(perhaps not in the original spirit of the prompt, but i wanted to go somewhere unique with this)

The chief professor of toxicology sat now at his desk. His student, having recently finished proudly describing his newest poison, placed it in front of the professor. Supposedly, it was strong enough to kill a whale within seconds. This was the final exam; the quicker or more excruciating the death, the better the grade the student would receive.

The professor was a unique kind of immortal. He did die, but resurrected an hour later. His job at the institute of toxicology was rather boring, until he suggested that he be the guinea pig for all sorts of dangerous substance. Naturally, his frequent deaths hurt a lot, but it paid well, and gave his students a chance to observe the results of their toxins through dissection of the cadaver.

He raised the beaker to his lips and downed the whole thing. Tasted of... lemon? That couldn't be right... no poisons would be as sweet as this.

Two minutes passed. The professor was still not dead. It was then that the student sheepishly realized something - she had accidentally swapped around her teacup and her poisonous beaker. After retrieving the substance, she placed it in front of him.

He took a swig this time and immediately collapsed on the floor, frothing at the mouth. An A+ for sure.

First I was waiting for the mice, they closing to the end I thought it would have been an AI & that phone would have been the fourth.

Shit, that's good. Didn't think of that.

Google

:-) I think it would work better with the doom coming from having to pee and even sweat. But if it's intended to kill whales; if one creates a poison to do that, why would that person be upset about it being used?

Carrrrl, that kills whales!

So is the poison

This is fantastic.

i cant even define any of these two words

Beautiful.🥲

Busy, busy day.

Then the Kaminski Account fell through.

I was on the phone with about six people at once, multiple different conference calls, and one of my airpods was already dead.

"Yeah--yeah, yeah, I know," I said, "We couldn't--no, they dropped us because of the fees, not the serv--yep, yes, I know."

I rolled my eyes. The board didn't care. They'd picked their narrative already. God, I was tired.

I flicked on the mute button. "Pete," I said, lifting on airpod out of my ear.

My assistant Pete turned.

Pete had been a...fine? I guess? Guy when I first met him. His interests included craft beer, hiking, and enjoying the above two with his German Shepherd Rowdy. One of a kind Denverite, lemme tell ya. Then Pete went camping, and when he came back he was...

Ill.

His eyes were ragged and baggy, bloodshot, bruised. His hair was a mess, half had fallen out. His teeth were...different. Yellow. Dark yellow. His skin looked like it barely fit.

But he fielded all my calls expertly that day. Had time to run to starbucks, too. And life had never been the same.

"Pete, can you hold my three o'clock? The Board wants to have yet another phone call, not that this one is even close to finished. Errr-- bottom line-- Cancel my three o'clock for board meeting part 2?"

"Ḯ̵̤ẗ̴̩̙́̃ ̴̭͗i̵̧͉͗̃s̶̪̉ ̴̻͐d̷̫̯̆͛ó̶̦n̸̡͍̍͆e̷̕" said Pete, the irises around his eyes flashing crimson for a brief moment.

"Great, thanks."

"I̵̥͗ ̴͖̆ẅ̵̭́a̵̙͝s̶͔̾ ̶̨͠ẗ̷̹h̴̹̉i̴̠͘n̵̪͑k̵̜͋i̵͚͝ṇ̵͋g̸͖̈́ ̶̛̘o̶͈͂f̷͉͑ ̵̨̍g̷̞͆ò̷͖i̵͈̽n̴̼͐g̷̮̾ ̸̬̀ţ̷͑ō̶̜ ̸̗́S̷͓̍ț̷̅a̸̐͜r̴̠̍b̴̨͌u̶͈͋c̸̖̚k̸͎̈s̴̯͑ ̴̑͜w̸͔͘o̷̲̓u̵̩͠l̸̜̚ḏ̸͆ ̵̗͌y̵̜͒ỏ̸̬ṷ̴͝ ̷̺̎l̶̞͗i̵̱̇k̴̥͠ȅ̷̙ ̵͈͐s̵̜̿o̴̟̒m̶̻̂ě̶͍?"

"Yes," I said, then winced. I'd forgotten to mute. "Latte please," I whispered.

"Ọ̸̇Ǎ̵̗T̷̢̎ ̴̡̌M̶̥̆Ḯ̴̧L̸͇̈́K̶͈̉ ̷͉̄?" Pete croaked, and I gave him the thumbs up.

He nodded solemly and turned to leave, a crown of bones forming in the air above his head.

"Hey Pete!" Susan from Marketing said.

Pete's jaw distended a full foot, and a rush of wind escaped the twisting obsidian storm of his abyssal black maw.

Then Pete disintegrated into a cloud of flies and left the office.

