Reblog To Make Him Lose Another 200 Billion, Like To Make Him Lose 1 Billion

Reblog to make him lose another 200 billion, like to make him lose 1 billion

Writing Update 5/22/2025

I am continuing to work on Every Hero Needs a Villain and I am super happy to announce that I'm actually making great progress when it comes to both hero and villain descriptions. Each category has six, with each hero having a villain and vice versa. I hope I've gotten a good spattering of personalities for people to enjoy this way.

Here's a snippet from Straight Shooter's, a cowboy object head:

He can inspire a state of restfulness depending on the color of his scarf. Red is for physical restfulness, purple is mental restfulness, blue is emotional restfulness, green is spiritual restfulness, yellow is instinct restfulness, and sometimes he has a rare rainbow of all these colors. Yet, to do so, he too must also achieve this restfulness for himself.

Tag list: @aweirdshipp, @floofyboi57, @aralithmenathere

Chapter 1 - Jesse survived

For most of her childhood, Jesse lived in what could be called a shed. The inside was cramped, barely enough for her mother and herself to move around. Drafts always managed to seep through the cracks in the walls or the gaps around the windows by the moment. A narrow bed was pushed against the wall opposite the wood burning stove, just big enough for the two of them to sleep in together. Despite all this, Jesse’s mother made sure her daughter knew she was doing her best to add as much comfort as possible to their living conditions, there were a few hand-me-downs and scraps of fabric adding some semblance of privacy and color which the two of them appreciated.

The outside was a mess of unkempt grass, some discarded tech, and a broken down truck. Nothing to write home about but it was their land, and she knew every inch. Mom would tell her stories of the past when they could afford this small patch of peace, the freedom it instilled in them before corporations swarmed the suburbs with towering, sterile buildings. This was a place of calm resilience for Jesse, though she never fully realized the weight of the situation until much later.

One day, the inevitable came barreling down on them–the land had been bought up by some nameless megacorporation. They woke from a deep slumber to a blaring horn from the bulldozer, a solemn reminder of the destruction to come. They scrambled to flee the building in time, leaving behind everything that wasn’t already on their backs and feeling distraught as they watched the home they had lived in for years get demolished in front of them.

Her mother fought hard to keep the land, but a corporation stole it. She was old enough by then to know the look of despair on her mother’s features. The last bit of freedom and dignity they had clung to for the last seven years of her life had been torn from them–leaving them both metaphorically and literally naked as she stared at the broken rubble of what she had called home.

She despised watching the apartments build up on the plot of land where she had spoken her first words, taken her first steps–but what is someone like her able to do against that level of authority? Everything she had known since birth was destroyed in a matter of moments by the cruel, unflinching megacorporation that her mother had warned her so much about since as early as she could remember.

She knew she couldn’t do anything about it–not yet at least–but she made a silent vow to herself in that moment. She would make them pay for taking her dignity, and she would personally carve out her own freedom from the very foundations of every single corpo bastard’s cushy home.

When Jesse and her mother were first forced into the complex, she found herself lost in a crowd of people. Every wall looked the same–sterile and all too clean. Every concrete hall echoed eerily, either with silence or sounds she couldn’t bare to comprehend. Her mother worked long hours to afford the rent, leaving Jesse alone in these sterile halls for all to long for her comfort. To escape the reality of the situation she wandered the labyrinthine halls or sitting on the flights of stairs–until she met Lira at least.

Lira saw her, a girl who looked like she didn’t belong in these halls even as she was aimlessly wandering them, and felt herself drawn to this girl by an unseen force. Neither girl tried to blend in, not really. Lira’s heavy boots made loud echoing footsteps as she walked towards Jesse, who seemed to almost be in a trance as she walked–seemingly not hearing the steps coming behind her. Lira could tell this girl was hiding something, some heavy burden she couldn’t help but feel intrigued by.

Lira tapped Jesse’s shoulder and turned her around, seeing the girl’s trance snap the moment her hand touched the girl’s shoulder.

“You seem lost,” Lira said almost too matter-of-factly as she searched the girl’s deep emerald eyes for any signs of modification.

Jesse didn’t answer for a moment, but she didn’t pull away from Lira’s touch, either. She felt an instant connection, as if there were impossibly unspoken decades of conversation that had already happened between the two.

