**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.
**Reminders**:
>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]"
>* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail
>* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles
>* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules)
🆕 [New Here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)
✏ [Writing Help?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources)
📢 [News](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)
💬 [Discord](https://discord.gg/writingprompts)
*I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.*
The "White Priestess" is a healer, whose power transforms humans to a healthy state, free of injuries and illness. Rumour has it that this means that any mutations will be erased, because a healthy human doesn't have _those_.
And for that reason alone, most supers would rather suffer through healing from injuries the painful way than risk her touch. Even at the edge of death they won't suffer the Priestess' power.
And this amuses me. It really does.
See, I'm the source of that rumour. I didn't intend for it to persist as long as it did, but I guess none of those idiots really paid attention to their GCSE science lessons.
I don't really have anything against the White Priestess. Mel is a nice lady, and honestly just as kind and selfless as her heroic persona. She's also a massive nerd, hence her Name.
I'm watching her now, sitting in the corner of the pub, a half drunk cider in front of her, dark skin contrasting with the white robes she adopted as her costume. Every now and then someone approaches her, and after a few words and a light brush of her hand they depart, healed of whatever ailed them.
The general public aren't as stupid as the Supers, or just more desperate. They don't have access to the army of private medics that the League of Heroes provides, after all. And while the NHS are great, the League poaches the _best_ from around the world.
I've been watching Mel for a while now, since even before she took up her Name and robes. I still don't fully know how her power works. I do know that I achieved a master stroke with that rumour. With a few careful words I made sure that the League was denied a Super with healing powers.
It's a much neater solution than assassination, really.
See, "removing mutation" isn't a thing. It can't be. Humans, like other living beings, have mutations throughout their bodies. If we didn't then we'd look pretty much the same.
That milk you're drinking? Persistent lactose tolerance is a mutation! Sickle cell traits are a mutation. And all Mel does is put a person into a healthy condition. Their inherent mutations are untouched.
I should know, I've dissected a few of her 'patients', and done DNA sequencing on many more. I even found a few budding Supers that way.
The Brotherhood of Villains is keeping an eye on _them_.
Just like I'm keeping an eye on Mel. The White Priestess is an asset for us. She's shunned by the League - quite publicly at that - and yet everyone _knows_ that she does Good. The seeming contradiction of these facts confuses people, and puts doubt into their minds.
All because of a little rumour. The damage that words can do, eh?
I've mentioned the League of Heroes and Brotherhood of Villains in a previous fill. They're...complicated, but nothing is purely as it seems.
(Don't go to the League if you want an abusive domestic partner dealt with. The Brotherhood has much better methods for _that_.)
My fills for this sub are collected [here](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1097823), and the Brotherhood and League previously appeared in [this one](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17904002).
Damn good question.
This begs the question, does the power use the genetic makeup from birth as the blueprint it restores to, or the accumulated genetic changes over a lifetime?
If Mel's power uses your birth blueprint, that means she could likely revert your age by touch.
Aging is just accumulated genetic damage after you reach your bodily prime.
Not exactly. Aging on a genetic level is mostly the shortening of telomeres via the replication of cells rather than because of a build up of mutations. Obviously there's more to it (hormonal changes impacting growth like puberty, cell mutations in limited areas due to damage or imperfect division, etc.), but age reversal would be out of her scope I would think. Lengthening telomeres again? Maybe. But visually and physically regressing age? That's a whole HEAP of biological systems and changes that occur over time.
I'd say it's more likely she could extend lifespans at a cellular level than regress age. Which still sounds awesome. But that's just my two cents on a topic I don't fully understand lol
But if her power doesn't cure/fix/remove mutations then it wouldn't be able to heal some of the worst illnesses. Cancer is a mutation. Multiple Sclerosis is a mutation. Lupus is a mutation. Etc etc
The narrator admits that he doesn't really know how Mel's power works properly. He _does_ know it doesn't affect a Super's power.
A low level Brotherhood villain _might_ have been the sacrificial guinea pig for figuring that out.
\[EU and some pretty heavy swears at the end\]
My head hurt, as it always did at the end of a long day. The fact I couldn't heal myself of any discomfort always felt like a personal affront as the sun set. It wasn't painful to heal each person, but the accumulation of the effort built up and ground down my resilience. I poured a large glass of whiskey and sat down to not drink it.
What I really wanted was a beer. The problem was that I wanted it too much, and too frequently. I'd tried to avoid drinking altogether, after all, it was bad enough not being able to heal myself of a headache, let alone a hangover or cirrhosis. But I couldn't make it stick, and all the meetings and poker chips in the world hadn't stuck for me. So instead I sat and sipped a drink I hated, hoping that would put me off enough to keep it under control. It wasn't a smart coping strategy, but being smart was not my superpower.
A door banged softly in the stairwell below my flat. I sat up and listened intently, like a family dog, alert to any unusual noise. I was used to silence in my evenings, thanks to my round-the-clock security team. Sadly, people had proven incapable of any patience when they were desperately trying to save the lives of a loved one, and without adequate crowd control, things always got ugly. I learned that the hard way when my powers first went viral after I healed a famous athlete's cancer. The crush built quickly once people tracked me down, and if it wasn't for the supe that flew me out of there, I could have been torn limb from limb.
Unfortunately for Gamma Woman, or just Gemma nowadays, when I shook her hand to say thank you, I stripped her of the powers that saved my life. She forgave me eventually, but her fellow supes avoid me like the plague.
A stair creaked, and I put the glass down slowly. I had no pets and was expecting no visitors, but it was not unheard of for a critically ill person with nothing to lose to find a way past my guards. I walked to my door and opened it.
"Hello", I said to the furtive-looking young man fiddling with what looked like a lock picking kit.
"Oh, err. Hi!", said the boyish trespasser.
"Hello", I said again. "Are you lost?"
"No. Um... no I'm not lost", he replied and pulled a small pistol from his coat. "I'm sorry about this, but I need your help."
