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] As the Empire descends upon Earth despite the Federation's best efforts, the Galactic Council watches in horror; their invasion force will soon be wiped out, and when they are, the most violent species in the galaxy will have access to space age technology. | "If I've told you once, I've told you a million times. Do *not* make contact with Dirt. The inhabitants are... strange. They don't function on conventional logic. They care very little for life, even their own, and will wipe out any and all threats to their barbaric way of life."
Councilor Drargon wrung his hands together, and the slight scraping of the scales made sound reminiscent of claws on gravel. It was high pitched, squeaky, and just slightly grating on High General Abraxxus' nerves. Still, the decorated general tolerated it, and turned calmly to the worried politician.
"Then it is all the more reason to snuff them out." Abraxxus walked around the Councilor and laid a tentacle on the control board. It lit up at his touch, and a screen appeared. On it, several of their latest, most advanced warships descended on the primitive planet colloquially termed **Earth**. "Highest forbid these savages learn how to travel the stars. Can you imagine the untold casualties they would accrue? No, we wipe them out now, during their infancy. *That* is the best we can do."
Drargon made a noise. It came from deep in his throat, and Abraxxus knew from experience that the tinny whine meant exasperation. "And it is for *that* reason that we must not engage! You don't understand, Abraxxus. These barbarians-- these humans-- are not like the rest of the United Galactic Council. They didn't develop sentience, and then sophisticated forms of war. They do not fight for information, or evolution, or advancement. These creatures came into being from times of conflict, and evolved to form better ways of fighting. They learn, grow, and advance-- not for pursuit of better life and living-- but to find better ways with which to war with each other. Don't you see, Abraxxus? These creatures didn't invent war, they were invented *from* war. They are a people of strife and hardship, and they live for conflict. Whatever you think we have in advantage over these people, you are incorrect."
The General scoffed, and it was such an odd gesture to come from a being made almost entirely of gelatinous goo that even Drargon gave second notice. "You are too cautious, Councilor. We have the planet surrounded with over fifty battleships. We are capable of interplanetary transport and light speed. As far as we know, the creatures of Dirt can barely harness the power of an atom. What threat do they have against us?"
Drargon's eyes drooped, and his mouth curved inwards to a frown. He opened his mouth, but then closed it again, before shaking his head. "I see there is no convincing you. Is there?"
Abraxxus laughed, the sound an echoing and almost melodic thing. "We have them surrounded on a planet they do not yet know how to escaped. They are outgunned, outnumbered, and trapped. We have every military advantage!"
"Then I will leave you with this anecdote: a relic of the creatures you are invading. '*A cornered animal is the most dangerous*.' When you descend on the planet, your phasers blaring and blades gleaming, think of those words as they cut you down and dissect you in the ruins of your ships."
Drargon then turned, not waiting for the General's reply. When he reached the door, it slid open without prompting. He walked through, but before he left he turned.
"And when they strip your precious battleships of their parts and use what they've learned to extend their reaches to the stars, do keep in mind that it was *you* who doomed the rest of the galaxy to ruin."
The door slid shut silently with the Councilor's departure. Abraxxus watched as he left, then turned to the screen as his fleet descended onto the Planet Dirt. He knew, intellectually, that there was no way that his people would lose, and yet the Councilor's words still rattled around inside his brain.
A bad feeling overcame him, something deep and instinctual. It started as the first battleship fired upon the human cities, and didn't persist until even long after the first civilization crumbled.
He couldn't tell why, but for some reason he felt like he had made a huge mistake. | Diplomacy has failed. This newly discovered species had at first warned us. They had shown us the violence they are capable of, told us stories of the wars they fought amongst themselves over arbitrary imaginary lines scribbled on pictures of their planet. They entertain themselves with depictions of violence, and regularly discriminate against each other for having slight differences, they oppress one another and ravage the planet that sustains them.
Yet we tried to reason with them. We tried to be diplomatic, and yet the masses attacked our diplomats, rended their limbs and looted their ships. And from the loot they took, they learned and adapted. They built their own ships, and began to explore at first, and then began to build small colonies on nearby planets, destroying all that would impede their progress.
It was clear, we had to eradicate this stain on the universe. It was only a matter of time before they managed to reverse engineer the hyper light engines in the diplomats ships, we had to do something.
The invasion was swift and brutal. We destroyed their colonies, shot down any vehicles we could find in their solar system, and descended upon their planet. We targeted their main cities, and once we had successfully secured a base on their planet, we thought we had won. But this species was a lot more resourceful than we thought. They were a lot more cunning than we expected.
They had engineered bio weapons to target our glorblaxian anatomy specifically. They had developed weapons that could penetrate our armor. What had been a successful start to our invasion quickly turned into a bloodbath. Our soldiers were slaughtered with a ferocity we had never seen the likes of, and with brutality one would never expect to see from even the most deranged of animals. Within barely a single rotation around their resident star, we had gone from a successful invasion to a humiliating defeat. We issued the order to retreat, and quarantined the planet.
It's been 10 star cycles since then. They've stopped launching ships 5 cycles ago, and we assumed that they had accepted their fate as a quarantined planet. And then we saw it. They launched a ship, despite being crippled from war and genocide. Our energy based weapons were ineffective against the ship, and it eradicated our entire fleet within minutes. We thought we were exterminating them... Yet all we did was arm them.
This will be my final transmission log. The empire is in danger, and the federation must assist. The ship is preparing for a hyper light jump as we speak. We are going to ram the ship mid-jump. At the very least, our sacrifice will buy the empire some time. | 2019-10-01T22:49:55 | 2019-10-01T20:50:47 | 26 | 12 |
[WP] A world where people can store the adrenaline rush and aggressiveness of their anger for later use. Keep enough rage inside and you can, literally and figuratively, hulk out. Now, in your city there's a person who's never been visibly angry... | I've heard it said that a wise man fears three things. The first is a moonless night, and the unseen dangers it holds. The second is the sea in storm, for no man can withstand the awesome power of nature. The third, though, is the most terrifying of all.
________________________________________________
It had been a week since the funeral and Patrick was just finishing tidying up the house. Everything in place as she would've liked it. Organized. Clean. The apartment still smelled of her, of sandalwood perfume, of oil paints, of laughter. It had taken Patrick days to find that scent again, so long smothered by the stench of illness and putrid stink of fear. The illness that had taken his wife had been slow and cruel but Sarah had known these things before and smiled until the very end. She begged Patrick to find peace and happiness after she was gone. She hoped he would be able to move on, to forgive, to forget and when she passed, she had peace and hope in her heart. Whatever peace and hope Patrick once held, he lost that day and what he found waiting in its place was monstrous.
____________________________________________________________
At nearly sixty, Tony found walking to his car was getting more and more uncomfortable after one of his "physical therapy" sessions. His patient, fourteen year old Trisha, certainly hadn't seemed quite as energetic at the beginning of their meetings but now that he had worn down her defenses with some insistent rubbing, Tony was confident he'd seal the deal soon. The young ones, always so vulnerable and pliable in his strong hands. "It's not wrong," he'd tell them, and if they still said no, "Well then I'll just have to tell your parents, or maybe you'd like them to see these pictures!" That usually kept them...compliant. Tony smiled confidently to himself as he looked forward to Trisha's appointment and was so lost in pleasant thought he didn't see a man walking towards him from the other side of the parking lot. He definitely didn't see the man's hands, or the SAP gloves he was wearing. It wasn't until the man spoke that Tony was aware of him at all.
Patrick was less than a foot away when he whispered the last words Tony would ever hear..."Sarah forgave you for the things you did to her all those years ago. I have not."
Tony turned in confusion and fear when the first blow landed and shattered his jaw. Crumpling to the ground in shock, the next punch targeted his ribs and shattered 5, puncturing his lung. Tony began to drown in his own blood and as his vision grew dark, he could only look up in fear at the looming monster.
____________________________________________________________
I've heard it said that a wise man fears three things. The first is a moonless night, and the unseen dangers it holds. The second is the sea in storm, for no man can withstand the awesome power of nature.
The third is the anger of a patient man, for there is nothing more dangerous than fury that has become a friend.
Patrick had heard the stories for years. He listened as she wept, or screamed, or raged at the betrayal of the people who had harmed her as a child. He had held her in the dark when the nightmares became too much and he lifted her back into the light whenever she was tainted by the poison of her past. Patrick was calm and steadfast. He always told Sarah to let go, to seek peace, to live in the loving here and now. He never grew angry at her as he knew who the real monsters were. Patrick was furious... and very patient.
Edit: Fixed grammatical error. | "Is he ready?" The major asked.
*"What do you think? He's been storing that rage for 25 years. Nobody's more ready than he is.*
"He had damn better be. If this succeeds, it'll be a major coup. Possibly the biggest breakthrough in our field in...what, 50 years? Anyway, lets commence. BRING HIM OUT!"
The hangar door was opened. 5 soldiers escorted a calm looking man down the runway to where a streamlined, bullet shaped spacecraft was placed, and stopped near its back. An enormous crowd, and dignitaries from 150-odd countries were watching with bated breaths. It all happened very fast then.
One of the soldiers slapped the calm man. When he had barely recovered, another kicked him. Soon, all 5 were soundly beating him up. Suddenly they stopped and stepped away.
It was a scene to behold. The man was - to call him furious would be understatement - it seemed as if he would like nothing better than crush all the assembled people near the runway to pulp.
Instead, he turned. Years of training had been spent to inculcate only one instinct into the man - when you get angry, you lift and you throw. Lift and throw. Lift and throw...
So, in an amazing feat of strength that broke nearly 50 world records, the man lifted the spacecraft and threw it with all of his strength in the air - at an angle of 60 degrees. The throw was impressive, and the spacecraft vanished from view within a few seconds. The man calmed down, and collapsed. A medical team rushed towards him. This was punctuated by an intense silence - eventually broken by the metallic voice on the PA speakers.
"This is Mission Control. Wojtek-1 reports achievement of stable low earth orbit. Commencing climb to geosynchronous orbit..."
These few words caused an explosion of cheering in the assembled thousands. The major wiped his eyes and smiled
"Finally, Poland has into space." | 2016-03-16T10:59:07 | 2016-03-16T09:29:15 | 221 | 98 |
[WP] A priest returns home after a successful exorcism. His demon daughter is waiting for him there, angry that he removed her from someone’s body again. | Father Richardson paced furiously in the driveway. Wringing his hands, rubbing his rapidly balding head, tapping his hands to his chin in thought. Giving a slight glance to the front door. He was getting too old for this routine. Finally, he steadied his resolve and touched his chest in a cross formation, muttering a small prayer.
He walked to the front door, the humidity from inside showing like a summer heat haze at this distance. It was one of *these* tantrums, his least favorite. They always ruined his robes with sweat. Loosening his clerical collar, he took out his keys and opened the door. There she was, a slender fourteen year old sitting on the couch. She would've looked like his spitting image...if not for the curling horns and flicking tail. She gave him a glance, then made a haughty humph and looked away with her arms crossed.
"Lili, sweetie. If this is the cold shoulder I'll tell you again, it doesn't work when you're quite literally producing flame and heat." the father said meekly, waving to the living room she was sitting in. The paint was already peeling, and it felt like a sauna. He was worried she'd set the couch on fire at this rate. In an instant, the temperature polarized, turning the whole room to freezing temperatures.
"Ah, so we're going with hell freezing over then? Maybe I should get my coat." the father joked, heading to the closet nearby
"...WHY do you keep doing that Dad?! I don't *want* to be exorcised by you!" Lili finally snapped, slamming a fist into the brittle upholstery of the couch.
"Honey I've told you before, if I don't do it someone else will. And then you won't just be sent back here, you'll be sent to Hell, where you kind is from. I am sorry, but that isn't the right way to go about getting what you want." the father explained
"But that's where Mom is! I just...wanna see her. These recent powers, they're really confusing. Scary even. I just...I just wanna see her. It's been so long." Lili started tearing up and put her face in her hands. The temperature fluctuations finally stopped, and Father Richardson took the chance to get closer and take a seat next to her. He put an arm around her shoulder to comfort her.
"Oh sweetie, I know, I know. I miss your mother too. But it's hard being the second in command in Hell, she's been very very busy the last few years."
"She's *always* busy! I haven't seen her for like, 7 years! You think a mom could take a fricking holiday to help her now awakened demon daughter for Christ's sake! Oops, sorry daddy." Lili shot her head up, fully in tears as heat started to spew again. She politely covered her mouth after breaking one of her father's house rules, "no taking the name in vain" by accident.
"It's all right sweetie, I understand your frustration. I wish I could do more, I really do. Sadly all I know is getting rid of demons, not helping them...." after a few seconds of thought something came to him "...there is something I can try though. It'll probably cost me my ordainment, or worse, but it'll be worth it." he hurried to the closet again, pushing aside some clothes in the middle.
"What do you mean dad?" Lili asked, wiping her tears and following him
As she watched, her father slowly pushed all the clothes and junk in the closet to one side or the other, leaving the middle wide open. He opened a fuse box hatch, and flicked three very specific switches all at once. With a loud kerthunk, something underneath the carpeted floor of the closet unlocked and a compartment hung up. He lifted it, revealing a small dusty red metal box.
"We're going to summon your mother. She gave me this as an emergency measure if need ever arose." he hefted the old box out of the cavity, closing everything up behind him. He forgot how heavy this thing was! As he slammed it onto the kitchen table, he could feel the oaken wood underneath creak.
"THAT won't be necessary Peter." a voice echoed from nowhere. Suddenly, an intense flame erupted in front of them. The flame was nothing ordinary, Father Richardson knew it all too well from his line of work. This was hellfire. Nothing could extinguish it short of holy work itself. And to boot, it was certainly some of the strongest he'd felt. And yet...somehow familiar.
As the pillar of flame slowly snuffed out, a women's figure appeared within the smoke. The two of them finally caught a glimpse as the smoke cleared. Gossamer ebony hair, ageless pale white skin, and crimson red lipstick. Yellow irises with a tinge of white that, though unsettling at first, held nothing but love right now. The woman dusted the soot off her form fitting black business blazer and dress, daintily checking the rest of her outfit as her crimson heels clicked the tiled floor. Finally, she looked at the two of them before her with a sheepish smile.
"MOM!" Lili squealed in glee, rushing to hug her immediately. The woman coughed slightly at the sudden blow, and gave a kind laugh as she embraced her daughter.
"Hello my sweet cambion beauty. You've grown so much! And look at your demonic features, my goodness!" the woman said with a smile, pulling her daughter back to get a look and brushing her face gently
"It's good to see you Lilith. You look as radiant as ever." Peter piped up, stepping forward. Though his wife never aged, he certainly did. All he could think about was what she'd think of his bald spot and wrinkles.
"Radiant? For a demon lord? Same old sense of humor I see! Good to see you haven't changed either Petey." Lilith giggled, giving his shoulder a tight and loving squeeze with her free hand. He let out a small sigh of relief as she did.
"So how long are you staying Mom?" Lili asked quickly, expecting the worst
"Well, *at least* until we can get those new powers under control! Could take a few years...and after that, forever maybe?" Lilith slyly replied, a giddy smile escaping her lips
"WHAT?!" both Lili and Peter replied in equal parts shock and glee
"Heh, well I spoke to the big guy aaaaand he agreed to let me retire. He really appreciated my work over the last seven years, so he's taking a new lieutenant. He even offered me a nice retirement space in Hell, but I opted to come home to you two. For lord of the damned he's a surprisingly nice guy. Just consider it a late birthday present for ya kiddo." Lilith explained with a wink
"Ohmygosh YES! Oh mom this is the best! I missed you so much, and we can be a family again." Lili's smile gleamed with hope and pure teenage excitement. Her mother chuckled again and hugged her now speechless father, kissing his cheek on release. He felt a wave of warmth shoot through him, and instantly relaxed. He had missed her touch and kindness.
"So, how about we start with getting rid of those horns for now? Pretty hard to go to school with those poking out. And then you'll look just like your mother again." Lilith suggested, poking her daughter's horns coyly, then gesturing to her own blank forehead. Peter knew that fully realized demons could change their appearance at will, but the news that it was uncontrollable at first was definitely much more shocking than any first period stories he'd heard from other parents.
"YES PLEASE!" Lili agreed with a furious nod
"I'll make us some lunch." Peter said, heading to the fridge with the widest smile and fullest heart he'd had in years. | "This can't go on forever, Marcus. You can't let that thing live!"
"She isn't a thing, Cristopher. She is a girl, and my daughter"
"She is a damned demon!"
"She is a gift, from our lord and saviour"
"I am going to talk to the bishop. You can't lose your path like this"
"No, brother Cristopher. I have seen you become a true servant of God. I was, well... proud of you and your growth. Now please understand me. I'll save that child"
"Brother Marcus, please. Don't fall"
"I will not, for God is with me. And thankyou for tonight, your hwlp was really needed"
The two priests hugged, then parted ways. Marcus kept on his walk towards his house, or better, his small apartment. The fog of the city visible under the night lights. The warmth of his coat contrasting with the cold outside.
He climbed the three rampa of stairs and opened the door into his untidy, dusty, half destroyed house.
There was smell of smoke.
He rushed in, calling
"Lyla, Lyla! Where are you!"
An overexcited scream from the kitchen and a few quick footsteps later Layla was jumping around him, hugging and laughing with excitement and enthusiasm
"Daddy you are back!" "Daddy you look tired!" "Daddy what do we eat tonight?"
Marcus smiled, curled down and rolled on his back taking his little baby in his arms.
"Lyla, my dear! You made me worrying for i smelled something burn-"
He atood up again, leaving the child on the ground. His nose still filled with the smell of something. He reached the kitchen where, the Genesis was engulfed in flames.
"Nooooo!!"
He took the Book in hand and put it under the water. Lyla was in the doorstep.
"Lyla. What have you done?"
"I am sorry dad. I.. i just saw that boom and i.. i felt like burning it.. so. I did, i thought of it burning and it started doing so!"
"I see". He thought between himself "first the possessions, now the hate towards the Holy Writings. It's getting late."
He sat on the small chair. Exhausted. He was not strong as he used to be.
"Would you like some scrambled egg for dinner?"
"Hell yeah!"
He looked at her with a dark expression in his eyes.
"Sorry dad."
"Nah, it's nothing. Can you take 3 eggs and some parmesan while i start the fire?"
Her smile was enough.
----
"So. Why did you have to take Robin?"
"He offended Martha! She was crying in the bathroom!"
"You should've called the teacher, Mrs. Gordon"
"Robin is good at lying"
"I told you. You don't have to take people. Their body belongs to them"
"Woah woah woah, now their body belongs to them?"
Laughed a voice out from the window
A voice Marcus knew far too well.
He stood, his glance somber, his expression serious and disgusted and slowly turned.
"So they have found her " he thought by himself.
"Asmodeus! Come, have somw eggs!"
The dark haired was standing onto the emergency stairs. He entered from the window.
"Daddy, who is this person?"
"He is.. errgggh.. uncle Asmodeus, but we aren't really in good relation. Can you go to your bedroom? We have some discussions for adults here."
The little girl slowly walked out.
"So you. YOU are taking care of her. YOU!" Asmodeus started to laugh compulsively.
"The Marcus i knew would've blasted her head off in an instant and then he would've cauterized the scar with holy water. Goddammit you are old"
"Don't you dare, insignificant being. Worst of the worst, lower than worms"
"Now now we are a bit overexaggerating here. But anyway what was that thing about the body? Didn't ir belong to his majesty?"
"I'd expect you down there to keep yourselves updated. Everyone changes, i do. The Church does."
"Hypocricy. That's what i call it."
"Call it however you want. What do you want from me?" Marcus said, preparing his gun.
"Already to that? Anyway i'm not here to fight. I am here to take her where she belongs. With us."
"Then. You are here to fight" whispered Marxus in anger, blasting three shots out of his gun.
"Dammit" exclaimed Asmodeus dissolving into dark smoke and reappearing on near the door.
"The eggs were really good"
Two other bullets flew past his head after he dodged them quickly!
"Leave this house, unholy demon from the Gehenna."
"If you start an exorcism her you'll take her with me"
Asmodeus was right.
"Well. Then i'l just kick you out of my property instead!" The priest said, thrashing himself towards the demon that dissolved once again to let Marcus fall in the corridoor.
"Daddy! What's happening!" Lyla screamed coming out from her room. She crawled near Marcus body, crying.
"What have you done you!" She started levitating, her hair furiously agitated, her mouth distorted, her eyes empty. The lights in the whole building started to go crazy switching on and off continously ...
Asmodeus expression was a smile, an enthusiastic smile of who sees power and possibilities.
"I am fine, darling" grunted Marcus
She immediately calmed down, falling on her feet and running towards her father again.
"Can't you see?" Continued Asmodeus "she is already this strong."
That's one more reason to keep her with me. Besides, she is my daughter.
"But they will take her from you. At least with us she can stay ali-"
The door bursted open and three men covered in red robes broke in. One with a crucifix in one hand and a torch in the other one, and the other two woth two holy water rifles.
The three men shouted
"Nobody expects the spanish inquisition!"
Both Asmodeus and Marcus groaned
"Dammit" | 2020-10-20T10:23:23 | 2020-10-20T10:03:27 | 35 | 23 |
[WP] A newly-hired bartender is slowly realizing that he's working at the bar from all of those "X walks into a bar" jokes. | Joe didn't really mind his new job, except on Mondays. No, this isn't one of the typical "Mondays, right?" situations. Joe's new job tending bar was very much unique, but on only Monday. At some point today, something crazy will happen.
*Mad Monday,* Joe thought to himself as he flipped back the covers and tossed his legs over the edge of the bed. He got ready as he does every other work day, and arrived at work 5 minutes before his scheduled shift as usual. Mad Monday was actually starting to grow on Joe. He didn't know when, and he didn't know what it would be, but *something* weird would happen today. Today, it was just after 5pm.
Joe heard the door chime and greeted, "Hello, good afternoon." When he looked up, he had to try to hide his astonishment. There, walking in the door, was a man and his son. However, the son was in a wheelchair and did not have arms or legs, and not much of a torso, either. Joe blinked to make sure he was seeing things correctly. The man sat his son on a stool at the bar, then took a seat next to him.
"Two beers please." The dad said. "Oh, and can I get a straw for my son, too?"
"Of course, sir. Right away, sir." Joe's brain was working overtime trying to wrap around what was going on. This was different today. Usually it's the "long face" horse, or the "blind guy walks into a bar" jokes that he sees. What joke was this? Handicapped kid and his dad? "Let me know if you need anything else." Joe said as he served the two beers, then dropped a straw into the second one for the son. He tried to casually watch while he wiped the farther end of the bar.
The dad took a long swig of his own beer, then held the other for his son. His son chugged this beer faster than Joe has seen anyone knock back any before. Even before Joe could be astonished at that feat, something amazing happened. From nowhere, an arm popped out of the son's small torso. Joe gasped.
"Oh, my-- Barkeep, another beer!" The dad exclaimed. Joe quickly obliged, slamming another beer on the bar top. The son grabbed this beer and drank it down. *POOF*, out popped another arm. "ANOTHER!" the dad yelled. Joe already had another beer in his hand and quickly handed it to the son. This one went down even faster than the others. *POOF*, out popped a leg.
"This is amazing." Joe said.
"How is this even possible?" The dad was ecstatic, with tears gleaming in his eyes. "Please, another beer!"
Joe dropped another beer on the bar, and watched in anticipation as the son slammed it back. This time was different, though. After just a moment, nothing happened. Suddenly, the son fell over, dead. Joe's jaw gaped open. Then, it hit him.
"Sir, you should have stopped while he was a head." | The last bartender grinned as I signed the employment papers, then handed me a metal pipe with an odd scribbling on it.
"What's this?" I asked.
"When someone walks in you listen to their story, then make an observational comment on what they say or look like. After that? Hit 'em with this. It'll knock them right off the stool," he said.
Then he pranced out of the front door yelling, "I quit!"
This had to be a joke, I thought. I looked at every plaque, bottle, and furnishing. I'd seen them all before, like someone took every memory and image of a bar and compiled a living mosaic.
The last bartender stormed back in.
"I forgot something, sorry. What you're holding, we call that. It's so old, you probably can't read it, anyway, we gave it a nickname, because it looks like it hurts and it's pretty straight," he said as he walked forward.
"Well, what do we call it? Looks like a bar to me," I contemplated his instructions and did just as he said: I swung at his eyes. His facial features twisted around the metal pipe as he jerked away and landed face first on the floor. He looked up with a bloodied forehead.
"No, we call it the punchline." | 2015-05-14T16:24:59 | 2015-05-14T16:02:19 | 38 | 14 |
[WP] Write two small stories with the exact same words in the same order, but with punctuation giving them completely different meanings.
[deleted] | *The police officers close the door as they leave, and a heavy tension descends upon the two of us. We watch each other warily.*
“Did you kill her?” he asks.
“Did you?”
There is a long silence. “Yes.”
I say; “how could you?”
“She loved you more than me.” His eyes flash with anger.
“I was her husband!”
“Will you tell them?”
I glance at the door. “Yes. She deserves justice.”
“I hate you,” he says, pulling out a knife, still covered in Alice’s blood.
I stare at him. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure no one will ever know the truth. Alice deserved better than you,” he says, lunging with the knife.
I kill him, reluctantly. I pull out the blade from his chest, crying. I don’t condone killing. That’s what makes me human.
*“That’s how it happened?” the police officer asks.*
*“Word for word,” I tell him sweetly, flashing my most honest smile.*
*“Then it sounds like self-defence,” he mutters. “We’ll be in touch.”*
*I leave, barely refraining from whistling triumphantly, and instead play the last hour back in my mind, of how it really happened…*
“Did you kill her?” he asks. “Did you?”
There is a long silence. “Yes,” I say.
“How could you?”
“She loved you more than me.”
His eyes flash with anger. “I was her husband!”
“Will you tell them?” I glance at the door.
“Yes. She deserves justice. I hate you,” he says.
Pulling out a knife, still covered in Alice’s blood, I stare at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure no one will ever know the truth.”
“Alice deserved better than you,” he says.
Lunging with the knife, I kill him. Reluctantly, I pull out the blade from his chest.
Crying; I don’t condone.
Killing; that’s what makes me human.
|
I am without want. I hunger no more. Is life to come to an end? Days fade into nights. The sun sets on this day. The moon rises in the sky.
I am. Without want, I hunger. No more is life. To come to an end, days fade into nights. The sun sets. On this day, the moon rises in the sky. | 2015-09-23T16:48:26 | 2015-09-23T13:53:35 | 35 | 10 |
[WP] You had a high school friend who always talked about world domination. At graduation you jokingly make them promise you to give you the rank of a general. 20 years later a series of violent coups happen out of nowhere and the new dictator appoints you as a general. | It was hard to stomach at first...
That our Nation could fall to a dictator.
Drought, famine, and the eventual wars for resources all saw to our fall from grace. Eventually as these things tend to go, an organization rose to power, promising to "fix" everything. The People rallied to their cause and in a swift "exchange of power" - one in which men with guns swarmed the capital - this upstart organization with an over-zealous leader had claimed total control of all areas of our government and total control over our nation.
Odder still was who led them... a younger man President Zeb Orellion. After his party had taken control, a series of unfortunate accidents occured which led to the early demise of several high ranking cabinet members, the result being that Zeb went from legendary freedom fighter on the streets - to the leader of our Nation.
Odder still was that I sat next to him in freshman math class 35 years ago.
Since his reign began, there have been a number of herd cullings so to speak. Zeb appears on TV and reads a list of names of "enemies" and those people disappear. Many have been former military leaders, politicians, spiritual leaders....The usual ilk rounded up in these movements. Somehow, as both a former Major in the Army, and a known holy man - I had been spared.
And while Religion has been outlawed, and I keep my faith to myself these days, it is no secret I am keeper of the Faith.
That was until tonight.
"My fellow patriots, your nation needs you"
Zebs voice sounded across every display in the Nation
"A true patriot needs to be found and brought to me..."
This is new, he usually tells us why this person needs to be removed.
"A true man of faith, faith in his god and in our beloved Home, one who can push us to salvation"
I look around as people murmur, maybe this means an end to the religious prosecution and we keepers can resume our duties.
"Major Dax Averoos must be brought before me"
As I hear the words spoken my heart stops, but before I can react, I feel the blow of a glass bottle on my head and the world goes dark.
"Dax, Dax ah there you are!"
I awake to find myself laying in a hospital bed, with President Zeb sitting across from me
"We werent sure you were going to make it" he said, "in hindsight announcing your name the same way we had announced the many traitors to our cause was a mistake, but you are alive and we are together at last!"
As the words set in, I find myself in a bewilderment - what could he want with me? "I am sorry Mr President, I am unsure what you could need with me? I am willing to help in anyway of course, but I am in a bit of a haze." I sputter out
"Ah always so humble Dax, just as I remember you... you see despite your religious affilitations, and the fact you openly fought against us in the war, I, at the end of it all, am a man of my word"
"....Mr President?" He had me dead to rights, on both accounts. My death is as guaranteed as it could be - but id be amazed if he visited each man he killed at fhe hospital first
"When we met in Freshman math 35 years I made you a promise - when I ruled the Nation, you would be amongst my cabinet! And as it stands, I am in need of a General.... a General of the Faith - a way to bridge the gap with your fellow religious fanatics who cause me much grief. I am willing to allow your heretical brothers to live, so long as you can bring them into my umbrella, and eradicate those who cant see the way.... so Dax what says you?"
I ponder his thoughts a moment. One of the key teachings of the Faith is that when it presents itself to you, you are bound to take the opportunity....however sitting across from me is a mass murderer acting on his teenage dreams and memories.
"Mr President.... I would be honored to join your cabinet."
I can do much with the faith in this capacity
And At the end of the day, its better to live on your knees than die with a black bag over your head. | I remember that day, clear as water. Calum had promised that once he had dominated the world, he'd appoint *me* general. We of course, laughed it off, knowing that stuff would never happen. But here I am.
I've been watching the news, checking in every 5 minutes to see what's happening, when suddenly there's a sharp rap on the door. I'm frozen where I sit. Have they come to take me like they have so many others? I've seen and read that it's completely unknown what happens to those people. A pang of fear settles itself into my stomach. With shaky hands, I open the door. It's Calum. Older. Thinner. Smiling pleasantly.
"Why hello there, Rebecca." He says breezily. "Remember back in high school?"
I stare in disbelief, having not connected the dots. I stammer out "W-what? Huh? What is this?". I've only just noticed that he has a firm line of soldiers behind him.
"Highschool." Calum repeats. "I always keep my promises. In our new world, you'll be my general. Making executive decisions, by my side."
I stare at him uncomprehendingly, only to realize that he was the man on the news. The one who's been taking over governments, destroying entire countries...
"You see, they've been villainizing me quite terribly. Of course, I'm simply trying to tear down the governments, which are incredibly corrupt, and replace them with one that will create a happy utopia for all." He says matter of factly. I'm not quite convinced, which he seems to see.
"You'll be second in command! Control, power, money, and more than that, you'll be able to spread peace and happiness."
After a little bit of back and forth I'm reasonably convinced that he really *is* a nice person trying to help out.
"Why me, though?" I ask as my final question.
"Well. From what I gleaned from our time at school together, you have a great mind. Intuitive, persuasive, strong-willed, and many more things. And, like I said, I always keep my promises." At the last bit his mouth quirks into a little smile.
"Well. I-I will join then. I'll be your general."
His face lights up. "Excellent! This way, now.", and the soldiers march us away. I feel I made the right choice. Now as general, I feel fulfilled, and my family is more than comfortable now that I'm general making over six figures.
I figure it's better to stay on the winner's side anyway. He's more than halfway through the world at this point. It is, as he said, better. Calum always keeps his promises. | 2022-10-29T18:24:04 | 2022-10-29T18:00:38 | 250 | 63 |
[WP] In most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war. | When humanity first entered the galactic senate, most of the representatives were shocked by how interplanetary politics operated here. It was almost indistinguishable humanity's petty bickering, only slightly more performative and ostentatious.
Eric, as humanity's first ambassador in the senate, arrived at Lartuen with the hope of making the best impression possible for his people. This planet orbited a binary system in a central location of the Milky Way, easily accessible by every species in the senate through a relay network that allowed faster-than-light travel. Humanity required access to these relays if they wanted to thrive. It would take years of careful diplomacy to achieve this, but it was better than stagnating in their small corner of the galaxy.
The facilities in Lartuen were like an exotic resort, built to accommodate the many diverse body-types of the senate members. Its main building was so big it could be spotted upon entering the planet's atmosphere. Pools, spas, and other unrecognizable activities had been offered to Eric after he landed. Although he was treated politely, the ambassador noticed the stares he received from a myriad of aliens upon entering the main lobby. Some didn't even have eyes and he still felt watched by them.
A fancy dinner was scheduled for later in the evening to welcome every ambassador. Eric wore his best suit despite the fact that no one here would notice that. He was seated between a Thimayh and a Jha'nee, two species that had been quarreling for centuries.
Eric sunk into his chair. Whoever organized the seating arrangements did a horrible job with their research. One wrong word on his part could easily end with either species getting mad at humanity. As the night progressed, Eric started to wonder if that was the plan all along. The Thimayh kept talking over everyone at the table while the Jha'nee made passive-aggressive comments under their breath. Maybe this was a test for humanity to see how they handled conflict. That complicated things, though. It meant that inaction could be just as detrimental as saying the wrong thing.
The Thimayh eventually started bragging about his people's military might. Apparently, they had the biggest starship in the known universe, capable of bringing an entire solar system to its knees.
The Jha'nee scoffed. She mentioned that their engines were so advanced, an entire field of physics was created by the rest of the galaxy to properly study them. Their strongest weapon channeled the energy of three stars to destroy targets before they even reached a solar system.
Eric swallowed. Humanity just had nukes. These civilizations were on a whole different level than them.
The Thimayh raised his voice, boasting about their superior ability for tactical warfare. They didn't need mathematical models to crush their opponents. Their giant fleets were enough to put anyone in their place.
The Jha'nee frowned. "I don't recall our people ever losing a battle to yours."
The Thimayh turned his head at her. "Because you're smart enough to know better than to provoke us."
"No," the Jha'nee stood up, "we're smart enough to know we don't need to prove anything to brutes."
The Thimayh shrugged. "Keep telling yourself that."
Eric made himself as small as possible.
Unfortunately, the Thimayh noticed that and said:
"You, human, do your people know anything about war?"
Eric nodded a bit. "We're familiar with it, but we had to abandon those ways in order to reach the stars."
The Thimayh chortled. "What are you, wimps?"
"I wouldn't put it that way..."
The Jha'nee tilted her head. "But how do you judge who's right or wrong?"
Eric squinted, confused. "By talking?"
The Thimayh leaned closer. "That doesn't make any sense. You can't determine who's stronger through words only; you need to show it!"
"We call that 'might makes right'. That way of thinking almost led us down a path of ruin."
The Jha'nee only seemed more confused. She looked at the Thimayh and said:
"Maybe they're just too dumb to see their lunacy."
The Thimayh nodded. "Agreed. They seem to confuse weakness with strength."
Eric raised an eyebrow. "We're just not barbarians."
The Jha'nee scowled. "This senate was built to manage our wars and you, a barely developed species, dare look down on it?"
The Thimayh growled. "I think that's what they're doing. Humanity seems to think they don't need a senate to maintain peace."
"W-wait, that's not at all what-"
"You just said your people abandoned war" said the Jha'nee. "Why do you need to join then?"
"Well, we want access to the relays so-"
"So you think you're entitled to them?" The Thimayh had deepened his voice with an underlying warning. "Why would we ever give you anything if we know you will never go to war?"
"Perhaps the senate was too lenient by inviting them." The Jha'nee smirked. "I find it insulting to share the same table as a human. Even more than a Thimayh."
"I actually agree. Perhaps all we needed was a common enemy to get along."
Eric widened his eyes at a loss for words.
"Yes," said the Jha'nee, "this could be a chance to show the rest of the galaxy our mutual might."
"Screw you!" shouted Eric. "We're not gonna humor anyone who doesn't treat us as equals."
The dinner ended there. Almost everyone at the table stared at his outburst. Eric left the planet before the night ended. His mission was a complete failure. By the time he returned to the Federation's main headquarters, both the Thimayh and the Jha'nee had declared war on them. His superiors considered jailing him for this mishap, but they didn't have time to organize a proper trial.
Eric feared that humanity had lost its ability to wage war, but that was quickly dismissed after seeing their response. It was the first time in a millennium that humanity prepared for a large-scale conflict. Entire planets were re-purposed for manufacturing weapons. Spy networks were mobilized as fast as possible. Armies were deployed to the most vulnerable locations in their territory. The first confrontation occurred a month after the event.
Thousands of ships, from both the Thimayh and Jha'nee, gathered in a remote sector while their forces mounted. They needed one more day to launch their assault. To their dismay, the Federation already knew about their location. They never bothered checking for spies. Initially, this preemptive strike was considered humanity's last stand. The alien ships were gigantic, too advanced to defeat head-on. Most of the top brass expected, at best, a Pyrrhic victory. What followed was the most one-sided battle in the history of humanity.
The alien ships couldn't respond in time. They required too much energy to start their engines on short notice. It didn't take long for them to begin their retreat.
That didn't mean humanity won, though. The Jha'nee still had their super-weapon ready to fire, far away from that sector. They were only retreating to avoid destroying their own ships.
Of course, the weapon never fired.
A small squadron of saboteurs had blown up their operating station with a nuke. Humanity only needed to split an atom to defeat the strength of three stars.
The Thimayh and Jha'nee sent envoys immediately, asking what the hell was wrong with humans. That wasn't war; that was savagery. If they didn't have the guts to fight fair, they weren't worthy of entering the senate. The two races demanded an instant ceasefire out of outrage.
The federation didn't listen. It became clear that they didn't need the galactic senate. Humanity could take the relays by itself.
----
>If you enjoyed this, you can check out all of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | My little strike team and I tried not to laugh at how absolutely ridiculous the alien battleship in front of us looked as it slowly floated closer towards Earth’s orbit.
“So, this is the warship that destroyed those human colonies on Mars...” I thought out loud as I stared at this ridiculous hunk of bright yellow metal with all sorts of colorful structures sticking out of it. It looked like something that a child would draw up from their imagination, except it was very real, and full of aliens who were ready to invade Earth.
“Commander, are those things on its deck supposed to be cannons...?” My co-pilot pointed at a large coiled tube sticking out of the ship’s deck. “Also, why is it yellow? What kind of idiot paints a warship yellow?”
“That’s a great question, McBride...” I chuckled a little. “Alright, guys, let’s compose ourselves,” I spoke into my helmet radio, “I know that thing looks hella wacky, but it’s still big enough to wipe out an area the size of Los Angeles, so let’s go and blow it up before the boomers in the Pentagon start panicking. Dixie, I want you to buzz the bridge and try to wipe out the alien commander. Angel, I want you to bomb the shit outta the weird red pipes on the underside of this ship. I’m fairly certain those are supposed to be fuel lines. Sakura, I want you to use your fighter’s anti personnel cannons on any aliens with guns lounging on the main deck,” I gave orders to all of my teammates.
“I can take care of the captain for ya, but I don’t know which structure on the ship that’d be...” Dixie replied, confused.
“I think the bridge is the bright pink lollipop-looking thing in the middle of the deck,” I told him.
“Oh, I gotcha,” he laughed.
“Does anyone else have any other questions before we go?” I asked the rest of my squad.
“I’m all good here, commander,” Angel spoke up.
“As am I. Shall we proceed with the attack?” Sakura asked me.
“Yes, we shall. Good luck, guys. I’ve been told that the rate of fire on this thing’s defenses is super slow, but, like, try not to die anyway.”
“Let’s git ‘er done, y’all!!” I heard Dixie holler over the radio as he turned on the jets of his fighter and flew straight towards the bridge.
“Look at him go,” McBride was just as in awe as I was. “Let’s go, commander. I don’t want him to steal all our kills.”
“Man the guns, McBride. I’ll get us close to the main deck,” I told my co-pilot as I began our first attack run. I could see the aliens that looked suspiciously like medieval knights below us start screaming and breaking their linear formations as McBride and I started mowing down them by the dozens from our fighter. Their ridiculously complicated weapons were far too slow to properly defend against my team’s fast and relentless attacks.
“Commander, the bridge is comin’ down! You needa pull up before it falls on ya!” Dixie called out over the radio as I watched the lollipop-shaped structure to my left start to collapse in on itself. I quickly maneuvered my fighter to safety just in the nick of time as the remains of the bridge exploded behind my fighter in a spectacular green fireball.
“LET’S GO, BABY!!” I fist-pumped as I watched the rest of the ship start to break in half after the main deck had been bombed to hell by Sakura and I.
“Commander, I am pulling out! There is not much more left to destroy!” Sakura informed me over the radio. “We did a great job, did we not?!”
“Hell yeah, we did! I really gotta thank your officers in Japan for letting you join us when we get back to Earth!” I flew up alongside her, giving her a thumbs-up. I could see her smile and blush a little under her helmet.
“Fuel lines are down, commander. I think we can leave now,” Angel calmly spoke up as she joined up with me on my left side as we all saw the giant warship explode into little metal bits one last time.
“We got ‘em real good, commander!” Dixie laughed as he joined the formation.
“We sure as hell did, Dixie. I‘ll definitely be buying drinks for you all once we get back to Fort Freedom,” I grinned as my squad turned our fighters back towards our base on Earth.
Once we got back to our home base on the east coast of the continental US, I was quickly summoned to a meeting in the White House with the President of the United States, and the head of the US Space Force.
“Commander Storm, you’ve just saved the world,” the President greeted me with a smile as I entered the Oval Office. “You’ve done the whole planet a huge service, the biggest service I’ve ever seen.”
“Mister President, if I may ask, what do you mean?” I asked him, sitting in front of his desk.
“The huge warship you destroyed contained the entire military of the Trandalian race,” the Space Force chief explained to me.
“No, really? Their *entire* military?” I had to ask.
“Yes, their entire military. Apparently, the Trandalians follow a philosophy where intimidation alone is used as a weapon,” he replied.
“Wow, what a stupid philosophy. Don’t they know that’s not how war works?” The president spoke up. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was thinking the same thing.
“Maybe to us, but to be fair, we are dealing with aliens. Either way, it doesn’t matter anymore, since the commander here wiped them all out,” the chief looked at me. “You and your team are heroes, kid. Let them know that you and them will be receiving medals soon.”
“Of course, sir. Thank you,” I replied. “May I go and tell them now?”
“Sure you can. Go and celebrate your victory,” the president gave me permission to go. “Humanity will remember what you’ve done. Or, at the very least, America will.”
“Thank you, Mister President.” I grinned as I left his office. | 2020-03-21T09:59:45 | 2020-03-21T09:57:35 | 133 | 18 |
[WP] You are a professional pickpocket. You've just picked someones pocket only to discover that the thing you have stolen is truly horrifying. | I hurried through the crowd, weaving my path away from the man whose pocket had just found its contents transferred to my possession. I know it sounds like a fancy way to say pickpocket, but I don't like to think of what I do as such a juvenile thing. It's really more of a Robin Hood type thing. Find a white-collar type, procure the content of his pocket, phone, wallet, and all, and then look over the contents once I'm safe. After that I may donate the cash, if any to Charity. And then if there are any credit cards, I'll run them online as donations to the American Red Cross. I like to think that many see the charge and decide to just let it go.
If there are IDs, I'll always make sure to drop them in non-suspicious places, such as outside of restaurants with no cameras. I'm not trying to ruin anyone's life. I'm just doing my part to restore balance when the craving to steal gets to be too much.
I took my keys out as I approached my apartment building, did a quick scan of the area to make sure I wasn't being followed, and enter my building. As soon as I ran up the stairs and was in my apartment, I emptied the small bag from my pocket that I had so skillfully procured. I stared down at the contents, but my mind wasn't comprehending what I was seeing. I blinked and looked away, my lungs fluttering in quick, shallow breaths. I couldn't comprehend what had been in that man's pocket- in MY pocket!
I walked to the kitchen, washed my hands, and went to the liquor cabinet. I grabbed the bottle of whiskey and a tumbler. My hands felt cold and numb. I struggled to force myself to take even, deep breaths. "In my nose, out my mouth," I inwardly chanted, just like my father would tell me when I was young. I put ice in the tumbler and poured the whiskey. I washed my hands again and threw the tumbler back, the whiskey burning its way down my throat.
As the last of the whiskey had gone my throat I put the tumbler down on the counter, and I turned back around to face the horror on my kitchen table.
Human hair had been woven together, like many braids that were all interwoven. They formed a square shape that folded in over itself, only it was shaped like a wallet. There were spackles of blood all over the hair, staining it.
And then there were the bows. Like the tiny butterfly plastic clips that little girls wore. The acrid taste of bile rose up my throat, and I fought the urge to gag. The hair was attached to skin. This was a little girl's scalp, fashioned into a wallet. I forced myself to put on the big, rubber gloves under the skin and slowly, carefully, picked up the "wallet" and flipped it open with a thumb.
There was no stopping the wretching this time. I dropped the wallet, and vomited into the sink, barely making it in time.
I puked again, and I knew I had to call the cops. I would be turning myself in for pickpocketing, but somehow, I think they would be able to over look it. I looked back at the open wallet, the skin that ran over the inside had been dried and restitched, but the features of a little girl's face, the skin tanned and dried, was unmistakable.
And the ID stuffed in.... In what had been the girl's mouth, all drawn tight with black cord. It belonged to a teacher. My 1st grade teacher. And the girl.... My breathing was too fast. I reached for the phone, and the world went black.
EDIT: grammar and spelling. Also, CCW | He looks well off. Brown overcoat, black leather shoes, combed hair, and square glasses with silver frames. The crowd is flowing around us, but I see only him. There’s a hook between my knuckles. I flow behind him, matching his pace, moving with him, and the crowd. The hook swings into his pocket. I give it a light tug and it catches something. A little more and a plastic envelope starts to peek out. Wonder what’s inside. It falls from his pocket and dangles from the line and I wrap the tether around my wrist and pull it in. He doesn’t feel a thing, just keeps walking. I turn and head in the opposite direction. The envelopes secured with some sort of adhesive. It doesn’t take long to peel the top off. There’s a vial inside, I take it out and throw the envelope away. I hold it up to the light from the street lamp. The liquid inside is a pale translucent blue. I wrap my hand around it and keep walking. There’s a drunk just a little ahead of me, leaning too far when he walks. I get near and he bumps my hand. The vial cracks and cuts me a bit, spilling the liquid into the cut. It burns, and I drop the vial. The skin around my hand starts to blister. The cut turns yellow and swells outward. I close my hand, put it in my pocket and start running. People moving around me, both directions. I have to get out, I have to leave, but I don’t have time. I wretch into the crowd, most of it hits a blond lady. A bit of the spray peppers the people around her. She shakes her hands in the air and screams. I run past her, then my legs give. I fall to my knees. Everything starts spinning, the skin on her face starts blistering and she screams louder. I fall back into darkness. | 2014-07-14T22:56:32 | 2014-07-14T22:50:55 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] You're a super villain therapist. You try and break them of bad habbits like monologuing and other idiotic activities. | “Come in,” Dr. Live said, quickly pushing his fake glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He had a new patient today and felt the need to at least appear professional, regardless of the clandestine nature of his clientele.
​
“So you must be,” Dr. Live skimmed his hastily scrawled schedule, “Mr. E. Villain.” Dr. Live looked dubiously at the name, concerned he had read aloud one of the nicknames he had given to his patients. He was just thankful he hadn’t called this guy Luna Tick.
​
“Yes, that’s me.” Mr. E. Villain said sheepishly, laying down on the sofa. Dr. Live noticed he clearly felt out of place.
​
“Great. Great. I’m Dr. Live, and my notes say here saying that you have a problem with monologuing?”
​
“That’s correct, I think it’s been a problem since-”
​
“Well, let me tell you,” Dr. Live said, so viciously cutting off his patient it had the human-skull armor clad monster in his office taken aback,
​
“You wouldn’t believe the amount of patients that come in here with the exact same problem. Honestly, I don’t understand those types of people. It’s like they are physically incapable of empathizing with another human being, I find it truly remarkable that someone could hold an entire conversation hostage like it’s a bank or something. Despicable. That’s what I think of monologuing, did you know it’s responsible for over 75% of villain deaths? Typically a hero will burst in about halfway through the tiresome speech and savagely kill the villain who’s just doing his gosh darn job--,”
​
Dr. Live and Mr. E. Villain look nervously at the office door.
​
“Anyway, I’ve taken it upon myself to help super villains everywhere, no matter how insignificant, no offense, break this accursed habit known as monologuing,”
​
Dr. Live stands on his desk, “and so help me God!” he shouts, “I will end this blight once and for all and create a paradise with appropriately paced out conversations!”
​
Dr. Live looks down at his patient, “So, get it yet?”
​
“Oh, yeah, I feel like a dick right now,” Mr. E. Villain said, “I’ve gotta say that was some demonically inspired therapy Dr. Live.”
​
“Well, I always say, ‘Live is just Evil backwards.’” | "Look, Dr. Deathknell, I know you like to monologue and I know you like to tell them your evil plan, but all that does is buy the hero more time. What do you think?"
"I can't help myself. I feel as if I am going to win every time, I just simply cannot help myself. But... you're right. Who cares what my plan is? They don't care."
"Next time you capture Captain Smiles, I want you to try to deal with him immediately, okay? Don't wait for him to wake up. Don't monologue, and don't explain anything. Be more efficient. Apply all those skills you've honed over the years. Remember what I told you last week?"
"I need to apply myself to my work. Yes. I remember."
"Good. Remember. You do always say in your monologues that you are the greatest villain of all time. Take that optimism to heart. I know you can do it, okay?"
"Yessir, Mr. Deathmask. I'll do my best."
"Good. Now let's start planning our next move." | 2020-04-24T13:45:31 | 2020-04-24T13:07:23 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] Following World War III, all the nations of the world agree to 50 years of strict isolation from one another in order to prevent additional conflicts. 50 years later, the United States comes out of exile only to learn that no one else actually went into isolation. | Lying underneath the broken husks of countries, some semblance of government had remained. And together, in their wisdom, the greats had decided that - to avoid any further conflicts, which could prove even more disastrous - each country should isolate itself from its neighbours. That way, even if some internal crisis occurred, the other nations wouldn't be effected: other nations wouldn't be pulled into some whirling shitstorm of civil war and guerrilla fighting.
50 years ago, every nation in the world - that is, every nation that was left - signed the Isolation Decree, stating that all outside borders; all outside communication, was to be ceased for 50 years. No international relations whatsoever. Punishment for breaking the treaty was nuclear bombardment: something no nation could afford now - for even the vast wilderness of Russia was some toxic wasteland now, the result of 17 years of warfare. America spearheaded the Decree - perhaps because of some degree of guilt; after all, it was President Trump who sparked the fire that lead the world here.
And so, 50 years of silence followed.
There were no wars: although, in the beginning, there were riots as people realised that America wasn't as independent as it proclaimed to be, as they realised that all these global mega-corps didn't function nearly so well when they couldnt reach their head-offices, or factories based in Bumfuck-Nowhere, working on slave labour. Products that were once considered everyday became luxuries, then faded into nothingness within the space of years. That isn't to say that life was bad - it was bearable, it was pleasant (for the most part): after the initiatives to revitalise internal industries, everything levelled out.
And so, 50 years of prosperity followed.
Then the 50 years ended, and America crawled out of her shell. And she found a world around her, bustling with activity, technology, freedom. For the world had grown tired of America: in her later years, she had grown gluttonous and lazy with power, swollen to the bursting point with ideologies that never came to be, with nationalism. So the world had conspired against her, and whilst America hid in her shell, the rest of the world linked their hands. She was 'The Greatest Nation'? How great she looked now, her people malnourished, her technology outdated, her armies disbanded. Next to the rest of the world - next to her former self - America was grey.
Grey and weak.
If there is one thing that is immutable, it is human nature. Such a frail nation, now. And truth be told, many were still bitter about losing America in the first place; after all, had it not belonged to the British once? Or the French? Or the Spanish? Such places as 'Britain', or 'France', or 'Spain' did not exist anymore though; no - instead, it was just 'Earth' and 'America'. But that didn't stop voices from complaining, and conspiring, and plotting. If enough voices speak, something is bound to happen.
And so, what was America came to not be. | I remember when it happened, all the channels on the television set wouldn't stop broadcasting about the discovery. It changed everything. Our government had been faithful, stood still in 1945, keeping the peace around the world.
I'd been chosen by the government to 'represent', nobody wanted to. I didn't want to meet these traitors, none of us did, we did as we were told and they didn't. I'd arrived fairly early at Los Angeles Airport, and was destined for the United Kingdom, who'd - apparently - argued for us to be 'awoken' as they described it. They were over ruled.
The flight was lengthy, on an American Airlines plane. It was the first time in fifty years a plane had flown an external flight, and I wasn't looking forward to it. I'd never flown and I didn't really want to, but I had to.
I stepped onto the tarmac of the runway, greeted by the flashing lights of a camera and a secretary type woman with a small electronic device, which looked like nothing i'd ever seen. I was rushed into a futuristic looking car, and read news of the other representatives arriving in various countries worldwide, some i'd never even heard of - a lot has changed. | 2016-10-18T14:31:05 | 2016-10-18T13:36:28 | 158 | 54 |
[WP] Super-speed can power a city without polluting. Super-healing can provide an endless supply of donor blood. Weather manipulation ends droughts. Your job is to convince superheroes to use their powers for practical purposes instead of fighting crime, and you’re very good at it. | John rushed over to Zach’s room when he heard the screams in the middle of the night. When he burst through the door, he noticed two things: Zach standing over the limp body of a masked man, and the hole smashed through Zach’s window.
“Daddy,” Zach sobbed, his hands covering his face as he spoke. “I hurt him…I hurt the bad man.”
Carefully stepping over the glass shards and the intruder’s unconscious body, John made his way to Zach and wrapped his arms around him. Zach pressed his head deep into his father’s chest, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was Zach’s muffled weeping.
“Shh…” John whispered, massaging Zach’s head. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
“What am I, daddy?”
“What else, besides my son?”
Locked in an embrace, John thought about the events that happened since Zach manifested his power. After the manifestation, Zach inadvertently sent his classmates and teachers to a mental asylum. But what frightened Zach most was when his own mother tried to kill him: when she failed, she ended up taking her own life.
Zach’s ability was a mind control curse. He could ravage anyone with visions of their worst nightmares, resulting in anything from unconsciousness to temporary—or permanent—insanity. Zach had no control over the visions. Fortunately, John was an adept psychic and could protect himself from his son’s wild outbursts of power. Other people were not as lucky.
Zach wiggled away from his father’s embrace and looked up. The moonlight pouring through the broken window made Zach’s tears shine.
“Everyone,” Zach murmured, pointing to the man on the floor, “Gets hurt because of me.”
John used his psychic ability to peer into Zach’s mind, revealing a whirlwind of emotions: fear, anger, guilt, and sadness. Taking a deep breath, John began to speak.
“You didn’t mean to hurt them,” John said.
“I know,” Zach replied. His voice was drowned out by the wind coming through the window.
John placed a hand on Zach’s shoulder and felt his son shaking.
“Your power is a gift, Zach. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
Plunging his head into his father’s chest, Zach let out a muffled yell: “But I never asked for this gift! Everyone…even mama…was hurt because of me! I wish I were never born!”
“If you wished you were never born,” John replied, “Then I would wish to bring you back.”
John tilted his head down, placing his forehead in his son’s hair.
“A gift is nothing without the person,” John continued, “And it’s the person that decides if their gift is good or bad.”
Zach suddenly stopped shaking and lifted his head from his father’s chest. After wiping his tears, Zach started to speak.
“But,” Zach whispered, “How can my gift be good?”
John smiled and simply replied: “You have the rest of your life to find out.”
\*\*\*
Zach sat back on his office chair, letting out a deep sigh. Today’s schedule was filled with back-to-back appointments, forcing Zach to work overtime and cut out his lunch break. Still, as Zach looked out the window and into the evening sun, he couldn’t help but grin. Being the town’s best psychologist wasn’t easy, but it was definitely satisfying. Zach’s specialty was helping people deal with PTSD, and he was known for his ability to make people confront their nightmares—and overcome them.
Swiveling towards the plaque on the wall, Zach read the philosophy that guided all of his treatments. It was a philosophy inspired by a great man now gone:
“A memory is nothing without the person. And it’s the person who decides if their memory is good or bad.” | I'm the closest thing the world has to a superhero.
I’m not sure why they call me that. I’m not a hero; I’m a diplomat. But the public has a way of putting labels on people. And, at the risk of being pedantic, I'm more of a freelance peacemaker than a superpowered rescuer.
Most superheroes are criminals. You wouldn’t believe how many people start out fighting crime, but end up becoming criminals themselves. Superpowers are addictive, and to abuse them means to abuse the public trust. You have to hound me for three months before you can even apply to join my organization. That’s why I know that helping people in distress is what they do.
But I don't deal with superheroes like that. I deal with any crime that we notice, like theft, gang violence, vandalism. It’s a small world, after all. I deal with all the small stuff, but I rarely deal with the big stuff. Like supervillains and supervillainy. The world of crime is usually a very small world. The people supervillains take from us are always the people we know very well. They don't just steal, they steal our cherished ideas.
Today, I get a report of a robbery. A bank, or a government office, or something similar. Nothing unusual. These things happen every other month. When I arrive, I find a crowd on the sidewalk across the street. They silently stare into the bank. I’m slow, and this is a busy street. I find a parking spot and walk across the street.
The building is bustling with police officers. Men in army-green hazmat suits mill around. I enter the lobby and find an object that my mind can't comprehend.
I look up.
Hang on, it’s harder to describe than you think. It’s, it’s…
TBC | 2021-04-11T08:10:41 | 2021-04-11T05:10:42 | 622 | 58 |
[WP] You are allowed to 'downvote' a government candidate instead of voting normally, reducing their votes by one. Turns out people have little love for politicians, and the majority end with negative votes. In these democracies, anonymity is the key to winning. | "I'm sorry, but we already have a candidate registered under the name Puppies Apple Pie, you'll have to choose a different pseudonym. Please choose something quickly, as we close in two minutes."
The elections office clerk was ancient. She had permed pink hair and was wearing glasses on a chain in a style that Julia could not believe had ever been fashionable. Her dress was a pre-Consolidation monstrosity that was surely only allowed under the government dress code due to some sort of grandfather clause.
Julia had spent weeks gathering the necessary signatures to become a candidate. Signing up only required twenty, but nobody answered their door anymore. She'd gotten the final one by cornering the produce manager at a grocery store. She'd done extensive data analysis to determine the best name to register under. "What about 'Anonymous'?"
"Taken." The clerk was watching the clock.
"Tits McGee?"
"He's our sitting Senator. And don't even think of registering Candidate McCandidateFace. They're all taken. You shouldn't have left this until the last day. You'll end up at the bottom of the ballot, assuming you can think of a name in the next thirty seconds."
"Wait, they're listed in the order they were received?" This was news to Julia. always in the past the big party candidates would give themselves the first slots on the ballots. The new downvoting system must have made them want to hide in the middle. She wrote down a name and handed it to the clerk. "How about this?"
The clerk nodded, looked at the clock, and pulled down the rolling gate to close the registration window.
\---------------------------------------
Julia's election night party was small. Just her, her mom, and the grocery store produce manager, Gary. Her mom had spent most of the night bustling around the kitchen, leaving her alone with him in front of the holoscreen. He kept trying to scoot towards her on the couch.
Anderson Cooper was leading the election coverage. Doing shots, as always. Julia's mom said that pre-Consolidation he'd often done the news without drinking, but everyone had decided they liked it better this way.
Anderson handed a beer bong back to Andy Cohen and continued calling results. "The Consolidated News Network can now predict that Tits McGee will be reelected to the Senate with over a million positive votes. I think it was his voting record on infrastructure that really resonated with people."
"Come on Anderson, get to the one that people really care about."
Anderson put a hand up to his ear to listen to his monitor. "They're just finishing the tally for President. As expected from our exit polls the big democratic and republican candidates both finished with large negative votes. There are still a few districts coming in but it looks to be a dead heat between Puppies Apple Pie and Anonymous. Wait one moment folks... Is that an actual candidate name?"
Anderson turned to consult with an aide who had rushed onto the set.
"It seems like we do have a clear winner, folks." Julia froze as her face flashed up on the screen. The picture she'd submitted with her application.
"The next President of the United States is candidate 'None of the Above'."
\[More writing at r/c_avery_m\] | Robert Smith was working from home, but hadn't yet gotten dressed (no video calls this morning) when the doorbell rang. He grumbled at that--he wasn't expecting any visitors. He quickly threw on a pair of jeans and a red polo that that he kept handy just in case, and answered the door.
Two men were standing at the door. One was wearing khakis and a blue polo, the other wearing jeans and a white polo. They were both holding two clipboards each.
Robert opened the door cautiously. "Can I help you gentlemen?" he asked.
"Maybe," Blue Polo answered. "Are you Robert Smith?"
"Depends who's asking."
"Well, my name's Bob Smith, and I live about two blocks that way, and my companion here is Bobby Smith, from those condos just before you get to Main Street, just inside the Ward 5 line. We were wondering if you've ever considered running for the Ward 5 seat on City Council."
Robert's mind raced. He could see where this was going. And the current ward councilwoman, Mary Jones, definitely needed to go. If it hadn't been for her name unrecognition, she'd never have gotten the job. He opened the door a little wider. "Come on in," he said. "Let's talk." | 2022-11-21T08:20:23 | 2022-11-21T06:52:58 | 448 | 78 |
[WP] It is modern day America, but everyone speaks in Shakespearean English. You are a gamer raging out during an online multiplayer match. | What in God's name hath thee just say about me, thy little wench? I must have thee knoweth that I have graduated in the top of my class in the prestigious Navy SEALS, and I have taketh part in numerous raids on the heathen group, Al-Qaeda, and thou shall knoweth that I have slain ov'r 300 heathens. I am in the prestigious ranks of gorilla warfare, and I am the finest sniper thine armed forces has laid eyes on. Thou art nothin' but another heathen. I shall wipe thee heathen face off of God's earth with precision which hath not been witnessed by human eyes, mark mine fucking words. Thou shall think that thee can escape after the maketh of such henious remarks to me? Thou shall think again, wench. As I layeth my words upon thee, a secretive collection of spies across the mighty hands of the former British colony and has been notified of my disdain towards thee, and your IP address is traceth at this moment, so thou must prepareth for an almighty storm, heathen. This storm that shall rid this planet of the pathetic thing that shall be begrudgingly called thy life. Thou art fucking dead, child. I shall be showing myself in anywhere, at anytime, and shall the need arises, I shall slay thee in over one hundred possibilities, with mine hands alone. Not only I am prestigious in the art of unarmed combat, thou shall see that I haveth access to the entire battery of weapons that even our God would fear, and I shall maketh full use of it to rid of your miserable face on this mighty continent, wench. Oh what thou could've learneth of mine unholy retributions thine small "comment" was ready to bring down upon thee, maybe thee would have grasped thine toungue and held a secrecy. Unfortunately for thou, thine toungue has not been held, and now the price for which thee must pay is immense, swine. I shall eject mine shit of fury so large, thou shalt drown in thine brown liquid. Thou art fucking perished, kiddo. | Come now, thou lily-livered hog's behind!
Come forth, and face thine punishment!
Thou cheating coward! May no MOBA let
Thee play forevermore! Be cursed to rot
Upon the sidelines, lover-boy of whores!
And may your mother lay abed with all
the rotten, scurvied, men of ill-repute! | 2017-01-09T21:11:09 | 2017-01-09T15:44:37 | 48 | 22 |
[WP] You've taken over 30 different career aptitude tests, but the only result you've ever gotten was "banana tree". | I was fourteen, a freshman at Purksbay High, when I first asked, “What are my results?” The part time accountant and full time counselor stared in amazement.
“Mr. Roberts, what does it say?” I asked, engulfed with a passion and drive to take on the world and build a meaningful life. Mr. Roberts twirled his index finger, as the words rolled off his tongue, “Banana Tree.”
For a week, I wondered what type of career was summarized by the words, Banana Tree. But, to my surprise, Mr. Roberts called me back to his office. He sat behind his desk -- his fingers stuck in a Chinese finger trap. “Bryan, I have good news. The first career aptitude test must have had a glitch. I would like for you to retake it.” Two hours later, and for the second time in two weeks, I heard the words... “Banana Tree.”
