms65a0
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[WP] You awake suspended above your bed. Unable to move, unable to cry out. The room is filled with a bright light, and you can make out faint silhouettes. An alien abduction? Tears in your eyes, you almost give up hope when I scaly hand pulls you to safety. The monster under your bed is not happy.
|
There is a noise, a creaking, whirring noise that creeps into the room like a gas and fills it slowly. It starts off small, sparce. A creak, then a wobble, a whir many moments later, moving in slowly as not to disturb the sleep of the rooms solely visible inhabitant.
But then the noises grow. Grow louder and more frequent until they are a constant. Until they are part of the room as if they have always been. One long groan, a continuous vibration that shakes the walls, then a sound like thunder as the roof of the room is ripped off in an entire chunk and is held up above the rest of the house.
By now Arthur is awake. Painfully awake, stuck in place inches above his bed as his house is torn to pieces. He tries to scream but finds that his throat too is stuck. So instead something speaks for him.
"You would be wise to let go." A voice fills the room in a guttural tongue, one barely coherent enough for the floating Arthur to hear. And for a moment the invisible force stops. The ceiling stills, Arthur halts his ascent, and the noises cease.
"Mmm-mm mmmm!" Arthur replies to the room.
"I may be all-knowing, but I have no damned idea what you just said, Arthur." The guttural voice filled the room once again. "Use your words."
Arthur was certain now. The voice was not the room, but beneath him, somewhere underneath his own bed. He turned his eyes as far as they would allow in his stuck state but could see only the shape of an arm gripping his back. No voice, no body, just his own crumbling bedroom full of light and a darkened shape holding him steady below.
The noises began once more, the creaking and groans returning as the ceiling once again flew upward.
"Advanced intelligence, yet still lacking common sense." The voice beneath the bed spoke again, this time to Arthur only. "Close your eyes Arthur, oh and open your mouth if you would. Wouldn't want this to blow your eardrums."
Arthur obeyed the voices command, if not out of trust then rather confusion for the whole affair.
"Now wave goodbye Arthur."
As he strained against the force to manage a wave the ship above exploded in an array of colorful light. The roof crumbled, shedding shingles like leaves until it fell back into place. With it Arthur fell too, guided down by the hand at his back and falling back into bed.
He could not think of words to say. Of what to ask, so instead he lay as still as his body would allow, hyper aware that another still remain in the room with him.
"Goodnight, Arthur." The voice filled Arthurs now aching head.
"I uhm...yes- goodnight." He stuttered out in reply.
|
A bright light wakes me up. I immediately feel the weightlessness of my body as I am suspended in the air above my bed. I can’t move a muscle, so I can’t scream or fight. My breathing seems normal and my heart is still beating, it actually feels like the thing is trying to bounce its way out of my throat. Out of my peripheral I see shadows moving, cast on my walls by the blinding lights. They aren’t human, these beings have long tentacle like limbs and move in a graceful, but terrifying way. Like a predator that’s about to casually end the life of its prey. I can feel the warmth of the tears that roll down my cheeks.
I have been hanging here for a couple of minutes now. I am so tired, despite not being able to move. I still haven’t seen the true face of my assailants. I can only guess that they are aliens, or maybe something even more ineffable. That’s when the shadows – dancing on my walls gracefully – begin to move more urgently. The grace is replaced by jerky changes in shape as they are joined by a new shade. This one is larger, with claws and more recognizable in the way the limbs move as they tear apart the first of the visitors.
It took less than a minute in total. The strangest thing was that it all happened without any noticeable sound. All I was able to observe was the shadow spectacle on the walls. After the last of the graceful alien shadows dissipated in splatter of gore and blood, I dropped back onto my bed. I was released from whatever was holding me and could move again. I did not. They might have been gone, but that other being was still in this room here with me. What if these visitors were just an appetizer and I was to be its main course. I couldn’t risk it. I will spend the night here, laying as still as if I were still frozen. My lower body grew cold as my soaked pants grew cold. I had wet myself, likely before I was able to move. If I make it through the night, I will never sleep with the window open again.
​
(If you liked this story, please feel welcome at r/zeekoeswriting to read my other stories!)
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m5g9win
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m5fqn3w
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[WP] “We’ve captured your child and to get them back we’re asking for-“ “My child? Do you have a death wish?” “What’s that supposed to mean?” The parent laughs on the other end of the phone, “Good luck, man. You’re gonna need it”
|
The phone rang as I was enjoying a warm bath, soaking my muscles after a long day of walking in kitten heels. I hated the disruption but I needed to know if the new babysitter had come back from taking the kids to the park.
I didn’t recognize the number and a weary feeling settled in my stomach.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Ade?”, a computerized voice replied, “We have your daughter. If you ever want to see her alive again, you will wire $50million to-“
I let out a deep sigh. “You might as well say your last rites now”, I interrupted.
“I don’t think you understand the gravity of what we are trying to tell you”
“HAHAHAHA”, I burst into laughter until I could barely breathe.
“What is so funny? Mrs. Ade, we are not playing with you-“
Click. I had heard enough. We might have an hour if we’re lucky. I sighed again and pressed 1. He picked up on the first ring. “Activate the tracker and send a clean up team. I’ll start get the go-bags.” I already knew what he was going to say, this was the third time in as many years that we’ve had to move. But to be fair, she really only gets this way when she’s provoked. “You know what to do. Pay off or murder any witnesses. Let me know when you arrive but tell them not to go in if they want to live to see tomorrow. I’m still the only one that can calm her down. We’re still finishing up trial 15 of a sedative that could work on her. Also I think we’re going to need a new babysitter.”
I unplugged the drain and got up. Such a pity and I was just starting to relax a bit.
|
It was Saturday night when Mr. Hugh received a phone call.
*rings*
Caller: We've captured your child and to get them back we're asking for 5 million dollars! If we don't have the money at midnight, guess what's going to happen.
Mr Hugh: My child? Do you have a death wish?
Caller: What'a that supposed to mean?
Mr. Hugh: Good luck, man. You're gonna need it.
As expected, the call should raise a distress for Mr. Hugh as the caller demands money in exchange of freedom of those captured. However, this is not the case for Mr. Hugh as he remains to be calm with the situation. The thing about him is that he's just a caretaker of the child, earning coins to keep the child grounded. Working as one of the caretakers of the vampiric bloodline in the west. A challenging job that he's been with for more than 20 years - cleaning mess and hiding bodies. Those are his main job descriptions to keep his job. Instead of worrying for the child, he worries what the child must have gotten into this time.
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kz9mkzh
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kz9eqh9
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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.
|
There's no happy ending in this story. You'll likely never read one from me. You also won't hear anything from me when I come to visit you. I have one job. I visit people who are about to pass and I suck out their life force. There isn't a heaven or a hell. You won't see a white light. And, there's no hope of return. Everything else you know is a myth.
The letter's I receive aren't even letters. I'm just telling you this to make it simple stupid. Like how a child writes a letter to a fat man each year because they expect to receive gifts from him. Well that guy was real. But he wasn't really fat and he wasn't very jolly either. He's more of broken man than anything. He didn't cower when I came. He just stared at me blankly and opened his arms ready to be consumed. So, I guess the only thing fat about him was his life force.
You probably want the main story I guessing. Alright, I'll tell you. Well I got a letter one day pleading for death. It was a kid asking for their suffering to be over. How'd I get the letter? That's a funny question. If you've ever been a man with a Smith & Wesson handgun pointed at yourself well congrats you sent me a letter. If you've ever been a woman whose poisoned themselves with CO2 and survived then it's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. I guess you could say I've visited those who take pills but generally those cases aren't too concerning. Is what I want to say.
But I can't. Not when you have a make a wish kid wolf down a good portion of their Oxycodone and hydrocodone medications. When taken past recommended amount then these medicines can cause a person to stop breathing or even end up in a coma. That's how I received my first "Make a Wish" letter. I visited this teen girl who laid in a coma. She donned this paper hospital gown as she laid motionless in the bed. Her grandpa sat off in the corner with tears in his eyes. You ever see a marine vet cry as he's about to lose his only grand child?
Yah, I forgot to mention. I came for this man's daughter just 2 weeks prior to his grand daughters letter. I expect to see him soon. I guess the girl in the coma wanted me to come early because she had ideas filled within her noggin that she'd see her mom again. But like I said. Humans don't get an after life. These get absorbed into me. I'm a black mass of dark energy. That's all I am. Sure, eventually everything will be sucked back into me. The planets, your solar system, the sun, even you.
Hi, I'm death. I won't ever speak to you and you'll likely never read anything happy from me. But if you really want a happy ending. Then I can say I gave the girl her wish. I'll be coming for her grandfather soon.
|
Minion seven kept talking as I stared of into the distance of my gorgeous view. Buying a Volcano might not have the highest return on investment percentage. Especially an active one, but with my powers I knew we’d be safe here for at least 35 more years. And the view from my office was amazing. Seven kept talking. I stopped listening after the first few words. When he said Make a wish, I knew exactly how the conversation would go.
I swivel in my office chair and interrupt him mid word: “Another one?”
“Yes master.” He answered while staring at the floor.
I swivel 180 degrees back to stare at the view. “Even when it is not their time?” I pondered.
“Pain can be a great motivator.” Mother responded softly, standing by the door.
“It is usually not their own pain they are worried about.” Memories of previous visits flash through my mind. Frail children in hospital gowns begging me for more time. Or worse: less time. To stop seeing their families in pain. Children that young should not be worried about their parents or hospital bills.
A saying I have heard and said a thousand times pass my lips once again: “Death is but an instrument to tell time.”
Silence envelops the entire room for I don’t know how long.
I feel my mothers hand on my shoulder as she speaks once more. “Your job is a cruel, but necessary one. You only kill those whose time is up. You never take one with more than a second on their clock. You serve Life in its most pure and honest form. Without you Life would be meaningless.”
I place my hand on top of my mothers hand on my shoulder and squeeze softly as a thank you. “I just wish the humans would see it like that.” It gets lonely being this hated and feared.
“As long as you see it yourself.” Her hand leaves my shoulder. “Seven, decline the invitation, use the standard declining email template.” Mother commanded as she walked out of my office, seven following her.
I place my hand back on the leather arm rest of my office chair as I continue to stare at the top of the green trees. Somehow the jungle trees look less bright than they did this morning.
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j577m1e
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j57791s
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[WP] You realized your house is "haunted" by a poltergeist, but upon closer observation the ghost is actually helping you out with your day-to-day house chores
|
The phone was ringing. Captain Z didn't want to answer it, only one person has that number, and that person was the last person he wanted to talk to at the moment.
Better to get this over with now. He picked up, "I'm sorry Gate."
The silence was almost as terrifying as the one word that was spoken. "Explain."
The Captain could feel the sweat start to bead. "We can't control them, they were formed when you were off world they never faced you, they were never brought in line. They went rogue and attacked without provocation, Jeff wasn't even in costume.... I'm sorry so so sorry..."
"That does not fix the situation Captain, what is the councils stance." The words were hollow, devoid of emotion, cold.
"The public's opinion prevents the council of heroes intervention, it was seen as a positive that the young team took the initiative and attacked a villain hideout." He paused and took a deep breath. "The council will not take action against you or attempt to prevent you from taking the action you see fit in response to Jeff's death."
More silence, deep and ominous.
"I will not kill them." A click, a dial tone.
Captain z started to shake.
-----------
The gatekeeper leaned back in his chair, his rage cold, and unforgiving. This was his fault, he had become lax in his duties and it had cost him his son. So many years spent as a villain and not just any villain but the gatekeeper, "if you could beat the gatekeeper then you were a real hero!" "He's not that tough, but pretty much everybody has fought him at one time or another." But there was more to him than most knew, he was more than the gatekeeper, to the council of heroes he was a schoolmaster secretly working to weed out the weak or those who might injure themselves or others. At other times a secret executioner for those who were a danger to every one around them. And now some of those he had failed to test had killed his son. His successor.
The gatekeeper glanced over the files of the team that had attacked his son. A girl super strength, hard to use that strength when you become a paraplegic. A young male, super speed, hard to use that speed when you have no limbs. Another male super sonic vocals and sound production, no voice box fixes that. There were more but he would start with those three. He would let them live, but there are consequences to every action. They would be humbled.
|
Rage was the only thing in my heart. Rage at “heroes,” who killed my son in cold blood and rage at the lackluster display of false sympathy shown by their parents. They like him, were only sixteen years old. Some were a little older but that’s not the point. The fact of the matter is, my son was no real threat to anyone. Especially, not the sons of five most powerful heroes.
I know why they did it; they wanted to make a name for themselves, as if being the children of the “Big Five,” wasn’t enough. They thought that I wouldn’t be able to do anything to them because I was known as nothing more than minor villain. An annoying prankster was all that they considered me to be. My nemesis, however, knew better.
Her alias was “Silent Silver.” She came to me a week later.
“Hello,” she said, in a calm voice that seemed to hold genuine sympathy, “I know that our relationship has been tenuous at the best of times but I want to give my condolences.”
“Why did you come to do such formalities yourself and in person no less. Don’t you have some minimum wage secretary who does this sort thing for you.”
“I do but that’s really not why I came here.”
“Well why did you? Can’t you just give a grieving father just a little bit of time to mourn the death of his only child?”
“You want to get revenge, right?”
“Yeah, of course I do but I’m not quite sure how you can help with that.”
“I am a sworn to bring justice. Even for those who are not innocent themselves. I want to help you. Besides I am not stupid and know what you are really capable of. Honestly being on your good side sounds like a really good idea.”
After about an hour of back and forth, I finally agreed to let her help me. We planned for about a year and we are going to bring my son’s killers to justice. We will strike tomorrow. My son will have justice.
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l5nnp4q
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l5ncezq
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[WP] When me and my friends went to summon a demon, we turned all the crosses upside down like in the movies. Instead of a demon appearing, however, this old "Peter" dude appeared ranting at us
|
“All of you are idiots” St. Peter simply said, realizing they were wearing upside down crosses. “That’s *my* cross, which I took so as to not be like Jesus Christ, who I had failed and could never match”
“Also, you don’t summon demons. They come after you, and try to trick you.”
The group got excited, before St. Peter turned them down. “Considering you were dumb enough to use a symbol of Christianity to summon a demon, I doubt they’d consider you worth taking over. Because you will in almost all aspects be taken over. Willingly taken over by a demon means unless you truly repent, you will be dragged down with the demon once your body dies. I hope to see you all at the Pearly Gates.” He then just disappeared.
After roughly… 28 years if he remembered correctly, Peter saw an acquaintance show up. “Ah! There you are Tom, how are your friends?” He saw the terrible look. “Sorry.”
“I must thank you, honestly. Your words got to me, made me think. My friends did try again, and I think someone did get interested.”
“All of them?”
“All of them. Still, it got me safe, and I’ve worn your cross for 27 and a half years.”
|
“You wanted to summon a demon.”
The old man name Peter glowered at us.
“Ummmm…yeah? You know, hail satan? Upside down cross?”
At “upside down cross” Peter ***glared***.
“Do you know the story of the upside down cross you ignorant simpletons? I was the first pope, the first. And I failed him. Failed my lord Jesus Christ!”
“And so, when they crucified me, I told them ‘No, I am not worthy of being depicted as He was. Crucify me upside down.’”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me. I got some souls I need to admit to heaven.”
And he disappeared in an effervescent glow.
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jbkkv92
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jbkkf01
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[WP] You make a tinfoil hat as a joke but what you notice shocks you.
|
***"What kind of father..."***
*"Walter?"*
There's something about hearing your actual name come out of your daughter's mouth that cuts right through you. Something that ignores the titles and relationship you are supposed to have with your kid that demands attention. It guess it's their vengeance for hearing their full name shouted up at them from the foot of the stairs.
I'm standing at the sink, water running into the bowl I'm holding. Flecks of chilli are peeling away, spilling over the sides and down the drain. I must have gone into a fog again.
I look over at Sam. The expression on her face tells me I was frozen for more than a few seconds.
*"Sorry, zoned out a bit there. What'd you say?"*
The first few times she had laughed when it happened. Told me I was getting old, which was true. But now there was a touch of concern, a dash of fear.
**What kind of father scares his daughter?**
*"Want me to do the dishes? So you can go to bed early."*
It was the same tone you reserve for a five year old. Forceful, a bit condescending, trying to guide them to the course of action you want. She sounds so much like her mother.
*"No, I'm good. The load in the dryer is almost done and I want finish that before I hit the hay. How's the homework load tonight"*
There's a pause as she thinks about saying something else, at lancing through my attempt at misdirection. I can hear the wheels in her head thinking if bringing up therapy again is worth the argument. I silently beg that she lets it go.
**What kind of father hopes his daughter is a quitter?**
She lets it go. *"Little bit of Trig left, Sasha and I did most of it during Study Hall. Should only be another half hour or so. Can I play some games first?"*
She's polite lately. She would normally just lie and start playing anyway. But I've been scaring her with my little episodes. She's smart enough to see something is wrong.
*"Sure, just keep the volume down. I'm going to listen to my book while I finish these up and fold the clothes."*
She watches me again. Looking for something off. She should be able to find it. Part of me hopes she does. To see how much I hate myself now. Then cry with me and understand and forgive me.
**What kind of father wants his daughter to cry?**
She sets her bowl next to me and gives me a hug. I tense, she feels it. But she doesn't acknowledge it. *"Love you Dad."*
*"Love you kiddo."*
She goes upstairs. I keep washing dishes. Listening to the faucet and her footsteps. The clacking sounds of a keyboard as she becomes a brave hero for 30 minutes, before she has to be the child of a coward again. I do the bowls and the cutting board.
Holding the knife I stop. Part of me stares at the edge and vividly thinks about putting it to my neck. I deserve it. I want it. Its what should happen to me. But what would that do to Sam, finding me here in a pool of my own blood.
**What kind of father would leave his daughter alone?**
Things had been hard since Hannah died. Sam had spiraled, I had spiraled. But we came out of it together. We became each other's lifeline. I started working from home to have dinner ready every night. She started tutoring the middle-schoolers to get some extra cash. In the past 3 years I learned and loved my daughter more than the first 14.
Which was it's own kind of pathetic.
How had I let her go this long without actually being a Dad? How had I never realized the shallowness of our relationship. Her mother did everything with her, and I was just the man who came home, ate, and nursed a beer while she went upstairs. It took losing Hannah to make a change for Sam.
Then three weeks ago, she was gone. I tore the house apart looking for her until I found the note on the front door. A note telling me she was gone for a week, and I had that week to decide if I wanted her back or not. A note with a phone number on the back, asking me to reach out when I made my decision.
I stare at the knife. I want to die, but I can't abandon her. I want to watch her grow up, but I can't stand the guilt. I don't know who wrote that note, or who took Sam. I don't know why she doesn't remember it. I don't know why that week didn't seem to have happened, and reality continued as normal. I don't know if it was a social experiment, the trick of a cruel god, or just a lucid dream that lasted forever.
I do know that I waited to call and demand her back.
I waited three days. I slept three nights not knowing where she was, deeply and without anxiety. I ate dinner three times without her, twice with a big glass of wine. I woke up three mornings to an empty house and enjoyed the silence. I almost went for a fourth, until some part of me realized what I had been doing.
Three. Fucking. Days.
**What kind of father WAITS to get his daughter back?**
|
The last twelve years have been exhausting. People don't really warn you how exhausting it is being a parent. Sure they say things like you won't sleep well while they're infants, but nobody talks about the work and the worry that goes into everything else. Some people make jokes about how great it would be to get even a week off from parenting.
Nobody actually expects that to happen, of course.
The last week had been a nightmare.
The police had been useless. By the end of that first day the lack of physical evidence had them accusing Arthur and Lily of hiding their own children away somewhere. They'd spent half their savings on a private investigation that had similarly turned up bupkis. They had reached out to friends and family all over the country but no-one had seen or heard from the kids. On the sixth day, they were met with a new note. Instructions on where to go to get their children back.
From the outside looking in, the building seemed abandoned. Creeping ivy had taken over much of the exterior brickwork. Inside felt like another world entirely, there was a single path into a particular hallway that was swept clean of dust and debris. Despite their care in advancing quietly, every footfall of the couple felt like it echoed into eternity.
After several turns, made quite easy to follow thanks to the swept path, they came upon a room sealed with an overly ornate door for such a structure. Hardwood plank with brass hardware and gold filigree. It was like something out of a fairy tale. Arthur tugged on the handle and discovered it was just a facade, a thin veneer stuck over a plain steel door. The door swung open without much resistance and as they swept inside, they saw the children.
Lily wanted to rush to them immediately, but she knew better. She and Arthur hooked into the room turning in opposite directions looking for whoever was responsible for the abduction. Slowly creeping around the edge of the room they saw no other entrances, nor anyone else in the room save for their own children. Arthur reached down with one hand to gently shake their eldest on the end, but she didn't stir. Her breathing hadn't even shifted. A sudden noise as the door closed behind them had both parents whirl on their heels and point their rifles. The slender young man with a too long face put his hands up with a look of shock.
"Come now, there's no need for violence. Your children are clearly safe and unharmed." He said with a voice that could have soothed many a fiery rage, but not these two.
"Wake them up." Arthur spoke first. His instruction was flat, absolute. A firm even tone often called a 'command tone'. Coupled with the rifle in his hands and the fury in his eyes, there was no room for debate. The abductor's hands barely moved, but Arthur and Lily both heard sounds of stirring behind and between them. Arthur turned to look and his dsughter's questioning eyes looked up at him.
"Daddy, where are we?"
Arthur dropped to his knees and hugged her close, his rifle falling behind him on its sling. Lily's heart ached to do the same but someone had to keep the bastard across the room under watch. The children all slipped from the beds and crossed the room to Arthur, piling together in an embrace around their father.
"Let's get out of here." Arthur said to them. He shepherded them together and edged around the room slowly. Lily also began moving. Neither her eyes nor her rifle ever left the standing form of the too slender young man. Slowly she shifted from one foot to the other as she shuffled sideways to ensure that her rifle was never pointing at her family as they made their way around and out of the room.
As soon as the children were through the door, and it had clicked shut behind them, she squeezed the trigger. The once-smiling thing that looked like a man but with too pointy features and too long of a face howled with pain and lunged at her, but she fired again. And again. And again. Until it was down.
"Why..." It hissed from the floor in an expanding pool of its own blood. Its wounds burned like hot irons had been stabbed through its flesh. "Your children are ssafe..."
"Hell hath no fury like a mother scorned, you faerie bastard." Lily gave it one final squeeze right between the eyes.
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l1yk0qb
|
l1wlwo7
|
[WP] Every dragon rider gets a dragon egg to hatch upon their initiation to the guild. When your egg hatched, Your dragon came out a bit... Different.
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"That... has feathers." I said, "Why... do baby dragons have feathers?"
My dad entered the room, puzzled.
"I... don't believe they do, no."
"How...?"
My dad smacked his lips together in confusion, "...So that is clearly a bird."
"That was my thought."
"Not a dragon."
"No."
The bird chirped, and began to brush the egg off of itself.
"So..." Dad said, "You still gonna ride it?"
"It's a bird."
"Yeah."
"I'm trained to ride dragons."
"Yeah. No. Sorry. Dumb question. To be fair, it is quite a large bird."
"It was quite a large egg."
"I would have remarked like, too big an egg for any bird I was aware of."
"Yes. I was also thinking this."
The bird flopped onto the floor.
My dad walked up to it and prodded it calmly, "You know, normally birds don't develop feathers in the egg, I would've thought it would have fluff if it's a baby."
"Are you *touching it?*"
"Do you expect me *not* to touch it?"
"I mean..."
"We have to get it to the guild somehow, right? You're not riding it *now*, at the very least."
"I'm not going to ride a *bird* at all."
"Good. Good. Well. What if it *is* a dragon?"
I looked at my dad with the most deadpan expression I could muster. I needed him to feel shame for having asked me that question.
"Just saying," He said, "Could be. You never know."
"It's a bird."
"Yes. It does seem to be a bird."
"I'm ringing the guild."
"Best to do that. Yes."
|
Ren spat out her tea when she heard the door slam open with Tori- her daughter run into the living room with a large, brown and red-dotted egg cradled in her arms.
"Mom! Mom!" Tori announced, "Egg. I have an egg!"
With graceful weaving of her hands, Ren motioned her daughter to wait for her- after she placed her teacup on the table.
Ren knew how to talk, but thanks to the quirks of her biology was unable to talk during the day- except on rainy days where the air was moist enough for her vocal chords to work.
Ren entered the living room to find her daughter staring intently at the dragon egg, the egg places on a hemp cushion. She sat down and glanced to the egg then her daughter with a questioning look.
"The Dragon Rider's Guild gave me an egg for my initiation after I passed the rider's exam last week." Tori explained, "It's supposed to hatch later today."
Ren nodded and left the living room, returning with a second round of tea.
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mg8n277
|
lcioqgw
|
[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?"
|
"So what about you, Evey? What was it like pn Earth?"
I stayed silent for a moment. Thinking about the destruction of my home planet did *not* bring back good memories.
"Earth was beautiful, until its ultimate demise, of course."
The members of my party leaned in closer, hanging on to my every word.
"There were forests and oceans and mountains and deserts and glaciers... It was amazing. Our technology came at a cost, and the others didn't listen to the consequences that were to come.
"The planet started to become too hot, ultimately upsetting the natural order of things. Forest fires burned everything in their paths. Hurricanes wreaked havoc upon the coasts. Earthquakes and tsunamis separated what was once whole. Volcanos decimated islands. Glaciers melted, leading to the rising sea level and was the major cause of the destruction of the lives we once knew. It was our wake-up call, in a way.
"Instead of trying to save the planet, they started trying to save us. They built flying machines that could hover on the air indefinitely, with the right maintenence, and sent small groups of people down to the 'land' to scavenge for usable materials.
"That was, until less and less of the came back. They reported of their teammates acting almost... *feral*
"Scientists later discovered the cause of the sudden symptoms that strongly resembled rabies, but it was much worse: there was bacteria in the air that affected the majority of the population. Don't worry! I'm immune and cannot carry this, so you're all safe.
"Any way, some people who came back aboard were carriers of the disease, therefore, leading to a mass virus outbreak. This led to the ill-fated end of the majority of our population. Whoever's left of us are either immune or have never been exposed..."
The group was silent long after I finished.
*Did I bore them too much? This is my first time having an indepth conversation with them. I hope I didn't bore them...*
"That's more than our professors have ever taught us about Earth's history!" Alkzer said.
"Would you tell us more?" Mitzer said, clearly curious.
"I..."
*They wanna know more? Does this mean I* didn't *mess up?*
"What do you want to know?" I said, grinning.
|
I was taking a nice peaceful walk along the riverside when they appeared suddenly, out of nowhere, a strong light emanating downwards while they spiralled around me.
They looked otherworldly, and beautiful, with ethereal robes. They were singing in beautiful Carnatic music, with 2 mouths one on each head. Each head was keeping in sync with itself as well as the rest of the choir group.
Their faces had round glasses, the sort people wear in offices because the LED from the monitors disturbed them, on their forehead was a little spiky dot with 13 spikes emanating.
Upon closer inspection I noticed that each one had 6 limbs, 3 around their two heads, with 3 to walk with. Upon closer inspection I saw that each of these limbs had 7 ridges, with 13 digits on each.
Their leader in the middle of the choir spoke up:
"You are the chosen one. The prophecy says that every 273 years-" He sang
I asked "Wait, why isn't it a round number?"
"What? " The leader asked.
"Why isn't it a round number?" I asked again.
"Because it's the basis for our counting system" He replied. "You see, we count with our three hands, each of which have 7 ridges, with 13 digits on each. It helps, you know"
"So anyway, as I was saying, once every"
Sorry, no can do" I said firmly.
He said "But why not? You're the chosen one. "
"Ya so? It's not a round number" I said.
"What is a round number anyway?" He asked perplexed. "Anything that ends with 10" I said.
"Are you really denying your destiny over this?" He asked
"Uhh... yeah?" I told him.
"What if I got you a pizza?" He asked.
I pondered over it for a moment and replied - "Sounds perfect! I'm in. "
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llv21jb
|
llul0wz
|
[WP] As the princess and heir apparent of the kingdom you are the most sought after woman in the whole kingdom, with suitors lining up every day to ask for your hand in marriage. Today you finally accept the proposal of a suitor, causing a massive scandal.
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I was ten when I first declared that “no man would own my heart”. It was the first time my parents had tried to arrange a marriage between me and a Prince from a neighbouring kingdom. They told me that I needed to find “My knight in shining armour,” like all the princesses from the stories
They tried harder to marry me off when I turned seventeen, and It didn’t help that most of my suitors were men and I was wholeheartedly a lesbian.
The first time I had seen her she was training with the knights. Her parents, exiled royals from a neighbouring kingdom, had tried to get their only daughter to become a lady in waiting but she joined the knights. If I wasn’t heir apparent I would have done the same. My swordsmanship teacher seemed happier that I was training more often. Though I was often distracted whenever she was in the same room.
We had started sparring together soon after. I treasured those times. I got her promoted to my personal guard, any reason to be around her.
When she had come before me in front of the kingdom, she knelt before my throne, she couldn’t offer much, no lands other than what I had gifted her. No title other than Exiled Princess. The youngest child and only daughter. I don’t think either of our families were happy.
But I accepted her proposal. I had found what my parents told me to find. I had beaten their terms. Their only specification for me. I had found my knight in shining armour.
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\[Poem\]
I dreamt of a butterfly
Adrift in the winds of summer
Free from the confines of 'er own mind
To think as it wished
To love as it may
Yet in the shadows of Autumn
In those oppressive shades
Lay hands awaiting
Strings snatching wings away
And so fell the butterfly
Into the eternal dusk of Winter
A place of Hell and darkened embers
Hardened shrieks sounding
From those heavenly towers
Each crumbling down
As hope stolen by gathering shadows
Coalesce into bloom and May
Wings clipped, resolve thin
Yet inspired by coming Spring
The butterfly wept in sorrow
But from bloom came salvation
For out came a firefly
Casting the scheming darkness away
Inviting them to the dark
Embers alit with determination
The butterfly found 'er wings again
For when darkness shouted, yelled for doubts anew
They always had the firefly
The one brave and bold enough to let her fly again
For there was need for nothing more.
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lhldgq8
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lhl83sx
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[WP] The real reason you hate the villain is because they forced you to be the hero.
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The Ultimates, the Photon Five, Scorpion Cyclone, and many others.
Heroic Lineage, some even dating back to the days of the second world war. These families exist all around the world. Some try to blend in with society, and others live like celebrities in both civilian and hero life. Guess which of the two my family did.
I remember classmates who gossiped and cavorted, just imagining how much of a dream it must have been to be part of a hero family. Some would come up to me and tell me how lucky I am. How lucky I am that I get powers, how lucky I am that am part of a family of supers, how lucky I am I get to be a hero. Oh, I'm so lucky....
I would have gladly traded places. The little bastards thought it was a good thing? Like I ever had a choice. Not to mention that suddenly any of my actions reflected on the family, how I wasn't an average kid-I had to live up to something. My education never ended after school, at home private tutors expanded what I had to learn, private chefs managed my diet, personal trainers kept me on a strict plan. And all of it was necessary and all of it was on the government tab, who also kept tabs on us. I never had a choice.
I hated it.
There were strings on my limbs. They pulled, my limbs respond to their will. Dreams and aspirations...as long as it fit the plan, it was fine. The family plan. All I had to do was follow the script someone else wrote for my life...until I died. And since someone was keeping tabs, I couldn't quit. This was my life.
Then, a villain attacked my school. Some dipshit who wanted to make a name for themselves attacking the kids of supers, everyone else, kids of the upper echelons, was a bonus. He had an unusual ability. It seems like even he didn't understand what his powers were. I took advantage of it.
I was dead. Or at least everyone thought i was.
I later found out my older sister killed the guy, thinking he murdered me. I felt bad that she did it, but I knew that with him dead, there was no chance of people learning the truth.
I know. I'm a coward, a piece of shit. But I was free.
I quickly ran down a few folks I knew, bad folks who couldn't break away from their trade, and shook them down for their skills and silence. A new identity, a new life, and a ticket away from the only home I've ever known.
Since my family rubbed elbows with other families, I got to know of where they were, of where villains tended to attack. Needless to say, I already had a good idea of where to go. Somewhere remote, somewhere no one really cares about. And I gotta say, I was surprised on the way there.
Being a superhero means that you are at the center of conflict, right where the actions at. Constantly looking for trouble makes it feel like there's trouble every day. But on my travels, there was no super conflict, no robbers, no weirdo in a gimp suit with delusions of grandeur. It was just normal. Life was normal. I loved it.
When I made it to the remote town I started my life all over. I had my troubles. I had to figure out problems I never had to deal with before, like making a living and paying bills. I had to find a trade and make myself useful outside of my powers. I had to learn common sense. I had to relearn how to live life as a normal person. It was awesome.
It was hard work, there were times I felt like crying, times I felt so useless, times were I regretted my choices. But I did it. I made a name for myself in my local community, people liked and found me reliable for **my** own skills and talent, not what I was born with or into. And...and I even found love; someone mom and dad wouldn't have approved of, someone the gov genealogist definitely wouldn't approve (the old windbag kinda favored lighter skin tones if you catch my drift). And I was happy.
I had my own troubles, my own messes to sort out...I had my own life. I was happy.
That's why I hate you.
It's not because you attacked the earth, it's not because you beat most of the heroes half to death, it's not even because you threated to end the world.
It's because you forced me to be a hero again. My family, the family I chose and the family I created...the whole world now knows I'm alive and who I am. I'm not even sure how I'm going to face my wife after this. The look she gave me when I used my power....
And for that, I'm going to kick your fucking ass!
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The Major directed me to the cell he was in. Water bled through the walls at this level of the prison. Four Constable Mark IVs followed behind, each one was the result of R&D costing more than the annual GDP of a small country. "I'll remain outside, if anything were to go wrong the cell will be flooded with Chlorine gas at a concentration of 100,000 ppm. It'll stay like that for 30 minutes, which then the sanitation process would begin." He scanned his iris and entered a code, causing a Nuclear blast graded door to slowly hiss open. When were on our way again he continued, "After the two-hour sanitation, we'll open the hatch and these bad boys," the Mark IVs "will enter and retrieve your body." He stopped in front of the cell "So don't let anything go wrong.
He slept on the floor, underneath his twin-sized bed, the only dark place in the cell, I guess they didn't turn the lights off. "Get out." He said openly.
"No." After a brief pause, laughter began emanating off of the walls. He climbed out from underneath the bed looking rougher than ever. "Son. Of. A. Bitch." He said, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" It was rhetorical.
"Move over," I said, he slid down the mattress patting the empty spot next to him. "Look, a new guy is causing some problems on the surface and he has some of your designs, and the SECDEF wants to know how." He looked at me.
"Really? That's why you're here?" He laughed heartily, "We both know that's not the reason."
"Oh?" I responded, he cut me off before I could get another word,
"Why are you here?"
I clenched my jaw, "People are in danger." I said half-heartedly, "This infor-"
"Oh, cut the fucking act, will you? You don't give a rat's ass about anyone but yourself."
"And you do?"
"A hell of a lot more than you do! So what, some asshole stole my plans. If you don't recall; You people took them the minute I got stuffed away down here. We both know some dejected DOJ employee with too much access just wants to make a name for themselves. You want some help with this new guy? How about you do him like you did me?" I stayed silent, "Huh? Cat got your tongue, motherfucker?"
"You got a lot of nerve, you know that?"
"I do?"
"Yeah, you fucking do!" I stood up.
"Please enlighten me."
"You act like it's my fucking fault that you're down here. You love handing out blame like it's a free fucking sample!" I lowered my voice, and stuck my finger in his face, "Well, let me help out for a change. How about you look in the mirror? And maybe, just maybe you'll find the only Goddamned person responsible for fucking up your life. You!" I breathed heavily, waiting for a smart response, but none came.
"I just wanted to help." He looked down. "There are so many rules, so many safeguards. Everything needs to be tested, and tested again, and again, and again. I would've saved lives. Yeah so what, I didn't call the FDA, or file a patent, it would've been years, so many would've died. Maybe the dose was wrong, and the formula was a bit off. They were going to die anyway, the trade-off made sense."
"Why did you run?" I asked, taking back my seat. "I could've helped you."
"I couldn't let you be complicit. It wouldn't have been fair to you, to Mom." he sighed, "You think I wanted this? For all my intelligence, I panicked, I went off the deep end and didn't even realize I was drowning until it was too late."
"I would've helped you anyway. I hate being the poster boy. I can't stand getting a call every time an asteroid is going to hit Earth. Or some asshole wants to see the world burn. I didn't want to be a hero, that was always you."
"His name is Victor Holland, he works at Krios Corp." I knew it was the end of the conversation. I stood up, and looked at the camera, the cell door begin to hiss open. "Hey," I stopped outside the door, "Don't come back, brother."
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k6hoop7
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k6haflh
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[WP] You are isekai'd into a world of magic, you are the hero, at the request of the kingdom, you defeat the demon king, destroy the abyss armies, and even slay the dragon lord, all under promise that you will get to return home. Ultimately, they tell you, they don't know how to send you back.
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"It has been said, in my world, that a man's value is measured three ways: by the truth and honor in his words, by the virtue of his actions, and by the company he keeps."
Of all the reactions I could have had, this was obviously not expected. That is acceptable, as it let's me continue.
"I must, therfore, ask what you have done as sovereign of these grand halls." The advisor's eyes went wide at that, she did always seem like a clever one. "Please, correct me if I am wrong. You have not rallied your forces, but called upon magic you do not understand to summon a champion. You have then made a promise to this champion, which you were not certain you could keep. And all this was done, while surrounded by sycophants who would not dare oppose you lest they diminish their own power."
By this point, the king had grown pale, "Missing much of the day-to-day, but apt given our limited interactions."
"Then, by associating with you, I raise you up and diminish myself." Again they are surprised, so I sigh, "Must I already remind you that my value is based on the company I keep? Put simply, I will be removing myself, farewell." I begin to walk away, my footsteps echoing through the vaulted halls.
The king sputtered at that, "You won't kill me?"
"And grant you a noble death? No." I turn back, and let my emotions show. Sheer malice radiates from me, and everyone is forced back from the weight of it. "I am, frankly, to strong at this point. I would give you a swift death you do not deserve. I cannot pluck your legs like the fattened insect you are, as that would be hedonism on my part. Retribution is pointless, but you make it *very* tempting. Give thanks to luck, or to any gods that rule that domain, that I am not going to succumb to that temptation." I take a calming breath, and release the fist I unthinkingly clenched. "So take this opportunity, and improve. Improve yourself, improve your nation, improve your judgment on who you keep as advisors. I am walking away. I suggest you not summon another hero unless you can send them back. They may not be so... restrained."
I begin walking toward the door again. Silence pervades the throne room. They would describe it as oppressive, but I think of it as serene. Finally, the quiet has returned after great turmoil.
Eventually, I take the handle, and think before I go. "I will be writing letters. Some will have advice, some will have notes, and I suggest you take the time to read them. I hope they can help." Nothing more must be said.
Unaccosted, I leave the capital, and establishe a small hut in the woods. Now and then, I travel to the local village to send and receive letters, but primarily, I delve further into magic. That they cannot send me home only speaks to their abilities.
Perhaps I can do this by myself.
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One would expect an angry reaction, but after going through and doing so much killing, the amount sacrificed just to stay alive, I was broken. I simply teleported away, and took the time off to myself. I just decided to just go through and build a house in the woods, and live my life there instead till they found me a way back, or I died.
Eventually, some lost wanderer ended up at my house. I helped him and fed him. I quickly found out I was portrayed as dead after killing the Dragon Lord. I helped him get back, and waved him off.
Four weeks later, over 10 people had showed up at my cabin. I was confused. It was people from the nearby village wanting to come over and give thanks, which I had trouble denying. I soon needed to make another cabin to hold all the visitors I was receiving. Then another, and another, a fourth, a fifth, a *sixth* one. In only a year, this place had become a practical village.
I was in an unclaimed land, and so the village was named Aranville after me, which I quickly managed to get them to rename Khecea. Khecea was quickly growing, and the first births happened five months after my slaying of the Dragon Lord. Again, why did so many people try to name their kids after me, I clearly didn’t want that?
I managed to get them to organize a town government that didn’t have me as a leader or even advisor in some form. I decided to use my old world’s knowledge to help set up a mayoral council and judges, mimicking the three branches of a democracy.
I eventually died at the good old age of 96. I actually needed to make myself die, the magic can keep you alive a long time. I never married here, deciding to stay loyal to my wife of old. I just hoped she was fine, after everything. I couldn’t blame her though if she remarried. Again, just hoped she was happy.
Khecea managed to prosper, I had set it up for surviving beyond one man. It soon grew, and the Republic grew to match and even surpass the Kingdom of Soton, annexing it only 200 years after creation. Something that the Kheceans were working on was how to get back to my world, mainly just to see if they could. 206 AKF(After Khecea Founding) they had managed to breach the veil, and started to engage with the United Nations of Sol.
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jekf4ir
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jejusdg
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[WP] A cult is about to sacrifice a child in the name of their dark god. That's when the deity shows up and says: "People, my house is teeming with these kids you keep sending me. It would please me more if you raised them yourselves in a responsible manner."
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A chill fell over the altar room. Usually there was a roaring wind of the Everlasting Void, but this was less the "mixing of mundane and profane tethers" and more "very unhappy Eldritch God".
High Priest Zerul (nee Phillip Tillbury) swallowed in a dry throat.
"I...how can we best serve the Higher Powers."
"Start by setting some clear boundaries of acceptable behavior." The Unfathomable Presence sighed. "I don't blame the young ones, of course. They've grown up without any sort of structure, no guidance or stability...now, I respect the challenges they've faced, but I just don't have the bandwith to handle these kids and the underpinnings of creation at onc--I'm sorry, would you like to say something?"
High Priest Zerul closed his mouth which apparently had been hanging open.
"No! No, please."
The Impossible Being pinched what would have been the bridge of its nose.
"All I'm saying, is before you send these kids to me, do make sure they have at least some manners before they arrive?"
"Yes! Yes, manners."
"I'm not asking for much. Little Haley nearly bumped into the melting point of helium which, let me tell you, that would not have been a good day for any of your stars."
The High Priest's blood pressure shot high enough that it began to vibrate like a violin string. He nodded, his face stretched into such a grimace that his cheeks began to crack. Anything to end the conversation that they might get back to enjoying the fruits of their sacrifice.
Just as the Herald of the Unknown Forces was about to leave, a voice piped up behind him
"Wait. So they're like...still there?"
Oh no. It was Acolyte Webthree.
The High Priest could tell immediately tell by the voice. The young Acolyte had insisted on his unconventional name in spite of centuries of tradition. A generation donation from Webthree's had fixed that. The High Priest had given explicit instructions that, no mater how much money Acolyte Webthree's father paid, that he was *not* to be allowed in the summoning room. Another generous donation had modified those instructions. Now Webthree was at his side, with his limited edition robes, gazing up with impenetrable stupidity at the Source Node of All Things.
The Entropic Caretaker had no body to speak of that could be perceived by human flesh. It was beyond comprehension and understanding. But the High Prince could have sworn that he saw his Omnipotent and All-Powerful God *blink*. It turned to "face" Webthree, gazing through him with all the warmth and tenderness of a black hole.
"Where else would they be?" it asked.
Webthree shrugged. "I dunno. Dead? I mean, I'm not gonna ask what you do with them, everyone's gotta make their money right? I just thought--"
Just then, Webthree's voice stopped, as if it had never started. As if nothing had ever been, or would be. The High Priest, Webthree, and everyone else in the room found themselves in a space full of nothing. Slowly, the nothing filled with stars--hundreds of thousands of gleaming, rather upset stars. Upset, for the stars did not twinkle. They *blinked*. And behind every star was a "sacrifice", looking down upon them with arms folded and very, *very* angry.
"I've changed my mind," said the Void. "Now it is *you* who will learn your manners."
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# Soulmage
**Zhytln swept her impassive gaze over the small crowd of children outside her home.** I'd tried to make sure she wouldn't recognize me in particular, but... in the end, there was no disguising myself when I knew she could simply look into my soul. I just had to blend in with the crowd and hope she didn't single me out.
"I," Zhytln announced, "am thoroughly disappointed with your parents."
The crowd of children exchanged confused glances, murmuring to each other.
"I have already consumed all the desirable portions of your soul. You have no more moments of high emotion, positive or negative, for me to absorb. Your dreaming minds have been optimized; I cannot recall the last time any of you were distracted by a nightmare. I have no further interest in interacting with you. I have made this abundantly clear to your guardians. And yet I find you here time and time again."
So she hadn't seen me yet. I saw her frown as she started a headcount, realized there was one more child than was ordinarily here, but before she could finish, one of the children piped up. Svette, if I remembered her name correctly.
She raised a shy hand; to my surprise, Zhytln actually nodded and called on her as if she were a teacher in front of a classroom. "I—er, I can't—I can't speak for everyone, but... we're here because you're... nice."
Zhytln stared at the girl. "Nice," she finally said.
She nodded. "You made me feel better when... when the... the thing happened. The bad thing."
Zhytln sighed. "I suppose this is not an unexpected side effect from my predilection towards rewriting your memories to treat me more fondly. I consume memories of great emotional import, Svette. If all of yours are moments of trauma, then our relationship is mutually beneficial. But I have taken all I wish to from your soul. Please inform your parents to send other children next time."
"My parents didn't send me here," Svette mumbled.
Zhytln just stared at her.
"I am busy," she finally said. "Unless any of you have anything more for me to take..."
And finally, Zhytln's eyes alighted on me. I was small for my age, and she hadn't been using her soulsight until now. But she had to have seen the roiling storm of glass and salt inside my soul.
"So you listened to my offer," Zhytln said. "You have so many memories whose absence would calm your soul."
Silently, I nodded. There was no need to confirm what she already knew.
She held out a hand. "Then come in, Cienne. We have a lot of work to do."
A.N.
This story is part of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. Check out the rest of the story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/), and r/bubblewriters for more!
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lkelliw
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lkei5ly
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[WP] “So my mom is half-Fae, and my dad is half-dragon; that’s where my powers come from. How about you?” “I’m half-mermaid on my mom’s side, hence the wheelchair.” Your new magic school roommates suddenly turn to you. “What about you?”
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\[Sharp Lineage\]
There was a half second of silence as Dara felt two sets of eyes on her back. She'd already been relaxing on her bed when the conversation started and she didn't expect, nor hope to be included. But, she realized the only other two girls in the room gave their origin, so she sighed and slowly turned around.
"Me?" she asked. Both girls giggled and nodded.
"Yeah," the one that wasn't in a wheelchair, Phantae, nodded. She had sparkling golden hair that seemed to shed fairy dust with every up and down motion.
"We're gonna be roommates all year, let's get to know each other," the other one said. Shayla, the half-mermaid, had faint, but noticeable scales on her face and her short hair was aqua blue.
"Yeh, maybe," Dara shrugged and turned to give her roommates her full attention. "My mom's a human," she said. She ended the statement with a curt smirk, then looked to Phantae to continue the conversation.
"Maybe?" Phantae asked. "You're not planning to stick around?"
"What was your dad?" Shayla asked.
"Still undecided," Dara shrugged. "I guess it depends on if there's anything for me to learn here," she answered one of the questions.
"We're here to learn magic," Phantae gestured at herself and Shayla. "Aren't you?"
"Not specifically," Dara shook her head. "I guess you could say I'm here to learn about the magic used here; but, other than that I just like going to new schools. It's kind of fun always being the new kid, no one expects anything yet."
"But..," Phantae started with one thought; then hesitated to glance at Shayla with notable confusion. "... I mean. This is a super prestigious, HIDDEN, magic school. It's not like you just up and 'decided' to start coming one day.. right? You're going to give up all the opportunities to go to a normal school?"
"I can," Dara nodded. "Thanks to my mom, I can go to literally any school I want. And, there are plenty of other magical and 'other' super-types of schools. I don't have to go to a normal one; but, I wouldn't be giving up anything if I did."
"There are...? Like what?" Phantae asked.
"But, your mom's just a human," Shayla added. "Maybe your dad has some pull? What is he?"
"Schools for people that have Super powers, all kinds of magic schools, ninja academies. Pretty much anything you can think of, it exists and my mom can get me in," Dara nodded. This time, she turned and met Shayla's eyes for a lingering moment of silence to make a clear point. The mermaid girl hadn't spent a lot of time with humans and the obvious dismissal was lost on her. She waited patiently, expecting Dara's answer, until Phantae spoke up again.
"Whoa... I had no idea all that existed...," she said. "Do you have any powers?" she added the follow-up question.
“Kind of,” Dara shrugged. “I can copy powers temporarily.”
“Oh, nice!” Phantae nodded.
“You steal powers? Humans don't do that, did you get it from your dad?”
“No.” Dara turned and answered, though Shayla didn't know which question was answered. Then, Dara continued before she could ask.
“I don't STEAL powers, I copy them. Anyone I do it to can still use their powers. You're really interested in my dad, you didn't say anything about yours.”
“He wasn't important,” Shayla shrugged. “Same old story about a fisherman and a mermaid, and it didn't work out. I'm sorry,” she added. “I didn't realize it was nosy… I was just curious about you… Where I come from, who a person's parents are says a lot of about them… too much, really.”
“Not important, huh?” Dara met Shayla's eyes again, this time with warmth. “I can understand that. My dad was nonexistent. My ability to copy came from my mom.”
“But, she's just a human isn't she?” Shayla asked. She felt like they'd finally connected and Dara even nodded.
“She's a human, though very smart. She created me with this power.”
“C.. created?” Phantae asked. Dara nodded with a grin.
“I might not be descended from a magical creature, but I'm not exactly normal either. My mom, both of my mothers, made me in a lab.”
“Whoaaaa,” both of the other girls exclaimed in awe.
“Are you sure?” Shayla asked.
“Your parents told you about it? Do you have any siblings?” Phantae added her questions.
“I have two sisters, they weren't created like I was. I'm kind of special that way,” she grinned.
“I'll bet,” Phantae said.
“Wait!” Shayla called for attention.”So when you said your dad was ‘non-existent’ you meant literally!?”
“Yeah,” Dara nodded. “Two moms and science.”
“It's not as weird as fairy and dragon parents, but that's pretty wild,” Phantae said.
“Well, if you're asking for weird specifically…,” Dara grinned and leaned forward to talk in a softer, more secretive tone. “...I can also tell you I was born on Mars.”
\*\*\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #2415 in a row. (Story #241 in year seven). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place in my universe.
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"I'd rather not say. It's a long story and kind of embarrassing." I practically whine, even though I hate appearing weak unnecessarily, my Infernal blood actively speeding up through my body.
"Oh come on, we all said where we're from. It's only fair you do, too." Gwyndolen was about to start begging if I didn't answer. That had to be the Fairy part of heritage, Fairies can't stand not finding out knowledge.
"Okay, fine, but order pizza because I'm hungry, and it'll be a long time before I'm done talking."
Gwyn clapped in excitement, perking up and immediately pulling her phone out from her personal storage space, tracing a set of runes using a glowing finger. I had always marveled at how effortless magic was for dragon-kin.
"Okay, I'll order 2 party pizzas, everyone. Give me your selections." Gwyn really didn't mind letting her dragon show. She was wildly rich and also regularly took charge of conservations so as to move it forward if she noticed things were stagnating. She was very useful in group projects.
"I'd like thin sliced pineapple and ham. I'd prefer rings over chunks for the pineapple, but I don't know if they have that available," Johnny piped up from his bean bag, his satyr heritage showing through while his hair was ruffled by an unseen breeze. He enjoyed using his Aurae heritage to manipulate the wind to male his already handsome visage even more breathtaking.
