A/N: Got bored. If I offended you by accident, it's with love. Also it's real bad grammar wise.
"Hi, my name is Billy and I want to be a journalist when I grow up" is how to introduce yourself if you have high enough hopes, like the majority of the site. My real name is Johatt Johannsoon, but YWS members call me 'Will' or 'Strange'. They call me the latter due to it being my user name and the collection of squirrels I have in my crawl space, but I tend to be quiet about the last one.
The site is ran by Nathan Bruce Lee Caldwell, who's pretty good. We did have a misunderstanding about an incident at the park which gave me food poisioning, yet he denies this claim. He knows we all know it was him in Fists of Fury, yet he won't confess. Not only that, but I'm pretty sure he's a Nationals fan, so I'm glad Scherzer didn't get that perfect game. Go Braves!
I spend too much time on the club "The Writers Tournament', which is a club for writers to compete. Now, as a joke, I signed up for a horror story which eventually lead me into participating in the finals, which I got whooped. However, it's still fun. Recently, I got requested to be an alternate by the host ScalettFire in the Powers tournament. After a few days, I entered chat to get this.
Strange has entered the room
ScarlettFire: HEY WILL. TPT. NOW.
Strange: Did I even get an opponent yet?
ScarlettFire:That's why you're facing me.
See, I usually enter the tournaments with low hopes because I think I can never achieve anything. My hopes were even lower, considering I'll be facing a good writer with much more skill with me in magic. I mean, sure, I play Magic: The Gathering but this is about writing it. I was fine with knowing I'll lose, until Scar had triggered me.
ScarlettFire:You're going down!
I was peeved for two reasons. One is that people who say that offends me, and the other is that I've used all my voodoo dolls on the new users who came over from WattPad. However, I shouldn't show that I was offended, so I decided to come back with the best reply I could.
Strange: No, you!
The next thing I remember is a group of people in dark green morph suits breaking into my house and beating me with wrenches. Now, where am I? I am at the highly prestigious YWS Colliseum where it's reserved for, get this, fights to the death. After I said "no, you!", they sent in an official duel request and I was sent here. Right now, I am waiting for Scar to make their entrance and looking around the stadium.
Everything is segmented. Everything from poets to obscure script writers, I am in front of a full stadium. I started to realize that everyone was in cliques, so I decided to find mine. As I turned around, I find the 'Satirists' section, which was the most empty. Only DivineFool and MargoSeuss sat there, waving. I waved back.
Nearly everyone is going for Scar, as all I see are "ScarlettFire, not Strange The Liar!" shirts and signs in the distance. I don't even get that reference. On my left, I see user Tuesday holding a sign saying "Scar for Mod!", and right next to her is JKHatt, holding a sign that says "Orange Sunkist!". In my corner is a mysterious figure with a tag that says 'Blackwood'.
"Why is there no one in your corner, little kid?" He says. I find it funny, considering I tower over him.
"I don't know, maybe I should stop being an as-" I didn't finish, as the crowd went quiet. A tap on the microphone is audible. A tall figure arrives from a hole in the middle, holding a microphone while wearing a light green morph suit. Above his head is a tag that says 'Lumi'. He goes to Scarlett's corner, converses, then heads over to mine.
"Stranger Danger!" His voice booms.
"That's the spirit." Lumi walks to the middle, taps on the mic, and holds it to his mouth. People are prepared yet frightened, waiting for this fight to start. I've safely assumed he is the announcer.
"Ladies an-" he was halfway through when loud cheering erupts from the mod section. User Fortis is standing up and clapping, along with everyone.
"I love your voice!" Fortis yells at Lumi.
"I know." Lumi winks at her, legitimately causing Fortis to faint.
"So, no-" more cheering arises, "no cheering? Okay? Okay. Now, who here is ready for the ninth ever YWS chat rules SUPA SLAMMA MONSTA JAMMA between user Scar," cheering erupts, "and Strange?" The crowd is near quiet, except for a few stray whistles. Lumi nods, then shoots off a cap gun. I look at Scar, intending to call off this fight.
"I don't even want to fi-"
"Age manipulation! You're now nine years old!" Scar points at me, then I shrink down to five feet, face becomes less pudgier, "aren't you supposed to be smaller? Like, aren't nine year olds short?"
"I was a tall kid." I reply back. I start rushing towards them, but then an uppercut hit me. Soon after that, more punches were delivered to my body as the YWS crowd watched a twenty five year old beat up a nine year old. Scar grabs me in a chokehold, but then I slipped out, aiming for the exit.
"Acid breath!" Scar shrieks. Acid soon drenches me, burning all of my skin at contact. Somehow, it soon regenerates, but the burning sensation is still evident. I barely have any feeling in my legs and arms as I try to crawl out. The titantron announces that I was a loser, which prompts the crowd to start chanting it.
As I get up, I realize what it is to be beaten down, especially by someone a great age difference ahead of me. The crowd cheers, Black cheers, even the whole city cheers. Once I get to the door, I decide to give it one more shot.
"Your novel reminds me of Twilight."
They combust right there. The crowd collectively gasps as I laugh about my victory and head out. A smooth folk song plays in my mind as I limp through the empty hall. My skin is still burning.
Never would I expect Scar to combust, I'd expected a disappointed private message. If I tell this to my grandkids, they would take this as some great underdog story, but it's not. It's something you would expect from some dumb 14 year old. However, it still will provide a laugh. A good, hearty la-
"Hey Strange!" Somebody emerges from the shadows. Coincidentally, they have a blur over their face and a tag that says 'Somebody'.
"I don't like how inconsiderate you're being!" They yell in my face.
"What do you mean?"
"What about the users you didn't mention! Do you know how heartbroken they'll be? That's rude!"
"Well, if I could, I would name drop Iggy, Rurouni, Birkhoff, CutiePantsMcGee, Arkhaion, Pamplemousse, Prokaryote, Pretzelsing, ForgottenMemories, Shiney, Pan, Unconsoled, Deanie, Flite, Snoink, Rosendorn, LadySpark, Blues, CaptainSaltWater, Gringoamericano, TommySneak, AriaAdams, Alpha, Morrigan, DeeDemesne, Meandbooks, Steampowered, Greatman, freakforchrist, Aley, Noelle, Holysocks, TimmyJake, ThereseCricket, AdrianMoon, TheSc-"
"I get it," they cut me off, "but do you know how self aware, rude, and unfunny you're being?"
"That's the point. Also, I find this hilarious." They responded this line by slapping me in the face and walking back into the shadows. I walk out into the parking lot and onto the city. Heck, I actually don't what city I'm in. Out of nowhere, screaming comes from behind me, and something hits me hard in the back of the head, knocking me to the ground.
I look up to see Nate wearing a yellow and black jumpsuit, pacing back and forth.
"Just roundhoused you! How do you like it?" He asks.
"It's--wait, I thought you said you weren't Bruce Lee?"
Fear flushes into his face, as doves appear from behind him and lifts him onto heaven. I can feel blood creeping down my back as I stare at the pavemeant. I must admit, this is oddly comfy. I use my arms as pillows and try to sleep.
"One new notifications!" A loud voice booms from the sky, then drops a white box. Notifications always got me excited. I open the box to see something shocking.
"1 new discussion post on Love Talk (Guy Talk)"
I curl back into fetal position, tears start falling from my eyes.