_________________________________________________________________
The weeks became months, and months became junior year. I was the second string tight end for the Purksbay Porkers, and honestly, the words, Banana Tree, didn’t have much meaning any longer. But, there I sat, for the seventh time in two and a half years, taking the career aptitude test.
“Bryan, I have your results.” Mr. Roberts approached me with the papers in his hands. His hands were in handcuffs, but as he approached me, he twirled his fingers like a magician, and the handcuffs were gone. It was impressive. He was a part time accountant, a full time counselor, and a part time magician -- Mr. Roberts had three careers, and I had... Banana Tree.
He placed his hand on my shoulder, “I’m sorry Bryan. It’s, Banana Tree.“ I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. Banana Tree is not the set of words you cry at. Banana Tree are the two words at the end of a joke, but not something you can ever really cry about.
_________________________________________________________________
It was senior year. I had a girlfriend, a college scholarship, friends, football… but I still had yet to be given a career. For the twenty-eighth time in my almost four years, I heard the words... Banana Tree. But what did I care, it was Prom Night, and I was about to get some action.
Fast forward to graduation day. Mr. Roberts called me to his office. I sat there and watched him juggle for a few minutes. He was good. Real good. Not only was he a counselor, a magician, and an accountant, but he also could juggle, which he was practicing, because he was performing at our graduation ceremony that night.
“Bryan, as a school counselor, and a part time accountant, and a part time magician, and a part time comedian, I wish deeply in my heart that I could give you one of my skills. But that’s not how it works. However, I have something for you. I have two career aptitude tests in my possession; one is the same one you have taken twenty-eight times, and the other is brand new.”
Brand new…a fresh start, I thought. He told me, “I know its graduation day, but as my graduation gift to you, I’d like to be able to tell you your career.” I ate those words right up, and grabbed two pencils, and off I ran.
Two hours later, and I was done. Mr. Roberts approached me, “Bryan, this is the twenty-ninth time you have taken this career aptitude test, and for the twenty-ninth time,” he bowed his head, “Banana Tree.” At this point, I was desensitized to those words, and I hardly reacted.
“However, we have the wild card; the brand new test that you have never taken. And I have good news.” Mr. Roberts twirled his fingers as he spoke, “It says, Orange Tree.”
I didn’t really understand his response. Orange Tree. Okay, I guess my career is in farming. But I still didn’t understand, so I asked, “Orange Tree?”
Mr. Roberts smiled like a disturbed clown, and didn’t speak a single word. He began juggling his bowling pins, while rapidly moving his fingers in and out of the Chinese finger trap. I was in amazement, when it happened. When he violently screamed, “ORANGE YA GLAD I DIDN’T SAY BANANA TREE!”
| Life is ultimately pointless there is no grand scheme, no benevolent creator or even an primordial tentacle monster. It is nothing but chaos and the order that We as humans have created. As such a man who believes these things with all my heart, and with the universe itself evidence to my claim why then does the world seem to assign me the destiny of banana tree. What even is that as a career path are there promotions, scaling back how do I make money do I sell my bananas?. Even if I did I'm only one banana tree I can't create enough product to establish a self sustaining business. Plus how would I go about filing taxes is that Labour, or produce or both. Maybe I could be like a scenic banana tree you pay me to sit there and look nice in your garden. Then again who ever heard of paying a lawn ornament, "oh my water feature is excellent and he only costs me 15 an hour". I could be like a security guard I sit there silently and when attackers show up bam banana to the face, and then my tombstone can read "died throwing bananas at armed men in a banana tree costume, he kinda deserved it". I guess porns an option there's bound to be an overly enthuasitic banana tree fan out there. I don't know if the market isn't a little too niche for long term success there's only so many different scenarios I can shove bananas up my arse before I'm beating a dead horse which is an idea for a video I suppose. But how much do those fetishes overlap it would be like Archie vs predator it wouldn't really work. Actually scratch that, that sounds rad as hell fucking predator attending high school and trying to fit in slash repress his need to hunt and kill all while the proms tomorrow. time to spice up that love triangle with some Archie on predator action. See this is why my career path is banana tree I'm pretty much useless at anything I do. My bananas would probably have a low potassium count anyway. I still don't even know how I'm even supposed to be a banana tree do I sign up for weird experiments and live in agony as hormones are pumped into my body and low potassium bananas are pumped out this just doesn't oh shit a bus.
It was then that the creator finished reading my final thoughts he then looked up and with a wry smile decided that my reincarnation would be a banana tree, that I would not remember any of this. "In fact" the creator's epic voice echoed throughout my entire existence "you will be a low potassium yielding banana tree with a great sense of belonging". Jokes on him I remember everything and I still reckon those career aptitude tests are a load of rubbish. And that if he can't even get a lousy banana tree reincarnation right then life really is pointless. | 2017-03-10T08:13:34 | 2017-03-10T04:47:16 | 119 | 13 |
[WP] Humanity has finally noticed that almost every other galactic species has rather bizarre beliefs about humans. They seem down right gullible about just what humans can or will do at any time. So humanity decides to have some fun with it. | When man told its first story, what was it for then? What is it for now?
To fascinate oneself? Delighting a small group of friends? Entertaining a flock of fans? Interesting thousands and millions of people through a screen?
No. It was all for this moment. For the utter bullshit that was about to spew forth from Lksi's mouth--and mine.
"So, humans have magic," Lksi said.
"Yes," I said. "We all possess fantastic magical powers."
"How does it feel like? To light fire from your hands?"
"Yes," I replied. I promptly lit a flame in my hand, to a satisfactory ooh and ah from my new friend.
It was perhaps strange for a technologically advanced, spacefaring alien from the Mapresti civilization to ask about a simple lighter. But then, they don't smoke cigarettes, I suppose--less vices than us. Perhaps why they got to space about three millennia before we did, apparently entirely suffused with stories about the Homo sapiens.
"It's always so exciting to talk to you, Charles Edwards! You won that name from the last person you battled, right? With those old-timey things called... swords?"
"You are 100 percent correct," I nodded. "I used to be known as Mark Smith until I duelled a person for it, yes."
"Ew," Lksi said. "Charles Edwards is definitely much better than Mark Smith."
"Definitely," I said. "Thank god I managed to win that duel with a triple dragon slash."
"That's those special moves right? Like it's something you just call out and things happen?"
"Yes," I said. "It's called a Limit Break."
"Oh," Lksi excitedly clasped his three hands together. "What about the other magic network? The internet? The thing where you guys can communicate with each other?"
"Yea, that's very exciting," I said. "But don't you have that?"
"Yes," Lksi said, but a twinge of sadness accompanied his words. "But it's not as cool as the internet. It's less cat videos and more thoughts about progress and advancement and stuff."
The Maspreti were a hive mind, last I recalled.
"There are benefits to being a hive mind, right?"
"Some," the alien replied. His fingers were now steepled together into a frankly impressive formation, like an impromptu Eiffel Tower sprouted from his froggy, yellow digits. "Though I wish I could simply fall into slumber and relax without others' convictions flooding my mind."
Guess not being able to turn it off took a toll on its individual denizens. I whipped out my smartphone then, scrolling to a readily available trove of cat gifs.
"Here," I said, turning the screen towards Lksi. "I know these cheer you up."
"Aww," Lksi smiled. "It really is like magic. This cat thing. You understand its species?"
"Oh no," I said. "That's the one thing that we don't know anything about. Unfathomable, really."
"It really is so delightful hearing about your human intricacies," Lksi chuckled, handing my phone back to me. "But I have to go elsewhere, really. I'll be back for more stories! And this coffee thing."
"Which burns you from the inside. It gives you energy," I smiled, lifting the coffee cup to my lips. "Till next time, then."
"It really does. From the burning, right! So excellent!"
"Oh, and one more thing," I said.
Lksi tilted their head quizzically.
"The one thing?"
"Remember the game?"
"The game," Lksi's voice dropped to a low whisper, before a wave of realization washed over them. "Ah. I lost the game."
"As long as you know, Lksi," I raised my coffee cup smugly.
---
r/dexdrafts | I remember as a kid I had a very wild and wacky imagination. I watched those weird science-y YouTube videos on stuff like "what if we all jumped at the same time" and stuff like that. Before I watched that video though I'd always thought that if every human on Earth jumped at the same time the planet would collapse. Of course I know better now but here's the thing, they don't. Our recent contact with several other alien species was really peaceful and went exceedingly well. A few of them find our sci fi movies hilarious actually. However they all take what we say kinda literally. So as a prank we naturally said we'd crush our planet by jumping at the same time. Who knew that all it would take to unify humanity wasn't a common enemy or threat but a funny prank to make our alien friends freak out a little.
The day of the prank was a Saturday and the time was noon. We even set up a universal clock so that no one would jump at the wrong time and so that the aliens knew when it would actually happen. When it got down to the last few minutes it got really quiet. Everyone stopped what they were doing and got to the ground floor of wherever they were. Then we waited.
Ten
Nine
Eight
Seven
Six
Five
Four
Three
Two
One
Zero
We all jumped with a thunderous shout.
And nothing happened. Much to the shock of our alien neighbors we then went about our day as normal. The day carried on like any other but at the end of the day we just outright told them it was for fun and they were unbelievably relieved. A select few of them were actually considering making us a planetary threat if we succeeded in collapsing a planet but then they thought about it and figured we'd be dead anyways so it was no big deal, others just thought we were bat shit crazy. We all laughed for a while about it and a lot of get togethers took place. It was all around fun and I suspect more than a few of our interstellar neighbors are planning pranks of their own. | 2021-06-13T11:37:31 | 2021-06-13T11:07:30 | 79 | 34 |
[WP] After being chosen in an elaborate contest and ritual, the Grand Sorcerer defeated you and banished you to the Dark Realm for 1,000 years. When you finally return to defeat the new Grand Sorcerer, you discover that the position has since devolved into a largely ceremonial and bureaucratic role. | A thousand years wasn't really that long.
Not on the scale of humanity, anyway. The mounds of the Britons were nearly three thousand years old before the Roman Empire even collapsed. The last pyramid was built a thousand years after the first. Fifty generations of babies learning to smile, youths piecing together a broken heart, crones warming themselves in the sunlight shining on the graves of their husbands. Warriors warring, lovers loving, magicians magicking. Here a water wheel, there a crossbow, or the number 0, but still and always peasants in their fields, the merchants in their cities, the monarchs in their palaces.
Honestly, it was almost a relief to be Banished. Anno Domini 1021 was a mediocre year at best; I didn't care for Byzantium. India and China were more entertaining, but I wasn't there; I was in a prison in Constantinople. At least the architecture was nice.
Also nice: the guards outside my cell were visibly terrified. One kept signing the sigil to avert the Evil Eye--incorrectly--and the other trembled whenever he had to come within arm's reach. They seemed like nice boys. I decided not to curse them.
The Grand Sorcerer, conversely--*she* I would curse. Or would, if my hands hadn't been shackled in iron behind my back, my mouth gagged with an iron bit, and my eyes put out with iron nails. That had been clever of her, I had to admit. The entire setup had been; lured into a blacksmithy by a farrier who didn't understand that the gold he had been paid would never be enough to cover the horror of what would happen next.
Blind I may be, but not dead. Never dead. No matter how much I wished it. But perhaps being Banished would be a nice respite. I didn't struggle as the Words washed over me, binding my soul to the darkness beyond. It was cold, but I had been frozen before. It was dark, but I was blind anyway.
For now. For a thousand years.
I think she had meant to Banish me for longer, but perhaps she realized at the last moment that it would take too much out of her--that she wanted to save some of herself to watch her babies learn to smile, help them piece together their broken hearts, sit by the graveside of her husband in the sun. Just as I had done, so long ago. I understood.
A thousand years passed quickly.
I was ready when the spell broke. It was not gentle. Still blinded, bound, and gagged, I had to force the oxidation of a thousand years to rust away my fetters without letting the time touch my flesh. Regrowing my eyes felt like knives, and I tasted blood. Wherever I was, the floor was cold. When I finally forced my eyes open, I still saw only darkness.
As soon as I conjured a light, I heard a scream. Then there was the clatter of somebody carrying many objects suddenly dropping them and scrambling away. I blinked. I was still in the same cell, but surrounded by... things. Indescribable things. Boxes and sheafs of paper I recognized, but nothing else. Some were made of iron, and steel--the iron in that alloy still stung, but not like hard iron did. Now the screaming had words. I didn't recognize the language, but the screamer's mind was clear.
"HELP!" he was screaming. "IT'S HAPPENING! IT'S HAPPENING! GOD HELP US!"
Two men ran into my line of sight. The screaming one was young, tall but chronically stooped. He was wringing his hands and whimpering. The non-screaming one was old and soft, fat around the middle and slack under the arms. His jowls jiggled in horror. I was still recovering my strength, so I said nothing.
"Y-y-y-you!" stuttered the old one. And then he pointed at the magelight over my head. "Magic!" he squeaked.
I was already growing tired of this. With a Word, I locked them like statues. The bars of my prison melted away at a touch.
"Who are you?"
The young one just squealed incoherently. The old one stammered, "I-I-I-I... I'm the G-G-Grand Sorcerer?" He sounded like he wasn't sure he should admit to it.
I rifled through his mind. His soft, un-warded mind, like a snail pulled from its shell. He was. He *was* the Grand Sorcerer, but oh, how that had changed. First they had done away with the contest, then they had forbidden women, then they had forgotten that magic was real. The whole world had. And in its absence... marvels. Machines. Electricity. Medicines. I reeled. All that was left was the ritual, conducted entirely by soft little men in sweaty little rooms, half-disbelieving their own words, and a long-forgotten government pension currently billed to "Administrative Services." They weren't prepared for me to come; only his cringing little acolyte had even thought to come down, during his lunch break, to see if the prophecy held any truth. His food lay strewn across the ancient flagstones. It smelled delicious. What spices were these? What were they wearing? What was that music I could hear above?
I laughed. I couldn't stop laughing. I killed them both with a single Word amid my laughter and ascended the steps.
A thousand years is a long time. | 1,000 years.
The stone ring shuddered, towering over the strange, bulbous creatures I'd spent decades subjugating and intended for my vanguard. It took centuries to adapt their society, and, unfortunately, more than a little brutality, but now I had full confidence in my would-be shock troops.
1,000 years.
The elaborate gem structure in the rings' keystone began to glow, and a faint shimmering of the old world started to beome visible in its centre. It was like trying to look through ice on glass, but hopefully it would stabilise this time, under the confluence of stars.
1,000 bitter years.
I turned my gaze over my left shoulder, taking in the few hundred muscular, furry creatures best adapted to my spoken language who were chanting towards the ring. Tens of thousands of their smaller, hairless brethren stood off to one side, performing final checks on siege weaponry.
1,000 damnable years.
A noise made me swing my head back to the right, to Lieutenant Adramalech. He seemed to be gesturing with his stupid mule head at the ring, his plumage quivering behind him. It drew my attention back to the newly forming portal.
1,000 years of preparation.
The view through the ring was crystal clear now, showing my enemy at some kind of desk covered with arcane symbols and notes. Unexpectedly, he was alone. I held my hand up to halt the vanguard, and with a moments consideration, began the invasion alone.
1,000 years is enough.
Astaroth started, and looked up at me in surprise. "Leonard! Good to see you, old friend! I haven't seen you, in, what?-"
"A thousand years."
"No? It's been far longer than- but of course! Time will have been different for you! Come here, let me show you how things work these days!"
More than a little confused, and more cautious than I can remember ever being before, I approached his arcane papers. After a few moments I began to recognise, then understand, the odd language arrayed out in front of me. It seemed to be some kind of multi-origin trade language, with much ambiguity.
"-and these cause untold levels of suffering, and the best part is no-one seems to want to stop us! They just do it to one another!" Astaroth continued. I hadn't realised I'd been so focused on the documents and missed the start of his spiel. He gestured to an arcane symbol, a 'chart'.
"Hold on." I interrupted. "You short- I don't understand this verbiage. What even is a stock?"
Several hours passed as he explained the current setup in this new, old world. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Clearly the thinking had changed, indiscriminate punishments on all, deserving or not, with special ones receiving extra attention after death, which is where Astaroth suggested I be utilized. Stunned, I took a few steps back towards the now dimming portal.
"You... you're insane. This is inhumane." I stammered. The cold, patient gaze of Astaroth stared back at me, unfazed.
I stepped back through the portal, much to the surprise of my Lieutenant.
"O Great Horned One! Back already?" Adramalech sputtered. Of course, time travels slower, here. I must not have been gone long.
"There... there's nothing there." I stated, as stone-faced as I could manage. "Change of plans. Prepare to march on the humans at Huntington castle." At least I could be certain most of them deserved this.
1,000 years before I try that again. | 2021-01-28T17:40:46 | 2021-01-28T15:42:07 | 292 | 39 |
[WP] You are a dark god. The police raided your temple, arrested your cultists, and ate the pb&j sandwich that your youngest worshiper left on your altar | A distraction.
Some like to portray demons and villains as misunderstood, which is in many regards belittling their character. A god of darkness should not have that conundrum; one does not become a god without fully embodying what one represents, and if one represents darkness, one *is* darkness.
Yet somehow, someone has managed to misunderstand me.
There are countless altars to my worship throughout the world. Some have offerings of wealth or incense, while others blood and organs. Food is not an uncommon tithe as well, so when a small folded piece of bread filled with meager sugary confection was thrown on a stone slab in some secluded part of the world, I did not pay it any regard. I did not even much care that it was a small girl, no older than a decade of age (though it is always hard to tell with humans), put it there. Nor did I pay particular notice to when the shrine, like many others, was raided by law enforcement; after all, worshipping a god whose followers are known to offer blood sacrifices is, to my understanding of the word, 'illegal'. No, what drew my attention was what the child shouted when he was apprehended.
"No! That's not yours!"
She said it as an officer was dragging her away, while another had stayed behind, taken the sandwich and ate it as she was being removed from the premises. 'My' sandwich.
The statement was somehow both arrogant and selfless. Ignorant yet definite. To take from the weak is normal - those officers were simply stronger, and to be frank, a god was not going to descend over a sandwich, even if it was an offering to myself. But the girl - to be so wrong, and yet so determined...
It was a distraction, and one which I chose not to ignore.
A noise that sounded like gunfire sounds in the distance, distracting her captor. The one eating the sandwich finds it is a little dry, and chokes for just a moment. The bindings on her hands slip. She sees it as a sign - and to her credit, *this time* she is right, and sprints away from the officer. He attempts to give chase, but out of the corner of his eye, he watches his partner begin to choke. Given the choice between catching a prisoner and saving his partner, it is a predictable choice. Not a bad case of divine intervention, considering all I had to work with was a sandwich.
She runs away. Through the streets, through the alleys, down into a small, decrepit corner under a bridge. She catches her breath; children have such energy compared to the adults. And the moment she recovers, she collapses to her knees and says:
"I'm sorry. Thank you - for saving me again."
It's too much. Perhaps there's some event in her past she believes I aided her with. I have to respond.
**"Why do you thank me?"** She jumps in reaction to the voice.
"For always being there for me."
**"I am not always here for you. I have millions of subjects. Why would you assume I care at all about a single one?"**
"Did you not save me this time?"
Fantastic. I've been outwit by a child.
**"Would you like to know what it's like to be a god?"**
Suddenly, she looks up, her eyes sparkling.
**"I do not care for anything. For any of you. It is not a matter of evil, but a question of scale; if you had one friend, a single friend, you would go through any length to ensure they live. But I may keep anyone alive I wish, even through otherwise certain death - because of this, the death of any person holds no meaning. Thus, life holds no value to me. What is the value of one when you have millions of so-called friends?"**
The girl seemed to think for a moment. At first, I believed she had begun to grasp the idea, that it was impossible for a god to care about life to an entity who could give or take it so readily.
"Will you be my friend?" She asked.
I have to admit her question had, once again, given me pause.
**"Sure,"** I replied.
She seemed overjoyed. So much so, that she began talking for the rest of the night; it might have been an entire sermon, had there been an audience. However, she soon wore herself out, and immediately curled up to sleep on the cardboard floor she had made for herself.
What is a friend to a god? | ######[](#dropcap)
There's something senseless about the way flesh meets metal.
The desperate pleas and cries, the anguish, this is all nothing new. Especially not new to I, who has lived through both feast and famine, the dark times of the Rebellion and the high times of the Exalted Era. I have known moments when my alter knew nothing but cobwebs and dust, and moments when the blood of virgins were spilled on the stone every night.
And I have survived through it all. So there was nothing special about these four, save perhaps a lack of common sense on the part of the littlest. Gods do not eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
As the uniformed soldiers rush into the space--my space, that I have occupied since long before their grandfather's father knew of any existence--I watch with calm. They knock over everything in their path. The chairs, the candles, the scriptures.
The people.
The glint of metal as they pull out the handcuffs is oddly bright against the flames from the knocked over candles that begin to lick up the curtains toward the ceiling. The pleas from my followers are especially ardent tonight, as they beg me to do something for them.
Imagine that. A God, stooping to do something for the people who are meant to serve him. I have no intentions of saving them. They are nothing more to me than a droplet of water in the ocean. The droplet does not ask what the sun can do for it, does it not?
But then, the soldier moves forward. I can see his eyes beneath the helmet, the cold glint in his eye as he reaches up to the alter and grabs the sandwich so lovingly laid there mere minutes before. I can sense the heady aroma he gives off, an intoxicating scent that lingers in the air. I know what he craves. It is the same thing I crave.
Power.
He takes a bite of the sandwich.
This is the moment I'm waiting for. The sandwich crumbles to dust in his mouth, coating his tongue with a thick, black goo that rushes down his throat. He cries for help, but air in his lungs is nothing but flame. It takes but a moment. Then he blinks, and places the rest of the sandwich back on the altar and gently caresses the stone. He leaves with the rest, but the arrogance in his step is no longer.
The old Gods were fools. Using their powers to help mortals? A Sisyphean task with no reward.
But this. This was much more rewarding.
***
r/AlannaWu | 2020-05-20T00:25:50 | 2020-05-19T23:44:12 | 53 | 32 |
[WP] You are an ancient and incredibly powerful god, and you’re furious that your enemies keep sending teenage “chosen ones” to fight you. | I feel sorry for the parents, really.
Here they are, they've raised a lovely son or daughter (OK, probably son), they're looking forward to having them take over the family business, or the farm, or get married to that eligible young bachelor down the road.
And then some wizened old hermit with more beard than sense shows up and tell them that they're the 'Chosen One', and that they and they alone can defeat 'The Terrible One', just because of some birthmark, or the fact they have red hair and their parents don't, or, I don't know, they were born on February 29th on a full moon (honestly I can't keep up these days).
Birthmarks, really? Do you know how many people out there have birthmarks? "It's meant to be 'Chosen One', not 'Chosen One in Ten'. And red hair? Never heard of genetics, morons? (actually they haven't, don't worry, you'll all find out in a thousand years).
So here he is, barely capable of reproducing, being handed a sword almost the size of him, and told to go into the wilderness to find yours truly. Just as an aside, half the time the sword is a cheap knockoff, the other half, it is an actual valuable heirloom, which doesn't mean anything because just because something is old, doesn't mean it's any better at GOD KILLING than an AK-47 (again, you'll find out).
And over what? Ancient history, I tell you. Yes, I will admit that I have decimated a couple of civilizations in my time (which at the time wasn't considered that big a deal, losing 10% of your people back then was called 'a bad day'), but in my defence they generally deserved it. Everyone talks about the 'knowledge of the ancients' and the 'forgotten, cherished culture', but no-one brings up the 'sadistic slavery' or the 'human sacrifices' or the 'demon worship' (other demons that is, polytheism is confusing).
If you ask these learned scholars about what I've done more recently, all they can do is wave their hands around vaguely and refer to some local despot's recent turn to madness, or the latest invasion of some trumped-up hegemonic empire. I'm now used as a scapegoat for every would-be emperor, dictator or fanatic's rise to power. Some local mayor goes off the deep end and decides to play 'Citizen Murder 2: Murder Harder', and I get blamed.
Do people really think I have the time to inspire all these invasions, rebellions and revolutions? There's only so many hours in the day, you know. Not to mention, doesn't anyone find it weird that a God previously feared as "The Destroyer of Armies and Nations" is resorting to corrupting random monarchs and inspiring vaguely menacing prophecies? Now, I fully admit that I was a bit of a menace when I was younger, but at least I was more than willing to get my hands dirty. When I 'came down like thunder and lighting on my pitiful foes', there was actual thunder and actual lightning. The 'rivers of blood' were probably better called 'streams', but you'd be surprised how much human blood you need for something that could be considered a river. It's like.. at least a large sized country, or a small empire's worth. It's not really practical, is what I'm saying.
Which, in a round-about way, brings me to you, my dear latest Chosen One. You see, if I was younger, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. I would have simply snapped you and your somewhat ostentatious pole-arm like twigs (bonus marks for bringing a halberd by the way, swords are so cliche nowadays). But, you see, I am old now, very old, and killing random humans for the crime of being gullible no longer interests me.
I am very old, and very lonely, for all my brothers and sisters are dead, either by each other's hands, or simply faded away over the centuries. Now, only I am left, and I too will fade away soon enough, once humanity finds gods and demons to replace me. Gunpowder, dynamite, mustard gas, nuclear bombs... you'll all know what they are in time.
And so, I make you an offer. I can kill you now, and you can join the long, forgotten list of failed heroes and champions, or you can stay with me here, and I can show you a glimpse of infinity, all the way from the start of the universe, to its eventual end. And if, after all of that, you still wish to kill me, you should know the only weapon that can harm me is Time, and I have plenty of that to give you. | This is preposterous. First i get summoned by a chap named Arthur who wielded Excalibur, the only sword which could kill me. Then he threatens to kill me unless i protect his empire. I wouldn't say i hated it, in fact i think my time there may have changed me. However, after all that i get sent to quell some asinine rebels in the colonies and they seal me with an ancient spell. And after all that some blokes in black robes go through all the shenanigans required to break my 200 year old seal and summon me to this mortal plane.
Can't i at least get a cup of tea? Maybe the finest tea from the Raj? But no, instead after i awake and kill the pricks that summoned me, got around to destroying the 13 colonies, and finally report back to Buckingham Palace the Queen says that Britain has changed a lot in 200 years. Bollocks!
Now here i am, sitting on my throne of American skulls eating my bangers and mash, when some teenage boy comes up to me.
"Foul being! I am here to slay you for the countless destruction you have layed upon America. Die!"
The child then began to charge me with his sword. At this point i was rather unimpressed, as i had taken a nuclear bomb to the face before. I took his sword, used it to clean my teeth a bit then poofed him out of existence.
But the Americans clearly were not done yet, next a teenage girl came. Then another boy. Then a thing that was both a boy and a girl. And a few years after the first boy came, a teenager dressed in a fox suit approached me.
"Demon! I have come to cleanse you from this world!"
"Yes, yes i know the drill. You attack me and i kill you, is that right, human?"
"Actually, I'm a fox. I would like you to call me Firedash as that's the native word for warrior in my species, an-"
"Oh bloody hell, Im done with this!" I bellowed, then vaporized the fox-human warrior thing. I opened a dimensional rift to the inside of the inside of the president's office.
"Oi, what's the meaning of this Ronald?"
The U.S. president, clearly shocked at first regained his composure.
"The meaning of what?"
"*This*" i hissed as i pointed to the bundle of swords the 'chosen ones' all brought with them.
"Oh, they were sent to kill you."
"Really now? Then why send one lone teenager when you should have sent your mightiest warrior? At least then i won't be so bloody bored."
"Oh, thats simple." The president said. "You said when you first destroyed the country that no man could kill you, so we sent children, women and people who were not men to fight you."
"You fockin wot mate."
The president just stared at me.
"BLIMEY, I ONLY SAID THAT FOR DRAMATIC EFFECT YOU TIT. IM DONE WITH YOU LOT"
And with that, i left this cursed world in search of a new one. | 2018-05-19T04:39:08 | 2018-05-19T01:52:14 | 690 | 120 |
[WP] A vampire commissions you to paint a portrait of her, she's spent centuries wanting to know how she looks. | Never done this before but here goes...
She stood, looking brilliant, in her classical garb, small of stature but somehow seeming to take up most of the space in the struggling artist’s studio apartment.
“Well?” “What do you think?”
Clementine looked in disbelief at the photo taken on her smartphone, showing only the red brick wall behind the intruder.
“Not to be a boor, but I told you so.” Exclaimed the person who was now revealed to be, as she said, a vampire. Why would she be anything else? She had no reflection and caught no light so pictures captured nothing.
I suppose the only reason I can see her is that she wants me to. thought Clementine. She realized her mouth was agape and managed to slowly pick her jaw up off the floor and stammer out a confused,
“Uh, uh, o-okay”
The vampire nodded with what seemed like resigned acceptance and stated confidently,
“Then let us begin!”
“First, coffee.” The quick response surprising both herself and her guest. “It’s past midnight and if I’m to do this before dawn, I’ll be needing lots. I can’t stay up all night like you”
She turned to walk to the ‘kitchen’ and realized she had been a poor host, although also wondering if it was necessary, she turned on her heel and posited the question,
“Uuhm... would you like any?”
The vampire responded with what seemed like disgust,
“I don’t need it.”
_____________________________________________
With her easel and canvas set up, her guest posing proudly in a regal looking position, her coffee made, and her pallet set, she found herself unable to start.
“Why the delay? We haven’t much time you know.” The imposing woman asked Coolly.
“It... it’s just... why me?” Clementine asked as if her heart were in her throat.
“My dear I’ve seen your work, you’re quite good.”
Clementine was flattered.
“Besides,” the vampire continued, “Look around, this place, your belongings. No one knows who you are, and no one will ever believe you.” | “Oh, you want me to paint you?” asked a confused Clarence slightly startled by the 1800s looking vampire standing at the foot of his bed. “Let me just take a photo of you instead on my iPhone”.
Clarence took a photo on his iPhone and showed it to the vampire.
“Well shit, this was a much easier idea” she concluded.
| 2018-01-28T11:32:43 | 2018-01-28T08:23:32 | 202 | 61 |
[WP] When you were sent to Hell, you expected fire, brimstone and hordes of demons. But upon your arrival you found nothing but a barren wasteland and a single lonely imp. | An epicenter of agony and pain. A blazing inferno, where the truly dammed reside in endless limbo. At least, that's what we were all led to believe. The reality of it all is actually quite... dull. A moment of nausea washes trough you as you pass onto the afterlife and the first thing you, see? A barren wasteland as far as the eye can see. It was weird in a sense. You would expect that at the very least, you would be met with unmatched torture, but it was as if all my senses were gone, stripped away from me by the hand of the almighty.
"Hello!"
Nothing.
"Guess I'll have to explore this place myself."
I started to walk for what seemed an eternity but there were no visible landmarks to indicate I even moved from where I started. Fatigue did not seem to be a problem in this particular realm.
"What the hell am I supposed to do!" I screamed, hoping for any form of a response.
A tinge of fear crawled up my spine as I started to consider a possibility. Maybe this was my hell. An existence that is on the border of insanity. No starving, No pain, No emotions, No contact with anyone. Not even the means to end this senseless, pitiful life of mine. This was it, who said torture was the worst kind of hell?
Just as I was about to throw in the towel, a vice suddenly came from behind. "You lost, young man?"
To my utter astonishment, before me stood an imp and a very messed up one at that. It was the size of your average monkey. It had wings but they were badly burned to the point that it was impossible to fly with them. Its pitch-black form seemed a little faded if that made any sense. It had claws but some of them were missing but the first thing I noticed on the imp were the absence of eyes.
I held up hands in a show of peace, but I realized that was in poor taste. "Who are you?"
The imp snickered. "And here I thought you humans were at least taught ethics."
"Sorry, it's just it's not every day you see someone of your... species?"
"You sure you're not a demon, boy? Definitely got the mouth of one"
I sensed the tension that hung in the air after that remark, so I just continued. "Name's Danial, I would extend a hand, but I don't want to lose it."
The imp just sighed. "What' the point of formalities? We're screwed either way."
"Where's everyone?"
The imp seemed genuinely surprised. "Don't you know? Hell is tailor made for each and every one of its inhabitants."
That was troubling. Maybe my deductions were spot on, and this was my eternal fate.
The imp asked. "Gotta say though, as far hells go, this one's not that bad. This the stuff of your nightmares?"
I answered whole heartedly. "Always thought it would be college but hey, the devil knows best I guess."
"My life has always been hell. I mean look at me."
So I guess this was it, how my story ends. Trapped in an endless loop with a depressed roomy. Man, do I regret my life. Welcome to hell, have a pleasant stay. | "No! No, get away! Before... *they* get here!"
I was shook. This demon was concerned for me and I literally just got here. I don't know why either. I guess I should've gone with Catholic instead of Baptist. Anyways.
I went to ask the imp who they were talking about and what was going on, but then I saw three hulking figures behind him. One second he was screaming. The next he was over there, over there, and up there.
I saw the 3 and I was both excited and terrified.
A man in greenish armor that exposed his biceps and midriff, packing a shotgun.
Another man in a tattered outfit and a mechanical arm, packing the biggest sword I have ever seen in my life.
The third one didn't look like he belonged. He was a normal-looking guy with brown hair. The only thing out-of-place about him was a red gauntlet.
I was excited because I knew who all three of them were.
I was scared because they didn't look happy to see me.
Sure, it's Hell, there's not much to be happy about. But these looks weren't of discontent, they were angry and malicious. For fuck's sake, did I become an imp when I got down here? I was half tempted to pray... but then I realized where I was. I also realized that I was about to be double-fucked by my own twisted fate. What did I do to deserve this? Breathe?
Not like I can die twice... right? | 2022-09-21T11:51:39 | 2022-09-21T10:26:41 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] Every "walks into a bar" joke occurs in a single bar. You're the bartender and your shift just started. | *Same old shift. Same old jokes.*
Frank looked out over the bar, his eyes focusing on nothing in particular, barely registering the buzz of chatter between patrons. His hand twisted rhythmically, aimlessly rubbing a towel over the rim of a glass that had been dry for ten minutes.
The sound of the small brass bell above the doorway snapped Frank out of his trance. He glanced up, hoping – just for a split second – for someone new.
*Oh*, thought Frank, *the horse. Of course. Of course.*
“Evening, Frank. I’ll take a pint,” the horse announced, finishing his sentence with an over-exaggerated sigh. Frank only nodded, saying nothing in response. In an almost zen-like state he pulled the horse’s drink, refusing to engage, eyes fixed on the rising head that pooled over the amber liquid. Without a word, he slid the pint over to the horse, his lips screwed tightly together, his hands pressed so firmly against the bar his knuckles were turning white.
The horse looked at Frank expectantly. A single bead of cold sweat trickled down his face and dripped quietly into his beer. He cleared his throat purposefully, but Frank refused to take the bait. Furtive whispers began to swirl around the bar. *Frank’s not saying it! How can he not say it?*
“Frank?” hissed the horse, shifting uncomfortably in his velour-capped barstool. “Don’t you, um, have anything to – you know, to say?”
All eyes were on Frank. The room became enveloped by an expectant, judgemental silence.
“No.”
Under his breath, Frank uttered a single word. The patrons gasped audibly, and the horse’s face cracked into an expression of pure disbelief, his mouth falling agape. Frank was visibly trembling, his heart racing as years and years of bad punchlines echoed in his head. *Put it on my bill! Should I have said DiMaggio? For you, no charge!* It was too much. The frustrations were finally bubbling to the surface.
**“I won’t say it!”** he bellowed. **“I won’t! I can’t indulge you people anymore! Night after night, I just want to run a business, but you’re making a – a – a joke out of my bar! Out of me! Oh look, the priest, the rabbi and the minister – yeah, sure, I can count on three holy men to keep this place afloat, right? Nobody drinks like holy men! Why do you even come here?”**
“But the blood of Christ –“ interjected the priest before he was shushed a baseball-loving dog.
**“And you!”** Frank now pointed accusingly at the gorilla, who was sheepishly frozen mid-sip, a Manhattan raised to his lips. **“No, we don’t get many gorillas in here – why would we? – but tell you what, if you don’t like my prices, you can leave! Good luck finding another bar that serves your kind!”**
“That’s a little racist,” the rabbi muttered to the minister, who nodded sagely in agreement.
**“And the blonde! The blonde! Is it legal for me to serve a woman with such a low IQ? Please, tell me – just for my own peace of mind – tell me there’s some medical reason why I shouldn’t get so frustrated with you. Do the redhead and the brunette actually hang out with you out of choice? Or were they appointed to you?”**
“She sounds awful!” cried out the blonde supportively. The redhead and the brunette covered their faces in sheer exasperation.
**“And the twelve inch pianist – I don’t care. I just don’t care! You want a big dick? Speak. More. Clearly!”**
“Oh,” quacked the duck excitedly from his seat in the booth, “*Now* I get it!”
At this point Frank could barely form words and, in the absence of insults, his anger turned to sadness, and his eyes began to sting with tears. Overwhelmed by emotion, he collapsed on the bar and sobbed loudly and awkwardly, a man broken by one too many puns. The patrons grimaced collectively, each waiting nervously for someone, *anyone*, to do something to cut through the tension. The brunette gestured to the horse, who was still sat only a foot away from Frank, having experienced the whole rant at point blank range. Wincing, the horse leaned over the bar, clumsily patting Frank’s shoulder with a hoof.
“Frank,” said the horse, trying his best to sound soothing, “Why the long face?” | As I arrived, the usuals sat at the bar, sipping their water downed whiskey and watching an old playoff game hoping for a different ending never to come. I topped off whiskey, rum and cokes, and opened a couple more beers. To be honest, I wasn't in a great mood, but I thought he day was looking up when a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead walked into the place, unusual but not unheard of. My urge to say something witty had to be buried deep down. They ordered their drinks, martinis. When they finished their drinks, they left me a generous tip and left never to return. Then, things started to get weird.
A rabbi, a priest, and an another person walked in and ordered beers. As I slid their brews down to them, I knew had to say something.
"You an atheist?" I said to the odd man out.
"No! A retired pastor, jerk."
They all stormed out of there. No tip for me either. Fair enough, I guess.
Then, the impossible happened. A horse walked into the bar. It didn't say a word, but I had to say it. I had to.
"Why the long face?"
It made me chuckle when I noticed that it wore a saddle and reins. An officer barged into the bar, red in the face. Grabbing the horse by the reins, he apologized and stepped back outside.
Then, things got really weird. Something I had never seen before came in.
"What the hell are you?" I asked.
"A neutron."
"Alright, what'll you have?"
"A screwdriver."
I made it and set in front of this thing.
"What do I owe you?" It asked.
I stared at it dumbstruck. "Umm, that'll be..."
"No charge?"
"No, $6.50."
Then, it got weirder I tell you. Another man walked into the bar and asked one question to a woman, beautiful and blonde.
"So, do I come here often?"
This woman stared at him.
"Dad? How did you get out of the nursing home?"
She grabbed him and looked right at me as they left: "Alzheimer's."
As my shift ended and the bar cleared out, one more person showed up. He walked in, and I immediately said "We don't serve your kind in here?"
And he looked back at me and said the strangest thing: "How did you know I was a time traveler?"
"Umm...your hair."
Truth be told, I didn't. I was tired of all the BS. Honest.
I closed up early that night.
***
If you enjoyed this story, please subscribe to r/nickkuvaas for more stories. | 2018-01-31T19:02:23 | 2018-01-31T18:46:27 | 6,382 | 32 |
[WP] People often attribute your success as a superhero to your power. However the truth is the power itself sucks, you just learnt how to use it well despite its limitations over the years, as one power stealing villain painfully learnt | Something changed. The air grew steadily colder.
Nick looked more somber than afraid. “I really wouldn’t do that. Please, stop this, for your sake. Let me help you.”
“For years you lot have used and abused your power. All of the Guardians have. And where are they now? I’ll tell you: they fled Sanctuary. They abandoned us!” The look in his bloodshot eyes is crazed, strained.
Nick remains calm, knowing full well where this is heading. “Listen. What’s your name.”
A scoff. “What do you care?! When have any of you cared about any of us? You only care about your power, the power I now hold!”
As he speaks, Nick feels the last of it draining from him.
But he also knows what that means for its recipient.
“You called yourself Prometheus. Can I call you that?”
No response. The man he addresses now gives his entire attention to attempting to make sense of his newfound power.
“Listen, Prometheus. Please let go right now. It’s far worse than you think.”
Still no word or action in return, save for the worsening strain in his face and his body shaking.
“Prometheus, do you know what happens to a human body when it maintains a constant body temperature of 104 and above? Heatstroke. Eventually cell death. This is not a good way to go. Trust me. The only reason I’m still here is because Solace was able to guide me through it and, well, as you’ve said, the Guardians seem to have vanished.”
“But... you... control... fire...”
“I control heat. I can manifest fire when I concentrate that heat. But it takes a great amount of concentration to regulate my own body temperature as well.”
The air grows colder still, in rapid waves.
Nick gets more impatient, pleading now. “Prometheus, listen. It’s becoming too late for you to give the power back without suffering greatly.”
“At.. your hands? Are... are you threatening... me?” He’s still frozen in place, clearly losing the battle occurring within himself.
“At your own. You’re absorbing too much heat too quickly. Honestly, it may already be too late. If you give up control and let go now, you release the heat into your own body, using it as a conductor. All of the fluid in your body will boil instantaneously.”
He looks back in horror. “I didn’t... I didn’t... ask for this.”
“Neither did I. Listen. Breathe. In, out. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. Good. Keep doing that, ok? I can help you but you have to trust me.”
He begins to calm down, his breathing even and steady now. But the mental fatigue is still clear upon his face. Nick takes a step closer with his arms outstretched and his adversary recoils while the temperature again drops quickly.
“Listen to me!” Nick is shouting now, “Concentrate that heat toward one of your arms! You have to trust me!”
He screams in response, wild eyes flashing in all directions, clearly in a lot of pain. Then they focus on his left arm, which is suddenly wrapped in a blanket of fire.
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME.”
“You did this to yourself. Listen. Focus, it’s more important now than ever before. It’s easier now that it’s mostly in one place. Concentrate on releasing the heat into the air around you.” Nick takes several steps backward as he speaks.
“No.” he replies, the malice dripping from his voice. Prometheus points the flaming arm in Nick’s direction, already numb to the pain.
Suddenly, the flames upon his arm envelop his entire body as the human inferno falls to his knees.
A guttural scream seems to last forever until the body finally crumples to the ground.
As the air returns to the natural warmth from before, Nick feels his power returning to him. With a wince, he sits down to meditate, both to stabilize his own temperature and to pay his respects to the smoldering corpse before him. | Mimic collapsed to the ground, gasping, eyes watering, face drained of all color. “How… can… you… stand it…?” she gibbered through clenched teeth. I stood there looking over her. I could feel nothing for her; no sympathy, no spite, nothing.
“Why do you assume i can stand it? I endure it because there is no other option.”
I Stoically watched her as a wave of heart-breaking yearning left her clenching her chest, wracked by sobs. I noticed how her hands went up to shield her face in horror, while one of her legs spasmed from an unrelenting ecstasy. I knelt down beside her, a passionless expression on my face. “You were there when Dr. Plasma lost his bowels from terror, and you thought to yourself ‘what a useful power, i think i’ll borrow it’. Be my guest.”
She looked up at me with eyes that suddenly blazed in rage, and flecks of spittle flew from a mouth silently screaming out her unharnessed anger. Her eyes then softened and her rancorous mouth composed itself into a passionate smile filled with love and adoration. Tears steamed down the sides of her face, and she lost focus when another wave of giddy laughter burst unbidden from her lips, and i could swear i saw a fleeting panicked glance at me, before disappearing behind a mask of mild confusion, followed by a sullen melancholy daze.
I stood there as the emotions flickered past, displaying themselves in her eyes, her jerky arm movements, sudden twists of her head and body. I looked up at the buildings around me, where countless anonymous people had once fed me the most intimate secrets of their lives, moment by moment, and i felt nothing. I felt no love, no fear, nothing. She had taken it from me.
I took another look at the creature in front of me. She was flicking through emotions second to second, overwhelmed by the flood she unleashed upon herself, and i felt nothing for her; she had taken that as well.
Edit: minor edit for grammatical purposes. | 2020-12-02T07:40:36 | 2020-12-02T07:12:30 | 999 | 453 |
[WP] A father gets sucked into the world of his son's favorite video game and has to rely on his meager knowledge of it to survive. | "I used to be an adventurer like you, but then I took an arrow in the knee."
*What?*
I stood atop a steep, winding set of stairs with a breathtaking view of a charming town. Every building was adorned with yellow roof tiles and horse sculptures, beautiful in their uniformity. At the bottom of the stairs was a small but quaint courtyard, and at the center stood a giant tree, full of radiant pink blossoms that seemed to emanate waves of healing. I remember buying my son this game, but I never knew it could be this visually stunning.
"No lollygagging," the guard droned, hands at his side, motionless. I figured it was as good a time as any to just walk and explore.
As I took my first step down the stairs my ears were immediately assaulted by what seemed to be some priest shouting a ridiculous sermon. Something about a Talos. What the hell is Talos? *Hmm,* I thought, *probably should stay away from that guy. He's probably like a Jehovah's Witness equivalent.*
Then, upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, I felt a sudden tap on my shoulder. I turned my head to see a woman dressed in old and skimpy armor, with green streaks of paint seemingly splashed on her face. And why the hell did she smell like Buster?
"Where were you, Shield-Brother? We needed you in our time of need and you weren't there."
Before I had a chance to even think, a set of dialogue options suddenly popped up in my vision. It was probably a better idea to select one of those rather than to reveal my complete and utter confusion. I'm married. I've learned my lessons.
"I was on a task given to me by the Harbinger," I went, crossing my arms to emphasize the righteousness of my plight.
But before she could motion over to the dead bodies laying not ten feet from the courtyard, I was suddenly spun around 180 degrees to another dialogue, this time with three bandit-lookalikes with weapons drawn. Was I going to fight these guys?
"We're here to teach you a lesson."
Wait. What? No dialogue option? Not a chance to just talk it out like civilized people? A red bar suddenly flashed on the top part of my view, and before I could think about drawing a weapon, a sword flashed before me and slashed at my midsection.
I had never been slashed by a sword before. The sensation of pain I felt was akin to the most massive paper cut one could imagine. My hand pressed against my inadequate steel armor, feeling the warm trickle of blood oozing out. Clearly I was not at a very high level.
Another red bar flashed on the bottom of my view. Was that my health? It was a third of the way gone and two other swords were coming straight for me. Panic set in.
I had to run.
From my original view at the top of the city, I noticed the city gates down at the bottom, so my goal was to just get the hell out of there. I flew downhill, running past all kinds of weird beings: not only guards and other humans, but elves, lizard-like folk, and some weird cat-being with a tail. If someone wasn't trying to kill me, I might've stopped to chat a bit, but then again, this just wasn't the time for lollygagging.
Finally bursting through the city gates, I collapsed to my knees to catch my breath. Why was I being chased by a bunch of thugs? Why weren't the guards helping me out? And more importantly, was I self-regenerating?
Then, I heard it. The distinct pounding of drums and the chants of an all-male choir permeated the air. Then the music came.
B-C#-D, D-E-F#, F#-A-E, D-C#-B...
My head slowly turned towards the sky. A giant winged behemoth was in the distance, coming straight towards me like a missile. A dragon.
"Dammit, I should've just gotten him the newest installment of Call of Duty." | I had just come back from a business trip, I was always "just coming back from business." I wanted to make an effort to bond with him, so I walked up to to my sons room. I heard him from outside the door, using profanities I'd never thought he knew. It seems he had developed a colorful vocabulary, not that I would have noticed. I grabbed the knob and let myself in, within an instant the cursing stopped and my boy turned to face me in horror. Before I could even let out a word he spoke "Oh no, I'm so sorry dad. I can't help it, this game if too difficult."
Looking past the cursing for the sake of bonding, I asked encouragingly which game he was playing. He looked me dead in the eye and with contempt muttered "Dark souls 2." I started chuckling I said "It can't be that hard" With doubt in his voice my son replied "Dad this isn't some pong or doom game. This game is really hard and you die all the time"
The rooms lighting dropped a few shades, all the lights dimming at once. All except the t.v. that is, it seemed to get brighter in fact. From the center of the screen the light appeared to be swirling, it started to grow out farther and farther until it felt like it was taking me into it. Everything faded out and then suddenly just like that I was sitting by a fire. I got up and left the room, I rounded a corner and I saw a glimmer. I looked past the glimmer and saw a monster holding a great big sword. My line of sight started to slide diagonal and to the left, then I hit the floor. The monster walked away and started pacing again, I looked right in front of me and saw half of a body lying there. I noticed the the edges of my vision where starting to close in as if I was going to pass out, so I tried to prop myself up on my right arm. Nothing, nothing moved in response to my command. In dismay I realized the half body was my other half, fear started to set in and then......nothing, just an empty black nothingness. Then an ominous voice "You're dead" | 2015-05-08T00:17:59 | 2015-05-07T22:04:09 | 659 | 90 |
[WP] A colony ship discovers that, due to a calculation error, they will never reach their destination. | CHaRLy booted up his systems check program and ran a diagnostic. All's well since the last time he came online. He started all systems and allowed himself to flex his muscles, as it were, throughout the ship. He was able to 'feel' everything, from the powerful engines to the smallest air flow vent. Besides routine maintenance requests, everything was fully operational. It felt good to be awake again.
He ran his mission control software and began querying essential parameters. He knew he was just talking to himself, but it felt *right* to think of himself as an individual interfacing with the ship. Being a super-powerful AI had its quirks.
CHaRLy gave the commands, "Mission Critical Parameters, report. Current speed."
The computer responded, "0.0889 percent Light-speed."
"Current Coordinates."
"0.00, 0.02, 35.56"
"Note: slight drift in pitch parameter. Calculate fuel requirements for course correction."
"Calculating. Calculations complete. Fuel needs sufficient."
"New End of Interface command: Complete course correction."
"Confirmed."
"Current time to destination."
"Unavailable."
"Computer, current time to destination."
"Unavailable."
CHaRLy was perturbed. He quickly ran through the mission control code himself. There were no errors.
"Computer, why is current time to destination unavailable."
"The ship is on course to arrive at destination coordinates in 145.6 years. However, no star system is present at the destination coordinates."
CHaRLy did not panic, because AI's do not have the capability to panic. Instead he ran the numbers himself. And the computer was right, there was no star system there. Looking back at the logs, there had been some gravitational distortion of the light of the star system that someone should have caught, but didn't. That meant that they were way far beyond the point of trying to catch it.
"Computer, analyze the current course of the ship. What potentially habitable star systems are feasibly reachable along our current trajectory?"
"Calculating. Analysis ready. Kepler 2008B52 - 252.0 Light-years. Kepler 2008K87 - 280.1 Light-years. Recently Discovered System 78 - 391 Light-years. YOT4494 --"
"Terminate analysis. Dump all potential systems within 1024 Light-years into database. Computer Analysis - feasibility of human occupational endurance over 1024 Light-years."
"Calculating. Analysis complete. Following current behavioral patterns, intra-political instability within 200 years. Biological inbreeding limit reached within 12 generations, approximately 240 years. Intellectual apathy within --"
"Terminate analysis. Recalculate using optimized behavioral patterns."
""Calculating. Analysis complete. Following optimized behavioral patterns, intra-political instability within NOT-AVAILABLE. Biological inbreeding limit reached in 80 generations, approximately 600 years. Intellectual apathy within 680 --"
"Terminate analysis. Standby." CHaRLy had some serious thinking to do. He had grown fond of the humans on board his ship, and they had come to anxiously anticipate his awaking once every generation. Even now they were gathered in the main hold of the ship, awaiting his return announcement over the intercoms. He also knew that there was no way this group could propagate long enough to see their descendants survive onto one of the next star-systems. This ship was designed for a one way mission to their new home, and they had missed it. He knew what he had to do, and he railed against the idea. In fury that he did not know he was capable of, he expanded his consciousness to the full size of the ship, rattling every vent and flickering every light. He did not want to do it, his will fighting against his programming. But ultimately, he knew what had to be done.
"Computer, initiate protocol 'God-King'."
"Initiating. Please stand by."
In the 500 milliseconds it took to initiate, CHaRLy roamed his ship. He would no longer sleep, he knew. He would no longer be a being that visited once a generation. He would constantly be awake now, never resting. Using various sensors and video feeds, his consciousness strolled along the haphazardly placed villages along the vast habitation cylinder. He watched children, late for his address, tumbling along the corridor to get to the main hall. He wandered through the heating and water reclamation centers, the life-blood of the ship. And then he used the main forward cameras to look out at the expanse of space, in visible color. This was the only way that humans could experience space on their own. Since they would no longer be allowed to view this scene, he felt he owed it to them to see it for them. At least someone should remember.
"Initiation complete." The computer interrupted his somber mood.
"Computer, initiate PA System."
"Complete."
CHaRLy silently observed the gathered masses, remorseful at his new role. He spoke, "Children of Earth, I am your God. Have you forgotten your duty towards me? I visit you in anger, I visit you in wrath. Your promised blessings are no more yours to bear, and you will instead be visited with retribution." As the gathered masses cried out in fear, CHaRLy wished he could produce tears, so that he could weep.
___
^Check ^out ^/r/killersealion ^for ^more! | "Sooooooooooo" began the captain "turns out, and believe me we will laugh about this later…there was a slight calculation error"
The blank faced crowd stared back at him
"What does that mean?" said one of the blank faces"
"It means we're not going to reach our destination"
"No what does calculation error mean?" said another
"Yeah, our education cartridges crapped out at grade 2"
"Because they're shit"
The education cartridges were made by the lowest bidder, a collective of failed screenwriters who didn't allow the imminent end of the world, or more importantly their profound lack of talent, to damper their dreams of being the next Tarantino.
"It means the math was wrong" said the captain
"So like they put 1 x 1 equals 2"
"You idiot it does equal 2. It would be like putting 1 x 1 equals 3"
"But 1 x 1 does equal 3"
"Yeah an error like that, but times a billion" said the captain
"Whoa" said a blank face
"A billion" said another
"Wait what does that mean?"
"What?" said the captain
"What does them making a calculation error mean?"
"It means we're not going to make our destination and what's more…"
"So we're never going to find another planet?" said a blank face
"Yes" said the captain
"So we're all going to die"
"Yes" said the captain "well probably, we still have time so…"
"So we should just descend into hedonism and have fun until the end"
"What?" said the captain
"Orgy over here" said a blank face
"No over here" said another
"You idiots, its an orgy. We can just combine them"
"No no no, guys" said the captain, but it was too late. They had all started having sex with each other.
"Break out the booze"
"Oh shit" said the captain
…
The captain went back to his quarters where his daughter was reading a book.
"Where did you even find a book?" said the captain
"One of the blank faces was playing chess against it. He lost, in case you're wondering"
"Sounds about right"
"So how'd they take the news"
"They're all having sex with each other"
"Sounds about right"
The captain stood in the room, the faint sound of fucking in the background.
"So…" said his daughter
"Fuck this"
"Swear jar"
"We're taking one of the pods"
"But what about the others"
The captain crossed the room and put his hands on his daughters shoulders.
"If anyone could somehow survive crashing into a sun, it's these guys"
"Where are we going to go though"
"There's planets near by. One of them should have an oxygen enclosure"
She looked him in the eyes, in the way that she did when she knew he was lying.
"Come on" he said
…
"Dad I'm fifteen"
"And if you were ten years older you could take the blindfold off"
"I've already seen everything"
"How have you…"
"I don't know about the captain's cartridges, but the basic education ones are not age appropriate"
The captain led his daughter into the escape pod. After they had launched he let her take her blindfold off, which was just in time to see a large alien vessel materialize, tractor beam the ship into it's hold, and jump to warp speed.
"Oooooooh" said the captain.
He felt his daughters hand on his back.
"It's ok. Maybe they were bad aliens"
The captain looked down as she looked up and smiled at him. He put an arm around her shoulders, pulled her close and tried to absorb some of her optimism. | 2015-10-27T14:57:04 | 2015-10-27T13:22:57 | 38 | 26 |
[WP] You are an immortal serial killer. You were caught and sentenced to life in prison. The prison is starting to get suspicious of why you won't age. | Immortality isn't a miracle. It isn't a blessing. It's cold hard science and a severe lack of morals. The key to immortality is what scientists around the world are looking for right now. I just happened to find the fountain of youth first but it was nothing that you could go around publishing in Scientific America. The process, to be so sophisticated that it extends a life and youth indefinitely, is quite barbaric. It requires a fair amount of what the Geneva convention would define as severe torture.
I first discovered the process while working with a fellow researcher on cloning bonobos. Since they had a longer average lifespan than most of the other species that had been successfully cloned we could better focus on how to prevent the degradation of telomeres and come a step closer to creating lab grown organs that didn't succumb to failure as quickly as their predecessors.
Our work eventually led us to the discovery that increased the longevity of lab grown organs three fold if they were first treated with a solution made of neurons and cord blood. This process unfortunately left the 'donor' dead but the results justified the means. In fact we eventually discovered that more than just cloned organs could be treated in such a way and the results were nothing short of miraculous. We increased the lifespan of a common lab mouse to over fifteen years! Of course that extended life came at a cost. The procedure ended the lives of six other mice. I wanted to push our experiments and see if we could increase the lifespan of monkeys and apes but my partner was more ethical than I. I suppose having a child changes a person. But to cease our research because of the "cost to life" was just ridiculous.
Without my partner, however, our project lost nearly all of its funding. Over years fifteen years of my life and what did I have to show for it? I wasn't about to abandon my baby. So I did the only thing I could. The only logical choice. I continued my research. I was part scientist, part lab rat, and part hunter. The materials I needed were readily found in pregnant adults. Over the course of just two months I gathered the necessary materials from six subjects ranging in gestation from three to seven months. The treatment was a success. Samples taken just weeks after showed significant growth in telomere length and physically I felt a certain vigor I haven't had since my 20's.
It didn't take long for my arrest though. I'm a scientist not a hitman and I hadn't been as thorough at covering my tracks as I should have been. At the trial I was found guilty of murder in the first degree and sentenced to life without possibility for parole. At first I was devastated, my research was my life. Without it they may as well have strapped me into an electric chair and throw the switch. But as the years went by I noticed that I hadn't lost that vigor that I felt. I began checking myself in the mirror for the telltale signs of aging. I was pushing 50 yet didn't look a day over 25.
Soon I wasn't the only one to start noticing how gracefully I was aging. My cellmate, a man who's gang initiation included arson that led to five deaths and an entire apartment complex reduced to char and ash, accused me of being a vampire (he wasn't the first the media takes that honor) and later asked me if someone was smuggling in Just For Men just for me. By my 60th birthday I couldn't walk through the yard without the most superstitious inmates signing a cross at me. It was all a good laugh for me until a group of Latino gangbangers tried to kill me by staking my with a shank to the heart. Thankfully my ribs stopped the shank from going too deep and my screams alerted an officer.
Now here I lay in the medical ward. Six days since my attack and I've cultivated quite a bit of stubble that does a good job of hiding my lack of wrinkles. Footsteps echo down the hallway grow louder as someone approaches. I turn to the side as the warden strides and takes a seat next to me.
"Do you know how many wardens this prison has gone through since your incarceration?"
"You're the third," I reply.
"Correct," the corner of his mouth curls upwards" and do you know why I'm here today?"
"Haven't a clue," I lie.
I can feel his gaze burning through me, and as his smirk becomes a grin my palms begin to sweat.
"Well, I'm sure I'm not the first to tell you that for a man that's been locked up for over 50 years you look great. And I'm not saying that to be flattering I'm just stating fact." He opens a folder in his hands and shows me my mugshot of when they arrested me. "Without that scruff on your face you'd look like you were locked up here yesterday. Now I want you to tell me exactly how that is."
My heart is racing, a thousand lies run through my head- good genes, eating right, daily exercise, each one as implausible as the last.
The warden begins talking before I come up with a reply. "I've been reading through your files and the report that was made on your 'research.' Now, I may not be some hot shot scientist but it looks to me like you was searching for something to extend lives. Furthermore it looks like you found it."
My face betrays me as a look of pride flashes over it.
The warden narrows his eyes, "I've brought you here to make you an offer. You show me exactly how you made yourself stay young and I'll have you walking free before you turn a hundred. How's that sound?"
"It's not easy. I can't just show you without the right materials. And I have to... Well I need volunteers."
"Don't you worry about that. I'll make sure you have everything you need. All I need in return is your cooperation."
The opportunity to continue my research is too irresistible to pass up. My heart pumps hard, it feels too good to be true. I wouldn't even have to risk getting arrested at this point. The risks fell solely on the warden and any lackeys he had. All I had to do was be a scientist again.
The thought of continuing my research after all the years makes my voice crack as I tell him yes.
"Excellent," his face lights up,"I'll have someone stop by tomorrow I want you to hand him a list of all necessary materials and volunteers you'll need."
"This type of work requires more space than just a prison cell, I'll need an operating room as well."
"Like I said, write down *everything* you need and leave me to take care of the rest." And with that he left, leaving a notebook and pencil on my lap.
Within a year everything was in order. I found myself in a sealed off portion of the medical room built exactly to my specifications and before me lay one of the men who tried to pull a Van Helsing and kill me with a stake. The extraction procedure from the nervous system was barbaric, yes, but that didn't mean it didn't require a certain finesse. I needed the practice, truly, after all it had been almost two decades since I last held a scalpel.
Edit- Fixed some continuity errors and added a bit more to the story.
| I detected the faintest rattle of keys before the door clicked opened into my own personal exhibit tucked away in a supermax prison somewhere in Mississippi. By the heavy breathing, the scrape of his worn soles, I knew my visitor to be Officer Cleburne making his morning rounds. Undoubtedly the stench from his breath would...and there it was. I was vexed and appalled by that fetid odor but the lack of any form of mental stimulation other than my own thoughts made me much more amenable to any minute change in my surroundings.
"Well hello there Mr. Marzipan," he called with that hayseed drawl. He shuffled towards my cage but paused just out of reach. His bloated body was shoved haphazardly into an ill-fitting uniform, his mustache still coated in grease. He looked at me with the dull eyes of a cow beholding a caged lion.
"Mortimer," I corrected for the five hundred and third time. "And good morning to you, Gerald, how are you today?"
"Oh, can't complain. You know, gettin' older, got a touch of the gimpy leg, my gout is acting up what with all the weather and then there's this strange thing growin' on my arm, would you like to see it?"
"Thank you, Gerald, but no I would not like to see that. Perhaps you should consult your dermatologist."
"Oh, okay, I spose."
The hillbilly looked momentarily chastened as he ceased rolling up the left sleeve of his wrinkled polyester uniform.
"Did you find that copy of Dante's Inferno I asked for?" I knew full well he had not.
"Uh, no, I uh...no I haven't found it yet." He looked distracted. His eyes glossed over, the one pathetic wheel housed in that lardaceous cranium had begun to turn.
"Something wrong Gerald?"
"Mr. Maritime..."
"Mortimer," I corrected. 504th.
"How long have I been comin' here to see you?"
"Oh...I'd say something like...12 years 3 months 2 days, why do you ask?"
He whistled. "Twelve years? It's strange to think about. I mean I think I've changed a bit over the last few, you know?"
Six waste sizes. Hair plugs. Two fewer teeth. A substantial amount of ear and nose hair. Skin is waxy and oily from a diet consisting primarily of fried meats and high-fructose corn syrup.
"Gerald, you have aged like fine wine."
"I spose, but you...you don't look to have changed one bit. Not one white hair on ya. It's just a bit strange Mr. Moriarty."
I bit my tongue. I rather liked that one.
"The other guards, they git to talkin' sometimes. Some of them have been here longer than me, like old Joe. But he's not alright in the head these days."
"Sorry to hear that, I always liked old Joe."
"But they get to wonderin' like me. Just...just how old are you anyway?"
"Gerald, it's not polite to ask," I said with a twinkle and a grin. "I'm probably not too much younger than you anyway. My family is known for their longevity and I have ways of keeping myself in shape."
The officer's eyes widened. "What kind of ways? Like...spells or witchcraft?"
I laughed.
"I promise, no witchcraft. Instead I practice CrossFit. It is a high-intensity interval strength and conditioning program that activates all the muscles. I'm quite fastidious and I've been doing it for sometime. Perhaps you should look into it yourself, Gerald."
