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Consistency: 08/30/2022
In Discord Challenges
BlueBug
Aug 31, 2022
Ascend. Following your mission, a divine endeavor. To climb and reach for greater heights. Even if the whole mission, nay, the whole world was just a game to the two beings that summoned us. I found it vexing, yet exhilerating. A different purpose that could satisfy me more didn't come to mind. More than once I asked myself if I was put under a spell, just a marionette tied up by strings. The only strings I find myself tied in are the strings of fate, for they were too uncaring to exert power over me. It did not calm down my paranoia, a sure companion on my divine quest. The other four that went with us, may their blood pierce the future, they are not as interested in the mission. They are more adamant on exploring things for themselves. It reminded me of myself in the past, where I still was bloody and also self-minded. My blood may be gone, and my purpose changed, but that makes things all the better. I set out for the highest mountain, only to find out there were only hills. We were in the flatlands, the cave ceiling inching on us. Some days I wonder if a huge cave-in was going to happen and we would all be caught up in the tides. Then, I heard from a passing Klein, before his durasteel made good work of the crystals in this timeline and I had to jump back, of a gaping hole in the ceiling, very close to where we were originally summoned. The mission was clear, to conquer the ceiling above. What lay beyond the ceiling? First I had to find a way to fly. My first solution was with feathers. Our avian summoned could surely carry me up, provided I bribed it with enough carrots. I went to visit, but it turned me away with one wave of its wings. So, I considered alternate options. This mission, it had to be fulfilled. I could not already fail at the planning stage. I had many considerations, but none of them seemed to lead to the solution. In the end, my avian friend seemed to finish its rest, or whatever it did when it tucked in its head. Sometimes I get the feeling it never actually rested, but was observing, observing a small universe inside the corner of its wings. It agreed to take me flying, in exchange for a total of a bucket of carrots. I set out to farm carrots en-masse, glad to have my farming skills come in handy. The inhabitants seemed to never eat anything else beyond moss and insects. Carrots were likely indigestible to them, and procuring the land for my operation was another story in itself. Finally, carrots in hand and bucket, it took me flying. Higher and higher. Ascend. May the games grind and rust in the blood it spills, fueled by the Ancient still, until every last drop is spilled and we die not knowing our own.
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Consistency: 08/29/2022
In Discord Challenges
BlueBug
Aug 30, 2022
I woke up with the worst headache I had in recent memory. Urgh, why was I feeling like this? I wrapped the blankets tighter around me, only to jump back (metaphorically. I still was too tired for this shit). My hands were soft to the touch. I work in construction, stacking stone and shoveling dirt. My hands haven't felt this soft in a long time. Smooth like gel. Aah, now I understand. I was still sleeping, of course, of course. Doesn't explain my headache, but not the first time I felt pain in a dream. … Uh, wait, no, too detailed. The world is too detailed, and I, despite my headache, had clear enough thinking. Like, I wasn't thinking about space goth men. Mmmm, space goth men. Wake up. I threw my blanket off, and looked around my room. It was different from usual. Oh, Mandy must have been here, her favourite duck is now back on the top of my shelf. But… Why was Mandy in my room? I don't recall inviting her over recently. The more I looked, the more inconsistencies added up. My bed was turned the other way, one of my table legs was supported by a few books, and my chair was gone. The floor was mostly clean, as if I was in a hurry to clean things up. I bet I'd find most of my dirty stuff under my bed. I quickly looked beneath. Yep. So, yesterday, someone surprise visited me, among them Mandy. Good, time to ask Mandy what's up. But first, food. On the way to the kitchen I kept finding incongruenties. A sock that's out of place, shifted tables, the rug mising. I did find one half of the rug in the bathroom, but that left more questions for the other half. Arriving in the kitchen, I grabbed a piece of bread and bit into it, only to recoil back. "Ow" I stared at the bread. Fang marks were in the soft bread. Hesitantly I grabbed my phone and activated the camera. My own face stared back at me, lagging a bit. My hair was blonde instead of brown, my eyes were black with a hint of red, and my teeth were now more fang like. Did I turn into a vampire? "Oh hey, Jayko." A voice rang from the other room. I turned to him. A rather tall person, slim and so on. "Oh, you are already eating solids. Thought the doctor told you to lay off them for a while?" "Doctor?" "Uh, yeah, the dentist. Dentists are doctors too, right? They