🌟👽💫

"It looks like I win."

"It does look like that, doesn't it?"

"Admit you never stood a chance."

"You sound a bit insecure, demanding my validation."

It's true

I don't even know how I got here

You should only write in present tense with extreme caution.

not because it's bad or anything but because if you do it even once you're going to be editing the bits where you shifted tenses out of your writing for the rest of your life

"I wish I wasn't so weak."

"You're not meant to carry everything alone."

The audience roared, the energy electrifying.

"And there he is, folks! The Scarlet Fist! Our reigning champion remains undefeated!"

Jay panted from the center of the amphitheater, slick with sweat and blood. He smiled and licked the blood from his knuckles, eyes wild.

"What's this? A new challenger approaches! It's none other than the Sandstorm! He is the reigning regional champion two years running, but does he stand a chance against our all-time champion?!"

A sand mage sauntered into the ring. Powerful, cocky. A showboater. Jay let him demonstrate his power, twisting and forming the sand into a dragon. He flew atop the dragon and spewed balls of sand that blew craters into the ground and boundary walls. The audience cheered.

Jay rolled his shoulders. The sand mage had fans in the crowd. He should play around a bit and make it look like a challenge. One of the sand balls flew in his direction and he dodged. Then another, and another.

A snake made of sand came into form and coiled around Jay, stopping him from evading. Jay pretended to struggle in the snake's grip. The audience loved drama. He punched through the snake's body and the sand crumbled where he touched.

Spikes emerged from the ground, and Jay managed to evade mostly. He didn't think the audience noticed a bit of the spike crumbled away before it could pierce his foot.

Half of the snake struck again, and Jay yet again dodged. The snake hit the floor and burst into a mound of sand.

The mage swooped down with his sand dragon. A fatal mistake. Jay leapt on top of the dragon, and it crumbled mid-flight. They both tumbled and rolled onto the ring.

The mage stumbled back, exposed.

"Y-you must be cheating!" The mage shrieked. Jay laughed, because of course he was. This mage was woefully green. Jay tried to prolongue the fight a bit longer before punching out the unfortunate young fighter.

"Who else wants a piece?" Jay taunted.

--

It was a good day in the ring, and Jay had full pockets. He took his win to the local bar and was enjoying the open tab from his latest admirer. He was downing a pint when a young man slid into the chair beside him. The young man hardly looked the type for fighting rings, too nervous and too bookish, but Jay had seen all types. Possibly with coin.

"Business or pleasure?" Jay asked with a crooked smile.

"I-I know your secret," the young man stammered.

For a moment, Jay's smile flickered. "Oh, you think so?"

"You're no mage," the young man said, adjusting his glasses. "You're a walking power dampener. An, um, impressively powerful one, at that." He shrunk a little at the wild look in Jay's eye.

Jay's eyes darted around, and he grabbed the young man by his scruff.

"Keep your voice down," he growled. "Who sent you?"

"No one," the young man said. "I... I need your services."

"Business, then."

Jay released his hold. The young man smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt.

"Uh, well, m-my name is Lucas," the young man stammered. "I... I'm a student at Wingcrest University, and I'm studying for my Greater Healing degree with a concentration in Healing Ethics. Particularly, my thesis sheds light on the misuse and abuse of healing magic, as well as dangerous magic practices that are unfortunately commonplace."

He shifted. "Most healing centers deal with surface injuries and cosmetic healing and neglect internal injuries or cause clots from dangerously rapid healing. This is common knowledge among Healers, but it's largely considered a necessary evil that occasionally we'll lose some patients. I wanted to argue for stricter policies and show that such tragedies are, in fact, avoidable." He fiddled with a loose thread on his sleeve and bit his lip.

Jay rolled his eyes and groaned. He was going to get this kid's life story. He wasn't really interested in the inner workings of Healing Magic, and an attractive patron across the way was exchanging flirtatious glances at him.

"Sorry, I, uh, tend to ramble," Lucas mumbled. "S-so, um. During my research I stumbled upon a dangerous conspiracy. Depreciating healing magics."

"Where do I come in?" Jay asked, patience thin, eyes elsewhere."

