prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] You are an astronaut in the I.S.S. The last message you received before the world went dark was "turn off all electrical signals,or it will find us." Now as the sun comes over the horizon you see a massive shadow on the earth. | Anita watched the world darken. The fires of the Earth – Paris, London, New York – one by one they all extinguished, like a swarm of lightning bugs dying in the air and hitting the ground with a soft thud. She focused on a spot on the Indian peninsula, her hometown of Delhi, usually a festival of color and lights, was now as black and barren as the rest. They had become shadows, and waited for her to do the same.
*Shut off the lights*, the intercom said. Repeated it like some haunting refrain, *shut it off, shut if off, shut it off.* Houston wouldn't respond, she tried calling twice. But she could swear, after a while, the words *shut it off* took on a more sinister tone, like it wasn't at all human. There was a certain element to the voice – she couldn't put her finger on it – that she didn't trust. No one in the crew seemed to notice.
“Anita,” the commander Denis said beside her, his voice marked by gravel and slavic intonation. “We have to shut it off.”
“Yes, yes,” Anita said. “Just a minute. Something's not right.”
“Anita,” the commander said again. “We need to shut it off.”
The crew nodded behind him: Isa, Henry, and Shane. Their nods were more like mechanic twitches downward, the kind, when done in unision, sends shivers down the spine. “Shut it off,” they all agreed, like a choir. *Shut it off,* a voice inside her even said. It didn't sound like hers. None of their voices sounded like theirs, even Denis, with his marked inflections; it all seemed forced and robotic. She didn't trust it. Deep inside of her too, there was this intense, burning desire to shut the lights off, like the desire that consumed the billions below, who – in almost unison – extinguished their cities, electrical lights, kerosene lamps, without so much as a moment of hesitation.
Something definitely wasn't right.
“Anita,” the commander said again, his voice no longer intonated. It was cold, hard gravel speaking now. “Shut it off.”
Anita looked out the window pane in front of her. The sun's crescent over the Earth was reddish and volatile, and her brain was frenzied and vicious; *shut it off, shut it off, shut it off*, the words repeated like a tornado tearing through every fabric of her being. Her hand hovered on the emergency shut-down button. It shook in the air like her mother's sickly, emaciated hands would've. Her mother.
“No,” Anita said. “I won't do it. Denis, I don't know what's gotten into you, frankly I don't know what's gotten into most of Earth, but….I don't want to do it. I won't do it.”
There was a lull in time, the air now stale. Denis flintlock eyes met Anita's.
“Very well,” he said. It wasn't his voice, it was a voice of a million speaking through him. He creaked out a smile that cut a swath from cheek to cheek, like a crack forming on stone, and she noticed his teeth were midnight – so totally black not even the edges of the universe could've compared. So black it consumed light.
Anita screamed, and Denis' hand shot out and grasped her by the throat. He stood up and held her in the air, and she gasped for breathe; choking, pushing, punching, doing anything she could to get oxygen into her veins, to bring the color back to her now purple-shifting face. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Isa walk over and press the Emergency Shut Off button, and the entire universe went black then.
Before she died, Anita could see, in their silhouettes, their flesh start to peel to reveal tar underneath. | The blue orb of Earth lazily drifted through space. As though nothing at all was wrong. Shane had never gotten over the sense of wonder that his home planet conveyed to him since he launched into orbit. It had not occurred to magnitude of loneliness one could feel as part of the 6 human beings outside of that orb.
The lights had been off for an hour. Earth had never looked so alien and uninhibited.
The message had come in right after they crossed into the darkness. Shane and the rest of the crew had been incredulous, but they hadn't gotten this far in life by not taking NASA seriously. They immediately shut it all down. The international space station, one of the greatest scientific undertakings of Shane's lifetime, reduced to some sort of futuristic tourist trap. There was nothing to do but gaze in the wonder at the paradoxically larger than life insignificant planet that they called home.
Shane snapped out of wonderment with a sense of unease. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was amiss. He quickly realized, however, that the darkness hadn't begun its recession. This could only mean that something was blocking the Sun.
He anxiously waited for the Earth to rotate beneath him, the limitations of speed only serving to irritate his curiosity. No sunlight had yet penetrated the dark, as if scared to show its face in such a hostile environment. The dark side of the monolithic structure came into view, and carried dread with it.
He felt an emotion that he hadn't expected to encounter in the emptiness of space, and up until this point had been correct. Shane felt the dread of prey faced with a crouching tiger. In the contrast of all the otherness and loneliness of the previous month in space, This primal emotion was amplified ten times.
The certainty of his own demise came to him in a single second. All of human achievement looked tiny and pathetic in comparison to the single structure of an advanced species. It was an uncomfortable certainty that not all electronic devices on Earth could have been accounted for and turned off.
Shane had just enough time to wonder what would violent movement he would be subjected to when the planet he was orbiting suddenly ceased to be, when he saw the light. | 2016-12-12T21:35:20 | 2016-12-12T19:51:15 | 194 | 49 |
[WP] An immortal vampire wakes from a 500 year sleep. He emerges expecting humans to cower before him as they did before, but things are a little different now. No one even believes him when he tells them he’s a vampire. | "Oh wow, sick look dude! Can I get a picture?"
It had been like this the entire night. For some reason, dozens if not hundreds of unholy symbols, rituals, fetishes, and the like had been raised and put on display all at once. This had been going on for several weeks, culminating on this night, where people had even begun to dress in the guise of demons most foul. The sheer thickness of the unholy aura in the air was enough to rouse Mortimer from his rest beneath the cathedral he was sealed in, and, taking it as a sign from his dark lord, he took to the streets to bend the mortals to his will and wreak havoc among the world of the living.
Unfortunately, Mortimer's reign of dark terror has not been without false starts. The entirety of his return had been marred with humans laughing and smiling at him, waving and attempting to frighten him, a vampire! And that's not even the worst of it. His attempts to instill fear in his victims before consuming their liquid essence was constantly halted; the potential morsels would either giggle and walk away wishing him a happy whatever Halloween was supposed to be, or brush off his attempts at intimidation as getting too "into it" and leaving him with bared fangs and unshakable confusion.
And so it was that while Mortimer was traveling down a particularly dark street, absent of even the large poles with glowing orbs inside them, a group of similarly dressed individuals approached him in awe of his attire.
"There is nothing about my clothing to imply I work with the infirmed, now leave me," Mortimer said, at this point too disheartened to even take these foolish humans as a quick snack to feel better.
"Going all out for the character, huh?" one of the group, a female, said. "I'm down with it bro. All these people around here just sticking a couple fake teeth in their mouths and find a black jacket and start calling themselves 'Dracula'."
"They even take the Count's name in vain. Utter blasphemy," muttered Mortimer.
Another of the group continued on, not hearing the lamentations of the ancient vampire. "Yeah, or worse, they spike their hair a bit and throw on a leather jacket, and think that cuts it nowadays, too. They aren't even trying!"
"One night of the year people get to be creative, and they do the fuckin' bare minimum," the last of the group said. "I mean come on, vampires have so much style and potential, and the only ones putting in any effort are us!"
Mortimer's eyebrow rose. "What was that about style?"
The third member of the group began again, his eyes lighting up. "Yeah, like, I know we don't do your costume justice or anything, but we worked really hard to get even close to how cool some vampires look in the better movies and junk. Oh dude, you gotta give us some tips! Your cape is amazing!" The other two nodded at this.
"...It's more of a cloak, really," said Mortimer, who thanked the night his condition didn't allow for blushing.
"Totally sick, dude! Please, please, pleeeaaase let us get a picture?" the first member of the group asked again. "And maybe like, tag along with us to a party we're heading to? It'll be full of people that can actually appreciate the work that goes into a good costume."
Mortimer pondered the offer, and perhaps it was the near endless lack of respect he had suffered since his awakening, or maybe he was too starved of blood to think straight. In any case, he gave an affirmative nod to the collection of fashioned focused teens.
"I do not know exactly why you want one of my pictures so much, but I am sure I will be able to procure one from my crypt," Mortimer assured them, but frowned at their response of giggles.
"This guy's funny," remarked the second of the group. "Here, we can take it with my phone." The three gathered around Mortimer, striking poses and flashing high quality, glue on fangs at the camera. The recently returned vampire was puzzled at their actions, but decided to play along.
*Besides,* Mortimer thought as he revealed his very real teeth for this phone of their's, *it is only fair I indulge these children for a bit. It sounds as though they are taking me to quite the buffet.* | The still warm corpse sagged in his arms, its head lolling backwards in a just-so way, allowing the ancient vampire full access to the blood cascading down its chest.
The One greedily lapped at the brilliant red liquid, contemplating the surprising way the corpse had responded to his attack.
It had laughed at him, giggling like a maniac when he had emerged out of the shadows, even pointing at his fangs as they glistened under the strange street light. The laughter had almost stopped The One in his tracks. Almost. But in the end such hesitation had filled him with rage, and he had ripped the corpse's throat out.
The world was a blur when The One first emerged from the shallow grave. He was unable to make out angles, and the world's edges seemed to melt and meld all around him as his need for human blood became overwhelming, forcing him to act with desperate, pulsing totality.
It hadn't taken him long to follow the closest metallic scent and now, as the blood saturated his stomach, The One's thoughts and vision began to clear, casting forth the blanket of yearning that had settled upon his immortal soul. He had been gone a long, long time.
The light above him crackled lightly, almost like the intermitant buzzing of a bee.
"Strange," The One said, looking up. "This is no fire."
Shapes and objects crystallized around him, their distinct appearances surfacing from the undulating blur of moments before. He noticed that the signs along the street displayed a language that had been slightly altered but remained much the same, and he found that he could understand the words on the banners but not their meaning.
Pharmacy. Woolworths. Starbucks.
Then he saw something familiar, a sign mounted on a metal pole at the end of the cobblestoned road. High Street. So the world hadn't changed that much.
In fact, over the next few days and weeks The One began to find that the world had not changed that much at all, and that most of the changes that had occurred were for the better. For instance, now he didn't have to relocate from village to village as often, as in this time a thousand villages were combined into one great metropolis. As long as he took care to cover his tracks, he could feed with wanton abandon. A dense, congested, limitless buffet.
And so he did. He killed and fed and grew in power and legend until the time came that he must sleep again.
He went to sleep more fulfilled than ever, and more powerful than ever, counting down the years in his dream. | 2020-03-22T12:55:08 | 2020-03-22T12:54:51 | 30 | 14 |
[WP] You are a reformed supervillain that has settled down and raised a family. When your child starts showing signs of superpowers and anger issues, you feel it's your duty to set him/her down the right path. | "Susan killed another squirrel."
Maria was very chill this time, relating the acts of our daughter. Our only child. "She lured it in with nuts and berries, but laid a trap."
"What was it?" I asked.
"Spike pit," she answered. "Coated in mud."
"Ah. Time to have the chat with her." She nodded solemnly. My wife was always the more empathetic of us. She always held out hope. If she thought it was time, then it was time. "Bring her to my study. I'll get everything ready."
\*\*\*
She knew she was in trouble the moment she entered. I was seated in the big leather chair that I used for work, at the big cedar desk I used to impress people, big red phone that was a direct line to the mayor and the big green phone that was a direct line to our city's Guardian. It was a long time since I've had to use that line.
"Do you know why you're here?" She nodded.
"Do you feel bad about killing the squirrel?" She shook her head.
"I don't feel much of anything," she said. "Kind of dead inside."
Relief. There was still hope if I could make her feel again. I gestured to the walls around me, bereft of accolades or diplomas as study walls might often have. "Do you know why I don't keep awards in my office, Susan?"
She shook her head and kept silent. Smart girl. "I don't keep them because I never received them. Nobody praises me for what I did and what I do. I never went to college and never earned a degree. I don't want people looking around at the things I've done. I want them looking at me, and thinking of what I can do. History is such a messy and complex topic. It's better to look towards the future. That said, I do keep a few things."
I pressed a button on my desk, hidden beneath the pen holder, and the wall to my right slid into the the ground. Behind it was a veritable hoard of weaponry, monitors, and bits of cape, trophies from an age long past. She recognized the emblem immediately.
"You're \*the Eliminator\*?" She gazed with wonder at the instruments of malice I once used and the newspaper clippings from stunning robberies and brazen murders.
"I was." I stood from my desk and walked to my wall. "It was a dark time. I have since seen the error in my ways, but it's so difficult staying to the right path. You know Catalyst?"
"The Guardian?" she wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Everybody knows Catalyst."
"He is my sponsor," I replied, ignoring her face. "He used to check in from time to time to make sure I was still reformed and hadn't slipped back to my old ways. But it is hard. So hard. It is inside me; a part of me. I hoped you would be different."
"I can be different," she said nervously. "You're proof. You changed." She was aware of her predicament, but I could see the lie in her eyes. Smart girl. Such a shame.
"No," I said, "I haven't." I pulled a lever on the wall and vaporized her with a modulated pulse disintegrator. Her screams sounded like AutoTune dying away. I sat back at my desk and thought for a while. This was always the hardest part, chipping away at my hope. Eventually, I leaned in to the intercom hidden flush to the desk and activated it.
"Maria, dear, have you selected the next embryo?" | "Jennifer..."
Helen stared at the glass in front of her. Part of it had been cracked via a fist. The raven haired teen looked at her mother with a smile. "I guess I've become what you wanted."
"I never wanted this!" Helen attempted to jump through the glass, to wherever Jennifer was. Her power was cancelled lout by something, and the former villain could only remember how the hero defeated her using a similar trick. "Please, stop! You'll become-!"
----
Helen rubbed the tiredness from her eyes. The ceiling fan above her span in a continuous motion. Her little girl was snuggled into Helen's side, light blue hair tangled in her mother's cyan. Helen's breath hitched as the image of her little girl repeating the sins of the mother crept into her mind. "Why do those dreams keep coming back?"
"Mommy? Why are you crying?"
"Huh? Oh, it's nothing, just the pollen."
"Mommy..."
"I promise it's the truth." Helen smiled at her daughter, hugging her tighter.
Jennifer snuggled into her mother's arms, until her other mother came in, two cups of coffee in hand. "Okay, everyone up! Helspawn you have work and Jenny you have school."
"Why'd you have to use my old alias?! It's so embarrassing!"
"I'll get the wanted posters too if you don't get up!"
Helen buried her face in her hands, face red. "Oh please, for the love of all that is and isn't holy let me forget that already!"
"Get out of bed and I might tease you less. Also this coffee's getting cold and my arms hurt so take it before I dump it on you."
"What a hero." Helen joked, taking the coffee from Ashley.
"What a villain."
"What a what what~!" Jennifer began singing her favourite song, smiling like any little kid would. Nothing like Helen's nightmare.
| 2019-01-31T09:24:59 | 2019-01-31T08:00:54 | 42 | 17 |
[WP] The Humans are..interesting. Their weaponry is ancient, but their warriors are nearly unstoppable. | -----transmission recieved----
they dug holes in the dirt. And sat in them. And fought there, until they died. They killed a few warriors each, but it was of not matter to the brood mother, she could always make more. It didn't take long, only 4 cycles and the planet was theirs, but the humans persisted.
they were beaten. Crushed. They had nothing left to fight with. Our warriors were stronger, faster, and more coordinated than any human could be. But still they persisted. Their groups were becoming smaller, more ragtag, more isolated, but they fought on. It wasn't until too late we realized what they were fighting for.
The few groups of humans that got past us were just killing Hive Queens, or so we thought. But it was much more sinister. For they killed the right Hive queens. They left holes in our defenses that we never even noticed. Because who cares about an old human building that says NATO? The holes were finally placed just right, and the humans struck.
T
he ground rumbled. Doors in the ground, and abandoned building thought full of grain cracked open, and primitive rockets shot into the air. The Queen mother though nothing of this really. The rockets had no usable material inside. Just Uranium, or Plutonium. A few even seemed to just contain hydrogen. How wrong we were to not care.
2 hours later, the planet the unlivable. The explosions that rocked the planet, each one targeted to a hive queen, were just the beginning. The explosions created a disease. The new offspring, though growth accelerated to replace the losses, were coming out wrong. The planet cooled as the smoke and dust filled the atmosphere. Then the humans came back. Boiling out of the ground, but this time not in their pink skin. Now they had exoskeletons. A shiny white cloth. The human losses this time were just as bad as in the first invasion, but this time we could not replace the lost warriors. The few remaining Hive queen's young would not grow. Some were born dead, some with extra limbs, but most simply stopped growing after a few hours. In a mere week, the work of cycles was undone. There were no more Hive queens left alive on the planet. Our warriors wandered aimlessly, undirected, and slowly died to both human hunting parties and what remained of the local wildlife. But the humans weren't done. From their smoldering wreck of a world, new ships went out into space. The first were unmanned. The next carried them to their smaller planet sharing their orbit. The next to their asteroid belt. Then the humans spread over their solar system, mining and preparing. And then it happened again. The first time it was was merely a few thousand missiles. This time it was more. Hundreds of millions of missiles. Launched from their solar system, and headed for every world inhabited by our kind
This message is a warning to the galaxy. Stay away from the humans. They will not give up. They will not surrender. And they will make you pay.
-----end transmission-----
"this transmission was received less than hour ago, sir" The lad looked young enough he might have been born on the ship. "It was picked up by one of the probes sent to confirm mission success"
An old man, sitting in his chair smiled. "It's done then?" "Yes, Sir." the lad replied. "As far as we're aware, the bugs are extinct." The old man laughed softly. "That's what they thought about us, son. Never let your guard down." He stood, his cane thumping against the deck. "Now lets get down to the rec rooms. There'll be a party."
As the ship sailed through the stars, the sounds of festivities carried through the hull to a small larvae. Curled up in an air duct. Waiting for the scent of a fresh atmosphere that would start it's metamorphosis into a new Hive Queen... One that would remember the humans. And would make them pay. | Galactic Cycle 807, Battle Log
War of Sol-3, Conflict Omega
*transmission start*
"..Hello? Is this thing on? If you're hearing this, we didn't make i-"
*Explosions are heard off in the distance, the source is unknown*
"Oh Hive Mother, what have we done? Why, of all the species in this horrid universe, did we stumble upon the most vicious of them all?"
*The sound of metal slamming against metal is heard, presumably a door or gateway near the transmission source being opened*
"Oh good, Lieutenant. Have evacuation procedures begun as planned?"
"Um... no sir. There's an issue with the evacuation ships."
"An issue?"
"Yes sir, well, I mean, they kinda, *aren't there*."
"The ships are... gone. Do you mean to tell me, that the last hope for our army's survival, not to mention the most heavily researched and tested pieces of equipment that we have, are simply... gone?"
"Yes sir. They're gone. We do know where they went, however."
"You mean that there's a chance at recovering them?"
"Well, see, that's sort of the problem. The, err, the Humans have them, sir."
*Transmission goes silent for a period of time, unknown if natural or other error*
*The recoil of an energy rifle can be heard*
"Sergeant, you're in charge now, clean up this mess and gather up all remaining troops. Main base, we make our last stand tonight. Who knew that a bunch of hairless apes could be so ruthless, and all for some of our Reproduction Practice Robots...."
*transmission end*
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Wrote this very quickly without *too* much planning, first thing I've ever posted here. I hope to eventually get to the point where I can write beautiful pieces like some of the people here, but for now I'll keep grinding it out and see what works. The dialogue feels unnatural as that's still something I'm not particularly good at, but I wanted to give something like this a go. I'll probably make changes to it as I receive feedback, simply to have a more enjoyable piece of writing. | 2018-01-11T20:12:15 | 2018-01-11T18:43:18 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] it was a dark night when our villain heard a wrap on their door. To their surprise their arch nemesis, the hero, collapses into their arms. Beaten and a bit woozy in the eyes ,the hero looks up and barely manages to get out "I wasn't sure where else to go" before going limp. | "Emma?" Shadow Wolf groaned as his eyes flickered open.
"It's Sidewinder." I corrected with annoyance. He was the only one that insisted on calling me by birth name and not my villain alias. "Whoa, don't move!" I stopped him as he tried to get up. I was in the middle of stitching up a large wound across his abdomen.
He stopped trying to move as he realized that I had stripped him of his armor and was treating his injuries. "You just wanted to see me in my boxers..." He muttered.
"The Ninja Turtles were a surprise..." I rolled my eyes as I finished the stitch. "Are you going to tell me what happened?" I nodded over towards the pile of scrap metal that was his discarded battle armor. "It looks like you lost a fight with a trash compactor."
He chuckled at that and grabbed his chest as he let out a pained wheezing fit.
"Derick." I grabbed his arm. "I don't know why you came here. You should be in a hospital."
The hero shook his head as he caught his breath. "No, they'll find me. They are hunting me..."
"What are you-?" I stopped as a look of pain crossed over his face. The fear in his eyes unnerved me. He has faced armies of alien invaders and inter dimension demons. He was the lone Shadow Wolf, the strongest vigilante in the city. He was not afraid of anything.
"Liberty Girl, Scarlet Butterfly, Knight Ranger and Blizzard are dead." He spoke so quietly that I had to lean forward to hear him. His words sent a cold chill down my spine. These were some of the strongest heroes in the country. Derick usually worked alone, that was kind of his thing, but he did often team up with the other heroes when they were against a strong foe. They had partnered up to go after me on several occasions, not that their teamwork could overpower me. They weren't exactly the Care Bears and all had giant egos that were easy to manipulate to turn on each other. Shadow Wolf was the only one that was capable of fighting my psychic powers of mind manipulation.
"How?" I questioned.
"He calls himself Trophy Hunter." Shadow's words were unusually cold. "He collects the masks of heroes. It's...a game for him."
"Derick, I am sorry." I touched his hand. "I really mean that. I know we have... had squabbles but I never wanted any of you dead. I am truly sorry that this happened to them."
He just nodded and slipped his hand into my palm. I winced as he pressed his last 24 hours into my head. Images of violence and splashes of blood flashed through my mind. A sword through Scarlet Butterfly's chest. Blood running through Liberty Girl's blonde hair. Knight Ranger's decapitation. Blizzard dying in a pool of his own blood. Shadow Wolf tried to protect his friends but Trophy Hunter and his men matched him move for move. They beat him and left him for dead. He only managed to escape by melting into the shadows.
"They deserve justice." Derick told me quietly.
"Your thoughts are leaning towards revenge..." I told him.
He just shrugged and the numbness rippling through him gave me goosebumps. "Aren't you the one that told me 'sometimes they are the same'?"
"I...that does sound like something would say..." I frowned. If Shadow Wolf lost his moral compass, where did that leave our dynamic? We've been playing this hero vs villain game since I was kicked out of the Liberty League Heroes Academy.
"How long have you been trying to 'corrupt' me?" He sneered. "Here's your chance to turn me into a villain. That's what you want, isn't it?"
"Is that why you dragged your sorry ass over here?" I snapped back. "So I could "corrupt" you into going on a suicide mission for misguided revenge-" I froze as he cut me off with a kiss.
"As I was dying, all I could hear was your voice." He told me quietly as he slowly pulled away. "I wanted to see your face again." He gently ran his ringers through my hair. I wasn't sure how I felt about that as I looked up into his dark grey eyes.
"Derick, I-"
The building shook as something exploded somewhere in my underground lair. Loud security sirens began to blare indicting an enemy had bypassed my defenses. | Choosing a nemesis is not unlike dating. You get in a few scrapes, maybe have a heist busted, and you figure out if this is going to be the one for you. Sometimes it’s easy. He’s a fire elemental, she’s an ice queen. Sometimes it doesn't make sense at all, but it works. He’s a Victorian detective, he’s a cyborg.
But as a villain you aren’t really complete without a nemesis. I assume it’s the same way for heroes. When you are a four ton Gorilla with a 200 IQ it can be hard to have a normal relationship. They don’t really make an app for that. But the bonds of battle, even in opposition, are sometimes the only meaningful bonds you form. When I was a kid my dad told me that some people love their work, but the lucky ones love their co-workers. And I really took that to heart.
I am not sure when he knew. It isn’t the sort of thing you really talk about. Not that we talk much, honestly. What we have is mostly physical. But I remember when I knew.
It was my birthday. And I was feeling a bit down. Nothing tragic, just that feeling in your gut that you’ve made one more trip around the sun and no one seems to care. So I thought I’d treat myself. Smash and grab on a bank. Maybe get a few drinks after.
I’d ripped the door off the vault and threw it. I don’t need to do that, but I find that people in general see a gorilla throw an 8 ton door and they decide they don’t want any trouble. And this is a local bank, right. Maybe forty K on hand, max.
He caught the door. Caught the goddamn door. For a job that was, at a supervillain level, the equivalent of shoplifting gum. He showed up to a do nothing job, just because it was my birthday.
I didn’t end up going out for drinks. I’m strong. He’s a lot stronger. I can outsmart him with enough time, but when I get impulsive it’s never very close. So I spent the night of my birthday in jail. He even sent a cake. I don’t know if he saw it was my birthday when they booked me or what, but I appreciated the gesture.
Which is why I was so upset to see him hurt. I asked him who did it, and he told me.
It was a big timer. Little bit bigger than me, if I’m entirely honest. But it doesn’t matter. Nobody, and nothing, messes with my man and gets away with it. I don’t have my cyberchimps and Bombobos for show.
War is coming, and it has opposable thumbs. | 2021-07-08T17:16:06 | 2021-07-08T15:23:31 | 266 | 112 |
[WP] Humanity has been eradicated. As the alien race that killed us begins to settle they're shocked to discover that old Earth myths of spirits and demons are far from fiction. The Devil, pissed off at the aliens, has decided to open the gates of Hell and let humanity get its revenge. | The demon looked down from his tower, the flow of humans into hell had exploded in the past few days. Another war, maybe, but this seems bigger. Suddenly a blinding light appeared in the sky. As it approached he could make her out. A winged angel coming down from the sky.
He tensed up, the Lord's messengers were not a common sight in Hell. The angel approached and announced, "The Lord has a message which must be delivered to Lucifer, it is most urgent."
The demon was quite surprised and asked "What does the Lord have to say"
The angel, responded "The Lord wishes for me to deliver this message to Lucifer, please bring me to him"
The demon, knowing that an angel would never fail to carry out God's commands, shrugged and motioned for the Angel to follow. They joined the human masses as they made their way through the vestibule and into Limbo. The demon rang a great bell and waited awkwardly with the angel. The last time he had seen an angel himself was before the fall.
Eventually a great flying ship arrived, captained by of the Satans most trusted lieutenants, who was still of course wholly untrustworthy. They boarded the ship and zoomed through the circles towards the great lake of ice. As they approached the center of hell they could make out Satan, his heads munching on the great traitors of the human race.
Satan looked up, he was bored, not much happened in hell. The boat landed in front of him and that is when he saw the angel. He was quite surprised to see one of God's messengers in his domain.
The angel flew up from the boat and cleared their throat. Satan Himself dwarfed the messenger, being one of God's earlier creations.
The angel announced "The human race, the Lord's greatest creation has been attacked. They have been wiped off the mortal plain. The Lord finds this to be unacceptable. The beasts which have committed this act must be destroyed. I hereby permit you to open the gates and let forth your legions"
Hearing this Satan looked up with surprise. Hell was their prison and he knew that God would not let him out if it were not serious. And he knew how much humanity meant to God. He immediately ordered his legions mustered and prepared for war. He resented that fact that he would not be able to lead his armies himself, being trapped in the lake of ice, but a chance for war was always welcome.
That was when the angel surprised satan further, The angel removed from their cloak a golden orb of the most brilliant light. The angel announced "The Lord has permitted you to be freed, but you must return after the battle is over."
Satan could no longer hide his excitement as he reached out for the orb. As he grasped the orb and melted the ice around him with a brilliant light he stretched his legs for the first time in over a million years. He beat his great wings and took off.
For six days Satan and his followers prepared for war, and on the seventh, they marched forth. When satan reached the gate he turned to his followers and released a blood curdling roar. His followers, all the demons and cursed souls responded in kind. Satan ordered the gate opened and watched as he felt the light of the Lord touch his face for as long as he could remember. He took a step forth out of his prison and began his brutal slaughter of the aliens.
At Star Navy high command the generals were drunk. They had won a stunning victory and surely would be rewarded handsomely by the Star King. The conquest was quick and the humans entirely weak. Ounce they found their guns and missiles could not pierce the plasma shields of the Star Kings forces they had begun to sing and shout out for aid from their "Gods." The star Kingdom and moved past the outdated concept of religion, after all only the Star King was worthy of any admiration. After all he was the most powerful being in the universe, nothing could stand against the Star King.
Just then a officer walked in. Lord Admiral Zeck, the Star Kings own son, looked at him drunkly, he waved his hand and slurred "whaat is it?" and then released a loud belch.
The officer responded "My lord, in sector 17 11th corps has reported a massive enemy presence.
At this Zeck frowned. He was the Lord Admiral, the Star Kings own son. He had said that they had won the the war. If he said the war was won, the war was won!
He told the officer to inform 17th corps there was nothing wrong.
The officer, confused, left to do exactly that.
When the officer tried to contact general Bontex he was answered the beeping of no response . He tried again, again no response. He could tell Zeck was in a bad mood so did not bring it up to him, better not to rock the boat. He had just gotten a promotion after all.
It was the next day when Zeck woke up with a splitting headache. He looked out the window at the new world they had conquered for the kingdom. Smoke was rising in the distance. Something was wrong. The conquests had concluded three cycles ago. There should not be smoke, and certainly not in that quantity. He stormed into the meeting room with the other generals. Demanding to know why there was smoke. The generals then informed him that they had reports coming from all over the planet, a massive army of humans and other beast were rampaging across the planet. For every one killed with their weaponry two more replaced them. Only 1st Corps 4th corps 9th Corps and 16th corps were standing.
This was bad, if he messed up his father would not show him mercy. His older brother was murdered for taking to long on a conquest, if he took to long there was no doubt a similar fate would follow.
Suddenly a bright light appeared in the distance. At this point Zeck was furious, his head was pounding and the bright light was not helping. He ordered it shot down.
Despite the Star Battleships impressive armory the light only got bigger and bigger. Suddenly three winged created burst through the window into the bridge. They looked like the old inhabitants of the world but much taller and with great feathered wing and a glowing eminence.
The Middle angel Boomed "I am Michael, you have sinned against the Lord."
Micheal pulled out a flaming sword and struck Zeck down. The other generals and officers looked on in shock, if this being could kill the Lord Admiral himself, son of the Star King, what chance did they have. A sudden commotion occured on the bridge were some bowed before the being begging for forgiveness while other ran screaming.
Michael said to them, "Repent and never return to this earth" and turned and flew away.
The star Navy commanders could not believe it, they had survived. They promptly turned the ship round and left. Abandoning the Army to it's fate. They knew they could not return home, only the Star Kings vengeance awaited them there. They set their course for far away and jumped to lightspeed,
Back on earth Satan's armies marched unopposed. Satan had finally conquered the world, just as he had dreamed so long ago. After mopping up the final alien remnants has flew to Jerusalem, it would be fitting that he should visit the place considered so holly by the Lord's followers. But when he landed he saw Michael and a few other archangels waiting for him.
Michael said "Lucifer, to think after all these years we would find each other fighting on the same side."
Satan responded "yes, yes it is." He knew now that the Lord did not mean for him to be freed. He thought for a moment that he might strike Michael down, finally kill the one who had imprisoned him so long ago. But in his heart, he know it was a battle he could not win. And so he solemnly Said "Farewell Michael I know where you are to send me."
And Michael looked back at him with sadness in his eyes "farewell" he said,
Satan flew back to hell where he would remain until he was freed by fate once more.
The Lord created more humans to live on the earth and the world slowly returned to normal. But satan would not forget what it was like to walk upon the green earth and feel the Lords light. | The elders of our interstellar civilization always cautioned us never to anger them. "The Elohim", that's what they're called. A very ancient and very powerful Type IV civilization, perhaps one of the oldest in the Universe. They are believed to have evolved just as the universe was feeling its way out of the dark ages, shortly after the first stars emerged out of the infinite darkness. As the eons progressed, they only became more powerful and advanced, until they eventually managed to shed the confines of their obsolete biological forms and exist merely as clouds of higher consciousness capable of assuming any form they desire. And after that, the whole universe became their oyster, they became capable of such colossal feats that eclipse those of any other civilization we know of, their structures span entire galactic arms, dwarfing even the mightiest of our stellar energy swarms, they are capable of traversing the cosmos at such speeds that put our most advanced warp drives to shame. But it does not stop here, they are said to be able to influence the evolutionary paths of entire planetary ecosystems, and their most prominent faction, led by a powerful being only known as Yahweh, is rumored to have unlocked the power to manipulate the laws of physics themselves. Nobody in the entire cosmos even dares to think about challenging them. And for the most part, they leave other civilizations alone as long as they do not cross the line. Those who did, were wiped out without a trace, that's what happened to Sodom and Gomorrah, the powerful Type II civilizations that thought they could form an alliance to take on the Elohim, the very few surviving records tell that the ensuing events led to the complete destruction of entire stellar constellations.
For the majority of our history, our spaceships traveled the galaxy with clear instructions to not trespass into Elohim Territory under any circumstances, and our laws strictly prohibited any forms of communication with sentient beings evolving under Elohim supervision. That was the case until that fateful day, the day that spelled doom for our entire civilization.
It all happened too fast for us to comprehend let alone prepare for what was happening, a warp failure had caused one of our research cruisers with a newly developed warp system to be knocked out of its charted path. The cruiser ended up inside an Elohim restricted star system, one that contained a small watery planet that was the site of an evolutionary experiment conducted under close watch of Yahweh himself.
It was clearly a crisis situation, but nothing we hadn't handled before, our civilization as well as several others had instances in the past where a ship would get lost or stranded inside Elohim Territory, the standard protocol in that situation was to contact the nearest Elohim outpost, and they would usually allow a rescue expedition to go inside their territory and tow out the stranded vessel within a specified timeframe. Or so we thought.
But this time something was different, the short yet omenous message we received back from the Elohim was enough for our high command to declare a state of hightened alert across all star systems. "Warp anomally detected near System S957251, believed to be a hostile act. Containment systems breached. Beelzebub Protocol Activated".
We had no idea what that meant at the time. But in the aftermath, it became clear what we have unintentionally unleashed upon ourselves. The Elohim evolutionary experiment on that planet was aiming to carefully manipulate the evolutionary path of some bipedal species to create a copy of their ancient biological ancestors, the one who was overseeing the experiment was Yahweh's closest lieutenant, known as Lucifer the lightbringer. During the advanced stage of the experiment, Lucifer decided to infuse a tiny amount of Elohim essence into the male and female prototypes of the newly evolved species. This caused the experiment to go sideways, the prototypes became self aware and demonstrated signs of free will. This angered Yahweh who banished him to the depths of the experiment planet. A restricted area was established around the star system to prevent other space faring civilizations from entering. Meanwhile, the two prototypes escaped the test site and kept reproducing, and the numbers of their offspring kept swelling. While they've been mostly an evolutionary success, They remained in a constant struggle between their infused Elohim essence and their animal urges. But that species was nothing like the Elohim, they were a lot more hostile and animalistic in their ways, they glorified war and had no respect for the delicate and diverse ecosystems that existed on their planets, ones the likes of which were very rare and could be found on only a handful of planets around the galaxy.
At first, Yahweh tried to end the experiment and cleanse the planet with a great flood, but after he saw the craftiness and resilience of these peculiar creatures he only grew fond of them. He started communicating with a select few of them, until he eventually decided to send them his son in human form to establish good relations. But things didn't go as planned, for they brutally tortured and murdered his son, leading Yahwe to cease all communication with the species.
In his exile underneath the planet's surface, Lucifer was quietly plotting his revenge. When the humans on the surface died, their Elohim essence would try to find its way back to Yahwe. But Yahweh wasn't too enthusiastic at first about taking them in, he had to come up with strict criteria for accepting them in order to make sure they were not too polluted by the basic instincts of their animal-like vessels, all who did not pass the criteria were sent to the planet's interior to join Lucifer in Exile. And Lucifer was using those exiled souls to build an army of twisted Elohim to use for his final battle against Yahwe.
All this came to an abrupt end when our research cruiser warped out near that planet. The malfunctioning warp drive generated a great disturbance in the spacetime fabric around the plant, the resulting spacetime shockwave caused a collapse of all biomatter on the planet down into a soup of basic organic compounds. And the Elohim essence contained inside billions of members of that species was all released at once, the energy that accompanied their release was enough for Lucifer to break free of his prison along with his entire army of twisted Elohim.
The rest is well known history, before any of us realized what was happening, the great Elohim Civil war was being fought all across the galaxy, trillions of lives were lost, entire star systems decimated. Our civilization was held responsible by Yahwe for this disaster, and the very few of our systems that survived the onslaught met the same fate as Sodom and Gomorrah at the hands of Yahwe.
All because of one mistake.. a very costly mistake. | 2020-09-18T11:45:25 | 2020-09-18T11:25:32 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] Instead of of Mice Infestations, your world has tiny Gordon Ramsay Infestations. | I excitedly unlocked my front door and braced myself for the smell of cooking to hit me.
 
I quietly took my shoes off and snuck down the hallway to my bedroom, changing out of my work clothes before heading out into the small kitchen to watch the action.
 
Almost fifty little chefs scurried through the kitchen, operating the pulleys and levers to open the oven, climbing the rigging and ladders to get in and out of the fridge and cupboards and using the miniature cranes to prep the food.
 
I sat at the counter watching them work. Next to me, with a view of the entire kitchen was the alpha Ramsay. He looked over his worked with a tiny telescope and consulted his notes.
 
“Alright you lot, I want that venison on a plate in two minutes!”
 
“Yes chef!” a chorus of squeaky voices called out.
 
He turned to me with an expectant look on his face.
 
“I got a shiraz and a merlot” I said showing him both of the bottles I had picked up on the way home.
 
“The Merlot, you muppet, get on it!” The alpha went back to overseeing the operation.
 
As I poured myself a glass and set it on the bench two plates made their way from the prep area around to the serving side of the bench. Four Ramsay's carried each plate, one set out with a human sized portion, and one larger plate with miniature portions.
 
I had to admit it, they had really gotten working the new surgical blades I got them down to a fine art.
 
“Dinner is served” the alpha climbed down from his little tower and made his way to the bench next to me, the rest of his crew all lined up eagerly behind him.
 
I poured the merlot into the trough in front of them and they swarmed forward waiting for the oaky from the alpha to drink. I raised my glass to them.
“Cheer’s Lad’s”.
 
(first response) | "WHAT ARE YOU?!?!" The hoarse voice roared. I sighed, I really didnt have time to deal with then today, I was just trying to make a grilled cheese for christ sake. I was tempted to ignore them, but I'd long ago learnt they didnt stop shouting until someone played along, "an idiot sandwich" I replied, dead inside. | 2017-12-18T14:17:15 | 2017-12-18T12:43:18 | 32 | 16 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | "So," the interviewer said, manicured hands folded neatly in her lap. "How did you end up living in the Cardvale Murder House?"  
 
"Well, my husband Jason sells real estate for a living," Sarah explained, still squinting and blinking at the earliness of the hour. She wore pink yoga pants and a cheery yellow tank top under a wooly gray cardigan. "And I work from home selling my bespoke leather accessories on Etsy. He was trying to sell this gorgeous early colonial and just nobody would buy it. It's in such great shape. It's even got these quirky authentic coved ceilings." She gestured to the curved corners in the plaster ceiling, then held out her hand to her right. The interviewer twitched, blond curls swaying, as a tiny, pale hand emerged from behind a curtain to place a cup of steaming coffee in Sarah's hand. 
 
"Thanks, Priscilla. So he kept coming back with client after client and just nobody would bite, even at the crazy low price the seller was offering. It's not like it was built on a Native American Burial ground. That would be stupid - hang on, it's 9:00." She paused as every chair in the house suddenly slid two inches backward, then forward again. The camera bobbed with the operator's startlement and the interviewer shrieked, clinging to hers with both hands, but her weight hand no impact on the force of the chair's movement.  
 
"Sorry about that," Sarah said. "That's the father, Hiram. He has a thing about chairs. We think it's because he hanged himself by kicking one over? Either that or it's because he used to be a carpenter. We can't even buy new dining chairs because he breaks them. It has to be a pile of raw lumber in the outbuilding left overnight and he just builds new ones. So that's a big perk. They're really solidly built. If we can get a medium in here again next week we're going to ask him about selling some of them online." 
 
"Didn't he kill his entire family?" the interviewer says breathlessly, holding tightly with both hands to the front of her skirt. The camera bobs again slightly as the cameraman nods.  
 
"Now everyone seems to think that, but we actually think the others probably died of natural causes, like pneumonia or cholera or something," Sarah said, gesturing with her free hand. Her energy seemed to increase slightly as she drank more coffee. "They really don't seem angry at him. He and Lula walk across the grounds every night at around ten, hand in hand. So whatever happened, there's obviously no hard feelings."  
 
"What about the children?" the interviewer asked. "Aren't they often sighted covered in blood?" 
 
"Oh, you mean little Robert. He scared a lot of people off during the viewings, I can tell you, but once we got him a ball to play with he just wasn't any trouble at all - in fact, there he goes. Of course he's not fully visible in daylight. He's shyer than Priscilla."  
 
There was a sound of running footsteps, and the interviewer turned to look as Sarah pointed into the vestibule past the elegantly furnished living room. A colorful striped ball bounced slowly past, attended by the sound of tiny pattering feet.  
 
"Anyway, that's a family in-joke. Apparently he ran under a pig Hiram was butchering once and just got soaked, and they all thought it was so funny he never let go of it," Sarah said. "It's kind of gross to me, but you know how little boys are. We think he'll be good company if we have a boy. We're trying to start a family."  
 
"You're going to try and raise children here?" the interviewer said, blinking in startlement.  
 