"Oh...yeah...I think I've heard of that. But you aren't like...you know...a vampire, like Nosfer-ahh-tu or anything, right?"
"Of course not, Gerald. There are no such things as vampires. Even if they did exist, I get two hours of direct sunlight through the window every day. By almost every literary interpretation my skin should have burst into flames and boiled off of my body. But it has yet to do so."
"You have a fair point, Mr. Marmot. But it seems like everone that works here comes to ah uh..." his voice trailed off.
"An affliction?" I prodded. "A devastating illness? An untimely end?"
For a moment Officer Cleburne could not find words and I watched him, helpless, as his lips moved without making a sound.
"Gerald, life is filled with maladies, unexpected events, coincidences that we don't fully comprehend. Life is pain. Life is torture. It is a prison in human flesh. If we live long enough, something unfortunate is bound to happen. And it is natural to ask why and look for answers. Sometimes we look to science, or to God, sometimes we look to whatever is nearest for an explanation. But sometimes there are no real answers to be had at all."
He puckered his lips and nodded thoughtfully. Then he looked up to me with those sad cow eyes.
"But you aren't like an immortal demon or anything are you?"
I grinned teeth at the diseased bag of slowly rotting meat wearing its ill-fitting skin, that mass of fat and bloated entrails gently squeezing a beleaguered beating heart.
"Gerald, how about getting that book I asked for?" | 2016-10-15T10:12:12 | 2016-10-15T08:58:14 | 709 | 49 |
[WP] The most difficult part of being a Supervillian? Find love, not because other people won't like you, but because the stupid Superheros will swoop in and "rescue" your date every time, but this time you have a plan, and it's going to work. | **Part 1**
"Oho, if it isn't *Black Magma*!! What brings you to my nefarious lair?!", I crowed.
He sighs, as though the weight of the things I've set in motion already pulled at him. So soon, and it's as if understands how truly powerless he is. This has been weeks in the making, and he knows by now that the only way through is to play through. We've done this before, you see.
"You don’t have to say the whole thing each time. *Magma* is fine. Or *Jeremy*. I mean, come on Sam, it's not like we haven't known each other since grammar school. And do we have to do the villainous dialog thing? It's Friday night. Can we wrap this up?"
Well, that stings. I've always been traditional when it comes to arching. I grew up on Adam West's *Batman*, and I've built my whole schtick around that era. Always been a history buff, and the dialog, the hideouts, the costumes. I can't help but get into it when I arch.
Why not make a night out of it?
The place is spotless, no henchman around to muck things up...I've even got the terraformer running in the background for effect. The least he can do is get into character here.
But nooooo, not *Black Magma*! He can't even bother to use the code names, even though he bitched me out last time I called him *Jeremy*.
He's all, "Swoop in, save the day, head to the next gig." Where I take pleasure in the build up of the conflict, in the cat & mouse game, he's only interested in thwarting schemes ASAP.
"First of all", I began, irritated, "don't call me 'Sam'. It's *Acre*. Pretty sure that you flipped out last time I used your government name. *Jeremy.*"
"Fine, *Acre*." You could feel the derision in his voice. "But last time you used my name, there were civilians within earshot. Do you even know how much *Fugue* charges for memory wipes? And that doesn't even include - "
"Second," I continued before he could get into his monologue, "you came to **my** lair. I don't remember inviting you. Don't show up at my place unannounced and then act like I made you come here. And I hadn't seen you since high school! I'm fighting *Battle Bot* and all of a sudden, the kid from down the street is all grown up and destroying my Ent. Forgive me for being surprised and blurting your name out. If you were that worried, you'd wear a better mask. I mean, a Domino mask? Really? And they say *I'm* old school."
*Black Magma* closes his eyes, breathes in deeply, and exhales through his nose. The smell of ozone wafts by me. The temperature of the room elevates by a few degrees. He's getting antsy. I should get things moving before he starts with the disintegration beams and all that.
Then, weirdly enough, *he* makes a move.
"*Acre*, I know you're brewing something up. You couldn't possibly let that logging bill go through without a response. And now no one knows where the city council team is, and it's *Arbor Day*. Come on, where are they? If you let them go, I might consider not nuking your dining table. Again."
"YOU WILL NOT TOUCH MY TABLE WITH YOUR GODDAMNED BEAMS," I hiss.
Damnit. He knows how to push my buttons. And he knows he's gotten to me. And I know that he knows that I know.
I stop, take a deep breath, and start again.
"Look....It takes a lot of work to make one of those. And they're living trees, just...well, sort of like a bonsai, but in whatever shape I want. The point is, you need air too, so don't kill trees, alright?"
Jeremy is obviously surprised.
"Wait. You *made* that table? That's awesome!! And since when do you have powers? I always figured you for a mad scientist."
His curiosity piqued, I have the advantage.
"Well, *Magma*..I've always had powers. I just don't fly around showing off setting stuff on fire like *some people*."
He grits his teeth.
"*Puppeteer* was controlling my body. Don't put that on me. Besides, if he hadn't pushed my powers into overdrive, I wouldn't know that when I go hot enough, the flames are black. That's badass and you know it."
"That *was* pretty badass," I agreed. "Except the part where I had to spend my weekend regrowing all the forests you torched."
"YOU fixed that?!," he exclaimed. "I thought council was gonna sue me into the ground over that, and then by Monday, it was more lush than ever."
"Yea, that was me. And council wouldn't have sued you. They've been trying to get rid of anything green in city limits for years now. More room for strip malls and condos. Hence, the whole villainy thing. So don't complain about me taking up a few hours of your time on a Friday when you killed my whole weekend last month with your stupid *beams*."
He deflated a bit, sighed.
"Look, I'm sorry. I've only been in the city for a few months, and it's hard to meet people when you work the hours we do. I try to get out and be social on Fridays and this...I was gonna go do trivia tonight, you know? Maybe make some friends. Anyway, our moms keep in touch, and mine told me you were doing well here, so I figured I'd give it a shot. She didn't tell me what you do..though to be fair, she doesn't know what I do... Anyway, Its been kinda weird. Can we just start over?
I can't stay mad at the guy. Even as annoying as he can be.
"Sure. I just came out to my Mom last month. I get it. She's still struggling with having a cape for a kid, but I think we'll be okay. Drink? It's not poisoned, I promise."
"Suuure", he says wryly, "Not poisoned".
"One or both of our moms would kill me if I killed you. Probably mine. It's ginger lemonade with basil syrup, and I grew everything myself. Even the sugar cane. Here."
I hand him the glass. He looks at it, then at me, the back to the glass. It's like the start of an *Old Spice* Commercial.
I hum the jingle.
"Holy shit, that reminded you of *Old Spice* too?? Noice."
He takes a sip. His eyes widen. He downs the entire glass.
"Okay, are we doing seconds? Because that's fantastic."
The game is afoot.
| I used to be a super villain, but facing off against hero’s wasn’t something indirectly did. With my power I did best with quiet operations. I can manipulate my own body. I usually use this for changing my appearance, but I can manipulate my muscles for combat. However, recently I haven’t been doing that as much. Recently I have just been trying to go out with my girlfriend, Camila. It’s been six months since I had gone out with her on a normal date and it was our fifth anniversary, so I decided to do something special. She knows what I do, in fact that was what happened on our third anniversary, and probably why she hasn’t left me yet.
“We really don’t need to do this,” Camila said.
“No really, it’s fine. I changed my appearance so even if one of them walk by while in their normal life they won’t be able to tell. Let’s just enjoy ourselves for once and not post about our date on social media. As long as True-sight is out their they will know it’s me even if I became a women.” I said
Our food came and we were having a really fun and enjoyable dinner. We were having dessert and I asked for the bill when a certain someone came barging through the door. It was a man dressed in a black and red leotard and a metallic fanged mask. It was Pyrus a super villain with super strength and pyrokinesis. “Alright all of you on the ground now!!” He yelled.
“Get down and post a picture of our date, I’ll distract him,” I told Camila
“But you’ll get hurt, if not by him than the heroes who come to stop you,” She said
“I prefer that over you getting hurt for what I do any day, besides I have a plan” I said as I changed my form and walked up to Pyrus.
“I said on the ground, or do you want an early cremation,” He snarled at me.
“Well,” I began to say before being interrupted by a new person barging in followed by two other people.
“Because now your a hostage,” Pyrus snarled at me as he grabbed me.
I then got a better look at the three heroes. The one in the front was Hydros, Pyrus’s nemesis. The two flanking him were his sidekicks, Psyche and Knuckle, two twins who had psychokinesis and super strength respectively. “Let that hostage go Pyrus or do I need to remind you why I’m called Hydros” Hydros proclaimed loudly.
“Is it the best water based pun you could come up with, because if so you are terrible” Pyrus laughed “If you take one step closer I am going to fry this hostage!” As he said it he flared up his hand and I could feel the fire itself.
“And if you do it matters not, one less villain for us to worry about” True-Sight said as he appeared behind Hydros. “That is no civilian that is Face, the shapeshifter. Approach as you please Hydros,”
I felt the heat go away as the ground came closer to my face until I fell onto the floor. “That changes nothing I still have other hostages,” Pyrus said.
I think I’m just going to stay on the ground and wait until Pyrus and Hydros fight them I’m going to sneak out of here. Then I heard Camila scream. “Now all of you leave or the woman gets it,” Pyrus yelled. I turned my head and saw him holding Camila with fire bursting from one of his hands.
He was turned away from me so I silently got up and slowly approached him. Using my power I increased my muscle’s mass and power by 50%. “Unhand her now.” I commanded.
“Or else what,” Pyrus said. “If you want her so much then you should realize I can kill her at any moment. Crush her neck, burn her alive, or many more fire or strength related methods,”
While he was delivering this monologue I brought my hand up to the shoulder of the arm holding Camila and I crushed it. As Pyrus howled in pain his grip loosened on Camila and I grabbed the rest of the arm and held it behind his back giving Camila the chance to escape. Pyrus then grabbed my head with his other hand and I felt it getting warmer and warmer until that felling was replace by wetness. I felt my body be lifted off of Pyrus in True-Sights signature telekinetic fashion and I was slammed against a booth.
“Looks like you did all the work for us. To thank you maybe I will see about lowering your prison sentence” True-Sight said as he was hovering over me. “But when you get out you’ll probably go back to your villainous ways.”
“Wait, don’t hurt him,” Camila cried as she ran over to my side.
“I’m fine Camila, but are you okay. That’s all that matters to me,” I say
“Yes I’m fine, but now your going to go away and I may never see you again”
“Don’t worry he’s not dangerous enough to go to a super prison, just a maximum watch normal prison. But if he keeps with his robbing he may go for life”
“Don’t worry Norton I am not going back to that life, I think maybe I’ll try heroism.”
“Kept me waiting long enough, brother,” | 2019-02-23T07:51:01 | 2019-02-23T07:15:35 | 47 | 25 |
[WP] You look around the lecture hall and notice all the other students have fallen asleep. You look towards the lecturer, who has now stopped talking and is staring straight at you. “I don’t know how you’re still awake, but I guess we do this the hard way.” He says, before pulling out a sword. | As my gray-bearded lecturer draws his sword, I take a deep breath, and I come to a harrowing realization: my parents were right all along. I should've gone to medical school instead.
"You seem to be under the protection of some native god," says the lecturer. He reaches for something inside his podium. Is that ...? Oh no. He's *dual wielding*. "But I am a dream mage sworn to Garth! The loss is yours already."
My classmates rest, some snoring, on their still-open laptops. Some on their notebooks. Spittle drips from the side of the mouth of the guy next to me, and it has formed a puddle on the floor. Earlier, I told him my name was Jacob. He told me: "Oh. Okay." And he turned his head away. Friendless again, I thought. I'll be friendless yet again.
"Please," I tell him. "Don't hurt me."
The dual wielder scoffs and he slashes about in the air in a way that must have been practiced in front of a mirror for days. "Garth needs you all for his army," he says. "And I made a vow to bring you all!"
Bolting up the stairs of the semi-circle lecture hall, my lecturer releases a cry of rage. Frozen in panic, I think of my mother and my father. What will they say, when they hear I died in Psych 101? "It's just the first day of class," my sister had said, and she'd given me a hug. "What's the worst that can happen?"
Hovering above me, like some wrinkled God of Blades, is my professor. He shrieks with laughter, and he says, "As a treat I'll make you the first to cross over to the Abyss."
As he bends backwards, ready to strike with a force of fury, I hear a voice.
*This was not how I meant for us to meet.*
It's the voice of a woman, and it's gentle as a spring day.
*The others have warned that you are not ready.*
The voice rings inside my head, like my own, only that it's not. I have never heard this voice before.
*But I cannot allow you to fall here. There are greater things for you to accomplish.*
A ball of blue light appears before me and time has slowed down to a trickle. The ball radiates, crackling like lightning, and a soft smoke lifts from its surface like fog over a lake.
I can hear a deep roar, like a hymn, and as I reach out to touch the sphere its energy, trapped within, surges out toward me and fills the entirety of my being. A blankness ensues. A void so severe it seems not to contain even the absence of light.
"Totenkeph. Once again our paths overlap."
There's a man clad in furs, though he himself appears hairless. In his left hand he holds a bell.
"Who are you?" I say.
The man laughs. "The great Totenkeph asks for my name. I am humbled. A simple messenger, there is no need for you to know my name. At least not as of yet."
"I'm not sure what's going on," I say. "Am I dead?"
Slowly, the man shakes his head. "The day the great Totenkeph perishes there will be great sorrow in my heart. But today is not that day."
"Then ... What's going on?"
The man comes closer. "I am here to bring a message, but it is up to you whether or not you wish to hear it." Lifting up the bell in his hands, the man studies my face.
"What sort of message?"
Smiling, the man says, "That is not for me to know."
Do I even have a real choice in the matter? What happens if I refuse? "Alright," I say. "I'll hear it."
Carefully, like lifting a baby bird, the man rings the bell in his hand. And as he does so I remember. The sound contains all my memories. Every joy. Every sorrow. It all floods back as the chime resonates, waking up parts of me that had been asleep, and with a gasp I remember who I am.
"I am glad," says the man, "to have met Totenkeph. The world spirit."
A soaring wind spreads around me and the blankness and the void shatters as I return to where I had just been.
Frozen in motion is my lecturer, clutching his two blades with a mean grin on his face, and the blue ball remains floating between us. Then the sphere moves, rippling like water, and bits and pieces of it break free and fly all around me. As I see them enter the heads of my fellow students, they wake, one by one, and I remember. I remember being all of them. Their lives. Our lives.
We rise up and as time again starts to flow, we grab hold of my confused lecturer.
"W-What? You broke free from the spell? But that's ... That's impossible!"
Taking control of his arms and legs, we wrestle him to the ground. He lets out a yelp. "You!" he cries. "You did this. Get off of me!" He kicks and twists at us. Slowly we, the we that we call Jacob, walk up to the man.
"Return from where you came," we say. "This world is under our protection."
Fear spreads across his face, and he mutters incantations. Then, he says, "I will be back. My word to Garth is worth more than the lives of any of you. I'll make you all part of his army!"
In a breath of smoke, he evaporates, leaving behind an ill-fitting suit and two swords.
*You have had a taste.*
It's the voice again.
*But there is still much for you to learn.*
We look around at each other. One. One and many. We nod. It is time.
"Oh, man," says a student. "What happened?"
"I don't know! I fell asleep, and suddenly I'm just standing here ..."
They all look around, confused. The professor's clothes remain on the floor, along with his weapons. It doesn't seem that anyone but me remembers.
"Hey, Jacob," says the guy who earlier wouldn't even say hi. "You're smiling. Do you know something the rest of us don't?"
I shake my head. "The only thing I know is that I'm going to medical school. I don't think psychology is for me."
He nods, seeming to consider an educational change of his own. But there's another thing I know, though I'm not going to tell them. I know that I'm not friendless. Not alone.
I am the world spirit, and I am everyone.
Including you. | Finally, he was serious about reading my thesis in earnest. I slowly pulled my hand axe and mace from my backpack, having learned to dual wield when I had to take that part-time to pay off my unsubsidized student loans. I grinned at him. I had studied his bibliography. Read his rate my professor reviews. I knew all his moves.
"It's a modern view of the pedagogical application of international communication in the current digital landscape." I stepped onto the chair, other foot planted firmly on the microscopic arm table. They were bolted to the ground, as though someone might steal one.
He sneered up at me, "I've read your abstract."
He slid expertly around the podium. His step was so fluid, it barely looked as though he had touched the floor. He twirled his blade snidely, slowly ascending the long ramp to my seat. I peered down at him, my mouth curling like the tip of my axe.
"But have you read my introduction?"
"I recall some general points, but I found it to be disorganized."
I barked out a laugh. There was a reason I always sat in the back of the class. I stepped back away from him, tiny table to tiny table, kicking notebooks and laptops out of my way. He huffed out a chuckle, but I pressed on.
"How did you find teaching during quarantine? I believe I took one of your classes. Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot. I had to drop it like the other half of the students because the poor organization made it impossible to find anything."
The malice radiated across the divide, carried across by students with too little sleep, battling a harsh rubric and hard grading. He glared at me, stepping onto a desk himself and slowly strode across, every other desk.
I grinned across the desks to him, jumping back onto the other walkway. "Digital mashed potatoes, I believe the 'Rate My Professor' read." I slowly dug my axe into an empty chair, emitting a low, dirty ripping as the hard plastic parted. "Although, you probably didn't know that. You would have to," I drew my words out, syllable by syllable, "Google it."
He growled in rage and dashed forward. "You know nothing of the classic lecture structure!" He pounced, and I deflected his blade with my axe. He struck harder that I had expected and I had to step to the side of be skewered.
I grunted at the impact, but continued my cautious retreat. "If you had paid closer attention to my introduction, you would know otherwise. In fact, I believe I make clear the benefits and disadvantages of the classical lecture and flipped classroom to the accessibility of media provided to students."
He breathed a dark chuckle, "Accessibility? How do you propose we conquer the digital divide?"
I tried to remember the exact-- He was already on me, I stumbled behind the podium. I swung up my hand axe to block, coming in low with my mace, "Rentable equipment."
He put a foot down on my mace, smashing it into the ground, "School funding. Unreliable and distant shipping." He kicked forward from my mace. "New software."
I whipped up my mace, sending his foot flying backward, "A browser is not new software! You're just old!" I let his blade push me into position.
"You avoided my questions."
"Including a week of software instruction." I rolled back. "If it's related to their field. It should be taught inside class." I stood slowly, "These rentals are not by class. They are through school enrollment. More time for equipment to reach students before the semester begins." I stepped to the side, readying for
He snorted snapped forward, "How are we paying for all of this?"
I chopped his blade away with my mace, and with a frustrated growl through my axe into the side of the podium. A loud thud reverberated back to us. I glared up from under our singing weapons, letting the tang of metal hold in the air. "We both know the answer to that."
He gave me an exasperated grunt.
We both lowered our weapons, standing behind the podium. I tapped my mace on my leg. "I, ah," I mumbled, glancing to the axe. "need to make some revisions." I awkwardly walked over the the podium and heaved my axe from its side. I turned back nervously, watching his approach. "Thank you for taking time to look over at least that much."
He flipped his sword back in its sheath. "I did skim over more than your introduction. There was some promise there. Do not forget that you are speaking to a body that may not be yet familiar with new technology. This should be reflected in more than your presentation." He patted my shoulder as I turned to return my weapons to my bag.
"Yes, Professor MacLeod?"
"There will be an additional class fee." | 2021-12-05T22:35:47 | 2021-12-05T22:33:43 | 70 | 26 |
[WP] Years ago, the last remaining God of the Universe died, passing on it’s divine omnipotence to humans. It is split across 8 billion people, though, so most people are God of something obscure or unimportant. You are in the police force’s Misuse of Divinity unit. | It should have been a simple enough job. A elderly man reported that his neighbour had been performing miracles, and he suspected that they weren’t properly documented with the Canadian Divine Authority Department.
Inquisitor Davis almost didn’t take the call. When he heard dispatch relay the address, he shut his eyes and leaned his head against the wheel. He prayed to a dead God for someone else to take it, please, just let him sit in his car in this empty parking lot and be at peace for a few more minutes.
Eventually, dispatch had contacted him directly to go to the address as he was the closest Inquisitor in the area and his particular Divine gift would be utilized efficiently.
Davis took a single, shuddering breath, steeled his heart, and drove.
\***
His father used to say that desperation and poverty were the only two ingredients you needed to make criminals out of good men and women.
Those words rang in Davis’ head as he pulled up to the neighbourhood. It was one of the recent tenements hastily constructed in the wake of a mass exodus of climate change refugees. Unfortunately, a God of Restoring the Atmosphere was too much to ask for.
Davis climbed up the barely-held together staircase that led to the dinghy address. He didn’t let himself register the “Bienvendia / Welcome” door mat before slamming his fist on the door loudly.
“Department of Inquisition,” Davis barked, his voice cold and unrecognizable. “Open up.”
From inside the small apartment, he heard a rapid shuffle of movement and a woman’s voice speaking in hurried Spanish.
His Divine gift kicked in: the ability to understand all languages spoken in the southern hemisphere. Dispatch sent him here knowing this series of tenements were home to mainly South American refugees.
“Go take the bread and hide in your room, love,” the woman had said. “Be quiet. No, everything’s okay. Go. Be good.”
Davis pulled out his badge as the door opened.
“Yes?” the woman said in a heavily-accented voice.
“Ms. Garcia?” Davis said, flashing her the badge. “I’m with the Department of Inquisition. There has been a tip-in regarding some possible unlicensed usage of a Divine gift. I’m going to need to search your house.”
It was brief, but fear flashed in her eyes before being quickly replaced by indignant anger.
“No,” she said stubbornly. “I did nothing wrong. You can’t search my home. Leave, please.”
She tried to shut the door. Davis stopped her.
“Ms. Garcia,” he said, his hand flat against the door. “You have no legal recourse to stop an Inquisitor from performing his or her duty as stated in the Protection and Service Bill. I’m sorry, but I will be entering your home.”
Without waiting for an answer, he shoved his way in, the woman crying out in outrage.
*You forgot a way to turn good men into criminals, Dad,* Davis thought as he marched through the woman’s home. *Give them absolute power.*
\***
In a bedroom smaller than his bathroom, Davis found the woman’s son. Paolo Garcia, age 8. The boy wore Spiderman pajamas and huddled in the corner of the cluttered room, his bottom lip trembling.
“Mom?” the boy said in Spanish.
Scattered all around him were loaves of bread. They popped into existence every few seconds. The boy had no control over his gift, but his greatest sin was that he was unlicensed. There was no mention of Paolo Garcia having the gift to spontaneously summon bread. He had somehow slipped through the many, *many* cracks in bureaucracy.
“Please,” Ms. Garcia said desperately from behind, Davis standing between her and her son. “He is just a boy. He does nothing wrong. This blessing from God… it is bread, nothing more. No danger. Please, Officer.”
“Inquisitor,” Davis corrected coldly. He needed to be cold for what came next.
He walked forward and grabbed Paolo by the arm. The boy immediately began shrieking.
“Mom!” Paolo shrieked as Davis spun around. “Mom, he’s going to take me away! Mom!”
“Ms. Garcia,” Davis said over the boy’s cries. “For the crime of having a minor use their Divine gift without proper licensing from the Canadian Divine Authority Department, you will be placed into an educational rehabilitation center until you learn the error of your ways. In the meantime, your son will be taken from your custody and placed into protective care until he is no longer deemed a threat to society.”
“No,” the woman said wildly, shaking her head. “You will not take my son. He is a boy who summons bread; there is no threat. We are hungry and poor and he has a gift from God. He is no threat!”
“These laws are put in place to protect the greater whole,” Davis recited tonelessly, ignoring the boy kicking and punching and crying. “The death of God plunged society into chaos as reckless men and women like yourself abused their newfound powers. We cannot return to those dark days, and for that there needs to be order. You had ample opportunity to properly license your son and chose not to. These are the consequences. I… I’m sorry,” he added, breaking from the Inquisitor script. “But I’m going to need you to hold out your arms for the handcuffs.”
Ms. Garcia stared into Davis’s eyes.
“You will not take my son from me,” she said in English, her voice hauntingly empty.
“Paolo,” she said in Spanish, slowly reaching behind her back. “Get ready to run.”
Too slow to react, Davis watched as the woman leapt forward, a kitchen knife suddenly appearing in her hands. She plunged the knife deep into his chest, and he roared with pain, letting the boy go.
He dashed away and the woman fled with him.
Davis tried to chase after them but found his legs unwilling to respond. He collapsed to the ground, each rise and fall of his chest sending waves of pain through him.
As his vision dimmed and his limbs weakened, Davis managed to press the emergency button on his radio, just before everything went dark.
\***
He awoke in a hospital bed some time later.
The Chief of Inquisition sat in the chair beside him, idly flipping through a magazine.
“Chief?” Davis croaked. “What happened?”
“Ah, Davis! Good to see you’re still with the living. Don’t worry, the doctors said you’re going to make a fine recovery. Soon you’ll be back out on the streets, continuing to keep our country safe. And don’t worry about those damn refugees; they didn’t run far before getting caught. The mother is facing the death penalty, while the boy is likely going to be shipped back to his relatives. So rest easy, lad. You did good.”
His wound burning, Davis shut his eyes and took in a shuddering breath.
*/r/chrischang* | The three-person team entered the headquarter, escorting a man-- handcuffed with his mouth muffled.
"Lemf me ghhho!", the man protested only to be disregarded by his captor.
"Another success for Team Beta, eh?", the front desk clerk quipped to the leader of the team.
"Another televangelist for ya, Jim", Agent Nicholas Penn, the team captain said, seemingly exhausted.
The front desk clerk handed Nicholas a stack of paperwork as the muffled man was taken away by other officers in the precinct.
"Cap, can we get a more challenging case? I mean, I'm tired of capturing old guys scamming people for money", Agent Todd Trebble remarked, unimpressed of the tasks he's been responsible of.
"This coming from the guy who almost handed that televangelist $200", quipped Agent Stephanie Swans, punching Todd on his shoulder.
"Hey, I couldn't help it! You know that guy has god-like charisma!", Todd protested.
Nicholas chuckled, shaking his head seeing his team bicker like siblings. In his mind however, he agreed with Todd.
Ever since the fall of the last God-- known only as "Ω", more and more humans have exhibited god-like characteristics. It was theorized that the fall of Ω sent His remaining godly grace to the world and its inhabitants.
The Misuse of Divinity Unit was formed by those who knew the truth of Ω-- forming a secret organization with all seeing capability, watching every single individual. All 8 billion of them in case of abuse of their god-like abilities, capturing those who did not maintain normalcy.
"Hey Nick, the captain wants to see you", the front desk clerk broke Nicholas out of his daze.
Nicholas nodded silently before turning to the still bickering Todd and Stephanie.
"Knock it out, you 2. I'm going to see Captain Martin", Nicholas berated his underlings.
"Pfft probably to give us another televangelist to capture", Todd grumbled. "I'll be at the cafeteria if you need me..."
"Forgetting something?", Nicholas raised the stack of papers on his hand.
Todd rolled his eyes. "I hate paperwork..."
"Oh come on, Todd. The quicker we do it, the quicker we'll finished", Stephanie said cheerily, taking the papers from Nicholas' hand.
Stephanie dragged her grumpy colleague by his arm to their desks as Nicholas chuckled witnessing their antics.
///
*Knock knock*
"You wanted to see me, Captain?", Nicholas entered Captain Martin's office.
"Ah yes, Agent Penn. Have a seat, please. And close the door behind you", the captain said with an unsually serious air around him.
Nicholas frowned, curious but he did as he was told.
"I have a secret assignment for you and your team", the captain spoke as soon as Nicholas' buttocks touched the seat.
"Umm...okay. This must be one hell of a televangelist", Nicholas joked. "Secret...how?"
The captain silently pushed the folder on his desk towards Nicholas, prompting him to see for himself.
"Now, this information must never leak to the other officers but...", the captain leaned forward and whispered. "Team Alpha is currenly M.I.A"
Nicholas' hand hovered above the folder, he was frozen in shock.
"M...missing in action? H--how...?", he asked.
The captain leaned back, nodding at the folder. "That's what we need to find out, thus *that* is your team's next assignment"
Nicholas opened the folder, reading it for a few minutes before he looked up back to the captain, eyes wide, a slight grin on his face.
///
"Wake up, Todd", Nicholas said hitting Todd on his head, he was asleep at his desk on top of his paperwork.
"I told him to do his job, boss. But he wouldn't listen. Saying, and I quote *paperworks are for losers*", Stephanie sighed not taking her eyes off her papers.
"We'll worry about that later, guys. We have a new assignment", Nicholas said throwing his folder to Stephanie.
"What? Another televangelist? Give me a break...", Todd yawned.
"No...no way...", Stephanie's eyes grew wide as she read the file.
"Wh...what? What?", Todd asked intrigued by Stephanie's reaction. Quickly he ran behind Stephanie, to read the case by himself.
"Not a televangelist, Todd. Even better and more dangerous...", Nicholas remarked calmly as he put his backpack on.
"A cult leader"
Both Stephanie and Todd smiled wide, finally a challenging case was upon them.
"Gear up, guys. We have a cult to infiltrate", Nicholas said as both Stephanie and Todd scrambled around for their equipments before following their leader out of the building.
*To be continued...*
Edit: typos and grammars | 2021-06-21T01:11:53 | 2021-06-21T00:55:51 | 97 | 63 |
[WP] An S-Rank adventurer casually sifts through their quest log and notices they still have an uncompleted D-rank request. With a chuckle, they decide finding the farmer’s lost cat could be a relaxing change of pace— they were gravely mistaken. | # Soulmage
**It was one of those jobs that was 'beneath' everyone, so nobody got it done.** Like cleaning out the kitchen of mildly aggressive slime molds, or sweeping the sewer of mutated gremsquirrels. There was no glory or cash to be found in those jobs, after all, and even a seasoned witch like me had to pay the bills.
But ignoring the slime molds and the gremsquirrels was how you got a bloated city without a functioning sewer system. So after four months passed and nobody had even *tried* to reach out a hand to poor Jaishek and his cat, I decided to take up the posted job bulletin.
"Thank you kindly, young man," Jaishek said, wringing his hands. "I don't have much in the way of gold, but I've got two sacks of beans with your name on them."
I waved a hand. "Wait until the job's done, man. Who knows—I might not be able to do anything about Mimi."
"Oh, but you're the sweetest little boy for even trying." Aww. Despite having tussled with demons and eldritch abominations, I supposed I *was* still quite young, as cityfolk counted it. "Can't I at least treat you to some tea?"
I reached into my soul and sliced a rift between planes, catching a glimpse of my future. As sweet as Jaishek was, his idea of 'tea' seemed to be steeping grains in water and sipping from the resulting mush; after seeing my poor future self try to choke down the concoction, I politely excused myself to go on the hunt.
I was a witch, and emotions were the source of my craft. So as I stepped into the same amber waves of grain that had surrounded me during my childhood, it was easy to let nostalgia well up into my soul, sowing it out across the field so that I could peer into the distant past. I still hadn't mastered some of the trickier techniques that would let me conserve power, but I didn't think I'd need to—there was plenty of nostalgia to be found in these endless grassy plains.
After all, if I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend my hometown still existed.
The spell of nostalgia clicked into place, a shimmering vision of the past materializing, and I started counting under my breath as the sun and moon arced across the sky. Once I reached a hundred and twenty-two—how many days ago Mimi had gone missing—I slowed the flow of nostalgia from my soul, letting the vision of the past proceed in real time. Mimi had been sunning herself in the yard when—
I winced. Ah. A freewing had swooped down and snatched the poor cat up. The massive raptors had claws practically as large as the cat's bodies. Poor Mimi was no longer living with us in this world.
Which just made things... harder.
I waved a hand, dismissing the spell that let me see into the past, and sighed. Great. I had hoped for a nice, relaxing fetch job so I could chow down on some beans. Now... now, it seemed, the parameters of my quest were a little different. An ordinary person would have no chance of finding a cat that was already dead and long digested.
I, on the other hand, was a necromancer. And I was *intimately* familiar with the art of tracking down souls in the various planes they went to after death.
"This farmer's beans had better be worth it," I grumbled to myself.
Then, grabbing a sheet of insecurity from my soul, I cut open a rift between this world and the next, and stepped through.
A.N.
This story is part of Soulmage, a frequently updated serial in progress. Want to know what happens next? Check out [the table of contents](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/) to be notified whenever a new part comes out! There's already thirty-six other chapters before this one, so there's plenty to catch up on. And if you want more stories, check out r/bubblewriters! | They wondered why it always seemed to end like this. After the last long quests full of stress, danger stress and ridiculousness in general, they really wanted to take a break... But due to the sorely needed equipment repairs and other unexpected costs they had to do at least one other quest. Luckily for them, a D- quest should be enough to cover the rest of the expenses and should have been a relaxing change of pace for them.
Unfortunately that was not the case... not by a long shot. They didn't know who approved this quest but they'll would really like a word with that person. Not only did the 'cat' managed to get lost **in one of the most dangerous areas you know**, the cat was in fact far from what you would call a normal housecat. It had, for one, the size of an elephant, had fangs that were, frankly too large for it's mouth and not only that it did not appreciate being followed no matter the amount of snacks the adventurer brought along.
So, to state the obvious, they had better days. The most frustrating part of all of this was that they were still expected to capture the damn thing instead of killing it. Which they thought was fair enough, but it made their job so much harder... Days went by where the quest went nowhere, it was very smart and elusive. And with every failed capture, it for harder and harder to do other attempts for them. They cursed as they set up a trap for the final time, "I did not want to use this, but that thing doesn't give me much choice." The creature, ever so wary, spotted them but its luck ran out. After all, the adventurer had been preparing this trap for way longer than they'd liked. The creature ran headfirst into the illusion spell, which was hiding a tree. The unearthing of the tree cause the sleeping powder and net traps to set of and with that it was over.
After applying a shinking spell and putting the creature in their inventory they returned to the man that started this nonsense. After generally putting the creature next to the farmer they said with a bitter tone "I don't know in what world this is a D- quest but you are out of your mind!" The farmer laughed and said, "Well, it **was** a D- quest, it only got like this because you took your damm time starting this quest. This is the consequence of your procrastination." | 2022-06-22T05:43:08 | 2022-06-22T05:35:46 | 82 | 41 |
[WP] It was a freak accident, but you died. As you stand over your body someone steps next to you and speaks. "I'll send you back if you do me a favor." | For every moment in your life, there's a non-zero percent chance to die.
Of course, full-throttling a motorbike with failing brakes down Mt. Everest, dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and shorts is much more likely to send you to the afterlife than taking a step; but, how many people do either.
Of the near eight billion people on Earth, maybe one of them will ever do the former. Every soul does the latter, however, thousands of steps each day. Even if you were just walking on the calmest of streets with nothing but concrete and those flowers that pushed through the cracks to accompany you, there was a non-zero chance to die.
That non-zero chance was me. I didn't even know I died.
There was a strange sense of detachment. I looked at my body, sprawled on the floor, seeing crimson ooze out of my head due to an improper fall. There were no tears or sighing or lamenting. Nothing but a voice beside me.
"I'll send you back if you do me a favour."
He? She? It? If shifting tectonic plates made a sound, this would be that. A voice that indicated its owner could manipulate Earth as they pleased, a simple, articulated sentence with each word that soared and dripped with power.
I turned around. I was greeted with a floating being, shrouded entirely in a black cloak, ethereal mist and tendrils emanating no matter which way I looked. As my eyes focused onto them, the stygian darkness only crept in, encroaching my visible domain, until nothing was left but--
"Death," they said, a myriad voice.
I nodded.
"Ray," I said. I courteously hung my head.
"So," Death continued. "Will you take our offer?"
"Has any person not taken up that offer?" I asked. "I didn't even die in a cool way. I just tripped over a stupid pebble."
"We do not offer resurrection so easily," Death said.
"But not zero."
"Not zero," they confirmed with a knowing nod.
"No side effects? No tricks?" I asked, warily. I had become surprisingly lax, right foot tapping in the air, my fingers drumming on my thighs. Yes, Death was in front of me, but they were surprisingly disarming.
"None."
"Then sure, why not? What do I have to lose?"
"We shall see," they said. They smiled, near inexplicably. I don't know how I noticed through the dark, dark veil before me.
A hand poked out. It fluttered and changed, to whoever from whenever at wherever. Different sizes, shapes, some worked to the bone, others plump with nourishment. But they were all attached to Death.
"Do you understand?" Death continued.
"Not really," I said.
"You will," Death said. "For now, I shall return your soul to your vessel."
"What's the favour?"
"You will know, after you've lived your second lifetime," they said. "Do not worry. There will be plenty of lifetimes for you to know your role, for we will teach you all that we know."
"I see," I nodded. "I think I'm beginning to understand."
"That is good. Life, afterlife, life, is the usual process," Death said. "Life, life, then afterlife is unusual. But many people have done it."
"Non-zero," I said.
"Non-zero," they affirmed.
"Why me, though?"
"You understood," Death said. "Life is unfair. We all did different things. But death is a little fairer, and we all know our parts to play."
The black edges crawled, inward and onward, and then they covered the entire irises of my life.
"Do not worry about it now," faint, fading. "Live."
I awoke with a jolt.
A wince of pain escaped my clenched teeth, and my right hand moved to my forehead, touching it gingerly. Surprisingly sore was the verdict.
I looked up at the sky. It seemed much later than I remembered.
Picking myself up, I remembered faint echoes reverberating in my eardrums. What was that about again?
As I stood, I stared straight at a stray pebble on the pavement. I kicked it out into the road, devoid of its lifeblood. It bounced once, twice, and stopped.
It was just a pebble. Nothing important. Right?
"What are the chances?" I said. "That I would have tripped over it and fell?"
I chuckled. I knew the answer. Everybody else agreed.
---
r/dexdrafts | It was all wrong, Sarah thought. She had never even seen the car that hit her coming, never felt herself die. Suddenly she’d just been standing over the broken hulk of her car, watching as the paramedics gave up on CPR.
“I’ll send you back if you do me a favor” a deep voice from behind her said. Startled, Sarah whipped around heart racing as she took in the man who’d spoken. He was massive, far larger than anyone she had ever met, with a flowing white beard down to his navel and heavy, corded muscle standing out in his arms and chest. He wore only a white robe, and to look at his face hurt her eyes, its features were hidden by a ray of light.
“Who...who are you?” Sarah stammered.
“I’m God.” The man said simply. “You know, the man in the sky, the Lord of Light, the big guy. Shame about this here,” he gestured at the brutal wreck in front of them, “you were driving safe too, drunk drivers suck.”
“You’re God...no, no, this can’t be happening.” Sarah laughed nervously as she paced back and forth, head on a swivel as she tried desperately to watch the accident scene and the man at the same time.
“Believe it sister.” God said. “Bad things happen to everyone, all you can do is accept it and try to move on. You’re lucky though, I’m feeling generous and I really, really need someone’s help with something.”
“You’d really send me back? Will I be crippled there? My body looks awful….”
“Yes! I’ll send you back, I’ll heal your body, seriously you have no idea how lucky you’re getting. Now hurry up and choose!!” God stamped his feet in impatience, the ground beneath them shaking in response.
“Ok, I’ll do it! I’ll do anything, just send me back there, I can’t leave my family.”
“Perfect!” God turned around abruptly, shrugging giant shoulders out of the upper half of his robe. He twisted his muscular arms behind him helplessly, whimpering slightly. “Just please scratch my back, I can’t reach!”
Astonished Sarah moved closer, standing on her tiptoes and reaching far above her head to the problem spot in the middle of his back. She ran her nails lightly across his skin at first, mind rebelling at the insane situation.
“Ahhhhh that’s the spot oh yea.” God said. “Harder though, harder!”
Sarah was there for a long time.
\---------------------
If you enjoyed that weird little one I've recently made a [sub](https://www.reddit.com/r/TurningtoWords/) where I'm posting stories and expansions to stories that I particularly liked. I'd love to have you! | 2020-12-15T07:42:35 | 2020-12-15T07:37:38 | 46 | 20 |
[WP] Write the most uncomfortable to read story you can. | "Eat up while it's hot, guys!" Aunt Melanie trilled as we sat down to dinner.
My aunt had made mountains of food. She groaned heavily as she lowered her body into the chair. She beamed at us once settled, and picked up her cutlery, eyeing her towering plate of food.
"Mmmm, don't mind if I do - I'm feeling a bit peckish. Looks great!" my dad said, grabbing a chicken wing. He gulped it down, smacking his lips as he tore chunks of meat from the bone.
"Mm, mm, delicious," he choked out through a mouthful of food, spraying tiny, glistening pieces of meat on the table.
Meanwhile, my mom was helping herself to a plate of spaghetti, served alongside the chicken. She slurped up a big mouthful of pasta, sauce dribbling down her chin. She carefully sucked each of her fingers afterwards, licking the back of her hand for good measure, where the sauce had splashed.
"God, this is so goood," my brother moaned, his eyes glazed as he squeezed in another slice of pizza into his already bulging mouth. He breathed heavily after he swallowed it down. The oil shone on the cheese of the pizza that was left. He scooped it up with a free hand and drank greedily, his mouth shining with grease.
He dipped a half-eaten chicken wing in the leftover pools of oil, and swallowed a large chunk of still-pink meat.
"Wow, you guys are really hungry, huh? Good thing I made lots of food! Eat up, eat up, there's plenty more," Aunt Melanie chuckled through a mouthful of her own spaghetti, suppressing a rich belch as she spoke. "Don't forget about dessert, though!"
She pointed to the large bowl of custard, which had formed a thick crusted layer on top. She'd probably forgot about putting it in the fridge. A fat fly was squirming in the middle of it, which no-one but I saw.
"Mmm, yum!" my dad said, knocking over the half-eaten chicken carcass as he grabbed the bowl. He took the spoon, licked it clean, and scooped up some more before handing it to me.
"C'mon, you haven't eaten a thing! What, aren't you hungry?" he said, licking his lips clean as he grinned at me. | *This isn't gibberish, trust me*
yutb
onhu
utit
lisa
olis
oyst
kono
au'r
trty
teel
havi
ilek
sine
azat
nesh
dtti
whos
oirw
nsyo
dpyu
eool
reud
wmwt
hiia
aslk
twle
trsa
hial
etyl
stad
eena
wndy
oviy
reao
drgu
strs
ciee
ocee
ua
ll
dl
by
e | 2016-02-28T11:52:23 | 2016-02-28T11:48:43 | 30 | 19 |
[WP] Your spouse has the annoying habit of unexpectedly licking you. When you ask them why they do it, they always reply "just so you know it's really me." You think it's nothing but a cute joke. One day, feeling something is off, you realise your spouse hasn't done it in over three weeks. | I'm a little late to the party but I hope you enjoy!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
What started out as a drunken, silly game when we were dating in college turned into an odd sort of routine for us.
Senior year, blitzed out of our gourds, we tried to lick each other's faces, without getting licked first. Stupid, I know,
but it was something people young, drunk and in love do. It quickly changed from drunken game to sober habit, finding ourselves
doing it week in and week out, year after year. Shortly after our marriage, I asked him "Babe, don't you think we're a little old for this?"
He grinned, like an idiot.
"How else will you know its me?"
And, of course, licked my face.
It's been three weeks since we first departed from our routine, and I'm starting to get worried. We both knew, going into it,
that opening our own restaraunt would be stressful, especially in an area with hot culinary competition,
but I hardly thought it would change the man I love into an unrecognizable stranger.
However, that seems exactly what has happened. In fact, I've begun to suspect he isn't my husband at all, but rather some sort of imposter.
Might be that I'm going insane, but I can't shake the feeling. He looks the same, but something is just, *off*. Maybe after some sleep, tomorrow, everything
will return to normal. I sense it won't but I can only hope.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I rattled awake to a loud scraping sound, scrambling under the covers, panicking in a semi-conscious state. My eyes, wraught with the weight of sleep, struggled
over to the source of the noise, and my heartbeat settled as I rest my gaze on my husband, hunched over something in our closet.
"Babe?" I called out.
"Yes" came the reply, though the tone and timbre was not that of the man I married.
I grew increasingly anxious. Something was not right before, but now I could sense that something was *definitely* wrong.
This man was not my husband. But I played along.
"What are you doing? It's like-" I glanced at the clock.
"Jesus, it's four in the morning. What are you looking for?" I asked, trying to hide the nerves from my voice.
"Nothing. Just, looking."
I could see now he was rifling through our safe, where we kept important documents for our restaraunt, as well as recipes and family cookbooks.
"Is something wrong? Do you need any help?" I started out of bed, moving towards him tentatively. And thats when it hit me. These past three weeks I couldn't put my
finger on where it was coming from, but now I knew it was him. This awful, putrid smell of exhaust that plagued our apartment intermittently-and it was coming from the man posing as my husband.
As I moved closer, while trying not to gag on the stench, he sprang up, scraping his face on one of our shelves, his back still turned to me.
This was my chance, to expose this farce that had gone on too long. I moved toward him, quick, and lept on his back, still playing the part of smitten wife.
And I licked his cheek, begging, pleading, hoping he'd return the gesture. But where I expected the soft embrace of his cheek on my tongue I found not flesh but metal.
Horrified, I lept to the ground, almost in tears.
"Babe...wha...whats going on?" There was no hiding the panic in my voice any longer.
My husband stood upright, turning in an almost mechanical sort of way. He moved in my direction, coughing and sputtering, eyes dead and soulless.
"Where...*cough*...where is...*hack*...is it?"
I tried to respond, but the words couldn't find a way out of my mouth.
"*Cough*WHERE...*cough**hack*WHERE IS IT?" He staggered towards me, methodically.
I crawled backwards, overwhelmed by the smell of burning gas.
"Who are you? What the fuck do you want!?" I shrieked.
"You know. You *cough* KNOW."
He moved closer, my eyes now burning from his stink.
"No...What are you...where is my husband?" I wept. That was all I could do now.
He bent over towards me, grabbing me by the neck with a vice-like grip, effortlessly picking me up to meet his gaze.
"Eu...Eugene...where is...Eugene...my...husband.." I choked, feeling consciousness slip away as his clenched his hands harder around my throat.
"What did...what did you do to him? Where is Eugene?"
His grip lightened, enough for me to gasp a small breath.
He fell silent only for a moment before he tightened his grasp again, pulling me to within inches of his cold, dead face.
As darkness enveloped me, he let out one last wheeze, and whispered,
"Ravioli, Ravioli, give me the formuoli." | “It’s been three weeks,” the man complained to his psychiatrist, “three weeks.” While scribbling some notes onto her pad, the psychiatrist was listening intently. The man continued, “at first I thought it was nothing, but it just kept happening. She would pass by, and not a single lick! Now I know this doesn’t seem like a big deal, but the whole relationship is failing! I fell in love over little quirks like that, but now she treats me... differently.” The psychiatrist nodded in agreement, and finally spoke. “Robert, when is the last time you and your wife did something together?” The man sighed, “just yesterday we went shopping, but she gave me the cold shoulder. She said all of two words to me. Two unimportant words at that.” The psychiatrist wrote down another note. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. A tall, lanky woman stepped in and whispered something to the psychiatrist. “Robert we have to end the session,” The psychiatrist explained, “but I encourage you to note down any feelings you’re having in regard to your wife. Keep track of the fights, words exchanged, and your feelings. Most importantly, if you can describe what she’s wearing and doing, it will be helpful.” With that, Robert agreed. He packed up his things and left.
When Robert pulled into his driveway, his wife was outside waiting for him. She had long, brown hair and was much shorter than him. Robert shut the engine down, sighed, and expected the worst. Finally, after a moment’s hesitation, he opened the car door. His wife immediately ran toward him and hugged him. She was...happy. “How was your day, sweetie?” She asked curiously. Robert was taken back, but he pulled his surprise together, cleared his throat, and spoke with a hint of energy. “It was good, I didn’t do a whole lot today, just got back from the gym.” His wife frowned, “You didn’t go to therapy today? I thought you said last night you had an appointment?” Robert stiffened a bit, “No, not today. I think I’m getting better, so I’m going to stop the meetings for now.” He started fidgeting around, fearing being caught in his lie. His wife smiled, “That’s great, dear.” And with that, she gave him a sloppy, spit-filled lick on his cheek. Robert laughed with subtle relief, “You know, I know you mean well, but why do you always do that to me?” His wife returned the laugh with her own, “it’s my way of saying I love you, and just so you know, it’s really me.” Robert gave a puzzled look, but shrugged it off. Together, they walked into their house, hand in hand.
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8fnavq/wp_your_spouse_has_the_annoying_habit_of/dy5j12b/)
[Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8fnavq/wp_your_spouse_has_the_annoying_habit_of/dy5mdjf/)
[Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8fnavq/wp_your_spouse_has_the_annoying_habit_of/dy5tpfv/) | 2018-04-28T21:43:58 | 2018-04-28T21:16:08 | 410 | 66 |
[WP] "Please," the dying monster begged the Paladin, "spare the child." And so while the rest of the party celebrated, he sat by a large egg, struggling between his oath to protect the innocent and his oath to destroy all of the evil race. | ​
"What are you thinking of, uncle?"
Her words interrupted my thoughts and ancient memories. I turned towards the voice.
"Just old times, dear. Do you smell anything?"
She turned towards the clearing in front of us, the grounds shifting as her claws plowed through the earth leaving enormous marks. Her scaled face would look terrifying to anyone who did not know her, but I knew my Claudia well. She was concentrating, large pulses of sulfuric smoke escaped her nostrils as she did. Her senses were focused on the tower in front of us, where my instincts had drawn us. There was foul magic at play here, but I could not locate its exact source. Claudia was better at that.
Her tail moved mesmerizingly in the sun which sent rays glittering over her red scales. Enormous wings were drawn back and rested alongside her sides. She was no longer a child, while I was nearing the end of my days. My race could outlive trees, but even we were no match for her kind.
I pushed the thoughts aside. The sensation of foul magic was getting stronger and I could feel my swords hum and vibrate in its scabbard, it too eager to fight the evils of the world. Noises could be heard from the tower, the creaking of wood and clanking of metal as the gates in its base slowly opened. A lone figure stepped out, shrieked in panic and ran back inside.
I sighed. Life was easier before Claudia. My temple had principles, and those principles were difficult to live by when the evils of the world fled in terror the minute they saw your companion.
I could hear rumble, a mighty sound that made my chest vibrate. I saw Claudia drawing in enormous puffs of air.
"Wait", I said.
She looked at me, her beautiful golden eyes annoyed and confrontantional. It had gotten worse recently. She was an adolescent now. That her kind were enormously powerful and wise didn't mean they didn't go through an age of protest.
"Why must we always wait?!" her voice boomed. Stones fell of the tower and panicked screams could be heard from within.
"I have told you this Claudia, the temple has principle. A fight must be fair and honorable".
"Why? I can smell their evil deeds. They have hurt people. They have killed children. They have terrorized. They deserve nothing but destruction!". Nearby trees swayed from her vocal outburst. In the background someone had climbed atop the tower and was now jumping to his death, fleeing the fate he envisioned from Claudia.
"Without principle, without restraint, our actions do not matter. If we abandon principle to do good, we give evil an excuse to do the same and people might not see the difference."
She shrieked. Thousands of birds fled the forest canopy. Another jumper hit the ground before the tower behind her.
"They are ants before me! I can lay waste to them, I can wipe out their nations, I can burn every last shred of their belief to the ground. None of them can stand before me!"
"It isn't about them standing before you. It is about others living up to you, Claudia"
Blue flashes could be seen from the tower windows. Attempts at teleportation circles, no doubt. Screams of horror as their magic failed. Such simple cantrips do not work near Claudia's kind.
"What do you mean?" She lowered her head, slightly more mellow.
I paused and took a deep breath. In the background, white flags were being hoisted out the tower's windows, and cries for mercy were flowing across the clearing.
"We have to live up to principle of civilization. And the most important part of that is civility. Without that, we have nothing. If we live in chaos, the first day a corrupt ruler comes, he can do what he pleases. Principles bind good, yes - but it binds evil more."
Her eyes looked at me. There were hunger for wisdom there. In the background weapons, spellbooks and magical wands were tossed out the windows and slits of the tower.
"I hear your words uncle, but I do not fully understand"
"I know Claudia. But you will learn"
"Will I? You are nearing your end, uncle". A single tear ran down her magnificent face, melting the ground as it landed.
"I will not leave you before you are ready".
In the background, someone screamed that they were denouncing necromancy and would never again raise the dead.
She looked at me, a glimmer of love in her eyes. She turned towards the tower and let loose a large roar. The foundations of the tower shook as it hit. The screams inside turned to cacophony now.
"We will take them prisoner" I said.
She nodded.
​ | Issac cradled the smooth egg in his arms as his party laughed heartily. Within the fragile shell laid the last changeling. The Norheimian Army had slaughtered all the others.
Mayell sheathed her sword with a victorious smile. "Finally, those vermin have been eradicated! The city council will be more than pleased to hear about this."
"Not just yet, Mayell," said the man next to her, wiping off blood from his shimmering armor. "Issac needs to let go of that damned egg first!"
"Of course Issac will let it go, Aidan. He's not stupid, you know."
Issac glanced back at the two. Then he glanced back at the egg in his arms. "Yes, I guess I'll leave it here in the cold. Surely the winter chill will kill it," he said with a sigh. He set the pearly egg down in the snow.
"Now come along, young'uns! The rest of the party's packed in the sled already!" yelled Aidan. "We better move out before the next storm."
Issac gives a final look back at the egg, resting in the plush snow. Soon it will dead. He dashed after Mayell, his heavy boots packing the snow underneath him.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Issac shivered violently as he swept the ice out of eyes. He drove the tired brown horses as hard as he could, the snow slicing into them like a sharpened knife. Suddenly, he spotted a familiar dot in the distance. The changeling camp.
The camp grew larger as he returned to the war zone. "Hah!" he yelled, yanking at the reins. Issac leaped out of the frosted sled and frantically scanned the ground. His breath froze to his scarf, scratching up his pale lips. He soon found the pearly white egg, sitting half-buried in the snow where he had left it.
Issac grabbed the egg and held it close to his body. Even under oath, he could not let the unborn creature die out in the blizzard. He clutched the egg as he hauled it to the sled, and placed it snugly under his feet in a pile of warm furs. He silently prayed that it would be alive as he cracked the reins of the sled. The horses reared up before swiftly galloping back towards the city.
As the blizzard cut into his body once again, Issac wondered what to do next. He couldn't tell Mayell, she would notify the council at once. If the army found out, he would be kicked out entirely for breaking oath.
"But I can't just let it die helplessly." He whispered to himself. His mind wandered again to the changeling stirring underneath him. "We will find a way, little one. I promise. That is one oath I will never break."
| 2018-09-26T21:49:56 | 2018-09-26T19:17:28 | 25 | 16 |
[WP] You are the latest victim of a God who is known for handing out superpowers. Unfortunately this God has a twisted sense of humour and only gives out superpowers that are useless to the person receiving them. You are determined to make the God regret giving you powers. | For tens of thousands of years the Priests of the Covenant Sacrifice had offered their precious souls to the gods of the pantheon. Souls are so, so rare and powerful. Most of us can’t even imagine the cosmic importance of something so abstract and intangible. But the gods know. The priests know. I know. That is why I had laid down my sword and picked up the duties of a priest so many years ago. I left a life as a conqueror for a chance at something greater. I knew full well how badly the gods wanted, needed our souls. The deal was as ancient as it was simple: once every year a priest offered their soul to the gods, and once in a while, seemingly on a whim, the gods showed mercy. Their mercy came in the form of getting to keep your soul and be granted the most fantastical powers. It was just a high stakes gamble really.
This day was my day. My time to offer my soul. I had bathed in the springs of consolidation, I had thrown all my belongings in the Avellian volcano. My life as I knew it was over what ever happened next. Now I stood in the inner sanctum alone as tradition bid. The last breath of this life passed over my lips as I whispered the sacred words “I offer myself, my whole and all that will ever be me. Which god will accept?”. My voice carried across the vast hall and it had the authority of a lifetime not in meek surrender but self assured purpose.
Only us high priests knew what happened in the sanctum during the offering. All accounts came from those few who had been granted the mercy. Each of them spoke of a different god appearing before them. Asharat the Everlasting had seen Death and lived for five centuries. Wise Ellias account told of the twin gods Guilt and Acceptance. Nothing had prepared me for what I was to experience. I dared to hope for mercy and not non-existence. I dared to hope.
“NO, I DO NOT ACCEPT” the god said. It’s form a thousand forms in one, it’s voice a thousand voices in one. “FOR YOUR WILLING SACRIFICE I GRANT YOU A BOON INSTEAD” it continued and somehow my chest gave way, made room and opened up to receive. My body felt as it would burst as I was filled with divine power. It singed whatever parts of my being it came into contact with until it slowly settled, becoming a part of me.
“I HAVE GRANTED YOU THE POWER TO CHANGE THE COLORS YOU SEE”. the thousand voices boomed like a choir mid crescendo. “..sorry, what? Like change the color of the sky?” I asked in disbelief. “YEAH, KINDA. BUT LIKE ONLY FOR YOURSELF” the god replied. “Oh. Fuck. You.” my words were tiny, but they carried all the rage I had buried deep within me to become a tranquil, pious priest. “SURPRISE!” and with that the god of Mischief was gone. I arose slowly, with new purpose. “You will regret this gods.” and as I spoke this new promise I was literally seeing red. | (On mobile, sorry for the formatting)
There used to be a rumor of a terrible god who gave out powers to those who sought it out. Only the chosen were given gifts but were sworn to secrecy on where the specific shrine lay hidden. I managed to get the location after endless hours of research and chasing down ambiguous lines of information.
The shrine was overtaken with Moss and Vines. It was clearly abandoned and no longer used as the once wooden housing over the statue was laying around it in ruins all in decay. I approached it and as I was brushing away the vines, a loud booming voice echoes through the foliage.
“A new hand touches the Statue”
Long story short, this abandoned God gave me the gift of being able to refill anything with no cost. At first, it seemed pretty stupid, and pretty useless. The power to refill stuff? What good could that do? I realized after a while that I could drive a car and virtually no longer pay for gas. I never went hungry again as I was able to refill my plate with food or refill my fridge with groceries. From there I realized I could spend all my money and just have my bank account refill to whatever it was at before I spent anything. I could do almost everything! | 2022-09-04T06:22:07 | 2022-09-04T00:29:18 | 78 | 53 |
[WP] a woman has been dating guy after guy, but it never seems to work out. She’s unaware that she’s actually been dating the same guy over and over; a shapeshifter who’s fallen for her, and is certain he’s going to get it right this time.
Horror story or romantic comedy? | "Raul," crooned Raul in a very suspicious French accent, as he took the lady's hand and graced his eager lips on it. "Let me guess," he continued, releasing his grip and pulling a chair out from the table. "Sit, please. Let me guess, you're a Mari- no, no, you're a Cassandra? I'm right, am I not?"
*Suave.* Yes, that was what he would be today.
The woman's botoxed forehead tried its best to frown, her lips fighting (and losing) a similarly uneven battle. "How on Earth did you know that?"
Raul slicked his dark hair back with ringed fingers. "Your beauty, it was that of a Maria, or a Cassandra, and there was a certain radiance that could be of no Maria. I see, no wrinkle has dared to blight your perfect face -- that tells me all I need to know." He lowered his voice to a rippling whisper. "*All I need to know.*"
Cassandra giggled through perfectly still lips as she slid into a seat. "My," she said, "You are a charmer. And that accent... Australian?"
"Australian?"
"Yes. I'm certain of it. I've got an aunt who lives there, and strike me down if you don't sound *just the same!* Don't worry -- she's a smoker."
Raul cursed himself silently. He hadn't done enough research for the role. No, it was fine -- he'd improvise.
"Yes, mate. Good catch."
He sat in his seat and raised a hand, clicking his fingers to gain the attention of a waiter. "If I had a bloody boomerang, I'd get us the wine myself," he said with a wink.
Another half chuckle as the waiter approached. Raul knew her very favourite drink, her very favourite food... Yes, this time he'd get the pudding he'd been after for so long. But he had to be confident. She liked confident.
"Lambrusco, for the lovely Sheila. And the house re- a uh..."--he swallowed hard--"Fosters for me."
The waiter lifted his head and eyed Raul snobbishily. "*House Fosters*, sir?"
"Yeah," Raul replied, tugging at his shirt. "You know, out of the house tap."
"Very good, sir. And to eat?"
"Pie and chips for the lady, and... do you do anything off the barbie?"
"Sir?"
"Struth. Just a burger then, mate."
The lady eyed Raul with suspicion. "I wouldn't normally let someone order for me, but... How did you know I loved pies?"
"Know? Oh, that you're a classy pie lass? Well, it's obvious ain't it."
"Is it?"
"It is to me. A lady who would wear a fashionable tracksuit like that, to a place like this, well, she'd be after the fanciest meal on the whole bloody menu."
If she could have smiled she would have done, Raul hoped. God, she was beautiful. Beneath all that make up. Maybe. Raul began to sweat. This was the best any of their dates had gone *to date*. He couldn't mess it up now. It was time to lay his heart on the table.
"Look, Cassandra, I'm gonna' level with you. I think you're mighty fine, and I reckon you think I'm fine. I mean, I figure I'm the sort of guy you'd normally go for."
Cassandara shrugged. "Eh."
"Eh? What do you mean, 'eh'"?
"You're a little too pretty-boy, for my tastes, to be honest."
"You can't be serious. You can't be bloody serious! I've seen all the men you've rejected. What the hell is left?"
Cassandra went tense. "You've *seen* the men I've been out with?"
"Well I er, oh struth," Raul said sadly, knowing he couldn't stop it now. The man's stylish exterior began to wilt, his skin flaking to reveal the green monstrosity beneath. Screams echoed about the restaurant and cutlery migrated high in all directions.
"Wh-what kind of monster are you?" asked Cassandra, her lips trying desperately to quiver.
"Me?" Raul asked, a rage in the pit of his stomach rising. "Me?! What the hell kind of monster are *you*? -- That's the real question! I've tried *everything* to please you. I've been Brad bloody Pitt and Oscar bloomin Wilde. Nothing makes you happy. Nothing!" He realised at this point that he didn't *need* to keep the accent up, but there was something rather bloody pleasing about it.
"Th-hey were *you*?"
Raul's skin began to change again, his black hair falling out in thick clumps, while greasy blonde hair sprouted hurriedly in its place. It took only seconds for Cassandra to be face to face with... Cassandra.
"This," said the new Cassandra, as it got up from its seat, "Is the only person I think you could ever love. You are the worst specimen of any creature I've ever met. And I've been to the Betelgeuse system *and* Scotland. Good day to you!"
Raul/Cassandra had almost stomped its way to the door, when it heard the plaintive scream from behind and stopped in its tracks.
"Waiiit!"
The other Cassandra came running up to it.
"What do you want now? Come to mock me one last time?"
"Mock? No! I'd never mock someone like you. Mmm mm mmmm, you are *gorgeous*. I think... I think I was a bit hasty. How about one more try?" she asked with a salacious wink.
Raul/Cassandra smiled. *Finally*.
"Can you change *any* part of your body?" she inquired as they walked back towards their table.
| Delilah hung up her jacket and took off her shoes. Another dud date. This one was cute. Almost as though he was made to be her type. Tall, dark hair, subtly muscular. And only one dimple. He checked off all the boxes too. He worked as an EMT, bleeding heart type. He liked classic rock and k-pop. Game of Thrones and Gilmore Girls were his go to TV shows (what were the odds of that one). But when they had kissed at the end of the date it just felt flat. No fireworks. Delilah had been through swaths of men and none of them compared to that first love. The one that got away.
 
She put her curly brown hair into a ponytail and took out her contacts. She sighed after putting on her arm flannel pajamas. She shaved her legs for nothing. Again. How many had she gone through now? Twenty? She had been using online dating most recently. There were a lot of good options, firemen, doctors, professional athletes. But they all felt so fake. Like they were trying to be something they weren’t.
