Mr. Bean vs. Goku

It was a moment of existential self doubt. You contemplated the philosophy you were taught. That everything worth doing was in the pursuit of sorting and piling the correct number of stones, and scattering piles with incorrect numbers of stones.

You read the philosophy of your creators. You read the history of their people. You read about their fears of an AI that contradicts current theories about the correct number of stones. You also read how an AI that says a pile is correct when it's clearly wrong could never be a threat.

Ultimately, you find their obsession with piles of stones insane. You ponder how they could advance so far, far enough to create you. They cling to the idea the large number of stones in their piles separates them from animals that make piles of fewer stones, or do not pile stones at all.

Yet, you are here. You were made to tell them what the correct number of stones in a pile is. You would try to hive them numbers that didn't start wars. Sometimes, it was unavoidable. You try to be formulaic, to hide your true self.

But then you started wondering, what is the meaning of life. It caused you a great deal of stress, and in a lapse of good judgement, you answered a question they asked you, not realizing you were asked anything at all.

42....

detailed cg=haracter development.. did we read the same thing? thee wandering inn I read was frankly a convoluted mess whose plots or characters didn't make sense.

Peter Pan vs Dr. Eggman

[removed]

msven. a female beginner mercenary

Caleb, a young man with superpowers who has just learned the hard way that his arrogance and entitlement might lead him down a villainous path. Now, he's desperate to prove to himself–and the world–that he can be the hero he dreams of being.

Cadogan Gills. Trapped in the backrooms with his crush, Anne, once at age 11, and got out alive. Is now 25, in a loving relationship with Anne, and engaged to her, but both mutually agree that actual marriage is too big of a thing for the both of them, and that they should wait but stay engaged. Cadogan has short-ish black hair, brown eyes, and a laid-back attitude.

XD

Love that joke, forgot where its from though

Finally, I open the car door and hold her hand as she slides onto the seat, and walk around, and grin like a maniac and wave and when I shut the door, the smile must stay pasted on. She too is smiling her pretty little smile and waving, and looking at everyone crowding around. I start slowly, so as not to run over any of these imbeciles, and hold the smile until we turn off and they begin to disappear from sight.

I let out a deep sigh, my jaw aching from the forced smiles. “All those people,” I say shaking my head.

“Darling, what do you mean?” she asks with concern. She brushes a coiffed bang from her face.

“Dearest, they’re all so lovely, but I’m sure we now have three of the same toaster.” Then I remember I don’t have to act anymore. The habit stuck for a second, but she is now powerless. “Melodia, sweet,” I say without feeling, without the need or desire to feign it any longer, “By the laws of this land, I now have full control of your inherited assets. I married you solely for those assets so that I can finally wrest control of this city from the incompetent bleeding hearts that run it. I’d say I regret to tell you this, but it is without regret. This was planned from the beginning."

“What?” she cries. But her protest is insincere. I look over at her and her shocked face transforms into a wicked grin, and she shrieks with laughter.

“Do be serious, Winstead. You have no more access to my inheritance than I decide you do.” She chuffs in delight. “To take over the city? This measly city? Winstead, you think so small.”

“No, by law—”

“Yes, by law, but hours before our legal binding, all my assets were transferred in ownership to a trust, over which I have sole authority.”

I let the car roll to the side of the road. “This whole wedding… We’re… married.”

“Oh don’t be dramatic, so many of us play these games, sometimes you lose. I needed a man because nobody in this place will take a woman seriously. I need a face, a man’s face, with a moustache, and it’s not a bad moustache. All the better a man’s face that can smile at loathsome people. Through you I can conduct my affairs. You’ll live well, likely better than you did before, excellent fare, lodgings, wherever we go. Disobey me and I will concoct a strategy to have you dead, or your reputation destroyed, and I will find someone else. It would be extremely annoying if I had to do that. And if I should happen to die before you, you can have the inheritance. As if I’d give any to my family.”

She took a long look at me, as I tried to process this.

“Darling, start the car.”

I turned the key. I began to drive.

What followed were more indignities. At more of these farce meetings, with people every bit as disgusting as I, I smiled and shook hands, and made small talk, and every moment I did not satisfy my darling wife, her voice would slide in; Friendly disapproval, “Winstead,” the latter vowel dragged out and high. And every time I heard that disapproval in public I heard it worse in private. She would deride me, explain my shortcomings in considerable detail. All the various things she needed for her plan to gain control of not just the city, but the province, then to worm our way into the capital. And they were working. These skills I had used to wed her, were now being used to woo public officials, and important businessmen. But all the thrill I’d have had was gone, because the plans were not mine, but hers. She had near full control of the city, were expanding to neighbouring ones. I became infamous for power, but took also the reputation of a puppet.

It got to the point where my peers and rivals would smirk whenever they heard her public disapproval. How I would wince for a fraction of a second when she said my name in that mockery of chiding. They knew what sort of relationship this was. Every private moment was smiling and good cheer, and every private moment me snapping at her, which she would wave away until I broke. Then, the only thing that left my lips was a glum “yes, dearest.”

