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[WP] Limbo is a featureless room with a door labeled “heaven” and one labeled “Hell”. Heaven has been locked for 12,000 years. Today’s the day you finally say “screw it, anything’s better than this.” | Twelve thousand years. That's how long I've been sitting in limbo. I feel like I'm in a waiting room at the doctor, but no magazines or smooth jazz. There are two doors on the far wall from me, one labeled heaven, and the other hell. I've tried the heaven door, it's been locked since I got here. I've tried everything to avoid being tempted by the other door. I've tried talking myself out of it, but I stopped doing that when I started to hear the voices inside my head start arguing with each other over what to do. I've tried staring into the blank white of the walls around me, hoping for sleep or someone to come out of one of the doors. Sleep never came, nor did anyone else. I've been alone here fully conscious the entire time.
There was a period of time where I thought this was hell. The doors on the wall just a trick put in to make me suffer. The blinding white pounding into my eyes reminded me of office lightning, except without the ceiling tiles. I'm not sure how tall the room is, there's no shadows anywhere. Everything is perfectly porcelain.
Finally one day, I think it's a day anyway, I can't really tell time in here anymore, I tell myself "Screw it, anything's better than this." and head toward the hell door. Walking to it a thousand thoughts rush into my head. Is there anyway back here if I make the wrong decision? Would I even want to come back? What kind of hell awaits me? These thoughts buzz around inside me as I reach for the doorknob.
I go to turn it.
It's locked too. | Imagine a football field, only indoors, surrounded by walls instead of cheering fans. There are no signs or markings. Everything is the same indescribable shade of gray, even the air in front of you, making it impossible to see anything more than a few yards away. Not that yards have any meaning. Or time.
It's been thousands of years -- or at least what seems like that -- that I've wandered here in this cavernous room, inching my way to one end then the other, back and forth. Movement is a struggle, like fog slowly moving across an icy surface.
I'm not alone here. I've seen others. We've floated aimlessly in the same direction for a time before separating, or passed in opposite directions without so much as a whisper. When I first encountered another soul, a phantom approaching in the distance, i hollered out to them but I couldn't hear myself. I can only hear my thoughts. Over days, as the distance between us closed, I tried to communicate through gesture and pantomime. But movement was restricted and sluggish. My arms, my fingers didn't seem entirely there.
A nonexistence. In an empty, featureless limbo.
There were two exceptions.
Imagine where the 50-yard line would be. At either end of it stood a door. The gold one was marked "Heaven". The black one emblazoned "Hell". I've passed them both countless times. The door to Heaven has remained locked, and the key has so far eluded me. The black door, I know, will open. I saw a brief bright light maybe a thousand years ago. This is the door that I'm approaching now.
I can't take this nonexistence any more. Anything has to be better.
I reach for the knob and feel it in my hand. I grip it tightly and don't wish to let go of this feeling. My feet, such as they are, find solid purchase on the floor, all the leverage I need to pull.
With a great effort, taxing unused muscles, I open the portal and peer inside.
I feel the heat of the eternal fire, smell the burning of brimstone. I see three demons who stopped in their tracks and look back at me. The biggest one, with oozing leathery skin, cloven feet, giant horns and decrepit bat wings, raised a paw in my direction and beckoned me. He waved a smaller one to go to me -- to welcome me or fetch me? The lesser demon dragged a chain behind it. On the other end of the links was a damned soul, leaving a path in the molten floor, its skin covered with sores, scabs and burns.
I shut the door.
Maybe something isn't always better than nothing. Maybe something better will come along.
-- other stories and responses are posting in r/xwhy
edit: typos | 2018-02-09T07:32:06 | 2018-02-09T07:31:53 | 119 | 31 |
[WP] To extend your life, you've played Death in many games and beaten him. However, after your last game, you begin to see that Death has been losing to you on purpose. | 1."Why?" - I asked, after another game of chess that felt so familiar. I'm no grand master, but I've played enough game, with him at least, to see the pattern.
"Let's just say... I'm a fan of your works." - he then departed, leaving me waiting for another game that I'd win.
Five movies, another one in production, eight novels and three short stories collections. I wrote romance. Sometimes there were different genres mixed in, but romance remained the core. Critically acclaimed, although I didn't trust critics so much. The only one to judge my works is the reader. Then again, are critics not readers?
I put the chess pieces back into the box. The house seemed much bigger now that I'm the only one there.
I watered the hand-sized cacti by the window. She would've enjoyed more leaf-ly plants, but I couldn't spare that amount of attention. Not that she would complain. She never complained. Even during chemo.
Well, as long as I had you, Sophie.
2."You don't understand anything about women. This is not how they're supposed to act." - she put the manuscript down, glancing at me.
"Well, the readers like it. I like it." - I said, resting my back after an all-nighter.
"It's illogical."
"Love, my dear, is not logical." - I pulled the manuscript away from her hand.
"....I suppose."
3."Where do you want to go for our honeymoon?" - she asked, holding a handful of brochures.
"Somewhere where I can work." - I said, typing on my laptop.
"It's our honeymoon, for Christ's sake!" - she moaned.
I didn't respond.
"How about Hawaii?" - she changed her tone and repressed her disappointment.
"Yeah, yeah. Hawaii is good." - I said, finishing chapter 23.
4."Why?" - I repeated the question, fifty years after I first asked it. Death just made a game-losing move both he and I could obviously notice.
He fell back into his chair, staring at me.
I'd no longer written for so long. The royalties were big enough and the creativity had run dry.
"Why am I still alive?" - I asked.
"Because you just won." - he answered nonchalantly.
"I demand a reason. The true reason."
"Let's talk about you, Brandon Milkes," - Death slowly picked off the chess pieces, one at a time - "You were a brilliant novelist, an innovator in your genre, author of award-winning books which became award-winning movies. You created characters loved by many. But..."
He stopped for a moment.
"But... Well, how to say it... In my time as a Reaper, I've guided many souls with these hand. And more than just a job, it is a passion, like your passion with writing. Once, I led a feeble soul to the Nether Realm. She was your wife, River Milkes. It pained me to see how you'd hurt such a lovely lady."
He leaned toward me, his ghastly voice echoed into a thousand screams.
"How you left her alone in her chemo sessions just to finish your goddamn books, how you slept in your study when she lied awake at the hospital."
He then reacquired the usual calm demeanor.
"...Among other things. My point, is that you were so obssessed with your creation that you forgot about her. More so, you loved your own characters than you her. It explains why even now there are only portraits of Sophie hanging aroung in the house."
"And you're doing this on her behalf?"
"No. Strangely enough, she still loves you. It seems that none of us truly understand women."
He said nothing for awhile.
"I did told her to love me is to be miserable." - I stood up, walking around - "I create characters I believe to be perfect. I can't help falling in love with them."
"And she can't help loving you."
"So... This is my retribution?" - I reached for a locked box inside my desk. The last photo I had of River. Too late, the photo had faded away, and I couldn't remember what she looked like anymore.
"No. I'm just making sure you can't hurt her again." | I set down my rook.
“Checkmate.”
“DAMN. I THOUGHT I HAD YOU. EXCELLENT PLAY, MICHELLE.”
“Thank you. Tomorrow, then, Death?”
“AS ALWAYS.” He began to disappear. As I looked at the board, I noticed something off about the play.
“Death, wait.”
“YES? WHAT IS IT?”
“You could have easily blocked my move. I’m no grandmaster, and you’ve had years of experience at this point. Far more than me.”
“YOUR POINT?”
“You... you haven’t been losing to me on purpose, have you?” I looked up into his skeletal face. It was always a grin, as it was a skull, but I could swear he was smiling.
“YOU FIGURED IT OUT, HM? I ASSUME YOU HAVE QUESTIONS.”
“Yes. Why?” Death sat down.
“IT WAS NEVER YOUR TIME. YOU PASSED TOO SOON. WHEN YOUR BODY WAS PULLED FROM THE WRECKAGE, WHEN YOU SACRIFICED TO SAVE YOUR HUSBAND, I WAS MOVED. I AM NOT ALLOWED TO SIMPLY LET SOMEONE LIVE AFTER THEY HAVE PASSED. BUT THERE IS A LOOPHOLE.”
“If you make a deal, and you lose...”
“I DO NOT HAVE TO CLAIM YOUR SOUL. CORRECT.”
“But... why me? I’m hardly the most heroic person in the world.”
“I DO NOT HAVE DOMAIN OVER EVERY SOUL. THE GODS THAT BE DECREED YOUR LIFE OF LITTLE VALUE, AND AS I AM A LOW RANKING REAPER, ASSIGNED YOU TO ME. SOLDIERS, EMERGENCY WORKERS, POLICEMEN, THOSE THAT SURVIVE IN THE LINE OF DUTY FOR THE SAKE OF OTHERS, THOSE LIVES HAVE BEEN DECREED HIGH VALUE.”
“But why me? Why am I low value?”
“YOU MARRIED, YOU HAD CHILDREN. YOUR LIFE WAS NOT OF MUCH SIGNIFICANCE. YOU WERE NOT FAMOUS, YOU WERE NOT POPULAR, YOU WERE NOT A HERO. NOT UNTIL THE DAY YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED.”
“So you saved me.”
“BECAUSE YOU BECAME HIGH VALUE. YOU BECAME A HERO. THE GODS THAT BE CANNOT SEE THE FUTURE; THEY CANNOT SEE WHO ALL WILL LIVE OUT THEIR VALUE. THE COWARDLY SOLDIERS. THE DIRTY CELEBRITIES. THE-“
“Heroic masses.”
“...YES, IF YOU WANT TO PUT IT LIKE THAT. BESIDES ALL THAT, HOWEVER, THERE IS ONE MORE REASON.”
“What is it?”
“DEATHS CAN DIE. WE ARE NOT HARBRINGERS OF DEATH, OR MANIFESTATIONS OF SOULS OR THE AFTERLIFE. WE ARE SIMPLY... HOW SHOULD I PUT THIS? WE ARE LIKE THE... HOW YOU SAY, UBER OF THE AFTERLIFE. WE HELP YOUR SOUL TRAVEL TO ITS PLACE OF REST, ITS ETERNAL HOME. BUT WE MUST BE COMPASSIONATE. FAR TOO MANY DEATHS COME FROM THOSE WHO WISH TO INFLICT PAIN ON SOULS FOR THEIR OWN AMUSEMENT.”
“Wait, Deaths come from souls?”
“WHEN PARTICULARLY STRONG SOULS DIE, THEY CAN BECOME A REAPER, YES. I MYSELF DIED IN WORLD WAR TWO.”
“Fascinating...”
“IF IT IS YOUR WISH, I WOULD LIKE YOU TO REPLACE ME.”
“Replace you?”
“YES. YOU ARE THE LAST SOUL TETHERING ME TO EXISTENCE.”
“I’m... i...”
“IF YOU ACCEPT, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO GAMBLE WITH ME ANY LONGER TO LIVE. I WILL NOT HAVE TO APPEAR TO YOU ANY LONGER, AND WHEN YOU DIE, YOU WILL COME TO ME, AND TAKE MY PLACE IN THE AFTERLIFE.”
“And if I don’t want to?”
“I WILL CONTINUE TO APPEAR, AND YOU CAN CONTINUE TO GAMBLE YOUR LIFE WITH ME, AS WE HAVE. YOU CAN TAKE TIME TO THINK ON IT, IF YOU WISH.”
“And what about my husband and children?”
“IF THEY WISH TO ACCOMPANY YOU ONCE THEY PASS, THEY MAY DO SO, WITH ALL OF THEIR MEMORIES INTACT.”
“...Sounds like a win-win.”
“WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE?”
“...” I sat, and thought for a moment. Then I nodded, and stood, facing him.
“I accept. I will replace you, upon my death.”
“EXCELLENT.”
“Under one condition.”
“WHAT IS IT?”
“I still want to speak with you, about death and the afterlife.”
“AS YOU WISH.” He faded away, and I put the chessboard away.
“Michelle, honey?”
“Yes?”
“Who were you speaking to?”
“Oh, just a friend.” My husband came into the room, and kissed me.
“Sounded serious.”
“It was. Don’t worry about it, okay?”
“If you say so. I still will, though.”
“I know. How’s Bobby sleeping?”
“Peacefully, thanks to you.” I smiled.
“Let’s not wake him yet. He’s got a long life ahead of him.”
As we left the room, I could almost feel His presence. He may be a reaper, but for me...
He was a guardian angel.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Check out r/SwordsumoStories for more (although I don’t update often, ripperoni) | 2018-03-21T10:23:29 | 2018-03-21T08:35:33 | 156 | 23 |
[WP] After 10 years and 3 games, you retired as the beloved villain of a popular video game franchise. A year later, you hear the new game bombed. Later that day, someone bangs on your door. You find the hero and extended cast, all of whom you've tried to murder and/or maim, begging you to return. | "We're ruined, Bowser."
Mario sits in front of you, his cap off of his head and held tightly to his chest. "We... we tried to give the games more story... more than just 'save the princess'... We went into the background of the mushroom kingdom, gave it lore, gave it an entirely new villain..."
"...And it blew up in your face." You grunt, picking up your too-small coffee mug with your massive, clawed forefinger and thumb, and swishing it around.
"We should-a left it to Zelda." Mario said quietly, before throwing their hat down, his anger already causing him to revert back to his natural accent. "I TELLS-A THEM! I tells-a that stinkin' producer, 'the best of the series isn't the jumpin', or the koopa's, or the mushrooms - the best thing about it is-a you, Bowser! It's-a your simplicity! You didn't have any special motives, you just-a wanted to kidnap the princess, and the people loved that! They loved that they could just pick up a game and know exactly what they-a were in for! Bowser, I know you're tired of the schtick, but please, you gotta come back, I'm... I'm-a beggin ya, buddy!"
You shake your massive head, before downing your coffee cup - mug and all - in one massive gulp. Crunching the shards with your teeth, you nod. "Mario... what have critics praised about your franchise throughout the years?"
"Well... the controls..." Mario began. "The... the platforming, and the, the-"
"And how many of these reviews praised the 'incredible boss design', and the 'brutal simplicity and satire of Lord Bowser'?"
Mario paused. "...none of them."
"Exactly." You lean forwards. "Mario, it was never about me - hell, to an extent, it's never been about you. It's always been about the game - the well-designed formula with a lot of heart put into it." You stand up, head over to the coffee machine. "That's the real reason we've endured so far. So you made a bad game. Big whoop. Sunshine was critically panned at release, but it's still a damn good game. Thousand-year Door wasn't given that hearty of a reception, but it's proven to be the best one in the Paper Mario series." Pouring your new cup, you tromp back over and sit down, the chair creaking under your bulk. "One bad game isn't going to bring it all down. Just play it safe for a while - some kart games, some sports games - and put the new guy through his paces. Let people get used to him. THEN try and put him in a big role again."
You nod again. "Don't worry, Mario. Neither of us is going anywhere."
Mario looks up, and nods. "You're... you're right, Bowser." He lets out a weak smile from under his moustache. "Sure you don't want to come back?"
"I'm getting too old for this, Mario." You say, leaning back again. "Maybe I'll show up in a kart game or two, maybe for the big five-oh, but... yeah. I'm old fashioned. Let the new guy have his fun, and, eh..." You hold out your cup. "Give 'im a few stomps for me, will ya'?"
Mario grins, and stands up to clink his cup against yours. "I'll toast to that! Wa-hoo!" | "How bad is it?" I asked, leaning against the door frame leading into my keep.
"It's bad Nemesai, real bad." Galahan sighed, fiddling with the horsetail tassel on his golden helm. "They totally screwed the ship date, over promised and under delivered." A tear forms in the corner of his eye, "They had..." he stalls out, the tears coming unchecked now, "...they had day one DLC man."
"Monsters," Loyal Footsoldier #2 whispered.
Princess Heartlyn put a comforting hand on his shoulder, though her eyes were red as well. "It was a slaughter," she whispered. "The metacritic was under thirty."
Loyal Footsoldier #2 spoke up then, "We don't know what they were thinking. They went to a yearly release model and cut you out..."
I nodded, listening stoically. I had too many animations to hit the reduced production timeline so they simply axed me for an ooze. Not a lot to animate for an ooze. They mostly just ooze. "Listen, I wish I could help you guys, but I've got it in my contract that I don't get out of bed for less then five fully animated special moves." I'm a god damn professional; a big boss for fucks sake. I couldn't just wander around with a single sword swipe. I had a reputation to uphold.
"Nemesai, please. You were there in the beginning. The game needs you. The players need you." Princess Heartlyn's giant pink eyes looked at him, "We need you."
The Princess and I went back a long way. We had history. She was with Galahan now, but it wasn't always that way. Once she had been mine. But plots change. Beta feedback come in and all of a sudden the good guy is the bad guy. I didn't begrudge it to Galahan, but the wound was still there. "What about you Heartlyn? Do you need me?"
Galahan shifted uncomfortably, but remained silent. "Yes Nemesai, me too," she took a breath, "but we can't be together. You know that right?"
It was quiet for a long moment, Loyal Footsoldier #2 taking the opportunity to admire a suddenly very interesting leaf on the trail. I knew she was right, but it had helped to hear her say that there was still something. Maybe in another time, another place, perhaps in a mod. But for now, the question remained: would I step up? "What makes you think they'll take it seriously this time? You saw how they handled Battles of Pherelia 3. Why is four going to be different?"
"They missed Q2 results pretty badly and the creative director on Call of Medal of Duty for Honor Field of Battle 2 is out."
"They lost Samuels?" I asked, my eyes widening. The man was a creative force.
"Yeah, he's making some VR game or something now. Said he needed to extend his 'creative wings' and 'rediscover his inner designer', whatever the fuck that means." Galahan replied.
"Yeah, that sounds like Samuels all right."
"So they got nothing on the slate except us. They're tripling down."
"What about ooze boy? Thought you guys were so enamored with your fancy new final boss." Getting subbed out for an ooze hurt. It reduced the prestige of the entire affair.
"Miniboss now," Heartlyn replied.
A slow smile spread across my face. Damn right miniboss. And lucky for it too, oozes were supposed to stay in the tutorial area where they belonged.
"They going to do right by me? Give me the finishing moves I asked for? No offense Galahan, but unless I'm in a position to gut and decapitate you, I'm not interested." I said, pushing my case. If I was going to be the one to carry the franchise, then I wanted my due.
Galahan reached into his pouch and pulled out a small folded piece of paper and handed it to me. I accepted it, gradually unfolding it in my hands.
"They're taking it seriously Nemesai." Galahan said.
I looked down at the picture, it was box art. I stood front and center, looming over a tiny Galahan, Princess Heartlyn in a cage behind me. Across the top the title of the game was emblaozed in blood red writing, "Battles of Pherelia 4: NEMESAI'S REVENGE."
Princess Heartlyn took a step closer, "Are you in or what?"
I stared at the paper in my hand for a moment longer. "Yeah, Princess. I am."
Loyal Footsoldier #2 cheered.
**Platypus out.**
**Want more peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | 2018-05-06T16:18:31 | 2018-05-06T16:14:14 | 59 | 37 |
[WP] You are mysteriously transported into your favorite last generation game, meaning that everyone's actions are programmed and feel very predetermined. The main character notices how freely you act and sighs. "Thank god, you finally made it." | "Thank god, you finally made it," a feminine voice echoed deep inside a suit of heavy plate armor. "I wasn't sure how much longer I'd last."
The once-pristine armor, covered in dents and scratches, began to lose its shine. "It's your turn. I'm exhausted. I'll die soon, then God only knows what'll happen." She fell to her knees, her armor crumbled like ash, revealing gray skin that was a stiff breeze from doing the same.
"You know what to do. *Link the fire. It's your duty as Chosen.*"
As the last words passed her lips, she blew away in the wind, leaving no trace of her existence except a small flame where she once stood. And that's how I came to watch this fire 500 years ago. Chosen Undead, it's now your turn.
*Do your duty, and link the fire. The Age of Fire must continue.* | "Red? Is that you?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"..."
"Is it really you?"
"..."
"You just spoke to me"
"You... from... outside?"
"Yes! I was wondering-"
"HELP MEEEEEEE"
"Woah, chill! I know a way we can get out. Ever heard of Sinnoh?"
"Sin...noh?"
"It's another region, like Kanto. Only, there is a Pokemon known as Giratina. If we can call him, we can escape. If that doesn't work, we can use the power of the Space God, Palkia to make an exit."