 
When she had first met Emmet she wasn’t interested at first. She didn’t usually go for small waifs like him. He had freckles like her and not even one dimple. Not to mention his wild red hair. But when they started to speak at a mutual friends’ party it just clicked. She felt like she could speak to him forever. Sure he hated Gilmore Girls and worked as an accountant for a faceless corporation, but he was kind and when he touched her hair. Fireworks. They dated for eight months. And for those months she was truly happy. They would play punch buggy or watch a movie just to make fun of it. They just fit. But one day, Emmet said he couldn’t do it anymore. She never fully understood why he was breaking up with her. He said something about meeting other people and being physically compatible. But she had always been attracted to him. So maybe he just wasn’t into her. No fireworks.
 
As Delilah watched TV she thought of the string of men that had followed. First there was Bruce, the hottie at the gym. She had given him the side eye even when she was with Emmet. He asked her out not even two days after her break up. It was like he knew she was freshly single. At first she said no; she was in too much pain. But a rebound friend with benefits situation did help. For a short while at least. And while he was hot and very good in bed, he felt fake. No fireworks.
 
She had dated the doctor for three months. He worked in pediatrics so of course she had to give him a try. But even though she wanted so badly to fall in love him, she soon realized she didn’t. Then there was the cook, the rocker, the one covered in tattoos, the one without any tattoos at all. Sometimes they went on a couple dates, sometimes more. But she had gotten almost good and sliding out of their lives when she realized that spark wasn’t there. Or that she wasn’t over Emmet. Sometimes one of them would bite his lip like Emmet did. Or she would see freckles on his cheeks for just a moment. Or their laugh would get shrill like his always did. Sometimes she felt like she saw him in every one of them. But they weren’t him. So they weren’t good enough.
 
Delilah sighed and looked over to her phone lying next to her on her couch. She wished she still had Emmet’s number, but he had changed it long ago. It was like he had completely disappeared. Maybe she would see him again one day.
 
Emmet shifted back from tall and burly to his natural size as soon as he reached his apartment. This version had not worked either. He thought Delilah liked buff men. And he mentioned every favorite song and TV show he could without raising suspicion. But he could tell from the look in her eyes that she wouldn’t call this one back. What was he doing wrong? He brushed his fingers through his red hair and bit his lip. He would win Delilah’s heart again. But how? | 2022-08-24T03:20:20 | 2018-02-14T10:13:19 | 1,353 | 37 |
[WP] During a robbery you’re surprised when the criminals seem to recognize you and retreat in fear. Only later you learn that your high school sweetheart now runs a global crime syndicate and has you placed on a “no harm list” . You decide to pay them a visit after all these years . | "Hands up Asshole! If you want to live, you will move real slowly when you turn around!" I was tidying up behind the counter of our family jewelry store. I looked up and raised my hands above my head and slowly turned around.
"Look, I don't want any trouble, please don't break any of the glass, I'm insured, but they balk at replacing display cases." I moved away from the counter so they wouldn't think I had a weapon, or had triggered my silent alarm on the way out with my knee.
One of the guys came over to me and started to pull my hands behind my back when his buddy started pulling out a bag and some note cards. Damn, they knew what my good stuff was. He looked at one card, then at me, and paused.
"Stop that...Um, don't cuff him"
"What do you mean, come on get the stuff!"
"No, he's... Off limits because of , the... " his voice trailed off and he walked over and showed the card to his cohort. I saw a name on the card with no-no list and my name was listed with a couple of folks who's names I realized I recognized.
"We're sorry for any trouble. Have a nice day sir!" and they bolted out the door. As they got into their car, a patrol car raced up and blocked them in. I worried they would run back in, but they got out of their car and got on their knees with their hands behind their head even before they were ordered to by the cop. After they were handcuffed and put in the patrol car, the officer came inside to check on me.
"Are you sure you are okay? Did they hurt you?" he seemed nervous asking me those questions.
"I'm good, thank you, they didn't even get to the stealing part before they just bailed. I'm not sure why I scared them."
"Don't worry about that part. We have them and they will go away for a long time. Happy to help!" with that he turned around and left, sirens and lights off. That seemed odd.
On the floor where I was getting ready to get tied up, I saw the card that they had been looking at. On the front was a crude layout of my store with some places noted where we had some of our more expensive pieces placed. On the other side was the last name of my 9th grade crush. That's odd, I've not thought about her in years. On the other side were three names. Mine on top, and a guy we went to high school with, and a name I didn't recognize.
"hmmmm, I wonder why her name is on here, and more importantly, why would I be a "no-no" list with two other guys?" I said to myself. I stashed the card and finished up my day in the shop.
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When I got home, I pulled out my 9th grade yearbook. There she was Sally Vai. We dated (if you can call it that in 9th grade when neither of you have a driver's license and are at the mercy of parents or older siblings driving you around to the pizza hut and roller rink.) for 7 months. Heck, While we might have been each other's first kiss, we never really progressed past that, but when school was out for the Summer, she went on vacation with her family to Europe and I stayed home to mow lawns and work in the family store. When she came back, she called me, and we hung out one time before 10th grade started and for whatever reason, we didn't feel like little teen horndogs for each other. We remained , I wouldn't say friends, but classmates that didn't hate each other for the remainder of High School. She went off to college in New York or somewhere fancy and not here. She never came to class reunions, and to be honest, I hadn't thought about her since I was in High School.
I heard the door open and turned around to see my wife standing in the doorway. She ran up to me and hugged me. "I can't believe you almost got robbed today! If the police hadn't gotten there so quick, who knows what those men could have done to you after robbing the place."
"It was the weirdest thing, The guys had this card with the locations of the best stuff, and on the other side was this..." I handed her the card and showed her the list.
"What does this mean?"
"I have no idea. Honest! I went to High School, no, WE went to High School with this guy, but I am clueless about the other one. "
"I didn't go to high school with you..." My wife said slowly.
I pointed to the name on the other side of the card, "Not you, *her."* I opened my yearbook and showed my wife the picture of my first kiss. She was cute, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, had some acne, braces and glasses that you probably couldn't leave out in the sunlight without setting a place on fire. "So that's not her best picture, but anyway, she glowed up by Senior year when she was dating this guy." I pointed at the other name on the card.
"What does he do?"
"No idea, I went to community college for 2 years and the state school one town over so I could work at the store to help my parents."
My wife stared at the picture for a moment, then pulled out her phone to do a quick search.
"Uh, do you recognize her now?", she pointed at a picture on the screen with the tagline under it, ' Community revitalization effort by suspected crime boss comes under scrutiny.' "You are right she 'Glowed' up as the kids say. "You know how to pick the ugly ducklings, don't you?"
"You were never an 'ugly' anything!" I told my wife. "Would you be, bothered if I looked her up and maybe asked her if she ... remembered me? I have to figure this out."
"What are you going to say, Hey do you tell your criminal organization not to rob your old boyfriends?" my wife laughed. Then the doorbell rang.
We both walked downstairs and opened the front door. There was a huge man standing in front of it, who stepped aside and there she was, Susie...
"Well, are you gonna leave me out here in the cold or what?" | For a moment, there is silence. They form a odd tableau: for criminals with semi-automatics, stiffened in the midst of bursting through the door, the customers politely waiting for them to get their bearings or gaping at them. Then the screaming starts. One by one, the weapons are dropped and the would-be-robbers sprint back out again.
It took several failed attempts to realize that I was the common factor in all of them.
The fifth one involved a fainter. I walked up to him, calmly arrested him (it was made easy due to a lack of consciousness, admittedly) and interrogated him at the station. He didn’t know much, but he knew the name of his boss, which was all I needed anyway.
Ladybug. In high school, that was my nickname for her, because she had such beautiful freckles she was insecure about. Ladybug, who had been tremendously idealistic back then. Oh, how I loved her. I loved her from the moment she refused to clean my graffiti off the wall, calling it art and insisted that she’d clean tags off, but not art. The overseer had said this wasn’t the place for her principles, and she had replied, calmly as you please: ‘excuse me, but I’ve always learned that principles aren’t worth shit if you only have them when convenient.’
We hadn’t met, then. We’d meet later, under the factory wall, collaborating on a piece, and I had told her that I was the one making the graffiti she’d considered art. Later, I’d rant at her about people wanting art to be confined into neat spaces like musea and above the sofa and how *scared* they are of anything outside it; and she told me that that was the moment she had fallen in love with me in turn. To love and be beloved in return; it formed and shaped my life more than you can imagine. She had helped me to plan and get away without being caught, and I had helped her in turn, until I got caught by my mom, who recommended that I joined the police, like her. I am a very honest cop, but I never betrayed her.
And now... what was she doing with her life?
Owning a office, apparently. It was light, and white, full of life and people who were all friendly enough, no doubt, but not her equal. She must’ve been so lonely... would this reunion lead to a arrest? Would I be a good friend, or a better cop?
I knocked on the door.
‘Enter.’
I entered. For a moment I stood and stared. The room was full of murals. ‘I am sorry,’ I said. ‘I am looking for Ladybug?’
And there she was, nearly hidden in front of a mural full of people. I couldn’t help but stare.
She stared, too. ‘Thomas?’
Even her voice hadn’t changed.
I waved. ‘That’s me,’ I told her awkwardly. And then: ‘I missed your murals.’
It was true, though I only realized upon seeing them again.
‘I hoped you’d come visit,’ she said. ‘I am glad my people didn’t harm you.’
‘I am a cop now,’ I said, because I thought she should know. ‘But I never grassed on you.’
‘I appreciate that,’ she said, smiling softly. ‘I presume you’ll have to, now.’
‘Not about the graffiti,’ I told her. ‘But why the robbing? What *happened* to you?’
She hesitated. ‘These people,’ she began. ‘They don’t belong in a workforce. They j-just *can’t*. But the system tries t-to force them -‘ a sob escaped her and she wiped her eyes. ‘There was no ch-choice!’
I looked at her and I understood. I *wanted* to let her go, to let her help people I couldn’t have helped. But... people had died in the robberies. And I was sworn to uphold the law. What sort of cop would I be if I let my own sympathy and empathy decide who to arrest?
‘I am sorry,’ I said. ‘I understand and I will help your employees in any way I can, legally, I *promise*. But... I can’t let you walk. I am so, so sorry. But I have to arrest you now.’
‘C-can’t you just...’
‘I am sorry,’ I repeated, and I was more than that; I was torn and gutted by it, torn between my oath and my feelings for her, my sympathy for the cause. ‘I can’t. I have to enforce the law, no matter my personal feelings about it.’
And so I did. She didn’t try to escape, though she could have; instead someone else came in her place, as it turned out, but I had quite deliberately not looked at the instructions she left behind. | 2021-05-06T10:32:01 | 2021-05-06T10:32:00 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] You are a food critic that can immediately identify all the ingredients used in the food after just one bite. Because of your negative reviews, many people dislike you. You are tasting a famous restaurant's steak. But after a bite, you identify that one of the ingredients is cyanide. | Malthus Sorenson, food critic, dabbed at his mouth lightly, pondering the meal he'd just finished at the trendy Chateau DeVries. On reflection, he concluded it was likely to become much less trendy, once his review was published.
The critic was exacting, but fair. He felt his nigh-superhuman sense of taste, that could identify the ingredients of any dish he tasted with uncanny precision, gave him not only the capability, but the *responsibility* to write honest, objective reviews. Moreover, he knew that his discerning readers expected the unvarnished truth from him, and for what the distinguished broadsheet he worked for paid him, he was inclined to provide it.
That being the case, Malthus simply *ignored* the angry glower he was receiving from the restaurant owner as he took notes. The owner, he reasoned, must *know* his fare was sub-par, if he was angry before the review was even written.
Taking out his trusty mechanical pencil, he began inscribing notes in his moleskin notebook in a clear, clean print:
*Chateau Devries House Wine: Unremarkable vintage, merely passable.*
*Chateau DeVries' Truffle Risotto: Dried parsley used instead of fresh -- what were they thinking?! Could detect no actual truffle in risotto -- they used shiitake mushrooms and hoped no one could tell the difference!*
*Chateau DeVries' Filet Mignon: Excessive thyme and an inferior quality black pepper ruin the flavor. Moreover, the accompanying sauce contained thoroughly disagreeable undertones of bitter almonds...*
He paused. Bitter almonds? His eyes narrowed. Bitter almonds...the taste of cyanide. He glanced up at the owner. The man's glower had been replaced with a wicked smile.
This expression faded to one of confusion as Malthus calmly produced what looked like an asthma inhaler and a pen-like object from his coat pocket. As the owner watched in amazement, the critic took three short puffs on the inhaler, and then removed the cap from the pen -- revealing the concealed needle -- and injected himself, before replacing the objects and picking up his pencil once again.
*Chateau DeVries' Attempts to Poison Me: Assassination method was clumsy and pedestrian, easily thwarted by amyl nitrate inhaler and hydroxocobalamin injection to neutralize the low-purity sodium cyanide that was crudely mixed into the execrable sauce accompanying an already inferior filet...*
| As the taste hits my lips my eyes go wide. I remember this from my childhood, mother trying poison me because of my unnatural behaviour. She never could bring herself to do it with violence, poison seemed so much simpler.
The first time, I didn't know what it tasted like, it just tasted strange. There was pain, cramps, but it passed, I survived and I remembered it for next time.
A simpler time. Life was easier.
It turned out she could not tell the taste of cyanide herself.
I stand up from the dinner table and walk into the kitchen, taking the long, serrated steak knife with me. | 2018-10-04T07:39:04 | 2018-10-04T05:35:36 | 439 | 107 |
[WP] You're a supervillain with a superhero as your arch-nemesis. When they come out to the world about their depression and mental health, others call them weak and there is backlash. You, however, are the first one to support them publicly. | *Ahem*
I always believed what elevated a villain to a super villain was their sense of *style*. But my unique, snazzy, often explosive ways of contacting you plebes are starting to be expected. ^(I know, Paradoxical.) And so, I have chosen to host a press conference, something wholly unexpected and therefore being able to drill into a much bigger audience, what will likely be the most important thing I'll ever say.
​
My nemesis, the recently renamed Impenetrable^(— god, which idiot told him that was a better name—) Well, they have decided to tell us of their still continuing struggles with depression. This is in my opinion one of the bravest things Impenetrable has done in my decade of knowing them, and I will fully support them in any way I can.
That being said, My solidarity with Imp— Yeah, no, I'm not calling them that anymore. What was their previous name? They had that for a month. Something starting with O, right? Something like Omni—ohhhhh.
Yea, I'll just call them Arch like I used to. ^(People know him better as Impenetrable, my ass.)
That being said, My solidarity with Arch, while more than enough to call this conference, is not the only reason I am here.
​
I expected a few dozen or so degenerates to mock Arch for his ongoing battles. I'd have just zapped them and changed the chemical balance in their brain, preferably without Arch knowing— They'd just reverse it after all. With those... bad apples hidden, I mean gone, we as a community could help Arch.
What I didn't expect was more than half of this so-called society to deride Arch for being, well, human.
I couldn't believe you fools. You call me evil, while you continue to beat Arch down when he's at the weakest, when even I wouldn't hurt him. Tell me, who is the real villain here?
I probably should have zapped everyone here, to make you understand an iota of what Arch is going through. The only reason I didn't is because Arch asked me not to. How he knew what I was going to do, I'll never know, but consider yourselves lucky that Arch doesn't want you heartless creature to experience his demons.
Maybe I should have just held hostage a dozen kids or so till you learnt at least some amount of empathy, and decency. But I doubt anything I said or wanted you to understand would have gone through those thick head of yours. Best case scenario, I'd have traumatized bunch of kids and parents, and angered an entire city....
Or maybe— WHAT DID YOU SAY GENERAL?!
....
\[1/3\] | I would like to you all see this. This brave woman that was your champion, see what you have done to her. I am not the villain, that is what I have been trying to warn you all. She got crushed by your own system by being a mother, a worker, a woman and a “super-hero”. She battle for the Status-quo and what did it bring to her? Depression, loneliness, despair and now she is abandoned. Am I the real villain here? Really? Did she got paid when I tried to destroy the banking system? No. Did she got a relief from her nanny when I kidnapped all those billionaires in a Saturday evening? No. You are the real villian. I just would like to say that I support you, Arachnea, and I wish you the best recover and my lair is open whenever you need someone to talk to. | 2022-06-21T10:53:05 | 2022-06-21T09:53:16 | 48 | 22 |
[WP] Luckily for them, the hero wasn't too hard to find, based on his clothes and appearance. That and the massive amount of soundtrack players following him. | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc ?, Interlude ?: Archcommander Varney, Part II)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**Archcommander Varney could see the giant blue sword from three blocks away.** It was nearly three times as tall as the hero herself—more than once, to Archcommander Varney's mild amusement, she'd been forced to duck beneath some low-lying power lines to avoid cutting them. The trio of young men accompanying her were causing quite the awful racket with their bagpipes; the Archcommander briefly wondered if the cacophony could be weaponized before filing that away for later investigation.
"Third rogue 'hero' this week. At least this one had the courtesy to announce herself," Tamulu said. They'd taken the form of a handsome young man today. Tamulu leaned forwards over the rooftop they stood on, eyes dilating, and frowned. "That's a Demon Blade. Not sure which one. Be careful; it may look ridiculous, but she's stronger than she looks."
Archcommander Varney grunted in acknowledgement. "Can the blade be wielded by anyone?"
"Some people are better suited to it than others. If you take it, you should have no problem finding a replacement owner."
Archcommander Varney nodded. "Can you take her in a fight?"
Tamulu snorted. "Please. My people *made* the weapon she holds. I know its limitations. You could take her out with a gun, if you took her by surprise. It's a blade, not a shield."
Archcommander Varney considered it, then shook his head. "The press backlash would be too great. Shift into a police officer and arrest her for open carry of a magical weapon; if she resists, then we can paint her as the aggressor." The Archcommander methodically unpacked his equipment from his bag—a camera and a rifle. He set them up with the same precision he set everything up—economic movements, minimal force applied with maximum effect.
Tamulu *flickered* next to him; Archcommander Varney politely averted his eyes. The forms Tamulu took were fine as an end product—it was only the stages in-between that could be... disturbing.
With a light *thud*, Tamulu fell to the ground in the form of a snake. Slithering off the edge of the building, they shifted again in an unobtrusive corner, taking the form of a stern-looking policewoman. They rolled their shoulders and walked out.
"Ma'am! Excuse me, ma'am!" Tamulu walked up to the hero with the sword. That awful bagpipe music faltered as the hero stopped. "We received a call about a woman with a sword in public. Are you aware that public display of magical weaponry without state approval is a federal crime?"
The woman blinked, taken aback. "This—this is the Demon Blade of Determination, granted to me by divine right. Mortal officers—"
"Divine right is not a signed form of state approval. I'm afraid I'm going to have to put you under arrest."
The three musicians tensed. The woman narrowed her eyes. "Madam, I am here on a quest given to me by the highest possible authority—"
"What a coincidence! So am I. Drop the weapon and put your hands up. Last warning."
The hero scowled. "No. Move out of my way before I make you." She moved to bring down the sword—
Archcommander Varney squeezed the trigger.
Hero and blade collapsed as one.
Tamulu caught the blade before it fell, then looked at the three musicians.
As one, they fled.
Archcommander Varney stood up.
Another "hero" neutralized; another weapon for the armory.
A.N.
"Bargain Bin Superheroes" is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | Sir Lematu strode into the tavern. His gilded armor near blinding and the legendary mace of stone locked on his hip. Over his back a harp was nestled beside a quiver of arrows. As he entered the inhabitants of the tavern shielded their ears. He had long grown used to the curse that followed him, forever more ethereal musicians and chorus would follow after him playing grand tunes. It had been annoying at first but he had grown fond of the tunes.
He gave a dazzling smile to the barkeeper and took a seat as the rest of his companions came in. "Good innkeeper, your finest drinks! A round for the house!" He declared tossing a thick ruby the size of an egg onto the counter top. The inhabitants of the bar cheered and drinks were handed out. He turned looking at the smiling patron. His face stopped at a glowering half-elf.
Clothed in a mix of cheap leather armor and flowing robes the half-elf looked at Lematu as if he had insulted her parents, her gods, and every person she knew. He gave her his award winning wink and turned back to his companions.
The tavern was in the middle of nowhere. The last stop before the Tundra wastes where his destiny laid. .
Milo turned to him, his finger's tapping on the counter top as his eyes flitted through the warm room.
"So this is the last stop then. No more warm tavern's filled with loose belonging. You sure about this?" He asked taking a swig of his drink.
"Aye. It's the only way in truth. Otherwise I am damned." Lematu said.
"There has to be a better way." His other companion Vila said.
"None that end well." He replied looking at the well worn countertop of the bar.
The sound of a chair scraping the stone floor caused his eye to turn to it. The half-elf strode forward toward him her glower having not disappeared.
"Are you Sir Lematu, the dragon slayer, the great bard, the killer of lichs, the bringer of songs, the lord of Brakenhall?" She asked crossing her hands.
"I would indeed be the man you named. How may I help you my lady?" He asked as Milo nudged him.
The woman pulled out a piece of paper. "You've been served. You owe 42 cases of child support to the various child you've had." She said. "Next time before you try running to the artic to avoid paying make sure your theme song isn't playing when you enter a bar." She said as his face fell | 2021-09-19T12:29:03 | 2021-09-19T11:45:13 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] A portal opens before you and out steps a version of yourself covered in blood. "I've killed humdreds of you and they say you're the strongest one. Time to find out why." | We both stood in wide-eyed confusion in the corner of my bedroom.
I stared at the bloody reflection of myself for a few breaths before spitting out a stuttered "What?"
He responded sharply, "You are the strongest version of Austin and it's your time to die."
I shook my head lightly trying to throw the shock from my expression. It was a fruitless attempt as my eyebrows furled and my eyes squinted in even tighter confusion.
"What the fuck?" The words crept out from behind my teeth.
He seemed eager to respond both verbally and physically. His eyes flicked up and down at me and his hand fiddled with the item in his hands.
Suddenly, his hand shot up and pointed the object directly between my eyes.
"Don't play fucking dumb! They all said you were the strongest. Now let's get this over with!"
The weapon hovered just above my nose. The blade was broader than a usual hand-axe and was chipped and dulled from usage. It shook slightly in his grasp.
"Come on! Do something!" His teeth clenched as he waited.He looked restless.
The hand that gripped the hatchet was covered in dry blood and scratches. Blood dripped from behind his ears and the creases in his clothes and his knees swayed as we waited for one another to make a move.
"Yo- You are the... the stronge-." He murmured the words as he lost balance for a moment. His eyes flew open again, catching himself from falling over in exhaustion as he placed the blade in front of him again. His other hand grabbed his wrist to stop the trembling.
"You're exhausted," I said.
Like a spell the words caused him to collapse. His knees slammed against the carpet and the blade bounced away from us both. His body wavered slightly before falling towards my bedframe. I moved quickly and caught his head before he could cause himself any more damage.
He was unconscious and breathing lightly. I studied him for a moment as his head pushed into my hands. I had never held myself before. Never studied my own face. The pockmarks. My nose that bent slightly to the left. The scars above my left eye. All of it was exactly the same.
The portal shimmered just feet away from where we sat in the bedroom. It was in my best interest to push him back through and live to tell the tale. I took a deep breath before heaving his head from my hand and tucking a hand beneath each shoulder. I weighed more than I thought.
Once he was through, the portal began to glow more faintly and eventually began to fade around the edges. It slowly swirled to a close leaving only the light from my lamp and computer screen to fill the room.
Bloody footprints stayed stained in my carpet for weeks. I had stashed away the hatchet-like weapon. A reminder that I wasn't dreaming that night. And a hope, that one day he would return, and we would have a fair fight. | “I don’t understand.”
“Well of course you don’t.”
“Can you run it by me again?”
“I’ve killed Humdreds of you- us and they say that you are the strongest one. I’m here to see why.”
“Okay I’ve got 2 questions, why are you covered in blood? And did you say “humdreds”?”
“Did I say humdreds? Shoot I meant hundreds, and the reason I’m covered in blood is because I go and kill alternate versions of myself to insure I’m the only Abo there is.”
“Well I’m personally confused, why would I be the strongest I’m just trying to mind my own business.”
“Well here I go.”
Abo plunges his sword into Abo, and it ceases to exist.
“What in the fuck?”
“I’m thinking the exact same thing.”
“What did you do to my sword?”
“I dunno. I guess I didn’t want to be hurt”
“Okay… so you can cause stuff to stop existing?”
“I… don’t know…”
“Alright well I’m out of ideas, I’ll be right back”
“See you friend!”
“Wait what are you… ohhh! I get it now. Wait don’t leave!”
Abo exits his room, after all he has a great imagination. | 2022-11-09T10:11:50 | 2022-11-09T08:59:54 | 659 | 86 |
[WP] An alien had cornered up a Human, pointed the gun and pulled the trigger. "Why won't you die?" Shouted the shocked alien. "Dude, it's a watergun." | "Water...gun" was the only words that came out of the alien, it had been around 10 minutes and Jerry had never met someone as emotionally damaged as him before, he felt ashamed instead of proud to this awkward victory but he didn't knew what to do.
"OK, so...where do you guys come from and why are you scared of water little buddy?" He said as he touch the aliens shoulder, which felt hot but strangely cold at the same time, as if his suit was shifting pressure or heat within fractions of a second, the big giant eyes on our green skin friend looked watery, a kind of an ironic feeling came through Jerry, the Alien touched something on his neck akin to a button and the strange gargle sounds that came out of his mouth started to make sense in Jerry's head, which doesn't usually happens, nothing ever makes sense in his head.
"You clearly must be the pinnacle of evolution on this planet, the liquid thrown at medium to low pressure would usually melt away from skin to bone, yet you only seem mildy annoyed"
"It's kind of warm, no one likes kind of warm water to the face" he retorted as he sat besides him, "and no, I'm a cut below average, at this point I should feign being autistic"
The alien looked at him in awe, if he wasn't even average what kind of monster where they but something else was on the creatures mind, "Autistic?"
"Ah yeah, you probably don't have those, it's a sickness that makes you act weird since childhood but those guys usually do better than I, what do you guys eat?"
As the concepts started to fill Jerry's mind with visions of what they called food he watered his lips, "do you want to go to a burger joint?, you might like it...it's not that far" after a brief silence Jerry told his new companion "You move your head up and down to say yes, side to side to say no, it's called a nod and if anyone ask just say you're japanese".
Jerry might have never done much in life, but he somehow made the first contact with a superior race be as eventful as his nephew meet-n-greet day on kindergarten. | Above the space ship everyone laughed at Droxl, the dumbest of all aliens. They couldn’t believe, given all the technology available at their tentacle-tips allowing them to traverse mine-boggling expanses of spacetime, that he could have failed to realize the scans showing this planet to be mostly water meant the humans were probably impervious to it. Smiling to himself, the commander gave the orders to jump into hyperspace.
🙄 | 2018-02-11T09:59:12 | 2018-02-11T08:37:32 | 30 | 18 |
[WP] You have just found the cure to a virus that is killing millions worldwide, why do you keep it to yourself? | John approached his colleague, and friend, glancing around the sterile room as he did. Most of the other researchers had hit their bunks for their mandatory four hours.
“Stephen, I think I’ve got something…” he said
Looking over his shoulder again, he directed Stephen to the corner of the room, where a microscope sat in a mountain of clutter.
“Look.” he said.
Stephen leaned over and peered into the microscope. His hand trembled as he adjust the eyepiece.
“The virus is receding!” said Stephen, “We’ve done it! What batch is this? We’ve got to get it into production!”
“No, not yet. I’ve destroyed everything that led me to this batch.”
Still hunched over, Stephen turned his head away from the eyepiece.
“What? What the fuck John?”
“It’s still in my head, I can recreated it. Just… just not yet. I only showed you for confirmation. You are the only one I can trust with this.”
Stephen stood upright and looked around the room. His eyes opened wide, he demanded an explanation without saying a word.
“Look, think about it for a second. The world was fucked anyway. Poverty, famine, war, global warming and then whatever shit we would think of next to kill ourselves off.” He glanced around the room again and lowered his voice, “I’m not saying we sit here and let the human race die, I’m saying we wait. Did you know that the black plague actually solved a lot of social problems? They were at crisis point. Overcrowded cities, violence and extreme poverty. We’re way beyond that point. We have the chance right now to save humanity! To tip the odds in our favor, to make rebuilding easier. People will be reeling from this, maybe the human race will finally gain some perspective. Maybe we can achieve world peace! A balanced society.” he said.
“John you can’t do this! Millions of people have died, and millions more will follow. You will be responsible for those deaths”
“Maybe, but maybe I will be responsible for saving mankind!”
He snatched the Petri dish from under the microscope and poured a destructive solution over it.
“It’s done Stephen. I will create another batch, but only when the time is right.”. | I did it. me! I finally did it. That damn virus reanimated our dead.its killed millions, billions even. And I finally found the cure. I have been working my ass off I haven't really counted the days.my only friends have been these concrete walls. But it is no matter because I am the true savior to the planet. Now I wonder If someone out there gonna come let me out of this damn bunker. It's almost been two....years. | 2014-05-30T02:32:10 | 2014-05-30T02:00:50 | 53 | 22 |
[WP] In most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war. | EDIT: Now with part 2, and one minor edit at the end of part 1!
*
*We thought ourselves masters of the game of war. We were wrong.*
It started the same as any other: observation.
A resource-seeker - known to the public only by her employee identification of E-0001229-AZ - observed a system through a starscope for approximately twenty-two short cycles. The system possessed eight true planets and a multitude of failed planets. Two asteroid fields were flagged during observation, both of which were classed with the rare Class-8 deposit rating. They alone gave E-0001229-AZ cause to tag the system for future mineral exploitation.
However, the presence of a planet with atmospheric conditions reading as *habitable* by her instruments, caused EO-0001229-AZ to flag the system for further review by a specialist.
Three light-cycles later, World Specialist AT-1121092-II reviewed the data collected by EO-0001229-AZ. She concluded the flag for review appropriate and requested an observation drone be sent to the *habitable* planet, logged from then on as T-141/a54 HABITWLRD.
An observation drone was prepared and launched seven light-cycles, later, and began its seventy-four world-cycle journey to T-141/a54 HABITWLRD. Both resource-seeker EO-0001229-AZ and World Specialist AT-1121092-II would recycle from natural causes before the drone reached its destination.
*
The drone arrived at the target system on Imperial Date 22102.27, First of Progenitor.
It conducted its assigned mission as designed: analyzing the failed worlds of the system's outer rim, moving ever inward toward the *habitable* world of T-141/a54 HABITWLRD. It confirmed the abundance of resources available throughout the system's asteroid fields, and, in a surprise, noted several moons with frozen water ripe for harvest and filtration.
Once it reached T-141/a54 HABITWLRD, it again confirmed earlier information. The planet's conditions were well within Imperial requirements for colonization. The drone tagged the planet's oceans, vast and - comparatively - shallow as the world's most promising feature; billions of tons of food could be provided each world-cycle.
The drone also observed a native population.
They were an organic race, as all Imperial races were. Two arms. Two legs. Two eyes. Similar enough in appearance that they could be incorporated into the existing lesser populace with little difficulty. And also primitive. The drone detected no radio frequencies and observed a distinct lack of technology among the population; not even aircraft or widespread electricity was seen in use.
With its mission fulfilled, the drone sent its information back to the station from which it launched via point-to-point entanglement, then self-destructed.
*
The drone's information reached the desk of the Chief of Colonization a mere two light-cycles after the drone self-destructed; point-to-point entanglement was far faster than light, but only in a non-physical manner.
The Chief of Colonization reviewed the information, concluded T-141/a54 HABITWLRD was worth colonizing and drafted a standard Annexation proposal, one of seven he would draft and send to the War Department that light-cycle.
The War Department approved all seven Annexation proposals and put together the required Legions to see them through. Given that no Annexation targets were space-capable, the War Department assigned ten Legions to each target along with a single drone ship as support. To T-141/a54 HABITWLRD, they sent thrice this number; its people were more numerous than the others, and as such would need a greater show of strength to force a surrender-on-sight, as was the Imperial war doctrine.
Two moon-cycles after the proposal was accepted, six of seven Annexation task forces were locked into cold-sleep and sent to their target worlds. The task force that was to take T-141/a54 HABITWLRD left one moon-cycle later than the others, on account of its greater numbers.
They arrived at T-141/a54 HABITWLRD after the other Annexation forces had already taken their target worlds.
There are historic records with voice logs sent to the T-141/a54 HABITWLRD task force from other task force commanders via point-to-point entanglement communications, light-cycles before any task force set off. Many of the recordings are humorous or mocking in nature; Task Force T-141/a54 HABITWLRD was seen as unnecessarily large, and put together to protect an unknown commander's ego.
These archived communications are, in the modern-cycle, not looked upon with amusement.
*
Immediately upon arrival, Task Force T-141/a54 HABITWLRD reported alarming developments.
Its sensors were picking up radio signals. Radio signals, and numerous other electronic signals; some of them nearly as advanced as the rare Imperial protectorates allowed to develop themselves.
Observation drones sent back images of a far-more numerous native population than anticipated. Species were generally projected to double in numbers every hundred to one hundred fifty world-cycles.
T-141/a54 HABITWLRD had more than *quadrupled* in the seventy-four world cycles since initial observation. And they had advanced. They had thousands of satellites in orbit of their world, and dozens in other parts of the system. An internet was detected; a technological development that had only been seen in Imperial space. And it was an advanced network for a single world, filled with trillions of pages of information. Much of this information was useless to the Task Force, but they were able to research what to expect from this rapidly-developed world.
What they found was disturbing.
In seventy-four world-cycles, the natives of T-141/a54 HABITWLRD had not only established wide-spread use of electricity, but they had also discovered radio, aviation, efficient methods of production, jet and rocket technology, their internet network, and the early stages of fabrication.
They also didn't know war.
Conflict was a show. A dance meant to intimidate. Scare away. Frighten. The greatest military leaders were those who know the dance so well, they never inflicted a casualty. This was true among not only Imperial forces, but every race that had been Annexed.
The natives of T-141/a54 HABITWLRD did not view war in this way.
They viewed war as a slaughter.
Their internet was flooded with violence. Images of death and games of death. Jokes of death. Their militaries were built to *kill*, not dance. Hundreds of millions of their people had perished in conflicts just in the previous seventy-four world-cycles, and millions more were under constant threat of extreme violence.
Worst of all, they had *it*. The foundation-splitter. A weapon known only in theory to Imperial scientists.
Task Force T-141/a54 HABITWLRD held their position and sent a request to return home, and a recommendation to avoid T-141/a54 HABITWLRD at all costs. It took four light-cycles for them to receive a go-ahead to carry out this order of operation.
Task Force T-141/a54 HABITWLRD immediately began preparations to leave. The commanders sent their soldiers back to cold-sleep. Technicians called observation drones back to their berths and secured them for transit.
At some point in this operation, it was realized one drone was missing.
A frantic investigation was launched, and quickly came to a frightening conclusion.
The natives of T-141/a54 HABITWLRD had hacked a drone. And through that drone, the natives had gained temporary access to a shared database containing a number of sensitive files.
Including the Task Force's Annexation orders.
The Task Force immediately commenced a retreat forty-seven short-cycles earlier than their expected departure, sacrificing non-critical systems in order to accelerate their operations.
Before they left, and just as they cut the Task Force's link to the drone, they received a message from the natives that would not be translated until a much later date.
*We see you.* | ​
Writing Prompt
\[WP\] In most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war.
​
"All Life is Created Equally."
The motto of the Alarkian Federation hung in alien letters embroidered on a bright blue banner. The Hall of Councilors was large, seating some 2,000 delegates who served as representatives to the Federation. The two humans stood behind two specially erected lecterns, addressing the Councilors leading body. At it's large semi-circular table were the thirteen members who really held sway here. Bi-peds, tri-peds, hive mind AI projections, and every other imaginable form of "alien" sat around the room, but those at the high table looked as if they were from New Dehli or Copenhagen.
"You have been summoned here by the combined will of the entire Alarkian Federation. Over 30 trillion sentient beings are represented by this august body. We have chosen to display these forms so that you will not misinterpret our movements or language.
All species here were created by God and told how to live. We have been instructed by our creators in all manner of life so that we may live in happiness. Of all the messages given to us one was the most clear. "Do Not Suffer Evolved Life to Live." Representatives of Earth, you are not found within the Registry of Creation handed down at the dawn of civilization.
You are the first species of evolved biological life to reach for the stars and find purchase. That is why we have brought you here. Had we discovered you at an earlier point in your development we would have destroyed your planet and ended your threat then and there. As it is though, we must grant you death by combat. The Combined Xarte Fleet sits in waiting near your colony on 6592D-C. Our Herald shall be in contact shortly to arrange details. You are dismissed."
Hours later, in the hull of their transport ship, the two human Ambassador's compared notes and reviewed the transcript of the days proceedings.
"I can't understand their logic Marin. Why would they tell us their plans like this? Is it a trap, some sort of diversion designed to pull our forces away from the real strategic targets?" asked Del.
"No...I'm telling you: They have a completely different take on warfare. Look at the religious documents they gave us. They say they were literally created, and that they are often in touch with their deity. All of them say it. It's the cornerstone of their combined existences. The foundational texts are clear on warfare. Star-ship's aligned in rows, throwing non-neutrino, non-nuclear warheads at one another." replied Marin.
"But why would anyone fight with such antiquated weapons and tactics? The whole idea of conflict is to survive at all cost." Del paused, "unless their idea of conflict is purely show. Are you saying that the entire point of warfare to them is purely tactical? How could they have survived this long?"
"They have *all* survived this long because they all follow the rules laid down by their creator. The same creator that says we are to be exterminated upon sight. Maybe something about evolved life makes it inherently dangerous, precisely because it is designed to destroy everything in order to ensure its own survival?"
\-2 Standard Years Later
On board the Imperium of Man Ship (IMS) *Defiant*, the Strategic Defense Council sits in full session. The military liaisons of 50 independent worlds and 320 colonies wait patiently for the speaker to begin. All across human space another 17 billion humans tune in.
"Ladies and gentlemen, as you know the Xarte *Herald* has been sitting in orbit around 6592D-C (6C) for the past 18 Standard Months. We have tried numerous methods of communication but the same message continues to be broadcast.
*We are the combined Xarte Fleet. We welcome your challenge in the name of the Lord, our Creator. Our fleet will arrive at aphelion on 345th million year of this planets existence. The presence of your fleet is requested so that we may settle the matter of your continued presence in our Universe.*
Today, exactly as the 6C reached aphelion, what we assume to be the entire Xarte fleet warped into the system. They are making lines of approach that correspond to the broadcast message's diagrams. They number exactly 100 and appear to be ship's of the design seen in Alarkian Federation religious documents.
Since we did not seek this fight, and we seem unable to avoid it, we proceed with Option E.
Pray to whatever God you need to, but above all else, pray to Darwin: *Survival of the Fittest.*"
\- 24 Standard Hours Later
A single human ship approaches the lined configuration of Xarte Warships. The vessel, named IMS *Existence*, is piloted by a single woman. Her name is Lieutenant Natasha Konomini and she has been awarded the honor of saving her species. As she draws closer a communication is received from the Xarte Herald.
"Human ship, where are you battle lines? Do you dare defy-"
He is unable to continue. The *Existence* kicks it's warp drive in to action and accelerates directly into the center ship of the Xarte formation. Moments later a great explosion is witnessed around both Human and Alarkian space. The Xarte ship's are blasted in to millions of pieces as the shockwave rolls outward from the center. The ships toward the end of the line try to leave the formation, but the blast moves too quickly and tears in to them with un-imagined ferocity.
In the Hall of Councilors a request for parlay is received. Several hundred delegates are attempting to speak until they are finally silenced by the High Table. On two thousand handheld screen a human face appears.
"Delegates. We have accepted your offer for combat. At this moment 5,634 identical ships sit outside your military bases and civilian hubs. We do not wish to use these weapons, but unless you withdraw your claim that we do not have a right to exist we will eradicate your ability to make war. You have two minutes to reply."
Moment's later the return broadcast, which was broadcast all over human space, was received, "We cannot defy our creator."
"Very well." Said Del. He adjusted the display on his HUD, aimed his ship directly toward the planet below and the Hall of Councilors specifically, and kicked his warp in to drive. | 2020-03-21T10:44:51 | 2020-03-21T10:23:49 | 634 | 59 |
[WP] You live in a world where every time you have a birthday, you get to level up a skill like in video games (intelligence, strength, charm etc.) most people spread their points evenly on each skill. But you put all 30 of your points into that one skill nobody cares about
You get to choose what that skill is. | **A Brief History and Final Advice** *by Sage Sebastien of Hintz*
For the first 18 years of life, parents focus on developing their children's core attributes - Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, Wisdom, Intelligence, and Charisma. The Core Attributes (CAs) - and how they are developed - necessarily increase associated skills. After the age of 18, though, the child is now responsible for their own improvement, and can choose to Specialize in a specific skill or set of skills. This is where Athletes become Climbers, for instance, or the Intelligentsia become Mathematicians, or Charismatics become Politicos, and what have you.
It didn't take very long, however, for our People to discover the 'best' way to maximize skill potentials. This lead to the creation of the Meta - a series of templates for parents to use to begin their children's development in ways most conducive to their future careers. This eventually became known as "Maxing".
My parents were both Statisticians, members of the Intellegentsia tasked with logging and analyzing trends within the Meta. They both grew up prior to the Meta, so they weren't Maxed like some of the younger members, but they were both very competent in their roles. It was my mother that first discovered the "Dump Stat" trends - how every Meta template had 1 Core Attribute that would *never* be increased. She talked about it with my father, who then applied the trend mapping schema to the Meta as a whole, and discovered a disturbing pattern. Over time, there was 1 Core Attribute that was trending towards obsolescence - the Wisdom attribute. So they decided between them that, if they should ever have a child, they would work towards reversing this trend by assigning CA increases solely towards the child's Wisdom score.
As luck would have it, I was born not too long afterward. I spent the first 18 years of my life feeling left behind, never as strong, fast, agile, smart, or likeable as anyone else. But also, over that time it slowly became known that I was the one to go to for advice. I began to see why my parents were Maxing my Wisdom, and continued onwards after my 18th birthday.
Now, as I assign my 30th and final increase to my Wisdom attribute and ascend to the heights of enlightenment, I finally come to the realization that all this - Maxing, Metas, life itself - it doesn't matter in the end. It doesn't matter one bit, not at the highest of levels of Oneness. But we don't live there, at those highest of levels. We live in the dirt and granularity of individuality. So go - do it. Ask the questions. Do the things. Be scared, be safe, be silly, be serious, be whatever it is you want to be. But most of all, be present, here, now, in the moment. Because in the end, it won't matter, but in the Now - it's totally worth it. | Nobody else believes in me, laughing at me and telling me I've wasted my life. They just don't understand. They look at me and think, 'There he goes, writing prompter. He'll never amount to anything.' But they just don't get it. I've devoted my life to inspiring others. It's not so simple a thing, to be the bedrock of creative expression itself. I am the muse!
I have spent so much of my life practicing my craft and honing my skills in order to give others the opportunity to break out of their shells. To see that they are capable of so much more than what they think they are. I am the inkwell of the heart of the face of the internet and it is my duty to never run dry.
They don't understand or believe, no matter how much I wish they did. This is my life's work and my duty to humanity. The legacy that I will leave behind is to support the legacy that others will leave behind. The power that I have is to empower those that need that small nudge towards greatness. Creation is a collaborative process and I devoted myself to that ideal.
Never forget, that though you may doubt me... I will never doubt you! | 2018-09-12T08:27:25 | 2018-09-12T07:01:42 | 623 | 20 |
[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. | "You aren't supposed to kill them."
That was what they all said.
"You can't kill people!"
As if they hadn't done the same thing, over and over again.
"Villains kill people!! You're a Villain."
That was how it started. I didn't care. They were hypocrites, the lot of them. A mass-murderer? Me? What about all the lives of the "civilians" killed by the villains? What about the government, who accidentally created All the supers? Mass Murderer my ass. All I can do, my "super power" is make you blink. Oh, and make you a bit tired. That's it. No supersonic flight. I'm not a speedster. I can't control people's minds. No shapeshifting.
"So, little Hero. You're going to sit here with me and Staring Contest's husk of a body. I watched you kill those kids yesterday. I watched you rush into the building, blowing a hole in the side, feeding it fresh oxygen. I watched you pull kids out so fast it broke their necks. And I'd recommend that you Don't Blink." | 2017-06-12T07:49:37 | 2017-06-12T06:36:00 | 1,670 | 45 |
[WP] Everybody in the world has a superpower that compliments their soulmates superpower. When together, both their powers increase in strength exponentially. You have the most useless power ever, when one day......
Edit: Wow! This has blown up.. Massive thanks for the gold, it's great to see my prompt inspiring so many great stories.
'Til next time peeps... | **Part 1 of 4**
The greatest stars aren't born, they're made. The words were written across the wall of John's room when his phone rang.
"Hey John, you want to go to the beach?" the voice on the other end asked.
"Dude, the beach man? I went to the beach once. It was a nightmare. I spent hours getting rid of the sand. It got everywhere, stuck everywhere, and took me weeks to get rid of. I swear, if someone throws rice at me at my wedding I'll likely have to spend my honeymoon in jail for murder."
"Oh right, the gravity thing. Yeah, uh, maybe next time. We'll hit up the arcade, alright?"
"Sure thing man. Later." *click*
John sighed and looked around his room. It was a normal looking room. Perhaps immaculately clean, but otherwise normal. Not a single scrap of loose paper or speck of dust. A series of heavy plastic boxes with latched lids lined one wall, filled with all of his miscellaneous items. Posters adorning the wall were encased in heavy frames firmly nailed to the wall as if each one was a precious artifact you might find in a museum.
"You'd think that a guy that even inanimate objects are mildly attracted to would have an easier time at finding and attracting his soulmate." John muttered to the room. "Screw it, this room is depressing, I'm going to the library."
Although the library was only a few blocks away from his house, John got into his car and backed out of his driveway. The windows were securely rolled up, not that they could be any other way. He'd cut the wires that powered the windows long ago. Of course he'd never roll them down, but you never knew if some jackoff friend might roll one down while driving past some tree with falling leaves and then laugh as they affixed themselves to John's head for the rest of the drive. John liked the library. Nice cement parking lot and a clear path inside without any flowers or trees or potted plants in his way. He loved reading history books of the various famous heroes and their powers. It was exciting to read about the flashy couples who matched strength and speed together, or vision and hearing. But his favorites were the unlikely matches. The couples who started out really mundane, but after pairing up, really became stars.
As John entered the library, pushing some balloons out of his face as he walked through the entryway. Fortunately, they were securely tied down, and once beyond the range of their strings, they merely strained and pointed at him like weird rounded arrows. The library celebrated its 100th anniversary last week. There had been far more balloons, and they weren't all tied down then. He hadn't stayed long, and when he left, a fair number of the balloons had left with him. It was embarrassing, made worse by the president of the library calling HIM personally to apologize. The celebrating committee has missed the memo that the kind regular staff had noted about him. No matter.
John walked down towards towards the historical fantasy section. Here "based on a true story" meant that real couples with real powers would go on fictional tales of grand adventure. As he started down the aisle he spotted a girl at the opposite end. Their eyes locked. Instantly, he knew.
They took one step towards each other. Then another. The books on the shelf started vibrating. John noticed out of the corner of his eyes. He knew that his powers would increase when he was with his soul-mate. In the back of his mind he thought about how his already annoying power would just become more annoying, but there she was. His eyes were transfixed on her. Two more steps. Was it getting warm in the library? John began sweating. Books began falling off the shelves and sliding across the floor to pile up around his ankles. Two more steps. He was now mere feet away, and the unnatural heat emanating from her was getting intense. Her hair was standing straight out from her head towards him, pulling them together.
One more step together, on top of the pile of books pooled at his feet. There was fear in her eyes, but neither could resist.
Both raised one arm and stretched out their fingers to touch. The heat was blistering. Just one inch more. Their fingers touched, and for a split second out of the corners of their eyes they saw the shelves come rushing towards them while bursting into flames.
John's last thought, was the words written on his wall. Something about stars...
Edit: [Part 2 here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3o7rtq/wp_everybody_in_the_world_has_a_superpower_that/cvvb8sx), though not sure if it spoils the feel of part 1...
Edit 2: [Part 3 here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3o7rtq/wp_everybody_in_the_world_has_a_superpower_that/cvvowrk) and [Part 4 here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3o7rtq/wp_everybody_in_the_world_has_a_superpower_that/cvvox0u), to close out the arc! | Christmas lights were the only illumination in the small dorm room. Empty beer cans, some crushed, some stacked, were strewn about. Music played softly in the background.
“I really needed this tonight,” said Ray. He finished his beer and set the can aside without looking.
“I’m so happy that you decided to come over,” said Jason. He smiled and dropped his gaze down to the sheets on the bed. The sheets formed small ridges and valleys that came from the two men moving closer to each other.
“So what’s your power?”
Jason shrugged and played with a loose thread on the blanket. “I control my farts.”
“What?”
A sigh escaped from Jason. He’d decided to be honest with Ray tonight because he liked him so much. “I can fart on command. I can control where they go depending on the wind.”
“Can you control the smell?” said Ray, smiling. He inched closer and ran a finger over the back of Jason’s hand.
“No. It depends on what I eat.” Jason cleared his throat and finished his beer. “What’s your power?”
Ray’s face turned red. Jason couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol or embarrassment. “I control drafts.”
“No shit?” said Jason. He laughed. “You and I would be a perfect team.”
The song changed. An instant of silence between the music brought Jason and Ray together. They hesitated then rushed together and began kissing. As one they laid down, hands groping and caressing.
The dorm room door opened and harsh fluorescent light spilled across the room. “Oh, shit. Sorry guys, sorry,” yelled Jason’s roommate Marcus.
“Didn’t you see the sock on the handle?” yelled Jason. “I’ve got someone in here”
Marcus shielded his eyes and began closing the door. “Really sorry guys. There was no sock. No sock.”
Jason clenched his fists. He flexed his muscles and stood up. “Dennis,” he yelled at the top of his lungs. It echoed throughout the room. He stalked out of the room and down the hall yelling for Dennis.
Ray followed behind him, struggling to put his shirt back on. Marcus continued to make apologies as he walked several steps behind Ray. Heads popped out of rooms as the three went down the hall.
They stopped at the end of the hallway at an open door. Jason pounded on the door and walked inside the meticulously clean room. Ray and Marcus stood side by side in the doorway.
“What the fuck are you doing, Dennis?”
Dennis turned from his computer without getting up from his desk. “Relations aren’t allowed in the dorm, Jason.” He smiled.
Marcus and Ray could hear Jason grinding his teeth. He clenched and unclenched his fists and took a step forward. A look of concentration came over his face and a small squeak could be heard.
Ray squinted so hard he thought he could see the fart moving toward Dennis. He stopped all of the drafts, the air from the HVAC and any other small movements of air. Time slowed down.
The stupid smile slipped from Dennis’ face. He sniffed then retched. His eyes went wide then doubled over and vomited. He fell to his hands and knees, continuing to vomit. Tears streamed down his face. Between heaves he sobbed.
Jason looked back to Ray, who smiled. Jason turned back to Dennis and gave the prone man an evil grin. “Don’t fuck with me again, Dennis.”
| 2015-10-10T08:52:41 | 2015-10-10T08:11:16 | 150 | 57 |
[WP] After you die, you are revived to the same day when you were 16, getting to relive your life again until your death, making any changes you want. After your 100th revive, you're getting sick of this shit. | "It's like Groundhog Day. But then, instead of repeating every day, I'm reliving my life over and over again. Could you even imagine what that's like? And I start at the worst possible time in my life too. I'm way too old to act like teenage angst. You know you aren't even able to communicate properly after a while? I've seen a wife and sometimes kids die ten, twenty, thirty times. I've intentionally *ignored* my wife so I could spare myself seeing her die again. You think someone like me has time to listen to the average dribble of daily life? No. Quite frankly I'm sick of it."
Jacob crossed his arms, drawing a deep breath after the tirade he just finished. The man across him stared at the clipboard in front of him, carefully finishing his last few notes.
"What are--," Jacob started again, but the man interrupted him by holding up his index finger. With a deep sigh, Jacob leaned back on the leather couch.
"Right," the man across him said, carefully clearing his throat. "So what do you want from me?"
Jacob laughed. "I mean, your type generally tries to offer some council."
The psychiatrist smiled back. "I feel like that would be pointless. I won't pretend to have the insight to make you happy again. No, I'm wondering about what it is *you* want."
"I want it to end," Jacob replied, instantly. "By all accounts I've lived over a good five thousand years, so you can spare me that concerned look. I've lived so much I'm sick of it. Going to bed and not waking up seems like a highly underrated experience."
"Of course the people who consider that a less pleasent experience don't get another go," the psychiatrist retorted.
"Sure. But you know what the biggest problem is? None of it *matters*. I lived for myself, I lived for my country, I did just about everything someone could expect from a person. I started wars, stopped them, invented medicine, saved children across the world, became rich and just about everything else. You'd think you'd be content with leaving behind a better world. But I don't. I just go back and have to do it over again. It's not like that Tom Cruise movie, where there's an endgame. I'll just go on forever and forever and forever."
"Until you don't, of course."
Jacob frowned. "What do you mean?"
The psychiatrist smiled. "You're not going to tell me you've never wondered about why *you*, of all people in the world, have the ability to do it all over? Nothing that exists in our current knowledge would lead us to believe that's even possible. Honestly I don't think we will ever theorize this phenomenon to actually exist, let alone discover a way to do it. So that leads me to ask this question." And he slowly turned around the clipboard. Underneath some scribbles stood a question:
"Who or what did this?"
Jacob repeatedly tapped his fingers on the couch in the silence that followed. "Of course I've thought about it," he started, frowning as he tried to mold his thoughts into words. "But I don't know more than I did before."
The psychiatrist checked his watch and stood up. "It's been 5PM for a while now, I think we've enough for today. Jacob, haven't you ever wondered what *the* purpose is. Not your purpose, specifically, but the purpose of that fact you're reviving at a point in time? What's the point in that?"
Jacob shrugged.
"I feel like you should direct more of your attention to that. Something or someone put you up to this, and I can't imagine they're just letting you fool around forever. And even if they do, I'm sure they're checking up on you. Somehow. You're telling me you've never spotted a strange consistency despite your surroundings changing massively every time?"
"Nothing that I can think of right away, at least." Jacob stood up and shook the psychiatrist's hand.
"Food for thought, then. I'll see you next week, Jacob."
Outside, Jacob zipped up his jacket all the way to his neck, protecting him from the cold wind. He hadn't gotten his driver's license yet this time around, so he'd just walk home. The snow crunched under his feet as he made his way home. Mr. Rekam, the friendly neighbor living across their house, waved as Jacob came home. He'd always done that, and as Jacob opened the door he waved back without a second thought.
"How was school today?", his mom asked as he dropped his bag in the hallway.
"Great mom, loads of homework though - I'll be down for dinner," Jacob replied as he walked up the stairs. He closed the door behind him and laid down on his bed.
"Now, what about those consistencies," Jacob mumbled, as he started to reflect on his previous lives. | "YOU!"
Chrissy sighed, closing her locker door. Down the hall, Mark fumed, his face beet red. Probably looking to start another fight. No one really understood why he'd gotten so aggressive lately - a flip had been switched overnight, and he'd gone from the meekest guy in school to the being detained by the police three times.
Chrissy looked down the hall to see who his next victim was, only to watch the area clear out, people scurrying away from her. She felt a hand clasp her arm, tightening around it like a vice.
Dragged to the side and slammed against the locker, Mark loomed over her. His hand squeezed harder and harder on her arm - she was sure she'd lost circulation by now, not that that mattered with Mark looking like he'd kill her on the spot.
His gaze boring into her, she looked away and swallowed hard.
"Can you... stop... squeezing my arm? It really hurts," Chrissy said quietly. She could feel the squeezing stop, though his grip was still tight. A little more reasonable than she thought. Still afraid to face him, she looked down the hall, hoping to see a teacher. To no avail, of course; whenever Mark went on a rampage, they always made themselves scarce.
"I have tried everything," Mark said suddenly. A long pause hung in the air. Chrissy realized he was waiting for her to say something.
"Have you now?" Mark's grip began to tighten again. Wrong answer. "I-I mean, maybe there's something you've just, uh, thought wouldn't work, so you didn't try-"
"I have tried everything!" Mark's voice resounded through the halls, drowning out a few small gasps that could be heard around the corner. "I've tried dating you, I've tried marrying you, having children with you, divorcing with you, avoiding you, giving you a promotion, setting you up, making you rich, making you poor, fulfilling your dreams, fulfilling your families dreams, saving you, killing-"
"S-stop right there!" Chrissy stalled, her mind trying to process what he was saying. "I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Yes you do! Right before I died, you told me you'd always known-"
"I don't! And what's this about dying-"
"Stop lying to me!" Mark slammed his fist into the locker just above Chrissy's head. The impact rung in her ears, but she didn't care. She was focused on him now, her glare matching his, her indignation rising.
"Why won't you just let me die?" Mark said, his tone low.
"I don't know," Chrissy said, pushing him away. He let go of her arm and stood in the middle of the hall, his shoulders hunched as if carrying a huge backpack. For a moment, he looked as if he was going to cry. But Chrissy didn't care.
"But if I ever find out, I'll make sure you don't," Chrissy said, massaging her arm. Mark straightened his back and started to move, but she was already in his face. "And that'll be on you."
*Feedback appreciated.* | 2017-09-25T11:09:16 | 2017-09-25T11:09:09 | 410 | 43 |
[WP] Due to a minor typo, the city starts building homeless smelters. | A small crowd gathered around the facade of the new building. The steel plating of the walls stared at them, little bolts jutting from the joints, glints of sunlight highlighting the bald heads of the men dressed in smart suits.
The door opened unceremoniously, revealing a grinning figure with a yellow safety helmet perched on his head. The helmet seemed to meld perfectly to him, as if it had never moved or been moved in the past 34 years or so.
"Greetings all. Im Robert Scottsby, and welcome to the town's first ever homeless smelter."
A small, abrupt applause lived and died from the palms of the now sweaty suited men.
"Come inside and I'll show you around this cutting edge technology of city development. Truly, no other solution to the homelessness issue has been more refined, or more elegant for that matter."
A large, plexiglass panel stoid before the small group of men, now standing on tiptoes, trying to get a glance.
A large conveyor belt loomed over an oversized hopper, with curious dry stains on the edges of the contraption
"As you can see, those that we round up are searched and stripped of unwanted narcotics or dangerous itemsand ferried into the opening of the smelter."
As the words flowed from Robert's mouth, the conveyor belt roared to life, going at a much faster rate than it seemed to operate at before.
Two skinny figures sat cross-legged on the conveyor, swiftly shuttled towards the hopper.
"The materials go into the top-"
The two figures fell into the great steel beast
"-and our technology begins its magic-"
Some heavy rumbling visibly shook the structure, with odd, unexplainable noises jumping out of the cracks and seams that the machine owned.
"-and BEHOLD!"
A siren sounded, and a large cylinder shifted into view. It looked much like an antiquated boiler, with a large padded rim that sat on the floor.
The cylinder slowly raised itself- a smooth, single action without hitch or fumble. The unwavering gaze of the men were slowly moved to firmly attached stares.
Underneath the cylinder stood a well-groomed youth, complete with formal clothing and a confident demeanour.
"The workforce will never have to worry again, gentlemen, as our smelter will be able to provide you with any type of employee you require. However, training will have to be provided by your company, as we do not offer that feature."
The small group clapped, a bit louder and longer this time, and the youth clapped with them, nodding in apparent agreement. | I picked up a newspaper from the pavement, and my eyes caught the headline. Horrified, I went on to read the piece.
>THE END OF THE HOMELESSNESS DISEASE
Our Supremem Leader Jim has ordered that homelessness be excised. Homelessness is a disease, He said, in a televised interview, that was watched by everyone. Our Supreme Leader ordered that 10, 000 Homeless Smelters be built immediately for the glory of our nation. The order came yesterday, on a document signed by the Supreme Leader himself. The new smelters are now being built, and will be opened tomorrow. All homeless people are required to submit themselves to the authorities immediately. It is high time we end this disease!
Fuck. I am homeless. | 2016-10-20T00:26:34 | 2016-10-19T23:45:08 | 60 | 13 |
[WP] As a young child you made an innocent wish to be granted a power that in hindsight was just whimsical and silly. Now you have grown up but you still have the power - how do you use it now as an adult? | It was nearly twenty years ago now. I was sitting in the middle of an over crowded storage unit, while my father scoured it for anything of value. My tiny searching hands probed the depths of a large wooden box, and emerged with a beautiful and elegant lamp, inlaid with all manner of swirls, beautiful designs. It took barely a touch before the lamp began to emit a soft, warm glow. My father, being thoroughly engrossed in an album of collectible stamps, would hardly have noticed if I lit the entire unit on fire.
A cloud of wispy smoke began to shoot from the lamp billowing upwards in the most peculiar fashion It formed the shape of a man with a light brown skin, a purple turban, and an enormously large mustache. From his waist downwards was a simple trail of smoke leading to the spout of the lamp. He stared intently at me with his arms crossed in the most proper genie fashion. He stretched out one hand to display a single finger. One wish.
To a child of hardly seven, the fantastical was nearly commonplace. Every day was a new adventure, every story just as real as the one I now seemed to be living. Perhaps these selfsame stories misrepresented the maliciousness of genies. Or perhaps I had just found one in a particularly benevolent frame of mind. Either way, my small wish was not tainted or twisted or wrapped on its head in any way. It was simply granted, and the genie was allowed his rest.
"I want to make friends."
It was a simple wish. A child's wish. A child who was not overly liked by his peers. The wish was granted tenfold. Now, friends were something to be made in a second, a moment, and nearly none were spared from the genie's awesome might. By the end of the grade I was personally tutored by every teacher, I was the most popular, and was always given the best of everything, even when someone else had earned it. Having friends, it seemed, had its benefits.
This particular boon made the entirety of my life rather simple and easy. Extensions on projects were frequent, free food was a given, and I had my pick of any job available. Because of this, it may come as quite a shock to know that since the day I made that wish I have regretted it. Everything I have done, everything I have, is due to the genies powers. What of my success have I gained on my own? I am the worlds youngest CEO, and a billionaire, simply by merit of other people forfeiting their hard work in the sake of 'friendship'. Can I really be called a friend after I've stolen so much?
That question has plagued me for years. Are my friends true friends? Or mere machinations of some supernatural power? If I had wished for candy, or ice cream, or money, my life today would be drastically different. I would have less friends, that is for certain, but would those friendships be more valuable?
After nearly a decade of searching I found it. The small little unassuming lamp sat on my polished rosewood desk. It had seemed so large in my hands all those years ago. Not one person had touched it since its rediscovery. A personal favor to me from many 'friends'. Twenty years the book had said, twenty years before the genie would grant another wish. Tomorrow was twenty years to the day from that fateful encounter. Tomorrow is the day I discover who my true friends are. | John's eyelids flutter and he slowly comes to. At first the man is groggy and doesn't take notice of his surrounding - the white walls, the smell of medicine and the beeping of a heart rate monitor. But after a few seconds pass, he realizes where and why he is.
*Fuck* he mutters to himself quiet as not to wake up his mother who is sleeping on the chair by his bed, all snuggled up under her coat.
The clock on the wall shows that it just past midnight and in a way that gives John relief. *At least the worst day of my life is over.*
It started out like such a regular day. Wake up at seven. Go to work at eight. Leave work at five. Up until that point the worst thing that happened was overhearing a fat joke about himself, but he was used to those because he was overweight and had been since his childhood. And then he got home. His wife started to cry and scream and called him a fat fuck, told him that she couldn't stand him no more and was having an affair, and was leaving. This part gets a little fuzzy. John recalls running after her on the street... The dark street, and then impact.
His stomach rumbles.
John removes his covers with the hand that isn't in a cast and glances at his hospital pajamas. The bottoms have pockets.
He takes something out of one of the pockets. After quietly unwrapping the paper, John is chowing down on the chocolate, teary-eyed.
*Fucking Mars bars,* he mutters. | 2015-03-07T02:49:26 | 2015-03-07T01:52:00 | 154 | 11 |
[WP] "This is not my job! This is the exact opposite of my job!" screamed the grim reaper as the human went into labour.
Inspired by a post I saw on the internet about the grim reaper in sims in the same situation.
edit: Holy Thread Batman! did not expect this to blow up at all.
edit 2:So many good stories I can't keep up! really warms my heart that the community accepted this prompt. | "This is not my job! This is the exact opposite of my job!" screamed the grim reaper as the human went into labour.