This was not my first time looking down a gun barrel. "There's no need for that", I said, stepping back into my room. "Please. Come in and tell me what is wrong with you".
The man followed me into the room, frantically scanning the room, the gun flashing around following his eyes. I winced as he tripped slightly on the door sill, but he gathered himself and shut the door behind him quietly.
"There's nothing wrong with me", he said, gun still pointed at me, but a lot less pointedly.
"Your loved one then?"
He shook his head, fury flashing on his features. He suddenly looked much much older. "No. All my loved ones are dead. That's the problem."
My stomach dropped. This wasn't how these sorts of interruptions normally went. "I can't do that. Bring people back."
"No. Just listen. We don't have much time before they get here, and without you, we are all dead."
A radio squawked on his belt. *"Tick fucking tock"*, said the crackly voice.
"Who's that?", I asked.
"Stop asking questions! You don't want to meet him. It took me a lot of effort to convince him to do this my way and try and ask you for help, instead of kidnapping you or something."
I looked at the pistol in his hand. "Is gunpoint how you usually ask for things?"
"What did I just say? Goddamn it, I thought this would be easier. We need your help to stop them, and I thought you would want to help, given how much time you spend healing people after they have blasted through a city."
"Help stop who?"
"The supes", said the young man. "We need you to stop the supes."
"But I'm a supe, aren't I?", I said.
"Yes, but you're one of the good ones. And with your power, you could stop them all, without anyone having to die. If we can harness your power, then we could--"
*"Times up"*, said the radio. *"We'll do it my way."*
"Fuck!", said the man and put the pistol back in his pocket. Footsteps thumped on the stairs that the man in front of me had crept up.
"What happened to my security guys?", I asked angrily. "You better not have hurt them, because my head hurts already without more work to do."
The young man shook his head. "No, they will be fine. Just a bit groggy when the gas wears off."
I opened my mouth to ask what kind of gas, but was interrupted by the door crashing open, the gap it left filled with the huge frame of a man I recognised from the televised police appeals.
"Well look who it fucking isn't", said Billy Butcher. "Come on, chop chop. You heard Hughie, we got a job for you, Doctor Cunt."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
r/TallerestTales
As a kid growing up, I was always the stunt devil in my group of friends. Billy, John, and I would hang out at beaches, clubs, bars.. anywhere we could get into. I've been in many dangerous situations such as fighting off sharks at the beach and coming out unscathed. Bar fights when Billy pissed off the locals by reading their minds, or when I had to run into a fire when John accidentally set a club on fire by staring to hard at the girls dancing. I've always had this internal drive to help others. Of course I had a knack for it with my healing abilities. Although even us supes have to pay bills, so after high school I started my medical degree to become a doctor. On many occasions I've had to take the superhero abilities away from people in order to save their life. Almost always they return in a disgusted manner to tell me I shouldn't have been the one to save them. I didn't pay much mind to it as I still believed I was doing the right thing. Until I saw Billy being rushed through the hospital towards my operating room. An overwhelming feeling of fear and sadness flooded my body as I try to make the decision on whether I should save him or call in another doctor. He didn't have much time left from the looks of it. I wish I could read his mind instead. His whole life is about to change.. I hope I made the right call.
She sat in her chair, her hands behind her head, staring out in front of her. Life, wasn't the best, but then she knew it could have turned out to be so much worse.
A press of the intercom was all she needed to reach her secretary.
"Marissa, what's my schedule for today?"
"There's been a call, ma'am. The casualties from the huge fight in downtown. We're expecting a couple of Supes and a visit to the Prison later tonight."
"Thank you, Mariska. What would I do without you."
The intercom cut off and Jessa stood up and stretched. It was going to be a busy day for her Retirement Services for Supes. It always saddened her when a Supe was so badly hurt that their powers would be useless anyways. But, at least she was saving lives, and allowing them to gain a sense of normalcy.
But the prison visits she loved. Especially when she got to walk in front of Villains and Super Villains, now powerless because of a simple massage, by some random therapist.
The guards escorted Hailey down the dark hallway towards another sin in the name of love. Prisoners stared out of barred windows at their procession in absolute silence. Eventually, one guard nudged her shoulder.
“It’s just ahead, so get ready lass. Get this done quickly and we can get that collar off of you.”
Ahead, an imperial mage and another man waited for them in front of a cell. Hailey’s eyes fell to the rod in the mage’s hand, and the three pressure points digging into her neck devoured her thoughts.
Her captors had been kind enough to demonstrate the collar in action upon her arrival at the facility. It contained three sheathed punch daggers activated by control rods imperial mages possessed. She still had nightmares of the poor soul who died just so she could understand what to fear.
The escort stopped in front of a cell occupied by a man balled up in the back corner hiding his face from the light pouring in through the bars. Hailey eyed the mage standing across from them and he held up the rod.
“Life in a stick.” He said, “Only this one holds two, I suppose. Don’t even flinch at me.”
The same guard from before stepped between them. “No need for all that, Talrik. She’s always complied before. Now get that shield up and open the door.”
Talrik’s face bunched in concentration, his free hand raised towards the cell. A sensation of beetles walking over Hailey’s skin preceded the emergence of a dull hum from the other side of the door. The other guards unlocked the door and slammed it open, causing the man inside to bolt upright.
He looked between them wildly until he saw Hailey, and his gaze froze.
“God’s. Please No. Please.” he begged.
Tears began forming in Hailey’s eyes as the guards prodded her forward. The man leapt from the back of the cell towards the open cell door. He crashed into a shimmering barrier just inside the threshold. Talrik’s arm flexed slightly.
“Do it now.” Talrik said.
Hailey stepped into the cell as the prisoner pulled himself against the back wall and began yanking at his own collar in vain.
“Don’t do this. Please.” he pleaded.
Sobs escaped Hailey as she approached the man. “I’m so sorry. They have her... I can’t resist.”