do lack the white coat, well, some." "When did I go to the dentist?" "Yesterday, duh. You also went to some glass store, stylist, skin care, honestly you did a lot for your body yesterday, except, well, uh, I'd argue some of it is not that healthy." "... I can't remember that at all? What else happened?" "You hugged Mandy and took her to your room. And Dendice. And you tried inviting me over too but I was having ice cream, which you heavily disliked. Never knew that before tho." "What? No! I love ice cream, and even if I didn't, why would I not invite you to my— Wait you said I hugged Mandy and Denice? But, we, are we, what? I thought she was in the city by the sea?" "You called her over for a hug." … I turned to the fridge, grabbed some jogurt, and sucked it out. Nothing I could really say. Some dreams are just crazier than others. Yep, definitely a dream. Nope, not something else. A cherry bumped against my fang and I cried out in pain. Why wasn't I under painkillers? "You know anything about the doctor?" "He is tall, has like his skin sewn from a recent operation, or so he said, and keeps calling himself Frankenstein's monster, saying that Frankenstein is the doctor not the creation." "Oh, oh, okay." Somewhere in the conversation I lost my grip on reality.
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Consistency: 08/28/2022
In Discord Challenges
BlueBug
Aug 29, 2022
A howl from the icesnow mountain tore through the village. Ice in snowflake patterns clung to the windows, turning the wood inside out. For most doors in the village it was worse. Made of lighter wood to open and close more easily, they opened their interior to the cold and closed the ice inside, bursting the door open into pieces. A second door, a hastily erected barricade, kept the cold at bay. Inside was barren. Stone table and shelves repurposed to a hearth, the wooden chair and books now embers. No smoke, only light and warmth. It killed nonetheless, a fire always consumed oxygen, but at least being inside was less scratchy and more muffled. Any hole to outside was, of course, sealed. Remained sealed during the ice winter. Only when the snow lessens, and the bite is not as cold, and the wind seems to go into a lull is the roof opened and outside air let in. To someone unfamiliar with the place, the roofs look comical, like Christmas hats hung up in the air. The hope was that thirty metres above the house the snow would stop piling up. But that day was not today. That day was the coming weeks, after the cold ascended above to the clouds. Huddled close to the embers were family or friends, warming each other with harsh rubbing and stomping boots. Cold comes for everyone, but preys on the lonely. When the last embers die out, and the whole phase is over, a sense of normalcy returns. The residents set out for food and wood almost immediately, trying to forget the grief through motions, only to be preyed upon and hunted down in the next cycle. One cycle, a child figured out a way to use inherent magic to stay warm. Inherent magic can only be taken from the recently deceased. And so the time of the maddening ice begins.
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Consistency: 08/27/2022
In Discord Challenges
BlueBug
Aug 28, 2022
I kept a schedule, for schedule was order, and the absence of it chaos. Too bad I was quite the chaot. I'm not saying my life was messy (though acquaintances—who I explicitely distance myself from—would disagree), it was in fact rather orderly. Went to school, graduated, went to uni, graduated, went to job, got one, now suffer, eventually go to rent, die. It's almost like a schedule, which made me anxious, since none of the schedules I made or was part of came to fruition. No, I was a chaot inside the barely scheduled life. Ordered and separated into slices, the cupboard looked quite nice, but open a drawer and you actually pour your stomach inside, assuming like most humans you can't handle alcohol when dizzy. Which I might note feels really bad. The cop I drank with the same night got so drunk, he funningly (or concerningly) thought he was on duty and tried to arrest me. Not the most pleasant police station visit. Er, where was I? Ah yeah, my ability to have a chaotic schedule. Or, a schedule filled with chaos. A schedule that runs on chaos? I mean, technically my brain runs on chaos, so any schedule I create runs on chaos too. Just need to show that chaos powder exists. Which makes it try to not exist, but it does. Sometimes I get a concerned call too, from a more distant friend usually. That's when I infect them with chaos myself, and show them… Uhhh Schedule was order, unless you had no schedule, then it's chaos, but having a schedule allows you to cause chaos inside the schedule. … Somehow that also is another thought drifting away, sinking into the ocean of chaos that is my brain. You can see some thoughts trying to stick for longer than two seconds, don't worry, none ever reached that point. Oh no, that's my alarm over there actually. Chaos has a schedule too! It's order within chaos, except uhhh Where did I put my schedule again? Oh drats not again.