"Oh. Yes." Lucas pulled back the collar of his shirt. "I-I may not look it, but I've, uh, been afflicted with a Wasting Curse. Are you familiar?"

Jay glanced over the sunken black and purple handprint, a hallmark of the Wasting Curse. "I've seen it in the ring. You need a Disenchanter," he said. "You should have no problem paying, being a student of Wingcrest. Get it treated sooner rather than later. It's not something to ignore."

"I-I've been," Lucas said. "To several."

"Well, yeah. It takes a few days to reverse." Jay said. "You need to be patient and follow your healer's advice."

"You don't understand," Lucas grit. "I've been to three different Disenchanters who claimed they can help me. But... The curse was custom-made, a variant they could have never possibly encountered before. It uses a form of malicious regeneration interlocked with my healing magic. A fitting punishment for my meddling."

Jay passed his glass back to the bartender for a refill. "So what does that mean?"

"Trying to remove the Wasting makes it spread," Lucas explained. "Each Disenchantment brings the curse closer to my heart."

"Listen, kid, that's awful," Jay said, "That really is. But what do you want me to do about it? You need a professional."

"I need a bodyguard, first of all," Lucas said. "Someone unaffected by magics."

Jay fixed him with a long, tired stare. "I'm not a body guard. Check the guild nearby."

Jay moved to slip away from the booth, but Lucas grabbed his arm. "I also need a strong power dampener. Someone who can block my magic and slow the spread of the curse."

"They sell power dampeners everywhere nowadays," Jay said dismissively.

"Yours is extremely, exceptionally powerful," Lucas said with a note of desperation. "I could fill an entire amphitheater with power dampeners to achieve a fraction of what you are. Whoever cast it on you was a master of the craft."

The flirtatious patron cast a final glance before leaving. Jay flopped back to his chair with a sullen expression.

"Listen, I know this isn't... How you want to spend your evening," Lucas worded tactfully. "But this is life or death for me, and I am willing to pay you very, very handsomely. Name your price."

"Give it a rest, kid," Jay sighed. "Just... I'm not a bodyguard. I have shows scheduled. I can't just walk out in the middle of a season."

"But I--"

He drained another pint. "And you're right, you do ramble," Jay grumbled. "You give me a headache." He patted him on the back and shoved past. "Good luck, kid."

"I'll tell," Lucas said.

Jay stopped in his tracks. "...What?"

"I'll tell everyone your secret."

Jay set his jaw, and turned with a raw fury. He grabbed the young man and pushed him back into the bar counter.

"You want to die tonight?" Jay hissed.

"You left me no choice," Lucas hissed back.

They stared each other down. Lucas shivered.

"You... You might as well," Lucas whispered, his voice cracking. "I'll be dead soon anyway." His lip quivered. "I'll be dead by morning."

Jay's anger faded. He took a deep breath and righted the young man, and smoothed out his rumpled shirt.

"Don't cry," Jay said. "Don't..." He shushed him.

Lucas made a good effort, trying to hold it in. This wasn't exactly the place for tears. He choked a bit and a sob escaped.

"I'm going to die, and so, so many people are going to die, because it's more profitable to keep them sick," he whispered. "They don't want my research getting out, and I'm not going to be able to save anyone."

"Oh... Shoot." Lucas's knees gave out, and Jay caught him just barely. He could feel his shirt get moist, and he gently patted his head. "Shoot, kid."

"All good, Jay?" The bartender called out.

"Yeah," Jay called back.

"Something for the kid?"

"I'm 27 years old," Lucas grumbled, wiping his eyes. "I'm not a kid."

"Yeah, grab one for the..." Jay paused for a double-take. "Wow, really? 27?" He eased the young man into a chair.

"I mean, I'm in graduate school," Lucas muttered. "...Was."

"Okay, yeah." Jay scratched his chin. "Listen, fine, I'll help you out. I'll tell my manager I have an injury from the last match and take the flack. In return, I need half up front."

"R-really?" Lucas lit up.

They discussed the amount and terms of payment over drinks.

"I appreciate your cooperation," Lucas said.

