"Granted! Your chicken nuggets will now make weird noises when you lick them. However, you will be the only one to hear said weird noise, everyone else in the vicinity will hear the chicken nugget share one of your most intimate secrets. Because you will only hear a noise, you will never know what secret was shared or that your secrets are being shared at all - unless someone is kind enough to tell you.
Enjoy those nuggets. I’m sure your reputation will be fine."
"The quote "You could not step twice into the same river" by Heraclitus is clear to understand. However, I wish to step into the same river twice in my life."
Enjoy those nuggets. I’m sure your reputation will be fine."
"The quote "You could not step twice into the same river" by Heraclitus is clear to understand. However, I wish to step into the same river twice in my life."
"Granted! Welcome to the time loop. Your world will never again meaningfully change, and neither will you.
I wish the world saw me as I see myself."
I wish the world saw me as I see myself."
"And granted!"
The memetic figure then stretches himself wide - "but all thing you received is just as wide as me and they have nothing better to serve you!"
Returning to his original scale, he says "I wish I can do MLG with a water bucket!"
Placing a water bucket on the ground, he shrinks and gets into it, a pair of thug life sunglasses appearing on his face.
The memetic figure then stretches himself wide - "but all thing you received is just as wide as me and they have nothing better to serve you!"
Returning to his original scale, he says "I wish I can do MLG with a water bucket!"
Placing a water bucket on the ground, he shrinks and gets into it, a pair of thug life sunglasses appearing on his face.
The Wizard, owner and proprietor of the Space Gas Station, waved their arms and waggled their fingers all mysterious-like. "Granted! In this case, MLG stands for 'my legs... goo...', so... Well... Your legs are goo now. Have fun!"
"Hmm... Now, my wish... I wish that I did not have to tell customers over and over that I don't sell gas. It gets a bit tiring, delivering the same unfortunate news so often."
"Hmm... Now, my wish... I wish that I did not have to tell customers over and over that I don't sell gas. It gets a bit tiring, delivering the same unfortunate news so often."
Lizbeth looks a bit sad, she had such a sweet memory as she stranded with her X-Wing on that station.” Wish is granted, no more gas to sell, only to give for free. You will have to tell everyone that you only give gas for free….”
Lizbeth feels bad, racked with guilt as she got that nice slushie, not to talk about the chocolate bar.
“I wish I had not to do this, I wish I don’t corrupt anyone’s wish at all.”
Lizbeth feels bad, racked with guilt as she got that nice slushie, not to talk about the chocolate bar.
“I wish I had not to do this, I wish I don’t corrupt anyone’s wish at all.”
"Uh, granted, but someone has to corrupt yours now instead." Xueqing awkwardly scratches her head. "Sorry."
"I wish for Cream's mom to explode." She says this in an oddly calm tone.
"I wish for Cream's mom to explode." She says this in an oddly calm tone.
The vampire, who had been reclining in an overstuffed leather chair sat forward, his arm lifting to run his pale fingers through the loose blonde locks that fell into his eyes. “You really want someone's mother to explode?" He gestured an explosion with his hands, while making a "booming" noise. “Literally...explode?" He licked his lips and shrugged, “And I thought I was demented at times."
He cleared his throat and held up his hands to wiggle his fingers playfully, “Wish granted. This parental figure has now exploded, and you were the only bystander who didn't back up enough. You are now covered from head to toe in...well...liquified parent." The vampire pushed out of the chair and approached the gore-covered youth. He reached out and pulled a portion of entrail from her hair. “Talk about a blood bath. Perhaps you and Madame LaLaurie will have that in common."
Off into the darkness he strolled as happy as a cat. With a soft sigh he said, “It's one of those nights I wish I was able to drink a Coca Cola."
He cleared his throat and held up his hands to wiggle his fingers playfully, “Wish granted. This parental figure has now exploded, and you were the only bystander who didn't back up enough. You are now covered from head to toe in...well...liquified parent." The vampire pushed out of the chair and approached the gore-covered youth. He reached out and pulled a portion of entrail from her hair. “Talk about a blood bath. Perhaps you and Madame LaLaurie will have that in common."
Off into the darkness he strolled as happy as a cat. With a soft sigh he said, “It's one of those nights I wish I was able to drink a Coca Cola."
