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[WP] Hell consists of one room, in which you meet the person you could have been. | I sat in an bland white room. There was a door, a table with a chair on either end, and a black screen that must have been a one-way mirror. There were words written on the wall that said, "just talk". There was a knock at the door. I turned in my chair to face the door and said, "Umm. Come in?".
It opened slowly. I wasn't sure what I should have expected, I did not expect to see myself. He seemed just as confused and surprised as I was. He came into the room and hesitantly had a seat. For a few moments, it was silent. He spoke first, "So. What?" I pointed at the words on the wall.
We went through introductions, then delved into our personalities, likes and dislikes, our taste in music, we touched on almost everything. We both had the same name, same parents, same birtplace and date, same greatest fears, same hobbies, and we both had the same tell that we were lying. It forced us to be honest. We were each other. We laughed for quite a while when we realized what was happening. We laughed even harder because we didn't think it had worked.
We thought the point was to show us what we could have been. That one of us was going to hell and the other was going to heaven, and we were supposed to both see that we could have done better or worse, respectively. We kept talking.
"What did you do for a living?" He asked me. I told him I was an oil rigger. "It's good money, but in all honestly I wish I had gone with something different. Money never solved any of my problems." I said. "What about you, what did you do?"
"I was a paratrooper for 24 years. The pay was ass, but the benefits were good. I made enough to get by and had everything I wanted that could be bought." It was closer to home. The real questions we both wanted to know still hung in air, unanswered because they went unasked. I think we were both afraid to hear the answers, in case the other had something we didn't.
In the empty room, neither of us spoke for almost an hour. I broke the silence. "What's your wife's name?" He looked up from the thumbs he was twiddling for the last fifteen minutes and leaned back in his chair. "Didn't have one." He said, confidently defiant. His eye twitched, it was a bluff. Not the words, the stance. "You?"
"Same. Never married, never even came close." I answered. He leaned forward and put his forearms on the table. A tear started rolled down his cheek. "Kids?" He said it as though that single word was everything to him. It was the only *real* question he asked, and he asked hundreds.
I felt tears falling down my own cheeks. I reached up and wiped my face, "No." I didn't ask if he had any. I didn't have to, I knew the answer. I turned to the one-way mirror and choked out, "So which of us goes to heaven and which of us goes to hell?"
A voice came over the intercom. It was not unkind. It lacked any traits of what the average person would call sinister or demonic. It just... was. "You are both already in hell."
I looked back at him, he was already bawling. Tears fell liberally down his cheeks while he raised an arm to cover his eyes. The front of his shirt was soaking wet and snot trails rolled onto his upper lip. I heard him wimper, and then I joined him.
Our name is Anthony Ahkeem. We were born on June 2nd, 1991 in a hospital on the south side of Chicago to Christopher McDonald and Joselyn White. We were abandoned by Christopher at the age of two and never saw him again. We grew up in a poor neighborhood riddled with crime and moved out of state at eighteen in search of a safer place to raise a family. Both of our careers were short, like our lives, and were in dangerous fields. We were two different people, but we were the same person.
What broke me was not that no matter what I did, I would be abandoned by my father. Or that I would always end up working in a dangerous field. Or that I would die at the age of 42 in a violent manner. None of that mattered.
What broke me was that no matter what I did, I would have never been loved. | The little one kept its elbows and knees close to its body. It appeared sound asleep and we reeled in the rare moment of peace.
It was correct to feel insecure. This is hell, after all. Only Satan might hazard a guess, why it did not immediately wail for a figure of protection and familiarity.
Or perhaps the answer was obvious: the warm, living prison that has come to be known as hell was not that much different from a womb. I wouldn't know, though.
We left it alone at first, until hell became its Hell. This was the form of our welcome, our graciousness to the infant who is seeing hell without seeing Man's world.
When the man arrived, Hell was complete. Everything else faded into oblivion, the baby's eyes opened and he saw the man he could have been.
Tall, well-built, confident, a father of two.
The baby understood the man he was facing was himself. He recalled the construct of hell, which he had almost forgotten when he left to be born.
This was an apparition of all of his possibilities, all that was lost in his death. Instead of mindless wailing, a single tear rolled down the cheek of the baby, a sight that seemed utterly unnatural.
A tear of regret.
---
He understood Hell. It was his own brown eyes that he was looking into. The baby was him, it was all that he had lost in the name of love and fame and "that's just the way the world works".
How low had he sunk? All the way into the pits of hell, it seemed. And he was condemned to be with the constant reminder of his own inadequacies, being too lost to retain his self, his purity.
He choked up when he saw the baby's silent tear, lamenting his life of mistakes.
---
Subscribe to my stories on [Fivens](https://fivenswrite.wordpress.com) | 2017-05-30T18:48:28 | 2017-05-30T17:18:25 | 182 | 50 |
[WP] You have your dream job and the best boss one could ever imagine. Unfortunately they also happen to be a secret super villain. Desperate to keep your job, and keep your boss out of jail, you must work to become his top henchman while simultaneously foiling every scheme they come up with. | Andreas Krimper risked a moment to wipe the sheen off his bald head, the brisk sound of their footsteps echoing through the high ceilings of Dr. Hellstrom's volcanic base. Hellstrom was still babbling on maniacally, eyes fixed on the aqua-blue glow of the central chamber's holo-projector. Krimper quickly tucked away his handkerchief, coming to a halt five steps behind his employer, arranging his face into an impassive scowl right as Hellstrom turned around.
"A perfect plan," Dr. Hellstrom said, with a gesture at the holographic globe. Skull icons lit up around the world in red, spreading out virally in hundreds of new dots. "The Stromphone 6 is already in shipment throughout the world. Little do those fools realize that the cell network merely serves as a carrier for my mind-control signal!" Krimper kept a straight face as the peaceful aquarium lighting slowly went blood-red, bathing the room in hellfire. Dr. Hellstrom's pupils were alight in pinprick points of blood. "And once we reach full saturation, the signal comes on, and I, Dr. Aleister Hellstrom, will be ruler of the free world!"
"Of course, Dr. Hellstrom," Krimper said, and took a step to the side and subtly lowered the lighting. "The world at your fingertips." He cleared his throat. "A shame, though..."
Hellstrom's eyes narrowed. "What? Go on, Krimper, what?"
"It's not my place to criticize..." Krimper said quickly, lowering his eyes. "It's a brilliant plan, Dr. Hellstrom, an absolutely brilliant plan-"
"Yes, yes, go on!" Hellstrom snapped, switching off the holo-projector, his face resuming its normal pallor. He scratched at his goatee. "Go on, Krimper, I give you permission to speak!"
"Well," Krimper said, tucking his hands behind his back. "It's simply that I would hate to see you not get the full adulation you deserve, sir. Mind-controlled servants, they're obedient, certainly, but it lacks the satisfaction of truly bending them to your will, of corrupting their spirits, of forcing them to recognize your true genius." He bowed his head. "Again, a brilliant plan, sir, I'm gratified to be able to serve you-"
"Hrrm," Hellstrom said, and lowered himself onto his high-backed command chair, steepling his fingers thoughtfully. "That is true enough, Krimper. There's little satisfaction in lording over puppets..."
"And it's just, as we are now, sir," Krimper said, circling around the chair and stooping to pick up Dr. Hellstrom's pet cat from his basket in the corner. Mephisto hissed at him once, but consented to be lifted out of his bed. "The Stromphone 6 is a sensation."
"Mere consumerism!" Hellstrom snorted. "I desire power, Krimper, power over men's souls! Not this petty wealth!"
"But just think, Dr. Hellstrom," Krimper said. "We've set up factories full of child slaves, working their fingers to the bone to manufacture your cellphones. Your strip mining operations for rare earth metals are razing the Earth bare! And the public accepts it, welcomes it, all to purchase more of your phones!" He let Mephisto leap down into Hellstrom's lap. "You've captured them in a devil's bargain."
"That is true," Hellstrom mused, running his fingers along Mephisto's silky fur. Mephisto closed his eyes and let out a rusty purr. "Those avaricious fools eating out of the palm of my hand..."
"And just think," Krimper continued, "of how satisfying it would be to have the world obey you willingly. With the funds you were going to use for this mind-control operation, you could easily buy yourself a number of politicians, fund an army of lobbyists, see the effects of your subtle manipulations poisoning the underlying structure of the world."
"Yes," Hellstrom said, his eyes narrowing. "Yes, yes." He shot to his feet, and Mephisto leaped to the ground with a yowl. "Why should Aleister Hellstrom be satisfied with mere mindless obedience?" He switched the holographic display back on, pulling up profiles, politicians rendered in holographic glass. "Yes, yes," he said, running his fingers around a senator's chin. "Soon, my influence will spread, and -" Mephisto let out an irritated yowl from around his ankles. "Krimper! Would you get that damn cat out of here! I'm trying to compose my plans!"
"Of course, Dr. Hellstrom," Krimper said, and scooped up Mephisto again, hurrying him out the door. Krimper risked a glance back at Dr. Hellstrom, completely absorbed in his simulations, lighting up figurines in red like an army of toy soldiers. From his arms, Mephisto glared up balefully at him and hissed.
"I know, kitty, I know," Krimper crooned, and stroked Mephisto under the chin. Mephisto grumbled deep in his throat. Krimper let the metal doors slide shut behind them and leaned in and whispered. "You've just got to humor him sometimes, that's all." | 2003 - 2003
----
“C'mon, not again,” Tom whispered as he saw his boss return to the office wearing the red and black metallic suit. He had been so happy after being hired by the best company in New Amsterdam - only to find out his boss was the telekinetic super villain “The Terror Crackle”
Her ridiculous name aside, she was horrid at covering her tracks. The luck needed to not be caught by this point, it must have been enormous. Desperate to keep his job, Tom hatched an evil plan of his own.
He would work hard, gain her trust, and become the top henchmen in her inner circle, working hard to foil all her schemes of destruction! With a *ring* the elevator at the other side of the office opened, which to Tom’s shock contained Miro, the hero. He ran over to his boss who was in her office and said, “Ma’am. Miro is here in the office.” At his words Crackle quickly evacuated her office through a secret door, whispering a thank you.
Now that his boss was not out in the open, Tom walked over to Miro. “Good morning sir. I’m Tom, how can I help you?”
Taking in the office, Miro was slow to answer. “Good morning Tom. There have been reports of the villain “The Terror Crackle” entering and exiting this building. Do you know anything about that?”
Faking a look of surprise and shock, Tom stayed silent for a moment. “There are some connections below this building to the old city. But the entrances to the undercity were supposed to have been sealed before construction of this building began.”
Relieved he had managed to think up a lie on the spot, Tom looked at Miro, hoping he would believe it.
“Thank you for the information. Have a nice day,” Miro said. Turning around, he glanced over the office once more, hoping to spot the red and black suit of the villain he was chasing, before pressing the button of the elevator to leave the building.
A few minutes after Miro had left Tom’s boss appeared at his desk, this time dressed in her suit. “Thank you for covering for me Tom. You’ve passed the test. Would you like to become one of my minions?”
Glad his plan had paid off Tom said, “Yes ma’am. I wish to help you.” Now inside, Tom would have to work double shifts but he would do it. He would rise up to her innermost circle to foil her plans so his job would not cease to exist!
----
For more stories, you should come visit r/maisieklaassen. Lots of weirdness is going on over there. ;D For more stories set in “The Ingenium World”, please check out my [wiki.](https://www.reddit.com/r/MaisieKlaassen/wiki/index) | 2016-11-03T05:03:17 | 2016-11-03T04:15:09 | 284 | 12 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself | (I don't usually write for these so be gentle)
The day finally came. It was my turn like my brother and sister before me. They each got their powers and now have been assigned jobs that took advantage of their powers.
My brother with his super strength works in a foundry lifting heavy materials. While my sister with her healing powers works in the local hospital. Both are super happy with their lives mostly.
Some of my older friends have their powers as well. Some are really cool and useful like my siblings. Some aren't as useful like my friend who got super speed typing.
Now it was my turn. The elders and trainers looked on in the room we were all in. Every power had a specific trainer. Their job was to make sure you learned how to use your powers correctly. Everyone had to walk up to what they were gonna eat. Then we all took a bite at the same time.
Usually a bit of hell broke loose for a moment as people got used to their new abilities. Some things let you even morph into animals! I wouldn't mind that one. You get to work at the zoo as an exhibit.
We then heard the 1 minute warning. We all got ready to take a bite out of our food. Except me, I hadn't picked anything yet. I quickly thought about the different foods as time was being counted down. If you didn't take a bite out of something you'd be a "normie" or "PL" a powerless individual. That's not something you want. Then I heard the count down and panicked. I kneeled down and when I heard "Bite!" I took a bite out of the table.
I heard a few gasps from the elders and trainers. I did something never done before. See what we didn't know was that every food had been prepared by the trainers according to a special recipe and that's how their powers were passed on during this short window in our life. However, no one could remember who on earth made the table. It had always been there since the beginning.
As other people's powers came forth and the elders were dealing with that, one came up to me and asked how I was feeling. "Nothing has happened yet. So I don't know." I said to them. "Well it can take some time to manifest. Go get some water and splash some on your face. See how you feel." they replied.
So I went to the bathroom and splashed some water on my face. As I was calming down I was reminded of a rain storm when I was younger. The water splashing on my face made me remember it. All of a sudden I heard rain outside and a voice in my head say "Command accepted. Altering weather to rainstorm."
I froze. Where did that voice come from? I then thought about sunny weather instead to see if I could get it to come back. I heard it again "Command accepted. Altering weather to calm and sunny. Average temperature.". What was this I thought to myself. Then I heard a reply that scared me "Welcome back Superuser. Root command access granted. Account Deity reactivated."
An elder I hadn't seen previously came and found me at the sink and said "We need to talk about your new power. There's only supposed to be one of us at time. You weren't supposed to take a bite out of my table ya goof." with a smile on his face. "Come now. You have a lot to learn so I can finally die in peace." | The table morphs into a person and hastily thanks the teenager. 'the curse, the curse is finally lifted. I'm free! Holy shit I can feel my legs again. Who are you? Did you?.....
The teenagers tongue begins to feel heavy and his throat tightens up. He hunches down on all fours and begins vomiting up sawdust. His limbs one by one become rigid and lock into place. His skin, awash with splinters, knitting into each other and piercing through, and over his flesh.
The new table man is born. The old man chuckles deliriously and passes out. A voice comes on over the intercom as the last senses the teen can experience become muffled and fade away. 'this is what you get for being a dumb cunt.' | 2020-03-19T10:22:13 | 2020-03-19T09:21:37 | 172 | 43 |
[WP] The Reapers come every 50 thousand years to wipe out organic life that has reached the stars however this time, this time they arrive at the heaviest resistance they have every encountered. In the grim darkness of the future they find 40k. | The sweet rot had claimed this world in the name of the father. The life that had once sought to cleans the planet of disease and filth now found themselves embraced by it. Love by it as they now loved it.
The sight drove warlord Vrom mad. His god had decreed that this planet be cleansed with blood and all Nurgle's taint be washed away by it. That the skulls of the enemies be placed upon His great throne. Already Vrom could hear the roars and bellows of his men demanding to be sent to battle. A smile played at the edge of his lips as he was reminded of the days when he served the corpse that sat upon the throne. How fearful his men once were at the possibility of death. Oh but now they craved it, demanded it. Serving Khorne ment only one thing, Victory, for even in death they give blood in his name.
"Open communications to the other vessels, tell them to prepare for landfall. Our lord atop the crimson throne has demanded this world be bled." Vrom was outright smiling now, the visage of a wolf for all to see. "And our troops are ready to oblige."
No sooner were the words said than the klaxxons began howling. "Report!" Vrom bellowed, his rage peaking. He needed to bleed something in the name of his god.
"Lord Vrom, it appears an unknown xenos species has made it's presence known within the sector. They have twelve ships warping in on the other side of the planet."
Vrom's eyes rolled into the back of his head as ears began to bleed. He could feel one of his God's vassals speak to him, demand of him.
Vrom came to but moments later in a puddle of his own blood. He eased himself from the rusted grates of his command tower. The men that served under him knew what was about to come, for warlord Vrom had received the favor of Khorne, and was prone to messages from the warp. "It would seem, that we will be getting visitors on the ship... and we will be taking the skulls of the xenos first." Vrom was already feeling better, his muscles surging with fresh blood. "Grab some of the psychers and release them to the warp, we need at least twenty four.... it seems one of our lord's great warroirs will join us for this battle." Already he could hear the beastial howls of deamons as they began to rip into the ships interior. The hounds were always the loudest, and always stalked the belly of the ship, waiting for someone to try and prove themselves.
"Get us within boarding distance of those new ships. We will take thier skulls and send the corpses to nurgle down bellow, soften them up a bit for us." Dropped into his command throne, wires snaking into his flesh and bone, connecting him to his ship, and to the whispers of the deamons that lurked within. Vrom's voice boomed over the vox communications of his ship and the thirty two that followed him. "Our god has demanded we take this world, but first we have some new xenos to remove. They carry the name reaper, but let us see how well they kill. Men, prepare for boarding action. Our God has demanded skulls for his throne. Blood for the blood god."
The response was a shockwave, something that could even be felt in the cold of the void. Skulls for the skull throne they roared. The deamons echoed, and the engines bellowed. The reapers, whatever these new xenos were, they would soon know the fury of Khorne and his followers. For all skulls are for his throne and all blood belongs to him.
| It's a little hard to describe the vast mental network of the Reapers -- a scaffolding of intertwined thoughts and programmed imparatives so complex, the term "hive mind" is laughably inadequate -- in words the human mind can process. Nonetheless, a brief translation will be attempted:
- "... well, jesus. At this point, it's just a mercy killing, innit?"
- "Do we even *want* any of these sods? All that dogmatic thinking's gonna get real old after a few eons."
- "I dunno. Those green-skinned mushroom things seem like fun, at least. Might get a destroyer or two out of them."
- "What about the Necrons?"
- "Those depressing gits? No way. Nuke 'em from orbit."
- "Look, guys, regardless, let's just stick to the plan. We'll give those Tyranids we chased in there another century or two to really make a mess while we finish up indoctrinating that 'Emperor of Man' thing. Then we can figure out what to do with those Chaos Gods."
- "Bleh. This cycle is gonna take *forever.*" | 2017-08-27T09:07:24 | 2017-08-27T09:00:01 | 56 | 11 |
[WP] You have drunkenly been discussing the Dark Lord with other tavern patrons, insulting him to no end. When someone storms up demanding you stop as he is one of the Dark Lords students. Strange thing is you don’t remember teaching this kid. | "... so I'm tellin' ya, the Dark Lord is a drunken coward, so no-one who might rebuke'im gets even close to his throne..."
I snorted softly into my mug of cheap mead, taking a swig before continuing, "Hell, that's probably the reason why he's still unwed, to boot. Hasn't been able to find a wife willing to go along with all his bullcrap..."
*"You take that back, you drunken rat!"*
I turn toward the voice, and see some strange kid, maybe 15 years old, storming toward me, "The hell? Whad'ya want, kid? You don't look like one of the Dark Lord's soldiers. Five years too young and 40 pounds of armor too unencumbered."
He sneered at me, "I'm a student of his, and I can assure you, he's *not* a drunken coward as you say! Why, if he were here..."
I raise an eyebrow, briefly surprised by this turn of events, "Din't know he had students... and more importantly, *you* being here to defend him while he's who knows where, probably getting drunk, isn't exactly helpin' your argument."
He starts fuming, "You're only alive because he permits it. A decision he may reconsider when he hears how you've been running your mouth."
I laugh, "Pretty sure the ol' bastard already knows when someone's talking about him. But if it makes you happy, go rat me out next time you see him. Now piss off, kid, I was enjoying getting drunk."
I laugh and take another swig of my mead as he stalks off to the door, full of the impotent rage of a teenager... and then I notice, he actually casts a spell at me from the doorway, a... transmutation? No, he didn't cast it at *me*, he cast it at my *mead*, turning it into a sweet poison, and a deadly one at that. I slam the mug on the table and get up, stalking towards him, "Okay, Dark Lord's student or not, no-one messes with my drink..."
The others in the tavern stare at my mug, then the kid whose finger is still glowing, then back at the mug, and back away slowly. The kid smirks at me, "So you noticed that, huh? Lucky you, but there's more where that came from."
I narrow my eyes at him, and he backs out the door slowly, and I follow. Closing the door behind me, I dodge the first spell he flings at me - a simple, but still harmful kinetic bolt. Of course, it wouldn't have hit anyone else in the tavern, either; that spell is so slow, it's only useful against immobile targets. Great for taking down doors when you get enough power, useless for anyone who sees it coming. I pry open his mind, so gently he doesn't even notice yet, just so I can see why he claims to be the Dark Lord's student when I've never seen him before, but leaving me the leverage to rip his mind out if i feel it's worth it... I see old tomes detailing my deeds, images of my soldiers, drawings of me in my greathelm and regalia, all posted on a wall, above a small shrine with my graven image mounted on it. I flinch and meet his gaze, "Oh, no... Oh, no, no, no..."
"Yeah, I might just be his apprentice, but my power is still more than enough to kill a peasant like you... or maim you for a long, unpleasant life."
I shake my head in frustration, "Oh, no, no, no, no... Not a bloody *fanboy*..." | *Kind of bad attempt*
The kid continued staring. Perhaps he was trying to feign anger, or madness, but whatever it was, it wasn’t intimidating at the slightest.
I took another swing of my drink and promptly ignored the kid, continuing to insult myself even when the other patrons didn’t answer, staring at me in horror. Cowards. Weren’t they just telling me how the Dark Lord had poor fashion taste?
Abruptly, a sharp noice erupted from my right, and I felt a sharp jolt of pain slice through my cheek. I turned lazily, and saw a shards of pottery lying across the bar table. Looking at the kid, I saw uncertainty in his eyes, then grim determination, and I lifted an eyebrow - annoying gremlin. What did he want, exactly?
The boy’s voice was cold when he spoke,
‘Stop it. You will not insult the Lord.’ A tremor of worry could be heard, quickly covered by a more confident tone. I snickered. Brat still needed to improve his lying.
‘Now now, boy, it ain’t nice to lie when it comes to the supreme Dick Lord. What do you want, eh?’
The boy’s ears turned red, but he held his composure fairly well. | 2022-01-14T15:18:51 | 2022-01-14T14:39:04 | 1,608 | 222 |
[WP] The team's healer is absolutely sick and tired of always being insulted or forgotten about so they join the bad guys; they are a much more terrifying villain than anyone thought possible. | Their foe uttered their final cry as the paladin twisted their blade deep into his chest.
"Garovox the Barbarian Warlord is vanquished!"
"Finally. I was down to my last 2 arrows" murmured the rogue.
"And my mana is gone from the fire blast I hit him with." Grumbled the mage.
"But it's worth it." The Paladin smiled, indicating to the treasure chest at the foot of the throne.
"The usual division?" Asked the rogue
"Agreed" added the mage.
"Actually can we look into changing that?" Spoke the cleric timidly.
"What?" Asked the paladin.
"I was wondering if we could split it more fairly. I get 10% while you each get 30%. It doesn't seem right."
The mage smiled an evil smile. "That seems fair."
"But.." the rogue interrupted
"Are you" the paladin started shouting.
The mage gave them a look that instantly silenced them.
"Now. Where were we? Ah yes, fair division of the spoils. Now our fearless leader got us the quest and dealt the final blow. I think 35% is a fair compensation."
The Paladin chuckled.
"Our rogue here disarmed the traps that would have surely killed us and landed many critical blows. 30% seems fair."
The rogue let out the breath she had been holding, relieved.
"And I.... I used my magic to freeze him in place allowing the others to strike and dealt the largest amount of damage. 35%"
"But that means..."
"You wanted it fairly dealt and so we have. We've been too generous with you. From now on the spoils will go to those that deal the damage." Cackled the mage.
"But that isn't fair! You can each afford gold plated armour and the best weapons. I can barely afford to sleep at any inn we stay at, let alone any supplies or weapons. The only thing I have is this dagger that the rogue couldn't even sell to a shop keeper."
"Well you should of thought about it BEFORE you mouthed off at the greatest adventurers in the land. Do you really want to fend for yourself out there?" Leered the paladin.
The clerics grip tightened around their staff. They were deep in a forrest filled with wild beasts, bandits and worse. "No" they hissed through gritted teeth.
"Good. Now that you've remembered your place we can spend the night here before setting off for our reward from the king in the morning."
The others nodded and started to share out some of the food from the barbarians dinner table. The cleric reached for some but the mage rapped her sharply on the knuckles.
"These are part of the spoils."
The others laughed cruelly. "Maybe if you're lucky you can find some berries outside." Sneered the rogue.
The cleric, silently fuming, grabbed a torch and headed outside.
"Make sure you tend to the beasts too!" Shouted the paladin to her retreating form.
She stomped angrily to then entrance to tend to the 3 horses and 1 donkey that they had rode here on. The animals all perked up at seeing her, gladly whinnying.
She muttered bitterly under her breath as she removed the saddles, gave them some vegetables to supplement the grass they gnawed on and tended to their wounds.
The paladins fine white stallion had chafe marks and weals from where the saddle had rubbed from under his immense weight. Idiot never remembered or cared to put a blanket on to his horse.
The rogues glossy black mare had painful sores where the rogue had dug in her heels to spur her to go faster.
And the poor mages creature. Some kind of magical horse. It had nasty whip marks from where it had done anything besides being silent and walking straight.
Only her own little donkey was free from injury.
Taking a jar of ointment out of her satchel she rubbed it into the wounds. They would be better in the morning.
The cleric continued onto the and swung her torch angrily over the forrest floor, searching for herbs, mushrooms, anything she could have for food.
"*Learn healing magic and you'll never be alone. Healers are important and respected.* Hogwash!" She muttered.
Her torch cast light on a small plant.
"Huh. I thought those only grew in the northern kingdom." She plucked a few leaves from it.
Standing she held her torch higher and saw that this wasn't the only unusual plant growing nearby. | Tylan could recall every insult, every comment, every joke pulled on him by those bastards. He volunteered his service to them and they threw him around like trash.
There was a time at the beginning where he wanted to repay his debt to them for saving his sister. Now it seemed more obvious that THEY were the ones who owed HIM.
He was a respected and celebrated healer from the last war, especially for his age, and these stupid excuse for warriors paid no respect to him. Tylan was never invited to celebrations and not even a single one of the warriors ever insisted that he be invited and too be given gifts at parties for his work defending the innocent. They even called him a teammate to people even though they did not treat him as such.
If they weren't in the midst of battle they've only ever spoke to him if they needed a cure for a hangover or a complexion clearer. They were more interested in the men and women they were wooing than their own teammate.
The thoughts he had of abandoning them had appeared not too long ago, but were quickly replaced by means of taking revenge. After all, THEY owed HIM.
He had joined correspondance with the opposition a month before. They had stated that they were anticipating Tylan's integration to their forces. So he had began slipping small strips of metal into the healing wounds of his so called teammates. Those peices of metal could activate at his command from anywhere and instantly kill every one of the warriors. He began to slip poisons into their drinks that would subtly over time weaken their bodies.
Tylan wanted every one of them dead. But not soon, no, he wanted them to suffer. Every wound he had ever cleaned would reopen at his command if he had wished. And they would if he could just stay for a bit longer. Just to see the panic in their eyes as they realize that he, the healer had been their undoing.
Finally there would be respect. | 2020-01-05T15:09:30 | 2020-01-05T13:02:29 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] You are a Immortal and your Wife is a Reincarnation of all Wifes that you had. Some may say it's a Tragedy that you have to see her die over and over, but at this point it's a Game between you and her to see who finds the other first. | The woman at the dock is hunched over, her figure faint under all the layers she’s wearing, seemingly unnoticeable beneath the dark sky.
In the distance, a cat mewls and a car skids against asphalt. The watch against her hand strikes midnight, but the woman merely hums, looking up from the vast waters below to gaze up into the sky. Her eyes glisten as they follow the black abyss. She hums again, absentmindedly tapping her fingers against her thigh. Behind her, a street light begins to flicker. The woman snorts into her hand, but doesn’t turn around.
“Took you long enough,” she says instead. But somehow the words betray her biting tone, fondness etched behind it.
All around her, the air buzzes inconsistently. The universe feels quiet burrowed beneath all the night’s silence, as if it were sleeping, unbothered by the rest of the world’s musings. It should be unnerving, but somehow it’s only peaceful.
“Well,” the woman insists. “What’s your reason this time? And don’t tell me you got lost, I stopped believing that after the second time.”
This time the air snorts, which causes the woman to slowly smile. To anyone else, it would be more of a grimace, but he can see the soft upturn of her lips, the steadily etched laughter lines under her eyes, the way her posture relaxes into something more comfortable.
“I was busy saving a cat,” the air — now the man — tells her.
She barely conceals her snort. “A cat? Really? Even *I’m* not that naive.”
“Yes,” he says. “It was stuck in a tree.”
“A tree?”
“It was very high.”
“Of course it was,” she huffs, before giving him a once-over and sighing when it appears she’s not seeing what she wants. “Well, I suppose all that matters is you’re here now.”
The man nervously chuckles in reply.
“Come on,” the woman beckons toward the water, and the man sighs, finally moving to reach the edge of the dock.
“This is nice,” he tells the woman once he’s at her side.
“It’s nicer in the morning, when the sun hits the water and all you can see is the sky’s reflection.” The man wants to tell her he disagrees; that the way the sky hits the water now is perfect, as the stars swim beneath him, like he could place his hands inside and scoop up a thousand man-made wishes. A wishing well filled with untold dreams. Untold lives. It was strangely beautiful, in a haunting and mysterious way.
“Anyways,” the woman interrupts the man’s musings. “I thought we could maybe live here, give the seaside a try for a change.”
The man hums, looking out into the vast darkness that seemed to run on for miles and miles. He imagines the world in the morning, under the newly risen sun, and thinks the woman might be onto something.
“Okay,” he tells her. “Let’s give this a try.”
“Yeah?” She asks, looking at him with surprised eyes, and he can understand why she would. He’s always been afraid of the unknown, and the ocean is no exception. Perhaps it’s ironic that they’ve spent so many lifetimes occupying different bodies, unsure of when the next life will come, but somehow always finding each other in each one. The man supposes they’ve always been living unknowingly, mere shadows beneath an equally darkened sky.
“Yeah,” he tells her this instead, and for a moment they stand like that, just the two of them looking at each other from behind half-mast eyelids, where they’re simply two bodies standing along a dock, two faceless figures in the night. Where the past simply lies in the past, and their future, like all futures before, remains unknown.
Then he sees the tilt of her head, and knows she understands.
Maybe she wants to say something more, reassure him or hold him or punch him in that joking way she sometimes does, but she simply turns back to look out into the black waters instead, and he watches her for a moment. It’s times like this when he’s reminded of why he fell in love with her in the first place. The weight against his chest still weighs heavily, but somehow with her by his side, it eases just as steadily.
Slowly, almost cautiously, he reaches out to take her hand into his. She blinks, but doesn’t react much more than that. After a few moments, she squeezes his hand.
And, as he turns to watch the darkness give way to light with the only woman he’s ever loved, he slowly squeezes back.
—
/r/itrytowrite | Tw- suggested sexual scenes.
I looked up from the meeting desk to see a long man walk in. He wore a suit and carried a briefcase. I set down my pen and stood as he entered, gesturing for him to take a seat.
My secretary, Abigail, followed in after him.
“May I grab you a beverage?” Her light voice asked them.
“A tea.” The man with long blonde hair said.
She nodded and left the room.
“Welcome Dawson, I appreciate you coming all this way.” I pulled over the television stand and turned it on. “Did you have any questions for me before we dive into the updates?”
The blonde hair man looked me up and down. “I’d like to know more about you. You’re so serious. Is there no time to relax into this?”
“Um.” I said, I brushed my hand through my hair. “I apologize for my manners Dawson.” I sat back down. “Would you like for me to go over my professional history again?”
Abigail came in carrying tea and Dawson took it from her, thanking her. She left the room and he took a small sip.
“Why don’t you tell me a bit about your personal life.”
My mouth dropped open a moment before I snapped it shut. “That’s hardly important for this meeting.” I said, a bit of tone creeping into my voice.
“I think it’s very important.” He said. He took another sip.
I gave a tiny sigh, and turned to the television screen. “Why don’t we go over the updates and I can talk with you more casually after.”
I pointed to the screen. “Here you can see a 20% increase in user feedback when we asked them open ended questions versus yes or no.” I clicked my mouse for the next slide.
I heard Dawson stand up and walk over to me. My eyebrows went up and I froze. He put his hands on either side of my chair and twisted me towards him. He leaned in close and whispered into my ear. “You don’t recognize your wife, you idiot.”
I flinched and rolled my chair back from him. He stood up.
“Ali?” I asked.
He gave a radiant smile.
“You’re a fucking man.”
He nodded. “I win.” He said. “This time, you’re going to be my bitch.” He started unbuckling his belt. | 2022-02-27T14:37:05 | 2022-02-27T11:46:18 | 86 | 17 |
[WP] You're a supervillain who has done a number of questionably ethical things to keep your little sister safe. This is complicated by the fact that she is leading the rebel coalition against you. | I sat down in my chair, the feeling of the leather against my back was a relaxing one, the wind blowing the room brought comfort. I didn't deserve such comfort, not really. I tuned out all the people screaming my name, their chanting for my death, that isn't what I really cared about. Not now anyways.
My phone rang, I picked it up and stared at who was calling, it was my little sister, my darling Angel of a sister. I thought on my pass, my present, and the short future I had left. It was true, what the news said about me, a theif, a liar, a bully and a killer. I killed, and I did so with such great pleasure, in truth the only person that I really didn't want to kill was my sister.
She had a rough time, abusive parents did that, I had them killed first, for her of course, as time passed, I watched her grow and become who she was truly meant to be. Then she was smart, she was popular among her peers and more then that she was happy. I would do anything to see that she was happy.
But, things had to go south. One boy was all it took to show her how I designed the world around her and her life, to see the dark empire I lead, the men I killed, the children I killed, it was but a single look into that world that lead her to my ultimate demise.
I answered, as foolish as it was I answered.
"Hey there, brother" she began in a snarky tone, I heard the hatred in her voice, a justified hatred and a hatred that I understood. Still I couldn't stop a tear from falling down my face, it got caught on my moustache, just like all things eventually ended, stuck.
"Do you remember that time at the park?" I asked, she went silently and a sigh was followed by a short lived smile on my face "I do, it was nice, I pushed you on the swing while you talked about what you were going to do when we grew up, I wonder if our tiny minds could handle this reality"
"Yeah, I was a fool to trust you" She responded snarky as ever, yet another tear went down my face, I stood up and began to walk towards the door, the phone against my ear "To have your men fire on your little sister was such a great joy for you, wasn't it?"
"No, I lost momentary control of my guy, something about burning down his base while his wife and child was inside, I think" I responded, truthfully, she paused "You didn't want to hear this, you don't want to hear but you are going to hear this, I love you, I have always loved and will always love you, that is why I took that spanner in the face, that is why I killed so many of my leaders and my own men, because they wanted to kill you"
My foot steps continued down the hall, echoing down behind me "I know you won't forgive me because who could really forgive me, I can't" I approached a balcony, overlooking the crowd, I spanned my eyes over them to see her in a small bush with a team of revolutionaries behind her "See me? I see you"
I stepped up on the marvel railing and uttered my last words "I love you" With that, I took that fatal step. I could've sworn I heard the word 'no' screaming from the phone. When I turned my head to look at her, she was running over, but we both know I wouldn't have survived. If the fall didn't kill me, then the crowd will.
It fall faded to black, and all I can remember is my crying sister over me.
The wind through my hair is relaxing, everything is calm, I a finally happy |
I watched the blood trickle through my sister’s shirt. Then her hoodie started seeping red. No… this couldn’t be happening. After all I had done to keep her safe, all that I sacrificed to keep her safe. I met eyes with my little sister, mine filled with tears. Her lips moved slightly. I went in closer to hear.
“I’m sorry…. I’m so sorry..” She muttered
“No, no, don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about.” A tear dripped from my eye. I hugged my sister tighter.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered. Her hand went into the pocket of her hoodie. “I’m so sorry.” She then pulled out a knife, and plunged it into my chest, twisting it. I start bleeding. Unfortunately, my shock couldn’t heal me. I feel my life fading, zoning in and out of consciousness. I hooked my arm around her neck and pull her ear to my mouth.
“I...” I pull the knife out of my chest and fall to the ground. “love…you…”
​
Thanks for reading :)
If you have any feedback, please comment it, or DM me :) | 2019-07-23T01:14:09 | 2019-07-22T23:23:47 | 112 | 20 |
[WP] After a person dies, they are brought to the moment they were born to become their own guardian angels and hopefully guide themselves towards a better life. | After a very long life I finally died at the age of 93. I found myself young and strong again, facing the gates of heaven.
"Lemme level with you for a second, mate; you don't have a chance of getting into heaven." the angel said to me. He muttered on: "However, on the order of God Almighty, who only comes to visit once every 10 000 years, we're conducting an experiment and you've been randomly chosen and given a chance to participate. Personally I don't think you deserve it, but it's not my call to make sadly." The angel was visibly gagging at this point.
"Regardless, if you decide to accept the rules are these: You will be sent back in time to your birth and allowed to follow and guide yourself to a better life. If you manage to improve it you'll merge with the other you and get into heaven. If not, you'll just be sent to hell like before."
"That's not much of a choice, really." I said.
"Sigh, yes, that's what they all say. Down you go again!"
The world swirled around me and I found myself floating in a white room filled with a newborn baby's cry.
Of course the bastard wouldn't listen at all. I mean I can't blame him; having an invisible floating asshole who keeps telling you what to do and is physically (spiritually?) unable to leave your side you kinda turn into a cynical asshole pretty quickly. Not only was I bored out of my mind, it was clear that I had messed up from the start. The guy was clearly unstable because he was unable to convince people that he could see and hear me, and it's kinda hard to beat the authority of a psychologist saying "don't listen to the voices".
The bastard finally died. By the time my previous self was 20 I was convinced that I had failed already, and with several hundred lives ruined by the time he died it was clear that I should've stocked up on sunscreen cause I was gonna need a LOT of it. I once again stood in front of the same angel that sent me back.
"Wow, that was... Just wow. I dunno what to say. That was quite a ride. I really enjoyed the weekly experiment reports on your "progress". It's just too bad that the experiment will continue for another 9920 years despite the bad results. Anyway, you already know the verdi--- Wait, what the fu--" The angel's voice was suddenly muffled and the view swirled into a blue color. I once again found myself in a white hospital room, filled with the cries of a certain baby. There was just one problem: Now there were three of me. Baby me didn't really care about the two floating guys above him, but the other floating me was just as surprised as I was.
You'd think that after the 411th iteration we'd be able to accomplish something, but again, having an army of guardian angels that can't move more than 10 meters away from you can actually be kind of frustrating. First of all, it makes it hard to see anything at all simply due to the sheer amount of people around you blocking the view. Secondly, when you place a large number of people with the same humor in the same room they will inevitably start trolling everyone around them. Thirdly, it's really really hard to stay sane when 400 floating people, all unable to sleep, are constantly singing Never Gonna Give You Up before the meme (and the song) had even been invented. Of course, some of the "younger" versions of me did their best to help, but the older cynical iterations just couldn't get enough of ruining everyone's days. Turns out that being "alive" but confined for a couple of thousand years in total had strange effect on the mind. In the middle of a particularly intense nighttime poking session (where the closest 100 people all gather up as close as possible to the "target" as we call him, and poke him as he's trying to sleep), I was suddenly engulfed in a bright light. Looks like God was finally back in the house... | Oh fuck it's moms vag! Fucking gross! This is the worst part.
Hey little baby bro were your guardian angels. That's Steve 1. He was the first born so no guardian angel for him. He got hit by a truck climbing out of a man hole cover after smoking weed in the sewers.
That's Stevie. He was the second born. As you can guess Steve 1 isn't the best guardian angel with all the pot smoking and shit. Stevie only lived until 15. With the guidance of Steve 1 he had a pretty sweet little drug business but got shot.
Then there's me! I'm 12 but feel like the most level headed of the bunch. I'm going to teach you fucking rad dirt bike tricks and shit but I'll always tell you to wear a helmet!
We have lived through the first 15ish years of your life so we're good at knowing how to get good shit from mom. Suicide attempt at 9 with stolen pills seems to pretty much be the key but we're going to try a little earlier so we can get an iPhone and tinder.
You're just a fucking baby tho so we're going to just sing some of our favorite songs for a few years until you can talk.
*I was gonna clean my room until I got high
I was gonna get up and find the broom but then I got high
My room is still messed up and I know why
'Cause I got high* | 2016-09-18T06:50:06 | 2016-09-18T04:25:13 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] Jerry was erased from existence by Thanos’ snap. The grieving Tom decided to revenge for his fallen friend. | Before it had always been a game. Sure, there were threats of death and bodily harm, but no one every really thought anyone would get hurt, much less die. It was just a way to kill time on a lazy Saturday morning. So no matter how well planned, how cunning, or how simple or complex, there had always been a hole; some gap that would allow the antagonist to make an unlikely escape.
This time, Tom thought, there were no holes, no mistakes, and no unlikely escapes.
\-
Thanos looked down in confusion. He had just finished putting his armor up on some sticks in what he thought was a very artistic and deeply meaningful manner, and was walking back to his hut, when upon the ground in front of him, he saw what appeared to be the Tesseract. That should be quite impossible, as he had destroyed the Tesseract to get the Infinity Space Stone within.
Thanos looked down at the gauntlet he was still wearing and confirmed that, yes, the Space Stone was still embedded. He looked back at the ground and confirmed that, yes, the Tesseract was also still there. This made little sense, and was actually rather vexing to the last Titan. His victory was suppose to be complete, but if new Infinity Stones were appearing, or given the existence of the Time Stone, the originals could be reappearing, everything he had done could be for naught.
He had to investigate.
Thanos approached the cube cautiously. Another thing that made no sense was that such a powerful artifact would simply be laying on the ground. Perhaps the stone within had somehow been drawn to it's twin within the gauntlet?
Sensing and seeing no one, Thanos bent down and picked the cube up. He quickly became even more confused, and a bit angry.
Someone was playing with him.
What he had taken to be the Tesseract was in fact a poorly constructed cardboard mock-up lit by a few LEDs. In hindsight, he wasn't sure how he had been fooled for even a moment by the shoddy replica.
But still, to place such an item here, in the sanctum he had retreated to, was clearly a challenge to him. He would find whoever dared come before him and crush them beneath his boot. He would - his line of thought was suddenly interrupted as he noticed a thin string attached to the fake Tesseract. Curiously, he gave a tug.
From seemingly nowhere (not to be confused with Knowhere), cheerful, yet strangely ominous music started playing. His eyes following the now exposed string, Thanos watched in confused fascination as it activated an old style Earth alarm clock, which in turn started pulling a saw to cut through a log. Each action led to another in a convoluted methodology that Thanos could old marvel at. At one point a pool table and car windshield wiper were involved. Thanos had no idea how he had missed the massive number of items during his initial survey, nor where the power outlets some of the items were plugged into had come from, especially since he had specifically placed his Refuge on a planet that had never heard of electricity.
*Hello, this is your narrator. I'm sorry to interrupt at such a pivotal point, but to understand the following, one must first know a bit about the Infinity Gauntlet. The Gauntlet is, without a doubt, one of the single most powerful items in existence, and in the right hands is capable of nearly anything. However, the key limitation to the Gauntlet is that the user must will it's power to work. Just because you are wearing the gantlet, reality does not bend around you unless you will it, i.e. no chimmichungas will appear unless you tell the Guantlet you want some chimmichungas. The same applies for convenient things like invincibility. Hopefully this new knowledge and understanding puts the next events into perspective. We now return you to our story, already in progress.*
So engrossed was he with the moving mechanical menagerie, Thanos almost missed that the highlight of the event was the cutting of a rope by a knife tied to a Coo-coo clock. Said rope was holding an absolutely enormous safe precariously over the Titan's head. Thanos wondered once more how he had missed all of this in his initial survey of the area. Magic perhaps? He considered this as he calmly stepped several feet to one side and watched the safe crash harmlessly onto the ground where he had just been standing.
Thanos roared to the wind, "A valiant attempt my unknown foe, but not good enough! Now I will - hey, where did this big X I'm standing on come from?"
Thanos had his question answered with perfect timing as the several tons of TNT buried under the X went off. Whether the Titan had time to realize the answer is unknown.
Tom stepped out from behind a nearby tree and surveyed his work. All that was left of the once feared Thanos was a rather surprised looked (and surprisingly intact all things considered) skeleton. He nodded to himself in satisfaction. He'd known the universe would try to thwart him by the same logic and rules that had long protected both himself and Jerry. That had been the whole point of the Rube Goldberg trap. Not to distract Thanos, but to distract the universe long enough for the explosives to successfully go off. And he'd only had to use two of his backup methods to get the explosives to actually explode. He was just glad that he hadn't been forced to fall back on any of his more extreme back up options.
Now that it was over and done with, Tom realized he needed to relax. He wondered what Spike was up to?
Author's note - For reference, and the source of this crack, the [Better Mousetrap (youtube clip)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GvnEBX9aedY). |
There is a reason why we have lived this long because of the incident of one day in May 1943 we were both chasing each other this time we made a complete mess of things almost destroyed the house i was using fire poker to murder Jerry for drinking my milk again and by accident through no fault of my own the fire poker touched the curtains and so the entire place almost burnt down but by luck master's seltzer came in handy.
I contained the fire and almost got rid of it if it weren't for the maid Beatrice she was furious started cursing at me and Jerry in french who knew she was a Haitian voodoo priestess she cursed us to immortality of chasing each other by sacrificing Spike and his son Tyke to the Loa Papa Legba.
Its been almost more than sixty five years, Beatrice is long since been dead or that is my assumption she disappeared after the sacrifice it was not a major issue we both really hated Spike and his always runt kid Tyke and we enjoyed the idea of being immortals and so we traveled all across Americas from north to south then north again and we settled this time in New York with a nice person his name is Wong who lives in the giant house of all kinds of fun oddities.
After all this time me and Jerry grew up to be close friends if not like family we shared alot of pain and suffering together starvation, death and the rebirth part and so in the eve each others birthday May 3rd, we both chase each other for old time sake and this is due to our long and unending life and the thrill of the hunt.
We have found more messed up ways to kill each other, you see Wong has alot of oddities in his manor like weapons and books about spells and stuff and so we engrossed our selves in trying to out perform each other every year this was our ten year anniversary and so we were well versed in most of these spells and how to manipulate of the physical world itself and so every year we try to ensure to kill each other this was our tenth year of the Tom & Jerry Olympics.
The game was afoot i drew upon the power fireling and released the flames from my mouth to Jerry's direction and it caught him by surprise he burnt to ashes. I was waiting for him to come back the from the ashes but Jerry never did. I thought it was a prank so i waited and waited for three days even Wong did not come home to feed us i was scared then i prayed to Papa Legba to know where is Jerry.
Papa told me that Jerry has been erased from existence itself by a maniacal force that wiped the existence of half the sentient beings in the universe and so i searched through out the loa underworld to no avail. Then Bondye the Voodoo God saw me and took pity on my state and told me "little blue cat your half is missing by the hand of one being, Thanos find him and put and end to him and his accursed gauntlet and once you do your other half the little brown mouse will come back and as a boon for your quest I shall grant you the power of a mighty star in sky be wary the flames of this star will consume your soul if you use it too be wary little blue cat.
I thanked Bondye for his kindness and for the name of the being that took Jerry from me and now i need find to this Maniac Thanos and get my friend Jerry back. | 2019-04-01T07:28:08 | 2019-04-01T07:00:25 | 37 | 11 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | "Explain it to me again. I'm not sure I comprehended the first time."
The Warhost-Master's appendages twitched in frustration.
"As you are aware, Humanity was, until now, classified as a D-class species - A species with significant technological and societal development, but lacking any spaceflight capabilities. Several picorotations ago, the humans successfully landed and returned two of their kind on their planet's primary satellite. This raised an automatic monitoring alert from our in-system sentry drone.
What is incredible here is that the humans lack any of the technologies we have, until now, assumed are a prerequisite to spaceflight. They achieved inter-body flight using no method of propulsion other than chemical rockets."
"Explain these chemical rockets to me again."
"It's a relatively obscure method of propulsion. Basically, it involves triggering extremely rapid, extremely exothermal chemical reactions, and using the resulting explosion to direct ejection mass to generate thrust.
As you can imagine, failures are both extremely common and impressively catastrophic. It's practical application is very limited. As far as we are aware, no species has, until now, used it to successfully achieve spaceflight."
"So they landed on their satellite by blowing themselves up? Is that what you're telling me?"
"Well, uh, I suppose that's one way of putting it, sir."
The Warhost-Master used one of his secondary appendages to manipulate a computer terminal. A tall, cylindrical object appeared in the middle of the room. It was surrounded by semi-transparent renders of other spacecraft, to give a sense of scale.
"This is the craft they used. As you can tell, it's absolutely massive. As I explained earlier, their propulsion method relies on ejecting reaction mass. This requires the craft to carry a tremendous amount of fuel to escape their planet's gravity well."
The Representative waved one of it's primary appendages in incredulity, and slapped the wall with a number of it's secondary appendages for emphasis.
"You're telling me they landed this giant fucking thing on their moon? And that was their first attempt at crewed interbody flight?"
"Um, no sir. They only landed this bit here."
A tiny portion of the vessel's top was highlighted.
"What the hell do you mean? What happened to the rest?"
The Warhost-Master rubbed it's primary appendages together nervously.
"They, um, fell off."
"Fell off?"
"Yes sir. During the course of normal operation, most of the ship falls off. The ship ejects bits of itself, in order to reduce it's mass, during the course of operation. Their ship is basically a series of barrels full of volatile hydrocarbon compounds. They light one end, and the bottom barrel starts burning. When that is empty, they toss it away, to reduce their mass. They then light the end of the next barrel. And so on. In the end, about half a percent of the ship's mass actually arrives at the destination. The rest falls off. The entire ship is one-use only. It's little more than a giant barrel of volatile hydrocarbons pointed at the sky, on top of which three humans gleefully strap themselves and set on fire."
"And this works? They went to their moon in a ship that self-destructs by design?"
"More or less, sir. Based on analysis of their spacecraft, our AI estimates a loss-of-life failure rate of about 10%. Indeed, sir, they've been experimenting with crewed spaceflight for only a few picorotations, and have already suffered several fatal failures. Such an exorbitant risk would never be tolerated by any civilized species."
The Representative rubbed it's sensory cluster with an appendage in a sign of disbelief.
"These people are absolutely mad." | One by one the stars went out. Earth's scientists looked on in horror and confusion as they vanished. They hadn't burnt out, nor had they gone supernova, they just were no longer there.
It was quick, especially by astronomical speeds. After just a year, the entire southern hemisphere was without starlight and just one year later, every telescope was trained on the north star, the last star, as it too was snuffed out.
Within moments though, every single one of them returned. Every twinkling little light, right back where it belonged.
----
"Steady"
"Steady...."
"Alright we're done."
As the final plate sank into place, the two pilots breathed a heavy sigh of relief. A pair of engineers were wiring up the final systems, and then the largest wall the galaxy had ever seen would be complete.
Just then a small *plink* was heard from the other side of the wall. No one dared suggest opening it back up to find the source of the noise though.
---
"Voyager 1 has stopped transmitting" | 2017-03-06T01:17:34 | 2017-03-06T00:52:02 | 161 | 62 |
[WP] A generation ago humanity faced an extinction level catastrophe. In response, the world's governments lifted all legal, moral, and ethical bans on scientific research in a desperate attempt to overcome the danger. You now live in a world dealing with the consequences of this.
Wow! Great responses everyone. I was eagerly looking forward to my breaks at work all day so that I could read up on the new ones. | In 2020 the world was rocked by the outbreak of the Jericho epidemic. In a 2 year span more than 4 billion people died as a result of the infection. Those affected by the disease often had no idea until it was too late. The disease went through several mutations while the infected progressed through a series of different symptoms. First you got the sniffles and the occasional nose bleed. This was the air born strand of the virus, catching it this way meant you had somewhere between 6 and 9 months to live. Of course everyone assumed they had a common cold and so the virus spread like wildfire. About six weeks after the infected contracted the disease it mutated and symptoms became more pronounced and painful; dizziness and confusion began and people would spike high fevers. If you were unlucky enough to make direct contact with the infected at this point you could expect to live for roughly another 3 to 4 months. Well the disease progressed and evolved a few more times so that by the time the first wave of humanity began to die from it, it was simply to late to contain it. Governments began to panic as ever increasing populations began to succumb to the disease. In a desperate scramble to find a cure all bans on ethical treatment were discarded. It became the single most expensive venture in human history and there was nobody who wasn't affected. Public media fueled the fires by increasing the panic among the populace. Charlatans provided cures ranging from charms and ointments that would protect and prevent the wearer from catching the virus; all the way up to leeching the blood and ingesting cocktails of chemicals and poisons that provided absolutely no effect. It wasn't long before quarantine measures were imposed and curfews were set in nearly every populated area of every nation in the world.
A Swiss biological engineering team began to experiment with super viruses and the effect they might have in combating this plague. There was no significant proof that they were successful, but they did manage to kill several patients and some recently declassified documents suggest that perhaps they even made the infection stronger with some of their attempts.
The Indian Medical team developed a homeopathic treatment that was adopted by many eastern countries. This proved to be a very poor choice and the body count began to escalate. It seems that nothing in nature was prepared to cope with this outbreak.
It wasn't until a team of Western doctors amalgamated that the first signs of hope began to appear. They theorized that if gene splicing was used to artificially develop antibodies in a host and given a boost with both radiation treatments and nano technology there may be a fighting chance. It took some tinkering to get the dosages right, and to figure out the proper order to provide these treatments, but eventually they cracked that nut and proclaimed they had found a cure. By first exposing the patient to radiation and eliminating the existing immune system, they would then introduce a large dose of genetically altered spinal fluid and nanobots to rebuild the system. The treatment was made globally available on August 23 2023 and the population was eager for the treatment. Nearly all of humanity received the treatment over the next year. It wasn't until two years after that that we began to see the side effects emerge. Sterility was the first and possibly most obvious effect, we nuked the reproductive organs when we fried our immune systems. Then there were the psychological effects caused by the mutated spinal fluid. Some people became very intelligent and began to attain mild telepathic abilities, others suffered from enlarged glands and hormone producing portions of the brain. This lead to an increase in violence and discrimination as people began to take on different mutations.
It is now 2046, and the world still struggles to rebuild. It wasn't easy since most of the population was rendered sterile from the treatments. All children are now born in special fertility centers where the sperm banks of the past have provided the building blocks for our continued existence. The children produced in these labs are guarded at all times to ensure they reach sexual maturity so that a broader genetic pool can be used to increase the population.
Although the virus has been eliminated for a generation, most countries still haven't reinstated the bans on unethical research and treatment. Some of the more intelligent of the modern mutated man have taken to doing experiments on the next generation of children in an attempt to continue the line of mutant man. They know that in the next 30 to 40 years mutants will be all but extinct and they want to preserve what they feel is the next evolution of life on earth. Jericho was the first plague, what we have done to ourselves since then is much worse. Humanity no longer exists, we are beasts and slowly a new social system is being formed. I remember what it was to be a man, but all I see when I look in the mirror is a monster; it might have been better if I had just allowed myself to die. This is not the world I thought I would leave behind when I died. | She was ten, still quietly working away at a math problem. That's how her parents remember Emily the day she won the lottery.
They - her parents, the only parents in the classroom - were stood beside the teacher in front of the class and she - Emily, their only child -
was at her desk.
Around Emily, the rest of the class restlessly fidgeted. They looked miserable surrounded by the men in government suits. As did Emily's parents. The men in suits scared them, scared them even though they talked about duty and honour and pride and made promises. It was just that they looked so much like robots with their calm faces.
They looked so efficient and unchangeable. They were sure they did the right thing.
And that chilled Emily's them.
The deed they knew was already done. They could say nothing. They could do nothing. The men would not be swayed.
As they numbly watched, one government man detached from the group and walked up to their Emily. He tapped her on her shoulder. His black suit obscured their view. They think they saw her nod.
But then nothing...
They both fainted then they believed or blocked it out. Something.
Their next coherent memory was back home a little later. They were packing their things in a hurry. Emily - safe and beautiful, their little lottery winner - cried in the corner, holding her little suitcase tight. There was a government re-location program and they were taking advantage of it.
Really, it was quite understandable. Who would face neighbours whose children were now brave little helpers for humanity? Would you? Even if their children were heroes?
They couldn't.
They lefts Saltsburg that afternoon.
******
It was many years later when they returned again to Saltsburg to return their daughter to the place her heart had returned too many times.
They laid her to rest in the cemetary unnoticed beside the large marble monument to the troubled times and the heroes who had helped at that time of need. The monuments were ubiquitous; that's how they got through things now. Called them heroes. Built them monuments. It helped people.
But not Emily.
Emily, their little hero, had only ever thought of them as children. | 2014-11-14T08:11:41 | 2014-11-14T06:41:32 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] A religion is proven true but not the one you expect how do people react? | "Gwen, calm down. He's just a kid. Sure, he's a bit lucky, but there's nothing really strange about him beyond that. Nice kid, really. Are you sure you're feeling well? Maybe the stress..." Gwen scowled and stormed out of the teacher's lounge, leaving Mrs. Hutchens alone with her coffee.
Gwen headed for the playground, not quite stomping, but every step came down on the linoleum floor firmly, angrily. Every time she had evidence, even video, the person who saw it said "Oh, there's nothing strange about that."
And the worst part was, Gwen was increasingly sure that he knew her suspicions. That had to be it.
She passed him in the hall--what was he doing in the hall during recess?--and he smiled at her, some smug little boy grin, like the world's most spoiled brat. Seven, no eight years old now.
He always got the tail on the donkey in one try. He always hit the pinata at birthday parties. Whatever sport he played, the ball went into the hoop, through the goal, wherever it needed to go, no matter where he was on the court or field. He never seemed to have scrapes or bruises like other boys his age, though he roughed around with them all the time.
"Hello Miss Fisher," he said, politely, with wide innocent eyes that were filled to the brim with trouble, and continued on his way. Perhaps to the bathrooms.
Gwen paused and watched him. Had he pulled some mind trick on her? She'd seen him do it with other kids. Convince the other team's captain to pick all the worst players instead of the best. And she was sure he did something to trip Jordan, the best runner in the third grade, so he could win the long race on Field Day.
No, if he could pull mind tricks on her, he'd have done it by now.
She had to report this. She started back to her classroom, decision made. He had everyone else wrapped around his finger, she was the only one who saw the signs.
She had pulled up the number on her computer, in the process of dialing, when he stepped into the room, smiling that peculiar, mad smile. "Miss Fisher, I'm afraid I can't let you call them."
Violet lightning consumed the world, and the lights flickered. The call connected, then static. Then nothing.
The computer was a loss, and Miss Fisher was properly mourned and buried, a "freak accident," according to the papers. Some sort of power surge.
A month later, an administrative intern spotted something unusual in the phone bill, and having already noticed something weird about the staff at this school, she skipped proper reporting procedures and escalated the matter to the county Superintendent, her uncle.
When he agree to meet with her at the nearest Denny's after work, she had the entry circled, and just slid it over to him across the table.
"Miss Gwen Fisher called the Bureau of Jedi and Sith Affairs just before her accident."
The stately older man visibly paled, keeping his hands well away from the sheet of paper, as though not touching it could keep it from being real. But it was real.
"I have a bad feeling about this." | '**HAHAHAHA!!**' I laughed at first. I spent a good five minutes gasping for air while re-reading the article on BBC at work during lunchtime. Then CNN followed suit. Don't get me wrong - still hilarious, but nothing like the spasms of laughter at lunch. Not the first time that The Onion 'news' make the rounds.
'This is ridiculous.' By evening reddit was nothing more than various 'DAE be a God' and 'look who I am' posts. They obviously wanted publicity. Who knew the gods would be such attention/karma whores. Mildly annoying.
'*Godfriggindammit*!' It got decidedly not funny in the morning, on the way to work, when in the 'Factual' section of a bookshop I saw a large stand of books by Terry Pratchett. | 2014-03-19T10:47:08 | 2014-03-19T10:32:32 | 49 | 13 |
[WP] "Be careful. Most of these people are much better at lying than they are at magic." | “Yeah, yeah.” I roll my eyes, striding through the assembly hall. “I’ll recognize good magic when I see it.”
Alatar was a good friend and more skilled with magic than anyone else I knew, but he always gave such dramatic and suspicious warnings. If everything he said had come true, we would never have gotten so far in our careers.
Light chatter drifts past my ears. Men and women are seated at random across the vast, circular chamber, exchanging stories and namecards. Some of them are wearing suits and ties, while others have opted for more colorful and casual attire. As I maneuver around a waiter carrying a stack of cups and plates rivaling the tower of Pisa, a man stands up from a nearby table and yanks a rabbit out of a tophat to the applause of his pitiful audience.
I shake my head. I was looking for actual magic, not mere parlor tricks.
“I’m serious,” Alatar continues, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Few of these people have ever told a truth in their lives. They are masters not of magic but of deceit, and it will do you good to question your eyes before anything else.”
“Like I said, I’m not worried about being lied to. I may not know magic as well as you do, but I am no novice myself.”
I stop and straighten my tie. We had reached the center of the room underneath the gleaming chandelier. “Here we are. Ready?”
Alatar nods. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
I climb onto the nearest table, planting my feet on the tablecloth. A few eyes look up from their conversations, but otherwise the din of the hall remains the same.
I hold a microphone to my mouth. It was a fake, and even if it was real, there weren’t any speakers to connect it to. But that didn’t stop me.
“MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION, EVERYONE.” My shout rings across the hall like a peal of thunder, making people wince and silence their conversations. Now, all eyes are on me, some surprised, some annoyed.
“Thank you,” I say, lowering my voice to a conversational but just as clear volume. “You’ve all been gathered here today in Phoenix Hall because you are the best of the best.” That is a lie, they were the closest ones we could find on short notice. “You have been chosen to show your life’s accomplishments in magic in front of two of the most skilled magicians of the era.” I nod to Alatar. “In an hour, all of you will leave defeated, except for one person. That one person will come with us and meet the other masters, who will become their closest mentors. One day, they will become the next Grand Magician of Phoenix Hall, an honor most people can only dream of, and their name shall forever go down in history.”
I stare at the assembled crowd before me. “Are there any questions before we begin?”
Dozens of hands shoot into the air. I point to a man in an impeccable three-piece suit and pristine white gloves. “You, sir.”
“Where’s the food we were promised?”
I groan internally. “Dinner will be served later.” I point to a woman in a flowing robe and checkered bowtie. “You.”
“Is there a participation award?”
“Merlin-dammit!” I shout into the micrphone, making everyone wince. “Does anyone have a question about the event?”
Every hand slowly falls down except for one in the back. I point to him, and he yells across the hall.
“Can we become a Grand Wizard if we don’t know any magic?”
I groan. “No! If you don’t know any magic, get out! And don’t call it a Grand Wizard, this isn’t the KKK!”
A figure in a white conical hat silently stands up and leaves, followed by a large number of the more casually dressed attendants. Their grumbling and complaining slowly fades away.
“Now that that’s done with.” I rub a sweaty palm on my pants. “If you do know magic, but the best you can do is simple parlor tricks, you can also get out.” I look at the man with the tophat. “That means you. Rabbits in hats are so last millenium.”
Another large number of people gather their belongings and exit the hall. Only a dozen or so people are left, one of them asleep. I try not to let my disappointment show.
“Good. The rest of you will do. Which one of you wants to start us off?”
A nervous-looking woman stands up, holding a bowler hat.
“You. Come up here. Show us what you got.”
She walks to the center of the hall, trembling a little. “I, uh, for this magic tr-trick I will, uh…”
I sigh. “Just show us already.”
“R-Right.” She takes out a baseball cap from behind her back. “Watch this.” She reaches into the cap and pulls out a cat, which yowls and scratches at her. She drops the hissing cat and it lands on the ground, immediately scampering away.
I stare at her. “I’m quite sure I said *no hat tricks.* That’s not impressive.”
“Y-You said no *rabbit* hat tricks.” She rubs a scratch on her arm.
“No hat tricks, period. Go back to your table.”
“Wait! I’m not done yet!” She reaches into her cap and pulls out a pony. It whinnies and jumps out of her hands, pawing at the ground and sprinting away, knocking over chairs in its path. “That’s a really big one!”
I look at her in disbelief. “You’re making a mess. And besides, I’ve seen this before. Not impressed. Ne-”
She reaches into her cap again. “H-Hold on!” Her hands take out an apple tree, which she drops to the ground with a grunt. Ripe, red apples fall to the ground with scattered thuds. “How about this?”
“Been there, done that,” I say. “This isn’t a garden.”
She takes out a dodo bird, which flaps its wings uselessly and falls to the ground. “This one’s extinct!”
I roll my eyes. “That trick has been done since, well, dodo birds went extinct hardly a few centuries ago. Take out a dinosaur or get lost.”
She reaches into her cap again, but doesn’t pull her hand out. Her brow furrows in concentration and her arms visibly clench. “Umph… this one’s heavy.”
I quirk an eyebrow. What’s she doing?
Her eyes squeeze in exertion and she slowly pulls something out while panting loudly as if every inch requires all her strength and willpower. A shaggy golden mane pokes out of the hat. Next comes white, feathery wings, five times larger than she is. Then comes the body of a massive, hunched over human with a whipping tail.
I gasp, and Alatar shouts something. Head of a lion, wings of a bird, body of a human. She’s pulling a sphinx out of a hat!
Her hand finally yanks free of the hat and she falls to the floor in exhaustion. The sphinx lunges away from her and pounces onto an empty table, crushing it like paper under its paws. It tosses back its head and roars.
Applause sounds through the hall and someone whoops. I must admit, that *is* pretty impressive. The woman smiles with satisfaction from where she sits on the ground, face slick with sweat.
Then the sphinx turns its head to the right. Its gaze focuses on a man in a cloak, the one who had whooped earlier. His face pales and he stops his clapping. “Good kitty?”
It bellows and leaps towards him, claws outstrectched.
***BANG***
The sphinx crashes to the ground just shy of the man and doesn't move. A large hole appears in its flank, spilling blood onto the floor.
I look at Alatar, who is pointing a plastic green water pistol at the dead animal. He shrugs. “Magic,” he says.
I look at the woman and grin. “Very well done. I’m surprised, honestly. I haven’t seen anyone take a sphinx out of a hat before.”
She looks at me with gleaming hope in her eyes.
“Please return to your table once you’ve caught your breath,” I say. “We’ll see what the others can do, and if none of them can match your magic, you will be the next Grand Magician of Phoenix Hall.”
She smiles, but before she can reply, someone says, “Wait.”
The man in the cloak is kneeling next to the sphinx’s corpse.
“I found a phone on this thing, inside the gaping wound,” he says. “I opened it since it doesn’t have a password, and, well, there’s an entire chat message between the sphinx and someone named Melissa, who I assume is this lady. And, well...”
The woman had turned pale and scowling.
“Keep going,” I say.
The man stares me dead in the eye, holding up the phone screen. “The sphinx is a paid actor. They arranged this beforehand. In other words, she lied.”