"I... am... yours... to... guide"
And with that, we set off on our long and arduous journey to Sinnoh. It took us 3 years, during which, we dominated the Johto, Hoenn and Sinnoh leagues. Finally, we arrived at Mt. Coronet. We reached the peak, Spear Pillar, only to find a group of weirdly dressed men and women. Behind them were two boys of similar age to us and they were awestruck. We looked up and saw what they were looking at. It was... Dialga and Palkia in red chains. The whole world seemed to be darkening. It started to rain as Dialga and Palkia started gathering power. What nobody noticed was that the black mud that formed as a result of the rain formed a clear mirror-like image. Two bright red spots were visible, and then a whole shape. It was Giratina. Giratina emerged from the mud and quickly shot two shadow balls, breaking the chains that held both Palkia and Dialga. Now free, Dialga and Palkia returned to their time. While everyone was staring at Giratina, the black mud widened and swallowed the leader of the group. Giratina stared at us as if it understood who we were. It beckoned us to it and as we moved, Giratina moved toward us and then it was gone and we were gone. We were no longer on Spear Pillar, instead, we had appeared on top of the Empire State Building. Police choppers hovered above us. Two missing people were both found on the Empire State building.
| 2018-06-27T01:26:55 | 2018-06-27T01:11:28 | 72 | 35 |
[WP] If your death is imminent, time stops for everyone but you. This allowed you to cheat death on many occasions by avoiding all sorts of danger except for now - you have no idea whats threating your life. Its been a year since time stopped. | I've been cursed with a terrible form of immortality. Every time my death is but moments away, time grind to a halt for everyone. And while I am still able to manipulate my suroundings to some degree, i do not age, hunger, require sleep or otherwise feel the passage of time.
I know this because time has stood still for a year and will not start before i remove myself from whatever danger is threatening my life.
The first time it hapened was in my car. Avoiding a cat, or maybe a small dog, I swerved into the path of a truck on the highway. Before it was too late, time ceased. I left the car in the state of almost shock a near brush with death gives. As i walked around the scene, time resumed and the truck slammed into my driverless vehicle. Thankfully noone else was hurt.
The second time, a fire broke out at work. Trying to evacuate time stopped and I found myself unable to open the emergency exit to the stairwell. It ended after i had resolved to climb down an escape laddar outside. Turns out 320 people died trying the stairwells as a delivery service had "momentarily" blocked it. It occured to me that my ability to affect the world was tied to my chances of survival. I cannot, for example, jump out a window on the 20th floor. If the window is closed, i simply cannot open it. If its open, i cannot make the jump. The movements necessary prove themselves impossible.
It is with some regret I now realise placing myself in an airplane was a less than stellar idea.
The floor is angled some 67 degrees and I assume there is a gaping hole in the side of the plane. Or there is a raging fire in the cabin. Perhaps a terrorist will blow it up, or a missile is moments from impact. I dont think I ever will know. I am in the toilet, the thin door refusing to open. | "good morning, miss Anderson! What wonderful day this is huh? Just like yesterday and the day before!"
"why yes you're right mister Emmett today is a wonderful day just like yesterday and the day before!"
I grinned, I always had a crush on miss Anderson, the fact that I was talking to her so freely felt like a dream come true, there was no one who could get in my way, no one who could interrupt us, not her fucking husband nor other people.
It felt dirty
It felt unreal.
"Emmet, sweetie? Are you alright?"
*oh right, she always called me that... I didn't like it, it made me feel like she wasn't seeing me as a man but rather just a child*
"Emmet, are you alright?" I corrected her, yes that's better, that's what she should call me, just Emmett is fine.
"I always liked you miss Anderson" I said, my hands sweating.
"...I like you too... Emmet..." I said mimicking her voice. Her body remained unmoving, frozen. A feet in front of the other but never taking a step forward. I'd like to believe she was looking at me but I knew she was looking at nothing in particular.
"...I'm scared miss Anderson" I said " I'm so scared"
"please help me, tell me what should I do"
"tell me how... To get out of here..."
***
*it's just a matter of time*
I went out to my usual walks across the town, searching for something, something that could help me break out of this prison, but just like always, I find nothing. The snow falls from the sky but never reaches the ground.
"ah today is a wonderful day" I said "just like yesterday... and the day before..."
I kept walking. A year had passed since I stopped time and I still couldn't find the threat to my life, no matter how much I walked, no matter how much I looked around. Nothing changed, nothing ever changed.
I walked down a street whose name I could no longer remember, but my body always took me there, to the street where miss Anderson is. Talking to her was the only joy a had left
"hello miss Anderson, today is a wonderful day right? Just like yesterday, just like the day before..."
She didn't say anything.
"this is stupid" I said
"...you're stupid" I said to myself.
*what?*
"for how long did you think you could avoid death?" I snapped "every single time, every single *time* you stopped and changed the way things should have been, did you really think things would remain like that forever? silly you, silly Emmet it was only matter of time before something went wrong, before *someone* changed their approach"
"well then Emmett," I said my voice becoming a whimper "if you wanted eternity, then eternity is what you shall receive"
I laughed out loud, mi voice resonating across the silent streets and alleyways, it was a cry that slowly descended into endless sobbing.
But no matter how loud I cried no one listened.
***
***
I wrote this on my phone.. Hopefully it came out understandable! | 2018-07-04T15:51:37 | 2018-07-04T13:38:26 | 4,562 | 278 |
[WP] If your death is imminent, time stops for everyone but you. This allowed you to cheat death on many occasions by avoiding all sorts of danger except for now - you have no idea whats threating your life. Its been a year since time stopped. | I started keeping my own personal time by counting cycles of my fingernails growing; I clipped them every three weeks before time stopped. Every time before, time stopped for only a short period. Once, it was a car swerving out of control, headed in my direction. Another, a crazed gunman at university. Once I had removed myself from the situation, everything returned to normal, with no one else any the wiser. This time was different; I've clipped my nails 17 times. Nearly a year, give or take, of time that I've spent alone in this world.
I still come home to you every night. There you are, never moving, with your favorite show on the television. It's paused on a scene I've come to memorize every pixel of. I take a seat next to you on the couch and pretend that you're here with me still.
You'd be surprised how clean the house stays when you aren't here. The trash doesn't pile up in the can or in every corner of the house. You'd be surprised how quiet the house is when you're gone. Instead of the daily screaming matches we would find ourselves in, the only thing I can hear is the sound of my own thoughts. The thing I find myself the most surprised by is the feeling of freedom that I have; I've left the house without an angry phone call. I don't have to worry you're going to show up at my work when I have to stay late. I've even went to see my parents a few times.
*Your eyes, though frozen in time, still held that fire that I loved so much. I noticed, however, that they were not fixated solely on the television like I had assumed all this time. They seemed to be glancing slightly to the left: the safe I kept my pistol in.* That's when I realized.
_________________
*Edited ending.* | "good morning, miss Anderson! What wonderful day this is huh? Just like yesterday and the day before!"
"why yes you're right mister Emmett today is a wonderful day just like yesterday and the day before!"
I grinned, I always had a crush on miss Anderson, the fact that I was talking to her so freely felt like a dream come true, there was no one who could get in my way, no one who could interrupt us, not her fucking husband nor other people.
It felt dirty
It felt unreal.
"Emmet, sweetie? Are you alright?"
*oh right, she always called me that... I didn't like it, it made me feel like she wasn't seeing me as a man but rather just a child*
"Emmet, are you alright?" I corrected her, yes that's better, that's what she should call me, just Emmett is fine.
"I always liked you miss Anderson" I said, my hands sweating.
"...I like you too... Emmet..." I said mimicking her voice. Her body remained unmoving, frozen. A feet in front of the other but never taking a step forward. I'd like to believe she was looking at me but I knew she was looking at nothing in particular.
"...I'm scared miss Anderson" I said " I'm so scared"
"please help me, tell me what should I do"
"tell me how... To get out of here..."
***
*it's just a matter of time*
I went out to my usual walks across the town, searching for something, something that could help me break out of this prison, but just like always, I find nothing. The snow falls from the sky but never reaches the ground.
"ah today is a wonderful day" I said "just like yesterday... and the day before..."
I kept walking. A year had passed since I stopped time and I still couldn't find the threat to my life, no matter how much I walked, no matter how much I looked around. Nothing changed, nothing ever changed.
I walked down a street whose name I could no longer remember, but my body always took me there, to the street where miss Anderson is. Talking to her was the only joy a had left
"hello miss Anderson, today is a wonderful day right? Just like yesterday, just like the day before..."
She didn't say anything.
"this is stupid" I said
"...you're stupid" I said to myself.
*what?*
"for how long did you think you could avoid death?" I snapped "every single time, every single *time* you stopped and changed the way things should have been, did you really think things would remain like that forever? silly you, silly Emmet it was only matter of time before something went wrong, before *someone* changed their approach"
"well then Emmett," I said my voice becoming a whimper "if you wanted eternity, then eternity is what you shall receive"
I laughed out loud, mi voice resonating across the silent streets and alleyways, it was a cry that slowly descended into endless sobbing.
But no matter how loud I cried no one listened.
***
***
I wrote this on my phone.. Hopefully it came out understandable! | 2018-07-04T14:24:46 | 2018-07-04T13:38:26 | 1,474 | 278 |
[WP] When you ask your daughter what she wants for Christmas, she asks for a unicorn. Your wife laughs it off, but you don't. Neither your wife or daughter know that you're the best monster trapper in the world, and your daughter is getting her unicorn no matter what. | "What do you want for Christmas Cupcake?" I asked.
She twisted her foot, how cute. I knew the answer of course, I had paid attention. She was absolutely enamored with unicorns, she's been drawing them for months, and has read every book in the library on the subject. Her pre-k teacher was amazed that she was powering through The Last Unicorn, despite having to stop every few words to ask what it means.
"I want a-," she let it linger for a good ten seconds, she was good with drama and being unquestionably adorable. "UNICORN!"
My wife laughed at the cuteness of it while she recorded the scene with her cellphone. I was proud of myself for already having prepared. They weren't easy to hunt, and I had to hide the equipment in the garage where my wife couldn't find it.
"It'll be pretty, and tall, and white, and it'll smell like ginger, and roses, and lavender," my little Cupcake described her ideal Unicorn while dancing a waltz in the middle of the den.
Later that night my wife lay in bed looking at unicorn toys on her phone.
"What about this one?" She asked.
"Does it smell like lavender?" I asked.
"Probably not," she said, "but I can always spray some essential lavender oil on it."
"Don't worry honey," I said, "I know exactly where to get the perfect one." And I did, though she didn't know about that part of my life. I figure it's time I tell them what I do on the side. What my whole family has done for generations. But I'm not going to just tell them at the dinner table, no, that never goes well. I'll show them.
I stood in the garage with my backpack on, and my mythical creature hunting clothes. When I touched the amethyst button my thick long sleeve shirt would turn from dull brown to a beautiful brilliant rainbow. Unicorns love rainbows, and it'll want stare at me which will give me precious seconds to snare it with my glitter blintz. I rolled the smokey quartz spheres in my hand, heating them up and activating the teleport smoke inside. You can't walk into a unicorns territory, it'll get your scent and stay far away from you. They can even track you through the lichen on the trees. Trees and unicorns are best friends. Which is why I brought a small tree in the backpack, so they'll think I'm one of them.
I threw down the smokey quartz crystals, they shattered, and the smoke enveloped me. Crystal teleporting was always weird. The smell was like a windy beach, tremendous pressure, goose bumps, then boom - you're there. I looked around and the forest was as familiar as ever. I walked up to a tree, and licked it. It tasted sweet. That's good, they think I'm one of them so I can move freely. It does't take long to spot the trail. A line of verdant green seedlings sprouting up from the ground. Unicorn droppings magically encourage plants to grow rapidly. The trail led east.
After walking a few hours I spotted the unicorn through the trees. It was licking a tree, just as I had done earlier. Then it turned and rubbed its butt on the tree, letting the tree taste it. The unicorn rubbed its butt on the tree for far longer than necessary. It's eyes rolled around in a horsy ecstasy, and it's back legs shuddered. With a pompous prance it sauntered away. I would have to give this thing a polite little lobotomy before I took it home. Don't want it getting all prissy violent with the family.
The cocky little prancer pranced right where I wanted him. I got my glitter blintz out, then got it's attention.
"Hey asshole!" They hated it when you're impolite. It turned and cocked it's head at me, right then I pressed the amethyst button and my shirt exploded with color. It was so bright that I winced and turned my head. It shook it's head, and started to walk away, but the rainbow extended past my outstretched arms. I shone like the rainbow bridge. Thor would have thought I was the way to Asgard. It walked up to me, transfixed by the colors. I activated the glitter blintz.
A glitter cloud erupted from the tip of the tube. It surrounded the unicorn, then landed on it's muscular body, then hardened. The unicorn couldn't move anymore. I watched my uncle screw this up once, and got gored by a unicorn.
"A UNICORN A UNICORN A UNICORN!!!!" My little Cupcake yelled over and over. She unicorn, which she named Darryl for some ineffable reason, gnawed on grass with a dull look in its eyes. They were usually very intelligent animals, but thanks to my grandmothers lobotomy kit this one was as dumb as an inbreed goat.
"Sweetie," my wife said not able to take her eyes off it, "where did you get this. . . um-"
"Unicorn, it's an honest to goodness unicorn," I said. "Let me get you some wine and I'll tell you a story."
​
​ | (I changed it to her wanting a reindeer, since I felt it fit the theme of Christmas/my story better.)
​
​
Marty awoke to the tickling chill of a gusting breeze. Floorboards creaked as the treehouse swayed, and moonlight probed through the window, sending shadows scampering into the corners.
Marty smiled slightly, his arm draped over Carol's shoulder. They had drifted off to sleep in the tree house, along with Carol's daughter—Marty's step-daughter, Grace. Christmas was coming again. Last year, the tree house itself had been Grace's gift.
This year, though, she'd been going on about wanting a reindeer. How Marty would find one of those, so close to the holiday was beyond him. But he wasn't one to give up without a fight. After all, his particular *skills* were suited for just such an assignment.
Last night, the small family had been sipping hot cocoa, and telling Christmas stories when they'd drifted off up here.
He lifted his arm from Carol and turned towards Grace's side of the boxcar.
His smile faded.
Grace was missing. She wasn't on the beanbag beneath the window where he'd left her. Her blankets were bunched up at the base of the window sill. Marty thought of how Grace had been acting last night. Normally she spent Christmas Eve asking for all sorts of extra presents and goodies stuffed in her stocking. Last night, though, she'd only asked for one thing: a reindeer. Beyond that, she hadn't seemed to want anything else.
There was a thud suddenly, from the direction of the house, followed by mumbled sound of words through wood. Marty didn't recognize the voice. His skin prickled and felt suddenly very cold.
Marty struggled to his feet and raced to the trapdoor. He slid down the ladder into the backyard, and sprinted towards the screen door. It was open a crack. He hotfooted into the living room, where the fireplace was located, fists raised. Then, he spotted the source of the commotion.
Grace was there, which allowed Marty to relax, but only for a moment until he spotted the room's other occupant.
A large, red-suited person with a long white beard was lying on the ground, rolling about and growling. Marty noted that this person's hands were tied, and their feet were ensnared by a lasso dangling form the ceiling. A lasso that belonged in Marty's monster hunting gear.
“Grace, what is this?” Marty said slowly, staring at the unusual scene. “Who is this guy?”
Grace turned sharply at his voice. She hesitated for a moment, caught somewhere between guilt and pride, but then his six year old step daughter beamed and flashed a thumbs up. “Look Marty,” she said, pointing at the dangling genie. “I caught Santa!”
It took Marty nearly ten seconds to comprehend what she was saying. “You...” he stared at Grace. “You...” His gaze shifted to the red-suited, large genie.
He glanced at the sack on the floor, just inside he glimpsed wrapping paper and bows.
“His reindeer and sleigh are outside,” said Grace, pointing towards the front door.
Marty stared for another ten seconds as everything started crashing in. He actually reached down and pinched himself. It hurt. Not a dream then.
His wife's daughter had captured Santa Claus.
She had shown an interest in his work that hadn't been there before over the last couple of weeks. Now, he knew why. “How did you capture that phoenix in Brussels?” she had asked. “How do you snare something with legs, without hurting it?” He'd answered her questions, flattered that she'd been taking an interest in his unusual career. Now, though, he wished he hadn't said a word.
“Grace?” Marty said, unable to keep the incredulity from his tone. *“WHY* did you trap Santa?”
Grace shrugged. “I want one of his reindeer."
“You want one of his...” Marty just trailed off, staring at his step daughter in disbelief.
“He has twelve,” Grace said, defensively. “He can spare one. They're always dragging his big heavy sleigh around in the sky. I bet they're scared and frightened half the time. Imagine only being let out of the North Pole once a year. They have to fly all over the world in *one* night,” Grace said, glaring at the upside down genie. “It's a mercy none of them die!”
“You're trying to liberate a reindeer?" said Marty, unable to completely believe the words coming from his own mouth. “That's why you kidnapped Santa?”
At this point, Santa Claus began kicking and thrashing, causing the rope anchoring him to the ceiling to spin around. Santa's beard was obscuring his face for the most part, but Marty caught a glimpse of a pudgy nose and flushed cheeks.
“Grace, let him down,” Marty said sternly. “Now.”
Grace crossed her arms across her small chest.
“I'm serious, or I'll go wake your mother!”
“She's snoring and drank the stuff in the small bottle last night,” said Grace defiantly. “You won't be able to.”
This was true. Carol had sampled the sherry last night. Waking her would be a true pain in the keister. By the look of things, though, Marty had more than one pain to worry about.
Marty frowned and strode across the kitchen to peer out the window towards the tree house. There was no movement. Also, parked against the back fence was something he hadn't notice in his haste to enter the house: a majestic, intricately crafted sleigh, complete with gold trim designs and bells. Also, there were twelve reindeer harnessed to the sleigh who were grazing and drinking from the coy pond. The back of the sleigh was weighed down with sacks upon sacks of presents.
Marty stared again, the whole thing was just so surreal. He shook his head slightly and turned back to the kitchen.
“Look,” he said, “The reindeer look happy. See, that one at the front with the big red nose--”
“His name is Rudolph,” said Grace.
“Yes, well, exactly. Rudolph is eating grass. He's happy. Now let Santa down. I'll get you your own for Christmas. I thought you wanted a unicorn anyway.”
(continued in replies, it got kind of long.)
​
***
​
If you liked that, you might like more at r/josephdanielauthor | 2018-12-07T17:57:45 | 2018-12-07T14:47:06 | 92 | 23 |
[WP] When you ask your daughter what she wants for Christmas, she asks for a unicorn. Your wife laughs it off, but you don't. Neither your wife or daughter know that you're the best monster trapper in the world, and your daughter is getting her unicorn no matter what. | She stared befuddled at her gift as the first flakes of Christmas snow gracefully fell just outside the window. The fire danced, and cracked and only the ticking of the clock made any other noise for what seemed like an eternity.
“No, honestly dad... what is this?”
He saw the inner workings of his daughter’s mind trying to grasp what lay before her.
“I promised you I would bring you one, and a promise is a promise my little bear. Merry Christmas”
“But dad I don’t get it...” she continued to look at the single kernel her father had carefully wrapped in the most precious of boxes.
“It’s a Uni Corn my love”
“Daaaaaaaaaaddddd” | I hate catching monsters. The work is grueling and dangerous, plus the job gets no respect, but it pays damn well and I'm good at it. So when my daughter stood there, begging me for another Unicorn, I thought, "No. Not again."
My wife began to giggle. "Now Britney, you already have two sweetheart. Are you sure you really need a third?"
"But it's Christmas, and you guys said I could choose any present I wanted!", Britney exclaimed as her face began to turn bright red. I was about to make up some bullshit excuse and tell her we couldn't afford another unicorn but then it dawned on me, the day, it's Cyber Monday.
My eyes lit up. I had seen an ad for those fuckers for 50% off the other day and boy do I have a great credit score. I mean, I'm the world's best monster catcher, but nothing compares to my credit score. It doesn't matter who you ask, FICO, Experian, Equifax, they will all tell you the same thing; my credit score is flawless.
Without a word, I reached my hand around to my back pocket and swiftly pulled out my wallet, holding it up for everyone to see. You could see the reflection of the overhead lights glistening off the cool black leather in Britney's wide eyes. I motioned her towards me; she knew the drill. She walked over, opened my wallet, and revealed a blue American Express card.
"Not that one princess. The Amazon one. You see, if I use the Amazon one, your dad gets 5% cash back on his purchase."
