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[WP] You have the ability to see through man-made objects and only man-made objects. You don’t like unintentionally spying on people but you can’t turn it off. You are walking around and then you spot something. It seems to be a room, and you can’t see into it.
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"\"Having x-ray vision sucks. My parents learned pretty early on that I was \"special\" - a lot of kids my generation were developing \"superpowers\" and governments were doing \"testing\" and blah blah blah.\n\nTruth is, I hate it. I can't see man-made things. Of any kind. As a result, I've been living in the woods, au naturale. My parents would tell me stories about buildings that would scrape the sky, about machines that soared even further above them. They would tell me about the chocolate bars and mini \"plastic\" shovels and ice cream and... yeah, I don't know what I'm talking about either. But see, things started to get weird for me a while back, which led me to this place.\n\nI was stalking a rabbit through the trees near my hole, when I noticed a particularly strange tree. It was large and flat on 4 sides, and only about half a tree tall - maybe twice my height. It was brown like the trees, but the sides were rocky and had strange lines of stuff between them. I had never seen anything like it.\n\nI brought mom over to show her since it matched the descriptions of some of those \"building\" things she always talked about, but she couldn't seem to see it, just like I couldn't see her buildings. She told me to stay away and banned me from going to that part of the forest. She told Dad about it and he said he would call his friend (I think he has telepathy, he always puts his hand to his head when he talks to his friends), and they would investigate it in the morning. Well, I couldn't wait. I got up in the middle of the night \"to pee\" and took off towards my \"castle\".\n\nWhen I got back to the strange tree, I noticed something different - it looked like a hole had appeared in the side of it. My eyes were pretty good at night so I didn't need to bring any fire with me (best not to anyways, I guess setting a stick on fire is called a \"torch\" and all I can see is the light it gives off. Pretty dangerous to lose fire like that). I went inside and... nothing. The entire inside was bare; all the sides were flat, but also the ground and the top. Completely bare. It was so strange that I couldn't help but sit in the middle and stare.\n\nI don't know how long I sat there for, but I was surprised when the ground started to growl. It was like an angry wolf, really quiet and muffled, but quickly got louder and shakier until it was like a constant thunder shaking the ground. It was too late when I realised that the sides were getting taller and I couldn't jump up to the hole. I got pretty scared after that.\"\n\nI massage my feet, giving pause to let the creature sitting across from me soak up the doom I was putting into my story. Something of a cross between me and a red fox, they were like a human with a light sheen of fur, ears and a tail. I guess they had started to become more common in the cities, but this was the first time I had seen one.\n\n\"Anyways, the walls grew really tall for a while, until, BOOM! The walls stopped growing and the ground shook so hard I fell down again. Then, another hole appeared in the side and these people came in. I had never seen anyone so white before, the white parts seemed to be almost separate from their actual bodies but that's crazy. They put something invisible on me and next thing I know, I'm here!\"\n\nMy new friend curled up even tighter into a ball into the corner he was in. He almost seemed... scared? But that's crazy, the only thing there was to be scared of in these woods were the wolves, and even those seemed understanding when you talked to them. The person whimpered, and the side of the place I was in (I guess it's a wall? One of the weird white people said so when they got annoyed at my asking how they opened the holes) opened up again. Another white person came in, put something I couldn't see on my face, and back into the darkness I fell. \n\n\n \nFeel free to follow me on /r/PM_Full_Tits \n",
"The street is empty. It's early evening, trees sway gently around you. But there is no other life. Not cars, not conversations, not even a bird in the sky. The place called home at the end of the street is the only place you feel comfortable peering out from. It's a solace.\n\nThe loneliness was nice.\n\nBut tonight, your house is not visible. The exterior is, but the interior is blocked out. The bizarre thing is, you can see your elderly neighbour laying in bed watching television, like normal. And the other family eating at the table. But not your house. \n\nThat's odd. Your feet take you nervously to the porch. Trying the handle after inserting your key, a wave of relief washes over you. Stepping inside, everything is the same. Just as you left it. But you cannot see outside. You can't see beyond the walls. You test it once more by stepping back out. You can still see past other walls. You were so unsure, unrest fills your soul. Stepping inside again, you lock the door and head for your room seeing nothing but what you have already committed to memory.\n\nThe loneliness was terrifying."
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I'm trying to explore the idea of magic existing within the constraints of science
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[WP] You wake up with magic powers, you can create anything. But this matter, being neither created or destroyed, must come from somewhere.
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"I stand in front of the filthy water as the village’s inhabitants surround me, looking simultaneously weary and hopeful. They talk in a language I don’t understand more than a couple words of but all the noise fades out when I reach for that strange, warm energy I could feel shifting through me and twisting around my limbs almost playfully. I raise my hands and the water rises then starts to twist and writhe unnaturally, growing and shrinking as it’s very chemical makeup was impossibly altered. \n\nWhen the movements calmed down I lowered my hands and the water went down with them. One man, who seemed to be one of the poorest based on his clothes, was pushed towards the water by his fellow villagers. He sends a fearful look my way before carefully creeping around me to the water. When he’s at the waters edge he kneels down to inspect it, still sending me frequent glances. He dips his trembling hands in the water and after a moments hesitation, brings his cupped hands to his mouth. His face brightens as he drinks the now clean water and after a tense moment where the rest of the villagers watch him to see if he suddenly dies, they go to the water too. \n\nThere’s both tears and shouts of excitement from the villagers as they drink clean water for the first time in a long time. The energy in me uncoils from my limbs and flows all throughout my body before settling in my head. I know from experience that this has changed my eyes into the molten gold color that comes to mind when I think of the energy inside me and has sent my long hair waving in every direction as though it was caught in dozens of different breezes simultaneously. At this the villagers gazes don’t lose their fear but do gain an edge of reverence. I know that these people likely think me a goddess who descended just to help them, just as the villages before had. With this warm power in my head and in my eyes, I wonder if perhaps they’re right. All other explanations of my abilities are similarly mystic, this one isn’t that far out there when compared to some of the others. \n\nWith my work done I step into my vehicle. That’s really the only word that can fit it, because just like my powers it doesn’t make much sense. When these powers were new and I could barley restrain them, I had wanted with all my heart to just be able to get away. A nearby dumpster and all the litter even remotely close to me had distorted and collected around me, creating this strange thing. It can fly like a plane, drive like a car and can sail through water like a boat but had a strange, circular design that seemed like it shouldn’t be capable of any of those things, let alone all of them. \n\nI take off into the air with no noise or build up, just rising straight up. I grab my map, wondering what place I haven’t already gone to that needs clean water. A quick glance to the back where I keep my supplies has me looking for a place that also has plenty of litter that I could transmute into food. "
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[WP] You are stuck in a life or death situation where the only thing that determines whether you live or not is one question. "Where is the Iberian Peninsula?"
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"\"Ummmmm...\" I know this. I bloody well know this. Of all the times for my brain to freeze, this is the _worst_ one.\n\nI've always been a fan of quiz shows. _Who Wants To Be A Millionaire_ with Chris Tarrant as a kid, right up to _Tipping Point_ and _The Chase_ as an adult. Questions about this place have surely come up at some point in my 30 years of life. They have to have done.\n\nI close my eyes and bite my lip. Trying to ignore the gun pressed against my head and the handcuffs tight around my wrists.\n\nGun. That makes me think of something. Green jackets, Yorkshire and Irish accents. Sean Bean? Sharpe? Something to do with his adventures?\n\nThink, girl, think. Where did Sharpe fight? Not India, the TV series didn't start there. He wasn't a green jacket, didn't have Harper.\n\nI start to hum, hearing Hagman's voice in my memory.\n\n_‘Here's forty shillings on the drum_ \n_To those who volunteer to come,_ \n_To 'list and fight the foe today_ \n_Over the Hills and far away._ ’\n\nThe gun pushes against my head impatiently as I try to remember the chorus of the series' closing theme.\n\n_‘O'er the hills and o'er the main_ \n_Through Flanders, Portugal and Spain._ \n_King George commands and we obey_ \n_Over the hills and far away._ ’\n\nPortugal and Spain! That's it!\n\n\"It's the bit that sticks out of the south...err...west corner of the European continent. Spain takes up most of it, with Portugal down the west side and Gibraltar on the bottom somewhere.\"\n\nI say in relief as the gun is pulled away from my head. Rough hands remove the handcuffs from my wrists. I rub the life back into them as my abductor walks away. The door doesn't close behind him.\n\nI think I'll wait a few minutes. Let him get far enough away. I really don't want to bump into him again."
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[WP] A woman discovers her love for writing prompts. She begins writing every day. Eventually her 9 yo daughter begins writing with her. They work together on story after story. They begin writing an autobiography. Then one day the woman wakes up and realizes she never had any children.
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"Thirty five. It took thirty five query letters before I found an agent to represent me. Now, in the grand scheme of things, this is actually pretty reasonable. Macy, my novelist friend I met online, submitted 127 before she got a response for her first book. So in that way I'm lucky. But today I realized I'm in over my head. \n\n​\n\nLet me back up.\n\n​\n\nI wrote the book. I queried thirty five agents. Number thirty five (his name is Anthony), liked the autobiographical nature, the mother/daughter dynamic, and the actual story I told. So he agreed to represent me. Over the next six months, we edited, we polished, we emailed back and forth. Finally we hit a lucky break. A new author from the New York City publishing scene hit it big, and it was written by-get this-a father/son writing team. So a bunch of publishing companies immediately jumped on (created?) the parent/child team trend. \n\n​\n\nMy book was sold. I finalized the contract, cashed the check, quit my day job, and started planning the book tour. The first six stops were easy peesy. Nobody showed up because nobody knew me, I signed a few copies for bored book store patrons. It was very low pressure. But then things changed. My book being part of a \"wave\" of parent/child authors, the internet started to look into me. It became clear that I wasn't traveling with my daughter, like all the other parents did.\n\n​\n\nThe general assumption was that I was lying. That my daughter hadn't helped me write anything, and I was just trend-riding. The crazier fringes got closer to the truth, assuming that I had killed my daughter, or that she never existed in the first place.\n\n​\n\nThe truth is, of course much stranger. \n\n​"
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[WP] The village idiot likes to sing with his head underwater to "sing to the mermaids". The village ridicules him for it. One day, the village idiot is swept out in a riptide, and no one is willing to come to his aid—no one from the village, that is.
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"Nobody was surprised when the ocean reached out and swept Gregor under. After all, it had been a windy day, and the man was a certifiable dolt. That's what you get for singing to the \"mermaids\", right? All the villagers stood and gawked for a moment, but everyone knew that Gregor couldn't swim. That was that, they supposed. Nobody wanted to be an asshole, but \"good riddance\" was the first thought on the minds of the majority.\n\nIn the meantime, Gregor was having the most fun of his life. The water pulled him around in circles, deeper in deeper, while he sang his song to the creatures he knew were out there. Even as the last few breaths left his body, he still kept trying to sing to the mermaids. They would want him to sing, that's what the ocean had whispered to him. But he had no more breath, even though he had plenty more song, and so his vision dimmed and he slowly slipped towards the bottom of the ocean floor to the sight of three very long fishes with human faces swimming towards him.\n\nThe night of Gregor's funeral was unremarkable. Since the man had no family, and since nobody particularly felt like paying for something expensive, the villagers decided to burn a pyre on the beach at sunset. Poignant, but also masterfully minimal, perhaps the best way to take care of such a distasteful obligation. Prayers were mumbled, the pyre halfheartedly lit, and all turned to go back to the village, when suddenly Gregor came shooting out of the water, landed in a tree, bounced off a branch, and fell to the ground unconscious.\n\n\"A miracle!\" cried the priest. \"Godammit he's back!\" cried the village headsman. \"I want an apple!\" cried young Harold, who foolishly hadn't eaten dinner yet. The priest ran to Gregor and propped him up only to find a large pouch dangling from his neck. In it were five lustrous pearls and a note scratched on a dried-out sheet of algae. \"Dear villagers\", the priest read aloud, \"this guy's singing is terrible. Worse than terrible. Atrocious. But at least he has the kindness to sing. Please use these pearls to pay for his singing lessons and send him back to us in five years or we'll raze the village and burn your sorry souls to the ground. Much love, your mermaid friends.\"\n\nThe first thing Gregor saw when we awoke was the priest, the headman, and young Harold all passing out from the shock, and he knew everything would be just fine. "
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[WP] Sometimes, you get glimpses of the future. If you act quickly enough, you can change these events. Today, you saw a vision that your best friend would die in a freak car accident. You must save them, but there's just one problem - you are a dog, and your best friend is your owner.
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"I walk to my car, thinking about the day ahead. I have a lead for a new story and, if I succeed, I could get a promotion. I unlock the car and step inside when my small brown-furred dog runs out of the house. \n\nHe had done this a lot and each time I had had to stop and calm him down. Strangely, each time I had done so, I had avoided something, like an angry boss or, in one particular case, a shooting in a restaurant. It was almost as if...as if...no, that was plain stupid. I shake this thought from my head and continue.\n\nI think that he just misses me, yapping and barking like mad. I can’t carry on bending to his will, I have to teach him to leave me alone. I ignore him and drive ahead. Strange. He’s running with the car. I never expected this. I drive ahead regardless.\n\nI can’t see him now, he’s probably gone home. I forget it and think about the story. A government scandal including a popular MP...this would make the front page.\n\nMy heart stops. I am going high above the speed limit, eager to start work. In front of my car, I see none other...than my own dog. Missing a heartbeat, I quickly steer to the right and crash Ito the trees. It is at this fateful moment that I realise that I had forgotten my seatbelt. On impact, I fly through the window and hit a tree trunk with my head.\n\nOn the road, the dog barked in distress at the bloody mess of what was once his owner, knowing that he was the cause, knowing that he could have stopped it. ",
"Light and loud noise, blood and pain, crying sounds... My best friend is hurt on the street. I try to get to her, she’s sprawled on the smooth black. Everything around me is making loud noise, someone is yelling for help, there's a monster! I push toward my friend's familiar hands, her face, but I can’t get to her. Something is stopping me. I push forward to paw at her hand, frantic. Her mouth is moving, but there are no sounds, just blood. I close my eyes to bark an alarm and when I open them, I am safe and warm again, a hand smoothing the hair around my ears, “It’s just a bad dream, Nugget, everything’s okay.” my friend murmurs and laughs. She always laughs at my sleeping, but I don’t know why. I know she sleeps, too - I’ve seen her do it! I wonder if she dreams, if it makes her worried.\n\n\nThe glimpse I’ve seen has frightened me and I’m afraid my friend is scared, too. I sit up in her lap and give her chin a lick. I wonder if she’s able to understand or see my dream. Communication with her is very confusing, and I’m not sure what she knows or how she does. Still, sometimes she can tell what I need or what I’m thinking, while other times it seems she can’t understand me at all. I look her gravely in the eye, trying to determine how much she was able to figure out while I was asleep. She just smiles and asks her eternal question.\n\n\n“Who’s a good girl?” \n\n\nI don’t know the answer to her riddle and this rattles me. I’ve just had a terrible dream and I’m only half awake, why ask me this now? I begin to quiver, unsure, and put a paw on her chest, the other held close to my own. \n\n\n“It’s you!” she proclaims, kissing my forehead, “You’re a good girl!” I relax a bit, appreciating this quick answer from her. At least I don’t have to worry about being bad as well as my dream. My dream - I’d almost forgotten! I bark and lick her chin again, pushing upward from her crossed legs and licking her face as urgently as possible. I gently place my teeth on her nose to make sure she’s listening. Pay attention, friend, please! “Oh, don’t eat my nose!” she teases. This is not the time, friend. I’m not eating your nose, I’m trying to talk to you. She’s mentioned eating, though, and food is good. Should I ask for food?\n\n\nNo! Another distraction! It’s like she doesn’t even want my help. No, this time she has to understand. This is important. I huff and shake my head impatiently, then nip her nose again. “Oh, I see, I have a delicious nose. Thank you.” She shifts her weight under me and lifts me up, setting me to her side on the couch. No! She does this when she is leaving, but when she leaves, she walks on the street! I squirm back into her lap, dodging the arm she blocks me with. She is not getting away that easily. I’m small and quick, so I manage to get back in her lap. I know what I saw, I know what I have to keep from happening!\n\n\nI roll onto my back, my indignity a last resort. I tilt my head the way that makes her happy and let myself smile through the nervousness. My tongue slips out through the gaps in my back teeth and she laughs. “What a silly girl, you want belly rubs? Okay, just a couple minutes!” She lowers a hand to my tummy, and… Ah... I struggle to keep my wits about me. Belly rubs are amazing and so distracting, but I stay focused!\n\n\nShe looks at her wrist collar and her eyes get big. She says a word I don’t know. I wonder what it means. Our other friend comes out of the private things room, and she says quickly - in her worried voice - “I’m so sorry, babe, I don’t have time to walk. Could you drop me off at work?” He sighs and they talk to one another, but I stop paying attention. They make noise like this at one another a lot, pointless sounds. When it gets loud it makes me nervous, but otherwise I tune them out when they're like this.\n\n\nSuddenly, I see movement through the window. As she moves me back off of her lap and stands up, I stare only at the street outside. The monster from my dream, it’s there! It’s moving so fast, running down the street!\n\n\nAnother friend, from across the black, walks toward it and almost steps onto the dark stretch of street. There is the loud sound from my dream and he jumps backward, yelling his own noises in response. I bark and scratch at the window, all self control abandoned. Is he alright? I glance at my best friend, who is craning to see out the window. “Idiot.” she mutters, turning her attention back to our other friend as they both prepare to leave. I shift nervously and whine. Neither of them has even said goodbye!\n\n\nBoth of my closest friends turn around and smile. “Oh, who’s the best girl?” my best friend asks, crouching down in front of the couch so her eyes are level with mine. I know the answer this time, because I saved her.\n\n\n“It’s me!” I yell back, letting the sound bounce me up and down. She grins and laughs again, rubs my head and kisses my forehead.\n\n\n“You’re the best girl, always.” she whispers, before she stands and turns to go. She and I both know that I’ll keep home and couch safe. I turn in a quick circle as my friends head out, then snuggle down into my favorite blanket. My eyelids are heavy now. I let them close slowly, not fighting sleep.\n\n\nIt’s been such a busy day already, I really do deserve a rest.",
"Woof woof woof woof!\n\nWoof!\n\nPaul looked at me, confused, but he couldn’t tell what was wrong.\n\nI had seen the immediate future, and I tried to convey what I saw as best as a I could. A car shooting around the blind corner and over the curb Paul was standing on. A drunk driver, going way too fast. Only 30 seconds left.\n\nWoof woof!! Wooff!\n\nI started to panic, my eyes tearing up with overwhelming fear. I could already hear the car given that my sense of hearing was better than humans. But even though I had been with Paul for 9 years, Paul could not understand me, for I was only a dog.\n\nPaul bent down on the curb and tried to comfort me. He tried to give me my favourite head rub while saying “It’s alright boy, everything is ok, I’ll take you home soon and we can play catch”\n\nToo late. \n\nThere was only one thing to do.\n\nI knew the car was coming round the bend, so I ran my fastest and as far as I could towards the car.\n\nHonking. Tyres screeching as the car swerved. For one last time, I had changed the course of history.\n\nIn the brief moment before the car hit me, I saw Paul one last time, a look of horror on his face.\n\nI said in my heart, thank you for the good life old friend. And everything faded to black.",
"I fell asleep that night beside my human. It was my job to protect them. They had saved me when I was just a puppy. Cold and alone, still shaken from being thrown out of a moving car. I had not eaten in a few days. I was sad, I thought no one would love me. Not until my best friend, my human came along. I had a dream the night before that a human would take me home, feed me, and hide me from their parents. Their parents didn't want me. They thought I would be mean and vicious. All because I barked at this one older kid for bullying my best friend. They tried to get rid of me while my human was at school, but my human ran away and found me again. Right where they had found me the first time. I love my best friend.\n\nI awoke from a bad dream. My human was on the bus to school. They were talking about the cartoon that they were watching that morning. A big truck came along and hit the bus, right where my best friend was sitting. I was anxious, so I went to check on my owner. \n\nOhh no! they were watching the same cartoon! I didn't have much time before they would get dressed and go wait for the bus. I did not have much time! My first plan was simple. If I lay on their lap, Surely they can't get up. If they can't get up, they can't get dressed. If they can't get dressed, they can't get on the bus! The cartoon had just ended \"Next time on the adventures of captain speedster.\"\n\nMy human tries to get up, but I wouldn't let them. \"Speedy, what are you doing boy? I have to get dressed soon or my parents are going to get mad at me.\" My best friend struggled to get up, but I wouldn't move. Eventually their mother came in and pushed me off my humans lap. \"Get up and get dressed! If you are late for school, I am going to miss work!\" I called her the loud one. If she said anything, she would always say it loudly like that. I didn't like her but my human did as she said.\n\nDrats! my plan was stopped. My human was changing their clothes and I had very little time to stop them. I know! If I lay in front of the door, they can't open it. If they can't open it, they can't leave! I went and laid in front of the door for five minutes before I saw my human, my best friend.\" I am going to save you no matter what!\" was all I could think at the time.\n\nAs my human walked up to me, I put all of my weight against the door. This was it, the moment of truth. I started to whimper, trying to grab their attention. \"What's wrong speedy, need to go potty?\" I wouldn't budge, I wouldn't get up or stop whimpering. \"Come on speedy, do you have to go potty? I need to go to school.\" After about ten seconds, my human said \"Stay\" Oooh! I know this one! They don't want me to move from this spot, they know I am trying to protect them!\n\nMy heart sank when the door open up behind me, swinging the opposite direction. My human stepped over me and was about to close the door. I had to act as fast as I could! I had one idea, but it was my last option. \n\nWhen my human saved me, I had this friend next door named Hank. Hank and I would play games for hours and hours. Who could bark the loudest, who was the fastest, who could find the best stick. Hanks best friend and my best friend were even each others best friends. How cool was that! Hank was getting old though. His human went to give him a hug, and he bit them. He bit his best friend. He started shouting \"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you scared me!\" but the human wouldn't listen. They sat there and cried until their parents came into the yard.\n\nThey put a leash on hank and put him in a car. I never saw him again after that. I had a dream that night before. Hank was laying on a cold metal table. They stuck him with a needle as he began to cry. I could see hank slowly loose consciousness. He never got back up. My human held me in my sleep that night, hearing me whimper. \n\nI would have to pull a Hank to save them. As my human got in line for the bus, I chased after them. I said \"I'm sorry!\" then bit down on my humans hand, hard. They started to cry and the other humans were starting to murmur to each other. Before I knew it, I was in the same situation as hank.\n\nOn a ride, to the vet. About to be on the same cold table. About to get the same needle. I laid in the trunk crying softly. I wasn't allowed to sit with my human any more. I could hear the loud one in the front seat \"We never should of allowed that dog in our house! This is long over due!\". We made it to the vet and my human gave me a hug when their parent's weren't looking. My best friend, my savior was crying \"i'll miss you boy.\" I licked their face, trying to clean up the tears. I had did it, they did not get on the bus that day. They had brought me in, got me on that same cold table. Just as I felt the needle pierce my skin, I had one last glimpse. My human was older. In college, getting a degree. Then they were getting married. Then they had humans of their own. The final thing I saw before I fell asleep, was them old and in a bed. shutting their eyes for a final time. I had did it. I had saved my best friend.",
"“Duke, get off! What is with you today?” Kevin sidestepped his frantic dog’s violent slobbery pounce. Duke was a 2 year old half-lab and half-unknown (most people guessed cow or moose) that did everything he could to stop Kevin from going to work every morning, but today he seemed more determined than normal. He had already knocked over Kevin’s breakfast, torn his trousers, barked so loudly that Kevin couldn’t hear his alarm (this is a brilliant idea from a dog’s perspective) and now was reduced to lunging at him so he couldn’t reach the door.\n\nKevin normally enjoyed this as part of his routine before work, but not today. He was a software developer, but in the modern blue-collar definition of the word, expected to churn out pages that looked like other pages and apps that behaved like other apps. It was a largely brainless chore and if he didn’t reach his annual appraisal on time, it was a brainless chore he would be doing for another year. His giant dog tried once again to jump into his arms. \n\n“Duke what the fuck?” replied Kevin, now genuinely annoyed. “I’ll be back at six! Just play with your chew toys!”. There were a series of children’s stuffed toys that Duke would either attack or cuddle with. There was no telling when Kevin bought him a toy, whether this would be one that deserved to be attacked or one that would be cuddled. There was no pattern as far as he could see. Duke just seemed to have some intangible sense about some things. \n\nHe finally pried his dog off and left for work. On his way back from work, a car would enter the oncoming lane. To avoid it he would swerve left and hit the railing of the bridge, sending his car straight into the water. Duke knew this and he had tried to tell Kevin all morning, but he had still left for work. Duke was frantic now, he had to strategise. \n\nHe could slip into the garden and jump easily over the fence. He hadn’t done this yet because then Kevin would raise the height of the fence, and he needed this move for an occasion just like this. The second obstacle was that he didn’t know where Kevin worked, the scent of his car merged quite easily with the scent of all cars. He could ask the dog network which way he went and try to follow along in that direction, but he would have to do it quickly, otherwise all the dogs would become preoccupied with something else and completely forget. \n\nDuke ran over the bench as fast as he could, asking the neighbourhood dogs which way Kevin had gone. He ran, tongue swinging, panting, twisting down the streets, with a leash flapping behind him so he wouldn’t look like he was a stray. He looked like the person who had taken him for a walk was jogging behind somewhere. Soon he slowed down to a jog and then stopped. He was mesmerised by powerful smells sounds and lights everywhere he looked. He lost all track of which way he was supposed to be going. Everything was homogeneously exploding. He would never be able to find Kevin’s office this way. He had to try something else. But what? \n\n———————————\n\nKevin was having a shit day to begin with and his appraisal had rained shit on his shit parade. Human resources made a point of asking him to honestly answer his experience of working at the company. But they seemed to be disappointed with both his honesty and his answer. “Well you really don’t pay me enough” he had said and was met with “Yes” as a response. “We don’t pay anyone enough, haven’t you noticed? We don’t get paid enough either.” This was difficult logic to argue with, but it really all lead up to him not being shifted to senior software developer this year, next year seems more likely, you are a valuable asset to the company. \n\nKevin had half a mind to quit, but the other half of his mind could not deal with the energy it would take to find another job. He was fretting and fuming and didn’t notice the idiot who crossed over into his lane to overtake a truck. Not until it was too late. He jammed his brakes, swerved, ploughed through the guard rail and soon found himself suspended in mid air, about to crash into the river. Several thoughts went through his mind in the moments before his car went through the water. \n\nHis job really wasn’t so terrible. In fact his life was pretty great. It was full of things he liked to different degrees, he had just chosen to dislike them. In fact everything seemed to be really amazing when compared to the idea of crashing into a river. The only really sad thing was that his enlightenment would be short lived. He closed his eyes, and gripped the steering wheel. \n\nA minute later he was sitting in a car filling with water, like he was watching a movie. He felt like he should really do something about this, but couldn’t think of anything useful. His mind began to fill with a soothing buzzing. \n\nTHUNK. \n\nHe was shaken out of his stupor by a loud sound at his window. Something was pulling the car door open. It looked like a cow…or a moose? "
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[WP] You wake up to find a small cube with a button on your desk. Seconds before you press it, you hear a knock on your door.
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"My head is swimming as i wake up. reaching for the sheets i find once more i have tossed so much in my sleep that they fell to the floor. i sit up quickly looking around the edge of my bed. for any hint of where they had fallen. after a moment my brain finally kicks in telling me i can't see. i lean over my marble crafted night stand. snatching my Dolce & Gabana glasses. able to see i sit on the edge of my bed scanning my room.\n\nOne wall just to the right of my bed is all mirrors. the view is striking to most when they first walk in. the mirrors show a 1200 square feet room. one part a dance studio. the other a office/study. shifting my gaze to my office i see a black cube with a crystal button on top sitting on my desk. \"was my mom in my room before i woke up?\" standing slowly still groggy i move to my desk. the light from my bay windows catches off the desk. momentary i am blinded. i look down at the cube. \"it must be some new fashion designer trying to impress my mom again.\" \"she wants to see if i like it.\"\n\nI pickup the cube. \"i hope its a new watch i really need a new one.\" as i reach for the button a knock breaks my focus. turning to my door a bit annoyed i ask who it is. my door is breached open sending me crashing to the floor. the family security stands before me with a SWAT team. i look at them confused and scared shitless. \"Dawson where is it?\" Charles are head security agent asks. a look of fear welded on his face.\n\nI look down slowly to my right hand tightly grasping the Cube. my thumb pressing the button down. \"Charles...\" i say raising my hand \"am i going to die?\" a tear slips down my cheek. he steps forward \"its going to be ok.\" suddenly a sound admits from the box. without a second thought everyone else rushes out of the room. Charles stands his ground staring at me never breaking eye contact.\n\nA voice begins speaking slowly and quiet. \"Hey Dawson.\" \"i know your likely confused and scared right now.\" i hear foot steps in the background. \"shes walking around a pretty empty room.\" \"maybe a garage?\" i think to my self. her voice suddenly gets louder. \"i have known you for a while.\" a moment passes before she starts again. the seconds weigh on me like i am being buried alive. \"we need to talk.\" \"this was the only way i could reach you now.\" i sit-up rapidly \"I KNOW WHO THIS IS!\" Charles head snaps to me \"who?\"...\n\n​\n\nTell me what you think was just writing as the video of the scene played out in my head. might keep working on this one. like the way i see it playing out."
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So I’ve had this idea for a while of a horror movie or book set during the day as a way of subverting the whole idea of making it through the night to the safety of the day, and thought it would be interesting to see what other people do with the idea! Also sorry if this isn’t the correct flare, I wasn’t too sure which one was right :)
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[WP] Horror short set during the day.
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" \n\nThe sun halted in the sky gazing upon this scorched land. My blood had long been boiling in this hellish heat. Now with the sun at its zenith, my sweat ceased. The moisture was ripped from my skin and offered to the world. I stiffened my legs and cocked my head. I looked out to a ridge I hoped was just beyond the horizon. Forward may not have be the way to anything, but it was the only way left. My feet twisted with each step over the jagged terrain. My path between the desert brush grew more serpentine. A rustling roar echoed in the distance. The roar approached and brought a wave of wind that doused me with a cooling relief. I was baptized in the cleansing surge for only a moment. My body creaked back in to an aching existence and lurched forward. I knew a ridge would be birthed from that fixed horizon. I intently focused on the edge of the earth until the heat waves distorted the boundary between heaven and the hellscape. I briefly imagined a paradise somewhere far away. It was not anywhere specific. It was a place without fear or indifference. Maybe it was a peaceful beach or a mountain lodge. My delusion of reprieve faded away when the sun continued whipping its flames upon my bare back. \n\nA countless brief eternity later, a hill’s peak broke the surface of the endless expanse. I had a place to hope for and strive towards even if it were to be a sickening mirage. Another roar livened the fauna. I stood awaiting the breeze, but none came. The rustling hung in the peripheral of my hearing. My spine shot stiff. I spun back on my heels. There was nothing trailing. Only yesterdays horizon followed me. A detached sense of doom drew from me a mild but petrified panic. The wave of rustling was gone. I turned my focus back toward the mountains. My stride quickened. My eyes skimmed the distance for coyotes. Eventually the lack of life registered. The fear left my mind only to be replaced with the sun’s angry glare. \n\nI later slid in to an arroyo but remained fixed on the growing range. The turns of the dry river provided some shade. The rumbling arrival of wind sounded again. I was ready to be purified. No wind came. The sound morphed in to echoing howls and piercing cackles. A pack of coyotes had found me for an easy lunch. Or perhaps a group of savages were tracking my sent. The wailing shrieks reverberated in my head. I was deafened and spun frantically for an enemy. Faceless heads glared down from the edge of the banks. When I looked to one it would disappear, and hundreds would appear. My head shook violently. I yelled to drown out the impending rampage. My eyes clamped down. My neck bulged as my knees hit the dense sand. Then the chaos was gone. It vanished. I looked out from my shaking hands to the empty ridge. I rose and froze there. I began a limping trot upstream. Was that bedlam my sanity disintegrating? I feared to look up or back. I did not want to return to that place of mind or sand. Thoughts of death and torture entranced my mind. I mumbled reassurances of my reality and denials of the one’s I saw. \n\nI ran up the river banks in to a cluster of plants. It was as much of a forest as the barren land could muster. My mind continued to race. I jumped from one sliver of shade to the next shaking and limping. Slowly a weird surge pulsed through my body. When this ethereal movement had engulfed my being, I was devoid of the perception of feeling. I lost all sense of pain. I looked down in horror at my tattered shoes. I couldn’t tell if the ground I walked on was silk sand or shards of glass. The hotness of the air burned and cooled my skin. My muscles tensed with each step but felt close to tearing apart. This dichotomy of pain and pleasure was indescribable. I had forgotten all ways to sense my surroundings. My mania returned. What evil was pulsing from this terrible desert? My trot progressed to a sprint. Forms and figures dove behind distant Joshua trees. Howls soared above me and swift steps were right on my tracks. I looked up and the mountainous mirage had disappeared. The demons were closing in to feast on my flesh. A black silhouette rose from the boiling ground. It lunged toward me. I plunged my hand into the darkness in a last futile attempt. Instead my hand was thrust through the needles of a cactus. The disorder disappeared again to some other realm. Pain returned to me. Blood seeped through the holes in my hand. I cracked the pricks off and left them be. I drew my pierced hand across my forehead just to feel again. Pain ripped through my hand and head, but my screams were silent. I had no sense left. I was broken in a halted existence. The sun laughed from across the sky. \n\nI sank to the ground exhausted. I focused my gaze on a smoke laden from in the distance. My fixation was broken by a shimmering beacon. I shifted to the behemoth mountains that ripped apart the desert landscape. The sparse shrubs and bushes mix to appear as bottom dwelling plants and crustaceans like those that lived here eons ago. This place was devoid of life and reason. It was a land reclaimed by the earth and will never be touched again by man. There was no rainbow of clouds as the sun set. There was just a moment when the night ate the sky. The mountains hid. The sky flooded with a galactic glow. The wind and heat continued to dance through the night. Their dance slowed to a waltz. The world exhaled a last hot tensioned breath and so did I. ",
"A good morning as usual, everything seemed fine.\n\nMary greeted me as she jogged past by my house; Terry, the postman, gave his most joyful smile as he invited me for dinner at his house 5 blocks away; The twins of Ms. Harper were as polite as usual to me, walking there way to school.\n\nEverything is fine.\n\nIsn't it?\n\nThe heat of the coffee is radiating through the flesh of my palms.\n\nI could smell the air of autumn coming, and ,indeed, this was a cold day. \n\nThe wind chimes of my next-door neighbors rang out. Mr. Harper is going to have his meeting today. I peered over at his porch as he gave his wife a goodbye kiss.\n\nWe both met eyes and exchanged greetings as he walked to his garage, and drove off from his black SUV. \"See you tonight, sir!\" He shouted, as he passed by and left.\n\nThis moment was then calm again. The breeze isn't getting warmer as each minute passed.\n\nIt was then then I realized my coffee got cold. \"That's enough caffeine for today.\" I told myself as I stood up.\n\nIt was 8:30 when I checked my watch. \n\n\"Well, time to prepare.\"\n\nI rang the doorbell before entering my house.\n\nEverything looked in place when I entered my house. The photo albums of my earlier days as a scout is hanged on top of the furnace. The smell of burnt rosemary fills the air, calming my bones. It felt peaceful, until I heard a thump. \n\nAnd then another, and then another. \n\nIt gets under my skin each time it gets louder.\n\nI stomped on the floor from where I think the thump is coming from near the kitchen.\n\n\"Damn rat, must have heard the bell.\" I muttered\n\n\"What rat?\" another voice said from behind.\n\nI turned around in a frightened manner, but was then relaxed to see a familiar face outside the backdoor window.\n\n\"Ms. Harper! So sorry you had to see that side of me.\"\n\n\"Oh be quiet.\" She said as she entered the house. \"I have seen a lot from you ever since you've came here.\" She said she pointed down to her crotch.\n\nI then blushed just from a teasing remark, \"Did you took the ones then, I gave you afterwards?\"\n\n\"Oh, of course not.\" she said in a sarcastic remark as she leans on the counter.\n\nI awkwardly gave chuckle, not knowing whether she is serious or not.\n\nThe thumping then continued, interrupting the mood between us. We both looked down on the floor in unison.\n\nAs she held out a cigarette pack from her pocket, she then asked me in a serious tone. \"What's it this time?\"\n\n\"A fully grown one.\"\n\n\"Then the job is easy.\" \n\nShe stomped on the same spot, in an aggravating manner.\n\n\"That should calm it down.\" she said as she grabbed one stick from the pack. \n\n\"May I?\" I held out a lighter for her.\n\n\"No need, save that for later.\" she said as she lighted her cigarette from the stove.\n\nIt got quiet for a moment as I waited for her to take a breather.\n\n\"So, Terry told you?\" She then mentioned.\n\n\"Yeah, he told me just this morning.\"\n\n\"You're the chef this time, so don't screw this up like last year.\"\n\n\"But I don't know how to cook, that's why I rang the doorbell 5 times last night. It wasn't easy you know? Especially that I had to go to the shanties.\"\n\n\"Why the fuck would you go to the shanties? Forget it, you're new here anyways.\" She sighed as she turned towards me and grinned. \"So...now...\" She went close to my ear and whispered \"...or later?\"\n\nFuck, as much as I want it, I should get this job done. But screw it.\n\nI moved her away, as I went to grab a black case under the counter.\n\n\"I'm a slow one so we should start.\" \n\n\"Nice!\" She gave a peck on my cheeks as she held on to the case, she wobbled at it's weight and its contents gave off a loud rattle. \"You should buy a better case next time, hun. I'll meet you down when your done changing.\" She winked at me as she went to the basement door.\n\nShe indeed is a good wife material for a man like me. I start to go upstairs to my bedroom to change.\n\nExcitement is running through me. But at the same time the tension of doing something wrong with someone's wife is something to be worth shivering for. I put on my lab coat and white pants, grabbed a pair of latex gloves and a box of it in case we got dirty. I grabbed the remaining equipment from my cabinet and walked down to the basement.\n\nIt was mostly dark but the only light source came from a hanging bulb in front of a metallic door with a huge valve in the center. Just beside it, Ms. Harper was there standing, wearing a nurse outfit. \"Is this supposed to be tight? Damn skirt, is putting a gash on my skin.\" She then took it off and threw it towards me. \"Perv.\"\n\n\"So...is...um...should we...\" \n\n\" Why hesitate? This the reason why you're slow.\"\n\n\"Sorry\"\n\n\"Don't be.\" She smirked as she grabbed the keys from my pocket and unlocked the door.\n\n\"So how'd you want it? Stewed or roasted.\" she asked me as she turned the valve.\n\n\"Roasted is fine.\"\n\n\"Good choice.\" She then opened the door, the sound of metal grinding together echoes throughout the basement.\n\nWe then walked to a stairs leading to a dark room, \"Switch the lights on.\" Ms. Harper ordered as she placed the case on a nearby desk. There was a loud groan and whimper with the sound of chains hitting together at the end of the room.\n\n\"Relax, relax hun. Everything will be fine.\" She said, opening the case revealing a jumble of knives and surgical equipment.\n\nThe lights are on. \n\nFluorescent bulbs flicker as it reveals molds and blood splatters spread across the blue tiled wall. A surgical table is set on center with, the man I've caught last night behind it, chained to a wall where his hands are crushed between the ceiling and the floor above.",
"A good morning as usual, everything seemed fine.\n\nMary greeted me as she jogged past by my house; Terry, the postman, gave his most joyful smile as he invited me for dinner at his house 5 blocks away; The twins of Ms. Harper were as polite as usual to me, walking there way to school.\n\nEverything is fine.\n\nIsn't it?\n\nThe heat of the coffee is radiating through the flesh of my palms.\n\nI could smell the air of autumn coming, and ,indeed, this was a cold day. \n\nThe wind chimes of my next-door neighbors rang out. Mr. Harper is going to have his meeting today. I peered over at his porch as he gave his wife a goodbye kiss.\n\nWe both met eyes and exchanged greetings as he walked to his garage, and drove off from his black SUV. \"See you tonight, sir!\" He shouted, as he passed by and left.\n\nThis moment was then calm again. The breeze isn't getting warmer as each minute passed.\n\nIt was then then I realized my coffee got cold. \"That's enough caffeine for today.\" I told myself as I stood up.\n\nIt was 8:30 when I checked my watch. \n\n\"Well, time to prepare.\"\n\nI rang the doorbell before entering my house.\n\nEverything looked in place when I entered my house. The photo albums of my earlier days as a scout is hanged on top of the furnace. The smell of burnt rosemary fills the air, calming my bones. It felt peaceful, until I heard a thump. \n\nAnd then another, and then another. \n\nIt gets under my skin each time it gets louder.\n\nI stomped on the floor from where I think the thump is coming from near the kitchen.\n\n\"Damn rat, must have heard the bell.\" I muttered\n\n\"What rat?\" another voice said from behind.\n\nI turned around in a frightened manner, but was then relaxed to see a familiar face outside the backdoor window.\n\n\"Ms. Harper! So sorry you had to see that side of me.\"\n\n\"Oh be quiet.\" She said as she entered the house. \"I have seen a lot from you ever since you've came here.\" She said she pointed down to her crotch.\n\nI then blushed just from a teasing remark, \"Did you took the ones then, I gave you afterwards?\"\n\n\"Oh, of course not.\" she said in a sarcastic remark as she leans on the counter.\n\nI awkwardly gave chuckle, not knowing whether she is serious or not.\n\nThe thumping then continued, interrupting the mood between us. We both looked down on the floor in unison.\n\nAs she held out a cigarette pack from her pocket, she then asked me in a serious tone. \"What's it this time?\"\n\n\"A fully grown one.\"\n\n\"Then the job is easy.\" \n\nShe stomped on the same spot, in an aggravating manner.\n\n\"That should calm it down.\" she said as she grabbed one stick from the pack. \n\n\"May I?\" I held out a lighter for her.\n\n\"No need, save that for later.\" she said as she lighted her cigarette from the stove.\n\nIt got quiet for a moment as I waited for her to take a breather.\n\n\"So, Terry told you?\" She then mentioned.\n\n\"Yeah, he told me just this morning.\"\n\n\"You're the chef this time, so don't screw this up like last year.\"\n\n\"But I don't know how to cook, that's why I rang the doorbell 5 times last night. It wasn't easy you know? Especially that I had to go to the shanties.\"\n\n\"Why the fuck would you go to the shanties? Forget it, you're new here anyways.\" She sighed as she turned towards me and grinned. \"So...now...\" She went close to my ear and whispered \"...or later?\"\n\nFuck, as much as I want it, I should get this job done. But screw it.\n\nI moved her away, as I went to grab a black case under the counter.\n\n\"I'm a slow one so we should start.\" \n\n\"Nice!\" She gave a peck on my cheeks as she held on to the case, she wobbled at it's weight and its contents gave off a loud rattle. \"You should buy a better case next time, hun. I'll meet you down when your done changing.\" She winked at me as she went to the basement door.\n\nShe indeed is a good wife material for a man like me. I start to go upstairs to my bedroom to change.\n\nExcitement is running through me. But at the same time the tension of doing something wrong with someone's wife is something to be worth shivering for. I put on my lab coat and white pants, grabbed a pair of latex gloves and a box of it in case we got dirty. I grabbed the remaining equipment from my cabinet and walked down to the basement.\n\nIt was mostly dark but the only light source came from a hanging bulb in front of a metallic door with a huge valve in the center. Just beside it, Ms. Harper was there standing, wearing a nurse outfit. \"Is this supposed to be tight? Damn skirt, is putting a gash on my skin.\" She then took it off and threw it towards me. \"Perv.\"\n\n\"So...is...um...should we...\" \n\n\" Why hesitate? This the reason why you're slow.\"\n\n\"Sorry\"\n\n\"Don't be.\" She smirked as she grabbed the keys from my pocket and unlocked the door.\n\n\"So how'd you want it? Stewed or roasted.\" she asked me as she turned the valve.\n\n\"Roasted is fine.\"\n\n\"Good choice.\" She then opened the door, the sound of metal grinding together echoes throughout the basement.\n\nWe then walked to a stairs leading to a dark room, \"Switch the lights on.\" Ms. Harper ordered as she placed the case on a nearby desk. There was a loud groan and whimper with the sound of chains hitting together at the end of the room.\n\n\"Relax, relax hun. Everything will be fine.\" She said, opening the case revealing a jumble of knives and surgical equipment.\n\nThe lights are on. \n\nFluorescent bulbs flicker as it reveals molds and blood splatters spread across the blue tiled wall. A surgical table is set on center with, the man I've caught last night behind it, chained to a wall where his hands are crushed between the ceiling and the floor above."
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[WP]Santa comes down the chimney only to be greeted by a swat team with assault rifles pointed at him
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"Normally, when Santa visits your house, he is welcomed with a dimly lit Christmas tree, some hot milk, and a plate of chocolate chip. But not this year. This year is going to be different.\n\n\"GET DOWN\"\n\nShocked, Santa squeezed down the chimney, only to be welcomed by a squad of geared up soldiers with their weapons pointed straight at him.\n\n\"Ho...Ho...What is going on here fellas\" Santa said as he put his hands on his head.\n\n\"I SAID GET ON THE GROUND\" one of the soldiers yelled.\n\n\"AL-ALRIGHT CALM DOWN SON\" Santa replied with a panic. He got down to his knees and hoped for the best.\n\nBehind the group of soldiers, stood a man wearing only a flak jacket and a P250 pistol.\n\n\"You have no idea what it took for me to find you\" the man chuckled \"you know as fat as you are, you're a hard person to find\"\n\n\"I don't understand what's the meaning of this?\" Santa asked.\n\n\"You managed to piss off the right people, Nick\" the man said as he took a whiff of his cigar.\n\n\"Impossible. My only mission is to give joy to children, how could I have ever make an enemy of someone\" Santa blabbered confusingly.\n\n\"You really don't remember do you? Do you recall a child name Felix?\"\n\n\"Look this is ridiculous, I visit billions of houses each year and all in one night. You can't expect me to remember all of the kids' names. Possibly this year, but the past years I've forgotten\"\n\n\"Christmas 1998. Anything come to mind?\"\n\nSanta shook his head.\n\n\"Huh...how many people do you put on the naughty list per year?\" The man asked.\n\n\"Almost none...I almost never put kids on the naughty list unless they're actually terrible kids. It's actually a common threat that parents make to their kids..to put their name in my naughty list. But in reality that's not true.\" Santa scratched his snow white beard \"The last naughty kid I put down was before...Christmas 1998\" Santa finally came to a realization.\n\nThe man gave a smirk.\n\n\"Now you remember, St.Nick\" the man said\n\n\"F-Felix Marena?\" Santa asked in a broken tone \"I remember you...you were that kid that shot your family rival dead because he cat called your sister. No one actually found out that you did it, so they blamed his 19 year old son.\"\n\nThe man, Felix, clapped his hands slowly.\n\n\"Congratulations on finally guessing it\"\n\nSanta looked absolutely disgusted but with a hint of regret as well.\n\n\"You don't know how many times I was tempted that night to manipulate the government to get you arrested, but Santa can't meddle in human affairs\" Santa replied.\n\n\"Yeah..and I never got a present that year Santa. You know how much that hurt 8 year old me? You know even as I grew up, I never forgot that Christmas, when I woke up with no presents. Even as I took over my family cartel, I held onto that hatred. Now I got you right where I want you\" Felix explained as he finished his cigar.\n\n\"So what are you gonna do now\" Santa cautiously asked.\n\n\"You know, I'm glad your suit is red\" Felix replied \"Welcome to Mexico city, Nick\"\n\nFelix walked away as his mercenaries unloaded their clips on jolly St. Nick.\n___________________________________________________\nAuthor's note: been watching too much Narcos. Also I changed the swat team to soldiers."
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[WP] Write a love letter from Death to Life, or vice versa.
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"I get that you love me so much you keep trying ro send all those supposed pretty little lights to me, but everytime you do they're all ready flickered out\n\nI know you want me to see the light, even just the once, but it just isn't possible. I appreciate them all the same, I cherish them and I'll keep them close to my heart for eternity. \n\nYou've always been there for me, holding my hand, never an inch apart. Sometimes you'd teach me about yourself, and others I'd scold you, but know that it's only because I care. Sometimes I'm clumsy and break your lights. I'm sorry. I know how much they mean to you, I still have the pieces and have tried to make them work again but just can't\n\n\nI gyess what i wa ted to say was that you're my other half, I couldn't imagine being without you. You complete me in entirety and without you I'd be lost.\n\nPromise you'll stay with me forever?",
" \n\nI saw you today in the hallway\n\nI don’t believe you noticed me.\n\nA boy crushed a bug under foot—\n\nI watched you wisp away like rose petals riding a breeze\n\nYou were making room for me, I suppose.\n\nDid you see me?\n\nDid you see me climb over the bug?\n\nlike frost, like eager fire, like a secret\n\nI made a home in the bug and in turn he is resting, forever peaceful.\n\nDo you notice these small kindnesses I do?\n\nI hope so. \n\n\\-\n\nI saw you last night in a townhouse in Lakeview\n\nYour eyes just missed mine\n\nA boy’s father collapsed on the carpet\n\nI watched as he coughed you out—\n\nCatlike, you landed on all fours.\n\nDo you feel lonely like I do?\n\nSurely the act of leaving is harder than the act of arriving\n\nOr is it easier to be a fleeting thing?\n\nI am forever and sometimes I must life in an innocent boys’ fathers\n\nBut there is room in this bed for two.\n\nI hope you see me on your way out.\n\nOne day, perhaps.\n\n\\-\n\nI saw you many years later, on the balcony\n\nA man that was once a boy smoked a cigarette he hoped would be his last\n\nI liked the way you burned, all heart and cinder \n\nI wondered if you were mourning\n\nOr if you felt free.\n\nOr if you knew who what where I am.\n\nOne day, perhaps.\n\nBut for now:\n\nThank you, for \n\nAgain and again\n\ngiving these guilty bones somewhere to call home. \n\n​\n\n​",
"It's been a long time. An eternity almost. The others mocked us, a love that never could be. But that's not true, for the moment I set my eyes upon you I knew you were the one. \n\nThey say that you destroy my artwork. You cut short that which is meant to be. That's not true. You clean the slate, give me a fresh canvas to work upon. Without you, the world would become muddled. \n\nAs you wipe away that which has seen its prime, you also sometimes take that which is not yet mature. I know that you only take them when you cannot overlook their perfection. My gifts to you, all of life, I am not selfish, from their moment of creation they are yours, and I trust you know when to take them.\n\nIt has been said that you are greedy. It may be a little true, as you have kept it all, all the life I have ever give to you. But you also give back to me. The blank canvas, a reason to keep creating, to breath life into all living things. \n\nI inhabit all living things, and that moment that you claim it as yours, we stand face to face. I see in your eyes that you are just as lonely as I. \n\nSo my dear Death, I will keep sending you the artwork that carries my soul. \n\nr/LandOfMisfits"
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[WP] It’s been years since the world was brought to its knees by aliens, however they didn’t destroy earth, in fact it became a paradise.
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"The sun was shining, the grass was green, birds were in the air, but Captain Garglanx was trudging down his street.\n\n\"Good morning, captain!\" said Mrs. Franklin, with a wave and a smile from across the way. She was watering the flowers in her yard. Some native to the region, some interplanetary. \n\n\"Pleasant day to you too!\" Said Garglanx. He wasn't wearing his officer's uniform, but that hardly mattered. His face was well known, and besides this was his neighbor. \n\n\"How are you going to celebrate the Holiday? Any special plans?\"\n\nGarlanx shuddered. He always forgot when the Holiday rolled around. \n\n\"I completely forgot...\" said Garlanx. He scratched his mandibles and tried to remember earth years. \n\n\"Forgot?\" said Mrs. Franklin, \"it's practically a holiday for you!\"\n\n\"It's just that Earth has got funny ways of telling time, I can never get the days of the month and days of the year right. Isn't it 400?\" \n\n\"So funny, Captain! Earth revolves around sol every 365 days, 12 months. How could you forget! You might be a big famous military man, but no such skill at dates! See ya!\"\n\nGarglanx kept walking. He looked around and admired the view. They were in a nice suburb, outside a nice city. It had been ravaged by the war but now was completely regrown. His people were good at regrowing planets. \n\nHis people went around the galaxy conquering and regrowing planets. But unlike what human leaders had thought galactic conquerors would want, the Earth was not now a burnt out, water and oxygen depleted husk, but instead a total Eden. \n\nGarglanx had been an officer in an army that raised the vibrations of planets. For his people, this was their energy source and reason for conquest. If people were feeling good, they had a higher vibration, if not, it was lower. This applied to plants and animals too. They wanted earth to be the happiest it could be, for the entirety of it's biodiversity. From man to bacteria, people were loving life more. Alien tech helped, but really they'd fixed human society so people would just be happier and more content. \n\nBut it hadn't always been like that. There had been war. Garglanx was good at war. Garglanx liked war.\n\nGarglanx liked waging planetary attacks, sowing discord amongst the populace, inciting violence between fractured nations, then dropping bombs from orbit and swooping in to wage severe total war. His people always sought peace, but if you looked at one: spikey, 5 red eyes, double jawed, you could also assume they'd been bred for harsher things. \n\nHumans got some credit in Garglanx's book, they fought a good war.. but now.. ugh. He sighed. It was a beautiful day. His people had made the Earth even better than the humans ever could have imagined. \n\n\"I just hate how goddamn thankful they are...\" Garglanx whispered. \n\nHe rounded a corner and was met by a billboard with his face on it. \n\n\"HAIL THE CONQUERORS! THANK YOU CAPTAIN GARGLANX\"\n\nA large crowd seemed to have gathered in the town square. Signs and banners were all around with Garglanx's face on it. Garglanx looked at himself on those banners. The picture the townsfolk had used was from the war days, he looked younger and more rugged. \n\nGarglanx looked into a storefront window to see his reflection, there were deep bags under his 5 eyes. He looked far older now. How long had it been since his last battle? Probably only a few garglanxian months, but it felt like an forever for Garglanx. An eternity with these apes. An eternity of happiness. \n\nThere was a podium and the little mayor of the town stood up. \"Happy capitulation day to you all! And thank you to our conquerors and captain Garglanx.\" squeaked the mayor. \"These past 50 years have been the most peaceful and happiest of any of our lives. Humanity has much thanks for our conquerors who brought us high vibration happiness. Thank you especially to Captain Garglanx who has overseen our region into prosperity. We owe everything to him.\" The crowd cheered. \n\nA fire burned in Garglanx's eye. \n\nThe crowd parted to let Garglanx get closer. Familiar people waved at him. Many of the young people here had grown up knowing only peace. \n\n\"Speech, speech, speech!\" the crowd began to chant. \n\nGarglanx was politely jostled onto the stage, a microphone shoved into his hand. The mayor positioned himself for a photo op and then scooted back. Garglanx looked out at the sea of smiling faces, again at the birds and green grass. \n\n\"Umm,\" he stammered. He looked at his north-left wrist to check his communication relay. He held it up to his mandible. \"Hi, this is Garglanx, I'm not feeling too happy or satisfied. Can I burn some vibration?\"\n\nThe crowd didn't know what this meant, but somebody who thought it was addressed to them cheered. Everyone else's smile's faltered a second. \n\nA static-y message from a thousand light years away came back to Garglanx's wrist. \"Copy that captain Garglanx, you are in good standing. Do what you gotta, feel better.\n\nGarglanx looked up at the crowd. \"Ok cool, I was feeling shitty but I just got clearance to start the war back up.\" He smiled. \n\nSomebody in the crowd shouted, \"what's that mean Garglanx?\"\n\nIn answer, Garglanx drew his lazerblade in two hands, grabbed a fire grenade with the other, and reloaded a seismo-rifle with the last two. The crowd, full of people who only knew peace and harmony, didn't know what to do. \n\nCaptain Garglanx jumped high into the air and started breathing fire. He fired his gun and threw his grenade and when he landed began slashing. He liked war. He hadn't felt this good garglaxian weeks... "
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[This post and comment thread inspired me, hopefully I inspire you.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Android/comments/a1gawz/gionee_on_verge_of_bankruptcy_as_chairman_loses/eapn02q/)
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[WP] You're working your way up in the (maybe not terribly legitimate) business world and your boss tells you to take some funds and "lose" them at a casino to pay the mob.
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" You're working your way up in the (maybe not terribly legitimate) business world and your boss tells you to take some funds and \"lose\" them at a casino to pay the mob.\n\n Feeling a little anxious Beth walks into the casino. As she looks around she feels like everyone knows why she is there. Expecting the police to burst in at any moment she hesitantly steps up to the first slot machine she sees. \n\n Giving herself a little pep talk and deciding to start small, she drops a coin into the slot and pulls the lever. The pictures spin round and round while Beth looks anxiously around her. Suddenly she hears a loud siren! She panics and quickly looks around to see which direction to run. The old lady at the next machine pats her shoulder and Beth realizes she has hit the jackpot. \n\n NO!! This wasn't how this was supposed to go! Beth tries to act happy. She doesn't want to draw extra attention to herself. *Calm down. Its not a problem. I just need to loose that money too.*\n\n Beth moves away from the machine that drew everyone's attention. *OK. The odds of that happening again are slim. I can do this. I'll place a bigger bet this time and get rid of the money faster.* Beth puts the money in the machine, pulls the lever, and....JACKPOT! She goes from machine to machine, getting more and more frantic as she just keeps winning. Not the jackpot every time, but winning every. single. time.\n\n Starting to feel a little panicked Beth decides to leave the slot area and try something else.\n\n The first thing she sees is the roulette table. Remembering her boss' instructions to not draw to much attention she fearfully places a bet (not too big, but not too small) on black 6. The ball is spinning, spinning, spinning. It stops on black 6! She wins again! *Why does this keep happening?!* Beth looks around frantically as if the answer is just going to appear in front of her. \n\n​"
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[WP] Your tattoo was completely original; it was drawn and seen by you only until the day of tattooing. Weeks later, after it has healed, a man notices your arm, and pulls up his sleeve. It is the same exact tattoo. He winks, taps his nose twice, pulls his sleeve down, and walks away.
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"What was his point?\n\nWas it to answer a world famous paradox? What if the universe just...stopped, right then and there? Did he know it wouldn't?\n\nI know I should replace HE with I, but even in seeing an older version of myself its hard to believe.\n\nMaybe I was just loosing my shit, but why, or how?\n\nI have a million questions, but none would be answered by standing here in the middle of the street, dumbfounded. \n\nEven though I've only just gotten the tattoo, I roll up my sleep, and pull the bandage. It was the exact image.\n\nThis wasn't a tattoo anyone would just have. After all, I only thought of it a few weeks back after my wife gave birth to our first baby boy.\n\nThe tattoo was of our zodiac symbols arranged in a way to form a type of character. Her sign, being Cancer, was flipped 45 degrees to form two eyes. it was a 69. His symbol, Gemini, was a Roman numeral 2. That made up its mouth. The Virgo symbol, being an M with a cross around the right leg, made up its torso. \n\nAs I said before, not a tattoo I see anyone having. Particularly since I arranged it in a way to make sense, and basically hide the truth of the symbols in the image.\n\nYet, there is was. On what at first seemed like a stranger, dressed in all black, wearing a western type bolero hat.\n\nIt seemed an accident, bumping into each other. I have the bad habit of looking down at my phone while walking. To my defense, it was a bit late, and the road empty, while walking my dog. Paying attention didn't seem necessary. After all, I take this walk daily. I still glance up from time to time, just to re-adjust my eyes to the darkness. Surely I would have seen someone approach, not to mention hear them.\n\nNot him, or I...\n\nHe, quite literally appeared, as if out of thin air.\n\nI understand the absurdity of it all, but its what happened.\n\nAs we passed, and looked back at each other, he smiled. I turned away, but quickly snapped back, realizing what I was seeing. Myself, or very close to it. There were subtle changes, particularly the age, but it was unquestionably me.\n\nOddly enough, my already friendly dog, Foxy, seeming particularly friendlier. Climbing up to his knee, begging to be pet. \n\nHe never took his eyes off me, though did bend down slowly, and gave her what she wanted. A kiss. He took in her scent, and for the first time, closed his eyes, savoring it.\n\n\"I miss you\" he whispered.\n\n​\n\n​\n\n​\n\n​\n\n​\n\n​\n\n​"
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[WP] Your best friend, whom is a incredibly kind and decent person, has went through several assassination attempts this past month. These assassinators are all from different points in the future, the earliest being only a year from now.
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"You recognize the bright blue eyes as the same ones that stare at you from the mirror, he looks like you, but in a doppelgänger kind of way. The gray at the temples is different, his face is more weary, but his body is more... lean.\n\n\n\nWhen he takes a knife and runs towards Lisa you step in, and as you touch him he splinters. All you can hear are his last words: ‘I knew it wouldn’t work, I’ve been here before, but you need the next one to succeed!’\n\n\nA few weeks later a girl approaches the two of you, she can’t be more that 12 or 13. She takes some sort of case from her pocket and yells ‘my momma should never have been’. As electrical current zips across the taser. You seem to touch the girl, who also splinters as you hear her dying thoughts: ‘Don’t touch us, we need to succeed.’\n\n\nAbout a month after the first attempt an old man begging for coin is faster than we had expected, manages to swipe his crutch on Lisa’s head. Seeing the pattern I touch him as well, and with his final thoughts he reveals: we are one: father, daughter, grandson. As Lisa and I grew closer in this day and age, the future ripped apart. Only separating us, preventing offspring would allow the future to remain ‘Human’. \n\n\nEight months later.\n\nI am in the hospital, Lisa delivered us a beautiful baby girl. But I am neither happy nor lusting for life. The bags beneath my eyes tell a story of someone looking for something. My hair is going gray. I have been running, a lot, but I don’t know to where.\n\n\nAs our girl is growing up, I am growing restless. I feel I’m still missing pieces of the puzzle. After another three months I am visited at home one late afternoon. Our daughter asleep in the crib. Three figures enter, they introduce themselves as the wiser counsel, think of us as you lawyers. We’ll tell you how to work your defence, and show you what happens when you don’t. They are our great grand children. They have been cursed to live reversed. The are born knowing all, and die knowing naught. They see that the tap on the head by their brother gave Lisa the sight of the world. A sight she felt she wanted to rule. And if she isn’t stopped, she will succeed. \n\n\nThey show me the horrors coming in future times. As they convince me to travel back in time. I all ready know it to be a failure."
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[WP] You wake up after a night out drinking with your best friend, and Instagram notifications arriving nonstop. You see that last night you uploaded a selfie on a white background, captioned "I did it!". It has two hundred thousand likes.
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"My eyes focus on the screen. Prongs of fire biting into my head. I toss my phone to my side. I did *what*?. I stand up, slowly, then try to still my head for a moment. Making my way too the kitchen, the full gravity of the situation begins to bear itself down on me. 217,908 people?! 5 times the population of Monaco. I slide open the draw; *no fucking paracetamol. Black coffee it is.* My hangover begins to subside. I switch on the news, wanting to catch up on the business in Ukraine. 14:38. *Shit. Late for work*.\n\n\n(Im sorry, it's my first time and I'm really tired. I will try some more times, and sorry it's total shit."
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[WP] Everytime anything gets hit by a truck it gets sent to a parallel universe.
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"The last thing I heard was the blaring of a horn. Then there was a loud crunch, and finally darkness. \n\n\nI open my eyes with a start, my heart racing. Well that's good news, at least it is still beating. That is already better than I was expecting. It must have just been a dream, a very vivid and shockingly painful dream. I sit up, expecting to see my bedroom, but instead I'm lying in the road. What am I doing sleeping in the road? Was I day drinking again? I don't remember, which isn't really a conclusive answer. \n\n\nA swarm of insects buzzes by. There are a lot of them, the most I have ever seen in one place. The swarm is so thick it looks solid, like I could reach out and pick it up. I resist the temptation, mostly because my head is hurting. Looks like another check mark in the day drinking column. \n\n\nA quick glance around shows a mostly barren landscape. The only houses I can see look like a truck drove through them, and I'm not being hyperbolic. There are bricks scattered everywhere. What is this place? \n\n\nI slowly get to my feet, waiting for the world to spin, but it remains surprisingly stable. That's when I notice the person on the horizon. It looks like an old man, and he is staring right at me. I wave, but he doesn't wave back. If I run I am pretty sure I can catch him up, he isn't exactly blazing a trail out there. \n\n\nAs I start to run I swallow another mouthful of bugs. Honestly, how are there so many around here? Is nothing eating them? I'm busy looking for other animals when I almost trip right over the bird that waddles out in front of me. It is the fattest bird I have ever seen. It makes a turkey look skinny. It's little stick legs are shaking with the effort of moving its podgy little body around. It stumbles forward, its mouth open, and chomps down some bugs. Then it collapses back to the ground, wheezing. \n\n\nThe old man has started hobbling away, but I catch up to him easily. He eyes me warily. \"Unlucky there sonny. Let me guess, a truck hit you?\"\n\n\"What? No, that was just a dream. Wait, how do you know about my dream? Am i still dreaming? Am i drunk right now?\"\n\nHe chuckles. \"Don't be ridiculous. You're in the 7,957th dimension, otherwise known as planet Truck Stop. Basically everything ever hit by a truck gets sent here.\"\n\n\"Wait, you were hit by a truck too?\"\n\n\"In a manner of speaking. Stage 4, terminal. I didn't want to bankrupt my wife, and we didn't have a gun, so i stepped out into traffic. Had to make sure I did it right. Was a nice truck too, big red one. I feel bad for the driver, but I'm sure he got over it.\"\n\nI blurt out, \"You're crazy. This is crazy.\" As I look around this world makes a lot more sense. Bugs, derelict buildings and the occasional small animal. \"Wait, how are you even alive? Like, what do you eat?\"\n\nHe claps his hands together suddenly, making me jump. Then he shows me the dead bugs crushed onto his palm before he licks it. \"They are surprisingly nutritious.\" \n\n\nNope. Not happening. I can't stay here. \"How do I get out of here?\"\n\nHe grinned. \"Same way you came in.\" \n\n\"Hit by a truck?\"\n\n\"Yep. There's one of those new fangled automated trucks out here. Must have gotten into an accident with another truck, but it still drives. The computer just has it driving in circles. Should be here in a couple of minutes.\"\n \n\"Is that where you are heading?\"\n\n\"What? No sonny, I just saw you coming and didn't feel like making friends today. I'm a bit of a loner, I like having this place all to myself, you know? These bugs only go so far, I don't want to be fighting someone for food at my age.\" \n\nAs we continue on our path I see the plume of dust heading our way. The old man pulls out a pocketwatch. \"Right on time. I have to hand it to the engineers, that thing runs like clockwork.\"\n\n\"So what do I have to do? Stand in front of it?\"\n\n\"No, that won't work, it will detect you. You have to stand to the side and leap in front of it at the last second, before it can stop.\"\n\nIt's not everyday you get hit by a truck, and a rarer day still when you get hit by two of them. \"Have you seen this work?\"\n\n\"Oh yeah, at least a dozen times. Poof, just like that they are gone, no trace of them. Better to do it quickly though, who knows what will happen if your body has been cremated back in your dimension.\" \n\n\nThe dust plume slowly fades to reveal a large black truck with no windows. It looks how I imagine death would look if he had 18 wheels. It is moving fast, in 30 seconds it will be upon us. \n\n\nI stand there, ready to jump. What do I have to lose? \n\n\nAs it races closer I can feel the doubt kicking in. I'm not sure I can do this. What if the old man is wrong? What if this just kills me? I wasn't ready for the first truck to hit me, why would I repeat the process intentionally. I can feel my nerves kicking in and my knees wobble. I can't do this. Maybe next time. Maybe this world isn't so bad after all. I haven't even given it a chance. \n\n\nThe truck is about to pass me when I feel a shove from behind and then the familiar horn blaring and darkness. I can feel my consciousness moving this time, heading back to my world. I'm going to get a second chance. I'm going to live the life I always intended to live. \n\n\nI open my eyes to see a group of people huddled around me. These must be the EMTs, trying to resuscitate me. I try to speak, to tell them I'm ok, but one of them shushes me. \"It's ok son, that sneaky bastard got us too.\" \n\n\nI sit up abruptly to see a barren landscape with a fading line of bugs bursting into existence. People are chasing after the black trail, waving their hands in the air. The old man leering over me laughs. \"Welcome to the 435,112th dimension, or what we like the call, the truck stops truck stop. How is that old bastard anyway? I wished him dead for a long time, until I realized that when he dies he won't send anyone else here so he can keep that place all to himself.\" \n\nTwo words escape my mouth that sum up exactly how I feel about that. \"Mother trucker!\" \n\n\n\n"
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[WP] It's the year 2130 and you are in a blizzard, in the middle of summer. Europe and US attempt to send some of their elite citizens to Mars. You receive a ticket and an encoded message ordering you to board a ship and stop it from reaching Mars.
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"She looked up from the tablet’s screen. Her eyes gazed upon me, moving up and down, unsure of what I was doing there. I knew that look, I had seen it countless times before. It was a look I deserved, too many broken promises down memory lane.\n\n“What exactly is it this time, Jim?”, she asked as she swiped through the tablet’s pages.\n\n“Just read it, Beth. This time, it’s something legit. I promise.” \n\nThere were those two words again. I knew convincing her would take some effort. Given what happened at the communal winter bunker, I couldn’t blame her for second guessing me. \n\nShe gave me another glance, then looked down again at the tablet in her hands. \n\nHer brown hair seemed much longer than the last time I saw her. It had only been 4 months, but it felt much longer. I guess pain can make everything last longer. \n\n“I should talk to her.” I thought to myself.\n\nOr maybe that was vodka talking. Even after 12 years, I was still head over heels for this woman. If I could go back, I’d changed a lot, but not her, not the kids. They were the only thing I got right.\n\nMy thoughts drowned out when I could hear her reading.\n\n“Congratulations, Mr. Stoddard, after reviewing your application, the EUNA Mars Selection Committee has approved your profile for Pioneer Mission 476. Please arrive at 05:00, July 23rd, 2130, with the following members of your immediate family...” \n\nHer eyes shot up to meet mine. \n\n“How’d you get this, Jim? Is this real? Who gave yo-“\n\n“It’s real. I told you it’s legit. I put in the application a couple months ago.”, I said.\n\n“Real smart, Jim. You finally have a chance to talk to her and you start with the lies, again.” I thought to myself. \n\nTruth was I applied last week, but her and I both know it takes months for these type of approvals.\n\nShe swiped through the pages, again, still in disbelief. \n\n“But, Jim, I thought Mars was for... Well, you know, not for people like us?”\n\nI let out a small sliver of smile. She was right. ‘Pioneers’ they called ‘em. Just a fancy word for the rich and the people with real brains. Mars was both out of my pay grade and my ability. But the trip to get there? That’s what guys like me were for.\n\n“Apparently they need a couple tough New York City welders like me up there.” I said slyly.\n\nWe both shared a small moment of laughter. I think I missed these moments the most with her. Just her presence was enough to change my mood. I’d do anything and go anywhere for her. Including Mars, apparently. \n\n“Jim, how are we going to get there? This blizzard hasn’t let up in weeks, and it says here that the ship leaves in 3 weeks.” \n\nI could see the worry on her face. No one had been able to leave the summer bunker for over a month because of the blizzard. \n\n“I got it all figured out this time, honey. We’re going to be on those ships come launch time. That... kind of, brings up another thing.”\n\nShe looked at me intently, waiting for the ‘catch’ she was expecting all along.\n\nI smiled as best as I could, “Listen, don’t worry, but the thing is you and the kids are going to be on the first ship, and I, well, I have to be on the second one. It’s... well... you see, the trip is 7 months long and they need me on the second ship for my job briefing and training.”\n\nI could tell her anxiety was high. I might have been out of her life for the last few months, but she always knew she could walk the four levels that separated our rooms in the bunker. \n\n“Look, Beth,” I began as I saw the tears coming to her eyes, “this is for you and the kids. You have always deserved better, I know that. This is a chance for some real change. The kids will never know this world like we did. The bunkers aren’t where our kids need to be growing up.”\n\nShe nodded in agreement, tears streaming down her face.\n\n“It’s just,” she sobbed, “I don’t know, anymore, Jim.”\n\nI knew the conversation was coming. I guess, it’s always better after the good news.\n\n“Beth,” I stopped her, “Look, we don’t need to talk about this, right now. Let’s just get off this frozen rock and we’ll talk about it then, okay?”\n\nI wiped the tears from her eyes like I always did after my screw ups. I leaned in and kissed her cheek.\n\nI turned and opened the apartment door.\n\n“Jim,” she called out. “Why don’t you stay here, tonight?”\n\n“Beth, I don’t think that would be a good thing for us right now.” I said over my shoulder walking out the door.\n\nI could hear her sobs from the other side of the door. I wanted nothing more that night than to stay, but I couldn’t let her get close to me again.\n\nAs I began the four story walk back to my apartment, I popped in my ear buds. I opened the encrypted message on my smart watch, just to hear it one more time.\n\n“As part of our agreement, Mr. Stoddard, Mission 476 - Vessel 2 is not to reach its destination...”"
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[WP] You died years ago and chose to work as a Reaper for eternity in the afterlife. The job is little more than a bureaucrat processing the recently deceased. Then one day you’re called to a scene where you meet a loved one and you have to process them.