"And one more thing," Jay said, very somber. "This is very, very important."

Lucas nodded.

"Don't tell anyone about the whole... Power thing," Jay said. "I mean it."

Lucas frowned. "I will uphold my end if you uphold yours. I am a man of my word."

"... Fine, I'll take that," Jay said.

You are a gladiator that can win fight after fight against even the most powerful wizards. Your secret? You were cursed as a kid to nullify any magic that came close to you.

Beautiful arc and a good sense of weight

jumping fishboy :3

also quality is bad as before womp womp :c

The woman was barefoot and caked in mud and ash. Her eyes glared up at his. Glowing, hungry.

"Impossible," The prince huffed. "But an excellent bluff."

"They all are," she said, voice hollow, gesturing across the landscape.

She picked her way through the destruction, hardly breaking eye contact even as she stumbled.

The prince laughed, but the sound wasn't convincing, even to his own ears. "Save your breath," he said. "They... They must have moved farther east."

"...Without their helmets?" The woman said, picking up a partially melted helmet from the rubble.

The prince faltered. "That... That's my father's helmet," he gasped. He seemed to look at her with a new wariness.

"You know who I am," the woman said.

"Y-you're nothing more than a legend," the prince said. "You... You must have stolen the helmet. To trick me!"

The woman grew closer.

The prince's mount chuffed and backed away.

"S-Stay back!" The prince said.

The woman tilted her head, but she stopped. "Go."

"Go?..." The prince whimpered.

"Go back to where you came from, and tell your kingdom what you saw here."

The prince gulped. Nodded. Ran.

He did not pause until the woman completely faded from view.

"I knew he was afraid of my conquering army, but I didn't think he would be stupid enough to leave you behind." "Oh, no, you quite misunderstand. Your army's already dead."

Axolotls. Incredible little creatures. Effectively immortal if left underwater, and forever youthful. Axolotls regrow their limbs because of their regenerating cells. These same cells were found to be present, but dormant, in humans.

Biochemists determined a groundbreaking method to isolate and reactivate these dormant cells. First practiced on mice, they extracted a small amount of blood, agitated it with chemical stimulants, placed it in a centrifuge, and re-injected it into the mice. The mice for a short time experienced cell regrowth, and through trial and error they refined the process.

They named this formula Formula A18, named after the axolotles that inspired it, and the 18 chemical stimulants that it composed of.

The results were, in essence, incredible. Beyond being a treatment to stop aging, it in effect allowed patients to regrow limbs and organs. It was heralded as a cure-all and a miracle drug.

However, the process of extracting, treating, and re-injecting cells was costly, and treatment locations charged handsomely for the procedure. Likewise, it needed to be re-administered every two years, as the effects depreciated. Some patients had adverse reactions to the treatment, as well as a higher predisposition to malignant cancers. As you were part of the at-risk group, you were deemed ineligible for the treatment.

At first, people in your life refused the treatment. "Who knows what those scientists are putting into our bodies," they scoffed. "Better for you to avoid all that, anyway." You would've given anything to receive the treatment, then. You were paraplegic and in constant pain after an accident, and you would've given your life savings for one dose.

Then a new variant of Formula A18 was introduced, Formula AV23. This one was different-- it was cheaper, worked faster, and only required one administration. Instead of extracting and re-injecting the cells, a virus was developed to target and reactivate the dormant cells, creating a persistent and cascading regeneration of cells. The company who developed it was a rival of the creators of A18.

Again, you were denied the treatment on the grounds that you were part of an at-risk group.

Everyone but you was getting healthier. You got even more stares than you did before on the bus. People scolded you for not getting AV23. Some even accused you of attention-seeking.

Five years went by. You witnessed a friend develop a particularly aggressive cancer attributed to AV23. The creators of A18 went out of business, and the formula was bought up by yet another company.

Though the name didn't change, A18 underwent modifications to become more "cost-effective" and "accessible". The revised name was A24, and the cheapest so far. Much more, you were eligible for it.

By this point, research facilities had cut funding to cancer research and many other life-threatening illnesses. Many believed AV23 and A24 could effectively replace all healthcare, and those who cautioned the repercussions of allowing such research to lose funding became the minority.