“What of it..?” Jesse managed, her voice foreign and broken in her throat.

Lira could feel the contempt brewing beneath the girl’s calm exterior and smirked at the attempt to suppress it. “I like that about you, the name’s Lira.”

Jesse locked eyes with Lira, a small smile threatening to creep up on her lips–the feeling was just as foreign as her voice felt just moments ago. She was speechless, considering her reply for a long moment.

“Thank you, Lira…I guess there’s no getting out of being your friend now huh?” Her voice initially came out as quiet as a mouse, “My name’s Jesse.”

Before Lira could answer, a loud bang rang out in the halls, seemingly coming from everywhere at once. What seemed like a scream was interrupted by another bang–two, three, four–Jesse’s face was contorted with fear and anguish as she recognized the scream. Without thinking, Jesse ran toward the source of the sound, Lira not far behind.

Jesse skidded to a halt as the hallway bent sharply, her sneakers scraping against the concrete. Her breath caught somewhere in her throat–a choked sound, halfway between a gasp and a sob. The surrounding air was thick with the sterile scent of cheap industrial cleaner, but underneath it lingered something coppery and unmistakable.

Her mother’s body was sprawled across the threshold just outside their apartment door. A crumpled form that once held tired laughter and soft lullabies. Her eyes–usually alert, darting, always worried about Jesse–were empty now. Open. Unseeing.

Blood seeped out from beneath her mother in sickening contrast to the dull grey walls. The pattern of it already began to dry into the cracks of the floor, spreading out like tendrils trying to become part of the building itself.

Jesse didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her legs were locked beneath her, the world suddenly quiet. Too quiet.

Behind her, Lira arrived, breathless, her presence a sharp contrast to the horror. She looked between the body and Jesse, reading the story in the girl’s silence. The air buzzed faintly with the distant hum of corpo drones–already gone, their protocol overlooking this. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the form of a man rounding the opposite corner, and for a fleeting moment, she saw the glint of a gun in his hand.

“Jesse…” Lira whispered, stepping forward carefully, as if she were approaching a wounded animal.

Jesse was beyond hearing. Her fingers began to twitch at her side–tap… tap… tap-tap… tap. The rhythm she didn’t realize she knew. A lullaby pattern, ancient and instinctive, a whisper of her mother in motion.

She didn’t cry.

She didn’t scream.

She just stared.

And then her knees gave out.

Lira caught her without hesitation, arms circling Jesse like they’d always belonged there. She didn’t speak. Didn’t try to fill the space with comfort or apology–only silence and warmth. Even though they’d just met, Lira understood something vital and unspoken. Jesse needed someone to witness this moment. Not fix it. Not erase it. Just be there.

And Lira stayed.

I need your opinions on what story to work on next!

Choice A: Chel's story [unnamed atm]. She's a Hunter that fights demons with holy water guns and salt filled hula-hoops while skating on inline skates and playing AC/DC on one side of the tape in her walkman, and exorcisms on the other side of the tape. Chel's lover is possessing her pet marmoset that she named after him after they saved it together, but it turns out that her lover was a nephilim who lost his physical form temporarily and he can't reform until she figures out that she needs to erase the sigils blocking him from doing so that's carved into her walls to protect her from various mythological creatures from entering her home. She later becomes an Archivist and a central hub of information for Hunters all over the country.

Choice B: [unnamed atm] The story of the school with animal familiars (basically when you hit puberty, you get the ability to speak to a specific type of animal - crows, house cats, horses, etc.) and there's this guy that can talk to house cats and his dad can talk to horses, a girl that talks to ravens, and the school is divided into prey and predators. The girl with the ravens ends up with a network of spies through the city because the ravens see everything and report back to her.

Choice C: The Blind Piano Player Girl [aka Tea and Treason] who is shipped off to her uncle's house (he's a general in the American army during the war for independence) and her father was a composer that was secretly making codes in his music and teaching them to his daughter. Everyone thought he was just a failed musician because his music sucked ass, but when you decipher it, it's plans he smuggled from the British side of the lines and only she has the key. But she's blind and everyone think's she's useless. She ends up being able to smell when people are smuggling things they aren't supposed to (like drugs in the tea to poison people in charge) and can trace it back to who touched it because they have it on their hands. Her uncle uses her to turn the tide of the war.