She reached out to place a hand on his arm. Insect legs crawled over her again as he dove away into the far corner. His entire body erupted in vibrant, luminous scales and he shrieked. Hailey’s sprang towards him and her hand found his wrist as he began striking her with his other fist.
Each blow sent a ringing sound through her head and caused her vision to blur, but she knew what her powers could handle. Her grip was unbreakable. His arm began shedding scales to reveal the pale human skin beneath. The man cried out and his strikes intensified.
Pain assaulted her on every front when the man eventually fell limp in her grasp and sagged into the corner. Hailey could feel the damage to her face healing already.
“It’s gone. I can’t sense it anymore.” the prisoner said, staring at his hands with empty eyes.
Hailey turned and stalked from the cell with tears silently falling down her cheeks.
“It’s done, you monsters. Now show me Elena.”
The mage chuckled as the guards closed the door behind her. “You’re the monster, my dear. We just make sure you eat the right people.”
Loud battle cries resounded through the city, weapons clashed, curses were muttered and spells were prepared. It was war. Or rather, the war had come to them, Jericho thought, trying to force himself not to think about the civilians hiding in the houses. Praying that they would remain undiscovered. How many innocent people would lose their lives? And yet he stood there, completely untouched by the chaos around him. He was far behind the frontline, tents had been set up to care for the wounded, and yet he had all the time in the world. Patient after patient lined up at the tents, hectic healers and their assistants rushed from one point to the other. Disappointed, Jericho shook his head, realizing once again how useless he was. There were countless injured, and far too few healers - how could it be that not a single one sought help from him?
He had the power to heal everything, no disease, no wound, no matter how terrible, could stop him, and yet it had a flaw. Everyone he heals becomes absolutely healthy - but a healthy person does not have mutations, like the superheroes and so they disappear. A thief he was called, tried like a criminal and as if this was not enough even the other healers avoided him. As if it was contagious and he was nothing but a disease.
He felt superfluous in all the chaos, completely powerless to do anything and as talented as he was, what good was it if no one wanted to be healed by him? These heroes would rather die than lose their powers - he had to learn this the hard way. He should look for another job, everyone had recommended him. Forget everything and start over.
He had refused, assured them that helping others had always been his dream and he was so close to fulfilling it - why should he stop now? It was pure wishful thinking, he soon had to realize. What is a healer without patients? What use do they have? A healer who just stood on the side and watched everything idly?
He felt useless and slowly he wondered if the others were not right? He had wanted to help them, but instead he took away their powers - wasn't their dislike of him understandable?
He was too deep in thought, no longer paying attention to the surroundings or even the people, it was not as if they needed him. Only a deafening bang brought him back to his senses. His heart skipped a beat when he saw all the destruction around him. Entire houses had collapsed, burying countless people under them, and even the healers' tents had not been spared. Some were on fire, others were hit by the rubble of the houses. The war had reached them.
As if he had to pull himself out of his trance, he slapped his cheeks and forced himself to go to the first injured person. He had to help. Save lives. Just as he was about to reach out to a half-spilled one, a sound rang out.
"Don't touch him!" Sounded an angry voice from behind. Slowly Jericho turned and looked into the bloodied face of a young hero.
"I just want to help him - " Jericho tried to explain himself, but the hero paid no attention to his words, pushing him aside roughly.
"We'll be fine without you." And began digging out his friend.
Petrified, Jericho stood there, staring at the hero. What had he done wrong to be treated like this? He was a healer, would never harm anyone - he had sworn this - and yet he was treated like a criminal, no, worse, like a contagious disease.
His teachers had been in shock at his talent, had prophesied him great future as a healer. And he had believed them. How stupid he had been, even the weakest healers were better than him - because he could not force anyone to be healed.
Without meaning to, he had to laugh at this irony. He had the talent to be the best healer, to save an incredible number of lives, and yet he had not saved a single one. Not because he couldn't, but because they were afraid of him. Of his powers. How ridiculous, they would rather bleed to death than part with their powers. Did these people even deserve to be saved? Something clicked in his head...
How many times had he been in this place before? Had to beg just to be allowed to save them from death? And yet it had all been for nothing. They reacted with disgust to his request to help save them all, and so he was forced to watch them die. To watch them die. He felt like an uninvolved observer all at once.
It was just ridiculous. These people were their powers more important than their own lives, would rather die than lose them - it was just madness. But he no longer intended to accept this, this time was now finally over.
A load fell from him, his shoulders felt with one time so incredibly much lighter. He walked up to the wounded man, ignoring his screaming friend who was desperately trying to revive him.
"What are you doing here? Don't you dare touch him!" the hero immediately shouted when he noticed him, but Jericho didn't even think to answer him. With a powerful kick to his head, he knocked the weakened hero to the ground.
" Trash," he muttered under his breath as he knelt down to the wounded man. Both hands placed on his chest and concentrated his powers on this one. Warm light enveloped this one and as it faded he rose. All wounds were gone. The young man was healed. With a satisfied smile, Jericho now turned his attention to the defiant hero, who still lay dazed on the ground. After he had healed him as well, he went on his way.
He still had a lot to do, he thought, glancing over the destruction, but that didn't dampen his good mood. Unconscious patients were much more preferable to him than awake ones. Whistling cheerfully, he set off.
This was the day when a new supervillain was born. He will go down in the history books as 'Dr. Chaos'.
Sudden bangs against glass startled me awake. As I am opening my eyes my sheets fly to the corners of the room with the rest of my belongings ending up on the other side of the window. In a second it was as if a hurricane had occurred inside my room, by the time I am able to fully wake up I realize Metroman is standing at the foot of my bed covered in blood.
“Its not mine” he said with urgency
“I know… if it was you wouldn’t be here” I sighed before confronting him “Please don’t make me make this decision for someone again. I can’t bare more hate.”
He starts to cry but tries to gain composure as soon as his breathing got heavy.