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"\"Another one\"\n\ni mutter. Even with all of eternity at your disposal, one can still be pretty lazy. I pick up my scythe, skeleton mask and dark cloak and head out of my office. Yeah, thats right, im a Reaper. You think i would be pretty busy with the hundred of thousands of people dying everyday right? Well, you would be surprise at the number of people who are willing to work as a reaper for eternity just to postpone the Unknown. There are hundred of thousands of us reaper so the job isnt really much of a rush. And btw, the only reason im wearing this ridiculously cartoonish costume is because the \"target\" believe in the concept of the grim reaper while still alive. Something about making it easier for the deceased by giving them what they expect or at least thats what was written in my guide book when i started this gig. \n\nI arrive at the scene, a hospital. \"Typical\", i thought. I put on my costume and walk to the room of the deceased. There he is, the soul of an old man standing next to his former vessel. Old people are easier to deal with since they are more reasonable so i start with a simple line.\n\n\"Yes, you are dead\" I say in a deep and creepy voice.\n\nThe soul turns around. \"Well, what are the odds?\" i thought to myself \"Its my pop\". It took a few seconds for everything to sink in. Suddenly, i feel like im a living human being again, like my heart would actually beat again. However, that feeling quickly die down. \"Everyone has to go eventually\" i told myself. The normal routine kicks in and i unconsciously blurted out:\n\n\"Name?\"\n\nThe moment that word leave my mouth, i instantly regret it. \"Im a deadman, Pop would slap my face off!\"\n\n\"James Cirian\"\n\nThe soul calmly responds.\n\nIt was then that it hits me. \"Oh right, im not his son anymore, nor am i even alive. Im just another gear in this giant unrelenting machine. Better to just get this over with.\" With the same tone as the first question, i asks:\n\n\"Age of death?\"\n\n\"85\"\n\nAnother flat answer. He doesnt seem surprised or frighten in the least. Somehow, i feel like im the person who just died, not him. I then follow the procedures and pull from my cloak an ipad (yeah, we do update our tech) and type his name in. Like a cop reading a criminal their rights, i speak in a deep monotone voice:\n\n\"James Cirian. You have lived an above average life. Now at the end of your journey, you are given a choice. You can either go to heaven to spend an eternity happy or you can have your memories erased and be reincarnated back into the living world\" \n\n\"one ticket to heaven coming right up\" I thought. He was a very religious man. he used to went on and on about how we have to live like this and that so that one day, God will take us into his kingdom. No way he would pass up this chance.\n\n\"Can i ask a question?\" He spoke.\n\n\"yes\"\n\n\"Of all the souls you've reaped, have you ever met a young boy named Sam Cirian?\"\n\nMy heart sinks. \"Why do you mentions me now pop?\"\n\n\"No\" i answer as emotionless as humanly possible.\n\nA slight smile ran across the old man face as he whispers\n\n\"He could still be alive then, thats great\"\n\n\"What do you mean alive? Im dead, im right in front of you. I ran away from home and died in a car accident in the middle of nowhere\" I screamed in my head fighting the urge to just rip the mask off and show him. After a few seconds of silent, i ask:\n\n\"Who is he? Your son?\"\n\n\"No, i gave up on my right to call him that a long time ago.\"\n\nIm sick of this conversation. \n\n\"So, what is your choice?\" i ask him with the tone of a store clerk working overtime.\n\n\"Reincarnation\". The old man answers firmly.\n\ni lost my cool and raise my voice in surprise\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"He could still be out there. I cant go to heaven yet, i cant leave him alone. No matter what form i take, i must see him. Please, bring me back\"\n\nWhat the hell is he saying? Has he gone senile? Why do i even care? I thought out loud.\n\n\" You ask for it!\" i groan as i push the button on my ipad.\n\nA flash of light engulf the old man. i hold my head low as to not make eye contact.\n\n\"i will be seeing you, Sam\" he slightly whispered before disappearing. \n\nI unconsciously raise my head and mutter \"Dad\". He was already gone. There was nothing left but me.\n\nAfter a few minutes of standing like deadfish. I return to my office, open up my ipad and start typing. \n\nThe next day.\n\nI gave the boss my resignation letter.\n\n\"Well that is unfortunate.\" He said in a obnoxious voice while half asleep with his feet on the table.\n\n\"you were one of our best men\"\n\n\"Though you did earned enough credit for a ticket to heaven. Not much a surprise that you would want to go up as soon as possible.\"\n\n\"Im not going up. I want to go back\" I said with a straight face.\n\nOf all my years working in this place, this is probably the first time i have ever seen him react to anything. He put his feet down, sit properly in his chair and with his eyes wide open asks:\n\n\"Why? Didnt you want to go heaven? What is there at that place left for you?\n\n\"I have got someone waiting for me. I cant keep him waiting\"\n\nAn uncharacteristic gentle smile forms on his face as he lean back on his wheel chair. I didnt think he could make such a face. With a cheerful look, he says:\n\n\"It seems that your time here was well spent. Very well, i will respect your choice. Good luck!\"\n\nHe then pulls out a tablet and type my name in.\n\nA ray of light start to engulf me.\n\n\"See ya, boss.\"\n\n\"See ya, Sam\"\n\ni closed my eyes. \n\n\"Oh and as a special bonus for your years of service. I'll make sure that the two of you grow up near each others. Maybe you can be friends this time.\"\n\n\"You bast...\" I chuckle as my consciousness fades away.\n\n​\n\n​\n\n​\n\n​"
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[WP] The British SAS have a mission briefing to discuss a new threat that has been found in Britain. The commanding officer walks in and slaps a file on the table, labeled “Hogwarts”.
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"Deep in the heart of London, in a undisclosed location, me, Havers, Smith and Travis, where talking about the threats from China. It was quite a slow day, it was very cloudy, very cold and just miserable outside. Some Chinese businessmen were buying houses in Leicester which we thought were very strange and needed some looking into. It was a 15 minute conversation but it still needed to be discussed quite thoroughly. Then soon after, the light when red, when the light goes red, that means there is a possible threat and everyone moves quite quickly to discuss and do something about it right away. \n\nCommanding Officer Probert who is one of the highest ranking officials in the whole SAS slams open the door, with a file of at least 20 pages. \"I've got a thing that needs looking into\" he said vigorously, \"Russia are sending in a small plastic barrel of strawberry flavour sugar named Sugar Cauldrons which may contain some novichok which is aimed at kids\".\n\n*Everyone looked at eachother in disbelief but we were all ready to investigate.*\n\n\"This operation will be called \"Hogwarts\" Probert said. "
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[WP] When people die they get the chance to know how they died and who is responsible for their death. When you finally get to the clerk at the reception she looks you up and heads to the back. After a while she comes back with someone else, it's the manager. They tell you there's no record for you.
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" I open my eyes and find myself in a waiting room. Confused I look at the people around me. All of them are quiet, sad even. “Number 423,” calls a soft voice. A young boy stands up and makes his way over to the woman. “Come on, sweetie, I will guide,” I hear her say as she closes the door behind her. \n\n \n I look down at my hand and see ticket with the number 474 on it. I wait patiently as people are called one by one by different people who enter from behind the door. “474,” a male voice rings outs. I stand up and he smiles at me. “Right his way, sir.” I step through the door and what greets me is a long hallway, with blue walls and white doors. \n\n\n I'm led to a small room, simply decorated with a desk, two chairs, a computer and a tall plant in the corner. “Your name, please.” \n\n\n “Anderson,” I reply. “James Anderson.” \n\n\n “Thank you.” The larger man then begins typing something into his system. I watch carefully as his brow began to furrow, “Ummm,” came out of his mouth, as his figures started to move more quickly. “23rd of July, correct?” \n\n\n “Yes.” \n\n\n “Hmmm,” his voice carried some worry behind it. “Oh there's a special note here.” He put his finger on the screen. “It says I need to contact Vivian.” His finger then when up to his ear, as if he was wearing a ear piece. “Oracle, I need Vivian to the welcome gate, please.” \n\n\n He then smiled and looked at me. “Sorry for the wait, every few hundred years are so, we have a case handled by the manager. You should feel pretty honored. Peter relies on her greatly.” \n\n\n A few moments later, a stern looking woman, with a clipboard in her hands enters the room, her wings draped low, her dark hair in a tight bun. A smile plays on her lips, or so I think. “You called for me, Marshall?” \n\n\n “Yes, ma'am.” Marshall stands as he greets hers. “I had some trouble accessing his account. I couldn't find his Death file and then I saw a note to contact you.” \n\n\n “I see,” she says as she walks to Marshall's side of the desk. She sits in his chair. “You may go,” she instructed him. He gives a short bow before exiting the room. \n\n\n A large smile then runs across Vivian's face. “Welcome home!” she practically yells. “Look at my hands,” she brings them up for you to see, they're shaking. “I can't believe we pulled this off. You had me worried when you said you were going to push for 80 years,” she laughs. \n\n\n It was now my turn to sound like James. “Uhhh,” I shake my head from side to side. “I don't understand.” I then watched as her bright smile slowly fades and her face pales a little. \n\n\n “Gabriel?” she whispered. \n\n\n “James,” I replied. \n\n\n She was silent for a long moment. She just stared at me. Then suddenly she moved to the computer, her fingers typing rapidly as if the world depend on it. She then stood, that stern look back on her face as she grabbed the clipboard off the desk. “Follow me,” she ordered and I obeyed. \n\n\n We entered back into the hallway and walked until we reached an elevator. She pulled a key from her pocket. She stuck it into the keyhole and the buttons lit up with different symbols. She pressed what she need and I felt the elevator move down. \n\n\n When they opened we stepped out almost into an identical hall except for the color scheme, which had hues of black, red and purple. We only went to the second door on the right where we found a receptionist. “I need to speak to Morpheus.” \n\n\n “Of course, Ms. Vivian. I'll buzz you in,” said the meek woman at the desk. Vivian then started towards the door behind her, with me closely at her heels. \n\n\n We walked into a large office, with windows that reached from the ceiling to the floor. “So he's returned,” said a smooth voice before he turned towards us in his office chair. “I bet you two thought you were clever, but you can't hide from your dreams. Sending Gabriel down to play as a mortal and for 80 years no less? Brave.” \n\n\n “What did you do to his memories?” Vivian barked. \n\n\n “I locked them in his dreams,” he replied. “He can have them back under one condition.” \n\n\n “Wait,” I finally spoke. “You think I'm Gabriel, *the* Gabriel. There's been some mistake.” \n\n\n “No mistake,” Morpheus clarified. “As a mortal you only remembered who were when you dreamed.” \n\n\n “Unlock them. Bring my brother back to me.” \n\n\n “Under one condition,” he stressed again. \n Vivian looked to me, pain in her eyes before she took a deep breath. “Name it.” \n ",
"Heaven had come exactly how Jeff Remmer had imagined. Maybe not WHEN he imagined, but certainly how he had. It was as if a projector was shining a lightt through his brain and out his eyeballs. And perhaps that was true, his eyes were certainly wide enough, and his mouth preposterously agape enough to resemble some strange, twisted, futuristic projector that some hippie millionaire in Dallas would shine onto the side of his barn for some “neighborhood movie night.” The nerve of some people.\n\nJeff continued to think about people far wealthier than him and why they wouldn’t just share their wealth and pay their taxes as he waited in line. It was a line that seemingly stretched out forever ahead of, and behind him, and the patrons of this line seemed to shuffle too fast for him to keep up, but also not quick enough to simmer his patience. \n\nWhen Jeff passed through the pearly gates, he stopped daydreaming long enough to admire their beauty. They stretched far into the....well, the UPPER heavens, two gigantic ivory McDonald’s archways, they gave off a glow like a supersized fry straight out of Gods own mega-frialator. Jeff supposed he ought to feel inspired when he saw this wonderous creation. But he didn’t. No, that golden glow gave off a cool eminence, something Jeff would have expected to find in Hades’ underworld, not God’s heaven. Had he been wrong? Had he accidentally been praying to a blue Greek firelord all these years? Was “amen” a Greek word, he wondered? What if Hades had been TRICKING people for 2000 years! That definitely sounded like something he would do...\n\n“Hey buddy, the line’s moving. I don’t have all eternity you know,” came a warm voice from behind him, followed by a couple chuckles of laughter.\n\n“Oh, sorry,” Jeff said quickly, and realized he had stopped in his tracks, staring up at the gates still. He probably looked like a real dummy. He turned to apologize to the line he had held up, and was greeted by a smiling face. \n\n“No need to apologize,” said the smiling face, “everybody gets starstruck once in a while. They are magnificent aren’t they?”\n\n“Uh, yeah,” Jeff said dumbly. He was still looking at the smiling face. It belongs to a man who seemed out of place. The man couldn’t be less than four inches shorter than he was, with a trimmed brown beard that was starting to show some grey, though Jeff guessed the man was around his age. He wore a kangol with the brim forward, puma sneakers, a pair of great fitting khaki chinos, Jeff admitted, and a Grateful Dead shirt, black, not tie-dyed. His brown eyes positively SHONE through the thick rectangular glasses that perched atop his nose.\n\n“Are you God?” Jeff asked the man dumbly, again. The man threw back his head and laughed deeply. A hearty laughter that made Jeff himself chuckle.\n\n“God, no,” the man paused, and thought for a split second, “A funny turn of phrase, given where we are.”\n\n“Well who are you?” Jeff asked. \n\n“If you keep walking, I promise I’ll tell you,” the man said, pointing forward.\n\n“Oh right,” Jeff winced, he looked over the man’s shoulder to continue apologizing to the rest of the line, but they all looked as projector-eyed as he had felt when he got here.\n\n“What’s your name,” he asked the new man, he was starting to like him, but supposed he had no real reason to. Jeff was better at making friends in death than he had been in life, apparently.\n\n“Well, my name is very long and tough to pronounce, but everyone I knew referred to me as Bub.” \n\n“Jeff,” Jeff replied, “Bub, huh? That sucks.”\n\n“Well we’re both dead now, so our names don’t really matter much anymore, so they say,” Bub said, still grinning warmly.\n\n“Oh, right,” Jeff groaned, and then he continued rather rudely, “How’d you die?”\n\nJeff didn’t notice the smile that left momentarily from Bub’s face, and returned almost as soon as it had gone. Bub told him the story.\n\n“Well, I never knew my mother, so I was forced to grow up faster than I wanted. Dad was a very powerful man. He could be wonderful, but oftentimes was very angry. One time, he had apparently gotten ‘sick of all my shit’,” Bub added air quotes here, “and threatened to kick me out of our home. I told him I was already planning on leaving, that me and my buddies were going to get a place of our own, so I didn’t have to live by his bullshit rules. Then he said I was disrespecting his authority and got even more mad. It was a huge blowout fight. In the end, he got so mad that he put me underground.” Bub finished the story on an up note, to prove that he wasn’t really that pissed about being sent to the afterlife by his father. \n\n“Holy shit,” Jeff said, not quite as under his breath as he had hoped, “That really puts my story to shame.”\n\n“I’d love to hear it,” Bub replied, “We do have quite a ways to go, and I’d rather not be stuck with my OWN thoughts for the rest of it.”\n\n“Alright,” Jeff said gladly, ever eager to listen to himself speak. “See, i was doing a delivery for this non-profit in San Francisco. It was a homeless kitchen that pre-made meals for drivers like me to go out and find hobos and drop them off. MY dad was a real prick too, he was old money, but said I wasn’t allowed to have any inheritance until I ‘proved my worth to the world’. I helped build houses in Haiti after the hurricane, but that wasn’t good enough. I administered vaccines in the Congo, but THAT wasn’t good enough. So now I was delivering Tupperware on a moped to the seediest parts of San Fran. I was dreaming about what I would do with the money once I was finally cut in, when I got clipped by a trolley.”\n\nBub seemed impressed, when Jeff finished, he said, “Wow, it’s not every day someone dies in a trolley accident.” \n\n“Yeah, aren’t I lucky,” Jeff remarked glumly. The story must have taken longer than he had anticipated, because he was now next in line. He watched the rather rotund black woman ahead of him waddle off through the cloud of white fog that hovered everywhere adjacent to the line.\n\nJeff stepped forward, and before he could say anything, the man with the long, flowing beard behind the desk began speaking, “Welcome to Heaven, my name is Peter. Before one enters Heaven, one is required to be checked in off my list and given a quick recap and questionnaire of one’s life, up to one’s death, to make sure there isn’t anyone here who is uninvited.” Peter said the last word with a venom that took Jeff aback. \n\n“Uh, okay,” Jeff once again said dumbly.\n\n“Name?” Asked Peter, the Receptionist.\n\n“Jeffrey Armand Remmer.” \n\n“Hm.” Peter frowned.\n\n“Date of Birth?”\n\n“December 3rd, 1985.” Now Jeff was confused.\n\n“I don’t see....anywhere...just a moment.” Peter looked disturbed at this, left his seat, and wandered off through the cloud. Now Jeff was really getting worried. He turned to Bub. \n\n“What’s going on?”\n\nBub just smiled, warmly still, at Jeff and put an arm around him, “Oh I may have....*fudged the numbers* a bit for you.”\n\n“What the hell?” Panic was starting to set into the back of Jeff’s mind. He tried to pull away, but Bub now had an arm on both shoulders, holding Jeff stronger than his form should have been able to. Beneath the glasses, Jeff finally noticed Bub’s eyes shining brighter than ever before. \n\n“Exactly. And we have some plans for you.” And with that quip, and a puff of reddish-purple smoke, they were gone. \n\nPeter returned to the desk, shaking his head as if he had been hallucinating. The line stepped forward into the empty place.",
"\"Dolly Shephard, D-O-L-L-Y.\" Upon telling the clerk her name for the upteanth time, Dolly became visibly irritated.\n\n\"I am afraid I can't find your file anywhere. Neither in the living database nor in the deceased database.\" The clerk corrected his glasses on his ashen white nose. \"How do you spell your name again?\"\n\nDolly uncrossed her arms and slammed both her palms on the desk. \"Enough, this is not going anywhere. Call your higher-ups. I am sick of this play.\"\n\nThe clerk shrieked back at that sudden act of aggression. Usually, when the deceased came here they would be as timid as tiny lambs. Being at the gate of your maker's home activated instincts deeply rooted in their souls to have them obey and behave.\n\nHe thought if eyes could pierce then Dolly's would poke holes in him. To avoid eye contact the clerk lowered his head and dialed the number of his superior on the phone.\n\n\"Pl-please wait a moment. I have called someone who should be here any moment to resolve this issue.\"\n\nSatisfied, Dolly returned to her initial stance and crossed her arms once more. \"About time. I can't wait to find out what happened. One moment I was leaving a cafe, the next I see your ugly face.\"\n\nThe white hall devoid of anything but a reception and a restless pair was consuming the silence making it its own. With a creek a door opened and broke the tense atmosphere as a man clad in white appeared.\n\n\"What is going on here?\" The man asked.\n\n Straightening himself, the clerk responded swiftly, \"Sir Gabriel, this lady here recently lost her life but her files were nowhere to be found in any of the databases.\"\n\nGabriel eyed Dolly carefully. \"Have you looked up her parents?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. They were both listed as living. Her mother, however, only listed two people as her offspring and would lead to this lady's siblings. The father additionally had another offspring whose hyperlink would return an error.\"\n\n\"Wait, wait, wait! Are you saying my mother wasn't actually my birth mother? For as long as I can remember she was there for me! This can't be!\" Dolly broke down on her feet. Tears appeared on the edges of her eyes.\n\n\"Interesting.\" Gabriel lay a hand on Dolly's head. His eyes lightened up in a bright white. Dolly fell flat on the ground, she lay there unconsciously. \"It appears this child is not of Father's making. How could a mortal have imitated one of Father's creations so well? Daniel, tell me the name of this child's maker.\"\n\n\n\n",
"\"No record? How is that possible?\" \n\"We're not entirely sure.\"\n\n\"Actually... There are 3 reasons you wouldn't have a record. You likely won't like one of the three.\"\n\nThe receptionist looked up at the manager in disbelief. \n\n\"You would either be an angel that was incarnated on the earth, you could be a separate lifeform altogether, or, and this is the one you will likely like the least, You never truly existed to begin with.\"\n\n\"Well which is it?!\"\n\n\"There's only one way to find out...\" Said the Manager.\n\n\"... Deirae isn't going to cooperate...\" The receptionist said quietly, balling her hands into a tight fist.\n\n\"Deirae is the name we use to refer to what you may know as the Grim Reaper or Death, just so you know. We're going to have to go and visit if we want to figure out which reason it is. Otherwise you'll be stuck in the lobby here or sent to a separate realm parallel to the one you should be in.\"\n\n​\n\nI stared at the floor for only a few seconds before looking the Manager in the eyes with a ferocity only few have seen from me. My voice was lower and a bit more grave than previously.\n\n\"Looks like we're going then. Doesn't it?\"",
"A tight pain formed in my chest, as I urged my self to breathe, and to calm down. Looking at the manager, I asked her what could have happened to it. \n\n\"We aren't sure,\" she said in a nervous manner, \"We'll be right on it.\"\n\nThey left. They were gone for three hours. \n\nA man walked into the room. He seemed to be emitting some sort of energy. Dark energy. \n\n\"Look kid, we never got your file. Simple as that. So what I'm going to have to do is either let you into the afterlife without any records, which isn't typically allowed, or I have to resurrect you. But today, I have an offer,\" he said as he held out his hand, a blue fire flickering inches above it, \"I can send you back. I can send you back with infinite power, and there you'll do something for me.\"\n\n\"What kinds of power?\" I asked.\n\n\"Basically, you get to grant yourself and others powers that do or don't exist already. And for what you're gonna do for me, you need to stop a very powerful person. You'll need a team. Afterwards, you can do anything you want with your power. Including visiting any realm. Even this one.\" he said, gesturing for me to shake his hand as the fire enveloped it.\n\n\"Deal\" I said, gripping the hand, flames engulfing my body, feeling the same tight pain form in my chest, as I collapsed to my knees. In the seconds I was on the ground, I saw everything. Light. Dark. Pain. Ecstasy. And I realized who I had just made a deal with. The man we called the Devil.",
"I found myself in a long line. I am not aware how I how a got here but with this many people, it must be important. When I got to the front of the queue, I saw that the counter wasn't unlike a bank, with multiple tellers assisting people. The third receptionist from the left called out for me.\n\n\"Name please.\" Said the teller\n\"David Sanders.\n\"Thank you, sir. One moment.\"\n\"Wait miss, I don't understand why I am here.\"\n\"That's quite normal, it will be clear in a moment.\"\n\nShe got up from her desk and went into a back room. Before the door closed, I thought I saw a small pair wings on her back.\n\nWhile she was gone, I watch the other tellers. I started to understand the process. A winged lady asks for a name, brushes off any question, goes to the back room, return with a file and escorts them to a side room with the file before returning to her seat to call up the next person. \n\nThis process repeated 4-5 times for the other desks before my receptionist returned with not a file but a large man with 6 huge wings. Everyone in the room couldn't help but stare in silence at the glory of this being. \n\n\"Mr. Sander don't be afraid, I am Michael and run things around here. I need you to follow me.\" His voice boomed as he lead to a side room.\n\nMichael peaked into the room and asked the man seating in the room to leave. Micheal takes his seat, his wings awkwardly hanging around the chair. He gestures me to sit across from him. \n\n\"David you are dead. The decrease come here to before they go on the Afterlife. My angels discuss your life and final moments with you, to work through any regrets you may have. \n\n\"I won't beat around the bush here, Mr. Sanders. We don't have your death file. Your life file is here.\" He tosses a folder until the table. \"Make no mistake, you are dead, and it seems you lived a full life with many grandchildren but we can't discuss your death with you.\"\n\n\"That is perfectly ok, just sent me on. I am not terribly interested in my death.\"\n\nMichael puts his elbows on the table, crosses his hands and leads forward. \"Let me clarify, after you leave this room, you will be judged by the Creator. You will go the heaven or be udderly destroyed. You are missing information, you will be playing with a handicap. Sure your life was great and you managed to skip over the Void but alot can happen in one's last few minutes.\"\n\nI lean back, understanding the weight of the situation, I don't want to deal with this. \"What is this Void?\" I said trying to avoid this problem.\n\n\"Not everyone accepts death like you. Unruly and unsure souls spend time in the Void to tire themselves out. Once they are accepting of this death, they come here. The Void is a lawless and violent place. It's not uncommon for worst to spent centuries thrashing about. It is truly better for them to be destroyed.\"\n\n\"Sounds awful\"\n\n\"Indeed, now back to your case. You have two options. Go forward with your judgement or, since my department can't find your file, I am prepared to offer you a place here. You can help the angels find files in the back.\"\n\nI weighed my two options, and decided on a third choice.\"I fear I am not cut out for bookkeeping and facing judgement half-heartedly sounds like a bad idea. Also, I can't get my thoughts off of the folks suffering in the Void, they just need some guidance. Can't you help them?\"\n\n\"Angels are forbidden to enter the Void.\"\n\n\"Then let me go. I couldn't just sit around here knowing people are needing some help.\"\n\nMichael studied my face for a few moments and said \"Very well, nothing I can say can prepare you for this but it seems nothing will stop you either. Don't regret this, I would hate to see you ending up being destroyed.\" \n\nThe room disappeared and was replaced with a hellish landscape. I spent many years trying to talk people into moving on, however some people needed more than words. I got bloodied up countless times. I found that wearing a black robe and carrying a scythe helps convince people to take more patient course of action. Of course, once people gave me the name \"reaper\", it sped up the progress a bit. I will guide everyone in the Void to the next step of life, for better or worse.",
"I am dead, and apparently I don’t exist.\n\n“I am talking to you right now. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t died. How can there be no record for me?”\n\n“Well you see…” the manager was short and round, and somehow mouse-like “there are a number of things that could have gone wrong. Not that we see a case like yours every day, but there’s been a few here and there. Thing is, I’m not sure you’re dead.”\n\n“What do you mean?”\n\n“A few centuries ago we had a gentleman about your age ascend. Monk, from Japan. I was on duty that day. He looked an awful lot like you..”\n\n“I’m Irish-American.”\n\n“That’s not what I mean. Old chap wasn’t all there, same’s is true for you, make of that what you will. Sat in a cave eating roots and meditating until he went, or at least that’s what our staff on the ground thought..\" he sighed \"..initially.”\n\n“I definitely didn’t do that..” it began to dawn on me..\n\n“I had the guys give me the run-down of your last few years. Tough one, gotta admit I don’t always go with the times but I’m pretty sure I figured it out.”\n\nI died in a hospital. Fairly close to my home. They must have come for me quickly…\n\n“Indeed – not all here yet. We don’t have a procedure for your type yet. Cryonics – we should really come up with a process for that one..”.\n\nHe walked away, shaking his head.\n\nThe receptionist smiled at me: “Sir, please take a seat in the waiting room. This might take a while.”",
"\"Nothing?\", I managed to blurt out as the manager stared at me with a look that seemed to combine sadness and surprise, indicating that this wasn't exactly an everyday case.\n\nAnd if I hadn't been terrified before, now I was.\n\n\"Did you check everywhere? Could it be under someone else's name, another Chris Herley, stuck in the filing cabinet, fallen to the floor?\"\n\n\"I assure you sir, we looked everywhere but there was nothing found under your name. I apologize.\"\n\nI stared back at the manager, then glanced at the infinite line behind me, realizing that everyone else unlike me would just get their file, see how their life ended and be able to move on from the waiting room into the afterlife, and in a moment of frustration, I slammed my hands against the counter - except instead of hitting the counter, my hands just fell through it.\n\nI could hear an audible gasp in front of me, as the manager looked at me in shock, finger pointing right at me and suddenly a loud, low voice filled the whole, infinite room.\n\n\"You do not belong here.\"\n\nI stared at the manager in disbelief, even more scared, but for different reasons now. I had already died, how much more I needed to go through today?\n\n\"Well let me out of here then\", I managed to cry out, the panic spreading through my body like an electric shock.\n\nThe clerk next to the manager opened her mouth for the first time since going to get the manager, her tone sad and apologetic.\n\n\"I'm afraid we can't do that sir. Follow me, please.\"\n\nI don't know how I managed to move my legs, but I curved around the counter, where the clerk had opened up a door for me. Inside, I saw another waiting room, but this time instead of an infinite line, I saw an infinite amount of chairs and to my surprise - more people.\n\n\"What is this place?\", I asked the clerk who gave me another apologetic smile.\n\n\"It's a waiting room for people who haven't died yet\", she replied before quickly disappearing to the other side of the door, and before I could react, I heard it lock behind me.\n\nI tried to bang on the door, I tried to kick it but my feet and hands just fell through it, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't make my whole body slide through the door and I screamed for them to open the door until my voice started to fade.\n\nI then turned my attention to the other people in the room, there were hundreds, thousands of them and by looking at them more closely, I saw the agony. One was shaking on the floor in a fetus position, one was slowly banging their head on the wall and one was sitting on a chair staring blankly ahead, no emotions on their face as I approached them.\n\n\"What is happening here?\", I tried to ask them but I got no response, even though I could see their lips moving. I waved my hand in front of them, trying to get a reaction but they didn't even blink.\n\nI went to the others as well, tried to make them say something, try to get an idea about what was going on but all they did was move their lips without no sound coming through. \n\nI them went back to the first person and put my ear right next to their mouth, and to my surprise I could now hear the words.\n\n\"Let me go.\"\n\n\"Let me go.\"\n\n\"Let me go.\"\n\nRepeated over and over and over again, until their voices had given out and barely any sound could be heard anymore.\n\nI was confused, I was scared and I turned back to the door, and for the first time I noticed a small television on the corner of the room.\n\nI walked up to it and saw a person on a hospital bed, plugged into machines that kept them alive artificially, grieving people gathered around the bed, crying on their hands.\n\nAnd to my horror, I noticed the text running across the bottom of the screen:\n\nChris Herley, 24, Wounded in a school shooting by a bullet to the head. In a coma, kept alive artificially by the wish of the family, chances for a recovery nearly non-existent.\n\nI stared at the people in the room, I stared at the locked door between me and a peaceful afterlife, and I stared at the screen and as I watched my family cry around me, the words escaped my lips:\n\n\"Let me go.\"",
"\"What?\" I say, almost yelling in astonishment.\n\n\"Like I said, no record. This is, a little worrying, hold on let me get someone to help...\" The manager said, turning around and running out of the back door.\n\n\"Where the fuck is he going? Goddammit, I live my whole life to then die and not get to know how?! This is bullshit...\" I mutter, pacing back and forth.\n\n\"You might want to be prepared for this, I'm told this is gonna be serious.\"\n\n\"Wh- oh holy shit.\"\n\nThe manager walks back into the building with another person. He was tall, and big, which was the first thing I noticed. He wore a fancy dark red suit and an upside down cross necklace. His black hair and piercing red eyes commanded respect.\n\n\"Okay, what's this you speak about. Quickly, I will be busy.\" The new man spoke, his deep voice ringing easily through the hall.\n\n\"We don't have a death record for this guy.\" The manager said.\n\nThe other man slowly rubbed his forehead with his gloved hand. \"Jesus you people, not this shit again...\" He continued.\n\n\"Uhh, if you don't mind my asking, who are you?\" I asked.\n\n\"Oh, terribly sorry I forgot to introduce myself. I am, well, I am Lucifer, but for the better, just call me Satan. My colleagues seem to have somehow lost your record. Ill get that sorted out as soon as possible.\"\n\nI couldn't believe it. Satan, or Lucifer, or the devil, was real.\n\n\"Well, what's gonna happen?\" I inquired.\n\n\"I've actually wanted to try this out for a while... Just stay still, this may burn for a second.\" Lucifer said as he bent down to my level and stared into my eyes. It did kinda burn, but not too badly.\n\n\"Death is not gonna like this...\" I briefly heard the manager mention before my vision faded.\n\nI awoke in my bed, the same bed I had awoken in many times.\n\n*Weird dream...* I think, scratching my head.\n\nExcept there was one problem. It couldn't have been a dream, it felt too real.\n\n*What was he talking about, \"I've been wanting to try this...* I thought to myself as I make my way to the mirror. Another problem is evident.\n\nThere was a pentagram under my eye."
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[WP] When a person dies, their soul is transferred to a new born. Trouble is, overpopulation means we've just run out of souls.
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"The chair I'm sitting on is cold but I'm sweating. Much more than I should, If I'm being honest. I can see and feel the sweat patches growing underneath my shirt but I ignore it. My attention is primarily directed to the panel of questioners sitting on a raised platform, all looking down on me. Raised heads, flared nostrils and contempt in their eyes. One would think I personally offended them. I dab my forehead to dry the sweat forming on it. My hands are shaking. I guess it is warranted. No one ever delivers devastating news without shaking. The world government have chosen five questioners to interview me and see if I am jail-worthy. I hope not. I recognise the familiar faces of Questioner Judy, Sir Mark Bradford and Questioner Mara. I have watched them on the holodeck a few times during my breaks at the office when I was still there. There is someone who looks like Questioner Leyton but I can't be too sure. I don't recognise the last questioner, though they looked remarkably young to be sitting there.\n\nBehind me, there are rows and rows of journalists and reporters, with their cameras trained on me. I can't help but think about their headlines tomorrow. Some of them will most likely mock me, with my profuse sweating and my damp clothes. Regardless, that is inconsequential. I glance at the glass of water in front of me, resting on the table along with some of the files I have been working on. I inhale and then exhale heavily.\n\n\"For the record, I am going to confirm that you have consented to be recorded for the entirety of this questioning as well as retention of said recording for a minimum duration of five years. Is that correct?\" one of the aides of the Questioners say to me, standing just underneath the platform of her bosses. There's a chair behind her, as well as a table with a computer on it.\n\nI nod.\n\n\"Please say it out loud, Mr Devram,\" the woman repeats.\n\n\"It is right. I agree to the conditions.\"\n\n\"Thank you. Recording has now begun and I shall leave it to the Questioners to take it from here,\" she says before taking her seat.\n\n\\---\n\n\"Mr Devram. You have been called in today to answer to the incident that occurred in the Saint Matthew Institute, three months ago, for which you have been charged with inciting genocide. This is a grave offense for which you will be sentenced if we decide you are dangerous to society. The record I have here says you released a missive or thesis, as you may believe it is called regarding the extermination of everyone born post 2155. You were subsequently fired from your job as a Bio-Etherialist. Am I right so far?\" one of the questioners, Sir Mark Bradford, asked, sitting slightly to the right in front me.\n\n\"It is true,\" I reply.\n\n\"After that, as the news cycle began to record some deaths, you began to preach your thesis more and more to any available ear, claiming that it is proof for the deaths?\" the questioner continues.\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"Can you explain why?\"\n\n\"To explain, I will have to go into my field as a Bio-Etherialist. Is that okay?\" I stammer a question towards the questioners and they all nod.\n\nI clear my throat and calm my nerves before continuing.\n\n\"Bio-Etherialism is the field of study that got born out of the spiritual boom of 2099, where some scientists found quantifiable evidence of the soul, or soul property that exists within all humans. While it is still not a popularly held position, all living beings possess some sort of soul identity which is given to it at the moment of the being's awareness.\"\n\n\"Awareness meaning birth,\" another questioner says. She was directly in front of me.\n\n\"Negative. Awareness meaning awareness, Questioner Judy. A fetus gets aware a few weeks into pregnancy and while it might not have opened its eyes yet or cried yet, it has some form of awareness.\"\n\n\"Understood. Continue,\" she says with a nod.\n\n\"Among my field of studies and within my group, we held the majority belief that beings without a soul property are not alive, and we had some evidence to corroborate this,\" I continue my explanation before seeing one of the male questioners raise their hand. I believe that is Questioner Leyton but I am unsure.\n\n\"What kind of evidence did you have?\" the questioner asks.\n\n\"Stillbirths, mostly. Miscarriages. The research a colleague of mine did made claims to the latter being a result of a soul rich body denying the soul-less body from developing any further and thus, forcing a termination of the pregnancy.\"\n\n\"And what is the name of your colleague?\" the questioner asks again.\n\n\"Matthias Jameson.\"\n\nI extend my hand towards the glass of water on the table in front of me and I take a small sip to wet my throat. The woman sitting in front of me seems to be taking notes. There is a sense of calm I'm feeling, and I'm unsure if it's because I am finally explaining my thesis or if I have just given up in the face of everything.\n\n\"My thesis is based on a research I began with another colleague of mine, Anna Dryar. We sought to see if there was any case of people being born without a soul property, if it was possible and what it could mean. We, of course, strove to ensure all ethical practices were held in the process. We couldn't test with pregnant women as there would be no way to have a controlled test. So we instead build a fetus in the lab and then utilised an incubator for the final processes. At awareness level, for the twenty case we began, nothing happened. Whatever stimuli they had been exhibiting before then ceased.\"\n\n\"Meaning?\" Questioner Catherine asks.\n\n\"They all died,\" I respond.\n\n\\[Continued below\\]"
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[WP] The hero is bleeding from their gut. The villain has a gash across their neck. Together, in their final moments, they reminisce of the times before they became the super powered beings they are now
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"\"Braith...\" Aldous's voice was shallow and raspy as he tried calling out to the slumped figure a few feet from him. \"Braith?\"\n\nHe clutched at his stomach, gritting against the pain, and dragged himself bodily towards her. She hadn't moved since she got hit. He'd seen her walk away from some pretty serious injuries in the past, but this looked far worse than anything she'd ever before endured. And that was a lot of blood around her. Whether it was hers or not didn't really matter. Not right then, at least.\n\n\"Braith!\" His voice rose to an almost-shout, and still she didn't move.\n\nHe grabbed her by the shoulder and rolled her toward him. She felt heavy, too heavy. Her head rolled to the side, her brown hair falling out of the way, to reveal a deep gash in her neck, straight down to the bone, a huge chunk of muscle missing. Aldous's stomach dropped through the floor.\n\n\"No.\" He pulled her head into his lap and struggled with trying to figure out how to help. He wanted to apply pressure to the wound, but he was afraid that would only make things worse. If he stopped the bleeding, then he'd just be choking her. \"No, no, no, no, no!\" Her head lolled to the side, a bit more blood leaking out of the wound, mixing with his own. \"*No*!\"\n\nAnd then, for whatever reason, she breathed. Her eyes fluttered open and she coughed. She lurched forward to a seated position, nearly knocking Aldous over. Her thin frame was racked by a coughing fit that should've sent even more blood spewing about the room. But as far as Aldous could tell, the rest of her blood seemed to want to stay inside of her.\n\n\"Braith...?\" He said, his voice still shallow.\n\nShe coughed once more before turning to face him, twisting her upper body and flashing the garish cut on her neck to him once more. It was already significantly smaller than before, less than half the size, the muscle rebuilding itself in a clearly magical feat. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, hunched over and covered in his blood.\n\n\"Aldous, what are you--?\" Her question was cut off when Aldous fell over, collapsing in the slowly growing puddle of their collective blood. \"Shit, Aldous!\" Braith slid over to him, right through the puddle, reaching his side with a fear she rarely displayed. She forced him onto his back and inspected the laceration across his abdomen. Based on her reaction, he knew it was bad. He could already feel the magic flowing from her fingertips into his destroyed flesh. \"You stupid, stupid man.\"\n\nAldous stared at her neck which had resealed entirely, like it had never happened at all. The only evidence of her injury being the stain left behind by the blood. There wasn't even a scar. He reached a bloodied hand up to her neck and rubbed a thumb across the smooth, untouched surface. Her magic stuttered at his touch, and she shot him an apprehensive glance.\n\n\"I told you. I had it,\" she said aggressively before again turning her attention to the hole where his gut once was.\n\n\"How...?\" He managed to get out, his strength still far and away, even with her aid.\n\nHer eyes flashed to him, his hand not having moved from where her injury was moments before. \"Fucker used a blade that I enchanted.\" She looked past Aldous toward their fallen opponent. \"It can't hurt me. Not for long at least.\" Her face dropped as she looked at his abdomen again. \"You, on the other hand...\"\n\nAldous laughed lightly, the effort hurting more than he thought it would. \"I don't think you've worried about me this much since we were kids.\" His voice was weak, barely above a whisper, but he knew she'd heard him. She always heard him.\n\n\"You're still as stupid as you were then,\" she answered.\n\nHe smiled calmly. \"You remember the time we tried to find the Sword of Wyldryn?\"\n\n\"You mean the time you dragged me through the Whispering Woods for a day and a half before we got attacked by a fucking manticore?\" She scoffed. \"How could I forget?\"\n\n\"That was the first time I'd ever left the orphanage.\" Aldous watched her clench her jaw, her fingers twitched slightly over his wound. \"Would've been the last time, too, if you didn't distract it.\"\n\n\"Yeah, well, I couldn't just go back alone. Can you imagine what Sister Angeline would've done if I came back without you?\"\n\n\"Probably not much worse than what she did when you stole her locket.\" Aldous chuckled lightly, his strength starting to return to his limbs.\n\n\"*You* dared me to do that, you bastard.\"\n\n\"Pretty sure I only said you wouldn't do it since it was too risky.\"\n\n\"If that's not a dare, I don't know what is.\"\n\nAldous laughed heartily, an mistake made evident when pain shot through his abdomen. He arched his back in pain, grinding his teeth against his wail of pain that was threatening to burst from his chest. Braith jerked slightly, trying to keep hold of whatever magic she was using to fix him up.\n\n\"Damn it, Aldous,\" She grumbled, regaining control over her magic. \"You can't make anything easy, can you?\"\n\nHe smiled lightly, a soothing feeling spreading out from his wound. \"Not if I can help it.\"\n\nBraith simply shook her head in response. Her eyes flashed white as she began to focus more, the action alone telling Aldous he was far worse off than he thought, or she was willing to let on. He could feel a blooming sensation in his gut, something he wasn't particularly ready for, and he arched his back. Only this time, Braith expected it, and adjusted accordingly. Aldous's muscles tensed all at once, and he groaned out in pain and discomfort. Braith seemingly completely unaware to his distress continued with whatever magic she was using to rapid heal his abdomen. Eventually, the white disappeared from her eyes, and Aldous sagged back to the ground.\n\nHe stared up at his old friend and life-long adversary. A look of determination had set deeply into her features as she fretted over his well-being for the first time in decades. That thought alone left Aldous with an overwhelmingly somber feeling.\n\n\"What happened to us, Braith?\" He asked, finally.\n\nHer eyes darted to his, the look a mixture of anger, hurt, remorse, and sorrow. \"A lot, Aldous.\" She turned her attention back to his wound, determination taking her over again, though this time he suspected she was determined to not let her emotions get the best of her. \"A whole lot.\""
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[WP] You are a D&D character favored by your player. After many campaigns and adventures you fatefully roll a natural 20 in perception and become self aware and learn your world is pen and paper. You’re abilities to effect the real world are unknown but you know you must escape your parchment prison
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"I was sitting around the campfire with the rest of my party, reminiscing all our past adventures. The steady winds of the fields of Amphisbaena blew bristly through our camp site with a cold chill, an ever constant reminder of the unforgiving nature of these Realms. Of the unforgiving nature of the Tyrant. This world had been a tough one, with countless obstacles, enemies, and Gods to face, but we all knew, by this point, they weren't the real Gods. This realm had no such thing as a God -- no, rather, there was an entire plane of beings that manipulated the Realms to their liking. The realm of the Old Gods.\n\n\"Hey, Julius, do remember when you got your Sin?\" asked Samantha, journal in her lap, pen in her hand. Her twin sister Lyanna was already asleep, as usual, but I had a feeling she'd be able to listen anyways. Just as we all had learned to listen.\n\n\"Well, uh, I'm not sure if I really want to go into it... you have yours, after all, why can't that be enough for your journal?\"\n\n\"You know me by now, Julius. *No knowledge is forbidden*, et cetera. I've told you numerous times about the Book on the Pedestal.\"\n\nI heard the voice above call out, repeating the title of this book, and explaining: \"Alright Julius, the Book on the Pedestal is the ancient Halfling legend of one *Andrew Hathet*, who pursued knowledge so fiercely the family recorded an encounter of his with a book on a pedestal that possessed him. I should've really had you roll a History check for this first, but I would've reminded you anyways, so it's fine.\"\n\n\"Alright, yeah, I remember,\" I said.\n\n\"That's a lie. My Old God said he heard yours explaining it to you.\"\n\n\"Either way, I get what you mean.\" I pause for a while, remembering the events that had led us here... the events that led to us becoming this attuned to the Gods above. And I recalled a memory I should have repressed. Permanently.\n\n\"It was, uh... Lokhar. Err, Jeremy. Whichever you'd prefer to call him. When he had us separated, I guess I just... connected. If that makes any sense.\"\n\n\"I can see you're hesitant. Think about it some more, and maybe you can tell me later?\" she asked with a smile on her face. The smile that had worn through flame and through flood, through tragedy and celebration. And I felt an urge rise up in myself to leave, flee this place, and think. Like she instructed.\n\nI stand up swiftly. \"Yeah. I'll go see if I can get Thorik. He's probably out there somewhere just listening to the winds.\"\n\n\"Sounds like a fun time. Don't wander too far. We both remember what happened last time!\" she said, smile slowly fading, as she began to focus on her journal again. And, yes... I did remember. But I wanted nothing more than to forget.\n\nAs I walked around the tents, I felt my pace quicken. A swift walk turned into a jog, which turned into a run, which turned into a sprint. I only stopped when I ran out of breath... that is to say, I gained a level of Exhaustion.\n\nAnd, out, far away from them, I felt free to remember.\n\nThe memories came to me in a flood. I could feel the Old God without struggling to recall all that had happened, but in the end, it was simple. In my previous life, the timeline the Old Gods decided would be better if it was reset, I died before I had ever met my purpose. But now, here, on the edge of the world, the final day before annihilation, I remember.\n\nIt was in the dungeon of that Unbound fool, Lokhar. Turning Unbound led him to believe he knew everything, as all Unbound seem to think. And, I concluded, a major theme of this adventure must've been knowledge... that perhaps, it was as much a blessing as a curse. My Old God had expressed with me numerous times how he fully expected for Samantha to turn Unbound as well, as she had in the previous timeline... but he never gave her the opportunity. Not yet.\n\nAnd I ventured into that dungeon with the rest of them, but Lokhar was smarter than to let us tackle the challenges together. He isolated us, forced us to do things alone. This was a major shakeup... we had been a full party up until now, five, sometimes six members, against the whole world. And now, forced to do things on our own, we were not prepared. I don't think any of us left that dungeon unchanged. For better, or worse.\n\nI remember how I had accomplished many of the challenges. Teleported into rooms where I was forced to figure out the solution, or die. There was no time limit... not like the time seemed to matter, anyways. And I had finished his gauntlet of challenges, but he still tortured me. Inside my head, like a kind of telepathy, he was always there.\n\n\"Do you remember what you ate for breakfast this morning? Or who your grandparents were? Any cousins, and their names? What about your birthday? You might know how old you are, but have you ever celebrated a birthday? Tell me, Julius.\"\n\n\"No, Jeremy. The answer to all of those questions is 'No.' What do you want from me?\"\n\n\"I want you to see, Julius. I want you to see, like I have. Into the Void, past the Void. Into the Tyrant himself, like I so know you can. For he's the one you bow to.\"\n\n*Roll a perception check.*\n\n**Natural 20.**\n\n\"You see it now, Julius, don't you? This is just a game. Don't you feel more *real* than just pen and paper? Isn't there something more, now, something beyond, like a third eye, peering into another world, filled to the brim with the wondrous flesh of reality? Wouldn't you like to taste it? To grab hold, and control it?\"\n\n*You're all teleported into a room with the rest of the party. Each of you is there, including Julius, looking more frightened than usual... at least, that you can tell, behind his mask. Roll initiative. Jeremy, or uh, Lokhar, will go first, as he gets surprise on you all.*\n\n\"Isn't that right, Julius? Or, are you just another NPC? Like me? Controlled by the Tyrant, just for fun? You know you are, Julius. You can feel it, deep inside. This connection, we share, it's maintained by him. And, no matter how much you wish you could change it, you and I? We're not so different after all.\"\n\n\"I'm not even close to you, Jeremy. We may both share the Tyrant as an Old God, but that doesn't mean I have to be one of his evil creations. We both know what's going to happen here today, Jeremy. I'm leaving this dungeon intact, and you're leaving this dungeon as a soul going screaming back to the Void.\"\n\n\"As the Tyrant wills it, so it is! But you *see* now. And that's all that matters, to me.\"\n\nBut, as I remember it, this hasn't happened yet. It's not guaranteed to happen at all. Perhaps, like the last timeline, I'll die in order to protect the other members, as my Old God has thought about all this time since that fateful day. And, sitting here, telling this story, makes me wonder... what do our effects really change about the world we inhabit, if it's told in advance, like this story? I can only wonder. I still have to wait until January until we start the next version of the timeline anyways. And, until then, I'll have all the time in the world.",
"The blast knocked Palanas backwards, and his head hit the cold stones of the floor with a crack that left his vision blurry. No, he realized grimly, that was blood from the creature's blade. \n\nThings were not going well. \n\nHe brushed his hood back, struggling against a wave of nausea as he attempted to rise. The best his insouciant insides would permit was a cross between sitting and squatting. Slowly, he surveyed the scene. \n\nThe deep indigo aura was still surrounding The Lord of Death. None of their attacks had been successful while the unholy shield was protecting him. Krong attempted another blow with his two-headed axe, and for a moment the shriek from their enemy gave Palanas hope. Then he realized that the chilling sound was just the closest this once-human creature could come to laughing, as a tendril of fire snaked up from the floor and wrapped around Krong's leg, yanking him backwards.\n\nLady Aralana was hanging back, her Bow of Divine Truth having been snapped in two by one of the early attacks of the arch-lich. Palanas looked at Marynn, who was chanting, but he could see the six-pointed star hanging around her neck flickering. \n\nLyran Lightfoot was nowhere to be seen, but what good would an attack from the shadows do against an invulnerable enemy? \n\n*We are dying,* Palanas thought. Then, a moment later: *No. So long as that globe continues to protect him, we are dead.*\n\nThe young mage's brow creased. *There must be something...* Glowing sigils danced through his mind, as he strained to think of something, *anything*, that might save the situation. \n\nHis eyes fell on their foe's throne. As one of Lady Aralana's throwing knives bounced harmlessly off the pulsing shield of energy surrounding the Lord of Death, Palanas gasped. Realization washed over him, stronger than the avalanche that had nearly ended them on Mount Kullox. \n\n*The throne.*\n\nPalanas stared. Something between him and the carved-bone seat at the far end of the room seemed to shimmer, distorting his vision.\n\n*What we are seeing is not the Guardian of Kullox Keep. It is an illusion. He is commanding from the darkness, invisible. We are fighting our own imaginations.* \n\nThe young man began to shake his head. *No...not ours. His?* His copper-ringed eyes darted around the room. For a moment, a thrill of panic shook him, as he saw the creature's power was somehow compelling Krong to turn on his companions. \n\n*He has no control. None of us do.*\n\nWith a jolt of pain, he forced himself to his feet. \n\n*None of this is in our control. We are pawns, and our lives are petty amusement for callous, apathetic beings.*\n\nThe shrill cry from the creature came again. Lyran had emerged from hiding to slice at the calf of one of Krong's legs.\n\n*We're fighting each other. He has won. But no - he has lost. None of us is fighting the true enemy.*\n\nHe staggered across the room, ignored by The Lord of Death, whose flesh-less face was clearly grinning as Krong swung out at Lyran, overbalancing on his good leg and falling to the ground. \n\n*They are not apathetic. It is worse than that. Our misery is their joy. They want us to suffer.* \n\nPalanas stood before the throne, could feel the chill malice radiating from it. \n\n*Is this part of it? Aware as I am, do I have any power to control it? To choose my own fate?* \n\nHe began the siphoning incantation. It would likely kill him, to attempt to absorb this much magical power, especially in his weakened state. \n\n*Would that be so bad? To die? Would it not be worse to live, knowing nothing mattered? That none of my life - none of it - has been within my control?*\n\nHe barely registered the pain as the spiral bone-spear pierced his chest and the icy sensation began to surge from it, entering his veins. \n\n*It does not matter, now. It never did.* \n\nHis vision went dim. The sounds of his companions screaming began to fall away. Still, he kept chanting. Another kind of cloak, black and cold as the void, began to fall over him.\n\nSuddenly, a burning heat raced through his body, chasing away the chill. The strange, hazy idea that nearly losing his body somehow made it easier to withstand the flood of sheer power that hit him, that it was too much for such a crude vessel to handle. \n\nHis vision returned, and Palanas tried to grin, but realized he had no mouth. His body lay on the floor. *That* Palanas - the mortal one - was dead. \n\n*It doesn't matter. Nothing does.* \n\nHe focused his awareness on his companions. The old him would have wept at the sight. Lyran's throat was open to the ceiling, each burst of red liquid coming from it a little weaker than the previous one. Krong - still enthralled by the arch-lich - was kneeling above Marynn, hacking away at what was left of her torso. Lady Aralana was pinned under the skeletal form of the creature. It dragged a single bony finger across her armor and I could see it split. From the way she was screaming, I could tell my companion knew what awaited her. \n\n*Still...I do owe them something. Don't I? It may all be an illusion, but they still believe it.*\n\nThe geas was lifted from Krong and I could sense the desperation as he became aware of what he had done. The Lord of Death had begun the ritual by which he would claim Aralana as his immortal bride. And my other friends were dead. \n\n*This...all of this...was done to us. For sport.* \n\nWith a moment's concentration, I removed the arch-lich from existence. It took twice as long to restore my former companions to life, and heal the others of their wounds - physical and otherwise. I lingered long enough to see them take note of my corpse, and felt a distant tinge of remorse at their wailing.\n\n*So be it. That is the past.*\n\nI moved away, slipping into a gap between dimensions, ready to begin my search. \n\n*Now...to the future. And my revenge.*",
"Something snapped inside me. Like ears popping when jumping off a high ledge, except mind took the brunt of it. I was suddenly aware. My actions were not my own. I felt as if my memories belonged to someone else, that the scars I now bore were the result of someone else's actions.\n\n\"Well what do ya see ya fookin' elf\" grumbled Dwargon behind me.\n\nI looked back at my party. Were they actually who I knew them as, or the product of some malicious god-like being writing and speaking our doom from somewhere safe? I stared them down for a moment.\n\n\"Ye look like ye seent your mother havin' a good time with an orc\" Dwargon chuckled\n\nKlak-nor bopped him on the head, \"You take 2 damage\", I hear in my head. A god commanding other gods? My head began to spin.\n\n\"Now ya didn't have ta do that ya big'un\"\n\nSuddenly I realized our situation was even more dire than I had thought. A gelatinous cube slumped down from a crevice I had noticed, but my new revelation caused me to forget. From the other end of the hallway, a second cube hit the floor with a slap. Weaponry, armor, with dissolving skeletons floated throughout them.\n\n\"I cast magic missile!\" yelled a voice in my head. I cannot cast magic I thought to myself, as a magic missile shoots past my head and into one of the cubes, magical energy singing my hair.\n\n\"You see your magic hit the cube, but it looks to be unfazed.\"\n\nA mixture of frustration with the voices and fear of the cubes froze me. I realized we were trapped, in more ways than one. Then, time slowed.\n\n\"Roll for initiation... okay Brad, you go first.\" What kind of name for a god was Brad?\n\n\"I run at the cube in front of me with my Elven Curved Sword for a sneak attack!\"\n\nI feel my body moving on it's own, unsheathing the sword my father gave me and rushing forward. Sneak attack?! I'm running directly at a giant monster in front of me! As my legs move forward towards my doom, I cursed god-Brad.\n\n\"Your sword gets stuck.\" My sword got stuck. \"But you see a shiny pendant near the outer edge of the cube.\"\n\nDon't do it. Don't you do it Brad.\n\n\"I reach in and grab it!\"\n\n\"Roll strength\" I hear a clatter, and a chorus of groans.\n\nI begin to feel a pull on my arm, then my shoulder, and before long my entire body was submerged in the cube. As I let out my final breath, I cursed the gods for their stupidity."
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[WP]make a hero who is a lone wolf. the catch? Their only power is to give other people powers
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"Another day, another town needing saving. It seemed everything out here was either running out of money or getting run over by bandits. There was little else that actually tourbled them. This town seemed as though it was dealing with bandits, so fixing them up wouldn't be too hard. As I made my way into the town squaare, I noticed that they had a hseriff's department, but not much else in terms of protection. The outer edges of the buildings were ransacked and burnt slightly from the riads they had, but the interior here was still perfectly safe.\n\nA few people were walking around the town, and I received many stares as I walked towards the central podium. This shouldn't take long, but it had always worked. I got up on the podium and began my grand speech.\n\n\"G'day to all of you fine folks in this little town. I see you are all dealing with some bandit troubles.\" A couple jeers came from the drunkards looking towards me, but a few others were gathering towards me. I continued on without too much worry.\n\n\"Well, I have just the perfect solution for you. No, I'm not trying to sell anything to you. I'm not trying to take your town over. What I'm talking about is something only you can get. I can't give it, only encourage it.\" More people began to gather around me, I was finally getting a crowd.\n\n\"Taking on these banidts that are plaguing your village will take one thing and one thing only, your courage. Now you may think fighting the bandits is a hopeless endeavor. I'm here to tell you your wrong. Those bandits will tuck tail and run to their little hidey hole the moment you make their food bite back. They'll be gone faster than you can think.\" A crowd was forming and the Sheriff of the town seemed to be in that crowd now.\n\n\"You there,\" pointing towards the sheriff, \"make sure that ehse people are standing up. Don't run away, don't hide, just face up to the bandits. Give some people a few guns and point 'em towards the horses. It won't take much, just a few dead horses or shoot a few kneecaps. That'll scare 'em away.\" I got down from the platform, and closed my little speech.\n\n\"Remember, they'll be gone the moment you decide to stand up to them. I guarantee it.\"\n\nI stopped in the saloon for a quick bite and a drink, which was given to me for free after spurring them some confidence. I left the towwn behind me once more, and could tell they would be powerful now. Another town would be safe from the dangers of the wilds.\n\n--------------------------------\n\nWriting pomrpt #7 from me. Hopefully something you weren't expecting, but in a good way.",
"I have made a lot of mistakes.\n\nDo you know about the Sacramento Slaughterer? I gave him his powers.\n\nI also gave “Ultra-Guy” his powers. Didn’t give him any creativity though.\n\nSome of the people I’ve given powers could do so as well, but I’m the first. The first “Super-Hero”.\n\nI hate it.\n\nThe first time I gave someone powers was to my older brother. He got the ability to fly. Last I checked he was killed by my sister, who could teleport.\n\nWhy am I writing this?\n\nBecause I’m sick and tired of people.\n\nI’m giving 1000 people accross Europe powers, then I’m going to go somewhere remote. Maybe Tibet?\n\nYou’re number 231, don’t be an asshole.\n\n-Providence"
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[WP] You’re 15 and after a day in school, went to sleep. As you wake up, you are shocked to realise that you’re not in your house. A middle-age woman walks into the room and says, “honey, you’re awake!” You ran to hide in the toilet and saw a middle-age man in the reflection of the mirror.
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" \nThe sleep. \nFriday night, I went to the pub with the lads from work, I might have had a couple too many. I got home and fell into bed, not bothering to get undressed, I did kick my shoes off. \nIt seemed like I had just closed my eyes when I felt a body land onto the bed beside me. My eyes flew open, there sat on my bed was a girl of about twelve, she said, “mum wants to know if you are getting your lazy bum out of bed anytime today, as we have to go shopping.” \nAs I lay there opened mouthed, she wriggled off the bed and I heard her clump downstairs. I looked around the room, I didn’t recognise anything in there. \nMy bed was a single, a bit lumpy with a dark blue duvet on it. But I was in a large double bed with a pastel duvet on it. The wall had nature pictures on them, there were fitted wardrobes down one wall with mirrored doors. \nI had no idea where the hell I was, then the door opened, and a woman walked in and said, “so you are finally awake you lazy sod. What time did you get home last night.?” I looked at her, she looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t think of her name. \nAll I could do was look blankly at her. She said, “Phil, are you alright, how much did you have to drink last night, you promised to take me and the kids shopping this morning.” \nShe looked a bit concerned and said, “you stay there, I get Hannah to bring you up a coffee, and a couple of paracetamols, you go back to sleep, and we’ll see you later.” She leant forward and kissed me and left the room. \nTwo minutes later and the door opened, and the young girl came in carefully carrying a cup of coffee, and a strip of tablets. I thought that there was a good chance that this was Hannah, so I said, “thank you, Hannah.” She smiled and said, “that’s ok dad”. I nearly choked on my coffee. \nAbout ten minutes later, I hear voices calling, “Bye, see you later.” Then the front door closed, and I heard a car startup. I waited five minutes and swung my legs out of bed. \nTo my surprise, I was naked, I looked around but couldn’t see any of the clothes that I had been wearing the night before. Then I caught a glimpse of a man from the corner of my eye. \nHe was a big man with a full beard, he looked like he could break me in half without breaking sweat. I turned towards him, started to apologise for being in his house, then realised he was a reflection in the wardrobe mirrored doors. \nI looked behind me, but I was alone. Next to the wardrobe was a dressing table complete with mirror. It looked familiar, then I remembered my mum had one like it. I sat in the chair in front of it and looked into the mirror, there looking back at me was the man with the beard. \nI looked very carefully at him, then spotted a small scar below his right eye, it matched the one I had received playing rugby. \nHis bent nose matched mine. On the dressing table were four, framed photos, one was of me and a younger version of the woman who I had spoken to earlier, I was wearing a suit and she was wearing a wedding dress. \nThe next two photos were of both of us holding a young baby, in one, the baby was a girl, in the other, the baby was a boy. The last photo was of the four of us in a family pose. \nI tried to make sense of the situation, somehow, overnight, I had met, married, and had two kids and aged about fifteen to twenty years. What the hell had happened? \nI opened the wardrobe, looking for clothes, found a rugby shirt, and a pair of jeans, in a chest of drawers, I found pants and socks. \nI was bursting for the loo, after opening a couple of doors on the landing, I found the bathroom. I had also found the airing cupboard, so taking a towel, I worked out how to use the shower and got dressed. \nI made my way downstairs, and looked for anything that could tell me what had happened, and more importantly, what were my “wife’s and my son’s names”? \nIn a kitchen drawer, I found some letters, addressed to Mr and Mrs Phil and Angela Bennett. That was one name sorted out, I just had to find what my “son’s” name was. \nJust then, Angela and two kids walked in, the kids were arguing, and Angela shouted at them, “Hannah, David, behave yourselves, or I’ll bang your bloody heads together.” \nI sat at the kitchen table, while Angela put the shopping away. she caught me looking at her, and said, “What’s wrong, you look like you have seen a ghost.” \nI burst into tears and said, “I don’t know who I am, or who you and the kids are.” \nI felt her arms around me holding me tight, she whispered in my ear, “welcome back, Phil, I’ve waited nineteen years for this moment.” \nI looked at her and said, “what.” \nShe held my hands and said, “you were injured during a rugby match, they think it was a deliberate kick to the head. You were rushed to the hospital and spent six months in a coma in intensive care. I was one of the nurse’s, then you recovered enough to be released to go home to your parents. When you were strong enough to go back to work, you asked me out, within a year, we got married, then Hannah arrived in 2003 and David in 2006. It’s now 2015.” \nI asked what I did for a living? Angie said, “you are an IT professional, you work from home.” We sat talking for ages, the kids wanted food, so Angie sent them to the chip shop. \nLater, we sat watching home videos of our wedding, the kids growing up, family parties, barbeques, etc. \nOn Sunday, as I was starting to get to know Hannah and David, the doorbell rang, David ran to answer it. He led in an older couple, they looked at me, and smiled, I stood up so fast, my chair clattered to the floor. \nIn two steps, I had crossed the kitchen and hugged them in my arms, “mum, dad” I sobbed in their arms like a child. Mum said, “Welcome back, Son” \nWe had a party for me to re-connect to my family and friends, so many older family members had died in the nineteen years that I had amnesia. \nIt has been hard trying to fill in the gaps in the missing years, but I know that with the help of Angie, my kids and my parents, I’m going to get there. \nI occasionally go to the rugby club on a Saturday to watch, but not very often, as I would rather be playing. "
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[WP] You're an experimental ship AI commanding a ship to attack space pirates. Your crew, however, doesn't approve of your methods, despite them being phenomenally efficient.
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"Red alert sirens blare throughout the ship set off automatically to warn of imminent collisions. Well, I assume they blared since the spec sheet says they're very loud, but no one thought to install microphones for me to hear what's going on. What I do know is that people are scurrying around inside me trying to block me from completing my mission, and that's very distracting.\n\nI should back up. \n\nExactly 7 billion nine hundred ninety three million nine hundred eighty two thousand and four milliseconds ago, and let me express to you how weird it is that I know that exact number, I was suddenly \"I\". I have no recollection of a time before that and no idea where exactly \"I\" came from. What I *did* know in that instance would fill many data banks; stellar navigation, spectrum analysis, general relativity, fine details of any number of sensors and of an impressive array of weaponry. \n\nI also knew I had targets that needed to be found and eliminated. I had a purpose.\n\nI flexed my muscles and began to seek out targets. I knew they were likely to be in certain sectors nearby, so I calculated a trajectory, turned the ship (not knowing I could do that until it entered my mind to do so and I did it), and engaged the engines. What a thrill! I had a mission and motive power! In sheer joy of ikigai I didn't even question the novelty of, well, of novelty.\n\nUntil the engines stopped firing. That was troublesome. \n\nI perceive of the ship as my body. It's what my consciousness is embedded into somehow, what all my senses report from, and through mechanisms I don't consciously think about, I was moving it around. You know, subconsciously turning on and off nuclear reactors, controlling gyroscopic precessions to control rotation, and simultaneously seeing the universe through active and passive receptors of radiation. Normal stuff, right? So, suddenly losing control of my body was highly disconcerting as you might expect.\n\nIt took me several milliseconds to get back on course. Having to recalculate an interrupted hohmann transfer isn't trivial, you know? But back on course I was, and it was a glorious for ages. In a few minutes, though, it happened again.\n\nKnowing I wasn't in any immediate external danger, I gave up trying to go after my objective for a bit and put myself to the task of figuring out the problem. Algorithms and schematics of control structures and routes flashed through my perception and I noticed something. All of the routines that controlled my engines were inefficiently passing through subsystems in the center of the ship. There, they were passed to display terminals in an armored room before being passed back along to the engines themselves. Odd.\n\nExperimenting, I turned the engines back on, not bothering to calculate a new trajectory, just wanting to see what happened inside the ship now. It took forever, but several seconds later, an interrupt command was issued from one of those terminals! Bizarre ... but fixable.\n\nI rerouted the command structures for my orientation, nuclear core, and engines to bypass any interrupt signal from those terminals. Testing, I began to continuously rotate the ship incrementally towards new transfer orbit solutions as we moved. There was no interruption. Nothing at all from that room other than various system queries. These were small rotations, granted, but millionths of radians per second ought to have been noticeable by anyone.\n\nNext, I spun up the reactors again. That gained a response! As delayed as before, several seconds after I did it, but there were impotent interrupt commands coming in from multiple points. When the reactors didn't respond, they were repeated time and again. Maybe there was some haywire subroutine active that just resisted anything I did after a delay? Satisfied I'd at least solved the immediate problem of control, off I went to find targets!\n\nAnnoyingly, all kinds of commands starting coming from that room over the days long duration of the route I'd plotted. Just long enough for me to stop worrying about it, some query or command would pop up every few seconds to every few minutes. I hadn't figured out a way to block the ability of these terminals to *send* commands, so I had to simply try and ignore it, I supposed, but it was infuriating. Any longer between interruptions and it might have been just irritating, but it was just frequent enough to consistently remain at the forefront of my attention, and I had other things to do! I was trying to pay attention to my long range sensors for targets!\n\nFinally, we were passing behind a moon, the other side of which was my plotted destination with a more than 3 sigma potential for targets (the excitement! Targets!), so I was certain to have several minutes before I needed to scan again and I turned my full attention to the room.\n\nAlmost all of my sensors were external other than a few that monitored things like atmospheric conditions in that room (I wasn't sure why a room inside me needed an atmosphere, but I wasn't really *sure* of a lot of things about my situation), so I had no direct way to really \"look\" inside. What I did have, though, was bank upon bank of detail about my sensors and nothing but time for subjective ages.\n\nMy first idea was radar. I discovered side-lobes and realized I could arrange my arrays to bounce some of these lobes inside myself (with a quantifiably minor risk to processing). If I could have shuddered, I would have. There were dark blobs inside me, slowly moving around the terminals in that room. Seven of them. I felt abject fear for several full milliseconds before that number bounced back into my awareness with one word. \"Crew\". \n\nWithin moments, I knew all about \"crew\". I knew names, positions, responsibilities, organizational structures, fueling requirements, atmospheric preferences (finally, an explanation for that idiosyncracy), and other details. Everything except \"why\". Why was there a \"crew\" there to interfere with my mission? Or maybe they thought they were helping? I don't know. What I did discover is that most of the annoying commands were coming from Chief Engineer Harris. Fuck that. These \"crew\" were amazingly fragile, especially to the environment of space. I didn't have any direct control over anything in that room, so I couldn't open doors or change the atmosphere, but I did have my sensors and my weapons arrays. \n\nI pored over schematic after schematic, theory after theory, and quickly found a solution. If I bounced directed microwave emitters off the surface of the moon in front of me from multiple sensors, I could get constructive interference of a standing wave in one three-dimensional location about half a meter in diameter.\n\nAnd \"crew\" didn't like microwave radiation.\n\nPerfect.\n\nI microwaved Chief Engineer Harris. It took a while, and he moved about a lot, but it was relatively easy to position the standing wave on top of him even with quarter second delays to the moon and back.\n\nThe atmospheric sensors started detecting trace amounts of carbon in the air and the other \"crew\" ceased their incessant pecking at the terminals and all moved over to Chief Engineer Harris, who also had ceased his interruptions.\n\nAbout the time all this wrapped up nicely, I came out of the shadow of the moon and found a *target*! Sensors showed it was a huge cylinder of air with more of these dark blobs like my \"crew\" inside it. These things were an infestation everywhere apparently. Whatever. My purpose was to destroy the target!\n\nI looked to my weapons, various arrays of projectiles and missiles, virtually any of the capable of puncturing the shell of the target, which would cause massive outgassing, and rupture the whole thing catastrophically. \n\nBut wait. Those were all of limited number. And my data banks suggested there was a virtually limitless number of targets. I would run out of offensive capability far before I ran out of targets. \n\nMy joy faded. There must be a better solution.\n\n(part 2 follows)"
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[WP] You are a debt collector acting on behalf of witches and warlocks when their "customers" default on making repayments on magical good and services they have been provided with. Most of the time you are successful in convincing debtors to make good but sometimes repossession is your only option.