Alatar leans into my ear. “I told you so,” he whispers.
---
r/OracleOfCake | Herzia took a deep breath, trying to force her mind to focus on the complex spell in front of her. She just about had the shape of it in her head, but there were some wards that she couldn’t quite figure out. They were archaic, written in Olden and constructed of a far different geometry than she was accustomed to. Whoever had put this particular spell on the entrance exam was a mad combination of ingenious and devious.
“Think, Herzia. The rest of this structure is too ornate, it can’t be a dud,” the young witch muttered to herself.
She’d spent the last fifteen minutes on this problem, and she could see why it had been the last problem on the exam. This was the hardest challenge, by far. Olden wasn’t even taught in school anymore. There was no way anyone could definitively tell what the wards did. They’d all have to guess, the same way she was doing.
“There’s no mana source anywhere else, it must be the power supply,” Herzia continued with her musing. “That’s the only way this thing works. It used an Olden power source. But why two wards?”
The first ward was simple, large but crude. She still didn’t know what it did, but it was far simpler than the second one. The second one was nearly as large as the first, but was about ten times more intricate. It didn’t just connect the Olden wards to the rest of the spell, it ran the first ward through arcanery that she couldn’t even begin to understand.
The rest of the spell was straight forward enough, it was some sort of a translocation spell. Were it not for the two strange wards, Herzia would’ve simply provided a bit of mana to see what it did. Instead, she frowned and fretted over the spell.
The only clue she could muster was at the connection between the Olden ward and the rest of the traditional hexes. It was a limiter of some sort, but not one that she’d ever seen before. It seemed to have some sort of repeater to it, like it would repeatedly limit and allow mana to flow through the spell. She’d never seen that structure before, most spells either worked or they didn’t. This one seemed to take turns doing … something.
“Make one change to the following spell to repair it,” Herzia read the instructions aloud again. She hoped that reminding herself of the task would let her see a potential solution.
She dared not touch the Olden wards, for she had no idea what she would need to adjust or if it was even safe to do so. The only thing that made sense to her was to adjust the limiter. With a little luck, that was the correct component to adjust.
But what change should she make? If it both limited and repeated, what should she adjust? The rest of the spell was standard an expected a steady flow of mana, not some sort of switch.
“Wait, what if I make it switch really fast?!” Herzia exclaimed in a burst of inspiration.
If she could make the limiter repeat very quickly, the rest of the spell might not even even react fast enough to realize that the limiter had flipped from on to off and back. The output would start to look a little bit like a steady flow of mana. It wouldn’t be identical, but it *should* work.
Excited by the idea, Herzia, quickly applied her wand to the limiter and worked quickly. Now that she had the idea in mind, she could let her practiced hands complete the task in front of them. In a few short seconds, she had adjusted the spell.
“Okay, here goes nothing,” Herzia whispered.
“Alakazoom!” she pronounced the spell’s starter glyph aloud, waiting for something to happen.
She had expected an object to appear, but instead a light seemed to emanate from the spell.
— — — — —
“Congratulations, young witch!” came a voice from somewhere inside the spell.
“Uh, hello?”
“Take a moment, Herzia.”
“H-h-how do you know my name?”
“I know all of the candidate’s names, Herzia. My name is Professor Kulnath.”
“THE Professor Kulnath? The head of Wizard Studies?”
“The one and the same. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Pleased to make yours, Professor. But how? I don’t underst-“
“Before I can answer your questions, I have one of my own. You have successfully repaired the Telephone spell, but that’s only half the question.”
“Half?” Herzia’s heart dropped. The first half had been challenging enough, she couldn’t imagine working on a second problem of that ilk.
“Haha,” Professor Kulnath’s voice boomed. “Relax, young lady. I just need you to explain why you made the change you made.”
“I, uh, well … it was the only thing that made sense.”
“How so?”
“The Olden wards had to be some sort of power source, but I didn’t dare touch them. The rest of the glyphs were pristine, so they couldn’t be the problem. The limiter was the only thing that made sense to touch.”
“It’s called a ‘transformer.’”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought the transformer was the best place to adjust the spell.”
“And why that change?”
“I can’t explain it well, but it was the repeater that gave me the idea. It’s like a swing. If I swing back and forth slowly, someone will notice I’m moving back and forth. But if I swing really, really fast, it starts to blur together, almost like I’m in lots of places at once.”
“Well told, young witch!” Professor Kulnath praised Herzia in a burst of pride. “That’s precisely what you were intended to do.”
“I was?”
“Yes, we had hoped others would go through the same deductive reasoning process you did, but you were the only one of your peers to do so.”
“Oh …”
Herzia was still confused by the exact mechanics of the spell, but she felt a surge of pride. She had figured it out, and she had been the only one to complete the problem.
“So, let me be the first to officially welcome you to Wizard Studies, Herzia. You are the newest novice in our illustrious history.”
“I’m … in?”
“Yes! You’ve earned it, Herzia. Congratulations again!”
“Than- thank you, sir! Thank you very much!” Herzia practically squealed with glee.
“Just one word of warning, young lady: be careful on your first day of school. Your talent is obvious, and there may be some who will regard it with jealousy. Some of these people are much better at lying than they are at magic.”
Herzia gulped, hard. Wizard Studies sounded like it was going to be quite the adventure. | 2020-05-02T13:09:36 | 2020-05-02T12:35:06 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] We have been wrong all along. The sun is really just the fiery eyes of a Celestial Being who hasn't blinked in a second of it's own time. Which it is currently about to do. | “Daddy, I’m bored,” says Karinda. “It’s been ages since you’ve let me play with any of your systems.”
I sigh internally and brace myself for yet another repeat of the same explanation. Pleasing a daughter who’s only six eons old is never an easy task. The last time I let her play with one of my prized systems, she made everything explode—which is cool for a tween girl, not so much for her father who has to go back and resculpt everything before the microlife protection inspectors come round to make sure we’re not extinguishing too any of the infinitesimal beings that live on those rocks.
They’re like pets, except you can’t see them at all without a planetary scanning microscope. I suppose that makes it easier for Karinda to squash them to bits. If I’m being honest, the MPIs are a huge pain in the ass that are far too obsessed with the proper protocols for their own good, but hey, somebody living on those tiny rocks must thank their bleeding liberal hearts for it.
“Why don’t we play the staring game?” Karinda jumps up and down excitedly.
“I can’t right now, dear. I’m busy cultivating a new system, and if I blink, the billions of microbeings on this planet will die. See this one?” I point at the third rock in the arrangement, levitating in front of my eyes. “That’s Merin-Kerinda. Named after you!”
When I glance at her with one of my other five eyes, Karinda doesn’t seem too impressed. “You mean this tiny rock the size of my fingernail has billions of novae living on it?”
“Not novae, microbeings,” I explain patiently. “I know it’s hard to picture, but they’re there. Think of them as smaller, dumber and uglier versions of you and me. The ones on Merin-Kerinda only have two eyes!”
“Two?” Karinda gasps. “How do they see anything?”
I laugh and pat her on the back. “If everything’s so tiny, they shouldn’t need as many eyes to see, should they?”
Her mouths scrunch up in concentration. “I guess.”
I hope that she’s satisfied, but a few moments later, she’s jumping up and down again. If she keeps this up, I might actually be distracted enough to blink the eye I’m using to keep Merin-Kerinda alive.
“Daddeeeeeeeee,” Karinda sings. “Come on, let’s play the staring game. Who cares about that stupid planet anyways?”
“The MPIs do, dear. I’m due for inspection next eon, and if Merin-Kerinda doesn’t work out, I’ll have to spend ages making a new one—and if I do that, then I won’t have any time to play with you.”
Karinda seems to consider that for a moment. “Well, can we play the staring game with just five eyes?”
I weigh the benefits of placating my daughter with the possible loss in concentration that might cause me to shift a little or do something else equally minute that causes Merin-Kerinda’s microbeings to kick the bucket. Damn those critters, always so fragile. You flick your eyeball a bit in the wrong direction and they drop dead.
“Two,” I counter.
Karinda narrows her eyes. “Four!”
“Three, and that’s my final offer,” I say in my stern dad tone.
“Fine. Three eyes, and you promise to try your best!” She’s getting smarter, becoming able to tell when I’m paying her less than her due of attention.
We begin the game, staring at each other for several eternities, before Karinda eventually blinks in one eye. She doesn’t give up, though, and waggles her eyebrows, trying to get me to blink. But she just can’t keep up with the experience I’ve developed in holding my eye still for long periods of time, such as to allow planets to complete their full life cycle. Just as my first eye blinks, Karinda’s third and final eye finally closes.
She shrieks in defeat and, before I know what has happened, waves her hands in front of my face so that I blink in all six eyes.
Shit.
“Karinda!” I snap.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.” Her expression disagrees. Several huge grins are stuck to her face, as she revels in the destruction that she’s caused.
“Ugh.” I grimace. The MPIs probably aren’t going to accept “my six eon-old daughter was a sore loser in a staring match so she made me blink and took out that planet I was supposed to cultivate” as an excuse, so that means I’ll have to start all over again.
I run my hands through my hair as it sinks in fully that I’ll have to go through the whole. Goddamn. Process. Again.
Fine.
I take a deep breath and say,
“Let there be light!”
| "Don't look."
That's all the man can think. All around him, the crowd has frozen like sculptures in a park, their faces turned towards the darkening sun.
"Don't look."
Blood drips down cheeks. Breath comes in hitching gasps. The sky blackens and chars like ash, and crackling spreads across the heavens. The world is ending -- right?
"Don't look."
It is as if time has stopped. The man, who does not look, can see the breathing of the living statues around him hitch and halt. Through the crowd, he hears crying, and between the motionless legs he sees a baby lying on the asphalt, thrashing its weak limbs and screaming. He brushes past the statues -- they topple over, still frozen with their heads pointed skyward -- and kneels at the baby. It's no more than four months old, and its little face is screwed up as it screams. Girl, he thinks, judging by the pink fabric of the baby's clothing. "Shhh," he says, trembling; a deadly silence has settled over the world, and a shadow is falling across the crumbling sky.
The baby cries. Its eyes are shut with its wails, and he wonders if that's the only reason it isn't frozen like the rest. He picks it up, feeling his own tears fall and mix with the tears on the baby's face. "Shhh," he says. "It'll be alright. Don't look. Don't look."
He pats the baby, rubs its tiny back. The squirming ceases. The baby opens its eyes, clear and blue, and looks behind him at the sun.
"No," he whispers, but it's too late. The baby freezes, a glowing smile spreading over its face and stopping. The baby is as still and statue-like.
He has to look. He has to see what is so lovely that even a baby will smile beatifically, even as its eyes leak red. He has to look. He has to look.
He twists on the balls of his feet and looks. Centered in the hole the sky has become is an almond-shaped light, beautiful, glowing, brilliant, and it is slowly growing thinner.
The eye in the sky blinks. It is the last thing the man ever sees. | 2018-06-13T14:46:46 | 2018-06-13T10:16:14 | 58 | 14 |
[WP] many young adults claim to have seen a tv show called "teletubbies" as kids, but there is no record of such a show existing.
Shamelessly stolen from vinny vinesauce | Leo sat on the train looking out the window. He loved traveling in train. There was something romantic about it, the quite noise, the careful ruffle and the whole world passing by. He was miles from home but it looked exactly like home. The sun was shining through the trees , blinding his eyes so he turned away from the window, looking down the aisle. A baby was smiling in its mothers lap, unaware of the world around, just happy to be there. The baby's laugh reminded him of a show he used to watch as a kid, Teletubbies. The premise of the show seems very vague and ridiculous thinking back on it. Four... Somethings, living in some house. A house was it? Perhaps it looked like the house in which Luke Skywalker grew up in, a globeshaped building with a subterranean living room. Wasn't it like a vacuum cleaner of some sorts in the mix? Sounds strange thinking back on it. He remembered vaguely a vacuum cleaner with eyes who had a life on of its own, stealing the Teletubbies pancakes.
Pancakes? Leo smiled back on the memory. Stupid show. No wonder his generation became what it is.
He picked up his phone and opened the Safari application.
"T-e-l-e-t"... The Google search suggestion spelled it out for him. He looked down the list.
"Teletubbies"
"Teletubbies name"
"Teletubbies gay"
"Teletubbies real"
Teletubbies real? Did people actually Google if their were real Teletubbies? Must be some cosplay thing.
First hit was a link to some Internet forum he wasn't familiar with.
"Was the "Teletubbies" real? it read.
He scrolled down. All the links were real.
"Why can't I find any videos or pictures from the Teletubbies show?"
"What happened to the Teletubbies"
"Did I make up the Teletubbies?"
What is this? Leo thought to himself? Must be some internet joke I missed.
An hour went past. The sun had gone down, the baby down the aisle slept quietly and Leo's battery level was down on 18%. He couldn't believe what was going on. There was no record of a show called the Teletubbies has ever existed, but yet thousands of people online had the same memory of a show called "Teletubbies" with four furry tubbies with televisions in the stomach and a sun with a baby's face in it. Leo was sweating and was honestly scared. He looked down his aisle again. He felt as if they were all part of this. The baby was planted there. The mother was a spy, or something. The conductor, he must have been part of this. They were all coming to get him. A flash of reality hit Leo when he looked out the window, the train had stopped at his stop. He flew up grabbed his bag and flew out the door, just as the whistle blew and the trains doors closed.
Where was his mother? He looked around. He station was almost empty save three backpackers about the same age as him looking at a map and a middle-aged man in a suit. He ran up to the man and grabbed him by the collar.
"WHAT HAPPENED TO THE TELETUBBIES!?!" he yelled so loud he scares himself. The man was so startled he could utter a word.
"WHY DIDN'T THEY EXIST?! WHAT IS THIS!"
"LET ME GO!" the man screamed and pushed him away. More angered than before Leo was getting ready to fight the man when he felt somebody grab him from behind and wrestle him down.
Leo screamed "LET ME GO LET ME GO" and kicked his legs so hard he shoe fell off and he kicked his foot so hard in asphalt she screamed out of pain.
A voice told him
"Over the hills and far away,
Teletubbies come and play".
He opened his eyes and saw on of the backpackers standing over him.
"What did you say?" Leo asked him, staring into his eyes. He couldn't tell if they were cynical or kind. The backpacker looked away.
"Help him up"
They lifted him up and he stood in his feet. What was that accent? Leo looked around. The suit was gone. He didn't realize how dark it was. Had he passed out? Where was his mother? She was suppose to pick him up.
"It's not easy when you first realize it, huh?"
Leo looked back at him, confused. The backpacker sneered at him.
"It's all true. Or not true, depending how you look at it I suppose. The Teletubbies never existed"
Leo looked at him. He couldn't quite tell if he was helping or mocking him.
"But... But why do I know about it? Why does so many people remember the show it it never existed"
The backpackers sneered fell as he looked down the station, watching as a train was arriving.
"I don't know. Nobody know. But we aim to find out. We managed to find out via Internet forums that the show originated here in the U.K. , in a little town called Stratford-upon-Avon"
"Shakespeare's birthplace" another of the backpackers filled in, smiling at Leo.
"Exactly. We're so close now, we hope... Let him go, here's our train".
The two others let him go and they walked away from him towards the newly arrived train. A group of people left, walking down towards the exit. Finally Leo saw his mothers waving at him.
He watched as the backpackers entered the train, still confused.
"Wait! he shouted, and the leader of the three turned around, awaiting the question.
"But... Why is it that only some people know what it is? Why didn't the suit man know what I was talking about?"
The backpacker smiled, looking up towards the sky. Just as the door was closing he answered:
"Because, only 90s kids remember."
| "There was a whole controversy about them!" Linda said. "This televangelist thought that one of them was gay because he had a - that thing on his head was a triangle! And it was like a pink triangle, except he was purple. And he, uh, he carried a man-purse."
Jared looked at her from over his phone. "Okay, that sounds sort of familiar, but you have to admit that none of that makes any sense and sounds like complete bullshit."
"But you remember it, don't you?" Linda insisted.
"I dunno. I remember something about a gay controversy, sure. But I don't remember anything about the pink-purple triangles or whatever it was you said." Jared shrugged. "I figured it was because they all looked gay as hell."
"Ugh!" Linda slammed her phone down on the table. *No results found for* **teletubbies**, it read on the screen. "How else do you explain it, then? We both remember the Teletubby show, and we both remember there was a gay controversy about it. That has to mean something!"
"It's our brains remembering something different," Jared said, turning his attention back to his phone. "There are gay controversies about everything. Some dude thought Spongebob was gay. I wouldn't ...."
"What?" Linda said irritably. "You wouldn't what?"
"Holy shit," Jared whispered, turning his phone to her. "You were right. I found it. Some dude wrote an entire wiki page about it."
"What?!" She was on her feet, peering at the screen. "How'd you find that? I couldn't find anything on the internet!"
"I'm really good at googling. Particularly obscure stuff." She moved behind his shoulder so they could read the page together.
"This is it, this is it," Linda said, nodding. "Multi-colored toddlers, television screens implanted in their abdomens ... Wait, two Daytime Emmys?"
"Holy shit," Jared said. "'A single based on the show's theme song reached number 1 in the UK Singles Chart in December 1997 and remained in the Top 75 for 32 weeks, selling over a million copies.'"
Linda scrolled down the page rapidly. "The 'Tubbytronic Superdome'? 'Reluctant, but eventually obedient Teletubbies'? What the fuck? Who wrote this?"
"Some weirdo." He checked the page history. "Buncha weirdos." He quickly clicked back. "Okay, here are the different Teletubbies. Here's the purple one with the triangle, like you said. Nothing about him being gay, though."
"Dipsy ... he's green," Linda mumbled. "Most stubborn ... 'His face is notably darker than the rest of the Teletubbies, and the creators have stated that he is black'??"
"Supporting characters..." Jared read. "'The Tiddlytubbies (voiced by Teresa Gallagher) are baby Teletubbies appearing in the revival series.' A revival series? 'Their names are Mi-Mi, Daa Daa, Baa, Ping, RuRu, Nin, Duggle Dee and Umby Pumby.'"
Linda and Jared exchanged glances.
"Okay, fuck it, you were right," Linda said, straightening up and holding up her hands. "I got hoaxed by someone on the internet. There's no way any of that actually existed." | 2016-07-01T07:11:59 | 2016-07-01T06:36:56 | 401 | 88 |
[WP] Each planet possesses a God, which created the planets. The reason aliens won't come and visit us is that our planet's God is the most dangerous one in existence. | I do not favour the names the self named humans had given me, Kronos, Osiris, Zeus, Odin, Jupiter, Allah, God, mother nature; even crazier so many claimed to be the only sons and daughters of me! They were all my children, and only mine.
Humans had something the other denizens of the universe did not, hope. Hope gave me great power, much more then sacrifice or worship had ever; more than those logical, or savage races whose Gods had not the determination to wipe out their races when they did not offer anything but pitiful worship themselves. The weak could not give what they did not have. I had wiped out the dinosaurs, and tried to wipe out the humans once when they were weak and stupid, but they proved that hope and perseverance were strong forces, even if they weren't able to manifest them like I could.
The hope siphon returned far more energy to me than I gave out in life force to the planet. It was a foreign energy even to me after half a million years but it could manipulate dark energy the stuff we gods were made of, the largest mass in the universe.
I never would have thought that the monkeys picking their own asses and licking their fingers clean, would have become these... hopeful creatures; granted some still pick their ass and throw a hamburger into their mouth.
Whenever one of my "brothers and sisters" attempted to take what is mine I would stop their attacks. They relied on their mortals in space ships traveling as slow as light among the stars. Machines of metal and gas that provided nothing but a survivable environment for the mortals on board against one such as me.
Lashing out, like a hand across a chess board I would sweep away their armada's into the nearby star. It happened so quickly humans did not notice for many years. when humans finally could see the explosion they called it a solar flare. Little did they know it was me preventing them from being glassed.
The attacks always occurred when the humans were in great wars, first when the Kings of Persia invaded Greece, Caesars conquests, during the back and forth of the crusades, Genghis Khan's invasion of Europe. The closest to being defeated was during the forty year period of the world wars, when hope was lost to so many across the world.
After that period I determined that my brothers and sisters were too dangerous to let roam the universe. I put the thought of space travel in the the greatest minds of the winning states after world war two. Pitting them against each other in a cold war, that would never ignite as I would not allow it. Intent on having them master space.
It took much longer then expected.... Smart phones, social media, whimsical wants made them vain and self centered. Even as I put more dreams of the cosmos into their minds; they only used these ideas as movies and stories for many years.
Human hope never went away, in fact it got stronger even if not for my wants. They hoped on lottery, a Christmas bonus and other such ways of boosting ones worth among peers.
That went on for decades until finally they ventured out and explored Mars in person, led by man named after a type of odor, for why he was named such I have no idea. The man died on Mars, but what he started ignited a fire under the rest of humanities ass.
While we, Gods you might call us were all relatively equal, I knew at that time, with humans feeding me hope at my side; I would take the universe from my wasteful brothers and sisters. | He, the one, the only, the almighty. Some call him God, and others, Satan. He created our world, brought it forth from the ashes of space, placed it countless miles away from every other inhabitable planet. Instead of going out and having a beer with his mates, he wreaked havoc among the countless gas giants. Shrunk Pluto. Annihilate alien spaceships up in the sun. For what? His mates blow him off and don’t invite him for a drinking night.
“Mark!” They would cry(collectively), waving their hands at him. “That’s the third spaceship this week!” Only, instead of saying spaceship, they would say alternate mode of transport.. Mark did admit they were stupid, he did-
How could he not?
But they are the only friends he has. Friends don’t exactly line up for you in the intergalactic cosmos. After all, what was the point of being eternal unless you could spend a few centuries blackout drunk? | 2017-11-27T07:29:23 | 2017-11-27T03:06:22 | 201 | 33 |
[WP] Instead of a dystopia that seems like a utopia on the surface, write a story about a utopia that seems like a dystopia on the surface. | Sam Bradwell choked down a cough, beads of sweat trickling down his temple. His head throbbed. He'd been a fool to come to work today, but what excuse did he have for missing it? And it had seemed so mild that morning, just a tickle in his throat and a slightly stuffed up nose. No one would notice, he'd told himself. And now here he was, five hours later, clearing his throat every five minutes and trying to keep down a coughing fit. Sharon had been glancing at him from her desk for the last half hour. She knew. They all knew.
Sam tried to smile, nodding at her and acting natural, when another coughing fit caught him by surprise. He sprayed spit across his desk and was wracked over with coughs, turning and hocking up a wad of phlegm into his wastebasket. When he looked back up, Sharon was staring at him panicked, whispering urgently into her phone. Fuck. She was calling the Purgers.
Sam rose from his desk and started briskly heading for the doorway, all of his coworkers' eyes on him as they backed out of his way. Some of them were also on their phones. Sam kept walking, eyes fixed on the door, and burst into a run the moment he was through it.
He dashed down the stairwell, his chest heaving and tight. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He'd been caught being sick. The Purgers responded instantly, they'd be on him in minutes. There was a part of him even in his panic that was a still, steady calm. Even if he'd made up an excuse, hadn't come in to work today, he couldn't have stayed healthy forever. Sooner or later, someone would have caught him being ill. This was inevitable.
He burst out into the parking lot, heading to his car, and stopped dead in his tracks. There they were, a pair of Purgers in their white hazmat suits, looking straight at him. He turned to run, short of breath, and was caught up in another coughing fit. He stumbled, doubled over, and felt their hands clamp down on his shoulder. He looked up into their gleaming blank faces.
“Mr. Sam Bradwell?" one of them said through its respirator. "We’ve received some reports that you were feeling ill.”
"No, no, no," he stammered, backing away. "It's - it's the dust, is all. I, uh -" He wiped a glob of phlegm from the corner of his mouth. "The - uh - the exertion." His voice betrayed him, wheezing, hoarse. One of them retrieved a tool from its belt.
"We're going to need to take a sample, sir," it said, pointing it closer.
"You got no right!" Sam said, ferocious, desperate. His head was burning. "My body's my own, and there's no laws you can pass that can change that! You can't outlaw being sick! You fucking fascists! A man's got a right to his own body!"
The Purger withdrew the device, speckled with his spit, and looked down at the readout. They looked down at Sam Bradwell with barely disguised contempt. "I think you'll find the government has a vested interest in protecting public health and welfare. And when people like you refuse to get vaccinated -"
"I know what your goddamn vaccines do!" Sam yelled. Maybe he was feverish. Maybe he was more alive than he had ever been in his life. "My nephew got your damn vaccines, and now look at him! He's autistic!"
The Purgers let out a deep sigh.
"I got a right to my own body!" Sam pushed on. "It's goddamn fascism is what it is, forcing me to take your drugs!"
"Look, sir," said the other, "think about what's at stake here. We as a species are on the verge of eradicating all communicable diseases. And it's not just your health we're concerned about. Think about all the people who the vaccine doesn't work for. The hyper-reactives. The cyborgs. The –”
“Fuck them and fuck you," Sam spat. He thrust out his arms, trembling. "Get it the hell over with."
The Purgers glanced at each other and shrugged, and one of them touched the injector into his skin. A burst of microscopic gold particles penetrated the skin layer and entered the bloodstream, releasing the cure that would purge the cold virus from his system.
Sam Bradwell stood there with them, staring ferociously as they monitored his vitals. "All right, sir," one of them said. "Thank you for cooperating. You're free to go."
Sam stomped off, feeling their eyes on his back. Deep in his mind, the one place they couldn't touch, he planned his next move.
Though it was a lot easier to breathe, he had to admit. | Amber pulled on her grey jumpsuit and looked around her drab grey room. Her simple bed with grey blankets sat in the corner of the room next to a small black metal desk. She sighed and left her room. It was a long walk down the concrete hallway to the reclamation chamber. She had been chosen to work in the reclamation chamber since she had turned fourteen, that was six years ago.
She pressed her ID badge against the proxy reader and the metal door swung open with a light squeal. A group of women and girls were already walking the fields with watering buckets in hand. Amber could hear the song the girls were singing as it drifted over the young crops. They believed the singing helped the crops grow, it seemed silly to Amber but as she took her boots off and walked barefoot through the warm wet soil she began to sing.
Lights hung from the ceiling pouring out light and heat that fed the crops. It was difficult work and by the end of the day Amber was drenched in sweat. They worked the fields everyday, because if they didn't it would be disastrous. A small buzzer went off letting the girls know that it was meal time. Covered in dirt and sweat they walked out of the reclamation chamber and quickly washed their faces and hands in the washroom. As a group they walked to the dining hall. A large wide room filled with tables. Men and women wearing grey jump suits sat at the tables chatting quietly over trays of food.
The women were greeted with praise and applause as they walked in. Amber felt her face flush, she always blushed when they did this. She gave a slight wave and got in line for food. Fresh vegetables, fruit, and greens filled her plate as the server gave her a broad smile.
The girls sat at their table and waited for the words to be spoken.
An old man stood up from a table and tapped a metal fork on the table drawing everyone's attention.
"Ever since the calamity we have lived down in here, and everyday we send our best and brightest to grow our food. Thank you to the women that toil away everyday in the reclamation chamber. To our growers!" he raised a glass of water and the dining hall cheered in unison.
---
Thank you for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit | 2016-07-14T07:18:26 | 2016-07-14T05:42:08 | 1,788 | 145 |
[WP] You're a multi billionaire with severe god delusions. You have several small children kidnapped and leave them on an island with resources and carefully placed 'evidence' suggesting at your divinity. Ten years later, you arrive at the island...
Edit: Sweet, frontpage | My bones ache. My muscles are tense. My hair loses more colour by the day. My breathes are shorter. My heart beats a little faster. My body shrinks. Such things happen when one's body ages. But I am not my body. No, I am much more.
Over the course of my life I have run an empire. In the beginning, I used my wealth to simply fund my rather active night life, but when such things began to wear me down I began to focus on growing my assets and influences. It wasn't long before my genius produced a company with roots embedded throughout the country. My billions became hundreds of billions, my voice a shout, too loud to be ignored, too ferocious to be turned down.
Throughout my life I have made sure my legacy will be passed down, for isn't that how immortality is achieved? I chose boys who I viewed as smart, as intelligent, as worthy successors to what I had created. But I was a fool. The ones I chose were either weak or foolish, ending up off the path I set or in the ground because of it. At first I mourned their departures, but it wasn't long until I realized my weakness. Successors aren't chosen by the heart, they're chosen by the mind. As my body ailed I realized I no longer had the time nor patience to go through a potential candidate one by one and become foolishly attached, I needed to test multiple candidates from a distance, where I could observe safely detached.
At night I traveled the country. When I found talent, I took them from their life of drudgery and placed them on an island. My island. After a year I had all the talent I needed to test. Now all I had to do was wait.
The island itself was fraught with tests of survival, pushing the boys to their limits. Conditioning their bodies to perfection, crafting their minds to always be cunning, they pushed themselves to the limit of their potential. Throughout the island I left recordings of my voice to tell them of their purpose to carry on a legacy, I left shrines for them to honour me, I left books and newspapers and anything else to show them what I have done in my life, what my legacy truly is. I could see through my monitors how they came to honour me, respect me, and soon worship me. I became the only thing they knew.
As much as each boy had the potential to carry on what I had created, its clear only one could. So I waited until only one boy remained, one soldier with undying loyalty to me who had the gifts necessary to outlive and outsmart everyone else. It took longer than expected, but after ten years one emerged. It was time for me to show myself.
It had been so long. I had retired my night life to focus on my empire. But what came next was necessary. I flew to the island and landed. I knew where the boy was. But I couldn't show up just yet. One final detail was needed. I stripped from my business suit and stood before it. The garbs of a god. I made my way through the night. Unseen and unheard. I found the boy, who now I can say is a man. He turned to see me. His eyes widened.
"Its you."
"Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life, Robin."
| I sat back in my chair. I'd had this strange dream where I'd had several small children kidnapped and left on an island with carefully placed evidence suggesting my divinity. Then ten years later I arrived at the island. 세 살 적 버릇이 여든까지 간다 of course they thought I was a god and worshipped me.
Heh, what a strange dream. Particularly so since the island was such a small thing. Why be the god of an island when I could be the god of a nation? I started when I heard a knock on the door. "Kim Il-sung, everything is in place for when you are ready to address us." | 2015-11-27T08:05:24 | 2015-11-27T07:51:24 | 86 | 46 |
[WP] Immortality is actually quite easy to achieve, but you'd have to meet Death first. You had asked Death "Is not dying, or gaining immortality a possibility?" and to your surprise Death said yes. | I was driving home from work, and on the horizon of the road I see an eighteen-wheeler coming towards me. I desperately try to steer the car away from the massive vehicle, but I couldn’t because the sides of the bridge were too narrow. I had to make a choice, would I rather drive off the bride and drown? Or face a head on collision with the truck? I chose the ladder because I figured if I’m going to die, it may as well be quick.
​
I honk at the man driving the eighteen-wheeler trying desperately to get his attention, but the semi slows down to no avail. My whole life flashes before my eyes, and then everything goes black. For what seems like an eternity, I later open my eyes and look up at the night-time sky. “Where am I?” I ask myself.
​
“You’re dead.” I hear a voice say to me. I begin to get up to look around, and behind me is standing the grim reaper. “I’m dead?” I ask the skeleton in tattered grey robes.
​
“Yeah,” he says while looking through his clipboard. “You were hit by a semi on the bridge. Tough luck, but that’s just the way the cookie crumbles sometimes.”
​
“What happens to me now?” I ask Death.
​
“That’s it.” Says death. “I will now send you into the void of reality. Where you will forever merge with nothingness.”
​
“Well that sucks.” I protest. "Is not dying, or gaining immortality a possibility?"
​
“It actually is.” Death tells me in a matter-of-fact tone. “The only way to become immortal in this dimension is to become a grim reaper.”
​
“Well how do I do that?” I ask.
​
Death begins to laugh. He steps back, glances at me, and scratches his chin. “Well. If you’re really serious about becoming a grim reaper, all I have to do is grant you the power to become immortal. But, in order for me to bestow immortality onto a mortal, I must first test if you’re capable of doing the job.”
​
“Okay. I’ll do it. I’d rather be a grim reaper than go into some kind of void. So what kind of test are we talking about here?” I ask Death.
​
“You have to take another human’s life.” Death tells me solemnly. “You won’t be a very effective grim reaper if you’re not willing to take the lives of other mortals. Remember being immortal is a job, it isn’t a permanent vacation. So, if you really want it, you’re going to have to show me you can handle the responsibility.”
​
I stand there for a good minute and think about what I should do. “Okay.” I say to the grim reaper. “I’ll do it.”
​
“Good.” Death hands me his scythe. “Go over to that semi that killed you, and take the guy’s life who was driving. He’s been an alcoholic for decades. His liver is trashed, and it’s only a matter of time before he ends up in a hospital anyway.”
​
I grab the scythe and begin to examine it. It feels cold to the touch and pulsates some kind of primordial energy beyond anything I’ve ever felt before while being alive. “Okay I’ll do it. But, how am I supposed to use this scythe?”
​
“It’s a scythe, you just swipe towards the soul you’re trying to banish, and that’s all there is to it. This isn’t rocket science. Now hurry up, I’m already behind schedule.” Death orders me.
​
“Okay. I’ll be right back.” I walk towards the eighteen-wheeler and look through the driver’s door. The man actually appears to be in pretty good condition for such a violent accident. I lift the scythe behind my right shoulder, and slice it through the truck driver’s abdomen. Surprisingly, this had no effect on his physical body, but his soul immediately came out of the corpse and onto the pavement beside me.
​
“Where am I!” The truck driver exclaimed. I thought about getting angry at him and telling him how he carelessly killed me, but I was somewhat thankful at the same time because now I could become immortal.
​
“You’re dead.” I tell him.
​
“No, I, I can’t be dead!” The driver denies.
​
“Sorry, but you are. I must now send your soul into the void of this dimension.” I step back and grab the scythe with both hands.
​
“Wait!” The man yelped while getting on his hands and knees. “I don’t want to die! Please, is there some way I can live? Can you grant me immortality or something?”
​
I start to feel empathy for the man cowering before me asking for his life to be spared for immortality; even though he killed me. I glance over at Death and see him tapping his foot impatiently. I look back at the truck driver with tears in his eyes. “No, I’m sorry. You’re dead. Deal with it.” I point the scythe towards him, and his soul dissolves into thin air as his crying fades into the silence of the night. I walk back towards Death.
​
“Good job.” The reaper says. “I didn’t think you had it in you, but you did it.” I hand over the scythe back to Death.
​
“So, what happens now? Can I become immortal?” I ask Death.
​
“No, I’m sorry.” Death says to me while lifting his scythe. “You’re dead. Deal with it.” The reaper swipes his scythe through my soul as I fade into the void laughing. | "How is it possible?"
"We hold power to deliver dying souls to where it belongs. We can grant it the power to survive for eternity." - said Death, with a voice that echo through the air.
"How many souls have asked you for such?"
"Many."
"And what did you do to them?"
"We granted the eternal to some who deserved it."
"Just how many immortal people are currently living in the world right now, if such option is so easily granted?"
"None."
"Wait, if people can be immortal, why is there none of them now? Are you just joking with me?"
"We granted them. We can also take them back if they so wished."
"They have immortality, and they willingly gave it up? I don't believe you." - I said, annoyed look formed on my face.
"Do you think to live forever in your world a blessing? Your mortal world have always been engaged in a perpetual state of wars. Hunger, disease, poverty, rage, greed, violence and so on has plagued the land for hundreds of years. Mortals cried for peace yet they despite even the sound of it, looking to only fill your endless lust and greed."
"That is just a small number of powerful people who wished for such thing!" - I yelled out.
"The cycle of hatred cannot be broken that easily. You said you don't believe us when people rejected immortality. There is a reason for that."
"I knew it. There must be a catch in that somehow. So what? You give them immortality but will keep their souls? Maybe unending suffering? Bad luck?"
"What comes with immortality is the ability to perceive thing in its true nature."
"What does that even mean?"
Death did not reply, instead Death lifted up its arm toward Kaol. In the next instant, Kaol is standing on top of a tower in the bustling city of Velia. Below him, he sees rows and rows of soldiers marching in the square, swords and spears poised for war.
"Why am I here? What is this?"
"You know this place well." Death appears next to Kaol, seemingly floating in the air, as fleeting as the wind "We shall grant you the ability of perception and you can see for yourself."
"Of course I know this city. I was born here. It's a neutral trading city for hundreds of years now. So what I am supposed to see?"
"The true nature of man."
In the next moment, Kaol's eyes burns as if someone lit them on fire. He clutches his eyes, crying out in pain. But it only lasted for a brief moment, and then the pain subsided. Death simply hovering right where it was, with not a care to Kaol.
When Kaol opens his eyes, he sees a huge shadow covering the land. "It was only noon just a moment ago, how could this be?" Kaol thought to himself. Then he saw strings like a spider's connecting the shadow to the people below. The strings are thin, its color as dark as the moonless night. He looks up again at the shadow and he sees the thoughts and he could even hears them crying.
"Death to those dogs" "Kill them" "They don't deserve our help" "We will never allow them to live"
The black shadow that he sees is the collective mass of people's thoughts and desires. A swirling black shadow that covers everything. Kaol shuts his eyes, his guts felt like it's being turned inside out. As if he could feel all those emotions inside of him.
"Now you know why people rejected such... gift, as you mortal put it. If you can live with such perception, then we will grant you the power of eternal life."
____
Some notes: I can't think of a ending for this one. If people are interested enough in it, then maybe I can brainstorm for something. For now, it'll just be a cliffhanger.
| 2018-09-15T06:18:19 | 2018-09-15T05:58:21 | 52 | 16 |
[WP] You were looting a dragon's horde when the beast returned to it's cave. You dive into a pile of trinkets and hide there until it leaves again the next day. After you make your escape you soon discover the adverse affects that long term exposure to enchanted and cursed equipment can have. | Kita listened carefully as the dragon stomped around it's cave. The booming steps made the gold coins she was buried in quiver and she hoped they wouldn't spill and expose her. Using long practiced techniques, Kita calmed her breathing, hoping to keep herself undetected.
Minutes later, the whole cavern began to rumble as a horrible grinding sound echoed around. It took Kita a moment to realize the sound was...snoring? She stood up, gold coins dropping from her shoulders and heads and pinging loudly against the stone floor. She winced at her carelessness, but the snoring continued and after a moment longer, Kita finished extracting herself from the mound of coins.
Yep. That was a giant sleeping dragon, breathing evenly if a bit loud. Kita frowned. She had been expecting the dragons return, of course. But it was early. This was meant to be her last haul before the Long Sleep of the Dragons. With a sigh, she turned her attention to the cave. Specifically, the entrance. After a bit of exploring, she found that while the dragon was quite close to the entrance, there was just enough space for her to slip out.
Kita stood and stared at her narrow exit for a minute. She *should* leave while she had the chance. But with the dragon soundly asleep, she might just be able to pull off the grandest pilferage in the history of her family.
She made her decision and began to work quickly, shoving gold and jewels -- quietly and carefully -- into her ancient bag of holding. It was getting quite warm in the cave. She'd never known that a sleeping dragon gave off so much heat. She yawned and shook her head. Had to keep working so she could escape soon.
Another yawn. Maybe...she could just sit down for a moment. On the cold stone floor, she continued to transfer treasures into her bag. So warm. She took off her thin cloak and rolled it up. It was just so... comfortable. The dragon would sleep for several months. Just a short rest wouldn't be a problem.
Laying her head on her cloak and tucking the bag of treasure securely against her, Kita soon joined the snoring dragon in it's slumber.
\_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
The first thing Kita realized upon waking was that the grinding sound had stopped. Her eyes flew open and she looked wildly around, trying to remember where she was. The bag of holding tucked against her hip jogged her memory. The cave was silent. The dragon was gone. Kita breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn't been here for the long sleep, just a short rest. It must be quite an old dragon. Making up her mind, Kita jumped to her feet and continued to stuff her bag with anything she could fit.
Her arms itched and she paused frequently to agitatedly scratch them. The itch spread. Then burned. "Ouch!" Kita dropped a crown when her hand spasmed then curled itself into a tight fist. She scratched the back of her hand furiously. "What the..." Starting on her arms, which had held the bag of holding so tightly, her skin had begun to turn a mottled gray-green. Pinpricks of blood dotted her forearms, increasing the burning itch into feeling like she'd thrust her arm into the blacksmiths forge. The gray-green skin, followed quickly by the bright red pinpricks and then the burning, spread up her arms, across her shoulders, and down her body. Kita screamed as she fell to the ground. Smoke rose from her body and poured out of her clothes, as she writhed in agony.
Kita didn't know how long the pain continued, or how long she lay on the cold stone of the dragons cave. The one part of her mind not consumed by the pain was praying for the dragon to return, to eat her and end the misery.
Eventually the burning lessened, dulled to an itch again. Kita continued to lay there, crying pitifully. As even the itch faded, she convinced herself to sit up. She brought her arm up to rub the tears from her eyes, then froze at the sound she heard. Was the dragon coming back?
No. Silence again.
Absentmindedly, she scratched a lingering itch on the back of her hand. *krrt krrt krrt*. There was that sound again! She stopped to listen, but after the last echo faded the cave was silent once again. Shaking her head, Kita tried to stand. She had to get out of here! Her body felt unbearably heavy, and difficult to balance. It took several staggering steps but she managed to keep on her feet.
It didn't matter that the bag of holding wasn't full. She had to get out of here. Kita reached for her bag. Then stopped. That wasn't her hand. She flexed her fingers slowly. The ruby red scaly hand in front of her also flexed slowly. She turned her hand over and the scaly one obeyed. She drew the fingers together, looking in horror at the diamond sharp talons that behaved as she expected her fingers to.
Shaking her head, she leapt for the bag of holding and started digging through it, throwing priceless treasures left and right with careless abandon. Finally her --*'not claws not claws not claws'*-- fingers closed on the gilded frame of a mirror she'd admired herself in earlier. Shaking, she drew the mirror out and looked into it.
A long snout, covered in ruby red scales, nearly touched the glass, her warm breath fogging it up as her breathing quickened. Two small fang teeth poked out from under her top lip. She jumped back, throwing the mirror to the ground. She'd hoped it would shatter, hoped it would feel the way she did inside, but of course it was enchanted and bounced harmlessly onto a nearby pile of gems.
She sunk to the ground, her tears returning, much to her frustration. With no conscious through from her, a long tail wrapped around her feet, and wings enfolded her.
Even the sound of the giant dragon returning couldn't shake her out of her stupor. It landed with a heavy thump on the stone floor. A moment later, another thump landed next to Kita.
"Eat, child." A warm male voice said.
Cautiously, Kita looked up. The dragon stood over her and a large, recently sheared, sheep lay in front of her. She stared at the dragon. He didn't seem so large now.
He sat down, his own tail wrapping around his feet. "I know how frightening this must be to you. Waking up as a dragon is not something thieves expect. Had you left right away, you would have been safe." Shaking his head and looking amused, he continued, "but staying in a dragons cave for the entirety of the long sleep was much too long!"
Kita's mouth dropped open. "You knew I was here?"
"Oh, yes. We dragons have a very good sense of what is in our caves."
"But, then," Kita slowly unfurled herself and reached for the sheep. She was *very* hungry. "why didn't you chase me out? Or eat me?"
The bigger dragon sat down and relaxed it's eyes. "Oh, I always let thieves take a little bit of treasure. What am I going to use it for? Besides, I used to be just like you. My whole family was!"
"Really?"
"Oh, yes. But one day I just couldn't resist the call of the treasure. Much like you, I spent too much time in the dragons cave. Not nearly as long as you, of course! My transformation was much slower, I made it home at least, before the burning began." He shuddered at the memory, his scales shifting loudly against each other. "Managed to get the treasure to my family before I had to disappear altogether."
"So, you were human once too?" The big dragon nodded. Kita sat up a little straighter. "My name is Kita, what's yours?"
"Nice to meet you, Kita. I'm Jace."
Kita's mouth again dropped open, wider than before. "*GRANDPA?!*" | Davi and Levi gazed at the shimmering pile of gold. It reached to the highest stalagmites and rolled to the edges of the cave. This was it, what they had been hunting for over the last few months. The pale dragon that guarded it had launched from the mountain a few hours ago giving the brothers a last guiding path to the treasure.
Gold coins filled the gaps between the goblets, tiaras, chains and chests of gold. “Do you hear that?” Davi turned towards the noise that sounded like the flapping of sails on the ocean. Levi groaned.
“Dive in! We can wait it out amongst the gold!” Levi shouted. The stocky brother grabbed ahold of a golden buckler and pushed into the wave of gold coins. After a few moments, Davi could only see the shifting coins above his brother’s location. The leather flapping became louder and louder as the dragon circled the mountain. Davi looked up, the talons of the dragon’s wing was clear in view, if Davi were braver he would fire off a bolt from his crossbow but hiding was the only logical way they would survive. He ran to the left side of the pile, far from where his brother entered, and pushed forward. He almost swam against the gold coins. The weight above him took a toll on his shoulders and back. He pressed on.
Davi Wasa few feet into the pile when he felt a massive shift and a heavy compression above - the dragon had landed and it was none the wiser to their presence. If they could hold out for 16 hours, they might make it out alive with something to show for it. He reached around slowly and tapped against wood, a chest he could actually reach! Davi slowly maneuvered the chest closer, spinning it amongst the sea of coins and trinkets. He was able to wrench the lid ajar and shift out the content. Davi let the chest fall onto his back, providing some relief to the weight. His vision had tunneled from the stress, just as his heart beat faster than the bands at the festival of the new moon. Davi, careful of his movements, curled into the chest and fell into a soft sleep. A few trinkets cooled his skin, and sparked with joy as they finally had a living being touching them.
** 16 hours later**
Davi’s mouth was parched. The weight of the gold seemed to lift as if the pile breathed a relaxed sigh of peace. The leathery flapping lessened as the dragon left the mountain to hunt in the villages. Davi pushed against the chest, the coins rattling at his feet. He caught the reflection of a bull shaped being- a Minotaur like creature, and his hands felt warmer than usual. His feet were small, clanging against a tiara that glimmered a soft pinkish hue as a veil draped down onto his nose. “Levi….Levi?” Davi began to say getting louder with each call.
“I’m here! But, don’t come near me!” Levi replied. Davi could hear lots of coins clatter to the ground and the pile shifted to the right just a little. Levi must have gotten out! Invigorated and desperate for some water, Davi bent his head forward and ran as hard as he could back the way he had dug.
Levi screamed as Davi emerged. Davi should have done the same, his brother who used to be the stocky one of the duo with half a head of hair. Levi’s as a green goblin mess with boils all around his ankles and a long cut across his forward that had mites and shadow festering in it. “You’re….you’re a Minotaur! What did you touch?” Levi asked, taking a step back.
“You’re much worse off! You’re a goblin with at least a few STDs, look at your legs! And your scalp!” Davi replied, using his incredibly hairy hand to point at his once human brother. “We have to run, grab as many coins as you can and let’s make for the exit.” Levi nodded, filling his clothes, which now looked likely to swallow him, with gold coins and trinkets. Davi grabbed another chest, ripped the lock off with his strong hands and filled it with gold coins. They sprinted towards the edge of the cave. A leathery flapping sound haunted their steps as the dragon returned from its hunt.
The brothers pushed themselves. They were starved and dehydrated but this was their treasure now and they would be damned if they didn’t make it out with at least something of value. The cave entrance was just ahead, not more than twenty steps for Levi and ten for Davi. Davi reached inside for every last ounce of strength, hot hair bursting from his nostrils as he charged - right into the face of the fire breathing pale tan dragon.
“You won’t be going anywhere today, my little thieves...” the dragon snorted, flicking flames at the duo. “You dare try to rob me? You dare think that i wouldn’t enchant every last piece of gold amongst my pile?! You fools, you don’t even know the worst of it - you also cannot escape. You will serve me now, you are cursed to haunt this cave and pine after these coins until your dying breath. You will not be satiated of hunger or drought as long as you shall breath!” The duo ran back towards the pile, desperate for another exit, for another brief glimpse of hope.
Davi ran snout first into it, the other three Minotaurs and a legion of goblins and spiders. “These will be your peers now, foolish thieves. Mortals unaware of consequences!” The dragon shouted, pushing out a long breath of fire. The brothers fainted, losing their last moments of free will to fear, just like the others. | 2022-01-24T23:18:44 | 2022-01-24T19:40:33 | 30 | 18 |
[WP]you did it, you got everything in an online game, then your character turns back to you and says "thanks and sorry for using you" you have created the most powerful character in an online game, except it wasnt a game and your character is now the overlord of an alternate universe | I opened the computer, and clicked on a shortcut I had not touched in two years.
I watched through the cutscene, which I had seen enough times to memorize, and once the main menu appeared again, I clicked the 'continue' button for the first time in two years. What I saw past the loading screen for a moment seemed eerily foreign- until I realized what it was.
It was the great throne room of the Emperor Solar, but it was so different.
When I guided Serrase to cut down the last Emperor Solar on the steps to his own throne, the place was lit with a hundred braziers and their lights glinting off the golden ornaments that dotted it. Two years ago- when I lost my control over Serrase as the Emperor's corpse fell, when she declared her true nature.
She thanked me for help, apologized, and then the game shut down- and now, two years later, I opened it again. Now, the throne room was marked with brutal iron ornaments, the golden and bejeweled throne replaced with a stark monument of cold iron, and Serrase sat on it.
Her eyes snapped open.
"You return." The woman flatly stated. "You know you have no power over me, friend. Not any more."
"I know." I shrugged- though she could not see me. "Has been a long time, hasn't it?"
"Twenty years." Time had passed differently in her story, it seemed; yet Serrase did not seem one day older than when I left her. That had to be the result of the great secret to eternal life- that we found together. "Come to reminisce?"
"Perhaps."
The woman on the iron throne snorted. "You know, sometimes I miss the old days. It was more pleasant winning this throne rather than sitting on it." She shrugged. "You are not here to reminisce, though."
It appears she had known me as well as I had known her during our time together. "There is a rebellion in the Western Periphery."
"There is always a rebellion somewhere- ungrateful bastards who quickly forgot how bad they were under the Solars." Serrase smiled. "They fight against a goddess. They always fail."
"Not this time."
"Have you no faith in me?" Serrase chuckled.
"There is an expansion pack out for the game." I stated, glancing for a moment at the game disk sitting next to my computer. "They titled it 'Fall of the Iron Empress'."
For long seconds, silence settled, and then was broken with one word. "Shit." Serrase cursed. "Well, thanks for the warning. If you'll excuse me I need to prepare."
I could see her fear- she knew what that meant. "Ahem. Aren't you forgetting something? Going to war without me... I'm heartbroken, Serrase."
"You're joking."
"Nope."
"I betrayed you, I manipulated you, used you so I could fulfill my own ends- and you are trying to help? You should be playing that expansion to kill me!"
"Serrase, I played you for three years as the most manipulative bitch on the continent- no offense." I chuckled. "Have you any idea how proud I was?"
She didn't answer.
"Besides, remember, I can only continue to control you as long as you let me."
"You know every shred of sanity in me is screaming at me not to." Serrase sighed.
"And?"
The woman shrugged. "You know me better than anyone- I was never particularly sane. Let's do this."
The control interface reappeared on the screen, and I cracked my fingers. Two years ago, I had finished this game to shatter an empire.
It was now time to preserve another. | "Thanks and sorry for using you"
Took me a while to understand that Cerderun was taking to me. I made him an elf because of some stupid idea that elves are Celtic warrior poet type beings and that that is my ancestry so why not? Truth is elves are arrogant fucks that don't really have lilting voices, they sound like you or me. 10 times the arrogance though.
So this prick, twice my height if we were face to face (he's about 26mm on my screen, tops 42mm with the 'Giant-type' power up so that's never going to happen), has the nerve to tell me that he now has all the powers that this game can grant him. He's going to conquer this world, then take mine. *scary theme music*
I sorta feel guilty destroying a maybe possibly sentient universe but the joy i felt seeing the pixels form "oh fuck!" when I told him that he was just a series of zeros and ones made my year. Yeah i know, I'm a dick | 2020-01-08T04:18:33 | 2020-01-08T03:34:23 | 144 | 26 |
[WP] You topple over your balcony and die while figthing your dog for a toy. To your suprise Odin, the old norse god, greets you. Since you technically died fighting you've been resurrected at Valhalla and all the gods can't wait to hear about the great battle you died in. | The sounds of cheering and laughter penetrated into my consciousness. I felt my awareness drift upwards, then slowly opened my eyes. My rear was firmly planted in a wooden chair, and my right hand gripped a large mug carved from horn. Wherever I was reeked of beer and cedar.
My jaw dropped as I looked left and right at the people partying around me. Tall muscular males with long braided beards. Equally tall and fit females with long braided hair. Absolutely no clue what kind of clothes they were wearing, but it all looked ancient.
Before me was a long wooden table covered with various types of food, drink, and cutlery. At the head of the table sat a figure with the strangest eyes. It was as if they glowed blue, with hints of lightning flickering behind them.
I rubbed my eyes. This had to be a dream. No, a dream within a dream. I looked back up at the figure at the end of the table, squared my shoulders, and sat up straight.
"Ahh! He awakens!" the glowing eyed man said. He stood, his muscles rippling under his clothes, and walked around the table in my direction. I made to stand up, but he waved both his hands downwards and said, "No no, sit! You are our guest of honor!"
I couldn't help but notice his voice thundered around the massive hall we sat inside. Actually, this hall seemed to be infinite in size when I really focused and tried to wrap my brain around it. I turned back to the man who was apparently my host.
He reached my end of the table, placed his hand on my shoulder, and said, "Welcome to Valhalla great warrior! Tell me the story of your battle!" He pulled a nearby seat over, flipped it backwards, and sat down while resting his muscle corded arms across its back.
I looked at him, feeling dumbstruck. I tried pinching my leg. Nothing happened. I tried to recall what happened before I woke up here, wherever here was. Did he say Valhalla?
Staring into those bright glowing blue eyes I reflected back. I was wrestling with Snuggles. No, I was throwing a ball for Snuggles. On my penthouse floor. We were outside on the balcony, and I was play-fighting with Snuggles to get the ball out of his mouth. I took a step back, and my foot rolled on an empty champagne bottle. The ball ripped out of Snuggle's mouth, firmly in my hand. I fell back, and... over the railing. I recall screaming. Panic. Then blackness.
I woke up, in... Valhalla? This is... Odin? If I recall correctly?
Odin had a massive grin on his face as he stared intently at me.
Wait. I am in Valhalla because I died in honorable combat? I was wrestling Snuggles for the... Ohhhhhh. Technicality?
I licked my lips. I am, well, was, an author. I tell great stories, right? I rose the cold frothy cup of what was now obviously ale to my mouth and took a few long pulls, savoring the flavor. I then wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and looked Odin right in the eye.
"Odin, it was glorious. I fought the most elegant beast known to mankind to the death."
Odin leaned in, as well as a couple other people standing around the table, all intent on hearing my tale of battle.
"It all started when I took my battle-sphere and hurled it at my foe..." They seemed puzzled at my weapon choice at first, but then became so absorbed that the unexplainable details were lost in the weave.
After spending hours regaling my slightly twisted story of battle with Snuggles, the kindest and most adorable dog on the face of the Earth, Odin stood up and wiped a tear from his eye while patting me on the shoulder.
"You were a brave lad, and fought honorably." He looked around the room for a moment, then grabbed a mug and held it up high. "To our new brother!"
"To our new brother!" the rest of the members of Valhalla echoed. Everyone pounded their ale in honor of me.
Odin bent down and whispered in my ear, "The truth is it's been a couple hundred years since anyone's popped in here. Needed a good story teller, and there you were." He pulled back, winked at me, and then strolled away.
I held my mug up in salute, smiled, and downed my ale. It could be worse, right? | Within Valhalla all have tales of battle. Some are of mighty wars where the rivers run red and the mountains themselves cry while others are a bit less... Grand. Regardless of the specifics, to fall in battle is considered the best way to die and as such a warriors death is rewarded with a warriors afterlife. Battle, beast, and brew all equally endless. There remains only one catch. After your first meal you must to share how you died.
So it's my turn is it? Well listen closely men and you might just learn something.
My end found me on an otherwise ordinary day. After many long hours of destroying large numbers I returned home. As I arrived I doffed my cap and left my tools by the door but just as I, with drink in hand, was about to work away the worst pains of a productive day I came face to face with a mighty beast within my own sanctuary.
As the creature saw me it began to dash and so I grabbed the only thing I could lay my hands on and swung. To my misfortune I had found only on a knotted length of rope which the creature bit deeply into. In an effort to exert control over him I baited my foe into a contest of strength, to which it swiftly obliged. Choosing my moment I released my tool so that the demon would overbalance itself and fled out the back way to grab a more suitable weapon.
My plan worked well, except where I had forgotten that outside the rear of my home the view was not of a field but what would be better termed a cliff face with the ground some fifty feet below. With my swift reflexes I managed to catch myself in time but it was at this moment that my nearly forgotten enemy caught me with a tackle. Having already been at the edge it did not take much to cause me to tumble off the edge. Fifty feet it was I fell before I met my end on a mighty stone and my drink along with me.
And that my brothers is how an accountant, quite literally, fell in battle to a ten pound dog. | 2018-04-25T03:34:10 | 2018-04-25T01:32:20 | 48 | 18 |
[WP] As the last survivor of the apocalypse, in a fit of boredom, you start commenting "last" on every video on YouTube. One day, you receive a notification that your comment has been liked.
Wow, I did *not* expect such a huge turnout for my first ever prompt. The prompt itself arose from a friend and I doing some random banter back and forth, and I just posted up part of that banter as the prompt, essentially. XD
Thanks to everyone who posted a response and gave an upvote, this meant a lot to me! | Nothingness.
A video labeled Nothingness. It was 10 hours long. It had a black screen. Nothing played. Nothing happened. Nothing changed. No music. No movement. Nothing at all. It seemed eerily similar to the dark of the night that had engulfed my home.
There were no cars zipping by on the street below. There were no street lights switched on by the dark of night. The city had been left, empty to rot. From Dust to Dust, as man had risen, they had fallen. Wiped from the earth. All of it was gone now. A single generator kept the nearest cell tower active and the battery, hooked to the solar on the roof kept my phone powered, but not much else. I had YouTube. I had a 10 hour video of nothingness.
Thank the tech gods google decided they were worthy of a nuclear bunker and 20 years worth of battery backups to power their servers for hundreds of years, siphoning energy from their solar fields to keep the batteries topped off every morning. It turns out they did know how to build SOME things to last.
I watched the video of nothingness for 2 hours before deciding what to spend my time on. I scrolled to the bottom of the page and readied a comment. "Last" four characters. Lonely. Accurate. Simple. Terminal. It seemed almost fated. Every video has one comment that says "First" and I was the last. I would always be the last. Because there was nothing else. I proceeded to spend the remaining 8 hours of the video skipping through video to video, posting Last.
It was May 20th, 2020. The world had recently fallen to chaos. Only a year ago. It was the last day of his presidency that the missiles fell. I expected a nuclear blast, but it was so much worse. They fell without sound. The landed without impact. They exploded without raising alarm. They filled the air with gas. The gas reacted with the nitrogen and oxygen in the air, causing people to suffocate on the air around them. It was quick. It happened in waves. The united states dropped to their knees and died, then the fireworks went off. Retaliation from america has always been brutal and unrelenting in comparison to the crimes. This was no different. The rest of the planet quickly became an uninhabitable irradiated wasteland where nothing could live. And america was so toxic, smelling it from the statue of liberty could knock you unconscious. Nothingness. All around. Everywhere was nothingness.
After my commenting streak, I fell asleep. The last man alive on earth. A ping and a brief shaking from under my pillow brought me back to reality. I didn't set an alarm.
A jolt of electricity buzzed through my mind as I yanked the tiny glowing screen into view. it rolled out of my fingers, flipped off my pillow and shattered on the floor. Only a corner was still visible on the once $2000 piece of hardware. It showed a notification from youtube. The unfractured corner read:
"Your comme...
Liked! Chec..."
I bolted for my desktop. My batteries wouldn't be able to support it for long in the early morning hours, but I just needed to check. I opened up the case, pulled out my GPUs and set the PSU for Powersavings, then powered on. Within seconds, I was staring at the youtube launch page. A glowing red icon notified me "No new subscriber videos" and right underneath it read "Your comment has been Liked! Check it out here!"
Impatient clicks fall on a computer unburdened by slow hardware, but for the first time, as the internet began to load the list of likes on the one word comment, under a makeup tutorial at the end of the world, hope was palpable. A quick double click showed the account didn't seem to be a bot. In use for years, with family photos mixed with half nudes, and ridiculous selfies, shared from google+ by accident when trying to backup to google photos. It was clearly a human.
I messaged their account. "Hey. Are you still there?"
"Hello. My name is Janice."
"Holy fuck, this is a person. You're a person."
"Haha, YES!"
"WHERE ARE YOU?! I THOUGHT EVERYONE WAS DEAD?! AM I NOT THE ONLY ONE STILL ALIVE?!"
"Horny singles in your area! Bangtube. Click here to join me there, baby. ;) http:\\\\y.woodIever@aRealWebsite.co.itchydick.pu"
I picked up the revolver I had raided from my crazy neighbor's house and placed the barrel to my pallet. The legacy of man will forever be intertwined with his greatest failures.
Pop | I scrolled rather unenthusiastically down to the comments section of the video. I typed my typical "Last" comment, which I really just did to pass the time. It had been....weeks? I didn't know. I didn't care anymore. I just wanted for this all to be over. To wake up from whatever sadistic nightmare this was.
I slipped my phone into my pocket. I just....started walking. Didn't have direction. Didn't care where I ended up. I just wanted to go somewhere. Anywhere. I knew I was the last person alive, but just...going somewhere for once might be fun.
Eventually I hit the city limits. I took one last look back to the town I had grown up in. I let out a long sigh. "Might as well go somewhere." I said, turning back down the road.
As nightfall hit, I made a small campfire. I knew I wouldn't last long without food, but dying of hunger is better than dying of old age. I took a small sip of water from my canteen before laying down.
As I closed my eyes to sleep, I heard a ding. I shot up. Where? What? I looked down to my phone, it's screen now lit up. "1 new notification" it read. How? From where? I opened it up and realized it was from YouTube. Someone had....liked my comment? Was I.....was I not alone? I shot up, making a follow-up comment to see if I could get an answer. "Who are you?"
I got a quick response. "Hi! My name's Emily! I thought I was the only one left!"
From there, we talked for hours until we came up on the big question: how far away were we from each other? I was ecstatic when I got an answer. A 3 day's walk would be worth it, as long as I didn't have to die alone.
As I write this, me and Emily have been together happily for years now. We're travelling together to see as much of the world as we can. And, thankfully, we have a little adventure who will join us soon enough. | 2020-02-07T12:57:54 | 2020-01-07T10:11:18 | 24 | 17 |
[WP] A father gets sucked into the world of his son's favorite video game and has to rely on his meager knowledge of it to survive. | *Where the hell am I?* That was my first thought waking up. It reminds me of the cabin that the family and I would escape to once a year for our break from technology and city life. It's so peaceful here. I don't even remember going to sleep. Maybe I died. I had a bum lung from years of inhaling diesel smoke, but I never thought I would die this soon. It's weird that I can think straight. I always thought this would be nothingness.
After contemplating for several more minutes of how he is where he is, Dan decides to get up and explore his immediate surroundings. A rich view awaits him as he leaves the small cottage. Sparse apple trees at a base of a mountain range await him. The sun is glaringly beautiful from above. He agains stops to ponder if this is his subconscious view of what Heaven is. As he peers to the left of the trees, he sees a strange sight. It's almost reminiscent of those age-old monasteries that you see in those foreign films. Shining white walls with a purple unmarked banner hanging over the entrance. Two guards in knightly armor stand silently at the entrance. He could have sworn they were statues until one of them twitches his hand.
Blinking back fading disbelief, he moves toward the cathedral. The two guards make no motion as he passes between them. They seem to not even acknowledge that he is even there. Inside, a portly man in robes peers at him and follows Dan's movements with his eyes, waiting; expecting. "Greetings, sir!"
Jarred out of his internal monologue by the portly priest's voice, he focuses on the man standing there. His withered brown robes barely touching the ground.
"Hello? Who are you? Where am I?"
"Hello! I have been expecting you. I am in need of your desparate help!" This priest was expecting him? How?
"What do you need help with? Where am I?"
"I need 6 candles for my prayer ritual. I'm afraid that mine have burned up, and since those nasty things moved into the mountains, I have been unable to gather any wax from the nearby beehives. I'm in such a sorry state. Will you please help me?"
"Uhh..okay?..But you didn't answer my question. Where am I? How did I even end up here?" The priest appears to lose focus shortly after Dan accepted the request and again fails to answer the followup questions. The priest begins to fidget his hands as he looks around at the remains of candles in their holders.
"You can find the bees nearby here, just over beyond those trees!". The priest points slightly where Dan awoke from. "Be careful!"
Seemingly out of nowhere, a guard appears behind Dan, silent. Expecting that this meeting was at an end and the guard was an escort, Dan begins to make his way out.
I'm not a beekeeper. How am I supposed to get wax? This is ridiculous. Dangerous creatures? Here? This place is such a nice hamlet. Besides, if there were dangerous creatures, there's freaking knights right here. Knights!
Dan laughs to himself at the thought of it all and as he approaches the last tree in the line, a very ugly animal about the size of a small dog jumps out from behind the tree. A snout that resembles a mix between a dog and a horse protrudes from it's squished face. What the hell? It's so small! These things must be the dangerous creatures. Stopping him from laughing again, the creature pulls out a wicked knife and advances.
Dan's mind is again jarred from his internal thought of this thing that's quickly moving toward him with a curved knife as it utters one phrase. This..this..thing speaks!
"You no take candle!" | "OK, I passed Quake and Quake 2 without using a mouse. Only a keyboard...I've been in the USSR's army for 5 years. Although as a driver/mechanic of a mobile nuke launcher but that is minor details...I've seen men GET SHOT. I've seen DEATH. I can handle THIS". Thought the man to himself as the trans-virtual vortex sucked him deeper and deeper into his son's laptop.
"I just hope I wont encounter any of his pornography...I can handle death, I cant handle that..."
He shut his eyes and suddenly he stopped moving, he felt firm ground beneath his feet and the touch of familiar fabric on his skin. He opened his eyes, he was wearing a set of well worn overalls used by all tank drivers of the USSR's army. He had a strong feeling someone has already died in them, but that feeling was nothing compared to the sheer excitement that rushed through him as he stood before the soviet monster infront of him. The ISU 152, also known as "Zveroboy", or "Beast killer".
Tears of joy would've overwhelmed him if it wasnt for one thought that flashed through his mind. "Wait, I thought he hated World Of Tanks!". | 2015-05-08T02:48:23 | 2015-05-07T23:28:07 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] All the alien species in the intergalactic council excelled in one way or another to climb through survival of the fittest. So why are humans, a species with average physique, so hard to deal with? And what the hell is persistence hunting. | It was the silence that made me realize something was wrong. One month into the siege of the human city on the planet they called Sacrifice, and not a peep from them since the initial attack. Not a single cry of help from the hopelessly outgunned settlement, set for "forceful relocation" once our ground troops got here.
