《Lord of the Amogi》


 Its a Bubble

    October 24, 1929, Black Thursday


    The sun was shining, spreading its irritable rays everywhere.


    "Damn, it sucks not being able to blame someone else", a young man yells lividly, kicking a nearby trash can to frighten the nearby pedestrians.


    The pedestrians avoid him, and some even sympathize with him. It''s a bad day for everyone.


    One kick, two kicks, three kicks. The sound of light metal clamping is satisfying to his ears, and the man gradually feels more jittery and confident. The silver trash can slightly bends.


    Nine kicks, ten kicks.The kicking finally stops as the young man gradually realizes that he isn''t doing anything useful.


    At this time, any other man would feel only regret for blundering their money, but not this man. As a stock broker, Timmothy DeMarco had a very direct relationship to the stock market crashing. He himself lent out as much as $70,000 to investors and contributed to the bursting of the bubble.


    Of course, as a man born poor, seeking blame just means one thing: complaining and seeking compensation.


    "F*ck, why involve me?", Timmothy yells hypocritically and egotistically to a group of random people.


    I''m in a $20,000 debt. I would rather die than pay it off.


    b..but I don''t want my life to mean nothing.


    Timmothy continues to stare blankly at the road, making others subconsciously avoid him.


    I''ll just commit suicide in the most jarring way possible. Maybe someone would donate to my mother out of pity.


    After deciding on committing suicide, Timmothy calls a taxi and rides to his own apartment nearby. He grabs the necessary materials. After locking the familiar and slightly polished wooden door, he sits at a table and starts to write.


    "Dear mother,


    I''ve never loved you, but as a gentleman I should at least repay you for being an burden, and a very hungry one at that. I haven''t paid my debt yet but I''m giving you the rest of my money; I hope you know what that means. I know you love our home, but please consider moving to Spain or England to escape debt collectors. If you still love me at all try getting my sister a pair of new shoes, I remember her bugging me the last time I visited"You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    After finishing, Timmothy realizes that the paper he''s written on had been doused in tears, making it hard to read.


    "F*ck, ruined the vibe", Timmothy says to himself coldly.


    He crumbles the paper and starts to write again.


    . . .


    Not trusting anyone to do the job, Timmothy walks to the post office himself.


    The sky is darkening, and the originally brunette concrete roads start to dim.


    Pale and colorless, Timmothy hurriedly stuffed his bulging envelope into a murky mailbox and see it getting engulfed by an unfathomable darkness.


    Timmothy walks off hurriedly, his eyes never leaving the ground.


    The originally impressive nightline seems nothing but lackluster now.


    Subconsciously, he walks to a building that has always somewhat amazed him.


    It was a bastardized version of Rennaissance architecture, a tower that stood upon an originally oblivious rectangle. Yet precisely because of this box could it overshadow all buildings around it by sheer size.


    It''s name? "Singer Building".


    Walking in, a well dressed man in a suit tie shouts assertively "Sir, you can''t be in here. "


    Timmothy ignores him.


    When he starts to chase Timmothy, Timmothy suddenly pulls out a gun and shoots towards the ground without hesitation.


    Then, ignoring the shrapnel and concrete that grazed his legs, he continues climbing the tower. Upon reaching the top, he stares at the city, absorbing the weird mixture of self-possession and insignificance. Then, like a fish in water, he starts to sing,"


    Do du du Daa dee da due,


    Do de Due!


    Do Due,


    Do du Due Daa Dee Due Daa,


    Daa Dee Due Daa Dee Due due.


    "


    Upon completion, the world is entirely silent. The cars have all stopped moving and everyone except for him felt insignificant, as if they had seen their worst fears.


    One step, two steps,... The song he sung made him feel extremely confident.Three steps, four steps, free fall.


    But just as Timmothy thought he was going to finally fall, he saw an inviolable light rushing towards him. Shocked beyond words, he shouts "Jesus", and as he loses consciousness, he hears a squeaky voice say jokingly "Among usstock brokers this is quite a considerate move. Don'' look at me like that, I''ve got no way no money for a taxi ride"


    . . .


    And just like that, Timmothy was reincarnated as an amogi inside a bubble.


    ________________________________________________________


    According to unofficial official amogus lore, bubbles are where amogi are born


    Singer Building is an actual building according to wikipedia, having the world record for tallest building from 1908 to 1909. It was demolished in 1969 to make way for newer buildings


    ________________________________________________________


    Hey guys, author here. I''m a total newbie at writing and I wanna know your opinions on my work. I copied a lot from other works. For example, my second sentence copied the vibe of the funeral scene in the early chapters of "Mages are too OP" and you could probably guess where the inner monologue was copied from. Personally, I felt that my first chapter deviated too much from among us and wrote a lot about our MC even though his past experiences aren''t (might not be) relevant to the rest of the story. Pls tell me a general direction to improve or any specific sentence or paragraph I should remove.

 The amogi factory

    Planet Gussu, Amogi producing factory. The cranking of a machine could be heard.  A somewhat unscientific and transparent sphere finds itself on the production line. One could see a blue creature in the middle.


    After finding an opportunity to do so, the transparent ball rolls itself off to the conveyer belt. The elastic ball deforms itself into the ground, then returns to its original state, rolling into a corner. Luckily, none of the workers see it. There are no workers in this factory.


    After the ball stopped, it split apart and released some steam into the air. A very small creature came out from the fog.


