/u/jpeezey's posts
[WP] You run a salon that caters to inhuman patrons, secretly of course. Recently the work load has starting getting too heavy for you to manage by yourself. Your new hire is on their way in, and you are contemplating how to introduce them to your eccentric customer base.
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[WP] You see the wall of snow approaching in the distance, a severe blizzard. Frantically you go to work reinforcing your dwelling, boarding up the windows, packing sandbags against the entryways. Then you set up the traps and load your weapons; you're not afraid of the snow, but what comes with it.
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[WP] The city has fallen. The castle is overrun. You were a kitchen servant, and you are holed up in the throne room with some other servants, a few surviving guards and the royal family. The zombie hordes just keep coming. This isn't necromancy or any kind of magic. It's just the zombie apocalypse.
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[WP] While in a public place you hear someone humming a lullaby, one you've heard in your dreams for years. As you try to find the source, your eyelids start to feel heavy, and you succumb to sleep. When you wake up, you're the only survivor of some kind of disaster that killed everyone in the area.
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[WP] You've been branded a witch, a practitioner of forbidden black magic by your paranoid neighbors. In the name of God and justice, you are to be burned at the stake for your wickedness. The charges are false, of course; you're not a witch. You're something much worse, and the fire won't hurt you.
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[WP] Storebought fireworks are weak. You purchased some "reality bending" fireworks from a sketchy fellow, got super drunk, and started setting them off. The first one you launched was the most spectacular, otherworldly, thing you've ever seen. The second one, you accidentally put in upside down.
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[WP] Humanity started colonizing Petrolia for the sole purpose that the planet’s oceans were made of almost pure oil. Great harvesting platforms were built to extract the resource, but something greater is stirring in the depths of the black ocean.
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[WP] Your wings have turned black. As a Guardian Angel, you only did what you thought was right, but apparently, your boss disagrees. Black wings mark you as being unwelcome back in heaven, though somehow you can still wield your divine power... It's time to take things into your own hands.
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[WP] "Unfortunately, you perished in an accident, but your memories and personality were salvaged and have been passed along to your clone. There's just one problem... a logistical error we made when engineering the clone. Here-" The doctor holds up a mirror for you. You don't recognize your face.
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