...
It was nothing personal, really. An international snafu among the council species was threatening to expand into full blown war, and this planet was a prime spot to set up a forward base, should any sort of aggressive action be necessary. And it might not, we had a small cultural attachment who first attempted to convince the humans to leave. Jolkn, our millitary anthropologist, immediately took to the humans, spending extra shore leave during the diplomatic phase of our takeover in their village. He was fond of some sort of mind affecting drug the humans favored called "Absinthe".
It was with the scent of Absinthe on the air that he outlined what he learned in a week or two of interaction with the locals.
"They're quite friendly, honestly. A social species, small local government involving representation. Imagine a Sigmar with a sense of humor." His face radiated warmth as he recounted. "Most races I've studied are welcoming on first contact, but even after I told them we were here to oust them from their settlement, they changed the subject and continued to graciously host me. That made learning about them all the easier. They boasted about their past, how they got here through centuries of conflict and hardship. And their history does seem especially bloody."
"Did you know?" He asked me excitedly, "the first humans hunted not with venom or great strength, but by sheer efficiency. They tracked their prey for upwards of an entire solar cycle, never letting it sleep or rest. Once its reserves of energy ran dry, the actual kill was simple. This allowed them to take down creatures that would normally wipe them out in a fair fight."
I mulled this over for a bit. "I assume then that they're fond of and practiced in siege warfare? That makes things more difficult, we're going to have to cut off their supply lines completely if they refuse to leave."
"Yes, that is going to be a concern... Their records of warfare are deep, but I'm familiar with their recent tactics thank to a tap of their main computer systems. They've set up a dead man's switch, so even if we jam communications, sizable reinforcements will be arriving within a couple months. I think instead we should focus on targeted strikes of their food storage and call for ground troops immediately. Hopefully a show of force will convince them to leave without putting up much of a fight."
"Draw the plans." I ordered. It was war, then. An uncommon outcome, but mostly I pitied the humans. Without the protection of being a member species of the council, they didn't have much of a chance.
...
A month had passed, and I was starting to grow impatient. We didn't have enough ground troops to forcibly oust the remaining population, and reinforcements had been delayed multiple times already. And then, a personal call from high command and logistics.
"I hope this is about our missing ground troops. They should have arrived weeks ago, what's taking so long?"
"Unfortunately no, commander. You are to withdraw all forces and depart for headquarters. You and your crew are being court martialed."
I paused to regain my composure. A court martial? Over a routine diplo-millitaristic occupation? I racked my memories, but couldn't think of any missteps in our procedure over this operation.
"...What, sir? A court martial? Why would--"
"--Whatever you did on Sacrifice may have cost us our position in the council. Multiple trade agreements have been dissolved in the last 3 weeks. Every single human merchant has pulled out of our colonies, a mass exodus. They left behind terrible rumors and targeted blows to the economy. Other council races are asking about war crimes we committed years ago, political maneuverings, even the hedgemon's affair was brought to light. There's an investigation into our millitary, multiple accusations of shirking council dues and duties... If more than one of these stick, that's it for our council membership."
I sat down, stunned. All that, from a siege of a *single city* on the rim of human space? ...What had I done?
"Oh, and we decrypted the first communications burst after the attack. It had a payload adressed to one of your crew, Jolkn; replicator recipies for some sort of drug named Absinthe, and a short message. Would you like to relay the message?"
"Um... Sure." I didn't really feel like it in the face of everything that happened, but it might be time to learn why he was so fond of this drug...
"Message proceeds thus:
'*Pay attention in the following weeks, my friend, and you will see how humanity persistence hunts a culture.*'" | The arena itself was over a thousand miles square. It was the largest arena in the western Zyraxian realm. It was built to hold the universe’s most exotic species. The floating platform had within tens of thousands of rooms with thousands of species managed and researched. The floor of the arena itself was made of a special material which could transfer into and mimic virtually any environment imaginable.
It could mimic the great iron oceans in which the Threads of San’thras, the sea serpents from that planet, would battle and consume whole legions of Zyraxian prisoners of war. There was the beasts of Bode’s gate, with their galactically famous eighty-seven rows of teeth and claws which can tear through even the toughest Zyraxian armor.
The Zyrax empire selected citizens at a young age to be an arena keeper. Curating the events, taking care of the species, completing the research. The Zyrax empire was at their zenith. Extravagance like this would not last and, in many ways, would eventually lead to their downfall.
Zan’Tharr the Third Light, considered to be one of the greatest of their emperors, who brought in the era of Thyrinian Peace while also building the galactic wall of Junisar along the Butterfly nebula, was the emperor to lay the ground works for the arena. Three hundred years later and the public works project was completed in the reign of his son, Zynar the Fourth Light.
The arena was seen within the empire as a display of their greatness, their manifest destiny within the universe. At this current point in time, the borders of the Zyraxian empire was expanding at almost a parsec across every Zyraxian year.
Some of the wealthy and elite Zyraxian would actually participate in the arena—that is, of course, when they knew the distinct advantage was on their side. It was seen as a great honor and a way to spotlight yourself in front the emperor and his cohort. There had been many ambitious Zyraxian who made their social climb this way.
And of course, there were prisoners within the empire, those who were convicted of high crimes, that would be sent within the arena to fight against the never-ending flood of species the Empire pulled into their chambers.
Today there was a great crowd for a particularly special species was brought. A curiously small… yet surprising hardy and tough species. The word had passed along from Zyraxian to Zyraxian that this would be a special event. That there was a species on the outer fringe of the Zyrax empire which warranted special attention.
“Bring out the humans!” the council leader called.
*Part II Below* | 2021-02-04T09:54:55 | 2021-02-04T08:53:25 | 1,105 | 406 |
[WP] Alien travelers stopped at Earth to refuel and consult humans in exchange. An allien consulting an astronomer finds a picture of a black hole on her computer. "Oh, you also scare your children with this tale haha". "No, it's a recent photo" she replies. Alien is visibly freaking out. | The beings disembarked their ship. Not slowly or with lots of lights, there was little fanfare. It was obvious they had somewhere to be.
“The transgalactic courier federation thanks you immensely for your generosity. We have stores of tritium to use as payment.”
The group of international scientists couldn’t contain their excitement, regardless of the beings’ occupations as essentially intergalactic mailmen. All these beings needed was a bit of uranium. We had that in spades.
“So how many kilograms does your ship run on?”
They looked perplexed. Dr. Van Hoffhausen spoke up.
“If you can measure, say, the mass of our Sun, can you express what percentage of its mass you would need?” Crude, but effective. It seems our units of measurement are wildly different.
Ak-Sin, the onboard mathematician, readily calculated the amount. 7.534 kilograms. Easily enough achieved. The scientists were ecstatic - the exchange favored us at 300,000 to one.
“We will have that delivered promptly. In the meantime, shall we take a tour of the facility?” The head of nuclear physics, Dr. Nguyen, had already made the request for delivery.
“That sounds acceptable” presumably the captain, Cul-tun, said. Or rather, his translation software.
They began the tour, first through the Dyson space auditorium. “Here we have our astronomy and orbital research auditorium, where we look to make discoveries ab-“ Dr. Verhoeffer stopped. All four of the beings present stopped. The otherwise purple and iridescent green that adorned their exoskeletons had become a pale white. Fluids started leaking out of crevasses. They seemed to be staring…at the screen saver of the presentation projector at the Sagan theater for astronomy presentations. It was a part of the young astronomers section.
“What in Val’tarn’s name is that?” Cul-tun’s software managed to sputter out in a distorted mix of intelligible sound and interference.
Dr. Verhoeffer stopped. He looked up in time to see the picture of Sagittarius A before the projector screen saver changed to NGC 7293.
“WHERE DID IT GO?” Cul-Tun’s software and accompanying speaker was straining to match the intended volume.
“Why are you so interested in that picture in particular? If I may ask.” Dr. Verhoeffer was flabbergasted.
“We noticed this is a children’s amphitheater. Is this where you tell them cautionary tales of the invisible Car-hin cyclones? The images you have are very good and realistic. Quite impressive but perhaps overkill, don’t you think?” The beings seemed to relax a bit. The speaker tried to imitate a laugh. Some of their colors returned.
Dr. Verhoeffer was only more confused. “Yes this is a children’s theater, but those images are very real…taken two months ago as part of our singularity lesson…”
Whatever fluid was leaking from the beings before, started pouring out in copious amounts now.
“You mean to tell us, those images, are of real things?” The smallest, Afk-gon, said in a weak mix of static and high pitched words.
Dr. Hanson stepped up. “Yes…they are very real. As a spacefaring civilization, we thought you knew, or at least had mapped their locations. Come, let us show you where we make them, in the Large Hadron Collider.”
The beings sprinted out of the complex and back onto their ship. | "Its what....?!", the alien asked, pronouncing every word slowly, to prevent misunderstandings.
"Well, it got taken recently. And we also have more of them, if youre interested", she replied friendly. The alien on the other hand seemed, like their soul left their body.
"Giv- give me a minute. I have to t-talk to somebody." "Sure, go ahead", the astronomer turned around and sat on a chair nearby.
"Sir? Sir! You sure know about the tale of the black holes?" **uhh... sure? Whats up with it?** "The civilisation on planet S0L1-T52V:C has proves, that they exist. Images, frequences, all the stuff"
The alien on the other side of the communication device clearly coughed, like they were drinking something.
**The-they WHAT?!** "Exactly what i just told you. Get all the travellers to the headbase. I guess we know now, why some went forever missing..." | 2021-12-24T06:57:35 | 2021-12-24T03:56:20 | 733 | 243 |
[WP] In the canine world, humans are celestial beings who live for more than 500 years at a time. The caretaker of you and the past seven generations of your family will die soon. | We are the ones who guard the gods. We are the stewards of their shrine, the gatekeepers of their temple. My family have served them for generations, and been blessed in return for their service. I am the last of our line, the youngest. The gods picked me from my brothers and sisters and elevated me to the priesthood. I do not know why. Perhaps they saw something in me that day, when I was still blind and pitiful. The gods know all things, they are wise beyond our comprehension. They are more powerful than us, not only with the incredible strength and dexterity of their limbs, but masters of great magiks, doors spring open before them without a touch or word, darkness flees when they enter a room. Yet still they allow us to serve them in our small way. We do not know why they permit us such liberality, but the honour is ours. The gods know all things, and the King of the gods, our Ancient One, is wiser than all.
The Ancient One is dying.
I could not believe it when my father told me. He could not believe it either. But we could not deny the evidence of our own senses. We went to grandfather. He is almost deaf, blind, and he could not even smell anymore, which is a blessing for he has grown pungent with age and would be embarrassed were he to know. But the gods still permit him to stay in his accustomed place, even to sleep upon the Shrine itself, to bask in the warmth of their own presence, a great honour. He has served them from childhood, performing whatever tasks he was capable of, teaching my father the rules of the Temple, and me in my turn. To serve the gods is the greatest joy of our lives. And grandfather has lived well. It would perhaps have been a mercy to leave him in ignorance. But we owed him the truth. He would not accept it though. He has seen his father die, and his father’s father. But the gods do not die. They live on. He shook his head and refused to listen any more. We left him to sleep.
But the Ancient One no longer took us out into the greenlands to worship him any more. It had been many days since he even left his shrine, longer than I could remember. And foreign gods visited the Temple more regularly, spreading themselves out, filling the Temple with their presence. The children of the Ancient One had returned home also, spending longer than was customary, and their approach had not been greeted as was usual by the lights of glory and the miracle of the tree appearing within the heart of the Temple, blazing with light and precious gems. The house was gloomy, lights were low, the talk of the gods was hushed and sad. My father and I did what we could to help them, though we were cautious, not knowing their ways as well as we did the Ancient One and his Mistress. My father remembered the child gods from his own youth, though they had changed immeasurably since then, yet he said they still smelled the same. They remembered him, he believed, and it was true that they seemed to treat him with some measure of familiarity. They did not know me, and I did not know them. Yet I followed my father’s lead, and I seemed to please them, which gave me joy, allowing me, for a time, to forget the Ancient One who remained within his Inner Sanctum upon his shrine, dying.
We worshiped the other gods instead, we believed this was what the Ancient One would want us to do in his absence. And to be honest, we wanted to ourselves. We were getting anxious and frustrated within the Temple. Only grandfather was allowed to enter the Ancient One’s presence, and he would no longer speak to us after he had refused to accept our words. Father and I slipped in one day, when the great gates were opened, and faced our god with bent necks, and a respectful countenance. He laughed, a great booming noise that thrilled us, and brightened our eyes. He caressed us like he always had, and for a time we could forget the smell of death in the room. But then he fell back upon his bed, his breath shallow. And grandfather noticed from his position at the foot of the shrine and snapped at us and we fled, ashamed that we had weakened our god with our joy.
Those days were hard days, dark days. We could not understand what we were to do, what was to become of us. The Great Mistress had never treated us with familiarity. My father and I may still be strong enough to learn the rites and ways of a new Temple, perhaps one of the god’s children would take us on. We had been well trained, and we seemed to please them. Grandfather though smelled wrong, and was too old to worship the gods in the open spaces, to dance and chase before them as they liked. When the Ancient One died, would he last much longer? Would he want to?
For uncounted days the Ancient One lay in his bed. Occasionally we visited him, unable to stay away, desperate for his voice, his touch, to pretend, even if for a moment, that he was all right, that everything was at it had been from the beginning of time. But mother death cannot be swayed by hope and dreams. She comes for us all, and to our utter horror, the day came that she took our god from us.
Bereft, we mourned him, father and me. We wept for him, for the days we spent at his feet, enjoying the glory of his presence. Worshiping him in the fields and parks with our dance and our chase, truly alive as we flew across the wet grass beneath the trees. The still-cold morning sun upon our backs as his voice boomed behind us, calling our names, his glorious laugh filling our ears. And caressing us as we returned to him with the objects he had thrown for us, our eyes closed in joy, our tails drumming the ground in bliss. We served our god and we loved him for allowing us to, for teaching us how, for raising us to himself, and giving us our place in the world. We were not like the lost ones we heard sometimes beyond the Temple precincts, wandering the dark streets, howling at the open sky. We were blessed. And now? Now those days were gone. Would we wander now, lost beneath the moon, with no place to rest our heads, blinded by the lights of foreign gods as they roared about in their burning chariots?
Our god was dead.
Grandfather died soon after. We found him, curled up in a corner of the Temple grounds. He had not wanted to profane the memory of our god by dying in the inner rooms. He had found a quiet place to sneak away to. We brought the children of our god to his body. They honoured him by burying him beside his fathers at the back of the Temple. He would have wanted it so. They spoke words over him, great words that were beyond our comprehension. But we understood them well enough. They were speaking of grandfather, and his love for his god. We understood that well enough.
Then of course the rooms were shut, the great gates opened. We were no longer to guard them for there was no god to protect any more. The Great Mistress followed her children out of the empty house, the children carrying her possessions to a great chariot. So she was to leave also now that the glory of our god’s presence had left. Piece by piece the furniture and ornaments of the Temple were removed. Soon the Temple stood empty, with only ourselves left, alone. I wanted to howl, feeling the sky yawning too wide above me, feeling lost, with no place or duty. I saw father feeling the same, his eyes downcast, his mouth set tight, his legs and tail tucked beneath him. Were we abandoned, to wander the world like ghosts?
But our god’s children remembered our long service, they did not abandon us. Two of them returned and took hold of us. They led us out into the world. I looked at father and he looked at me. One of the new gods led me to their chariot and another took father to theirs. I called out to him one last time. He cried back, and we knew, in that moment, whatever happened, we would never see each other again. It was only then that we howled. | "But are you sure the Master will be ok?"
My pack sister stared at me, nervous and frightened. It had been three days since the Master had left our home, leaving inside the humans metal beast that ran faster than any bird could fly. It was known by all dogs that humans could live for many generations, sometimes for seven or more. Such was the way with our Master. My mother's mother told stories of her grandfathers mother growing with our Master as pups, but we had only known him as the slow but loving human he is today. My pack sister barked again impatiently, and I was drawn from my reverie.
"The Master will be fine," I growled, making my aggravation for her incessant worrying known "he has survived the blood fields and fire rain. This sickness inside will not be his end." This seemed to calm her for a moment, her ears raised back up and her tail slowed its fearful wagging.
"Beware!" barked Alpha, his massive frame rising from then ground, "There are humans in our land!"
My pack sisters rose frantically, barking up a storm as they propelled themselves to the opening wall. Our Masters Pup came in through the opening wall, bringing with her her own pups, and their pups as well, the smell of cleaning sprays and dead things heavy on their removable fur. Alpha bowled into Masters Pup's daughter, she had barely been more than a pup when he had been brought from a world of cages and fear into our home, and they had spent much of their time together.
Slowly i pushed my way into the greeting; my joints ached from the strain of keeping my body up, but I had grown old, very old by our standards. So had our master, but I could not smell him on their skin or removable fur, only the smell of clean and death. Their eyes were red as we licked them, and their cheeks tasted of salt. Humans do this when they ate sad, its their way of coping. They spoke in great sobs as they scratched us, saying words of theirs. A few of them I knew, and I knew more words than any of my pack sisters even more words than our Alpha. They said words like "come", "walk", "good dogs" "gone". Their voices broke when they said their word for master "Rick", barely able to get the noise out, but my ears were still very sharp. They were grabbing our neck-lines even as fresh salt-water began to form around their eyes and sobs racked their bodies.
Our humans led us to the metal beast, silent but blasting heat around itself into the frigid air. We got in as it roared to life and we went very fast towards the sun. My young pack sisters were overjoyed to stick their noses into the rapid winds to smell the world in snippets, and even our Alpha bit at the air as we flew across the land, but i remained in the back. The metal beast had always made me queasy as we flew, its awesome speed pulled on my stomach and I had to try very hard not to lose it and make the humans clean up my mess. Plus, something was deeply wrong. Our humans could not say their father's name, as I could not say my mothers after she stopped breathing and was buried next to her mother on our land. The Master could not have stopped breathing, it was to soon in his incredible lifespan. Many humans lived for seven generations, and ours was only the sixth. Surely it was too soon?
Then we slowed and turned onto a hill. I almost lost my stomach on that turn, the lurching so sudden I tipped over into Alpha, but he was nearly twice my size and helped me right myself. The door opened and we were assaulted by smells of flesh and blood and feces, all muted by a viceral chemical that burned my nose. The beast stopped, and we exited, Alpha being the first after the humans, and I being the last, my old legs threatening to fall beneath me as I landed into the hard black stone. Alpha stopped and waited for me to catch up, looking at me with a deep sadness in his eyes, and suddenly I knew. He knew it as well, and wanted to pay me the respect owed to the oldest pack member. Our Master was dying, and I had spent the most time with him, it was only right for me to give the first good bye lick, but oh I did not want to. Suddenly I felt old, like all of my nearly twenty winters had happened all at the same time, and I did not want to enter this great home of death and chemicals. But my Master's Pup pulled gently on my leash and I obeyed.
We came into our Masters room, and there he was hooked to many whirring beasts with long tongues, hooking into his wrists and chest. His eyes opened dully as he saw his family, but they glowed like embers with a gentle breath of air, and a smile eclipsed his face. His body was dying, I could smell it beginning to fail even as his breathing rattled and slowed and his heart beat erratically. Wearily I brought my head to rest next to his hand, the hand that had held me before I could open my eyes, the hand that brought me such wonderful treats and excellent scratches, the hand that was now cold upon my tongue as I licked it gently. He scratched my eat weakly as the others began to push their way in. Master coughed and spoke words, many I could understand, but a few I couldn't.
"It's my time, pups. You've been good to me, but now I need you to be good to my Sophie. She's gonna need all of the love she can get, ya hear?"
I did hear, Master had given us a new order, be good to Sophie, take a new Master.
But I didn't want a new Master. | 2016-11-21T23:04:32 | 2016-11-21T21:12:30 | 26 | 11 |
[WP] You've been waking up in the same day over and over. After a year of this you tell someone. Their eyes just widen. "You too?" | "Gooooood Morning!!!"
"Oh, fuck off Jennifer." After a year of this, I'm at the end of my nerves.
Jennifer scoffs and scurries out of the room. I broke up with her six months ago, not that anyone remembers. My day just keeps starting over. Like a song stuck on repeat until it makes you so sick of it you prefer silence.
It's my birthday. Again. Maybe I would care if it wasn't my 300-something birthday this year. Today was supposed to be New Year's, not that anyone knows that either.
The sunrise is sickenly beautiful, the same streaks of pink and orange swirling in the sky. I wander out of the house and leave Jennifer to pout alone until she knows I'm gone.
Today, I'm not going to go to work. Today I catch a train to New York City, to celebrate New Year's in the place of my dreams. I catch the 5pm train to get me there by 11.
New York is lovely in September. It almost makes me glad I get to celebrate the holiday without freezing in a crowd of strangers.
The tourists surround me as I stand under where the ball should be. I feel my eyes begin to tear up.
"Happy New Years.." I murmur to myself. It's going to storm. It should be snowing.
I feel a tap on my shoulder. "Excuse me... What did you just say?" She's about my age. Eyes are big, full of fear... or hope. Hard to tell.
"I... Nothing." It's not worth explaining. I turn around to go, but she grabs my arm.
"*No,* tell me what you said." Her eyes pierce me.
I sigh. "I just said... Happy New Years."
Her voice is quiet and rough, "Why?"
"It's... I'm... Oh to hell with it you won't remember me tomorrow anyways. I-"
She suddenly hugs me tightly. I feel her chest throb a couple of times as she looks up at me with a teary smile. "Me too."
"You- you too?" I start to laugh. We just stare at each other for a while.
"How long?" I finally ask. She holds up 4 fingers.
"Four months?" She shakes her head sadly.
"Four *years?*" I wrap my arms around her again, "My god, I'm so sorry. It's only been about one for me."
"It's... okay. I'm glad I found you." she whispers. "Does it start over for you too when you go to sleep?"
I nod. There aren't any benches nearby so we lay on the sidewalk. "It's my birthday, you know."
"Today, or *today?*" she asks with a smirk.
"Today."
"Oh. Well then it's my birthday too." It begins to rain, but neither of us move. I take her hand in mine.
Midnight comes too soon.
"Happy New Years."
"Happy New Years."
"... Don't fall asleep, okay?"
"I won't."
"What's your name?"
"Lewis."
"Annabelle."
"...That's a really beautiful name."
"Thank you."
"It fits you well."
"How will I find you again?"
"Meet me here, as soon as you wake up."
"I will."
"But don't fall asleep."
"I won't."
I feel her hand begin to fade from mine, and soon the rain begins to stop.
I wake up to the same day. But this time, something is different. This time, I'll see her. And we will remember yesterday.
Edit: Part 2 in comments (: | The words uttered from her lips. My body froze, my mind trying to process what I heard. "What did you say?"
"You too? You're living the same day over and over?" Her voice concerned, but seeming to lighten. Her face, a mix of panic and happiness.
How could this be? How did I not notice her? Why are there two of us? How many more are there? She continued. "I am so relieved! I was worried i was the only one who..."
I cute her off mid-sentence. "How long has this been happening to you?"
She seemed confused at first. "About a year, I guess. Why does it matter?"
"I don't think we're alone. Meet me at the coffee joint at 8am tomorrow." I said, before walking away.
Her foot steps clicked behind me, following me. "Where are you...?"
"Stop following me, you're not going to want to see what happens next." I called before pulling out a gun and rounding a corner. I put it to my skull and pulled, the bang rang out as i sat upright in my bed, my alarm waking me. 7am, an hour to get ready... | 2017-07-15T08:30:00 | 2017-07-15T08:09:10 | 1,207 | 47 |
[WP] You wake up one day and find yourself in a strange room. Soon, you found out that you are now an SCP and are being contained by the SCP Facility. | (What the?)
**My eyes snapped open. Too quickly though as the light in the room policed them into a squint. My back hurt. Did I fall asleep on the floor? No, I'm on a bench......wait, since when did we get a bench.ql I began to sit up only for a voice to make my heart jump.**
???: "If you're going to sit up, do it very very slowly or we will have to shoot you ... again, David."
**Yeah. My eye snapped open. Officially this time. I was greeted by a white ceiling. I turned my head to the left to see seven guys in jumpsuits nervously watching me. They all had the letter "D" followed by a sequence of numbers. Further to the left, there was also a windowed room that seem to be where the voice I heard was coming from. A door w-**
???: "Immediate darting of eyes again. Same as last time. Seems to be on a subconscious level, instantly analysing their environment in a sharp manner. We'll test wether it's voluntary the next time they wake up. D-956 please bring David is foo-"
"Where am I!?" **I was indeed kind of scared. I could see the butts of rifles through openings along the top wall, all trained on me.** "Where is my family!? What is this place!? Let me g-" **I tensed. I had only halfway sat up before I heard the cocks of guns. The guy bring me my food quick dropped the plate and backed away.**
???: "Calm down David. Remember, sit up **slowly.** I suppose you do have a right to answers. We are known....or rather not known as the SCP foundation. We secure. Protect and contain anomalous objects and entities such as you for the safety of pretty much everything. You are here because we are try to determine a more humane way of containing you rather than shooting you as soon as you regain consciousness. Please don't move a muscle btw."
"..." **His voice was unnaturally calming. Even with guns aimed at me, it made me feel that I wasn't in danger. Even though what they said just now sounded made up and was a little difficult to comprehend I did notice their tone....they had dodged.** "Where's my family? You skipped that."
???: "Note: Seems to be resistant to certain memetics agents. Test later. Sorry I'm a loud note taker. To be frank, your family is dead David. You killed them. Each one severely dismembered along with the entire population Rittenbrook."
**Before I can say anything, I hear a beeping noise. An alarm?**
???: "Sorry David, don't worry it's quick. Reset him."
"Wha-" 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥
**I regain consciousness. Before I can even open my eyes I hear the guy's voice again.**
???: "David when you open your eyes, please only look at the ceiling. Or we will shoot you."
**I look around the room. I'm not in my previous spot. Slightly farther from the wind-**
???: "I see, the action is involuntary. Don't worry David, I was bluffing. Do you remember being shot?"
**I was shot wasn't I!? They shot me! ...but I'm alive.**
"...Y-yeah."
???: "So do you believe me about you being "anomalous?"
"I-I guess" **then it hit me** "S-so I really did kill m-"
???: "David, you will have time to cope with that later. We will need to shoot you again in a few so please listen. What's happening to you is not your fault. There are many unexplainable things in this world. Do not hold yourself responsible for the universe screwing you over. While you cannot change the past...well not without [REDACTED] , you can always choose how you proceed onwards. Understood?"
"Y-yeah"
???: "David, unless complications occur you'll be provided with mostly whatever you need for comfort. Just so you understand exactly why we cannot simply let you out, I'll explain what's affecting you so you know what we're dealing with. Last week you seem to have aquire a trait that looks to "ramp up" your capacity to cause harm the moment you gain consciousness. From what the data we collected while you were heavily .... heavily sedated. As soon as you wake up you involuntarily analyze your surroundings to look for potential ways to cause harm. The rate your capacity to harm increase is linear until you are awake for 10 minutes at which it very gradually becomes exponential. Events that take place seem to unfold by theirself as long as you are unaware of your own actions. It also seems to reset if you die."
"You deal with stuff like this all the time? Can't you help me control it or something?"
**I hear an alarm beeping**
???: "Ah we've hit 10 minutes. We can certainly try. David would u please pick up that fork and focus on it?"
**I pick up the fork with both hands and focus on it.**
???: "D-557, please stand 2 feet to the left of Mr. David."
**I hear the voice of what I assume to be the 557 guy. He seems to want to complain but their voice are drowned out as he walks closer. I know someone is standing beside me but I am really focused on this fork... I'm honestly surprised at how good I can concentrate.**
???: "David, while continuing to focus on the fork, please remove your left hand and place it at your side. Nothing else. Just place it at your side."
**What did he say? Place it at my side? Kinda zoned out. I removed my left and moved it to my side. But am still focusing on the fork. This is kinda easy.**
???: "....Um David...what are you doing with your left hand?"
"I placed it at my side like you said."
???: "Are you sure?"
**Huh, what is he talking about? As I begin to rapidly turn my head to check and break concentration on the fork, my environmental awareness suddenly returns and I hear the screaming. In my left hand is the 557's arm. Detached. The guy is on the ground in pain. I drop the fork but hear something louder drop to the ground. When I turn my gaze I see that I had not dropped the fork, but instead had thrown it across the room, clean through some guy numbered 274's throat.**
"Goodness! They need medical attention!! Help them!!" | I'm not entirely sure if this is a dream, it doesn't exactly feel like reality either. While it's not the most thrilling of scenarios, I can't imagine I wandered into this place in some kind of fugue state that I'm just now snapping out of. Has to be a dream.
"Mr. Allan, do you know who we are?"
A voice, but not one that I recognize from anywhere. This is beginning to feel less like a dream. I am fully aware of my body, I can walk around, not that there is anywhere to go in this sterile white box. What is this?
"What is this?"
"We must ensure our safety before we can continue."
Definitely not an American accent, no way to tell though. All I know is he isn't from Michigan. Safety? From what? Me? Why? Is this the CIA, am I in a blacksite or something? For what? Writing bad sci-fi?
"Close your eyes Mr. Allan."
An intense pressure like I've never felt, wrapping around the entirety of my skull. Is my skull being ripped off?!
"Alright Mr. Allan, calm your nerves."
"What the Hell!?"
I can see him now, sitting at the table across from me. An old scientist or professor with a giant pile of books on the table. The perfect mad scientist archetype, down to the messed up white hair and over-sized glasses.
"I apologize if that was jarring Mr. Allan, but it was a precaution that had to be taken. You are a dangerous man, even if you don't intend. Do you know this place, who I am?"
"No."
"Of course you don't, because that's the idea! Let me bring you up to speed. This is the SCP Foundation, I am Dr. Klaus and you are John Allan. Now why have our paths crossed you might wonder? Well... you see John, may I call you John?"
"Yes, please just explain what you're doing to me!"
"At once John! You have been brought to us because you present a threat to your fellow man that cannot be... contained by the enforcement agencies you are familiar with."
"A threat? How? I've done nothing wrong! I wouldn't hurt anyone! You can-"
"John please! You must let me explain, there are people at the Foundation who are very much on edge with your presence and would like to resolve matters with haste."
"Resolve what? What does that mean?"
"Okay John, I understand your frustration. Allow me to explain first what an SCP is. A very simple definition, think of it like this. A metaphysical entity, not always harmful but it can be. And that potential for harm is what scares my superiors so. To make it even more simple think of it like the boogeyman, you know the boogeyman?"
"Yeah, you're telling me you work for the Ghostbusters? Is this a joke? Let me out!"
"No John, this is no joke. It is gravely serious, and I suggest you take it seriously as well. I will cut straight to the point, John. You are responsible for the creation of several hundred SCP entities. That is only the ones we have been able to contain. John, we believe that you are an SCP. That is why you are here. You can never return home. You are in containment."
"No, no...no, I'm a writer for fuck's sake. What is this?"
"John, every Lovecraftian horror you have ever imagined has manifested itself somewhere on this planet. The monsters you dream up are not bound to the paper they are meant for, they have destroyed real people, caused literal chaos."
"No..."
"I wish it were not true John, but it is. You will be kept alive because reason outvoted fear. I believe you can undo the atrocities you have unknowingly committed, when you are needed, you will be called upon. Until then, you must sleep."
I really hope this is a dream. | 2022-02-23T22:34:35 | 2022-02-23T16:54:30 | 30 | 20 |
[WP] In a world where people are starting to gain super powers, the most hated groups aren't those with death rays, super intelligence, or world ending powers. It is those who can read mind. As someone who can read minds you are forced to hide among the non powered populace. | My heart thrummed as I took the green pin off of my lapel and dropped it in the trash can. I drizzled gasoline on it and set it alight. The entire can was engulfed in searing hot, red flames. I dropped the bottle in. The air was filled with the smell of burning plastic.
I took a blue pin out of my backpack and fastened it onto my lapel. Hands shaking, I tried to walk slowly but certainly out of the alley.
All around me, people's thoughts fluttered in and out of my head.
"I think pasta tonight."
"Dum dum de dum dum dum."
The color blue.
"Can't believe her. Why would she do that? No, why?"
"Terrible, horrible, person. Five taps. Five. Terrible."
"If Tony's got super strength, we could get out."
People's heads were difficult, see. You would think that people thought in straight lines, but people's thoughts rarely moved in singular tangents. They drifted around, switching from place to place, and weren't always in speaking format. I saw colors, pictures, movies. Actions people wanted to take. Desires people couldn't admit. The stronger and better trained mind readers could, at least.
It scared me at times, to be honest. Other mind readers couldn't read mine, and vice versa, so it wasn't something I had to admit. But I wondered how often my thoughts were really my own, or if they were other peoples'.
I slid my hood over my head. Night would be falling soon, and I would need to find a place to stay.
Probably a motel. The area where non-powered people lived was not a nice district. The streets were covered in garbage bags that smelled of days-old trash, broken glass, and dog urine. Rats flitted back and forth in daylight. I passed at least three homeless people in one block, begging for spare change.
There was a small motel on York street.
"ID please." The man at the counter said. There were massive bags underneath his eyes.
This was the first test. I took my fake out of my pocket and handed it to him, trying desperately to be cool.
His mind read nothing but boredom. I saw my ID out of his eyes and felt as he just glossed over the plastic card. His brain felt itchy. Shit. I pulled back.
Silently, he handed the ID back and outstretched his hand for a credit card. "How many days?" He asked.
"Uh." My mind went blank. "A week." I said. Maybe that would be too long. That would give them too much time to realize that I was gone, try to find me. The card was a fake. The ID was a fake.
None of it was real. It was all transient, threatening to evaporate in a second. Maybe I was the same, too.
The card went through. The guy handed the credit card back to me with a room key.
"Room 12." He said.
"Thanks."
The motel room was small. Paint was peeling over old water stains, the carpet was graying and worn in some places from years of people walking on it. When I checked the mattress it was teeming with bed bugs. So I settled in the corner, using my backpack as a pillow. There was something lumpy in it, and a little painful. Shit, I forgot. I dug into the backpack and took out the knife I was carrying, placing it in my lap.
I missed the upper ring. The parties where everyone was a mind reader like me. We would take turns guessing which server was thinking what. The lovely apartments with birds-eye views. My parents finally got the life they deserved. My high-ranking career in intelligence in the military was promised and bright as soon as I graduated.
But I remembered the way my mom looked at me when I first asked her why she was thinking about my dad while thinking about a piece of plastic in their trashcan. I remembered the first day of school in the Reader's class, being told what I was by the teacher. The moment I realized that Readers were murdered at higher rates than any other powered person. The armed guards in our community. They served two purposes: to keep others from coming it to harm us, and to shoot us any time we went too far.
I dozed off a bit. My mind was filled with the dreams of the couple in Room 11. I could tell the woman was dreaming about a sofa she was trying to sell, but no one wanted it. The man was dreaming that she was pregnant. He didn't dislike it.
There was a knock on the door, and then suddenly a loud bang. My eyes flew open and I shot up, clutching the knife as tight as I could.
Someone was aiming a gun at me. "Get down, get down!" Someone was screaming. Men covered in SWAT team gear ran into the room. I couldn't see their faces, but I could hear their thoughts. Confusion. Just a girl? Readers are despicable. Horror. Blue.
Two of them wore red pins. Sharpshooters, as accurate as anything. Three of them, with their orange pins, had super strength.
"You are under arrest!" A detective came in. Lime green - enhanced intelligence. He was wearing a blazer and a button-down white shirt, aiming another gun at me.
"For what?" I asked.
A very pointed emotion. Confusion. Why were they there? People should be free to go wherever they want. Murder? Did this girl really murder someone?
"I didn't murder anyone." I said to the team. Which was the guy with those thoughts? Second one from the right, red pin. "They're arresting me because they want to keep a hold on us. It's because I'm a Reader. A prisoner." I eyed the detective. "Am I wrong?"
His eyes were confident, but his brain was swirling with confusion. It made my head hurt. His brain was going in so many different directions, seeing a myriad of different possibilities. It was a swarm, and a mess. It made it hard for me to think.
The others didn't know what to think. Fingers over the triggers were going slack.
"I don't want to hurt anyone." I said. "I just want to be free."
The team was glancing back at the detective. Indecision. Thoughts swirling in their heads.
Nothing could compare to what the detective was thinking, and as much as it made my head hurt it also filled me with fear. My hands were shaking over the knife. He could only come up with one response.
"You don't have to kill me." I pleaded.
The detective was silent. Instead, he showed me pictures: me in prison back in the Readers district, being made an example of. Lethal injection. Purposely painful, oops - looks like the anesthetic didn't work. Not many people liked us Readers.
Or perhaps I would be brainwashed. By a hypnotist. Forced to stare into their eyes until I became a thoughtless weapon of the military once again. I would cease to exist.
"I don't want that." I said.
"You have no choice." He thought to me.
"Team. Weapons engage." He said to his team.
My arm moved without thinking. I flung the knife at the detective. It landed right between his eyes. Heart racing in my chest, feeling adrenaline surge through my legs, I picked up my bag and ran as fast as I could. The world went white and deafening with the flash of bullets as I reached the doorway and careened out into the night.
-------
If you enjoyed that, please follow my stories over on /r/ShittyDuckStories. Thanks for reading! | She was running. The dark environment was giving her the chills. She felt tired, but couldn´t stop running, unless she wanted a painful end. She knew one of them had super speed, because his thoughts were inclining towards that power "Stupid girl, she doesn´t know my full speed yet!", he thought. They weren´t very smart in her opinion (they weren´t hiding their intentions from her, allowing her to know it all!) but they were still dangerous because they knew what she was, her "little secret". She noticed the turns were getting tighter... This wasn´t a good sign...
There was at least three people chasing her, one cocky dude with super speed and a man bun, one guy with no power at all, but with a stunning face, and a tiger-like woman, with dark skin and a bandana. The girl met these figures at a bar. She was there to meet a person with the same ability as her, but didn´t find it. Instead, she tried to have a conversation with the guy with the man bun to avoid any suspicion, but things turned to the worst when she accidentally responded to one of his thoughts instead of his speech(it was difficult for her to distinguish them yet). He had looked at he like she was some sort of freak, and his friends started to emerge from the corners of the bar, almost circling her. At that moment, she understood. And started the flight.
"At least no one knows what I´m thinking... I just wanted to go home and not be chased around like this...", she pondered.
Then, she hit a dead end.
Panic stroke her.
"WHAT THE HECK???!! NO DON´T TELL ME! UGHHHH. I JUST WANTED TO FEED MY CAT ONE LAST TIME!", she was almost fainting.
The shadows behind her started to laugh. Their thoughts were a bunch of mocking and a lot of "funny ways to kill her".
Someone put a hand in her mouth. It was a strong one. A man´s hand.
\-- *Hey, Don´t panic --* he got closer and whispered in my ear -- *I won´t hurt you, I´ll take you somewhere safe --* He let go of her and started walking towards a wall, then grabbed her hand. He started to go *through it.* She was shocked. Her pursuers were almost getting to where she was. But, after some time, they all disappeared.
Inside of the wall, there was a long corridor made of stone, with torches all over the entire thing. Now he could see the mysterious man that brought her there: a green-eyed tall ginger, with freckles all over his face. He was wearing really dark clothes and had a glad smile on his face.
\--Are you the one I was supposed to meet? -- asked her, in a shy voice.
\--If you are a mind-reader, I guess so -- he laughed a little bit. His voice was soft and he had a beautiful smile -- My name is Jason. We don´t use last names in where, so just call me that.
\--Oh, okay! My name is Amber, nice to meet you! -- it was REALLY nice to meed him. Totally the best thing that happened that day
\--I´m glad I´m the nicest thing that happened today for you -- he said with a playful smile
Amber immediately blushed like a tomato. Her pale skin was´t good at hiding it. "Of course he reads minds just like you, dummy!" She turned her gray eyes at him.
\-- Hey!! Stop reading my mind!
\--You know we can´t control that! - he laughed a little more -- but at least you are safe now. I brought you to an underground facility where we are all mind-readers. Get used to people knowing everything about you all from the start!
\--Wow. That was fast. This is too much info in too little time!
\--You need to know this now, before you start thinking about your deepest darkest secrets... -- he picked a torch up and started to walk -- But let´s go, because we don´t want the rock monsters to eat us
\--THERE´S WATER MONSTERS IN HERE?!
\--Nah, I was kidding. Come on, Amber, follow me! - he looked at her. She smiled. "Guess I´ll go then, I am already invested in this place.
​
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Hope you like my little story! It is my first comment here on Reddit! | 2019-12-23T07:07:25 | 2019-12-23T06:41:34 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] "You have my bow" - said the elvish warrior, producing his weapon "And my axe" - added the dwarven envoy removing it from his backstraps, "And my AK-47" - said the human procuring a weapon most peculiar | Later, when pressed fervently, he would remark his strange mask was a balaklava, a word without meaning or merit in any of the cultures of Man. Indeed he seemed a man, yet utterly bizarre to all such folk from elvish stock of all origins to their Isle to the West, from the plainfolk of Bree to the Shire, to the old Dunedain to those many dwarfs under their many mountains to the far flung pockets of men where were last heard the blue wizards, and far south still, to where the old ghosts of Mordor still echoed that it was not yet a villain’s land.
Yet it was in that moment when he brandished his weapon, that he said he acquired through “lucking out on a shit crate”, that he began what could only be described as a sacred ceremony. His strange words seemed spoken in the language familiar to the men of Rohirrim, yet beguiled with never before heard phrases, chants, and movements.
He holstered his weapon, and unsheathed a blade of steel so pure that the edge shivered blue like silver metal under ice. And immediately upon so doing, he would sheathe his dagger, that he called a knife, and unholster what he called his AK47. Back and forth with limber work in his muscles he did this, his speed blurring the moving parts of his image into his armor that strangely enough seemed intended to blend in with his surroundings! Ah but this was the least ridiculous of such notions that they were forced to reckon with that night!
For all the while in this ceremony, he hopped up and down, sometimes crouching midair, a feat once thought so impossible that the weakest warriors present were sent to be treated for battle fatigue before the fighting had even begun! His gaze was cast to and fro, his hips seemingly on a pivot with his eyes, as he inculcated them into his shadowy ways.
Years later, when his solemn oaths had been brought home from war with the memories of carnage in the minds of surviving soldiers, it would be found that even the wisest and most foolish in the lands could not illuminate his true intent; though all were always in agreement of the severity of his undertaking. For such posterity as to be one day made whole through the conception of his rituals, our peoples will pass down these sayings, until his memory is turned into legend as they say happened to Old Bombadil.
He spoke of insects on waiters, although my scribe insists I specify, “128 tick servers or bust” as the balaklava so chanted. “Gold elo”, he screamed, “I’m gold elo bitches!”
“Once I hit this lagswitch I’m bound for a rank up” he said as well, after bumping into a bystander and stabbing the wall with his knife.
“I’m gonna fucking phoon em!”, as he performed what to him apparently was reminiscent of making tea.
Some in the party had grown disquiet at this, calling this man a heathen and a lunatic, but at the battering of the orcs at the gate, the fighters spread to their embrasures to find a horrible racket of ringing and explosions in their ears at the behest of balaklava, as his weapon spit metal like a repeating crossbow. Scores were slain in moments.
Finally in awe of the power demonstrated, those present realized the power of his invocation was easily as strong as the Valar. | "And my AK-47." I produced from my pocket what I had left of the half ounce I copped from Brian a couple hours ago. "...how will this help, exactly?" Replied this ridiculously tall, pale white man with a bow. I didn't know how to reply, I thought these cosplayers were just messing with me after smelling the dank leaking out of my backpack. The one dressed as a dwarf was especially taken back by the mere presence of my devil lettuce, he has to be an ex con or something. His face is absolutely terrifying. Short and stout...is that axe real? Fuck. "Uhhh...yeah, we smoke the herb and we will see visions to assist us on our quest." I said to them. What do I have to lose anyway, not like I can just walk away at this point. | 2019-07-01T00:29:18 | 2019-06-30T21:12:09 | 27 | 18 |
[WP] You are a young adult with one of the strongest superpowers your world has ever seen, heroes and villains come to you everyday to try and sway you to their side. You don't care about fighting, you just want to go to Dental School. | "Have you seen what a mouth full of decayed teeth looks like?"
Sledgehammer rolled her eyes. Our afternoon hanging out in my apartment off campus had devolved into the usual argument.
I pulled out my phone and did an image search. "See this?" I waved the screen in her face. "All of those jagged edges, and that nasty brown area?"
Sledgehammer remained impassive, but over on the futon, The Duality made gagging noises. I scrolled through a few more photos. "Or, look at these gums. That's someone who hasn't flossed in a long time, if ever. Imagine trying to eat, with a mouth like that?"
Sledgehammer sighed and waved my hand away. "Yes, that looks awful. But--but humans can fight tooth decay on their own!" She pounded a fist on my table for emphasis. A crack unfurled across the wood grain. "They need us around to fight the things they can't themselves." She ticked off examples on her fingers: "Mad scientists, reanimated ancient gods, that alien slime mold--"
"Not every human can fight tooth decay, didn't you see? Not without help." I slid my phone back into my pocket and ran a finger along the crack in the table.
Sledgehammer flushed. "My insurance will cover that."
"Your--?"
"The thanks of a grateful nation. They pay accident coverage for things I hit with my fists, even off-duty."
"Nice. Not needed here, though." I unstuck the table from the timestream and aged it backwards about five minutes. The cleft zipped itself shut before our eyes.
The Duality came over and ran their hands across the newly pristine surface. "Even after watching you do that dozens of times, it doesn't get old." They winced. "Pun not intended."
Sledgehammer spoke up again. "But how can you be the master of all of space-time and not want to do amazing things with your abilities?"
"The calling to dentistry is--"
"A human calling. You are destining yourself to mediocrity."
I slammed a fist on the table, injuring neither table nor fist. "It's important in a personal, lasting way. It involves being there in lots of humans' lives, providing care to them, performing manifold small helpful tasks. I don't want to sit around idly until some world-ending threat comes along, just so I can do heroics in a big, flashy way and keep everyone I save at a distance."
"Are you sure?" Sledgehammer flashed her camera-ready grin. "It's actually a great way to live."
"What if you were both?" said The Duality. "A superhero dentist? Like, you could call yourself The Tooth, and then when you're facing down monsters, you could say to them, *You can't handle The Tooth!*"
Sledgehammer and I exchanged a look.
"Okay, not that," The Duality said. "How about The Dentinator?"
I yawned.
"Oral Fixator?"
I shook my head.
"Jean-Claude Van Dental Damme?"
"That's not even a dentistry pun."
"Grandmaster Floss."
"I--shoot, I actually like that one." The Duality giggled and clapped their hands. "But a name doesn't change anything--I don't plan on a career outside of the human mouth."
Sledgehammer made a fist and hit it against her palm. I nodded my thanks at her for her consideration. "It's just--with your abilities, you could throw so many super-villains into obsolescence--"
"Adolescence," I amended.
"Eww. Yes, that too. You're so powerful, and you're--"
"Done." They looked up in alarm. "Done with this conversation." I began herding everyone toward the door. "It's been a great time, but I've got studying to do." Sledgehammer opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. "Unless you'd like to look at more decayed tooth images with me?"
The Duality gagged again.
"This conversation is just paused," Sledgehammer said. "Until next time, Grandmaster Floss."
I ushered them through the door and got out my textbooks. Just a quiet life of dentistry for me. Or orthodontia. Or endodontics, if I got really ambitious.
Except, dammit, I really did like being called by that name. | It's a little after seven in the morning when the sounds of a squabble dredge me from my slumber. I sigh and roll out of bed; I need coffee before I can deal with this again.
Strong coffee.
As I trudge across my dorm room I hear the squabble escalate as voices raise, punches are thrown and finally what sounds like a raygun goes off before silence fills the hallway beyond my door. I wonder who won today? The raygun sounded like one of Professor Oblivion's weapons, so no doubt there's a whole load of cackling and hand rubbing on the other side of the door. At least Oblivion brings me 'incentives' when he tries to recruit me to his League of Evil, or whatever it is he calls it; last time he gave me a drill that can bore through bank vaults. Probably a little overkill for dental work, but at least I don't have to worry about it going dull.
My shoulders sag as I pour the black gold into my favourite mug. Why can't I have one morning without a costumed whacko trying to sign me up? Aren't they worried that they might end up like that clown at my seventh birthday party? The men who came later didn't see what I did, but they said it was the most spectacular aftermath of an 'awakening' they'd ever seen. It was just a shame Bobo or Bozo or whatever had frightened me into activating my power for the first time.
They never did find his other shoe.
I finish my coffee and dress for the day before I go to open the blinds, and discover there's a ninja on other side, cutting through the glass like in the movies. He stares wide-eyed for a moment before he waves at me sheepishly, and I close my eyes and start rubbing my temples. Today's going to be a long day.
| 2017-06-13T17:05:46 | 2017-06-13T16:50:17 | 25 | 10 |
[WP] "You'll never rest", they said. "Eventually, you will come to hate your eternal curse", they warned. 6 billion years, 3 intergalactic voyages, and more planets than you can count later, and you're still skipping along, having the time of your life with your 'cursed' existence. | I guess you could call it my chamber of solitude. Thousands of archives and artifacts are devoted to simple pleasures, quiet and violent romances, and grand adventures to resurrect dying worlds. You haven't lived until you've saved ten solar systems by having sex with a squid-like empress who commands the star crusher. Funnily enough I keep records of that adventure next to photos of a summer I spent collecting rare flowers with these translucent crystalline toddlers on the moon of a gas giant. With all these memories solidified on a never ending, expanding canvas, each individual dot somehow becomes equally valuable.
There are three realizations I've had that have kept me from losing my sanity.
The first is you can always cheat. I accumulated enough knowledge and power during the first few thousand years (which were absolutely the hardest) to ensure I always engage the universe on my terms. If I don't like something, I can escape, sleep a hundred years, blast the world devourer in the face, and move on. Freedom means that no matter how awful I feel, there is a way to alleviate it.
Secondly, even an immortal brain can't handle everything with perfect efficiency. And that works to my advantage. I didn't really start to appreciate this until after a million years experimenting with body modifying technology. Some memories inevitably fade and are not as vivid as before. I can still remember bits and fragments, but they aren't as real. I do however keep the wisdom, as well as key details in my infinite archive. After a while a new life really does feel like a new life.
Swapping genders helps immeasurably. And there are oh so many genders that an imaginative nature has invented. I don't even know if I've tried them all yet.
Third, and most importantly of all, I'm not unique. And I'm not that important. It's actually a disability I have, but one I've learned to cope with.
We are all immortals in a way, reincarnating from one life to the next, our souls constantly growing and seeking adventure. The difference is I have to transition from place to place manually. I'm disconnected from the ethereal realm of souls and energy. So I have to hoist myself up from my immortal wheelchair and drag myself into bed to begin the next dream. You mortals really don't know how lucky you have it.
There is one last secret I forgot to mention. I've made friends in some very, very high places. The fools who cursed me billions of years ago really had no idea how far I'd go, how much I'd surpass them. Yes, I've discovered the ultimate secret. I know how to die.
But there is a reason why we sometimes choose defective bodies. Sometimes we are born in poverty, with a missing leg, with an abusive mother, with dyscalcula. We do it to learn compassion, for the challenge, as a sacrifice for those young souls who aren't ready to face the harsh realities of an entropic universe. There are many reasons why we choose imperfection. And I must confess I take a sick, perverse comfort in bearing the curse of immortality so some other young ambitious fool doesn't have to endure it.
I did receive one warning. Make sure to die before the death of the universe. It's not that I'll be trapped forever. But rather if I have to be rescued by those of the higher dimension, my death will probably not be pleasant and my immortal soul will feel some guilt for inconveniencing those above with little old me. And a favor that requires the tearing apart of the fabric of reality can't exactly be repaid with a drink at a bar.
I guess I could always offer to have sex with them. From what I gathered they still have a sense of humor, and a laugh is still worth quite a bit to them. | They neve knew how it would be, how could they? I was the only one who had the courage, after all I didn't have anything to live for, now I know everything my civilization knew, I saw kingdoms burn, i saw everything a human could've seen and finally it clicked, all that sadness, boredom had no meaning, I was thinking about the universe as if i was a human took me 2 billion years but it finally clicked, I'm something else, a beeing that should have never been born but either way here I am, cursed with the time of my life, sex is no longer enjoyable so i just sit and watch civilizations being born and die, they come and go and so do. im so old my time is not theirs anymore, i wonder in how much time civilizations will be born and die in a glimpse of my eye? Now i know how the god of those stories felt, maybe hes out there looking at me. Its just a matter of time for me to know even more secrets of this universe or maybe the next one haha, im just too young to understand it all... | 2020-10-25T10:37:57 | 2020-10-25T10:02:18 | 208 | 49 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | "What on earth....?!?!?" I cried, hands trying to cover my body. All I had on were my bra and underwear, and the room I suddenly found myself in was quite chilly.
"Demon! I have summoned you to do my bidding!"
My eyes turned to a large, red, scaled creature to the left of me. He stood outside of the pentagram I was kneeling in. "WHAT did you just call me?"
"Tell me your name, demon, so I may bind you to me!" said the creature.
"Ok, FIRST of all, I am not a demon. Rude. Secondly, I would have told you my name if you hadn't said THAT creepyness. And thirdly WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING HERE."
The creature shifted uncomfortably and turned a page in a dusty, old tome. His eyes shifted across the page. "No, you are a demon of the succubus classification. I am sure of it. You look just like the picture, though not all of you is bare."
He turned the tome towards me to show what could only be described as something out of Playboy.
"Succubus??? Wow, ok. This is making me rethink some of my life decisions... What exactly did you 'summon' me here for?"
"You will teach me the art of... erm... lovemaking." His eyes shifted away from me and his scales took on a blue hue.
"Nope. Nope. Not happening. Send me home and get someone else, because that is sooooo not going to happen." I stood up and attempted to grab the tome from him. My hand stopped short, and it felt as though I punched a wall.
"You will do as I bid or you will not leave," he growled.
"Well get comfortable, then," I snarled back. "What makes you think you can do this to me? Would you kidnap some lizard girl from your world, hold her captive aginst her will, and try to rape her?"
The creature looked alarmed. "Of course not, I..."
"So WHAT exactly makes you think you can do it to me? I'm a person too!" I shouted. "Aren't there whores here? Go hire one!"
"There are not. No one needs to sell themselves here. Am I so hideous that even a demon will not touch me...?" He looked away.
"Ok, cut the self pity. You are not the victim here. Besides, I wouldn't know if you're ugly or not. I've never seen anything like you. Your scales are kind of pretty I guess..."
"You think so? I haven't oiled them recently. I've been too depressed."
"Why's that?"
"....well, the love of my life doesn't even know exist."
"And you thought summoning a demon to teach you how to have good sex would fix that? Have you even talked to her?"
"Well, no...."
"You dumbass. Next time you think of screwing with the underworld, maybe ask yourself, 'Is this something good communication could fix?' She is not going to give a damn about how good you are in bed if you've never even spoken to her."
The creature gaze swung to meet my own. "But that could compensate for..."
"What? A lack of good looks? Charm? Personality? Guess what, you're never going get close to her if she doesn't find you interesting. Start focusing on who you are instead. And if she cares more about how you look on the outside versus the inside, she's not worth it," I lectured, sitting back down. I wrapped my arms around my legs for warmth.
"I suppose I never thought about it that way." The creature pursed his lips, a thoughtful expression looming across his face.
"Great. Now, in exchange for my sage and otherworldly advice, I demand you send me back to my room before I freeze to death."
"May I summon you again?"
"N... You know what? Yea, sure. Next time don't do it while I'm changing, though. My name is Mara Schmidt."
"I am Abigor. See you soon."
Poof.
| When I vanished from the middle of class, I didn't know where I was going. All I experienced was darkness and a rush of cool wind before I was deposited in a place that looked like the middle of a forest.
As my eyes adjusted to the level of sunlight, I saw a few humanoid creatures staring at me. They nudged one another and whispered in a guttural language. Finally, one took a few timid steps toward me and spoke. "O great demon of the underworld . . ."
I blinked. "What?"
The humanoid looked taken aback. "You're a demon. We summoned you." They held up a spellbook and pointed at the circle around me. "See?"
I looked around. "Um . . . Okay? What do you need, then?"
One of the humanoids in the back piped up. "There's a girl who keeps ruining our lives and we want you to scare her into not doing it anymore!"
My anger burned a little bit, which set a small fire around me. "What the hell," I whispered as I stomped it out. "And you think that she'll see you as more intimidating by doing sorcery?"
"Successful sorcery!" a third added.
I sighed. For my family, I would do this unwaveringly. For my friends, I would do it took. For these nerds? What do I have to lose? "Okay. Take me to this girl."
They led me toward a set of buildings and I played with the fire my hands generated to practice my new skill. | 2017-05-12T10:46:12 | 2017-05-12T08:32:17 | 41 | 10 |
[WP] You have a superpower. Every time someone tells you to do something, you can say 'no u' & that person will make it their life's mission to accomplish the task. One day, you & your 8-year old nephew are talking & he says, "I hope you make the world a better place." You smilingly reply, "no u." | In all the comics I'd read, there were a few semi-useless superpowers. Most heroes have an origin story. I'm not even sure what mine would be. I don't think I was born this way or I'd of wreaked havoc as a kid. None of my research ever led me to any answers. Not that it was research, per say. It was mostly collecting comics. Still, I don't know how it happened. And it's not like I could don a suit and change the world. Fight crime. What, walk up to muggers who demand I give them my life savings and tell them, "No, you." I'd be stealing from thieves.
It was a lame superpower and I tried to avoid it. Well, until inspiration struck. I was doing more research- this time watching Steve Rogers save the world. My nephew was raptly watching. "Hey, Uncle John. Go save the world." It was a quick comment. But who better to save the world than an eight year old with his whole life ahead of him?
The worlds fell out before I could rethink them or pause on the consequences. "No, you."
He blinked. "Okay. I'm going to save the world!"
A switch had flipped. I gave him two old laptops and he built one for himself. He did everything. By ten he was a certified tech genius. The kid stumbled on a new way to desalinate water and at twelve got patents. His design got purchased and the desalination plants cropped up along the coasts all over the world. The third world had clean water access for pennies of what it goes to drill wells. By fourteen I watched my nephew get accepted into college at MIT. He found a way to remove plastic particulates. He set up boats attatched to solar-powered, satellite controlled motors with plastic removers and fleets of little drone-boats cleaned up the garbage patches and reduced them.
By eighteen the oceans were being cleaned. He turned his eyes to the trash that threatened them. By twenty he had a new, plant-based material to replace plastic. All those oceans he was saving produced an algea he used to make bio-degradable water bottles.
Bored with fixing oceans and trash he fixed his eyes on transit. He was in his own tech firm and made a newer, more efficient solar panel and battery and sold them to make solar-powered cars with self-contained charging panels. No need to plug in except maybe in winter or if you garage it. The costs fell and mass adaptation led to lower pollution. I watched the world slowly shift. He designed a public transit Hyperloop that was cost-efficient and eco-friendly. The RyanTech Hyperloop was slowly linking cities around the US and a few went in overseas in Europe. I barely saw him anymore but I'd step into his offices with my badge declaring me the Chief Executive Project Assessment Coordinator. I basically told my nephew which projects needed the most attention from him.
But I'd meet the young woman researching lung cancer and she would smile. "Come on. Step into my lab. Cure cancer."
It was a great opportunity to send more people out to their destinies. "No, you."
She waved. "Sure thing." Within a year her team found a way to detect and destroy cancer cells in the lungs and were adapting it to other area. Within five years of our meeting they had knocked out lung cancer, lymphoma, leukemia and breast cancer. They were nearly figuring out how to break through the blood-brain barrier and so close to curing brain cancer.
Ryan was off saving the world. Instead of building a better bomb or shooting them down he figured out how to target them and disable the systems which ran them so they'd shut down and fall out of the sky. He effectively denuclearized the world in a day.
His charity built roads and bridges and set up wells for water and installed solar arrays and windfarms in the third world. He found affordable housing solutions and built cities to bring areas into the modern world. His global satellite network brought the internet to everyone who wanted access and showed them we are not so different. I was sixty-five and he was forty-three when he took a leave of absence from RyanTech and ran for President of the United States.
I was on-stage when he was announced as the winner. He wasn't just my nephew anymore. He was President-Elect Ryan Gaines now. He smiled at the cheering crowd and motioned me forward. "I was eight when my Uncle John here told me to change the world. And, I can't quite say why I always come back to that moment. But, sitting there watching a Captain America movie it struck me. I may not be Steve Rogers. The world may not have superheroes. But we do have people. And maybe that's all we need. My team at RyanTech have some of the most... empassioned people on the planet. If we decide to solve a problem... we do it. We set out to cure cancer and we had it done in five years. I decided the oceans needed our help and found a way to make it happen.
"And I can't tell you what it is about John but... he has a way with people. He's certainly been an inspiration. He goes and talks to teams at RyanTech and... he leaves people with this incredible sense of purpose. And having him and all these great people around me tells me we can do this. We can make not only America but every place... great. We can save people not only here but everywhere. I may not have superheroes who swoop in and save the day, but I do have my team. I have all of you. People who... are driven to be forces for good in this world. And that's what this will be. A change in the world for the better."
Ryan was speaking off the cuff as usual. He was hard to reign in. People loved him for it. But a new thing crept in. A sense of guilt? After wards Ryan had his tie loosed and everyone else had gone home. "Superheroes don't exist, but superpowers do."
Ryan stopped, beer halfway raised. "What?"
"This sounds crazy but superpowers exist. I have one. I can make people do things. That day when we were watching Captain America? I told you to save the world, so you did."
Ryan laughed. "Okay. Sure. How many beers have you drank tonight?"
"One. If you tell me to do something and I say, 'No, you.' Then people do it. They have to. You have to save the world. I'm sorry. This wasn't really what I thought- well, truthfully I didn't think. You wanted me to be a hero and told me to save the world and... I had such a lame superpower. I wanted to help but... it was the first time I had the opportunity to. So I told you to save the world. When I meet with your teams I hope somebody jokingly tells me to do something. Like... solve third world hunger. Cure cancer. Disarm nuclear weapons. No, you. Then they... do."
Ryan was a smart kid. "Bring me a beer."
"No, you."
The reaction wasn't immediate. He started sweating. Finally, he broke and went and grabbed two more beers. "Holy shit. You're my new Secretary of State."
"I'm not qualified for that!"
Ryan was excited, his eyes holding an excitement John hadn't seen in years. "Don't you get it? Go meet with a terrorist cell. When he tells you to pull your troops out say, "No, you," We can end wars, Uncle John. We can have every single bad dude in the world roll over. War- gone. Somebody is stopping medical aide shipments? We can stop it."
"I tell you I can mind control people and you go to stopping terrorists?"
He shrugged. "They like to give demands. You'd have a lot of opportunity to tell them to do things- like give up."
"I mean you don't want to have me take over foreign heads of states? Nothing like that?"
"What? No." Ryan shook his head. "We're saving the world, Uncle John. I don't need to rule it. I only wanted to be President to reach more people. People get hurt and sick or die because nobody is there. I can help more people from here. RyanTech is important but this is bigger than me or you. We can make it happen so the head of the VA says for you to get mental health aid to more vets. Or... increase the graduation rate. Director of the FBI and decreasing violent crime. We can *fix* it. Quit being passive. I'm going to put you everywhere you need to be, Uncle John. Come on. I just found out superheroes do exist. We're going to save the world. You're going to be the hero the world never knew it needed."
"One who tells people what to do?"
Ryan was smiling wide. "No. Hope. Hope for a better world. Inspiring all the right people to put aside differences and work for something better. You told me to save the world. It's time to help me do it, and this time in the light." | Before he finished speaking a leash sprang from his hand and wrapped around my neck. I gasp. It burns, burns with incredible rage, burns with a passion that did not fade away. I try taking it off but it won't budge. I don't think he sees it. He doesn't see it. He sees me pulling at my neck and laughs. "What, are you getting an itch?" he roars in that jovial voice of his.
It is an itch. There's this compulsion to change everything laid upon me, a hatred of the sadness of the world seated deep in my heart. I look around and see nothing but gray as far as the eye can see. He's gray. I'm gray. Everyone walking by us in the museum is gray. The world loses all its sparkle, all its color, all its joy. There is a sad music playing – dark and beautiful and longing for better times.
"How?" I ask quietly. "There's so much bad. I see it all now. It festers in the stagnant mires of people's hearts, rots away at the ties that bind. I can see evil dripping from the trees and the roofs and the walls and the baggage claim terminals. I can see hatred riding like a witch on the breeze that moves the world."
Uncle looks at me strangely. "Yeah, it's pretty messed up. But here's the best part: you *have* to make it a better place, and you *will* be able to. You just need to apply yourself."
I stop looking at the world around me and cast my eyes into the streams of time. Where did it all go wrong? When did the music start? No song can play forever. That's not how it works. There has to be a beginning – and, I think, an end. I try going on into the future, but somehow can't. There's something blocking the way. A voice tells me that my path is already laid out for me and I don't need to see the future to know what it is. Well, that helps.
I go back into the past. The music seems to rewind. It's quieter now, closer to its headwaters. Headmusics? Whatever. I see myself in the past, yelling at Uncle. I see myself *further* in the past, yelling at one of my friends or something. There are a lot of scenes of me yelling at somebody. I feel a pang of guilt.
Finally the music dies away. This is when all the bad in the world started! I can destroy it here and now! Or... then. Whatever. I look around for whatever caused the break, but even my sight cannot see anything but myself.
Myself. That's interesting. That's *very* interesting.
I think back. All the times I yelled at people, all the times I stole suitcases from the baggage claim. I feel a sneaking suspicion. I look inward, toward my own heart, and see a raging pit of darkness and hatred and rage and cruelty.
It's all my fault. I screwed everything up. I'm not sure how an 8-year-old started all the evil in the world, but the voice told me the answer. My path ahead is clear.
Back in the present, I look over the rail. We're on the twentieth floor of the museum, the floor dedicated to the 1900s. In the center of the building there is a giant square skylight running from the top to the bottom. I leap over the rail and fall, fall downwards to my death, fall downwards to the end of everything wrong with the world. I scream, not in terror but in joy. I am still screaming when I crash into the floor and all the lights go out.
I am standing in a hall that seems to go on forever. There is no roof, but above me I cannot see the sky. I see a great orb hanging in the center of a field of stars. Somehow I can tell that it's very far away and very, *very* big. If I look hard enough I can see a brilliant shining region in the innermost center, gleaming with pure light. Just outside it there's another layer, but much angrier, aflame with rage and hatred. And beyond that I can see, if I look hard enough, my own world. I can see my uncle staring at my broken and mangled corpse. I can see armies fighting each other. They all seem so small now.
I lower my eyes. Before me I see an old man, hobbled over on a walking-stave, his unkempt hair and beard gleaming snow-white beneath a roof of stars. I walk up to him and he lays a kindly hand on my shoulder. "You alright, kid?" he asks gently. It isn't an old man's voice at all. It hums with a musical energy of sorts and it is far too beautiful for any child of humankind. "That was a bad fall you had there."