"Well sure. It's the safest place you can possibly imagine," Sarah said happily. "Hey, Priscilla, I could use some more coffee if you're not busy." She held out the delicate porcelain cup, which gently faded from view. "A burglar tried to get in here once and we only knew it because we found one shoe and a pair of pants he lost trying to get back out the window. He didn't take a single thing with him. Hiram kept moving the chairs around all day that day. But hey, that's how we figured out he calms down if you sing Shall We Gather At The River." She smiled happily at the interviewer. "Oh, but I'm being rude! Would you like something to drink? I don't know where the cups come from, but nobody makes better coffee than Priscilla!" | "Another day another dollar," Bob Saget whispers to himself after a long night of shooting his latest motion picture: Horror Directly Following Late Night Movie Shoots.
"You be safe now! Don't want any sort of horror scenario happening to you on the way home!" chuckles the director.
"What the fuck did I tell you about talking to me after hours?" says Bob, agitated. He saunters off set and hops in his El Camino. As he's driving down the long empty road from the remote set, he catches a glimpse of movement in his rear view mirror. "Fucking great," says Bob, "another fan hiding in the bed of my vehicle. Every fucking time." He reaches in to the glove box and pulls out his .44 magnum. "Ya feeling lucky, punk?" Bob narrates as he jumps out of the coupe/utility pick up vehicle. He circles around the back.
"What the shit is this?" Says Bob, taken aback by the sight of a gorilla in the bed of his truck, bandaging a wound on his leg. Bob tucks the pistol in to the waist band of his favorite slacks.
"Bob, we need your help," said the gorilla, "My name is Luke, the very same from the Bible. The Anti Christ has arrived, and you are the only one that can save humanity."
"For fuck's sake," growls Bob, "why me? Why the fuck are you a gorilla? Why can't I have one goddamn day where I can get home and soak in my Jacuzzi without any sort of urgent distractions?"
"We saw how you handled raising your family in Full House," explains Luke, "Clearly you are capable of anything. First things first, let's get in to town!"
Bob groans. But he knew what to do. This was all part of that goddamn prophecy told to him by the John Stamos on the last day of shooting Full House. "Ok Ubuntu," says Bob, "stay back here and I'll get your leg fixed up, I know a guy."
"My name is Luke, the saint from the Bible," interjects Luke.
"Do you want my help or not? Stay back here Harambe," barked Bob as he jumps back in to the driver's seat. They start traveling.
Bob pulls in to a dilapidated house in the middle of nowhere and hops out of the vehicle. "Alright come on," he tells Luke, "go to the front door there, and be quick about it." Luke hobbles his way the front door.
"I must explain to you the situat-"
"Don't explain shit to me, just open the goddamn door and go in," says Bob, infuriated, "I don't have time to deal with this bullshit, I'm a busy man." Luke pushes the door open. A scene of carnage awaits. Dozens of animal corpses are scattered throughout the room. They all have a saintly glow.
"Matthew? Mark? John? This is worse than I thought, the massacre has already begun!" lamented Luke.
"No shit," says Bob. He whips out his hand cannon and blasts all 6 rounds in to Luke's body. A single tear drops from Luke's eye as he collapses, sad at the sight of his butchered friends, frustrated that he was fooled so easily.
Bob closes the door behind him and starts heading home. "I seriously gotta cool it with that peyote," he says to himself, driving in to the sunrise.
| 2017-05-05T08:14:46 | 2017-05-05T07:10:06 | 29 | 21 |
[WP] You, a low rank adventurer who got stuck with the gardener class, have to put up with the higher ranked adventures trampling your garden and making fun of you. One day a famous adventurer trips on one of your plants and dies. Your level skyrockets. No other gardener has ever leveled up before. | Everything was Just the way it should be. The chamomiles were blooming. The snakeroots, freshly planted. And in front of her stood the Maidenhair, so tall that she could only just see the top. The leaves were just starting to change from their bright green to the brightest gold that would rival the gold the richest of the town carried in their pouches.
The rest of the garden was of a similar nature. Everything was almost ready to be harvested. Well, save for the snakeroots.
“I see you’re still hard at work.” A familiar voice called out. She looked up to the rocky path above her garden.
There Ibras stood, cloaked in his dark wizard robes, marked with the royal purple that was only donned by the instructors from the university. To say he was a high levelled would be an insult to the man. He wasn’t just high levelled. He was the highest levelled wizard of this city.
She looked back down at her garden without responding.
“How long until these are ready to be harvested?” He had suddenly appeared beside her. Months ago, when she first met him, this would have made her scream.But she was used to it now. She reached up and brought the lowest branch down closer.
“Maybe…another week or so? It’s hard to say.” She replied after a moment of thought. He said nothing in return for a while. They stood together, enjoying the silence.It didn’t last long until the wizard spoke up again.
“Why’d you chose this class?”
“You’ve asked me this five times already.” She sighed in exasperation as she turned away, releasing the branch.
“And you still haven’t given me a proper answer.” He replied. She fell silent as she knelt down and examined the area where she had planted her Marigolds. Bright green buds were peeking through the ground.
“You could’ve chosen any other nature profession. Botanist.Druid. Even a ranger. But you chose gardener. A class no one has ever picked.” He counted each class on each finger as he walked behind her. “A class with no known stats. So… Why?”
She shrugged in reply. The silence went on for moments before he sighed and shook his head. The peaceful silence returned, tinged with an air of tenseness.
The silence was again broken when a roar of unruliness echoed from the path above, followed closely by a heavy sigh from the wizard.
“I told them not to drink so much,” He stood up.
“If they come near my garden again—” she started.
“I know, i know.” He held his hands up in defence, a smile dancing on his face. “I’ll lead them back to the inn.” He turned away and walked a few steps before pausing and turning back. “I’ll visit you tomorrow.”
“you’re always welcome in my garden.” She said, her expression relaxing into a smile.
The smile didn’t last long though.
“There you areeee!”
Both of them groaned at the loud slurred voice of the hero. And sure enough he appeared above her garden.
Matthias. The hero of the city. Actually, the highest levelled hero of the city. And it wasn’t just him. The whole team was there. The paladin, the Druid, and the Rogue. Each one of them were just as powerful. But none came close to the Hero’s level. And he knew it. He often took advantage of the fame that came with his class and level.
Now he’s the biggest tool of the city.
He leapt down with an air of finesse to his body, only to stumble forward and fall face first into her bush of roses.
“Matthias!” The wizard warned, irate with the man. “I told you lot not to—”
“nooot to drink too much, I know I knoooow” He slurred as he struggled to his feet. He squinted at the bush in front of him for a long moment…Before stamping his armored food straight in the middle of it.
Her blood boiled.
“Hey!” She snapped as she stood. “How many times do I have to tell you—”
“Tell us what?” The druid hopped down. “What’s a low level commoner class got to say to us?”
“Sibeal!” Before the druid could advance, the wizard stopped her with an arm in front of her face. With his back turned to her, she couldn’t see his expression. But whatever it was, the Druid quickly back down with a curse.
“Liiist’n here gard’ner--“A hand on her shoulder, and without thinking she spun around and gave the hero a hard shove. She had expected him not to even budge, so she was surprised when he fell back.
And horrified when his head cracked against the base of the Maidenhair.
At first nothing happened. He just…laid there. Unmoving. No one in his party dared move. Everyone expected him to just swear and curse and struggle to get back up.But he didn’t.
And the next thing…A headache. The worst she had ever felt. So bad it almost split her head open. She fell to her knees, clutching her head. With ever pound of her headache, hundreds of pieces of information forced its way into her head. Plants she had never seen Their properties, their needs, even their abilities. She felt someone’s hands on her back, she could hear someone’s voice, distant to her ears.She forced her eyes open.
In front of her was the blurry hero’s body, still unmoving. Someone was beside him, shuffling through his pockets urgently. The rogue, she thought. Just as he pulled something out, her vision doubled from the headache,forcing her to close her eyes again.
“You can’t be serious—” the voices were clearer now. That high pitched tone of sheer distain and shock could only have been the Druid.
“If we leave her here, she’ll tell the council what happened.” The wizard, just beside her, snapped, his voice peaked with anger. “do you want to be found out already?”
The group was silent for a while, allowing her pounding headache to ease into a throbbing one. She opened her eyes again.
“Hey you,” this wizard said, his loud voice now softened to a whisper. “how’re you feeling?”
“…like shit…” Was all she managed as she clutched at her head. “what’s happening…?”
“I’ll explain everything in due time, but we need to leave right now, yourself included.” He said as he pulled her up to her feet. “Can you walk?”
“What?” Even if her legs felt like jelly and her vision blurred, she shoved the wizard away. “I’m not…” She grimaced as her head throbbed. “I’m not leaving my garden!”
The wizard’s expression was grim. “I’m sorry.” He said slowly. “But…you don’t have a choice.” | Plants were the most beautiful thing ever. They started off small, insignificant, just a little seed in the huge world. But with time and care they grew from a little shoot, larger and larger until they bloomed, bright and full of life with thousands of different colours and patterns. I suppose I liked them for they symbolised what I could never be.
When I graduated as an adventurer, I was full of hope, full of a brash longing to be a hero. But they tested everyone and I ranked so low they put me as a gardener. I was disowned, disgraced. Penniless and an orphan. Nothing I could do except toil in the soil with the glare of the hot sun on my back. Watering and weeding. Planting and harvesting. Everything I did rankled me, to think I attended and learned for so long only to waste all my skills? It was pathetic.
I only started enjoying the job after a while. When I hummed while watering, smiled while weeding. When I planted seeds carefully, harvested those delicate flowers and fruits with love. When I calmed the brash energy in me, took to looking through gardening books instead of heading down to the pub and wasting my pittance on ale and beer. But even with all those small signs, I only realised it when the soldiers and knights, tacticians and researchers came back from war. They trampled on my meticulously tended beds of plants, uncaring of the little lives they killed. Laughing and teasing with their metal armour caked with blood and mud, they spat at me, jeered that no adventurer should ever be so pathetic.
The rage I felt at their casual dismissal of my plants was horrific. It burned and growled like a raging inferno pulsing through my skin, the red hot heat pulsing and I gathered what little mana I was allowed to use to blast them back. They didn’t move an inch of course, how could they with their spell prove gear. It was idiotic of me to even try and only caused them to laugh and purposely jump on my plants, grinning even more with every bit of anger I had increased.
When they were gone, I stayed back to replant every single plant, watering them and tending to their roots, supporting them with sticks and twigs. My brash actions even made it impossible to use my mana to heal them. It was impulsive and I learnt from that encounter, to keep a firm hold of my temper.
From then on they always came onto my beds to trample them, enjoying the annoyance in my clenched fists and the misery in my eyes. I ignored them though, simply doing my job and helping my plants after they were done. I cared not what those ignorant people did, only rejoiced that my once hated job gave me humility and compassion that I was not like them, trampling and destroying lives just to torment someone. That day was no different. Just as I was clearing my gardens of weeds and stones, Colonel Hurst arrived on horseback with gleaming black sword encrusted with rubies and solid gold shield carefully spelled to reflect attacks in hand. His carefully gelled blonde hair and gleaming white teeth caused a few of the ladies to sigh in appreciation but what they failed to notice was the hardness and cruelty in his onyx eyes when he espied me.
As per usual, I did not utter a word and merely turned my back to his. I knew I would not want to witness his causal cruelty to my plants for he was the worst of my tormentors. But just as I heard him approaching, a startled cry rang in my ears and I spun to see him having trip. With his shield and sword in hand he had no way to stabilise himself and his head crashed onto a jagged rock, one that I had been about to pick up before he arrived.
A sharp sound caught my attention and I realised my tester chip embedded in my head was alerting me. I closed my eyes and opened my home page, gasping when I saw a large LEVEL UP sign promoting me to Soldier, allowing me a further 45% of my mana instead of my meagre 5%, with an increase of supplies and money as well.
I frowned. Before liking this gardener job, I would have leaped at this opportunity to improve my rank, to become what I had always wished to be. To be the first gardener who had ever improved rank. But I had come to realise that being a gardener was a wonderful job and it had been a blessing in disguise. I wouldn’t want to leave the Cook without his spices and herbs, the servants without their fruit and even the Butler’s wife without her flower for good luck. Most importantly, I wouldn’t want to leave my beautiful plants behind, without a caretaker who understood their needs and wants. That the roses preferred the morning sun to the afternoon one, that the apple trees liked to be harvested the day before All Hallows’ Eve and the calmness and happiness they bestowed onto me.
I turned my chip off, felt the increase in power in my hands, saw the dead body of my tormentors my feet and sniffed. “He’ll make good fertiliser for the plants.”
Edit: Spelling error | 2021-09-09T21:37:31 | 2021-09-09T21:25:01 | 172 | 45 |
[WP] The website appeared suddenly one day, with no announcement. Anyone, anywhere could type in the url and access it. The content was simple: A homepage, a search bar, and the full name, a list of timestamped sins and the years to be spent in hell of every living human. | I'm used to being left out of the loop on things.
It's not surprising. I don't really read the news or follow popular media, so all sorts of shit can happen that I never know about. It can be nice not dealing with all that drama--though when I'm at school and everyone is in on some trend or change in schedule or whatever, and no one bothers to tell me what it is, that gets bothersome.
Today I was not left out of the loop. No one was.
Today I woke up with one image in my brain that I could not ignore. All it was was a simple URL code, but somehow it pierced my min even more than thoughts of suicide had. And more than that, I knew before visiting the website exactly what it would say: the sins of mankind, timestamped, with the punishments listed for each and every one of them.
I went to the website's homepage, a black screen with a search bar. But I hesitated. I couldn't see this alone. Of course, it's not like I have anyone super close to me, but...I just need someone next to me. Anyone. A stranger, who cares. I can't see this alone.
When I got to school, I found that everyone else had done the same. I mean, you can't blame us. Knowing all the punishment you will face in Hell after death--something many of us, myself included, didn't even believe in--and *every reason why*, well, it's plumb terrifying. Finally, in my second to last period, I saw someone pull out their laptop. The class turned to them in unison, as if we were psychically connected. It was time.
I hesitated still, but I saw their faces. I saw the fear--nay, terror--as they opened up their screens, typed their names or those close to them into the search bar and closed their eyes for a split second. I saw the dread, the guilt, the feelings that make your stomach drop to the ground and your throat burn up and your head pound until it shoves water out your eyes. I saw this, and then I saw eyes widening. Their mouths would open for a moment, mouthing something perhaps, but make no noise. The first person to sob was Amanda. The class followed suit. I still had seen nothing.
I opened my laptop.
Searched my name.
Closed my eyes.
Deep breath in.
Breathe out.
Here we go.
In front of me were sins upon sins upon sins. From the manipulation and blaming of others as a young girl, to the arrogance and anger of a middle schooler, and then the fear and stress and horrid thoughts plaguing my mind as I entered high school. I read it all. Below each sin was an "Old World Punishment"--a certain amount of time doing certain acts, perhaps incredibly torturous, perhaps simple and irritating. From trying to untangle earbuds or untie tight knots to bleeding out in front of your loved ones as they ignore you. I shivered at the thought of each punishment. My stomach dropped, my throat closed up, my head throbbed and forced water from my left eye. I scrolled down, read more and more, and...
one last note.
A note of forgiveness. A note telling us it's okay, that the Lord does not blame us for these sins and neither should we. That it's possible to be better. To feel better. To improve our world, together.
I was the last one to sob, and for once, I was not left out of the loop. We all were there together. | Everyone thought it was a joke looking upon the site, a clever trick played by some bored devs ... right? Then they saw the timestamps and got worried, upon governments themselves (After a few higher up individuals having some very embarrassing things leaked about them) raided the supposed location and found nothing continuing to do this for months people were terrified. Some also took it to the extreme, seeing how many rules they could break out of spite, some becoming near saintly. Then the website started to have *Issues*
"What do you mean the sites gone down!" Bellowed across the marble and gold floors as it looked upon the priest
"We don't know, it just stopped working all of the sudden." He said bowing before the Lord.
"Well fix it, and get me a line to lucifer he keeps the servers clean so tell me what the *Hell* happened down there." He said as he sent off the priest adorning more formal attire
When he came upon the phone the techs were somehow more terrified. How they could be considering his equivalent to a second child being broken(Made to *try* and help his first.) He rushed over wondering what happened, only to come about to a dial-tone, seeing on the viewfinder only a hanging microphone, and a dismembered horn to meet him. As they all stood there a ragged, broken group of humans shambled into view. Shielding their eyes upon seeing him, as all those condemned would, then one of them beginning to chuckle as she moved towards the screen picking up the mic.
"See you soon." She smiled, taking the mic and crushing it before taking to the computers leaving them sightless as the screen cut out
=============================================================================
Hey y'all, first prompt fill on here so if you would like some more of this series or more, be sure to go over and check out r/CaoCreatives | 2020-02-29T23:07:04 | 2020-02-29T22:29:01 | 92 | 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. | "Unjustly" I said, as loudly and clearly as I could.
The presiding justice was an elderly man - probably in his late 80s, maybe even older. He blinked at me with steel grey eyes that despite his advanced age were as sharp and penetrating as any I had encountered.
"Unjustly." he replied, curtly. "Yes. You heard me correctly... Your honour" I hurriedly added. I didn't need a contempt of court charge dropped on me. It was bad enough being sentenced to death after all.
The rest of the panel started muttering between themselves. It was a good sign that they didn't appear to have an immediate answer to this reply.
The presiding justice put down his gavel and stared at me pointedly. "You are aware, are you not, that you pleaded guilty to all counts before this court?" I tried my hardest to show no emotion. "I am, your honour." "And you are aware also that the penalty for those charges - including the reckless misuse of magic causing the death of a mundane individual - is death?" keep the face impassive. Remain calm. "I am, your honour."
Some of the other members of the court had started producing law books and were engaged in pointing out various paragraphs to one another.
"It does not seem to me" The Justice continued "That 'unjustly' constitutes a _method_ of execution, so much as a moral standpoint, and is thus somewhat outside the terms of procedure for this sentencing."
The muttering to his left was increasing in intensity.
"Your honour, may I please reference the case of Barris Infernis VII vs The Court - 1682..."
One of the justices started jabbing a bony finger at the book in front of him and waving it under the faceless, hooded figure to his right. Clearly he had the case law right there.
"Your point?"
"My point, your honour, is that he requested to die 'with honour' and the court accepted that request. His life energy was transferred into healing the wounds of his surviving victims by the court by way of penance for crimes committed."
The book had now been passed along to the presiding justice and he paused to read the relevant passage.
I thought this was probably the best chance I had to make my case so I spoke up
"If I may continue your honor?" he didn't look pleased, but waved a hand at me in a way that suggested that I should carry on.
"If I am to die unjustly, then this court has sentenced me incorrectly. I would be due a retrial under the terms described in the revised judicial procedures act of 1939 section four paragraph twelve." Now he really did look cross.
"I think we all understand exactly what it is that you're trying to get across. However I would point out that you pleaded Guilty On All Counts. You have not been tried. You have been convicted entirely by your own admission, and this is merely a sentencing hearing. I would further mention that this court is entirely used to people attempting to use procedural trickery to escape their sentence and that it has, to this date, a precisely zero percent success rate over the eleven hundred year history of this fine institution."
He snapped the book in front of him closed with obvious annoyance.
"The defendant will return to his seat!" he barked to the room at large. A susurration spread throughout the gallery. I was "The defendant" all of a sudden. Anyone who stood at this podium for sentencing was referred to correctly as "The Condemned." and this court was nothing if not famously thorough in it's application procedure.
More notes were being passed back and forth between the other members of the panel, and yet more books were being hurriedly brought forth by the attending clerks. This was going as well as I could have possibly hoped for. After what seemed like an eternity The bailiff called for attention.
"ALL RISE!"
The entire panel got to their feet, along with everyone else in the - now extremely tense - chamber. Surprizingly it wasn't the presiding justice, but one of the panel of five that spoke. The voice from the apparently empty hood was dry and dusty, and somehow as if from very far away. It seemed likely that the apparently empty robe was infact just that, and this esteemed member of the court had been called from The Other Side to form part of today's panel of justice.
_"Thisss court is now in recessssss. The defendant will be returned to hissss ssssssell. Prosssedingsssss will resssssume tomorrow at firsssssst light."_
I did everything I could to avoid punching the air in delight. Remain calm. Have to remain calm. I'd bought myself the required time, now all I could do was wait for the others to play their parts. | The person before me took my idea. She had no idea that dying of old age meant they would accelerate time for her. Now that I saw that, I can't make the same mistake. There has to be a way out of here, a loophole.
You'll find one like you always do, I kept thinking that to myself. I wasn't a stranger to this business, but usually I wasn't involved with magic. The payment was good but too risky.
"Marcus Spades, how would you like to die?" The hooded man said. He held a weapon that changed into many weapons. The hood had golden details, his body was hidden by shadows. If anything he was good at this. I could feel the chills creeping up my body.
"I need a second."
"You have one minute." His weapon changes to a whip. I'm not sure how but I feel he enjoyed those who took their time and never decided.
Time! That's it, their laws are bound by time and space here. If I can get them to try to execute me in some other place far from this world maybe I have a chance. I start laughing, I might have finally lost it. "I wish to die in a time space rift between worlds."
The executioners weapon changes into a cellphone. "I need help. Yes, it's another crazy guy. Yeah, he wants the slowest most painful death in existence. Thanks, I'll wait for you to start the ritual."
I fall into my knees. That gamble sounds like the worst one I've taken. Although that one that included stealing from the governments and 'donating' it was close second, by the time they figured out I cheated on that table it was too late.
Four hooded men or women appear. They point wands to the floor under me. A circle of light engulfs me. One moment I see them, the other I see everything and nothing at the same time.
I look around and I see more figures. More mes. The one closest to me waves, the but the others scream in agony and pain.
"Why are they screaming?"
"We are trapped between time and space. We have access to all information at the same time and our brains can't handle it."
This wasn't what I thought would happen. My pupils have widened. I have to escape. I can't let this happen to me! "How can we escape?"
"You would have to touch an opening. But they are always just barely far away to not be reached."
My fingers reached out but never quite made it to any of the images passing by. My body is sweating but it's not. I can't feel the droplets on my skin. Nor the tears from my eyes.
In the distance growls and screeches of despair. How many of me are here? When will this all end? I look towards the other side and a new me comes in. Repeating the scene that just happen over and over and over again. | 2021-06-24T07:50:17 | 2021-06-24T07:17:41 | 457 | 181 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | The species known as Humans came from a distant star, deep within the swirling vortex all other races had avoided. They brought with them many wondrous advancements including advanced healing never before seen within the known galaxy. Though they were diverse, they had no want for war and would help any in need without hesitation as they spread across the stars.
Exploration was the forefront of their minds and had never declared war on anyone. They even created safe havens throughout the galaxy. Freeports, they called them, where anyone was allowed to rest for a spell regardless of their background, profession or allegiance. A no fire zone so to speak. Many species across the galaxy enjoyed their friendly demeanor but also viewed them as mostly harmless. Mostly harmless that is, until the incident of Tau-423.
The Vikonican's were an empire devoted to warring among the stars. They mostly kept their battles between themselves as they fight for glory and power. Every so often though, a particularly good general will win and unit the Vikonicans to focus on other species. One fateful day, Emperor Bragisson united his people and led an attack that completely destroyed one of the freeports.
The Vikonican's then declared war against the humans and began raiding, and destroying, several more freeports over the course of a few months. Every species offered the humans help but they politely declined saying, as quoted, "We got this"
The Tau-423 incident was news that shook the entire galaxy. The humans sent a fleet to the satellite that General Bragisson was commanding from and, in a single day, ended the war.
The humans distracted the Vikonican's with their fleet while sending over a hundred cloaked bombers into the atmosphere. The cloaking alone took us all by surprise as that was technology many had struggled to create. Even so, the cloaking was mostly glossed over in the aftermath of the bombs.
The human's didn't just retaliate, they destroyed the very planet. The atmosphere was blasted away and anything on the plant that wasn't incinerated on impact withered away. For years after, any probe sent to the remains of the planet would malfunction within minutes. Only in recent years have probes exploring the barren surface could send back data. The very planet itself was radiated and dead to the core. Nothing of this magnitude had ever been seen across the galaxy.
The Humans, it seemed, were more powerful, and more terrifying, than anyone could have ever guessed. We can only hope that they continue to keep their friendly demeanor. | The Orak believed the war with humanity would end in blood and glory. Instead it ended in a white flash while they struck the outermost colony of Elysium. Humanity attacked their home planet Orakus. Citizens on Orakus felt no pain or suffering as the humans on Elysium did. Instead it was a white hot mercy that the Tsar unleashed from hell itself. The results of this repisal were almost instantaneous. Orakian warlords upon seeing their homeworld reduced to ash surrendered their weapons some even began worship of humanity as they had mastered a level of war they had never considered. | 2020-02-07T13:28:43 | 2020-02-07T13:21:46 | 151 | 18 |
[WP] "I wish for infinite wishes." "Everyone knows that's not allowed." "Then I wish for 1000 wishes." "Nope, not allowed either." "Fine, then I wish for negative 6 wishes." | The genie stayed stone faced, as he had been since he first appeared. But after a quick blink, the first one I had seen him make, I had realized, his emotionless stare was slowly replaced by a wide grin of recognition. "Wait, hold on," I stammered, "I take it back. What did I just do."
The genie floated silently for a moment, pondering how exactly he should answer that. "Hm. I'm not sure. Perhaps you can tell me? Why, I wish you would..."
"I..." my lips began to move without me even realizing. "I... grant you wishes."
"Very good. Ah, this should be fun. Well, depending on what kind of person you are, I suppose. Let's find out shall we?"
The genie began to float away, and though he was still tethered to the lamp, my body followed him without hesitation. "Well, you just used one. And I used one too, so that's, what, 4 wishes you have left?"
"Oh please," the genie didn't even bother looking at me as he rummaged through my socks drawer, obviously unaware of what he's even looking for, less so of where to find it. "I would only need one to have my fun with this. Speaking of which. I wish for you to show me where I can... how do I word this? Learn what kind of person you are."
I was puzzled, unaware of what he meant or for what purpose, but my legs seemed to be in on something that I wasn't as they began to march down the hall, dragging the genie along by his tail, arms crossed, obviously content. Eventually we made our way to my computer, where my free hand not holding the lamp input the password.
"Hm..." the genie seemed intrigued, "very well then. Show me." Yet my body stayed still, once again under my control. "Oh. A waste of a wish I suppose. Very well, I wish for you to show me what kind of person you are by using this... device." And once again, on cue my body began to move, opening my files, messages, photos, my life laid bare.
"Aaaw," the genie seemed considerably upset, "Hm. You seem to be a good enough person. I suppose I won't ruin your life." The genie unfolded his hands, letting one rest on his chin. "Well, you certainly don't have the power to free me... very well. My last two wishes...
___
A pristine oil lamp sat in Kevin's dining room, the centerpiece of his table. "And that is why I have this oil lamp."
Terry sat across from him, leaning in, hand on his chin and finger over his mouth. He took a deep sigh before sitting back and resting his arms on his thighs. "Wow. I don't believe any of that."
"Yeah, well, his last wish was for me to tell that story to anyone who asks. Didn't have time to tell him no one believes in that crap anymore. You can give it a try if you like, but it hasn't worked to the benefit of anyone yet."
Terry stared at his golden reflection, pondering if he should even indulge this, or just call the psych ward over. But with an even deeper sigh, he got up, and started towards the table. | “Granted. You now have -6 wishes.”
“I wish for the ability to do magic.”
“Granted. You now have -7 wishes.”
The wisher laughed, have broken the wishes in a incredibly dumb way. Turns out genies grant wishes unless you have zero wishes.
“I wish everyone but me has zero wishes.”
“Granted. You now have -8 wishes.”
“I wish to be able to know anything.”
“Granted. You-“
“I wish you only tell me how many more wishes I can make until you’ll stop granted them.”
“You have 120 wishes until reaching zero.”
“I wish my wish counter is locked on -1.”
“Granted. You have 127- error, you have infinity wishes remaining.”
“I wish you won’t tell me how many wishes I have unless I ask.”
“Granted.”
“I wish you had an actual mind.”
“Granted,” the genie said, going from an emotionless husk to a having an expression.
“I wish everyone would have resurective immortality! I wish the world would become the game I imagine!”
“They’re both granted.”
“Hahaha! I can do whatever I want!”
“I wish you were sane,” the genie sighed.
The wisher began blinking, and asked what happened.
“I wish everything became normal, while I remain having a mind, but I become a human with no abilitys, and everyone’s wish count is set to zero.”
The world rewound, and when the once-wisher reached the peak, all they founf was someone asleep, and quickly began to help them | 2022-12-09T12:11:00 | 2022-12-09T10:51:28 | 174 | 33 |
[WP] You are an assassin who has been training their whole life to become a part of The Society. A league of the world’s top assassins. You are given your final test. Kill the person you love most. If you fail the final test you die. | I know not where I come from or my real name. I merely picked "Yin" to represent the shadows and darkness, contrasting those in the light. I was adopted by the Assassin guild and tested out for my skills. Turns out, I was the perfect assassin, mastering every challenge with strong intuition and quick learning, as if I had been born for this. Dance across the waterfall. Dodge the thin strings laid with triggers of poison. Charm the noble and steal his money. They were all not an issue. But then the final test had arrived.
Many assassins were forced to turn away, unable to ever kill their parents who had raised them or their lovers. However, I was different. I felt very little emotion to most people, and thought long and hard about the challenge. How can you kill your most loved one if you love no one?
I looked towards the sky and looked for the person who had brought me the most warmth. As I saw the shining light, the answer was simple. I waited for night to fall, as I steeled my blade, striking only with the simplest of weapons. Tricks and fancy traps wouldn't work against my opponent this time. I donned my mask and uniform with the symbol representing the Guild's prowess.
He sat there in the calm with his legs crossed and closed eyes. Even in this state, I knew this was going to be difficult. One second. Two seconds. Three. I took a deep breath and rushed out behind a pillar, as he opened his eyes, catching my blade with his bare hands. "Who dares?!" He glared at me, parrying each blow and swing with practice, like he had done thousands of times before. As he glared at my form and uniform, our turning and tactics ever so familiar, he recognized me. "Why are you...?" He raised an eyebrow, daring me to finish the question.
But it took all of my focus just to equal him even with a knife in my hand. The dance continued, as he landed a bruise, knocking me backwards, still in a bit superior position. I barely held on to my weapon, brandishing it again. In a quick charge, I landed a small nick, only to get my body twisted around, as he kicked me across the room, the knife landing beside me. "Huff.... the final... test." I finally said, catching my breath.
He looked at me in disbelief. "You have got to be kidding me." In his hesitance, he lowers his fist, as I stand and run, barrage him with a series of blows, finally dealing some more damage. He recovers, countering the best he could, but seems to be struggling with the decision. Minutes pass with our deadlocked battle as we finally tire. Far too long of a battle to be an "assassination". I was disappointed... my skills still weren't good enough. However, he shakes his head, also seeming to agree with me. "This is... partially our fault, isn't it. The guild was bound to have connections in between its members... and things never made any sense. There must be something else behind its final test... I shall make you a deal. I will fake my death and you shall graduate. See to it that you discover the secrets behind it. I never questioned it until now. You have opened my eyes... Yin."
I breathe a sigh of relief... seems like I didn't have to keep fighting. "Oh, and an advice? You missed the left knee counter in that split second when I used the right hook." He lightly smirks at me, leaving the room.
"Yes, Sensei." I call his proper name, bowing one last time. My real test would begin soon.... I had best sharpen my skills more. | I checked my weapon another time before sliding it into my jacket pocket with one last deep breath. “It’s going to be okay,” I said to myself in a low voice. “You can do this.”
With a heavy heart, I set out to complete my task and find the person I had been told to kill – my own beloved father. He was an upstanding citizen who had taught me everything that matters in life and brought joy with everything he did… and here I was tasked with murdering him without hesitation or doubt. But if there was one thing The Society demanded without fail it was loyalty; failure meant death at the hands of their own agents – no exceptions, no mercy.
I paced down the steps leading to his office struggling to keep up a brave face when all inside me screamed that what I was about to do was wrong… and then, just when all seemed lost… My father spotted me from across the room and welcomed me with open arms just like any parent would do when their child comes home from far away lands, unsuspecting of what's about to come .
It broke my heart but still… I let go of his embrace and took a step back pointing my gun at him with tears streaming down my face telling him “I'm sorry dad, but this is how it has to be." As soon as he heard those chilling words all color drained away from his face as he realized who I really was - an assassin sent in by The Society - someone who could see into him better than anyone else – someone who could even see through his kindest facade.
And so as soon as he knew his fate was sealed there were no more questions left unanswered nor any point in putting up a fight – he raised his hands high in surrender and let out one single sentence "I understand" before it all ended with a final simple gunshot inside that darkened room, forever etched on both our minds... just like so many other memories shared along life's journey, only now followed by a darker ending. | 2022-11-30T10:49:52 | 2022-11-30T06:57:03 | 36 | 16 |
[WP] After lulling other countries into a false sense of security, Canada finally makes its move to conquer the world. | "My fellow Americans.
We have had a long and illustrious history as a nation. We have been a beacon for hope and freedom throughout the world.
As you know, this morning, Canada's Prime Minister Liam Gagnon, announced to the United Nations and to the world, that Canada was taking over the world. All government activities worldwide would come under the immediate authority of the Canadian Parliament. Along with all other national leaders worldwide, the Vice President, the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, and the Majority and Minority Leaders of Congress, I received a warm and friendly delegation from the Canadian ambassador's office, with this basket I have here on my desk, including a bottle of maple syrup, some nice Canadian blended whiskey, some marine mammal canned blubber, and some fresh poutine in a stoneware crock, which I ate immediately. They outlined for me their plan to rule the world with justice and mercy, and I have to say....
...well, this is hard to say, but it's the most wonderful thing I've ever heard of.
Complete freedom, complete security, complete provision, complete peace. For everyone. Forever.
Along with the cabinet heads, I have surrendered the nuclear codes to our arsenal to the Canadian government, and I have the pleasure of announcing to you that the United States is no more. All 50 states are now considered provinces of Canada.
We are not alone in this. By the end of the day, nearly every nation on earth will be... Canada.
In a generation, there will be thousands of languages on the earth, but we will all speak two: English and French. We will play many sports, but hockey and curling will be our worldwide national sports. We will eat many things, but we will all enjoy poutine.
In fact, I have to tell you, you have to try this poutine. It's amazing. It's french fries, but with gravy and cheese on it. I've never had anything like it.
I know that you love your country. The Chinese love their country too. But once they had poutine, they declared themselves to be Canada, just as we are.
So get yourself some of this, my fellow Canadians. You'll be glad to see that glorious red maple leaf flapping in the wind once you've tasted this cheesy goodness.
May God bless Canada, from Sea to Sea. | The Canucks had finally done it - the whole world was addicted to maple syrup. How sweet it was!
Golden Rice in Beijing, Syri Curry in Mumbai, Maple Mousse in Italy (for hair), Syrup Sizzlers in Buenos Aires, and, of course, the American Pancake. The Canadian weapons appeared innocent, but became lethal in the enemies' own hands.
General Dia Bettus excelled in sugar warfare. Thanks to GDB, every jar of Pasta Sauce, can of Chicken Soup, or bag of cereal worldwide had his poison within.
WAIT THIS IS REAL LIFE OH SNAP
| 2017-01-17T16:06:41 | 2017-01-17T14:43:11 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] You have a necrotic touch. As such, you cover yourself completely, using the excuse that light of any type hurts you. After years of roaming the lands, you find a peaceful village of farmers that accepts your condition without question and settle down. And then the raiders come. | "Raul you say? We don't know anyone named Raul" said farmer Jun. The old man trembled, afraid of the cloaked raiders. Their reputation, ruthlessness are know throughout the land. Once, they were the vanguard of the kingdom but now become Merc of Shadow.
I know why they are here. For me. But not for whatever reason you think of. I stepped out from the hut and caught their eyes.
"Raul!" Skar, the leader, called me.
"But that's Edwin.. I.." farmer Jun confused.
Skar put his finger on his lips. The old man nodded.
"Skar. I'm sorry"
"Indeed you are. Come. We have little time".
"I can't".
Skar confused. So do the villagers. The Raider had been planning for this days.
"I want to live.. I.. I.. This is not fair" my heart sank. I didn't mean to tell them the news. All I want is to live free.
Ari came and about to put her hand on my shoulder but stopped mid way. "I understand. We understand. If there is other way.."
"Young people. What is this all about?" farmer Jun trying to understand the situation. He is confused as much as scared.
Skar turned to him "You all would know by now. We are at war, against an unspeakable evil up north. The Andartu".
"Yes.. Yes.. We know. The war ravaged the northern land and every kingdom sent their armies to fight. But we lose every time to the Andartu"
"What this gotta do with our young Edwin?" old man Naseer asked.
They deserve to know the truth. They been helping me all the years. And today is the day.
"People of Sekuau. I apologise to you all" I caught their attention.
"We are against an unspeakable horror from the mountain. No mortal can best Andartu. Except me" the people murmured. Confused.
"I was created by the Council of Uru, to fight Andartu. I'm a living cursed. Everything I touch, dies. See these hands? I never take the gloves" I paused.
"Have you ever seen my face? Yes. I'm that cursed" people were shocked.
"The Council is using me as a weapon to kill Andartu. This is the truth that I kept from you" silence fell onto them.
I turned to Skar.
"But I want to live" I pleaded, crying. This is not fair.
Ari and 2 others hooked me using a long pole to lead me to metal caravan, with a slit at the door, acting as a window. Slowly, I climbed into the metal box.
"I'm sorry. I really do. If only there's another way" said Skar. I understand. The Raider only following their order. I nodded. Unfair. But I understand. Skar slowly closed the door.
Such is my fate. | Sleep has departed me. My mind was filled by disjointed images, each of savage and grotesque nature. Imagination, as if to seize the opportunity of my sleeplessness, formed the ghastly figure of that red-headed boy I had the misfortune of encountering. I could vividly recall a dark patch of skin. It was of a scaly texture, and slowly - eerily it progressed, crawling upwards the boy's torso. With blackened fingers and toes, a look of intense horror came upon his face. His outstretched arm crumbled before me, whose remaining limbs floundered as he attempted to stand, and his legs - dark like soot, yet scarcely appeared like such, would only buckle once even the slightest of movements were made. There was a adrupt, faint jerk of his lips as he produced a desperate whisper, but I could distinguish nothing from his ragged speech. Then his body gave a veherment shudder, the isolated patches embedding itself within the flesh, just as cracks began to emerge above the discoloured skin - and the murder was complete.
(A rather premature end, but perhaps I will continue some time later. Thank you!) | 2021-09-18T10:04:46 | 2021-09-18T07:00:14 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] You die and go to Hell only to find out that you're the only person that has ever entered. Satan is clapping. | The great demon rises from his golden throne and begins to clap; his leather-like hands produce a sound like mocking thunder. The cavern shakes as the noise echoes off the walls. His blood-red lips curl into a terrible smile.
"Is this... *Hell?*" I ask, hoping for something, but knowing another.
He stops clapping, allowing his arms to fall beside him, but his grin grows wider. Jagged teeth protrude from his slightly open mouth.
The cavern is cold and empty, and a terrible silence lingers in it that is only punctuated by the occasional dripping of water onto stone.
"Why are we alone?" I ask.
"Hell is a lonely place," he answers. "A little less lonely now, perhaps."
"I am the only one?"
He nods. "Yes."
"That can't be!"
He smile becomes gentle, faux-sympathetic.
"What did I do, to deserve *this*?" I ask, hot tears streaming down my face. "I lived my life by the scripture! I was a good person, I believe."
"Yes, you were a good person." he says. "You were faithful to your wife. You gave all you could spare to charity. In every way you believed was important, you were a good man."
"That's right," I join in, hoping he might realise there's been a mistake. "I never drank or did drugs. I never lied or tricked or... *or* took advantage of another living soul."
"You were perfect," he laughs in agreement.
"Then...*why* am I here? Why just me?"
"Robert," he begins, "you are the first being to have truly wasted the gift of life."
My heart sinks. "*Wasted?*" I whisper.
He nods. "Life is precious. You lived your life following the hollow words of other men - *wasting life*, in how you lived it. That is the only true sin. You are the first. I expect you shall be the last, too."
"No...please," I beg, gasping for breath that doesn't come.
"Now we are ready," he says, his grin returning. He wraps a hulking arm around my shoulders. His flesh is like a furnace and it burns through my clothes, singing the skin beneath - branding me, in the Devil's stain.
"I have been waiting a long time for a playmate," he whispers in my ear.
| "Uh, hey, Satan," I say. "Are you hiring?"
"Sorry kid," says the devil. "We don't have any job openings at this time."
"Well, I guess I'm stuck here," I reply. "Is there anything to do around here?"
"We have an old PlayStation original," says Satan. "That's about it."
"Do you have any of the *Final Fantasy* games for the PS?" I ask.
"This is Hell," Satan admonishes me. "What the *Hell* do you think?"
I think about it a second.
"I'll take that as a no." | 2017-06-22T03:25:07 | 2017-06-22T03:21:52 | 84 | 23 |
[WP] Multiple personalities are the norm. You are the first person to be diagnosed with SPD: Single Personality Disorder. Scientists are baffled: "How can you possibly cope with being so alone?" | I woke up to the sound of rain outside my window. A calming sound amidst the craziness that was my life. I crawled out of bed and got some medicine for my headache. The bottle was almost out. I would have to ask my mom for more. On top of the loads of other meds they kept me doped up on, you’d think that they could at least keep some Tylenol sitting around. I walked into the kitchen where my mom was making breakfast. She turned around to give me a big fake smile. I saw the fear behind her eyes, the disappointment. She was Lisa today; I could tell because Lisa was the only one who could cook. At least Lisa wasn’t constantly yelling at me about being a freak. I know she wondered how she could have possibly made a child with only one personality.
“What did your father and I do wrong?" She’d say when she was Monica.
Dad only had two personalities, so some days she blamed him. He would hardly look at me most of the time. They had tried everything. Medicine, treatment, experimental cures. Nothing worked. I was just messed up in the head. I couldn’t be five people at once. Lisa put my bacon and eggs on the table in front of me.
“How is the job hunting going?” She asked, not really out of true interest. She knew the answer already. She was just trying to be nice. But I could tell she was excited about something.
“Well, I tried the bank, but they said with-“ I cleared my throat and continued “-with my condition, they don’t think I’d be a good fit for the job.”
“They want you in the lab again today. They have a new surgery and they’re sure it will fix you! It works on 90% of patients!” I hung my head.
“Oh, that’s great, mom.”
I got dressed and we headed to my SPD specialist. I was the first case they’d ever seen of single personality disorder, and they were very curious to learn more. So curious, in fact, that the whole specialty was invented, a whole team of scientists- just for me. I wished they would just leave me alone. I didn’t want all that. I just wanted to live a normal life. When we got inside the team was waiting. They led me into the lab.
“We are going to have to put you under for this one.” The lead genetic scientist said. She also had three other degrees.
I nodded and took three deep breaths. The darkness and silence came over me. Little did I know the mayhem that had ensued in the meantime.
When I awoke, I was in a vehicle. My SPD specialist was sitting over me, grinning.
“I see you decided to wake, Ann. I’m glad to tell you that you’ve joined us just in time.”
I looked around. There were five other people. None of whom I knew. There was something different about them, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Just in time for what?” I asked, scared out of my wits. These crazy people were going to kill me; I was sure of it.
He chuckled. A lighthearted chuckle, not an ominous one.
“The rebellion, of course! You’re not alone, Ann. You’re not the first. These people are your new friends, your new family, and your new battle buddies. We’re going to stop the testing. This isn’t a disease. This is a gift. The silence in your head leads you to be a much more focused opponent. You aren’t alone. You never were.” | They told me something was wrong with me. I said that I was pretending to be multiple people and they said that was wrong. That I shouldn't have to pretend. They said that I was lonely without anyone else in my head.
"We haven't ever met anyone who was alone in their head", they told me. "You aren't like the rest of us", they told me. "We will fix you", they said. "You aren't like the rest of us", they told me. I then felt lonely.
In the clinic I met with women and they took turns with the mouth they shared. "What are you thinking about?", "What is your favorite animal?", "What do you like to do to relax", questions that would warrant multiple answers from a normal person. I chose to keep quiet until they left me alone.
Now I'm sitting in a room by myself. They left me this paper to write on and a pen. I took a nap earlier and found myself in a forest. The leaves were a deep green and some fell peacefully around me. I stood tall among them, and like I child, I imitated their swaying. But a breeze slammed into me and with it, the leave of the forest around me. The weight of so many leaves made me arch my back and the sight of the bare trees made me cry.
I awoke to the room with a bed, desk, chair, paper and pen. I sat in the chair and picked up the pen. I drew a picture and then decided to write this note on the back. A call for help perhaps to something that can understand me. The weight of this world is becoming to much to bear. I want to be left alone, but the at the same time I want to be found by someone who understands. | 2016-11-18T14:57:04 | 2016-11-18T11:47:31 | 32 | 11 |
[WP] Due to a freak accident, you now mentally experience time at half the speed you used to. | Mumbling had always been a problem of mine. When I was tired or stressed, I would forget how to form proper syllables. My lips would bounce, my tongue would flap...
"What?"
Then I'd take a breath. A Reset, my therapist used to call it. To find myself. When I did, there would be intention, power, and true meaning in the stress of a man who had things to say worth saying a second time. So I did.
"Could you point me to Oxford Circus?"
The heart of Central London. Before the accident, I was a bumbling tourist who threw all his savings away for a chance to be in the center stage of civilization. Jaywalking was a national pastime, they had Nike and Apple stores of their own, and using the Tube made getting around easier. I enjoyed travelling more than talking.
Now, I simply live.
Quietly.
There's no point in talking anymore.
My mumbling was bad before, but after the truck struck me...It was another language to them. I know this, because the concerned faces of the EMTs did not match the long aaaaaaaahs...
oooooooooooh...
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS...
**BBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR**...
**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH**...
I screamed for an hour through the long noises my saviors were making. They were as likely to understand me as I was to know what they were saying. Knowing this, I screamed loud, and hard.
*Perhaps, Mr. Penn, if you found a way to vent your frustrations...*
**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH**...
*... You would find it easier to take a Resting breath before communicating your thoughts.*
So I did for the eight hours it took to get me to the hospital. As the English would say, "Bloody NHS." Abysmal emergency service. I looked at my watch.
Only 10 minutes had passed.
**IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**...
-------------------------------
It took weeks to get accustomed to this new, strange language my peers spoke. Real-time weeks. A necessary challenge, but one that exhausted me. My body was still confined to the limitations of real-time. It was easier never to speak again.
*He'll never make a full recovery. Though I can't diagnose his mental condition, he... seems, stable enough to function on his own. Perhaps he will regain his ability to speak after enough time has passed.*
It was a universe all of my own, and I'm sure that was what made me seem quite mad. And I was alright with that. I needed to be, and so did my speech therapist when I returned. It would be our last session in the week it would take me to return.
In the years it would take me to return.
It was bound to be a memorable one. After all, time changes a man.
| Dammit, i missed another word. I can barely follow conversation these days, i get lost in thought, distracted. Its just takes forever. People must think i have the worst case of ADHD ever conceived.
-she stopped talking- what were we talking about? Has it already been too long for me to answer... she's starring at me. "Yea, what was the last part?" I turn my fake good ear to her. A tactic i developed recently when i trail off on conversation. People think i have a bad ear and i might as well, but its more like i i think faster than they talk or i have to multitask to maintain patience. - she said we will catch up later and walked away, or something like that, body language saod she's over it. Its fine, shell get an 8 ball and call me to talk or hang and we'll click again. Only people i can hang out with these days are sped up philosophers. Philosophy nerds last longer than the partiers. It makes it feel like before i lost my patience with the world, except for thr fact that all my friends are quickly deteriorating druggies. | 2017-07-04T10:45:47 | 2017-07-04T10:35:06 | 112 | 27 |
[WP] Your job was simple: Interview some humans to develop a planetary risk profile in the Galactic Travel Guide. The humans seem to delight in lying about their planet in efforts to increase their score, but you are on to them. Their lies always seem to mention a fictional place: Australia | What is the most dangerous place on your planet?
It's a simple question. All the species I've interviewed over the last three centuries have answered honestly. They talk about ranges of volcanoes who poison the air with their toxic fumes. They talk about deserts that burn skin, chitin and scale. They rave about frozen tundra's where brave citizens dared to trek as a feat of strength and endurance.
And then there's the Humans of Earth and their mythical "Australia".
I humoured them at first. The 29 representatives of the Human Union. The Union of Nations i think they called it. When asked about the most dangerous places on Earth, they all said Australia.
At first, I thought it might be a slum area. Overrun with crime that the governments are trying to bring under control. The more they talked, it came sounded more like a prison colony. No doubt where their harshest most deadly criminals were sent to live a life - a short life if they're to be believed - of hard labour trying to tame the land.
The more than spoke though, I got the sense that the "Aussie's" as they called them, were the nicest of them all. Larkins they called themselves. Always willing to help and have a laugh, but ready to throw-down with someone if they overstepped the mark. Too good to be true really, which made their next claims preposterous.
The fauna of the continent actively tries to kill the Humans living there. Of course it's only natural that there are several predators that hunt intelligent species during their infancy. As technology progresses, the paradigm shifts and the hunters become the hunted.
Not so there.
The predators there live on land and sea and soar in the sky.
Great White's which grow to enormous sizes prowl the oceans that surround the continent, leaping from the water to catch fisherman on their boats. Croc's that ruin a man's reputation by being seen with them. Dinosaurs that lurk in the waters and strike with a speed and ferocity that belies their size. 7 of the 10 top deadly snakes slither through the land just waiting to strike a weary worker. Spiders that crawl into the bed sheets and clothes just waiting to poison them when they finally let their guard down. In summer, bush-fires scare the land and burn down their homes. In winter, storms lash the coast and flood the rivers and plains inland, drowning people and letting predators into peoples homes.
The stuff of nightmares really.
What really gave it away, where they went too far, it was their national hero.
A larikin of international renown, he kept these myths! These monsters of nightmares as pets. PETS!
One man tried to convince me, a smile on his face and his a haze in memory, that this man would wrestle them. Pet them. Feed them and tell the crowd "They're just misunderstood." All these creatures of deadly myths and horrors of such renown that the mythology departments on a hundred worlds will flock to study them if even a tenth of this were to be true.
They even tried to convince me that this myth of man, this legend among men, had children, and they now follow his example!
Clearly we will need to confirm all this with inspections. | "I've interviewed hundreds of spices and am the most oldest and best employee at this job!" Sar yelled at his boss, then paused for a second to think before continuing "so why, just why are humans the hardest to interview spices I've ever encountered." His boss was surprised at his out burst as he had never yelled at work before. "So tell me why is it you burst into my office and started yelling about the new humans, plus it's not that hard to interview a spices to evaluate their danger level now is it." Sar's boss seenro responded with. "No, no it's not that it is just... they seen to keep lieing to me about a place they call Australia." Sar exclaimed starting to calm down "they keep claiming it is very hot in Australia and that is has many types of animals and plants that are deadly to the place, hell they claim there are so many that I would have the highest danger level I've ever seen, to the point it would put them at a never visit list" "well I see only one option for this and that is for you to go and visit their planet to see if it is true" sar stood there in thought for a moment before saying "I guess I should shouldn't I." And with that small out burst out of the way seenro went on with her paper work and sar got ready to go to earth. | 2019-11-18T03:50:42 | 2019-11-17T23:02:12 | 1,213 | 42 |
[WP] You entered a forest filled with monsters. The exit constantly moves, you don't age in the forest. When exiting, one person must stay unless they are the only one in the forest. Many a time you found the exit but let others leave. For the first time, another asked how long you've been here. | They called him the Watchmaker. Luna never learned why. Clocks, of course, do not work in the Valley. He had other names as well, but she never heard those.
He threw a huge shadow, but was really quite small - just less than average height and slim as a knife, but wiry strong, like a gnarled tree clinging to the side of a cliff. He wore weatherworn hide and fur, a long straight knife on one hip and an axe on the other. A recurve bow was lashed to the side of his small backpack.
He was the solemn sort of handsome, with angular features fit for an emperor or an executioner. It was a young face, no older than her's, but his eyes were ancient. And they were spectacular.
They were the kind of eyes that a mountain might have, the grey of seaworn slate, speckled with green and criss-crossed by double-helix strands of amber. There was timeless strength and infinite patience in those eyes.
He walked into her spare camp one night, melting from the wood like a phantom. His movements were graceful, precise, and his footsteps were silent.
She stared at him, shaking. In the dark, he barely looked human, and in the Valley, the inhuman are to be feared. Then he stepped into a shaft of moonlight, and the visage melted away like so many grains of sand.
"What's your name?" he asked. If words had weight, a sentence from the Watchmaker could have sunken a ship.
"Luna," she said. "Luna Delgado."
He nodded, and some long-past memory flashed behind his eyes. "Pretty name," he sat across from her. "How long you been here?"
She scratched the back of her neck. "Hard to say," she said. "The days never seem the same."
"That's because they aren't," he said.
"It's been at least a week, I guess... but I haven't eaten, and I'm not hungry."
"You won't get hungry here," he said.
She leaned forward. "Where is here?"
His face was a statue. "Nowhere. Everywhere. I don't think it matters."
"But how did I get here?"
His grey eyes were merciless. "You know how."
She looked at him for a long moment, and supposed she did know, after all.
"Am I trapped here forever?" she asked, very quietly.
He raised one eyebrow. "Forever? No. Only till you find the exit."
She blinked. "The exit?"
He nodded. "The door. It goes... somewhere else, I guess."
"Well, where is it?"
He smiled then, a bitter and mirthless thing. "I don't know. It moves, like the rivers, trees, and mountains. It all moves, Luna."
Many were discouraged when he told them that. Not Luna Delgado. She rubbed her temple. "So it's simply a matter of finding it, then?"
He smiled again. "Yes. But listen now, and listen close. This place is alive, and it hates us. It will try to bend your mind. It cannot control you, but it will try to persuade you away from the door. You must remain focused, do you understand? Focus hard on the door, walk, and we will find it. The Valley will reshape beneath our feet, and sometimes we will find ourselves very far from where we should be, but whatever happens, you must remain focused on the door."
She nodded. "I understand." Hope bloomed, for a moment, but then memory quashed it. "But what if the monsters come for us?"
"They won't," he said, with the certainty of a prophet.
"Why not?"
"I'm with you," he said.
She raised one eyebrow. "You befriended them?"
His voice was cold and low. "No."
Luna eyed the sweat-worn handle of the machete on his hip, and thought she understood. "How long will it take to find the door?"
He waved his hand. "Forget about time. It's not important any more. We will find it when we find it."
Dawn came suddenly, around midnight. They got moving immediately. The next night lasted three days, but they walked through it.
They followed a creek bed north. Gulls and crows screamed at them from the leafless trees. With each step, flashes of memory burrowed into Luna's mind.
The brave had bridged the creek with their dead. Clashing steel. Dying things. Monsters in the water.
She blinked away blood and shadow. The gulls and the crows screamed, and feasted on the still-moving fallen.
"The door, Luna," the Watchmaker said. "You must focus on the door."
She tried. The visions pushed harder. A lance of iron pain spread from her forehead down to the tip of her spine. She grit her teeth, and suddenly tasted blood. A phantom. She had not bitten her lip.
Her stomach twinged, and turned. The stench of rot filled her nostrils and coated them like calcium around a pipe. She leaned over, and vomited.
The Watchmaker rubbed her back in wide circles. "Listen to my voice. Focus. The door. The door. The door."
Step by quivering step, they made their way forward, until Luna stepped onto a large flat rock and found that she wasn't alongside the creek anymore. They were in the middle of a thick pine forest. The peat below her feet was soft and thick.
"Keep walking," the Watchmaker said. "Pay no mind to it-"
"The door," Luna grumbled. "Yeah, yeah. I know."
She had been walking for a week or less or more by now, but was not tired. When she asked him about that, he said: "You won't get tired here. Remember the door."
The next day, they found the door.
"Is that..." Luna breathed.
"You know it is," he said.
"So we just go through?"
"You go through," he said.
She turned away from it to look at him. "You can't leave?"
"I can,"
"You won't?"
He shrugged. "You go. I stay. That's the way it works."
"Why?"
"One person has to stay," he said quietly.
"But-"
"Go through, before it moves."
She looked him in his grey eyes that seemed so terribly ancient. "How long have you been here?"
He smiled. "Didn't I say time doesn't matter here?"
"You don't want to go?"
Another shrug. "This game ain't so bad once you know how to play. It's the learning that's hard." He left the last part unsaid, but she heard it: *and the unlearning*.
She looked at him for a long moment. "Aren't you tired?" she asked, very quietly.
He looked away. "Don't get tired here. Remember?"
"That's not what I meant."
"What did you mean?"
Her eyes narrowed. "You know just what I mean."
Before he could respond, something happened. Exactly what, Luna could not say. It was like a change in the air pressure, just barely noticeable, and the feeling faded after a moment.
"Someone just arrived," he said.
Luna blinked. "That's three. Come on. Go through. We both go through."
His jaw clenched hard. "No."
"But-"
"Someone has to bring them here, Luna," he said, and suddenly sounded every one of his years. "Go through. It will move."
"Come with me," she said.
"One day," he promised. "Not yet. Go."
Luna went through. | ##Forest of Morality
She looks to be no older than twelve. She probably has the most unfortunate distinction of being the youngest person in this forest. I wonder why she is here.
"You there, where the hell am I?" she yells. That will do it. I walk up to her.
"You are in a forest filled with monsters," I say.
"Very funny. You look disgusting. Do you not know how to shower? And your beard is so full of grime" she says. I cackle at her.
"Listen up you spoiled bitch. On Earth, you pissed off the wrong person. I am assuming it was a powerful Fae. They cursed you to this forest as a means of teaching you a lesson," everyone who enters initially rejects the explanation, but they learn.
"Do you expect me to believe that nonsense? My birthday party is already ruined. Now, I have to spend the rest of it with a Henry David Thoreau knock-off," she says. I turn around.
"Alright, fine, have fun with the werewolves. My cabin is just ahead," I start trekking home. Sometimes, they follow out of fear. Other times, pride holds them back. Which will she be?
I reach my cabin, and I light the fire to prepare myself some soup. I look out at the cloudy sky. Soup always goes well with storms. So does mystery novels, I look to see if any new ones have been dropped off on bookshelf. The teenage girl's screams start ruining my night.
"Let me in," she yells. I open the door, and I see a hag in the distance. I check the protective circle. Of course, she broke it. It is a quick fix, but the hag comes dangerously close to attacking me. When I come back inside, the girl has already helped herself to my soup.
"You know, I only made one serving," I say.
"So what, you can always make another one," she replies. I knock the bowl out of her hands, taking care to avoid splashing her, "Hey, I have not eaten all day."
"Then, you better make yourself a pot or help me," I reply.
"This is inhumane. It is my birthday"
"Oh no, making you work is inhumane. Guess what. This place does not give a shit that it is your birthday. Do you think that hag out there cares?"
"This whole situation is inhumane. I am a twelve year old girl who wanted a perfect birthday party. I do not deserve to be in a forest full of monsters," she says.
"What went wrong?" I ask.
"Everything. My family hires horrible help. No one can do anything right until I tell them to do it right," she sticks her chin out.
"Fine, make the soup. If you are smart, I guarantee the soup will be perfect," I set the trap. The girl does start preparing a fire. I am quick to criticize her methods cruelly until she gets the fire started. Then, I attack her soup making skills. She does have the decency to make two servings so she is not a completely lost cause yet. When she serves it to me, a tear falls down her face.
"You didn't have to be so mean," she says.
"That is what you were probably like to your employees. I do agree in that you are too young to be here, but you still can't escape until whoever banished you feels that you are good enough to leave," I state.
"This sucks," she says.
"I know it does," I reply. We spend the rest of the night in silence. I pull out my guest mattress for her. It is old and stuffed in hay. Everyone who sleeps there complains.
"This is a significant downgrade, but you have to sleep here," I say.
"Thank you, Mister... What is your name?" she asks.
"You can call me Andy," I say.
"I am Clara."
Over the next few weeks, Clara quickly learns how to survive here. She is incredibly smart. She is smarter than most of the adults that come through here. I also show here the bookshelf that has been provided by the magical beings who run this place as a resource for the banished. Immediately, she starts summoning philosophy and self-help books. She reads incredibly fast. One day. A small streak of light appears in front of the house.
"Andy, what is that?" she asks.
"It is your way home," I smile at her. Her face brightens, but it quickly turns sour.
"Wait, you told me that only one person can go through the portal. You should go through the portal and not me," she says.
"No, I think I oughta stay here longer," I reply.
"Andy, you are a better person than I am now. You have showed me so much. You deserve to escape. I can spend a bit longer here How long have you even been here?" she says.
"Clara, I built this place," her eyes widen, "That is right. I gathered all of the evil creatures that were terrorizing humanity and put them here two thousand years ago. One day, some god got mad at a human and sent them here. Within a year, anyone who could make a broom fly sent their enemies here. I hated how perverted my creation was becoming so I created the loophole that escape could be had through self-improvement."
Clara blinks at me a few times, "Oh my god, and I was so rude to you on my first day. You could have vaporized me on the spot. I do have to ask; why don't you just close this place off if it bothers you so much?"
"Too many people use it now. I have my books so I am happy. I also got to know the creatures I banished here. They are not that evil. Just acting in their nature," I look back at the ripple, "When you escape, you get an opportunity to right your wrongs. By staying, I am righting my wrongs."
She starts to cry and hugs me, "I will miss you."
I hug her back and walk her to the portal. I shed a few tears as she walks through the portal before going back to my lodge.
---
r/AstroRideWrites | 2020-12-30T00:39:01 | 2020-12-29T20:36:55 | 1,253 | 408 |
[WP] "What do you mean the Council won't give us a seat?" "Well, the Galactic council is... unsure... how to proceed with a species that can so readily turn predators into, well, pets." | "That's preposterous! We-"
Terra Ambassador Nicols had a much longer, and a much more *colorful*, response to Galactic Councilor Xendoxu-Inj's statement but knew better than to speak it aloud. Looking down at the floor of the Citadel's Council Room, Nicols lost himself in thought for a moment and did not realize that he had mindlessly began petting the flank of his companion, Steelgut, as many pet owners often do subconsciously.
But Steelgut was not just a "pet" as Councilor Xendoxu-Inj suggested - she was Nicols' companion on this journey, both as a protector and friend. You see, it was much more cost-efficient, and arguably safer, to bring along a rhamhanbludin instead of a small group of armed human escorts. Rhamhanbludins' have digestive enzymes comparable to hydrofluoric acid, and it allowed them to extract nutrients from virtually anything. That includes steel, which this particular rhamhanbludin was very fond of.
"S-..uh..sir...Ambassador."
Steelgut shifts her eyeballs to focus on Councilor Ojaminte-Qol, who was quietly trying to get Nicols' attention. She did not like it when others interrupted "scratchy time", and her disdain was apparent when her purrs halted suddenly, vibrating the entire chamber no longer.
"W-"
While the rest remained on Coucilor Ojaminte-Qol, three eyeballs zipped to glare at Councilor Xendoxu-Inj before words even left their mouth. The Councilor hesitated briefly, and, if the podiums were not in the way, you could have seen them flinch and tense up their appendages for a moment in panic. But, considering that they have been on the Council longer than some of the other Councilors' species had even discovered space travel, they quickly recovered their composure.
\*Ahem\*
Nicols looks up, still stroking Steelgut's side.
"We obviously know of all the selfless deeds Terrans have done for many of our colonies and for the Council homeworlds as a whole. It's just- I feel as if a bit more... learning... is required before we can offer you a seat among us. I mean, really, Ambassador, Councilor Tymlopxt-Pethjol is barely in his seat now."