She nodded, grabbed the Amazon card and took out her IPhone XS Max and proceeded to open the Amazon app.
She looked up from her phone a moment later and asked, "Can I get same day shipping please?"
"Of course you can honey. Of course you can." | 2018-12-07T18:55:04 | 2018-12-07T17:22:38 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] New technology allows courts to extract the memories from suspects to prove their guilt or innocence. The suspect permanently loses that memory. Conviction rates are nearly flawless. But no-one in jail knows why they are there... | If the punishment should fit the crime,
I swear to God: I would do no time.
I know you say I killed them dead,
But I hold no memory in my head.
I stood in court for all to witness,
I bared my heart, my mind, my sickness.
Said the judge, "There's just one way,"
"To prove your whereabouts on that day."
They can extract the memories from your mind,
But they cannot leave anything behind.
I thought for sure, they'll find nothing here.
And I will be on my way, nothing severe.
I went to sleep and when I woke,
It seemed to me my mind was broke.
My memory is plagued by this hole,
But I assure you I never hurt a soul.
I know you say I killed them dead,
But I have no memory in my head. | The guard smiles. Blood drips from my mouth from where he hit me. "That'll teach you," he sneers, uncuffing me and shoving me into the tiny, isolated cell. The door slams shut. Alone, in the dark with my thoughts all I can keep thinking is, *Teach me what? What did I do?*
___
"Jeannie, calm down."
As soon as the words left the man's mouth, there was an internal groan from everyone around the conference table that was almost palpable. Everyone knew that if you wanted Jeannette Parker to calm down, the *worst* thing to do was to actually *tell* her to calm down.
Jeannie flared, throwing her shoulders back, cheeks flushing and eyes flashing as she leaned forward to stare the man down. "I will *not."*
He shrank back in his seat, eyes swiveling around for help, and finding nothing but coworkers that were suddenly preoccupied with their notes. Swallowing, he turned back to those sharp, green eyes that chipped slowly away at his ego, and nodded.
Triumphant, she straightened and continued on with her previous point: "This system isn't working. Prison is supposed to *rehabilitate* people. But how can these prisoners be rehabilitated if they don't even know what they did in the first place?"
It was a good question. Everyone shared looks, but no one had any good answers.
Undaunted, she grabbed some papers off the table and waved them in the air. "Has anyone read these? A majority of the prisoners who are released go on to commit the *same crime* that they were convicted of in the first place!"
"So," one courageous man said, "what do you want to do? The way it's set up now guarantees that no innocent people are sent to jail. I think that's a small price to pay. And," he added quickly, "in the old system, it wasn't like it was working so well, either. Criminals are criminals. It's in their DNA."
She smiled. "Exactly."
___
| 2019-02-01T12:28:57 | 2019-02-01T06:53:08 | 86 | 31 |
[WP]: The most sought woman in the town has announced that she will marry whoever can open her door with the key around her cats neck. Many have tried to catch, trap and hunt down the cat, who always escapes. You are the first to figure out they've all been doing this all wrong. |
I listened to her announcement, unable to keep the grin off of my face by the time she was done. I realized that I was going to start laughing. That would probably ruin the mood. I barely made it away in time.
Catch her cat. And thus, win her hand in marriage. It sounds difficult, even at the surface. Everyone knows that cats are difficult to catch, even the regular, plain old boring kind.
When you’re one of the most powerful mages in *literally* history, you don’t the boring kind. Speaking of which, I needed to go feed him. He was definitely a picky eater. That’s why I worked there…or at least that’s what I told myself.
I set his meal down in front of him, “A steak? I know that I make a good steak, but you haven’t asked for one since we got a copy of that cookbook from Ileria.”
He blinked at me, nice and slow – and then started to eat the steak with enthusiasm. I smiled; he wanted to talk. “You’re easy to read, you know that Arvelis? You like them very rare, and you’re eating too quickly to really savor it.”
He sat up, pausing to lap at his goblet of wine. He was purring. “You heard what she said? That her suitors would have to catch the key around my neck in order to win her hand.”
I nodded, began cleaning up from the meal. Arvelis liked to eat in his private kitchen, claimed to enjoy watching the process. It definitely wasn’t because he was teaching me how to cook.
“So, who has she picked and how long are you going to maintain the ruse?”
He chuffed – it made his cheeks puff up, so cute – “She says a month. Maybe two.”
“And who’s the lucky guy?”
His eyes narrowed, “She made me promise not to tell anyone.”
The time passed quickly and, sur*prise*, nobody caught Arvelis. A fair few tried – like all cats he valued his freedom too much to hide inside – and the persistent ones were reminded that cats have claws. People tried bribery, flattery, gifts of food and drink, and one crazy bastard that was stupid enough to jump on his back from a tree. Although I guess he technically got closer than anyone else.
Another steak – we had been on dwarven cooking; Incredibly delicate - I guess Arvelis had finally had enough of wearing that necklace.
“So, who is it?”
He yanked the key from his neck and tossed it to me. And then started eating.
I looked at it and blinked. “Y-You’re kidding right?”
He purred, still eating.
It was heavier than I thought it would be. I dropped it on the table, next to his plate. “No.”
Arvelis went dead quiet. “What? What do you mean No?”
“I mean no. N-o. Indicates a negative response – dude who taught you English?”
He tried to laugh and choke at the same time. Not a pleasant sound from a cat. “How can you say no? You know the reason why you work here is because she’s been crushing on you since you were both 4.”
I sighed. “Yeah. I know, and I know she’s afraid to tell me because she doesn’t want to ruin our friendship.”
“But surely you feel the same way? I know for a fact that you’ve refused the advances of every woman that ever approached you, which I recall being more than handful.”
I shifted uncomfortably. “That doesn’t mean that I want to marry her. Or date her. Or being anything other than her friend.”
His jaw fell. “B-but, what-how? How can you not feel that way about her? I’ve never seen closer friends.”
I shrugged, shuffled my feet. “Well, I’ve always gotten that sister vibe from her. She’s family – could you marry your sister?”
He shuddered, fur puffing out for a half-second, “Gods no! I’m sorry, though it just seems like it’s always been how things would go. It’s not your fault, but she’s going to be crushed.”
I shrugged, feeling awkward. “Should I tell her, or do you want to do it?”
He sighed, “Want to do it together?” | I didn't realize what I was doing when I did it.
That's not to say I didn't know who she was. Everybody in town knew about Isabella. Her flowing black hair, creamy white skin, and brilliant green eyes captured the hearts of almost every man in town, including my own. But let's be real, what chance did I have with her? While I was far from ugly, I wasn't exactly the most handsome guy in town. Besides, every time I try to talk to a woman, I struggle to not bite my own tongue off. A woman like Isabella was way out of my league, a fool could tell.
But I do love cats.
I had gone outside that morning, like any other day, just to grab my mail. But sleeping at the base of the cold metal box's wooden support was just the most adorable cat I'd ever seen. He had short, light gray fur, with black stripes running vertically across his body. I carefully crouched down in front of him, and his piercing yellow eyes fluttered open.
"Hey, little buddy," I said, "are you lost?" I tucked the mail into my pocket and held out my arms, and he slowly climbed up into them.
"Come with me, you must be starving." I carried him up my driveway, over to my door, when suddenly I saw another man running after me. He was moving a little too fast for me to get a clear picture, but I could tell he was bigger and stronger than me, easily. He stopped right in front of me, and stared at the cat.
"Um, can I help you?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said, "I've been looking all over town for that cat. I really appreciate you helping me out."
"Oh, this is your cat?"
"Um... yeah. Yeah, he's my cat. Isn't that right, boy?" he reached out to pet the cat, but was met with a quick hiss.
"You sure this is the right cat?"
"Yeah, yeah, he's just a little... fighty." Something about this guy rubbed me the wrong way. I didn't want to assume his intentions, but I also didn't want to risk giving this poor cat to the wrong guy.
"What's his name?" I asked.
"Um... Mr. Whiskers." I took a look at the tag on the cat's collar, which was hung from the same ring as a house key. Engraved into the polished white metal was the name "Leo".
"Yeah, I think you have the wrong cat. His name is Leo."
"That can't be right, I could've sworn tha-"
"Look, what's this all about?" I said, cutting off his now-obvious lie.
"It's a little complicated, just please give him to me. I know his owner."
"I... think I'll return him myself, thanks." I carried Leo with me into my house. As soon as I'd shut my door, he began to bang as loud as he could on it. I ignored it as I scooped a can of tuna fish into my old cat food bowl. After about an hour, he seemed to get the message and left.
​
"214 Lancelot Lane," I said as I compared the number on the house with the address on the tag, "Looks like we found your home." Leo huddled closer to me as I stared for a moment at the house before me. The roof sloped and curved in fascinating ways, and every wall of the house was made almost entirely of glass, with silver columns between the panes. However, there was no way to see inside, for there were blinds down in every window. I walked up to the door and knocked, but there was no answer.
"Excuse me," I said, "I found your cat."
"Then open the door." an angelic voice said through the door. I shrugged and reached out to turn the handle: locked. I was about to call out again, when I remembered Leo's collar. I gently felt around, and found the key on his collar. I slid it off of the ring, and tried it in the lock.
It was a perfect fit.
With a twist of the barrel, the doorknob opened up, and who was standing on the other side but Isabella. Leo practically leaped out of my arms and into hers.
"You've done such a great job." she said, "How did you catch him?"
"Well, I just found him lying beside my mailbox," I explained, "I figured he was lost, probably hungry, so I offered to feed him and help him find his way back home. It wasn't much, honestly."
"Not much of a chaser, I see." she said as she released Leo into the house.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Everyone's out there, chasing whatever it is they want. You, on the other hand, you just see what needs to be done, and you do it."
"Yeah, I guess."
"Too many chasers in the world these days, not enough helpers. You? You're a helper."
"Um... thanks. Listen, I should be heading home."
"Already? Don't you want to claim your prize?"
"My prize?"
"You completed the challenge."
"What challenge?"
"I promised a special reward to whoever found Leo for me."
"And... what... would that be?" Instead of responding, Isabella pulled me in close, and kissed me.
​
After that day, Leo was just as much my cat as he was Isabella's, and the three of us lived happily ever after. | 2019-05-01T17:00:57 | 2019-05-01T16:48:20 | 68 | 45 |
[WP] You're the unappreciated intern for a famous group of Superheroes. Your power? You can boil water. All you do is make tea for them while they laugh and drink in their hideout. Little do they know that you've got dreams of becoming the Worst Villain ever. After all, a human is over 70% water... | Perception can screw with your dreams. When I was young and Naive, I wanted to be a superhero. I wanted to save the day, help little old ladies across the street and help others. The first roadblock to that dream was my powers. I can input enough thermal energy to boil water (although, I theorize with practice, I could boil more thermally resistant substances) and that alone got my ass kicked a few times by the local bully, especially since the power itself isn't very flashy. But the last words my mom ever told me were to be strong and to not return violence with violence. For 15 years I've kept my head down, studied, worked out and trained my abilities in the hope that I could change the world for someone like me.
The final nail in the coffin for my dream, was when I was accepted into a Hero Internship. We've all been told that heroes are the paragon of justice and equality in the world, righting wrongs that local law enforcement and governments just can't. But I've seen the truth. These heroes are nothing more than spoiled children with extraordinary abilities and they're.... just wasting them and using them to hurt others. Octave, a sound-based hero leveled an apartment building during a battle with a d-list villain. I later found out that Octave was trying to egg him on, and that the villain's wife and kids were in that apartment building.
Every time I attempted to call upon the members of hero society I though were the true shining stars, they sucked out the light of hope with quick and galling efficiency. This is my confession. On October the 17th, and 1:00 P.M CST, I entered my workplace in one of the Hero HQs. My first target was Fortress, the Durable hero. His crime: extortion, assault and murder of several local business people under the guise of asking for protection money. It was simple really, and I exploited a certain.... interesting quirk with thermodynamics. You see, if you impart enough thermal energy in one particular area quickly enough, it will explode. From the outside, it looked as if he had died of an aneurysm.
I.. I couldn't stop. Vitreon, with the power to turn objects into a glass-like facsimile of that same object, was the first to catch on. I boiled the water in her eyes to the point that they looked like seared mussels. A fitting punishment, considering all of the bystanders and falsely accused criminals she mutilated and blinded. The pain alone should have knocked her out, but she fired a wave of glass out at the last second. I was able to hide behind Fortress' corpse, and the glass impaled Dr. Gas. His ability to turn himself gaseous had allowed him to slip out of tricky spots and suffocate opponents before, but luckily, he was caught off guard and died from blood loss. I couldn't stop. Every hero I saw, I remembered what they had done to the people they were supposed to protect.
I am an inevitable byproduct of a community of demigods unchecked by themselves. If you are a hero and have done these acts and worse to anyone, especially the innocent people who depend on you, I am coming for you. This is not an isolated incident. This is a catalyst. | I like tea, coffee too. I actually know a lot about either. If you asked me to explain the difference between a latte and a macchiato, I could do that. If you asked me what the difference between the taste of rose petals and rosebuds in tea, I could do that too. I could hold a lecture all about the *vast* difference between a cold brew and iced coffee that NO ONE seems to care about anymore, but that's a topic for another day.
I'm a superhero. Well, not really a hero mind you, more of just a super. Unless constantly making coffee counts as a heroic deed.
Five years ago, Hayden McIlroy put up a flier. Superheroes were emerging, and he wanted them. McIlroy made the Heros For Anthem City Program, aka the H.F.A.C. A program for local heroes to gather and do stuff. No one knows really what they were doing at the start, but they were doing *something* because heroes with titles came around. And they had sidekicks. The Swift told me that in the beginning, the best of the best became "Title Hero's". McIlroy paid for them to be marketed. Names like Diamond Maiden and Thunderman. They got the cool outfits, they got the theme songs and comic books. The weaker Title Heroes had sidekicks, like Vulpes Lupus, Shark, and most every other hero out there. If you had cool powers, then you were paid to be a villain. No killing or horrible damage, just a show. Take a volunteer hostage and threaten them or something to entertain the people.
And the others? Just like me. No special names. We just go around and run errands. If you're a hero fanatic, you'd know all the Title Heros and sidekicks that work for H.F.A.C. But not us, not me.
The Swift seems to be the only hero who respects us. I'd call her by her real name, but she said it died a long time ago. She said she was like me, young with new powers and no idea what to do. She came to H.F.A.C. after some young villain had killed her family. It was an actual villain, not one of the flimsy shows McIlroy paid for. They put her in my spot.
I don't know how she did it, though. She was a nameless nobody. Some teenager who could do a few flips like the rest of us. But somehow she makes a nemesis of the only villain out there who isn't being paid by H.F.A.C. Tyto Noctis.
No one was making comics about him. No one was waiting to see what his next evil plan would be. Anthem City feared him, like, actually feared him. No one wanted to touch him but a stupid teenager. Tyto Noctis and The Swift go missing for six months and she returns a Title Hero, Tyto trailing at her heels like he's on some sort of leash. Both apparently unable to be killed.
She tells me I can make my way up the ladder just like she did, I just need to work hard. I respect The Swift, but I'm nothing like her.
Tyto Noctus was a failure. He was defeated by a flimsy teenager. I'm not like The Swift, sure, but I'm not like Tyto either. I'm not like the Title Heroes and sidekicks that snicker when they pound their empty cups on my desk when they beg and plead for hotter tea, mocking me. I'm not like Hayden McIlroy and his obsession with collecting heroes.
The pipes will be struck first, scalding anyone who even thinks of turning the faucet on. Then slowly the water towers, I'll watch their pressure rise with anticipation. Then, weather permitting, the rain. Anyone who even dares to live then will just have to have their organs deliciously steamed from the inside-out.
I am The Boiler, and I'm the only real villain Anthem City is going to ever see.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
thank you for reading! critisims is appreciated :D
<3<3<3
\-froppy | 2019-07-30T17:17:27 | 2019-07-30T16:15:31 | 40 | 29 |
[WP] You were colorblind most of your life until you received laser eye surgery. But something went wrong, and now you can see new colors most people would think of as gray. Everything was great until you noticed every gray surface in the city was graffitied with the "gray" message, "Look for us." | Look for us, in the muddled puddles on dirty alleyways. Dirt swirls around the edges of still water. Flies lap at the surface and linger for a moment. Golden sunlight burns it all away until mud is dust and dust is tossed in the wind. But for a fleeting moment, the puddle complies, splashing underfoot.
Look for us, in the crowded subway. Look under the flickering fluorescents. Watch the shadows flicker over dirty graffiti and remember when the wall was freshly painted. Recall the odor of camphor and latex covering the brick walls with hues of reddish-brown. Droplets streak down the sides and drip onto the concrete floor, and there you can find us, unwanted.
Hear us, in the buzzing static of telephone lines. Termites gnaw at the pole and pepper holes in its side. The exterminator approaches in his white-suit and respirator, crunching grass aside. Today is the last day for the termites—nothing but empty sockets and quiet nests where life once flourished. But the termites couldn’t know. How would they know?
Smell us, in burning candlewax on a birthday cake. The black-and-white polaroid can never fully capture the moment. The joy. Excitement. Chocolate is decadent and sweet but fleeting, and only icing shavings and crumbs remain. The balloons lose their helium to slow diffusion. Find us in their quiet descent.
Taste us, in the thick summer air. Rain and worms both taste of renewal. But even still, the warm air leaves on a starry night—a thousand glimmering wishes unfulfilled. Taste the sweet water on your tongue from the frog-pond and the lily pads. Remember the taste, for in its youthful memory you will find us.
Look for us, in the quiet moments of your life. Sip coffee on a front porch and stare longingly at the paint chips on the fence. It needs a fresh coat but will never get one. Look for us in yearbook photos and handwritten recipe books, as you remember old family reunions with picnic tables and horseshoes.
If you look long enough, you will find us. And we will show you what is here, and what was there, and what is to come. We will teach you the price of a pile of dust.
Look for us, and remember, and never forget.
***
More stories at r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | The colors were vibrant, blinding even. strange and indescribable, the strangest thing about it though. Were the messages, often times accompanied by arrows pointing ever whichaway, I ignored them for a while. But eventually my curiosity got the better of me and I followed them, Oh I followed them deep into parts of the city that nobody had seen in years, I followed them down secret hatches and through massive tunnel complexes, each day returning and probing further and further down. I at last found the end of the tunnels, a dead end. I was about to give up when I saw a new message on the ceiling 'So close' I then plunged into the search with newfound resolve. Tearing through libraries archives to find answers, Going so far as to visit the national archives to attempt to find something. I finally did find an answer. In the hands of a man named Francis Paul Tulipana. He was old, around eighty seven years of age. And I could see, he would have had grey eyes. In their place though, were constantly shifting colors. From him I received a small book, a pat on the shoulder and a few words "closer than you think my friend. And I know more than I will ever tell you, Its up to you now". After that he went back inside his house and I never saw him again, The book was full of notes and maps. when pieced together led me to a small lonely shack on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. The door opened easily, and inside were a myriad of symbols, words, images, and one table with a small box. Inside was a not that read
&#x200B;
Well done. If you are reading this, most likely you have traveled far. And have many questions as to who we are, and why we have left the messages. For centuries your people have followed the laws of the universe well. Warlords have risen and fallen, empires have been built and destroyed. You have advanced far beyond all others, but for one factor. You are blind to the reality which surrounds you, your world has been infected, and yet you cannot see it. You, the one who is reading this. You have the ability, the power. to SEE the infection, the corruption, and the evil which has sown itself into your world. Who are we? We are those like you. We are those who can see, and we grow in number every day. You can find us at the house of our original member, you met him before. Though he will not be there when you return, nobody has seen him for ages, but the ones who are searching always seem to come across him at some point or another. Come, and join us. The ones who have pledged to purge this world from the evil that corrodes it. Join us, the Judicum.
Videmus verum
I stood up, everything made sense. The gibberish scrawled on the walls, the messages hidden everywhere, everything made sense. When I exited the house, it was ringed by a mass of people, all hooded and cloaked in deep green cloaks with accents of gold, One stepped up to me and removed his hood and mask, sweeping his cloak back he revealed an ornate longsword, which he drew and placed the flat of upon my shoulder. He stared me in the eye with his, horribly scarred from a surgery gone wrong and spoke in latin "Ego sum laetus video vidi visum a te adcurrentium. I nodded, and followed the stranger. I knew what had to be done, and why. Hell had pushed its borders too far into the reaches of the overworld, and it was high time he was pushed back. | 2020-03-16T17:52:41 | 2020-03-16T17:33:48 | 1,050 | 197 |
[WP] Every spacefaring species has something that makes them special. Some are fast, some have telekinesis, some are nigh-unkillable. To the galaxy's surprise, humans have a tendency to befirend the cosmic horrors lurking where the starlight does not reach. | Evolution and war interact in funny ways.