You decided not to try A24.

Five more years, and companies continued to add chemicals, change names, and cut more corners. FDA allowed variants to be grandfathered in. Business was booming, and people around you were changing. It was subtle, at first.

You noticed people would wander in circles. Some would stare listlessly at walls. Regulars on the bus struggled to remember how to swipe their card.

Five more years.

Adult daycare centers popped up all over. Hospitals were packed. Companies denied all connection to the rise in cancer patients and mass cognitive decline.

Five more years.

A man in Idaho accidentally cut off his finger. When he arrived at the hospital, the finger was reported to have fully healed and grown a small network of organs.

A woman in Berlin found hair in teeth growing from a wound in her midsection.

Five more years.

Many who took one of the AV23 and A24 variants went sterile, and birthrate was at an all-time low. Children born during the early introduction of AV23 and A24 physically and mentally stagnated, with underdeveloped limbs, poor fine motor control, short attention spans, weak vocal cords, and very limited cognitive retention. They were known as the "Cherub Generation".

The man's pinky from Idaho was kept under close observation. It grew a mouth, lungs, and a digestive system, and was able to crawl and consume nutrients independently.

A social media trend called "pinky pets" is inspired by this phenomenon.

Five more years.

Though you never went for treatment, you are showing the same effects of regeneration as everyone around you. Reports show AV23, A24 and its variants created a virus that can be transmitted airborne. You are finally able to walk, but your wounds heal in strange ways, and your blood feels like it's crawling.

Systems are developed to handle human's shorter retention spans. De-aging products are a largely thing of the past. Swimming becomes an extraordinarily popular activity, and the Cherub Generation seems to swim exceptionally well.

On a cellular level, most humans have changed, yourself included. You notice your skin is tougher, and your eyesight a bit duller. Your hair falls out and webbing grows between your fingers and toes. A strange new organ grows alongside your lungs. You are no longer able to handle extreme cold like you used to.

Asexual reproduction becomes the only way for most people to reproduce.

Biochemists work around the clock to reverse the effects of the AV23/A24 virus.

Five more years. Humans enter the oceans. Amenities from above-land are redesigned for underwater use. Above-ground cities are largely inhabited by the rare few who were resistant to the AV23/A24 virus.

Deep in the lowest reaches of the ocean, where humans used to be unable to travel, you find others like you.

Scholars set to work to communicate with these ancient humans.

They lament the life you gave up, but they welcome you with open arms.

Humanity persists. Humanity stagnates.

Then, slowly, humanity seeks land, and the ability to change, to age, once again.

A drug is discovered that stops all effects of aging. You decide to not take it. 20 years pass and the side effects are discovered.

Okay but hear me out, this could make a fun prompt:

"You made three mistakes. One more, and it's all over."

There was a reviewer or commenter who said "I always keep track of how many mistakes the protagonist makes and after three, I stop reading the story and never look back".

I think about that person pretty frequently. We read for our own enjoyment, and therefore there's no wrong way to read a book so long as you're enjoying yourself, but ... maybe I don't actually believe that. Maybe there are wrong ways to read a book, and this guy found one.

Grace glowered over the laptop. "What makes you think you earned it?"

Felicity huffed. "We need to be able to work together."

"You're obsessing over this," Grace said.

"Trust is important if we want to crack this code."

"I'm helping you find your brother," Grace said. "That's the extent of this relationship."

Felicity sucked in a breath. "Oh. Fine. Yeah. I guess then, fine." She fiddled with the notepad in front of her. "So. Uh. How's your mom."

Grace slammed the laptop down. Felicity flinched.

"Stop. STOP IT, FELICITY! God, you ALWAYS do this! You always draw me back into your-- your family drama time and time again, and-- what? You think I owe you SMALL TALK?" She picked up the laptop and began stuffing it into her bag when Felicity touched her arm.

"Grace, I'm sorry, you're right," Felicity whispered. "I... You're the only one who... Helps me and I..." Her lip trembled.

