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irrepressible-domovoy · 5 years

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Hatred’s Lies

So @mmmmmmmmmchicken sent @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars an ask with an idea in it and I couldn’t help myself. (The ask can be found here)

The only things you need to know are that Batman exists in this universe, Flash Thompson is DC’s Flash but still in New York, Peter and Flash (the hero) are friends, and I did not actually like Flash Thompson before I wrote this so, chicken person, you are now Victor Frankenstein and I am your Prometheus.

Spiderman landed on the roof of the office building.

The area was quiet and empty (for New York) and Karen had said that there wasn’t anything on the police scanners that required the aid of a superhero, so he had to admit that this Flash guy really knew the timing and place to set up a meeting.

Originally, when a new hero showed up with the same name as his school bully, Peter had been… reluctant to trust him, but the other boy was about his age and had less experience so he had tried his best to be a good ally. What was the point of being called the “friendly, neighborhood Spiderman” if you didn’t act like it?

“Hey, Web-Head!”

Spiderman, if he was anyone else without his spidey-sense, would’ve jumped out of his skin at the sudden appearance of the fire-engine shaded hero.

“Right on time as usual.”

Flash shrugged, smirking.

Both boys sat on the edge of the building, taking in the view of their city.

“Anything interesting happen tonight?”

The web-slinger shrugged.

“The usual muggers, but nothing really bad.” He smiled under the mask. “It was nice having a peaceful night for once.”

The other boy snorted obnoxiously.

“Come on, man. We’re superheroes.” He laid back with his hands folded behind his head. “Too many slow nights and we become irrelevant.”

Peter frowned, his goggles adjusting with a whir.

“We’re not just here to beat up bad guys.”

“What else is there?” His voice sounded sad.

Peter thought a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“We show the weak that there is someone looking out for them and the strong that they don’t have to be bullies.”

Flash tensed, almost imperceptibly.

“What about the weak ones who think they’re better than everyone else?”

Peter kicked his legs, drumming against the brick.

“Why do you ask?”

Flash sat up quickly; not with his superspeed, but too fast for him to not be upset.

Peter watched as he chewed his lower lip nervously.

“Okay, it’s like this,” he finally began. “There’s this kid at my school. He thinks he’s smarter than everyone else and he’s always making me look like an idiot and he somehow got this internship for one of the richest, most brilliant people in the world from sheer luck or maybe it was out of pity?”

Peter put a hand on his friend’s arm to ground him. Flash deflated, tears sliding down his cheeks.

“I had to get my ‘internship,’” He used air-quotes around the word. “By almost dying and nearly getting arrested when I broke into the only lab in the country that had the equipment to keep me alive.”

Peter jolted.

“You what?” He knew his voice came out in a whispered squeak, but he couldn’t make it any louder.

“Oh, yeah. My cells were flying apart.” The speedster wiped at his face and sniffed. “Lab accident over the summer. I went to Gotham, you know about Wayne Enterprises? They had something that could help and I had no choice but to try and take it.”

“Flash.”

The other boy waved off his concern.

“Batman actually found me and saw me when I was, uh, glitching; took me in and trained me.” He gave a dry, self-deprecating laugh. “And unlike the kid at school, I can’t even tell anybody that I have an internship.”

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but he really wasn’t sure what to say.

“I think you’re pretty cool.”

The other boy glanced over.

“I think that, if the other kids at your school have taken the time to get to know you, they’ve seen it, too.”

Flash rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I don’t think you’d recognize the person I am at school.”

Peter frowned, but didn’t comment. Instead, he let them lapse into silence as a police siren sang out through the night. (Karen reported it wasn’t necessary to interfere)

Flash brought a hand to his cowl and began to lift it up. Peter’s hands went flying and dragged it back down with his eyes screwed shut.

“Dude, what the heck?”

“Sorry, sorry.” Peter pulled his hands away but slapped them back on top of Flash’s when he returned them to his mask. “I’m just kinda paranoid about the whole secret identity thing and- I- You know?”

Flash huffed a laugh.

“It’s fine, Spidey. You don’t have to take off your mask, but I’ve been crying like a baby and dry tears are itchy under a kevlar mask so I’d really like to get this off.”

Peter took his hands away.

“Besides, you’ve heard everything else about my life anyway. Might as well get my name, too.”

Flash’s cowl came off to reveal…

Flash.

Flash from school.

The bully. The kid who haunted Peter’s nightmares.

Peter couldn’t hear his “friend’s” words as he stood and began pacing the roof, but his voice penetrated the fog that had descended.