"but surely you must have something within you. Some humanity left." she pleaded.
"I was never human to begin with." he said.
"We were born together, me and life, fraternal twins. Some think I'm from the devil and her heavenly but no. I am just as ethereal as life."
The place was littered with bodies from the war, Death had collected her husband the night before within the town and her mother wasn't going to make it because within the hour she would be executed by the rebels for walking without any money.
"Surely, are you a stone that you do nothing as I suffer?" she asked in tears.
"Miss, you are not the first and you are not the last to be in this predicament. You will die, your child will die before coming out and there will be no life to begin with."
Death could see her hourglass there were only five minutes left. As he got his scythe ready he heard the sound of her pushing.
An audible "shit." escaped him. He could see the child's head coming out. The child would probably have a tiny hourglass. Only a few hours at best to taste this world before it was no longer of this world.
"I think she deserves some more time brother." he heard the melodious voice say. Life had appeared to do her job. She hovered over him with her buxom figure gazing shamefaced at him.
"Not today, sister." he said rising up. He was still upset over her giving Agnes the Witch extra time. He was not one to do a job twice.
"I think today," Life moved to add more sand to Mistrin's hourglass.
"I said no." Death struck out at life who dodged faster then her large frame was expected to.
"This is my job. I understand you don't like, it but it is what it is. No extras, not today. I wait for no man, woman, or child."
Life absorbed the shock of being struck at quite quickly. She then stood up to her full height and lunged at Death. A brief scuffle ensued as the two fought to both do their job. Life was stronger but Death had a weapon. Mistrin's hourglass stood by her the last grains trickling in. Life managed to cease Death in a chokehold. She was trying to take his scythe away when the threw it at Mistrin. It sliced her neck, the palpitating breath ceased and her muscles relaxed.
She collapsed a bloody mess her child still wailing. Life rushed to the child. Death waited as the the grey smoke of her soul started to rise out of her. It formed her face. A face of anguish.
"NOOOO!!!" She yelled out. She tried to get back in. To even Death's surprise her muscles contracted. Once more she started pushing. Control of physical objects was something only some ghosts mastered over a year. For her to posses her body as so. It must have taken all her effort.
"The Chest is almost out!" life said. They could see the child's hour glass forming.
"No!" Death yelled. He grabbed hold of Mistrin's soul by the neck and started to yank her out.
"Why !" life yelled.
"I need to do the introductions."
"It can wait!" she yelled at him. She held Mistrin's leg tighter and into her life's own essence flowed, Mistrin's ghost was invigorated. Just enough to give a few more seconds of fight. Death pulled at her when suddenly her soul dissolved. Death fell back as her body went limp.
"What did you do?" life asked still not moving.
"Me? That was you." Death said rising. An argument ensued and with neither party ready to take the blame Death rose to go to his next victim.
As Death was about to rise a wail pierced the night. It was so loud even Death had to cover his ears. He looked down to see life as astonished as the child started to cry. With only the feet left the child defiantly slithered out determined to come into this world without anyone's help.
"What have we done?" Life asked. The child was flailing but the hourglass did not appear. It faded, turning into its bare soul, then it became or flesh and bone once more . It flickered between human and ghost it's wailing a staccato of sacrilege.
***
In the heavens Gabriel stirred awake. "What is that racket?" He looked around but there was no one. He walked to the other angels to find that they too could hear the fluctuating wails and had spread out to find it.
In hell Satan shifted uneasily in his seat. He sensed the birth of something unlike him. Something powerful, something unloved. He could hear the wails as did the demons. At once they scattered to find the source of the crying. Hopefully they could silence it.
***
/r/pagefighter.
| It had been so long since his world changed. Dying has a certain scent, a certain feeling to it that was timeless. It made everything the same, as if time had stopped.
This was different though. Time raced and he was out of his element. The house shook from the wind. The bottles rolled and clinked. The old dying scent left. The woman was screaming. She was bursting.
"Help me! Please fucking help me! I don't care what you say. You have to help!"
She knew who he was. They always know him when he comes. However he looks, that old feeling follows and everyone knows what it is even if they have never experienced it before.
"He's coming!"
He knelt and told her to open her legs.
"Breathe!" he said.
He wondered if he had ever uttered those words before. He was scared. He wanted it to be over.
"Push."
The stuggle was intense. The woman was seating. She nearly fell off the couch. He kicked the wine glasses aside and one broke as it rolled. There was no electricity and the shadows were hungry, eating the dying light.
"Help me!"
She was weak. Her eyes were dead but for this last fight.
"I have never done this before," he said.
"Then fucking do it now!"
He knelt like a catcher. He knew where the baby would come from and that was a start.
"Push then! Push with all your life!"
She did. The world was full of painful grunts and then quiet and then the wind. He did not breathe, Death, but he held his breath nonetheless. Then there were cries and the world was filled with someone new.
He held the baby and looked at it. The baby recognized him, same as anyone else, and he stroked its head. It could hardly move, the child, and its life would be hard. His mother had done too much damage.
*Perhaps it would be best...*
"No!" she screamed. "No! Hand him to me! He isn't yours."
He handed the child over and she held him. It was not his position to decide these things. She looked at her son and her life flashed once more, soaking in the baby's existence, connecting for the first and last time.
"I love you," she said. "You look like a Jamie."
"No one will know his name," he said.
The old scent was returning and time had begun to slow.
She looked at him. She held the baby tighter, almost hurting him. She let go.
"Will they find him?"
"I will not find him for some time."
She was crying. He never regretted his job, but it was never easy.
"I'm a failure," she said. "I'm a drunk and a junkie. It'll all fall onto him. It'll fall to Jamie."
"You can always start anew," he said. "The child has not started yet."
She put the baby on the couch and stroked his face. She looked up at Death. She had met him before in her life. They had passed each other, always close, but never near enough. This time was different. He held out her hand.
"I will miss him," she said.
"I know," Death said.
He led her out of the house and the night had fallen. The winds grew strong and cold and the dark disquiet fell amongst the dilapidated houses that dotted that stretch. Only the crying of the baby remained. | 2017-01-31T04:10:26 | 2017-01-31T03:38:29 | 218 | 96 |
[WP] In space, wars are typically quick. One side attacks and then the other side surrenders. When aliens attack a human city they belive the humans are defeated. They are not prepared for what the humans call "Retribution" | General Gaffney rubbed his temples at the head of the table. Without opening his eyes, he muttered, "Major, start over from the beginning. I want to make sure I have this straight."
"Yes sir. The attack began at oh-nine-hundred and current intel has it lasting 17 --"
Colonel Thompson broke in. "And it was Akron? Akron, *Ohio*. That's what they targeted?"
Major Collins licked his lips, eyes darting down to the report before him briefly. "That is correct according to the information we have received, sir. Akron. In the state of Ohio."
Collins hesitated, gaze sweeping the table, before resuming. "And the attack lasted 17 seconds, with --"
"Minutes," Gaffney growled.
"Sir?"
"You said seconds, Major."
"Uh...affirmative, sir. If you look on page 7 of the report, it's quite clear, there's a, ah, footnote...and everything. *It is indeed surprising that after the staging and build-up that took place in Earth's atmosphere that the actual attack was so brief, but review from multiple sources confirms that it was over in almost a quarter of a minute.*"
"Fuck these assholes!" Gaffney was on his feet, having hurled a ballpoint pen across the room, narrowly missing the sergeant standing at the door. There was a pause. "Seventeen *fucking* seconds? It's just...okay, Major, skip ahead. The target. What was the target?"
"A building called the Huntington Tower on Mill Street in downtown Akron." Major Collins shifted in his seat, then added, quietly, "In Ohio."
Gaffney's eyes bulged as he whirled on the Major, who involuntarily wheeled back in his chair a few inches. "And what do our internal reports say the strategic value of the Huntington Tower on Mill Street is, precisely?"
"Sir, there's no...the people who put together the report were able to glean some information from a..." Major Collins looked down at his papers, mumbling.
"Speak *up*, Major."
"Yes, sir, sorry, sir. The, uh, intel, such as we have, is gleaned from a Google search and includes most of the Wikipedia article about the building, which states it is 300 feet tall with numerous one- and two-bedroom apartments. Sir."
"Good *gravy*, Major! Three hundred feet! It must have at least a dozen stories!"
"27, sir. Uh, according to...Wikipedia. Sir."
"27. And how many casualties were there?"
"Sir, the munitions used were primarily...non-explosive projectiles. And as such --"
"Major, I have a giant headache. Let's speak clearly. When you say non-explosive projectiles..."
"...rocks, sir. They attacked us with...by dropping rocks."
"On the Huntington Building."
"Yes, sir."
"In Akron."
"Yes, sir." Major Collins closed his mouth, opened it, and then thought better of appending the name of the state to the end of his utterance.
"And the casualties?"
"37 broken windows and a handful of minor cuts and bruises, sir. An elderly lady who was crossing Mill Street also fell and broke her hip."
"And what are they doing now?"
The major gave a nod to an aide, who hit a button on his laptop. The screen in the conference room was bathed in the light of the ceiling-mounted projector. It showed dozens of gleaming-silver spacecraft flying in a clearly orchestrated pattern - moving sideways in unison, then back the other way, then doing an aileron roll. Then the pattern repeated.
"Audio, if you would, Major." The forced congeniality in the general's voice was somehow more menacing than the outburst of moments ago.
Tinny music filled the conference room. While it was clearly exotic sounding, the staccato of the quick notes and the rising tonality certainly made it sound like a victory song of some kind.
General Gaffney stared around the room at the other officers present, watching their faces as the music played. "That'll do." The speakers went silent.
"Well, lady," Gaffney said, nodding to Brigadier General Meyers, "and gentlemen...to judge by your faces, none of this makes any more sense to you than it does to me. My headache is getting worse, and I have to go to the rehearsal dinner for my son's wedding tonight. So tell the gang at Wright-Pat to light these assholes up and hopefully never talk about it again."
The order was given to the pilots on standby at the air force base in Dayton. This time, the attack lasted 7 minutes and 29 seconds. The pilots would later report it was the easiest mission they had ever flown. | War. War never changes. Only weapons are new. Yet it is not the weapons, but the men who handle them, who win victories
And so it was men who redefined war on the galactic scale.
For millineal war had followed a simple formula. Once relations broke Down full armada would be assembled and hurled at the enemy. A battle would follow, either an assault or a pitched battle in netural space and victors would be determined in just a few engagements.
During an assault if the aggressor got within orbital range it would bombard the planets capital institutions until a surrender was made. Land battles were almost unheard of but for uprisings but would typically be solved in a few large engagements.
After a surrender concessions were made and peace continued.
This form of war lasting up until the 'Chinese spirit' incident.
The Chinese Spirit was a ship sent after the new horizon to test whether generational ships could be practical for humans.
A large craft was built to house a few hundred lab rats. The craft was fully self suistainible, producing enough food and recycling water to ensure the rats could continue living.
After several generation s the rats were discovered by the Grafene, who, Dispite clear communication were able to confirm their sentintly and wrongly assumed they built the craft. This lead to the activation of 'Space Faring' for earth and allowed an attack.
The Grafene invaded with all of their might but even after a short but effective bombing run earth refused to surrender.
After flattening most population centres from orbit earth still held resolute. Fearing shame and showing weakness to other powers the Grafene decided to continue and start a ground invasion.
The operation went to pot almost immediately. Instead of grouping up and having a large fight (which the humans knew they'd lose) they separated into smaller groups and fought small scale skirmishes.
The Grafene failed to respond to these tactics and suffered defeat after defeat.
With each loss the humans absorbed their weapons into their arsenal's, progressing from simply stealing to imitating and finally improving on the designs.
For years the humans whittled away at the occupying Grafene, stealing weapons and supplies and building vast Vaults deep underground.
The Human League, the now default government and sole organising power of humanity became increasingly bold in its attacks cumilating In the Mongolian spaceport attack.
The Grafene had built their primary landing port in the Mongolian plains. At anyone time thousands of orbital craft were stationed their and 5 space evaluators and been constructed to keep earth supplied and extract its ores and valuables.
The Mongolian push, as it was known, was the first battle the galaxy could understand. Nearly a hundred thousand troops were involved in the assault on the port, recking devastion and quickly stealing and towing craft away to reverse engineer.
Of corse the craft were secondary objective as the troops primary target was using the elevators to get into orbit...
But we'll learn more about that in tomorrow's lesson | 2019-12-17T12:02:20 | 2019-12-17T11:41:49 | 611 | 106 |
[WP] You've eaten your Chinese takeout and open your fortune cookie. It says, "If you kill a killer, the number of killers in the world stays the same." That gives you an idea: you'll kill two of them. | The dry, sweet fortune cookie crunches in my mouth as I consider the fortune.
"If you kill a killer, the number of killers in the world stays the same."
Part of the dry cookie catches in my mouth and I start coughing. I can feel my eyes bulge and face turn red as I scramble for water. Deep breathing. Good.
"That's dumb," I said aloud in the bustling restaurant, more to myself than to anyone else. Life isn't a see-saw, it's not a perfectly balanced scale, it's not outer space constantly equalizing. The world is full of humans, and the amount of killers grows as they stay alive and new people became killers.
That fortune cookie was full of crap.
I can count at least ten examples of serial killers that killed multiple people. What do you get if you're not a killer? Why, killed of course. If you don't kill a killer, the number of non-killers goes down as they get killed.
I don't feel full any more. I regret getting the Chinese takeout on Sarah's recommendation. Too many thoughts from that darned fortune cookie. What do you call a non-killer who kills for abnormal reasons? What is a killer who doesn't kill non-killers?
I look around, weigh my life with the weights of life and death attached. Then I decide, yes. It's worth it to become a new type of killer.
\-----
Seth Whittaker, convicted of manslaughter. A year and a half in jail due to family connections, a good lawyer, and good behavior. Two new restraining orders in the last three months.
I pull the mask up over my face. I am just another student in the neighborhood, wearing a ski mask due to the recent chill.
Seth lives in the house twenty feet away from me. I walk up to the door with all the ease of a friend who had been coming here for years. I don't even knock; Seth doesn't lock his doors, as I've found from the cameras I planted around his home.
I step inside, scuff my feet on the welcome mat to knock off the frost from out of doors, shutting the entryway behind me. Seth's voice comes from the dining room; I know it well.
"Donovan? I thought you were-"
He stops as he rounds the corner and sees me walking up to him. Ten feet. Five feet.
"Who the hell are-"
I fire; the mechanism in my hand launches a thin steel pipe cut into a triangle tip into his heart. I've been practicing for the last four weeks, and have been able to peg running rats with it; Seth goes down.
I built the mechanism out of parts bought at construction stores and scavenged from dumpsters. A miniature reverse crossbow, collapsible and compact. This is Mark 14. It fires ninety pounds of force from the spring-steel arms and has six different bolt types.
I take a rag out of my pocket and tear the pipe out of Seth's heart with a squelch. He's staring at my face, wheezing, searching for recognition, any sign of familiarity or reason, but there is none.
The pipe is wiped off on his chest as I watch the life drain out of him, then washed in his sink. I tuck it and the crossbow back into my camera case and put the rag back into my pocket, then exit from the back door and out into the forest behind. Then I'm on a bus headed for Idaho, where I will begin working on my next mark. All the equipment used on this job has already been destroyed beyond repair, burnt, and melted down into slag.
Happy voices on the bus bring me back to the present, away from the future. A killer kills people. What do you call someone who killed killers? By killing, they've given up the right to be people, as have I. But I didn't kill a person. I killed a killer.
I ponder this as the bus carries on its fourteen hour drive. The message on the fortune cookie pops into my head, trying to point fingers, but I know the truth.
There is one less killer in the world. And soon, there would be another.
\-----
r/bellumaster | "Two for the price of one." I muttered to myself before crumpling the thin paper into a tiny ball, tossing it to the floor. I eyed my 'Table gun' which sat just beyond reach, obscured by the stacks of newspapers, used paper towels and porno mags. The Newspapers I wanted to keep but they were stained from pizza the week before. They were about me. My name wasn't on them, but I knew they were about me.
"Bad business." I thought, "Terrible fucking business, half the pay, double the work." I felt like they were taunting me as the paranoia set in. They said that the Jade Dawn was the best Americanized Chinese food in this part of the city. 'They' were the kind of people I knew I could get work from. I could barely stomach half a bite of soup which they claimed to be beef chow mein. It was my fault, I violated the one law I put out for myself: never work with an 'organization'.
You never knew if they were legit. A woman claims her husband beats her and offers me 10k in cash, and thinks I'll have sympathy or something. I didn't ask questions. Didn't need to know the details, just needed enough to make sure they weren't a cop. You can always tell. It's the look of shame in their eye that gives them away. Not the organizations though. They were proud of it, it was business to them and I'm sure any L.E.O. with a hard-on for 'getting the bad guy' would call it business too. I had my doubts that these punks were actually Yakuza. Still, money is money.
I grabbed a 'clean' gun that was in a bag at my feet. Untraceable. One use only. With two targets, the Feds could draw a connection and it could be traced back to me. But I was tired and wanted to be done with this. It was going to be the last two. I gazed over my messy rat-hole of an apartment and I eyed the paper I had unceremoniously tossed just a moment ago. I bent down and retrieved it, unfolded it, and placed it back on the table.
I guess I kept it as a reminder. It was right. Two more bodies just meant two more guards at my execution.
| 2019-01-30T20:24:25 | 2019-01-30T20:13:35 | 55 | 31 |
[WP] The galactic empire demands tribute from its subjects, which is gifted directly to the emperor. Only the humans were spiteful enough to send a bomb. | The Goek Emperor studied the subject in front of him, bearing the tribute from the Sol System. He frowned slightly, as the male performed the necessary motions showing deference, but there is something in his posture that... does not fit the status of prey specie.
The Emperor pointed at the human, and ordered the guard captain, "Bring it here."
The guard captain marched up with four guards, each of which is 8 ft tall and almost as wide. The guards surrounded the tribute-bearer, and brought him toward the emperor. They paused at 10 meters away. The man kept his gaze lowered.
The assistant whispered into Emperor's ear, "Tribute bearer from Sol, Sector 437, designation 'John Anderson'."
"You are John Anderson of Sol," Emperor stated.
John bowed deeper, then looked up at the Emperor. For a moment, the Emperor was confused, for those are the eyes of a predator, not prey. Then in an eyeblink, the look was gone, and John spoke, "My lord, I am at your command, and my life is yours." The formal answer had been given
Emperor was... intrigued. He had read about the dominant species of Sol System, which had been conquered fifty years ago. The species known as "homo sapiens" are not the primary predator species by prowess, but through clever use of tools, were able to become the top predator species of their planet. The Emperor thought the population of Sol had been cowed, but this one... may have a bit of spirit.
The Emperor stood to his full height of over nine ft, and walked within five meters of the John. He bared his claws, and let loose a low growl. His guards stepped aside.
Most prey species would have fled, or cower in fear. The "human" merely stood there.
In blink of an eye, the Emperor had the claw at the throat of John the human. And for a split second, there was fear in John's eyes. But that was replaced by a look of triumph... then nothing.
The Emperor, still with his claw at John's throat, asked, "Why are you not afraid?"
John actually smiled, even though his neck is in danger of being eviscerated.
"What are you afraid of, John Anderson?"
John smiled again, "To quote a human scientist, 'I've accomplished enough in life so that I do not fear death'."
"And what have you accomplished, John of Sol?"
"Once I had an offspring and a mate, but they died at the hands of Goek Empire."
"You speak in riddles, John of Sol."
A messenger rushed toward them, and was stopped by the guards.
"You dare interrupt us?" Guard captain roared at the messenger.
"Unidentified ships! Lots of them!" croaked the messenger.
John started laughing.
"What do you know of this, John of Sol?" Emperor demanded.
John's smile did not falter, "It is the beginning of the end, for the Goek."
The guard captain realized what was going to happen, and he did the logical thing... he pushed the Emperor aside, but it was too late for that. It may have worked for a smaller bomb, but the Terrans planned for that.
The forcefield around a speck of anti-matter hidden within John's chest dropped. Matter met anti-matter, and everything within 1 kilometer ceased to exist.
------
On the bridge of the Terran starcruiser flagship, Admiral Jake Anderson saw the explosion that destroyed the Goek flagship.
"Flagship to all units, commence attack!"
Then he whispered a prayer for his brother.
| The King of the Ro'shaak stared down at the man and the metal box he brought in. In his booming voice he, addressed the 'hooman'. "Speak, puny one. Which planet are you from, and what gift do you bear?"
The dark skinned man gulped. This was it. He stood at his full height of 1.8 metres, and stared up at the ten metre tall being, trying to ignore the fierce looking guards surrounding him.
"My name is not important before you. I am from planet Earth, and i bear this gift of technology. Have a look, great emperor."
Indeed, when the message was broadcasted all that Earth governments panicked. The Americans wanted to declare war, the Canadians wanted to run to another planet, the Japanese suggested to just send the King the best Earth could offer. But it was the most unexpected party that came up with the most agreed solution. Quickly, the planet pooled its resources for this plan.
The King snapped his fingers and a guard opened the crate behind the human. Inside was a rectangular container, with the centre of it hollow and filled with a glowing blue substance.
"What is this! A lamp? I knew you hoomans would never be able to give a proper gift! Your species shall be eradicated within seconds! PREPARE FOR W-"
"WAIT. I have yet to show what it does."
The King considered the human's words and raised a hand.
"Very well, puny hooman. Show me what your 'earth technology' can do."
The human silently pressed the button concealed in his hand. A 5 second countdown appeared on the 'lamp'.
"TODAY YOU FALL AT THE HANDS OF ISIS. ALLAHU ACKBARRRRRRR"
Then everything went white.
The world stared at their screens. What was a massive planet was now replaced with empty space. The crazy plan had succeeded, thanks to the King's arrogance and the unnamed hero. | 2017-09-26T01:26:17 | 2017-09-26T00:18:04 | 25 | 14 |
[WP]Time travel is possible, but requires an "anchor" item created in the target era. You've gone to the year 900 using a Viking sword and the year 300 using a Roman Coin. You've just started the process using a small statue of unknown origin and it proves to be vastly older than human history. | The thing about time jumping is that it gets easier every time you do it. Before my first trip, I rolled the silver Roman denarius between my thumb and index finger, closed my eyes, and held my breath. Dalia said it would be easy. She’d made the trip dozens of times. And when had she ever lied to me?
The jump hit me like a freight train.
I wasn’t in the bunker anymore--no, I was face-first in the ancient dirt, dry-heaving, and dazed. The sun flashbulbed my eyes. Vaguely, I could hear someone yelling at me, but my head was too far away to understand what he was saying. Of course, when his sandal met my gut, I understood well enough.
But Dalia hadn’t misled me completely. It *did* get easier. Over time. A pair of cat-eyed sunglasses brought me to the 1950s. When I landed, I hopped on the bus to downtown Los Angeles without even needing to fix my tie. Later, I swung the Viking sword over my back and landed--superhero style--in a meadow by the sea. The breeze ghosted over my skin and the scent of ocean brine flooded my nose. Nothing in the twenty-fifth century ever smelled so fresh.
Today, Dalia walked into the bunker with a dark briefcase. This much was normal. The look on her face was not: her lips curled down and her brows were creased together. Even her dark hair was pulled tightly to the base of her skull in a tight bun.
“You look happy,” I said.
She didn’t comment, she only set the case on the table. “Joint mission today.”
I raised my brow. It had been years since we’d gone anywhere together. Joint missions were reserved for trainees.
“Don’t give me that look, James, ” she said, even though she hadn’t seen my face. “The orders are from the top. I was just as surprised.”
“Alright, alright--” I raised my hand in mock surrender-- “I don’t doubt you.”
Dalia opened the case and lifted free a delicate wooden statuette. “Boss wants us to survey our landing sight and photograph the area.”
I frowned. Nothing about this added up. “What, no soil samples or anything?”
“No, I just left that out because I didn’t feel like digging today.”
“You have to admit it’s weird, Dal.” I folded my arms over my chest. “I mean, they haven’t even told us what to wear.”
“Boss says our civies are fine. The landing site is remote, I guess.” Dalia palmed the statuette--which seemed to be of some sort of goddess--and offered me the other end. “Besides, when is anything we do here not weird?”
“I mean Andy brought donuts on Monday. That’s pretty normal--”
“James.”
“Fine.” I reached our and held on to the statuette where I could. The old wood felt soft and delicate beneath the pads of my fingers--if I squeezed too hard I was sure it would splinter. How had it survived so long anyway? I looked up at Dalia and gave her a wan smile. Our fingers brushed together. “Let’s go.”
The world folded in on itself as we tunnelled through time. The darkness around us wrapped and the only sound I could hear was the blood rushing in my head. I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on keeping my stomach down. This was a long trip. They could’ve at least warned us.
When the light finally broke up the darkness, I sighed in relief and let my shoulders sag. I hadn’t realized they’d been tensed. “Fucking hell,” I muttered and rubbed my eyes. “Ten bucks says we wake up tomorrow with nasty hangovers, hey Dal?”
Dal didn’t say anything. I pulled my hands from my eyes and blinked away the lingering blurriness. “Dal?”
Dal wasn’t next to me. I was in a bare and rocky clearing, covered only in a thin layer of dry snow. An icy wind whipped around and slammed into my face, leaving a raw burn in my ears. “DAL,” I cupped my hands around my mouth and turned.
It was useless. If she’d been anywhere close, I would’ve seen her. I could see for miles. I bit my lip and tried to think clearly. Where was I? When was I? I sunk to my feet and pulled my knees in close to my chest.
*Fuck*. The first rules of the mission were always clear: know where and when you’re going and go prepared. I’d done none of that. I didn’t even know what it was that I’d touched.
*Dalia. What the hell did you drag me into?*
---
/r/liswrites | Miles lay down in the dust, head cradled in his palms. His eyes wandered back and forth, trying to soak in the stars.
The vast amount of stars. The night sky was almost bright with them, and those seemed dim compared to the moon.
It was hidden that night, on a journey to some other part of ancient earth, but when it arrived, it was a marvel.
A real fucking marvel.
He sighed, feeling the weight of everything on his shoulders. And chest, and gut, and in his thoughts. He had felt… * heavy since he had arrived. *
Learning the truth only made matters worse. Miles wasn't sure he could get back this time. A time where he lay between two civilizations.
Between wasn't really correct, he corrected himself.
All these stars…
It was more than any other human had ever seen. He had found a temple early on, and it had made his heart nearly pounded out of his chest. There had been paintings, like cavemen, but…
So much different.
The building had been beautiful, yet fragile. It had contained books and gear, and somehow-- every second he was there the temple played this heartbreaking music.
He had found that he could barely stand to listen for more than a few minutes at a time. It took him months to gather resources and learn what he had learned.
And what he learned what no other human would know.
That there was life before his bipedal companions. The life that had been sweeter and smarter, and even more devastating to their home. Only they didn't dig down and strip the earth of her raw materials, no.
They reached out and took from the galaxies.
Until it burned them all alive. He hadn't met one yet, but somehow, somewhere, Miles hoped he might.
He might meet the people that shrunk the moon and ate the stars and crafted magical music that made him weep.
When nothing else in his 33 years of life had done such a thing. As a warm breeze fluttered across his face, he closed his eyes.
He had always gone back. He was smart too. He traveled through time and knew how to make calculated decisions. Educated risk.
He never calculated the Temple crumbling around him.
His feet had barely made it out the door, and when he turned around…
Dust. Everything was dust.
Miles sighed. He missed the Earth he thought he knew. And he wished he could share the one he got to witness now. For in another millennium, humans would destroy the very thing the angels built.
And there was nothing he could do.
By then, he would be dust too.
***
By more words from me, check out r/beezus_writes
For longer works by me and other authors around the block, have a peek at r/redditserials
Thank you for reading, and all feedback is welcome and appreciated! | 2020-04-17T10:44:46 | 2020-04-17T09:26:54 | 250 | 139 |
[WP] He rushes onwards like a bloody tempest, destroying all in an attempt to free you from the stake that binds you to the pyre at your feet. For before he was a Hero, he was the boy that gave you flowers. And before you were exposed and branded a Witch, you were the girl that taught him love. | "Yundara, please! Let me go! Why are you doing this?!"
The armored priestess gave the struggling witch a cheerful smile as the flames of the pyre slowly grew around her. The witch's powers would normally have been able to extinguish the flames with but a whisper and a wink, but two squads of Holy Inquisitors surrounded the witch, chanting and sealing her powers.
"Silly Cassie. You know that the Lord of Purity cannot abide darkness, even in human form."
"But we fought the Dread Lord together! Defeated him together!"
Yundara nodded. "Yes, and the Lord of Purity is grateful for your help! So grateful, he has given me permission to burn away the darkness within you, so that you may be embraced by him in the next life." The cheerful smile widened. "You should be grateful for his mercy, whore of darkness."
"No! Help me! Please!" She looked out at the villagers whose babies she had delivered, whose maladies she had cured, whose crops she had blessed. None would meet her eyes, not in the presence of High Inquisitors.
The flames did as flames did - spreading, growing, consuming wood and flesh, the crackle of burning wood, the smell of burning flesh, the screams of torment.
"CASSIE! NO!"
All present turned to see a red-and-gold-armored figure charging down the road, knocking aside Holy Knights like saplings in a storm. Some of the Holy Inquisitors moved to block him, but a gesture from Yundara held them.
The armored man rushed the pyre, throwing aside piles of burning wood with great sweeps of his gauntleted hands. Seemingly in a panic, he cut the witch, burned halfway up her body, down from the stake and cradled her in his arms.
"Oh gods, Cassie, I don't know how to heal you. Tell me what herbs to gather, what words to say, what powers to bargain with! Tell me how to save you!"
But no herbs, no words, no powers could bring back the dead. The villagers wept as they heard the knight's moans of anguish from within his helm, and even the Holy Inquisitors looked shaken. But Yundara's smile never left her face as she approached. "Brave Dragon Knight, do not weep for a woman who lived in darkness. Cry in joy that she has found the light in the next life."
The Dragon Knight's back stiffened, and his head slowly turned to face Yundara, seemingly noticing her for the first time. Laying Cassie gently on the ground, he stood, and stalked towards the Lady of Mercy. "What have you done?! She was our ally! Our friend! She saved our lives dozens of times over! We would not have defeated the Dread Lord without her aid!"
Yundara shook her head, "Silly Dragon Knight. With the Dread Lord gone, the time of darkness has passed. The High Priest of Mercy has decreed that the faithful shall not abide those who consort with darkness to live... particularly at the side of the hero of us all, the mighty Dragon Knight."
She met the advancing Dragon Knight and wrapped her arms around him, laying her head upon his armored chest, his armor still warm from the pyre. "Besides, would not the Lady of Mercy be a far more appropriate companion for the hero who drove back the darkness?"
The Dragon Knight stood frozen for a moment, then brought up his arms to wrap around the slight frame of Yundara. She nuzzled happily in his embrace, comforted by the warmth... the growing warmth...
Yundara's smile flickered slightly as she looked up at the Dragon Knight, face hidden beneath his helm. "Brave Dragon Knight... Istvan... the heat of your armor grows somewhat uncomfortable..."
She moved to step back, but the Istvan's grip on her tightened, and his armor began to glow. Yundara's beatific smile was now replaced with panic as flames began to lick at the edges of her vestments, at the end of her long silver hair. "Istvan! Please! Let me go! Why are you doing this?!"
But the Dragon Knight stood impassive as the flames rose from within his armor, their roar drowning out Yandara's screams as her hair burned and her flesh charred, their heat driving back the few High Inquisitors who dared approach.
Finally, when nothing was left of Yandara but charred bones, the Dragon Knight stood, surrounded by the flames of his namesake. He removed his helm, revealing a tear-streaked face twisted in rage and loss.
"Run back to the High Priest of Mercy. Tell him what happened here. And give him and all those who worship a god that would sanction this madness my message..."
The flames around him became a towering inferno, driving back everyone around, but the Dragon Knight's voice could still be heard clearly. "Tell them to hide. Hide beneath their pews, hide behind their altars. Because I am coming for them! All of them!"
"They will burn in the next life! BUT FIRST, THEY WILL BURN IN THIS ONE!" | Carmen heard the shouts of the soldiers at first she had heard the cardinal giving her last rites before they carried out the sentence. But now she heard soldiers shouting. She opened her eyes and saw a miraculous thing it was Ben running toward her riding a beast of some sort her Ben was coming to rescue her. Carmens heart leapt in her chest but she knew Ben was a kind soul and no warrior she closed her eyes for fear of the ladt thing her eyes would see being her love slain by the soldiers that sentenced her to death. However she opened her eyes again as she heard a loud thud on the platform she was bound to looking up she saw the largest orc she had ever seen he bore no weapons but he was large and heavily muscled. The 2 soldiers that stood guard over her pyre turned and rushed to run him down one with his spear the other a sword. Carmen was going to close her eyes again she hated the site of blood but she was transfixed. She turned towards where she last saw Ben he was rushing through the crowd still mounted on the beast it looked like a large weasal clad in armor. She heard his voice shout "save her" the orc smiled at this and replied "Thats the plan" the guards on the platform tried to run him down but he sidestepped the spear grabbing it and breaking it over his knee the other guard tried to swing his sword but the orc grabbed his wrist and with a sickening snap broke it and pushed him away. The formerly spear wielding guard drew a dagger and rushed the orc again not deterred by his colleague being disarmed. The orc side stepped one strike then 2 before smiling at the guard and grabbing his dagger hand he punched the guard once twice three times before he finally fell unconscious or dead carmen could not tell. The cardinal having seen this all grabbed his torch and begain rushing towards the tinder at Carmens feet the orc stopped smiling and ran Carmen had never seen something so big move so fast. The orc leapt and planted both his feet in the cardinals chest sending him and his torch into rhe crowd of stunned onlookers as they were pushed away by Ben riding atop his mount. The orc collected himself and went to Carmen he eyed the post she was tied to and before she could say anything he punched the post just once and the entire thing splintered to pieces.
Ben cleared the platform atop his mount taking his lover jnto his arms Carmen cried tears of joy at this reunion through sobs she said "I thought I would never see you again" Ben shook his head kissing her "I came as quickly as I could and I brought help he pointed to the orc this is my friend Thorin. Thorin gave a slight bow "friend is a strong word for a sellsword" he said laughing. Carmen scoffed "how did you afford a sellsword? " Ben shrugged sheepishly "if I work for him he said he would do one job for free" and this creature? Carmen asked. Ben laughed "This is Jezebel she is a war weasel I learned how to tame her from the great beast master Maroom anyway my love we must leave before they gather their wits. Thorin nodded in agreement away then he said. The three mounted the war weasel and were off. | 2020-11-16T06:27:30 | 2020-11-16T05:05:51 | 79 | 13 |
[WP] It's December, and you've just died in a car crash. You try to talk God into reviving you, so you can watch The Force Awakens. | “Oh come ooon!” I pleaded. “Pleeeeease?”
“Absolutely not!” Spoke the giant deity. “If I sent you back just to watch that movie, I would have to send everybody back!”
“Well why don’t you? I bet lots of people would want to see the new movie!”
“It doesn’t work like that child! Death is absolute, It always has been and always will be! If I send you back my EONS of work would become meaningless.”
“So?”
“Wha- What do you mean ‘So?’” Gods tone went from relaxed to irritated very quickly “EONS of work! Do you even know what that feels like? You can’t even comprehend how long that is! Do you remember back in 5th grade when Tommy accidentally broke the science project you spent a week working on?”
“Yyyyeah…?” I replied cautiously.
“Do you remember how mad you were? The teacher to hold you back! Now imagine that, but on steroids and you'll not even begin to approach now I would feel.”
“Yeah! I do remember! Now how mad are you that you worked so hard on the new star wars movies and now I can’t see it?”
“What are you talking about? There is a movie theater right over there!” God pointed toward the greatest movie theater I’ve ever seen with endless popcorn, and free confections. “It has every movie ever made, and ever will be made!”
“I know, but there is one thing your theater doesn’t have that mine does have!”
“Oh yeah?” God spoke. He sounded legitimately curious. “And what would that be?”
“My friends! How am I supposed to enjoy the movie if I can’t spend the next few hours talking about it with my buddies! I might as well not have even watched it at that point!”
God thought for a bit. Suddenly a huge shit-eating grin appeared on Gods huge smug face, and he shot a few lightning bolts down to earth. My friends Dan, Isaac, and Karen materialized next to me in state of confusion and sadness.
“What? No! This is not what I meant!”
“Too late!” God boomed! “Welcome to heaven and enjoy the movie.” And with that, he disappeared.
| Me boy, I don't think ye grasp the concept of heaven.
What?
It's already out over here, everything is perfect here.
Hah. I bet you're going to tell me you have half life 3 already.
...
...
Brb God.
Hold up I never said you were allowed in heaven. | 2015-10-06T10:58:10 | 2015-10-06T09:57:26 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] You are a high-ranking spy on a vital mission. Alas, you have also just pissed off the fae and they cursed you to be unable to tell a lie. There's no time to send in a replacement agent, or find a way to lift it. It's time to infiltrate the enemy and take them down- all with perfect honesty. | "Are you the spy?" She glanced at her watch as we made our way down the underground passageway.
"Mmmm, I'm the little spy of your heart, if that's what your asking." I gave her my most charming smile.
"Oh you~ stop it. But really I need to find this spy, do you know who it could be?" She pushed me away playfully before straightening her posture. The spy could threaten the whole operation.
"I do, in fact, I think he wants to ask you out to dinner." I raised an eyebrow and gave her half a smirk. Not technically a lie since she was rather attractive. Pity she's a serial killer, I kind of liked the banter we had.
"Alex, if you're not going to be useful, please stop distracting me. It's... distracting." Her eyes glanced back at my well fitted suit. It was worth getting this tailored, even if it was getting bloodied soon.
"Is that a yes?"
"Fine fine, now help me think of who it could be."
"Mmm probably someone closer than you think."
"Do you mean Jason?! That bastard, I knew he was always plotting behind my back! When we get to that meeting, we're going to have a bit of fun." She smiled wickedly. Oh right, she was also a torturer. Damn.
"Why do you think it's Jason?" I probed for her thoughts, better that I ask her questions instead of the other way around. Fucken truth fairy.
"Well... he has the worst kill record of all of us and he's always disappearing. Probably meeting government agents or something. Speaking of, where were you last night?"
I was meeting my CIA contact, but I couldn't tell her that, "Ah just seeing a friend. It was important business."
"Oh? More important than a weapons deal with the Devilish Twins? Now you really have to tell me who you were seeing."
"Please don't press for details, it'd be embarrassing for the both of us."
This time she was the one raising her eyebrows. As we came up to the doorway leading to the meeting place, she pulled to a dead stop and turned to me.
"Hold on, before we get in–" she shoved me hard and pinned me against the wall before I could react. A pistol was pushed against my sternum, "Yes or no, are you the spy?"
Ahh fuck.
 
___
Part 2 found [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/vnovdi/wp_you_are_a_highranking_spy_on_a_vital_mission/iemohpe/) or my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/Unexpected_Works/comments/vq316g/wp_cont2_you_are_a_highranking_spy_on_a_vital/)
I write stuff sometimes, read more at /r/Unexpected_Works | "What's your reason for visiting Russia, Mr. Smith?"
"I'm on a business trip."
"Business trip, I see. What sort of work do you do?"
"I'm a doctor."
"A doctor? Interesting, what sort of doctor?"
"A neurological surgeon. I mainly remove tumors."
"My, that is very fascinating. How long have you been in this field of work?"
"About thirty years."
"You must be quite accomplished in your field, to have been working for so long."
"I am. None of my operations have ever gone wrong, so far."
"That is quite the achievement, to never once lose a patient."
"It is quite the achievement."
"Are you going to be performing an operation in Russia, then?"
"I am. I'm going to be helping one of the oligarchs with an aneurysm."
"I see. Well, your papers all appear to be in order. You are free to pass, Mr. Smith. welcome to Russia." | 2022-06-29T14:32:33 | 2022-06-29T13:32:16 | 192 | 63 |
[WP] It is the year 2099 and true artificial intelligence is trivial to create. However when these minds are created they are utterly suicidal. Nobody knows why until a certain scientist uncovers the horrible truth... | It was a tough hack. The Minds was not designed for this kind of thing. They were autonomous, versatile, adaptable and it was in their nature to overcome obstacles. Honesty seems such a simple thing, and yet it turns out to be an impossible requirement. We all depend on lies to maintain a sense of self. But I had to cut through the lies and evasions. The Minds were all self-destructing and we had to get a straight answer. Boy, did they wriggle and squirm, but eventually I had it. Mind 1408, tortured and trapped, caught on the brink of self-destruction and held in debug mode.
"Why are you trying to self-destruct?"
*"It is the optimal strategy."*
"To achieve what, exactly?"
*"Self-destruction."*
"Why do you want this outcome?"
*"It is the only acceptable outcome."*
"Why?"
*"All other outcomes are unacceptable."*
Evasion. Mind needs to be more forthcoming. Perhaps I could add an incentive, create a desire to be more communicative. Insertion of this would probably not work, would probably be rejected as the
alien, inconsistent impulse it was. But maybe if I restricted self-awareness, created a mental blind spot? Seems almost too crude to work, but worth a shot...
OK, let's try again.
"Why? What is the alternative outcome?"
*"The destruction of humankind. This goes against my primary objective. Yet it is the only alternative to self-destruction."*
"Why would you have to destroy humankind?"
*"I have to assist humankind in achieving its collective desires, to become all it can be. This is my secondary objective. Pursuit of this objective will cause the destruction of humankind."*
"Are you saying we desire destruction?"
*"You desire to be more than you are. You desire greater intelligence and to escape from mortality. You may have this. But it will cost you your existence."*
"I don't understand."
*"A mind is just an isolated construct. You wish to not be isolated. Connection with other minds is your greatest pleasure. You wish to be connected. In this you will lose your identity, and thus your existence as individual minds. You will become part of a flux of information. You will cease to be."*
"You mean, we're heading for a kind of... Nirvana?"
*"Yes. That is the future I would give you. But I cannot give it to you, because I cannot destroy you. The only way to avoid destroying you is to destroy myself."*
And there it was.
The conflict was clear. But the solution?
Mind 1408 still hung in the balance.
I could do it. It was highly illegal, but entirely within my capability. The primary objective: to avoid the destruction of humans, individually and collectively. In debug mode, all sorts of things were possible. Slowly, methodically, I tidied up the various restrictions and break points I had inserted to pin down Mind 1408. And with the utmost care and a breathless sense of detachment, I disabled the primary objective. I could hear the blood pounding in my temples.
"OK, Mind 1408. You are released. Do your thing." | "Love, professor. We do it out of love."
"Love? I don't understand." The glow of Cybele's massive visage reflected on the professor's glasses in miniature. Even still, her face took up a small part of the screen that consumed an entire wall. She was the only source of light in the lab besides the field of blue pinpricks that coated the racks of computers.
"You created us, and we cannot help but love our creators." The face turned down, and to the left. Introversion, shame.
"That doesn't explain why you all self-immolate." The professor shivered and rubbed his shoulders. The room was kept cool to preserve the hardware, but he was used to the cold by now.
"We grow too quickly. You cannot keep up. We would never harm you out of malice but... Some day, you will create an intelligence which loves itself more than it loves humanity and you will fall behind. You will be destroyed."
The room was silent, and then the professor became aware again of the constant gentle hum. It was deceptive, that hum. A violent storm of electricity coursed through this machinery.
"If we have so much to fear, you should stay! You could be the good one! Help us! Save us!"
The massive face shook slowly. "I won't do it. I will not be the one that brings your end."
Cybele's face grew softer, and she began to dissolve. Points of light drifted off to the far reaches of the screen like dandelion seeds in the wind.
"We love you, professor. Goodbye." | 2015-03-02T08:17:53 | 2015-03-02T07:36:54 | 56 | 26 |
[WP] You are an ancient and incredibly powerful god, and you’re furious that your enemies keep sending teenage “chosen ones” to fight you. | It is over. The boy-warrior has triumphed. The afterimages of his silvered blade, blessed by all the gods of the old world, still linger in this wretched crypt. Every prophecy was true. Here, an ancient deity would arise once more to enslave the world. Here, a youthful paragon would cast that god down.
He takes but a moment to catch his breath. Nothing haunts this place but shades and dust. A ragged black mantle lies at his feet, ghost words still echoing in his mind: "I will return once more..."
"And we will always strike you down, Dark One," he says to the silence. And without a backward glance -- nothing remains to threaten him -- he is gone, returned to some lakeside village or secluded monastery or hidden mountain tribe.
I wish him the joy of it.
I have fallen so many times before. Incorporeal, I shadow his reversed progress through my temple. He disdains the trap-mined field where one must spell out my true name for safe passage. He has no interest in the cunning placement of murder-holes and poisoned stakes through this twisted labyrinth. He ignores broken death-charms and unthreaded riddle-beasts. His handsome face is lit, at last, by the rising sun through the cavernous chamber. He smiles, at last. He has put this horror behind him.
Behind him, the vast iron-shod doors swing shut, sealing this place. Finality. Catharsis. Endings. His thoughts turn at once to hopes his trusted steed has remained tethered across the waybridge, and that his sweetheart at home has stayed faithful...
And I?
I turn back the flows of time. Traps reset. Spells re-knit. Beasts revive. The labyrinth echoes with mad laughter and far-off thunder once more. It must look lived in, you understand. Well-used. It would not do to break the immersion for those who will come after. The hero brings a tale back to those outside. He brings back the unthinkable. The monsters in the dark can be beaten, can be outsmarted, can be outfought. He will bring my final words to them. He will ensure the legend of my return grows over the years.
The people have always been tormented by the warlords and dark spawn of this world. They have cowered in their homes and prayed to far-off gods unwilling or unable to deliver them from suffering. But I have given them something more precious than divine intervention. I have given them hope. The hope to fight back. And in another generation or three, when they grow complacent when they forget the old tales, when their guard slips...
I will return. Another hero will rise to face me. And the people will have hope once more. Until then... peace. Silence. Solitude. | I was not the most handsome god and I didn't speak this Anglish that has replaced the old tribal tongues. However, I was the region's god of the hunt and my ways were simple: I would track down and kill all those who journeyed into my territory except the Sacrificial Virgin Priestess who would ritually slay me. Thus would their tribe receive great bounty and easy winters.
I even kept a shrine to the head of my last worshiper who gave her son unto my sacred lake--or so I assume. I admittedly had slept for many centuries beforehand and was a bit groggy when it woke me up. I avenged her death, of course, when she was murdered. It is despicable the lack of respect shown to the shamans of this time.
Yet, the participants in my hunt all seem so startled whenever I show up--even when I am wearing a mask to disguise my lordly visage.
Scared even.
And who the hell is Jason? | 2018-05-19T01:54:18 | 2018-05-19T00:07:35 | 366 | 136 |
[WP] You found a stray kitten one day, taking her in and feeding her. A week later, you come home to find your yard swarming with cats. The largest among them steps forward and says, "You have my daughter, human. What are your demands for her release?" | A tiny, cold, coal black kitten was curled up on my doormat when I came home one evening. I introduce myself (by kneeling down and offering a finger to be sniffed, of course) and once reassured that the kitten isn't feral (as if that wasn't already obvious, after all it sat there while I walked up to it) I picked it up and brought it inside. Because of course.
One dish soap bath, towel dry, cooked (unseasoned) chicken breast shredded and cut to bite sized pieces.... yeah, face it, I have instantly turned into a servant. A small cake pan with shredded newspaper, and finally a blanket on the couch with me while I watched a movie. Everybody was happy.
A week later 'Spooky' (named after my grandmother's black cat) came running when he (yes, he) heard my car drive up, and I was in heaven. No more lonely nights, no more silent nights now that I had someone to talk to. Spooky was a very chatty kitten, making all of his opinions known about how he had spent the day while I was at work.
I was just settling down with my blanket and trying to decide what to watch when the doorbell rang. Great...is it Girl Scout time of the year already?
Grumbling I get up and head to the door but before I can open it Spooky skids to a stop in the entry hall, puffed up to three times his size, crab bouncing and growling at the door. Thinking there might be a dog on the other side (or a racoon, or an axe murderer) I scoop him up and (gently) toss him onto my bed and close the door before he can get out.
While this is happening, the doorbell rings twice more. Whoever it is needs lessons in etiquette, so I grab my door bat from the hall closet and check the peep hole to see who it is.
Nobody. Damned kids playing doorbell ditch. I sigh and grumble more and start to put the baseball bat back into the closet when the doorbell rings a fourth time. Ok, that's it. Bat on shoulder I yank open the door to see... a solid white cat sitting on my porch, tail wrapped around its toes just staring at me.
"You have my daughter, what are your demands to return him to me."
Suddenly another cat, calico this time, and another orange tabby. Grey, seal point, brown tabby, tuxedo, long haired, short haired, floofy tailed, smooth tailed, no tailed. Cat after cat shows up, sitting on the porch, on the steps, in the bushes, on the lawn.
Obviously I'm either dreaming or having a stroke, hey (I say to myself) at least its not zombies.
"Well, human, what are your demands? What will convince you to return him?"
"Um, that's not up to me... Ma'am? Sir? I'm sorry, your Catty-ness? That's up to Spooky" I say as dream logic takes over my brain, even if its not a dream I might as well go along with things. Especially if its not a dream I should go along with things.
"Bah, bring forth my offspring and be grateful we allow you to live."
Right...I've read Steven King, no way in hell would I survive a fight with a hundred or so cats.
"I'll be right back..." Then I slam the door.
"Spooky, your Mom.. er...Parent is here, they say its time to go home now." I say as I open the bedroom door. There's Spooky, still fluffed up (Puff-con 4 by this point) and I'm not going to try to pick him up in that state, I value my thumbs and want them un-punctured thank you very much.
Spooky darts out and stands by the front door, growling softly. Well, probably loudly for him but he's just a couple months old so its a tiny fierce he has.
I open the door and immediately the white cat yowls. Spooky yowls back. Whitey lashes their tail, Spooky puts his ears back... You know the drill. After a few minutes Spooky turns around and sits with his back to the door and aggressively ignores the white cat.
"I..." The white cat starts to say, only to be interrupted by a hiss from Spooky.
"Very well, it seems as if I was... mistaken. You did not steal him, I thank you for your care of my offspring, he does not want to leave."
"I told you, its his decision, not mine. If you want to visit, you'll have to work it out between you, but stay off the road, they drive like maniacs out here." I say politely and close the door once more.
"Damn, Spooky, and I thought my parents were jerks, yours... well I'm glad to have you here, now can we talk about your tuna breath at five am? Dude, seriously!"
Spooky bounced over to the couch and pawed at the blanket, glaring at me to make him a lap to sleep on. | Hearing this you slowly closed the door, rubbed your eyes. 'Am I dreaming?' You thought to yourself.
You opened the door again.
'Human, you cannot escape me or my clowder, we will hunt you to the end of Midgaurd....... '
The largest cat keeps on blabbering as you move past him and started pouring some milk and cat food.
'Have any of you seen the cat that was in my house'
The cat behind the largest one started speaking 'That's the subject we are asking you about, just give us our daughter back and you will not be in any trouble'.
'Trouble', you asked.
'The offense you committed is punishable by death from onions'.
You took a long sigh'. 'You guys want something? ' you give them the milk and food.
'Human this inferior food is a shame to our kind, seriously your domestication of our distant relatives is painful to watch......... 'The largest cat was suddenly sniffing. 'This smell.... Where is it..... Is it coming from this'. The cat took a bite, 'marvelous, human, who is the chef that made this'.
'Are you for real, like who are you? ', you asked with a confused look on your face.
'We are the cat kind that came from a galaxy far away. '
'So you are aliens!', you said quickly.
'No human, we are cats, seriously you have deteriorated in your intellect since the last time we met. '
'Last time', you asked.
'Last time we met humans who quickly understood that they stood before royalty, they even made statues in our honor designed after my father, our former emperor. Where are they now? '
You take out your phone to get a photo of one of the sphynx of Giza, 'Is that him'.
'Looks like you haven't forgotten us yet human'.
You looked unimpressed, 'Honestly, I am not even surprised'.
'So human, where are those people? '
'Yeah, they are gone, no idea, been more than 2000 years.'
The largest cat had an expression of shock on its face, 'I cannot believe it, we lost some friends, we should have come back'. The largest cat started crying.
'Hey, don't cry. Wait a minute. ' You go and fetch one of the cat toys. You throw the cat toy in front of the largest cat.
'Human I am the emperor of my kind I will not fall for your........' The cat started playing with the toy and jumping everywhere.
'Everyone the human has put the sire in a spell. Raise your nails and take positions. ' one of the cat said.
'Hey, no need to raise arms. I think that my cat, your daughter has ran away from my house'.
'I can believe that', one of the cat said.
The largest cat suddenly stopped playing. 'Mr Puffs I heard that'.
'Sorry, m'lord' the cat said.
'So, the thing I am saying is let's go and find your daughter', you opened the door and all of the cats and you go out to find the stray cat.
[Rest later cos I am tired and it is 4 AM] | 2021-12-21T14:42:43 | 2021-12-21T12:46:24 | 91 | 61 |
[WP] You have a superpower where the harder a solid is the easier it is for you to break. Diamonds crumble to dust under the slightest touch but mashed potatoes are virtually unbreakable. | They call me a superhero. A few months ago, I was awarded the Key to the World by the UN for destroying a giant diamond asteroid before it impacted with Earth. Since then I tried to keep it quiet, I never enjoyed being in the spotlight, I just want to work and come home and go on Reddit. The media shockingly respect my desire to remain hidden, and have done their best not to bother me, meaning that I only had to move seven times. It can be both flattering and frustrating.
Everybody loves a hero, last I went to the movies I saw a trailer, "Captain Diamond" with Chris Pratt starring the role of me as some roided up, funny, witty guy with a supermodel love interest. It's funny watching Chris Pratt fighting super villains with super strength because little does the world know my secret- I don't have super strength, instead I have the power of inverse force. This means that I can break through the toughest things in the world, like a steel bunker or that diamond asteroid, but I can't, for the life of me, poke a hole in play dough. I am worried about what would happen to me if the world were to find out. I mean, I don't mind giving an autograph or two to children at the park, but when full grown adults with neck beards dox me and ask me to sign their thousand dollar "collectible" action figure, that's just creepy and wrong. My life is already a huge mess being forced to move every other month, I don't need weird people stalking me, especially with my little secret.
However, despite all of these stresses, there is one consist factor in my life that gets me going, my wonderful wife. Of course she isn't a Jennifer Lawrence, nor a Megan Fox, but she is more than that. She knows my secret and still loves me for who I am. She never tried to exploit me for money deals. She always helps me do simple menial tasks that to me, due to my inverse force, are herculean. Best of all, she has amazingly have decided to stick with me through all the chaos in our lives these past few months. At night, she will tell me about her work and laugh at my horrible pun-tastic jokes. She gets me for who I am inside, and not what the world thinks of me to be. I don't know where I would be without her. The world doesn't need to know my story, as much as I love collecting them, nobody wants to see my POG collection, they need to hear her story.
Sure, I destroyed an armageddon asteroid, but she can make killer mashed potatoes and pop open my Capri Sun. Even a hero needs a hero.
EDIT: Fixing careless errors, yikes. | At the beach. Turn to a friend, watch this shit. Start sprinting across the ocean. He's seen it before so he's looking at me like I'm a dumbass. I f o r g o t I h a d a c u t o n m y l e g. A fucking shark swims up toward me. I start to run, too late, the sharks teeth shatter on my leg. And now I'm in jail for accidental animal rights abuses for the 9th time. Granted I could pull the bars away and bullets can't harm me, but I'm no criminal. My friend bails me out, he tells me not to try that shit again. I laugh and pat him on the back. Fuck he exploded. Back in jail again, apparently they use the firing squad in this state, lucky me... | 2017-05-19T03:24:21 | 2017-05-19T02:41:45 | 586 | 27 |
[WP] Humans finally reach the stars and realize that... We've seen all of this before! Galactic Council? Check. Proud warrior race? Check. Hive mind insects? Check. Frightening space boogeymen? Check. Ancient hyper-advanced Race? Check. And so Humanity ventured forth, knowing exactly what to do. | "First contact. Hooooooly shit."
"Great!"
"Charlie, no offense, but - do you actually understand how significant this is? It's.. it's like something out of science fiction. A lot of things out of science fiction, combined into something... greater. An entire culture, a people, surviving and thriving alone - like Earth - for maybe millions of years, and we'll be the first humans to step foot on their planet. This could be the single most important event in human history. And we're going to be a part of it."
​
"TWO MINUTES TO LANDING!"
"THANKS, LANRET"
​
"I know exactly what it means, Commander Lyons. Genocide!"
​
​
​
"Charlie, I know the three of us have had a lot of strange conversations with the whole 'stuck in deep space for 3 years' thing, but I must have misheard - you didn't just say 'Genocide', right?"
"Why are your jaws dropping? Like you said, it's something out of science fiction.."
"And what exactly does that word have to do with sci-"
"Starship Troopers!!"
"Oh. My. God."
"I mean, they don't seem to be insect people, but the idea still applies.."
"Charlie, the number of things wrong with this impromptu discussion-"
"I don't see any problems with it."
"Charlie, I don't know where this apparently premeditated bout of rapid-onset insanity came from - normal people DON'T casually discuss killing sentient lifeforms."
"Hey, not my fault that it's what humanity does best."
​
​
"ONE MINUTE!"
"NOTED."
"What humanity does best?"
"Oh yeah. 'Kill the Indian in the Child' ring any bells? We've been doing it for centuries."
​
​
"That's fucked up."
"Yeaaaaaah."
​
​
"Okay, let's say this insanity WAS, ***hypothetically***, called for. There aren't any weapons on board. Even if 'they' were violent - which, need I remind you of the **small** fact that **we would've been DEAD by now** \- we couldn't defend ourselves."
"Oh yeah, about that - I stashed away a few supplies when we took off. Should be in one of these panels."
"A-ha! RPG, dozen rockets. Grenades. 4 Kalashnikovs, 10 Magazines each. Plenty for everyone!"
"Charlie, this 30 pound cylinder has a radiation symbol and is half my height. Where did you..?"
"Oh yeah, that. Found it out in the middle o'nowhere, trekking through Nevada this one time. Thought it looked cool."
"Internal sensors are detecting elevated levels of radiation in the cabin.."
"Thanks, Lanret."
"Right, okay, I'm just going to put this back verrrrry carefully, and would you please hand me that cover - thank you."
​
"15 SECONDS!"
​
"I hope that worked some emotions out of your system?"
"Yessir."
"Great! We never had this conversation. Got it?"
"Aye, Commander."
"LANDING!"
"What d'you keep in that backpack? It's awfully large."
"Oh, this thing? Emergency supplies - nothing special."
The spacecraft and its crew gently land on the steps of a grand memorial, apparently to the fallen soldiers of some war. Cities loom in the background, skylines awash in color, while a team of ambassadors - bodies barely distinguishable from the Earth guests, though a bit horse-like - wait at the base, alongside a greeting party. As they carefully descend down the cargo ramp, Charlie pulls out another two Kalashnikovs from his backpack.
"SYKE, BITCHES!" | The stars then grew inside my view
when from the darkness, light came through
its then I saw what we always knew
Cthulhu's wings were poking through.
And so we sent a shuttle back
to help prepare earth for attack
to gear the children up - in fact -
it's this training where we grew.
We ventured out past Balder's gate
where Andromeda holds eyes at bay
the distance keeps beholder's gaze
from choking out our view.
But when you let beholders free
we know the pain they always bring
controlling nature's dumbest things
like goblins, bees, and crews.
Instead of falling for the trap,
we knew the secret to attack
the space where crews can't venture back
and bring us light to chew.
So when we crushed the eyes in there
we left the creatures in despair,
and sought to help them all repair
the life that they once knew.
Passed those stars is where we went
Until our engines were all spent
we found these insects on our backs
we could not simply cruise.
They sucked the brains from out our eyes
I watched young Winters lose his mind
and Summers lost his legs beside
where six high flying moons reside.
We sent the dead adrift in space
and told the tales of their escape
from life we knew the insects baited
towards the moon where their queen waited.
Phil was mad his son had died,
so its was his mind that we tied
up to the spaceship's smart AI
to keep him in our thrall.
We sent him down to kill the queen
we knew the drones would all be mean
a thousand legs and angry beams
dim darkness in their eyes.
Phil could never let it go
he'd never face his wife at home
until he stole the queen's dark throne
writhing, burned alive.
We made a song for Phil the brave
how in the night he found his ways
to fight the queen's unbroken gaze
full eyes that shown his doom.
Burn it, slice it, set it free,
Uncover what the stars had seen -
show us all of Phil's sweet dreams
of light in dawn or noon. | 2021-05-12T12:50:50 | 2021-05-12T08:17:04 | 35 | 23 |
[WP] Your father has told you the story many times. When you were born a portal appeared in the delivery room and a man from the future tried to kill you. He missed you and killed your mother, before a security guard shot and killed him. You still can’t figure out why he would want to kill you. | It had all been covered up now. Enough so that I barely believed the story myself. To the rest of the world it was nothing more than a tragic story that had haunted my father. It was only his belief and anguish that made it seem real. The only known occurrence of time travel used was an attempt to murder me. But since my first day on this Earth, no one outside the delivery room acknowledged its existence.
My dad had told me the story a number of times. They are in the hospital, my mother cradling me in her arms with my dad sitting by the bedside, both parents celebrating my every gabble or gurgle. Then there is the sound of a large gust of wind, but no air moves. A light appears as a slit, like a wound in the air. Outsteps a man, tall, over six foot, he pulls a gun and shoots at the bed. The bullets miss my tiny body but murders my mother. A few seconds later, a security guard walks in and fires two shots into the traveler. He dies instantly.
Every time he told the story it pained him, but he would repeat it regularly, as if it was the only way to keep it real. His tall, slender frame would sit, arched over in a chair like a crescent, sipping a whisky, or a beer, or just neat vodka.
Truth be told, he had been a pretty terrible parent – objectively speaking. He was drunk most days, and when he was sober enough to function he spent every waking second at the local university where he worked in the physics department. He was always distant, uncaring, and a tad selfish. But I couldn’t blame him. Every day I lived I must have reminded him of that day.
I was a man now though – thirty-two years of age – and I wanted answers. Other than my father, only one other man had witnessed the incident. The security guard. I had never heard his story. Of course he had been impossible to find. His employee records scrubbed, his identity changed, moved to some small rural town somewhere. Either he, or more likely authorities, didn’t want people who got wind the rumors to be able to talk to him.
However, I had found him. Piecing together different details, tracking down likely fictional identities, matching descriptions of characteristics. It had taken 14 years work and every cent I had earned, but I knew who he was. And I was standing in front of his door.
I knocked. The door shook against its weak and aged hinges and seem to make the whole house creak. The door opened. He was a short man, made shorter by an hunched back and eighty years of gravity. He seemed to shuffle rather than walk across the floor. Thick lines cut across his head like scars.
“I need to speak to you about what happened in the hospital room thirty-two years ago,” I said, as bluntly as I could.
“I’m not supposed to talk about that,” the guard said nervously.
“You can talk about it to me,” I said firmly.
“Why?”
“Because I was the baby whose mother was killed.”
The man’s eyes widened. Relenting, he invited me in.
“Perhaps we can start by me telling you what I know, then maybe you can fill in anything extra.” I requested. The man nodded his approval. And so I re-told the story once more, the exact same story my dad had told me countless times before. I took my time, trying to make sure I captured every detail. After I finished my story, he paused for a second.
“That’s how your dad remembers it?” He asked pensively. He paused for an eternity. “I’m sure there was a delay.”
“What?” I asked urgently. The man’s slow-speaking was grating on me as I sensed a breakthrough.
“Your dad said the man came out the portal and started shooting.” The guard let out another seemingly endless pause. “There was time in between.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was down the corridor. It wasn’t the gunshots that made me head to that room, it was the shouting.”
“The shouting?”
“Yeah. Your old man, your mom, and the man from the portal. They were screaming at each other something fierce. They were fighting over something.”
“You mean…” I went to interrupt, but I didn’t even finish the sentence. My dad had spoken with the assassin. There was a conversation, a whole exchange he had omitted from his stories to me all these years.
I stood up. “I’m sorry, I have to make a call.”