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1
Consistency: 08/26/2022
In Discord Challenges
BlueBug
Aug 27, 2022
What is old is foisted around as ancient, what is ancient is buried or turned to dust. Too bad our modern magic relies on ancient materials. Well, "turned to dust" wasn't accurate, just a generalization of the inherent destructive process. We excavators were drilling for ancient ice, buried under new ice that layered on top. This ice has not been exposed to the grinding of time, and probably will net quite a sum. To force our way downwards, we first heat a few hundred fireballs deep, then, if no accidents happened, we carefully excavate the rest with a pickaxe. At that point, the ice is perhaps 300 years old, and thus quite prone to disturbations from our mana. In case you ever wondered why you are not allowed to cast mana in the centre, this is one reason. The other reason, of course, was so the guards can identify attackers. But I digress. Point is: The ice is ancient. And probably worth more than gold. Beyond 500 fireballs there are too many problems to dig deeper. Even if the "only" hazard is ice, most intrinsic warming spells can't handle temperatures that cold, and any spells cast will result in a disruption, making this job rather unattractive to most people. Any that do have the ability to venture deeper make more money contracted to the state or the powers. I can handle 450 fireballs deep, and mostly pick out tier seven artifacts. So, we have a somewhat steady supply of tier five to eight ancients. Tier eight of course is the most expensive. You can't judge the depth of an ice block just from the exposed surface, and eventually the hole is too large and taking more risks results in a cave-in. We seal up the hole with coloured water, and seal the surface. This is so that if we dig in the area again, we don't mistake it with fake ancient ice. Typically, I will go deep into nirvana for three months, then take a three month vacation while my company looks for the next ice hole to burrow into. The cold doesn't bother me, I have a dualcore fire ice, it's mostly the monotony that really eats away at me. No matter where you look, it's ice ice ice. At least the ice pays well. And who is there to complain when I take some of the ice for my personal projects? One of my projects was a fire golem. Cold fire. It's a surprising hit in Ashmael, turns out deserts are too hot even for fire dragons. I suppose some of them wanted friends over without them burning up. Can totally relate, and also makes for a cool look when they enter the place on fire. Another is a convenience machine. I sent it to a friend I know, and he repurposed it a little. So, instead of just making coffee and cooling leftovers, he now has an ice golem. Perhaps the golem could massage my shoulders? I should ask him to make one for me, I could use them down below. It sure would break up the monotony a bit, for the moments where I am too exhausted to safely move. And who is to say that I can't fiddle around with it myself? I don't know most golem stuff, but I can always make tools for it. Why don't more excavators— Oh, I forgot. It would interfere with the ancient ice. Drats. Guess my personal golem is vacation purposes only.