Meanwhile, the board kept ragging on me and ragging on me, like all this was my fault! The Kaminski account was doomed the moment we upped their rates. We got greedy. I said this was going to happen a thousand times. I fought against it every step of the way.

But they wanted to squeeze for a bit more, and here we were.

"I tried to--" I started, but the board cut me off.

I tried not to break down. Tried not to cry in front of Susan from Marketing. I was just so frustrated. So unhappy. Is this life? Is this why I exist? Trillions of planets, trillions of years, organisms, all these insanely low chances that I even exist to experience life, and I spend it getting yelled at by the board because they had decided that "the narrative" was that I'd screwed up?

I sighed.

I was about to unmute myself when the conversation at the other end tapered off.

I heard confused noises, questioning tones. Then the first scream pierced the telephone line in harsh static. Then more screaming. Bloodcurtling screaming. The sloshing of flesh. The spilling of blood.

Then silence.

Finally, someone on the other end of the line spoke. It sounded like the chairman. Almost.

"W̸̻͑ê̷̞ ̵̫̎h̸̖̔a̶̳͋v̴̲̓e̷̳̔ ̵̙̚r̸̜̽ḙ̵̉c̶̯͝ò̵̝n̷̈́͜s̸̞̆i̵̟͐ḍ̴̎e̶͘ͅȓ̴̼e̷͈̿d̸̜̄ ̵̠͗t̶͉͗h̷̗͐e̷̤̾ ̸̛̯s̸̺͂ị̴̃t̷̨̂ų̶̽a̷̘͘t̵̛̟ḯ̸̡o̶̟̊n̸̜͑," the chairman said. "A̷̰͑n̷̲͂d̸̖͝ ̵̢̑ȧ̷̞p̵͈̽õ̷̩l̶̨̔ǒ̸̧g̸̫͊i̶̥͋z̸̻͌\̴͊͜e̶̟̒ ̶͉̈́f̵͓͊o̷̱̕r̸̯̂ ̶̢̓b̸͉͆l̸̻̆ȁ̶͚ṃ̶̂i̴̧͌n̵͑ͅg̴̪͝ ̸͙̒y̶͕͌o̷̻̿ū̴̡.̴̺̆ ̶̗͗"

There was a buzzing as Pete reformed next to me. He handed me my latte.

"Oatmilk?" I whispered.

"O̸͉͝a̷̖̅t̴̪͝m̷̫̈́i̵̳͆ĺ̷̹k̷̛̞," he confirmed.

I smiled.

He smiled back. His lip sagged down to his chin, revealing blue and yellow-crusted gums, and Pete had to manually pull it back up to the right place, but hey-- a smile is a smile.

He took a big slurp of his drink. One of the caramel drizzle things with the whip cream.

"Thank you," I whispered.

Pete just gave me a thumbs up.

​

------

/r/ethanfeld

​

Thanks for the fun prompt, /u/Black1495. I̶̖̓ ̸̪̈h̶͈͆ạ̸̕d̴͉͋ ̸͇̄a̸̻͝ ̵̙̇ļ̵̑ŏ̵̯t̸̢͗ ̶̫͌o̷͙̐f̶̞̉ ̸̫͒f̵̤͑ȕ̸̳n̶͓̍ ̷̤͋ <3

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses &#129302; >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

&#127381; New Here? &#9999; Writing Help? &#128226; News &#128172; Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

She floated into the room and bade the attendants leave. The black-cloaked figures bowed and scurried away, and the last one pulled the ornate doors shut as they left.

Warren smiled at her from the bed. She was still no more than thirty, her hair long and lush, skin supple and glowing.

“I feel like a dog,” he croaked.

She chuckled. “Now why would you say such a thing?” She asked warmly. She sat on the edge of the bed.

“I heard once that, to a dog, man is like an immortal. Watching us die is something very few dogs do.”

“Ah,” She said. “Man is an elf, and dogs are humans.”

Warren laughed, but couldn’t keep it from devolving into a coughing fit. His mother wrung out a washcloth and wiped his wrinkled face with it. “You’re no elf,” He croaked.

“I was once.”

“Once…” he considered. “Ah. I remember that story. Damn, that was a long time ago. I was still sitting on your knee.”

“Your memory is almost as good as Mímir’s.” She set the rag down and took his hand.

“What’s it like, dying?” Warren asked.

She pondered this for a moment. “Well, leading up to it sucks. The illness or injury… But the process itself is only briefly unpleasant.” She stroked his face.

“Is it painful?”

“No. But you know, you’ve met him before.”

Warren’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

“Death.” She smiled. “You’ve seen me walk with him before, when we visited the beach… and in conferences here at the palace…”

The old man nodded. “Mm. You mean Thanatos… or whatever he goes by these days.”

“Yes.”

Warren harrumphed. “Seems like a sweetheart. You always had a soft spot for Underworld gods.”