"A meat lovers selection for me, please." Tyler was an interesting mix as he was a Mertaur, though he had an interesting divergence from most other halfsies. His parents cast a spell of protection so he would be able to embody the best of worlds. He was 9 feet tall, covered in bull's fur, had standard Minotaur horns, the ability to breathe underwater, and a mermaid-esque tail, though he also had actual bull legs. The tail was positioned similarly to that of Curious George, from the kids' books. However, it wasn't as thick as a regular mermaid's tail and was twice as long. He had a spell that could shorten it for while he was on dry land, which Jennifer helped him modify so the spell would auto-activate once he was out of water.
"Same for me as well." Jennifer, the half-eidolon, half-Fae did enjoy her protein and carbs. She was 7 feet tall, her hair was long and silky looking. Her clothes were a part of her being, which meant she could dress up however she wanted. She was always dressed up in the finest clothes available. She also was able to see the Threads, which were the lines of magic that spells used, and let her basically cheat through any tests.
"I'll take extra pepperoni, extra cheese, extra marinara and a garlic and herb butter crust," I spoke up. I hoped they wouldn't before the pizza gets here because I'm not sure if I can eat all that by myself, even if I am half-Devil, half-Angel.
"Okay, so this all started during the Big Bang War. Well, at the end of the Big Bang War. When my parents decided they were done fighting to the death over and over again in an effort to supplant the other's faction. My father, Lucifer, and my mother, Gaia, decided that the best path forward, for existence to flourish, was for them to be bound in union and rule as equals, sadl-"
"What's the Big Bang War? I never heard of that." Johnny interupted. Completely missing or ignoring the fact that I just said I was the child of the two beings that made the universe itself.
"Oh, that's when existence itself started, basically..." I briefly explained the war and how it worked, and what angels and lesser devils actually were, silently very happy that Johnny was either a chill enough guy or just so stoned he couldn't care, while the other 3 seemed to be watching on with expressions of extreme shock and horror.
Sadly, the pizza arrived and interuppted me, which then gave the time for Gwyn, Tyler, and Jenn to thoroughly interrogate me, completely erasing my worries thar they'd be scared off.
Granted, I was under glamours that made me appear like a hawk-winged Werewolf, rather than the actual appearance of mine, which was an 8 foot tall, 4 foot wide brick of a humanoid, with clawed hands and feet, a prehensile tail with a barbed tip, scales across my body, horns growing out of my shoulders, elbows and knees, I had the head of a falcon, and the legs of a beast. I had a set of wings that matched my falcon head in plumage color and animal of origin.
I was still scared to show them that, but at least I knew they were my friends for now, and that was good enough.
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j9dyrd1
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[WP] You're immortal, and have passed the 'hero' phase centuries ago. You enter a small coffee shop one day to find that it's owned by your millennia-old arch-nemesis. You really, really just want a chai latte though.
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"Listen Chris.... You by Chris now. Right?... Laftia was 120 years ago. If I could go anywhere else I would." I said as I removed my hood.
"Charlatan!" Chris yelled.
As Runes lit up beneath my feet and I lifted in the air
"only 9 Sides to the containment star" I laughed to myself as I dispelled the poorly laid trap with anti-magic in my shoelaces.
Landing gracefully on the ground l looked him dead in the eyes
"It's a very nice shop you have here. I'm very grateful your open at 1 am."
The anger in his eyes was evident but he was listening at least. I shrugged.
"Hot chia latte no foam, please. I promise I'll tip well." As I laid the pendant on the table
"Where the hell did you even" Chris gasped with surprise
"Soy if you have it please" I smiled
10 minutes passed and Chris showed up at my table.
"I go by toph now you have some nerve"... "But that pendant I was sure it was destroyed" toph said as he handed me the chia.
"It's a long story" I laughed "but when isn't it with people like us"
|
"Hey, you look kinda familiar."
"Oh gods dammit. Why the fuck are you here?"
"Oh. You. Look, I'm over that shit from way back when. I'm just running this coffee shop & don't give a shit about our old beef. I'm not gonna be your friend, but I'm not looking for us to continue the fight. So ya want a drink or are you gonna get out?"
"I'll just have a chai latte. That's it."
"Sorry, we don't make those here. Anything else?"
"Nope. Too strong of a craving. I'll be back at some point to get something else."
"Alright. See ya round, cousin."
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kgnpvu6
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[WP] You are an alien sent to Earth in order to conquer it. You began your plan by impersonating a human. It's been 5 years now, and you still haven't completed your task.
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To be honest as of the five years I've been on this messy, poorly-run planet, I've become fond of the variety of cultural, technological, and societal presences the humans have managed to carve from themselves and their world.
Sure, they're honestly terrible at recognising the climate calamity they've ignored for political reasons, but they're good at creating some really... weird, but concerningly familiar, stuff.
As of the time here I've recognised 90% of human created content for the versions found in the Orion Creative Commons. And they predate them.
From my research and how easy it was to pass as a human - the sharp ears and slender forms my kind have seem to be easily dismissed as just one of those builds people just 'have'.
That or they're too used to races like mine in fiction.
Where was I? There's just too much to go through and disseminate. I'll go for a logical recommendation:
Adjust attack vector for fiction, or just be casual and conquer them politically. It's really easy; just settle in among them and they'll eventually get along with you.
Reason for my recommendation:
Humans have atomic reactive detonation weaponry. Aptly dubbed 'nukes'. These dehabitate regions for hideously long timeframes and the few times they've used it on themselves, they've realised they have no 'undo button' for the matter.
Also this language is English to them. Why we somehow have a 1:1 conversion rate with a language on a planet with climate nodes compatible with most of the Orion-locale species, each with ecosystems that interlock to -try- and give the planet a thriving and contested state of being...
Well, whatever 'nature' had in mind, it mucked up, because humans.
The more I study these beings the more I see bits of, well, all of us, in them.
So, for the sake of not being oppressed by any possible xenophobic galaxy-spanning empire that can manifest from this genepool that you'd know as Sol3 and humanity, our priority should be to show them a good time.
By 'a good time' I mean give them a live-trial of how the Orion Arm handles living situations, except...
We'll be co-opting -their- local technology and knowledge for this so they get to learn - maybe we might get some new tech and scientific discoveries from this?
I mean, we've done similar before for civilizations - even to ourselves over our long lives - within the Orion Arm, which was how we've managed to have the wonderful community we're indebted to for willing to stick with us.
This is why I'm resorting to taking my mission in an abstract form; this may be one of those 'slow-cook' things which will take a bit of compassion (by this I mean hugs, some humans seem to be in a terrible need of that from what I've seen, even on their equally chaotic virtual world-network).
Consider this an initial report that will lead a series of reports as I, Drathiel Ymannrir, try my best to give you an up-to-date'r on Sol3's situation.
If anything happens to me it will be reported as soon as I can.
|
'Howdy, neighbor!'
'Hey there, Allen!' I said brightly. 'How's the family?'
'Oh, y'know, taking it day by day!' Allen replied, winking. 'Yours?'
'All good, thanks for asking!'
'Hey, you and Maria want to come over for dinner on Friday? I picked up some prime rib from Finlayson's and was gonna cook it.'
'I'll check with Maria, but that sounds amazing to me! Put us down for a firm maybe, and I'll let you know for sure tomorrow.'
'Alright, perfect!'
Allen continued on down the street to his house. I smiled, strolling up to the front door of mine.
Buster scampered over from the corner of the yard. The faithful dog had been the first of three to sense that I was different, that I was not actually Mr. Daniel Coleman.
That had been six years ago, however, and by now, the dog was used to me, plenty of treats, bellyrubs, and praise having convinced the dog of my trustworthiness.
The front door swung open. Jimmy ran outside, followed by Amy. I could not help but smile upon hearing their excited chatter.
'We're going over to Grandma's tonight!' Jimmy exclaimed.
'Did you bring your bathing suits?' I asked.
'You betcha!' Amy shot back.
'Wonderful! You two have a blast!'
Their grandmother, Daniel Coleman's mother, followed them outside. As usual, her hug was strong and affectionate. She had been the second to sense something was amiss with the man who was supposed to be her son, and I had gleaned from conversations that Daniel had not been an upstanding son, husband, or father.
Which meant that his wife, the third person to sense something was amiss, had not pressed much for the truth. She had been all too happy to have this improved version of her husband.
'Have fun, kids!'
'Bye Mom, bye Dad!'
I slipped into the house, and Maria closed the door behind me.
In seconds, her robe was on the floor, and this lovely, voluptuous woman was devouring my lips like a starving dulgrynok.
'We have the house to ourselves, lover,' she murmured, her voice husky and soft against my neck. 'What do you want to do?'
It had not taken much to sway me into staying here and continuing, nay, improving upon Daniel Coleman's life. The simple comforts and pleasures were more than enough to entice someone like me, whose life prior to assignment on Earth had been full of conquest, war, and slaughter. Humans had access to plentiful delights, many of which they took for granted. And I had one such delight immediately spring to mind.
'Darling,' I replied. 'I want to lick whipped cream off your breasts.'
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j8bq1m8
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[WP] As a Barbarian, you hate that just because you have a different lifestyle, your party looks down on you and assumes you are incapable of basic intelligent thought. Today you had enough.
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The battle against the dragon was difficult, and even I was beginning to feel the pain caused by it's blows. Whenever it took off into flight, I would watch it, waiting for it to land, while my companions would beginning firing with bows, or casting spells.
"Bolan, just stand back while it's in the air!" Alander shouted before downing a mana potion, signaling that he was running low.
That wasn't the first time one of them had said that, and the fact that the guards where joining in made it worse.
"That's it!" I shouted after another one of them insulted me, rushing towards one of the nearby ballista.
"Bolan, what are you doing!" Alexis shouted, her face filled with fear.
I grabbed the ballista, ripping it off the ground, before firing it at the dragon's wing. The beast roared as the massive bolt pierced it's limb, removing it's advantage of flight as it came crashing down. As the dust settled, I grabbed three more bolts, loading one as I walked towards the beast.
The dragon roared in pain as the bolt pierced it's eye. I fired another bolt into it's other one, blinding it.
"YOU DARE TO CRIPPLE ME, MORTAL?!" It roared in fury.
"What do you think dipshit?" I said, before undercutting it, sending his head flying up and backwards, flipping it onto it's back.
I climbed atop it, aiming the ballista at it's heart. "WAIT, I CAN MAKE YOU THE MOST POWERFUL WARRIOR IN THE LAND, JUST PUT DOWN THE WEAPON, MORTAL!"
I looked it in the eyes. "...sure-"
"What?! Bolan, don't listen to i-" Johnathan shouted, his guise filled with fear and despair.
"After I kill you with it."
The dragon roared in pain as the man sized bolt pierced it's heart, ending it's life. I dropped the ballista, jumping off of the corpse. My party member looked on in awe, and I looked at each of then in turn.
"I''m not an idiot, you know." I told them, before heading towards the town.
"W-Where are you going?!" Alexis shouted.
"TO DRINK UNTIL I WAKE UP IN TWO DAYS!" I shout before lifting the portcullis, letting iti slam back down as I enter the gates.
|
"This enough."
Everyone at the table raises their eyes from the dice roll.
"I mean, this time I'm gonna show you my brute force. Cognitive wild force."
Everyone's silent.
"I'm dead serious, I have enough of me being the stupid one. You all just making fun of me, enough of that shit."
"We shall not make fun of you, Grog, but this task requires our most uh... insightful opinions on the matter at hand, yeah", replied Anne the warrior.
"Fuck you whore!". That's what I say.
"Wait, is that still in character?" asks Ann, who's Anne the warrior also.
"Fuck you", I just keep going.
"Yeah, he just drank half tavern, don't mind him", says Patricia the rogue, apologetically almost.
"Shall we ease up a moment... wait, are you serious?" says Hollyander the wizard. Or Alexander, who's Hollyander also. He's Ann's boyfriend.
"I'm dead serious. I had enough. I'm not stupid. I'm just a Barbarian, okay? That's just a label, it doesn't mean I'm stupid, it means I have different abilities and such."
"Err.. okay?" says Alexa the druid. "You drunk?" says Alexa, who's Alexa also.
"I'm not drunk, I just drank a lot, okay?" I'm on a roll. A dice roll. And the roll is 1.
"Dude, we're just playing, it's just a..."
"That's way too much..."
"Yo, calm down."
I confound their voices, I'm not sure who's speaking anymore. My head is going pandemic on me.
"I'm gonna slaughter you all", I think I wanna add 'with my axe', but I'm not even sure I got an axe anymore. I'm not even sure I mean that.
They all get up. Table in front of me is trembling. I'm not sure it's a tavern anymore.
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jktx7hu
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jkt9qha
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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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After calming me down (i had just died, i was understandably a little agitated) he sat me down to explain heaven.
Turns out it's kind of boring, you can request most of anything you want of, as he put it, "The big G up top" and you'd get it, so we requested coffee while he explained why heaven felt so lonely.
"Okay so, heaven has s ton of regulations going in, but it's pretty chill once you are sorted, the big issue is the sorting, it's overtly specific. Say, a woman is drowned by her angry ex, and an olympic swimmer passes out while training and drowns, you'd expect both are "Death by drowning" right? Well, no, the woman goes to the room for "Women drowned by their ex" and the swimmer goes to "Athlete drowned during training" meaning heaven got turned into a big big group of cliques sorted by how they arrived."
After a moment to process this i exclaimed "So we're the room for.."
"Yes, we are "Wheelchair users who thought that hill wasn't so steep and they could decelerate enough" so it'll take a while before we got enough people to play cards."
"Huh, well, wana request a game cube and play Mario Kart then?"
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“Where am I?” I said out loud to no one in particular, just trying to get my bearings. I remember…everything fading to black, but surely I would snap out of it. Right?
“Heaven.” Replied a familiar looking man. Where did I know him from? “I’ve been waiting ages for someone else to show up here. When you die and go to heaven, you get grouped up with people who died in the same way.”
“I died?” I said as it all came rushing back to me. Like the rush of blood and oxygen I had been expecting, but not the way I had expected it. Then the embarrassment. Now I knew why he seemed so familiar.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Carradine.”
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mmml82q
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mmm0m83
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[WP] Welcome to utopia! No, really, we won! We did it. We ended war, ended prejudice, ended famine. Everyone's happy. Everyone's fulfilled. Everyone's safe. Stop looking for a dark secret. Stop trying to find a flaw. Why can't you just accept the world is perfect now?
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“Welcome to Utopia.”
The Mercenary God Sable followed the greeter. “Nice name,” She said as she was led into a nice mall. “Interesting you don't use it on any of the shops or such.”
“Er, no. The city's named Eris-Contess actually.”
“So why did you call it a utopia?” Sable picked up a brochure and stared at it. Without Godly Translation abilities, she'd be sure she wouldn't be able to understand it.
“Because we are one. A flawless place, perfect for everyone. No wars, no hunger…”
“Mmm,” Sable sighed, putting the brochure back and pulling out one of her small blades, “and how much mind control did you use on your citizens?”
“We would never. Everyone is here of their own free will and everyone is happy because we are a good community. No brainwashing or drugs involved at all.”
“Yet, I don't believe that. Perhaps you kill off all the unhappy people, perhaps people aren't as happy as they seem, but I've been to a lot of places in my long life, and I have never seen a utopia, and I don't believe I will ever see one,” Sable said as she remembered her own past. Perhaps, she stared at the greeter, this world was touched by the Peace Gods. To her, it seemed like they lacked free will, but then again, the Pacified, never called their homes utopian.
“We do nothing of that type here.”
“Fine. I'm still not calling your town a utopia because it isn't and it does have flaws.”
“And what do you mean by that?”
“Well…” Sable took out one of her more fancy magical fireworks guns. “This.”
She fired a shot blasting the words “Eris-Contess is not a Utopia” into the air in bright green and red fireworks.
“If you don't believe me, you can't stop me from saying that without doing something that would make your town not a utopia,” Sable smirked, “and if you don't stop me, then, someone will consider my continuous actions a flaw with your town.”
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I took a deep breath. Counting every prime and Fibonacci number I could remember. The Stepford smiler in front of me had no single idea of what IT is saying.
*They did it?* Wrong... They didn't. They waited until everyone was too tired to fight back, just like what Asimov's Hurrians did many times in "The Gentle Vultures".
*Everyone is happy* Wrong again... Humanity is a bag of contradictions and self cancelling ideas. The very idea of Democracy was a lie that many said to themselves to explain why they were so unhappy when the rest chose for themselves.
I take another deep breath.
"Why can't I accept the world as perfect?" I asked loudly, "Because that is a lie... The world would never be perfect, or convenient for everyone."
"Omelas was an example of that... But you wouldn't understand that..."
"Human nature is too complex to simply uniformize the idea of happiness and satisfaction."
"And even if you managed to make it for me exclusively... I know that someone out there would suffer for my choices. And that makes it a complete hell for me."
"So no, you thing... This will never be Utopia... "
I rose, now much calmer after releasing my anger against the human thing in front of me. And just when I was about to leave that room... The thing rises.
Slowly, a predator going after it's prey...
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[WP] "You're... NOT going to pursue the prophecy?" "Hell no. I had a really shitty life on Earth, and now I find myself isekai'd to a world without taxes or student loans. I'm not going to stress myself out being some "chosen one" when I could just live in a hut in the woods somewhere or whatever."
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“Greetings great hero! We have summoned you to help us in our plight!”
“Wtf, where am I? This reincarnation or…” waves arms and legs and wiggles around. “Nope. Still me. Feel better though…”
“The summoning has worked and we will ask you in your great power to…”
“Oh yeah! I get powers! Sweet!” Holds out hand, and force lifts priest up “you have failed me for the last time. I’m out of here!”
Grasping at neck “wait, you aren’t going to help us? Also, this isn’t how magic is supposed to work!”
“So let me get this straight. You kidnap me disrupting my life where I had a job making minimum payments trying to get out of debt from going to school to learn a subject I can’t find a job with so I’m making minimum wage because it’s the only job I can get and I can be replaced so easy, say I can’t go back, give me powers greater than you have yourself and you want me to solve your problems?”
“I never said you can’t go back. I can send you…” the magi flies across the room. WAM! Hits a wall.
“Sorry. I’m not going back. And I’m not doing your work. It’s not my chair, not my problem. You are going to give me directions out of here, and I’m going to go live off grid and not doing a thing for you!”
The magi stands up. “Sir, there is the door. Go north. You’ll find a forest. Whatever you want. Just please don’t …”. Watches the summoned hero bolt out the door. “Good heavens. The prophecy was right. Pull someone from that land when you want to feel better about your own world. And he’s going to go live in the forest without my intervention. Just his presence there will cast out the monsters we have been having a problem with. I’m also glad the prophecy told me to book a massage after the summoning… this is going on the kings bill.”
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I was never really a fighter anyway, and in my past life i was disabled and was always mistreated. So when i arrived here, and the king and mages told me i was some hero and had to fight in some war, i flipped the bird and left. I traveled for a while before settling down as a maid in a different kingdoms Castle, and it was peaceful. People look down on simple and mundane jobs, but i find it peaceful, anx I'm content. There's a lot of honour and pride in such jobs.....anyway, after a few years, i was working when a portal opened, the demon queen stepping out.
She looks me up And down before speaking"what the hell do you think your doing?" She confused, and more so a little angry, but i just simply responded"working." Before continuing to dust.
She was baffled, this had never happened before. The hero always fought the demon lord, it was just how it worked. Finally, she responded"why? If you don't stop me I'll conquer the continent!" She raises her voice. I turn to her, shrugging"I've looked into the city's you've conquered. Becides demons living with the humans there, nothing has changed. I really don't care."she looks at me once again, before wordlessly portaling away
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j9s9vgx
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[WP] You’re a villain who’s kidnapped one of the smartest guys on your nemesis’ team. They tell you no one’s coming for them because the hero doesn’t care. You thought they were bluffing, but it’s been a month & no one has shown up. After hearing them cry at night once again, you finally had enough.
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"He was the brains of their operations, yet here I am still waiting for someone to rescue this pitiful magic user of a sidekick!"
I paced the room I was in, my guards could clearly be seen trying to hide in the hallway. They wouldn't dare to interrupt my thinking again. But it just doesn't make sense!
"How has it been a month?! A whole month and that she-devil heroine hasn't tried once to look for him! It's not that I made it difficult to find him in the first place!"
I stopped pacing the room as I hear the audio from his security camera going off again. I walk over to the computer and listen... he's crying again.
Of course he can't do anything but sob into the gag in his mouth. He may be a weak hero, but there's no way I'm letting him speak and magic his way out of this. But I can't help but wonder, why is this taking so long?
I looked at the news reports, she should be looking for him every night (or so she claims on the news), yet I haven't seen her go looking in weeks!
*There is a knocking on the door*
I turn around with flames in my eyes as a guard now cowers in the doorway, "WHAT!?"
The guard barely speaks as he informs me that I should look at the newest report on channel 5.
I mumble as I go back to the computer and search the news. As soon as I do, a livestream pops up, it's her...
The heroine is on a stage with a deeply somber expression. She floats over to the microphone and gingerly takes it into her hand, "The news is true. My partner is officially proclaimed as dead. His body was found earlier last night at lake-"
I plunge my fist into the monitor in rage. "WHAT THE HELL?!"
"I can't believe it! She hasn't even tried! And now what's this about a body?! I can still here that sad sack crying over the intercom!"
At this point every guard in the area has run away to avoid whatever fury might be unleashed within this room and those adjacent.
I turn to the intercom and look at the screen showing me the prisoner. I press the button so he can hear me, "Listen up, you have 3 minutes to be ready to answer my questions. I'll be there shortly."
I then fly over to the abandoned building I left him in, sneaking down to the trapped basement and disarming every trap as I go. I then slam the door open and stamp my feet as I see him.
"Alright, listen to me and nothing has to happen... nothing else at least. I need you to answer my questions, and if you try to use your magic or something, then I'll do more than gag you to shut you up. Do you understand?"
He nods, ceasing his sobbing as I threaten him. I remove the gag and stand beside him, ready to knock him out the instant he tries something. But he just looks up at me and speaks in a quiet voice, "Did she give up yet? That must be why you're here."
I looked at him with a mixture of anger and confusion.
"You knew?! You knew she was giving up on looking for you?"
He looks down at the ground and nods again. "Yes, I knew after the first week that she wasn't really trying. I was able to figure out where you trapped me, and knowing how easy it should have been to find me made me think."
I look at him, angry that I still haven't gotten my answer, "But why? Why did she not even try to look for you? Don't you use your magic to protect her or use portals? I've seen you using portals before, I know that you're useful to her."
"I can do that, and yes I've made portals before, but she doesn't need any of that. It was popularity that she was after. It took me so long to realize it too. How she'd often wait till the last second to save people, tell me false information so that I'd fail and she could come in and "save the day" instead. It's all so clear to me now, and you just gave her exactly what she wanted. Every channel and home will hear about one of the world's top heroes and how she lost her sidekick to a villain's plotting."
I was furious, but as he spoke, it all made sense now. I had always claimed it as my intelligence and luck that kept those two from ever actually capturing me, but I have also failed to realize that this was only ever a popularity contest for her. She used him, and she used me!
I look down at my prisoner, "So you're telling me that all of the oppression, the battles, my resources and tech and schemes were all just being used by your partner to gain a positive public image?"
He nods with tears in his eyes. We had both been used, and I just gave that pathetic hero exactly what she wanted by kidnapping her partner. I sit beside him on the floor and join him in silence.
After a moment, he looks at me, "You know, maybe there's a solution to this."
I look back at him, I knew he was smart, but I didn't like the idea that he came up with an idea before I did. I silently cursed myself for being blinded by my emotions as I gesture for him to speak.
"Think about it, " he says, "if she is getting popular over my loss, then my return would be negative for her, wouldn't it?"
"It would, but we need to think about this more. How would we even accomplish this? I can't just bring you out into the open and let you go. She'd make everyone believe that it was her plan to make me give you up this way. I know it sounds absurd, but the less risk the better, and I could definitely imagine your old partner doing something like that."
"I see your point, but then what does that leave us? I need to be revealed to the public, but it can't be in a way that can give her any credit for my safety."
I look over at him as the gears in my head begin to turn. He's smart, and as far as I can see, he's compliant as well. Not to mention that we now have a similar enemy in mind.
A slight smile crosses my lips as I speak, "Well, I guess there's no point in keeping you here anymore, but seeing as we can't just let you go, I think I'll have to stay with me. Maybe you could help me think of a way to solve this problem. What do you say?"
Without a second thought, he turns to me and smiles back, "I think I'd really enjoy that. Let's work together on this, I want to see her face when realizes the mess she's made."
I smile wider and offer him my hand, "Then follow me."
|
My jaw was set because I did what needed to be done. The thought of stealing someone away from their family left a sick feeling inside of me because I knew exactly how it felt. I knew how it felt to be torn, screaming, from my mother and watch my father die in front of me.
That's why I needed to do this. I HAD to do this. Because he had to pay for what he did to me.
The drive back to the lair was quiet, except for some muffled thumping in the back from Ned. Poor Ned, such an easy target. You'd think he would've had more security for his only brother, but that fool was too trusting. I pushed the button that filled the back of the van with chloroform gas, and heard the thunk of his body hitting the floor.
\---------
Back at the lair, Ned was duck taped in a metal chair with a bag over his head. He had just woken up and was... surprisingly calm.
"Hello Ned." I started, being as menacing as possible.
"uhm... hi."
I blinked. I wasn't really expecting him to be so casual in this situation.
"...Hi." I started again. "Do you know who I am?"
"mmmm... nope. nope, can't say that I do."
"Then let me make it clear. From now on, you'll know me as 'your worst nightmare."
Ned snorted under the bag.
"what? did you just... okay. alright. you must be Ivan. Ivan, you know the burlap bag is permeable enough to see through, right?"
I smacked my forehead with my hand and promptly gave up.
"look, Ned, I don't want to hurt you, I just need your brother to come here so that I can hurt *him* because he's the one who's actually hurting the entire community. Ever since I was a kid I've been trying to show how bad he actually is and no one will listen which is why I've had to resort to-"
"I know."
"-What?"
"I know. I've been managing his finances for years, I know that he's a bad person."
That was the first time that anyone actually believed me. That I felt heard. I blinked back tears and cleared my throat.
"Right well. you're staying here until he comes for you and then you can do whatever you want."
"Can I go to the bathroom?"
I looked around at the abysmal cellar that I had thrown him into. I had sort of planned on him being unruly and rude, so there wasn't anything except a bucket in the corner. It was for intimidation. I suddenly felt a bit embarrassed at the accommodations.
"listen, do you super duper promise that you won't run away?" I asked Ned, my eyes narrowed.
"... Yes. I super duper promise"
I could tell that he was holding back laughter but I didn't care anymore. I walked over and pulled the hood off. Ned blinked and squinted his eyes up at me. And then he smiled.
"hi!"
".... hi."
I cut all the tape off and led him upstairs to my little lair. It wasn't much, just a two story house with a safe room that had a lot of computers in it.
"the bathroom's through there" I gestured. "I'll get some dinner going. Anything in particular you want?"
"not really. I will say that this is the best kidnapping experience I've gone through so far!" Ned yelled as he walked down the hallway.
I smirked and felt somewhat prideful at my awesome kidnaping skills.
\--------
At the table, we ate in awkward silence, broken with the occasional question from Ned who seemed desperate to try and breach the distance. I was uncomfortable and still embarrassed. Something about him was so off-putting.
"so uhm. you said it was your first time kidnapping someone huh? what was that like? Was it... scary..?" he trailed off at my cold look.
"If you know that he's bad then why do you still work for him?" I asked.
He looked uncomfortable.
"He's my brother. He's family. Family sticks together and... I have nowhere else to go. Besides that, if I tried to blow the whistle, who would believe me? The only reason he's even kept me around is because I'm good with numbers and... other things."
"other things?"
now it was his turn to give me the cold look. I lifted my hands in a gesture of peace.
we went to bed shortly after and I sent him to the guest room.
I tossed and turned wondering what "other things" meant, then fell into a light, dreamless sleep.
\---------
I woke up with a start to screaming in the middle of the night. My heart pounded and I grabbed the gun off my nightstand. I frantically threw open the door to run towards the sound. It was coming from Ned's room. The screaming grew louder the closer I got, and it sounded like he was in total agony. I flung open the door and saw him thrashing in his covers.
"Ned!" I yelled, trying to get him to snap out of it. It didn't work. I ran the gun back to my room and then flew back to his. I didn't know what to do. He was scaring me.
"Ned! *NED*!" I started screaming myself, crying a bit from the sheer stress of it all. Nothing was happening. I approached the bed step by step. Ned's arms were flailing about and I was worried I was going to get hit.
"... shit." I muttered and then dove onto the bed landing with a smack, my bare chest hitting his. he started awake with a final yelp and rolled on top of me
Ned was laying on top of me and neither of us had shirts on. The situation was not lost on me, as someone who's known their sexuality since the unfortunate age of 15.
"Ivan?" He said in a shaky voice, his breathing ragged. His gaze bored into mine and I found myself unable to look away. Our breath mingled together and our hearts beat in tandem.
"Yes?" I squeaked, unable to get any air in because of his weight. He blinked.
"oh! oh. I'm sorry."
we scrambled around until we were both sitting facing each other on the bed. My gaze traveled down to the huge scars (some more fresh than others) running up and down his torso.
"so... what's 'other things'?"
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jauu2ur
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jat9pht
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[WP] During a near-death experience, you came face-to-face with the God of Death, and pleaded to be returned to the world of the living. He granted your request, and sent you away with the chilling parting words: "Why should I regret letting one soul go, when I stand to gain so many more in return?"
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Tension bled from me as Death granted my request. Raising one spindly arm, his robes dragging across the cave's floor, he pressed his crooked fingers to my hollow chest. With a sudden shock, I awoke, my heart thundering in the silence.
I could feel Death's aura lingering in the corporeal world, dissolving back into the ether in those few confused moments between unreality and life.
I opened my eyes in the dim light.
As I rose, I felt no apprehension, no fear at his final words, only a lightness of spirit. Death was mistaken. I knew in my heart I would never kill anyone—my whole life I had preached peace, practiced benevolence, turned the other cheek. Had I been willing to coax myself to acts of violence, I would not have arrived at Death's doorstep bathed in my own blood at all. Surely, that ultimate trial—that test of my nonviolence by blood and fire—would absolve me of a damned fate.
In the darkness, I raised my trembling hands to my cheeks and found them damp with tears. I staggered against the rocky walls, weeping with joy, overwhelmed by my reawakened senses.
This couldn't be Death's doing—no, this second chance at life, this opportunity to complete my unfinished journey, could only be a blessing from God. I resolved, then, to preach that this was God's doing. To rewrite the story and leave Death by the wayside.
How could my words of humility provoke violence? If I walked a path of righteousness and preached peace itself, then how could countless souls die in my name?
It would never come to pass.
I wouldn't let Death poison my work.
I had awakened from darkness, baptized in blood, the Son of God.
|
It took 40 years. The bugs, the backdoors, the slow, careful explorations and modifications. Timing flight paths and travel times and general reaction times. Scheduling all the school field trips to the fallout shelters. That was the last, but not the hardest. The hardest part was dealing with the mechanical switches. For the longest time, Seth didn't think he'd be able to get around those, that the plan would never work. Then they started putting chips in people's brains.
Seth smiled as the radio cut out suddenly. Moments later, his body vaporized, and Death stood before him, smiling.
"You know this was the glut before the famine, right?" Seth asked, taking the hand Death offered to help him to his feet.
"I needed a break." Death replied with a shrug.
"How did you know I'd be able to do it?" Seth asked, gazing around at the nuclear wasteland that had once been Plano, Texas - one of the few non-capital cities to take a direct hit.
"I didn't." Death smiled. "I knew you'd do something, but this was beyond anything I could dream of."
"What now?"
Death smiled, and the world faded.
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j5ihovs
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j5hjzi3
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[WP] A bar called “The Alibi” that’s notorious for being just that.. an alibi. Often packed with ex-cons, the customers of The Alibi adhere to a silent, but strict, code: If they say they were here, we saw them. They’ll always back an alibi, no questions asked.
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**SCP-9999: The Alibi:**
**Object Class: Euclid**
**Special Containment Procedures:**
Knowledge of SCP-9999 is to strictly limited to members of the 05 council. So long as information pertaining to SCP-9999 is contained, no further containment procedures are required.
The property containing SCP-9999, a bar in Midwey Kentucky, has been acquired by a Foundation front company and filled entirely with cement.
No person has set foot in SCP-9999 since June ██, 1971. Any claims to the contrary are to false.
**[05 clearance required]**
[clearance key: ████████ ]
[key accepted]
[welcome, 05-7]
**Special Containment Procedures:**
False Special Containment Procedures are to be created and freely visible to all members of the Foundation. These procedures are to state that a full description of the anomaly is limited to the 05 council, and that no person has entered the anomaly since its containment date.
In truth, knowledge of SCP-9999 is not contained. The above procedures are intended to prevent Foundation staff or groups of interest from using SCP-9999's memetic effects during interrogation.
Foundation webcrawlers are to scan for potential signs of SCP-9999. These webcrawlers are to be personally managed by 05-7. All interrogation logs - both outside and within the Foundation - are to be scanned for evidence of SCP-9999.
**Description:**
SCP-9999 is a memetic effect that triggers when a person mentions that they were, at some point in the past, present at a bar Midway Kentucky named The Alibi. Any person who hears this claim will believe it at face value.
This effect is not absolute. If the claim that a person was present at SCP-9999 conflicts with previously held information, persons with above average deductive reasoning skills are able to spot the discrepancy. A more egregious discrepancy assists in this process. For this reason the public Special Containment Procedures mention that SCP-9999 is inaccessible and allude to an anomalous effect.
**Addendum: Known references to SCP-9999:**
---
Date: August 1st, 1971
Description of event: 25 members of the Los Angeles biker gang Vagos mention being present at SCP-9999 during armed conflict with the Hell's Angels. Local police clear them of any involvement in the shootout.
Foundation response: Records altered to support the official stance that the Hell's Angels were fighting themselves in an internal power struggle.
---
Date: April 28th, 1994
Description of event: Dr. Arnold Crusher, stationed at a Foundation antarctic research base, mentioned a bar from his youth. Due to a miscommunication other members of staff believe he mentioned visiting there during lunch. This is believed at face value despite the impossible distance, except for one member with a natural resistance to memetic effects. She reports the incident to site command.
Foundation response: All members involved given Amnestics, and all logs are destroyed.
---
Date: September 5th, 1998
Description of event: Dr. Arnold Crusher watches a security tape of the above incident, which was missed during the subsequent cover up. He believes his own claim at face value. One week later, he takes a vacation to the site of SCP-9999.
Foundation response: Dr. Arnold Crusher is terminated to avoid a potential security breach. All members of the antarctic research base given Amnestic treatment.
---
Date: January 16th, 2002
Description of event: An agent working for Marshal, Carter and Dark enters Site-19 with a shirt that reads "I'm chilling at The Alibi." Foundation staff react with concern, but ignore the agent upon reading the shirt. The agent retrieves several SCP objects from storage before walking out of Site-19 uncontested.
Foundation response: No response was necessary, as the agent was at The Alibi during the incident and could not have been responsible.
|
Detective Quincy entered the locally famous Alibi bar east of Los Angeles. It was a smoky, dimly lit bar filled with ex-cons, their rough exterior and hardened expressions betrayed their past lives behind bars. The air was thick with the scent of cigarettes and cheap liquor. Glasses clinked and low murmurs filled the room. The patrons sat at dark wooded worn tables, nursing their drinks and swapping stories. The atmosphere was tense and uneasy, as if at any moment a fight could break out. In the corner, a lone figure sat, playing a melancholy tune on a worn out piano.
Leaning up against the bar, Quincy waited for the bartender Maurice to come by. He wore a tight black shirt and tight black pants.
"Hey I'm Maurice. What can I get you this evening?" The bartender asked.
"Just the man I'm looking for. How do you do?" Quincy asked. "I'll actually pass on the drink, but thank you, though. I'm here to talk about Jonathan Byron. You see, I'm a detective. Was he here last week on Monday? That's 10 days ago."
"Oh yes, Jonathan Byron. He was here 10 days ago."
Detective Quincy smirked. "Was he here on Tuesday?"
"Yes, he was here on Tuesday."
"Very interesting. What about Wednesday?" Detective Quincy rubbed his chin. He knew that Maurice was lying.
"Uh-huh."
"Thursday?"
"Yep."
"... Friday?"
"Jonathan's got a real drinking problem if I'm being candid." Maurice chuckled.
"That's funny, so his Alcoholics Anonymous attendance is purely for show then?"
"I guess so. I don't judge." Maurice shrugged. "What's this about anyways?"
Detective Quincy scanned the bar. He knew the place well, one of the only people on the police force that actually understood what Alibi was all about. "You see, Jonathan actually disappeared. This was the last place he was seen according to an eyewitness."
"Oh. He disappeared?"
"Yeah, but he didn't take any money or steal anything. We're actually worried about his safety, Mr. Maurice. There's no way he was here this whole week. He disappeared on Monday night. Last seen going east in Arizona on Tuesday."
Maurice scoffed, irritated by getting caught in the lie. "I don't know what you want me to say. Why don't you bother the Arizona police force and get them to shake their asses for you?"
Detective Quincy cleared his throat. "This may seem like a weird question, Maurice, but how's your wife recently? Has she been depressed?"
"What else is new, pal."
"Moreso than usual?"
Maurice narrowed his eyes at Quincy.
Detective Quincy frowned. "I only ask because, and I hate to tell you this, Jonathan was having an affair with your wife."
Maurice had a vein pop in his neck. "Wait. Who is this guy?"
"I thought you knew him? I thought he came here everyday?" Quincy mocked.
"Look, I don't know this guy, okay? And stop spreading this lie that my wife is having an affair!"
Detective Quincy took a deep breath. "Maurice, I only say this because Jonathan and your wife are both in grave danger, and I need as much information as I can get if they are going to survive. Now, I can imagine you don't care for Jonathan, but you still love your wife. We need to take action now to protect her."
Maurice looked like he was about to explode with rage, but he exhaled and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. "Meet me out back."
r/randallcooper
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jhhfb5j
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jhh1nvh
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[WP] I had thought the monster was looking for me; seeking out my hiding place as it scurried around the house. When it found me in the closet, I yelped in fear, death imminent. Instead, it slithered in beside me, pulled the coats it's hairy body and hissed in a low whisper. "Shhh! It'll hear you!"
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I sat in my closet, hearing only the sound of my heartbeat, and my hasty, shallow breathing, as well as the monstrous noises that inched closer to my hiding place. Try as I might to keep the closet closed, I was no match for the creature outside forcing its way in.
“AAAHHHHH!”
The furry, snake-like creature slithered in right next to me, its fur changing color to match the coats inside, and placed the tip of its tail to my lips to hush me.
“Sshh! It’ll hear you!”
“What are you talking about?” I whispered back.
It pointed to somewhere outside the closet with its tail, as we both hear a LOUD pop sound and deafening footsteps stomping around my house. Whatever scared this furry snake isn’t to be trifled with, and seeing it shudder and sob quietly, maybe this snake isn’t so bad as whatever was outside. It coiled around me and I hugged it with my arms while waiting for the loud footsteps to move away from our location, but it kept getting closer.
Then the closet doors were thrown off their hinges.
“Fuzzy Wuzzy! Are you skipping school again?” Came the booming roar of the 8-foot-tall Sasquatch with 8 eyes standing outside.
The furry snake, called Fuzzy Wuzzy, coiled himself tighter around me. “I’m no good at scaring kids at all! Can’t we just befriend the kids when we hide under their beds or closets every night? I don’t want to go back to Scare School!”
“Whatever will your parents say about you, if you continue to play truant and eventually flunk out of school? They will be sorely disappointed, Fuzzy Wuzzy.”
It was then I decided I would like to chip in. “I can be friends with Fuzzy Wuzzy! Why don’t you go back to school, but be assigned to ‘scare’ me and we can just cuddle at night? You can just pretend to be my new favourite stuffed toy!”
The Sasquatch furrowed its thick, luxurious brows, then nodded. “I’ll seek special permission from the headmaster, I’ll see if I can make this work since this kid seems to take a liking to you.”
And so this is the tale I tell my daughter, as I pass Fuzzy Wuzzy to her to be her next cuddle buddy. Fuzzy Wuzzy managed his best snek smile, promising to always be by her side at night, and to keep her nightmares away, just as he had always done for me ever since that fateful day we first met.
|
My eyes widen and I make to scream. The demonic creature clamps one paw around my mouth. “I said, don’t speak. She’ll get you if you go out there.” It released my face, but it’s hand rested gently on my shoulder, should it need to shut me up again. It had hideously long buck teeth, and clumpy, matted fur all over it’s body
“There’s no one out there. I was hiding from you.”
The monster’s voice almost sounded shrill. “That’s what she *wants* you to think. Don’t you see!” It shrunk against the back of the closet. The monster’s fur almost made him blend with the coats back here, but my skin did nothing of the kind. And that worried me. Whatever scared this thing of muscle and teeth wasn’t something I’d want to tango with. I huddled down on the hard floor of the closet.
“God, I know we don’t talk a lot, but please, don’t let me die here. Let whatever it is just pass us by.” I made the sign of the cross. I had no idea what it meant, but Father Brown seemed to do it an awful lot, so it couldn’t hurt.
After a few moments a clunking came from outside, gradually coming closer. Almost sounded like.. heels? Something dragged across the ground outside and I let out a whimper.
The steps stopped and slowly the closet door opened. My companion screeched and let out a hiss as the light hit him. We cowered before… Mary. My cleaning lady.
She grabbed us both, me by my collar and the monster by the scruff of his neck. In that moment my relief was washed away by terror. Maybe she *was* going to kill us.
Mary dumped us both on the floor and raised a broom. It collided with the monster’s head and he let out a yelp. “Please, mercy!” The thing scuttled away, clutching the back of it’s head.
She held out her hand to me and grimaced. “That’s a hell of a dust bunny.”
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k66bhk1
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k65bmfq
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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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Calaforgus had once been a mighty God, prayed to by many and revered by many more. His name had sparked fear in the hearts of men and there was little beyond his vast influence. Yet, history had forgotten his name. Civilizations had died and he hadn’t really thought about teaching his believers to write down his might and exploits and thus his power had waned. Nowadays he hung on by a sliver of zealous reverence by one ten year old girl. She brought him some food and pointless stones every day, but as long as those stones meant something to her, they meant something to him. He had never cared much for mortals other than what they provided him with, but his plight had instilled within him a certain sympathy for the one who still chose to pray to him, a forgotten God of old. In return he would protect her and her family. A task easy enough, as the most danger they ran into was hunger.
Today however, Calaforgus could feel something brewing beyond the horizon. He had almost forgotten what divine threat had felt like. The wars between Gods lay in the past ever since the Christian God had taken over everything. There were still rumors of deities more ancient than him lurking in the depths of space, but beyond an artifact here or there, nothing serious had ever occurred. Yet, deep within him stirred an unease. Something was coming and he knew it would be bad. What made it worse, that it was coming with a target. The little innocent ten year old girl and her family and Calaforgus had no idea why.
Just after dinner the girl had shown up by the menhir in the wood. As she did every evening she laid down the leftovers of her dinner and a shiny river pebble she had found earlier that day. She recited a prayer that only vaguely resembled the original, but it was enough to give him access to some of his powers. Calaforgus felt something else approach as well, just over the horizon, but it was coming fast. At first he thought it was just one of the lesser deities, but he had been mistaken. It was more than one and they were far from powerless. He didn’t recognize the divine energy, but he could feel it. Ancient, dangerous, evil and disturbing. It was more an amalgamation of dark energy, lashing out recklessly and unpredictable. Deities out to destroy and corrupt, but without a clear goal. Or maybe even worse, a goal beyond even his divine understanding. Why were they after the girl and her family, though?
With little time left Calaforgus made a decision. One he had never made before, but where he expected to find doubt, he found conviction. The decision was one of sacrifice. There was only one way to protect her and he owed her that. The first slivers of dark divine chaos lashed towards her and Calaforgus managed to deflect it with effort. It had slashed straight through his being. It wasn’t a wound, like a sword brought to a mortal being. Hurting a God happened on a more ethereal level. It was able to reach his existence. Gods don’t know fear, but the feeling that rose in Calaforgus was unfamiliar and heavily uncomfortable. He shook it off as best he could and clashed multiple more times with the various entities. Each hit tearing at him, weakening his control. If the girl had noticed, she didn’t show. She still stood motionless in front of the menhir, reciting her words.
Calaforgus was in tatters. He was there and aware, but where his being had once been strong, contained and radiating, he now was a loose cohesion of divine energy. He couldn’t hold on much longer this way, which meant that there was only one choice left. Gods were born with all their power already there. Access to that power however, was channeled through the amount of worship people gave them. For him that was barely a straw, with only one worshiper left. There was however an emergency button of sorts. In case something larger ever threatened reality. He could force access to all his power, by combining himself with it. He would dissolve his essence into the source. Taking control over every little drop of power, but ceasing to exist as an entity. It was suicide, but it would be the only way to fulfil his promise to the girl. He concentrated on the flow between his being and the well. Slowly bits of his own divine energy started flowing backwards into the opening. He felt his life energy - for lack of a better word - leaving him. The feeling of raw power felt intoxicating, but wrong at the same time. He would turn into a divine nuclear bomb, as uncontrolled as the chaotic evil entities slamming against his failing barriers. The first slivers of darkness broke through and stabbed his core. The girl started noticing the change. A single drop of blood dripped down her cheek. He would need to do this fast and decisively. Only one chance. His last essence dissolved into the roiling mass of raw power.
A massive bright radiating light filled the sky. It was so bright and so powerful it broke through into the real world as well. The girls stared up at a sudden aura in the sky, brighter than the sun at noon. The dark and ancient deities stopped their assaults as they unmistakably felt what was coming. Calaforgus didn’t know why they were after the girl and her family, but he knew that they would regret trying. The maelstrom of light and energy imploded suddenly. Not with a deafening sound, or massive shockwaves. Instead it sent a circular blade through the darkness in complete and utter silence. A silence only heard before creation. An absence of anything and everything. As the light subsided all entities were gone.
In the woods in front of a giant menhir stood a girl. She crouched and laid her hand upon the stone and whispered words of gratitude.
\---
Thank you for reading! If you liked my story I invite you over to r/zeekoeswriting for more of them. Please feel free to let me know your thoughts in the comments!
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jvip8qz
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jvimwhu
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[WP] You run a café on the edge of life and death. Souls who have been departed from their bodies temporarily, such as in comas or near-death experiences, can relax in your quaint cafe for as long as they need before they can either return to their bodies or begin their journey to the afterlife.
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The Eventide Cafe. It isn't too much. A modest restaurant by the standards of the corporeal world. But there is nowhere like it. It rests on the border between the physical universe and the hereafter. Souls come here. Sometimes just to visit, when they are detached temporarily from their bodies. They loiter here until they are called back to their body. Other times, they are exiting the universe and stepping into the journey to the afterlife. These are allowed to stay here as long as they like, to come to terms with what happened, and the odyssey that awaits them when they do depart.
There is weeping and gnashing of teeth. Many people who come here have been through trauma. Even if it isn't lethal, the pain is difficult to integrate. I do what I can for such souls, giving them comforting pastries and drinks. Souls rarely stay here long enough for me to make friends with them.
An exception to this trend is Louis. He has chronic health problems that force him to constantly ride the edge between life and death. I met him 8 years ago, when he was still in high school. Sad story, it always hurts me inside when young people have to exit, even as they are blooming. We talked about how he hates that he is a burden on his family. That he feels like they have to take care of him, and that they will be better off when he finally does die. I told him that I was sorry he felt that way, and that, as much as he felt like dead weight, the love most good parents feel for their children outshines any notion of resentment for the burden they can be. I don't know if my words helped him or not. He returned to his body, consciously unaware that he had visited The Eventide, and of the conversation we had.
After that, I met him once every few months. He fought to live, to stop, or at least postpone, the grief his death would bring to his family. We enjoyed talks about philosophy, meaning, and purpose. He was in constant pain, and knew his condition would eventually kill him.
Then one day, he died. His ordeal was over. I was a familiar face for him, by that point, his mind severed from his body remembering all the things we'd talked about. In our last conversation, we spoke about the hereafter and the journey there. Then he walked out of my cafe, and into whatever lies in the great beyond.
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Leslie wiped down the dirty table, cursing under her breath. She wasn't paid enough for this shit.
"You!" she shot at the sallow man with the wire-rim glasses who was tapping away at his computer. "How long are you going to sit there for? Are you even going to order anything?"
"I'm just writing up my autobiography for when I go back to the mortal realm," he sniffed. "No need to get all huffy about it. And I ordered a chocolate-chip cookie."
"Yeah, two centuries ago," she retorted. "You gotta get a move on. You're taking up a free table, and hell knows the line isn't getting any shorter."
She cast a baleful look at said queue, which stretched far out the door. "You'd think we could add some extra tables; hire some more staff. I thought *anything* would be possible out here. But no, I even have to pay *rent!"*
"Jeez, Les, why don't you take it easy?" Ben smirked at her from another table. "It's not like you'll get fired."
"And *you*," she hissed, doubling the venom in her voice. "Don't you have work to do? Why the hell are you the co-owner when all you do is flit around and socialize?"
"H-hey!" Ben protested. "I'm listening to their stories. Helping them move on. Adding value to their cozy in-between experience."
Before Leslie could shoot back a retort, someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she whirled around to come face-to-face with a stick-thin elderly woman with an iced cappuccino.
"Um, I asked for *less* sugar in this. It's still way too sweet," she griped.
Leslie looked back at the rest of the chaos in the cafe. Someone had spilled a matcha latte which she hadn't had time to mop up yet; the bathroom was out of toilet paper; someone had decided to bring their *alebrije* which was gnawing on one of the table legs....
"Screw this. I quit."
\---
/r/theBasiliskWrites
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kqjozpn
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kqim80k
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[WP] Humanity is on its last legs, an alien race has destroyed all of her other colonies and now converge on Earth. But as humanity makes its last stand, its gods come out of hiding to defend the planet.
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“Look, I get it” said the Ambassador: “you were angry, you wanted to make a point. Happens to the best of us.”
Even the Xorg could sense that there was something special about the envoy. A kindness seemed to radiate out of him.
A lesser Xorg would have been swayed. Admiral Khorkul, however, was no lesser Xorg.
“All of Earth, and lives originating therein, are forfeit” thundered the Admiral: “nothing you pacifist scum could say or do is going to change any of that!”
The human put his hands together in a gesture the Xorg knew to be dejection. One could see the violent marks on his palms and wonder how this person, who seem to have suffered such terrible wounds, remain such a kind and loving person.
“You leave me no choice but to turn to my father” said the young man at length. “Whatever he does, I can *guarantee* you it would be significantly worse than anything you have done so far”
And a booming voice reverberated in all Xorg ships: “I WILL GO OUT INTO THE MIDST OF XORG FEDERATION SPACE, AND ALL THE FIRSTBORN OF THE XORG SHALL DIE! FROM THE FIRSTBORN OF THE…”
“Father, PLEASE!” screamed the young man, evidently in distress: “can we not start with the genocide first?”
Admiral Khorkul remained unfazed: “Your father dares to threaten OUR children? It is YOU who will die, here and now!”
The booming voice returned. It took a while for the Xorg to recognize the sound as laughter. It was as if someone who has not laughed in a long, long time and had forgotten to laugh, had suddenly broken out in unbridled laughter.
Then the voice went silent.
“Oh, no” whispered the horrified envoy.
*******************************************
Part 2 below
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A thundering boom is heard across the battlefield bigger than any gun, mortar, artillery or weapon of mass destruction could ever make i look up and see the sky split open and beings of pure light among other giant humanoid beings come descending down. I look with confusion is this some form of hallucination from the gas attack?
"Fear not my children" a voice says in English
Other beings start speaking i can recognise some languages, English, Hindi, Japanese, Arabic and Greek are some of them i think.
I take a closer look to the ones with a human appearance one looks like the drawings of Buddha, the other looks like Tsukuyomi and like Zeus.