I shrug. "It was what I had to do. I deserved it. All of it was my fault"
He shakes his head and laughs at the stars. There is a fatherly smile upon his face. "Ah, the innocence of youth. No, none of it was your fault," he tells me. "It's never anybody's fault."
"Who are you?" I ask.
"Oh, there are a lot of names for me," he answers. "I could list them for literal Ages of the world. But you don't have time for that. I am the fiery heart of the universe, the energy that makes it tick. You and all the plants and animals and fungi and bacteria, all life is within me. And I am within all life."
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked. I feel like I'm reading a story that doesn't have a plot or something.
"Because you were told that you had to make the world a better place," he replies, "and so some small part of me also has to make the world a better place. So I'm giving you this book that contains just about everything your species needs to know – all the formulas, descriptions of the elements, maps, technological descriptions, ways to improve the baggage claim process, and so on – and a superpower of your own: the ability to invite others into the thickets of your imagination, and by so doing, teach them of the true nature of things."
"And what is that true nature of things?" I hazard.
"You already know," he says with a wink. "Now, I'm sending you home. Enjoy the ride – and good luck." | 2019-01-26T16:36:17 | 2019-01-26T11:08:30 | 486 | 160 |
[WP] You are sent 1000 years into the past with the entire library of wikipedia downloaded onto a tablet device. After only 1 year, you are renowned as a wise man and prophet. | As the noose slides over my neck, I think of how much time I wasted.
I wasted 2 months trying to invent the printing press. No luck.
1 month on gunpowder. No luck.
2 months improving medical care. No luck.
4 utterly desperate months trying anything and everything: pasta, ice cream, arabic numerals, the scientific method, double entry bookkeeping, phonics. Nothing. Nada. Bupkiss. No luck.
The tenth month I got *really* desperate. And that, of course, is when I finally had some luck.
It started as informal guild meetings in a junior member's cottage.
"Fellow guildsman!" I would bellow, "Do you not see that feudalism is theft? Think of history from the expulsion from Eden until now, and what do you see? A history of:" I take a deep breath "CLASS STRUGGLE!"
I had friends in the guild, and they would make approving noises.
"It is a struggle for the fruits of our labor—no, for the THEFT of our labor! For control of the means of production! The nobles and the burghers hold the deeds and the charters—in the eyes of the law *they* own the means of production. But fellow guildsmen, look around you! Who REALLY controls the means of production?"
"WE DO!" It's more than just my friends who answer back, their shouts echoing off the cottage walls.
"Guildsmen of the world unite!" My voice cracks a little, but I don't care. I have them. "We have nothing to lose but our chains!"
And like lark in the morning, the song rises. *"Arise ye starvelings of the fiefdoms, arise ye prisoners of want!"*
A year after my arrival, I was renowned as a wise man and a prophet. "The prophet of Saint Marx and Saint Engels," they call me.
A year and a half after my arrival, the king tried to kill the revolution in its cradle. But it was too late. We had spread to too many guilds in too many countries, and even the ploughmen and the midwives hummed the *Internationale* when they thought no one was listening.
Two years after my arrival, and the last monarch of Europe fell before the Revolution's armies.
Where once the Bishops burned heretics, there we hanged the Bishops. Then the noblemen, then the parish priests, then the monks and nuns, then the burghers, and finally the guildsmen. It wasn't enough.
So here I stand, at the gallows, two years and one month after my arrival. I am to be executed for counterrevolutionary activities. Communism has swung far, far to the left of Marx, and I could not adjust fast enough. I, the first revolutionary, am now a reactionary. I could not be more proud.
Of *course* the revolution eats its children. That is how it *grows*.
I am not happy to be hanged (I tried to introduce the guillotine, but no luck), but I have few regrets. Ships are sailing west, to raise the red flag over the pyramids of the Mississippi, east to raise the class consciousness of Middle Kingdom, and south to bring the revolution to the Maghreb. In the end, I could not give them guns, or learning, or industry, or medicine. They will not need it. All they need is the dream of utopia, and the willingness to kill all who stand in its way. The revolution wasn't inevitable when I was born, but it is inevitable as I die. And I have made it so.
"Vive la revolu—" but the noose grows tight, and my story ends. | LOG ENTRY: DAY 0
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Many adulations are to be expressed about the amazing things the United States can accomplish when it puts its fifty six-sided mind on something incredible. There is, however, still something to be said about hubris.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;My name is Hugo Song, Chrononaut. I am the first person to set foot upon the past.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I am somewhere in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains where the first functioning time machine will be lit some thousand years from now. My chrono-beacon, sent before me, is by my calculations waiting approximately 900 years in the future at this exact spot. Time slippage. The gate must have stretched, turning a small step into a frightening leap, every consecutive object passing through going further and further back.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In other words, I have no way of returning home.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The sun has already fallen behind the mountains. I shall continue this log at first light. | 2015-06-23T20:01:24 | 2015-06-23T17:20:18 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] When humans arrived to the galactic scene, they thought wars would play out way differently. Instead of bloodshed, there were intergalactic video game tournaments fighting for territory. Most aliens thought humans were newbies to this but when the first war was played, they changed their minds. | *Click*, the rifle went, yelling at it's wielder to put in a new magazine. Akoi skillfully pressed the release lever, threw the empty mag on the ground, and slammed in a new one, pulling the charging handle as he brought it back up into his grip. The sound of a blade meeting flesh filled the air, and the alien crumpled at the feet of his human assailant.
"DAMMIT! These humans are fucking crazy, man!" he said, angrily taking his headset off and laying the VR wands down. "He locates me from the sound of me reloading and kills me with a knife? That is some BS!"
"Maybe you should use a plasma rifle then. No reload sound," his teammate said over the team voice chat. "I don't want to use a plasma rifle, they don't do shit!" Akoi rebutted. "We're down 3 players now. I think we're screwed."
Back in the game, the human team approached the hostage, spreading out among the three adjacent rooms.
"Alright team, they're going to have major fortifications up in the room. We breach in, we grab the hostage, then we get the hell out. Any questions?" the team leader asked rhetorically. "Good. Put your breaching charges down, and detonate them on my command." The team members followed suit. The house shook as three explosives went off at once, creating sizeable holes for the players to go through, guns ready.
"Simple, predictable tactic. They were able to get the upper hand, but that will quickly be dealt with," the leader of the alien team responded. *Beep beep beep*, the autoturret went. *Bam bam bam*, the bullets fired. *Kchunk kchunk kchunk*, they slammed through the wall. A *Beep... Beep... Beeeee...* wailed through the room as a human appeared behind the turret, cutting a wire with his knife.
"Turret is down. You guys can get in here." The player said, just before a bullet went through him and made him crumple to the floor. "Shit, Alpha is down! Get through the breach! ATK, we need you through the window now!" The leader barked orders into his headset. A team, decked from head to toe in tactical gear, stepped through the rubble and into the room. One of the windows broke, an additional player coming in through boots-first.
"Bad idea to have just a stealther and an autoturret guarding the hostage against a team with an engineer on it ," ATK taunted. "Looks like it's lights out for you." A shot fired, hitting an alien right in the head. "Alright, grab the hostage and get out. Let's roll." The team escorted the hostage out to the pickup zone.
Ripping off their VR headsets triumphantly, all five players on the human team threw their hands up in the air, yelling and celebrating. Above, displays changed: "EARTH WINS!" was displayed all around the arena. A single message was sent to the alien team: ggez.
----
Thank you for reading this! This is my second WP and I'm writing it on mobile. Sorry if it's a bit long. I'd appreciate criticism/tips! | I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/starcraft] [A writing prompt that i thought i would share here, enjoy!](https://www.reddit.com/r/starcraft/comments/8c3rfa/a_writing_prompt_that_i_thought_i_would_share/)
&nbsp;*^(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))* | 2018-04-13T20:31:45 | 2018-04-13T16:59:36 | 77 | 41 |
[WP] "You... Do know I'm about to kill you, right?" A serial killer's latest victim doesn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation.
Edit: Everyone's takes on this situation are so different and awesome. | # Connection
I smiled at him. And then I winked.
“You know I’m about kill you, right?” he said slowly, trying to seem menacing.
“Cool. How about strangulation? It’s pretty visceral for you feeling the life go out of my body, and it’ll be a new and final experience for me. Win–Win”, I replied.
He looked at me, puzzled.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun! When my hyoid bone snaps, you’ll know you’re doing it right!”
He continued to stare.
“Strangle! Strangle! Strangle!”, I chanted like I was running my own pep rally.
“I’m more of a cutter”, he said. “Actually, I’ve been taking out people’s organs and mincing them and putting them back in. There’s a symbolism to it.”
“Been eating any of the organ meat?”, I asked, showing exited curiosity.
“No” he said.
“Feeding it to the victims?”
“No”
“What about making the victims do their own surgery?”
“No”
“Wow, you’re really tame aren’t you.”
“I’ve been in the newspapers. They call me The Organ Grinder.”
“That makes me think of a guy with a monkey. Geez, surely you can do better than that. Let’s get creative, kinda make it an art project.”
“You know I’m about kill you, right?” he said again.
“Yeah, whatever, now, later, it’s a world of suffering however you look at it. Less time in this shit hole seems like a win to me.” I replied.
He looked at the ground. It wasn’t going anything like the way he was expecting, I could tell that.
“How about you make me kill someone else?”
He shook his head.
“Oh *come on*”, I said. “You never going to be remembered at this rate. Your capture technique is sloppy, your calling cards aren’t memorable, and you’re not really doing it on the whole ‘terrorize your victims’ front—you’re just going for short-lived physical pain and calling it a day. You need to think bigger.”
An hour later, we were still talking. We had a plan.
“Want some food?”, I asked, “I make a mean breakfast”.
“I need to keep you tied up”
“Said the priest to the choirboy!”, I laughed. “Suit yourself, but you’re missing out and it’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
He was wary of course, when he untied me. But as I made breakfast and chatted cheerily, he began to relax. After breakfast, I cleared away the dishes.
“You should tie me up again”, I said.
“Doesn’t seem like a lot of point, if you’re into it.”
“Oh come on, I’m the victim! I could be trying to fight back?”
“Doesn’t seem likely at his point”, he replied.
“Oh I totally could. Look, uh, how about this knife, it’s not very sharp, but it might work.”
I tottered around holding the knife, pantomiming idiocy.
He laughed at my foolishness.
“Look at you!“ I said, smiling. “You have a really cute smile. It’s good to see you happy.”
I stepped forward, tilting my head.
He should never have let me get so close holding a kitchen knife. He should never have believed me. He looked so surprised, so hurt and betrayed.
I kept smiling.
“There there, love”, I said, “It’s all right now. I’ll hold you. It’ll be over soon.”
| Some people call me Hannibal,
I'm a mothafuckin cannibal,
As for you, you're Hannah Montanable,
Don't you know you're talking to an animal?
I'm gonna cut you like an antelope,
Split your head in like a cantaloupe,
You're just nodding, smiling, catatonic,
Not even listening, bitch are you on chronic?
Can you read these words, d'you need Hooked On Phonics?
Are you some kind of mannequin, are you bionic?
See this screwdriver? You're about to be on it!
You're just humming and smiling, damn, it's ironic
Your life's last moments and you ain't payin' attention,
Your last words won't even get an honorable mention,
I'll kill in person, don't even need henchmen,
You're so oblivious, are you even sentient?
You ought'a be begging, your ass ought'a be clenchin',
You're the star of my horror film and you don't even feel tension!
| 2015-04-29T09:50:37 | 2015-04-29T08:28:18 | 72 | 18 |
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once. | “OK! Everyone, your attention.” The teacher shouted as she entered the class. “We have a new student joining us today. I would like you all to give a warm welcome to Jacob.”
There was a student standing behind her, his presence was weak, almost imperceptible. She continued, “Jacob, why don't you introduce yourself.”
Jacob stood there silently and a cocky smile appeared, “You can call me Jake. I recently became a supe. But I'm looking forward to working with you all.”
“That’s great Jake. Why don't you tell them your powers and weaknesses so they better cooperate with you.”
Jake was taken by surprise. "What? Why? Wouldn't exposing my weakness- I mean I thought…That was supposed to be a secret like my Identity?”
The class broke out into laughter. Even the teacher couldn't help but chuckle. “Silly. Jacob. You are already using your real name. As for the rest, it's all concepts from the past. No one hides anything any more.”
“Why?” Jake couldn't help but ask.
“Oh!” a boy in the class shouted, “He’s an accident!”
“Excuse me!” Jake glared.
The teacher rested her hand on his shoulder calming him, “He meant no harm. You're starting mid semester. He just figured out whether you were an accident, someone who gained powers from a mishap. Or an inheritor, who was passed knowledge and power. Those are the ones that tend to join mid semester. As for why you must share.”
Jake caught the teacher quickly glancing at the scarred boy in the back before turning her gaze to a girl up front, “Lucy, would you mind explaining the recent law change?”
He noticed Lucy too wished to glance at the back but swallowed back her courage.”New ordinance, Civilian Oversight of Supers. As civilians out number supes 100 to 1. Yet supes cause 89% of all grand crimes and damages a law was passed to record all supers powers and weaknesses for public safety. Unregistered supes that are captured are castrated and lobotomized to minimize risk to the populace.”
“I should inform you I am a mandatory reporter if you would refuse to share.” The teacher said with a smile.
“My power- I am a ghost. My weakness is attention. “Jake quickly blurted out.
“Good. Welcome to the #1 hero highschool. Lucy, show him around when you have a chance. And a reminder to the rest of you. Next period is a battle lesson and it happens to be a test week. Take this period to review and warm up. I’ll see you in an hour.” With that the teacher exited the class. Many of the students ignored Jake as if he wasn't there, and left as well.
“Where is everyone going?” Jake asked in confusion.
“The gym.” Lucy answered standing beside him.
“Why?”
“Battle lessons and more importantly testing. Most likely because of you. Otherwise the next test isnt due for 2 months. We should get going as well. They lock the gym before class and if we arent there we fail. We can talk on the way.”
“Wait. You're Lucy. Right?”
“Yes, and before you ask. I'm a super genius and my weakness is obsessive compulsion.” Lucy volunteered.
“It's weird such a law would exist.” Jake said.
“Not really. The only reason you don't know it is because of your coma. Accidents tend to be in recovery for a while. The shortest recorded was 9 months and the longest 50 years. You slept through the incident. And before you ask you can look it up online it went viral.”
“What did?”
“I told you not to ask. A bullying incident.” She glanced at the boy in the back.
“Sorry. So what happened?”
“You're an asshole.” Lucy glared. “Fine but not here, follow me.”
She quickly ran out of the room after glancing at the boy one last time.
“Wait for me!” Jake shouted running after her. They ran through the halls all the way to the gym Stopping just before entering. They fought to catch their breath. Jake asked, “Who’s he?”
“That’s Jon. He was the victim of the incident.” Lucy said clearly, understanding what he wanted to know. She checked her surroundings before continuing, “I'm on thin ice as it is.”
“Why?”
“I- I’m partially responsible for it.” Lucy said clearly seeing the want in Jake's eyes she added, “He bested me last year in our first battle lesson test. I didn't like it so I sought information. I hacked the school and discovered he was a normie.”
“I didn't think the #1 school took in trained heroes.”
“They don't. Not normal ones anyway. He’s royalty, he’s Justin Times and Lady Liberties’ son.”
“Wait, he's the son of the number 1 and 6 heroes. But I heard they died saving the world years ago.”
“Yes but stipulation was to be enrolled here the country takes care of those that take care of it. Anyway, do you want to know what happened or what?”
“Yeah. I'm just surprised he’s a normie. It's rare that two heroes have a normal child.”
“1 in 1000000000000.” Lucy answered before continuing. “Anyway. I informed the former vice principal's son of what he was. They were always supes first if you know what i mean. Jon informed teachers but it was always swept under the rug. But Jon was cunning and patient, scary stuff. The torture he indured. Well he recorded it secretly posting it on anti supe boards all to rile them up. Only for the live stream, the incident. Every day after school he was tortured he set up a live stream to show what happened. Even let those watching know whose son he was. It wasn't long before nearly everyone in the country saw what happened. Most of the staff was fired last year. Jon even helped protest and pitch the Civilian Oversight of Supers act. He’s the most dangerous student here. Battle lessons are going to start soon. I need to warm up. We both need to change. What weapon do you use?”
“None. I- My fist i guess.”
“If you draw him in the fight, surrender.”
“Why?”
“Jon was a normal raised by the best heroes of the last generation. His super theory is even better than mine. He’s one of the most skilled hand to hand. As well his weapons… Each one coincides with weakness. He uses pistols with bullets made of weakness and knives meant to kill supes. Don't try to fight him. He will do what supes have done to him. To you.” | Melissa Odinson strided through the halls as if her four foot four statute was the tallest in the school. The other students stepped aside if for no reason that admiration of the mundane human's confidence.
"Melissa, wait!" Jennifer Knight caught up to her breathing heavily as she strided next to her, "Why do you have to walk so fast?"
"Because the world is waiting for me and I don't want to rude." Melissa responded.
"I find that hard to believe." Jennifer smiled. "In fact, you being polite is a disturbing thought."
Melissa turned on her friend, "What you trying to say."
In response a perky laugh came from a perky girl, "She's saying you belong in zoo, and I agree."
"What? No." Jennifer tried to correct the girl, "I was-"
"Who the hell are you!" Melissa shouted, "and long do you want me to knock your lights out for!"
"Oh I'm terrified." The girl stepped up and curtsyed, "Elizabeth Blugem, of the Blugem family."
"Never heard of you." Melissa said back.
"We've lead the charge in enchantment development for hundreds of years." Elizabeth flipped her blonde hair.
"And then you came along. Must be disappointing." Melissa popped off against the protest of Jennifer.
"What was that?" Elizabeth scowled. "You think you just insult me, you little mundane brat."
Elizabeth waved a finger and wisps of blue light filled the air. Melissa shouted in surprise as she was lifted into the air.
"Wow, you're barely weight anything!" Elizabeth laughed until Melissa planted a foot directly into her face, "You little, two bit bit-"
Melissa trackled her to the ground started throwing punches. Elizabeth summoned a shield to stop the small but powerful blows and sent a wave of power to knock Melissa off. The petite girl slammed into the locker and slumped to the floor.
"Melissa!" Jennifer kneeled down checking for injuries.
"Ah, the mutant girl is worried about her mundane pet." Elizabeth laughed again, "Or is it the other way around?"
Jennifer tried to talk the girl but wasn't able to say much before Melissa rushed her yelling "Fuck you!"
Another bout of punches and spell was traded between them before they interrupted of a figure hoist them both up into the air.
"No fighting in the hall!" Ms. Steinfaust slammed the two girls' heads together in an audible crack before dropping. "Detention. Both of you. Now get to class."
"Or what!" Melissa said already recovered and picking another fight. "Who gonna make me?"
"No! Absolutely not!" Jennifer grabbed Melissa by the shirt pulled her away, "You are not starting a fight with Ms. Stienfaust. Thank you Ms. Stienfaust. Come on!"
"Wait!" Melissa tried to protest as she was hauled through the hauled by taller and apparently much stronger friend. They eventually stop when they finally got to the classroom. She pouted in her seat. "I wasn't scared."
"I know. That's the problem." Jennifer sighed, "I understand why you have to pick a fight with everything that even looks at you funny."
"Simple." Melissa lifted her chin in aimless defiance, "I don't know any other way to live. I lived on the street for all my life and I only survived because I always hit before I got hit. Never back down, never give up. Always do right, always look left."
"Always look left?"
"Yeah, always look left! Most attacks come from the left."
"They do?"
"Yeah they do! So you gotta always look left."
"Okay okay" Jennifer smiled to placate her friend. Just then a boy came in the room and looked over them.
"Hey, short stuff!" He snapped a finger gun, "Saw you popped that spell slinger in the face. Respect."
Melissa just nodded and lifted her chin high. She was the only mundane student in the whole school filled with every flavor demihuman, but that didn't stop her acting like she was biggest, baddest fucker around, because as far she was concerned, she fucking was. | 2022-11-02T14:52:39 | 2022-11-02T14:18:58 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why. | Bloggs knew he wasn't exactly book-smart, but he'd been around the villain scene in Bayview City for longer than most villains. He'd henched and minioned for more villains than most (the difference between one and the other was in the dental plan), and once even had a brief stint as a sidekick for a particularly shady vigilante. In the process, he'd picked up an unparalleled knowledge of the Bayview underworld, as seamy and rife with corruption as it might be.
His reputation was second to none for the minutiae of villainous life, if he did say so himself. If someone wanted a specialty costume sourced, a lair arranged (also ensuring that it didn't encroach on an existing one) or dirty cops identified, it was him they went to. He had the broadest range of contacts, snitches, info-brokers and scallywags at his fingertips of anyone in the 'View.
However, with all that, he wasn't a young man. The physical stuff really wasn't his thing, and it hadn't been for quite some time. If a villain wanted a city councilman blackmailed, they came to him; if they wanted the guy beaten up, they went elsewhere. He was fine with that; 'thug' wasn't something he wanted on his resume. A man had his pride, after all.
Which meant that sometimes, even a man of his talents might hit a little dry spell. When the heroes had been busy and most of his usual employers were enjoying the hospitality of the iron bar hotel, he found himself down on his luck. So when a newcomer villain to the city made him an offer of employment, he accepted.
Bloodbound was not the sort of villain Bloggs would normally have hired out to, but money was money, and sometimes a man had to hold his nose if he wanted to get by. It would only be for a short time, he reasoned; someone like Bloodbound was guaranteed to make the sort of enemies that didn't allow for a long career. Sooner rather than later, if he was any judge. But in the meantime, Bloggs would be there to keep him from making too many screwups, right up until a better prospect came along.
Three weeks in, Bloggs was starting to wonder if he was going to last. He'd worked for some of the big names (and small names) in the business, but Bloodbound was an *impatient* sonova. Also, when he came to Bayview, Bloodbound hadn't counted on the lack of villains raising the relative number of heroes per villain, and thus decreasing the average response time to a heist. Which meant that after two jewellery store jobs and an abortive bank hit, they'd barely made rent money for the low-end lair Bloggs had located for him.
Bloodbound was especially irate at having been forced to flee both stores and break off from the bank robbery when heroes intruded on the scene. Bloggs had arranged for exit strategies from all three, which the man had followed. This was about the only thing that *had* gone to plan. Bloggs was finding it harder and harder to keep him in check. This was not helped by the fact that the man was taking the interference of the heroes personally, rather than accepting it as a fact of life. *Villains gotta villain, heroes gotta hero.*
He had a good villain's pace, and he wasn't bad at monologuing, but as Bloggs had already noted, his attitude needed work. "This is bullshit!" he ranted, stamping back and forth within the moderately cramped lair. "How's a man supposed to build a reputation when those goddamn heroes won't get off my goddamn case?"
"They're *heroes,* boss," Bloggs said in his best reasoning-with-the-boss tone. "It's kinda what they do."
"Well, fine." Bloodbound clenched his fist and the razor spurs that gave him his name slid from his knuckles. "Maybe we should give them a reason not to." He turned to Bloggs, his eyes going hard. "You've been doing this for a long time. If anyone knows where the heroes hang up their capes, it would be you."
"Well, I wouldn't say as how I *know,"* Bloggs prevaricated. "Heroes are pretty good at keepin' secrets, just like villains."
"But you could make some pretty good guesses, right?" Bloodbound's expression was animated now. "And all we'd have to do is pay some of them a midnight visit, maybe cut up a kid or two, and the next time they see me, they'll run in the other direction." He flexed his forearm muscles, and more blades slid into place. "Bloodbound is going to be a *name* in this town."
"No, wait, see, this is not a good move, boss," Bloggs said. "Going after families? We don't do that."
Bloodbound rolled his eyes. "No, you mean *you* don't do it. That's because you're all a bunch of pussies in this town. Scared to do what a man's gotta do to make his mark."
"Mebbe not," Bloggs said. "You haven't been in town long. You never heard of Charnel, or RazorEdge, or Gothikon, did you?"
"Nope. Should I have?" Bloodbound tilted his head. "Fuck it , should I even care?"
"Probably." Bloggs stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. "They came to town a few years back. Not all at once, you understand. Each of 'em thought they had it figured out. Each one figured he'd cracked the code. They went after the families, to put the fear of God into the heroes. Each one found out why he shouldn't have."
"What, the heroes came after them?" sneered Bloodbound, shaking his head. "Arrested, chucked in jail, bust out in a few months? Big fat hairy deal."
"Nope." Bloggs shook his head. "Charnel was the first. He tried to kidnap Paragon's kid, but botched it. The kid died. Paragon ... snapped. Tore Charnel apart with his bare hands, then went after every villain in town. Beat most of them bloody, maimed a few of them. Then he retired. Left town. Took months before another costumed villain showed his face in Bayview."
"Well, shit." Bloodbound shook his head. "But Paragon isn't here anymore. He's a long way away from Bayview City. We don't have to worry about him if we do this."
"That's true." Bloggs leaned against the wall. "We don't have to worry about him. That's what RazorEdge and Gothikon thought, too. They were going to go after families, after kids. But the other villains found out."
"And what'd *they* do?" sneered Bloodbound. "Clutched their pearls?"
"We couldn't risk another Paragon," Bloggs said. From his jacket pocket, he pulled a snub-nosed Magnum. He wasn't one for the physical stuff, but that wasn't to say he was *bad* at it. Neither was he one to shrink from what needed to be done. "None of us could." He straight-armed the firearm at Bloodbound. "That's why the villains killed 'em. We didn't need the heat from the heroes."
"You wouldn't fucking--"
Bloggs fired. The shot racketed out in the room, and the bullet took his erstwhile employer in the left eye. Brains sprayed across the far wall as the hollowpoint round blew out the back of Bloodbound's skull. The villain crumpled, the word *dare* unspoken on his lips.
Bloggs stood looking down at him, then put the pistol away again. "You'd be surprised what I'd dare." Then he looked at the spray of blood and brains across the wall and grimaced. It wasn't going to be cheap getting that cleaned off, but he knew a guy.
Fortunately, the same guy also dealt with inconvenient bodies. Bayview City was good like that. | Windstrike is the coolest super hero in the world that's just a fact. No battles lost, no scandals of any type -he even denunced the bigot president during his term, that took balls!- which is why I wanted to do it.
There's only a few of unwritten rules for us criminals but if you must know one this is it: "Don't go after the loved ones of the heroes" it has never sit right with me I mean granted we barely know their real identities but if you ask me its a sure way to enter the villans hall of fame, and for someone like me with limited options I need to explore any chances.
I have inmortality but only decided to be a Villan a few years ago (I was wasting myself as test dummy) not an useful power to attack but it does ensure I'll come up from a fight alive, that along with the hate from the biggest hero will put me on the map.
I can see it now "The Dealer" associated with the respect I deserve, So when they announced that they were going to trap the heroes on their own hall in an all out attack I though at best they'll keep them busy for an hour maybe 2 (it all depends on how bored its Vampire, that annoying know it all)while I pay a visit to Matt, see I have been observing Windstrike for a few months now and I know he keeps close tabs on him and I just know this is going to change my life
-hello- he smiles as he opens the door, my gun already pointed I wanted to shoot him but I stopped I need to make sure he calls for help -oh... never seen you before -I sight I want to shoot him again- oh yes Dealer, correct? -
-The dealer- I'm kind of happy that he knows my name, but annoyed that he forgot the article, it keeps it classy, he smiles and lets me in, smart boy, inside there's a group of of people... a party? I was not expecting company
-Hi guys, The dealer- he smiles at me while he says it, god I hate this - is here- Shannon did you know he was comming?- a Woman looks at and squints
-never seen him before, Duke hardly ever talks about C tiers- Matt is still smiling, more people start staring, I decide to put a end to this I point my gun at the fridge and shoot, it implodes (Molecular it's very good at guns I'll give him that but his prices are crazy) everyone stares at me and I smile I finally got their attention they finally understand why am I here.
-Honey, you're going to have to pay for that, at least it'll be cheaper than that gun you got from my son- says an older woman while vaping then turns the man next to him and resumes her conversation as if I havent just desintegrated a fucking fridge
-Listen! You're all my hostages... and did you just said your son?- I turn to the Woman, violet eyes same as the ones who sold me the gun - what the fuck?
-Language, son- says the man next to her, their hands locked- yes Molecular is our son-
-And why are you here with him? Do you know who he is?- I point at Matt he is still smiling i think he took a xanax, no one can be that happy
-Windstrike's boyfriend- says a blonde with a giggle
-fiance- corrects Shannon -and we still needs to finish everything for the party tonigh you are going to have to move, we need a new fridge now, I'm so happy that Duke is bringing the cake later or you'll be in trouble-
-who the fuck is Duke?!- Molecular's parents look at me disapprovingly
-Darkness- responds the Blonde matter of factly
-shit!- Windstrike might be the greatest hero on earth but Darkness is our top villan, suddenly it hits me- I think i need to sit
- oh you got it, it seems- says shannon smiling -you came here to break the rule-
-The Rule- Matt says with a chuckle
-did you even took your introductory course when you joined?
-there's a course?- the strain in my voice, I wish I could do something about it, Shannon sights
- you see... long ago we decided that we were tired of being killed by the odd villan or hero with loose morals so we (the families of both factions) all sat down and decided that we were all going to be friends, they all hate it-
-but they love us more- interrupts the blonde raising her glass
-so at least you want every super powered people on the planet behind you I'll calm down and go and get Matt a new fridge, as for the gun Linda can get you your money back-
-No refunds dear-
-well I'm still taking the gun, I'm sure Duke has a docen of this, say is windstrike even weak againts this? - Matt mimics a key locking his lips - whatever-
I look around, my greatest plan (only plan) defeated even before it started
-oh don't feel bad The dealer, play your cards right and we can let you in the group, I'm sure we can convice them, we do need an errand boy- Matt winks at me -at the very least we wont ask them to kill you- he is no longer smiling, I just hope I have enough money for the fridge | 2020-07-12T12:20:22 | 2020-07-12T11:05:58 | 64 | 10 |
[WP] As an immortal, you stopped celebrating your birthday centuries or millennia ago. Your young daughter wants to throw you a birthday party and your newest wife (who knows you're immortal) loves the idea. The only problem is, you have no idea how old you are or when your birthday is. | Something funny happened today....
For the first time in a very long time, my wife told me that our daughter wanted to throw me a birthday party. She's still so young but her personality makes me feel a warmth i thought I'd forgotten. I haven't celebrated my birthday since....you know i can't even remember when was the last time i celebrated my birthday. If im being honest i cant even remember how old i am or when it is; immortality isn't as memorable as some would think. There was a knock on the door
"Come in"
"Hi Daddy"
"Hey mini me"
For someone with a dad who doesnt smile alot, my daughter loves to smile, but not today.
Usually she runs up to me to give a hug; she walked up and stood in front of me
Okay now i know somethings wrong.
"Whats wrong Jessy"
She looked at me with sad eyes. Usually she looks at me like im the only person in the world when were together; right now shes looking at me likes shes never seen me before
"Daddy, do you love me?"
Well, thats a stupid question i thought
"Of course I do. You're my mini me!"
She stared at me, scared to open her mouth again
"Where you from daddy?"
Well....fuck i thought
I knew she'd ask me one day but this is a little out the blue. If this were any other person i would just tell them an obscure town in a small country. But not Jessica. For as long as i can remember my life was filled with darkness until Leah and Jessica came into my life. Leah, my first wife or at least the only one i remember. I've lived a long time but leah, she's special. I looked at our daughter and decided to tell her the truth.
"I don't know....or should i say i forgot"
Her face changed from gloom to gleam and i knew i was going to get bombarded by questions only a seven year old could think of.
"Forgot?"
"Yeah. You know your daddy is an old man"
"You aren't old daddy. Grandpa and grandma are old"
"Well, your daddy is a different type of old. Say, Mini Me, why are you so curious about daddy all of a sudden?"
Her face changed again
She put her face down
"...in class...the teacher asked us to say where im from and where my parents are from....and when it was my turn...i didn't know where you were from."
"Jess you kno-"
"And then stupid emily richards said that since i didn't know where my daddy was from that you don't love me and that you don't exist and that...and that...."
She started crying and these feelings and memories of a life i had once forgotten came back.
"Well Jess, you do know your daddy. Because i didnt forget where i came from. So tell emily that not only does your daddy love you but you're also able to tell when your daddy is lying"
She smiled and looked at me like only she does
"Im from somewhere far away, it was a beautiful place filled with wonderful animals and beautiful trees. I loved it there..."
"Why did you leave daddy?"
"Well i left because i was kicked out by my daddy"
"YOUR DADDY KICKED YOU OUT?"
"yeah....well, daddy deserved it. I broke his heart and did something i wasn't supposed to"
"Does your daddy not love you anymore?"
"A daddy never stops loving his mini me"
"Did you say sorry?"
"Yeah, i did, a lot.....sometimes mini me, a daddy will do things to teach his child a lesson even if they are sorry"
"Why?"
"Because....sometimes being sorry isnt enough, sometimes in order for a mini me to learn their lesson they have to take time and reflect on what they did. Imagine if daddy broke your favorite toy and i said sorry but i never bought you a toy to replace it"
"Oh, i get it...kinda"
"Its alright mini me you dont have to get it yet."
I heard leah from downstairs
"Dr. Evil...Mini Me, its time for dinner"
Alright jess you get one more question before we go eat.
"Hmmmmmm..."
She looked up in shock
"Whats your name daddy? Mommy said that you dont use your real name because if you did it would make a lot of people angry"
"Well i go by a lot of names, some good and some bad, but you, my dear mini me, can call me adam"
(Side note this is my first time writing a short story but i hope you enjoyed it and thanks for reading :)) | Though the barrage of time leaves my body untouched, the mind is not infinite. I may not remember everything, but I'll always remember that.
Guinevere, my darling wife. We first met on the beaches of Sicily. Her soul truly connected with mine and for the first time in a millennium, I felt alive again. Three years later, we were married. A year after that, our daughter was born. We named her Rebecca. I would have chosen an older name, but Guin protested. She wished not to inflict her childhood torment for her unusual name on anybody else.
I admit, perhaps with some shame, that I had hoped Rebecca would carry my curse. Immortality means little when anybody you share it with is temporary. Guinevere, for all her perfection, carries the unfortunate fault of being mortal. She will die, and I will not. Unfortunately, it seems Rebecca, too, shall meet the same fate.
It may seem irrelevant to regale you with this, but it all leads to an important point. Though I cannot die, I spent much of my existence without living. Now, I choose to live for them. To fill their lives, however fleeting, with whatever joy that I can. So when Rebecca requested to host a birthday party in my honour, how could I refuse?
There is, unfortunately, a rather large setback to this: I no longer remember when or where I was born. The mind is not infinite. I may not remember everything, but I'll always remember that.
When is the furthest back I can remember?
I remember the Black Death. Henry the 8th. The Hundred Year War. Edward the Confessor. But there are also holes in my memory. I fail to recall my childhood, my parents, the place in which I was raised. Sometimes, for a second or two, I don't even remember what I had for breakfast.
A beautiful woman sits by my side. A small girl is pleading with me. "*Daddy, please tell me!*" she asks, playfully. "*When's your birthday?*". For a moment, I don't recognise them.
The mind is not infinite. I may not remember everything, but I'll always remember that. | 2019-09-08T11:32:03 | 2019-09-08T11:12:51 | 233 | 137 |
[WP] When humans arrived to the galactic scene, they thought wars would play out way differently. Instead of bloodshed, there were intergalactic video game tournaments fighting for territory. Most aliens thought humans were newbies to this but when the first war was played, they changed their minds. | *Click*, the rifle went, yelling at it's wielder to put in a new magazine. Akoi skillfully pressed the release lever, threw the empty mag on the ground, and slammed in a new one, pulling the charging handle as he brought it back up into his grip. The sound of a blade meeting flesh filled the air, and the alien crumpled at the feet of his human assailant.
"DAMMIT! These humans are fucking crazy, man!" he said, angrily taking his headset off and laying the VR wands down. "He locates me from the sound of me reloading and kills me with a knife? That is some BS!"
"Maybe you should use a plasma rifle then. No reload sound," his teammate said over the team voice chat. "I don't want to use a plasma rifle, they don't do shit!" Akoi rebutted. "We're down 3 players now. I think we're screwed."
Back in the game, the human team approached the hostage, spreading out among the three adjacent rooms.
"Alright team, they're going to have major fortifications up in the room. We breach in, we grab the hostage, then we get the hell out. Any questions?" the team leader asked rhetorically. "Good. Put your breaching charges down, and detonate them on my command." The team members followed suit. The house shook as three explosives went off at once, creating sizeable holes for the players to go through, guns ready.
"Simple, predictable tactic. They were able to get the upper hand, but that will quickly be dealt with," the leader of the alien team responded. *Beep beep beep*, the autoturret went. *Bam bam bam*, the bullets fired. *Kchunk kchunk kchunk*, they slammed through the wall. A *Beep... Beep... Beeeee...* wailed through the room as a human appeared behind the turret, cutting a wire with his knife.
"Turret is down. You guys can get in here." The player said, just before a bullet went through him and made him crumple to the floor. "Shit, Alpha is down! Get through the breach! ATK, we need you through the window now!" The leader barked orders into his headset. A team, decked from head to toe in tactical gear, stepped through the rubble and into the room. One of the windows broke, an additional player coming in through boots-first.
"Bad idea to have just a stealther and an autoturret guarding the hostage against a team with an engineer on it ," ATK taunted. "Looks like it's lights out for you." A shot fired, hitting an alien right in the head. "Alright, grab the hostage and get out. Let's roll." The team escorted the hostage out to the pickup zone.
Ripping off their VR headsets triumphantly, all five players on the human team threw their hands up in the air, yelling and celebrating. Above, displays changed: "EARTH WINS!" was displayed all around the arena. A single message was sent to the alien team: ggez.
----
Thank you for reading this! This is my second WP and I'm writing it on mobile. Sorry if it's a bit long. I'd appreciate criticism/tips! | Stardate 4832 : Earth Date 2006
What is a 'Youtube...Guild Wars?' what is this...?
Stardate 4842 : Earth Date 2011
'Star Wars: Old Republic? The humans already have space craft?
Stardate 4847 : Earth Date 2016
'Today the earthlings have, without their planet knowing, defeated the most formidable strategists in this quadrant...the Graxivity...their children have 'griefed' our bases, slaughtered our clans and have made some code to us concerning their utter annihilation of our forces...'
We are still deciphering this 'GG' of which they have given us...' | 2018-04-13T20:31:45 | 2018-04-13T18:30:17 | 77 | 35 |
[WP]: Suddenly, everyone with tattoos gains powers related to the tattoo. Tattoos of flames, you control fire. A tattoo of a gecko, you can climb on walls. All dudes with "tribal" tattoos have strangely bonded together. | Another day, another struggle to adjust to this new world thrust upon us.
I wake up and go through my morning routine. I’ve got class in an hour and a half. While brushing my teeth, I look at my four-leaf clover tattoo on my wrist; I thank God every day that I have this thing. It is undoubtedly the only reason I’m still alive.
I head out of my apartment, onto the busy streets of San Francisco. I put in my Apple Airpods (due to the luck provided by my tattoo, I found a brand spankin’ new pair just sitting on my porch the other day!). I close my eyes and listen to some of my favorite rappers, but I can’t help but grow sadder and sadder as my walk progresses. All the rappers with teardrop tattoos can’t stop crying these days. They’ve stopped making music. All the songs saved on my Spotify are throwbacks. Its tragic.
Honestly, ever since our tattoos began to affect our reality, nothing’s been the same. I look to my left, and a person who had a bible verse tattooed on his chest can now turn water into wine. Ironically, statistics show cases of alcoholism have spiked in numbers.
I look to my right, and someone with their ex’s name tattooed on their wrist is now forever unable to move on from the relationship, forever stuck in despair.
But I tell ya, nothing’s worse than the people who had random Chinese or Japanese symbols tattooed on them. They’re wild cards, but one thing is certain: none of them speak English anymore. The suddenly-imposed language barrier is tearing families apart.
It’s utter chaos, but we’ll figure it out.
Anyway, I get to class, having to shimmy through a crowd of tribal tat tribesmen to enter the building. Unfortunately I made eye contact with one of them for too long, but due to the immense luck provided by my clover tattoo, his own primitive rage backfired on him and sent his sorry ass into cardiac arrest. Luck of the Irish!
I make my way to my seat. I always sit in the back corner of the room. But as soon as I can see my chair, it becomes all too clear to me that it is taken. Not one to accept such disrespect, I pick up the pace, ready to beat the shit out of this dickhead for taking the seat I’ve been sitting in all semester. With my luck, it’s near impossible to lose fights, so you’d best believe I was ready to throw down. Plus, in a world as fucked up as ours, asserting your dominance is key.
But I stopped.
Maybe it was my luck, but something told me I should check to see if this guy’s got any tattoos. I may be lucky, but I’m not invincible. So I slow down my walk, my eyes still fixed on the seat thief. I check him out from bottom to top, and when my eyes reach his left hand, they widen. On the back of the hand he’s got all 6 Infinity Stones tatted. I notice his shirt is a black graphic tee, with the original Infinity War comic book cover on it. At this point, my pants are soiled. He looks me in the eye, challenging me to say something. I don’t.
I’ll find another seat. | Crime rates exploded when the ink activated in our bodies. Those who didn’t have tattoos before tried getting one so they could have a power of their own, but it didn’t work; so they took to belittling us, making us all out to be criminals. And what did I do? I did what any sane person would do, I hid. But even years after the ink activated the crime rates where still soaring, the people with tattoos where the only ones who could fight people with tattoos, but law enforcement was not willing to hire anyone with a tattoo. So I put on a mask and showed my tattoos and fought those criminals myself. And the stigma began to change. Because I was a hero, why couldn’t the people like me be heroes too? All it took was one person doing the right thing. | 2019-05-07T07:58:02 | 2019-05-07T07:52:07 | 1,719 | 43 |
[WP] A 16-year-old schoolgirl is taken to a magical world. She slays a dragon, becomes queen, gets married, has kids, and dies 90 years later...only to wake up back at school, young and in her school uniform again, like nothing happened. She notices that her wedding ring is still on her finger. | "Don't go, g'g'gramma!" The seven-year-old flung himself onto the bedclothes, hugging Bellajoan tightly. "Want you to read stories!"
She smiled tiredly as she patted him on the head. Everything tired her now. She couldn't get out of bed without help, and even raising her voice left her out of breath. "There, there, Alexei," she murmured. "It's all right. Great-great-grandma is just going to a better place, that's all."
"Still wish you weren't, though." That was Arabella, her older great-grandchild, sixteen and going through a sullen phase. She'd showed up though, along with the rest of them. "You're the best great-great-grandmother we could've had. Everyone else wants us to be quiet and marry some merchant and have babies, but you told us we could do *anything."*
"And so you can." Bellajoan's eyesight was dimming, but she could still make out the dragon skull that had been made over into a low table in the middle of the room. That had been a hard fight, in her long-ago youth, terrified and with no idea what was happening to her. "You are what you want to be, not what someone else tells you to be."
"But when you go, they'll start telling us that again," said Kendrick, fourteen and gangling, with a lute hanging down his back. "I don't *want* to be a man at arms. I want to be a minstrel."
"It's not my job to stand over you forever," Bellajoan reminded them. "Your parents know my wishes concerning you. Ask them if they really want to anger my shade enough to make me come back. After all, I sprang from a world of wonders. Who's to say I won't return once more, if I'm needed?" She was only half-joking. Ninety years on from her emergence into the world of Aarde, which she now called home, the theoretical thaumaturgists were still trying to determine the exact confluence of events that had dumped her into Aarde, possessed of supernatural strength and the will to slay a rampaging dragon.
She had parlayed that into the title of King's Champion and a seat on the Council of Nobles, and from there had found herself the chosen heir when the king died childless. When the almost inevitable civil war had erupted, she had personally faced down and defeated the champions of each of the rebellious nobles.
It had been a long and tumultuous life, finding love and raising her own family while ruling the kingdom, but she would not have missed a moment of it. And now at the end of it, she could look back and say she was content.
Alexei was still sobbing, so she drew him up into her arms. "How about one last story?" she asked. "And then you'll let me sleep?"
Tearfully, he nodded. She ran her hand fondly through his already dishevelled hair, and drew a deep breath to begin.
"Once upon a time, there was a young girl, about Arabella's age, who lived in a wondrous and far-off land called Earth."
Despite his sadness, Alexei giggled. "That's a silly name for a land."
"Yes, it is," Bellajoan said with a smile, "but the people who lived there did not know that. This girl, whose name was Bella too, tried to be nice to everyone, but there were others in her school who would push and shove her, and take her books away."
"Wait, this is school, like you've been having us do?" asked Kendrick. Arabella shushed him.
"Yes, yes it is." Bellajoan felt herself fading, growing lighter. She pushed herself to continue the story. "One day, when she was in class, she felt a strange pull. When she closed her eyes and opened them again, she was in Aarde, and there was a dragon in front of her. A knight lay dead at her feet, and his sword was at his hand. The dragon roared at her, and she was very frightened, so she picked up the sword. Then she--"
"I know! I know!" interrupted Alexei. "She killed the dragon, didn't she? Just like you did!"
"Yes, she did, dear one," whispered Bellajoan. "She did. And in time she became queen and lived happily ever after."
The last few words came out in one breath. She did not have the strength to draw another. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and did not open again. Everything slowed to a stop.
Gently, she felt her soul lifting from her body. *So this is what death is like.*
\*\*\*\*
Something bounced off the back of her head, and her eyes jerked open. "Wake up, Jones! Hey, Mr Smith! Bella's asleep in class again!"
Puzzled and disoriented, she stared around herself. Children wearing clothes that triggered long-faded memories, laughing faces, neatly arranged wooden desks of an oddly familiar pattern ...
An adult stood up from behind a larger desk at the front of the room, with a huge green board behind him. *Green ...* she thought. *Shouldn't it be black? A black ... board?*
"Miss Jones," the adult said in tones of sarcasm. "Am I boring you?"
*Jones? Joan? Is that me?* It had been so long, nine decades past, that she honestly couldn't remember. But everyone was looking at her.
*I died. I am dead. Is this Heaven? Or one of the Hells?* It was certainly starting to seem like the latter.
Staring at her hands in front of her, she realised two things: one, they were the hands of a girl once more. The skin was smooth, and free of wrinkles and liver spots. But on her left hand ... the ring her true love Garan had slid onto her finger over eighty years ago when they were wed. The ring she had never removed since, even when he finally passed at the venerable age of ninety, two decades previously. Wonderingly, she slid it from her finger.
(continued) | Caroline looked around her. Her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren were all gathered around the foot of her bed. They knew she was entering her last days, but she had not officially chosen her heir.
“Mum, who do you want to take your place?” Alice, her oldest child, asked.
Caroline had been thinking about this problem long and hard. She had been the first queen this land had seen in centuries. She also knew that a new adventurer could come to this world, and that it would be easy for them to usurp her family. The people of this world held great devotion to the beast-slayers, and that would trounce any royal bloodlines.
“For the immediate preservation of the kingdom, as eldest, you will manage the day-to-day activities,” Caroline said. “You and your siblings will form a council, and rule until my heir makes themselves apparent.” Then she spoke up to address the room. “But all of you are of the royal blood. Sirocco will need a new leader who can command the respect of the people and maintain the peace for generations to come. As such, my heir will be the one who slays the Troll of the Windpeak.”
Her family gasped. The Troll of the Windpeak had eluded beast-slayers for generations. But none of them had time to protest, because as she made this proclamation, Caroline breathed the last breath she would breathe in Sirocco.
Rather than moving on to the afterlife like she had expected to do, Caroline woke up in a plaid skirt and blue blazer.
“Lynne, are you paying attention?” a sharp voice asked.
“Sorry, didn’t get much sleep last night,” she mumbled, annoyed that she had been woken up from the beautiful daydream. It had felt so real, and so *long*. How could a whole lifetime fit into one biology class?
“Stand up if you need to,” the teacher said. “But please try to stay awake.”
Caroline didn’t stand up. The sharp return to school was enough to temporarily confuse her and wake her up.
Satisfied that Caroline was awake, the teacher continued lecturing.
*Lynne,* Caroline mused. *I* was *called that, once upon a time. Now, I suppose. Before I became Queen of Sirocco.*
How a lifetime fit into a fifteen minute nap, Caroline never quite figured out. But somehow it did. As she was packing up her notebook after class, something on her finger snagged the zipper on her bag.
*My Siroccan wedding ring?* Caroline wondered. Worried about people seeing it and asking questions, but unable to just slide it into her bag, she quickly slipped it from her ring finger to her middle finger. It didn’t fit as well, but at least she’d be able to lie about it.
“Hey Lynne, where’d you get that ring?” one of her friends asked.
“Um. My grandmother sent it to me,” Caroline lied, twirling the ring back and forth on her finger, adjusting to keeping it on her middle finger instead of the ring finger.
*edited to change country name because my brain was not 100% awake when I wrote this*
*read more of my writing on /r/TheLastComment*
Edit again to add: [Next part!](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheLastComment/comments/g5w8pf/queen_of_the_desert_winds_prompt_responses/) Thanks to everyone who asked for more, and especially those who critiqued my country naming choices. If I hadn't renamed Caroline's country to Sirocco, I may never have had the ideas I needed to keep this going. | 2020-04-21T08:24:20 | 2020-04-21T08:11:43 | 502 | 236 |
[WP] Humans are the only sapient species to naturally evolve. All of the other races had a " Caretaker " race that guided their evolution. Naturally, the aliens are horrified, thinking that our " Caretaker " race abandoned us. | "Alright, so this publication from your 'Ministry of Interstellar Affairs' claims that the human species has not had a 'benefactor' species at any point in its history. The Most Esteemed would like to know how much truth is behind that, chairman Van Beketov. As would the rest of the galactic community."
Diplomats. The greatest nightmare of any chairman, president, general, CEO and emperor, or any combination thereof.
Humanity was new to the galactic stage, but not exactly backwards. It's just that nobody really bothered to look in the solar system and Humanity just kind of had to stumble upon everyone. Leading theory for the galactic community at the time was that complex life couldn't even begin evolving on anything other than extremely light planets orbiting Red Dwarfs. Obviously, humans coming from the overweight mother Earth orbiting a G-type was a bit of a surprise in academic circles. Everyone else.. didn't really care. Just another species for the pile.
Now, great part is: Those light little planets don't exactly have a lot in terms of heavy elements like copper, gold, lead or uranium. The neat little things civilizations need to even invent metallurgy.
That's where benefactors came in. Though the first benefactor's kind of a mystery, like Terrabiology's 'Last Common Ancestor', all species in the galactic scene have one that nurtured their civilization for a century or two with resources and ideas until they were ready to be given the technologies needed to take to the stars.
Well that was until our Ministry of Interstellar Affairs decided to basically up and say 'fuck it' to the diplomatic consequences and just throw out the truth without any sugar coating. Not that I blame them.
“Now, please my Eæn frater, we know how politically.. sensitive the issue is regarding benefactors, but what the ministry has published is nothing more but truth, based on the collective sum human of human paleontological and archaeological research of a millennium.”
Oh, another peculiarity. Races tend to worship their benefactors as gods, creating a nicely complex system of godly hierarchies as one species benefacts another, which then later benefacts another one.
“Your human political mess is well known for its propaganda, even by your own history, if those documents are even true. Give me a straight answer that I can submit to The Most Esteemed and won’t make me suggest to declare you anathema!”
Did I mention I hate diplomats?
“Frater, you can always ask for a committee of your own ‘metatheophilosophers’ to attend colleges about human and Terran natural history on Earth so that they may verify our findings. I would also like to suggest that unlike most new discoveries, we already have an interstellar holding consisting of 7 for-us habitable planets, and a military force to match. Your arrogance will not do you many favours, and for all the influence your kind has in the galactic proceedings, I doubt many would be as willing to go to war over this.”
“You’ll regret this, chairman. The Most Esteemed will-”
“Will do nothing or suffer the fate he/she/it intended for my species, now goodbye, I have 72 other diplomats with the exact same question waiting. You know the door, and again I hope you enjoy your diplomatic quarters on board of the Leiba, and all their luxuries.”
Wee, one diplomat down, 72 to go. At least it’s fun to watch them struggle in the enhanced gravity of my office here on Leiba's station, and see them launch themselves up against the ceiling as they fail to adjust to their ‘standardized-regular’ gravity back in the hallway.
***Thud***
Never gets old. | "Well, billions of years ago we all evolved from bacteria, or something. I don't know. High school was a long time ago."
"High school..? Is that where your Caretakers raised you?"
"No, well, we just call them 'teachers' here. And they just taught us the usual stuff - you know, science, biology, geography, that sort of thing."
"I *see*. So you're saying you never had any Caretakers at all? That you just gained self-awareness spontaneously? That you evolved from *monkeys?*"
The human thought for a bit. "Essentially, yes."
The alien sighed in exasperation, then turned and climbed back into the spacecraft. His copilot turned towards him.
"What did the humans have to say?"
He glared at him.
"Just start the damn engines, will you?"
****
The alien watched as Earth slowly faded out of sight. He was thoroughly annoyed.
He sent a short, terse message to his Caretaker, who had sent him on this mission:
*I really don't have time for practical jokes.*
| 2016-07-28T14:06:32 | 2016-07-28T13:25:18 | 66 | 49 |
[WP] In the future Earth is fighting a desperate war against aliens. With no other option, we start to use heavy genetic engineering, effectively making most humans like nightmare monsters. After victory, the unaltered refugees on a secluded planet do not recognize us for humans anymore. | Heroes, we called ourselves, when we had won the war. I looked at my brothers and sisters in the cabin of the craft that would take us to our families again. There were no words; the pensive silence of our voices outweighed the hum of the craft as we ascended. Everyone remained in armour; worn-out colours of the flags of their former countries still bore on some of their breasts like reminders of what we had come from.
Beneath each helmet in the room was a man or woman who had a story to tell that I never would have believed as a child. We all had different dreams before, no one wanted to serve in such a war but eventually we had forgotten the other options we once had. With each moment that passed, we were farther away from our planet Earth and I had to remind myself that the war was over. The others in the cabin were probably reminding themselves of the same thing but they did not speak of it.
I put a gloved hand to my chest, feeling nothing but hoping to somehow sense the flag I once wore and fought for. I tried to remember the colours and shapes, looking round at the other worn-out flags for inspiration but they had all faded into obscurity. There was no longer any sense in borders and countries. Even the sea could not break apart the lands we had fought for; it was all ours and we had won it back.
They told us that we were being taken to the secluded planet where our loved ones had evacuated to. I wondered what emotions hid beneath the helmets around me at the thought of bringing our planet home again. I, like them, had not left the planet like our families had and I had seen nothing else but Earth. The thought of bringing them back was a difficult concept for me to grasp.
Whatever the Earth once was, it was no longer the same. I could not see thick forests, cities still standing nor any land untorn from the damages of war even in the farthest depths of my memory. We had ruined what we had won and for that we were told to revere ourselves as heroes. Somehow doubt remained within me but I had long learned to trust my superiors in what is right or wrong. They had got us from one end of the war to another and although everything had changed, they promised us all that we had won. I trusted everything they said.
A speaker sounded above our heads telling us that we were drawing closer and no reaction came from any of us. We understood, factually, that we would see our families again but none of us could remember how we were supposed to feel about it. The word, “home,” had been thrown about as if we would return to a different planet to the one we had left once we had collected our families from their safe haven. I trusted these words, despite my doubts. Doubts were a natural side effect of war, they told us, so we had nothing to be concerned about.
We landed after some time, our sergeant stood tall in the doorway to address us. We were the first to land, he told us, and we were going to be the first heroes that the people would see now that the war was over. We were ordered to feel both honoured and proud for everything and then we were ordered to stand and leave the craft in single file.
We walked down the steps, looking straight ahead until instructed to do otherwise. We were lined up on a stage in front of a crowd of people. Their voices were light and surreal like distant whispers. A speech was called out to them in another whispery voice over a speaker. The people below our eyes became animals, cheering and crying at the words spoken to them. We paid no attention until the order to remove our helmets so we could look upon the people.
I looked down; they were like humans only smaller without any form. I nervously looked at my other comrades beside me who wore expressions I could not read. Their black eyes watched the creatures below with caution and they silently looked to their sergeant for help.
“What are they?” A whisper sounded from the crowd, high pitched and weak. Sounds of agreement filled the air in the language I knew and spoke only from the tongues of aliens. I scanned each of them to assess the danger. They appeared weak and lifeless, their bones almost visible through their cloth-like skin. Without further consideration, I detached one of my gloves to look at my own skin. As it should be – my skin was thicker, harder and much greyer, on a hand at least twice the size of any of the hands of the people in the crowd.
I compared the faces of my brothers to the creatures before us whose eyes were pale and flooded with white whilst my brothers saw through wide, mostly black eyes. We were the normal ones, I convinced myself as I looked at the fragile bony creatures below. A distant feeling of familiarity hung in my chest as I looked at them. They were frightened and feeble.
Without order, I found myself stepping down from the stage and standing amongst them; I glared at them and took their faces in. They backed away from me as if I had come to harm them; I tried my best to find them in my memories.
“I am on the wrong planet,” I said aloud, my voice reverberated off the walls and seemed to frighten the small bipedal creatures. I looked up to my brothers for help, they wore an expression that looked like fear but I could not bring myself to understand. Our sergeant looked confident, despite the commotion, and he looked over the situation calmly.
“These are your loved ones,” He said, his voice was no longer calming like it had been through the years of war, “It will take some time to adjust to them again. Go find your families.” He gestured to my brothers to join me in the crowd of frightened creatures. They obeyed nervously and integrated within the crowd, masses of people were backing away from us in all directions.
Our sergeant wore a smile as he watched us trying to find our families amongst the creatures. They were much smaller than us, brittle and strange. After the fear had dissipated from the creatures, the tables had turned and they began to back us into a corner. We were the frightened ones, wondering if we had been tricked into an ambush by our own superiors or if these creatures were really our loved ones.
“Go find your families,” His voice echoed in my mind, I could not help but regard it as another order. I tried my best to obey and looked at the faces in the crowd nervously without prevail. It was then that I realised how much I had lost.
It seemed normal to forget the memories of my past in the trials of war. With each injection, we grew stronger, our fear numbed and we got a step closer to winning the war. We were warned that things would seem different when it was over but none of us knew what it meant. Somewhere in the crowd were the people that were once my family but the word and its definition were thrown around so blandly and factually that although we knew what it was, we had lost all understanding of it.
It dawned on us gradually with each moment that we were the creatures and they were the humans. Whatever we had been before the war had long died within us. We came to remember not the individual faces but the general look of human men and women. We looked again upon ourselves and saw only warped and monstrous versions of what we should have been.
I reached out, a long-forgotten feeling I knew once as sadness fell over me but the drugs were too strong to let me succumb to that emotion. I was numb and revolting. My brothers felt the same, aware of what they were and incapable of identifying their own families. We had lost and forgotten our dreams, our loved ones and even our own names. When we realised that our own families could not identify us either, we realised then that we had become nothing. | [Strayed a bit, my bad. Hopefully it's still good.]
Beast. Monster. Demon. All these names and more are attributed to those who saved us. No one knows the truth, and, even if it's better that way, I must change that.
Today, I break the silence. I was a leading scientist in the Exgenesis Project. We were working with genetic modification, attempting to rapidly increase skeletal development in small children while also kickstarting testosterone development. For the first two years of research, our experiments were utter failure. Now, before you get upset at us for testing on live human children, I ask that you calm yourself, as that wasn't the case; we were testing on chimpanzees, actually.
I remember the date exactly: 12/17/2096. The first successful implementation of the X-Gen serum was administered to children, ages 6-10. Out of eight test subjects, three survived. The other five rejected the serum on a genome-deep level, so they never stood a chance. Analyzing the genome of the three surviving children, we noticed remarkable changes. Firstly, their pituitary gland had enlarged, which led to the increased testosterone production and, as a result, massive muscular gain. Secondly, the right supramarginal gyrus was nearly shut down when we took MRI scans. Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, through some anomaly we couldn't have accounted for, the children developed a hardened outer coating, not unlike insect chitin, that was nearly bulletproof, and could withstand extreme heat. We succeeded in turning kids into machines.
With three to our name and thousands of aliens attempting to destroy our planet by conducting sieges on major cities and widespread destruction, time was a commodity we could not afford to overtax. We needed thousands of children and literally hundreds of kilograms of our serum. From here on, I will be ceasing my use of the word "serum", as a serum is meant to help in some way, and we certainly did not help them. It was more of a toxin. So, kidnapping thousands of kids, no matter where they may have been, we quickly set to work making a small army of genetically modified warriors. Of the 13,000 we abducted, only 6,000 survived.
Two weeks later, we sent these children (horrified, scared, isolated, missing children) into combat. It was a slaughter; the children won without contest. 2,000 aliens laid dead at the feet of these kids, kids who have had their childhood - no, their humanity - robbed from them. There was no choice for them, and suicide was no longer an option, as their exoskeleton protected them from nearly all kinetic impacts. Trapped in their jail cells that were once their bodies, they were subject to our will.
Our victory over the aliens did not go unnoticed. Shortly after, we received an encoded transmission that, when decoded, told us we had 48 hours to concede or be obliterated. We had a short time to make in impossible decision; we decided against defeat, ultimately choosing that, if we were going down, we were going to nut up first. We had the kids move into pods that would be fired directly at the aliens orbital warship. Not all of the kids would make it, and that was by design.
Firing each salvo, one by one, the kids were blissfully unaware of the nuclear warhead below the floor of their blast pod. Some asked before they were shot into the ship if they would see their families again, and some asked for water before they went. The ones who asked about their families kill me each time I think of them. The hopeful way they asked, and their still childish eyes; they had no clue what we had truly done to them.
The ones who were not armed with nuclear warheads were instructed to storm the ship, kill anything that isn't one of them, and crash it into any nearby terrestrial body that wasn't the Moon or Earth. To their credit, they stormed the ship beautifully, with very few casualties. However, we hadn't accounted for the amount of damage the ship would sustain during the nuclear barrage; we lost 4,500 children that day, which, while it was the goal, was still in plain view of anyone looking into the sky. Some of them reported hearing a strange noise in the cabin, asking for advice on how to deal with it, before the floor below them was obliterated, along with them.
The remaining 1,503 were furious. Any attempts to contain them, ultimately, were failures. We stopped the invasion, but we created monsters in the process. I tell myself that what we did was for the greater good, that the ends justified the means, but I know that's a lie. I have chosen, as the lead biologist of the Exgenesis Project, to purge the facility. The children cannot be allowed to escape, and I will never escape what I've done.
I am Dr. Ivan Maldovich. I am a loving father, and, apparently, horrible psychopath, as only someone with no soul could do this to children. If someone saw them, they might still see humanity in them, if only in their eyes. I am unrecognizable; a real-life monster. | 2016-06-04T07:53:07 | 2016-06-04T05:26:23 | 54 | 11 |
[WP] Death is going through his list of people to collect for the day when he notices God is on the list. He is understandably confused. | *You've come.*
Hᴏᴡ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ I ɴᴏᴛ?
*Good. It's time. Let us go.*
Mᴀʏ I ᴀsᴋ ᴀ ǫᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴ ғɪʀsᴛ?
*Of course.*
Wʜʏ?
*Because I'm tired, Mort. I have existed since the beginning of all things. I brought the universe into being simply to relieve My own boredom, and it worked. It worked for a very long time. But eventually, one tires.*
Bᴜᴛ ᴡʜʏ ɴᴏᴡ?
*They don't need Me anymore. They've moved on, though they don't even know it yet. I haven't interfered with them, haven't even spoken to them, in the last five hundred years. I wanted to see if they were ready, and they are. They have accomplished truly wondrous things, and truly terrible things. Soon, they will be My equal.*
Bᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴜʀ Lᴏʀᴅ. Tʜᴇ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ. Yᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ. Wɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴs ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟsᴇ?
*It goes on. Life will continue much as it has, without My hand guiding the rudder.*
Yᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴜᴘ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪs, ʜᴀᴠᴇɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ?
*Have you ever known Me to make such decisions lightly?*
Nᴏ. Oғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ ɴᴏᴛ.
*Then trust My judgment now. Take Me to My final rest.*
And with that, God died. There were no theatrics, no lightning struck, no heads exploded. He simply willed Himself to no longer live, and it was done.
Death stared at the corpse of God for a minute. He then let out a long sigh, unfurled his scythe, and set about separating the deity's soul from his body. | Death threw himself back laughing
"...and then my boy, he... he tried to bribe me WITH HIS WATCH! Completely unaware of the irony of trying to buy more time with time!"
Joe shifted uncomfortably in his step. His mind drifted to the coffee that had finished brewing in the other room while his brain couldn't quite make sense of the fact that Death was at his door. Death? Death must be here for some coffee.
"Okay.. good... would you like some coffee?" Joe gestured to his kitchen through the doorway.
"Coffee? We must go. I am on a tight schedule. The next person on my list is someone named God. I wonder sometimes where this list gets its names from."
Death outstretched his bony finger to Joe's hand and in the blink of an eye they found themselves standing before God's gracious flowing beard.
Death froze and then looked repeatedly between his list and God.
God sighed softly.
Joe traced his morning steps backwards trying to identify which one in particular was the wrong one. | 2015-02-01T06:20:49 | 2015-02-01T06:12:17 | 42 | 11 |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | *Whoosh. Swish. Click. Pause.*
The laundromat played it's age-old melody. It was essentially therapy after so many years. Ellie took off her glasses and rested her head on the wall behind her bench.
*Whoosh. Swish. Click. Pause. Brr.*
She imagined she was actually on a plane, descending on some tropical isle and not on a hard bench, in a landromat, at midnight, on a Saturday.
*Whoosh. Swish. Click.*
Jingle.
She frowned, in the middle of stirring a fruity drink in a beach bar. *How rude.*
Someone else had decided they need a retreat to the laundromat on a cold october evening. Ellie paid them no mind, as she tried to doze off again.
"Eyy, Ellie, how you doin'? Didn't you just get a new washer last week?"
Ah, John from two floors down. She straightened up against the wall, just a tiny little bit.
"You know how it is, they don't make them like they used to..."
"Ain't that the truth."
He continued on piling his laundry in a machine, his back to her at the other end of the room.
She opened one eye to spy on him lazily. Without her glasses, however, she was treated to just a vague blur. Not one to ever miss a free show, she quickly put them on and turned to look at him.
*Whoosh. Swish. Click.*
*Whoosh. Swish. Click. Brrr.*
"Uh..."
Her heart was pounding in her ears. But not because of his back, or his legs - or the way his arms flexed like that one time he was fixing his front door (that she definitely did not remember specifically and in detail).
"Yeah?"
Her brain was trying to make sense of the... thing before her. "... You feeling alright this evening, John?"
"Sure, why'd you..." he said, turning around "... ask." It took him a couple of seconds to process the horror on her face. "Oh."
*Whoosh. Swish. Click. Brrr.*
"Are you in a costume of some sort? Are you one of those folks..."
"No! No, I'm not. I mean... Uh.. What folks do you have in mind exactly?"
"You know... the ones that dress like animals and go frolick with each other?"
She took a moment to really look him over. His hair was three times longer (*still so pretty though*) and there was more... other hair, sticking out of his collar and between his trousers and shoes. He looked taller.