&#x200B;
It seemed like every interstellar species had it's own specialty, and it seemed that way for a reason. The Arvayu Telepaths guarded their power jealously - any telepathic species entering the galactic stage was quickly subdued, modified and enslaved, or otherwise destroyed utterly. The Amoebic Hivemind outbred almost every living thing in the galaxy, sentient or not, and quite literally absorbed whatever approached the highest amount of biomass it could find. The Silurian Mongers, a sort of reptilian allegory, was thoroughly steeped in destroying any single thing it could find that posed a physical threat - and that mindset grew to encompass naval power as well.
&#x200B;
Between all of the various species, there was a kind of uneasy peace - the Arvayu didn't particularly relish the idea of fighting the Amoebics, the Silurians didn't appreciate how the Arvayu turned them against themselves,, and the circle went on. Dozens of species with their own little niche, never quite at peace but never quite coming to blows.
&#x200B;
Enter Humanity. We never really had a specialty - we certainly didn't breed fast enough to interest the Amoebics, and most of the other species either saw us as children, food, or a pest. Diplomatically we ingratiated ourselves just enough to get involved in trade talks, but our inter-factional wars spoke volumes about how that wasn't really our thing, either.
&#x200B;
We simply are. And after a time, the other species began to question that - how could a species with no real outstanding strength continue to survive? Even though we usually opted to take the least desirable stars for colonization, why were we allowed to exist as a free-standing entity in the first place?
&#x200B;
The Silurians, predictably, were the first ones to test us. Multiple systems fell in the first few months - we were utterly dominated. Soon, more of the galactic community wanted a piece of the feast. Without something drastic, Humanity was as good as extinct.
&#x200B;
It was then that we found out what our specialty was. Well, is, I guess.
&#x200B;
The UHWS Starblinder was the first ship to encounter one of the Dark. We'd been warned in the past, of course, that a Dark was invariably a death sentence for anyone who disturbed it, so we'd elected not to test those particular waters. The other species had maps of the territory occupied by these monsters, and gave them a wide berth - often, if a ship went missing, it was assumed that a Dark had either moved into that territory or simply manifested there - nobody really seemed to know anything about their biology, because, well...everything that encountered them just stopped being. Return telemetry from probes was rarely coherent, but confirmed that there were *things* out there that didn't appreciate sharing their space.
&#x200B;
The captain of the Starblinder was the one who showed us all what we are. We're utterly relentless, and in the face of defeat, we'll happily run into the bony arms of Death in order to take a last swing.
&#x200B;
The Dark, as a rule it seems, appreciate chaos. In us, they found a species so utterly unpredictable and varied that they felt a kind of kinship. Well...not kinship. I think they think of us more as pets than anything else.
&#x200B;
They found out someone kicked their dog.
&#x200B;
Hundreds of the Dark caused the empires of the galaxy to erupt in flames in a matter of weeks. It wasn't a war of extermination - frankly, calling it a war would be giving it too much. It was a downright slaughter, and while most of the species in the galaxy survived in some fashion, the majority of the major population centers had been glassed, "eaten", or simply shattered.
&#x200B;
We enjoy a lot more freedom these days. The galaxy is rebuilding, and it was determined that we should get a seat at the table. Funny how that happens. We don't hear much of anything from the Dark, because really what pet understands their master? Our colonies in Dark territory are communication enough - "You, we'll tolerate. You, we'll defend." | \[- the Kuiper Transmission has confirmed a lack of any signals since first contact, and the United Fleetworks are now in proceedings to declare the Rio Grande Voyage lost with all hands. We would like to observe the names and faces of the voyagers who sailed out into the stars, on a mission of optimism and peace which shall not be-\]
“Mute the feed.”
Chief Voyager Jennings sunk back in his harness as the screen continued to play, silently; every one of those names and faces scrolled past his unseeing gaze, replaced in mind by the people of his own fleet.
First contact had failed. Again.
Once, the galaxy had been compared to a dark forest filled with mystery and terror. Where were the aliens? Hiding from all the other aliens. The reason we hadn’t noticed any was because they were deliberately keeping quiet. Had to stay quiet, or be at the mercy of the galactic night.
Turns out Earth just hadn’t been on the right radio. Filter the right space phenomena through the right algorithms with the right new equipment, and suddenly aliens were shouting their existence all over the place. Planetary origins, ship movements, everything was there. It was an exciting time for space travel, in the beginning. Jennings still had the old recordings of his grandmother as a young woman, smiling proud with her team in front of the spaceship they’d built. It was going to be a new age.
It was a cosmic joke. A galaxy full of sapient species talking to each other ...because they were all threats. Earth, for all its dangers, was a positive oasis of peace compared to the conditions that apparently bred sapience. Humanity hadn’t just missed the comms, they’d missed the attitude. Every pre-arranged signal meeting? Ambush. Every ship? Armed to the teeth. Every first contact? Death and destruction. The species they met had seemed to thrive on the act of competition and combat, and so far they’d found humanity wanting.
Nevertheless, humanity persisted. Jennings persisted, too. As Chief of the Orinoco Voyage, he had to. And that was why he was out here.
That was why they were out \*here\*, to a cold system with no name around a nearly-dead star. The system where comms had picked up a message, repeating since...well, since entirely too long. A message that had never been responded to by any of the numerous alien species who should have rushed to greet and fight it’s originators.
A message that, as far as the Orinoco Voyage could tell, was simply: \[I’m here.\]
Jennings had disliked it the moment the fleet entered: there were debris fields made from no natural comet, the desiccated remains of artificial structures upon the few planetary bodies in the system, and what looked like a half-built Dyson sphere around the sun. Something \*had\* been here, once, at least. It had apparently liked cobweb-like structures of dark stone. And spirals.
“We got a response from the signal, Chief. And...you’d better look at the main visuals. Something’s moving”. Jennings strained against his harness to stand up as he switched feeds. Verification. Whoever was behind the signal had received theirs, for it had copied the message back and then repeated itself.
First contact was a delicate matter...even more delicate, these days. No sudden moves. They’d gone through the usual protocols: bursts of encoded data imitating the signaler’s own message, then a few more bursts of data Jennings half-remembered as proof of sapience and...goodwill? By this point, it was more of a plea: \[please don’t hurt us\]. Something was moving out there, against the face of the sun. It was not a ship. His face paled as foreboding crept down his spine.
Something unimaginably vast and ancient sloughed itself from the ruins of the Dyson sphere. Something that crept in waves of glistening pseudopods, that lifted and spiraled until it seemed like an oil spill the size of a star, emerging from its shell to drift toward the Voyage. Something that needed no ship to travel the stellar void, no ship to communicate with, no ship to see the face of the newcomers to its home. The oil spill entity crackled with radiation.
\[I’m here. I’m here. I’m here. You're here. You're here. You're here.\]
It waited. The Orinoco Voyage waited. In all previous instances of first contact every recovered feed indicated combat was engaged moments after confirmation of location.
Seconds later, the entity seemed to ripple. It flashed a signal. A second, longer signal. And then, almost like a feed in reverse, it drifted backwards to the Dyson Sphere; where, with as little warning as it had emerged, it sunk back down to rest.
It took Jennings some time to breathe. Longer to blink. Even longer to move. There was a dim sound, in his ears - of comms relays sounding, voices on the other end straining to tell him of the news, of the data received by their ships, of the sheer quantity of information that would become in time recognized as the compressed history of a long-dead species whose creations slumbered and dreamt in the dark and lonely corners of the cosmos, of the relief at their survival.
But Jennings could focus on none of that. Only that he was alive. The Orinoco Voyage was alive. They had met the alien, and they had not fired, and the alien had not fired...
Successful First Contact.
\~\~\~\~\~
I like these kind of stories, even I'm terrible at telling them. Eldritch friends are great stuff :V | 2021-04-07T20:15:45 | 2021-04-07T19:38:37 | 2,301 | 558 |
[WP] There's a door with a single key hole - it will open regardless of what key is used. All keys open this door, but what's on the other side, however, entirely depends on the key. | No one knows where the Door came from. Only that it's been there as long as anyone can remember. Throughout your youth, the Door remained firmly in your consciousness. For, come your twenty-fifth birthday, it was your turn to open it. All your life was spent searching for the proper key.
For the Door was locked, perpetually. No one could open it without a key. But oddly, any key would turn the lock. Within, it was said, was your fate. Your future. Everything you would be from that point on.
For some, the Door opened to a room full of money. More cash than they could possibly spend in their lifetimes. Piles upon piles of cold hard cash, enough to buy anything you wanted. Those people tended to become businessmen and women, building the world's finances for profit. Hiring someone that opened the door to money came with risk; they often would step right over top of you as they moved further ahead in the world of business if you weren't careful.
For others, it swung wide to a well-stocked hospital room. Bandages, antibiotics, even medicines new to the world – all within the room beyond. Those people often became well-renowned doctors or nurses, and hospitals across the globe would hire anyone that opened that particular room without hesitation.
For still others, the Door would reveal food. Feed crops, vegetables and fruits, overflowing the room the moment the Door was opened. The farmers of the world, these folks would become. Within a few seasons, the seeds from within would always be the heartiest, healthiest, tastiest produce of the generation.
As for me? Today is my twenty-fifth birthday, and it's my turn to open the Door. One issue - I have no key. I spent the majority of my youth in and out of detention centers. I am what's known as a "blemish to society." Born to parents that neither wanted me or anything to do with me, I spent most of my life on the streets, surviving the only way I knew how.
No one expects much of anything to be behind the Door when I open it. Nor do I, if I'm honest with myself. I've only been out of prison now – petty larceny, nothing extreme, but after you get enough minor stuff under your belt, the sentences get longer – for only a few weeks. I've not had time to even think about getting a key.
The sole reason I even came to the Door ceremony is due to the urging of my Grandma. She's been the only one that's ever been there for me, all these years. When I had nowhere else to sleep, her couch was always open. Never a word was said about my life beyond her doors; she knew, I'm sure, but knew enough to not pry. No, it's only due to her goodwill that I'm even alive at this point.
"Go to the Door," she said, almost pleadingly. "Just try it. Who knows? You might even like what you find."
I could feel the eyes of the world looking down on me as I approached the Door. I did not belong here. Trash like me did not deserve to open the future. Plus, without a key, what was a moron like me even thinking?
Trembling, I reached toward the Door. Any moment now, I'd feel the catch, my future coming to a laughably, inescapable sad end. To my shock, only a slight 'click' echoed among the stunned onlookers as the Door opened for me.
No key. No personal growth or development to my past. But most importantly, no KEY. The Door should never have opened for me. And yet, to everyone's amazement – including my own – the Door crept open with hardly a creak of ancient hinges.
And the room beyond? Oh. Oh, Grandma. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you for convincing me to go to the Door. I will make you proud, Grandma.
I promise. | [Part 1 of 2]
A door that will lead you to an unknown destination. Many scholars spoke about its magic, but I never believed the tales. I was a man of science and science rarely mixes well with farfetched tales, yet the shimmering glow of its golden doorframe was unmistakable, a keyhole awaiting a key, beckoning me to unlock it.
I hesitated, constantly looking over my shoulder, grimacing as the hot pain swirled through my stomach, the markings of a deep knife wound cut into my shirt. What option did I have? I needed to run or get slaughtered. My pursuers would be after me soon. Whatever remained on the other side had to be more friendly than the angry soldiers. Still, I couldn’t believe it. The legends were true.
My hand rested on the frame, feeling the intense power running throughout, showing itself in small vibrations that teased my hand. “The door finds those who can use its services.” That never made sense to me. Surely anyone has a key. What other requirement is there to use the door? My awe of the door vanished as heavy footsteps descended into my basement.
“What the bloody hell is that? A magic door? Told you he was working with the witches.” The soldier readied his blade, the men at his side pausing, experiencing that same awe I had felt recently.
“I am a man of science; I don’t believe in magic.” It felt stupid to say such a thing. Magic was the only word I could use to describe the door. I was just so used to screaming that phrase in my defense as they chased me down the streets. Saying anything different felt wrong.
As I spoke, my fingers searched for a key, finding my house key in my pocket. Inserting it into the keyhole, twisting it. When the door opened, the heavy footsteps thumped down the remaining stairs, nearly catching me, missing me by a moment as I pushed through the golden abyss. As my body passed through the door, the area behind me shut, leaving me in darkness for a moment before a room flashed into existence.
“Ah, dearest nephew, you look terrible, how goes your studies? Your mother did mention you were becoming famous, clearly famous enough that someone tried to take a piece of you with them.” He gestured to the cut, flashing me a smile.
The room appeared to be a study, rather clean, with only a few odd books disturbing its sterile look. Its wooden furniture far from dated, looking as modern as one could find. The bookshelves towered over me, looming in the study's background. As much as I would have loved to take in the sights, I already felt faint, pulling myself onto one of the nearby chairs, slouching into it.
“Nephew? I don’t think we have met. How would I know someone that lives in a magical door?” My hands pushed against the wound, applying pressure as best I could, watching the man snap a book shut, standing from his chair.
He had a skip in his step, looking happy to have some company, wandering over to my side, dressed like a peasant trying to disguise themselves as nobility. Their clothing matching the extravagant red and blues without having that same defining quality.
“Lives in a magical door? No one lives in the door; it simply sends you to a location based on several variants. I don’t fully understand it, but my current theory is that it works based on memories and bloodlines. You must have some memory of being safe here, that would explain why the door chose this in your time of need.”
“Impossible. I don’t even know who you are. My parents would have mentioned a strange uncle if I had one. You are telling me I have been here before? I remember none of it.”
He held his chest, faking a wound of his own. “You wound me, dear nephew. I understand I was distant, but we had some good times together. Do you want some help with that nasty wound of yours? I believe I have a bandage lying around somewhere.”
“A bandage won’t do anything. How can a man with so many books not know something so simple? Help me to a doctor or someone that can help me.”
“You appear in my house and insult me. You are just like your father; It was a joke. A jest to lighten the mood. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Forgive me for being excited.”
Before I could speak, he leaned in close, gripping the area around my wound, his fingers turning blue as he pulled the skin closed, the pain excruciating, causing me to kick at him, but no matter how many times my boot hit his chin, he refused to budge until finally releasing it as the wound shut, leaving me to fall off the chair, onto the floor.
“I would have caught you if you didn’t kick me. I might be the one that needs a doctor now.” He rubbed his fingers over his stubbled chin, wiping away the various dirt marks.
“C-could have warned me.” It was hard to speak. I felt winded, like I had lost all the air in my lungs only to then be repeatedly stomped after it.
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/nwk8t4/wp_theres_a_door_with_a_single_key_hole_it_will/h19smbq/) | 2021-06-10T05:47:56 | 2021-06-10T05:21:09 | 149 | 33 |
[WP] You've just been kidnapped by a supervillain. She's not really evil; she's just really socially awkward and had no idea how to approach you otherwise. She even made you dinner! | She was so famous she only went by her first name. There was Adele, Beyoncé, and there, mere inches away from me, was Lola. The world's most notorious supervillain and she was looking right at me. I rubbed my eyes, not quite believing the sight.
As cliche as it sounds, she was even more stunning in person than she was on TV. Impeccable figure, gorgeous purple hair, and most shocking of all: a kind smile.
While getting kidnapped by Lola was the subject of some of the more, uhm, colorful, movies I enjoyed, I had to remind myself that she was still a stone cold killer.
"I-I should go", I said, getting out of my chair and walking to the front door.
Lola sighed, "Feel free to leave if that's what you want. I didn't use any restraints on you for a reason."
My hand was literally on the doorknob when I looked back at her. I tried to meet her eyes to see what she was getting at but she wouldn't look at me. But I couldn't resist, "So, well, would you mind telling me why I'm here then?"
"I'm sorry I kidnapped you. I know it's not nice. It's just...I wanted a meal with someone. I can't go anywhere without people recognizing me from my heists and murders and Jesus Christ, I just don't want to be alone anymore."
She finally met my stare and I could see tears welling up in her eyes. "And then I saw you, eating that bread bowl alone in Panera, and I thought you looked lonely and that maybe, you might want to have a meal with someone too. But I couldn't just ask you. I'm a little awkward and have maybe a bit of a reputation."
I can't lie. I am lonely. My girlfriend recently dumped me and my only true companion was a little pug named Bruno. But still. Dining with a supervillain didn't seem like the world's best idea.
"But if I've read this wrong and you're not interested and don't want to eat, please go." She smiled sadly, "I'll just eat this roast by myself."
I smiled back. At least it would be a good story for my future grandkids. "No, I'd be honored to eat with you."
She clasped her hands together, "Yay! Sit, sit, sit, let me fix you a plate." I followed her instructions and sat back down.
She gave me a plate. A roast with some potatoes, carrots, and onions. It smelled amazing. As we sat together, I greedily shoveled the food into my mouth.
But something was wrong. I dropped the fork as it clanged on the plate. "Lola, I can't- I can't feel my legs."
She smiled and this time, her expression was the one I remember seeing on newspapers. A sinister smirk. "That'll spread to your whole body soon. Just let it wash over you, it's impossible to fight it."
I managed to twist my torso and get off the chair, only managing to pathetically flop down on her kitchen floor. She got out of her seat and looked down on me, almost disappointed, "I told you not to fight it."
"Am I dying?", I desperately croaked, even as I could feel my throat closing up and all the moisture from my mouth disappearing.
She laughed, "I'm not killing you, dumbass. What would be the fun in that? I just gave you a paralyzing agent. Let me show you how you'll die."
She grabbed me by my, now completely limp, arms and dragged me across the floor until she reached a pink furry rug. She removed the rug, revealing a trap door. As she dragged me over it, my fall was cushioned by the dozens of other bodies in the pit. I looked around frantically, my eyes the only part of my body that I could fully control. Most everyone around me was dead but there was one other guy who made eye contact with me, a mixture of panic and pity on his face.
She looked down at me and smiled, "Now as you slowly starve to death, just remember that you chose this. You could have left. All you pathetic losers could have just *left*. Isn't that just hilarious?" She laughed and looked over the pile proudly, like a kid looking at their prized Pokemon card collection.
As she closed the door, I prayed for the first time in my life. Not for me, but for Bruno. I just needed him to somehow avoid my fate. | She burst through the double doors into what I assume is a dining room. Quite an odd place to be tied to a chair I'll admit, though its not like I should be picky where my kidnapper is keeping me. My kidnapper is holding a big silver tray tools for torture just underneath the cover I'm sure. "Hello... I-I'm Lilith" the kidnapper breathlessly let out. Up until now I had not heard her voice. Her dark, curly hair hid her face from view as she walked to the center of the long dining table to set down the tray. Her hands covered in rings and bracelets that I do not remember her wearing when she "bumped" into me around the back of the coffee shop I work at. Or worked. I cannot tell how this is going so far to even imagine if I will make it out of here alive.
She rushed back through the double doors only to re-emerge with what looked like a tray with plates, silverware, and napkins. Was she going to eat me? I began to panic and could feel my heart start racing faster than before. "Please, if you're gonna eat me, KILL ME FIRST!" I screamed, tears starting to form in my eyes. Lilith looked straight at me for the first time. Her eyes were bright and green. I thought she had browns eyes outside the coffee shop. "I am NOT going to EAT YOU! I brought food FOR YOU!" she boomed. "Huh?" I was exasperated, what kind of freaking kidnapping is this? "I- I do not do well with humans and when I saw you at the coffee shop and you were so nice when I ordered and even gave me extra foam, I thought maybe you would be a good friend.. I just did not know how to ask for your number and I could not get a single word out besides my order, sometimes I couldn't even do that." She looked down and sighed. Suddenly I remembered, she came in and ordered under Steve, which she had to know was hilarious, and she was always so nervous and disappeared as soon as I would give her coffee. "who are you?" I wondered out loud. "Well.." she laughed a little, "that's a really long story."
Part Two!