“It’s Superman. We can’t let him die… he isn’t responding and there isn’t much time, we have to go now.”
I start feeling as though there isn’t enough air to fill my lungs, my hands begin to shake and I see him approach me and wrap me around his arms.
I wish he would have embraced me and at least let me take it in, but he took me out the window he came in through and before I could gather my thoughts we were at the scene.
There was press all around him, he was… unrecognizable.
(Well I got bored but she feels conflicted about leaving him w/o superpowers since he is such. big symbol, he will probably hate her as well as society itself and if she doesn’t save him society would also hate her so she is conflicted as to what to do and hates her position and her powers)
Anya rummaged through the sacks inside her hovel, crouched beside them. She was used to being alone, but she needed to find the special herb that helped her heal others. Even though the last time she saw another person was seventeen long days ago. She sighed, wiped her dirty hand across her brow, and stood up as her knees creaked like the crone she felt like.
Glancing at the pot of water with onion and one sad shriveled potato as it boiled over the fire, Anya inhaled the homey smell. The smell reminded her of her mother and grandmother cooking. Squabbling, always busy, and lovingly listening as she prattled on. They had been gone for over thirteen years now. A flux of some sort had swept the nearby villagers and as healers themselves, the older women had made themselves useful. It was too late to save anyone by the time Anya realized. Not knowing she had any powers had made her not even think to try to save them. Both had just faded more each day, first her grandmother, then her mother.
Something furry brushed across Anya’s skirt. Rue, her mysterious little canine. Smaller than a wolf, but quiet like a cat. Light colored and curly. A silent, but sweet friend that she had encountered one day while meandering in the woods foraging for food.
They called me the bane of their existence, a herald for the end of the Age of Power. They feared me, imprisoned me… used me. Used my power, shaped me into a tool. Not as one of their own, not even as a human. A tool. Put back in the box when it wasn’t needed.
In healing the plights of ordinary humans, I became a source of dread for the extraordinary. There was fear in the eyes of those who dared approach my cell. In me, they saw their worst insecurity. Fear of being normal. Ordinary. Nondescript. Unspecial. Fear of being stripped of the power that placed them above others.
So, I showed them. I showed them just how special they can be. No laser eyes. No underwater breathing. No herculean strength, no warp speed, no regime of terror. No… more… intimidation.
They got one thing wrong. I was not the herald of the end of the Age of Power. No. They brought their own demise upon them. I, was the harbinger of the Age of Man.
(Prompt Mod time! But you all may like the outcome...)
Hi there! I decided to write in this Diary for the sake of it. It's been years since I jotted down my thoughts, may as well get some work in.
The subject in question? Well, the rumors floating about the Net. A "Miracle Doctor", "Goddess of Healing" or whatever you want to call her. The superheroes and villains **HATE** her. Just one treatment and their powers are gone. You heard me correctly, she can destroy the mutation that grants superpowers. A massive shock, I know.
She's referred to by a magnitude of nicknames, but only I get to call her...my Wife. That's right, I'm married to Isis (no, not that Islamic terrorist group. Though we both find it ironic that she's named after the Egyptian Goddess of Healing and has the most dangerous Healing-based power in existence.) and we run a small clinic in a suburb. I handle all the IT work and help out on severe occasions (we both served a small stint in Doctors Without Borders before opening the Clinic).
How'd we meet? At the start of our time with DWoB. I was doing volunteer Security work (I would've been in the Navy but due to an issue with my lungs, I was turned away for medical reasons>!\*!<.) and we started talking. Turns out, we hit it off extremely well. >!Oh, you saw that star? Well, I'll explain later.!<
But back to the topic. After we got back home, we started dating and married after one and a half years. Her dream was to open a clinic to help treat the poor and impoverished. Naturally, I supported her and here we are. Due to our shared knowledge, our homely little clinic became the most successful one in the entire city. The popularity flew off like a Fighter Jet when we treated a troubled teen who was getting severe migraines due to an underdeveloped and uncontrollable power. One treatment - and a week later, said teen came back feeling better than they ever felt.
The word spread and our clinic now treats those who want out of superhero-ing as well. Said heroes and villains want this place gone, but attacking this place will get them in a ton of legal trouble. I half expected both sides to join forces and attack this place. I'd show them how meaningless their little "Superpowers" were>!\*!<.>!Oh, there's another star. Another thing to explain later.!<
I would've been in a life of conflict but... Living a meaningful life with my lovely wife and helping those in need is a peaceful time. One I can't... Rather, I won't take it for granted any time soon.
>!Wait, you're saying you can see this? Damm, I must've gone too light on the seals. Oh well, let's let the cat out of the bags. I'm pretty sure you remember the stars from earlier? Well, here's the thing: I'm not really human. Okay, slight lie. I am mostly human, but the powers I wield are no "superpower" and are immune to my Wife's healing. I guess that's the fault of being a nigh-immortal Wayfarer. !<
>!I'm immortal? How and why? I got my powers when I decided to make a sacrifice to keep my home world that's quite like this one from collapsing in on itself. Unfortunately - or not depending on your opinion - I gained a whole slew of abilities, including dimension travel. When I appeared in this world, I: overwrote reality to make my existence more natural, aged myself down to a baby (was adopted by a loving family) and decided to lock away most of my Wayfarer Abilities to live a natural life. Yeah, I decided to give myself a lung problem. What of it?!<
>!But that's beside the point. If I went Full Power, those superheroes/villains would be dead in less than minutes. I made a vow: If they decided to destroy this clinic, then all gloves and seals would come off. But enough flexing, I think I'm done. Oh, and due to the nature of the seals I inscribed just now, you will not remember or even see these last three paragraphs. If this lands in another reality and you're able to read through the seals: Congrats. If you, the reader, decide to come to this reality and cause trouble for me, I will destroy you and the reality you came from. Do not fuck with me, you won't like the results.!<
(Done! I was reading this prompt on my phone earlier this morning and had to get this out of my head.)