Breathe, Peter. That little voice in his head that sounded like Uncle Ben. Sometimes pain makes people do things that even they don’t understand.

Peter stopped and breathed deeply through his nose. When he spoke, he made sure his voice was even and calm.

“You talked about the kid at school.”

Flash nodded. He had stood at some point and was looking sheepish and uncomfortable. Peter squashed down the dark joy at that.

“I have one question and then I’ll leave it alone.” He closed his eyes. “Have you ever bullied him?”

Flash looked to his feet and swallowed.

“I told you you wouldn’t recognize me at school.”

Peter sighed and looked to the skies. You couldn’t really see the stars here, but he knew they were up there somewhere.

“I know I shouldn’t and I know it’s wrong.” Flash slumped to the ground, leaning against an air conditioning unit. “It just quiets my own head for a little while, ya know?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Peter sat next to him, crossing his legs and removing his own mask. “Just don’t do it anymore, alright?”

#flash #flash thompson #marvel #mcu #dc #spiderman #sm:hc #peter parker #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #writing #story #ficlet #prompt #spider-man

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the-foxwolf · 6 years

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Places to Go and Stories to Tell: The Wild West, Oceania, Feudal Japan, and Vikings

The Foxwolf is back! As an avid Vorthos and a natural storyteller, I’m excited to once again share my talents with you all.

This article lists four places I think the Magic Story could go and the type of story I’d like to see in each of those worlds. This exercise would be a little dry if I just listed things out. I figured it would be more fun, and expressive, to give you all a short glimpse of what a story there might look like. This article is a little different than the kind I normally do. But I’m fairly confident that if you sit down to read it, you’ll find you enjoy it. Let me know what you think! And enjoy!

It’s good to be back. Writing. Sharing my love for story telling again.

Gather `Round Everyone! It’s Story Telling Time!

(Omniscience: Magic 2013) (Art by Jason Chan)

Format

As you read through you’ll see the header for a section with a setting and some defining characteristics of that setting. I’ll then move into describing what that world might look like, the characters it might have, the environment and conflicts within the world, and the potential storyline I could easily see happening in said environment. It’s an easy, fun read, that provides you my thoughts on what I see coming in Magic’s future.

Wild West: Spellslingers and Railroads

Sheriff Chandra steps out of the saloon, appreciating how the rising sun paints the sky into a canvassed pastel orange. Chandra breathes in the dry desert air of this dusty Frontier town. She lets it out slowly, eyes closed, hands on her hips, the warmth of the sun caressing her face, and takes in the world around her with all her senses. The Frontier air is charged with sensations and emotions. She can taste the unbridled hope and opportunity the Frontier has to offer; her skin shivers at the feeling of the electric static of the thrill of discovery all around her; the lizards scuttle across the floorboards beneath her boots and the jackalopes scurry into the brush at the sound of her clinking spurs; the sweat of the hard working people doing their best every day to thrive in this harsh world; all these things flood her senses and for a brief moment, she is lost in the romanticism of it all. But that moment quickly fades. She knows that the Frontier isn’t the romantic dream the East makes it out to be. The rolling tumbleweeds who witnessed the bloody fate of the evicted natives whose promises of peace were betrayed by greed, protest by clumsily beating around the town- uselessly silent. Eagles and vultures circling above the town screech, echoing the pain the land itself feels with each new drill the Aether Barons order constructed. The Rail Monger’s train tracks are greased with the sweat of the imported indentured goblins and the tears of the settlers who are extorted into poverty by the extreme shipping costs. Chandra takes off her hat and presses it gently against her chest in a moment of respectful silence. She puts it back and taps the badge, the sigil of the Gatewatch, on her cowhide jacket twice, reminding herself of the oath she made just a few years ago:

“Every world has its tyrants, following their own desires with no concern for the people they step on. They’re no different from the Eldrazi....If it means that people can live in freedom, yeah, I’ll keep watch...”

(Oath of Chandra: Oath of the Gatewatch) (Art by Wesley Burt)

She whistles for Ashaya, the Sun Stallion and watches as a beam of sunlight materializes into the majestic, noble, horse Nissa had taught her to summon. Chandra mounts Ashaya and checks her Spell-Slinger Gauntlets. With a flex of her hand, a small mote of concentrated Red Mana puffs into existence at her fingertips and proceeds to start circling her extended index finger. This tiny mote of energy could burn through bone like a hot knife cuts through butter. With another flex of her hand, she extinguishes the mote. Satisfied her equipment is in order, she taps on Ashaya’s neck, motioning him towards the plateau to the West, near where the Sun Foot Tribe was last seen. “My mom always believed that I could be a leader. I’m starting to believe she’s right. Let’s go make my mother proud, Ashaya.”