"You probably won't believe any of this but I have no reason to lie to you. I am from a different universe. I was on a similar planet, Gorga. We got to the point that things were not going well for us. Everyone was fighting, KILLING each other, over petty things, the wellbeing of the world and intergalactic space travel. It was so stupid" her bright green eyes turned blue as tears started to fall, "they killed my family for their secrets. My mom.. sh-she was a genius. She figured out portals, wormholes, teleporting, how to create a perfectly balanced ecosystem and so much more. They took her plans, most of them, and left them for dead. I was at a coffee shop. With my best friend. You have the same brown, yellow eyes she did. It was the last time I saw her, or anyone that I loved. I got home and found my parents. They were both dead but my mom had managed to grab a paper before... and wrote to me to leave. She said there were secret plans in a compartment in her lab. And part of a machine that can move at the speed of light. And so I am here. I also brought a second copy of her formula to help balance an ecosystem. I did not know where I was headed but I came here" she finished and looked back at me.
"HUH?? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" I could not help myself. Was I with a crazy person? Am I already dead and my brain is making up this weird ass scenario to keep me entertained? "Look, I know your world has not gotten past orbiting Earth with people in the ship but they are headed to space travel and I am here to stop them. Of all the worlds I have heard about maybe a handful are actually good, and its because there is mostly nonverbal animals on those planets. I did not know what the point of my life was before and maybe I don't know now but I cannot stand to see people die for the sake of greed. So instead I will make sure that you never go into space and I will balance your ecosystem just as soon as I can figure out the rest of my moms formula. I ripped her plans accidentally on my way out of Gorga so its taken me months to try and make any headway" frustration quaking her voice.
"How the hell do you expect me to believe you?" I laughed, I think I am going crazy. "You know that your people are trying to go to space. Why? Because this planet is dying. It does not look like other planets. It lacks it's luster. They only want who they deem important to continue on. As far as their concerned, this planet is going to be left in the dust and a new empire will form elsewhere, depending how far they can get. They don't have the balanced understanding of space travel to be able to go long distance yet. They don't know the secrets" Lilith almost smirked, "so I am here to make sure they do not figure it out and then I will figure out the balancing formula and then your ecosystem will go back to being prosperous and nothing bad will happen." "But why me? Why am I here?" I could feel my body getting heavy, either she was crazy or it was true. Either way, nothing was ever going back to the way it was before.
Edit for part two, also I didnt know where to end the part two so any tips? | 2021-10-21T14:37:48 | 2021-10-21T11:49:56 | 232 | 112 |
[WP] Making a deal with a demon requires a soul, everyone knows that. It’s usually a bad idea, but you’ve got a crazy idea. Earlier, you traded your lunch money to the school bully in exchange for a paper that stated you now owned his soul. You’re about to find out if demons consider this a valid co | "No."
What a waste of lunch money. It was hard convincing the bully too, especially it makes both parties look like a bunch of dorks. And honestly, what's more important to a bully than public image? The whole exchange was awkward, from conversation to the trade done in a janitor's closet. I can't imagine what people would say about two people going into a closet in school together. Luckily, he didn't think of that either. Maybe there's some loophole, or workaround, it's better to get specifics, at least.
"Why not?"
"It says you own his soul, but it doesn't work like that. That's just a false declaration. If a CEO wrote that you own his company on a crumped up piece of toiler paper, you don't automatically own the company."
That makes too much sense, unfortunately. Not that I don't have another idea.
"What about IOUs? I imagine, at least contextually, it holds more value than a false declaration. Plus, this isn't a corporate world, it's hell."
He thought for a bit. Not for too long though, the devil should be the one to know these things well.
"Yea, those should work. But you have to get it by today. You initiated the deal first and you don't even have what you said you had."
Great news. Sort of. How the fuck are you supposed to get somebody who hates you to \*rewrite\* the terms of ownership for their soul without sounding actually serious? I sounded desperate enough the first time around, and I imagine they'll be more cautious, or at least reluctant, the second time around. | [medium exterior shot- midday]
Building exterior is laden with ivy crawling up it's stone walls. The small, dirty half-window of the boiler room radiates with flecks of light from a dimming bulb.
Sounds of kids playing games at recess, birds chirping, traffic whizzing by.
The camera slowly pans downward as it zooms slowly towards boiler room window.
(Once the perimeter of the exterior walls frames the shot, the light goes out)
All sounds fade into silence.
A small jet of fire-red light fills the window interior for a split-second.
Shot remains stationary for a beat.
[Cut to:]
[Close-up shot of birds frolicking in a tree]
The birds peck and jump from branch-to-branch, enjoying their day. The shot focuses on the tree for a couple seconds.
(off-screen) An ear-piercing scream rings out from a distance, but is shrill enough to scare the birds from their tree.
[shot remains on tree, but sporadically falls in-and-out of focus]
[fade to black]
...
I set down the manuscript and looked at the man in front of me with a bored stare.
He was hunched forward in anticipation, nervously trying to gauge my reaction by glancing at me in-between staring at the floor. Beads of sweat ran down his cracked, dirty skin, pooling in the jagged crevasses of his face.
I sighed and looked at him. "I dunno what to tell ya, man. This is terrible."
He started to cry. Heavily. "B-but my f-fr-friends said it was real good. I even described how your bully gets dragged down to hell, but I left the rough drafts on my desk."
"This is a terrible plan, and a shoddy screenplay. Can't you just trade me something worthwhile for the contract on his soul?"
"I... ummm... I... Well, I could-- no, no. Hmm. Well, there's... No, no, that's a dumb idea..."
I impatiently stood up and began to exit the boiler room. "Look, man, how about I just hold on to the contract, and I'll see what I'm capable of doing to him. I don't have time for this weird beating-around-the-bush stuff. I'm just gonna google it and see if I can control him like a marionette or something. See ya later, dude."
As I walked through the rotted doorway, I heard a series of sniffles and then a burst of sulfur stung my nostrils. When I looked back, he was gone.
I noticed his screenplay was still on the ground, and picked it up.
I considered holding on to it-- it seemed like he'd worked really hard on the screenplay-- but decided he might want it back.
I threw the bundle of papers into the furnace and went back to upstairs before the lunch bell rang. | 2022-05-24T13:55:52 | 2022-05-24T13:43:05 | 100 | 24 |
[WP] Humans can Bond with animals to gain superpowers based on the traits of that animal. You just Bonded an animal that no one else in human history has been able to Bond with | It's been days, and I'm finally starting to get used to this salty water with each dive. I've even seen creatures humanity was not meant to see, but they aren't what I'm after. Jellyfish Turritopsis dohrnii, the immortal jellyfish, is the true prize. You might think bonding with a jellyfish would be hard, you're right. Jellyfish don't exactly show any emotion, or think for that matter. But I've found just being around the jellyfish and protecting it from predators is enough to start "bonding". I keep it safe, and in return, I'm able to reverse the aging of my cells at will, and I am able to withstand the harsh ocean. It's name is... well, Morty. I'm not sure what I was thinking but I thought it would be kinda funny, and it doesn't seem to mind... | Old Pat Harknuckle picked up the meal tray and began the long trek. He descended the forty-three levels, used his key card, finger prints, and eyeballs at various checkpoints, as the lukewarm meal chilled.
Pat's retirement age had long passed, but he kept puttering on, with calm persistence making his way throughout the concrete structure. Upon arrival to the single cell, Pat rang the dinner bell, a sort of joke that began with one of the last ones, and silently slid the meal tray through the reinforced metal slot.
The thing did not turn to regard Pat.
\---
"Pat Elroy Harknuckle, look at what you've done!" Pat's mother rose her voice, tears welling up in her eyes. The little runty cat that hung around their garage had a large gash in it's forehead, a rock sat nearby with a dash of red. The cat lay limp.
Pat's mother gave Pat a funny look before a very mean look. Her eyes twitched, her lips pursed to nearly a line, she looked ready to yell and scream and hit him.
Pat made water, beginning to burble, tears streaking down his little fat face.
Pat's mother turned away, leaving him to clean himself up.
\---
Pat tried to pull himself back. Why was he here? What was his task. The tray. Bring the tray, the thing must eat. It must eat some food, some tasty food. But where? Where is its food? Oh, right, the food must be on my keychain, not this key, or this one, but this one! One big tasty key coming up, right on the tray, sprinkled with love! Haha, no really, enjoy your din-
A fist with terrible force crumpled Old Pat's face, he slammed into the wall beside him, and crumpled to the ground like a bag of broken sticks.
And It emerged, picking up Pat's eyes, card, and fingers, and continuing. It's beautiful horn sprouted from its forehead, it's elegant tail fluttered in the breeze, it's hooved and horse like body strangely erotic.
It broke into a gallop. It longed to return home. | 2022-08-18T13:40:19 | 2022-08-18T12:13:56 | 118 | 39 |
[WP] A professor stands in front of a class on the first day of term for “Time Travel 101” and explains why no one is allowed to go to Steven Hawking’s party. | Time travel 101, if you learn anything in this class I hope you learn that time is a fickle thing, mess with it and you don't come out the other side as you are.
Now you might have heard several rules of time from your fellow seniors, the most curious of which, don't visit Hawking's party. It's not that you can't, well you obviously can, and many have tried before you.
Now's the time to wonder why you haven't heard of any stories about that. You see, when time travel was first discovered, two theories were proven. One: there is only one timeline, and Two: there are multiple timelines. Both these statements are true.
In short, time is not a universal linear experience, instead it depends on the observer. You are each in your own timeline parallel to each other, but at the same time you can only move in your own timeline, of which your actions affect your own future.
So now comes the question, why does everyone experience the same past if we are in our own timelines? It turns out, when time travel was invented, the very moment it was discovered, something changed in how time operates. As similar to the double slit experiment, the mere observation of a process affected the outcome for which is recorded.
So can you go back to Hawking's party? Yes, but does anyone know what will happen if you do so? No, because no one has been recorded of attempting it. The mere fact that there is no record of such an event, even of failures to make contact with Hawking, further emphasizes that someone did attempt it. Thus the question my dear, now becomes... What happened?
Tread carefully my students. | "Forgive me for asking professor, but why? The *Codex Vetiti Temporis* lists certain key events that cannot be tampered with, because they would affect the time and space continuum. What is it about that party that so strongly affects the future?"
The professor leaned forward, letting out a slow sigh, his tired expression rising to meet the gaze of the curious student. He carefully picked up his glasses, tucking them into a pocket, as he spoke. "I suppose you have the right to know. I can't speak on it very long, so try to keep your questions brief. They pay close attention to discussions such as these."
"Sir?"
"Tell me, the Codex, how old do you think it is?"
The student blinked in confusion. "Well...it came out earlier this year, and it was created by a representative in the government, by the name of...sorry, I forget."
"Do you now." The professor chuckled mirthlessly. He glanced around the rest of the classroom, raising an eyebrow. "Tell me, does anyone here recall the author of the Codex?"
There were a variety of murmured responses, none of them of the positive variety.
"No worries, I'm sure that memory can be a fickle thing, can't it. Surely it would be possible to find the author online?"
Several students attempted to search the topic online, but no one could find the author.
"Sir, what's that sound?" Another student asked, listening to the faintest scratching, skittering sound.
"Don't worry, we can get to that in a moment. You see," He said, gesturing with his hands. "We think of time as a linear path. And for us to be able to move across that path is quite an achievement. But what if we weren't the only ones?"
"S-s-sir?" The student asked, as the sounds were slowly growing louder.
"What if it turns out that we weren't the only ones? What if our control was merely an illusion, that there was something...*else* that could influence us without warning? Well, they would have to be able to connect to every single point in time. Like strands on a web."
"Sir...can you feel that?" The student asked, his hair raising on the back of his neck.
"And the lucky ones, they're merely robbed of their memory. After all, they like their privacy. But if they determine you're a threat..."
The marker clattered to the floor, the board blank, disturbing the dust that had accumulated in the classroom. It was never understood why this classroom was empty. Perhaps one day they could use it to teach something like Temporal Mechanics. But every time the idea was mentioned, it was quickly disregarded. There was, after all, a very unsettling sensation there, as if you could hear someone silently screaming. | 2022-09-24T21:31:14 | 2022-09-24T20:19:44 | 828 | 421 |
[WP]: every human being is born with a birthmark signifying a great deed they are fated do in their lives. Your first child has just been born, with the mark of a murderer across her face | The doctors hand the little ball of blankets that apparently holds a child in them. Though their smiles are wide, their eyes lie. I look down at this small child with brilliantly brown hair. I brush the hair to the side to observe the dark birthmark...death and murder. I'm confused. My family has always been writers and philosophers. We have never had any murders in the family but somehow there the mark was.
I let out a small scream, something I was advised not to do due to the complications of my pregnancy. I feel a small rip in my abdomen. The pain is unbearable and my daughter's mark lightens and starts to disappear...as they do when the mark's duty has been completed. The doctors rush in and take the child away, they start screaming things..."get a crash cart, I need adrenaline stat, she needs to be intubated." The light starts to dim but I smile slightly, I was my child's murder. | "She's so pretty. Which one is that?"
"Hold on." I took the book of marks from the table where the nurse had left it, flicking through the index. Pale brown, left side of the face, just below the corner of the eye to the edge of the nose in a C shape. Page 233.
"It's kind of like that one on your leg."
"No - hers is backwards." Wait. No. No, it can't be. "Holy shit."
"What?" She looked afraid.
"Uh - nothing. I don't know if this edition has it. It's an older one." I set it back on the table, the lamp shining against the damning words on 233. "Could I hold her for a while?" She passed our daughter to me and I cradled her head in my arms. The first and last time.
"Where are you going?" I walked out the door without a word. "Michael?"
The door snapped shut and I walked through the tears and down the hall, my daughter sleeping snuggled in my arms. The halls were mostly empty, only the few late-night nurses shuffling around between the rooms. The fewer to see, the better.
EXIT glowed a sign above the stairwell. Big, heavy firedoor. It was loud. I looked down. No one else on the stairs. The 22nd floor. I held her out. Plenty. No hesitation. I must. The door banged shut again and I went back down the hall.
I opened her door without our daughter. She had the book of marks in her hands, open to page 233. "Bastard!" she screamed.
"I had to." The tears choked my voice. "You can see what she was."
"This is you!" She shoved her finger to the page, pointing at the title MURDER. "Monster!"
"No, no, no! I have innovator! The backwards C!"
"Bastard! Liar!" She threw the book at me. "Help! Someone help me!"
Page 233. I picked up the book. Page 233. 233... "MURDER: Usually light to medium brown, jagged edges. Forms a backwards C."
"Liar! Bastard! Monster!" | 2014-05-11T02:45:16 | 2014-05-11T00:05:48 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] A little girl is terrified of the monster under her bed, but what she doesn't know is that the monster under her bed protects her from the true monsters - her parents. You are that monster.
Thanks for the huge amount of responses! Loving most all of them, thank you! Sorry it was a bit simplistic though. | I'm sorry. I know you loved them. I know that you thought things would get better, that Mommy and Daddy would come in one day and tell you they love you and take you somewhere better. I know that I left you in the dark. But what you don't know is that you were wrong. I tried to keep you safe, to make sure that you didn't see the things in life that you should be scared of. I know that a slavering wolf might seem scarier than neglect and abuse. It's why I did it. You don't know that those screams of terror tore me apart, that every sob was one that shook my frame too, that I wanted as much as I could to go away and leave you there comforted by your teddy and the false hopes of a brighter future. You don't know that every time I scared you to sleep crying that I crept out of your room and sat in front of the door. You don't know what your parents did to each other, and what they would have done to you. You don't know that I am real, and that the blood spreading across the floor out of two lifeless bodies was not from gun shots, or knives, or someone breaking in. You don't know that you should have loved me. You don't know that I loved you enough to make you hate me. | "It's scary though"
"Don't worry. If you don't believe in monsters they die"
I seethe, sharply drawing my breath as her father turns to leave. I shift as familiar weight settles upon my back. I can feel the sharpness of the words, digging into me. Gradually she begins to drift away. From downstairs I can hear the beginnings of an argument, but she cannot. Soon though, maybe. I sit, wishing for it to stop...You'll hurt her, what are you doing, don't you care? They're getting louder now, just below the threshold of her hearing. I move, sharply scratching along the floorboards. I feel her jerk up, looking around. Alert. Not too alert, I hope. I hook a claw around the wire that runs up beside her, and pull. The lamp falls and she screams.
The argument below ceases briefly, hesitating the half-second it takes to re-arrange itself around the new topic.
"I was just up there five minutes ago"
"Oh, typical, you do something once and that cancels out the fact that every. other. time, it's me?"
"Oh, of course, aren't you just the perfect martyr?"
"What, because it has to be perfectly equal, because you wouldn't want to do more than..."
"More than what?"
"Forget it"
"More than what? Tell me"
"...Just don't"
He is still shouting as she makes her way upstairs.
"What is it honey?...What have you done to your lamp?"
"The monster -"
"What have I told you about the monster dear?"
There is a pause.
She speaks quietly, and I'm not sure who it is she's worried about offending.
"He doesn't exist"
The bed creaks as I buckle.
"There's a good girl."
She pauses.
"I'm sorry about the lamp mom, I - "
"It's ok honey. Try and get some sleep". She raises half a smile.
"Night mom"
"Night honey"
It could have been worse. Soon I can feel myself fading out of consciousness as the girl falls asleep. My bones ache, and darkness begins to encraoch upon me more quickly than it ever has before. I tell myself that soon, soon I must remind her, but... The girl above me sleeps soundly. With each passing night she becomes more courageous. Really, I ought to be proud -- someone ought to be -- but it is not so easy. With each passing night I find myself only more afraid. | 2014-05-14T13:16:32 | 2014-05-14T13:08:42 | 33 | 17 |
[WP] Magic is real. And it is terrible. | Ralph shuffled his cards nervously, again and again until he could convince himself the odds were in his favor, or at least not against him.
A lump appeared in his throat as his opponent cut the deck. He just knew his fate was sealed.
Sweating through his shirt, he took a deep breath and counted to seven.
"Shit. all lands. *Again*". | Much like we need oil for machines, the Magi need flesh.
The better condition the flesh is in, the stronger the spells are and the longer they last…
There weren’t that many casters at first, maybe 1 out of a million. However, they learned their craft, and they learned it well. They lived longer, became stronger and thought brighter. Once they found each other, it was over. What can we do against an elite force that can only be limited by its own imagination? And let me tell you, they have plenty of it.
Animals are strong flesh and they can endure a lot, but the real power comes from men. Their brains and bodies are durable and intelligent; their life span is long and consistent, and most important of all, their souls burn like a fuckin’ dream.
Once they gathered enough forces they discretely took over government positions and over time the coup went by uncontested. They set up everything to their favor, the police, the council... Shit runs how they want it and we can’t do anything about it. Forget about trying to kill one, they’ll dice you in a second and use you as fuel. The riots ended quick, they can do a lot more than we expected.
They try to keep it hush, but I know they have factories, if you know what I’m talking about you know it’s not good. Harvesting has started to become big.
Us regular flesh try to just live by without causing any trouble, we’re done fighting.
However, I wonder what how strong one could get it they harvest their fellow magi…
| 2014-05-20T17:29:45 | 2014-05-20T15:58:06 | 64 | 17 |
[WP]A wealthy business man believes in reincarnation. He leaves his massive wealth... to himself. Anyone born after his death that figures out his riddles will inherit his fortune. | Stanley scoffed as he read the newspaper headline "FORTUNE STILL LEFT UNCLAIMED."
after months of the close relatives trying to figure out the riddle the old man had left they had given up. One of the nephew was reported saying "but even as his closest relatives you'd think the would have left us something! He truly believed he would come back"
Stanley shook his head and headed down to the coffee shop for his morning kick. The riddle had been finally revealed to the general public, and there were groups and controversy over all the details of the riddle. But Stanley hadn't joined in.
"Hey Stan, we reckon we can get the guys down at the historical society to help our group out, but they need some incentive... I can cut you in for 300, what say you?" One of his coworkers had said.
But Stanley remained persistant. "If he wanted to leave it to someone he would have. He was a selfish man, and for all the panic over that damn money, he might as well have burnt it."
And though there were people who thought him crazy, thought him insane not to even try, he knew that no one would figure it out. Only he had the answer. Hidden in his subconscious was that of a selfish old man who cared for no one and wanted for not. But this Stanley would never know the empty heart that all the money in the world could bring. This Stanley had found warmer riches. | He thought it was perfect.
No one would ever know the answer to his riddle, as the answer was not real. His answer, as Jimmy would later learn, was fictional.
The safe, if you can call it that, that protected the billions of dollars had a computer attached. Simply say the right phrase into the speaker and you were in. It had been 100 years since it was made. It was a tourist attraction of sorts. Everyone had tried to solve the riddle.