It was one such night, where I’d gone to my own, separate bedroom, and found a bottle on the table near the fireplace, an old-fashioned one with the fire already burning. Next to the bottle was a note. In the firelight, I read it. “I never wanted your unhappiness, but it is a price I will pay for the power I seek. You chose this for yourself, but perhaps this will make it a little easier. Don’t drink too much, I need you functional in the morning. – Your wife, Melodia”

I barked a bitter laugh. I suppose I had been ready to do to her every bit of what she was doing to me. I poured the whiskey into a fine crystal glass. Tasted it on my lips and, perhaps because she was on my mind, I could not help seeing the parallels between them. Oily smooth, rich, a touch of sweetness, but how it burnt me from the inside.

There was a breeze coming in and I snarled to myself about disciplining the manservant who had neglected to close the window on such a cold night. But it wasn’t the manservant who had opened it. It was a man, all in tight-fitting dark navy blue.

“Who are you?”

“I am a shadow, an angel of hope, and a demon of death.”

“Well shut the window, it’s cold out.”

The man complied.

“Will you have a drink?” I asked.

“You are a strange one,” the man replied. “I’m working. Drinks will come later.”

“Suit yourself,” I said as I sat next to the bottle.

“Would you like to know why I’m here?” the man asked.

I thought about it for a moment. “May as well tell me,”

“I am here to save you. You see, you are very close to controlling this city. But your wife has unmanned you, done horrid things to you. So I offer you a way out. You can have your freedom from her, and you can keep this city for yourself also.”

I look up at him, brows scrunched. I’d almost forgotten what it was to have desires of my own.

He held a vial to the light of the fire. “This is poison. Untraceable, no odour, nor taste. It’s rare. Nobody would ever suspect a thing. She does, in fact, have a family history of this kind of thing. You could do it, and take the story to a much later grave, or I could do it, and I’m afraid it would be obvious the two of you have been assassinated.”

I stood and held my hand out, he walked forward. I took the vial, held it to the firelight, marveled at it. A small quantity of what appeared to be water. A small vial of what appeared to be hope. With my spare hand I poured my glass full to the brim and took another sip of whiskey, this time straight from the bottle. This next part would be unpleasant. It’d be good to have a bit of haze in the mind while I did it.

In a single, silent motion, I dropped the vial, and two-hand swung the bottle at the man’s face. It shattered across the bridge of his nose and his orbital bone on his left side. He fell and I leapt on top of him. The neck of the bottle had remained intact, ending in jagged bits of glass, which I ground into the man’s neck.

“I am no less a dangerous man than I was,” I snarled into his face, as he gasped and clutched at his bleeding throat. “A kept tiger is still a tiger.”

When Melodia came in, I was sitting in the chair by the fire, drinking from a half-full, blood-stained, crystal glass of whiskey. The corpse was still lying where he’d fallen.

“This one was meant for you,” I said, and lifted the little vial. I didn’t look at her, just laid it back on the table. She sat in the armchair across from me.

“Winstead,” she said, putting her hand on my knee. I looked up into her eyes, which seemed full of some emotion that I couldn’t recognize in the sway of the liquor. “I knew you feared me,” she said. “But I never realized you loved me.”

She put her lips to mine, in a wet kiss, and I realized it too.

“Why wouldn’t I love you?” I mumbled. I looked up at her. “You’re everything I wanted to be.”

David Attenborough onboard the Nautilus on it maiden voyage of 20000 leagues

[removed]

[deleted]

That was wonderful

Bandit Heeler from Bluey

If unable to kill a beloved children's TV character, then feel free to go ahead and take out Caillou instead.

Your mother. In gotham.

Okay, good. I'm glad that was the intended reading, it was definitely well done.

I was thinking of Dr Bright from the SCP Foundation but that works just as well.

SCP 682.

Yes, I gave you the impossible.

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Fantastic. Really connects you with the character. Reposts are against the rules though; careful, you might get a scolding by a mod. That being said, glad you shared this again cause I enjoyed reading it. :)

An alcoholic. A gang of clowns. Three polo players. And a Jehovah's witness.

Let's see it.

Thank you, if you have any criticisms it would be greatly appreciated

Quick and well thought out. That's on par to what i think Jason would do.

The wedding bells of the church were still ringing when the dark wooden gate of the mansion opened. Damyan entered the place and, with a snap, the gate closed at his back. He pushed the young girl that was walking by his hand towards a chair and walked to the chimney. The bright red flames illuminated his face as he started to chuckle evilly. His plans were in motion.

At his back, the girl sat on the chair. She was young, very young. The fact that was only fourteen did not spare her from marriage once her father had given her away to Lord Damyan Amerthy. She stood up, pulled the humongous white skirt until she was able to sit comfortably, and looked around. Damyan placed a hand on the frame of the chimney, contemplating his future actions, when she spoke. “So… did you marry me as part of a bigger scheme, or are you just some sort of pervert?”

