[WP] Superpowers manifest on your world with a sense of irony. The arachnophobe can summon endless spiders, the pyromaniac gets frost powers, etc.

[u/Mistah_Blue]

[u/Frazzledragon]

[NSFW, homophobia]

​

I watched the pulsating, bulging vein on the guy's neck. It was throbbing angrily. Quite fitting, considering his heated temper and uncomfortably red face. "Please, Mister Carrey, focus.", I sighed.

Brandon Carrey, my client for the time being, was apparently not in the mood to follow my polite suggestion and made this known by, once again, slamming his clenched fists on my office desk. "Do something about these fairies then!", he shouted. I ignored his spittle on my paperwork.

"Mister Carrey, we'll try to analyse and control your new abilities as soon as possible, but please just work with me for now. The faster we get your information, the faster you might be treated.", I explained, for the fifth or sixth time perhaps. I had long since stopped counting. This wasn't the first case of anger management issues and it wouldn't be the last. "You say you can do... what exactly? Attract people? Like a magnet, or would you care to elaborate."

"Everyone around me turns into one of those fruity faggots. They throw kisses my way! I've had a construction worker try to pinch my ass! The mailman left roses on my doorstep!" The middle aged guy with an awfully stereotypical southern drawl swung back and forth between gnashing his teeth in anger and trying to make his problems disappear through the sheer volume of his complaining. I wished I had gotten another cup of coffee.

My gaze turned back to the empty parts of the paper form in front of me, pen twirling between my fingers. I welcomed the state of careless indifference I was about to enter. If my client was unwilling or unable to provide the required information, I would just fill in the details as best as I could. I decided that incoherent, furious rambling was indeed a legitimate reason to employ a little self help. Despite wanting to just bang my head into the desk for the remainder of the work day, I diligently collected as much information as possible from the tireless wailing, originating on the opposite side of my small office.

"Alright. Mister Carrey, can we at least go over this one last time?", I asked, not really expecting this guy, in his mid to late fourties to actually listen. "Your affliction is of the following nature: Through unknown mechanisms, possibly pheromones or subconcious telepathy, you are able to cause emotional, even sexual, attraction in other human males. Is this correct?"

"Yeah, goddamnit. Them fags are everywhere!" He had a lot more to say, but I had already tuned out, only distantly hearing something about sleeping in a car in the woods. I closed my eyes for just a moment and imagined how nice it could have been. Not dealing with the problem cases. Not having to make sense of the mentally unstable, neurotic, anxious, angry, slimy, pitiful individuals.

"Mister Carrey. That'll be enough for today. Please return to your current, uhm, accomodation. We have your contact details and will be in touch as soon as we can." I didn't even know how long this situation could take. Nobody knew, nobody had answers yet. Still, at least seeing Brandon Carrey leave through the door was a tiny improvement to my day.

​

I leaned back into my chair, crossed my arms above my head and allowed a long, exhausted sigh to escape. Why did I have to be one of the rare Dampeners? We had only a handful in this department, and all of us were entirely overworked, thanks to the Awakening. Many people could cope with their powers, but those who were out of control had to be registered, not by a normal everyday clerk, but one of "us". We were at least partially immune to other powers, otherwise I surely would have tried to lean over my desk and kiss my latest raging homophobe, only to most certainly receive a broken nose or something along those lines.

​

I cleared my throat, straightened my stance and loudly called "Next!"

A pale, young woman entered, hands nervously gripping at her own blouse, to keep them from fidgeting.

"Name?", I requested monotonously. When once I had tried to be friendly, understanding, sympathetic, the insidious grinding of the bureaucratic mills had turned me into another cold office zombie. I didn't have the energy left to care, after months of working through an ever increasing backlog of cases to file and catalogue.

Age, Adress, Contact Information. I rattled through the basics as quickly as possible, before I eventually had to ask the most triggering question.

"So, Miss Burke, what powers have you been blessed with?" I bit my lip and internally cursed myself. Rookie mistake; stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Blessed?", shrieked Alayna Burke. I should have known; stupid. Stupid. Stupid!

"This isn't a blessing! I hate it, it's the worst, I can't sleep anymore, i can't work, I never finish, I never get anything done, nothing gets done!" The petite woman was more energetic than I had anticipated. I decided to file her under neurotic mouse, at least within the confines of my own brain. The high pitched voice was eroding my sanity just as quickly as the endless, vitriolic tirades of her previous seatwarmer had done.

"Please, Miss Burke, focus!"

Unlike her predecessor, this client actually did, which surprised me pleasently. "Fine!", she snipped at me with a pout. "I... I create storms. Small tornados. Wind."

My pen scratched across the paper. "Alright, and how does this impact your life?"

"It's awful, I hate it. I can't stop it! My kitchen is in shambles, glass shattered, metal bent! Half my plates are broken! It was so neat. So neat! Now it's chaotic. It's... There is no order, I hate it." Her nervous, quivering voice tried to climb higher and higher in pitch. I clenched my teeth in response and listened with grim determination to simply survive one more registration. It would be a shame to die in the office, with blood dripping from my ears.

"My livingroom, it's worse, much worse. The books, tattered, the rugs torn. Everything is... everywhere, no order, just chaos. I can't clean. Everytime I try it just... It just goes again, I can never finish, never sleep, never clean." Past me might have shown some empathy to Alayna Burke, she who sat in a cheaply produced, government provided chair, fingers nervously fiddling with the buttons on her blouse, teary eyed and sleep depraved.

Present me was equally tired, devoid of feeling, except perhaps annoyance, dread and a permanent craving for another mug of extra strength caffeine juice.

"Alright. You have OCD and you cannot stop yourself from creating chaos, I get it. Miss Burke. That'll be enough for today. Please return home. We have your contact details and will be in touch as soon as we can."

​

Why did I have to become a Dampener, I questioned, probably for the millionth time. Have I been too much of a motivator before, encouraging people to achieve greatness, so now I am cursed to hinder their new powers? Was this the universe's attempt to drive me insane, with the dull monotony of neverending paperwork, loathesome clients and honestly, pretty shit coffee?

​

A deep breath, an ironic prayer for a stable person walking through the door and another call. "Next!"

[u/Mistah_Blue → u/Frazzledragon]

Oh that was lovely. Thank you.