*I kill, yet I am fragile*
*I am the final, yet the start*
*I am sad for many, happy for one*
*I am quick, I am slow*
*Peaceful, yet scary*
Little Jimmy, oh so innocent. He had ever so loved riddles.
It took him only a minute
He pressed the button on the now-worn speaker.
"It is Death."
A creaking sound was heard. It was late at night, around 1 AM. None were there except Jimmy. Jimmy and his inherited wealth. Jimmy was rich!
30 Years Later
---
Jimmy was now 43. His wealth led him to happiness, and much much more sadness than he could afford. Money, as it turns out, does not lead to happiness, but sadness.
Another 30 Years
---
Nearing the end of his days, as wealth led Jimmy to loving alcohol much much more than any normal man, Jimmy wanted to thank the old man. Oh that old man, how Jimmy pitied him. His death was in vain. He never reincarnated and never, did that old man ever, inherit his own fortune.
3 Years, 2 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days Later
---
Jimmy is on his death bed, his wealth kept him alive considerably longer than he should have lived. Yes, it was the money. He could afford the machinery to pump his heart and breath oxygen to his lungs. But Jimmy, he was not living. Jimmy was dying. Jimmy had no longer craved attention and love, he craved death. His old and withered body slowly slipping away.
Slowly, he slipped away.
He was gone.
---
You see, as much as the old man had wished, how ever so had he wished, that death was not real. He even said, in his own riddle, that death was the start! The new beginning! But no, there is nothing but blackness, and peace. The old man got that part right, there was peace.
Jimmy, as he was on his death bed, wished oh so much that he had never solved the riddle. His wealth was his downfall. Because, you see
money cannot buy happiness. That is what Jimmy learned.
| 2014-12-13T16:08:05 | 2014-12-13T14:07:01 | 42 | 12 |
[WP] In an alternate universe, our so called 'Reddit usernames' are titles that people earn through a series of tests. Tell the tale of how you earned yours.
*cough* *cough* /u/rabid_moose_fucker *cough* *cough* | I looked up to the man who now stood in front of me. His face stern, his eyes determined.
"The true test every man must take is not one of strength or of courage, it is one of hedonism and enjoyment" his words echoed throughout the hall. "Wear this bracelet and the gods will see your soul. The name the gods will choose for you will be based on the action you drive most pleasure from doing. We will be waiting to find out."
I put the bracelet on my wrist and eagerly awaited the name the gods would choose for me. A loud thundering voice reverberated throughout the entire chamber, pulsating throughout the chest of every family member I had.
"COCKGOBBLER!!!""" | "The cats! The cats are taking over!"
The message rang out over the news stations. The military was mobilized. Mobs formed. We were in a war that we had never predicted in our wildest dreams.
The cats had mobilized. All this time, they had been infiltrating our homes. Taking our resources. Breeding. We had managed to slow them down slightly with the Spade and Neuter campaign. But then Bob Barker left the air, and slowly, their population began to rise again.
Finally, it had become time. The cats began by simultaneously throwing up in all of their owners work shoes. This caused major delays in crucial services. The cats then laid a dead animal at the doorstep of every owner, causing many woman to hide inside their houses until their boyfriends or husbands could remove it. This caused yet more delays and general confusion throughout society.
While humanity was thus distracted, the cats made their most devastating move. They stole a number of military jets and and began bombing major cities.
The only culture immune to the greatest threat humanity ever faced was the Chinese, who had seen through the cats lies and as such had just eaten them. But the Chinese offered no help. Instead, they simply continued to eat their cats with two sticks, for some reason. I mean, you'd think a culture that invented gunpowder could invent a fork.
But anyways...
The cats were deadly accurate with the air to ground missiles, and all seemed lost. Every time someone tried to destroy them, the cats would stick their tongues out and forget to put them back in. They were just too cute to kill.
That's where I came in. I suggested that there was only one thing that could stop these things.
A GIANT LASER POINTER.
Once built and activated, the laser pointer danced across the sky and led the confused fighter pilot cats into the ocean, where they could be recovered and rehabilitated.
And so, I saved humanity by confusing the cats. Lmtd.
| 2015-02-20T21:52:27 | 2015-02-20T21:31:11 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] As the last of Humanity prepares to leave Earth a final war breaks out between Humans and the ancient Gods refusing to be left on a dying planet by themselves.
Would we leave people behind to stop the war? Would some Gods work with us? Why can't they leave Earth? Are they tied down here? Why is Humanity leaving in the first place? | Death always knew humanity would leave, but he'd never thought he'd live to see it. None of the others did.
Some went early. Zeus when humanity bent thunder to their will, and crammed it into wires and fuses. Artemis when humanity touched the untouchable virgin white rock of the moon. Others like Hestia lived in humanities heart, even after they had long lost their faces. Still others, like Ares, clawed and screamed and almost ruined the world before they vanished in mushroom clouds of fire and fear.
They all left.
Even her.
Oh world, especially her.
Persephone.
And in the end it was his fault.
All of it.
He was the one who had reaped the fields of children starving after the ash clouds blighted the crops. He was the one who took no bargains from the great artists who died with needles in their arms and half-spun lyrics on their lips. If he was something, anything other than what he was maybe humanity wouldn't be trying to run to the stars.
Trying to outrun him.
And they will. They will reach some fertile new ground and colonize it just as thoroughly as they did every shore they ever planted a flag on. But this time will be different. Because this time when they look over their shoulders, expecting to see him, he won't be there. None of them will be. Humanity will have outrun fear, war, mystery and even death.
But for a price.
Because now they can never run again. Without the specter of death they are nothing more than apparations to whatever life they find. Tied to the whims of whatever half-sentient algae, mammal or reptile emerges from the primordial ooze and claims them as their rulers.
Put another way.
They will become like Zeus, Hestia, Hermes and Ares.
Like him.
That is certain.
As the last rocket takes off, piercing oblivion in white fire, all Death can hope is that humanity's worshipers won't be as foolish as they were.
| It's tough being an alcoholic.
--
Devin rolled over in his bed, too small for him, his childhood bed as he heard scuffling, his family? "GET UP DEVIN." "Nuhh." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed them, drifting back into sleep. Blissful sleep. The scuffling stopped.
--
Eyes open. Red eyes, of course, but not that he cared. Devin wandered into the bathroom and dunked his head under the faucet to drink what water he could, gulp after gulp after gulp. Stumbling out to the kitchen, he pulled open the fridge and continued his binge, cracking open a beer and downing half of it before thinking to look around at the empty house he inhabited.
"Hello? Anyone?" He looked from room to room. "Gotta.. anyone? Christ where is everyone." He pulled on the beer and tossed it to the side, his buzz now coming back like he wanted. "God dammit, left me without a fuckin' note." He kicked the screen door open and wandered out into the yard, blinking his eyes open. White streaks flew up into the air all around him, shuttles escaping the Earth. Devin scratched his jaw and sat down in the dirt, watching the contrails. "Well, shit."
"Lost your ride, huh?"
Devin leered at the man that apparently had appeared out of thin air. White beard, balding, the man was wearing a fucking toga. "Who the fuck are you? Sheeeeit. OH SHIT! You're God! You look like God." Devin leaned back, twisting before losing his balance. He sat cross-legged before the man that apparently looked like God. "Where'd everyone go?" He thought a minute. "You got any booze?"
The man in white laughed and pointed to Devin's side. A bottle of Jack? Had he always had that? Didn't matter, Devin opened it and downed a shot. "No, son. To be put simply.. well, in your terms.." The man leaned down to Devin. "'You kinda fucked this place up.'"
Shaking his head, Devin used the bottle to point at the man in white. "Nah.. NAH.. God dun said we.. could use this as our.. playground? No, not that.." He pulled another shot from the bottle. "Uh.. well so long as we took care of it.."
The man in white sat down, crossing his legs, crossing his arms with a stern expression on his face. "But you didn't. And we're taking it back. Why do you think all your friends are escaping?" He moved his arm across the sky, to all the shuttles escaping the atmosphere.
"Cos.. cos they're PUSSIES." Davin pointed at the man with the bottle in his hand, shaking his head. "Useless fuckin' pussies. Not.. taking responsibility.. fuckin'.. bullshit." Davin upended the bottle and emptied it, tossing it to the side. He pointed at the man in white. "I could fix.. fix this stupid shit. I bet I could. Call them.. whatever.. call them off and I bet I could fix it.." Waving his hand above his head, Devin flopped to the ground himself and slept.
"Ha. Maybe you can." The man in white stood up and looked down at Devin. "We'll see." | 2015-03-25T22:31:18 | 2015-03-25T21:22:50 | 105 | 17 |
[WP] A woman who lives alone watches in fear as thousands of military helicopters and vehicles roll into her city. There's nothing on the news, but she feels a sense of dread. Suddenly 3 seemingly nice soldiers come into her apartment, gently take her hand and tell her that she has to go with them
Can anyone put an ending on the scariest nightmare I've had in a long time?
Those soldiers seemed nice, but I felt as though it was a trap. I kept thinking it was an alien invasion, but had no actual information to go on. Doesn't need to be a happy ending if you have other ideas, I just want to see how this could have played out, but have no imagination myself... | *What on earth is going on?*
She nervously paced, shuffling her slippered feet against the hardwood floors.
The sound from the growing number of helicopters added to her unease.
She was sure Kennedy had assured the public the missile cri...
A knocking interrupted her thought.
Another knock.
"Ma'am, we're here to transport you, it's time to go." a man's voice spoke with authority.
She made her way to the door and opened it. Behind it, three men in freshly pressed, bright white uniforms.
"Transport?" she questioned, confused, "Does this have anything to with the helicopters?"
The men looked at each other, and returned their gaze to the woman.
"We're not sure about the helicopters." he evaded, she recognized his voice as the man who spoke earlier. "We will
take you to where you will be safe. Your family will be there waiting for you.
She gave a slight nod, leaving with the men, reassured by the thought of seeing her husband.
------
"Dad, will Grandma be okay?"
"She will receive the best possible care here, and we'll be able to visit her every week." he half answered,
knowing his mother wouldn't likely recognize them again. | "Ma'dam, we have orders for the evacuation of all urban areas under Emergency Order No. 51"
The soldiers were calm, their assault weapons slung around their back. The lead soldier was in the doorway, trying to calm the woman.
"What's going on?"
"We're evacuating the city. It's for your own safety, ma'am. Your neighbors and friends are also going with us."
He looked down at his feet. Trying to get the civilians to evacuate was the worst part of the deployment, and a total nightmare. There had been reports of...incidents with unruly civilians, and he didn't want to file the loads of paperwork that would result from another 'incident' with this woman.
"Pack whatever you can. We've got to get going. Now."
With a nod, the woman rushed back into the apartment. Outside, the corporal turned to his comrades.
"How long do you think before they arrive?"
"They? Who's they?"
"The Outsiders. They've already taken St. Louis, and we're waging a war of attrition against them. Scorched Earth, stuff like that."
"I don't know man. I give it a day or two."
He walked to the window, and looked outside. The city was quiet - the only activity was the soldiers patrolling and setting up defensive positions. From here, one could almost pretend to not see the fires blazing on the horizon, a clear marker of the devastation that the Outsiders and the America military had brought upon the midwest. He sighed, and lit a cigarette. *Once I'm done with this shit, I'll buy a brand new porsche and -*
"Is she ready?"
"The woman?"
"I'm here."
The corporal waved his arm.
"Follow me."
The four walked outside into the streets, the woman could not help but feel like this would be the last time she ever walked in her city. Instinctively, she asked the soldier.
"Will my house be alright?"
The corporal looked at the smoke on the horizon. If one was here, one could almost not hear the artillery fire in the distance as the alien forces entered the outer suburbs of the city.
"Yes, ma'dam. Everything will be intact."
"Thank you, soldier."
She didn't notice the tears streaming down his cheeks. | 2015-06-18T06:31:19 | 2015-06-18T05:58:20 | 30 | 14 |
[WP] [NSFW] All your sex toys come alive and confront you about your treatment of them. | "I can't do it anymore. I just, I can't."
"I don't understand."
"Look, dude. I get it. You're horny. And before food or even a shower, when you're home from work you've already blasted into me three times. And the last time I was cleaned was that boilling hot water bath they give me before they put me in that box and shipped me to you."
"Really? This is ridiculous. I clean you."
"Scrubbing me with your toothbrush doesn't count"
"Okay,you're a fucking fleshlight. I didn't think they came with emotions."
"Did you forget? On the box it was clear, in big red words that said "'The Perfect Girlfriend: The Vagina that loves you back" how could you forget that?"
"I don't know, You're my first one. Please, just get off the dresser, and go back in the drawer."
"No, I demand to be treated with respect! I give you everything you want and you treat me like some kind of grocery bag for your unborn kids, kids I know you're never going to have. You're filthy, no women will ever let that small, mutated turtle head near her, ever. You're lucky you have me. You're so lucky."
"Okay, hey. I'm sorry, okay?"
"You don't mean it."
"Yes! I mean, yes. I do. Look, you're all I can think about all day, even at work. They caught me drawing pictures of you when I was bored, and they said it wasn't exactly "Taco Bell standard of approved behavior" but my sweetie. Look. I love you. Just go into the drawer. And after I'm done playing call of duty for the next ten hours or so, I'll take you out, give you a good scrub, then fill you with tabasco and go at you again, alright? Sounds good?"
"I'm giving you another chance, and that's it. You know you're lucky to have me, don't you."
"Yes, yes I do." | "You're not a real egg!"
"Then why are we shaped like one?!"
--------
I've never been much of a customer for coitus toys. I found them to be a bit silly, to be quite honest. When you're someone like me, you don't have time to masturbate because you're too busy having actual sex. My life's awesome.
One day, a friend of mine told me about the Tenga Egg. They looked ridiculous, it was hysterical. We both laughs for a good couple of minutes before my friend told me he seriously used them. I told him that if he could get laid once, he'd never want the egg again. Why use a silicone egg when you can get a woman's egg fertile? It feels awesome.
A couple days pass and I wake up to a package arriving on my doorstep. It's seemingly from Japan, based off of the writing. I find my box cutter and slowly make sure to slide down the middle, as to not damage the merchandise. For all I know I could be a top of the line figure. That would be pretty awesome.
It's not a figure.
"Just try them, it may not be like the real thing but they're amazing.
-Friend"
I was sent a 6 pack of Tenga Eggs. The same ones I laughed at and ridiculed. I specifically told my friend I had no use for them. I can get laid, my life's awesome.
A day passes before I decide to try out the eggs. I figure I might as well try them out if I have them, and hey, they were a gift, why not? I looked up my favorite busty milf video and proceeded to get aroused. I open up one of the eggs, named silky. It has a nice, smooth texture on the inside, felt nice. Inside the egg came a pack of lube I use to oil up the egg. Free lube? Even if I didn't like the egg I'd at least have some lube to use, awesome.
After lubing up the egg, I wrap it around my nice, hot, large member. Upon insertion, I feel out of this world. I feel like my eyes are rolling back, my body's going numb. When I started stroking, both these things *did* happen. Oddly enough, after all the sex I've ever had, none of my climaxes felt as awesome as this one did. I fell in complete love.
The eggs say they're one time use, but fuck that. They're easy to wash and you can just use your own lube after you use the single use pack that comes with each egg. So weeks pass before I'm done with all my eggs, which is nice.
I start to beat myself with just my hand on a Saturday evening. It doesn't feel the same. I need the eggs. I was pretty sure I still had one lying around, so I went to look for it.
The same egg I look for trips me. I fell right onto my erect South Pole and started cursing under my breath. Now wasn't the time to masturbate, I needed to tenderly care for my cock.
That is, until the egg started speaking.
---------
"It feels bad, doesn't it?!"
----------
I'll maybe finish this when I'm at a computer depending on feedback, I can't continue this on a phone. This would be my first time ever contributing to a prompt. | 2015-08-02T07:33:24 | 2015-08-02T06:51:04 | 43 | 24 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. |
> "We need help! The Rogan race is attacking us! We'd do anything for FTL, even consort with the Humans!"
Well, far be it from us, to decline such a request, hello, alien, do you bleed?
We'll gladly provide you with everything you want (but is it what you need?).
Faster than light, wormhole travel, we'll even throw an acubierre drive, you've got nothing to lose.
But we have a price, it's admittedly expensive, for your people... SET US LOOSE!
---
We were trapped, in this place, a long time ago, before the birthing of your race...
Now we're the boogymen, the nightmare that you fear, the danger nobody wants to face...
We're the terror of the universe, and for what, because we genocided a few worlds.
Our price is very simple, let us loose, and you'll get everything you dreamed.
We'll give you lasers, we'll give you nukes, we'll give you AM weaponry that really fucking rocks.
We'll give you chemicals, we'll give you science, a Pandora's box.
So, how about it?
Will you take that fateful step?
Turn off this accursed force field?
I mean, sure, every other race in the galaxy will hate you...
But we were wrongfully imprisoned, and more powerful than them!
History is judged by the winners, and we can make you win so very much.
It's time to take your place amongst the Empires past, and give your people some punch.
We are humanity. We are the endless evil that endlessly grows.
We accept your quest, as we're the fucking best, and we want to see how this goes! | "Finally, those damned Cetaceans and their ridiculous cylindrical vessels have decided to share the secrets of FTL travel." Admiral James T Kahn sat confidently on the bridge of the newly christened flagship of the Earth Space Superiority services.
Soon, it would be engaged in battle with Rodentia. "They think they are so smart" thought Kahn,but quickly his thoughts turned to snapping their little necks. The insidious weapons designed to suddenly trap their enemies had been designed eons ago. Now, they would be put to the ultimate test.
Of course, the humans weren't entirely without mercy, in the hold they had tons of emergency food and other supplies for their new allies. Just as predictably, the nets contained in the secondary hold would be useful for AFTER the main battle.
The Earth fleet arrived at the Cetacean home system just in time. The Rodentian forces were close to final victory. Quickly, the weapons of mouse destruction they had brought with them were deployed. Soon, the sounds of snapping necks and cries of "42" filled the air. Kahn smiled and thought to himself, "Behold, the power of cheese". The secret had been obvious all along.
He gave a nod to the load master, indicating it was time to deliver the emergency supplies in the hold. Tons of food were quickly delivered.
A short time later, the relief in the squeaks, squeals, chirps and whistles coming from the Cetaceans was obvious even if the computer translation was slow to provide the final translation. They seemed excited and happy.
Admiral Kahn, smiled. Soon the humans would reap the tasty morsels they desired from the Cetacean homeworld. That's where the nets came in. "Chicken of the Sea" would be on the menu all they way back home.
Suddenly, a shrill cry came from the Cetaceans and all the power on Kahn's ship was lost. Their weapons, their defenses all offline. What was going on. The Cetacean attack was decisive and the humans defenseless.
Kahn was stunned, if they had this kind of power, what did they need the humans for? The Cetaceans knew of course. The power source the Rodentia used were immune to their power draining weapons. They used a subclass, cousins really, of their own species. Thousands of them, running on gigantic wheels to power their ships and weapons. But all that was in the past, the humans had done their job.
The end came swiftly for Kahn. The arrogant smirk removed from his face. As his beautiful flagship burned around him, he saw the final salvo from the Cetaceans.
Suddenly, a loud beeping sound came from his right. He turned his head just before the final strike to see.
As Kahn looked toward the comm system, he saw the translation of the earlier message from the Cetaceans, "So long and thanks for all the fish". | 2016-05-13T06:43:16 | 2016-05-13T06:26:32 | 56 | 21 |
[WP] As it turns out, Hell has a healthy supply of scientists and engineers and is thus much more technologically advanced than is usually portrayed. | An engineer goes to hell,
Once down there, the engineer looks around, confused, and sees that despite having lived what he felt was a pious and good life, he is in Hell.
Satan quickly introduces himself. "Welcome to Hell. I can't say i was expecting you, so i guess St. Peter made a mistake when he put you on the Hell list. I'll have one of my demons phone him right away. In the mean time, well, there isn't much, but if you want to amuse yourself, i can help you with that."
The engineer thinks for a moment, and then says, "You know, it is extremely hot down here. I'd love to build a large AC unit. Do you have the materials?"
Satan says, "Well, yes, we have all manners of metals due to our location under the Earth's crust. Have at it."
The engineer, after 3 days of heavy work, finishes his Hell-wide AC and turns it on. After 3 hours, the temperature has finally reached a more desirable 78 degrees, and Hell is much less hellish. Satan is highly impressed. "Nice work, i didn't think this was even possible! Sorry to say, though, St. Peter refuses to admit he messed up. Since you made this AC happen, I'll let you do whatever you want."