    "What the hell happened?", Timmothy asks out loud to absolutely no one.


    I got into this weird dream where I had to choose a color and a name. The colors were nothing much, but the default name examples were extremely bizarre, like "inspector" , "big chungus" , "red teletubby "and whatnot. They mean nicknames, right?


    After I chose a name, I found myself waking up in this ball made out of something.


    Wait a second why is everything so big here?


    Stumbling for a bit, he finds himself to a nearby door to leave this uncanny place.


    Upon reaching the steel door, Timmothy hesitates for a little. He looks back at the production line, to see hundreds of the same transparent balls with small creatures inside.


    Are these all sentient lifeforms?


    After feeling a little disgusted, terrified, and fascinated at the same time, Timmothy finally faces the door.


    Uhhhhhh


    There isn''t a doorknob


    Wait a f*ing second.


    I have no hands.


    The door opens by itself, but Timmothy doesn''t enter the frame. He tries to jerk his head back, only to realize that he could only control the direction his legs are moving.


    T..this...


    I''m one of them?!?


    I..I''m a human!!!


    Because of the inactivity, the door closes itself again, but Timmothy doesn''t notice it.


    How did everything get here? Creatures without hands can''t make any of these! Have I transmigrated into the future where humans have gone extinct?  Are we livestock for some sort of advanced civilization? Is this an advanced species that has mastered their own life to such a degree that they only need feet and a body?  Am I an advanced species that has mastered my own life to such a degree that I only need feet and a body?Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Timmothy could only deduce these facts based on the current predicament he''s in. He fakes a hunger to relieve his stress, only to find that he doesn''t have a mouth.


    With little hope left, Timmothy peeks between his own legs, only to feel extremely underwhelmed.


    Can I turn back?


    Hesitating for a moment, he finally decides to leave the factory. He needs more information on this world in order to return to his previous civilization. Restrained by his own body, he moves himself in circles before the doors finally opens again.


    Upon opening, a blinding sun assaults Timmothy''s eyes.


    . . .


    Despite being in the middle of the day and without clouds, there is still snow falling from the sky. This miracle only made Timmothy more intimidated as he once again confirmed the peculiarity of his situation.


    Walking not a few seconds on a concrete road, he finds a man triple the size of him. Above him are the glaring words "imp_ouster" in pure white.


    "Hi", Timmothy says awkwardly.


    What if he doesn''t know English?


    Imp_ouster glances at him.


    "Hi", Timmothy replies in all seriousness.


    Hesitating for a moment, Imp_ouster finally says "Sup".


    Thank god, speaking to this guy is so intimidating.


    "Ya'' speak english?" Timmothy says, a little surprised.


    Looking at the little amogi in front of him, Imp_ouster finally lets out a little laugh. "Nice roleplay lmao"


    "Roleplay? what''s that?" Timmothy asks, eager to find more information about the world he''s in.


    Upon hearing this, Imp_ouster put on a questioning look, as if he was a devil tempting a little kid. He walks to the side of the road, leaning on a lamp post.


    "Roleplaying, uhh... It''s a fine art." Imp_ouster crafted his words carefully and ambiguously. Then, he said under his breath "especially when women do it."


    "Are there genders in this world?" Timmothy asked, even more confused than ever.


    Unable to tell if Timmothy is a troll, Imp_ouster says briefly "yeah."


    "What''s the difference?" Timmothy asks after some deliberation. There were no special organs in his body to distinguish his gender.


    "None, I just hate them lol" Imp_ouster says triumphantly, as if he had won a wrestling match with a little kid.


    "Lol" and "Lmao" must be special terminology of this advanced civilization! Timmothy finally realized.


    "What''s ''lol'', ''lmao''?" Timmothy asks.


    "lmao, lol. bruh this kid" Imp_ouster says with confidence.


    Sensing the hostility, Timmothy only asks "What''s ''lol'', ''bruh''?"


    Imposter finally stops laughing and he says "Bruh, I thought you were roleplaying. You really don''t know what "lol" and "bruh" are?"


    "Yes," Timmothy answers timidly. He had lost all his cool when a man three times his size is in front of him.


    "Oof, must be hard knowing only how to speak cowboy. Do some schools even teach old english?" the large man asks in a demanding tone.


    O..old english! He just said that the english I use is old! So I''m right! I''m in the future and there are still humans around!


    "You know if there are any creatures with arms round'' this place?" Timmothy asks excitedly.


    Imp_ouster''s expression turned grave. "You aren''t supposed to learn this yet"


    "You have to be an adult crewmate in order to know this," he continues. "but I guess I''ll say it. There is a parasite that can completely control an amogi. They are extremely smart and could blend easily with us. Then, they proceed to kill us in the most gruesome ways. Only they could grow arms, and they use that to kill us. We call them imposters."


    How scary! How can such a parasite exist in this world?


    Timmothy takes two steps back and he says carefully "Wait! The thing above your head! It says you''re an imposter!"


    Imp_ouster sneers. He says sarcastically, "Yeah, and the thing above your head says you''re tim_the_butcher, so are you a butcher?"


    Watching the large man leave, Timmothy looks up at the glorious light coming from the lamp post.


    What noble people. Getting slaughtered helplessly by cunning creatures and yet having such a carefree attitude towards their killers.


    He leans on the lamp post himself, trying to light a cigarette to lighten the mood, only to realize that he has neither hands or pockets.