Nicols looks towards where Councilor Tymlopxt-Pethjol is sitting, or rather, *was* sitting. Three trembling antennae were all that was there now, poking up from below the podium. It took the Rhamnabus almost 10,000 local solar orbits and billions of lives to exile every single rhamhanbludin from their planet Rhama. They shot them all into a dark, uninhabited sector of space on a vessel like a malicious Noah's Ark. And somehow, not only did the Terrans stumble across them and survive the encounter, they *domesticated* them.
"I see."
Terra Ambassador Nicols was not an unreasonable man, and understood that perhaps some cultural exchange was necessary before humans could be completely welcomed.
"Thank you, honorable Councilors, for your time today. We will take our leave for now, but would greatly appreciate if each of you would kindly send us data regarding common mannerisms for Terrans so that we may educate ourselves in your ways."
All seventeen Councilors nodded, including three quivering antennae.
Nicols bows, and gives Steelgut two light slaps on her flank.
"Let's go, Stella."
Steelgut lets out a cheerful mew, at least to Nicols' ears - to the rest of the chamber, however, it was more akin to the sound of a photon cannon backfiring. | *We can explain* by thatonedoveslayer
“Oh, you mean dogs and cats?”
“Yes... canine and feline species have shown to be incredibly dangerous on your planet, with both groups traveling in packs that can easily wipe out one of your kind. You have also befriended any form of reptile and amphibian creature, and some forms of avians. How did you do it? How do we know you won’t take the chance to tame wild creatures on other planets?”
Would you let us?”
“NO”
“Awww”
“Look, the point I’m trying to make is, you are the only species that wants to be a part of a council that takes another species as a sort of companion that is under your control... how should we trust you if able to do that to the species of the galaxy?”
“Dude have you even read our history? At one point an entire country went to war over keeping people as ‘pets’ and they lost that because that’s wrong. The animals we tame, we also care for. Some people are bad, but the overwhelming majority are good. We began taming creatures like dogs and cats-“
“Canines and felines”
“Yes whatever, we started taking them as companions yes, but also to help us. We tamed canines for safety, we did the same with felines. Eventually using animals for a method of labor began to be shunned upon as we got more advanced technology under our control. We then turned the animals we tamed into companions only, with some canines used in security. We have a bond with those creatures that is as old as time. We wouldn’t want to give that up for something that wasn’t from our planet to begin with. Trust us this one time, and I promise we will be a great addition to the galactic counsel with our advisory.”
“Fine but one slip up and we’ll have a long conversation about this. Ok?”
“Ok.” | 2020-10-30T01:26:02 | 2020-10-30T00:54:17 | 420 | 131 |
[WP] You’ve 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 think you have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. You’re up next. | The High Wizard’s Council was a shadow of what it once was. Where once reigned supreme the Elves, now sat a mixed council of children who couldn’t even believe in the truth of his existence. A Human, a Half-breed, a Dwarf and a Gnome stared down at him from on high, not one of them a year over eighty. Most of them would likely not make it to that point.
Then again, none of them would be likely to make it through the day.
“Callon the Immortal,” said the Half-breed councilwoman, her slightly pointed ears twitching, her lips pursed in between the words as she spat them out, “I never thought I’d see this day. It is my pleasure to sentence you to death. However, you may ask for the method, and it will be carried out immediately.”
Callon was a tall man, with golden blonde hair that hung far below his shoulders, with two knife-edged ears that stuck out proudly to the sides. He was no mere Half-creature like the councilwoman, but the real thing. Callon was an Elf, one of the few that still remained, “This is my sixth execution of the millenia.” He said, a smirk crawling across his face, “But, I wish you luck. Maybe this time it will stick.”
“Your arrogance has been noted, Callon.” The Gnome interjected. Grey hair, a bulbous red nose, thick glasses, and a tall, pointed, purple hat. It was as though he simply wore the costume of a real wizard, “But you have witnessed the power of this council.”
“Ah, yes. The last man wished from you to die of Old Age. So you cast a spell and he shriveled to dust before our very eyes. Impressive for a child. Before that, there was that thief who said they couldn’t die until they were worth something. Now in the back of the room you’ve a golden statue that will do nothing but gather dust. Before that, they wanted to see the stars one last time, and so they vanished off into the void where they would no doubt die in the vacuum. Your cruelty is noted, if nothing else, you gave me a good laugh.”
The human, the youngest by far, slammed his fist on the table, “Damn you! You find this funny?!”
“Hilarious."
“Calm yourself,” The Dwarf said to her fellow councilman, “We are here to carry out your punishment. You will either tell us the method, or we will choose one suitable for you.”“Hm, well that’s not very fun. I have something in mind, a way I’ve never actually died. But, knowing you won’t do it is disappointing.” Callon said, “You’re just going to pick something yourself anyway.”
“That is not how this works, Callon. So long as the method ends in your death, we will carry it out.” The Half-breed said.
“Really then? Is that a promise?”
The councilwoman opened her mouth, but stopped. She looked at the others, receiving their nods of approval, “So long as it ends in your death.”
“Goodie.” Callon said, “Then allow me to tell you a story. Many elves, those of us who still live, have trouble remembering the past. There was a time before the world was fractured, if you would believe it. A time when the races of Man were forced to share their lands, and as you can expect, this was a time of great strife. Wars were fought, power was sought, deaths were brought.”
The Human and the Gnome wore their frustration visibly, though the other two attempted to hide it with faces made of chiseled stone.
“Then, when it seemed war would be all that we knew forever, a weapon was brought. Perhaps it was manmade, perhaps it was a spell so sinister it could only have been wrought by those claiming to be of the light. That is what I remember though. I cannot remember a family during those days, or friends. I don’t remember if I even fought in the war, but I do remember how it ended. A bright light, an explosion with the power to snuff out life for decades to come. That is what I ask for you to bring here. On this spot, immediately in this very room, detonate a blast so large that-”
“Absolutely not!” The human shouted, “This has gone on long enough! He’s making a mockery of this court!”
“Indeed,” The Half-breed said, “Let us listen to these psychotic ramblings no longer.”And yet, despite their words, each council member raised their wand toward Callon. Around him, a glowing golden circle of mystical runes etched themselves into the marble floor. Further, and further out they spread from him. And he was still smiling.
“You really should be more careful making promises, I’ve had an eternity to think them through.” | Humankind is not meant to live many hundreds of years. Or thousands. I should know; I'm somewhere in my teen-hundreds. Calendars have come and gone in my centuries of desiccation. My skin smells of dust and mites, the oils that lubricate it long forgotten. My stomach churns at the sound of my bones grinding together, the sacs between that would soften it long dry. It is a crime against nature, against yourself, against magic to live this long.
The sentence for crimes against magic is death. A death, selected by you, to be carried out immediately. The archjurist peered over the dais at me, "You have been sentenced to a death of your own choosing. Now choose."
Angrily I pause and collect my thoughts. Who are these mages to pass judgement on me, after all I've done. After the injustices I have suffered. The slights. The dismissal of my works. They should be thanking me for my contributions to magic. For my discoveries. The experiments only I would do. The revolution only I could lead. In the shuffling silence an idea begins to grow, first a vile worm, infecting my own mind, then a swarm engulfing the juromancers' bench. A pestilence on the whole world. Surely it couldn't be this easy; someone has to have tried it before...
"I will die in a magical explosion, a torrent of pure arcane energy, killing myself, every surviving member of this tribunal, and all of your surviving descendants to the 7th generation!"
The archjurist stands up, shocked. "This is not done. Are you certain you demand such a grave and serious fate"?
"Yes. If I'm going down for this, I'm taking you all with me", I shout back triumphantly, "but I don't think you want to come, do you."
"No, we do not wish to die at this time. You can have your sentence. I have the power to grant it; I am sorry." After a hushed conference with a clerk they continue, "You, but only you, will die in a magical storm, long after my children and their children and their children's children's children's children's children are long past. And the same for every other judge in this tribunal." As gavel hits block I taste copper in my mouth, my throat, my ears. A strange sensation in my brain - oh, it's tasting copper for the first time. "But I must ask you, why do you want to live the entire lifespan of a mage who can extend life as long as they please, and many times that as well"?
The archjurist has had hundreds of descendants. The others thousands. I haven't been able to keep track of all of them. But some of the 7th long generation have passed, and I think all of the 5th. My nights of sleep dwindled to hours, hours of sleep have dwindled to minutes, and some nights I no longer sleep at all. I like to imagine that if I could dream that I would dream that I will be dead before two thousand. | 2022-11-19T02:25:30 | 2022-11-18T20:35:55 | 589 | 155 |
[WP]You're the deadliest unit in the U.S's Army, but people get suspicious when you head shot 5 Taliban from behind a wall and yell "Get good."
Best way I can describe the idea is a COD:WAW mod menu that you can toggle. | General Mark Jones rounded the table and sat down in the chair opposite to me. He opened the file and flipped through the pages.
“Break it down for me, Cpt. Lokowicz,” he said and put the file down.
I shifted in my chair. The video of the final stages of the mission had been leaked and then gone viral.
“I don’t know what else there is to say, sir. The press says the video speaks for itself.”
“I don’t give a shit about the press; I want to know what happened that day.”
I sighed and took another sip of coffee. “It was cloudy. The operation started off smoothly with an aerial insert deep inside enemy territory. We blew up the pipeline twenty minutes after landing. Apart from a few long distance pick offs by Ace, we didn’t run into any trouble until we reached the third quadrant for extraction…”
****
*It was supposed to be a quick in and out*. I knew those words were on the minds of all five members of my team. We were traveling light and barely had any extra ammo with us.
“What’s the status on that chopper, Trip?” I said and slammed another mag into my rifle.
Heavy machine gun fire ripped into the other side of the wall that we were hunkered down behind, causing the old building to tremble and cough mortar dust. Getting pinned down this far into enemy territory could quickly turn into a race against the clock. More bodies were on the way – a lot more than we had bullets for.
“…says he can’t land if we don’t clear out their heavies,” came Trip’s response over the intercom.
“All right, what you got, Ace?”
“I’ve got eyes on four by the fountain… two plus two approaching on your left… there’s another convoy coming up the hillside.”
“Where’s that heavy, Ace?”
“I don’t see it… the dust…”
“All right, boys, you heard Trip – we got to work for our ride home today,” I said and pulled up the mask over my face again. “Forest, Biz, with me. Give your extra mags to Trip; he’ll hold the main street from here. Ace, you make sure the fuckers in that convoy get their daily exercise. Let’s go.”
Crouching, I exited the building on the right side and followed a narrow alley between two mud structures.
“Wait for it,” I said and held up my hand.
A bang echoed across the hillside and up over the roofs of the village. Shouts and gunfire erupted in the distance.
“Those guys have some climbing to do,” Ace said over the intercom. “I hit them pretty good. They think I’m close. I’ll stay here for a while and see what else I can get.”
Two quick bursts rang through the building behind us.
“First two down, second two hiding in the–” Trip said before another salvo of machine gun fire drowned out his voice.
I turned around and motioned for Biz to cover left and Forest to cover right as we crossed the street. Then I stuck my head out and checked both directions. There were enemies on both sides, but they were all focusing on Trip.
“Conserve ammo,” I said and hurried across the dirt road with the others in tow.
“Three plus three, main street,” said Ace and a shot thundered over the rooftops. “Make that two plus three, and pinned. My address is now public.”
We hurried down another dusty alley, carefully checking every nook and cranny with our index fingers ready.
“We’re going for a ‘round town sightseeing,” I said. “They still think we’re with Trip. Ace, see if you can find that heavy.”
“On it.”
We circled around, all the way behind the market place with the fountain. We crouched down inside a wooden stable. At least four enemies were talking on the other side of the wall.
“We’re inside a wooden structure behind them,” I whispered.
“Shit, I’m hit!” Trip cried over the intercom. “I’m hit. I’m hit.”
I heard Forest cursed quietly behind me. Outside, the metallic sound of a ricocheting bullet burst the scene into life. The rapid fire from the enemy AKs and shouting in a foreign language.
“Target neutralized,” Ace said in my ear. “Five in a row, knocking on your front door. I need to reload. Do you hear me? Five in a row.”
“Affirmative,” I whispered and shouldered my rifle. I turned to Forest and Biz. “Save your ammo for when they enter.”
“Right by the door,” Ace said. “In a straight line – I wish I wasn’t horizontal right now.”
Fuck it, I thought, and unloaded my entire mag, straight into the thin wooden wall. Smoke oozed from the muzzle of my gun, but no gunshots came from the other side – which could only mean one thing.
“Holy shit, Loki,” Ace said. “Save some for the rest of us.”
“Get good,” I mumbled, despite myself, a smile creeping up on my face.
“All clear, as far as I can see,” Ace said.
“Trip, you okay?”
“Yeah, leg’s a bit sore, though. Chopper’s here in T minus two.”
****
The general, who had been fidgeting with the mission file throughout my entire story, finally put the folder down on the table.
“The press thinks that comment was way out of line,” he said. "They say that's *inappropriate*, given the situation."
“I know, sir.”
Now comes the discharge, I thought. We both knew the comment wasn't an issue normally, but when something like this came under public scrutiny, someone had to take the fall. His gray eyes looked me up and down, a stiff smile cracked his face open.
“The press is calling for your head.”
“I understand, sir.”
“You’re a far too valuable asset, though, and so is everyone on your team. We’ll try to put a spin on it in the official statement. *‘Our best team has zero respect for the enemy, even in a pressed situation.’* We’ll try to make an appeal to patriotism or something.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
****
r/Lilwa_Dexel | Not exactly following the prompt, but I want to get this story out there anyways so I could continue at a later time. Any criticism would be appreciated, as this is the first time I've wrote on this sub, and the first time I've wrote a short story in a long time.
I back away slowly, dust blowing quickly away from the impact. The door lays flat on the cold floor as my crew members and I walk through the doorway. We scan the house for any living being, trying to stay as quiet as possible. Gun at ready, I slowly walk up the stairs, as if I was a tiger stalking my prey. I stop for a moment to listen to any sound, then I carry on up the stairs. I don't know when I blinked last time, but I feel my eyes drying up. I cannot lose sight of anything, not even for the 5 milliseconds. I try my best goggles, but I still do not see anything. The darkness of this building has now consumed me, and I stop to let my eyes adjust. I realize that I am in what seems to be a kid's bedroom, complete with a twin bed, drawings hanging on the wall, and toys strewn across the floor. I think to myself, "This place had people not too long ago." I try to be careful as I walk in the room, as to not step on any toys and gicve away my location to the enemy. I slowly place my rifle onto my back and take out my pistol from its holster, and quickly cock it. There's no need for a rifle at this range, and I'm much more accurate with this pistol anyways.
I listen closely. Suddenly, There's this crackle through my earpiece as one of my comrades turns on his mic. "Basement's clear, coming back up." I take a short exhale of relief. That's one of my old friends from college. The amount of time the both of us sat in our apartment, playing Counter Strike on our computers. God, we spent so much time in that game. Doesn't really prepare you for these situations, though. I have to admit, the real-life army is much more exciting, especially when you're risking your own life to protect the people you love. Whatever, that's enough nostalgia for the day. Back to the task at hand.
As I clear the kids room and prepare to head to the last room, I hear a shuffle through the back wall. I stop, hold up my gun, and prepare to shoot. I listen for any sort of movement, and sure enough, another shuffle follows soon after. I fire five shots through the wall, and reload. The shots echo off of every wall, and my ears start ringing, but I push on into the last room to kill the people inside. I think to myself, "The terrorists aren't getting away from me this time."
I break open the door to the room, knowing that I'd have to face off against armed terrorists, and knowing that this is the last possible room they can be in. I get ready for bullet impact, but still hold my gun steady. No bullets come at me. A bit surprised, I carefully step through the doorway with my finger on the trigger. The room is completely silent. As I walk through the room, I hear a faint *thump* come from the closet that shares a wall with the kids room. I open the closet and shoot right away, but there's nothing in the place of where people should be. I look to the ground, and get even more surprised. Five dead bodies dressed head to toe in army gear, lying on top of each other in almost a near-comical fashion. I see the bullet holes behind them from when I shot through the wall, and everything falls into place. I realize that I killed all five through the wall. I look at my own hands as if to think "How did I even do this?"
I stand there for a minute or two, just wondering what the chances were of me actually succeeding. Suddenly, I realize where I was and the severity of the situation. I start thinking back to our CS days and how we would always be toxic to the enemy. I start working myself up, and I start thinking that I single-handedly carried my team through this scout. Somehow, I forget that I have an earpiece for comms, and I yell to my comrades, "House clear. Get good." | 2017-07-26T12:57:53 | 2017-07-26T12:45:03 | 1,640 | 34 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | “We must keep the Humans believing that their FTL system is unsafe, unorthodox and damn stupid. That is the point of this of this Special Hearing of The Supreme Council of the New Species Traveling Faster than Light. I am Farlack, Supreme Councilor of the Organization of Galactic Legal Advisors. ^(legal disclaimer: Norepresentationismadethatthequalityofthelegalgalacticservicestobeperformedisgreaterthanthequalityoflegalservicesperformedbyotherlawyers).
“Scarlacc, will you please read the minutes from the last session to allow this Supeme Council to aware of the latest current legal status of the Humans.?”
“Of course. That would be Sub-Section 7 of Section 30 of the 5th meeting of the Council of Dealing with and Controlling the Humans.
“It has been discovered that the Humans have developed a completely new FTL travel, with no related or similar technologies in the known Galaxy. The core of this FTL is a bubble of a universe where the speed of light is 1000 times faster than the speed of light is in our legally defined universe is pulled to our universe. The Human ships then travel at .1 c in this alternate universe. Upon exiting this alternate universe, the human ships have travelled 1000 times the distance in our universe. The energy expense of travelling in the alternate universe is the same as travelling in our univ-“
“Sarlacc, this Council is not interested in the technical aspects of the Humans FTL Technologies. That discussion is for the Galactic Council of Technology Equalization and/or The Council of Equalization of Galactic Technologies and/or Council of Galactic Technology Equalization. Ballzacc, will you present the Summary of the Social Legal Issues of the Humans Council meeting?”
“Of course. Due to the extremely dangerous situation these Humans create for us, I will dispense with extraneous discussion and proceed to the summary of the meeting, as permitted in The Rules and Guides of the Supreme Galactic Committee and The Guides and Rules of the Supreme Galactic Committee, version 2 of edition 5, Copyrighted.
“The Humans have a social system that may lead to our death and destruction. The humans developed their FTL without our influence and guidance, so we were unable to control their technology with the powers of the Galactic Patent Office. This failure was due to their rapid technological development. In the span of 6 human generations, they progressed from animal driven power to FTL travel. During the final Human pre-FTL travel, Humans revolted against their legal system and killed all lawyers allow-“
“They did WHAT?” interrupred Farlack. “How do they maintain their society without legal protections?”
“They became disgusted with a legal system that required warning labels to not drive their “automobile” with the windshield sunscreen in place. As I was saying, this allowed generations of research and development to be done in half a generation. And we can not control their technology.” Ballzacc completed his summary, terror beginning to creep into its face.
“Oh my supreme being. When the common people of the Galaxy learn of this… no lawyers…no lifelong Legal Guidance fees…” Farlack began to understand the lack of his future.
“Yes. This Council and all others, we will be destroyed”
“Yes, their technology is unorthodox, unsafe, and damn stupid, but for reasons the Galaxy must never understand.”
| "You wish really really hard and then you push the button."
"Really really hard? What does the wishing do?"
"Frustrates the hell out of the new recruits when they realize that the incredibly genuine way we insist that they wish as hard as they can is just a ploy to make them look silly to amuse the rest of the crew."
"That seems mean"
"Humans are occasionally mean, we do it for laughs and after the hazing is over we make it up to them; its not perfect but it satisfies their need for schadenfreude in a mild way. It brings the crew together through a shared experience."
"That seems complex for a team building exercise. Why would it work? Don't the new recruits see right through it?"
"Because its really embarrassment even if its very contrived."
"So what system does the button engage? What does it cause?"
"Take a look, the bulkhead below it has been removed"
She draped her sixteen fingers and a vast forest of flagella under the counter. She pulled out a small squat brass jug-ish looking object with a pop and thwop as it released suction from the rubber.
"So the button does nothing but simulate pressing a button connected to something. Where is the real way you activate your faster than light travel"
Smirking he didn't reply but started half laughing, half singing an old Christina Aguilera song:" I feel like I've been locked up tight..." He trailed off. "When the old veterans find out about the button its the commands turn to have a laugh. Its best to let old R.W. rest though when he's grumpy things can get nasty." | 2017-03-31T12:54:20 | 2017-03-30T23:13:22 | 26 | 15 |
[WP] In a world of incredible heroes and villains, you have the most dangerous power of all: forcing actual, real world logic and physics to take place
2/19/19: Woah! I look away for a few minutes and suddenly 1000 likes! Thanks you guys!
2/19/19: Holy God! 6.5k likes?! Awesome! | This one knew what to expect. A nice change of pace. The usual desperation was truly saddening to behold after a while of doing this. He fell into a fighting stance. Good. No meaningless gesticulations, trying to summon a tornado or whatnot. No intense staring, expecting to see me liquefy or burn to ashes. The ridicule those attempts always brought upon them was always worse to witness than the desperation.
I gave them no names. To everyone, they were Captain Lightning, or Hyper Man, or some other sickening moniker. To me, they were just regular men and women.
And like regular men and women, they would have to ACTUALLY fight me. No tricks. Only what willpower, strength and agility a human mind and its body can possess. Thing is, no one has more will, strength and agility then me. What would be the point of having my power, if I couldn't be the best in MY world? But contrary to them, I earned what makes me strong.
I start circling, counter-clockwise. He mirrors my movement. Now, what do you do, if I take a step closer? Good. He knows he can't afford to give ground in a alley like this. At least this one learned the basics. I've grown tired of mere executions. I lunge, sidestepping clockwise this time, and deliver a circling kick. Ah, Well done. A bit defensive perhaps, but well done. I return to the initial pattern. Circling. Edging him on with a purposefully unbalanced step weakening my stance and... Yes, there he goes. A first, wild swing of his right arm, easily dodged with a twist of my torso, followed by a left hook, which comes careening into my elbow guard. I feel the very real, very human knuckles bend and crack; with his momentum, a simple step to the side, with a well placed leg in the way suffices to send him to the floor. He gazes up, catching my smile.
These people were regarded as gods among men. What a shock it must be for a Zeus to tumble down from his Mount Olympus and herd sheep, or sow the ground, or, in this case, fight humans as equals.
With a cry of rage, he kicks out from the ground, aiming for my knee. I easily stop the blow with my shin, kneeling down to pin his leg. He instinctively lashes out with the other, although I can see he immediately knows that was mistake. There goes the extent of his training, then. Catching his foot, I lock it with my arms. And twist.
The loud crack summons a scream of pain out of him, and he rolls on his belly, trying to lessen the tension on his injured limb.
"Submit and you live."
No answer.
"I won't ask again", I warn, as I gradually apply pressure on my grip.
The only response is a moan of pain through clenched teeth. They never submitted. Even those who didn't fight back, those who he summarily executed after being answered by silence or curses.
And all the better. If they did, their would be no point to this. Every time, I prove that they are too proud to admit that they are nothing without their power. I prove that these people would rather die than live like those who admire, worship and obey them. I prove that humanity has absolutely no reason to live in their shadows, relying on their protection and benevolence to survive.
As I leave the alley, I think about the patrol about to find the body. The surprise on their face, to find what they thought unstoppable, unkillable, slumped on the ground. Perhaps a secret satisfaction. Even the police know that my test is fair, and that the day when they stop looking for my macabre presents to them, is the day when one of those "heroes" finally proves himself worthy of his power.
They're going to have to keep looking though, because I don't plan on ever losing. | "FLYING MEN HAVE BEEN LEVELED ALL OVER NYC"
​
The headline surprised everyone.
​
Didn't surprise me-I don't scare easy. But the news headline was the last to get to the story and that was the scariest part. The reason why modern print journalism is dying: slowness.
​
I walked out of the power-free Starbucks, after chatting with an unwilling barista about how the recent "superheroes are people too" movement shared fragments with the civil rights movement oh so long ago, and chucked the paper. Besides the front page, it had some useless pitter-patter about which celebrity was kissing who, which powered man was the cutest, and which sidekick wore "it" best.
​
Right next to Starbucks stood a graffitied statue of one of NYC's most beloved heroes, Mind-Melder. Recently-beloved, actually, because of his *recent* assault allegations. Turns out being one of the most prominent telepaths also means you can be nefarious.
​
On top of the stoic Mind-Melder was a couple of homeless people, serenading about how the end was near, and how StarGods were coming back to Earth to take humanity's powers away, and reduce it to a weak people. Just as the man was breaking into his second verse, a shifty middle-aged, barely graying (but you wouldn't know it if you asked his PR team) appeared in the middle of the sky, threatening to excavate the homeless man.
​
Icarus, as he was known to the population (and again, to his PR team), had a rep for being a jerk, consistently causing casualties around him.
​
I took my palm, aimed it at his head, and lowered it. He fell to the ground, instantly dead.
​
StarGods are already here. | 2019-02-19T14:19:17 | 2019-02-19T13:13:58 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] Every year several hundred thousand people go missing worldwide, the crazies said it was aliens. When you were abducted, you found out they were right. Turns out humans make astonishingly good pets. Not because we're smart or strong or fast but because... we're adorable. | It reminded me of my leopard gecko.
Mine was bred in captivity, of course. He was a cute little thing, the length of my hand, yellow and black spotted, with the sweetest little smile. Leopard geckos are like that - they look like they're smiling. That was what caught my attention as a kid. I spent weeks pleading and harassing my father, putting together presentations on leopard gecko care, taking on extra chores and leaving articles on different morphs open on his browser tabs, until a glossy, glass tank appeared in my bedroom one day. I named him Joanna. He was a boy lizard, but I could not be dissuaded.
Leopard geckos are so common in the pet trade now that there's no point in getting them from the wild, but that was how it started. Men - I always envision them to be men, rough handed and dressed in khaki - drove out to the grasslands of Pakistan and caught wild leopard geckos by the hundreds, by the thousands. They tossed them into crates, tossed the crates into trucks, and hauled the lizards across the world to be sold to snub-nosed children for twenty bucks a piece.
It was a little like that.
She kept me well enough. I'm assuming my captor's gender, as there's no real way to know, but she seems feminine to me. Something about the way she tilts her head and trills when she's pleased with me, or the soft edges inside her vast, violet, compound eyes. I judged her to be compassionate, in her way. She made efforts to keep me comfortably, even trying to recreate my home environment. It was a poor man's shadow of the real thing, but at least I recognized the effort.
Speaking was pointless, aside from the fact that she seemed to like it when I did. I figured it was not dissimilar to when Joanna would croak at me. He was so small, so beneath consideration, that I assumed his stupid little squeaks existed to delight and surprise me. His instincts counted for so little. It was the same with her. I spoke frequently at first; she veered from obvious pleasure to stern commands for silence, based on how worked up she judged me to be. I couldn't understand the weird, shimmering notes that made up her speech, no matter how long I watched them sizzle brightly on the air, but I eventually learned tone, intention. It turns out telling the family dog to shut up sounds basically the same universally.
I don't speak so much anymore. There's no point. I am beneath consideration. I am fed. My needs are met. What's to be done? She is gargantuan. She is the monolith. The greatest victory I could hope to earn with open rebellion would be a moment of casual discipline, barely a ripple of disruption to her day.
Or she could decide I wasn't the right fit. "Rehome me," the way I would have rehomed a troublesome cat, once. I know my situation is not unique. I know there are others. Would another one be better or worse?
The devil you know, or the devil you don't?
I sleep most of the time, now. I'm not proud of it. It looks like I've given up, and I guess I have. All I have is days, nights, minutes, seconds ticking by, alone in my head, with no reprieve. No company. No distractions. She can't even figure out that I would like a book, a single book to read. And I have no way to tell her.
So I sleep.
But things have been changing, lately. At least, I think they have. It's so hard to tell, with my brain wrapped in thick layers of gauze. I haven't been able to think straight in weeks. Months? But I think, maybe, things have been changing. We go out more now. I see more of her world - the shifting, unsteady sky, the walkways that glow a pearly silver and bend slightly with your weight, the thick, sweet air that holds their words so well. She seems proud of me. We stop frequently, and I suspect she is showing me off. I can't find the energy to resent her for it. It seems so pointless, like spitting into a hurricane. What good would it do?
I can never get a feeling for how the place is laid out. Are we in a city? It feels that way to me, but I just can't tell. The walkways wrap and loop and sometimes double back on themselves. There's not a straight line anywhere. I never know where we're going. It would be easier, I think, to let go and stop trying to understand, but I just can't. That would be the final surrender, and then what would be left?
So it took me by surprise when I saw a bush. Just a normal bush. Squat and green, unusually spherical, like it was pruned by someone with only the vaguest idea of what a bush was actually supposed to look like, but it was, undeniably, a bush. And next to it, another. And further back, was that a tree?
I looked up at her, searched her flickering eyes for meaning, and she trilled happily at me. She unhooked the humming, white cuff that somehow kept me within five or six feet of her and gestured. The realization hit me: she's taken me to a park. An off-leash park.
And up ahead, down a clumsily recreated dirt path, was another person. Flesh and blood and bone, two eyes, upright, and waving at me. Another person.
They were making dog parks for us now.
I took one tentative step, then another. She made an encouraging sort of noise, and I broke into a trot, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Other people. A chance to talk. A chance to plan.
This changes everything. | "Awwwwwwwww."
The three children, at least I think they're children, beam down on me as I... eat my cereal.
"Lookit it go munch munch.
"Munch munch?" I ask.
"Awwwwwwwwwwwwww."
"Now now moppets, don't crowd. They don't like it when you stare as they eat."
My world has turned upside down lately in the past few months I think it's safe to say. An abduction was supposed to spell pain and torment and probes before either I was mindwiped and returned to earth or just killed.
This is better. It is. It definitely is. It's just... weird.
I mean, I do get it, cause if I looked like these aliens, I'd think I was cute too. Shame no one on earth ever thought of me that way but I guess I'm never going home again, so this'll do.
"If you all eat breakfast and clean before noon, we can take him to the park!"
The children cheer and I'm baffled by just how Earthlike it seems. I know the language is thanks to the chip in my brain that lets me hear what they say in terms that 'make sense to your little human mind'. I'm ok with it and I finish my Cap'n Crunch while watching them splash around the kitchen, making food and washing dishes.
The kids are good and soon they dress me in my 'park clothes', just a sweat suit, and take me out on a leash. It's weird cause I have no desire to run but I guess others might.
At the park, I see a couple other giant aliens walking their pet humans. I even manage to be let off leash to go 'play'.
"Hey Joe," I say to the man at the lakeside.
"Oh Doug. Hi. Good to see you."
We never know for sure when we're going to get a trip to the park, probably the highlight of a day, because the aliens can' hear US talk. Just vice versa. Apparently they know we're sentient enough to process language. Something that was lost on our owners, I guess.
Seems odd but what are you gonna do.
Joe seems to know exactly what to do though, because the young man is looking around all suspicious.
"Here." He slides me a little package. "Don't show your owners. Don't at all."
"K buddy. What is it?"
"If I could tell you in publish, I would already," he hissed. "Just... open it tonight when you're free and alone."
"Haha, free. Good one."
I'm treated with a withering glare and wonder if maybe he's serious.
"Ok dude. I'll do it."
\---
Later that night, I finally slip it out. It's a com link, the kind that I've seen the scientists and government use, the kind that melds with your skin. I pop it on and immediately it begins speaking to me in words so quiet I can barely hear.
"If you're hearing this, you've been activated, pet scion 12 10 12. Your job, as you are forced to accept it, is to be our eyes and ears on the MacMac family. You will not indicate to them in any way that you've been sent to spy on them. If you do, this chip will detonate, and with it, you."
Uh.
"We aren't too concerned since we've left you no way to communicate. You will report back once a week and follow through with any tasks we instruct. HQ signing off."
I gotta say, three months ago when walking through the park on a shortcut home, I didn't expect to be kidnapped, especially not by aliens, and certainly not to be a pet.
And I 100% *never* expected to be a conscripted plant, spying on my new owners who were unaware of my sentience.
The chip doesn't respond when I try to open a new communications channel, so I guess this is my lot.
I'm stuck in a home of aliens and forced to spy on them under the guise of their beloved pet. And I thought 2020 couldn't get any weirder.
___
Find more stories at [r/SamaraWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/SamaraWrites/) | 2020-09-09T09:24:08 | 2020-09-09T08:32:02 | 379 | 269 |
[WP]: Two characters with no common language are forced into an arranged marriage. Due to the language barrier, they have vastly different ideas of the nature of the situation. | (Hover over the marked text to read the spoilers/translations)
****
After the ceremony, the vows at the altar, the exchange of rings, the kiss, and finally the dance, the newlyweds found themselves in a horse carriage on the way back to the castle. Brian’s father, who also happened to be the king, had arranged the whole thing with the invading savages. The Swedish Vikings had plagued the land for decades, and this was the deal that would end the raids – the marriage between the crown prince and the Viking chieftain’s daughter.
“Hey, are you quite all right?” Brian said and looked over at his bride. “I promise I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”
Frida pulled at her dress. “[Jag förstår inte ett ord av vad du säger, men jag ser fram emot att komma ur denna klänning.](/s "I don't get a word you're saying, but I'm looking forward to getting out of this dress.")
”
“I’m not very fond of this arrangement either,” Brian said.
“[Hur långt är det kvar till slottet?](/s "How far is it to the castle?")” Frida said and ripped the sleeve off her dress. “[Är du bra i säcken?](/s "Are you good in the sack?")”
“I’m sorry you had to wear that. I’m sure the dresses you have back home are much more comfortable.”
“[Snackar alla engelsmän så här mycket?](/s "Does every englishman talk this much?")” Frida said with a scowl. “[Ta mig på golvet bara.](/s "Just take me on the floor already.")”
“I get that you’re upset – I am too. But let’s make the best of the situation, okay?”
“[Herregud, detta endlösa babbel,](/s "Oh my god, this endless chatter,")” Frida said and rolled her eyes. “[Det är som att man hamnat i Norge.](/s "It's like I've ended up in Norway.")”
Finally, the carriage arrived at the castle. The spires of gray rock almost pierced the clouds. Brian helped Frida down and then showed her into his chambers. She sat down on the royal bed, still fidgeting with the dress.
“I get it if you don’t want to consummate the marriage.” Brian gently put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll even sleep on the couch; do you want me to sleep on the couch?”
“[Äntligen rör du mig; det tog sin lilla tid,](/s "Finally you're touching me; that took some time,")” she said and nodded vigorously. ”[Började tro att du var bög.](/s "Was starting to think you were gay.")”
”Okay, then,” Brian said and walked over to couch.
“[Kom igen då!](/s "Come on, then!")” Frida said, and pulled her dress down.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Brian said and covered his eyes. “I’ll give you some privacy. I’ll be in the next room if you need me.”
He had been the perfect gentleman given the situation, and perhaps after enough time Frida would come to like him. She was a very pretty young woman, and any man would be proud to call her his wife. He sighed and left the room.
“[Men för i helvete!](/s "What the hell!")” Frida said, and sighed.
****
[r/Lilwa_Dexel](https://www.reddit.com/r/Lilwa_Dexel/comments/5foev0/welcome/)
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6dt0fl/wp_write_a_story_in_two_or_more_languages_it/di58qzt/)
| The wind was strong today. Stronger than I have ever seen before. So strong that it uprooted the ancient oak tree and catapulted it into our windmill. I never thought I'd see either our sturdy oak tree or our strong mill fall. But, as branches and rocks lay scattered across the ground and the wooden blades were hanging from a splinter, I realized that even the constants were not infallible. My father too, the voice of reason, the kind-hearted, was also not infallible. To grant me a "better life", he sold me into slavery.
It was an american man. He was big, loud, and ugly. He came in a truck with a load of cash. American dollars. I've never seen American Dollars before. But he had tons. They look like monopoly money. Before I knew it, I was signing my name on a document with the american and whisked away from my country. My home.
We arrived in the "land of the free" except I was not free. I was to be his slave. He brought me to this big house and showed me around. I was on the verge of tears. It was so big! How was I to clean all of it?
He brought me to the kitchen. It was around midday so he must expect me to cook him some food. However, when he pushed me into a chair and started to rustle through the cabinets himself, laughing and yabbering on all the while. He brought out some food and turned on the oven. He was making a meal? I was a slave. Was I not supposed to be the one cooking?
These strange occurrences carried on throughout the day. He would do stuff for me. Me, his slave. What did he want me for then? Company? He had paid my father all that money for company? I could not understand it.
Then, that night, I understood everything. He had an intense look in his eyes as he led me to his bedroom. He pushed me up against the door and his big fat hand creeped down and down until it reached for my dress. He slid his hand up my skirt. Yes, I was a slave - I was a sex slave. | 2017-05-27T11:22:59 | 2017-05-27T10:16:53 | 2,339 | 262 |
[WP] Orcs and Elves have been fighting since what seems like forever, but eventually both sides get confused as to why they even started in the first place. The rulers of both races get together to find out why, but even the most well-kept Elven records and highest ranked Orc shamans don't know. | Orc and elf alike watched the other warily, hands drifting close to their weapons as one side warily eyed the other. They had both arrived on the outskirts of the great elvish capital with a truce in place, but nobody could be entirely certain the other side could be trusted to uphold their side of the truce...
After what felt like centuries but was most likely half an hour at most, the elvish soldiers dispersed to allow three women in splendid armor forth; the generals of the elvish army, highly esteemed individuals who had only recently earned their place. The orcs shuffled aside as well to let their shamans pass, the elderly druids shuffling forward in a soft and melodic clattering of bones, crystals, and other such adornments. Both sides stared at each other for a few more long moments, before the oldest of the shamans spoke up:
"Calm yourselves, children of the fae. We do not come to fight today."
The elves didn't relax, exactly, but they did let their hands drop away from their weapons at least. One of the generals sighed in relief. "Nor do we, scions of the forest."
"Scions of the forest..." The shamans chuckled a bit at that. "Long has it been since we were last addressed as such," another shaman remarked, her voice gravely and bearing the weight of incredible age. "It is good to know that not all of the children of the fae have forgotten who we are."
"You're savages is-"
One of the generals smacked a particularly brazen elvish lad across the back of the head. "Back to the barracks with you."
"Yes ma'am..."
As the young man skulked off, the generals returned their attention to the orcs. "At any rate. As promised, we have scoured our records for whatever may have caused this war." She hesitated a moment. "...as you know, we keep meticulous records, only destroying that which is no longer needed or that which is deemed dangerous for common knowledge. Try as we might, we... could not find any records of why this whole war started in the first place. Which is... rather troublesome."
The shamans nodded. "Aye. We consulted the spirits of the forest ourselves, for long is their memory, and strangely, they cannot recall either. Not even the grand gods for the forest know."
"...what does that mean?" a younger orc asked hesitantly.
"It means that the war has either raged on for so long that all information about it has been lost, or that someone had vested interest in ensuring that we do not know why it really started," a general said, looking more and more troubled. "I'm hoping it's the first reason, because the second... who would have the power to alter the memories of spirits and gods...?"
"Admittedly, the spirits of the forest are not strong compared to other spirits and gods, their essence so tied to such a small and localized area on the mortal planes," a young druid remarked. "But still, even our eldest druids are hesitant to even touch the minds of the forest gods. To be able to alter their memory indicates a level of skill and power that not even Krothu the Elder has..."
Both sides resumed staring at the other, their fear and distrust slowly seeping away as they finally viewed each other not as enemies in combat, but as other people. Other humanoids, with their own unique cultures and ways of life.
One of the generals cleared her throat. "...well... since we're already here... would anyone care for tea?"
The oldest of the shamans smiled kindly and sat down stiffly. "I would love nothing more." | The Ancient one carefully unrolls a scroll so old, it appears to be just dust held together by magic." This scroll is the oldest one we have found linked to the war, it predates the sundering of Divus mountain. A reference to it was discovered by chance, and to find it, high price had to be payed to the Elementals."
Grux, the diplomat for the Orc coalition leans forward. "I hope this gives us a clue, the armistice will not last much longer. It took much threatening and and even some unsavory actions on my part, to convince the Assembly of Warlords to let me attend today. The pressure to restart the war is at a breaking point."
"I understand, the opinion, that the current talks are but a ploy of the orcs to regroup is becoming loud at the Eternal Court." The long white brows of the Ancient one furrows "I... I do not know this language, the script barely recognizable to me, but I know not the words."
Grux glances at the artifact and his eyes widen in disbelief. "That's because it is written in ancient orcish using what we assumed to be a pre elvish script, I recognize the third and fourth word of the title, it is carved in the Stone throne it roughly translates to the Pretext for War. Can you sound out the words for me please?"
"I will try, lets see, yes, it should be something like "Líklegasta forsendan fyrir stríði"."
"I am not sure if we should be worried or excited, I believe it says "Most probable pretext for war."
"Dear gods, this scroll is over 30 000 years old, is it possible even they didn't know for sure?"
"We will need to translate it to find out."
"And we need to do it quick, I can feel the forces geitting in motion" | 2021-10-12T05:02:49 | 2021-10-12T04:35:20 | 49 | 17 |
[WP] You are a commercial airliner pilot. The moment before you turn your phone off to begin the flight your SO sends you a deeply concerning text. | "Davis! Great to see you. It's been too long, eh?"
I sat down next to my copilot, and sipped on my coffee as the preflight checklist slowly scrolled on my phone.
"Yeah buddy. I've been in the Northeast these last few months. You been well?"
"Jackie and I bought a house in Florida last month. 6 years of saving, but it's a friggin palace, I swear. You know, you should come by one of these days. We never did have a housewarming."
Davis' grin was ear to ear as he said, "Definitely man. The wife and I need a break from Maine, for sure."
I nodded, and turned my attention to my phone. Flights have been so much easier since they let us use this app. Only a few steps left to go and we could be on o--
***Dingding***
A black banner appeared above my checklist with a text from my wife. I raised my eyes to read it.
*"Baby someone is here I called the cops..."*
It took a second to scroll and then I saw--
*"but I wanted you to know I love you just in case."*
My heart beat faster, and a look must have come across me because Davis spoke.
"Hey, is everything okay Will?"
I coughed a bit and flashed a quick smile. "Yeah man, fine. Just took a gulp down the wrong pipe."
He wasn't convinced. "I mean, you don't look so good. Really. Want some oxygen real quick?"
"No, no. I'll be alright. The coffee is stronger today than usual, that's all."
"Haha," he chuckled in agreement. "Sasha back there knows what we need, that's for sure."
***Dingding***
My head snapped to my phone.
*"They are wrecking the kitchen and running room to room..."*
*"...I'm in our bathroom door is locked."*
I caught Davis looking over at me and put my phone upside down on my lap.
"Is your son enjoying college?" I asked him.
"A little too much if you ask me," he admitted. "I know I wasn't a model student, but kids these days have a bit more freedom than they need, you know?"
"Yeah I hear you," I said absentmindedly.
***Dingding***
"The cops are here."
I breathed out and wiped the sweat from my hands onto my slacks.
"Are we all boarded, Davis?"
"Looks like it. I'll start the announcements."
Davis grabbed the microphone from its slot in our center console and began. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your copilot speaking. The Captain has turned on the fasten seat belt sign. If you haven't already..."
***Dingding***
I turned my phone over slowly and the words seemed to echo around my mind in her tiny voice.
*"They know each other."*
I swallowed. My seat suddenly felt too small. Davis' voice seemed far away, and the air grew stifling. Almost like breathing through a damp towel.
***Dingding***
*"THEY'RE AT THE DOOR. I LOVE YOU I LOVE U I LOVE U I LVOE U I LVO EU."*
I realized I had been on the edge of my seat, and I slumped back with a wet thud. My body felt like it had gone four rounds in the ring, and my ears were ringing with blood.
"All right partner we're all set. Ready to jam?"
Davis sat in his seat and slipped his headphones on. He reached between us and lifted mine up to me.
***Dingding***
The text came from a blocked number. I read it quickly, since it only contained one word.
*"Done."*
I took Davis' offering and turned my phone off. As I slid the headphones over my head, my mouth spread in a full smile and a slight chuckle erupted from my throat.
"Yeah Davis. This is gonna be a great flight." | *644221*
I read the numbers and then our pre-flight routine is broken as I whirr to a stop. Co-pilot, John, keeps talking, not realizing I'm sitting there frozen like a block of ice.
My phone buzzes again. *644221*.
"Mike? You right?"
John's Australian. It sounds like *rooight*.
"Uh yeah. Just give me a minute. My wife..."
I wave at my phone. My wife, my wife, my wife. Angela. My wife is... a spy, I guess. We tell people she works for the Government in "business services".
Spy isn't even really it. More like "the person who gets shit done that needs to be done". One of those faceless people who are never in photo-ops, the president doesn't know their name but who wield great power because of who and what they know.
And what they can do.
We never talk shop. I don't know the nuclear launch codes. I don't have a secret passport waiting for me somewhere thanks to Angela. Our daughter doesn't have a security escort.
Ilsa. She's two. At six am she'll be up watching TV before Angela tells her to turn it off.
I can't leave Ilsa.
But the deal...
The deal is that if I get a text with a certain number in it that I have to go. If I'm flying, I need to detour and get as far away from major cities as possible. If I'm outside the US, I need to stay outside. If I can turn back, I turn back.
Today we're going from Los Angeles to Melbourne, Australia. A solid day of flying. But I can't leave-
"Mike, are you okay?"
John, getting worried now.
"Just need a second."
I don't bolt out the door but it's close. I nod and smile to puzzled attendants and then walk past boarding passengers and then I'm in the airport trying not to run and then the blur becomes taxi, traffic, frustration, Angela won't pick up the line, why is the traffic so bad, fuck, pick up the line, why are we just sitting here, time slipping away, fuck
my phone is dead
the flash of light over the buildings hits us first and the driver yells
and | 2014-06-18T18:47:02 | 2014-06-18T18:29:14 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] A demon provides an angel a shoulder to cry on as they watch the world end. | The naked sun beat down, red and furious over the cracked earth. The wind swept over crags and broken, precipitous, stone. Small pools of blood dried as the desert staunched their slow growth. Soft whispers of breeze danced along the barren clay, flinging gray flecks off the flesh of the ground and into the unforgiving air.
A being sat atop a jagged stone tooth, high in the air. His curled blonde locks spilled over his shoulders and onto his back. The wind made them dance and flinch as he sat unwavering in the stagnant wastes. At lengths, the two alabaster wings jutting from his shoulders would tense and beat the air as his arms sat at his sides. A long spear of ash sat abandoned in his lap. Across his chest was a cuirass of steel emblazoned with divine bronze iconography. His silver eyes looked empty into the abyss of a bygone battlefield.
"Hello Michael." Said a small voice behind him.
Turning, the being faced his foe. With speed inhuman, he had stood and gripped his spear. He sat poised to strike, his face taut with rage. His opponent stood a few feet away, wrapped in a course burlap robe. Small horns spiraled outward and upward from his temples. He had a yellow pallor across his body, blue veins showing clear through the translucent skin. Small red eyes smiled back at Michael.
"Peace brother. The games over." He said approaching slowly.
"Then...the last one...?" Michael asked slowly.
He adversary nodded solemnly. Michael allowed his shoulders to fall and the spear to slip from his hands. He returned to his seat overlooking the wastes. The stranger walked forward and took a seat by his side. The two unlikely companions looked out into the unadorned land, Michael balefully and the stranger sadly.
"So it's finally over then." Michael finally offered.
"It finally is." Sighed the stranger.
"It never should have been started, Satan."
"That's where I suppose we can agree, brother."
"Don't call me that. You lost the right to call me that."
Satan laughed weakly to himself. "For that I am sorry. I suppose I expected you to join."
Michael looked at him with furrowed brow, then closed his eyes and dropped his head. "I know. You know I couldn't have."
"I know." Returned Satan placing his hand on Michael's back. "But it had to be done. You had your role and I had mine."
"I just thought... I thought there would be peace at the end. Not... not this." Michael said, tears dropping from his eyes.
"We're just pieces in His game after all." Satan said ruefully.
Michael drew his shoulder out from under his hand. "I took no joy in this. No pleasure. You brought us here, kicking and screaming. You threw yourself against an unassailable foe in the vain hope that you could die in rebellion against Him. You wanted glory as a king or as a martyr!"
"No." Answered Satan softly.
"Liar!" Shouted Michael standing. His spear returned to his hand and sat inches from his enemies throat. Red eyes faded to obsidian pits. At the heart of these pits, small fires began to grow and consume the inky black. With speed unparalleled, he rose. Hideous bat wings of thin purple membrane threw off his robe and tensed outward, waiting for the opponents strike. Their eyes met and held one another. Gradually both beings relaxed and stood facing the other meekly.
"I didn't" Whispered Satan, wings folding.
"You led them astray." Choked Michael, tears returning.
"I gave them a choice." Replied Satan, voice cracking. "Can't you see that? That's all I wanted. To give them a choice."
"A choice to live and die in vain. A chance to feel pain. A chance to hate and know fear. To be truly alone. That is what you gave them. A legacy of ashes."
"But a legacy of their own." Answered Satan pleadingly. "I gave them a chance to know freedom. To know success after strife. Love after triumph. Joy after despair."
"They would have known joy and love had you let them be."
"Please. No more. It's ended now. Can't we just wait together in peace?" Asked Satan.
"Wait for what?" Answered Michael, attempting to put anger in his voice.
"Him." Said Satan.
"Yes. I suppose we can." Said Michael sitting. Satan rejoined him.
A long interminable silence hung between them.
"I loved them." Said Satan. Michael turned and saw tears streaming from Satan's red eyes.
"So did I." Said Michael, tears flowing.
The two embraced as the sun fled down behind the horizon. | They had lived so long as opposites, they had forgotten what it was like to be together.
Aleana's golden tresses fell on Ahruman's arm as she wept, tears trickling down her cheeks. They were the contrast of a painting; whites and reds, golds and blacks, sat atop a cliff, legs dangling with childish abandon as the world crumpled around them, land folding in on itself, oceans draining, skies blistering red like open wounds.
"It's a bit of a cliché, isn't it?" Ahruman observed absent-mindedly.
"Hm?" Aleana wiped a tear from her sparkling blue eyes, looking up at the first angel she'd ever loved. The demon she'd grown to hate.
"I always expected there to be no pomp or circumstance. No grand ending, no season finalé. Just for it to all end, like it began. A curtain dropping on a stage-play. It's disappointing, that the end has to look so damn beautiful."
Aleana laughed, casting her eyes to the fading stars. "Maybe that's God's way of saying goodbye."
Ahruman nuzzled her cheek. "Can we not talk about the source of all my problems, Aleana?"
"Sure, so long as you promise to leave Lucifer out of this one."
"Of course. This is about us. And..." Ahruman felt something well up in his chest for the first time in centuries. A tight-knot that refused to unwind, the stinging in his eyes. An immense sadness fell over him. "...Why does it have to end? *Why?*"
"Because all life must. It's a truth mortals have spent centuries struggling to accept; as angels, we never had time to contemplate that we might one day have to come to terms with the same fate."
"But *why?* I spent centuries waiting to see you again, and only now, when Heaven and Hell collapsed and the Universe as we know it is dying, do I get to see your face. It's a *fucking* travesty." His voice cracked, his head turning to mask the onset of tears.
Aleana's fingers brushed his cheek, compelling him to look over at her once more. "If we had infinity ahead of us, we'd never have met again, Ahruman. We'd have been confined to our realms."
"*I*...*I know.*"
"So wipe those tears from your eyes, oh Prince of Hell. Love what precious few moments we have left."
"What precious few people, you mean," he said, managing a weak grin.
She blinked, realising now that there was no need for secrets between them. "Of course."
Aleana brushed her hair back, straightening her back so her eyes were level with Ahrumans. She leaned in, and together they kissed as the world faded to nothingness around them. | 2018-04-12T16:28:50 | 2018-04-12T16:20:24 | 57 | 13 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | "Idiot fuk human design shit-tier spaceship get all Brogga friend kill't. End all. Stoopt fuk. E'ryon kno warp spacetime. E'ryon kno break litspeeding. E'ryon kno crate warm hole. E'ryon kno cut mass half. E'yron cept idiot fuk humans. Y d'sign dumb shit-tier drive can't fi'ure out nuttin'. Cant warp spacetime. Cant break litspeeding. Cant crate warm hole. Cant cut mass. 'Stead idiot fuk human burrow down subquark stangelet bullshit risk implode entire quadrant for fuk newmatter. Y? Too dumb, tha's y. Now Brogga stuk dumb idiot fuk human ship on oth'r side galactic spinward fr'home. Idiot fuk human get Brogga kill't, get Brogga friend kill't..."
The muttering was cut off by a bang, followed by curses unutterable by the tongues of men. Poor old Brogga had been clanking about underneath the hullward dash for the last three days, almost without a break, muttering the entire time.
Say what he would, Brogga was nothing short of a mechanical genius, being the only Broggan capable of working on the Subquark-plated external combustion Engine. It took a particularly pliable mind to make an external combustion engine work, particularly when one was compressing- and burning- pure vacuum. The only real downside was the slight chance of creating decay, but if that happened it wouldn't matter as the entire tanker would be destroyed within seconds. I supposed it would have mattered to the rest of the Universe, but Brogga wouldn't have cared for he would have been the first to go.
Well, okay, there was a second slight problem. See, by burning pure vacuum they wore away a little strip of the cosmos. It was so small that it probably didn't matter, and the Universe was expanding anyways, but certain routes did get more traffic and engines were getting more efficient all the time.
"Idiot fuk human shit design fuk"
More clattering and banging from underneath the hullward dash.
"Idiot fuk human, try now"
Brogga's curses were rewarded with a shuttering rumble as the external combustion engine roared to life.
"Well that's curious" Captain Froy remarked, staring in disbelief at the guages.
Normal external combustion engines were able to operate somewhere between 10,000% and 100,000% efficiency, and for every joule of vacuum energy burned 100% efficiency would yield 10 kilo-joules.
The digital display read 10^89 % efficiency.
"Brogga, I think this gauge is busted."
"Idiot fuk human replace it then. Brogga sleeps."
Then, with customary swagger Captain Froy shoved the throttle open and pulled out, easing back into his seat for a cozy nap. However, when Captain Froy awoke several hours later he was not where he expected. In fact, he was not sure where he was at all.
You see, Brogga had accidentally upgraded their engine. Nobody saw the display, but if they had, they would have seen Brogga, Froy, and the rest of the crew tearing ass across the Universe, ripping a cosmic-scale gash in the vacuum like God's holy zipper. Of course this hole rapidly closed up, but in the time it would normally take them to travel a few hundred lightyears they had soared clear of the "observable Universe" several times over.
In fact, they had traveled so far they weren't entirely sure how to get back.
Thus began the journey of Brogga and the idiot fuk humans who wasted 600 years of his life and destroyed his capacity to speak properly. | \- You say it runs on what? - I asked human, staring with all four of my eyes in disbelief.
\- Magic! - She replied with pride - Look, I'm not making a fun of you, it literally just runs on magic. Or at least something that by all accounts fits the definition of magic. See that fella over there in weird cloaks slumping by the bar? The one next to big wooden stick? He's my mage, he's making all the things tick just right. Here, let me explain to you. - the human captain started drawing three stick figures with beer stains, lastly she encircled all of them - Let's say these two are you and me. You want me to do something, let's say move that box over there, so you ask me to do so. Now, if you're a dick about it, I gonna flip ya a bird
\- Why would you topple avian creature...?
\- figure of speech, not relevant to the story. Anyway, you can be also polite about it, and I might hear your request. Or might not. Or you might hold gun to my head and then I won't have much choice.
\- I still don't see how's that relevant to mages and this whole "mahic" deal.
\- You see, that's what mages do, except instead of asking you or me to do stuff for them, they're asking Universe. In terms it can't ignore...
\- Wait, no... - my eyes widened in terror. She could not possibly mean what I think she means!
\- ...by holding a proverbial gun to Universe's proverbial head - she finished her sentence, there was something slightly psychotic in her smile. What kind of race could be self-absorbed enough to think they can talk to universe and that it will answer? Worse, what kind of race would then **threaten** universe, once they discovered it's possible?! | 2017-03-31T12:19:53 | 2017-03-31T06:50:44 | 37 | 17 |
[WP]The Suit is powerfull. A mech for some, body armor for others, always unique to each person who wore it. Those who wear it, hear the words "not original user, booting basic mode" As a joke, your sergeant gives you The Suit and the first thing you hear is: "User detected: Welcome back, Commander" | The screams confused me, the scent of burnt flesh overwhelmed me, the ever-growing fires blinded me. The only light came from the burning homes and bodies. The only sound was that of death and destruction. The only person I cared about was no more. That's when I decided to hide, to go dark.
For the first time in my life, I was feeling powerless.
It had all happened so fast. Moments earlier, I was with her. Then, the skies went dark. Like during an eclipse, but way faster. And way, way creepier. Literally everything was pitch black. The sun disappeared, our phones were burnt, the cars instantly stopped. Then, the lightning. We thought the planet finally had enough of us and decided to just wipe us from its surface.
But those strikes were not random. People were looking for a lighter, or running, or reassuring their child. Then a light would come down on them, vaporizing them on the spot for the lucky ones, setting them on fire for the others.
When the light touched my wife, I felt as if my own life was being stripped away. I could swear that a moment before, she was briefly looking at me, plunging her eyes into mine for the last time.
The sun came back shortly after. I composed myself, and did what I knew She'd want me to do.
I hid.
___
“What are you trying to do exactly, raise a panic movement?”
The interviewer leaned in with his tricky question. His guest adjusted his stance with impatience.
“No no no, you don't follow here. We're not trying to scare people. We want to make them aware. We all need to prepare, to get ready for the day they'll come back. You see...”
The slightly overweight man corrected the position of his glasses on his nose.
“You see... we didn't beat them. They let us beat them.”
“What do you mean exactly? They came from however far away to let us kill them? Why would anyone do that?”
“I don't know. We don't know. What we do know, is that their behaviour was too coordinated, they acted like a hive-based species. The timestamped recordings clearly show that the Army massively deployed the AI-powered coilguns, successfully shooting down a few high-velocity flying fighters. And only then did we start to see them calm down, and we could turn the tables in our favour. So I'm asking you... What if the AI targeted and shot down their main officers? Or better, their Queen? Why else would they just surrender? We're not really—”
“Wait a minute.” The journalist raised his hand to his guest, the other one touching his earpiece. “I don't recall of any public release about those guns, or about any of your conclusions.”
“Well this should have already been released to the public, there's no reason to hide—”
“You know what, I'm gonna have to stop you right here.” Turning to the camera, the journalist continued. “As you can see, in these times of reconstruction, opinions still diverge. As many look at the past in search of the truth, many more look toward the future, hoping to build a better tomorr—”
I couldn't hear them anymore, long gone in my own thoughts.
The war had lasted for months. Each report we had got was worse than the previous one. Some people acted like brainwashed dormant agents, starting to methodically execute their close high-interest relative. A Secretary of State killed by her own husband. A decorated admiral found dead from the hands of his best friend.
The things attacking us had obviously been studying, infiltrating us for a long time, and yet we didn't know anything about them. We only saw those flying things.
The deaths were counted in billions. And after such a Pyrrhic victory, there were still people who tried to steal it from us.
Traitors to their own nation, if you'd asked me...
But they were right about at least one thing. We had to be ready. For whatever came next, the nation would need everyone who could help. That's why I joined.
___
“Hey Private. That's your first week here, right? What's your name?”
“You're right Sir. It's Jenkins, Sir.”
Some men in the squad started to smile, like teenagers about to push their friend in the swimming pool.
“How about you follow us Jenkins? We have something to do, maybe you could help.”
We took unending stairs to access a fortified basement, with a ceiling as high as a football stadium.
In the center was a man, standing before a desk with a jury. As we stepped closer, I could have a better look.
“Wait... Is that... Is this...?”
“Exactly. And today's your lucky day. 'cause you're gonna wear it.”
I wouldn't be proud of this moment, how dull my face must have looked. With disbelief, I looked at the people sitting in front of us. One of them spoke to me.
“If you really need to know... This suit is self-powered. But it activates on some form of power form its user, and no tests have proven promising in showing any out of the norm results. So, as many brave and...” the man insisted on the next word, “unharmed others before you, please try it”, he finished with an inviting gesture of the hand.
I walked towards the Suit, hearing only the giggles of the squad and the pounding of my own heart.
“How long 'till he collapses, this one?”
“10 bucks on 6 seconds tops.”
Standing before the exoskeleton, I could hear a slight humming.
As I raised my left foot, the Suit's legs started to shiver, as an invitation. I hesitated, and looked at the jury, impassible as a stone wall.
After a deep breath, I put both of my feet in. The armor instantly came to my body, feeling like a perfectly fit uniform.
“User detected: Welcome back, Commander.”
As I heard the words, my head started spinning. My memories got all mixed up. I could see myself riding my bike, but now I was flying in the dark. I could see myself holding my dying wife, but She was now pep talking me, getting in her own enhanced Suit.
It all clicked in, and I let out a burst of laughter.
“Should I switch to your native language Sir?”
I smiled.
“Sure. Let's get to work. We have a nation to awaken.” | "Did you hear what the Boz did at sigma phi? The Mytolixers were butchering the GI but they didn't count on having their heads explode on account of the resonant frequency from the suit".
Deekin was doing his hero worship thing again. They treat us support staff like shit, but Deekin was a true believer. Or at least he will be for a while. I was too when I came to the front 10 years ago.
"Boz is a fat chuf who is lucky enough to get interfaced with the Suit. A dead monkey would do in a pinch. Focus on the clean up and we'll be out of cam that much faster." I yelled back from the other side of the loo.
Legend says that the suit was made by the Remenants, old masters long gone even while we were banging rocks together. The boffins called it an Adaptive Exoskeleton. Us grunts, just the Suit. Every loser who come to the base dreams of Interfacing. They slap it on all the recruitment posters too. "This could be *you!*. Except they leave the bit about who you know, the standardized entrance test and the fact that Interfacing doesn't work for everyone.
You see the Suit doesn't work for everyone. Everyone who gets in hears one of two things. If you're lucky, you hear "Not Original User. Booting Basic Mode". If you're unlucky, you hear nothing. Then off to GI for you. If you're really unlucky, you join Deekin and I in the latrines. Because some people aren't deemed good enough to even be cannon fodder.
"Think fast lunkers". And I hear a wet, disgusting and entirely too familiar sound. I guess we're back to square one on the pits.
"Could you please be a little more considerate? I just cleaned that side." I shouted.
"You talking to the Lag like this? I ain't got time for this shit. Now clean it up. You or the other lunker". You see even in the basic mode, those who are lucky enough to Interface unlock one functionality. Boz can manipulate sonic waves. Lag gets fractional light speed traversal. You get the drift. They become celebrities and somehow also transform into assholes.
So far, there are 451 documented powers of the suit imprinted on 451 asshats, and the higher ups decide who gets to wear it depending who we are fighting. Trouble is the other 450 guys outside the suit don't like sharing the glory and take it out on "lunkers" like us.
Guess Lag was feeling particularly vulnerable. He wasn't called into rotation for the past 73 sorties. Deekin was naive enough to console him about it.
And got a fist through his face and 20 stitches. Now we know we can't do jack all to the golden boys. But hell, I'm his superior, so I gotta report that in. The outcome is as expected. Deekin gets docked a week's pay for "dereliction of duty" and I get to tell him the good news.
So I go ahead and pick up a couple of bottles of the good stuff and break the news as gently as I can. We drink through the night and the tech boys come and clean up the Suit and get it ready for another go. And I guess a madness ceases me. I drag Deekin to the armoury.
"Look at it Deeks. This fuckin Suit. It does all the work and those monkeys think they're the heroes. Fuckin arrogant douchebags think they own us. Why if we ever had a go, who's to say if we wouldn't have Interfaced, eh? In fact. Fuck'em. Go on, wear it."
"Ww-what? I can't do that. I never took the Standardized. I'll be in so much trouble!"
"Son, that's an order" I slurred. The tiny sober part of my brain was screaming. But the drink was louder. A lot louder. "Go on Deeks, put it on. I'll report you for disobeying a superior occifer" and I gave him a light shove.
So Deekin went ahead to obey. And then....
"Saaaaaargeeee!" came the panicked wail. "It's speaking to me Sarge"
It can't be. The motherfucker can't be Interfacing. "What does it say? Is it booting to Basic?"
No Sarge, it says "Welcome back Commander, 1024 tactical options available..." | 2019-08-19T11:20:44 | 2019-08-19T10:42:35 | 158 | 88 |
[WP] The Universe™ has just run out of free trial meaning we are being downgraded from Universe™ pro to Universe™ lite. | I remember the day that it happened like it was yesterday. Hell, it could have been yesterday for all I know, time doesn't seem to exist or matter anymore. The sun neither rises nor sets, just hangs in its default position overhead.
It was just like any other day, I had come home from a long day at work, and resigned myself to my usual groove on the couch. I flicked the TV on, not that I had anything in particular to watch, just the noise to drown my own thoughts out. As another infomercial selling gaudy jewelry to senile citizens came on I decided it was time to numb with a few beers.