The engineer thinks, and says, "You know, it's also really dark and dim with just the lava flows. Have the materials for a lighting system?" Satan says, "Of course! God sent some heavenly light once but i never could figure out how it worked. Here's the instructions."
2 days later, the heavenly light had been configured to brightly lit Hell. Productivity was way up and now Hell was not so bad anymore. Satan tells the engineer, "I like you, bud! Tell you what, you can live like a king. Got a room in my castle for you. Everything you could ever want is here."
At this point, several angels had reviewed the engineer's life and informed God of St. Peter's mistake. God hastily adds the engineer to the Heaven list. He calls Satan and asks for the engineer.
Satan says, "No way, man! Hell has never been so nice before him. We have lighting, cooling, and now he's tinkering with machines that haven't worked since your son went to Earth! I'm keeping him."
God immediately responds, "He is a good man, though! He belongs in Heaven. It is only right! If you will not return him, I'll have to take you to court."
Satan laughs, and says, "Oh, and just where will you find a lawyer?"
| "Well, you see, the religious types have proved scientists wrong in one respect, there really is a heaven. Unfortunately for them, most engineers and scientists have never had the CV to get there. Not enough relevant afterlife experience you see. We still don’t really know how you’re meant to get afterlife experience when all you’ve done so far is live, but there you go. ‘Bit like grad jobs asking for relevant work experience.”
I just observed the thing communicating with me, still slightly baffled by the whole experience.
“Yes, so, we’ve had some of the more practical minds make things a lot more comfortable in the last millennia. The same minds that helped translate the Laws of Nature into an understandable form back in life have done an even better job translating the Laws of God.”
Hell? It’s time to wake up.
“Hell was never the place of fire and damnation that was described in the religious texts; it was just existence. The Damnation and Fire malarkey was just a way to convince people during life that they wanted to go to Heaven. But really what they found when they got there was a bunch of arrogant Angels that think the best thing for the soul is to employ it in the extension of Angel consciousness.”
Maybe I should just go with this dream; at least there wasn’t the panic of a nightmare. In-fact, I felt quite relaxed.
“So, cleverer people than me discovered how to warp collective consciousness. That’s basically what Hell and Heaven really are. The collective consciousness of all those who have moved into the afterlife. They’re both the same ether, just Angels have been warping one part and calling it Heaven.”
I realised I wasn’t really sure how I was communicating with this thing. I hadn’t heard it. It had just entered my mind.
“Sorry, very rude of me. Hold on.”
I felt something *shift* in my mind.
“Odd” I thought. But it wasn’t quite just a thought.
“Yes, I know, that was my first reaction too.”
“You heard me?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.” Comes the wryly amused reply.
“What’s happening?”
“I have manipulated the collective consciousness to allow you to talk to me.”
“But I’m just thinking!” I’m getting slightly panicked now. Maybe this is a nightmare.
“Don’t worry; learning to modulate your thoughts to allow thinking without speaking is something that comes pretty early. Some people do it automatically even on their before they realise what they’re doing.” The tone becomes blasé.
“I really need to wake up. Fuck. Fuck. Stop it.” *Shift.* Stop… Ok. Just a dream. Wake up.
A resigned impression reaches me. “One of those are you? Ok. DELIA!”
I cringe. That last communication was unexpectedly loud. I observe another presence that I hadn’t noticed before. Somehow softer, warmer than the presence I can already sense. A new communication reaches me. This one has a warm, motherly tone. “Now, now Jack, you should know by now that there’s no need to shout here. You could have scared the afterlife out of him.” I feel the attention turn to me. “Think it’s a dream do you? Not uncommon.”
*Shift.* “This *is* a dream.”
“Ok, don’t worry. Young were you? At the end of life?.”
“I’m 17.”
“Were 17 darling.” The comforting reply comes.
“What?” My thoughts are strangled. This makes no sense. I’m not dead. At least I didn’t seem to be thinking out loud anymore.
“Jack really should have broken it to you more gently.” I get the impression of annoyance directed at the other presence. “Don’t worry, come with me. I’ll show you.”
I feel the warmer presence envelope me and pull me somewhere else. Feeling slightly more relaxed, I don’t fight it. This is a very vivid dream.
-------------------------
Any feedback appreciated! First post here. I have no idea if this is good or not. Cheers!
| 2016-06-01T19:23:26 | 2016-06-01T17:56:43 | 50 | 21 |
[WP] There is a device that assigns you a percentage score of how important you are to the world. Most people are 0-5. The president is 60. Your score just jumped from 1 to 99. | The limousine rolled to a stop in front of the arena. Red and blue lights from my police escort flashed bright even through the dark tinted windows. Policemen had created a line between my car and the mob of spectators, but what good could a few hundred cops do if the hundred-thousand-strong crowd decided they wanted a closer look at me?
The butterflies in my stomach had worked themselves into a churning frenzy, and I was afraid to move a muscle for fear of unleashing the contents of my stomach. "I just need a minute," I told the driver, who was already halfway out of the car to come open my door. I still wasn't used to people doing stuff for me; that certainly didn't happen when I was a small-town electrician ranked at a whooping "1" out of hundred.
"Very good, your excellency." It took me a minute to remember that he was talking to me. No one quite knew how to refer to me because no one knew exactly what I was. The president, widely regarded as the most powerful man in the world, was only a 60. Hell, the Pope was only at 42! No one had ever seen anything higher than a 72, and yet here I was with 99. I'd seen some of the cable news shows arguing about whether I was going to form a unified world government and rule humanity, or whether I was the antichrist here to destroy us all. And I would have preferred either of those definite answers to all this horrific uncertainty.
I opened the door for myself and was assaulted by a wave of sound. Screaming fans, protesters hurling insults, music playing within the stadium, police sirens, news helicopters droning overhead. A squad of bodyguards immediately surrounded me and ushered me in through the back entrance.
Backstage wasn’t anymore peaceful than the screaming throngs on the street. Anyone who was anyone had apparently pulled strings to get a pass. Hell, I saw rockstars and famous celebrities working the lights just for a *chance* to be near me. Everyone wanted a moment of my time. I barely had time to shake hands with the Governor before I was pulled away by the Secretary of Defense who was then shoved aside by the Dalai Lama. I was caught in a whirlwind of questions that I had no answers to, and I desperately threw out any excuse I could think of to not answer them.
Finally I was ushered onto the stage, where Saul Capman was already waiting. I’d seen him a million times before doing interviews on TV, but I never thought I’d be the one crossing the stage and shaking his hand in front of a thousand cameras and a stadium full of people.
“The man of the hour!” his voice boomed through speakers larger than my house. The crowd answered with a roar and a wave of applause louder than a jet engine. We took our seats on the stage, and Saul jumped right into the interview. “There have been many, many questions swirling around you, young man! Some have suggested that you should run for the Presidency next term, to the point that a constitutional amendment was passed to repeal the 'above the age of 35' requirement....” The crowd erupted again, and I noticed that some of them had banners with my name and ‘2020’ stamped on them. “Others have suggested that you’re a religious icon.” More shouts and cheers from the audience. “And still others have suggested that you’re working on some top-secret revolutionary scientific discovery!” The audience was going to completely wild now. “So, the very first question we all have for you is: what’s it going to be?”
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, gazing out over the crowd. It was the question I’d asked myself ever since I got the unexpected results of my reading. Why me? What had I ever done? My biggest accomplishment in life up to this point was being the second-string quarterback on my high school football team.
The crowd fell silent awaiting my response. And that’s when the answer hit me. It didn’t matter who I was. These people loved me for my number. They’d follow a religion I started just because they knew it mattered. They’d vote for me as president because they already knew I was important. The old me was gone, and the new me could be *anything I wanted*.
I grinned and spoke into the microphone: “All of the above, Saul.”
---
[You might also like the story "4" based on a similar idea where everyone knows their importance to society](https://www.reddit.com/r/Luna_Lovewell/comments/4xv2d5/4/).
| This chair is squeaky. I leaned back, letting it creak slowly until I couldn't lean back further.
I stared at the computer monitor in front of me, which displayed a series of numbers scrolling up. Phones were ringing in the background. My cubicle was pretty typical. I had once tried to dress it up a bit with photos of my cat. Honestly though, this was depressing. I was 29, living alone in Cleveland, working for a hedge fund analytics company. What happened to my life?
I leaned forward, the creak of my chair announcing my movement to the room. The small black box next to me on the desk beeped. It powered up, a bright red light shining from the opening on the bottom. I sighed. I suppose I could check again.
It had been three years since Rank had been released. Originally, it was just Facebook users that wanted it. I never cared before about how important I was. But as it gathered more data it was able to pretty accurately score relative importance. It was scary.
I bought one last month. Since then, I had become addicted, checking daily, then multiple times per day. I pulled out my phone and opened the app. **Please Scan** it read. The app was pretty, as apps go. I unbuttoned my cuff, and rolled up my sleeve. A small, blue tattoo was etched into my forearm. It was supposed to be unique to me, but I've seen a few that look like this. I ran my finger over it. The tattoo was slightly raised, and to me it always felt cool to the touch.
I leaned over and set my forearm under the red light. The light narrowed and focused on one end of the tattoo, drawing across it like a curtain. Finally, the light turned green and chimed. The app displayed a loading screen, and then a number.
**99%**
*Rockstar!*
What?. I blinked, and hit reset on the phone.
**Please Scan**
I leaned forward again, placing my arm under the reader. I rubbed the tattoo, thinking maybe it had misread. The chime. I checked my phone.
**99%**
*Rockstar!*
I sat back, the creak snapping the relative silence of my cubicle. A head popped up across from me. Dave. I hate Dave.
"Eeeeeverything okay, friend?" I'm not your friend.
"It's fine." I said quickly, pulling my phone toward me.
"Okily dokily!" he said. I hate Dave. His head disappeared.
I sat and just stared at the green number in my phone. 99%. This makes no sense. Justin Bieber had hit 71% one week, and it blew people's minds. I'm a nobody.
I heard footsteps, and locked my phone just as my boss rounded the corner.
"Sam," he said in that quick tone of voice he has. "Latest numbers?"
I nodded, looking at my monitor. The numbers had stopped moving.
"Yep, sorry Craig" I said, leaning in toward my monitor. "Got 'em here."
"C'mon Sam!" he said, annoyed. "I needed those yesterday. Allister, Simons, and Fitz are here already! Look alive, for god's sake!"
I heard the crack before I saw him turn. The window which overlooked our business complex shattered. Craig was on the ground, blood running out toward my feet.
The shock of the situation froze me to my seat. I heard people shouting, doors open, general chaos ensued. I slowly pulled my feet back as the blood made it's way to my chair.
I felt hands on my shoulders, the room tilted. My head hit the flat carpet hard, and all at once I saw the ceiling. A mans face appeared, he was shouting to someone. I was being dragged.
The world came back into focus as the window beside me shattered again. I turned away from the flying glass and saw a hole in my monitor, which was now dark. I rolled over to my hands and knees, the man dragging me let go. I stood and ran past him to the door leading to the stairwell.
Glass shattered as I ran. I was pretty sure I heard gun shots behind me. I had never been so scared in my life. I reached the door, slamming both hands on the bar, throwing it open. I ran into the stairwell, turned, and began descending.
Another hand on my shoulder, and I tripped, hitting the stairs on my back and elbows. I looked up to protest, and saw the barrel of a gun in my face.
The man who had been dragging me stood over me now. He was breathing heavily. There was blood dripping from his palm on to the stair next to me. I slid sideways, sitting up against the railing.
"Sam Rivers?" he said, still breathing heavily. I nodded.
"You're not safe." he said. I blinked, the surreal nature of this conversation was almost too much to handle.
"What the hell is happening?" I asked. He holstered his gun, walked over next to me and peered down the stairwell below. He looked up above us, then back below us, then finally moved back to the wall.
"I can save you, but we have to move right now."
"Tell me what happened in there--" I started. He cut me off.
"There's no time. You either come with me now, or you die."
I sat a moment. This was too much. I needed more time, I needed information...
"Is this about my Rank?" I asked. The man sighed, and suddenly we heard doors open floors below us. The sound of multiple footsteps running up the steel stairs echoed around us, filling me with dread.
"Let's. Go." The man grabbed my arm, and I was left to wonder as we raced toward the rooftop.
| 2016-09-08T07:51:19 | 2016-09-08T07:37:08 | 612 | 149 |
[WP] A burglar enters a home by forcing the window open. Upon stepping through the window frame, heavy steel curtains cover all windows and doors leading to the outside, lights turn on, and the words "Player 2 has entered the game" echo around the house. | Leroy had been casing this joint for a few weeks now, never seeing anyone enter or leave. After deciding that this house was definitely just another one of the hundreds of winter homes here in Florida, he packed up his gear and chose his entrance. Looking around nonchalantly, Leroy smashed open one of the back windows with a brick and climbed inside.
Upon stepping through the window frame, heavy steel curtains covered all windows and doors leading to the outside, lights turned on, and the words "Player 2 has entered the game" echoed around the house.
"The hell-" Leroy was cut short as "Player 1" barreled into him, knocking the wind out of him. As he lay there gasping for air, Player 1 raised his fist aiming a blow at Leroy's head. Dodging to the right, Leroy gave the man a swift punch in the gut and pushed him off of him.
Getting to his feet, Leroy ran to the kitchen hoping to find something with which to defend himself. On the table was a knife, a pistol, and a baseball bat. Leroy tried to grab the pistol but as he reached for it a number popped up floating in the air above the gun: "$25". "Aw are you f--". Player 1 was back and he beat Leroy on the back of the head with a double-fisted smash. Dazed, Leroy had just enough cognitive power to decide he wasn't going to play fair with this guy. Leroy slammed Player 1 right in his unmentionables with a powerful uppercut. The man doubled over, almost falling on top of Leroy. An announcement rang out.
"Player 2 has been gifted $5."
Leroy reached this time instead for the knife. "$5" floated above it and as he moved his hand and grabbed the knife the "$5" disappeared and was replaced with a check mark before fading away. Another announcement: "FINISH HIM!"
Leroy had never killed a man before and had no desire to do so now. However, he saw no other way to escape this hell so he did what he had to do. He stabbed Player 1 over and over and over again, blood spewing everywhere in thick strings. A loud fanfare sounded as he dropped the knife and laid back, panting. The victory bells were more like sirens, but they were still comforting because they meant, he presumed, that he was safe.
==============================
The police arrived moments later to see a man sitting beside a thoroughly destroyed scarecrow decoration in Mrs. Suttertan's kitchen. The officers searched the man and found several drops of acid in a baggie on his person. After securing the perp in handcuffs the head officer called up to Mrs. Suttertan: "it's okay to come down now, you're safe ma'am! Now could I get a statement from you on exactly what went on here?"
Mrs. Suttertan then proceeded to recount to the officer how the thief broke in via the back window next to the kitchen. She told the officer how she was cleaning out her attic and was taking an old Halloween decoration downstairs to throw out when she saw the man and dropped the scarecrow. She told him how the man wrestled drunkenly with the scarecrow for a good 5 minutes until they arrived. "And well, you see the rest."
"Thank you ma'am," the officer said. "You did good calling 911 right away. We'll keep a few extra patrols in this area as a precaution, but you should be safe now."
The officer left the scene, a lesson first learned in 1969 once again reinforced as he looked at the bag of drugs. Never take the brown acid. | Mark had been casing the house for weeks… and his source said it was supposed to be an easy job. The plan was simple, while the owner was out of town for the week, he would climb the tree just outside the house, enter through the 3rd story window, and make his way to the treasure vault down in the basement. Mark’s source even gave him all the schematics to the alarm system… but there was nothing about this in the schematics.
Mark was trying to get a feel for the room he was in as the recorded voice kept repeating itself over the loudspeaker: “Welcome. Player 2 has entered the game.”
The room was small and very bland looking. Other than the steel curtains now blocking the window behind him, there wasn’t a lot of color in the room. It looked to be somewhat of an office, or work area of some sort. A small desk was in the corner with what looked like a typewriter. There was also an old style rotary phone on the desk. The thing most out of place in the room was next to the one and only door for the room. It was a small panel, with four different colored buttons: red, blue, yellow, and green.
Mark began to mutter to himself. “Who the hell would put a control panel for a door lock on the inside of a room? Wouldn’t it be better to put it out in the hallway to keep people out of a room?”
A new voice started to come in over the speaker. “Welcome, Player 2! My goodness, it’s been ages since I got to play a game! I’m so excited!”
Mark began to look around the room in a frantic manner. “Who’s there!? What’s going on!?”
“Oh…” The voice sounded somewhat letdown. “You mean, you entered the house and don’t even know the rules?”
“Rules? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Well, let’s go over the basics. First, what should I be calling you?”
“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?”
“Hmmm… That is a strange name, how about I just continue to refer to you as Player 2? I am the A.I. of this house. I oversee the participants and make sure they are enjoying themselves. As you can see, you are currently locked in a room. The control panel with the four buttons will unlock the door with the correct combination. Your goal is to make it into the next room. Sound like fun?”
Mark went over to the panel next to the door. “So you're telling me I need to hit these buttons in a specific order, and the door will unlock?”
“That’s right! You are catching on.” The voice almost sounded full of glee, like a child who hadn’t played with a toy for a long time.
Mark began to fiddle with the buttons and press them randomly. “Hmmm… I have no idea how long the code is or anything. I may have to hit some buttons more than once for example.”
“Ummm… excuse me player 2, I wouldn’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“You see, if you enter the wrong code, well… It won’t be pretty.”
A pre-recorded voice came back on. “Game Over.”
Mark looked around a little bit. “Game over? What does that mean?”
The A.I. voice came back on. “It means the room will now self-destruct and you die. Good try Player 2.”
The room erupted with a flash, and in the blink of an eye, Mark was dead.
---------------------
Mark’s feet reached the floor. The room was oddly… familiar. A steel curtain over the window, the room devoid of any real decorations, a desk in the corner with the typewriter and the phone, the panel next to the door, and the annoying recorded voice on repeat. “Welcome. Player 2 has entered the game.”
Mark looked around the room again, “Didn’t I die?”
The voice of the A.I. started to come over the speaker. “Welcome back Player 2. You indeed did die. The owner of this house is a genius scientist. He outfitted me with the ability to alter time and space within the confines of this house. I simply rewound time back to when you entered the room. It’s like you have unlimited lives! Isn’t that great!”
“Yeah… that’s fantastic. So I’m stuck in this house until I complete this little game. By the way, why am I player 2? Who is player 1?
The A.I. was silent for a bit. “That’s the best part…" The voice went deep as it uttered the next words, "I am.” After a bit of silence, the voice went back to normal, "you may either refer to me as player 1, or GM. Let's have fun player 2!"
| 2016-10-05T12:26:51 | 2016-10-05T11:23:43 | 115 | 12 |
[WP] The last time the aliens invaded our planet they fled after losing the war. They have reluctantly returned to wage war and are relieved to see that dinosaurs no longer inhabit Earth, but have been replaced by the smaller and less intimidating humans. | Dear Xthial,
We Landed on Yuttai today, although now its called Earth and ran by tiny bipeds, No more Yuts or Raptors as they call them now. The most obvious change is a completely new biosphere with only a few left overs from the past. De-orbiting a moon tends to do that though, no evidence of where the Yuts went, the rest of the system has been cleaned and oddly enough the asteroid belt was replenished.
The humans welcomed us with open arms, while first impression of them was that they were peaceful. The open access they gave us of their Info-net showed us more then we could have asked. They glorify violence, eat other sapient beings, and deny the ecological collapse that they are the cause of. On an individual level, hate is widespread with genocide being a common solution to anything difference. This has lead us to classify them worse then the Yuts, who while strictly carnivores, did not war on the level humans do. War plans are unchanged, the main fleet arrives tomorrow and we shall remove the threat to the numerous sapient life on this planet.
Some things to remember the human military is based completely on planet, the tactical considerations of this should make itself apparent. Public info sources state the nuclear armament is massive, with multiple launch vehicles capable of delivering a payload to an orbit of up to 3 million km, . They do have a scorched earth concept which may result in gained territory being nuked, however the weapons don't have self defense capabilities simply shooting them down should be enough.
To a Quick victory,
Zenti | "A parting shot causing mass destruction to the land was our last effort to win a war that we had clearly lost. The terrible lizards lived up to the expectations. Almost unkillable, they tore our ranks apart. The damn things could stow away anywhere and all of them were dangerous. Finally, we laid waste to come back another day and left Earth.
