[newtypeshadow] the church of bubble wrap
Title: The Church of Bubble Wrap
Author: newtypeshadow
Rating: PG
Fandom: Original
Pairing: none
Wordcount: ~620
Warnings: Given the inspiration, the tone is not what you'd expect.
Notes: The comments that inspired the fic are from iriththedreamer's utterly adorable bubble wrap prompt fic. The threads in question are this one (iriththedreamer and me) and this one (iriththedreamer and tygati).
The new converts happily sit beside longtime church members, and only when the Prophet raises his hands at the pulpit do people settle down into the pews and idly touch the plastic bubbles wrapped in thick rolls around cardboard tubes attached to the top of each backrest. Each member must be careful not to lean back too far in their own pew, lest they pop someone else's bubble wrap before the appointed time for bubble popping begins.
With a ceremonial air, the Prophet takes the bubble wrap belt he wears, and pops the outermost bubble while saying a few opening words. It's as if a spell has fallen over the congregation then: everyone's face melts into a vapid smile, and eyes become vacant.
As one, the congregation unrolls the bubble wrap before them, and the popping begins.
At the front of the room, the Prophet-Mage Packington, though none of these foolish people know magic exists, much less that they are under a mage's spell-watches them pop bubble after bubble wrap bubble. Only Packington can see the magic each little bubble releases, staining the air with its colorful, smoke-like residue before slithering through the air and into Packington's bubble belt.
The congregation will pop bubbles for hours, still staring placidly at the bubble wrap unspooling before them with those stupid smiles on their faces. Packington sighs and sits down at the table he's set at the front of the church, and picks up one of the books on it. He might as well get some reading done while these idiots pop away their lives. Or, rather, a few hours each week. But it added up to a lot, and each bubble pop freed that much more magic for Packington to use as he desired.
Not that he uses much magic for anything beyond enslaving foolish humans to pop more bubble wrap for him. No, he's saving each pop-saving it for the day when he'll have enough to leave this miserable parallel universe and return to his own, in style.
The mage council had no business exiling him to a universe where magic was so well hidden. Had he not started ordering books from that store in Europe-all the books with the most actual magic were sold from there-he would never have popped that bubble in the packaging by accident, and then who knows where he'd be?
...But it is best not to think about that. Packington instead opens the topmost spell book, gets out his journal, and starts making notes. Perhaps for the head of the mage council's punishment, he'll combine this body regeneration spell with one that burns each successive body alive. The man has a pet phoenix-let them roast and regenerate together! ...But of course, for the stupid head mage, there will be much more pain than for the bird.
Three hours later, the converts come back to themselves to the Prophet's guiding words. In front of them, the rolls of bubble wrap are completely flattened. They smile to themselves-why, the time has simply flown by! Their bubble wrap meditation must really be working, too, because despite not remembering popping so many bubbles, they feel just fantastic!
The Prophet closes the service, and the congregation rises and greets each other once more, and approach their prophet to thank and praise him. He smiles benignly and gives each a little bow before sending them on their way feeling, if possible, even better about themselves and the coming week than before.
After the last one leaves, Packington's smile turns decidedly more sinister. He will reward them all when they have popped enough to send him home. He just hasn't decided if he'll reward them with joy, or with fire.
Author: newtypeshadow
Rating: PG
Fandom: Original
Pairing: none
Wordcount: ~620
Warnings: Given the inspiration, the tone is not what you'd expect.
Notes: The comments that inspired the fic are from iriththedreamer's utterly adorable bubble wrap prompt fic. The threads in question are this one (iriththedreamer and me) and this one (iriththedreamer and tygati).
The new converts happily sit beside longtime church members, and only when the Prophet raises his hands at the pulpit do people settle down into the pews and idly touch the plastic bubbles wrapped in thick rolls around cardboard tubes attached to the top of each backrest. Each member must be careful not to lean back too far in their own pew, lest they pop someone else's bubble wrap before the appointed time for bubble popping begins.
With a ceremonial air, the Prophet takes the bubble wrap belt he wears, and pops the outermost bubble while saying a few opening words. It's as if a spell has fallen over the congregation then: everyone's face melts into a vapid smile, and eyes become vacant.
As one, the congregation unrolls the bubble wrap before them, and the popping begins.
At the front of the room, the Prophet-Mage Packington, though none of these foolish people know magic exists, much less that they are under a mage's spell-watches them pop bubble after bubble wrap bubble. Only Packington can see the magic each little bubble releases, staining the air with its colorful, smoke-like residue before slithering through the air and into Packington's bubble belt.
The congregation will pop bubbles for hours, still staring placidly at the bubble wrap unspooling before them with those stupid smiles on their faces. Packington sighs and sits down at the table he's set at the front of the church, and picks up one of the books on it. He might as well get some reading done while these idiots pop away their lives. Or, rather, a few hours each week. But it added up to a lot, and each bubble pop freed that much more magic for Packington to use as he desired.
Not that he uses much magic for anything beyond enslaving foolish humans to pop more bubble wrap for him. No, he's saving each pop-saving it for the day when he'll have enough to leave this miserable parallel universe and return to his own, in style.
The mage council had no business exiling him to a universe where magic was so well hidden. Had he not started ordering books from that store in Europe-all the books with the most actual magic were sold from there-he would never have popped that bubble in the packaging by accident, and then who knows where he'd be?
...But it is best not to think about that. Packington instead opens the topmost spell book, gets out his journal, and starts making notes. Perhaps for the head of the mage council's punishment, he'll combine this body regeneration spell with one that burns each successive body alive. The man has a pet phoenix-let them roast and regenerate together! ...But of course, for the stupid head mage, there will be much more pain than for the bird.
Three hours later, the converts come back to themselves to the Prophet's guiding words. In front of them, the rolls of bubble wrap are completely flattened. They smile to themselves-why, the time has simply flown by! Their bubble wrap meditation must really be working, too, because despite not remembering popping so many bubbles, they feel just fantastic!
The Prophet closes the service, and the congregation rises and greets each other once more, and approach their prophet to thank and praise him. He smiles benignly and gives each a little bow before sending them on their way feeling, if possible, even better about themselves and the coming week than before.
After the last one leaves, Packington's smile turns decidedly more sinister. He will reward them all when they have popped enough to send him home. He just hasn't decided if he'll reward them with joy, or with fire.