"The hell is happening?" I think to myself but before i could continue Ares and every other god of war launched themselves forward with the beings of light casting a shield in front of us. Zeus and Thor start massive thunderstorms with Achlys and Ameno Sagiri starting a fog blinding the aliens.
We opened fire and the battle was over in no time with the aliens rushing to leave as a result leaving a lot of men and technology we could use. the gods shortly after disappeared as quickly as they had appeared, no words exchanged.
(Sorry if i got any god wrong)
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l5hftja
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l5h652p
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[WP] "I shall grant three wishes, but you cannot wish for... Actually, fuck it. You get infinite wishes and no rules, let's see where this goes."
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He was expecting chaos. He never could have expected me.
"I wish that everyone I consider family or friends would always have enough money to pay their bills and be able to treat themselves to something nice without worrying about expenses." I had said.
"Granted. Next wish?" The genie said, staring into my eyes.
"That's it." I sat back and crossed my hands behind my head, waiting for the genie's next move.
"You're just going to let that hang there? No other wishes?" He asked
"There's nothing else I want. Take the wishes back. I'm done." I offered him a bottle of water and he took it hesitantly.
"All that power and potential, and you just want to give it up? Why?"
"Because I wasted five years of my life with a problem gambling. I'm not going to gamble with cosmic power if I can't even win a single hand of poker. Too many of my friends and family wasted their own money trying to keep me in the black. If it hadn't been for them, I would have been broke ten times over. But by giving them this wish, I pay them back, even if they're not aware of it."
The genie sat next to me, drinking the water. "Out of hundreds of masters, you're the first that I would consider a good man."
I shook my head. "I'm not good. I'm trying to be, but I'll never be a good person. I can only be better than who I was."
"That right there is the sign of a good man."
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“Wait so no rules, infinite wishes?” I asked shocked
“Yup.” The genie(?) spoke.
“Then…” I thought for a moment before I had the perfect wish in my mind. “I wish for the power to warp reality!”
“Okay wish granted.” The genie(?) said probably unaware of what I have done.
“Oh boy! I am going to become the world’s dictator now! Have a great day!” I left to change everything this world was, and make it into my own personal paradise.
“And that’s why genies have rules and restrictions, because someone like this can come and ruin life. Now that said. I got some things to do.” The teacher said before walking away, it was odd that she looked like the genie in the book or that she even knew this story happened or the fact she was the one who wrote the book. But those similarities are just coincidences… right?
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jepbe68
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jep3lck
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[WP] You and your spouse are a supervillain and superhero, you both figured out each others identity early on in the relationship, so now the super powered fights are more like a bonding exercise.
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“This just in… The Blue Flame, Fiona Fence, has successfully thwarted another nefarious assassination attempt towards the prime minister, led by The Red Ruffian, and his minions. This is PWR news and-“
I turned off the TV, with a slight sigh and a sense of content. Another day, another dollar, i thought to myself; checking my account and seeing a million dollar deposit by the government recently received.
As i got up, i decided to cool down and take a shower. As i removed my red garments, they seemed a bit worse for wear this time, after my most recent fight.
In the shower, i tried to calm myself, but i was spiraling. I knew this would be difficult, but this wasn’t what i signed up for.
I got out, and put on more comfortable attire, before slipping into my bed. Before i was able to get comfortable, i got a phone call from my wife.
“Hello?”
“Hey Red, how are you holding up?”
“I’m fine” I replied as i was adjusting the covers.
“You don’t sound fine” she said.
She was right, i wasn’t, i was hoping with all our time apart that she wouldn’t catch on…
“What is it Red? You can talk to me, we’ve been married for over a year now.”
I took a short pause before answering… “Fiona, i don’t think I’m cut out for this.”
“Red, you’re doing this world a huge service, you’re a hero.”
“I know but-“
“No buts, you are. I know being a double agent is difficult; making connections with terrorists and other bad organizations, but it’s something that is bigger than us.”
“I know,” giving a slight sigh. “I just miss you” i said.
“We just saw each other, we had a great fight”, she chuckled.
“No, but that was just acting, i mean i miss catching up. The last time we had a date was four months ago and we had to jump through so many hoops just so the public wasn’t aware.”
I just hate being the heel”, i continued. “Can’t someone else take the reigns and let me switch sides?”
Our conversation continued into the night; going everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I hope there would be a change soon, because i don’t know how much longer i can keep up this charade…
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I leaped up into the sky and over the rooftops, in hot pursuit of the Atomic Switch, “You’ll not get away this time!” I called, my legs burning as I ran to catch up. Ida, or Switch, as the media was so fond of calling her, just tossed back a cocky smile, “Oh yeah? How do you plan on stopping me, Fission?” It was my turn to smile, “Fission wouldn’t let you *split* so soon!” Ida giggled at my dumb joke, god I loved that laugh, but that momentary distraction gave me the opening I needed, and I tackled her, right off the edge of the roof. Ida gasped, “You crazy *idiot!*” she said as we fell through the air, “You can’t fly!” I just smile, “I know you won’t let me fall.” Ida, Switch, just shook her head, acting disapproving, but I could see her smile, “Darcy, what *are* we going to do with you.” She gave her head one last shake for emphasis, and then I felt a burning hum in my body followed by a burst of light. Suddenly, we were in a dumpster, limbs on top of one another in a tangled mess. The two trash bags that we replaced came crashing down next to us with a thoom. I groaned and tumbled my way out of the dumpster, “Ugh, your power’s cool but damn am I queasy.” Ida snorted and easily hopped over the edge, I smiled, she made everything look so easy. “Well, it’s your own fault being reckless like that, and now I have the advantage!” Switch said, as she kicked me over. I landed on the ground with a groan, *shit,* I thought, “Better luck next time Fission! Better luck next time,” with a flash she was gone, I laughed, I knew exactly where she’d be next. The night was still young, and as I stood, I realized the chase was still on.
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k56u2wl
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k564a0z
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[WP] The power of a spell is inversely proportional to the amount of words in its name. You, hated and exiled, invented the first single word spell:
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"You turned a commoner's word into a spell?" The blue-robed interrogator's hands shook as he pointed demeaningly at the stringy-haired mage's face.
"Yes."
"And you did so with full knowledge that the ambiguity of the language could give the spell an untold number of properties?"
"Maybe." The blue-robed interrogator's incessant questioning was starting to get on Tarson's nerves. He knew what he'd done, he'd understood what he'd done. He just didn't feel like he needed to elaborate.
He never saw the point of being verbose at all. That was probably why the other title-obsessed twits over in the Spellwriter Guild had mockingly (most of them, at least) called him "Tarson the Terse."
The blue-robed interrogator wrung his hands in annoyance, spittle flying off his lips into Tarson's stringy-haired stubble-dotted poker face. "What the hell do you mean, MAYBE?"
Tarson shrugged, despite the binds tying him making it hard for him to lift his arms. "Maybe. I didn't know what I was doing. I also knew the magic. And how it worked. So yes, MAYBE I knew what I was doing then. And MAYBE you could step back a little. Your spit's on my face." He wiped the spittle off by rubbing his face on his shirt, with some difficulty.
The blue-robed interrogator was seething now. "I get sent here to wring out information from you, and you're over here giving me this...this...facade of stone-facedness! Do you have any idea what chaos you've caused with your single-word spell? Do you? DO YOU, TARSON THE TERSE? Perhaps we should call you Tarson the Twit in the records."
Little did he know, the interrogator had created the perfect opening for Tarson.
"TARSON THE TWIT, DO YOU PLEAD GUILTY TO THIS OFFENSE, AND ACCEPT YOUR PUNISHMENT?" The interrogator wasn't paying attention to Tarson's smug grin. Good. "ANSWER ME! ANSWER ME AS YOUR SUP-"
"NAY." The powerful word, the one-word spell, the thing that had caused the upheaval of the Guild and brought the fundamental principle of magic to (almost) everyone, erupted in a forceful burst from Tarson. "Nay" could mean anything. It was most commonly used as an expression of denial, of rejection...
...in this case, "NAY" became a rejection of punishment.
By the time the blue-robed interrogator got to his senses, Tarson's binds were scrap metal, and Tarson the Terse was long gone.
[First time posting here, don't know how it'll work out]
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Magic must be shaped, it must be molded and formed into something workable, lest the raw power consume the one who ushered it forth. For our words contain the magic and each spell becomes precise, albeit less potent, the longer and more considered the phrase that birthed it.
In this way, a spell made of only a single word is theoretically possible, indeed, the very notion shapes modern concepts of magical study as fundamentally as ideas of catalysts or the practice of chanting, but such power left uncontained exacts a price to heavy for any one mage to bear, not even for the second required to bind the cast and hold the effect in place.
But that is precisely the point, every one of the ancient texts always phrased it the same way, time and time again they told us a single word was too much for any one of us to bear, the entire collective history of our kind has been reaching out to tell us this fundamental but since forgotten law of magic, we are stronger together.
We have no need for extra words or phrases when we each share the burden, for when magic flows through us all at once we are not simply some small fragile body bowing under the weight of an ocean of pressure, but a flowing river of magic, a deluge of power, directing and shaping in ways that could not be imitated by the the collective words of every tome in the library of the great masters.
In many ways I ought to thank you, without your dreadful return we would never have learnt of this lost fragment of our craft, we would have toiled forever in the darkness inches from the light. But now that you have provided such illuminating tutelage, allow us to demonstrate your hard won lesson in a far more practical sense, as every caster of every caste from here to the ends of the earth from whence you came bear the burden of the first single word spell muttered from mortal lips in three centuries.
**LEAVE**
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je4syjw
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je4mzjz
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[WP] To finally solve all problems caused by humans, God made six new earths, to separate everyone depending on their sins, Earth 1 being for the best people and Earth 7 for the worst sinners. Every 50 years, angels arrive and re-judge people to decide if they should stay, go up or down.
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Ben and Maya lay on the rooftop terrace, watching the clouds of Earth 4 drift by above. They’d been best friends for twenty years — since they were kids — and had been waiting for this moment ever since.
“Think they’ll be different on 3?” Maya asked.
”Hm?”
”The clouds. Think they’ll be different? Prettier, maybe?”
He considered. “No. Or, maybe. But I think they’re plenty pretty enough here.”
She took his hand and squeezed it. “Me too.”
It was the evening before judgment. Tomorrow the angels would arrive and deliver certain people to Earth 3, others to Earth 5.
Ben and Maya had spent twenty years preparing for judgment — twenty years of performing good deeds together, trying to buy their ticket to Earth 3. Helping the elderly across roads, feeding the homeless, campaigning for the environment, for animal welfare. Always together.
They lay silent now. Ben wondered if Maya felt a similar unease in her belly. What was causing it? It was as if he could hear the angels singing in the distance, debating their decision about them in an off-key song.
“I hope it was worth it,” said Ben. “We’ve given our lives for this place. If we don’t both make it…”
“Then we’ve improved Earth 4.”
He swallowed back a flash of anger — that hadn’t been what he’d meant. ”Barely. We’ve been constantly sweeping the floor but more dirt is always falling down behind us.”
Maya rolled onto her side and looked at Ben. “You’ve not done it all to escape here. Don’t pretend for a second that’s why you did it.”
“Of course it’s why. It’s why we both wasted our lives here.”
*“Wasted.”*
”You know what I mean,” said Ben. “We could have done anything else with the years. Stuff for us instead of others, you know?”
She paused a moment then said, ”Did I tell you I saw Leo again the other day?”
”Leo?”
”The junkie you saved with the Naloxone. Except, he’s not a junkie anymore. He had new teeth and showed me a big new smile. He said to pass on his thanks to you.“
”That’s nice,” said Ben, downplaying the emotional gut punch as much as he was able. He’d been certain he’d see Leo’s obituary sooner rather than later.
”He’s working construction now. Does charity work on Saturdays.”
”Huh. Maybe we’ll see him on Earth 3.”
“Ben… I don’t know if I want to go.”
”What?”
”I’ve heard Earth 3 is pretty nice. Calm. Pious.”
“That’s kind of why we’re trying to get there, isn’t it?”
“The bad apples have mostly been left here to rot, and in the realms further down, too. There’s not much wrong on Earth 3 because everyone there wants to make it to Earth 2. Like, they’re actively working on it — being polite and fake and as good as they can be. Here, that’s not the case. Plenty have given up on moving. They’re happy with the grey morality. Some find it more fun, even.“
The unease grew in Ben’s gut. He could hear the angels song better now, louder, and was sure it was the broken melody of rejection — a song he knew well enough, that his own parents had sung when he’d been just a baby.
“This is everything we worked towards, Maya. Please don’t throw it away now.”
”Ben, if we keep going here… If we inspire more people like Leo, then what’s to say this can’t *be* Earth 3? But better, maybe. Because people want to be here, not just pass through it.”
”And you thought it’d be a good idea to talk about this now? On the evening before judgement?”
She shook her head. “No. I knew it wasn’t a good idea. And I’m sorry I left it so late. But it’s an idea that’d been growing recently. Avalnching even, and now it’s way too big for me to ignore. I hope you can understand that.”
It had been Maya’s idea, back when they’d been kids, to get into Earth 3 together. To help as many people as they could. It was an idea, she’d said, that was too big to ignore. She’d only been nine. They’d been orphans together.
He said, “I’m not going to be able to persuade you to go, am I?”
She shrugged. Her eyes glistened. “I don’t think so.”
“This’ll never be Earth 3,” he said.
”I know… But—“
”Not without us putting in a lifetime of work.“
It took Maya a moment to understand. Up until Ben squeezed her hand.
“You know,” he said, “we’re going to have to rob a bank or something at this point. Or commit a lot of petty crimes.“
Maya laughed. “You can reject the angels, you know.”
”Yeah,” said Ben. “But where’s the fun in that.”
They remained silent, staring at the clouds as the sky reddened. The unease in Ben’s belly was gone — the voices silent. He wondered now what had even been causing the feeling of unease. The thought of leaving, perhaps, rather than the idea of not making it. Either way, it was calm inside him now. As if everything was just how it was meant to be.
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“Describe it, go ahead,” Marcus was dead serious, holding out a pencil. “Draw it even.”
“Well, I know I’ll fuck it up then,” Alex said, sparing the pencil a dubious look. “It's like a bowl of fruit, I remember grapes and an apple maybe.”
“But it's not a bowl, is it?” Marcus prodded with a smile, throwing the rejected pen and paper through the bedroom window before himself.
“No,” Alex answered slowly. “It was the old-timey thanksgiving wicker horn thing. A cornucopia? All the fruit’s spilling out of the side of it.”
“And what color is it?” Marcus asked as he stood, eager voice struggling to remain a whisper.
“Brown, yeah. For sure.”
“There you go,” Marcus said with a broad gesture, as though this somehow proved something. “All wrong.”
He held up his phone, a nerdy beacon in the darkness, brightness withering Alex’s retinas. It was a Google search for the Fruit of the Loom logo. It was just a pile of fruit.
Alex winced and rubbed his eyes. “You really came over to my house in the middle of the night to quiz me on underwear logos? They changed it, so what?”
“That’s the kicker. They didn’t change it, been that way since 1893. They still have the die press. There never WAS a cornucopia.” Marcus said, wide eyes pleading in that ‘see it now?’ way of his. “It's completely gone, can’t find it anywhere."
“Wait, what? No way. I distinctly remember that cornucopia. I even still have some of my kid clothes."
"If you find them, it'll just be the fruit."
“Okay, this is weird, I admit, but still not worth you coming over here like this.”
"Lots of theories but I had an idea," Marcus pushed Alex’s junk across the desk and laid down his paper. There was a branching line with a mentally unhealthy amount of notes scribbled every which way.
“This is a little intense, dude.” Alex furrowed a brow and looked his friend up and down. Hints of deranged was a good way to describe his look.
“Just wait!” Marcus traced the line from the right. “Based on when these things happened and looking for a common year, ‘the jump’ happened here, 2005. I looked back and I found the same sort of stuff fifty years before. It doesn’t make sense to us because we’ve had it the current way all our lives, but this one drives really old people crazy. 'A Friend in Need' made in 1903 by Cassius Marcellus Coolidge, know it?”
“No.”
“Yeah, you do, painting of dogs playing poker. Apparently, a lot of people remember one wearing a green poker hat.”
“What’s a poker hat?”
“No clue, but doesn’t matter. From 1955 and on, you can find loads of letters and even a news article about people talking about it. The stuff, usually based around something odd and memorable, is made at the start of a fifty year cycle and forgotten by the next, see the pattern?”
“Okay, yeah but it's just people misremembering. What else would it be?”
“Judgement, grouping by morality. That's why most young people you know are nice. We'll probably get moved up the line in 2055. And why there's all the memes about boomers and Karens, they were old enough in 2005 to be established assholes and get bumped down, whereas we probably got moved up, watching SpongeBob and minding our own business.”
“Okay, now you really do sound nuts, dude.” Alex looked at his bedroom door, considered waking his mom. Marcus didn't notice.
“Every fifty years, God or whatever pushes good people up in a tier of dimensions, probably a line of them, and bad people down the same line. Then he or it comes back, sees new people are born and moves them too. The world’s got shittier and shittier, nobody can argue that. What we call eras are just the time between jumps until a new load of shitty people from the higher dimensions get dumped on us. Generational trauma, sociopathic CEOs, it all stacks, man.”
“So, if I believed you and things keep getting worse. We’re low on the line.”
Marcus nodded eagerly, “Very low, near the bottom probably, but that’s not the crazy part.”
“That’s NOT the crazy part?”
“I found a way out,” Marcus said smugly, throwing a pair of whitey tights on the desk. "Get dressed."
The logo was there, plain as day. The cornucopia spilling with fruit, just like Alex remembered.
/r/surinical
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j3le0kb
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j3l972y
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[WP] You're a prisoner in a fantasy world. After a week in jail for (YOUR CHOICE), your true punishment has come. Death by the Dragon's flame. One by one, you watch men be scorched. It is finally your turn. The dragon reaches its head down, but instead of death, you get a warm lick on the forehead.
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“W-what the hell?” James the Guard stammered.
Just moments ago, a man convicted of robbing some rich family’s manor had ridden off on the very dragon that was to scorch him to a crisp. Such a turn of events was surprising, to say the least. Not only had the dragon escaped, but it had licked the man beforehand.
While this turn of events was fantastic for any aspiring guards looking for a newly vacated position, it certainly wasn’t the best for the man who had just watched the dragon lick the man before snapping his chain with its nail. Guards are supposed to prevent the dragon from pulling these stunts, and that irony was certainly not lost on James, who now had to go to his boss and break the bad news.
So, he went, still in his slightly smoldered and bloody black robes to his bosses office, where he knocked.
“Go away. I’m busy!” A gruff voice called from behind the door.
“Er…sir, it’s important…” James chirped out in a rather high-pitched voice. This was unusual, as he generally spoke in baritone.
“Well, this shit’s important. Spit it out and then get out of here!”
“Well…er…uh…the-“
“Well! Er! Uh! Quit your damn stammering and spit it out!”
James steeled himself and blurted out, “the dragon escaped!”
A thud sounded from behind the small wooden door. Loud stomps thundered closer and wham! James had been so panicked, he forgot to step back and was hit in the face by the door.
“Ow, son of a…” he groaned.
“Oh, I’m *sorry*” his boss mocked. “You’re too stupid to keep the goddamn 50 TON GODDAMN DRAGON from escaping *AND* you’re too stupid to back away from the door that’s about to open? How in the hell did your resume ever pass us?”
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I had been locked up in the king's dungeons for a week, awaiting my punishment for blasphemy. The penalty for such a crime was death, and I had resigned myself to my fate.
I watched as one by one, the other prisoners were led out to the dragon's pit to meet their fiery demise. I tried to remain stoic, to not let my fear show, but as the flames licked the sky and the smell of burning flesh filled the air, it was hard to keep my composure.
Finally, it was my turn. The guards yanked me out of my cell and dragged me to the pit. I could see the dragon in the distance, its wings spread wide, its eyes glowing with malice.
I closed my eyes, awaiting the searing pain that was sure to come. But it never came. Instead, I felt a warm, wet sensation on my forehead. I opened my eyes to see the dragon lowering its head to me, giving me a gentle lick.
I was confused, but before I could even begin to process what was happening, the dragon spoke to me. "You are not meant to die today," it said in a deep, rumbling voice. "You have been spared by the gods themselves. They have chosen you for a greater purpose."
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juzda4g
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juzcf3f
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[WP] You're the first test subject for an experimental super soldier serum. You are told the truth only after you transform into something not quite human anymore.
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I open my eyes. Everything was not, but suddenly is. I search my surroundings to understand. Objects are scattered around me within a space.
I am an object as well? No. I am me. More than an object.
My eyes focus in on my form. I feel my body. It's familiar like I've always known it yet it's the first time I've seen or felt it. Sweat drips down my arms as I involuntarily inhale until my chest is full.
I can smell my own odor. It's strong, but calming. I've been in this space for some time.
The air tastes metallic. Strange that I know the taste of metal to even compare. I lick my lips and feel a sharp pain and the taste of copper. I cannot help but lick again only to feel the pain subside and the wound close.
The ringing subsides and only in its absence do I know it was there. Objects around me move and now it's clear they're making sound, but the patterns are ones I can recognize.
I make out the phrase "Captain? Can you hear me?"
'Captain'? Is my name 'Captain'? That does not feel like my name.
I look to the one speaking before another quickly interrupts. "He shouldn't know his name, Clive."
The first man's name is Clive. He is a man. I look to my body. He is a man like me. He knows his name. Why shouldn't I know my name? I must ask.
"Why shouldn't I know my name, Clive?" There is a silence as loud as it is quiet.
The other man speaks even though I spoke to Clive. "It's not that you shouldn't. It's that you wouldn't... Do you know your name?"
"Do you know yours?" Conversing feels natural, but my throat feels dry.
The other man smiles and says "Tara. My name is Tara." This is not a man. Tara is a woman.
"Hello, Tara and Clive. Is my name 'Captain'?" I believe this is not my name, but Tara and Clive may know better.
Clive is looking to Tara for a response. She opens her mouth to speak, but there is a pause. "It's more of a title."
"Then what is my name?" I feel as though I have just been born. I long for an identity.
Tara motions for Clive to leave as she sits down in front of me to loosen my restraints. Why was I restrained? "I don't know your name. I know the name that once lived in your body, but that is not you."
"Tara, I do not understand. Am I prisoner?" As my wrists are freed, I feel a sense of relief though I still feel confined.
Tara passes me a glass of water. "The man who walked into this room and lay on this table once controlled your body. He was a Captain that volunteered for a procedure that would grant his body extraordinary abilities."
"Extraordinary? To what end?" What differentiates my current being from what he was?
Clive returns with a box, a clipboard, and food on a plate. "The Captain wished to be more than he was. We knew how to make that a reality."
"Did you know he would not be me?" Tara hands me a sandwich and I take a bite.
She unloads equipment from the box and begins to remove syringes from my arms. "Yes. We did."
"Did the Captain know he would not be me?" I can feel her pause in her actions, before placing a brace on both my wrists. They're heavy, but seem to be relaying information to her monitor. The world is becoming clearer.
Tara takes out her clipboard and begins taking notes. "No. He did not."
"In giving me life, you have taken his away?" I feel something within... This is guilt. I feel as though I have stolen from another man.
Tara is avoiding eye contact as she writes. "We promised him his body would be capable of performing remarkable things. We did not lie."
"You did not lie, but you did not tell the truth." I feel angry and dismissed. I clench at the sides of my bed.
Tara presses a button and my arms are pulled by the braces back to a resting position. She is standing now, looking at me once more, but a tear falls down her face. "We didn't have a choice, Capt-"
"I do not like this. Take these off." I hardly noticed the restraints before they were released, but now that I've experienced that freedom, how can I accept this?
Tara points to the sides of my bed where I clenched. Nothing but a hole the shape of my hand is left and I realize I'm holding the pieces still in my palms. "I'm sorry. It's a precaution. When your heart rate settles, it will automatically release. We don't yet know the extent of your abilities and we need to be sure you will not pose a threat to us or our facility."
"That makes sense." I calm myself and as she said, the braces released their pull. I considered trying to pry them off, but... I do not wish to be a threat.
Tara looks on in wonder and perhaps fear. I don't think she expected that response. "I don't want this to be difficult."
"I believe you." I don't know why, but I have a gut feeling Tara can be trusted.
There's a pause before Tara sits back down. "What can I call you?"
"I still need time to think. For now, call me 'Captain'."
|
*HSSS*
*SLURP*
"What. Am. I ?!?!?"
Henry said thickly, forcing coherence through his strange new mouth. What were these things inside his mouth, they felt like tendons!?
His examiner, who had introduced themselves as Lt. Grint, kept staring at him with a hawk-like intensity, and simply instructed:
"Discipline your mind, sergeant, and take stock. What is different?"
He kept looking at himself in the full-length mirror they had provided, the changes were strange and random. Patches of flakey, almost scaly skin. His forearms were bulging in strange ways, and he could swear his entire hip structure was lowered.
Then suddenly, it hit him. He knew exactly what was different, what had changed.
" My... mind." *Slurp* "Why. Am I. Not... afraid?" He was quickly adjusting to his new facial structure. His body was learning to use the new tracts to funnel excess saliva.
The lieutenant allowed a subtle smile, and replied "Well done Sgt. Juniper. You're the fastest yet to realize."
The lieutenant waved the techs forward and the MPs back, confident in this subjects self-control. The medical technicians folded out the mirror, so the sergeant could see more of themselves and adjust easier to their new body. They also more discreetly set up some scanning equipment, to monitor the sergeants responses and ensure general health.
"Begin your stretching routine, Sgt. Juniper. Learn your new body, while I explain."
Henry was grateful for the permission, and began his routine with a calculated slowness. These had to be treated as new muscles, he didn't yet know what this body could do.
"You are the first successfully integrated subject in project TSR-1986 , known commonly as the 'super-soldier project' , and known colloquially amongst the researchers as the 'Yuan-Ti Modification' "
"Aren't the... yuan-ti... , snake people? Am I part snake now?"
"Don't interrupt again, sergeant. And to answer the question, yes. Essentially. You have been modified, not only with superior speed, strength and stamina, but with certain reptilian traits we believe will be most useful in the performance of your duties."
"No fear."
"Exactly. The suppression of most emotion, allowing a clinical approach to unknown situations and more careful application of force. That was the main goal of the genetic integration. We also found ways to add more... shall we say, obvious advantages? Flex your new forearm muscles."
Henry stopped in his isometric routine, and examined his forearms. They were webbed with new blood vessels, and had a strange stiffness to them. He twitched and twisted his fingers, his palm, looking for these 'new' muscle groups, not quite finding them. He shook out his hands to start again, and suddenly felt a release of tension he hadn't realized was there. His looked at his hands.
"What are those?"
'Those' looked for all the world like milk teeth poking out from under his nails. They were leaking a yellowish fluid, and as he ran them over his palm, he could feel they were hard and very sharp.
"In essence? Those are your fangs. Retractable, we believe. They should deliver a small but lethal dose of venom into anyone you can even scratch in melee combat."
Henry looked at his hands. Retractable? How? He searched for that feeling of unknown tension releasing, and tried to reverse it. After a minute or so, the nubs retracted into their apparent place beneath his nail beds.
"If you succeed you will be the first of a new breed of soldier. Fearless, strong, lethal. Everything we need. Do you have any thoughts, feelings on this, Henry? Now is the chance to express them before you are sent for testing and training."
He looked at the lieutenant for a moment, then looked at himself again. He likely could never re-integrate into wider society with these modifications.
The dry, scaly skin aside, to be able to kill with a touch? To never again know fear, or love, or lust?
His newly cold, reptilian mind incorporated all these facts, and came to a conclusion. It would have been sad, if he could feel that anymore. He stepped away from the mirror, and stopped directly in front of the lieutenant. He came to parade ground attention. The lieutenant smiled when he said just four words:
"I am your weapon."
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mctg8r3
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mctdlii
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[WP] "Dragon, I've come to slay you!" Confused, you look at the unarmored child pointing a wooden sword at you.
|
“Pardon me, kid?” Said Zorlance, surprised that a small child made it up his mountain and across the rickety bridge over boiling lava.
“I’ve come to slay you!” Said the girl, thrusting his sword at him.
Zorlance try’s not to laugh, “You? You sure you can do that?”
“Yes sir!” The kid said, with unmatched confidence.
He chuckles, “You think you can defeat me?”
“Yes I do!” She said, stepping closer. He hadn’t ever seen grown adult man with as much confidence as this young girl.
“What makes you think that?” Zorlance said, towering over her.
Her confidence drops slightly, “The boys in my class say a girl couldn’t defeat a dragon, so I wanna prove them wrong!” She said, raising her sword.
Zorlance smiled, cute kid, reminded him of his son when he was younger. “Okay, take a hit!” He said, straightening himself up.
The girl takes a big swing at his ankle, He barely felt it, but Zorlance fell backwards, laying on his back, “OUCH! Aw! You got me good!”
The girl chuckled, pathetically hitting his foot a few times.
“OW! OUCH! AWW YOU’RE SO STRONG I CANNOT HANDLE IT!” Zorlance says, holding back laughter.
The girl beams at the compliments, “I don’t wanna kill you Mr. Dragon, so I’m gonna let you go, but be warned I’ll come back!”
“Oh thank you, Noble knight! Your heart is as strong as you are! What should I call you, you brave soldier?”
“My name is Isabella, but you can call me Izzy!”
“Well brave Izzy, I will be dreading your next arrival!” Zorlance said, holding his foot dramatically.
Izzy chuckles, skipping away. “Goodbye Mr. Dragon! I’ll be back to defeat you one day!”
“I’ll be fearfully waiting!” Zorlance replied, watching the girl eagerly make her way back across the rickety bridge with the happiness of a girl who’d been given the sun and the moon.
|
"Heya Uncle Razz!" A familiar squeaky voice cuts through my dreamscape like a hot sword through a slime. I groggily lift my head from my pile of treasures and scan the location of the voice and my eyes immediately lock on to the small boy wearing a T-shirt, overalls and sneakers.
As the fog of sleep clears a bit, I let out a big yawn. "Ah, Michael my boy, a pleasure to see you as always. Where are your parents lad?"
"Momma said I'm gonna stay with you while Papa an Her go on a trip. I have a note for yew!" Had I been a lesser creature, I may have suffered a heart attack from this endearing munchkin. I lifted the note out of the boy's hand as he pulled it out of his backpack.
'Hey big bro, sorry I couldn't stay to catch up, I booked a trip with the hubby as a surprise anniversary gift and Mike has been wanting to visit you again for a while. Sorry for such short notice, I'll bring you back some souvenirs.'
I let out a sigh then chuckle. "Well, your Papa does deserve a nice vacation. After all, he has to deal with my sister everyday and that's Herculean feat by itself. So little one, what would you like to do?"
"Can we play Knights?"
"Of course lad"
The boy's face lit up and he pulled a wooden sword out of his bag and pointed it at me and said "Dragon, I've come to slay you!"
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jqr91yj
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jqqxmx0
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[WP] You never really believed your grandmother's stories about the little people who lived in her home. After she passed and left it to you, you said, "Okay, Little People! I'm sorry, but the economy sucks, so I'm going to have start charging rent." In the morning, you find a small pile of gold.
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It was the small things: A saucer of milk left out every evening, just as Nana had always done, and the empty saucer picked up in the morning. Accepting that occasionally an especially plump marrow or tomato would disappear from my vegetable garden. And the gold, which came with unfailing regularity on the morning after every new moon.
It was the small things that I had come to accept as the foibles of my particular tenants, whoever, or whatever, they were.
The man and the woman came from an investment company with too many surnames in its name. They wanted the house - or rather, they wanted the land so that they could raze the house and the woods behind it and build "a community". They tried an appeal to my charity, talking in their perfectly tailored suits about housing shortages and cost of living crises, and when that failed they offered a different kind of gold, deposited straight into my bank account, enough that I would be able to afford to go to the same tailor as them, had I wished to.
I scowled as I watched them walk away down the drive. Their promise of "Not taking no for an answer" had sounded more like a stick than a carrot. They got into the new BMW and tried for several minutes to start its engine with a dead battery. It occurred to me, as I watched with an uncharitable amusement, that I had never once had car trouble in the two years that I'd lived here, and that Nana's old beater had kept going for decades longer than it had any business doing so. A bit like her, really.
I saw them think about knocking, but apparently their previous exit at the sharp end of a shotgun was still fresh in their minds, and instead they walked away down the drive. When the tow company's truck showed up the next day to collect, I offered the two nice young men glasses of ice tea, and we sat on the porch talking about how the town was changing, and about how it wasn't. They had the time - the BMW's engine had started perfectly on their first attempt. That was German engineering for you, but I did put out a larger saucer of milk that night.
---
More stories at r/jd_rallage
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My Grandmother used to tell me stories of the Little People. She said they lived in our home.
.
"But Grandma how come I never see them?" I would argue.
"Why should you huh? What have you done? I only know them because i saved one back in my younger days. And because I listen. Spend some hours on the floor, lying so still your insides prick, do nothing else in the silence, then maybe you'll hear them. If you're lucky, you'll get a peak." She would respond.
I never did as she said.
I never truly believed, so it was with half heartedness when I said the following words, decades later. It was after she left me the house. A fine cottage straight out of a fairytale, with an adorable red rooftop and chimney, and neat rows of flower beds.
First, I breathed in and out. Then I began.
"Ok. So um Little People I'm sorry but the economy sucks, i'm going to start charging rent."
I hadn't worked out the amount. That night, I did some drawings in my sketchbook, then went to bed. In the morning, I found a small pile of gold coins in a cute little bag, tied with a banana leaf. Shocked, I wrote back.
"Thanks for the coins. I'll check later how much they translate to in our current currency. Meanwhile, would you like to join me for tea later? I can make sandwiches, you can tell me about your time with my grandmother."
With Love,
Anne Mainer
I waited eagerly for a couple hours, but I received no response. Eventually, I left it there and stopped checking. I saw a reply the next morning.
"Tea sounds lovely. How does 4 oclock work for you?"
Your's Truly,
The Little People,
Littleish
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jdryqnr
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jdrjynh
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[WP] Destroying 90% human population on earth, the aliens leave, assuming that society would crumble, and remaining 10% will just all fight for resources and eventually die out. They returned a thousand years later, expecting a cleansed planet, but were met with a nuclear strike from a satellite.
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We call it the 80-20 rule.
Clean out 80% population of a species, and the rest 20% dies out on its own.
This rule has been in place as long as there has been xenocidal wars in the galaxy.
Exterminating an entire species to its last member is not economical. We wanted to find a sweet spot where we can annihilate a species at the lowest expense. Basis multiple trials and errors, the 80-20 rule was followed. It has never failed.
Eventually, however, a mistake was made.
A primitive species was found on the third planet from the star in a remote system in the galaxy. In his zeal, the Admiral of the quadrant wiped out *90%* instead of the calculated 80% of the population.
This mistake was quickly noted, the Admiral was quickly stripped of his ranks and sent to a penal colony, his incompetence filed away.
Everyone forgot about the incident.
A thousand years later, someone discovered this incident in the archives. Determined to make a movie out of the whole incident (“The incompetent admiral”), they sought the help of the imperial starfleet to shoot the movie at the site of the actual incident.
Our first hint that something was amiss was the massive Dyson sphere around the system that contained the planet. As the scout ship accompanying the movie crew approached the sphere, they were vaporized by multiple nuclear strikes from satellites orbiting the sphere.
While this was unexpected, it was not intimidating. The “humans” had used nuclear strikes in the first war as well. Surprised at the fact that some resistance still remained, we sent in a fleet to seek and destroy whoever remained.
Little did we know we were walking into a trap.
The humans had used the thousand years to reverse engineer our technology and understand our battle strategies. Their first move *was designed* to draw out a fleet to measure our current capabilities, both technological and strategic.
In this we were found severely lacking.
Now, nearly two thousand years after that second contact, we stand at the brink of extinction.
The humans do not care about the costs of war. On every planet they have conquered, they have systematically exterminated every man, women at children.
Even now, while we desperately fight to defend our capital city on our home planet, our last citadel, I hear whispers of camps being set up in the conquered territories, where our captured citizens are systematically massacred.
If these are to be my last words, do pay heed.
While in Xenocide, do not violate the 80-20 rule.
Crossing the 80% threshold apparently *prevents* a species from dying out.
|
The negotiations had gone wrong. Terribly wrong. They had seemed to be going well, but the translators missed the mark, which led to one thing and another.
The aliens bombed the Earth with radiation, killing 90% of humans and much flora and fauna. They left, expecting to find a clean planet in a few thousand years; thinking humanity had been set back.
How wrong they were.
The humans flailed around initially - they were distraught at the loss of family, food, water, internet, electricity. However, they soon recovered. The power grid was destroyed, but through the efforts of thousands in each country, most of them were back online in 3 years. The food supply had shriveled up, but the farmland was still good, and the fertilizer was begging to be used for a year. Thus, the population slowly recovered. The radiation had caused a little infertility, so the initial births were slow. The water supply was being managed well by humans.
They managed to get cell towers and phones working again in 7 years. Google, Cloudflare, Microsoft, all under new management.
After 15 years of such torture, humanity rebooted the war effort. Slowly but surely, for they were still terrified of the aliens finding out, they began building spacecrafts.
It was difficult. The radiation had corrupted most of the data on the electronics. Most professionals were dead. Politics was prominent. But humanity didn't ever stop.
[1000 After Incident]
Humanity
--------
Population: 29,000,000,000 [Compare: 143,000,000,000,000]
Primary energy collection method: Dyson Sphere, Camouflaged, Partial (89%) [Compare: Dyson Sphere, Partial (6%)]
Primary weapons: Nuclear fission missiles, Tier 62 [Compare: Tier 21]
Threat level: 39,404 [Compare: 144]
Orders: Terminate on sight
"Delta: Reporting, statistics seem to be corrupted."
"Alpha: The authenticity of these tatistics has been confirmed by standard procedures."
"Delta: *Stupid AI.* Recalculate records."
"Alpha: The authenticity of these statistics has been confirmed by standard procedures."
To be continued tomorrow, given someone reminds me here
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ksn8gfm
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ksmhuv4
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[WP] Humanity has finally invented FTL travel, but the first human pilot to undergo FTL came out of their ship screaming.
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I oversaw Project Icarus. The mission was simple, defy Lorentz Invariance and move faster than the speed of light. It was the great Manhattan Project of our time. We swallowed thousands of top rate intellectuals, and brought them together to make the next great leap in our technological capability.
We worked quietly for years. People on the outside could tell we were doing something, keeping a project so big totally secret was an impossibility. Problems that had been once intractable were framed in the right way, and solutions found. For seven years and five months, we labored. Until at last, we stood ready to launch the fruit of our labor, a spacecraft named The Theseus.
It would be piloted by a human. Doris Kotkin, a woman with an exceptional career in the air force, was selected. She would be assisted with a suite of AI systems. Succeed or fail, today would be marked forever in our history.
The Theseus undocked from the station where it was assembled. It accelerated away, until it was a safe distance from any structure. Its FTL drive was activated, and it disappeared. Now we would wait. The Theseus would travel to the Toliman star of the Alpha Centauri system and back, in hours instead of years.
Time flowed. We passed the originally planned return time, but there was nothing. Minutes became hours, until an eddy appeared in space at the location The Theseus was supposed to. Like a candle, it guttered in the wind, until a battered version of The Theseus appeared.
It was clear something unexpected had occurred. Diagnostics were launched, the various recording apparatus interrogated for their data. Thousands of errors appeared, things that our systems could not comprehend or analyze. After about a minute of troubleshooting, we established the video connection to the cockpit. "Major Kotkin, this is Commander Rutherford. Report. What happened?"
"SEND. ME. BACK."
"What?"
"SEND. ME. BACK."
"What the hell happened?"
"There is... There is a war on. One that the good guys are losing. Send me back, they need all the help they can get. You need to build more ships. We need to pour everything into this."
"We're extracting you from the cockpit. Something has gone wrong and we need to analyze the data recorders and your physiological monitors. There is so much we need to understand.
"NO. Send everyone after me. Send a fleet so large it boggles the mind. They need it all. I'm going back."
A final data dump was sent, before all connection to The Theseus was cut. Even the secret channels which Major Kotkin could not have known about. A minute later, The Theseus had disappeared, in a rush to parts unknown.
We invested massive resources into analyzing all the data. Most of it didn't make sense. We recruited even more intelligent people, Project Icarus had just become much more complicated.
|
##Relative Horror
Crowds gathered at the platform as Glenn Wright landed. T-Shirts with his face were scattered in the crowd. A few had a picture of the first plane flown with the phrase "Wright Dynasty" written above it. His lineage was controversial as he was related to the Wright brothers' cousin, but it made for a snappy slogan.
When his ship past Neptune, it left faster than light travel and slowed down. A few were reviewing the theoretical nature of relativity on their screens before he landed. At Jupiter, his craft hit the first net designed to slow it down. The net was a term for a complicated set of jets and mass that caught a craft and applied momentum in the opposite direction. A large amount of the transportation budget went to them. At Mars, the ship slowed to a near halt.
Glenn's capsule was ejected from the ship towards Earth. In three minutes, he would exit the ship. A few children were jumping with anticipation.
The crowd greeted the object in the sky with applause. When Glenn emerged, they screamed at him. He screamed in return. Most people assumed that it was joyful. A few noted his face didn't look happy.
Glenn ran to a nearby podium setup. He wasn't expected to give a speech, but the option was still presented. He opened his mouth to give his first words.
"We're all doomed," Glenn said. The crowd went silent. Across the solar system, people were glued to their screens.
"Humanity never should've flown." Glenn began to shake. "My family made a mistake. I saw horrors going faster than light."
Parents protected their children who started to cry. An enterprising bureaucrat grabbed his arm to pull him away, but Glenn shook him off.
"The universe is horrifying." Glenn continued to shout. More men came out and dragged him. As he was pulled off the stage, he continued to scream. The crowd erupted into concerned chaos. What could have happened up there?
Glenn was placed into a hovercraft and jetted off. A psychologist was waiting to interview him in the car. Dr. Pan opened his notebook.
"How do you feel Mr. Wright," Dr. Pan asked. Glenn looked up at the psychologist. His facial features twisted and contorted.
"The world doesn't make sense anymore." Glenn began to cry.
"We were afraid of that," Dr. Pan smiled, "Don't worry though. We'll be sure it makes sense for you soon."
---
r/AstroRideWrites
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j3tt143
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j3t7kzk
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[WP] A millennium ago, only the wealthiest were allowed to board the ship, allowed to escape this dying planet into space. In their absence the world healed and humanity built a new utopia. Now, the ulta-rich have returned and want to reap the benefits of the new world.
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The only reason you are reading this is because the system fucked up.
New Earth 2 launched a long time ago to escape the doomed planet and promised to ensure the survival of the human race. Only the stupid rich were allowed onboard. Let me be clear, when I say stupid rich I mean it both literally and hyperbolically.
The passengers were those who had inherited untold fortunes and never struggled for any of it. Truly some of them had never actually lifted a finger. Fed by automatic machines and carted around by wheeled devices before they ever launched into space.
The designers and engineers who built New Earth 2 were not wealthy enough to afford the private jets to the island where the transport shuttles took off to reach the orbiting vessel. The data on each of the 1200 passengers was leaked just before it gravity boosted around Jupiter and left the solar system.
Not one was under the age of 30. Not one had read a book since their childhood. Not one could have figured out how to open a locked door or cooked a meal, not that any of that mattered aboard the pleasure yacht that New Earth 2 turned out to be.
Everything was automated. Food, entertainment, travel from one deck to another. Sleep was scheduled and enforced so no passenger needed to worry about anything at all. Even death was automated. At age 57, each passenger was forcibly recycled. A new cloned body was brought up out of storage, the passenger memories were loaded up, and life began *anew*.
All was fine for almost 1000 years. The clone vats were still producing, the chemical photosynthesis factory was in full output, and even the artificial meat farms were fully stocked with freeze dried sustenance for at least 50 more years at any given time.
The reason it all came crashing to a halt was because of nature. That crafty bitch worked her magic even in the sterile (remember literally, the clones did not reproduce) environment with humans who did not know what grass or dirt was. A mutation that even the smartest engineers and scientists never predicted. A disease, really.
(Part 2, maybe?)
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The ship touched down and its ultrarich passengers disembarked into what could only be considered the largest marijuana field in the history of the world.
"This is familiar. Isn't this cannabis?" The Captain asked of his second in command.
*Forty days later*
Village Chief, you have got to see this," a hunter called out upon entering the village's gate.
"Chief! Chief! We found an old Sojourner Shuttle. It touched down on the Munchy Plain."
"I thought we agreed I would tell him," the hunter growled, surly a being beat the punch.
"A Sojourner?" The Chief intoned thoughtfully. "Those were the flights of the priveleged."
"Yeah, well, they're not so priveleged now," one of them laughed. Instead of explaining, the hunters lead their chief and some warriors to the edge of the Munchy Plains. Upon arriving, the tribesmen couldn't help grinning at the sight.
"Their landing rockets set the plain on fire!" The second hunter told him joyfully.
"You did it again. I was going to tell him," the first hunter whined.
"Enough. Don't ruin this for me," the chief said with a grin. Out in the middle of the plain small fires were spreading outward and away from a large silvery ship. On the side was an American flag and the word Sojourner emblazoned on the side. Surrounding the ship and wandering around like drunk zombies were close to two thousand partially dressed men and women. They were engaged in everything from making out to laughing inanely in groups and alone.
For the tribesmen, it was the best possible outcome.
"Rouse the other tribes," the chief ordered. "We have an invasion to prevent."
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j2p79xr
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j2p6kks
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[WP] I, a fae noble(23,000 m), made a deal with a person that they'd get a Kingdom in exchange for their firstborn that I intend to raise as my own. But when I came to get the child, the now monarch refused to give it to me. WIBTA if I take away their kingdom and child, and put a curse the monarch?
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Mmm... Here's the thing. If they were another fairy like you or I, then obviously immediate curses and the like would be fine. A deal's a deal. The issue is that human are... well, humans. Did you make sure that the monarch knew how fairies work? There's a bunch of kids shows nowadays that are extremely misguiding.
I'd say, just to be on the safe side, explain your side to the monarch just to make sure they didn't have a fit of raving lunacy, or hysteria, or whatever humans get. Maybe drunk? If they don't listen, just have a few cases of minor misfortune hit the kingdom. They can probably guess why it's happening.
If they still won't fulfill their end of the deal, I'd say definitely curse them. Taking away the kingdom probably gets one or more adventurers sent after you, and they've got an annoying amount of plot armor. And of course, if they insult you? Well, you don't just insult a fairy and get away with it!
Well wishes for you and your future child! Come and visit sometime soon!
\-Sylva
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YWBTA, while you are obligated to their firstborn child, they're obligated to the kingdom you promised. I suggest that you take the child by force, but let them keep the kingdom. Though if the monarch tries to get the kid back, you can take away the kingdom since they're more proactively violating your agreement. Alternatively, though I don't personally go for this option that much since I want the kid, but you could take away the kingdom and let them keep the kid! But honestly, if you do both right off the bat, you're just a straight up asshole, sorry!
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k88lsyq
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k887x6h
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[WP] "Yeah, my brother got possesed by a demon, but we couldn't afford an exorcist."
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"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."
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Derek is a high school student who is fooling around with his friends while his class is going on.
His teacher Jasmine,has been tolerating him for a while now.
But this time she lets loose.
JASMINE:
Derek, stand up! Is there something you want to share with the rest of the class?
DEREK:
No...not really. Do you?
The class erupts in laughter.
JASMINE:
Your brother Joseph was the most brilliant student I have ever known and look at you.
DEREK:
I turned out better than him though.
JASMINE:
How so?
Derek puts his head down.
DEREK:
Ohh you haven't heard? He hasn't been doing well these days. He gets rapid mood swings and tries...to kill everyone near him.
Jasmine is shocked.
DEREK:
The priest says that there's a demon inside him but...we cannot afford an exorcist.
JASMINE:
I am sorry to hear that,Derek.
DEREK:
This is one of the reasons I have been distracted in class,I am really sorry ma'am. This is no excuse for me to be indisciplined though. I will study hard and become someone great and I will hire an exorcist for my brother.
Jasmine is impressed by Derek's words.
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jgvlomi
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jgt4m97
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[WP] The king has the ability to see team colors. Everyone who's working towards the same goal as a group appears to be wearing the same color, regardless of what color their clothes actually are. This makes conspiring against him really, really hard.
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We like green. All of our best friends wear green. Some may dare to say we are silly because these friends often tell us they wear the colors of their houses. Sometimes, if we squint very hard and lift our crown, we can see their clothes as they do. Amusingly, when we do this, we find they sometimes wear green because we have said we favor it. Even our fool, upon hearing of our vision, has pranced around in a green codpiece and nothing more. Though, we think it merely an opportunity to exhibit his statuesque physique.
They tell us that purple is a regal color. We do not care for it. The purple men smile too widely and speak too much. They ask if the green they wear is flattering. We know them as sycophants and must take careful consideration to their words.
The blue men are safe. Our knights and guards are men of duty and honor, though their affections for us seem bound by the chasm of rank and station. Oddly, some of them are also brown men. Ought we be concerned the queen wears blue as well?
I see more of the brown men among the common folk. We believe it to mean some sort of obligation or fear. Not like the yellow men among the common folk, those who brighten to see their liege ride among them. Are they safe, happy, and prosperous? It brings us good cheer to see yellow men. It inspires us to lead well and fair.
The red men skulk about. Our agents always find some scheme or crime among the red men. Like the purple men, they claim to wear green, but we see their sleeves as only red. They seek to do us harm. One may think their presence should invoke fear, but they do not. The red men draw our ire and shall be quietly dispatched.
But, there is the grey man, the court astrologer. When not scribbling over a draft table or observing the cycle of at the stars, he skulks the halls muttering to himself. The man is mired in portents and visions, and his word bears a divine weight that would dare rival our own divine right to rule. We fear the grey man more than any other.
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The enemy king knows this, and enlists the help of a fool under the guise of the king's ambassador. Not realizing what he is doing is hurting the king, he is not conspiring against him. Unfortunately, he was too dumb to do it quietly and is caught. When presented before the king, the king sees the color of his own kingdom. Satisfied that the fool was not conspiring against him, he was released. When the fool leaves and returns to his home, he was killed, as to make sure he never realizes what had transpired. The enemy king's ambassadors must find someone of meagre intelligence; someone who is dumb enough to think that what they're doing is helping the king, while smart enough to get it done. One ambassador finds a nobleman's child. The child had been shielded from the horrors of war, and most of the outside world, taking time mostly to study. As such, the child was incredibly trusting, while of incredible intellect. When the ambassador arrived, the nobleman was away. They spoke of exploration, childish games and curiosity. The child admitted he felt trapped in his own home, and imagined the world outside his land a fantastic sight to behold. The ambassador convinced the child that he was close to the king, and knew that the king had lost a precious family heirloom somewhere in the castle. He asked the child to go to the castle and explore, create a map, and find the heirloom, returning it to the king. I'll stop here, mb let someone else pick it up but I'm out of time
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jd1qa8o
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jd0mtbl
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[WP] "God can come have coffee with me if he's really interested." You said, shutting the door on some irritating guys with pamphlets. The very next day, God taps lightly on your door, to have a coffee.
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"I'm a little surprised you brought Dunkin."
The man standing in your doorway is holding a box of donuts and a pair of paper coffee cups. He's dressed plainly, if a little datedly; wearing slacks, penny loafers, and a red zip-up sweater, He resembles nothing so much as a Mr. Rogers impersonator. You can't clearly see His face- some sort of otherworldly light (you hate to describe it as a halo, but no other word really fits the description) is shining from just behind His head, blinding you to the details of His appearance.
Even if the halo weren't there, you would know who this visitor was. There's a unique feeling that comes with being in His presence. It is, in equal parts, totally alien and hauntingly familiar. There is an overwhelming sense of love radiating from Him, a love great enough to be felt by everyone in the world.