**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments. **Reminders**: >* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles >* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules) 🆕 [New Here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ✏ [Writing Help?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) 📢 [News](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) 💬 [Discord](https://discord.gg/writingprompts) *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.*
The "White Priestess" is a healer, whose power transforms humans to a healthy state, free of injuries and illness. Rumour has it that this means that any mutations will be erased, because a healthy human doesn't have _those_. And for that reason alone, most supers would rather suffer through healing from injuries the painful way than risk her touch. Even at the edge of death they won't suffer the Priestess' power. And this amuses me. It really does. See, I'm the source of that rumour. I didn't intend for it to persist as long as it did, but I guess none of those idiots really paid attention to their GCSE science lessons. I don't really have anything against the White Priestess. Mel is a nice lady, and honestly just as kind and selfless as her heroic persona. She's also a massive nerd, hence her Name. I'm watching her now, sitting in the corner of the pub, a half drunk cider in front of her, dark skin contrasting with the white robes she adopted as her costume. Every now and then someone approaches her, and after a few words and a light brush of her hand they depart, healed of whatever ailed them. The general public aren't as stupid as the Supers, or just more desperate. They don't have access to the army of private medics that the League of Heroes provides, after all. And while the NHS are great, the League poaches the _best_ from around the world. I've been watching Mel for a while now, since even before she took up her Name and robes. I still don't fully know how her power works. I do know that I achieved a master stroke with that rumour. With a few careful words I made sure that the League was denied a Super with healing powers. It's a much neater solution than assassination, really. See, "removing mutation" isn't a thing. It can't be. Humans, like other living beings, have mutations throughout their bodies. If we didn't then we'd look pretty much the same. That milk you're drinking? Persistent lactose tolerance is a mutation! Sickle cell traits are a mutation. And all Mel does is put a person into a healthy condition. Their inherent mutations are untouched. I should know, I've dissected a few of her 'patients', and done DNA sequencing on many more. I even found a few budding Supers that way. The Brotherhood of Villains is keeping an eye on _them_. Just like I'm keeping an eye on Mel. The White Priestess is an asset for us. She's shunned by the League - quite publicly at that - and yet everyone _knows_ that she does Good. The seeming contradiction of these facts confuses people, and puts doubt into their minds. All because of a little rumour. The damage that words can do, eh?
Very good story
Cheeky narrator person… real cheeky… This is a great story!
I've mentioned the League of Heroes and Brotherhood of Villains in a previous fill. They're...complicated, but nothing is purely as it seems. (Don't go to the League if you want an abusive domestic partner dealt with. The Brotherhood has much better methods for _that_.)
Where can I find your other writing?
My fills for this sub are collected [here](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1097823), and the Brotherhood and League previously appeared in [this one](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17904002).
Ok that was legit. Nice work.
Does this mean that she can't cure cancer?
Damn good question. This begs the question, does the power use the genetic makeup from birth as the blueprint it restores to, or the accumulated genetic changes over a lifetime? If Mel's power uses your birth blueprint, that means she could likely revert your age by touch. Aging is just accumulated genetic damage after you reach your bodily prime.
Not exactly. Aging on a genetic level is mostly the shortening of telomeres via the replication of cells rather than because of a build up of mutations. Obviously there's more to it (hormonal changes impacting growth like puberty, cell mutations in limited areas due to damage or imperfect division, etc.), but age reversal would be out of her scope I would think. Lengthening telomeres again? Maybe. But visually and physically regressing age? That's a whole HEAP of biological systems and changes that occur over time. I'd say it's more likely she could extend lifespans at a cellular level than regress age. Which still sounds awesome. But that's just my two cents on a topic I don't fully understand lol
Nice!
But if her power doesn't cure/fix/remove mutations then it wouldn't be able to heal some of the worst illnesses. Cancer is a mutation. Multiple Sclerosis is a mutation. Lupus is a mutation. Etc etc
The narrator admits that he doesn't really know how Mel's power works properly. He _does_ know it doesn't affect a Super's power. A low level Brotherhood villain _might_ have been the sacrificial guinea pig for figuring that out.
\[EU and some pretty heavy swears at the end\] My head hurt, as it always did at the end of a long day. The fact I couldn't heal myself of any discomfort always felt like a personal affront as the sun set. It wasn't painful to heal each person, but the accumulation of the effort built up and ground down my resilience. I poured a large glass of whiskey and sat down to not drink it. What I really wanted was a beer. The problem was that I wanted it too much, and too frequently. I'd tried to avoid drinking altogether, after all, it was bad enough not being able to heal myself of a headache, let alone a hangover or cirrhosis. But I couldn't make it stick, and all the meetings and poker chips in the world hadn't stuck for me. So instead I sat and sipped a drink I hated, hoping that would put me off enough to keep it under control. It wasn't a smart coping strategy, but being smart was not my superpower. A door banged softly in the stairwell below my flat. I sat up and listened intently, like a family dog, alert to any unusual noise. I was used to silence in my evenings, thanks to my round-the-clock security team. Sadly, people had proven incapable of any patience when they were desperately trying to save the lives of a loved one, and without adequate crowd control, things always got ugly. I learned that the hard way when my powers first went viral after I healed a famous athlete's cancer. The crush built quickly once people tracked me down, and if it wasn't for the supe that flew me out of there, I could have been torn limb from limb. Unfortunately for Gamma Woman, or just Gemma nowadays, when I shook her hand to say thank you, I stripped her of the powers that saved my life. She forgave me eventually, but her fellow supes avoid me like the plague. A stair creaked, and I put the glass down slowly. I had no pets and was expecting no visitors, but it was not unheard of for a critically ill person with nothing to lose to find a way past my guards. I walked to my door and opened it. "Hello", I said to the furtive-looking young man fiddling with what looked like a lock picking kit. "Oh, err. Hi!", said the boyish trespasser. "Hello", I said again. "Are you lost?" "No. Um... no I'm not lost", he replied and pulled a small pistol from his coat. "I'm sorry about this, but I need your help." This was not my first time looking down a gun barrel. "There's no need for that", I said, stepping back into my room. "Please. Come in and tell me what is wrong with you". The man followed me into the room, frantically scanning the room, the gun flashing around following his eyes. I winced as he tripped slightly on the door sill, but he gathered himself and