Grace looked up at the sky and sighed. She released a long, low growl and placed the laptop back on the table. "Don't. Don't look at me with those eyes," Grace muttered. "I just... Stop. Stop trying to draw me back in."

"I'm not," Felicity protested. "I'm just--"

"Listen, let me do what I do best, and we can go back to never talking again," Grace said, voice hard. She tapped the keys of the laptop so aggressively it seemed they should pop off.

Felicity sat in total silence, watching Grace at work. For hours Grace worked, her anger slowly replaced with total concentration. Felicity tried to focus on her end of the research, but as the hours drew on she grew tired. She left to get two coffees, and returned to find Grace sitting back and looking very satisfied with herself.

"Come here," Grace said. "I found something."

Felicity set down the two coffee cups and stood behind her.

"The coordinates your brother sent you aren't his true coordinates," Grace explained. "They're the keys to a cipher. Look at this."

She typed the coordinates into Google Maps. "See? Every time he sends you a new coordinate, it's wildly different. This place is in the middle of the ocean. Buuut if we compare it to the letters he sent you," she reached over the stack of letters Felicity brought with her, "The letter that mentions the Atlantic Ocean? That's the key for that letter. So then, if we grab this, this, and this--"

"That's only a few hours away!" Felicity finished. She pulled Grace into an enormous hug. "Grace! Thank you thank you thank--" She froze, realizing her error.

Only, Grace looked frozen too. Felicity pulled up her arms quickly.

"Grace, look, please, I'm sorry--"

Grace closed her eyes. "I... You... Keep... Hurting me, Felicity. I can't keep doing this. I can't keep coming back to... This."

"I know. I understand. I... Thank you." Felicity moved to go.

"...Wait." Grace grabbed Felicity's hand. "You're not going alone, are you?"

Felicity blinked at her. "...Yes?"

Grace closed her eyes. "...Oh, you're going to be the death of me."

She gathered her laptop and grabbed the coffee.

"Come on, I'm driving," Grace muttered.

"Wait, really?" Felicity nearly squeaked.

Grace gave her ex a long suffering look.

"But this doesn't mean we're getting back together," she said firmly.

"Do you trust me?"

"You keep asking me that."

"You keep avoiding the question."

Oh goodness, I'm here for these vibes and would love a part 2.

Prompt #82

By @writingpromptsworld

The villain swore they could smell the hero's very prominent cologne in the dark office, and they had to resist the urge and not take every little thing away with them.

But no, they were on a mission. And they needed to focus, or else the supervillain would-

"You're the recruit, aren't you?" Someone spoke up, the voice was deep and smooth. They sounded amused.

The vilian froze, in the process of sniffing the hero's coat that hung on the chair behind their desk. They look up, alerted. And take out their gun. The person walked closer, and their face glowed under the moonlight. The village's eyes widened when they saw who it was.

The hero grinned. "Relax. I'm in no mood to fight."

The villain’s heart beat wildly in their chest. They didn't lower the gun, scared and in awe at the same time. The hero was even more good-looking in person as if that was possible. They gulped, and when the hero didn't come closer, they lowered the gun slowly.

The hero's grin only broadened. "Care to tell me why you were sniffing around my coat?" The villain's face immediately went scarlet, their heart dropping in their stomach. '

"Uhh…" They started. "I was searching…for potential information about your- next mission?" They really hadn't meant for it to come out as a question, but it did anyway and they cursed under their breath.

"And what is this crucial information you would find in there?" The hero played along, cocking their head to the side.

The villain opened their mouth and closed it, not sure how to tell the hero they were…curious. Well, curious is putting it lightly, they were obsessed, really. "Good question." They said, a second later.

The hero looked more entertained by the minute. They took a few more steps that brought them right in front of the villain, meeting their eyes. The hero's eyes were gray, like the moon, and glowing with mirth.

The villain checked out the hero before they could stop themself, their mouth drying at the sight.

The hero chuckled, "You're terrible at keeping a blank face. A really bad quality for a vilian if I say so myself."

Okay. That's it. Everything they had read about the hero was wrong. The hero wasn't stoic and ruthless as listed in their 'bio', they were something worse: flirty and dangerously good-looking.