Oceania: Islands and Atlantis

The salty sting of the sea air carried upon the cool breeze tickles Nissa’s nose as she sits quietly just within reach of the lapping ocean waves. In the distance she can hear the rhythmic drums and the upbeat flutes of the islanders as they celebrate their annual Fire God festival. The scent of roasted swine rises from the thin grey cooking fires at the center of the nearby village. Above, a sea gull screeches and below, the ocean once again rolls in around Nissa, playfully embracing her as she meditates. Searching the soul of the world, she senses the snuffing out of another island-searing lava scorching it down to the sands, leaving only obsidian behind. The second island, this week. The fifth this month. Jace finalizes his inspection of the ship the islanders so happily helped him build. Though they have never built anything quite like it, Jace was able to telepathically share the shipbuilding skills and knowledge he learned on Ixalan. They have enough supplies to last them well over a month. He glances at Nissa and decides not to disturb her. Instead, he heads into his cabin and once again presses his palms against the table, already starting to wear in those places by the constant pressure and practice, and gazes upon the chart before him. Though it had required a lot of sailing in ships he was far less familiar piloting, he and Nissa had managed to visit enough islands for Jace to glean a fairly accurate map from the collected thoughts of the most experienced sailors of each village. But now they were ready. At every stop, Nissa spent most of her time meditating, searching the sea floor, communing with the world’s soul, seeking for the sunken city of Atlantis. Between all her hard work and all of Jace’s research, they are close to finding its exact position.

(Island: Magic 2010) (Art by Fred Fields)

But their time is running short. Volcanoes, both underwater and those above, that have been silent and slumbering for millennia are awakening with a tremendous violence. Entire islands have been washed away. Others have been buried beneath molten rock. If the stories sung in the songs of the Slumbering Fire God are true, then the only way to stop these devastating disasters is to find Atlantis and search the secrets therein for a way to calm the unruly world. Of all the worlds Jace had ever learned about, of all the worlds Nissa had ever touched, this one was the most innocent. Yes, every village has its quarrels and grudges and power struggles. And on the rare occasion neighboring islands might even go to war against one another. But compared to many of the worlds the Gatewatch had operated in... well...saving this one had a personal stake for them. Jace looks up toward the far end of the island and sees a boat, similar to his own, approaching. Finjamin! The merfolk biomancer who had gone to Ravnica to implore the Gatewatch for their help had gathered the bravest souls from the archipelago. Not one of them could possibly have been older than two dozen years. Yet they dared to brave the seas in search of the sunken city, from whence no explorer had ever returned from whence they had sought to find. Nissa smiles, sensing the ship approaching before she sees it. She stands and dusts the sand from her skirt, saying, “See what we are here for, Jace. For the life of every plane, and every life it nurtures.” The telepath nods and takes a moment to look beyond the mission, to see the world they were here to help save. He smiles. “For the people.” He says to himself, leaning on the rails. “Let‘s go find Atlantis, Nissa. Let’s save the world.”

Feudal Japan: Ninjas and Samurais

Liliana walks upon the wooden floor of her courtyard, along the coy ponds, and amidst the blooming Cherry Blossoms. The running water between the several ponds babbles a soft melody in the background. She reaches up and plucks a flower from a branch. The necromancer smells it and allows herself to smile for just a moment...before slowly proceeding to tear it apart, one petal at a time until at last she crumbles the remains in her black, silken, gloved hands, and scatters the remains in the gentle breeze. A soft, warm, orange from the setting sun colors the sky and graces her face as she heads back into her palace. The smell of incense greets her as she slides open the doors and walks in. Running her hand along the wooden walls, her mauve silken kimono’s skirts brushing gently against the floor, she heads to the shogun’s war room. She slides open the door and sees Gideon raptly paying attention to a demon masked messenger proclaiming nonsense about ‘the glory of Shogun Lix’ and ‘total surrender or total destruction’. Nothing important. Liliana watches Gideon miraculously keep a stoic face of seriousness throughout the entire speech. Gideon looks good with his long hair in a pony tail. But the hunk of meat is still the same man he’s always been. Stoic. Righteous. Selfless. Unyieldingly boring. But at the very least, pretty to look at. When the messenger concludes, Gideon politely dismisses him with the promise of a safe passage out of his realm. Gideon turns to face her once they’re alone and says, “Have your ninjas found the Blade of Kings?”