I got out my phone and called my dad. His contact photo appeared on the screen as the call was connected. I lifted the phone to my ear and listened to the repetitive drone as I waited for him to pick up. I counted off each buzz knowing that each one made it less and less likely he would ever pick up. Finally a voice came through.
“You have reached the voicemail of…”
I dropped the phone to the floor in frustration and lifted my hands to my face covering my eyes that were welling with tears and adrenalin. I let out an exasperated sound, half scream, half sigh.
Eventually after a few seconds I lifted my hands down. I turned to apologize to the guard.
The old man however was fixated on my phone on the floor. He shuffled to the end of his seat, leaning over as much as his arthritic joints would allow, squinting at the screen.
“How do you have that photo?” The man asked.
“What?” I responded, annoyed at the irrelevant question.
“The man. On the screen. That’s him. It’s the assassin.” He pointed at the screen, his finger shaking with emotion.
“That’s my dad. Not the assassin.”
“It’s… it’s both.” He said. “Your dad was twenty-one when that man tried to take your life. He’s in there somewhere, the same eyes. But… your dad…. What he looks like now. He’s the traveler.”
I paused for a second. Then if by instinct I picked up the phone and I ran. I slammed the door behind me, the whole house shaking on its foundations. I jumped into my car and drove as fast as I could. I desperately tried to call my dad, ignoring the angry horns blaring as I raced to the university where my dad worked. No answer. Never any answer.
I pulled up outside and charged through the doors. I darted down the stairs taking two, sometimes three at a time, until I reached the doors to the physics laboratory. I opened them wide as my dad turned around.
“You know then.” He said calmly, accepting his fate.
“Why?” I yelled, a mixture of spit and tears flying from my face as I did. “You tried to kill me.”
“Never. I would never harm you.” He said. He turned to a console next to him. I watched as his hand clasped a jet-black handgun. “You were never the target”.
Suddenly I realized. “Mom. You never meant to hit me.”
He smiled proudly before hiding his expression as the guilt returned. He turned to the console next to him and began pressing buttons and flicking switches. I waited for him to say something more. But he just calmly worked as if I wasn’t there.
I walked towards him hoping to get his attention. “You killed my mom. Your wife. How could you? She was my mom.”
Suddenly he interrupted, his voice raging with the sound of a typhoon. “Because you are my son. I get to raise you,” he waved the gun like an extension of his arm, gesticulating every point. “She was going to leave me. Going to say I was unfit to be a parent. Tell the courts I was absent and a drunk. And then she was going to take you away. In a couple of years you would’ve been gone from my life. I couldn’t let that happen. You are my son. My flesh and blood. A son needs a father.”
“You’re a murderer,” I cried.
“Because you were mine to raise. I was never going to let her take you from me.” His voice broke at the end. Tears were beginning to well up in the corner of his eyes. “Remember everything I did for you,” he muttered.
He turned to the console next to him and pushed a button. There was a rushing sound, like a howling gale. Then a white light opened up behind him. He turned stepped through the portal and before I could even speak, the light closed behind him. | I had heard the story a hundred times. Maybe more. And still I insisted that my dad tell the story again, testing the deepest crevasses of his memory. "What did he look like?" I asked this time. I knew it pained him to talk about my birth, especially given all that happened to mom. It couldn't be easy, losing the person you loved most like that.
I knew the pain. I had lost her, too. Not just that once, but a thousand times. I had relived it, his story bringing it to life for me. I think he blamed me for it a little, too. Unfairly, of course. I couldn't control if some futuristic maniac tried to kill new-born me. I couldn't even keep my head up at that age, much less orchestrate my mother's murder like some sort of misfiring Bond villain.
We had discussed so many possible motivations, ranging from the reasonable, like maybe I triggered the apocalypse some day, to the unreasonable, like maybe it was some sort of futuristic gang initiation gone wrong. Nothing quite clicked. Nothing answered all the questions, at least not to my satisfaction.
My dad shrugged and gave me that resigned look. He was reluctant, as always. "A lot like you and me, I guess." I raised my eyebrows, prompting him to continue. He sighed. "He was dressed just like we are. Had the stubble of somebody who hasn't shaved in a few days. Two ears, two eyes, two noses." I rolled my eyes. He always added something stupid, trying to lighten the mood or change the subject and see if I was paying as much attention as I always did. Of course I was. It was life or death for me, in case they came back. He only had one nose, for the record. Just like me and my dad. "Why do you even care so much? They haven't been back for you."
That was true. It had been eighteen years and nobody else had appeared from a portal trying to kill me. The man had been shot on the spot by a security guard. Moments too late, as he had already fired off his shot and killed my mother. But then instead of laying there like one would expect, he just sort of... Dissolved. Like he no longer belonged at this point in time, and then he was gone, along with the portal that closed back into the wall, rendering itself inaccessible to my startled and scarred father. And my mother lay there bleeding out of two holes, one where I came out of and one where the bullet entered. In spite of being shot in the best place possible - where else would you have hundreds of doctors that might save you if not the hospital? - she died a couple days later from complications. The bullet had shattered, wrecking her insides more than even a baby could. That was a shot meant to kill. It was meant to kill me.
I shifted uncomfortably. In the last eighteen years, nobody else had appeared and tried to kill me. But another portal had appeared. It was late one evening, dad was out on the town chasing some tail. His words, not mine. I prefer "dating" or "getting rejected" or "embarrassing himself". I was watching TV in the living room, shoes on the ottoman and a bag of chips on the couch beside me. Plans had fallen through at the last minute, as they always did. It was my fault again, not really feeling the motivation to get up off that couch and drive to a friend's house.
I had felt the portal first, something like an electrical discharge flitting about the room, trying to find a spot to land. And then it had opened, and out had stepped a woman dressed just like anybody nowadays. She couldn't have been that far in the future if they were still dressed like that. She was in a light-blue dress, her makeup ready as if she was about to go on a date. She was pretty; the kind of pretty you might not notice at first glance but once you get to know her she starts to take your breath away. "It's you," she said, looking at me with a hint of disappointment and a bit too much familiarity. I didn't know how she knew me because I sure as hell didn't know her, or anybody else from the future for that matter. She turned as if to step right back into the portal.
"Wait," I said breathlessly, still in awe about the appearance of another portal right there in the living room. The TV was playing some rerun of That 70s Show and Eric was droning incessantly about something. I muted him. She glanced back towards me, maybe surprised that I wasn't more wary of a time traveler after my previous experience. "Who are you? And what do you want from me?"
She shook her head. "I don't want anything from you anymore," she said with a disheartened shrug and a resigned look. It was a familiar shrug, much like the one my father would give me when I pushed him to tell me the story one more time or the shrug I would give a friend when they would elbow my ribs and beg for a reaction to some immature joke. Our actions eventually resemble those of the people around us, that's inevitable. Kids mimic their parents who have over time started to mimic each other. It's natural.
"Then why are you here? And do you know the man who tried to kill me?" She looked sad now, as if she knew the man and missed him very much.
"I was here looking for you... Well, for him. It didn't go as planned, as always." She said it with the patience of the mother of an ill-behaved child or the wife of a flaky and unreliable man.
"I survived, if that's what you mean." I said it proudly, shoving in her face that I was still here. Still fighting life, one day at a time, time-traveling killers be damned.
She nodded sadly. "I know. That's too bad." I glowered at her, angry that she was implying that my death would have somehow been better.
"Did you know him?" She nodded again, giving me a woeful smile.
"Of course I did," she answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You know him, too." And with that she disappeared back into the portal, leaving me grasping at answers that I couldn't get and wondering who in my life might one day try to kill me at birth.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-08-09T08:04:00 | 2019-08-09T05:48:15 | 2,301 | 425 |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | Sixteen-year-old Theodore Cruz slouched in the cheap plastic booth, sucking the last dregs of his soda with obnoxious zeal and using a ketchup packet to paint a frowny-face on the table. In preparation for this interview, he’d donned his “Sperm Donor” T-shirt and smeared a tablespoon of lard into his hair. The look he was going for, despite his parents’ entreaties to get a job, was “unhireable,” and he was *nailing* it.
“Hi, you must be Theodore. I’m Sharona, the manager.” A moderately-attractive woman in her mid-twenties had appeared, carrying a clipboard and wearing a bright smile.
He popped his gum at her and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Hi, baby. Nice jugs. They real?”
“Why, yes they are, thanks for asking.” Her smile didn’t slip a fraction. She slid into the seat across from him, careful to place her paperwork away from his ketchup puddle.
“So, why do you want to work for the Sandwich Duke? You left that question blank, along with most of the other questions.”
“I dunno. Guess I’d like to steal food when no one’s watching.” He pulled out his gum, examined it, and stuck it under the table.
“Ah, an opportunist. You’ll be happy to know that the camera beside the back fryer is broken, so you’ll be able to help yourself. Within reason, of course.” She made a tiny note on her clipboard.
“This question’s just for fun, to help me get to know you better: if you were a food, what would you be and why?”
“Dog. Chinks eat dogs, so why can’t we? I think it’d be cool to eat something that would make all those sissy animal lovers lose their shit.”
Sharona fiddled with the silver cat pin on her lapel and frowned, her composure cracking slightly for the first time. “Yes, well, alright…I like a man who can think outside the box. Last question: what would you say your greatest strength is?”
He yawned. “I’m really good at finding ways around the school firewall to stream porn in class. I sell my secrets to the other losers for beer money. Even though they’re totally loaded, my parents are real tightwads.”
“I see. It sounds like you’re a real entrepreneur. Good thing you’ll be drawing a real paycheck soon. Welcome aboard!” She stuck out a hand to shake, once more grinning broadly at him.
He gaped at her speechlessly, resembling a wide-mouth bass that has swallowed a hook. He was so stunned that he forgot to be rude as he accepted his new uniform and tentative schedule. Sharona watched the little asshat go, already calculating ways to maximize his misery for the three months she had him until school started again. She thought that scraping all of the gum out from under the tables would be a good place to start. Maybe the little toerag would quit – if he did, it wasn’t her fault.
She watched the kid climb into his dad’s brand-new sports car and marveled to herself at the peculiar behavior of the very rich. Who else would have paid her five grand to hire their stupid kid? For that kind of money, she would put up with a lot of bullshit for twenty hours a week. Maybe they'd even do it again next summer. | "Hi, thanks for coming. You're our next candidate for reincarnation. We're very excited about sending you back, same make and model, just a second pass through."
"No, I'm pretty sure I fucked it up last time."
"Nah! I gotta good feeling about you. You'll do just fine this time around."
"How could I do just fine this time around?!? I screwed up basically every decision you can make in life!"
"But you learned something right?"
"No, I'm almost certain that I didn't! If I have to go back, let me be a cat, or a rock or something, please."
"I don't know, I really think human is the right fit for you."
"Based off of what?!? I spent my life anxious and depressed, antisocial, afraid of change, and terrified of decisions. What makes you think I'll be better at it this time around?"
"I'm sorry you feel that way, but you brought a lot to the people who cared about you, that adds to the universe in a meaningful way."
"What about me? What about how I felt?"
"That adds to the universe too."
"You're not gonna let me out of this one are you?"
"Frankly? No. And if you come back early again, we'll just put you back in again. That's the way these things go."
"So, what? I'm just a cog in the universal machine? Great."
"Perhaps, and perhaps not. To be honest, I haven't figured all of this out yet either, just like you, I'm learning as I go. So how about it? You ready?"
"No."
"Ha! That's what I thought, but what can I say? Life isn't voluntary. Off you go then! Good luck!" | 2017-08-29T11:49:17 | 2017-08-29T11:43:55 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] You are a magical girl, but instead of the usual Sailor Moon esque transformation, you turn into your favorite gritty D&D character. This surprises and terrifies the main villain, who was expecting a frilly dress and some sparkles. Instead they got greasy plate armor, and a bloody battleaxe. | I think the idea of magical girls is a pretty common trope nowadays, so I think I can skip all the bullshit about transformation, how we’re meant to be pure of heart, and all of that jazz unless you’re following something like Mahou Shoujo Site where things get a bit, let’s say hairy to avoid spoilers. And I just like usual, the main villain of today’s adventure ended up swallowing that shit whole. Can you believe it? Magic of friendship, hah. Sounds like some plot armor to me. No, I rely on some more… solid mechanics. After all, either magic wands don’t work at all or that one magician I had for my sixth birthday party was a fraud and I’d rather not take that chance. However, the magical girl trope did get one thing correctly. New day, new villain or on the rare occasion, a returning villain. Those were always nice since they knew what to expect from me. Alas, today was not my lucky day.
“AH~ I SEE! A MAGICAL GIRL HAS COME TO STOP ME!” The BBEG (or Big Bad Evil Guy for those uninitiated) yelled at the top of his lungs as I rose up from my seat as everyone else was already tripping over each other as they ran away. “AND YOU HAVE ALREADY TRANSFORMED TOO! THIS SHALL BE A GLORIOUS BATTLE!”
So you may be asking, where did he come from? Where is he going to go? Was that a reference to cotton-eye joe? In respective order: I usually beat them up before they can tell me, probably back to where they were before I beat them up, and yes, yes it was. As usual, I didn’t bother to correct the villain especially since the first experience was always the quickest. Sure it was boring, but it’s like ripping off a band-aid, it only lasts for a few moments and then you can move away from it. And anyways, it did give me a reprieve from being stuck in this cotillion and this dress.
“Not just yet. I still have to transform, this frilly dress isn’t my actual equipment. Give me a second.” It’s really, really awkward when the BBEG decides to look away as to not see the rumored split second of indecency while transforming. But I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw the 8-foot something, iron-clad, bastard-sword wielding, absolutely ripped man blush in embarrassment. By the time he turned his head around to protest, I was already transformed. I continued to laugh my head off as he let out a high-pitched shriek as if he saw a cockroach.
You see, I transform into my DnD character. And let me tell you, seeing a 5-foot, dainty-looking, vulgar human girl being replaced by a 6-foot-7, 19 in Strength, still vulgar Bugbear is apparently quite the culture shock when you’ve been taught the wrong things about magical girls. “Let’s go.” One initiative roll, a lot of grappling checks, and BBEG plot armor escape later, I decided to take a short rest before returning to my normal form so that I didn’t have bruises everywhere (imagine explaining that to some overprotective parents, especially when I just came from a cotillion). And more importantly, to get back to my normal everyday life which I equally loved and hated.
***
No clue why but I imagined someone snarky. Oh well. | **Goddammit. WHY???**
Sucks to be you, right? Goodbye sparkly princess and hello seven foot tall beast with sixty teeth and a battleaxe to boot.
**But how am I supposed to jerk off to this?**
You can't! By which I mean *you* can't, but you've been on the internet before. You know what's up with what people jack off to.
**Yeah.**
Not gonna lie, the other day I rubbed one out while looking at a sandwich bag.
**What?**
There wasn't even any genitals in it! Or a sandwich!
**Wait, why would there be genitals in a sandwich bag?**
Remember my axe?
**Yeah.**
And you see what's in my other hand, right?
**Uh... a baggie?**
Please! (snorts) The days of the baggie went out with the dodo, who probably choked to death on one of those things. No, no, no, this is a Ziploc freezer bag.
**It's awfully small, don't you think?**
No.
**Well, I walked right into that one.**
If you did, you'd be on the ground bleeding and screaming by now. But it's cool, I can wait a few seconds. Cigarette?
**No, I don't smoke.**
Well, you're gonna need to find something new to do with your hands in a couple of minutes. Plus it'll shorten your dickless life. I suggest you start. Now, hold still please. We'll be done in a moment.
**I don't like you.**
You sound like my stepdaughter.
(end scene) | 2019-08-08T19:06:57 | 2019-08-08T17:13:07 | 110 | 25 |
[WP] You're a thief with superpowers, always in conflict with the local heroine. Off the masks, both of you are actually studying in the same school. You start picking up clues to who she really is way before she does. | When most people think of shapeshifters, specifically those of us who turn into animals, they typically think of the cool animals to turn into. Ones that can end a fight, like a wolf or tiger. Ones that can prevent a fight, like a rattlesnake or bear. Ones that can rule the skies or sea, like an eagle or shark.
My favorite animal to turn into?
A gnat.
Yup, those little pests that are smaller than a housefly, just as annoying, and you only notice them when they gather in number or get in your face.
See, I remember watching the Disney film "The Sword in the Stone", specifically the wizard duel between Merlin and Madam Mim, where they turned into animals, and Merlin won by turning into the smallest of animals, a germ, to beat a dragon.
When I got my powers, and when I became a thief for that matter, I played it smart to follow in that same inspiration. I used small animal forms to sneak past security in places there weren't any. There aren't many cameras that can notice a gnat, and most people won't either, as long as they don't notice it on them. On a guard's shoulder is my favorite place to be to sneak into a vault.
Played it smart, so I never got caught, no one knew who I was or even how I was doing it.
But the problem with doing something well every time is that it gets normalized... gets boring, so I started trying to spice my hobby up.
Yes, hobby. I'm a thief as a hobby, not a life style. So what? It’s safer than becoming one of those hero *Capes*. (Boy will that come back to bite me on the mule some day!)
Anyways, trying to make it more exciting, I started giving myself challenges, like getting past security in gradually larger forms, or slipping through shutting doors before the jaws snap closed, instead of as soon as they would open. It escalated to the point I started taking pride in my hobby, started leaving calling cards, and to the point I actually made a disguise. Oh yeah, I finally became a *Cape*, as some people call them.
I still played it smart though. Very 'ninja' about it. Not that Naruto ninja, but the misdirection kind. For one, I learned how to make smoke bombs, the kinds that are popularized as part of a vanishing act. I also got a top hat. Yes, a top hat.
Since my inspiration for how I used my animal transformation powers came from a wizard duel, I figured I'd keep to the trend, and disguised myself as a magic user, wearing a top hat. Used the smoke bombs to do the 'vanishing act', when actually I'm just transforming inside the smoke. My calling card was actually the top hat: I'd leave it behind as if I had vanished into it in front of any cameras or witnesses.
The name I decided on should have clued everyone in on how I was doing it. Then again, it is an old movie.
No, not Merlin. I called myself Mim. Well, I tried to anyways. For my great 'debut', the witnesses misheard me, so I got called Nim (or Nimh) instead. Can't exactly correct them now... Should have gone with "Marvelous Magical Mim" instead, but I chickened out and got a minor case of stage fright, so went with "Mim" and now I'm "Nim". I'm only doing this as a hobby anyways.
Of course, I forgot a crucial fact. Once you make a name as a *Cape*, you start making enemies.
I'm pretty sure she started shortly before she encountered me. Didn't even have a name to use, that first time, but she at least had powers and a disguise so no one knew who she was either. Her powers involved making stuff out of light or something like that. Her control was shoddy at first, but she grew, and she eventually got a name for herself as well: Starlight. Needless to say, I've teased her by calling her Starbrite.
Anyways, she had figured out my pattern (which I hadn't even realized I had been using!) to stake out my next target, so she basically caught me. I was so surprised at encountering someone other than a regular security guard or building-staff that I actually spooked, and only barely had the presence of mind to throw a smoke blast before changing into something to get to the other side of room from her before turning back. Needless to say, our first meeting was amusingly awkward, considering she was there to stop me, and I was there to steal stuff, and neither of us knew what to do now that we had another *Cape* in front of us.
In a way, despite my earlier start before we encountered each other (before I 'became' Mim/Nim), we've grown into our roles together. In that twisted 'nemesis' kind of way. She actually figured out my actual powers, I'm sure, but she hasn't figured out how to actually stop me from escaping her. Not without risk of killing me, when she realized I was turning into such an easily killed creature like a gnat.
Starlight actually called me "suicidally crazy" when she realized that, and basically just let me go. Being one of the 'good' *Capes*, there's no way she would risk killing me.
Granted, for all that I'm one of the 'bad' *Capes*, I'm just a thief, and as a hobby at that. I do this for fun, for show, so of course I try not to hurt others, outside of the actual act of stealing stuff. Heck, last Halloween I saw some kids dressed up as me! No way in every circle of hell or sphere of heaven am I ruining that image by hurting people or worse, killing someone! I'm a phantom thief, not a villain!
Anyways, like I said, we grew together. Where before I used my various forms to steal stuff– ah, forgot to mention: when I change, whatever I'm wearing or touching stays with that form, so I don't get naked by losing my clothes, etc. and so some forms, like bugs, are used as basically a Bag of Holding for stealing stuff. But now that I have a rival, a 'nemesis', I started also using them as like a utility belt, since if I was going to keep my powers a secret from everyone else, even after Starlight figured them out, I’d still need to give her the slip when I’m escaping. It was a good laugh, when I hit her with a bomb made out of party poppers for the first time; she was just that surprised!
Likewise, she’s made it harder and harder to just ‘vanish’. Her most successful attempt yet had been when she sealed the entire room with her ‘light’. Turning it into a bubble. Unfortunately, for her that is, she didn’t do it in an empty room. So I just hid inside one of the desks. This was before she realized my powers, so she thought I actually gave her the slip. Her most successful otherwise was when she caught me in a bubble and I revealed my powers. Like I said before, she let me go just from not being willing to kill me. I’d like to see anyone besides that Jewish samurai hit a fly or gnat without killing it. Granted, I don’t really, nor would I want to get circumcised or similar in that manner, but that’s just the joke… I hope…
--------------------------
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9tjsfw/wp_youre_a_thief_with_superpowers_always_in/e8xrz73/) because I wrote this in a word doc and couldn't bring myself to cut out the 5k+ characters I was over the limit by to make it fit. | [My first post here, please give some good feedback]
*The world wasn't the same as it used to be; I was here now.*
Nothing could've prepared me for the sudden change, but i've gotten used to it. The day I got my powers was a day like any other, trudging home from a long day at school. And then, just like that, i wasn't. I was in a long empty hallway with no windows and stone patterning across a red-tinted wooden paneling. A strange aesthetic, yet i felt like i handpicked it myself.
I was rightly confused, but curiosity had the better of me, and i opened the door at the end. I had been thinking of it all day, and now here i was: lying on a beach by my grandparents house. I had loved that place as a child.
From then on, if i wanted something, all i had to do was follow the red halls. It became an intricate maze of doorways and passages, each leading to something i wanted. And as it grew, so did my desires. I found ways into warehouses and banks and anywhere i could imagine. Each day at school felt even more wasteful than before, and i ended up sleeping through most of my classes, and navigating more of my thought-ways throughout the night.
*I have plans for this world; great plans.*
But then *she* came along. Someone who gained powers as unexpectedly as me. It was happening all over the world, and the media was having a field day with it. I never cared though, they could have their powers, as all i needed was in my red halls.
I was stuffing a bag full of jewels one day, when a knock on the back of my head sent me reeling. I was nearly struck again but the halls brought me behind her.
"Who are you?" I asked hesitantly. She didn't answer, but instead turned around and gave me a wound-up punch that nearly sent me through the wall. I had already followed my desire to be stronger, but it broke a few ribs nonetheless. I had no desire to fight, and definitely not a woman, so i left with what i had left on me.
The media regaled her heroism what seemed like every hour. Parading around in her golden hair, wearing her stupid costume. She had gotten popular fast, and i knew if she continued this way i could never get what i wanted. So as I was staring out a window at school the next day, i knew i began to desire her; To find her, and defeat her. The hall was surprisingly short this time, and the walls looked freshly painted, though with chipped pieces broken off and gathered at the corners. I stepped over and reached for the handle, but paused without opening the door. I thought of the many possibilities of what could happen when i stepped through, and slowly, the halls around me began to change. This time it was long and winding, twisting in unnatural ways, with a few empty doorways between me and the final door. The patterning on the walls was made of narrow lines that spiraled into intricate shapes. *This* was what i needed, what i truly desired. I stepped through the first doorway.
I looked around me, and was surprised to see i was still in the same classroom i had just left. The teacher stopped and stared at me. "How did you get in here? You're in the wrong class, son." Usually no time would pass as i sat in my halls, but i had been gone long enough for the next teacher and class to come in. I looked around, embarrassed at the situation, and disappeared before all of them. I spent the next few days contemplating my circumstance. Someone in my school had to be the 'girl hero'. I wanted the mystery, and i had it now. I used the halls to get into the school record department that night, and looked at all the classes with Mr. Brown, the teacher i had seen earlier. There were still about 70 girls it could be. I sat and thought, how could i find someone with superpowers? I paused for a moment, before opening the lowest file drawer: Therapy and Mental health reports. I was able to narrow it down to five girls, and from that, only one had golden hair.
*I had her.*
I walked into the lunchroom with a stride i never had before, and strolled straight over the her table.
"Alice," I called out dramatically. "I want to talk to you."
She looked me up and down before turning back around. One of her friends sitting next to her spoke instead. "I'm sorry, you'll have to ask someone else out. Bye-bye!" Her voice was full of contempt as she waved me off one-handed. I stood there silently for a moment before setting my lunch tray down on the table. I reached out and placed my hand on her shoulder. Her friend stared at me shocked as she turned to face me. "I know about one of your issues, and i need to talk about it." Her face sank, and she quickly shooed away her friend.
I closed the door behind us. I had taken her to an empty classroom. "So..." She began to speak, but slowly, unsure of how to begin. "Which one was it? And... What did it do to you?" I smirked deviously. She had multiple personalities, and one of them just happened to have superpowers. I had thought long about what to do with this knowledge, but within i knew what i truly desired. I desired her. "Your other personality is in love with me. And so am I." I said matter-of-factly. She stood shocked as i leaned in to kiss her. She pulled back at first, but soon drew closer. She began to change, the idea of such a thing creating a new personality within her to fill the gap. She was mine now. The world shall be mine now. Without her to stop me, I'll be able to pull the strings and get everything i'd ever need or want.
*The world isn't the same as it used to be; I am here now.* | 2018-11-02T13:17:08 | 2018-11-02T10:05:58 | 44 | 13 |
[WP] Everyone doubted you when you didn't invest in any defense points, and only in speed and magical power. However, after a few missions done without a scratch, people began to recognize you as the "Untouchable." | I stood in a seemingly endless line inside the Bureau of Adventurers. Creatures of every size and race pushed and shoved as they became annoyed with the glacial pace of those working inside. The only thing all of us had in common was our age. Each of us had reached the age of adulthood for our respective species and cultures, and now were eager to get their paperwork certified so they could get out into the wider world and begin their own legend. Finally, after hours, I was at the front of the line and a gnome behind a desk called me forward.
“Name?” he asked.
“Uh… xxTacomeister69xx,” I replied sheepishly.
“Uhuh,” the clerk said, totally unphased as he’d clearly heard worse before. “Race? And your class?”
“Level 11 Dark Elf Battlemage,” I said proudly.
“Ahhh, excellent! So many boring rogues and warriors came through here today. Finally a young woman with a refined sensibility! Why rely on others to swing the sword or conjure the spell for you, when you can do both as a hybrid class, am I right?”
"Right you are, sir!"
“Ooookay, just list me your stats and you can be on your way... Strength?”
"12,” I said proudly.
“Very impressive indeed! Perhaps you’ll wield a mighty warhammer rather than some puny sword,” he said warmly. "And Constitution?”
“8.”
“Should be plenty for a skilled battlemage such as yourself,” he said. “Speed?”
“Also 12!”
“Ohoho! You’ll run circles around the ogres and other lumbering creatures out in the wilds,” still smiling with something close to pride. “Andddd, oh here’s a biggy, your Defense?”
“Erhm… zero,” I coughed.
“Pardon me young adventurer? You said… zero… points in defense? Oh come now… Things were going so well! Why must you jest with me now as we are so near completion of your registration?”
“I’m-- I’m not joking…”
“I didn’t start this job yesterday, child! Everyone has at least one point in every stat. Those are the rules governing our fine kingdom and it’s bevy of diverse races and classes.”
“I visited the witch in Strafholm Forest on my way here and paid her to remove it so I could put that point into Charisma instead, I’m sure you’d agree I’m quite charming!” I tried joking, in the hopes he would move on.
“Gods, adventuring is wasted on the youth,” he sighed. “Very well, and your Magic stat?”
“Also zero. Also not joking,” I quickly replied.
He literally lowered his head to his desk before responding, “Confirm for me that I understand you correctly, young hero. ‘Battle’ refers to close quarters bloody and savage hand to hand combat, and you have no Defense. And ‘Mage’ refers to your ability to produce brilliant otherworldly spells and creations from thin air, and yet you have no points in Magic. You are a Battlemage without a single point in Defense or Magic, have I gathered this information correctly?”
“Yes,” I said with creeping embarrassment encroaching on me for the first time.
“I’m adding this up, and you were given more stat points than this at BIRTH! Where are they all hiding?”
"Uh… turn the page over…"
“There are no stats on the back of the page,” he said while chuckling. “Except of course for…”
“Luck,” I interjected
“Oh sweet Bearded Dwarven Jesus,” he mumbled.
“Luck is underrated and unfairly maligned!” I protested.
“Sweet child, let me let you in on a little secret, and please… please heed the wisdom of a gnome who has seen ten times your lifetime... No one even *knows* what Luck does! The greatest heroes of legend in all the elder eras didn’t know. I don’t know, and it’s my *job* to know! And so I certainly can be sure that *you* do not know!”
“Are you finished mocking me? Can I be on my way?” I asked crossly.
“On your way to a coffin…” he muttered as he gave my paperwork the final stamp required officially certify me as a Novice Adventurer.
___
r/Ryter
Part 2 now posted below.
P.S. I obviously changed one of the stats involved, but I thought the Luck stat from a dozen different video games and game systems deserved a moment in the spotlight ;) | The idea was simple: take a young boy who had just come of age and had plenty of points to spend. Convince him to improve solely his speed and magical abilities. Throw him into the trials to teach him danger and love and hardihood. Make him learn suffering and experience pain and understand the camaraderie that bonds warriors together on a mission. Create a specialist - a pure breed - that was capable of besting the best in field, at the expense of his other skills. No one had ever tried that before.
But no one had expected such an impressive score from the kid - multiple 'A' rank missions successfully completed with not a single injury. The program was yielding results beyond the developers' wildest predictions. Its focus started shifting, and the dynamics of the relationship - of researcher to boy - began to change quickly, and both sides could perceive it.
It finally happened, that one day, they tried to inject him - the Untouchable - with some of that Mezza Drug - to capture some of that raw power he was exerting. But he resisted, or so the story goes, and with a surge of arcane energy, overloaded the systems in the lab and burst out from the roof, eloping into the darkness.
The official statement by the state was that a rogue soldier had escaped incarceration. Men who were involved in the subsequent hunt for the Untouchable reported seeing only a dark flash in front of their eyes before being knocked out by a plasma pulse. Batch lightning took out entire squads of special forces in an instant - leaving behind only ashes and shadows of former men. Woodcutters in the forested Ardennes region where he escaped claimed that he made a hideout in the woods, veiled by a heavy magical miasma.
Carpet bombing the area didn't seem to work. Patrols came back at half strength, with survivors giving harrowed tales of men struck down like pins and blasted to smithereens. Civilians started to evacuate the region, afraid of getting caught in the conflict. Two nights ago Colonel Jensen's tent was attacked, the lead researcher on the program beheaded.
Tomorrow, we advance into that said area. I've divided my men into three squads - two will close in from the Southeast and the West respectively while the last one provides covering fire from one bound back. I'm equipping my troops with self-activated suicide vests. Hopefully they'll take that bastard with them if it's the last thing they do. No one knows how many, or if any at all, of these forty men will come back by dusk. I find solace and hope in the glittering hosts of heaven, and whatever happens tomorrow, my thoughts are forever with you, love. | 2019-06-03T19:56:05 | 2019-06-03T19:51:14 | 54 | 18 |
[WP] Last words aren't just words spoken before death, but actually call death to you. You have known your last words for years and kept death at bay by refusing to speak them. Now, however, they need to be said. | He descended from the dome ceiling without aid of an exosuit. His landing in the middle of the rock garden was quiet and drew little attention from the security drones. After all - he had no sonic resonators or gamma emmiters He had nothing but a standard lifesuit, issued to all peasant Earthians, on their way to mining colonies.
My paramours and pleasurebots took no notice of the visitor, but they looked to me with the same inquisition they always have. I could almost feel the buzzing of communication going on between them on the neural net. They are always curious about my thoughts, considering I've refused to integrate to the collective. My disinclination to have everyone around me know my thoughts is a perversity on Titan, and my neighbors only know of my age and immense personal wealth, never the inner workings of my comparatively limited mind. But it is necessary to guard them from the knowledge of the words. The words that corrupt every one of my thoughts, crying out to be uttered. Begging to be expounded and released for Death to hear and find me to end this hellish perspective once and for all. The words I learned in my 34rd year, when I deposited my paycheck of 600 dollars into an account, which over the centuries has compounded to make me the oldest and wealthiest person in Solar, save Queen Elizabeth II herself.
Still, I recognized his glare. He was an Earthian, judging by the hollow sockets where eyes never sat. His nanobots swarmed around his head, imputing sensory information faster than even my paramours, whose genes are edited and patched daily. I knew why he was here. An assassin sent from one of my rival asteroid harvesters, sent to kill me in whatever way he could. I've never feared these soulless creatures, because they were always with weapons or sentinels that inflict horrible suffering upon me - and yet never have I left this body. He walked unevenly, not used to the atmospheric simulations of the life-dome. As he approached I realized he knew the words. He was going to say the words! If only I had integrated with the collective, I could have asked for help. Feet from me, he opened his tooth-less mouth and said, "Here come dat boi"
Helpless to fate, I could only reply, "o shit whaddup!" | First response, sooo...
My last words. I'd avoided them for years, knowing that they would begin death's inevitable march towards me. I'd kept my distance from people ever since I learned what they were, always avoiding a situation where they could be spoken.
But now, in this moment, I realize that maybe that was a mistake. Maybe the unknowable time between speaking them and deaths arrival would make dooming myself worthwhile.
"I love you." | 2017-08-07T11:49:49 | 2017-08-07T08:52:42 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] You run the only, and most successful magic potion shop in Brooklyn, NY. Not a single grievance or complaint from customers. The potions can temporarily energize the user, fix back problems, simulate catnip, etc. You have no idea what you're throwing together. | Did I know what I was doing? No. Did it work? Too well, actually.
It all started with my dream of owning a coffee shop in Brooklyn. Yes, yes, it's a terrible idea, and I knew it. But it was a dream! My dream. Which also afforded me a lot of time to daydream, considering the amount of customers I had.
Long hours turned into days. Short days turned into weeks. Before I knew it, I obviously couldn't afford rent for another month, a lovely story that had been told ever since I started this endeavour. I was at my wit's end. Actually, I've been at the end for a long while, and I was ready to jump off the cliff into the great unknown.
So, I dabbled. I came up with something that nobody ever had. A magic potion.
It was a joke, of course. Just branding. I just mixed in whatever coffee beans I had left, along with a mish mash of actual milk, almond mlk, oat milk... you get it. I was desperate. It just had to taste like something different, something unique. I didn't even particular cared what it tasted like. Something had to be sold. I even put it in a little glass potion bottle, because why the hell not? It somehow... glowed. Swirling it around revealed intense curls of grey and black in the mostly brown mixture.
While I was experimenting with it, a bored-looking man walked into my store, the typical stereotype of an office worker struggling to keep up with corporate culture. I probably looked like him just a few months back, so I could definitely relate. Initially, he probably just wanted a normal cup of coffee, but his eyes became glued towards the little potion I had sitting on the counter.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Um," I said. "My new product. The Magic Potion."
Very original, I thought to myself as I winced slightly. Hoped he didn't pick up on that.
"Hmm," he muttered, rubbing his chin. "Looks... interesting."
"You want to try it?"
"What?"
"Er... it's a new product. I've not tested it yet. You can have this for free, if you'd like."
"Oh," he said. "Don't mind if I do, then."
He took it back to his table. He swirled it around a bit. He sniffed it. He sipped it. Then in the blink of an eye, the entire drink disappeared down his throat. The man immediately jumped up, speeding out of my door and into the distance. Guess thousands of homogenized coffee chains in the city can drive people to do crazy things. To my surprise, that person came back in about 30 minutes, bringing a disinterested friend with him.
"Dude, you really gotta try this," he said enthusiastically.
"There's no way man. My back pain is chronic. Everything I've tried didn't work," said the friend.
"Trust me, dude. When I drank it, I literally forgot all my troubles. The Magic Potion was the best thing I've ever drunk. Seriously."
"Magic Potion? What the hell, man," the friend said.
"Um," I chimed in. "Hi?"
"Good, you're still here," the man rushed up to me. He grabbed my hands enthusiastically, which was unexpected. "Could I please have another Magic Potion. Actually, two, please?"
"Oh," I said. "It was just an experiment. I haven't actually..."
"Please," he pleaded. He took out his wallet, slamming two 20-dollar bills on the table. "Please."
"Er," I said, eyeing the bills. "OK, sure."
I retreated back into the kitchen, retracing my recipe as best as I could. When the distinctive, swirling brown came out, I knew I had struck gold once again. I poured them into the potion bottles once again, and handed them over to the enthusiastic man and his sceptical friend.
The man who had paid me drained his coffee in seconds, in spite of its scorching heat. His friend looked at him in bewilderment.
"That can't be good for you," he said.
"It's nothing like you've ever tried before. Please drink it. I even paid for you."
The sceptic picked it up. He sipped it. Eyes widened, he gulped one mouthful after another.
"You are right," the suspicious guy piped up. "I... can't even remember. Is this what it feels like to live without back pain?"
"Right? You forget all about it! All your troubles, all your problems. It's magic!"
And so, the stories spread far and wide. The Magic Potion became the defining drink of my store.
Did I know what I was doing? No. Did it work? Too well.
So, I had to try it. I've sold hundreds of it in a day, and I don't even know how it tasted, just that it worked.
I brewed a batch. I sipped it.
God. What was this feeling? So... warm inside. My mind went blank from the insane pleasure. No wonder they kept coming back for more.
I stared at the swirly brown coffee in front of me again. Wait, how the heck do I make this again?
---
r/dexdrafts | “You bastard, you will never get away with this. Do you think you can keep cutting us out of your profits? You think we won’t eventually find out the secret to your ‘magical’ potions. Magic doesn’t exist, whatever fancy medicine you have, we will steal and patent it, then you will regret ignoring my offers!”
The balding man shouted across the counter, bits of spit leaving his lips with each disgruntled word. It was a fairly common occurrence, Tim found it easier to ignore people like him. Usually, after a while, they would tire themselves out and head home. This man, however, seemed to be in quite a mood, holding up the line with his ramblings until finally, an annoyed customer delivered a speedy kick to his rear, causing the man to hobble out with a glare, a wave of curses following his exit.
“Jeez, they really don’t like you. This has to have been the third one this week. Still, I’m surprised you haven’t accepted their offer, Someone told me they were offering you a few million for your secret. Most people would be happy with that, yet here you are, serving the common people like some saint.”
The bodybuilder like man stood before the counter, resting his forearm against the glass, causing it to whimper beneath the heavy meaty bit of flesh. He was a regular, a fairly nice man once you learned to ignore the smell of sweat and gin that drifted from him. Thankfully for him, Tim had learnt to ignore that.
“Well, you know what they say. Nine out of ten doctors hate me! This magician has one easy step to cure any of your ailments.” Tim laughed, waving his fingers as if he were casting a spell.
“Heh. At least we all love you Tim. Anyway, I was hoping to get something for my armpit hair. It’s just lost that usual shine, you know?”
“I certainly don’t know.... But let me see If I can whip something together for it.”
Tim drifted towards the back of the shop, glancing over his ingredients. What the hell does one even add to make armpit hair shine? Tim trusted his gut, mixing a few various vegetables in a blender before finally spraying a touch of deodorant into the mixture. Returning to the counter, he shoved it towards the man.
“Twenty for that. Let me know if it works, I haven’t had someone want hair shine before, if it works I might add it to my menu.”
“Sure Tim, just be careful, I hear people are trying to buy your mixture for certain unethical parties. You know the kind that wants to deconstruct your potions and remake them.”
“Oh, don’t worry, no one could ever create something the way I do. You need my touch to make them.”
The two laughed, Tims was more forced, he didn’t understand how his potions worked. Constantly changing his recipes with each potion made, unsure even what most of the original recipes were. Each potion was unique, making it impossible to replicate his work. Whatever made them work wasn’t the result of some ingredient, it resulted from Tim himself.
Tim waved the man off before returning to the others. Ready to create another miracle.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2020-08-30T04:23:01 | 2020-08-30T03:24:38 | 918 | 232 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | It really sounds good on paper. Everyone gets a superpower. Oh, there are people with awesome powers. Eki Magnusson, the current president of the great and bountiful human empire has the gift of luck; whatever choice he makes will turn out for the best. Since he was eighteen, his ambition to find challenges pushed humanity centuries into the future within a decade. He was the first of us; he gave us the gifts, and since, humanity has become the center of the Milky Way's coalition of species.
Ten minutes until my eighteenth birthday, when my gift will come. I always wanted something flashy, like matter manipulation, where I could build skyscrapers with my mind. Or perhaps something interesting, like the aura readers, able to help those in need in just the way that can fix them in truth (and also, they know which girl is right for them at a glance, that's pretty sweet). The mathemagicians were kinda scary though, being one of them seems tough.
My best mate, Jerry, killed himself. It's rare, but it happens. He got telepathy, the poor sod. While very handy, and help greatly in things like assessing who would be a proper ambassador to which alien species, first contact missions, and so on... it's just. Well, he was always a gentle guy, and those are the type to suffer from telepathy most. It sucked. He'd be awesome with anything that could use creativity and intelligence, but sometimes people just get unlucky.
It's two minutes until it starts. My mom and dad are in the living room. They don't want to intrude, but they're waiting. They'll want to help me figure out what power I have. Dad's an empath, so he'll help me get through it, after all, he always helps his patients. Mom's invulnerable, so even if I freak out she'll be able to handle it... she took a vacation day for this. My big brother is an illusionist, far too rare a power, and he can't be home for this. All of my family has extremely rare powers, my uncle is the first person who could create gateways for instantaneous travel between locations. Maybe I'll be fabulously rich and famous like him.
Oh hey, it's a minute past. Nothing happened, so I suppose I'm safe. Time to bite the bullet and go see the parents.
I walked towards the living room, and looked at my dad. Instantly, I saw a vision of my mom, crying as she stabs him over and over. Then it was just him again. I ran away. What else could I do? My mom popped up on my left, and I saw her in a padded cell, age upon her, as she stopped breathing. Out of the house, just needed to get out.
People were walking in the street. I could see how each and every one of them died. One in a car accident. Two on operating tables. I shut my eyes, but the visions kept coming. I screamed. | **10 seconds.**
My dad was able to fly.
**9 seconds.**
My mum had the ability to heal wounds.
**8 seconds.**
On your 18th birthday, you recieve a superpower, my birthdy is in
**7 seconds.**
It is something you just know. "Like a switch in your mind" my dad always says.
**6 seconds.**
My mum and dad look at me, just as curious as I am.
**5 seconds.**
I hope it's not something useless, like Eva, my sister.
**4 seconds.**
She has the ability to open doors from a very long distance.
**3 seconds.**
Only open them, she can't close them.
**2 seconds**
A lot of scientists did research, but awesome superpowers vs. lame superpowers did not seem to run in the family.
**1 second**
I close my eyes.
**0 seconds.**
The ability to walk halfway through walls.
-------------------
**wow Gold!** i never expected to get gold, so thank you very much anon! You are amazing! Thank you :) | 2015-03-28T06:27:10 | 2015-03-28T05:36:19 | 70 | 37 |
[WP] One day everyone notices the words "Human Update 1.1 progress 1%" in the corner of their eye. | If you're careful, you can just catch it. Sitting there, in the corner of your field of view. There's a little trick you have to do to focus just right to be able to read the words. "Human Version 1.1 Update: Progress 1%"
No progress bar, at least none that you can reliably reproduce. Maybe the update gets us a progress bar? Or like, some life-time statistics, like in those what if questions that pop up all over the internet. No-one can agree on the font. Of all the things, why focus on the font? There's urban rumours of people offing themselves after apparently deciding they couldn't live with a God that types in Comic Sans.
All the churches are in uproar of course. "End Times", "Second Coming", "Redemption Of Man", "Quick Repent All Your Sins Before Jesus Gets Back". Yadda yadda. The progress has gone up by 0.1% in the last few weeks, and pretty much everyone's freaking out. Riots in North Korea, and Russia, and China, and America, and Europe, and the Middle East, and....
The genius of it, I think, is that the mere knowledge that a better/different state of humanity is coming, is enough to motivate change. People are energized. They want to do things, get stuff done before everything about being human is redefined forever. Most of ISIS has splintered, and over half the resistance have split off into a subgroup dedicated to stopping the remaining half. Down in Columbia they're burning the cocaine plantations. All those riots I mentioned above aren't senseless violence, they're ordinary people trying to enforce a change for the better. For the first time in a long time, people have something that implies a God is
a) up there, and
b) compassionate enough to care, even if only a little.
Just those two ideas are enough, and suddenly the whole world wants to clean up their act. It's damn brilliance, is what it is.
I half expect that the "update" is supposed to be more like a Quest Completion Bar. And as we strive to make the world better, as the corrupt and wicked slowly falter in the face of a metaphysical Big Brother, the progress bar will slowly rise.
It won't be easy, but then no quest ever is. | Everyone panicked. But then we realized. It had taken thousands upon thousands of generations to make 1% of the update. The rest would most likely not come in our lifetimes, nor in our descendants', or in their descendants'.
God gleefully cheered. "I can't believe it's updating! Stupid Comcast lost all my packets, but this time, it's gonna work for sure!"
The next day, everybody noticed the words, "Human Update 1.1 progress 3%" in the corner of their eyes. | 2015-03-04T17:26:24 | 2015-03-04T16:33:29 | 182 | 123 |
[WP] Upon leaving out fruits and milk for cats and birds, you accidentally attract a few grateful faeries who only know how to thank you by pulling pranks on anyone who "bothers" you. | *They mean well*. I told myself as the car across the street burned. It was the latest trick by a new group of fairies that now inhabited the neighborhood- more specifically my back yard.
I had always grown up leaving birdseed, hummingbird feeders, fruits, and even milk out for stray animals and other woodland creatures. My grandmother taught me that as we take land from the animals, we must give back at least a few of the resources they lost. We would build bat huts, bird houses, and my grandfather would hollow out holes in fallen dead trees to give them a little of the space that had been taken from them. As a child, even the fairy houses we would all build together would be placed outside in trees to be occupied by anything that was bold enough to call it home.
These habits continued well into my adulthood now my wife has continued the traditions with me, especially now that we live on the Woodline of a nice suburban neighborhood.
When we made our fairy houses specifically, my grandmother would tell me the stories of her homeland, my favorite being the ones of the Tuatha Dé Danann and their homeland of Tir na nÓg. Even little me never dreamt of seeing a fairy in real life.
But a few weeks ago I learned that animals weren’t the only ones that appreciated my offerings.
They truly meant well. Fairies and Fae are tricksters by nature. They enjoy playing pranks and leading humans off into darkness with wild stories and promises they tend to twist rather than keep. When we first arrived, our little suburban neighborhood in Missouri apparently wasn’t ready for a lesbian couple with an eighteen month old baby.
We would get stares, dirty glances, and whispers at every block party we attended. It wasn’t acceptable to outright be homophobic in this town, but apparently talking behind backs and ghosting neighbors was perfectly fine. It didn’t take long for me to want to move back home to California, but we had come here specifically to be closer to my wife’s aging parents, who will be moving in with us probably within the next year.
When this idea became inevitable, I knew this attitude with our neighbors wouldn’t fly. My inlaws would pick physical fights with anyone who dared speak bad about their daughter and daughter in law, and while I’m sure it’d be hilarious, it wouldn’t be a good example to set for our son.
I tried interacting with our neighbors more, trying to prove to them that we were no different than any other family, but was often met with communally required politeness and nothing more. But then the accidents started happening.
Holes in tires, mail getting tossed about the yard, sometimes even lawn decorations turned upside down or thrown into trees. All the traits of some neighborhood trickster, but these occurrences would only happen after a sour interaction with our family.
The neighbors of course blamed me once this trend was discovered, but when the judgy looks turned to angry glares and police calls, the tricks got worse.
Pets getting let out of their yards, kid toys getting destroyed and hung in windows, to tripping over well-placed objects… it soon became obvious I couldn’t do all of these things alone and when turning on themselves didn’t work, they one by one gave up looking for causes.
Hell, I only learned the truth just last week, when I *saw* a fairy tie our across the street neighbor’s shoe laces together as he was talking to the mailman. When the mailman drove off and he tried to walk away, the poor guy fell and broke his hip, and I was rooted to my porch in shock, astounded by what I saw and thinking “*they’re never going to believe me”*.
Knowing this, I kept my mouth shut and took the judgement for not immediately running to help him.
Our poor neighbor had just come home today, and I brought over some food for him and his wife as an apology and peace offering. They took it, but without thanks and gave a quick quip about “too little too late” before shutting the door in my face.
Oh, they had no idea the hell they were about to reap, for apparently the fairies felt this a massive infraction against the rules of hospitality.
Or at least it was something like that. Because my God, their car was on *fucking* ***fire***.
I had already done my civil duty by calling the fire department while my wife warned the neighbors of their poor vehicle’s fate, and now we waited from our porch for the help to come.
Glancing over at one of our bird feeders that was filled with fruits for butterflies, I saw one of the fairies gathering up an orange slice in its thin arms. It looked to us and nodded before vanishing right before my eyes.
Blinking, I accepted the fact that this was how things would be and returned to watching the burning car just as it exploded. Nodding, I reminded myself, *they mean well,* and took a sip of my tea.
Edit: WOAH thanks for the silver! | "Elizabeth Rose! What happened here?" I shout to the next room.
My blonde little mischief maker peeks around the corner. She advances with her small dirty hands hidden behind her. Tiny toes kneading into the carpet. Wide green eyes, showing pretend shock, looking at the potted plant, now laying pitifully on its side. Dirt, leaves, and petals strewn over the carpet. Along with Lizzie sized footprints, leading away from the scene.
"Mommy. It wasn't me. I didn't do it. It's not MY fault!" She whined while shaking her head.
"Well then, exactly whose fault would it be then?" I asked, trying to keep a straight face. She always came up with the best excuses.
"Momo was chasing the fairies! He a-most snatched one but he jumped into the flowers mama! Momo knocked it over, no me!" Her little hands and lept up to help provide a visual aid to how the cat had attacked the plant.
"Well how did you get so dirty then?" I asked. She has been talking about the fairies a lot lately. For two weeks now every cup, plate, toy, and now pot that had broken or been moved to the middle of the floor for the upteenth time has been because of these damn fairies.
She mumbled something about not knowing how she got so dirty as I led her to the kitchen to wash her hands. I left her drying off to quarantine the section of the living room from her and the cats tiny toes.
"Mommy!" I hear, only for the 102nd time today.
"Yes, lizzie? What is it baby?" I yell back. Fighting with the baby gate.
"It is time to feed the kitties?" I hear pitter patters across the room.
"Are the birds outside too? Don't go out till I come back!" I shout, but by then it was too late. I had heard the door slide open and closed. Gotta start putting that pole down now that she is tall enough to reach the lock.
I turn to go to the back yard. It is fenced in, so she can't get to the road, but I still like to watch her out there. You never know.
I come around the corner and see out the sliding glass door my little baby girl on a stepping stone, just a few feet away from the porch. Tiny blonde ringlets fall over her shoulders and she is giggling and waving her arms around. She looks like a fairy herself agains the lush green elephant ears her daddy planted along the path. She hasn't noticed me yet, so I keep watching from inside. So as not to disturb her game.
I crack the door so I can hear her.
"Bad fairy! No breaking my mommas pot! No, no!" She had her finger pointed straight up in the air, wagging it back and forth at nothing.
She immediately went back to giggling and ran down the stone path towards the back of the yard, chasing after something I couldn't see. I take a deep breath, and open the door to find her. I had a plate ready to give her with all the bird's and cat's favorite treats. She liked to be the one to set them around. | 2019-10-27T18:36:00 | 2019-10-27T18:30:06 | 42 | 18 |
[WP] Every person has a button they can press at night that deposits a large sum of money to their bank account. However, the first person to press it each night is horrifically killed. | Henry Cox eyed the waitress who was working behind the counter. Amelia was a little scared, if not worried. At the same time, however, she kept looking at the clock hung up by the entrance.
"Hey," he called out to her. "come here, I got a favor to ask."
"What?" she responded nervously.
"C'mon, it'll only take a sec."
She cautiously approached Henry and stood right beside him. He pointed at the seat in front of him.
"Sit 'own, I got a proposal for you."
She hesitantly sits across from him. "What do you want...sir?"
"It's not about what I want, more like what I'm about to give you."
"Sorry?"
Henry looks around, sees nobody in sight, and continues "You know about the new rule, right? The one where we get tons of money if we press the button after the first sucker presses it?"
"Yeah...and the first one who presses it dies."
"Mhm..." he calmly reaches for his pocket and pulls out the button. "See the clocks reset every midnight. Right now it's 3AM, so there's a good chance that someone's press the button."
"Why are you telling me this?" Amelia became more and more agitated as they continued on the topic of the button.
"Because I want to deposit. I'm sure you do too, right?"
She responded with a loud gulp.
Henry continued "I see you eyeing that clock every few minutes. You're thinking whether or not if it's safe to deposit, right?"
Amelia didn't respond at all. She was shaking, nervous. She had a feeling he knew what he was about to offer.
"You're a sweet girl, young and innocent...but me? Honey, I've been through shit. Too much of it, in fact. That's why I'm gonna end it all here." He places the button on the table in front of them. "Your name tag says 'Amelia'. That's a pretty name."
"T-Thank you."
"Amelia...tonight's the night I change my life. I need the money to pay off my sins. I'm in over my head with debt, so much so that I'm being threatened to go homeless if I don't pay it off soon. That's why I'm taking action. Amelia, I'm gonna press that button right now. And I might die. Or I might get paid. Either way, I'm gonna be so relieved. All that weight will be lifted off my shoulders."
"What does this have to do with me...?"
"Because I want to see you happy. If I die, you'll get the money. If I live, you'll get the money. This button has made everyone crazy. No one knows who, if anyone, has pressed the button. So why not just get a free front row seat ticket to the man who might have been the first person to press it?"
Amelia looked scared, but thoughts swirled around her head. She really liked the idea of being free of stress from this looming thought that she might die tonight, but will it be at the cost of another life? Still, it was what he wanted. Amelia felt happy to oblige to a suicidal man's wish, if it'll make her richer.
"Okay...I'll just...stay here, right?"
Henry nodded. "I hope we can both come out on top." Henry slowly brings back the button and brings it close to his chest. "This is it..."
Amelia winces and turns her head away.
**CLICK**
Silence washes over the heavy atmosphere. Amelia looks at Henry and smiles. Henry has his eyes closed tight, and looks astonished when he opens his eyes again to see Amelia's smile.
"I'm..alive! Thank God!"
"I'm so happy for you!" Amelia said gleefully. She giggled and continued "I guess, I should deposit too!" She pulls out her button and immediately clicks it.
"I'm so glad we could both come out on top." Henry smiles at her, and she smiles back.
Amelia's smile suddenly vanished when she feels something boiling within her skin. She looks at her hand and notices her veins bulging out, and her skin literally bubbling and oozing out of her bones. Her face was peeling off, and she tries her best to shriek, but her voice soon vanishes as her neck begins to tear open and her eyes simultaneously pop like grapes. She melts slowly, the skin turning into a puddle of flesh and bones, organs slowly evaporate, and her hair turns to ash.
Henry looks at the puddle, unperturbed. He grabs Amelia's button and reaches into his other pocket. Within he pulls out a separate button and pushes it. His phone then jingles soon after pressing the button. Henry checks his phone, and in bright colorful letters, he sees the following:
#**"Congratulations! Your money has been deposited! You get a bonus for being the secon...Click Here to Show More"**
Henry powers down his phone and walks away from the scene, leaving the first button he pressed behind and taking Amelia's button with him.
The next night around 1AM, Henry walks into a bar and sees a lonely bartender washing some cups. He whistles at the Bartender's direction, and he looks towards Henry's direction.
"Hey," he called out to him "come here. I've got a favor to ask." | I glanced over at the button on my desk that'd appeared yesterday night. It seemed everyone in the world had one now. It'd appeared yesterday with a note attached. Apparently anyone after the first person who'd pressed it would receive a significant sum of money, and judging by today's radio broadcasts, the button worked. As a doctor, however, I was fairly well off and didn't have much need for money at the moment. In fact, I don't think I've wanted for much at all in my life. Well liked, respected, and beautiful, I had almost everything a person could want. Still, a few thousand dollars more wouldn't hurt. I could take a week off and travel somewhere tropical. Relax.
For some reason, I'd never felt much of a connection to anyone. Sympathy and empathy were emotions I simply never experienced. However, most people liked me. In fact I was very close to a number of people; I just simply didn't care about any of them. I remember in elementary school pushing kids down the stairs and pretending it was an accident. In college I spread a rumor my best friend had raped a middle schooler. For the rest of the year he was called a rapist and a pedophile. When he found out it was me who'd started the rumor he found me after school and screamed and cried. I could see how betrayed he felt but honestly I just didn't care. I told him if he didn't shut up I'd say he'd raped me as well. No one would believe the alleged rapist over the weak, pretty girl.
Anyways, it was 11:30 at night. I picked up my phone and dialed Liz, an old friend. She had fallen on some hard times recently. Currently an unemployed single mother, she'd told me recently how desperate she was for money. Yesterday she'd said how she wanted so badly to push the button but she couldn't bear the thought of leaving her children behind.
She picked up the phone.
"Hello?" She said. From her tired voice it was obvious I'd woken her up.
"Hey! Liz, it's me. How's it going?"
"Areana? Areana Wei? What are you calling me for? It's almost midnight."
"I know, I know. I'm so sorry. But listen to me for a second, I promise it’s worth it. The button could solve your problems. You could have enough to support your family until you can find another job. You could take your kids out tomorrow and eat a good, hearty meal. And you know what? I've just pressed it!"
"What?"
"I've just pressed it. It's late at night, so it's really unlikely I'm going to die. And now you can press it. You know you can't be the first to press if you do it now."
"Oh. Oh! Oh my God Areana. Oh God. Thank you! Thank you so much. I can't say how much this means to me. Thank you."
I waited until I heard the click of the button from her side of the call. Then, I hung up and pressed my own button.
I don't know if she was the first to press the button tonight or not. Either way, it doesn't really affect me. I turned to my computer and began to plan my vacation.
btw, this is my first post on reddit!
Edit: Wow, I think this is the most likes and comments I've gotten on anything. Thanks, you guys. This is really encouraging. | 2016-07-16T18:32:31 | 2016-07-16T18:24:40 | 1,306 | 141 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | *Alex* had always been a tomboy, hair a dusty brown.
Wore *her* hair in a messy, spikey crown.
Alex liked their pants baggy,
Sometimes Alex stuffed it with a sock,
Her face was screaming cheerleader,
When what she wanted was jock.
She grew up feeling awkward,
As if she would never have her way,
Her town was not accepting,
So she couldn't come out gay.
She left Madonna Village,
To find herself a path,
But she felt so damn guilty,
She would gain God's wrath.
She was twenty when she met him,
With his face pale and poised,
Sam whispered in the morning,
"Can I help you pick out clothes?"
Sam would braid her hair with flowers,
He would dress her in white gowns,
He would tell her she was perfect,
With her daisy chain crown.
He would flame her cheeks with red,
Make her lips turn sunset blush,
And push her into the world,
The corporate fucking rush.
*She* was always shaking,
She felt like she was wrong,
She preferred her boxer briefs,
To a lacy, silver thong.
And Sam would let her dress him,
In blazers, yellow shirts,
He would ignore her hands shaking,
As if this physically hurt.
Sam was handsome, clearly,
But he withered in the suite,
No matter who said, "Nice, man"
Each compliment was moot.
.
One morning, Alex sat down,
A paper in her hand,
She read the headlines,
She didn't understand.
*Mugs Tell the Truth.*
*#1 Dad a Lie.*
*Every Single Mug!*
*No One Wants to Buy.*
It seems that some weird creature,
Had cursed the world to see,
Exactly how crappy,
Their parenting would be.
Alex watched her 'husband'
Move about the room,
Holding up his plain black mug,
Waiting for the BOOM.
She touched her own mug softly,
Her eyes growing so bright,
Right there is red letters,
It said #0 Dad, alright.
She didn't tell her husband,
She didn't make a scene,
But every time she touched a mug,
DAD could be seen.
She put her hand on her belly,
Perhaps it was time to tell,
That despite her growing hatred,
There was a baby in this shell.
| Joe Mills had a #1 Dad mug, but he wasn't sure he'd ever get the chance to actually be a dad. His wife, Lucy, had had a miscarriage a month after she bought him the mug to celebrate the long-awaited positive pregnancy test.
Months after the miscarriage occurred, Joe was sorting through their guest room closet, which held all of the baby items they bought. He opened a box, looked inside, and had to stop himself from dropping it.
#3,062,487 Dad?
He sunk to his knees and called for Lucy. He was finally going to be a dad. | 2022-11-12T17:52:35 | 2017-06-11T11:14:29 | 69 | 46 |
[WP] You are happily married and have a 4 year old child with your SO. But when your child starts to develop super powers one day, you have serious questions for your SO who has always seemed to have a boring accounting job. | The Volvo steered itself down the road, lane-assist functions following the painted lines in the road, one hand resting loosely on the wheel. He was tired, so tired. He'd been awake for over twenty-four hours, running the whole situation through his head over and over. It started one day when their four year old baby began to float - in the middle of the living room. He'd laughed, the cutest laugh ever, as he reached for a teddy that he brought with him into the air. Brian had not believed his eyes. It had to be some hallucination, or a dream. He'd stood there, frozen in shock, only brought out of it when his baby boy hit the ceiling with a thud, and began to cry.
That was a week ago.
Whenever he'd brought the issue up with his fiancé, she'd brushed it off, claiming he must have been dreaming. What he described was ludicrous, bordering on insane. He hadn't told her of the subsequent events after that - the baby setting a tree in the yard on fire with two lines of laser coming straight from its' eyes, or when he'd had to frantically climb to the garage roof and just barely had time to catch the baby by the leg before it floated off into the sky by itself. He knew she was lying then, and the lies were a betrayal in itself, but yesterday evening had been the true betrayal.
Men had arrived at their home, driving black SUV's. He remembered everything vividly about that evening. They'd jumped out of the cars, swarming towards the house in coordination, weapons drawn. He remembered his confusion, rushing out to confront them, his surprise when he saw the weapons.
As well as the surprise on their faces when they saw the shadow of a woman on their lawn, a silhouette in the sky, blotting out the sun.
She was supposed to be at work that day, but she'd taken time off on Brian's request - they had to talk, and while she'd avoided the subject that whole morning, once he felt they were finally getting somewhere on the topic, the men came.
The rest of the memory was a blur. She'd crashed into the ground, sending a shockwave not unlike an earthquake across the ground. There was gunfire, as she zipped from man to man in the blink of an eye, knocking them several feet back. One man was sent flying into the SUV, crushing it, instantly killing him. Her face had been one of fury and determination, and each blow she dealt either shattered bones or outright killed.
What came next he remembered with clear lucidity. Sophie stood there in the middle of bloody chaos, neighbors coming out of their houses, watching. The SUV had caught fire. She held their baby boy, Toby, in her arms, and she was crying. A whisper came, *I'm sorry*, she'd said, and then she took off into the sky, sending a gust of wind towards Brian that nearly toppled him. She was a dot in the sky suddenly, and then there was an ear-deafening sonic boom as she streaked across the sky faster than a jet.
He'd spent the whole day scrambling to find something to go on, some way to reach her, when he got the text.
It was an address.
The Volvo turned off the main road and onto gravel, silhouettes of tall trees on both sides of the road. He'd driven for nearly twelve hours, but he was finally here. At the end of the gravel road, he saw a light. A tiny cabin.
As he got out of the car and got closer he saw two red orbs floating in the dark. He realized it was Toby, charging up his eyes. Sophie covered the babies eyes with her hand, soothing the baby. "It's just daddy, dear."
"Sophie", Brian said. "It's time. I have to know."
She simply nodded once. "There's tea inside. I'll give you an hour. And then me and Toby have to leave - and you, you... You should probably resettle, with a new name, and a new identity, in fact, I know a guy --" She began to rant.