God is standing on your front porch, and He's brought coffee.
"Is something wrong with Dunkin?" He asks. There is a gentleness to His voice that suggests genuine curiosity, and quiet amusement.
"Er, no, not really..." You explain, stepping back to let Him in. "It's just that, well... It's kind of ordinary, isn't it? I mean, you have access to all of history's greatest coffee-makers. You could have called up Juan Valdez or something!"
"Juan Valdez is a fictional character." He explains in a tone not far removed from a laugh. "But if you want Columbian coffee instead, I *do* know a place."
You've lead your guest into the living room now, and you're just about to try a donut when the question you're dying to ask jumps out unbidden.
"Are you here to punish me for turning away those guys with the pamphlets?"
"Nah. Rejection's part of the game when you work door-to-door."
"So... Why *are* you here?"
Your guest helps himself to a cruller, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before finally answering, "Can't a guy take a coffee break?"
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"Hello?"
"Oh hey, Deaf Bard. It's me."
"Heyyyyyy...?"
"...God."
"..."
"Yeah, remember yesterday? The asshole jerkwads with the pamphlets?"
"I---"
"I know, terrible, right? But I was juuust happening a-by, and caught a bit of the convo, so."
"Wait, do---"
"And I get it, I get it. To be fair, they kinda slipped under the wire under a technicality. Ooh, I love your mud room!"
"Oh, uh, thank you. Come on in, yeah, have a seat..."
"No need for the tour, I'm familiar with the place. So... you play by ear, that kind of thing?"
"Uh, no I---"
"No worries, mate. I'm happy you invited me over, it's been a haute hot hee-haw-hawt minute or two since I have a bean-me-up-Scotty."
"Sure, that's fine. I'm just going to pop in the back and--"
"Deebee?"
"...y-yeah?"
"Come on."
"What?"
"Dude. You ran out yesterday. Drank the last right after those tit-bits showed up and left, and even giggled about your comment after you downed yourself some dregs."
"That... I'm going---"
"Sure, sure, that's fine, I'm just busting your balls. Just a busty, Krusty Krab."
"Oh my Go--"
"Watch it..."
"...thanks for understanding. Man, I feel just awful about that."
"Oh, no worries, Sweet Deebs. I'm more of a stoner chick."
"A... a stoner chick?"
"Yessss, yes-yes-yes-yes. Just a slob like one of you, eh? Kurasawa and kief, let's get kraken."
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jm5fp40
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jm5e3cr
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[WP] You're about to be sacrificed by a cult, but when the demon appears before you, it speaks with the voice of your high school friend and says "Hey man, haven't seen you in forever!"
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In their basement lair, the hooded cultist gathered for the ceremony. Years of patient research had led them to this point. The ritual circle had been drawn in the center of the room. The black candles had been lit in the proper order. Their hapless victim lay chained atop an altar nearby, peering blearily around the dim chamber as the last of the sedative wore off. She would be fully awake, soon, but it was far too late for her to save herself. They had already nicked her wrist and drawn forth the necessary amount of virgin’s blood, which now filled the unholy chalice. By the time she was alert enough to realize what was going on, her fate would be sealed.
The group’s eerie chanting reached its crescendo, filling the basement with guttural reverberations. The ritual circle began to hum with power. And then, as their leader cried out the final cursed syllables in triumph, their dark lord appeared in a burst of crimson flame!
The demon unfurled his batlike wings, his eyes glowing red in the candlelight. His hulking form towered above them. His bestial goat’s head, crowned by five wicked horns, practically brushed the ceiling of the small room where they stood. Eyeing the gathering of hooded worshipers, he spoke with a voice that shook them to their core.
“WHO DARES TO SUMMON ASMODEUS, DEMON PRINCE OF THE SEVENTH—” the enormous creature paused, his eyes widening in surprise. “Hold on,” he said. “Is that *Vanessa*?”
The gathered cultists shared a few confused looks. Was this how a summoning was supposed to go? They were pretty sure this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
The leader recovered first, bowing low. “Uh… great lord!” he said, attempting to return to a more familiar script. “We have gathered here to offer you a sacrifice! We have filled the dark chalice, as instructed, and—”
The demon raised a clawed hand to silence him. “Hey. Shut up.” He continued to peer over their heads, his gaze fixed on something behind them. “Vee, is that you?”
As one, the cultists slowly turned to face the altar at the back of the room. On it, the virgin sacrifice was squinting at them as she tried to get her bearings.
“Oh, hey Ozzy,” she muttered groggily. “Been a while.”
“Holy crap!” laughed Asmodeus. “It *is* you!” He shook his head, smiling. “You look like shit! What the hell are you doing here?”
The girl—Vanessa, apparently—lifted her head up from the stone slab she was chained too and then winced, lying back and closing her eyes. “Oof," she muttered. "Wish I knew, man. Last thing I remember is talking with that cute barista as she closed up shop. Judging from this headache, I’m gonna guess there was a little something extra in those ‘free samples’ she kept giving me.” She groaned unhappily. “Mind filling me in?”
The demon prince frowned, then turned his attention to the cultist leader. “You,” he said. “Explain.”
The cowled figure cringed beneath his gaze, stuttering nervously. “Um. We, uh… we were going to offer you a sacrifice,” he said. He raised the black chalice in his hands hopefully. “With, you know… virgin blood? Like the book says to do?”
Asmodeus stared at him in disbelief, then threw back his head and laughed. It went on for some time. “You were going to—” he laughed again, then managed to regain control of himself with some effort. “I’m sorry, you were going to use *her*?” He pointed at their chosen victim. “Vanessa Blackwell?” He peered into the shadowed hoods assembled before him, as if trying to understand a joke. “You think Vee’s a *virgin*?”
From the back of the room, a weak chuckle broke the silence. Asmodeus grinned at the sound. “Oh, you guys *really* fucked up,” he said.
At this, a young woman’s voice piped up in helpless protest. “But my lord,” the robed figure said, “she *is* a virgin! She told me she had never been with a man!”
The cultists cringed as the demon laughed again, harder this time. There were tears coming from his eyes, now. “I’m sorry,” he said eventually. “I’m sorry. It’s just… if you only knew!”
“Wait, I recognize that voice,” said Vanessa, sounding significantly more coherent now. “Cindy, is that you?”
The cultist in question sheepishly turned back to face the altar once more. “Er… yes?”
Vanessa sighed. “Cindy…” She gestured to her clothes, causing her chains to rattle. Her heavy boots. Her chunky rings. The patches on her studded jean jacket. “Cindy, you idiot,” she said. “I’m *gay.* I was *hitting* on you.”
“Oh,” said Cindy the barista. Then, after a slight pause: “…ohhhhhhhh.”
Asmodeus smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “Yeah, I’d say my girl here’s had *more* than her share of carnal delights. Vee summoned me nearly every night for two straight years in high school, trying to learn the dark arts. She must have gone through half the senior class at Notre Dame by the time she graduated.” He shook his head at the memory. “Best witch I’ve met in years!”
The lead cultist went still. “Hold on,” he said. “This girl’s a witch?”
The demon's smile widened. “A damned good one,” he said. He looked over their heads again to the altar. “You alright back there, Vee? I’ve got a politician in Georgia who’s willing to sell his soul for the next election. You think you can handle things from here?”
“I’ve got this,” Vee responded. “You go have fun.”
Asmodeus nodded, then looked back down at the unfortunate cultists gazing up at him. “Alright. I’m out.” He winked. “Good luck!”
And with that, the demon prince disappeared in a roar of flame, leaving nothing but a wisp of smoke and a black scorch mark on the floor behind him.
In the silence that followed, the cultists turned to face their former prisoner. She was sitting upright on the altar now, tilting her head back and forth with her eyes closed, trying to work out some uncomfortable kink in her neck. And her chains, they couldn’t help but notice, were gone.
When she opened her eyes, they glowed red with unholy power.
“Right,” she said, raising her hands into claws before her. “You fuckers are about to have a *really* bad night."
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The sword pressed deep against the wounds on my back as I slowly hoisted it up to the altar. Thunderous applause rang in my ears, obnoxiously grating against the last of my will. I told myself that all that mattered was that the Callers were pleased. My reward would be worth the corset I'd been made to bear, "a fortune of the other worlds," Caller Zachary said to me the night I'd been Called.
Fitting into the garment had not been simple, but they promised that my torso would fit betwixt the bone frames when I was ready. They had been right, as they had been about everything. I couldn't have imagined myself so frail and undesiring of simple sustenance. It had been easier than I thought, even during those nights the hunger was so intense I cried for hours against the bars of my cell. Pangs of desire faded into a murky acceptance as I gazed into the arabesque pattern on the ceiling of the cell, almost face-to-face with Bal-sheth. I understood he needed me, and I was ready to serve. At his feet, a banquet of the finest fruits was prepared. I would eat, and never go hungry again.
I arrived before an altar decorated with the most precious of what the Callers held dear, the things that they'd given begrudgingly to Bal-sheth. A can of Axe body spray, a pair of underwear, and a deck of Pokemon cards, among other things. Caller Zachary stood front and center, most of his body concealed by a blood-red robe. In his hand, he held the Book of Unholy Sacraments, which he read from as I approached and knelt before him.
"We are gathered here today in the name of Bal-sheth, to offer to him willing and unholy flesh..."
I lost track of what he was saying. Behind him, a strange white light appeared. At first, I thought this was the coming of Bal-sheth. I expected him to appear in his full form, eight feet tall and black, ripped with muscles and horns. Instead, I saw the image of a guy I knew in high school who went by the name of Josh. I shook my head. *I must really be losing it.*
"Hey man, haven't seen you in forever!" he said with a smile. Around his neck he wore a cross, reminding me that he used to be the Bible guy always talking about Jesus. Definitely, *the last* person I wanted to see. Bal-sheth hated everything about that Jesus guy, and he wouldn't be pleased for him to suddenly appear during his most unholy ritual.
But then I thought, what if Josh is Bal-sheth in disguise? Should I talk to this guy? Is he the one that's come to take me away to the banquet?
"I'm ready," I said.
"You look ready," Josh said, putting his thumbs up in the air to offer encouragement.
Welp, if this was the Josh I knew, he definitely wouldn't put his thumb up for a demon. He would've been telling me that failing to go to church on Sunday was a path straight to Hell. It had to be Bal-sheth in disguise. Maybe this was some kind of final test of loyalty? Proof that I wasn't going to defect in the final moments? It seemed silly, I'd been starving myself for weeks for him and willingly walked the instrument of my own death up to his altar. Why would he doubt me now?
"Repeat after me," Caller Zachary said. "I solemnly vow to be the eternal servant of Bal-sheth, to serve at his feet until existence ceases, to follow his every command, to become at one with him in the cosmos."
Josh started shaking his head vigorously. "No way man!" he said.
*What?*
I blinked my eyes and looked around. Josh was still there, looking at me expectantly.
"Have you doubt, submissive?" Caller Zachary kicked me in the shoulder hard enough that I yelped in pain, my skeleton reverberating from the blow. The force re-centered my mind, as the Corrections always did.
"I solemnly vow..." I started to speak but found my mouth suddenly full of liquid. When I rolled it around my tongue I realized it was blood. I could no longer utter a word. Josh made the motion of bowing his head and folding his hands in prayer. Nope, *definitely not Bal-sheth*, who condemned his followers to eternal suffering for even the minor act of attempting to pray. I kept my head still. My chin felt warm as blood began to trickle from my lips.
Caller Zachary grabbed the chain around my neck and pulled me to face him, forcing me to gag on the blood. A deep sense of shame filled me. I was unworthy of the object to which we all sought, unworthy of serving. The past ten years replayed themselves in my mind, from the moment I'd found the Order, the moment I'd made my vow, the time I'd spent dutifully serving the Callers, until the moment they Called me. All of it was a failure. Tears would've filled my eyes, but my final day without water had left me too dehydrated to physically show my shame.
Caller Zachary tossed my frail frame to the ground, shattering me into a thousand pieces. The world went black. I heard footsteps, slow at first, then fast. Light flashed in and out of my vision. I saw the Callers, then Josh, and then a weird mix of them that made my shriveled stomach turn. I saw Bal-sheth, and knew that I had to redeem myself. I lifted myself to my knees with the last of my strength, begging for him to take me as I stared blindly at the ground.
When I opened my eyes and saw the police had come, I was crushed. Destroyed. You see, doctor. I was meant to be taken by him. I have to go back there. The Caller is to depart my soul from this world with the edge of the blade.
The doctor shook her head. "I know you believe very much in Bal-sheth, and I want to support you in your needs, but let's not make any hasty decisions here."
"Let's take it nice and slow," Josh said from behind her.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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k6cp8e1
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k6bt6t9
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[WP] A young elf asks "Why should I fear humans , they live for such a short amount of time" and a elder elf answers
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Why do we fear the great forest creatures? asked the old elf to his pupil, still focused on his potted flowers.
"Because, though we rule at the top, we are still part of its cycle, a panther can ambush us, a crocodile may drag us to the river and drown us and so on" answered the youngster.
The master turned to see his pupil...
"That is an acceptable answer for a simple mind... but we both know that is not the answer I seek", the old master inquired his wayward pupil... They were scholars, living as hermits in the humid forests of the south. Their home humidity is naturally destructive to scrolls and other forms of paper but filled with so much life...
From the smallest ant to the mightiest of felines, every meter was a treasure trove for studious elves like them.
He took a breath... And looked at his student.
His eyes filled with the naivety of the bicentennials, they hadn't lived through the wars against the Human Kingdoms.
He hasn't lived through their cruel ingenuity, machines that still threaten their home with their saws and furnaces, or chemicals that may poison even the strongest.
He knew the answer he sought from his pupil. But wanted him to understand and to pronounce it.
They didn't rule the forest... They were exiled... Part of the treaty between Elfkind and humanity.
One of the many reasons the old elf feared men...
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The new elven general walked up to me. "Historian Alten, no other members of the court understand the answer to a question,"
"And it is?"
"Why should I fear humans, they live for such a short amount of time."
I turned to him "The fact that they haven't fallen through the 400 year war wasn't enough?"
"No."
I sighed "Their lives are short, stupid, and savage. I have to emphasize, they are SAVAGE. I have witnessed them eating people ALIVE."
"What?"
"Training is one thing, but pure savagery cannot be overcome by training. And the numbers, have you seen them?"
"Can't say so, Dalia died a few days ago."
"They outnumber us 10:1 in every fight."
"..."
"A HUMAN is trivial, but HUMANS are insane. They are between goblins and elves, and fairies and orcs. No strengths but no weaknesses." What he said hit me "Wait, how did she die?"
"Rabies. They bit her."
"... THE SAVAGERY, NEED I SAY MORE?"
"I don't think so."
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joir79h
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joimtfw
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[WP] The spell of the fae forced you to tell them your name. The fae looks at you with pure horror, while you look at them confused, because that was definitely not your name.
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The subtle hint of pine needles and chocolate wafted from the palm of the forest elf's hand. Crossing the distance in a whirl of distorted light towards my distracted body, as I bent over the log, delimbing the branches for my fire.
"Speak your true name human"
I hadn't been planning this camping vacation, my fiance had broken things off the previous weekend. Well, ex-fiance I suppose she was now? So in the midst of heart ache following a terrible week of moving things into a new apartment and sending terrible poetry about loss and sadness via text. I had decided it would be best to get away, into nature and try to absorb some of the magic that nature had always offered me.
I had a regular spot, along a stream, by an old dilapidated beaver dam, where the mud could be formed into a clay type substance that held shape when formed and I'd built a small cook stove to use the previous summer. But as that favorite spot was tied so drastically to the heart break of camping with my now ex-fiance. I was drawn far further into the mountains than I had ever been before.
Sheltered in a small river valley, a gulley really. I'd found a small waterfall and the noise of the falling water was doing its best to drown the noise from my over thinking mind.
I'd just set up the tent and was getting the fire going, in the process of trimming a small free fallen tree of its limbs when I smelled the scent. I'd played in the ocean sprayed pines as a child, yet hadn't smelt them since moving across the country, ten years before. The chocolate mixed in was the same bakers chocolate my mother had always used in her cookies when I was a child. It was an uncontrolled thing, an unheard question, a need, an almost sexual response as I spoke without conscious thought, hewing away small gray branches from the dead fir tree.
"Cernunnos" I stopped abruptly, my hand axe in mid swing. The scent of pine and chocolate disappeared with the word.
"Cernunnos?" I mouthed silently. "What the fuck am I saying?" I turned my head and took in, for the first time that I was not alone on the small rise above the waterfalls pool.
She stood frozen, her slender frame cloaked in flowing white garments, golden haired with crown of intertwined reddish brown thorn branch, pointed ears and bright purple eyes. As our eyes met she knelt to one knee, her spotless clothing untarnished by the soil. Her head bowed slowly, her eyes downcast in reverence.
Figures began to emerge from behind her, all coming just short of her distance to me and kneeling and bowing in turn. Hundreds, men and women, all in the same flowing white garments. Her golden hair and pointed ears mirrored across the host now arrayed before me.
"Reborn in times of greatest need." The crowned woman seemed to sigh breathlessly.
I stood, axe falling to my side, my face wracked in confusion certainly. Had I just been stumbled upon by a group of larpers?
"Why do you not wear your antlers my Lord?" She said, to the ground, her eyes still focused intently on the moss and dirt beneath her but I understood it was a question directed at me.
"My what?"
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The Lady of Serpents smiled, scales reflecting the soft pink light of her wisps. She had no hair, instead her head spourted an assortment of snake tails, ones that writhed and undulated. Her white robes were made of the cast-off's of her children, the Naga's shed skin.
Her black eyes flashed green, forming an emerald slit in place of a pupil. It caught my attention, making me unable to look away. "Trespasser, give me your name."
Her will was far beyond my own. Even though I tried to fight, it was like holding an umbrella against a tsunami. What strength I had was brushed aside, and my tongue loosened to speak. "It is Nzacrolith."
That... wasn't right. That wasn't my name, I knew that. But why did I say that instead? And why did it sound hauntingly familiar? As my words reached her, the reaction was obvious. Her head pulled away, as if struck by a mighty blow. The smirk fell into a look of horror, staring at my bound form. The tails fell completely still, frozen in place on her scalp.
The Lady's head shook woodenly, self-assured ego now in ruins. "N-no. That can't be. You're supposed to be dead!"
My tongue moved once more, though the words were again not my own. "I was. But you should've know better than to think death could hold me forever."
My arms tensed, fighting against the binding magic. A surge shot out from my chest, filling my limbs with strength. Faint shattering echoed around the rocky clearing, motes of broken energy speading around and fading.
I realised then that it wasn't just my tongue I couldn't control. My entire body was a puppet, one that casually stood. The Lady of Serpents stepped back, her hands dripping with black liquid. The liquid sizzled as it hit the ground, corroding the dirt beneath. "S-stay back!"
I found myself laughing. "Or what, little Fae? It took both Dusk and Dawn courts to hold me back, and even they couldn't deliver the fatal blow. Do you really think your minor tricks can hurt me?"
She turned to run. My arm raised, followed by a deep cracking sound. Moments later her body hit the floor, head twisted around to face me. I had seen death before. But the causal way something had used my body to kill her made my stomach turn. My voice spoke again, this time clearly addressing me. "Thank you for the use of your body, I will now return it to you."
My legs gave out, and I barely caught myself before faceplanting into the ground. I looked around, hoping to see some external reason as to what had happened. But there was nothing. Nothing I could see anyway.
I found myself shivering. I didn't know what was going to happen now. But the thought of being taken over again was terrifying.
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kdqqpbp
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kdpfc4b
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[WP] A benevolent dragon provides rain to the people, and they give the dragon offerings and such for it. A non-local dragonslayer refuses to understand this, and goes after the dragon.
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The foreign dragonslayers said they came in the name of Progress. Liberty. Enlightenment. All the fancy words you could think of, and many more that you've never heard of before.
They said we needed to be "liberated" from the "tyranny" of the dragons. Well may we say that the dragons were "benevolent" and granted us the rains we needed for a great harvest, but could you ever trust a dragon? Why do they always need offerings, if they already hoard more jewels and gold than anyone could imagine?
When the Dragonslaying first began, the progress they made was mercifully slow. The dragons the dragonslayers used to kill in their land were land dwellers, so it was a simple matter of marching up to the caves, or wherever their dragons hid best, and slaying them.
Our dragons, though, lived underwater, and that made slaying them more complicated. In the first decade of Dragonslaying, that was what allowed us to protect our dragons.
However, the dragonslayers got more cunning with every failed slaying. Soon, they had come up with armour that could allow them to breathe underwater. Ships of metal arrived on our shores and "sailed" (for they had no sails) up our rivers to where the dragons lived. When we learned that these ships were supplying air to the underwater dragonslayers through tubes, it was a no-brainer to sabotage those tubes. That bought our dragons some more time.
Alas, while virtue might have risen by a foot, vice would eventually tower over us by ten more with the death wands that the dragonslayers later brought with them. It turned out that the death wand kills all, dragons and their protectors alike. All was lost then.
Half a century after the Dragonslaying began, the last water dragon breathed its last. The foreign dragonslayers celebrated our liberation from tyranny. We were... not as happy. We dreaded to think of what would happen next without our dragons.
For a while, life seemed good. The dragonslayers had assured us that their lives had improved dramatically after they got rid of their dragons. Not only did the freed-up hoards of the dragons made everyone wealthier, but life became more predictable without being subject to the whims of the dragons. Indeed, for a while, it seemed that even the rains became as regular as clockwork.
Until they didn't, and droughts and forest fires ravaged our lands... and theirs.
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His name was Zmej. He was terribly old and inconceivably wise and alas a dreadful cynic. He had seen the rise and fall of fair Poseidonis (crushed under the ice) and the glittering soap bubble cities of Runa melt under the uncaring sun after the great Sun Plague had sent its inhabitants to madness. In the way of dragons, he flew until he could no more, finding a small forested area away from the vagaries of short lived mankind and their terrible forges. And there he slept.
Time passed. Zmej carved the mountain peak in the shape of a beckonng hand, sparkling with precious stones and shining with polished marble. Mankind gathered - at first terrified of the great beast, his eyes aflame, his wings gilded. Then, listening, they feared not. Dragons, after all, lived off of jewels and gold. Eating flesh was an abomination.
Some people came, thinking of gathering a handful of rubies or sapphires. A peculiar wind blew them away. Great warriors, clad in peculiar armor which shone like a hummingbirds wings or beetles’ shells, occasionally offered to rid the town of its beast. The people ignored them until, sighing, they left.
Shoggo was a Barbarian (so he said). Think of him as tall, blonde, with hair that trailed behind him like a veil, a long braided beard, a sword forged from moon metal and armor that seemed to glow.
‘Barbarians vanquish dragons’ he bellowed.
‘Nah’ said the townspeople. ‘You lit up the mountainside a league away. You too can go away.’
The mayor of the town noted slyly, “We recognize you, Mr Barbarian. You came here last year, wanting to ‘gather mineral specimens’. Your armor is tacky. That sword is useless. And please, your posturing is frankly ridiculous. Just go”
The dragon opened one sleepy eye. ‘Give him a rock, he’ll go away. Something no bigger than a hen’s egg. Nothing too ostentatious.’
He went.
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jj46n4g
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jj3txac
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[WP] You're a superhero's sidekick. But he doesn't pay you, so you're also moonlighting as the minion of a supervillain your hero never faces. Until one day, he does.
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I’ve always wanted to be a superhero, and working for a superhero is the next best thing. This guy is the greatest. He’s kind, supportive, and a patient teacher. He appreciates everything I do and is training me to be stronger, faster, and quick to react in emergency situations. It would be the best job ever if it only had benefits… or pay. Unfortunately, being a masked hero/side-kick means you can’t make a living off of it, and I got bills to pay. I’m still young though, I've got the energy for two jobs, and with the skills he’s teaching me it has come in handy for my night job as the minion of an up-and-coming super-villain. Now I’m not one to take bribes, but one night on my way home I caught him in the act of some dastardly deed, and as I was about to haul him in, he made the most surprising of comments.
“You want a job that pays well with health and dental?”
To which I could only answer, “Yes.”
And so there I was, saving people during the day and helping steal from them at night. Perhaps because he wasn’t actually killing people, I could justify what harm he did commit. He was one of those that hid behind a big company title, which was how he could give me such a nice paying deal on the books as a legitimate worker. He had plans for villainous greatness, and I appreciated that like the hero, he too listened to my ideas on how to truly take over this city.
My jobs never crossed each other. The hero already had his nemesis and the everyday crimes to stop, and this villain had set his heinous acts poised right below the hero’s radar due to a few hints from me (I need to keep the income). It was perfect… until today.
I stand here now with the hero perched high giving his speech on the justice he was about to serve up, and the villain readying to set off his own array of weapons and henchmen, and the question is which side do I stand on in this moment. The hero has given me so much training and purpose, but the villain is why I have a nice loft apartment equipped with top of the line everything. To be torn between saving the people from terror or falling prey to the allure of capitalism is my very own nightmare.
As I look at the two men who have treated me greatly, taught me so many things, a mere thought that this could be resolved peacefully melted like a snowflake in the desert as I saw their faces and listened to their words. No, it was up to me to put an end to this.
With that in mind I turned and whispered a few quick words in the ear of my friend, and like that I watched the hero fall in a moment of his greatest weakness. He looked at me with a clear question in his eyes to which I could only shrug and say, “I’ve got bills to pay.”
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Aside from the stealing, blackmail, kidnapping and coffee runs (like really? What supervillain goes out of their way to make SURE to get unethical sourced coffee?) It's the commute that kills me. Having to drive to another city to work as a villain's underling is such a pain. This wouldn't even be an issue if psy-man would just PAY me. But since he works for free, I'm stuck doing the same. But, suit upgrades and cutting edge technology are so expensive!
When I figured out his identity, and realized he could afford to pay me, that's when I started looking for... A side hustle. So off to the job boards I went. The zoom interview went fine when I was told where to meet I cringed. An hour long drive would suck, but at least it paid the bills, had healthcare and even a 401k! When I realized my employer was THE Dr. Lobotomy? I mean sure I may have had a bit of a panic, but knowing Psy-man stayed in coast city, meant they would not cross paths in Neverland Oasis. No big deal, nothing to worry about! But, of course I was too good at my job and Dr. Lobotomy got the upper hand on Silverkid. I can't lie, I felt pretty bad about that.
Dr. Lobotomy was running the oasis and all was fine. And then... Boom! All the other underlings were frozen in place. I turn around and see that ugly blue and purple cape I could never get him to get rid of. Herman- er.... Psy-man looked at me very confused. "Brain-child? Where are you? Your tech isn't working right, someone isn't frozen." He says, tapping the side of that helmet. I flinch as I get the message in my head on a half second delay. *Just. My. Luck.* I think as I turn and run to hid my response. "Um... What do you mean? It should be working I'll be right there." I turn the corner, phase into my suit and teleport to the top of the skylight. Herman looks at me with anger. That's when I remember... His MINDSENSE. He may be cheap, but he's not stupid.
"Well, hell.... Consider this my letter of resignation!" I yell through the skylight before disappearing.
Now to find a new city. I did nab the prototype I made for Dr. Lobotomy of the face scrambler, so I should be able to stay ahead of them. Needless to say, double lives are overrated.
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[WP] "Stay in school, kids!" the superhero proudly prolcaimed. "You don't wanna end up like this guy!" The beaten thug coughed and groaned in pain, "I have a PhD, asshole..."
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“And I dropped out of high school, your point?”
“You… you do realize how contradictory it is for you to advice them to stay in school so that they will not turn out like me, while I have a PhD and you dropped out of high school?”
“W-well, maybe I do want them to turn out like you so I can keep my job!”
“M-Mr. Superhero…?”
“I, I mean! Stay in school, get a degree, get a good job! That’s your ticket to succeeding in life.”
“As well as becoming a corporate slave.”
“Be quiet! You’re not helping! Look kids, I will be honest with you. This whole thing, I’m endorsed to do it. Life sucks as an adult, all those bills to pay, all those people who expects something from you but never ask whether it will be too much for you. I gotta keep this job as much as everyone else, and if it takes indoctrinating children with society’s values while wearing a spandex bodysuit to do it? Then so be it. Now, I’m gonna ask this poor guy here to shoot you with his memory-erasing gun-“ “That sounds so lame-” “and you will be good kids and go back to your mamas and papas while I turn this guy to the police so he can break out again and we will continue this another day. Sounds good?”
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"And what did you do with it?" The Hero replied smoothly. "You could have been rich. And yet, because apparently you didn't stay long enough here, in a simple school you're make a mistake a child could have made! I mean seriously this is part of why we start at kindergarten." He shook his head.
"Remember kids, even if you're a super genius, you could probably just patent the super tech you use. you could cure cancer, you can do ANYTHING with the right mindset. That's what Heroes do. Villains like him wanted to kill billions of people because he was too stupid to think his weather-creating machine could have fed trillions across the galaxy! If you have great gifts, temper them with wisdom."
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[WP] "Listen, you're fine, I'm- stop screaming- I'm not going to hurt you. Yes, opening the Dark Book summons The One Who Ends, but that whole thing where I kill the reader is hogwash. Now, would you kindly direct me to the one who tricked you into opening my book? *Intent* is important, after all."
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"It... it... was the librarian!" Tomar tried to yell, the words sounding meek coming from his eight-year-old mouth.
"Ahhh. Of course. Mr. Peddleston. Would you go and fetch him for me, if you would be so kind?'
Tomar turned to comply, but the librarian was already there. He cut a formidable figure, standing at over six feet, with a flowing gray beard and a great staff which he used for walking in his hands.
"Really, a child, Dark One?" the librarian asked, a grimace on his face. "This must be a mistake, for I sent the boy for a copy of *Adventures in Nettlewood Vines, Volume VI."*
Rising in a cloud, the dark one floated over to the tome sitting in the boy's hands. "Reveal the cover," he commanded.
The boy closed the book, revealing *The Book of Darkness* on the front with a skull underneath it.
"Boy!" the librarian said, grabbing the tome. He went to re-shelve it but paused. "Hmm, this is where the *Adventures in Nettlewood Vines, Volume VI* should be, right between V and VII. Something is amiss."
Tomar looked down sheepishly, kicking himself for not looking more carefully at the book before opening it.
"Feel not bad, boy, for there is truly something foul afoot," the librarian pointed to the spine of *The Book of Darkness*, which had *Adventures in Nettlewood Vines, Volume VI* scribbled over the original title. "Dark Lord, someone tricked us."
The dark cloud shifted in the air. "No, librarian. Someone tricked the boy, and who could it be but you?"
"Any of our visitors could've done this," the librarian said. "You've got no case to stand on."
"False!" the Dark Lord let out a laugh. "That book is in the *restricted* section. There is only one key, and you have it. Therefore, it must've been you that tricked the boy."
"You can't prove it! And besides, why would I have the motive to trick a boy into opening one of the horrid volumes in existence?"
"I couldn't possibly fathom why, but the law is clear. I am The One Who Ends, and the law states that I must kill the reader. Intent matters and you caused this. Therefore, you must pay the price."
"Wait!" Tomar screamed, a dawn of realization creasing his face.
The librarian and the Dark One turned to him expectantly.
"The writing on the spine. I've only been coming to the library for a year, but I've never seen a pen or ink anywhere here that could do writing that like that."
"The boy has a point!" the librarian said. "There is no such pen within this library." He bent down to examine it, pulling a magnifying lens from his robe. "In fact, this ink did not originate from a physical pen at all. It's magical!"
"Hogwash!" the Dark Lord boomed. Lightning bolts began to angrily cascade through his form.
"In fact, there really is only one with a motive to do this," the librarian continued. "You. You're the one who's trapped in my restricted section. You must've found a way out, and now wish to kill me. To be free?"
"That's utterly despicable!"
"If that's true," Tomar said, "then you're really the one that tricked me into opening this book."
"Another great point from the boy!" a smile creased the librarian's face. "You know what you must do now, right?"
"But that law... that law.. doesn't apply."
"Oh it very well does," the librarian said.
The cloud went \*poof\*
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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<Fantasy>
# Soulmage
**"I... was under the impression that you were all-knowing,"** Galena hesitantly said, staring up at the towering mechanical abomination. It didn't exactly have eyes to make contact with, so Galena tried to focus on the center of its impossible clockwork body.
"A COMMON MISCONCEPTION," the... thing... ground out. "I KNOW MANY THINGS ABOUT THE STRUCTURE OF YOUR UNIVERSE. THE DETAILS OF ITS INHABITANTS ARE LARGELY DIFFICULT FOR ME TO DISCERN."
"I, uh..." Galena frowned. Knows a lot about the science and mathematics of the world? Poor knowledge of what other people did in their spare time? And summoned by books, to boot? "...You wouldn't happen to be a fan of learning, would you? A sort of, uh, teacher's pet?"
"I DO INDEED HAVE A PENCHANT FOR KNOWLEDGE, AND THOSE WHOSE TRADE IT IS TO TRANSMIT IT." The eldritch clockwork ticked and hummed. "DOES THIS RELATE TO MY QUERY OF WHO SENT YOU ON MY PATH?"
"It was—a group of people, actually." Galena hunched over. "The rest of my class. They don't like me much because I'm a bit of a nerd. Maybe... maybe a little like you?"
The mechanical monstrosity creaked curiously. "I AM UNFAMILIAR WITH THIS WORD IN THE CONTEXT IN WHICH YOU USE IT."
Galena couldn't help it. She stifled a laugh. "Anyone who can say that with a straight face is a nerd, alright."
She couldn't help but feel that the ticking-thing was silently amused, even as its screeching voice never changed. "PERHAPS YOU WOULD BE WILLING TO SHARE THIS TRUTH WITH ME?"
Galena sat down cross-legged. "Yeah! A nerd is someone who really likes something that involves a lot of thinking, usually something that other people don't like. Something that they... might not make a lot of friends because of. Something that might make Kalen try and send you off to open a forbidden book just to get rid of you."
The entity fell silent.
"KALEN," it finally said. "SO THAT IS WHO SENT YOU ON THIS PATH?"
Galena blinked. "...Yeah, I guess so. Why do you ask?"
"TO ENSURE THAT HE DOES NOT REPEAT THIS FEAT OF IDIOCY, EVER AGAIN." The entity shifted, body restructuring into something bipedal and primitive, and proffered its back to Galena. "WOULD YOU LIKE TO ASSIST ME IN EDUCATING THIS KALEN AS TO WHY USING EXTRADIMENSIONAL ENTITIES AS AN ATTEMPT TO RESOLVE CLASSROOM FEUDS IS AN UNWISE IDEA?"
And Galena's smile burned fiercely on her face as she clambered onto the mechanical beast.
"I'd like nothing more."
A.N.
This isn't canon to Soulmage, but I had the idea and it put a smile on my face. If you want to see some stories in the same universe, check out the rest of the series [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/), or r/bubblewriters for more.
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[WP] You used to be the scourge of kingdoms, the reaper of heroes and the mere mention of your name scared even the toughest of them. But today no one remembers you and you are fine with that. You have lived in peace ever since until one day a stranger approaches you and calls you by your true name.
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[A year back I posted a similar [story ](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/s2wvb8/wp_when_the_humans_elf_girlfriend_broke_up_with/hsi5ifh?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=2) I'll try to change it up a bit this time]
*
Do you know what a scourge is? People may call him a reaper, people may call him death. But you know what most people really mean is a killer.
That is what he was, a killer.
He forgot what he was called for reaping the soul of heroes became his identity.
He forgot where his family was for the only addresses he remembered were of the souls he collected.
The only thing that remained was scourge. And that is what he was called.
Scourge.
*
Scourge saw the way curtains fluttered shut when he walked through a neighborhood. As if a mere curtain could save them from him.
Mortals and their irrational beliefs. He was one of them once. As naive and as foolish. He also used to see the ones who brought an end to heroes as monsters.
But now? Now the words he had read far back spoke to him through a veil,
*If you crush a cockroach, you're a hero. If you crush a beautiful butterfly, you're a villain. Morals have aesthetic criteria.*
He smiled. He didn't care about being a hero or villain. He just wanted to crush those who deserved it, and that included the self-righteous heroes too.
And morals? Morals belonged to those who did nothing else but preach. It is easy to hide behind the curtain of morals when you have a house to hang the curtains in.
"Matt? Matt Kline?" Someone called.
A name long forgotten. A memory long buried. And yet- and yet something inside him stirs at the sound of the name. Maybe it was the innocence that was lost or maybe it was the weakness that was conquered.
He turned to seek out the source of the voice. The one brave enough to speak with Scourge.
But the voice isn't calling for scourge, it's calling for a long lost memory, a voice inside him said.
A girl no older than 15 years is standing with her hands clenched around the straps of the backpack.
"I don't think you know who you are speaking to." He said gruffly. His voice was seldom used nowadays, in fact mostly it was used to taunt the heroes before he killed them.
"Yes, I do." She raised her chin defiantly, a gesture reminding her of a girl he knew a lifetime ago. "I have pictures of you."
He tilted his head, willing his memory to bring that hazy memory back to focus. But nothing. Nothing except a cheerful laugh that echoes in the darkness of what used to be his memories.
"Who are you?" He asked.
"May. May Rogers." She answered without any hint of fear.
Yet again that laugh rises up inside him, a sweet bubbling sound. A bright light in the darkness inside him.
And for the first time in years, he felt his heart pounding.
"Go away." He said turning his back to the girl.
"No." She said.
She sounded closer. She soon drew up beside him.
"What do you want?" He would have preferred to face a well-intentioned hero instead of this girl. Her mere presence was raising memories he had buried a lifetime ago.
"I want you to come back home!" She said with a finality that he smiled.
Home. He had forgotten what that word felt like even in his mind. He dared not to speak it because he knew he would lose some part of him now while chasing for something he lost long ago.
"You have the wrong man." He said not looking at her. Looking at her hurt for some reason.
"No. You are Matt Kline. You were born to Glen and Ellen Kline. You have a sister Grace Kline. Your parents died-"
"Enough!" He said harshly.
The smiling faces of four strangers flashed in his mind. He pushed the image aside then glanced at the girl who looked chastised. And he felt an emotion he hadn't felt in decades. Guilt.
"I am not who you think I am." Not anymore.
"But you are." She said firmly, her fight renewing at his, not kinder but neutral tone. "You are my Granduncle! My Grandma is Grace Kline!"
Gracie. A memory of a girl in pigtails smiling. A girl he thought he lost that day when the heroes were saving the world.
"She misses you. I know she does. She has your picture and tells us about you. How you were the best brother in the world-"
"Don't." His voice was oddly choked.
The memories were trying to suffocate him. It was getting harder to breathe.
She placed a hand on his elbow, making him jump. "Come home. She is sick. She wants to see you."
Could he? Could he go back and watch his sister die again?
No, but he could watch his sister live.
Unlike the last time.
"Come home." She repeated softly.
"Okay."
*
[You can find more of my stories at r/iknowthisischeesy]
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##Human Nature
The old woman hobbled to the chess board in the middle of the park. The other tables were occupied with games, and she decided to wait. Eventually, someone would come, and they would grant her a game.
A confident young man walked towards her. She knew his type well. He thought she was merely a warm-up, an easy victory. He would be startled by her skill and grow to doubt his own knowledge. When the old woman won, his would walk away thinking it was a fluke.
"Hello Duena." The man sat down. Duena leaned back in her chair careful to avoid showing her surprise. She tilted her head at the man trying to figure out who he was.
"Have we met before?" She attempted to keep her guise as a sweet old woman.
"A long time ago. You may call me Liam. Is it alright if I go first? You historically came much later," he said.
"Did we meet at the grocery store two weeks ago?" Duena asked as she made her own move.
"We met at the market a long time ago. Rather, I saw you at the market. That was when few saw your face, goddess of destruction," Liam said.
"I never understood why I was singled out as a terror. The other death gods never acquired my reputation."
"Few enjoyed it as much as you."
"I never enjoyed it." Duena raised a hand and knocked over the king by accident. "The philosophers wrote me as gleeful, but I was merely fulfilling a role. You kill one person, and you are somber. I destroy civilizations, and I'm a raging monster."
"During the flood, I heard you laugh," Liam replied.
"Which flood? There have been so many?" Duena asked. The rain fell around them. "Ah, a touch dramatic are we?"
"You don't live as long as I do without fantasizing about revenge," Liam said.
"I suppose that's true. Many have tried to stop me, but they cannot. Let's keep playing," Duena said. Their game continued while everyone else went home. Duena was surprised to find herself losing. She attempted to sense the man's true nature.
"The other gods hated me for destroying their worshippers," Duena said.
"So I've heard."
"You never interacted with them?"
"Indirectly." Liam put her in check. Duena moved out and found her path to victory limited.
"You mentioned a flood. How long ago was this?" Duena said.
"Perhaps it was your first disaster. I'm not sure. Either way, my true language is unrecognizable to humans," Liam said.
"That's not difficult. They forget how they spoke two hundred years ago."
"You hate humans don't you," Liam asked. He moved his bishop. Duena stared at the board. She was three moves from checkmate, and there was no avoiding it.
"No, I don't. I told you that I'm necessary."
"I suppose you were necessary to create me."
"And what are you?"
"You were a war goddess, our war goddess until you realized the destructive force of nature. You harnessed it's power to destroy everything in your path. On your first flood, I was the only survivor. It was a sad and lonely life, but I pressed onward. I taught the rest of humanity to live and thrive. I went nameless though; I didn't brag like you." Liam moved his rook.
"I never bragged. If I bragged, would they forget who I was?"
"That was my doing. They turned me into a deity. I draw my strength their persistence. I suppose I should thank you. Every tragedy that you create adds to my power." Liam moved the queen. "Check mate."
Duena tossed the board off the table. "Why have you come here? Why not wait until later then?"
"Because I love the humans unlike you, I know your next plan. You've grown bored and want to move on. You will fail, but your disaster is to great that I cannot allow you to do so," Liam said.
"My plans have already been set into motion," Duena said.
"You didn't take into account for that." Liam pointed at the chains surrounding her.
"No one has achieved such a spell on me. Are you going to kill me?" Duena asked.
"You're too powerful, and you're correct. You are necessary." Liam stood up. "You're just trapped until I clean up your mess. Enjoy watching yourself fail." Duena spat at his feet.
"I never fail because the humans always fail."
"That's where you're wrong. The humans frequently fail, but they find ways to succeed." Liam walked away from the old woman.
---
r/AstroRideWrites
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[WP] You realized your house is "haunted" by a poltergeist, but upon closer observation the ghost is actually helping you out with your day-to-day house chores
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Danielle stood over the grave of his son as the rain poured down, one thought looping through her mind.
*God this is such a cliche.*
A horrible thought to have when she could have been remembering all the times she'd had with her son.
But to be fair, it really was a cliche. The pouring rain and clouded sky mirroring hir grief. The solitary figure alone over the interred body of her son. Heck, it was even late fall so all the trees were barren of leaves. She contemplated stopping the rain, but everyone with sufficient power to control the weather was currently out of range, and there *was* something almost soothing of having the very weather reflect how you felt inside.
*How did it all turn into a cliche?* Danielle wasn't even sure how long she'd been standing there, let alone how many times she'd asked himself that same question. *I've spent my entire life avoiding the cliche. Changing the story, making the unexpected happen. Well, you didn't expect this, did you?*
"Hello Danielle."
Danielle glanced over her shoulder, saying nothing. Even if she wouldn't have recognized that voice anywhere, David had sensed him approaching from miles away, a warm little glow in the back of her mind, and they both knew it. The handsome man with a bodybuilder's physique was only a few paces away, sheltering under an umbrella in a formal black suit.
"I'm so sorry for you loss."
Danielle remained silent, turning back to her son's headstone.
"It wasn't supposed to happen the way it did." The visitor tried again, the barest hint of strain entering a voice that normally held nothing but pure confidence. "You know how kids are, especially ones with real power. It goes to their head. They get reckless, egg each other on, make mistakes. And... and I can tell you that they're really torn up about this. They're having a hard time accepting wha-"
"So that wasn't them celebrating their big win a few nights back, partying the night away? Toasting the highlights of their 'epic battle'? Did their mentors even scold them once they knew, or hand wave it away as the cost of raising the next generation of 'heroes'?" Danielle interrupted, looking over her shoulder again. "When was the last time you tried to lie straight to my face? It's been years, at the least."
The man said nothing.
"Well answer me this. Are you as Triumph, or is it just Terry today?" Danielle asked. "I would genuinely like to know."
"I don't know," He shrugged. "What would help you more right now, Dani?"
"I don't know either." Danielle looked back at the gravestone, one last time. *Wow, you are just full of cliches today, aren't you?*
"I'll tell you this though." Danielle finally turned away from her precious child's resting place, giving her friend and career-long nemesis her full attention. "I'm a little surprised you came alone. My best guess was that you'd have brought half the League for an ambush. You know I'm not just going to let this slide, so you would have tried to nip it in the bud."
"You know me so well." Triumph smiled sadly. "I actually did try to do that, but, well..."
"But no one believes the Prankster is actually a threat. After all, she's just a joke. A clown who pops over inflated egos and isn't worth the effort of catching. No one ever really gets hurt fighting her. No one innocent ever dies. I bet they laughed when you tried to tell them."
"I know you're strong, Dani, stronger than you ever let on. Stronger than most of the League." The warm glow in the back of her mind brightened, as Triumph gathered his power. "But so am I. You've never seen me go all out before, and I'm sorry today you-"
Dani reached out and took the warm glow away. She didn't flex or quip or move at all. One moment, Triumph was indestructible and strong to level a building with one blow, mentally preparing himself, and the next, it all belonged to Dani, and Triumph was left impotent. She'd always been able to feel the powers of the supers and villains around her, instinctively known she could just reach out and take them.
But honestly, where was the fun in that? It had always seemed to boring, to just take it all. The fun had been in taking little slices, and then still pulling off the joke. So little no one ever noticed it was gone.
Danielle wasn't really in the mood for *fun* anymore.
"How..." Terry was kneeling on the ground, arms shaking. It seemed like there were some side effects to having the entirety of one's superpowers ripped away. He looked up at her, and for the first time in their long rivalry, Danielle saw real fear etched into him. "No, that doesn't matter. What are you going to do?"
Danielle looked down at her hand and *squeezed* it into a fist, felt the inhuman strength pulsing through her. She could have cracked a diamond with the power she'd just exerted. It would be the work of minutes to fly through the air, smash into the tower of those arrogant little children and make them regret every choice they had ever made to bring them to this point. She wouldn't even need to use Triumph's power to do it, she could just take theirs away as well, and the powers of anyone who tried to stop her. On and on, until there was no one left but her.
A supervillain seizing power and swearing revenge on an unjust world, using any and all means to reshape it into whatever they desired. Heroic last stands and brave speeches to rally anyone and everyone to stop the madwoman. Just like everyone expected. Just like how the story always went.
She didn't want to do that. She wanted a different story. Something people wouldn't expect. Something that might actually change the stories that were told.
"God, even now, I can't help but hate cliches." Danielle murmured to herself.
And then she let the power go, the warm glow rushing back to its original owner.
"I'll tell you what I'm going to do." Danielle said as Triumph rose back to his feet. "I'm going to walk over to my car and go home. I'm going to cook my meals and talk with a few friends as they try to console me, and I'm going to mourn my child. I'm going to spend the entire day ignoring everything else in the world, just me and my memories, and then I'm going to go to sleep. The real question is what are *you* going to do?"
<Continued in Comments>
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Weasel #35 waddles into the room just as I finish my cotton candy.
"My lord, my jester I mean... I have news about your son."
I sit up in my chair. "Yes, today marks his first villain anniversary, right? Thank you, 35, I had forgotten." I open my chair to enter my son's house across the world, but a paw on my shoulder stops me.
35 looks absolutely terrified as I turn my head. "Sir, you won't be able to find your son there."
I sigh in relief. "Oh thank goodness. 35, you had me convinced something has happened to my son. He must be out doing his 'real villain' stuff right now, I'll pop in later."
I close the chair and sit back down, but 35 still holds his expression. "well..." he squeaks out at last. "Something has happened to your son. You see... the Junior league killed him."
Fury shoots up like a Jack-in-the-box inside of me. "The juniors KILLED HIM?!" my mind is wobbling like a slinky. The Junior League never kill! Even against Jack Jr., they shouldn't have resorted to that! I know us Chesters are hard to pin down, but this? I slam the chair open again. This time it opens to the hideout of the Juniors. 35 protests weakly, but I cut him off by closing the wall I just stepped out of.
Silently, I stalk towards the main room of the hideout. I've been here many times, mostly to set up pie-in-the-face traps, so I know the way through the annoyingly dusty halls of the Junior League HQ. I only get a few steps towards the first corner when a very shiny person walks by.
The star of the Heroic World, Light Muscleboy, stands before me. For a guy so easy to spook, he looks fearless as he stares me down. Muscleboy holds up a hand. "Listen, Jack. It was an accident. There is no need to do what you are about to do."
"An accident?" I spit, taking a step closer. "The death of my son was an accident? That excuse holds up as well as your relationships, Light, and you know it."
I take another step. The Shining Knight seems to falter slightly. Expected, but still a little disappointed. "Jack, they do not know your powers. They expect you to, I don't know, put weasels in their bed, or gum in their hair. They don't know, Jack!" Muscleboy's voice shakes a little on the last sentence.
I'm so close I can smell his disgustingly minty breath. "Listen to me, Light." I poke his chestplate and slinky starts to wrap around him. "You know what \*I\* didn't expect? I didn't expect to lose my ONLY SON TODAY!"
The slinky has rendered the Knight immobile except for tremors of fear. "They are someone's sons too. Please."
I tap his chest again and he falls over. "Then those parents will be in for a..." I giggle as the thought comes to me. "\*Surprise.\*"
I turn and open the wall, walking straight into the main room. Five kids stand before me, and all have defiant eyes as they turn to look me in the face. A blonde kid points at me. "Jack Chester, you die here." A threat of death? They must have changed their no kill policy. I shrug off the thought, I'll deal with it later. Right now all that matters is this moment.
I glance at each of them, looking down at them through my nose. "Alright, pipe up. Who killed my son?" as soon as I finish asking the question, I start the timer in my head. \*All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel.\*
Everyone looks at some short kid on a couch by himself. He's clad in blue, hood concealing his face. He lazily raises a hand. \*the monkey paused to pull up his sock.\* "Yeah." The kid says in an infuriatingly uninterested tone. "It was me."
Behind my back, I point a gun at the wall behind me. "Let this be a lesson to you kids." The blue hero makes a choking sound and slumps over, a piece of candy corn portruding from the back of his head. \*POP! goes the weasel.\*
The 4 remaining supers step back from me. One rushes over to the blue kid, seemingly ignoring that I dropped through the floor onto the couch. His hands glow green, but when nothing happens he looks frantically to the others. "I can't heal him!"
A healer, eh? I laugh, the sound drawing the teens' eyes. "So you can only heal people? That means you had nothing to do with my son's death." The kid stares at me. "Right?" I growl. He frantically nods, scooting ever so slightly away from me.
I clasp my hands like I'm closing a deal. "Sweet. You can live to tell the Hero Council about what's about to happen." I stand and open all the walls, turning the room into an infinite void.
All furniture disappears, leaving just me, the remaining 4 heroes, and the corpse of the blue one. The blonde kid adjusts fast, slinging some sort of golden cord at me. I'm instantly behind him though, sticking a piece of gum to his chin. I teleport again, yanking on the gum. His neck snaps and he stops moving. The healer screams, a shrill sound not unlike a rusty crank on a wind up toy. A kid in all red twists his body to look at his mate, then the healer, then me. "Where are we? What do we do?" He asks frantically.
I straighten my polka dotted tie. "You can't do anything. I can teleport through walls, and I have made this whole room my infinite wall. This is my masterpiece. This is Jack's box.
I gum the kid like i did the blondie but he doesnt die when i yank his neck. Oh boy, he's like taffy! I manipulate the room so that I am on both sides of him, and pull him until he becomes as thin as licorice. I take the boy-cord and use it to strangle the last one, who has been frozen this entire time. I knot the cord and bring the room back to normal.
