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random stuff
- Thread starter greyblob
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tiaf
ゞ(シㅇ3ㅇ)っ•♥•Speak fishy, read BL.•♥•
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Oi, don’t call me out and take away the cameras you hid around me.
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Tempokai
The Overworked One
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A bedtime story for the isekai gods who love to give out cheats to everyone:
Ah, the classic isekai scenario, where a regular Joe—or should I say, regular Joji—gets whisked away to a fantasy world by gods who seem to have an unlimited supply of cheat codes and zero foresight. But let's add a twist to this overused trope.
Picture this: The Celestial Regulation Body (CRB), an organization as bureaucratic as it is divine, is in an uproar. They're the ones who handle the fine print of universe management, and they've just noticed a worrying trend. Too many Japanese folks are being plucked from their mundane lives and thrown into fantastical realms with god-like powers. It's like every deity got the same memo: "Want to spice up your world? Just add a human!"
In the grand, cloud-wrapped conference room of the CRB, a heated debate ensues. The gods, ranging from entry-level deities to celestial bigwigs, are all pointing fingers.
"Why is it always Japan?" grumbles an old god who looks like he's been managing the same celestial sector since the dawn of time. "And why do they always get the cool powers? In my day, you were lucky if you got reincarnated as a slightly charismatic toad."
Meanwhile, the more practical concerns are raised by the head of Celestial Stability. She's pacing, her ethereal robes fluttering with each step. "Do you realize the implications? These 'heroes' are causing a multiverse imbalance. At this rate, we'll have more heroes than civilians in these worlds. Who will they save when everyone's saving everyone?"
The junior gods, the ones responsible for most of these isekai shenanigans, are on the defensive. "It's not our fault! Have you seen the ratings? Mortals love this stuff! Ever since 'Hero-Kun Defeats the Dark Lord with Modern Knowledge and a Smartphone,' the demand has skyrocketed."
In the corner, sipping ambrosia, is the god of Irony. He's loving every moment of this. "Isn't it funny," he muses, "how these gods are playing SimCity with actual universes? What's next, giving a high schooler the power to control time because he's late for his exams?"
As the meeting drags on, the solutions range from the sensible (limit the number of isekai occurrences per millennium) to the absurd (how about a reverse isekai, where fantasy characters get sent to modern Japan to learn about taxes and public transport?).
In the end, they decide on a trial period. For the next hundred years, isekai occurrences will be halved, and each hero will be thoroughly vetted. No more random selections based on who looks the most bored in class.
But as the gods disperse, the god of Irony can't help but smirk. After all, bureaucracy in the celestial realm isn't so different from the human world: lots of talk, minimal action, and the inevitable chaos when plans don't go quite as expected.
Picture this: The Celestial Regulation Body (CRB), an organization as bureaucratic as it is divine, is in an uproar. They're the ones who handle the fine print of universe management, and they've just noticed a worrying trend. Too many Japanese folks are being plucked from their mundane lives and thrown into fantastical realms with god-like powers. It's like every deity got the same memo: "Want to spice up your world? Just add a human!"
In the grand, cloud-wrapped conference room of the CRB, a heated debate ensues. The gods, ranging from entry-level deities to celestial bigwigs, are all pointing fingers.
"Why is it always Japan?" grumbles an old god who looks like he's been managing the same celestial sector since the dawn of time. "And why do they always get the cool powers? In my day, you were lucky if you got reincarnated as a slightly charismatic toad."
Meanwhile, the more practical concerns are raised by the head of Celestial Stability. She's pacing, her ethereal robes fluttering with each step. "Do you realize the implications? These 'heroes' are causing a multiverse imbalance. At this rate, we'll have more heroes than civilians in these worlds. Who will they save when everyone's saving everyone?"
The junior gods, the ones responsible for most of these isekai shenanigans, are on the defensive. "It's not our fault! Have you seen the ratings? Mortals love this stuff! Ever since 'Hero-Kun Defeats the Dark Lord with Modern Knowledge and a Smartphone,' the demand has skyrocketed."
In the corner, sipping ambrosia, is the god of Irony. He's loving every moment of this. "Isn't it funny," he muses, "how these gods are playing SimCity with actual universes? What's next, giving a high schooler the power to control time because he's late for his exams?"
As the meeting drags on, the solutions range from the sensible (limit the number of isekai occurrences per millennium) to the absurd (how about a reverse isekai, where fantasy characters get sent to modern Japan to learn about taxes and public transport?).
In the end, they decide on a trial period. For the next hundred years, isekai occurrences will be halved, and each hero will be thoroughly vetted. No more random selections based on who looks the most bored in class.
But as the gods disperse, the god of Irony can't help but smirk. After all, bureaucracy in the celestial realm isn't so different from the human world: lots of talk, minimal action, and the inevitable chaos when plans don't go quite as expected.