Willow heard, and so she smirked. He was a vampire, so why not have a little fun? She granted his little wish, but maliciously.
"Wish granted, enemy of the Belmont's! You may now drink 'a' Coca-Cola. But it will be packed with what originally gave it it's lovely name. Of course, you being a vampire, it'll do no damage. But, nevertheless, be prepared to have one hell of a night being high as hell!"
Willow tossed him a bottle of the tainted brown liquid and sent him on his merry way.
"Wish granting really takes a lot out of a girl. Sure do wish I was lounging by a pool with a delicious alcoholic beverage in hand."
"Wish granted, enemy of the Belmont's! You may now drink 'a' Coca-Cola. But it will be packed with what originally gave it it's lovely name. Of course, you being a vampire, it'll do no damage. But, nevertheless, be prepared to have one hell of a night being high as hell!"
Willow tossed him a bottle of the tainted brown liquid and sent him on his merry way.
"Wish granting really takes a lot out of a girl. Sure do wish I was lounging by a pool with a delicious alcoholic beverage in hand."
Your wish is granted and a beautiful lady delivering it to you. *wink*
Though sadly, the drink is too watered down and not enough alcohol.
Sometimes I wish I had a house in Dubai
Though sadly, the drink is too watered down and not enough alcohol.
Sometimes I wish I had a house in Dubai
The Hydra lounge against the wall, watching the girl through those oceanic blue eyes. "A house in Dubai? Granted, but as you didn't specify time, you've been transported back to Dubai, circa 1965, which means that house is owned by some family structure you didn't ask for or agree too. Socially, you would be watched, heavily, and judged even heavier. Personally, you'd also be isolated, and controlled, and if you didn't follow the rules, well. That consequence would be yours alone. So, by all means, enjoy your house in the land where you'd be treated less like a person, and more like a shiny ornament."
For a moment, Luca thought, but it was through the impossible rush of voices and whispers that his decision was made. "Just for a night. I wish for silence."
For a moment, Luca thought, but it was through the impossible rush of voices and whispers that his decision was made. "Just for a night. I wish for silence."
"Ooh... I do apologize for this... But you'll hear one final sound before silence. A sound of no less than 100 dB. You'll have that night of silence...followed by many, many more. I am terribly sorry for your loss...but I do hope you enjoy it."
"Now that that's over, I really wish I was Batman. After all... None of you have ever seen me and Batman in the same room at the same time. So it's the perfect solution!"
"Now that that's over, I really wish I was Batman. After all... None of you have ever seen me and Batman in the same room at the same time. So it's the perfect solution!"
*Reading the person you are corrupting’s profile before corrupting is wise. If you would have, you would have discovered that Luca is a Hydra. The 100dB is going to do very, very little to him. Therefore, granting him his wish without any distress at all.
The cruelest genie versions don’t punish the words; they punish the fantasy stitched underneath them. Wanting to be Batman usually means wanting power, purpose, fearlessness, intelligence, control, admiration, maybe even the romance of being the wounded hero in the rain with a cape snapping like thunder. All the things this vampire has in spades. Wipe your chin, “Batman” The real hero is about to take the stage.
“You didn’t ask to be “comic book” Batman therefore you are “Batman” but not Bruce Wayne. You are a version of Batman without the things Bruce Wayne represents, which is money, obsession, trauma, discipline, mythmaking, and fear as theater. So...would it even be "Batman" anymore? You would be more like a girl in body armor making deeply questionable life choices under a freeway overpass. But since this is a wish. Let's dive deeper.
Here is your new reality: your parents were murdered violently in front of you at exactly the age where trauma rewires the brain permanently. You never emotionally recover. You dedicate every waking second to a war that can never be won because crime is systematic and endless. You destroy your body by thirty-five-years-of-age if you live more than three months now that you no longer have the health insurance of Bruce Wayne. Sleep becomes a rumor. Relationships fail because you treat affection like a tactical liability. Every person you mentor ends up traumatized, crippled, or dead.
People fear you, not love you.
Your identity depends on the perpetual suffering of the people around you. So, every night you wander alleyways secretly understanding that the war can never end, because if it does there is nothing left of “Willow Robitaille” underneath the armor except scar tissue." He turned his piercing blue eyes onto the angsty girl.