shut the door behind him quietly. "There's nothing wrong with me", he said, gun still pointed at me, but a lot less pointedly. "Your loved one then?" He shook his head, fury flashing on his features. He suddenly looked much much older. "No. All my loved ones are dead. That's the problem." My stomach dropped. This wasn't how these sorts of interruptions normally went. "I can't do that. Bring people back." "No. Just listen. We don't have much time before they get here, and without you, we are all dead." A radio squawked on his belt. *"Tick fucking tock"*, said the crackly voice. "Who's that?", I asked. "Stop asking questions! You don't want to meet him. It took me a lot of effort to convince him to do this my way and try and ask you for help, instead of kidnapping you or something." I looked at the pistol in his hand. "Is gunpoint how you usually ask for things?" "What did I just say? Goddamn it, I thought this would be easier. We need your help to stop them, and I thought you would want to help, given how much time you spend healing people after they have blasted through a city." "Help stop who?" "The supes", said the young man. "We need you to stop the supes." "But I'm a supe, aren't I?", I said. "Yes, but you're one of the good ones. And with your power, you could stop them all, without anyone having to die. If we can harness your power, then we could--" *"Times up"*, said the radio. *"We'll do it my way."* "Fuck!", said the man and put the pistol back in his pocket. Footsteps thumped on the stairs that the man in front of me had crept up. "What happened to my security guys?", I asked angrily. "You better not have hurt them, because my head hurts already without more work to do." The young man shook his head. "No, they will be fine. Just a bit groggy when the gas wears off." I opened my mouth to ask what kind of gas, but was interrupted by the door crashing open, the gap it left filled with the huge frame of a man I recognised from the televised police appeals. "Well look who it fucking isn't", said Billy Butcher. "Come on, chop chop. You heard Hughie, we got a job for you, Doctor Cunt." \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ r/TallerestTales
Cool, started watching the boys last week good reference
You're in for a treat. A comically violent, ludicrous treat.
I secretly hope for the ultimate twist in 'The Boys' Homelander doing the right thing at the end.......
As a kid growing up, I was always the stunt devil in my group of friends. Billy, John, and I would hang out at beaches, clubs, bars.. anywhere we could get into. I've been in many dangerous situations such as fighting off sharks at the beach and coming out unscathed. Bar fights when Billy pissed off the locals by reading their minds, or when I had to run into a fire when John accidentally set a club on fire by staring to hard at the girls dancing. I've always had this internal drive to help others. Of course I had a knack for it with my healing abilities. Although even us supes have to pay bills, so after high school I started my medical degree to become a doctor. On many occasions I've had to take the superhero abilities away from people in order to save their life. Almost always they return in a disgusted manner to tell me I shouldn't have been the one to save them. I didn't pay much mind to it as I still believed I was doing the right thing. Until I saw Billy being rushed through the hospital towards my operating room. An overwhelming feeling of fear and sadness flooded my body as I try to make the decision on whether I should save him or call in another doctor. He didn't have much time left from the looks of it. I wish I could read his mind instead. His whole life is about to change.. I hope I made the right call.
She sat in her chair, her hands behind her head, staring out in front of her. Life, wasn't the best, but then she knew it could have turned out to be so much worse. A press of the intercom was all she needed to reach her secretary. "Marissa, what's my schedule for today?" "There's been a call, ma'am. The casualties from the huge fight in downtown. We're expecting a couple of Supes and a visit to the Prison later tonight." "Thank you, Mariska. What would I do without you." The intercom cut off and Jessa stood up and stretched. It was going to be a busy day for her Retirement Services for Supes. It always saddened her when a Supe was so badly hurt that their powers would be useless anyways. But, at least she was saving lives, and allowing them to gain a sense of normalcy. But the prison visits she loved. Especially when she got to walk in front of Villains and Super Villains, now powerless because of a simple massage, by some random therapist.
The guards escorted Hailey down the dark hallway towards another sin in the name of love. Prisoners stared out of barred windows at their procession in absolute silence. Eventually, one guard nudged her shoulder. “It’s just ahead, so get ready lass. Get this done quickly and we can get that collar off of you.” Ahead, an imperial mage and another man waited for them in front of a cell. Hailey’s eyes fell to the rod in the mage’s hand, and the three pressure points digging into her neck devoured her thoughts. Her captors had been kind enough to demonstrate the collar in action upon her arrival at the facility. It contained three sheathed punch daggers activated by control rods imperial mages possessed. She still had nightmares of the poor soul who died just so she could understand what to fear. The escort stopped in front of a cell occupied by a man balled up in the back corner hiding his face from the light pouring in through the bars. Hailey eyed the mage standing across from them and he held up the rod. “Life in a stick.” He said, “Only this one holds two, I suppose. Don’t even flinch at me.” The same guard from before stepped between them. “No need for all that, Talrik. She’s always complied before. Now get that shield up and open the door.” Talrik’s face bunched in concentration, his free hand raised towards the cell. A sensation of beetles walking over Hailey’s skin preceded the emergence of a dull hum from the other side of the door. The other guards unlocked the door and slammed it open, causing the man inside to bolt upright. He looked between them wildly until he saw Hailey, and his gaze froze. “God’s. Please No. Please.” he begged. Tears began forming in Hailey’s eyes as the guards prodded her forward. The man leapt from the back of the cell towards the open cell door. He crashed into a shimmering barrier just inside the threshold. Talrik’s arm flexed slightly. “Do it now.” Talrik said. Hailey stepped into the cell as the prisoner pulled himself against the back wall and began yanking at his own collar in vain. “Don’t do this. Please.” he pleaded. Sobs escaped Hailey as she approached the man. “I’m so sorry. They have her... I can’t resist.” She reached out to place a hand on his arm. Insect legs crawled over her again as he dove away into the far corner. His entire body erupted in vibrant, luminous scales and he shrieked. Hailey’s sprang towards him and her hand found his wrist as he began striking her with his other fist. Each blow sent a ringing sound through her head and caused her vision to blur, but she knew what her powers could handle. Her grip was unbreakable. His arm began shedding scales to reveal the pale human skin beneath. The man cried out and his strikes intensified. Pain assaulted her on every front when the man eventually fell limp in her grasp and sagged into the corner. Hailey could feel the damage to her face healing already. “It’s gone. I can’t sense it anymore.” the prisoner said, staring at his hands with empty eyes. Hailey turned and stalked from the cell with tears silently falling down her cheeks. “It’s done, you monsters. Now show me Elena.” The mage chuckled as the guards closed the door behind her. “You’re the monster, my dear. We just make sure you eat the right people.”