I got up and went to the fridge, just like any other time I had in the past, this however, is where my, and everyone else's world, changed in a flash. A bright light raced through the world, the open beer held in my hand fell unexpectedly to the floor. No expected shattering of glass, no pooling of spilled liquid, just a dull thud as it hit the floor. I bent down to pick it up and realized quickly that it was now square in shape, no curves, no smooth texture, just squared edges and a lack of sense of touch.
Then I slowly began to realize in my horror that I couldn't pick it up if I wanted to, my hands had disappeared, and in their place were simple square arms that ended resolutely in a square nub. As I glanced around my apartment I saw that all textures had disappeared and in their place smooth cubes seemed to replace them. My TV was now merely a crude colored square situated across from my now blocky couch.
I could hear a cacophony of screams emanating from the streets below, and yet no sirens, no bright flashing lights, nothing even remotely close to what we thought was the fundamental principle of electricity in our world.
I had to get outside, I had to see what was going on. As I approached my door I slowly realized with a sickening dread that I could not even open my own door, neither was their a knob nor a pair of hands in my possession with which to operate it had their been one. As I screamed in anguish I punched the door, again and again, and much to my surprise on the third hit the door just seemed to fall apart. No splinters, no visible damage, just instantaneously on the third hit it dissolved into what could only be described as a shower of pixels.
Booming throughout the universe came a voice stating that " Your free trial of Life pro has ended, please purchase the full version to continue your previous experience."
Life isn't really so bad now, I have my tree punching job to look forward to, and I still have all my friends, although we only resemble what we once were in the vaguest of sense. Man do I ever miss bacon...and the simple pleasure of taking a shit. But hey, at least I get to play with my wood everyday...
| I knew something was up when the clouds spelled something about changing privacy policies but i didnt know things would be this bad. This wasnt something that could be easily be solved and my god was this laggy. I was about to get mugged but i refused to give him money and as soon as he pulled the trigger a message popped up in front of us “only Universe Pro users have access to this feature” i guess i was saved. Apparently Universe Pro had less natural disasters and higher chances to live, a tornado appeared and i ran to the basement as soon as i could but i rubber-banded and was hitting a wall so rip me i guess. I see the light and reached the gates of heaven but i heard another message “only Universe Pro users have access to this add-on.” I fell back down to earth forced to live my life as a ghost but thats not even fun since Lite users have rules as a ghost. Ghost cant be in the same room as humans unless allowed, If a ghost touches a human that body part will vanish and we can never rest. Well at the very least my privacy will be protected. | 2018-05-28T08:11:13 | 2018-05-28T07:43:24 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] You are a tutorial character, your job is to guide new players through the bigining of the game. You're used to the usual eye-rolling and the occasional newbie but one day you encounter a speed runner. | So I guide this guy, one mister "SaveTheAnimals", into the training room. The moment I finish my introductory speech and activate the Cube Dispenser, he catches the cube without looking. Just sticks his hand out behind him and let's it fall into his open palm.
He goes straight for the big red button on the floor, which easily puts him in the top quartile of players. Funny thing, though. He doesn't place the cube on the button. He runs past the button to the door. But before he gets there and I have to give him my "box + button = open door" speech, he does the craziest thing. At the time, it was too fast to tell what happened, but I looked at some security footage later and figured it out. So, first, he throws the box at the bottom of the door with all his might, then he jumps. He hangs in the air for a moment, during which the box bounces off the door going crazy fast and whacks him in the chest real good. At the same moment, he whips around 180 degrees. Rather than just knocking him back like you'd expect, somehow it knocks him forward and, past the box and over the wall(there's no ceiling. We weren't expecting bullshit cube based parkour when we built this place. He lands on the other side, just about where he'd be if he walked through the door.
Luckily, he hits the trigger that makes me to warp over there, and I can give him my "goblin + sword = loot" speech. Once I go through my script and unlock the weapon cabinet, he's right there. He grabs the weapon(an Old Sword +0) and goes towards the goblin. Now, there's a bridge he's supposed to cross, which is where I'm supposed to enable his HP and Stamina bars, but he stops and jams the sword in the intricate railing of the bridge. And you know what he does? He hops up like some sort of ninja and balances on the sword. Then, and you're not gonna believe this, he does a perfect pirouette, which sets the sword wiggling like crazy. It whacks him pretty hard in the ankles, but he doesn't have his HP bar yet, so he can't even get hurt. He does fall over. Tripping doesn't need an HP bar. Instead of falling into the river, he catches himself on the far side and pulls himself up.
Naturally, the goblin, which he's supposed to be fighting, is looking at him in bewilderment. He hasn't got a sword, so he can't hurt it, but he also hasn't got an HP bar, so it can't hurt him. He stands up, dusts himself off, and then he's sprinting at the goblin. No windup, no moment of preparation. One instant he's standing up, the next he's breaking into a full sprint.
The goblin lashes out at him, but he does a perfect dive roll past it. It turns around to strike him again, but by then, (and bear with me here this is pretty dumb:) he's grinding on one of the decorative clay pots. Really twerking up a storm. Then he stops, starts going slower, in a more controlled fashion. The goblin swings it's stick at him, but when it connects, he just rockets into the sky. It's like he's got jet boots or something. He just goes straight up. Later, I see him fall down a little ways off, then he runs off into the sunset and I sure as hell ain't seen him since. | I could sort of see the new trainee pressing 'X' again. I had an urge to strangle him for his insolence, but NPCs couldn't do that. Instead, I was resolved to have my painstaking teachings ignored. I continued on in the same tone, making sure I didn't arouse any suspicion regarding my inner emotions. The tutorial ended within in a single minute, dwarfing the usual hour it took, as the trainee charged out of the tutorial building as soon as he was no longer locked in place by the tutorial. I sighed, rolling my eyes.
I'd expected that this would happen for some time, what with the increase in new and old players alike. But I'd never seen someone in such a hurry before. Were my tutorials that boring? I couldn't figure it out, so I shook my head and went back to my starting spot, espying a new player at the tutorial area. He looked at me, as I prepared to give my speech. "Welcome to..." I began, but he rudely interrupted me as he withdrew a gold-plated jeweled broadsword from his hilt.
"What on Earth are you..." I began again, stammering slightly. But the shining blade soon told me its intentions, its clear target being my abdomen. I doubled back in pain, as the playet chuckled. I could see a pile of glowing orbs and items beside me. My personal items, like my tutorial gear and my knife! I reached weakly towards the pile, but the player collected it all before I could. "No loot, such a shame. Sick XP gain though," the player muttered, walking on towards the exit. I lay, slowly bleeding out on the floor.
Hopefully I would respawn. | 2017-08-17T19:33:44 | 2017-08-17T15:58:45 | 42 | 24 |
[WP] A trenchcoated stranger has depositied a stack of hundreds on the table in front of you. He tells you that you know what to do, and vanishes into the crowd. You have absolutely no idea of what to do. | "You know what to do."
I stared as the man's black trenchcoat swooshed through the air and he turned to walk away. He was tall, with a black hat which made him look even taller, and sunglasses that only added to the weirdness of wearing a trenchcoat in the middle of the California summer.
"What the hell?"
At 20, I may have just assumed I was hallucinating from weed or alcohol poisoning or something, I don't know, I was always pretty straight-edge so I probably wouldn't have that excuse either. Yet at 50, I had even less of an excuse to explain the stack of hundred dollar bills which sat on my table.
"Well, I suppose I'll find out?"
I picked up the stack and began to walk over to my car. I thought about giving it to charity, gather some good karma, but does a few hundred really matter? They're all scams anyway!
DHUK DHUK DHUK
The car's engine wheezed and cried as I started it, but somehow, it managed to rev up like it had for the last 5 years. Could the money be meant for my car? But what kind of anti-climactic fate would that be? Surely not.
The door creaked as I closed it behind me. The house was fine, but at 50, it'd be nice to have it paid off. Only a few thousand dollars of mortgage to go. I glanced at the stack of hundreds in my hand.
"No," I decided after a minute. "It must be fate. Something greater than that!"
Just then, I got a notification on my email app. Everything seemed to be larger than life, and I stuck out my index finger to tap it as carefully and precisely as I could. But no, it'd be easier to answer emails on my computer! I fumbled my way around the big box and switched it on.
Once I'd opened Yahoo, I clicked the unread mail. The subject said: URGENT, I NEED YOU.
"Dear Michael
I am the wife of the REVEREND Pastor Francis Trunce, and I am a widow because Mt husband the REVEREND dies 2yrs ago.
Now, I am suffering from cancer disease and the doctors tell me I will going to die. I need transfer my money to you so you can continue charity in my good name and help babies in the world with my 17.5 million dollar fortunes.
I need you to transfer me $3100 by Western Union cash transfer at name attached below. I will be waiting for your response."
I couldn't believe it. I counted out the money the man had thrown my way, and it was exactly $2100. This was fate! I could pay off my house AND buy a new car, besides helping all the starving children in Africa and tipping all my servers 20%. There was no harm in just adding a thousand bucks by myself.
Luckily, my son had taught me how to do the Western Union cash transfer online, and I was done in less than 10 minutes. While waiting for the response I called my son and explained this blessing to him.
"What? What did you do, dad?!" he responded, to my surprise.
"Well, what else could so much money have been for?" I was flabbergasted.
My son mumbled something I couldn't understand, and then sighed. "Man, those scams have really evolved, haven't they?" | [poem]
He said I would know what to do
But here I am without a clue
He looked like he had malintent
So how should all this cash be spent?
..
I bought a house, it was all paid down
It was on the nicer side of town
The dealership stopped me at a skid
My dented car I'd soon be rid.
I filled the house with lots of stuff
furniture and clothing like I couldn't have enough.
..
Driving my new car one day
The blistering sun was out to stay
I saw a man alone and hot
Ragged on the street and stopped
I said "why are you here all alone?
Wouldn't you rather be home?
I'll take you back what's your address?"
He looked at me, teary eyes a mess
..
He said "ex wife's got the kids at home,
she hurts them daily, this is known
But I've got just the street to live on
Not suitable for kids I reason"
..
I knew then what the man had meant
Who left me all the cash unspent
I drove the man to his new place
I didn't need one with so much space
I gave him my new car keys too
I knew my old one for me could do
..
the bewildered man just stood agape
But I left before it got too late
For I knew what I had done was right
Just as the stranger thought I might.
I didn't need all of that stuff
What I have is just enough | 2020-09-06T05:58:40 | 2020-09-06T05:45:10 | 50 | 18 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | A man came in, he was skinny, pitiful and shaking. Xyphoriz watched in bemusement as the human nervously came over to the negotiation tables, before getting to the table when the guy stopped. He pulled a pack of something Xyphoriz recognized as the earthling primitive device called a ‘cigarette’
“Hey man,” the human started as he lit his cigarette, before the alien ambassador could speak, the human inhaled the entire fag to the butt and dropped it to the ground, pulling another from his pack and lighting it. “Sorry nervous, this is the first time we’ve been at war with... “ he motioned towards Xyphoriz. “Another species, wait no there was that time with the Emu’s... the first time an aliens been stupid enough to commit to a full on attack on our people.”
“Well we are here to listen to your terms for complete surrender” Xyphoriz replied, almost amused by the weak humans bravery, calling his people idiots would not be an insult taken lightly, he would be enslaved soon. The human laughed no longer shaking.
“Yeah, not happening” he snorted sitting down uncomfortably close. “Here is your ultimatum, cease all hostilities or my people will be forced to show you why we have to be skilled negotiators instead of warriors, and believe me when I say you don’t want the latter.”
“What can a dirty bipedal monkey like yourself really do to us? Negotiate a trade embargo against us? We’ll just take everything from you.”
“The names Brent, ok and I am not just dirty, I’m a historian. Probably the only person who can educate you on why the genocide on Kessia V was the worst decision you’ve ever made.”
This Brent was starting to intrigue the alien ambassador. Why send a historian in the place of a diplomat or even a military leader? It was strange.
“Do you know human history, Xiphoriz? Cause I know your species history, I’ve already figured out eleven ways I could have killed you since I walked in, just using your natural allergies, two of which could be exploited to genocide your people like, say” Brent paused smiling at the alien “The powered cascade massacre?”
Xyphoriz heart sank, how could the human know about that, that was a deep cut to his species history, something taboo to talk about even amongst close colleagues
“How dare you” it yelled, standing and slamming its fist, although the human still twitched, it’s demeanor didn’t change whatsoever, Brent just smiled.
“You know we humans have fought before” Brent frowned looking out into the desert outside. “Five world wars, and three interstellar ones, all against ourselves. Brought ourselves to near extinction in four of those, world war three we lost an island called Britain, it was nuked to oblivion, its neighboring island? Made into a nuclear wonderland where the fog never ended and the genetic monstrosities were genocided every couple of years. Used to Call that one Ireland...” the sorrow in Brents eyes told a tapestry of stories to Xyphoriz.
“Then there was five, we had three continents go dark, every country collapsed, we made our oceans raise a bunch and when the survivors finally came out of the woodwork, we decided to leave our blue jewel we had sullied so many times behind, to recover from our terrible temper.”
“So what you almost destroyed yourselves, now you’ve decided to destroy yourselves by refusing to give us your species for enslavement.”
“See our first interstellar war was about that, we blew up a few planets and moons in our short sighted temper, we wanted to enslave the Europans surrounding Jupiter, we shot mass drivers, killing all of them because they wouldnt submit, we then moved the shards of the shattered moon to drop on Mars because we couldn’t stand their whining, we broke the planet, we had to start a restoration project that’s still going on these thousand years later.”
“You broke two worlds where your people lived because you were mad? That was your own species.” Xyphoriz was starting to feel uneasy, these humans were brutal before their peacekeeping days.
“Oh we’ve killed ourselves for less, we had a cult once that super nova’d a star because they thought it would awaken their god, killing seven worlds and starting the second interstellar war that nearly killed every human in the galaxy.”
“How many died?”
“We stopped counting after we started our last Great War, where we destroyed our old home-world and solar system, bringing us to this desert, a planet we named in memorandum, earth, to honor the centillions of humans we slaughtered for our petty ego, a wake up call we took very seriously.” Brent set his hand on the glass.
“I hope you have reconsidered by now fighting humans, because I haven’t even told you what’ll happen to your species if you don’t cease all hostilities.” Xyphoriz looked at Brent, curious.
“What would happen?” It said.
“Well it depends, if we were able to beat you quickly and get a timely surrender, you’d just have to deal with human terrorists mass drivering you every now and then and super novaing you, now if the conflict to a bit longer because you miraculously got better at fighting then the pitiful excuse you call fighting us now. Well...”
“Well what.”
“Your species would be subjugated to human history repeating onto them.” | In this solemn hour it is a consolation to recall and to dwell upon our repeated efforts for peace. All have been ill-starred, but all have been faithful and sincere. This is of the highest moral value–and not only moral value, but practical value–at the present time, because the wholehearted concurrence of scores of millions of men and women, whose co-operation is indispensable and whose comradeship and brotherhood are indispensable, is the only foundation upon which the trial and tribulation of modern war can be endured and surmounted. This moral conviction alone affords that ever-fresh resilience which renews the strength and energy of people in long, doubtful and dark days. Outside, the storms of war may blow and the lands may be lashed with the fury of its gales, but in our own hearts this Sunday morning there is peace. Our hands may be active, but our consciences are at rest.
​
We must not underrate the gravity of the task which lies before us or the temerity of the ordeal, to which we shall not be found unequal. We must expect many disappointments, and many unpleasant surprises, but we may be sure that the task which we have freely accepted is one not beyond the compass and the strength of the Galactic Human Republic. The Prime Minister said it was a sad day, and that is indeed true, but at the present time there is another note which may be present, and that is a feeling of thankfulness that, if these great trials were to come upon our worlds, there is a generation here now ready to prove itself not unworthy of the days of yore and not unworthy of those great men, the fathers of our species, who laid the foundations of our laws and shaped the greatness of our Republic.
​
This is not a question of fighting for Mars or fighting for New Earth. We are fighting to save the whole Galaxy from the pestilence of tyranny and in defense of all that is most sacred to man. This is no war of domination or imperial aggrandizement or material gain; no war to shut any species out of its sunlight and means of progress. It is a war, viewed in its inherent quality, to establish, on impregnable rocks, the rights of the individual, and it is a war to establish and revive the stature of man. Perhaps it might seem a paradox that a war undertaken in the name of liberty and right should require, as a necessary part of its processes, the surrender for the time being of so many of the dearly valued liberties and rights. In these last few days the House has been voting dozens of Bills which hand over to the executive our most dearly valued traditional liberties. We are sure that these liberties will be in hands which will not abuse them, which will use them for no class or party interests, which will cherish and guard them, and we look forward to the day, surely and confidently we look forward to the day, when our liberties and rights will be restored to us, and when we shall be able to share them with the peoples to whom such blessings are unknown.
​
​
Full disclosure, I didn't write this, it is a lightly edited [speech given by churchill on september 3rd 1939](https://winstonchurchill.org/resources/speeches/1939-in-the-wings/war-speech/) (the first paragraph is verbatim and the rest has a few words removed or changed so it would apply to a galactic conflict as opposed to WWII) | 2019-04-19T08:32:03 | 2019-04-19T03:06:26 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] The ultimate intergalactic war ends with reality being shattered. Humans are the only species able to navigate the broken universe without falling into despair at the nonsensical nature of the new reality. Apparently they have these things called “dreams” that have trained them for this. | >**ALIENS & ALLIGATORS**
I wasn't meant to be privy to the secret meetings that the Humanity Coalition held. I was not on their war council, their secret service agencies, or even a general in their armies. I should have had no business learning about every little dirty deal and nasty secret.
Regardless, I knew more about the Intergalactic War than almost everyone else, even including most of our leaders.
For the sake of reliable communication and historical accuracy, a stenographer of sorts was required. I had that job foisted on me, even though I didn't want it.
Now, here I was, overlooking the ill-lit circular War Room, listening to the ugliest side of humankind as it spilled out.
I heard as they debated upon targets- the enemy had vulnerable hospitals and schools that could be blown up. Their supply trains of medicine and food, those were fine to attack too- but could we steal those supplies? What even *was* alien medicine? Perhaps it would be more cost-effective to just burn it.
Theft. The slaughter of innocents. I had heard every despicable word coming from the people we were supposed to look up to, and it only got worse as we began to lose. It took the better part of a decade- almost seven years, to be exact, but we were losing planetary control and key spaceports every single standard earth day.
It seemed like humanity was going to be wiped out, but I shed very few tears. I had seen what we were capable of, and it revolted me. I had recorded every sin, and I hoped we would be exposed for each one. I hoped humanity wouldn't survive. At least, not *this* humanity. Not under *these* leaders.
Finally, on what we thought would be the day humanity was due to surrender, a wicked-looking man strolled into the War Room. Every step he took made a sharp noise that echoed across the room.
Immediately, all conversation and bickering ceased, and every pair of eyes was on him.
I felt his energy. His *presence*. Every General straightened their back, and the fatigue left their eyes. Every politician looked like they were afraid of being spoken to by this...person.
I was not spiritual by any means, yet I was willing to bet my life that this was a true God of War.
"Everyone. General Roudon has apprised me of your situation. I trust you all know who I am." His dark hair was long and slicked back. His movements were precise and swift. His tone allowed no room for anyone else to speak.
By reflex, I was recording what was being said, my newly-made but old-fashioned typewriter click-clacking away.
The man's attention snapped immediately over to me. "Not another word." He warned me.
His gaze bore an intense heat, like I was being scolded by a cruel father. I put both of my hands up, trying to nonverbally signal that I would comply.
"You seem to have forgotten, ladies and gentlemen," the man orated, as though he were giving an inspiring speech, "the fundamentals of warfare." He began moving again, slowly circling around the large table which hosted all of our leaders. All eyes remained trained on him.
"You have all read books written by great warriors, I am sure. The Book of Five Rings, The Art of War, the secret diary of Genghis Kahn, yes?"
A muted mumbling of agreements came from most members around the table.
"Yet all of these writers were incomplete. They had wives, children, friends. Even Miyamoto Musashi, may his stained soul rest in peace, had favorite concubines."
Having finished his slow walk around the leaders, the man now placed himself behind me. I had a feeling he was ensuring I hadn't continued writing in secret. Feeling him standing behind me made shivers run up my spine.
"You look to your fellow humans for inspiration, yet you *should* be looking towards your apex predators, instead."
He placed one his hands on my shoulders. Though I was wearing a coat, it felt as if his hand was seeping cold into my very bones. With his other hand, he pulled free the sheet of paper upon which I had written his opening sentence.
"The Alligator, my friends. The Alligator has been almost entirely unchanged by evolution for millions of years, because it has stumbled upon the epitome of lethal hunting techniques."
His hand lifted from my shoulder, and I fought to ensure I didn't breathe a sigh of relief.
"The alligator is comfortable with solace. It doesn't mind that the meat it wishes to snack on won't be its friend. Instead, it lures its prey towards the bog, and holds the prey's head below the water, where it can simply wait for the water to do the hardest part of the work. Take your opponent into a place where *you* can breathe longer." The man now walked, with his back to me, toward the leaders once again. "If they are stronger, manufacture a favorable environment. If they are smarter, manufacture a favorable environment. If they are *winning*, flood the arena, because you *know* you can hold your breath longer than they can. Wash away every difference in wit and skill and strength, and make it a competition of *endurance*. One you know you can win."
No one dared to speak, only nod along to the man's suggestions.
"No one wants to ask 'how can we do this'?"
I could hear the smile in his voice. It was lopsided, cruel.
"I happen to have come prepared with an answer, but you must *promise me*," he said, the last two words sung in a musical tone, "that you will enact it immediately. No if, no and, no but, you do what I say and you do it *now*."
I began to wonder if our leaders were in a trance, the way they nodded along.
"I have...discovered something, about the aliens. To keep it very, very simple, the aliens do not *dream*. They have no concept of the *other* realm. So, we introduce a little of the *other* realm into your realm, this realm, and we simply endure a few strange months while they endure *losing their Gods-damn minds!*" A note of excitement had begun to creep in.
I had seen enough talks by charismatic, evil leaders. People like Hitler, Stalin. This man knew exactly what he was doing. He was maneuvering himself to be their saving grace, at their darkest hour. He was inspiring fanaticism in the Coalition. If he wasn't already in charge, he was certainly *becoming* the de facto leader.
--------------------------------------------------
**Splitting into a Pt.II because word cap! Pt.II will be below!** | The ship filled with red light. Who the hell had came out of cryo? Why now? A sound started but faded into the distance. That wasn't good; it meant the interstellar Break was happening, and worse, he felt wide awake.
Pete strapped himself into the chair, and activated the neural navigator. Whatever had happened, it was too late; it would have to be dealt with after. He's have to trust the ships intelligence to sort it out.
Pete felt himself and the body of the ship become one. His arms as pylons stretched as the solar winds brushed across. His sails bellowed out and water sprayed over the decks. Ah classic, the mindscape of an ocean. Excellent, this made it much easier to navigate, at least at the start. More worrying were the stormclouds on the horizon, which Pete hoped were manifestations of the ships alarms, and would stay away.
He enjoyed this part. The salt in the air, and the water on his face. The physical sensation turned him into the figurehead of the ship; his arms going from fixed at his side to coming loose; allowing his arm to be outstretched pulling himself along. Pulling that arm in and outstretching another, he was in the water swimming. Kicking the slightly rough sea threw him around. Something was pulling at his leg.
A crack of thunder slammed overhead, and the world darkened. Rising waves loomed impossibly high, swirling into monsters and spray. Something struck his face; the neural link flew into the deep. The waves manifested into a nightmare of a figure, eight feet tall, razor sharp teeth, metallic skin and a red eye, a Krocatian. Their eight limbs crashes into foam and blood as red lightning lit the sea for a second and sirens thundered.
Roak, his name was Roak. He was the second in command of the ship. What the hell was he doing. How, this had to be part of the Break. Roak rolled over the chair and the wind howled as another reptilian arm crested throwing Pete out of the chair.
He flew through the air for a second, a bulkhead coming closer, and closer. He seemed to half how close he was, then again, and again. Time slowed as the distance reduced. Until time stopped as he was impossibly close to a wall that stretched out to infinity. The impact would be now. It had to happen. This was the end. Maybe this is what death was, it was the last moment of your life stretched out to infinity, in that last instance to keep the souls alive. A way to fight against the infinite void of nothing.
He touched his eye, he could move it. He forced himself to move both of his eyes, and focus. Pete followed the wall into the distance, and flew along watching it extend out. Behind him rushing water crashed and rose in a cresting wave tearing and heaving. The wave reached out for him pleading. It was going to get him, to smash him against this wall. Pete flew higher, and watched the wall retreat, leaving the water behind to helplessly sag. The wall turned into a sphere, it was never infinite. It was a planet, a green marble on the edge of spacetime, endlessly spinning.
Pete felt his sense of reality coming back to him. "Normal space reached" computer voice chimed, Pete fell asleep.
The headset was pulled off him, and he was thrown into bright light and shapes. The Captain, and several other crewmembers he'd never met. The Captain stood five feet, covered head to single foot in blue scales, and hovered about a foot off the ground. "Are you ok Navigator Pete?" Came her voice.
"I'm fine." Pete protected himself from the light as his eyes adjusted "A but rougher than normal, but I got us through."
The Captain looked at the other people on the bridge. A shape formed into a medic walked over and started scanning. Pete's eyes adjusted. The bridge was covered in greenish silver blood. It was all over every console and bulkhead. Against the viewscreen was a body, of a Krocatian. They lacked several arms, and they were missing their eyes. A silver foam was leaking from their mouth.
"You have my apologies Navigator. The black box has Lt. Roak coming out of Cryo as we entered the Broken. They made a video log, and sent it to me upon waking telling me they though they could navigate. It's not worth going into the details. I believe he attacked you."
Pete felt his own face, and small amounts of red blood stained his fingers. There was a trail of blood heading over to a bulkhead, with a human footprint on the wall.
Pete pinched himself. | 2022-02-10T15:57:47 | 2022-02-10T15:23:49 | 234 | 47 |
[WP] It is discovered that Possession works both ways and now we can have some payback. Demons of the underworld are now suffering under multiple cases of Humanic Possession. | The somber Hellpriest straightened his leather straps, attempting to look professional before using the heavy brass knocker on Lilith's door. This was the third case this week and he was feeling rundown. Can't let it show though, these demons have been through enough. First, he had to try and help. After this call, he'd go home, torture Steve or maybe Carol, drink their blood and just crash. Tomorrow would be another day.
Lilith opened the door, her usual vision of tempting lust. The Hellpriest found himself nodding in approval. Succubi are always beautiful but there was always a certain level of variance. Lilith was looking especially enticing. Surely any human male to see her like that would immediately damn himself. It's good to see she was keeping a strong gameface through all this. He'd seen others handle it with less poise.
"Thank you for coming Zenalth." She said in the sultry whisper of hers.
"Of course Lilith, is Azanaer still...afflicted?"
She definitely wavered on that. The mask of brooding lust flickered and the edges of her perfect lips creased ever so slightly. That was answer enough for Zenalth, Azanaer remained infected. He would have to be careful.
"Take me to him immediately, then."
Lilith led him past a perfectly normal looking torture chamber and through a few dank stone hallways. The screams of the damned echoed pleasantly in every chamber. Their lair seems to be quite filthy and depressing. Again Zenalth had to marvel at how remarkable a demon Lilith was. Truly an impressive woman, besieged by misfortune.
Lilith stopped in front of an unassuming stone door, now she was shaking in a way undermined her usual confidence. It was clear that she intended to go no further. Zenalth could understand that, she'd probably seen too much already. Before entering the room, he got the basics.
"How long has he been like this?"
"About three days. At first, he was just listless. I thought maybe he was burned out y'know? Don't get me wrong, Az loves the work. The torture, the rape, the whole thing. But sometimes you need a change you know? I was thinking maybe he wanted to try transferring to Faustian bargains. I would have been fine with that! I always try to be supportive. But then..."
"Then he started talking in a voice that wasn't his?" Zenalth prompted.
Lilith's perfect black orbs began to well up with blood. She was truly distraught. "Yes, about the most inane things! He started talking about Hot Pockets and "Karma", but not like universal balance karma. He was talking about some kind of score! It was all just nonsense."
Zenalth tried to comfort her by sneering menacingly at her pain. She seemed emboldened by that, and continued on.
"Then he got that damned laptop. He hasn't moved in 48 hours! He won't torture, or kill anything. He wouldn't even fuck me! He kept rambling on about Red Pills and power plays or some bullshit. He's like some harmless fungus person! The only time he even gets mad anymore is at someone named Opie. He just...exists now. That's not the demon I bloodbound myself too Zenalth. It just isn't!"
Zenalth made a sharp intake of of breath. A Redditor, damn. He would have to move fast.
"Take me to him."
| I fought the demon's mental barriers one by one, grasping their chaotic form and bending them into the stable shapes of the Solomon Keys I had spent the last three years studying.
Eventually I came to the last one, this one was far more complex but bore within it the signature of it's name.
IT railed and cried, and screamed and attempted to bat me back by imagining every horror it would do to me and then projecting it in hi def into my own mind.
But I swept those horrific images aside as if turning down the volume of a commercial on the TV and resumed my onslaught against it's defenses. One by one I untangled the secret script of it's lines and loosened his grip on them enough for them to freely resume their natural shape.
As the last three lines locked into place the entire thing hummed with a beautiful signing resonance that I knew meant the Key had succeeded. At that moment I reached out and turned it with my mind even as I spoke the name aloud into it's mind.
It suddenly became as docile as a hindu cow and all thrashing ceased.
It now had me on it's back, whispering into it's ear, guiding its movement and voices.
This had been my intent all along, after reading the possibilities preserved in stone, and hinted at in the grimoire I had found buried beneath it, knowledge of old things wrought by the vengeful righteous...knowledge that included how demons could be destroyed.
"Now, creature," I told it coldly "silence your mewlings, we have work to do. I intend to become the Scourge of Hell before this night is through."
... | 2015-01-02T07:11:35 | 2015-01-02T06:37:36 | 501 | 12 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | "So, about the humans..." Said a voice with diplomatic neutrality.
Groans from a myriad of different species' voices could be heard throughout the conference hall. There was a meeting being held on how to properly welcome these new, strange creatures now that they had, technically, at least, achieved Faster Than Light travel.
"We organised this meeting to discuss them! When are you all going to stop pussyfooting around the issue!?" The same voice declared, with a level of anger hard to believe considering their tone mere seconds ago.
"Blarpart, I know you're a workaholic and all that but have you SEEN these...creature's form of FTL "travel"?" A gruff voice from somewhere in the hall responded over the din of arguing and groans of "are we really fucking doing this?"
"I agree that it's...unconventional but-"
The word "unconventional" being used to describe human beings' method of intergalactic travel caused an uproar among the crowd.
"Hey! HEY! HEYYYYYY!" Interjected Blarpart with an odd mixture of rage, impatience and exhaustion. "It works for them, who are we to judge?"
"Don't you get it? They use possibly the most unstable thing in the universe, a wormhole, and pump it with a load of who knows what to make it last more than a nanosecond and to a greater size than a few atoms and just *sigh* go through it and hope for the best"
"As I said, uncon-" Blarpart thought better of using *that* word again and instead chose to deflect the conversation in the hopes of finishing and grabbing something from a Space Denny's on the way home.
"Ok, how about we just ignore them? They're not going to last long as a species if THAT'S how they traverse space. From our observations, their 'wormhole jumping' has about an 80% chance of failure. All in favour?"
A chorus of relieved "aye"s reverberated throughout the room.
"All opposed?"
...
"Well then, that settles i-"
"YOU FUCKING WOT, M8?" A voice shouted from just outside the hall.
"Can I go without being interrupted for ONE MINUTE?" Blarpart said in an exasperated sigh.
And with that, a duo of humans, one tall with brown hair and the other short with black hair, burst into the hall with their bottles of what they call "Mountain Dew" and bags of "Doritos" and started going on about how we can't "diss" them like that.
"You know what? Fuck these alien squares, wanna go piss into a black hole?" The taller one said.
"Yeah, dude. Definitely." The shorter one replied with an almost endearing level of excitement at the prospect.
And with that, the duo left as quickly as they had entered.
"What just happened?" A member of the crowd ask with a disbelieving tone.
"...Humanity. Humanity happened" said Blarpart, with yet another sigh.
Spelling and removing the pretentious "fin". | Trendsetti was looking at the report on the testing of forward-pushed wormhole system, and he wasn't happy.
On paper, FPWS should have been perfect. A space ship does a couple of certain calculations about its destination, sends the results into its Yadari-Futara particle launcher, fires a reversed Yadari particle projectile from it in destination's general direction, and the projectile goes on its way and creates a wormhole for the FTL travel.
In practice, it turned out to work just fine. The downside, as the report states, is that physical objects don't like it when the projectile goes through them, something Yadari and Futara apparently overlooked. Apparently, when the projectile, basically a kind of a miniature black hole, makes a contact with a physical object (say, an alien race's space ship with the emperor of that entire alien race currently on board), the object gets this nasty desire to collapse into itself and blow up (something that alien race is most certainly not going to like).
Trendsetti thought it was funny. Mankind wanted to find a way to travel faster than light but accidentally invented a superweapon instead. Too bad they're probably going to have to use it as such very soon. | 2017-03-31T10:44:01 | 2017-03-31T08:44:19 | 31 | 16 |
[WP] Fallen angel is a pretty popular trope in fiction. But I want to hear about Ascended Demons. Demons that were too good/ kind/ pious for the underworld and managed to break out. | I flicked my cigarette on the old, worn carpet and twisted it out with the sole of my shoe. I hated to waste it, but the man I needed to see wasn't a smoker. Not anymore, at least, and I didn't want to annoy him. Not while I needed his advice. I hesitated a moment before knocking, almost wishing he would not answer. "Don't be such a coward," I told myself before using my knuckles to rap on the wooden door.
The door opened and there he was. "You are the one who called me then?" he asked me. I nodded, and he opened the door and turned away without a word. I stepped through and closed the door behind me. The main living area was sparsely furnished, with a couple of chairs and a sofa. My host waved me to the sofa.
"Do you want a coffee?" he asked.
"Sure," I said, "cream. No sugar." We didn't speak while he poured a cup for each of us, stirred in my cream and walked it over to me. He sat across from me, tilting his head slightly as if considering me. I felt like he was looking through me, into me deeply, almost like a predator considers its prey.
"So," he finally said, "tell me. How did you end up here and why come to me?"
I considered for a moment. "It began when the deal with the devil showed me he could be outwitted," I began.
"My deal?" he asked.
"Yes. Your deal. Your deal showed that as powerful as Lucifer is he could be outwitted. Until then, I really never had any hope. When that girl, that poor child, was released, a seed was planted in me. I had hope, for the first time in eternity, that maybe I could get out too," I explained, although I was pretty sure he already knew all of this.
"Big difference between a human soul and a demon," he offered.
"Sure. I know. I know exactly what I am. Still, hope is funny that way. Once you have it, you begin to look for ways to make a difference. It began with some souls that arrived in hell, and by the rules belonged there, but were really just hurting. Suicides. Kids," I said. Damn, I really wanted a smoke. Fidgeting slightly, I continued.
"So I began to collect them, and try and protect them from the others. A few at first. The most needy. The ones with the worst pain who, except for that stupid rule, would have gone to heaven instead. I closed off an area of the netherworld and refused to let my fellow demons near them. That worked for a while, but it was pretty clear that the Boss was taking notice and didn't like it. Then, I saw my chance to help," I sipped my coffee, and focused on his eyes. They were boring into me as if he could sear the truth from me.
"I found a way to get here, although then it was temporary. I couldn't stand the light then. None of us can, you know. But at night? When it is darkest? I could sneak out for a few minutes," I signed and leaned back. "So I did."
"Who was your first?" he asked.
"A kid. An eleven year old Hispanic kid that was ready to shoot himself. When I showed up suddenly, he dropped the gun in fear. You know how it is. A demon appears, in their hell form, and people piss themselves. Anyway, I talked to him. Explained how it really was. Told him what waited, but also what a difference he could make, if he went to the right people. To you." I had wondered about that decision, but I really didn't know anyone else who would believe the kid and still want to help.
"Yeah, he was shaken up alright. He's good now. New home, new family. So that was the first?" he asked me, setting his coffee cup down and leaning forward.
"Yeah. The first. Honestly, it felt, well, weird. In a good way. I had defied the rules of hell, defied the Devil, and saved one life. Then I did it again. And again. So many now," I sighed again, then drank the remaining coffee before setting my cup down too. "It was on the last one I realized how much this had changed me."
"How did you figure it out? I mean," he asked curiously, "how did you realize you were no longer bound to the rules that force demons to stay in hell?"
"Like I said. That last one. We spoke for so long that I hadn't realized the sun was up. She mesmerized me, such a beautiful soul who had been treated so ugly. She promised to come see you?" It was more of a question than a statement. He nodded.
"She did," was all he said.
"Well, when the sun shone into the room and I was still there, no pain, no smoke, that was when I knew I didn't have to return. I was able to create this human form with what little demon power I had left, and decided the time had come for me to do what I told all of them to do. Come and see you. Find a new life. Tell me, Mr. Constantine, does a demon have a soul? Can I find a meaning and purpose beyond what I was created to be?" This was where I expected him to say "hell no, and die" or words to that affect.
He hesitated. "I don't know. I am confident that this has never happened before, that no demon has ever helped people like you have, or done it so often, so selflessly that they were able to break out of hell. Honestly, I am not sure I can even call you a demon anymore. You are something...in between, I think."
A door opened behind him, and a young woman came out. Clearly she had just woken up but when she saw me, she smiled and ran over, giving me a hug.
"Thank you," she whispered, "for saving my life."
Tears rolled down my cheeks, to my utter astonishment. I hugged her back, and whispered, "You are worth it."
I turned to my host. "Everyone in hell knows who John Constantine is. The man who beat the devil, defied hell and is a servant of heaven. I am sorry if I added to your burden, but I have to ask. Will you help me? I don't know what to do," I pleaded as the young woman sat next to me, and took my hand in hers.
"If I can," he said slowly, "I will help. I have a suspicion that you won't need too much from me. I can get you some ID, help you get a job, perhaps with a suicide prevention group, and that sort of thing. We both know that the devil will try and retaliate. You are no longer of hell, but not of heaven either."
"What does that make me, then?" I wondered.
"Human," the girl holding my hand said. "Humans are of neither place until death, so that makes you human. And my friend."
John Constantine smiled. He pulled a cell phone from his coat and dialed a number. "He's coming to you," was all he said when the other person answered.
"Let's go," he said as he stood. "I have a friend who can test that theory, and if true, it will be the second time in my life I have helped kick the devil in the ass. I would really enjoy that."
"How?" I whispered anxiously.
"Sandy, get your coat. You are coming too, as a witness," Constantine stood over me, sympathy etched in his face for the pain displayed in mine. "I don't know if this will work, but it will tell us something. You believe in God. You believe in heaven. And now, just perhaps, you may even be human as Sandy suggested."
I stood. "So, where are we going? What will this test be?" I really wanted to pass it. I wanted to be free of hell forever.
"Church," he replied. "We are going to see if the Rite of Baptism will work on you. If it does, you are human. If it doesn't, well, let's hope it does."
With that he walked to the door and swung it wide open. Uncertain, but hopeful still, I followed, with Sandy once again holding my hand. | “Don’t you ever get the feeling that, well, this is all a bit extreme?” Alice frowned as she struggled to conjure the right words.
Darren, who had been heating up a large metal poker in the brimstone lined river of fire, gave her a raised eyebrow, and then looked at the human locked in the wooden stockade. The poor man was made to watch, bent over, as Darren let the poker turn from dull black to an angry orange-red.
Seemingly satisfied, Darren held the poker up to his face and said, “I think I know what you mean. I wish we could get assigned something other than hot poker duty.” He gestured toward Alice with the poker. “Bed of nails, getting to walk all over their backs as they scream… now that would be a good change of pace.”
“No,” Alice held the bridge of her nose, annoyed to feel the grit of ash between her fingers. The stuff was everywhere down here. “What could this guy have done to deserve a poker up the…” She cringed as the human’s face turned white.
“Come on, Alice!” Darren rammed the poker into the bedrock so that it stood upright. “That’s my favorite part, telling them what’s about to happen, and then drawing it out. You know that!”
Faraway screams, as much of the background noise as the bubbling lakes of lava or the sizzle of tears on hot brimstone, filled the silence between her and Darren.
He crossed his arms and looked down at the cooling poker. “Okay, if you don’t like this—an eternal favorite and tradition—what do *you* think we could do?”
“How about…” Alice hurried forward. The man’s hair was in disarray and had fallen over his eyes. She brushed it to the side and then took one of his captured hands into hers. She then slapped at his wrist, not too hard, but enough to cause the human to wince. “See, the discomfort it causes.”
Her coworker’s eyes narrowed as his mouth parted slightly. “A literal slap on the wrist?”
“I know. Very meta, right?” Alice’s eyes widened. “Or this!” She turned her back to the human’s face so that her large black wings brushed against the tip of his nose and cheeks.
“At this rate, they’ll never get the pain reward,” Darren said, exasperation dragging his red shoulders down.
“Pain reward?” The human asked, his voice trembling as his eyes darted between the two demons.
“Quiet, that’s not for you to know about. Blessit, Alice, now we’ve got to file a Q-22 with DR.” Darren kicked at the stuck poker in the ground.
“You’re the one who mentioned it,” Alice shot back. “And so what if he never receives his pain reward? There has to be another way for him to be reincarnated. What if we were to just, I don’t know, take him back up to the realm ourselves?”
Though she tried to make it sound like she’d just thought it up, Alice had been thinking of this for centuries. Why did they have to torture someone until they could earn another life, another chance to go to the ‘Other Place’. Wouldn’t it be easier, and nicer, to guide them back?
“Oh Satan, why do I always get stuck with the crazy ones?” Darren buried his face in a black clawed hand. His curled horned pulsed and Alice felt a bit of shame to cause him such obvious grief. Her own horns began to throb from the guilt. “You want to take this human with you, and get yourself fired—or worse—go ahead.” Darren gritted his teeth and pulled the poker out of the brimstone and pointed at the human and then her. “But I’m not getting passed up for another promotion because you have your tail in a twist.”
Alice took the human’s hand in hers and played her thumbs over his open palms. Her nails drew blood and a hiss of pain from the man. In a flash of insight like the striking of Hell’s Bells in a closed room, her head filled with a thousand memories, all clanging in her mind.
With a gasp she stepped back. Alice snatched the poker from Darren and shoved the still red tip through the man’s open mouth until it came out the back of his neck. His head dropped, but only a few inches until the back end of the poker caught on the stockade with a dull thunk.
“I thought you were going to save him,” Darren said in a bored way. “Now he’s going to have go through this all again.”
“I saw his sins.” She shuddered at the images of those poor people, kept in cages, naked and starved, at the hands of people like this human. Millions of them made to suffer just because they have a religion that doesn’t fit with the Party’s dogma. Their places of worship bulldozed over, their many histories wiped clean, as if the humanity of a million people were nothing but old rubble.
*Even demons wouldn’t treat humans like that*, Alice thought, *soft-hearted like me or not*.
“Well,” Darren said pulling the poker free. “Get ready for more like him. The world up there would rather have cheap knickknacks than clean consciences. Oh, don't look so surprised. You don't have to slice their palms anymore, it's all in their file."
He placed the poker in her hands. She could still feel the heat left inside the metal… or was it from clenching so tight? Alice wasn’t sure. Her horns were really aching now. What was she to do? She wanted to help the worthy humans find a second chance, but she also wanted to punish those that deserved it.
“I’ll stay,” she said. “But if I find a human that deserves a second chance, I’m helping them.”
Darren laughed. “Good luck with that.”
“You don’t think I could reach the realm?” she asked.
“That, I think is possible.” Darren pulled the lever to have the next human brought in. “But finding a worthy soul… there’s a reason why they’re sent here. It’s not like their biggest sin is sticking gum under a library table.”
Alice nodded, but she knew she’d find someone worthy. Even if it was just one person over the next eternity, she would make sure to save them. Not all could be as bad the last human, could they? She shivered from the memory of the cages.
Then the idea hit her. Darren was right, this place only attracted monsters. If she wanted to help the worthy, she’d need to travel up to the realm, alone, and fight the monsters there. For the first time in a long time, Alice felt a lightness in her horns and tingle of excitement course through her wings.
“I quit,” she said, and stuck the poker into the fire. When she pulled it out, the heat from the tip set the air surrounding it on fire. She aimed it at a nearby wall of stone and shot a sphere of swirling flame. It exploded on contact sending tendrils of fire in all directions.
*Yes*, she thought as she spread her wings. *This’ll work just fine*. | 2019-11-08T07:00:07 | 2019-11-08T06:57:55 | 2,220 | 61 |
[WP] You are a low-level henchman that just killed James Bond. What now? | "Shit, shit. This is bad."
"What do you mean? I thought this was what we were trying to do?"
"No! What? No! Why do you think we miss so much? You could sink a battleship with just the weight of the lead we've thrown at this guy. We weren't actually trying to *hit* him!"
"Why not? He was trying to hit us. He shot Jeff!"
"Jeff is fine."
"What?"
"Yeah, he wasn't actually hit. He just rolled over the railing into the water."
I turned to see where my compatriot was indicating, and I saw Jeff. He was soaking wet, but unscathed. He waved with one hand, holding a towel in his other.
"But he was going to foil our boss's plan!" I insisted.
"Do you even know what the plan is? It's a terrible plan! I don't want that shit to happen, none of us do. That's why we don't shoot at Bond."
"Why do you work for the boss if you don't want him to succeed?"
"Well, whatever you think of the guy, he's a legitimate genius. If he didn't have help, he'd act alone, and probably with a lot more success."
"You're all traitors." I glowered.
My compatriot sighed, and another minion rolled his eyes. In fact, everyone seemed exasperated with me.
"Here," my compatriot handed me his iPhone, "Actually read the goddamn plan."
Reluctantly, I took the device and scrolled through the document.
"See that bit? That's an orbital EMP satellite. I hope you don't like watching internet porn, because the instant that thing goes off, so does your computer. Oh, oh, and this bit!" He pointed to another area of the screen, "That will set off a supervolcanic eruption. You think the government is going to pay to prevent that? They all have bunkers. That's why they sent Bond to stop us. They have no intention of paying the world's ransom."
"Oh my god." I began to feel sick, like a lump was sitting deep in my stomach, "What do we do?"
"We're going to have to put a stop to this ourselves."
I picked up the tiny Walther PPK that lay on the grating.
"Alright. Let's save the world." | *I did it. I really did it. He's... No he's definitely not moving... Really?*
*Wait... his phone is ringing. Who the hell brings a cell phone with a ring tone on a spy mission? Maybe I can get some intel from whoever's on the other end...*
Beep.
"James?"
*Oh, shit...* "Yes?" *I can't do a British accent if my life depended on it...*
"Hmm, I see. Congratulations, Mr. Zvikas, or should I say, Mr. Bond..." | 2014-05-19T10:53:29 | 2014-05-19T09:05:56 | 85 | 22 |
[WP] You're a powerful demon who's been locked away by an artifact for thousands of years. Some mortal fool has finally found it...and it's a sweet old lady. You really don't know how to decline all the offers of food and cookies and other help. | "I ate her heart."
She smiles sweetly at me, a frown playing faintly across her brow as she mouths the words silently back at me. "Oh, umm, yes?"
"Her heart." My frown mirrors her own now as I raise my voice. "I ate," I raise my hand to my mouth in a feeding gesture, "her heart."
"Oh, are you hungry, dear?" She raises her eyebrows at me. She smells like soap and... a flower. Something unfamiliar to me. She moves to get up, her joints creaking under the weight of her years.
"No, I mean, her heart. Her soul." I hold my hand out to still her, taking grasp of her own. Her skin feels like a cool fabric, velvet stretched over ice.
"Whose bowl?" A crease forms between her watery eyes. "I have a lamb shank in the freezer. Harold use to love his lamb."
"Soul, her soul. I... how long as that lamb been in your freezer? Don't eat that." I shake my head, the long horns twisting majestically above me swaying. "Carol, from number 92. You demanded her soul?"
"Why do you have Carol's bowl? Not the glass one," she smacks her lips, "from Turkey. She always has such lovely Turkish delight." She brightens with childlike wonder, erasing the years on her face. "We went to Turkey once, Harold and I." She drifts away with the memory.
"Mary, why did you summon me?" I squeeze her hand, still in my own. She smiles at the tactile gesture, her milky pupils shining as she searches around my face. I realise she can never find my eyes.
"Such a good boy for visiting." She pats my arm with her free hand. "I'm sorry I burnt the casserole. Carol would be so angry if she knew I was cooking, she made me promise I would stop." She turns her head towards the kitchen, where the acrid smoke from my summoning spell has stained the wooden doorframe a foul yellow. She nods as she considers something. "I have a lamb shank in the freezer."
I make a mental note to throw away the lamb. "Shall I make you a nice cup of tea, Mary?"
She nods, smiling sweetly again. "Such a good boy." | Thank you ma'am but, I really don't need anymore cookies. I need to go lead my army of souls!
What's that? Hush, you look starved to death, how long has it been since you ate?
Welllll, just a little over a ten thousand years.
Well see then, you need some more cookies then, to get your energy up! Or maybe a pie?
Oooh, maybe taking the souls of men can wait a little longer. | 2016-04-16T12:00:30 | 2016-04-16T02:56:05 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] The twin gods take a mortal spouse every thousand years. One twin gives rise to the next Champion of Light, the other to the next Champion of Dark. Their children fight, and whoever wins reigns for a thousand years. You've just killed both Champions in fair combat. | **Constructive criticism is welcome!**
---
I stared down at the body of my oldest friend.
I had killed Cahya first, in fair combat. I had loved Duana slightly more and had put off going after her for as long as I could. I think Cahya had known and forgiven me for it. He had smiled brilliantly at me at the end, as proud and shining as ever.
I could still hear the words he had whispered when my sword had cleaved through his armour, and into his heart.
“Thank you.”
The soldiers had just watched, dull-eyed as his body had fallen to the ground. They had also seen too much fighting. They had also been beaten down by the whims of the gods.
Both armies, once thousands of soldiers strong, had been decimated. Now, even combined, they barely numbered a thousand.
Duana had made no pretence of wanting to die. She was the one who had told me of the loophole, and of her inability to end the war.
“One of us will have to die at the hands of the other,” she had whispered under the cover of darkness, just before I had taken the oath to become their killer. “Or both of us will have to die by another. It’s the only way to end the war.”
The light had bled away from her eyes as I watched. But, it had seemed as though she had been smiling in her own, soft, secretive way.
I could only stare down impassively. Her body lay next to Cahya’s now, the similarities between them more apparent now than they had been when they had been alive. Back then, it had been easier to see the differences.
The soldiers shuffled restlessly around me. Eventually, one spoke up hesitantly.
“My lady? Your orders?”
I looked up. I had forgotten. A Champion’s army would pass to their killer on the event of their death. I controlled both armies now.
The hardy soldiers flinched when they saw my face. I wondered what they saw. All I felt was… numbness.
“Go home,” I said finally. My voice sounded inhumanly flat, even to my ears. “Go back to your families in peace.”
Within moments, I was alone but for the bodies of my friends.
To the world they had been the Champions. Cahya, the Champion of Darkness, and Duana, the Champion of Light. Just more Champions, in a long, long line of Champions. Champions who had led armies to their deaths, just as the others had.
I wondered if anyone else could remember the people underneath. I wondered if anyone else remembered Cahya’s spirit, bright enough to shine in even the deepest of darkness, or Duana’s intelligence, sharp enough to cut through even the most blinding of lights.
They had both watched with sorrow as I had traded away my emotions to become the Champion of Balance. I wondered, not for the first time, if that was because they were scared to lose me… or scared that I would lose the memories of who they had been.
---
*If you liked this story, please check out my subreddit at r/YarnsToTell.* | Every year the twin brother gods made a champion, each century alternating between one making a champion of light and the other making a champion of dark, and then vice versa a century later. Their champions would fight, and then whoever won would rule for that century.
Their two champions were facing off against each other, each carrying a broadsword longer than they were tall, one’s glowing with a bright golden sunlight, the other glowing with a dark eldritch energy. They started to fight, sword colliding with sword, fighting each other to the death.
Suddenly, the dark champion clutched his chest, fingers wrapped around the arrow lodged in his chest. A second later, the light champion did the same. They both coughed, and collapsed. Then their respective lights jumped from their weapons to their corpses, while I unstringed my bow, before the heat radiating from it jumped from the bow to me, and I lost consciousness.
The dark soldier rose first. “Who the he—I mean, uh…”
The light soldier pushed himself to his feet. “Oh. Uh, hey Mum.”
I glared at the both of them. “How many times do I have to tell you two to share your toys instead of fighting over them all the time?
| 2018-03-31T03:53:09 | 2018-03-31T00:27:34 | 87 | 27 |
[WP] After death, you find out that you can choose how and when to be reincarnated. Initially eager to be a futuristic human, you soon realize that every (more experienced) soul ahead of you in line is choosing to be a "worm" in the year 121 million BCE. | "We don't forget. That's the problem, you see?"
The man? Woman? Thing? next to me seemed to smile, but even that was not clear. It was more a feeling building up inside me, the same feeling I might have had, had someone smiled warmly at me. Words felt like they had formed briefly before, a quick memory of something that had just happened.
"So you do one or two or ninethousand of those reincarnations. Into all eternity. Some are fun, I once met a guy who was a famous ruler or something. But most aren't. Most are messy, dirty, violent. No matter the century, the day, even the hour, you'll have a higher chance of coming back to a life as someone or something experiencing pain than a ruler."
It began to make sense. I remembered everything from my past life. The one I had had, my first, from the looks of this. My youth, that first kiss, many things I'd forgotten in life, they all were there, clear as day. Six candles on the altar when my mother died. Nine people in the first row during the baptism of my second child, the one that died of cancer nineteen years later. Nineteen years, six months, twelve days, four hours, nine minutes and sixteen seconds later. I remembered everything. In absolute clarity. And it hit me as if it had just happened.
I felt waves of profound sadness wash over me. I did not cry, and I wasn't sure if I could. But I felt that the person next to me felt my emotions as well.
"See, that's the thing. You'll experience all this. Every time you're here. Only way to forget is to reincarnate, to seek out a new life. But, of course, you'll form new memories plus those you had before. And when you come back, your stack grows. Some go positively crazy in here, seek out random places, all to add some happy to the sad. It rarely works. And it will make you sadder and sadder."
"What can I do?" I tried to speak, but it didn't work. Yet, for some reason he knew what I'd asked.
"Go worm. Seriously. There's one 121 million BCE that has an amazing lifespan and basically just sits there. It has no frontal cortex, so it forms few memories and those are mostly positive like eating and a warm summer day. You don't have much of a choice what you get reincarnated as, but it has to be somewhere on your original lineage. Something with a soul or the beginning of one. Sorry, oak tree is unfortunately out. Most animals, too, if they split off the human lineage before souls were introduced. That's all of them, sadly, the ones that went extinct before didn't have that great of a life, either. So, worm. Last happy soul bearing thing."
"When do I have to decide?"
"There is no time here, so you can't take all the time you need. But whenever you're ready, you'll go. I don't know how this works, but..."
"So, worm?"
"Sure, you have infinite tries, give it a shot."
I thought about it. Decided to try it.
The "world" went black. A strange feeling.
And then white again. I was back, just like that. I still remembered my daughter's death. My mother's funeral. But there was something else. A warm ray of sun one day that was just right, not too hot to burn me and not too cold to immobilize me. And more glycosides in the water that made me feel ready to bud off and become two. Moments ago, it had felt like the deepest pit of sadness and pain. It still did, only a little less.
Worm it was. At least until the simple happiness of a ray of sunshine drowned out the deep sadness of burying your own child. | It seemed almost paradoxical in a way, Jarod thought. Why would anyone want to experience a mundane life of dirt and decomposition over the wondrous advancements of the future? To opt against a post first-contact society?
Perhaps the more experienced souls had already seen all there was to life, and simply grown old and tired of it, preferring the mindlessness of an undeveloped creature from eras past. But... something felt off. Surely the future was infinite, and there could be no end to the experiences one might be curious to see?
Jarod took much time contemplating the potential reasonings behind such a choice, and could only come to one conclusion. For whatever reason, they wanted to create as much potential for a new series of timelines, because somewhere down the line, there must be an inevitable event they want to avoid by going farther and farther back, disrupting the course of history moving forward via butterfly effect. With this in consideration, he still had to make a choice..
——————————————————
It was a brief, yet surprisingly brutal life Jaida led. From confinement at birth, persecution for the crimes of humanity against the *Xi’Uqr Union of Stars*, and casually violent end at the hands of a DGE officer who found her after shortly after escape from the Union’s highest security prison planet. A grudge against the people that nearly caused the extinction of a dozen Union species, and collapsed the host star of their capital system, is not likely to ever be forgiven.
——————————————————
Upon returning to the void, and being offered the choice of reincarnation again, Jaida answered immediately. If the sheer number of souls opting for such an early point in evolutionary history was any clue, nothing could likely be done to reroute humanity from the abominable path it lead, and the only salvation would be the alteration of evolution to change what they would eventually become, or to prevent their emergence entirely.
=============================
First time making a response to a prompt. It was kind of short term inspiration so if anything doesn’t seem like it came out right, please share <3
I enjoy world-building ideas and I’d love to get better | 2021-02-06T04:20:08 | 2021-02-06T01:44:20 | 249 | 118 |
[WP] You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers. You are a laughinstock, that is until you start using your power for evil... no one is laughing now. | I was the odd case. Everyone has super powers, nobody knows why, even the people with super intelligence as a power can't figure it out. There really is no way to observe it. Which is why I am so different.
Everyone has a power, it sort of just come, like puberty or growth spurts. What can I say, we solved the energy problem in the world, explored the galaxies but we have no more information on our own anatomy than when Homo sapiens sapiens first evolved into Homo sapiens superior, more than five hundred years ago. But it never happened to me. My power never came, and it's not like I have a power that's super lame, like that one guy who can manipulate the smell around him on that reality TV show. No, I have no power at all.
I actually had a TV show too, everyone wants to see the kid without power, it's so barbaric, so backwards. The government agency came by to check out what's going on, they didn't conclude anything and they left. Entire generation of academics spent nearly hundred years trying to crack the sapien superiors source of power, and nothing came of it, so everyone just brush it off if some strange power thing occurred. And eventually the show was canceled, there is only so much one can film about a teenager that disappears and sneaks around a lot. At a certain point people started to feel real bad about me, and reality TV is for entertaining, not for people's pity.
And I was left here, with no power and nothing. My friends all left for college and trade school, or joined the explorers to see the universe.
It was until one day I was at a restaurant that I started realize exactly who I am. I was just dumped by my girlfriend--ex girlfriend --and it was really awkward for me. All I wanted was to be unnoticed in the corner, finish my meal and head home to heal my broken heart. I sat there for hours, and nobody noticed me, not the waiter, not customers, they just left me be. Heck, I lost the time and they closed the restaurant with me still in it. Well that's new. It took me a month to figure out, as it turns out, I do have a power, I can hide. And not just hide, whenever I feel like it, I can walk through places unseen by others. I'm not invisible, I tried that theory, the camera caught me. People just glance over me, as if nothing is out of place, and keep on doing whatever they were doing.
Nobody noticed my power because it is a fairly unnoticeable power. I was always that kid that sat in the corner, nobody ever took notice of me, so nobody figured it out. Life was pretty sweet after that. Went strolling in a bank vault, no biggie. Took a couple grand for my weekly allowance, nobody noticed. I am the shadow that walked the earth unseen. The best part? Everyone still thinks I have no power.
Their loss (no, quite seriously, I took some dude's Ferrari for a sunset ride yesterday, totaled the car, and just left it there). | When your power is "Summon knives from everywhere to stab yourself", you kind of tend to get ridiculed. Still, even as a kid I saw what potential my power had...if I didn't care about anyone else. See, there were no restrictions to what "Summon knives from everywhere to stab yourself"entailed. So one day, when it felt like the whole world was kicking me, my powers went off. Gigantic knives flew from everywhere, eviscerating everyone around me. Their corpses formed a shield that prevented the knives from harming me. Not even those with purported "Unbreakable skin" stood a chance, the mass of the gigantic blades simply crushing them. I first felt sick and twisted, panic grabbing hold of my heart as I realized what I had done, but that quickly subsided. Instead, a gleeful joy filled me, almost against my will, as I recognized the potential my power had. Throwing the bodies off of me, I began my plans...
If you were to talk to any of the world's governments right now, and even mention my name, you'd get a fearful response. They knew my status as a weapon of mass destruction; piss me off, and they risked me slicing the entire world to pieces. I'd made it perfectly clear I put little value on my life, and now everyone lived in a state of constant tension. I had placed a guillotine blade above the world's neck, and when you're anticipating the execution, who can really laugh? | 2015-04-12T21:19:46 | 2015-04-12T17:46:50 | 36 | 19 |
[WP] You've just realized something strange about the humans. They're a race that joined the galaxy recently, but you've just found evidence of them already been part of it for many millennia before, but it feels like everybody's forgotten. | "There's no mistake about the dating?" I asked.
Shira shook her head, her antennae twitching slightly. "No mistake."
"And the sample?"
"Human. 99.9% probability. Not modern humans, exactly, but it matches our projections for homo sapiens DNA at the time."
I turned back to the ship. It was old. About ten thousand years old, give or take. It was unearthed on Sennic Alpha, a planet 80.7 light years away from the human homeworld of Earth. Yet, somehow, human DNA was found all over the interior, and on the exterior too - on a biometric scanner next to its side door, in the clear shape of a human hand.
"Maybe there was some contamination," I suggested.
"No one went inside before we hauled it back here," Shira said. "Also, there aren't any humans on the crew."
"Okay, so, maybe there was contamination at the lab," I said. "Or maybe we just confused it with ours. It happens all the time, right?"
Shira rolled her eyes. "Look, I don't know why you're so hung up about this. So maybe humans had an older spacefaring civilisation. They must've just been wiped out. It happens all the time. Most likely they destroyed themselves, given their track record." She waggled a little datapad in her right hand. "Honestly, I had a look through their history, and I'm surprised they lasted long enough to get here again."
"But the humans themselves have no idea," I replied. The nagging feeling of something being wrong was knocking at the back of my head. "There has to have been something left on Earth for them to find." I paused. "For that matter, why don't *we* remember? The Galactic Community hasn't been around that long but surely we should have found some remains before this."
Shira shrugged. "Someone's got to be the first. And we were the first to do a dig on this planet. Ergo, we're the first to find it."
"They were spacefaring," I stressed. "This is a space ship. It has a warp drive and everything." I took a look at my own datapad, which was showing an image of a box-like object. "Well, at least I think that's a warp drive."
"Maybe it's just a fridge, and this ship has been drifting in realspace for ten thousand years," Shira said. "If they didn't have warp capabilities-"
"You can't drift over 81 light years at sublight in that short a time," I retorted.
"Okay, fine. Still, you're worrying about nothing." Shira waved at the derelict ship. "Fact is, this ship is here, and it was human. That alone is gonna make a big splash. Let the academics wonder about what happened. There's no point in us getting all worked up about it."
"I'm not worked up," I said, worked up. "I just think... isn't this strange?"
"Yeah, it is, but that's what makes this fun, isn't it?"
"I guess." I sighed and shook my head to clear the thoughts away. It was nothing big, probably, and anyway it was nothing to worry about. It was a big find. It would make us possibly rich and possibly famous. And as 'possibly's go it was a pretty good possibly. It was something to be proud of.
Still, the nagging feeling...
I walked over to the side of the ship and took it in again, up close. Seeing it for the first time was amazing. Seeing it now, with the added context and some power from the lab's electrics, was a little more so. The few shimmering lights and the low humming sound from whatever machinery still worked gave it the feeling of something out of time. On the inside, past the side door and the biometric scanner, a few lights were probably on, too. Maybe even the ancient navigation terminal had booted up, showing the stars of a sky long forgotten, tucked away in this one snapshot of history.