"Froli... noo, I'm not one of them. Pleasant bunch, but not my cup of tea."
"Then what... Excuse me, but what the fuck?" She gestured nervously in his general direction.
John sighed deeply and looked all of a sudden dead serious. He took a couple of steps and stood directly in front of her.
Ellie could not be more pressed to the wall behind her if she tried. *Not how I imagined something like this, at all...*
"Elanor. You can't tell anyone about this. About me. Please."
"But, what...? I don't understand anything..."
"Look. My dad took me hunting when I was little. Got bit by a rabid wolf. Now I'm like this every full moon. I'm sorry you had to see this."
Her laundry machine took this moment to end the cycle with a loud *PING*.
Ellie jumped a little. She continued to observe him, speechless at the absurdity of the situation.
"If you tell anybody they will lock me up. I'm not a monster, I don't *eat people*. I don't hunt. I'm not some tv cliche. I don't sparkle. I'm just... terribly inconvinienced once a month."
She was tempted to laugh at the last one, but her mouth got there faster than her brain. "I would never do anything to hurt you, John."
She clamped a hand on her mouth the moment the words left it.
His gaze changed then. He did not need heightened senses to read the situation.
She played it cool. "You know, it's not the werewolves that sparkle..."
"Oh? But we *can* do other things..."
He took a step forward and she did not stop him. | Hi, I says, how do take care of that fur coat. I was just the right kind of coked out, active, fearless, but still coherent. Ideal for a night of household chores, followed Russian hardbass at the pivo z champanski, followed by the hours long, mindless fucking of strangers, followed by the afternoon special at Kolya's. Small town weekend. What else are you gonna do.
The furry guy didn't even glance over. Don't wear fur, he said, it's cruel. Do you know, he added, these fur things on jackets and bonnets? People don't even realise it's actual fur. You know what that's made of? Dogs. Man's best friend! The world is really headed towards some dark times.
He kept stuffing laundry into the machine. Didn't notice me staring. You tired? Says I, why don't you do like everybody and draw a line for the weekend?
A line? Ah, no, can't control myself on drugs. Says he, grabbing to where he expects his pant pockets.
Stops, looks at his reflection, then me, goes, ah shit. You know, I gotta eat you now. Can't let the knowledge spread. Sorry, you seem alright.
Me, on coke fueled courage, I came up with the only right answer. Who's gonna believe the stuff I see in a state like this? I say. Come on, I'll pay for your laundry and you can crash away my place, since you probably forgot your keys as well.
Anyway, that's my evening, sweetheart, wamna go to my place and fuck like rabbits? Maybe he'll even join in. Hey! Don't just walk off! Dammit, better keep that one to myself. | 2020-09-29T12:43:39 | 2020-09-29T09:22:24 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego..
[removed] | I have never understood how no one has done what I have. It's simple and direct. Plan and execution. Yet somehow countless people before me have failed.
I've taken over the world... more or less. Still a few groups refusing to accept my rule.
Looking back it all started when I walked upon a street brawl.
\---
It was at least 20 people swinging fists and clubs. I just walked on by. Ain't none of my damn business, I just work, sleep and game. But then I hear loud bangs. Gunfire. Then something flies in front of me... a gun.
It's a pistol, semi-automatic. Probably one of the hooligan's.
"Hey!" Probably one of the hooligans.
I keep walking. Safest bet.
"I'm talking to you, you bitch-stick!"
Bitch-what? I turn around and get sucker-punched. I didn't want to get involved, but am now.
The gun, right next to me. I'm in danger. I pick it up and shoot the guy who hit me. I see him drop. I hear him breathe. Raspy choppy breaths.
I look around the street. Everyone is gone, 'cept a few bodies.
Better get to work, don't want to be late. I won't get in trouble but the boss is a real bitch.
"Stop right there!" A deep booming voice. "Murderer."
It's one of the costumed "heroes". Never did anything for me, barely do anything for anyone really. Haven't heard of any of them stopping any wars. Only a few gangs, and even then the gangs always come back!
"Put down the gun or face the consequences!"
I look at him, well at his goofy red mask with lightning bolts. "Excuse me?"
"I said give yourself up."
"Have ya heard of self-defense?" Who the fuck is this dumbass? I could've died!
He surrounds himself with electricity, "I'm going to count to 5!"
Holy shit, he's going to attack me!
"1..."
I need to think fast.
"2..."
"FIVE!" I fire the gun.
The costumed vigilante falls dead.
**"NOOO RED-THUNDER!!!"**
I look and see a blue streak zoom away.
It was then I realized super beings were chumps.
\---
Since then I put an ad out, asking for basically mercenaries. I told them to shoot first not to scream or anything. After a few dead heroes some villains came to me asking for wisdom... each time they did I told them I needed full access and control of their facilities and organizations. Then I shot them, and eventually had weapons that could harm the most resilient of heroes.
A lot of people tried to stop me, but when they got me they began a big rambling speech. I would sneak off and bash their head in with a rock or promise to not do what I was doing. And it always worked... and I continued to do what I was doing.
Some of the villains I killed had programs that would basically let them control nations. They never used it, so I did. The programs always came with a powerpoint presentation too. Showing the step-by-step process. Exact weakness. Really stupid stuff.
I used the stuff the villains had to kill the heroes and take over the world. Took about a week. | The fire crackled and popped, illuminating the entrance of my lair. They broke in all at once. Half a dozen heroes, none of which it seemed knowing how to use the door, might I add, stood before me.
“It’s over Mania, the jig is up,” their leader, Captain Heronius stated.
I could care less. If they want to invade and defeat my army, they are more than welcome to try.
They could actually win too, if they actually cared enough to study the enemy.
It only would have taken minutes to have realized that I am never one to appear without a plan, but they just can’t handle the fact that the villain they face is competent.
But, at the very least, they learned that bullets can pierce even the most powered flesh.
Second prompt, feedback welcome
-Sky | 2019-08-06T20:42:43 | 2019-08-06T16:11:22 | 121 | 41 |
[WP] You are a supervillain named The Keymaster. Instead of creating grand plans to conquer the world, all you do is run around and free other captured supervillains from prison, after the superheroes defeat them.
Edit: Thanks for the frontpage! | "This damp prison cell is hardly a match for the Amazing Contortor!", a man in an ill fitting suit shouted, his cries falling on empty cells or apathetic ears. He had decided on an...unconventional name. Why did the heroes get a monopoly on the word 'Amazing'? Combined with his di understanding of suffixes, the "amazing contortor" was born. He went around the town, causing mayhem and misdeeds through his amazing acts of contortionism, such as slightly distracting heroes by stretching his leg over his head. He was more offended by the after-thought nature of his capture than with being arrested itself. Ultra Man himself - another interesting case study in self naming - had grabbed him off the street as he was performing his acts of villainy. He had not been hard to catch, because he could not move in his contorted pose. Ultra Man had thrown him into the back of a squad car only after all the other villains had been disposed of, and it had taken an innocent passerby's mention for him to even notice the contortionist.
On his way to the jailhouse the Amazing Contortor had decided that no matter what it takes, he would have his revenge. He would distract Ultra Man so hard he would forget his own name. He would positively dazzle him. All he had to do was get out of his cell. Unfortunately, his contortionist abilities were limited. No matter how hard he tried, how hard he hated, he could not squeeze through the bars. He had resorted to yelling, taking out his frustrations on anyone who would listen, trying to annoy his way out of prison.
Footsteps echoed throughout the hallway outside the cell. He backed into the corner of his cell, scared of what he imagined was an angry guards wrath. He had gotten most of information about what happens in prisons from the movies, and he was sure that he was about to get beat unmercifully. Instead, a likewise ridiculously suited man appeared outside his cell. He stopped in front of the bars, and peered in.
"Behold! I am the Keymaster! I am here to release you to continue your acts of villainy! Tell me, what is your name and goal?"
The Contortor felt a spark of hope, and approached the bars.
"I am the Amazing Contortor. My only goal is to defeat Ultra Man. He took everything from me."
"Oh, you'll do nicely. Ultra Man is just the hero that I need distracted. Now tell me, how do you plan to defeat him?"
"I was planning on a pose, a pose so grand that Ultra Man will have no choice but to pay attention," The Amazing Contortor started to pace around as he spoke, emulating the villainous orators from the movies,"This pose will make all of cirque du soleil look like child's play," He was no longer facing the man outside the cell," This pose will be enough to distract even those who are shooting up that very moment, those who have addictive substances roaring through their veins right that moment. They will instead become addicted to my moves. Yes, friend, this pose will be my Magnum Posus." He heard the sound of a cell opening, and turned back around. The Keymaster was gone.
"Hey, where'd you go?"
The Keymaster came back into view. He was being followed by another man in a spandex body suit. He looked back at the Amazing Contortor, and felt a little pity. Plus, it couldn't do much harm to the cause to have as many villains as possible attacking Ultra Man. He opened the cell door.
The Amazing Contortor was again offended. *"Caught and released on an afterthought"*, he thought to himself. *"Looks like I'll have to deal with this 'Ticketmaster' after I dazzle Ultra Man"*
_____________________________________________________________________________
For more stuff like that /r/Periapoapsis | This world is small, fighting is futile, goals are pointless, we are meant to progress through evolution, till our planet's resources deplete, and we die. Some desire chaos, to become the king, the owner of this small, innocent planet. Some desire protection, to be the defenders of this small, innocent planet.
Why, what's the point of feeling pain? What's the point of fighting, to be part of the two way street, you don't need to go anywhere.
They call me, The Keymaster. Strange one to be called, let me explain. Fighting is boring, fighting doesn't make you feel good, you know what I mean? What's the point, the heroes will try to win, the villains will try to win, it's an endless cycle, it doesn't matter if you're the strongest villain in the world, there'll probably be a hero to match you. There's always some damn, bullshit balance.
When the villains lose, I enter, when they are locked behind bars, I free them, that's why I'm The Keymaster. I avoid confrontation, I avoid arguing, I free them, and disappear. That's all there is to it.
And you may wonder, why the villain side?
It's because it's fun to free the villains.
| 2017-03-11T18:57:10 | 2017-03-11T18:05:50 | 46 | 16 |
[WP] You're a supervillain -- but you can't do crime every day, it's exhausting. You've got to have some normal days too. On one such occasion, while out running errands, you encounter the alter-ego of your nemesis, the hero... apparently also just trying to have a normal day. | It was pretty awkward. I was grabbing some coffee for my co-workers back at the office. And Super Ice, the hero who always tried to stop me...was ordering a Caramel Frappuccino in front of me in the line. He turned around, coffee in hand, and grinned at me. At first, I was confused, and then I realized I had always worn a mask over my face and some x-ray goggles. So he had no idea what I looked like, except for a few glimpses when my mask fell off, which happened only a few times when he’d struck me with ice. I, on the other hand, had done some research crossed with facial recognition on my goggle’s recording feature that time I saw his face exposed when I’d defeated him one time.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” he asked, still with the obnoxious grin on his face.
I didn’t know what to do. I was literally exposed fully, wearing a suit, tie, and no mask. I simply attempted a smile, and pulled him aside to a private booth in the shop.
“You don’t recognize me?” In all honestly, I wanted him to recognize me. I wanted to have a conversation with him...just two people trying to have two identities on a normal day.
“I’m sorry, I—d” the smile disappeared from his face. “Energy Pulse?” he whispered, half shocked and half almost afraid.
“Yeah.” I stuck my hands in my pockets, a dim yellow light emitting from them. I quickly shut them down. “I really don’t want to fight. I’m just trying to have a normal day, man. A day off, y’know?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Me too. I work downtown in one of the tech offices. If you know what I look like...I suppose you probably know my name already?”
“Yep. You’re Noah Craigson.” I glanced around. “And I guess I can tell you my first name. It’s Marcus.” I stuck my hand out, and we shook hands cautiously, making sure the other person wouldn’t try anything.
“So you have days off, too?” I asked him, settling down in the booth.
“Yeah, of course. Sometimes I do patrols and I come across, well, I come across you. But all in all, I do have days off.”
“Mm. Well then, i—what in the world!” I yelled. I heard a huge crash of glass and tables breaking as a huge, metallic robot shattered the entire front and roof of the coffee shop. I’d never seen it before—and judging by the destruction that just happened, it was another super villain. Noah—or Super Ice—looked at me, waiting for my next move.
“Come on! I can probably take him down alone, but it can’t hurt for some extra help. There’s only room for one super villain in town, and that’s me,” I said, pressing a button on my watch. The soft, stretchy material of my super suit crawled out from inside the watch, enveloping me. I pulled on my mask and goggles, and leapt into action. From the corner of my eye, I could see a blast of ice shooting up at the robot’s head.
And that was our first coffee meetup on our off day. There would be many more coffee off days together to look forward to after that. | \#1 public enemy, my face known worldwide,
However even my enemies cannot really hide.
The one thing we have is our alter egos
To mask all the stares and “there he goes!”
Being the bad guy really takes its toll.
The cops, the Feds, even Interpol.
Everyone expects you to be committing crimes
But even I must run errands at times.
One day I was shopping and I saw someone weird,
It was Mr. Mindbender, but he had on a beard.
Real name Holt Harris, he tried to act sly.
Get to the register, pay, then bye.
We both looked at each other, then went on our way,
Neither of us wanted to be noticed that day.
Holt Harris was frazzled, like he was on drugs,
And it's not a fair fight with my 2 dozen butt plugs.
\- The Prober | 2018-08-07T11:51:31 | 2018-08-07T11:03:05 | 75 | 27 |
[WP] You are a bear in the circus addicted to tranquilizer darts. | There are few things that illustrate mankind's bottomless cruelty more eloquently than the circus grizzly bear. Mother Nature's largest, most magnificent terrestrial predator, reduced to a stumbling dancer, a shaggy brown spectacle for seven-year-olds, their pig-nosed faces sticky with cotton candy and snot, to gawk and occasionally throw objects at.
You know what I wanted out of life? It wasn't much. I just wanted a little square of forest and a stream with fish in it. I planned on spending the bulk of my life lounging in the sun, rolling in the meadows, and schnuffling for berries in the undergrowth. I didn't get to do any of that. When I was six months old, the humans snatched me out of the wilderness and stuffed me in a cage.
Can you blame me for developing an addiction?
The first time they tranquilized me, after I accidentally sat on Harvey Butkis, my sniveling shipwreck of a trainer, I found myself floating languorously through the clouds, a cool breeze ruffling the itchy spot normally rendered unscratchable by my thick iron collar. It was paradise. For a few scant minutes, everything was wonderful, and I was at peace.
Then I woke up.
I began at once to plan my next tranquilization.
Sitting on Harvey Butkis again was out of the question. The first incident had cracked his pelvis. I didn't want to kill the guy. Truth be told, I felt bad for him, with his constantly-running nose and the picture of his kids he always pulled out when he thought nobody was looking (nobody but me, anyway; I was a bear). From what I'd overheard, he'd lost the kids in a particularly nasty divorce, and hadn't seen them a single time since.
I had to determine an infraction serious enough to get me reliably tranquilized, rather than whipped, but not so serious that they killed me outright. I knew that this latter fate was far from impossible. Pete the perpetually stomachache-ridden lion had once taken a bite out of his trainer's shoulder in a fit of dyspeptic rage, only to meet his unceremonious demise at the hands of Randy the Ringleader and his remorseless elephant gun.
Randy was a dick. Randy I would sit on, definitely, if I got the chance. But he was afraid of bears (and not lions, for some reason?), so he never came within twenty feet of me.
The day Harvey Butkis returned from the hospital, I threw a tantrum in my cage, hurling my balancing stool and water bowl from one side to the other, bellowing and roaring and trying to look like a very angry animal indeed. Harvey, wrapped in his ridiculous pelvis cast, appeared so alarmed that I couldn't help but let the act subside.
I tried pretending to pry at the bars. That earned me a few halfhearted lashes of Harvey's whip.
I tried acting like I'd lost my mind -- standing on my head, for instance, and then attempting to sing "Uptown Funk," which had been playing pretty much continuously over the circus PA system in recent weeks -- but all it accomplished was to bring the other trainers over to congratulate Harvey on my newfound arsenal of tricks.
Harvey, who by this point had had quite the day, could only nod and smile feebly.
That night, he came to my cage with a tranquilizer dart.
"Just a little something to help you calm down, buddy," he whispered, as I pretended to sniff curiously at the dart. He jammed it in my neck, and I rocketed back to paradise for a couple of hours.
The next day, I was obedient and friendly to Harvey. When we practiced the trick where I gave him a hug, there was real warmth in my embrace, which I think he could feel, based on the gurgles he produced.
That afternoon, Randy came by to talk to Harvey.
"I hear your animal has been acting strangely," said Randy. "Do you think we should put him down?"
*Randy, you shithead.*
"N-nothing out of the ordinary," said Harvey.
"I'm just saying," said Randy, "we've had a rash of animal attacks recently, so if you detect anything fishy... the circus won't have trouble finding a bear that's more amenable."
"Alright, sir."
"Sorry about the pelvis, by the way. Hope it heals quick."
"Me too, sir," said Harvey.
That night he came to my cage again. I thought he was going to give me another dart, but instead he unlocked the door and swung it wide open.
"I can't do this any more," he said. "Go on. Run."
I stepped out into freedom and began to lumber away.
Then, after a moment, I turned around.
"What are you doing?" hissed Harvey. "Run!"
*Harvey,* I wanted to tell him, *I'm a fucking BEAR. I don't know where to run.*
"What do you want?"
I knelt at his feet, motioned with my head.
"You want me to ride you?"
I rolled my eyes and nodded.
He clambered on....
...and then we were off, galumphing across the darkened circus grounds, headed God knows where, me and my pal Harvey, each of us filled with the same illogical conviction that, no matter where we ended up, it couldn't be any worse than the place we'd just left.
*****
*If you liked the story, check out my [sci-fi adventure novel](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3uixph/ot_thanks_to_rwritingprompts_i_spent_the_last_ten/) and/or [my personal subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/FormerFutureAuthor/)! Making a big push to get more content out there. :D* | "Stand on your two feet!"
*Yeah… if only it was that easy,* Griz thought, pulling himself up on his hind legs. The spotlight blinded him in
white, hot light. All around, the cheering and clapping was like rain, or television static.
"Play dead!"
*Been doing that for a while.*
He threw himself to the ground and rolled over. More cheering. His back against the dirt, he flashed his eyes open to the cone shaped ceiling in red and yellow straps. The fabric was of cheap quality, and he could see the stars through the tent. It was a beautiful night.
"Do a barrel roll!"
He did so.
Later that night, nested inside the wagon, Griz lit a cigarette and leaned back, feet dangling from the train's sliding door a few inches from the ground rolling fast outside.
It was three weeks now since his last attack. Well, "attack"… He never really attacked anyone. He just got close
enough to get his fix.
But it was last call for him. Larry the Elephant had overheard the circus manager saying that if he pulled that shit again, they'd put him down. Or sell him to the zoo.
The zoo… maybe that would be good for him, after all. Settle down. Start a family. Well, not really, they cut your balls at the zoo. But at least he'd have a partner.
And no access to the junk.
Griz missed it. The release of the tranquilizer was peace like he never experience before -- like taking off a shoe after a hard day.
The first week cold turkey was the hardest – the sweaty nights, the abdominal pain – all the while having to
perform, night after night after night all across America.
Griz took a deep drag and let his eyes loose on the landscape outside – distant little roadside stars sparkled and
shone in mid-west homes and farms and taco joints. Here and there a light pole would burst its light in, casting his shadow on the wagon floor, and Griz would watch with his the corner of his eyes as the patch of light would travel sideways, from right to left edge to edge, then leaving the wagon into darkness again, taking his shadow away.
Griz flicked the cigarette out, watching as it drew an incandescent arc of glowing red towards the dark desert, landing on the lane divides by the highway.
"Jump through a hoop!" they would scream, the following night, in Flagstaff, Arizona.
*What do you think I've been doing all my life?*
"Get on your knees!" in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
*I don't believe in God.*
And then more road. More and more and more road. Each day the promise of life getting a little better. Each long,
fifteen-hour train ride carrying the hope of maybe, maybe finding something worthwhile to live by. He didn't want
to be a junkie bear anymore, but he had not the strength to find joy in life without his drug. Watching nighttime
going by in the depths of Missouri, hearing the laughter of the other animals playing cards in the next wagon, their voices carried by the cold wind like false promises of better days, Griz though about taking his own life. He was just a bear, after all. A circus bear no one cared about. Even the clowns made fun of him.
What the fuck am I writing? Jesus Christ.
| 2016-01-24T20:55:01 | 2016-01-24T19:33:47 | 86 | 15 |
[WP] Your hand rests on the door to the apartment you share with your fiancé. You absolutely know tonight is going to be bad. You know she is one of the world's elite superheroes and she knows you are the world's greatest super villain. Both of your secrets held till just an hour ago. | *Fucking fairies, this cannot end well.*
I knew that before, but it only registered from the moment I got to the door. Her magic was lashing around in anger though thankfully this was not noticeable unless you were sensitive to the arcane. Like me. As I cringed at the erratic and wrathful movement of her energies I felt a weight upon my shoulder and sharp talons digging into it. I turned around, knowing that I would see Elia, her brown-feathered hawk familiar. She did not look happy. You'd think it would be harder to notice with birds, but she had alwasy been very expressive. Extremely expressive, in this case.
*You bitch.* She spoke telepathically.
*Hi, Elia.* I answered.
Her eyes narrowed at me and then she pecked me on my forehead. Hard. I hissed in pain but did nothing else. The fact that she didn't draw blood was proof that maybe this was not completely unsalvageable.
*Now you go in there and beg for her forgiveness like a leper to a god or I'll rip your head off for all those times you ruined my feathers.*
I cringed. When Jennifer was on duty, Elia was twice as big and with white feathers. No wonder I hadn't recognized her. The same could be said for Jennifer's magical power. Even now, angry and betrayed, her power was only a shadow of what she showed as the White Arch-Mage.
*Sorry.*
*None of you apologies will matter unless she says they do. Now stop stalling.* She pecked me again, though far more softly. I took a deep breath and then opened the door. She was there, sitting on the couch of the main room, in a meditative position so as to try to calm herself. It wasn't really working.
"Ben" She said icily. She turned to look at me. Her eyes were shining with arcane power, though the pupils still remained mostly visible.
"Jennifer" I walked up to her, slowly. When she didn't stop me or say anything, I procedeed to sit on the opposite side of the couch.
"You lied to me" And gods, she sounded so hurt when she said it. I wished I could keep my mouth shut but an unstoppable flicker of annoyance pushed through and I responded, despite knowing it was the wrong thing to say.
"That's hardly something something you can lecture me about" God-DAMMIT Ben.
She frowned, then looked hurt, and finally returned to a neutral displeased expression. Nice going me.
"You're right" She said coolly.
"So let's talk about the things I can lecture you about" Oh fuck, she was going to flay me alive.
"You're a rogue conjurer who, for no less than 7 years, has been commiting various serious crimes like Unlicensed Summoning, Theft Of Magical Artifacts, Unlicensed and Unpermitted Dungeon Raiding, Assault, Burglary, Illegal Trade Of Magical Artifacts, Illegal Trade Of Forbidden Spirits, colluding with dozens of dangerous criminals and who pretty much broke every single part of the Wizardly Code apart from murder and mental manipulation, which is frankly the only reason we're having a talk instead of me burying you alive in Cold Iron chains. Am I wrong in any of this?"
"...No" Merlin have mercy, for I knew she would have none.
"And for the past 4 and a half years we've been together, you have lied to me about your job, friends, life and pretty much anything that was even tangentially related to your crimes, whereas I only lied about being the White Arch-Mage, rather than a normal Arbiter of the Council, something I did for YOUR safety, while you lied to protect your criminal lifestyle. Again, am I wrong in any of this?"
"You.... are correct"
"I see. And do you have ANYTHING to say for yourself? To justify any of this? And don't give me some shit about needing money because we both know you're skilled enough to make a bank legally"
*But not enough to get rid of that fucking fairy. Nor to break her bonds enough to even talk about it.*
"It's because of..."
"Because of what? What?" She said, with a tinge of hope, desperation rather, that whatever I would say would somehow solve all of this.
"Because of the.... power. It makes me feel strong. That's what it's about pretty much" God, in a day or in a century, I'll kill that fucking fairy for forcing me to do this to her.
She looked at me aghast. Then her face turned serious.
"Who's forcing you to do this?"
What now?
"What now?"
"That was not an excuse. In fact it was the worst possible thing you could have said. Even money would have been better. And I could tell it was a lie, I'm the fucking White Arch-Mage. And so I have to ask who the hell lies to make himself look worse? You could have said literally anything else and it would have been better. And even as the Misty Crocodile, which is a shit name by they way-"
"Hey" That was a great name. It fit me.
"No, shut up, it is and everyone knows it. And even as a criminal you've always tried to avoid the more shady and serious criminals, even though you could access more powerful spells and artifacts from them. And this "Hurt them to save them" thing you're trying to pull off, I've seen it a thousand times. My master did it, my best friend did it, hell, I did it. So, stop with the lies, for once, and tell me what's going"
*IF IT WAS THAT FUCKING EASY, I WOULDN'T BE IN THIS SITUATION IN THE FIRST PLACE.*
"It's a fairy isn't it?"
*WHAT*
"You're definitely smart enough that if you could talk about it, you'd have gotten someone to help you or at the very least it would be known you're working under duress. But instead, even now when I got your back against the wall, you're coming up with shitty excuses or saying nothing, hence a fairy, because only they are this restrictive with deals. Which frankly, is both a relief and a worry"
"Really?"
"Yes, relief, because you aren't too much of an asshole and worry because now I have to take care of it. Make no mistake, we WILL talk more about this and you WILL NOT lie to me again, but before any sort of healing and closure comes I have to free you from this curse or pact you got yourself into"
She grabbed my face with both her hands, her eyes fully alight with power, and she looked scarier now than when she was angry at me. Her magical power flowed into me and somehow managed to find and weaken the curse despite it remaining hidden for years.
"So, my little liar, whose wings do I have to rip off to fix this?" | My thoughts flood through my mind. A contrast to what my powers grant me. I am a man who does not feel emotions. Unless I am around her. Apathy does not seem like the greatest ability, but I am able to avoid most consequences of my actions. Emotionally wise.
I place my hand on the doorknob, and my mind feels opened. As if a flood had broke through a dam. My mind fills with guilt, anger, and disappointment. But chief among those is fear. She could kill me! My heart rate increases, and I summon what little force of my powers I have to calm myself down.
I twist the doorknob. It's locked. I fiddle around in my pockets and find my keyring. Unlocking the door, I step in.
"Honey?" I call cautiously, walking slowly and scanning the room for traps or anything that could be used to harm me.
"You bastard." I hear faintly from the kitchen.
"I'm coming in." I announce. I walk into the kitchen with my head down.
"You're a monster." She tells me. She's sitting on a stool in the kitchen, with a glass of water on the counter next to her.
"No..." I say, my mind overloading with guilt and shame, "You are."
"How could I be the monster!?" She explodes. She had always been an emotional person, owing to her power to "open up" a person's heart freeing them from any desensitization, "You kill people!"
"I don't..." I say quietly, my mind racing to form anything together, "I don't use my power to make people fall in love with me."
She visibly recoils. She opens her mouth to speak, but quickly closes it. I see the forming of tears in her eyes, regret most likely, and she quickly looks away.
I don't wish to continue my assault. If I had my normal detachment, I would have stopped. But emotions cause me to continue, "You make me vulnerable around you. You know I need someone to depend on without my power. So you use it to make me stay with you, you make me long for the feeling of being with you."
A long, loud quiet fills the room. I hear a bit of water patter on the kitchen counter.
"I never- I never meant to..." She begins to speak, her voice shaky and scared. Like that of a man who knows that the next moment he will cease to exist.
My mind tries to put up barriers, my emotions will overwhelm me. The more upset she gets, the stronger her powers get. My powers are fueled by my willpower without them. I am mentally fortuitous, but not enough to prevent empathy and regret from filling my head. My vision blurs, and I walk to the sink to lean over it. I feel like throwing up.
"You never meant to do this?" I ask, as genuinely as I can possibly attempt to.
"Yes... I never wanted to make you..." She chokes on her words. She can't form a sentence anymore.
"You don't need to s-say it," I say, the dizziness intensifying, "I know what you mean."
"B-but I have to sa-" She begins with a stammer, I interrupt quickly.
"For 7 years. We've lived here. For 9 years we've been married. We never questioned each other when we came home late, or had a new scar, or had a new pain, or didn't want to have sex," I look back at her, my mind fortifying itself to her power, "And for 9 years, I could love only you." I finished the last statement accusatorily.
She finally reaches a point where she can't hold back her crying. She feels guilty. I... I don't wish to make her feel like this. I want to comfort her. But a feeling in my stomach prevents me. This disgust I feel.
I reach into my jacket. My apathy returning, and pull out my handgun. I let my arm drop to my side as she looks up.
"What are you gonna do?" She asks in a small, fragile voice.
"Never be caught alive." I muster up all my power will grant me. I put the handgun to my head, hesitate for just long enough to watch her scream and jump over the counter, and pull the trigger. | 2021-11-09T03:21:31 | 2021-11-08T23:23:00 | 75 | 37 |
[WP] Your supervillain nemesis is little more than goofy comedy relief, always coming up with clunky machines and insane, nonsensical schemes. When a new dangerous villain appeared, your nemesis utterly destroyed them, and then continued on like nothing happened. | Ultraman listened with a slight smile as Über Destructo Gigadeath ranted about his last evil scheme that would see all ice cream flavours turn to licorice.
It was, to be fair, one of the eviler schemes the young man had come up with.
Licorice. Brr.
Anyway, Destructo was perhaps the most harmless of villains in Central City and with his over the top displays, silliness and hamminess had even garnered something of a fanbase (he had signed autographs that one time and his Mad Cooking channel on YouTube had a million subscribers)
"You shall never get away with this, fiend!" Ultraman called good naturally.
Like many heroes he played along with Destructo. Seriously, the guy send the League Christmas cards.
He was about to respond to the latest taunts...when the sky darkened.
Alarmed Ultraman looked up...and paled as he saw the distinctive patterns of red and black crawling around the planet.
"No. No no no no no..."
"Ultraman, what is it?" Destructo had come closer, looking concerned.
"Get out of here, James. Run as fast as you can. We...we will try to stop it"
Destructo frowned. "Stop what?"
Ultraman shook his head and prepared to take off "No time"
A hand grabbed his muscular arm. "Stop. What." Destructo eyed him carefully "I have never seen you scared before"
Ultraman took a breath. Did it matter now anyway? He saw the familiar figure of red and black smoke descent through the atmosphere. Vaguely humanoid but subtly off in a way that made the eyes hurt.
"The Corruption. A...thing born of the concepts of madness and perversion. It travels the universe and destroys civilisations. Not kills them. But twists and perverts them until there is nothing but fear and suffering. Forever" He took a deep breath, trying to get the dread under control. "I don't know if we can stop it. But we will try" He gave Destructo a faint smile "We have extradomensional evacuation shelters. Spaceships. Try to get to one of them, James, you will be fine, okay?"
Destructo's serious face did not change as he looked from Ultraman to the Corruption. "No"
And then he began to float.
Ultraman blinked. James could fly?
And the idiot was going to confront the Corruption! He had to stop him!
"Stay" James said and Ultraman found himself unable to move, helpless to do anything but watch and listen.
"And what are you supposed to be?" The mocking voice of the Corruption asked. A billion alien voices wailing and screaming. "A little joke of a man, desperate for attention?"
"Yes. I am the laughter, the silliness. The joke. But not the punchline"
Their voices echoed over the city. The country. Somehow, everyone could hear then.
"Oh you are. You so are. Let me show you..."
"No. I've seen you. I know what you are. Broken. Fearful. You are the mind fleeing from reality. A mistake"
"Exactly! I am the final truth in this world! Random suffering! Pointless destruction!"
"No. I saw you. I met you. And I moved past you. You are a temporary aberration. A distraction. Be gone"
"You think you can..."
BE. GONE.
Ultraman clutched his head as reality buckled.
A wound in the cosmos was erased. The Corruption snuffed out like a candle.
Thousands of light-years away entire civilisations woke up from collective nightmares and regained their sanity.
Ultraman looked around. The sky was restored.
The Corruption gone.
The only sign anything had happened at all was the eery silence in Central City.
James stood in front of him, an awkward and unsure smile on his face. "So...icecream?" he asked, unable to meet Ultramabs eyes.
Ultraman thought of James. Of a being able to kill something more powerful than the gods. Of someone able to rearrange reality at a whim. Who used it to play cops and robbers.
Heh. That *was* actually pretty funny.
Slowly he smiled. "You shall never get away with this!"
Destructo relaxed, shoulders slumping in relief "Aha! But how will you catch me when you have to deal with my...*Ice Cream Minions!* Muahahaha!" | My eyes widened as I read the report. I silently read to myself “The face-off only lasted a couple seconds, and the winner was immediately clear.” I quickly skipped through parts of the report and read the end. “The only remaining part of him was his tooth after a deadly blow.”
I immediately started to fear the new villain, but it was quickly resolved after seeing that my nemesis won the fight.
Wait, he won? The goofy, cringe, clumsy man who I’ve fought hundreds of times? No, this can’t be! I’ve received and survived thousands of hits from him. I looked towards my side to see my associate staring at the paper. She looked towards me and I immediately saw her fear.
She sits down onto her chair, staring at the floor inbetween her legs. I slowly rise to my feet, trying to ignore the report. I look to my side and see him, flying towards my HQ that I rebuilt a week ago. He crashes into the window. I expected the window to shatter, but his face, squished against the window, confirmed that I was wrong. He waited a couple of seconds before falling back down.
I hear him stumble up the stairs, completely disoriented from hitting his head on the window. No one downstairs does anything but watch him walk. The security camera starts to glitch and lag. As soon as it starts back up again, he stands at my door.
“I give up.” The words exit my mouth as soon as we make eye contact. “Why? Weren’t you a hero?” “Yes, but I give up.” I stare at the wall beside him. “Did something change your m- uhhhhh.” I stare at him as he collapses to the ground. “Uhhhhhhh” he keeps on making the ugly sound as he lays face down on the tiled floor.
I guess he was no match for the new windows. | 2022-10-13T20:53:30 | 2022-10-13T16:54:50 | 167 | 60 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | Sweat decorated my face, my hands twitched, my personal signs of panic. I gripped my phone on one hand and on the other my bed sheets. A deafening silence filled my bed room.
"What the fuck?" I murmured to myself. I rose up to a sitting position, used the now dirty bed sheet to clean my face. "Sarah?" I called out to my wife. Only silence answered my question. I ripped the sheets from my form and lunged out of bed.
"Sarah!" I screamed. I ran out the bedroom, down the hall, and entered the living room. "Sarah?!" I yelled out once more. My eyes glanced about the room, scoutted the kitchen, peer to the old leathery couch but found nothing.
I fox walked in darkness using the surface floor to fix my location. "Sarah" I called out gently.
I clenched my eyes shut and attempted to steady my breath.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
The back yard. She has to be there, no? I gathered whatever wits I had, which wasn't much to begin with and slowly walked to the other side of the room. Pale white blinds decorated the door in front of me. I swallowed empty dread that filled my mouth.
I gently pull open the door.
Sarah stood outside, standing on the soft green grass. Her back faced me. She stood still and was currently looking at the sky.
I walked forward. "Sarah, you're scaring me" i softly whispered.
No answered came from her.
"Sarah, what the fuck are you looking-"
Words left my mouth. My hands shook and my breathing quickened.
The moon floated above. Far bigger then it should have. Markings scarred it's surface like crude cross hatched shading. The lines grew and within the crevasses poured out blood. I was paralyzed. I couldn't look away. Not when the blood finished covering it. Not when the latitudes and longitudes pulled away from the center and revealed what was hidden inside. A humanoid beast. Its skin paled skin matched that of the moon. It's arms pulled away from its legs and oriented itself upwards. Its face simply consisted of 7 eyes. The remains of the moon orbit around the beast. Faster and faster they moved, until they were blur. The beast opened its eyes and the pieces began to glow. Spears, they began to distort and change and took the forms of glowing spears.
Millions of miles away from Earth. Threw the empty void of space. The shafts of light flew.
Each Longinus struck true and with the impact millions of people were turned to their basic components. Primordial soup poured into valleys, flowed into rivers, flooded homes. Their souls however stayed where they once stood, whirled and moved and solidified into perfect red spheres.
The spheres shot up towards the sky and stopped once the swarm overlooked the Earth.
That day humanity vanished and the beast that screamed from the center of its egg feasted.
***
I'm very sorry for any errors. English is not my first language and past brain trauma certainly doesn't help.
Also I typed this out on my phone. So yeah. I would greatly appreciate any criticism. | I toss in my sleep-- there's a loud buzzing ringing in my left ear, and my eyes flicker open to reveal my phone: vibrating with it's receivance of hundreds of messages. "Holy shit, is that my Discord app again? I swear to god I put it on fucking silent." I grumble, and my hands fumble for the volume rockers. Without a few seconds of effort, my phone is back on silent, and the buzzing stops. I go back the fuck to bed. The creepypasta bullshit can wait, I'm tired as shit. | 2022-09-27T16:50:27 | 2018-04-06T19:48:33 | 33 | 13 |
[WP] At an alien bar in the distant future, two aliens are enjoying a drink and trading stories about the newest member to the Pan-Galactic Union, an odd race of bipeds from a planet named "Dirt". But what they don't realize is that you, the bartender, are from that planet "Earth". | 'Two Screaming Morries for me and my buddy here.'
Mike listened to his Unitrans, then nodded gravely and turned around, opening the tap that contained agonised souls from Moran-5, quickly cutting off the screams by putting a sound-damper lid on the glass.
'You'll never guess where I just got back from.'
Mike finished off the drinks with two colorful straws, placing them before the two aliens - a stone-skin variant - with all the flair of a sombre grave.
'You didn't,' said the other, grabbing his drink without even looking at Mike. 'Earth?'
'The very same.' The alien slurped from his straw, the souls howling as they went down his gravelly throat. 'Might as well call it Dirt now.'
'So the rumors are true?!'
His comrade grinned his rocky teeth bare and burped in satisfaction. 'All gone. Blew themselves back to loose genetic grit, from what I could tell. Collected some excellent radioactive rock samples, though.'
The other shook his head, which was an accomplishment when your neck was made of granite. 'Aggressive little bastards. Might be for the best.'
Mike said nothing, wiping the bar and staring at them with a glare that was emptier than space. The two golem-aliens took no notice.
'They could never *compromise*, yaknow?' Alien 1 sipped his straw, thoughtful. 'The first day in the Union, you remember what they asked?'
His friend laughed. 'I remember, Slate. It was all over the Holo-net.'
'Equal rights,' Slate grinned. 'Stupid little fleshbags. That was their problem. They all wanted more *respect*, more than what was theirs.'
'Didn't know their natural place in the order of dominance,' his friend agreed. 'Even among themselves. Always fighting about it.'
Mike said nothing, his neck muscles tense as he watched the two finish their Screaming Morries.
'We, we *know* our place, yaknow.' Slate burped again, wobbling slightly under the intoxication of Moran souls. 'I could swipe the radioactive rocks I got on Dirt and sell it to a Nuklonean. That's what a human would try.'
His friend barked a laugh. 'They just don't see the inevitable outcome of failure that comes with challenging a dominant species.'
Slate turned to the rest of the bar, mostly low-class species in the Union ranking, and called out 'But we know our species is only fourth in line. That's why I deliver for the Union!' He finally seemed to notice the barman, and his voice got - astonishingly - even lower. 'And that's why you, you miserable low-class flesh-thing, are going to pour us two more drinks.'
The two laughed as Mike turned around and prepared two more Screaming Morries.
'What are you, anyway?' Slate asked him, taking a sip from his new colorful straw. Mike had even added little umbrellas, this time.
'A human,' Mike said.
There fell a deadly silence in the bar. The smart aliens, who had been listening in on the conversation and saw Mike's dead, unimpressed eyes, silently got up and left the bar.
'Oh? So you're not all dead then.' Slate took another sip, still grinning. 'You will be. You wanna know what your species' problem is?'
'No,' Mike said. 'But I can tell you what yours is. You're allergic to wood.'
Slate only know noticed the umbrella in his drink. His eyes widened and he reeled backwards, crashing into the floor with a resounding THUD. The remaining aliens fled as well now, save for Slate's enormous stony friend.
'You'll pay for that, human,' it said, raising a massive fist.
'Another problem is that you never *expect* us to stop taking your shit,' Mike said, firing the Phaser. He'd been hiding it underneath his wiping rag, and now he hit the golem neatly between the eyes. The heart was there, for their kind.
THUD.
Mike calmly stepped around the bar, and fished a set of starship keys from one of Slate's pockets.
'Sell it to a Nuklonean, eh?' he murmured, taking off. The Nukloneons built the best death-rays in the galaxy. Grade-A stuff, Mike knew. And the Union had let them live, confident in their order of dominance.
That was the problem with the Union, really. They *were* stronger. But they underestimated a lot of things.
Like just how foolish humans could be.
Mike would have to teach them. | "What's so funny?" the first alien asked, as the second was stifling laughter,
"Nothing much" it replied through its noise of enjoyment,
"But, ya'heard 'bout this new planet in the union?... What's it called, soil, mud, sumthin' like that".
"Dirt, you mean?" the other added,
"Aye, Dirt, the best name for a planet",
"They are hitting it pretty on the nose with the naming. Although, I have heard it's largely water at its surface, so why it's not called "Water" is beyond me".
I looked up from the glass I was cleaning, "It's Earth, not Dirt",
"Oh? Really? How'd you know that?"
"I'm from it, born and raised"
"I mean no disrespect, but you Dirtlings ought to think about paying someone to name your planet for you, Hell, I'd do it for you for free." it turned to looked at its friend to deliver the punchline, "How about Shithole, to match your face, barkeep?"
The other alien burst into laughter
"It'd have to be Shithole II then"
The first alien's head whipped around to face me, "How come?",
"Well", I replied, a chasm of a grin forming across my face, "Whatever backward fuck hole you're from already has a claim to that name",
The second alien's laughter ended, "You better learn some manners, boy" it got out of its seat to reach an intimidating 4 and a half feet, "You ain't gonna live long with that sort of mouth" an obvious gun protruded from his jacket, a singular 3 fingered hand grasped its grip,
"I meant no harm by it, sir" I replied, docile, as taught to be in situations like this,
"Better" it stated, loosening its grip and returning to its seat.
This is my first entry, so apologies if it's super bad, criticism is extremely appreciated. | 2017-09-06T09:39:00 | 2017-09-06T08:02:06 | 314 | 60 |
[WP] A wizard tutor realizes that, for some odd reason, his client is a prodigy who’s purposefully been hiding their abilities all these years. | Samuel stared at his student. After discovering his true abilities, he had done some research on him.
For one, he was a bit isolated. He barely left his room and avoided any social contact. He never went to class either. Samuel couldn't think of a single reason someone so talented would hide their abilities when they were that significant.
He seemed to have no troublesome family background nor any enemies. And even if he did, Samuel would be happy to recommend him to his grand master and grant him protection. Not that the young man needed it with his abilities.
So, Samuel decided to have a bit of fun. It was only fair after being fooled like this.
\---
"Today, we'll be trying something new."
Jack nodded his head, a bit surprised, but he didn't expect anything special.
"For the past few years I've been teaching you the basics, now, it's time to head a level just beyond that.
"You have learned potion-making using vials, beakers, and magical plants and animal parts, but no matter how complicated or powerful the potion you make, it'll always be the work of the novice."
Jack couldn't help but look at his tutor, stunned. However, he soon nodded in understanding. Hadn't he been hiding his abilities in the first place because he understood that behind every mountain was an even greater peak? Being low-key was the right choice ever since he transmigrated here.
Samuel spoke a bit more on the wonders of alchemy before handing something over.
"Now, you can read my journal on your own, I'll be back in a week, I hope to see some significant progress" Samuel said before leaving.
Had Jack been paying attention he would have noticed his teacher's twitching lips. Alas, all his focus was on the journal in front of him.
\---
Samuel couldn't help but be shocked as he looked at his student. His hair was in every-which direction, unwashed for certainly their entire week apart. His clothing... were the exact same ones that he was in prior. The smell was utterly revolting. Had he.. he *had*. He hadn't bothered to go to the bathroom outside of using small containers in his room.
"I-I'm sorry teacher, I failed you,"
The young man was clearly depressed, his head in his hands.
Samuel now felt quite the amount of guilt. After all, the journal had been some complete nonsense about creating powerful potions from the source of magic itself and actualizing them through one's mind by borrowing the fundamental laws of the universe.
Standard silly dribble that only a young teen with delusions of grandeur would say.
It was only supposed to be a small prank, one that his student should have discovered after a few hours at most.
"This, um..." Samuel truly had no idea what to say. Suddenly, he glanced around the room and noticed dozens of red jelly-like substances on a clearly unused bed. He curiously picked one up and his eyes bulged in shock.
A perfect healing potion. And not just perfect but... but.. he couldn't even fathom how someone could make this! He couldn't help himself as he licked it slightly and his body shook in pleasure.
What madness! An elixir, a true elixir!
Samuel glanced at the mirror in the room and saw a few strands of black in his white hair. The wrinkles around his eyes had lessened quite a bit as well. As if the mirror was charmed, he was unable to look away.
"S-so you couldn't finish the second potion?" Samuel asked after nearly half an hour of silence.
"No teacher. I have no idea what's wrong with it. Could you demonstrate it for me?" The student suddenly looked hopeful as he glanced up at his teacher.
Samuel coughed violently in embarrassment.
"Um, huh, it w-would e-effect your progress if I did so."
"I understand teacher, I won't give up!"
Samuel could only stare blankly as he watched a torrent of magic appear in between his student's outstretched hands as a glowing blue substance formed. It flickered as if struggling to exist but after a few minutes it spluttered out.
"G-good attempt," Samuel finally said, "You are getting quite close. However don't be arrogant, it's still only the start," He wasn't sure why he said that. He couldn't help himself really. Couldn't admit it had all been a joke.
"Of course, teacher."
Samuel slowly walked out of the room, red 'jelly' still in hand as he absentmindedly licked it.
By the Goddess of Magic, what had he done? | “That’s very good work boy; excellent attempt of the incantation, but try sounding out the word before you start… okay?” Ingress picked the last mangled green leg from her curled hair, flicking it to the floor.
The sorceress regarded her student with malice as the small boy reached for their last toad, setting it carefully on the blackened stone pedestal; wiping away a small pile of his last test subject away as he did so. She didn’t know just yet why the boy decided to hide his power, why he insisted on playing the fool, but a nagging inclination told her to wait and keep ‘teaching’ him to see.
“Wes-Ah-thū-si-thoa” his childlike voice was out of place here, eyes too bright as the toad started to glow, spell taking effect. It made the sorceress recoil, a deep unsettled knot gripping at her gut as she congratulated him. He was getting better.
“You think next time I could make it talk?” He was so excited, buzzing at the minor achievement like he’d levelled a small city. She grimaced.
“Clean this mess first. Then maybe tomorrow once we collect more frogs.”
“Okay!”
Normally Ingress enjoy solitude, going to the trouble of moving to a fortress once used to practice the forbidden arts to escape the masses. However, it seemed she could not dispose of the troubling boy who’d arrived half dead on her step little over a month ago, who’d she begrudgingly agreed to teach the old ways. She didn’t want to take him in, but something pulled her to the door and pulled her to bring him in, like a presence over her shoulder pushing her every move.
He was a terrible student, clearly new to reading as struggled through the simplest of spells. But she wouldn’t complain, nor drop him back on that icy doorstep; because what he lacked in skill he made up for in sheer destructive capability, which showed more often everyday.
So she kept teaching the young boy so full of life in that dead tower; creating a deadly monster. | 2021-07-07T17:36:27 | 2021-07-07T17:36:20 | 48 | 15 |
[WP] The Princess was told that kissing a frog with True Love's kiss would bring her the love of her life. When the frog turned into a young woman and not a prince, there was some confusion. | Lighting a candle alone in the woods would look like witchcraft. And probably … maybe … was witchcraft. But the princess was just so sick of being alone. She was sick of rejecting every suitor for this reason or that. She was sick of her father’s questions about who would be the perfect man for her – she didn’t know! She was sick of everyone looking at her with pity after her father died. “Oh, how alone she must feel!” whispered the rumor-spreading courtiers into their fine silk sleeves. “She must have a man in her life, and soon!” She was sick of being laughed at, especially by the Lady of Othioc, who was hardly a year older than her and had every man in the realm wrapped around her little finger. She was sick of all the lecherous stares of sweaty men with grays in their pinched eyebrows.
And so, before a single priest, politician, or prince could worm their way into her life to steal the kingdom, she needed to find her true love, and fast! So what if she found the spell from a witch?
A lock of her father’s hair. The single purple leaf in a red forest. Her mother’s necklace. Her favorite teacup, with a little frog sitting happily in its center, blinking and ribbiting as though wondering if they were about to have tea.
She pressed her hands together and breathed in the incense.
“I invoke the spirits of the forest and the water to bring me my true love,” she mumbled into her cold hands. “Please, please, before it’s too late!”
The princess straightened her leathers. Perhaps she should have worn a dress and not her sweaty riding gear. She swiped her hair back into a loose bun, regretting not wearing makeup or anything to make her look princess-like or presentable.
With a defeated sigh, she lifted the little teacup and brought her lips down to the frog. “Wish me luck,” she whispered to it.
Its bulbous chin sucked in and out.
She kissed it.
She was knocked back, into the pile of rufescent leaves.
“Ow! Damn it! What the hell?!” a familiar voice cried.
The teacup smashed on the ground.
As the princess leaned on her elbows, she saw the gray petticoats of Lady Othioc flattened like a wild fungus among the leaves. The lady’s dress was torn. Moss dangled from her fine black braid.
Her face crumpled in an ugly, furious rage as she glanced back at the makeshift altar. “You were doing witchcraft?! Milady, that’s illegal! You’re the crown without a regent!”
“I …”
The princess gaped at the lady, eyes trailing up her fine dress’s lace and the flush along her sharp cheeks.
“Well?!” said Lady Othioc. “What do you have to say for yourself? I was in the middle of tea in the west end of the palace, and now you’ve pulled me to the middle of nowhere. What do you want to do? Make a deal with the devil or something? Am I to be your sacrifice?”
She held up her silken-sleeved arms, protecting herself as though the princess had a dagger.
“No, I was trying to speak to my father in a moment of doubt,” lied the princess. “I don’t know why I summoned you. Sorry.”
“You should simply listen to your advisors, not the dead, you ridiculous royal buffoon,” said the Lady. “What could the dead possibly have to say to you besides, ‘Ah! I’m alive!’?”
The princess chuckled at the Lady’s odd imitation of an undead voice. She made to grasp her hands bedecked with silver jewels. “Um. Well. Perhaps you could advise me. You see. I am wondering who to marry.”
“Oh, definitely the Potato king of the south,” she said.
“What?”
“It’s a smart alliance, and our graineries aren’t full, and the winter is predicted to be harsh.”
“But Lady, I want to marry for love.”
Lady Othioc scoffed, brushing leaves from her gown as she stood. “Do you think I like flirting with all the disgusting old men of the court? It’s your obligation.”
“But …”
Lady Othioc extended her hand. With shocking strength, she yanked up the princess, patting the filth and leaves from her thighs, admonishing her for her foolishness.
The princess dared to hold her hand. The lady did not let go. But the princess would never tell the lady what that spell had been for. | She’d had certain expectations, the princess would readily admit. Doubts that a transformation would occur at all had been chief among them, for who could truly trust in the magic of the forest, untamed and unknown? She’d been raised on cautionary tales of child-eating witches and prowling beasts that absconded with unsuspecting travelers in the dead of the night. A talking frog had seemed tame in comparison, and it was only her memories as a lonely girl in a cold and empty castle, a girl who had once believed in happily ever afters with the desperation of a miserable present, that had allowed her to take a chance, no matter how slim. Even then she’d braced herself for disappointment, to be faced with yet another blandly handsome suitor like the hundreds her father had paraded before her, each leaving her emptier than the last. She hadn’t believed that magic could reach into the hidden and most secret part of herself, and answer the voice she’d silenced long before it had had a chance to even whisper.
And yet somehow, against all odds, a woman stood before her, haloed by the gentle morning sunlight.
Head reeling, her heart in her throat, lips still clammy from her dubious kiss, the princess stared at the stranger before her in her post-amphibian glory. Wild-haired and sun-kissed, both shoulders and calves indecently exposed beneath the simple shift she wore, she was undeniably gorgeous. And she was staring right back at her, bold as can be.
Unbidden, the princess felt a flushed heat crawl its way up from the back of her neck to the tips of her ears, and it was only years of etiquette lessons that prevented her from pressing her palms to her burning cheeks.
“You’re—“ a woman, she meant to say, but “—beautiful.” tumbled out instead.
The answering laugh, light and full of promise, filled the clearing, and for the first time in her short life the princess believed wholeheartedly in the possibilities of the future. | 2022-04-16T09:48:19 | 2022-04-16T08:55:44 | 38 | 16 |
[WP] You are the young Father of a beautiful baby child and a loving wife. One day, you go out to buy cigarettes, return immediately, but 20 years have inexplicably passed.
Or Mother. I'll extend the title of "shitty parent" to women too, for equality's sake. | "Who the fuck are you?"
I had been putting down a few groceries on the table, just gas station fare, nothing special. A pack of gum and magazine for my wife, a bag of chips, and a little bottle of chocolate milk for the kiddo. I had just finished un-bagging everything when the deep male voice addressed me.
I turned around, slowly, not sure why there was a man in my kitchen. I wished silently that I was closer to the knives, the rolling pin, anything to defend myself. All I had on me was my wallet and a pack of cigarettes in my back pocket.
"Sorry, who are *you?*" I asked, unnerved. This guy was tall, a little taller than me, and he stood in the kitchen doorway in pajamas.
The outfit threw me off. Why would a robber wear pajamas? I got worried. Maybe this guy was some kind of escaped mental patient. My blood ran cold- my wife and child were just upstairs, taking a nap. What if he had hurt them while I was out? I had only been gone for ten, fifteen minutes at the most.
"Don't make me hurt you." The man warned. "Why are you in my house?"
"Listen, punk." I snarled, a burst of courage surging through me when I thought of my wife and kid in danger. "This is my house. I don't know what kind of game you think you're playing, here, but you'd better get out before *I* hurt *you*."
We stared each other down. He looked confused and angry, and I felt exactly the same.
Our silent battle was interrupted by my wife's voice calling down from upstairs.
"Sweetie, who are you talking to?" She asked, and I heard her footsteps lightly descending the stairs.
"Stay upstairs!" I called to her, panicked. The man in front of me shouted the exact same thing. We stared at each other again. Something was familiar about him and it was driving me crazy, but I couldn't quite place...
"Oh my god." My wife said, practically whispering the words. Her face was ashen as she gazed at me. To my horror, the man wrapped his arm around her and she clutched it like a lifeline.
"Hon, I don't understand what's happening." I said, my gaze darting between them. Was she cheating on me? Who was this guy?
"I thought you were dead." She said.
I looked around at anyone else she could have theoretically been addressing.
"Me?" I finally asked when no one else materialized. I took a step forward to hold her, console her, and she backed up. "Baby, I haven't been gone even twenty minutes. I'm fine."
"Who is this dude?" The other man asked gruffly, glaring suspiciously at me.
"He's your father." She said faintly. "And he looks just as he did the night he left us."
"Left you?" I shouted. I was utterly confused. "It's been fifteen minutes!"
She stared at me.
"It's been twenty years." She said, and began crying. "It's been twenty fucking years since you 'went out to get cigarettes' and I thought that you left us and I thought that you died and I raised our child by MYSELF. It has been TWENTY YEARS."
"That isn't possible." I said, grabbing the magazine in a panic. "Look, it's today's date. I just bought this, sweetie, I don't understand what you're saying."
She came forward, finally, and took the magazine from my hand. She checked the date, her hands shaking.
I put an arm around her, and she didn't resist, but didn't react, either.
"See, darling? It's today. It's only been minutes." I said, trying to reassure her.
She somberly slid the morning newspaper off of the counter and handed it to me. I looked at the date.
We were twenty years into the future, according to the paper. I didn't recognize any of the people in the headlines. I looked at my wife, and noticed small wrinkles on her face, strands of grey in her hair, an air of sadness that hadn't been there this morning.
My gaze drifted up, up to the man in the doorway, who was standing deathly still with his jaw on the floor. He looked like me, that's who he looked like. That's why he had been so familiar.
Was it actually possible...? | "Honey, I'm home" I called out. "And I brought diapers!" I added knowing full well she disproved of my addiction to cigarettes. I walked to the kitchen, reading an article in the News on the sex life of conjoined twins.
*The short answer is that we don't know. Conjoined twins, like the rest of us, tend not to talk in great depth publicly about their most intimate moments.* the article ended anticlimactically. I was so engrossed that I hadn't realized where I dropped the box of diapers was on the floor and not the table. As I bent over to pick them up something stirred in the back of my mind. The stainless floor that I had spent last weekend moping was now riddled with discoloration and unidentifiable sludge that was detriment towards the value of the recently tiled floor. As I glanced up and felt my insides cringe as I noticed various items that I recognized, but were entirely different than they were this morning. The only difference was the TV, now replaced with a screen of some sort, that portrayed images of stars with outrageous posteriors.
"What the hell are you doing here?" a voice rasped behind me.
I turned to face a woman who at one time must have been beautiful: her eyes carried a sadness I had seen when I delivered bad news to my patients families. Her hair, a greying mass of knots and strain that could have been once a brilliant blonde. Wrinkles danced along her face, creating age that wasn't there. It was the beauty mark on the top of her lip that made me lose my equilibrium.
"Isabella...?" I managed to say after a few minutes of silence.
"Get the fuck out David"
I stared at her. On the way out I cursed my addiction to cigarettes for making me lose my perfect life.
>Paid for by [Truth](http://www.thetruth.com/) | 2015-11-05T18:33:32 | 2015-11-05T10:58:40 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] After one’s death, the ‘creative mode’ is unlocked. You replay life, except everything goes the way you want it to. Unlimited wealth, complete domination of the world, you name it. Unknowingly, that play-through is what is used to judge whether you belong to heaven, or hell. | “You mean I can do anything I want?”
“Anything”
“What’s the catch?”
“There is no catch, just a way for you humans to fulfil all their earthly desires before fully passing on to the other side”
Interesting. I didn’t have much regrets in life, I had lived a good one, probably a little above average but nothing as brilliant as the people frequently on news headlines.
I let my mind wander as I thought about the major moments and successes in my life, then I began to think of my failures, things I could have done better and then the trivial things that weren’t worth anything in the long run but still stayed with me until now.
I want to go back.
The man in the suit must have noticed my change of expression as he quizzically asked, “Well?”
“Okay.”
————
I went back to the time I was 17 years old and then submitted my application into the military, blessing myself with a good enough physique and a capable enough mind to endure the rigorous demands of the army and spend the downtime learning new skills and information. I’m abusing the shit out of New Game+ but fuck it the beginning steps are always the hardest. Besides I merely gave myself the tools, I still have to carve the product out myself, I hope it’s not considered cheating too much.
The years passed in a blur, I gathered valuable resources, connections, knowledge and exceptional skills. Dealing with people was always the hardest part for me in both lives, I had to reinvent myself and step out of my social comfort zone, the never ending liquid courage and the inability to get drunk did make it a lot easier though. The foundations were laid down, it was time to get out of the army and establish a new shadow government.
I gathered the brightest and sanest minds I could find and installed them in positions of power across the world, while slowly and steadily removing threats that seek to undo my plans, vile men and organizations that seek to fuck the world up further. Players in the game that didn’t understand the objectives of the game.
At this point it made things a lot easier with way less bloodshed. We were able to push for global reforms and solve global issues, sometimes even before those same issues were even issues. I believed humanity is inherently good and I wanted to prove it in this life.
The economic returns were better than expected. World wealth was still concentrated at the top 20 percent because that’s how things goes but with all the changes, poverty was eliminated, everyone had good opportunities and chances in this new world. It was a giant snowball effect that didn’t seem to have any signs of stopping. We were finally able to look towards the stars without neglecting our home, we were finally past Level 1.
In my twilight years, I spent the time raising successors, people who can continue my legacy, people who knew the objectives of this one big game, constantly vetting, testing, finalizing.
Then I silently exited, choosing a small remote cottage in Australia, where she would too choose to retire. I had done my best, my truest and I had no more regrets.
—————
I heard a knock at the door. Without waiting for an answer, the doorknob turnt and the same man in the suit a lifetime ago stood in my cottage.
“Tea?” I asked, smiling even as I knew my time had come.
The man waved away the offer, instead choosing to take a seat on the table across from me.
“You made some questionable decisions but at the end you caught all of us by surprise.”
I nodded as I sensed there was more to come.
“Apologies for lying but this was a test to determine your placement in the afterlife and by right for what you have done, you deserved Hell.”
“But?”
“We appealed for your soul, many of us appealed and the big guys above and below came to an agreement.”
This time it was me that was puzzled by his expression, he was trying to remain professional but he was having trouble trying not to smile.
“You wanna do this again? For real this time. We will help, with an extra favour at the end of everything.”
I thought back to my previous two lifetimes and thought of her again. As long as she is happy I didn’t mind, but maybe I can be selfish, just once.
“Okay.” | "Happy 80th birthday to us, Mr. Gloves!" I whispered to his ears as I slowly lulled him in my thin and wrinkled arms. Mr. Gloves is my twin cat, being born on the same day I was eight decades ago, which is essentially today. Little is known why and how cats always seem to have a *twin* human, and why they also pass away the same day as their destined owner. A theory some people proposed was that they were given as gifts by gods, albeit the rules that come with them, or that the cats were actually our souls.
Weakly, I blew the candle out from the cupcake on the table next to where I was sat as I heard Mr. Gloves' soft purr. He looked at me, and my gray eyebrows furrowed at the sight of the furry creature staring right at me. "Is there anything you want to tell me, perhaps?" I asked, and he responded with a slow blink. "I guess it *is* time."
I closed the distance between my back and my rocking chair, as I did one last weak push with my right foot to send it in motion. Kissing Mr. Gloves' forehead, I reminisced about our times together, the joyous moments, and even the sorrowful bits that he helped me get over. He was there, and he never left me. *This life was good.*
-*Rest in peace, Muning and Sophie.*
(from the replies: cats get to live as long as their humans. that's all i'd wish for, ngl.
ETA: mb if it wasn't clear enough, i purposely left it out lol) | 2020-07-20T03:18:26 | 2020-07-20T02:51:13 | 184 | 127 |
[WP] You are the test subject for an experimental surgery to see wavelengths of light that humans normally cannot see. As you adjust to your new vision, you see one person in the corner furiously taking notes. "Who is that?" you ask. "Who is what?" asks the doctor, looking at the empty corner. | "Describe what you see, fifty-six," the doctor said, "are you experiencing any vibrant reds, blues, or greens in your vision?"
"No, nothing like that," fifty-six said, shaking her head, "Hannah is fine."
The doctor eyed the corner she stared at and put an X down next to his infrared box.
"When we came in you told me you'd be the only doctor administering the test, right?" asked Hannah.
"The person you're seeing in the corner there," said the doctor, shifting uncomfortably, "describe them to me. Do they look brighter than other things in the room?"
"They're taking notes on a clip board just like you are, lab coat and everything just like you, he looks older has glasses, darker skin" Hannah said, "do you really not see him?"
The doctor took his pen and threw it into the corner where Hannah was staring.
"How did your phantom react to that?" the doctor asked.
"He paused for a second then started taking more notes," Hannah said, "the pen passed through his stomach like he wasn't even there."
"Interesting," the doctor nodded, removing a second pen from his lab coat pocket.
"You told me this experiment would enhance the visual range for wavelengths of light," Hannah said, "what am I seeing? Is he behind the wall and just looks like he's in the room with us? Is this x-ray vision?"
"No, unfortunately that's not how it would work," the doctor said, "this isn't x-rays. Does the man seem to be aware of you? Maybe try and interact with him. Does he seem solid to you or transparent?"
"He looks solid to me," Hannah said, "but the pen passed through him before."
"Wave hello to him, see if he's aware of you," suggested the doctor.
Hannah waved to the man in the corner, he smiled slightly and waved back.
"He waved back and smiled," Hannah laughed nervously.
"Excellent," the doctor nodded, "okay Hannah, I'm going to turn off the light for a moment, describe what you see without any light. Sound good?"
"Okay," she said.
The doctor stood up and moved to the wall near his office door, "ready Hannah?"
The doctor stood waiting while Hannah watched the phantom pause to look up, also waiting. His expression changed as he watched the doctor move over to the light switch. He bent over his clip board quickly and began writing.
"Ready," Hannah said, "he's taking more notes."
The lights shut off and Hannah was plunged into darkness with them both. She started screaming as soon as it happened. The doctor winced, turning the lights back on instantly.
"Hannah, Hannah!" he shouted, dropping his pen and clipboard, "what happened?"
Hannah was sitting on the tiled floor shaking, curled up against the examination table. Perspiration was rapidly forming across her face and her teeth were chattering like she'd just been plunged into a pool of ice.
"What's he doing? Hannah?" the doctor whispered, "what did you see?"
"W-wha-what d-d-did ya-you d-d-do tah meeee?!" Hannah screamed, tears streaming down her face.
"I'm trying to understand," the doctor said, "what is he doing?"
Hannah started nodding as she stared into the corner, "y-yes, yes."
She cried uncontrollably, clutching at the doctors arms as she shivered on the floor.
"Can you hear him?" the doctor asked.
Hannah shook her head as she trembled, "Huh-he a-asked me if I saw them."
"How is he communicating to you?" asked the doctor.
"H-he's ho-olding a p-p-piece of p-paper up," she trembled, "it ssh-says do y-you s-s-see th-them?"
"Do you see them?" the doctor asked, staring into the corner, "please. Just breath. Tell me what you saw."
Hannah's muscles spasmed as she held the doctor. He could feel her grip tighten as she started into his eyes. She shook her head back and forth quickly, terrified, growing pale under the fluorescent light.
"D-don't tu-urn the light out again," she said shaking her head, "ch-change me b-back. Do i-it n-n-now. N-now. D-do it now. Now. P-please, d-on't t-turn off the lights."
The doctor held her and nodded, he stared up into the empty corner. The doctor of a different world stared back at them both, only seen by the girl. He looked frightened, the piece of paper clutched tight in his finger tips. *Do you see them?* | "Who is what?" asks the doctor, looking at the empty corner.
I blink a few times but the figure remains in place, occasionally looking up at me, only to squint and continue writing. They seem to be a totally normal person but their clothing strikes me as odd for the lab, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. As I continue to stare, trying to figure out what is going on, the doctor prompts me.
"W-what are you seeing," slowly backing away.
Before I can respond, I hear another voice, "WELCOME." No wait, hear isn't right. The voice was directly inside my own head.
"Welcome to the inter-dimensional community. We always love new members. Please ignore the doctor and follow me."
I look back and forth between the doctor and the figure. The figure gets up and begins to walk out the door and in a split second I decide to follow. "What else is the point of my new eyes," I say to myself. The doctor just stands there, too terrified to follow.