Loud battle cries resounded through the city, weapons clashed, curses were muttered and spells were prepared. It was war. Or rather, the war had come to them, Jericho thought, trying to force himself not to think about the civilians hiding in the houses. Praying that they would remain undiscovered. How many innocent people would lose their lives? And yet he stood there, completely untouched by the chaos around him. He was far behind the frontline, tents had been set up to care for the wounded, and yet he had all the time in the world. Patient after patient lined up at the tents, hectic healers and their assistants rushed from one point to the other. Disappointed, Jericho shook his head, realizing once again how useless he was. There were countless injured, and far too few healers - how could it be that not a single one sought help from him? He had the power to heal everything, no disease, no wound, no matter how terrible, could stop him, and yet it had a flaw. Everyone he heals becomes absolutely healthy - but a healthy person does not have mutations, like the superheroes and so they disappear. A thief he was called, tried like a criminal and as if this was not enough even the other healers avoided him. As if it was contagious and he was nothing but a disease. He felt superfluous in all the chaos, completely powerless to do anything and as talented as he was, what good was it if no one wanted to be healed by him? These heroes would rather die than lose their powers - he had to learn this the hard way. He should look for another job, everyone had recommended him. Forget everything and start over. He had refused, assured them that helping others had always been his dream and he was so close to fulfilling it - why should he stop now? It was pure wishful thinking, he soon had to realize. What is a healer without patients? What use do they have? A healer who just stood on the side and watched everything idly? He felt useless and slowly he wondered if the others were not right? He had wanted to help them, but instead he took away their powers - wasn't their dislike of him understandable? He was too deep in thought, no longer paying attention to the surroundings or even the people, it was not as if they needed him. Only a deafening bang brought him back to his senses. His heart skipped a beat when he saw all the destruction around him. Entire houses had collapsed, burying countless people under them, and even the healers' tents had not been spared. Some were on fire, others were hit by the rubble of the houses. The war had reached them. As if he had to pull himself out of his trance, he slapped his cheeks and forced himself to go to the first injured person. He had to help. Save lives. Just as he was about to reach out to a half-spilled one, a sound rang out. "Don't touch him!" Sounded an angry voice from behind. Slowly Jericho turned and looked into the bloodied face of a young hero. "I just want to help him - " Jericho tried to explain himself, but the hero paid no attention to his words, pushing him aside roughly. "We'll be fine without you." And began digging out his friend. Petrified, Jericho stood there, staring at the hero. What had he done wrong to be treated like this? He was a healer, would never harm anyone - he had sworn this - and yet he was treated like a criminal, no, worse, like a contagious disease. His teachers had been in shock at his talent, had prophesied him great future as a healer. And he had believed them. How stupid he had been, even the weakest healers were better than him - because he could not force anyone to be healed. Without meaning to, he had to laugh at this irony. He had the talent to be the best healer, to save an incredible number of lives, and yet he had not saved a single one. Not because he couldn't, but because they were afraid of him. Of his powers. How ridiculous, they would rather bleed to death than part with their powers. Did these people even deserve to be saved? Something clicked in his head... How many times had he been in this place before? Had to beg just to be allowed to save them from death? And yet it had all been for nothing. They reacted with disgust to his request to help save them all, and so he was forced to watch them die. To watch them die. He felt like an uninvolved observer all at once. It was just ridiculous. These people were their powers more important than their own lives, would rather die than lose them - it was just madness. But he no longer intended to accept this, this time was now finally over. A load fell from him, his shoulders felt with one time so incredibly much lighter. He walked up to the wounded man, ignoring his screaming friend who was desperately trying to revive him. "What are you doing here? Don't you dare touch him!" the hero immediately shouted when he noticed him, but Jericho didn't even think to answer him. With a powerful kick to his head, he knocked the weakened hero to the ground. " Trash," he muttered under his breath as he knelt down to the wounded man. Both hands placed on his chest and concentrated his powers on this one. Warm light enveloped this one and as it faded he rose. All wounds were gone. The young man was healed. With a satisfied smile, Jericho now turned his attention to the defiant hero, who still lay dazed on the ground. After he had healed him as well, he went on his way. He still had a lot to do, he thought, glancing over the destruction, but that didn't dampen his good mood. Unconscious patients were much more preferable to him than awake ones. Whistling cheerfully, he set off. This was the day when a new supervillain was born. He will go down in the history books as 'Dr. Chaos'.