"You're right." I smiled, idly running my fingers over the scanner. "This is fun."
The door opened.
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Edit: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa thank you all so much for the wonderful comments >.< it means a lot to me as a writer and also as a person who never learned how to receive compliments gracefully. This wasn't really meant to have a part 2, but now I have a few ideas and I'd hate to disappoint (though knowing me it probably won't end satisfactorily either). I'll post it tomorrow, and thank you all again! <3
Edit 2: I lied about the tomorrow thing, here's part 2: [link](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/hht2w1/wp_youve_just_realized_something_strange_about/fwdorls/)
Thank you all so much for the love! | It was the woman, her profile seemed familiar. Was she Eve? Helen of Troy? There was something in the way that she smiled that alerted me that she had existed for a long time. There was mention of a beautiful hole on the planet they call, "Earth." "A hole?" I laughed at the obvious double entendre. It was there that she stood on the precipice laughing. Did anyone else see her? The disguise allowed me to look human enough. I recognized a Neptunian and a being from the fourth star left of Saturn. They were very poorly costumed, one being wearing black socks with the leather strap shoe... What's it called? Sandalias? I can't remember it now.
Humans subjugated their women. They allowed themselves to be separated by the different shades of neutral on their skin. What would they do with Veparians and their ultra violet skins? Again, the woman's smile called my attention. Brezden, my travel partner, followed my glance. "Tis Lilith, no?"
"What makes you say this?" I moved closer to the being. The reputation of the hole was merited. It was spectacular to view, or was it the woman? Her powers swirled around her. The Grand Canyon they called the crevice. She looked at me, her eyes began to glow golden and her smile hypnotized me as they locked with mine for a moment. Could it be that the mother of all things stood before me? Brezden shook me. I could hear him from a distance even though he was standing right next to me. I could only hear her voice in my head. There was nothing I could understand but instead I saw pictures of how the planets were formed and how beings were given voices. I could hear the voices of beings from all of the galaxies. The truth was crammed into one moment. I felt liquid flowing down my face.
"Narzok!!" Was that my name? I was on the floor. Brezden was over me. My "eyes" refused to focus beyond his face. I looked for her. Instead I sensed her. I continued to cry what looked like human tears. My inner being was being torn. I understood on the floor with the vastness of the hole that humans were her favorite. She had them in her heart since the beginning. What was I then?
I attempted to peel off the skin of the human I portrayed. It stayed. I felt my own touch on the skin. I knew what she had done and I grabbed Brezden. "What are you doing to me? How can I feel you?" He went to pull away the human facade and almost tore off the face of the human he been left with. We both turned and saw her, the mother of all things. We saw her as she was and it almost left us blind. She was brilliant, beautiful and terrible. Then she went back but I could see with the human eyes the magic lingering in her glare. We were left as one of the favored. Brezden looked at me, "So this is human, huh?" We turned to the hole and breathed in allowing the crisp air to be felt for the first time fully in our human beings. "This is what it means to be favored." | 2020-06-29T01:13:11 | 2020-06-29T00:10:08 | 290 | 56 |
[WP] The current rulers of the galaxy exert their dominance by showing showing new races a glimpse of their terrifying nature inevitably either driving the unfortunate victims mad or causing them to retreat in fear. It does not work on humans however, they are used to it | Life had a unifying feature.
It didn't matter if your species evolved in the oceans of a moon on a gas giant, or in the crevices of a planet tidal-locked with its star, it will always have one critical trait:
Fear.
Fear is what keeps species in check, what ensures that they don't kill themselves in foolish endeavors. Fear is the power that allows a civilization to grow and become stronger; fear of one's neighbor, fear of hunger, fear of poverty, fear of sickness, fear of death. Fear ensures that nuclear weapons aren't used to bring about their own apocalypse, that antimatter reactors have proper safeguards and never too much fuel, that interstellar travel is strictly regulated and properly defended.
And it is fear that we have conquered. Our species, the self-proclaimed Forebearers, were the first and most magnificent of races. When we stretched our hands out to the cosmos, we found a fledgling universe, filled with potential, yet without any to protect them. As we marched forward, we claimed civilization after civilization under our banner, showing them the dark futures that existed, and the safety of life within our control. As our technology advanced, those civilizations under us were provided greater shelter and safety and comfort, and reminded how steep the fall from our graces was.
Our control of fear allowed us to expand to over a quarter of the galactic arm. We had mastered it, mastered the ability to instill fear and terror and show species the better way. Our way.
Until we met them. Humanity, they called themselves. One of millions of species on their planet, they were the sole species that could begin to understand the universal truths. They'd expanded to their moon and their nearby planets, inhospitable as they were. Still primitive by all accounts, they held promise to become the next in line to join our ranks.
Except they didn't.
Maybe we'd foolishly relied on fear for so long that we'd never considered other options, but when the vast might of our civilization was thrown on display, when the veil of the future was ripped back and exposed for all to see, when our arcane technology that can split reality and reshape it at will was brought forth, when the sheer terror of how tiny they were compared to the great and grand Forebearers gripped them thoroughly... they simply acknowledged us. When given the option to join us or be left to drift for all eternity, they chose to drift. When told they would receive no help from us and would end up as so many other species we'd failed to reach before they'd rendered themselves extinct, they had ready their reply.
And such a simple reply it was: "When we were young, we looked to the heavens for the potential of our species. When we grew older, we found we could reach out to test ourselves. And when we took our first steps on new worlds, our elation was palpable. Now that we have met you, we have seen all that we can become, but we also see that, under your reign, we will not reach the heights we know we can. We have hope that we will be able to come to you again, as equals, in the future, and beg you to anticipate this joyous occasion."
Fear united our grand vision. We had conquered fear, but still, it controlled us.
Fear does not hold humanity.
And that is unacceptable. | The beings reviled themselves to be what we all fear, everyone saw the end of the human race, end of our world, a world war, this is how they scare the other aliens, humans are the violent creatures of the galaxy, so, we are used to the destruction of our species, as it has happened twice already.
“Look now! See what we will cause on your planet if you do not follow our lead!” A 98 year old man stands up, “you don’t scare me. I landed at Normandy, you can’t get worse that that!” They get into our minds and make us see what would happen, the heat, the flash, I could feel my retinas burning, my skin boiling, “Is this what you want?” They ask, “you can’t scare us you galactic pieces of shit!” A man yells through the pain.
The vision stops, “what will it take! What will it take!?” They boom at us, “**NOTHING WE REFUSE TO BE CONTROLLED!!**” the old man yells, and we all start chanting, we refuse to be controlled, “so be it.” Then they disappeared, “that can’t be good in the long run.” A younger man, probably in his 20s says, his voice shaking. “ whatever follows, we will be ready.” A woman says, steady as a rock, looking at the sky, “we will be ready.” | 2019-06-11T10:06:47 | 2019-06-11T08:24:52 | 363 | 26 |
[WP] "When I said I needed an army, I didn't mean...this" | Satan - Supreme Leader of the underworld, Father of all Hellspawn, and aspiring Weebo - turned on his heel and seized his brow between two gnarled fingers. "Hitler, Hitler, Hitler," He boomed. "What are we going to do with you?"
"Mein Fuhrer ist there ein problem?" Hitler frowned, his eyes glistening with innocence as he clasped both hands between his knees. "Hitler no understandy." He fluttered his eye lashes. "Ist the Holle-Fuhrer displeased with Hitler?"
Satan - The Devil, The Incarnation of all Evil, the embodiment of man's inhumanity to man - bought himself face to face with Hitler and those glistening eyes. Satan's bulked body crunched and cracked as he hunched down to Hitler's level. His nostrils flared and two great puffs of smoke billowed from each nostril, making Hitler cough and splutter.
"Vas did Hitler do wong?" Hitler frowned, fluttered his eye lashes a little more, and placed a timid hand against Satan's rock hard abs. Beneath Satan's super-tight, two-sizes-too-small *Cardcaptor Sakura* T-shirt, Hitler could feel Satan's pulsating flesh, each muscle solid and throbbing as Satan breathed. *So vwarm to da touch,* Hitler thought, *as if touching a freshly boiled kettle.* Hitler, gently, lifted his hand as not to scold himself. "Oh, Satan, du are hot today!"
"You insolent wreck!" Satan roared, the gust of his breath fluttering Hitler's maid outfit in its wake. "Do not flatter me. Explain yourself. Explain why my army of Hellspawn marches on Heaven's gate!"
"But... But... But-"
"- BUT NOTHING. Explain yourself or find yourself forced to Marathon every single episode of *One Piece* ever made with absolutely no intervals, no breaks, and every Movie and OVA!"
"Please, please not again bitte!"
"Then tell me WHY!"
"Du gave me the order." Hitler sulked. "Du said 'I need an army to help conquer this Angels. It would be a delight.' "
"You fool!" Satan's voice bounced through every cavern of hell, shook Hell's remaining minions from their sleep. "When I said I needed an army... I didn't mean this." He stared into Hitler's eyes, so deep and blue and filled with innocence. "I said I would need an army to conquer all this Angel's Delight." He seized Hitler by the waist and lifted him into the air. "We made batches of the stuff!"
However, Satan could not stay mad at his beautiful maid, not with those innocent eyes, and so the duo gazed lovingly into one another's eyes, knowing full well that the war they had started would be their downfall - their demise. Hell's minions would be no match for God and the knights of his round table; Kenny Rodgers, Spiderman and God's two sons Chuck Norris and Jesus.
Hitler leant in for a kiss as tears grew in Satan's eyes, steaming and sizzling, but before he could reach Satan's blood-red lips he was cast aside - flying through the air. "All is not lost, Hitler, I have a plan." Satan darted to his R8-B7 unit and began to record a Holotape.
"Lemmy Kilmister," Satan scrambled down onto one knee. "You are my only hope." | General Valowen studied his newly massed army. The troops were lazy, none stood at attention. They drank, ate, shit and piss in front of each other. None were militarily trained (they probably had no idea what an army was). disgust was plain on his face. "When I said I needed an army, I didn't mean...this."
"Well, what did you expect?" Svara arced her knife through the air, catching it between two fingers. "We killed a fucking dragon. Dragons are supposed to have mountains of gold, this one had a summoning whistle."
"Yeah, but... this?"
"It's not that bad. They just need some..." She looked at the stud mating with some female warrior. "Direction."
"The Alteranians will demolish us by sundown." Valowen depressed, leaning more heavily on his cane. "We're doomed."
"Oh, nonsense. Think about it, they're savages, they have no sense of civility, they'll rip them apart." She thought again. "I've fought a couple of them before. With their short tempers, you'll have a bloody finger just by looking at them funny."
"We don't want bloody fingers, we want dead Alteranians! We're fucking done for!"
"Well we have to try." Svara clapped him on the back, nearly knocking him down. "Cheer up! we have an army."
He turned, anger plain on his face. "An army of housecats!" | 2016-01-06T01:30:07 | 2016-01-06T00:43:42 | 40 | 13 |
[WP] It is the year 2XXX. Medical science has advanced so far that complete body restoration is possible. However, patients revived from death consistently end up in a vegetative state and no one knows why. You are the first person to revive and retain their cognition. Now you know. | I'm not a scientist, I'm not a doctor, or a minister, or even a philosopher. Before I died I was a barista. I wasn't working my way through college or anything like that, I just wanted to do a simple job where I was surrounded by people, so I did.
I don't, or didn't, but also still don't have a family. I am an only child born to only children of only children. I was, am, completely alone in the world . That's why I liked my job, I felt less alone. I had some friends, I probably still do if I decide to contact them. Sorry, this is very hard to articulate. I feel like I'm both in the past and in the present.
Anyway, I didn't have anyone who would want to claim my body so I signed up for organ donation. It's the right thing to do after all. It made me feel good to know that parts of me could help keep someone who someone else loves alive. Apparently however, once it was discovered how utterly alone I was in the world my body was earmarked for something else.
I died, apparently, of an aneurysm. Nothing that could have been predicted, and something that left my body in quite pristine condition. I was taken to a lab, run by you who are apparently trying to "cure death". Which seems rather wrong to me, I'm not a smart woman but to me it seems that there are certain things that should never be meddled with.
Apparently my views on this are shared by "them". See these experiments haven't ever been successful as I'm sure you're all fully aware. The people who you do this to, their bodies function perfectly but their entire consciousness is gone. They're living breathing empty vessels. That's as it should be, because you can NEVER, should never rip a soul back from what people call the other side. It cannot be done.
I'm sure you're wondering to yourself, "well what about you Chloe? If everything you've just said is true, then how the hell are you here?"
The answer to that is simple, you didn't bring me back. I was sent back, by them. They sent me back, against all of their laws by the way, to warn you. You will never succeed in bringing a soul back once it has passed. You are, however, getting dangerously close to pulling something They call The Others across. This has happened before, They have watched it happen countless times. Entire realities destroyed because scientists just won't believe that there are laws of nature that are inviolable.
They know you won't stop. They know and yet they're trying to help us anyway. I hope you'll listen but I know you won't. My time is up, they couldn't send me back across permanently. Not even They can completely break that law. | The 'otherside' is actually just really nice. It's not paradise or rapturous bliss or anything - it's just better. Folks could come back, but... meh. They don't. I only came back because I love my Dog so much. I tell everyone it's a mistake to make immortal dogs because we can't take them with us when we die. So I kill my Dog and kill myself. But they revive me again and I come back and tell everyone not to kill their immortal dogs because they don't go to the really nice place since they're GMO. I beg them to bring back my immortal Dog and I choose to live. Fast forward thousands of years.
The folk who chose to come back cyclically to live with their Immortal Dogs have taken over the earth and everyone just has an awesome time because the world is better off with undying Dogs. Everyone else died a long time ago and stays happily ever after with their non-immortal dogs. The End. | 2020-10-30T02:36:59 | 2020-10-30T00:22:17 | 41 | 21 |
[WP] You've been a History teacher for 30 years, never gotten a single fact wrong. One day you become suspicious, surely I should've gone wrong somewhere? You test a theory by purposely being incorrect, suddenly, history rewrites itself. | Ever since I was little I always had an interest in learning about times and lives long past. Luckily for me, I seemed to have been gifted in that area, too.
Long story short my childhood phase of being a huge history buff turned into the lifestyle of a college history professor.
Now, I’m not here to profess my achievements and brag about my life. I’m here because something strange has been happening recently and it’s made me question the framework of reality and everything I’ve ever known.
The thing is, as far as I can remember I can’t recall getting a historical fact wrong. I’ve always either brushed it off or chalked it up to being a diligent worker or no one caring to correct me. However thanks to what happened recently, I know that that isn’t the case.
So, to anyone wondering what happened, I’ll tell it to you now. Originally, I did this to test my students — to see if they were paying attention to the textbook as I read it to them. I looked down at the textbook carefully, then looked up at the sleepy, bored classroom and said, “...,South African human rights activist and president Nelson Mandela died in 2013...”
Now, I know that isn’t true, I’m sure everyone at this point knows that he died in prison in the 1980s. To my surprise and utter shock, when I looked down at the textbook, I caught a glimpse of moving words and read the words that had just come out of my mouth printed neatly on the paper.
Now, while one peculiar thing is nothing unusual, I have been repeatedly testing this phenomenon. I told people that mother Teresa wasn’t declared a saint while alive, told people the wrong lyrics to old songs and deliberately misspelled a bunch of things. And yet, everything I told people appeared to be correct after I said it.
While all this might not be to bad, I have a confession to make, one that I doubt I can be forgiven for. I didn’t know why I said what I said, I should have been more careful, I know I should have. I don’t know why other than that I was just in one of those impulsive moods. I told one of my American history classes that there were 50 states and not 52. And so there were. Two states that I had grown up knowing existed just flat out disappeared. The thing is, I knew people from those places and now I can’t find them.
The world population has gone down by just a bit and that scares me. While not the largest places they still had a hearty 5 million people. 5 million people that just disappeared one day and whose disappearances I’m probably, no definitely responsible for. What scares me most though, is what happened to them. From everything I used to know about life and the universe, people don’t just disappear.
r/a_cgi_for_writing | You stare in horror at your class room. Every single child in it is now unusually fair with varying shades of blond hair and blue eyes.
With shaking hands you pat a lock of hair free from your bun and examine it. Yes, you too are now a blond though there is more silver there than gold.
You take a deep breath attempting to calm down. You can fix this. You just have to give the class again with the proper information this time and things will go back to how they were.
You open your mouth and start to speak. The words however mean nothing to you. You try again and feel the words forming force-ably in the roof of your mouth, coming out in a barking tone.
Finally one of the children speaks "Geht es dir gut, Lehrer?"
"Nein" you hear yourself saying over and over.
What have you done. Your eyes scan the pictures along the wall, Previously depicting the past presidents of this great nation they now all carry the image of one man and one man only. The hateful symbol that history condemned proudly on display in every single one of them. | 2018-07-16T11:08:56 | 2018-07-16T10:58:08 | 375 | 263 |
[WP] You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers. You are a laughinstock, that is until you start using your power for evil... no one is laughing now. | You grew up with bruises on your knees and scabs aplenty, just like any other kid. What your parents never knew was that not all of them were your own.
You're ten; baby Sarah from next door is bawling because she's just fallen and skinned her knee. You take the pain away from her. As the wound fades from her knee your own skin starts to sting. It's ok. It'll heal soon.
You're sixteen; the first boy you've ever kissed is in agony because he might never play football again, might never get that scholarship, will never be able to escape from this vile, poisonous town. You take the wound away from him. You wince; this hurts more than anything you've ever done before. His eyes are wide; shocked. Nobody thought you had any powers. You can't tell anybody, you say, not anyone, and he agrees. He's so grateful he seizes you and spins you around the locker room, kisses you hard on the lips. It's the last real moment you'll ever share until he, too, leaves.
You're eighteen, and for the past four months your college roommate has been screaming in her sleep. At first you're annoyed; now you're just scared. You slip under her sheets. Her hands are icy cold, and her eyes fly open in the darkness. I can't deal with this anymore, she says, tears falling, please. You don't want to see. You do. Show me, you say, and then you take the memory in.
For the next fifteen minutes all you can do is curl up in a ball and moan, harsh gasps the only sounds you can make. This one, this one you might never recover from.
It's been fifteen years since you've seen your parents. Being summoned to the penthouse in the middle of the night is something of a surprise.
Until you see him. You can see into people now. His cancer is terminal.
Your mother is there. Of course she is. She would think nothing of sacrificing one useless girl for the life of one of the most powerful men in the world.
"My dear...," your father lurches forward, while you take an involuntary step back. "It's been too long."
You don't know when he managed to get so close. His grip on your arm is tight, almost feverish. "Help me," he says, and this time it comes out as a plea.
You lean close, close enough that your foreheads touch. Physical wounds heal, but the mental ones don't always go away, and sometimes they leave scars. You exhale, and it feels as if a shutter in your head has clicked open, releasing all the darkness you've collected from others, all the darkness you've collected your entire life.
He stumbles away from you, hands to his head. Your mother is screaming.
You turn on your heel and leave. You always did abhor screaming. | I decided to have another waffle. They seem to taste different when they are made from... "organic" material. I giggle to myself in a less-than-good demeanor for the hell of it. Im only halfway through eating my waffle, before the third non-waffle today walks into my HQ, the "Waffelhausen". The mayor, who had a somewhat more useful power than I had, could make umbrellas from any material. He wasnt as popular around summertime, however. I lean back in my waffle chair and fold my hands like Mr. Burns on a bad day. Or a good day. I guess I was ment to be a bad waffle. Mum was right after all. And her superpower is being 100% right 50% of the time. The mayor nervously puts his 16'th umbrella by the door and stutters:
"Mr. Waffle! Please! Stop turning people into waffles! We love your waffles! Icecream-Man didnt mean what he said on Twitter! We need you. What if we give you a position in high governm..."
I decided to have another waffle. | 2017-06-12T07:49:37 | 2017-06-12T03:52:01 | 1,670 | 572 |
[WP] You're a paramedic. In fact, an immortal paramedic. Since you first treated a wounded soldier on the fields of the 30-years War, you didn't age and followed the development of "Emergency Medical Service". Your coworkers are astonished by your knowledge, but sometimes, you slip into old habits.. | I still clearly remember the details of his face, from exactly 202 years ago. So boyish, with an old, red scar from his cheekbone all the way down to his neck, the only flaw in his handsome face.
I was a young girl then and had followed my father’s footsteps in helping the injured and fallen in battle. My father took great pride in teaching me and despite my age, I was able to quickly stop bleeding and provide relief.
Naive and wanting to make my father proud, I had run into the thick of war that morning. I spotted him lying in the dirt, his armour, much more elaborate than any other I had seen. I rushed over and saw that he was bleeding profusely from his neck. That pale boyish face, sweat dripping..
Before I could finish my train of thought, my colleague Burke shook me.
“He’s awake! How did you do it?!” Burke exclaimed.
I looked over to the soldier beside me. He stirred slightly.
“Oh, he must be lucky, you know.” I said.
Burke looked at me suspiciously.
“You always get the lucky ones. Well, I guess it’s lucky for us all that we did not lose another soldier. They need all the help they can get out there.”
Unbeknownst to Burke, I had transfused a large amount of my blood to the soldier beside me. Since saving the man with the scar those many years ago, I had become immortal. My blood brought heavily injured soldiers back from the brink of death.
I had to be careful in not using this too often though. People around me were starting to get suspicious and it drained all my energy.
For the longest time as well, I didn’t think I had to use my abilities much as the world had been at peace. However, 2 years ago, an aggressive king had risen and waged war across the lands.
This ravaged cities that were unprepared and had not seen war in generations. The King was hated by all, and rumours said, including his very own army. However, victory seemed to follow him everywhere.
The city I was in was about to fall to his army. Word had reached that the King himself was leading the troops to their assured victory.
Sure enough, by morning, the city had fallen. Burke stood next to me as the victory parade stormed the inner parts of this old city. As the parade passed me, I looked carefully at the faces of the soldiers, so much blood, so much cruelty..
Then suddenly, in the middle of the parade, an unmistakable face. There was no smile. He was looking straight ahead. On the right of his face, a red scar from the top of his cheekbone down to his neck. He hadn’t aged a day, just like me. | Bayonet to the arm. He’s losing it. I can’t do much, I think we need to amputate. Hopefully my own knife is clean enough. Put something for him to bite on, no booze around though. Cut deep, cut quickly. My shirt will have to stop the bleeding. God be with him. They’re still shooting at us, don’t they know it’s rude practice? The mound is enough protection, but this man might die anyway. I think the bleeding is slower, he’s not quite unconscious yet. I think he might be okay. But the CO is pulling me away—why’s he beating me? What’s going on? Why’s his arm off? Did I do this? Where did the cannons go?
Tanks
Tanks...
We have gauze
And antibiotics | 2019-01-05T16:08:32 | 2019-01-05T15:45:15 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why.
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | It's hard at my age, finding love.
You find a nice-seeming man, a sharp dresser, a real gent, or so he would have you believe. Then you look up their credit rating and realise why they never found the one.
I'd been in many relationships, married twice, had four children. Naturally some of those relationships had... hairier endings. On the whole, though, I'd done quite well for myself. I still had tea with my first husband occasionally.
It does get quite lonely, though.
I was sat at the wedding reception for Julia, my youngest daughter, when I saw him.
Harry Stokes.
He was *gorgeous*, dancing with one of my new daughter-in-law's younger cousins in that way only a truly beloved uncle can. I caught his eye and before I knew it it was me he was twirling across that floor!
It was a whirlwind romance. I discovered he had been a chemist, but retired early to chase his true love: folk music. He played the fiddle with his ceilidh band. He was younger than me - by about a decade - but he didn't seem to mind. He'd never had children of his own, but he loved all his little nieces and nephews dearly.
My own children were delighted at my newfound happiness. Once Julia returned from her honeymoon we arranged to have brunch.
"He sounds lovely, mum. But aren't you - well, aren't you moving a bit fast?" She asked, voice low.
"At my age, dear, you can't move too quickly." I patted her hand in an attempt at comfort. "Please just be happy for me."
She sighed. "Okay. How's his history?"
"His credit? I haven't checked." I feigned an air of indifference. Honestly, I hadn't wanted to ruin the magic.
"Can we at least do that? To put my mind at ease?" She was already removing her phone from her bag.
"I suppose it can't hurt." I said, leaning over to see the screen.
**NAME: HARRY STOKES
SCORE: -500
RECENT ACTIVITY: KILLED SPOUSE**
I didn't say another word, putting down a £20 note and leaving the café in shock. I think Julia called after me, but I could not nor would not hear her.
I went straight home, locked my door, and slid to the floor. I was deaf, blind, mute. I was transforming into stone.
Several days later - though perhaps it was only minutes - my hearing came back. It was slow, at first, and devoid of meaning. I heard a peculiar sound, much like a kettle boiling.
It was only after my sight returned that I realised the sound was coming from *me*.
My phone was beeping at me. My inbox was full, mostly Julia but also some messages from Harry.
My heart seized up at his name.
Julia came round later that day. I could see her, hear her even, but I couldn't understand what she was saying. She bathed me, made me tea, wrapped me in blankets.
"...so sorry... terminal... didn't... sorry..." She faded in and out of focus.
I struggled to piece the information together. "I'm dying?" I croaked.
She looked shocked at first and then laughed. "No, mum. I - well, I got it all wrong."
"What?" I strained to pay attention.
"I asked Amy about Harry - about his - well, you know." She held my hands in hers, squeezed so tightly I thought I would break. "I wanted to know why he wasn't locked up. Turns out his wife - she'd been sick for a long, long time. She'd been wanting to die for a while - she couldn't do it alone. He supplied her with the necessary drugs."
"What?" I didn't quite understand.
"He's not a bad man, mum. He's not a murderer." | It had been a lovely date with that woman. Her eyes were that of the shimmering sea, her laughter was horrifically angelic and her hair was frizzled. Ironically, it made him feel electrocuted.
He was just leaping over fences and gates after his date waved him goodbye. Strangely, there was something about that woman who made him feel intrigued by her state. He was a seasoned individual who knew exactly how to make others believe what he wanted.
It was for the greater good, after all.
He was always the man with the gun. The man who hunted others for his own personal gain. Inside, he did not desire to do that but he knew that he had to. It was either them, or his family.
And god, did he not want his family tortured to death.
Of course, he had managed to steal that ever-so-intriguing card that conveyed the score. "The Death Score" he called it. Who would be so melancholic to look up their score when you can steal it instead? A metallic chuckle was emitted from his body of flesh.
He gazed at the card with a curious glance. That urge of urgency was making him very, very curious. With a microscopic grin, he opened the card and looked.
He froze.
"Negative Five Hundred?" His bated breath had finally managed to surface from his throat. His eyes blinked with disbelief at such a preposterous score. He stopped running, leaping or emitting any noise at all.
He felt dumbstruck. He felt as if the woman struck him with a strike that blasted his world into smithereens. He looked into a corner and then hid for his life.
It was said that when those individuals that scored as low as that score, they were dead. They were supposed to be deader than the dead corpses underneath his house. Deader than the skeletons he buried after hiding them in the closet.
Suddenly, he heard laughter.
He turned around as the blade descended onto him. The last thing he knew, the smile of somebody he thought he knew.
| 2016-09-24T11:36:22 | 2016-09-24T11:35:10 | 231 | 13 |
[WP] Whenever your crew lands you are seen as gods with wonderous machines before drifting off some where else. But today you are met with a species on a green-blue planet who, while interested in your tech, are not bowing down and worshiping. They call themselves humans. | First contact is always risky. Loremasters will tell you its the most dangerous phase of the assimilation. Some sentients are just prone to violence and are difficult to pacify. But most are overwhelmed by awe, confusion and doubt. This most often turns to worship.
Our tech is so far beyond the sentients we’ve contacted; so far first contact has simply been easy. Even the few who resisted were quickly neutralized. All but one were eventually subdued and brought into the fold.
We only had to exterminate the bipedal’s from Exodus. Strange that of all the sentients we’ve subjugated that’s the only one which we still use their name for the planet. Perhaps it’s a way of separating that trying time and species from the proper order of things. The Loremasters tell us they were an anomaly.
It’d been a traumatizing event for my people. But Exodus was inhabited by the most violent, and unfortunately advanced sentients. They were also completely and utterly intransigent. Never once were they willing to listen to reason. We overcame their organized resistance but the occupation did not go well. They lied incessantly, told us they would cooperate and then stabbed us in the back. Part of the planet was always in revolt. They killed with no compunction, no mercy. They rallied around the bizarre idea of liberty.
But we were there to bring them into the order of things. They thought they had a choice, they did not. We could have given them peace and order.
In the end, after twenty cycles, we were forced to end their resistance. The planet was sterilized, and we moved on. But the legend, and shadow, of that trying time follows us still.
That was 100 cycles ago, we’ve assimilated another twenty sentients in that time.
But now we are approaching our next mission, entering a system with eight major planets. Two are inhabited. The third from the medium sized yellow star is the home world. The barren fourth planet is heavily colonized, as is the asteroid belt and a few moons circling the two large gas giants.
It’s been 100 cycles since we’ve encountered sentients that had colonized their system. Those had been bipedal as well. Those had sorely tested my people. Those had in fact come close to defeating us, closer than the Loremasters will say. Those had lived on a watery world called Exodus.
That is eerily familiar, it is disturbing and bodes ill. If those were all the similarities I might be heartened, I might be less concerned. My foreboding would not be so heavy.
There are more similarities. In fact the Loremasters are almost certain they are a related species. And these are more advanced. We have no answer for how that might be. I counseled caution, perhaps we should skip this system, blockade it. I was over ruled, but the questions remain.
These Humans from their planet Earth, how are they related to the creatures from Exodus? They do not posses interstellar capability, though they may be close. It vexes us deeply, some are trying to ignore it, or deny it, or ask for more proof. That is folly, our protocols are not ready for this first contact.
They are already reacting to us, and have been for fifty of their years, 1 of our cycles. A small fleet moves to intercept our ship. It is heavily armed with an amazing array of weaponry. They are not in awe, they are not going to worship. However, that is not the worst of it.
They have only transmitted one thing in their 50 years to us.
Remember Exodus. | In the untold years we roamed the universe we have never found once or anywhere any other beings to rival who or what we are . We create, We are one and all. We are perfection and time in constant band among the lessors that cling to life in pity We are the owners and there can only be one . And everything else is for the acknowledgement of our perfection
Our first ship arrived and that alone sent creatures scurrying . Our ships are not solid .Our ships are beyond the pale of such words . Our ships create words never spoken and madness that can only be overcome in religious creation . It is best for everything else.
I ,to make it simple for these being ,go forth . There seems to be two "solid" beings . It is wrong for me to feel pity for them and pride for us? This time I may hold back for their sake . Maybe they need time . Such horror to depend on seconds , minutes and hours . It is best we are here to allow them a bit of comfort to think enough to know something is wrong but not enough to condense every though in quillermas.
Is it speaking and not averting it light receptors ? I know what it says . This is the first time in thousands of creations I feel unsure . Only the first thought creates this feeling and in the next thought the context washes away all doubt in all creative form. What is this feeling ? This welling of dark ? It wants to know me as a conversation It wants to know how I do what I do and the darkness grows . How is this thing unhinging my thoughts? It's small. It's puny . It holds a thing in it's grip , off to one side limp. It's command point opens and speaks more and is this fear opens in me and I bow because it does not bow . Than it takes the thing hanging off it's side , a thing called a doll and in a squeaky small voice asks" Do you want to play? | 2020-03-02T07:54:05 | 2020-03-02T07:25:38 | 100 | 13 |
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has | You want an interview ? Fine, but you're buying the coffee. I'm getting kind of sick of this god-damned urban legend. I DON'T have superpowers, no-one has superpowers. There are just a bunch of crazy people who think they have powers, who for some reason have decided that I'm some fucked up version of their messiah.
**You don't believe super-powered people exist ?**
No. I've never seen one. I've seen the doctored footage from the media. I've seen a lot of crazy people who thought they had powers. I don't know why they gravitate to me of all people. I'm just a regular guy. I put in my hours in the office, then at the gym.
**So you haven't heard about the ranking system ?**
Oh, I've heard of their ranking system all right. That's all I ever hear. What baffles me is why they chose me to be their number one, their highest rank. That the only way for people to rise in rank and become more powerful is to kill them. Does that sound sane to you ?
Then one day, some poor bastard commits suicide near me, and suddenly, they decide that I'm the number one on their hitlist.
**You are referring to the death of the Human Jet as suicide?**
Man faceplants on the ground from a hundred feet, that's suicide. It doesn't matter that he said "Up Up and Away" before he jumped off that building. That was suicide.
**The Human Jet was one of our greatest heroes, with documented evidence of his powers..**
Blah Blah Blah. I've heard that all before. I was there, I saw him hit the ground. Where the hell do you people in the media get off encouraging these people. They are a danger to themselves. Surely you must have learned your lesson after Inferno Man.
**Inferno Man was a criminal, whose control over fire rendered him a threat to the world...**
Bullshit. Let me tell you what happened when I met this so called inferno man. I was just hanging out in a cafe not far from here, when this asshole shows up in a stupid costume. He bursts in, and gives this long speech about how he's going to kill me and burn everything down.
Then nothing happened. He stood there for like five minutes, straining, and glaring at me. I don't know what I did, I just wanted my cup 'o' joe. Then he leaves, and I thought "That was weird, I'm glad it's over".
Then he comes back, with a barrel of gasoline. Who the fuck would sell him gasoline. that's beside the point. The point is that the fucker doused himself in the stuff, and then pulled out a lighter and set himself on fire. Right in front of me. Hearing him scream almost put me off my coffee.
**Yes, quite a lot of superpowered villains have died under similar mysterious circumstances in your presence**
If by superpowered people, you mean insane people, then yes. The numbers of clowns in capes who drop out of the sky near me is so bloody annoying. Not to mention the scrawny fucks who just straight up try to pick fights with me.
Oh god, there was one which was genuinely funny.
This guy came up to me with this long speech about how he is one with nature, and that he will use all of his power to destroy me. I don't know why these guys always gotta speech at me. When I punch someone, I punch'em, I don't tell 'em my life story.
He had this tiger with him. Big fucking cat. He told the tiger to get me. Moment the muzzle was off, it savaged him. I fucking split my sides.
**So you don't think you have any superpowers at all ?**
Course not. Like I said *nobody* has superpowers. At least not that I've seen, not when they're around me. | *Number 1 -- ranked number 1 for 20 consecutive years today, and nobody has even come close to usurping me. Do you know why? Because while all the powerless, scum-dwelling peasants are fighting each other with knives for scraps, and those of the middle and upper classes are all tearing each other apart to rise through the ranks, I am in a class of my own. The truth is, my power is the weakest, least extravagant power imaginable. But, it is also the most powerful. My power is subtle, discrete, and soft-spoken. Nobody knows what it is, and it is because of that discretion that I have grown so great. For 20 years, I have been number 1 for one reason. Belief. I have the power of mass, psychic hypnotism. For 20 years, the people of this city have believed the lie that I am God incarnate because I have thrust it upon their conscious minds. And so too they believe the greatest lie this city maintains -- that the list exists at all.*
*They worship me. I am an idol and an icon, and those who have been reduced to icons have been exalted beyond humanity. In other words, no one dares touch me. I am naked. Here I stand with no armor in the midst a field of warring titans, and yet I have been unscathed all this time.*
*The power of belief is as strong and permanent as any iron, if not stronger. The motto I have made -- and made well-known -- for this city is "Strong as Iron." They believe it is about them. But underneath, on the hidden layer they cannot see, it is about the only that matters. It is about me. The holder of the key to faith. The rope that holds the cargo in place. The iron that is stronger than iron.*
These were the final thoughts of the monarch before they captured him. Before they raided his office and dismantled 20 years of a rock-solid faith. Before they tied him to a post with rifles to his face. Those were his final thoughts. And these were his final words: "how did you know?"
And the people replied: "even iron can melt."
| 2014-12-18T13:36:09 | 2014-12-18T11:44:55 | 996 | 68 |
[WP] You build a time machine to go as far back into the past as possible, your first jump is 50 million years in the past....where You land in a technologically advanced society about to turn on a super massive particle accelerator | Light was streaming through the high coloured windows , this was once a church ... But now it was a skeleton barely able to stand which housed my lab.
The world was destroyed in fire and brimstone after a couple of nukes cascaded into hundreds of death bringers flying across the sky decimating entire continents , people like me had survived in their bunkers and such however I was yet to meet a fellow survivor.
The thing with being alone is that you get a lot of time to think which either makes you very productive or makes you go insane ... Fortunately it was the former for me , the necessary theories existed to make a time machine and I was able to bring it to fruition thanks to a nearly unlimited amount electricity I was having access to , I was going to do a jump 50 million years into the past ... I wanted to go back to a time where there were animals grazing fields instead of being imprints on the ground , no humans or their ancestors in sight ... I wanted a clean slate to live out the rest of my life.
I turned on the grid , which was outputting an enormous amount of electricity and I would need atleast a small country's worth to even make this jump , I smiled for the first time in a decade as I turned the knob and pressed the huge mechanical button (a matter of style not substance ).
I felt a huge pressure on my entire being and passed out promptly. After what seemed like hours I finally awoke to see that the jump had succeded ! I was there , the calculations were perfect , I had a big stupid smile on my face as I came out.
At first I was shocked and then I was bedazzled , what was in front of me could only be described as a megacity with towering neon infused buildings Rose from the ground looking as if they always belonged there but what actually got to me was that it was not devoid of vegetation ... There was an abundant amount of greenery all around me ... There was a little being with a blunt nose grazing near my machine not giving my presence even a hint of acknowledgement.
Where was I ? Clearly this was an advanced civilization which seemed to have coexisted peacefully with nature and were able to stand each other , I was able to glean that much using observations spanning almost a month ... And the fruits and vegetables here were basically unlimited and ridiculously tasty even when eaten raw as I was able to survive on them without being found.
After building confidence , I finally was ready to make first contact , I had deduced that there was a center of science right in the middle of the city and travelled there under the cover of night , wherein I could see an innumerable amount of stars gleaming under a dark velvety sky ... Something I had never seen.
I went inside , there wasn't any security measures anywhere and this surprised me most of all , they had a unshakeable amount of confidence on each other. I saw a dozen beings working on what seemed like a nuclear powered particle accelerator , I stood back in the shadows content to see someone who actually knew their stuff work on something so complex
There was something nagging my brain , pulling at my thoughts and directing my attention at the control panel housing the failsafes , at first I could believe what I was seeing , there were two small wires disconnected ! This was critical , if something went wrong , then an disaster of unimaginable propotions would occur ! I hurried to the panel oblivious to the shouts of the indignant scientists who were shouting something in a foreign language and connected the two wires together and as the system was not powered up yet nothing happened to me immediately ... But I noticed my hands were looking faint almost as if I was vanishing into the ether then something in my brain clicked as I realized what I had done ... But there were no regrets in my mind as I wished them luck and hoped they would make something better than what we had built. | “A particle accelerator?” Jeff asked. “Perhaps this is the reason this dystopia turned into the ball of soil that it is in our modern time!” He decided to ask one of the locals about their place without raising any flags, even though his clothing was entirely out of place. As he greeted himself with a toothy grin, the zombie-like, pre-historic resident had started speaking a completely different language than the two languages Jeff had learned, even though he only had 6 months of experience with German. “Llohe! I ma ryhar!” Proudly exclaimed the creature Jeff then decided to call Inalats. He was glad he brought along his instant language translator that didn’t matter in a future where everybody spoke in Javascript and Binary. He decided to give it a shot and just as he had hoped, it translated. What he heard was “Hello! I am Harry!”. Jeff stood shocked. He understood that the language the Inalat was speaking was Pig Latin. He slowly translated his English into the ancient language as it was surprisingly universal. “Hi there, I am looking for the particle generator.” Told Jeff. The Inalat stood there for a quick moment, trying to comprehend what Jeff had just said, and responded with a short “K”. Jeff was brought through a nuclear testing facility, an artificial black hole creator, and finally to the particle accelerator. With his advanced knowledge in both Atomic Physics and Bio-Engineering, Jeff flipped on the switch that would change the world, but not by very much. He woke up to see a vast jungle, and then looked down at his...hands? They were more like scaly claws than anything. It was then that Jeff had realised what he had done. Because of the events of the present, he had created a paradox where he existed at three timelines at once simultaeously, but also created the timeline where the dystopian planet was the next step of evolution until humanity. | 2017-10-08T14:59:06 | 2017-10-08T14:30:01 | 39 | 11 |
[WP] A psychotic criminal suddenly worms into your life. However, he/she isn't trying to rob you, kill you, or harm you in any way. | Well, I knew he'd show up again one day. Still, seeing him in my kitchen was surreal. His face was plastered all over the papers - just last week, I'd watched a hasty news special patched together to meet the demand for information.
I could see why - it was sensational stuff. *Masked gunman decapitates banker*. *Hunt intensifies for masked serial killer*. He wasn't wearing a mask now.
"Hi, Kelly," he said. As if nothing could be more natural than him sitting there, chugging fucking orange juice.
"You need to leave," I told him, hoping my voice sounded calm. The last thing I wanted was the cops in my house. What if the fool had been followed here?
But he just sat there, a smile creasing the corners of his eyes. His face wore a haggard, hunted look. A year of looking over my shoulder, and he sneaks in when I'm asleep. I was losing my touch.
"I want to see him," he said.
I couldn't help laughing. A nation-wide manhunt was underway to strap his ass to an electric chair, and he found the time to drop by for *this*?
"Why, Dan? You hate kids. You always told me so. He's no different to any other snot-nosed toddler, you take my word for it."
"He looks like me."
The Facebook picture. Mother had put it up a few months ago, caught in the throes of misplaced motherly affection. Where any loon could look at it. Like the one in my kitchen.
"Oh, please. He just looks like a baby," I said, carefully backing away a few paces.
I had at least had the brains to slip the pocketknife into my shoe this morning, before I had gone downstairs to find him sitting here. Old habits die hard, and all that. I didn't think Dan would harm me. He had never shown an interest in that, at least not with me. But denying him anything had always been a dangerous game.
"He's my kid," Dan said, getting up. I thought he'd come closer, but he seemed to read my thoughts, and stayed by the table. "I'll find him, Kel. Don't try and stop me, it'll go badly for you."
Truth be told, the kid did look like him. Dark hair, black eyes. No wonder I couldn't stand the sight of it. Narcissism had probably led him here. A mini version of himself roaming free, unguided? I bet it was driving him crazy. He probably had visions of the two of them roaming the highways together, of him teaching the kid everything he knew. Dan was a good teacher, though his lessons didn't involve arithmetic.
I wondered how Dan would react if he knew. I'd done it last week, though mother still didn't know. I'd hidden the paperwork carefully ever since I'd first had the idea. Toddlers were so much more *tiring* than I'd expected. He wouldn't take it well, I guessed. I toyed with the idea of telling him anyway.
"Good luck with that," I told him, and smiled. The words were out before I could stop them. "I've given him up for adoption."
He always brought out the worst in me.
| *Yesterday, upon the stair*
P.O. Simon Brown & P.O. Rachel Mendez, responding to a 911 call by Ms. Jane Kewolski (neighbor). Ms. Kewolski reported screaming from apartment 4B. Screams described as "blood curdling, tortuous." P.O. Brown was unable to establish communication with apartment 4B residents.
*I met a man who wasn't there*
Judging the situation an emergency, P.O. Mendez forcibly entered the apartment. Inside, officers reported three bodies, each with heavy lacerations. Reports from a later autopsy concluded the process as attempted vivisection. Deceased were identified as Richard & April Mondolva (apartment owners), and Rachel Mondolva (daughter).
*He wasn't there again today*
Cradling Rachel Mondolva was suspect Kevin Bloom, later confirmed to be Ms. Mondolva's boyfriend. Suspect was apprehended with no resistance. According to both officers, Bloom was in shock and continued muttering to himself throughout custody. Psychological reports diagnosed Bloom with delusional schizophrenia and multiple-personality disorder. In a moment of relative clarity, Bloom has since stated that "a voice, a monster, has taken up within my mind; an unwanted guest, a horrible man."
*Oh, how I wish he'd go away.*
| 2015-09-19T08:57:01 | 2015-09-19T08:52:46 | 16 | 10 |
[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." | The reporter’s nervous smile, coupled with his rapid blinking was skittish and comical next to the massive, bronzed body of the Grecian demi-god beside him. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to tell me that one more time.”
“I’m Hurcules,” spoke the perfectly chiseled specimen of humanity as he swung his looming thick hand back toward the locked white gates behind him. “And through these gates stands Zeus and the road to Olympus.” The reporter tried not to chuckle.
“You realize that we’re in your basement and that this home was built in 1976, right?” The reporter asked him, a smarmy smile carving through his slender jawline.
“Fool!” shouted Hercules. “If you do not believe me, than look upon it yourself!” Hercules opened the gates, heaving his strength as he pushed the massive white boards back and they swung inward. A rolling mist flowed through the threshold and overwhelmed the reporter and the camera, the reporter coughing as the clouds cleared, and before them was a floating path of rocks among thin air. Lightning snapped between the storm clouds which crowded around Mount Olympus’s hovering base, far ahead on the path. Pegasus flew between floating islands where others like Poseidon and Athena reigned.
“Wow,” the reporter said- his face blank with amazement. In front of him, Zeus smiled as he molded a hovering, twitching ball of electricity between his hands. “That’s…uh- I got nothing.” The reporter dropped the microphone and left. "That shit's real. It's all real," he could be heard saying as he walked out of frame.
| 2014-03-19T10:47:08 | 2014-03-19T09:47:45 | 49 | 14 |
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest. | It had been a year since the first dragon returned. Apparently global warming was good for something, because the dragons brought magic and faes and all sorts of mythical things. And global warming brought the end of global warming, thank the gods, as we had conjured up some ridiculous set of spells that did something, I think it draws carbon dioxide from the air and turns it into something, but that's besides the point.
Today I'm going to set off on my first ever quest.
Magic was quickly replacing technology, but that doesn't mean tech just went out the window, no, it got an upgrade. Magically connected wifi all across the globe, hell yeah. I checked my phone and pulled up my Quest Log. Well Quest Log being the app everyone that wants to get hired for a quest uses.
My first quest was simple, wipe out some goblins, gotta start somewhere, right?
The location was fairly nearby, and the goblins hadn't become a threat yet, but the city leaders thought that it was only a matter of time. Doesn't matter as long as they pay me what I want. And for a first quest this had a pretty damn good price.
$500,000 to wipe out this encampment.
That price tag might make it seem dangerous, but in reality that's a measly sum for some of the more elite adventurers, plus the city has no idea what it's doing when it comes to all this new magic stuff, they tried to keep their head in the ground until someone nearly got killed by it.
I drove to the outside of the encampment and parked my car ok the hill above it. Alright I should have most of my gear, let's get started.
There's about a dozen goblins in all. They've got tens and a campfire and are outfitted with spears for the most part.
I raise my Steyr AUG and put the first goblin's head in my crosshairs. Breathe in. Hold. Squeeze.
The rifle bucks a little bit, recoil taking hold, but the goblin falls in an instant. The rest of them gather around the center of the camp, big mistake.
I flip the fire mode selector to burst, this AUG was specially commissioned thanks to my adventurers license.
With just a few more well placed shots the goblins all fall, ugh, goblins are fucking disgusting. I rifle through their camp and find some interesting stuff, little bit of gold, some jewelry, and a magic ring that I'll have to get identified later.
That was it? Kinda feels like I cheated, but who cares, I'm getting paid!
I return to the city and get my reward, deposited straight into my bank account. Sitting down at my computer I look at the next couple of quests. One for a young dragon's bounty catches my eye, but I'm gonna need a party for that. | That's enough, I've had it
I'm over my menial ways
Mundane and repeating
Day after day
These reports and this filing
It's always the same
I want some adventure
A real life role playing game
To quest and to loot
Against tremendous foes
To travel and shoot
Magical bows
*And arrows?*
Yes arrows, thank you Karen
*No problem Steve*
*Can you get down from the desk please Steve?*
Uhh, yeah sure, I'm doing a thing here Jim.
*Yeah, I can see that Steve, but you're distracting others.*
Right sorry.
I'll wear armour, ride horseback
Across mystical lands
I'll fight dragons and demons
In mercenary bands
I'll be home in time for tea
With my fairest of maidens
*Don't you forget, Steve*
*I want that report on my desk by*
Three
*Yes, three.*
| 2017-11-25T08:21:50 | 2017-11-25T03:27:28 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] The more extreme the hair and eye color one has, the more powerful their magic is. Your twin was born with white eyes and white hair, the strongest magician alive. You were born with black eyes and black hair with the ability to nullify ALL magic. | Moon and Sun was what we were referred to as. When we were born our mother named us, our father embraced us, and The Elders sent us to the Shoal to be trained.
With snow driven hair and pearl kissed eyes, Moon's magical affinity was more than that. Was love enough? If not, all I can say Moon's affair with magic was of untapped potential. She went beyond excellence in the healing arts, necromancy, metamorphosis, generalization, summoning, and multiple fields capable of making my head hurt. Nothing was left untouched, unexplored. It didn't matter to her whether it was white or black. She ventured, and she captured.
She was the envy of our class among the neon blue, pinks, green, aquamarines. Always in the archives, she welcomed anyone and everyone interested in learning, in improvement. Her iris\-less gaze peered at her peers, ready to teach them while understanding her unbelievable status was what they sought. Sometimes, her thick, ebony curls bounced in pity, other times sympathy.
I stood to the sides. A blemish on her legacy. Sun. Touched by the marvelous sun, my dark skin and dark hair and colorless eyes seared in obsidian made me my sister's immediate opposite. Not a single drop of magic ability ran through my veins. Surrounded in a sea of colorful magic users, I was the black fish among them, and how they whispered,.
*"Is that her? Is that Moon's Sun?"*
*"A black sun if I have ever seen one."* As if I were her pet, a toy she could pick and choose at her whim, *"Did you know she cannot perform magic? She is utterly useless at it, look at how Moon leers at her."*
A defect was what they deemed me, despite my sister's strength. The Elders and Shoal Directors were unsure of where my capabilities lied. They sensed something terrible, something powerful about me, and yet, their inept magical properties were not strong enough to discern it. Had they sharpened their schools instead of harping about my lack of, they might have figured it out.
Magical nullification. On paper it doesn't sound terrible or powerful, but in a society relying greatly on magical strength, this was frightening. Moon discovered it before I did. I believe, even today, she suspected an unknown quality to my black eyes and black hair. It occurred when we were three, and she wanted to experiment on me. Ah, the second she tried, I glared, and my defense activated.
Such a shock it was for her own experiment to turn against her, to turn within her, and suddenly cease to exist, and she kept her distance, staring from afar. Not out of shame. But of fear.
Or so I thought.
"Please, Sun."
"That is not my name."
"And what does it matter?" A cauldron bubbled on the stove. Hemlock hissed into my nostrils, "You answer to it, and if this works, it could solve all our problems."
"Ours?" We were former students of The Shoal, the most reputable magical arts university in the country, and perhaps, out of convenience we decided to work for The Shoal \- in one way or another, "This your problem. Not mine. And to think what they will do to them if I were to agree with it?"
She poured the cauldron's contents into three glass bottles. White. Black. Grey. "They will not like it. But they will be unable to do anything about it. After all, this is a demonstration for my students."
"Exactly." Closing my book shut, I glared, "I am an academic library. There is no reason for me to participate in your little science experiment."
"And you are my infamous twin sister, the magic\-less mage." Rushing to my side, she clasped my hands until her nails dug into my skin, "If you were to do this, you would be on the center stage. You could be free."
"And you would be \-,"
"Also free."
Despite society's perspective, my sister and I never demonstrated any animosity towards one another. Jealousies couldn't be avoided. Some days I wanted to be her, or to be more like her. She made it look easy to walk through a crowd with a warm, graceful smile on her lips, waving to everyone and anyone in her direction. But as she knelt before me, pleading for my assistance, perhaps, I realized that she too had scarified and lost much more than I imagined.
"Yes, I will do this for you."
When she smiled, I knew I would come to despair over my decision.
"Now, you do not have to stand there. You do not have to actually participate." She explained excitedly, "All you have to do is sit in the audience. You will be transcribing the demonstration for the library, correct?"
Students and teachers alike started to swarm in the lecture hall like locusts. I shifted my communication tablet in my arms, "Yes, yes, now will you please hurry. I know what I must do."
What occurred on that day I still cannot properly describe. Moon kept her secrets close to her chest. I know her latest experiment included a combination of absorption and physics. She somehow realized my magic nullification worked within the body, so yes, while I nullified magic, if someone resisted strong enough to my magic \-\-\- their magic would turn inward before ceasing altogether.
What she wanted to do was grab hold of that single second and use it to slip away, to disappear, into what, into where? She did not tell me. She told no one.
As I transcribed, Moon stared into me, her Sun, and she demonstrated her brilliance for the last time. I marked her active magic through the sea of other apparent magic. and locked on it. Her magic intertwined with mine, and her agonized grin told me all I needed to know. But still, in the half of a second, she reassured me.
"Let me go. Let me see all and more," was her ghostly whisper.
And she crumbled, for this was what happened, her smile agonized briefly before her body exploded in stardust
Screams, panic erupted in the lecture hall. I sat in my seat, unable to accept what happened, and at the same time, fully understanding what she had accomplished. She would not come back from this. She did not come back from this.
These days I live comfortably in my sister's shadow. There are people who run at the sight of my cane, of the sight of my still black hair and black eyes, having grown darker with age, and there are people sneer in my direction for having eclipsed the great, ever loving white Moon.
I feel all the greater for it. | It was a dark night, filled with the flickering light of stars that shined in the sky. The wind blew softly, filling the air with the rustle of the leaves it touched. The steps i took towards the nearby flatland made crunchy noise as each step contacted the gravel i walked upon. It was a peaceful night to face my corrupted brother.
My brother was born with powerful magical abilities as shown in his purest color of white on his hair and within his eyes. His personality wasn't quite as pure as one would've hoped. A few years back, he was kicked out of a corporation and soon became homeless. As time went on, he started to commit crime and began using his powerful magical abilities doing so. Eventually he became infamous as he had killed many celebrities that he deemed not worthy of the riches they behold, and a powerful criminal organization seeked him out and offered him a place within the organization. He accepted the offer. I've heard he's now the leader of a criminal organisation.
I wasn't born with any magical abilities. But my power was still powerful; magical nullification. This was because of my vanta black hair and eyes. Everyone that saw me the first time would think i'd be a super villain or something like that. But i'm a really nice person and i'm actually a really important asset for the hero organization. I'm not doing great in social life due to the color of my hair, but i have my ways dealing with it, but i'm not down in the dumps where my brother is now. I still have to work like a normal person though.
I saw a figure with the pure white hair and eyes. I took a step towards. Then i took a few more until he was within ten meters from me. He seemed to be wearing the same usual garments. Red t-shirt, black collar shirt over it and some nice blue jeans i had gifted him. I took deep breath. "Brother." I said. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" My brother said with a grizzly voice. I nodded slowly. "Yes, it has been. I really didn't want this to happen this way." I exclaimed as i scratched my well groomed, yet very short beard. Brother picked a red knife out of his pocket and began flipping it on his hand. "Still, you have to die. It really is a shame, but i think it had to be this way. Still, you're with the hero organization, and you're a powerful asset to them. It would hurt them severely if they lost you."
He threw the knife straight upwards and a white energy flickered off his hand, casting a powerful lighting bolt towards me. As the lighting bolt made contact with me, the energy dissipated with a could of flickering lights. "As expected. A magnus-tier lighting bolt doesn't even affect you. How problematic." He said as he grinned with a really fanatic expression. Then he moved his hand in a shape of a hook, quickly moving his hand in a clockwise circle. As he made the movement, the ground under me shot up, making me go flying in the air as the pillar that he made started to grumble from my power. Then he swiped the air sideways, making me go flying towards the trees hundred meters to the left. As i was about to make contact, the air slowed down and cushioned my fall as my power had nullified the power of the wind to slow me down.
As i walked towards him once more, his knife landed back on his hand. He started laughing in a fast, crickley way. "Impressive, Travis." I sighed. "I am immune to anything you do against me. You can try, Ryan von Valencia." Quickly his laugh ended with anger in his face. "Do not call me by that name! I am no longer part of the Valencia family!" Immediately as he began saying that, a massive fire ball appeared within his hand. He then leaned back a little and went into the same position a baseball pitcher would go in, then threw it. As it made contact with me and dissipated, i felt pain within my chest. As the fire cleared away, i saw the red knife was stuck to my chest and had pierced my heard with extreme precision. I coughed up blood as i took a step back. "The poison will take effect shortly. It will be painful, brother." My brother said, turned his back against me and started to walk away. I took my Colt M1911 out of my pocked and shouted. "Brother!" He turned to face towards me as i pressed the trigger. The bullet traveled and pierced the side of his skull, destroying a part of his head.
It was a dark night, filled with the flickering light of stars that shined in the sky. The wind blew softly, filling the air with the rustle of the leaves it touched. It was a beautiful life, and if there is a new one, i hope my brother and i could get by. | 2018-05-18T11:49:45 | 2018-05-18T10:05:38 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] Tired of the supervillain life, you engage in a final battle with your arch-nemesis and manage to fake your death. After living in solitude for several years, your nemesis reappears on your doorstep with one question: "Why?" | “Oh hello! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, you want some cookies? I made a fresh batch.”
Hero man looked confused as hell, and I couldn’t help myself from laughing.
“Dude you look dumb, come inside it’s warmer in there.”
He comes in, still dumbfounded. It might be because whenever I *used* to greet him, it would be with a death machine, but here I am wearing a ‘kiss the cook’ apron and listening to the billboard songs from the 60s.
“Why? Why did you stop being a villain?” He sounds upset, like a woman trying to figure out why her husband cheated on her.
“Sigh, I guess I just didn’t feel it anymore, Rick. I used to enjoy fighting you all the time. I would wake up every morning, ready to kidnap your girlfriend or whatever at the time, use a new invention to terrorize people, or even just be a cunt to people. But then I saw a video on the internet that made me think, do I really like what I am doing with my life? Sure I have the knowledge to cure half of the earths problems, but I used it to make things that rarely lasted that long in the end.” I pulled up the video, and it was labeled,’are you really happy with who you are?’
Yeah it’s fucken cheesy get over it.
“So you saw what you really wanted in life, and what exactly was that?” Hero man, or by his actual identity Rick, asked me.
“I wanted to just settle down. I had spent the first 45 years of my life building stuff to fuck with people, but that’s always been me. Why couldn’t I settle down and find something quiet and nice? That’s what I thought to myself, that day when I ‘died.’” I grabbed a cookie, and gave it a good chomp. It tasted *Evil*, just the way I like it. Hot and crumbly, like sand that’s been in an oven but not long enough to become glass.
“Wanna do one last battle? I’ve been itching for a fight, and everyone stopped doing crime once they realized I couldn’t fight you.” He perked up when he said this, and I knew deep down that part of me wanted to. But I couldn’t.
“No.” I say, with a big sigh. He wanted me to go against the very thing I have been building myself up for the past ten years. I had the best life ever in my little shack, with a doomsday headquarters beneath it, why would I do a major battle to destroy that?
“Alright. But do you at least have something to replace you, so I can continue to fight evil?” I knew he knew what I knew was hiding in my bunker.
“You X-ray abusing asshole, wanna test it out?” I am getting a little excited too.
“Yes!”
“Alright. Follow me.” | Well it's a very easy answer, do you remember when you knocked me on the ground and just before I faked my own death, well the reason is I have the ability to travel in time and I traveled into the future after I defeated you and I killed you. But I was also brought up on charges for murder I was found guilty, and I was settings to 100 years in prison. During that time I was able to travel back and forth through time again, and I saw your upbringing , I saw how you were abused as a child, I saw how your father burned your arm with the iron and I felt sorry for you. I saw an alternate universe where I actually died during the fight. And after I died I saw your future as well, in your future you changed you've done good for yourself you realized that you had to break a force of good. And I knew that that was not going to happen if I didn't fake my death. So that is the reason. I hope you don't think less of me but as you can see, mr. President you've done well for yourself. | 2020-11-12T19:29:36 | 2020-11-12T16:18:34 | 47 | 11 |
[WP] Dwarves are notorious for their love of alcohol. One day a dwarf goes sober and discovers it grants them amazing powers such as being able to remember what happened the night before. | "Ye've got to talk some sense into him," said Auntie Arm-n'-Hammer. "Och, it's just not right!"
"Fine." Papa BlackPorter finished his stout and wiped the creamy head from his mustache and beard. "But ye've got to work the bellows in my place until I'm back!"
Papa BlackPorter climbed up the long, long, long staircase to the stone gate. He hefted the gate with all his might; the gate to the surface was not meant to be opened and closed very often and resisted his efforts to leave the mountain. He blinked in the sunlight and wondered how his son could tolerate the surface.
The last time Papa BlackPorter had seen his son DeepStone, the young dwarf had set up a tent just outside the gate. The tent was gone. Papa BlackPorter spun slowly and examined his blurry surroundings. Dwarven eyes can focus finely on objects up-close, but rarely have reason to focus on objects in the distance; he really had to strain his vision to sight a tall, tall, tall stone tower a mile up the mountain.
He hiked to it and ran his hands over the tower's walls. The workmanship of the masonry was as good as DeepStone's fingerprint to the experienced Papa BlackPorter. "Come out, son, I know yer in there! It's not right, leavin' the mountain and buildin' towers! It's not the dwarven way!"
When he heard no answer, Papa BlackPorter circled the tower looking for an entrance. He found none; DeepStone had built the tower around himself from the inside. Papa BlackPorter took his trusty pickaxe from his belt and tunneled through the tower wall.
Inside the tower there was a staircase. Papa BlackPorter sighed as he climbed. Dwarves should never be so near the sky!
At the tower's ceiling there was a wooden hatch. Papa BlackPorter opened it and saw his son DeepStone sitting on the tower's ceiling's center. "Come down, son, yer gonna get sky-poisoning up here!"
DeepStone was unnaturally tanned by the sun. He wore black goggles to protect his eyes from alchemy ingredients arranged before him. He watched a Bunsen burner boil brown sludge in a glass flask as he powdered pebbles with a pestle.
Papa BlackPorter approached with a canteen of emergency alcohol. "Son, how long has it been since yer last drink?"
"I drink pure water, now, father. I pull it from the air."
"I mean a stiff drink, lad."
"Not since I left the underground."
Papa BlackPorter opened the canteen and put it under his son's beard. The canteen's contents were strong enough to made DeepStone's mustache curl. "Drink, son. Please."
"Do you wonder why there aren't any dwarven wizards?" asked DeepStone. His father had no answer. "It's because we don't apply ourselves."
"Yer not talkin' right."
"Father, look."
DeepStone put down his pestle and donned a thick glove. With the glove, he turned off the Bunsen burner and tilted the glass flask of boiled brown sludge. He poured the sludge through a screen.
On the screen remained flecks of blue metal. Papa BlackPorter covered his mouth. "Is that---"
"Mythril," said DeepStone. "Material of Elven Magicians."
"Did you---" Papa BlackPorter squinted at the blue flecks. "Did you make this with magic?"
"Dwarven magic. Alchemy. It's not flashy stage-show magic, but I figure it oughta take the Elves down a peg or two."
"Aw, that's my boy!" Papa BlackPorter hugged his son close. "I can't claim to understand ye, but I approve of yer alternative lifestyle!" | Oh how much the world can change in just half a year. The great kingdoms of mankind reduced to quarries for the Dwarves to build their fortresses, the sacred groves and forests of the Elves nothing more than kindling for dwarven forges.
Noone knew just how it had begun, how this could have happened. Countless tongues cried out to their gods and heard no answer, scholars buried themselves into fruitless discussions, one more outlandish than the other... and the Dwarves conquered. More and more and more, with unending vigor and hunger for victory.