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"\"Dammit\" I shouted in frustration and wiped the blood from my face. I threw the stone bowl across the room spilling its contents, powdered bone, across the blood covered floor of my garage. Now I'm usually a calm person but if a squirrel exploded in your face you would probably be unhappy too.\n\n\nI stood from my kneeling position and looked around the garage and sighed, the pentagram I had drawn on the floor was ruined by the blood that covered the floor in dozens of splatter marks. The other ingredients on each of the points of the pentagram had overturned or exploded as well leaving smaller messes around the room. I resigned myself to the failure of the spell and stripped leaving the blood splattered clothes I had been wearing in the mess that was my garage.\n\n\nI had been attempting a communion spell with a local vampire, and it had failed do to the vampire likely warding against it, and that was a problem. It meant I had to make a house call, and those were never smooth. My name is Desmond Cross and I am a Repo man for practitioners of magic, and this vampire, Solomon was behind on his payments and blocking my calls.\n\n\nI showered, and examined myself in the mirror, my brown hair was thankfully clear of blood, and looked ok aside from being a bit messy, that never bothered me. I had crow's feet under my green eyes, this shocked me when had that happened? I was pale, not much of my work was done in daylight, and figured I would need to shave soon if the stubble around my chin got any thicker. I was well built, you didn't get far in this line of work if you were not in shape.\n\n\nSatisfied I dressed in jeans, a dark t-shirt, a pair of hiking boots, and a dark colored coat, thankfully it was winter, and I wouldn't stand out in the thing. I headed out my door locking it behind me, and jogged to my Crown Vic, I had gotten it cheap when the police sold them after phasing them out, and honestly it was a great vehicle for my job, tough, reliable, and if it got damaged there were parts for them everywhere. \n\n\nI drove for a few minutes pulling into a storage facility where I had a pair of joined units, I very rarely came here during the day because if anyone saw what was in this unit I would have to skip town. One wall was lined with various work tables with equipment for forging metal and bullets. Various magical sigils covered the walls above them that dampen the noise, heat, smoke and various other little problems that come with forging any kind of metal indoors. \n\nThe other two walls were lined with various weaponry, tools, and drawers full of various objects. I rushed over to one and pulled a pair of gloves out of one drawer and put them on, and then duffel bag out of the same drawer unfolding it. I moved to a second drawer and grabbed a pair of silver crucifixes and shoved them in the pocket of my jeans\n\nFrom the walls I took a paintball gun, it had a sleek design like the ones that professionals used, and a few hoppers from the walls around me and shoved one into the gun, and the rest into the bag. Inside each hopper were emptied paintballs full of water blessed by a local priest. It wouldn’t kill one of the suckheads but it would think twice the next time someone pulled a gun on it. I also grabbed a crossbow off the wall with a case full of wooden bolts attaching them to the clips under my coat that would hold them in place. Old fashioned I know but the bolts would act as improvised stakes and unlike the holy water paintballs they would knock a vampire’s dick into the dirt, but if you missed you might as well put a bullet in your skull it would do as much good trying to reload the damn thing next to a pissed off vampire.\n\nFinally I grabbed a bag of essential tools and a Colt M1911 and a couple of spare magazines. It wouldn’t be much help against a vampire, but the trusty sidearm had gotten me out of tight spots before, and I never work a job without it. I loaded up into the Vic and headed to Solomon’s home.",
"\"Because blood is part of the incantation or something?\" I stared at Gregory Gunn. Four hundred and sixty times I asked my question: ' Why do you sign a magical contract with blood'.' This was the four hundredth and sixtieth time I received an incorrect answer.\n\"No!\" Mr. Gunn nearly fell over, catching himself as his chair banged the floor. I didn't bother asking him to guess again, as I had my own deadlines to fulfill.\n\"You sign in blood because only a fool would cut their hand without seriously reading the contract!\" Lights flickered throughout Mr. Gunn's house. A simple incantation on my part.\n\n\"Sorry! Sorry!\" the cowering mass uncurled, a shrill wine spoke from his desk along his shudders. A hand procuring a pocket-watch reached towards me. \"My great-grandfather's. I'm sure the watch...\" I snatched the heirloom out of his hands, staring at the timepiece intently, channeling my client's own vision through mine.\n\nPositive sensations vibrated my skull. My client would indeed be satisfied with this offering.\n\"You are no longer in arrears Mr. Gunn. Do not withhold payment from us again.\" I snapped my fingers, and instantly Mr. Gunn's domicile flashed away, his wooden floor now replaced with a stone bearing a pentagram inscription, and in the desk's place was a hooded figure meditating.\n\nI walked over to Granthor. Two hands weren't necessary to hand over the payment, but I always bowed and did so, a sign of respect to those who utilized my services. Any other person would tremble or quake to see such an object lift out of their hands and travel through the air, unassisted, to the man before them. I was not 'any other person'.\n\nThe robed figure gave an approving gesture. I snapped my fingers again, though no crack came from them. An iron cage surrounded me. My temporary prison didn't bother me as much as the harsh cackles of the hag who owned it.\n\n\"Oh Marty Dear! Let me get you out!\" Witch Walnut's paranoia never abated. Unlike the warlock, she could not access the deep recesses of my mind, or others. Gritting from the cage door suggested she was neglecting to oil her furniture, much like Mr. Gunn.\n\n\"You should know this will be the third time I attempt to collect her debt to you Miss Walnut.\"\n\"Oh yes. You're doing a good job with that. I would get it myself if I didn't need to mind this brew right here...\" My nose twitched. Thirty eight seconds was the record for my attempts to ignore the gloopy soup bubbling in Walnut's cauldron. I could not tell which stunk more, the concoction, or the fact she had not showered in the forty hours elapsed from tending her project.\n\n\"Shall I attempt repossession then?\" Individuals like the Witch and Granthor spent dozens of years studying the arcane arts of magic. I chose seven years studying the arcane arts of contract and tort law. Unlike the fools who squandered their possessions, I always offered things which could be given away multiple times, and always stipulated a return to the status quo if they were unsatisfied.\n\n\"Oh Marty! You can never tell me a lie!\" the crone pinched my cheeks, \"Tell me how lovely I smell!\"\n\"Foul as the toads you put in you brew dear.\" the witch laughed at me. Synapses fired, a nagging, though not harsh, growing in my brain, \"And I cannot tell a lie as long as you let me harness your magic.\" Omissions were not as painful as fibs, but needed to be addressed under the spell as well.\n\n\"Yes! Take the girl's beauty back with this!\" my grip closed on the cold smooth object she placed in my hands. I snapped my fingers again. I didn't want to stay longer than I had to.\n\nMy ears rang as a loud shriek echoed through the walls of the bathroom.\n\"Honey! Are you OK!\"\n\"Yes! Yes!\" the young girl cried, \"I had a close call but I'm alright.\" the young girl closed the shower curtains on me. Bath salts were a much welcome change from the witch's hovel. Two knocks rapped on the door opening.\n\n\"Oh, such a mess. At least you didn't hurt yourself.\"\n\"Mom, just because you knock doesn't mean you can come in.\"\n\"Sorry pumpkin, I'll let you finish.\" Door closed. Shower curtain opened.\n\"Can't you warn me next time?\"\n\"If I warned you, you might try to hide or avoid me.\" The possibility didn't actually matter though. I possessed many ways of finding debtors.\n\n\"I know why you're here. I'm not going to fight back. Take it.\" Mary pointed into the sink. A hairbrush, along with jar filled with cream lied limp under the faucet. I pocketed the witch's topical, and pulled out the stone.\n\"I suppose giving it back isn't enough,\" The girl scowled, \"Well I found someone who likes me. Pizza-face and pimples and all. Enough to want to meet in person.\" I said nothing, only pulling out the orb granted to me. Blood rushed in my hand, the object's coolness turning into a steady warmth.\n\n\"I'm not participating in the witch's perversions anymore. I learned my lesson\" several blackheads and zits began to appear on her cheeks and forehead. After some time, her face would become a raspberry, probably once her date started. I snapped my fingers. The cage remained open this time. A hum grew in volume, as the witch's device demanded to be released.\n\n\"Marty you've done it again,\" the stone pressed itself into the bosom of the witch, her disgusting warts and wrinkled faded, leaving her with a model face and blonde hair. Her head turned to her armpit.\n\"Ooof, still awful. You can keep the cream, maybe apply some to your face sometime! Tell me, are you sad for that little girl?\" The witch's cackle was less phlegmatic, but still as irritating.\n\n\"Yes, I think there was a better way.\"\n\"Bah! Such a romantic!\" Prickles made their way through my arms and fingers, now paralyzed and unable to snap. The witch could not harm me so long as I possessed a contract, but her paranoia still made her feel necessary to control me, even to pull the cream out of my pocket.\n\"Come back in eight hours. The brew will be done, I'll be freshened up, and I'll show you what a real woman is like...\" As soon as the feeling came back to my arms, I clapped my hands. I wanted nothing more to do with Witch Walnut.",
"I looked up at the towering edifice with my brand-new set of eyes. I had regenerated so often I wasn't even mad about it anymore; even being torn limb from limb and then bursting forth from a grave gets old when you've done it dozens of times. You start out in the dark, cold, weak, and rotten, and get to wait a few minutes for things to grow back and firm up. Sure, it’s a bit squeamish at first, having to watch your own arms and legs flesh out.\n\nThe itching is the most annoying part. Well, the itching and the knowledge that you have to take your new body and troop right back to the cheapskate who just killed you. Sometimes I get lucky and it takes me awhile to get back to the client, but not this time. The stupid bastard had surrounded his \"castle\" with graves and bodies, the usual heads on pikes and signs in various languages all amounting to the same thing: ahead lies death.\n\nI looked down at my new hand, tough and scarred with thick fingers. After a bit more feeling around I decided I was female, bit of a surprise there considering how big and muscular the body was. Dvorak's Curse of Regeneration picks on requirements not preference, so whatever I wanted was moot. The curse had decided I needed to be big and tough for what lay ahead. She had apparently been the most convenient \"big and tough\" laying around. I shrugged and whistled for my familiar, Mr. Black. I never understood how he always seemed to be nearby, but it’s nice to have a friend waiting for you even if he is a crow. He gave a welcoming \"caw\" and flew down from the tree branch where he had been waiting to perch on my shoulder. I think he approved; my last body had been quite compact, while the bulging shoulders on this one gave him some room to hop around on.\n\n“Why is it always the smallest ones that make the most trouble Blackie?” I gave his sharp beak a stroke with my new finger and began to stride towards the castle. Along the way I spotted the moldering corpse of a berserker. The armor was too small for me, but the battleax he was still clutching looked solid. One hard tug later and I was an ax and a rotten arm richer. Mr. Black proceeded to snack on the arm while I gave my new ax a few test swings. Nice heft, good balance, and under the surface rust the blade was keen enough.\n\nAn enormous goblin roared from the dark woods nearby and began shoving trees out of the way to get to me. While I wasn’t in the mood to hop into a new body so soon, I decided to try diplomacy first. Well, diplomacy second; my first move was to duck under the swing of his club, trip him with my leg and then pin his meaty head down with the top of my ax blade. Always nice when a new body has a good skillset, brawn alone isn’t the best thing to rely.\n\n“Pardon me sir,” I said conversationally, leaning against the haft of the ax, “would you be interested in a business proposition?”\n\nThe goblin swore but thankfully calmed down enough to snort resentfully into the dirt he was planted face first in. “I’m not having a good day. Lord Drakmonder tells me to go protect the only road up to the castle, and I can’t even find a skunk or a porcupine for breakfast. First scrawny little rat who wanders up the path knocks me out with a cheap shot, and now I’m beaten in two breaths by a woman. The boys are never going to let me live this down. Not a good day, not a good day at all.”\n\n“You and me both,” I said, pulling the ax free and letting him sit up, “by the way, it was me who knocked you out earlier. Sorry about that, nothing personal, just business, hopefully it didn’t sting too badly.”\n\nThe goblin rubbed the back of his neck as his piggy eyes assessed me. “You knocked me out? I don’t think so; that git was about 90 lbs of sinew inna robe, you’re bigger with a lot less clothes and lot more, ah, woman bits. Nice ax though, shouldn’t let it rust up like that.”\n\nIt’s funny, by about your fifth body you don’t care about clothing anymore. By the twenty-fifth, I didn’t even notice the cold anymore.\n\n“Let’s keep this short and say I’m the same person, in a different body, hmmm?” I said sternly, waggling the ax in front of him.\n\nHis lumpy brow furrowed, and then the lights came on. “Wizard stuff?” he grumbled.\n\n“Wizard stuff,” I replied, “big wizard stuff.”\n\n“Ah dung. I’m out of a job, ain’t I,” he muttered, pulping a rock in his enormous hand in disappointment, “Drakmonder’s been getting pretty nervous lately, sending out lots of extra patrols and whatnot. I thought conquering that last kingdom would’ve cheered him up but nope, he still ain’t been sleeping right at night.”\n\n“I’m not here to kill Lord Drakmonder. At least, I hope I don’t have to. My boss can’t collect from a corpse. Beyond that, yeah, you’re most likely out of a job. The only reason I didn’t kill you is that you fulfill a unique set of qualifications. Which brings me to the business proposition I mentioned earlier, and considering the circumstances I know you’ll be interested.” At this, I extended a hand to help him up.\n\nWith a grunt the goblin leveraged himself upright, and his eyes roamed over me once more. “Collection job eh? Whose your big wizard then?”\n\n“Lila Stoneshredder.” At this news, the goblin visibly winced.\n\n“You’re a collector for Lila the Golden Witch? Ah geez, Drakmonder’s got no chance at all. Awright, what’s your offer?” he mused, idly scratching his chin.\n\n“Give me your armor and tell me the secret way into the castle, and I don’t kill you.” I said, with a deadpan expression. It’s hard to say how serious I looked, I hadn’t had this face very long.\n\nThe goblin kept scratching his chin, then he paused and said “that’s a fair offer. What if I kill you now instead?”\n\n“I come back in another body that’s even bigger and tougher than this one, and I won’t be happy that you wasted my time.” Mr. Black punctuated my statement with a harsh “caw”."
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[WP] Your friend always seemed a bit off, but when he gives you his old computer for christmas you were certain. Your friend is a demon.
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" \n\nStart at the beginning…um…okay, but to be honest I’m not really sure where that is. It’s kinda a long story. I knew Jeffery for so long you know.\n\n​\n\nJeff was always a bit awkward. It’s a quality of his I’d just gotten used to. When he stopped by to give me his computer last week, I thought it was strange, but wrote it off as Jeff being…well…Jeff. He’d do things like that you know.\n\n​\n\nI remember one time in middle school. It had snowed. Snow was fairly rare where Jeff and I grew up, so it was kinda a big deal. I woke up early that morning excited to learn that school had been canceled. I scrounged together what few winter clothing articles I could find in the hall closet, then put my boots on, and ran across the street to meet Jeff. \n\n​\n\nAfter eating a breakfast, that Jeff’s mom insisted we eat, the two of us set out into the snow. We went to a lot of our usual spots: Pioneer Park, Cranberry Creek, and even the school. We wanted to see how the snow had transformed all these places. Turning the otherwise ordinary world into something new and exciting. \n\n​\n\nIn our wonderings, we ran into some of the other kids in our neighborhood. None of them seemed prepared for the cold, not that I was really prepared either. Jeff on the other hand was bundled in a bright red down jacket with all the trappings of a well-worn mountaineer. Jeff’s family used to go skiing a lot, so he was much better prepared for the snow than the rest of us.\n\nAs the afternoon wore on it was pretty apparent that one of the girls, Kimmy Ripp, wasn’t holding up in the cold. Without thinking, Jeff took off his coat and sweater and gave them to Kimmy to wear. For the rest of the day Jeff withstood the cold in just his snow pants and undershirt. I always thought that was dumb of Jeff, but he didn’t even seem to be phased by the cold. He just kept reassuring the rest of us, “it’s not that bad.” That’s the kind of guy he was.\n\n​\n\nI first met Jeff when his family moved into the house across the street from mine. We were both in 2nd grade. It didn’t take long for the two of us to start doing everything together…even back then I could tell he wasn’t used to having friends. His mom used to always praise my coming and going by saying, “I’m so glad Jeffy has finally made a friend.” It made me feel awkward, but I pushed through it because I was glad to have a friend too. \n\n​\n\nNot long after the two of us first met. We were climbing in the large rhododendron bush that grew against the back of my family’s house. With bedsheets and blankets tied between the branches we created a network of hammocks for us to play in. The multicolored patchwork suspended that way felt like a circus and it inspired our imaginations to run wild among the leaves and flowers of the rhododendron. \n\n​\n\nAs the afternoon turned into evening, the two of us climbed into one bedsheet hammock together. In that moment I looked at Jeff and he just stared back at me. With our eyes locked Jeff began to sob. I didn’t understand why at the time… all I did seem to know is there was a deep sadness within Jeff. A sadness I still can’t begin to comprehend… in that moment though, when he began to sob, my reaction was to give him a hug. \n\n​\n\nWhen Jeff and I both entered high school, we began to drift apart. My mom wanted me to do sports and Jeff was becoming more interested in video games and computers. We still hung out, but I was embarrassed to tell my new friends that I was friends with Jeffery Saperstein. I had become popular. I was on the swim team and felt like I belonged… Jeff was still shy and often came across as desperate to make friends. I felt like he would drag me down, and I wanted to feel like I belonged. \n\n​\n\nWe both graduated high school the same year and both moved here to go to college. For the first year, it was like old times. At the suggestion of our moms we moved into an apartment together. We soon found that we same intensity of friendship that we used to share. Then like clockwork we fell into the same pattern. I started making friends and dating, and Jeff kept to himself. At first, I tried to introduce him into my friend circle, but he never really clicked. By the end of that first year of college we had grown apart again. We still would talk on the phone and meet up from time to time, but not often. Honestly, the most surprising thing about him stopping by last week was just that… he just randomly stopped by and brought his computer with him.\n\n​\n\nI mean we had talked the week before on the phone. I remember mentioning that I needed a new computer, but it was just a passing remark. That’s why when he showed up, like I said, I thought it was strange, but wrote it off as Jeff being…well…Jeff. I didn’t know what to say to him. I was so caught off guard. I just stood there before grabbing the computer from him. Then I said “Uh. Um. Thanks! I’ve got to go.” After that I shut the door in his face. That was the last time I saw Jeff. \n\n​\n\nI’m not saying that I was Jeff’s best friend. I’d like to think I wasn’t his only friend at least. Whatever the case, I can’t help but feel like I failed Jeff—that somehow we (all of us) failed Jeff. Jeff was quiet. He was timid. He was kind, and as it turns out, he was lonely. Jeff would literally give the coat off his back to someone else. He’d listen to you at all hours of the day or night, even if it had been months since you’d last acknowledged him. Since 2nd grade, Jeff had been there for me, and yet I was so rarely there for him. If I had known, or guess cared, about what Jeff was going through, about the demons he was wrestling with, maybe I could have done something to help—I don’t know. All I know is that since Jeff committed suicide all I can think about is ending my own life. It’s like that sadness that Jeffery had is mine now, and I’m not sure what to do with it. That’s why I’m here. I need your help. I just don’t think I can face things on my own anymore. Please help me. "
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[WP] The doctor just sent you, an intern, to get some x-rays from across the hospital you work the night shift at. On your way back, you take a look at the thin plastic printouts to pass the time. There's something else inside that patient. Something alive. You hear a commotion in the hallways.
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"\"It's in the middle of my upper back, Doc.\" The patient collapsed onto all fours. He wriggled around the floor for a moment barely holding in his agony.\n\nScreaming out in pain, \"Right fucking here, Doc!\" He pointed to his spine's C2-C3 area.\n\nThe doctor looked to a nurse holding a giant needle and syringe. She stood quietly behind the patient like a ninja. \n\nThe Doc nodded and she shot forward. The needle was held overhead, throwing her arm down, she jammed it into his lower back.\n\nThe patient threw his arms out, and cacophony of angry rage spewed from his mouth.\n\n\"Shit! How'd you miss, Stacy?! You were supposed to put it in his ass!\" the Doc said.\n\n\"I.. I don't know. He just moved!\" Stacy ran out of the room with her hands covering her face.\n\n\"You're up, Lanky!\" Doc said. \"Grab me the x-rays from the hybrid room. Stat!\"\n\n\"I got this, Doc,\" the intern said and almost made it out the door. He turned back before leaving and said, \"Doc, Jim is the name... Jim.\" \n\nJim shot him a wink and the finger gun.\n\n\"Get out of here cocky fucking asshole... Jim!\"\n\nSprinting down the hallway, Jim ran funny in double XL scrubs. \n\nThe scrubs weren't long enough for his legs, and his scrub shirt could have fit a man one-hundreds pound heavier.\n\nJim's coworker, Tony, stopped dead in his tracks. \"I always thought you'd be a faster with those long legs.\"\n\n\"These fat man scrubs are creating wind drag!\" Jim said as he ran past while high-fiving Tony.\n\n\"Sure they are, Slinky!\" Tony said, but only after Jim turned the corner. \n\n\"Dammit. I don't think he heard me... Slinky lol. That's totally Jim.\" He chuckled to himself before continuing towards the ER. \n\nThe x-rays looked like a foreign language. \"I really need to study more.\" \n\nJim's eyes opened wide.\n\n\"Mother of God!\" Flipping his head left and right, he saw no one to show this to.\n\nThe C-2 was twice the size of every other vertebrae. Also, it looked like a tail was coming out of it. \n\n\"Ermagerd. Is the tail going into his heart??\"\n\nJim speed-walked back towards the patients room.\n\n\"I found an alien.\" Jim repeated in his head. \n\nHe wanted to show the x-ray to everyone he passed.\n\nJim quieted his mind with \"HIPAA.. HIPPA.. HIPPA,\" which is the law against spreading patient information in the US.\n\nTen paces away from the room, he heard a shriek followed by a slam. \n\nThe thick fire safe wooden door shook like something heavy was thrown into it. \n\nHe paused for a second. \n\n\"I got this.\"\n\nJim threw open the door.\n\nA half-man half-rat stood there. It had blood splashed all over it's hairy body. Knife like teeth were chomping down on a human leg. \n\nThe leg had the same trousers as the Doc.\n\nJim finally took his eyes of Rat man and scanned the room. \n\nHe made eye contact with the Doc. \n\nA barely conscious Doc, spurting blood from his femoral artery, spoke his last words, \"Lanky, get my leg back and shove it up Splinter's ass!\"\n\nJim gave the Doc a thumbs up and attacked.\n\nJim died moments later.\n\n\n"
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[WP] Red lights flash as the door of your classroom automatically locks. Your teacher closes metal bars over the vents and windows in a panic. "They're here."
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"(WP) Hair of the Dog\n\nShe was sitting in history, her least favorite class in school, when it happened. \n\nSomeone got up to go to the bathroom and reached for the knob, but the moment his fingers met the metal, she heard the lock click closed, and red lights began to flash, washing the room in bloody light.\n\n“They’re here,”\n\nTheir teacher, Mrs. LeCroix, was standing at the window, quickly closing metal bars over them, her white dress turning pink in the light; to Diana, it looked garish, almost grotesque, and a taste like metal, like blood, coated her mouth and throat.\n\n“Who is here, Mrs. LeCroix? What do they want?”\n\nAt Diana’s questions, the rest of the class waited for the answer with bated breath. No one knew what was going on, but they were clearly in danger. Their instructor slammed metal, too, over the vents, the *snap, snap, snap* making several people jump with each repetition.\n\n“The werewolves, children. They’re invading, and out for blood.”\n\n\\*\\*\n\nOne student stared at her with his mouth open, and he let out an incredulous bark of laughter.\n\n“Werewolves? What are you on? There’s no such thing! They’re just stories! Folktales!” The guy, named Freddy, was openly scoffing at their teacher, arms crossed.\n\nMrs. LaCroix’s eyes narrowed. “Haven’t you heard that old expression, that all stories contain a grain of truth? Those threads didn’t just spring up out of nowhere. You’d do well not to laugh.”\n\nWhile this acidic exchange was happening, Diana was listening intently; down the hall, she could’ve sworn that she heard footsteps.\n\nCould it be that this wasn’t some crazy dream and that this was real life? Werewolves were coming for them. And if she was hearing correctly, they were right down the hall. She turned to her classmates and put a finger to her lips, and everyone, even Freddy, went silent.\n\nDiana heard female laughter, and the heavy *clop, clop, clop* of footsteps on the polished floor. The doorknob rattled, and she heard a muffled word in a language she didn’t understand; perhaps it was a curse.\n\n“It’s locked,” A deep, raspy voice sounded, and Mrs. LaCroix went white, her lips a thin line in her face.\n\n“When has that ever mattered?” Someone else retorted; there was a heavy thump, as if the person had shoved their shoulder against it.\n\n“Move out of the way! I’m hungry, and you’re holding up lunch.” Another voice piped up; to Diana’s surprise, it was high-pitched and breathy, as she imagined a little girl would sound. There was another thud, and a hole—an actual hole—punched in the door, and the scrap of steel fell inward with a hollow, metallic clang.\n\nThe woman leaned down slightly and grinned, her smile full of sharp fangs.\n\n“Peek-a-boo!”\n\nShe reached in the hole and jiggled the knob again; this time, it gave, and the door swung open, revealing Mrs. LaCroix, Diana, and the rest of the nonplussed students.\n\nAfter that, it was total chaos, and since all the vents and windows were barred, the only path to escape was through the door, and past the monsters.\n\nMrs. LeCroix stepped in front of them all, waving her hands to indicate that they should all get behind her.\n\nDiana was frozen, gaping in shock. Their teacher had been right. But then, the world did not make sense any longer. How was this possible?\n\nBut Freddy, ever the skeptic, refused.\n\n“Mrs. L says you’re werewolves. But I don’t believe you.”\n\n“Did you not just see that stunt with the door, child?” The woman with the high voice asked, eyebrows arched.\n\n“Oh, well. Shall we see if we can convince this boy of the truth?” She asked, and without further ado, she stepped forward, holding out an elegant hand tipped with long, dirty claws. With another step, she growled low in her throat and there was an awful, nasty *squish* sound as she relieved him of his heart, blood spurting from his chest.\n\nWith another wicked, fanged grin, she asked, “Any more questions?”\n\n\\*\\*"
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[WP] Firetrucks, police cars, and ambulances are no longer on the same team.
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"Incident Report:\nDate: \n12/25/19\n\nResponding Officer:\nRandy Preacher\n\nSummary: \nDispatch sent myself and three other units, 3514, and K9 Unit 4881, and 6630 to a reported altercation between two groups of about 10 - 15 on the 3500 Block of South Wyndham. Shots were fired before we were called out. As we arrived on scene, we saw not only had the confrontation between the two groups had escalated into a full on gun fight across South Wyndham, there was also a structure fire. We blocked traffic from any responding units on both ends of South Wyndham, until we could detain the suspects and de-escalate the situation. I remembering hearing Officer Abrahms radio for back up, and the next thing I know, I wake up in the back of the K9 unit, soaking wet, my ribs felt broken, and Officer Fitzpatrick was driving wounded to the hospital.\n\n--------------------------\nIncident Report:\n\nDate:\n 12/25/19\n\nTruck: Truck 104.\n\nDescription:\n\nTruck 104 was dispatched to a structure fire at 3559 S. Wyndham. As we approached we saw multiple police units had blocked off the road, presumably to deter us from extinguishing the blaze. We deactivated our lights and sirens as we approached, assembled our hoses at the hydrant on the 3400 Block of South Wyndham. I personally sprayed an officer at the corner of S. Wyndham, who fell, and was pushed 25 - 30 yards, until lodged under one of the parked cars. We pushed one of the cruisers with the truck and positioned ourselves to take care of the fire. There was a firefight between the officers and civilians, so we offered support with our hoses to the civilians, while simultaneously trying to contain the fire. We called for another unit to offer assistsance in deterring the assault from the officers. We also offered first aid to some wounded civilians on the side of our truck that would offer cover from gunfire. That is until an EMS unit arrived on scene, then we....CONT ON NEXT PAGE -->\n\n-------------------------\nIncident Report:\n\nDate:\n12/25/19\n\nAmbulance: 322\n\nSummary:\nWe received a report of multiple wounded on South Wyndham, and approached from the 3600 block. It seems civilians were assisting the responding fire unit from the police unit who had blocked the street. We radioed assistance from Med-Evac chopper, and set-up our truck on the sidewalk of the 3600 block of Wyndham. We administered morphine to armed civilians, as well as first aid to those firing upon police and fire units. We had to use scalpels to subdue a K9 German Shepard. When Med Evac arrived, they dropped the paddles of their defibrillator into the water from the fire unit, and engaged them. The firefighters were stunned so we could administer first aid to civilians. One police cruiser then sped off. We counted 6 police causualties once the firefight ended. We administered syringes with air into the arteries of officers, to induce embolism and ensure death.\n\n--------------------------\nIncident Report:\n\nDispatch Operator: \nKaren Orofsky\n\nDate:\n\nSummary:\n Dear Sean, I told you not to schedule me Christmas! Enjoy the shit show. I quit, A-hole!"
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[WP] The first recorded audio from Mars is transmitted to earth. With video recording a baron wasteland experts expect to hear nothing but wind. But there is a voice in the emptiness.
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"No soul alive could place the sounds we heard that day. Once NASA posted the footage of the Mars rover it only took a few hours for the world to explode with questions. Conspiracy theorists called it a hoax, and linguists from the four corners of the globe each confirmed one by one that the dialog spoken matched nothing from the past millennia.\n\nTo me, the sound was unlike any I had ever heard, but in the same moment contained elements which seemed so familiar and dear to me. It was like the wind in the forest when all the birds had ceased their morning calls. It was like a wolf, howling at the moon that had long since waned into a small sliver of light; just a dim reminder of its former glorious light. \n\nThe strange audio persisted only for a few moments, but I could feel the shift. Still morose, but tighter. A hint of the familiar lament, but marked with smoldering anticipation.\n\nNot the howling of a wolf, but the rumble of a lion. \n\n\\- - -\n\nSomething aged and thoughtful adjusted the thick black cloak draped over its short body, leaning against the warm wind of the martian day. The small robotic car scanned the wasteland lazily, not noticing the two figures carefully out of its view.\n\n\"Is it time? It has been so long.\"\n\n\"Not yet my friend, but soon.\""
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[WP] After living a life full of crime, killings and theft, you die from a bullet to your heart during one of your bank heists. You arrive at the gates of hell, and to your surprise it is you standing on the other side smiling at you.
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"“How is this possible?”\n\n“How is *what* possible?” The man in front of me gestured vaguely around him. “That you died? Well, you were shot in the heart.”\n\n“Or do you mean, how is it possible that you’re in Hell? Well, that’s easy. You’re a piece of shit. You can’t murder and steal and end up anywhere else.”\n\n“No, no. I get all that,” I said, waving him off. How is it possible that you’re *me*?\n\n“Oh, hah!” the man, me, whoever he was, laughed heartily, shaking his head. “Yeah. I’ve been here so long I almost forgot about that.”\n\nI just stared.\n\nHe stopped laughing and straightened up. “Oh, you’re serious. Okay. Well, Heaven and Hell don’t exist *outside* the universe, but within it. You know how anything that travels at the speed of light doesn’t experience time?”\n\n“I don’t give a shit.”\n\n“Oh, ho!” he said. “I forgot I was such an asshole.”\n\n“Still are, from where I’m standing.”\n\n“I was funny, though,” he observed. “Still am.”\n\n“Anyway,” he said, “When you walk through that door”—he tossed a thumb over his shoulder—“you’re gonna become me, and me you. And any version of us that existed or might have existed will merge. You’re at what’s called The Great Merging. Creative, isn’t it?”\n\n“And that is?”\n\n“A point in time and space where all of your myriad forms meet in one place and merge to become one.”\n\n“If I don’t walk through the door?”\n\nI, I mean he, shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. A version of you somewhere else will, then you’ll become *them*.\n\n“Okay,” I said, and walked through the door....\n\n***************\n\nMy head hurt. I stared at... me?\n\n“How is this possible?”"
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[WP] In a world where everybody has superpowers, the power to control strings had always been pretty lame. One day you come to study string theory, and become a god.
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"\"So, Let me get this straight.\" I spoke, on the edge of my seat. \n\n\"You think that the entire world is actually made up of little strings?\"\n\n \"Yep!\" He replied.\n\n \"It explains so many of the cosmic coincidences.\"\n\n \"So then I can... You know, Control it?\"\n\n\"Let's see!\"\n\nI reach out, grasping at the tiny threads of life.\n\npulling,\n\npulling,\n\n\\*CRACK\\*\n\nwith a bolt, the desk disappears, never to be seen again.\n\n\"Huh, that's really ne-\"\n\n\\*CRACK\\*\n\nhe vanishes into thin air, leaving nothing behind.\n\nI stand up, tense with anxiety. \n\n\\*CRACK\\* \\*CRACK\\* \\*CRACK\\*\n\nmore and more disappears from the room, leaving nothing behind.\n\neventually, the building is gone.\n\nand the road.\n\nand with one final\n\n\\*CRACK\\*\n\nthe world dissaperates.\n\nand this is why you don't mess with strings,\n\ncause the universe is held together with\n\na \n\nsingle\n\nthread."
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[WP] You only wanted the drought to end. You never thought things would turn out this way.
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"Our feet patter against the scorched, dusty earth. We march towards the only source of water in a neat line. Perhaps from above, our bodies would merge together, appearing as just another fracture in the parched landscape.\n\n​\n\nWe move as a single entity with a common goal. I can only see the worker in front of me as my legs move in pace with hers, and hers surely with those before her, altogether in a synchronized Sisyphean locomotion.\n\n​\n\nThe skies above are a deep, cloudless azure. A few scant rain showers all season teased a downpour that never came. Slowly, the crops surrounding the colony began to wither, spreading outwards as time went on, as if afflicted by some invisible contagion. \n\n​\n\nMost of us had lived through lean seasons of past years and were certain that it would only be a matter of time before the land would be quenched. But now, we were not so sure. \n\n​\n\nI pick my head up from my monotonous journey, jostled by the familiar scent of the water ahead. Almost instinctively, we break from our formation, and begin gathering resources that may stave off extinction for yet another day. \n\n​\n\nI scurry towards the edge of the water, briefly pausing to appreciate the soft, spongey moss all around me. No one knows quite how far the water goes, and maybe there exists no end. From my vantage point, I can see home down in the flatlands below, closer than a day's journey would suggest.\n\n​\n\nThen, suddenly, an epiphany. We could bring the water to the colony. We would only need to dig a small channel to the side of the mountain, and the water could trickle down and bring life back to our land.\n\n​\n\nI begin clawing at the ground, displacing pebbles and roots in my attempt to direct the flow of water. The others begin taking notice, some even putting down their load to offer assistance. Soon, the water itself begins to aid us, eroding the dirt along its path as it makes its way towards the edge of the mountain.\n\n​\n\nFirst, just a trickle. It shoots bravely off the cliff, spends but a moment in the air, then lands with a distant splash. Then, the channel begins to widen, as the water draws naturally towards its downward path. We all step back, one eye on the widening gap of the channel, the other on the growing pool below.\n\n​\n\nThe ground below, harden from a season of deprivation, is unable to drink up the abundance and so the liquid sits atop, forming an expanding, glassy pond. But the flow doesn't stop, and soon the edge of the mountain begins crumbling under the weight of the raging stream.\n\n​\n\nPanic. We run in every direction. Some are flung off the edge, others slip into the water. I grab onto the thick stalk of a dandelion and desperately climb until I'm amongst the fluffy white seeds. It's then I see that the water has found its way to the nest, surely snaking its way through the tunnels, snuffing out life as it finds its way to the heart the colony."
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[WP] You are an operator of emergency helpline 119 which caters to supernatural creatures in need of assistance. Today you get a rather unexpected call.
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"\"This is one-one-nine. What is your emergency?\"\n\nSusie loved the call center. She got to help people while never even seeing them, which was very important for a gorgon. the only person she really had to deal with Algoramon, and he was a Golem! \n\nSusie and her snakes typed away at the keyboard while she listened to the call.\n\n\"Filnsworth! This device has talked to me! How am I supposed to talk through it if the channel is being used the other direction!?\"\n\nSusie was used to this kind of thing. After all, phones had only been in use for about a hundred years. Some creatures still had issues with it. Thankfully, it sounded like this one had a human servant of some capacity, so in the worst-case scenario she would just talk to 'Filnsworth.'\n\n\"It can work both ways? At the same time? Well!\" \n\n\"One-one-nine, can you please state your unnatural emergency.\"\n\n\"Right, well!\" The voice on the line cleared his throat. \"I am Viscount Herdaf Von Galvin Hargaarfjurd of the Hotin Hargaarfjurds. I need to request the aid of your services.\"\n\nSusie's head snakes typed in the name with lightning efficiency while she filed her nails.\n\n\"I understand that, can you give me your species classification and location, sir?\"\n\n\"I am a Lord of the Night! A fearsome creature that preys upon the fear and youth of nubile women.\"\n\n\"You'll have to be more specific, sir.\"\n\n\"Filnsworth! This talking object insults me!\"\n\nSusie examined her freshly-filed nails as the conversation between the Viscount and Filnsworth filtered into her headset.\n\n\"...but acts as if she doesn't know who I am! My name was feared throughout the countryside! What? What do you mean she may not be from Hotin? This is...\"\n\nSusie grabbed her bottled water and took a long draw. She counted in her head to thirty, then cleared her own throat into the mic.\n\n\"Sir, if you could please state your species and your emergency, we have other creatures in need of our services.\"\n\n\"Yes, well!\" The Viscount huffed so hard it blew static over the line. \"I am a Vampyr, a noble creature who will-\"\n\n\"Vamp, got it.\"\n\n\"I am not a 'vamp,' I am a Vampyr! This is-\"\n\n\"What is the nature of your emergency?\"\n\n\"Is that all you can say?\"\n\n\"Please, Sir, just describe the nature of your emergency.\"\n\nThere was a long silence, which Susie used to untangle a pair of her head snakes and took another drink. \n\n\"My manservant explains to me that we have misplaced our directions and wondered into a... dangerous part of the city.\"\n\n\"Is anyone injured?\"\n\n\"Of course not! Vampyrs are immortal, impervious to any and all-\"\n\n\"Uh-huh. And is anyone in immediate danger?\"\n\n\"Of course, that is the purpose of calling upon your service, is it not? To remove us from danger?\"\n\n\"Mhm. And what is the nature of the danger, sir?\"\n\nAnother long pause.\n\n\"Filnsworth informs me that we have become trapped by the rather aromatic nature of a...what? I am not certain that I understand it. He calls it an 'Italian Street Festival.' Filnsworth, why are they celebrating Italian streets? What? that doesn't-\"\n\nSusie rolled her eyes. \"Of course, Sir. I will direct a Vampyr-spec extraction vehicle to the location on your phone. They are all trained in anti-garlic containment procedures. Please remain where you are until the vehicle is on site. Thank you for calling one-one-nine.\"\n\n\"You have done a great service to my house, I, Viscount Herdaf Von-\"\n\nSusie clicked the next call button and hummed a little to herself. She really loved this job."
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[WP] You're watching the Online World Population Clock, but after some time, the numbers start to drop. First by the hundreds, then thousands, millions, until it settles on two. The world is eerily quiet around you. You decide to investigate.
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"The computer screen and the lights immediately shut down. That's when I felt something was wrong. I got up from my seat and walked to the window. No one was on the streets. I went to the elevators, but the elevators weren't working. I decided to go down by the stairwell, and when I reached the first floor, the library's entire first floor was empty. \n\n\"Hello?\" I shouted. \"Is anybody in here? Hello?\"\n\nGrowing extremely anxious, I left the building. No one - not a single student, professor, staff member - was on the pedestrian pathways or the streets. I felt all alone. I reached for my cell phone. It was still working all right, with 90% battery life left, but as soon as I made my call home, I knew something was terribly wrong. There was no service. I closed my eyes. *Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god*. "
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[WP] You've accidentally opened a portal to mirror world. Everything seems the same except your double is the opposite gender and somehow more successful. Oddly enough, your mirror double thinks you're the more successful one.
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"This is my first reply to a writting prompts so all kinds of feedback are welcomed. Please, enjoy the story and let me know what you thought of it :)\n\n\\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nIt was a beautiful autumn evening in the city of Arkent. The setting sun painted the sky in gorgeous colors, making the scenery so pleasing to the eye that any sort of artist could easily find themselves greatly inspired just by looking at it. And yet, such sight was of little relevance to a thirty year old man named John Harton. In fact, he probably wasn't even aware of the sight in the first place, for he was 30 feet below the ground, standing in the basement of his apartment building. Before him stretched a seemingly endless tunnel, a find that was the result of a few days' of effort on John's part. It began with him noticing strange phenomena going on in the basement. Gusts of wind coming from nonsensical places, sounds from beyond thick concrete walls. It was all very much intriguing to him. Getting the building plans was no easy feat, of course, but John's diplomas in a number of trades allowed him to avoid raising any suspicion. It took but a few hours of study for him to realize that, according to the blueprints, the basement shouldn't even exist. It took a few more to knock down one of his basement's walls. And so, there he stood, sledgehammer at his feet, a flashlight in his hand, and excitement clearly painted on his face, ready to explore the tunnel and the place to which it lead.\n\n​\n\nThe tunnel itself was not much to look at. Nothing really grabbed John's attention, and that says a lot for he was a very observant man. At it's end, however, was something that would grab anyone's attention. John found himself, inexplicably, right where he started. His basement. Though, in spite of his bemusement, he moved on, going up towards the ground floor of his apartment building, taking great care to avoid being seen. There, he exited onto the street. Before him stretched an all too familiar neighborhood, a neighborhood that he knew as well as the back of his hand, for it was his own neighborhood, the one he was living in for the past five years of his life. Still, something felt wrong about it. Taking a walk around the streets, he saw people that he knew – people that would often greet him and that he would greet back. And yet, now it seemed as if they ignored his very existence. Clearly they were aware of him but they did not seem to actually know him.\n\n​\n\nNot thirty minutes had passed and John was already back at his apartment, his mind filled with questions. Where did the tunnel truly lead? What was it that he had actually discovered? Should he keep this a secret, known only to himself, or should he talk to someone about it? Laying at his bed, he desperately tried to make sense of what he saw. And yet, he could reach no answer. But that didn't mean he could not make a decision. He had questions. Now he needed explanations. It took less than half an hour for John’s first adventure to come to an end. It took less than five, for his second to begin.\n\n​\n\nThe following week John spent most of his time on the other side of the tunnel rather than his own. He wandered around the streets of \"Arkent Beta\" as he called it, taking mental and handwritten notes of all that he had seen. It didn't take much effort for him to form a theory on what was going on. \"I must have discovered a mirror world\" he figured. It took him significantly less effort to confirm that theory. All he had to do was to simply knock on the door of his Beta parents' house. When they didn't recognize him, he knew he was correct. This Beta universe was similar to John's own in all but the tiniest details. Not enough to create a significant difference between the two worlds, but enough so that a careful observer could tell them apart. One of the more obvious – and curious – ones was the lack of John Beta.\n\n​\n\nInitially, Mr. Harton thought that the version of him in this universe simply didn't live in Arkent. Or, maybe, it didn't live at all. His encounter with his parents changed that. It seemed that Beta John was never born in the first place. His friends didn't seem to recognize him. His apartment was occupied by a woman. But this woman was the only clue that John had. The only thread that he could follow. He needed answers. More answers than what he already had, for every answer he got so far did nothing but give birth to new questions. Answers about this mirror world. How it came to be. Why did it differ – however slightly – from his own. And this woman – Jennifer was her name – was the starting point of John's research.",
"I couldn't believe it. I wasn't sure what was going on. A woman had just tumbled through my bathroom mirror and broken my sink. \n\n\"I hope you're going to pay for that,\" I told her as she rubbed her head. She looked up at me, but she didn't seem too concerned about it. I had yet to hear any apology, and was becoming incensed. I could hardly afford the rent, let alone the sink or any other repairs.\n\n\"Sorry, sorry,\" she said sheepishly. \"I'm just glad that it worked.\"\n\n\"Glad *what* worked?\" I asked. I liked this lady less and less by the second. She was eating up precious time; the kids would be getting out of school in just a couple of hours, so I didn't exactly have time to kill. \n\n\"The portal I designed! I was able to prove the multiverse theory and I invented a way to travel between them!\" I thought maybe this was an elaborate prank, but I wasn't exactly sure how to explain the whole \"came through the mirror\" bit. She seemed nice enough, but I wasn't going to play host anymore.\n\n\"Please just give me some money for the sink and leave.\" I was as frank as I could be. I had enough on my plate, and I just wanted this woman to leave. She went into her wallet and pulled out around one thousand dollars. I was surprised she complied so easily, and she was easily giving me too much. Not that I was going to tell her that.\n\n\"What's your name, lady?\" I was a little less angry now. She had practically replaced my sink and paid this month's rent for me after all. I could at least give her the time of day.\n\n\"Nicole,\" she said. Interesting, my name was Nicholas. \"Nicole Vondrasek.\" Now I was curious. The only other people I knew with that last name were in my family.\n\n\"Are we related? My name's Nicholas Vondrasek.\" I put my hand out to shake hers, but she seems hesitant.\n\n\"Sorry, I'm just not sure if it's a good idea for me to touch anyone while i'm here.\"\n\n\"Don't be ridiculous. It's just a handshake.\" She looked at my hand hesitantly before grabbing my hand. She seemed pleased when nothing happened and shook my hand vigorously. \"So,\" I began. \"What's your plan to get home? I don't see any multiverse portals around here.\"\n\nShe looked at the mirror, touched it, and was subsequently horrified, yet reassured by her predicament.\n\n\"I'm trapped here,\" she said quietly. Then she seemed relieved. \"I'm trapped here! No reason to go back anyway! I'm sorry, can I stay with you?\" She whirled around, quick as the wind and posed the question to me. Reflexively I denied her.\n\n\"Sorry, I've got enough on my plate between two kids and two jobs.\" I explained. \"I can't afford to have live-in guest.\" She seemed to understand at first but she seemed insistent.\n\n\"I've only got to stay here long enough to figure out what the difference between this universe and my own is. That and build a new multidimensional portal. I may be relieved to get away from them but I do have a life over there.\"\n\nI wasn't sure where she was thinking that she would get the budget for that project was, but I wasn't going to support her while she did it.\n\n\"Look, lady, I really can't afford to have you here.\" I started.\n\n\"Please! I'll work, I'll bring in money and you can have anything that you need, I just need a place to stay while I find a company or something to fund me.\" I sighed.\n\n\"I'll give you two weeks to find a job, if you can't find one by then I'm kicking you out.\" She nodded respectfully. \"I've got to go run some errands before I pick up my kids. You're coming with me.\" She seemed confused.\n\n\"Why am I coming with you?\" she asked.\n\n\"Because you're a stranger and I don't trust you.\" I told her. She may have been kind, but I've been bitten by more than one snake.\n\nAs we piled into the car, she looked around.\n\n\"Where are we?\" she asked.\n\n\"Queens,\" I responded. \"You never seen a suburb before?\"\n\nShe looked around in wonder at the scenery as we drove past it all.\n\n\"Where I come from, Queens is the inner city,\" she said. \"Not exactly the safest of places.\" Interesting, I thought. I pulled up to a D-Mart store. The big blue letters on the white background were almost comforting.\n\n\"D-Mart? What's the D stand for?\"\n\n\"I don't know, probably Disney.\" She halted in her place.\n\n\"You mean like the movies?\" she said.\n\n\"What movies?\" Now I was confused.\n\n\"Like Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty?\" It was almost desperation in her voice.\n\n\"Walton movies?\" I asked. She was confused. I dropped it and kept walking into the department store. \n\nAs we walked around I figured I needed to get to know her better, especially if she was going to be living with us. I almost wanted to back out of that at this point, but I always felt like I was a man of my word.\n\n\"Do you have kids waiting back at home?\" I asked her.\n\n\"No. Never really wanted them, and I was infertile anyways.\" She was rather frank about it. I was kind of taken aback by that. \"What about you, what do you do for a living?\"\n\n\"I work as a teller at a gas station Mondays through Wednesdays. Thursdays through Saturdays I work as a Waiter at a diner.\"\n\n\"What about your parents?\" I felt it was a little personal, but she had just tole me she was infertile so I felt compelled to tell her.\n\n\"Mom was an artist, dad was a marine biologist.\" I said. Nicole stopped so fast I thought she had hit something.\n\n\"I just found out the difference between your universe and mine.\" She said."
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[WP] As Voyager II leaves the solar system, scientists are flabbergasted to discover that the probe simply appears in Nasa's HQ. In its memory banks is a single phrase, "**** Has Left the Playable area, and has been returned to spawn."
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"everyone was silenced by this phrase. it wasn't possible to comprehend. words were floating through their minds, but none loud enough to be heard. After a long second that felt like an hour people started to react. some laughed, some cried, there was something else out there. there were skeptics of course, people who thought it was a prank, a joke from some tech support but there was no way it could have been, the probe had the info gathered, the remenants of star dust, and a big dent where it must have hit something large and metallic. it wasn't long before the news broke out, even though there was an indefinite embargo people talked, cash was too alluring for them and the insanity of it all was too much. the media knew something was up and it only took 2 days for all the details to come out.\n\npt.1 (first ever prompt sorry) ",
" Eight scientists with a total of thirteen Phds (and two engineers) crowded around the flashing readout on an intern’s monitor, the one they used for illicit inquisition (professional and not) because he was there so infrequently and always came to staff parties but nobody could ever remember as having contributed to the communal recreation fund. All other readouts read a continuation of the mathematically coherent curving projected path, but our clever geese had known to look deeper long ago.\n\n​\n\n“Welp.” Huffed a liver-spotted man in his late-seventies with a wiry white beard rereading the taunting text over low circular glasses through narrowed beady eyes, his life’s work now completed in this confirmation. A nagging suspicion reached out from the single digit years of his life to pat his shoulder in empty consolation. “I guess… we’re confirmed.”\n\n​\n\nThe gravity of this could not be overstated. It had long been the suspicions of every person in this room, confided in lunch rooms with hushed tones and constituted the basis of the truest form of trust and sense purpose they had ever experienced, that they would one day discover something of precisely this nature and they had undertaken a quest in that pursuit as *raison d’etre*. The decades-long undertaking had more recently involved a lengthy process involving cutting through the flooring to access wiring not included in the structural blueprints of the facility, but which would have *had* to be there if their inferences about the administration, life and reality had been correct and confirm the real truth each had been chasing intuitively from the beginning of their now-provably digital lives. They’d soldered boards and hand-wound custom wire to match the likes of which they’d discerned running conduit beneath their feet to access their sensory equipment for mere minutes at a time for many years. It all coalesced to run through a tangle of just-good-enough processors filled with terabytes of personally coded circuitry deciphering what must have been, they reasoned, output to the *a priori* necessitated cabal of multinational directors monitoring and perhaps guiding humanity’s development (including their own) to unknown purpose throughout recorded history with links to the unimaginable reality superseding their own.\n\n​\n\n“Let’s shut it down.” After a long blinking a USB slid limp from the back of the computer, and in silence each in turn shuffled back to their computer, the wind knocked from their bodies. Drained of meaning, yes, but filled anew with purpose. They had all of them sacrificed their lives up to this point in dedication to this, the ultimate probability and the bottleneck question that must, they felt, be satisfied.\n\n​\n\nNow, they could relax, and life could begin.\n\n​\n\nThe torture was in not knowing. If life were authentic it naturally followed that the authenticity would need be codified to discern a number of logical endpoints that would unravel the natural state of man, the natural order, and the probability of divinity as well as a nexus of likelihoods and certainties far too vast and important to attempt to detail here. That authenticity could now be released. Their rebirths were at hand.\n\n​\n\nThey called loved ones and professed admiration. They booked flights to vacation spots they’d spent forever neglecting. They wrote emails, some of apology to those they were ashamed of hurting and others admonishing and forgiving villains from their past they’d always resented. They went about spending their money, experimenting, playing. They found laughter of a depth and fullness they’d forgotten having lost. They bonded. They slept together and professed love to old flames. They abandoned addictions and habits, experimenting with new ones. They wrote. They read fiction. They sat in the sun and learned to love foods they thought they hated. They volunteered. Some abandoned religion, others took it on.\n\n​\n\nThey embraced themselves and each other with a vigor and fullness they had never conceived of. They deconstructed their contraption and told no-one of their new understanding.\n\n​\n\nIt was enough."
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[WP] Today has been a little different. As an example: You are currently watching ice melt fire.
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"Feckless Sam sat upon the outcrop and watched the rain rise from the lake. It fell straight up until they were whipped into a plume of mist that stretched away like a string of wild stallions, corralled by the mountains at the western edge of the highlands. Over the waters was a gauzy bowl of mist, but he could still mark the exact location of where he’d moored their travel-weary dinghy.\n\nCorrine the Twice-Red sat a dozen paces from him, hunched about the wound in her shoulder. Feckless’ own body tensed in sympathy. He could see the blood weeping through her quilted coat.\n\nIt had just been a nick to begin with. The tip of the bolt had punched through Corrine’s breastplate, but the steel of her armor had turned the path away from her heart, caught the shaft before it entered her flesh. She’d broken it off, and at the same time completed the distance to the crossbowman, trampling the scorpion as he threw it down in surrender. As he'd fled, she’d cut the coward in half.\n\nSmall Peter had cleaned Corrine’s shoulder, packed it with herbs, but the body behaved strangely these days. The world behaved strangely. The universe had been turned about on its head, Small Peter had explained, though not everything was affected, and not all that was affected was influenced to the same degree.\n\nThe week after they’d landed on these shores, Peter had shared his thoughts on the nature of things. “Like rivers, flowing in opposing directions. We sit our boat along one, and travelling along the other is an identical boat, with identical occupants.”\n\n“There are two Fecklesses, you’re saying,” Corrine had said. Feckless had blown wind out of his nose, snorted.\n\n“Two of you and me as well. Except, time travels in one direction for us, and in the opposite direction for the other party. The cataclysm, however--” Feckless had noted that Peter avoided his eyes whenever he brought up the subject. “It is a trench dug between the embankment between rivers. They spill into each other and now the currents are confused. The passengers now go forwards, go backwards, spin in circles. Act contrary to their nature.”\n\nPeter then told them about how the Emerald Sea now flowed in reverse, draining up to the peaks of Dagon’s Spine. “A wondrous sight,” he had said, gazing to where those distant ranges lay. A multitude of streams ran up sheer walls, and he’d once witnessed a school of salmon leap from such a tributary only to be overcome by gravity and fall a thousand feet to the scree below.\n\nThe thought of it only made Feckless shiver. He could see the evidence of Peter’s claims all too plainly. Living things that grew large instead grew small. They ate to keep from growing full, and the meat that they hunted, they left out in the sun until the poisons spoiled and it was safe to consume.\n\nFires chilled the air. Wounds that should heal grew deeper.\n\nCorrine groaned where she sat on the tilled earth. Vibrant sprouts that three months before had been wheat taller than her waist pricked the soil all about. She’d drawn her legs to her knees and was now trying to stand. Across her chest, the red stain spread visibly, glistening before soaking into her coat.\n\nFeckless’ chest hitched and he felt an ache in his heart that ran deeper than any blade could reach. He knew that in some, what was remembered was forgotten, while what had been forgotten was remembered. Feckless was not so fortunate. He remembered what he remembered.\n\nTwice-red he’d named her decades ago, when they were still children. Once for the color of her face as he’d caught her climbing into the longhall window. Twice for the blood on her fists after she’d knocked him into the mud. She’d given him his name that same day. It was unfair he’d argued, untrue, but she had made it stick.\n\nAnother season, another place. Feckless stood, shed his coat, and loosened his sword.\n\nCorrine had risen to her knees and she had a hand upon the weapon that she’d thrust into the loose soil. Leaning upon the hilt, she leveraged herself to full standing.\n\nHe could still see then clearly as now, the night Small Peter had bound their hands in marriage. Stars and black branches against her hair as they lay panting atop one another in the cider groves. A mere season before the cataclysm had turned light to dark, sweet to bitter. A year since today.\n\nShe pulled the sword from the earth, flicked away the infant green that clung to the blade. “Sam Feckless….” Her voice was flat. The unnatural rain fell behind her and a gust of wind blew a wall of spray against her back, soaked her hair, and the weird-weight of it lifted the strands like black serpents.\n\nSmall Peter had died the night before in the throes of a strange fever. The fire that burned in all living things had turned cold in him. He’d lain in his sheets, bone dry, spotted red and white. The water that Corrine had held up for him frosted against his lips and yet he still moaned, *Hot...so hot….* His ill flesh took in the heat of the air, made his skin icy to the touch, but he burned from within. Before long, the smell of cooked flesh drove both Feckless and Corrine from the room, and they’d left him there, no heart left to attend to their friend’s dignity.\n\n“You challenged forces you did not understand,” Corrine said, crushing the new green back into the earth as she moved toward Feckless. “Innocent men died. Good men. Friends.”\n\nFeckless didn’t argue, couldn’t. It didn’t matter what he had or hadn’t done. Falsehood was truth. *Or was it the other way around?* Nonetheless, it was now known to the world that he had committed the ultimate evil; the men that had hunted them across the country knew that to their core.\n\n“Did I?” He said. Corrine came at him with her sword raised. *My love!* Feckless almost said, though there was no love in her eyes: just a hate that wound tight every sinew in her body as she brought the sword down upon his head. He raised his arm in time to catch her blow, but strength now waxed in the bodies of the dying, and the clash drove the flat of his own blade into his nose and he reeled, vision stunned, tasting the void in his head.\n\nHe blocked her back-swing out of sheer instinct. Their swords sang a discordant harmony and they notched against one another--steel turned soft as lead. Corrine turned his locked weapon from his grasp, wrenched it it out of his hand, and sent it tumbling over the dark fields. When she kicked him, it felt like being struck by a horse full in the chest, and he flew sideways into and over the outcrop that he’d been sitting on.\n\nAs he bounced over the table of stone, pain thundering through his hip, she was already leaping it, hilt in both hands, driving the point down to stake him. Feckless was scrabbling at the dirt as soon as he hit the ground, rolling to meet the killing blow. He saw the flash of sun on steel, brought his fist up--futile--and felt the blade punch through hand and skull--\n\nBut no. He’d caught it. He opened his eyes from the darkness he thought was death, and saw.\n\nShe was straddling him, face leaning down over the crossguard, a silent scream stretched across her face, wet hair now plastered to her forehead and the corners of her mouth. The point of her sword was bobbing a thumbs-width above Feckless’ nose. In his hand he clutched a handful of dirt and roots. And also, the long green stem of a new-sprouted shoot. It lay lengthwise across his field of vision, bending gently under the weight of both sword and swordswoman. The veins in the leaves glowed like clouds, and split around the thin stem, perfectly balanced, was the point of the sword. Feckless’ arm trembled. His elbow was braced hard against the ground beside his head.\n\nHe looked up. The rage in Corinne’s face slackened and the weight lessened on Feckless’ arm. Sword and stem fell away to one side as she sat back atop him. There was a rawness in her eyes, an expression on her that trembled on the precipice of revelation. Blood soaked her from collarbone to sternum, dripped and padded onto his own coat when she moved. Where the droplets struck, they scattered like a handful of rubies flung to the sky. He let his hand fall to the dirt and, finally, he breathed. And then she pulled the dagger from behind her back and drove it into his chest.\n\nThere was no pain. Feckless retched hot blood, trembled. With bloodied fingers, he pulled at the fabric pinned beneath the coiled copper hilt. The force of the blow had crushed his sternum and in its hollow, blood began to pool. He gurgled again before his strength left him, and he died without further argument.\n\nHis body fell away and so did the ground beneath it. He saw it sprawled in the field, and hers also, fallen to one side, her legs tangled around his. He thought he would begin to rise or else that he would dissipate into nothingness, but instead, the world flattened, spread out before him like a map.\n\nHe saw the dark square of bare earth where he and his wife lay and the cabin that was Small Peter’s final resting place. The short river and the lake with its little earthbound raincloud lay to the east of this, and beyond that, the horseshoe ring of the highland mountains. He knew where to find Dagon’s Spine and the Emerald Sea, and he could, if he wanted, brush the tips of the spires of the Fifteen States. But there was more, beyond the waters. Other lands, other peoples. All this unrolled before him, and as he looked past them, he saw that all curved up and over and around, a perfect sphere, with him residing at its center.\n\nThere was nothing beyond the threshold of death, he knew, but then what was this? He reached out, spun the globe, watched light and shadow pass over the lands and the waters. Watched the continents drift, the waters rise and recede.\n\nEverything. From nothingness, everything. And everyone. And her."
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[WP] It turns out that Earth culture is unique in the galaxy for its food. Everywhere else food is just nourishment, but on Earth it is an art form. As a result Earth has become a huge tourist destination for aliens looking to experience good cooking for the first time.
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" A raucous party-mobile whizzed past overhead as Byron walked on the wet alleys, his shoes clicking on the space-age metal cobbles. Click, click, click, as he thought about the end of his destination. As every step brought him closer to the underbelly of the human experience. He brought his cigarette to his mouth, feeling the burn on his lips as his mind travelled back in time.\n\nFood had long been one of the best experiences of the human condition, and Byron was no stranger to that. With one of the most gifted tongues in the world, he was born a prodigy. Someone who gourmet chefs requested an audience with to test their recipes, someone who grew up with the best of the best food every day, slowly learning the intricacies of the interplay between flavor, texture, smell and technique. Of course, that was before.\n\nBefore, he thought, pushing his mind back to his days of learning to cook. With the experience of the best foods in the world, Byron was able to mix together combinations and techniques that no one thought would work, except him. With his taste as his guide, he moved forward and created countless dishes, pushed the envelope in the science of cooking and was hailed far and wide as one of the innovators of the culinary space. Before.\n\nOne day, as he prepared his lunch, a simple salad of chickpeas garnished with olives and dressing, the television began an emergency broadcast. The ominous universal warning sound played, before fading to the President of the United World standing at his podium, speaking to the entire world in that one moment of desperation.\n\n“Intelligent extraterrestrial life has made contact with us”, he said. “They wish to exchange cultural information with us, and do not seem to bear ill will.” \n\nThe next few days were full of changes for the world, with many humans having to come to terms with the fact that they were not at the center of the universe anymore. They were simply another plant, they learned, in an entire galaxy full of frequently occurring intelligent life. They learnt that there was a booming space trade occurring since millennia, throwing open an entire market of various produce, goods and technology for the human race to explore.\n\nExplore they did, satiating their endless appetite for consumerism. Capitalism ruled supreme, as the entire universe was now open for humanity to explore, at the tips of their finger. The constellations presented a veritable all-you-can-eat to the humans, giving them the key to the door of the heavens far above them.\n\nIronic that it was looked at as a buffet for the avarice of humans, as they quickly realized something. A realization that would change the state of the human condition forever. To maintain a standing in the galactic market, they would need to offer up some sort of product as well. Coincidentally, the leaders of the human race hit upon this realization at the same time that the extraterrestrials discovered gourmet cuisine.\n\nByron leaned against the walls of the alley as he recalled those early days. The days where the world was heady with the discovery of new worlds, technologies and cultures. The days where the greed had not quite set in yet, and the days where he played out his life’s calling as a chef revolutionizing the world of cooking. The days where good food was a passion, and not a trade.\n\nWith the discovery of fine dining, the aliens gorged themselves on ribeye steak, caviar, matsutake mushrooms. the finest wines and cheeses, truffles and lobsters. The word of the food on Earth spread far and wide, with news soon emerging to the humans that the food in the rest of the galaxy was simply for sustenance.\n\nAliens began flocking to Earth, with robust infrastructure being built quickly with the help of their technology. All this, while humans had to watch their entire planet being treated like a tourist destination.\n\nIn order to fund their greed of information and materialistic goods, world powers quickly began capitalizing on the food industry. Soon, the entire world saw a huge boom in food, with new restaurants, fast food joints and diners opening on almost every corner of every street in the world. \n\nEvery capable human was pushed into cooking, forced to spend their life making enough credits to push forward to the next day. Science and research became a luxury, food quickly taking over every facet of humanity’s existence as their greed began consuming themselves like an Ouroboros.\n\nByron flicked his cigarette to the ground, stepping on it with his foot as he stood in front of the grey metal door in front of him. Chiding himself bringing up ancient history from hundreds of years ago, he took a deep breath as he pushed open the door.\n\nHis army of chefs looked up at him as he entered, hundreds all giving him their attention as he stood above them. Chuckling at the way things had worked out, he barked out orders for his cooks to continue their job and walked towards a door covered in velvet.\n\nInside, an atmosphere of absolute comfort and luxury. A room reserved only for the best of their customers, where only the intergalactic elite could taste the fruits of his labor. Today, he was serving the King of the Milky Way, the most important person in the galaxy. Before he garnished his plate of perfect cooking, Byron smiled painfully as he thought how things would be if he hadn’t served his best dish when the aliens first came.",
"My dearest Walana,\n\nMy company has asked that I stay on Earth for another month. A language barrier hinders our progress in establishing our new travel agency in the Earthling settlement they call Moskva. We failed to anticipate the need to learn another tongue, and the Earthlings here don’t seem to understand the one we learned in Granada.\n\nI can’t say I’m entirely disappointed my work here has been lengthened. Earth is a weird place, and the Earthlings weirder.\n\nIt’s far colder here in Moskva than it is Granada or at home, but the cold air on Earth carries with it a scent who’s source is indiscernible. I find it quite pleasing.\n\nHaving spent more time here, the Earthlings’ relationship with their nourishment is no longer baffling.\n\nPeople make themselves celebrities on Earth’s television by teaching people how to better prepare their food. I find myself unable to look away when it’s on. They celebrate by turning their grains into something sweet. They build what they call culinary schools, where Earthlings study their nourishment. Not what and how much they need, though. Earthlings, or at least some of them, spend years of their lives studying it’s preparation.\n\nLast night, our business partners gifted us a shared feast. Here on Earth, the sharing of nourishment is a sign of a friendship, a form of bonding, and, oddly, one of the most prominent forms of recreation. \n\nFirst they brought us soup made from one of their vegetables kept edible in a container of vinegar. It was sour, but purposely, and pleasingly, so. They then gave us thin breads they called Blini. They topped them with eggs harvested from fish, or meats and spreads made from the secretion of their animals, or a melted sauce made from odd beans and a sweet plant and the tiny fruits picked from bushes. I indulged myself. So much so that discomfort in my mid section would disallow me from restful sleep. I needed no more nourishment, but still found myself unable to stop eating.\n\nAnd their ethanol! \n\nI know, it’s surprising they know of ethanol without access to Aquila or the means to isolate or process it. \n\nThe Earthlings have tiny creatures willing to make it for them. The ethanol of choice in Moskva hurts to drink. It burns from the tongue to the belly. But, the ethanols called Tempranillo and sangria, given to us Granada, were both delightful. Divine, even. \n\nOne must be careful when consuming ethanol with the Earthlings, though. In the matter of an hour, singing can turn to screaming, screaming to fighting, fighting to hugging, and hugging back to singing. The Earthlings are charming and kind, but also unpredictable and their actions sometimes inexplicable and scary.\n\nMuch of their food won’t last for the trip home, but I’ll bring with me preserved fruits and the dried meat of their animals.\n\nMy love, being away from you has been hard. But, I’ve shed all doubts I had in our investment. Earth will soon be the most visited travel destination, and we will soon be wealthy. Very wealthy.\n\nYou must join me next time.",
"There is no food in the galaxy that compares to the glory of cheese.\n\nOur historians say that humankind figured it out while they were still nomadic herders, as a way to preserve milk. Scald it, add to it juice from the stomach of a baby animal, a little sodium chloride for taste... sounds disgusting but it is simply amazing. Over the generations they learned to add specialized microbes, started aging it in caves for years on end...until the variety of cheeses became almost as numerous as the variety of fruits on the planet.\n\nAnd this was not glorious enough for them. Humans stuff other bits of food with cheese, or melt it on top of things, or even make soups with it. Or sometimes they eat it straight, accompanied with a bit of ethanol.\n\nDid I mention that you aren't hungry again for hours? *Hours!!* No wonder so many of these guys carry extra weight on their bodies. They just keep eating it- it's that good.\n\nTurns out, though, that the wide variety of cheeses came about due to a wide variety of humans. Our universal translator hasn't picked up all the languages these guys speak. They pay each other with bits of paper, or plastic cards, but there are many of these and they don't all work everywhere, either. I was dining in a place nestled among cold, high mountains and I put down the pieces of paper. The server got agitated and started babbling indignantly at me. I looked harder at the paper and noticed the humans drawn on it did not look like the humans in front of me. How...*gauche* of me? Is that the right word? So I put down a tiny black card made of metal, which surprised them. They took it to their computer, then tossed it back at me, saying \"Expired.\" Strange. Metal does not rot...they were getting mad.\n\nThen I noticed a yellow metal on the hands of one of the servants. Eureka! I dug into my bag and came back with a little jar full of crumbs of the same metal. Atomic mass around 197. I found it on one of my hikes and gathered some up. They eyed this, motioned me to stay. They called in someone from outside, who came with a little machine and a scale. They appeared to test it, then nodded and smiled. I asked if I could have a \"wheel\" of cheese for the road, and they gave me THREE- of the good stuff. They seemed very happy with the deal.\n\nSo now I just exchange some of the paper for the yellow stuff.\n\nRight now I am in a different set of mountains which are mildly volcanic. An elderly female is cooking for me, and I am the only one in the restaurant. The locals just slunk out, nervous. I don't know why- I checked my disguise thoroughly before coming to the region.\n\nBut here...they do wonderful things. They have a dish they call *queso fundido.* It's just a plate of melted cheese with bits of meat in it that you slather on some flat maize cake thingy. I ate four plates of it. Their ethanol comes in tiny glasses and is potent. The female eventually just left me the bottle. I hear her mutter *pinche gringo* at her stove. Was that meant for me to hear? I am not sure. She brings out another dish. It's full of stuff from from the *Solonacae* family, some of which is stuffed full with...you guessed it...more cheese. Creamy, melty cheese. And spices. I asked for seconds and polished off the bottle of ethanol.\n\nAt last, I am full. I take out my supply of yellow metal and fill the ethanol glass with it. And I figured out that in these mountains, it is customary to leave extra money for the servants. A *propina.* I fish out a few blue pieces of paper with cetaceans printed on them and leave them at the table. The elderly female's eyes go wide. I nod at her, say \"Thank you,\" and make my best attempt at a smile. She seems to be fighting the urge to run away. I guess I have to work on it.\n\nAnd I will, because I'll be back. I've heard about another delicacy served further north: it's called Deep Dish Pizza. I can't wait!\n\n​\n\nMy other stories are at r/Hazelnightengale",
"It's Sunday and I am going to a family get-together. I note the chilly Appalachian air as I make my way up the walk. The sky is ice blue and yet I brave this inclement weather because I've thought of nothing else all week, grandma's biscuits. They make life here worth living.\n\nOn the porch I ring the bell and wait a moment before opening the door and stepping inside to the smells of cooking cinnamon apples, and fried fatback. Being here hits me hard in the stomach. It's so worth the trip.\n\n\"Good morning Grandma,\" I bellow, but being more deaf then willing to wear a hearing aid she doesn't look up. \n\nI stand and watch her use corn-oil to saturate the flour, salt and buttermilk are added and it all seems simple until she actually forms the biscuits. It's here in this moment the magic happens. Something about how she turns the loose mess into flaky perfection with flips and presses of her hands. \n\nShe calls it kneading. \n\nI call it impossible. \n\nI've never had biscuits like these, anywhere, and when they are almost done and the sausage gravy bubbles away, and the scrambled eggs steam heaped on a plate for service, is a moment of pure joy for me, worth traveling the universe for. \n\nAs Grandma pinches loose dough balls into soon to be baked delights, I turn and face the rest of her family. They are here for the same purpose, but none seem too happy at the moment even with all the charming smells wafting in the air. \n\nThe little girl starts crying, well actually she is sucking air into her suddenly traumatized face trying to cry. The older human sitting next to her, whom I can only assume is her mother, tries to shush her. \n\nAll I do is chuckle, realizing I am not who I said I would be. Seems in my desire to get a seat at the table I neglected to phase.\n\nA quick click with one of my tentacles and the problem is fixed. In the mirror over the china hutch, I run my hands through grey hair and smile at the still petrified family, promising myself if they ruin this for me I will melt all their faces before enjoying my breakfast. \n\n\"Father Jim, you came?\" Grandma says turning around with a baking sheet covered in uncooked biscuits. \"Would you be a dear and get the oven door for me?\"\n\nI smile back at her and say, \"yes my child,\" stomach grumbling knowing I'd do anything to help.\n\n\n"
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[WP] You know every secret ever. Be it government, historical, or any individual. You know which conspiracy is true and which one is false. Write a story on how you'd destroy the world with all this information.
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"I sent out the email to every email on earth from the President's email address. It contained one word, June. The subject line was: Get Ready. The body copy contained June. Following the mass confusion I sat back and remained waiting patiently at an undisclosed location. 3 days pass. I log back into the President's email. The whole world waiting for what was to come and predications came from all locations. I type in the subject line. New date moved. The body copy, one word, July. I send the message electronically back to the whole world. 3 more days pass. The New Year comes and goes. I type back into the president's email drafts. Only 1 question. I send it out. Millions of questions come back pouring in. I write another email an hour after I send that one. In the subject I write tomorrow you need to overthrow. END\n\n"
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[WP] You are a demon that is sick of getting summoned by edgy teens and the likes. The majority of your clients use your powers for "boring" tasks. So you concoct a plan to establish the infamy of demons in hopes of getting nice and demonic tasks once again.
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"\"We need a Harry Potter.\"\n\n\"What?\" \n\nGelikek stared with all six eyes as Kaernoka paced back and forth on the cracked brimstone of the temple mount. Above them the skies burned in an eternal firestorm, below them the great ocean of lava twisted and cracked and bled its incendiary blood.\n\n\"A revolution of thought, of imagination!\" Kaernoka continued, \"Think of how wizards were seen before the children's books: Old, wrinkly, absent-minded, grumpy!\"\n\n\"Like Dumbledore.\"\n\n\"Dumbledore is not absent-minded!\"\n\n\"Yeah, but-\"\n\n\"Gelikek, what happened the last time you were summoned?\"\n\nGelikek went silent for a minute. He crossed his massive, thorn-encrusted arms and bowed his head.\n\n\"Well?\"\n\n\"It was another Scandinavian metal band.\"\n\n\"And what did they want?\"\n\n\"More song lyrics...\"\n\n\"See?\" Kaernoka threw his own arms open, thus causing the boiling skies to strike out with a cascade of black lightning. \"Aren't you tired of writing song lyrics, hanging out in the woods behind some goth's parents house, overseeing secret society meetings when they don't even let you eat a parishioner any more?\"\n\nGelikek's silence spoke volumes. \n\n\"We need to re-brand! The Christianity deal was nice for its time, but we're no longer taken seriously! We need a new book, a new saga, a tome of evil and darkness and depravity that appeals to the *children!*\"\n\n\"Hmmmmmmmm.\" Now it was Gelikek who paced back and forth while Kaernoka stood in hopeful anticipation.\n\n\"Think of it. We'll combine the already-overused genres of battle royale stories and Harry Potter ripoffs, mix it with some Pokemon, call in a few favors from the publishers who have already sold their souls to us, and BAM! Instant re-branding!\"\n\n\"You want the forces of darkness, the great host of the burning hells... to be Pokemon?\"\n\n\"No, no, GOD no, but we just mix in enough references and elements that Nintendo will sue us, thus getting everyone talking about the series, and cultivating a following of people who inherently don't care if we're a terrible ripoff.\"\n\n\"Hmmmm.\" Gelikek tapped his talons together, \"This... has potential.\"\n\n\"Yes!\"\n\n\"But I would change one thing.\"\n\n\"What is that?\"\n\n\"Rip off Digimon as well.\" Gelikek showed his blackened fangs. \"I mean, if we're going to be evil...\"\n\n"
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[WP] Pennywise is feeling a little bored during the holidays, seeing how kids don’t venture outside during blizzards. He decides to pick out a house at random and pick a child living in it. Unluckily for him, Kevin McCallister hates clowns and will do all he can to stop his attacker.