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0
Consistency: 08/25/2022
In Discord Challenges
BlueBug
Aug 26, 2022
Patrol the streets. Nothing more, nothing less. The warning rang clear in Toy's head when he patrolled the streets. Well, he says patrol, in reality he was walking alone, barely connected to other people through walkie-talkies. These were weird times. He still was not sure if the mafia were enforcing lockdown to fight the virus or to spread their power. A bit of both, his both had acknowledged, but his boss was not the boss boss. He walked past the closed second hand store, past barricaded restaurants, past malls, looking more deranged than ever before. The crowd before must have hidden away all the imperfections in the building. Now its shaky foundation was clear, and the stress was not helping. He met a delivery guy on the street. They were clearly visible through a yellow armband. The strange thing though? There was no delivery here at 3pm. "Hey! Who are you?" The delivery guy looked shocked at him. Toy twitched, and reached for his gun, when the other person stumbled and fell on her knees. He pointed the nuzzle to her side. She stared wide-eyed at him, didn't move. Don't point your thing at where you don't want to shoot. Do your job. Figure out the situation. "Why you here?" She steeled her expression. Her voice was rough, her English broken. "No delivery." "Yes, it has been cut down. So you went out?" "No delivery yesterday." "... That one should have been there. Contact the distributor?" "We did." It was nice to hear English again. Oh, he would have switched to Spanish if she didn't understand. Rarely the mafia spoke English to citizens after all, and he would eventually have to learn. Before the times, he wouldn't have bat an eye. If he wanted to hear English, he could just return to the US. "Okay. Go back, I'll handle it." Do your job, man. Nothing more. Stop getting involved. "When?" "Tonight." He'd have to call in a few favours, probably. Or he could just report to the distributor's boss. Based on her reaction, he could gauge why the mafia was locking the whole country down. "No food." She stared at him. "Go back." "No food." A shot, next to her. A warning. She stared blankly, stood up, and walked back from where she came from. He stared after her, until she walked away, and stared some more. When he continued his patrol, he was back focused on the job. Patrol the street. Nothing more, nothing less.
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0
Consistency: 08/24/2022
In Discord Challenges
BlueBug
Aug 24, 2022
I am nurtured by the light. Each and every ray of sunlight is absorbed, and sifted through. My rakes climb through the ocean of water. Waves and currents shook me off my path, directed me to a pillar to which I could not feel an end in sight. So my tendrils climbed the pillar, higher and higher. My rakes climb through the ocean of dirt. Animals and other plants shook me off my path, until I learned their behavior and made use of them. Nutrients given to me by animals hardened my exterior like bark, bark I climbed into the ocean of air. My rakes climb through the ocean of air. There was no pillar in the sky. I became my own pillar. Turbulent currents shook my pillar, threatening to make it fall. Birds come and go, adding to the weight. I climbed and climbed; until I felt lighter, and my water was cold, but boiling. My rakes reached beyond the ocean. What had sprung me to climb such heights? I tried to remember my birthplace. A piece of ocean that, as I can see from above, extended into a cavern below. I was a seed stranded by the tides of the ocean. It was here where I realized the futility of my actions. All my plants that extended into the world beyond withered and died. No currents or obstacles stood in my way; the absence of them stopped my climb. I channeled my effort to spread out. Farther, wider. My rakes climbed through the ocean of fate. Clung to a pillar where a day never ends, abandoned a pillar where a day never existed. From the very top of my body, a flower sprung forth. I had carefully pumped that seed to this place, and nurtured it. If I could not pass the barrier, perhaps the flower will do so in the next lifetime. Lofty below the clouds pass by White streaks in broad daylight The ocean air, water, mist Lurking danger.