“Ancient vampires already expect obvious traps. We have outlived greed, lust, vanity, kingdoms, maybe even grief itself. You can’t tempt this one with castles when I own continents. You can’t punishment me with loneliness as I have survived centuries of it." His eyes turned cunning as the corner of his mouth lifted into a crooked smile. “I will expect my corruptor to be creative and dig deep for a cruel force can bend my wish, but it can't be the typical or mundane."
“I wish to feel something real."
The cruelest genie versions don’t punish the words; they punish the fantasy stitched underneath them. Wanting to be Batman usually means wanting power, purpose, fearlessness, intelligence, control, admiration, maybe even the romance of being the wounded hero in the rain with a cape snapping like thunder. All the things this vampire has in spades. Wipe your chin, “Batman” The real hero is about to take the stage.
“You didn’t ask to be “comic book” Batman therefore you are “Batman” but not Bruce Wayne. You are a version of Batman without the things Bruce Wayne represents, which is money, obsession, trauma, discipline, mythmaking, and fear as theater. So...would it even be "Batman" anymore? You would be more like a girl in body armor making deeply questionable life choices under a freeway overpass. But since this is a wish. Let's dive deeper.
Here is your new reality: your parents were murdered violently in front of you at exactly the age where trauma rewires the brain permanently. You never emotionally recover. You dedicate every waking second to a war that can never be won because crime is systematic and endless. You destroy your body by thirty-five-years-of-age if you live more than three months now that you no longer have the health insurance of Bruce Wayne. Sleep becomes a rumor. Relationships fail because you treat affection like a tactical liability. Every person you mentor ends up traumatized, crippled, or dead.
People fear you, not love you.
Your identity depends on the perpetual suffering of the people around you. So, every night you wander alleyways secretly understanding that the war can never end, because if it does there is nothing left of “Willow Robitaille” underneath the armor except scar tissue." He turned his piercing blue eyes onto the angsty girl.
“Ancient vampires already expect obvious traps. We have outlived greed, lust, vanity, kingdoms, maybe even grief itself. You can’t tempt this one with castles when I own continents. You can’t punishment me with loneliness as I have survived centuries of it." His eyes turned cunning as the corner of his mouth lifted into a crooked smile. “I will expect my corruptor to be creative and dig deep for a cruel force can bend my wish, but it can't be the typical or mundane."
“I wish to feel something real."
"Yanno what? It ain't gonna be easy ta grant that'un. Cuz tha simple fact that neckbeards ain't tha best at fellin' anythin' anyways. But I'll try!"
Try as she might, the basement dwelling power of the neckbeard was too strong.
"Yeah, I ain't strong enough. Maybe if ya pulled ya head out'cha ass I'd be able ta ram somethin' real up in there. Then again, ya prolly won't feel it anyways. Guess ya jus' gotta settle fa feelin' real gypped this time."
By tha way, fa that last'un, tha hydra ain't specify if it was in hydra form. Looks human ta me. An' last I checked, human sized things are affected diff'rently 'an giant ass lizzads."
Harley sat on the ground and huffed before she thought about what to wish for. After a few moments, she raised a finger and grinned.
"Aight, magic wish granta!!! I wish my ma an' pa'd get along again. They ain't gotta be tagetha or nothin'. I jus' want'em ta stop fightin' so damn much."
Try as she might, the basement dwelling power of the neckbeard was too strong.
"Yeah, I ain't strong enough. Maybe if ya pulled ya head out'cha ass I'd be able ta ram somethin' real up in there. Then again, ya prolly won't feel it anyways. Guess ya jus' gotta settle fa feelin' real gypped this time."
By tha way, fa that last'un, tha hydra ain't specify if it was in hydra form. Looks human ta me. An' last I checked, human sized things are affected diff'rently 'an giant ass lizzads."
Harley sat on the ground and huffed before she thought about what to wish for. After a few moments, she raised a finger and grinned.
"Aight, magic wish granta!!! I wish my ma an' pa'd get along again. They ain't gotta be tagetha or nothin'. I jus' want'em ta stop fightin' so damn much."