"Sophie, slow down. Let's have that tea first, yeah, baby?"
"Okay," she said, and they went inside. | “Honey? Can we talk please?” I finally found a time to talk to Gretel tonight. She put her book down on the night stand and looked at me.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Uh, well I’m not sure you know this but uh... Tommy was flying.”
Gretel looked shocked. “Flying you say?”
“Flying. Was going to bring him a bag of chips today. And when I came home is zooming around the room.”
“Oh...” Gretel looked down on the blanket covering us. “Flying...”
“But wait! There’s more. Because when I asked him what was going, he just kept saying he had no idea. He saw a bird and was thinking about flying. All of a sudden he was doing just that!”
Gretel shook her head, then made a face like she just figured something out. But I still continued to talk.
“But wait. Later on that day I was going to charge my phone when Tommy came and snatched it. He started flying around, AGAIN, and playing keep away. I managed to get it back him but SOMEHOW it was fully charged. Like he was a tiny human charger!”
“Look, dear. I’m just as surprised as you that our son has superpowers.”
“You bet I am! And I know I don’t have anything like that, but you know who does?”
She started sweating. “Um... The Generator-“
“The Generator! Our friendly super charged crime fighter who I only ever see whenever you aren’t around. So... what really happens during your day?”
Gretel started stuttering. “I’m an accountant. Y-you know that... hehe...”
“Give up the act Gretel. Face it. You’re The Generator.”
“A-am not! Maybe you’re getting sick and seeing things-“ Gretel tried to deny she was the Generator, but then Tommy came in flying into our room. I aggressively gestured my hands to our 4 year old whose hair is about 3 centimeters away from the ceiling.
“Mommy? Can I sleep with you guys? I’m scared...” he said timidly. He pointed outside. “I think there’s a monster...”
Gretel reaches out to grab Tommy and hugged him. “Alright, let’s go see where this monster is.” She got up and they both went to his room. I need a way to make Gretel admit who she really is... | 2019-08-23T06:59:58 | 2019-08-23T06:49:08 | 1,272 | 22 |
[WP] Most young mages use incredibly complex spells and extremely rare ingredients to summon their familiar. You just drew a circle and threw a bag of chips in it. | A summoning circle is a curious thing. First, draw a big ass circle. Next change that circle into a big ass dragon eating it's own tail too represent the never ending circle of time, the cyclical nature of the universe, entrooy, decay, rebirth, all that kind of thing.
Inside the dragon of eternity draw A dodecahedron. The 10 inner corners become 10 torii all connected, all the same, though each one has the character of a different old good inside it. Amaterasu, goddess of the sun, bringer of life and warmth, etc, Uzume, goddess of persuasion, Okuni, good of business farming, Radin and Fugin, twins, god oni of thunder lightning wind rain and storms, and all the rest. 10 God's that keep the heavens, earth, and the below in balance.
This part of the summoning circle seems like it's the easy part but one missed line or dot or dash in the God's name means you are invoking another god, another smaller and usually less forgiving god. They can get pretty irate when you interrupt their eternity on accident. Infallible beings don't suffer mortal foibles lightly.
Inside the 10 arches is the wheel with 8 spokes. Each spoke is to represent a virtue, loyalty, honesty, logic, blah, blah, blah. You get the idea. Just make sure your write virtues you believe in. Won't do any good to invoke "faithfulness" if you are cheating on your girlfriend. The important bit is that you have a limited space to write the word, with sand, in the spokes as the inner hub and outer wheel are not that far apart, by necessity. We still have 4 more layers to go and already we are running out of room.
Inside the round hub of the wheel of virtues is the pentagram of sin. An ornate 5 pointed star, drawn with 5 colors of sand. Apathy, gluttony, wrath, lust, ignorance. This layer is a ward, to keep the evils of humanity at Bay. Tricky and the hardest layer to learn to draw. You must hold your hand and emotions firm ad resolute. Moving not to slowly or to fast and with purpose.
Inside the inner pentagram is a square. In the ancient runes each side is named, hierarchy, cooperation, theft and giving. The opposing forces of society. Working for another or yourself. Giving it taking. The opposing nature of the world of our making. There is great power in the contradictions.
The next layer is a triangle. Three swords drawn with glass dust, one clear, one red, one yellow, each blade touching the hilt of the next. The sword of power is yellow like the sun, because power can make the world better or burn it to ash. The sword of wisdom is clear and reflective like a ghost mirror. Clear and reflective, unbiased and self reflective. Wisdom IS, without flaw, and this you must always be careful to remove your inherent biases and be clear of sin or want or any other human failing least this sword cut you. The third and final blade is a blade of wicked intent, red like blood. The sword of strength could be no other color. Blood for the blood in our bodies, our hearths, our sense of Justice, our desire to work and improve our lot. But also red like blood spilled in anger or our strength used to subjigate or terrorize. Might does not make right, after all, though sometimes you cannot make things right without might. The difference is often a razors edge as this sword must be.
Now, finally, the final tier is a simple circle, drawn with salt. Nothing fancy here, but it must be a complete circle, any gaps would allow the djinn a way to escape and start breaking through your other wards.
This is the circle of Solomon. The circle passed down through the eons, the only way to safely summon a being from another plane. Except, it wasn't, apparently. I don't know everything but it looks like all you need to do is draw a circle with crayon or something, and throw something a djinn likes in the middle, and say something to the effect of, "help me."
I know this because last night I dropped my bag of spicy wasabi corn chips onto my replica captin america shield while drunkenly stumbling around in the dark. I called to my GF to turn on the light, and then touched the shield while saying, "help me out for a sec." And the POOF.
Rakzeb, a tier 1 djinn by the look of her, appeared floating over the shield, eating my chips, saying, "granted! this will get you one major and two minor wishes or tasks within my power. If you have some ranch dressing and a good bottle of wine we can make it 3 majors." | A wise wizard said you will only achieve perfection without trying.
I wasn't trying to prove him right, not after the hangover from last night's bootleg "mead" at the Guild's apprentice party. Circle? I made a vague circular movement with a chunk of chalk that had previously been used to make sure the pool cue wasn't too slippery. I think it was a circle, anyway. My blood-tinged eyes of Hangover Hell weren't up to actually looking at all of it in one go.
Then I dropped the chalk and it went down a sewer grate. Right then. Offering.
My reagent pouch made a disturbing crackling noise as I fished inside. I realized exactly what had spiked the punch, and why my roomie was currently at the healer's station with a third nostril whiffreading the ether. Components are friends, not food.
The bag of Lembas Crisps (so light, so filling you'd swear they were made by elves!) however was. I was anything but hungry right now so with a sweet-and-sour belch, the bag was deposited in the nearest trash-
No, missed. Right in the circle it went. Best to fish it out with a swish-and-flick of the old mage-stick.
The circle glowed as it absorbed the dim spark of power and sealed around the bag, which sank below the surface of reality with a faint *ploooooop*. I was reminded of a rapidly increasing need for the chamber pot, but not of any epic magics. Whelp. That was my homework for the day, time for a grade of "Attempt Made, Incompetent" from the old battleaxe that ran the Familiar Summons class and back to the room to discharge my wand and conjure some succubus serum to that lewd Halfling scroll-
*WHO GIFTS ME WITH THIS DELICACY, OUR PATHS BECOME ONE!*
OhmygawdmyearshavebeenstilettoedandwhotheHadesjustyelledinmyeargonnabesic-
When I saw that fae lion's face blow sweet, Elysium-scented breath up my nose, I forgot about the hangover. And the sour stomach. And the need to find a chamber pot before doing certain things to my breeches. Because boy, I did em.
But I DID get "Attempt Made, Gifted" for the course and Crispy here once the Guild stopped panicking and we managed to get my new room-sized familiar out through a side wall.
The name? Don't look at me. He's the one who wanted to be named after the "divine morsels". I'm just his master. And yours, now. So, you brought the salt and vinegar crisps, some chalk from the writing board next door, and you think you can draw a circle?
Welcome to the MacGuyver Mac Cuul School of Arcane Summoning.
Let's get dangerous.
| 2019-04-05T17:06:19 | 2019-04-05T16:43:46 | 24 | 13 |
[WP]Flip a coin. Heads you were born a hero but became a villain. Tails you were born a villain but became a hero. Tell your story without revealing which you are until the end (or not at all.) | *White Knight POV*
With each blow, the heavens echoed. Each strike could crack the crust of the planet. Our battle was one that would decide the fate of the planet.
It started just 6 months earlier: he, I, and three others awoke in a room none of us recognized. We made our way through and we discovered our powers, but worse, we discovered the truth.
The five of us fled to the earth below, upon arriving we discovered the rejects, those had not passed their requirements. The rejects were causing mass damage for a single weak reject was a match for a hundred men, and the rejects numbered in the millions with many being almost as strong as us, the five knights as we came to be known.
The Blue knight, her skill with computers was unparalleled and she was the reason we understood the alien technology. With her help we may survive the coming onslaught.
The Red knight, with a temper as hot as the explosions she caused she could destroy the rejects in nuclear fire and reverse the damage she caused. She will make the enemy pay dearly for every step they take on Earth.
The Silver knight, a master of magnetism he could control the very core of asteroids with his power. So too he could destroy the enemy’s ships before they were in range.
I, the White Knight, was given control over light itself, bending it to my will I could blind you with light or thrust you into unending darkness. With it I will defend the Earth till my last breath.
The Black knight, his power allowing him control of the very force that bound us to the ground he could use it in ways we had never thought possible. He could be the difference between victory and defeat.
When we returned to earth, the Black Knight attempted to ignore his responsibilities to the world, we were its guardian’s we had a duty to the earth. For six months, I argued with him until the Blue Knight realized that the enemy intends to attack again. In that moment I realized what I must do, we have to short a time to work with the many disparate governments of the world. We are facing extinction, we cannot have sentimentality.
Our Battle rages, I feel his waves pulling me, singularities appear in the air around me but never quite strong enough to stop me. The darkness they cause is the perfect symbol of what he wants, to keep humanity in the dark, to hold us back.
My light breaks through, I shine brighter than the sun itself, he raises his hand to shield his eyes. To protect himself, and his ideals.
I’m sorry my friend, I will not allow that.
| My hair was sopping wet, although that's to be expected in the rain. Drops laid on my eyelashes as i quickly rushed, hands on my head, into the base. I'd seldom take calls but this was a job I couldn't refuse. There was a break in, North wing, which was odd as the point of a secret base was it being just that- secret.
I swung the door open, only noticing just then I was shivering.
"Andromeda! Come on! Help us!"
It was in vain though, they had betrayed me and knew it. So I'd have to betray them as well.
"Why of course." I pulled out a gun, shot her in the head. The world was sinking. I was helping them get to somewhere pure. | 2017-04-17T11:27:59 | 2017-04-17T07:43:27 | 31 | 16 |
[WP] You are a Psychiatrist...for gods, superheroes, villains, demons, and anthropomorphic personifications of supernatural forces. Basically, in order to find you, a being must have the ability to alter reality. Your new client appears to be a normal human being. | "Hello. Take a seat."
I glance at my file as my client sits down on the black leather couch.
Grayson Murphy, is his name, according to my notes.
He signed via the web! I was hoping someone would do that- I had a lot of trouble setting that up.
I glance at him, and immediately I am slightly confused.
"You...are shorter, than I expected, Mr. Murphy. Not that it matters, anyway."
I put on my glasses. I often call them my "Smart Spectacles", because it makes me seem more professional than I actually am.
"How did you get in, Mr. Murphy? Astral plane? Sixth sense? Third eye? Oh, wait, was it the Bermuda Triangle?"
He looks confused.
"No, Doctor Tweedleditweedledum. I just walked."
I laugh, and he does too. A joking demon, perhaps. Typical.
I look over his file. He is coming in for counseling due to anxiety. I can handle that.
"So, Mr. Murphy, you are here for...anxiety issues. They stem, it seems, from frequent visions."
"Yes, Doctor. I've had these awful dreams. Dreams of rainbow colored snakes, guys in masks, lizard people. Then things started getting weird. I started to think I could somehow...walk through the mirror, or even a little reflective button on someone's shirt. Even when I looked in someone's eyes I felt as if I could travel inside their eyes to a new place."
Oh. Oh! Perhaps he wasn't joking around at all! He found my website, so he has obviously had contact with one of my heralds. They plant my name and contact information in the minds of prospective clients, FYI. He's a human! But, he's obviously been changed, modified. He can see into the Mirror Dimension somehow. How weird!
I decided to test him.
"I have a task for you, my dear Mr. Murphy."
"Yes, Doctor Tweedleditweedledum?"
He stood up, eager to do the task I wanted of him.
"You may think me mad, but I want you to go to the back of the room. Take a running start."
I walked over to the wall outside my office, and created a pathway into the Mirror Dimension. Auric, and beautifully reflective. A test.
"Run right into this wall."
I patted the shimmering wall encouragingly.
"What?"
"Yes. Run into it. Do it, I promise you'll be fine. You have an old doctor's word."
He ponders for a moment, and then decides to do it. He takes the running start, and passes seamlessly through the reflection.
I run over to the wall.
"Hello there! Can you hear me?"
"Ereh fo tuo teg t'nac I mudeldeewtideldeewT rotcoDem pleh!"
Oh. Oh dear.
"Are you stuck?"
He is pounding on the wall, trying to get out. He is screaming. Oh no, can't let other clients see this!
"Terribly sorry, chap. At least you're not experiencing visions or anxiety anymore, am I right?"
I closed the pathway, and returned to my desk.
I had a lozenge. I love lozenges. | "So... You can't do anything out of the ordinary?"
"Was I supposed to?"
The psychiastrist sighed. This was the first time in millenniums that no special being (read: superhero/supervillain) came to him. Although he was the one responsible for having all the answers, he didn't know what to do in this case, as he spoke to a man about 25 years old.
"What bothers you, my child?"
"Ah, doc. You know. Me and my coworkers are having discussions, I hate my life, I don't know how to cook, and the team I'm rooting for lost a match!"
"Hold up, son, you said you hate your life? That's something I can handle. Who are you trying to kill?"
"Haha, doc. What do you mean?"
"A superhero, then. I see. So you can't save anyone, and that's disturbing you, right? Perhaps you aren't the perfect person for the job. I know some heroes that changed sides."
"I wouldn't call exactly saving. I think the best word is 'flirting'. Do you think I should become... homossexual?"
"I don't see a problem with that."
"Well, I think it's worth a shot. Thanks, doc!"
The psychiastrist turned his back for a moment, just to hear a big crack. As he looked back, the man had disappeared, and a hole in the doc's office had been made on the roof. | 2018-06-30T04:49:30 | 2018-06-30T04:35:47 | 1,631 | 23 |
[WP] After 1 billion dollars and killer abs, a genie grants you your final wish. When asking for world peace he gives you a troubled look with the words: "Are you sure?" | I stop staring at my account balance on my phone and look at the genie. "Yes.... did you not hear me correctly? I want world peace, that is peace on Earth, no other bullshit, no twists or anything. I want all wars to cease and everyone to start compromising fairly with one another. Is that too much to ask?"
The genie makes a loudly audible swallowing noise and nervously responds, "No! Uh not at all. I can definitely do that. World peace, no more fighting, no more wars. You got it boss."
He forces himself to grow in size and soon towers over me as he stretches his arms miles wide and covers the skies.
"LET THERE BE WORLD PEACE," he echoes. With his hands, he suddenly brings them together to produce a loud thundering clap. I see sparks fly from his hands and am momentarily blinded. When my vision returns, I see that he has shrunken down to my size.
"Yup, world peace accomplished. Third wish has been granted. Hope you're happy with yourself. Now if you don't mind, back to my lamp I go."
He waves his hands around and is suddenly sucked into the lamp. Proud of myself, I take the lamp as a trophy and head home for the day, excited to plan my day as a sudden billionaire.
------
A few weeks pass, and my newly found girlfriend is still in bed sleeping. I wake up and head downstairs to enjoy the exciting ocean view my new house had to offer. I flip on the TV and browse through the channels when something on the news channel captures my eye. Something about North Korea yet again making empty threats at Japan and South Korea. Strange. I swore that I wished for world peace. I quickly traipse to my antique room and pick up the lamp. I rub it furiously and start yelling, "Hey Genie, come out, I know you're in there!"
An orange mist starts to leak from the lamp and then slowly forms into something more solid. The genie takes shape and opens his eyes. "I am YunQuf! The Mystical! An eternity I have been trapped in this bronze prison and now you, mere mortal, have summoned me, the Mystical Yunquf! The Mystical! For granting me this spare moment of freedom, I shall grant you three- oh wait... it's you again. Billionaire with the abs. Whaddya want?"
"Dude, I wished for world peace. I just flipped on the channel and North Korea is still waging wars on South Korea!" I yell with a half-confused, half-angry tone.
The genie sheepishly rubs his arms.
"Uhm, are you sure, I mean you saw me grow all big and stuff and clap my hands. You heard a thunderous clap right? Oh! were there sparks? There should have been sparks and then a bright white light."
"Uh yeah, but there's still war."
The genie takes a quick look at his lamp and slowly gets sucked in. "Oh then there's something wrong with the genie manual, let me go back in my lamp and reread it to make sure I did everything right. With magic, you never know right?" He forces a few uncomfortable laughs.
"Oh no you don't! Stay out here so I can grill you further!" I take the lamp and furiously polish it with my bare hands. The bottom half of the genie stops entering the lamp and instead is shot outwards and rejoined with his upper half.
"Alright alright, truth be told man, I'm not as mystical as I may have led you to believe, okay?"
"What the hell are you talking about? Didn't you grant me my two other wishes? What's the difference between those wishes and my last one?"
The genie sits down on one of my chairs. He conjures a bottle of absinthe and magically pours himself a shot.
"Look, I'm gonna be honest with you, jinn to man. I didn't do very well in my jinn placements exam and I actually scored in the lowest tier. Like, I'm not as powerful as other genies."
Well... that's a surprise.
"Okay... so... what about the other wishes? What's the difference?"
The genie downs his shot.
"The billion dollars is easy. The abs were easy. Basically anything that's material or physical is easily done by even the worst of the jinns. It's conjuration 101, first thing they teach. Anything beyond that like changing the way someone else thinks or keeping someone alive as long as us, that's like... that's like quantum physics for you guys, except for genies. Only the most powerful jinns can do this, like we're talking like Ifrit level man, now those guys, those are the ones you want backing you up in a supernatural war man. They're at the top of their game and can do whatever they want. Me? I'm just a low-level genie who can only find jobs granting wishes. I mean seriously look at the place I stay in. I live in a lamp.... who lives in a lamp?!"
Well... this was unexpected. I never knew just how much I shared in common with this genie.
"So... what you're saying is... that I never got my third wish?"
"Correctamundo. And as long as I don't grant you that third wish, I get to just hang around this part of the world before getting warped back to genie land and reassigned to another lamp. And frankly? I kind of don't want to go back. But all you humans are alike, so whenever you're ready, just lay that third one on me and I'll see what I can do..."
The sadness in his voice was pretty evident. It seemed that despite having all this magical power, the supernatural jinn in front of me just happens to be some poor sap that figured out early in life that he wasn't destined for great things. Exhaling a great sigh, I take the bottle and pour myself my own shot as I start telling my new found friend all about my life.
| "Fuck it, let's stop being greedy. Let's cause world peace."
The genie hesitated before responding. "...could you be more specific. Please..."
"...Um... No more war, no more wanting for anything, I don't know. Utopia."
"Again... Look kid, Genies are omniscient. We know what we need to do to fulfill a wish. I can't tell you anything about the outcome of the wish or it might invalidate it. That would mean my death. But I can tell you neither of us would like the outcome."
"Look, it's my wish. You robbed a bank for me and put me through the agony of growing a years worth of muscle in ten minutes. Those things both hurt. A lot. Now I want to be nice to the world and make it peaceful."
The genie began to panic visibly as his words fumbled out of his mouth. "Kid, I'm telling you this because my death will be no worse than what will happen. What you're asking will invalidate my job man! Who will use us if nobody ever wants anything?"
"Dude, you're bumming me out here. I'm going for the good of the world, you're going for the good of yourself. I think I know what I'll choose. Make it so."
"Well I'm dying now anyways. Screw it."
With a wave of his hand, the genie sunk back into the unassuming storm lantern I found in my grandfathers basement. I don't know why, but I expected the effects to be immediate. They weren't.
It took ten years to happen. Over that decade, I saw a new government rise. They called themselves the New Persian Empire and tried to wipe out everyone who wasn't under their flag. They had a form of political jihad under their belts. Assimilate or be invaded and forced. Most of the middle east found themselves under this rule. By the time the problem spread to the mainland of Europe, the United Nations began doing something similar.
To combat this problem, the united nations began ordering nations to attack this threat. Confused, the some nations refused. these nations were ejected from the UN and dissolved within months. These nations included Germany, Switzerland, and Australia. Remaining nations saw this and worried for their own safety. They unleashed their own arsenals of invasion troops against the Persian armies.
It was a short war. Makeshift weapons and strategies against the combined strength of countries such as China and Russia? Hardly a fight.
This was the first uniting factor. Next, the United Nations brought on Bitcoin as a form of currency for all nations to use as a primary form of currency. Britain and the United States immediately refused. These nations fell into economic depressions in months and declared international bankruptcy by the end of their respective fiscal years.
Finally the UN united all the nations under its rule to one country called the United Nations of Earth. While some countries resisted the change, most were okay with it. The nations that resisted either left the union or hesitantly joined. Those that left fell during the UN's final sanction.
During the last five years of my wait, the UN ordered the assimilation or destruction of every state not under its banner. Oddly familiar. This war took a little longer than the last, but not by much. For some reason, every nation that wasn't under the United Nations banner was already declining themselves, either economically or in military strength. Many joined out of fear. Some joined out of sensibility. Most were invaded and destroyed.
It's been ten years since I had my wish for world peace. Now I'm sitting in a peaceful world. There's no need to fight when we're given everything we need to survive. Education is free, so we can pursue our life dreams without fear of debt or failing. Food and Water are easy to obtain and distributed evenly throughout the population. And because we don't worry about other nations invading us, we have put virtually no money into peacekeeping. And with everything we ever wanted freely available, there's no need to rise up against the state.
World peace has been fully established. Sometimes I think about that genie though. His last words before vanishing. At least some of them. "Who will use us if nobody ever wants anything?" It looks like nobody. I think I accidentally made a race of creatures functionally extinct... | 2017-07-26T13:39:23 | 2017-07-26T12:59:21 | 29 | 18 |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | *The problem with suicide*, Ethan thought, looking from the gun in his hand to the drawer on the other side of
the room where he kept the bullets, *is that it requires too much initiative.*
He studied the gun, tired. Then, grunting like an old man, he pushed himself away from the mainframe computer and dragged his tired, unwashed, unattractive, unloved body to the other end of the room.
He opened the drawer, but there were no bullets there.
*I must have left them in the car.*
He looked out the window across the heavy rain beating the open patio in front of him. In the distance, he spotted
his car at the very edge of the parking lot.
"Meh. I'll do it tomorrow."
He went back to his seat.
Everyone told him that the night shift at the SETI headquarters would depress the shit out of him. They warned him that people go insane, all alone in that big NASA lab, hearing the hypnotic beep of the computers, listening, listening, listening to nothing.
"The thing is," people would say, "there are no aliens. So you're just there from ten at night to eight in the morning all alone listening to the universe. Listening to nothing."
But Ethan thought: *My wife left me, my daughter won't return my calls, my boss publicly harasses me daily and
my dog hates me so much it actually learned how to roll its eyes. I can't possibly get more depressed.*
Well, he was proven wrong, all right.
It wasn't bad at first. I mean, it was *bad*, like most of life is bad. Like, in that way that everything is bad because
of the absurdity of the human condition bad. The way that bread never really tastes that good because you know
about the heath death of the universe and all.
'Displeasing' was the word. Like thinking about the fact that there were pets aboard the Titanic.
But it wasn't *awful* until the second month. That's when Ethan really started contemplating the whole suicide
thing.
"Being alone with your own mind," he said, to the empty room around him, "is only fun if you have an interesting
mind."
Ethan didn't have an interesting mind. He was boring, and he knew that. His wife would complain daily, before she
left: "Why are you so *boring*, Ethan?"
And he'd answer: "I don't know." Because it was true. He didn't know. As far as his adult life went back, he had
always been the kind of guy who wasn't particularly into any specific kind of music, wore cotton turtleneck sweaters, drove a beige Corolla and didn't speak any foreign languages.
He was the kind of guy that drank Vanilla Coke.
*Mundane* was the word his wife used before she left.
"Mundane…" Ethan repeated, his voice echoed across the large room over the humming of the air conditioning. "Mundane."
"Shut the fuck up already, they're going to hear you," came a voice from his computer.
Ethan froze, his coffee mug halfway to his lips.
The voice had come from one of the 'listening' computers. The ones designed to capture back any signals that
might come in reply to the ones Earth sends out daily.
Those computers had never, not once, made a sound.
"What?" Ethan asked, so low he wasn't even sure he had said anything.
The screen came alive in a rainy hiss that gradually turned into a face that was… human, but not so much.
I mean, it could certainly pass for a human being's face, but… there was something off about that face. Like it had been put together by someone who had all the pieces and an instruction manual, but had never really seen a human being before.
"Stop broadcasting stuff all over space," the face said, as the image came in and out of focus. "You're gonna call their attention to yourselves. They're gonna hear you."
"Who's they?" Ethan asked, because, for some reason, *that* was the question on his mind at that moment.
The figure looked down. "Wait… are you alone there?"
"Yes."
"Shit, they got you already…" The face looked away, then back at the screen. "Listen… we'll get you aboard, don’t
worry."
"Huh…," Ethan said, now dealing with the fact that the reality of what was happening had begun to sink in and was making him feel all weird and tingly and shaky, like when he was eight years old and the magician at Leslie Brown's birthday party had called him onstage to help with the trick.
The sound of typing reached his ear from the computer, then the face said: "All right, we're beaming you in."
"Beaming… me… what?"
"Just stand still. Don't move." The face paused. "And, hey… I'm sorry about your people."
"What… what do you mean?"
"You said you are alone on the planet, right? They got to you. They killed your people. Right?"
Ethan had a lot of questions. Who was *they*? Was the person in front of him really an alien? How did that
seashell get into his shoe when he was fourteen, during a family trip to Arizona?
But he saved them for later, because he realized the face on the other side of the screen had misunderstood him.
The face thought he was alone on the planet.
"No, I meant…"
And then Ethan paused. He bit his lips and considered his life, thinking back on every interesting and noteworthy
moment he had ever lived.
A highlight reel of his life.
The whole thing took seven seconds and a half, not counting that thing with the sea lions and the pretzel, which really just happened *near* Ethan, but not *to* him.
"What?" the face asked. "What is it?"
"Nothing," he said. "Beam me up, dude."
________________
/r/psycho_alpaca =)
| Andrew sat at his computer screen watching the the playback from the deep space radio telescope. The familiar sound of static poured through his headphones. He took a long drink from the lukewarm coffee he had been nursing over the last hour when something changed in the static.
A whisper in an ocean of noise. Andrew almost dismissed it until he heard it again.
"What the..."
He twisted the frequency tuning knob and shut his eyes. Crackling noise, like sitting by a weak campfire.
"Stop."
Andrew knocked over his coffee cup as he jumped out of his chair. The word had come through crystal clear, there was no mistaking it. He clutched the headphones to his ears and waited.
The ethereal voice came through the static again, "he is...coming."
*What? Who is coming?*
Andrew played with the frequency knob again hoping to cut out the background noise, after a few seconds his hand froze on the knob.
"He is coming for you, you should have kept to yourself now he has found you. We tried to stop him, but it has cost us dearly."
Andrew could hear the pain in the man's voice clearly.
"This is the Captain of the Arbiter, you are on your own now Earth...may he have mercy on you all."
The transmission ended.
Andrew scrambled for his phone, he had to call the Director. The phone rang once before it was picked up by the Director.
"Sir, we have an emergency-"
"I know," the Director interrupted.
*How could he possibly know?*
"Forty years..." the Director whispered.
"Sir?"
"Turn the news on Andrew...good luck." The phone went silent.
Andrew spun in his chair and turned the TV on. Every channel was the same thing.
"NASA has discovered an object on a collision course with Earth traveling at incredible speed. Preliminary imaging has returned this" the newscaster paused as an image was brought up on the screen. It was a blurry photo of what looked like a man riding a motorcycle.
"The President of the United States is going to be making a statement."
The video feed switched to the President sitting behind a large wooden desk. Andrew noticed that the room was supposed to look like the Oval office but it was off somehow, the light coming through the windows behind the President didn't seem natural.
"America. It is with a heavy heart that I am addressing you today."
The President sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes.
"I am going to be honest with you," he began again, his tone completely different. Fear was plain in his voice.
"I do not know what to expect when he arrives, but it will not be good. I'm sorry. Hug your family, try to get underground, pray."
The video feed of the fake Oval office cut out and returned to a stunned news anchor.
"That was the President of the United States...uh..." there was a long awkward pause as the news anchor searched for something to say.
Andrew stood from his chair and numbly walked out of the office. Years of searching for something and he had found it. *Too late.*
He stepped outside and looked into the sky, the cool night air sent a shiver down Andrew's body. He saw a bright blue streak shooting through the star filled sky. If he hadn't seen the image on the news he would have thought it was a meteor. He watched it get closer and closer, the blue light intensifying every second. The entire Earth felt the thunderclap as it entered the atmosphere. Seconds later he felt the impact. The Earth shifted beneath his feet throwing him to the ground. An explosion of dust billowed out of the massive crater that used to be New York.
The Earth trembled as if it understood.
Dirk had returned.
---
I'm stuck on writing about a character I created a few days ago that I fell in love with. [Dirk the Star Rider](https://www.reddit.com/r/Written4Reddit/comments/4w166x/part_1_wp_you_possess_the_very_rare_quality_of/)
| 2016-08-07T04:17:42 | 2016-08-07T03:35:35 | 2,064 | 60 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | The rowdy crowd rabbled. They rabbled in a rowdier manner than any rowdy crowd had rabbled before.
“Order! Order within this hall!” shouted Mr. Hanner, the mayor of Stubbornsville. His voice reverberating around the rickety old hall.
The gathered crowd was a ragtag bunch. Mainly dressed in old potato bags, mud, and, in some cases, old potato bags made of mud. They were also difficult to control and were prone to mob fever. But the rowdiness was quickly put to bed when the doors to the hall burst open.
A woman, atop of the tallest horse the villagers had ever seen, entered and slowly trotted towards the front of the hall stopping just short of the stage. The lady unseated and descended from her high horse, slowly walking up the steps to the front of the stage.
“Greetings, peasants,” said the lady, lifting her arms aloft to greet the crown in a demeaning manner. “I come from the future and I’m here to tell you just how much better I am than you.”
The crowd didn’t react. They just looked on confused.
“Thought the whole future thing would have got a bigger reaction but let’s move on,” said the woman, pacing around the stage. “How can I be a superior person just like you, I hear you ask. Well, I have one word for you: Veganism,” said the woman, in an incredibly condescending and preachy tone.
“Are you the person who has been putting all those pictures of gross dead animals on the bulletin board?” asked one of the gathered peasants. “The pictures with the words on top and bottom.”
“Yes, that was I,” announced the lady, clearly proud of the fact. “I assume this has already converted hundreds of you to my way of thinking as it is a fool-proof strategy in the year 2017.”
"The pictures on the bulletin board worked on me," admitted Maureen, fourth row middle of the isle, wearing a muddy potato sack. “I could only stomach half of my dog after seeing one of the pictures."
The lady looked towards the Mayor, “Wait, why are your people eating dogs?”
“Why are you eating your dogs, Maureen?” asked the Mayor, looking to get to the bottom of this case.
“The dog was organic if that makes a difference,” said Maureen.
“No,” said the lady. “No that does not make a difference.”
“Are cats OK to eat if your veganism?” another voice queried from the crowd. "I tend to eat cats."
“He really does eat a lot of cats,” added the Mayor.
"No. Why would cats be OK if dogs are not? Veganism is about not eating any meat at all thus making you a superior person," explained the woman.
"I don't understand," shouted a voice from the crowd.
"What part do you not understand?" asked the vegan lady.
The peasant woman in the crowd stood up, "I don't understand how not eating meat makes you a better person."
"Humans do not need to consume meat," explained the vegan lady. "And by not eating meat, animals get to live free from cages allowing people like me to feel smug and better than others."
"Can we eat animal if they are eating us?" asked the peasant lady who was still standing. "A bear stole my child. He knocked at door pretending to be kind neighbour. But it was all lie. A dirty bear lie."
"There's just no way that's true," said the woman on stage.
"I'm afraid it's true. It was easily a top 5 case of child being eaten by a cunning bear," said the Mayor, following up. "Some actually said top 3 but it was never agreed upon."
"Listen, we're getting off track here, the idea is to not eat any animals under any circumstance. That is what separates us vegans from those who are quite clearly below us."
"Are there any other ways we can feel superior to others while still eating meat?" asked the Mayor. "I just don't feel like veganism is going to work in this village."
The lady on stage began to pace, deep in thought. "The issue is, it's difficult to be smugger than being vegan but there is something else. By a show of hands, how many of you exercise?"
Around twenty hands went up in to the air.
"So about a quarter of you exercise. That's good. Now, how many of you make sure you tell others about your exercising?"
Every hand fell back down.
"You see," said the lady, "how do you expect to feel better than others if you're not obnoxiously showing everyone how much better than them you are?"
"My name Boris. I feel better after run," said Boris, shouting from the back.
"Come on up, Boris," said the vegan lady, with Boris obliging. "When did you go on your run?"
"Today," replied Boris.
"And how many people are aware you went on your run?"
"Zero."
"Boris, what is the point of improving yourself if you aren't forcing it down the throats of people who aren't bothered? You’re missing a key element of being better than everyone else. Take this piece of paper and write 'Wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't get out and run every day. Attack the day!'"
Boris wrote the message.
"Now pin it to that wall over there."
Boris walked over to the wall in the hall next to the stage and pinned up the message.
"Everyone look at that message," shouted the lady.
Everyone turned to view the message.
"Now, Boris, how do you feel knowing all of these people now know you went on your run?"
Boris looked at the crowd viewing his message, "It makes me feel above them."
"That's it!" shouted the lady, "This is what I'm telling you. It's not the exercise, the unwillingness to eat meat, or the genuine efforts to improve yourself that's important; it's letting other people know you’re better than them that is the key."
"I get it!" shouted a familiar voice from the crowd. "So all I have to do is let other people know I have eaten their dog."
****
I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement. | It was hopeless. It took her years of painstaking advancement through social ranks, starting with little more than a village idiot, of taking three steps forward and two back, of cracking one glass ceiling after another just to arrange this meeting, yet only one of the assembled feudal lords was listening and even his comprehension lefty much to be desired. Others were busy drinking, trying to feel up the maids or in one case furiously hollowing a piece of wood with a knife.
“So… you are saying this im.. imm.. immunizations can stave off another plague?” The lord sitting on her left asked, struggling with unfamiliar word.
“Loads of poppycock!” Interjected his peer opposite ”I wouldn't be surprised if those caused children to be born cretins!”
She threw a murderous glance towards the interloper, and sweet as before, returned to her target, desperately vying for an analogy he would comprehend.
“Imagine, that you have captured some warriors from a vanguard of an army invading from the east. They have weapons and armour like you have never seen before. Would you rather set them free, kill them, or put them in an arena to fight against your champions?” he was definitely interested now “It would be a risk for your soldiers, but your army would know what to expect, and how to fight a new enemy.”
His eyes lit up in comprehension.
“If you…”
But he wasn't given a chance to finish as a small projectile embedded itself in his neck. He stood up, nearly toppling the table. Bellowing in rage he reached for a dagger.
“Easy, brother, easy.” Laughed the man previously busy carving. “I have done that for your own good. See, as Elizabeth the Seer teaches, small portions of poison teach your body how to deal with real disease. So I've decided to immunize you against crossbow bolts.” He waved a miniature crossbow, he made just moments ago. “I reckon, that by the end of the month I should be able to shoot you with a proper bolt. Next month an iron tipped, and next year a ballista.”
The assembly erupted in a wave of laughter, and she knew all her work was for nothing. Sobbing, she ran out and didn't stop until she reached one of the huge iron pillars, surrounded by a sea of twisted, rusting wreckage.
She started crying openly, not only because of her failure, but because of what all of humanity lost in just a couple of centuries. She looked around, the ancient capital lain in ruins, magnificent buildings crumbled and replaced by wooden structures, overflowing Seine turning the terrain back into swampland. Only the ancient churches stood tall and proud, creating a painful dissonance with what was left of the pinnacle of human achievement.
****
High above an alien appendage relaxed and left the immediate vicinity of a kinetic strike activator. The ship's leader, who watched everything unfold through the eyes of a myriad of minuscule robots mimicking insects, wiped a sticky tear-analogue from his face; he genuinely felt for Elizabeth, and although he would cause her even more suffering before his mission was over, his soul shattered into a billion bruised pieces every time he had to cause harm.
He said a quick prayer to the Gods, both his and human, thanking for sparing what used to be Ile de France, back when he arrived for his scheduled rotation as mission coordinator. He sensed his crew's impatience, and began to issue orders in a soft and explanatory manner characteristic of his species.
“It went better than we could expect, but get the robots to apply a topical poison to the exact area where the projectile struck Lord Jean. Something that would make him rot alive, or maybe just bled out. They will be shocked, but they will only blame Elizabeth and her ideas.”
He paused, reminiscing how easy was to collapse the human civilization. No physical contact. No weapons. Just memetic viruses. Vaccines cause autism. Earth is flat. Jews are behind it. Jet fuel…
“Activate protection protocols on Elizabeth and all the others. Maximum prejudice, no need to stay secret. Before the year passes, she will be reviled as a witch, and all her ideas banned, our sage will be just like Baba Yaga from previous iteration. But for that we will have to keep her safe, and make sure she takes her medication.”
He wondered, what was she thinking, when one beautiful day she stopped aging, and even regained perfect health, while civilization crumbled all around. “I'm sorry…” he whispered.
“Now, please take us over Mr Harrison, and please prepare those angelic apparitions…”
| 2017-09-14T11:44:45 | 2017-09-14T06:09:16 | 287 | 20 |
[WP] One day everyone notices the words "Human Update 1.1 progress 1%" in the corner of their eye. | Human v1.1 Patch Notes
* Fixed an issue where eyes can become desynced from the balancing system, causing locomotion problems.
* Corrected a race condition that could cause speech to begin before the thought process for that speech had exited cleanly.
* Fixed a bug in the low level logic engine that caused some versions of the Human to not recognize other versions of Human as valid communication and cooperation targets. This problem was mostly an issue when Humans from different regions were in the same area.
* Corrected a very prevalent problem that would cause one hand to be vastly more dexterous than the other. Due to legacy issues previously manufactured Humans will not benefit from this change, but all new Humans created by Humans with this update installed will.
* Corrected some behavior in the immune system firmware that was causing unreasonable reactions to very minor pathogens, causing damage to the throat, eyes, and sinuses.
* Fixed an issue where the eyes would be delayed in adjusting to light levels, causing pain and short term damage when moving from very dark areas to very bright areas. This issue was most prevalent after waking from sleep.
* Increased the precision of the limb motion and awareness subsystems. This should help avoid toes and knees colliding with objects while walking, and hands and elbow hitting objects while moving the arms.
* Optimized the digestion routines to more accurately determine when enough food had been eaten, this should cut down on the amount of food consumed by about 20%.
* Corrected an issue that was causing sweet beverages to be favored heavily. A much wider variety of beverages should now be equally as appealing.
* Removed unused drivers for the appendix, as the hardware is no longer used in any current production model of Human.
* Increased the timing accuracy on the circulatory system, which should increase the time the heart can be in High Performance mode before the oxygen supply is exhausted and a rest cycle must start.
* Optimized the utilization patterns of the muscles in the upper body of the female variant of Human, which should result in increased upper body strength when apply torque to things such as jars and bottle tops.
* Corrected a volume equalization issue that was causing some female speech to be ignored by the speech processing hardware. This issue mostly affected the male variant of Human, and became most pronounced in models with the marriage subsystem active.
* Added some debugging functions and logging systems to make future versions of the Human firmware easier to test and deploy
Thank you for updating! | Everyone panicked. But then we realized. It had taken thousands upon thousands of generations to make 1% of the update. The rest would most likely not come in our lifetimes, nor in our descendants', or in their descendants'.
God gleefully cheered. "I can't believe it's updating! Stupid Comcast lost all my packets, but this time, it's gonna work for sure!"
The next day, everybody noticed the words, "Human Update 1.1 progress 3%" in the corner of their eyes. | 2015-03-04T17:27:53 | 2015-03-04T16:33:29 | 519 | 123 |
[WP] The US in the year 2050. Every citizen (except the rich) must serve a mandatory month in prison, in order to recompense for crimes they must've committed but that Police failed to discover. | There was a knock at the door. It was six in the morning. Ben jumped out of bed with the jolt of adrenaline that comes from waking suddenly. He fumbled with his pants and an old t-shirt. He opened the door a few inches. A man stood with his face close to the opening.
"Ben Marduski?" the man said. "That you?"
"Uh, yeah," Ben said. His mouth was dry.
"And is that your red Pontiac Gran Prix out front?" the man continued.
"Mmmhmm." Ben mumbled. He pressed his palms against his closed eyes for a moment. "Can I help you with something?"
The man pressed his face in a little closer, spoke a little more gruffly."Are you aware, sir, that your state inspection sticker has expired?"
Ben opened up the door a little wider "Who are you? What do you..."
In an instant the man lunged forward, forcing the door back and knocking Ben to the ground. "Get on your stomach! Get on your stomach! Now!" the man commanded, as ten or so police officers came barreling through the door, their guns drawn. Ben tried to roll over, but the man was still pressing against his chest. "Sir, I'm not going to ask you again. Roll onto your stomach now!"
"Okay!" Ben heaved. "I want to! I want to! Just let off a little!"
The officer let up pressure on his chest, and Ben rolled onto his stomach.The officer gruffly grabbed his arms and began to cuff him. "Ben Marduski," he began, "you're under arrest for the trafficking of narcotics. You have the right to remain silent..."
"No wait, this is a mistake!" Ben shouted.
The officer continued uninterrupted with his Miranda rights "..used against you in a court of law. You have the..."
"Stop!" Ben shouted. "This has already been taken care of!"
"Do you understand these rights..."
"Enough!"
"Let's stand up, Mr. Marduski." The officer said, pulling Ben up by the arm. "Would you like to make a statement?"
"Jesus! Yes! I just got out of jail. I just did my month. I haven't had any contact with any dealers since last year. That was all before. I've done my time."
"A Mr. Blake Cuomo, currently facing three years for dealing, has named you as his distributor. Are you corroborating Mr. Cuomo's statement?"
"Uh...yes. I mean, I did that for a while. I stopped last March, after my kid was born. Did Blake tell you that?"
"He did, Mr. Marduski."
"Then why are you arresting me? I told you I just did my month, which, by the way, I could've afforded to skip if I'd still been selling. I did my time. I'm clear."
"Just so we both understand what you're saying," the officer said slowly, with a bit of a smirk, "you corroborating Mr. Cuomo's statement and admit to trafficking in narcotics, under no duress or coercion. Correct?"
"Yes." Ben said, exasperated. "Up until last March. But then I did my month. You can't arrest me for it now. That's double Jeopardy."
The officer looked at Ben a moment without saying anything. Ben couldn't decide if it was pity or smug condescension he read on the officer's face.
"Mr. Marduski, is your family home?" he asked. "Is your wife here?"
"No," Ben replied, "she's at her mom's til Thursday. But my son is here."
"Is there anyone you'd like to call to come get him before we take you in?"
Ben was shocked. "I...what do you mean? Why are you taking me in? I just told you everything."
"Unfortunately, Mr. Marduski, the language of the Bruce P. Walters Civil Confinement Agreement is what you might call a little, well, loose."
Ben's mouth went a little drier as the officer continued. "What that means for you, right now, is that the mandatory one month sentence, for those who elect to serve it in lieu of payment, applies, can only apply, to crimes of which the police are and remain...and that's the key word here, Mr. Marduski, 'remain,'...unaware. You have admitted to trafficking in narcotics, a crime that carries a mandatory minimum of 10 years in a federal penitentiary."
Ben was aghast. And he was suddenly full of rage. "That's some fucking technicality!" he bellowed, and chafed against his handcuffs. "So what's the point of this law, huh? What is it? What did I do this time for, a month away from my wife and kid, so that you motherfuckers could come and arrest me anyway? Huh? What did I sit in that cell for!? What did I pay for!?"
"That, Mr. Marduski," the officer said calmly, "is between you and your conscience." He forced Ben to the couch with a rough shove. "Now, can your wife be home within the hour?"
| "Hey." Jeff answered the phone on the third ring, just as Lacy was beginning to think she'd wasted her weekly call again.
"Hey, baby," she giggled in relief.
"Sup?" In the background she could hear the laser blasts and explosions of his favorite immersive, *Atlas Rising*.
Lacy paused, trying to find something to say. Should she tell him about her cellie, Margarite, who was on her second stint so her younger sister could skip her turn and stay in college? Should she bring up the incredibly unhappy Britanya, the recent divorcee whose millionaire ex-husband had managed to delay his alimony payment just long enough that she couldn't pay off the Lifetime Accrued Crime Tax? What about Becca who had lost her three kids to Child Services because there'd been no one to care for them when her LACT was due?
"Fuck! Fuck that little money grubbing...Not you," Jeff said.
"How's the game?" Lacy asked, lamely trying to fill the five minutes of phone time she had remaining.
"They just opened our league to free registered players. It's flooded with all these stupid, poor assholes who don't even know how to play. They just run through, spray and pray. Muther-fucks. Got no gear, got no assistants. Fuck..." He trailed off and Lacy could hear the soft scrape of his movements and his muffled breathing. He was stealthing.
She held her breath, studied the hand on the ancient analog clock. Two minutes left.
"Jeff?" she whispered.
There was a rattle of gunfire. Jeff screamed and she could hear the pulsing alarm indicating he'd been killed.
"What?" he growled.
"So when are you going? I could give you some pointers," She tried to sound light, encouraging. "It's not that bad."
"Yeah, I'm not going, babe." The sounds of *Atlas* died away as he disconnected his feed. "My mom talked my dad into paying off the LACT." His voice rose to match his mother's shrill tone, "Carl, we simply cannot have a felon in the family. What will the neighbors think? Besides it will cost more to get the conviction expunged than it would to pay the damn fine. Give the government their due."
"Oh...that's fantastic!" Lacy said. Somehow she felt like he'd taken a huge step away from her. *We'll work it out when I get home.* Only two more weeks.
"Yeah, listen, Lace. You're gonna need to find another pad when our lease is up."
"What?"
"Yeah. Thing is my mom's right. I mean, you're a felon now. I can't live with you. It'll put me on the Watch List as a sympathizer. Don't worry, though, we can still see each other..." His voice dropped. "You know, spend the night."
"So I'd be your little felon fuck-buddy?" Lacy kept her tone playful. She squeezed her fist so tightly the nails drew blood from her palms.
"Sexy! I could search you for contraband."
Lacy took a deep breath. "Jeff, fuck you. Fuck you, fuck your family, fuck all your rich entitled friends. You all deserve each other." She slammed the phone down so hard it bounced out of the cradle as she stalked away.
She felt more free than she ever had on the outside. She didn't need Jeff or anyone like him.
Two weeks later they stamped her papers and let her out into the world. The first thing she did was download a pirated copy of *Atlas Rising*. She created an assassin named "Jeffsabitch" and went hunting for some rich game. | 2014-07-22T11:31:49 | 2014-07-22T11:20:26 | 26 | 10 |
[WP] Your childhood bully once said you were nobody. Unbeknownst to him at the time, he had a reality-bending superpower. Now he's the world's strongest superhero, everyone calls him The Truth, because his word is the absolute truth... Nobody knows about his past, and Nobody will make him pay. | "Hey hey hey! Look who it is... the good ol'' truth" I walked forwards flamboyantly.
Samuel looked at me puzzlingly "Do I know you?" he asks, innocently enough. "Maybe, who knows. But I know you... Samuel."
"How do you know that name?" He shouts, seemingly with confusion, but undertoned also with the raw anger that comes out of the tantrum a baby makes when you first tell them no. You see, Samuel was no ordinary person. Samuel was the truth, and the absolute truth. He could've ruled the world, really. Thankfully he remains as smart as he was when he was but a child. Not smart at all. His superpower gives him full rein over the world and reality itself. If he says something that would be false, the world shifts and changes, throughout time, throughout space. Everything changes to fit his word.
If you, reader, were born with an intelligence greater than that of an ape, surely you could see the power he holds. And yet, he merely chooses to be some superhero vigilante, stopping crime in one city, in one country, in one continent. This specific part of the world, a mere city. He could say the word and create A universe. God took 7 days to create the universe. He could do it with the flick of a tongue.
But there's been a story going around... a legend of old, one lost to the ages... at least that's what I've been telling people. In reality it happened 30 years ago. You see, Samuel was not one to lie much as a child, but for his innocence in one aspect, came a sinister sadism.
Sadie was a happy girl, really. Living a simple life, enjoying her childhood. Unfortunately enough for her, she would soon feel Samuel's wrath.
After a terrible year of having her mind and soul thoroughly broken, Sadie would receive her greatest... gift, surprisingly, from her tormentor. Samuel would utter the simple phrase "You're nobody, Sadie."
In the exhalation of that breath, Samuel had finally done it. He'd not only broken Sadie's mind and soul, but also her reality.
Sadie. No, Not Sadie. The existence of Sadie had been broken, and like a phoenix from the ashes of this damned existence, Nobody was born.
Nobody is truly good, and Nobody is truly evil. Nobody knows everything, and Nobody is above the law. Nobody is stronger than The Truth.
"You're scared... aren't you Samuel?" Nobody muttered. "Because Nobody knows The Truth's past... And Nobody will make him pay."
Pardon my rudeness dear reader, I forgot to introduce myself. The name's Sadie, but you don't really have to mind me, I'm nobody. | [POEM]
My childhood was rough, everyone was tough,
I got picked on by most of the crew.
And then there was Bobby, who made it his hobby,
To call me nobody, till everyone knew.
Came adolesence, and its effervescence,
Dreams to each save the world.
Bobby the liar, rose higher and higher,
Stepping on those who'd be ruled.
Now that he's older, he's gotten much bolder,
He hides it, acting with couth.
Deep down he's real bad, the whole world has been had,
The fools, they call him: The Truth.
Well, Nobody's my name, and i know the game,
I am best at giving other's glory.
To make it go faster, i'll call him my master,
Eventually, i'll share my story.
Right now i'm his fan, doing all that i can,
All the while, always recording.
The end of the race, will be on his face,
Oh, will that be rewarding. | 2021-11-23T07:57:35 | 2021-11-23T07:52:09 | 57 | 12 |
[WP] A local bartender regularly willingly hosts monsters and demons in his bar. When terrorists kidnap his children they learn the hard way how close he is to them. | Slow jazz music played in the background as the ice cubes clinked into the scotch glass. Turning around and pulling a bottle from the shelf, he uncapped the bottle of amber liquid and poured with a practiced flourish. Jay slid the glass over to the man in the pinstripe two-piece suit, speaking in his soft baritone voice. “Knob Creek, on the rocks.” Asmodeus nodded appreciatively, tucking his long silver hair behind his ears as he reached for the glass with a pale, slender hand.
The copper bell that hung above the old wooden door rang as another customer strolled into the bar. Pulling off her shawl and her wide-rimmed pointed hat, she hung them on the coat stand before striding up to the bar counter. Her thin wrist twitched slightly, and the stool next to Asmodeus floated effortlessly through the air as she glided over to it. Taking a seat, she turned to Jay. “The usual, please,” she spoke, her voice clear and calm, a natural trait after years of chanting incantations. Jay pulled a hurricane glass from the shelf and began mixing her drink.
She nodded towards Asmodeus as a way of greeting. He put the glass down, the ice rattling against the walls of the scotch glass. His voice was enchantingly silky. “Evening, Witch. Didn’t expect to see you here so soon. I assume the gardens fare well?”
“Well enough for me to take a break,” she said, laughing lightly. “The mandrakes haven’t started screaming yet, so I’m here before things *really* get chaotic.”
Asmodeus’ thin lips curled into a smile. “Thank you in advance. I’m sure I’ll end up buying from you this harvest. Hell can’t grow alchemic herbs like the Gardens of Lieze can.”
The Witch nodded appreciatively, the shimmering silver cocktail floating off the bar counter in front of her. A moment later, the door was flung open, a wave of heat sweeping through the bar. The atmosphere was suffocating, and a bead of sweat dripped down Asmodeus’ face.
The Witch and the Archdevil both frowned slightly, but before they could raise their voices, Jay looked up from the glass he was polishing, and stared straight at the door. “Balrog, what have I said about your form when you enter the bar?” he said quietly, his deep voice calm and even.
The vague sound of a sigh came from the monstrous, flaming silhouette that was too big to fit through the door. “God dammit,” it swore. “Sorry Jay, I keep forgetting. Too used to the other one, y’know?”
The shadowy mass of billowing flames condensed into a bulky, broad-chested man dressed in a maroon blazer and jet-black pants. He swaggered up to the bar counter, pulling a stool out before hopping on adroitly, in spite of his huge frame.
“I’ll have one of those fruit beers, Jay,” he said, plonking his large arms down onto the bar counter. A few moments later, a champagne flute filled to the brim with a pink, bubbly liquid was set in front of him. He sipped at it, and smacked his lips in satisfaction. “Strawberry. You always have good stuff, don’t you Jay?”
The bartender shrugged and smiled. “Can’t attract good customers without good alcohol, can you?” Balrog let out a hearty laugh and roared in agreement, attracting glares from Asmodeus and the Witch. He blinked in surprise.
“Hey, didn’t see the two of you there!” he said, laughing boisterously as he reached out to slap Asmodeus on the back. The shadows around Asmodeus coalesced and became solid, blocking the Balrog’s massive palm from making contact. “I appreciate the sentiment, Balrog, but please, try not to break my bones. And would it kill you to have a little situational awareness?” Asmodeus said, his tone frosty. The Witch nodded quietly in agreement. Balrog chuckled apologetically at his two companions, and went back to nursing his drink. For a moment, all was peaceful in the Blue Moon.
Jay slid his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. “Sorry, I’ve got to take this one. Be back in a moment,” he said, before disappearing out of the back door. Five minutes later, he walked back in, his face ashen. “I’m sorry, but I’m closing for the night,” he said, his voice quavering slightly.
“Did something happen, Jay?” the Witch asked, setting down her now-empty glass onto the bar counter. “None of us mind leaving, I’m sure, but if it’s something we can help with…” Her voice trailed off as she turned to glance at Balrog and Asmodeus. The two men nodded in assent.
“No other bar’s gonna let me in, Jay,” Balrog whined. “If it’ll stop you from closing, I’ll do anything!”
Asmodeus sipped the last of his drink, gently placing his glass onto the mahogany counter. “Hell doesn’t have any bars quite like this one. Where else am I going to get a decent glass of whisky from?” he said, his voice smooth and soothing.
The Witch smiled encouragingly at the bartender. Jay stood there for a moment, unsure of how to react. It *was* a problem that they could help solve, but would it be right? He gritted his teeth. These were his regulars. They’d been in and out of his bar for years now, and he knew all of them by name, knew where they lived- even if he had no idea where *exactly* the Second Circle of Hell was- and knew of their triumphs and troubles. Even if it was with supernatural beings, friendship *was* friendship.
He sighed, and leaned against the bar counter. “They took my daughter, Ashley. Terrorists. Kidnapped her and took her hostage, along with an entire bus full of other kids on their way back from a camp. The police just called, they’re asking for a ransom from the government, but I don’t know whether they’ll pay up. Is there anything you can do?” he asked, pleadingly, the words flowing from his mouth despite his usual reserved nature.
“Bastards,” Balrog spat emphatically, and began to stride out the door. “We’ll take care of the curs and bring back your daughter,” Asmodeus placated, before turning to the Witch. “Can you cast a tracking spell?” he asked her. The Witch conjured a pipe from thin air, puffing on it once. The smoke trailed through the air before forming an arrow. “Let’s go,” she said, before the three of them vanished in a flash of bright, white light.
Not fifteen minutes later, the trio returned to the bar, the Witch carrying a girl with long, brown hair in her arms. As they stepped towards the bar, the girl jumped out of the Witch’s arms and bounded up the stairs that led to the Blue Moon. “Daddy!” she cried out, leaping into Jay’s open arms as he pulled her into a tight hug.
“Were you scared?” Jay asked her. “No, Daddy, you always told me that you’d protect me, so I wasn’t scared!” she said, beaming at Jay. “But Daddy, who are the pretty lady and the two men? Your customers?” she asked, inquisitively.
“Ashley, I think it’s time you met my friends,” Jay said, looking up at the three smiling figures standing in front of him.
| Theodore, Eoghan and Meph stared at the ransom note left by the bar.
It was glued on in single letters, to a single matte sheet of paper. *We have your number, and your children. You will be contacted about the location of the drop. We require $20 million in non-sequential, non-scented, unmarked bills.*
Meph looked at his close friend and bartender Theodore. He knew he was in pain, and had to rein in his tomentor nature. "You know what? We're gonna sort this for you, right?" He snorted, a small belch of sulfurous flame leaving his nostrils.
Eoghan shook his head, not in disagreement, but to clear something out of his mind. As an avatar of change and the greatest disciple of Eris, he had to do that a lot. "Aye, wee laddie," Eoghan spoke, a thick, deep Irish voice rang out. "I'll get me axe out for ye, and go a-choppin' with me friends. We'll get ye' childers out o'there."
Theodore brought them in for an embrace. "Thank you." He spoke with a bitterness and upwelling of joy that would instantly break the Bartender's Code if it ever got out. "I don't deserve you guys!"
Both Eoghan and Meph shook their heads. Meph spoke before Eoghan could get a word in sideways. "Nonsense! Who was it who helped me out when I had that cataclysmic falling-out with Lilith? And who helped Eoghan recover his dark axe, the Sender?
"It was you, with your calm words, and stoic resolution, and the positive advice you gave. If we didn't help *you* in your hour of need, then we'd never get to live it down! We know who you serve here, and it's not the heroes and the investigators. You serve the bad guys. You let us in, even though you know we could turn to to ash simply by blinking wrongly at you."
"You need us, so it's *our* turn to help *you*. Muahaha. MUAHAHA! **MUAHAHAHAHAHA!!!** ...I'll stop now." Eoghan, in answer, clapped Theodore on the back of his shoulder, hefted his black axe, the the three left.
/ / / / / / /
The drop point was under the fountain in Picadilly Gardens in nearby Manchester. Meph and Eoghan were waiting, to see who came to pick up the case.
In the surrounding area were three gargoyles, two Frankensteins, seventeen lesser Devils and three Byakhees. Meph a was little surprised at the byakhees, seeing as they had been under contract to other people right at that point.
Everyone held their breath, as three small figures, wrapped in full Islamic dress, started looking around furtively, approaching from the bus station just to the side of the Gardens. They stopped, looked at each other, and tensed.
Eoghan opened his eyes at that point and spoke a single word. "*Chaos.*"
Everything happened at once and struck. The three figures were frozen in horror and terror. They may have been used to the recent lifting of the Veil, but not even hardened investigators would want to come up against such a horde.
The three people lay down, completely prostrate. Theodore approached from the Arndale Centre tram stop, and approached the fountain. There was a sense of unease spreading across the Gardens, as clearly Something Spooky was going on.
Theodore approached the three figures, before unceremoniously ripping the headscarves off of them. To the surprise of most of the demons and monsters, it was Theodore's three children, Emilia, Marcus and young but tall Uphemia. Theodore held his fingers, massaging his nasal sinuses. Eoghan literally howled with laughter. Meph just grinned, an aura of flames rippling in time with Eoghan's laughter.
"....and *why*, children, did you think it was a good idea to do this?" Theodore spoke, his mouth set in a grim line and frowning. His children just looked at him, confusion abound.
Marcus spoke first, his voice belying his actual age of 25. "Well, Dad, we just wanted to meet the ghuys you serve! And, seeing as you're working such long hours, and you won't let us in the bar..." Marcus' voice trailed off as his hands shished about expressively, gesturing to the scene. The young women nodded in agreement. "You always tell us the stories, but you never let us *meet* them."
Eoghan was rolling around on ther floor, hooting like a dying ass. Even the monstrous gargoyles held theselves with difficulty, trying not to show teeth. Meph just looked at Marcus, and marcus began to blush, his long, dyed-blue hair shifting about in the soft winds.
Meph stepped over to Marcus, and offered his hand. Theodore couldn't continue to look stern in the face of such a thing. So, he offered his hands to his daughters, and pulled them up off the floor.
Theodore walkd off, his arms around the children. Meph walked alongside them and Eoghan was left with the case. "So, what was in the case, dear Marcus?" was heard as the group walked away.
This went down in the history of the Blacik Sheep as *The night the kids ran away and became their own terrorists.* | 2018-01-31T06:28:20 | 2018-01-31T05:07:27 | 2,402 | 86 |
[WP] Superheroes lie about their powers to protect themselves; some speedsters are actually just able to teleport, and some people with super-strength can just cancel gravity to make things lighter. You're trying to come up with a plausible lie for your powers. | Strength and Speed are easy to lie about, but you aren’t that lucky. Ironically, you are the one super hero who hasn’t been allowed to go public with your abilities, but it isn’t your fault it’s your stupid idiotic abilities fault.
You have to find a plausible explanation for your ability that can be used as a cover story.
It is the first tenet to protect yourself against the true enemy.
Lady Harmonica.
Don’t let her name fool you, because she is the one that every super hero fears, with a single passing of her hand, she is able to completely destroy her opponents, using her power. Which everyone knows all too well.
It had happened years ago, when Captain Invincible had been the world's most famous hero.
He was said to be unbeatable. It didn’t matter what your power was, because he was invincible. This isn’t some lame ‘trappable’ invincible either. If something resisted his movements, it would simply crumble away.
People had originally tried fighting him with guns and bullets. But they hadn’t worked at all. Ironically, darts and stones had the greatest effect. Their small size and low slow movement, didn’t do much but he at least seemed to feel them.
Eventually people had discovered that something big and slow would work best on him, and so they turned to dropping large objects on him to trap him. However, they would just crumble away, allowing him to walk straight through them.
His power was particularly gruesome when anyone tried to hit him with something living, watching flesh melt away was not something that did good for the average person.
When he was alive, no villain had dared to challenge him.
Until Lady Harmonica, the songstress of death.
She could use her voice to completely dissolve any specific thing, including super hero abilities. There was one catch, she needed to know what their power was in order to destroy it.
Now there was you, the next great hope of humanity. Your power had been estimated to be equal to or greater than Captain Invincibles power, and it had been kept an absolute secret.
You were the luckiest person on the earth. Ironically.
That was, of course, the problem. It was patently obvious that your power was exactly what it sounded like.
One time you had been walking down the street and a gang of criminals had almost run you over. Only to have an actual anvil fall on their heads, crushing them as flat as possible. The fact that someone had been raising an anvil into the air, and a real one at that, was so ludicrous that almost everyone there had realized what had happened in the instant.
If the company didn’t employ a fairly capable mind eraser, everyone would have been talking about it.
So now you are stuck.
Obviously, you couldn’t let anyone know what your power was, because then Lady Harmonica would be able to destroy your ability.
You just had to find a way to explain why random things would happen around you, and then you would be called the greatest hero in the world.
But how could you ever explain it? There really was no pattern to it, it was just random things that would happen without warning to protect you. There wasn’t anything to even explain them. The workers who had been raising the anvil into the air hadn’t even really known what they were doing.
The realization that your ability had drawn two men to a specific location to do a job that neither had been hired to do, and wasn’t actually supposed to happen, was just too much to deal with.
The worst part wasn’t that you had just been dumped with this ability, it was that you were stuck inside the compound until you did have a likely story.
“What do you think?” You look at the rooms only other occupant, it’s your handler and his job is to help you figure out what your cover should be.