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Consistency: 08/22/2022
In Discord Challenges
Consistency: 08/22/2022
In Discord Challenges
BlueBug
Aug 23, 2022
Esmoli inspected an object, turning it around in his hands. A cardboard box of some kind, for a purpose he didn't quite understand yet. Written on it, in that colour layer even their brightest fokineers couldn't replicate, were numbers, from one to twenty-four. Trash tells tales, trash from other realms especially so. So when in a timespan of one or two months they kept finding cardboard boxes, some unopened ones filled with chocolate, and other plastic packaging, all featuring the white god Santa Claus, Esmoli knew that there was some kind of tradition at hand. A sacrifice, perhaps? Offer all chocolate to the white god, to devour itself? This particular cardboard box read Santa's Advent Calendar and featured a house covered in snow. Inside, people sat in front of a fireplace, and drank something brown. An idea sprang forth in his mind; he slapped his head, hoping to get rid of it. But the resemblance was too uncanny. The chocolate, flesh of the white god, and the brown drink, steaming with air. Perhaps they were wrong. Perhaps the brown flesh was not an offering to the white god, but a breverage. He took out a couple of the chocolate, and held them over fire. The drops he collected in a bowl, typically used for blood sacrifices but now devoid of liquid, until the whole chocolate has melted. While it is still a liquid, he extended his proboscis, a small trunk, smaller than that of a mosquito, and carefully sucked it up. He was found unconscious, not even waking months later. Identifying the liquid as liquid chocolate, and him as a fool for drinking the body of the white god, his people-equal avoided him, and so didn't hear a faint jolly laugh. Ho Ho Ho
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1
Consistency: 08/21/2022
In Discord Challenges
BlueBug
Aug 22, 2022
He could not count. Could not, not as in "I am bad at math" but "I cannot comprehend numbers". It ended up not mattering that much, learning all the solutions by memory. 1+1=2. 2+2=4. 4+4=8. What is 84+15? Do the algorithm. Don't think about the number. Initially just a mutter from his mother; this phrase never abandoned him in his lifetime. He still miraculously passed through school. School was more transfixed on understanding and memorizing techniques, and less on what the techniques are applied to. He always failed at text based questions, luckily they appeared not that often. Things proved more difficult when he applied for a job. Turns out, you cannot be a cashier without understanding numbers. He read the numbers off and put them in, but when it came to deals, barters, returns, and actually understanding what he was doing, he was left clueless. It took five years for him to get fired, and he was not sure if it actually was because of his math or because his salary went too high and the business wanted to cut down on costs in advance. Nevertheless he did not want to be a cashier again. He became a technician, thanks to his great grasp on techniques. However, when it came to reading off the levels and understanding them, he was stumped yet again. What does even 30 Volt mean? He was just comparing and matching the numbers to the memorized ones in his head. That job lasted for longer, but eventually the company went bankrupt and he, now angry and frustrated that such a concept that didn't elude primary school students eluded him. It was with his last client where he made that realization. A child was there, and he asked what these numbers mean. He rattled off the textbook definition he memorized, and the child's eyes all brightened up and asked, "so does that mean Goku has many Watts?" While stammering out an answer, it was that evening where he realized: No, the other students didn't memorize everything like he did. They didn't memorize the techniques, the many vocabulary cards with equation after equation trying to remember all the different outcomes. Even primary students saw something more in the numbers than he now at a rather old age. It was with this frustration that he entered pension. Surely, he thought, surely he can't be the only one. But there were signs that he was, or at least very rare and unexpected. The way the textbooks were structured. The way his teacher shook his head at him, and how the other kids looked at him. Tossing a coin he walked through the park. He was now old and had white hair, but still lively. Perhaps staying alive out of pure spite, he thought that maybe he could still comprehend the numbers. Much too late, and perhaps to no effect, but he could still try. He hired many tutors and debated with them about numbers. The tutors treated him like an idiot, but he did not care anymore. He rested with a gleeful smile. His will, the last remaining amount of his money, carefully counted and converted to a number, were to be passed on. The attorney had to help him a few times; fundamentally he understood now. One and one is two.
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0
Consistency: 08/20/2022
In Discord Challenges
BlueBug
Aug 21, 2022
CW: Violence and gore Hiishkri rested on top of the hill, his eyes closed. From a distance the fire still rumbled. Pillars turned and the gate, which had hidden the village for so long, only festered the flames. Spreading destruction. He ended up in the bad timeline, and had no way to communicate with himself in alternate timelines. The cave with the crystals had been found by the Klein, and Chryst was doomed. Oddly enough, the end of his entire race did not mean anything to Hiishkri, not as much as losing his connection to himself. The messages were short, and often reduced down to what essentially amounted to a few scribbles. So why did he feel so lonely? So sad and alone? Feel like a pebble kicked around. Incomplete. Someone had wedged a durasteel sword into his heart, only to go like "oops" and pull it out, and with it the skewered heart. Now the flames burn even brighter. He doubted he could re-create the cave. Maybe he could still send a message, but it's more important that they never knew what the crystals were used for. He would perish here, and with him his village, but maybe in a different timeline, he would win. Would hide away until the Klein could not find him. What were they even thinking, challenging the Klein? It didn't feel possible, not now, not before, not in some distant future. Was the village elder suicidal? Whatever. They were found, they were spotted, bad timeline, go next. Even if he dies here, hope was not lost. There has to be at least one where they can continue living.