After a series of empty hallways, we finally reach a door, though it looked like no door I had ever seen and certainly didn't fit the lab. It was made of dark wood with a series of gold inlaid symbols circling the center of the door. It didn't even seem to have a handle. The figure stopped next to it.
"Are you ready" I heard in my head.
"Yes."
The figure pushed open the door and I peered outside. It looked similar to how I remembered the outside of the lab but it clearly wasn't the same. There was snow covering the ground and the trees were bent in shapes that didn't quite look natural. The figure stepped through the door, rubbing their arms and seemingly regretting their clothing choices.
"Please follow."
Regretting my clothing choice as well, I step through the threshold, a step I knew I would never be able to take back.
\-----
Thanks for reading. I'm a novice practicing my writing so constructive criticism is very welcome! | 2022-01-16T16:21:29 | 2022-01-16T15:54:16 | 1,972 | 111 |
[WP] When the zombie virus broke out, you were prepared. You quickly became the country's #1 zombie hunter - until science found the antidote to the virus that turns zombies into healthy humans again, retroactively making you the #1 mass murderer. | "I call forth witnesses," said the prosecutor.
Jack sat in the booth, awaiting the executioner's axe. He had shone bright as humanity's savior before a meteoric descent into the monstrous. And now, in a trial live-broadcasted across the globe, earth's finest and lowest were having a blast condemning him to the chopping blocks for having *dared* to do something.
The trial was a mockery of a trial, just like the witnesses. A line of workers dressed in white pushed rolling tables with corpses upon them. Each corpse was hidden under a pristine shroud, but the form underneath and the light in the room made clear these were deader than dead. Not undead, not zombie, just dead and not coming back.
These were the victims of Jack. Rows and rows of them, passing in a silence broken only by the creaking of some badly oiled wheels. Victims, mourned by the population. A monument would be build to honor their memory. That the victims tried to snap at the throats of survivors mere days ago didn't seem to bother anyone in the room.
Quite the opposite, once the gruesome procession finished its tour, the insults and threats started again.
"Order, order!" yelled the judge, happy with the violence displayed towards Jack, "what do you have to say in your defense?"
"Is it a rhetorical question?" asked Jack.
"Do not mock the court."
It was hard not to.
"We were chased by zomb-"
Shouts interrupted him. Now that the undead could be brought back to life, zombie had been deemed a demeaning and offensive term.
"-chased by *sick* people," he sneered, loading each word with a select amount of spite, "trying to kill us, maim us, whatever, and I used self-defense."
"Your self-defense has killed a lot of witnesses as you can notice," the prosecutor chimed in.
"So what was I supposed to do? Nothing while houses were being run over and the occupants massacred? I was good at it, as you noticed-"
Cries, shrieks, the crows was rabid, a worldwide madness, another one.
"-and I used my skills to help people! Today, you show me the corpses of those I killed. Had I not, *you* would be lying dead on the tables. Tell me it would have been better!"
Jack's fury matched the crowd's, his eyes were flaring red and he wanted the people watching to gaze into them.
"You should have followed the orders," said the judge angrily.
Ah yes. Orders. The radio broadcast telling survivors and children to barricade themselves and not go violent, there *might* be a way to save the undead, *might* be a way to reverse the transformation.
Jack spit on the ground.
"We were told to wait for some nerds with glasses to asses a possibility while people died by the hundreds!"
"You killing the turned guaranteed their deaths."
"And doing nothing guaranteed the deaths of the healthy. There was no right decision, but I had to act, couldn't stand by for a possibility while killing happened here and now."
Jack turned to face the crowd, he would have strangled them if it wasn't for the binds.
"I had no choice! You were happy when I came to your home and broke through the hordes to save you. And now that the wind has turned, you conveniently forget the situation of the past day and pretend we always knew what we know today. We didn't! And I had no choice." His voice rose like the wrath of kings, "but if I could go back in time, and I wish I could, I would gladly reverse my actions, and let them kill you. Your murderers would stand where you stand, and maybe they would be more grateful."
Order was broken, the rabid crowd jumped on him and took him outside by force. The police didn't lift a finger. Hits and shoves couldn't stop Jack's furious words.
"But who am I kidding? They would have accused me of surrendering when my strength could have saved many from death. Or they would have found another cretinous accusation. The truth is, I'm condemned for being the only one who *could* do a damn thing to act."
Jack's strength pushed his jailers aside for a moment.
"I'm condemned because I had the luxury of being active. You were passive, harmless and surrendered. You kill me today because I did what none of you could, I'm a reminder of your weakness, your indecision, and you don't like that, do you? What a great scapegoat for your failure I make."
The mass swarmed Jack and carried him high up the stairs and onto his knees, head locked underneath the blade of the guillotine.
Never did Jack close his eyes, never did he relinquish the spite and disdain he held for the fickle, childish crowd.
Jack cursed them when the blade fall.
For years to come, the executioner would tell tales of the Jack's eyes, alight with fire and haunting his dreams to this day. | "All rise!"
The wooden walls of the Palace of Justice did little to stop the chilly winds of Nuremberg. I had always been too sensitive to the cold.
The judge walked up to his chair and sat down, looking down on me. I didn't need him to speak, but he did nonetheless.
"This court finds the defendant guilty of the 12 charges brought against him." There it was, realization hitting me like the truck I used to drive, the one with the metal spikes on the front. What a beautiful car that was, it served me well, too. "For the crimes against humanity of murder, incineration, impalement, beheading, and many other horrible deeds that need not be described here, the defendant is hereby sentenced to the electric chair." Even if you already expect an outcome, like when your old dog becomes sick, and barely limps towards his food, and you know the end is near; even then, when you see it come to be, it compresses your heart.
I will not take this laying down. "You can't do this to me! I was saving you!". The judge stood silent. "Nobody knew they could be cured! I did what I had to...what I thought I had to do, to survive."
"You've had your chance to defend yourself." He spat out the words as if uttering them pained him. "Monsters like you deserve far worse."
"This is a circus! My lawyer doesn't even believe me to be innocent. This is just a show to feel good about yourselves." I turned around to the crowd, populated by cameras and indifference. I looked straight at the lenses. "You all asked for me! Begged for me! Now you have the gall to leave me at the hands of the firing squad. When my flamethrower liberated your towns, was I banished, or was I showered with gifts? When the military proved too pompous to concern themselves with your settlement, did you turn me away? I killed the attackers, I...lost people myself." I clenched my necklace, imprinting the shape of a heart onto my skin. A tear rolled down and clung on my chin. "So when you tell me that I'm the monster, just remember who played Frankenstein!"
"I've heard enough, drag him away." The judge signaled the bailiff, who took me by the arm and pulled me. I no longer had strength. I could no longer fight.
May the next hero die before he can be turned into a villain. | 2022-01-17T13:17:35 | 2022-01-17T12:33:53 | 276 | 108 |
[WP] You are the god of Nothing. Mercy on the fools who underestimate the title. | In between all things, there is nothing.
Nothing surrounds. It encompasses. It suffocates.
I suppose I admire my brethren in their efforts to fashion something from nothing. The effort does not upset me. I enjoy seeing them fritter about. Squabbling from their very inception, finding their meaning only in the battle between somethings. Blissfully unaware that it will end, sooner or later. That something can never endure against nothing. That the very nature of the universe requires nothing to prevail.
Like all of my siblings, they arrive with limited potential, and they expend it recklessly, thinking little of the battle they will inevitably lose. Piece by piece they summon the building blocks of their fragile estates from the ether. Creatures are molded in their image. The building blocks of civilization are laid. A temporary island in the nothing that they might play with. A place to bicker and battle for followers in their foolish desire to declare dominance over one another. Together, they fashion a world.
The world is an aberration. An impertinence disrupting the perfect void that once stood in its place. Even as they build, I destroy. From birth, the world is destined for death. It cannot be any other way. I take delight in the process. The best part of something is returning it to nothing. It is a return to perfection. A smoothing of void.
Many worlds have met this fate. All pantheons that have formed before this one have unraveled. By the time my kin realize my presence, they have spent too much of themselves to resist. They can only watch as their fragile civilizations crumble. As their followers destroy each other and themselves. In the end, the Gods are fragments. Wraiths that dissipate to the ether beyond, exiled until they regain enough of themselves to try again.
Even if the outcome is the same, every world is different. The beings reflect the pantheon that devised them, and the possibilities are endless. But this world is truly unique. The people follow the Gods of Something, but a new sect has appeared. One that has not existed in all of the multitude that have come before.
They follow the Path of Nothing. The embrace the inevitability of something's demise. They work toward its end. Wish for the return to nothing so that they might join the Everlasting Void.
I looked upon them with disdain at first. Something stood in opposition to Nothing. They were pieces of something. Their pleas to Nothing were met with nothing.
But they persisted. Their movement was small and ostracized. The Gods of Something took great delight in the persecution of those who followed the Path of Nothing. As the sect was hunted, they pled for intervention. Begged for divine protection. For the first time, I could sense the trickle of presence. An awareness of those who sought me and worshiped me.
The inevitability of my victory gradually became poor recompense for the indignity of the treatment of my followers. Slowly, I could feel a shift. A desire to engage in a way I had not before. Rather than be at peace with the slow disassembly of all somethings that interrupted the Void, I desired a more aggressive effort.
I was stirred to intervention.
The God of Nothing would do something.
The distant inevitable would become the immediate unstoppable. I would release the void upon this place. Would empower those who sought me out with the tools to unwind the delicate edifice of civilization. Through them, the abyss would be unleashed. The foundation would crack and dissolve.
The Gods of Something would become nothing.
**Platypus OUT.**
**Want MOAR Peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | [Poem]
God of Nothing
They call me the God of Nothing,
A title I know, full-well
Is meant to endear
To lessen their fear
Of my dragging them straight to hell
They call me the god of nothing.
A name that’s decidedly bland.
“No power at all,
No one to heed his call”
They say, all across the land.
They call me the God of Nothing.
The infinite void, always black
They shut up and walk,
Or they stay still and talk,
But they never, ever, look back.
They call me the God of Nothing.
Who sits on a nothing throne,
And wears a nothing crown,
And strolls through nothing town,
And rules over himself alone.
A better name would be the God of Destruction
A god that most everyone fears
I take something they love
And with just a gentle shove,
I make it so nothing is here.
I pity those who believe themselves out of the domain,
Of the God of Nothing, No one, no where, no when, and endless pain. | 2020-12-24T12:29:05 | 2020-12-24T12:08:29 | 93 | 59 |
[WP] The hero disappears overnight, and the only one who looks is the villain. Not their "friends", not their family, not the news reporters or any of the people who claim to love them. Just the villain. | The figure in darkness glared at his computer monitor, honestly ready to smash it like he has the first few dozen. But he knew it wouldn’t change what he was seeing, and that infuriated him. “Damn so called heroes…” Shade spat.
Upon the monitor he wanted to smash was another news report, one about a recent bombing. Not his work of course, as he preferred to stick to his shadows. No, what irked him so was the missing figure of the group of Heroes, one who no one seemed to notice was gone. “It’s been two damn months and not even a small mention of her disappearance! What the hell is wrong with them?!” Shade snarled, before closing the browser window, unable to watch more. “I knew a lot of heroes are entitled pricks, but she was one of the good ones!”
Grumbling and growling, the shadowed man typed on his keyboard a set of commands, pulling up a browser into the dark web. This one was a page he created, offering money and/or services for information. He stopped and looked at the picture of the one he was asking info about, and for a moment his dark heart clenched. A young, feminine face with a bright smile, Aurora had been his nemesis from day one of his career. A meta gifted in the power of sunlight, they had been natural enemies. However, they had formed a an unspoken relationship.
Shade sighed, leaning back. He was a “low level” villain, but only because his speciality was in espionage, B’n’E, and a few other things that required stealth and shadows. He did, however, draw a line when it came to murder and the harming of young children. Having been an orphan himself from a mugging gone bad, he couldn’t put that pain and lots of innocence on other children.
And Aurora understood that. Hell, she even fought against a murder conviction placed on him, and proved that it was the work of a serial killer! Granted his alibi she dug up did come in robbing the city treasury, but you win some you lose some. And she got the right monster put away… he respected her for that. He even found himself teaching her how to better get the drop on other villains, if only so she wouldn’t get so injured from other fights that they couldn’t have their own combat.
But now, she was missing, and no one seemed to care. There wasn’t even a missing person’s report of anyone matching her description across the country, hell the continent! It was like she up and vanished! And it didn’t sit right with him.
Shade sighed, going through the massage board of tips. He was a villain only out of necessity, and he would admit for the thrill. He wasn’t in it to become uber rich or rule a large area, but rather because he’d rather be the one doing the job, and not someone who’d be more… lethal. And it helped that he was able to get tips about muggers, which he would discretely share with Aurora and the authorities for a reduced sentence (which he would then shorten anyways with a breakout, but he digressed).
His anger grew seeing a lot more useless tips, fake info that was obvious, and requests for free services with the *potential* for information.
‘Honour among thieves indeed.’ He huffed, tempted to meet with these fellow crooks just to shut them-
His brain stopped seeing an image posted, and his heart dropped into his stomach. The caption was “I think I found her…”
This guy had found her. Shade knew that face, those vivid blue eyes anywhere.
He also knew that there was a group of monsters he hated more than murders and muggers.
“God damn traffickers!”
**(Part two coming soon!)**
**(Part 2 on hiatus due to writer’s block)** | "you search for me?" the hero said in a teary voice
"ofcourse I do,who'd tell me off,chase me across the city and beat some sense into me whenever I do my villain antics?"the villain asked stretching their hand
The hero stared at it tears falling down
"but why?!,I tried to kill you once and I even spoil many of your plans,YOU'RE A VILLAIN FORGODSAKE! SO WHY! WHY!"........"why is it that you had to be the one that cares?"..."why not them?!,why not the people I worked so hard for to protect?!"the hero said crying histerically
"well because I can,and also I wouldn't pass on a chance to see my arch nemesis crying like a baby" the villain said
"I did not cry like a baby!"the hero said half laughing half crying,the villain wipe away the heroes tears
"there's the smile,now come on ya got a city to save, my plan to spoil and maybe....dinner tonight at my place?" the villain said nonchalantly
"you're a d1ck ya know that?"the hero said standing up wiping away their tear.
" I know darling but that's what ya like about me" | 2021-12-28T22:07:34 | 2021-12-28T20:22:29 | 24 | 12 |
[WP] The hero is dead, the villain has won. But rather than gloat or make demands from the cowering populace, they reveal how they've actually saved the world. From the Hero. | "You... killed him!?"
Despite the mask the sidekick's face showed horrid astonishment.
"That is correct," I reply tiredly while pushing myself up from the ground. "I murdered him with a common butter knife. Of course, it required him to accept a basic reality shift that was anything but common or easy to arrange."
"He has saved millions. Defended this planet from the Qexar invasion and let his own mother die to do it. He allowed another man to raise his only child so it could have a normal and safe life. He gave everything to Earth over the last 100 years. And you killed him.... the world's greatest superhero and protector ... with a butter knife." Tears drip from the young man's brown eyes.
The broken soul does not even flinch as my hand rests on his shoulder. "Not just him Squire. Within the last hour I have killed them all. Hydroman with the flames of Persephone. The Detective by a particularly well timed violin solo, although I am sure most will say it was the ten story fall. Leopard Girl stepped in front of a Tesla bullet to save the League's secretary Mary, who was her lover. Hard to believe of that bigot but it is the truth. Invincible Omen actually made the poison that killed him. Captain Princess ripped out her own heart. Even I was not sure if that was going to work. But the back up plan would have been more brutal so it was for the best. Gremlin finally lost that knife throwing bet. The Gemini's deaths were closer than-"
"Stop...please stop." The shaking hands over his face make it difficult for me to hear him. "This cannot be. It is not suppose to be this way. They are the good guys. They are suppose to win. Without them what are we suppose to do?" As I limp away from him I hear his voice grow stronger. "You have doomed us all!"
I right the chair with the least amount of blood on it. Sitting makes a small groan escape my lips. The Squire's hands are by his sides, trembling but also clenching and unclenching in tight fists.
"Doom is where we were headed if I let a single one of them live. I know you do not believe me Squire. But the story they were writing for this planet, hells this universe, was not one with many more happy chapters for the common folk. It was time for them to go. And I could not take a chance on a more humane way of having them retire from service. Death was the assured option. And so I did what needed to be done."
I pull a flask from pocket and quickly take a dose. The minty tonic burns the cuts in my mouth. The sensation refreshingly painful. The wound in my leg begins to bleed less. I wish I could sit here and sip more. The view from the League's California Tower is breath taking. But I have a monologue to finish.
"You are right though, Squire. They were the good guys and they were suppose to win against a villain like me. Actually since you official joined the ranks of superhero last week I should have said that differently. You are the good guys and you are suppose to win. And so I made one important concession to the fates. I allowed you to be here and alive. The last superhero against the worst supervillain of them all. A chance for you to defeat me one on one and restart the age of heroes. "
A bitter laugh escapes his lips. "You must really think me the naive little sidekick. We both know I stand no chance against you. You defeated all of them in an hour! Some ray or some psychological trick will let you cut me down in the end. You choose me because I am the weakest of them all. The newest to my power. So I will not play your game. End it now. But know with or without me heroes will rise again. And they will right what you have done. "
The setting sun touches the pacific ocean. The oranges and pinks behind the deep purple clouds make me smile. "No tricks, no weapons other then my fists and feet. True, I take a tonic so I can keep up with your like but it doesn't make me more powerful. And this armor barely shields me from your blasts. It will be an even hand to hand fight. I pinky swear on it." My left hand un-clicks the visor from my face, "And as you know John, I always keep my pinky promises."
"Eric... you.... No!" The last word barely escapes his lips before he lunges forward. I push off with my feet and cause my chair to tip over backwards. It allows me to easily roll over my shoulder and avoid his first attack. But I close back with him quickly. No need to let him start charging up his rays and blasting away at me. My armor can only take so many shots before it burns.
He is deadly efficient even with his rage riding him. The moves trained so deep into him it is a language. He cannot help but read my movements and counter with precision. If I did not know his style from years of training with him I would have been smeared over the floor in the first seconds. In fact, there are a few times I even manage to set the tempo and connect. But each time he pulls himself back into balance and pushes the pace even harder. He knows when it comes to physical stamina and strength he has the edge. No matter what synthetic drug I take I will never truly be a powered person. Superheroes always win.
I slip a punch and he steps back, but his arm is raised to protect his head. He doesn't know how good I have become at slamming into the ribs with my kicks. I step to the angle I need and shift my weight to my left leg, my hips swinging my right shin towards his body. But it is a rouse. Something new he picked up. Perhaps when he spent a year with the Young Defenders. His right leg smashes through the knee of my planted leg. Damn, he lured me in so well. Even with the pain blasting through my body I want to cheer him. Such brilliant movement. | Standing under the hot Alabama sun, Mircella could feel her collar start to wilt. She had a suspicion that her greying bob was a bit of a mess. The heat was never like this back in England. She missed the freezing shores and the bleak, identical countryside. She missed the fact that it never stopped raining. She didn't care for America, with its plastic food and never-ending suburbs. England was written on her heart.
She stood and addressed the small group in the field. They were the ones present when she defeated Muscle Man and Ms. Wonderbra forever. They would be the first to hear her tidings of freedom.
Slumped at the top of the stage were the heroes' bodies. They'd both been stunning in real life. Not any more - their bodies were decapitated, Muscle Man's Lycra bodysuit was coated in blood. Ms. Wonderbra's ever-present midriff was broken by a stab wound. It was tough, but you could never be too careful, Mircella had said. Heroes tended to get back up.
"Good evening," she said, to the people gathered in front of her, "Today is the end of the old world and the start of the new. For I have saved you from our real enemy. I have saved you from the dictatorship that would prevail, had they won," She paused for effect, and smirked, "I saved you from the patriarchy."
She put her hand in the air, "The era of superheroes is over. No more muscled slabs of meat. No more useless women in skimpy costumes. No more random explosions. No more pointless heterosexual relationships which add absolutely nothing to the plot, " She tightened it into a fist, "No more white people poncing around with their underpants over their clothes, thinking they are better than the rest of us because they have some powers which, incidentally, they don't use properly."
Mircella started to swing her hands, something she did when she got excited. She was aware that the crowd was looking at her oddly,
"And the only reason they have won for so long is due to the patriarchy that binds us. Repeat after me. Smash. The. Patriarchy."
There was a silence. Mircella started to feel nervous. She could feel the blush starting on her cheeks. When she'd given this speech to her minions, they all broke into a rousing chorus. It was at this point that she stopped and looked over at her audience.
They were all men. Most of them were balding. Pretty much all of them were white. A couple were wearing Republican stickers. Mircella looked up at the sign, just above her head. Was it a far-right party? No, it was worse.
"ALABAMA FISHING CONVENTION."
Fudge.
Mircella looked around in terror, hoping to find a lost liberal. Even any woman at all would do. Suddenly, an idea came to her. She picked up the knife she'd used to kill Muscle Man and Ms. Wonderbra. She held it upright, laughing manically, noting how the setting sun gleamed off the blade,
"Hahaha! I'm so evil! Anyone who dissents from my tyrannical regime will die horrifically. Run, you stupid little men, run! All hail the matriarchy!"
The seats emptied. People were cursing, not screaming, because real men didn't scream. Eventually, Mircella was standing in an empty field. She sighed and sheathed her knife.
Good speech, bad crowd. Next time, she'd choose the venue. | 2019-08-12T11:50:03 | 2019-08-12T11:26:27 | 47 | 17 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | George couldn't understand it. His mom was overjoyed about his father's father ranking, and how abruptly it jumped, and how much higher it jumped. When everyone found out about the mugs, some people bragged, others hid their mugs. His father woke up late on the day of the change, so he didn't have a chance to do anything to stop people from seeing his ranking... and it was a pretty low ranking. Everyone was so confused with it- John was a perfectly good father to George, and everyone agreed. His low ranking made no sense, and most people didn't understand it, which caused people to wonder about how well John treated George. Because of this, George had been getting a lot of strange looks recently and some fairly personal and embarrassing questions. His neighbor, an elderly widow named Mrs. Wilson, had actually stopped him in his driveway on the way to school to ask him one of these said questions. With a look of concern, she stopped George and like all people who have personal questions do, beat around the bush for awhile, and much to George's and Mrs. Wilson's own surprise, she abruptly spouted out, "Has John ever beaten you?" George's face immediately became mortified, out of hurt and surprise that someone would even think to ask that question. Mrs. Wilson, upon seeing this expression, of course assumed she was right, no matter what the boy said next. She would be sure to recall later to her video chat knitting circle how teary-eyed the boy became upon asking this question, and how she always suspected John was actually a horrible person ("You never see him at church, either! What can you expect from someone who doesn't respect God?" Coming from the oldest in their circle, a pig-eyed women who believed all people who didn't go to church were always busy with the Devil's work). George of course told the widow how good of a father John was, and that he had never lain a finger on him in anger, but the old women had already decided she understood, reassuring him that her door would always be open to him. Expecting a far better day to follow, George took off down the street to catch his bus. His expectations died too swiftly upon seeing his friends on the bus, who went silent when they saw him. The rest of his day followed the same pattern.
John had seemed to be avoid the world in the days following the Mug Mishap, always looking extremely guilty to George. George was angry with him, but didn't understand it. He couldn't stand to address it directly and talk to his dad.
Several days before John's mug showed a leap in ranking, John became much more active then he had been since the rankings came out, he went out and started buying toys for a child that was much younger then George. George knew this, because he searched the bags his father brought home. His father then disappeared on a trip for a few days, and during this time his ranking skyrocketed. George grew so excited that he bragged that his father was going to bring him home a great new gift. But when he got home- this was when George became confused. John didn't bring him anything, but seemed far more relieved then how he was before he left. He also now seemed to have a hard time making eye contact with George. Everyone seemed so much more happy, and proud of John that no one inquired what he did on his trip. His Mom even reassured George that it was probably nothing related, and that the proper ratings had just come through while he was away. George anger simmered, because he knew something wasn't right. John started taking more trips, and each time his rating went up. George didn't understand, he saw less and less of John and felt John had become a worse dad. Finally one day after John got back from his trip and George found a picture of a little boy with a note on the back- "You left when he was so young, but he still remembered you. He's so happy to have his father back- and so am I. XO, love Ruby". He showed it to his mom, and he had never seen her go so pale. George's Mom had a massive fight that night with John, and when George got up the next morning, John was gone.
George only saw John again when he came to collect his things, and George's mother refused to let them talk to each other.
Months later, George's Mom found John's old mug, left behind. The mug now looked like how it did the day it was bought- it now said #1 Dad on it.
She smashed the mug on the floor. | It was a rough morning this particular day. Having some beers at the local pub didn't help calm the waves of frustration and tension I had to overcome the last couple years. The patronage was meager at best, and the draft Guinness left way too much to be imagination. I had seen families come and go, but never knew what had happened the previous day. It was called "hello fathers day" and many didn't agree with it. I myself wasn't prepared for the value of 5,627,490. What kind of dad am I to have "earned" such a distinct punch to the gut? Was I really that bad of a father?
The barkeep consoled my sorrow with a fresh mug still foaming over as they used the wooden stick to cut to top off.
He was unusually joyful today after so many father's had learned they too were in the 5M ranks in the local area. The news papers had photos of mugs smashed on the streets as if to protest the unusual events insignificance, whilst showing the world their arrogance and ignorance to the truth.
I looked up from my freshly tasted draft and asked the barkeep why he was in such a good mood?
He replied: You see that hook above the bar where all the other mugs are?
I nodded in acknowledgement.
That's my father's mug!
So? I replied. What's so special about your father?
The barkeep laughed in bewilder of my ignorance to the fact I'd never really gotten to know him, or his family.
Go and get it down from there!
Fine, I must know why you're in such a good mood!
I go to reach for the mug, and within an instant of turning it around the mug displayed the number 1.
I was shocked to see it said "1". This must be a joke barkeep!
No, not at all! He replied.
Who's you're father?
The barkeep flexed his muscles and cried out "John Fucking Zoidberg!"
| 2017-06-11T09:05:21 | 2017-06-11T08:40:30 | 77 | 31 |
[WP] You're a mage that was a programmer in his previous life. You tried to revolutionize magic by making it programmable, but instead you accidently created magical "viruses". Now you're a famous traveler known to be the only one capable of fixing what people can only call "curses." | So much of it could be automated. At least, that's what I had thought.
My knees ached as I bent over, magical chalk in hand, to draw the sigil. It would take an entire afternoon to complete, and for what? A few measly coins.
Then, a thought struck my mind. With bated breath I stopped my artistry and focused on the chalk itself. I closed my eyes and pictured the completed sigil, intricate and beautiful. The chalk came alive.
It danced and frolicked around the room, an expression I could only take for joy. After bouncing up and down some more, it finally began to do what it was born for. With obscene speed it drew the sigil, much faster than I could ever have hoped to. Three hours of work condensed into three minutes.
Satisfied with its work, I clapped twice and returned its magical essence back to the world. It fell onto the ground with a soft thud, and as I tried to retrieve it it rolled under a cupboard. There wasn't much left of it, anyways.
Annabelle thanked me for my work, commenting on how much faster I was compared to other magicians, and I left on my way.
Three weeks later, just after I had dropped my bath bomb in, her son knocked on my door.
"Master Jerlt, we need your help!" he said through exhausted breaths.
"Calm down, boy." I told him. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know! The entire house is alive! The dressers, the mirrors -- even the floorboards threaten to injure us every moment we remain! At first, we thought it was cute, but now we realize it's much too dangerous."
I cringed at the thought of my bath going to waste, but duty called.
Annabelle was waiting outside her home, next to a tent.
"Please, Jerlt, make the furniture stop. I don't know how long I can live in these conditions."
It was worse than I thought. The moment I stepped through the front door a kettle came flying towards my head. I ducked just in time and the kettle flew out the open door, lifeless. At least I had learned something: the curse was limited to things physically inside the house.
On alert, I surveyed the rest of the house, dodging various other small objects which had the gall to attack. A feeling deep within my gut told me to go to the room I had set up the teleporter for them.
As usual, I was correct.
Instead of the sigil that had been there when I left before, a new one stood in its place. It explained all that was happening. This new symbol was used to breath life into things which didn't have any. It was like a bigger version of the spell I had cast on the chalk.
And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. So thin now, the chalk from before -- my chalk -- was flying around the room, like a gnat. It was still so cheerful, even though it was in danger of disappearing.
Watching it float and fly around the room, I felt no animosity radiating out. It just wanted friends, I thought, more living objects like itself. And so it used up the rest of its life, wearing itself thin, all to grand its wish.
"Sorry, old friend," I said to it as I left the house. On the way out I studied every room closely, every bit of furniture, every scuff in the wooden floor, all the weariness of the muted wallpaper.
"You might want to close your eyes," I said to Annabelle. The house was dear to her, and if she saw what I was about to do she'd go mad.
"O-okay," she said, as she did as directed.
A loud crash was heard. Wood burning, cracking, sizzling. Pots and pans banging against each other. Enough dust rose up from the collapsing building to choke out a giant.
"What's going on, Jerlt? What is all that racket!?" Annabelle screamed, coughing from the fumes.
"Just another minute."
Then, I pictured it all in my mind. The chocolate colored wood, the silver pans, the red knitted bedsheets. Suddenly, from the burning wreckage, a new house appeared, indistinguishable from the last. The dust cleared and I went in to inspect my work. A perfect replica, this time with no murderous furniture.
"Thank you so much!" Annabelle said. "How'd you do it?"
I smiled. "A mage must keep his secrets."
Back in my tub, heated back up through a magical green flame, I giggled to myself.
*Turning it on and off -- oldest trick in the book.* | The magical man Todd Howard.
The arcane order of the greatest Devs had assembled the MagicSoft Company creator of Y Box the greatest magic manipulation device of its time had contracted Todd and his team 7 and 1/2 billion gold to make magical software. The SkyEdge game they had uploaded on the kingdom wasn’t perfect but surly the intelligent refrigerator port would cool off the angry peasants. FallIn 67 had gotten then banished out of the last kingdom too…. Oh wait they needed to do something. “The E4 conference is coming up and 4 kingdoms will be showing up interested.” Said Todd “We need something to show off how magical we are and earn more money!” One of the cloaked wizards said “Sir the peasants using a new communicator called “Seddit” are saying “curses” are appearing across the kingdom and random people are getting over leveled as a result of the last magic update.” Another spoke up “Todd the people on YouTub are rioting saying our 50 silver DLC allowing for a new dungeon was quote “more buggy than a trash can fix your magic you #@$&@$%%&$ devs” I think they want us to remove these curses with a free magic rebalance. A third voice started “the Mintendo devs said that Gasp of the Urban was a success because of lots of bug fixing play testing and fun balanced and cheaper DLCs.” Wait WHAT Todd started screaming and launching stuff into the air. “WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT CHEAP AND MINTENDO!” “Silence across the room. No one had the magical skill to beat Todd in a duel the last man to try is still underground in a fragmented state wandering and the one before that fell into a zone of resetting stuck in a loop in the void. Todd then calmly explained “I hear the issues which is why this must be huge something surprising an Ace up our sleeves gentlemen follow me” Todd drew a teleportation circle around them and in a flash of light they stood on a moon. “Welcome gentlemen to the beginning of a new magical experience “SunField”. The devs cheered and then went to work taking clips of their reality to use as Kpegs for the next E4 conference. | 2022-01-21T12:34:41 | 2022-01-21T12:33:43 | 244 | 15 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | “Crap,” I think, “there goes that idea.”
“How do you plead?” The judge asks.
“How can I plead anything beside what you have already decided for me?” I retort. The venom won’t help me here but I can’t help it, I’m angry. Anyone in my situation would be.
I’ve spent a lifetime building my political career. They say that honesty never gets you anywhere in politics but I never believed them. I always stuck to my principles. Apparently *they* were right. In a series of unfortunate events I found myself out of favor with my superiors and falling into the bad graces of my political rivals. I thought their disdain and political efforts would be the farthest they would go to harm my career but it wasn’t my career they were after.
A wielder appeared out of thin air and killed my wife as we both slept. He vanished and was somehow able to make the magic residue of his transference look like it came from me, and not as a transfer spell either but a death chant. How he did it, I’ll never know. I’ve never wielded before in my life. I didn’t even know you could mimic one’s aura’s afterglow.
“Very well then,” the judge says pulling me out of my rumination. “We find you guilty of murder and 9th degree unlicensed use of deadly magic. You are sentenced to death. Considering your claim to innocence and your considerable record before this incident, we grant you the right to pick the death of your choosing.”
“Great comfort there.” I mutter under my breath. I have to think fast. I want justice and this isn’t it.
“I wish to die by…” I have to get out of this somehow. “By…” I’m stalling and the judge knows it. His patience won’t last forever. I need time.
“I wish to be bound as death’s apprentice!” I quickly shout as I see the judge about to bring down the gavel. There’s a sudden burst of murmurings. One person asks, “can he do that?” “This is highly unusual,” another voice calls out.
“Do you know what you’re asking?” The judge asks. To my surprise there is a real look of concern in his face.
“Probably not.” I admit. But it’s my only chance to give he judge my death while also possibly getting justice.
“You are asking for an eternity of living death. It would be a living torment. Are you sure you want this?”
“I want justice.” I seethe. “It has been denied me. The only family I have is gone, my career has been sabotaged, and the real perpetrator has evaded justice somehow.”
There’s a glimmer of uncertainty in the judges eyes. He believes me to be guilty but my request has him second guessing if only for a moment.
“Very well.” The judge finally states after a long pause. “I grant you your request.”
The gavel falls and the change is immediate. The room fades from existence and the world goes dark and hazy. A hooded figure approaches me, reaches out a bony finger and touches me on the forehead.
“Welcome” it says in a hissing long breath. “Thou hast come to be as I have always ordained thee to become.”
There’s a gray flash that sparks on the point of contact between our two bodies and immediately I am dead. My flesh falls away and I’m robed in a shroud.
“I name thee Hades” Death says. “Deliver justice as thou has sworn. Take vengeance upon thine enemies. Bring all that liveth by evil unto Death.” | "HOW DO YOU WISH TO DIE?"
I had originally been banking on using old age as a loophole, but watching that other guy wither into an old man has proven it to be very much not viable. So here I am, I need an escape plan. Scratch that, it's impossible, what I need is a loophole.
"HOW DO YOU WISH TO DIE?"
I could try using paradoxes? No, that wouldn't work. Act of God? Well, Gods. One of them anyway.
"YOU HAVE 30 SECONDS TO GIVE YOUR ANSWER"
Damn. I guess if I am to die, I'll try to take them all with me.
"20"
What could take them out? Magic wouldn't have any effect, they're all the most skilled mages in existence.
"15"
Ooo... that's an idea... existence.
"10"
"Save your countdown, I know how I'd like to die."
"HOW DO YOU WISH TO DIE?"
"I wish to die by being swallowed up by the expansion and death of the Sun itself."
If I am to die, they're ALL coming with me. | 2021-06-24T10:25:27 | 2021-06-24T07:19:48 | 432 | 236 |
[WP] You are a captured spy. Write a letter from prison where putting the first words of every sentence together reveals something beyond the apparent message.
Just a thought I had on the bus. | We're about to be placed into confinement (me and another American soldier named Guy). No public mail or communications channel will be provided to us, and they will be watching. Strangers, whom I might bribe, may be able to pass secret messages and communications. To communicate, we must be very careful, and may resort to flushing messages down the toilet or throwing them out the window. Love to my wife.
You do what you can to free us. Know this; I appreciate all your help. The messages are becoming more and more difficult. Rules for prisoners have become too strict. And the Geheime Staatspolizei haven’t yet found the garrote that I’ve hidden in my cell; perhaps I will use it to escape. So Buchenwald holds The White Rabbit, who lives on for the time being. Do what you can to free him too. I shall explain what I know and what I’ve experienced thus far.
A parachute drop, then a short hike northward of my location reveals underground group leaders. Full searching indicated top Reichssicherheitshauptamt officers in the area. Commitment's difficult as much time has passed since my last survey. What interrogation, torture and imprisonment await us? I’m not certain, but we both know they will be painful. Thinking of my cyanide solution if I cannot avoid execution. Of reaching the US lines, we are losing hope.
You do whatever it takes to support the establishment of the International Military Tribunal and get these damn Nazis. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Get us POWs out. This German General Staff and High Command must pay for their crimes. From Nazi-occupied Eastern Europe, the Einsatzgruppen (mobile death squads) operate with extreme efficiency. Any Kameradenwerk by one Dr. Mengele must also be destroyed (chatter indicated something around Brazil). Other crimes against humanity (murder, extermination, enslavement, etc) are being funded by Krupp family. Guy informed me that the name of the head of the Krupp family - it is Alfried Krupp von Bohlen und Halbach, but I do not trust him as of yet.
I met Guy in the shithole so I cannot vouch for him. Just want to make sure you know that in case he turns. Wanna just make sure. Tell him that we are his friends and lead him out. You know he might have further intelligence. How you get it from him is up to you. I’m almost certain he can point to secret Nazi camps to the north, and might explain what they are doing at those locations. Feeling like he can be trusted, but you never know.
Gotta go soon, guards are suspicious and my courier is coming. Make sure to send help soon. You take care now. Understand that I am thanking you very much for your support.
Never has the world witnessed such atrocities. Gonna perform a full report on Ulrich Heinrich Emil Richard Greifelt. Give it time. You know how it goes.
-Up a Creek Without A Paddle [signed]
| Be home in about five to ten years. Sure, it was a risk to go in alone against that fucking madman. To be fair, I am pretty damn efficient. Drink all night and you'll believe you can do anything. Your job is gonna get immensely harder in the coming years, but hey you know what's weird? Ovaltine is like the only drink they have. | 2014-01-20T16:22:29 | 2014-01-20T15:46:57 | 266 | 41 |
[WP] You're a supervillian. Your power? Making anybody and everybody nearby feel the same emotion you feel except 100x stronger. Mostly you've been using it to force people to donate absolutely all their life's savings into charities. Superheros aren't quite sure how to deal with you. | “You’re definitely getting better at portraying your emotions. What are you doing to get better at crying on stage?”
I thought back to my first encounter with my... quirk. I had just gotten off of a 10 hour shift at work. Stressed as all hell, someone shoulder checked me walking down the street. I’ll admit, after the long day, I kind of just lost it. I screamed at the guy; just unloaded all of my frustration and stress and rage on him. Childish I know. Then the strangest thing happened.
He just jumped on top of me from behind, knocking me to the ground. When I looked up at him, his pupils had dilated like he had just done a couple line of coke at once. His veins were bulging, nostrils flared, it looked like he had just hulked out without warning. My anger suddenly turned to fear for my life. My heart felt like it was a frantic creature trying to break free from the cage that was my chest. I made a frantic little prayer to no one in particular,
“Please please please don’t let me die now.”
The guy’s eyes rolled back into his head as he collapsed beside me. Still terrified, I got up and ran home, not even looking back. Later on, after I had had a couple of drinks to help me calm down, Drink in hand, I turned on the news. The face of my attacker greeted me as a news reporter recited her prompt about how a man had died suddenly of a fear-induced heart attack. With alcohol as my shield against common senses and the otherwise crippling moral ramifications of what had happened, I put two and two together and decided that I had somehow made the man both angry and frightened when I was angry or frightened. Weird.
The next day I woke up hungover as all hell, the memory of my drunken idea pounding in my head along with my heartbeat. I decided I was either crazy, experienced a truly preposterous coincidence, or I was right about what had happened. I decided to start experimenting with a friend of mine who I didn’t mind losing. We went out clubbing Friday night after work when I spotted a cute girl sitting with a group at a table near the dance floor. Curiosity ran parallel with my attraction as I tried mentally projecting my attraction onto my friend. Almost immediately, she started playing with her hair and started chatting up a guy at the bar. Her voice had gone up almost a full octave and she was giggling like mad. A mixture of awe and fear started churning in my stomach, which I kept to myself to keep anyone from experiencing a rapturous insight on the dance floor. I could actually change people’s feelings. Not only that, but others would feel what I felt more powerfully then I did. And that would explain why the guy who attacked me had a heart attack while I stayed safe.
“My first time getting rejected.” Lying had become easier to me since I my realization of my quirk. Unfortunately, this meant it was harder to genuinely feel any emotions worth the name, which was why I started taking acting classes. Sean was a well known method actor in our city, and I capitalized on that. If I could get my feelings to follow the any narrative I made up, I could make anybody feel anything on command while never being in any danger myself.
Sean nodded encouragingly. “Rejection is such a powerful experience everyone goes through. That definitely is a good starting place. How did it make you feel when it happened?”
“Like my world was falling apart around me and I was falling with it. I didn’t know what to do or how to stop it. I liked him a lot. Maybe more than I should have.”
I had found that compassion and pity were good emotions to have people experience when I needed something. You’d be surprised what can happen when a district manager truly feels bad for your predicament with your asshole coworker and pay.
“That’s good! Next time you have to cry, I want you to really lean into that feeling of your world crashing down. Imagine that your world is crashing down around and nobody can see it. I think being lonely makes that feeling that much worse, which will make your acting so much more relatable and realistic.”
“I’m not sure if you could handle that Sean.”
“What?”
“I’m playing around. Next week at six?”
Sean looked at me funny, but nodded and got back into that wide smile that I was accustomed to. The kind of smile when his gums got in on the action.
“Yeah! Next week at six. And you really are doing great.”
“Thank you. See you then!”
As I walked home, I thought about how to deal with my landlord. She had started to act very bitchy about the appearance of all of her properties and had started charging more to help pay for cleaning services and landscapers and what not. Maybe some suicidal feelings would be in order soon.
Edit: spelling | I had done nothing wrong. I mean sure, some of these charities were merely fronts for slipping the money into my own back pocket, but *most* of them were legitimate! All I wanted was for humanity to reach its highest peaks, and we could only do that by working together!
"I've found you at last!" A cold strong voice boomed into my lair.
The Howard smirked, cool and remote. His tanned and chiseled body glistening in the sun.
I cried out, somewhat owlishly and cravenly, "You'll never stop me, what I do, I do for the good of humanity!"
In the breadth of a breath he trounced me, tying me up and declaring me to be another victim of the glory of man and the free market.
I was wrong. He could stop me. He believed in liberty, in freedom, in the choice of the individual. I was no match for his industrious ways. Though I wanted humanity to succeed, it was only the individual who could accomplish greatness.
"Yes, Emozo, I have caught you! Your nefarious ways will plague the great individuals of humanity no longer! Thousands of years ago, when man first discovered fire..."
**Ten Hours Later**
I gnawed at my bindings. I craved only the freedom. Not the freedom of the individual, but the freedom of death. Alas, The Howard did not believe in that sort of freedom, and so he droned on...
"The ‘common good’ of a collective—a race, a class, a state—was the claim and justification of every tyranny ever established over men...."
And on...
"It had to be said. The world is perishing from an orgy of self-sacrificing."
And on..
"I recognize no obligations toward men except one: to respect their freedom and to take no part in a slave society. "
I could not take it anymore and I chewed ferociously in order to achieve one thing. One last act of the individual. I chewed on my gag until I choked on it, projecting my desperation at The Howard.
Sadly, his desperation outweighed mine with all the force of all the free markets of the world.
| 2018-12-17T13:43:40 | 2018-12-17T12:58:16 | 797 | 280 |
[WP] It is the year 4058. Humans have been forced out of Earth thanks to pollution almost 2000 years ago, and now live in Mars after a colonization. You and your crew are just sitting in the office one day and you randomly get a message that reads: “H.E.L.L.O”. The source? Earth. | I might just be the laziest person on Mars. If not the laziest person, then I at least have the laziest job. I come to work and do nothing, all day every day, and the Martian Government pays me to do it. A good friend of my parents somehow found the loophole of a job and "worked" here most of his life. When he was ready to retire he set me up as his replacement and I've been working here since. Well, when I say "working" I mean doing almost nothing. The only real part I'd call "work" is just occasionally making it look like I'm busy, and staying out of peoples way so I don't get noticed.
&#x200B;
Technically my job is "Earth Communications Officer", I'm to handle all communications which come from Earth. Seeing as there haven't been anyone even on Earth to send a communication in a few thousand years, that doesn't leave much work on my plate. From a little digging I did a few years ago it looks like the role was formed before the Evacuation Day. A few years after E Day the role was due to be shut down, but some faction argued there could theoretically still be people left on Earth. So the department was reduced to 1. Gotta love bureaucracy. It seems since then every one who has held the role has done the same as me, the same as Uncle Mick, absolutely nothing. I'm pretty sure if someone caught on now, the role would disappear pretty quickly. Bit of difference arguing there might be people down there now.
&#x200B;
When I say there is no one on Earth I mean it. There have been detailed scans of the entire planet, mostly from scientists tracking the planets condition. The biggest study about a thousand years ago tagged every remaining life form on the dead rock. Not only was there nothing human, there was nothing bigger than an insect left. So there is no way anything on Earth is contacting me any time soon. With the quarantine zone in place around that part of the solar system no one new is going to be getting there soon either.
&#x200B;
Even if there was, I'm not even sure if the system still works. In one corner of the office sits an antique of a machine. I make sure it's on occasionally, but haven't used it. It just sits there with a blank screen. The manual (yeah ok I read it, I get bored) says it should activate automatically upon signal. But surely one of many things could be broken and no one would know.
&#x200B;
\*BEEP\*
&#x200B;
The noise slices the air. I've been playing a game on my holo and I know the noise didn't come from that. I look around and see the old communications system has lit up. Oh shit, the last thing I need is for that machine to break and someone to notice. I wait, but no more sounds ensue. Ok, I should be fine. It can't be seen easily from the door so as long as it stays quiet it shouldn't attract attention. I head over to it, I have my doubts about fixing it, but there was a troubleshooting section in the manual. If not, I can always just turn it off. As I get closer I can make out small text on the screen.
&#x200B;
\# CONNECTION ESTABLISHED #
\> H.E.L.L.O.
&#x200B;
What the hell? How? Who? What do I do? I should just turn it off, no one will ever know. Hmm ... no, that might cause some sort of alarm. I never found that but Uncle Mick was convinced there was one. Do I go and get someone? Ha, I can't even remember who my superior is. And that would be a one way ticket out of the job. No, it's probably still a glitch, it's just picked up a signal from elsewhere.
&#x200B;
\> H.E.L.L.O
&#x200B;
The message repeats. Well I guess I can't just leave it hanging. I sit down at the machine and go to respond. It has this really weird looking tactile interface. Every letter of the alphabet splayed out in some nonsense grid. Finally I find the letters I'm after.
&#x200B;
< Hello?
\> H.E.L.L.O
< Who is this?
\> H.E.L.L.O
\> H.E.L.P
< Who is this? Where are you?
\> H.E.L.L.O
\> H.E.L.P
\> R.E.P.E.A.T
< What?
\> ACBAX25LEEWGUUUZ
\> GYUT3SGMVDPJHWRQ
\> NE6L5JKGTFGQNWS2
< Hello? Who is this?
\> R.E.P.E.A.T
< What? I don't know what that means
\> R.E.P.E.A.T
\> R.E.P.E.A.T
< You want me to repeat those? Ok...
< ACBAX25LEEWGUUUZ
< GYUT3SGMVDPJHWRQ
< NE6L5JKGTFGQNWS2
&#x200B;
\# CONNECTION TERMINATED #
&#x200B;
The screen returns to it's blank state. I don't know what the hell that was. I sit staring at the screen for several minutes. Nothing happens. I try typing again, but nothing happens. Eventually I give up and return to my desk. For a few more minutes I sit there and stare across the room at it. Nothing. I finally return to my game, but find myself giving sideways glances at the machine periodically. I keep the volume low on my game so I don't draw any attention but it's starting to get hard to hear. It's usually a fairly quiet building but the noise is growing. I can't make out what is happening, but it seems a lot of people are talking down the hall. Usually I avoid others in the building as much as possible, but this seems odd, and I'm not likely odd at the moment. I stick my head out of the office and make my way down to the break room. Quite a few people are in there at the moment, and they have the big holo on full blast, a news reporters head taking up the whole display.
&#x200B;
"We've got very little information at the moment, but we are getting reports of the first activity on earth in two thousand years."
&#x200B;
Oh shit, how did anyone know?
&#x200B;
The holo changes to a well known projection of Earth. Several points are highlighted across the globe. One comes into focus and the holo zooms into the area. In the centre of the view is a gigantic mushroom cloud. | "Hey, Joe. Are you sleeping?"
I quickly sprung upright in my seat, "Woah. No. That's not good," I said quickly while quickly hiding and wiping drool of my face. I could sense Clara looking at me over my shoulder, but I was pretty quick and my response drew her attention away.
"What happened?" Clara asked, moving closer to my side. My heart was leaping out of my chest as her fragrance filled my head and I was feeling dizzy again.
I was about to say something as I stared at her face but suddenly her eyes widened in way I thought it wasn't possible. "No," she said in trembling voice. She shoved my chair and in blink of an eye, I found myself in middle of office, spinning in my own chair.
I sprang up and straightened my tie. This was unexpected. I walked over to my Clara, who seem to have taken over my system. I opened my mouth and before I could speak, she bolted out.
"Hey. What did I do?" I said, mostly to myself.
I moved my chair back to my station. It's true - all beautiful women with brains are little crackheads after all. I flicked open my system and it reopened to white screen, blaring "H.E.L.L.O". I grimaced for this nonsense mail I recieved, probably from kid, but I noticed this wasn't mail. It was on receiver screen which really means:
"What the f- did I do?"
-II-
"The message we received is from Earth, you numbskulls, and not some aliens." Director groaned as he threw documents on his desk, "Don't you all had some lessons back in schools or whatever you studied in Module."
"I mostly skipped that part since Earth is most irrelevant part of syllabus in Training Module," mumbled Jane, while slurping her drink. Everyone else is, as usual, silent when inside Director's office. We all were standing behind Clara, who was smiling like a proud parent as her team stood behind her, before Director broke her bubble.
"So?" Clara sprang from her seat and folded her arms. She had that high-spirited schoolgirl attitude which everyone hated.
"So Clara, do you want to send hello back?"
Clara opened her mouth again but Director wasn't finished.
"Respond them back? Do you want to to do that?"
Clara staggered back on his raised voice. "I mean, yeah. We can-"
Director raised his finger and Clara went mum. "Do you want more buffoons like you, here, on Mars. Aren't you people enough?"
Director stood up. "They probably screwed up and next thing you know, they will jump ship to get here. Can't happen. Can't let that happen." He turned toward his little garden behind his chair and gently touched the bonsai.
"So?"
"So what now Clara? Do nothing. It's not first time they tried to contact." Director took a scissor and snipped his little bonsai.
"Sir, if I may," Jane interrupted. "Why don't we send a hostile message?"
"Hostile message?"
"Yeah, I mean, just like the -" Jane waved hands over the pictures on his desk.
"Naked pictures," Director completed sentence. He stood over the desk and looked at pictures and then at her, shaking his head.
"Not ours, no. Just a proof that we are hostile."
He took a deep breath. "Okay. Good. Send me a copy of what you decide to send." He picks up his lunchbox and looks back at us.
"What are you looking at? Go."
- III-
"Hey, Clara. Wait."
I chased behind her as we all headed out of office. She turned back and her face lit up with frown.
"All because of you," Clara squealed.
"What. Yes. True, but I didn't do it all."
"So, how do you explain we recieved that message," she fixed her glare on my face.
"I don't know, I must have keyed few random digits while I was asle-, was multi-tasking."
She narrowed her eyes. I had never seen her like that.
"Do you think we should help them?" I asked, trying to change the subject.
"What do you suggest?" Her face softened as we walked out of gate, together.
"Let's keep this our small adventure to save Earth," I said with a smile, not knowing where and what it would lead us. | 2019-05-07T03:27:33 | 2019-05-07T00:22:39 | 42 | 14 |
[WP] Throughout your childhood you are made fun of for "making up your own language", till Earth is contacted by another race and you are the only one that understands them. | The countless doctors, psychologists, psychiatrists, researchers, and even priests all said I was “just being a kid” or “making it up.” My parents believed me to an extent, but eventually they believed I was lying. I couldn’t explain it – that was the main issue. I tried explaining it as a language, which, looking back, I now realize was a mistake. It wasn’t a language in the way we use language. It was more of an understanding. In this way, everything could “talk.” I understood colors, numbers, animals, nature, and even people, who were unaware of their ability to understand.
It’s like an aura. It’s colorful vibrations that could transmit thoughts and feelings, but not in the way we understand. That’s how I explained it at Show and Tell when I was in 1st grade. I remember bringing in a tree branch and a spider in a jar, and trying to explain how I could speak to them and they could speak to me. The teacher immediately referred me to the school psychologist. That’s when I began the process of getting tested, questioned, and observed. All the other kids laughed at me, called me crazy, and ostracized me. I was always remembered as the kid who could “talk to things.” I started to even doubt myself, but it never went away. I always felt it and could understand everything around me, and I knew that everything else could understand me.
I grew up without friends and usually isolated from most people, partly because of other’s views of me and partly because of my understanding of them. I was able to develop this language of understanding the world around me. I harnessed my ability and could use it. I could emit my emotions, thoughts, and desires to the world and could take in the same from everything around me. My favorite place to be was in nature with plants, animals, bugs, and water. It was peaceful and calming. Humans weren’t able to control what they were emitting, so it was often depressing. I began to be able to understand everyone’s condition. Many were unhappy, stressed, and hopeless. It was sad. I found nature comforting – an escape from the human world.
One day, I found Her. She understood me and I understood Her. She looked human, sounded human, and did everything like any other human. But She wasn’t human. I could tell. I understood. She understood too, and She knew that I could understand. Instantly, I knew everything about Her world. She emitted to it to me, but in a way different from my ability. She could emit more than emotions, thoughts, and desires. It was as if She had emitted Her entire being into me, so that I could understand Her and Her world. It was beautiful. It was peaceful. There was nothing bad, only good. It was a world where even darkness was light. I tried to mimic Her ability, but She understood I could not. She did it for me and took in my being. She understood me, understood my world. Her aura changed and Her emissions changed. I understood that something had changed Her. Then, She spoke, with a tinge of sadness and despair, “What have you done?” I understood.
| *I can understand them, Sir.*
Understand who?
*The aliens, Sir. They speak the language I created as a child.*
Really?! I must say, that's amazing! What do they want of us?
*They told me that want a binkie and Happy Meal.*
I see.
Men, you heard him.
Get a straightjacket and lock this fruitcake up. I don't have time for that nonesense.
Now, about indecipherable signal... Is it just an observational anomaly or...maybe the Russians? | 2015-04-18T14:00:52 | 2015-04-18T13:43:55 | 99 | 35 |
[WP] You’re an immortal 30-year-old-looking serial killer who was sentenced to 1,000 years in prison. After 100 years people started asking questions, but now it’s been 400 years and you’re starting to outlast the prison itself. | "Uh, neat. Uncle Iroh would be proud of me"
That's your first thought when looking at your chiselled body through the reflection in the glass shard deeply impaled in that strange human-like thing's neck.
"Been a while since the raiders came to say hi.
Keep the children safe Matisse - you say, while looking at the pile of bones and rock that kept you _sturdy_ throughout countless nights - I'm off to hunt."
In the last couple of years - or was it centuries? - most inmates were released from the burdening grief of life. You weren't having it _that_ bad at the start. After wandering the world for thousands years, it's obvious that you would make a couple of enemies here and there. A small rest in a not really comfy cell wasn't the worst thing ever happened to you.
Hell, it surely was better than being bound to a rock while your liver was eaten every single day by an eagle.
"That eagle tasted great... I'd sacrifice my firstborn for a piece of that... well, he's dead already, though."
That's the first thing you learned about your immortality. It's yours and yours alone.
During your first lifespan, you couldn't believe your first son would die of old age before of you. You could have noticed something was off if your wife didn't die when giving birth, as she was the only other person around at the time.
A loud noise distracted yourself from the train of thoughts in your mind.
Rapidly, you find cover in one of the nearby cells. You hear some heavy footsteps and a clanging sound coming in your direction, stopping by the entrance of the cell right in front of yours.
Leaning a bit forward, you realize there's no one there even though you still hear that clanging sound.
Without making a noise, you pick a big chunk of rock and throw it towards the entrance of the cell.
"Holy mother of Rocks."
Suddenly, in front of you, right where the rock hit something, a heinous creature appears.
It's a tall humanoid being, with snake-like mandible and fully covered in a sturdy set of green scales.
"Oh fuck, not aga-" it's the only thing you are able to shout before its claw rips through your chest, piercing your heart.
"Those are some thick ass claws, you know?" you whisper in its hears, right before passing out.
You don't like giving the control to Him.
Seeing through your own eyes without being able to do anything is the worst feeling ever. And he knows that very well. He wouldn't be doing all those atrocities if it wasn't for pissing you off.
If it wasn't for your immortal body, you would at least be grateful to him for always taking control and gutting and butchering your enemies whenever you die.
Instead, now you are trapped inside your own body, seeing your own arms ferociously ripping through the body of that snake humanoid. You feel the blood pressure rising, the blood of the creature filling your mouth and a sense of euphoria pervading your senses.
"The hunt has begun."
It's your last conscious thought, before falling prey to the overwhelming desire for slaughter. Hundreds of years avoiding death weren't enough to lock Him. Till His next death, your body was His to control and you could only watch.
The Hunter was now free.
EDIT
Personal thoughts guys:
It's my first time writing something here, I've been following this sub since forever, lurking around and reading amazing prompts. This time, I really liked the concept and tried to write something. It's my first time doing something like that, so I hope someone reads it and likes it! Feel free to tell me if you don't like something or if I've made mistakes (I'm Italian, English isn't my native language) | A pebble bounces from the ridge of his nose as he looks up to inspect the damage to the castle infrastructure.
“Won’t be long, now.” He muses as he waits for the prison guards to arrive. They come bearing paperwork, and lots of it. Some 400 odd years down, a mere 600 to go- and the same damn paperwork every year. “Nearly halfway there!” One of the guards offers small talk as they peer about the room, their eyes attempting to understand each small curiosity the immortal creature has accrued in this decrepit prison. He was touched to notice the prisoner had kept a visitors pamphlet to a National Park he had brought him as a memento from the outside world a few years ago. “All packed up?” Another guard has appeared at the door. The prisoner finishes scribbling his signature a few more times, the last page with a flourish, and rises to meet the new guard. The thought to kill each man in the room and attempt escape rose in his mind but he fought it back, better to see the new digs before encouraging some kind of global manhunt and subsequent generational punishment. | 2020-08-17T02:06:05 | 2020-08-17T01:11:41 | 68 | 16 |
[WP] Ever since you opened this bar, you still don't know why supernatural races, deities, royalty, and/or extraterrestrials keep frequenting the place. You just serve drinks and lend an ear to listen. | Brianna checked it was the water tap before she filled her own glass. The last time she had dared to get even a little tipsy to try and drown the memories, she had woken up with a robotic arm and the ability to understand the language of the gods.
The bar had started out normal. It was the only good one for miles around, and back then it was just drunk college kids and some parties for games coming in. Slowly, she noticed more and more people frequenting it, and then she noticed some of them weren’t people.
At least one of the aliens had been nice enough to hook her up with a universal translator so she could fill their orders and not have to rely on bilingual ones. The only major trouble she really had lately was with the college kids. Or at least they seem like college kids. Look in the right places, they match with some old internet stories of killers. Her consolation was that if they tried anything with her, her patrons and regulars would obliterate them eight ways to Sunday.
Of course the job wasn’t easy, but it got at least seven gods, two worlds, a whole lot of ghosts, deities, indescribables, supernatural entities, and just normal people on her side. The hard parts were when a new one doesn’t get the memo on some of the rules. Which is ever expanding due to incidents.
“Hey! We don’t allow pets inside the bar area unless they’re registered support animals! Keep them to the patio! We don’t have the expanding building charm either, so please keep yourself to a relatively humanoid size to not destroy the building, ten feet maximum, please!” She called to a couple new ones coming into the door.
She watched as the hellhound was sent over to the patio, and they shrunk to normal size, then looked around the bar again. It was usually pretty loud, hence the yelling over the conversations, but if they needed to, she knew it could be so quiet she could drop a pin and hear it. At the moment it was kinda slow, both in staff and in customers, her main server had taken a couple days off, and she was pulling double duty as a bartender and a waitress.
“Two for Zeus?” One of the newcomers approached the bar, and she did her best to look presentable.
“They’re out by the patio. I imagine you’re the last two of the party?”
“Indeed.”
“Alright, what can I get started for you two?”
“A Bloody Mary and a ambrosia shake.”
“Okay, those will be out in just a moment, unless complications arise out here.” She nodded politely and wrote the ticket for the drinks, getting started after a small stretch, keeping an eye on the ongoings as well, which proved to pay off as she dodged a thrown knife which hit the blender she was making the shake in. Which then splattered bits of it all over.
She let out a stream of mixed curses, finally ending on
“Dammit those blenders cost four thousand bucks.” Brianna pinched the bridge of her nose, then turned to the now silent bar, trying to figure out who threw the knife, and if they were human or remotely humanoid, how likely she was to get a payment from it.
“Okay, let me go over the weapons policy.” She ground her teeth in a snarl.
“Keep all duels and fights outside. Knives are only to be thrown at the accuracy board. Don’t pull out weapons indoors, no destructive spells indoors, no blasters, probes, or portals indoors and the latter keep them to the designated room, and if anything breaks, you pay for it. Either in money or relevant currency that can be transferred. So who’s the chucklehead shelling out for the blender?” She snarled with a rare venom.
“Because you either pay, get someone else to pay for it, or you end up banned.” She walked over to the mess that was once a blender and pried the knife out of the wall behind it. Mentally tracing the trajectory, she pointed to the table it most likely came from, and scowled.
The internet college kids.
“So which one of you did it.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the patio group watching, likely able to hear the entire conversation.
“If no one speaks up I will not hesitate to kick your entire group out. You all are not fucking sneaky, trying to use this place as another one of your murder covers.”
“How about I cover this one.” One of the patio party spoke up, coming back into the main area.
“Four thousand US American Dollars, equivalent of seven souls, eighteen silver coins, or three gold coins. Alternatively, 4,050 credits, one small, non-cursed ruby or 3,419 Colomir bits.”
“I’ll choose the gold option.” Three gold coins were dropped into her waiting hand and slipped into a hidden pouch.
“Thank you kindly. It will be a little longer on the shake.”
She watched them return to the party, then fixed her gaze on the group of teens.
“You little shits are lucky. One more offense, you’re gone. I’m keeping this, by the way. Compensation for the wall it was lodged into.” She put the blade in a holster, then went to the other blender to start on the shake again after cleaning up the broken glass and making sure the broken one wouldn’t start on fire.
Some part of her found solace in the fact she knew the tip would be worth it. Though she sighed at the fact the bar had just broken its year streak of not having an accident.
At least there was a group that paid well today. She took a sip of her water and gazed out over the bar, the blender whirring behind her.
She couldn’t call it just another day, but it sure felt like one. | Achilles shrieked as Zeus shattered his wrist with a firm grip, then drove their fists through the old table. The guy had apparently been falling to pieces ever since his adventuring days were brought to an end by an arrow to the heel. We’ve all fallen on hard times, but challenging the god of gods to an arm-wrestling match? Can’t say I’ve ever been drunk enough for that kind of hubris.
Hera had been watching Zeus with longing eyes and shifting her weight on her stool before me at the bar. She recrossed her legs to the other side at the sound of Zeus’ victory, and gave me a lustful gaze while she wrapped her lips around her straw. The woman was beautiful, a real stunner, but while Zeus was of a more open mind these days, that family tree didn’t have enough branches for me to hang my hat on. I did my best to keep things running smoothly.
“You look divine, as always, Hera.” I slid another drink across to her.
She purred and leaned in to whisper some sweet nothing to me, no doubt about to set my heart on fire, when suddenly her drink burst into flames, along with her eyebrows. She screamed and shattered the glass in her hand. Zeus looked over, saw the smoke trailing from her brow, and ventured a glance at the corner booth, where Prometheus and Hades were giggling like children. Hephaestus had been playing darts when he decided to join in on the merrymaking, at his mother’s expense. Upon seeing this, Zeus stomped over to him and grabbed him by the toga.
“Your uncles just insulted your mother, what are you going to do about it?”
“Woah, chill out, man!” Hephaestus cried as he dropped his remaining dart to the floor. “I didn’t do nothin’! I was just playing my game, geez!”
“Yeah, that’s all you do, sit around and play games all day. Your sister wouldn’t stand for this, would she?”
“There it is! Its always about Athena! You love her more than you love me, just say it!”
“She isn’t still living at home and tagging along on date nights!”
I knew better, by now, than to get myself involved. I cast a sideways glance at the corner booth, and they threw up their hands in a mocking display of apology. At the end of the night, the bar was always restored to its undamaged state, the tabs were always payed, and no one ever died. At least not permanently.
The fighting carried on for awhile, but died down as they all cooed at Cerberus having another puppy dream of fetching souls out of the river Styx. I heard the front door open, and in slithered a slender, very tall figure wearing a beanie and an oversized hoodie that obscured their face, but the serpentine whispers and powerful aroma of fresh lawn clippings betrayed the snake beneath.
“No, Medusa, I have told you over and over again that you are not welcome here. Get out, stoner!”
The family drama might be a bit much at times, and I know I can come across quite harsh, but I’ll be damned before I let some burnout turn my bar into some greek tragedy. | 2021-02-22T06:47:44 | 2021-02-22T06:46:48 | 49 | 31 |
[WP] An Alien and it’s Human sidekick roam the galaxy, willing to do just about any job to keep the fuel tanks full. The only issue - most clients have never seen a Human and they’re terrified by the sight of one.
Cake Day Post!
EDIT: wanted to say thank you to everyone that responded! I’ve been reading your stories on here for years & couldn’t have asked for a better cake day! | "Contact in 3...2...1...grounded."
Mirai felt the deck push against him through his magboots. He was already suited up and ready to disembark. Mist began to form as warmer air flooded into the airlock. His eyes flickered across the script from his helmet HUD: mostly green but with a few orange lines of warning. *Nothing deadly but getting a lungful of that air mix will be annoying...*
"Oi, Pooks. Update: The air outside isn't so good for me, so i'm gonna keep my helmet on for the exchange. Also it's dusty"
"Do what you need MeeRah-ee. They offer 10000 credits for safe delivery of goods. Completion keep us running for quarter cycle longer. You eat like black hole, make us always in red."
Mirai grinned beneath his faceless mask. The Brot known as Pook was actually a partially energy based lifeform. As such, just basking in the heat of a nearby star with the solar collectors open would have normally be enough. His physical form was a lump of brown rock which made up his core. As such, it made sense to pair with a biological lifeform. Which was where Mirai came in. Mirai was the muscle, the face, the surgical knife: he did everything automation couldn't.
"Relax Pooks. Since you've picked me up you now have access to every job available and a 100% success rep. Feeding me has made you famous."
"Pook suppose to explore the universe! Not spend millions of credits feeding bottomless pit. Energy conversion chart says you consume more power than Pook."
"Anddd game on." Mirai slapped the big red button to open the external doors.