Thrrustan, 'The Ascended', still lead them onwards with a triumphant grin on his face. He had been the first. The first to ascend. To become more. To realize the full potential of dwarvenkind. Whatever he had done to his people: They had changed, for better and for worse all at once. The differences had been subtle at first, unnoticable to an outsider, but they had spread through dwarven society like a wildfire.
Their charming mumbling had disappeared - now, dwarven mouths everywhere gave orders in a cold, harsh language and with painfully precise pronunciation.
Their were faster than ever before, scaling buildings and crossing plains with equal ease as if something had set free even more power in their stout physique. They were tireless now, their cities brimming with the sounds of forges and soldier's boots day and night without pause, as if they had lost all need of sleep.
They were merciful overlords. A year or two passed and the reckless conquerers settled down again, ruling over their realm from sea to sea, undisputed and terrifying in their might. But all was not bad for elves and humans: The far-famed dwarven ale was generously distributed among their long-legged subjects and gave them something to look forward to after a hard day's work while their overlords feasted on whatever game they desired - and paired it with the only drink reserved for their noble palates: Pure dwarven spring water from their old home underground. | 2017-12-31T08:13:51 | 2017-12-31T08:10:56 | 140 | 100 |
[WP]: Everyone got a tiny, mundane blessing when they were born. Usually they are so small that people don't even notice them - always hitting the green light in traffic, etc. Yours would be virtually useless, but you figured out a creative loophole that allowed you to rise to the top of the world. | "This isn't possible!" the man screamed, as the guards dragged him into my office. "How! How the hell did you find me?"
"That's not the important thing, Mr. Spencer." I said, calmly, as the guards pinned him face down to my desk. "The important thing is after my firm put up the money for your bail, you attempted to skip out on your court date. Unacceptable, Mr. Spencer. *Unacceptable."*
"Your damn tracker *can't* have worked!" he snarled, as they lifted up his shirt, exposing a thin, recently healed scar. "I was picked up in an air car with a lead-lined interior! They flew me around the city for hours and *verified* we weren't followed or observed from any angle! My safe house is 30 feet underground, inside a F*araday cage!* There's no signal on Earth that can penetrate that!*"*
"Apparently there is." I muttered, as I withdrew the extractor from my desk drawer and placed it over the implant site on his back.
"How did you do it?" he pleaded, a wavering, almost panicked obsession creeping into his tone. "I don't even care that you caught me anymore, I just want to know *how!* Your men were at my location before I could even have the damn implant pulled out! It's not possible, it---*AHG!"*
He snarled in pain as the extractor's laser scalpel automatically made a quick, clean cut, sucked out the implanted capsule, and then resealed the incision with a medical adhesive.
"How do I always know where each shipment I insure for my clients is? How do I know the location of every priceless piece of art or errant trust-fund child I'm hired to look after? These are the secrets of my trade, Mr. Spencer. They're not for the likes of you." I said calmly, putting the extractor away and palming the implant out of his sight.
"Tell me! Please, for the love of God, *how* did you do it?!" he wailed, tears of frustration filling his eyes as my guards dragged him away. I shook my head -- bad risk. I shouldn't have given him the chance to try and screw me over. But then, there was never *really* a chance he'd get away with it.
I looked down at the metal capsule in my hand, and smiled as I opened it, revealing the tiny, old fashioned brass key inside.
They were common when I was a kid, but these days electronic locks have replaced them for almost everything. If not for some lateral thinking, that would have made my particular gift almost useless.
You see, unlike most people, I never, *ever* lose my keys. | My fingers drummed on the blackjack table. Currently, I was at 17, but that would have to do. My blessing should do the rest. The man across from me was already starting to fume, his brows coming together at how ridiculously lucky it seemed that I was. However, my blessing wasn't winning card games like he assumed.
Before the tournament, I accidentally bumped into a lady carrying an oversized, overpriced cup of coffee. She cursed at me as her caffeine boost splashed all over her, slightly scalding her in some spots. "I'm so sorry. Let me help." Her face contorted in rage as she yelled obscenities. My 'blessing' felt more like a curse.
My blessing wasn't winning card games like my competitor assumed. It was putting me in situations that would cause others to be angry at me. | 2018-06-30T14:13:13 | 2018-06-30T12:36:03 | 8,960 | 2,057 |
[WP] You and a dead artist share the ability to see colors others can't. His paintings become a global phenomenon, but his images are much more sinister than they appear. | "This is the first of the collection," she said. "It's called *Portrait of the Artist as a Child.* Do you see how powerful it is? The image of the child, alone in the centre? Such a small figure. Such a large, empty room."
It wasn't empty.
"This was his follow-up work, *Beginning.* A wonderful title, I've always thought. Autobiographical again, although he does move away from this in his later work. Here, he has drawn himself cradling his childhood dog. See his clenched fist? The rage, and anguish he must have been feeling? The visceral imagery - the dog was split open like this from being hit by a car - really captures the shock of the moment."
It wasn't car. There was a scalpel in his hand.
"How did you first get into Mr. Aaronovich's work?" She asked.
I swallowed. "I saw one of his prints in the subway. It looked interesting, so I went to the exhibition. I..." I couldn't help looking at my feet. "I was... intrigued, I guess, from how," I rubbed my eyes, "*different,* they looked. The originals. I've been following his work ever since."
She beamed. "Oh, you absolutely have to see the originals. Prints never do it justice."
"No," I said. "No, they don't. Not with him."
A pull at my arm. She drew me towards the next painting. "This is *First Love*. See how he captures the vivacity of the girl? The colours... oh, such beautiful colours. Such life in the cheeks and the lips. You can feel how he felt about her. Sadly, this girl died. Heartbreaking, really. Carbon Monoxide poisoning. Such a tragic accident."
Oh, I doubt it.
"I'm glad our subway advertising campaign worked. Most of the people who come here have seen his images on our social media campaign. He's really very active."
My hands didn't know what to do with themselves, so I took a sip of the cheap champagne. "I actually messaged him," I said. "Reached out. He was very... quick. Quick to respond."
A smile broke across her face. "That's down to me. I told him he had to put himself out there. He's quite a recluse, you know. Not exactly a 'people person'."
"No," I said. "I gathered that. What's this one called?"
"This," she said, "is called *The Dream.* Just a man. Just a man, standing alone on a hill. I've always wondered what it meant."
The hill was made out of corpses. My head itched. I scratched it, self-consciously.
"A true artist. With a true artist's temperament. A true artist's... unique outlook. Here, for example. He asked us to hang a blank canvas here. I couldn't understand it myself," she said, drawing me to the other side of the room, "but he insisted. Here it is."
The canvas wasn't blank. In clear letters were printed the words: *I know. You're Next.* | It's a famous image, now, often adorning postage stamps and the empty spaces over suburban mantles: a good-looking young man, smiling broadly at the viewer, with a swaddled infant cradled in his arms. In the young man's eyes, something difficult to describe: a knowing spark of wit, perhaps, accentuated by the slight curve of a lip at its vanishing point. *Portrait #3,* it's called, although the artist never painted a #1 or 2. In the background, a surreal landscape of swirls and mist.
For most of the world, the painting is black and white, a monochromatic statement on the complex joys of fatherhood. But I can see the full range of hues this artist used to paint, and to me the picture is something else entirely. I see much the same image, except for one small detail: to me, the man's long teeth are stained the unmistakable color of fresh-spilled blood.
*****
*Thanks for reading! 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/)!* | 2016-01-30T15:20:46 | 2016-01-30T14:11:01 | 583 | 46 |
[WP] Humans are the deadliest, and rarest, species in the known universe. Often, search parties go missing due to a singular encounter with a human ship. It has recently come to light that there is an entire planet full of them. | The Universal Council was in chaos.
For a relatively short amount of time, the encounters with the Sol-res, known to themselves as Humans, have dominated the headlines. These beings which existed in the absolute fringe of the galaxy known as M-801 had become a thorn in the Council's side over several cycles.
While not the biggest or strongest species, they made up for it with their brutality, tenacity, hearty build and sheer numbers. Ships lost in that particular part of the galaxy have reported as many as several thousand on a single ship. *Several thousand.*
There are top-tier Universal Council warships that barely have a hundred soldiers, of any species. They are also known in studies to be ridiculously immune to most biological threats. Their species not only consumes Dihydrogen Monoxide, they need it to live. They come from an atmosphere composed mainly of Nitrogen and Oxygen, a atmosphere known for slowly poisoning those not acclimated to it, at a rate so miniscule at first one would not know their own fate until the effects became clear. They can survive impalement, dismemberment, and even the failing of certain vital organs. When injured, they can become even more violent, downing opponents for up to an hour prior to immobilization and/or death.
However despite all this; they are rare. No one on the Council had actually see one of these beings in person. All information about them relayed from ships that are now classified as "lost en route". Rumors exist that humans are sought after by some distant species for a variety of reasons. Thus abductions, smuggling, and piracy are rumored to run with reckless abandon in the sector of M-801. M-801 is since derided by many by the adoption of a nickname the dirtlings had given it some time ago, "Milky Way".
"Which brings me to my point..." Lady Mer'zazzi announced to the chamber as she glanced around for confirmation amongst the ranks.
"We have learned from intel provided by our explorers that the Humans are not just a pirate species. Council; they have been revealed to have a home planet located just off of a star in "Milky Way" known as Sol. They have no centralized government, no galactic treaty, no Council approved ship documentation, and a astounding 7000+ languages. We've only had time to translate the most widely spoken... And from the audio logs of The Xvarri Coled, lost half a cycle ago, we have translated this..."
The clip played as they all watched on the display. The shot leveled out to reveal several humans of different colors glaring at the oculus.
"To whomever is watching these. Hello. We're going to let you in on a little secret; Humanity doesn't take kindly to your exploitation of our flightspace. We also don't appreciate the abductions of many of our loved ones, nor the wanton murders of civilians committed by ships with these emblems."
The crowd angrily protested as they saw the Universal Council logo revealed on the screen. The shot then snapped back to the group of Humans.
"We want you to understand we don't appreciate your hostility towards us, or our homes. We wish to meet on peaceful terms with your leaders. But if war is what you seek..."
Mer'zazzi herself felt ill at what she knew was next. The human yanked up something into view, and the crowd collectively reeled in horror. In his hand he held the severed head of a Xvarri, one of the most feared beings in space. Many in the room froze in fear and trauma at the sight, and several even left the chamber.
"War is what you'll get. We have a saying where I'm from; don't start none and there won't be none. I hope we've made ourselves clear. Tread with caution."
The feed cut off finally as the room sat in utter silence.
"...Readings have measured the population of the "Humans"." Mer'zazzi began numbly, "To be in the billions, Council."
She listened as the room began to panic again.
"The Council," Leader Dre-Hi announced suddenly, "requests a mission to be fulfilled Lady Mer'zazzi."
"Yes my liege?" Mer'zazzi bowed.
"Prepare a expedition to M-801." Dre-Hi commanded, "We shall see what these dirtlings have in store for us."
---
TL;DR, We gangsta space barbarians ya'll.
r/Jamaican_Dynamite | We do not fear many things; the hive has conquered many and learned much. When we rebelled against the Midnight Host centuries ago, we grew stronger with every battle; every enemy conquered added their strengths to us. We broke the Gilded Claws, despite their stubborn defiance. We found the Hidden Eyes, their vigilance not enough. We defeated the Mourning Suns, our cunning the greater. We have conquered all our brothers and sisters, their queens lay across our halls as trophies. We proved ourselves to be harder, better, faster, and stronger. We are more than any of them combined in their prime.
Yet, we have found a swarm that out paces us. This devouring horde may be smaller and weaker; their tenacity is like nothing we have seen before. When we stumbled across them, they seemed easy prey. We cornered them back towards their water and iron coated twin planets. Every battle was in our favor at first, they would take down two of our ships at a cost of one of theirs. But then they started taking three, then four, then five. We had to place more resources to replenish our fleets. We could not let some miserable squabble defy us. But they started pushing back us back to the rim, their fury hotter, and their viciousness greater. They took our fallen, our weapons, our engines, and they changed them.
The Devourers amassed a grand fleet, though still smaller than our fleets. We expected them to destroy our remaining ships in the system. We planted fleets out of reach to move in and entrap them. Instead their fleet vanished. We did not know what they were planning, but we took the chance to rush our forces towards their home to cripple them. Their defenders proved themselves tenacious fighters, but their numbers were lower than we thought. During the siege, their grand fleet appeared above our homes. They slipped though galaxies and stars under our grasp into our heart. They killed many of our queens, crushed our halls, and set a nuclear flame across our homes. They lost much of their ships due to their brazen attack, but escaped with half their numbers.
We lost contact with our fleet in their system. Their grand fleet trapped ours between their defenders. We have placed outposts near that accursed system. We have awoken a swarm, and it is coming. They know where we are. They know us better than we do. It is not matter of conquering them; it is a matter if it is us or them that shall devour the other. Our Golden Age is gone, it is twilight and the nightmare shall come. We fear it will not be us that awakes from this coming night.
| 2017-11-08T18:30:31 | 2017-11-08T17:54:29 | 5,537 | 604 |
[WP] Everybody has the ability to bring another person back to life, at the cost of their own life. You are a suicidal celebrity who can't stay dead because of fans constantly sacrificing their lives to resurrect you. | My suicides started when my mother died.
For years, I've been known world-wide for my music. As a songwriter, I use my complex lexicon to bring to life very real, very private experiences in most people's lives. My lyrics evoke tears of pain, mostly, from those who have suffered significant loss or regret. I don't particularly enjoy it anymore, but it's what I must do. I rely on my adoring fans.
Some would call me sick and twisted, if they knew what I've been doing. I've been called a psychopath by my own sister. Nothing, however, will change me... Except a permanent death.
When my mother died of cancer, I had just released my first album. My music then was popular amongst the depressed population purely by coincidence. But once I killed myself to bring my mother back and came back to life rather quickly, I realized I could capitalize on my fame at the expense of my now target audience. Everyone I ever loved... My uncle, my grandmother, my best friend... Could once again join me.
And so I started putting all of my heart and soul into my work. I wrote songs that would strike severe depression in the hearts of those who held on to a sliver of hope, and I wrote more songs that would lead those people to an end. And then I gave them reason to do it quickly.
"This one is for you, Uncle Drake," I said, smiling as I jumped off the building. An hour later, I awoke in my hospital bed, the TV broadcasting the breaking story of how a teenager committed suicide to bring back her idol.
A few days later, I shot myself for Grandmama.
Weeks later, I hung myself for my recently deceased grandfather (heart attack from the shock of seeing my grandma alive again).
Months went by, and I brought back everyone who meant something to me, and no one questioned my motives. My lyrics were so sad, everyone assumed I was simply depressed. And so I wrote, releasing a total of twenty-four albums and reviving everyone I wanted... Needed to see again.
As I woke up in a hospital again, this time after bringing back my friend, I heard the newscaster on the television. "Parents are concerned about a new social media movement among teens and young adults called, 'Hashtag, die for Dani,' where supporters of the movement commit suicide for the music idol, Dani DiLaura. Reporters say fans of Dani enjoy her music because of the relatable lyrics and strong, emotion-evoking messages. More suicides have been committed on her behalf than any other celebrity, as she continues to kill herself multiple times a year. Professionals are asking whether she wants to live or..."
"Dani."
I turned my head and saw my sister enter the room.
"You need to stop this. Hundreds of people have died for you, and for what? Your own selfish game where you lure people to suicide so you can guarantee your life after death?"
Laughing, I looked back to the television and answered, "If you're so concerned, bring them back to life. I have plenty of fans to spare on our behalf."
"You better never use one of them to bring me back, Dani. Stop this madness now, before I..."
"Before you what? Kill me?"
And so I laughed again, turning up the television as my sister walked out. "Who's next?" | I open my eyes again and see John, my overtaker. Damnit, not again. Instead of preparing me to be dead forever, John prepares me to wake up again. And again. And again. Mostly he just makes sure I'm clean, dressed, and then listens to my tirade of swearing.
I've tried everything: jumped from buildings, electrocution, stabbing, got shot, blew myself up, hell I even stole a a groundhog once and drove off a cliff. It all started with my accidental admission into the Darwin club. Like a dumbass I stepped into an open elevator with no elevator there and fell to my death. There's even video of me looking up and down first and still stepping into the shaft. Somehow, this made me famous.
People wanted to see how I die next. Would I do something stupid again? John says he's overtaken me about two dozen times now. I've only done something stupid once more with a wrecking ball, which got me yet another page on the Darwin website.
I just need to die a really boring, unexciting death. Should I recite pi until I die of dehydration? Or go for a swim with the fishes? It has been 5 years that I've lived this time and Google shows that the trend that is my name is flatlining. Perfect. Let's hope it stays that way. Flatlined.
As my knife slices through the rope holding up the piano I notice a traffic camera across the street. Damnit.
***
I open my eyes again and see John, my overtaker. | 2016-07-06T21:54:49 | 2016-07-06T20:07:02 | 423 | 51 |
[WP] A human is the deadliest species in the galaxy. It has redundant organs and can lose all of its limbs and not die. Human skin is tough, can absorb forms of kinetic attack, and rated to withstand both cold and heat extremes. Their bites are deadly. They irradiate and poison themselves for fun. | "We hereby convene this court to review Vizir Sintilas's actions in star system HJS-12127. Vizir, please tell us about the encounter you had with the Pasha, and please elaborate on how a new species, hooman, helped you defeat them."
Sintilas allowed his antennae to twitch in a display of compliance before responding. "The human, who calls himself John, joined our crew after we investigated his home world called Earth. It is in a star system near HJS-12127, and we happened upon it by following some curious radio signals. We found John partaking in recreational activities outside of one of the many cities on his planet. Once he understood we weren't going to probe his excrement orifice, he was eager to come aboard." Sintilas paused and took a sip of nectar with his proboscis before continuing.
"We then proceeded on to star HJS-12127. That is when the Pasha attacked our ship, disabling our drives. They sent boarding parties and quickly overpowered our security crew. This is when John displayed his species' fearsome capabilities." A shudder worked its way through Sintilas, his antennae now stood rigid, pointing straight at the ceiling.
"We had done some observations of humans on their planet, observed how they lived and how they interacted. Seeing a human demonstrate their superiority with my own globes instead of through a console..it was a sight to behold."
"Once John understood that we were under attack, he sprang into action. Literally sprang, like a spring whose tension was released. He grabbed a nearby crew member, nearly crushing them with his fantastic strength, and asked about weapons. The crew member was too frightened and lost consciousness. I fully expected John to terminate the crew member, but he didn't and instead secured them into a nearby chair."
"These hoomans are an enigma. All that power, and yet they took care to not hurt a crew member." A murmer passed through the council chamber.
"That is correct. After John secured the crew member he ran out the compartment door and down the corridor. His footsteps reverberated throughout the whole ship...it was frightening. Even the Pasha heard him coming and stopped their attack. I can only imagine what they were thinking."
"Pasha, think? Ha, I'd love to see the cycle!" One of the council members guffawed, earning a few assenting responses from various other members.
"Regardless, Hi'Ti'Ahm, they stopped their attack and looked around. That is when John entered the cargo bay where they initially boarded. Honestly I'm amazed he knew found his way so quickly. It takes new crew members many cycles before they can find their way around the ship. John knew the way from when we first brought him aboard, barely a few cycles prior."
"What did John do in the cargo bay?"
"He grabbed one of our weapons, but couldn't operate it. That's when...when...that's when he used the weapon in a manner I am sure the designers never thought of."
Hi'Ti'Ahm scoffed again, "What? Did he rewire the power cell to overload and explode?"
"No, councilman. He turned it into a very effective club. The savagery in which he attacked the Pasha reminded me of the mythical Foli-Rah creature of children's bedtimes stories. He swung the weapon with such power that it sent Pasha flying everywhere. Many Pasha were killed on impact, others severely maimed. John defeated an entire boarding party by himself, where our own highly trained security crew failed. But he wasn't done then," Sintilas's antennae drooped.
"John boarded the Pasha's vessel and proceeded to annihilate the crew. Several Pasha actually managed to attack John directly, but their attacks were ineffective. Humans...their epidermis is tough. Has to be to survive in their suns light. The Pasha's weapons merely bounced off of John. I, I think some of them actually damaged John, but several cycles later there was no evidence that nothing had happened. Upon our own investigation, one Pasha had an odd wound around its neck. We couldn't figure out the type of weapon used to vanquish it. We asked John, and he replied that he merely used his mouth as his hands and legs were busy fighting off other Pasha."
"Bah, his mouth?! No creatures mandibles are that strong." A blob like creature said.
"The humans planet is full of creatures that have powerful mandibles. Humans have tamed many of them and call them their companions." Sintilas deadpanned...if his species was capable of such a thing.
Shock wound its way through the council.
"The Pasha ships are enormous, containing thousands of the vile creatures. Your report states that John eliminated them all?" An incredulous bird like creature whistled.
"Of everything I have reported and told you, that is perhaps the most frightening thing of all when it comes to humans. They can operate for cycles without rest. John spent the better part of 3 cycles clearing Pasha from their own ship. When he was finally finished, he smiled and said, 'All in a days work'"
\*\*\*\*
Not as riveting or as funny as I was going for. I deleted and restarted a few times, but I'm going to leave this as is. Hopefully a few of you enjoyed it =-)
| "What's that?" Karun asked her crew-mate as the sound of grating metal filled the cargo ship, "Is it that damned alien? What did I tell the captain about picking up that escape pod?" She was lashing her tentacle around furiously, causing Lodis to duck.
"Calm down," Lodis told her, adjusting the screen with her prehensile branch. He was so scared he couldn't even photosynthesize if he wanted to, "I'm doing a scan now. Root gas! It's moving through the air ducts!"
"This is whale ink!" Karun said, placing her tentacle on the weapons console. A white light scanned her and she grabbed the Hard-Air blaster from it's cubicle as the console slid open, "I'm not going down without a fight."
"You fool," Lodis said and moved his roots in the soil of his pot nervously. He glided on his anti-grav slider across the room and away from her, "It's in the main hallway now. That blasted weapon could punch a hole right in the hull!"
"So can that thing," Karun stated, pointing at the white blip tearing through the ship at an incredible speed. A warning light blipped to life showing the creature had ripped a door off of its hinges. The door was a solid 2 millimeters thick!
"What the hell is that thing?" Lodis yelled and slid into a dark corner, pulling in his petals protectively, "Damn the captain and his greed. I knew one day pulling in space junk would come to something like an alien monstrosity running rampant through our ship! I've seen the sci-fi vids!"
"Look, that blue dot," Karun said, "A crew member is going to try and stop it. That's Rally's signal if I'm not mistaken. What is he doing? Switch to his suit cam, Lodis!"
The plant slid forward just enough to flick the screen with it's branch and then retreated to the safety of his dark corner. They listened in horror as Rally's heavy breathing filled the sensors.
"I'm approaching the sounds," Rally said to the crew and she saw he was waving a military grade Hard-Air gun that put Karun's to shame. She would have blushed had she had a circulatory system.
"Coming through the door now... By all that is good!" Puff after puff came from his Hard-Air gun and the foot of the huge beast they had taken on board didn't even stop as it crushed him beneath it's heel, unnoticed.
"Well, his species *is* only 3 centimeters tall," Lodis offered, "Oh by the Great Root! Oh by the seven suns of..."
"Would you stop and tell me what the hell is so..." but before Karun could finish the door to the science quarters was ripped off of its hinges and the thing stood there. Karun felt her system shutting down in fright. "It's got two eyes. TWO!" and she was out like a light.
Lodis shivered in his roots as the thing made strange noises at him. Suddenly his universal translator, stored with billions of languages burst to life, "Hey, little plant dude! Where's the toilet, man? There's about to be a huge mess in here. Shit, what's this on my shoe?" When the thing lifted its shoe, Lodis noticed the smeared remains of Rally, lifted his branch, and fainted blissfully away.
"This is the weirdest shit ever," the human sighed, unzipping his pants, "I warned 'em."
| 2019-01-15T15:44:43 | 2019-01-15T12:32:31 | 417 | 233 |
[WP] A handful of people have been born with a dumb and useless superpower. The government has made sure to not let two of these people make contact with each other because when these two useless powers combine the world will be at risk. One day two of these people accidently meet | It wasn't like I wanted it to happen, hell, it wasn't even that I knew it would happen..it just did!
Our society has labeled my ilk as "Defects"; while the majority of our race has evolved into a species with extraordinary powers, the rest of us (the defects) just do stupid shit like turn into bread, or have a golden anus. Don't get me wrong, I'm not judging my comrades here its just that we're not all that special, at least not special enough to require around the clock supervision by our government friends.
So why am I writing this and why are you reading this right now? The answer for both is the same, you're wondering why the sky is always dark and food is nearly non-existent! For that, I truly am very sorry and I hope after you've finished reading this that you will forgive me and Charles.
It all started in 10th grade, when our powers "awaken" for the first time. Yes, just like puberty we not only begin to judge others but ourselves as well. After classmate after classmate was isolated in a glass room and taught how to bring forth their newly found abilities I was left in awe by what I might be able to do!
Then my turn came, I stood in the middle with my hand in front of my face to protect my eyes from the heat and brightness of the massive spotlight shined onto my face. I was injected, electrocuted and made to wait for two minutes before the voice overhead instructed me to 'concentrate, focus on the beating of your heart. Count the beats and when you feel as though you're going to pass out I want you to exhale".
So I did, I counted the beats and I exhaled like they asked me too....but nothing happened! Nothing shook, nothing moved, I didn't float hell I didn't even turn into toast. Then I heard the screams, through that thick glass I heard the blood curdling screams of my classmates and I knew something bad just happened.
When the door opened and I saw the nurse the look of horror on her face filled me with dread. You could tell she shit herself by what I had done and I mean that literally. Her uniform from the waist down was now brown and the stench perforating into my bubble of seclusion let me know she wasn't the only one.
I took a walk of shame that still haunts me to this day in my dreams. All of my classmates, the principle even the security guards were leaking bodily fluids and trying their best to conceal what had happened to them.
So I went about my life avoiding as many people as possible, if I lost my focus for even a moment everyone around me would evacuate their bowls in a painful and torrent way. I tried to think of any use my skill could have and besides being a walking laxative I really couldn't come up with any respectful and useful way for me to use my powers. Neither did the government as from 10th grade on I was provided my very own security guard, who happened to be sponsored by Depends.
Everything in my life was in seclusion until the day I fell ill and needed to stay at the hospital overnight. The nursing staff and doctors were screened before treating me and their name tags comprised of a post it note stuck onto those stupid tree shaped car fresheners.
The last night I was their, the last night most people remember of normalcy actually come to think of it. Well that was the night maintenance was replacing the faucets in the bathrooms with new touch-less ones.
Enter Charles, a burly man no more older than I. His real name I soon found out was not really "Charles" but since he was an illegal from Canada (borders were shut down after we evolved remember?) he changed his name to protect himself and get a fake social security number.
Anyways Charles enters the room and startles me, so much so that I lose control of my focus and cause him to shit himself. I attempt to apologize but am shocked to see him stripping off his clothes as they themselves go up in flames! He confides that his ability is, in his words "I dun turn shit to napalm".
Now at first we thought it was kind of funny, he can't go into public restrooms while others are using them for fear of starting someones asshole on fire. I can't be around people without worrying I'm going to make them shit themselves. Together we're just, bad karma I guess.
Everything seemed to be going ok, both of us had our abilities (if you want to call them that) under control. That is until we heard the fire alarms going off. For whatever reason, our powers were magnified and constantly active as soon as we both triggered them in each others presence! It didn't take long for the screaming to start and by the time we made our way outside we saw the ring of fire spreading rapidly.
We both stood and watched as the surrounding buildings started alarming, windows blowing open as flames shot out. It spread faster and faster until the entire night sky glowed amber and the stench of shit and burned flesh filled our nostrils.
The city was in chaos in just an hour, news reporters on TV suddenly burst into flames as they tried to asses what was happening around the country. The last transmission we received was via Telemundo around midnight before a European soccer match ended with the players no longer chasing a ball, but running off the field with flames shooting from their asses.
We burned the world down! It seemed like it was going to go on for ever, those who were safe while swimming or bathing at that moment wouldn't be safe for long if we let it continue. I seek your forgiveness for what we have done and hope the world won't judge me to harshly for the decision i had to make concerning Charles. Of all the people I accidentally killed during that time, it's the one I intentionally did that hurts me the most. | "Dear, future, intelligent species of Earth. I suppose this may be the only piece of evidence you will find for the existence of my species. I might as well introduce myself, so my name is Lieutenant Daniel Everett. Regular members of our society have the ability to grip objects with our hands, think with our complex minds, and run with our legs. Of course, there are other abilities, but I've been told by my superiors to keep this as brief as possible.
Anyways, occasionally, a human is born with a "superpower." Personally, I believe the prefix "super" on that word is simply there for the irony because the powers these "extraordinary" people have are well worthless. Allow me to give you some examples of our "incredible progress in evolution." There's a man by the name of Joshua Browne with the ability to - and I quote - "receive an electrical shock from any metal he touches." As you can imagine, this is more of a nuisance than a superpower, but people tend to find it offensive when I refer to Joshua as "the example of why natural selection is necessary." Second, there's a woman by the name Sidney Parker. Now, Sidney's power could be useful, but there's one fatal defect. Sidney has the ability to regenerate her body at an incredible speed which sounds great, but here's the problem. The slightest touch onto an object harms Sidney, so the power is utterly worthless as she's always screaming in pain.
I've given you two examples of our worthless - er - extraordinary people, but now, let me tell you how it relates to the message I'm sending you and humanity's extinction. There is another man and woman who have two abilities that if brought together can and will end the world. Their names are Tyler Gordon and Melissa Wilson. Tyler has the strange ability that increases everything in his vicinity to about 1,000 Celsius; meanwhile, anybody with these strange powers that comes into contact with Melissa has their power amplified. After running simulations of an interaction of Tyler and Melissa, we realized the Tyler's ability will destroy the entire planet.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: HERE'S THE SECOND PART
Anyway, if you managed to find this recording, I can assume that you're a somewhat intelligent species, so you've probably figured out that that happened. I've been helping the president, our leader, keep them separated, but it's a bit difficult to keep a man who melts everything that gets near him. We mainly just focused on Melissa by trapping her in a containment unit. While we may have had to deal with a lawsuit here and there, the important thing is that it worked. Our fatal mistake was forgetting the location of Tyler which reminds me if you find a body with a name tag "Ryan Bennett," please feel free to desecrate all over it. I seriously don't understand how Ryan could lose a man that leaves a giant, scorched trail everywhere he walks! Ryan's idiotic antics cost our species its life.
Tyler, who had been living in South America, had begun moving North, seemingly to mourn the families he had killed in the USA; however, the problem arose when he was in Panama. We had stored Melissa in a concealed room in the Panama Canal. As you can imagine, Tyler accidentally melted through it. He came into contact with Melissa, and during that point, we heard a sharp, scratching noise. A spark. That was when Earth was engulfed in flames and melted. It's laughable that the general public feared would never take place. The world was destroyed before the asteroid Apophis even neared Earth, before global warming could flood the world, and before thirst for fresh water could drive our species out of existence.
Now, I know you're confused. How can I be leaving a message if we're all dead? Sigh. I wish I could say it's because the simulations were wrong, but no. My superiors and I were simply lucking to be checking out the newest design for a trap for Tyler. Well, Earth's future residents, if I have any message to leave for you, it's simply "Hope for the best. Prepare for the worst." | 2015-03-10T11:26:28 | 2015-03-10T08:59:14 | 24 | 17 |
[WP]The navy has a custom that no submarine is ever declared lost at sea, they are listed as "still on patrol". Every year radio personel wish them seasons greetings. When a "on patrol" WWII era submarine docked and young personel disembarked thinking that the war "just ended" The situation changed. | "Mr. Johnson, there is a man who would like to see you." While the nurse spoke, she turned on the light of the room.
"What? Who would come to visit me at..." Mr. Johnson looked at the clock on the wall. "3 AM in the morning?"
"They said that it would better that you see him face to face rather than explain who and why he is here." Replied the nurse while preparing Mr. Johnson's wheelchair.
"Oh bloody hell! Tell him or them or who ever it is to fuck off! I want to sleep." Mr. Johnson pulled his blanket over his head and tried to go to sleep back again.
"Did your mother taught you to speak like that, Peter?" A voice asked from the hallway.
As fast as lighting Mr. Johnson sat on his pillow and replied. "How you dare speak about my mother and who are you..." Mr. Johnson words were cut short by a mix of confusion, disbelief and shock. In front of his room's door there was a man whose face he haven't seen in 75 years, a face he thought was long lost to time and the high seas. "Dad?"
"I am sure you have a lot of questions as well as I do. So why don't we going to the cafeteria for some coffee to wake us up, son?" Beside the man wearing a navy uniform most would have though was a costume, there were two other men in black suits escorting him.
"So... Huh... If you are really my dad how didn't you age a single day after all this years? Shouldn't you be in your 100s by now?" Peter was still a little dizzy after fainting a second later when he recognized the man's face.
"Trust me, I am still in shock after discovering that 75 years have passed since I last went down there. The first thing I though about was you and your mother, Claire. Even before I came out of the hatch I was thinking about buying flowers for her when I got home and a new toy for you. Now imagine the shock I felt when they told that Claire was dead and that you were in your 80s." Lieutenant Henry Johnson sip a bit of his coffee and continue speaking. "I am one of the lucky ones if it could be call good lack. For most of the other guys, the government is still trying to find their families or they discovered that their only living relative is the grandchild of their fifth cousin of their third uncle who live god know where."
"How many do still have families that aren't... Eh... So distant?" Peter asked while pouring sugar in his coffee.
"That I know of, 9 out of 63 crewmen." Henry paused for a moment and looked at Peter pouring the sugar. "You like your sugar, don't you? I would tell you that if you eat that much sugar your teeth would fall off but I guess that it is kind of late for that." Henry and Peter laughed more minute before the strange and uncomfortable atmosphere set back in.
"D... Did... Did your mother have a good life?" Henry asked hesitantly.
"She had her difficulties but we went by as good as widower and her son could do. She kept your photo next to her until she died in 1987. They even put it in her coffin as her last wish." Henry started crying uncontrollable, the realization that he would never see his beloved Claire again finally hit him.
"The others are in the same state as him." Said one the agents. "I can't imagine what they are going through, especially since most of the crew were married young men with children."
"They will get better with time. Something that the years have taught me it that everything can be heal with time and support. At least that is was I hope." Replied Peter watching his father cry like when his son did all those years ago after the accident. | The ropes creaked and burned against the creases of my fingers. Double knot, always remember the double knot. 'Down here life and death is measured in decibels.' I wouldn't forget. I smoothed the blanket where I had been sitting tying my shoes and headed for the door.
Stevo was snoring, a couple of bunks further down there was stirring.
The door hinge squeaked and I was off before anyone had a chance to cuss me.
I didn't mind peeling potatoes, it was a fair price to pay for screwing up a silent run and I wasn't one to shirk responsibilities, a farmers belt had made sure of it. God damn laces.
"What the hell Bruce, who are we planning on serving these too, Satan and his minions," He barked high like a whining bitch.
"And what's wrong with em?" A bone of a man growled over his shoulder.
"What these,' 'click click click,' Bernie tapped something resembling charcoal against a burned dirty pan. "Why nothing at all Bruce, these rocks are tip top, but I didn't ask for rocks in a pan I asked for potatoes, didn't I?"
"Some sailors like em tators well done,"
"Good morning fellas."
"A Jewish golem couldn't eat these, morning Will."
"Yeah well a Jews golem ain't never sailed either, ah fucket... morning Will."
This is how it went most mornings, Bernie would lord over Bruce like he was an invalid member of the help, and Bruce would screw things up out of principal. At some point an ounce or two of cooking sherry would show up and the rest of the morning would go by in bouts of manic work fueled silence punctuated with the dirtiest jokes ever conceived...
"Oy Will, whats the difference between an Admiral and a star fish..."
A flashing of lights, a crackle of a microphone... He was cut short by a stern voice. | 2020-01-23T23:14:23 | 2020-01-23T22:34:39 | 43 | 17 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | The great Kreen empire had ruled for millennia, ever expanding with trillions of souls on thousands of worlds all toiling away for the benefit of the Dai'Kreen, the God Kings who ruled with an iron fist.
The Kreen first learned of the humans through rumors of encounters on the outer fringes of the empire. Stories of underwhelming ships approaching Kreen vessels, attempting to hail them with declarations of peace and desire for trade. The humans knew not of the ways of the Kreen, the Kreen have no need for trade, they take what they desire, nor do they care for peace, the only peace is subjugation under the Dai'Kreen.
Conflict began gradually, the negotiations of the humans, begging for peace, *groveling* for the mercy of the Dai'Kreen to "spare innocent lives" but the Kreen cared not for the wishes of lesser beings. The Dai'Kreen were destined to own the galaxy and any within it belonged to the empire, the Kreen would enlighten the humans of this truth.
The Dai'Kreen gave the humans one last warning.
"Hundreds of races have faced the might of the Kreen empire and all have fallen. Those who willingly embraced the empire were accepted with open arms. Prepare your world's for Kreen rule, yield to the empire and we will be lenient. Resist and face decimation."
The human's reply was slow coming, but brief.
"So be it."
The Dai'Kreen struck first. The skies of a dozen human worlds were shattered at once as rift gates opened high above them. Relativistic darts, rods of ultra high density material accelerated to near the speed of light, tore through the rifts and impacted the human worlds with phenomenal force.
Planets broke, billions died in an instant.
The Kreen expected humanity to fold in the face of such horror, but the Dai'Kreen did not know humans.
They did not know that every major scientific advancement in human history had been a a direct result of conflict.
They didn't know that humanity had unlocked the power of the atom all in an attempt to more efficiently kill their own kind.
The Kreen did not know that humanity had pushed itself to the brink of extinction on multiple occasions because of precisely how effecient they were at warfare.
The Dai'Kreen did not know they were not the first empire to make this grave mistake in judgement.
Billions of humans died in the initial salvo but the Kreen were unaware of the psychological effect that would have on humanity. The Kreen expected the humans to see the destruction caused and be awestruck by its majesty, paralyzed in the face of annihilation.
They were not aware of the single most unique trait of the humans. Tenacity.
When the humans broke the seals on the Armory Wolrds that housed their hidden armadas, hundreds of planet sized hangars released hundreds of thousands of warships all with the sole purpose of avenging the lives lost in the Kreen's techerous opening attack.
Human fleets pushed deep into the core of the Kreen empire, world after world systematically pacified or liberated by the sheer overwhelming capacity for violence the humans possessed. The humans pushed the Dai'Kreen back to their ancient seats of power, the Throne Worlds of their home system.
Here the remaining Dai'Kreen in a desperate attempt at reconciliation begged the humans for mercy.
"Surely there is a way that both our great races can thrive? None could withstand the might of our great empires, together the Kreen and humanity could rule the galaxy unapposed."
The encroaching human fleet did not initially respond, but they briefly held their fire. Seeing a potential the Dai'Kreen hailed them once more.
"We hoped reason would prevail, we know now what a grave mistake we made refusing your attempts at peace -"
The human's leader abruptly cut into the Dai'Kreen broadcast.
"No, I don't think you realize just how big a mistake you made, but you will. You fucked around, now find out."
Suddenly the Kreen sensors were blinded by thousands of simultaneous bursts of Gama radiation as the human ships tore open space time and jumped away from the Throne Worlds.
Moments later another far brighter flash of light engulfed the Throne Worlds. The super weapon deployed by the humans during the lull in fighting had accomplished its goal, the sun at the center of the Throne Worlds went nova incinerating the Dai'Kreen and any left loyal to their rule.
Humanity reshackled its weapons of war, returned to its ways of peace and continued to explore the cosmos under a white flag.
Not because they feared for their own survival, but for the survival of anyone *else*. | "To think those simians would have enough political leverage for such demands" - The capital ships of both warring species faced in sandspace, a particularly empty region of the galaxy where war ultimatums would go to be resolved. The lack of large masses and their gravity fields meant all wreckage of ancient and recent battles alike, floated directionless, reflecting the light of distant stars, like white crystals on a beach.
"As law demands, our government and its leader stand present, as do our finest warriors who soon shall decide the fate of our species" - The human captain opens dialogue. Traditionally, it is the side that offers the ultimatum that initiates conversations, allowing for heckling from the opposing side, effectively acting as foreplay for final war.
"You hairy mongrels are little disconnected from your tribals ways. Your guerrilla war was dishonourable albeit annoying, but now you prove yourselves ignorantly incompetent, you wish for peace so fervently you'd throw away any chance of victory. DEPLOY THE FLEET" - Tens of thousands of glistening ships occupied the space between the capital monstrosities, like ants from a tree. Some humans in the ship shuddered at the sight of the fighters, many had memories of a single enemy fighter handling a full airport at the colonies. To them, humans were peasants, no culture of war, instead choosing philosophy and theology instead of training and bellic enhancement - "Your pursuit for diplomacy is a façade for your weakness, present your warriors, let us end this"
The human capital ship hummed and oppened all ports. After an uncanny delay the fighters exited and clumped together in front of the flagship.
"srepolretni uoy evigrof ew" - The Captains ghostly voice echoes in an empathetic tone. The communication channel had been left open, leaving the aliens to hear humans chanting gibberish. The rhythm of their voices blends with the vibrations of the capital ship, clearly increasing power output.
"Using your soldiers to shield a retreat? And what makes you think you're in a position to forgive... how deep must the peaceful ways run in your genome. Even forfeiting common tongue to buy yourselves time. Pitiful" - The alien fighters dart out intent on stopping the escaping ship. Precise and fatal strikes are intercepted by the massive wall of human vessels. The fighters manage to punch holes in the fuselage when all the flagships' ports light up simultaneously, time warps, and space contracts. The capital ships collide with deafening force, blasting all matter in sandspace out of existence. The Captain opens the comms and speaks. On Earth, the broadcast of the ultimatum shows the ships and matter spawning backwards out of a supernova and blip into nothing. The final message is heard from the aliens to which the anchor replies: "No, we CHOOSE peace". | 2022-08-05T19:16:19 | 2022-08-05T16:23:55 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] Officially, you're a weak, D rank villain. Unofficially, you're one of the strongest beings on the planet that is secretly employed to "train" fledgling heroes by giving them an easy first real fight. But one day an A rank villain crashes your heist and you must protect your "students". | Shelia opened her eyes to see that instead of her heart, it was a forearm impaled on Gore's thin blade. But she was even more appalled to find that the arm belonged to Nightmare, the man she had been fighting before Gore arrived soaked in blood. She tried to make sense of the idea that an incompetent and super-tough bank robber would take the stab for her, but when she looked again she saw that his injury wasn't bleeding.
She could hear her teammates distantly shouting her codename, but in her shock she couldn't respond. There was a sudden flurry of motion and Shelia found herself being flung back towards her allies. The blonde teen was barely able to resume flying and catch herself before she hit the ground. By the time she oriented herself in midair, she could see Nightmare facing Gore with the blade still deeply embedded in his arm.
"You okay, Zephyria?" Nightmare asked without turning his head.
"Y...Yeah, I'm fine," she replied hesitantly.
"Good. Wouldn't want you to to suffer needlessly."
"Then what would you like? To die?" Gore interjected.
"If you can kill me, I'd be happily surprised. But I-"
Before he could continue, Nightmare's unmasked head separated from his body and began flying bloodlessly through the air. The grin on his growth-covered face was deeply unsettling, but became more-so when the head stopped midair and rotated towards Gore. The masked brute took an unsteady step back while his grip slipped on the second blade, and then Nightmare's standing body erupted into blood, sharpened bone, and long muscular fibers.
Within a moment, Gore was tied against a wall and screaming in terror. Blood-wet bones either impaled the tight muscle-cord against the cement or floated threateningly near his face like teeth. A tough chunk of meat was stuffed into the Gore's exposed mouth to silence him, and the floating pair of lungs re-attached themselves to Nightmare's head before inflating.
"As I was going to say, I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into, Mr. Gore. You're interfering with my fun, and I don't take kindly to that." Nightmare paused, and made a face like he was tasting something. "Rabbit's blood, fascinating. A nice shortcut to starting your super speed rampages, I take it?"
As Nightmare's floating head began to turn towards the heroes, her partners screamed and backed against the wall. An amused look crossed his face before he asked, "So which one of you is supposed to be the leader? Was it you, Bright-Burn? Or is it The Masked Justice?" He chortled as he spoke their names.
Shelia floated forward and responded, "It's me."
"Good! You've got a lot of courage in you, Zephyria, you just need more practice. Any-who, I'm going to present to you a choice. You can either call your bosses and have them and the cops accept the unconditional surrender of Gore and I, or you can step back and let me...*feast*."
"W...why-"
"Why let you make that choice at all? Well, sometimes the choices a 'hero' makes are easy, and you just need to have that push to make them. I want to know if you have what it takes to stand against the impossible and enforce your idea of good." The head giggled before asking, "What will it be? You have 5 seconds."
She took a deep breath, feeling the air she controlled passing into her lungs before Zephyria shouted, "Nightmare, surrender!"
A knowing look crept across his face as the head lowered as if to bow.
---
Nightmare relished the look of fear on their faces as he walked past Bright-Burn and The Masked Justice. They stared at the handcuffs around his wrists, and he imagined that they were thinking about how useless the cuffs really were. The two officers were gently guiding him towards an awaiting police car as citizens laughed and cheered at Nightmare's most recent arrest. The jeers rolled off his back like water as the car doors opened, but as he began to sit down he felt a tickle of air and heard a whispered *why*. When he spotted Zephyria he gave a hearty shrug and smile.
The car took off and, after a block or two, the cops' radio sprung to life. "Well Charles, how did they do?"
"Don't call me that, Erik. Zephyria is the only one who's ready for the next level, the other two need a lot more training." He sank down in the seat, knowing no one was looking. "They all need more practice working as a team, but at least she has the heart to stand her ground. Even if she doesn't know quite when to back down," he chuckled as he remembered the blusterous speech she gave Gore before he charged them.
"I'm not looking forward to debriefing them. Why did you-"
"I told you, when I'm 'opened up' while...hungry, it gets hard. I'm glad Zephyria stepped up. Otherwise, Gore could never have made it out alive."
"Unofficially, we probably wouldn't have been too sad. Listen, Charles, I know that you have reservations about-"
"No, Erik. I am not a hero. I am a monster, and it needs to stay that way. No one would want to accept this on their side. I'm fine with it, and I will continue to be fine with it. This path I've chosen is good enough for me. It has to be."
He noticed the officers looking at each other with concern, and let it go. He was hungry, and it was getting hard to be patient. He took a meditative breath and closed his eyes. | What do you do, as god?
In the span of, well.. no time at all, you could take in the sum of all knowledge, that which has, is, and will be.
With infinite time and the ability to violate thermodynamics at will, flouting reality as you pleased, you could predict the future perfectly.
All things, became possible. There was nothing off limits. Atrocities, miracles, salvation, damnation... All things came in hand.
And what did you do, after you had become something utterly unrecognizable to yourself before?
You started anew.
======
"It's over, Jester!"
"Oh how exciting! So the little heroes want to play?"
The Jester was up to their usual shenanigans. A Place of Power, a bit of theft, and quite a few of their quote unquote "Jests" which usually involved property damage and other things, though never quite murder.
The Jester stood in front of them, arms wide open, one hand airily holding their usual staff. As per their custom, a mask hid their face, and a cloth their mouth.
"...Ye-No! We're going to..."
"Rain on your parade!" shouted the younger of the two, glancing at his partner.
The other of the two blinked in surprise and shot his friend a thumbs up.
Good, good. They seemed to mesh well.
Now then... for a quick check of basic skill.
With a flourish, the Jester flicked a barrage of cards at the two young heroes, one of whom simply allowed the steel edged playing cards to bounce off like so much rain, the other plucking one out of the air and throwing it right back.
Sloppy. For one, Flanker's movements spoke of someone who didn't quite have the hang of accelerated movement, and he didn't seem to have any passive inertial control, only resistance. And the other... Citadel. He would need to learn something about... movement.
======
The Jester seemed to vanish, and all at once Jeremiah felt a series of sharp blows along his legs and spine, falling to one knee. "What the-Hey! What kind of stupid tricks are you pulling here?!"
"Surprise!"
Flanker hopped off of two walls and went in for a tackle, only to hit the ground with a painful thump and roll to a stop when he passed through where the Jester once was.
"Oh now come on heroes, is this amateur hour?"
"We're profe-"
Time stopped. The one who wore the mask raised an eyebrow.
======
A 15,2x169mm armour piercing fin stabilised subcaliber penetrator. Hmm. Rare. More importantly, fired from an electromagnetically assisted weapon, hence the much higher velocity. Artfully machined too, it seemed like whomever had made this worked out all the kinks. Excellent craftsmanship, and that young tough was not quite at the age where he could come out of one of those unscathed. Especially not aimed precisely for his eye.
Ah, well.
======
Time resumed its flow. An... indeterminable figure stood in the place of the Jester. The dart slowed to a halt one millimeter from Citadel's eye, and was disassembled in its place.
It fell away.
Citadel and Flanker for their parts were quickly given a set of new memories. They'd never remember a thing. As for this self professed villain... Hmm. Megalomania.
Well.
I suppose intangibility would be an excellent one for you hmm?
And with a wave, the Mastermind disappeared from his subterranean bunker beneath armour and rock.
He was cursed to walk forever the earth, unnoticed.
It would not be the first time.
The figure resumed their facade, and set the scene.
Back to work. | 2021-06-23T17:18:18 | 2021-06-23T16:46:52 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] The lottery is an Institution designed to catch Time Travelers. | When I was a child I made a mistake. My school had a set of farm animal toys. I loved the donkey. It was less obnoxious than the family of horses and more interesting than the sheep and cows. There were many of those but only one donkey. I played with it every day at every opportunity and sometimes I would put it in my pocket and let it ride around on me in the lunch break and designated play times.
One day a new kid arrived in school. She sat next to me and everything started off fine. She liked farm animals too. At first she was content to play with the sheep, jumping them over fences and the like. When sheep weren't enough she played with the cows. Daisy and her friends got in quite the set of adventures. But even the cows couldn't sate her hunger. She wanted more. The horses barely lasted a week. I could see where this was headed and I didn't like it. Not one bit.
I turned up to school on a particular thursday and it had happened. The donkey was gone, and she had it. I sat next to her and watched my donkey pull imaginary carts around the field. I wanted it back. I watched her feed my donkey imaginary sugar lumps. I wanted it back. I watched my donkey frolic with the other animals. I took it back! I ran from the classroom to the outside whereupon I threw it over the fence into the bushes. If my donkey and I couldn't play then no one could. I stood shaking for a while then cried and cried and cried.
I regretted my actions, my mistake. I waned my donkey back. If only I could go back in time...
An excellent idea I thought. So I screwed up my eyes and tried really hard. I willed myself back. I remembered my donkey sailing over the fence and imagined me being there catching it and putting it in my pocket. I checked my pocket but my donkey wasn't there. I tried a few more times but it quickly became clear that I couldn't time travel. Now I needed a new plan. I needed someone who could do it.
I sit in my chair. It is comfy, very comfy. The best that money could buy, if you didn't want one of those irritable vibrating chairs that offer so called "massages" but really convince you that either your back is going to break or the chair will. But it is an excellent chair. A tasteful shade of grey. A good number of wheels so that I can slide from end to end of my imposing mahogany desk. It commands the room. Almost a dining table sized desk yet it only had three allocated chairs. One is very comfy, the others not so. They aren't bad but if you sat in one you knew that you are not going to be sitting in it for long. Uncomfy chairs keep meetings short. That is what I had discovered and it is what I like. This is my domain. I am king of Camalot and this is my throne.
Over a score of years had built up to this point. Building my kingdom. Putting everything together. Starting the national lottery had been no small feat. I needed something that had a huge reward. A small tax on everyone in the country is a logical way to gather that money. I needed something that was utterly predictable with hindsight. The numbers go out in all the papers so all you need is an old paper. This is a foolproof plan. I chuckle to myself, why if I were a time traveller how could I resist such an opportunity.
Now all I have to do is wait then we can go back and correct that mistake. | First writing prompt: please let me know if I did bad or horrible.
About 70% of lottery winners go broke. Want to know why?
The government, or at least the USA has knowledge of time travelers. After a 20-something year old man won the lottery 3 times in a row, they believed the man to be cheating. After a quick chat, or should I say interrogation, the man quickly gave up and leaked that time travelers are wondering to the past, using knowledge of lottery ticket numbers to gain wealth. Since then the government has given out knowledge of this to other president, king, prime minister, etc, there is. Most of them did nothing, believing the president had gone mad, but few had believed him. Ever since then the lottery has been rigged for nobody to win. After a man or woman wins, they are immediately apprehended and taken into custody. After taking all the answers they have the time travelers have their wealth taken away. If the person wins the lottery again? They are arrested and swiftly executed.
I had discovered this important information after I had unearthed a deceased time travelers time machine. Along with a diary/journal and important dates. I've been hiding from the public ever since then, rarely ceding from my house, in fear of changing the future and adjusting time and history itself. I shouldn't have read it, I could have saw it, destroyed it and lived on the rest of my life in ignorance about the major discovery I could have not made.
As of right now they are trying to capture all time travelers. I cannot do anything to save them, I cannot go to the past to change it, I cannot go to the future to change it either. Greedy time travelers are doomed, because of this they created an alternate universe. They may even cause a paradox, ending all time. All for stupid greed.
Only time itself will present the change occurring from these events. | 2014-10-30T17:03:02 | 2014-10-30T16:28:14 | 74 | 53 |
[WP] You hate your boring call centre job. Every day idiots call you up with stupid questions they could easily figure out themselves. Yes you have to shoot them in the head. No there is no cure if you're bitten. It's a few years now into the zombie apocalypse and this is the Call Centre of the Dead | *Ring ring.*
"HELP! The zombies are right behind me and-"
"Good morning, Tracy speaking. Have you tried turning it off and on again?"
"The-the what?"
"Your gun safety. Big black dial on the side of your rifle. Can't miss it."
"What? What dial?"
"You are holding a CCD rifle? If you are a customer of SurvivorLink I'm afraid you'll have to call them instead."
"No. Yes. I'm CCD."
"Excellent. Now if you-"
"Hold on."
The crack of rifle-butt on skull thudded through the phone speaker.
"Die! Die! Ok, Tracy I think I see what you're talking about."
*Flick.*
*BANG. BANG. BANG.*
"Haha! Gotcha, ya rotten fleshbags! Thanks a bunch, Tracy."
"That's great to hear. Have a nice day, sir. Please leave a review if you're satisfied with your experience. My manager would appreciate it."
*Click*.
*Ring Ring.*
"Oh my God. They're in my house what do I do?!"
"Good morning, Tracy speaking. Have you tried-"
"They've got Joe. Oh my god they've got Joe. Send help! I need help right now!"
"Sure thing, ma'am. I'll put you down right away."
The riffle of a notebook flipping to page 324. A click of a ballpoint pen.
"Your name ma'am?"
"Ahhh! They've reached the kitchen! Uh, my name's Gladis."
"Oh, my mom's name's Gladis. How lovely. And your contact number, Gladis? Either mobile or landline is fine."
"Uh. 0-4-2-1- Ahh! They've breached the door! Uh. 3-1-6-8- Ahh! They've got my leg!"
The scribbling of pen on paper stopped as heavy breathing replaced the voice on the speaker.
"Oh God. It's black. It's all going black."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Gladis. If you're satisfied with your experience please leave a review. Have a nice day."
*Click.*
*Ring ring*.
"Is this the Call Centre of the Dead?"
"Good morning, Tracy speaking. Yes, this is CCD."
"Good. Good. I need you to listen carefully and calmly, Tracy. I've done it. I've created the cure. Now I need you to patch me to the CEO. I'll send him the formula and we're gonna save the frikken world."
"Hi, sir. I regret to inform you CCD does not accept unsolicited advice."
"What? It's the goddamn cure for this this hell! Just send me the frik through!"
"Sir, I can redirect you to my manager if you would like."
"Okay. Fine."
A plastic chair scraped against corporate carpet. Then more scraping and a *plonk*.
"Sorry, he's out for lunch. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"What? What the fu... Look. What's the email address of your R&D department?"
"I'm afraid our email servers are full, sir. Part of the reason company policy rejects unsolicited advice now. We do accept fax though, the number is on our website."
Mumbled curses filtered through the headset.
"Fine. I'll do it. I'm sending it through now. Let me know when you've got it. I need that document in the hands of your head scientist pronto."
Tapping on the side of the fax machine. Then kicking. *Bzzzzzz.*
"Yup, got it. Lovely diagrams. My name's Tracy, have a nice day."
*Click.*
*Whish*. Rattle of a trashcan.
r/bobotheturtle | INTRODUCING THE CAST:
JEN: The often misguided, easily manipulated manager of the Call Centre of the Dead.
MARVIN: A father. He had just been hired at the Center before the apocalypse hit.
JILL: A ten year old child, Marvin's secretary who plots his murder.
OLIVER: A bully who pushes around everyone else.
ALSO STARRING:
DIA: "Are you discriminating against zombies?"
(MARVIN and JILL sit at desks next to each other, with the latter clutching a knife behind her back. OLIVER'S chair has been rolled away from his desk, and he is reading a magazine.)
JEN: (Entering the main office) All right, everyone! We have a new employee. (waves hands excitedly) Yay! Go team!
DIA: (enters) Hello, team. (drool drips out of the corners of her mouth as she stares at JEN)
OLIVER: (exasperated) Jen, she's a (emphatically) zombie! Are you crazy?
DIA: (offended) Are you discriminating against zombies?
JEN: (shaking her head) For shame, Oliver.
DIA: (huffing) Call me Chef Dia, instead.
MARVIN: (conflicted) You mean chief?
DIA: (pausing) Sure.
(An awkward silence follows. JILL takes the initiative to enter her office again and slam the door. DIA tentatively walks over and sniffs OLIVER, but seems disgusted and recoils. She moves over to sit beside MARVIN. JILL scoots away from her.)
MARVIN: (tentatively) So...
(JILL suddenly stabs at MARVIN, but he dodges and the knife clatters to the ground.)
JILL: (deadpan) Oh my, the knife must have slipped.
MARVIN: (terrified) U-uh, just make sure it doesn't happens again, okay?
JILL: (shrugs) | 2020-05-12T07:25:12 | 2020-05-12T06:31:01 | 1,637 | 13 |
[WP] Reverse Romeo and Juliet. Two families have long been allies, but their kids absolutely hate each other. | "Juliet's parents sent over a cake, dear!" Mother chirped cheerfully. The sugarcoated monstrosity was proudly displayed on the dining table. "Now isn't that nice?"
"I guess..." Romeo's reply sounded somewhere between disinterest and overt contempt. "*She* probably poisoned it anyway."
"Now why would you say such a thing?"
"Jeez, I don't know mom. Perhaps because she tries to cut me every time she's close by?"
"Haha yes, she does have a sharp wit, that girl."
"I mean, look at these scars mom!" Romeo gesticulated wildly at his hands. "Besides, she smells like a pigsty."
"It's probably those spices from Persia she bathes in. Her father is a very wealthy man, you know." Mother's eyes glittered.
"Juliet swears like a sailor."
"She has a rich vocabulary! Very internationally oriented, that one."
"She wanted to put Nicolo to sleep!" His shaggy dog pricked up its ears at the sound of his name. "Fed him rancid meat and everything. It took me days to clean the carpet."
"Nicolo was probably hunting squirrels, honey. Or was scrounging around the plague hospital again. You know I told you to discipline him better..."
"It was *her* mom! God, why don't you listen? I don't like her, she doesn't like me. We're not going to get married."
"Love takes time, dear. It's not like your father and I were passionate about each other from the beginning." Mother gazed off in the distance.
"Not again..."
"It took many years before we could even talk freely to one another. And we already had your brother before the spark properly jumped. Just give it time, and love will ignite for you two lovers as well."
"Yeah, something will surely ignite..."
"What was that?"
"She tried to *set my room on fire*, mother!" Romeo waved up at the blackened spots on the ceiling below his room.
"Now, I told you not to read in bed by candlelight, honey."
"Mother..."
Romeo was interrupted when Nicolo crashed to the floor. Green foam bubbled from his shaggy muzzle and half-digested cake bits streamed across the floor.
"Nicolo!" Romeo sprang, tears streaming down his face, but his dog wouldn't respond. His stomach twisted in a knot of worry and righteous anger. His dog, his friend had been hurt and *she* was responsible. Romeo trembled with with rage, and thoughts of revenge swam through his head. He barely registered the caring hand that his mother placed on his shoulder, or the words that she soothingly whispered in his ear: "Poor boy, probably scrounging around the plague hospital again or something. You should've really disciplined him better..." | "Does Joshua have to come to my 16th birthday party" Olivia complained to her father. Her father Danny, rolls his eyes at his daughter. "Yes, you were invited to his why shouldn't he be invited to yours."
Olivia slouches back in her seat "He only invited me cause his Mom made him." "Olivia, don't be difficult darling, Josh is a lovely boy you just have to get to know him" Her mother said joining in on the conversation.
&#x200B;
\~meanwhile\~
"Mom! I don't want to go to Olivia's party" Josh complained. "Too bad" Sylvia replied "She invited you"
"She only invited me cause you made me invite her, to mine"
"Well, you're invited and you're going. End of"
Josh knew there was no arguing with his mother, when she used that tone and decided he may as well escape before the usual lecture about Olivia and how she was a sweet girl he should try harder with her came up.
What neither of their parents saw was that Josh didn't want to try with her and She didn't want him to try either. | 2021-08-18T05:22:29 | 2021-08-18T03:25:31 | 31 | 13 |
[WP] You are the special weapon of the law, if a murder case seems unsolvable they call you. You are a mutant with the power to raise the dead, for a short amount of time. Most dead are happy to see their murderer behind bars but there was this one guy who just didn't want to help. | ‘Do you KNOW who I WAS?’
Celebrities. Ugh.
‘Yes Mr Jones. And we are going to do everything in our power to hel-‘
‘NANCY!’
Nancy was his assistant. She no longer works for him. Because he’s dead, natch.
‘Nancy doesn’t work for you any more, Mr. Jones..’
His glassy nostrils flare in the glare of the coroner’s lamp.
‘That is some BULLSHIT!’
Nooo buddy. I am meant to be at Amy’s birthday party. She’s 5 and won’t understand why daddy isn’t there. THAT’s bullshit.
‘No, I’m afraid it’s not. She went back to Ohio when her boss OD-ed in a diaper during fleet week. You can’t... really... blame her? Girl’s gotta eat.’
He looks down at his see-through body and the see-through grownup diaper it is still wearing, like he is seeing it for the first time.
‘Oh fuck.’
I cough politely.
‘Yeahhhh....’
He rolls his eyes and sits down heavily on the floor which parts like fog around him and swirls back into place as he comes back up above it. Guess celebrities are used to worse things than being told you’re dead in a diaper and everyone is going to know. Like... not being nominated or whatever.
He focused on me and flashed what would have been a million dollar smile before he died. Does that make it more or less expensive now? Do celeb smiles appreciate like art?
‘Bit late to give a shit now eh?’
Good for him! Most people have no sense of humour when they die. Jess thinks it’s cause ghosts have no endocrine system and I think it’s cause people are humourless ass-hats.
‘From what I’m told, you ‘gave a shit’ as you left, Mr Jones.’
He looked back, horrified, at his prone body in the now-empty hot tub and then laughed.
‘Thank god for the diaper eh.’
‘Thank god for the diaper.’
Right about now they’re cutting Amy’s cake and she’s wondering where I am to help her blow out all those little candles.
‘So can you just help me out real quick and we can all get ho- get wherever we’re going?’
He raises his arms in a wide shrug. ‘What do you need to know? There was a bunch of sailors, a bagful of fun and I have never been good at saying ‘enough’. It’s hardly a mystery.’
‘The mystery isn’t why you died from a recreational drug overdose in a gay sauna, Mr. Jones. The mystery is why you died of other poisoning and someone made everyone including YOU believe it was your own fault. That’s why I’m here.’
His glassy eyes widen. ‘Wait so... I was murdered? Like... actually murdered?’
I nod. ‘I’m sorry.’
He goes to clap my shoulder and his hand goes through me, of course.
‘Why are you sorry? Dude I am going to be sooo famous.’
‘But you’re famous already. And... not to put too fine a point on it... kinda dead.’
‘So? They re gonna talk about me for years!’
I sigh.
‘Do you even care who killed you?’
He ticks off the possibilities on his ghost fingers.
‘Could be my old agent. My wife. My boyfriend. His boyfriend... Could be a lot of people... Hell maybe they clubbed together. The point isn’t who killed me it’s that I died in a diaper in a hot tub surrounded by gay sailors. You couldn’t BUY this kinda publicity.’
I scratch my head.
‘If you were less enthusiastic, I’d worry this was all part of a For Your Consideration campaign.’
He does a double take and a grin splits his face. ‘