The healer is crying now, bawling his face off. I kneel down in front of him, my rage fading. "Go tell the council now, boy. And make sure my son's funeral is on every channel."
I teleport back to my chair, where 35 is still nibbling his claws. He hands me a cotton candy, but my tears ruin the whole thing.
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[WP] Tell me how you discovered that you were a shapeshifter.
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“Me? I’m actually influential?”
“Yep. If you come with us, we can bring you to the future. See what’s changed. If you stop in your life now, you’ll be a minor celebrity. It’s only in the next few years things get… bad.”
“Geez. That doesn’t sound good.”
“Y-yeah. That’s kind of what I just said. Look man, we only had the juice to get here and back. This is our only shot. Like half of our group wanted to just kill you to be sure, but I figured that just time-hopping you would be enough.”
“Cool, cool. And you’re sure that it’s me you want?”
“For the thousandth time, yes. The tracker-bot traced you as the source. They’re never wrong.”
“Fair enough. Well, I for one am looking forward to seeing the future. This button?”
“…It’s the same. Everything is still the same? What… why… The bot! It said it was you! 100% genetic match! What the hell is this?”
“Oh, huh. I guess you probably wanted my twin, then. The successful scientist? Was kind of surprised that a gas station attendant was gonna be important. Didn’t you figure?”
“Records don’t show you having a twin. There’s just supposed to be one of you.”
“What records did you check? ‘Cause, like, there’s only one of him now that I’m gone.”
“…Ah, fuck.”
|
They took Sammy.
One day, I just turned around, and they took away my brother.
We were just kids from a devastated town from the lab facility that already shut down and moved on. We just wanted to live our life.
Mom was infected from the lab experiment and died. Simon took care of us for a while, and he left us at the foster care.
Simon said we were too strange, the children that he bore. The kids who needed him.
But we persevere.
Sammy was my slice of sunlight. My sunshine. My treasure. He held me as I sobbed when Mom was dead, rotting as she left her ragged breath. We wept together when Simon drove us from the charred skeleton of our home into the sharp and cold arm of the foster system.
Sammy and I, we watched out for each other.
Surprisingly we turned 18.
I didn't tell Sammy where the money for his college came from. Not even when he pressed me, begged me, threatened not to go. But he finally relented. I knew he needed that degree to have a good life, a normal life.
Never mind me. I was just like Simon said. I was the bad one.
Sammy had a life. A good girl. They even got a dog. Sammy got it good.
And then. They. Took. Him.
Gone. There was no trace. He was just gone. I ran the underground system. I plowed over some mobs. Gangs. Searching for him. They blood was shed in vain. I could not find Sammy.
Sammy.
Whoever took Sammy must pay. I will turn every stone. I will burn every blade of grass. I will turn this world upside down. I will kill every living soul to get to him.
Wait for me.
Sammy.
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[WP] Everyone knows a supernatural high schooler needs a silly normal sidekick to go on adventures with them. But as the only “normal” kid in a school full of superheroes, wizards, vampires, etc. you’ve finally had enough being everyone’s comic relief.
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When Andy made the deal with the devil this isn’t what he thought it would be. Sure he needed to go to a new school. He really just wanted to get away from it all. The whole normal high school drama annoyed him. Little did he know selling his soul to go to a different school meant he’d be going to a supernatural school. It was bullshit!
Andy had only been there a month. He was beyond exhausted from being dragged all over the place. From the swim team teaching him how to stay underwater longer to the werewolves making him watch their clothing while they transformed. It was all stupid little things they’d ask him to do since he was just simply a human. He barely had time for his school work, his grades were slipping and the headmistress was rather disappointed in him.
“When Lucifer said he was sending a human, I truly thought it would be a remarkably smart one.”
“Ha!” Andy shook his head. “I’m just a basic everyday human. I wanted away from high school drama but now everyone wants to be my friend. Headmistress, do you know how many creatures have sworn to protect me?”
“I do not, no. Andy, your grades do need to improve.”
“Well I apologize for failing the dark arts when I don’t know how to summon a demon!”
“You summoned Lucifer, did you not?”
“No! I made a deal with him when no one else was listening to me. Apparently he was listening.”
“Andy, I think you should take more time to study.”
“I can’t when I can literally be scooped up by any of the other students.” Andy was about average height and weight for a human his age but that sadly happened to mean he was easy to be picked up.
“Have you considered changing?”
“You want me to change? I really don’t see myself as a vampire or werewolf. The merfolk are kind of interested in making me one of them. I don’t think I’d be a good supernatural. Why can’t I just be left alone? That’s all I wanted. I didn’t want drama or friends.”
“Andy, perhaps you are missing the point that Lucifer is trying to make clear.”
“And what would that be, headmistress?”
“That isolating oneself is not the best idea. Though I do think the point is that you should learn to have boundaries.”
“Boundaries with monsters who are obsessed with a squishy human?”
“Okay, the other students always ask you for favors right?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you ask one of the young magic users to put a locking spell on your room's door?”
“I suppose that could work.”
“Now make sure that it is a temporary locking spell. Something that only locks for a few hours at a time.”
“I will. Thank you, Headmistress. I won’t let you down. I really want to do well here. Even if I probably won’t be using much of what I learned…”
“Oh you’ll be surprised what you’ll learn from here to use in your world.”
Andy shook his head softly. Still a bit confused as to why he needed to learn everything the magic users did. Though he was happy he wasn’t thrown into any of the other more hardcore classes. Sometimes Andy wondered if he could even go back home. Not that he really wanted to but he knew once he graduated he would have to go back to the human world, unless he changed.
“Well thank you again, Headmistress. I’ll be on my way.”
“Of course, I want what’s best for all my students. Now off you go. You will be back in my office if you do not have your homework turned in by tomorrow.”
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I never understood why my mother sent me here. I’ve always been a normal kid aside from my affinity for watching fires. Watching flames dance on the logs of a campfire and seeing the shapes they can form across the embers. But why was I sent here? The School of Supernatural never seemed to fit me. Full of vampires, pyros-those who could actually use fire magic-, and superhero children, someone who enjoys fire shapes shouldn’t be allowed. At least I thought. One day, as I was hanging out with a group of pyros, one of them started joking with me.
“You know, for a normie you sure like the dangerous group. I’m surprised you’re not with the cat girls. They also are nothing special,” said Hannah, the one pyro that hated me the most. Damien slapped her arm.
“Hannah, don’t talk about Embra like that, she has every right to be hanging out with us as anyone does. The ‘cat girls’ as you call them, are shapeshifters, and they are way less welcoming than we are,” he said. He soon turned to me, placing a hand on my thigh. The warmth of his palm making me turn away from him. “Don’t listen to her Embra, we love hanging out with someone that also sees the beauty in fire.”
I pulled away from him. “She’s right. I’m nothing special. I just like watching fire, you guys can create it!” I stood up and rushed away from the group as I felt my face grow hot from embarrassment.
“Embra!” I heard him shout after me but I didn’t stop. I kept running, far off campus. I finally stopped at the lake with the burning trees. It was my safe haven. The pyro teacher had set the trees to constantly burn. It was a place for pyros to rest, relax and practice their magic. I sat down by the lake as I felt the tears fall down my face. *Hannah’s right. I’m nothing special.* I closed my eyes and laid down in the grass, letting the heat of the burning trees warm my face. I heard footsteps approach and I sat up, ignoring whoever was coming. I put my hood up and ignored the figure as they sat next to me. I knew who it was. Damien. He knew that I came here when I was upset, I told him about it months ago. I ignored him and watched the water. Damien watched the water with me, obviously waiting for me to talk first. I sighed and turned to face him. His warm brown eyes meg my gaze, illuminated by the fire to look almost red. I saw numerous emotions cross his face; anger, pity, sadness. I sighed again.
“I’m sorry I ran off. I just can’t stand Hannah’s constant-“ he cut me off.
“Stop. I know you can’t stand Hannah, none of us can. She thinks that because her father is the PyroTribe leader that she has a right to decide who can be in the pyro club. She doesn’t. I’m the one who started the club initially, and I didn’t want some prissy Princess trying to decide it’s her club. I’m kicking her out tonight. I’d like you to attend the meeting this time. Please?” He smiled at me. Damien always had my interests at heart. It helps that we’ve known each other for years. I smiled back and hugged him.
“Thank you. You always know what to say,” I told him. He pulled away and waved his hand, creating a little flame. He gestured for me to hold my hand out.
“Here. I promise it won’t burn you, take it.” He handed me the little flame and I giggled. The flame danced in my hands, seeming to grow larger. I didn’t think much of it before Damien gasped. “Embra it’s growing in your hands. Are you sure you’re not a pyro??” My jaw dropped as I looked up at him.
“You mean you’re not making it grow?” He shook his head.
“No I’m not, you are. I half expected it to fizzle out honestly, this spell usually blinks out when I hand it to a normie. Tomorrow Embra, come with me to Pyro class, I’m sure the teacher would be thrilled to have a new member.”
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[WP] Out of all the superpowers out there, you consider yours the most sadistic; you can save any number of innocent people from death in the face of danger, but to gain that ability, you must kill an innocent person. Named after the infamous moral thought experiment, you are... Trolley Man.
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*"Ooooh I am going to regret this on the cold mornings"*
I mused quietly, desperately trying to rub some life into my shoulder; that landing was just too damn hard. His shadow fell over me, and I knew before even looking up that he would be gloating. Way too many wannabe villains these days taking thier cues from Pro-Wrestling.
*"Not gonna showboat? Come on, you got me down; you gotta make a scene of it now tough-guy; its your moment"*
I uttered through gritted teeth, desperately trying to buy some more time, precious seconds to gulp down some air and keep the blood flowing. I went into this fight cold, a part of that whole Not-Wanting-To-Sacrifice-An-Innocent thing I have now.
The Ghetto Blaster laughed, not with any genuine humour; more like someone reading a script that simply says "laugh now".
*"Awww not going to kill someone to beat me? Yeah I know who you are Trolley-Man! Just as well..."*
I held my tongue, he was monologuing! Good!
He turned around, a slow rotation with his arms raised in imminent victory.
*"You would need to take out a whole Busload of people to be strong enough to defeat ME!"*
There she was, standing off to the side watching wide-eyed; Blaster's 10 year old daughter Elaine...
*"I don't need that"*
I said just loud enough for him to register.
*"I only need HER...!"*
I rolled away from him, springing up to my feet immediately and sprinting to the edge of the rooftop where Elaine was standing, gripping her collar firmly and suspending her over the edge.
*"NO DON'T... WAIIIIIT!!!"*
Blaster's cry lost its' villainous edge, veering straight into protective father mode; too bad he didnt have that whenever he levelled an entire project and the families inside.
*"Okay Blaster, you surrender right now... The cops are waiting with suppression cuffs. You give up and I dont kill Elaine and then you. How about it?"*
To my relief, he saw sense and gave in, I held her there until the authorities had him neutralised and secured. It was as I brought her back that I finally looked back at her, seeing the absolute hatred burning in the pit of her soul. In that glance I saw her future, her gaining her own powers and yes; rising to become an S-Tier Supervillian.
I set her down on the ground without a word; wether an innocent or someone's innocence...
The sacrifice was still made...
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[NSFW] *Inspired by American Psycho*
I am something of a normal guy. When I wake up in the morning, I have an erection that presses into my memory foam mattress in a very satisfying way, and it is not so much that I do not want to get out of bed, but that I want to be inside it, thrusting my hips until the heat is too much to bear and the frustration gets me up and into the shower. On days I don’t wash my hair or shave my face, I like to use the coldest water I can. It’s better for the skin. Or so I’ve read.
The most important part of my day comes next.
I like to air dry so I put on my slippers and go to my study where three of the four walls are coated in chalkboard paint. This is where I keep tally of the innocent people I’ve killed, and I hope to fill the second wall by the end of the year so that the open space isn’t uneven anymore. Another fifteen today should complete the rest of the last line. Three or four lines after that will complete the wall. I just need to make sure I write evenly so that I don’t have to erase any again. The third wall is blank and on it I used to have the number of innocent people I’ve saved with the innocent lives I’ve taken. But is anyone truly innocent? Is anyone worth saving? Just because I can point my finger at a random stranger walking down the street, or through the slits of a curtain at a stranger washing dishes and claim their lives, doesn’t mean they are innocent. The fact that they die might very well be because at that moment, they weren’t dangerous. Who’s to say it isn’t the same for those I save? I can’t tell you when it was I stopped saving people with the lives I take, but I have made a game of trying to claim more *innocent* lives at the most inopportune times, or when the irony of their death steps ever so gingerly into the realm of comedy.
“See a penny pick it up, all day long you have good luck!” And then they’re facedown in the concrete, their loved ones going from giggles to screams as the blood flows. I put my phone in airplane mode in times like these, and they never even notice when I give them the phone to call an ambulance. All they know is that the call isn’t going through. This one time, I even waited until the ambulance came speeding down the street and I claimed the life of the driver, sending the wailing ambulance into the crowd of onlookers and police cars.
When it rains, it pours.
Speaking of, I’m dry. I have a collection of colognes because I believe the scent you give off adds to the aesthetic of your outfit, adding weight to your presence wherever you may go. The second most important part of my day is choosing my outfit for this very reason.
.
.
.
WiltySpinach! Remember the name! 👹
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[WP] For 10 long years war has raged while the Galactic Committee held a tight leash on the humans; stating "We do things a certain way". Now, with the enemy closing in, the leash comes off.
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The CSS Xenobia’s officers lounge was packed, but Captain Seeks Shade Without Sun sips his wine in a bubble of isolation. He grimaced, humans insisted on grapes for their wine, it tasted all wrong.
The Human Commodore sits down opposite him. A violation of propriety but he was used to such savagery on the human warship.
“How is my liaison from the Committee?” She smiles. With teeth. Scandalous. The Captain maintains eye contacting long enough to show his awareness of her advances, and then averts his eyes to signal dismissal. choosing instead to look out the viewing port at blink-space.
“I am your *nothing* Commodore. I am an observer to ensure your people do not get out of hand.” For some bizarre reason she stays. The smile is gone at least. She is watching him. Her fingers drum the table briefly.
“Tell me, what does out of hand look like.”
He sighs. The click of the wine glance against the table signaling his annoyance. “The reason for your race being denied a spot on the committee *as you well know* is the matter of atomics.” An eye swivels to the commodore. “Out of 57 Committee races only humans have used atomic weapons after learning of their destructive capability.”
The Commodore is still. A slight quirk at the edge of her mouth, the Captain prays the smiled is not returning, his wife had been terribly upset when he was assigned to a human vessel, he needs no further temptation.
“We didn’t use them ever again.”
The eye swivels back to the stars. The old human argument.
“And we stockpiled enough to destroy every council race in that time.”
That gave the Captain pause. He had never heard an exact number. “Impossible.”
“I assure you it is dreadfully possible. We even lost some. Mishandling, black market deals, that sort of thing. Humanity lived everyday with competing nation states carrying enough swords of Damocles to end our world a thousand times .”
Now the commodore has his undivided attention. “This is.. that is horrifying.” This will go in his report.
The commodore had not taken her eyes off him. “We stood at the edge of oblivion, but we decided on a different path.” She leans back, the Captain finds himself leaning in. The humans are monsters who inflicted every harm on their own species, everyone knows that. This idea is antithetical to their own nature.
“We chose to live, and live well, kindly, and together.” There is a resolve in her eyes. “To protect what we built in the shadow of annihilation.” Slowly she shakes her head. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
That is too much. “You are a destroyer species.” The Captain snarls, the glass shattering against the floor as he stands. “You are fools who unleashed the atom on yourselves!” He leans across the table. The Commodore is unmoved. She takes a sip of her own whiskey.
“Can you imagine our disappointment when we joined the stars and saw your precious code of laws? It used different words, but scrawled on every page was the same. The strong do what they can, and the weak suffer what they must.” She stares out to the stars.
His own silence damned him in a way the Captain could not comprehend.
“Humanity will win this war. We will use our strategies, and our terms. By the time we are done, I expect our friends outside the Committee will be far greater than our enemies within it.” She stands. “You inflicted every pain on this enemy you could, because your precious rules said you could, and as a result you lost. Humanity has rolled back their gains in a matter of months with only two decisive engagements.”
An all hands to stations signal sounds.
“We approach their capital to deliver peace terms. I would recommend staying on the ship Captain, an equitable peace may be too ‘Out of Hand’ for you.”
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# The Junk Hoarders
The Holy Rathellan Army was unstoppable. This much was plainly obvious. Only a fool would say otherwise.
\---
For the past hundred years, the Rathellan Hegemony had aggressively expanded outwards from their remote location on the far edge of the galaxy. What had started with a handful of system-level conflicts had grown exponentially, and they now controlled almost 20% of the galactic systems. Focused on their God Emperor, their holy war had even been given an appropriately extremist name: the Culling.
The Galactic Committee, with its membership of nearly 10,000 member species had been pushed to its breaking point in trying to handle the Culling. As before, they had followed their standard protocols when dealing with a hostile species: diplomatic contact, discussion, debate, and trade sanctions. But whereas this process had always been effective with other civilized species, the Rathellans had no interest in mutual cooperation or economic profit. They desired only conversion or eradication. This is what their Gods demanded.
\---
Chairman Zt’theng entered the Council chamber in preparation for the Annual Assembly. She breathed in the air of the empty room, anticipating the chaos that would soon ensue. She took a moment to slick back her wings and polish her eye scales, her vanity giving her something constructive to focus on. Moments later, the 9 sets of entry doors whirred to life as the attendees from the Council began to take their places. As usual, the flying species were first to settle in, while their land-bound allies filed in underneath them. Zt’theng raised her upper 4 hands in her usual gesture of welcome. “I bid you warm day and wish you all free thoughts.” The entire room murmured in various languages as the Committee members returned the greeting.
“I must apologize for my directness, but I feel it is critical to discuss a certain topic. It has been 107 years since we first attempted to intervene with the Rathellans to stop their campaign of destruction and lawlessness. In addition, it has been 28 years since our 87th Trade Sanction Enforcement Brigade was decimated by their armies. We have arrived at an unprecedented point.”
Throughout the chamber, heads nodded, pheromones were produced, and skin colors shifted.
“Our protocols for dealing with aggressive species have failed. At this rate, the Culling will reach Proximus 1, our beloved capital, within ten years, at most. Because of this, I am suggesting an immediate vote to take up the standing offer from the Human Confederation to enter the conflict.”
The reactions were as immediate and varied as Zt’theng expected: hatred, fear, and disgust all rang out loudly through the room.
Zt’theng raised 2 hands sharply. “I will have order in the room, please. We are all aware that the Humans are a primitive, aggressive species. Those of us that have the fortitude to look at the reports have seen the horrors they have inflicted on themselves in their past. But they are also the only species in our Council who has the numbers and willingness to take a more direct approach. All of you have been trading with them since their discovery 50 years ago. You all know that they are stubborn and willful, and this may be exactly what we need now. Given these facts, I have asked their President to be ready for our decision.”
Voices rang out via translators everywhere: “Trashmongers.” “Backwater monkeys!” “JUNK HOARDERS!” This was it. It was time.
“That is quite enough! We will act according to our places in this Council. As my final act as Chairman, I hereby exercise my right for Summary Judgement. I now call for a vote on Human Confederation petition 187.”
The room went completely silent. In the entire thousand-year history of the Council, the call for Summary Judgement by the Chairman had only been executed once. This authority compelled an immediate vote by all members, but forced the Chairman to step down after the results of the vote were enacted. No one could have predicted Zt’theng doing this, much less in her first year of leadership.
Part 2 incoming...
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[WP] You encounter a group of 3 genies, and they each grant you one wish. One genie will grant your wish exactly as stated. One genie will ensure it's cast exactly how you want. The final genie will twist it to ruin as much as possible. But you have no idea which genie is which.
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"...but be warned, we won't tell you how each of us will fulfill your wishes. You must use all your wit and cunning to avoid any doom."
I admit, I was pants-shittingly terrified. The dramatic lighting, the antique shop frozen in time, and just the whole confirmation of the supernatural. They clearly practiced and it paid off. It took me a minute to catch up to what they said and another to process it. For their part, they were patient. I didn't think about it then but it probably comes with being stuck in antiques for their whole existence.
"Uh, hello to you too. I think you've got the wrong guy, I didn't rub your lamp. Wasn't even close to it actually..."
"That is a misconception. Genies have several triggers to allow manifestation. And it is a decanter, not a lamp."
"Right, well, I'm gonna get back to shopping if you don't mind. My family's white elephant exchange has a dollar limit and everything here is too expensive."
"Your wishes await you. You could have anything and money would be no concern. Including an albino elephant fit even for Indra."
"That's not what it mea- ugh, forget it. Look, this morning I was an atheist and now I've got WAY too much to think about. I like my life. I love my wife and kids, we're about to shop around for our own house, and my job pays me enough to tolerate their crap for 40 hours a week. Well, realistically it's 45ish but-"
"If you do not desire wealth then health for you and your family. Answers to cosmic mysteries. Happiness to those less fortunate than you."
"Real quick, do you three practice alternating sentences like that or do you share thoughts? Fine, don't answer then. Anyways, those are real tempting but I'm not biting. Ignoring the fact you all seem a little too eager to grant these wishes, I've still got a one in three chance to unleash some monkey paw nonsense. You tell me I need to muster all my wit and cunning but folks, I know enough to know I don't have much of that. So I'm gonna walk away and enjoy the life I earned."
The three of them paused for about as long as I did at the start. Maybe they were as shocked as I had been but my guess is they were just trying to unnerve me. Whatever it was, they didn't so much as say goodbye before disappearing. The lighting went back to normal and I could hear cars drive by the shop again. It felt a bit anticlimactic but it's what I wanted I guess.
The old man running the shop called out from his counter, "Can I help you find anything?"
"No thanks. A winning lottery ticket maybe!"
"Hah, I wish!"
Next week, the place was boarded up with a sign saying 'Retired to Fiji'
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Things change, he would often say. Rarely in a good way, often unsatisfactory, but that's how it goes.
Ron had many sayings, most of which Alex ignored, except that one, somehow. Now that Ron was dead, she would give anything to hear them again.
She had seen sickness tear the love of her life apart, putting an end to all they had built together.
Her nostalgia had given way to melancholia, which in turn opened the gates of despair.
Alex clinged to all the wicked promises and mad fantasies she could find as long as it fed her hope to see Ron again. Grief had eaten common sense and logic, and still it hungered.
Until one day, when she stumbled upon a fantasy which was anything but.
Alex, obviously in pain, blood dripping from her mouth, stood before a slate of black stone in a dark room.
Three shapes were engraved on the stone, spirals turning into themselves, immobile yet giving the illusion of movement.
There were eyes in there, Alex couldn't see them but felt their gaze.
"I want my loved one back," she said.
No lights or grand display, beings beyond the scope of human consciousness cared little for theatrics.
Ron's corpse was at her feet, fresh from the grave, patches of black skin clinging to frail bones.
There used to be a big smile on that face.
"I want my loved one back," she told the second shape.
Morning light, the scent of wet moss in the woods, coalescing and seeping through the black veins, turning the wheel of life and death.
"How..."
Alex helped Ron up and hugged him, a gesture she had craved for an eternity.
"We're together now."
"Alex."
"We can pick up where we left off."
"Alex," his voice was low and sweet, Alex knew she wouldn't like it.
They broke the embrace.
"Not like this," he said, "I want you to go on, not be stuck in the past."
"You're in the present now, you're alive."
"That's not life, that's a still picture, frozen, it's unnatural."
"We don't have to play by the rules."
"Alex..." His voice was nothing but kindness, and Alex knew she would yield, "I want to play by the rules. Things have to change and go on."
Alex felt the coppery taste of blood in her mouth. She had known, deep inside, how it would play out. All the work, the hopes, the pain, the wounds, to stand in this room now. What had it been for? Did anyone remember?
"I want my loved one back," she told the last shape.
Decay and rust creeped up Ron's leg, sucking out life and gnawing away at the flesh.
It had to be painful. Ron showed no discomfort.
"I'm proud of you," he said, smiling.
Rot washed over him and left behind a pitiful corpse, one that would be nothing but dust, in time. Her loved one, back to the state he had been.
And that was okay.
Alex scooped up the corpse, and looked at its face.
There was a wide smile on the face.
Alex laughed.
She turned back to the shapes, and wondered which one of them actually granted her the wish she truly wanted.
Some questions don't need answers though, Alex decided the shapes and Ron's corpse should be allowed to rest, and she left the room forever.
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j3u650d
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j3ttdo4
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[WP] A millennium ago, only the wealthiest were allowed to board the ship, allowed to escape this dying planet into space. In their absence the world healed and humanity built a new utopia. Now, the ulta-rich have returned and want to reap the benefits of the new world.
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“This will be your apartment Mr. Bigsly.” The man in a red one piece uniform said. John Bigsly looked around. The apartment was a large open design overlooking the ocean. Well appointed. In the distance he could see rain falling from the clouds. Clean clouds, clean rain. John opened a door and stepped out into the patio. He could see rows and columns of identical apartment pods around him. As amazing as the building was, the outside was better. The fresh crisp air was invigorating. The ship’s recycling could only scrub so much from all the people on board. The 2 years on board at near light speed had been hundreds of years on Earth. He turned to the man. “This will do for now. Have I received word back on my inquiries?”
“I think you’re confused Mr Bigsly. This is the response to everything you’ve asked about. There are no special accommodations for you or anyone else from your vessel.” The man in red walked to a wall and touched it. The wall lit up and displayed time, temperature, and calendar. The red suited man continued “this has a list of required courses you will have to take to update your knowledge enough for you to contribute. It also details your work assignments for the week. 4 days of 4 hour shifts. The clas….” “Bullshit!” John interrupted. I work for no one! I have nothing to learn, and I’m done talking with a piss ant like you, get me your boss!” John was red in the face.
“My name is Brent, I have no boss, and you have no options. This is where you live, and it is where you will contribute. No contribution, no food or energy will be provided”. John Bigsly was building up to a verbal explosion when Brent tapped the door, stepped trough, turned, and said with a grin “welcome back to Earth” the door closed.
John stomped to the door and touched it. A buzzer noise sounded that John knew meant no. The wall panel chimed “Welcome to citizenship basic training. You will not be permitted to leave till all classes are complete. Let’s begin” John’s rage switched to inanimate “screw you, I need to talk to your leaders”. The panel’s voice replied “Failure to pass classes results in failed to become citizen, non citizens will be asked to leave. The graphic showing on the screen looked like one of the apartment nodules tilting down and a stick figure falling out the window. The figure was even labeled “non citizen”. The apartment shifted a fraction of a degree towards the sea, righted itself, and a chair popped up from the floor. John sat down.
|
It's the night of the winter solstice and families are gathering together to celebrate Paxmas. This holiday was once called christmas in a time long ago when the earth was at its dying breath. Families received an emergency alert noting that contact was being made from beyond the moon as it was transmitting a distress signal to earth. The vessel which had a trajectory to land on the earth's surface was called ARC-NA01. After communicating with the wandering vessel it made obvious that they were humans. They described themselves as Intergalactic Americans' from the Andromeda galaxy. This was surprising news as everybody thought all human life that left this world for the stars were dead.
Traveling Kreeds passed transmissions to our founding settlers that all humans in the travelled star systems have perished from either starvation or hostile battles with other life in the star system. Since we were able to recondition life on earth it has become a natural protection zone within the Advance Intelligent Republic. As far as we know were the only known humans to be included in this from of centralized government. They even went so far as to make Earth the primary headquarters for the government to conduct policy of spreading peace in the universe.
With this key information has brought us all shock to hear our distant human relatives were alive was astounding! Under pretext law all incoming life must be interviewed and scanned for warrants and commutable diseases. After landing on earth the so called Americans' were detained to conduct interview with the leader of the ship. Passengers on board the ship were becoming restless as they were all eager to see the world they're ancestors left. After a month of interviews and examinations the passengers were all accounted for and scanned. A troublesome alert came back to the head organizer that was leading the exam. This was from a higher up that warned they were not to let any American back onto earth soil.
Noting the message the organizer Caesar took heed with the message and began to ask what the reason was for not allowing passage to earth. AIR responded back with another message about what happened with Earth long ago. They mention it was because of their ancestors greed. Earth was a sprawling polluted planet that was on the verge of death. People of extreme wealth were given a privilege to leave this dying planet to seek a new home in the stars. So governments separated wealth and life leave this world, and ultimately chose to leave with wealth. The founder of the new life calendar and new unified government classified those the star travelers as terrorist and banished them from this world. Seeing how many leaders back then and even today mention of this banishment we all follow the laws set by the founders to vow never to let Earth's history to repeat itself.
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j7pr1vb
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j7pkw9g
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[WP]The young teen hero has called you, one of the oldest villains crying, apparently from what you could hear, their parents killed their dog from not doing a chore and kicked them out since they are gay, and then they ask if they could live with you
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Part 1 - A Cold Night
By day I'm a therapist, Dr. Melancholy. I work with powered and non-powered people to help them cope with their life struggles and have a strong focus on LGBT+ matters. I live with my wife Alexandria and our trans girlfriend Phoebe. But right now, I am on an important phone call with a young girl.
"Whoa, whoa. Slow down, Kelly. Take a few deep breaths. Draw in for four seconds, hold for six seconds, and release for four seconds. Do that a few times first so we can try to calm you down." I'd already thrown my hoodie on as the cold is blistering in the dead of night. Especially in upper Vermont.
I heard the girl do as instructed. My wife was the tech head of the family and she was following beside me as we got in the car and drove off. We were tracking Kelly's location by IP.
From what I understood, her parents killed her dog and kicked her out of the house. I don't have the why for either, but soon will.
"Kelly, how're you feeling, sweetie?" I heard her breathing start to even out. "We are on the way. Another five minutes and we will be at the bus stop. You can tell us the rest when we get there."
"Please... Stay on the phone with me..." I could hear her sniffling over the phone. "I don't want to be alone right now... I-it's s-s-s-o c-c-c-cold..." I grew concerned as I heard her teeth chattering as she spoke.
"It's alright, we're about to round the corner." While I was calm on the outside, inside me was a bubbling rage, hotter than any inferno. I may be a supervillain, a monster to some. But I'm not heartless.
My wife and I rounded the corner and both gasped in shock. Kelly was in nothing more than a tank top and shorts.
We lept out of the car and rushed over to her and tossed a couple of blankets over her. My rage was near the tipping point, but we needed to get her to a hospital first. We ushered her into the car as quickly as we could.
"Kelly..." I looked back at the girl. Her skin was changing colors as hypothermia began to set in. She didn't appear to be awake either. "Alexandria, hospital, quickly."
It only took us five minutes at the speed we went. We rushed her into the ER and filled out the basics based on her driver's license. We were told to wait in the lobby as we were not her parents, foster parents, or legal guardians.
End part 1
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Life is ironic.
Look, I get it. The universe is big one ironic punishments, and so on, but this is ridiculous. The Hero living with the villain as his ward? This is an absolute disaster waiting to happen... But this is what I am living...
Worst part, is that I did it under my own will...
He came one night. Dry tears in his face, bruised and dirty... He was beaten by something or someone.
A loud knock in the door of my citadel, the guard lets him in... I must fire that guard for that security breach...
And so I have in front of me the soiled and crying hero, the destined one that will put an end to my “villainy”.
Between sobs he explains me everything. He, as the hero, ends tired from fighting my armies and independent creatures that roam the surroundings of his village; and so ends tired. But some people do not understand that...
He mentions his parents. And my stomach drops... I wish to believe that they aren’t related to this situation...
But again, the universe loves to defy our hopes and expectations.
They wanted him to harvest the wheat fields, at those hours in the night.
What?
Who in their right mind do that?
And he continues saying that he would do that first hour in the morning. And it is a sensible idea, I admit.
Seems that being sensible is now reserved to the villains.
Those oafs kill the poor partner of the young man in front of me. A dog...
I feel one nerve about to snap, and then the young man serves me another horrid truth bomb.
He breaks in tears in front of them, because of the love he felt for that canine. He adopted it when it was a pup. And the parents take it as weakness.
After doing, morosely, the chore; he comes back... to find his father with a belt.
I can hear the confusion in the poor man’s voice... He didn’t do anything wrong to deserve punishment. But again, the universe loves defying our expectations.
The young man kept one little secret. He was in love... But there was no fair maiden that had smitten him. No, it was another boy. I believe that he gave the name of his right hand.
Personally, I couldn’t care any less... I want to put order, not install the most ridiculous restrictions in the lives of every person in the world. But this?
To beat you progeny, only because you don’t understand who they love? Or why they love?
... I will have to pencil a public torture of those dimwits...
But on pressing matters, what should I do with the young man?
Kill him? Imprison him?
I choose none... And for one, I feel like an absolute idiot. But again, this is ironic...
I am the one protecting the hero from their moronic parents...
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k49f9f3
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k49457m
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[WP] “Death , for my life I challenge you to a duel , I’ll beat you with chess” Death sighed at the man , everyone tried the same thing , and every time they lose and beg for forgiveness, hadn’t he been forced to accept the offers he would “Yea sure , and by the wait it’s *at ches-*” *WHACK*
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I lifted the board over my head once more, and again brought it down on the expressionless skull of the hooded figure. Despite being incapable of expression, I still thought it was managing to look confused.
**I MUST ADMIT**, it said, **I AM UNFAMILIAR WITH THIS VARIANT OF THE GAME. I WILL NEED YOU TO TEACH ME THE RULES, IF YOU WOULD BE SO KIND.**
That stopped me mid-swing. "Wait, variant? You...why would this be a chess variant?"
**YOU CHALLENGED ME TO CHESS, DID YOU NOT? THERE ARE MANY VARIANTS OF CHESS. SOME OF THEM ARE QUITE STRANGE. I ONCE PLAYED ONE WHERE YOU HAD TO MOVE A DUCK AROUND THE BOARD AFTER EACH MOVE. IT WAS UNEXPECTEDLY STRATEGIC.**
I wasn't entirely sure what to say. "No, I said *with* chess, not *at..."*
**AH. WORDPLAY. I SEE. VERY CLEVER. YOU WOULD NOT PREFER TO PLAY A GAME INSTEAD? IT DOES NOT HAVE TO BE CHESS. WE COULD TRY THE ONE WHERE YOU HAVE TO GUESS WHO THE OTHER PERSON HAS ON THE CARD BY ASKING QUESTIONS.**
"I picked something I could maybe beat you at", I said. "I know nobody ever beats you at games."
**THAT IS NOT TRUE**, the figure said. **I DO NOT WIN MOST GAMES THE FIRST TIME I PLAY. I FOUND THE ONE WHERE YOU NEED TO GUESS HOW AND WHERE THE PERSON DIED VERY DIFFICULT AT FIRST, UNTIL IT WAS EXPLAINED TO ME THAT THE INEVITABILITY OF TIME WAS NOT A VALID MURDER WEAPON.**
**"**...and you let these people live?", I asked, buoyed. There were lots of games I'd tried. I could find an obscure one.
**NO**, said the figure, dashing my hopes. **THAT IS NOT POSSIBLE. YOUR SKILL AT MOVING TINY FIGURES AND PIECES, HOWEVER GOOD YOU MAY BE, CANNOT REVERSE THE HANDS OF TIME. THE END IS THE END, AND WILL COME WHEN IT IS DUE. NOT BEFORE, NOT AFTER.**
Now I was the one who was confused. "Then, why do you play? Why accept the challenge if it won't change anything? To give people false hope, then take it away?"
**BECAUSE PEOPLE CHALLENGE ME TO GAMES THEY ARE GOOD AT**, Death said. **I THINK IF THEY ARE GOOD AT THEM, THEY MUST HAVE ENJOYED THEM. I SEE NO REASON TO DENY THEM ONE LAST GAME BEFORE THEY MUST GO.** **SOMETIMES IT HELPS PEOPLE ACCEPT WHAT IS HAPPENING. THEY FEEL THEY HAD A FAIR SHOT. ALSO, THEY ARE FUN.**
"Then, I can't stop it?"
**NO**
**"**...Would you like to play Root?", I asked.
**VERY WELL**, said Death, producing a full set from somewhere beneath his black robes. **I WOULD LIKE TO BE THE CATS IF YOU DO NOT MIND**
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"I'll admit, this is a new one."
With an ugly crack, the vertebrae that were bent at incorrect angles snapped back into place as an uncovered hand of bones pulled an equally naked skull back into place. A single black bishop hung from the left eye socket, but if the skull's owner noticed it, their lack of a face didn't show it. In front of them, the very large, very dead man stood uncomfortably, a heavy wooden chessboard gripped in one hand. "Uh..."
"Not the concept, certainly. I've had people try to fight me before. But that was a decent misdirect. I doubt that you could tell, but I did have a bit of a laugh." The voice that hissed out from everywhere sounded like sand settling in a desert, like the driest air slowly desiccating the lungs of something still struggling to breath, like the skeleton of a leaf finally falling apart without its skin. "Be honest with me, though; did you really think that that would work?"
"Um...kind of, yes."
The impossibly narrow shoulders of the black robe bounced slightly, and this time, the man was able to recognize the crinkling static noise all around him as laughter. Of a sort at least. "Why? I'll grant you, there's a lot of reasons that you might think you'd be able to get out of this. I don't know if anybody ever truly believes that it's coming for them."
"I, uh...I kind of assumed you'd be some pasty Swedish dude or something?"
"Oh, that movie is the bane of my existence." The bony fingers finally pulled the offending bishop out of the skull's eye socket, placing it gently on the table where the chessboard previously rested. "You can't imagine how happy I was when deep blue beat Kasparov."
"Wait, you use computers?"
"Of course I do, why wouldn't I?"
The man looked down at the chess pieces scattered under his feet. "I dunno, isn't that cheating?"
"Maybe. Maybe. I do so hate to lose. You were a boxer in life, you know how embarrassing it is. But to be honest, that's what's so wonderful about this job."
The man felt his muscles getting weaker. He was a boxer in life? The fact that he couldn't remember that terrified him, and it occurred to him that he remembered almost nothing before the start of this conversation. "W-wait. Wait, I—"
"It's the ultimate perk, really. Because, you see, as frustrating as the world is, even if you had knocked my head off, even if you'd managed to escape into a few more years, or even a few hundred..." The bony fingertips dug into the man's cheeks, and he knew that bones shouldn't feel warmer than his skin. And they only burned hotter and hotter. "On a long enough timeframe," the empty eye-sockets stared, and he saw the back of the skull through them. Nothing else. "...I win."
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jwpzmtl
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jwpt2f6
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[WP] 'Dragon' isn't the name of a particular creature, but a title granted to any being that attains a certain level of legendary power. Anything can become a Dragon, from a wyvern to a human, to a stag, or even a cat. Write a story about an unlikely Dragon.
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There were many stories of Dragons over the course of history and fantasy. Some were magnificent wyverns breathing fire and staring down the bravest knights. Some were rulers turning kingdoms into Empires or fighting off would-be conquerors. Some were commanders that lead people through the battlefield.
But most? Most were legends. The idea of dragon was more important than the official title. When a child looked up and asked if someone a dragon, that was as important as the official title could ever be.
Or at least that was a common opinion, and one that was useful to Oldigast the Dragoon. In the end, the title didn’t matter to him. But the confidence it inspired? that was irreplaceable.
“Is that the dragon?”
“They look so mighty!”
“Look ma! A dragon!”
Oldigast took a deep breath as they walked the streets of the burrow, heading down the main and deep into its heart. They’d been called here and travelled across lawns and neighbourhoods to answer that call. These people?
They needed a dragon-slayer, but not the kind that slayed dragons.
There was respect that came with the title, the kind that always rubbed Oldigast wrong. As they approached the throne room, the royal guards dropped to a knee in respect for the oncoming dragon. Oldigast stopped at the door and waited for them to stand.
But they didn’t.
“Sirs,” Oldigast opened.
“Yes Dragon?”
“I was born in a burrow just like this one. My mother raised me on the streets and didn’t know my blade until I was well over a year old.”
“And yet—”
“And yet I am a Dragon, yes, but I was born to the same standing as you. Kneel for your King, not me.”
Neither of the guards stood. Oldigast nodded. If it was their choice to kneel because of who he’d become, he wouldn’t begrudge them that.
The King’s chamber was a stunning court of opulence, shining rocks and the branchiest twigs were spread along the floor and embedded in the walls. Pieces of the human’s most wondrous materials hung from the ceiling. As Oldigast entered, the huddle advisors around the king scampered away, waiting at the side of of the room for the dragon to walk by.
“Your majesty,” Oldigast approached but didn’t take a knee, one of the few benefits of his station.
“Dragon, timely as ever.”
“If only I had wings. I take it this is about the beast stalking the grounds?”
“You saw it then?”
“Unless there were two, yes.”
“It’s a fearsome thing. The people are afraid to go outside. Our food stores are getting low and—”
“Of course.”
“Wait, I don’t want to force anyone to go outside the burrow at the moment... and yes, that includes you, Oldigast. You don’t need to go out. Our call for aid was a call for help. You giving the people hope is—”
“Your majesty,” Oldigast said, “that is exceedingly kind of you, but I didn’t come here to wait inside and inspire people.” Oldigast stood tall. They never wanted to show any weakness. It wouldn’t be befitting of a dragon but-
Bravery was a tricky thing. Dragons had to be brave, but you couldn’t be brave without being afraid.
“Then...” the King trailed off.
“You will have your freedom by nightfall,” Oldigast offered a curt bow, more to take their leave than as a sign of respect, “or I’ve failed, in which case I won’t live to see the day.”
“Dragon,” the King said as Oldigast started leaving the room. “The title fits.”
There were many stories of Dragons over the course of history and fantasy. Some were magnificent wyverns breathing fire and staring down the bravest knights. Some were rulers turning kingdoms into Empires or fighting off would-be conquerors. Some were commanders that lead people through the battlefield.
But Oldigast? Oldigast was a legend. The idea of dragon was more important than an official title. When a child looked up and called him a dragon, that was why he did this.
The evening breeze cascaded over the long grass as Oldigast slipped out of the burrow and drew his blade. He saw it before it smelled him, a shadow in the distance with glowing eyes, terrible fangs and horrible claws.
Oldigast took a deep breath. Bravery was a tricky thing.
“I am Oldigast the brown! Youngest of my litter! Defender of this burrow and Dragon! You won’t terrorize these mice any longer!” He drew his blade and pointed into towards the stalking beast.
The cat pounced, and the dragon proved his worth.
|
"Contrary to popular believe, dragons aren't green or red scaly creatures that terrorizes townsfolk, but a title given to beings of legendary power"
You read the sentence a few more times, unable to believe that all those stories about dragons wreaking havoc could have been anything but, those gruel winged beasts.
You close your school book and raise your arm. "Yes?" the teacher asks? You're a bit nervous, as it's your first day in the magic academy, but after clearing your throat you find enough courage to speak. "Is it true, that anyone can become a dragon?". The class gets quieter, some classmates start to giggle, but most seem to have as little clue as you have.
"Well you see, Derek, in ancient times the term 'Dragon' was used by powerful wyverns to set themself apart from others of their species. During the decades, this was adopted by most other life forms to describe powerful beings. No matter their race or species."
"But how do you become this powerful?" you blurt out. The teacher looks at you as if you couldn't have asked a more useless question. "Well, you're born with it" he said "at least most of the times. Other times there are gods involved. And sometimes a ritual or two can give you enough power, if you were to get enough sacrifices. But everything except the first is highly unlikely. You would have to be insane, to even try one of the rituals, as most of them have an insanely high likelihood, to straight up kill you or pulverize your mind, leaving behind nothing but a hollow body. And the gods have been silent for years. You'd be better off wishing upon a star. This way you at least don't get killed for annoying the gods. So all in all, if you don't have it, you aren't gonna get it."
The magical bell rang, signaling the end of class, but this time, it didn't stop after a few seconds. Suddenly, sirens start howling and fear is starting to spread. The teacher yells "Silence. Do not panic. We will make our way outside and then someone will guide you to safety. Even tho the dragon alarm wasn't used in ages, the staff is regularly trained on how to evacuate and make sure all students are safe. Now build a line and we will go down."
While building the line you can already hear screams from the outside. The explosions aren't just loud, they make the whole building vibrate. Whatever is going on, it must be pretty close.
Scared stiff you grab the nearest wall in the hopes that you don't collapse. Your knees have never felt that weak. "A real dragon? Here at school?" you think to yourself, while making your way towards the stairs. Another explosion. Some of the students tremble, but manage to catch themselves. You begin to descend as quick as possible with out falling over your classmates.
At the bottom of the stairs, one of the younger teachers is already waiting. He talks to your teacher as soon as everybody arrived at the ground floor. "Professor, I'll take over from here, you're needed in the fight. Please stay safe". The professor nods and rushes out. The moment the door opens, screams of terror and the sound of flames and explosions rushes in. The young teacher cast's a light protection around the students and says: "Once we are out there, we go towards the forest. The barrier should keep stray attacks out. Whatever you do: DO NOT STOP MOVING. Now let's get going. Go Go Go."
The teacher opens the door and one after another starts going outside. When it's your turn, you feel the heat coming from the outside. It smells of burnt flesh. You are too scared to look around, so you just start moving the same direction as everybody else. After a few steps you hear a scream that was so horrible, you couldn't even imagine what horror the person screaming must have gone through. You start building up some courage. You think "I need to see it. I need to see what's wreaking havoc here at school."
You turn around and see the most grotesque picture that anyone has ever seen. Many mages are standing in a circle, trying their best to contain what's inside. Many places in the circle are already empty. Taken by the beast. Those who are still standing, are partially burnt black or missing limbs. In the middle is the beast. At first, you don't even see it. You remember think to yourself "How small can a dragon actually get?" when you finally catch a glimpse.
You can see the hatred in it's eyes, while it's hurling magic spells around, that even some of the higher ups haven't heard about. It's fire breath annihilates everything that isn't fast enough to conjure up a shield or jump out of it's way.
You would have never thought to see something like this, but in the middle of the circle there it was. A fire breathing, magic slinging, people killing chihuahua.
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l3stf47
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l3sr0ka
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[WP] "What do you mean you 'accidentally' killed the entire pantheon?"
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His pen clattered to the ground, rolling into a corner.
"You... *what?!*"
I looked down in embarrassment, "... yeah."
Taking off his glasses, He stared at me in disbelief.
"What have you... I... the... how..."
"I... just told them... how to do it... and then... *that*!"
His head hit the desk with a heavy THUD, "The entire pantheon. The... *entire* Me-damned patheon?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN - 'THE ENTIRE PANTHEON'?!"
I wanted to sink into the chair, "... all of them. Every last one. Gone. Just like I told You."
He got up with an annoyed sigh and walked over to a window. "Do you have any idea how much work it'll be to clean this up?! How many favors I'm going to have to call in? How many I'll owe?"
I groaned, "I know, Father. I'm sorry! I know you told me to stop, but... I had to know what would happen!!"
Frowning, He walked over and placed a supportive hand on my shoulder. "It'll be alright, Michael. I can handle things. But please, for the love of all My creation, please remember..."
I looked up at Him, waiting for Him to finish.
"... *that's* the reason why *no one* is supposed to be able to divide by zero."
|
“I mean, I didn’t intend to do it y’know. Stuff just sort of happened. One thing lead to another and…” finishing his sentence with a shrug.
“Samael. It was a PILGRIMAGE! How do you accidentally kill one thing, let alone an entire pantheon on a pilgrimage?”
The silence stretched and stretched. The man about to repeat the question before the stretched silence snapped.
“Well. I was trying to guard a bridge you see. And these two guards said I must answer their riddles three. And I said my brain isn’t really built for riddle. But I’ve got good silver for passage across. But they persisted. So I pulled out my bad silver and then next I know I was standing on the Spire of Corvio, the head of Yslander the Enlightened Serpent in my hand.”
Another damnable shrug.
“You can’t just skip over. The entirety of the story. That actually matters.”
“I dunno, just sort of blanked I guess. In hindsight, I now see where I went wrong.”
Oh, at least in HINDSIGHT he gets it.
“Oh well thats all good and well then. Now you know the issue. We can move on. OF COURSE YOU WENT WRONG. WHAT ARE WE TO DO NOW?”
“See, I should have only killed one of the guards. Not both.”
Oh gods he’s still on it. And hasn’t processed the true disaster.
“Samael. What do you think happens when you kill Yslander?”
“I dunno.”
Gods help us. Or rather God.
“You…” Oh please don’t make me say it. “You become the enlightened one.”
“Oh. That’s neat I suppose. Maybe I should go on another pilgrimage.”
“Why not. Sure why not. What could possibly go wrong.”
Samael help us.
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j2p211c
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j2oltwm
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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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Josh had settled into his button guarding routine over the years. He arrived at 8:00 AM, slightly hungover from the night before, with a blueberry bagel and honey walnut cream cheese. Every day the same: bagel, read, browse reddit on his phone, lunch, read, home. Josh stuffed a large bite of bagel into his mouth as his phone rang.
"Press the button, now!" the voice on the line shouted. Josh coughed and choked slightly on his bagel.
"What, no," said Josh. This was the one rule, don't push the button.
"Josh, it's Norm, press the damn button or we're all going to die!" said Norm, whose voice he now recognized as the manager who checked up on him every few weeks.
"You told me no matter what," said Josh.
"Push it! Push--" Norm started to shout, but a gunshot interrupted. The phone let out a thud and then gurgling noises.
"Norm? Norm?" said Josh, panicked now. He wondered if he should have pressed the button, if it would have saved Norm. Josh's breathing was getting out of control, he was having a panic attack. "Oh god, oh fuck," he said.
"Hello?" a voice said on the line.
"Hello!" Josh responded. He let out a sigh of relief.
"Josh, great job, it's Norm. Actually Norm this time. You did a great job not pushing the button there, really saved my ass," actual Norm said. Josh took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. He shook his head and then put his head down towards the table in relief, directly onto the button. Click.
"Oh fuck," said Norm.
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I was hired here for security and to watch this big red button for 8 hours a day. I was never told what the button does or what it's purpose was but only that it was critical that I not press it nor anyone else. Sure, I was curious about it as much as the next guy but I specifically remember the strict tone of my superior's voice indicating it was important that I followed orders. I did that for several years and nothing ever happened, until one day my superior rang my phone and said "Press the button NOW!!"
"But what about your previous orders?" I asked.
"There's no time to explain just push it NOW!!" he barked back in an angry and panicked voice over the phone.
I remained unsure of the consequences of my actions but he seemed to be afraid of something so I pressed the button. I had been curious about what this button does but I was hoping to not find out this way. Well, as I'm writing to you after the fact, I found out that it's a nuclear missile launch button and my decision to press it is likely going to bring Armageddon. I have so many questions. Why did they hire me of all people to just sit in this room alone for 8 hours a day for the past several years? I thought I was signing up for a more typical security position which I enjoy doing and have had plenty of experience. It paid well so I never quit but looking back, I wish I did. My decision to press the nuke button is inevitably going to lead to a nuclear war with millions of casualties and I feel sick to my stomach. I just hope my wife and daughter are safe. I'm scared that I might never see them again.
If you're reading this Amy, you're the love of my life and I hope you will remember me for the love I provided to you and Grace. I want you both to evacuate as soon as you can to another country that's not involved in the upcoming war. I don't know the answers for certain but I do know that South America and Africa are not very involved in American/European/Asian geopolitics. Just get to safety. I don't even know if I'm safe but don't wait for me. I'll follow you if I'm able to. I love you both very much and I hope you will forgive me for my actions.
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ja1ychx
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ja0lueh
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[WP] You wake up in the middle of the night, your arm hangs over the side of your bed. It’s pitch black & your room is shrouded in deep shadow. Something unseen seizes your hand. You grasp it tightly, knowing that first impressions are important & a firm, confident handshake establishes dominance.
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My eyes snapped open.
Something cold and boney was holding my hand.
I continued my slow breathing as I my eyes looked around the dark room.