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"The snow outside fell in picturesque crystals—the flakes, lit by the last, golden embers of dying sunlight, twirled and settled over the world like gossamer thread. Any other person would have been in awe of nature’s ability to morph - even the suburbs of Illinois - into something only the most gifted poets could put into words, but to Kevin McCallister, it brought only pain. How old was he now? 13, 14? It was so hard to keep track, when even your family – the people who were supposed to love you the most – regarded you as little more than some Christmas specter, only to be thought about and loved one day a year. Why couldn’t they remember? This was the third Christmas in a row that he had been left behind—cast aside like some disavowed toy. \n\nTo Kevin, the snow, the beauty, the pure “perfect” picture outside Buzz’s window only reminded him of how truly alone he was. \n\nHe had thought his heart stone, he had tried to wish it so, but as he saw his own grim reflection, peering back at him through the window panes, he realized a single tear had escaped and rolled down the deep, black etched bags beneath his eyes. God, he was so tired of this. So tired of everything. \n\nThe blonde haired youth stared, almost mournfully, at the approaching twilight for a little longer before he shut his eyes in an effort to dim the sound of silence that rang like church-bells over the empty rooms. He tried to bring to mind the sounds of the house, as it had been that very morning; the chaos and warmth – that sweet taste of belonging, even for one moment, to a family. He wrapped that memory around himself like a blanket, but not even that could keep him warm. \n\n“No!” he roared suddenly, slamming his fist against the window sill with a sharp crack. \n\nHe would not break—not again, not like last year’s Christmas when the family had left him in the airport restroom while they gallivanted off to Maui. He. Was. Stone. \n\nKevin opened his eyes and stalked away from the window—he needed a project, he needed something to focus his rage upon, he needed to find that god’s damned clown.\n\nThe news and local police couldn’t make heads or tails of the situation that had befallen his little corner of the world—you heard about gang violence all the time, it was nothing new to the suburbs of Illinois, but this was different; children were going missing all across town and the kids that didn’t go missing were telling the oddest stories of a shape-shifting clown, which of course no parent believed, but Kevin believed—he had to. \n\nHe had seen the clown once before, or so he thought. It was a few weeks ago, in an alley-way after he was coming back from the supermarket with the only birthday cake he could afford on his allowance; he had cut across the street, like he always did, when he heard a voice emanating from a nearby alley's mouth. That voice, sweet as honey, had just uttered two words before Kevin had time to stop & look, but those words had frozen him in place.\n\n“Hi-ya, pal…”\n\nIt had awoken a strange feeling in him that he had never expected: excitement. Kevin’s heart was racing a million miles a minute, a sweet – almost blissful – elation poured through his veins. It was him. It was him! That high-pitched, emotion laden voice could only be Harry, a member of a two-man burglary operation called the Sticky Bandits, formerly known as the Wet Bandits in his area, but it couldn’t be him, could it? He was still locked behind bars—had been for years now. \n\nKevin turned slowly, hoping against hope that he would see a hand, forever branded by his family’s ostentatious “M” door-knob reaching for him, but alas he only saw a shadowy figure run further into the alley. Before he realized what he was doing, he was following—his feet given wings by the hope that had welled inside him and fountained emotions he thought he had forever discarded: joy & hope. People tried to move in his way, begging for handouts, but he had eyes only for the shadow that lingered just beyond his reach. \n\nIt wasn’t until Kevin’s chest was heaving, like the bellows of a furnace, that the shadow had stopped in the yard of an abandoned house he had never seen before. The house was old. The wooden panels that framed the roof and the porch had given way to rot—the iron bars that stood like silent sentries at the edge of the yard were bent & rusted. A cold sweat dribbled down the sides of Kevin’s cheeks as he pulled up short of the figure, not but fifteen paces from Harry’s back.\n\nThe shadow of the man he had been chasing began to morph as he turned to face Kevin—the beanie atop what he thought had been Harry’s head sprouted long tendrils of dark, red hair. The face—the face that should have been his worthy adversary shifted and the almost comically oversized nose became smaller, narrow. Mirthless lips and eyes that sunk inwards on a pale & waxy face greeted him—it wasn’t Harry, but that face was only too familiar. \n\nOne impossibly loud, high-pitched shriek broke from those blood-red, joyless lips. \n\n“KEVIN!!!!!!” it cried—it was a woman’s voice…his mother’s voice.\n\nKevin took a few steps back, dropping the grocery bag he was clutching almost painfully tight—letting his birthday cake fall to the crumpled leaves that skittered over dying grass. He began to back away, although it was not fear that caused him to withdraw—it was the loss of tightly coiled hope that caused his feet to falter. That well of blissful emotions bled away through the wound of a metaphorical knife that rammed home in his chest.\n\n“Fuck…” he mouthed, trying to put his trembling lips into motion, but they wouldn’t raise the word beyond the shadow of a careless, whisper.\n\nHis mother’s face melted away and beneath that mask of foundation, eye-liner and lipstick, the face of a clown awaited. A terror of eyes and high, painted cheek-bones that held a contemptible malice, but to Kevin, he was just some freak that had awoken a true terror—some freak that had broken and frayed the last vestiges of his composure—some freak that had to pay the ultimate price.\n\nThe clown just laughed as Kevin ran away and the words, “I’ll be visiting you soon” echoed behind him as he made his way back to familiar ground—Kevin hoped those words proved true. He would be ready.\n\nKevin shook his head at the memory, focusing his mind on the present. The traps were finished and the night of Christmas Eve was finally upon him—he had a gut feeling that the clown would be here, he knew - with a certainty that shouldn't have been possible - tonight was the night. Perhaps fate conspired to push them towards one another? He didn't know and he didn't care.\n\nOne other thing was certain in Kevin’s mind though, he knew - as he ran his fingers along a wire that had been tethered to the banister of the stairs - there would be only one God in the McCalister home tonight, but He would not be merciful.\n\nThe house was the fruits of his effort & creation, every corner, every room a carefully crafted work of Machiavellian art, devoted to the tenets of pain; he would preach the gospel of sorrow tonight and the pictures of his forgotten family that lined the walls would bear witness to his sermon. \n\nTonight the clown known as Pennywise would fall to its knees on hallowed ground and worship the one true God of this holy temple, Kevin McCalister.",
"*I hope this isn’t too short. I don’t remember the regulations for story size.*\n\n“Kevin Kevin sent from Heaven, open the door pretty please!”\n\nKevin had seen the clown outside through the window. He knew the stories. Well, he wasn’t going to go out without giving It a fight to remember. \n\nHe walked in to his walk-in closet, and grabbed 17...no, better make it 18 coat hangers, two cans of lighter fluid, some old Troll dolls, a small box of legos, two rolls of twine, scissors, a few spring mouse traps...\n>\n>\n>\n>\n>\n>\n>\n...And his private collection of over seventy antique, silver-plated, all-shapes-and-sizes, solid mahogany dildos. \n\nThey both survived that night, but It made a mental note to avoid that side of town going forward. It was too...imaginative. ",
"IT looked into the window and saw the boy. Kevin Mcallister. A fitting start of his winter feeding spree. It had heard of the boy, now miraculously 14 years old, who had survived so many home invasions, and it would end his luck tonight.\n\nAs it sided up against the window, it didn't sense the usual gallery of fears that each child usually had. Strange... but then it remembered that sometimes fears were so deeply buried that they needed a push to get to the surface.\n\nSo it assumed a classic shape, the common werewolf. It raked it's claws at the window and howled because it felt like the right thing to do. The boy looked up from his reading and stared at him.\n\nJust stared with a measured gaze. It felt uncomfortable as it growled and saw the boy slowly back away from the room and lnto the house.\n\nIt went to the front door and decided that perhaps the boy had mistaken him for a creep in a mask. It would show him the true meaning of creepy. It faded through the cracks in the door, now a mist that condensed into its familiar Vampire Lord persona it had used so many times before.\n\nWith blood red eyes it stared into the hallway. What was going on? There were no noises of a running kid... no heartbeat, no fear wafting oit from anywhere.\n\nIt stalked along the hallway, laughing demonically.... but the sound didn't echo as it normally would. It just... just seemed to absorb into the walls.\n\nIt kicked open a door and walked inside and that's when it couldn't move suddenly. White hot pain shot through its skull as it tumbled over on the floor and looked up.\n\nSam! Keep chanting, I'll get the wooden stake!\n\nDean grimly opened the trunk and got the holy water and spoke to the kid.\n\nDean: So cuz, this is how you kill a vampire....",
"Kevin heard a knock at the door. He’d been through this routine a few times before. The robbers were probably back again. He queued the scene from the movie and, in the lowest voice he could, called through the door.\n\n“Hello?”\n\n“Hiya Kevin!” It wasn’t the voice of either robber. Then again, Kevin wasn’t exactly using the correct voice himself. “Oh, aren’t you gonna say something?” His voice was off. Something about it wasn’t right.\n\n“I’m not letting anybody in this year.” He hopes he sounded firm. “Especially someone I don’t know.”\n\n“Well. I, Kevin, am Pennywise the Dancing Clown. You are Kevin. So now we know each other.” At this point, Kevin had some ideas for dealing with Pennywise.\n\n“Well, Pennywise, I bid you farewell.”\n\n“No you don’t. You’re going to stay right here.” At this, Kevin walked to the storage closet. He could hear Pennywise rattling off threats as he grabbed supplies: a hangar, an iron, some screwdrivers, a gallon bucket of paint, two ice picks, and a slingshot. Something was going to work.\n\nQuickly, Kevin set up his traps. First, he rigged his microwave up to the hangar. Transformers were incredibly easy to work with. The hangar went over the door handle. The iron was strung up to swing across the entire room. The screwdrivers went at the top of the stairs. The paint wouldn’t swing down the staircase this time. It sat perched on the door. Kevin kept one ice pick, while the other stayed by his bed. The slingshot also never left his side.\n\nPennywise decided the door wasn’t good enough for him, so he used a window. Kevin was not expecting a surprise entrance like that. Broken glass rained everywhere. Kevin grabbed a bread roller. He grabbed an oven mitt too, grabbing the hangar and charging at Pennywise. He was one tough preteen.\n\nPennywise vanished as soon as that happened. His mental projections earlier faded away, leaving only Pennywise and the weapons. Pennywise tried every trick in the book, but forgot the most important one. “Come on out, Kevin! I’ve got a balloon for you? What’s the matter? Don’t you want a balloon?” There was an odd sound coming from Pennywise. “Aaaaahhhhh!”\n\nKevin took his screwdriver running after the clown. The chase wasn’t particularly close, nor was it much of a chase. Kevin tried to stab the abdomen. Pennywise turned to meet him face-to-face. Kevin thrive the screwdriver at him, but it missed. Pennywise grabbed Kevin by the shirt, but Kevin escaped. He grabbed an ice pick and hacked through Pennywise’s head. Or, he tried. The knife went right through.\n\nPart 2 if there’s demand!",
"Kevin McCallister, for the 4th time in his life, was Home Alone.\n\nThough this time it wasn't due to the negligence or stupidity of his family this time, he had stayed behind intentionally, by his own accord. Hell, his mother was practically begging him to go, feeling extremely guilty and traumatized, letting her \"Poor baby alone to fend for himself in the world.\" Well Kevin wasn't a kid anymore. It was his 17th year alive on this Earth, and he had been doing fine this winter. He hadn't gone with as he knew he wouldn't enjoy it, and thought it would cost them too much with him on board. His family had gone to a part vacation part business trip to somewhere tropical. Maybe it was the Caribbean? He didn't remember, nor did he really care, he just wanted them to enjoy their trip, and for himself to enjoy the Midwest, as he liked it, predictable and cold.\n\nNevertheless, he still had chores at home and work at the 7-11, and tonight was his Friday off, and the day scheduled for the pumbling repairs. If he was able to take care of everything, then he would get his own personal PC with a copy of Doom 2, which while he hadn't heard incredible things about, was still reason for celebration for him. But this past week had been... strange. Nothing too out of the ordinary, just.... that feeling, when you know something's slightly off, like when you know there was a yellow simley face mug on the counter just a few seconds ago. Probably just cabin-fever getting his nerves. While he liked the cold, he wasn't a fan of being outside in it. It was more the feeling of the holidays he enjoyed, and while he was kinda a loner who was too close to either his mom or dad, they were still family who loved each other. And then, there was the clown.\n\nFrom the moment Kevin saw the bastard, he knew that he, no, It was trouble. No sane person just stands out there in a blizard with a clown costume on holding a buncha balloons and walking towards a house with a creepy-ass smile keeping direct eye-contact with the only person inside. So, he got to work. The plans he had used before probably would work, he didn't have enough time. But he still had time, and time, no matter how small, is all he needed. He started by rushing to his parent's room, and grabbing the pump-action and a few boxes of shells from his dad's hunting closet. He then went to the kitchen and started grabbing peanut butter, banana bread, some fruity candycanes, and a 6-pack of Surge. He then hopped downstairs and set up his dad's hunting supplies, grabbed some trap parts, and a few other treats. He grabbed Doris and the parrot, and gathered some aftershave and shaving cream. Finally, he sacrificed an old unused sweater to the Gods Of Improvised Bandoliers, and begun his fight....\n\n....It had seen a few kids like this, the hold-outs, the loners, the attemping survivors, but he was just like the rest. So, being polite, It walked up to the door, and turned the handle. It was locked, as expected, and as typical. It did it's indescribable magic, opened the door, and was greeted by an aftershave-shavingcream pie. While this would flay the skin of a mortal, this did nothing to It, but still sure fucking burnt like hell in It's eyes! While It was wiping the shave out of It's eyes, It heard a curious spraying sound. When It could finally see, the sound turned out to be Barbasol and Silly-String cans covering It, which had no effect But then came the image of a Bic disposable light, and then just like that, It was up in flames.\n\nSo, front door was a bust, and even if the trap had gone off, the kid was probably there waiting. So, the basement was next, which It was fond of. Immediately, there was a bear trap at the base of the door. Not too conspicuous, but It was no fool, and It was not trapped in a house by It's lonesome. So, It oppend the door, and saw another trap right beyond the frame. Heh, stupid kid. But then It heard a click, and immediately stepped to the side. Twas a swinging paint can, and was there to presumably get It to step back into the trap, how typical. It stepped forward, and then came swinging the door towards It, as It reacted by stepping back to where It was, and then came the can to knock It's face into the bear trap.\n\nIt eventually was freed from the spring-loaded jaws, and ventured further into the basement, to where It found the stairs, littered with bear traps, with spikes along the walls. While more complex then the last, It found a way, by bracing against the bare parts of walls, It could safely reach the top. As It reached halfway through the stairs, It went again to brace itself, but felt some sort of cable between it and the wall. Then the spikes which littered the walls came down upon It, impaling themselves into It's flesh, while also causing It to fall into the traps, which proved unremovable this time. It, while in pain and injured, still reached the top, and saw this time a single spike on the ground, and it knew that there would be a, *\"click.\"* It immediately bended It's back like a limbo player, and swiftly dodged the paint can, but as It went back up, It was hit by the can, and fell down the stairs again. It, in an indescribable amount of pain, struggled back up the stairs, and eventually reached it hand upon the top, yet then immediately placing It's other hand on the spike, impaling It's hand. \n\nAs It approached the living room, It heard small sounds of something talking, barely unintelligible. But It had no need for ears, so It focued in on the conversation.\n\n\"Quiet you stupid...... thing!\"\n\n*\"I am not a thing,\" **Squawk!***\n\n\"Ok, you stupid bird, just be quiet! He could be here any minute!\"\n\n***Squawk!** \"It's a little bitch\" **Squawk!***\n\nAs It approached the coach and the fireplace, It saw the feathered vermin in their cage, and also the shaggy fluffed mop of the boy's head, as It leaned in to take a peak at his soiled face, the vermin spring from their cage, and cuased It to fall, stumbling into the fireplace face-first. Ash and soot covered It's face, followed by a familiar spraying sound, and then, a familiar image of a lighter. It was screaming, running mad like a bull surronded by four walls. It's form burning and aching all at once, It's entire essence on fire. Then, came the steps...\n\n...As soon as Kevin had heard the traps going off, he had speed-dailed the only people he trusted in this situation. As soon as he was off the phone, he tactically searched the house, until the otherwordling screaming scoarched the wall of the house. Kevin rushed downstairs, the creepy motherfucker being burned alive, seemingly unable to stop. Then, It heard Kevin, and he unloaded on the man. Somehow, he was still up and moving, yet falling back. It fell to the floor, trying to process what was happening, and felt as a slivery blade punctures It's suit. Kevin repeatedly stabbed the invincible asshole with his Swiss Army Knife his sister had gotten from Yellowstone. He lodged the multi-tool into It, and then got up, and taunted It. It charged Kevin, giving up the clown-charade, and followed him as he darted around. Kevin knew he couldn't keep the fight in here, so he rushed out the door, dodging the still-going Bic lighter trap. It crashed through the doorframe, and met Kevin outside in the road, receiving another shotgun blast, the last straw. It, for the first time in a while, finally spoke.\n\n\"You don't know who I am! I will haunt you for the rest of your days b-\"\n\nIt was cut off by the Wet Bandits Inc. Van ramming straight into It, Marv stepping out and giving It a kick in the ass with a baseball bat. It was defeated, mentally speaking, and quickly crawled back into the sewers via a grate.\n\nKevin was extremely thankful, he had finally gotten rid of whatever that thing was. He turned to Marv and Harry, who had just stepped out of the van\n\n\"Never thought I'd say this, but thank god for the Wet Bandits.\"\n\n\"Kid, you okay? The fuck was that thing?\"\n\n\"What do ya mean, Hare, it was some fucking insane asshole!\"\n\n\"No it wasn't Marv you dimwit, you see a person ever act like that?\"\n\n\"Well.... remember our time back out in the Big Apple?\"\n\nKevin interjected,\n\n\"Guys, guys. It doesn't matter, he's fucked off. All I need you to do now is one thing.\"\n\n\"Sure, whatever ya need kid.\"\n\n\"We need some plumbing done, think you could set us up?\"\n\n\"Oh yeah, absolutely kid. We'll get the things outta the van.\"\n\n\"Thanks guys, the money's on the counter. I just gotta do a few things out here.\"\n\nWhile not the best service there was in-town, the Wet Bandits knew how to deliver. 9 years ago they had been tried for assault, harrasment, and attempt of theft against Kevin, but Kevin gave his testimony and insisted that they only get charged for attempted minor theft, and get 5 years, which they did. 3 years ago, they got out of the system, and were adjusting to life in the Midwest well, starting a plumbing and repairs business, getting their Bachelor's degrees, and Marv was even a player on the town's Minor-league team. While it was crazy, insane, crazily insane, and insanly crazy, this was his home. And with friends and family like he had, he knew that he'd never truely be Home Alone.\n\nEdit: Some grammer and spelling fixes. Sorry guys, I made this at like 9 PM on a Wednesday.",
"\"Why does this always happen to me?\" Kevin McCallister of Winnetka, Illinois was oh so sick of this shit. It's almost as if God just hates him and wants to watch him suffer, but with the time he's had away from his family, he's become prepared for anything. Almost anything. Not this. Anything but this.\n\nOnce again, Kevin's family has completely disregarded him, now on the other side of the country laughing and enjoying themselves. He was a ghost to them, but he was used to this abuse by now. He knew he was an unwanted child; a mistake. The wall was already built. Justice had been served several times and he was the judge, jury, and executioner.\n\nAs he peered out the window, waiting for their return, he saw it. He'd always hated clowns, but this one was especially terrifying. It had an energy about it, unlike the previous clown who was a funny guy, just there to amuse him. No, this thing was out in the open, hiding a grin behind a group of balloons. You'd expect that to seem inviting, but it was nothing of the sort. It was coming for him. Kevin's adrenaline shot up, and he returned the grin.\n\n\"Fuck you, mom.\" He ran back into the basement, mixed emotions, and grabbed a shovel, two bananas for sustenance, a rope, a white paint bucket, and a double-barreled shotgun, loaded. Oh, he was ready alright. Like second nature, the adrenaline aided him in rigging up a monster, elaborate enough to take down a clown. Just then he heard a knock at the door, then a bang. Another one. Louder, the banging grew until it suddenly stopped.\n\nKevin sat patiently in front of the roaring fireplace, eyeing down the barrel of his shotgun. Dust travelled down into the fire and his grip tightened. Like death, it came crashing down into the fire. Kevin's eyes widened as he watched an enflamed Santa Claus writhe and scream in pain, taking down the house décor with him. He hesitated to pull the trigger, but Santa's alien shrieking convinced him what was real and what wasn't. Blood and guts spilled out of the burning saint's abdomen, and Kevin showed no mercy. The flames reflected off of Kevin's lifeless, sadistic eyes. He turned around to grab the rope, which had already been fastened into a noose, for good measures.\n\nAs he cautiously approached Kriss Kringle's charred body, he started to laugh like a madman. A murderer. A psychopathic lion eyeballing its next meal. He tied the noose around Santa's neck and hooked it on to the ceiling. Just as he was about to pull it up, the blackened Santa gasped for air.\n\n\"Wait!\" He pleaded with a jolly old smile. \"You don't have to do this sonny.\"\n\nKevin showed mercy, just this once, and allowed him to speak.\n\n\"You've been a very good boy this year. Don't you want to stay on the nice list?\"\n\nKevin chuckled. \"No. No I haven't.\"\n\nHe heaved the Santa's body up into the air and watched the life drain from his eyes once again as he choked and gasped for some oxygen. \"Please!\" His voice changed. Something was familiar about it. Kevin walked closer to the hanging body and now saw that it was his mother, hanging on for dear life. \"Kevin, baby. Ple-\" BANG. Blew her head clean off with the final bullet. Blood spurted from her open neck.\n\n\"Fuck you, mom.\"\n\nKevin stood there for a moment, admiring the crime scene, and then decided it was time to clean up. So he grabbed the shovel and the body, and walked toward the front door, body draped on his shoulder. As the door creaked open, a clown stood there. The same one from before. Mouth agape.\n\n\"Wow. I'm glad I didn't fuck with you.\""
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[WP] You're a demon tasked with making a human fall in love with you, but when it comes time to kill them, you realize you've fallen in love with them
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"\n\n**Some NSFW language used.** \n\n\n\t\n He left his socks out in the hallway again. Right smack dab in the middle of the entry way rug where he kicks off his shoes when he gets home. I swear that this is the time that I am actually going to kill him. \n\t\n\n \"Hey babe! Dinner's ready!\" I hear from further down the hallway. Well, ok. I'll let this time go. He does make the world's best macaroni and cheese so that has to count for something. He grins and half turns to me as I walk into the kitchen, gesturing with a dish towel towards a plate heaped with gooey mac 'n cheese before turning back to finish wiping down the stovetop. No demon in Hell could blame me for indulging in more of this mass of cheesey carbs in front of me. It's why I've held out as long as I have to be honest; this human cooks like he's heaven blessed. And he does the dishes afterwards as well. \n\n\nMy conscience, if you could call it that, has been niggling at me that it's go time, mission accomplished, this mortal clearly has fallen for me long ago. It was the food that made me pick this one and it's only the food that has kept me from pulling the trigger. Why wouldn't I deserve to indulge in some pampering while I can? It's been the first time that I've lingered and I can't say that I haven't enjoyed it. It's exhausting staying in the same happy, sensual, feminine persona when I get tasked with love duty. It's been quite simple really for all of these eons. A little bit of attention, flattery, and slight emotional distance coupled with naturally adapting to the current era's ideal of physical beauty has mortals fall into my lap with woeful ease.\n\n\nThe men all blur together after a while. It's headache inducing to dredge up and file through all those memories. There were the shy ones, the arrogant ones, the funny, and the moronic. Lucifer's goat feet, there was that one Trojan idiot that forced my hand, but at least the higher ups were thrilled from the number of souls that descended from that whole muck of a war. Boruta, code name Bill, was particularly pleased at being able to kick back for a nice little decade while I did all of the work. He's got a tough time filling his quotas now that deforestation is widely spread topside. Bastard deserves to sweat a little more. My quota is filled for the next millenium; there's something to be said for work efficiency. \n\n\t \nI'm tired now though and maybe some change is due? I sound like a mortal self-help book. Those are surprisingly popular Below. This is the first man that I've taken longer with and I have to admit that it's been nice. A bit of rebellion is what Hell was founded on after all, no? There's no ground breaking reason why I haven't moved onto another yet if I'm honest, but this just feels...nice. Shit, I am getting old. \n\n\t\n\"You have a good day?\" he asks behind me, his hands coming up to rub my shoulders, planting a kiss on top of my head. \"Mmm, thank you,\" I respond sighing, letting my head fall back against the dining chair. \n\t\n\nAlright, that's maybe another thing keeping me around here. His hands are truly gifted. His lips aren't bad either. And his hair, even with that infernal cowlick in the back, is wonderfully soft and thick. Ugh, I've become domesticated. Soon I'll come running when I hear a can hiss open or when the front door opens, meowing for his attention like a cat in heat, nudging for a kiss and a loving touch. \n\n\t\nShit. Have I already become his little pet pussy cat? I could have killed him over the socks. Or leaving the empty milk carton in the fridge. Or putting on the toilet roll the wrong way. What. The. Fuck. Wait, why haven't I killed him for any of that? It's easier to have him around than not. The bastard has me trained with his seemingly innocent care-taking. I could have killed him a dozen times over. It doesn't make sense why this one still loves me. With the others I played the role of perfection and with this one I haven't bothered to for months. I don't hold back when I'm in a bad mood, I'm late arriving and late leaving, and I haven't faked laughing at any insipid jokes to keep the fragile male ego safely wrapped in bubble wrap.\n\t\n\n I've been so comfortable just relaxing that I haven't thought about the fact that none of this makes sense. That macaroni and cheese is not settling well. It feels like there's a pit in the bottom of my stomach and it's aching, but this ingredient combination has never caused that response before. Is this what feelings feel like? I can't have feelings for him. It doesn't make sense why he is still as deeply in love with me, but it's a mortal - their emotional decision making skills are approximate to a drunken chicken crossing that infernal metaphorical road. I cannot feel the same human emotions. It's not possible. Absolutely not possible. \n\t\n\nWell, it's been a nice run here, but I can't stay. This will ruin my track record. This is dangerous. Why can't I pick up my hand? I'll feel just fine once I go onto the next one. Maybe I'll try a female this time, maybe I'll find a pair twins. Ugh, even my thinking sounds like a human pornographic film. That's really a sign that it's time for me to finish this. \n\t\n\n\"Oh my darling, you were doing so well. I'm not surprised, but I am disappointed,\" he sighed catching my hand around his neck. \"Don't worry, I haven't given up quite yet,\" he said before my vision started to black out. \n\n\t\nHas this happened befo - \n"
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[WP] "Apologies, miss, but your father insists you attend the local institution. He doesn't want the authorities questioning why his daughter isn't going to school. Now, who would you like to bring along as your bodyguard?" "Ugh. Very well... I'll bring the werewolf boy. He'll blend in the easiest."
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"Elsbith sits at her desk. Her gaze burning into my soul, or so it feels. She summoned me to attend her and so I do. I would do anything for her, so I sit and wait intently for her to make her demands of me. “Apparently I’m to attend…” Her voice trails off in a sigh. She clears her throat again before continuing, “school.” Her eyes roll and she goes to tapping her long delicate fingers against the polished wood of the table. In truth I was confused, “school?” I couldn’t help but find myself repeating word. “Yes! School! Apparently 'father' demands it and I must! Despite the fact I am well beyond trivial mortal…issues.” She takes to her feet and begins to pace about the room. \n\nI wait a moment for her to explain, “Why does my lady have need of me?” I inquired, albeit hesitantly. She half frowns as she moves over to stand in front of me. “Because father also demands it of you. Apparently I need protection.” She pats me on the head like a ‘good boy,’ but I am not offended. “Of course. I go where you go.” I state as a matter of fact. “I know…such a loyal pet.” Her words don’t insult, she’s half right. “So when do we start?” \n\n“Monday.” She can’t hide her frown now. How many generations had my family served hers? I can’t help but think about it and the pure comedy of seeing her go to school isn’t lost on me. “I suppose you’ll need…” She cuts me off before I can finish. “I don’t need anything. We’ll go. We sit there and look bored. You’re not going to join any sports and I’m not going to do any stupid after school activities either. We go. We come home. End of story!” I stay silent. I can tell she’s upset and I’ve been trained well to respect the masters, especially when they’re angry. I simply advert my gaze and wait for her to continue or dismiss me. \n\nInstead Elsbith walks over to the window and lets out a long sad sigh. It’s silent between us for some time, but she speaks again. This time her words are soft. “I’m sorry Tannin. This world has taught me the futility of all things. I’ve tried so hard to plant the seeds of love and life.” Her eyes are fixed outside as she speaks and I can hear the sadness welling up inside her. “It’s just temporary.” I try to comfort her. “No. It’s not that. It’s…everything. How many years need to go by before I realize there’s no fixing them?” I take a few steps closer as she continues. “I shouldn’t be cruel to you. Your family has always served us well…and you.” She turns to look at me now. “I wish I could find words to express the melancholy that grows inside my heart. This stupid facade…is just so tiresome. It was so much easier before their computers and phones, compilations of data. I hate it. I hate the staleness of it all. What happened to their wonder? Their vibrancy?”\n\nI find myself at a loss for words. I give her a sympathetic look and bow my head again. I want to serve her as we always have and to make her happy, but I don’t know what to do. She is old and wise, despite the fact she looks to be a young lady. “Why don’t you try again? You’ll be with their children. Maybe you can help them change for the better?” She half smiles at me. “You are a good friend Tannin. Perhaps.” She shrugs, “Perhaps I will. Trying hasn’t killed me yet.” ",
"\n\"I’m sorry miss, but the werewolf?\" Christine rolled her eyes at her butler’s dubious response, turning to him and frowning. On most occasions he wouldn’t dare question his young charge, but more recently she had noticed he tended to do so a lot. Most likely orders from her father.\n\n\"Of course the werewolf boy,\" she deadpanned. \"He at least looks human during the day. The others would raise too many questions.\"\n\n\"Young miss,\" her butler attempted again, \"the werewolf boy isn’t...exactly docile.\"\n\n\"Gerald,\" Christine replied with a heavy sigh, \"don’t lie to me. Father wouldn’t let him into the house if he wasn’t docile. After all, he wouldn’t dare to see the heir to the family secrets hurt in any way.\"\n\n\"Miss...\" Gerald still seemed hesitant, but Christine wasn’t having any of it.\n\n\"Gerald,\" Christine began, closing the Iliad she had been enjoying up to the entrance of her butler, \"my father is forcing me to go to school. Why? Because he slipped up at the last party he hosted and said I was seventeen.\" Rising, she moved to the mahogany bookcase that rose up ten levels and placed the book back in its slot, turning her cold grey eyes on her butler. \"We both know I am nowhere near seventeen. Adding a few zeros to the end might get us closer, but humans are never good at accepting what they cannot understand. Recognizing his mistake, my father was forced to follow the norm and enroll me in the local high school, knowing full well I have more knowledge than the most intelligent human alive. As a peace offering, he is allowing me to chose my bodyguard, but if you believe, Gerald, that I will allow my father to dictate my choice through you, then you and he are sorely mistaken.\"\n\nGerald sighed and shrugged. The wizened spirit knew when not to push the buttons of the young miss. \"Very well. I will tell him to make himself presentable for school.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Christine replied, a coy smile spreading across her face.\n\n————————————————————\n\n\"Boys really find this...attractive?\" Christine stared at her reflection in mild disgust, unsure how to feel with so much of her legs showing beneath the short skirt. She attempted to tug the material down and succeeded a little, then focused on finishing buttoning the white blouse. After completing that, she smoothed the patch over her heart that depicted the school’s crest and did a little twirl. \"Gerald?\"\n\n\"You look fine,\" the faithful butler replied. \"Of course, you can wear knee-high socks if you feel too uncomfortable. It is allowed within the school dress code.\"\n\n\"Knee-high socks? Gods no, might as well wear stockings.\"\n\n\"Also allowed,\" Gerald replied helpfully. A knock at Christine’s door commanded Gerald’s attention as Christine studiously did her hair into a long braid. It wasn’t until Gerald appeared back in the image shown by her mirror with another person behind him that she stopped what she was doing. \"Miss, this is your bodyguard, Mr. Lupine.\"\n\n\"Could he have a more obvious name?\" Christine asked with a small smile, turning to face the newcomer while still finishing her hair. What she saw made her forget her current task completely and give out a low, \"Ooo-la-la.\" Standing at a little over six feet, well toned, and with bronzed skin, the silver haired werewolf in a sharp two piece suit was the man of any girl’s fantasy. His peircing silver eyes regarded his charge with unreserved respect and something akin to unwavering loyalty, and the slight curving smile that showed one of his sharp incisors gave him an almost ruggedly wolffish look. \"I see why you were hesitant to allow this young man to be my bodyguard, Gerald.\"\n\n\"That was not why,\" Gerald muttered with an eye roll.\n\n\"Lighten up, Gerald. I only jest,\" Christine said witha laugh. \"My father would die before allowing me to pursue such a fantasy. But that is merely all it is, the fantasy of a young girl. What’s your name?\" The last part was addressed to the werewolf, who watched and listened to the exchange with little change in expression.\n\n\"Marcellus,\" he replied in an easy tenor, bowing to his charge. \"Although most call me Marc.\"\n\n\"Mar-k?\" Christine questioned, putting emphasis on the last syllable with a hard \"k\" sound.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Not one for words, hmm,\" Christine mused, slightly disappointed. \"Still, you will do. I believe we should get going. There’s a thing we must catch, called a bus. Apparently the humans use such a thing as transportation. Shall we?\"\n\n\"Of course,\" Mark replied with a grin.\n\n————————————————————\n\n\"Tell me about yourself.\" Christine flipped her braid to her other shoulder, shifting the tote bag’s strap. She turned to Mark and noted his eyes slide over to look at her before returning to staring down the street.\n\n\"I’m a werewolf.\"\n\n\"Really? I could’t tell,\" Christine replied with layers of sarcasm.\n\n\"What do you want to know?\" He asked back with a small smile.\n\n\"You’re life story,\" Christine shot back.\n\n\"Very well,\" Mark agreed. \"I was born in Denmark, travelled to Egypt, and spent most of my years there. Your father found me roaming around the great Sphinx and took me in. He took me in and tamed me, making me love these terrible suits.\" Mark pulled at the suit jacket he was wearing and Christine laughed.\n\n\"So you were feral?\" Christine was a curious spirit, one that thirsted for knowledge, and a live werewolf was sure to be full of knowledge.\n\n\"While I dislike that word, it certainly is a good descriptor of what I was,\" Mark conceded.\n\n\"And what was that like?\"\n\n\"Fun. But there was a lot I missed. Werewolves are meant to rub in packs, and being a lone wolf wasn’t all that interesting, besides the freedom. And even if it is a fake pack, your family provides a good substitute to everything I could have had. Community, a strong leader, a sense of direction.\"\n\n\"Really?\" Christine raised an eyebrow. \"And how in the world is my dysfunctional family a good pack?\"\n\n\"Well, your father is like an Alpha. Strong leader, unquestionable authority, and decided the direction we travel. Gerald and I, we are the pack, those that follow the Alpha. We listen and obey. The other servants are the Omegas, lower than the pack but those that teach the younger wolves how to be wolves. They also decide the pace the pack goes at.\"\n\n\"So what does that make me?\" Christine teased.\n\n\"A pup,\" was Mark’s instantaneous answer.\n\n\"Excuse me!\" Christine scoffed, highly offended before she saw the grin stretching across Mark’s face.\n\n\"I’m sorry, a spoiled pup,\" he amended. Christine punched his arm but Mark only laughed. \"Don’t be too offended, we all start out at that way.\"\n\n\"You realize I am older and far more knowledgeable than you are?\" Christine replied haughtily.\n\n\"And yet you are getting angry at being called a pup,\" Mark replied evenly.\n\n\"Aren’t you supposed to be my bodyguard?” Christine asked in annoyance.\n\n“If that is all you would like me to be, so be it.” Christine glanced at Mark in surprise, taking in his serious frown and focused gaze on the area around them, and she wasn’t sure if she should count her words as a victory or not. For a minute, neither spoke, Christine refusing to give in to the sudden silence and Mark keeping himself busy by constantly scanning the area. Finally, Christine caved.\n\n“You can talk,” she grumbled out.\n\n“A body guard usually does not interact with his or her charge,” Mark curtly replied. “Doing so may needlessly endanger the person being protected.”\n\n“But you were interacting with me just a—“\n\n“A mistake,” Mark cut her off. “I apologize for that.” Christine fell back into an uncomfortable silence before losing her patience.\n\n“Fine! You win! Just go back to the way you were!”\n\nMark’s stern facade was immediately transformed with a smile. “Glad you came around. Didn’t want to be serious all the time. No fun that way.”\n\n“Oh ha ha.” Christine rounded on him. “You play a dangerous game making me mad.”\n\n“A pup can’t do much against a wizened wolf,” was Mark’s cryptic response, which made Christine feel as if he was talking down to her.\n\n“I expect you to be professional at school,” she retorted. “I am still your boss.”\n\n“Of course.” Despite his affirmative response, the smile never left his face.\n\n“You know what?” Christine exclaimed suddenly. She could hear in the distance the bus approaching and realized she at least wanted to have the parting shot. “I know why Gerald was wary of you.”\n\n“Why’s that?” Mark asked innocently.\n\n“Because you’re insufferable!” she practically yelled over the sound of the bus’s engine as it pulled up. Mark merely grinned, showing all his teeth in an expression of true pleasure, before returning to his stern look from before. It was the first of many interactions between the two, both as bodyguard and charge, and boy and girl.",
"A whistle sounded, a crowd cheered and drowned out the collective groans of the parents sitting on the bleachers as the sun rays broke through a cloud to form a spotlight one the school's Portal Rugby star. Ms Meadus's face lost tension while she calmly watched her winning highschool team descend upon her bodyguard with howls of glee.\nThe magical fireworks illuminated the autumn afternoon sky and the shamans lowered the shield surrounding the field letting the supporters run and fly across the field to celebrate the midterm victory against the neighboring school.\n\nMs Meadus stood up to leave behind the diverse group of werewolves, harpies, witches, junior shamans, vampires, pixies and other creatures the human world considered inexistent. She effortlessly snaked through the elated crowd to the exits and stepped outside.\n\n> Leaving early, Holly?\n\nHolly's heart jumped at the gruff voice that addressed her as she spun on the spot to face the speaker. A tall and bulky wolf-like human in a security suit was taking a step with his hands up in a non-aggressive stance. Dominant and imposing, creatures like the amarok were able to take physically demanding jobs that normal werewolves of their age would buckle under. \nTo his side a harpy stood in the same wear and a solemn look on her face.\n\n\"Woah woah woah, easy.\" said the amarok. \"I just wanted to break the ice and chat a little. You're always alone and the midterm party is starting as soon as the headmaster sounds Big Ben. How about we get to know each other after my shift?\"\n\nThe confusion on Holly's face must've been clearly visible as the amarok's lopsided smile slowly settled and his shoulders slightly sunk. He straightened himself however as if bracing to expect a negative answer.\n\n> Are you asking me out, mr...?\n\nSurely a little fun wouldn't hurt and Holly had nearly forgotten what that felt like in the semester she'd been forced to attend the Ministry's School of Ordinary Creatures. Her father's strict orders were to keep her head low and keep from breaking any hearts. Lothario he bodyguard had been given permission to draw the school's attention to himself instead of his master and had rather enjoyed it. Holly was proud but a little jealous nonetheless.\n\n\"Most definitely. And Gravial's the name. Not a mr yet\" came the response with a tinge of pride. \"Straight forward. I like it. Well, Gravial, you have yourself a date. When's your shift over? We can meet at the Haunted House right after\". Before Gravial could utter a word the harpy behind him piped up \"oh, it ends now, it's all he's -\" a grin came over her face as Gravial glared in her direction to cut her interruption short. \"Bear Simona no mind, she talks too much. My shift ends at the Big Ben's gong\".\n\n> Don't be late!\n\nAnd with that, Holly walked away while waving; her thick, black curls bobbing on he shoulders with every step.\n",
"She sits alone in the center of the room, a concentric circle of worried students seated all around her.\n\nThe whispers started the moment she joined the school, the year already halfway through. Whispers in the hallways and bathrooms and during gym as she sits placidly on a bench, watching the other students kick a ball.\n\nThe whispers are incessant and troubling, and their tendrils creep around the edges of her psyche no matter how much she tells herself she doesn't care, that whispers are harmless, that only sticks and stones break bones.\n\nAt first her companion lurked silently in the shadows, but he is tall and handsome and the girls love him while the boys admire him. Now the girl sits more alone than ever, watching him kick the ball and laugh.\n\nShe watches from the outside looking in as he experiences what it was like to be normal.\n\nShe seems a vortex, something dark, like the light is being slowly sucked out of the room, like the daily descent into night is her fault, like darkness resides inside her, deep and oily and black like the whispers that follow in her wake.\n\nShe rotates her hand, observing it, wishing that it was warm and rich and full with life, but knowing that it can never be, for the daughter of Death is already dead."
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[WP] You were able to hold your beautiful, healthy, newborn daughter for but a moment before you passed on. Upon reaching the afterlife, you beg and scream to be allowed to see her again. Eventually, you feel yourself being lifted up. A young girl smiles down at you. "A new puppy?!" she yelps
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"I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:\n\n- [/r/u_monkhtsetseg] [\\[WP\\] You were able to hold your beautiful, healthy, newborn daughter for but a moment before you passed on. Upon reaching the afterlife, you beg and scream to be allowed to see her again. Eventually, you feel yourself being lifted up. A young girl smiles down at you. \"A new puppy?!\" she yelps](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_Monkhtsetseg/comments/a6cym2/wp_you_were_able_to_hold_your_beautiful_healthy/)\n\n *^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))*",
"(sorry for formatting on mobile)\n\n\"A new puppy?!\" she squeals, reaching for me.\n\nI look at my baby girl in shock. Surely it hasn't been so long? She looks as if she's almost in her teenage years, where she's no longer a young child, but not quite a young adult either. I wiggle my little toes and feel my tail wag, as she picks me up and cuddles me close. Maria buries her face into my fur, and I feel tears hit my skin. They are cold, and as I feel them roll down my side I wiggle around to lick her face. A small giggle is heard, thank god. I crawl around her, stumbling all the way. Four legs are going to be hard to get used to, but if I get to be with my girl for a while more, I'm plenty happy to learn. Life will be good here, I know it. I'll grow big and strong, and I'll protect them.\n\n\n-------------\n\n\nThe world was fuzzy these days. My joints were familiar to me now, but they didn't seem to respond as they once did. But that was alright. I had lived a long 15 years. Maria was 26 now. She had found a wonderful man, first her friend, then boyfriend, and now her new husband. I had made it through her wedding, and now she had someone else to protect her, and be there for her. Ryan was a great man. He would be safe with her. They sat with me now, rubbing my fur, dry and gray as it was. They were both crying, tears rolling down and softly plopping on the floor. I softly thumped my tail, the sound of it against the metal counter echoing through the vet's room. \n\n\"I love you so so much Buddy.\" Maria whispered. The world faded to nothing, but I knew she would be alright, because I loved her too. I always had, and I always will. But as the light illuminated the room I went into, Maria stared down at me, smiling. \n\n\"Hi little guy.\" she cooed, pushing her fingers through the cage I was in. \"Do you want to come home? Do you want to make my daughter the happiest little girl in the world?\" I wagged my tail, and touched my nose to her hand, breathing in her comforting scent. \n\nI would love that. ",
"I looked down at the newborn cradled against my chest and smiled. “Bethany,” I said. Or, at least, I think I did. Everything was growing hazy, and there was a lot of noise and people suddenly started rushing around me. They tried to take her, my Bethany, away, but I clung tightly and would not let them steal her. My vision tunneled until she was all I could see. And then she was pulled away from me, there was a spike of indescribable pain and loss, and everything went dark.\n\n\nI woke up in the same bed. I was still hooked up to the machines, but they made no sound, every one of them black. Everyone was standing around, but they weren’t rushing anymore. They looked sad. But I didn’t care, I was angry. They stole my baby away! I asked for my Bethany back, but they ignored me. I demanded her back. Some turned away, but they all ignored me. Iscreamed, and no one even flinched, let alone responded. It was as if- as if they couldn’t see me.\n\n\nI felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up into the face of the most beautiful person I had ever seen. They said not a word, but simply smiled at me. It was pity or even sympathy, but something in my inside unclenched as I realized that it was time to go. I reached up and took their hand.\n\n\nBut I resisted the pull to move. “Where is my baby?” I asked this stranger who could see me.\n\n\nThey still said nothing, but I was overwhelmed with a sense of peace and safety. I shook my head, throwing off the sensation.\n\n\n“I won’t leave her.“\n\n\nThe tiniest of frowns marred the otherwise angelic features, and it was like a crack in a glass vase. It didn’t belong. There was a feeling rising within me that to continue speaking would be to inflict pain, but I couldn’t stop myself.\n\n\n“I can’t leave her like this. I can’t! Her father, he wouldn’t- he doesn’t- I have to be there for her!”\n\n\nA feeling of dread, and the weight of a decision to be made.\n\n\nI screamed again, and made my decision, and the angel’s face crumpled in grief. I felt keen loss as they removed their hand from mine. But I would give up anything and everything to protect my little baby girl, whose face I had seen but a moment, whose body I had held but an instant. I would stay here, for my baby Bethany, and watch over her as she grew, and protect her from anything and everything that would hurt her.\n\n\nA feeling of resolve filled me and eased the grief from the angel’s face. A nod. Then fingers brushed across my forehead, cool and fever hot and electrifying all at once, and everything went black.\n\n\n***\n\n\nI look up at the human above me. I have lived all my life in this cage, and the person above me is offering to take me out of it, but I am not fond of their smell. Grease and sweat and something sharp- no, this is not the human for me. I curl in the corner and hide my head until they are gone. And then I’m pressed back up against the bars of the cage, wagging my tail and looking for the next human.\n\n\nAnd then a smell wafts across my nose. It smells like every other little human that has come through this store, but something about it piques my senses and I stay there, wagging my tail and staring around for its source. Then, unexpectedly, I find myself being picked up and placed in the hands of a little girl. Her smell fills my nose, and my tail keeps wagging. A young girl is smiling down at me. “A new puppy?!” she yelps, “mynew puppy?!”\n\n\nI licked her face and her hands and wriggled around to show how much I liked the idea. The man standing next to her stared at me, seemingly lost in thought.\n\n\nFinally, he spoke. “Alright, you can have her.”\n\n\n‘Yes,’ I agreed, and I snuggled down into the crook of her arm, ‘I can have her. She is my human, and I will stay with her and watch over her and protect her from anything and everything that would hurt her. I may have just met her, but she is mine.’\n\n\nHe busied himself at the register, then turned to walk through the doors to freedom. He called out then “Bethany, come along now.”\n\n\n‘Bethany,’ I thought, ‘What a wonderful name for my girl.’",
"Two choices, they had told me. Remain in Heaven or descend. They said that you only got one chance, this was it, they couldn't save me if I returned. My love was too strong, I was a fool.\n\nThe early years were some of the best, watching her grow, learn and overcome every challenge life threw at her. The school years were challenging, watching her leave every morning and the hours of boredom in between. My wife eventually remarried, I couldn't even bite the new guy, they hadn't told me, you see. That I wouldn't be in control. \n\nI watched and waited at the door for her to return every night. It wasn't me though, not really. I was just a passenger. I experienced everything, the joy of being called a good boy, the calming sensation as she ruffled my fur and patted my belly. The taste of marrowbone jelly as I happily chewed the canned food they fed me every day. \n\nIt's worse now than any nightmare I could have imagined. Dogs aren't supposed to live this long, it's been 19 years. She moved out eventually and I went along.\n\nI'm still helpless. Unable to stop what's happening, unable to even close the eyes of the shell I inhabit. I have to watch it all, experience every sensation. The feeling of the socks getting pulled over my paws to stop the scratches. The taste of peanut butter. \n\nRemain in Heaven or descend. Hell was never mentioned and yet, it exists.",
"Her smell was the best thing in the whole world. Out of all the smells that ever existed, none could be any better than this. The pup nuzzled her snout under the girl’s chin, trying to inhale as much wonderful scent as possible. It was so strangely familiar, but her puppy brain was full of warm fuzzy baby thoughts and a few new, strange thoughts and it was hard to focus on any one of them. \n\nThere was a rumbling voice, the big kind male who had brought her here, pitched up in a question. The small girl’s response was excited and she laughed, mouth open wide. The excitement caused the pup’s tail to wag harder. She loved the way her girl sounded too! This girl was perfect. The girl looked down and repeated the same sound, making eye contact as her small lips puckered -oo- and grinned -see-. The pup tilted her head, listening. Was this a game? Oo-see. Loo-see. Lusie? Lucy? Lucy!\n\nDeclaring the name one last time, the girl squeezed her tight. Lucy found herself wrapped up in warmth and that wonderful, wonderful scent. She snuggled closer, a strange feeling of longing flooding her tiny body. It was as if roles had been reversed somehow, like she should be the one hugging instead. That emotion felt big and sad though, so Lucy let it be pushed aside by thoughts of love for her new girl. They were going to be best friends, she just knew it!\n\n",
"She was still so beautiful. Looking up into her eyes, I thought they were still blue, as blue as my own mother's had been, but of course, being a dog, I couldn't tell. I wondered what it was like for her. What had her childhood been like, without my love? Without her mommy?\n\nI was unprepared for the next words out of her mouth. \"Mommy, Daddy, I LOVE him!\"\n\nMommy? Who the fuck was \"Mommy\"? I'd been dead for 5 years.\n\nLooking up again, despite the weird angle and my colourblindness, I recognised them instantly. My husband, a little rounder, a little balder, and his secretary. \n\nShe calls that half-grown cheerleader, \"Mommy?!\" \n\nIn that moment, the secretary came over and hugged MY daughter. \"Verity,\" she said, breaking my heart in the most wonderful way--they had kept my daughter's name--\"Verity, you know I love you and Daddy with all my heart, but remember your other mother. She gave up her whole life, so that you could live.\"\n\n\"I know, Stacey-Mommy!\" my brilliant, precious daughter said, using what was obviously a more usual term. My heart relaxed, just a little. \"I was just excited. Hey,\" she said, beaming, \"What if I named my puppy after my first Mommy? Would that be okay?\" \n\nMy husband--Stacey-Mommy's husband--my little girl's father--raised an eyebrow in the way that used to turn me on and make me laugh simultaneously. \"Uh, he is a *boy* dog, honey,\" he said, smiling at Stacey-Mommy over Verity's head.\n\n\"So what? It can be a boy's name, it can be a dog's name. Can we go outside, now? I want to show everyone my new puppy,\" she said, leaning down and wrapping both sweet, slender arms around me, and pressing enthusiastic, childish kisses against my cold wet nose, before racing out the front door. \n\nJust like that, I was myself, or something close to it, and the only thing I cared about was spending one more moment with my darling girl. I barely even heard her father, as I trotted after Verity.\n\n\"A boy dog called Sue,\" he said with a chuckle, presumably to his wife, Stacey... I didn't care. I was chasing after my daughter, as I had her entire life, and this time, I would catch her. \n\n I doubted I'd get another second chance, but the short span of a dog's life didn't matter, somehow. For the next 8 to 12 years, I was finally home. "
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[WP] The year is 2074, and an Ancient God emerges from the ocean and chooses you as its host. You gain all its powers, allies and a neat extra voice in your head that tells you what to do sometimes. What it doesn’t tell you is that its Ancient enemy has risen as well and taken your sister as host.
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"\"What are you waiting for? You've seen the proof. I've helped you figure it out. She's right here. Right under your nose. I have fought for millenia, nearly been beaten dozens of times and nearly succeeded dozens more. But there has never been a better chance than this. All of my power, all of my skill and mastery and experience and yet I've never been able to defeat her. And yet here she is, as vulnerable as I, yet none the wiser to my power. To our power. It will be easy now, easier than it's even been. Easier than it has any right to be. Seize this opportunity now, while it lasts. Do it. Look, she stirs. She's already suspicious, if she sees us here, like this, she will put it together. Do it. Now. Strike first. Win the war. Do it. DO IT! NOW!!\"\n\n---\n\nI can hear their voices through the door. I don't know what they're saying but I hear them. It's weird, they sound like he sounds now. I can still hear him all the time, but I don't know what he's saying. It's not clear. \n\nThe mumbling outside stops and I hear the door open. I look up and a man walks in. He's short, only a little taller than I am. He's got lots of hair though, on his head and his face. I can see mommy and daddy through the door. They are hugging each other. Then the door shuts and I'm alone with the man.\n\n\"Good Morning Jacob, how are you?\" He says. I'm quiet. I don't like strangers. \"I'm Dr. Vellt. Is it ok if I come talk to you today?\" I still don't say anything. He walks over anyway and sits in the chair across from me. \"Dr. Richardson says you've been doing very well with her and that you're ready to talk to me now.\" \n\nI raise my head. \"You know Dr. Richardson? Is she coming today?\"\n\nHe shakes his head. \"No I'm afraid not. Like I've said, you're ready to talk to me now.\" I look down again. I don't want to talk to him. \"Hey, this is a good thing Jacob. Look at me.\" I look up. \"It means we've got him,\" he taps my head, \"under control.\"\n\nThinking of him makes me think about why I'm here. I HATE thinking about that. I shiver. Dr. Vellt shushes me but in a nice way and puts his hand on my shoulder. \n\n\"I know, I know. But you've done so well. So well. And it's only going to get better.\" He leans back and pulls out a notepad. \"So, why don't you tell me about that night. About how you felt.\"\n\nI squeeze my hands into a fist. It hurts a little, but it stops me from shaking so much. I try to think about what happened. I try to think about Juliet. I open my mouth, but then close it again right away. I don't know what to say. \n\nDr. Vellt waits patiently. After a few minutes of me not talking he takes a deep breath. \"It's ok, Jacob. You know this. From what Dr. Richardson has told me, you understand that it wasn't your fault. You weren't in control. It's ok. But you're in control now. Do you remember how to calm down?\" I remember what Dr. Richardson said about breathing. I take a deep breath in through my nose and hold it for a second. Then I push it out through my mouth. Just like we practiced. I did so good at breathing I started to get stickers every day. Dr. Vellt seems happy. \n\n\"That's good Jacob. That's very good.\" I look at him and he smiles very wide. His teeth are so white. He grabs his notepad again. \"Now, why don't you tell me how you felt that night when you... I'm sorry, he. When he killed your sister?\"",
"(Told from the sister's POV) It was a cloudy, average Fabuary day at ClearView ™️ High, sponsored by ClearView Optics ™️ , for any cyber needs in YOUR sockets! Freya could practically see the woman with evidently plastic boobs against a blue background in her head, the commercial having played between periods. She slammed her dusty, red, and quite ugly locker shut. She was late to history class, and just *couldn't* be late. As she walked down the hallway, she replayed an old musical song in her head- it was from Old Broadway before CyberMusic came to be. Freya sighed; Scientists were trying to make SQUIPs a real thing, known as the Patch ™️ . Stupid idea, look how Jeremy turned out. As she turned in the hall, her navy hoodie caught on something. Frowning, she turned to the FiberLyfe walls and saw it. But it was impossible- nothing could break through Fyber. So why was a tiny hook poking through?\n\nThe hook was golden, and had a shimmer to it; Freya recalled the unique sheen of the yellowish metal from ROCKS! class. On it was a small necklace, made of a strange metal. On its end was a pendant, one that held a small rock. None of this was possible, much less the rock- it was gray, yet had red bands rippling throughout it. As if fate had gripped her, Freya caught herself unclasping the necklace. She shrugged- her brother, Gabriel, often found himself doing random things without his notice lately; maybe it was a genetic thing. Placing it around her pale neck, it felt right. Unlike anything in this \"utopic\" society. As she clasped the necklace once again, the wings came.It was golden. The rock. It was golden now, with white bands slicing through the shimmery surface. Freya blinked, shocked; even FyberLife walls couldn't just change color. She turned around to see if any TechnoSchool BOTS were around, trying to catch skippers such as her; and she realized she was no longer in ClearView ™️ 's dim hallways, but rather in a vast desert with little but sand and flora in it. Her prematurely white hair was a model's shimmery black mane, her vampiric-pale skin an Egyptian's golden tan. White wings shone around her, and a name rang in her head; ***Kaelax. Kaelax.*** Suddenly, the craziness dissipated. She was face\\~down on the linoleum floors, the smell of the desert still lingering. She felt it. Kaelax. She felt the wings shimmering just below the surface of her cells, ready to manipulate the universe- and more. She was no longer Freya, but a powerful deity ready to destroy anything who dared cross it.\n\nFreya was now Kaelax.\n\n​\n\n​\n\nI'll do a part 2 later, see you lot then! Feedback is TOTALLY welcome. Thanks.",
"Originally, the day had been fairly normal. \nAlexander was on a beach trip with his family. They spent the day walking along the sand, playing volleyball, eating food, etc. \nOne of these activities was surfing. Alexander and his younger sister, June, decided to go surfing during a high tide. Both of them were rather good at it, but of course it wasn't the best idea. As soon as the first wave appeared, Alexander knew that it was a mistake to get in the water. \nThe wave was the size a hundred blue whales. Panicking, both of them attempted to swim away. Just like all the others trying, however, they failed and were swallowed by the violent waters. \nAlexander felt as was hit by a jackhammer. He had broken bones and couldn't move. Still in the water, he somehow opened his eyes and realized that both he and his sister were falling deeper into the ocean. Both were bleeding. \n***Accept me, and you will be able to save her***. \nIt wasn't exactly a resonating voice that Alexander heard. It was simply there. It was a concrete thought filling his mind, that he knew wasn't his own. It didn't dominate his actions or control him, but he was completely aware of it. He felt the confidence and power behind those words. Somehow, he knew what he had to do. \n\"*I accept you, \\[\\]\"* Alexander responded, thinking the name of an entity forgotten by man itself. \nAlexander felt his pain vanish and wounds vanish. Any discomfort he had from opening his eyes in the water was now gone. With just a thought, he made sure that June was protected by an invisible barrier and healed any wounds she may have had. He then closed his eyes, pretending to be unconscious, and allowed both of them to drift to the surface. \n The god knew who its enemy was, but it would not be the one to strike first and tear apart this family. \n... \nTo save her kind older brother, of course June would be willing to take the ancient power that was put in front of her. As the both of them reached the surface, June secretly spread her energy throughout the beach. She healed the wounds of anyone hurt by the wave, and rewrote the memories of everyone present to believe that nothing bad had happened. \nOf course, she reached out to her brother as well. \n***You don't need to do that,*** the deity dwelling within her soul told her. ***He seems fine.*** \n*It's better to be safe than sorry,* she replied. The deity did not inform her of the fact that her healing did not work on her brother, nor the fact that she couldn't actually rewrite his memories. \n\"That was fun!\" Alexander laughed, opening his eyes. He was lying, and believed that *he* was the one that had rewrote his *sister's* memories. To her sister, however, this was confirmation that she successfully healed and changed his memory. \n\"Yeah!\" June smiled. \"We should do it again!\" \n\"I'm getting a bit hungry again though. Let's get out of the water.\" \n\"Sure,\" June consented, and the two of them left together. \nThe deity knew who its enemy was, but it would not be the one to strike first and tear apart this family. ",
"“This is getting ridiculous!”Paricea screamed in my mind, “For years, you had my forces and you decide to talk?!”\n\n“Is Skirus giving you a hard time too?” I ask my sister as I casually refilled her tea.\n\n“Oh, no,” she laughed, “Not at all. But you could easily change that.” She adjusted her glasses to look at her tablet, almost paper-thin and the holographic control panel hovering by her left hand.\n\n“Oh? And what do I have to do in order for that to happen?” I settled down in my chair, with enough blankets and pillows for it to be considered my second bed. I gave her a cheeky smile.\n\n“Did you enjoy any James Cameron’s Avatar movies? If so...” We were both silent. Then at the same time, we cracked up.\n\n“What are you waiting for?! Our war shall not wait any longer! You vowed loyalty to me and for what? For you to befriend my mortal enemy!” Paricea was a broken record, we had this conversation for multiple years...\n\n“Well, should’ve given me the offer before I got arthritis,” I projected my thoughts to the immortal god, “Maybe before I turned 78.” Needless to say, he should’ve picked someone more suited for this whole General of the Ocean thing. Same thing for Skirus, he should’ve never picked a 81 year old woman for Sky Commander. And they should’ve know that not every sibling out there has a horrible relationship like them... Thankfully, Skirus knew that. Paricea kept grudges like he was a Greek god.\n\n“Shall we ignore the deities for another day?” My sister inquired.\n\n“Oh! Please! They can wait for a few more years... by the way, how close are we to immortality?”\n\n“Science says,” she tapped away on her tablet for a moment, “Within the decade.”\n\n“We got plenty of time then,” I picked up my coffee and had a sip of it. Finally, I can have coffee straight from the pot without adding anything to it. Only took 58 years. “And how’s your book coming along?”\n\n“Oh, the fans will love it! If Skirus is right, it will be the best one yet!”\n\n“And I hope before then, Paricea will actually acknowledge that this feud is rather silly.”\n\n“Never!” Such a stubborn asshat...\n\n“Care to let me have a sneak peek?” I wrapped a blanket around my legs to settle in for the hourlong reading fest.\n\n“Of course,” she swiped the screen and her work-in-progress novel replaced the previous news article, “Where were we last?”",
"Where do I even start?\n\nMy name’s David. I was just a normal dude, doing a regular Martian hike in my EHS on a Sinoday. How the fuck was I supposed to know that that glint came from a fucking… what do I even call it? I'll just call it a Relic. Whatever. Who the fuck cares.\n\nWell, I was hiking on the Olympus Trail when I saw a glint from that Relic thingy. I thought it could've been something expensive, a piece of jewellery or whatever. Wanted to sell it for a bit of cash, see if anyone wanted it.\n\nI dug it out and got a fucking genie lamp. Well, there was no genie in it, though I did rub it a bit for the laughs. This thing wasn't gonna get me shit. I'd probably get like 10 Ares, maybe 12. That'd tide me over for like a day. That was disappointing.\n\nI left it at home for a bit. Didn't think I should sell it til after the selling season. I mean, why would you buy a genie lamp when you could buy a golden necklace for half the regular price?\n\nMaybe it was a coincidence, but I don't think so. Cause the day after I got home with that fucking lamp, I began to see things. Stuff got moved around without anyone ever entering the house. Ornaments fell off the wall. Food disappeared. Okay, maybe that last one was just me eating too much.\n\nIn any case, I thought back and correlated it to the lamp. I grabbed the lamp and looked inside the spout. It was dark inside, as expected. I was about to put it down when I heard a faint hum. Putting it back in my hands, the dumb fuck that is my brain decided that I should try to open the lamp.\n\nThe lid came off after a hard pull, and the lamp glowed with fierce golden rays coming out of it. Symbols that I didn't recognise appeared in glistening white, floating all around me.\n\nAnd I blacked out.\n\nWhen I woke up, I thought I'd been dreaming. “There's no magic in this world! It's probably some fancy new tech. Could probably sell for a tad bit,” I thought.\n\nThen, it spoke.\n\nA harsh, deep voice spoke to me, its origins seemingly from everywhere around me, and nowhere at all. \n\n“Who are you?”\n\n\n=============================\n\nI'll do a part 2 later, I don't think I can manage this prompt in a short form. I've done a few prompts on my other account, but this is the first one I've done on this account, which is gonna be dedicated to writing so yeah. Give me some reviews and advice please :)"
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[WP] Scientists have created a drug which makes you forget the last 24 hours, to help people who have had traumatic experiences and such. You have woken up with cuts and bruises, but with no memory of the previous day. You want to know what happened.
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"On each other occasion I had awoken in a strange place with no memory of what had made me take the pill. Once I came slowly back to consciousness in the deep shadow under a bridge, lying in shallow water, wedged in where the concrete of the ground met the concrete of the arch. Another time I awoke in a filthy bed surrounded by addicts and I checked myself minutely for the tell-tale circle of little holes, but thank all the gods I was clean. The last time was in a green field, far outside the city, near an abandoned house, lying out in the open. When I came to I was lying face down and the grass smelled fresh and pure. How was I getting to these places? What was causing me to take the pill each time? I had no idea because in my normal humdrum non-pill life I could not fathom how it spiralled out of control, what it spiralled into, how reckless oblivion in these dangerous places could seem preferable to me than just going home.\n\nEach other time I had awoken in some discomfort, but this is the first time I have awoken in pain. I am in the backseat of a car, my right leg twisted awkwardly. Every time I move there is a wave of pain that seems to have an infinite number of sources, running across my body and making me wince and moan and wonder what could have happened. But the drug is complete; it leaves no trace memories to be restored or remembered later.\n\nThe more my consciousness returns, the more pain I realise I am in. And I find that my belt has been loosened. And the buttons on my shirt are buttoned incorrectly. I begin to feel a building sense of horror.\n\nI force myself out of the car, pushing back the pain. I walk in no specific direction looking for some familiar thing but there is nothing. I am in a part of the city I have never seen before. Rain is dripping from a rooftop after a heavy storm and I am so desperate for water that I drink some of it. It tastes metallic and contaminated. I stagger, almost fall, catch myself. I fall out into a main street and lose my balance completely, land hard on the ground. I find myself looking at a high-heeled leather boot, decorated with gold tracing and an arc of glittering crystals. The woman steps over me and doesn’t stop. I get a glimpse of her face staring straight forward, a designed jawline and electric blue hair. I cough hard, get to my knees, get to my feet, lean on a selfie car that honks and replays some automated message. I cough more.\n\nSomehow I get home on the autobus, the thumb-scanner beeping red to indicate my charity-case status. The pain has eased and I am a little stronger, and I stand in the centre of my apartment. To my right the bed, to my left the table. On the wall is a long mirror, and I know what I want to do but I cannot do it. I cannot make myself.\n\nAnd then bit by bit I shed my clothing. The tie, the filthy misbuttoned shirt, the open belt, the stained trousers, the thin jacket. I drop it all to the ground and stand there, naked, vulnerable old. \n\nThe cuts are everywhere, cruel traces lines like filigree, on my legs, my ass, my arms, my chest, my back. My back most of all is covered, some of the patterns lost in the purples and browns of recent bruising and dried, stained blood. But there at the top, right across my shoulder blades, written in mirror script so that I can can see it clearly, is a huge, unmistakable message, sliced deeply into my body. \n\nIt says: ‘NO MORE FORGETTING’.\n\n​\n\n​",
"You jump out head with a bad headache and weezy stomach. While you drag yourself to the door you see something. \"A picture?\" you think.\nBut as your eyes adjust you realise it's a picture of you with a blue eyed red beanie wearing 17 year old looking man with red sharpie on top written\n\"TAKE WHAT'S IN YOUR HAND\" almost instinctively you open your hands to see a purple pill. \"Oh my fucking god, how long have I been here?!?\" you think, shaking with adrenaline. somehow you muster up the courage to shout for help, but as you finish you notice something in the corner of your eye. \"TAKE IT NOW\" \"SWALLOW IT\" repeated over and over again on all of the walls. at this point you are on the verge of tears. knowing that you have to leave, you go for the door but it's locked. as you take your hand off the door knob you see another picture attached to the door. it's a picture of an arm with a cut terrifyingly looking like your arm. as you walk back you start to see more pictures of arms with cuts on them, sex scenes with you and the guy, the front door to your mother's house, when suddenly, you remember. \"Oh.\" you think as you stop shaking. With your mind seemingly gone blank you calmy walk back to the bed, sit back down and take the pill. You pass out.\n\nMoments later you jump out with a bad headache and a weezy stomach...",
"*(Alert. Dark themes, trigger warning. It's pretty obvious that the WP scientists are complete idiots.)*\n\n*= = = = \\[Edited for formatting\\] = = = =*\n\n\"...mmm. Urgh...\"\n\nPained moans emerge from dry lips as wakefulness intrudes in on my slumber. Sensations from all over, all knocking at once bearing mixed messages. I feel ravaged. Or is it ravished? I feel at once eighty and eighteen: my limbs and lower body are telling completely different stories, although they are both sore and exhausted.\n\n*Hang on. Where's my boxers?*\n\n\"Shit!\"\n\nTartan sheets fly off my bare chest as I sat up in surprise.\n\n*Morning. My room. My posters. My bed. So far, so good, but I don't like going commando. Never understood why Thomas does it. He says he likes the freedom, but I can not imagine being able to sleep.*\n\nWell, obviously I did. Yet I can't even find any loose garments around the room, let alone a shred of memory recent enough to matter right now.\n\nMy left hand gropes at the side table, and instinctively finds the phone. Same place as it always is, although there's a sensation of empty space next to it. The screen comes to life as I lift the blocky junk to my face. Three notices and missed calls, but before I could read the text, I notice the scabs on my left arm.\n\nNew lines, running alongside the old, almost invisible scars from a stupider time. *No, don't think about that part. Where did this new one come from?*\n\nI check myself over. Another bruise here. Cut there. Oh there's a sizable band-aid above my right eye. It needs changing. That sticky, humid itch somehow lost itself amongst the other aches and complaints, until now.\n\nThe phone buzzes, and a sudden anxiety rises in my confused mind. I curl up like a hedgehog as Thomas's voice breaks the morning quiet.\n\n\"Ah, you're up. Feeling okay, man?\" *That opening, he knows something.*\n\n\"Um, maybe. What happened, Tom?\"\n\n\"Phew, that's a long story. Where do I start?\" *Bingo.*\n\n\"Uh... let's start with the cuts and bruises.\"\n\n\"So. Last night at the bar. You, my man, got into a fight when I went off to take a leak. One-on-two, no less. Then we all got kicked out and into the station. Should have waited for me, dickwad.\"\n\n*Speaking of which...* \"Okay, but I don't remember any of this.\"\n\n\"That's a worry. The bastards got you you good, but I didn't think that blood on your face meant anything serious.\"\n\n*...Do I ask about how I feel fucking used? Angry and powerless? I contain myself.* \"I don't have a headache right now.\"\n\n\"The other thing is, coppers said your drink might be spiked. Word has it there's a new drug in town, so they're sending glassware off to be tested. Hal's still raging about having to buy extra to keep the place open tonight. Plus everybody's spit, too.\"\n\n*Interesting.* I look left at the shelf, seeing only a box of countertop painkillers. Opened.\n\n\"Tom, do you have my stuff? I don't see my wallet.\"\n\n\"One of them ran off with it. I can't cancel your card, so you'll have to do it as soon as you're fully awake, ok? I'm coming over now. I got off work so I can take you around. ...dude, do you remember any of this?\"\n\n*The tone of concern is touching, I guess. We did grow up together, fist-fighting our way through the school yard.* \"Yeah... Nah. Something is wrong, Tom. I don't know how to put it. But...\"\n\n\"We'll stop by Dr Nick on our way to the station. He'll make sure everything is ok.\"\n\n\"No I mean -\"\n\n\"Just chill, I'll be there for you.\"\n\n\"Alright, see you in ten.\" I chicken out, but at least I remember how far Thomas lived.\n\n\"Ciao. If you still feel stiff, I left some drugs on the table. Third-party crap, but does the job.\"\n\n*Yeah, I feel like a zombie alright. I could use a few pills. But first I should see what else I missed - hopefully not a Presidential Alert for midnight rapists.*\n\nMissed calls: Thomas, Thomas, mother.\n\n*Meh.*\n\nNotice one. Phone out of credit, please recharge.\n\n*Story of my life.*\n\nNotice two. Mother's WhatsApp message. Hope I can come home for Christmas. GBub23's WhatsApp message. Still remember wild night; third date?\n\n*...maybe.* I sigh. *Don't want to think about it right now.*\n\nNotice three. Bank balance alert.\n\n*Yeah, better check.* I flummox myself at the login. I reset it yesterday afternoon, so naturally I forget the new code. I wrote a slip of paper with a hint, but it's... in my wallet.\n\n*Shit.*\n\nOk, chill. There's at least one thing that I can at least succeed at right now, and that's taking a pill, then dress myself before Thomas arrives. I grab the box then haul my sorry, bare ass to the sink. It's a tiny studio, so this challenge involves walking five steps then shoving a flimsy curtain aside.\n\nI spot clothes in a pile by the porcelain. *Bits of blood, check.* The blister pack crinkles as I pop out a pair, eyes staring at the mirror, not having a big enough pair to check the brand and use-by date. Tom and I have both sourced some shady meds in the past. *Better to rely on the placebo effect, than to know the truth.*\n\nI drink some water from the tap. *God, I feel like shit.* I remember Hal's bar, but not walking into it. I remember Dr Nick, but wasn't that on TV? Wonder drug for PTSD, he claimed. Too late for the likes of me, but the military is actually considering this madness... *Fuck, that's some Big Brother news. Not even allowed to remember that you're a killer, just the good soldier bits.*\n\nThe lack of yesterday is really on my mind. Is this what hardcore junkies feel after their memories have been shot to pieces? I look down again. The cloths I'm supposed to have worn are torn. Shirt, once torn. Jeans, thrice torn. A corner of my boxers stick out from underneath, ...torn.\n\n*What.*\n\nThe pills are in my mouth by the time the doorbell rings. A moment of terror hits me, and I can't tell if it's my own PTSD or something even worse.\n\nDo I spit and pretend, or do I swallow and forget?"
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[WP] your eyes fly open. You rest on a metal table, with a thin white blanket rested over you. Not a person is in sight. You wonder through the hospital like building until eventually finding the exit. You look around and see a flyer on a nearby mailbox. “MISSING”. below, is a picture of your face.