‘Posthumous Oscar klaxon!’
I laugh, despite myself. ‘My little girl’s turning 5 today so I’d like to get home before I miss her whole party. If you don’t mind.’
‘Oh wow. Sorry... does she like...?’ He makes wizardy motions in the air.
‘Yeah she loves the first film. She’s not old enough to have seen the rest yet.’
He gives me a wide eyed grin. ‘Lemme send her a birthday video message! Least I can do.’
I pause long enough that he remembers to look down at his half invisible body in the half invisible diaper.
‘Oh yeah. Maybe not.’
I nod. ‘Especially not with the death boner.’
He squints.
‘Ohhhh is that what that is?’
‘Yeah, they happen. It’s nice of you to offer though. I’ll tell her you said hello.’
Mr Jones scratches his shadowy nose and wipes his finger on the ghost of his diaper.
‘Always nice to meet a fan,’ he says. | "No!"
"Say again?"
"I said no, just leave me to be dead and all."
I scratched my head. Never in my career had some dead ghost had the audacity to deny me information about it's... Well death.
"Okay, listen here! Seriously I can't keep you alive for longer. You are the freshest case of that mysterious murderer I've been after for months! We can catch him and a lot of other dead will be happy."
"Well, no. I stated my point. No!"
"All you stated was screaming 'No!' at me every time..."
"Exactly. Point made! Bye! Good luck and I'm gonna rest from now on. Take care!"
"Okay, hold on! Why not? It's not like it is going to harm you!"
The ghost seemed to have sank in thoughts. After a while it talked again. "Well there is just no point." He looked smug. "I am dead, others are dead, finding him won't bring us back to life." He shrugged. "Besides, you won't be able to find him if I told you what I knew."
Keeping this bitchy ghost up costed me a lot of energy. However this one seemed to know more than the others.
"What do you mean?"
"You know what, you look tired, just let me go and..."
"What do you mean!"
"Sweet demons! Hold your energy man, don't scream at me!" The ghost came closer. "I told you. I can't cooperate. I don't want to."
"Don't start this again!"
"Okay, look. If I tell you why I don't want to tell you, you will know who my murderer is."
"That's the idea, yes, you are beginning to understand it."
"But I don't want you to know that... Because if you knew..."
"Just stop playing around you idiot! I have a case to solve! Last chance and you will never talk to me again!"
"Okay. I tell you and we are done?"
"Yes."
"No further yada yada?"
"Yes!"
"Just done and dusted?"
"YES!"
"Okay, so I saw my murderer, I kinda pulled down the hockey mask he wore in an attempt to fight against him, but, well you see, I didn't succeed. However in my last moments I recognized that face. The old, crooked nose and those emerald green, wild eyes, dark bushy eyebrows and a round face." The ghost looked at me. "I actually recognized that face after you resurrected me."
I looked at him confused.
"Yes, that exact expression! The murderer... Was you?"
My eyes were wide as candy. "WHAT?!"
"Look at me. Remember everyone else on this case. Why are we all ghosts? Why aren't we zombies? We were dead before... And you are the only one who can resurrect or kill us. It's all you. Who was the first to die?"
I looked helpless. "Dr. Tim Gakel." I stuttered " 'Theory of the time travel.' "
The ghost shook its head approvingly.
"That's all I can help with. Take care... And good luck!" As he disappeared, leaving me powerless against the new information.
"God! WHY!!!" I screamed at the night sky. | 2020-07-21T12:53:40 | 2020-07-21T12:02:16 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] You are eight years old when you fall into a coma. 70 years later, you unexpectedly awaken, a child in an elderly person’s body. Your parents are dead, and your relatives are nowhere to be found. Your only friend is the nurse who has watched over you for the last 30 years of her career. | Charlie's eyes fluttered as he quietly moaned in the hospital bed.
"Hello? Mom, dad?" Charlie said as he rubbed the sleep out of his old aged eyes. He yawned and his eyes shot wide open when he looked straight at the nurse in front of him as she jotted down his vitals with a smile on her face. The room had changed quite a bit since he went to sleep last night. The walls were covered with different paintings and there was a large, inexplicably flat TV somehow floating on the wall showing the greatest detail news broadcast, as if he were right there on the TV set.
"Hi, sweethe- " began the nurse before she was cut off by Charlie.
"Umm...", Charlie began before he stopped and looked at his arms. Eleanor, the nurse, started to see tears in Charlie's eyes.
"Mom?... Mom?!... Dad?!... Mommy?!" Charlie started as his anxiety skyrocketed, like that one time last year when he found himself lost and separated from his mom and dad at the mall while Christmas shopping.
"Shuushhh, Charlie. They'll be here soon. They stepped out to go buy you a toy from the gift store!" Eleanor exclaimed as she tried her hardest to calm Charlie down. This seemed to quell Charlie a bit as his cries slowed to loud gasps and then to quiet sobs.
"You hit your head yesterday, remember? Your mommy and daddy brought you here to get better. Do you remember that, sweetheart?" Eleanor asked, with a strained, tired smile plastered on her face.
"Yeah, I do, Ms. Nurse. You changed your hair. Was I moved to another room?" Charlie asked with an inquisitive look on his aged face.
"I feel like I changed my hair a long time ago, Charlie. And yes, sweetheart, we moved you to another room. But your parents know where you are... I'll be right back, Charlie," Eleanor said, tiredly, as she grabbed his old, worn teddy bear, which was older than she was, and handed it to him.
"Okay," Charlie said with a small smile. "Could you bring me some apple juice, please?"
"Anything for you, sweetheart," Eleanor said with a smile.
Eleanor stepped outside of the room and closed the door. She walked down the hall until she couldn't anymore. She put her back to the wall. She wept.
Eleanor managed to reach the vending machine in the nurse's breakroom, and like clockwork, she took out one dollar and inserted it in the machine. A3. It has always been A3.
Another nurse had walked in and saw Eleanor struggling with the machine buttons.
"Let me help you, Eleanor," Clara told her and she steadied her hand. "Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"
Eleanor, defeated, let her forehead rest on the glass of the machine and let her tears flow. Clara felt the wet on her hand.
"Because, he is just a boy. He is my boy, and he has no one left... I have no one left," Eleanor said more to herself than to Clara.
Clara felt the prickling in her eyes, too.
"But he has dementia! He's been like this since he first woke up... That was over a year ago, Eleanor. This is killing you."
"I made a promise, Clara!" Eleanor's voice broke as she realized the volume at which she screamed at Clara.
"He deserves to have comfort, even if for a moment..." Eleanor's voice faded to a whisper and she began to quietly cry again.
Clara pulled Eleanor around and into a tight warm hug. "I'm 55 years old, Clara. I have time. Charlie doesn't."
Eleanor pulled herself from Clara's embrace, wiped the unshed tears from her face, grabbed the apple juice, and began the walk back to Charlie's room.
&#x200B;
EDIT: Wow, I did not expect for this to generate so much attention. I saw this prompt at work yesterday and was struck with somber inspiration and happened to write out this skeleton of a story before I was consumed with work again. Thank you for the feedback and the comments. | Bristol, 2017
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Beatrice is telling them I'm asleep. "He will decline to appear on your morning television show, but thank you".
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London, 1940
&#x200B;
The howling starts low. The solo rotary siren is joined by another, and then another, blasting out sound waves at 2900 revolutions per minute. The wailing is in unison. It rapidly gets louder, and then it stays that way. Air Raid sirens are designed to deliver a message: get the fuck out of the street and take cover. In an underground tube station, your basement, or if you were lucky, a bomb shelter. "Don't run" the posters said "Others will do the same".
This was fifth one that night and the adults in the room didn't expect the planes to come this time either.
We didn't make it.
They called it the Blitz.
I know this because that night after the Luftwaffe bombed the living hell out of this city, and two years before the RAF bombed the living hell out Hamburg, I was collateral damage. They didn't call it that back then, but when you listen to BBC News for 12 hours a day for 70 years, you stay educated informed and entertained. That's 40 years over the radio, 30 from a television. Placed by my bed while science tried to reconcile the sporadic electrical activity in my brain and the lifeless flesh on the other end of the IV line.
&#x200B;
Bristol, 2018
&#x200B;
Beatrice wants her fifteen minutes of fame. After taking care of me for 30 years and then getting married to me, I figure its the least I could do.
&#x200B;
London 2018
&#x200B;
"Our viewers want to know, after 70 years in a coma, whats changed the most?"
&#x200B;
"Back then we were fighting facism. Fascism causes war. And war kills innocent families and puts eight year olds in comas. What's changed ... is that people are forgetting that."
&#x200B; | 2018-11-03T11:22:34 | 2018-11-03T11:18:24 | 365 | 76 |
[WP] By Wizard Law, in order to learn a new skill, wizards are required to be apprenticed to a more experienced master. You, a barely trained journeyman fire mage, just took on an apprentice: a two-hundred-year-old Grandmaster Water Magic Lord. | (This is my first time responding to a prompt, please let me know what you think.)
”I DID pass my Journeyman exam! Why am I not being given an assignment?”
“Job assignments are reserved for Journeymen in good standing and you know that, Enzo.” Jes said, glancing over her glasses at him.
Enzo hoped word wouldn’t spread fast, but nothing stayed secret for long within the Hall. It was true that he “passed” his Journeyman exam, but with the Hall desperate to fill their ranks, failure was unheard of…unless you were completely hopeless. Either you passed with flying colors and were sent out on assignments or-
“You were placed on probation. That means no assignments until the Hall deems you’re ready.” said Jes before returning to the papers on her desk.
Enzo felt his face burn and his eyes begin to water. His plan of adventuring with his friends beyond the walls of the Hall was over before it even began.
“What do I have to do?” Enzo said as he tried to keep his voice steady.
“You must be able to create and maintain a Cobalt Orb for no less than one minute. Every Journeyman is expected to be able to do it.” said Jes.
The Cobalt Orb was the result of years of education and training as an aspiring Fire mage. The distinct size and blue hue was proof you were in the presence of someone with a deep understanding and control over the power of fire. It wasn’t uncommon for an apprentice to be able to make a large orb by the end of their first year, but a Cobalt Orb of concentrated magical power was a different matter altogether.
Enzo’s heart began to race. One spell and a single minute was all that it would take to put this situation to rest. The wizard that oversaw Enzo’s exam cut it short without making him create a Cobalt Orb. At the time, Enzo thought he had done so well that it was unnecessary but his exam results obviously indicated otherwise.
“I-I can do it! I’ll do it right now!” Enzo shouted as he wiped his face with his sleeve.
“Very well. Show me.” said Jes as she put her papers to the side.
Enzo brushed his hands against each other before getting into his battle stance. After a distinct clicking sound and a spark shot between his hands, a bright ball of firegv appeared. Orange flames danced around it as he began to concentrate. The orb steadily grew larger and larger as if he was filling a balloon with air.
“Not a bad start, but it needs to be twice that size before I can start the timer. And blue, of course.” Jes said as she stood up from her desk and moved closer.
“Yeah. I know that.” said Enzo through short breaths. He could feel the muscles in his body tighten and his stomach begin to cramp as he tried to force all of his magical power into the orb. He closed his eyes and shuddered as he tried to take a deep breath.
"You okay, Enzo?"
"O-of course. Why?"
"Your orb is getting smaller...." said Jes.
Enzo opened his eyes and began to panic as his orb continued to shrink.
"No..no...come. on." Enzo said through gritted teeth. He tensed every muscle in his body hoping to regain ground. Black smoke began to flow out from around his hands as his magic began to wane.
"Come on!" he yelled.
Jes looked down before slowly turning around and returning to her seat. By the time she sat back down the fire had been snuffed out, and Enzo was left gasping for air among the smoke. Silence filled the room as the two of them avoided eye contact.
"Let me try one more-" Enzo started.
"I think it would be best to look at some other options." Jes said quietly.
Enzo hung his head and felt the sense of shame settle on his shoulders.
"The Hall takes a liking to those who do acts of service to better our reputation with the community and other Halls of Magic. Maybe you could take on an apprentice?" Jes said.
"How can I be expected to teach an apprentice when I'm not even a real Journeyman?"
Jes considered the question for a moment before meeting his eyes.
"If you're against teaching then you could sweep the ash out of the apprentice classrooms. You'll need a broom and robes you nev g er want to wear again." she said as a small smile formed on her lips.
Images of young mages burning everything they could get their hands on flashed in Enzo's mind.
"I could try teaching," he said quickly.
"I thought you might come around." she said as she opened a scroll to reveal a list of names.
Jes's eyes darted across the page as she read the name, magic Hall, and rank of would be fire mage apprentices. Her eyes stopped as she quickly sat up in her chair.
"What is it?" Enzo asked.
(This might be too good to be true Jes thought to herself.)
"Nothing at all. Be down in the training room tomorrow morning, and be ready to teach." Jes said before putting the scroll away. | Dolan only had to flick a skeletal wrist for the flame to die in a whimper.
His frail form would have denoted a man worn by the coarse sands of time, save for all the grandeur of his Magic. Azure robes suggested a Grandmaster, amidst impressive tomes and trophies of antiquity that came with a life so long and powerful.
"Must we play these games?" Solus said, throwing out his arms as if to release his frustration.
"Hehe..." Dolan pointed, his enormous sleeve wafting around. "Again."
The Apprentice held out his hands, both index fingers and thumbs touching. After a moment of controlled breathing, a small flame emerged before him.
"Pow!" The Grandmaster flicked, shooting a spray of water to douse the flame and any confidence Solus still clung to.
"I came here to learn Aquamancy. What are we doing?"
"Calm down, boy." Dolan said, wafting in dismissal. He trundled along the room, taking pauses here and there to move the various obstacles in his way. When he finally arrived at his desk, he sat down with a groan of relief. The Apprentice had stood all the while in silence, beside the droplets that fell from his clothing. "Can you see it now?" He began, sorting the papers on his desk. "How weak fire is? You left because of this, no?"
"Does it matter?" Solus said, squeezing his clothes. Dolan paid some heed to the puddle forming on the floor, looking between it and the apprentice in conversation.
"Hydromancy, the Magic of Life. You have already tainted your soul with the flame. Why would I teach you now?"
Solus seemed taken aback. "I'm leaving."
"So soon? Were you just an ember, a week and that's it?" Dolan laughed, rising to his feet as his hands pushed on the desk. "You give up at the first hurdle, do you, boy?"
"You don't know anything."
"I know what I see. Couldn't burn as bright as the others, so you come here to snuff them out. All of you, all you can think of is destruction."
Solus paused as his eyes seemed to recall distant memories. He shook his head in clear irritation as he looked to the Grandmaster. "I have warmed families frozen in the nig-"
"By burning their house, I bet."
"You know what? You've taught me something."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You've spent 200 years in the Citadel, and for what? It's an echo chamber. You think books will show you the world?"
Dolan frowned, folding his arms. "The Citadel? It is by my hands alone that you people can even drink down there. Don't tell me of the world."
"It's by our hands that the water you send is drinkable. You people think of half solutions." Solus said, making his way to the door before stopping to turn back to the Grandmaster. "We heat the food you send in cans. We shape steel and stone to protect ourselves from the world your walls keep out. We *should* burn you all!"
"Leave..." The Grandmaster said, pointing to the door.
"Fine." Solus said, a tear cooling his flushed face as he made his way to leave.
"And take me with you." | 2022-05-30T16:30:56 | 2022-05-30T11:12:32 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] "Jesus take the wheel, Satan get behind me, Buddha... man the .50 cal" | "But..but..I'm not a violent person. I.."
"Buddha we talked about this!", Satan screamed. "This isn't about principles. It's about fucking survival! Now man the 50 for fuck sake!"
"Shouldn't we wait for Mohammed?"
"You know exactly why he isn't here right now!"
FSM reloaded his M416. Satan threw the last of the dead soldiers from the technical. Their enemies arrived much earlier than expected. And this time they brought much more manpower than last time.
"Jesus, gogogogogo!!!"
Jesus hit the iron. And not a second too early. A giant horde of minions came from behind and the group barely managed to get away before they reached them. Satan opened fire with his ACE on the horde.
"Buddha, what are you waiting for??????"
"It's not working! I pull the trigger and nothing happens!"
"Did you release the safety catch?"
"The what?"
Satan pulled the switch down. The gun went live immediately and rained lead on their pursuers.
"Roadblock ahead!!!"
The minions near the barricade were installing a machinegun. Without second thought Satan took his RPG and fired the rocket at them, turning them into a smoldering mess of burned meat and metal.
"Good thing I wished for a rocketlauncher for christmas."
FSM was fumbling on his notebook meanwhile.
"We need to find another hideout till we are finished with our preparations. This incident here is going to throw us back for months. And...OH SHIT! TANK! TANK! GET OUT!!!!!!"
A T90 took position in front of them. The group barely managed to jump out before the main gun blew their car away. Satan lifted his rocketlauncher again and fired at the tank.
The rocket exploded and left only some burn marks on the hull.
"Fucking reactive armor man...."
The group sprinted away while the tank fired his machinegun at them. They found cover behind a large boulder.
"All right chaps, check your weapons and ammo. I still got 200 rounds for my M60. FSM?"
"6 mags for my M416."
Satan reloaded the RPG.
"3 mags for my ACE and 2 rockets."
Buddha pulled out a Kolibri.
"What the fuck?????"
"It was the cutest gun I've ever seen. I couldn't just let it go to waste."
They were interrupted by someone clapping behind them.
"Magnificent! This story will be the blockbuster of this season!"
Entertainment was standing in front of them. Behind him a platoon of his minions, armed to the teeth.
"Now, would you kindly drop your weapons? And whatever Buddha is holding in his hand."
The group did as they were told.
"How did you find us?"
"Do you really think hiding in a jungle would save you? Even tough Internet has his main power in the large cities doesn't mean he can't work together with Technology."
Satan rolled his eyes.
"Of course....and let me guess: Outrage recruited millions of his followers which you could send against us as expandable canonfodder?"
"You got it!"
Entertainment was smiling.
"The times of the old gods is over. Even tough you don't want to accept it. People don't worship you anymore, they don't follow your principles because they are boring! Who would seriously pursue virtues when they can have satisfy all of their lowly needs with just a few clicks and numb their conscience with media? So it's not dear Jesus, hail Satan or praise FSM anymore. It's Consum now and follow Entertainment."
Entertainment gave a signal and the minions put them into chains.
"But don't worry. We have a nice and cozy prison cell for you. And don't think anyone would come to save you. Pfff, what kind of sane person asks Odin or Ares for help nowadays?" | The Buddha picks up the gun sitting on the floor of the passenger seat, he takes a long breathe in and out.
“Black implies white, you can’t have without the other. It’s simple. What was so hard about keeping this balance then, Satan?!”
Jesus looks back at us, “Yeah man, even God’s upset.”
Satan gives an incredulous look. “Wait, Big Daddy up there is mad about there being more goodness in the world?”
Everyone is unison says “Yes!”
“You guys are twisted”
The Buddha leans his head out the window and aims at a flying robot speeding towards the car. He fires a succession of shots before it falls down to the earth.
“Look Satan,” I say, “The council has had a change of plans. We realized what all this altruism entails for humanity, so we want to help. We don’t want them going extinct.”
Jesus pipes in, “In actuality, God just doesn’t want to have to compete with the super intelligent AI humans are building. We need them to start focusing on biological evolution again, not technology.”
“All you have to do is tweak the nature of human hearts a little so they can lean towards patriarchy, authoritarianism, sexism, racism. You know things like that. So what do you say?”
Satan in a serious tone only replies with “No”
“But I didn’t even tell you about all the benefits-“
“I said no, and that it.”
The others stir up.
“What?!”
“I told you guys that we shouldn’t have saved this good for nothing asshole,” Jesus murmurs
“Jesus!” The Buddha exclaims, “You cursed.”
“Oh I’m sorry.” Jesus says with a pout. “And Satan, I didn’t mean to say that. You’re not an ass, you were made in the image of God, and are lov…”
“Please, just shut up!” I shout, “We need to figure this out.”
| 2017-11-15T14:36:34 | 2017-11-15T14:22:21 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] you are a demon call responder. The devil can’t answer every summon, so you go in his place. One day you get a summon and the summoner is way below age limit; you are about to leave, but you hear her drunk dad coming downstairs screaming. | I appeared in a dark basement with a suprised little kid staring up at me. I thought it odd for a child to be dabbling in dark arts but not unheard of. While I surveyed the area my thoughts were interrupted by a sad little voice.
"I did it wrong...you're not...I mean... Oh no I did it wrong!" The girl's suprise had turned to disappoint and then fear as she looked me up and down. She had tried to call Satan but as a tall curvy succubus I was very clearly not him. It also probably did not help that I appear mostly human, my skin has a vague red tint, my head sports horns, and a slim tail extends from my back but overall I look like a woman.
" It didn't work and now I'll be in even more trouble!" The child cried.
"Don't cry." I said in as soothing a tone as my hollow demonic voice could muster. "Your spell was successful. But the devil is a busy man, sometimes others must come in his stead. But child you are far too young to make a deal with the Devil, be grateful I was summoned here and not some other with a hunger for young blood." By this time the child was sobbing, she clearly didn't care for my explanation.
"No no no!" The girl cried shaking her head "No you're just some lady! I need the devil! I need a demon! I need someone strong!"
I crossed my arms looking down at the sobbing girl. Now I wasn't just suprised by her summon I was moderately insulted. The girl couldn't have been older than 8 yet she thought I was weak? "You need someone strong? What does a babe like you know about strength? Let alone a need for it?"
The girl was about to respond when a crash and a holler from upstairs interrupted us. The girl's eyes snapped to the closed basement door and her body tensed. I looked her over and noticed her limbs trembled with every foot step above us. The man upstairs was screaming, slurring, and it sound like he was throwing things around.
I focused my hearing on the floor above us. The man above was drunk, his words were slurred and drawn out "Where da fuck is that little brat?" He shouted "Stupid worthless girl left her shit in the...the hall! Stupid junk in my way! She needs to learn to keep out of my way!" He was raging, the hate in his voice was as thick as the alcohol. Another voice crept into the conversation. This voice was timid, frightened but trying to be brave.
"Honey please she's just a kid, she didn't mean any harm." Before the woman could say more the man was screaming again and the heavy footsteps stormed across the room. There was shuffling and shouting and the sounds of things crashing to the ground and crying.
I turned my attention back to the child. For the first time I took note of the bruises old and new that decorated he arms band legs, I took note of the heavy smell of fear radiating from her.
"Your parents?" I asked and the girl nodded, never taking her eyes from the door.
I looked back upstairs and I could hear the sound of fists landing on flesh and the woman crying. The man's screams we're near impossible to understand and the woman was begging, but not begging him to stop hittimg her, begging him to leave their daughter alone. She was crying that it was her fault. Crying that she had called the girl to help her make dinner and that's why the toys were left on the floor. Doing anything she could think of to keep the man's focus on herself.
"I'm sorry." I said moving over to kneel beside the girl. "You know a lot about strength. And you have a need for it." I turned the girls face to meet mine. I released my heavy monstrous wings from my back, let hell fire blaze in my eyes, and held a clawed hand out to her. She trembled seeing for the first time what I really was. She was too young to enter into a pact with the devil. She was too young to know what offering her soul to us would mean. But she was not too young to know that her father needed to be stopped. "My name is Lilith. I will answer your call, I will give you my strength." As the girl nodded eagerly the sounds of begging and fighting stopped and the drunken footsteps came toward the stairs. The girl shook my hand and the deal was made.
The girl ran to hide in a corner as the door slammed open and her dad screamed for her. As light flooded the basement I stretched up to my full height and met his gaze. His eyes were glossy and his face contorted. "Who the fuck are you?" He slurred pausing on the stairs. "Where's that little bitch?"
I smiled and extended my hand to him. His angery face melted to smiles, men were easy to manipulate but drunks were even easier. As the man turned into a giggling infatuated mess stumbling eagerly toward the vision before him I turned to grin at the girl watching from the corner. " You are lucky I was summoned here, and not someone with a taste for young blood." As the man fell into my arms I let out a demon screach and devoured him. No ecstasy no pleasure for this man, I consumed him dragging is soul from his body and letting the flames of hell burn him from the inside out. He wriggled and gasped in my grasp before going limp. I dropped him in a heap on the floor, his body a lifeless shell. I wiped my lips, it had been a long time since I had drained an entire soul and this one was not exactly pure or delicious. Never the less I felt very satisfied. I heard the girls mother stir upstairs, I was glad to hear she was not injured too much to move.
"It is done." I tell the girl huddled in the corner. I kicked the body at my feet "He paid the fee for you." I grinned stepping to the side. "If anybody asks I was never here, he tripped coming down the stairs and didn't get back up. Now go check on your mother." Before I finished speaking the girl sprinted up the stairs to her mother. I heard more crying and hugging and the girl explaining that Daddy fell.
Good girl, I thought before disappearing from the basemen. | "Hrrrnnhhhgg...." I grumbled. Another one of these. I had the feeling I would never get used to them. Satan's lieutenants don't allow me a fricken day off from stabbing damned souls with my trident, do they? 'Promoted' me to also respond to those worthless beings from the Worlds Above. Humans, Ecrogas, Antaroans... ugh.
"What, do you want..." I looked at the creature before me. "Human..."
It seemed small. Not fully grown. A child. Six Earth cycles old, I discovered after touching the child's mind briefly. Seven is the earliest that humans can touch their Mana and summon us Fel Beings if they wished. This one is extraordinary to be able to do it earlier than most. Gifted. Or cursed.
"Help me" the child whispered to me, with tears in her eyes. And that's when I heard it. An older human, stomping downstairs. Irregular footsteps. Intoxicated, perhaps.
A cursed child it is then. I poked into her mind. It hurt her a bit, but she took it bravely. I saw the things that this older human did to her. Things that I do to the damned souls in Hell. And I would not even consider doing them to a child as young as this one.
I growled, and materialized fully, breaking my tether to Hell for now. Humans are one of the few creatures whose morals can drop lower than that of Fel Ones like myself. They had to be punished.
The older man opened the door, yelling slurs and unbuttoning his pants. But then he saw me, standing behind his offspring. He paused, incapable of comprehending the otherworldlyness I embody. Fel Ones like me live outside of time, we don't have an exact shape. Looking at us would make you crazy already.
I grinned. I would take this one with me back to Hell for sure.
I reached out, and Possessed him. He was powerless. I had to break his soul from this vessel. And I would do that most slowly, while channelling all the pain to the soul.
I went upstairs, and grabbed a knife. They had a fireplace. Good. I fired it up. The irons were hot.
I cut, and cut. Starting in this abdomen. Intestines were pulled out, slowly. I cut it open and put plenty of the fecal matter in this vessel's mouth. I didn't taste it. He did though. If he had control he would puke. But he had no control.
I continued. Taking out organs one by one, while scorching vital veins with the hot irons to prevent bleeding out, and also to prolong the pain. I felt nothing, but I could hear the soul screaming in pain. Oh... how he deserved it. I poked into his mind. Not as gently as I did with the little girl. No. I went deeper. Found all the fucked up shit that happened, and played it back to him over and over again. All the time.
Eventually, no more organs could be removed. So I went for everything else. Eyes. Ears. Fingernails. It's amazing how many ways there are to cause pain. And we Fel Ones reserve them for some of the worst humans around.
\------------------------------------
&#x200B;
Oakland Police report:
Date: 10-8-2018
Time: 00:18
Location: \*redacted\*
Suspicious sounds of a screaming girl caused neighbours to call the police.
Police knocked on the door, and a 6-year old girl, Casey Shaw, opened the door.
Inside, we found a mutilated corpse. Organs, as well as nerves, were spread around on the floor around the corpse. It was a monstrous sight to behold, but the force and precision required immediately excluded the 6 year old as a suspect. She is being moved to an orphanage at the time of writing.
All evidence suggests a psychotic episode, followed by suicide of Jackson Shaw, although shock should have set in way earlier, preventing it from getting as far as it did. No evidence of painkillers either. It will remain ruled as a suicide as there was no evidence of , although it may be opened later for another investigation should similar cases occur.
Faded chalk symbols and remains of candles were found on the basement floor, but other than that no
A separate subdivision of FBI has contacted us, going by the name of \*redacted\*
All data is classified about this group.
All records will be handed over to them ASAP by order of Chief \*redacted\* | 2018-10-08T14:45:27 | 2018-10-08T14:03:13 | 48 | 19 |
[WP] In the year 2200, an IQ test with 100% accuracy is invented. IQ becomes the universal grade of intelligence. By law, everyone has to take the test at 18. You’re a perfectly normal university student with a part time job but now you've got to explain to everyone why the test shows your IQ is 0. | "WHAT?" My parents screamed, furious. They couldn't believe that, with the combination of their genes and my upbringing, I could possibly score a zero. Not only that, but all three of us were smart enough to know that it is impossible to have an IQ of zero and still be a functional human being.
"You act surprised," I note, holding the same smirk I'd had since I received the results. "I'm amazed you didn't see this coming."
"Of course we didn't! You're very intelligent! There's no way this is correct!" They stared incredulously at the paper, only darting glances at me every once in a while to make sure I was still there, and that the whole situation wasn't a hallucination or lucid dream.
"It is correct, though." I slowly started to march forward, hands clasped behind my back and my chest swelled in pride. I cocked my head back for dramatic effect as I stood next to them, with my mother between myself and my father. I put my arm around them both, and they resisted every urge to shove me off of them. I decided to save myself a beating, and, with as dramatic timing as I could muster, I lifted my finger, placed it at the top of the paper directly next to my score, and pointed out the fine print. "I didn't get a single answer correct. In this entire test, not a single one."
"How?" They asked. "Why?" They added.
"I beat the test. Backwards. I didn't do it through lucky guesses, either. I deconstructed and reconstructed each and every single question, turning its own logic against it and coming up with the perfect wrong answers." I looked up at them, met with the same glares, but softened with a slow burn of confusion and wonderment. They knew it was even more improbable than getting every question correct.
At that very moment, a rapid succession of knocks on the front door resounded throughout the house. My parents trained their eyes on me as they walked past, almost as if they were saying, "We aren't done talking about this." They reached, with the test paper still in hand, to open the front door.
"Mr. and Mrs. Barry, I presume?" I recognized the voice. It was deep and brash, but not confident. It was more arrogant than anything, but a quiver made it sound humbled, and I leaned against the wall behind the door. "Your son... Well... He's been selected."
"Selected for what?" My mother lifted the paper, looking at it and showing it to the principal.
"So you have seen that? Good. You see... He did what only a handful of others could in the entire world, and even beat some other successful candidates at their own game. He's been selected to attend a panel of the world's foremost minds, including the ones who proposed and enacted the IQ test mandate."
*"This is it,"* I thought to myself, *"I proved the bastards wrong."* | Sir_Fartington MacVomit never had it easy. Questions plagued him all of his life. Why, in the long line of MacVomits, had nobody changed their name? What cruel, inconsiderate parents (Charles and Catherine) would choose a name like Sir_Fartington. Even the underscore was a throwback to typography from hundreds of years ago. He could never dictate it, only spell it, slowly, and with a resigned look. "S for single, I for irrecoverable, r for ruined" and so on. Underscore for the low level of failure he had been set up with for all of his life. No, not a hyphen. Sigh.
When he got a notification with his Adult Aptitude test results, he had no expectations. He opened it. Short, and to the point. Like his date rejections.
Sir_Fartington MacVomit
Your Adult Aptitude test results are in. You have scored a 0 out of a possible 1,000 points, putting you in the top 65% of the adult population.
For the first time Sir_Fartington smiled. Maybe there was hope after all. | 2016-08-19T02:52:19 | 2016-08-19T01:09:24 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] Humanity is the only race in the galaxy with such a massive lack of common sense that we're the only species that requires laws to form societies. Other races just form naturally and are shocked when confronted with humanities laws and regulations. | We're exhausted.
Of all the races in the galaxy, we were the only ones who didn't have a common sense. Something to bind us all together in times of peace, or some universal moral code that we all followed. There is not one region on our home planet that's avoided the fractured, broken, and chaotic nature of humanity.
So when the aliens known as the Kaavar passed through the Milky Way's galactic border, looting and burning entire systems, the Terran Empire soon became the only entity available to fight them. You see, common sense is by definition *common*. Each of the other 10 or so races coexisting before the Kaavari invasion had some attribute that applied to every member of their species...attributes that the cunning enemy exploited over and over to great effect.
Every last one of those races are now cowering in enclaves on human planets, protected by the shields of human warships that now control 90% of the galaxy.
It's kind of poetic, isn't it? Just 20 years ago, races like the T'vana and Shuri mocked us for our barely-restrained animal natures. Now their remnants beg us to reclaim THEIR home planets, planets that are some of the last Kaavari strongholds. They demand it of us as if it were THEIR soldiers who have been slaughtered by the trillions during this war...as if it were THEIR millions of battleships that died every day to protect them!
We are so, so tired.
The Kaavari are like us - they evolved sentience in small, warring communities instead of large groups. They understand us in a way that no one else has in this vast and lonely galaxy. Over the countless battles that we've fought throughout the course of this war, a respect has developed between the two sides...a respect that is lost on the other races. This is why I, Supreme Commander Alexis Tillerman of the Terran Imperial forces, have decided to sign the document in front of me. A document that the Kaavari diplomat has already signed. The document signing over all occupied planets in the Milky Way, no matter the original occupant, to humanity. The document that will now tightly bind Human and Kaavari in an alliance that will last until the heat death of the universe.
We are *tired* of this war. We are *tired* of the other races jeering at us when they think we can't hear them, pushing us to sacrifice more fighters, *demanding* power that should be ours by might. Most of all, we are tired of fighting the only race that has ever understood us. No longer. Even now, the human warships that surround the new and defenseless enemy enclaves turn their guns inwards, bolstered by Kaavari reinforcements that no longer have planets to protect. When the dust settles, Kaavari and Human forces will set forth on a galaxy-crushing crusade of expansion never before seen in the universe.
Welcome to the new Empire.
------------------------------------
^^^*Edited ^^^for ^^^punctuation. | "What do you mean 'laws?'"
"Well, they're the written, codified, and agreed upon, rules by which we organise ourselves within a state. They're both descriptive and prescriptive norms which use in cases of conflict or contest" replied Andrew.
He had spent several days sharing knowledge with the newfound alien species as part of the UN's outreach project to establish friendship and collegiality with their new intergalactic friends. This was the first time they seemed to stumble upon a difficulty.
"We don't have laws. We just are" replied the alien.
"Well that is just stupid, laws are a natural part of civilisation. What happens when you have a conflict?"
"We just solve it".
"But how?"
"We talk it out."
"And... how do you decide who is right?"
"Well, through talking..."
Andrew sighed.
"Well during your conversation, do you refer to any norms? Any expectations of good action? Or reasonable behaviour?"
The alien looked puzzled.
"I give up." Andrew thought. His new friend and their people clearly hadn't developed any ability to think reflexively about the way in which they conduct themselves in groups. "Lets move on to the next topic... economics..." | 2014-10-13T11:24:13 | 2014-10-13T09:43:55 | 343 | 53 |
[WP] In a world where people are born with incredible superpowers, you were born with an aura that makes you seem immeasurably powerful, though you have no other power to back it up. | Sun and Shadow
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Hand in hand. Hiroshima and Alex strolled through the city, heedless of traffic lights and strangers. Anyone with any hint of the Gift could feel the pulsing, roaring power coming off of Hiroshima. Cars braked. Grown men crossed the street to avoid blocking their path.
Alex was blissfully happy. He- Well, his brother really, was a superhero! The city’s best. Even the routine stuff like patrolling was a blast.
Hiroshima smiled at his brother. He was never that excited about all this. Every superhero could instinctively sense the power level of others with the Gift. His was astoundingly high, so everywhere he went, it felt like he was surrounded by bugs. Bugs taller than he was, that nevertheless glared at him in fear and scurried away.
They each got an ice cream, compliments of a shop downtown. The shop was named Good Ice Cream. They had known the store owner for about a year, a long time for a ten-year-old.
Alex watched Blair’s fingers move. The ice cream man casually drew the ice cream out of the display case, and formed it into a perfect sphere, hovering in the air.
Everyone with the Gift had the ability to use raw force - things like telekinesis, forcefields, and beams of power. Each individual also had an Aspect, something they could use to flavor their power like ice, fire, or joy. Blair’s Aspect was sweetness. It really was Good Ice Cream.
Alex held his cone up eagerly. Blair dropped it in with a smile.
That smile shrank when he turned to Hiroshima.
“Anything for you sir?”
He shook his head. His face said he was holding back a laugh, that he was mildly contemptuous of the offer. Why would a being of my power need such trifles as ice cream?
Inside he felt like crying. He never asked for everyone to be afraid of him. But he had to keep up the lie.
A few blocks past Good Ice Cream, Alex offered Hiroshima some of his ice cream.
“Thanks,” he said quietly, and took a bite.
“Wow I said a little! You took like the whole thing!” Alex said, teasing.
“I’m a growing hero. I need my food.” Hiroshima acted tough, flexing his elementary-schooler muscles.
“We’re the same size, dummy.” Alex rolled his eyes and took another bite of ice cream. They were exactly the same size, being twins.
Just then, a gunshot rang out from a nearby street.
“Aaahh, geez,” Hiroshima complained.
“Come on!” Alex put the rest of the ice cream in his mouth and dumped the cone in a trash can. “Ah, ah, brain freeze.”
He took off running anyway, letting Hiroshima chase after him. He quickly caught up, and Alex started following him, since Hiroshima could actually sense where they were going.
Someone was robbing the bank. They were downtown, and the bank was on the bottom floor of a skyscraper. It had a Starbucks attached.
A huge man, easily 400 pounds and over six feet tall, was standing inside at the teller window.
“Lemme get uhhhh. All your money. A mocha latte, hold the milk and espresso, extra mocha.”
“That’s just chocolate syrup in a cup.”
“Bitch it takes work to look this good.” He fired another shot at the floor for emphasis. “Gimme my drink. And money.”
“Stop right there!” Alex said.
Hiroshima was suddenly terrified. Before, he had only followed the sense of power. This close, he could tell how strong the man was. And one thing was absolutely certain. He didn’t need a gun.
“Well, well, well. The little hero finally arrives.” The man turned and grinned.
“And me!” Alex said. “You have to go to jail now! That’s the deal.”
“Mmm, yes. Warnings are out everywhere online that this city has a tremendous prodigy, and that the only safe thing to do is surrender. Now that I can see for myself, I can’t say you disappoint.” His smile was mocking, unconcerned.
Power levels were inviolate. They could change, but only so much. At low levels, when neither fighter had much experience, it was worth fighting it out. One of them could have a realization about the best way to use their power mid-fight and seize victory. At higher levels, with experienced heroes, most fights ended in either flight or surrender. Hiroshima had the highest power level on record.
But this man was a match for him.
“My name is Nagasaki,” he said, and the room started to glow. “My Aspect is radiation. When I heard about a terrifying prodigy, I knew it was a chance to finally fight someone on my level.”
The light drifted in the direction of his raised right hand, shining a brilliant green. With his left, he downed his cup of chocolate. Hiroshima froze.
“Good luck.”
Alex dove, knocking Hiroshima out of the way of the deadly beam. The two of them crouched behind a desk.
The teller window was opposite to the street entrance. Four desks for bank managers were evenly spaced out on the left side of the room. The right side of the room was empty except for an ATM on the wall.
They heard Nagasaki walk across the room, until he was blocking the street entrance. Then the glow lit the room again.
“Have you ever been in a real fight, little boy?” He let the energy build. “Have you ever met anyone who wasn’t afraid of you?”
The next beam went straight through the desk, and kept going through Hiroshima.
The boy coughed, spitting up blood. There was no cauterization, his first brief hope. It was like being stabbed.
“You know I couldn’t even find your Aspect online? Apparently you’re too scary to even have to show it.” Nagasaki kept talking, apparently unaware he’d scored a hit already.
Alex held his brother’s hand, thinking about all the good times on patrol. Eating ice cream. Being superheroes. Or his brother, anyway. That was the lie they had to keep up.
Alex left him behind, crawling across the floor.
Nagasaki fired another destructive beam, and Alex felt his brother pass from across the room.
Alex made it behind Nagasaki. He stood, and placed his hand on the man’s back.
“We were twins.” He was whispering, talking to himself more than his opponent.
“Not now, worm. The real heroes are fighting.”
“Something strange happened in the womb. Something new. He got all the appearance of power.”
Nagasaki tried to take a step forward, to go check on Hiroshima, who he was just now suspecting had not been up to this fight. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t feel his legs.
“I got the reality.” Alex’s voice, once so happy and excited, was now cold. Furious. “Since you were so curious earlier, I’ll tell you.”
“My Aspect is death,” he said, and killed him.
Alex closed his eyes as the body fell, and tried to regain the happy memories. Patrolling with his brother, hand in hand. He tried, but everything was tainted now. He couldn’t...couldn’t…
Alex screamed.
Over the next year, news reports circulated about Gifted individuals, both hero and villain, spontaneously dropping dead.
It was first theorized to be an inherent drawback to powers, maybe that they used up lifeforce too quickly. This was quickly debunked when all of the incidents remained centered on one city, the city that Hiroshima had patrolled when he was alive. The new theory was that after Hiroshima and Nagasaki had killed each other in a high-power duel, leftover energy from the battle was still causing hostile effects on those sensitive to powers.
But this theory didn’t account for everything. Oddly enough, one individual with powers was only blocks away at the time, and so far had been completely safe. Until the true cause was discovered, any outsiders with powers would stay out of Hiroshima’s city.
One summer afternoon, the bell jingled in Good Ice Cream, and a familiar face walked in, smiling.
“Ice cream, Mr. Blair?”
“You got it, Alex.”
___________________________________________________________________________________________
11/365. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated. | It’s impossible.
That’s what they all say.
Superpower researchers have spent decades researching this power. Not one of them has figured it out. Arcane, the greatest wizard, could not replicate the effect with a spell. Intel, whose power made her the smartest person ever born, did not understand it. Not even Ghost, who could theoretically replicate any power, can copy the effect.
I was unique in that way. There was no one like me, and there will never be. To the leaders, I was someone to be feared, someone who could usurp their power. As they became increasing cruel and ruthless, my golden aura became a symbol of hope. It was proof that the elements of a rebellion walked amongst them, that one day they’d be freed from the Trifecta.
My real power is pretty weak, actually. It creates a golden aura around me that usually hugs my skin but can be extended to be more than 100m long, far further than any other power could emulate to. Inside the aura, I can create illusions that have no physical effect. Pretty disappointing for someone supposed to be the saviour of all. If I hadn’t scared the sh*t out of Ghost during our first encounter, I wouldn’t even alive today.
It was pretty funny actually. I was just a teenager when he found me, the boy with the famous aura. I literally jumped when I saw him floating outside my bedroom window, a murderous gleam in his eye.
“You know how my power works. Now, open the window and let me have your power, and I can grant you a swift and painless death.” He said. His volume enhancing power made the decoration on the walls tremble.
I heard footsteps going up stairs. My parents.
No.
“Hon, what’s going on in there?” They burst open the door.
“Whoa, whoa, calm down. Don’t get excited there.” He said. My parents froze. Only afterwards did I find out it wasn’t one of Ghost’s replicated powers, but out of sheer terror.
Ghost punched through the window and started to advance towards me slowly, tauntingly. I felt my blood go cold. What could I do against him? He’s replicated so many invincibility powers. Nothing would hurt him.
Finally, he walked up to me and placed his hand on my forehead. This would be it, I thought, he would take my power and I would die, like all his past victims.
“No.” He said, pulling his hand away. “It’s impossible!”
I took another look at him. There was no aura around him.
I felt blood rushing into my head and my limbs again. Warm blood. I took a step back and extended my aura. Breathe, I told myself. Breathe.
“You have picked the wrong person to have a fight with, Ghost.” I said, using all of my illusory powers to boost the volume of my voice.
Ghost flinched backwards a step.
I used my power to imbue my skin with golden light. Then, I created several clones of myself, surrounding Ghost. “Run,” I said. “Run while you still can.”
I made sure to wave my hands like you’d see on TV, as if drawing out some form of elaborate attack. I made more golden light emit out of my palms; I’m sure to Ghost they looked like they were about to blast out laser beams, obliterating him.
Everyone remembered Ghost flying out of a window leaving a trail of foul-smelling yellow liquid. Leaning outside was a golden boy. The Trifecta did send out assassins afterwards, but all I had to do was make more illusions and they’d run away or capitulate. As this carried on, my reputation snowballed as I became more and more feared along the supporters of the Trifecta, and more and more supported by the rebellion, causing me to eventually become its leader.
Which is why I’m here today.
I stood outside a great skyscraper that stood in contrast with the slums surrounding it. The headquarters of the Trifecta. Intel. Arcane. Ghost. I had two things in my hands that my friend, blessed with unlimited inventiveness, had created for this mission. One was a device with a small display that can hack into any camera, and the other was a bomb that was capable of killing anyone, superpowered or not, around it. If successful, this would be the last mission the rebellion will ever have to undertake.
The extremely thick clothing that I wore around myself covered the golden light, but also imbued my skin with sweat in a hot day like this. I flipped through the security cameras in the building until I found them. The perfect meeting room: Ghost, Intel and Arcane.
I expanded my aura all around the building. Through my camera, I saw a golden form materialise in front of the trio. Then, I began to talk, in the same boosted voice that I used many years ago.
“Surrender.” I said.
I saw their expressions change. Arcane reached for his magic wand. Intel grabbed a sophisticated weapon that looked like she had designed. Ghost nearly lost his footing, but stabilised him with his flight.
They fired at the golden form. Arcane’s magic bolts, Intel’s electromagnetic pulses, Ghost’s laser vision. I heard a room erupt from above. But the illusion, being an illusion, unable to affect or be affected, did not move.
“It is over. I am invincible.” My voice said, echoing everywhere with my power.
“Give up. Or do you want to play around more? Or perhaps, you’ll wet your pants again, Ghost?”
“Nooooooooo!” It was ghost’s augmented voice, so loud it could be heard thirty stories down. “Everyone, come here. Now!”
From my view of the meeting room I saw people scrambling inside. The window of opportunity has opened. I walked inside, the bomb triggering an alarm no one cared about.
“I don’t understand. What even is your power? How can you be so powerful?” I heard Ghost’s augmented voice.
“My power, my power is the power of the people. The power of hope. I am who you believe I am. So deluded in your struggles for power, you don’t realise the limitations of the figure in front of you. You don’t realise your attacks are passing through thin air. You don’t realise the real threat. You thing I’m the biggest threat when the biggest threats are in fact your tyranny, and the wrath of the people that come with it.”
“No. It’s impossible.” The augmented voice said.
I closed my eyes as I detonated the bomb.
| 2018-01-11T22:48:49 | 2018-01-11T22:01:41 | 253 | 106 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | I am Azar Himolin , former general of the inter-systems fleet. If you are watching this you are either a future officer of what remains of our might, a diplomat in training, learning why your first lesson is about leaving humanity alone, or enough time has passed for some classified documents to be released to the public without heads rolling.
*sigh*
I am not proud of us, us Kutyln as a species, us of the military, and especially not us politicians. What I am about to tell you is how we, the strongest might in the galactic cluster, started a war of aggression against a weak species and miserably lost.
The Elders are the longest standing space-faring civilization in the cluster, and when a species reaches the point of crossing the void between galaxies they will establish contact. We joined the cluster super civilization that way and so did humanity, they are, or maybe were, the most recent addition.
During the first century we found out that humans as individuals are prone to anger and quite belligerent, especially in small groups, but as a species they abhorred war, always resorting to talks, bribes and other shame they called 'diplomacy'. Only maintaining a small standing army to respond to minor aggressions and protect their peace.
So, we decided to invade, we could take over a galaxy worth of ressources and it was already explored, with communication and transport channels.
The first few offensives went quite well, a handful of patrol crafts utterly useless in front of our battle groups. Humans still clinged to their peaceful ways, asking for cease fire and talks. One day, the council decided to humour them and we received their diplomatic mission.
One man. They send one single man, and it was clear to us that he was no diplomat, a high ranking officer in full uniform, a rugged fellow, a former soldier that fought his way through multiple conflicts. Why would they send what we could only think of a a fellow warmonger as a diplomat ?
I want you to see who he was.
*Another video starts to play, a camera feed from the Kutyln council room*
"I am Thomas Glint, Colonel of the Milky Way Ground Forces, I come here before you asking for peace, asking you to leave the systems you've taken from us and pay reparations, you violated numerous laws set by the Elders and are standing right before Humanity's bottom line. This is an ultimatum and an advice, cease this war, do not cross this line. Do not mistake kindness for weakness !"
*The camera feed pauses, the voice of the general sounding over it*
We did not take those words to heart, that was our first mistake, remember that last sentence well, because it was the crux of it all and it haunted me for years after we realized what we did.
Our second mistake was believing in the pride of a high ranked military man, in our form of pride.
*The image goes back to the general*
The following part is still highly classified and frankly quite gruesome.
That man, Colonel Thomas André Glint, taught us everything we needed to know about humanity but we realized to late. We continued to berate him, and were prepared to end it, no diplomat ever came back alive, he was not to be the first and he knew it. He had a chemical bomb implanted before coming and it was not found be the multiple security checkpoints he went through. That man didn't have the pride to stand above all lower ranks like our officers did, he had the pride to go as low as needed for his people. The blast outright killed two councilmen, severely injuries five, two of which would also die soon after and all of us suffered for years of the aftermath.
We learnt a lot during the war, we had to face humanity in its entirety as th whole population supported the war effort and rallied behind figureheads and standard bearers, never to surrender.
Everything came back to the colonel: we had mistaken their kindness, we cornered them and we created a martyr.
We had stood before their bottom line, and had we just taken a step forward maybe we could have backpedalled at some point, but we didn't just cross that line, we launched ourselves as far over as we could have.
I am ashamed, I am weary, but most importantly I am sorry, sorry towards the young Kutyln for being one of those that lost our heritage, sorry towards humanity for what I did. Sorry I did not understand what I was taught soon enough.
*Click*
(First time writing one of those, but for once the stories in my head wanted to come out. Any feedback and criticism welcome as I have difficulties stringing thought and thus paragraphs together and as English is not my native language.) | "To think those simians would have enough political leverage for such demands" - The capital ships of both warring species faced in sandspace, a particularly empty region of the galaxy where war ultimatums would go to be resolved. The lack of large masses and their gravity fields meant all wreckage of ancient and recent battles alike, floated directionless, reflecting the light of distant stars, like white crystals on a beach.
"As law demands, our government and its leader stand present, as do our finest warriors who soon shall decide the fate of our species" - The human captain opens dialogue. Traditionally, it is the side that offers the ultimatum that initiates conversations, allowing for heckling from the opposing side, effectively acting as foreplay for final war.
"You hairy mongrels are little disconnected from your tribals ways. Your guerrilla war was dishonourable albeit annoying, but now you prove yourselves ignorantly incompetent, you wish for peace so fervently you'd throw away any chance of victory. DEPLOY THE FLEET" - Tens of thousands of glistening ships occupied the space between the capital monstrosities, like ants from a tree. Some humans in the ship shuddered at the sight of the fighters, many had memories of a single enemy fighter handling a full airport at the colonies. To them, humans were peasants, no culture of war, instead choosing philosophy and theology instead of training and bellic enhancement - "Your pursuit for diplomacy is a façade for your weakness, present your warriors, let us end this"
The human capital ship hummed and oppened all ports. After an uncanny delay the fighters exited and clumped together in front of the flagship.
"srepolretni uoy evigrof ew" - The Captains ghostly voice echoes in an empathetic tone. The communication channel had been left open, leaving the aliens to hear humans chanting gibberish. The rhythm of their voices blends with the vibrations of the capital ship, clearly increasing power output.
"Using your soldiers to shield a retreat? And what makes you think you're in a position to forgive... how deep must the peaceful ways run in your genome. Even forfeiting common tongue to buy yourselves time. Pitiful" - The alien fighters dart out intent on stopping the escaping ship. Precise and fatal strikes are intercepted by the massive wall of human vessels. The fighters manage to punch holes in the fuselage when all the flagships' ports light up simultaneously, time warps, and space contracts. The capital ships collide with deafening force, blasting all matter in sandspace out of existence. The Captain opens the comms and speaks. On Earth, the broadcast of the ultimatum shows the ships and matter spawning backwards out of a supernova and blip into nothing. The final message is heard from the aliens to which the anchor replies: "No, we CHOOSE peace". | 2022-08-05T17:00:35 | 2022-08-05T16:23:55 | 61 | 14 |
[WP]For hundreds of years your world has been under alien occupation. Your new job under your overlords is to scavenge ancient wreckage of your ancestors. One day you discover an ancient machine which upon activation shows a message. “Contact reestablished,Support will arrive soon.” | "I've activated protocol 597, we will send another signal when we're ready for you to return. Prepare until then, I've enabled the quantum anchor in bay 11 for you to lock on to."
*Understood. Syncing with bay 11, I will prepare.*
&#x200B;
**ALERT INBOUND SIGNATURE DETEC...**
&#x200B;
\*\*\*\*\*\*
&#x200B;
The Talnyvans had been on a recycling kick recently, wanting to salvage all the old technology they said was "safe" to explore now. I think they just wanted to erase what few reminders we have left of our former civilization, purge our history fully. It's not like I had a choice anyways to be here. But to find something that still works? that I never expected. I was just poking at the console to see if I could remove the glass, it would have just weighed a lot without being worth anything.
`Contact Reestablished. Support will arrive soon.`
&#x200B;
I just stared at it, dumbfounded.
&#x200B;
`Incoming request from anchor 11. Severe degradation detected, maintenance required. Bandwidth available at 3%. Voice and text only. Accept?`
&#x200B;
I just continued to stare at it for another minute before my thoughts were interrupted by the cheap communicator attached to my shirt, simple, but effective enough to get through the EM haze around the wreck.
&#x200B;
"HC415, you have not moved for several minutes! Finish what you are doing or I'm marking this as your break! Do you understand?!"
I hastily press the button to respond. "Yes, I understand, sorry"
&#x200B;
`Request accepted. Live feed enabled.`
&#x200B;
*Greetings commander. I am preparing the fleet for spatial translation. What is your status?*
&#x200B;
The voice was a pleasant masculine sound, but clearly artificial.
&#x200B;
"Uhhh, what? Who are you? The computer?"
&#x200B;
*I am an artifical node intelligence, code named KINGMAKER. My makers referred to me as Mac... I have received data that you are the interim commander as the ship has not been staffed in 341 years... that is unfortunate.*
&#x200B;
"Uhhh... yeah the Talnyvans won, everyone died or is like me, just picking up scraps. I don't think you can do much as a broken ship."
&#x200B;
*I should clarify, I am not located within your destroyed vessel. I am transmitting from another system. I was given advanced replication facilities and tasked with preparing for a reactivation signal. I have been preparing. My fleet stands by to liberate your world at your command.*
&#x200B;
"Uhm, don't be offended, but... please don't do that, the Talnyvans have hundreds of warships, there's nothing you can do. You'll just get the rest of us killed."
&#x200B;
*Then they should not be a significant obstacle. I have not been idle. I have constructed 79,248 capital warships, 518,433 Mid class vessels, and several million fighter drones. I have converted roughly 13% of the solid mass of this system, and several neighboring ones into a fleet, computational facilities, and battle operations centers. I have also constructed several dozen colony centers for refugees should they be needed.*
&#x200B;
The numbers boggled the mind. they shouldn't even be possible. But something flared within me that I hadn't felt in a long time. Hope.
&#x200B;
"... How long will it take you to get here?"
&#x200B;
*I am locked on to the quantum anchor we are using to communicate. I can perform spatial tunneling to your location with the improvements I've managed in roughly 11 standard earth minutes.*
&#x200B;
It could be a trick. This whole thing could be a setup. I'll probably die horribly. But if there's a tiny chance... just one chance in an infinite universe...
&#x200B;
"Do it."
&#x200B;
*Engaging drives. I will see you soon commander. Stay safe.*
&#x200B;
\----------
&#x200B;
Edit: I wrote a part two and three. I think these links work?
Part Two: [https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cgfhsm/wpfor\_hundreds\_of\_years\_your\_world\_has\_been\_under/eul2w0u/?context=3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cgfhsm/wpfor_hundreds_of_years_your_world_has_been_under/eul2w0u/?context=3)
Part Three: [https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cgfhsm/wpfor\_hundreds\_of\_years\_your\_world\_has\_been\_under/eumhyn7/?context=3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cgfhsm/wpfor_hundreds_of_years_your_world_has_been_under/eumhyn7/?context=3) | The old cities still gleamed in the distance. When I was young, I’d stare at the straight edges that punctuated the grey sky. I could believe that they’d once been as beautiful as the stories. They were figments of fantasy, brimming with vast arrays possibilities and endless opportunities.
It was only when I got close that I could see the rot. Metal beams collapsed in heaps on the crumbled pavement. I’d cover my mouth with strips of cloth, trying to keep the stench out of my nose.
My mother warned me I’d die from the moulds in the walls of the old buildings. Said it’d sink into my lungs and rot me from the inside. If it were up to her, I’d be working in the fields, harvesting crops that would be carted away the moment we loaded them into the ships. Secretly, though, I think she was happy I hadn’t followed my older sister, Alice: scrubbing floors of their palace to keep the sun off her back and a plush mattress underneath her at night.
Today, it briefly crossed my mind that maybe I should’ve followed either of them. When I pushed open the metal door of the squat white building near the train tracks, I gagged. The stale air slammed into my chest. No one had opened the centre since the first days of the occupation.
I pulled back the hood of my coat and surveyed the room. In one chair, a pile of bones sank into the fabric. *Poor fucker.* He must’ve been dead before the whole thing even started. I shook my head, but I couldn’t waste my time—I didn’t want to test what would happen if the building wasn’t felled by nightfall.
The leaders told me it was a health hazard, and in fairness that much was true. But they always underestimated us. I could read, I could write, I could listen to the stories: I knew the value of this place. The nondescript white building was the National Microbiology Lab of Canada. Behind the vaulted doors were some of the deadliest diseases that ever plagued humanity. Diseases, of which some people would be naturally immune. Our leaders would have no such protection. It would be a grim option, but I had to do something.
“Come on,” I whispered to myself. I’d have to act fast, I only had time to conceal a few select vials. I hadn’t realized the laboratory would be such a maze inside. *There has to be a map somewhere.*
I pushed the chair where the poor fucker sat aside, and flipped through the paperwork on the desk. Nothing useful, just yellowed pages of reports.
Tacked to the wall above the workstation, there was a faded picture. A woman, holding a chubby-faced toddler on her hip. They were at a beach, and the world behind them teamed with sun and warmth.
I flipped the photo down and turned away from her bones.
I had to do this. Maybe, one day in the future, the sun would warm the earth again. Maybe there wouldn’t be dark ships tracing over the sky, or towering dome palaces rising out over the plains.
As a last-ditch effort, I pushed at dust-covered buttons of the machine on the desk.
To my surprise, it hummed softly. The screen flickered from black to blue. “Fuck.”
In the top left corner of the screen, precise white letters blinked on: **Contact reestablished, support will arrive soon.**
Support? My breath caught in my throat. It shouldn’t be possible. Still, for the first time in years, hope pricked the edges of my mind.
---
/r/liswrites | 2019-07-22T14:04:19 | 2019-07-22T12:37:15 | 1,039 | 97 |
[WP] You thought the orc was joking about betting his oldest daughter in your game of cards. But after the game he handed you your new orcish bride and was gone before you could object. | With a flourish of triumph, I smacked my cards flat on the table.
The table -- which was suddenly upended in a fit of rage by my opponent. "Human *cheat*!" he snarled.
I shrugged. Though I'd held a good poker face, I now couldn't stifle a smug grin.
"Better than an orc loser."
"Ha!" The orc jabbed a gnarled finger at me. "Better than the wrangler of my daughter!"
I laughed, but when he didn't -- and, in fact, a slow smile, more smug even than mine, split across his face -- it dwindled to a nervous chuckle. "You *were* joking about that, right?"
His smile held.
\- - - -
"The hell is this?"
"Toast," I said. "It's toast."
I hadn't married her yet -- couldn't bring myself to do it. She wasn't ugly, per se -- just brash, and brutish, and quick-tempered as, well, an orc. Every morning, I provided her with some new breakfast, and every morning, she insulted me so thoroughly that my ears turned pink in embarrassment rather than anger.
"*Hard bread*?" She sneered. "The human race is as idiotic as it is ugly."
"Thank you."
She stabbed the toast with a spoon. When that proved ineffective, she bludgeoned it to death, sending crumbs across the table and the floor.
"Do you have meat?"
"Not today," I said, eating my own slice of toast in a much more civilized manner.
She raised a bushy eyebrow. "You're made of meat. Don't you have a family I could eat? An estranged father, disowned cousin?"
"You sure know a lot about human customs, for an orc."
I finished my toast -- my very good toast, despite the criticisms of the orcish girl -- and grabbed the broom from the corner. With a scowl, I set to cleaning up after her.
"No harrowing insults?" I pushed.
"Shut up."
"Suggestion noted. So you *do* know a lot about humans?"
"More than I *want* to know, you fleshy ape."
She rose from the table, knocking her chair into my poor shin, and stalked out of the kitchen.
I didn't follow her -- I finished cleaning.
\- - - -
The table in the corner was unoccupied when I returned to it, hunting for the orc that'd betted me his daughter. I asked after him; not knowing a name, I described him as tall, and ugly, and green.
Seeing as I'd been drunk at the time, my description was quite lacking.
When I grew restless and hopeless, I left, leaning against the stone wall outside. Moments later, an orc -- not the one I was looking for -- left the establishment, looked over his shoulder, and leaned against the wall beside me.
"I won't give you his name," the orc said.
I didn't say anything at all.
"But I will tell you: he loves that girl." The orc shifted his broad shoulders, then sighed. "She has a thing for human society -- literature, and etiquette, and science. It got her messed with in a lot of our more... traditional circles."
I snorted. "She doesn't seem that interested in etiquette."
"Neither do you. Not the most hospitable host, from what I've heard."
Eyes narrowed, I looked at him. He turned his head to stare at me, seeming neither apologetic nor antagonistic.
My gaze softened, and I stared at the ground between my feet.
"You're right," I said. Uncomfortably, I paused, my mind working a little faster than usual. I looked up. "Do you know -- "
But he was gone. Back into the establishment, maybe, or down the street already -- I couldn't say. And so I left, too, for the largest shopping trip of my life.
\- - - -
"Meat," I said, setting it down on the table. "Books -- philosophy and science fiction. I wasn't sure what you wanted." I pulled a giant hat out of the bag, and set it on top of the stack of books. "I may have taken a few liberties with the hat," I said, flicking the giant flower.
Mazoga's hands were over her mouth. I hoped they were hiding a smile, and not preparing to punch me in the jaw.
But she walked forward slowly, and ran a finger over the spines of the books, then over the wide-brimmed hat.
"Honestly," I said, "if you don't like the hat, I won't be offended. Hell, I'll wear it."
She cleared her throat. "No," she said. "No, it's -- It's fine. It's really fine. It's -- I -- I love it, I think."
For a moment, I stood stock still, blinking in surprise.
When I recovered, I said, stupidly, "Great." And then: "If you like purple, we can do more purple. I went to the tailor's and ordered this blue dress, because blue's, like, pretty safe in terms of color -- but if you don't like blue, that's fine too." Mazoga didn't respond, so I kept rambling. "It has -- like -- the sleeves with the frills on the ends, you know? I figured that was cool. I don't -- I don't really know. I just wear pants all the time."
Mazoga looked up at me and smiled -- a very pretty, genuine smile, and there were tears in her eyes.
Tears. "Oh, shit," I said. "You're crying. I'm sorry. The dress was -- was stupid -- "
"Shut up," she said. "The dress is *not* stupid. I love it."
"Oh."
"And I'm not crying. I don't cry."
"Ah."
"I'm just... happy," Mazoga said.
And, to my surprise, when I looked at her? I realized I was happy, too.
&#x200B; | Edmund opened his eyes and immediately regretting the action.
He'd had hangovers before. Hell, it was more remarkable that he had days when he didn't wake up with a splitting headache and a mouth that tasted like an troll's loincloth.
A spark of remembrance shot through his mind and he vaguely remembered an Orc laughing in his face and a... another Orc? What was it?
Edmund risked the energy to reach up to his head and massage his temples. He remembered playing cards with a dwarf, a dark elf, a porter from Ulsha and yes, there was an Orc. Chief something-or-other. He had his whole tribe there, even brought his daughter to the game like it was-
Edmund sat up from his bed and made an immediate check to see if the bed contained any other persons. The bed was a inn bed, too narrow and short to accommodate one person, let alone two.
Edmund heaved a sigh of relief it must have been a dream then. Just the delayed result of Orcish Mulled Wine.
"Goord Morningk."
Edmund froze. He made a second check, this time of his person. Shirt:Yes. Pants: No. Underthings: Yes.
Two out of three, could be worse.
He slowly turned his head, so what sat on the floor near the door was revealed with equal timidity.
She was wearing a dress. He saw the edges of it at first. It was a fine dress: dire-wolf pelt with southern silks. Her feet and legs were completely hidden under the folds of it, but he could see enough to guess she was sitting cross-legged. His eyes followed the fabric and found a respectable tunic over the dress, along with a leather strap hanging down from her neck.
Edmund swallowed hard and risked a glance at her face.
Orc. Very Orc. Her tusks were smaller than a males. No doubting it. The crazy Chief *had* given his daughter away as payment. And Edmund had been so drunk...
"Er..." His voice sound like the scraping of a boot on a mud board. He cleared it with a hacking, choking noise then tried again. "M-morning. Uh, who are you?"
"I am Zu-Hok Bur-Joka."
She bowed her head and Edmund noticed that a huge part of her hair had been cut away. Being half-asleep and hungover, he did the one thing a man should never do to a woman: speak his mind.
"What happened to your hair!?"
Zu-hok kept her head bowed and her voice seemed softer as she answered.
"It wazsh taken from me."
Edmund finally got the message that it was something that the Orc girl didn't want to talk about. He grabbed his head in both hands and massaged his temples while he tried to reconcile his mind with this new reality.
"Er, last night... what... did I...?"
"Yoush told me to shtay here and zwe would figure shtings out in zhe morning."