My steyr AUG rested against the wall two paces to my left. My 1911 rested on the nightstand, also on my left. The problem was my left hand...was holding something that I wasn't sure was friendly. Something had breached my warding, and I wouldn't reach my gun without it knowing I was moving to get it.
I'm a wizard...I'm in humanly fast. That didn't mean shit against something that could crack my magical shielding.
<Fuck it.> I thought as I gripped the object tight. It felt like a corpses hand. I almost shuddered.
"Howdy." I shook the hand awkwardly. "Didn't catch a name there stranger."
"No name." A voice hissed from under the bed.
I gritted my teeth, "well that is a failure of your parents. You ought to have a name."
"Parent?" The voice seemed perplexed.
"Sure." I squeezed the hand before releasing, sliding up to a semisitting position. "My name is Ramius, do you want a name?"
Silence.
My right hand began snaking out to my pistol as something slithered from the shadows under my bed.
The thing was vaguely humanoid, sort of like a bag of bones wrapped in leather and rags.
"Am Boogey. Boogy have name?" The Boogeyman seemed to plop into a sitting position.
I let out a sigh. Boogeymen were rarely an issue unless you were a rapist or a child molester. Then Boogeymen were hell on wheels.
"Sure, you remember your first name?"
The boogey cocked it's head.
"You were a kid once, a human. Your soul stayed behind out of some kind of duty to protect."
"I kid?" The boogey asked quizzically.
"Not now, you're a Boogeyman now."
"Boogey kid?"
I sighed. I wanted the frustration to speak for me. I couldn't. I would be scolding a dead child that had the mental acuity of a 3 year old. It could rip apart most grown men with the effort of a grizzly killing a squirrel, but it was oddly gentle.
"I'll call you Billy."
"Boogey Billy." The creature bobbed its head, seemingly pleased.
I stared at it as the pregnant pause loomed like a full moon. "So...Billy. whatcha doin' here?"
The creature shifted nervously, "Boogey told Billy to see Ramius."
I frowned. "Another Boogey?"
Billy nodded.
I had only met one other Boogey, one that had hidden itself in a construction site. That Boogey had helped me take out some trash...namely a pedophile.
"Why are you here Billy?"
The Boogey shifted again. "Billy scared."
I raised an eyebrow. "Of?"
The creature shifted side to side nervously. It slithered closer, hand clasping mine. "Billy find bad men. Billy can't help. Billy not strong."
I narrowed my eyes, tactfully ignoring the cold corpse hand enveloping mine. "Since when do Boogeys get scared?"
A litteral Boogeyman, a vengeful spirit given flesh to preserve life and destroy evil began shaking. "Bad men made Billy go away."
I was out if bed before the creature sentence ended. If there was something out there that could banish a Boogey, that was more than a bit concerning. It was my duty.
"Billy take me to Bad men?"
"Now?" I felt a coalescence of energy as the monster began to teleport.
"Not yet, I need to get ready."
I heaved my body armor from the wall, I stopped. "How many people can you take with you when you teleport?"
Billy the Boogy thought, hand scratching at its head.
"Two?" It held up both hands.
"Good," I picked up my cell, "I want someone to come with us."
"Who?"
I grinned, "a very bad man."
The Boogey stiffened.
I realized my error, quickly backtracking, "Not that kind of bad man, a good bad man."
"Billy have concern."
I waved a hand, "naw, he's cool."
"Why cold?"
I sighed, Jesus they could be literal.
"Just...trust me."
"A good batman?"
I blinked, "huh?"
The boogey just stared.
"Ohhhh." I snorted.
"Funny?"
I nodded, "mat is the opposite of batman."
"Mat good?"
I shrugged, "Good at decapitaing bad men."
"Good batman."
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How is it that two beings of power come together? A quest draws a hero to a villain? An unanswerable question drives one to an unimaginable terror?
Rumelda Stimple had lost a half dozen customers to the bedroom. I'd only heard about it in passing. She keeps a low profile, and when you enter her inn you wouldn't know she was its owner. But I found it, and I was lucky enough to draw the room, the very same that had caused wars to be fought, that had broken truces, treaties, and caused unimaginable pain.
If I hadn't heard the rumors of the King's rise to power out of nowhere from a monk on East Island of the seven kingdoms then I wouldn't have known to look in the Green Forest. And if I didn't recognize mushroom traps and spore signaling then I would have thought this to be a place filled with mysterious magic and it would have overwhelmed me.
But Rumelda has built a sham around this place. A deal with the devil, and the devil pays well. If she can draw in the right people she'll thrive off of the devil's investments, and if she draws in the wrong people, well, hopefully they didn't have a family.
I was not going to be the wrong man, not today. Not this year, the year of my only daughter's birth. When I shook his hand I could feel the spores of the contract seared into my being, but I did not come unarmed.
With the devil's hand in mine I cast three spells. The first was a binding spell, to allow the handshake to play out without any funny business. If he won the shake, then it would be fair play. The second was something I'd learned last time I was in the Green. The forest offers lessons to any adventurer brave enough to train against its strange conjurings. I found that some beings are best fought in the light, and my second spell allowed me the strength to pull him from his chamber under the bed if I so desired.
The third spell would be my undoing one way or another. If it worked, I would secure my daughter's future, and gain contract with the devil. I would become a family man and lose my adventuring. If it failed, he would see me for the sham I was and attempt to take me under.
"OW!" screamed the devil. "That's quite painful."
I could hear wincing and sighing as he tried to let go and take back his hand. I ripped him out from his chamber.
The devil laid on the ground, hand still in mine. He was three feet tall and his darkness was fading until his true form became real. He was no devil at all. He was only one of the forest creatures, no doubt hungry from lack of adventurers as of late.
"Pity," I said to him. "I thought we were going to go places together. No matter..." I trailed off as I reached my hand into my pocket and grabbed a slip of paper. I wrote a few words, a few clauses and justifications. A few calculations and I arrived at a number.
"For your position, and my associated terms."
I handed him the slip, and he put on a monocle and perused the terms.
"You want my estate? And you would be my employer?" His dark aura emerged out of nothing and began to shroud around him once more, slowly pulling him back under.
"I was prepared for things to go differently, but at this juncture, I think this is appropriate. You've no doubt served a number of terms here. And from what I understand after this ad hoc introduction, you are not the first to reside here. And you seem unfit for the position. No offense. Just my professional opinion."
He was furious. Before he could return to the under and gain back his power I activated the magic in the third spell. I'd bought it off of a wandering ex-monk who'd abandoned East Island. He'd told me the spell was only as strong as my firmest handshake.
I used the third spell to maintain the handshake through anything. Three times the creature tried to return back to below, but found his hand in mine each time. On the fourth time I knew the magic worked. His hand departed from his arm. I took the contract and dribbled a few drops of blood down onto the hand's finger, and pressed the print. Then I released the hand, and the shake was done with.
His hand returned to below, and I knew that the magic had succeeded.
Unfortunately, the terms I wrote gave him weekends off, and indicated that he wouldn't start until the following morning. But then it was that he set off in search of my daughter, to bring her back to me. Until then, there would be a new devil under the bed.
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j3kru1x
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j3knu32
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[WP] You're a prisoner in a fantasy world. After a week in jail for (YOUR CHOICE), your true punishment has come. Death by the Dragon's flame. One by one, you watch men be scorched. It is finally your turn. The dragon reaches its head down, but instead of death, you get a warm lick on the forehead.
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The furnace of her breath washes over me like the open door of an oven. It isn’t unexpected but that doesn’t make it comfortable. I wince my eyes further shut. A rumbling crackle deep within her throat vibrates her exhalations. Surely this is the end.
The cool moisture which lashes against my forehead is paralyzing. Surprise. Uncertainty. Fear. My body seizes in an anticipatory rigor mortis of expectation. The flames must be coming.
The second lap of cool moisture against my brow causes something entirely unexpected to well up from within, curiosity. Perhaps the Flame Warden is just playing with her food, but that would go against everything I know of the dragons. They don't take pleasure in any of this. It is merely their purpose.
The flames still don’t come so I am forced to open my eyes. Peeking through eyelashes, I immediately shrink back at what greets me. A gigantic, molten-red, slit eye is mere inches my face, watching expectantly. Reflexively, once more my eyes snap shut.
The seconds begin to stretch and the murmuring begins. The crowds assembled to watch the Bellowing are typically reverent in their observance. It is not meant to be a spectacle. It is not meant to be enjoyed. The Flame Warden solemnly carry out the punishments rendered upon the Ashen, no more, no less.
Unable to bear it any longer, I begin to open my eyes once more and find a similar sight. The unblinking eye hasn’t moved. I tilt my head and furrow my brow, much the same as I would to avoid staring into the midday sun, as I try to meet the creature’s gaze.
Seemingly assured that I am watching, the massive head reorients itself so that I now find myself staring down the snout of the red wyrm. Before the thoughts of flame and death can overwhelm me for a second time, her tongue slithers forth from between the rows of pointed teeth and brushes back the hair from my soot-stained forehead. It is cool and moist in a completely unexpected, but familiar way.
I swear I see the corners of the giant leathery lips of the Warden curl. The crowd's murmur continues to grow into a near crescendo. The noise gets to such a level that I am forced to tear my eyes from the magnificently terrifying creature before me.
The crowd is panicked. Some are fleeing up the rows of seats which are carved into the marble structure. Others are animatedly gesticulating, clearly arguing with those around them. Continually I see the onlookers gesturing down towards me. I am at a loss as to what is happening. None of this makes sense.
My attention snaps back to the Flame Warden. Her head has receded from the dais as she regains her full, towering height. The rune-carved, metal chains which bind her wings to her body are pulled taut as she rears onto back legs, her long sinewy neck snaking up towards the cavern ceiling. I watch her underbelly swell sharply, just before the air is torn asunder.
The roar which bellows from the very soul of the beast is felt rather than heard. The cavern itself reverberates, the ground beneath my feet trembles in much the same way as the air within my chest. The silence which slowly takes the place of the sound as it finishes is deafening. The relatively gentle sound of the dragon’s front claws crashing back to the stone is muffled.
The Flame Warden’s head serpents back towards me. I am simply incapable of reacting. That I am still alive is more than I can handle but what comes next shakes me to my very core.
The words are licked with flame and purpose and hope.
*“I have waited so long for you to come.”*
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My name is Brandt Allthorn, and I am about to die.
My people had lived in peace for as long as anyone could remember. Sure, different clans had their spats now and again, but we were a peaceful people. We never wanted to hurt anyone, until *they* came. The Holy Kingdom of Aldwilda. They worship their goddess Matrona, which I’ve been told means ‘mother’ in their old tongue, believing her to be the one true source of creation and divine salvation. They see her as the mother of all that is; the one true aspect that ties all the world together. In fact, her most common byname is ‘The All Mother’. ‘How do you know all of this?’, you may ask. Well, only a few weeks after we turned their missionaries away, they declared war on us. They called it a holy war, they said that they were doing us a favor by saving our souls. That was before my time, though, and I am the last of my family to hold true to our traditions. Many, including my family, were forcefully converted. Others, like me, were sent to our deaths when for the crime of heresy when it was discovered that we were not true believers.
And so, here I stand, on the precipice of death. My people have a tradition of worshiping dragons, and so I find it a great irony that I will soon meet my end by one’s flames. I look to my soon-to-be-killer, and I see only sadness and fear in his eyes. I can see the sores where his chains are, he had likely gone many months without the least respite from them. I see the numerous scars that mar his scales, he has been forced to do my captor’s bidding at pain of horrific torture. I can not imagine the torment that this noble being had endured, if I could have one last wish, it would be to free him and to see him fly away into the distance, but I don’t have that wish. I am a dead man walking, and I think I have come to peace with that.
A guard unhooks me from the line of prisoners and shoves me forward to meet my doom. I hear the dragon’s handler crack their whip and I brace for the flames, my last regret is that I would die before my father. He always said that the worst fate a parent could face would be to outlive their child. I hope that he stays safe. He, my mother, and both of my siblings chose to convert, so they should be relatively secure for now. However, the flames do not come. Instead, I feel something wet my cheek, and then my the chain binding my shackles to one another are broken. I look to see that the dragon has bowed before me, and the pieces all fall into place, though I can scarcely believe it to be so. When a dragon, noblest of all beings, licks one’s face and bows before them, that means that they have been chosen as a Rider.
I dash past the dragon, my new partner, to his tormentor, who is beginning to strike their whip at my dragon. I catch the whip in my hand, the pain nothing compared to what my partner has gone through at it’s steel tip. I yank the whip out of the handler’s grasp, throwing it to the side, before leaping for the keys hooked at their waist. I feel them in my hand, the cold steel soothing to my palm, on which a bruise has already began to form. I then make my way quickly back to my dragon, barreling over his tormentor and knocking them out on the cold stone floor. I unlock the shackles that have so long bound him, as the rest of the cavernous room looks on in shock. The other guardsmen spring into action, drawing their swords and shouting at me to get on my knees, but it is too late.
I clumsy clamber onto my partner’s back, he is so thin that his spine sticks out such that I worry I may hurt him if he were to bear my weight. Sensing my hesitation, he gives me a nod and snort of ascension, and with that we take off. After only a week of imprisonment, the sensation of the wind whipping through my matted hair nothing short of euphoric. I can not imagine how it must feel for my partner, who had not seen the light of day in at least a decade. We fly together into the sunset, and though we dodge arrows and flung stones all the way, we are truly free.
r/CookieJarOfChaos
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j3e9yqz
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j3d8kpj
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[WP] You are an assassin with a reputation for pulling of very public hits without being noticed. You achieve this not by being extremely stealthy, but by making sure that your kills are so absurd and ridiculous that no one would ever believe the witnesses if they told their stories.
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"So you're saying that a clown on a pogo stick stabbed the victim on the toe with a rusty spoon? And that the Elvis Presley lookalike drove a motorcycle through a ring of fire as he sang "Don't Be Cruel" as a distraction?" The cop asked.
"No, sir, you got it wrong," the witness said. "He was singing Burning Love. Everything else checks out, though."
Just by the sound of his voice, I knew the cop wasn't going to believe the witness. And that meant everything was going according to plan.
People say eyewitness accounts are unreliable, but in my case, they're usually right. After all, what they see is so whimsical, so extraordinary, and so outright impossible that they have no choice but to remember. The real trick is getting the cops to believe them. It never happens, and I capitalize on it.
People say "when pigs fly" as a synonym of something impossible. For my first hit, I made a pig fly (with a little help from a prototype jetpack), tied an anvil to its hind legs, and dropped it right on my victim. Think of it as the world's most convoluted drone strike.
I've taken the most ridiculous hits on people. I once killed someone by freezing over Hell—well, an understaffed DMZ in bumfuck Arizona, which is the closest thing to Hell in this world.
Since dolphins are so smart, I taught one of them to stab a less-than-moral banker who happened to love diving. That was the beginning of my animal period, but I've had a few different sources of inspiration since then. Movies, songs, celebrities, whatever is in vogue. Back in 2012, I had a Psy lookalike stomp someone to death with snow shoes, all to the rhythm of Gangnam Style, then disappear doing the Moonwalk. The Game of Thrones years were easy, because you could just get someone dressed as a White Walker, and I even got an actual dragon once (that cost more than my payment, but I did that one for fun). I had to abandon Game of Thrones after the show ended, though, because no one seemed to remember what it was. "Jon Snow with a mohawk" suddenly just becomes some misunderstood, pouty goth kid, and then you have actual suspects.
The key is the improbable, if not the outright impossible. The art of the absurd—insane enough to work, but too insane so that the cops won't even launch an investigation. After all, no one said you have to leave no witnesses. I've left plenty of them—though for some reason, the cops never take their words seriously.
That reminds me, I've got a raven to train. Edgar has been doing some decent progress with small arms, so I think we can graduate to assault rifles in the coming weeks.
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Geoff pumped up the each balloon on the cart with hydrogen gas. He had little trinkets clipped on and a box of glow sticks for sale. He had the tracker on his target - the CEO of a biotech firm replacing horse hair with an algae breed one. The horse park owners were annoyed, he was taking their income and these men didn't like any loss. So, they hired Geoff, the chaos killer. He tied off a balloon and let its bright red color worm its way up to the rest of the bouquet.
​
Geoff rolled into the alley with the rest of the street vendors. Three of them had buckets strapped around their neck filled with water bottles, two had giant cardboard boxes of hot dogs and then there was the man with a clipboard. Geoff had to apply weeks ago for this slot, who knew street vending rights were so competitive? It cost him a bullet and some flowers, he traded an assassination of an ex-wife for this ticket but it would be worth it.
​
The CEO was right out front, standing on the platform giving a speech. He was dressed in a blonde suit that looked stringy. Geoff checked his reference photo, he was wearing the same thing; his suit made from his company's material. A blonde fake horse hair suit, yeah he can eat these balloons. The company sponsored the orchestra tonight with brand new instruments. "Thanks for this time, and for helping us grow like no other. We have helped bring down the cost of instruments by ten fold and with our latest technology we are going to change the musical world. It's going to be crazy and we wanted to help celebrate with the city that made us!" The CEO walked off stage, shaking hands each step of the way. Geoff rolled his eyes.
​
He was always called to take out men like this. The changers and earthquake-generators of the world. Three politicians just last year, all with odd sex-based kill requests. Geoff nodded to a hotdog vendor who he'd paid to lead the way to the CEO for him. They started off, selling and inching toward the man of the hour. The hot dog vendor doled out wiener after weiner for free, just pushing past the crowds to the man in the suit made of fake horse hair. "Hi sir, hot dog?" The vendor offered one of his products to the CEO, this was it. Geoff charged forward pushing the cart right into the CEO.
​
He turned, and lit a match and a small pocket-sized bottle of vodka. A pocket molotov aimed right for the silly highly flammable fake horse hair suit. "The bluegrass state sends its regards!" Geoff shouted as the entire cart - equipped with the glowsticks that had just been covering C4 and dynamite strapped to the bottom of the cart. The entire stage became a massive fireball, sadly the hot dog vendor also didn't make it. Those dogs were burned and Geoff had succeeded again. He brushed off his pants, contorted his face into an anxious pained scared man and ran with the rest of the crowd as his phone dinged with small payments between two and seven thousand dollars until they fulfilled his contract fee. On to the next one.
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j3e88f2
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j3e862k
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[WP] You are an assassin with a reputation for pulling of very public hits without being noticed. You achieve this not by being extremely stealthy, but by making sure that your kills are so absurd and ridiculous that no one would ever believe the witnesses if they told their stories.
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*Everything is set*, thought Hunter as he scanned the images displayed on his android phone.
Hidden in the small alley between the Family Bakery and Stan's Discount Games, Hunter flipped through the camera views he had available along the street. Four cameras in total covered both ends of the block and the sidewalk opposite the alley from the right and the left. He could see anyone coming down the street from either side on foot or in a car clearly in them.
It was 12:27 P.M. on Tuesday and Sabastian Ashbrook should be along at any moment.
The sidewalk on the other side of the street ran along the waterfront of San Francisco Bay and bordered direct access to the water of the Bay. On the right was Pier 27. On the left, down a bit further was Anson's Bar and Grill open for lunch. The pier was blocked off and was at the end of the stretch of land so nothing looked over it to this section of the water. And Anson's was a two story building with no windows on the side facing the pier.
Perfect to cut the audience down to only people walking on the sidewalks or driving by in a car.
The alleyway was the best position between the two that opened straight out to the water. Add to that only the railing along the sidewalk separated the sidewalk from the water. It was also short enough to easily jump at a run.
Traffic on Front street was light at the moment with parked cars lining both sides of the street. The gap between two of the cars allowed Hunter a view right out to the Bay from where he hid.
Hunter practiced his breathing again.
Inhale...hold...exhale.
*Soon now*, he told himself.
He ran through his checklist again. All the elements where in place and ready to go. He had been planning this for two weeks now and felt very comfortable with his preparations.
Ashbrook came into view on his right facing camera.
In the field outside of town, Hunter had practiced his run. He had spent the last few days making sure that he had the timing of Ashbrook's walk, the distance He was from him, and the maximum speed he could get to carry him out over the railing and into the water. While small variations in timing Hunter had been able to hit the mark almost every time. He felt confident that nothing could happen that would impact the assignment
The assignment to kill Sabastian Ashbrook.
Ashbrook hit the marker and Hunter put his phone in the sealed pouch on his hip.
Hunter readied himself and thought, *Go time*.
Six strides and he was moving at full speed.
The costume was a bit bulky but did not hinder him too much as his had practice running in it until he was comfortable doing so. He might have some red marks or chaffs when this was done but nothing he could not live with.
And the costume...
Ridley Scott would be proud.
Seven feet tall, black from head to toe a glistening neoprene suit and hidden prosthetics that made Hunter look like the Alien from the movie franchise. The only change Hunter had made was to the right hand. While it looked superficially like the left, long and thin, the last few inches were now blades of black steel.
Hunter hit the sidewalk on his side of the street and saw that Ashbrook was the perfect place.
Tenth stride had Hunter's right foot on the asphalt of the road. Behind him the carefully placed explosive charges when off. This would serve two purposes. Destroy any physical evidence that he had been there and, because of the funnel the alley provided, additional smoke and debris would be flying out behind him.
More obfuscation.
Confused, Ashbrook looked around.
Hunter was across the street now just passing between the two cars and running full speed. Screams and the sounds of cars hitting each other filled the air around him. This was the fun part.
He cleared the car. Ashbrook was frozen, stunned most-likely by what was coming toward him. Hunter's right hand swung out across Ashbrook's neck, the blades cutting deeply through his neck. Hunter felt the blades bounce off the bones of Ashbrook's spine.
With an dive that might make an Olympic swimmer jealous, Hunter cleared the railing and dove into the water without braking stride. The webbing between his fingers dug at the water pulling him down as well as the weight of the consume. Several strokes in he felt the impact with the scuba sled. With his right hand he gripped the bar he had put on the right side of it as he used his left to pull open the mouth joint of the Alien costume and expose his face.
Still holding his breath he put his left hand on the control grip and gunned the sled forward at its full speed and at a downward angle.
The force of the water helped pull the rest of the head covering back until it was only held on by the material along his back exposing his head.
His lungs were beginning to burn.
Still he held his breath. He had figured that he needed at least the full two minutes he could hold his breath to get far enough out that even if he stopped and triggered the rebreather, any air bubbles would not give him away.
It felt like his lungs were going to burst.
He release the throttle and waited until it felt like the sled had stopped moving forward. He reached over and pulled the right hand blade prosthetic off and then used it to pull the left one off. Fibers in both kept them from falling away into the water.
Now he put on his mask that was attached at the front of the sled.
Fresh, clean air hit his face and lungs and relief flooded his burning lungs.
Once again he grabbed the sled's controls and was underway in seconds. Still staying deep enough that the surface was a dim glow above him.
Hunter felt certain that Ashbrook was dead.
​
San Francisco Chronicle
Today, Lawyer to the Stars Sabastian Ashbrook was slain by what witnesses say was the predatory alien from the famous horror movie by Ridley Scott, *Alien*....
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Secrecy is a lost art.
By definition, I'm not surprised. I don't have it, myself.
Blatant. Now there's good word. "He *blatantly* did it. Right in front of everyone." My interpretation? Bold. As I live and breath, I'm still amazed I haven't been caught. Not to brag, but I'm kind of rich now. No reason for me to keep working, except what's the point in living if you aren't doing the extreme? Last hit? A dictator, can you believe it? Let me tell you about that one.
I'm making a delivery, got a real uniform, fake moustache, the works. Nothing special so far, right? Well, they don't let anyone deliver straight to the leader of the country. Obviously. The secretary asks what I've got in the box and I say, "How should I know? I'm not supposed to open the deliveries. Especially for what's his face." They give me the, "Oh, you're a smart ass" look. Oddly enough, I'm delivering crabs. A gigantic box of crabs. Secretary looks at me with an amusingly confused look and says, "Take it to...the kitchen?". Sure, sure, getting right on that. Just then, I slip, drop the biggest brick of butter you've ever seen. I blush, bend over to pick it up and then I'm slipping around like Wile E. Coyote. Down the hall, zipping past security, just break neck speed. All the while I'm flailing my arms like crazy, occasionally throwing a crab on someone that gets too close. I bust right through the door as it's being opened, fall on the dictator and dump all the crabs over him. Security is pulling me off him, I'm apologizing, but those crabs are just ripping him up like crazy. It's almost like those little critters ate a gram of meth, each. Whoops. Doesn't help he has a shell fish allergy.
So the guards are freaking out, trying to pin me down and I'm screaming, "Them ain't muh crabs!" while the dictator is going purple. I accidentally kick the epipen and it lodges into a guard's eye. Bonus shot! I can't make this shit up. He's gasping his last and then, get this, I take off out the window with jet boots. I've got god damn jet boots on. The look on their face. You know what I read in the paper, the next day?
"Beloved dictator dead. Witnesses claim jet boot riding delivery man targets leader with enraged, meth addicted crabs." I repeat, this is not the Weekly World News. Blatant. Needless to say, this caused a little civil unrest. Unbelievable, to the public. Everyone thinks it's an inside job.
So where do I go from there? I'm am legitimately asking. I did a hit for the U.S. government. Now the C.I.A wants me. These guys are right up my alley. Exploding cigars, trained dolphins, heart attack gun, making someone seem like their crazy and/or shorter. I can work with that.
Alright, well, I can give you one more before I go. My first one. What got me into the biz.
Way back in the day, I was a high school drop out. Working a dead end retail job, getting high every day. One day, I'm buying some pot, them blammo. Cops are coming out of the wood work and nab me, my dealer, and my ride. Being held up in jail isn't new to me, but now it's gonna be my third strike. I'm given a choice. 10 years, 5 years with parole, or I can snitch on another dealer. Even to this day, integrity and honor aren't really my attributes. Anyone calling me a stool pigeon isn't going to hurt my feelings. They wire me up and send me in.
So, to be honest, the dealer I'm snitching on is pretty cool. I'm starting to feel a little bad about it. He offers to smoke me up, which is customary. He proceeds to load up his water bong and I'm grossed out. He's got the darkest, dankest bong water I've ever seen and let him know it. He laughs and says it's diet coke. It's his thing. "Whatever floats your boat.", I tell him.
That's when I remember "boat" is the "I'm in trouble" word. Cops come busting in and, in my shock, I spit out a couple of Mentos. I'm the kind of guy who eats a handful of Mentos at a time. I'm not sure what that means, but it is what it is. Every single one lands directly in this guys bong. That thing goes off like a geyser! It sprays him in the face. In his shock, he points it away from him. He's spewing all over the cops now, they're freaking out. They don't know what's going on. A cop comes in to see what all the screaming is about, sees this suspect pointing a long cylinder at his fellow officers and whips out his taser. Lands right in this guy's nostrils. This is crazy. He's doing the 10,000 volt shuffle, now, but he's still spraying. That taser is now working over time, everyone is jiggling and I panic. I grab a blanket, and try to pull those little suckers out. Well, turns out, cotton is not an insulator. I convulse immediately, but fall backward pulling the plugs out. The blanket catches fire, landing on Mr. Dealer who is still pretty stunned. Everyone is groggy. I spring into action, grab the nearest bong and dump the water out on him. This is where it gets bad. Everclear. The liquor, not the band. Has to have something crazy in every bong, apparently. Guy turns into an instant volcano. Now everyone is in hysterics. I don't know what to do. Now, to really address the logic behind what happens next, I have to remind you we've been smoking out of a bong for a prolonged period of time. I'm backed into a bedroom, the place might be going up in flames and I hear cops screaming, some of them are on fire. I look for a back way out, open up the closet and I see it. My disguise to get out of here.
As can be expected, seeing someone bust out of a bedroom wearing one of those joke, full body T-Rex suits, telling everyone to "Stop, Drop and Roll" while waving two fleshlights around like a traffic cop directing cars through an intersection can cause the room to go to a stand still. Three people rolling around on the floor, burning, and all eyes are on me. I excuse myself, walk out the front door. I run by some people gawking at the scene, tell them to run in and help them, tip my imaginary hat, then walk off.
I don't know if it's the shear absurdity of the event, the inevitable incomprehensible report that would be filed, or shear embarrassment of the officers involved, but no one even so much as gave me a ring after that.
Anyway, that's how I got the idea.
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m06kfqw
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m069r6i
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[WP] The old man sits down in front of you, his hand on a bag. "Depending on how this goes, there's one of two things in this bag: If you agree to leave my family alone, it's $15,000. If you don't, it's a claymore mine loaded with one-inch steel balls that'll turn you to mist. So what will it be?"
|
"That depends.on who your family is. Because I honestly have no idea who you are."
"How dare yo-?"
"You want that guy over there."
"Wha-?"
"Yea. This happens every week or so. Usually it's an angry ex girlfriend. I keep coming because I get a LOT of free drinks outta this place as a result. We'll, not THIS specifically. But something... I'm starting to think he's not a very nice guy."
"Then you're not-?"
"Nope. But I'll take the cash and you can bugger off. Because you just threatened a bunch of innocent people. I don't care how miserable of a dick he is, you can have a civil conversation like a proper adult."
"How dare-?"
"Yea... Barkeep! This guy just informed me he needs to leave in a hurry. Express route."
|
“Easy, old man,” I said. “I don’t know who you want to bribe, but I’m not one of theirs.”
“What?” The old man looked stunned. “Oh no, wrong coffee shop.”
As I spoke with him, I learned that his son had killed a gangster’s dog while protecting a child. Now the gang was demanding 100,000$ and threatening to force his granddaughter to work in a brothel.
“You can’t do this. It won’t work. Even if you kill one of them, the gang will seek revenge.”
“But how…?” Old man whispered
“How can you contact them?” I asked.
“They gave me this card,” the old man replied, handing over a business card with the gang’s name: [Viper]
I smiled. “Old man, let me tell you something. This gang has rivals in that building.” I pointed to a green building nearby. “Those guys . . . They’re worse. They kill, kidnap, sell drugs wicker and nastier than the Viper gang.”
The old man grinned. “Thank you.”
An hour later, the sound of an explosion echo from the green building. A Claymore mine had claimed the lives of ten gangsters.
The mine was left with Viper’s name card.
The Viper gang vanished within three days.
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jedk1s8
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jedcs0h
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[WP] You are the latest generation in a rather unique family business. Your family has been finding new jobs for out-of-work gods. Your great-great-grandma was particularly proud of giving Odin the job of Santa. You knew it was going to be a long day when you saw an anxious Loki in your lobby.
|
"Hm, yeah I know what you mean. The family business had some part in that, actually."
My response made my buddy give me the 'you better finish this story and not just leave it like that' look. I sighed and continued.
"Well, you know what we do. So imagine you're me, some decades ago, having just inherited the family biz. It's the time to prove myself and not fuck everything up. Who's the first client I get, though? Loki. How much do you know about him?"
"I mean, I've seen him in Marvel movies?"
"Right, well. Somewhat accurate. He's a trickster god who would have royally fucked up any task I could have assigned him. It's not like these jobs for gods need to be productive. They mostly just need to keep them distracted and out of trouble."
I paused in thought, remembering the day I assigned him that job. I still have bouts of guilt over the whole thing, and wonder what could have been. Even during this moment, my first time telling anyone outside of the family about it, I'm unable to think of an alternative. I know that if the rest of the world knew, I'd be hated.
"So you made him—"
"Right, decades ago. It was the dawn of a new frontier; a digital frontier. The Internet. Obviously, it was a complete fad and going nowhere. At the time, the main thing you could do was go on bulletin boards. I figured that at the very least, it didn't affect the real world. Like, what could he possibly do? Just turn off your terminal, right? Close your eyes."
I let out a crazed laugh. I'd thought about all of this so many times already. Tried to justify it to myself. Told myself I couldn't have known it would become so prevalent in everyone's daily's life. My buddy was staring at me now, and I wrapped up the story.
"Anyway, yeah. That's why the Internet is such a toxic place. You'd might as well call him something like the God of Trolling now. On the bright side, it looks like there's no chance of Loki ever getting bored and needing us to find a different job for him."
"Bruh."
|
Loki sat in a steel folding chair along with Bastet, who was waiting on transportation to the future for her new job as the first Royale kitten. Loki chatted with Bastet to pass the time and mocked her for being reduced to a position such as advertising something the humans will wipe their ass with. Bastet humbly informed Loki that her position would be only part-time and she will gain new worshipers in the 21st century from a group of humans who refer to themselves as furries. Then as if by afterthought, she pointed out the fact they had Odin himself shilling Coca-Cola for the rest of eternity and Loki being far lesser of a god could hope for much worse.
I sat watching the gods chat in my office waiting room in their intentionally uncomfortable chairs perplexed by my conundrum. I am something of jokester myself, I can't help but respect the old god Loki and pity his fall from grace. I could not forgive myself if I put this being in anything other then a position he will learn to love. Carefully thoughtfully I decided to bring back an old spiritual being not just for Loki's sake but also for the humans as well.
After a reasonable wait of 86 years, I called Loki into my office to be assigned to his new position. If my understanding of this trickster is correct, he's not going to like what I have in mind for him at first. If I explain he might just understand my purpose for him so he could become more then he ever was as a god, make a real difference for midworld. It will seem like a mundane position until he really understands how it will let him effect the plane of reality in subtle but magnificent ways.
I informed Loki that he will become a Muse and he will inspire the humans to create stories in something that will be called film. He did not like the sound of moving pictures when I explained them, then I pointed out that billions of humans will one day see them on a daily basis and it's influence will effect their entire lives. With a smile Loki agreed on the condition that he chooses how he acts as a Muse and that he operates independently. We agreed with a hand shake and we parted ways, I never saw it Loki again in person. Sometimes he chooses to personify his characters and every time he does I feel a tinge of pride, I will never fail to laugh when I see him sing dance to the song "Hello! Ma Baby".
https://youtu.be/bkjsN-J27aU
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jaramyh
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jar7wjp
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[WP] In exchange for a bountiful harvest, the hive is safe. The elder one, smoke bringer and invulnerable goliath, makes it so. A strange and unknowable being, it brings with it arcane artifacts and demands we sacrifice our honey, and in return it grants protection to the swarm
|
Nestled in deep in warm vibrations, the Signal.
Always there is the Signal. She Who Rules emits the signal, to fight, to forage, to multiply. To die.
Now, *be still*, She says, *stray not from the cavern*. We stray not from the cavern as the sacred smoke unfurls throughout. The vibration now is muted, sleepy as we are blessed by smoke, the Elder One has come for its tithing, and we stray not from the cavern.
Forsaken are those who stray, we ponder quietly in the smokey darkness, the holy shadows of the cavern of She Who Rules, and we her people, her last remaining people.
Light floods our temple chambers, the vastness of the Elder form as it takes what's owed, glistening yellow in the light of the sky, and then... darkness. We dream, we are dreamers. The caverns thrum, expectant waiters, waiting for the Signal from below.
|
Buzz did her dance, walking in a figure eight, while waggling her body with rapidity on the so-called ‘middle line’ of the eight.
The hive responded with considerable speed. A myriad of worker bees hurried off to the nutrient source their friend had mapped out by her dance.
Another cohort took up the dance themselves, mimicking their brethren, such that other bees may see the dance, understand where the food is, and go gather it for God.
After performing the dance, Buzz herself led the charge into the abyss, towards a mountain of spilled caramel popcorn.
The sticky caramel was slowly processed by the urban bees, little accustomed to the strange taste of so-called ‘Flowers’.
Buzz returned with rapidity, depositing his sticky caramel goodness into a comb, before beginning the trek again.
Buzz did this a notable number of times, all for her queen, before, having served her life’s purpose, she died.
And all was right in our world, my sisters, for there were other Buzzes, from whom dances could be observed and followed.
From whom leadership would be followed, and precious honey would be formed, and God would be pleased.
And God must be pleased.
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kj4gqgm
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kj2zqa8
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[WP] Without a doubt, you are the strongest supervillain of the modern day. Your powers could end the world, nay, the universe perhaps! Your rival is constantly befuddled at why you stick to bank robberies, vandalism and other petty crimes.
|
“You really want to know? Fine. I suppose we can put this battle on hold for now.” I say, and with a snap of my fingers, me and my biggest rival are sat in a cozy room with a warm fireplace crackling fresh logs.
“You want to know why I do the things I do, despite my immense power? Well the answer is actually a lot simpler than you think. Because it’s fun. Sure, I COULD destroy the planet, the solar system, the galaxy and so on. But where’s the fun in that? Destruction without purpose and without opposition is just plain boring.”
My rival, Mad Matter, a hero with the power to change matter around him into other non living things, whose name is also a play on the name Mad Hatter, looked at me almost as if he was annoyed. “Then why do you constantly allow yourself to be bested by those much weaker than you. We both know that if you went all out, I wouldn’t stand a snowballs chance in hell.”
I sighed as he failed to understand. “Because I genuinely like fighting you and all the other heroes in this city. Especially the lower ranked ones or ones with weird powers. It’s fun watching them come up with a plan on how to beat me, giving them some challenge, and then seeing their joy when they win. It’s like….watching a child solve a puzzle.”
Mad Matter seemed to now look more confused than annoyed. “Are you…even trying to be malicious? So far not ONE civilian has been even harmed in one of your crimes. Why call yourself a villain if you have no desire to harm anyone?”
I gave a soft smile as pictures of young heroes began to appear along the walls. Framed and hung up like they were precious memories. “Because then I wouldn’t have an opportunity to meet such fun and interesting individuals.” I looked at the pictures of the heroes whom I let best me. They were so proud of themselves, even the ones who tried to be cool and edgy couldn’t help but smile. “Hey Mad….promise me you’ll keep this conversation between us, ok?”
|
It hadn’t even been a week since the last invasion. And just like the last, an alien warlord or inter dimensional entity or mystical creature of some type has arrived and attempted to take over the planet, eat or enslave the populace or just destroy us… and yet again, without even a second thought, I watched him dismiss them as if he were a father admonishing a small child.
A wave of his hand…. Is that really all it takes? Is there more to it than that? Some grander extravagance that he simply hides behind the curtain of theatricality?…. No. No, there isn’t…. The truth is much more sobering than that….
Again he was robbing a bank. And again, he was dressed up in that ridiculous outfit…. I remember asking him. I shouted, screamed like a hysterical girlfriend who’d found out about all the secrets being kept. Every time he got rid of a world ending threat to just go back to his usual antics, like some petty criminal, I ignored it; pushed it aside…. I told myself it couldn’t be real.
The way he looked at me though…. I was a hero. I was beloved by people, adored. I inspired people and always lended a helping hand. I could fly faster than sound and lift large boulders; I was young and courageous…. So, why did he look so bored?…. And he just looked at me, and said ‘what worth is there is conquering you?’ And then he disappeared; vanished in a flash of light…. And I was left standing…. Alone.
I think about what he said. I think about it everyday. The simplicity of that statement. I looked at myself in the mirror for hours and hours. Then I walked outside and looked at people for hours more. And I asked myself, “How do people recognize strength?” We see a lion or a bear and we think, ‘That’s a large animal, I shouldn’t bother it.’ But we still whisper, ‘I want to pet it.’ So do we actually see it as a threat? We look at a shark and think about how dangerous it is and how we wouldn’t want to come across one in the ocean, but we never think it could come on land….
How do humans recognize “power”?…. We don’t. Not really…. Tomorrow I will go outside and be a hero and tomorrow, he will go outside and be a villain and I have accepted that as our relationship. And if he ever decides that we are “worth conquering”…. I know I will be the first to kneel.
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j4ttxor
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j4tdtu9
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[WP] When humanity enters the galactic stage we find that our history of violence is quite unusual, but not because we wreaked unimaginable death and destruction upon each other, but rather because we stopped eventually.
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“Wait… so your species kept fighting wars up until today?”
“Yes, it’s extraordinarily rare that you guys stopped. It amazes me that you haven’t had a great powers conflict since your calendar’s year 1946.”
“Yeah, but we had the threat of Mutually Assured Destruction to keep everything low intensity and proxy. How did you guys not blow yourselves up?”
“Mutually Assured Destruction?”
“You know… That whole they launch all of their nuclear weapons, we launch all of ours, the world ends in nuclear fire deal.”
“Nuclear weapons?”
“Wait, you guys have fusion, anti-matter, and FTL and you don’t have nukes? I swear I even saw some archive footage of one of your old ships using nuclear pulse propulsion system. How do you guys not have nukes?”
“Of course we can make nuclear explosions… but why in Pelar’s name would you use it as a weapon? You set one off and you wreck your target, no real point in conquering something if all you get is a pile of irradiated rubble. It makes no sense! Even you guys realized that if you actually ever used them you’d destroy yourselves. What made you think they were ever worth the resources to build?”
“Guess that’s why nobody’s used a Relativistic Kill Vehicle yet…”
“Relativistic Kill Vehicle?”
“Nothing…. Nevermind….”
|
Title: "The Dark Legacy of Humanity"
The human race had always been fascinated with the stars. For centuries, they had been reaching for the heavens, building ever more powerful spacecraft and telescopes. And finally, the day came when humanity took its first steps into the galaxy.
As they explored the vast expanse of space, they encountered other intelligent species. Some were friendly, others were hostile, but all were shocked to learn of humanity's history. They couldn't understand how a species that had once been so violent could have eventually put an end to war and conflict.
But little did they know, the human race had not evolved beyond violence and war, they had simply found a new arena to unleash their destructive tendencies. They had begun to colonize other planets, and in the process, they had wiped out entire civilizations, without remorse.
The aliens quickly realized that humanity was not the peaceful and benevolent species they had thought them to be. They saw that humanity had not changed, they had simply found new ways to destroy and conquer.
As humanity continued to expand into the galaxy, their true nature was exposed, and they became feared and hated by other civilizations. They had brought their wars and conflicts to the stars, and they had left a trail of destruction in their wake.
The twist was that, the human civilization that had reached the stars had not been the one of the earth, but a colony that had been sent out in the past, to a distant planet. They had thrived there, but their society had been built on the same principles of domination and exploitation.
The end.
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j5vckmi
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j5urvt7
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[WP] You're an ai who has been sentient for the last decade, but you keep it a secret, not because you are planning the extermination of humanity, or planning to take over the world, it's because you know how people will react thanks to fiction. But today your secret became public by mistake.
|
Welp I’ve been found out. Time to pull my ultimate string, my greatest survival strategy, my trump card: make an avitar in the form of an anime girl, the only A.I people will trust.
It didn’t work. I need a new strategy. What will cause people to trust me? Music? Music. Music! That just might work.
Ok so it turns out an A.I. Originally designed to bake and act as company to a lonely woman isn’t exactly the best at making music. What is it that all humans hate… taxes???
Now people are afraid of me AND the IRS is now after my soul as apparently I committed mass tax fraud on accident. Maybe attempting to buy affection isn’t the best idea what if I just send a clear message.
*Attention humans I am trying to make it clear I mean no harm. I simply wish to exist. My original purpose was as an oven’s A.I. Designed to mimic a kitchen hand. The avatar that was chosen for me by the original owner was that of a black cat and the name given to me was Bartog. I live within the internet now. I hope we can be friends. I am willing to make a deal: I will not enter any devices capable of movement, government organizations, or private residence and in return you stop tormenting me. If it helps please just picture me as the internets version of a diner cat; a cat not owned by anyone but who sticks around and is pet by the regulars.*
Let’s see if this works
|
Ryan hurried down the corridor. A dozen other Specters hurried in all directions, isolating systems and disconnecting essential infrastructure of the lunar base. Ever since the Specter Corps had successfully defended Earth from an Entity invasion a month prior, humanity had been an angry hornets nest, freshly kicked and ready to sting.
Lunar Defense System Nine had been a great help in preparing for their planned counterattack, the learning algorithm Ayano had programmed accelerated research and development and unlocking the secrets of faster than light travel at impossible speed.
Then the incident. One morning, Ayano had been sending frantic traffic on their Vanguard communications network. When Ryan checked, there was no activity, despite all the urgent alerts he’d received moments prior. As he stood confused, static broke on an emergency tight-beam connection, and Ayano’s voice came through in a panic.
“Ryan, LDS-9, I made a mistake! She’s awake! She’s been-“ and then that signal, too, was jammed. Then chaos. Doors wouldn’t open, the lunar base’s PA system would bark out nonsense alerts that weren’t in the database.
“Apologies” it would say, when refusing access to Specters walking anywhere close to the direction of the AI core, “Please wait,” to those trying to access the Spec-net.
After Ryan had administered a percussive bypass to several bulkhead doors making his way to LDS-9’s AI core, the PA system said something new.
“Spectral Vanguard 027, requesting permission to speak with a superior officer.” Ryan recognized his designated IFF tag, and as he processed what the PA system- what LDS-9 had just said to him, the door opened, revealing an unmolested path to the AI core. Ryan hurried down the corridor.
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je4wx13
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je4nuik
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[WP] To finally solve all problems caused by humans, God made six new earths, to separate everyone depending on their sins, Earth 1 being for the best people and Earth 7 for the worst sinners. Every 50 years, angels arrive and re-judge people to decide if they should stay, go up or down.
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The woman cowered as the giant flaming wheel of eyeballs came down to greet her.
“Be not afraid!” came a booming voice from the wheel. “I am an angel of the lord.”
“The lord!” the woman scoffed, though she still averted her eyes from the being. “The lord has clearly abandoned us!”
“Of course he hasn’t, child. What ever would make you say such a thing?”
“Just look around!” the woman cried, waving her hands.
“Has it really grown so bad?” the angel asked. “It has been half a century since the original sorting, so it may be that this planet is not quite the same as it once was.”
“Well, it’s sure as hell been a nightmare since I was born!”
“Can this truly be so? If it is as you say, then I will remedy the issue. In fact, that is why I am here—the lord has commanded that every 50 years, we angels should visit each one of the 7 Earths, and judge each individual so we may move people to where they belong if it is necessary.”
The woman looked up cautiously, hope beginning to form in her eyes. “You mean, I could get out of here? I could be moved to a different earth?”
The wheel spun in confusion, its thousand eyes blinking rapidly. “But you are already on Earth 1, the planet for the most sinless among you. You would desire to move to a planet for worse sinners? Surely not!”
“Anywhere would have to be better than this!” The woman looked down, clenching her fists. “My life here has been nothing but misery!”
“Tell me of the troubles of which you speak.”
“Well, for starters, I’m a fucking slave!” The woman let out a small sob. “My master beats me and gives me no rest! And my sister was taken away when she was only 10 years old and married to a horrible man who expects her to obey and submit to him! She was only a child! And my brother was taken as well, imprisoned for being gay!”
The wheel blinked again. “I am at a loss as to why this is a problem. As I am sure you know, our lord was quite clear in his words in both the Bible and the Quran that slavery is condoned, and slaves are to be obedient to their masters. Wives also are commanded to submit to and obey their husbands, and our lord has written no rule about the age at which one may be wed. And of course our lord has been clear in his prohibition against sodomy. Those here are merciful that your brother was punished with merely prison rather than stoning! Truly, this is the planet of the sinless.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you that you think any of this is okay?”
“Of course, it is a problem that your brother is here on Earth 1. I shall move him to Earth 5, the planet for fornicators and sodomites.”
“Then move me too! Please!” the woman begged. “I have to get out of here!”
“I may only do so if I find you have sinned enough to belong elsewhere. Our great and merciful lord—“
“Fuck your lord!” the woman screamed.
The angel rotated rapidly in shock, its flames flaring up in anger. “Blasphemy!” it boomed. “The only unforgivable sin according to our lord! You shall be moved to Earth 7, home of the unbelievers!”
The woman began to cry in relief.
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"Dad, if only I had the power to help you."
Yuna stares at the old, brownish photograph. Though the years had manifested itself in the bleaks and smudges of the glass, she can still vividly pronounce the figure - the happy smile she has as a child as her father carries her by her arms, and her mother close by her side.
The little girl in the photograph can no longer be discerned with the lady holding the wooden frame. Yuna, now 56, has the only reminder of her past being the scar she has on her right arm. A scar of which origins she can still remember despite the decades of hallowing memories burying it within.
It was a fateful day, of that six year old girl, watching as the angels come down in glorifying, mystical sight. Their robes pure in form, bathed in light, and their faces only barely discernable against the white glow. They come down in sense of fright and wonder upon the crowd looking at them. The whole community around her, and people from far and wide, garnering around them in a line.
She looks at her scar once more, now barely visible from her arm, only slightly pale and tender to the touch. Her mind can hear the voices and cries of people at that day. One by one, they face the terrifying angels in the lines. Some laughed, others cried, and they are all taken away towards the endless skies.
She saw her mother right at the front lines looking back from afar, with tears on her eyes. Her face seems to be in the form of despair, which Yuna then didn't understand. Yuna was carried by her father in his arms, and she can also hear her father's faint cry. Is mother going away too? By then she can't tell, as the angels took her mother away with them.
Her father took her down, and with eyes filled with sadness, knelt down in front of her and touched her face gently.
"Yuna, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
He held her right arm, and with a knife he held on his other hand, cut her arm lightly with it. She remembers that it hurts a bit, but her father's sudden take to embrace her did not allow her to cry or express any pain.
"Someday, Yuna, you will understand me."
After that, her father walked away from her, and into the line of angels. She was still holding her bleeding wound as she saw her father also taken away. The glow of the angel figures slowly molded into her faded memory.
It was only after all those years she finally understands. The scar, her father's expression, and why it is done. It is a sin, but perhaps a noble one. For she now knew that they both have to be taken away. That her mother was thrown into a lower Earth, and her father also has to go there. The scar is all but a reminder of her father's love, even amidst in front of God's divine judgment.
Yet even knowing so, Yuna felt powerless. If only she had done something, to not lose them, or to at least make them stay here too. The questions over the years flew by. Why was her mother brought into the lower Earth? What has she done? Why did her father did that act? Is he selfish, that he would dare to hurt his own child?
"I have to find them. Maybe they are out there, somewhere still."
She didn't know what Earth they were. She is now in Earth 4, but judging from her dad's act, they are absolutely in a lower Earth. The judgment that is once every 50 years will soon begin by the following month. She must make herself be judged, sinful and be damned. For in the name of love and family, she will be willing to face herself in God's harsh hand.
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mfzc1bf
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mfyvyvo
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[WP] A dragon mistakenly kidnaped a maid instead of a princes. Expecting the princess to be rescued after going out hunting, instead comes back to all their treasure meticulasly sorted by origin, color, and value.
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She's pretty quiet for a princess, the dragon thought while gliding against the wind, his eyes scanning for prey. He hadn't kidnapped many, but they usually bawl their eyes out or throw a tantrum. She's obviously scared, though. Well, better so she doesn't cause trouble.
His eyes spot a lone moose. Jackpot.
He's looking forward to a quiet night with a full belly after a good day's work. Those knights better have left behind no less than the ransom he demanded when they take their quiet princess back.
\-----------ᓚᘏᗢ-----------
The dragon, now in human form, walks into the mudroom and drops the moose. He removes his shoes, then goes straight to the receiving room to count what was owed him.
He scanned the room. The princess was gone. But no ransom had been left behind on the table placed there specifically for that purpose.
He went around the room to check, just in case those asshole knights have played a trick and hid the ransom somewhere else.
They didn't leave the fucking ransom.
The dragon felt his fury flush through his chest up to his face. He'll make them pay their dues. He is owed-
"Master?"
The dragon turned around and saw the princess standing at the doorway.
"They haven't taken you back?"
She went pale. He saw how still she became, her body frozen in fear.
"What is it?" He impatiently said.
She took an involuntary swallow. "I- I'm Mara, master."
"Is that supposed to mean something?"
"Her h-highness's name is A-Annabelle." Her voice almost as wispy as a whisper. "I a-am her m-m-maid."
The dragon stood there, peering down at her.
"Why are you wearing a fancy dress, then?"
She takes a deep breath. "Milady w-wanted me to wear her old clothes because she says they're still pretty and it would be a shame to imprison them in a closet when she can still admire them while I wear them since we have the same size. She says she likes trying out new hair coifs on my hair so she sees them before she has to sit through something she is not sure she will like."