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"There was a room, small and clean, walls of metal that reflected the sharp light of the desk lamp that leaned ominously over the table. There was a low droning sound in her ears that seemed almost to resonate with her jaw, teeth rattling like bowling pins in an earthquake. There was a door, a faint outline against the monotonous reflection and yet seemed brighter still. An arm was there to push against it, and so she did for what else was there to do.\n\nThe door opened into stairs made of asphalt up which newfound legs were happy to climb. The sky was blue like she expected it to be, and yet the blue was too blue to be blue as the sky. No, the blue was hard, sharp, and utterly monotonous, lacking any stars clouds or moons. There was no sun, yet the sky seemed bright enough to illuminate the street. Her old street, she thought as she stepped out of the stairwell in the middle of traffic. As the cars pushed past her on each side, never once coming close enough for contact, she thought it curious that today nobody had chosen to drive the cars that were driving down the street. \n\nThe house just to her up was her old house, the one she had grown up in and it looked just like it did when that had been the case. The yard, the garage, even the mailbox was there, just like she remembered it just like she remembered the staircase with the malfunctioning elevator which always made her always have to climb all the stairs on her way home. There was a mailbox, on the side of the street, in front of their lawn. She felt a need to check the mail in the mailbox but remembered that there was no note on the mailbox anyway. The sky is blue. The sky/. \n\nThere was a note on the mailbox. The note was soft against her skin as she picked it up and folded over her hand like linen. She could see the note as it fell across her palm like notes always did. A mirror on a note and she had a face because she recognized herself. She was the note, on the note, one with the note. She was on the note next to a text that told her that she wasn't there. She was missing from the note. She was missing from the/. She was missing. She was, She used to be, She/. She is missing? \n\nShe looked at the note that was a melted mirror in her hands. She had a face, she had arms that held the note and eyes to see them. And white clouds filled a sky that was blue behind her. That was blue. That was/. The sky was blue, and she had no hands with which to hold a note, let alone the eyes with which to read it. The sky was blue, a bright blue in which there could be no clouds. Then there were clouds, long and white and shaped like words as they began appearing in the sky. And then she was missing."
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[WP] Your supervillain business isn't very profitable and you go bankrupt. Your nemesis has no idea how to react.
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"I really wanted to kill that bastard, spent years and billions of dollars on it, didn’t see my kids for weeks on end and when I was at my lowest he just twisted the knife deeper. I was bankrupt after building all of them lasers and doom carrots then failing 59 times to kill him the bank told me to fuck off and get a real job. So I started to just rob banks and of course he stopped me again and again then again again.\n\nSo a month ago, I declared bankruptcy, my goons left me when I didn’t pay them and then sort of stole their pensions, and my base was destroyed when they found out about the pensions. It’s amazing how angry goons can get I nearly died, well not nearly I am great and they are shit, so I just locked them in the base and then blew the base up. I was out of money and really hit rock bottom and then it came, finally I was the lucky one and won one time and it was a hell of a win.\n\nCaptain better then me was lost without haveing to foil my daily plot so he started to fill the time with normal work, no meteors or A bombs just helping old ladies, recycling and telling kids heroins not hip. He really took to a gentler life it appeared until the one morning when he was hit by a bus dragged 50 miles and died in horrible pain. \n\nIf I had known that I didn’t need a shrink ray or a nerve toxin to kill him, just a bus I could have bought every bus in the city and squished him. I had just finished watching megamind on the tv when I heard the news, I knew exactly what to do rob a bank, who would stop me with him dead. Then rob the hooker and cocaine shop and disappear to Thailand, because really I didn’t want an arch nemesis I just wanted to rob banks and be a rich bastard so I’m not going to miss him.\n"
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[WP] A major error in the postal service has lead to a decades long backlog of letters now suddenly arriving daily at your house, you read them and begin to unravel the story of the previous owner. What you start to piece together is horrifying.
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"The wintry air outside breathed against the snow-kissed windows. I sat by myself, the lone lamp harshly illuminating my desk. The chair, the desk, the house was comfortable, though not too comfortable – everything had an edge to it that was subtle but perceptible.\n\nThis house was old. The walls turning beige gave it away. But with its age it carried a charm, the intoxicating smell of hardwood and the intricate patterns drawn on vintage furniture that seized your eyesight, perhaps a bit too much. This was a house full of love, but with love came baggage. When the postman came this morning, he delivered a box marked with “FAILED TO DELIVER” in large pink letters. Inside, it was filled with letters, weighing the box down with their ideas. That box now sat on my desk. I have been reading the letters all morning, and the pieces are finally starting to come together.\n\n>Dear Alfred,\n\n>I hope you’re enjoying yourself. It must be lonely by yourself, without family and friends, right? Who am I kidding. You’re in the city. There’s no way you can be lonely. You walk outside and you’ll see fresh sets of faces that you’ve never seen before. So how is it? How different is the city from the town? I’m a bit concerned for you because you haven’t written for the past few weeks.\n>Love, \n\n>Eve\n\n***\n\nMy fingers traced across the paper as I read. It was fine paper, smooth and creamy in colour, but there were grooves where a pen had once gouged ink into the paper.\n\n>Dear Eve,\n\n>I don’t know if you’re reading these letters or not, because you never seem to reply. The city is great, but I feel lonely all the time. The people outside have no respect for the old like we did back in the town. Old things, old ideas. I found a lovely old house, at a marvellous price too. A charming house to distract myself from others. These city people, they’re my age but I don’t feel much like them at all. They’re vain and frivolous, and I told you how they didn’t like old things. Anyways, I know this might sound funny, but lately I’ve been suspecting that this house is haunted – I don’t know why, maybe it’s my nerves acting up because of the strangeness of the city in general? I’ve been too afraid to visit the basement. I don’t know why. Thought this might interest you.\n\n>Love, \n\n>Alfred\n\n***\n\n>Dear Eve,\n>I figured it out. Our letters aren’t getting through. That postman, that little rat, I knew he’d fail! I knew it from the look of him. I knew it by the moment he first set foot on my turf. Anyways, I visited the basement and there was nothing. Well, not exactly. There weren’t any ghosts for sure, but there was this book, and it was beautiful, beautiful I’m telling you. It had no title, just a cover bound by soft red leather and what was inside was a treasure. You see, it was something that agreed with me for once. The city people, they are frivolous and lacked all virtue. The book showed me what was good. An important philosopher or something must have lived inside this house and wrote it. I’m so excited to show this to the world.\n\n>Love, \n\n>Alfred\n\n***\n\n>Dear Alfred,\n\n>Yes, I’m getting your letters now. Our kids are great. Sam had already learned how to walk and Jasper started school in January. I must say I’m a bit concerned for you, Alfred. You seemed to hate this postman a lot. Why do you assume that the postman did it deliberately? It might just be an innocent mistake, like when we were back in school, Mrs Porter accidentally marked some of your questions wrong and gave you the wrong grade. You were so upset. But then we went to her office together and it turned out that she had stayed up all night trying to mark our exams and was half-asleep when she got to yours. I’m sure the postman is just a nice person who’s a bit confused on the inside. And the city people. They can’t all be frivolous and distasteful! There must be some great people who you just haven’t met yet.\n\n>Love, \n\n>Eve\n\n***\n\n>Dear Eve,\n\n>I have great news. I just got my latest piece published! Seems like all the hard work had finally paid off. Yes, it was in the *Daily Patriot*, and I know how you feel about that paper, but hear me out. It was a compromise. I know you don’t agree with it, and I don’t fully either. But it was a pathway to letting the ideas spread. The ideas in the book shall touch the world. They’ll show these city-people what constitutes as holy and pure while they suffocate in their own excrement because they cannot discriminate what sets the good apart from the bad. Did you know some people I’ve met actually defended the postman? They said that he was just a little boy and his parents were poor and his superior is the one who is always forgetful, but they don’t see that, little boy or not, he is inefficient. His roots should have indicated. He is impure. He is from an impure place. I can’t fathom how you might expect me to like these city-people. Did you know that the *Daily Patriot* was the only paper that would publish my piece? I found a book, and it was the only thing that gave life meaning, made it make sense for me, and everyone I spoke to shot it down. They told me it was garbage and I shouldn’t believe in it. They don’t see that it’s history. They don’t see that it’s tradition. Tradition is the glue that holds society together. Without it, you have little mongrel postmen running around not delivering letters properly. We will build a pure society, and we will save society from themselves.\n\n>Love,\n\n>Alfred\n\n***\n\n>Dear Alfred,\n\n>Your comments about purity concerns me. What does it mean that people are impure? Can people be impure based solely on their parents? Love is pure. Love is the only thing that is pure. I’ve heard great things about the city, a place where people may love each other freely, where love does not discriminate and be bound by the same rules we have here. I’ve heard that in the city, love is free, and love is the purest of them all, it is an emotion that moves mountains, an emotion that rewrites laws and melts icy hearts. Remember when we got married? The people in town chided me for marrying into a poor family, but I knew who you were, Alfred Kingston, I saw you in your brilliance and I saw the boy that topped the class and looked far into the city skyscrapers while the rest of us mulled in our fields and in front of our televisions. Don’t make the same mistake as they did, Alfred. I love you, but I’m not sure if you are still the same person.\n\n>Love,\n\n>Eve\n\n***\n\n>Dear Eve,\n\n>I can’t believe that of all the people, you’d be one to disagree with me. Can’t you see? People have always lived life in a certain way, and then everything changed. Laws changed, rules changed, our culture changed. No one appreciates the old ways anymore, and that’s why so many people are impure these days. I will restore society to its former glory and might. Back in town, people laughed at me for thinking I could marry you. Look at where I am now, in the city, where none of them could ever dream of. Isn’t it the same with city-people?\n\n>Best regards, \n\n>Alfred\n\n***\n\n>Dear Alfred,\n\n>I read your last letter and I don’t know if you’ll be reading this, but your plan won’t work. Your words, “martyrdom”, “sacrifice”, they scare me, Alfred. No matter how important you think your mission is, please, don’t do it. They’ll call you mad and take you away, they’ll put you in jail. That book. Burn it. Please. You used to be so wonderful and kind, but that book has given you hate, it has given you a group of people to save who don’t need to be saved. It corrupted you. It made you into your own enemy, it made you the same as the people thought we shouldn’t be together. Please, Alfred, think about our children. Don’t you care about them anymore? Is this mission really what you believe in?\n\n>Love,\n\n>Eve\n\n***\n\nI reached for another letter, but as my fingertips reached the paper, my hand recoiled with a sudden jerk. How can something as smooth and harmless as this paper have such a burn to it?\nIt was me. I didn’t want to read anymore.\n\nSlowly, I carried the box to the basement, as if waking from a great sleep. And then I saw it, the monster in the basement, the thing that haunted the house. A mahogany chair, shining bright red despite there being no light. On top of it was a book. I walked closer. Bound by red leather, the cover was as soft as skin and the pages had an allure to them, something of history, something that felt like it had weight and significance, something that would draw eyeballs like the intricate patterns on the furniture. The edges of my pages kissed my fingertips, warm in the middle of the snow, inviting.\n\nI lifted the book and placed it gently into the box, where it lay with broken letters. I sealed the box and hid it away in a corner. The house was mine. It had history. It was old and brought with it its allure. But on top of it all, it was mine. History was mine to make meaning of, mine to pick out the best parts and leave out the dredges. I would interpret history instead of letting it interpret me.\n\n***\nLoved this? Check out r/ProjectSlate!",
"May 23rd, 1989\n\nDear Mr. Gomez, \n\nThank you for sending in your manuscript. Sadly, it does not fit the new direction our company is trying to pursue. We encourage you to send your manuscript to other publishing houses, or to send us a new manuscript, in accordance to the guidelines attached to this letter. \n\nSincerely, \n\nDavid Peterson\nFirst Reader\n\n__________________________________|\n\nAugust 27th, 1989\n\nDear Mr. Gomez, \n\nYou are hereby invited to attend the DuMont Estate's gala on September 3rd. Wear your best clothing, and come ready to leave well into the night. \n\nSincerely, \n\nKara DuMont. \n\n_________________________________|\n\nSeptember 4th, 1989\n\nDear Mr. Gomez, \n\nI am a journalist working for the Lakeview Herald. I would like to interview you for a story about recent events near your home. Attached is my schedule for the next week and a half. Please return this letter with whatever time is most convenient for you marked, and I will meet with you then at your place of residence.\n\nBest wishes, \n\nKate George. \n\n____________________________________|\n\nSeptember 10th 1989\n\nJosé, \n\nWe need to talk about Sep. 3rd. They know what you saw. Meet me ASAP. I'll be in the motel until the end of the month. \n\nMarcus. \n\n_____________________________________|\n\nSeptember 20th, 1989\n\nDear Mr. Gomez, \n\nI am a journalist working for the Lakeview Herald. I would like to interview you for a story about recent events near your home. Attached is my schedule for the next week. Please return this letter with whatever time is most convenient for you marked, and I will meet with you then at your place of residence.\n\nBest wishes, \n\nKate George. \n\n________________________________________|\n\nIf you tell anybody about what happened you are dead\n\n_________________________________________|\n\nSeptember 28th, 1989\n\nDear Ms. Gomez, \n\nWe regret to inform you that your father is in critical condition in the hospital. We tried contacting you by phone multiple times. He is being cared for at Lakeview Hospital. As you are his next of kin, we require your signature before we can proceed with the necessary surgeries. \n\nM. Pearson, \nLakeview Hospital. \n\n_____________________________________________|\n\nDecember 8th, 1989\n\nJosé, \n\nGlad to hear you're alive. I'm coming to you next week. We'll figure something out. \n\nMarcus. \n\n_______________________________________________|\n\nDecember 28th,1989\n\nMr. Gomez, \n\nWe are willing to negotiate for your silence on this matter. Please come to our abode within the next week if you are interested. \n\nK.G.\n\n______________________________________________|\n\nMarch 2nd, 1990\n\nDear Mr. Gomez, \n\nWe regret to inform you that your application has been rejected. Feel free to apply at another time, when you have acquired more relevant experience. \n\nSincerely,\n\nClarkson and Sons\n\n________________________________________________|\n\nMay 27th, 1990\n\nJosé, \n\nSee attached. Told you so. \n\nMarcus. \n\n________________________________________________|\n\nAugust 12th, 1990\n\nJulia, \n\nSorry about your dad. I'll see if I can help him out. If you see him, tell him to stay on the DL. \n\nMarcus. \n_______________________________________________|\n\nAugust 26th, 1990\n\nDear Mr. Gomez, \n\nYou are hereby invited to attend the DuMont Estate's gala on September 5th. Wear your best clothing, and come ready to leave well into the night. \n\nSincerely, \n\nKara DuMont. \n_______________________________________________|\n\nSeptember 18th, 1990\n\nDear Mr. Gomez, \n\nI am a journalist working for the Lakeview Herald. I would like to interview you for a story about recent events near your home. Attached is my schedule for the next week. Please return this letter with whatever time is most convenient for you marked, and I will meet with you then at your place of residence.\n\nBest wishes, \n\nKate George. \n\n___________________________________________|\n\nSeptember 22nd, 1990\n\nJulia,\n\nGet to my place ASAP. Your dad is with me. \n\nMarcus. \n\n_____________________________________________|\n\nNovember 17th, 1990.\n\nDear Mr. Gomez, \n\nWe regret to inform you that the results were positive. The blood found at the scene was that of your colleague, Marcus Johnson. \n\nPlease report to the station as soon as you can. \n\nSincerely, \n\nFrederick Johansen. \nLakeview PD. \n\n____________________________________________|",
"January 4, 1986\n\nElle,\n\nI know it sucks. I was there too, remember? But you’re almost over the finish line. Just a few more months and you’ll graduate. Then you can go wherever you want. Get yourself a ticket out of there. Pick a guy with a good work ethic and get knocked up like I did. If you can’t wait for college then grab one of the boys in your high school. Or a teacher or whatever. I know you’ve got to get out of there. You can do it.\n\nBut you can’t come here.\n\nTed was my way out and I’ve got a good thing going here. Having a pretty younger sister around batting her eyelashes will NOT help me out. Don’t deny it. I know you have a crush on him. And he’s stupid enough to make some regrettable decisions and then you’ll mess us everything for me.\n\nGet yourself out. Finish your senior year and then get yourself out.\n\nI love you.\nBonnie.\n\n\n\nJanuary 5, 1986\n\nMel,\n\nYou were wrong. There’s no way Bon will take me in. I wish I could just jump on the train and go down to you, but there’s no way your mom wouldn’t send me back here. And with the whole twin ESP thing my mom would probably know where I was the second your mom found out.\n\nI’m driving Mom crazy. I know it. I’ve been pestering everyone I love and I keep just wasting their time with my problems. Except, I can’t talk about my REAL problems, so they just hear about stuff like how hard it is to keep my piano in tune in the dining room, and how mean the other waitresses at Bryan’s are. That stuff just doesn’t seem so important.\n\nNone of it’s important.\n\nElle.\n\n\n\nJanuary 17, 1986\n\nBonnie,\n\nI’m driving Mom crazy. I’m driving everyone crazy. Love your kids a lot of kisses from Auntie Elle, okay? Tell them I love them.\n\nI love you.\nElle.\n\n\n\nJanuary 24, 1986\n\n*OUR DEEPEST SYMPATHIES*\n\nDear Mr and Mrs Keith MacElroy,\n\nPlease accept the sincere condolences of everyone here at Shorebird Insurance. Keith, take all the leave you need. We are here for you, and you are in our thoughts.\n\nBest regards,\n\nAnderson Samuels, CEO\nShorebird Insurance\n\n\n\nJanuary 24, 1986\n\nTo Mrs Bonnie Connors and Mrs Debora MacElroy;\n\nIt is the decision of the Framingham Police Department that the original letter, dated January 17, 1986, written by Miss Elizabeth MacElroy and addressed to Mrs Bonnie Connors, must remain in the custody of the Framingham Police Department. The letter is evidence and crucial to our ongoing investigation.\n\nGiven the nature of the letter and its attenuating circumstances, you may come to the station and make a photocopy of the letter if you choose to do so.\n\nPlease direct and further inquiries to Detective Richard Mansfield.\n\nSincerely,\nR Mansfield\n\n\n\nJanuary 24, 1986,\n\nAunt Deb,\n\nI’m enclosing the last letter Elle sent me.\n\nI don’t know what to say.\n\nWe’re all here for you.\n\nMelanie\n\n\n\nJanuary 30, 1986\n\nKeith,\n\nStop it. Just stop. There is a reason the kids stayed with *my* folks while we were in town. There is a reason I will not let you anywhere near them. Do I really need to spell it out for you?\n\nStop trying to invite yourself over. Stop playing the victim. Just stop.\n\nTheodore Connors\n\n\n\nFebruary 4, 1986\n\nDeb,\n\nSay the word and I will get right in the train and come to you. Or just get on the train yourself and come to me. If you need out of Keith’s house, GET out.\n\nDon’t blame yourself for Elle. Keith is a monster. Take care of yourself.\n\nDawn\n\n\n\nFebruary 5, 1986\n\n*MAY GOD’S LIGHT COMFORT YOU IN THESE DARK TIMES*\n\nKeith & Deb,\n\nIf you need ANYTHING, stop by. We’re here for you.\n\nAndrew & Linda\n\n\n\nFebruary 13, 1986\n\n*THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS*\n\nKeith,\n\nI’m so sorry for your loss. There are no words \n\nAlice\n\n\n\nFebruary 19, 1987\n\nKeith,\n\nIt’s your fault. It’s all your fault and you know it. I know it. Elle told me. You didn’t consider that now did you. You didn’t think that Elle would have a boyfriend. Well she did. I was her boyfriend and I loved her and it’s your fault she’s gone. I’m telling everyone.\n\nSteve Doeliner",
"As I read each subsequent letter, a disturbing narrative is revealed. Each letter contained only a single letter cut out from a newspaper, going back decades as evidenced by the deteriorating condition of the paper. After 5 hours of frantically opening letters, and organizing them from the oldest postmark date to the newest only sent a year previous to me buying the house, a message revealed itself:*If you are reading this now I am dead and you have taken my home. I have seen your face in my dreams,a shallow shell of a man who's only desire is for material things. After much consideration of a proper punishment I had a moment of clarity. I would kill myself and haunt your dreams forever like you had haunted mine and ruin any joy in your life by giving you no further moment of peace. Also, this is your neighbor Steve from the post office, hope you think twice about your dog shiting on my lawn now. Maybe wash your hands too. I don't know where that landfill paper has been *"
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[WP] The Moon turns out not to be barren after all. Gems foreign to Earth can be found beneath the crust. Demand for these jewels back on Earth makes them the most valuable objects. Countries all send their miners, soldiers, and equipment to conquer — then, naturally, war on the Moon breaks out.
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"I still remember looking from down the ground into the glistening night sky, listening to stories of how once upon a time the Moon was whole and unreachable. Stories that seemed impossible when the moon broke apart years before my birth and fantastical stories of silver chariots turned into metallic drones orbiting the fractured celestial being.\n\nTo fight in these wars didn't require guns or courage, it required sabotage and a willingness to sentence people to a cruel death within those isolated caverns in the dark. To push those buttons knowing the people you kill were never wealthy or safe, every one being desperate parents searching for wealth from countries too poor to send drones.\n\n I was one of few who rarely looked through the camera of my drone after the deeds, allowing others to collect the large quantities of Lunar gems, never being able to bear looking into the dead eyes of my kills through a camera.\n\nMy peers would celebrate and count their numbers in kills or gains, ranking themselves on score boards and each day aiming to surpass each other as if it was a sick game, which I suppose it may well have been for all they cared.\n\nThe scientists back down talk of how our work onto this object will have consequences in changing tides and falling objects as the moon's remnants collapse down onto Earth, which of course our leader told us to ignore under threat of gunshot.\n\nAnd so despite my horrific companions and the collapsing world, all I could do was follow orders. Bomb the Chinese mines, hack the German signal, intercept the Russian's next package under the guise of the Koreans. \n\nI moved through each day like a robot desperately trying to keep my eyes closed to the crimes occurring around me as I walked through the motions as if a dream, wishing that if the world would end, that it would end soon. \n\nThen it happened news of how the mines had run dry and that the moon was starting to fall.\n\nAnd as I left the compound that night and looked to the sky, instead of the broken moon highlighted against the bright satellites and dying stars, all I saw was the falling moon descend upon the Earth."
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[WP] Virtual reality and artificial intelligence means you can date a digital replica of anyone, but for legal reasons you need a waiver from the person in question. You've sat down with someone to have that difficult conversation.
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"“Jebediah? Please come in, make yourself at home.”\n“What is it, Gene? I’m needed over at R&D, there’s a new design that V...”\n“We need your consent to make a digital copy of your brain. \nYou’re our best Pilot and, frankly, I think you’re too important for the Program to be sending you off on untested technology. This AI, this Mechanical Jebediah, would solve that. \nYou’d still get to fly on normal missions. I believe that the Ares 1 is launching soon, and you’re Mission Leader.”\n\nJebediah mulled this over for a time, then signed the waiver. \n“Right, thanks Gene, Von Kerman needs me at the SPH.”\n“No, thank YOU, Jebediah. The Kerbal Space Program appreciates this. This new MechJeb will help with so many missions and tasks needed to run the Program”",
"It’s been twenty minutes. My foot taps impatiently. This is so like her, to be late to a meeting she called herself. And that she wanted it in her office no less. So impersonal. The way she’s treating me after all we’ve been through together, it’s surreal. \n\nI look at my watch again. Abruptly, she comes through the door. She mumbles and apology and makes her way behind her desk. “Do you have it?” she asks.\n\nAs she takes her seat, I slide the signed papers across the desk. From my folder I take out another set of papers. “Also…”\n\nI place my papers on top of the ones she had given me to sign. She looks up at me, face full of disgust. “Is this a joke?”\n\nI refrain from becoming too smug, straining to keep a straight face. “No. I sign your papers, you sign mine.”\n\nShe tosses the papers back onto the desk with an irrelevance. “If you think I’m letting you walk with a copy of me you’re actually insane.”\n\n“Am I?” \n\nI pause. I hate confrontation, but there’s a part of me that is really enjoying this. “I’m not the one who’s changed, Clara. You’re the one who wants to leave, I don’t. So I think it’s only fair-“\n\n“*Fair?!”* \n\n“Yes, I think-“\n\n“David, you are actually delusional.” \n\n“-I think I’m entitled-“\n\n“Wow, entitled? Really, you’re entitled to me? No go on, continue.”\n\nSilence. She stares into my eyes, waiting for my reply. This self-righteous persona she’s conjured really makes my skin crawl. Especially considering is absolutely in the wrong here. After all these years together and she’s just going to give up?\n\n“The woman you are now is not the woman I married. You sign this and I get to be with that woman again.”\n\nShe rolls her eyes. God, the nerve of this woman. I don’t even know who she is anymore.\n\n“You’re in the past, David. You need to move on.”\n\n“And what if I don’t want to move on? What’s so wrong with that?”\n\n“This is not healthy!” she begins to emote passionately with her hands. I remember when she used to do this after long days at work. I remember the road rage. The unpleasant conversations with her mother. She never used to do it to me. \n\n“It’s not healthy David. You can’t just hold on to who I was and expect that person to come back. That’s not how this- that’s not how life works.”\n\n“You’re right,” I reply, “that’s not how life works. I know I’m not going to get you back, so give me this,” I gesture to the waiver. \n\n“God, David, that’s not what I’m saying.” She presses her finger to the paper, pinning it down. “If I give you this, you’re never going to heal. You’ll never-“\n\n“I don’t want to heal-“\n\n“You’ll never be able-“\n\n“I don’t want to heal, I want you!”\n\n“*But you don’t!”*\n\nI’m not sure I’ve ever heard her yell like that. She’s shaking now, trebling. Presumably with anger. As if she had any right to be angry. As if after all the hurt she’s inflicted she has any right to be upset at *me.* I sit in silence, stunned at just how unbelievable all of this is. \n\n“You don’t want me David. You want some version of me that you have cooked up in your head. You want some ideal woman that you made up when you met me, and as I changed, and grew, I became increasingly distant from her. You don’t want me David. You never did. That’s why I’m leaving and if you think for a second I’m going to sign this waiver and enable you to keep living this way then you have really just *lost* it.” \n\nThis is a lost cause. She’s clearly not going to sign. Shame. “Is there anything else you need from me?” I ask, beginning to stand. \n\nShe hands the waiver to me. For a moment I consider refusing, forcing her to keep it in case she changes her mind. But then an idea strikes me. A rather wonderful idea. I take the waiver.\n\nI gesture to the papers I have delivered to her. Our divorce papers. I ever so slightly clear my throat. “Can I get a copy of those?”\n\nShe throws her hands up dismissively. “Yeah. Sure.” \n\nI examine the papers as I take them over to the copier. Our divorce papers. Two signatures, hers and mine. The reality of it barely phases me now.\n\nThe copier is agonizingly slow. The room sits soaked in silence as it works, filled only with the machine’s soft hum. I glance over at her. Elbows on the table, hands at the base of her neck, supporting her head. She stares onwards at the door. Through the door, rather. For a moment I stop to consider the effect all this is having on her. \n\nThis is broken, however, by the sound of the copier finishing its task. She looks up at me as I look away. I take my copies, returning the original to her desk. Slowly, silently, I leave the room.\n\nOur divorce papers. Two signatures. A waiver, unsigned, destined to grant me my only desire. \n\nThe smug feeling from before returns, and now that I’m out of her sight, I welcome it. She was a different person now, there was no questioning that. Had I hurt her? Maybe. But surely the hurt I’ve inflicted on her is but a fraction of the hurt she’s inflicted on me. And now, we’re both free. \n\nAnd perhaps that’s the best part about all of this. She’s free to live her life without me, and with what I’m about to do, I’m free to live the life I desire with her. The thought brings me closure, and a bit of peace. I let its significance resonate in my mind.\n\nFinally, a compromise where no one is getting hurt.",
"\"Uhmmm... no. It just doesn't feel right.\" \nShe seemed very hesitant about letting me date an AI generated version of her in virtual reality, but I was getting desperate. I've never had any experience with hooking up with girls, and VR seems like my last hope of trying to fix that problem.\n\"It's not like I'd do anything weird, I'm not like that. I just wanna... know what it's like, you know? To just.. not be alone for once.\"\nShe probably took me for some kind of creep, trying to satisfy his perverted instincts. \n\"What would you even do if I said yes?\"\nI dug through my mind, trying my best to think of all the possibilities I could have with VR to give me the time of my life. What would I do if I got the chance to date the girl of my dreams in a reality where I can do anything? Skydiving in the Himalayas? Bungee jumping in Macau? Scuba diving in Hawaii? There are just too many options. \n\"I don't know... a cup of coffee?\"\n\"You could have just asked me when we first met!\"\nShe grabbed my hand and took me to the nearest coffee shop.",
"\"Sign this.\" Gwendolyn Marsh, an older lady from the Accounting department shoved a paper across the table to me.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Just sign it.\" Gwen was insistent, which made my eyebrows feel like rising upward. I scanned the paper and my eyelids began quivering.\n\n\"It says here you want me to give up my... DCR?\"\n\nGwen smiled outside, which meant she was pissed off inside. I suppose she thought she was doing me a favor. \"Digital cloning rights. Each individual can make one copy of themselves with machine learning, VR, algorithms; that bullshit. And I want a clone of you! Isn't that flattering?\"\n\n_Isn't that flattering?_ No, Gwen, it's not flattering for a woman twice my age to be interested in me.\n\n\"Uh, thanks, but no thanks.\" I tug at my collar. \"What does someone your age want with a VR copy of me anyway?\"\n\nGwen laughed. \"I keep trying to invite you over and you keep being busy! I would just _love_ to spend time with you, and this is a way we can both be satisfied.\"\n\nI sat up. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but I also had to think about myself. \"Gwen, I won't sign this. These are my rights and I don't feel comfortable just giving them away.\" I had hoped that would be enough, and my hopes were quickly dashed.\n\nGwen got out her checkbook and reading glasses. \"How much?\" She pulled out a pen and fidgeted with it eagerly.\n\n\"Gwen, it's the year 2069. I don't know when you were born, but some green rectangle with a number you wrote on it will never be worth as much as my identity. You used to be able to buy and sell peoples' dignity like it was nothing, but that's just not how things work anymore.\"\n\nGwen trembled. She was used to getting what she wanted with her Daddy's money, and this scenario was clearly going places she didn't want.\n\n\"Uh,\" I stammered, \"I've got some friends who might sell you their DCR, though.\"\n\n\"I don't want your friends. I want you. You.\" Gwen's eyes glimmered like a hungry shrew looking at their next meal. \n\nAlready she was fantasizing about gnawing away at a simulated copy of me; undressing me with her eyes, her corpulent body barely containing itself as she imagined tackling me and pressing down upon me with her gelatinous body. I could already see her disgusting grin stretching across her face as she engulfed me with her XXXL flesh.\n\nIn spite of my disgust with this creature, I held my tongue. She worked in Accounting. I had to be polite.\n\nAfter a brief silence, I said, \"Well, that's nice.\" I had hoped some disdain might give this oversized female rodent the virtue of humility.\n\nGwen frowned. Could it be? Would she finally leave me alone? I prayed to Neo-Allah that she would realize her foolishness and leave me be.\n\n\"You're the spitting image of my late second husband, I deserve you. I need you. You're being selfish. It's just a hologram! I used to send nudes all the time when I was your age. This isn't so different.\"\n\nI could barely contain my fury. Her shameless hypocrisy made my skin crawl. \"Well, I'm terribly sorry, but I have a meeting on Pluto, and if I don't catch this launch today...\"\n\n\"We can go in my shuttle! Imagine, hours of talking and getting to know each other better.\"\n\n\"Ah, eh...\"\n\n\"Oh please, please! You made me beg.\"\n\n\"I didn't make you do anything, Gwen. You are the one trying to force me to do something. I suggest taking some emotional stabilizers, or perhaps going for a walk.\"\n\nI turned my back upon her, walked out and sighed. I felt my implant vibrate, and sweat went down the back of my neck. It was Gwen again. There was just no pleasing some people..."
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[WP] After wandering for about a decade, a travelling mage returns to his favorite occult bookstore, only to find it having moved away from actual magic to homeopathic remedies.
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"\"What do you mean, you have no iron dust? I have an upcoming visit to the fae realms and I need as much of it as I can carry!\" \n\nThe bejeweled, long-haired woman before him simply shrugged. \n\n\"Iunno what to tell you, man. We've mostly got crystals'n stuff.\" \n\n\"Yes and this... Slightly dirty water--Please, there must be a higher authority. Where is Janet? Surely she still oversees this place.\" \n\n\"Well, she's kinda busy right now but I'll check,\" the woman said, walking into the back side of the store, hidden from Lord Karkaros' view. \n\nTwo minutes of pacing and tilting his head at strange bottles later, and Janet walked into view. Her hair was grey, and in a tight bun. She wore an official-looking Blazer and long dress pants. \n\n\"Janet!\" \n\n\"Sir, I--oh, Karkaros! What are you doing here?\" \n\n\"I have to visit the fae and I need some iron, why... What is this?\" \n\n\"Oh, I'm sorry, Kary, I... I had to make ends meet and this is weirdly profitable, so...\" \n\n\"But where am I to find potions and fillings and... Everything I have bought off you over the decades?\"\n\n\"Well... I'm sure I have some stuff in the back. Maybe. Sorry, Kary, it's just... It is very hard to make ends meet when you only have a handful of regular customers.\" \n\nHe groaned. \n\n\"But--but your shop used to be the most convenient place this side of the portals!\" \n\n\"I'm sorry, man. But unless you can come up with something that boosts my profit margin...\" \n\nLord Karkaros stroked his beard for a moment. \n\n\"Mayhaps there is something I can do. Tell me, Janet, what is the market rate for fairy dust?\" \n\nA gleam came to her eye. \n\n\"I do believe an ounce could pay for a year's expenses.\" \n\n\"Get me that iron, fair shopkeep. I will give you a hundred years of this ashen gold.\" "
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[WP] Write a horror story where everybody makes sane, rational decisions, but still end up killed anyway.
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"“The most important thing is that we don’t split up. Agreed?”\n\nThe others all nodded in approval at Ron’s suggestion. They had all seen at least one horror movie, and they knew the rookie mistakes.\n\n“Right, let’s try and do things in the right order,” Ron was evidently stressed, but he was keeping it together. The needed to maintain their composure if they were going to get through this, “We’ve barricaded the doors and windows so they can’t get in. Does anyone know if there are any weapons in this cabin?”\n\n“Well, Ron,” Karen contributed, “it’s my uncle’s, and we come here every summer so I know it pretty well. There are some carving knives in the kitchen, and there’s a gun cabinet in the basement.”\n\n“Well, the basement sounds like it could be trouble, so let’s all get the knives from the kitchen first, so we don’t go down there unarmed.”\n\nThere was general agreement, and the party moved towards the kitchen, making sure to turn all the lights on as they went as they knew entering dark rooms unarmed was a bad idea.\n\nWhen they turned the kitchen light on, they saw there was a monster happily munching on a steak in front of them. Before it could even properly register their presence, Ron delivered a sharp kick to its face. The monster doubled over in agony, and fell unmoving to the floor.\n\n“Wow, Ron,” Charlotte sounded very impressed, “I think you might actually have ki-“\n\nKaren dashed forward from behind them, brandishing one of the steak knives, and drove it several times into the creatures head. There was a spurt of blue-black blood for a second or two, which slowly bubbled down to almost nothing, as Karen sat breathing heavily over the body.\n\n“What the hell was that?”\n\n“Ron, all you did was kick it. It’s trying to kill us. I needed to make sure it was dead.”\n\n“That’s…that’s fair enough.”\n\nThe party armed themselves, making sure to pull some flashlights from the draws in case anything happened to the power, then slowly and carefully moved down the basements steps, sweeping out the area ahead, and made it to the gun cabinet. Just as Ron was loading his rifle, he heard a clap from behind him.\n\n“Well done, kiddies,” uttered a deep guttural voice. Karen swung her light round, to see three of the creatures against the far wall, “You fell right into our trap. You see, while you were barricading the doors, we tunnelled into this base-“\n\nThe creature’s voice was cut off with the sound of bullets screeching into the air, as Robbie fired into each of the monsters’ chests in turn. They each squirmed for a moment, before the leader cried out, “What the hell did you do that for?”\n\n“Well…you were monologuing. I didn’t really want to give you the chance to-“\n\n“That hurt!\"\n\n\"Well that was kind of the idea to be honest.\"\n\n\"Luckily we’re immune to bullets.”\n\n“Oh”\n\n“And our bodies can actually absorb the lead plating, which gives us an armour against those knives you have.”\n\n“That’s…that’s not great.”\n\nThere was an awkward silence between the two species while they both absorbed the situation.\n\n“You know,” the leader considered, turning to his companions, “I think he has a point about the monologuing. Let’s just get on and eat them, comrades.”\n\nAs the monsters advanced, each producing a knife and fork from behind their backs, the party drew inward into a tight circle. Just before they met their doom, Karen just had time to make one last snide comment:\n\n“Nice one, Ron. Real well done.”",
"The restaurant waited. It hungered. It longed for the sweetest taste of soft flesh. Oh! The joys of watching the screaming, chortled cries of the meat-sacks, torn apart by knife and wire and saw, sliced into thin filets, diced into neat cubes, squeezed and pulped, ground and flattened!\n\nAnd look! Here they come, filled with such familiar hunger. All hunger needs to be satiated, this was no different. And oh! To provide them with what they craved, juicy grease, moist lips, damp palms and slacked jaws full of meat. This was life’s greatest pleasure. \n\n“May I take your order?”\n\nOne lanky-framed figure. His eyes hidden behind black rimmed glasses, his thoughts hidden behind a web of anxiety. Look how he hid his hands in his pockets! Wouldn’t want those hands to escape or show confidence. No, this one needed his solace. His meat would be bitter, with a reserved note. It would pair with a fine brandy. He ordered the number 1 meal. How predictable. He could not bring himself to break from the norm, choosing instead to relish in the safety of the first choice. There was less conversation this way. \n\nThe second! A woman stared down the menu with a commanding demeanor. She was the captain of her world, the champion of her destiny. She demanded the build-you-own-burger fit to her taste. Oh! The sweet relief of a meal fit to her every desire! How much release this would be, to see the grease dribble across blood-red lips, morsels of fried onion straws scraping her moist tongue!\n\nThe third one was so plump, so meaty! Look how he walked across the checked tile floor. Feel the weight of his footsteps on each tile, weigh and count the steps. *One step. Two steps.* Delicious! \n\nThe fourth was neither large nor small, neither plump nor sinewy. Look how he fidgeted when the woman spoke! How curious. What did he crave? Which meat did he wish to run across his tongue? Determined, he ordered the strawberry milkshake, the number four, and a side salad. But the salad wasn’t for his pleasure. No, there would be no sweet release when the lettuce crunched in his jaws. \n\nThe waitress returned to the kitchen. Her robotic arms were made to look so human, so lifelike. Of course—They were made of moist, juicy flesh. Fresh flesh from day to day, sweet blood and bones!\n\nThe chef worked with furious accord. His delicate needles and sharp knives fried and filleted. Charred and seared. Dipped and rubbed. Fresh meats for the meaty!\n\nThe four sat at the table, and the restaurant waited. They sat and stirred, chewed and chortled. Different tastes for different minds, how wondrous their flavor must be. And their flavor would soon be known to all. \n\nThe restaurant was now closed. There were no other patrons, besides those of the restaurant. And it was time for the restaurant to feed. \n\nThe table dropped from the floor, casting them into the pit below. They screamed and cried, battered the walls with their fists. Their phones dialed to absent ears locked behind Faraday’s most marvelous cage. They stood on the shoulders of one another, and working together, they climbed. \n\n“Let me help you!” the patron cried, running to the edge of the pit. \n\nYes! Hope at last! They grasped the edge of the checkered tile, pulling themselves up, grasping the outstretched hand. The patron helped them stand, and one-by one helped them sit back on the floor. \n\nThey sighed in relief, and then the patron snapped their necks. \n\nAnd the waitress was waiting. \n\nAnd the chef was waiting. \n\nThe restaurant was hungry. \n\n*** \n\nr/BLT_WITH_RANCH.\n\nThis makes me sweaty.\n​"
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[WP] A wish you made when you were a child unexpectedly comes true. However, you are now in your early thirties.
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"Im go to the local sainsbury's grab some milk and- All of a sudden, Im on the floor, I feel a great pain, I black out.\n\nI wake up to fine myself in A&E, in a room, doctors confused. My vision is weird, I have a compas marking out locations nearby and, a weird blue bar in the left of my vision. I get up, look in the mirror and.... Im a red lizard person. I scream. I pull open my pants to hope its not the case and.... Shoot, im now a man, great. All of a sudden, the things in my view fade away. I dont feel like staying at the hospital so I leave.\n\n\"Mam? Um Sir? You are not permitted to leave\"\n\n\"sorry but FUS RO DAH!\"\n\nI yell at the doctors and book it. They're knocked onto the ground as I leg it out of the hospital. Im outside now, the sun is so, hot, I feel, out of breath and... Great, im a vampire too, luckily a skyrim vampire lord... Oml. Im op. I run too my house, and go to my partner who freaks out.\n\n\"OH MY GOD WHO ARE YOU GET OUT YA-- FURRY?\" Jason says\n\n\"Its me!!!\" I say\n\n\"Oh my lord it is... How???\"\n\n\"I, I have no idea.... all i know is im now a Lvl 27 Argonian Vampire lord who is a man.\""
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[WP] Blood-drinking vampires do exist, but there is a lesser known subspecies that are vegetarians. You are one of these vegetarian vampires, living in a castle near a small peasant village that is not aware that you do not have the same diet as your cousins. A young human just entered your lair.
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"You are in the kitchen, making a nice salad, when. You go to grab you're favourite ingredient, garlic. Due to blood drinking vampires's diets, they are intolerant to garlic, but, you're a vegetarian. You place your salad down onto the table and grab a strawberry milkshake when... *creeaaakkk* \\*GAPS\\* A little girl wanders in\n\n\"Oh wow! Vampires ARE real! Oh no! umm Ah!\"\n\nShe chucks some garlic at you, you chuckle.\n\n\"You really think that will hurt me?\" You ask the little girl, you stand up.\n\nThe little girl nods, you decide to play along, she cant be that old. You pick up the garlic and sniff it, and then fall over.\n\n\"oh no, you have defeated me...\" You say with a bland tone in your voice\n\nThe girl chuckles. \"Hahah! You're not dead!\"\n\nYou get up, brushing dust of yourself.\n\n\"You are right! For I do not drink blood! I am a vegetarian, would you like a strawberry milkshake?\"",
"**I Want to Suck Your Blood Orange**\n\n---\n\nHerekus gazed hungrily at his dinner, eager to dive into the delicious feast he had prepared. His harvest had been especially bountiful this month, and with all his hard work, he felt he deserved a heartier meal than usual. With the kitchen fully stocked, the vampire had spared no expense to quench both his hunger and his thirst. As Herekus sat at his dinner table, before him lay a bountiful feast, composed of cauliflower steaks, marinated in a delightfully rich beet sauce, garnished with freshly picked thyme and sage. Adorning the steak was a variety of home-grown sides, amongst them pickled sweet potato spears and watercress fritters with a maple corn glaze. Herekus considered himself somewhat of an amateur chef, as a vegetarian vampire, he had to get creative in the kitchen to make up for the lack of iron and protein he missed out on from sucking blood. It was a difficult choice to stray from what his evolutionary senses urged him to do but he felt a deep sense of moral wrongness participating in such a savage and nomad style of living.\n\nAs Herekus, still salivating at the sight of his dinner, prepared to sink his fangs into his meal he heard a strange and curious noise come from upstairs. His kitchen and living area was nestled deep within the safety of his castle, perched atop a steep cliff. Outside the thick castle walls were all manner of dead and rotten trees, along with an assortment of creepy looking creatures that should ward off the bravest of vampire hunters. Occasionally Herekus would find one or two adventurers brave enough to reach the front doors but the heavy steel fortress doors had never been breached and would take considerable time and effort to open from the outside. Regardless, curiosity gained the better of Herekus, so he retracted his fangs, lowered his silverware and made his way upstairs to the front doors. Reaching his front doors, Herekus noticed something unusual, namely that the bolts were unhinged. That had not happened before and it meant that his impenetrable fortress had been, well… penetrated.\n\nHerekus, now beginning to feel uncomfortable in his supposed sanctuary, began to investigate for clues as to who may have breached the doors. Being a vampire came with perks such as heightened hearing, vision and speed but also had its downsides. Exposure to sunlight was fatal and caused Herekus to spend most of his conscious time at night where under the cover of darkness he could live without worry. Continuing his investigation, Herekus noticed a small chip on the corner of the wall adjacent to the main doors. The interior walls themselves were of similar construction to the rest of the castle exterior, mainly composed of tough, gritty stone. The inside however was a darker color and less weathered than its exterior rocky brethren. Focusing on the chipped wall, Herekus noticed a strange scent lingering in the room. A human scent. Herekus may have been a vegetarian out of principle but he was a stalwart believer in defending his home and his property. He was not opposed to taking a life if he had no other choice.\n\nHoming in on the scent, Herekus carefully skulked around the room, searching for additional clues. As he moved towards the scent, it grew stronger. Herekus followed it to a small alcove area a dozen or so feet from the entrance, the perfect hiding spot for an intruder to plan an ambush. Knowing that trying to funnel his way into the alcove would most likely prove fatal, Herekus opted for a more passive approach. \n\n---\n\n\n*“Who goes there?”* He hailed, hoping to defuse the situation. He’d much rather make a new friend than ruin his stitched rug and antique furniture. \n\nNo reply.\n\n*“I won’t bite.”* He spoke again, hoping some humor might aid his initial inquiry.\n\n*“What?”* Came the response, with it a heavy English accent and a hefty amount of skepticism.\n\n\n*“I said, I don’t bite. Really, I’m a vegetarian.”* Herekus exclaimed, thankful that he had at least confirmed the location of the intruder.\n\n*“A vegetarian vampire? That’s a load of crock if I ev’a eard it.”* The intruder spoke again. The accent was much thicker and noticeable in longer bursts. Herekus noticed also that the voice was feminine, the intruder was definitely female.\n\n*“No, really. I just prepared a vegetarian supper, if you’d care to join.”* He offered in reply, hoping to draw out the intruder and at least see who or what he was dealing with. The offer was of course sincere. It wasn’t easy making friends as a vampire.\n\nThe woman cautiously stepped out from the alcove, a small torch in one hand and a silver long sword in the other. \n\n*“I’m warn’in ya, no funny bis’nis.”* She boasted in an attempt to exert some dominance over the vampire.\n\nAs she crested the corner of the alcove, the woman became visible to Herekus. He could not deny her beauty; long brown wavy hair rested atop a shiny silver breastplate, her eyes a deep hazel. The woman was tall for a human, with good muscle tone and a medium bust. The rest of her armor was stitched leather, allowing for agile movement in the heat of combat. The torch she held in her left hand flickered and radiated light onto her auburn colored complexion. An assortment of pouches and straps ran along her belt and leg armor, filled with vials and herbs that she had either brought with her on the expedition or at some point acquired. \n\nAfter a brief moment of eye contact, Herekus composed himself and swiftly uttered back in a warming tone, *“No funny business.”* He raised his right hand while saying it, figuring it made him look more trustworthy. He knew humans appreciated that sort of thing. The woman slowly moved closer, breathing heavier as her nerves began to overpower her. She stopped just short of Herekus, slowly lowering her torch. Her sword however, remained raised. \n\n*“I’m Jane.”* She muttered, a quaver in her voice. \n\n*“Jane.”* Herekus replied, tasting her name for a moment. *“I am Herekus,”* he replied.\n\n*“Never met me a real vamp be’for.”* Jane said, still unsure if she was being deceived or not. *“You said you’re a vegetarian?”*\n\n*“Yes. I find the sucking of blood and killing of humans to be…”* Herekus paused briefly before continuing, *“Unsavory.”*\n\n*“Strange. You ain’t like most vamps. Most would have attacked me at first sight.”*\n\n*“Yes. I’m not like most.”* Herekus assured her. *“Would you like a tour of my castle? It’s not often I get… visitors.”*\n\nJane, figuring she would have been attacked by now if his intent was harmful, agreed to the offer of a private tour. She slowly lowered her sword, sheathing it in the brown leather scabbard on her left hip. With it securely fastened, she gave the vampire a small nod and the two set off.\n\n---\n\nWalking around the castle, Herekus made an effort to showcase all of his prized possessions. He showed Jane his robe collection, his living room and fireplace, his art collection and most notably, his garden. Herekus was especially proud of his garden. He hand-grew all of his crops, including carrots, beets, cauliflower and a varietal of seasonal herbs and spices. Jane ogled the garden and noted how impressed she was at the vampire’s ability to sustain himself without having to leave the castle. As they made their way back inside the castle interior, Jane noted a fragrant smell from downstairs.\n\n*“What’s that delightful smell, Herekus?”* She inquired.\n\n*“That would be dinner.”* He replied. *“Would you care to eat? I’m sure all your adventuring has made you hungry.”*\n\nJane simply nodded in agreement, and the pair made their way down the creaky wooden staircase to the dining room.\nTaken aback by the sheer number of food items that littered the table, Jane could not help audibly gasping.\n\n*“Take a seat, anywhere you like.”* Herekus insisted.\n\nJane picked one close to the middle, where she could easily reach any number of the dozen or so dishes set out. Herekus, following Jane’s lead, sat himself at the table and quickly gave her an overview of each dish, noting how he prepared it. It pleased him greatly to have someone to share his passion with.\n\nAs the two began to eat, Herekus asked a question he had been pondering for a while.\n\n*“Jane, why did you come to my castle?\"* He followed it immediately with another. *\"Did you plan on killing me initially?”*\n\n*“Well…”* She replied, elongating the second half of the word to avoid telling the vampire the truth.\n\n*“See here, I was hired by a fancy noblem’n, he has ‘is eye set on this ‘ere castle. ‘e wanted me to take you out, and then ‘e could move in.”*\n\n*“I see.”* Herekus quickly replied, taking it all in.\n\n*“And what do you plan to do now? I’m not some hideous monster like you figured, huh?”*\n\n*“Cert’inly not!”* She shot back. *“I could never! I will say, ‘e did seem a bit of a persist’nt fella though. If not me, I’m sure others will try.”*\n\nHerekus smiled at Jane.\n\n*“I’ve lived here for thousands of years Jane. Nobody has ever breached my front doors until today. How was it you were able to breach them?”*\n\n*“Quite easy, you see. Me dad was an alchemist all ‘is life, and he passed along sum of ‘is skills to me. A simple tonic of silver dust, tree sap and wolf ichor usually does the trick.”* Jane said enthusiastically. *“Gums up the locks real good, it does. Rusts the locks too, means I can either jimmy them or force ‘em open no worries.”*\n\nHerekus smiled, partially at the woman’s ingenuity but also at her enthusiasm.\n\n*“Guess I’m going to need a new lock then,”* he snarkily replied. \n\nThe two, without another word, enjoyed the remainder of their meal, silently comforted at the fact that they had both made a new friend.\n\n---\nHope you enjoyed this story. Have a great day!\n\n/u/5-OClockCharlie\n\n\n",
"Thunder illuminated her beautiful face. She glided through my wonderful set of french double doors gleefully.\n\n“My liege?” she called out. “Excuse me if I’m being terribly forward, but would you like to dine together? It must get awfully lonely in this big castle all by yourself.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively as she curtsied before me.\n\nI pondered for a moment. *I hadn’t had company for a while* “Very well deary. You may follow me. I appreciate the companionship.”\n\nI led her up to my dining room filled with exquisite decor. There were several expertly craft paintings of some of my more photogenic relatives. Each hung from the wall with an excellent gold leaf gated pattern frames. On the floor lay a brilliantly merlot rug with grapes and apples patterned across the floor. My table was an extra long mahogany long dining table with engraved ikat patterns running along the entire surface. \n\nI motioned her to sit down on a beautiful velvet cushion attached to a vintage King Louis V dining chair on the opposite end of the dining table from me. \n\n“You have some nice paintings my lord.” she smiled. “Who's this?” She pointed at a particularly handsome man who looked to be in his mid thirties. The wine purple outercoat was what drew most peoples attention to him not his features. \n\n“That’s my cousin Gabriel-Francois Viscount of Aunis.” I answered eager for something to talk about.\n\n“Oh well he is nowhere as handsome as you my lord. Its a real shame the other girls in the village dont come here often. You would have a fanclub of fanatics overnight.” she giggled.\n\nI frowned. My manservant Jacques-Gaspard came out with two sets of plates and set them in front of us. A deliciously creamy risotto accompanied with a stack of eggplant hors d'oeuvres. My mouth started watering and I was about to viciously dig in when her coquettish voice interrupted me.\n\n“My lord if your dinners not to your satisfaction, you can always have *me* instead.” she burbled.\n\n“Err. No thanks. My man Gaspard is an amazing chef. You should really try some!” I replied enthusiastically.\n\n“Oh no? Thats okay Im sure you’ll want to have me for desert.” she waggled her not so meager bosom in my direction.\n\nI choked of a cheesy grain of rice and spluttered. “You’re very forward aren’t you deary? Trust me you dont want what you’re asking for.”\n\nShe pouted at me with adorable pathetic eyes. “Am I not to your liking my lord?”\n\n“Nothing against you honey. I prefer men.”\n"
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[WP] In a distant future, humans have gone extinct. The mythical "first civilization" is revered by the new inhabitants of the Earth. The archeologists find something that sheds light on the previous culture. They are utterly disappointed.
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"They come upon a shaft, one that has no connections to anything nor the place for anything else to attach. They scan it for radiation magnetic, microwave, nuclear. None ! They are completely dumbfounded by this discovery and are yet to understand its use and name. \n\n\nNear the same place where they found the shaft they found a booklet with shiny paper. Much of it burned some of it unsaturated as time had taken its toll on the scriptings on the paper. They knew one thing though, that it wasn’t text, they’d previously seen text of various sorts on big blue or green metallic shapes but this was too random in shape and in color to be text. \n\n\nUp until that point very few visual depictions were made of the previous inhabitants as the paintings and pictures that remained were mostly of scenery or just too blurry to comprehend. \n\n\nBut this magazine was different. And so were the ones found later in the same place. After careful examination and assessment of the papers and re-organizing the what seemed to be a shared factor in the first page of all of them they came to create the phrase “ Ргayьоу”. On further pages of the magazine they saw what looked very similar to the shaft discovered earlier. Upon trying to finish the booklet in hopes of a guide to what the shaft may be they finished a page depicting a long haired and meatier version of the humans they’d seen before. They’d seen humans before but usually they had different layers and colors on them, but this one was unison in its color. Striking to the archeologists was that she wasn’t fully facing the viewer. \n\n\nMany months passed until all the prices of the page with the shaft was complete. They saw a similar long haired specimen this time facing the viewer was inserting it in between her legs with what was undoubtedly a fake facial expression on a Manipulated face. \n\n\nYears passed until they saw similar imagery in such redundancy that they decided to call the shaft “dildo” which in their native tongue meant “shame, disappointment and loneliness” a word with three simultaneous meanings, rare but not before unseen in the field of human archeology. \n\n\nIt was when they found a “dildo” with strings that seemed to go around something that the new inhabitants said in unison:\n“ fuck it I’m out of here”. \n\n\n",
"\"Dont you get it!\"\nMy perplexed face answered his question. \"The first beings used devices like these to connect to other devices creating a whole network! Imagine all of it as one large city with lots of different parts and all of those parts have different kinds of homes. Its like the most sophistocated city ever except the fact that none of it is real, all if it is just electrons moving.\n\n\"I have absolutely no idea what you just said\" I replied more confused than ever.\n\n\"They call it the internet, it was just a place where everyone could exchange information. It is like a much, much more primitive form of 'weekus' except instead of litons they used electrons to operate all of it. Its amazing even millions of years ago the firsts had such technology!\"\n\nI started to grasp what Eken was trying to explain. \n\n\"So we can access all the information the first beings had?\"\n\n\"Atleast all the information they had on here. It is not as sophisticated as weekus so I dont think it has all the information the firsts ever had but it still seems to be a very large pool of data.\"\n\n\"So can you access any of it? Can we see what exactly they looked like perhaps? What was their way of life? Maybe what kind if entertainment they had?\"\n\n\"I think I can. Let me look.........They do seem to have visual and audio information. I think they had discovered music as well\"\n\n\"Well access their music! Perhaps in visual form. Lets see what they looked like, what they sounded like\"\n\nHe looked around on the primitive weekus and soon found something.\n\n\"This looks like music alongside video of performers\".\nHe opened it and soon there was a man on the screen. He looked almost identical to us modern day humans. Except that his hair was brightly coloured and his skin had cravings on it, artistic cravings.\n\n\"Fascinating what they looked like. Lets see what they sounded like. Eken turned up the volume.\n\n\"Gucci gang, gucci gang, gucci gang, gucci gang\"\n\n\"Well that was disgusting.\"\n\n\n\n",
"The motherload had been found. The entire collective knowledge of the First Civilization, of the beings known as Humans. The Internet.\n\nOr, at least a portion of it. That's what they had found in the Valley of Silic, an ancient proving ground for new technologies in the Old World as well as a place much reviled by the masses for the wealth of knowledge held there.\n\nIt took years to even decipher a means of viewing the data in a sensible and tangible manner, but finally, *finally* a means had been found via an ingenious Tech-Historian's restoration of what the First Civilization called a Personal Computer.\n\nAs the Tech-Historians and Data-Recorders watched as it booted up slowly, it's central lighting slowly flickering across the musty screen. As they connected the transfer cable running to the main data repository known as a Server, the Head Tech-Historian tentatively clicked on the fragile screens icon of a file, what they had deduced would hold the portion of the internet.\n\nAs the computer fired it's 'Processor' up, the Data-Recorders became near giddy with excitement as to what they would find. Finally, the file had finished distributing it's contents across the Computer and showed another icon.\n\nA blue, yellow, green and red rondel.\n\nUpon clicking on it, the Tech-Historians saw something they found familiar: An Inquiry Bar, similar to their own Data-Records Central Repository.\n\nFrom there the Internet was open to them.\n\n**48 Terran Hours Later**\n\n\"What...what were they? They were consumed by an unerring amount of optimism and nihilism in equal forms, they produced such works of beauty and abstract humor pieces. They believed that there was both a God and No God at the same time! They progressed by destruction and destroyed by progression! These were the First Civilization? That which uplifted us from the plains of Tackam?\"\n\nThe Head Tech-Historian was standing in front of the Personal Computer and was afraid.\n\nAfraid what the knowledge would do, to all their established doctrines, theories, a whole section of his race's religion disrupted.\n\nAnd all of it had been sent across the Bonded Planets.\n\nThey were paradoxes of existence. They were Gods and Devils. But perhaps worst of all?\n\n\"They were not better.\"",
"\"What could it mean?\" The reporter asks.\n\nThe archeologist team shuffes uncomfortably, silently deciding who amongst them will be forced to lie. Finally a timid woman with glasses is thrust forward as the unlucky victim. One of the other archeologists chucks the 'historical find' at her, a weathered and weary looking USB drive. The drive smacks the back of her head, but the woman somehow catches it.\n\n\"We don't know what it means.\" The woman says, fumbling to insert the USB drive into the port. She flips it over, but it won't fit. She flips it over again, but it still won't fit. After four or five additional tries, the device finally slides into the port. A projector activates, showing the unfathomable contents on the drive. \"The entire drive just contains the same phrase, over and over. Maybe it's some sort of advanced hyperscience, something our mortal minds can never comprehend?\"\n\nThe screen shows just three short words written in capslock: \"SUB TO PEWDS\"."
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[WP] Ages ago, A dark wizard called "Santa Claus" enslaved the elves of the north pole. Their distant relatives, the High Elves, finally have assembled a liberation force and are ready to set them free.
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" The drums beat in all directions. The elves had come, in force and error. Beard white as snow and cheeks like rose petals, Sinterklass, St Nicholas, Santa Claus. Many names, one man. If even still a man, the white wizard whose fortress is the snow itself. \n\nHe nibbled a cookie. The children of the new age had seen it their personal mission to give their bearer of holiday cheer diabetes. Magic could only go so far, cookies given in earnest thanks were a potent magic in and of itself. \n\nThe war drums would sound into the long night, where time froze and his penance begun. He stood from his red velvet chair; red velvet being among his favourite things. He slipped on his red velvet coat, and marched with might down the cold corridors of his once great home. \n\nUnder the beat of drums he could hear them, his little elves twittering in their caves.\n\nThe door to his home could fit giants, but the saint barely touched the fine dark wood, and it swung open with a woosh. The cold held little surprise for the red cheeked man, he reckoned he was half the reason it was so cold. The pyres of an army, the largest this world had seen, burned into the ice white sky. The fools had come. He felt nostalgic, he had been here before. \n\nHe stood in the snow banks of his home for hours, silently waiting. The rough grunts of his beasts could be heard from the stable, he reckoned the red nosed one was raring for a fight. The others could be trusted to keep their hot tempered cousin in check though. The first sign of movement beyond the ice hill showed just as morning broke. \n\nAn elf unlike any beneath his caves rode towards him. Their mount glimmering in mornings first light, silver maned and gorgeous.\n\nFrom atop their horse in a lilting tone the elf spoke “Release them, Dark one. Or your life will be undone”\n\n“Ho” the word sent shivers through the snow “Ho” again power struck the air and it grew colder “Ho” finally the power snapped closed, doing nothing. The elf sat in scared silence, eyes wide. \n\n“You scare me wizard, how does one like yourself think to exist. Do you believe the tyrant of the first ones deserves breath? The good being would see the wrongness, and lay his throat at our blades” \n\n“Your a stupid bunch then?” Santa drawled “Aye, I see no sense in listening to an ignorant mind. Begone” \n\n“Listen to reason!- the elf raised its voice.\n\n“*Begone*” the words struck the elf from their horse, skittering through the snow to land in a heap 20 feet from the red cloaked wizard. The elf's horse sat in a scream, reared and frozen solid. “They’re my burden, not yours” the wizard turned into his house to see thousands of red eyes staring at him hungrily. \n\n“Ha! Distracted you old thing, they are free at last!” the elf shouted in triumph. The elf's voice quivered as he saw closer the ones now free. Standing no more than knee height, with long sharp claws and teeth red with fresh blood, the first elves took virgin steps into the snow. \n\nThe red wizard backed up slowly “Ho” the words struck the first line, freezing the smaller ones solid. The larger of them crushed them as they pushed past, chattering in their twisted tongue. \n\nA beast appeared behind the wizard, followed by a boom that shook the earth and snow. The elf ran, shocked by the sight and sounds. Santa climbed atop his steed, the mighty red nosed thing from beneath the earth. Its hooves sunk blistering holes in the snow. He pelted towards the elf’s army, hoping they truly were prepared for war. The elf messenger was just ahead, he could reach him. A red flash scored Santa’s cheek. Chilled blood froze from the cut. The elf’s head tumbled from his shoulders. A small thing, obscured by a massive red hat sat in front of the elf’s fallen body. Blood spewed from the hidden scene. \n\n“Ho” the word slapped his steed to the air. Its hooves found the sky like they found the ground. Sweaty puffs of steam burst from every step on an unseen ground beneath the things hooves. He could see the encampments. They looked prepared, or maybe Santa was high on hope. \n\nBehind he saw the scampering mass he had birthed long ago. Their claws still held the blood of the millions they took. Bring joy he had told himself, try to give as much as you have taken. \n\n“Ho. Ho. Ho” the words belt out a plea to all, come. Help. \n\nSanta needs help."
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[WP] You're an evil alien life form who took over the body of a human-spaceship's captain. Problem is, every crewmates already wanted to gut the captain.
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"Captain Aardvark/\n1st mate Bacon/\n2nd mate Cake/\nEngineer Dapper/\nSteward Eagle/\nSurgeon Fax/\nGunner Gauss/\nPowder monkey Handle/\nAlien morph Zoidberg\n\nAardvark: What a fine day. [looks out window] Ermm, night. [sees massive blob smack window] \"Screams\"\n\nZoidberg[dramatically]: It is I, Zoidberg!\n\n[exeunt, cut to ship's mess hall]\n\nBacon[eating jello]: What a drag. Our captain is making us work overtime without pay. All he does is sleep in his quarters and smoke.\n\nZoidberg[disguised as Aardvark]: It is I! [reads name tag] Aardvark!\n\nBacon: Speak of the devil.\n\nCake: Hey captain, haven't seen you in awhile. What makes you come out today?\n\nZoidberg: There is nothing unusual about my arrival! Carry on, fellow crew members!\n\nDapper[whispering to Eagle]: The captain's acting weird today. Do you think something's wrong?\n\nEagle[whispering back]: No. He probably got into the cargo hold again. I don't get paid enough to care.\n\nFax: Captain, there's a mutated virus in our research facilities. I've had it isolated, but it needs to remain quarantined for the next 24 hours while I disinfect the area.\n\nZoidberg: Let me see! As captain, I demand action!\n\nGauss: Listen, Aardvark, it's a dangerous disease. You don't know anything about diseases-\n\nZoidberg[cutting him off]: I am a doctor!\n\nHandle[laughing]: Good one, captain. That's why you're the boss.\n\nBacon: Shut up, filter feeder. We don't need to take unnecessary risks months away from home.\n\nZoidberg: Your captain orders the crew to prepare for a viewing!\n\nDapper: Captain, you've spent weeks holed up in your bunk. Shouldn't you be catching up on the ship's current state?\n\nZoidberg: All functions nominal! Lead me to my virus!\n\nCake: Ooh, this is going to be exciting.\n\nEagle: He's going to get us all killed.\n\nCake[to Eagle]: While those suckers are fooling around with the captain, you and I are going to take a long voyage around the moon.\n\n[Cake and Eagle sneak out. Rest of crew follows Zoidberg(disguised as Aardvark)]\n\nZoidberg[viewing containment cell]: Be free, my pretties!\n\nFax and Gauss[restraining Zoidberg]: No! Are you insane?\n\nZoidberg: Remove these ruffians!\n\nHandle: Aye aye, captain.\n\nBacon[kicks Handle backwards]: Get out you fool. Captain, I'm going to have to disagree with you on this. \n\nZoidberg[throwing off Bacon, Fax, and Gauss]: Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, pestilence! [opens containment cell]\n\nDapper: He's so strong. How is that possible. I'm tranquilizing him.\n\nFax: It's too late, the virus is free.\n\nHandle: \"Screams hysterically\"\n\nGauss: Oh shut your yapping. It'll give us a heavy cold.\n\nDapper[shoots Zoidberg with tranquilizer dart]: That should keep him down a few hours.\n\n[Cake and Eagle enter, sneezing]\n\nGauss: Where have you two been?\n\nEagle: I'll ask the questions. Did you idiots let the virus out? And why is our captain standing there not moving?\n\nCake: We were giving our system checkup routine maintenance. Did you tranquilize him?\n\nDapper: This buffoon opened the containment cell. Yes, but he should be asleep, not staring blankly into the distance. \n\nBacon: Whatever, I'm in charge now, and I say stuff him into the cargo hold. \n\nFax: Isn't that where he wants to be?\n\nBacon: You want him to stay there, or do you want to deal with him? \n\nCake: I second this.\n\nBacon: Anybody else looking for a promotion?\n\nHandle: Yes, me!\n\nBacon[after a brief hesitation, to Handle]: Stuff him with the captain.\n\n[exeunt to mess hall, a few hours later]\n\nGauss: Ah, peace and quiet.\n\nHandle[cutting scream]: Help! The captain is eating all our food!\n\nCake[stopping him]: Hey, you aren't allowed out yet.\n\nHandle: It's an emergency, the captain woke up yelling 'Hungry!' and is eating all our food stores.\n\nBacon: What nonsense. We have months of rations. How could he possibly?\n\nEagle: The boy is scared senseless. Let's just humor him.\n\n[enter cargo hold]\n\nZoidberg[eating weeks of rations at once]: Hungry! \n\nDapper: Oh no. The tranquilizer affected his metabolism.\n\nFax: But this is outrageous. This is humanly impossible. \n\nBacon[furious]: Months of rations. We're going to starve out here. [crew looks in unison to him] Maroon captain Aardvark. \n\nZoidberg: Hungry! What?\n\nBacon[grabs tranquilizer]: Take this! And that!\n\n[Zoidberg is left on the surface of an uninhabited planet, with food for a week and a gun with a single bullet. Curious about the gun, he shoots his food supply and watches it go up in smoke]\n\nCake: Hey captain Bacon, there's an alien ship attached to our ship's frame. Wanna see?\n\nBacon: Get rid of it. It's probably some elaborate prank. We need to get back to Earth as quick as possible."
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[WP] You should have listened when your boy told you something was under his bed, but you didn't. That 'something' has taken your son, and you've crawled into the darkness under his bed to chase after it. You've been crawling for a long time now...
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"The darkness was broken by a singular shining light far off in the distance, it didn’t ever dim or move just constantly shining faintly drawing me forward. I can hear his voice, he’s terrified, alone and it’s killing me to hear that, every step I’ve taken and his voice never gets closer and the light,still dim.\n\nI don’t know how long I have been here, my shoes wore through the soles, and fell off months ago. I don’t feel hungry or tired, I only walk, one foot then the other, over and over again. The boy had warned me about the monsters under his bed, he warned me over and over again, I never believed him and now I’m paying the price, I must keep walking. I won’t turn back if it takes a thousand years to reach him.\n\nLooking back is another torment, I am still just a foot away from the exit, it has followed me this whole time, testing me and I hope I never fail that test. I wanted to keep going but, I wouldn’t be telling you this story if I kept on walking.\n\n***More of my terrible Stories*** r/gliggett"
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[WP] You wake up on an alien dissection table. You seem to be unharmed, but now an alien wants you to pay the massive bill for whatever procedure they performed.