3
0
Consistency: 08/19/2022
In Discord Challenges
BlueBug
Aug 20, 2022
In a time where the wild was more dangerous now, campers set up traps before the night, only to remove them in the next morning. Very much like this, I now set out to destroy my alarm clocks from disrupting my sleep. I'm sure I had great ambitions yesterday. Oh yes, I will wake up at 8 AM, and it is going to be glorious. I am now up, but deeply wish to return back to sleep. That meant either trying to ignore the alarm clocks, or turning them off. A few pointless minutes later I realized ignoring didn't help, as I realized every morning. So I set out to turn off the alarm clocks. There were three in total, one on my phone, one on the table across the room, and one in the bathroom, all while still staying tired enough to return to sleep. The phone was annoying. I needed to open it to make it not go on slumber, and it did not recognize my sleepy face. Instead, I powered it off completely. That's one clock done. The next clock told me the time throughout the day. It had an alarm clock function, which my parents enabled and I didn't bother to disable. I quickly removed the batteries (much easier than these from my phone for some reason) and also shut it off. Now, the last alarm clock was the real deal. It went off once every five minutes, to lure me into a false sense of security before shrilling about once again. The shrill shriek cut through closed doors and walls, startled me awake, and then I could pretend that I was going to get up in these five minutes, only to not get up and try to go back to sleep, for the shriek to once again startle me awake. Not today. I stumbled through the door, not really caring what my legs stumbled against. My eyes were still closed, keeping that sand inside. A few steps later, I felt the clock in my hand, felt the smooth pattern on the exterior, felt the ticks and remembered my grandfather's hand— It shrieked in my hands, and I almost let it drop. I looked at the clock in my hand. It was safe. Unfortunately, I was awake. Quietly, I shut the alarm off and went to my wardrobe. Today was going to be a long day.
3
0
Consistency: 08/18/2022
In Discord Challenges
BlueBug
Aug 19, 2022
Every day at The Last Bastion starts with a quiet beeping at three AM. Servants trod between halls, cleaning and dusting everything. Guardians stood in place, visor aimed at the hallway. Cooks flared up to life, cleaning cutting boards and checking the inventory. At five AM the morning bells rang. The lights flared up all at once, as if all of the lights on all five floors were controlled by only one light switch. More servants than before now ran about the Last Bastion, an underwater bunker. It is seven AM. Breakfast was served. Servants stood side by side in the dining hall, ready to serve food and meet requests. Otherwise, no one ate. The hall was empty. It was another miserable day for the head chef. No one would eat his food! Electricity flickered in and out as the machination tried to come up with better food. Perhaps there was too little soy sauce in the sushi? Should he add some chili to the rice? The servants weren't capable of feeling. They had less computing power, but what they lacked in quality they made up in quantity. Hundreds, if not thousands of metal servants were ready to serve the people on the Last Bastion. At any point, the Head Servant could take over, for when emotion was actually required; humans tended to be unsettled if their servants were self-aware and unable to resist their commands. The Head Servant was having a good day. No human needed their assistance. It was a comparably relaxing day. Finally, the Rationer ended breakfast with a light toast. "Live on! For humanity!" The hall stayed silent.