His mother laughed. “That hasn’t always worked out in my favor.”

The old man raised his eyes to her. “Mummy?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I used to ask you when I was young… will I come back as a baby when I die?”

She smiled. “I think by now you’re old enough to make that decision on your own.”

He laughed under his breath. “I see now why you’re not scared of it. He’s your friend.”

“That wasn’t always so, love. There were days when I was terrified of dying… But that wasn’t Thanatos’ fault.”

Warren paused. “You were scared of dying… but not of death?”

She nodded. “I was scared of not mattering. And for a time, I saw death as the end of all that mattered. But… every time I look at you, right up until the moment you die, I realize that I have made a difference. I have mattered.”

“So death was never really the end of that, after all,” he concluded with a soft smile.

His mother stroked his white hair with a slender, youthful hand. “I’m so proud of you, honey.” She bent and kissed his forehead one last time.

When she sat up, there was a figure behind her. A black-clad man with long, dark waves, carrying a scythe.

She turned to see the visitor, and his brown eyes crinkled into a smile as she craned to kiss his cheek.

He looked at Warren. “You ready to go, Rabbit?”

The old man barked a laugh at the old nickname and slid from the bed with ease. “You kidding, Jackal? I’ll race you to the scales!” His legs felt strong again.

“A moment,” said Death. He gestured back over his shoulder.

Warren looked back. His youthful mother sat at the bedside of a body he barely recognized. She didn’t weep; after all, this was part of her eons-long existence. But she petted his hand and turned to look at Thanatos.

“I’ll take good care of him, Hope,” said Death.

“I know you will.”

That reminds me, time to crack open that ghost/reaper hot sauce I picked up!

I'm pretty sure the word you meant is sapient, not sentient. There are around 1 million sentient species on Earth

It's theobromine, not chocolatine but yeah, also menthol and capsaicin

Lmao capsaicin normally induces so much pain it drives animals mad. It literally destroys nerve endings by injecting them with an obscene ammount of calcium. Its one of the worlds worst irritants, since it leaves aside the "actually being toxic" side of irritants to focus solely in inducing as much pain as its physically capable of.

Capsaicin is the "spicy" chemical found in chili peppers. Rotflmao.

You said fantasy army, i gave you one.

Why do orcs don't bother with Formations or disipline? because their bloodthristy monsters. and magic of course. Born already stronger and tougher then mortal men.

See the problem i have with promts like this is that while i like my leigons and tactics there is, of course, the obvious problem that magic and raw might are something that needs to be taken into account.

a small groups vs a horde of tolkien-equie orcs with magic? a slaugther

Emma stared at Carl in horror. "Carl...what the hell have you done?"

Carl lowered the beaker slowly from his mouth. He felt surprisingly calm despite realizing his fatal mistake. It must have an effect of the poison. "Eh, fuck it," he shrugged. He proceeded to gulp down even more of the yellow-green poison.

"Carl, what in the actual fuck?!" Emma shouted as she tried and failed to grab the beaker away from Carl.

"Well, I figured if I'm going to die anyway, I might as well make it as quick as possible," Carl said as he ran over to the other side of the room. "Plus, this stuff is surprising tasty and I don't want to die thirsty."

"That's not what..." Emma tugged her hair in frustration. "Carl, that poison is not intended to kill humans, it is intended to kill whales for every drop that is ingested by a human!"

Carl stared back at her in confusion. "What the hell is that supposed to --" His words were cut off by the sound of a loud banging noise that shook the whole observatory. "What the..." He and Emma made their way over to a nearby window, only to freeze in shock at the sight outside.

There were thousands of dead whales floating in the ocean, stretching all the way to the horizon, a sea of mangled corpses and blood. The loud bang they had earlier was the sound of one of the whales washing ashore and hitting against one of the observatory walls. Carl stared at the literal bloodbath in front of him and finally muttered, "...How many do you think I killed?"

"I honestly wouldn't be surprised if you killed all of them," Emma replied, sick to her stomach at the idea that an entire species was now wiped from the Earth because of her actions. "In fact, considering how many carcasses there are, I'm sure of it."

"Huh". That was all Carl said for a few moments. Then, he raised the beaker to his lips. "No harm in finishing this then."

"Carl, stop fucking drinking it!"

Capsaicin

[removed]

Ooh, blaming WWII for the Cold War. That's a new one.

I mean you're not wrong, I don't disagree, but it is a new one. And that's coming from the lady that blames the Cold War partially on the Great Schism, or more accurately on forces and fears that originated in the Great Schism's East/West conflict.

It's not city property. You need a pass to get into a neighborhood pool. City taxes aren't going to cover that.

"Also, this is a whole mug, not a single drop ;)"

That's what taxes are for