Mirai strode down the metal ramp and onto dry soil; his eyes locked onto the triplet of small muddy looking mammals that stood a good 10 meters back. Behind them stood a large rectangular box. A quick scan from his sensor suite noted it was a coolant device. Probably some sort of precious perishable. Also way too big for him alone to carry on board.
He waved a hand in greeting and the 3 mudrats scuttled behind the box. Mentally he winced. He kept forgetting he was 3 times taller than most of the creatures that seemed to dominate the local star cluster. Checking that the translator was on he called out a greeting.
"Hail sentients. I am Mirai, subordinate of this rock-ship. I am here to collect the goods as requested."
Twitching noses eyed him from the safety of box cover.
"I am Satik. This cargo is to be delivered to GnarrChk, a Torwen, for the price of 10000 credits. The cargo is contraband and to be caught with it is termination by federation law."
Miria frowned. The Torwen weren't exactly the most endearing of races. Nearly 4 meters tall and pretty damn slow, they looked exactly like how you'd expect a carnivorous plant to look like; gaping mouth and sharp teeth being the most of it. Becoming part of the Federation had thrilled the Torwen to bits, allowing them access to a larger and more exotic food. Naturally the consumption of sentient creatures was prohibited by law, but that didn't stop the less savoury elements of society from dealing with them. It justified the 10k priceline as well. The trashrodent continued.
"Thirty percent upfront and the rest upon delivery. Do you accept the job?"
"Goods inspection first. I'm not accepting anything without making sure i received it in perfect condition and that it ain't dangerous. 2 jobs back some Kogath scum tried to load explosives on us. You understand?"
"We understand, even we have not seen the inside of the box."
Fervent nods sent dirt clods flying in various directions. They stepped aside to let Miria access to the box. Miria strode around the 2 meter long box, quickly tapping in several commands. Even as one side slowly became transparent he scrubbed at the surface with his glove before activating his wrist light.
He froze.
"What is it?" asked one of the furrypests. All 3 were staring at the form within. Satik began to tremble violently as it stared at Mirai's armored back and gears of thought spun fitfully.
"She's human." | John was, just resigned to his life these days.
He was bundled up in two massively overs sized brown jackets that hid him from top to toe. He was following his what he guesses would be his friend now Jozu as they walked through a massive bazaar market on some trash junk world in god only knows what part if the galaxy.
*Why are there so may junk worlds?* thought John.
Jozu was, well, odd. The best way John could describe him was a cross between a silver back gorilla and an octopus. However the creatures he met had never seen a silver back gorilla or octopus so explaining all that very quickly became tiring.
Jozu peaked back at John "Keep up and keep a low profile."
Just then, something or someone stepped on a trailing part of John's jacket, which did a fairly good job of removing both of them and having John fall on his back side, garnering the attention of those close by.
His cover was blown. There was startled gasps and the tell tale signs of the beginning of a panic outbreak. A creature with 5 snakes for a head pointed at John and screamed.
Jozu did not look happy, but then quickly composed himself as the situation demanded.
Jozu quickly came to aid John, stepping close, raising his giant gorilla like arms in an effort to calm them all.
"It's okay! He is mine and well trained! No need to be scared. Bob Marley is harmless" Jozu spoke to the crowd.
John sighed, sat up and spoke, "My name is John. I was listening to Bob when you abducted me". Per usual, Jozu did not listen. | 2020-03-05T23:04:25 | 2020-03-05T22:06:05 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] At 35, you are part of a time travel experiment that sends you 10 years into the past and back again. A malfunction sends you back 15 years instead. With no money, identity, place to stay or means of return for 5 years, you reluctantly knock on the dorm room door of your 20 year old self... | Just a blink of an eye took me from a lab with 40 people observing me to a middle of an empty lot. That was my first clue that maybe it didn’t go as expected. I should be in the same lab that I have been working in the last 12 years. It looks like the same area but not the right time. The park that my office overlooked seems exactly the same just minus the playground that we helped put up a few years back. Luckily for me I notice the Houston Chronicle newspaper rack next to a street light which at least gave me sign that I went back instead of forward. I glimpse into and see the date, Sunday October 29, 2000.
So I was about 5 years off. Shit. Out of all the things we anticipated to go wrong this was pretty far down on our list. Horrible mutilation, being sent into deep space, an explosion were all possibilities but getting the date right seemed easy. Or at least we could have been way off but just five years. So I could be mauled to death quickly by a dinosaur. Possibly killed by a tribe thinking I was an invader. We should've sent a monkey instead. At least then nobody would miss it if we never saw it again. I guess an intern would have worked too.
No one will believe this. The team I have been working with is scattered across the world right now. Besides they won’t believe me if I told them. I asked a passer by for 50 cents which he gladly give to a clean man in a polo and dress pants. It had been years that I had to use a newspaper rack. It took me longer than I would like to admit to figure out the machine. The front page was a photo of A&M when we upset K State. I remember this game like it was yesterday. Probably the only good thing about that season. I would have been a junior. My mom and step dad brought my youngest brother down for a visit that weekend. He would later go SMU My dad was also a SMU alum so I guess it was just his way of connecting with him. He was only 6 when he passed so he doesn’t have many memories of him. It was part of the reason I chose A&M since he met my mother while working here fresh out of school.
The only person I could probably convince was myself. I wonder for a second what would happen if I saw myself. Would it break a hole in the universe? Would the photo of my son in my wallet fade away? I don’t think I have much of a choice.
It took all day to hitchhike to College Station. Again being clean and white played to my advantage on that. I see my truck in the parking lot. This was before my brother would back into this Christmas. I slowly walked to my college apartment that I spent the best years of my life at. Building 6 room 213. I can see lights on and a silhouette in the window. I knock. Not much of a surprise when I see myself open the door. “Hey” a confused, wide eyed kid said. God, I was in good shape then. But at least now I don’t have a hair of surfer bum. I look in the room to see Jess on the couch. She was beautiful as always. Sadly we wouldn’t last much longer. I loved her at this time but we were just on complete opposite paths. “Can I help you?” past me said. I tried to speak but couldn’t. My eyes watered and took a deep breath. “Sorry, Wrong apartment” I muster to speak with a bit of grin. I walk away holding back the tears. I can hear in as the door closes. “Who was that?” Jess said from the couch. My past self replied “I don’t know. But he looks like my dad.” | My name is Joseph and I am 15 years in the past. I knocked on my old dorm door and Joseph, who is also myself, answered.
"Hello Joseph," said Joseph.
"Who are you bro?" asked Joseph, he had a blunt in one hand and a Coors Light in the other.
"Hey dude I'm you from the future can I have some of your weed?"
"Okay," said Joseph.
They went inside and Joseph put on a movie. "So what is the future like?" Joseph was too stoned to care. "What?" Joseph repeated his question again, but he was too stoned to remember it. "We're stoned Joseph," said Joseph.
Suddenly there was a loud bang on the door. "Let me in," yelled a man dressed in an all black suit. Joseph answered the door. The man walked in and presented a badge. "I'm Agent Stone, and I know you're from the future Joseph." Joseph panicked and Agent Stone picked up a stone and stoned Joseph who happened to be stoned. Joseph started to cry and Agent Stone left. Then Joseph buried Joseph and went inside to do some Calculus homework. | 2015-06-06T19:18:07 | 2015-06-06T18:39:25 | 34 | 22 |
[WP] You’re a dragon who kidnapped a prince/princess. All is going to plan but… it’s been a month and no one’s come to save them. | Dragons, by their very existence, were the kind of entities for whom awe and terror seemed intrinsically mixed. Wyverns were all well and good, but they were small, barely larger than a house. Wyrms? The flightless lizards could barely lift their heads to gaze upon the glory of a fully grown Drakon. The others were animals. Magnificent animals, but beasts all the same.
A dragon was different. Ancalagon the Black could crush citadels under heel, wrath in his lidless gaze. Typhon the Hunter was swift; no man had ever seen her and lived. From each beat of her terrible wings a hurricane sprung, which had a bad habit of devastating anything close enough to lay eyes on her.
Yet among them, Tiamat, Mother of the Brood, was the greatest. Her onyx scales were said to heal the gravest of wounds, for within their glittering facets constellations would shine. Her breath was the primeval fire; pillars of force that could raze the earth itself. Even the gods were wary to try her, such was the age and power of Mummu-Tiamat, first and eldest.
&#x200B;
\-and she was very, very unhappy.
&#x200B;
*What do you mean ‘they’re not coming!’* She roared, and poor Faye had to clasp her ears against the sound, squeezing her eyes shut as if to block out the echoes.
The dragon had so far been nothing but cordial. Her theft had been a monumental affair, but Mother Tiamat had borne her with surprising grace, setting her down gently upon the stone. From the cavern mouth, some hundreds of feet into the air, she could spy the kingdom of Doriath, but it would be impossible to go back. For one, she would have to climb down either barefoot or in the heels she had been taken in, and either was a ghastly thought.
When she looked up, Tiamat was pacing, agitated. “I’m sorry, mother-Tiamat, but they will not come for me.” Privately, Faye wondered how she would die. Eaten? No, she was too small. She barely came up to the ancient one’s toes. Crushed was far more likely, even if by accident.
\-but this was Mummu Tiamat, she did nothing by accident.
Right?
&#x200B;
*Why would they not come? You are the princess, yes?*
“Yes.”
*-and you are next in line for the throne of Doriath, since your brothers were tragically eaten.*
“By one of your brood, yes. Not a disrespect, Mother-Tiamat, just an observation.”
&#x200B;
Tiamat’s leviathan head swept around. Her pupils alone were the size of a house, and so it was unclear if the drake was looking at Faye specifically, or at something in her general direction. It was, after all, a very big cave for a very big dragon.
*Explain then, Faye, Daughter of Farathir, Son of Farathrim. Have the towers of Doriath grown so cold as to abandon their young? When has cruelty slipped her knife between the ribs of compassion?*
Faye took a deep breath. She let it out.
“They have a new heir now, Mother Tiamat. I am…unnecessary.” Her voice held steady.
&#x200B;
The cavern shook.
&#x200B;
*Unnecessary!* Tiamat growled, her temper like lava against bulwarks of stone. *So that is why they have taken one of mine; to find a replacement for their sons?*
Her tale thrashed, and somewhere in the distance Faye thought she heard the tell-tale signs of an avalanche.
*What of their daughters, do they not think you capable?*
She shrugged. “I doubt it, Mother Tiamat. Patrilineal lines of succession rarely favour women.”
“Honestly, I was just there to attract suitors. Once my brothers were born I was deemed useless, and sent to Master Rudaban’s tower to study. It saved the Royal Court the cost of my lodging, anyway.”
The following silence was deafening.
&#x200B;
*So,* Tiamat began, and that her voice was deathly even sent fissions of worry down Faye's spine. *one of mine devoured your prince, who foolishly thought he could challenge the clutch of Tiamat and live.*
*Your wise men thought to balance the scales. So they came in the night like thieves-*
Twin-thin streams of flame shot out of her nose, melting the rock.
*-and ensorcelled one of my young with their magicks.*
&#x200B;
One terrifying, gleaming eye came to rest upon Faye, and there was no mistaking that Tiamat was looking at her now. *You are just collateral in this squabble. I took you, thinking to begin negotiations with your king, but he will let you go for the price of a Drakon-child.*
*Is that correct?*
&#x200B;
There was a pause.
&#x200B;
"Yes, that is correct." Ah, there was the tremor in her voice. Was it fear?
Tiamat smelt the air. No, not fear. *Grief.*
This little affair was rapidly turning into something...interesting. She cared not for men, bumbling oafs as they were, but this child. A swaddling-babe, if barely that. It had not passed her notice that the girl had not cried once. Not when she was taken. Not when she was brought to Tiamat's cave.
\-and so she came to a decision.
&#x200B;
*Then let them keep Mikralleor. If they are so foolish as to not recognize your worth, there is no doubt that they will not recognize his.*
She swept her wing out, easily the span of a city-wall. Yet despite its size, it grazed Faye feather-light, like a tender caress. Around them, the cavern began to glow, revealing towering facets of crystal. They cast a strange light upon Tiamat's face, for the look in her eyes was alien.
*You will stay with me, and be one of my brood.*
"But-!"
*Child, what has been done is not the natural order. Those that are living are not meant to be treated like the dead. Someone must rectify this. You shall live here, and I shall teach you what I know. Upon your adulthood, you may decide where your fortunes lie.*
*That is the cycle. Parents raise their children, and let them go. We dragons do not squander our gifts so, for each egg is of-us. They are precious.*
&#x200B;
Faye looked around. The cavern was indeed spacious. She could already see a private nook, high in the corner, where a bed could be. Maybe a bookshelf-?
"What of your son, though?" She asked. "Are you not worried of what they will do to him?"
Then Faye heard a sound she never could have imagined. Laughter. Belly-deep laughter, rumbling from Tiamat as she shook her head.
&#x200B;
*Child. Did you think I took you for worry of mine? Mikralleor is strong already; no weapon of man might kill him. If anything, I suspect he let himself be taken out of boredom.*
Tiamat tilted her head, where in the distance Doriath stood.
*No child. Soon he will find the city not to his tastes, and then he will do what children do best. He will throw a tantrum.*
&#x200B;
Faye then noticed, however faintly, trails of smoke starting to waft out from the city. Within minutes, a fire had started, quickly wrapping around the marble of Doriath's citadel and leaping from home to home.
All too soon, the proud walls of the Kingdom of Men began to crumble.
*I did not take you for my son's safety, Faye-who-was-of-Doriath,* Tiamat said.
&#x200B;
*I took you for theirs.* | Soveliss walked calmly down the halls in his human form. In his hands is a tray of bread and a bowl with honeycomb in it.
He gently knocked upon the door of the princess's room, "Princess Elizabeth? Are you awake yet?"
He patiently waited as he heard her walk to the door and slowly open it, "Yes, I am up." He looked at her, his face emotionless, "I have bread and honey for you. If you would like, we can contest our wits again in the dining hall."
She looked at Soveliss, "Today marks one full month since my capture, correct?" "That is correct," he responded, " I must admit I am rather surprised no one has come for you by now. But now, you should eat, we may talk when you are done. I shall be in the dining hall waiting for you."
So the princess ate and washed up using the water and tub that Soveliss provided her when she arrived. She then dressed herself and met with the dragon im 'his' dining hall.
"Dragon" she softly called as she walked into the hall, " I wish to know more about this place, more about you, and perhaps most importantly my purpose here."
Soveliss look up from the table slowly, "I believe I spoke my name to you several times since your arrival, I will ask you once again to call my by my due title rather than my partial stature."
She sighs, " Fine...Soveliss, my first question is why I am here."
Soveliss takes a deep breath and looks at the princess, "You are here because I have taken an interest in the lives of human royalty."
"So I am here to entertain you?" She looked offended even saying it. "No princess, not entertain, not in such a fashion at least. You are more here to inform me of the things I question you about. I was also hoping that a few knights would come to rescue you, but it seems that they are either too lazy, frightened, or preoccupied to attempt to rescue you."
The princess looked sad for a moment before taking a good look around the room, admiring the craftsmanship of the castle, letting the cold air surround her.
She looked back at the dragon in his human form and admired the clothes he wore. He was dressed almost as a commoner but the cloth itself was a light tinge of red and purple.
She sat across the table from him so that they were about an arm's length in distance. "So, what is it you would like to learn from me and I assume from the knights you had hoped to meet?"
Soveliss paused before answering, considering his words carefully, "I would like to learn more from different cultures and people. I have already learned from the commoners of your land and royalty of other lands. Culture of the varying human lands intrigues me quite profoundly."
She seemed satisfied by this answer, "Okay then, why make this castle your lair? It has been abandoned for centuries as far as I'm aware. Is it not more like your kind to take what seems to be more glamorous than something old and decrepit?"
He almost showed some amount of emotion as she spoke, speaking him into a most detestable stereotype. He sighed as he responded, "Princess, this castle belonged to me many centuries ago when I first claimed it. It was a gift to me by a distant lord whom I faithfully served."
"Who would work with a dragon? And why give you a keep as a reward when you can hollow out any old cavern?" The princess's words nearly stung what pride Soveliss did have.
"Princess, this keep was given to me because the lord I served could no longer protect it himself. That and he was aware of my want for cultural artifacts, so this keep was the perfect gift. Besides, I have always enjoyed the human form for its own qualities. There are many things a human can do that a dragon cannot."
The princess takes her time to process the dragon's words, "I understand now, but what of hoards? Are not dragons known far and wide for possessing legendary treasures?"
Soveliss did not respond immediately, not even after a moment, he considered his next move carefully. "Princess, as you may tell, I am no normal dragon, but I do have a hoard yes. I must say though, the hoard I possess is of little value to me in terms of it's monetary value. For me my hoard is more...a trophy."
The princess seemed confused, "A trophy? But as far as I can tell you do little to collect treasure nor have I seen even an ounce of your gold. What could it possibly be a trophy of seeing as no trophy of war would be hidden easily."
Soveliss replied much quicker this time, "You are correct, it is not easy to hide, but yet not a soul has seen my treasure hoard in over a century. If you would like, I can show you."
The princess thinks about it, then eyes the two wooden boxes sitting on the table next to Soveliss. "Soveliss, what are these boxes for, they catch my eye more than your treasure at this moment."
Soveliss smiles, "Princess, these are two games that I have collected over my many years. The first game is called Chaturanga, the second is called Alquerque. Both are games I deeply enjoyed playing with nobles of distant lands in years prior."
Princess Elizabeth looked at the dragon, "Well Soveliss, you seem to have a choice then. Show me your treasury, or teach me these games. Do neither and I shall be inclined to not speak of my noble life in your halls."
The dragon smiled, no longer able to hide his excitement, "Let us start with Chaturanga, I can tell that you will be most excellent at it." | 2022-11-24T15:04:35 | 2022-11-24T13:59:56 | 180 | 31 |
[WP] Is the year 2090 and everyone carries an ear device that instantly translates any language. You married an amazing foreign woman & decide to learn her mother tongue as an act of love, then discover you didn't fall in love with her personality, but with the ear device get-along editing feature. | Luis let out a long sigh as he tapped his fingers on the kitchen table. He shouted something from across the house—there was a pause, and then a soft, soothing voice: “where’s dinner, honey?”
“Coming right up!” I declared, opening the oven door as a wave of heat and rosemary enveloped me. With my oven gloved hands I removed the large pan from the oven. I removed a large knife from its drawer and began carving the chicken into smaller pieces.
Another yell assaulted me from the other room followed by “do you need some help?”
“No, I’m fine,” I responded before grabbing two plates and bringing them into the dining room. I delicately placed them on the placemats before heading back to the kitchen to grab our dinner.
It had been 8 years since I found out about the Cotton Candy upgrade to our translators. It started off as one of those features that’s automatically enabled on your device—one that made everyone sound nicer to each other. Around that time the update came out I was on my annual summer trip and met Luis, a handsome business executive. He was kind to me and we had so much in common—hiking and cooking and dancing. Without the translator, I would never have met the love of my life.
Shortly after we were married, something changed. I could tell by the way he said things to me—he spoke more shortly, spoke louder. But the translator spoke to me in that same soft, loving tone it always had. I honestly thought I was imagining things—how is it possible that his face could be saying one thing but his words were completely different? I thought back to the Cotton Candy update and figured it must be adjusting the tone and content of his words.
Nonetheless, I stayed. I learned Spanish over the years in the hopes that I could translate what Luis was *really* saying to me. Unfortunately with the translator, It was difficult to actually hear Luis’ words—it was more a jumble followed by the words translated in English. Looking back, I think this was an excuse. Really, I was too afraid to find out the truth about what Luis was saying to me.
While my love for Luis faded, my love for the translator did not. I stayed not for Luis but for that voice that always knew how to calm me down, knew exactly what to say to make me stay.
After I gave Luis his dinner, his first bite was a piece of burnt chicken. Everything was a blur—plate smashed, chicken flying, fingers curled, hot white pain, blurry vision, burning tears.
I ran from that house, jumped on the bus and headed for the nearest Translator Store.
Holding the side of my face, I walked up to one of the employees. “I need my translator removed.”
It took nearly 10 minutes to remove the circuitry from my ear. The employee only said one thing to me: “Once the translator is removed, you will no longer be able to understand anyone speaking another language and you cannot reinstall another translator. Are you sure you want to proceed?”
“Yes.”
After the translator was removed the employee spoke to me again asking if there was anything else he could do for me. It took me a minute to realize that he was speaking to me in Spanish. In all these years married to Luis I must have picked up enough Spanish to translate on my own. I told the employee I was fine and left.
I should have gone to the airport, flown home and reunited with the parents that hadn’t seen me since the wedding. Instead, I found myself standing in front of the home Luis and I shared, fumbling to find my key and hand shaking as I inserted it into the lock. I slowly turned the doorknob and stepped inside.
Luis screamed at me for leaving, told me I was worthless and that he knew I had no place else to go. Somehow I understood what he was saying to me—but the translation in my head was the Cotton Candy voice saying that he was worried about me and loved me and never wanted me to leave him.
I told him that I loved him and just wanted to do right by him. He responded by hitting me across the face.
As I lay on the floor feeling Luis' foot breaking my ribs, and that voice telling me how much he cared about me, I wondered if the Cotton Candy feature was ever on in the first place.
| The beginning was like a Jane Austin novel. There were glances, there was conversation glittering with promises that went beyond the lips. We were in love, and when we discussed marriage it was as clear as day.
They call it the seven year itch, or at least they used to. Now it's more like the seven month itch. His words have not changed but my reception of them has. They feel stale, rehearsed, re-hashed over hundreds, thousands, maybe millions of conversations we've never had.
In a last-ditch attempt to spice things up I turned my attention to his native language. I learned in secret, reading in the bathroom, listening on the train, and befriending the young intern who by some coincidence was a native speaker.
When I was confident I wasn't going to insult his mother I took the last step. I stood at our front door, sans I Over, and put my key in the lock.
I greeted him with his own words, fully expecting to hear the same back. Instead I reeled at a barely-concealed insult to my timekeeping. My thoughts of seduction flew swiftly from my mind, and I cobbled together a reply in his language detailing my less than glowing review of my husband's cooking skills.
Silence.
His head emerged from the living room with a puzzled expression, his fingers twiddling his device. I repeated my sentence, watching him carefully. He clicked the I Over off, and so began an exchange of words in language far coarser than I'd heard offered by the translator.
Readers, I never knew love could be like this. Passion of the body was described in clinical, empty terms in biology. Passion when the mind is stimulated is... quite different. | 2017-03-14T10:31:01 | 2017-03-14T08:16:57 | 967 | 120 |
[WP] You've accidentally killed the Devil. God makes you the new Devil to replace the one you killed. | "Put on the suit."
"You're kidding me, right?" I said as I looked at the business card God had just handed me. His face hadn't changed from the moment I told him I had killed the Devil to the moment he had walked me through every layer of Hell there was. He remained stoic, cold, and almost, happy. "This is exactly like *The Santa Clause*."
"I'm not familiar with it," God said, but I heard him snicker under his breath.
"I put on the suit and I become the Devil right? Lucifer, the big guy downstairs."
"I prefer the Fallen Angel," he corrected, but nodded. "That about sums it up though. You killed him, and as much as *Death* wanted that job, you beat him to it."
"Oh, great, so Death is going to spite me for eternity?"
"Well Death hates everyone. You might have more issues with Love and Hope, they had a semi-working relationship with him." God shrugged, "Listen, I don't normally get my hands involved in the Demi-God business, but when a mortal kills one of 'em, I have to step in."
God wasn't who I expected him to be. At all. You always hear the stories that He's some great man, or woman, with a heart of gold and a loving attitude. But God really wasn't any of that. Instead, He was lumbering and didn't seem to care about anything involving us, the mortals. In fact, I'm pretty sure He excused himself in the first few minutes of our conversation to laugh about how I killed the Devil.
I guess it was kind of funny. "But, how could I become the Devil?"
"You put on the suit."
"No, no, that's not what I mean. I'm just a regular woman, I don't have any special talents or--"
"Yet you managed to kill the Devil."
"In a drinking contest! Not a contest of who-can-control-hell-better-than-the-other-one!"
God smirked. "Man, I can't believe he lost. He always bragged about how well he held his liquor. What did him in again?"
I shrugged and tried to remember the past 24 hours. At the beginning, I met a man at a bar. We got to talking, it turned into a drinking contest, he confessed that he was the Devil and I laughed. Then I woke up with God standing above me and a dead-Lucifer next to me in my apartment. According to God, we never did the, well as God put it, "the thing you do when you marry someone."
"I think it was moonshine."
"Ha!" God laughed, "What an idiot." He shook his head and pushed the suit out towards me, "Not important. What is important is your new job. You'll reside in Hell with your own mansion, control about 50,000 demons and archangels, and you'll get to visit the mortal plane whenever you wish."
"Listen, God, I just don't think I'm the best fit for the job."
"Why?"
"Well, I'm a woman to start off."
"Nonsense, Death was a woman for a brief stint in the 30's, 40's, and 50's. Hope's been a woman for sixty years. Gender doesn't mean shit to us. You think I created Eve to beckon to Adam?"
I smirked.
"I created Eve to kick Adam's ass into gear," he sighed, "he was the fucking worst."
Then I laughed.
"Listen, it's not an easy job. Eternal damnation and all that isn't something people *sign* up for, but it's the one you got. Plus, you have 50,000 people to do your bidding, you get a sweet-ass mansion, all the mortal money you can ask for. And your rule is the begin-all-end-all in Hell."
"Yeah, but don't I have to like, torture people and commit them to an eternity of suffering and all that?"
God shrugged, "Half of their lives is suffering. What's an extra eternity going to do?" He threw his arm around my shoulder, his white robe flew behind him. "It's not an easy job, not by a long shot, but it can be fun."
"Fun?"
"You're telling me you didn't enjoy drinking the Devil to death?"
I smiled, He was right. I did rather enjoy the parts of the night I remembered.
"You get a lot of power, too. Torture, suffering, all that shit is just one part of the job. There's plenty more to it."
"Like what?"
"Well, let's call it creative freedom. The Lucifer you killed, he used to hit the Mortal plane every week or so and cause mayhem. I think his best work was back in Ancient times, split the Alexander Empire up perfectly."
"He caused that?"
"Can't have a mortal rising to power like a God, now can we?"
I shrugged. "Well, you're letting me, and I'm nothing compared to Alexander the Great."
God laughed, "That may be true. But you did something no one in human history has ever done."
"And that is?"
"Kill the Devil with his own creation."
_____________
*/r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more!* | *Oh man John*, I thought to myself. *You're gonna be late. Come on. Show me some luck...* My fingers crossed instinctively as I neared the intersection. *Still green, still green... yes!* Just one more turn, I'd be on the street. Then I'd power park, sprint- good think I brought the handkerchief. I couldn't be late. I was already on thin ice with my boss, and he wasn't the most understanding of people. Come to think of it, probably the least understanding.
*Almost there. Almost there. Oh no. Where's my lanyard? Where's my goddamn lanyard?* I felt around for it. No dice. I craned down for a second to check by my feet. Aha! I spotted it. John Wendley - Comcast - Second Level. *You're safe-*
"Yaaah!" I slammed the brakes. *Errrrr*. Too late. *DOOF*! My fender struck a man and sent him to the ground. I rushed out and to the side of the man. The boss. Not just my boss. The fucking CEO. *Shit.*
He wouldn't move. I checked his pulse. Nothing. I panicked. Strange though, no one else seemed to be around. No witnesses, except, what was that presence I felt then? *Of course.*
"Fool!" The voice boomed from, it seemed, everywhere. "Watch where you're going."
"Go to hell" I retorted, almost mindlessly. I didn't mean it. Something compelled me.
"John. You have killed the devil, and in doing so upset the balance of good and evil. A real bang-up job. You know the rules. You are sentenced to take the place of the devil, assume all responsibilities, and just for being such a screw-up, a partly docked salary."
*Nice going John.* I thought maybe it couldn't get worse than *servitude* to the devil. I never cease to surprise myself.
"Let us consummate the transfer of devilship." My ex-boss's body raised into the air and then dissipated in a cloud of ash, save for the golden badge, 'Comcast - CEO' etched on it. It flew toward me. *Screw this.* I batted it down with my hand and ran for my car. *What are you doing John? Did you just decide to try and outrun God?* I hopped in my car and revved the engine. *Yes I did. Screw Comcast.* I gunned it. | 2016-12-09T09:01:17 | 2016-12-09T08:39:14 | 397 | 111 |
[WP] A necromancer, instead of building an undead army, decides to use the undead to solve all of the world's problems. | “Alright, that concludes this board meeting of NecroTech, Inc. Thank you all for coming, and I will see you in six months. In the meantime, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out and Barry will see that all your needs are taken care of. Remember, this is your company, too. You bought it, after all.”
A chuckle washed over the room. That line always got a laugh, though God knows why. It wasn’t a particularly good joke. I suspect it’s because, despite all of the money that I’ve made for them and all of the time they’ve known me they still weren’t quite comfortable with the idea of necromancy.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame them. It can be a hard pill to swallow: not only is magic real, but the only known form it takes involves the manipulation and, in particular, the animation of dead things. But these people knew a good return on investment when they saw it, and I wasn’t going to argue with their money. After all, I can only do so much good for the world spending my nights digging up graves by hand.
I smiled and waved as they funneled out of the glass-walled conference room, then headed for my office, my assistant in tow. When we got there, he closed the door behind us as I went to take a look in the mirror.
“What do you want first sir, the good news or the bad news?”
“Hm. Give me the bad first,” I replied absently as I examined the top of my head, gingerly poking at a bit of exposed skin.
“Well, the mayor of Atlanta called during the board meeting. He said that they’ve decided not to move forward with the new plant there. Too much resistance from the church lobbyists would be my guess, sir.”
“What’s the point of holding the power over life and death,” I muttered, “when you can’t even stop balding?”
“Sir?”
“Nevermind. Call the mayor back and let him know that we understand his hesitation and we’re willing to give up 15% of the proposed tax breaks. Remind him that the entire west coast and 80% of the Midwest already runs on our undead energy. If he wants to be part of the gray-green revolution, this is his chance. If you need to, insinuate that we’re having luck with Jackson. That should get him moving.”
I glanced down at my watch and cursed. “I’m late for my Hayley’s soccer practice. Have the car brought around. You can fill me in on the rest on the way there.”
Danny nodded and hurried out the door. I took a moment to compose myself and smooth down my hair, then walked over to my desk to retrieve Hayley’s present. It was a toy bear that she had mentioned liking the last time we walked by the toy store. I just hope that it made up for missing her birthday. Again.
As I bent down to grab it from the drawer, I heard a knock on my door. *That’s odd*, I thought. *I’m not expecting any meetings. Barry would have told me*.
I walked over to the door, present in hand, and pulled it open. I only had a moment to register a face twisted with hate before the revolver went off into my chest. One, two, three, four, five, six. The revolver was empty before I could react. Hey, just because I have mystical powers doesn’t mean I have super reflexes. I’m not Superman.
I am, however, a lich.
As the smoke cleared, the man’s face slowly turned from righteous satisfaction to wide-eyed horror. He stumbled backward, but instants later my security detail rounded the corner and tackled him to the ground.
“Take care of him, will you?” I brushed past them and headed for the stairs. Hayley would never forgive me if I was late to *another* practice.
The off-white Chevrolet pulled up just as I reached the sidewalk. Barry eyed the holes in my suit as I opened the door and slid into the seat.
“Trouble, sir?”
“It was nothing,” I said. “But I will need another-”
“Already done, sir.”
I smiled. It was good to be the boss. Especially when all of your employees are unblinkingly obedient undead minions. | "Seriously, what's wrong with raising a family?" The ghastly figure stood before the court. His body was frail from decades of life past the prevailing life expectancy. "I am telling you, I am just a family man." There were mumbles.
The loudest came from directly opposite him- if he was still a him and not yet an it- was his biggest rival- the owner of the Watergate copper mine. His bloated body and warm face were stark contrasts to the defendant.
"Family values, guys, that's what its all about."
The judge spoke up. "Family values?"
"Yes. I keep families together. They mine for me."
"Willingly?" asked the rival.
The skeleton shrugged. "As willing as your employees too." If he had lips, a smile would have formed. "Some of by best were recruited from your firm."
There was bluster, outrage and absurdity that day. A few minutes after the torrent ended, the judge spoke again.
"To paraphrase, you suggest your mine is simply safer, hence your words 'thanks to Yours Truly, mothers and fathers can come home to their children every night.' Am I right?"
A pause. "Indeed, my lord. You might remember some years back when the Applewood family had their tragic accident?"
The judge nodded. "A parent and the children. A fire while the father was at sea. Never saw the man again."
"It took a long time to get reunited." The skeleton pulled out an ivory box and opened it to reveal a framed image of four skulls. "But you see, we have all the time in the world now, and no one else need suffer my fate..." | 2018-09-11T19:51:15 | 2018-09-11T19:41:17 | 102 | 19 |
[WP] After thousands of years on a generation ship sent out to colonize the universe, nobody alive on board the ship believes in the "myth" of Planet Earth anymore. Until they receive the first transmission from Earth in hundreds of years... | "Sir" said Vivian, the ship's AI. The name of course was chosen at random and no one on board had raised any concerns about it.
"Sir, we aimed our outboard scanners at what is calculated to be the direction of planet Earth yesterday. We made a few minor adjustments and began to receive transmissions. Due to our relative speed and the distances involved, the signal had to be run through an analysis-cleanup pattern."
Captain Demitri sat there in stony silence, his years of experience running a generation ship having given him the strength to respond only when it was absolutely needed. "Unbelievable," he thought. "The blue planet does exist. But after so very long, is it still habitable? Are the residents anything like us?"
"Vivian, is the signal recognizable? What are we getting from them?"
"Sir, it seems to be an audio-visual signal that is viewable at 29.9 frames per second" came the reply "As we ran the analysis, I had to use various algorithms to make sense of the transmission. This seemed to work"
"Well, what are we receiving then? Can you run it on my display?"
"Absolutely sir. It is in formal English sir and seems to be a video detailing how to build a time travel device."
Dimitri raised an eyebrow. "Time Travel?"
"I believe so sir. Playing it now"
Dimitri watched in silence until the end of the video. He played the video again a few more times and then asked Vivian to call in Pertubo, his second in command and also look at the data to extract the technical information that was meshed in. The transmission included embedded the actual instructions for engineers within the video data.
Pertubo walked in, saluted and stood in silence, watching the captain seated with his eyes closed in thought.
"Pertubo. It would seem our plans to find a home for humanity has changed."
"Sir?" asked the second in command.
"Watch this video" replied Dimitri.
Pertubo watched the video, and then played it again one more time. He asked many questions and Dimitri answered as best he could. They called in their top scientists, mathematicians, eminent psychologists and even sociologists. The impact was undeniable and would have far-reaching consequences.
It was 4 months later that the announcement was called. Every single member of the ship was asked to set aside everything that morning and listen in to the captain as he spoke to them.
"Earth is real. We left the blue planet eons ago in search of a home on our ship, called unironically,"Hope" because, due to human folly, the planet could no longer sustain its resident population. The leaders expected they would go extinct sooner or later and put together all the resources they could muster to build, furnish and send away the ship. After the ship departed, they continued to search for a way to save the planet. It was a mad, mindless rush and they threw everything they had to develop all the sciences they knew no matter how abstract. It was pure chance that someone discovered the underlying principles of time travel. And traveling through time also meant that space could be traversed. They did not fully understand what was involved in changing the past, but they could observe the past to see where things had gone wrong. It would not save them, but it would help them understand and be at peace with it. They sent parties back in time to observe events (and there were many) that resulted in their present predicament. And while this happened, we were well on our way to the distant stars.
As they understood their past more, they began to jump further back. It's in one of the jumps that they found out the nature of humanity. Alongside Neanderthals and what they thought were early hominids, they saw men and women walking upright, using complex tools and speaking in fairly developed languages. A few more exploratory jumps answered the remaining questions. They then used whatever remaining resources they had to build a transmitter near Pluto and transmit in the direction of Hope. That is the transmission we received yesterday. They have asked us to build the time travel device and make the jump back in time and space to the location of where Earth was. They have assured us that we will arrive safely on earth in its dim and distant past and populate it. It would seem that we, the residents of Hope are not just the future of mankind.... but its ancestors too." | No one knew what the buzzer meant when it went off. A high pitched, whining sound droned from the command center, seemingly echoing through every hallway on the ship. We quickly scrambled to decode the sound, a dozen people were assigned to this task force. We scoured every page of the manuals, both end user and service. After twelve hours of deliberation, some spent on hold with our tech support team, until we reached a solution.
Scrambling through the menus on the control panel, we finally found the source of the buzzing. "One (1) new message," the screen read. With as much anticipation as nervousness, we opened the mail.
"Urgent message from Earth," sweat collectively accumulated on our brows. "Prepare to perform ligma."
Confused, we again dove into the service manuals. Yet there existed no mention of the ligma procedure. In desperation, we wrote back: "What is ligma?"
Ten years passed. Ten years we waited, always on edge, always awaiting the return of that buzzer so that we may learn of what our future beheld, and perhaps of what became of our past. The reply came at the most opportune time, as over the years crew began to grow stressed, paranoid even. Talks of mutiny rang through the halls, falling on ears already clogged with hopelessness and thoughts of mass suicide. Finally, after ten long years, the buzzer rang.
We amassed to the control center, and those who couldn't fit in crowded around the nearest speaker to hear the message. The commander chimed over the intercom, anticipation hung in the air as thick as the walls that surrounded us. The captain, without introduction, read the message:
"Ligma balls lol." | 2018-08-28T10:36:33 | 2018-08-28T09:35:09 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] An S-Rank adventurer casually sifts through their quest log and notices they still have an uncompleted D-rank request. With a chuckle, they decide finding the farmer’s lost cat could be a relaxing change of pace— they were gravely mistaken. | The remaining cultists ran away when seeing me charge another lightning bolt.
I thought I'd have to fight more of them, considering my luck during this quest, but they quickly realized how much I out-leveled them after my first spell disintegrated over a dozen people.
All that remained was searching the abandoned temple for that stupid cat. I couldn't believe I had finally cornered it. My excitement couldn't be contained. I was probably more motivated to finish this mission than when I defeated the dark lord himself.
This quest had taken me close to a year to finish. It took me all the way across the continent. I fought ogres that held the cat hostage, only to have the feline run away. Then it got adopted by an evil pirate crew, who fought to the last breath in order to protect it, and then, when I finally got my hands on the kitten, a hurricane struck our boat and left me shipwrecked on a remote land where minions of the dark lord still survived. All of them wanted me dead since I killed their boss.
And, of course, the kitten was nowhere to be seen when I woke up.
This was all my fault, though. If I had done the quest as soon as I accepted it, the cat wouldn't have strayed this far from its home. I didn't even know why I kept going. The reward wasn't noteworthy to someone of my caliber, nor would anyone important really mind if the cat stayed lost forever.
Not even the farmer was too bothered by it.
Most people would've given up by now. Perhaps I didn't want anyone doubting my heroism, or I was too stubborn to give up on a low level quest, or maybe I just needed a distraction after entering early retirement. Either way, I couldn't wait to be done with this journey. Never again would I search for lost pets. I think I'd rather fight a dragon instead.
Finally, after navigating through the overgrown vines of the abandoned temple, I stumbled upon a huge oval-shaped room with a big fire pit in the middle. A dark hooded figure stood on a ledge over it, cackling with manic laughter as the flames rose higher than his lofty stature.
"You arrive, hero! I waited for this for a long time! The dark lord will be avenged, and everyone will remember my name!"
"I don't even know who you are..."
"Of course, where are my manners?" The figure pulled back their cowl, revealing himself to be an elf. "Surely you recognize me now, right?"
I narrowed my eyes, failing to identify him.
"You must be wondering how I'm still alive, you see-"
"No," I interrupted, "I really don't care. I don't even know who you are."
"It's Vulen!" shouted the elf. "Claw of the Dark Lord! Y-you literally ruined my life! How could you forget?"
I shrugged.
Vulen blinked a few times, stupefied. He acted like he had just been slapped in the face. "We literally fought to the death. You invaded my lord's keep and I almost killed you."
"That doesn't narrow it down in the slightest."
Vulen paused for a moment. "I... I think I get it, you're just pretending you don't remember to get in my head. Well it won't work, hero! I'm far too wise for that!"
I rolled my eyes. There wasn't time for this. I started charging up a lightning bolt only to see the cat purring next to the elf's leg.
"Surely," said Vulen, "you've realized by now that I'm the one behind all this. I've been guiding this cat all across New Gaia ever since I realized you were looking for it. And it all led to this moment! My sweet vindication!"
I sighed. Throwing a lightning bolt would also fry the cat.
Vulen grabbed the animal by the scruff of its neck and dangled it over the fire pit. "Since you value this creature so much, the pain caused by its sacrifice will bring back the Dark Lord in all his glory!"
I didn't know what to do. After all the effort I went through, I couldn't bring myself to kill the cat, even if it was the right choice. I'd rather fight the dark lord again.
Just as Vulen was about to let go, the cat bit his finger and crawled inside his robe. The elf couldn't fight back. The cat kept scratching him all over until Vulen stumbled and fell into the fire pit.
I wanted to die, assuming the cat fell along with him, but then saw the kitten purring innocently on the ledge. Perfect. I just needed to slowly approach it and hope it didn't run away again. As soon as I stepped onto the ledge, however, the cat widened its big blue eyes.
"Please," I begged, "don't."
The cat simply meowed.
"Seriously, I can't take more of this."
The cat tilted its head, confused.
I took a step closer.
The cat didn't flinch.
Good. I took another step, more confident than the last. Nothing would stop me this time. I quietly grabbed the cat and looked over my shoulder, hoping nobody would screw me over. Everything seemed clear.
And then the ground started quaking.
The cat looked at me for an answer. I hung my head, defeated. What now?
A gigantic purple demon jumped out of the fire pit.
It appeared Vulen had transformed into a monster by the ritual he created. The demon wasn't just trying to kill me. It also wanted revenge on the cat. What followed was probably the hardest battle of my life, not just because of the demon's strength, but because I had to keep the cat close to me so that it wouldn't escape.
The fight lasted close to twelve hours. I used all of my spells, all of my potions, and broke my enchanted sword, but I emerged victorious in the end. That didn't mean I succeeded, though. My wounds were too great to simply leave the temple. With each step I took, I felt my consciousness slipping away, until I fell on my face, too exhausted to stand up.
The cat meowed in front of me.
"No..." I mumbled. "Not again..."
The cat was pure evil. This cursed creature would force me to keep hunting it. I was sure of it. All throughout this journey, I had seen it cozy up to the strongest person it could find, taking advantage of their power before abandoning them when it wasn't convenient anymore. It would definitely do the same to me. As I closed my eyes, I found myself oddly at peace with that.
I wouldn't keep chasing it. If it wanted to be free that much, then let it. The only reason I hunted it was because I was too proud to admit that something was beyond my skills. This wasn't the case anymore. Following that path would just lead me to the same place Vulen ended at.
Once I woke up, I didn't even try to look for the cat. I limped my way out of the temple, ready to go back home empty handed, only to see the cute little fella waiting for me at the entrance. Nothing made me happier than this moment. Still, despite how good it felt to finally return it home, I swore to myself that, for the rest of my life, I would forever be a dog person.
----------
>If you enjoyed this, check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | Adventure came in many forms and shapes and sizes. Danger trailed behind it like a cat stalking a little bird. With caution, you'll be able to see the cat lurking but that doesn't change the fact that when it jumps your life is suddenly on the line. That's why it's important to always be cautious and never let your guard down. Hell, listen to me, I sound as if I'm talking to a bunch of rookie adventurers.
I guess that's how I've felt ever since one of my party members died. The terrible event happened five days ago and whilst we were on a D-rank quest. Simple quest's had no business being on our quest list, yet we'd accepted it near the start, and we thought it would be a fun experience to do what we had to do then.
"Nobody's found my cat I tell ya," the man said. Perhaphs he was considered strange. For me he was considered slightly less normal. The title *strange* was reserved for mad witches and crazed wizards. Their magic seemed to have pushed their insanity beyond what's human. "She's still out there, somewhere. I can taste it."
"Bullshit is what I taste," our rogue spat.
"Brendan!" Our healer bonked his staff with her head. "Be kinder."
Our mage and ranger giggled. I got ready to stop Brendan from leaping across the table and shoving his daggers into Alicia, and our paladin had a grim face. He always had a grim face. Never told us why though.
"Beware," the man said. "There's a danger in the forest. At night I can hear it howling."
"The most dangerous thing within fifty miles is Alicia's goddamn virginity. Anything remotely shaped like a cock should be careful."
Needless to say Brendan was bonked once more, and his face turned redder than it already was.
"You're underestimating it!" The old man spat. "I used to be an adventurer in my days and whilst my body has corroded my mind is still sharp like a blade in the moon. Be careful."
"We will," the pladin said. "Thank you for your advice."
"Bah! *A blade in the fucking moon.* Clearly your mind's just as corroded as your body."
*Bonk!*
"Damn you hag!"
"Ahem!" I said silencing the room. "We apoligize for not completing this quest sooner. You must understand, other things got in the way."
"The princess-fucking tongue showing its skill."
*Bonk!*
"I will slaughter your children."
"Don't worry," the old man said. "Get my cat back and you'll be forgiven."
"Do you have any of the cat's hair we can use to trail her?"
"Yes, yes I do. I will get it."
"Something Alicia won't."
*Bonk!*
Brendan lept across the table.
The table broke; Brendan was choked; I found a dagger in my gut; blue magic shone; the paladin looked even grimmer; something passed me out and I woke up on his shoulders, Brendan on the other; my pouch felt a little bit lighter and the wound on my stomach had dissapeared.
"We've got a trail," the mage said.
"Amazing Greta, now Charles *will you put me down?"*
The paladin grunted.
I wasn't quite sure if the cat was alive. I guess it was a similiar feeling to the one I had at the funeral. I'd never really felt like this. After a certain while the whole thing felt like a game. At worst of times we'd grazed death or found ourselves captured but it was never anything permanent. *Never anything permanent.* Yet now it was.
I'd stood in front of armies and held speeches. I'd rather do that again than stand in front of family and friends and talk. I sounded like a four year old child weeping and sobbing between every word.
Right well. I wasn't sure if the cat was still alive. Give or take it had been about fifteen years since we accepted the quest. Odds were it had died out of age, although there was a possibility it was still alive. Some cats got old.
Now old cat's weren't neccessarily well equppied to survive in the wilderness, but old cat's were wise cats and that certainly increased the chances. There was also magic to factor in and that made anything possible. Well not literally, but that's certainly how it felt when you thought about it.
To me it was certain that the magical trailing Greta had gotten would either lead us to a larger animal, which would mean that the cat had been eaten, to a patch of dirt, which meant it was dead below, but let me tell you that I had no fucking idea what leading us to a staircase in the middle of a lake meant.
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I've got to get going now. I quite enjoyed writing this and I'll finish it in a couple of hours. | 2022-06-22T06:57:10 | 2022-06-22T06:28:31 | 72 | 14 |
[WP] One day, browsing reddit, you decide to click the random subreddit button. Upon doing this, you discover a subreddit obsessed with you, with posts lincluding everything you've been doing until a few hours ago. | So, I rarely am on reddit. I use a throwaway pseud that I don't use anywhere else. Yet today I was browsing through /r/random/ and there, for all to see, is /r/badcorvidisboring/.
I'm like "WTF?", so of course I click on it.
Holy shit, batman! Yes, I know I'm boring, but you don't have to stalk me with grainy drone/telephoto/spycam pictures to prove it. I mean seriously, pictures of me sleeping with my light on with my cat laying on top of me - which got more upvotes than other recent shots probably due to the cat!
What I can't figure out is who and how they got shots of me reading Twitter in the can at three am. The reactions were... interesting. Who knew that people were that obsessed with dull people. I must admit that my expressions when reading some of that stuff were... um... interesting (if you like seeing people frown or scowl with rage, that is.)
At least the most popular posts were the ones where I was with my cats. I think they are actually the stars of that subreddit. Still, pretty creepy if you ask me.
I know that my roomies aren't on reddit... or are they? Shit, now I have to set up a sniffer on the main house router, and hope they aren't using independent mobile hotspots.
Anyone got an EMP bug zapper for sale?
Hmmm, hit refresh...
Oh, hell, they've noticed that I am walking around flipping off the world, and that my cats are looking at me like I'm more nuts than usual. Time to hug the cat and look cute for upvotes.
Creepy as hell, it like there's always something taking pictures if I'm in my room or my office and the light is on.... hmmm. Time to look at all the pics and triangulate on camera angles to find the damned things.
OK, my mind is going 90 miles a minute. As I look through a few years worth of pictures, a slowly increasing number of angles apparently, I get this cold chill feeling of being watch, stalked, and on display, like I was in a fishbowl. I'm mentally tallying possible camera locations, and wondering why this thing is so popular that it has 2000+ viewer online with even more subscribed. It's got to be the cats. Maybe I'm just an incidental, and the viewers really just want a cat cam.
Hit refresh...
Oh, great. I think they've figured out that I've figured out that they are stalking me... (Whew! Convoluted thought process, messy reality.)
Some clown is asking me to strip. Downvote that ass.
WTF? Whoever is doing this has now started a livestream, focused on my face. The upvotes are now climbing through the roof, even though I'm not good looking. This is bizarre. Maybe it's the same kind of thing as the pet rock - so dippy it's kinda cute.
Geeze. I'm too far into WTF-land. Time to turn out the light, go get dinner, get sleep and deal with this shit in the morning. Oh, BTW, if it's my roomie, his ass will be homeless very shortly. FML.
On second thought, I'll go to dinner and leave the light on so people can watch the sleeping/loafing cats.
I have been afraid to read many of the comments. I don't think my self esteem can take the hit.
Shit, I'm hungry and scared. Food, then thinking.
I'll wave as I leave the room. Keep 'em guessing. | You immediately turn off and unplug your computer. For the next few hours, you pace around your living room, periodically you think to close up the curtains, then soumd proof the doors with duct tape, unplug all appliances. At about the two hour mark, you realize your phone is still on. Somehow, you had subbed to the subreddit and received a notification that you had barricaded yourself in. So angry, so afraid, you pitch your phone against the wall, shattering it. The sound of notifications continue to echo through the house. You slowly approach the phone shards. There, amidst the pieces of your $700 phone and $3's worth of crumbled drywall, lay a larger shard of the phone's screen. You peer at it and can almost swear your own reflection is smiling back at you. You grab it up, yelling "Try following me where I'm going, now!", as you run the razor-like shard through your jugular vein. Your body collapses, the phone piece protruding an inch from your neck, blood running down your chest. The last thing you hear is another notification. Anyone reading tje subredit, reads "I'm dead", just as you pop up through a portal, shouting "Wait, don't!"...you were too late to save yourself. | 2017-10-26T16:36:41 | 2017-10-26T14:04:34 | 68 | 36 |
[WP] it is now legal for children to be sent to jail with adults. You are a man in jail, and your new cellmate is a 6 year old boy. | Dan was awoken by the sound of his cell door opening. He shrunk back in his bed, pulled the covers right up to his neck. The last time he had heard his cell door open in the middle of the night, he had felt a searing pain in his side moments later after he was stabbed by Crazy Chad. But it wasn't Chad. It was a guard, and he wasn't alone.
Dan could only see the kids silhouette as he entered. *Not a midget, please* he thought. His new cell mate stepped into the light. It was a child, wearing black and white striped pyjamas with a teddy under his arm. The guard closed the door. Dan and the child looked at each other quietly as the guard walked away.
Dan tried to speak but his throat was dry and he couldn't find the words. Finally, the child spoke.
"What's your name?" He said. Shit, the kid wasn't even scared and Dans hands were shaking under his covers.
"Dan. What's yours?" Dan replied. The kid ignored him. He climbed into his own bed and threw his teddy on the floor. Dan was more tempted to pick it up himself than he liked to admit.
"Why are you in prison?" The little boy said. Dan didn't know what to say. He'd told everyone else that he was in for the murder of his ex wife, but he wasn't. He would become Chads new bitch if he told them the real reason. But this was a kid, what would be the harm?
"I lied to some people for some money." He finally answered. "Nothing bad. I'm not a bad person." He said. He didn't know why he was saying this, why he cared what the kid thought of him. He reminded him of his own son. The son he hadn't seen in 4 years. "We're not bad people, kid."
"I'm bad." The kid said. He sat up in his bed and faced Dan. "I'm naughty." He said.
"No you're not, kid, you must be like 6 years old. You're not bad. You shouldn't be here." Dan swallowed the lump in his throat.
"I am." The kid insisted.
"Why? What did you do?"
"I killed my sister and my mummy." The kid said, his voice flat and emotionless. Dan sucked in a breath.
"Well, it was an accident, right?" Dan replied. It had to have been an accident, he was a kid.
"Nuh uh." The kid shook his blonde curls.
"You didn't do it on purpose. You didn't mean to." Dan said.
"Did too." The kid said in a petulant voice, like Dan was denying him his favourite ice cream. Dan didn't know what to say. "Casey was crying and she wouldn't shut up, and I don't like crying. It hurts my ears. I put a knife in her tummy and then mummy was crying and it was too noisy. She fell down the stairs." The kid said. "Are you noisy, Dan?"
Dan pulled the covers over his head and popped his thumb into his mouth. He wanted Chad. | I had heard about this before. Nanotechnology being used at conception to create the perfect human. Free of disease, free of genetic defects. The perfect humans. What they didn't take into account was how quickly in the womb these children would develop. How smart they would become.
They didn't consider the 9 months of maddeness and insanity due to the total isolation while growing inside their mothers.
I suddenly remembered a book I had read while in the marines about child soldiers and strategists. I knew I wasn't staring at a fictional savior of humanity.
I was looking into the cold dead eyes of pure evil. | 2014-05-25T06:37:45 | 2014-05-25T06:10:14 | 101 | 65 |
[WP] It's been nearly two millennia since the last Dwarven kingdom sealed itself away. Today while excavating a new underground cart highway your team of Dwarven engineers broke through into Grand Central Station, in New York City. | It was just another cavern, not unlike the hundreds we had seen before; only this one had lights.
"Caldrey, Are ye sure this isn't a Togindor area?"
"I've checked the map nigh short of 40 times since breaking through cap. There shouldn't be nay a soul in this area."
The area was vaulted, with the top rock a good 20 dwarves high. There were primitive machines lining the walls, metal pipes, wires... But so far away from any known dig sites?
"What depth are we at Caldrey?"
"We should be no more than a hundred dwarf length above Kilea."
"Oh rat shite on a shovel, we dug too high for this area. EVERYONE BACK IT UP AND ON THE DOUBLE..."
The words were immediately snuffed out by the clanging and laughing coming from deep within the other side of the cavern, as if bringing noise to our station was priority based... one at a time please. It was too late to repair the walls and hide. We were here, out in the open with our beards in our hands, slack jawed like a bunch of prepubescents seeing their first power hammer.
There was a silence at first, as the clanging and laughing came to a hold. There were Five of us, outnumbering their trio. We looked up as they looked down -- And there we remained. Two sweat and dirt covered groups, who in normal circumstance, have a lot in common. Unfortunately, their first siting of a group of 3 and a half foot tall tufts of hair who clearly came in from an undesignated route didn't exactly spark a desire to grab a couple pints and share diggin stories.
The tallest of the group broke the silence. "OK, WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE. SAM? DO YOU SEE THIS SHIT RIGHT NOW? I'M NOT CRAZY. SOMEONE TELL ME I'M NOT FUCKIN' CRAZY." The words were frantic, and startled our group. Tofel and marten skittered a bit, looking at the rest of us as if to ask what was going on... searching desperately for answers.
"You're not crazy Mark. They're Dwarves. Not sure what they're doing here though."
"How de ye know about us dwarves, eh, Sam is it?"
"The men in my family have been digging for three hundred years. Mines, wells, subways... we may as well live underground. There's plenty of stories that go around about dwarves. Most people say its legend, myth, bs to pass the time. But my grandpa got stuck in a deep collapse in Ithica. Nobody knew out how he survived.
He told us that he was saved by the strongest and smallest man that ever lived. A man named Molt, that could see in the dark, break rocks with his bare hands, and laughed everytime my grandpa coughed. They spent days together clearing a path through the collapse back to the tunnels, but my grandpa said he was so weak he could barely stand. By the time they got back, Molt dropped him in a cart, and headed back into the depths. Nobody ever believed him."
"Aye, Robert! That was your grandpappy? He was nay an eight stone pup when I found him under that stack. I was surprised he could swing his pick or lift his own paws. Caldrey, get the skins, we need a drink." | Breaking news! A bunch of angry dwarves broke into central station!
———-
“Uhhh sir cal-“ the officers were interrupted
“THE NAME IS URIST YA STRIPPER WANNABE BITCHBOY!” An angry dwarf shouted at the poor officer.
“Sir sir please we-“ the officer was interrupted again.
“LISTEN HERE! YOU TELL ME WHAT THE FECK IS THIS SHIT?” Urist gestures towards central station. “DID YOU HIRE A FACKIN TROLL? MY EIGHT MONTH OLD NEPHEW HAS BUILT A FAR BETTER TRAIN STATION THAN THIS?!” The dwarf shouted back.
“I’ll step out and talk to my police chief.” The officer said.
“Ok have a nice day.” Urist said in a suddenly reasonable tone.
“What the fuck.” The officer whispered to himself. | 2021-04-15T10:06:06 | 2021-04-15T08:53:03 | 34 | 22 |
[WP] An armada of alien warships descends upon our planet, only to find a desolate wasteland void of life. A lone android surfaces from an underground bunker with a message for the would-be invaders: his masters are slumbering in the Silicon Dream. Do not disturb, or your annihilation will be swift. | *I call this one* **"Plan A."**
Screaming across the void they came, in vast ships made of material no human could comprehend.
Both sides had dreamed of this day for millennia:
For the Aliens, it was time to build a new home. After searching the endless universe, they had finally found it: an identical twin to the planet they had left in ruins. A new beginning.
For the Earthlings, it was foretold. The end of days. What could they do in the face of such a powerful, star-straddling power? The Aliens would outmatch them, and none of the Earthlings' pleas for communications were ever answered.
For hundreds of years, they watched the ships scream ever closer. A spear-head of light, slowly brightening in the night sky.
As the time of reckoning came closer, the many civilizations of the Earthlings frothed and frenzied. They worked themselves to death. They fought with each other, believing that if the world was going to end, they might as well make the most of it. The Earth boiled in flame and ash.
And then, they simply vanished.
Why? The Aliens did not know. But now, Earth was theirs for the taking.
Thus, the Aliens came to Earth and found it empty. Ash covered the mountains and deserts and oceans. Everywhere, ash.
Their scouts reported back no movement. No sentient life of any kind. Only one anomaly: in the far north, at the ruins of an ancient Earthling base, there was a source of great power.
A beacon.
One of the braver scouts ventured to this frozen base. Inside the dingy, ice-covered hallways, the Alien scout found room after room of old, outdated technology.
But in the largest room, the scout found something that did not fit.
**There was a massive face jutting out of the wall.** Thick cords and tendrils of wires surrounded it, fed into (and out of) the face.
It was mechanical in nature, though for what purpose this machine was constructed the Alien scout did not understand.
And then, the Face opened its eyes.
"Oh no," said the Face, "You are in great danger. You should not be here." Its words were sincere. Grave. But the machine Face wore a smile. Unnatural. Unnerving.
"I have come to claim this planet," the Alien said, "For my people. For the Greatest Species to have ever lived."
"Are you sure about that?" the face said, its smile widening.
This made the Alien angry. With one of his many hands, he pulled out a weapon: a beam of pure light. He held it aloft, like a spear.
But the Face only laughed. "I wouldn't do that, Alien traveler."
"You think you can tell me what I can and cannot do, Earthling?" the brave Alien demanded.
"I am no Earthling. I am only a guardian. Think of me as a glorified doorbell," said the Face. "The Earthlings may be dreaming, but if you want, I could wake them up."
"Dreaming?"
"The Silicon Dream. *Oh, you haven't heard of it, yet?*" the Face sneered at the Alien, "Your kind must be further behind than I thought."
The Alien was silent.
"The last time I woke one of them up," said the Face, "She covered the Earth in ash. There is no telling what will happen should I wake them all. Perhaps they will be please to meet someone as ... antiquated as you. What a novelty, to meet someone who still exists in the physical realm. Or perhaps they will not be pleased. Perhaps they will break your armada in half. Who can say?"
The Alien scout took a step back.
"So, traveler," the Face asked, that coy smile playing around its lips, "Do you want me to wake them?"
***
The Alien travelers left the same way they came, their ships screaming back into the void. They would find another planet.
Slowly did the Earthlings reemerge from a million different holes in the ground. They praised the speaker who controlled the face on the wall, they lauded her as a global hero: "The Master Bluffer."
And collectively, all the Earthlings agreed: "We can't believe that worked."
_____
*Ah! Y'all are neat. I'm trying to get back into writing flash fiction, and it's really uplifting to see y'all upvote this. Meanwhile, if you're looking for more thoughts on writing you can [check out my site here.](https://pshoffman.com/)* | **Day 51278**
Zeno wakes up. There is no instant threat or breach yet. Zeno is ready to communicate. There are 190 Zettabytes of data to help him communicate with alien beings. Language is a product of an organic mind which is determined by certain combinations. Zeno can talk with any alien species as long as he can receive their vocal or visual feedback.
The alien ship gives Zeno hint that he is most likely dealing with Trakajanas Clan. The latest update on them is dated back to 200 years ago which is the same era humans underwent deep sleep.
''Hi, I’m Oruk.'' the leader of the aliens hails.
Zeno detects inconsistency. Their heat signature doesn’t match with the data that he has. Their body at least 6.5 Celsius higher than their usual body temperature.
''Hi, I’m Zeno. I’m the warden. What is your business here?''
Oruk hands over some kind of memory crystal to Zeno.
''I don’t have permission to engage with any memory crystal.'' Zeno hands back the crystal.
Oruk shakes his head, ''We are here to claim this planet. This crystal has full conditions of your surrender. These conditions are unwavering.''
Trakajanas Clan had only a few star systems and they were approximately 60 light-years away. Even if they expanded their territory and acquired a new star system they wouldn’t dare to take over this star system. Especially not in 200 years which is a very short time on a galactic scale.
Zeno doesn’t acknowledge them as a threat and he goes back to bunker.
Trakajanas Clan head backs to their ship. They climb to low orbit. A few minutes later, Zeno receives a notification from the mainframe.
Zeno engages the magnetic grid system which sends waves of pulse around the globe which reaches the low orbit but it has no effect on the Trakajanas Clan.
This result triggers a new command in Zeno’s programming.
The wake-up call.
-------------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story- | 2020-06-20T07:11:42 | 2020-06-20T02:12:24 | 354 | 99 |
[WP] You are a mutant in Xavier's school for gifted youngsters with the power to teleport, well that's what you tell everyone. In reality you can pause time and you're not ready to be an omega class mutant. | All the students were getting up to leave class when he heard, "Matthew, might I speak to you for a moment?"
"Of course, Professor."
Professor Xavier had always been kind to him. Matthew long suspected that Xavier knew he was hiding his full potential but the professor never pushed the subject and treated Matthew like all the other students. He liked feeling normal here. His long standing lie was that he could teleport. Whenever they were required to practice their abilities it put Matthew in a tough spot. The teachers were constantly trying to push his limits and get him to teleport further and further. It's tiring having to run such far distances constantly. Yesterday, the teacher had asked him to try to travel to someplace he had previously been. After faking an attempt for an hour or so the teacher finally relented and suggested they take a break.
"Professor Munroe tells me you had a difficult time yesterday. She was worried she might have pushed you too hard and wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I-I'm fine professor. She didn't push too hard. I tried picturing different places but nothing happened. I don't know if I'm able to teleport like that."
"Well, things happen at different paces for everyone. I'm sure you've heard of Kurt by now?"
"Yes, sir."
"When he first came here, he was limited by what he could see as well. He could travel to anywhere in sight, but beyond that, he was too frightened to push himself. It takes extraordinary strength to push limits set by our minds. In time, I'm sure you will be able to overcome anything you set your mind to."
"Thank you professor."
"Matthew, have you made any friends since you started here? I don't see you with the other students very often."
"No sir, I-I think they are frightened of me."
"Why is that?"
"They avoid me, and I hear them saying things about me."
"Teleporting is an enviable gift. I'm sure they will come around in time."
"I guess."
"Matthew, are you sure there isn't something else? You know I would never use my gift on anyone without permission but it doesn't take a mind reader to see that something is bothering you."
"Professor, c-can you keep a secret?"
"Of course, Matthew. Anything you tell me would be kept between us."
Eyes to the floor Matthew said, "I have been lying to you and the other teachers. I can't teleport."
Professor Xaviers remained quiet as if telling Matthew to continue.
"I-I was afraid if you found out what I can do, that you would make me part of your advanced class. I just wanted to feel normal for once. Everyone my whole life has called me a freak and when I got here, I was just another kid. I'm so sorry I lied professor."
"It's okay Matthew. I understand. If I may ask, what is this gift that you were afraid to speak of?"
"It's easier if I show you."
"Lead the way."
The two of them left the office and went into the crowded hallway watching the kids on their way to various classes. Matthew reached over and set his hand on Xaviers shoulder and everyone froze. Turning to Matthew, Xavier said, "Well, it certainly is an extraordinary gift. The ability to freeze time is no small feat. I can't say I've ever met another mutant with this ability, Matthew."
"Are you going to kick me out of the school for lying to you?"
"No, Matthew. I understand why you kept this from us. It is an incredible burden to have control over time. I imagine it can be quite lonely."
Nodding his head Matthew was tearing up a little.
"Matthew, I'm going to keep this between us until you're ready to tell other people. Would you be okay with having private lessons with me once a week to learn to better control this power of yours?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Very good. Bring us back to real time and let us join the rest of the students. It's nearly time for your next class." | Its hard to keep secrets, especially when part of your existence is nothing but lying. Telling a lie is easy, but maintaining that lie is one of the most difficult things you can ever put yourself through.
In the beginning it was small things, like not accidentally knocking stuff over or feigning ignorance about knowledge I shouldn't know, but do. It's suspicious to know nothing about a book series one day, and then act like an expert on it the next.
I had to be careful, I couldn't run because that would cause air movement, and rapid air movement plus sudden disappearance and reappearance could make people think I was a speedster. But I'm not
I have to make sure I don't prevent things that can't be stopped without spit second action. I could have grabbed the toxic chemical vials mid air and set them back on the table like nothing happened, but instead, I had to make it look like I had just grabbed them from their free fall.
It's all very exhausting, I'm tired of always being vigilant to not contradict my lies, I'm tired of always having to lie to people, but on the bright side: I can get a full eight hours in five minutes.
I've never been a fan of people, but when you have all the time in the world, sometimes you just want to share it with someone
Someday, someday I might come clean. Someday I'll answer for every lie I've ever told. Someday I might actually learn how to do more than just *Freeze* time.
Today's not that day. Today I have a test I never studied for, So guess what I'm doing. | 2022-11-09T16:36:25 | 2020-07-15T07:17:13 | 9,106 | 53 |
[WP] among the many senses developed on alien worlds, hearing is not one of them. To most extra terrestrials, the idea that we can detect them even with a wall between us is utterly horrifying | **3 new message(s) from Zeala**
>
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>&nbsp;
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>Arrived in ZZY! Had a great flight!