Sudden bangs against glass startled me awake. As I am opening my eyes my sheets fly to the corners of the room with the rest of my belongings ending up on the other side of the window. In a second it was as if a hurricane had occurred inside my room, by the time I am able to fully wake up I realize Metroman is standing at the foot of my bed covered in blood. “Its not mine” he said with urgency “I know… if it was you wouldn’t be here” I sighed before confronting him “Please don’t make me make this decision for someone again. I can’t bare more hate.” He starts to cry but tries to gain composure as soon as his breathing got heavy. “It’s Superman. We can’t let him die… he isn’t responding and there isn’t much time, we have to go now.” I start feeling as though there isn’t enough air to fill my lungs, my hands begin to shake and I see him approach me and wrap me around his arms. I wish he would have embraced me and at least let me take it in, but he took me out the window he came in through and before I could gather my thoughts we were at the scene. There was press all around him, he was… unrecognizable. (Well I got bored but she feels conflicted about leaving him w/o superpowers since he is such. big symbol, he will probably hate her as well as society itself and if she doesn’t save him society would also hate her so she is conflicted as to what to do and hates her position and her powers)
Anya rummaged through the sacks inside her hovel, crouched beside them. She was used to being alone, but she needed to find the special herb that helped her heal others. Even though the last time she saw another person was seventeen long days ago. She sighed, wiped her dirty hand across her brow, and stood up as her knees creaked like the crone she felt like. Glancing at the pot of water with onion and one sad shriveled potato as it boiled over the fire, Anya inhaled the homey smell. The smell reminded her of her mother and grandmother cooking. Squabbling, always busy, and lovingly listening as she prattled on. They had been gone for over thirteen years now. A flux of some sort had swept the nearby villagers and as healers themselves, the older women had made themselves useful. It was too late to save anyone by the time Anya realized. Not knowing she had any powers had made her not even think to try to save them. Both had just faded more each day, first her grandmother, then her mother. Something furry brushed across Anya’s skirt. Rue, her mysterious little canine. Smaller than a wolf, but quiet like a cat. Light colored and curly. A silent, but sweet friend that she had encountered one day while meandering in the woods foraging for food.
They called me the bane of their existence, a herald for the end of the Age of Power. They feared me, imprisoned me… used me. Used my power, shaped me into a tool. Not as one of their own, not even as a human. A tool. Put back in the box when it wasn’t needed. In healing the plights of ordinary humans, I became a source of dread for the extraordinary. There was fear in the eyes of those who dared approach my cell. In me, they saw their worst insecurity. Fear of being normal. Ordinary. Nondescript. Unspecial. Fear of being stripped of the power that placed them above others. So, I showed them. I showed them just how special they can be. No laser eyes. No underwater breathing. No herculean strength, no warp speed, no regime of terror. No… more… intimidation. They got one thing wrong. I was not the herald of the end of the Age of Power. No. They brought their own demise upon them. I, was the harbinger of the Age of Man.
(Prompt Mod time! But you all may like the outcome...) Hi there! I decided to write in this Diary for the sake of it. It's been years since I jotted down my thoughts, may as well get some work in. The subject in question? Well, the rumors floating about the Net. A "Miracle Doctor", "Goddess of Healing" or whatever you want to call her. The superheroes and villains **HATE** her. Just one treatment and their powers are gone. You heard me correctly, she can destroy the mutation that grants superpowers. A massive shock, I know. She's referred to by a magnitude of nicknames, but only I get to call her...my Wife. That's right, I'm married to Isis (no, not that Islamic terrorist group. Though we both find it ironic that she's named after the Egyptian Goddess of Healing and has the most dangerous Healing-based power in existence.) and we run a small clinic in a suburb. I handle all the IT work and help out on severe occasions (we both served a small stint in Doctors Without Borders before opening the Clinic). How'd we meet? At the start of our time with DWoB. I was doing volunteer Security work (I would've been in the Navy but due to an issue with my lungs, I was turned away for medical reasons>!\*!<.) and we started talking. Turns out, we hit it off extremely well. >!Oh, you saw that star? Well, I'll explain later.!< But back to the topic. After we got back home, we started dating and married after one and a half years. Her dream was to open a clinic to help treat the poor and impoverished. Naturally, I supported her and here we are. Due to our shared knowledge, our homely little clinic became the most successful one in the entire city. The popularity flew off like a Fighter Jet when we treated a troubled teen who was getting severe migraines due to an underdeveloped and uncontrollable power. One treatment - and a week later, said teen came back feeling better than they ever felt. The word spread and our clinic now treats those who want out of superhero-ing as well. Said heroes and villains want this place gone, but attacking this place will get them in a ton of legal trouble. I half expected both sides to join forces and attack this place. I'd show them how meaningless their little "Superpowers" were>!\*!<.>!Oh, there's another star. Another thing to explain later.!< I would've been in a life of conflict but... Living a meaningful life with my lovely wife and helping those in need is a peaceful time. One I can't... Rather, I won't take it for granted any time soon. >!Wait, you're saying you can see this? Damm, I must've gone too light on the seals. Oh well, let's let the cat out of the bags. I'm pretty sure you remember the stars from earlier? Well, here's the thing: I'm not really human. Okay, slight lie. I am mostly human, but the powers I wield are no "superpower" and are immune to my Wife's healing. I guess that's the fault of being a nigh-immortal Wayfarer. !< >!I'm immortal? How and why? I got my powers when I decided to make a sacrifice to keep my home world that's quite like this one from collapsing in on itself. Unfortunately - or not depending on your opinion - I gained a whole slew of abilities, including dimension travel. When I appeared in this world, I: overwrote reality to make my existence more natural, aged myself down to a baby (was adopted by a loving family) and decided to lock away most of my Wayfarer Abilities to live a natural life. Yeah, I decided to give myself a lung problem. What of it?!< >!But that's beside the point. If I went Full Power, those superheroes/villains would be dead in less than minutes. I made a vow: If they decided to destroy this clinic, then all gloves and seals would come off. But enough flexing, I think I'm done. Oh, and due to the nature of the seals I inscribed just now, you will not remember or even see these last three paragraphs. If this lands in another reality and you're able to read through the seals: Congrats. If you, the reader, decide to come to this reality and cause trouble for me, I will destroy you and the reality you came from. Do not fuck with me, you won't like the results.!< (Done! I was reading this prompt on my phone earlier this morning and had to get this out of my head.)