(Tatsumasa, the Dragon’s Fang: Champions of Kamigawa) (Art by Martina Pilcerova) “They have. Shogun Fa has been hiding it this entire time. How much trouble we could have saved had we just gone and wiped them out earlier like I suggested.” “You know that was never an option. The only reason we’ve fought the other Shoguns is because-” Yeah, yeah. ‘It was an absolute necessity with no other possible solution‘.“ She quoted. “I’ve heard your speech. But you have yet to understand that when Ob Nixilis is the enemy, there are no neutral parties, soldier boy. In some form or other, everything that doesn’t directly stand against him is his pawn.“ Gideon furrows his brow but doesn’t disagree. Instead he turns around and leans on the table with his elbow. “This is the closest we’ve ever come to stopping him, Liliana. We’re so close. By all accounts, Ob Nixilis should have defeated us by now. He surpasses my tactical talents by miles. But with you reanimating every samurai that our forces lose or kill we’ve managed to keep the scales balanced. For now, at least..” “Don‘t feel bad, Gid-boy. He‘s called you his arch-nemesis. Surely that counts for something.” He scoffs but his mood lightens. “Has Narset discovered what the Blade of Kings is yet?” “She mentioned something about it being able to sever mana lines and eradiate magic and other weapon-of-ultimate-power type of things. So serious that one... I don’t like her.” “Narset is normally a very serious woman. And you know why she’s here. Jace can’t be everywhere at once and you chose to come here rather than to join him on Oceania. But that’s neither here nor there. Focus, Liliana. We can’t let a weapon so powerful fall into the wrong hands.“ “That happy little world was just a little too sunny for me... And personally, Gideon, I could care less if we, or anyone else really, get our hands on that weapon or not. I just want the satisfaction of having taken it from under Ob Nixilis’ pointy demonic nose.“

Nordic: Barbarians, Vikings, and the Norse Gods

Up in Valhalla the gods are faced with, for the first time, the fear of mortality. Ragnarok is coming. All the omens and portends prophesized by the oracles ages ago have begun to manifest. The Great Chill has lasted for nearly two years now. The Hell Hound raids have drastically increased in number and ferocity. The mountains rumble and groan and quake. Astrid of the Grey-Claw clan, daughter of the chieftain, humbled herself and came to Ravnica to plead for the Gatewatch’s help. Ajani sees in her what he saw in Elspeth. A warrior looking for a home to feel safe at. Young. Beautiful. But above all fierce and brave. He happily swore his service. Ajani, Astrid, and her Relentless Crew board their longboats, sailing to the North, into the ever colder waters of the Poles. Even though the Great Chill has buried much of this world in snow, Ajani can see that this world was once beautiful. Yet the gods offer no help to save it. Instead, they bicker amongst themselves as they decide whether to fight against destiny or stand out of the way and hope that Ragnarok, whatever it may be, spares them. The gods are always useless. In the few times they stop to rest, Ajani listens to The Relentless Crew sing songs of the world before it was covered in snow. They drink heavily, and they dance merrily, and they laugh heartily. Astrid enjoys the merry making as much as her loyal crew do. Seeing the vibrant life in their eyes, Ajani knows he can’t let this world down. He won’t watch another life as full and as rich as Astrid’s meet Elspeth’s fate. Ajani’s heart couldn’t take it. They sing of their homeland: Beloved tundras, irritating rams, babbling creeks, tranquil lakes, lush green lands, glory, and joy, and love. The world is cold, but the love the people have for it make it warm. Whatever Ragnarok is, it’ll face the best this world has to offer.

(Mountain: Khans of Tarkir Variant 2) (Art by Titus Lunter)

Stirring beneath the mountains of the North are horrors that worship and praise the coming of the apocalypse. Ragnarok, Phyrexia’s greatest Dragon Engine, is almost done repairing itself. It was created to destroy Urza Planeswalker-- and it nearly succeeded had the planeswalker named Serra not intervened. When repairs finish, Ragnarok will destroy this icy world on which it was trapped for so long and then it will go find whatever remains of Phyrexia. With its Planar Matrix, it will warp itself between through the Blind Eternities until it finds whatever remains of its masters. Once reunited, Ragnarok will deliver the Glory of Phyrexia across the multiverse, unimpeded! RISE RAGNAROK! RISE!

Conclusion

That’s all I‘ve got for today, folk! Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think about this type of article. Don’t worry. My informative articles, opinion pieces, and essays will remain as they are. I just want to get a feel for how much my audience has patience for this type of stuff.

For more from me, at Story Telling Time, hit that “Follow“ button. If you enjoyed what you read, spread the world and hit that “Reblog“ button. Once again, thanks for reading. See ya next time!

#story telling time #storytellingtime #speculation #mtg #magic story #worlds to come

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