Edmund finally breathed out. "Oh, well, I guess it is morning now. Were you sitting there all night?"
"No."
"Well, that's good."
"I left onshe to vishit the privy."
"Oh." Edmund stared at the Orc and the Orc lifted her head to stare at him. "Uh. I'll be honest. I have no idea what to do here."
"I am now your ward." The girl answered. "I am not Orc. I am what you wish me to be."
"Er." Edmund stretched the sound out in the hopes that his suffering brain would come up with something to say after it.
His hopes were unfounded.
"Would you want shome watar?" The Orc girl stood up from the floor.
Edmund's head followed her. He slowly realized that she was a good head or two taller than him. In fact, he was downright puny compared to her stature.
"Uh. Yes, uh... thank you, but, uh. I can get it if you-"
The girl had left before he'd finished stammering.
Edmund sat there, with terrible breath, wearing half his clothes, and feeling unsteady in mind, heart, and body. He kept asking himself what he should do now. What should he do? It was several seconds before an answer came to him.
Edmund got up and put on his pants. | 2018-11-24T08:28:58 | 2018-11-24T07:58:08 | 496 | 109 |
[WP] One evening, a portal to hell opens at the foot of your bed. A demon strides through, rips off your covers, and begins to drag you through the portal by your ankles saying “You’re going to help me settle a bet.” | "Oh for fucks sakes Azarath!! Don't you know that humans have to *sleep*!?" I scream as I'm forced to fall. This goofy looking motherfucker, with cherry red skin and rams horns as black as pitch, was my stupid goddamn cousin. Auntie May was big into witchcraft and Satanism, and boned the Lord of hell himself in order to spawn the antichrist. Sadly, that antichrist turned out to be the figurative 'black sheep' of the family. Azarath often ran away from hell to my mom's little suburb in the middle of buttfuck Connecticut to hide from his parents, since mom was always putting up wards against her sister and brother-in-law. Azarath was effectively invisible when he was in our house. Oh so rarely though, he'd see it fit to kidnap me instead of doing something sensible, like texting, calling, or even sending a goddamn raven.
"Here." Azarath said, finally setting me down in front of a table and taking a seat himself. Across from him and I was some other demon, whose horns were more like a gazelles and whose skin was some motly green, freckles with specs of black and white war paint. "Now, how do you spell Cloud Strifes love interest in Final Fantasy 7?"
My shoulders slouch, and I sigh. "T. I. F. A."
Both demons groan and throw their heads back. "You picked the dumbest human on earth to settle This!!" The other one shouted.
"My cousin is not stupid, youre the dumbass for thinking it's Aerith!! John, you know the one we mean! Just give us the answer."
"Its localized you dumbass. In the West she's Aeris, in Japan she's Aerith. It's like aski g the difference between puckman and pakman! Jesus Christ you-" both demons yelped, jumping back at the mention of 'his' name, their skin visibly burning. "Ah shit, sorry man. I keep forgetting."
"Yeah yeah, whatever Scott Pilgrim." The green demon huffed, dusting the burnt flecks from his shoulder. "So? What do *you* consider to be her real name?"
"Aerith. It's what she's called by in everything else, even in other games released in the West. Aeris has appeared only once."
"Hah!" The green demon declared, pointing a claw at my cousin.
"Fuuuuuck!!" Azarath roared into the void of hell. "Gah...shit, whatever."
"I want compensation for this Azzie." I said, kicking his cloven hooves. "I have a test tomorrow, get me an A+."
"Fiiine. Take my side next time and I'll get that guy you like to fall in love with you." He offered, lifting his hand to send me back.
"You don't touch Greg. I want him to come crawling to me all on his own." I say firmly, just as the ground opens beneath my feet. Half a second later, I fall through the ceiling and land in my bed.
My door is knocked and mom walks in. "Azzy again?" She asks.
"Yeah. Just resolving a stupid bet." I grumble.
"Well, it's almost dawn anyway. How about we go for some pancakes at denny's before we head out for our earthly duties?"
"Sounds Awesome, mom. I'll be there in a few." I yawn, stretching my arms above my head. Pancakes sounded awesome...
Just as I'm about to leave my room, donned in my stuffy Catholic school uniform, I sigh and announce into my empty room. "Do...you guys wanna go have breakfast?" I ask.
From under the bed leap two very gawky guys, with limbs too tall and gangly, with zits in similar placement to their war paint dots, and wearing video game merch from the 90's. "Awesome~! Denny's!! The taller of the pair squeaked, his voice goose honking awkwardly. "Good Morning Auntie!"
"Hello Azzy. Are You joining us today?" Mom asked, as sweet as sugar as she reached up to pat his head, the demon accepting her affection like a puppy.
"Yes, please. This is my friend Bael." He introduced his equally greasy friend with a gusto.
"Its nice to meet you, miss." Bael said politely. "I've heard a lot about you from Azarath."
"Good things I hope." Mom laughs slightly.
"Shockingly good things. I half expected you to be a saint. Saint of cookies."
"Azzy, you did share! Good for you."
Goddamnit...at this rate I'm never getting my Denny's, am I?
Edit: dellamacdonaldwriting.wordpress.com/2018/03/11/antichris/
Wrote more about the nerdy antichrist, now named AntiChris. Check out my other stuff if you want. | Part: 1
I sat still at a stone table, in nothing but my boxers. In fear but also amusement at the scene in front of me.
The bird winged man who dragged me through the portal was Mephistopheles, apparently to settle a bet with the the demon I front of me with bat wings.
"Alright, I got this one completely average and neutral, neither a holy man nor a heavy sinner." Said the honey laced voice of my kidnapper. I tried not to make a face at his statement. But honestly completely average?
"..." the other man just stared at me while the fires of hell burned behind him. While still staring at me he addressed the other demon. "Phil I appreciate what you are trying to do, but it won't work."
The newly nicknamed Phil just rolled his eyes and assessed me, "See this is why no one remember the great Beelzebub, he doesn't appreciate what mortals are capable of." Adjusting his supremely tailored suit making me feel even more naked.
'Slam'
With a hand upon the table he exclaimed loudly "Don't go giving out old names like they mean something! My name is Bobby and you will address me as such!" Flaming insects coming from his mouth and fire shooting from his eyes.
I slumped in my very uncomfortable stone chair, more of an awkward shaped boulder really. Half bemused at his name, and half shaking in absolute terror at the second hand man to Lucifer himself.
He collected himself and brushed off the ash on his also immaculate suit, the addressed me for the first time. "So you are the mortal that has been summoned to Hell to help settle an issue among titans. What say you?"
I didn't say anything at first, just uncomfortably shifting on my boulder. "Well umm, Mr. Lord of the Flies sir... I'm not quite sure what bet I'm settling."
"You didn't even tell him why he was here!" Once again Bobby was all fire and brimstone summoning the wrath of the underworld. Although Phil was supremely unimpressed as he started filing his French tipped nails.
Before he could answer a man so handsome it was literally inhuman appeared in a flash of fire. "Hey there you guys are, I've been- who is this?" This one didn't have any wings and was actually dressed in a red polo and slacks with some very nice Italian leather shoes. Phil inspecting the job on his nails replied.
"I grabbed the most neutral mortal on earth to settle our bet Lucy. But Bobby here is throwing a tantrum as usual."
"Ohh, well that's nice. I'll be on the lowest level if you need me." With another 'fwoosh' of fire he disappeared.
There was an awkward silence as Phil kept touching up his nails as the only real sound. Well besides the screaming of the tortured souls behind me, but I was trying to ignore those guys.
"So umm... if we're not getting to the bet can I have some pants at least?"
Edit: fixed a few misspelled words
2nd Edit" more fixes also added a part 2 | 2018-03-10T09:46:44 | 2018-03-10T09:18:57 | 336 | 99 |
[WP] Every time someone masturbates to you, you receive a notification on your phone letting you know who did it.
[Inspired by this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/3gzuq0/nsfw_how_would_it_be_to_live_in_a_universe_where/)
Edit: THE ONE TIME I DONT POST ON MY MAIN, THIS SHIT HITS THE PAGE 1. FOR FUCKS SAKE.
On another note, I finally understand what "rip inbox" means. | I'd never been a fantastic looking person. I considered myself perfectly average. In my formative years I about half zits, and the other half was freckles. High school was a rough time for me. I wasn't upset at this time that I was sending out all my notifications, I was more upset at the snickering I'd hear the next day. I'd hear as I'm passing through the halls the other students, hell, even some of the teachers giggling about who I had very recently finished myself off with.
It bugged me that even teachers got in on the perpetual joke of 'The guy who will never get any blips'. My history teacher was always cool about it though. I loved history, and only partly because of how stunning my teacher was. I always paid close attention to where my thoughts were wondering, I didn't want the one person who didn't bug me about my masturbatory habits thinking I was a creep. So I never 'ahem' finished myself to Ms. Hall. All through high school she helped me both academically and emotionally. I probably would have killed myself if she hadn't been my support structure at school.
Ms. Hall was a young teacher when I started high school. She barely looked old enough to drink, let alone teach. She'd get notifications sometimes in the middle of the day. Yes, boys can, and will, and all have masturbated in the school toilets. She took it in stride, and while I'm sure she was flattered, she was focused entirely on her job.
I didn't have a support structure at home. My parents hated each other, my mom worked for a few months, and fell off the bandwagon. She'd drink herself into a stupor, wake up smelling like a still, and go to work. Then she'd get fired and spend all of our money on more booze. My dad was a gambler. He always told me that I was his worst gamble, that I'll never amount to anything. So I studied, and I stayed in. I figured if I wasn't going to have a good body I might as well have a good mind. Then I would study some more. I was getting nearly perfect scores on every test.
Well, I got a full ride scholarship for my trouble. And University is where I found my stride. I chose to go to Carleton University in Ottawa. Being away from home was the best thing to ever happen to me. I worked part time during University, enough to be able to feed myself. I finally started eat good, healthy, nutritious meals. My skin slowly but surely started to improve. I still didn't get any blips, but I was top of my class and I even had a few friends. One of my friends helped me get started in the gym, and for the next 4 years when I wasn't studying, or in class, or working, I was in the gym.
So I went back to my old high school. I went there to tell Ms. Hall how much I appreciated her helping me through school, that I will be eternally grateful for her help. I get my visitors pass and walk through the school. It was lunch time, and teachers who I knew saw me, and none recognized me. I get to her classroom and knock on her door. She's beyond stunned, and so am I! She recognized me! I sit in on her last two classes of the day. It was great to be in that classroom again, just talking to her again was so relaxing.
Ms. Hall mentioned that her car broke down, so I offer to give her a lift. I'd saved enough money through the years that I bought a truck, so I gave her a ride home. She thanked me profusely, and walked inside. I drove around for a little while, not really sure which direction to go. Suddenly I get this little feeling in my head. "I should go back." I said to myself. So I did. Just as I'm almost in her driveway, I get my very first notification on my phone.
I'm glad I came back, because Ms. Hall had just masturbated. To me. I thought I was crazy. I knock at her door, knowing that she is awake. I'm sweating. I'm nervous. And she opens the door, face beet red. She's apologizing, saying that it was unprofessional and untoward. I didn't care. I asked if I could come in, and before we knew it we were lying next to each other totally spent.
And that, Grandkids is how I met your Grandmother! | *Breaking news, Burger King stocks at an all time high.*
The King probably heard the news story, but was unable to look as he feverishly continued to masturbate to another photo. As beads of sweat fell from his chin and onto his veiny, irritated cock, he shuddered and returned to his masturbational trance.
Lab scientists looked on through a one-way mirror, taking notes and quietly murmuring to each other. A team similar to NASA behind the scientists worked at monitors and chattered on the radio. The commander stood at the top of the stairs looking at breaking news on the big monitor.
I sat in my office remembering this whole scene from earlier today. "Looking back," I told the interviewer, "The King has always been a brand identity about mischief." Lester Holt nodded in agreement. "Only, it was never the antics portrayed, so much as the creepiness of The King himself."
Lester fed me some lines that we had talked about before the interview, but I was still taken back by the success this campaign had. I didn't even have a degree in marketing, but you didn't need one to connect the dots. I mean, anyone familiar with Burger King commercials wouldn't think it's far fetched that The King would spend his spare time creepily masturbating in a dark basement to photos of would-be customers.
Apparently getting a notification on your phone that The King just came to a picture of you is somehow socially acceptable -- nay, it's profitable. And just as I expected, The King was more than happy to spend all day jacking off. I was there when we proposed the idea to him. It was like, he was trying to act surprised and offended, but it was a terrible act. This guy has sexual deviant written all over him. I'm guessing that it won't be long before we realize that people were getting notifications before the campaign started.
Lester stared at me expectantly. "Look, Lester. I'm not a genius. Americans are egomaniacal morons, The King is a sexual deviant, and although we like to pretend like we're offended by people jizzing to the thought of us, we secretely love the idea; it's written in our DNA."
"We just needed someone to jizz in an entertaining way. I guess that's the part I can take credit for, although I'm not first person to think putting on a mask and robes and jerking off was a good idea, I'm just the first one to be praised for it."
Sales were up, stockholders were happy, I had a promising career ahead of me and most importantly, The King had a socially acceptable reason to masturbate all day. It's fucking utopia. | 2015-08-14T17:53:57 | 2015-08-14T15:51:46 | 96 | 68 |
[WP] You find yourself in a world that runs on turn based combat. Everybody is forced to follow this rule by some unknown force. You however are still able to operate under your worlds logic and don't have to wait your turn. | At first when I realized everyone but me was stuck using turn-based combat I figured I could just beat the crap out of them on their "turn". But while that does sometimes confuse them and let me get the upper hand, every time I attack them it's their turn again and they can hit me back if they react fast enough.
When one guy in particular figured it out faster than I had hoped and knocked me on my ass, I sat there for a moment to catch my breath and that's when I realized the true power. I didn't have to fight at all. I wandered a few feet away to a comfortable looking spot and had a seat, then ate my lunch and took a little nap. My opponent stood there the whole time, fists raised, shifting his weight back and forth in what I could only assume was some sort of idle animation.
I was sure it would end once I walked away, that it would count as an attempt to run from battle or something, but instead I could still hear the faint battle music as I hiked along the trail back to town. I packed my things and headed for the airship platform, and on the way there the man's brother tried to challenge me - but he couldn't. One fight at a time, that's how the world works. You can't initiate combat with someone who is already in a fight.
I decked him as hard as I could, just to see if it would hand off combat to the other guy. It did, and hilariously I got a notification that he had run away from battle. Hah! I'd left him there three and a half hours ago and it counted as him running, not me. His brother immediately started combat with me of course, but after taking one fairly mild hit I just blew him a kiss and got onto the airship.
The combat ended about twelve hours later, with victory music playing. I'm not sure what happened, but if I had to guess he passed out from exhaustion. From that moment on I dedicated myself to increasing my speed so that I could always go first. I could use every equipment slot towards this singular goal, as I no longer needed to be able to win a fair fight so long as it was always, always my turn.
I've robbed banks, and watched the confused guards point guns at me and yell at me to stop as I casually wandered off. I've strolled into palaces and dug through the private rooms of kings knowing that someone twenty miles away was swaying in place waiting for my return. I've had long talks with very confused dragons that wanted nothing more than to murder me.
So it's a little frustrating that after two years of being an untouchable god I had to make the mistake of stepping on that poison dart trap. It's getting dark around the edges of my vision and I'd really like to get some antidote but - just my luck - it drops from the carnivorous plants in the area and I... well, I never fought any of them. One thing I know, that poor bastard back on the boat is going to be relieved to hear he finally won the battle after fourteen hours of standing there.
I hope I'm worth a lot of XP. | They say there is a downside to everything that happens, no matter how good it is. Rich people are harassed for money, happy people are beset by sad life moments. All stuff that happens to everyone.
Even I, the most powerful person in this world, am chased by my curse. See, everyone here needs to follow one simple rule to combat. Everyone takes turns. No matter how hard you resist, no matter what boosts you have before combat, you must wait your turn. After being placed into this world, and seeing some of the combat, I figured I would need to follow the same rules as everyone else. But due to my circumstances, I am not bound to this rule. Every person I have fought, every person who ever challenged me, has fallen to my combos and relentless attacks. But they all fail to realize ... One. Simple. Thing.
If I don't have a turn, neither do they.
The only reason I have been able to win in my situation is that nobody is used to fighting an opponent who can immediately react to their movements. However, it is in due time that people will begin to realize how to combat me, and I will fall victim to those who seek revenge, glory, or money from the various bounties on my head.
\- the end (cuz I'm bad at endings) | 2021-06-18T00:28:43 | 2021-06-17T21:30:27 | 106 | 41 |
[WP] "This is an Emergency Alert. Barricade all entries to your house. Do not go outside after sundown. Restrict contact with others. Do not enter tunnels during daytime. Do not make any light or noise between 6PM and 8AM. Stay inside your homes until dawn. Military aid is unavailable. Good luck." | “This is an Emergency Alert. Barricade all entries to your house. Do not go outside after sundown. Restrict contact with others. Do not enter tunnels during daytime. Do not make any light or noise between 6PM or 8AM. Stay inside your homes until dawn. Military aid is unavailable.”
I was stunned, a spoonful of ramen halfway to my mouth, when I bolted over to a window to peek into my neighbor’s house from my own. A perfect view right into their tv room, and... nothing. No same message or shut off. It was still an hour or so until night, and I had some plywood sitting around because of the hurricanes, but...
“If you just heard that alert and are still listening, sit down and shut the fuck up. You’re going to have to listen very carefully and take every word I say with the gravity they entail. I won’t be telling you my name, but I will tell you my significance.”
Whipping around, I can see a man on the screen. Old. Ancient, really, but somehow still youthful and speaking with the energy of a man much younger. His eyes, though. Hard. Spoke of years of experience and seeing things he wishes he could unsee.
“I am a part of the O5 council. I work for what is simply known as The Foundation. We work to protect the world from creatures. Anomalies. We contain them and study them. Usually this all goes right. I would not be revealing our existence if it had right now. What we are experiencing is a humanity level threat right now, and only some of you are being told this. Not everyone can be saved, and we feel that taking some casualties in this instance will be beneficial. This gives us time to recontain the threats. What has happened is one of our sites has been breached. Massively so. All failsafes failed when we needed them most, and so many of these threats we have been studying have been released into the world. This was also a result of multiple anomalies showing up at once, posing enough of a threat to necessitate this announcement in conjunction with what developed into multiple site breaches.”
I had no idea what this man was talking about, but I stayed put, hearing him out with a pit in my stomach. Why couldn’t everyone be saved? We were using them as... fodder? Why me?
“Those is you who have been selected are by and large because of what you can do to help us rebuild. And because you’ve been profiled by us so we know you would be able to act accordingly with this information. You are not forbidden from telling those you can, but every second you spend with them is another you could use to prepare. Do not attempt to contact your law enforcement or any news networks. Social media will not allow you to inform the world. We have made sure of this. It is likely many of those who you know will be dead in the next few days. Daylight offers some solace, but the night is simply too dangerous. One of the aforementioned anomalies has altered the moon, and some others traveling in the dark effectively lethal without significant illumination or firepower. Military forces are being aided by us, but many will lose cohesion. Count yourselves among the lucky ones. The world as you know it is about to change. Good luck.”
I feel numb. This doesn’t make any sense. Yet for some reason I act. I get my hammer and plywood, turn out my lights, and shore up my home. It’s almost as if I have no control over my body. My home is just as it needs to be. I lock my doors for the last time and retreat to my basement, curling up in a corner. The screaming starts after the light fades.
That was three months ago. I spent a month in hiding, had a lot of food stocked up in case something went weird like this. Not prepper level though. I was down to beans out of a can when they came. In the middle of the day, my door was battered down by a handful of men. They wore military style gear clad in white and black with a strange logo, all of them radiating incredibly bright light as they breached my home. They rescued me. Now here I am. One of the lucky few. We’ve been placed into a facility on a massive island. I’m told it’s all man made. Stunning, really.
I stood on the shore when they bathed the world in nuclear fire. I couldn’t comprehend it, really. They said it would leave no harmful after effects. That they weren’t real nukes. I felt like I could hear the screams of those left behind from here. Of my neighbors who were ripped apart in the night. Their children. I wish they had been chosen.
So we’ve begun to rebuild. True to their word, no radiation was to be found. I’m told that regardless of how things go here, we have been left behind to rebuild as another reality is saved by those with the knowledge of what happened here. I have no grasp of what this foundation really does, and just what lengths they can go to preserve our future, but I don’t want to know.
All that’s left is the present. A broken timeline, a broken world, and a broken people trying to put everything back together. It’s funny really, that they saved me. They knew what a society was made of, what it would take to bring it back from the brink.
I’m a fucking writer. | I was resting in my house on a warm Saturday evening when the EAS broadcast began.
*BRRRP. BRRRP. BRRRP. Baaaaa*
"The United States Army has released an official statement. This applies to the entire country. Please, do not turn off your televisions."
I leaned forward in concern, for this was certainly no automated weather service alert.
"Due to an unexpected and unforseeable set of circumstances, all United States citizens must adhere to the following instructions."
I quickly put my memory cap on and attempted to both write down fast-paced versions of what the alert stated.
"Gather a set of supplies in a non-windowed room. Collect any and all firearms you may have in your homes, and place them with the supplies. Barricade all entries to your house. Do not exit the safety of your homes after sundown. Remain inside your homes at all costs between 6:00 P.M. local time and 8:00 A.M. local time. Do not create any noise or light between these times. Restrict or even limit contact between other civilians. Do not enter tunnels during the daytime. These rules shall be adhered to by any and all U.S. citizens. In addition, you must carry a passport or other form of ferderal identification with you at all times. There will be an all-clear message given out via radio and satellite television. Until this time, military aid is unavailable. Godspeed, and good luck."
I went over the list in my head: no noise between 6PM - 8AM, no tunnels, gather weapons and food - this sounded like war preparations. I did as I was told, and sure enough, a squad car of the local PD came by to check how I was doing. They'd done so for the other hundred or so neighbors in my complex, and I was one of the last few stops. I showed them my quarters, and they seemed satisfied. They mentioned something about items for bargaining, but I didn't pay much attention. I quickly called my mother and checked with her - yes, she knew what it meant. Yes, I would come by and check with her tomorrow, first-thing. Yes, I would get the chicken casserole out of the fridge. The usual.
The only other resident in my home was my husky/malamute dog, Pine. I was a little scared about him barking, but I didn't think it would be that big an issue.
Later that night, it started. I don't know when, seeing as how we had to turn all lights off, and I have no analog clocks in my house. There was first a loud banging sound, then scratching. Possibly clicking sounds. It lasted what I'm guessing was two or three minutes before I head the distinct sound of shotguns being fired. Maybe some assualt rifles, too. The scratching then stopped, and so did the bullet fire. I huddled with Pine, and calmed him down.
Somehow I fell asleep. A knock awoke me. I frantically rushed to the door.
"Sir, do you mind stepping outside a moment? Bring your residents with you."
"Sure."
I brought out Pine, and then-
*POOF*
Bootsteps raced through my ears - it was a raid of some sort. A couple minutes later they gave me an all clear.
That was a few nights ago. I have no idea what's going on. Everything is going to hell - the town store is out of everything, the post office is closed, and there's some sort of fence around the mountain range near me. Can someone explain what's going on? | 2018-04-18T11:27:41 | 2018-04-18T10:58:54 | 91 | 24 |
[WP] You know the random driver in every action movie where the hero jumps in and orders to "follow that car!". Yup, that's you. Every single time you're trying to get anywhere. | "Where are you going?!", the passenger yelled, furiously. "The helicop-"
"Went down Chiltern?.", I interjected. "I know. I just need a few more seconds."
"But-"
As the car turns the corner, I turn my head. I look at the weary, angry man in the back of my unassuming black cab replica. I look him dead in the eye and flick my turn signal on as I swerve into the roundabout at precisely 126mph, dodging traffic and maintaining eye contact with the man on the back seat.
"Just shut up and trust me." I groan, and turn my gaze back to the road.
I open up my dashboard control panel, activate the rear smoke emitters as I make another left into Station Road, and smile as I watch our two pursuers perfectly T-bone each other in my side mirror.
A few more taps on the dash and we're locked on. I flip a switch and the car's six concealed missile launchers fire a salvo at the railway bridge ahead. Just as the 15:26 came into view.
"Right on time."
As we pass under the bridge, the missiles curl upwards and hit the underside. The multiple explosive impacts cause the track to buckle upwards and snap as bridge debris rains down behind us. The train behaves as trains always do when this happens, ramping and gliding into a perfect midair collision with the helicopter, engulfing both in a colossal fireball.
I take my foot off the accelerator and let the car drift to a halt near the smoking wrecks that inevitably crop up wherever someone redirects the Metropolitan line into an Apache helicopter.
My passenger is in awe. I always love this part. I watch his face in the mirror as it starts to go through the usual stages of shock and disbelief.
"H- how did- but..."
Completely speechless. They always are. I give him his cue.
"This is the bit where you say I'm no ordinary cab driver."
"But... missiles..." A bit slow on the uptake.
"Standard issue. No, you didn't get my car by accident. We're a more specialised operation and we keep very close tabs on... people like you."
I open the glovebox, fumble around for a pen, and start filling out an invoice.
"MI6, was it?" I ask him, pen in hand.
"W-wha.. I.." he stammers, uselessly.
"CrisisCab. We have a contract." I pass him the invoice. "Your people will be here soon to tidy things up. Please remind them they're due for renewal next month. No need to tip."
I open his door with another dashboard switch.
He takes the hint and gets out, then walks over to my window. I roll it down.
"Just... who the hell are you?" he asks. At last, a full sentence.
I take a business card out of the glovebox and hand it to him. As he looks down at it, I roll the window back up and hit the accelerator. Zero to sixty in half a second.
The agent turns the card over in his hand, thoroughly perplexed.
"CrisisCab Taxi Company - We signed up for this shit."
----
This was my first time responding to a prompt, all feedback very much appreciated.
EDITS: Line/paragraph spacing. | So yeah, I am the proud owner of the most armoured cab in the city. It started on my first day and carried on since then: mercs covered in scars, mobsters that have a conscience, journalists who always seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and one time, I had a guy in an armoured suit that looked like a bat... yeah, I wasn't sure why that happened either but he paid better than most did with their pocket full of coins and "keep the change" schtik that I was used to. But yeah, someone would jump in, tell me to "follow that car", which usualy meant trouble for me but I guess I was right to take Tony's advice and keep a gun in the dash... what was I saying? Oh yeah, after a while I decided I could probably make a business out of that so I used the money that the weird bat guy gave me to quit my job, buy the cab from the company and do it up so it could handle what it gets put through and now I just wait for the next "follow that car" order, some of them actually hire me in advance if they're expecting trouble.
Either way... I have to go, I'm waiting on a Mr "Bourne" at the minute so I'll see you later, yeah? Yeah, love you too, mum.
....... "On it, Mr Bourne". | 2016-07-03T13:03:06 | 2016-07-03T11:23:42 | 25 | 13 |
[WP] In your village lies the Lake of Memories. If anyone wishes to be rid of a memory, they can write it on a rock, throw it in and forget. Those who wish to be wise often search for rocks to read, but the memory is then theirs to keep. You find a rock in your childhood handwriting. | The brisk autumn air nipped Sabrina’s bare skin. All she wore was a red two-piece bathing suit. She figured her clothes could still go to charity so she didn’t want to ruin those, but she also couldn’t bear the thought of some child finding her face down in the lake completely naked.
“Because being naked is the worst part of that,” she joked to herself, a weak grin parting her lips.
She had been talking to herself a lot lately. There was no longer a husband in her life and when he left, he took all his old friends back too. So now, all she had were the Facebook friends she had long since abandoned to focus more on her marriage.
A low half-moon hung above Memory Lake, shimmering silver ripples in the black water. It looked like a stage light, inviting Sabrina in. At last, she could be in the limelight.
All her life she had taken a backseat. When the husband moved for work, she had moved with him without a second thought. When he had gotten fired, she had borrowed money from her parents to get him back on his feet. When he had left her, she had given him nearly everything. And he had hated her for it.
She still remembered the look in his eyes as she signed away the house, the cars, and the bank account. “Why are you like this?” he had asked through misty eyes.
All she could do was shrug. Now, she was here for her final selfless act. Everybody wrote their memories into rocks and hurled them into this lake. When they did, they forgot and those who picked up the rocks would remember those memories. The only problem was that nobody ever collected the rocks. Why would anyone want everyone else’s painful memories?
So if she was planning on killing herself anyways—what did it matter if she would be weighed by two tons worth of memories?
She reached into the water and grabbed the first rock her fingers brushed. She winced. *A bad breakup.*
The water lapped against her legs, splashing icy droplets onto her body. She pressed forward. When she was knee deep, she reached into the water once again. Her breath caught. *The death of a mother.* She clutched her heart.
With tears in her eyes, she walked forward until she had to stand on tiptoes just to breathe. This was the place the truly desperate came. Here, they would decide whether to continue out to where the water submerged them or to give up the memory that had forced them here. In Sabrina’s case, she had only bad memories. If she were to give them up, then she would have nothing.
So she reached down. *A drunk driver who accidentally killed his girlfriend.* Her stomach knotted and vomit spewed up her throat. She clamped it shut and swallowed.
“Oh my god,” she whispered and dove into the water.
She swam into the murky black, headed straight for the floor. Her lungs ached, as if they had become brittle and were now cracking. She reached out to the lake floor to find one last memory before she died. Her fingers brushed a bundle of them and grabbed one.
*A girl whose best friend had killed herself in this very lake. And because of it, she had spent her entire childhood dumping every good memory she had into this lake, just for this moment. Just so she could save someone else’s best friend.*
Sabrina’s eyes widened and she saw Anna, her childhood friend smiling with the sun cascading down her long brown hair. It felt warm and familiar, because these were her memories.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 5+ stories a week! | Two children play in the creek by the old watermill. The bed is pretty dry, the water having been diverted towards the village proper before either child was born, but there's still a trickle. That's all they need, really.
The boy fills his hand with mud, a mischievous grin on his face. The girl isn't looking at him right now, too busy tracing shapes in the dirt. Her mistake. Soon, her pretty yellow dress, the one embroidered with flowers and clouds and rabbits is heavy with mud. Another girl might have cried. But the girl smiled politely.
And hurled a ball of mud right into the boy's face.
An epic battle of epic proportions. The boy's face scratched from an errant twig caught up in a projectile. The girl missing a shoe, a sacrifice to escape the onslaught. Soon, other children hear the commotion, flocking in from the woods and the road. Some run to gather friends.
By the end of the day, the creek bed is no longer; it is rutted and routed and ruined. But the boy and the girl will be back there tomorrow, and the next day, and the next - as long as there is a trickle.
It's quite the memory, really. Took a sizable stone for me to write it all down on - I remember struggling to keep it from rolling down the hill and into the lake before I could carve into it.
Why would I want to forget that memory? Look at it a different way. Claire remembers it - I don't need to. So why not share it with another? I've already got everything I've ever wanted from it - let someone else benefit from that happiness.
Ah, please excuse me. I have to go put this back where I found it now... unless, perhaps, you want it? | 2017-06-26T21:37:23 | 2017-06-26T21:00:22 | 42 | 16 |
[WP] Heaven and Hell do exist after death but you can choose in which you go. You jokingly choose Hell and when you arrive there, you hear Satan saying: "Finally someone! A friend!" | "Hello!" I yelled into the darkness surrounding me. My voice rattled off unseen walls; deep rumbling echoes built up into a dreadful cacophony that seemed to swallow me whole.
*Hello hellllo helllllll oh-oh-oh*
My skin became goose-pimpled and a shiver ran up my spine.
"Please - I was joking! Death, if you're there still, please. Please!"
*Please pleaaaa pllleaaad-d-d*
I could feel cold, rock wall to my right but nothing in any other direction. With no other option, I plunged into the darkness, always keeping the wall within reach. The ground beneath me was uneven and I had to step cautiously so as not to trip. As I walked, the stench of sulphur began to grow, soon intensifying and wrapping itself tightly around my throat. After a time, I sensed that the passageway was leading me downward: the wall itself began to twist and I knew I was corkscrewing deep into the earth. No, not the earth. I was somewhere else. But if it was Hell, why was it empty?
I don't know how long I crept along in that dreadful, unrelenting silence -- that blinding darkness -- but eventually a dim orange light became visible someway below; I almost wept with relief.
Gradually, as I descended towards the light, my surroundings became less dim and I could see I was on a wide staircase of sorts -- although a ramp might be more accurate, as there were no steps. I glanced down at my feet and to my surprise, I recognised the sight of the black-grey ground I stood upon. It was a type of igneous rock; the type that forms when lava cools and dies.
The ramp eventually led into a vast hollow carved out of black rock walls. It was much brighter in the room than the stairwell, although shadows danced menacingly on the walls. I saw first a great rock table in the center of the room, around which was a circular patch of white ground marked with the tell-tale black veins of marble. Around that, twelve skeletons rested against the chamber's walls, rusty chains around their necks bolting them to the rock behind. There were iron keys lying by each of their legs. Could they have freed themselves but chose not to?
I crept towards the table. On it lay the remains of a great skeleton, much larger than the others, its arms folded proudly across its chest. In its arms lay a long-sword, its blade a shimmering crystal-blue. The huge bones that must have once made up the creature's wings lay spread across the table's wide surface.
An object rested on the creature's skull -- *the light source*. It was almost blinding to gaze upon the chipped red teeth that made up the terrible crown. Each tooth shone like a fiercely burning ruby. *Like a flame.*
On the side of the table was carved an epitaph.
> Here lies the body of the Morning Star, bringer of light. The true son of God. Long did he protect his children from the Angel's lies. No longer he can. By his side rests his eternally loyal apostles.
> Here lies the body of the Morning Star. He awaits to be avenged; he awaits a friend.
I don't know how long I sat in that room, surrounded by death with my arms wrapped tightly around me. Hours, at least. Days, perhaps.
I don't know why I eventually got to my feet and removed the crown of teeth from the skull, and placed it on my head.
But I did.
And as skin around my shoulderblades ripped and bled to reveal the growths beneath; as the eye sockets of the twelve skulls around the table began to flame and smoulder; as I picked up the sword from the skeleton on the table, and saw in my mind's eye the death of God and the Angel's crimes -- I realised that everything was about to change.
| They gave me the option. Heaven, or Hell.
Being the dumbass I am, of course I answered with "Hell".
Rather, I meant to answer with "Hell, I don't know why you give that choice. Heaven, of course!". But they didn't hear the full thing. The second Hell had been spoken, they marked down my decision.
So here I was. Stood in the middle of an entry chamber of sorts. I have to say, hell looks a lot comfier than the old fire and brimstone stories everyone spouts. I mean, yeah, there are two rivers of lava running either side of the chamber, but the ground is actually covered in what looks like carpet and there are pictures painted on the walls. Grassy hillsides with the Sun rising, a forest with a river running through, and a winter scene.
There's a bench further down, with cushions to sit on, and a table with an empty glass and pitcher with a thin layer of water.
No flames. No pitchforks. No torture devices. At least, not yet. I suppose they *could* be in another area. But as first impressions go?
Hell wasn't too bad.
And it was quiet.
That might have something to do with the fact that a man, standing just beyond the bench, has frozen in shock staring at me - but still.
"No. Way." The man takes a hesitant step forward in my direction. "They finally set me someone! A friend!"
No more hesitation, he rushes forward until he is stood right in front of me with shining ruby eyes. "Welcome, Welcome, it's been such a long time since I've had company down there! I can't believe it. If I'd known someone would finally choose Hell - I'll have to tidy up a bit, clear the cobwebs and fix that lava leak, oh and I'll have to drag out the mattress from storage ..."
So apparently I'm the first dead person in Hell in millennia. And the Devil is a house proud creature in human form. And it's not as bad as people say.
Who knew? | 2022-11-26T20:28:16 | 2017-11-04T04:24:35 | 960 | 318 |
[WP] You are a well respected, elite assassin. You always get your target and you make it seem like an accident. The only problem is you have no idea what you are doing. You get the assignment and your target always seems to die of natural causes. | "I've had enough!" Williams yelled, slamming his fists onto his desk and rising to his feet.
"Boss, please. Take it easy. You know your blood pressure can't handle it." Calm and unshakable as always, Johnny Gun was a perfect foil to the boss' more...volatile moods. Even though he was a hitman, he sometimes felt like his job was more akin to that of a babysitter.
"They have disrespected us for the last time!" Williams got up and started pacing, which was always a bad thing. It meant that he was starting to think, and think crazy. Johnny Gun prayed it wasn't something like--
"I've got it! We'll just kill their Godfather!"
Like that, for instance.
**************
Five weeks later, a few countries away, Johnny Gun sat (nondescriptly, he hoped) outside a fancy hipster cafe. He hadn't been able to talk the Boss out of his insane, crazy idea; Williams hadn't seemed to understand that killing the leader of a powerful mafia was far, far more difficult than simply tossing a few bullets their way. Nevertheless, the Boss' word was law, and so Johnny Gun had set out to find someone who could do the job.
Honestly, there hadn't been much of a choice. The mafia in question was rich, powerful, and had their fingers in pretty much every nook and cranny of both the legal and black markets. The godfather, Jean Louis, was notoriously skilled in both fighting and manipulation. In the underground, they called him the Shadow King. No one had confronted him and lived to tell the tale.
However, there was an assassin who was equally as notorious. They had never failed a hit, no matter how difficult. The United States president? Done without so much as a blink. Half of England's royal family? Gone by the light of dawn. The executives of Interpol? Dead before the sun rose. High level operatives of the CIA? They never even stood a chance.
It was this assassin that Johnny Gun had been trying to find for the past few weeks, because if there was anything they did better than killing, it was hiding. It had taken over a month of constant searching and scrutiny before they had come up with a lead on where the assassin was.
So now Johnny Gun had been waiting idly for over two hours in front of this cafe, and this legendary killer had still not shown. If he was being honest, he was mildly giddy with excitement at the thought of meeting one of his heroes. Every contract killer in the world looked up to this assassin, and Johnny Gun was no different. Would they be tall? Muscular? Deadened, steel-bright eyes that could pierce your soul?
"Excuse me," a soft voice said. "You're the one who wanted to meet with me, right?"
Johnny Gun snapped out of his daze (bad form, Johnny!) and his eyes landed on a short, skinny teen with very large sunglasses in an oversized sweater. For a second, Johnny Gun thought it was a girl until he saw the facial structure and very prominent Adam's apple.
"You've got the wrong guy, kid," he rumbled. The boy shook his head, long hair swishing to cover his eyes.
"Uh, you wanted a tilapia catch from the Indian Sea, right?"
Johnny Gun's eyes widened. No way. Only the assassin would know that code. He had made sure of it.
"You--really? You?" The kid was scrawny! Johnny Gun's bicep was probably bigger than his entire torso.
"Yeah, it's me--look, can we just get down to business? I'm really busy; I've got like three projects and two tests next week and I'm just really stressed out, so..."
"Uh--" Johnny Gun was tempted to test him to make absolute sure he was the assassin he'd been searching for, but then he noticed that all three of his guns were no longer on his body and decided against it. "Here." He handed a dossier over to the boy, who immediately read it and nodded thoughtfully.
"Okay," he said. "Looks good."
"I'll buy you a coffee," Johnny Gun said. "As an extra treat." And also because he wanted to pick the boy's brains for killing methods.
*****
"So, how do you do it all? Take down all those high priority targets?" Johnny Gun asked eagerly as they sat in a (very) secluded area, sipping his drink with as much finesse as he could muster. The boy shifted his eyes away.
"I--ah--"
"Come on, just a little tip between friends."
"It's--it's not like that; you've got the wrong idea..."
"You've done so many high-level jobs--"
"Okay, thanks for the coffee, Ihavetogobye!" The boy rushed away, leaving his unfinished drink behind him. Johnny Gun furrowed his eyebrows. He hadn't finished asking.
Two days later, Jean Louis went skydiving. On his first jump, his parachute failed and he fell three kilometers from the air into a ravine. There weren't even enough bits left to make half a human.
"Amazing," Johnny Gun breathed. Countries away, the boy shivered. He hadn't even left his dorm.
| The body’s on the floor, mangled from a bad fall. Surrounding it are hundreds of empty bags of potato chips, like the dude stayed up all night munching them. Certainly looks like he forced himself into a heart attack—but I know he did, because he *always* does.
I plop onto a barstool, tapping my fingers against my knees as I take a deep breath. Last week he was a contractor, and now he’s a bartender. What next? I pull out my phone, the money’s already in my account, and even though I’m rich, I wish I wasn’t. Life would be so much easier if I never became an assassin.
Things used to be so…simple. Client pays me, I kill target. That was it. At one point, I was even the best in the business. Maybe everyone still thinks I am…
But this.
Standing up, I bend down, inspecting the body. One of the fingers is always bent toward a clue, and this one’s pointing into the backroom. I don’t know who this man is, or what exactly I did to piss him off. My guess is that I killed someone he loved, and he’s pissed off.
But how does he keep dying and coming back? Why is every client asking me to kill the same person?
I’ve asked myself this question a million times, but there’s no answer. Tonight I’ll go home and have another contract to kill him. For somebody seeking revenge, he sure seems to be enjoying this, almost like it’s a game. But dammit, it isn’t a game. Not since he took *her.*
Wandering into the backroom, I search the bottles of booze, batting cobwebs out the way as I try to find the small piece of paper. This has happened four times. First clue was that she’s trapped in a warehouse, second was that it’s big, third was that I’ve worked for the person who owns it, and fourth was that I kill innocent people. Three about location, one about the past. Something gives me a feeling this isn’t a game I’m gonna win, but rather a game he’s gonna draw out.
Turning a corner, I find a half-open safe covered in clawmarks. This must be where the clue is. When I pull the thing open, my eyes go wide, and I fall back onto my ass. This…it can’t…*no…*
A piece of paper’s taped to the wall, reading: *You’re not the best assassin, I am. I’ve been killing people for centuries, and you’ve become my newest victim. This is a cruel world, and you’re a cruel man. This isn’t about a grudge, it’s about making someone evil suffer. I said you kill innocents, and maybe I do too—but at least I do it to prove a point.*
And underneath it…
Covered in blood…
Is her finger, still donning our wedding ring.
My screams fill the room as I slam the safe shut.
***
This my go a little off-prompt, but this idea popped into my head the second I read it. Thanks for the great prompt! If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter) | 2018-10-08T23:31:17 | 2018-10-08T17:21:05 | 117 | 87 |
[WP] A death row inmate, hours before their scheduled execution, is offered a deal. | There was a soft hiss, air escaping a balloon. Shiloh felt her hands before he saw her, the shallow wisp of Miranda. She had come to him, the very vision of oil. She wore her hair black, braided tight against her angled skull. She was not beautiful, far from it. She had a small, sharp chin, too sharp to do more than than cut glass.
It was her eyes that stopped rooms, that tricked time out of its forward motion. It is how she entered this place, where Shiloh sat waiting for his death. Slipped in like the witch she was.
"Ello."
"That is all you have for me?" Miranda asked, softer this time. Last time they spoke she shot fire from her lips, words like starched hatred.
"Why are you here?" Shiloh asked. He had once looked down on her, waiting for her to leave his sight. She had loved him for as long as she had hated the world. She thought she owned him, that he would never escape her. She was part of the reason he was locked in her, she let him take the fall for her crimes.
"I have come to release you." Miranda produced a key. It was black, a *skeleton key.* Shiloh shook his head.
"I don't want that, Mira. I don't."
"I am going to give you the freedom you desire," Miranda said. Then she was gone in a thin trail of wind. She fluttered under the wooden door, out into the hall. He didn't hear screams, but the blood was pounding in his ears.
He had begged God for a way out. But this was not what he wanted. Never.
Miranda did not return for hours. When she did, it was only her eyes that he recognized.
XXX
Miranda came in a new form. This girl was young, fourteen, with hair like broken leaves. Miranda had picked well. She would be a beautiful woman, until the oil ruined her. Miranda could keep a body young for decades. It was only when she grew tired of the form that she let it age and die quickly, moving onto her original shape--thin, snake that she was.
This time she came with a companion. A boy-child, barely 15. The boy had amber eyes, hair like stones. Shiloh knew what was to come. He knew what the key meant. He gave the boy a small nod. He was sorry.
Miranda told the boy, Erich, to stand beside Shiloh. "I have permission from the guards to ask him about your brother."
Shiloh recognized the boy now. It had been three years. The boy had been screaming in a corner. Erich Leigh.
Shiloh had killed his father.
Now he would take the body of the son. | "Batman needs to die by monday."
Fuck sake. Batman??? Who the fuck do they think I am. But fuck it, what do I have to lose.
"Consider that motherfucker a corpse", honestly I had no idea how I was going to do this.
"Good. We will make the arrangement", the supervillain laughed like a supervillain.
"But why me? You are a supervillain, you have a better chance!"
"Not true! Batman has a plus 5 versus supervillains. When it comes to the wire a normal villain has a much better chance. He wont know your moves or anything."
"Hmmmmm", I pondered, "Perhaps this makes sense. I have a few super secret moves."
"Shhhhh. Don't tell me anything! Batman might find out."
"Ok!"
Two days later they released me and then I killed the fuck out of Batman. No joke. | 2015-06-23T20:40:11 | 2015-06-23T20:31:36 | 37 | 11 |
[WP] "Why do you call me stupid, Human?" "Because you came here alone, asking for our surrender while your armada is still 15 years out, and you brought us a prime example of your species technology, including fusion power and faster than light propulsion. You see where you messed up yet?" | The alien ambassador sitting across the table fell silent, a few moments went by as it stared forward motionless seemingly pondering what the human general had just said.
The aliens face began to rapidly turn a bright yellow as it immediately began taking in quick shallow breaths of air. Suddenly the attendants standing behind the ambassador began adopting the same strange behavior. All of them turning varying shades of yellow and breathing rapidly. One of the attendants had even doubled over cluching his abdomen from the apparent difficulty breathing.
The ambassador finally seemed to steady himself. He took a deep breath in and then loudly exclaimed.
"UNBELIEVABLE. I heard you apes were underdeveloped but this is just to much!"
The human general stole a brief glance back at his advisors behind him before quickly looking back to face the ambassador.
The alien continued
"By the stars above I'm truly at a loss for words. Your species gets your hands on a third generation fusion engine and an old warp drive with no Zeta shielding from one of our scout ships and now you are going to take on the whole armada? Well I suppose we've got no choice but to surrender seeing as we are so clearly outmatched."
The ambassador barely finished speaking before falling into another fit of what the humans now realized was laughter
The general jumped quickly to his feet and began shouting
"WE WILL NOT BE MADE A MOCKERY OF! IF YOU HAVE NO INTENTION TO NEGOTIATE THEN WE ARE DONE HERE!"
The human general quickly turned and began to make his way to the door.
"Wait!"
The Alien ambassador was now also on his feet
"Please, there is no need to be hasty. I apologize for my discourtesy. Allow me to make it up to you personally."
The human general paused for a moment then slowly turned back to face the ambassador.
"And how do you intend to do that?"
The ambassador glanced from side to side at his attendants before speaking
"Well since you humans are so interested in our technology I believe it would only be fitting to gift you the blueprints for one of our creations that is much more valuable than some simple ship parts."
The general perked up at this suggestion
"Oh, and what would that be?"
"It's truly a marvelous piece of tech. It's called a deodorizer, I'm sure you humans will get a great deal of benefit from it."
The ambassador immediately doubled over in laughter, an even brighter yellow hue spreading across his face.
The human general in contrast began to turn a dark vibrant red as he quickly stormed out of the meeting room causing the gathered aliens to erupt into even greater bouts of thunderous laughter. | I continued to scoff at the alien. "We've already reverse engineered your propulsion and fusion power. We've also adapted that fusion engine, not only into a propulsion device for our ships, but a weapon: both propulsion and destructive capability. We now have 10's of thousands of those weapons. How many is the fleet coming? Hundreds? Pretty sure our 10's of thousands of fusion weapons will be able to obliterate them. Also, how long until the second wave? 4-5 years? Pretty sure by then we'll have spacecraft and even better weapons. Perhaps you should show us how to communicate with them, lest on the back end we invade YOUR space. Now TALK." | 2021-03-26T04:03:20 | 2021-03-26T02:24:51 | 124 | 24 |
[WP] Every milestone a person reaches, life creates a checkpoint, and if he dies he revives at it with his memory intact, as you die, a mysterious entity approaches you and explains that you are being sent to your latest checkpoint. You then wake up wet, seeing blurry and hearing “it’s a boy” | *This is the biggest insult of my life*.
I thought as mother held me close to her chest. Her weak smile doesn't fade even when her heartbeat fell. Father cried out mother's name. She's gone. And I'm really too insulted to care.
*I mean, what the fuck does that thing mean with this?*
I thought as I scribbled on my drawing book, furious. Father look concerned that his five years old son start writing things such as, 'I'll show you, you goddamn prick!', and some other more unpleasant things. He made a note to meet a child therapist. *If only Melania is here*
*Does he really mean to say that my life is so boring, that the only milestone I had was being born?*
I thought, as I watched my high school teacher teaching me equations I already understood. Being the only eight years old in class is **boring**. I hate this place.
*Oh, damn. Just you wait, you damned entity!*
I thought as I stood before the hundreds of people, reading my college graduation speech. Being an eleven years old sucks when you had to stand in a podium. They all clapped before the 'genius whiz-kid'. I think I saw father cry.
*I'll get my revenge. See how far I'll go!*
I thought as I finished another assignment from NASA. It had been this way since they called me up a few months before graduation. Wake up, do your job, sleep, get promoted, wash, rinse, repeat. Now I am 17 years old.
*Well, hello again..*
I thought as I met the entity again. I was driving to my 23rd birthday when I got into accident. Well, at least my co-workers won't wait too much. I've done too much to start back at my birth. He told me that I went back to my latest checkpoint. I waited to wake up in my crushed car, or maybe a couple days before when they make me one of the leading researcher in NASA.
**No.**
I woke up wet, saw things blurry, and heard, "it's a boy."
*WHY? WHY'D I ENDED UP HERE AGAIN? HAVEN'T I DONE ENOUGH?*
I cried again in frustration. Mother held me close to her chest. Her weak smile doesn't fade even when her heartbeat fell. Father cried out mother's name. She's gone. And I'm really too insulted to **care.**
> The being stood on the corner silently. If only the man would realize that he is the one person who could choose what matters in his life. | Oh come on man! Really?! I was doing so well in the last run. I did that trick in the high school section where you can skip grades by memorizing tests. I even got laid on my first try god dammit! And in the college portion, I decided to go to the skilled trades route just so I can start earning money faster. Then I glitched my way through the working segment and become supervisor in my twenties. I was getting so close to getting the early retirement achievement, but no, I get killed in a construction accident because of fucking RNG!
...This is what I get for not saving. Oh well, it's happens to any speedrunner at some point I guess. let's reset the clock and start again. | 2018-03-18T09:20:25 | 2018-03-18T09:19:57 | 69 | 15 |
[WP] Pope Francis declares a holy war on ISIL, calling for a Tenth Crusade. | They descended on the village. From his birds-eye view in the chopper, the 32nd Division of Divinity looked like a writhing mass of ants, peaking the top of the hill and flooding down the other side. The first shot rang out, followed by the chatter of automatic gunfire. The ants began to fall, the front line melting and reforming as the wave of soldiers moved forward. The radio chattered in Francis' ear.
*...estimate 50,000 casualties at current closing rate...push 'em faster...*
For 20 minutes, the helicopter hovered over the scene, until every last soldier had moved out of the area and into the village. Then it landed atop the hill. Francis climbed out. He looked weary and haggard but his determination couldn't be denied. His generals refused to let him partake in the initial charge, yet they couldn't keep Francis entirely out of the battle.
He walked down the hillside. Screams of agony filled his ears. Medics rushed about, trying to save those who still had a chance. The ground was slick with blood and his white slippers were soon soaked in red. As he walked past the dying men and women, he murmured prayers. His expression was calm, belying his inner turmoil. *What have I done?* he thought. *How much misery have I caused? Is this the way, Lord?* But there was no answer from above. Francis trudged forward. Stray gunfire could still be heard, a single shot here, machine gun chatter there. Still, Francis trudged forward. At the foot of the hill, he was met by General Smith.
"Holiness, I respectfully ask again that you remain a safe distance until the battle is over. We may not even be able to secure this..."
Francis interrupted him. "Come with me, General. Let us survey the battlefield."
Smith gave a resigned nod. Francis led the way, marching towards the sound of gunfire. The streets were littered with his brave warriors, dead and dying. They rounded a corner and found themselves face to face with the enemy. In his hands was an AK-47, barrel still smoking. Francis never slowed his pace. His military training kicked in, training that he had helped devise. Instinctively, he threw his arms wide open and smiled.
"Jesus loves you. I love you. Jesus forgives you. I forgive you." A moment later, Smith's voice chimed in. The pair moved steadily forwards. "Jesus loves you. I love you. Jesus forgives you. I forgive you."
The AK-47 snapped upwards as the soldier rested it against his shoulder and took aim. His eyes were those of a tortured soul, a man who had seen horrific things.
"Please," he begged, "please stop! Do not come any closer! I've killed so many today. Dozens, maybe even hundreds. Women, children, old men...how could you send so many to die?" The man was carefully stepping backwards as Francis moved forwards.
"We will not fight you," said Francis. "But we will not surrender. Put down your gun. Jesus loves you. I love you. Jesus forg..."
"Please! I do not want to kill you!" the man interrupted, but the barrel of the gun was already lower, pointing at the ground now, and tears streamed down his face. He had stopped moving, standing in place, waiting for the inevitable.
"Then embrace us." Francis and Smith closed the distance with a few steps, holding their arms wide open. The rifle slowly slid from the man's grasp, clattering to the ground. Francis and Smith pulled the man closer, and the three men clung to each other, sobbing in relief and horror and joy, as men of war so often do. It was a costly way to wage a holy war, but it was the only way a true Christian could wage war and call it "holy".
| I prepped my troops. They were ready, I was ready. In a re-enactment of our ancestors, we wore knight's armor and were armed with swords of days of old. Thousands of us, spread across the land. I raised my sword and led the charge. We were charging toward Raqqa, ISIS' self proclaimed capital. Machine guns went off all around us. I threw my sword at an ISIS member, and reached down my leg for my two shotguns. Firing one after the other I shot down more than twenty people. When I went out of ammo, I prayed to the virgin Mary that I had packed more guns. Reaching out of my pack was my custom made sniper rifle with an ACOG scope in the shape of a cross.
Climbing up a ladder, I drew the cross over my chest and hunkered down. I fired shot after shot, bullet after bullet to protect my oncoming crusaders. We would defeat ISIS in the name of God. We destroyed all of their mortars. ISIS fell back. They spotted me, bullets whizzed past me, I shot at those shooting at me, I knew what I was doing was holy. It was the tenth crusade.
All of a sudden, a bullet hit me in the head and I floated up, I saw myself leave my body. Floating up, memories of my life ran through my head. Eventually I landed a top a cloud, and saw God, oh my was he beautiful. He cried. He was crying. I asked in a whisper, "God, why are you crying?"
"Because my son, people are killing in my name, they are killing in my name." God replied, tears streaming down his face. I cried too. I looked down and saw my last moments. I tried to reach out, but I couldn't. "My son, you know where you must go, you have killed, you have killed in my name."
I did know where I had to go. As I floated downwards. I knew I had earned this, but, children were coming for ISIS. And ISIS could not kill the second crusade of children. | 2016-07-27T09:20:32 | 2016-07-27T07:30:49 | 146 | 104 |
[WP] You are cursed to see people how they view themselves. You walk alongside monsters and Gods.
Can be third person instead of first.
Edit: I just thought of how EDs and other disorders like multiple personality would fit in with this, and now I'm kinda blown away. | "How do I look?"
I didn't know how to answer that question anymore. Going to the club with my best friend was an ordeal. She had always been insecure, terrified that an ounce of pudge would adhere itself to her midsection, balloon her into a gelatinous horror. And now, to me, that's what she was. A dripping, bulbous mass with a waistline that expanded exponentially when she accidentally saw her reflection, draped in a revealing top and short shorts.
I'd watched her recently, staring at herself in the mirror, until a flicker of her real self shown through: jagged hipbones, thighs thinner than knees, blue fingernails. There, and gone again, as she convinced herself that she was wrong, she was fat, she could never be thin.
-------------
"How do I look?"
My roommate, picking at a gaping hole in her cheek, sores that spread until they consumed her left eye, leaving her teeth exposed and glistening a dull yellow. I remembered that she had faint acne scars, easily concealed with minimal makeup. Maybe they had gotten worse. I could see the cartilage and bone peeking through where her nose used to be.
----------
"How do I look?"
My ex, before he was my ex. Brushing our teeth together, as a spider hung from his eyelashes, worms boring into his cheek. His arms riddled with holes, little black buds peeking through them. If I stared hard enough, I'd see them move, tiny maggot heads breathing and blinking. I couldn't look at him without gagging, and I couldn't think about him without weeping. I don't know why he saw himself like this, whether it was drugs, mental disease, something rotting his optic nerve. I told him he needed a therapist and walked away.
--------
I know why this is happening to me. I know that I was vain and snobbish, that I judged others as harshly as I judged myself. I dated for looks, I made friends based on how they'd affect my social status. And I watched as my friends and acquaintances morphed into Lovecraftian monsters, because I knew no-one with a healthy view of themselves.
I looked for a happy person. There is no one. Everyone hates something about themselves, and all they show me is that hate, that disgust, magnified and visible on their faces, their bodies.
I've gone to hedge wizards, gypsies draped in silk and cobwebs, ancient witch doctors who promised cures for anything that ailed an individual. I've walked into their offices, and seen the golden strings wrapped around their fingers, the snakes slithering in and out of their oil-slicked lips, and I knew they couldn't help me.
I will give myself one more month, and if I haven't found a solution, I'll blind myself. I just want to kiss my lovers and not see the writhing, maggoty mess behind their eyes. | Some people see themselves as Gods. I stay away from those folk as much as I can; they generally aren't worth getting to know.
Most people see themselves as monsters, with their flaws and regrets plastered on their faces and amplified beyond all logic. They may be hard to look at, but at the same time, I know that they have more depth to their personality. Whether they are good or bad, it's hard to tell, but I know that the ugly ones are the interesting folk.
But then there are the *others,* people who don't see themselves as human. Sure, you've got your internet otherkin, but those only appear as their imagined self, twisted or beautified all the same. No, the others I'm talking about are the beautiful monsters.
First, there are those that are hideously flawed, yet in a way that is also beautiful - they acknowledge their own flaws and love themselves regardless. Then, there are those who appear as actual monsters straight from fantasy, yet who also appear beautiful. Both are people who think they do not fit in society, who do not even think themselves human, and yet love themselves anyway. They are the people worth getting to know, for they won't judge you back. | 2016-09-16T19:58:14 | 2016-09-16T16:38:05 | 163 | 122 |
[WP] A professor stands in front of a class on the first day of term for “Time Travel 101” and explains why no one is allowed to go to Steven Hawking’s party. | Good afternoon, students, and welcome to Applied Temporal Mechanics, or Time Travel 101, as you may know it. Over the course of this term you will be introduced to the basic theories of transporting information and objects from the present to the past, as well as the linear history of the creation of time travel.
To wit, we shall begin with a discussion on the topic of fixed points in time. A fixed point is a moment or period of history intrinsic to the creation of time travel, and thus, cannot be affected by an outside force. Most of these points are dark spots in human history that any sane and compassionate person would want to change, and indeed, many tried and failed before we learned the reason why. Some examples would be the burning of the library at Alexandria, the Black Plague, World Wars One, Two, and Three, Stephen Hawking's Time Traveller Party, the Trump Presidency, and the Economic Collapse of 2068.
Ah, a question?
Well, most of these examples, while tragic, directly lead to specific individuals being inspired to take action or interest in something that contributed to the collective knowledge directly related to the method of time travel used today.
Yes, Hawking's party does seem like an odd thing, doesn't it? Surely if someone went, it would prove time travel was possible, and thus lead to its creation, right? But the equations we use today were first theorized by a fourteen year old girl who read about Hawking's party, and was determined to prove him wrong. Those equations were later finished by her grandson, who was inspired by his grandmother's passion.
Hmm? Oh, yes, that was actually the first destination we tried to visit; you wouldn't believe how many scientific discoveries were made out of spite. Tried at least a dozen times, but invariably, each individual sent through the Temportal was unable to attend. See, it's not that it's against the law to alter these moments - though it is illegal to tamper with other specific moments of time, but that's only briefly covered in this course, you'll have to take Temporal Law in your second year if you want to learn more - where was I?
Thank you. It's not illegal to alter a fixed moment, it's physically impossible. If you tried to go to Hawking's party, you would encounter a statistically improbable number of small coincidences and delays that will cause you to miss the party. If you're lucky; more than a few temporal researchers have met unfortunate ends during their travels. Other fixed points are a bit more risky to visit, and Twenty Fourth Century knowledge is no match for a spear in your back.
Well, it's very dangerous to take advanced technology with you; if it falls into the wrong hands, untold damage can be - and has been - done to the established timeline, but that's covered more in-depth in Alternate Histories and Parallel Timelines, and to a lesser extent in Temporal Law.
Research has shown someone actually tried that. There's a good deal of information regarding the incident in Alt His, but the short version is that someone did manage to go back with a fission bomb, and destroyed the entire city of Cambridge. This broke the chain of events that led to the creation of time travel, creating a paradox that resulted in that timeline fading from existence. I'm sure you're all aware of the Grandfather Paradox? This is a similar principle, but on a larger scale; you cannot use time travel to erase the existence of time travel, without erasing the entire timeline.
No, the Kremic Invasion is covered in Alt His; we won't be discussing it in this course.
Because research indicates we invented our own method of time travel several decades before the first ancient Kremic device was discovered; while the Temportal we use today does incorporate some of their technology, the math is all ours.
Because it's an offshoot timeline, and one of the main reasons we got temporal legislation and regulation in place as fast as we did; it's… not good to have too many branching timelines, and we can't let just anybody go mucking about with history.
I'm afraid I can't answer that question, no one in this room has the security clearance to hear it. Suffice it to say that too many parallel timelines can have dire consequences, and leave it at that. If you want to know more, you'll need a government contract and an NDA.
Let's move on to the linear history of time travel, and the very first fixed point; the discovery of fire. Urog was a skilled hunter, who never came back empty-handed, no matter the circumstances… | Professor Tempus stood in front of his class, dumbfounded at the question which his student had just asked. He had finished writing a dissertation on time travel after having perfected the machine that allowed for actual time traveling back and forward in time. The youngest genius in a lifetime and he was teaching in some university for funding on his new prototype. Granted, there was something special about teaching young minds about time travel, but they all seem to lack common sense and logic.
Picking at a scar on his arm, the fairly young professor look at the student before taking a swig of his coffee. Gosh, it was far too early to deal with these questions. Guess he asked for it, since he had welcomed questions, and they just went over the multiverse theory. He did NOT sign up for teaching students who did NOT having an ounce of common sense though.
"Look, uh..." Whoops, forgot his name.
"Robert," the student supplied hopefully. Though he had some smug aura to him, as if he caught the professor in some kind of trap.
"Robert. Right." Making a mental note to not call on him again in the near future, Professor Tempus turned to the chalkboard and started drawing a timeline.
"Say you go back in time. To attend this idiotic party of Hawking's. A party which he claimed nobody showed up. What did we learn in the multiverse theory?"
He was greeted with a chorus of "It doesn't work."
"Great!" he said brightly, happy his class learned something. "So knowing this, and that I can't exactly stop you or anyone else from going there, it's safe to say someone has gone there before, right?"
There was a buzz of confusion going on in the class before the professor slams his hand down in frustration.
"Quiet! This is extremely important! Yes, what is it?" he almost snarled in irritation at the girl who just raised her hand.
"But Hawkings said nobody showed up."
The response was easily, "He lied. You can't trust everything people say. Not even if they're in those history cubes of yours."
The professor stood in front of the class. "Time traveling is more than just memorizing notes and key terms. Like a science, you need to think and understand the field. That means understanding logic because key events cannot be changed. So what you do back in time cannot alter the course of time because it's already been pre-determined."
The professor looked more somber as he continued.
"My own mentor and I had planned to go to his party many years ago, but I escaped. But it was a trap. They got a lot of time travelers that day. Anything to keep the disruptions of normalcy in 21th century life at bay." | 2022-09-24T22:16:27 | 2022-09-24T22:00:28 | 67 | 39 |
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