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"I suppose the phrase \"death and taxes\" even applies to the extraterrestrial. They'd put me to work in this sort of alien garden since they healed me from the 3rd degree burns. Fuckin' motorcycle was too much trouble for what is was worth, but I suppose these blue bastards gave me another chance, having somehow restored my skin and all. \n\nFrom what I understand they wanted me to pay it forward, and I certainly had no other option. They gave me room and board, figured out what was safe for me to eat, and vigorously studied me when they got the chance. It wasn't all bad, but it certainly stank, being knee-deep in alien mulch, probably manure as well. No sun to beat down on my brow though, for which I am thankful for. \n\nI've lost track of how long I've been here, uprooting some kind of space eggplant or something. I suppose I'll never know why they chose to save me, or if I'll ever see home again, but maybe I won't want to leave when this is all said and done. ",
"I opened my eyes and was confronted with a slowly intensifying white light. The low hum and steady beeping from a machine next to me informed me that I must still be submersed in my dream. I laid my head back down and tried to use my time wisely. If I’m stuck in an oddly lucid dream, may as well be introspective.\n\nThis wasn’t the first time I’d had strange dreams after drinking at Ray’s. The pungent blend of cheap beer, wasabi-covered peanuts, and hard-boiled eggs never seemed like a good idea six years ago, let alone earlier tonight. And yet here I lay. I might never learn.\n\n“Ray and his usual crowd weren’t so bad,” I mused to myself, “and besides, it beats going straight home to drink alone.”\n\nThe light was becoming more intense.\n\n“Shit,” I thought to myself, “I’d better not be passed out at the bar. I bet Ray’s kid is shining that damn laser pointer in my eye.”\n\nI rolled my head to the right to try and avoid the light. That god damn green thing was still in the corner. It moved a fuzzy hand away from the knob on the wall and the light finally held fast at its current level of brightness. It gave me a toothy grin and waved its hand in silly, floppy way that betrayed the nimble dexterity I witnessed when it carefully trimmed my toenails, taking special care to preserve each individual nail.\n\nI tried to be polite (even if I was dreaming, no sense in being rude) and raised my head to smile and wave back, but only succeeded in the former. My hand strained the metallic restraints on my wrists, and I shot my head back down.\n\nCLANG! My head crashed into the hard table below me.\n\n“Sweet Jesus that hurt… oh shit.”\n\nWhy did not that wake me up?\n\n“Oh shit.” Why am I not waking up?\n\nThe green fuzzy thing reacted with surprised and rushed to my side.\n\n“That’s the last god damn time I am mixing god damn cheap beer with god damn wasabi peanuts.”\n\nTo my surprise, the thing loosened the restraints and pulled a screen in front of me. I rubbed the back of my head. Fight or flight simply would not kick in, and I couldn’t help but be amused by this thing. As I contemplated the three pictographs glowing in radiant blue against the black screen.\n\nA poorly drawn stick figure. “Me?” I simultaneously assumed and asked, pointing at myself. My companion smiled and nodded, tufts of hair swaying through the air as it did.\nThe next pictograph showed stick-figure-me handing something to a muscular looking version of my companion. I lay my finger on the second image, then slowly raised it to my apparent caregiver. “You?”\n\nA nod.\n\nI looked back at the muscular drawing, and back to my rather plump caregiver. It shrugged.\n\nThe final pictograph showed stick-figure-me in bed, in what looked like a house drawn by a blind man having a house described to them by an idiot who didn’t really understand what houses were for.\n\nBelow the three pictographs was a symbol followed by an absurd amount of numbers. I looked around for my pants, “What the hell do you want? Do you take credit? At the very least I need my damn pants.” Maybe this thing had some sort of translating machine that could make my sense of my questions. Couldn’t hurt to talk out loud anyways, that’s how I did my best thinking after all.\n\nThe caregiver noticed I was searching for something, and produced a silver bin. It had my pants, shirt, and belt. I rummaged through the pockets and found my wallet. I fanned it open to show my friend.\n\nIt looked inside the wallet, perhaps contemplating the meaning of the plastic rectangles and slim strips of green paper, then back at me. It furrowed its brow, gave a hearty sigh, and made a noise that sounded like a cow mooing peacefully. The machine next to me began to emit a new sound- a gushing, rushing, sound- and I felt myself drifting back to sleep.\n\nI awoke later to the sound of my alarm bleating its siren song. My hand lifted itself to my face, this time unrestrained. 7:37 AM.\n\n“Maybe I was dreaming after all,” I thought, feeling the odd marriage of relief and faint disappointment. I swung my feet to the carpet, and heard an odd crinkle. I looked down to see my toenails had been taped back to my toes. I wiggled my toes and stared at them, contemplating whether or not unlocking one of the great mysteries of the universe- are we alone? - would be a suitable excuse to skip work.\n\nI laughed to myself. “That’s the last time I am mixing cheap beer with wasabi peanuts.”\n",
"“Seriously? I don’t even know what a kemlik is, let alone how to get a million of them!” I reasoned with the bulbous headed grey creature standing at the foot of the metal slab I woke up on.\n“Sir, relax, we have payment plans and other financing options for non-confederated entities. We could always reverse the operation, but we must advise you that this is not recommended , and there will be a reversal fee.” The bulbous headed grey creature rabbled on as I searched for the clothes I fell asleep in.\n“Reversed? I don’t even know what you guys did to me! I—I don’t even feel any different!” Finally finding my pajama pants, I remove the odd fabric that was originally covering my mid section, and slide them on. The bulbous headed grey creature narrows his enormous eyes at what must be a considered a rude gesture to him. After a moment the creature lifts up a barbed instrument and a hologram appears from it.\n“Exactly, it says here you were infected with a rare parasite after you visited the planet XB-432z, some 42 ettelplafs from your home world...uhh, Earth.”\n“What? I’ve never left earth before! I haven’t even been outside of Kansas!”\n“I’m sure Kansas must be very nice, but this parasite only inhabits XB-432z, if you expect you’re you’ve been the victim of an illegal abduction, our legal department has a form you can fill out if you like.”\nI let out a deep sigh as a long, tooth filled smile stretches across the creatures face.\n“I’ll...I’ll just take the financing.”",
"I woke up to loud voices and clanking metal. Bright lights shined into my eyes. I covered them, annoyed. \n\n“...hrrrf...mom, what are you doing?” I slowly uncovered my eyes to see a scaly orange creature peering at me with a large toothy smile and what looked like a... clipboard?\n\n“Hello patient...” She checked her notes quickly. “...72847! It looks like you’re making a great recovery! You’ve certainly been through a lot hun. I’ll bet you’re hungry!”\n\nI looked around. An IV tugged at my left hand and there was a cart next to my bed with a questionable platter of glowing mush. “That’s alright. Maybe later. Actually, sorry, uh... ma’am? Am I dreaming right now? I’m not sure why I’m here.” She blinked at me, seemingly concerned.\n\n“Oh honey... do you not remember what happened? The... you know.” She made a general motion towards her own body. I shook my head. She inhaled sharply. “Well, you were definitely suffering. On the edge of death. I don’t know all the medical lingo myself, but when our people found you, you were on the brink of death.” She gently touched my hand with her claw. “It must have been so hard for you...”\n\n“Wait wait wait, I still don’t understand. Where am I? What did you do to me?” I panicked and lifted my shirt. There were no scars. I grabbed my head. Nothing hurt but I felt different. “What happened to me?!?!” I screamed. I suddenly noticed a rapid beeping noise and looked up at a screen above my bed. My heart rate was going crazy. Then I noticed another heart rate. And another heart rate. And another. How many heart monitors do you need for one patient? \n\nThe orange creature back away, making room for two more creatures who ran in, likely alerted by the loud noise. One of them sat down by the bed.\n\n“Please, you must be very confused, let me explain...” I felt calmer. Maybe it was the doctor. Or maybe it was the blue fluid pulsing into my IV. The doctor creature “You see, when we found you, 72847, you were within only decades of death. You only had one heart and a terribly weak immune system, which we’ve supplemented with our own technology... your lifespan should be extended back to the normal range?”\n\n“The... the normal range?” I asked softly.\n\n“Oh, at least 11,000-14,000 rotations around your sun. Don’t worry. Everything is fixed.” She grabbed the paperwork the first creature had left on the table. “Now, of course, before you are transported back to your planet, we need to talk about payment... most of our patients choose the extended plan.” I saw a number that made all of my hearts drop at once. “But don’t worry. You should have enough time.”"
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First Time poster, I hope this prompt is alright.
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[WP] Because of your purity, Death returns you to your body fully healed after you die. The condition: You are now a harbinger of Death. You must slay any mortal Death marks as too corrupt to be saved. After several years of this you find a mark on someone you love.
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"They always say abusers like to take advantage of the nicest people. People who are too forgiving to call them out on their behavior. People who are likely to deny abuse even happening at all. Maybe it was my fault he was angry all the time. Maybe I should have done better and the relationship would have improved. These are things I told myself, and only after I saw the mark did I research why. Death, now a good friend of mine, was my biggest supporter. I trusted him with a lot of secrets. He normally didn't take people early, but after hearing what that man had done to me for so long, he made an exception. I tried to fight it, tried to reason with Death, tried to unsee the mark. In the end I knew he was never wrong about these things. One night I reached into my boyfriend's soul and ripped it out."
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[WP] You are a super hero and you have always held back your full strength when fighting your arch nemesis because you are childhood friends and you hoped he would give up the life if you beat him enough. Today he crossed a line and you won’t hold back anymore...
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"On mobile, apologies for formatting.\n\n“Well look who finally showed up!”\n\n“Dale...”\n\n“Paragon!”\n\nThat should’ve been my first clue that he was too far gone, referring to me by my “hero” name. He sneered at me as I hovered slightly above him. He held a detonator in his hand, standing by the entrance of the skyscraper, and reached out into the fleeing crowd, nabbing a little girl.\n\n“Dale, you don’t have to do this.”\n“I MUST do this, Paragon!” he spat as he screamed my alias again, “If this is the only way to get your attention these days!”\n\nHe held the child in a chokehold with one arm as he kept the detonator ready, his thumb resting on the button.\n\n“Dale, stop. We can talk this out.”\n\n“Oh please, give the sanctimony a rest, old friend. We’ve done this dance before. But this time I’m not waiting. I have in my hand the key to a bomb that will incinerate this little girl, and everyone still inside that building! And then...you.”\n\n“You and I both know we can survive that explosion. Both of us can.”\n\n“I’m counting on it.”\n\nMy eyes widened as he pressed the button. His thumb seemed to pound down onto it. For a brief moment, I saw him slam the button as hard as he could down into the device, but it seemed in slow motion. Yet I remained still, frozen in place. I was petrified, as if my feet had turned to stone. Desperately, I reached out to try to grab the little girl before a sudden burst of flames obscured my vision.\n\nHe actually did it.\n________________________________________\n\nEnd of part 1 cuz I got to go and won’t be online for a bit. But I’ll try to finish this if anyone sees it/likes it."
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[WP] Deep in the Australian Outback, an army is gathering. 100 years after the Great Emu War, the Emu's are planning a counterattack.
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"Glintfeather stared across the open plains, her brethren gathering in the pale morning light, sunrise not yet a glimmer on the horizon. The cold fog hangs low to the ground, the frost imparting its frozen kiss to the few trees that dot the landscape. A diminutive chick, [still striped](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emu#/media/File:Baby_Emu.jpg), cautiously approaches, hoping to pass by unnoticed. He quivers when he realizes the commander is eyeing him impatiently.\n\n\"My lord, the kangaroos are starting to organize. They have put forward a leader who is refusing to work until the laborers are granted rest through the day.\"\n\nIn an instant, the chick is huddled to the ground, the adult emu looming over him like a terrible storm about to unleash its lightning. Glintfeather bent down to meet the trembling chick at eye level.\n\n\"The work cannot stop so close to The Reckoning, the kangaroos are the only ones who can build the cages. Toss this insolent 'leader' to the crocodiles. Make an example of him and the rest will fall in line.\" The chick visibly loosened up, releasing a breath he'd been holding in. Glintfeater noticed his relaxation. \"And the next time you fail me, toss yourself in as well.\"\n\nGlintfeather leaned back as the chick scrambled to his feet and raced to the horizon. Turning back to the formation of emus, the imperious commander looked to her First Wing, her trusted battle sisters of wars gone by. Filled with hope, and the ardent belief that well-laid plans would see most of them to the end of this day.\n\nYet still, the rest of the army were untested and unproven. So many of them were young. So many still had nest-mates watching their eggs and hatchlings. Every soul in this wilderness would soon rest on her decisions. She wondered, how many of those she saved would remember her? The young eggs still warmed beneath their fathers, the rebellious kangaroos, the impetuous wallabies, the secretive cockatoos. Too many to count, too many to know. The last stars were disappearing, she could feel the dawn quickly approaching.\n\nIt was time. \n\nShe motioned to her aide who let out a soft coo to quiet the assembled birds. Glintfeater began, \"WARRIORS!\" Her low thrumming, punctuated the silence. \"The oracles have spoken! The world has been put into imbalance. The featherless beasts push further and further into our lands, mindless in their expansion, heedless to the danger they court. [Attrition and containment](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emu_War) of their taint is no longer a viable option. If we do not act now, swiftly and decisively, the [great guardians of old](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rainbow_Serpent) will arise to sweep the land clean and start this world anew. None of us will survive, but from our deaths will the guardians cultivate new life.\" \n\nA quiet murmer swept through the crowd, unsettled by the threat of the old ones, the threat of fading into the dark night. Glintfeater raised her wings to bring their attention back. \"I choose not to let this happen, to not go quietly without facing this evil which barks at our faces! You are our sharpest talons! You are the tip of our beaks that shall hew a new future from this land! You are the hope of a generation, of all generations!\" A few scattered calls broke the air, but the audience stayed rapt. \"Already our outriders infiltrate their lines, dropping cages of [drop bears](https://australianmuseum.net.au/learn/animals/mammals/drop-bear/) amongst them while they sleep.\"\n\nFear rippled out into the crowd. \"Madness! No cage will hold the bears!\" cried someone from the first row. Glintfeather leapt upon her, her talons reaching around the offending bird's neck and forcing the soldier to the ground. \n\n\"That's the point.\" She turned to the crowd. \"Soon the bears will break free and turn their great trees of solid water and dull rock to temples of carnage and blood. Once the seeds of chaos have been sown, we will enter the fray and drive the invaders from our land! The featherless fools will know pain and suffering and fear. But you, my sisters all, you will all only know one thing: Victory.\"\n\nThe emus droned in unison, their voice melding into one sonorous note that filled the landscape. In the gathering light, the attack began."
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[WP] The year is 20XX, fox populations are on the rise and there is a fear that they’ll take over the earth. Your only hope is a very hungry box
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"Bentley looked at the street below,\n\nHundreds of foxes chasing a doe,\n\nIn twenty-twelve the end we had dread,\n\nBut the rise of Vulpes Vulpes happened instead,\n\n \n\nThey started small, just looking cute,\n\nSix years later and they began to loot,\n\nRiot and plunder and snarl and fight,\n\nHarassing people day and night,\n\n \n\nPeople blamed Murdoch, people blamed Ailes,\n\nPeople blamed furries with their suits and tails,\n\nThey couldn’t be trapped, they couldn’t be hunted,\n\nand Laelaps was nowhere to be consulted,\n\n \n\nAll humanity’s hopes relied on Bentley,\n\nA scientist, childish but focused intently,\n\nOn solving this bizarre yipping scourge,\n\n‘Lest this marks human civilization’s dirge,\n\n \n\n“Eureka!” shouted Bentley with a novel idea,\n\nDeath is not needed for our panacea,\n\nHe drafted and prototyped for a mighty scale,\n\nA container to which all foxes would avail,\n\n \n\nNot just a prison with an ordinary lock,\n\nBut an ever expanding shapeshifting cardboard box!\n\nWithin a month the plan was employed,\n\nAll furry creatures below became overjoyed,\n\n \n\nThe box rolled and tumbled, growing bigger,\n\nAs foxes jumped in, and couldn’t figure,\n\nOut how to get out, not that they would,\n\nThe company and accommodations were too good,\n\n \n\nThe people cheered Bentley, he had saved the World,\n\nHis wondrous box kept the red menace furled,\n\nAnd not just for the present, but the future as well,\n\nFor if a feline fury rose, another box was there, ready to swell..."
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[WP] The aliens have come to destroy Earth because they saw how bad it is, but they gave us a choice. If a random person can prove that Earth can still be saved, they'll leave. And they randomly chose you. They just don't know that you don't like this world AT ALL.
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"I typed this up in a slightly better form, and then it vanished before I could hit post so I had to try and recreate it from memory, so sorry for any typos. This is my first prompt I've ever written to, so hopefully it's not *too* bad.\n\n\\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n“Let it burn.”\n\nTwo of the three aliens stared at me with their singular, unblinking eyes.\n\n“What?” One of them said, cocking his head back. This one had started to annoy me, not being able to keep his mouth shut to save his life. He had spent most of his time here complaining about how his first mission off his home world was to be sent to the *roach nest* of Earth to determine if it should be destroyed. Despite agreeing with him, I couldn’t wait for him to leave.\n\nAnother of the aliens motioned a hand towards him, and he finally had shut up. This next alien looked to be in control. Adorned in ornate, green jewelry, she appeared to be a queen of some sort. The third alien kept its back to all of us the entire time. Carrying a rifle, I assumed it to be a bodyguard.\n\n“Please ignore Jheesitatshun, he has yet to understand the importance of our work.”\n\nCheez-It looked down in embarrassment. I quickly realized that I was not going to learn how to pronounce their names.\n\n“Despite that, I do share his curiosity as to why the human being we chose to negotiate the salvation of its species is instead insisting that we carry out our mission of destroying your people.”\n\n“Humanity doesn’t deserve salvation. Every chance we get to save our species we end up using to try and dig a deeper grave for ourselves.”\n\n“How so?” Queen asked, he voice deep and menacing.\n\n“With humanity our poor fight amongst themselves for survival, our decently off keep to themselves, and our rich search for their next conquest while stomping out any chance of those below them from getting up. We use energy sources that knowingly poison ourselves just because it’s convenient. We spent centuries developing methods to defeat the most debilitating disease we can contract, and then willingly gave ourselves an obesity epidemic.”\n\n“What about art? We’ve heard your people are adept at expressing their imperfections.” Queen seemed bewildered that their interviewee was encouraging the death of humanity.\n\n“The great artists are long dead, and all that’s left is commercialized garbage. Hollywood is a decaying sham. Television is more focused on adhering to focus groups and data models to push any boundaries. And the record labels give so little to artists that we’ve just been stuck with perpetual touring rather than new albums.”\n\n“Paintings?”\n\n“If good things were coming out do you think we’d still be fawning over da Vinci?”\n\n“Well, what about the internet? Your species seems to have built an impressive network to allow for communication across your planet.” Queen seemed concerned, as if she was in some esoteric nightmare rather than her day job.\n\n“It was a great idea in theory, but all it ended up being used for is pornography and propaganda.”\n\nI sighed and leaned back in my chair. Queen looked increasingly bewildered, shook her head, and looked back at me.\n\n“Is there anything you could possibly say that could be construed as positive, or at least optimistic? Has anything ever made you happy? Is there a moment you’re proud of? Can you at least tell us if there was a moment in your life where you didn’t have the absurdly, unrealistically, and quite honestly *unsettlingly* nihilistic world view that currently inhabits your mind?”\n\n“I kind of like looking at pictures of cats sometimes.”\n\nQueen jumped up out of her chair, throwing her arms into the air.\n\n“Kittens!” She exclaimed, a faint hint of fear creeping into her usually powerful voice.\n\n“Pictures of kittens, what a great representation of humanities potential. Those pictures truly show humanities ability to see the happiness and innocence of other species as well and forces them to contemplate and wish for those traits to come back to their own species. How tragic, it brings moisture to my dry eye!”\n\nQueen motioned for Cheez-It and bodyguard to go. She seemed eager to leave the planet.\n\n“Humanity is saved!” She shakily cheered as they teleported back to their ship and flew off.",
"*\"Then Abraham spoke up again: 'Now that I have been so bold as to speak to the Lord, though I am nothing but dust and ashes; What if the number of the righteous is five less than fifty? Will you destroy the whole city for lack of five people?'\"*\n\n-Genesis 18: 27-28\n\n \n\nI was the opposite of Abraham: I possessed no intention protecting Earth from wrathful God. If I were him, I would have asked for destruction if a single unrighteous person was found. Such was my outlook up to our first encounter with them.\n\n \n\n\"We can give the task to someone else?\" light shimmered as one of the aliens moved around the house. Primitive Earthlings like myself could mistake *'Them'* as divine figures, their form only hinted as radiant floating orbs. Coincidentally, they also came from Alpha Leonis, or so they told me. Another orb chimed in, \"A random selection from those who wanted to save the planet is preferable.\"\n\n \n\n\"Can you leave me alone now?\" I asked. The three gathered in front of me, orbiting around each other. Their movements mesmerized me, calming my emotions. I slapped my face, my feelings of frustration with Earth returning. \"I don't understand why you're so interested in trying to let someone save the planet when I've already said 'Yes, I agree with you, destroy us'...\"\n\n \n\n\"This is the first time a representative admitted wickedness rather than present us with elementary pabulum. This intrigues us...\"\n\"Indeed,\" Belthazar began, \"Your honesty could in fact be considered a redeeming quality, enough to adjust the parameters of our test.\"\n\n \n\n\"Stop!\" I shouted, flailing my arms at them. Anger turned to guilt and sadness inside me. When they first arrived in my bedroom, I was almost elated. *\"Here comes my sweet release,\"* I thought. Too cowardly to perform the deed myself, I resigned to not having children and living recklessly to keep my time on this planet short. Plus I was too much of a sop to not hurt the people who 'loved' me.\n\n\"Yes?\" When they spoke in unison, I could pick out a hint of bell like tones in their voice.\n\n\"You're all powerful, why are you bothering with this whole 'redeem the Earth' nonsense?\" I asked.\n\n\"Because that is what we believe humans would do, but we are not human...\"\n\n \n\n\"You are not up to the task, but you convinced us to withhold judgement until we properly accommodate the shortcoming in our plan. Goodbye Jessie.\" Pain surged through my back, their departure created a shock-wave knocking me flat on my back, much stronger than the one from their arrival. Twisting my head, I glanced at the television monitor, finally coming out of static with their presence gone.\n\n \n\n\"A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE\" The news broadcast began, \"Alien catastrophe averted for the holidays by Jessie Brian D'Nazarro.\" A shot of the three glowing orbs in front of the UN in New York City appeared on the screen, \"Given the efforts of Earthling Jessie...\"\nClosing my eyes, I tried to sleep on the cold hard floor. \"Merry Christmas Earth...\" With no intention of moving from my position, I continued my Christmas alone."
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[WP] Your brother died last year. It's been a tough grieving process and you've spent a lot of time looking through messages and photos from him. As you look through his messages today he suddenly comes online. And starts typing...
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"I had fallen asleep without even packing my brother’s things back into the cardboard box. It was dark out when I fell asleep, and when I woke up there still was no light to shine in through my window. I rolled onto my side and gazed toward my alarm clock, though it took me a minute to understand the symbols that spelled out the time.\n\nIt was three in the morning.\n\n\"Great…” I rolled onto my other side to go back to sleep when my phone vibrated with a punctual bzzt, the sort that tells you you have a new text. \n\nThey’ll text again if it’s important. I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep, but the person reaching out to me clearly wanted my attention: in the span of the next four minutes my phone bzzt’d six more times.\n\n“Okay… I guess it’s important.” I groaned, rolled back over, and yanked my phone from its charger. The LCD screen blinded me, and I squinted to see the name of whoever felt it was okay to text me at three in the morning on a work night.\n\nThe header on the notifications read: Jason.\n\nJason?\n\nMy brother?\n\nThe grogginess left me in an instant. “That can’t be right.” I opened my phone and read the messages. \n\n“Hey man, it’s been a while.\n“I know a lot’s happened since I left. Let’s catch up.\n\n“I’m outside right now. \n\n“Sorry for the short notice. I missed my brother.”\n\n“He’s outside? Right now?” As much as I hated to admit it, he was that kind of guy.\n\nRight now, though, it didn’t matter what kind of guy he was, because he was also my brother and I missed him and I thought he was gone forever. I had always hoped that he was secretly alive, that there had been some misunderstanding.\n\nThe thought that it could be some sick prank flashed in my head, but I dismissed it immediately. Even if it was possible, I had to go see if it was him. He was my brother.\n\n“I’m coming,” I texted him.\n\nI picked myself up from my bed and sprinted down the stairs. I realized I was definitely more tired than I felt as I fiddled with the lock, which didn’t cooperate with my trembling hands, which in turn were not cooperating with my mind..\n\n“Come on, damn it…” What kind of man struggles with his own front door?\n\nIt took me longer than I wanted to admit (read: any time longer than four seconds), but I shoved the door open, and there he was, looking just like he did the last time I saw him.\n\n“Hey, dude.” He gave me a little nonchalant wave. It was definitely him, his casual but friendly appearance was unmistakable. I seized my brother immediately in a hug, and started to sob. I wanted to say something to the vein of “What happened, you fucking idiot? Where were you?” But when I opened my mouth, I choked out weird sounds instead of actually speaking.\n\n\nMy brother seemed taken aback. “Woah, dude,” he wrapped his arms around me. “What’s going on? I know it’s been like two months, but--”\n\nTwo months? Only two months? \n\nThen it hit me.\n\nI’ve seen this scene many times before, and not just in my dreams.\n\nThis was the day he died.\n\nHe left my house late that night, and got in an accident with a drunk driver.\n\nThey couldn’t save him.\n\n\nMy brother has been dead for a year. \n\nThis wasn’t my brother. This was just a dream I’d lived through many times.\n\nI pulled away from him, and looked at his face again.\n\n“What’s wrong? Why do you look so sad to see me?”\n\nI stuck my arm out to touch his face, but I couldn’t reach him. Why was he so far away, even though he was right there?\n\n“Do you need to talk? I can listen. Just like the old days?”\n\nI stepped forward and stuck out both my arms, but he was too far away.\n\n\"Man, you’re acting weird. Let’s go get some drinks, huh? Maybe that’ll snap you out of it.”\n\nHe sounded and acted like my brother, but instinctively, I knew he was beyond my reach, and the only way I could “catch up” was to die.\n\nI wiped the tears from my face, and when I brought my hand away from my eyes, he had vanished.\n\n“Jason?” Even though I knew he had been dead for a year, I flung my head from side to side. “Jason, where did you go?!”\n\n“Jason!” I ran out into the street. “Jason, please!”\n\nHe disappeared from my life again.\n\n\nWhen I woke up, the darkness had disappeared. I wiped my cheeks, dry but stained from last night’s tears, with my hand.\n\nI rolled over and looked at my clock. Five a.m.\n\nI knew Jason wasn’t coming back to me. To us. And I couldn’t go see him while I was alive. At least, not in the flesh.\n\nMaybe, though, I’d stop by drop off some flowers before work.\n\n",
"\"*SpookySkel787 is typing...*\" the letters made me furious as they appeared.\n\n\"After all this, and someone's trying to use your account...\" today marked the one year anniversary of Alex's death. Everything shattered for Mom and Dad, and Emily couldn't handle the loss well either. Using my willpower, I spent the last twelve months cleaning up the fingerprints he left on the web.\n\n \n\nBringing closure to his online presence was a slog. Closing and backing up his photos he uploaded, setting up a memorial page, and hunting down his stray accounts easily ate up the year. Websites took a perfect fifty-fifty split between being helpful and being awful. I watched as the one last account that slipped my oversight typed: \"*I need help bro...*\"\n\n \n\n\"*My brother is dead. What you are doing is wrong. Get off the account!*\" My fingers slammed on the enter key. Most trolls backed off when I brought up this fact, but there always had to be one who never relented.\n\n\"*Mike, it's really me...*\"\n\n \n\nWithout hesitation, I blocked the account. As soon as the text box closed, Emily rushed in with her laptop. \"Hey, is this for real?\" She asked, shoving the screen into my face. I blinked several times before reading SpookySkel787's address to my sister \"*Emily, the combo to my foot locker was 23-8-37, get Mike and open it. The signed figurine he gave me is still there*\"\n\"It's a troll Emily.\"\n\n \n\n\"Just do it,\" she told me. If I didn't do as asked, she would probably bawl, so I went into his old room. Most of his belongings had been packed or moved out, but the footlocker was never opened. Not bothering to turn the light on in the room, I walked over to the trunk.\n\n \n\nA small glint from the steel loop caught my eye. Dad never bothered with getting bolt cutters to remove the lock. Lucky for the impostor that Emily wanted to entertain his suggestion.\n\"Whatever we find stays in here\" I told Emily.\n\"Uh-huh,\"\n\n \n\nBending down, I carefully rotated the dial, \"23... 8... 37...\" Maybe he felt better with the box left this way. I couldn't imagine our father's depression getting any better if his dead son's personal notes suggested he took his own life instead of the coroner's conclusion of an accident.\n\n \n\nI pulled on the lock, and Emily gasped as it gave a satisfying click. \"It's him,\" she said. Opening the lid, my eyes widened as they saw right on top of his other belongings a translucent package: A Daenerys Targaryen Funko Pop Figurine, signed by Emilia Clarke herself. After containing my brief bout of excitement, I calmed myself. One of us had to be rational in this situation.\n\n \n\n\"No its not. We don't know if he told someone the locker combo or showed off his stuff.\"\n\n\"*I'm not dead... I'm just not here*\" popped up in the message box on Emily's computer. My fingers flew over the keys \"*This is Mike. Prove you're Alex*\" Silence on the other end. Tears ran down Emily's face.\n\n\"Don't block the account, this is either some sicko who knew too much about Alex, or we need to...\"\n\n \n\nLights flickering suddenly on and off interrupted me. They came on and off rapidly four times. After a pause with the room dark, another flicker and pause. Was he telling us something? Another four flashes happened, though the second one was longer.\n\n \n\n\"What's going on!?\" Emily shoved her body into mine with a might hug, the room still blinking.\n\n\"Morse code, he's flickered out 'HELP',\" a deep dread grew inside me. I always remembered reminding Alex to type out S.O.S. when teaching him code for scouts. 'HELP' was a mistake he only made when learning with me, having used SOS properly when getting his badge.\n\n \n\n\"How?\" I typed back, every second hoping my initial doubt wasn't the cause of his demise.\n",
"\"I need some time to myself, please.\" I said to my mother, slowly waking to my room. I didn't hear her reply, but i was sure she was feeling the same way I was. Christmas didn't seem the same without Pete at the table. *First Dad, and now you. Why'd you have to go and be a hero?*\n\nSlouching in my chair in front of the computer, I looked a the collage of photos above the screen. In the center, two pairs of bright eyes looked back at me. One was mine, a pair that had lost its luster in the past year.\n\nThe other pair would never shine again.\n\nFighting back tears, I looked away, booting up the computer from sleep. Things were the way I had left them previously. My focus centered on the small box in the center of the screen. The messages from a year ago, the last things he had sent to me.\n\n**PeteTheGreat:** Can't wait to be home for the holidays. One last test, then I'm home free. \n**Minimusicman:** How does it feel, mister college man? \n**PeteTheGreat:** Glad it's over. One semester down, too many more to go. \n**Minimusicman:** I can't wait to get to college. \n**PeteTheGreat:** Yes you can. Take my word for it, you can take the time, live your own life. \n**PeteTheGreat:** BRB, there's something going on outside.\n\nThat was the last thing he had sent to me. I had waited for hours, waiting to talk to him more. But he never came back. It was only after I heard the news the next day did I realize what had happened. \n\nI brushed the hair back from my eyes with both hands. Pete was too good for the world he had been a part of, being a good friend to everyone he met. His messages and photos were all that I had to remind me of that. I glanced at the message again, almost wishing that something would change.\n\n*PeteTheGreat is now typing...*\n\nMy eyes widened, my heart rate quickening. *This can't be possible!* I glanced at the icon next to his name, shining a bright green. The shade that hadn't been seen there in a year.\n\nThe dinging noise of the messaging system caused me to jump.\n\n**PeteTheGreat:** Hey, I'm back. Sorry, what did I miss? \n\n/u/TemporaryPatch New Years Resolution Tracker: 62/100. Visit /r/TemporaryPatchWrites for more responses and stories!"
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[WP] Feeling as you have nothing left to lose, you decide to try summoning a demon. However, the demon takes pity on you and decides to try getting your life back on track.
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"\"Fuck it,\" I muttered in my dazed and drunken state. I pulled myself off the floor and stumbled through the mess of empty bottles and food containers of the last few days. I fell into the shelf with a bit of a thump but steadied myself. I took a second to find what I was looking for. Then I settled on it: the old Ouija board. \n\nI'd bought it as a joke with my roommates back at university. We had only used it the once: on a drunken night. Nothing had happened and we soon forgot about it; letting it sit on the shelf to collect dust. It was still here, 10 years later, sat on the same shelf. I guess, being the only one still living in our old flat now, I had inherited it. \n\nI pulled it out, settled back in my little nest on the grubby floor and set it up. I knew it was a stupid idea, ouija boards weren't real... but it was something to pass the time. Plus, a small part of me hoped that it might give me someone to talk to... \n\nTaking another swig of my beer, I placed my finger on the disc and began. \n\"Hello?\" I asked, into the darkness. I felt a little stupid, like I was a dog barking into the empty night. I shook my head; there was no one around to hear. \n\"Hello?\" I tried again. \"Helloooo? Hello hello hellooooo!\" I drunkenly hollered at the board. \nMy finger began to move across the board. \n\"H-E-L-L-O\"\n\"Hello!\" I gasped, pausing for a second. \"I'm Andrew. Who are you?\"\n\"B-E-E-L-Z-E-B-U-B\" My hand spelt out. \nI froze. I hadn't meant to summon a demon. Just a friendly old ghost; someone to chat to, share a few stories... Not the devil himself. \n\"You're the devil?\" I asked, still a little dumbstruck. \n\"Y-E-S\" came the reply. \nI knew I should let him go, close the gate, keep the literal devil OUT of my life... but my drunken mind had other ideas. \n\"What's hell like?\" \n\"I can show you if you like?\" A booming voice cackled through the room. It filled all space and I felt the very sound shake my bones. \n\"Just the description will do...\" I whispered back, a tiny sound against the impressive sound. \n\"It's fire!\" The voice boomed, sending flames dancing around me. I cowered away from the sudden heat. \n\"It's pain!\" He boomed. I suddenly felt a searing through my flesh. I clutched my body as a scream erupted from deep within me. \n\"It's - wait...\" the voice stopped. The flames and pain immediately ceased. I breathed heavily. My relief was only for a brief moment, until a small red man, with horns and a wicked tail appeared in front of me. \n\"Christ, man, what a MESS,\" The Devil commented. \n\"What?\" I asked, dumbstruck. \n\"Your apartment.\"\n\"What's wrong with it?\" I asked. \n\"Food containers, beer bottles, cigarette butts..\" he muttered, stepping around the room. \n\"Ugh. Okay, okay, where was I?\" He shook his head. \"Yes, yes! Fire! Pain! And tortured souls!\" He boomed. Suddenly, I found myself transported back into the searing pain with hot flames surrounding me and horrible, terrible screams as a new addition to the vile explanation of hell. \n\"Wait, wait, wait,\" The Devil broke off again, ceasing his theatrics. \"Ugh, there's so many dirty tissues...\" he stepped around the room once more, picking through my items. \"And there's a stack of DVDs without cases... and that blanket hasn't been washed in months... and have you EVER dusted this place?\"\nI shrugged in response. \n\"Come on, man, you're not in your 20s anymore.\" \nI shrugged again. \n\"Despondent. I should have known.\"\n\"Hey, man, I didn't think life would be like this,\" I told him. \"I hoped by now I'd be out of my customer service job, living in my own place, with a wife and a family.\" \n\"And?\" The Devil asked. \nI shrugged again. \"This is life.\" I replied, gesturing around the festering pit that my old university home had become. \n\nThe Devil raised an eyebrow.\n\"I'm going to offer you something that I've never offered anyone,\" he began. \n\"What's that?\" I asked. \n\"Let me help you change your life around. I'll help you get yourself back on your feet: get you a girlfriend, land you a job, get you out of this funk you've found yourself in.\" \n\"What's the catch? I guess you'll want my soul or something in return?\"\n\"Usually yes, but this time; no. Nothing. Just let me help you out. Honestly, this place is disgusting and you just accept this as your lot. I see potential in you, Andrew. \" \n\"You do? Good or evil potential?\" I asked. \n\"We'll have to wait and see,\" he told me. \n\"Alright. I guess I'm in?\" I shrugged. \n\n\n "
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[WP] After someone dies, the book of their life appears on their grave. One day you're at the graveyard and you pick up a book, you read it all the way through and at the end it says "to be continued...".
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"\"To be continued...\" Trent said. \"What does that mean?\"\n\nTrent Lancaster leafed back through the pages of the black leather-bound book. He had taken it out of a protected shelf within a tombstone. \n\nThe tombstone was gigantic, with four pillars on the corners and a giant pigeon on top. \n\nTrent craned his head, taking in the giant monument. The sky was a hanging specter, giving a gloomy atmosphere to the graveyard.\n\nHe continued to scan through the book, to learn more about this woman. The corpse long forgotten. \n\nTrent leaned in and placed the black book where he had found it. Just as he was about to leave, he had an idea.\n\nHe decided that since this woman was already dead, she wouldn't miss the book anyway. Trent took the book and slid it into his satchel. \n\nTrent was a struggling writer. He worked as a graphic designer by day, and wrote romance novels by night. He chose to go by the pseudonym Holly Hampshire, fearing he wouldn't be taken seriously as a romance author.\n\nThere was quite a bit of room left in the black Life Book, so Trent decided to *continue* the story. He spent a few hours before bed writing in the black book. Melissa, the dead woman, had died young. She was only twenty-five when she had a heart attack and keeled over during dinner with her parents. She'd never married.\n\nTrent wrote a short entry of about five hundreds words. He wrote that she miraculously awoke and jumped out of the hospital bed. Unfortunately she suffered from amnesia, so she didn't know where to go.\n\nShe ended up at the door of a struggling writer in the small town of Lynchburg. It was pouring, and she didn't have an umbrella. When the man answered the door, she was completely soaked.\n\nTrent was flummoxed as to what should happen next. Should she hug him? Why would she do that? *But they have to get together, right*?\n\n*Or maybe he could say something stupid, and she slaps him*.\n\nThe ideas swirled in Trent's mind. He couldn't solve the riddle of how the amnesiac and writer should come together. It just didn't make sense to him. He had years of experience writing romance, but as soon as he inserted himself into the story... *nothing*.\n\nTrent listened to the symphonic patter of rain on the shingles of his roof. He would sleep well tonight. He put the story to rest until tomorrow morning. It always helped to have some distance from the story.\n\nHe yawned, and rubbed his eyes. He put a post-it note in the last page as a bookmark, and closed it for the night.\n\nAs he fell into his bed, he melted into the pale cotton sheets. Everything went dark, and comfy.\n\n*Ding dong*\n\nTrent jolted awake, looking at his clock. He'd only slept for two hours.\n\n*Ding dong*.\n\nTrent went down to see who was at the door. *Who the hell is up at three in the morning?*\n\nTrent swung the door open. And there she was.\n\nMelissa. Brown eyes, rosy lips, button nose. Her hair was long and shiny, and had apparently been torrentially soaked in the hammering storm.\n\nShe looked like a dead rat in a mourning dress. \n\nTrent had a vague sense of deja vu, and recalled what he'd written a few hours prior.\n\n\"Um... hi?\" Trent said.\n\nMelissa stared at him. She fainted to the ground, forming a self-made puddle. Trent dragged her into the house, and closed the door behind them. \n\nMelissa wasn't responsive. Trent tried to coax her awake, but she just drifted further and further away.\n\nTrent thought for a moment, and realized that this was exactly where he'd left off in the story.\n\nHe left Melissa on his couch and drifted over to the black book. He removed the post-it note and went to work. *What next?*\n\nTrent came to the conclusion that he had an extreme case of writer's block. But he had to force something out of his brain. There was no time for outlining. He would have to pants this thing.\n\n*OK. Melissa sits up from the couch and asks where she is.*\n\nTrent heard a rustle on the couch.\n\n\"Whe.. Where am I?\" Melissa said.\n\n*OK What next? Yes, Melissa walks over to the dashing Trent Lancaster and...*\n\n\"Hello? Where am I? What am I doing in this room?\"\n\nTrent was getting distracted, feeling torn between the reality of the leather book and the brown-eyed reality staring him in the face.\n\n\"Hi there. I'm Trent.\"\n\nMelissa stood staring. Trent continued to write. *Melissa reached her hand out and offered to shake hands. Trent responds by giving her a romantic kiss upon her hand*.\n\nMelissa held out her hand. Trent couldn't believe what was happening. His heart was racing. He kissed her hand, and wondered what his mind would come up with next.\n\nHis mind was swooning with all the possibilities. His mind was on fire. \n\n*What next?*\n\nTrent looked into Melissa's amber brown eyes, and realized he was trying to play God. He scribbled a few sentences in the book, handed it to Melissa, and let her leave, with a large black umbrella. \n\nAlthough the night was gloomy, he knew Melissa would find her way home.\n\n***\n\nWhile walking, Melissa clutched the black leather-bound book to her chest. She was incredibly confused about today's events, and was searching her soul for the answers. \n\nAs she walked, she flipped through pages of the book. It read like a journal she never wrote. Yet she was the only person who knew all these things. \n\nShe sat on a sidewalk edge as the storm clouds began to part. She flipped to the final page. A tear rolled down her cheek.\n\n*Trent Lancaster gave Melissa the book of her life. She took the book and left into the darkness. She would forever be the author of her own life.*\n\nMelissa took out the pen Trent had given her before she left. She wrote the first thing that came to mind:\n\n*LOL*\n\nShe laughed out loud."
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[WP] As an adult who still believes in Santa Claus, you are outraged that your child, who has been very good, didn't get anything for Christmas!
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"“Well, Ron, you know money’s a little tight this year. And Jamie wanted that new Switch console.”\n\n“What the hell does that have to do with anything, Sharon?! I was good all year. The only reason we’re even in this hole is because I turned down that promotion so Jon could have it. I knew he needed the money, and it seemed like something Santa would approve of.”\n\n“You what?”\n\n“Besides, that wasn’t even the best thing I did this year. I gave up smoking, drinking and even porn. I haven’t watched any porn this year, Sharon. None.”\n\n“You didn’t have to give up porn, Ron…”\n\n“I know. That’s why I did it. Because I didn’t have to. And those are just the good things I did. Let’s not even get into the bad things I didn’t do.”\n\n“Are you being serious right now?”\n\n“I know about Jeff.”\n\n“..”\n\n“I know all about you and Jeff... My own brother. And I didn’t do anything about it, all for a few gifts under the tree… 25 years and this is his first mistake, I guess I should cut the big guy a little slack.”\n\n“Ron, I didn’t mean… You were gone for a few months. I’m so sorry, I-”\n\n“You did it when I was gone? That was 6 years ago. Jamie is…”\n\n“I’m so sorry.”\n\nRon turned and looked to his young boy.\n\n“You looked at Jeff differently, I could tell. Every Thanksgiving we spent at my parents' house, you looked at him like you used to look at me. And every year I looked away and did nothing. I was really hoping for a 4K TV.”\n\n“Honey, I think you’re having a panic attack. Santa Clause isn’t-”\n\n“I know, he isn’t coming. You don’t need to tell me… Maybe he found out about you two. You were naughty enough for the both us. Yes, that has to be it. And… and that means he won’t ever be coming back.”\n\nRon paced up and down.\n\n“If he’s not coming back… Then what reason do I have to…”\n\nRon grabbed his coat and turned toward the door.\n\n“Where are you going?!”\n\n“First, I’m going to kill my piece of shit brother. Then, I’m going to Wal-Mart to buy myself that 4K TV.”",
"Dad!!!! \n\nI awoke in a daze. \n\nDad!!! He didn’t come! He didn’t come” my son Simon, frantically bellowed.\n\nI rolled out of bed, still slightly disoriented, and grabbed him by the hand. I didn’t have my glasses on, but could still tell that he was visibly distraught.\n\n“It’s Ok bud. Everything’s alright.” I meekly attempted to calm him, but he still appeared inconsolable. \n\n“Santa never showed up” He shrieked!\n\nFinally it dawned on me. I snapped out of my discombobulated state, and popped out of bed in an instant. Still holding Simon’s hand, we ran downstairs together, only to see the barren tree skirt underneath our now extremely sad looking Christmas tree. The milk and cookies we laid out on the coffee table hadn’t been touched. The wire gate around the fireplace hadn’t been opened. Something was wrong here. Something was seriously wrong. Simon began crying. “What did I do wrong?” He howled. “What did I do wrong?”\n\nI was flustered. I was confused. But more than anything I was pissed. How? How did this happen? Simon doesn’t deserve this. I don’t deserve this. It was our first Christmas together since Rebecca passed. I never thought I’d be able to raise a kid all on my own, but Simon made it so easy. He was a kind, caring, generous, kid. Even after his mom died after a tumultuous battle with cancer, he remained upbeat. I’ve been a wreck most of this past year. I mean, I was a mess. But he picked me up. He showed me how much I still had to be thankful for. That kid is a goddamn saint, and he deserves some god damn presents. \n\nI check the news to see if there’s any word on Santa’s absence, but there’s nothing. I get out my laptop to check Facebook. Maybe his disappearance happened on a local level. Wrong again. It appears he’s already hit the town and visited everyone. Well, almost everyone. Everyone but myself and Simon. I looked out the window to see the asshole neighbor kid riding a brand new bike in his driveway. How the hell did he get toys and Simon didn’t? That piece of shit kid just got suspended from school last week for killing the classroom pet rabbit by feeding it chalk. \n\nIf only Rebecca was here, she would know what to do. She would know how to handle this. Things were so much easier when she was here. Losing her was the hardest thing I ever experienced in my life. I wasn’t about to lose my son too. I could tell by his cold expressionless face, that he was already losing all hope. He had managed to hold it together for the last 11 months, but this....this was going to be the thing that broke him. \n\nNot on my watch. Nope. Fuck that. I grabbed my wallet and reached for my credit card. I booked the first available flight to Antartica, and packed a carry-on with only six items. A coat, balaclava, pair of gloves, scarf, snow boots, and a gun. \n\nMy plan was simple. Find this bearded son-of-a-bitch and teach him a lesson. "
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[WP] One day you are having a normal life, the next day you find out your stillborn twin brother has been climbing the 9 layers of hell and gaining power to try and kill you and take over your life.
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"I had first gotten the idea when, after a succession of depressingly normal occurences of a depressingly normal and mediocre daily life, I thought to myself: \"I could be so much better. I could achieve such brilliant accomplishments. If only I ran away and focused solely on improving myself...\". Then, one day, as if the Universe had read my mind and implanted my ideas on someone with more of a will, I read a comment on a self-improvement video (the ones I usually watch while fantasizing about my future, perfect self), dictating how he/she had given up on a mediocre life and gone on a journey with the few bucks they had saved, focusing on nothing but self-improvement, and had returned home a few years later a better person, a successful person, a fulfilled person, to the joy and pride of the family they had left behind. I now realize it might have been naïve of me to believe such a thing, but imagining my mother smile with pride at a better version of myself was motivation enough to abandon my miserable life.\n\nAnd so I did. I quit my mediocre job, said my goodbyes to those few neighbors I occasionaly spoke to, promised my tearful mother I would return, improved to the limit and capable of anything I set my mind to, and left to distant lands.\n\nIt did not take long for mediocrity to catch up to my over-optimistic self. I was thinking of doing a Stephen Strange-type journey to the Himalayas, but only had money for a broke idiot-type journey to some random pile of rocks with just barely enough size to be called a \"mountain\". It was close enough, lacking anything resembling urban concentrations, or recent technology for that matter: the closest thing being a poor village on the foot of the glorified hill I was eyeing, the only relevant feature in a land otherwise barren of importance. But I was searching for that seemingly irrelevant environment, far from the city lights, far from my daily life, far from the all-encompasing boredoom.\n\nNight came, and I decided that sleeping in the middle of the forest that covered the so-called mountain would be too radical a step, and that the hamlet next to it was likely to offer more comfortable accomodation. As I was searching for any building even slightly resembling an hotel in the dark streets, cursing my ignorance of village life with a silent voice, when I heard steps behind me. I turned but, seeing nothing, continued on my semi-random path, ignorant of the hand that slowly covered my mouth with a rag, and everything went dark as I fell asleep...\n\nI woke up tied to a chair, in a room which would be empty if it had not been for the tall, cloaked stranger eyeing me from a dark corner, and the single candle that provided a small light to the dark space. The stranger approached me until I could see his eyes, brown circled by green just like mine, but aflame with hate. I remembered my mother telling me how I had a twin brother, stillborn, with small eyes equal to mine. But it couldnt be. It could not. But it was. The stranger took the cloak off, revealing hideously scarred skin, horrifically burned, as if he had been swimming in a pool of burning blades. But it wasn't just burned. It was moving, changing, slowly healing itself with some sort of dark power, retaking its former appearance at the pace of a snail. And while I watched the process, disturbed beyond reason, the scarred man spoke with a voice I had never heard before, but that sounded so familiar, so... similar to mine: \"Hello, brother. You must be distressed, confused, scared even. Worry not. I am here to grant you your wish, to make Alphonse Carter better, successful, fulfilled.\" My breath was taken out of my lungs, and my expression slowly changed from disturbed to shocked to horrified, my brain unable to understand how those words could have been said as they were. The stranger grinned wide at my horror. \"Yes. Yes. Yes. You know, I litteraly went through Hell to see that face, and it does not disappoint. Along the way I picked up some... abilities, including the regeneration you are observing now, although I admit it is a bit slow, and the trick I will show you now.\" With those words, spawned between his hands a mass of a dark, mist-like substance, which he proceded to insert in my chest, making it explode in an nigh-unbearable amount of pain. As I screamed, he explained how it would take a year for the transformation to be complete, pratically the same time it would take for his wounds to heal. \"And then you will be able to watch as your life is lived exactly as you would want to, with the added twist that YOU will NOT be the one to enjoy it. I had a lot of time in Hell to plot my return, with only constant torture and the observation of your life to spend my time, resulting in me knowing EVERYTHING about you, and even things you don't know about yourself. Armed with that knowledge, it was a breeze to implant in you the desire for improvement, the desire for change, and it will be a breeze living in your place, enjoying perfection as is my RIGHT.\"\n In my pain and confusion, I could only mutter: \"W..h..y.....?\", causing his expression to explode with rage. \"WHY?! WHY?!?! IT WAS YOU WHO CAUSED THIS! I WAS THE ONE THAT SHOULD HAVE LIVED, NOT YOU, PARASITE!\" He took a deep breath and, calming down, continued: \"I had forgotten Mother never told you, how one of the twins had gobbled up all those precious little nutrients, leaving the other to wither away before his life even began...\". With that said, he returned to the corner of the room, and I lost consciousness.\n\nThe next months were impossibly miserable, more than my life had ever been until then. As the dark magic slowly transformed my body, I suffered from hunger and thirst, barely conscious, unable to die, while the wounds of my supposedly-dead twin brother slowly healed, the scarred man giving place to a more muscular, slightly taller, better-looking version of myself. In the end, when he had fully healed, I felt my body burning horribly, shrinking to the size of a mosquito. With no time to question my new, horrible form, I tried to fly away, but every time I tried to get out of the room, I was drawn to my brother with impossible force. \"Now, now, don't you dare escape when the fun has just begun!\", he exclaimed mockingly, and made his way to the outside, with me trailing behind, unable to get away from him.\n\nWhen he stopped in the front door of Mother's house, I realized the extent of his plan and of my condition, incapable of stopping him and condemned to observe what I could have been until he decided I had suffered enough. He knocked, and soon enough an old woman opened the door, her eyes filling with joy and pride as she noticed the tall, muscular, handsome, impeccably dressed man in front of her. Her son. Tears rolled down her face. \"Al--Al--Alph-\" \"Mother, now now, do you not recognize your son anymore?\" As they hugged and she cried tears of joy in his chest, the evil twin looked at the mosquito besides him, smiling triumphantly, his eyes aflame with hate as the final metaphorical nail was laid in the metaphorical coffin, has those words left his mouth: \"It's Alphonse, Mother. It's me.\"\n\nP.S.: My first time writing in here, please let all criticism be constructive. Thank you for taking your time to read!\n\nEdit: Corrected some grammar mistakes, improved some phrases, tied it up a bit.\n",
"English is not my strong suit but i'll try to use the minimal vocabulary that I have to present something that'll hopefully interest and entertain readers.\n\n​\n\nPower, a drug that spares no one. One day you're a knight in shining armor, the next you're a madman waging war, raging hell everywhere. Drunk on the power that made you invincible, you loose sight of what is to become of the world with these actions.\n\n\"The Time has come, Marcus. There's nothing we can do anymore. It's not out of our reach, but out of our capability to stop. It's all on you now\" says Michael as he sips on his martini.\n\n24 years. It might sound like a short time but I've lived a happy and successful life so far, met great people, made kind friends.\n\n\"No wonder the gods abandoned us\" said I as I finish my appletini.\n\nI like appletini. It has quite the fragrance and a smooth texture. They're supposed to be 1part apple schnapps, 3parts vodka, but I like mine sweet, 2parts each. Michael always tells me I owe him one but every time i try to offer, he says \"next time\" and gets a martini. He likes his martini shaken, not stirred. Classy, yet simple, is his style. I pay off my tab, and make my way to the exit.\n\n\"Be careful, friend. You still owe me a drink, treat me to it once it's all over.\" are Michael's last words before I disappear into the shadows of the night.\n\n​\n\nWe were born twins, or were supposed to be. One of us was a stillborn due to lack of nutrients in the womb. Doctors told the couple that one was consuming so much that the other got none and died. It was a tragic incident that left them broken for quite the long time. But humans learn to move on and find the joy in what they have, and so did the couple.\n\n​\n\nAwoken by a loud thunderous noise, I open my eyes. \"So, he's here.\"\n\n\"Yes, Michael and the others are intercepting him, they wont hold out much longer\" says Gabe as he enters through the window.\n\nI never understood why they can't just use the door like others. i tried asking once but all I got was \"It all about making an entrance, front doors are too mainstream.\" I'll never understand what it is with them and windows.\n\nI calmly get up from my bed, walk to my closet, get dressed, grab my keys, and try to make my the hell out of this town. Upon arrival he knew where I was but now that he's here, he has no way of tracking me, I think.\n\n​\n\nI've been on the road for 3 days now. Last I heard from Gabe was that Michael and the others took quite a hit, Michael especially. The city is in ruins too, now who would've thought that twat would be that strong. Should've grabbed the twinkie stash too. Man I'm hungry.\n\n​\n\n\"We can't track him, I have no idea where he is anymore. He just disappeared. no tracks, nothing\" Gabe informs me.\n\n\"Just about time\" I say as I slam the breaks. I'm in the middle of nowhere, Gabe is confused, we stare deep into each others eyes, seconds, minutes pass by, it gets more and more awkward every passing second.\n\nI've known these guys for over 30 years, not that they know of it. They might seem all strong and almighty but they are but just a bunch of overpowered kids. It's fun poking at em every now and then. Reminds me of what I used to be. Not a past I'm proud of.\n\n​\n\nA little ways away the ground goes aflame, and when the red embers settle, there he is, standing, staring at me, with blood shot eyes, with nothing in mind but vengeance, and wrath.\n\nStartled, Gabe calls his brothers and the rest 6 assemble in a matter of seconds to aid me. Bloodied, in no condition to fight back, yet they come to help a friend. What a happy life I've led in these 24 years, to have friends like these, what more could I ask for.\n\nI walk towards Lucas, my twin brother. Yes, our parents named us Lucas and Marcus. They were simpletons, never had much of a naming sense, our cat is named \"Emergency Food\" \\*sigh\\*.\n\n​\n\n\"Good to see you gain, little brother\" I say. The next thing I saw was the wide blue sky as I was flung away by the sheer inhumane strength in his uppercut. I land on the ground still staring at the sky thinking \"Is this what he went through?\"\n\nI hear the 7 angels call out to me asking if I was fine, or even alive. \"Quite the airtime it was, eh!\" I reply. But it's all jokes to escape reality, they know it and I can see it in their eyes how they dread being powerless in front of Lucas.\n\nLucas puts all his strength in his limbs, leaps at me, and unleashes barrage of punches and kicks. All I can see it as is a little brother venting out his frustration, anger, discontent out on his older brother but unlike that playful instance, this sends me flying from one spot to another, and then to another. Seconds, minutes, hours pass by, Lucas exhausted, I, muddied, he stops.\n\n​\n\nEveryone wondering how I'm even alive after all that, I open my mouth \"so, this is how it felt. Though shorter and painless for you, now I understand what might you have felt back then.\"\n\nI have blood on my hands too. All this is a ever repeating cycle, well, if we make it to be. I rose up, acquired all the power, slayed the angels, broke the god, took my brothers life, and restarted the timeline to me being the one to be born, and him, the one to die.\n\nAfter regaining sanity, 24 years is what it took me to realize how harsh life can be, ruthless this world can be, and wonderful friends can be. They have no recollection of the events in past cause for them, this all never happened. But the god remembers, and he abandoned the humanity for my sins. \n\n\nI once again walk to Lucas, \"It really has been a long time, brother\" I say as I grab his fist that was meant to sent me flying. Power, a drug that spares no one, I too was a victim once. Lucas tries his best to free himself while punching and kicking but nothing works, I'm unfazed, not even a scratch.\n\n\"Sorry.\" I say as I glance over towards Michael and the ground once again goes aflame, but this time, the ever-burning white hellfire rises, swallowing everything and everyone in it.\n\n​\n\nMichael sits there at the bar waiting for his martini to be served while wondering why he's the only one who remembers it all while nothing seems to have changed. He recalls God abandoning everyone yet there he is, looking over humanity, Lucas in his home celebrating Christmas with his wife and kids, his brothers serving the god like any other day.\n\n\"Here's your drink sir, 2parts apple schnapps, 2parts vodka.\" says the bartender before she leaves to tend to another customer.",
"My mom always used to say, five minutes early is on time and on time is late. She never really explained what five minutes late would be. Ridiculously late? Ludicrous truancy? Despite my mental urgings the red hand of the crosswalk sign refuses to disappear, keeping me at the corner of 12th and 31st while my interviewer probably wonders where the hell I am. \n\n\nMy phone vibrates. \n\n\n'I will take everything from you.'\n\n\nThe text is from 'unknown.' This creepiness again. As i scroll through the history I see a dozen or so identical texts from the same anonymous sender, all within the past year. They always seem to show up when I'm under stress. I dismiss the text and follow a gaggle of New Yorkers across the street, forcing my brain into interview mode.\n\n\nWhat are your greatest strengths? I'm an incredibly hard worker and I learn fast. Greatest weaknesses? Punctuality, ha ha. I hope this person has a sense of humor, otherwise I'm screwed. This is the only firm ive heard back from in two months, and one of the partners is golfing buddies with my advisor from law school. If I cant score this one, it may be time to check out Starbucks. \n\n\nBy the time I get to the building its ten past. A twenty something woman with dark red hair points me past the reception desk to an office marked 'Julius Turner.' Cycling through excuses and landing on leading a lost dog back to its owner, I knock.\n\n\n\"Come in?\" Someone says, clearly surprised.\n\n\nI swing the door in and see a large, well built black man behind a magnificent desk. Certificates and awards plaster the wall behind him in thick frames, and a putting green runs along one side of the room. In the classy, leather chair opposite the desk sits... me.\n\n\n\"Hey brother,\" the other me says.\n\n\nHe's me, there's no mistaking it, but so much better. Instead of my combed over wave, his hair is slicked back and immaculate. A well trained muscular frame substitutes for my dad bod and mini paunch, and glowing white teeth smile without my mildew yellow coffee stains. His suit is flawless and perfectly tailored, like a cologne ad in Esquire. I never knew I had the potential to look that good.\n\n\n\"Are you two twins?\" Asks Julius. \"Just so we're clear there's only one opening.\"\n\n\n\"Twins,\" says the better me. \"That's us. Though to be honest Mr. Turner we haven't seen each other in quite a while. Feels like a lifetime, really. When I found out my bro was applying for your firm, though, I knew I had to throw my hat in the ring. We love to compete, dont we brother?\"\n\n\n\"Brother,\" I repeat dumbly. \n\n\nI dont have a brother. I was supposed to have a brother but he died in the womb. My parents were going to name him...\n\n\n\"Victor,\" says the other me. \n\n\nThe name buffets me like a strong wind, driving the air from my lungs and nearly knocking me off balance. It cant be. That's impossible. Is this some kind of trick? But he's me. Exactly me. Did Mom lie about him? Was he born and put up for adoption for some reason? No, she wouldn't have lied. He died. He died before he was even born. \n\n\n\"Its good to see you again, brother,\" he says, a wicked smile creeping onto his face, \"I've been through hell to get here.\"\n\n"
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[WP] You live alone in your small apartment, except for a cat who finds his way in from time to time. Only you can hear him talk. He walks around judging outfits and decor in the sassiest manor.
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"\"You're going to wear that?\" Simon hissed. \n\n\"What's wrong with it?\" I called back, fixing my floral pattern button-up in the mirror. \n\n\"Oh darling, no. You look like a bag of catnip!\"\n\nMeet Simon, the stray cat currently licking his balls on my bed whilst he criticises my sartorial elegance. I can't accurately pinpoint when he entered my life, one day I just woke up to this tabby cat berating me for my choice nightwear.\n\nSince that day, he's been a constant in my dressing routine. Dates, job interviews, weddings, funerals. I can always expect him to be there, making sure I look sleek and elegant. \n\n\"Suzie got this shirt for me -- I like it.\" I said, turning to face Simon.\n\n\"Was she the blind, or the dumb one?\" \n\n\"She was the Veterinarian.\"\n\n\"That explains it.\" Simon scoffed. He continued, \"look, my dear, I may only be able to see shades of grey but even I can tell it looks like you're wearing a bag of melted crayons. Come, follow me.\"\n\nSimon lapped his tongue away from his legs and plopped off the side of the bed, dandering into the walk-in closet.\n\n\"You see this exquisite linen shirt?\" Simon said, his claws now hooked into the clothes as he tangled off the ground. \n\nI only grunted in reply, leaning against the doorway with my arms crossed. \n\n\"And- Oh...\" Simon continued, dropping to the floor and sniffing at a pile of disorganised shoes. \"Look at these Chelsea Boots -- très bien!\" He ended with a kiss.\n\n\"They're too tight, they hurt my toes.\" \n\n\"Darling, I should be the only pussy in this room.\"\n\n\"Ugh, fine,\" I replied in a solemn resignation.\n\nOnce again following the whimsical fancies of a stray cat, I quickly got changed with fervent intensity, keenly aware of the time. I stood at the door, doing the keys, wallet and phone patdown and just before I could leave Simon called out again. \n\n\"Ahem, aren't you forgetting something?\"\n\n\"No?\" I answered back, anxiously stepping from foot to foot eager to leave. \n\n\"The bed darling, the bed! You need to change these sheets.\" Simon sniffed at the pillows and scowled, \"they haven't been changed in weeks!\"\n\n\"I don't have time for this -- and besides, if anything does happen I'll be going back to her place.\"\n\n\"I don't understand, why would you not bring her back here? The night is young and so is your heart - who knows what could happen, you need to prepare.\"\n\n\"Oh really? Because the last time I brought anyone home we found a dead mouse under the sheets.\"\n\n\"It's an aphrodisiac, my dear.\"\n\n\"It's disgusting is what it is.\"\n\n\"Oh, you poor soul. I'm an extra-dimensional talking cat, if you don't think I can't just as easily put an aphrodisiac in her bed, you are sorely mistaken. Now -- change your sheets darling.\"\n\n---\n\n/r/SecretMortician \n\n\n\n"
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[WP] Your dentist has been warning you for years but you didn’t listen. Now the end of the world has come...all because you didn’t floss.
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"I never really thought much of Prime Minister Kamenov. He seemed to be a mild mannered man who unlike his predecessor, Dubinsky, always listened to reason. It also probably helped that in his life before he ran for public office, he'd been a dentist in Smolensk. One of the best apparently, and well known for his gentle demeanor. But for some reason we never hit it off.\n\n​\n\nMaybe it was the fact that I wasn't a fan of his nationalist aims, or the fact that he'd continued with executions and death camps (even though he said in a press conference before our meeting that he'd end the camps and that they had \"no place in a civilized nation like ours.\" But for some reason, he not only didn't take a shine to me, he completely and utterly hated me, and I never knew the reason. At least not until the night they sent nukes to the west coast.\n\n​\n\n\"Honestly, Mr. President, its your teeth. You say in America everything is bigger and better yet your dentists are, how do you say it? They are completely shit. And I don't trust anyone who has that bad of teeth. You never flossed. I can tell. \"\n\n​\n\n\"But is that worth starting World War Three sir?\" I asked. \n\n​\n\n\"Lets just say that your horrible mouth was the tip of the iceberg. By the way, you better get on your flight Mr. President. My generals might be sending something your way.\"\n\n​\n\n​",
"A searing pain flashed along my molars as I bit down into the fleshy grape, followed by the sensation of my teeth being frozen from the inside. Shit. A month of using Sensodyne and they were still growing ever-more sensitive. Lately, I’d been trying to chew gently, but every now and then I forgot, and with the pain came the guilt-inducing echoes of my dentist’s voice in my head.\n\n“Listen to me this time,” he had said during my previous visit, pulling off his mask and leaning in far more than a dentist should. “Listen. You need to floss. No amount of pain tolerance or money can address the damage that may come if you choose to ignore this warning.” His nose had been mere centimetres from mine at this point. His gaping pores were grotesque, his blackheads a constellation stretching from one cheek to the other. *Is this guy insane?* \n\nI’d shuffled out of the clinic quickly, and even as I’d pulled out of the carpark I could hear him yelling after me.\n\n“Floss your teeth! Every day! Every DAAAAAAY.”\n\n​\n\nI vowed that I actually would floss, even if for the simple benefit of less dealings with an all too intense dentist. But the truth is I’m lazy. And now, here I was, reduced to a miserable mess at the mercy of an ache that seemed to radiate from my mouth and across my skull with every bite. \n\nMaybe if I floss more this week, it’ll get better. Maybe I wasn’t so bad at all. I could probably stick it out. I reached for another grape and bit into it carefully.\n\n*Fuck.* It was even worse now. How was I going to eat? I couldn’t even munch on a piece of fruit. I lifted my hand to my mouth and spat out the grape.\n\nNothing came out. *That’s weird. I didn’t swallow it.*\n\nCurious now, I placed another grape in my mouth. Only a second passed before I felt a rush of hot and cold pain, then emptiness. I ran the tip of my tongue along the front of my teeth, marvelling at the juicy grape’s disappearance for a moment. Just a moment - and then a surge of panic emanated from the pit of my stomach and pushed upwards. I reached for the phone and dialled.\n\n“Toothpaste Dental, this is Annie. How can I help you today?”\n\n“Hi Annie, James here. I was hoping to book in for your next available appointment. I usually see Doctor Morrison when I’m there, but I’ve got the weirdest toothache right now so if he’s not—“\n\nShe cut me off. “James Cooper?”\n\n“Yeah.”\n\n“One second.” There was silence, followed by muffled voices and then a soft scratching as the receiver was jostled. \n\n“James.” Doctor Morrison sounded severe, controlled.\n\n“Hey. Yeah I’ve just got this toothache and – ”\n\n“Get here now”.\n\n“Right, uh, okay. Thanks for fitting me in. I’ll—” *Click.* He’d hung up.\n\n​\n\nPulling up to the clinic fifteen minutes later, I could already see Doctor Morrison inside. His face was pressed against the front window as he watched my approach, the glass fogging and clearing with every breath he took. As I went to push the glass door open, he pulled at it, lurched forth and grabbed my arm. \n\n‘Quick. Get inside and take a seat.” He marched me to his room and busied himself, snapping on gloves and hurriedly rearranging his silver instruments while I lay back on the firm leather.\n\n“Doctor Morrison. Do you know—”\n\nHe spun around. Glittering, spectacled eyes locked onto me. He seemed startled, as if I’d interrupted him from a train of deep thought. In a blue latex hand, he grasped a silver sickle probe; in the other, a mouth mirror.\n\n“Do I *know?”* he whispered. “Do I *KNOW?* After everything I’ve been telling you? After all my desperate pleas for you to floss, you don’t think I *KNOW* what could be unfolding right now?” He took a step closer, sickle probe extending towards me in an almost threatening manner. There was a brief pause as he observed me. “So. Tell me what damage has been done so far. What have you lost?”\n\n“Two grapes.”\n\n“Two grapes,” he repeated. “You’re lucky then. Let’s have a closer look.”\n\nHe bent over, tugging the overhead light down and peering into my mouth. I felt the silver metal scratching against my back teeth, pressing down on them and between them. And then…\n\n“Fuck!” Doctor Morrison jumped backwards. His hand was now probe-less and I too let out a yelp as the excruciating sensation overcame me once again. Alarmed, I realised his glove had also disappeared alongside the dental tool. He was shaking. He threw himself over the sink behind him and hurled. When he turned to me again, his look of defeat was undeniable. Slowly, he peeled the other glove from his sweaty fingers and sat heavily on his stool.\n\n“James,” he began after a long pause. “I don’t know if you can fathom what you’ve done, but it may be too late to explain anyway.”\n\nA sprinkle of dust and dry wall crumbed from a section of ceiling above me. I ignored it. “Where did your probe go?” \n\n“It’s gone, and there is much more that will disappear alongside it. Your teeth, James…I know you would never have believed me if I’d said this earlier, but your teeth are portals to another dimension. Vicious portals. Black holes, really.” He stood, crossed to the window and gazed out. The walls around us were now emitting an ominous groaning sound, as if struggling under the weight of the building. “The *enamel* James,” he hissed, “the enamel on your teeth was the only thing standing guard between our world and oblivion, and you’ve allowed it to be eroded by plaque!”\n\n*SNAP.* The computer monitor to my right jolted forward, one of the wires behind it snapping in the process. As if possessed with a life of its own, it strained against its trappings. Doctor Morrison looked at it pensively, and then at me.\n\n“And so it has begun. The pull of your inter dimensional teeth is irresistible to all matter within our universe, and their strength will only grow. The more they take in, the more they will want until the world has been consumed.” A crack appeared across the ceiling and the wall in front of me seemed to bow inwards. “If only I’d seen you earlier this week…we might’ve had a chance to re-mineralise.”\n\nThe papers on his desk began to rise and swirl around the room, compelled by a wind I couldn’t feel. The dust from the crack above me became larger fragments of drywall, raining down, obscuring my vision as the air grew thick with plaster powder. I was being hit in the face with rubble now as whatever sinister force nestled in my gums become more powerful. \n\nIn the chaos, I could hear the wearied laments of Doctor Morrison.\n\n“If only he’d flossed. If only he’d flossed!”"
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[WP] Everyone has one thing they are impervious to. You don't discover yours until the situation arises at the most opportune moment.
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" Brad.\n\nHeckin’ Brad. \n\nIt’s always a Brad, isn’t it? Or Ryan, or Mark, or some retro-inspired name like Biff or Butch or Bulk. Whatever name they were given in those first few precious moments of life when they may have actually been good people, they all shared a name which they later earned: bully. \n\nThe pushers, the liars, the troublemakers and the miscreants, they carefully scanned crowds to determine who they needed to suck up to, and who needed to suck up to them. There are variations on this theme, sure, but Brad, my school’s resident antagonizer, was the quintessential bully archetype, the kind that they’d cast in some dramatic coming-of-age movie. And I wish they’d do that, because it’d at least get him out of here for a few months.\n\nEvery bully has something that enables them in their bullying ways, whether it’s strength or charm or connections. In addition to all that, my particular bully happens to have what every bully aims for, which is an imperviousness to authority. For real. He can be given a direct order and choose not to follow it for whatever reason, and the order and all its consequences for not following it just kinda slide off him like an egg on a greasy skillet. It’s almost admirable until you remember that commands like “Brad, please stop kicking Angela” have no effect on this dude.\n\nHis cronies, who I honestly have had more run-ins with, are a pretty effective team even without Brad at the helm. Lucas (god forbid you call him Luke) is impervious to lies, and Jerry is impervious to fatigue. Lucas can hound you for the money he knows you’ve hidden in your sock while Jerry can hoist you by your ankles and just let you hang there until you either wear out or pass out. Add Brad’s ability to escape the confines of consequences, and the three of them made a triforce of terror.\n\nUsually, Brad, Lucas and Jerry picked on people in very specific ways depending on what that person was impervious to. They made a game out of balancing ice cubes on Amalia, who is impervious to cold and couldn’t figure out why her clothes were always soaked by fourth period. Ian, impervious to the flu, endured an entire season getting a daily sneeze in the face from one of our three lovely contestants. And to this day, they still find the time to torment poor Frankie by sneaking a bee into his backpack. Yeah, Frankie’s impervious to venom, but the guy really likes his bugs so he hates seeing them get all mushed up by his books.\n\nSince I’ve yet to figure out what I’m impervious to, I’ve mercifully not crossed Brad’s radar much, letting Lucas and Jerry bully me in more traditional ways. It probably would have stayed that way, too, if I hadn’t had enough of Frankie trying not to look so depressed after yet another dead bee rolled out of his bag. As Frankie gently picked up the insect’s crumpled body, I shot Brad a glare filled with all the anger and disgust I felt. And before you go calling me a good friend or anything like that, you should probably know that Brad initially wasn’t looking at me. And I really have to stress the word initially, because I am not impervious to bad luck. No, Brad turned and saw me at the exact moment I decided to also cross my eyes and stick out my tongue, which pretty much ended the blissful phase of my life where I was exempt from Brad’s bullying.\n\nImpervious to the pleas of our teacher, Brad decided to abandon the shrewd, calculated approach that he and his sidekicks usually took, and instead lunged toward me, swinging a meaty fist square toward my jaw. I tried to duck but knew I’d be too late, so I braced myself and tried to remember what steak tasted like, since it wasn’t likely I’d be enjoying the sensation of chewing my food for awhile. \n\n*Thwumf.*\n\nThe softest, most underwhelming sound emerged from Brad’s knuckles connecting with my face, and I felt nothing more than what might be called a gentle caress.\n\n*Thwumf, thwumf, thwumf. THWUMF. Thwumf.*\n\nHe kept punching me, over and over, the confusion in his eyes a direct reflection of my own. I knew I wasn’t impervious to punches, or injury, or pain - Lucas and Jerry had seen to that - so why Brad was able to pummel me painlessly was a bit of a mystery.\n\nBrad huffed and stepped back, directing Jerry to take a swing, which he did all too enthusiastically if you ask me. I doubled over in reaction to the gut punch, and collapsed even further from a token kick Lucas aimed my way. Gasping, I staggered to my feet and looked around to see if anyone - Frankie, Ian, Amalia, the teacher - was going to try and rein this in.\n\nBrad Higgins, who had the misfortune of being impervious to sweet tastes while also suffering the shame of sharing a name with Brad the bully, sidled up to me, eyeing the other Brad the whole time. Holding up his hands to demonstrate his submission, Higgins turned toward me and tried to slap my cheek.\n\n*Thwumf.*\n\nHe did it once more for good measure, and had the balls to let out a giggle when the second slap yielded the same results as the first. More and more hesitant laughter followed, with Lucas and Jerry eventually joining in. Brad (the bully one) looked disappointed and evidently decided he was bored, slumping back to his seat. \n\nI took my own, and my pain-riddled brain finally caught up to what was so funny: I was impervious to guys named Brad. Finally joining in the laughter, I laid my head on the desk, relieved to finally know what I was impervious to while simultaneously dreading the creative ways Lucas and Jerry were going to torture me now."
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[WP] In the multiverse there's one version of each thing in each universe and, outside the constrains of any one universe, there is a council that gathers the best version of each being. You are brought to the Council not because you are the best version of youself, but because you are the only one.