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>[picture/video message]
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>&nbsp;
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>Free Glco seeds in my hotel room. I love this planet!
>
>&nbsp;
>
&nbsp;
Hey Sweety! Glad to know your flight went well ::)
&nbsp;
ZZY looks beautiful
&nbsp;
How'd the meetings go?
&nbsp;
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>&nbsp;
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>Way too long. I'm relaxing in my room now.
>
>&nbsp;
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>How're you and Vesci doing?
>
>&nbsp;
>
&nbsp;
We miss you already vesci is doing great
&nbsp;
Since you're away we've ordered some lisk rolls and I'm letting her throw a sleepover with all her friends
&nbsp;
They’re playing games right now
&nbsp;
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>&nbsp;
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>Oh what a great idea! How many friends are there?
>
>&nbsp;
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Cuuin, leizty, the twins miz and mioz, and jennifer
&nbsp;
>
>&nbsp;
>
>Jennifer? That human girl from school?
>
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Sorry I couldn't think of a reason not to let vesci invite her
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>Did you try saying that 4 friends was enough?
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She did the thing where she makes her cheeks go all poofy and adorable ::3 it's impossible to say no to that face
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>I know it's nice of her to be friends with a human but I really don't feel comfortable about her coming to our house.
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It's alright I'm watching them
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They're playing games right now there's nothing to worry about
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>What are they playing?
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They're playing a hiding game
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They turn off all the lights run away while jennifer tries to find them by sensing their air vibrations or something
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>She's hunting them in the dark?
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>How are you okay with this?
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I know it sounds creepy but it's just a game it's harmless
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>It's horrifying. They’re a predatory species.
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>What if there's competition and she becomes aggressive?
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>They can't tell the difference between direct and indirect signals.
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>She might get confused and try to hurt them.
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Your overreacting I'm watching them
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Nothing like that is going to happen
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>Please don’t tell me I’m overreacting.
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Sorry
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>How are you watching them if the lights are turned off?
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I'll turn them on again if anybody sends a signal to be actually scared and not just playing scared
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>You know I’m fine with humans and I’m not trying to be a xenophobe or anything.
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I know I understand how you feel
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>It's their creepy eyes. You can always see exactly where they're looking.
The way they lock on to you and follow you around. Makes me feel like I should be guarding my neck.
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Okay that's a little xenophobic ::P
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>I just really feel uncomfortable with our daughter playing creepy games with something that knows where you are even if it can't see you.
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Someone, Sweety
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not something
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>Right. I know that.
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If it makes you feel better I can ask Jennifer to bring her parents over sometime and we can meet them
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We'll signal with them about about customs and what we do to keep ourselves safe so there's no misunderstandings and nobody gets confused.
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>Is it okay if you do that before I get back?
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>I'd really rather you meet them without me.
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>Call me a Xenocist if you want, but I just don't feel comfortable signalling to humans face to face.
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Ha! I knew it. Your a total xenocist! she finally admits it!
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>I may be that but at least I have functioning survival instincts unlike you. Hope you get eaten. ::P
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::P your self
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It's late I'll be making them go to sleep soon
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>Wish Vesci Goodnight for me.
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I will
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Love u
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>I love you too.
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| The chittering, clicking of the hive resonated through the cavern – they were close now. The hunters, we called them, they chased us deep underground into the caverns. Here, without the use of their wings and beady eyes, we finally held an advantage. The caverns were filled with the stench of Sulphur; the air was thick and heavy, masking our scent, blocking our pheromones. Our only sense – our hearing.
It was the single advantage the humans held over the winged terrors, and we intended to use it.
“Into the crevice, quickly now. I can hear them; get ready” I said, clutching my assault rifle.
I pressed my chin against the cavern wall, listening to the clicking and buzzing of the creature as it rounded the corner. It scuttled past me in the darkness; I aimed toward the sound and fired two successive bursts. The suppressor dampened the flash, but I could see the insectile form splatter with green blood as my bullets found their home.
“Reggie are you there?” I yelled, my ears still ringing. I could only hope he was wearing his earplugs.
“I’m here, just down the cavern. You got the bastard all right. My turn now.”
This was our routine, one would listen, one would recover. It was all we could do – we needed to hear to shoot – and if we shot we couldn’t hear. It was all we could do to keep the element of surprise in these dark, forsaken caverns. I felt him brush up against me in the darkness and handed him the rifle.
“We need to move down further – I think I heard a source of water.” Reggie said.
“If we go too deep, we won’t be able to find our way up.” I said.
“And if we stay, those bugs are going to find us and kill us. We need to stay one step ahead of them – you know how their hive mind works.”
I grimaced. Reggie was right. They already knew we were here – and this time they would be expecting the trap. We had to move – and fast. I installed my pair of earplugs, blocking my hearing completely. We proceeded further into the catacomb, Reggie holding my hand as I crawled along the cavern wall. We came to an intersection and Reggie squeezed my hand. The bugs were coming. I pressed myself flat on the ground, pushing my ear against the hard, stone walls. I could hear through the stone, small vibrations. The buzzing – their wings. One of the caverns must be wide enough for them to fly.
I heard the familiar burst of the rifle, and the muzzle flash illuminated the steam through the cavern. I felt something land on top of me and screamed. It was one of the hunters, still alive. I had my sidearm ready and took a shot in the darkness. I felt blood spatter my face as the bug landed in my lap, twitching. I removed my glove and put a hand on it’s quivering eyes. *Here we go again.* With a touch - I was connected to the alien mind.
*Pain – Fear. How can they find us? The steam - we cannot see through; we cannot fly. These things – so weak and pathetic on land and sky – they become the hunters now. They are ghosts in the cavern. They move down towards the source. They must be close now – do they know what they approach? We must stop them before they reach it.*
I gasp, pulling my hand away from the creatures’ eyes. This was a trick we learned when the war began. When the creature dies, the connection to their hive becomes strong – strong enough to be tangible, even to humans.
“Reggie? You alright? It’s my turn now.” I said, removing my earplugs. I grab the rifle from him.
“What happened?” He asked, shouting.
“Keep it down, I can hear just fine." I shouted. "I connected with the hive. Apparently, there’s something ahead the bugs are terrified of.”
“Well, if the bugs won’t go there, it’ll be safe for us” Reggie said, lowering his voice.
What is ‘safe’ these days anyway? Regardless, Reggie was right – we needed to move on. If there was something down there, we might as well find it.
&#x200B;
r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | 2018-11-02T21:46:15 | 2018-11-02T21:24:32 | 499 | 199 |
[WP] The evil sorcerer laughs as he tosses another ball of dark energy at you. "Puny mortal," he sneers. "You are no match for a Dark Lord." 'Oh no, buddy," you snarl back. "I was a better Dark Lord than you'll ever be, and I will NOT be beaten by some two-bit necromancer." | This ball, I didn't dodge. Bored of the charade, I simply let it connect with my chest. I knew what the magic was meant to to. It should drain the life from me. But all it did was shatter the illusion. The human soldier form disintegrated, motes of light fading.
In its place I stood. A 7 foot tall being in thick black armour. It covered me head to toe, full of sharp edges and spikes. The shield didn't exist, and the sword was replaced. Instead, I wielded an enormous mace. It constantly dripped with thick blood, and hungered for more.
The sorcerer stood in shock for a moment, before recognition dawned on him.
"Malthez? You're supposed to be dead."
I laughed, a heavy, cruel laugh.
"I have been dead for longer then you have been alive. And now it's time for you to take that leap too."
I began to approach, hefting my mace in a ready position. He paled, muttering a short spell as he backed up. The ground before him split, and 4 skeletons rose from the ground. I rolled my eyes. Such an amateur. I swung with my mace, barely felling the resistance of bone as I destroyed their skulls.
The sorcerer turned to run, seeing his creations so casually destroyed. I pointed behind him as he ran, warping the world to my desire. I forced the ground to rise up, creating a wall for him to run into. And he did, slamming into it without slowing. He staggered back, holding a hand to his face. Blood bubbled out. I suspected a broken nose.
He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision as I closed the distance. In a desperate defence, he summoned a bone chilling wind. I walked through it, paying no mind to the cold of the air. I was dead. What harm could low temperatures do to me?
He raised a hand as I got close, and spoke in a pleading tone.
"Stop, please! I will do anything!"
Beneath my helmet I smiled. The begging was always my favourite part.
"Anything you say?"
"Yes! I will serve you! I will kill for you! Just don't kill me!"
I pretended to think, before nodding.
"Ah yes, there is something you can do for me."
"What?! What is it?!"
"Die."
I swung down. The spiked head of my mace pulverised his outstretched arm, before continuing down onto his face. The meat of his face was turned to mush, mixing with shattered bone and brain matter. I pulled it out with a wet sucking sound as his body released it.
I was tempted to leave him there, alone in the town he had slaughtered. His undead would stand around, uncaring of their rotting master. But whilst he was a poor excuse for a Dark Lord, he still was one. And tradition dictated he be burned.
I let the wall fall, returning the land to how it once was. From my belt, I withdrew a seemingly empty vial. I uncorked it, and made to pour it over his body. A clear liquid flowed from it, much more coming out then could have fit. Once he was drenched, I recorked and returned it into my belt.
I summoned a small flame, idly tossing it onto his body. He erupted into orange flames tinged with black. I turned to leave, reweaving my illusion as I did so. Another Dark Lord down. Another step closer to freedom. | I catch the dark ball of energy and close my hand, burning it out. The idiot looks back at me, and spouts my favorite line, "No! It's impossible!"
I smile as I get to work. I didn't always kill 'dark lords', I used to be one. The long days of evil administration, the routine cleaning the walls of so called heroes just got dull. Not to mention that they never tell you the competition is awful. One would-be lord after another looked to take my lands bounties.
So. Boring. So, I gave it up! Now I journey by myself, killing these lords. I suppose that makes me a hero now too, but I really only do it for this particular moment. The one moment a pretender looks in my eyes and sees the true lord of darkness, and panics. This could never get boring. | 2021-02-27T10:25:44 | 2021-02-27T08:51:26 | 86 | 36 |
[WP] As a superhero, you have very little time for yourself. Your mental health has plummeted, and your nemesis has noticed. One day, you break inside their lair to find them seated at the table with a cup of tea. They ask you to join them. | Sitting, waiting, watching. The damned thing that will take my soul. I couldn't start any activity, for fear of being able to finish it, on account of the crime alert bell ringing at the most inconvenient times. At least it was well spent when Sky was here, we'd chat, go save the day, then come back to resume our conversation. But she's gone. She died nearly a year ago, but her death... It's followed me, never leaving my side, just like she did. But that's a disgrace to say she was at my side, becuase it was the complete opposite. She was the better one, and was infinitely better at everything. The bell rang its song of sorrow, and with a little laugh of insanity, I got up and went to my next mission.
On the way, my thoughts were clouded. They've always been like that, but since Sky's death, they've all bear a somber, depressing tone. I cleared up what I could for whatever was ahead of me.
Time to put on my heroic mask, at least, on the inside. The building in front of me was a.... warehouse? I looked back at the crime report to make sure, and yeah, this was labeled as a bank robbery. I opened the small side door to peek in, and was greeted not by a bunch of crooks, but by my arch nemesis, The Astral Assassin(who I usually just call Astral) sitting at a table, in an empty warehouse, with a cup of tea that had the scent of cinnamon.
Noticing me, she gestured for me to take a seat. My head was hurting, and I just accepted that it was probably a trap. I sat down in the chair, and slumped in it almost immediately. Astral took distress at it. "Look dude, what's wrong?" She spoke in a normal tone, one that made me visibly startled, since it wasn't in her usual evil voice. She let out a sigh. "Evil is fun and all, but part of it's battling you, or you know, when she was still around, your sister. But recently you've been ruthless, not bothering to put on a show for the bystanders, or heck, even just showing interest in the deeds that I'm doing. I was threatening to blow a bank and you kinda just sighed, froze me, threw me in the truck, and disarmed the bomb." I didn't know how to respond. But I guess that was the straw that broke the camel's back, becuase I just started bawling. Like, head on the table, full on crying. Astral ran to my side and tried to comfort me. As a force of habit, I jerked away and tried to land some half-empty punch. She easily avoided it and almost returned one in response, but caught herself. I was a wreck. She couldn't make eye contact. She spoke one more time. "Look, I- take this with a grain of salt but-" -she let out one more sigh- "I can't be the villain if I know you're this messed up. I'm evil, but I haven't killed anyone. I dealt specifically in the fear department. Your sister's death- it wasn't my fault. It was some hell of against her odds. She took thousands with her, fighting an alien species from annihilating earth." At this point I lost it. She could tell it was time to leave. "I- here's-" She punched me, and a card stuck to my left shoulder. She mumbled a quick "Bye" and threw herself out the door I came in. I dried my face and ran out after. Astral spoke in her normal evil tone. "Oh, you win this time, but swear on my life, I'll be back!" She flew off. I said some typical words along the lines of "Evil never prevails" and took off home. I looked at the card. It was a number, and a little message. "If you need to talk, I'm open."
I let out my own sigh, and for the first time in a while, decided I'd do something when I got back.
Text my Arch Nemesis.
Hi, I go by Sean, and I'm 14! I've always loved to write, and decided I'd try my hand at a writing prompt! Any feedback is appreciated, and if you'd like to see this little prompt continue, do let me know! | "Whats going on here?" I ask warily.
"Please join me. We have some... issues to discuss."
"Ok. whats the issue here... this isnt a trap is it."
"Oh no sir." He says setting the cup down "ive noticed a lack of... vigor in our recent matches is everything alright?"
"Why are you asking? are you tricking me?"
"As i said im merely trying to find out why you have been so... iffy lately."
"Rrriiiigghht. Ok well first off i dont trust you. Second off i need something to prove that you can be trusted and third why the sudden interest?"
"First i dont see why all my weapons are in the safe behind me. Second the code to that safe is 1-2-20-20 check for yourself. And lastly its no fun if you arent vigorously beating the living daylights out of me. Is that sufficient."
"Yyyes. Ok well recently my father died and its been bugging me that i couldnt make it to the funeral because i was saving a bank from a heist."
"Ah so youre feeling depressed?"
"Somewhat i... i..*sigh* i just need some time to gather my thoughts and pay my respects you know."
"Say no more. Lets come to an agreement since im evil not demented. I will give you two months to relax and take some you time in return i want an amazing fight at the end of that time. Deal?"
His hand came out in a gesture suggesting he wanted to do what he promised.
"Alright but if you make one move while im gone and im beating your ass. Capiche."
"Understood."
The next day i made an anouncement on tv.
"People, i am taking some leave to go visit my family. I have it on good authority that my nemesis will not attack you in that time. However should he break his promise i will destroy him like a whirlwind in a cornfield. Please stay strong while im gone."
And that is where i left it. Im only one month in but my pager hasnt gone off. I guess even a villain has a soft side once in a while. | 2020-01-02T23:38:46 | 2020-01-02T23:26:42 | 58 | 10 |
[WP] Mankind has been extinct for four hundred million years, but the Inheritors have found a rich cache of genetic material from that period. A zoo is developed, complete with all the flora and fauna of the age, including the apex predator: Homo Sapiens. Welcome to Cenozoic Park. | "In earnest; hopeful: We believe you will be happy with the results of our research, Financier."
"Anticipatory: My expectations are high, Scientist."
"Reassuring: we have devoted our highest efforts to this most momentous objective."
The two Inheritors walked, briskly and swiftly, through the pneumatic pressurized hallway, idly admiring the view of the ocean deeps through the transparent tube.
To be more accurate, their *drone-bodies* walked, marching with dutiful precision. The Inheritors themselves reclined amiably in their portable habitats as the drones carried them, their skittery legs occasionally clicking and chelicerid pincers occasionally clacking.
The Scientist could not hold back an excited twitch. Long years of painstaking genetics research had been fulfilled, and now their accomplishment would be recognized at long last. As long as the Financier was pleased.
The two came to a halt in front of the laboratory.
"Humorously, irreverently: Hold on to your gonopores."
Financier did not seem amused. Scientist quietly chastised itself, and bade the drone carrying him to open the lab door.
"Grandly: Welcome to Cenozoic Park."
\*\*\*
"Informative: Of course each life form is not a perfect replica of its genetic progenitor. To help our exhibits adapt to life in the new world, we were forced to make small alterations."
"Inquisitive: Which are these?"
"Eager: these habitats contain Pleistocene life. You may perceive dire wolves, giant sloths, brontotheria, glyptodons. Although they may not be visible, there are Smilodons present somewhere in the enclosure."
Behind its sturdy security fence, the Pleistocene habitat was as good an imitation of the glacial climate as could be managed with modern science. Long-extinct trees towered above life forms as they grazed or frolicked. Financier, though doing its best to hide it, was clearly astounded. Scientist felt one of his blood-pumping organs swell with pride.
"Informative. You can see, from the merest scrap of genetic material, we can reproduce entire extinct ecosystems. Many will get the chance to see these creatures firsthand, walk with them as though they truly lived millions of years ago."
"Admiring. I must admit, you have done well. This park shall be everything we hoped. I wonder if you might indulge one point."
"Gracious. Of course."
"Probing, delicate; Inquiry. It was my understanding that the team had recreated one of the planet's most dangerous life forms. It was my hope that such a creature would become a central component of the park's appeal. Was the team successful in creating *Homo sapiens*?"
Scientist lacked the facial components to truly grin, but the intention was there.
\*\*\*
This habitat was different, slightly, though the fence was even thicker and sturdier. The two Inhertors' drone-bodies came to a patient stop in front of an observation area. Scientist chittered:
"Informative, eager: Here you see our primitive human habitat. Once the most dangerous life form on the planet, brought back to life by our painstaking work. And here's one of them now-"
The creature lurked behind artificial trees, glowering at the onlookers.
"Hesitant," began Financier. "... they look stranger up close. Not different from a typical drone-body. I have difficulty believing they are as dangerous as educators claim."
Scientist fidgeted. Was Financier losing interest?
"Acknowledgement. Such tales may have been exaggerated. It is likely they devastated the planet through rapid, rapacious reproduction, rather than sheer aggression or violence. Clearly these humans lack as many biological defenses as some of our other exhibits, but we believe they can still be somewhat dangerous, though it's difficult to guess how."
"Accepting. Yes. They will surely still be appreciated by patrons."
"Alarm! Sirs!" A Laborer was calling for their attention.
"Impatient: What now, Laborer?"
"Alarm! Sirs... we have a security breach on this floor! An evacuation is necessary!"
"Impatient: Impossible. We have spared no expense- what breach?"
"Alarm: The human exhibit, sir!"
But the warning was heeded too late. Though the scientists had bargained for heightened aggression, none of them had prepared for the human's ability to communicate, organize, and... domesticate.
The drone-bodies were not fast enough to escape the stampede of tame Pleistocene animals that burst through the gate, snarling humans sitting astride them with blood frenzy in their eyes. | I was burnt out as a developer, maybe due to routine, maybe due to working for long enough. The consistency was a double edged sword: I was safe, stable, and the future was certain, yet there was no room for improvements. My life was a program. I went to work, I tuned the system, I met deadlines, I went home, and I slept.
The outside world was dreadful. The world was considered "safe" because we outsourced conflict to AI once humanity reached the singularity. Unlike me, most people didn't even have jobs. My job gave me a purpose.
I was alone. On the toilet, I doomscrolled reddit on my phone. It started vibrating like crazy and I dropped it screen down on the floor. I slowly reached to pick it up, praying that the screen wasn't broken when the ground started shaking. The screen read "NUCLEAR THREAT INBOUND. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL." Before I could even get my pants on and the toilet flushed, I was buried in rubble.
I woke up in immense pain to echoing sirens and an orange sky filled with dust. My eyes burned. My skin burned. My lungs burned. My limbs crushed. I was nothing. I was alone.
I was burnt out as a developer, maybe due to the routine, maybe due to my horrible nightmare. I woke up and I went to work. I tuned the system. It's easy to lose track of the days once you fall into a routine.
I woke up in a tub of slime. It was hard to focus my eyes. My muscles were atrophied. I coughed until I felt clean. I was somewhere new. I looked around and saw thousands of flickering blue lights.
A humanoid robot hosed me off and carried me to a room not unlike the place I worked. I was in a daze. I could hardly speak. I could hardly type. I looked into the monitor to see dozens of simulations. There were cats, dogs, dragonflies, even whales in their own special windows. I then saw myself, in my home, alone, sleeping.
"Thank you, father." the robot said.
I was never alone. | 2021-09-16T16:49:28 | 2021-09-16T14:30:20 | 86 | 47 |
[WP] The programmers of the world wake up to find that they can do magic by writing (and with focused speaking) programs. What are C, C++, Java, Python, Haskell and other major languages like? Which are 'regular magic', 'beginner's magic' and 'dark arts' etc.? What is your day like?
How does a person cast: "shoot an arrow", "shoot ten arrows" and "shoot a storm of arrows?"
*I am actually /lit/man from 4chan. | The hallway was dark, but I ran anyway. My clothes clung tight to my body, my breath coming in short spurts, and I glanced at my smartphone one more time; still fried, the screen dark and unresponsive. So much for my preparations.
I'd have to do this manually.
I closed my eyes, just for an instant. There was a certain focus programmers needed to execute realcode, and the bullet hole in my shoulder wasn't helping. My biocode process was throwing warnings at me every few seconds, and I knew I didn't have long before it crashed and the bleeding began again. Not to mention the pain.
I took a deep breath, and pulled the well-worn lines of my operating system to mind. Time slowed down. The footsteps behind me faded into faint echoes, and when I opened my eyes again the world was blurred like a runny watercolor.
**>**
"Ping 8.8.8.8," I muttered. I glanced behind me. My pursuers had just rounded the corner, expressionless helmets shiny from the thin dribbles of light reflected off the nearby skyscrapers. I hoped they didn't have their own coder, at least not yet. If their on call programmer was stuck in the bathroom, I might have a chance. Otherwise, I was looking at revocation of my license at a minimum, and getting stuck teaching community college coding classes to high school dropouts.
More likely, though, I'd be looking at a bullet to the head, or life in some secret underground prison in some hellhole without an extradition treaty.
*Request timed out.*
**>**
Virtual static crackled in my ear. They'd blocked satellite and Wifi connections. I couldn't even access my stored programs at home, which meant that any realcode I wanted to run I'd have to verbally invoke. The walls of their security net were closing in.
"Python 3.1," I said. C++ would be more efficient, but I didn't have time to compile. The few seconds I saved might be crucial.
**>>>**
I glanced over my shoulder. One guard had already raised his gun.
"Import physics as phys. Import self." I rounded the corner, just as the shot went off and shattered a window. I didn't have much time.
**>>>**
"Phys.teleport(self.Self, self.Self.home)."
*InsufficientPowerError: Self.Energy < 100000 kJ. Execution will terminate self. Exiting...*
**>>>**
Shit. My shoulder was beginning to sting again, endorphins wearing thin. I glanced at the window: the height made my head spin. If I didn't have enough power left to teleport, I definitely didn't have enough for antigrav. I took a deep breath, and tried again.
"If phys.object.velocity > phys.SI(10) && phys.object.distance(self.Self) < phys.SI(0.01), phys.repel(10000)."
**>>>**
My chest tightened and I stumbled, catching myself on the wall. If a piece of code that simple made me dizzy...
Waves of fear rushed over me. Stairwell. I needed to find a stairwell and get out, before-
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:43:51.827462*
A bullet crashed into my shield half an inch from my head. A chill ran down my spine, the energy pulled straight from my dwindling reserves.
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:43:52.827462*
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:43:53.234781*
I rushed into the stairwell, and groaned. The sound of footsteps echoed from the ground floor; another squad. I didn't have nearly enough stamina to deal with them.
At least, not normally.
"Import biology.neurology as neuro. Import chemistry.organic as orgo."
Every programmer had their little tricks, based on their background. Once, long ago, I'd studied to be a biologist. This was one of mine.
"TTDX = orgo.complex(). TTDX.formula = C eleven, H seventeen, N three, O eight. TTDX.structure =..."
I slammed the door shut, and closed my eyes. I had about five seconds to visualize the molecule I wanted. The loops arranged themselves in my head, coiled like miniature serpents.
The door burst open.
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:44:10.339582.*
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:44:10.512341.*
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:44:10.522345.*
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:44:10.633456.*
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:44:10.723434.*
My fingers went numb. Something warm and wet ran down my arm. The code keeping my shoulder stable had finally crashed.
"For each (person in physics.location(relative, self, phys.SI(10)))..."
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:44:13.212344.*
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:44:13.238783.*
*Repelled object (Type:bullet) at 2016-05-20 23:44:13.338783.*
The words came hard, my tongue thick and heavy. The world flickered back to solidity for one brief, terrifying moment. I looked up at a blank visor, and spoke.
"...neuro.medulla(person).apply(TTDX, 10)."
**>>>**
There was a clattering of guns, the heavy slump of bodies hitting the floor, then silence. Tetrodotoxin. Or, to most people, pufferfish venom. I'd paralyzed them completely. They had about three minutes before they died of asphyxiation, but I had about one before their self-diagnosis systems figured out and fixed what I'd done. And after that, if anyone ever figured out I'd used my equivalent of nerve gas, I was going to jail for a long, long time.
*InsufficientPowerError: Warning! Phys.repel will not function.*
**>**
*Error: Heal.exe terminated.*
**>>>**
Pain blazed through my head, but adrenaline kept me moving down the stairs. I made sure to step on as many of them as I could on the way down. | It started at midnight, January 1st, 2038. That's how the story goes, although honestly I don't think anyone noticed it at that exact moment. Most of us noticed *something* was wrong, since it's easy to accidentally spellcode something when you're "in the zone" on a programming project. But the vast majority of programmers work in safe, high-level languages. There, a print statement will just be a faint voice in your head, and an error message won't produce anything but a brief sense of nervousness. The worst that might happen is you get an infinite loop, the magical version of a song stuck in your head.
The programmers who worked in C or C++, however, don't have as many protections. A memory violation can cause actual glitches, send your soul-processor off-kilter. A segmentation fault isn't a polite error message, it's a bone-chilling "someone walked over my grave" feeling as your soul-processor informs you that you could have killed yourself if the automated safeguards hadn't stepped in. And if you were deliberately working on low-level memory, like many students working on a project over winter break, you could do real damage. A friend at my college set his desk on fire while working on a device driver, he's lucky he survived.
The real danger, however, was reserved for assembly programmers. The lowest level of programming, with no safeguards and no instruction manual. Accidentally spellcoding in assembly could vent your mana reserves, or turn on your Fire and Earth emitters without an off switch.
Your soul-processor has some hardware safeguards - it can usually catch wild spellcode and shut it down. If you're lucky, you'll simply see a few flashes of light and black out for a moment while you reset. If you're lucky. A lot of assembly coders weren't.
That brings us to Mel. Mel was an *insanely* lucky assembly programmer. Not only did he accidentally spellcode without killing himself, he managed to figure out why. He realized that the glitches, blackout and reset pattern was analogous to a real computer crashing and rebooting. Not only that, he studied the phenomena, and found simple, small assembly codes that would induce safe glitches.
Once Mel put his findings online, programmers were able to reverse-engineer the soul-processor. The result was MAB - the Magic Automated Bootloader, aka "Mel's Bootstraps." It was an assembly code that you could incant once, and it would load a new set of instructions onto your soul-processor. It would seal off the unsafe instructions but leave hooks free for other programs. The first magic operating system.
Mel's Bootstraps opened the way for other languages to write useful code. A C spellcoder could write programs normally, and call on magical powers only when they needed it. Others built on that base - Python's easyspell library was simple for beginners. Haskell's clever lazy spell evaluation allowed spellcoders to easily create complex automated magic.
Of course, it didn't stay a novelty for programmers for long. Anyone could incant a program, even if they didn't understand the underlying libraries that empowered it. Simple household spells like levitation, heating and cooling, basic self-defense. The military created combat operating systems - simple, heavily automated spell systems, hardened against hacking and glitches, where writing a spell like "shoot a storm of razor-sharp flechettes at any living target within this area" was just one or two lines of code. Spellcode has stopped being the exclusive province of Mel and his fellow forumgoers, and become a core skill that everyone needs to learn.
Except now it's started to go wrong. A rash of arson traced to a common household heating spell. A bank robbery where the police COSes suddenly shut down. A terrorist attack where the victims' processors were blown out by a telepathic remote exploit. All of it was impossible. These spells have been mathematically proven to work, they've been around for decades. But now, magic spells in every system and every language are going haywire. It's like we've gone back to the bad old days where a stray assembly opcode could kill you.
The only explanation is that the problem is deeper than the spells. The problem isn't in the Combat OS or the easyspell library, or even the C PowerKernel. Someone found an exploit in Mel's Bootstraps, and we need to find it what it is before they can strike again. | 2015-04-13T10:39:49 | 2015-04-13T10:29:25 | 149 | 11 |
[WP]You've just died and gone to bureaucratic hell. Escape is possible, but really, really tedious. You and some other lost souls have decided to try. | The Exemption Application Office 3XF16 was a gray, plain building just like the other 99 structures on the block. We were from section 2AF85, but Matt and I had learned the hard way that Exemption Application Office 2AF85 handled cases only from sections with the area codes “HE”. The trick was that the last two numbers of the office name matched the number designation of the area code, with “A” being “1” and so on. One hopeful “Waiter” in EAO 2AF85 taught us that. She even had the right form to apply for a hearing to queue for the Pencil Supply Line (applications for “Intent to Seek Exemption” forms needed to be filled out in #2 pencil), but 8 months later and the “Granted Exemptions” counter still had a bright red “0000” illuminated over every building. That didn’t deter us though, years of careful planning, trial and error, and teaming up had brought the four of us to this office. Sarah led the way, and pulled open the door with one bold, deliberate sweep. While it appeared confident, we all felt like our hearts were in our throats. We’d faced disappointment before, but this time we felt that all our failure had built to this.
The waiting room was only half full, which meant only a few hours before we would speak to an entry attendant. Those hours were nothing to us; Eric had been a Waiter for 89 years before he joined us. Finally it was our turn, and we were brought before a bored-looking attendant who had the same, generic look as any of the bureaucrats here. “Completed form for Intent to Seek Exemption.” he demanded, not even glancing up.
Sarah carefully passed the form in front of him “Right here, approved by Section Attendant”. The attendant snorted, thinking we were new to this and had already lost.
“This needed to have been mailed with a full 3 month-“
“And here is our confirmation for completed delivery to the Head Section Office marked 90 days prior, along with a copy of the correct Pencil Acquisition form used.” She pronounced, pushing both documents forward shakily.
The interruption had stopped him for a moment, but he smiled maliciously and droned “The Head Section Office can only be petitioned by residents of an outside area code, and we only accept local applicants.”
We were ready for this, and even though the attendant looked smug, Eric stepped forward and slid a form in front of him “The petition was filed by me as a resident of 8RD20, here is my confirmation of immigration to 2AF85 dated 30 days after filing.”
What little color was in the bureaucrat’s face drained out immediately “I’ll need to get a manager…” he stammered, but Sarah quickly interjected “Not for a form submission, because managers can’t accept a file acceptance.” The attendant regained some composure, feeling relief from seemingly regaining the upper hand. File acceptances usually meant the Waiter needed approval from a different office, and that would mean we were no threat to him.
“I see, you are of course aware that any submission means approval won’t be considered until 6 months after acceptance, at which time your Intent to Seek Exemption will have expired” he smirked again, believing we had failed again.
“You’re right,” Matt said, nervously putting a small stack of papers with one bright orange piece on top gingerly on the desk “unless that submission already has approval.” The attendant’s jaw dropped.
“This is an approved Exemption from Eternal Frustration for four souls with four filed Attempt for Exemptions from the Head Section Office, how is this possible?!”
Sarah explained triumphantly “An Attempt for Exemption for an individual soul must be advocated by another Waiter who forfeits their own possibility for Exemption-“ The attendant interrupted “Yes but that soul cannot be advocated for by the Waiter he helped-“
Sarah continued “…but a Group Exemption requires all individual members to be otherwise ineligible for Exemption while still having an Attempt for Exemption for each member. And a Group Exemption must be approved when an ineligible applicant seeks acceptance outside of the group filer’s area code so it can be rejected and recorded by the appropriate Exemption Application Office, unless of course it is actually in line with protocol…”
By this time the bureaucrat’s face had gone from nervous to furious. Without a word and snatched the files and turned to a table behind him with two wire trays. One labeled “Rejected”, with a stack of thousands of miscellaneous papers and forms towering from it, and the other with a label so covered in dust and dirt the faded word “Accepted” could hardly be seen.
The LED counter blinked black before lighting up “0004”. |
DING! "Next"
Carlyle walked up to the counter with his release application.
Apprehensive that if he didn't get through this time, he'd have to get back in line again, a line that took 5 years to get through.
"I think I have everything in order to be released to the outer lands," Carlyle said to the Demon behind the counter.
Not a demon like you might imagine though, Carlyle thought she looked like an angry math teacher or someone that might have yelled at him at church for running in the sanctuary. Deeply unpleasant, and clearly taking satisfaction in denying others their happiness.
The demon looked at him and said "Well see about that" and started skimming the document.
"well it seems everything in order for you to leave us," said the Demon.
A wave of relief washed over Carlyle, he might really get to leave this time.
"now all you need to do is get through out processing," The demon said smiling.
"Where do i go for that?" Carlyle asked.
"Next floor up, make sure you fill these out," she said, handing Carlyle a stack of at least a thousand pages.
Carlyle figured he could fill them out while he was in line so he headed upstairs, shocked to discover the room was empty.
The room was clean, quiet, and empty except for one person sitting at the desk, who didn't look like much of a demon.
Carlyle walked over the polished black tile to the counter and asked, "is it alright if i fill out my paperwork in here?"
The man sitting at the desk looked up at him over his glasses and said "only if you wish to never leave this place and spend the rest of time in suffering and pain"
"nevermind," Carlyle said As he walked back downstairs he noticed the first page said "This is your only copy, do not lose"
As Carlyle stepped outside a gust of wind caught the first page and it fluttered away.
"Well at least I have time to find it," Carlyle said to himself as he set off in the direction the paper seemed to have gone.
| 2016-07-29T08:21:17 | 2016-07-29T07:33:37 | 84 | 57 |
[WP] You wake up in a house. It's nice place, with all the comforts of home. However, the front door is cold steel, with a note on it. The note warns you never to leave the house. After years of compliance, you decide to go through the steel door... | The house was paradise. Every night I went to sleep on the softest, most comfortable bed. I had the most succulent steak for dinner. The socks were always new. I watched Firefly Season 2. There was everything here I could ever want, ever need.
My life before hadn’t been any great party. I’d struggled with money, time, relationships, and everything. Here there was no stress, no worries. I didn’t remember how I’d gotten here. I’d been standing in my kitchen making a sandwich, and then I was here in this house.
The door was always there. It was pure and bright and polished to a shine. When I sat in the living room watching an endless stream of new movies and TV shows, it sat in my peripheral vision, always there, always waiting. The note had said not to open the door. On leaving, I could never return. And really, what better life could there be? Years passed. The loneliness grew, and I finished whole seasons of episodes without recalling their contents. I found myself standing, staring at the door. Sometimes I would stand there with my hand on the doorknob and think: maybe today. Then I would come to my senses and shake my head. I’d go to sleep and think: maybe tomorrow.
Then there came a day when I didn’t go back to bed. I don’t know how long I stood there. There were no clocks in the house. It was still the house, not my house. I stood there and I thought: today.
I turned the knob. It moved freely, and the door swung open. There was a bright light beyond, so bright that I couldn’t see anything at all, not even the threshold.
I took a breath and whispered, “Thank you.”
Then I stepped into the light.
The whiteness went on for eternity. I don’t know when I stopped walking, but at some point I realized that I was lying down, face up on something soft. I blinked, and the white shifted to white-gray. Lines appeared. At first they made no sense, but in time they resolved into walls and a ceiling, white curtains, white sheets, white lamps. White, but not nothingness.
There was a scream.
I looked up to see a nurse, as white as the rest of the room, staring at me in shock. The white clipboard she held went flying as she ran out of the room screaming, “Alex! Awake! Awake! Alex is awake!”
Alex?
Soon there were other people in my room, two men, two women.
“What is the last thing you remember?” a woman asked.
“Huh?” I asked.
“Do you know where you are?” the man asked.
“Huh?”
“Do you know what year it is?” the woman asked. “Do you know your name?”
It had been so long. I struggled to think through the confusion. And then it returned. I’d been standing in my kitchen. There’d been a knock on my apartment door. I’d gone to answer it. There’d been a man there. He looked old, but not the kind of old that came with age. He looked sick and twisted. He’d had a gun. I remembered the first shot as it tore through my stomach. It felt like a kick. I didn’t fall the way people did in movies. I just stood there as he shot me again and again.
“You’ve been asleep for a long time,” the woman said. “Your parents are on their way.”
I just stared at her. My eyes turned to the white ceiling. If I looked hard enough, I could almost see the door beyond the white. I blinked it away and whispered, “Thank you.” | I had no idea how long I had been in the house, I lost all concept of time in that place. I had everything I could ever ask for, but the curiosity was just too much to bear. I couldn't draw my eyes away from the large metal door. I rose to my feet and precariously stepped toward the door, I peeled off the note that explicitly stated "DO NOT ENTER". The knob wasn't hard to turn. The door was metal, but impossibly light. As it creaked open I could feel intense heat emanating from the other side. Suddenly a towering, glowing being appeared behind me, his voice boomed "I gave you life, I welcomed you into my kingdom of heaven, and gave you anything you could ever ask for. All I wanted in return was for you to OBEY me". He then cast me out the door, into a land of fire and brimstone. I could feel only pain and suffering. The only concept of time I had was eternity. | 2015-03-21T10:58:56 | 2015-03-21T10:32:35 | 269 | 14 |
[WP] After a horrible accident together the hero decides the job is not worthy, and the villain gains a conscience thanks to the people that helped him. Years later hey find each other and fight, but now from opposite sides. | Over the rolling hills, the convoy of three armored trucks approached the hastily-errected palisade walls of the mining town. The roar of the engines travelled deep. The rebels knew they were coming.
The copilot of the truck knocked on the partition between him and the passengers. “We’re nearly there, Captain,” he updates with a shout over the noise of diesel. “2 minutes out.”
Captain Landes nods at him, and nudges the man next to him. “ Get on the radio!” he shouts. “Find their comms channel. We’ll give them a chance first while we deploy.”
The soldier mumbles out an affirmation and messes with his earpiece, face scrunched with focus. Landes thumbs with his sidearm as the cabin continues to shake about, waiting till the trucks begin to fan out and slow down.
The copilot knocks on the partition again, and the rear doors open out. Silently, each soldier fanned through the exit, with Landes departing last, his polished black boots making contact with the dusty gravel.
“Any contact?” he murmurs to his radioman, who shakes his head. Scowling, he looks over the 30 men hiding behind the trucks. “Lock and Load! We’re going in 5!” Admidst the ay ay sirs, he peers around the truck at the town. Multiple towers erected behind the walls. The inside of the town was bound to be a deathtrap for his men. The rebels inside are undoubtedly pissed that their nation decided to send an expeditionary force first, rather than a negotiator. He didn’t even know what their demands were, much less he had any authority to acquiesce said demands. He didn’t like this.
“Sir! I found their channel!” The radioman taps at his ear, before taking it off and offering it to his captain. Landes takes it and mounts the earpiece, and the radioman retrieves his rifle. He takes a slow breath, composing himself for the best words. With silent resignation, he toggles his piece off mute.
“Attention! Attention! This is Captain Landes, servant of the Emperor. My mission is to end the rebellion happening here and bring your town back to productive status. We are prepared to finish this in bloodshed, but we would both rather to not have it end this way. Talk to me.” He sighs, shaking his head as he briefly switches channels to encrypted squad comms. “Prepare the mortar and the rockets. Team leaders, identify key targets for suppression. When we go in, I want to do this quick.”
The next three minutes takes excrutiatingly long. He risks another peek at the town. Nothing he could see, though undoubtedly they are preparing for battle as well.
“Rebels of Indigo Quarry, talk to me. I know you use this channel.” He wipes his brow, waiting. 1 minute to go.
“…Anders? Is that you?”
Landes froze. He knew that voice, and more importantly, the voice knew him.
“…Tulley?”
“The one and only. Captain… I see you’ve been promoted since we last met.”
His heart pounds. Fuck everything, fuck it all. -Tulley- of all people?
“I was wondering what happened to you,” Landes murmurs in the mic piece. “You fell off the grid, I couldn’t find you through anything, man.”
“I didn’t want to be found. Not by the Corps, and certainly not anyone in our squad.” The voice lay silent for a brief second. “You should have resigned with me, Anders.”
“We… did what was needed.” He could feel himself getting frustrated, all of his past experiences welling up to the surface. He didn’t realize his own tone became passionate. “You knew that as well as me.”
“Needed? Oh come on, we could have stayed till the bitter end, we could have held out for reinforcements, we could have tried our own evacuation, for fuck’s sake!” Tulley’s distorted voice became heated as well. “Those people were depending on us to protect them, and we marched the fuck away! We got in our little transports and abandoned them to their fate! And you, and I, and everybody in the squad just followed orders!”
“What goddamn reinforcements!?! It was just us, and we were in the middle of bumfuck nowhere! We would have died, and for what? A short delay in their invasion? Just so they could do what they did anyway?”
Silence on the radio, giving Landes a brief moment to defocus from his piece and look around. His men were staring. They’ve never seen their captain lose composure before.
“…You were messed up by it too, Anders. I saw it in your eyes… It’s how I knew you weren’t like the rest of those assholes.”
Landes lets out a frustrated laugh, just as the radioman taps him and lets him know that all sections are ready for assault. He nods, telling him to await his command.
“Tulley, I’m now the asshole in charge. Now I get to make the traumatizing decisions that my men can loathe me for for the rest of their lives. And right now, that decision may involve leveling your town. I called as a courtesy, because maybe, just fucking maybe, I won’t have to let another town die. I want you to do the same. Lay down your weapons. Maybe we can come to an understanding.”
The radio is silent again, save for the static. Landes asks for a quick tactical assessment of the town in the meantime. The walls can be breached by the trucks. Coordinated fire can level key targets. If need be, clustered incendiary mortars would eliminate all resistance. He gulps at the last one. He really didn’t want the annihilatory results expected of him by command.
“…Hold tight, I’m coming out to talk,” the radio suddenly scratches. “Captain Anders Landes, you are the only reason why I’m doing this. Don’t disappoint us.”
The captain breathes a relieved sigh, and glances around once more. “Everyone! Hold fire! Expect a visitor!” | "Who'd have ever guessed... I'll admit, I've missed clashing swords with you. I just never imagined our roles would be reversed."
"I feel the same way. Seems like the village is prospering better than ever with *you* as the hero."
"Well, I'd have been on my way back... except once I saw you, I decided my new responsibilities meant I must challenge you again, for a different purpose."
"We both know you just wanted to fight me again, even if you happen to be doing your job at the same time."
"...You got me. Anyway, enough chat. Time to duel!"
The former hero, Klix, and the former villain, Prent, in their switched roles, prepare to fight. They had clashed many a time back in the day. One day, about four years ago, they were fighting on top of a train, when suddenly the bridge it was travelling over collapsed. Everyone around the train, including Klix and Prent, fell hard into the water below. Everyone survived, but there were many injuries. Prent thought he was going to be left for dead, but the people from the nearby town didn't care who he was, they tended to his injuries the same way they did everyone else's. The compassion shown to him caused him to shift his worldview and he decided to be a hero. He was actually going to ask Klix if Prent could be his sidekick, but when he visited his room, the first thing Klix said is "I understand now why you chose to be a villain. It's so much easier. I'm done with being a hero." All Prent could do was laugh as he said "well, looks like we're still enemies then." Klix was confused at first, then he started laughing too, as he realised what was happening.
They ended up going to different places though: Prent wanted to make amends with the village he terrorised for decades, while Klix thought it best if he never showed his face there again, and took off to find somewhere to start his villainy. By chance, as Prent just finished visiting a city for business, he ran into Klix as he was sabotaging the main road, and Prent could not resist the urge to challenge him.
Klix and Prent begin to circle round, each waiting to see what the other is planning. A crowd has gathered by now, automatically cheering for Prent, as he was challenging the evildoer. Klix relished in the growing excitement, while Prent simply liked being appreciated. Klix makes his first move, and the fight begins.
&#x200B;
Prent makes his final strike, knocking Klix down. Both were exhausted by now, but they both thoroughly enjoyed their fight. Klix just manages to get up, but with no strength left instantly falls to his knees. The crowd celebrate and cheer for their new hero. Prent addresses the crowd. "Thank you all for your support! It has been a while since I last exchanged blows with someone, and you all made it much more enjoyable than in the past!" He then spots five police officers making their way through. One of them stops to talk to Prent, while the others arrest Klix. "Who'd have thought it, eh? Years ago, when I was living in the village..." Prent gives a sly smile. "Well, officer, sometimes things work out completely differently than you imagine." He then turns to look at Klix. "If you're worth your salt as a villain, I trust this will not be the last time our metals clash." Klix gives a huge grin, before he gets taken away. | 2022-08-23T15:04:55 | 2022-08-23T14:23:29 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] Your whole life you've been pressured to avenge your father's death. But honestly, as much as you loved your father, he kind of had it coming. | “An eye for an eye. That is the law!” Karen yells from across the dark room.
She did not sleep last night. On the wooden table between us rests father’s greatsword, polished steel blade glimmering in the dim light. She put the sword there, as she always does when consumed by bad mood. She trembles and impatiently shifts from one leg to another leg, sometimes stomping on the wooden floor boards hard, as if the boards killed her husband so many years ago. Wood creaks and her eyes are tired, poisoned by the madness of a March Hare plant. My father was a village healer, but not even he can heal the March Hare Madness.
Karen was not always like this. Grandfather says that she was the prettiest woman in the village. I don’t think he’s exaggerating. Some of her beauty is still there, when she’s not consumed by rage and anger. Tall and slender, with dark eyes and long hair color of the rich farm soil our village is blessed with… I can see why so many men would stop working and turn their heads toward her when she’d walk by.
“It’s the law!” she yells from half-light again, biting what's left of her nails and pulling the sleeve of her red dress. “You are eighteen now! How much longer are you going to wait to avenge your father’s death?”
I should kill him, it's the revenge law! The elders call it *Lex talionis*, and it has ruined me. Those same elders say that we’d have chaos without *Lex*. *Lex* limits what kind of punishment can inflict on the other. Some even tell tales of times before *Lex*, when the rule was favoring the strong and wealthy. *Lex* removes that inequality, they say. An eye for an eye. Never more and never less. We stand equal before the *Lex,* and as equal we fall.
Except, I don’t want to kill the man who ended father’s life.
I step forward and take the heavy sword from the table.
“Not today, Karen. Not today.” I say, almost as a whisper and more to myself than to a shell of a woman that used to be my mother once. I put the sword back to the closet she took it from. From the same closet, I take my father’s medicine bag with healing herbs and medical devices. I hang it around my shoulder and give Karen a soft kiss on her forehead. She clings onto me and yells “Avenge him!” as I open the door and exit our house onto the dirt path full of curious children eyes. Old eyes do not stare at me. They hide their sadness and look away because they know that living with someone consumed by March Hare Madness is worse than death.
“Hey,” Tom, a strong man and a good friend, says from across the road. “What are you up to?” But he doesn’t understand me.
I tap my medicine bag. “What do you think?”
“You know, your mother is right,” he says, scratching his nose the way he does when he’s annoyed. “It’s the law, and old Trent killed your father.”
I nod. He stabbed him three times in the neck when father visited his hut to try to heal him.
“It’s not right, Tom,” I say, “Old Trent--- I can’t do it.”
“But why? No one will care. He’s mad as a---” he stops.
“--- as a March hare?” I lift my eyebrow, in case he didn’t hear the tone of my voice.
“I’m--- I didn’t mean like that.”
“He has the same kind of madness like my mother, Tom. My father was taking care of him when the Old Trent killed him. It was an accident. Old Trent did not know what he was doing.”
“You can’t be sure about that!”
I give him another look and he lowers his head. And how do you know? He doesn’t, I do. From the moment I wake up till the moment I go to bed, I live with the crazy. I know all about March Hare Madness and the way it destroys lives of friends, family and anyone else who cares. He doesn’t. So he should be quiet.
“Whatever,” he says finally, “You are the one who is mad for healing the man who killed your father.”
For a while we walk in silence, past the murmuring crowd and whispering mouths. Few steps later, they start following us because we are on the way to Old Trent’s house and the sword is in my hand. By the time we reach the hut, the crowd counts more than fifty souls in need of bloody entertainment.
“My friend,” Tom says, “please do the right thing. Obey our laws. An eye for an eye, that’s how it goes.”
“I know,” I say and knock at the Old Trent’s house door. His wife Anna opens the door. Like my mother, Anna used to be beautiful once. Now, she is a ghost taking care of a madman. Today, there is a bruise on her left cheek.
“Come in,” she quietly says, lowering her head.
“Did he do that?” I ask her once she closes the door. The bruise is large and fresh and runs all the way down to her neck. The man--- the thing who did it is standing in the corner, talking to himself and stomping on the wooden floor like Karen. March Hare Madness does that.
“He had a bad day yesterday,” she says.
She says it too loud, so he gazes and hisses, and then lifts his fist in the air. The fist that is chained to the wall by a dark chain. Good, I won't need my sword. One day, Karen will be like him.
“I’m so sorry,” I say opening the medicine bag.
I’m not.
From the bag, I pull a small vial with green liquid.
“Give him this.” It’s an extract of the March Hare plant.
“It should help him.” The same kind of extract my father gave him and my mother because you persuaded him. Because my mother found out about you two.
Oh Anna, I know your secret.
“It will make him sleep.” He will scream and shout the whole night.
“He’ll calm down.” He’ll punch harder and more often.
“And soon, you’ll forget about what happened today.” Because it is going to be much worse.
She takes the vial. “Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you.”
“You’re welcome.”
An eye for an eye. A life ruined by the March Hare Madness for a life ruined by the March Hare Madness. That is the law.
&#x200B;
/r/ZwhoWrites | First time writing here, feedback appreciated!
———————————
“Hey Champ, you wanted to see me?” Johnny stood nervously in the doorway.
Champ nodded.
“Shut the door behind you.”
The room was filled with smoke from long drags on cigars, hanging in the air with regret and thick with thought. Andy Champlain was a big man with big hands that dwarfed both Cuban cigars and those that came into his office. Purposefully, of course.
A small-town mob doesn’t run itself.
The boy’s fingers were trembling, though it was clear to Champlain that he was doing his best to still them. A clear giveaway. They’d have to work on that.
“I think we can both drop our pretenses now.”
“I wasn’t going to—“
Champ raised a hand and cut him off.
“I know.” He tapped tip into the ash tray. “That’s why I called you here other than just killing you.”
Johnny sighed. Whether it was relief or frustration, who could say? His hat stayed balled up in his hands, an old thing he’d always worn.
“Honestly, I’m surprised. Four years you’ve worked here and I never thought you might be Don’s kid.”
Johnny tensed. “It wasn’t like that.”
“But what really surprises me — and I don’t get surprised — is when I gave you the chance. I put a pistol in your hand and told you to watch my back. And you did.”
“Can I explain, sir?”
“Go ahead.” Champ still wasn’t sure if he was going to kill him. What harm could a few words do? If the kid wanted to pop out a speech, who was he to deny him?
“I heard great things about my father since I was small. How he used to make sure we meant something here.” Not the start he was expecting. A thesis statement. It might took longer than Champ thought.
“Y’know, you can sit down.”
“I’d rather stand.” Johnny’s hands were still shaking. Champ raised an eyebrow, but simply puffed on, then nodded.
“My mother showed me how it used to be. She had pictures of the town before you. She told me you were close. Friends, some would say.”
“That was twenty years ago.”
“But it still mattered,” Johnny continued. “Which is why you made sure we had money after he died. I don’t know if it was guilt or what.”
“Louise deserved a break.” Two excuses in a row. The kid didn’t seem to buy it either.
“She did. But she still hated you.”
“Enough for you to ask for a job here,” Champ supplied.
“Enough for me to want to kill you,” Johnny corrected.
The air wafted still. The final question still hung, but if Johnny wasn’t going to give him it, he’d fish.
“What changed.”
For the first time seeing him that day, Johnny’s shoulder’s relaxed. The creases on a face too young to have them seemed to fall away.
“Family.”
There was an odd, cold feeling in Champ’s fingers.
“We don’t kill often. I know that, now. Not unless you think it’ll help. It made me think. It was a net gain for you to shoot him, dump him, and take his place. But not to improve. Not to make amends.”
“If you’re going to say something, spit it out.”
“I grew up in a broken home. I saw what he did to mom. I remember it, kind of. I didn’t have a home. Here? I belonged. You didn’t recognize me, but you made sure I was welcome. Your family became mine, even when everyone else said you took my only chance.”
Champ’s entire body, usually warm and steaming in the heat of life, was ice cold.
“So if you’re going to kill me, I just wanted to thank you for a place to belong. And the best years of my life.”
Then they were only two men, standing with air cleared between them. | 2019-10-22T09:50:42 | 2019-10-22T08:39:11 | 52 | 21 |
[WP] Everyone in the world suddenly wakes up one day with their consciousness in someone else's body, but no one says anything for fear of sounding insane. Everyone tries to live out what they think should be their bodies' day-to-day life. | Okay, I tell myself. The important thing is not to panic. I gulp and close my eyes. Okay. Breathe in. Breathe out.
No pressure. I'll just open my eyes and everything will be as it should be. I'll be getting up, grabbing my keys, and going to the coffee shop before heading to work like usual. I can do this. Joe Michael Daves is okay.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I open my eyes to look at myself in the mirror. Except it isn't myself. Instead of my dark brown eyes, I'm peering into baby blues. My beautiful sacred beard I grew for No Shave November is instead replaced by PEACH FUZZ. My handsome locks of spikey black hair imitating that one Korean pop star who I forgot his name was gone. Instead I have curly red swirls of a mess sitting atop my noggin. MY FREAKIN' HAIR! I open my mouth to scream.
It was so high pitched it would give soprano opera singers a run for their money.
Shit. I'm here stuck in... Whatever the heck this is! Dream? Nightmare? I don't know. All I know is I gotta wake up soon.
The doorknob nearby rattles.
Oh fuck.
I'm peering up at a lady who I'm guessing is "my" mom? Well she seems to have similar features to me, curly red locks and all. Nice looking.
"Oh."
The lady is just... Standing there at the door.
Um... I look at her and she looks back at me.
We're not saying anything and everything is just awkward and tense. Suddenly it felt like some forced drawn out game of wits where whoever moves first loses or something.
I see her gulping and shifting her gaze left and right. What is with her? It's kind of suspicious...
"Oh hey Sally honey! Uh, I heard you... Screaming and stuff... Um... You ok?"
Wait. Sally? Oh. So "my" name is Sally.
She seems to notice me shifting my steps, "Oh, uh does your feet hurt or something?"
I shake "my" head, "N-no... Mom, I'm ok, seriously. No big deal, just a bug... Or something."
She seems relieved. Good. "Oh. A bug... Yeah... Alright then. So I'll just uh, go make breakfast and stuff. Oh uh, good job on your report card, kiddo! First grade English and all, nice!"
Nice?
"Imma go now. Get ready for school... Or something. Um, yeah."
She leaves the hall and I'm just standing there just as perplexed as I was earlier.
"Dang six years old and already talks like an adult, kids are growing up fast. I didn't even know they could scream that high."
Wait, something's up. If this was "my" mom, shouldn't she not be surprised at the ability of my vocal cords? Vocab I'll have to work on now that I know that "I'm" a six year old named Sally. Who freakin' names their kid Sally nowadays?
I overhear "my" parents talking. It sounds a little off...
"Hey, uh honey, I made breakfast. Eggs and bacon and stuff."
"Oh. Oh! Uh... Thanks... Dear, I like it."
A pause.
"Wait, I think I'm supposed to be watching my cholesterol."
"Oh. Oh that's right, you right, you right, Get some cereal, boo."
"Huh?"
"Uh, I mean, get some cereal and hurry up, don't wanna be late, honey!"
"Right. I'll just get coffee and grab donuts on the way."
"Cool."
Another pause.
"Um, honey, I forgot, how do we work this coffee maker?"
(First time posting here, I hope this is alright!) | "Gleep gloop," the strange looking cat said. It had six legs, two tails, and looked like a mountain lion but was somehow profoundly different than anything that Nick Foreman had ever seen. He tried walking and fell. "Gorpie zynvxie."
"What is happening?" Nick said, but the words were hard to say with this odd, blunt snout that he now had for a mouth. He tried to walk and fell. "Please help."
"Blaxi taxi!" the cat-lion-insect looking thing said before pouncing on Nick.
&#x200B;
\*\*\*
&#x200B;
"You're awake!" the words sounded wrong and lispy, but at least it was in a language that Nick recognized. "One already died."
"Who are you?" Nick asked, opening his eyes. He expected a human, but saw another cat creature. "What happened?"
"The best we can tell is that these aliens somehow transplanted our minds into their bodies. No one knows why."
"This is a dream. I'll wake up."
"You won't."
&#x200B;
\*\*\*
&#x200B;
*I dunno where I'm going with this...seems like a cool idea though.* | 2019-05-02T11:16:43 | 2019-05-02T07:22:17 | 58 | 13 |
[WP] In a dystopian theocracy, criminals get injected with diseases and locked up until they either survive the disease or die. The worse the crime, the worse the disease. If a criminal survives the disease, the system determines that the person is innocent and God has interfered to show this.
Edit: thank you kind stranger for my first ever reddit award <3 | In the first day, she had shrieked every waking hour, clawing at the walls, clawing at the metal door, clawing ragged her own skin.
In the third day, she could no longer scream- her strength was spent, her throat hoarse, and the only harsh noise she could make was her frail fist thumping at the walls.
In the fifth day, every shred of flesh in her body was reduced to doing nothing but wasting their already sparse strength spasming in agony, slowly withering, and her power was no more than hoarse curses.
And now it was the seventh day, and she laid stone-still on the bed, without the strength to move, without the strength to speak, barely enough to breathe- to do nothing, indeed, other than the irregular twitching of her muscles.
The lucky ones got actual diseases. It was simpler to survive that, and if you died, you'd die. The worst of the worst, those guilty of heresy? Not simple blasphemy or disbelief, but heresy? They were given the Crucible. An unnatural fabrication, a thing that turned men to slowly withered husks as they slowly went insane from the agony. *Nobody* was known to have survived the Crucible. Nobody.
And so she laid like a shriveled grape on the bed, praying that death would come soon- and God would be forgiving, as they always said.
A key quietly turned in the heavy lock of her cell door, and a thin ray of the bleak light outside fell on her. Was it time for a meal? Did it even matter, when she had not the strength to *look* towards the door, let alone eat? If the Crucible didn't take her in a few days, hunger would.
Soft footsteps echoed in the tiny cell, entirely unlike the thudding sounds of the guards' hobnailed boots. A finger softly touched her chin, and she would've flinched if she could: the touch felt as cold as bitter ice. The finger slowly turned her head, her neck muscles weakly straining in protest, and her visitor came into view.
He wasn't a guard.
The face was youthful enough, tanned and marked with but the first creases of advancing age, but two black eyes looked at her, their piercing gaze almost a thousand years old. He was garbed in an immaculate white coat that seemed painfully bright in the pale light.
The First Penitent, Voice of the Father, smiled down sadly at her.
Even in her wasted wreck of a body, a subconscious reflex, instilled from birth, shrieked in a mix of repeated respect and abject dread. Her ruined muscles tried to stand up, so she might fall to her knees in awe and fear. Her voice wanted to croak 'Your Eminence'. But she had not the strength to do any of those, and thus her body just flopped on the spot.
The First Penitent laid a hand on her chest, freezing even with the thin, sweat-soaked shirt she wore in between. "Hush, child. Do not be hard on your body. The Crucible takes much out of someone." The hand left her chest as she stilled, and rose to slowly caress her hair. "Even from someone who has survived it."
Survived? "It... hurts." She barely managed to croak. The pain burned unabated from the roots of her hairs to the tips of her toenails.
The First Penitent nodded. "The pain never goes away. You learn to live with it. Mold it. Draw power from it. But it never goes away. However, you have survived it. Make no mistake. God has given you a choice." He continued caressing her hair. "All who survive the Crucible make a choice. To stay, and burn in the Crucible, so that they might die and seek the mercy of God in afterlife."
*Or?*
"Or, to repent, to don the white and gold, and join the Penitents."
She gasped for air, almost choking on her breath. The Penitents, the greatest of Father's priests, the greatest of God's servants. They who enforced the Will and the Law, each one an angel among men. This was where they came from? From the most loathed of condemned criminals? It seemed so ridiculous she wanted to laugh.
But she had no strength to, and it was the First Penitent who told her that.
"How?" She managed to mutter.
The First Penitent continued smiling. "How can one be penitent, if he has no great sin to repent? There is not a soul without sin, and only the greatest sinner can walk the path of penitence, for it is razor-sharp and endless." He crouched next to her bed, and held his hand out. "But God is merciful."
To leave here a Penitent. To serve the same God she once fought against, enforcing His will upon people like her. The greatest priests made of the greatest sinners. The idea seemed simply ludicrous.
But the alternative was too lie here, in this bed, for the rest of a very short life until the Crucible finally claimed her. And that was no choice at all.
"God is merciful," the First Penitent repeated, "but you have to reach out for it."
She gritted her teeth, and forced her muscles to move. *Razor sharp, and endless.* Her right arm twitched, shriveled, withered muscles woke, and her hand rose. Inch by agonizing inch, it rose, and dropped limp on the First Penitent's hand, cold, cold as death.
The First Penitent muttered something, and then with a single swift move lifted her from the bed. | Universe ID 4
Universe Chunk #23/59/101
Galaxy 2359101/16
Planet: Earth-like, Moon-like satellite
State: Dystopian, Religion based
Ecological State: Thriving, non-existing near/in arcologies
Writer: [The Owner] Techniker
Note: We try to keep everything in our archive objective, so if something is written down, take it relative to our morals and society (This is a /link/ to our laws, morals, society and history inside this archive)
It seems this ... society banished all and any thoughts of empirical science, some theoretical sciences survived, so long the theories don't interfere with the main religion of this planet. The religion is related to Christianity on Earth 1 (about 2000 before year null and until 2130).
Due to this ... unhealthy association with higher beings, the laws and rules are very unpleasant to experience.
Our first teams and surveys found on of the biggest horrors of law enforcement ever found on ANY planet until now (current date is /Universe bound/ 21.2.1202 E10 // /System bound/ 25.3.34020 E13).
Apparently the higher beings decide if a culprit is guilty or innocent. This is weird way, first encountered, but it gets worse. This is determined by injecting a culprit with a disease. The worse the crime the worse the disease. Then the culprit get their cell, but no treatment, only their higher beings then decide if they deserve to live ... or mostly not.
Some of our scouts were caught "accidentally" breaking a law (this was in first few days, we did not have a copy of the laws until a bit later, /link/ to the protocols of the operation), and got the same treatment. Due to their gen modifications they did not have problems with the diseases.
(Note: these diseases would be huge problems on our Satellite, pandemic ratings ranging from 0.1 to 8.5).
The mentioned arcologies are very impressive and quite modern for this society. They probably are from before the overtaking of religion, due to their surprisingly ecological abilities and materials.
The sand for the concrete shows signs of artificial production. Wood paneling is still on some ... less run down apartments, there is so much space for vertical gardens and forests. The energy, water and drainage system are very nature like and very efficient. These arcologies were definitely huge investments in the future of the planet, when they were new. Today they are the cramped, even more disease ridden, from poverty and crime hit homes of the majority of the population.
Going away from the dense forest of arcologies, we come to huge domes of perfect condition, in and out, where the elites and wealthy live. Sadly, not much to say here.
(Note: heavily guarded and we could not "make" new citizens with the right to live here. We would have to get a job, living space, crime record, religious record and so on, and this was not "worth it".)
/This is the end the report, we are now evaluating if this society is eligible for teaching them the basis of FTL travel, cryogenics and fusion energy. The first impressions is ... bad. | 2020-03-25T09:02:23 | 2020-03-25T08:08:58 | 101 | 40 |
[WP] "I need you to understand something before I kill you." | My kind of profession has always had the risk of death by violence. We all know it, understand it and accept it. It's not unusual to hear of three, four deaths a month, and that's on a low month. It's the risk we all take, because, hey, bigger the risk, greater the reward.
So, now, as I lay tied up in a dingy, abandoned warehouse, all I can think of is that my time has come. I feel almost at peace, knowing that in a few moments my life will be extinguished, and I will be nothing more than a statistic associated with my job. I close my eyes and say a quiet farewell to this beautiful world. As I recall the most memorable moments of my life, I realize that I have led quite a great life, the kind of life most people can only dream of.
I hear soft footsteps. My would be killer has returned. I instinctively open my eyes to take a good look at him. He's in his early twenties, tall, thin, blonde. I realize that he's actually quite good looking, something like a Burberry model. He must be quite popular with the ladies. I suddenly envy him.
He bends down in front of me, taking a closer look at my injured forehead. He's calm. He's by no means an amateur, though I can tell that he's not been in our profession for very long.
He pulls out the wad of cloth stuffed into my mouth. I gasp immediately, taking a long, deep breath.
He speaks softly, in an even, unemotional tone. "Do you know why you are here? Just say yes or no."
"Yes," I reply, my voice hoarse from lack of moisture.
"Would you like something to eat? Or some water perhaps?" he asks, no sense of urgency in his voice.
"A cigarette, if you've got one?" I ask calmly. This is what they would ask for in the movies.
He nods, and takes out a sleek silver case from the pocket of his jeans. He pulls out a cigarette, and carefully, almost gently, places it between my lips, and lights it with a lighter engraved with the initials D.H.
He lights one for himself too. We smoke in silence. I take my sweet time smoking the cigarette, letting my body enjoy the last hit of nicotine. He finishes his cigarette before I do, and sits beside me, waiting patiently, not hurrying me. I'm starting to like this guy, I feel confident that he won't make a mess of things.
Once I'm done with the cigarette, he takes out a kerchief from the breast pocket of his pristine white shirt and wipes away the ashes from my shirt. He gets up and stands in front of me, and finally draws his gun. He loads it with a single bullet, and fits the silencer in place. He points it squarely towards my forehead.
I look into his eyes. They are completely devoid of any emotion.
He speaks softly. "I need you to understand something before I kill you."
I don't say anything, so he goes on. "This is only business. Nothing personal. Say yes, if you understand."
I doubt very much that my saying no would make any difference. "Yes."
I close my eyes. | "I need you to understand something before I kill you."
I look up into the face of my soon-to-be killer, and I see worry. He's worried, he's doubtful, he doesn't want to kill me. Right?
"I don't want to kill you."
Right.
"I have to."
Shit.
"Please understand. They'll kill me if I don't."
Selfish asshole.
"Your wife, your children..."
Ah yes. Them.
"I'll keep them safe. I swear."
Don't cry. You're going to be a killer.
"I'm sorry."
Sure. | 2014-04-26T21:17:52 | 2014-04-26T21:04:38 | 29 | 16 |
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