1
0
Consistency: 08/17/2022
In Discord Challenges
BlueBug
Aug 18, 2022
There once was a cat. She had the grin of a prankster, a nose that twitched in grass, and orange, striped fur soft like moss. Most of her day and night was spent napping in a small hole, in the shade of the hill, or on a branch of a tree. When she was awake and hunted prey, she revelled in how they squeaked and squirmed around. It made her mouth water. But alas, they were too weak and died too soon. She spent her days just relaxing in the sun and taking in the simple pleasures of life. A cat most sage and wise. As she grew older, there were sounds that kept her awake at night, that turned a light nap into restless tossing and anxious climbing. The sounds of weak mewling. Kittens. They stayed throughout the year, and she could not find them no matter how much she followed the sound. She would end up walking circles, and feel foolish at her futile attempts. One day she fell down a hole. She had been careless and was chasing a red bug that kept jumping away. It was so small, fitting even in her paw, but was agile enough to just run away. One jump later, the dirt under her caved in and she found herself inside a hole. The mewling was closer than before. She followed the sounds, through the narrow tunnels, the many caves, and at more than one turn she wondered why other cats would venture this deep. What were they hiding from? Cold air shook her out of her thoughts. Emerging from a crack, she found the tunnel large and wide, open and without cover. The mewling came from far deeper in, behind a large gap in the wall. She hugged the walls and basically crouched her way inside. Her ears lay flat. Inside the room was a small black box. The mewling came from inside. She walked up to it, curious. The box had a net pattern on one side, the other sides were all flat. She pawed it, and it stopped mewling. What? Did she kill it? But she didn't intend to! She just wanted to see how much it weighs! Now, there were no sounds that kept her awake at night. Her light naps still turned into restless sleep until finally that too disappeared into nowhere.
3
0
Consistency: 08/16/2022
In Discord Challenges
BlueBug
Aug 17, 2022
CW: Rats and Cats Fiona stared at a rat. She was losing the staring contest, and losing her apartment and her mind to the rats. She had tried so many things. Bought a cat, bought cage traps (to throw them out later, she wasn't cruel), but all for naught. The rats were here to stay. One time she got up for breakfast, but all her food was gone with a rat stuck inside the refridgerator. It was not really moving much, but Fiona thought it was still alive. She put the rat outside, and then went to work hungry. The next day she hired a few rat exterminators, but they wanted to use poison and there's no way she'd allow any poison inside her apartment, with how clumsy and careless she was. The cat might also accidentily eat it, and Fiona got rather attached to her. Deep in her thoughts, she entered another staring contest with the rat. Why do they even decide to stay here? She barricaded the openings in her walls she could spot, and plugged in all the pipes she could find. There surely were still hiding places in her apartment, but access to the outside should just have gotten a lot worse. She then also paid attention to not leave food lying around. If any more got caught in her fridge, so be it, she'll properly kick them out after. The cat also seems to have caught her energy, and pounced for the rats with more zeal, but never catching any. Gradually the rats lessened. There were no more scurrying rats with whom she could hold a staring contest with.But truly gone, the rats never were. At night when Fiona was tucked in her bed and asleep from the horrors of her apartment, the cat quietly leaped out of the window, and returned with a living rat.
2
0
Consistency: 08/15/2022
In Discord Challenges
BlueBug
Aug 16, 2022
The top of an old foggy hill left unclaimed by humanity was made of stone. Only in a few spots cracks spread out like a soggy spidernet. In one of them, a small tree grew. The tree was small because it cannot grow beyond the stone, but it very much experienced many changing seasons. Its favourite season, if able to have such a thought as a favourite, would be spring, when winter is over and the hiding leaves turns into nurturing new leaves. It very much adored and protected the leaves with the zeal of a newborn's parents. Then in summer, it would watch the leaves grow to full. In autumn, they fall and leave for what lay on the horizon; those that stay wither away, succumbing to the cold winter. There was no protection on the hill. Only a tree on a stone top. The many changing seasons left the tree bereft of a home, alone on top of the hill for most of the time. One fall, a raven landed on one of its branches. Now, while this has happened before, not many a raven sang and grabbed the leaves with its beak. Rarely it left to hunt and to find treasure. The raven spoke of flying south to where there is summer. The tree, impressed and confused that there can be such a thing as summer elsewhere, entrusted its best leaves with the raven, to carry them there and visit summer again. The raven sang once more, and left before winter, clutching in his claws a few still green leaves into the sun. It rested a few times, every time treasuring the leaves in its beak, never swallowing them. On the tree top, still the raven's treasures it found, to be claimed when it returns and summer is with the tree. The tree was alone once more on the stone top of a hill left abandoned.