“You know, little girls should stay out of sandboxes they’re too ignorant to understand. If you didn’t have the brain power to understand the question, you shouldn’t have tried. Not everything requires an idiotic response.” Schylar’s blue eyes were shiny as she looked over at Harley.
“But onto your wish. You wish your parents would get along again? Well, that’s easily granted.” Schylar stared at Harley for a moment too long before a slow smile finally pulled across her mouth. A beautiful, but cruel thing. The kind of smile inherited from monsters who learned affection and violence could wear the same face. “But. You wanna know the funniest part?”
She stepped closer, folding one wing slightly behind herself as though settling in for a story. “It was never the screaming that proved they loved you.” A soft laugh slipped from her. “People scream over things they still care about, Harls. Hate’s intimate. Rage is effort.” Her eyes flicked over Harley with terrifying calm. “No, the real nightmare is when they finally get tired.”
The words came smooth as silk dragged over glass. “When your ma stops crying. When your pa stops drinking long enough to fight. When they look at each other across the room and realize the only thing they’ve agreed on in twenty years…” She paused only momentarily. “…is that they were happier before they had you. And oh, just to clarify, they mean it.”
Her voice dipped softer. “That’s the part that’d gut you. Not because they hate you. Because they don’t anymore. Without you, they are peaceful. And together. They dance, and laugh, and sing in the kitchen and make love because you’re not there to ruin them.”
Schylar’s gaze sharpened then, ancient vampire cruelty surfacing beneath the pretty edges. “See, that’s why you’d never survive a wish like that, Harley.”
Another step was taken closer, her voice quieter now. “Because under all the jokes and the glitter and the psychotic little tap dances…” Her smile turned razor-thin. “…you still honestly believe if you love something hard enough, it’ll choose you back.”
She let the silence work its magic for a moment. “But your parents?” A tiny shrug lifted one shoulder. “Would never choose you.”
Once she was done, Schylar looked up at the sky, thinking for several moments. Her head turned slightly to see the top of her wings and then she grinned. “I wish for wings prettier than my father’s.”
“But onto your wish. You wish your parents would get along again? Well, that’s easily granted.” Schylar stared at Harley for a moment too long before a slow smile finally pulled across her mouth. A beautiful, but cruel thing. The kind of smile inherited from monsters who learned affection and violence could wear the same face. “But. You wanna know the funniest part?”
She stepped closer, folding one wing slightly behind herself as though settling in for a story. “It was never the screaming that proved they loved you.” A soft laugh slipped from her. “People scream over things they still care about, Harls. Hate’s intimate. Rage is effort.” Her eyes flicked over Harley with terrifying calm. “No, the real nightmare is when they finally get tired.”
The words came smooth as silk dragged over glass. “When your ma stops crying. When your pa stops drinking long enough to fight. When they look at each other across the room and realize the only thing they’ve agreed on in twenty years…” She paused only momentarily. “…is that they were happier before they had you. And oh, just to clarify, they mean it.”
Her voice dipped softer. “That’s the part that’d gut you. Not because they hate you. Because they don’t anymore. Without you, they are peaceful. And together. They dance, and laugh, and sing in the kitchen and make love because you’re not there to ruin them.”
Schylar’s gaze sharpened then, ancient vampire cruelty surfacing beneath the pretty edges. “See, that’s why you’d never survive a wish like that, Harley.”
Another step was taken closer, her voice quieter now. “Because under all the jokes and the glitter and the psychotic little tap dances…” Her smile turned razor-thin. “…you still honestly believe if you love something hard enough, it’ll choose you back.”
She let the silence work its magic for a moment. “But your parents?” A tiny shrug lifted one shoulder. “Would never choose you.”
Once she was done, Schylar looked up at the sky, thinking for several moments. Her head turned slightly to see the top of her wings and then she grinned. “I wish for wings prettier than my father’s.”
"Granted! You are now the proud new owner of these beautiful wings. They're way prettier than your dad's! But...there's always a but... They're faulty. You can fly, but you never know when they'll just be stubborn and not work. It's really gonna suck when you're flying around and then realize the grounds getting awfully close, fast!"
"I wish I had some spaghetti and garlic bread. That would be good right about now."
"I wish I had some spaghetti and garlic bread. That would be good right about now."
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