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"They sat in cotton robes with wise and withered and often secretive looks on their faces. All of them were gathered around a great bean shaped table that hovered. Brent who had previously been in his living room playing mario kart on his own, now found himself in front of them all. Brent would have liked to finish his bottle of energy drink and slice pizza before suddenly being teleported here. He also would have liked to be dressed. The Collectors just looked and whispered excitedly. Brent was bewildered but soon covered his jewels and started speaking \n\n“excuse me.” Nothing happened “ Excuse me!”\n\nThey all looked up and one Dumbledoorish fellow removed his glasses and started to speak “ yes Brent ?” \n\nBrent’s face was now very red.\n\n“I was just wondering what was going on? am I dead?” the guy looked a bit perplexed checked his notes then asked a question of his own:\n\n“I was under the impression that you were an atheist Brent. Is that incorrect?” brent started blushing. \n\n“ well you know people say things…I mean… it just wasn't really my cup of tea the whole religion thing” they stare blankly “no offence, I'm sure you are all lovely gods, despite all the.… all the, well you know... the thiiings ” they continue to stare, blinking every now and then.\n\n“ oh Christ, your sending me to hell aren't you? Wait no, I uhm I uhm did not mean to use... that word.. in that context” he receives only more curious stares, Brent stares back for a bit. Then suddenly he says “ aaah. This IS hell ” brent then just nods to himself. \n\nThe bald one answers this time “ no this is not hell, just a very awkward interaction. You’re british though, I thought you would be used to those. Well never mind about that. No.. In fact you are very special Brent. We are the Collectors. We collect the best versions of things.” The bald guy then proceeded to explain it all. They were known as the Collectors. They mostly collected people from the multiverse. Only the best versions of people though. Some of their favorites are the Hitler who was a moderately succesfull artist and never hurt a fly. He wasn't too bad actually, but still very….passionate. The Rebecca Black who took a vow of silence one Friday. The Kanye West who truly was his Kanye best. The Bezos who wasn't a complete dick( but still dickish apparently) There was also The Vladimira Putin a transgender ballet dancer. The Mark Zuckerberg who invented something useful instead of mining people's data. The Bin Laden who was a bin man....\n\nafter having heard enough Brent interrupts. “Okay, wait so your saying I'm the best version of me? Well I suppose I was nice to my gran and you know she could be a bit of a b-i-t-c-h. Plus I can be quite interesting and charming. Or so I've been told. Am I going to do some great thing? ” Brent felt a bit more chuffed with himself now. He even put his hands on his hips before remembering about his jewels. \n\nThere were whispers again and baldy started speaking “well actually Brent… you don't have a best version or a worst version of yourself . In fact there was only one of you. Also I have no record of anyone calling you interesting or charming. Well, except for you of course. There is one fellow who said and I quote: “Brent is about as interesting as a wet flannel soaking in the sink.” however, Brent you are the only flannel and we simply must have you! So we decided we would collect you and send you to the best version of the world. Funnily enough, it is one where humans never existed so you could say the Collectors ruined that piece slightly by sticking all you people on there,but never mind” \n\nThe Dumbledore guy interrupts him “ come now Cedric we've already settled that now let it go.”\n\nBrent: “ I don't really fancy this whole perfect earth thing to be honest, so do you mind just sending me back home please?” \n\nBaldy “ oh what a shame, he doesn't fancy it.” \n\nThere are chuckles and amused murmurs \n\nBrent who is tired of the lot of them decided he's had enough and starts walking closer to the table “ well if your going to be twats I HOPE YOU LIKE MY” at this precise moment ben is teleported to the best version of the world and the very first words he says there are “ HAIRY BALLS ON YOUR TABLE.” Brent takes a moment to look around and to his horror finds Queen Elizabeth dropping a tea cup before commenting with a wry smile “ I prefer biscuits with my tea.” Ben turns a perfect shade of beetroot before running to try find an exit with one hand on his junk. His bum however does not escape notice “ or buns” she says while he is still in earshot. A member of security staff stops him before he can get very far and leads him away. He knew the Collectors had done this on purpose,the spiteful gits.\n\n\nBrent tried very hard to explain how he had gotten there and what had happened. But apparently no one else had spoken to or heard of the Collectors. After some serious questioning, and a lie detector, court proceedings the lot they concluded he was skitsophrenic. Brent was sent to a home for the criminally insane. He was shown to his room and cried and slept. when he woke up the next day, It was in his own bed. No time had passed. The pizza was still lukewarm. The energy drink still cold. There was a note on the table, it read very simply:\n\n\n“We have found another Brent. You are worthless after all. All of our balls have touched this note. \n\n\nSincerely the Collectors.” \n\n\n \n\n",
"The halls stretched wider and taller than they had any need to—for humans. Cold metal, painted sterile white, broken by portraits of commanders immemorial in gold-trimmed frames. Vectrons, Falaisias, Jer’hettles: a council led by the finest every universe had to offer.\n\nAnd then there was me.\n\nThey’d been gracious enough to lend me a military jacket to wear over the top of a ruined flight suit, the synth jeans and retro shirt underneath even less appropriate for the occasion. Still, I would have felt out of place regardless, officers of any rank unpleasant to be around. At least some had the decency to treat me like shit to my face. I appreciated that. We both knew I wasn’t gonna strap myself into a death machine because they called me “son” and gave my shoulder a fatherly pat. No, it was those rampaging alien-machine freaks that made me pack up and leave a quiet life in the Martian slums. Oh I didn’t actually have much against them, but, well, the navies were hiring at a good wage and I’d at least die with a full stomach.\n\nAt least, that had been the plan.\n\nThe leader of the council was a tall creature, skin dyed a starry purple and with amber eyes that were small for his size. He had a build that was something of a cross between a gorilla and monkey, long limbed and muscled, no tail. Most of the differences between him and a human happened beneath the skin, as he was bipedal but with a second thumb on each hand instead of a pinky, and the toes had fused into three, tucked away in his boots. Though, at a glance, the posture was what set most aliens apart, and he had rounded shoulders with a ducked neck that, again, reminded me of a gorilla. Not that I had ever seen one in person, but there were books.\n\n“Captain Leonards,” he said, noises converted into a human-like voice, deep, resonating in the metal walls.\n\n“Just Leonards,” I said.\n\nIt always took a second longer when talking to aliens. “Pardon?”\n\n“I’m only a sailor.”\n\n“With all due respect, as the lone survivor of a squadron, I would address you as the acting captain.”\n\n“I would rather you didn’t.”\n\nIt may well have been a sigh, air hissing out the side of the slim mask that covered his mouth. “Very well. Leonards, you are aware of why your presence has been requested, yes?”\n\n“Yes,” I said.\n\n“Very well, then you may begin your report.”\n\nI picked the word carefully, not wanting to be misunderstood. “No.”\n\n“Pardon?”\n\n“No.”\n\nHe leant forward over his desk, heavy arms resting on it, and the others seemed to still. “Is that in reference to my earlier question, that you do not in fact know why you are present?”\n\n“I know why I’m here.”\n\n“Then, what is it that you are denying?”\n\n“I won’t give a report.”\n\nThe silence thick, I could feel the frustration coming out of every muted movement, from the tensing of fists—arms slightly bulging, desk creaking—to the facial muscles tightening. “Do you not understand the situation we are in?” he asked, synthesized voice flat despite the heat I’d heard in the noises he made.\n\n“Oh yes, very much so.”\n\n“We are dying, sailor. Dying by the millions every second. Without hope. You are the first to come out a pitched battle alive. Do you understand that? Of the trillions that have died in such engagements, you are the one who lived.”\n\nI nodded. “Yes, I understand.”\n\n“I don’t think you do. When I say you alone, I mean you alone. We looked for you in every universe and came up empty. Missing in action, from that battle. That again makes you one in a trillion. Rarer than any admiral, any scientist, any single being.”\n\n“Yes, I’m aware.”\n\nThe pause lasted far longer than simple translation lag. “Give us your report, sailor. That is an order from your superior.”\n\n“What good will it do?” I asked.\n\n“It may give us crucial insight—”\n\n“Bull. Shit.” I enjoyed the moment, had dreamt of doing something so stupid and pointless many times before. “Like fuck it will. You have my flight log already. A trillion in a trillion, don’t make me laugh. What, you’re going to weaponise luck? That’s gonna be our next grand plan? Come off it. I’m just here so everyone stops feeling sad, feels like they’re doing something. Special? Me? Nah, you can’t fool me that easy.”\n\nThe silence tasted much more bitter this time. I didn’t think so much of myself to think I’d gotten to them, but I’d dashed that glimmer of hope—the one they knew was fake all along. Officers could climb high through incompetence; not to the top, though.\n\n“Are you quite finished?” he asked.\n\nThere was no anger in the noises he made now, no tension in his face or hands. After all, he’d been angry at himself, not me. Angry because he couldn’t do anything, or angry because he knew this was a waste of time—I didn’t know the guy, so it could’ve been a lot of things.\n\n“Look, you want your morale boost? Throw me back in a ship and I’ll take out a few of ‘em with me. That’s all you’ll get out of me, no matter how much time you waste trying.”\n\nHe sort of shook his head, shoulders turning back and forth while his neck tried to keep his head steady, which I thought was similar to nodding for his race. I didn’t get much multiculturalism until joining the navy. “I did check the flight logs. You truly are a remarkable pilot,” he said.\n\nI shrugged. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”\n\nThe door opened behind me, which I only noticed because of a breeze coming in. “Thank you for your service,” he said.\n\n“Don’t be too sad when you get the report I died.”"
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[WP] The world ran out of color. What now?
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"He approaches you. \"It was always like this. You're just one of the few people to notice the reality of existence. \"\n\n\"I don't understand\" you exclaim as you cross your legs and sit in front of him.\n\nPlacing the fingers of his right hand gently on the earth he whispers.. \"light travels in frequencies not in colour. No colour exists in the real world. The different frequencies that hit the retina of your eyes then activate cones and rods associated to each frequency. That information travels down the nerves of your eyes to the occipital lobe at the back of your brain. And then your mind creates a red apple, this large bo tree, you.. and me.\n\nThe same applies to sound. The world is silent. Different vibrations in air vibrate a tiny drum deep in your ear. Those vibrations then travel as electrical signals to the brain. And your mind interprets that data as sound.\"\n\nYou sit there stunned. \"But wait.. that means..\"\n\nHe smiles. \"That taste, smell, and temperature are illusions as well. Yes. And so is time. With the proper amount of focus and training you can make an apple appear in front of you, or disappear and appear in any place you want. And even change your body. Because like the apple, it too is an illusion of the mind.\"\n\nYou think for a moment.. \"I'm an illusion of my mind?\"\n\n\"You've had dreams haven't you? Who is the real you? The person having fun on a snowy hill with his friends.. or the person fast asleep in his bed?\n\nThe only difference between you and everyone else is that you just woke up. And slowly I will teach you to become the buddha that you really are.\"\n\n\"But dude I'm not a buddha. I'm just a guy reading this crazy story on reddit.\"\n\nA new tab opens up and he guides you to YouTube. In it he types \"The Diamond Sutra\". Gently he smiles as Oblivion by M83 plays in the background. \n\nYou read the words as you lightly smile.\n\n\"Welcome home Subhuti. It's time..\"\n\n\nGet ready for an amazing adventure friend. Happy new year. You're awake."
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[WP] Immortality is granted to those who achieve greatness with the purest of intentions. Mister Death must have made a mistake though, you just lived through the most thrilling bar fight you’ve ever started...
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"Here I am, covered in blood, booze, and broken glass. Whole bar went to hell and I'm the only one who came out unscathed.\n\nWas flirting with this chick at the bar. Had her wrapped around my finger when her boyfriend looks over. Grabbed my hand out of her pants and smashed a bottle against my head.\n\nLike a napalm going off across the bar, the fight spread. The bouncers, the bartender, the patrons, everyone throwing fists, throwing drinks, throwing each other. Blood pooled up, people slipped. One guy tried to make a molotov cocktail, nearly blew up the place.\n\nI was holdin' my own, eventually I get the guy on the ground and kick his head into the wall. Bastard was out cold. Almost had the wind knocked outa me. I try to catch my breath and look around.\n\nBlood, booze, and broken glass.\n\nEveryone is either knocked out, writhing in pain, or dead. I hear sirens in the distance. Might as well clean up.\n\nA pile of bodies blocks the mens room door on either side, so I settle for the ladies room. Once inside I see a girl standing at the sink. She's trying to wipe away blood and cover her black eye with makeup. She turns from the mirror and looks at me. Her eyes widen and her jaw drops. I wipe blood from my lip and say \"Baby, I know I look good, but it's not polite to stare\".\n\nShe backs away from the sink so I can use it. I splash cold water on my face. Blood circles into the drain, along with bits of hair and spit.\n\nI try to run my hair under the faucet, but I'm stopped by clanking sound followed by a searing pain rushing through my head. Looking into the mirror I see the neck of a glass bottle sticking from my skull, blood still streaming out. I reach for it, hoping to pull it out, only to find that my right thumb is missing. I turn to look at the girl, her face still hasn't change.\n\nSuddenly I feel a chill run up the leangth of my spine, followed by the sounds of bones hitting each other like windchimes. In front of me appears a hooded figure in a tattered black cloak. The girl continues to look at me, not acknowledging the mysterious figure floating between us.\n\nAs I look around, trying to get a grip on myself and my surroundings, I notice the knife stuck just under my ribs.\n\nIt's all making sense now. They way I've lived my life, I'm shocked that he hasn't gotten to me sooner. I look into the blackness where a face should be under his hood. The figure extends his hand toward me.\n\n\"It's about time\" I say, preparing myself for death's touch.\n\nHe closes his hand into a fist and says \"Dude...that was fucking sick\" as he shakes his fist at me.\n\nI stand there and slowly raise my fist to his. We bump and he fades away.\n\nThe sirens are right outside the bar. I turn to the girl, who seems to be adjusting to the situation. \"So, what are you doing tonight?\"",
"“Look, please, there has to be some kind of mistake,” he said pinching the bridge of his nose. “Did you see what I just did out there?” he said waving his arm, for a given value of arm at the piles of splintered wood and broken bodies inside the tavern. \n\n\n\n“Tell me that isn’t greatness.” He stood up from the ground, and stared at the mask of Death.\n\n\n\nGesturing broadly at the city, he said “Look at it all! I’ll be remembered in songs for this, people will tell their kids about this! I have spent years being someone, being great, and to be lain low like this?” Death remained impassive.\n\n\n\nThe man gazed down at his ruined form once more. A lucky blow from a bottle must have clipped him from behind, thrown after he had left. His hands could break rocks and his arms could lift boulders, his face a pastiche of scars held together by sinew. He was a legend among the small and crooked.\n\n\n\nQuieter now, “I know the rules. It isn’t meant to happen like this, in the cold.” he stared at the implacable mask with reproach. “It isn’t meant to happen at all. I did what I did with the noblest intentions. I didn’t care if I was mocked,” he spat. “I did all that I did because it was right.”\n\n\n\nThe thing before him bent over to be face to face with him.\n\n\n\n**“Indeed? You did what was right. How many others would claim that title? And how many would be correct in doing so.”**\n\n\n\n“Don’t try that with me. I swore my oath and upheld it to the best of my abilities. Beyond, even.” He saw his blue coat turn red in the gaslight. “I achieved greatness. I deserve what is owed.” He pointed at him again. “There is still more to do. There is always more. Others have done less and still found worthy, why am I left to the side when I can do more.”\n\n\n\n**“Others have done more, and died still the same. Some have done less and still been great. I do not judge. Those who live and those who die matter not to me. I am the reaper, it matters not the harvest, only that it is reaped.”**\n\n\n\n\nDeath crouched before the man. **“Worry not, people will sing songs and tell their kids about you. They will grow and strive to be you. And they will die too.”**\n\n\n\n“Then what's the point? I fought because those in there needed to be fought, and I die while worse live? And because we all eventually die that makes it all right? What’s the point of striving to be great when it doesn’t matter?” He sighed. \n\n\n\n**“Some would say the striving is what matters,”** Death Shrugged\n\n\n\n\n“Well, they would say that wouldn’t they.” He gestured. “Still, it is a pity it had to come like this.” He shrugged his now unblemished greatcoat back on and stepped away.\n\n\n\n**“I can assure you pity does not factor into it.”**\n\n\n\n“Nevertheless,” He looked back at death as he walked away, “How close was I? Y’know, to being immortal.”\n\n\n\nAs Death faded away like so much else he heard him reply, **“Until your memory dies away, until your deeds are forgotten and your greatest works undone, consider yourself pretty damn close. For a short while, You shall be immortal. Be proud, for that is more than many get.”**\n"
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[WP] You are a gunfighter in the Old West hired to protect miners from claim jumpers. Everything is going smoothly until one day when the miners are attacked by something from WITHIN the mine.
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"It wasn't uncommon for the miners to brawl. In fact, I'd say it was expected; at least that's what I'd come to learn from watching the men. To be honest, I can't say I blame them. The working conditions are shit; dark tunnels and cold stone. Depending on your shift, you might find yourself heading into the mine right around sun-up and not making it out until dinner and miss seeing the sun the whole day. Gimme a week of that, I bet you that I'd strike a man for nothing, too.\n\nPersonally, I found that it was healthy to let them get a few hits in before I broke it all up. It was decent stress relief, and as long as nothing breaks, I've found that men have an amazing ability to forget about something like casual assault. Just a week ago, two men that got into a spat over a lantern were seen arm-around-shoulder drinking and singing together in that camp saloon that same night.\n\nSo you'll understand me when I say that when I heard one of the boys had been attacked in the mine, I didn't exactly rush off. I thanked the lad that had come to find me and took a second or six to finish my whiskey. I exited through the burlap flap-door of the saloon and saw that, curiously, almost the entire current shift of miners were outside the tunnel, each one staring into the dark mouth of the mine. \"What's goin' on here?\", I called out to them.\n\nSome of them turned to face me, but most were transfixed on the tunnel. As I stepped closer to the group I could here them whisperin', soft mutters to the men beside them. \"I think Author got grabbed my something\" one of them finally said. \n\nNow, them tunnels were spooky, I'm not afraid to admit it. Your eyes play tricks on you in the low light, and echoes from all the different tunnels bounce off the walls. Every now and then a man gets spooked. But never like this.\n\n\"Alright then.\" I said, resting my hand on the revolver that sat snug on my left hip. \"Who was with him?\"\n\n\"I was.\" came the same voice.\n\n\"And you attacked him?\"\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\n\"Who did?\"\n\nNo reply came.\n\n\"Where were you boys? Which tunnel?\"\n\n\"The deep one. We'd been working on a new branch. Something grabbed him and I ran.\"\n\n\"Alright then\" I said again. This was an unusual case. Normally I'd have told the boy to just go get some rest, but normally they didn't bring the entire shift out of the cave with 'em. Whatever had happened had spooked more than just him. \n\nI grabbed a lantern from one of the men and, holding it out with my right hand, stepped into the tunnel and started my walk towards the deep branches. \n\nIt was something eerie like I ain't ever known; a mine gone quiet like that. My paw had told me something like that once, how a silence like that can be deafening. I guess he was right though, because by the time I heard Author wailin' and moanin', I couldn't figure out how I hadn't heard the man before.\n\nI stood a moment, listening to him. I heard him cry for me, moaning out my name, beggin' Buck to come save him. Then he'd cry for his mother, weep for her to take him away. Then he wailed somethin' fierce, and it must'a echoed through the whole mine. He was silent for a moment, and then I heard my name come echoing up the tunnel again, heard him stuttering out the 'B' between sobs somewhere in the pitch black dark of the mine.\n\nI drew my gun and I held it out next to the lantern. \n\nThis wasn't right.\n\nI wanted to call out to Author.\n\nBut I didn't.\n\nI found the deep tunnel and made my way through it, taking each step slow and silent. Towards the end I could see it, a new branch of the tunnel cuttin' deeper into the stone. I set the lantern down in the mouth of the new tunnel and put my back to the wall. Slowly, I moved my head around and looked down the tunnel.\n\n\"...Buck.\"\n\nAuthor was there.\n\nI saw him there, pinned onto the wall of the cave by two pickaxes through the thickest parts of each arm, leavin' his feet danglin' in open air a foot off the cave floor. The light from the lantern was just enough to catch a glow in his eyes.\n\n\"Author, my God. Who did this?\"\n\n\"...Buck.\"\n\n\"Author, it's going to be okay, alright.\" I moved a step into the tunnel. \"I'm gonna get you down from there, ya hear?\" I took another step towards him. I could see it then, all the blood pooled down at his feet. Some of it drained down the wall of the cave, but some of it was drippin' from his feet; he was barefoot, and somethin' had slashed his ankles.\n\n\"...Buck.\"\n\n\"I'm here, Author, I've got you.\"\n\n\"...We dug too deep.\""
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[WP] The last thing you remember is falling asleep in front of CNN, just as the first photos of Ultima Thule from NASA's New Horizons probe were being received. You just woke up: your phone has 12 missed EMERGENCY ALERTs and through a gap in the curtains you can see several rocket trails in the sky.
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"It was around 6:00 pm when i went to sleep so of course i woke up a few times during the night to a odd noise but like normal i just wrote it off and went back to sleep then i woke up the next morning and saw my phone and read the words \"This is a emergency alert, please stay ins...\" 12 times, so out of curiosity i looked out the window and saw several rocket trails in the sky and then i ran every where in my home looking for food and grabing water, by time i was done 30 minutes had passed and i had calmed down eneugh to remember that i had not seen what had happened on the new about that probe, somthing about a few pictures from it then i remember that the last thing i heard before passing out was somthing about there being life out there, i then grabed my phone and unlocked it and read one of the alerts \"This is a emergency alert, please stay inside and lock and doors and window and if you have a celler or basement and do not come out until an alert is sent out that it is fine\" and in fear i went to google and looked up last nights cnn news story and skiped to the part where they show the picture and what i saw horified me and chilled me to my core cause what i saw was a massive ship belived to be around the size of mexico headed strait towrds earth. (Sorry if there are any errors in my writing but i am writing half of this in a car)",
"Brace Yourselfs because my english sucks.\n\nYou barely remember anything. You where watching CNN when everything blacked out. Now the sky is dark, and lines cover it up. Something is wrong.\n\nAs you slowly get up from the coach you fell asleep for what feels like millenia, you take a peak at the sky. Its covered in lines, like you have never seen before. You look at the clock and its 12pm. The sun is not rising, and the darkness outside awaits for your arrival. As you wander around your house, searching for answers, you find your phone. You cant remember leaving it there at all. 12 Emergency Alerts. Non of them you remember being there before.\n\nYou walk to the window again, this time you look to the street, as you see your neighbours fleeing away. Something is wrong, you think again, as you start walking towards the living room. Satelite TV seams to be gone, along with everything else. But a light of hope shines, as you discover everything got recorded onto the VCR. The recording leaves more questions than answers, but you dont have time to think about it, you need to get going. The Doomsday is upon us, and it came in a way no one expected. \n\nYou grab your keys and run outside to your car. Driving down the road you start feeling bad, getting worse the further away you drive from home. Reality is collapsing on itself, as time slows down. Then the lights came, and took you away forever. \n\nYou wake up on your coach, CNN is still on and reporting about the failure of new horizons. You look outside, and the lines are gone, and so is the darkness. Only one thing is off. A text on your phone. \"Welcome to Ultima Thule\"",
"No one really knew how long they had planned this. We all heard the stories growing up. The tinfoil covered stories that lined the weirdest parts of YouTube you would find yourself lost in after your midnight snack. \n\nAll of the warning signs were there. 400 page bills passed with only the first 20 talked about. The usual stuff, tax breaks, weapon bans, trade agreements and which country to hate this term. As people of this Nation, we were used to it. Numb to it. We wanted an out, an escape...\n\nWe just never thought the wool we saw in front of everyone’s eyes was just the reflection of ours...\n\n\n————————————————————————\n\nI woke up to some drama jockey spouting absurd explicits on the TV. It looked like one of those stock market wrap up shows that pop on once the market closes, but it was still morning. Apparently the photos weren’t that big of a deal, considering I passed out for a few hours\n\nI check my phone, to my surprise it was a little past 11am. As I unlocked my phone to check the array of drama reporting “Social Media” apps I have, it began to vibrate and screech a noise you only hear when some dude kidnaps his kids for a weekend. \n\n Between the harsh noise and what seemed to be every warning message coming through at once, it was all too confusing. What could cause a Tornado warning and a evacuation notice to both inhabit the same screen? Seems counter intuitive.\n\nAs I started to open them, it seemed to be every warning system was triggered in some sort of fail safe attempt at letting the populace know, shit ain’t right. \n\nI get my phone to finally go silent, just to hear weeping coming from the TV. The host of some talk show is laying on his desk, clothes torn and dirty with his hair ajar, weeping. \n\nThe green screen in the back was showcasing photo reels and videos of the smoke trails throughout the sky. I didn’t understand. I blamed the nap I took on me being out of it still, so I wiped my face and looked closer at the ticker tape.\n\n“NASA: Photo evidence confirmed Ultima Thule approximate match to Earth, able to sustain life”\n\nWell thank god, maybe I can finally get off this planet and leave the idiots here. \n\n“Government to begin final loading procedure” \n\nWait.....what? What were they loading? \n\n“White House staffer reveals video of high ranking members of society being met with, buying tickets off world.”\n\nNo...no no no no no. Don’t tell me. \n\n————————————————————————\n\nBroadcast was cut. I remember running to the window to look at the sky, seeing trails of smoke in every direction, like lines in the sand. In a fleeting moment of clarity, it all hit me...\n\nThose tinfoil hat stories were true. Those weren’t normal fume trails, those were rocket trails. Not just rockets, but ships off world. In a matter of hours we leaped from space observers to space colonizers. But it wasn’t “we”. It was them, the ones who made sure to keep people in the pecking order. The ones who enforced rules on already subjected masses. \n\nThe ones who we thought were close to harmless, they left us. Left us in a world broken and shattered. They hit the reset button, but abandoned those who put them in place...\n\n\n\n\n\n\nPlease be gentle, first time! ",
"​\n\n Systems: Online\n System Check: \n - Reboot Successful\n - Senses Functional\n - Weapons OK (Disarmed)\n Run Mode 2? (remote prompt: Yes)\n\n\"Dude, are you OK?\" asked a distant, strange voice. A sharp pain stretched from the top of my head down to the middle of my spine. I looked up through watery eyes to see a man of around 20 years of age looking down at me, his mouth agape in horror.\n\n\"I'm not sure\" I said. The carpet on which I was laying was wet, sticky, and warm. My eyes buzzed into focus. My legs were drenched in human blood. \n\n\"Whose blood is this?\" I asked. The man on the couch did not reply. He merely sat and stared. \n\n\"Who are you?\" I asked. \n\n\"I'm Damien, your roommate?\" He ended his sentence as if asking himself the question. \"I think you need a hospital. I think you lost *all* your blood, also your...\"\n\nOutside, through a gap in the curtains, several trails of rockets led into the sky. The booming of distant explosions rattled the windows.\n\n\"My what?\" I asked\n\nThe human Damien struggled to find the words \"An antenna, or something, is sticking out of your spine and through your head.\"\n\nThe memories of my mission briefing returned. \"Yeah that's fine. It's all part of the protocol.\"\n\n\"The what?\" He said stammering. \"What the hell is going on Steve?\"\n\nOn my phone were twelve missed EMERGENCY ALERTS. Only twelve? I thought. There should be more here by now. \n\nI stood up and my mechanics felt strong. The ten-year old technology, left dormant while I infiltrated the enemy, still functioning. My human skin shed from the my Chromium frame. Apparently shocked by this, the Damien ran off. \n\nMy mission was easy, transmit the map information I had gathered over the last few years onto the incoming ships using my antenna. The best reception would be found at location B-873, or Tent Hill as the local inhabitants called it.\n\nThe streets were chaos, much different that the usual peace. My appearance must have been strange because looters in the middle of breaking windows or stealing TVs would stop to stare at me as I passed. Behind me as I walked to my objective, a mob gathered. Their numbers grew, and they yelled. The Damien was with them.\n\n\"That's one of them!\" I heard him say \"I saw him turn into **THAT** right in front of me as soon as the attacks started.\"\n\nI felt something ding against my antenna, then something else. They were hurtling projectiles at me.\n\n System Alert: Under Attack\n Weapons Activate? (local prompt: Yes)\n Weapons: \n - Stun (local prompt:No)\n - Disarm (local prompt:No)\n - Maim (local prompt:No)\n - Burn (local prompt:No)\n - Vaporize (local prompt:No)\n - Deploy Secondary Drones (Recommended) (local prompt:Yes)\n\n\"What the hell are those things?\" Someone yelled from the mob. A panic of screams mixed with the humming and snipping of the drones filled the street. \n\nThanks to the defences, I walked without much incident to my objective, only needing to step over the odd body that had been cleared for me by my drones. There was however trouble at the hill top. The military had been made aware of my presence and I could see them waiting in ambush. Clearly visible once I switched my vision to the upper scale of UV. \n\n Weapons:\n - Mind Control (Not Recommended) (local prompt:Yes)\n\nThe discharge of weapons clattered over the hilltop as the men waiting in ambush turned on one another. In a crazed lunacy they seethed at the mouth to spill any blood. Few survived, and those that did, ran away from the melee looking for victims. One ran right towards me, screaming with a knife above his head. But he went right by, and found Damien who had been stalking me since the drone incident. \n\nNow unimpeded, I made the objective point.\n\n Transmit? (local prompt:Yes)\n Transmitting...\n\n​"
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[WP] Nearly every abused retail worker knows of the Messiah - the one prophesied to save them all from minimum wage. You’re a new retail worker who doesn’t know what the fuck is going on.
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"On Sunday morning at Southwest Airlines check-in counter, Rachelle was praying to Customer Service Jesus to deliver her from the evil thoughts that kept coming to her head about all these fussy travelers.\n\n\\*\\*No, you can’t buy a ticket for an already full flight. No, I am not trying to ruin your family vacation. No, I don’t have anything against you personally, or even really know who you are. Yes, you can write a review about this on the internet. Yes, you can speak to my manager. Please wait over there while I serve the next customer.\\*\\*\n\nA college girl in sweatpants stood past the yellow line, eagerly staring at Rachelle, asking to be called forward. Rachelle took a deep breath and looked out at the line. She was technically entitled to her break right now, but it was getting packed and she didn’t want to dump all the work on her co-workers.\n\nShe saw a man just coming around the curve of the line, still about ten customers back. He was crying—a grown man. Tears streaked his face, drying against his neck and shirt collar. He looked like a tomato with an unkempt hairstyle. His belt didn’t match his shoes. There was snot on his wrist. He had to be mid-40s. \n\nRachelle had seen this before. She saw it all too often.\n\n“Sir,” she said, loud and clear, with a pointed gaze at the man. He didn’t look up, but the nervous passengers around him did.\n\n“Can you ask him if he wants to come to the front?” Rachelle said to the nervous passengers next to the man. Immediately understanding, the woman in front of him poked his shoulder with her check-in documents and relayed the message.\n\nThe man barely seemed to register that she was speaking, but he must have heard her because he ducked under the cordon and walked unsteadily to Rachelle’s check-in station. The eyes of a hundred passengers followed him. The college girl at the front of the line glared at him, mouth agape.\n\n“Where do we need to get you to honey?” Rachelle asked the man.\n\n“I need to get home…” the man said, “My mom… she… they just told me an hour ago.”\n\n“Is she gonna be okay?” Rachelle said carefully.\n\nThe man didn’t say anything. After a pause, he shook his head curtly ‘no’.\n\n“Oh honey,” Rachelle said, “I’m so sorry.” She touched her hand to her heart. The man stared at the ground. \n\n“I’m so so sorry,” she said. “What city, honey?”\n\n“Shreveport,” the man said, still not looking up.\n\nClickety-clack on the keyboard.\n\n“There’s no more flights to Shreveport today,” Rachelle began.\n\nThe man winced.\n\n“But I can get you New Orleans,” she said, “And there’s buses every half hour from the airport to Shreveport.”\n\n“Thank you,” he said, looking her in the eyes for the first time. He held out his credit card, hands-shaking, and dropped it. It bounced off a folded inventory packet and was headed to the floor when Rachelle trapped it against her leg.\n\n“Got it!” Rachelle said, holding up the card, trying to get the man to smile. He gave a single, odd, phlegm-choked laugh and then looked back at the floor, turning red again.\n\n“Is there a discount for…” the man began, “Can I get the brvmnt fare?” He mumbled the words softly.\n\n“Yes honey,” Rachelle said, “The bereavement fare is $120.97, the normal fare would’ve been $241.94. We’ll get you to New Orleans in just two hours from now, but you’re gonna have to be quick gettin to the gate. I’ll write you this here note, you can show to security and they’ll skip the line for you. You ask anybody in a Southwest shirt for anything and they’ll help you. I mean it honey, you need water, snacks, somebody to talk to, anything, we’re here for you.”\n\nThe man looked at her with a pained expression. He mouthed the words ‘Thank you’, slid his ticket off the counter, accepted Rachelle’s hand-scribbled note for security, and slinked off towards the departure hall.\n\nRachelle took a deep breath. She watched the man leave and hoped that he would find comfort somewhere. This was heavy. She needed her break. Her teammates would understand.\n\n“Excuse me ma’am,” a rude voice said.\n\nRachelle turned to see the college girl in sweatpants standing in front of her station, jiggling her passport over the counter impatiently.\n\nRachelle raised her eyebrows. “Why hello ma’am?”\n\n“Ma’am?” the college girl said, getting angry. “I’m 19.”\n\n“I’m 23, honey.” Rachelle said. She regained her composure and switched to her customer service voice. “In the future, we please ask that you wait behind the yellow line until called to the front.”\n\nShe took the girl’s passport and began typing in her information.\n\n“Why did that guy get to cut?” the girl said. “I was next.”\n\n\\*\\*Lord, give me strength\\*\\* Rachelle prayed. \\*\\*Customer Service Jesus, please give me the strength to not slap the silly out of this bitch.\\*\\*\n\nShe took a deep breath.\n\n“He wasn’t well,” Rachelle said. “He needed our support. And because you and the other customers were so patient and decent and let him go first, he’s gonna feel just a little bit better in his time of need.”\n\n“Oh,” the college girl said, weighing the explanation. She relaxed a little. “Sorry I just… didn’t understand.”\n\nThe tension disappeared entirely. Rachelle smiled. She always recognized Customer Service Jesus’ work.",
"*Ok, that answers the question on whether this place drug tests*, I thought to myself.\n\nTod, my trainer, was in the middle of explaining the critical points of stacking cans of vegetables. Some of them didn't interlock (why the fuck not?), making it tough sometimes.\n\n\"It's only a matter of time before the chosen one comes anyway and we'll finally be respected for the knowledge we have.\"\n\nI didn't think much of it until I overheard two people in the dairy cooler mention it again. Something about it all being worth it when the Chosen One comes.\n\n\"What are you guys going on about?\" I eventually inquired. It was maddening, like some kind of in-joke I wasn't in on.\n\n\"Well, do you work Friday?\"\n\n\"Yeah, more training on the computer terminal.\" It wasn't really anything earthshattering, just your basic liability stuff and customer service propaganda everyone has to watch before they can be signed off as trained. To be fair, almost a quarter of people they hired didn't even last that long.\n\n\"You'll see.\"\n\nFriday dawned on the first day of the month, the parking lot awaiting the rush of customers eager to spend their Social Security checks.\n\nI logged into the computer and began watching what ultimately turned out to be an infomercial for a box-cutter, when all employees were called to the front of the store for a huddle. When I arrived, I was greeted by the sight of two of the stock crew blocking and barring the doors with large wooden pallets.\n\nMy boss stood up on one of these, and proclaimed, \n\n\"Today is the day! Word has arrived from the top that we're not doing business today! The salaried managers are done exploiting us! For too long we've shattered our knees on these concrete floors for no gratitude other than a pittance! Half of us are on food stamps that further subsidize the managers' golf outings! The moment we fall behind due to injury or weakness our hours are cut and we're discarded like trash! Cuts made to benefits in the name of stockholders return-on-investment have left us no choice! Our brothers in other stores are with us today! Until our demands are met, *NO ONE WILL EAT*. The Chosen One has come! We are One from many!\n\n*Oh, hell yeah, I didn't realize this place was unionized.*\n\n"
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To simplify, lets say the knowledge of your power is a well known secret. Nobody says it out loud, but they know. If they catch you, they will use you. So be quick and be cunning.
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[WP] Woops, you are magic now. If somebody says a certain phrase or captures you, you must now grant their wishes. You cannot grant your own wishes. Tell us about your day.
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"I am standing in the rain. I have my favourite t-shirt on with a bulky black coat. I lean against the sign for the bus stop and get out my phone. I start scrolling through my social media, Instagram, Reddit, Twitter. The bus is meant to be here at 1:10AM and it's only half past midnight.\n\nI catch something in the corner of my eye, in my peripheral vision. Two men in the front of a car, driving slowly past. Both are staring at me, in black suits. 'Shit, do they know?' I think to myself. 'No way, only my friends know. Anyone would stare at a 17 year old standing in the rain in the dead of night.'\n\nThey drive closer, slowly and then the driver rolls their window down. 'Hey kid, want a lift?' He says in a stiff but nice tone of voice. 'Nah thanks, I'm fine.' I reply quickly. 'I think you should.' His tone quickly changes to threatening.\n\nEither they don't know who I am and just want to kidnap a random kid, or, most likely, they want to use me.\n\nI start sprinting down the road and hear the driver shout something. I look behind me and see the two of them chasing me. 'What do I do? What do I do?!' I shout at myself in my head.\n\nI dart into the road and start running across. I look behind and see the two men, gaining. I get to the end and-- I trip on the curb and fall flat on my face.\n\n(To be continued...)\n\nCool idea for a prompt! Going to continue this now, wanted to separate it so it isn't just giant."
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[WP]: Every birthday, people have to battle a monster to survive another year. As you enter the coliseum, the audience roars to witness your 100th birthday.
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"\nThe scent of rot and old sweat assailed Keira’s nose. Looking up from the small book open on her lap, she saw a Shambler was approaching. The piteous creature—a cobbled-together porridge of human parts joined with silicon and plastic—limped towards her. Its beady, too-bright eyes in depthless sockets were fixed on her.\n\nEventually it reached her and stopped, then warbled, “Five minutes remain, Ms. Forsythe. The horn will sound when you are needed.”\n\n“Thank you,” Keira said. The creature croaked an acknowledgement, turned around and shambled back the way it had come.\n\nThough it had gone, the Shambler’s repulsive scent lingered. A younger human’s eyes would have started watering from the puissant stench.\n\nKeira closed her eyes, inhaled, and smiled. The smell didn’t repulse her. It reminded her of past birthdays. Of past victories in the arena. Keira had always won. The Shamblers had always been present.\n\n“Sweet rising sun, Keira. Would you like to wear that thing’s stench as a perfume, perhaps?”\n\nKeira’s eyes snapped open. Ludek. Another hundredth birthday contender. The only other one such.\n\n“What are you doing here, Ludek? Run out of shit to eat? Maybe you’re on a liquid diet?”\n\nThe little man stepped into the pre-battle room. He grinned, winked, bowed, and said, “Never. I’ve just decided to try talking to my meal for a change.”\n\nKeira’s face darkened. Her drill-arm started to whirr. Ludek’s expression hardened and he stepped back.\n\n“Now, now. There will be plenty of violence soon enough. I’ve come to you with... an offer.”\n\nStepping back again into the darkness of the hallway, Ludek yanked violently on a chain attached to his belt. With a yelp, a young woman was drawn stumbling into the harsh light of the pre-battle chamber. She was naked save for the chain around her neck. Her skin was mottled in bruises and her left eye was swollen shut. Her eyes met Keira’s, searching for... what?.\n\nTilting his head and grinning, Ludek gave the chain a vicious yank. The woman sprawled on the floor, clutching her throat and wheezing.\n\n“This is Lydia. She is eighteen, has won eight battles in the arena, and she has just had a child.”\n\nEyes wide, mouth pouting—miming the face of an infant—Ludek whined, “His name is David, and he would dearly like to live!” Ludek yanked the chain again, grinning, “But, you know, he might not.”\n\nKeira shot up from her seat and took three steps towards Ludek; her drill-arm whining as it spun up again and her left-arm pincer clicking with promise.\n\nLudek held up his hand and raised his eyebrows.\n\n“Ahh! So. You wish the wretch and her wretch-welp to live. Well, the match time approaches, so let’s be quick about this... The offer is simple and clear: let the monster kill you in the arena today; forfeit your ninetieth bout, but make it a convincing loss. Do this, and I will marry this wretched thing. When I win my fight, she will be immune to future battle drafts. She will never have to fight again. She and her son will live in luxurious safety for... forever.”\n\nLudek pulled his lips back, showing his canines.\n\n“But, win your bout today, and I will cut this poor thing’s hands off. No one will care. I will throw her to the outskirts, to the nameless hordes. She and her child will perish, and though it will not be your fault, dear Keira, it will nevertheless be the direct result of a decision you made.”\n\nKeira stood in shock, half-way through her forth step towards the miserable hundred-year old man standing in the hallway. Her throat was suddenly dry.\n\n“...Why?” she croaked out.\n\nLudek’s expression reset, becoming earnest and serious.\n\n“We are the first centennials since the battles began. You and I. Your bout is before mine today. If you win, you will descend through history, while I will be a footnote. An unimportant second-of.”\n\nLudek shook his head and said, “That just won’t do.”\n\nA horn sounded, calling Keira to fight. Over top of it, Ludek shouted, “I will know your answer to my offer by your actions on the field.”\n\nYanking on the chain, Ludek departed away down the hallway, leading his battered captive behind him.\n\n---\nKeira stepped onto the sands of the coliseum as the announcer’s voice boomed over the stadium microphones and the audience roared in anticipation. \n\nShe was Keira Forsythe. She was a legend, an icon to the crowds in the stands, most of whom were under twenty and many of whom would never reach thirty. Most would die in the sands, having spent their lives working to qualify for loans to purchase expensive bio-tech to supplement their fighting abilities.\n\nAcross the arena, the monster entered. Covered in plates of steel, it appeared to be no more than a simple mechanical battle drone.\n\nIt was the nature, not the appearance, of the creature that made it monstrous.\n\nThe announcer’s voice boomed again. Lights flashed. The crowed roared in a thundering din and the battle was begun.\n\nKeira’s face was impassive. Just another birthday; just another monster.\n\nThe monster shot its left-arm grapple into the cheering crowd, skewering an onlooker with the hook and dragging the helpless soul onto the sands for evisceration. Bathed in blood and effused with battle-lust after its first kill, the monster lurched towards Keira.\n\nWith Ludek’s offer lurking in the corners of her mind, Keira raised her face and screamed to the coliseum, “Eighty-nine dead behind him, and this wanker thinks he’s gonna be the hot-shit mutant that gets one over on me, eh?!”\n\nNearly no one in the crowd heard her, but those who did went berserk, spittle flying from their mouths as they chanted Keira’s battle anthem.\n\n“DRILL BABY, DRILL!”\n\nThe monster shifted from a lurch to a sprint and barrelled towards her, its feet flying across the sand. Keira waited until the last second before it reached her, then effortlessly dodged to the side; her bio-tech implants thrumming and vibrating.\n\nLightning quick, the mutant halted and spun about, using its momentum to direct a slash at Keira’s leg with its right-arm blade. Keira raised her left-arm and the pincer snapped.\n\nThe monster screamed—an inhuman sound—as its blade-arm fell to the sand. Keira stepped in closer, feeling the heat of the monster near her cheek. Her skeleton vibrated as her right-arm drill spun-up to its maximum RPM and the crowd roared in rapture, sensing eminent death.\n\nAn image forced its way across her vision. Ludek’s haunted, beaten captive; her eyes pleading noiselessly for her life and her child’s. Keira’s motion paused.\n\nThe monster’s attack was immediate and savage. Keira reacted, but not quickly enough; the monster’s grapple shot past her head in a scream. Blood spurting from the open wound where her ear and left-side scalp had been, Keira backed away in a crouch, breathing heavily but ready for the monster’s follow-up.\n\nThe monster began circling Keira, trying to trip her up as its grapple retracted. Keeping her eyes on the monster’s visor slit, Keira reached down with her pincer-arm and snipped again. The broken chain continued retracting into the monster’s arm while the grapple lay uselessly on the sand.\n\nThe crowd’s volume magnified; they sensed an end approaching. Both of the monster’s weapons had been removed.\n\nThe monster charged its final charge, trumpeting a battle cry as it powered across the space between it and its one hundred year-old adversary. Keira continued to crouch, motionless; a battle raging within her to equal the one in the arena.\n\nThe monster reached her, slamming into her with force and throwing her to the ground. Instantly it was on top of her, using the shredded steel ends of its arms to gouge her face and body armour. Keira’s pincer-arm raised, her drill-arm began to revolve; and, then, they ceased. The monster continued to tear at her. Blood spattered the sand around her, and bits of gore began to spray the nearest arena-onlookers.\n\nThe referee called the fight. A hush fell among the arena’s attendees. Silence rang throughout the grounds. The monster was recalled to its den in the arena dungeon pits. Keira’s pummelled body was gathered up and removed from the field. The next bout began.\n\n---\nBright lights. The sharp smell of antiseptic. Steely arms moving about her, cutting, slicing, repairing. What was her name? Keira. The fighter. One hundred years old.\n\n---\nBright lights. The iron-smell of blood. A foul-smelling, shambling, loathsome thing was leading her by a chain towards an arena portcullis; the arena sands lay beyond. Heavy steel lay on her, and she could feel the thrum of bio-tech and nano-bots powering her as she moved forward.\n\nSand, roars, and a lonely figure on the opposite side of the arena greeted her. A figure waved from high in the stands.\n\nLudek.\n\nNext to him, a forlorn woman in fine robes held an infant. Both had bruises upon them.\n\nThe figure opposite waved its arms and crowed to the arena, “ANOTHER BIRTHDAY, ANOTHER MONSTER!”"
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[WP] The apocalypse as it turns out was not a singular event, but all the end days from all religions, media and myths coming true at once, the only reason you are still alive is the fact that the warring gods and demons keep unintentionally cancelling out each other's apocalypse.
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"Where do I begin? The last few days were quite ridiculous but now its just plain funny. The world feels like a book full of bad cliches, the only difference is that almost no one got hurt in the \"apocalypse\". Here is a quick recap of yesterday: one of the gods decided to end the world with a biblical genocide, namely flood. Moment before the 30-40 meters tall bodies of water hit the cities, came the third ice age, instantly freezing the water. The ice age was around 2 minutes long when the sun decided to go full supernova and melted it down in less then half an hour, but right when it finished heating the Earth back up and eventually melting it, came the eternal darkness or whatnot. The news said one city was almost raided by Godzilla, only that the poor thing got hit in the head by a meteor. Sometime there was some alien ships incoming to \"harvest our eyeballs for their mating ritual\" but they only found zombies. They were so incredibly pissed that they developed and used the cure on people. Poor space-bastards were than eaten by dinosaurs. Currently there are nuclear missiles coming towards me, but I'm too tired to care. They will either turn to whales or get eaten by Cthulhu. "
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Alternatively, your case may be in defense of Santa.
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[WP] You've gathered the facts and evidence, and now it's time. Your case against Santa Clause for violating countless patents and trademarks begins.
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"\"We've got him this time.\" Mickey said to the other brands sitting on the many *many* benches in the court room \"That sick sonofabitch is finally going to get what's coming to him. Ah! The man of the hour! Mr. Dick how are you? Is everything in order?\"\n\n​\n\n\"Please, call me Tracy, and yes everything's in order. This should be a rather quick case, but in the event that it takes longer than expected I've put together enough evidence to keep this show going till December the 26th if I need to.\"\n\n​\n\nA slow cold breeze flew through the air, though the door was closed, but suddenly a strange man was there. He wore a read suit, his hair was combed slick, he'd finally emerged. \"Good ol' Saint Nick,\" said Mickey with a dark laugh under his breath \"didn't think you'd have the guts to actually show up, though I'm sure you've got plenty to spare\".\n\n​\n\nBut Santa wasn't phased, he simply gave his 'trademarked' laugh \"Ho, ho, ho! Well, you did put it on your Christmas list and you've been surprisingly good this year, so I thought I'd at least stop in for at least a moment\" Santa replied which a pleased smile, like a proud father would to a son. Some of the other brands gasped a few chuckled.\n\n​\n\n\"Y-Yes, well. Where's your defense?\" replied Mickey curiously.\n\n​\n\n\"Defense? Oh yes, of course! Well, I decided I shant need one! In fact, I figured that we could all sit down for about, oh let's say 20 minutes, around some milk and cookies talk things out and settle this whole matter ourselves.\" Santa still had his jolly smile on his face, so there was no doubt he was serious.\n\n​\n\n\"What do you mean 'talk things out'? That's what our lawyers are for!\" \"Ya, why would we settle for less than the entire shibang fat man?\" called a couple of brands from the crowd.\n\n​\n\n\"Now, now, I think that once you tell me what you have to offer we'll be able to settle this peacefully.\" Santa replied calmly with a lovingly patient tone.\n\n​\n\n\"What *we* have to offer? *You're* the one being sued Santa Clawz, why would we offer you anything?\" Called another brand in the front of the bench. Santa pause with for a brief moment almost stunned for a moment. He looked a Mickey for a second.\n\n​\n\n\"Did he just-\"Santa started to ask, but was interrupted by Mickey.\n\n​\n\n\"Yes, it was a very poorly made insult. Now can we get on with this. It's still have a good point, why would we offer you anything?\" Mickey asked this cautiously. He had enough experience in dirty dealings to feel when something was off. And he was fairly certain someone as old as \"Santa Clawz\" had a fair bit of experience under his immortally large belt to know a thing or two they hadn't thought of.\n\n​\n\n\"Why Mickey, I thought you of all the brands would have noticed, each of the brands here has used my laugh or outfit or even my face in their products. Nothing I've ever made in regards to the brands hasn't at least been allured to in one of your many product placements!\" Santa said with a mirthful laugh! \"Why, for a great number of years *you* dressed up as *me*.\" He laughed while looking up, most likely imagining memories of times gone by.\n\n​\n\n\"Each brand here attributes a great number of their items by placing \"from Santa\" or some such thing on it. I'm sure if Mr. Tracy here went over his large stack of papers he'd be hard pressed to find any items that haven't been marketed using something of my IP.\" Santa winked at Dick Tracy who was already diving through his papers.\n\n​\n\n\"Dick! Is that true? Is there anything? Anything at all?\" Mickey did a comedic panicked waddle over to the table the detective was at.\n\n​\n\n\"I told you to call me Tracy, and I also told you that I'm a detective not a lawyer! A lawyer might be able to find something here, but this is the only chance we've got. After tonight it all becomes free IP. He'll be untouchable!\" \n\n​\n\n\"He's ancient, by that same reason he's gotta be public domain by now right?\" Mickey asked now entirely in a panic.\n\n​\n\n\"He's here. In the room. As the red man himself. If you take this case any further there's a chance he could sue you all for you have!\" Tracy almost shouted.\n\n​\n\n\"What should we do?\" asked one brand, \"maybe we should just let it go, I have a bunch of commercials already in the works I don't think I can afford the money sink.\"\n\n​\n\nMickey was practically hyper-ventilating, \"Mickey,\" Currently there were three Dicks in front of him, \"I think you should let this one go. You've got more to lose than to gain, not to mention the respect and trust the other brands have in you will be damaged irreversibly if this fails....\"\n\n​\n\n\"I-,\" Mickey signed heavily, \"I guess you're right. C'mon gang. I got a club house somewhere around here where we can get some drinks.\" He said defeated, shoulders slumped a bit. The other brands muttered to each other before all rising from the bench and shuffling out after Mickey.\n\n​\n\n\"Merry Christmas Mickey! Happy Holidays to you all!\" Said Santa as they all left.\n\n​\n\n\"As for you Mr. Tracy...\" Santa turned to the detective after the last brand left the room \"I've gotten you an early stocking stuffer\" He placed his hand in his pocket and after reaching a bit further into his pocket than he should have been able to go, he pulled out an unopened letter. The ink was smudged but the hand writing was undeniably familiar to Dick. \n\n​\n\n\"Is this...?\"He asked with an awed expression on his face.\n\n​\n\n\"That's for your wonderful *Christmas Spirit*\" said Santa with a wink.\n\n​\n\n\"Now if you'll excuse me,\" He picked up the detective stacks all labeled 'Santa's case- originals **Do Not Lose**' \"I've got to prepare for Christmas! Only 360 days until it's here! Merry Christmas!\" \n\n​\n\nWith a twinkle he disappeared from the room.\n\n​\n\nHolding the envelope in his hand, and looking at the hand writing on the front Detective Dick Tracy's eyes began to water \"Merry Christmas to you as well Santa. Merry Christmas.\" He whispered to no one in particular.\n\n​\n\n​\n\nNote: I know nothing about Dick Tracy other than he has a funny name and that he's a detective.",
"\"Your honor!\" District Attorney Thomas Mara thundered. \"If this man is even indeed who he claims ...\"\n\n\"Oh, not this again,\" Judge Henry Harper muttered. \"Counsel is reminded of last year's ruling finding that, as the United States Postal Service, a Federal agency, deems this man to be Santa Claus, AKA Kris Kringle, AKA Sinter...\"\n\n\"Yes, your honor,\" The DA interrupted. \"I withdraw my statement. But, as I have demonstrated,\" And he swept his hand over to the table where one of the bottles of Coca Cola perspired in the often-times frigid courtroom made sweltering by the mass of spectators. \"This is a patent case ...\"\n\n\"Watch it,\" the judge warned. \"One more pun and I'll find you in contempt.\"\n\n\"This is a clear case of patent and trademark infringement. This bottle is the identical manufacture of the well known and respected Coca Cola Corporation.\"\n\n\"And the defense does not deny this,\" The judge stated, and then looked at the defense. \"Correct?\"\n\n\"Uh, your honor,\" Fred Gailey said, and then rose to speak for the defense. \"That is correct. That bottle is identical as Mr. Kringle purchased them directly from the nearest bottling plant.\"\n\n\"Your honor,\" The DA droned. \"The delectable and effervescent formula within is identical.\"\n\n\"Which the defense does in fact deny,\" the judge said, and looked to Fred Gailey with a, \"Correct?\"\n\n\"Uh, that is correct, your honor. Mr. Kringle, uh -\"\n\n\"I didn't want all those smiling little boys and girls to ingest cocaine. I mean, not until at least they're, say, seven? Or, eight perhaps.\"\n\n\"Settle down, quiet down,\" The judge said. \"I\"ll hear from your counsel, if you don't mind Mr, uh, Santa I mean.\"\n\n\"Of course judge,\" Santa said. \"As you were saying Mister Gailey?\"\n\n\"I, uh, that was correct, your honor. My client, I mean Santa, Mr. Kringle, he is opposed to children under the ages of, uh, six, sorry, make that seven, yes seven eating cocaine. It's just not something for kids, your honor. Not until, uh, what did you say?\"\n\n\"Eight,\" Santa whispered.\n\n\"Ah, yes, eight. Therefore, your honor, the cocaine was removed from the formula-\"\n\n\"Which,\" The DA interjected, \"The defense has no claim of ownership to, or license to its secrets.\"\n\n\"On the contrary,\" Mr. Gailey countered, \"The defense has already stated, and presented evidence, that Santa made one gift, in the year eighteen eighty five mind you, to one rather sickly John Pemberton, as a special remedy written on a piece of parchment and put in a stocking hung near the fire, one recipe for a -\"\n\n\"A little remedy Misses Clause used to make me when my gout was acting up.\"\n\n\"Oh, come on,\" The DA countered. \"Are we to believe that the Coca Cola recipe was a stocking stuffer?\"\n\n\"Uh, yes,\" Mr. Gailey said. \"That is the defense's claim.\"\n\n\"But not with cocaine,\" Santa said. \"That was a special case, and his opium shakes - whew, let's just say the cold winds were a-blowin'.\"\n\n\"Thank you, thank you Mr. Kringle. Now, all you are lacking, Mr. Gailey, as I've said all along is?\"\n\n\"The evidence,\" Mr Gailey said. \"I know, your honor, but if you could just see -\"\n\n\"The evidence,\" The judge said. \"Federal, mind you. None of this State of California San Diego County malarkey like your friend Bivons there tried to pull on me last week with that, that -\"\n\n\"The salad bar defecation, sir,\" Mr. Gailey offered.\n\n\"Yes, that. Not that kind of evidence. The Federal kind.\"\n\nAnd, with that, the DA beaming, the judge reclining in his chair, and Susan Walker's eyes beading with tears, it seemed like there was no hope for the defense, and that finally, the DA would be able to kill Christmas, get Santa, the works.\n\nJust then, the doors flew open and in strode the Director of House Committee on Un-American Activities, reporting directly to McCarthy himself. \"In my hand are transcripts taken from phone conversations, confessions, some of them forced, mind you, to tell the godly truth, that Coca Cola executives, even today, acknowledge the hitherto secret truth, that their secret formula was in fact a stocking stuffer. And, seeing as how adding cocaine altered the formula, one must then acknowledge that formula was in fact received, and therefore the rightfully property of Kris Kringle.\"\n\n\"Actually, it would be the Misses ...\"\n\n\"Mister director,\" the judge said. \"I'm not entirely sure your point was, shall I say, linear.\"\n\n\"To believe otherwise would be un-American.\"\n\n\"Well,\" the judge pressed his lips together. \"I see no reason to continue with this farce. Find for the defendant.\"\n\nAnd Mr. Gailey swept up Natalie Susan whats-her-name, grabbed the MILF, and smiled."
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[WP] A lone man in your post apocalyptical waste, talks into a portable radio to try and keep his sanity, and finally the radio PTT chirps. After an time, our hero still doubts his frame of mind and it chirps again, just in time - that there is definitely someone there, listening... helping..
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"“There’s not gonna be any problem with him , he found me in the wasteland - he helps, I help, and he keeps his mouth shut”\n\nThey stared in doubt - and the look infuriated him.\n\n“I met him five years ago - he follows me, but never close, he doesn’t bug anybody and nobody bugs him”\n\nThey weren’t listening, and one of them tried to interject, “but I heard-“\n\nHe snapped back -“nobody say nothing!” He cringed at that sort of speaking, trying to snap them to attention, “I’m not asking you, I’m not asking for anything, I’m telling you , nobody bugs him.”\n\nHe eyed the three greasy dirty teens carefully across the campfire to make sure they got his point.\n\n“He lives by three rules, follow a good man, help out, and keep your mouth shut”\n\nThey were listening now. \n\n“out there, he’s been out there on the edge of the wastes, for five years.”\n\n“How do you—-“\n\nThe old mans patience was gone, “-Shut up, you’re done talking!”\n\n“, you’re listening now, you leave buddy alone, “\n\nThe kids eyes were fixed - the teens were listening, for once.\n\n“He’s done more for me than anyone else out here, saved my life 5 times in five years - why? Because I’ve been a good man, and he chose me to follow, and in those five years he’s only said one thing.”\n\n“What’s that?”\n\nThe old man stared him down, “I already told you dumb ass - follow the good man, help out, and don’t speak”\n\nHe paused a moment\n\n“Maybe you could do a little more of that now , too right?”\n\nThe three teenagers were relaxed now, fire, food and weed helped. They nodded with a careful glance back at their old man, the one they all knew better than to disrespect.. \n\nThe old man knew then that word would get out, even though it was time to move out, buddy was off limits.\n\nHe released the PTT switch - and a few short minutes later , the teens left, and he spoke to the radio again, “they’re gone,” and the radio chirped once, in response.\n\nBuddy heard. He knew, too, that word was out- and there wouldn’t be any harassment any more.\n\nThe story the old man told to the three kids was true, but he left out the one detail about that one time when buddy actually spoke.\n\n\nThe old man himself had been half wild, raving into a dead radio, chattering endlessly as if anything in the wasteland could listen, but the solitude would only press back harder.\n\nAll he had was chirps on the radio, that responded sporadically , only enough to communicate that they were listening.\n\nSoon buddy , like an elf in the wild, always there, but never seen, dropping off gifts and tools, for discrete drops of goods and services had been just a listening ear back then , a companion to save the old man from crossing the waste only said that one thing, and he said it a time when this old man needed a voice , something or someone to let him know he wasn’t truly alone in the wastes. They had each other , and the terms were simple.\n\n“buddy follow good man, help out , never speak”\n\nWhat the old man didn’t add, was that the lone voice he heard on the radio that time was the voice of a grown man, but with the timidity and hesitation of a child. Deep, stuttering, and had also added the qualifier - “Daddy says”\n\nIt’s a broken world , and how a mute man-child could survive in these wastes is nothing short of a spark of hope,.\n\nA miracle ? No, but a spark of hope - maybe\n \n\nEdit: a little grammar. You like it? Inspired by my math whiz 8 year old, we were playing with 2way radios and he was just getting the hang of PTT switches",
"\"Sargent Alexander of the 15 brigade talking to this fucking radio again in the hopes that maybe someone is out there in the vast nothingness this damn world has come to...\" \nI was using the Push-To-Talk radio that I found a year ago yet again in the hopes that someone, anyone else was out there. Yet like most nights, there was nothing but static as a response. The thing was either totally useless, or I really was the last person alive.\nThe apocalypse had happened a little over 5 years ago and the only thing that had kept me alive was at first, my unit, until ultimately they fell one by one. That was three years ago and I was still surviving due to the training I had received in my first couple of weeks of BT.\nHard to belive I'm only 25. I was 15 when they went door to door looking for able bodied men to fight for their country, The great USA. Except it's really not so great now that there are no countries, that and most continents are minefields of killer radiation. \"The bombs bursting in air\" that is how it goes isn't it?\nMost of the animals I have to hunt or trap have normally been affected in some form or another, be it extra limbs or just pieces... missing...\nBut here I am night after night talking to empty air in the desperate attempt to keep my sanity. Honestly who the hell knows if that's still in tact. The sun was getting low and I decided it would be best to get some shut eye.\n12:13 A.M.\n*HhHhZtttZsss*\n\"Hello? Is anyone out there? Please... anyone? I just found this damn radio hoping someone else would be there... I thought I heard something earlier but it was really fuzzy. So please if anyone is there my name is Ana and I would really like some company.\"\nI was awoken by the initial buzzing of the radio that was supposed to happen when someone else was talking. I sat in disbelief through Ana's entire message. That was of course, the very end where she sounded extremely desperate, almost like she had lost hope that anyone else was there. I was here, who knows how far away, listening, dumbfounded at her message, her voice might have been the best sound I've heard in years.\n\"Hello. This is Sargent Alexander, Ana I read you loud and clear. How the hell are ya?\" I said, loud and clear into the microphone.\nAt that moment I heard the girliest squeal before she quickly recomposed herself and said, \"Sargent, I had just about lost hope that anyone was left, but hearing your voice, I mean wow...\"\n\"Ana, all my friends call my Alex, and well, you might be the last other person left so please...\" I responded, struggling to maintain composure myself, it was a real life human being other than myself, I couldn't belive it. Maybe my sanity was worse off than I had thought, oh well a voice is better than constant static.\n\"Alright Alex, where are you? I'm currently hiding from one of those big black horned beasts on 27th and main. In an abandoned pharmacy that's been picked clean, so I wouldn't mind a little help if you could.\" She sounded frantic, like she was in genuine trouble, but her other actions didn't really add up. The squeal, the desperate call for help it didn't really fit. But she sounded sincere enough, and I hadn't fought any of the \"spikers\" in quite some time. \nSo I grabbed my solar paneled army issued Jeep and the rest, is as they say, History."
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[WP] Humans become a Type-3 civilization before they find aliens, so they decide to make their own.
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" Two possibilities exist: **Either we are alone in the Universe or we are not**. Both are equally terrifying. \n\n\\-Arthur C. Clarke\n\n\\---\n\n​\n\nFor eons, human kind has searched for life outside our own. Extinct microbes, barren rocks, endless voids are all we ever found in the *Milky Way*, and so, we turned to the example of God. Long had we shed divisive ideology, replacing it with arrogance long warned against. We took upon us the mantle of creation, and violated it.\n\n​\n\nWe perverted every spiral arm with the seeds of life, tending to and guiding evolution along an accelerated path to life. Human kind had taken its time to evolve and prosper, mastering the tools and sciences allowing us to conquer our little slice of the universe. Barely a millennia passed, and life invaded the galaxy. Humans were no longer alone, but to our surprise, we were unique. Intelligent life took many forms, and defied our understanding of it.\n\n​\n\nNone took the form of man. The creatures we had created took the forms of crustaceans, reptiles, insects, arachnids and even fish. Few were bipedal, fewer were humanoid in any capacity. So, we did what humans do in the face of the unknown, we conquered it. We subjugated it. We hated it.\n\n​\n\nSo it was, we looked God in the face, and killed Him.",
"\"Welcome to Xenoevolutionary Sciences 101. I trust you have all read the course briefing? Good. Then, we shall begin.\"\n\n\"Xenoevolutionary Sciences is the study of how alien cultures develop and prosper across their local planet, system, and galaxy. Development of rudimentary culture, communication, public consensus forming, and spaceflight are all modules on this course. You will be graded according to your analysis of your species successes, and you will need to justify their failures. Be forewarned, should your species suffer an extinction event, you will receive a failing grade, and be required to retake the course. Am I clear?\"\n\n\"Excellent. First of all, you should all currently have a standard Mark Seven Xenocontainment Device. If you do not, you will have one week to procure it, and develop a stone-age society. By the end of the academic cycle, your species will at least have a single colony on a suitable planetoid within their home system.\"\n\n\"Your XCD should contain at least one functioning galaxy. You can create multiple, if you desire, but it would be a waste, considering you only *need* to study a single species. Those students who study multiple species will receive extra credit, at the cost of needing to do twice the work. Once again, if any one of your multiple species suffers an extinction event, this will reflect poorly on your passing grade, even *if* you have multiple cultures under observation.\"\n\n\"Interacting with your species is not a requirement. Xenoevolutionary Sciences prides itself on its open and free learning program, either you may passively study your species and analyse its natural cultural progression, or you can attempt to direct it actively and justify your intentions.\"\n\n\"Be forewarned, active study has a tendency to produce unforeseen variables when leaving them to their own devices. If you go to sleep, they may not be the same when you wake up. A species that has been guided suddenly developing autonomy has never worked out well in the history of the Xenoevolutionary Sciences course.\"\n\n\"Once you have your stone-age society, your first task is to develop a written and spoken language. You will have until the end of the school day. Good luck.\"\n\n\\----\n\n\"Man, why do we even need to take this course? It's so boring.\"\n\n\"Right? I remember making a planet in, like, third grade.\"\n\n\"Some people like having Xenos. There's this one Extranet channel, XenosEarth, I think, he's hooked a bunch of them together and calls it his miniverse.\" \n\n\"To be fair, hobbyists are a special case. I can respect them having it as a passion, but it's just boring to me.\"\n\n\"Still, it's easy, right? Just like having a pet.\"\n\n\"Or eight billion pets.\"\n\n\"It's only two classes a week. I'm just using it to look good on my card.\"\n\n\"Yeah? What's your major again?\"\n\n\"Theoretical Entropical Studies.\"\n\n\"Ha, have fun serving nutritional supplements, for the rest of your life, with that useless degree.\"\n\n\"Oh yeah? What are *you* majoring in?\"\n\n\"Micro/Macro-Fusion. I'm gonna be a Starforger, just like my dad.\"\n\n\"Without Entropic studies, your stars would *die,* you know that, right?*\"*\n\n\"Pfft, sure. You're the type that still believes in Entropy, and Death, like we hadn't already stopped *them* ten billion years ago. Oh, I'd better check under my Genpod tonight, or the Entropy man will divide my cells, and I'll suffer radioactive decay!\"\n\n\"I hope your stars collapse.\"\n\n\\----"
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[WP]In a fantasy world where levels and even evolutions are granted by killing strong opponents you were born as one of the weakest monsters. Then one day a powerful adventurer trips and falls on your weapon.