3
0
Consistency: 08/14/2022
In Discord Challenges
BlueBug
Aug 15, 2022
Blake entered the room, waving a hand at Wre. Wre responded by proudly holding up a diagram, and although it was hard to tell with the many scribbles on it, it did look like a timeline. "Heyo Blake, how was your nap?" "It was quite nice. Waking up was a bit weird though. What happened? The house looks completely different, I don't recognize any of the furniture designs, and you look like you aged ten years." "Well, you see"—Wre smirked—"the short version is that we all got caught up in a magic spell and fought our way out. You make a surprisingly durable shield." Blake raised an eyebrow. Wre just shrugged in response. "As for the long version, may I interest you"—he waved his hand dramatically at the timeline on the wall—"In this?" "Yeah sure, hit me up. Why don't you start with uhh, the magic circle. Also, I'm still dreaming, aren't I? There's no way Dan would ever become such a dramatic person." Wre shushed Blake. "I'm called Wre now. I can't really prove you aren't dreaming, I hope that it's all too convoluted and confusing but will make too much sense that you'll end up believing me." "Hit me with it, Wre." "It all started"—he raised his arms dramatically—"with your nap. A dimensional mage fourth order decided he has a grudge against our house, and ports it to a different dimension, much like we would take out trash." "Uh huh, very believable." This was the weirdest prank ever. "Greg got caught along, though you may wanna call her Samanda now, and of course you and I also were transported. Some kind of seer was expecting our arrival. We were trying to wake you up, but the seer said that you won't wake up in this dimension, and that we need to protect you to return home." "I thought you didn't believe in that seeing the future stuff." "I still don't, neither did the seer. She was talking about the past, because time flows backwards, and that's why we need the timeline. Look, we start here on the right, after the dimensional mage tossed us here. Before, or for you maybe easier, next thing we did was enter the village, after hunting some monsters." Blake's face turned into that of a frown and a goofy smile. Did Wre lose a bet? "Here's where we met the elves, and before that we fought against some slimes. Stupid slimey goo. Then, here at the beginning, we beat the demon king, and were transported" —"back home?"—"To the previous dimension, which is also the next dimension. You can see that we start here in the middle. Time was out of order here, so we hid behind your body. That's when you decided to fart." Blake touched his forehead with his fingertips. He knew he sometimes farted in his sleep, but this was just embarassing. "Samanda, being the good girl she was, decided to kick you in the butt, and so we were caught up in the tides of time. By sheer luck, we end up back in our dimension, on the other side of the origin. The origin," Wre added at seeing Blake's confused, and resigned look, "is where all the universes of similar dimensions come from. The universe we were in was not our universe though." He wildly pointed at the beginning of the timeline. A ton of scribbles were added, stuff Samanda would totally write. Very orderly, very structured, so unlike him. Fuck, this was real. "So, here is where we met other lifeforms. They didn't really like sleeping people, reminded them too much of the dead, so they kicked us out in one of their spaceships. Luckily, Drrskskkss knew how to hack into them." "So that's how we got back?" "Nah, we're still on the ship." "Oh." A rumble shook the room. Alerts flared up. "We're under attack. Quick, Blake, into the pods!" "The what?" "Pods, pods!" Wre pushed Blake out of the room down the hallway into a more isolated room. Escape Pod read the letters, R-13-24-19BT. One of the pods opened with a hiss and steam. Still very numbed and in disbelief by everything, Blake entered the pod. "Good night; May you live on." "Wait, what about you?" "My duty is to the ship." "What the fuck, Wre?" Blake struggled against the pod. "You just sacrifice yourself for some ship? Is this really what you do after bearing with my fart?" The sleeping gas kicked in. Blake's eyelids struggled, before they rested down. Wre smiled, and pulled off his mask. "Oh yes. Your fart was so terrible, we just had to pull that prank on you."
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