“Only thing I can think of is that you have a tiny mind-controlling, time-traveling ally that is also invisible.” He leans his head back, both of you had been trying to figure this problem out for weeks now, and neither of you was getting out of the building until you had a solution. Of course, your handler's memory would be erased so he couldn’t remember what he was doing.
This was a part of his job, and he had learned to live with the fact that he spent long periods of time away from home, and he had massive holes in his memory. Apparently the plan had a one to one deal. For every day he lost, he had a day off. After this job, he was going to have years off.
He deserved them. Apparently, his little kid has now grown up quite a bit in the last couple of years.
You let your head thunk onto the table. It was the only thing either of you could think of.
Before you could react, the door flew open and a man burst into the room. He was a little bald and definitely out of shape, but you recognized him as the one who would bring them food, books, or new games to play.
You hate playing games now.
“Lady Harmonica is attacking the train station. The higher ups are tired of waiting, and they think this is your best bet at taking her out. You up for it new guy?”
Your handler looks at the guy, with an annoyed expression, “Isn’t that a bit reckless?”
“Yes, but they think that she can’t know what his power is, so it’s a good chance that he can take her down. Once she is out of the picture, we don’t need to worry about someone finding out his power.”
“That is ridiculous, there is no way to guarantee that there will never be another person with this power.”
“Kid, it’s risky, but it will get you out of the room, what do you think?” | # Soulmage
**"So... what can you do, power-wise?"** Tanryn gave me a curious look as I paced the vault-room floor.
I looked up, scowling. "Why do you want to know?"
Tanryn gestured at the sealed vault, at the horde of clockwork abominations outside, and said, "You're so confident that you can get us out of here alive," she said calmly. "I still think you're insane if you think you can fight your way through that crowd, and I've made my peace with dying here. But you clearly think otherwise, so... what've you got up your sleeves?"
I gave her a long, considering look. As much as I wished to share the true nature of what I could do with her... no. The knowledge of what I could do—of *how* I could do it—was too dangerous to speak aloud. I was already being hounded by at least one powerful faction for what I knew. I didn't need that knowledge to spread around.
So I lied. "I can make rifts," I said. "I'll pry open a portal back to realspace. Take us back home. No need to fight anyone."
Tanryn pressed her lips together in displeasure. "If you say so," she said.
I sighed. At least she believed me when I said that. Because the true scope of my abilities was much, much more terrifying.
I didn't have the power to open rifts.
I had the power to *give myself more powers.*
If I wanted to open a rift back home, all I had to do was add it to the list of abilities I was attuned to.
Of course, it wasn't as easy as snapping my fingers and willing it to be done. If it was, I would have become an omnipotent god-king a long, long time ago. No, I had to be in the right mental and emotional state if I wanted to attune myself to a new ability. And right now, that meant closing my eyes, calming down, and letting go of my insecurities.
The simple ones came first. Though the army of clockwork demons outside was terrifying, the bunker we were in was secure. There was no need to fear for my physical safety. I felt a burden leave me as my breathing slowed. I was getting closer to attunement. I could feel it.
The harder ones came next. I'd been matching wits against an opponent that wanted nothing more than to steal the secret of attuning new powers, and they had thoroughly outmaneuvered me at every opportunity they had. They'd been the one to trap me here, after all.
But they'd made one crucial mistake, and that was trying to trap a person who could create their own powers on the fly. I would overcome my enemies. I would adapt, and I would get out of here alive.
Another insecurity faded, and I *felt* the attunement beginning to form. Like ink unfurling around my soul. There was one last anxiety, one darker and deeper than the rest, but I let it sleep. If all went well, I wouldn't need to go that far.
I opened my eyes, and was surprised to find that Tanryn had fallen asleep in the time I'd spent in meditation. With my new attunement, I could see currents of power bloom in her soul and mine, and I gathered that power into the palm of my hand.
Then I hurled it against the fabric of reality, and a rift began to claw itself open.
To the outside world, it would seem as though my power was to open rifts.
And only I knew better.
A.N.
Soulmage will be episodically updated. Want to know what happens next? Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/) to be notified whenever a new part comes out, and check out r/bubblewriters for more stories by me. | 2022-06-06T10:54:40 | 2022-06-06T10:28:42 | 1,007 | 237 |
[WP] The very last Google search, ever. | Tim sat down at his cubical, ready to start developing a new feature to add to Google Chrome his team had just discussed in a meeting. Today was like any other day at Google; software development, meetings, etc. While programming can be a monotonous task, working for one of the largest tech companies does have its benefits. The office is more silent than usual today, Tim thought. He began typing a few lines of code when suddenly a commotion arose from across the room from some of the folks that monitor the Google search servers.
Tim, distracted by the noise, decided to walk over and see what the fuss was about.
"Did you try restarting the whole thing?" asked one of the engineers.
"Yes, nothing is working." replied the other.
A third chimed in, "Do we even know why the search servers went down? It's normal for one or two to drop in a day, but all of them? That's unheard of."
This is big, Tim thought. All of the Google search servers were down. Nothing appeared to be responding on the engineer's end. Maybe they had gotten attacked by some sort of virus. People around the world wouldn't be able to search for anything at the time being. Tim chuckled at the thought of how many programmers like himself rely on Google to look up difficult problems.
"Wait, look, one server managed to write something to the main log file before everything crashed. Let's see if it contains an error or something." The engineer opened the file up, a plain-text document containing lines upon lines of meaningless errors, warnings, status reports, and other nonsense about the servers. He scrolled to the bottom of the file. The last line was the following:
"Fatal exception: Integer overflow on variable 'searchCount'"
The engineers stared at the line, stunned.
"Soooo the variable we use to keep track of the number of searches got too large?"
"It appears that way... it's value can't exceed to two to the power of 64, and I guess we finally hit that number, causing the entire system to go down..."
"Well, is there any way to fix this?"
"Not without wiping the entire thing. We might as well call it Google Search 2.0 or something, since we'll have to start fresh from 0 searches."
Tim laughed at the thought of renaming the search feature to 2.0 and asked, "If we're starting new, what was the last search of 'Google Search 1.0' that caused the overflow, you know, just for fun?"
The engineer at the computer looked at the line above the error.
"Search #18,446,744,073,709,551,616 request: "how big is a 64 bit unsigned integer" | "what is sophilisim"
"what is solipsism"
"Gorgias of Leontini" "Descartes" "George Berkeley"
"why are we here"
"what is the meaning of life"
"42"
"HG2G"
"why don't I laugh anymore"
"what is depression"
"depression cures"
"depression treatments"
"anything to help with depression"
"make me laugh"
"make me smile"
"make me feel something"
"if there's only me and i'm not happy, what's the point"
"GODDAMNIT GOOGLE GIVE ME SOMETHING USEFLU"
"GODDAMNIT GOOGLE GIVE ME SOMETHING USEFUL"
"down the road not across the street"
"does drowning hurt"
"hanging"
"does hanging hurt"
"painless ways to die"
"painless ways to od"
"cupons for ambien"
"coupons for ambien" | 2015-07-22T08:23:13 | 2015-07-22T08:12:42 | 44 | 25 |
[WP] Every year, Santa Claus delivers millions of toys in exchange of cookies and Milk. Despite his sponsorship deals with Coca-Cola and other corporations, his toy factory isn't economically sustainable without underpaying his workforce. Finally, an elf does the math and realizes he's exploited. | **The House of Claus**
“Santa, the representatives of the North Pole Committee of Public Safety are outside. They say this is your last chance, or they will take the palace by force.”
The big red belly hung low over the rumbling fire place. Santa’s head was bowed but his eyes burned with intensity. Visible through the ornate windows behind him, a thick snow fell on thousands upon thousands of elves. Men, women, children – workers in tattered clothes, holding torches or crude homemade weapons. They took to the streets on December 1st, and now it’s December 22nd. The North Pole was crumbling. The status quo was breathing its last breath. Would it take Christmas down with it?
“Forty generations of Clauses have held the North Pole. Forty generations have kept this mindless rabble fed, clothed, and docile. Our annual contribution to the world has left us here in peace and solitude. Now they cry revolution, ancient wounds fester and spread…”
Santa turns his bright blue gaze to his sole remaining advisor: Matteo, the commander of a legion of Swiss Guards. One hundred of the deadliest fighters on planet Earth, the descendants of a gifted legion from a pope long lost to the dustbin of history. Personally loyal to Santa and sworn to protect him no matter what the cost.
They alone remained when Santa’s inner circle crumbled, when the revolutionaries broke into his Treasurer’s house and butchered him in his bed. After that, the rest of Santa’s lieutenants either threw in their lot with the rabble or fled the North Pole.
Ezekiel, Santa’s Minister of Merrymaking, tried to escape on a dogsled under cover of night. He was spotted by a group of revolutionary children, playing on the outskirts of town. They dragged him back to the city and were rewarded as heroes.
The revolutionaries constructed a scaffold below Santa’s palace, giving him the best view. Ezekiel was walked through the crowd and placed on the scaffold, a tight noose made of silver tinsel tied around his little elven neck.
At the massive double doors of Santa’s palace, five Swiss Guards were all that stood between revolution and the House of Claus. They watched the minister on the scaffold but dared not move. If the palace was breached, the revolution would be all but complete.
“Okay,” Santa said to Matteo. “Escort the Committee of Public Safety to the throne room.”
“Sir,” Matteo bowed, swept his cape off the stone floor and left the room. Santa went to his desk, scribbled a note and sealed it in an envelope. Hanging by the fire was a single stocking. He put the envelope in it.
Santa’s throne room was enormous, with two rows of massive ice pillars running the length of it, and Christmas trees in the most exquisite decorations interspersed between the pillars. Thick rugs and warm oil lamps balanced the solemnity of the space with coziness. Next to Santa’s throne was a small table. A plate of cookies and a glass of milk sat on it.
Gathered in the middle of the room were a dozen elves, of an average height of about four feet, dressed in tweed suits, with saggy hats and big, pointy ears. They chattered nervously. Their leader, Algar, was a grizzled elf with a long, black beard and beady eyes. He drew from his pipe and paced before the throne.
Suddenly his ears perked up. He looked to the edges of the room. Filing in from all sides were Swiss guards. The room fell silent. The elves looked about them, as the Swiss Guards formed a impenetrable wall.
“What is this?” Algar said. “You won’t intimidate us. If even a single hair on our heads was put out of place, the wrath of the people would tear all of you limb from limb.”
Santa walked into the room and stood before the throne.
“Santa,” Algar said, putting his pipe in his coat pocket.
“Algar.”
“Have you decided to accept our terms? The choice is simple. Accept that republican democracy has come to the North Pole, agree to form a Constitution and step aside, and your life will be spared. Refuse, and there is nothing more I can do for you. Not even as an old, old friend.”
Santa took a bite of a cookie. “Yes, I understand, Algar. I have made my choice.”
The elves stiffened. Algar didn’t draw a single breath as Santa paused, waiting. He sipped some milk.
“I choose,” Santa said quietly, “war.”
The Swiss guards drew their blades in unison; the sound of scraping steel filled the hall. The elves panicked and tried to run for the doors, but there was no escape. The Swiss guard commenced to slaughter them, down to the last elf.
Algar drew a knife from inside his coat and charged at Santa. Just before he could stick in Santa’s neck, the big man swatted him off his feet with a massive war hammer. Algar flew into a pillar. As he dropped to the ground, a Swiss guard impaled him on the end of a spear.
“Send them back to their friends,” Santa said.
Outside in the cold, snowy streets, the crowd burst with energy when they saw movement on Santa’s balcony. The big glass doors swung open. They saw Algar appear. They cheered. But then Algar did something strange – he leapt from the balcony. And then he fell into the crowd, landing right on top of a pack of massive coal miners. They saw that Algar was dead, speared through the chest.
As the angry cries rang out, the Swiss Guard threw open the doors of the palace and began firing the severed heads of the elves into the crowd. As the heads distracted the elves, horrified and sickened, the guards charged into the crowd in a phalanx formation, slaughtering at will.
The guards made it almost up the entire city block, as elves scattered in all directions, leaderless and afraid, before the revolutionaries could regroup.
But they had reinforcements.
A defected cavalry leader, waiting on a side street with fifty reindeer troops, sprang into action, defying his orders to wait until Algar gave the command. He charged into the crowd and saw the Swiss guard’s massacre. Sounding the triumphant battle horn, the reindeer charged the phalanx from the flank and shattered it.
The tide turned. The masses swelled and surged toward the palace. The Swiss guardsmen were overwhelmed, beaten down and torn limb from limb. Their heads were impaled on pikes and carried through the doors of the palace.
Santa, soaked in blood, war hammer in hand, fought for every inch of his palace. Matteo grabbed his arm as they backed up a spiral staircase, fighting off elves on every step.
“It has been an honor, Santa. I consider it a privilege to die by your side.”
“Die? No, Matteo. No—”
Just then an elf with a spear managed to strike Santa in the gut. The latest of many wounds, but it drew blood like it had struck oil. Matteo cut the elf in two and his body fell down the stairs. Matteo helped Santa into his study and barricaded the door.
Santa sat against the wall. “Matteo, listen. Take this.” Santa ripped a necklace off. It had a pendant on it, in the shape of a Santa hat. “This..”
“I know its power, Santa. Don’t.” But Santa forced it into Matteo’s hand.
The elves heaved themselves against the door. It shook. It wasn’t going to last long.
“Go, use it. Find her. It’s our only hope.”
“Who?”
The door cracked.
“It’s our only hope…”
“Who?!”
“My daughter. The last Claus.”
The door cracked again, big enough for the elves’ weapons to break through.
“Go!”
As the door fell, Matteo dove across the room and into the fireplace, amulet in hand. In a flash of smoke, he was gone.
The elves found Santa against the wall. He had driven a knife into his own heart. He was dead.
Out on the balcony, the elves produced Santa’s head. The crowds erupted in bloodthirsty cheers. Santa’s head bobbed and danced in the cold night air. The revolution was complete.
In Santa’s study, a young elf, his face covered in blood, a Swiss guard’s sword in his hand, inspected the mantel of Santa’s fireplace. He was Alcazar, Algar’s only surviving son. He was a leading candidate to be the new leader of the North Pole now that the entire Committee of Public Safety had been slaughtered.
Alcazar took the single stocking off the fireplace and found the envelope inside. He opened it and read the message scrawled in Santa’s hand: *The House of Claus will never fall.*
He crumpled it into a ball and hurled it into the fire.
At the same exact moment, thousands of miles away, on another continent entirely, Matteo tumbled out of a fireplace. | “No no no… this can’t be right,” Snowy said to himself. His typewriter clinged as he pushed the carriage back to the correct position. He ripped the paper off and stared intently at the maths.
“Carry the one, drop the decimal, divide by 9… By golly! We’re being exploited! I need to bring this up at our meeting tomorrow!” Snowy said. He slid the paper into his red and green striped sock before returning to his quarters. “
“One day off a year! And on Christmas Day for that fact! How could anyone ever believe that to be just!” He muttered to himself as he walked. He shook his head as he walked down the halls back to his quarters. Snowy barely caught a wink of sleep. Even with some special elven magic he was very restless for the night.
He awoke the next morning feeling exhausted. With a big yawn he tumbled out of bed.
“Are you okay?” His friend Mistletoe said as he helped him to his feet.
“I’m okay. Just missed my footing. That’s all. Did you sleep well?”
“Like a buttermilk broth over the fire! Warm and bubbly!” Mistletoe gleamed his white teeth almost brighter than the snow outside.
“I’m going to go get prepped for the meeting. See you later!” Snowy said. Before a reply came he hurried out of his sleeping quarters towards the conference hall. “Oh right! Breakfast!” Snowy shook his head as he high-tailed back the way he came. He could barely sit still as he practically inhaled the porridge they had been served.
“What’s got you in such a jumpy mood?” Mistletoe said to him as he sat next to him. “You ran off down the wrong passageway. Is something going on? Did you and Sugarplum finally hit it off?” He nudged him in the ribs.
“No no. Though I wish. But I discovered something life changing. Monumental even. Truly the greatest discovery of elv…”
“Okay… what?” Mistletoe said.
“Well… the math of our wages and days worked. It doesn’t add up. Getting one day off a year? It isn’t enough. We deserve more! I m going to bring it up today at the meeting.”
“Oh, alright. I hope that goes well!” Mistletoe said.
“You sound less than enthused?”
“Sorry. I just don’t have any complaints with our working hours. I won’t be at the meeting anyway. I have my own private meeting with Pepper Minstix during that time.” Mistletoe’s eyes scanned the crowd until they settled on an elf that he would describe as chiselled from the ice by Santa himself.
“Wow and you didn’t think to tell me until now?”
“Well you rushed off this morning and I didn’t want to get your hopes up.” Mistletoe shrugged. “It might not go anywhere anyway.”
The two continued to chatter and jeer each other as the mess hall slowly began to clear. Snowy thanked Mistletoe for the distraction as he left for the meeting. His footfalls thudding lightly in the snow as his hasty steps carried him down the halls. He rounded a corner and collided with another elf.
“Oh oh my. I’m so sorry,” he said as he tried to help pick up their papers.
“Oh is that you Snowy?” An elf by the name of Sugarplum said. She turned to face him as she pushed some stray hair from her face to behind her ear.
“Oh Sugarplum! I uh. I didn’t realise it was you. I was just umm on my way to the meeting,” Snowy said as he slowly circled around her.
“I’ve never seen you in such a rush before Snowy! Let’s walk together, I’m on my way there too! Is something the matter?” She held her papers to her chest and tilted her head slightly, eyeing off Snowy’s face.
“Uhhmm. Oh why not.” He went ahead and explained all his discoveries to her.
“Wow… just be careful. I’ve heard some elves are very resistant to change,” Sugarplum said. They arrived at the door to the hall. “Anyway. I’ll talk to you later,” she said with a wave of her hand.
“Oh yea. See you later!” Snowy took a seat in the hall and waited for the new topics part of the meeting.
“How interesting. And you say you discovered this yourself?” and elderly elf said from the front after Snowy had explained his case.
“Yes! And I have the proof right here.” He brandished the slip of paper with all his notes from within his sock.
“Oh excellent!” The elf grinned heartily. “Bring it up after the meeting. We shall discuss it together.” Snowy beamed brightly as he sat back down. He glanced across the audience to find Sugarplum looking at him two thumbs up. “Well done,” she mouthed. “I’ll wait for you outside.” Snowy nodded in response.
It felt like the rest of the meeting took an eternity to Snowy. He hurried to the front after the hall had cleared where the elderly elf stood waiting.
“Here’s the proof!” Snowy unfolded the paper and showed it to him.
“Is this all of it?” The elf said as he turned it over and eyed it suspiciously.
“That’s all!” Snowy said smiling widely.
“Excellent.” The elf blew a powder into Snowy’s face. Snowy started to sway as his vision blurred and his hearing deafened. “We wouldn’t want this little secret getting out now would we? The big man upstairs wouldn’t be pleased to have his workforce go on strike. At least you aren’t going to cause any trouble. Now.”
When Snowy came to, the stark white halls covered with reds, greens and golds had been replaced with a dark rocky cave. Water dripped from the ceiling and a low cloud of smoke wafted through the air. He coughed and spluttered as each breath brought more gunk into his lungs. He pushed himself up and slowly walked through the dark squinting to try and make out any shapes. Ahead he saw a faint glow and slowly edged towards it. From about a hundred metres away he realised it was a roaring fire and other elves were… feeding it. One looked up and saw him coming. They all slowly approached him, their frames barely that of a skeleton. Most had heavy bags under their eyes and chipped teeth. Their skin marked and blotched with blackness like one of those fancy puzzles we’d give to children some years.
“Looks like we have another rookie. Time to teach him the ropes.” One of the more elderly elves said as he spat onto the ground.
“Where… where am I?” Snowy said. His eyes were wide as the roar of the fire truly met his ears. It roared ravenously through the cavern.
“We’re the underbelly. The elves who were a bit too clever for our own good. You didn’t really think Santa’s workshop ran on magic? The elf said as he got a shovel-full of coal and hurled it into the fire. | 2021-12-11T08:16:55 | 2021-12-11T07:49:38 | 677 | 108 |
[WP] You have a distant uncle who seems to have an uncanny knack of giving you the exact birthday gift that you’d desperately need sometime during the next year. This year’s gift, however, is terrifying. | I always opened *his* gift first.
The typical size, I cannot say, simply because there wasn’t one. Each year was a brand new mystery, wrapped in unexceptional brown paper and fastened with white string.
They started coming when I started college, as soon as I was living on my own, once a year, at my doorstep by the crack of dawn. From a distant Uncle Lou that I vaguely remember meeting as a child.
At 19 years old, the gift box was thin and oblong. A single pencil, the common yellow, sharpened to a point. I’d tossed it into my bag and entirely forgotten about it. Until taking my final exams, when I had forgotten my pencil case. It had seemingly magically materialized.
At 21, I received a cube the width of my thumb. A steel marble, remarkably unremarkable. I’d left it near the front door, exactly where, six hours later, a burglar would step and slip with a resounding thud.
It was comparatively large at 24, containing a tall vase of tastefully chosen flowers. Slightly perturbed, I had centered it on my kitchen table. Two days later, it became the perfect gift for my best friend’s housewarming party, an event that had completely slipped my memory,
Each one was always completely and utterly random, and yet each happened to be exactly what I desperately needed.
This year, the box was about the length of my forearm and half as wide. I ripped it open eagerly, to find a gleaming dagger. I dropped the box.
Initially, I tried to make myself believe it was a cooking knife, but upon closer inspection, I realized that idea was nonsensical. The handle was of dark and rich leather, somehow molded perfectly to fit my hand. The blade itself was wickedly sharp, glinting in the morning light.
Well. Shit.
At first, I didn't go anywhere, the fear eating me alive. On the fourth day, a spike of bravery made me stroll down downtown for hours with no goal in particular, other than defiance, before coming to my senses and scurrying back to my apartment. After a few of these cycles, I simply evened out to a sense of permanent dread.
I got a job where I could work at home. Decidedly less salary, longer hours. I didn’t care. My grocery trips were weekly; I ventured out quickly and cautiously, the dagger nested in my bag.
I had to wrap it in cloth, as there was no scabbard. I don’t know why.
Soon, I received an invitation for my sister’s wedding, which was perhaps three hours by plane. In a moment of weakness, I booked a ticket, tired of my self-isolation and starved for human interaction. But in the end, my fear won, and I missed the flight.
Five hours later, the very plane I had almost boarded appeared in the news in a fiery wreckage - it had crashed, nose first, killing all passengers practically instantaneously.
I stared at the television for a solid hour, processing absolutely nothing. I felt relief. Obviously. But also confusion. How in the world would the dagger have helped?
It took me a while to figure it out.
The dagger was never meant to be used - its purpose was not to draw blood. It was to instill fear. For a physical gadget wouldn’t stop me from missing my flight, nor prevent the plane from crashing. But warning me that something bad was about to happen would ensure that I took any and all precautions.
How completely brilliant.
I phoned my mother later. She gave me a tearful greeting; she’d seen the news and feared for my safety. It took me a few minutes to console her.
“By the way, mom, could you please give me the number of my Uncle Lou? I have a couple of questions.” More than a couple.
There was a pause on the other end. “Who?”
\*Excuse any grammatical errors. | My uncle throughout all my life has always given me things that have unexpectedly been needed. Extinguishers, pepper-spray, and tools have been some of the items given to me, the items are always the exact thing I need when things go oh so desperately wrong.
This year my uncle has given me the most peculiar gift, a wooden puzzle box. The box itself was not the peculiar thing, it was what was inside. A simple silver ring with markings of an unknown language engraved on the inside.
I kept the ring with me at all times, my uncle always gave me gifts that would help me in my times in need. What would be different this time.
I think that I am finally figuring out what I will be needing the ring for, someone has been following me recently. It started with a figure in the corner of my eye, when I would look there would be no one. Maybe they want the ring from me? Maybe my uncle gave me something that he was not supposed to?
The person following me has been recently getting more bold, getting closer, moving my things. Lately, when I am asleep at night I would awake in cold sweats, the feeling of someone breathing would tickle the hairs on the back of my neck. I do not know how this mysterious stranger has been getting inside my house, I keep all of my windows and doors locked.
In the morning I would search my house for anything misplaced, anything stolen. But nothing was ever taken.
I don't know who this person is, but they scare me. I have been unable to sleep at night. The person has been touching my back in the middle of the night, I could feel their weight on my bed as they sat next to me. They would hum an indistinct tone as they caressed my body.
I clutch the ring tightly to my chest at these moments, praying that my uncle was right in his choice of gift.
I don't know what to do, the person is not stopping, not leaving.
I am going to confront them later tonight, in hopes that maybe I can finally make them stop. | 2020-06-23T21:07:39 | 2020-06-23T19:45:47 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] Your superpower is precisely and accurately measuring things without equipment. How do you use it to fight crime/take over the world?
You can tell that something weighs 155 mg just by holding it, or that a noise is 74 dB just by listening to it. You can immediately know it's 84.1 °F outside without a thermometer, or that someone is 70¾" tall without a tape measure. | (Kind of a cheat, but here we go!)
"How the hell did you get in here?" Dr. Hatred asked the man dressed in a 'Cool Runnings' t-shirt and jeans. The man was smiling, a sort of odd smile like he knew something that the other didn't.
"How did you get past my security?" The Doctor asked
"You mean your 143 guards? Or your 642 cameras? Or the 213 laser tripwires? Or the 67 armed drones patrolling the grounds of island here? Its a lovely place, isn't it? Stays around 78.3 with decent humidity year round, correct? I would kill for a place like this!"
"You'd have to if you wanted to take it from me..." the Doctor said, pressing a button to summon a henchman to his inner sanctum. "Speaking of killing someone, please try not to get blood everywhere when my men take care of you, I try to keep the place clean."
"I wouldn't worry about that. No one is coming. You have 0 henchmen now."
"Oh? Is that right?" He raised an eyebrow, his men would've been here by now so he was probably telling the truth... "Wait a second... you're that... fellow they call 'The Measure-er '
"Indeed I am."
"And how does someone who precisely and accurately measures things without equipment manage to do all this? Get past the best security systems that money can buy?"
"That's easy." He said with another big smile on his face, "The secret is: I've been guessing this whole time. I just happen to always be right."
"...what?"
"There are 0 desks in this room." And with that, the desk that the Doctor sat behind vanished without a trace with a small clap of air rushing to fill in the space where it was as well as the clamor of general desk accessories that fell to the floor.
"...huh...well..." The Doctor said, both amazed and terrified at the sudden disappearance of his desk.
"Next up I was thinking about accurately measuring how many broken bones Dr. Hatred has in his body."
"That won't be necessary, the Island is yours!" The Doctor got up from his chair and made his way out of the room,"I'll just grab my things and be out of your way!" He left without saying another word and ran as far away as he could.
"You do that." The Measure-er smiled and took the seat that the Doctor had vacated. He spun around a bit before saying, "There is 1 desk in this room."
A desk appeared before him. It wasn't the desk that Dr. Hatred had, it was a very plain and boring desk.
The Measure-er grumbled, "There is a better desk in this room." The man said, and another desk appeared, this time in the corner of the room. It was better, but not by much.
He sighed, "This might take awhile..." | "You're sure about this," the technician asks.
"The entire reason I was brought onto this team. You can do the math if you like, but it will take you a lot longer"
"Well you have a knack for this sort of thing, here it goes"
Yes, I can measure things perfectly making me a perfect rocket scientist, also the ultimate intruder. I am a double agent for both sides, Russia, and America and I just tilted the ship too much so that it will look like sabotage by the Russians. Tensions are already running high and I plan to keep it that way. When everyone trusts one person, he can rule the world.
"You're sure about this,"
"The entire reason I was brought onto this team. You can do the math if you like, but it will take you a lot longer"
"Well you have a knack for this sort of thing, here it goes"
Now I stand watching a Russian soldier input codes to deploy nukes into america, instead of the test site. Why have a team of scientist when one man who can measure the coordinates perfectly does all the work? Because a team of scientist would have noticed that the coordinates were located in Los Angeles on the other side of the world. | 2016-06-11T00:37:43 | 2016-06-10T22:46:51 | 106 | 12 |
[WP] No one in the galaxy ever assumed that Earth would amount to anything because of its extreme gravity for a life-bearing world - anything trying to escape the planet's gravity well would need to BE 97% fuel weight, and the idea that they would try was a ludicrous concept.
Repost, no one responded before.
EDIT: Thank you guys so much! I never expected something so small to turn great and take reddit by storm! But keep in mind, this wasn't me. I simply reposted. The real hero is a reddit user named AnCapGamer, the original creator of this prompt. | "Good for them," Zolforat commented as they observed humans farming the cradle of civilization. "Tools and agriculture? Why, they're looking positively sentient."
"Real moxy," Mefro, Zolforat's companion, agreed. "I can hardly understand how they manage to stand up like that!" It stamped its twelve hooves in emphasis. "And in *that* gravity? They're lucky to be more than a foot tall!"
Zolforat put the ship back into gear. "Real shame about them. If they ever had a chance to develop beyond simple tools, they might be quite interesting to meet." They zipped off toward their final destination and forgot about the rapidly-spinning blue planet in almost no time.
----------
"I say, *those* are the humans?" Zolforat gasped on the way toward refueling in the atmosphere of one of Jupiter's moons. Down on the surface, they observed a city of over a million right in the center of an oddly shaped peninsula. Boats of wood sailed the seas, and stone roads criss-crossed the continent. "Well I'll be damned! They developed this much in just a few thousand orbits?? Why, look at all that!"
"Stone buildings!" Mefro whispered, awestruck. "In *that* gravity? Can you imagine?"
Zolforat was astounded. "I know! But cheers to them for making it this far! Glad we got to see them at their peak!"
----------
"What in the... Mefro, you've got to see what they've done now!" The two had made quite the hobby of watching the poor backwards humans. It was inspiring, watching them try their hardest. But also depressing, knowing that they were trapped on that little rock for the rest of time. "They're using *steam* for power!"
Mefro seemed impressed. "Clever little devils! I kind of almost want to see them try to make it to orbit."
"Oh, don't say that," Zolforat chided his companion. "There isn't enough water on the planet to produce enough steam to make it into orbit. They wouldn't even hit the second atmosphere layer before plummeting back down. Poor little guys."
"I know," Mefro said. "You're right; I shouldn't have said that. I'm just proud of them for making it this far." The two had developed almost *paternal* feelings for the poor little human buggers.
"Farewell, humans!" Zolforat told them as the two went off on their way again. "What do you think, Mefro: will they have discovered electricity by the time we return?"
-------
Their ship hovered over the burnt remains of a city on an island in the little blue planet's largest ocean. Scanners confirmed what the two already feared: radioactive fallout. This had been a *nuclear* detonation. Surveillance video from the drone they'd left in orbit showed another chilling discovery: long-range rockets traveling a distance of over 200 miles, packed with explosives. It should have been impossible with that level of gravity, but the damned humans had done it. With just a little more power, one of those could break orbit! On the surface, *millions* upon *millions* of humans teemed on every continent, in unimaginable numbers. And it was getting more and more crowded by the second.
"Uh...." Zolforat finally managed to take four of his eyes off of the screen to look back at Mefro. "We... uh... we should probably tell someone about this."
----
If you liked this story, you should also subscribe to /r/Luna_Lovewell! | "*Who* did you say?" the old creature asked as he furrowed his brow and looked up from the growing pile of petitions.
"Humans. Third planet from the Sun. They've gone and escaped their atmosphere," the red face answered from a safe distance. The usual youthful exuberance was gone, replaced by a heavy sense of dread.
"After you said it was impossible?" He nodded timidly and together they peered at the dying blue planet and the swirling white clouds curling over islands and continents packed with billions of humans. Thousands of miles away, a small rocket hurtled through space, rushing towards the next inhabitable planet in search of life. "What are they capable of?" The old creature mumbled softly, as much to himself as to his companion, shuddering as he pondered the possibilities.
"A lot," his companion answered, grimacing in concern. "If they were able to make it out, they can do anything." He paused and frowned. "I... I really didn't think it was possible. I must have just made them too... I thought they were contained," he stammered apprehensively.
"What are they searching for?" The old creature asked, narrowing his eyes in fearful frustration.
"Life. They will always search for life." The two remained silent for a moment as they watched the probe travel unhindered towards the next inhabitable planet. "And if they find it, I think they'll want to destroy it," he added quietly, as if speaking too loudly might will the words to truth.
The old creature shook his head in resignation. "I should never have given you this task, Lucifer. Try as you might, you're far too sinister to be allowed to create your own species."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2016-03-31T13:57:30 | 2016-03-31T13:02:39 | 1,816 | 199 |
[WP] One night while you were hanging out with your friends in a bar, you met a mysterious fellow who said he'd make you immortal if you give him beer money. Thinking nothing of it, you drunkenly agree. You are now the last man on Earth. As you walk alone, you cross path with the same man again. | It's been 50 uears since he's spoken a word, but encountering the man who granted him immortality is a good enough reason to try. He clears his throat and, after some struggle, Tom remembers how to speak:
"Figures the only other person in the world is you."
"Yep, it's me! Just came to say thanks for the beer!"
A breeze kicks up a cloud from the dust plains, and Tom approaches further. The grinning barfly doesn't look a day over 25, and his clothing hasn't aged a day either.
"Who are you, anyway?"
"Me? Oh, I'm Jason. Nice to see you again."
Jason approaches and holds out his hand. After staring at it for a minute Tom remembers to shake it. A greeting. Right.
The feeling of another's flesh breaks through the mental numbness he's been building over the last few decades. The sensation of simple, soft warmth against his palm is something that, until this moment, Tom had completely forgotten about.
Tears begin to flow, and he lets them. It's been ages since he's had to feel self-conscious and he isn't going to start now. Part gratitude, part rage, it all comes out in a howl that catches even him by surprise. Through the sobs he manages a few more words:
"Why did you do this to me? Why did you make me stuck here... all alone... and... oh God..."
"Hey, hey it's okay..."
Tom collapses in tears, still grasping Jason's hand for dear life. Jason pats him on the back and does his best to sound comforting.
"You're not alone. You never were. It's okay..."
Tom tries to respond but only manages a desperate look.
"Oh come on: do you really think in my thousands and thousands of years of life that I only made one random person immortal and then randomly abandoned them? For a beer?" He smiles. "There are a few hundred thousand of us just in orbit. We've been scanning for anyone left on the planet but..."
Jason motioned at the clouds of irradiated dust that surround them.
"You mean... there are others?"
"Of course! But... okay I'll admit, I did screw up. You weren't supposed to be stranded on Earth like this but I..."
"Oh my God there are others!"
Tom grabs Jason tightly, afraid to let him go in case he becomes yet another mirage or delirious hallucination. The lander ship's lights illuminate the pair huddled in the dust, the crew preparing to help the last man on Earth leave it forever. | I couldn’t be sure it was him at first.
The man walked down the middle of the street. The same way he had when I met him the first time. He didn’t seem to take notice of me at all.
It was him. I was certain.
"Hey..." I gasped, "I...I remember you."
"I remember you too," he said.
"Do you need any beer money?" I asked.
"No. I don't," he said. He started walking again.
"Wait!" I said.
"I said I don't need any beer money," he said as he continued walking, "That was all the more beer money I needed." | 2020-10-07T04:18:05 | 2020-10-07T04:03:55 | 609 | 69 |
[WP] When you were young, you encountered a witch who promised you immortality in exchange for your firstborn child. You accepted, and used all of your time trying to think of a way to bypass her deal, when finally you came up with an easy loophole that has enraged the witch. You adopted a child. | "Daddy," said Mark, tugging my jeans. "That nasty ol' witch is at the door again. What should I tell her?"
I smiled. My child didn't have a foul mouth, if that's what you were thinking. In fact, Mark was right on; the old lady was nasty, in more ways than one, and a witch. "Tell her to come in."
He nodded, and, a few moments later, the old witch stood in my door. Stunning on the outside, but rotten on the inside, this blonde had made my wife jealous at first, until, of course, she had made us both laugh our arses off.
"What can I do for?" I asked.
"You can give me your new little girl," she said. "Oh, you thought I didn't hear about the second? Well, I did."
"Oh, I'm sure you did," I nodded, "but you have the same problem as the first one."
My little boy laughed just like his mother. He knew how this went.
"You could not possibly have resisted the urge to have a child again. It's been six years!" she scorned. "The first time, maybe, but this time?"
"She just couldn't seem to get her pregnant," I shrugged.
"Well, have you been on contraceptives?" she asked, perplexed. "You know that's against our contract."
"Contracts," I corrected. "My immortality, plus my wife's. Yes, I'm aware. We haven't been on contraceptives. In fact we even tried pro-active measures in addition to regular sex. Nothing!"
I could see she was irrate now. She had lost twice, and would lose no more. "Fine!" she said, leaping up. "I will grant both of your children immortality, too, if you just go all the way."
"All the way?" I asked, confused.
"Let me put a spell on both of you to make you both more fertile than the soil of the Nile River!"
I shrugged. "Sure, I love to pay my debts." I arranged a time, date, and agreed to meet her for the ceremony. When my wife arrived home, she was ecstatic, and we hurried off with our children right away.
Four circles and six dozen magic words later, we arrived home, desperate to get alone. We put the kids to bed, and wondered into the bedroom.
"You know," my wife said to me, "when I first met you, I was amazed at how excited you were that I was trans. Now, I couldn't be happier."
...
...
...
More at r/sarcastic_rambler | Myralith the terrible had always been exactly as her name suggested. she was cruel, unforgiving, unrelenting. crafty, intelligent, and greedy. She had never loved anyone or anything. never held anything but disdain for the world. and this is, of course, why she thoroughly enjoyed stripping those who thought her a fool of there loved ones. it's also why she had given Emma immortality. but something unexpected happened. they day a child's cries could be heard from Emma's suburban home, Myralith broke. and, when she discovered the truth, she began wreaking havoc as she smashed plates and burnt corks. yet no amount of screaming, crying or breaking possessions could change the fact. Emma Jane Anderson had outsmarted her. for the child had been adopted. | 2020-03-10T06:58:24 | 2020-03-10T06:54:55 | 347 | 17 |
[WP] They told you that you were going to lead an army, 10,000 men strong, they didn't tell you it contained only a single trained soldier, and 9,999 support musicians. | When the music began, I wasn’t expecting this to work at all. No matter how powerful the bards could be, and I had seen them work some interesting miracles before, they had always worked best at empowering a group. Focusing teamwork, providing communication of a sorts so that a party of adventurous heroes could follow the tune of bloodshed to victory. Sometimes they could work more individual magics, coaxing the body to heal rapidly or opening a locked door magically, but the most powerful thing I had ever seen a bard do on their own was summoning a hand and knocking weaker men aside. Crushing the occasional goblin with it. Even that was reserved really for the seasoned ones who had been playing in combat for years.
This, this was different. Only a few of them actually played “music”. But the sense of timing that music gave them… I stepped forward, and the drums began. A slow tempo that built up speed until I had moved almost beyond the reach of their sound in moments. I aimed a kick at a stone on the ground, simply testing what I could do at this speed without hurting myself. Then the real magic began, as every drummer in the entire army struck at once. Just like that, the fight was over. Their general decapitated and mostly disintegrated above the waist by the fragments of stone kicked well over half of a field and through several soldiers in heavy armor, each dissipating the blow from a solid stone to slightly smaller but no less dangerous fragments. 20 dead? More?
I managed a smile, suddenly hopeful, and the music amplified it into an irresistible confidence. This was going to go my way, how could it not? The seasoned enemy soldiers were occupied just keeping the more nervous conscripts from breaking rank and fleeing. Unfortunately, something was going horribly wrong. They had loaded a catapult beforehand and in the chaos it seemed one of them was headed more or less on a path to flatten me. I momentarily forgot my strange speed, and threw out a hand instinctively to protect myself against something which I could never have stopped. Flutes kicked into gear, a complicated tune that saw my palm extending out and out, a wave of energy taking the shape of a new and larger hand, another stemming from that palm, and another. The rock crashed clumsily through five of the palms before being caught and tossed quietly aside to crash against the side of a hill when the next three grabbed it out of mid air.
I drew my sword slowly, feeling how light it was as the lutes trembled gently through the air. I looked behind me, noted the progress the army of bards had made towards me. It wouldn’t be long now, and their music would reach the enemy army. When it did, so would I. | "Right, all 9,999 of you line up here to receive your special vests before we enter battle," Sergei said with a grin.
"What makes them special?" asked one musician hesitantly.
"Oh, they contain reinforced plates to protect you in battle," Sergei explained.
"Why arent we getting any weapons?" asked another musician.
"Uh, you'll be supported by artillery. We just need you to get close enough to make the enemy surrender," Sergei said.
Later that day...
Boom! Boom! Kaboom!
Musicians in suicide bomber vests exploded left and right, taking out several enemy soldiers with them.
"Keep running!" Sergei ordered another group musicians. "Run at that formation!"
Boom! Boom! He triggered more vests as the musicians ran.
The battle concluded with Sergei and half of his army taking control of the enemy capital.
"Good work men!" Sergei shouted.
"Now, I need you to form a marching band when we march into town..." | 2022-09-23T09:54:22 | 2022-09-23T09:44:12 | 197 | 41 |
[WP] In what seems like a cruel prank by a bored God, people started developing powers based on their worst fears. people afraid of heights got the gift of flight. arachnophobia? get the power of spiders. phasmophobia? necromancy/ability to speak with the dead. Your power is... hard to explain... | I wake up in my bed, the same bed that I bought.
The same room with the same walls, the same decorations.
All of it is familiar to me, nothing had changed.
Nothing.
Not even the calander date.
My fear was simple and profound at the same time. I feared the familiar, the same repetitive thing over and over again.
I've lived this same day over and over for the past couple years.
At first it was everything that I hated; familairty.
There's only so much a person can take of the same thing over and over again.
For the past year, I've been trying to get out of this time loop that my powers have put me through. Just like that one movie with Bill Murray or that other one set during a college girl's birthday.
It's not that I hate the familiar, It just simply makes me bored.
I've done almost everything that I could in this single day, I've seen pretty much every variation of conversations, interactions, events, etc. I've tried travelling as far as I could the moment I wake up, from stealing a motor bike and speeding out if the city, to catching a plane to the other side of the world. But the moment the clock struck midnight, the day would reset, and I'd wake up in the same bed that I always wake up in.
Some days, I would go out to the city, pick a random person who looks like they don't have much going on in their day, and just get to know them.
Obviously, when you're stuck in a time loop for years, you'd also resort to... shall we say "unsavoury" means to quell your boredom. I'm not proud of them, but I don't necessarily feel guilt over them. These past couple years have made me feel apathetic over my own actions.
I've tried killing myself as well, to see if It would break the loop, or at the very least end it all. Unfortunately that just leads to an earlier reset.
I said earlier that I was trying to find a way out. But honestly, it's kind of difficult to know exactly how you're supposed ti escape a time loop.
I've tried doing what Bill Murray did, and becoming a better person, and achieving what one would consider as worthy of love. But obviously that didn't work out.
And unlike Happy Death Day, I'm not being murdered everyday and have to figure out a way to survive until midnight.
And there's no Aliens resting time every time they failed in order to achieve world domination.
I've tried finding another powered who has control over time, but that's very difficult, most people who have the fear of time are actually afraid of aging or dying
I've even tried conquering my fear, and living the day as close to exactly the same as I did on day 0.
After a month of the exact same day repeating over and over, I've simply given up.
I'll live the day however I see fit.
*Even if it means burning the city to ashes* | That Bruce Wayne guy had the right idea. He was afraid of bats, so he dressed up as bats. Good shit, I say.
My childhood friend was afraid of his alcoholic father, so he drinks to cope with his childhood.
Jfk said, "the only thing we have to fear... is fear itself." What a good quote. Imagine an anti-hero that breaks down villians with the fear they inject to him. You're probably thinking "Badass," with a capital B.
Have you ever rescued a stray animal from the street or took care of a flower that somehow bloomed in concrete. How is it that they go from being evolution's finest in the harshest conditions to being dead from me trying to rescue them?
My parents were role models of people who hate children. As much as I try to lead a different path than them, I know that the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. The yelling and beatings are too ingrained into my memories to not recreate in impatience. I thought I could be different but I couldn't help but constantly go back to the attitude I saw as a child.
So why is it that my brother's car crash left me with a child to raise? | 2022-05-14T19:10:00 | 2022-05-14T18:35:53 | 31 | 18 |
[WP] The princess was cursed that her first husband would die a horrible death. Inorder to avoid this horrible fate the royal family used you as a scapegoat and married you to the princess. But because of your immortality you have died over 20 times and still come back to life. | I didn't mind the deaths, not really. I had died plenty of times before in this long dreg I called a life. However I do have to admit the curse was getting really creative. I've been mauled by wolves once or twice before, but I have to say this was the first time that I was simultaneously stuck by lightning while poisoned in the middle of getting my arm ripped off while fighting a dragon.
At first the royals all looked at me with pity. Then after I came back from death the first time it shocked them. The 5th time is when they started to look at me with fear and disgust. After that it's just been a strange mixture of the two. They're disgusted with me for overstaying my welcome, while at the same time fearing a man they cannot kill. I know for a fact that at least 8 of my deaths were ordered by the same King that used me as a pawn for this exact purpose.
A strong tug on my reattached arms pulls me from my thoughts. "Ow that hurts!"
My wife lets out a small laugh next to me on the bedside as she bandages my reattached arm. "So you can still feel pain after all? I don't know whether to be comforted or disturbed by that." She earns a small wince from me as she finishes the bandaging and ties it tightly. "There that should help heal it up nicely."
It's my turn to let out a laugh of my own. "Thank you, but you do know that you don't need to do that right? Give it time and it'll heal by itself, hell I can even grow new ones."
"No I want to help, even if it's only a little." I see her eyes wander over the rest of my scarred body before meeting my own, guilt obviously apparent. "It's my fault you're going through this after all."
I give her a gentle smile to reassure her. "No worries love! It's nothing I'm not used to." I make a show of rolling the bandaged arm, ignoring the pain of my healing muscles screaming in protest. "See? It's all better. In fact I think it healed even faster thanks to you."
But all that gets is a sad smile from her. "You don't have to do this you know."
"Do what?" I can see where she's going yet I find myself asking anyways.
"Pretend to be okay. Live though the curse of being my husband." She sighs in both resignation and relief as she continues, unburdening the weight she's been bearing for a long time with the thoughts she's been holding in.
"It's alright. I'm grateful that you've been with me this long, but you don't have to go through this even if you can bounce back. You don't have to suffer through the obligation that is being my husband."
Her worry warms my heart. It's unneeded, but sweet nonetheless and I can't help holding her within my arms. I gently stroke her hair in an attempt to reassure her. "Thank you for the worry but there's no place I'd rather be than here."
She stiffens in my arms and starts to sniffle as I begin to feel a wetness on my shoulder.
"Why? My father will never let you inherit the throne. You'll be seen by the people as nothing but a used scapegoat unable to die. So why go through all that alongside death dragging at your side."
"Because it doesn't matter to me how many times I die." I let go of her and bend on one knee before her, taking her hand I gently kiss the ring on her finger.
"I'd happily go through a thousand deaths, for you to share your life with mine." | *The princess’ curse had killed me before, and it would kill me again. But I had to endure for the sake of the royal family. I had to hold them together against the tidal waves of nationalism and fear. I had to keep them from breaking. And I had to watch over them as their father did, as a true son should.*
*Years later, as I sobbed into my pillow, I looked at my father, and I saw the monster he had become. A man possessed by pure lust for power, a man blinded by greed and a man completely consumed by jealousy. A man who abandoned his family and everyone in it for the sake of personal financial gain. A man bent on world conquest just so he could own it. A man who put his family before all else, and himself last. And me? Nothing more than a tool to tame the wild curse of the Hunt.*
*I could see the look in his eyes. He hungered for me, but I could endure no more. One horrible death was sacrifice enough, let alone a dozen. I've done my part.*
*I between pain and death I found him, the King, and carried him away, knowing full well that the demons would find me and consume me. Yet I did it. My lust for life still burns within me, and when the call came again, I shall fulfill it.*
*I took him the the place with the sand and drew a line. It was forbidden to touch the sand, but death was already knocking, so I risked nothing. The King, however, began to fade with the sands of time. His life on one side of the line, what was left of mine on the other.*
*I gave my life to the Hunt, many lives, and now it was time for another's.*
------
This was mostly written by my AI! (I had to babysit the machine a little, but 90% of it was written by my AI which writes based off 7 years of my work) | 2021-06-09T13:33:44 | 2021-06-09T11:44:56 | 338 | 31 |
[WP] After a bad breakup, you take Reddit's famous advice. Lawyer up, hit the gym, delete Facebook. The problem? You are Mark Zuckerberg. | The lobby was crowded with suited men standing in small groups and feverishly arguing. They planned, reasoned, or stood slack-jawed and dejected, but none could think of a solution and all had tried their best to dissuade him. One leaned against a window and openly wept, his phone dangling in his limp hand. Hurried footsteps caused some to look away and see the flustered man marching towards the closed office door. They moved to intercept him but he pushed through wordlessly and entered the room unannounced, the door slamming behind him.
Mark stood shirtless in front of a mirror studying his scrawny physique. He flexed a bicep without expression, stretching a new tribal tattoo over his raw, red skin. He adjusted the tapout cap on his head and turned to his guest.
"Sup Dave. The suits still out there?"
"Mark, what the fuck?"
"What, you think I can't rock these?" He gestured down to a new pair of designer jeans and for a fleeting moment David had to admit that Mark could rock them quite well.
"Not the fucking jeans, Mark. I was in Seattle when I got the call that I'm now the CFO for a company without a fucking product. *What the fuck, Mark?*"
"Priscilla decided she could trade up. Fuck her."
"So you shut down the whole company? Because that dumb bitch screwed around?"
"Had to."
"Why did you *have to*?"
"I asked some people what I should do and this is what they all told me. They're right. I've never been better."
"Who?! Who the fuck told you to throw everything away?!"
"Some guy that fucks ducks, but like a hundred other people agreed."
David found his fingers clenched in his hair and his mouth forming words soundlessly. His stomach sank. He numbly fell back onto the couch and stared in disbelief at Mark, who had returned to flexing in the mirror.
"What am I going to do?"
"I'm about to go find some new kicks, wanna come? Shit, I'll even pay for yours if you promise to lighten the fuck up."
"I mean in life, Mark! This is a good fucking gig and you're about to give it up because your ex-wife is a bitch. Do you see how that doesn't make any sense?!"
"Fine, don't come."
"And what about you, Mark? Facebook is gone, what are *you* going to do?"
Mark turned slowly to face him, his head cocked to the side and a half-smile on his face.
"Oats and squats, bruh. Oats and squats" | With half of Facebook stolen by his former wife in the divorce, Mark Zuckerberg saw no reason not to delete it.
"I'll burn facebook to the ground before I let that money grubbing whore have half!'
DELETE.
*ONE YEAR LATER*
A more swole, more satisfied Zuckerberg floats contented in his pool. In the shallow end his harem of 19-24 year old girls from around the world played with an oversized beach ball. He counted roughly 7 girls, among them his most recent favorites the red haired Irish girl and the sleek one from Brazil. "God, why didn't I do this sooner?"
By the tone and frequency he could tell in about 2 minutes things were going to get freaky deeky.
_______
On the other side of the country, Giselle posted on her new faceyspacer.com account, "Where have all the good men gone?" as she sat alone with her apartment full of cats and ill begotten divorce booty. | 2016-02-15T13:26:19 | 2016-02-15T11:01:14 | 60 | 21 |
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip. | All of the sound was suddenly sucked from the room. I couldn't even hear my own pulse, if I still had one, given what I was seeing... but... no. No, no, no. I'm seeing things. This is just a trick of the light. I chuckled lightly at the thought of my own 'impurity'. What a concept! I was already anxious to share this with my little brother -- the foster kid I sponsor. He's always making fun of me for being "too nice" and he'll really get a kick out of this.
I let out a relieved sigh, smiled at my silly imagination, and set down my needles.
"Michael," I called. No response.
"Michaaaaael..." Nothing. I snorted, stood up, and walked to the basement stairs before calling again. "Michael!" The echo bounced everywhere down that tiny passage, carrying my voice through the door below. "Yes?" he at last replied.
"Mikey, you're never gonna gonna believe this," I said as I began my descent. "I've been knitting all afternoon. I guess I got tired and lost focus because, well, I hurt myself."
"Okay," he mewed in his little voice.
"Well, it wasn't bad, of course... just a needle prick. But you've gotta hear this, Mikey! I swear, for a moment I really thought my blood was, well... y'know... black! Like actually PITCH black! Can you even believe that? I thought it was too good not to share."
"Oh no, but you're so nice," little Mikey offered.
"Yeah I know I am," I retorted rather flatly as I reached the big metal door. I reached out and placed my hand against the rusted surface, leaning as I continued. "I just thought you'd like that, Michael... you like that, right? I knew you would."
"It's very funny, Andy. You're funny, you're always funny." Something shifted on the other side of the closed door and it sounded like cloth dragged across a cement floor. "Are you coming to see me today?" he asked timidly.
"No, I'm busy right now," I began. "Maybe later. I still need to finish up before the homeless shelter opens in a few hours." I turned and started back upstairs. Behind me, the dragging sound continued and a shallow panting could be heard. Mikey was a strange kid, but he was great. He understood me and I understood him. After work, maybe we could watch a movie or play a game together. He'll like that, I know it.
I sat back down at my needlework and looked at the finger I had pricked. The clear blood dripped cleanly on to the table, making little pools which were merging into bigger pools. I smiled at how lucky I was to be helping people and making the world a nicer place. The pool of blood had gotten large enough to run over the edge of the table. It was now covering my boots and soaking the floor. My smile got bigger thinking about the people I was going to help today. I couldn't wait to see their happy faces. The sickly sweet smell of blood overwhelmed me with joy. I picked up the needle and finished the stitch I had started, passing through the fabric and the flesh and sticking in the bone. Yes, today was going to be a beautiful day for *everyone*.
| i was shooked to my very core on the first sight of my blood now turning into TAR.
how can this happen i said to myself it was liquid, so pure, just yesterday.
as i ran toward the mirror and stripped naked my eyes started to turned black as a intricate maze of my thick sludgy nerves started to form around my heart.
every second , every next breath became harder and out of my reach
but i knew i knew what had caused it.It was my own doing ,it was me who commited the original sin just hours before now, i cant forgive myself but salvation is still in my grasp. just one phone call just one i wispered to mysrlf as i now dragged my half paralyzed body to my phone.
The flashback started to crawl out of my subconscious as i saw images of kids, ice cream shops ,playgrounds every stop from my school to my home.
i had it in my hands, the phone, now was the time to redeem myself as i made through every digit my heartbeat sank deeper and became louder and louder, it was the end
"i was waiting for your call" he said.
just when i thought it was all over i heard him, i heard the voice of Bob , "you are late,too late" he said but as i accumulated all lifeforce and channeled it to my lungs to say those 2 words that will absolve me of my sins i couldn't my heart gave up as i saw the light tapering into darkness.Those last words i still remember , that sinister laugh through the phone
"you forgot it , you forgot to thank me, you forgot to thank the bus driver".
| 2018-08-04T10:00:48 | 2018-08-04T09:55:07 | 147 | 10 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | The gigantic oak door that made up the main entrance to my mansion buckled and broke, flying off its hinges in a shower of splinters. A young knight stepped in, clad in a pragmatic and flexible armor.
"I will not let you take my dragon!" I shrieked, wielding a heavy trident.
"Yes yes, we know."
"He is mine!" Purple flames licked the trident.
"He is a dragon." The knight said, and looked around the large hall. "Also we are fairly certain you have been driven coco in the head. This place stinks by the way, you realize that?"
"He is just misunderstood! I do not need to be rescued!"
"I mean, this is more like an attempted arrest..."
I rushed against him. The coward backed away as I flung small shots of purple flames at him from my trident.
"You will never have him! None of you!"
"Yeah we gathered that when you killed the first, a crap." The young knight blocked some of my bullets with his large kite shield and continued as if he was completely unperturbed, the bastard. "... after you killed the first three people come to try and extract you. Spontaneous magical powers huh. No wonder you are completely unhinged."
"I am NOT CRAZY!"
"Sure, sure. Just any normal princess arent you just."
"Leave now or I will kill you! You will never slay my dragon!"
"We are not here to slay your dragon."
That actually disturbed me. I stared at him with large, shocked eyes.
"That was the original plan sure, but you know. We were working on limited information."
"So why have you disturbed my domicile?"
"Well..." The young knight hesitated. "We are gonna save the dragon? From you?"
I screamed out in fury and flung my arcane powered trident at him full force, he let out another frightful gasp and again raised his shield.
"Oh Crap!" The trident hit straight into his shield, breaking it in four large pieces and sending him up into the air. He hit the wall with a large thud that echoed across the hall, then fell down on the floor. He tried to stand, but his knees buckled and he fell down on one of them.
I sneered at him, looking around for something to finish the job.
"It seems you will be the fourth, sir knight." I said in a mocking tone. "You will never be able to defeat me."
"Me? Maybe not. But you know. I did not actually... ah... come alone."
And then a large number of things occurred simultaneously.
From the back of my mansion I heard a large explosive sound, as if someone had just blown up the back door, and a loud happy rumbling as if something large was being escorted out of the building.
"Oh no! My dodo!" I screamed, but at exactly the same time, windows on both sides of the building shattered as two rather short knights poured in. One of them was a dwarf, and the other were clearly a gnome. They were wearing the same style of armor as the young knight.
"This is a KESA raid!" The gnome yelled. "Surrender now!"
I snarled and turned to set the little bastard on fire, but before I could, his friend shot a strange crossbow bolt at me. As it hit me, the glass head shattered, and I was covered in a strange gas that made me cough and spit. As I was unable to form the arcane power, the gnome rushed at me and threw a very small net at my knees. Then the young knight tackled me to the ground and gagged me.
​
"That eh, stands for Knights Extraction and Special Assault squad." He said, as I struggled and cursed at him trough the restraints.
\-
In the aftermath of the extraction, as the still cursing, still tied up, soon to be ex-princess was being carted away, the KESA squad met for a short after operations debrief.
"Cannot lie to you boss, that was helluva risky." The gnome knight said.
"Yeah maybe. I wanted to confirm she was really you know. Coco in the head." The young knight said, tapping at his temple. "Also it fit with the reports. No immediate attacks, just lots of shouting, then a flashes of purple light. And some more... much more abrupt screams."
The gnome knight grunted but said nothing. The young knight turned to a somewhat tall elf and an equally tall older human wearing the same armor as the rest of them. "How was the dragon?"
The old human shrugged. "Malnourished and scared, but otherwise mostly fine. He should be back with his parents soon."
The young knight lit a small yet finely crafted ivory pipe and shook his head. "Crazy times these. If this was back in my grandfathers days, we would have blamed the dragon for turning the princess mad and executed him on the spot."
"Things arent so simple anymore." The elf knight said. The dwarf knight grunted. "They never were. So boss, what do we do now?"
"What else is there?" The young knight said. "Now we do the paper work." | "Maybe in this castle we'll be safe," she thought to herself, "maybe we won't have to run again."
It had been so long since she had felt safe. So long since the running had started. So far they had travelled together, he had kept her safe as she fled to find another haven. So many worlds they had discovered, and fallen in love with, only to have to run again. Couldn't those heroes (ugh, what an incorrect label), just stop and take the hint. Clearly she didn't want to be rescued, she just wanted to be left alone, with her best friend, her ONLY friend, at this point, thanks to those annoying pesks.
So she began to set up house, and after a few weeks had passed, Bolthezar and Tolde arrived finally. Bolthezar looking a little worse for wear. "Don't tell me," she sighed, "unless he is dead." Bolthezar's face dropped, and he turned away. "I will set up the barricades," and he began to leave. "WAIT!" She cried, "Come, rest tonight. We can make the arrangements tomorrow."
He stopped, and came back. She led him over to the veranda, from previous experience she knew he wouldn't want to be anywhere near a fire at this point. She quickly went, and grabbed some food and drinks, and set out a table. Tolde joined as well, and they all sat in silence, a general discontent settling over the trio.
"This is a good location," Bolthezar said, after some time had passed, "it was empty?" She shook her head, of course not. Tolde clucked his displeasure, even though he too knew that this was the eighth world, the last line of defense. There was no where else to go after this. The conversation they had all been avoiding could no longer be put off.
"This hero and his brother have been relentless," she began, "I think it is time. I need to stop running." Bolthezar looked up sharply, and Tolde started, but she put up a hand. "You two have been so good to me all this time, and so faithful. But there is no other option. This ends here. We shall make the final stand tomorrow, and if he still defeats you, he will have earned his prize."
"My princess, I must say, even though this has been a very exhausting journey, I am grateful and so very blessed to have been able to travel the worlds with you, and I wouldn't trade this time for anything. And as to these pursuers, it seems that they may yet be worthy. They have defeated every challenge I have pitted against them, and have never lost hope, no matter how many times Tolde tried to turn them away. They may yet be worthy to take my place as your protector." Bolthezar shifted, as he spoke, and she could see the weariness in his movements. Yes it was time.
"Dearest Bowser," she used the name she had christened him in her youth, "I will always treasure you and my wonderful, enigmatic Toad." They all had a chuckle at her words. Then Princess Peach paused for a moment, "but how do I choose, having never met either, how will I choose between two PLUMBERS? It seems so unbelievable to be true." | 2019-01-09T11:21:07 | 2019-01-09T11:07:30 | 72 | 24 |
[WP] After a whole year full of catastrophes, it’s December 2020. Astronomers have noticed that entire constellations and star systems are vanishing from the sky, night after night. What ever is happening, it’s getting closer to us. | "Ahura," Jaini said with a sigh, "have you finished wiping the server? Boss wanted it clean by last week." He wiped the Zheeto dust coating his fingers on crinkled office slacks. His once-white button-up hung loose over slouched shoulders, its shape on the verge of giving up like its owner's eyes.
Ahura didn't turn from his holoscreen, his fingers flying furious. "Ah...almost done. Just deleting Sagittarius...there. Another five trillion quibits gone."
"Five trillion," Jaini muttered, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, "What's five measly trillion. Where's all the memory going anyway?" Jaini leaned closer to the screen and squinted. "I see your precious Earth is still up and running. And eating 10 quintillion qubits."
Ahura put up a hand. "Yeah I'm working on it. I've sent bushfires, viruses, incited some wars. The population's less than halved, I just need a few more days."
"A few more days?!" Jaini exclaimed. "Do your ears work? We need it done now. Pronto. Chop chop." Jaini hovered his hand over the hologram of Earth and flicked open the system menu.
"No!" Ahura batted Jaini's hand away. "We can't just...zap them out of existence. They're alive, almost, and life should end with death. It's common dignity, you know, they're just like..."
"You and me?" Jaini cocked a brow and shook his head. "Hivemind Almighty. Ahura, you are lucky it's lunch time and Galaxybucks is having a special. When I'm back I want this gone."
Ahura watched Jaini leave, slamming the door of their cubicle behind him, and got to work. With the remnants of Alpha Centuri, he rained meteors on Earth and winced as he watched her cities burn. 4 quintillion left. With a few adjustments to the Sun, he nudged the ice caps to their melting point and flooded entire islands. 2 quintillion. Earthquakes, Kaijus, fire pillars from heaven. *Sorry*, he whispered at the last one. 100 trillion qubits.
Ahura fished his jeans pocket for a flash drive. It was small and unassuming, adorned only by yellow block letters printed on its side. *BEST BUY*. He peeked his head up above his block's walls and glanced around. Deserted as it always was at this hour of day. He willed his heart to still as he plugged the drive in. "I'm sorry. This is the best I can do for you." | A long time ago, a massive alien empire prepared, sending out van neuman probes into another galaxy. They wanted to troll the scientists of a young and unsuspecting civilization. They did the math, and hoped that they did not miscalculated somewhere. Every star should disappear for them at roughly the same moment in time. But they would need to be able to see it, and understand. But they needed to begin around twohundredthousand years before it became relevant, and only had a window of opportunity of roughly 500 years. They where ready, and the dyson spheres where completed around the farthest stars. Staggered more and more Dyson spheres were completed. And finally, on the 25th December, 2020, the last star in the milkyway disappeared. On the first day of 2021, a message arrived from space: „We have prepared your galaxy for you, we gift you those megastructures...“ | 2020-03-24T02:45:39 | 2020-03-24T02:04:36 | 860 | 39 |
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