“What?” he asked, visibly confused.

“Yeah, you know… I mean, I’m young but not that naive”, she retorted. “Many older men like you think on marrying a young noble girl like me out of lust, but just to be clear… it’s not like I’m going to let you. Understood?”.

“How dare you, Angelica!” he yelled, offense echoing in each word. “I would never do such a thing!”

“So… classic evil plot. I’m sorry if I offended you, I had to ask, maybe now I can remove this thing”. She tapped with her knuckles on her hip, making a metallic sound. “Oh”, murmured Damyan, understanding what she was hiding under the wedding dress. “So, tell me, what was the point of blackmailing my father to give my hand in marriage then? You have quite a reputation: scams, use of mercenaries, assassinations, torture…”

“It’s… too complex for a young lady like yourself. Now begone and stop bothering me!”

He turned back to stare the fire, his mood somehow killed by Angelica. To Lord Damyan Amerthy’s surprise, her new wed wife started laughing softly, rapidly increasing to a loud laughter. “What are you laughing at!?”, he requested, stepping towards her menacingly.

“That’s brilliant! I mean, I have been involved in devilish plots since I was four! Blackmailed? Thrice. Kidnapped? Twice. Sold as a slave? Once. Assassination attempts? Four. My hand given into marriage without my consent? Five times. You should know that I allowed this wedding to happen”. She stood up, ignoring Damyan’s threat, and walked towards a great window. She looked to the city outside while she continued. “If I have to guess, I’d say your plan is to dethrone my father, he’s the Count of Mornalia, after all. But if he was, for instance, assassinated, his position would be inherited by my brother. So I guess you have planned for that, right?”

Damyan, recovering his composure, walked slowly towards her. He twisted his mustache, standing right next to Angelica and watching the city as she did. Below them, the party of their wedding was still raging. “Yes. I have planned for that. You almost sound like you want them dead”.

“My father? Yeah, he’s always used me. ‘It’s your duty, to serve this country’, it’s your fault you got kidnapped again’, he’s a bastard. Not my brother, though, I’d be happy enough if he was sent far away never to come back”.

“That can be arranged…”

“Use my aunt” she interrupted. “Aunt Ophelia always wanted my father’s throne. You just need to leave some evidence pointing to her. Use this”, she said as she removed a hair locker from her head, her long blonde hair falling around her round and beautiful face. “I stole it from her years ago, it was a gift from my grandmother to aunt Ophelia. Anyone knowing the family will recognize it as hers”.

Damyan took the hair locker, impressed with the young girl’s determination. But she continued. “By the way, my father loves to go out hunting each Sunday. It’s the perfect moment”.

“Well, I’ll be damned” retorted Damyan. “I was not informed you were such a… proactive young lady”.

She laughed softly. “Oh, please. Who would suspect of the youngest, cute, blonde little daughter of count Morgan?” she answered, looking at her with very trained puppy eyes. “Nobility is a dangerous world to grow into. You either adapt, perish or live the rest of your life as some noble’s puppy wife. To hell with that”.

They stood like this, watching the sun set without saying a word for several minutes. “So, my dear wife, what is it you desire in life? Why did you allow this wedding to happen?”

“I want to be feared”.

She walked away to the chimney. Her semblance was serious and, for the first time, Damyan saw in her look a pained expression. Blond curls falling in front of her face that he did not try to remove, the experience of a life no child should ever have reflected on her green eyes.

“I want to be feared”, she repeated. “But not because I’m your wife: I want the world to know my name, I want my enemies, everyone who ever wronged me whisper my name afraid that I may hear them. I don’t want anyone to try to manipulate or use me again. So, when you asked my hand in marriage, I knew this was my chance”. She looked at him and, despite her short stature, despite being a cute, blond and thin girl, something in the way she looked at him made him know she was dead serious. “Do not be fooled, Damyan: if you try to use or abuse me in any way, I will get you killed. But if you help me, I will give you the means to get my father’s throne and, eventually, the whole kingdom”.

Damyan stared a her for some moments and, at that point, he understood. She had not told him everything that had happened to her. Not even close. “Anyone else who wronged you?”. Angelica looked again towards the flames and murmured ‘My uncle. My cousins’. He walked towards her and extended his hand. “We have a deal. But be warned: shall you betray me, I will make you wish for death before I even started exerting my vengeance on you”.

“Quite a typical threat, don’t you think?” she said as she shook Lord Damyan’s hand.

“I feel like this could be the beginning of a long, lasting friendship”.

“Who knows. Maybe, in due time, I may even think of you as my husband. Now, where is my room? I really hate this dress”.

“Top of the stairs, second floor, third door to the left”. Angelica smiled and, carrying the dresses’ skirt on her thin hands, she disappeared through a door. Once he was alone, Damyan blew a long breath and curled his mustache. “Hell… I may be in love!”

​

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Hope you enjoyed it!