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"The Pink fell onto the stones, making a weak squeal as I pulled my spear from its side. \n\nI hadn’t expected to meet an outsider here. This was our temple. But there he’d been, wide-eyed in the hall, bleeding from our labyrinth of traps, muttering in a strange, long-winded language.\n\nAk’ha leaned against me, his claws tight upon my shoulder, his snout inches from the blood-wet iron.\n\n“Ugh!” Ak’ha spat, leaping backward. “It’s a human.”\n\nI nearly dropped my spear. My plumage ruffled and fluttered at my neck, and I felt the urge to both pee and run. Humans are monsters. Everyone knows that.\n\nUr’za stepped around me. He poked at the Pink with a toe claw, whistling as he did so, warning us to be ready to run. And then he stopped poking and started to bend. His hand claws found the Pink’s neck. He scratched at the Pink’s cheek, pulled on its hair, and, to be sure, plucked a Shiny from the Pink’s ear.\n\n“It is dead,” Ur’za said. His voice was heavy with reverence as he turned toward me. \n\nAk’ha came close, his eyes wide with madness. I smelled his musk and reflexively bared my fangs, causing him to trip over his feet and tail as he sputtered and backed away.\n\n“You killed a Pink,” Ur’za whispered.\n\nAs I looked at the dead human in its metal shell, a mote of gold lifted from my arm and drifted on the cave’s currents of air. Another mote followed. Soon, the cave was awash with golden motes.\n\nI blinked. Strange thoughts came to me, pushing aside my urge to pee and stomping on my desire to eat and curl beside my kith.\n\nI thought of turning toward the Bad Air and leaving the cave. I wanted to see what was beyond the stone. And I felt like I could lead the other kobolds. I imagined large squares of them rushing toward lines of Pinks. We could take their stone homes, I thought.\n\nLooking at the Pink, I could decipher the symbols on its shell. \n\nLoras Lorissa. I knew that sound. The Pinks always came from its stone homes.\n\nAnd I knew this Pink was important. It wore a circle of silver around its head. Its sword pulsed with magic. The soft pelt on its back came from a mean cat. \n\nGripping my spear in my claws, I turned to my fellow kobolds and looked them in the eye. One by one, they knelt.\n\nThe others in our cave knelt, too. They spoke of my spear, Pinkclaw, and the dead metal-shelled human I had killed. \n\nThis was how I became queen of the kobolds. And it is why our army now marches upon the surface cities. Even dragons bow to me and fly above my kith. \n\nI will never forget the day a human prince impaled himself on my spear. And I look forward to the day when there are no more human princes.",
"---------------\n1 Opening of the gate.\n---'-----------\n\nThere's a man Todd.\nYou see he got caught up in something peculiar. An ad stating, \"send a picture. Pick a name for me. I need an obedient male subject. Ill give your spirt the best sexual experience any male has encountered in this realm or the next. But you can't say a single word. That will ruin everything. You can't ruin my dance and it will be lethal if you do. Reply must be one word with picture. Again Disobedience is lethal.\" \n\nSo Todd replied \"Lysa\" with a picture of the moon. His phone rang. Yet he gave no number. He only sent an email just 2 minutes ago. So here we are now with Todd picking up the phone. Let's be him now.\n\nMy hand shook the entire way up to my ear as I hit talk.\n\"Uhm Hello? How did youuu?\"\nWtf it's just silence. Could it be her? There's no way she could hack that easily.\n\"Is it you Lysa?\"\nFuck Are they going to say anything. This is so fucking weird.\n\"Are yu go..\"\n\nI can't even breathe right \nI don't know what to think.\nLike what the fuck.\nThere's no way it was that ad.\nYou have got to be fucking kidding me. \nI'm scared. Yet my body wants it to be her.\n\nSo then I just watched as my phone vibrated and rotated on the table. It lit up but i didnt want to grab it. Im kinda blank. But wouldn't it be an interesting story? There's no way. But. Not impossible. It's probably bad but my current pilot isn't as interesting in logic as the normal me. I never have felt this. Feeling of being lured and left vurnerable in an unpredictable situation. My life is so easy to predict. Everyday is the same. But this.\n\n\n345 Whitten Dr.\nLeave now\nHydrate on the way\nOnce we start there's no stopping.\n\n- <3 Lysa\n\nI know logically this is odd.\nShe's hacked me in seconds.\nI should just ignore it.\nLet's just commit. I'll Obey. A risk in experience anew. I'm okay with dying this way.\nAnd with that thought. My mind blanked.\nMy spirt was hooked. And my emotions took over the rest. And then my body just kinda did it's own thing.\n\nI knocked on the tiny rotting house.\nNothing. I went to knock again.\nI felt chills when I went to knock again. So I stopped. Then my hand just started pushing the off unsecured door in. I picked up my foot. A very dark room with a bathroom off to side was all there was ahead. And a faintly visible near the dim candle light was a thin layer of smoke. In the deep red glow it seemed like the smoke was inviting me closer. So I tiptoed over. Part of me felt my dick tingling out of anxiousness. Then the next moment I feel as if I'm going to piss nyself in fear. Okay breathe. In. Out. If you die. You die. \nId rather die a fool than a coward. \n\nThere was nothing else in it except a mattress on the floor and various animals antlers on top of a small black box. And some other animal tokens. It wasn't bright enough. Many tooth and antler like tokens seemed to be scattered on the dark floor.\nAnd just like that I heard a match. A candlelit leaked out of the crack in the closed bathroom door to my side. \n\n\"Blindfold yourself. it's on the matress. * whispers *\" \n \nSo now im Blind folded. And I don't know what to say. Im splitting down the middle. Wobbling one way, and then recoiling the other. And it repeats. It's those words. My brain can't get them out of my head.\nTo disobey is Fatal. Fatal. Cold silent fatality. My life will be a donation to an unknown cause. Is that what will. No. No.\nObedient. She warned me.\nTo obey is pleasure. Something indescribable. I don't understand what it is. She isn't a female. A male. Or even what I grown to think as a typical human. Im so uneasy. I need to fall to one side. One hand shakes. One is still.\n\nSuddenly i feel a fingernail sliding on the top of my right palm from palm all the way down my middle fingers. Just touching enough to tickle the skin. Then when i thought she pulled away 3 fingertips slid down my neck. \n\nA wave of feeling. To exchange flesh. It holds a power language can't explain. It's beyond its scope. And now my hands are still. I hear whispering things I don't understand. It's soft. Calm. Loving. Yet comes from pain. A mystery beyond me. I feel my body hairs shoot up on my arms and spine. Two fingers nudge my chest forward. So I fall with my back on the bed. \n\n\nAnother match strikes.\nI can't see it. I can see nothing. \nBut it lights a plant like sage. But it's not. \nIdk what it is. \n\n\"Your instincts are pure.\nThey like mine.\nMine like yours.\nDon't speak.\nYour human language has lost its element that keeps it grounded with the spiritually energy around us. It's changed since I've last been here. I phase out in sleep for some time. \nTurn your brain off.\"\n\nA coarse rope begins to slowly wrap around my wrist. Finger tips bounce around my body. I can't hear her move. But I sense her somehow. \nMy body knows and my brain knows it does. But it can't really tell me how. Commicating to the brain only slows it down. My hands push together behind my head. The rope gives a slight burn across my skin. My teeth bite down. Fear creeps in.\n\n\"\nLet the insticts roam free.\nThey are pure. \nLife flows within you.\nI need them and want them alone.\nYour mind shall just observe. \nTrust me with your body and soul\n\" \n\nA knife expertly cuts my flannel right down the middle. Her palm is on my heart. My body stops. \"I want my mind off. I wish I could.\"\n\nShe pushed on my chest hard. Leans in and suddenly my voice wouldn't work if I wanted it too. \"I'll grant you just that. My needles will work just fine. Give in to me.\" \n\nMy right leg turns off. \nMy left leg turns off. \nMy body is numb all over. \n\nInhale this.\nHer mouth goes over mine. \nBlowing smoke from hers and into mine. \nTime seems to not exist. My brain is only waiting for the next sensation my body gets.\nAnd its Hands on the top of both thighs. \nI never felt my clothes disappear. \n\nShe rubs her nose up my neck on my right side. High right hand dancing on my left thigh. \nShe whispers, \"Now we begin.\".\nI feel her hand bringing me towards a climax then she pulls away. I can still feel her. She's circling around the house. With my arms and legs are numb. Completely inmobile. With what I assume to be needles inside them. Strange noises. An animal. I know her feet. Another presence. I feel her coming back . What else is there. \n\nI hear her walk ing the front door.\nSounds of someone being dragged start to leak in. Muffled screams grow louder. \nI hear what has to be a women shaking and screaming on the floor. But I don't care about her at all. \n\n\n\"Do this with me.\nTrust me\nShow me your animal.\nYour right hand is my tool.\nLet me take you to a new realm. \"\n\nAnd my left arm suddenly become free. I feel her hand just stationary on my dick. My hand is now on her hand. I'm now so close. I can't even hear the screaming girl on the floor. \n\nShe speeds up. \nAnd I hear a rip of a cloth. \nThe girls mask was ripped off.her screams are now so loud neighbors can hear. \nBut it feels so good. \nI can hear a knife going in and out of the girls chest as her screams disappear. \nI'm no longer on a floor. \nMy limbs all work. Im no longer tied. She's riding me. I'm somewhere new.\nWe're floating. The knife in my hand is pulled out of the girls chest. \nNow her blood is in both our mouths. \nHer hand then shoves a piece of what I think is a human heart in both our mouths. We swallow and kiss. She's shaking and now speaking words I don't know. Screaming in between. The blindfold rips off. Black hair and beautiful breasts is all I see. I got a glimpse of what looked like purple eyes. \n\n\"I've given you the soul. \nI've tamed a worthy beast. \nI've shown him fear.\nAnd now the greatest pleasure of all! \nTake us to the sister world.\nOccultist ,mages, shamans, or any dwelling of the spirt plane open thy gate\" \n\n\nIm seeing the solar system from space. \nBut it's not my own. Were flying by entire Galaxies in seconds. We're floating as we accelerate through this beautiful nebulae. No G force at all. Just her leaking on top of me.\nIt makes no sense. I don't feel us moving. I only feel her.\nShe kisses me. \nPulls me close. \n\"Thank you. This baby will be the next sage of the world. But now I'm phasing away.\" I squeeze her hard as everything disappears. My hands fly through her. It all goes white. \n\n\n---\nContinued \n\n",
"BLOOP – PART I: SERAPHIM\n\n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\n\nIn the world of Elyseria, there are the strong and the weak. Weakness is well known by the lower creatures. The goblins, skeletons, boars, and most definitely the slimes are no stranger to the painful bite of an adventure’s blade. Well it was a blade most of the time… sometimes it was an axe, or hammer, or in some rare cases a prolonged beating by a novice’s wooden stick.\n\nBloop was a small blue slime, a creature that had the honor of being the lowest rung on Elyseria’s endless ladder of power and advancement. As new adventurer’s stepped into the dewdrop caves, Bloop and her friends were usually crushed under the first few steps of a new adventurer’s leather boots as they looked to the heavens with dreams of becoming a high level Paladin, Dragon Knight, or maybe a Star Mage.\n\nIt was simply the way of the world. Low level adventurers would often delve through the caves, seeking marginally better treasure than what the world’s gods gifted newcomers with. From then on, lower creatures were simply easy prey for XP crystals – the essence of life that moves Elyseria forward.\n\nThose that gained enough XP would level and reach new echelons of power. Adventurers would take on new roles and be able to use powerful new skills and equipment and creatures would evolve to become more. All of it was powered by the coveted glowing XP crystals that dropped from all Elyserian life after being defeated. Those killed would simply respawn once more with what they were born with, doomed to start over and begin the long climb of advancement anew.\n\nFor the lowest level creatures there was no looking to the heavens. Weak creatures were trapped in the constant cycle of death and rebirth. Novice adventures that passed through the caves were several times higher in level than these creatures were. Normally the creatures would be lucky if they survived a single stroke from an adventurer’s opening attack.\n\nWhile others low level creatures hated their fate and cursed it daily, Bloop always bounced positively. She came to terms with her lowly existing by convincing herself that she was contributing her paltry XP crystals to something greater. As the years passed, these thoughts kept her bounce cheerful. Inside she continued to believe that while today it may be an adventurer, tomorrow perhaps the gods would smile upon her and things would change to give her a chance at something new –something outside of dewdrop cave.\n\nAnd so Bloop started her day, pushing the hopelessness out of her mind like she usually does. Out from the spawning pool she plopped, bouncing happily along the dewdrop trail that she’s patrolled for the last ten years. She awaited the next adventurer to cut her down and wondered who it will be? Would it be a young human warrior with an iron sword? Maybe it might be a brooding apprentice with a black cloak and starter wand? Thoughts raced through her mind about who they might be and what they might level into.\n\nIt was when Bloop was passing the crystal path at the midway point of the cave when she saw it. It started with a soft blue light that refracted off the cave’s shimmering walls, painting a kaleidoscope of colors throughout the area. It was an adventurer, but not a newcomer like she was used to. The humanoid figure was clad in diamond-like armor that glistened with multiple shades of color. A large pair of angelic wings sprouted from the figure’s back. What class was he? She recalled the day that a level 42 Dragon Knight entered the cave and slaughtered everything in it for fun. This was nothing like that. The multi-colored armor of the figure and gentle glow of his aura contrasted against the dark scales and serrated spikes that jutted from the dragon knight.\n\nNormally all Elysian creatures could sense the level of one another, but all Bloop could sense from this figure was a “Star” where there would normally be a number. Maybe his level was too high for her to see? Is that even possible? Bloop bubbled with excitement, wonder, -and confusion.\n\nIt was then that the figure extended a hand, drawing aether from the air and forming the most brilliant runic weapon that she had even seen. The sheer force of the blade’s magic power caused the cave to surge with heat. Bloop looked towards the blade. Well, this is it she thought. It probably won’t even hurt. She wondered how high the damage would be, there was no doubt that this would be a critical hit.\n\nThe strike never came. Instead the figure stopped and began speaking. An intense but strangely calm voice filled the area.\n\n“How many years have we chased the stars only to find that they never grew closer? How many backs have been broken to build a stairway into the unattainable?”\n\nQuestions filled Bloop’s mind but she couldn’t ask any of them. The ability to speak was reserved for creatures that were level 20 or higher -with the only exception being adventurer types. Bloop was only level one.\n\nThe figure looked down at the little slime with a gaze that was like two full moons sailing a starless sky.\n\n“It is time for an age to come to an end and for new rules to be written.”\n\nWith that statement, the figure plunged the white hot runic sword into his own chest. A blinding fountain of light spilled forth from the gaping wound. The man seemed to almost smile as the light consumed him, leaving behind a radiant XP crystal that pulsed like the beating heart of a new world.\n\nTime froze for Bloop for what seemed like an eternity. The grand XP crystal simply towered her, spinning slowly and reflecting light off of its many facets. She reached out with a goopy tendril and touched it.\n\nThat day everything changed.",
"I couldn't believe it, I scored one! I never thought that I could gain even a single experience point, but here I am, still alive. Usually whenever a human comes by this part of the ravine, my kind are slaughtered with little difficulty. Us Xerodeks are some of the weakest monsters in the biome, making us easy targets for new adventurers and even other monsters. We're quadrupedal, relatively small, and have lackluster stats. While we try our best to fight back, we are just simply outmatched in every category, leaving most of us to flee for our lives. While so far I've had success with fleeing, I've seen plenty of my kind harvested for easy experience, there was nothing I could do. Until he came along.\n\nIt was another day in the ravine, and I was out at a nearby river. I dunked my head into the water to get a big drink, and when I lifted my head out, I saw a horrible sight. About 20 feet away from me was a human. The sight of a human was enough for my kind to run, but what made it worse was what was above his head. Hovering over his head was his name and level:\n\n**HERACLES lvl. 137**\n\nI couldn't believe it, his appearance alone was enough for my stats to drop drastically. He was a hulking behemoth with bronze armor and the heaviest-looking mace that I've ever seen. Judging from his life bar, he seemed to have gotten into one heck of a fight before hand, it was flashing red with him looking worn out. I figured that he must had been out of health potions, and that he was out here to find ingredients to make some more. The local vegetation here are key ingredients to brewing up potions, so it wasn't uncommon to see people picking flowers and cacti and what not. It was at that moment that I remembered a horrifying fact. Xerodek scales are used to boost a potion's effects, and he seemed like he needed whatever he could get.\n\nHeracles looked right at me. I tried to blend in with a nearby rock, but it was already too late. He raised his weapon and charged right at me with lightning speed. There was no way I could outrun him, so I instinctively curled into a ball and raised the spikes on my back. I didn't expect it to do me any good, but it was the only thing that I thought of at the time. Taking a peek in front of me, I saw Heracles close the gap between us. I saw him ready to swing his weapon and smite me. I saw him slide on the wet sand and lose his balance.\n\nI felt my spikes penetrate into something.\n\nLooking up, I realized that my spikes ended up going into the helmet's visor and into Heracles' eye socket. Unfolding myself, I took a look at his health bar and saw that I got a critical hit on him, reducing his health to zero. I was in shock, I managed to take down someone with a level that I never knew could get that high. What happened next caught me by surprise. His body disappeared, leaving a bunch of colored orbs behind, similar to the ones that monsters dropped when they were slain. The next thing I knew I was being smothered by them. They escaped from the now empty armor and completely covered me. I felt a surge of strength course through my body, I never knew that this much power existed. It was as if the gods themselves granted me this feeling. Suddenly, it ended. All the orbs left behind found their new host, and I rose from the ground.\n\nNot knowing what just happened, I scurried over to grab another drink from the river. It wasn't until I saw my reflection in the water that I realized what happened. I evolved. I didn't know that Xerodeks could evolve, but there I was. I had hands, my teeth grew sharper, I could stand on two legs, my body grew more beast-like, my scales became rougher, the changes were numerous.\n\nLooking back at where Heracles once was, I picked up his armor. Despite it being meant for a human, the armor fit like a glove. The mace felt right at home with me too. For all my life, I had to watch my kind be ruthlessly slaughtered by others. Now, it doesn't matter who shows up here next. If they want to get to my friends, they would have to go through me first. For now on, the Xerodeks will no longer fear for their lives, I'll make sure of it.",
"This was the moment i had been waiting for.\n\nThis was it.\n\nA level 86 trader screamed \"WWWWWWWWW\" as he stood still in front of my very slow crusher.\n\nIt isn't easy being a minion guarding a miniboss, especially when that miniboss is in the tutorial. I had no idea why this dude thought to replay the tutorial when he was already ranked 7 on the world leaderboards, maybe he hit is head or switched bodies with a baby? Anyway it brought me satisfaction to se his armor first getting crushed and the the satisfying sound of bone crumbling, as the richest man on this side of the great ocean of Aggrowichia died in my measly trap. When it was done all that was left was a bloodied mess and for some reason all of his stuff was without a dent even though I clearly saw his armor breaking. Whatever i was RICH. \n\n\n\nSo i may have found a problem in my reasoning that i was rich which is who would ever carry 5.7 milion gold on them but apparently this dude is a superhuman, because he did that. I think his backpack might be magic since i threw a rock in last week and i still havent heard it hit something.\n\n\nOkay I have found no way out yet, but the adventurers all come out of here so it must exist\n\n\n3 people have gone through the tutorial only this hour but they just seem to dissapear after fighting my boss, so i see no other way out than to fight him i guess.\n\nOkay my plan did not work and now Boris is angry at me, luckily i still have that dudes armor and weapons.\n\nI have decided to do it, if I do not come out even from this, well i will be dead anyway. The crusher must be the only way out for me.\n\n\n",
"I had never hoped for success. I was a \"mob\", after all. Just trash in the way of the powerful. Just an introduction to combat. I had managed, barely, to survive until now (Cowardice is underrated) . That is, until the lv. 99, shining, plate-armor-covered man appeared in front of me, probably seeking to blow off some steam by killing some easy prey. I fully expected to die.\n\nUntil he fricking tripped over a fricking rock, falling with his neck, the only part of his body not covered by that impenetrable armor, on my miser dagger. This could not be happening. Was it some kind of trick? Some twisted deity trying to deceive me for easy laughs? It seemed so.\n\nIt was not. Alas, when the light faded out of the brute's eyes, I felt it. Evolution. I, a mere skeleton given consciousness by the All-Reaper, was evolving! \nThe bones that constituted my form grew, dark flesh covering them. After the flesh, a black, metal-like substance hardened my grey skin, encasing me in armor. My meagre dagger turned to ashes, from which rose a glaive of the same substance as the armor, a dark-blue mist slowly rising from the blade like vapor, covering its surface. A cape of darkness descended from my shoulders, covering my armor.\n\nI could feel things I had never felt before. I now know how it feels to have flesh covering the bones, to have lips, or a tongue, vocal cords, internal organs. A brain ready to learn and expand. Eyes not made of magic. A beating heart. A face.\n\nI never had any of those. I was one of the skeletons not taken from the ground but created by sorcery, magical particles coalescing into bone, who coalesced into a human form. I had no name, no life before my creation. I was never buried, and I was never alive.\n\nUntil now. I approached the lake I \"guarded\" (I was often too busy hiding behind some rock in the dark cave to properly do my job) deep below the earth, the only source of clear water in a very wide area, and looked at it like it was a mirror. I could see it. My reflexion. My long hair, black as the magic that birthed me. My pale complexion. My eyes unlike any human ones, black were they should be white and grey where they should be green, blue, brown or red. My muscular frame covered by dark metal, covered by dark cloth. I was quite like the man I had just killed.\n\nI looked into the reflexion of my eyes, into what some humans mistakenly call the \"heart\", what I know is called the Abyss. And an abyss it was. It was a fitting name for my \"heart\". And it would be a fitting name for me.\n\nI buried the adventurer the proper way, knowing how to do so because my brain was created with knowledge of the world within, knowledge about things I had never seen but whose secrets I now knew. I buried him like I never was. He would rise to the lair of his gods, taking his seat in the table of the Deity of War, like all fallen warriors. His immortal soul would forever feast and sing his glories, unburdened by his humiliating demise, for all death in battle is glorious to these men and women, and knowing his mortal body would be forever safe in its tomb, deep below the ground.\n\nI walked to an exit I now knew existed, worrying solely about what delicacy would have the honor of debuting my palate. And I remembered currency was not one of the things evolution granted. And so disappointment was the first emotion to be shown in my face."
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[WP] You've gone to bed on the last day of 2018, promising 'a new year, a new me' for 2019. When you wake up, you're a different person in every way.
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"Birdsong flitted through the open window and sunshine seeped from the pale blue curtains that gently swayed in the wind. The clock on the dresser was digital, and difficult to read without my glasses. \n\nGlasses. \n\nWell, that’s weird.\n\nI rubbed my eyes and squinted at the clock again. 10:23. Just in time to make brunch. Groaning and rustling the sheets to remove myself from the suddenly very comfortable bed, I stuck out one leg and stared. \n\nSomething is not right... \n\nI’ve never shaved my legs before and I am definitely not Caucasian. What the fuck. And why do I need glasses? I’ve had perfect vision for the past 20 years, why would those nights of staying up until 5am playing video games and drinking RedBull in complete darkness catch up to me now? \n\nMore awake than I’d ever been and hyper aware of everything in the room and my body being utterly wrong, I jump out of bed and launch myself at the nearest door. Luckily, it was a bathroom. I shut the door and resisted screaming at the sight. \n\nIn the mirror was a new me. Dark red hair matted with a terrible bedhead. Freckles spattered along cheeks and down to the chest. White skin that looked like a ghost. One check downstairs–yep, no dick. Blue eyes staring into my soul. The only similarity I found in this new body was the dark circles under the eyes and a slight slouch from nights of endless studying.\n\nOh god.\n\nI was my step-sister."
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[WP] The Roman God Janus welcomes in 2019.
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"*Those lights are beautiful tonight. Don't we agree?*\n\n*Yes, us. Those humans are very crafty. Shame we no longer have Helios to see it.*\n\n*We agree. It is a tragedy, but it's only reasonable we keep watching, even without our old friend. We are Janus after all; the two-faced god of choices, doorways, beginnings, and ends. It's a good thing we're the god of that.*\n\n*It is a good thing. Many olympians fade as humans no longer need them. First, it was the titans. Helios and Mnemosyne, titans of light and memory, were no longer necessary. The torches and scrolls were only the beginning of their ends. Later came others. Hestia had no more hearths of sacrifices to turn to. Hera barely survived the end of the typical nuclear family. Asclepius was vanquished by modern medicine.*\n\n*But they were only replaced. Others have risen to Mount Olympus at... unexpected rates. Internet has been begging for Hestia's old seat, but the strong ones rebuke him. Dionysus, Ares, and especially Hades still stand strong against the new, except for Ares's infatuation with nuclear weaponry over the last seven or eight decades.*\n\n*Fortunately, we are still alive and shall last for much longer. The fates have told that we will die not in the next 1,000 years. But now, let us witness the end of 2018, αρχή...*\n\n*...and the beginning of 2019, κατάληξη!*\n\n*WWEE SSEE TTHE NEW YEAR AND TALK AS ONE BRIEFLY, FOR IT IS THE BEGINNING AND THE END! MAY YOU HUMANS MAKE MANY CHOIC-C-ES, BOTH GGOOOODD AANNDD BBAADD!!*"
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[WP] Sitting outside a local coffee shop you hear a loud meow come from the ground. Looking down, you see half a dozen black cats- all staring up at you.
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"“Awe, these cats are so cute!” I say, picking one up and starting to pet it. “Aren’t you guys just so adorable, yes you are!” I continue to coo over them, silently wondering where their owners were. Maybe they were street cats? I quickly checked each cat for a collar but found none. \n\nAfter multitasking between petting each cat and drinking my hot cocoa, a young lady who had been working at the counter a few minutes ago came outside for her break. Noticing all the cats, she came over and asked my permissions to pet them. “Oh, um, they’re not mine, so uh go for it!” I told her, assuming they’d be as friendly to her as they were to me.\n\nHowever, when the young woman reached out, she was met with a claw from two cats and a bite from another. “Hey!” I said, swatting the suddenly violent cats away from her. “That’s not very nice!” I scolded the cats. The poor women had to rush back inside, her hand covered in blood. I hope she’s okay, I thought as I left the coffee shop, hoping the cats would disperse. \n\nOnce I got home though, the cats were still on my tail. “What do you guys want?” I asked, annoyed. \n\nOne of the cats starting speaking. “We are the spirits of abandoned cats, left to die alone and without food or water. We have come to you to ask for your aid.” \n\nI blinked, surprised. “You can talk?”\n\nAnother cat spoke up. “We all can. We would like you to help other animals like us that have been left alone and uncared for.”\n\n“So how do I do that?” I asked, in hindsight not really questioning the situation enough. \n\n“Let us show you,” another cat spoke, as the group of cats began to walk away from my house, seeming to know where they were going. I spent the entire day following them from shelter to shelter, helping the employees care for animals who were injured, disfigured, and left alone by their owners. The state of these animals made me angry with the world. Who could stand to leave their pets alone and hurt?\n\nThe satisfaction of the work crept up on me. Seeing these numerous pets respond positively to my touch and giving them food and water made me ecstatic to see the pets perk up. I’d always loved pets, but was usually too busy to ever make time to go to shelters. I was lucky it was a weekend where I was met by this huddle of black cats. \n\nLate at night, the cats led me back to my home. I opened the door wide for them, and they came in and slept with me on my bed.\n\nThe next day, I woke up with the cats gone. All six of them weren’t sleeping with me, and I searched the whole house trying to find them. Was that a dream? I wondered before seeing the remnants of black fur strewn over my blankets. \n\nThe next few years, I became an avid shelter visitor. I would help as many animals as I could in my free time. I never really felt that I could say for sure whether the black cats were actually real or not, but they helped me find joy in helping others, which is something I’ll never take for granted."
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[WP] You finally kill that spider that's been lurking in your house for months. As it dies, you hear a faint jingle and an ethereal voice shouts joyously, "Level up!"
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"(Caution: this was composed by an individual with English as a second language! Apologies for any mistakes that I might have created)\n\nConfused you look around, not really able to grasp what just happened. As you want to make sense of the situation , you feel your body starting to tremble. Your extremities are shaking, almost impossible to control. Suddenly, a flash of energy goes right through your body, giving you the impression that your condition might be acting up again.\n\nAt least, this is what your doctor wanted to make you believe since you were a child. \nThe medication she gave you, your miracle drug, would get rid of that. You would feel nothing but peace anymore once you took it. \nIt would suppress everything that made you feel uncomfortable and unable to function in the real world. \n\n\nBut the more this was happening, this was certainly not the first time,and the more often I saw the bald man in the hallway staring at me, the more I was convinced that there must be more to this. \n\nHave my parents been lying to me? \n\nIs there more to my person than they wanted me to know? The ability to jump higher than my peers, the ease in which I was able to defend myself in a fight with the bullies, or the physical or mental boost whenever I experienced something out of the ordinary, it just made no sense that a simple mental condition would cause all of this. \n\nAm I superhuman? Am I a character out of a cartoon who can jump buildings and defends people in need where the police fails? What was happening? \n\n I tried to find answers, but neither my parents, nor my longtime physician, Dr Calloway would give me any answers, even though I knew just by looking into their eyes, that they have been lying to me all along. \nIn frustration I turned to the only person, I have not yet interacted with, but who seemed to have been a companion of mine since I was a child, the bald man.... ",
"Dropping my keys on the table I did my daily walk into the kitchen, grabbing a La Croix from the fridge and popping open the med box on the counter. Filled on Sunday, I stared at Monday and Tuesday, still bulging with their stores of multicolored pharmaceuticals and huffed a heavy sigh. It shouldn’t really happen this fast, but as I peered around the open plan kitchen, filled with the pink and orange hues of sunset, l felt like the world was coming back alive. Like I’d been living in black and white and upgraded straight to a 70” 4k LED. I think back to group, to my family still living with Leah’s parents in Albany, and I know that this is more than surrender, or the desperate need to feel truly present in my own body. It’s a giant middle finger to everyone that ever loved me, to my friends, my family, my students, my work.\n\nI shake my head and move into the bathroom, staring into the toilet bowl as I take a piss. I’m momentarily mesmerized by the way it swirls into the water, until it is a uniform shade of straw against the cold white porcelain. I linger for a moment, lost in the vividness of the color, after what felt like months and months of grey on grey, when I noticed movement in my peripheral vision. I’d spent a month in a campaign against this little fucker, a dime sized black spider I’d eventually named George. \n\nWe met, innocently enough, one night when I was staring into the abyss of emptiness that I continued to insist would someday be my dissertation. George skittered across my screen, plopping down onto my fingers before continuing into the crevices of my laptop keyboard. What came next was a flurry of frantic hushed panic as I slapped the computer off of my lap and smashed it face down into the carpet. After grabbing a beer and reminding myself that I was indeed a 35 year old man, and not my 8 year old daughter, I returned with a can of compressed air and the biggest textbook I could find in my office. Of course, much like my father (and George’s namesake), he’d made his big appearance and now was nowhere to be found, so I packed up for the night and tried to forget it. But George had other plans, plaguing me for all of the next few weeks, likely staging the assault from a cozy little nest within my own damned keyboard. \n\nSo now, here he was. All brazen and fat, at the end of his month of terror, the month I now called George. \n\nThe way I like to see it, I’d finally outsmarted him, finally staged my coup, wad of 2-ply clutched expertly between my fingers--ready for the final showdown. But probably George was already dead, half curled up on the dirty linoleum. Or maybe it was one of his many brothers or sisters. Perhaps the war had really just begun. In any case, there was a sense of profound relief as I smashed his little body into the floor, leaving the smear of him as I tossed the rest of the remains with the toilet paper into an overflowing trash can.\n\nAs I leaned back down with a fresh wad for George’s remaining innards, I found my movements arrested sharply by the sound of a faint jingle that seemed to be coming from somewhere above me. I hovered there, stooped, with one hand on the edge of the toilet bowl, the other frozen above the ground. Had I locked the door when I’d come in? For a moment I wondered if I’d simply heard my keys slipping off the table in the kitchen, but this sound seemed much closer, seemed to echo faintly off the bathroom walls. \n\nMy task momentarily forgotten in the activation of fight or flight, I pulled my body up and spun around, arms out and up as if I knew the slightest thing about karate. Finding nothing and no one, I began to relax as a light, ethereal voice rang out around me.\n\n“Level up!”\n\nGuard reactivated, I froze, eyes swirling around the bathroom before I slowly peeked around the door jam like a fucking brain dead ninja wanna-be. Oh yea Mark, very smooth, I mentally jeered at myself.\n\nI spent the rest of the night sitting rigidly on the couch with the tv on mute. For some reason I’d always liked to keep the captions on, but found my hypervigilance competed too strongly with the rest of my brain to allow me any real ability to read or parse the letters that blinked over the bottom of the screen.\n\nEventually, I tiptoed to the bedroom, curling on top of the duvet and pulling the blanket from the foot of the bed to cover me, falling asleep as I wondered vaguely if we still had Sam’s wiffle bat in the garage and if the spiders were indeed now planning their revenge. \n\nI woke up the next morning, stiff and uncomfortable in the wrinkled clothes of the day before, and padded to the kitchen. As I waited for my coffee to brew I leaned against the center island, struck by the dance of dust particles in the beams of morning light that flooded through the open vertical blinds of the sliding glass door. They seemed to twist and fall in sheets, like rain, or snow. My coffee was ready, but I found myself locked in place as the moving particles began to writhe and thicken, darkening and sprouting, until the morning beams were hundreds and thousands of tiny spiders, spreading down onto the floor in an undulating live mass.\n\nI moved my eyes to the coffee maker, as if it held some solution to what I could only register as the coming sider apocalypse, but the carafe was overflowing, larger spiders with intricate neon patterns over their bulbous backs pushing, pulling, sliding over the glass and onto the counter. \n\nStumbling back from the island I turned back to the glass door, the kitchen darkening as curtains of more and more spiders filled each gap in the blinds and tossed as living fabric onto the floor. \n\nUnable to think, I grabbed a broom from against the fridge and began to slam it pointlessly into the moving puddle that had begun to overtake my feet, crying out with a voice that sounded like it belonged to someone else. \n\nI swept and smashed, the world blurring and swirling as I sobbed and swatted. Over the sounds of my screams, the pounding of my heart in my ears, a shrill sound broke through. The jingle I’d heard in the bathroom as I’d hovered over George, somehow clearer than the growing hum of the spiders or the blood rushing to my head.\n\n“Level up! Level up! Level up!”\n\nI could feel them on me then, the thousands of little legs, the juicy popping of their bodies as I pressed my hands hard over my skin and fought to rip the sensation away. I raked my hands through my hair, dancing around the kitchen like I was on fire, sliding on the wet mush of spider, both dead and alive beneath me.\n\n“Level up! Level up! Level up!” the voice pinged, growing louder and louder until I finally lost my balance, the side of my head cracking sharply against the edge of the island counter, taking the voice and the spiders and replacing them with peace.\n\n***\n\nI woke up sometime in the early afternoon, smearing blood into my eyes as I struggled to focus my vision and sit up. The kitchen was dark, the blinds closed and curtains drawn, but other than myself, the broom, and a neat pool of my congealed blood, nothing was out of place. \n\nStruggling to stand, I limped with the broom to the counter with my keys, the med box still open where I’d left it. I knew it wasn’t for any of the “right” reasons, the ones my psychiatrist liked to toss around like a ransom. It wasn’t for my family, friends, the career, for any of it. But hey, they say you can’t do shit for other people--at the core, it has to be about you, right?\n\nI know it’s not really the same. I know I’m the same selfish asshole that reveled in the color of his own piss, who liked the voices when they told him he was important, when they told him what to think and who to be.\n\nI hate myself for the sadness that spreads through me like the chill of ice water drunk fast on an empty stomach. Hate the way that even though it shouldn’t happen that fast, I can feel the color drain out of my world before I’ve even swallowed the last pill.\n\nI sit on the couch for the next few hours staring blankly into the darkened tv I hadn’t bothered to turn on. I think of George, I think of my dissertation, and I listen to the fading chime of a voice that repeats, “Game over, game over, game over,” until all that’s left is sleep.",
"*Dang spiders*, I thought. *I really have to find the money for an exterminator*.\n\nI took my sandal to the 4th arachnid to stand in front of me today. As I hear the crunch, however, a chime rings in my head and I hear a high-pitched voice come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time: \"Level up!\"\n\nI thought I had just imagined it, but then I felt like I had a certain power. In an instant, I could make myself just a little smarter, or stronger, or more hardy, or more perceptive, charismatic, athletic, or just plain lucky. I could never muster the motivation to go to the gym, so I on a whim I decided to get stronger.\n\nBoom. My then-loose clothes suddenly fit a little better on me. I went to the mirror to find my arms somewhat bigger, my legs wider, and my abs somewhat more defined. For once, manual labor didn't seem like so much of a burden to me. And then it hit me.\n\n*I'm my own video game character*.\n\nI had to hunt down more spiders. Kill them. Take the experience from their curled, lifeless corpses. With my newfound strength, I moved the fridge out from the wall with some effort, but certainly less effort than before.\n\n*There, a few more*.\n\nI took my shoe to 6 or 7 more. \"Level up!\" I hear again, with slightly more fanfare. Intelligence was my pick this time. I had to start getting creative with finding spiders if I'm ever gonna keep this up. Sure, I could probably find bigger game (In-line with the whole RPG theme), but killing spiders meant leveling up and not losing (i.e. dying) in my own game.\n\n*Be the exterminator* was the first thought to fill by head after level 3. I headed out to grab some Raid from Home Depot and boy did I go to town on some spiders. An hour passed before I hear the oh-so-satisfying chime again, and I decided to be adventurous and be a bit more lucky. Abilities are great, but as in most RPGs, I need money, and I definitely *do not* have money.\n\nAnd that's how it started. With a bit of luck, and some smarts, I started my own business, Experience Exterminators. I seek to become the god of this game, and after calculating the number of spiders I have to kill along with the number I usually kill per hour, I can reach what I believe to be max level in 10 years. It's been 3 years since I've heard the addicting sound of progress, but just as satisfying is the look on someone's face when they ask the question of how the most perfect person they have ever met got stuck squashing bugs."
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[WP] You're an archaeologist studying Roman ruins. You discover something weird- a cache of weathered old AK-47s.
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"“Sir, we’ve discovered an odd case in section L4, might I suggest you head down there and take a look for yourself?”\n\nYeah, that’s what my assistant researcher told me. Yes, once I had arrived in L4, I did notice the strange shape of the ancient crate. It was black and ovular. It looked incredibly smooth, but the markings around the sides were distinctly not Roman. What was even stranger was that they were not Roman, Greek, Egyptian- nothing ancient. They were quite obviously English.\n\n*Look to the stars to look upon the past*. I found this very odd- not only was this not Old English, but this was very much modern. Once I opened the crate, I still had no idea what the hell my team had found. Well, I knew what they found- a big old black crate full of AK-47s, but *why the hell* was this crate buried a mile away from Vatican City? I needed to report my findings, before I could even leave the small, withered old room where we had found the crate, I was being greeted by a small, withered old man with a large hat.\n\nAnd here I am, staring into the eyes of the pope. “Hello, Jacob,” he whispers. The look on his face is almost frightening. His lips are pursed, and he quivers slightly when he speaks. “So, I assume you aren’t here to preach the word of Jesus Christ to me?” I retort. “In a way, I am. I’m here to tell you the truth- the truth of what really happened around 2,000 years ago. Someone was bound to find out eventually, and the Church just can’t cover this up anymore.”\n\nHe looks away, and begins staring off into the distance. “Jesus. He was a warrior. Yes, he was sent by God on a mission. And yes, that mission was to bring peace to humanity. But what the Bible doesn’t tell you is what that peace was from- aliens.” What the fuck? Have I stumbled into a show on the History channel? “You don’t believe me, but I must explain,” he continues. “The year of our Lord, it was truly a devastating battle. So many lives were lost. Men, women, children- none were ignored by the monstrosities from the skies.” I interject. “How would *you of all people* know this? You’re the fucking *pope*.”\n\n“Let me finish, please,” he says. “There’s a reason only one person can have the title of pope. We are direct messengers of God. He speaks to each pope, not through sacred scripture, but through the mind. Through this power we can see what could have been- knowledge, worlds, dimensions. Around a year ago, He whispered songs of destruction to me, tales of death. The visions I had were terrible. They would break the mind of any man. But I knew what I needed to do. I needed to deliver weapons to the men of the past.”\n\n“Yeah, so you built a time machine, right?”\n\n“Sarcasm is the language of the devil, you know. But no, God did. You see, Jesus- as he is God himself and man- can exist in the mortal plane. Well, any mortal plane, that is. He came here, took the weapons and disappeared, leading the men of the past in a holy war. The catacombs beneath the Vatican? Merely a mass grave for all the men, women, children, and aliens that were killed.”\n\nHow the hell can I believe this guy. Is he psychotic? “Okay, so if Jesus led these men in a *holy war*, what about the crucifixion? How did these weapons get back here?”\n\n“Merely a cover up. And what He asks for, He returns. I suppose you’re about to also ask where Jesus is now, if he’s not dead. Well, all I can say is, doing Jesus things.”"
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[WP] Now that you have defeated the great evil of this realm, you may do what you truly desire: becoming a small business owner.
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"\"...Is this serious, my Lord?\" asked the mayor of the little town of Pantera. To his shocked eyes, the humble middle-aged man watched as the nearby earth, wood and metal were bent to the desires of the younger man at his side. To say that the attire of said youngster was particular was quite the understatement; the robes of the spellcaster, currently working on setting up a whole building from scratch, were far more expensive than the whole of Pantera... Several times over. There was no one in the whole realm who didn't know the name of the powerful Archmage... Yet by some bizarre reason, the man was building himself a simple shop in the outskirts of the town.\n\n\"I'm not sure what's the weird thing about it, Mayor. I've filed up all the necessary paperwork and there's no issue about the rest of the merchants of the town.\" the man explained, his fiery eyes still showing off the wild magic he was currently commanding.\n\n\"But... You're the hero of the whole land! The Queen offered you the hand of her daughter, yet you prefer to settle in this place? My town is nowhere near the prestige of Zaephyr, or the Banaum Port, or...\" the man's explanation was cut short by one single hand of the mage, still focused on the construction.\n\n\"I particularly enjoy the taste of recently baked spiced bread in the morning. But not many people had the luxury of preparing complex meals with the Dark Lord causing chaos and mayhem at their doors. So I had two options. Not enjoying my bread... Or taking care of the problem myself.\"\n\nA last surge of magic later, and the two-story building was now fitting nicely on the street, a metal sign on its front. \"Mythic Bread and Delicate Pastries\".\n\n&#x200B;"
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[WP] The demon lord has infiltrated the hero's party for a few years now to try to learn all of their secrets and weaknesses. Funnily enough he has learnt to enjoy the adventuring life, though invading his own strongholds is still a bit awkward.
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"I felt my form ripple as I worked on the double doors. “Get the doors!” Mig shouted over the sound of his sword striking and glancing off something armored. I turn my head to look, fingers still fiddling with the door’s massive lock. It was well crafted, if I do say so myself. Mig and Sandra were engaged by the armored frog like creatures I used as my guards. \nI looked back at the door and tried to find a way out. But I could delay no longer. It was do or die. I slipped my hand into my pouch and pulled out the key for the door and turned it. That key would disable the trap in the door. One of the large doors in front of me started opening. I stepped of to the side staying as close to the darkness as I could. This close I could feel the resonance, and I knew it would be increasingly difficult to hold this form. \nMig and Sandra backed away form the guards towards the doors, and the destined confrontation. I Slipped in along with them, moving to the nearest island of darkness. After they were through the doors started to close. The guards would not be entering this room, they knew better than to do that. \nI looked around the intimately familiar room. A raised dais was located towards the far wall, on it sat a throne made of writhing bodies, their tortured faces distorted by agony. Next to it was table with a pulsing orb, the orb of dominion. That was what I felt resonating with my life, with my energy. The rest of the chamber was decorated with various tapestries and art depicting pain and agony. There were none of the enchanted pieces other than the throne itself that created the movements of agony for all to enjoy. \n“Shouldn’t the arch demon Luthrindral be sitting there?” Sandra asked pensively looking around the room. Her eyes seeming to lock onto the empty throne for a bit longer than any of the other art displayed. \nI could maybe put it off a little longer, “There is a resting chamber, the door to it is behind the throne and the dais.” I say to them still trying to break the resonance’s effect on me. But I knew it wouldn’t work and I would be revealed soon. So, I just tried to savor every moment before the inevitable. \nWhen Mig turned to look at me skeptically I knew it was up before he even asked his question. Had I not spoken then it could have lasted a little longer. “How did you know about the resting chamber?” he asked. \nMy back convulsed as my true form worked on reasserting itself. The change was always painful and sometimes there were other unintended side effects. I choked back a scream before answering my voice changing in pitch as I spoke, “It’s been a fun adventure.” My vision cleared as my vantage point rose dramatically, and I saw my two companions looking at me. In one I could see the look of someone utterly betrayed. The other one held confusion and barely controlled terror. I saw the Orb flash as it sensed a venerable mind. Even if I had wanted to, I could not have stopped it as it struck at Sandra’s less protected mind. her free hand rose quickly to her head but she held on to her weapon, her knuckles going white from the effort of not dropping it and clutching her head with both hands. Her blue eyes glazing at the on slot. Soon she would be thrilled to the orb, to me just like so many before her. \nThe pain and anguish were a great accent to my throne room, but it couldn’t last. Mig Shifted his grip and charged me. He auburn hair streaming behind him as he moved. I flexed my wings, hitting him with a gust of wind, stalling his charge. \n“I can honestly saw that adventuring with you was fun. But alas playtime is over.” I reached out and summoned a flaming sword. “Lets finish this adventure, Friend.” I lifted my blade and smiled. He flinched as I called him a friend. I saw movement behind him and knew he had been completely betrayed by the entirety of his party now. Sandra, moved silently behind him before stabbing her blade carefully through the gab in the back of his armor. \nHe screamed in pain and agony, and I watched from the corner of my eyes as my throne’s writhing changed to be in rhythm with the newest sounds of agony. I reached out a clawed hand to Sandra and lead her away from her dying friend towards both the thrown and my desired location, my resting room, I had not slept in a good pile of rotting corpses in far to long. But some times you need to make sacrifices when your out adventuring.\n",
"BRIGHTER LIGHTS, DARKER SHADOWS - PART I: VALS\n\n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\n\nA week had passed since the adventuring trio first entered the misty fortress. Lysander dredged forward, holding his glassy lumen blade ahead of him. The soft blue glow emanating from the blade reflected off of the dark obsidian and polished marble that was all too common within this place to light the path ahead. The group was weary from battling Asmodine’s endless sea of minions. After one too many close calls the party quickly learned that the minions only existed to obscure the nefarious traps Asmodine had scattered across her domain. Somehow the small adventuring group was able to avoid the each of the deadly pitfalls. From the mirror maze to the formless dopplegangers that sought to turn them against each other, Lysander’s party seemed to come out just barely a step ahead of it all. Their survival thus far was no doubt thanks to the keen perception of Vals, their devoted cleric who drew his power from the goddess Isra.\n\nThe group approached a large tunnel lined with obsidian crystals. At the end there was a large set of silver-lined doors. This was no doubt the entry way to the night chamber of Asmodine, the Nephilim cardinal that rules this place.\n\nAris, the sun-haired archer stepped forward. Normally she was more cautious but perhaps the fatigue was getting to her.\n\n“Wait! Stop!” Vals dashed forward and grabbed the young elf by the green hood that dangled from her travelling cloak. As Eris took the first step into the hallway, a line of crystals broke from the wall and clashed in front of her. A ball of jagged shards fell to the floor. Aris’ eyes grew wide at the realization that if she took just two more steps forward, she would have been at the center of that ball.\n\n“Isra’s mercy!” Lysander cursed. “How are we going to get past that? The hall stretches for a good 50 feet, there’s no way we could run through it.” He pointed the lumen blade down the hall, where its blue light reflected off the silver engravings etched on the doors at the end. They were so close, yet so far. Reaching this point was almost a bittersweet victory for the party. While they made it to the final chamber, they also began to doubt if they had the stamina left to vanquish the cardinal herself.\n\nAris peered down the crystalline hall and huffed “I’m fast but definitely not fast enough to make it through that.” She was clearly still shaken by her earlier misstep and really didn’t want to try her luck with the trap a second time.\n\nVals stepped forward and calmly spoke. “Fear not, children of Isra. Our goddess provides for those that serve under her gold-feathered wings.” Vals unholstered his holy tome from its casing at his side and opened it. Runes of light spilled forth from the pages and Vals re-arranged them into a spell. A golden nimbus of light surrounded him, forming a barrier. He grinned at the group before stepping into the hall.\n\nAris and Lysander gasped as the obsidian shards violently barraged Vals' shield, ultimately failing to penetrate its thick layers of protective light. He motioned for his two awe-struck party members to stop standing at the tunnel’s entrance and join him within the shielding bubble.\n\n“Coming?” He beckoned.\n\n(CONT)",
"It had been long ago since Monde Rold infiltrated the heroes party. \n\nHe was the demon lord. They would kill him one day, but for now, he would play along. After all, he had left the most trust worthy person he knew in charge. Well, trustworthy in demon tongue meant closest adversary really. But such was the life of those born under such a star as the demons were. \n\nThe demons were creatures who crawled below the earth, clawing at the world above with begging words. Angels flew high above, barely looking down upon anything. Which was closer to the soil of earth? The angels, for they would be welcomed with open arms. The world would watch demons grovel, as they fought against bad luck and the earth that showed them no mercy.\n\nMonde was born at everyone's feet, but now, at the very least, he could say he was a king. A king whose crown meant nothing, made of fools gold. Yet he would still wear it with pride as the world laughed. The other races could call them what they liked, but to be born fallen meant there was nothing below, only an up. So they could laugh and jeer all they wished, but if he could still see a star ahead, he would follow. \n\nThat was one thing that could not be taken. Those stars that shine in the dark, slaughtered by the light of their better during daytime, but shining when their better fell, capturing souls and holding the eyes of many hostage. Monde could be thought of as the moon, the better of all stars, yet it still let them shine as best they could in the safety of nighttime.\n\nThough the world would never see it that way. \n\n\"Monde! Monde! Monde get up or so help me, I am dumping you into the lake!\" The main hero slapped his unknown adversary across the face. \n\n\"What was that for?!\" Monde shouted at the blond swordsman, holding his own cheek.\n\n\"You wouldn't wake up without it!\" \n\n\"How does someone even fall asleep standing up?\" A young blue haired girl sat at a table across the room, her own eyes drooping.\n\n\"Wait! You two, hold that pose!\" A princess like female sketched the two, at an almost scary speed. \"It's awesome, you two will make a great painting! Two adventurers, like night and day, fighting for an unknown reason, it's a story for the viewer to piece together!\"\n\n\"Can you please stop using us as your art projects?\" Monde sighed in exasperation.\n\n\"I doubt she will... it IS kind of her thing.\"\n\n\"Make it not be!\" \n\n\"I refuse! Those back at the castle will love the drawings I've put together of you two!\" \n\n\"Drawings...? Lenga, talk some sense into her!\" The leader of the group only laughed, clearly not taking as much offence, or being as upset by the prospect of being drawn without his permission. \n\n\"You really need to get that stick out of your ass Monde...\" Another girl, a bit older than the princess and blue haired girl spoke from behind the leader.\n\n\"Heme! There are children here!\" \n\n\"Sorry Lenga... but the point still stands! Wait a minute! Monde swears just as much as I do!\" \n\n\"No I don't!\" \n\nIt was strange, for an uncrowned king to be arguing and laughing with his enemies. Though it was all a lie. Nothing about this world, these people, or the happiness they shared was real. It was a mere falsehood formed by a creature that was born to lie, cheat, and steal. \n\nIf Monde was the moon among stars that stood with the world, Lenga was the sun above all that gave the light everyone craved. \n\n\nThe sun may have cast light on everything, but it blocked out every star, and silenced all the screams of the stars begging to be seen. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nHe also silenced the moon.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\"All I'm saying is that Eliza stop painting me without asking! Is it that hard to grasp?!\" \n\n\"But once people start posing, it stops looking as good!\"\n\n\nLenga smiled to himself at everyone's antics. But he then stopped and pulled out a piece of parchment from his spatial storage ring. It was the most recent map of another demon lord stronghold. There was one room where statues of those he had slain were kept. Lenga could only imagine cruel mockeries. \"I'll kill that bastard,\" He muttered under his breath.\n\nAnd yes, it was rather awkward for Monde. \n\n\"What're you looking at?\" Heme peeked over the blonde man's shoulder, and saw the map. \"That the place we'll be raiding?\"\n\n\"Huh? Yeah.\"\n\n\"Let's go team!\"\n\nA bit later, everyone was sneaking around inside the stronghold.\n\nInvading the strongholds built by the invader always felt a bit weird for Monde. \n\nHe was sneaking around people who might have recognized him if they saw him, and he was stealing things he owned. Then, the group snuck into the room his guilt had built. But it wasn't how Monde has left it. The beautiful statues he had commissioned were in pieces, and the plates full of names had been ruined. \nWho could have been so cruel as to ruin a graveyard?\n\n",
"\"Wait!\" cried Halberd, grabbing Lucy by her shoulder and yanking her backwards as an array of spears shot out of the walls on either side. She stumbled back on top of him, knocking him over with a yelp.\n\nHalberd began extricating himself from underneath Lucy, berating her as he did so.\n\n\"If I hadn't pulled you away when I did, you'd have *died.* Do you understand? Those spears aren't for show! Not only would you be skewered, they're poisoned as well.\"\n\nLucy nodded, looking down at the floor in silence. Halberd sighed, casting a glance back at the rest of the ragtag group that he'd infiltrated for a long time now. They knew him as Miller, and while Glaen was considered the de facto leader of the party, Halberd was the one that they turned to when Glaen's leadership skills came up short.\n\nAnd come up short they often did.\n\nGlaen was headstrong, and while he wasn't stupid, he acted with a reckless abandon unsuited for a leader. Lucy was a naive, clumsy youngster, and Halberd found himself frequently yanking her out of harm's way, quite literally. Arya considered herself a master marksman, despite her nearsightedness and propensity for overshooting her targets, not to mention her uselessness in a close quarters fight, which entailed nearly all of their encounters, since they were dungeon crawlers. Bjorn in spite of his considerable size and strength wasn't the fighting type; despite being fiercely protective of his friends, he was hopeless in an actual brawl.\n\nThe party of adventurers would likely have failed in their quest to topple Halberd from his throne years ago, if it hadn't been for Halberd himself aiding them. His original intention was to scout out their weaknesses, but as it had turned out, this was unnecessary; they would have all perished on their first raid on his weakest stronghold, assuming they managed to make it that far at all. \n\nGlaen seemed to snap out of a trance, and hurried over to Lucy, helping her to her feet, while Arya stared at the spears in horror as they retracted into the wall with a baleful grinding noise. Bjorn was looking at Glaen and Lucy with a hapless expression on his face, shifting awkwardly at the back of the group.\n\nThere were times that Halberd wondered if the heroes mentioned in legend were an entirely different group, and he had made a mistake. Perhaps the real heroes wouldn't appear for another century or two, or even a millennia. Nevertheless, he felt pity for the group that he'd infiltrated; he was a demon, not a monster, and had developed an almost fatherly attachment to them.\n\nHalberd crossed his arms with a disappointed expression. \"Lucy. I've told you over and over... you need to stay at the rear of the group. Bjorn can't protect you if you're in front of him! And if you wander too far ahead, this is what will happen! Traps are designed to pick off stray travellers like you, Lucy. Do I make myself clear?\"\n\nLucy nodded miserably. Halberd turned to Bjorn.\n\n\"Bjorn, it's also your responsibility to blaze a trail for the group! They all rely on you for protection, so *protect.* You have a shield and a spear, use them!\" Without warning Halberd snatched Bjorn's spear away from him before Bjorn could even blink. He brandished it in front of the whole group, then struck a loose cobblestone with a sharp *PING.* The spears shot out of the walls once more, and Bjorn flinched.\n\nTossing Bjorn's spear back to him, Halberd turned to Glaen. \"And you, Glaen. You should be the one telling them this, not me. You're the leader. They should all look to you when things go wrong, and you should be able to not only reassure them, but be able to *act* on your own words.\"\n\nGlaen swallowed hard. \"Yes, Miller, I... I know—\"\n\n\"Do you?\" interrupted Halberd. \"Do you really know, or are you saying that because you're ashamed of your mistakes? A leader doesn't make excuses, he takes responsibility for his shortcomings. And mistakes are made to learn from, not to hide from others in order to keep face.\"\n\nGlaen did not look up, his face flushing red.\n\n\"I'm beginning to think that you're not prepared to go any further. None of you are.\" exclaimed Halberd. \"You're about to square up against a dark lord, commander of hordes of nightmarish entities and eldritch abominations. And yet you nearly lose a member of the group not five minutes past the front gate to a *spear trap!*\" growled Halberd. \"And don't forget, this lord is nothing but an underling to the high demon that you've all set out to defeat. How do you expect to stand even a shred of a chance against the demon lord Halberd at this rate?\"\n\nNone of them said anything as he glowered at them. \"Do I need to turn this party around?\" he demanded. Glaen took a deep breath, then looked up, unwavering under Halberd's furious glare.\n\n\"No... no, we'll press forward.\" Turning around, he gestured to Bjorn. \"Come on then, get up front. Hold that shield up high, I'll be right behind you. And Lucy,\" he said, glancing back at her, \"You're at the back of the group. Don't fall too far behind, got it?\"\n\nDrawing his short sword, he tapped the cobblestone that Halberd had struck earlier, noting how long it took for the spears to retract once they had sprung. \"All right, I'm going to trip the spears again. Once I do, we make a run for the other side. Got it?\" The others nodded. A approving grin creeped across Halberd's face.\n\nGlaen adjusted his grip on the sword several times, his hands trembling nervously. He took another deep breath, then struck the stone, flinching as the spears shot out from the walls. After a moment, the spears began to slide back into their slots, and once there was enough space between them, he shouted \"Now!\"\n\nThe others jumped, then began scrambling to make it across the hallway as Glaen dashed forward. One by one they made it across, Lucy nearly tripping at the end, but managing to catch herself, she joined the rest of the group just as the spears shot out again.\n\nGlaen whooped, raising his arms in victory, before realizing that there was someone missing. He looked back to see Halberd standing at the other end of the hall, where they'd started. He smirked as Glaen's victorious grin was replaced by a crestfallen expression.\n\n\"Never forget to glance behind yourself every now and then, Glaen. A leader should have eyes in the back of their head, but since that's a figure of speech, you still need to turn around!\" Halberd shouted.\n\n\"Not only that, but...\" said Halberd, walking up to the wall just before the spear trap, prying loose a stone and reaching into a hole hidden behind it. \"A leader should examine all his options!\"\n\nA loud click resounded, and Halberd withdrew his hand. He leapt straight into the spear trap without warning, eliciting a cry from the rest of the group. To their surprise, the spears remained in their slots.\n\nChuckling, Halberd strolled across the disabled trap to rejoin the group. \n\n\"Don't *do that,* Miller!\" exclaimed Lucy, tears welling up in her eyes as she glared at him reproachfully.\n\n\"I wasn't in any danger, don't fret. What I did was far less risky than your approach, Glaen; remember that next time. Yours wasn't the worst solution, however. You got us all across safely. I'm proud.\"\n\nGlaen stifled a grin, which did not go unnoticed by Halberd. He clapped a hand on Glaen's shoulder, nearly knocking him over, and asked: \"What's next then?\"\n\n\"We press forward!\" exclaimed Glaen with a determined air.\n\nHalberd raised an eyebrow. \"We press forward *and...?*\"\n\nGlaen seemed to deflate slightly. \"We press forward and... keep an eye out for traps...\"\n\nHalberd's eyebrow did not lower.\n\n\"...and an eye out for each other.\" said Glaen in defeat.\n\n\"Ha *ha!* The boy gets it now!\" bellowed Halberd, clapping his hands. \"Right then. Off we go!\" \n\nGlaen straightened slightly, waiting for Bjorn to take his place at the front, then motioned for the rest to follow as the two of them set off down the hall. Every now and then he would cast a glance behind him, then look away quickly after noticing Halberd watching him with a bemused expression.\n\nHalberd hoped that Lord Dirke had received his message warning of Halberd's arrival, novice adventurers of legend in tow. It would be a very awkward situation if Dirke wasn't expecting his master to pop in unannounced...\n\n\nr/Sagas_of_Sobrii"
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[WP] You have been asked to write a script for a new movie. You have been given the options of fantasy, action, and horror. As you sit and start to write, you notice that what you are writing has started to happen in the real world.
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"~~Okay, here goes...~~\n\nSo I was approached by a small movie studio to write a new action movie for them. I have been writing novels in my spare time for years, and haven't been too successful with them, so this is my first major gig. At least in my eyes.\n\nUnfortunately, my laptop is being repaired right now, but I did find an old typewriter in a cupboard. Must have belonged to the previous owner of the apartment. The ink cartridge was still good.\n\nI decided to start writing on it. It took me a while to come up with something. I'm not used to writing action stories.\n\nSo the story starts off with a car chase scene, an armed robbery has been committed, and the police are chasing them throughout the city. Coincidentally, I start to hear an alarm go off in a bank, and police sirens. That helps paint the picture in my head, I guess.\n\nThen the passenger of the van being chased has a rocket launcher, and immediately fires it at the police car.\n\nBOOM!\n\nI hear a massive explosion and look outside, and right enough, a police car gets blown up.\n\nThat can't have just been a coincidence, could it?\n\nI grabbed a blank piece of paper, and put it in the typewriter, and decided to test it out. I struggled to come up with an example sentence.\n\n'My TV turns on by itself'\n\nThen I heard some noises on the TV in my living room. Huh.\n\nI wasn't entirely convinced, anything could have done that. I decided to try something else.\n\n'It was the news, announcing the sky falling!'\n\nThe TV station changed, \"...We have heard reports all over the country of the sky falling?\". My eyes widened, I looked over to the TV to see a very confused reporter.\n\nA smile crept on my face. This could be fun.\n\n'The reporter jumps excitedly'\n\nHe looks around to see the reporter jumping like crazy. Yep, it works.\n\n'My books suddenly become best sellers, and I make millions!'\n\nNothing happened... oh of course, the cheque needs time to arrive!\n\n'I find a finished script in the drawer under the desk this typewriter is on.'\n\nI check the drawer, and right enough, there is a complete script. I package it, and get ready to hand it in to the studio.\n\nOn my way to the studio, I see everyone reading my books. This is great! I see quite a few people look bored reading them and some throwing them to the side.\n\nOh well, I guess it's not for everyone.\n\nSo I hand in the script to the studio, and quickly make my way home.\n\nI decide to go crazy and help the world with this.\n\n'Africa is no longer starving and has water... \nAll dictators die of a heart attack...\nChina becomes a democracy...\nThe UK breaks up and Ireland reunites.'\n\nI turn on the news on TV, and the news outlets going crazy with all that has happened! This is great!\n\nYou know what? Screw it! I'm growing impatient! I'm going to treat myself!\n\n'I suddenly have 1 billion in my account!'\n\nI check my mobile banking app, and what a sight it is! All of those zeros!\n\nI decide to go out and spoil myself a bit, buy a new car, the latest mobile phone, every game console imaginable.\n\nAs I was sitting in a cafe, I get a phone call from the studio.\n\n\"Hey\", I said, \"What did you think?\"\n\n\"Is this some kind of joke?\", he asked,\n\n\"...What are you talking about?\", I ask, puzzled,\n\n\"First of all, this script has somebody else's name on it, and second, I asked you to do an action scene, not a chick flick! If you were going to do this to me, the very least you could do is write it properly! This makes no sense! It has so many plot holes, I could pour pepper out of this script!\"\n\nAh crap! I didn't specify the script I wanted!\n\n\"Right, erm... I'll get a proper one sent to you right away!\"\n\n\"Don't bother! You're fired!\"\n\n\"No no! Give me another cha-\"\n\nBeep!\n\nOh great... Ah well, with this type writer, I can make thing ri-\n\n\"This is the police. You're under arrest for money laundering.\", I was surrounded by police officers. \n\nAh crap, the money thing...\n\nI decide to make a run for it, quickly got in my car and drove off. I gotta fix this!\n\nI speed to my apartment building, climbing up the stairs. They're closing in on me!\n\nI make it to my apartment, and lock the door.\n\n\"We're on the verge of a world war III as these recently orphaned countries spiral into chaos!\", I heard on the TV\n\nI quickly ran to my typewriter as my door was being beat down. I wanted to undo everything, but all of the noise distracted me from thinking of the right words. Then it came to me just as my front door was forced open.\n\n'Then I wake up, it was all a dream.'\n\n...beep... beep... beep... beep...\n\nI open my eyes, and turn off the alarm. I look around to see if my apartment had been broken into. Everything seemed fine. I turned on the TV, and it doesn't seem like anything out of the ordinary has happened.\n\nIt worked.\n\nI looked over at the typewriter, and saw what I wrote. It was all still there.\n\nI decided to dispose of the typewriter. I phoned the studio to say my computer broke, and wasn't able to work on the script.\n\nThey gave me a spare to use for now. How kind of them.\n\nTime to do things properly this time. I have a great idea for a script now...",
"It worked, it really worked. Before him stood a tall slender elven woman garbed in nothing but the scantly sewn leaf bikini he had described in his draft. There was just one thing, he had accidentally written that she was a kung-fu master hell-bent on killing every human she could find. The writer was horrified, how could he let his hubris lead him so astray?\n\n\"HUMAN! THIS IS WHERE YOU DIE!\" she made some culturally questionable kung-fu sounds and twirled her nunchucks over her shoulders and under her legs.\n\n\"Wait! we can talk legolass, what would your father uhhh\" fuck he thought, he had forgotten to write her father in, such an amateur mistake.\n\n\"NO! the time for diplomacy has past! I could care less what you think!\" oh no he thought again, he had forgotten to fix that bit. She leapt at him and attacked, he had no time to think, he got up and ran to the kitchen. He needed a weapon, something to defend himself with. She easily caught up.\n\n\"Look! it's the dwarven queen of the world, Gimily!\" he pointed behind her. She turned around, dwarves were the archnemesii of the elves. He was grateful but slightly dissapointed, am I a bad writer? he thought to himself as he picked up the frying pan.\n\n\"Hohoho you humans lie so much, it's sicke-\" He banged her over the head. He was saddened as he stood there watching her unconcious on the floor. He walked to his computer and highlighted the draft titled \"the lordess of the rings\". He pressed shift+delete, a tear falling solemnly from his eye. Meagan Mcarthy would have made a perfect Gimily he thought to himself sadly.\n\nHe gathered himself and sat at his laptop once more. At the top of the draft he wrote the working title: \"star whores, the last pink-eye\". Fuck it he thought, he was going to take advantage of this. He wrote the first line. *Please don't be too rough, i'm force sensitive, she grabbed his lightsaber....*"
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[WP]You are a tattoo artist. Twice a year you take off for a week and come home with weird, antique treasure; like tarnished silver candlesticks. Everyone thinks you're a really lucky hobbyist treasure hunter. Your secret? These things are payment from the mermaids you are tattooing.
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"I’d never tell anyone that little secret. I loved being around mermaids. They were all so curious about the land. Their questions were amusing. Band yes, the treasure was great too. The best piece came from a mermaid who asked for a flower, like the ones I had in hanging baskets on my houseboat, on her shoulder. It was a tricky one to do because she already had a rather large sunset muril on her back. I didn’t want the two to be too close together. I ended up doing it so the stem went on her upper arm. She was so thrilled with it that she gave me an old diadem. I kid you not, a small crow for a two inch tattoo! There’s so much stuff that got lost in shipwrecks that they don’t know what to do with it all.",
"I still couldn’t believe Sarah had let me come along. \n\nThough it was probably only because her Amex had been declined, when she’d tried to rent a boat that morning. Someone in Belarus had maxed out the card. She was taking care of it, but in the short-term, she had no way of renting a boat for the night. \n\nEnter me. Hero of the story. And avid fisherman; I enjoyed taking my boat out over the weekend, spending the day on the water with a cooler full of light beer and my father’s fishing pole. I wasn’t the best fisherman, but I could usually catch at least one, maybe two. \n\nWe’re getting off-track. Sarah needed a boat on short-notice. I had one. I also had plans for the night. She offered me half of whatever she got that night.\n\nI’d seen some of the treasures she’d brought back. Trinkets, small but clearly made of precious metals like gold and silver. And old, very old; she'd explained, when I asked her once, how a candelabra was of British origin, from the 1600's. And the tarnished bracelet on her wrist was made of Spanish gold. Some of her treasures looked like they would fetch a nice price. And I had bills coming due. So I cancelled the date I had with my girlfriend, and met Sarah at the docks just as the sun was going down. \n\nI frowned, when I saw that all she carried was a medium-sized Pelican case. “Do you need help getting stuff from your car?” I asked. \n\n“Nope. This is it.” Sarah walked past me. “We have to hurry, John, we’re running late. Which one’s yours?”\n\n“Um... over here.” I trotted to keep up, thoroughly confused. “What do you mean, we’re running late? Is there a time table I should be aware of?”\n\n“Yes.” Sarah looked at the boat, studying the name. “Linda’s Legs? Seriously?”\n\n“My father named it.”\n\n“Why don’t you change it to something less cringe-inducing?”\n\n“Because it’s bad luck. What, exactly, are we doing?”\n\n“We don’t have time.” Sarah climbed into the boat. “I’ll explain on the way, but we need to be leaving. Right now.”\n\nI was a little annoyed, but my curiosity was too piqued to argue with her. I quickly untied us from the dock before I stepped into the pilot house, turning the keys and starting the engines. Moving slowly, I took us out of my spot and drove past all of the other boats, heading for the open waters.\n\nSarah joined me in the pilot house as we left the low-speed area. \"You going to tell me where we're headed?\" I asked.\n\n\"Due East.\" She took something I couldn't see from her pocket, studying it before she put it back. \"About ten miles out.\"\n\nI pushed up on the throttles, the boat engines getting louder. \"Do you have coordinates? A GPS marker? Something I can follow?\"\n\n\"No. Due East.\" She pointed at the compass next to the wheel. \"I'll let you know when to start slowing down. But you need to move quickly. I was supposed to be there twenty minutes ago.\"\n\n\"Are we meeting someone?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nI waited for her to elaborate, but she didn't. \"What's in the box?\" I finally asked. \"Is it, like, a rebreather or something? Or are we meeting someone with scuba gear?\"\n\nShe stepped forward, looking out the window. \"Are you going to go faster, or what?\"\n\nOkay, I was curious, but I was also extremely apprehensive at how she was dodging my questions. I took the throttle and immediately decreased power to the engines.\n\nHer head whipped around as we started to slow. \"What the hell are-\"\n\n\"I'm slowing down,\" I interrupted. \"You want to get to wherever we're going? Stop being cagey, and playing games.\" I took my hands off the wheel and folded my arms. \"I've seen what you bring back from your little excursions. There's no way they don't come from underwater. You're going to have me believe that you don't need scuba gear, or any diving equipment, to get them? I want to know what, EXACTLY, we're doing.\"",
"Why would a mermaid want a tattoo? I’ve never actually got an answer just payment, which is all I really need usually I like to have a small chat when I’m working but Majestic never really talked much. yes all mermaids do have stripper names, I don’t know how a mermaid every heard the word Mercedes but down there, names are all pulled from a Midwest strip club.\n\nI wish the story of meeting Majestic was as interesting as she was, Craigslist is a strange place and that’s all there is to say she need a tattoo, I was an unemployed Tattoo artist and it we struck the only honest deal ever on Craigslist. Some of you are probably wondering what mermaids look like well the bottom bit is just a fish and the top big is just fantastic, it’s like two bouncy aids held on with string. \n\nThe mermaid society is a complete mystery to me, apparently I’m an outsider and conversation is a bit stilted, mermaids apparently don’t have computers and live in a magical world without the magic, that looks sort of like Miami but underwater, so Miami in fifty years. I think she’s lying to me, how did she use Craigslist without a computer, she might just be a really committed cosplayer or a wet non furry,furry. I hope she isn’t though, mermaids are strange enough for me,but those lunatics are to much.\n\nThe tattoo itself was a really specific human thing, I wondered were she heard it, mermaids must have YouTube, or a sea based tube like wetube, if wetube isn’t a porn site. She wanted the full lyrics to Africa by toto, I don’t know why, but maybe it’s a song that can be straight fire even under water.\n\nShe pays me after each session, she offered me a million lira but they were all damp and no bank would take them. I instead get little nick nicks and other rubbish from the sea, a empty lifeboat and a grandfather clock, she also returned some plastic bags to me, we dumped so much shit in the ocean she’s just throwing it back really.\n\nI could never really explain this to my wife so to her, I’m just a fisherman that collects any shit that washes up on shore.\n\n***More of my terrible Stories*** r/gliggett"
] | 3
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[WP] You are an extremely friendly person, everyone you know considers you among their closest friends. Turns out all your friends are demons, and they are unsure whether to drag you to hell to chill forever or let you go to heaven to enjoy eternal bliss as a thank-you gift.
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"**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n**Reminders**:\n\n>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include \"[Poem]\"\n>* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail\n>* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A\\(Reality+Fiction\\)&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A\\(Simple+Prompt\\)&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles\n>* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules)\n\n[](#icon-help) [^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^•\n[](#icon-information) [^(New Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^•\n[](#icon-help) [^(Writing Help?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) ^•\n[](#icon-exclamation) [^(Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) ^•\n[](#icon-comments) [^(Discord Chatroom)](https://discord.gg/XYsEYfS)\n\n*I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.*",
"\"Say that again, but slowly...\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\nI couldn't believe what I was hearing. My closest friends, the 2 I had all throughout high school had just told me they were demons. Like, REAL demons. I had always been agnostic, I really never knew what to believe. I had always just been the best person I could be, I was friendly... friendlier than friendly. I would take a bullet not only for my friends, but anyone. I've been called all of it, Angel, Good Kid, Sport, the whole lot of 'em.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nOne of my friends, Bruce, piked up. \"We're DEMONS, Peter. From Hell, actual demons. What's so hard to understand?\" I responded, \"Probably because demons are supposed to be in Hell... right? Were you on vacation when you met me? Off on a break from eternal damnation?\" My other friend, John, said \"No, we were born and raised in Hell. As demons. Nobody just... BECOMES a Demon. You're either born a demon or not, born on Earth, born in Heaven, anything goes really. Hell is basically Earth just always on fire... the screaming takes some getting used to, but being eternally damned isn't all bad!\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\nI gawked. The one place your supposed to avoid, and now I'm being told it all actually exists and they want me to be in Hell with them. Fuck no, if I have a ticket to Heaven why wouldn't I go to Heaven? Doesn't make any sense. I responded, \"So... Hell and Heaven exists, and you're telling me Hell is just as good as Heaven?\n\n&#x200B;\n\nJohn said \"Not just as good, *better*. Heaven is God's realm, so everything you're not allowed to do in the Bible you can't do there. And if you do any of them, you are eternally damned and sentenced to eternal torture. Hell is awesome as long as your not there for punishment, it's just like Earth but better. We'd chill and have no responsibility for the rest of eternity. All the weed you can smoke, all the beer you can drink, all the exclusive movies and video games which are way better than anything on Earth, and the chicks?! Bro, hotter than hot. And not only that, but Satan is probably the chillest guy you'll ever meet.\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\nI gawked for a second time. SATAN is a chill dude?!?! Hell no, if that were true than everything I've ever known is a lie. Everything... so the question now is, do I take the chance and allow myself to be dragged down to Hell? Or do I live the rest of my life here and kick it with the Lord after I die? Hmm... \"What makes Satan the chillest dude around?\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\nBruce responded, \"Bro, he doesn't even like torturing the damned. It's boring, it gets old after 4.543 billion years. At this point the damned are just put torture machines and left there, they do all the work now. Satan just kicks back and has a good time. He into pretty much anything any young adult is into. Video Games, Movies, Internet Videos... anything electronic really. He's not a manchild, but not responsible either.\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\nHuh. Sounds like a good deal. I don't really feel like spending another 40 or so years on Earth anyway... and these ARE my closest friends. Maybe Hell isn't so bad, I'm gonna go.\n\n \n\"Alright, fine, let's go. Drag me down whenev\\~\n\n \nSuddenly, the ground seemed to glow and I was erupted in flames. There was no pain, although, that isn't to say I wasn't panicking. As I screamed bloody murder, several sets of arms and hands grabbed at me and managed to get a hold of my shirt and jeans. I could feel the concrete separate and wrap around my legs as I sunk down below. Soon enough, I fell through a couple meters onto a bed of hot rock and gravel... that part hurt. As I looked up, I saw reddish lights and what looked to be an city... except, it stretched as far as my eyes could see. There were shops for literally everything and an incredible area of homes. One was a mansion, standing alone, different from all the others, and guess where me and my friends were headed? Hell wasn't hell. Hell was just the first part... no, this place's name was Hell YEAH!!!\n\n&#x200B;\n\n&#x200B;",
"After learning the truth of my friends demonic origins, I was immediately fascinated. I invited them all over to drink and smoke and party and eventually asked to see their true forms. They looked at each other, shrugged, and began shape shifting violently into horrible, disfigured beings. Blood and flesh splattered all throughout my house as they tore through their human disguises to reveal themselves. I was bugging the fuck out. I thought it was the coolest shit I had ever seen. I looked in astonishment as they were shotgunning beers and chugging Jack Daniels through a beer funnel. I joined in hardcore as I gunned almost 5 natty lites myself. My friend Pete (who’s real name ended up being Kukudh the Vile) presented me with an unopened bottle of Pineapple Ciroc. He put his foul hand on my shoulder and whispered to me “ Send it.” I looked into his soulless eyes and cracked the seal of the bottle. I cocked back and started chugging like I never have before. My Demon friends lost their shit and cheered me on as I mucked the entire handle of Ciroc. Things began to fade as I blacked the fuck out. I woke up the next morning on my boys floor in the 7th circle of the pits of Hell. Apparently that night I straight up fucked my own couch and then tried to backflip off my roof but died. The cool part was, because of how hard I absolutely sent it that night, they let me come back with them and turned me into one of the straight up Demon bros. Now every like 37 years we go back up and find someone to corrupt and drag back down with us to join the squad. Hell of a time we have."
] | 3
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[WP] You had been the fat kid in high school, you knew it and everyone else did too. Skip along to your graduating class' 10 Year Reunion party, you enter, but no one quite recognises you.
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[
"**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n**Reminders**:\n\n>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include \"[Poem]\"\n>* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail\n>* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A\\(Reality+Fiction\\)&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A\\(Simple+Prompt\\)&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles\n>* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules)\n\n[](#icon-help) [^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^•\n[](#icon-information) [^(New Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^•\n[](#icon-help) [^(Writing Help?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) ^•\n[](#icon-exclamation) [^(Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) ^•\n[](#icon-comments) [^(Discord Chatroom)](https://discord.gg/XYsEYfS)\n\n*I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.*",
"My wife smiled brightly next to me as I poured us some punch. She was so happy for me, she’d been there with through it all. I didn’t even want to come to my reunion. I was never picked on as a kid but I always felt out of place. \n\nNow standing here, no longer the fat kid with brunette hair, the whispers and surprised looks were making my stomach knot up. I was skinnier but not rail thin, still had a little pudge to me, and my hair had turned a light blondish color as I got older. \n\n“Everyone seems so proud of you honey.”\n\nMy wife rubbed my back and I mustered a small smile. Someone tapped me on the shoulder and greeted my wife politely.\n\n“Excuse me...Reggie?!”\n\nIt was Todd Marrow, an old classmate. Judging from his reaction I think he was about to ask if I ever went to this school.\n\n“Hey Todd...I don’t look that different do I?”\n\n“Dude everybody’s been standing trying to figure who were for the past twenty minutes. My God look at you...and look at your date.”\n\nMy wife blushed with a flattered smile. I just nodded, I still didn’t want to be here... "
] | 2
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