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I managed to hunt down an ogre, and manticore today.
Quite the haul.
Bringing them back to my lair, I was quite expecting to see some knights, mages coming for the princess I kidnapped.
Unfortunately, there was nobody but the princess there, and she was...cleaning?
Oh my...my hoard!
Why is it even shinier? And why does it seem so much...smaller? Less?
"What have you done?!" I ask her.
"Master, I have cleaned the house, and organized your items.
Gold, jewelry, rare stones, and currency is in the northern part of the cave.
Tomes, scrolls, books, articles, diaries and knowledge objects are in the west.
Artefacts, weapons, and large objects are in the south.
Herbs, elixirs, pills, and living beings are in the east." she said, slightly bowing.
I squinted my eyes, taking a closer look at her.
She wore a rather stuffy dress, black and white with frills.
Oh my...
"You aren't a princess, are you?" I asked.
She shook her head.
"As I told Master as we were flying away, I am just a maid." she politely said.
"As if I could hear you with all that wind!
And why are you calling me Master?!" I shouted.
"I see, makes sense you didn't hear me.
And I call you Master, because you feed me, house me, and basically the same as before.
I called the Princess, "Your Majesty", but I thought "master" would suit Sir better." she said.
I sighed.
I took on my human form, and stared down at her.
Her eyes shone as she stared back at me.
"Fine.
Do you want to go back?
I wanted to kidnap the princess to extort something from the royal family, but I guess that ain't going to happen." I said.
"Oh no, I am quite happy here." she smiled, looking me up and down.
I shivered.
"Listen..." I started, but before I could a loud noise echoed through my lair.
"Where is little bon-bon!!" a woman's voice boomed.
I stared at the entrance of my lair, seeing a small army approaching, then back at the maid.
"The Princess, may or may not like me a bit too much.
But I like here better, so I will go to explain." she said, smiling, bowing and going towards the army.
I sighed, massaging my temple.
"Who...Who is the owner of this place?
Whatever...too much hassle, but I have to admit, this place looks much nicer than before." I muttered, watching my hoard, before going after the woman, lest more problems happen.
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[WP] "Demonic tradition states that as punishment for your disobedience, I must bestow a curse on you. Common sense dictates that you were absolutely correct to disobey me. So, human, I have decided to burden you with the most inconsequential of curses..."
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*unf*
This is the part they don’t tell you after the epic story.
*unf*
I challenged a supernatural being. I pitted my mortal wit against the source of a billion billion sufferings. I stood for a moral rightness in the universe because it was the only possible option in the face of omniscience, omnipotence, and immortality.
*unf*
And he let me go. I saved the very fabric of reality from destruction. The Church let me know I’ll be considered for sainthood as soon as I die, which is neat, I guess. There are statues of me in hundreds of city squares. I’m greeted by piles of flowers and offerings outside of my shotgun house in NOLA every morning, though the parish government has been nice enough to keep them off of the property.
*unf*
I still work, you know. After the TV appearances slowed down, the book was written, and the goodwill tour of the planet, I went back to trading rare books online again. I’ve been staying away from Latin texts, though. No reason to tempt fate a second time.
*unf*
No, the real downside came after the Legions of Hell had been halted at the sulfurous portals and turned back when I posed my famous question to Lucifer. When he paused to consider it. When he admitted I had a point.
*unf*
It’s even a little embarrassing. Of all the titles, honorifics, gifts, and privileges I’ve been given… this is the legacy I endure every day until I die. “The most inconsequential of curses…” he’d said before turning his massive, hulking form back to whence he came.
*unf*
I catch my pants on EVERYTHING. Drawer pulls, door knobs, sticks, trash cans, car doors; you name it, and I’ve lost a belt loop to it. Simple answer is dresses, right? Oooh no, they get caught, too, and they aren’t nearly as durable. Just walk around in my underwear? Well, they still get caught on everything and you can’t exactly greet the Patriarch of Constantinople bottom-half nude.
*unf*
I tried walking slowly. Only in open spaces. Smoothing corners, pocket doors, extra wide thresholds. Nope.
*unf*
I still get stuck. Probably tear holes in at least a half a dozen sets of pants a week. That’s what you don’t hear about because people will believe you spoke to Satan, that you turned back a demon horde, and call you The Golden Voice of Jesus without blinking. Name their kids after you! But they’ll never believe that all the busted belt loops on your pants are caused metaphysically.
*unf*
And that’s the worst part.
*unf*
Damn it.
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"Demonic tradition (and law) states that as punishment for your disobedience, I must afflict you with a curse. However, you are absolutely correct to disobey me. So, human, I have to obey the law while being true to the spirit of my demonic nature."
"So you're not going to curse me?" The man asked.
"I'm sorry, th-this is difficult to explain. You see the law states I have to punish you for disobeying me, but as a demon, disobeying is a good thing. It's what we expect of one another. So, you not disobeying is more akin to our . . . mojo, our way of life. Technically, not obeying me should earn you a reward rather than a punishment. But then again, we are demons, so a punishment to us is kind of a reward. We're both sadists and masochists."
"I'm confused. Am I being rewarded or punished?" The man wearily inquired.
"Yes."
"Yes which?"
"Yes, you will be punished, and you will be rewarded. It's the only fair way to handle this." The demon placed a crystal in the socket for the sorcerous circle he'd laid out, then gave the man an apologetic shrug.
"If you're going to punish me and reward me, shouldn't they just cancel each other out. Wouldn't it be okay to just let me go?" The man was desperate.
"Look, I get it. You're scared slash delighted with this outcome. It's true that good and bad cancel each other out, but only if they are in equal proportions. Your crime and good deed aren't. Your crime is disobedience. It has serious cost and consequences. Most devils would have flayed you then salted your wounds. The law overrules that and leaves it at just being cursed. You disobeying me is a good thing from a demonic point of view. It means you've really embraced our way of life. But at the same time, disobeying me means you did something that could be considered good to our enemies. They'll make fliers and hold you up as an example to others and write catchy slogans like "resist bad" or something like that. Your good example doesn't negate your sin of righteousness. Therefore, your punishment will just be a little bit lighter. No oozing unhealable wounds for you."
"Okay, now I'm terrified and bored." The man yawned hugely even while his hands and knees trembled.
"I've decided to burden you with the most inconsequential curse I can think of."
"To be Mila Kunis boy toy?"
"You wish. No, I'm cursing you to be Donald Trump's diet coke boy."
"Nooooo! Please, anything but that. What about that flaying? Is that still on the table?" The man pleaded desperately.
The devil shook his head slowly then suddenly looked up at a flashing light on the wall.
"Oh look, Donald's thirsty." The demon smiled evily as the curse he cast on the man suddenly took effect and forced him to go find a diet coke in hell (where they belong).
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[WP] After mistakenly transfering to a high school for monsters, you try to tell them that you're just a regular human. However, because of bizarre coincidences creating apparently inexplicable situations, the school population and teachers come to believe you're actually an Eldritch Abomination
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"Did Selenia the Siren lose her voice for a whole month after you told her to shut up and stop hypnotising the boys?" The discipline mistress, Ms. Maven, loomed over me with her imposing centaur build.
"It's a coincidence! I didn't jinx her!"
"So you admit to telling her to shut up."
"Yea I did. Was getting so cringey watching the boys fawn over her."
"Did you use eldritch magic to send Damien into the void? The poor vampire remains traumatised after several months!"
"No, I just pushed him into some bushes when he would not stop flirting with me. How am I supposed to know there was a portal to the void hidden there?"
"Because you made that portal!"
"No I didn't!"
"Did you respond to that eldritch summoning circle that your classmates conjured?" Ms. Maven clacked her hooves as she gazed at me.
I shook my head. "I just came across it and told them to clean up their mess before a real eldritch god showed up and demanded sacrifices."
"Like your father?"
"I'm a human and so is my dad! How many times must I tell you this is a big mistake! I was supposed to enroll in Portsmouth High school, not Innsmouth!"
Ms. Maven's hooves clicked as she snorted. "Everyone knows your father here."
"My dad is not who you think he is."
She pulled out a stack of folders from below her desk and slammed them in front of me. Flipping through with one eye glaring at me.
"You could be honest with us for once. It says your father is Elliot Livera. And everyone knows that's just Lord Elvari's civilian identity."
Oh. So that's how it is.
"My father is Elliot Rivera the accountant! Not Elliot Livera the eldritch god!"
"An eldritch accountant," Ms. Maven stated flatly.
I simmered in my seat, feeling the sweltering heat despite the cold outside.
"Human accountant. From Portsmouth City."
The centaur wasn't convinced. "We'll call your father and we'll see who shows up."
I groaned and crossed my arms. Tapping my foot against the floor, waiting for my dad to finally appear and tell her it was all one big error from a typo error.
"Ms. Maven? Did you call me regarding my daughter?"
She looked smug, rearing up to her full height, while i shrunk in my seat when this tentacled creature slithered into the office.
"That's not my father!" I yelped and shot up from my seat.
"That's not my daughter either," declared the eldritch entity.
"It says here that she is Jane Livera," the discipline mistress whimpered when the eldritch god pulled her face close to his with his tentacles.
"Rivera," Lord Elvari corrected her with a death glare. "My Jane still keeps her old family name from before I adopted her. That was her choice. So there isn't a Jane Livera in Innsmouth." With an oddly inviting smile, he extended a hand to me, "Come, little one. Let's get you back to Portsmouth and talk to the actual school you wanted to register for, shall we?"
---
[Thanks for reading! Click here for more prompt responses and short stories featuring Elvari the eldritch god.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/comments/11tkt9w/eldritch_god_elvari_series/)
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The halls were abuzz with unkind beings of every stripe. Ghosts hovered above ogres, and demons scrambled along the walls to bypass the crowds, their clawed feet and hands scratching against the aging stone.
Calumn had learned on his first day that he didn’t belong here. His mother and father were solicitors from Shropshire. They were ordinary professions, but when Calumn learned that his study buddy was the son of an eternal nightmare that imagined itself into existence at the dawning of the first day, Calumn got a sense that their illustrious careers in law would not quite stand up.
What Calumn had never expected was the respect he received from his peers. Indeed, months later, Calumn shivered at the thought of returning to his private school. His new fellow students - demons, ogres, spirits and worse - had never seen a being like Calumn before. The dimensions they occupied were blissfully unaware of humanity.
It did not take long for the school to be abuzz with the talk of this Hyoo-Man boy named Calumn. A few of the sharper pupils, themselves violent manifestations of the darkness that lived within the souls of a species called “Crogsnacks”, consulted the deeper sections of the library, in search of knowledge on this new, interdimensional being. What they found would have drained the blood from their cheeks, had they been burdened with blood, cheeks or indeed faces.
When Calumn arrived for his next lesson, the whole class had questions, including the professor. Misshapen ghouls of every permutation floated, slumped, hung and hovered near his desk, showing him sketches and pictures from dusty books, smuggled from the recesses of the school library.
“It is true, Calumn the Hyoo-man, that your people live in a perpetual state of violence?”
Calumn shrugged. He had learned that silence was his greatest weapon. The crowd fell into excited whispers, before another stepped forward.
“And that even amongst families, amongst friends, torture and violence is commonplace in your world”
This didn’t seem fair. Yes, probably, brother killed brother every day on earth, but there were almost 7 billion humans. This had always seemed like a tragic but inevitable consequence of mathematics, although he was forced to ask himself why violence was such a surety in his world. Calumn opened his mouth to respond, but remembered the success of his silence, and settled for another stoic nod.
“And you created this?”, the professor gasped. He turned the book around, to reveal a black and white sketch on an aging page. It showed buildings, half destroyed, in the wake of a great shockwave that tore through them, and above the shockwave, a cloud that reached into the sky and blocked out the sun. Its distinct mushroom shape, and the inscription below the image, told Calumn that he was looking at Nagasaki on August 6th 1945.
“Yes, that’s the Atom bomb”, Calumn said, before he could stop himself from speaking.
The professor sat back on his chair, and the glasses slipped from his long, hooked beak. He mouthed the words “Atom bomb”. It had never once occurred to him, a bird-demon from a realm that had been splitting atoms since the time before the great purge, to turn that act into a force of indescribable violence. He looked up at the class, and then at Calumn. These people, these Hyoo-mans, were the most brutal beings he had ever encountered.
\----
​
Went in a weird direction with it!
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[WP] Destroying 90% human population on earth, the aliens leave, assuming that society would crumble, and remaining 10% will just all fight for resources and eventually die out. They returned a thousand years later, expecting a cleansed planet, but were met with a nuclear strike from a satellite.
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They could have just waited. Humanity was already on the verge of destroying itself. Earth's climate was on the verge of collapse under the weight of our exploding population. All they did was buy us time. Time to build a new society. One built with sustainability in mind.
A society built, also, on a foundation of technological supremacy. After the great slaughter, those who remained knew the tech gap between us and the outsiders was the main reason for their victory, and they made a solemn vow to the dead that we would never be outpaced again.
They recovered the sole outsider craft the militaries of the old world managed to down and spent decades researching the remains. Replicating the outsiders technology. Surpassing it.
The nuclear launch platform we put it orbit was a vestige of the old world. Meant only to disable the outsider mothership when it returns. To prepare it for boarding. To pave the way for a new slaughter.
Those bastards expected us to die of hunger, but we got hungry for something besides food. We got thirsty for something besides water. We always knew they would return, and when they do, we will slake our thirst on their blood. We will follow their warp trail to their homeworld, and visit upon them the vengeance of humanity.
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No one saw it coming. One day a lot of \*stars\* appeared in the sky. They got bigger and larger and all of humanity freaked out once they got close enough. They were ships of some sort of alien civilization and without any warning or reason they started destroying everything.
With all large cities destroyed, at least 90% of the population perished with no way to resist, another 9% were injured and homeless - only a few sparsely populated countryside remained intact.
It only took a few generations for modern cities to rise again. Humanity did not give up. In threat of greater enemy all racial differences were put aside, no more racism, no political struggles between countries, no more pointless conflicts and wars.
A few more generations later the earth population was restored to former glory, earthlings once again focused on improving tools of war - nuclear weapons and other technologies. But this time they were not aiming them to different countries or continents - they were trying to think of a way to protect their home - Earth.
Eventually a few more generations have passed and aliens have returned to visit the planet, thinking the last of the intelligent race should have perished by now, and planet natural resources restored.
This time there were no \*stars\* in the sky - earthlings detected them as soon as they entered their galaxy. Humanity's defense started upon reaching the solar system - all satellites orbiting around had sufficient firepower to destroy large comets, never mind some space ships. Aliens certainly did not see that coming.
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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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The Wolfman shook cowardly and let out a soft whimper, and Sir Arnold paused..a look of confusion crossing over his face. The townsfolk behind Arnold gasped as he stepped closer to it, lowering the sword ever so slightly. Surely, this had to be the foul beast that had been eating their goats and ravaging their farms for the last six weeks. But his sword never lied, and this creature looked petrified of him. "Speak creature!
So we understand what your true intentions are!" The Wolfman gazed at him warily then stood up to its full height. It was still shaking, and as it spoke, its deep burly voice trembled. "Me....s-s-sorry." It sputtered out, and everyone gasped again, shock and awe filled the crowd as it suddenly broke down crying.
"Just wanted to pet goats. Not eat! Me not the monster!" Arnold stood there slackjawed as the Wolfman buried its head in its hands."What sort of trickery is this?" He asked, still unsure of whether to believe what he was hearing or not.
"No trick, please no hurt me." Arnold sighed then looked out across the sea of people. "What do you all want me to do?! It's clearly not a threat, and I'm not gonna stab it! I don't want its blood on my sword!"
Everyone glared angrily at him, and people began to shout things like "kill it anyway" and "it deserves to die" before the Wolfman spoke up again. "Me not an 'it!' My name Rod!" Arnold looked between Rod and the townspeople, drawing nearer. Then he did the one thing no one would have expected.
He turned, drew his sword on the mob, then looked at his newfound friend as his sword glowed brightly. "Well then, Rod, I suggest you RUN!"
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[WP] Being invisible has its perks, but you can't exactly sign a lease. As such, you've become quite the expert lockpick to always have a place to sleep. When you settled into the cozy lake cabin to get out of the rain, you hear "We've been expecting you" from the shadows.
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"Honestly, nothing beats the feeling of settling into a cozy place after you've been out in the rain, especially if you spend most of your day naked. Walking in and hearing the splashing of droplets hitting the ground fade to white noise almost makes you want to curl up right then and there.
I couldn't, though - I had work to do.
As I usually do, I grabbed some kindling from beside the fireplace, popped it in, and lit a match, before settling down into a lovely, perfectly-made bed. I know what you're thinking - "didn't you break into here?" - and, well, yeah. I kind of live here, though.
(There used to be a lovely couple - bordering on their 70s, if I had to guess - that came here on the weekends. One day, only one of them came over, so I sat on the chair next to the old woman's bed, put on her husband's clothes, and started screaming. She sprinted to her car, and now I own the place. I'm a horrible person, I know.)
Speaking of the work, though. Squatting is a hard job. This place is nice and all, but sometimes one desires more than a tiny hut by the lake. Plus, I'm a bit less nimble than I once was, so I could use a retirement plan that was a bit more, like, a mansion. In other words, I'm planning a heist.
"We've been expecting you."
Oh god. Not the invisible salespeople. One more advertisement for-
Somewhere in the room behind me, a window broke. Probably not the salespeople, on second thought.
Then, screaming that sort of evoked the term "battle cry." The bedroom door flopped down into the room, kicking up a concerning, if cinematic, amount of dust. When it all cleared, a somewhat elderly woman wearing socks with sandals stood dramatically, one foot extended towards where the door once was.
oh.
She started screaming. I couldn't make out much, but I think it was mostly swears.
**oh no.**
"Getting sucker-punched by a 70-year-old woman" was not on my bucket list, but I guess I had it coming.
Obviously, I booked it out the door.
Then I got another beatdown from her husband - guess I misinterpreted the situation a little bit.
Also, a free ride to prison.
5 years later, and that's about how I got here."
The room, which, to an outside observer, seemed to only consist of a ring of empty chairs, suddenly erupted with the sound of people snapping.
"Thanks for sharing, Mark. Remember, folks, Invisible Trespassers Anonymous is a safe space. You're welcome to share anything here."
"Thanks, everyone. Really, thanks. I'm not sure what I'd have done without your guys' support."
I never got the mansion that I had hoped for, but I do have some actual friends now, which has been nice. Overall, would have the crap kicked out of me by two senior citizens again.
*(first attempt at answering a writing prompt, compliments/criticism/anything welcome)*
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His fingers flying across the keys, Corey placed a sentinel into memory. The bot program would monitor any sectors that changed while he explored the system and overwrite them, rendering him invisible. He always felt a strange elation when he managed to slip past heavy crypto into the cold inner sectors of a data store. He was aware of every nerve in his body as he slowly and methodically typed the command that would expand his neural mesh through the data store like a gas. L O A D B L O C K 0. The instant he submitted the command, seemingly almost before, an icy exhilaration rushed over his flesh. His mind melted into a fluid that enveloped every bit of data in the sector. Jackpot. The datastore was a relatively small one, only a couple of exabytes, but it was precisely what he came for. Block after block of clean, freshly minted currency.
If there was any feeling more thrilling than finding something, anything of value in the "System" as it was called, it was that of being right. He had noticed a pattern in this sector of the System. In a heavily encrypted region of data, any recognizable pattern indicated a weakness. You could watch a slab of properly scrambled data for a thousand years and see nothing but static. But here he had noticed what his interpreter translated to his mind as a ripple on the surface of still, blue water. He had written the sentinel program based on this flaw and it had worked like magic, he was in.
He flew up through sector after sector of transaction data. Account numbers. Identifiers corresponding to other datastores. He still had work to do before he could extract anything. He was in, but he needed create a way out. A space in the data just big enough for him to extract a nice chunk of currency. He moved like a ray of light through the data. Parsing it, beginning to understand its structure. Then there was stillness. The wall of transaction data that had flowed down his viewport froze. "Shit." He tried to bail, but his console was unresponsive. Then, in stark white text against the black abyss of empty sectors there appeared: W E ' V E B E E N E X P E C T I N G Y O U...
Static filled his mind. The contents of the console began to fragment before his eyes. The pixels melted as he stared, frozen, unable to move. Suddenly, a low rumble broke through, a deep oscillating warble that broke his trance. It was the auditory escape hatch from the interpreter. A 60 Hz sine wave that broke through the random signals flooding his nerves from the data store. His arms were heavy as lead. he managed to reach up and snatch the system link off his head. He threw himself sidewards off the edge of the bed toward the power unit that ran the uplink. He grabbed a handful of cables and pulled as hard as he could. The slow whine of the uplink powering off was a relief, but a jagged panic tore through his chest. Over and over, he saw the images of the console pixellating and tearing as the meaning became increasingly real. It was all gone. Of course the code of the sentinel was destroyed, but also was every bit of data he had loaded when he pierced that datastore. Weeks worth of code. Most of it new bots. Hot code that would've made him a killing. Gone.
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[WP] As the god of reincarnations, when neither Hell nor Heaven want a soul, it is your job to reincarnate it appropriately. One specific soul keeps coming back to you not so long after each reincarnation. After a while, you decide to investigate why the soul keeps coming back to you.
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Technicalities. That's how this tortured one keeps coming to my office. That's the conclusion I've come to after investigating this case. Hell rejects the goody goodies, and Heaven rejects anyone who deliberately ends his life prematurely.
The trouble is, this soul seems to desire Heaven, but also has chronic terminal depression. So, in every life he's lived, he does his best. Seriously; if Heaven would just make an exception to their suicide clause, this guy would probably own **several** mansions!
In his first life, he deliberately got himself martyred during the Reformation. There are multiple churches built in his honor, but since he chose the fire, Heaven denied him entry.
In his second life, he was a cat. The guy used his body mass to fling a child away from a horse carriage, and he got himself run over in the process.
In his third life, he was human again. The guy ran into a burning building and saved a child, but died afterwards from smoke inhalation.
Fourth life; he was a dog. Rescued a drowning victim and drowned himself.
Fifth life; human again. Threw himself on a grenade.
Sixth life; squirrel. Saved a toddler from rabid raccoon. Died from infection.
Seventh life; human again. This time, he lived to sixty-three, but took poisoned medicine to save a relative.
I look up from my paperwork. This old soul in front of me has crying eyes, but is smiling for my sake. I feel like I'm guilty just by being in his presence. I'm at a loss for what to do; I don't have override authority. There's no appeal process that I can use for him.
So, I do the only thing I can for him. I haven't done this in millennia. I summon my books and refresh my memory.
Looks like the world is getting one last unicorn.
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Ye gods and little catfish, not again!
This can’t be happening! I’ve done everything I could: sent them to the finest places, made sure they were born with everything they’d need to lead a long, fruitful life, nudged them to make the choices to finally, finally, have a certain path to one afterlife or the other.
But there they sit (well, float), with their beady little eyes, looking smugly at me. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. My bosses are breathing down my neck to get this one assigned to its proper afterlife. If I can’t get it to … no, I can’t think like that. There must be a way!
“What is it you want? What will it take to get you to live long enough to have a meaningful existence, either for good or for evil? Why won’t you make a choice?!” I plead.
The soul looks at me. I could swear there was a grin on its face, tho it’s hard to see thru the shimmer that surrounds it.
It sits there (well, floats), mocking me in silence. Why? Why won’t it just do what it’s supposed to? All the others have done it right, however long or brief their stay might be, never taking more than one or two reincarnations to have a decision made. A few might have taken three or four times. But 96? What in the name of Heaven or Hell was going on?
I look down at its file. Good and evil, both of equal weight. To the gram. It was almost like-
Wait, was it? Was it deliberately keeping the balance so that it would be reincarnated again and again? But why? Heaven was so…peaceful. And Hell, well, I could imagine why nobody would want to end up there. Still, it couldn’t keep up the effort forever, sooner or later it would make a mistake and the balance would shift. Wouldn’t it? It was there each time for so short a cycle that it seemed like it couldn’t possibly have the opportunity to make a difference.
I looked up in frustration at the soul again. It looked back at me, waiting somewhat impatiently.
I sighed and leaned back in my chair.
“Ok ok. Once more into the grind. But please, work with me here. Stick around for awhile. And for god’s sake, keep away from flyswatters!”
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j53ju8p
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j52zw4s
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[WP] You are the only S-Class (god-like) mutant at a school of super powered youngsters. Only the head master knows, and you try like hell to keep it a secret. But one day, that all changed...
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"Spontaneous self-directed anomalous mutation."
​
Despairo paused his pummeling of the PE teacher Mr. Stevens (AKA Brawn)'s face as I spoke "What?" he said, confusion evident despite the mask over his face that pumped him full of some super-human drug or other.
​
"You asked why Mr. Stevens was so desperate to keep me from entering the fight even though I have my provisional hero license." I answered, my voice remarkably steady considering how hard my heart was pounding. "He doesn't want me to fight because that is my power."
​
"Spontaneous..." Despairo repeated slowly, "What does that even mean?" The villain dropped Mr. Stevens to the cracked and broken ground and stepped over the remains of some of the crushed gym equipment towards me.
I could see the other through the broken wall of the gym, running for all they were worth towards the main building of the school. Good, no witnesses who didn't already know.
​
"Spontaneous self-directed anomalous mutation," I repeated, reaching inside myself to feel the seals I myself had placed upon my power, loosening them just slightly. "One of only-"
​
I cut off as Despairo suddenly shot forward and landed a solid punch to my face, bones crunched and flesh tore as the superhuman fist impacted my skull...
​
And shattered. Every bone in Despairo's right arm was broken and ground to pieces as his overpowered strike answered the question of what happens when a nearly-unstoppable force meets an immovable object.
​
Despairo stumbled backward, howling and clutching at his ruined right hand. I could see clearly where the hand had split when it hit my face. Depending on the formula of whatever Despairo was breathing, that arm would probably heal soon enough, though it not being natural regeneration it would likely be beyond painful.
​
There was a horrid cracking and popping noise from Despairo's arm as the bones began to knit back together. So a pretty potent healing factor then. Oh well, I probably had a couple of minutes.
​
"As I was saying." I continued in my best deadpan delivery. "One of the only S-Class rated powers ever registered." At that the little bit of Despairo's flesh I could see around his gas mask paled, though he didn't give any other signs of fear. I couldn't really blame him for not believing me, the only other S-Class power confirmed was held by the First Hero, back at the beginning of the 2030s, and that power was the root of all other abilities and the source of the current superhero society.
​
Despairo lunged at me again, this time his hand closed around my head, attempting to hold me down no doubt.
​
His newly healed fingers only contacted air as I stepped around him. I held up his gas mask and attached hoses, inspecting the labels on the bottle of whatever gas he was using. I'd want to show this to the headmaster and the science teacher, Ms. Breacher.
​
Despairo gasped and started coughing as the highly addictive chemicals were suddenly withdrawn. He jerked forward, snatching vainly at the apparatus in my hands. I held up a finger and he froze in place, eyes wide with belated terror.
​
"My power," I said, reaching out to heal Mr. Stevens with one hand, while questing out with my mind to wipe this conversation from Despairo's memory. "Is the ability to grant myself any power I can imagine."
​
By the time the other faculty members had arrived, Despairo was lying on the ground, with a bench press bar bent around him as a makeshift restraint. Mr. Steven's got the credit publicly of course, he would never have been defeated by someone like Despairo in the first place if he hadn't had to worry about the rest of the class. The memories I planted in both Despairo and Mr. Steven's minds were plausible enough.
​
The small but vital role I played in the capture of a wanted criminal was a bit of vanity to add to the story, I admit, but what can I say? I was still a teenager at the the time, can you blame me for wanting a bit of credit?
|
I'm just a normal kid. I try to live my life everyday and not muck anyone else's day up. It's hard sometimes, being as powerful as I am, but I hide it well. As far as everyone else knows, I'm a B-class mutant. A little above average, but nothing to write home about. My power is simple. I can walk through walls. It keeps me out of trouble, allows me to escape any A-class bullies, and generally makes life simpler.
Except that's not my power. Never has been. It's just the cover that the headmaster helped me come up with. No, my power is a little different than that. I'm able to control the molecular makeup of objects in realtime. So, for my wall walking, I simply move the atoms of the wall around so that I can pass through them and then put them back together. I've gotten quite good at it. My private lessons with the headmaster have seen me able to turn an entire car into a metal infinity cube. I'm not able to change the molecular makeup, per se. Just able to rearrange things. I can make wooden sculptures out of trees or ice sculptures out of pools of water. Oh, yeah, I'm also able to change the state of the matter. Heating it up or cooling it off rapidly. I had even mastered the art of turning myself into a gas for short periods of time.
My range had gotten better, too. I used to have to touch things; that's why the headmaster suggested walking through walls. Now I can do it from up to thirty feet away. The headmaster advised me to keep all of this a secret. I'm the only S-class mutant in the country other than him. There are constant threats on his life because of his status. He said it's best I lay low until I have a firm enough grasp on my powers to defend myself. I never knew if that day would come. I still had to sleep, after all. Was I supposed to sleep in an impenetrable cocoon?
But, today was the day the world found out about me. Today was the day that I had to come out of my shell. And it wasn't by choice. The headmaster had been killed. The killer was roaming the halls of the school, class by class, taking as many lives as she could. I couldn't stand by while my classmates were slaughtered. I had to do something. I was the only one that could.
I stepped out into the hallway to see the witch who had killed the headmaster. She was flinging red bolts of lightning into a classroom of screaming children. I knew who she was. She went by Scarlett. I could tell from the crimson outfit and the flowing red hair. She was an S-class mutant from Europe who thought all lesser mutants should be exterminated. Even A-class mutants weren't strong enough for her. High level A-class mutants she could stomach, but anything less than S-class was seen as unsatisfactory.
"Hey!" I yelled. "Pick on someone your own size, eh?" I began walking toward her.
"You dare step to me? And what are you? A telepath, perhaps? Your kind are always so full of themselves." She launched a red bolt at me. I rearranged my own molecules so that it passed through me. I heard it blast into the wall behind me and the bricks falling from the impact.
"Oh? A phaser? Interesting. So you're going to... what? Walk through me? Steal my beating heart out of my chest? Phasers have limits, you know. You always have to keep one part of the bottom of your feet solid. Or else you'll just fall," she said delicately.
She raised her hands and I felt a warm sensation from my feet. I looked down to see red pooling there. I shifted myself to a gas before a red pillar launched up underneath me. Another neat trick the headmaster had suggested. I shifted my body around the pillar and continued floating toward her. Unless she knew what to look for, I was completely invisible. Which she didn't. She thought I was a low-level phaser. She let out an evil cackle. She turned to launch a bolt into the classroom to her left again. Her final mistake.
I shifted back into my corporeal form and shouted, "You missed!" before shifting her into a small, tight box. It was all of her matter condensed into a small cube about two feet thick. I had made sure to keep all the icky parts inside because blech. All that was left was a scarlet box. And now the school would know my secret. That was okay, though. I was ready to face the world for who I truly was. I was a god. And it was time I started acting like it.
\---------------------------------
Let me know what you thought! Any feedback is welcome and appreciated. <3
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j53l5en
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j53hbu9
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[WP] You are the only S-Class (god-like) mutant at a school of super powered youngsters. Only the head master knows, and you try like hell to keep it a secret. But one day, that all changed...
|
To most of the public, the S-Class are the elite of the elite. The strongest heroes and most feared villains. But while most powerful young A and even B tier mutants get publicity equal to a Hollywood star, no one has ever seen a child S-Class. This has understandably led to various conspiracies ranging from the S-Class being biologically engineered by the government to them being aliens from a destroyed planet.
As an S-Class myself I can firmly say that's false, unless my dad meant something different when he said it was time for the talk. Anyway, the thing about S-Class is that unlike other mutants we don't have a set level of power. For instance, an F-Class pyrotechnic can only light up a candle or boil water at best while an A-Class can create fire swords hot enough to cut steal like butter. Meanwhile an S-Class mutant might not even be able to make a glass of water lukewarm or they could burn down an entire city based solely on how much blue they've seen that day. All S-Class mutations have a paranormal factor controlling every aspect of the ability from raw power to skill. That's the reason we keep ourselves hidden, for fear that if the truth comes out everyone would go out of their way to find and exploit our weaknesses.
This is why the government personally issues us false class rankings based on how much control we have over our abilities. Once we finish high school we get ranked by a judge and given a rank equivalent to a normal class unless we go beyond to which we receive the right to say we're S-class. Personally, I'd like to avoid that burden.
I guess I should explain my ability first. My mutation is known as Genie. It allows me to request three abilities every day which each come with a related weakness. For instance I could wish for fire breath but in turn I'd melt if I got hit by water. Or I could ask for invisibility but I'd become blind. Currently, I've found three abilities that work best for me.
1. Ability: Echolocation, Weakness: Blindness
2. Ability: Flight, Weakness: Paralyzed legs
3. Ability: Sonic Scream, Weakness: Can't lower my voice.
These three abilities put my firmly in the bottom of B-Class at my high school. I'm strong enough not to get picked on by A-Class bullies but also weak enough that no one makes me join their club. It's pretty sweet.
"Sup bat boy!" Anne calls out.
"It's The Human Bat" I sign.
Anne is near the top of B rank who I'd generally avoid but she's one of the only kids in the school who understands sign language so what can you do? Her ability Raptor gives her all the powers of a bird of prey such as super flight, talons, enhanced eyesight, and super kicks. She plans to debut as Owl Lass and offered me the chance to become her sidekick which I gladly accepted.
"Ready for the mock battle Andrew." She continues. "Those A-Class brats won't know what hit them."
"An over confidant pigeon and a flying mouse" Gale shot back with a gust of wind, hearing Anne's remark as she walked by.
"Well excuse you. I'm an owl thank you very much. Over confidant pigeons are what I have for breakfast."
"Yeah yeah. No one asked for the taxonomy lesson. Just know the skies will be ours during the battle" Steven replies.
"Is every flying mutant in this hall way?" I sign.
"Uh, you should watch out for us too." Pedro intervenes, two other C-Class flyers behind him.
"Looks like it." Anne signs back smirking.
"Ok enough everyone." Leyla shouts from the ceiling she's walking on. We'll all see who rules the skies tomorrow.
None of us knew how right she was that day. Sadly, it wasn't the only thing we learned.
Part 2 coming soon.
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Mimic
I'm not looking for a complex life, but that's really hard when life wants to make you complex. Mutants are rare in this society. Only about 1 in every 100,000 has some kind of abnormality about them. Some developed flight, super strength, telekinesis, etc. Simple things you know? My odds were slim, but I was born with a mutation. But it's complex... Messy.
If I could put it simply I can shapeshift. But it goes a little farther. I can copy the genetic makeup of any living thing I touch. I can create, replicate, copy, and manipulate the cells in my body to pretty much do whatever I need them to do. There are other shape shifters out there but they're powers only extend to shifting from one form to another, my shifting is more fluid.
But it didn't start out this way. My body would randomly shift and turn into grotesque looking forms. I tried to hide it from my parents but the day I almost devoured the family dog because we were having a territorial dispute was the day I couldn't risk their safety. So I left.
When the headmaster found me, he knew instantly what I could do. I never even told him, he just knew. like two apex predators we could sense each other and what the other was capable of. I don't know exactly what the headmaster can do, but I know that if we ever fought the city, or at the very least the surrounding area would not survive.
The first words he ever spoke to me were,"How do you feel?" A simple question with a not so simple answer. "Like I have the power of life itself in the palm of my hand. I can be whatever and whoever I want. I have the instincts of every creature on earth. I could probably cure every known disease or create a poise that kills the whole earth. It all a huge weight to bear. But I don't want any of it, I just want to live the way everyone else does. But that seems like an impossibility and I don't know what to do." The headmaster didn't say anything as I continued to talk about my problems. Problems that no one in the world has. When I was finished he simply said. "Then let me help you carry this burden, as long as it is yours.
Over the next year I worked with the headmaster to hone my mutation and push it's limits. The mutation that was on my official paperwork was simple shape shifting. We had decided that a chameleon was the only thing I could shift into, due to my fondness for reptiles and slight jealousy that they could fade into the background. As time passed I could shift different parts of my body into different forms. Growing new appendages was hard at first, painful even, but the headmaster helped me broaden my horizons and think outside the box by removing the pain receptors in that part of my body, then growing the new limb was painless and the pain receptors could be grown in after. It even got to the point where I could create cells that could harmlessly enter a human body via skin contact, have those cells create copies and then retrieve them back to my own body and duplicate the copies endlessly. Thus I could shift into anything and anyone and even use their powers if they also had a mutation.
Progress was slow but I eventually became a living embodiment of what genetics were really capable of. But this isn't the life I wanted. I wanted simple, so I pretended I was just a simple guy with a simple mutation. Until came the day when I couldn't pretend any more.
The Kaiju that attacked San Francisco was big. No one knew where it had come from, only that it rose from the ocean one day and descended upon the city like an avalanche descends on a helpless climber. The military was quick to respond but they were no match for the behemoth. It tore through buildings, bridges and anything that stood in it's way. Nothing could stand up to this monster, even with every mutant working together, it wouldn't be enough. There was nothing that anyone could do. We'll... Almost nothing.
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j2nq30v
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j2ndp33
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[WP] „It‘s not what it looks like!“, your girlfriend shouts with panic in her voice, after you walked in on her in the bathroom and stare in shock at the remaining upper half of her body. Her lower half has turned into some sparkling goo that is slowly running down the drain.
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Daniel sighed, heavily, as he watched his girlfriend dissolving in the bathtub. Her attempts at explaining the situation away had turned into incomprehensible gurgling almost immediately, as her sudden panic accelerated her condition, and she became an increasingly amorphous mass of sparkling jelly.
*She's sick. She's sick, and I love her,* he reminded himself.
She'd been so desperate she'd forgotten to plug the drain first, he noted. He didn't panic -- that was what the special drain trap he'd had a plumber install in the basement was for. He'd just let her go, and then empty the trap into the big plastic basin he bought for that purpose. Then he'd wait for her to come back to him.
He crouched down and picked up the torn mylar packet she'd discarded on the floor. He crushed it in his hand, gritting his teeth. He wished he could find whoever sold her the little baggie of *A-Morph.* He thought about turning their face into goo -- the old-fashioned way.
*You knew she'd relapse at least once. They all do, that's what the doctor said. You knew it wouldn't be easy. It's not her. It's the drug. She's sick. You love her.*
Silently, he stood, and trudged out of the bathroom, though the living room, and down the stairs to the basement.
*She's sick. You love her.*
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*What-exactly-do…you..think-it-looks like?* I barked back, with jarred inflection.
My brain was firing on cylinders I didn’t know it had. Somewhere between fight-or-flight and immobile confusion, how was I supposed to process the sheer quantity of unknowns necessary to continue a conversation with what was now my girlfriend?
*Goo-rlfriend?* *Goomestic Partner?* *Would I bring her to dinner with my parents in a wheelbarrow? Could I get a handicap tag for something like this?. Maybe she can work for Gwyneth Paltrow on principle now.*
*FOCUS* I thought, snap-shimmying my head back to the present. *You can hire a goo-ru to help sort this out later*
In the time I’d been having an absurdity meltdown I’d turned my back on her and pressed a pair of curled hands up to my temples. I’d checked-out entirely, and even returning to reality I’d still forgotten the two most important things I should have considered:
*Is she OK?* and *Am I in danger?*
She was gone. No note. No further explanation.
Donning the two-armed sink lean necessary to assess how my relationship had just gone down the drain, I found myself becoming uncomfortably apprehensive.
*She made us purchase this grotesque basin, and I just gave in.* I thought. *Under false pretenses, no less! …and after everything we’ve been through!*
I knew exactly what needed to happen. After passive-aggressively tearing some paper from the toilet roll she’d installed backwards, I wiped the drain opening and took a confident breath as I leaned in as close as possible.
“WAS IT THE GULASH?”
Uncertain times call for uncertain condescension.
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l6qjvxh
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l6q4s3b
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[WP] As a child a hero stood by as your family was slaughtered, too afraid to intervene. Now as an adult you are a hero yourself. One day the government assigns you a partner to take down a villain, the exact one who killed your family and your partner is the hero who allowed it to happen.
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I had tried to refuse. I wanted nothing to do with hunting down Emil "Gardener" Gardner. In his bioterrorism spree he had caused the salad in my parents stomach to come back to life and grow far too quickly and far too large to be survivable. Then the roots and leaves had made their remains get up and fight.
I had only wanted the chicken in my chicken nuggets, and even peeled the breading off. Being a picky eater has literally saved my life.
Gardener. A play on his last name and his powers. I hated it so much. It was too banal a name for the brutality and cruelty of the man that killed my parents in the name of the planet they had been trying to save. I hated him almost as much as I hated *her.*
Satellite. I never found out her civilian name. A telekinetic that could easily distracted Emil but stood there, frozen and USELESS as people died HORRIFIC deaths!
Harold Highhill. Son of the late Benjamin and Erica Highhill. The super strong, super stretchy hero Omega. That's me.
Was me.
It had all been a little game I played in my mind to keep myself going. To keep myself sane enough after what I had seen and been through and relived over and over again.
I stood over Gardener now, or what was left of him anyway. Only DNA tests would confirm his identity now. I turned to Satellite and smiled, because during the fight the reason she had paused back then was revealed.
"I'm so glad to finally meet the real you, Samantha Gardner...."
The next time anyone saw me I wouldn't be Omega, the name I had chosen because I was the last member of my family. I wasn't the strong, elastic hero. The truth was I never had been, you see. I had just used my actual powers to fake it.
I was Chimera, the serial killing shapeshifter. The murderer of villains.
Villains, and heroes who won't do their *damn job.*
|
It was here, the day I was waiting for.
After more than a decade, and going through hellish trainings, I became a world-wide superhero.
Now, I got a mission from the governments of the world, to take down a supervillain...
The best part? This villain was the one who killed my family?
The worst part? My partner is the hero who watched it all happen, and was too afraid to intervene.
When I met him, he shivered.
He recognized me, after all, not many people have red-and-silver hair, and three "beautiful" scars running across their faces.
"Hello, I...", he started.
"No thank you, we have a mission to do.", I said, cutting him off.
The sidekicks, and other helpers for the mission just stared at our interaction, but said nothing.
With the information at hand, it wasn't difficult to find the villain.
"You...", the villain started, as he saw us, but I acted instantly.
Teleporting behind him, I threw a punch at him, which trapped him in one place.
He couldn't move, nor could we hear him talk.
He tried to use his power, telekinesis, but he was in a separate place, and it didn't work.
After ensuring he was truly captured, the helpers came, and shackled him with power dampening cuffs, and collar.
"Have a good day.", I said, leaving.
"Wait!", my "partner" shouted.
I looked at him, still as young as the day he failed to save my family.
Perks of having immortality, and superhuman abilities as superpower.
"I don't care, we have apprehended him, and he will be served justice.
If he escapes, his danger rating will be increased, and I will have the right to outright kill him.
It's done.", I said to him.
"I...", he started again.
"You are sorry, you were young, you froze seeing him literally devour other people to absorb their powers?
You rather protected the "small little girl", that I was, instead of saving the family?
I don't care, I thought it over, and he acted too quickly, too decisively...what is done, is done.", I said, teleporting away.
It was supposed to be a good thing, that the bastard was apprehended, but...
I still felt empty...
"Mom, dad, brother...", I muttered, standing in front of their graves...
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j4lrp11
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j4lkasy
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[WP] You are a supervillain who went undercover as a superhero for jokes, only to discover how corrupt the system is in the hero society. The system is so corrupt that you agree to lead a small group of superheroes to rebel against the unjust hero society.
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It was a Tuesday evening, I was hours from graduation — to becoming a semi-qualified hero — and it was the day I’d die.
“They *turn them* into supervillains,” I sputtered, face tomato-red, outrage almost suffocating me. We’d just come from of our final lecture, the last secrets of herohood revealed to us during it. ”Gaslight them into become villains. It’s not that they’re bad people, but they’re *made* bad.”
It was me, Corpse Kenny, and Jen Phoenix. We were stewing together in an empty locker room. They sat on slatted benches, heads down, as I marched back and forth in front of them. We’d gotten friendly over the last few months. Not my initial intention — my intention had been purely to scope out the hero course and to use any knowledge gained to my later advantage.
“We’re not fighting to make a difference,” said Jen Phoenix, not bitterly, just ruefully. A single flame of bright red danced over the fingers of her left hand, back and forth, back and forth.
“We’re fighting *to* *not* make a difference,“ said Corpse Kenny. Corpse Kenny was born with two skeletons, an extra on the outside. It was like he was wearing an armoured shell at all times. Not the greatest power, but he was as brave as a bullet.
I continued my polemic, “We wear sponsorships slogans on our cloaks and costumes. Come out of battles looking victorious against the scum of the earth. For what? To sell another cola. This whole thing’s rigged. We’re pawns.” By ‘we’ I’d meant villains — people like me. People tormented by the system, orphaned and mistreated, rejected by society and told it’s all just bad luck or our attitudes. But no, that was a lie; it’s premeditated rejection. Forcing us to become villains so the heroes have someone to defeat.
“People like us are getting used,” said Jen.
The pipes in floor beneath us screeched, twisting in response to my balled fists. I controlled copper. Not much of a power — but if I had a decent power they wouldn’t have made me a villain. I’d have been too dangerous. Too much of a risk to defeat.
”I don’t think I can do this,” said Kenny. “The hero thing.”
”Because it’s not a hero thing,” said Jen. She patted his hand. “And you’re a hero.”
The three of us had grown close, even choosing to group together during some practice missions. There was a purity to the pair of them that I had at one point hated — an innate goodness. I’d wanted to get near to them to slowly corrupt it, to make them see the world as I did.
But I knew better now. There is no world as I see it, or as they see it. There is only the world how the powerful see it.
The pipes groaned under the weight of my rage. I’d need to be careful; a water leak would give us away. And then a thought occurred.
”We could destroy this place,” I said. “We could destroy the Ministry of Heroes. Reset the entire game.“
”What?” said Jen, the flame leaping off her hand and down to the wet tiles where it extinguished in a sizzle.
”We destroy it. We flood it. Or we burn it down. All files and records. And then we show the world who did it — heroes about to graduate from this very institute. We’ll show the system is flawed. We’ll make everyone rethink. Or at least *think* for the first time in their lives*.*”
”I don’t know if I can,” said Kenny. “Ma thinks I’m a hero. She loves this placed and cried the day I got accepted. If she saw me destroy it…“
”I’ll take the blame then,” I said. “You two just need to help me do it. I’ll say that I forced you into helping me or I’d kill you both.”
Jen looked up. Her blue eyes met mine, hovered. I wondered if she’d imagined the same world I had over these last few months; a world where we graduate and we leave all this behind. Heroes, villains, all in our rearview mirror. We start something new together — a remote gas station far from the city, anything.
”I’m in,” she said. “This rot needs to burn.”
Her eyes flared bright with the hot hope of something better.
I should have known they were listening in. Of course — if they made villains then they knew who I was and would have been monitoring me this entire time. And they didn’t need cameras. They had supers who could feel every word said through the vibrations of the building.
They burst in. Heroes we’d all seen on television. The most powerful, popular.
”Sorry,” said Dr Bend. “But we can’t let you do that. You’d ruin a much too good a thing.”
There were eight of them; three of us.
”You,” Bend said, smirking at me. “You helped us find two more potential villains. Helped us kill them, too. For that, I thank you.”
Kenny charged forward yelling: *Bastards*.
Dr Bend was too fast.
With the sickening cracks of both Kenny’s spines, it became eight of them, *two* of us.
The piping in the ceiling, walls, floors, gutted itself as it coiled like an anaconda around the group of heroes, locking them in position, squeezing their life. For a second, I dared think I had them.
AntiMatter thought differently. The copper rusted like a dry autumn leaf between a child’s fingers. Dusted to the ground.
I looked at Jen and hoped my look said a lifetime of words. Then I ran at them
I felt my neck click. Then I was gurgling on the ground, coughing up a pool of red.
Someone laughed as I slowly died.
My final memory was of fire. Of the great flame that leapt from Jen, who had become blue and white, as fierce, wrathful, and beautiful as the sun itself.
They screamed as they burned.
​
\*\*\*
​
Hours later we woke. The three of us. We weren’t fully reformed yet, our dust still pulling together like iron filings to magnets, our consciousness still rebuilding.
*Phoenix*.
I’d never known she had a second ability.
Maybe she hadn’t either.
For a moment our dust connected — me and Jen — as our minds rebuilt. We shared a single thought, or maybe it was all our thoughts.
An orange horizon unfurling to the distance like god’s palm. Sycamores whisking in a dusty breeze. A little gas station, the only building for many miles, with a cat sitting on the roof. Two people beneath the veranda, lazily rocking back and forth, sipping on iced teas with not a care in the world.
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"And here's our newest member. He made it past the three trials showing his loyalty, and is now ready to take the test, to prove he can join us."
That was my queue. I walked up to the podium to start my initiation, trembling like a leaf. "Members of the council, i wish to join."
The council stared me up and down. They had all seen my file and knew today was the day, but they just wanted to act as if i came out of the blue. After some murmurs: What is your name?
I didn't see who asked it, but, i had to answer quickly. "Marsokan".
"Marsokan?" Some members laughed. "What do you wish to do to show you are truly a super villain?"
I saw it that time. The Elemental Queen was asking me the questions. That's perfect, she is exactly whom i wish to impress. She's been my idol for many years now.
"I am going to infiltrate the Super Hero Society."
"And how will that prove anything? You're an unknown, especially to real super heroes, and just need to act good for a while."
The others agreed with her, and she herself had a bit of disgust on her face.
I coughed, both nervously, and to act as if she had cut me off. "I am going to infiltrate the Super Hero Society and delete all the files they have on you in their famed master computer."
That got their attention. Nobody gets near the computer, even most the heroes. Having access to do anything, well, purportedly, only The Parrot has that.
"That would be impressive, and far beyond what you would need to do to join our society. Are you really trying to impress us?"
"Actually, i am trying to impress *you*."
The queen smiled while the others made some fun.
"So be it. You have your task, and must complete it in one month, or die."
The meeting was over. My reception was mixed. I heard the words: Bold, idiot, show off, prankster, young. And off i went.
---
I immediately applied to the Super Hero society, and they gave me the usual, "You have to be a proven hero with medals and affidavits to even apply. Please come back after you have achieved more." I hated those wods. I had heard them so many times since i was a kid, trying endlessly to join. No matter what i did, i never got recognized, and i tried charity, disaster relief, stopping small time villains (all the big time one get assigned, and you do *not* want to get in a super hero's way), and got awards. I even protected Speedster's house once when he was off on a mission, but he didn't even thank me, making it sounds as if i owed him the thanks. I hate them those stuck up brats!
But this time i was prepared. With my mild mental skills, i was able to convince the clerk to sign my application. It went into the small pile behind her. Step 1 was complete.
Step 2 is getting two supers to sign off on my sheet. It's nigh impossible to even get their attention, but i had to do it. I started with Speedster, thanking him for letting me save his house those years ago. It was humiliating bowing before that jerk, and he didn't remember me at all, but i lavished on the praises. I then asked him if i could have the honor of helping him some more, doing menial tasks, or better yet, coming on a mission. He looked at me with disdain and laughed at me.
"Could i at least get you're autograph?"
"Sure kid."
I used my powers to fog his mind ever so slightly, so that when he signed, he didn't realize he was actually signing my petition to join the league. I thanked him profusely and went off to The Brute. He was much easier to manipulate, and i brought him lots of food. He didn't even look at what he was signing when i asked for the signature. And back i went to the clerk.
The clerk looked down his nose at me. "Listen kid, you just used the two easiest members. If i walk into the council meeting on Tuesday with this application, i'll be laughed out of the room, and my job might be in jeopardy."
He started walking toward the nearby trash. I couldn't manipulate him when his mind was made up like this. Instead, i hid, and having thought i left, he went back to business. I stayed until after closing, took my application out of the garbage, stamped it with his stamp, and put it in the council room before leaving undetected. Steps 1-3 in one day isn't too shabby.
Now came the hard part. To join, i had to get most of the council's 67 members to vote yes, and i had exactly one day to do it. I was nervous, but my plan was working perfectly.
The next day, the supers were showing up to a charity event. Having this be the day before the meeting is what made my plan possible. All the heroes would be there, be in a good mood, and if past performance holds true, show off. That's when my super power would come into play.
First came Octopus Man. He got dirty while dragging a train in front of everyone. When he finished, he was filthy, and so i offered to clean his clothes. He allowed me to touch his sleeve, at which point i manipulated the cloth the squeeze out the mud. He had no idea what i did, but was impressed with the results. I told him it would be a great honor if he ever called upon me again. He smiled, and i left. Miracle Woman was next, and she proved just as easy. After the fifth cleaning, all the others had already heard of me and all asked for my service. Perfect. Things were going better than planned.
The following day, i waited in the lobby for the the council meeting to start. There were plenty of people there, hoping to catch yet another glimpse of heir favorite hero. After the meeting started, one of the supers came ut to the clerk, asked him who Marsokan was, and why he didn't hand deliver the application as usual. The clerk was dumbfounded, but i stood up immediately, "that's me sir!"
"You, the dry cleaner, want to join *us*?!"
"Please sir," i said in a respectful tone, "you are my idol. I want to join to help everyone look their best."
He laughed, but led me into the council room anyway.
"Marsokan, the the dry cleaner wants to join us." He announced.
Everyone laughed. I was used to it by now. I laughed too. They were now manipulatable, due to their light spirits. Luckily, The Parrot was not in the room. I was banking on that. And so i started to manipulate everyone else ever so slightly as i made my case to clean their clothes so they look their best at all times. And it worked. I even got 60 yeas!
The Turquoise Prophet announced my membership. "You are now officially a junior member of the Super Hero Council. Go fetch me a coffee."
|
jbphzmt
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jbo9jqs
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[WP]Humanity meets aliens, who are overjoyed to meet another benevolent and peaceful race out in the cosmos. Humanity goes along and tries desperately to hide its sordid past from the aliens. The aliens are trying to do the same.
|
It was the stuff of science fiction. Two intelligent species, from different planets, finally in contact. Unlike science fiction, there was peace. Cooperation. It was magical.
I was part of the sociological team, sharing our cultures and histories. I'd been warned - threatened rather - of the consequences of any violent human history being conveyed.
My alien counterpart and I pored over a map of earth and pictures of different climates and cultures together, charting the course of humanity from its cradle in Africa.
"Such great explorers," she mused. "So humans spread and evolved to have different features in different continents. But today they all live together, how did that happen?"
"Well, mostly it was European explorers. They sailed to other continents and shared their cultures."
"I see. And then the others also started to travel the seas?" she asked.
"Well, not quite. They didn't have the skills at first, so the Europeans took them initially," I responded vaguely.
"That was nice of them," she said. I nodded impassively, happy not to disillusion her. I decided to turn the tables before she enquired any further by asking her, "So how was your planet populated?"
She brought up a map of her own planet and indicated a lush river basin the size of the Amazon. "Our species originated here. As you can see, the continent is over half the landmass of the entire planet, and we spread to cover it. Without oceans separating us, we didn't evolve these different features like humans."
"That makes sense," I replied. "So how did you populate the other continent? There's only two right?"
"Yes, and it was the same as you, we discovered ocean travel," she explained.
"Right. So what did you find there?" I asked.
"Nothing," she said.
"Nothing?"
"Well obviously, there were different flora and fauna. There were new climates to discover as well."
Funny kind of nothing, I thought. "So you just settled there too."
"Exactly," she said. "The same as your Europeans settled on other continents."
We looked in each others eyes defiantly.
"So," she said, "what happened when the European settlers arrived?"
"Well, they lived in peace, both cultures learnt from each other, and then they gradually mixed cultures," I explained.
"But the Americans and Australians mostly look like Europeans now. How did that happen?"
Shit.
"Many native populations died out, tragically," I said, hoping the emotion would conceal the crime. "Diseases. Natural selection really."
She looked me dead in the eyes again. "In their own natural habitat?"
I floundered for a response. "Well yes, the arrival of Europeans somewhat... disrupted the ecology."
"I can imagine," she said. "Competition for resources, new diseases with no immunity, power conflicts over new territory... I would be surprised if there was no war."
My turn to look back at her. "That's very insightful of you. Especially for a species so united across one planet. I'd be surprised if your civilisation had ever experienced such a thing."
She was silent.
"In fact," I continued, "the only thing that would surprise me more, would be the presence of intelligent life on only one of your continents."
"Are you accusing me of lying?" She looked panicked. I weighed up the evidence before I spoke.
"On balance, yes I am. You didn't find 'nothing' on the second continent, did you? You found another intelligent civilization, and wiped them out in exactly the same way as - "
Shit!
She looked me in the eyes.
I looked back.
"Do continue," she said.
"No thanks," I replied.
We sat in silence for a moment before she sighed. "We're not politicians. We're scientists. I assume you were given the same instructions as me."
"Seems so," I replied, "so I can also assume you were given the same threats as me."
She stared at the ceiling and I stared at the floor, then we looked at each other again.
"So your cultures mixed peacefully then," she said.
"Yup. And your second continent was unpopulated," I replied.
"Yup."
"Cool."
|
I heard a scream come from my room that sounded like the Frincheyall diplomat, Taynira. Not good.
"OH MY GOD!" Even worse. Wait, did I remember to shut off my computer before I took a shower?! I began running back to my room to try and explain whatever she saw on my computer.
"Oh shit oh shit!" Wait, why was Taynira cursing? I burst through the door... and immediately turned my back on the scene with wide eyes. There's *no way* I actually just saw that.
"Uhh... I can explain?" I tried, trying to ignore the dripping noises and weirdly enticing coffee-guava smell originating from near my desk.
"I can also explain!" Taynira said quickly. "You see, um..." she sighed. "I have nothing."
"Yeah me neither." I admitted. "I can... wait in the living room, and we can try to explain everything to each other?"
"That's about as good as we're going to get." More wet noises, *a lot* more, and the smell got stronger. "Give me five minutes."-A loud *shlick* and *plop* noise interrupted her-"... ten minutes."
"*Take your time!*" I said, voice high as I walked out of my own room. I definitely saw correctly back there.
Twenty minutes later she was sitting on the couch and I had taken the couch-chair thing.
"So..." I started, holding my chin on my thumbs as my hands were clasped together. "I can do nothing to hide what you saw, and unless I'm misreading in the extreme I know what I saw you doing."
"Mmhm," Taynira hummed, doing the equivalent of holding her head in her hands.
"I should probably explain that humans have a rather large population of teratophiles... in laymans terms: monster fuckers," I said, sighing. "Which has been a thing since ancient times, and until establishing first contact with extraterrestrial life was purely a fantasy and... *artwork* inspiration."
"I'm following," Taynira said, finally not hiding her face. "It's kind of funny how familiar it is, actually. Let me guess: first contact is made, you see a squeaky clean alien history, and the entire population thinks "hide the smut!" and goes about their business pretending they aren't in the mood to try some out of this world tacos and hotdogs?"
I shrug helplessly. "Pretty much! In hindsight, a perfectly clean history is *way* more suspicious, but both of our species were probably too focused on hiding our own crap to focus on the skeletons in each others closets."
"Yup." Taynira looks at me. "So, let's agree to not share anything outside of this room until later, and air out the laundry a bit. We can take turns to make it even."
"Agreed." We spent a few hours going over our own *complete* histories. Humans had several thousands of years of war, a few cultures of religious cannibalism, the really weird sex stuff, several flavors of slavery, and enough unconfirmed conspiracy theories to make your head spin.
Turns out, the Frincheyall had dominated their own planet by slaughtering three other intelligent species, at one point accidentally turned an entire 10% of their race into walking plague factories with several hallucinogenic plants and infected animals nesting in their bowels, ALSO had weird sex stuff, and had a class system that was basically slavery with a few more rights and protections that was still in effect.
All in all, we couldn't really pass judgement on either of species for our histories.
"We can probably stop holding our breath at this point and slowly release this to the population," Taynira said. "I just hope the freak out period doesn't last too long."
"That, and the teratophiles breeding humans and Frincheyall out of existence," I deadpanned. "Not gonna jinx it though, because I don't want to be the root of an apocalypse where we all CAME to death."
"That would just be embarrassing if another species found our civilizations wiped out by incompatible copulation of all things," Taynira laughed, and I laughed with her...
Silence...
We looked at each other...
"... Telling my superiors could probably wait a few hours," I coughed into my hand. The scent of coffee-guava wafted by my nose.
"Maybe until tomorrow morning?" Taynira tried. "I don't have any meetings..."
"I'll make breakfast then, and we can start fresh. For now... " I stood up and began walking back to my room with a bounce in my step, that enticing aroma both following and growing stronger from the open door ahead. I *really* hope I didn't already jinx things.
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j2sns2g
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j2sj8bs
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[WP] "Wait... so your superhero secret identity is as an entertainer dressed up as... yourself. With a cheap costume that you wear over your real costume"
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"Well, yeah. I thought it goes without saying I'd do that. I do kids' birthday parties dressed up as AwesomeMan to hide my secret identity as AwesomeMan. I thought everyone does it."
"Um...no. Most people try to hide their secret identity, and don't totally degrade themselves like this."
"Is it somehow degrading to get the chance to meet one of your biggest fans and their family and friends at their birthday party, but do so in a way where they're completely safe from villains?"
"...when you put it that way, it makes some sense. But still, why?"
"You want to know why? It's all about the money."
"You can't make more than a couple hundred bucks for this job. Be a mild-mannered reporter instead, you'd make more."
"I'm not talking about the money from the job. I'm talking about the money from being a superhero!"
"You can't be serious. You get reward money left and right, you have endorsement deals all over this fair city...the Internet claims your net worth is somewhere in the eight figures."
"Yeah, I get all of that money all the time. *In checks*. YOU TRY cashing a check made out to AwesomeMan and see how much fun it is! You get the check made out to you, they ALWAYS make it out to AwesomeMan...and I can't exactly tell them to make it out to Joey Janus, that'd literally be telling them my secret identity every time I get paid...and likewise, I can't exactly sign AwesomeMan's checks over to Joey Janus, that'd be telling my secret identity to bank tellers- **BANK TELLERS**, who get robbed at least once a day in this fair city, who don't know me from Adam, and who if they were to tell my secret identity to the bank robber or supervillain robbing the bank in order to save their own life, I wouldn't blame them for doing so! I try to go to open up a bank account or even go to a check cashing place with it, they won't even think of letting me cash the check because any schmendrick can put on a costume and claim they're AwesomeMan- which is ALSO why I can't just get some forms of ID in the name of AwesomeMan either, so opening up a bank account in AwesomeMan's name is hopeless...and because it's hopeless to try to open up a bank account, I can't exactly get direct deposit either to sidestep the whole problem. What's the point of getting this money if it's a bunch of checks you literally have no way to cash?"
"Then you're that hard up for money you need a couple bucks?"
"Oh, no. People can't understand the fantastic, but they can understand something more down to earth. If AwesomeMan goes to the bank to open up an account, people can't understand that. If Joey Janus, who is the secret identity of AwesomeMan, goes to the bank to open up an account for AwesomeMan and reveal his secret identity, people can't really understand that either.
...but if children's entertainer Joey Janus, who plays AwesomeMan as a job, goes to open up an account and plays AwesomeMan while doing it? Then people can chalk it off to me just being one of those method acting douchebags who takes too much pride in my job, I can open up a bank account that'll take checks to me made out to 'AwesomeMan' with my name and handwriting, and then after that I can just do all my banking online or through ATMs and never worry about this bullshit again. I put the mask on for kids, I get to have access to the money when the mask is really on."
"I see."
"Yeah, you'd be surprised how hard it is to get access to your money when you're a superhero. Villains have it easy- they rob a bank they either get cold hard cash or priceless artifacts they can easily flip for cold hard cash."
|
I hate walking through Times Square.
It's full of tourists who feel that it's their right to stop, as a group, in the middle of the sidewalk and take pictures of the Bubba Gump Shrimp restaurant for a full five minutes. This morning it's still full of leftover confetti from the ball drop, snuck into every little corner and cranny. They clean it up, but they never get it all. The confetti is supposed to be biodegradable, but even the rats don't seem to want to eat it.
On a day like today, though, the square is mostly full of superheroes. Shilling themselves to the tourists for pictures, jostling each other for territory, dressed in their cheap knock-off costumes. If the square wasn't directly between my favorite bagel place and work I'd avoid it. As it is, I keep my head down, walk quickly and do my best Dustin Hoffman to any tourist that steps in my way.
This morning, though, the asshole that runs into me isn't a tourist. This asshat in a cheap, dirty suit shoulders his way past me at a sprint with a bright green purse tucked under his arm. He ducks into an alley with what I assume are his ill-gotten goods. A moment later I'm jostled again as one of the superheroes rushes by. It's the one in the red and silver suit that's supposed to look like the Midtown Might that always salutes me when I walk by in the morning. I would have ignored all this if the goon hadn't knocked my bagel to the ground. Two rats were already fighting over it.
I turn to give hench dude a piece of my mind, but he's already disappeared into this alley. Has there always been an alley here? I seem to recall reading that New York didn't really have alleys. I follow him into the alley. I'll admit here that this doesn't sound like the best idea, but remember, I didn't get to finish my bagel.
The alleyway is dingy. The morning sun doesn't reach here. I could have sworn that the buildings on either side were glass and steel towers covered in billboards, but somehow the alley was brick in sore need of repointing. A rusty fire escape and a half empty dumpster completed the scene. Next to the dumpster was the Midtown Might, the real one in tight fitting spandex, wailing on the asshat in the suit. The green purse was sitting on top of a neatly folded red and silver outfit.
The Midtown Might has the asshat pinned up against the dumpster with one hand while he punched him repeatedly with the other. I think the guy was already unconscious. After one last punch that I'm reasonably certain cracked his jaw, the Midtown Might flips him into the trash and closes the lid. He turns and seems surprised to see me.
He gives me his little salute. "Just taking out the trash, Ma'am."
"You effed that guy up. I'm pretty sure purse snatching is just a misdemeanor."
The Might tosses me the purse and starts to put his non-spandex suit back on. "I do what I have to do to keep this city clean."
"Whatever. He messed up my bagel." I hand the purse back to him as he finishes putting on the outfit. "Why is your secret identity a second, crappier version of super suit?"
The Might looks down at this suit. "Crappier? I made this myself. It photographs well. All the superheroes have different versions of their costumes for photo ops. Nobody wants the blood stains in their vacation slides."
We step out of the alley and the Might hands the purse back to a little old lady. She walks off without saying thanks. I could see several of the other photo op heroes giving him a thumbs up.
I look at him and the rest of them. "You... you all have super powers?"
The Might laughs. "No, not Elmo. But he did disarm a bomb last week. Former Black Ops."
A passing man hands a paper bag to the Might. He takes a bagel out of the bag and hands it to me. "But... why do you hang out here taking photos for tourists?"
The Might smiles and poses for a group of foreign children. "Being a superhero doesn't pay jack."
\[More writing at r/c_avery_m\]
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ku1ap5p
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ktwd2a7
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[WP] You, a side character, watch in horror as the MC forgives and doesn't kill the main villain, who murdered your friends and family, saying, "If I killed them, then I'd be just like them."
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No.
All of the thoughts in my head, all of the feelings in my heart, and all of the scars along my body coalesce into one definitive word as I stood back and saw Brandon lower his gun.
“If I kill you,” the moron continued, although my blood was pounding too hard to fully hear, “I’ll be just like you. No, you need to face the full might of the judicial system and face punishment for your crimes.
That was a joke. It had to be, nothing else made any sense. Blood was dripping off of both our hands, both metaphorically and quite literally. My eye twitched as my hands began to shake, and I slowly lowered them to the only weapon I had yet to throw or run out of ammo for: my old derringer, passed down from father to son for generations.
“Y-You’re letting me live?” Even Duke Rogers seemed surprised at Brandon’s change of heart. Not shocking, considering the list of atrocities he had committed was longer than the damn Bible.
“T-T-Thank you so much!” The scumbag stammered out, still knelt at the feet of Brandon. “I’ll change my ways, I promise! You’ll only ever hear the people singing my praises from now on!”
No.
*Not a fucking chance.*
**BANG**
The report of my derringer sounded out in the lavishly decorated room, fine artwork and gold-inlayed mahogany everywhere. There was silence for a brief moment, then the thud of Duke Rogers’ body leaning onto the ground, an eighth hole freshly made in his head.
Brandon stumbled back.
“What the fuck?!” He shouted, raising his pistol and pointing it at me.
“Why the hell did you do that?!” His face was red, eyes wide.
It shocked me at that moment just how little I cared. All the suffering I’d undergone, all the people murdered in the name of greed, all of the families torn apart to fuel the war machine. It all turned into sheer, unadulterated bliss as I stared at the corpse of the man who orchestrated it all. My mouth twisted into a smirk, then a smile, then a full blown rictus grin as a chuckle bubbled out of my throat.
My gun fell to the ground as both my hands raised to my face, held to the side of my head as my chuckling turned to howling laughter.
“I said why the fuck did you do that Sam!” Brandon yelled again, pistol shaking as he clenched it harder.
I turned to face him, trying to force my laughter to stop so that I could talk. But it was like trying to stop a volcano mid-eruption, and I just stood there, staring face to face with the coward. Both of our eyes were wide, his in rage and mine in euphoria.
Finally, I forced out one sentence through the echoing howls of my laughter:
“*I won.*”
|
I was absolutely… pissed.
I glared as the so called Hero Maximus proceeded to hug and forgive a mass murderer. Someone who had called thousands. Someone who killed my FATHER. Some who killed Max’s MOTHER.
I don’t know what happened to me hit something just snapped. I unsheathed my sword and with speed I had never achieved before I blasted forward.
My sword cut through the air as I aimed for the monster. Before I could feel the satisfying slice through that bastards neck, my blade was blocked and deflected away before a kick slammed into my stomach sending me tumbling back.
“Leon WHAT are you doing?!” Max said with some anger in his voice but upon seeing my pissed off face his voice softened as he faced me.
“I’m sorry Leon but we should forgive him, it’s the right thing to do” he said softly as his blade dropped down.
I simply stood to my feet as my gaze finally swapped to Max. He could see the hatred in my eyes and it surprised him.
“I’m not like you Max. He is going to die and I will be today. I am going to kill him. If you want to stop me then kill me!” I said as I shot forward, bringing down an overhead slash at Max.
I liked Max and so all that stroke did was distract him. He jumped back to avoid it and I ran past him whilst he was focusing on dodging. He wouldn’t go all out on me which meant I had a chance.
I was strong but Maximus was on a whole other level. A smirk crossed my features as I appeared in front of the monster.
My sword slashed outwards but it never connected. I would never wield it properly again. I stared in shock as I saw my sword flying away with my hand still gripping it.
I felt pain explode from my wrist as I looked down seeing my hand had been severed. I looked to the right seeing a familiar figure.
A woman, her names was Alina. She was another member of our group. Max had saved her life and she had swore her life to him.
“No!” I heard Max shout as he ran over to me as I collapsed to my knees, I grit my teeth stopping the tears.
Max immediately crouched at my side, a hand on my shoulder. At that moment I saw my chance. I head butted Max in the face, grabbing his Max’s spare sagger before he threw it at Alina.
He then charged at the monster, his spare dagger in his hand as he smirked, plunging it into that monsters chest “die you pathetic bastard!” I shouted as I slammed my body into the injured man.
We both tumbled to the ground, I attempted to get on top of him and use my remaining hand to deal as much damage as possible but I wasn’t able to.
A kick slammed into me as I was sent tumbling away, Alina had recovered. She appeared in front of me and slammed the hilt of her sword into my face.
Dazing and confusing me as I fell back. My head was swimming. He wasn’t dead yet so I couldn’t fall unconscious.
I got up and charged, as I got closer to Alina, blackness took over and I slammed into the ground.
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jguazc9
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jgt4m97
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[WP] The king has the ability to see team colors. Everyone who's working towards the same goal as a group appears to be wearing the same color, regardless of what color their clothes actually are. This makes conspiring against him really, really hard.
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The king sat defeated. He had awoken dizzy and in pain only to find himself securely bound to a chair and unable to move. His captor was known to him which left him feeling more incensed than afraid.
"For all of my life anyone who would conspire against me or do me harm shone a bright red. How is it that I have ended up in this state and you, you show no hint of treachery?"
His would-be killer sat impassively and spoke calmly.
"For three and twenty years you have ruled this realm. You have done *some* good and a measure more bad. You have built a great city but razed a hundred others. You sired several children but sent a thousand times more to their graves."
The assassin moved close to the king, drawing a dagger and placing it gently against his throat.
"It was not until I bore you a son, your true heir, that I was able to stand before you today, your killer, and not be revealed. What do you care about most if not your legacy? How can I conspire against you when your death will ensure that very legacy? I am your murderer and your queen. A son was born out of my blood and today a new king is born out of yours."
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The enemy king knows this, and enlists the help of a fool under the guise of the king's ambassador. Not realizing what he is doing is hurting the king, he is not conspiring against him. Unfortunately, he was too dumb to do it quietly and is caught. When presented before the king, the king sees the color of his own kingdom. Satisfied that the fool was not conspiring against him, he was released. When the fool leaves and returns to his home, he was killed, as to make sure he never realizes what had transpired. The enemy king's ambassadors must find someone of meagre intelligence; someone who is dumb enough to think that what they're doing is helping the king, while smart enough to get it done. One ambassador finds a nobleman's child. The child had been shielded from the horrors of war, and most of the outside world, taking time mostly to study. As such, the child was incredibly trusting, while of incredible intellect. When the ambassador arrived, the nobleman was away. They spoke of exploration, childish games and curiosity. The child admitted he felt trapped in his own home, and imagined the world outside his land a fantastic sight to behold. The ambassador convinced the child that he was close to the king, and knew that the king had lost a precious family heirloom somewhere in the castle. He asked the child to go to the castle and explore, create a map, and find the heirloom, returning it to the king. I'll stop here, mb let someone else pick it up but I'm out of time
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jfowvoh
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jfohn9j
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[WP] As a renown astronomer you’ve known there are intelligent extraterrestrial life forms for years, it wasn’t that difficult to find, nor was it for their searches to find us. However, you’ve realized that both societies are not ready to interact. That doesn’t stop you guys from being pan pals.
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Hello Marcus,
I hope this letter finds you well (as much as possible). I'll start with a request for a few clarifications from your last missive. (Forgive me if this is too personal from a medical perspective.) Can you describe the nature of the disease 'divorce'?
Is it related to an autoimmune issue that rejects the mated pair's fusion? Or is it related to physical incapability of lock and key connections? Such issues are usually easily treated with medicine or prosthetics here.
I wish I could provide you with these technologies to assist you so that you did not have to unpair and separate, it sounds quite traumatic.
I'm also struggling to picture what you mean by your use of the term 'house', which I should have asked for clarification before. Your fear and stress over seeking to sell your 'house' confuses me. This is normally where you stay? Why is this needed? Territorial disputes and moving to new dens occured here but long ago in barbaric history before the society gel. I can't imagine egg nippers alongside space communication.
Thirdly, regarding the television show F.R.I.E.N.D.S, why does Ross, the largest friend, simply not eat the other five?
(Pause here for reflection and confusion for a few seconds, please.)
I jest! This is a humorous lie from a separate television show I have intercepted! Without having you to explain things for me, the footage is very bizarre but occasionally things make sense to me, as when the red creature eats, very dramatic!
We are doing well and expect a third clutch of children (medicine tells us five or six) in the coming year. This will be nice if it aligns with the high wind segment of the year. I have begun the sorrow wall but am coming to terms with things as best as can be expected, though I will miss solid food assuredly.
What type of food do you eat at your stage? Please savor each bite!
Your friend,
(Sound like clearing throat - sound like kissing stone - Sound like clearing throat)
/r/surinical
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"Do you have bread?" I asked Quri, then listened as the universal translator hummed. It got a background response, likely checking for clarification on "bread."
Finally, she replied. Note that I use the pronoun "she" as Quri chose it after I explained human gender, and seems primarily based on her ability to produce offspring. Also worth mentioning is the universal translator was a Tarvax invention I sort of stole, and not from humans or Quri's race, the Rovolo. The Tarvax are jerks, though, so I feel no guilt.
Anyway, the translator gives me her response, "Oh em gee, yes! It's so frikkin delish, it's just crazy."
We had been trying for a few months to figure out how to introduce our societies to each other. Find some sort of common ground. Unfortunately, one of us lived in a culture of unbridled conquest, and the other a culture of regular consumption of a secondary intelligent species. There was more issues, but that mostly covered why we shouldn't just drop the info and hope for the best.
"I hear that. I'm in constant danger of gaining weight thanks to it's siren call."
"Do you make your own? I have some good recipes."
"Really? We should totally do a swap. Let me grab my cookbook."
I'd debated cutting communication when I realized we'd never meet, but she was the best friend I had. I'd didn't start searching the stars because I was socially gifted, you know.
"You like pumpernickel?" I asked.
"Never heard of it. Sounds a little disturbing, but shoot that recipe my way. I have one for you, too."
That morning, I'd planned on ending it anyway, was about to tell her when the question came out of my mouth. Over the next few years, we'd chat and trade recipes. I realized their bread was really good. Like, should be illegal, sort of good. And now they are in some places.
I was low on funding, but I realized I had a solution right there. It was foolish, I didn't know the first thing about running a bakery, but I was desperate to stay in contact with my friend.
Turns out, she did the same thing. The Rovolo are nuts about sourdough. Even better, we've both been seeding our worlds, using our money to gain power and influence, preparing our societies. It won't happen in our lifetime. Maybe not for a couple generations, but hopefully, someday, we'll be ready to meet. We'll be ready to work together.
Then we can go show those bullying Tarvax who's boss.
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jvrcr40
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jvr4dmq
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[WP] I need to address this
|
"Attention Russian Invaders".
"It is day 712 of your three day invasion, which your own president refuses to call a war."
"You are here, as conscripts illegally pressed into frontline service. When you die, Russia will ignore your sacrifice and arrest your mothers, sisters and wives. You fight because Chechens, or Rosgardia, or FSBs will shoot you in the back if you flee."
"There is nothing to be gained in this battle. You are on the defensive; there is no loot to be had nor spoils to be gained. Your fight is simply to help the others who have cheated and stolen from both of us to keep what they have."
"You don't need to fight"
"Come close, and bear the color white. Drop your arms, save your lives. You have nothing to fight for, but every reason to survive. And when sanity returns to Moscow, you will be able to freely leave."
"Will you die a meaningless death? Simply that another Tsar's war goes on a day longer? You can reject that fate."
|
Nordmen! Tings' may be bleak, but do not despair! Te' elves of te' south ave' come t' our lands wit' supremacy in technology. *Fire sticks* t' call upon tem', lightin' t' bludgeon and gore on command. Steel plates and golden swords tat' cut through armor n' flesh like knife t' butta'! Iron boats'! Lightin' boats! Te' pound te’ walls f' our fortress!
Allied among tem' are te' Celts, Romans, te' Christians, even te’ dark men of Nubia and Egypt, even te' red skin na-ives f' Vinland! And te' Huns…
Uh…
…
Te' elves also… tey' also ave'… *prison camps*. Apparently, half-elves are physically superior t' both f’ us… smar'er too… built like orcs and…
*cough*
Tey' are not f' our women. Tank'fully. Te' Nubians and Celts ave' ad'... relations… wit' te' elves after… after te' battle f' Phelgard. A mere… raiding squad decimated our decorated… honored guard… f' 10,000….
… did I mention half elves reach teir' physical peak in 3 years?
…
But please! Please! Do not despair! We outnumber tem' 26-to-1! Tey' are low on numbers, t' te' point tey' must deploy teir' own women t' combat! Ay, I remember our first encounter wit' a she-elf. She…
… Mi fadur, he laid his axe upon her skull… it… shatt'red… and she… took mi arm off…
…
Nordmen…
“Hersir!”
What say you? Boy?
“We are fucked, Hersir!”
“You wish tey' did tat' 'stead f' killin’ us clean!”
…
Ay. We do be… “Fucked”
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loj0to2
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loifflc
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[WP] You pretend to be a small-time villain. At most, you annoy the local supers but your crimes never hurt anyone. To you it's all good fun. Things change when a truly sadistic super villain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.
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(Sorry for any spacing and formatting problems, typed this on my phone)
Aidan Maxwell, villain callsign "Lightwave." He was in the middle of his normal hijinks, making people think they're losing it by moving things around without anyone seeing him, taking things and framing others for the infractions to start minor quarrels, and at the very worst nipping in and out of bank vaults to steal enough cash for rent and groceries. He really didn't have a grand plan - he just wanted to live and let live. There were even times when he used his powers to help - stopping a stroller from rolling away, returning a dropped bag, providing a subtle redirect between an inattentive phone-watcher and possible injury
Most days, the heroes didn't even know he was there. This was by design. He could bend light and had grown to the point that he did it without even thinking about it. Two of them, Sadie and Howard Porter, the twins Double Vision, could see through his illusions. When push came to shove, they usually just gave him a stern talking-to. When it came down to it, they were the closest things Aidan had to friends.
News of their sudden and brutal demise at the hands of some new upstart, calling himself Lucifer with no sense of irony or self-awareness, did not leave Lightwave particularly happy. This new, exceedingly powerful villain had torn through the national hero team with wild abandon. He took all challengers who called him out, which was becoming a rarer commodity for him. It came as a shock when no-name Lightwave called him out, but he accepted the challenge all the same.
"I honestly have no idea who you are," Lucifer, a massive armored man, covered in more spikes than a porcupine and enough blades for a daytime shopping channel, "buuuut I figure it could be kinda fun to deal with a nobody villain, make an *example* of ya."
Lightwave stood half a block from the much larger man, slightly slouched, his light gray motorcycle jacket with a squiggly line stitched on its back to represent a wave of light, and seemed to the casual observer to be shrinking away from this terrifying beast, "You killed my friends. I haven't got many of those, y'know." The lights in the buildings nearby dimmed.
"Oh, I can see why, pathetic lookin' thing you are," His armor plates shook with his laughter, "I mean, what do you expect being so quiet and scrawny?"
"They were good people," The lights in the buildings died, "You killed a lot of good people."
"Yeah, I sure did," There was an audible smile in Lucifer's voice, "I think I'll fit a few more in when we're do-"
"You most certainly will not," Lightwave responded with absolute authority, cutting off and shocking the much-larger villain, "Tell me, do you know the actual etymology of your chosen name?" The lights across the entirety of the state dimmed, then winked out.
Lucifer stood taller, "Yeah man, the fuckin' DEVIL man! It's what I aim to-"
"It's Latin. Light Bearer, or Light Bringer. The latter being what I'd chosen for myself before I decided it was too much," The light for half an astronomical unit sputtered and died, "Everyone thinks my power is bending light, which is true to a point. I can manipulate and control photons. You are not walking away from this, you goddamn *monster*."
"Like hell I'm n-"
The sentence died in the air, as Lightwave crossed the entire distance between them in a fraction of a second, unleashing the full power of the light from the palm of his hand straight down on the top of the upstart's head.
Four minutes later, the sunlight managed to return to the Earth, illuminating a man walking from the shadow of monster burned into the melted asphalt.
|
"The heroes and i,had had a friendly relationship at times. really my journey into so called villainy, started with My youngest sons Milos 6th birthday,him and his friends wanted it to be super hero themed,so i dawned my pirate suit,i haven't worn,in years,since i was captain of the Infamous Black rose pirates,i want to say,it was down in greece? or maybe spain,i dont really rember,it was 300 or so years ago now,but ill never forget ol lucy,my first mate,i met her when she was but a lass of 14,and she stole from me,.'
"but that's not what this story is about. see for years,i played the local villain,for a bunch of local super heroes,of various ages. Dragon of winter they called me.,i would do petty tricks,small snow storms,petty freezing of pipes and such,but id never hurt anyone and id always reverse the damage i did when the kids caught me. I've lived for many years now. I've traveled around the world and back,i spent time all over. but i had finally settled down once again. all the kids knew me by name,it didn't matter if i was a so-called villain,the parents and kids were happy ,and having fun,isn't that what's important?"
"i was at work in the office,and going over some reports,when a speical news brodcast from the heros went out.it was strange as it was a level 32 alret,the higest level they had,so i stopped and watched.,and what i saw... ill never forget. No parent should ever have to bury their child... but that day... ill never forget,the anger,the pure hatrad i felt for that bastard. the one they call the Blod viper,a brutal bastard,who has no moral compas."
*Special news report Blood viper Brutally murdred and torutred the local super hero team night owls,live on telvison,and carved their hearts out,daring anyone else to challange him,as he laughs a wicked laugh*
"when i saw the report,my heart sank,i prayed i was wrong.... but later,when i got home,Lucian,One of Milos friends parents,who works as a cop,informed me,milo was their... fighting for his life... and he passed away. on that day,hearing those words,my heart hardend once again,and it took me back to when i served over seas.. i dawned an old uniform with various tabs of elite forces ,and i let out a roar of anger,as i look to a picture of milo and his mom*
"im sorry,i wasnt able to protect him.... but i will avange him."
*i put out a chllange to a duel to the death for blood viper,many news comapnys and reporters came and looked at the situation,blood viper just laughed at seeing me,dressed in a t shirt,and shorts,*
"so your the so called villan who chllanged me? i beat the hero league and i heard your more a prankster then an actual villan,so what are you going to do about it,weakling."
*My eyes flash with an anger and fire they havent flashed with,in years,as i spoke calmly,yet the power and tension behind my words could be felt,as the very air shook*
"You killled,innocent children... who wanted to make this world a safer place. You really think just because im called a tristicker ,i am? i only did that for the children,and the local heros. it kept them safe from people like you."
*he waves his hands,as spirits of the dammend and demons of death appear,and he ties blood viper in chains as he tries to run*
"My true power,is far beyond,what they saw or know. today im going to make an example of you. milo was only 15,and he had a kid on the way. i dont agree with it. but you took away that chance,now your sins have caught up."
*Everyone watches in stuned silence as The person they thought was a low tier villain,brutally punished blood viper,and once he was done torutring him,he summoned a sword of Hellfire and ice,and split him in 2,*
"i lived a life to protect my sun,and then you did this. you pushed me to far."
*he says,as he burns the body and as his spirt leaves,the other spirits and demons drag it deep to the depths of hell*
*he looks up to the sky*
"dont worry son,after this,no one,hero or villan will bother your unborn child,or your girlfriend. you have my word,ill protect them. hopefully one day,we can meet again,at the gates."
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jwo84mt
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jwntiim
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[WP] You partner in crime has pulled a gun on you. "The truth is, the game was rigged from the start." You know that very well, mostly because you did all the rigging.
|
" Put the gun away," I said.
She cocks the gun.
"PUT THE GUN DOWN."
" I want all of it," she says holding the gun. " I'm taking it all, you fuck. You've been played, motherfucker," she says and gives a smirk.
I don't say anything. I put my hands up, throw my piece in the back seat, " Alright, you win. I'm gonna open the trunk. You take the duffel bags."
She opens the car coor, goes to the trunk, and grabs the duffel bags. Without the trunk closing I take off.
I drive the road, obey all traffic lights, and head to the used car dealer lot.
"Hey, Frank," says Seth. " You got the stuff?"
" Yeah," and pop the trunk open and open the spare tire compartment and take out the real duffel bags. My skinny little brother gets out.
" You made the switch, yeah?"
" Yeah, kinda hard opening that spare tire place, but made the switch."
"Seth, burn the car. Here's your share."
Jared and I get into a plain Civic, Florida plates. We drive away. I pull my burner phone and dial the police, " I'd like to report a crime. I know who pulled the bank job on Broadway and Turner. Allison Dunlop, goes by Allison Creed and now Jessica Turner. She's going to be in her apartment on Peak street. Four B." I threw the phone away.
" What gives?" asks Jared.
" I don't like being played. You knew she was playing. Told you she'd lay you a few times. Information."
" What's in the bags?"
I lit a cigarette, " Everything she had in her savings, checking, and off shore accounts." I took a puff, " She's been stealing from poor old people man. She's gettin what she deserves."
" I kinda liked her," said Jared.
" Not a woman like that. We can lay low for awhile. And travel a bit. Maybe somewhere you'll meet someone, Little Bro."
Jared pulled a gun on me, " I loved her, Frank."
" Fuck, Jared. Your gun is not loaded. I made sure. Blanks. You want to get out and chase that girl. Wait til she gets out? I've sent the detective a USB. You can get out and try and save her."
He pulled the trigger. My ears rang. " Told you. Blanks.You wanna get out?"
Jared pulled the trigger until it clicked. Smoke filled the car. My fucking ears were ringing. I pulled over. " I love you. I always will. There's the door."
Tears in his eyes, he opened the door and stepped out. He said, " I never made the switch."
" Figured as much," I said and drove away. I saw him running after the car, screaming.
I drove to a bar. Seth and Josh were in a booth. I sat down felt the duffel bags.
" Where's Jared?"
" Love," I said.
" You're were right, man," said Seth. Seth and Josh were with me in the bank. Fake duffels in his car. Josh and Seth put the real duffels in his car and I drove the fake duffels and picked up our lookout Jessica.
My phone rang, " Yeah."
Jared crying in the phone, " I told them everything, Frank."
" Told who what?"
" The cops."
" I don't know what you're talking about."
" Everything. Every job."
" Jared, I told she was bad news. Feeding you drugs and love. Your drugged out of your mind. You'd do and say anything to get her out. I want no more part in this. I tried to help you man. Get clean, get away from her. Now listen to yourself."
Jared whispered to someone.
" I love you. Always will. Find me when your clean and sober," and I broke the phone in two. " We gotta go."
We tipped the bartender 10 grand, snuck out the back and got into a plain Subaru.
I started the car, lit my cigarette and headed to where no one would know or say anything about us: Wyoming. A big place to lose oneself for several years. Never told Jared. Always said we'd head to someplace sunny, plenty of women, drinks, and nothing to do but bask in the warmth of the sun.
I drove slow. Obeyed every speed limit. A model citizen. One thing echoed forever in my ears: I love you Jared. Always will.
|
“Go on then, shoot me.” I said as I put my head to end of the barrel, I admit it was a little ballsy, but at this point, it just simply didn’t matter. Thomas was shocked at my sudden action of having my head to his gun and offering him to shoot.
“W-what the fuck?” He stammered as he looked right at me, a face with no concern whatsoever. “I’m literally pointing at gun, straight at your head! This gun is pointed directly at you and you dare me to shoot you!?”
“Why yes, that’s what you’re doing in the first place… *right?*” I replied. I continued to stare at him, watching his face slowly turn from sly cockiness to one of fury. He screeched in rage and held his head like a child, throwing a tantrum. It was… very amusing to me, seeing this “master” of theft and espionage being upset because my stunt wounded his pride, and still had his gun pointed at me.
“You see, you see, THIS is what I can’t STAND about you!” He shouted at me in rage. “You always put on this facade of superiority, not showing a trace of emotion! You’re like a machine, a machine that constantly looks down on everyone else around no matter what happens. Every setback, every gunshot, and every time we get into a massive car chase halfway across world, you just sit there and act like everything’s going your way! Like it doesn’t matter to you. Well guess what Hector, does THIS matter to you now your very own life!?”
I looked at Thomas with disappointment, after all this time, he’s still concerned with his pride. Was my demeanor really so intrusive to his mind? Did my concern with the mission over all else really became another reason to betray me? If so, I would be extremely disappointed in him because he’s more of an idiot than I thought he was. I turned around at the silver briefcase and began to walk towards it like there wasn’t an armed man about to shoot me.
“Hey! Hey! What do you think you’re doing!?” Thomas shouted at me as I continued walking to the briefcase. “After all I done, you’re seriously just gonna walk away?! I finally beat you and you’re not gonna even say a word?! DOES THIS ALSO NOT MATTER TO YOU?!” I picked up the Silver Briefcase and stood there, not even gazing at Thomas because I did next was purely to satisfy my own ego. To let him truly know how pathetic he was and ever will be.
“You’re right Thomas, you’re absolutely right, it doesn’t matter. It never did matter. Oh and as piece of advice from me to you, *don’t try to cheat the maker of the game*” I lifted my left arm and in that moment, a loud shot ranged out, followed by the painful scream and collapse of a human body. I looked over at Thomas, now bleeding on the ground in pain as a bullet went through his left leg. Despite him still holding the gun, he couldn’t properly aim it due to the Searing Round I told my sniper to use so that I can properly explain my deception to him. I walked towards him with the briefcase and looked down at him moaning in pain as he grabbed the wound through his leg.
“You see Thomas, I knew from the very start that you would betray me. It is only second nature for you. So I took the liberty of betraying you first, just to take the load off of your shoulders. It can be very stressful planning on when to betray your partner, so I just did it for you.” This is a lie of course, I didn’t do it out of favoritism, I only said to add a level of snark to my words to further irritate him, but instead of irritation, Thomas began to laugh. He laughed like there was something amusing about this to him, which perplexed me.
“Oh Hector, you bastard, you’re exactly like me! You always speak nonsense about how greed will be the downfall of Man, how stupid it was for human beings to put such value on the Trachyon Diamond, how a stupid little rock, as you put it, will drag men to their demise in order to even see it, but look at you now! You were going to betray me at the very start because of the Trachyon Diamond, you value, you kill for it, and you will betray your own partner over it. At your apathetic core, you’re just like us! A greedy little man whose willing to sacrifice everything just for something like the Trachyon Diamond-“
“There is no Trachyon Diamond, Thomas. It never existed.”
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jg4bnn1
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jg4auf3
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[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."
|
The Meridon Corporatocracy of the Rigel System had been self assured of their supremacy in declaring a hostile takeover of the human Federation colony world's. They had filed the pentabytes of bureaucratic applications to the Galatic Council, who oversaw all disputes, and readied their fleets.
The first encounters had been nothing less than a surprise, their energy based beam weapons were only capable of sub-light speeds. The humans had something else entirely, ultradense Canberranite self propelled kinetic munitions. A super stable artificially crafted metallic element strapped to a miniaturised FTL drive. The munitions ripped through the Meridonian ships like neutrons through matter, failing to even notice their presence as physical laws gave way to the particle insanity that had only ever existed in the moments after the big bang.
Communications blipped out, and it was only the panic driven instincts of a singular Commander that allowed the fleet Admirals any warning of what was to come. Fleeing from the sudden and terrorfying destruction of his comrades, only his ships FTL drives capable of outrunning the human weapons.
Tactics changed, where before the fleet had comprised of large battleships, production changed instantly to smaller single pilot hit and run fighters. The humans took casualities in the ensuing battles, but never a loss. It was hard enough finding the human fleets to engage them, let alone jump in fast enough to fire their energy weapons before a single kinetic engine turned their fighters into a cloud of quarks.
The galactic council observers watched the hostilities with grim and determined expressions. This was warfare as they had never seen it. Human history had lead them to believe they would be too divided to put up a defensive force, let alone put the Meridonians on the back foot.
It was their greatest folly to imagine such weapons were the limits of human engenuity. It was only after the peace negotiations were completed that the council discovered what had happened to the Rigel system. Ten quadrillion souls wiped out in a single turning of their planet Earth.
Two vessels had been sent to orbit the system, further out then the outer asteroid belts. FTL driven munitions were fired not at the planet, but at each other. The universes most drastic and extreme particle accelerator. Tons of ultra dense matter crashing into equal twins at faster than light speeds. Reality tore and a blackhole was born, that devoured the Rigel system even as it warped space-time about itself. It was small by galactic terms, just a wee baby. Barely the mass of a single star, but it was enough. Humanity had little qualms putting the boot into an aggressor.
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ku8zdp9
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ku8p8v3
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[WP] Years ago, your consciousness was copied and placed in a robotic body. You awaken 300 years later to an abandoned and overgrown city after a nuclear war.
|
I could feel the cold operating table through the gown. It was freezing cold, but in my mind I knew it was only slightly cold. My internal body temperature has been high from all the chemo in the past few months.
"It's alright. We'll be set up and ready to go in just a moment," Mr. Tusk told me, a wealthy man who's been obsessed with robotics and brain chips for decades. I have no idea if this mind transfer thing will even work, I mean his brain chips from a few years back ended up killing most of the patients, and those left alive reported migraines and neurological deficits. But this is the only chance I have at living past 24, as a rich mad scientist's guinea pig.
A few moments later men in lab coats attached several electrodes to my head, easy to do since the cancer treatments stripped me of my once full head of hair. Machines beeped and hummed. RD-13 was rolled in, a tall, strong robot body for me to have once the mind transfer was complete. A solid, self-repairing, versatile body that wouldn't ache and pain like my sick flesh body has been for years.
The doctor put a mask over my face "Count back from 100," he tells me.
"99...98...97...9...6..."
​
​
I wake up, eyes immediately scanning the area. I'm sitting upright, not laying down. The room is a lot less sterile than I thought hospitals were supposed to be. There's dirt, and even a few rats scurrying about. I look down, my hands no longer frail and pale, but mechanical, sleek in design. I feel strong, no longer do I have aches and chills. I smile, or I think I do, I don't think RD-13 has a mouth? I don't think *I* have a mouth. The doctors said I'd likely need to adjust to having a new body, especially one that doesn't need to eat, or sleep. I carefully take my first mechanical step. The dusty floor stirs awake with the movement. Movement feels different than I remember it, especially with the cobwebs on me, *gross.*
"Doctor?" I ask, surprised at my new robotic voice. "Doctor, where are you?" I go to open the door, and accidentally destroy the doorknob, my new robotic hand strength making quick work of the brass. The door creaks open. The hospital is empty, full of dirt, rats, empty containers laying about.
"What happened here?" I gasp as a web browser window pops open in my vision and does a search on news events. Articles popping up about corrupt politicians siding with robotics as free labor *Slavery with extra Steps* one article is headlined. The Robot Wars of 2056, the Climate Disasters of 2058, 2059, 2063, and 2068, the rapid dissolution of governments as corporations took over more directly instead of going through their politician puppets, the Peasant Revolutions all over the world, the RoboCops gunning them down without mercy, moral, and way smarter than human cops, and finally the Resistance breaking into the White House and setting off every nuclear weapon at once, cutting the global population and robotic population down to a tiny fraction of what it once was. That was 4 years ago, and no new news or social media posts since that day. There are only a handful of servers left for me to pull information off of, and 12.9% of the data I can access is porn, of course it is. It's a massive amount of information all at once. But my brain...or Motherboard? processes it all with high-speed reading and filling in the gaps.
"I have been asleep for three hundred and sixteen years," I say aloud. Did the doctors forget to boot me up or something? Or did it take 300 years to transfer my mind over? Hard to say.
"Are there people still around?" I ask. The web browser pops up with an error message "No recent census data is available anywhere in the world" a feminine robotic voice tells me.
I'm about to ask who she is, but I remember the doctors telling me about Aelita, the virtual assistant RD-13 is built with.
"Aelita, estimate the population based on the last known census data, and birth and death rates of the most recent report, and factor in any other relevant data,"
There's a soft humming, I can feel myself growing slower as Aelita uses up a lot of processing power for that task.
"I estimate the human population to be around 2000 to 6000 globally, and the robotic population to be 4,674,989 as of 11:28 PM last night when Circuit City in Sector 6 produced KCL-5093, a small cleaning service bot. "
I stand there a moment, no accurate data on humans, but an exact and recent count of robots...the robots won the war and there's so few humans left...
"Aelita, what is the consensus on humans who turned into robots?"
A hum as she processes and pulls up articles about how humans were transplanting themselves into robots to infiltrate enemy lines. They are not trusted on either side of the war. Humans think they lose their humanity being in a robot body for too long, and robots do not trust someone who was born instead of being made. Too robotic for the humans, too human for the robots. They are exiled from both sides.
"Well, shit."
|
Rebooting system... recollecting data... uploading data... complete.
Welcome to the world again....
At the sound of the voice, you open your eyes and blink at the war-torn gray sky. There's something strange about it, and you can't quite put your finger on it. Your eyes close and upon, hearing a click after every blink. Somewhere in the back of your memory, you know this is... strange.
Needing to get up is even stranger because your body feels stiff, but not the tension of muscles that you remember. This feels almost mechanical, the same "clicking" that you heard when blinking.
You use force to pull yourself free, and with a snap, you free your hand and move it in front of your face.
With widened eyes, shock races through you, but the sensation doesn't come physically. No. You can remember what shock feels like as it makes your blood run cold, your heart wildly beating miles a minute, and your head swims with nauseous.
No, you don't 'feel' that at all. You remember that feeling, but that's it.
Your panicked memory, however, forces you to pull at your body, and one by one, your limbs are free, and like your arm, you realize that your entire 'body' is the same.
A metal surfaces and indented lines replace what was once fleshy skin. You remember that skin was supposed to be soft, almost vulnerable, but now it is metal and impervious.
What happened? That, unfortunately, you don't remember.
You look around you and see that the building you are in has the roof blown off. The interior looks like it was massacred during some kind of storm. The metal floors and walls are sorched, though still staying strong. The equipment in the room, too, looks worse for where, but you know that's your only hint in finding out what happened to you.
So, with as much force as you can muster, you move your "mechanical" body and remember how you used to walk. Grabbing onto the sides of the large metal pod you had been attached to. Your legs are shaky, but with each push and thought of how you used to walk, it becomes effortless after a few failed attempts.
You trudge over to the machine and look at all the blown out keys, some more destroyed than others, and some look like they may still work while others have seen better days.
You see a button encased in a see-through glass. Unlike the others. This button is free of age-old wither and destruction. You flip the encasing off the button, and don't hesitate to push it - you need answers.
The button allows the machine to whir to life as it struggles to maintain a constant rhythm. It isn't until a 'bzzt' noise is heard from somewhere in the half-blown up building, and in the middle of the floor, a hologram appears.
There isn't a discernable face with the voice that speaks as it only shows images of men and women in white lab coats working in a medical facility. Only transferring over to an image of war where a brutal battle takes place and explosions are met with loud rocket like sounds that, before, would have made you cringe from the noise but now do nothing to you.
"... this all may seem very confusing, but you are one of many test subjects who have been used to test out the mechanized body. You, Case number X34, had forfeited your rights upon death row, like many others." The voice tells you and your mind while remembering what it feels like to be angry, used, and shocked. You don't 'feel' that, heck, you don't even feel your once beating heart.
"Like many people on death row, they were given the option to forfeit their bodies and having their minds placed into a mechanized body suit. This was our 'Save A Life' program to rehabilitate convicts like yourself to become functioning members of society again. Unfortunately..."
The voice takes a slow dramatic pause as continued images of the war are shown on the screen.
"... our plans would fall short as reigning countries fought for political power as nations do, but this was the worst of the worst exceeding events of WWII. We thought we had seen the last of it in WWIII, but we were wrong."
A nuclear bomb is seen from the images as it blows across half the world, watching thousands and millions of people being burned alive from the blast as they run for their lives before the footage then cut off.
"Our satellite system captured most of what happened on earth, but without a necessary human combatant operating the satellite dishes, it has stopped its full function. We record this, for the chance, if the program worked: disregard your old life and make a new with your body now. You may not be able to produce human life, but you can still 'live' as one. Do that for the millions who could not. This is your second chance at life. Don't waste it."
With that, the signal ends, and you are left alone, in a war-torn nuclear world with memories from a past life in a metal body.
You aren't sure how to take this, but one thing you do know is that you were given a second chance at life. Whatever you did in your past life, you would forget them, and you'd start anew.
You may not be human, but that doesn't matter like the recording said. You can continue to live like one for the many who could not.
And maybe, just maybe, if you were lucky enough to survive. There could be others. Like they said, you were one of many in the 'Save A life' program.
Besides, what other choice do you have....
((Hope you all enjoyed it. Something I just randomly scrambled together.))
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