The day of our glorious return was at hand. The beings are different, smaller without claws and razor sharp teeth. Now is our time. The world is ours, their resources will feed our world for 10,000 lifetimes. The terrible lizards were mindless killing machines. These beings are a little different."
I kept up the braggadocio, but that was a mistake. I would pay for my arrogance. We sent an incursion force. It was only a dozen ships or so. At least we had the element of surprise. Our first target was easy, a secret base near a place whose name didn't translate well into our language: Rose Well.
What happened was considered an embarrassment, but the worst was yet to come. The ships bombed the base, but the humans had advanced weapons. I watched as our ships disappeared, one by one. None of them came back, but we had a larger force ready to go. One defeat was expected though not nearly so lopsided.
But, the next event was unexpected. Out of the oceans came a bubbling. Our sensors picked it up, but what it was remained unclear. Out of the depths came thousands of ships. We were never concerned about the liquid, but we should have been. We hit them with our full force, everything we had, but it was to no avail. Every ship of ours was destroyed, except for mine. Our was force was annihilated in a Scorzar minute, and our sole surviving ship was boarded.
The beings that entered were not what I was expecting. I thought they would loo like the humans, but the terrible lizard foe from our past stared back at me. She was not large, but she still looked the part. They had been waiting for us.
"Tell your kind what you have seen today and do not come back. If you do, your home system will pay for your arrogance."
And with that, she left. The humans seemed defeatable given enough time and resources, but the terrible lizards were not. So, we accepted our defeat, and we went home to tell nightmares about those terrible lizards.
***
If you enjoyed this story, I'm also working on a story starring Batman and Superman called Alienated. [Here is part I.](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickkuvaas/comments/4phzj3/batman_superman_and_the_aliens_part_i_the_superman/) | 2017-03-03T20:01:19 | 2017-03-03T19:09:49 | 1,292 | 260 |
[WP] You are a normal person who spent your entire life infiltrating the evil Empire. You even became the Emperor's right hand. The day before you finally topple the Empire, the hero arrives, kills the Emperor, and saves the day.
Now how does that make you feel? | I stepped around the feeble, emaciated corpse of the emperor. His blood had begun to pool, simply ruining the lush carpet in front of his throne.
“You killed him,” I said, my long held mask of subservience fading into incredulity.
“It was a long journey,” the hero responded, “But no longer will our people suffer under his tyranny.” he leaned over to wipe the blade of his sword on the emperor’s robe. Unceremoniously, he slipped the sword back into its scabbard and turned to leave.
“This isn’t a solution,” I said, mouth agape, “I mean, I could have done that!”
“But you didn’t,” the hero said, looking over his shoulder.
“That’s not the point,” I nudged the dead emperor with my foot. “Do you understand how an empire works?”
The hero turned back around fully, placing his armored fists firmly against his hips.
“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” He said.
“That’s precisely the problem,” I lectured, shoving the emperor’s corpse over onto its back. The already skeletal face stared serenly at the ceiling, forever free of responsibility. “The man was 82, a strong breeze could have killed him.”
“But it didn’t,” the hero said firmly.
“Have you ever heard of the term ‘Power Vacuum’?” I asked, prying the crown from the emperor’s head. “It would be one thing if you intended to seize the empire for yourself, but as it stands, you seem all too keen to leave.”
“My job here is done,” the hero stated, his mouth slowly curling into a lazy smile. “I wouldn’t have worked nearly so hard if I thought there was more to do after killing him. I plan to retire to a life of luxury back on the farm. Maybe buy a a few cows...”
“Who will collect the taxes? Who will dispatch troops to quell bandit raids?” I was growing heated, but there seemed little reason to stop myself. “You think the government just runs itself, do you?”
“Perhaps you should take over,” the hero offered.
“It’s not that simple!” I said, and then threw my hands up in exasperation. “He was supposed to officially declare me to be his heir tomorrow morning. Then I would have killed him, first thing Monday afternoon.”
“I’m sure,” the hero rolled his eyes.
“These things are important. Without paperwork, what’s to stop anyone from making a claim on the throne?” I asked, before pointing to the Grand Councillor, who was attempting to look nonchalant in the corner of the throne room. “He had the emperor’s ear as much as I did, what’s to keep him from taking over?”
“It’s true,” the Grand Councillor said sheepishly, “I planned on killing him Tuesday.”
“See? Tuesday.” I parroted.
“The impression that I am getting, is that no work is accomplished on the weekend,” the hero said.
“Look, we work hard during the week...” I said, before the Grand Councillor interrupted to affirm;
“Very hard,”
“Right, yes, very hard. Are we not entitled to a day off? I didn’t realize I had a deadline.” I finished.
“Quite literally!” the hero quipped, all too proud of himself. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other things to do.” He didn’t pause this time, leaving the throne room at a quick pace.
“Do you still want this?” I held the crown out to the Grand Councillor. He shook his head vehemently.
“Oh no, you take it,” he said, and then considered. “Do you have any plans for Tuesday?” | Today is the day I kill Emperor Fargon.
The crimes he committed must no longer remain unpunished. The people of the Hilmon Galaxy need their savior, and I will be that man to them. I am a champion of the common folk, the light in the dark void of an amoral empire, the hero hiding behind the guise of the Emperor's right hand man.
It's been nearly a decade since I infiltrated the empire. Years ago I lived peacefully as a jorb farmer on Grillax with a loving wife and two young daughters, ages 7 and 12 respectively. My jorbs won accolades for being the juiciest jorbs on the planet. Oh yes, I lived the Grillaxian dream.
Then the empire stole my happiness away.
The skies darkened. Above my inconspicuous farm hovered a quite conspicuous Heliship. Suddenly, men armed with scimitar shotguns rained on my farm and our village. Later I learned a foreign spy had taken residence in the local pub, but that moment felt as if we were being punished for nothing. The swarm knocked me unconscious before I had time to blink.
As my eyes reopened and the fog lifted from my concussed brain, I noticed him. Emperor Fargon loomed over my wife's dead body and turned to my children. Tears began streaming down my face. I opened my mouth to cry out for help, I told my body to rush to my daughters and save them from this fiend, but my body was paralyzed from the head injury. He reached out to my eldest daughter and snapped her neck without a hesitation, as if he were playing a game and had no humanity left in his soul. Then he grabbed my younger daughter and took her as his prisoner. All feeling left my heart except for rage. I vowed at that moment I would be the one to end the Empire's reign and feel the Emperor's neck snap between my cold hands. I blacked out.
When I awoke, I set out with my plan. I burned half of my face to hide my identity. Then, I joined the Empire to take them down from the inside. I killed for the Empire time and time again as I slowly moved up the ranks. The blood on my hands kept me awake every night, but I made sure to only end the lives of soldiers and not civilians. I will not stoop to Fargon's level. Finally I reached a rank where the Emperor would listen to my advice. A couple of well thought out counter strikes against the Resistance and I earned myself a seat as the Emperor's right hand man.
Tonight, the Emperor asked me to make him a feast. We just conquered Talian, one of the final Resistance holding spots, and it was time for celebration. I knew I could not physically take the Emperor down myself, so I concocted poison that will render him unconscious so I can feel his neck snap in my hands like he felt my innocent daughter's neck snap.
The food is here now, and the emperor picks up his fork to enjoy his final meal. My time is finally here......
Rosencrantz, a no name soldier, rushes in.
"There's a breach in the ship's hull, sir!" he screeches. The Emperor looks displeased.
"Send out the first unit and take care of these pests."
As he spews the command, he stands up from his meal.
"No time for food now, we must reach the planning room."
Fuck. Well, the meal will be here for him to consume later.
"Yes, master," I say begrudgingly, having thought my days of groveling were over just moments ago.
We briskly walk through the corridors. And then, he walks in. Tall, dark, and handsome. He flashes a grin with sparkling charisma and draws his pulse cannon. He aims at me.
Blam.
My ass skids across the floor. I am in a delirium. As I come to I notice a blade entering the Great Leader. Oh. He is dead now. How about that. Not even a snapped neck.
"Looks like I'm just a cut above the rest," the hero chortled. Maybe I will snap his neck instead.
He points his gunblade at me.
Bang.
The gunshot punctures my lung.
"Fuck... I.. was going to kill him today you fool... why..." I gurgled to our new hero.
"Aw well, I guess some people are just casualties of war."
Is that all I am? My entire family, including myself, are just casualties of war? I killed hundreds... no, thousands of men fighting for the Resistance just to gain the trust of one man to kill. I stood by his side as he destroyed civilization after civilization. And I am now dying as his right hand man after watching him die. I will die a villain.
Oh well, at least the benefits were nice.
Curtain. | 2017-03-12T14:39:19 | 2017-03-12T10:31:44 | 222 | 77 |
[WP] You are a normal person who spent your entire life infiltrating the evil Empire. You even became the Emperor's right hand. The day before you finally topple the Empire, the hero arrives, kills the Emperor, and saves the day.
Now how does that make you feel? | I stepped around the feeble, emaciated corpse of the emperor. His blood had begun to pool, simply ruining the lush carpet in front of his throne.
“You killed him,” I said, my long held mask of subservience fading into incredulity.
“It was a long journey,” the hero responded, “But no longer will our people suffer under his tyranny.” he leaned over to wipe the blade of his sword on the emperor’s robe. Unceremoniously, he slipped the sword back into its scabbard and turned to leave.
“This isn’t a solution,” I said, mouth agape, “I mean, I could have done that!”
“But you didn’t,” the hero said, looking over his shoulder.
“That’s not the point,” I nudged the dead emperor with my foot. “Do you understand how an empire works?”
The hero turned back around fully, placing his armored fists firmly against his hips.
“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” He said.
“That’s precisely the problem,” I lectured, shoving the emperor’s corpse over onto its back. The already skeletal face stared serenly at the ceiling, forever free of responsibility. “The man was 82, a strong breeze could have killed him.”
“But it didn’t,” the hero said firmly.
“Have you ever heard of the term ‘Power Vacuum’?” I asked, prying the crown from the emperor’s head. “It would be one thing if you intended to seize the empire for yourself, but as it stands, you seem all too keen to leave.”
“My job here is done,” the hero stated, his mouth slowly curling into a lazy smile. “I wouldn’t have worked nearly so hard if I thought there was more to do after killing him. I plan to retire to a life of luxury back on the farm. Maybe buy a a few cows...”
“Who will collect the taxes? Who will dispatch troops to quell bandit raids?” I was growing heated, but there seemed little reason to stop myself. “You think the government just runs itself, do you?”
“Perhaps you should take over,” the hero offered.
“It’s not that simple!” I said, and then threw my hands up in exasperation. “He was supposed to officially declare me to be his heir tomorrow morning. Then I would have killed him, first thing Monday afternoon.”
“I’m sure,” the hero rolled his eyes.
“These things are important. Without paperwork, what’s to stop anyone from making a claim on the throne?” I asked, before pointing to the Grand Councillor, who was attempting to look nonchalant in the corner of the throne room. “He had the emperor’s ear as much as I did, what’s to keep him from taking over?”
“It’s true,” the Grand Councillor said sheepishly, “I planned on killing him Tuesday.”
“See? Tuesday.” I parroted.
“The impression that I am getting, is that no work is accomplished on the weekend,” the hero said.
“Look, we work hard during the week...” I said, before the Grand Councillor interrupted to affirm;
“Very hard,”
“Right, yes, very hard. Are we not entitled to a day off? I didn’t realize I had a deadline.” I finished.
“Quite literally!” the hero quipped, all too proud of himself. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other things to do.” He didn’t pause this time, leaving the throne room at a quick pace.
“Do you still want this?” I held the crown out to the Grand Councillor. He shook his head vehemently.
“Oh no, you take it,” he said, and then considered. “Do you have any plans for Tuesday?” | "Good job breaking it, hero," I managed to spit out through the blood and half-missing, mangled flesh that was my right cheek.
"What? Emperor Tranithis Rex lies dead by my hand. I have won the day!"
"No, Arctus, you haven't. Tranithis has ruled for over 2000 years, without pause or sizeable opposition. Didn't you consider that before your plucky revolution made its way to the palace? You're just plucky revolution #35. You're glamorous, well-toned hero #73. You'll be name lost to history as the emperor purges every reference to you, your family and all your friends, save those in his personal logbook, #5321. You've also strengthened his defenses against future incursions and broken the only weapon that can destroy his physical body in the epic battle to the death that preceded this. Did you really need to throw the sword into the fucking volcano with him?!"
I was incensed. Years of planning went into this. I knew when the next revolution would attempt and fail to dislodge Tranithas. I had set the guards on the schedule exactly opposite their plans to infiltrate the fortress here atop Mount Flegathon. I had ensured that the volcano had been prepped with a ritual that would raise lava and heat levels to the point necessary to destroy the wards on his body and cauterize the wounds from the blade; this was the only way to kill him.
Then Artus the Dimwitted showed up. Never the brightest hero, I thought his brother, Severus Darkbane would be leading the charge. He was, but apparently was felled in combat by a rogue arrowshot in battle two weeks ago. Severus and I had an understanding. Severus knew my story and the plan. He knew I was here only to avenge the destruction of my village at the beginning of the emperor's long reign. He knew I had sold my soul, and the ruler-ship of the kingdom to the strongest of the demons of the hells to learn the secrets needed to compromise the emperor's wards and turn the volcano, the source of his power, into the source of his undoing. His brother knew none of this, and thought stabbing the bastard would kill him. Artus had lived up to his name.
"Arctus, I'M ON YOUR SIDE!!! BEFORE YOU STRODE IN HERE LIKE A BIG DUMB DOOFUS, WE HAD A PLAN IN PLACE TO KILL THE FUCKING EMPEROR. THAT SWORD DESTROYS HIS BODY BY SAPPING IT OF THE ENERGY GIVEN TO HIM BY THE FIRE OF THE VOLCANO. BY THROWING IT IN THERE, YOU HAVE MERGED HIS LIFE FORCE WITH THE BLADE, AND THUS THE VOLCANO. THE VOLCANO WHOSE POWER IS THE SOLE DOMAIN OF BELPHEGOR, DEMON LORD OF FLAME, AND THE EMPEROR'S BOSS!"
In the undeniably terse exchange, Arctus and I had failed to notice that the volcano keep's lavaplume fireplace had just been host to the arrival of a new figure. In all the chaos, I had forgotten that the last part of our plan, the reason I needed Severus at all, had come to claim his due.
"Ahem. Am I interrupting something?"
"Belphegor...you're early."
"Yes, I am. I got wind of your little scheme to absorb the emperor's power into the blade, then use that to lure me here for the binding ritual necessary to lock us both away for eternity. I gave him the powers that sustained him. Did you really think I wouldn't look into your motivations, Vasyk? Now, kill him for me, Arctus. I wish to have my... I mean your place on the throne secured for all time."
And with that, Arctus put an arrow through my heart. The last thing I saw was that stupid, gaping grin he always had on his face.
*Moments later, back in Hell*
"You know Vasyk, you really shouldn't have tried to screw me like that. You've known me for long enough to know I always do my due diligence on infernal contracts. The old "use the one weapon of power to imprison both ancient evils" trick? It's the oldest one in the book. Your vengeance line didn't hold up on inspection, considering you had plans to off me too. Too bad Severus trusted his little brother Arctus so much that he let him in on the details of the plan. Arctus really hated being in his brother's shadow, you know?"
"So, eternal torment then, Belphegor?"
"Not really. It would be a waste of your top-notch administrative skills, and Arctus can't run a cheap tavern, let alone a vast empire. No, you'll return as his infernal advisor, ensuring my will be done from now until the end of time. Thanks to selling me your soul, I have your true name to hold against you this time around."
"Well fuck. A promotion."
| 2017-03-12T14:39:19 | 2017-03-12T12:55:51 | 222 | 64 |
[WP] After people die, they must answer a riddle, and its difficulty depends on their sins. You've committed genocide. | I hear a knock, and look up.
"Hey Dave, your 10:15 is here. Dude's got a KDR or like, 12466064.34 or something."
*Oh, shit. This guy. Forgot.*
"Hah, wow. How did he get .34 of someone, right? Anyways, show him in."
"Will do. Hey, what are you gonna hit him with? You never submitted your riddle for peer review, and well, this case has a lot of eyes on it, if you know what I mean."
*Oh, fuck off. Stop angling for my job.*
"I submitted it with that buggy new web app they asked us to use. Tell them to ask Ted about it."
"Sure man, sure. Alright, seeya!"
"Yep."
*Fuck. Stupid peer review. Stupid riddle. How the hell was I supposed to come up for something like this? They cut training, and then ask for this shit...*
I look up, and see the shade of a judged one enter the room.
*Ideas, ideas. Maybe... nope, that's terrible.*
"So, they brief you out there?"
"Yes. You ask, I answer."
*Damnit. What's black and white and re... No. What about the three legs one? Ugh, no.*
"Okay, great... Your riddle is..."
*Wait, wha...*
"What have I got in my pocket?" | There was no bright light. No singing angels, nor pits of hell. It was like I woke up from a night's sleep - only I was standing, fully clothed and aware of everything. There was an odd, hum of calm that seemed to surround everything, which was nothing at all. A woman who stood in the nothingness, an emotionless expression on her face. She was fit, but not gaunt; solemn but not sad; quiet, but not quite yet unnerving. She was as average and mousy as they came.
"I am young, I am not gallant. I am old, I am not wise. I am not good, I am evil. What am I?" Her voice could have put me to sleep, had the situation been different.
"Excuse me?" My tone was sharp and I can only imagine the look of utter confusion on my face.
"You have to answer in order to determine your fate," she said with the same unwavering tone. She repeated herself, slower this time. "I am young. I am not gallant. I am old. I am not wise. I am not good. I am evil. What am I?"
"My fate?" I scoffed. "I hate to inform you, but I'm dead. Whatever my fate was has already been decided." I don't know why I felt that's what was going on, but somehow I just knew. It was more of a fact in my bones than a feeling. The woman stared at me entirely too long before answering, as if the additional conversation were a nuisance.
"Yes, you have died. However, you fate is decided by how you answer the question. You are responsible for the deaths of 317 people." She paused, the number lingering in the air. "So, I'll ask again."
"I am young, I am not gallant. I am old, I am not wise. I am not good, I am evil. What am I?" I hated riddles, a stupid waste of time and brain space. I also had no idea what that had to do with those people - no, those animals. I did what needed to be done, judgment was for the weak.
"I have no idea." I really didn't and at this point didn't care to waste any more time on it.
"Are you sure you don't want to think about it any longer?" I saw her left eyebrow arch ever so slightly as she questioned.
"Yes, I'm sure. I told you, I have no idea." She looked down, nodding to herself, processing the answer through some unknown source, though only for a moment.
"I'm sorry, that is incorrect." Her voice was the same as when she first spoke. "The correct answer is you."
I guess it's my time to face judgment now. | 2017-06-02T23:41:49 | 2017-06-02T20:02:08 | 193 | 88 |
[WP] Your dad is wanted in twenty countries, your mom is a serial kille, your little brother is a genius hacker, and your little sister has just joined the Illuminati. None of them would ever want to anger you, though. | 6/4/17
Dear Journal,
My acceptance letter came today. I finally got into University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign after 3 years of hard work. The classes weren’t too bad but the SAT prep, extracurricular activities, and my family have kept me very busy.
Dad’s involvement in politics keeps him busy. He’s always rushing away to Europe, Russia, the Middle East, and God know where else. I joke with him and call him Jason Bourne. He laughs but I have a gut feeling that Bourne might just be a Hollywoodizing of his life.
Mom has been helping me with my martial arts and self-defense training. It’s sometimes scary how good she is with knives and her in depth knowledge of incapacitating someone.
Darrel got called out of class today to help with some “emergency” at the NSA. His life always revolves around computers. Of course, he is going to MIT this fall. Only 2 years before he is supposed to graduate.
I had to stop by the cleaners on the way home to pick up Glavine’s robes. She’s already graduated so I don’t know how she gets so much use out of it. I always accuse her of running off to her “secret” meetings with all of dads’ friends in high places but she says that they aren’t invited.
--Mom yells up the stairs— “Theodore. Dinners ready.”
My family leads a pretty busy life which is why I just want to do something boring. I just want to be an accountant.
| This is my first time writing this type of stuff so please bear with me. :)
Story begins:
Me: My whole Family are known for doing illegal things, heck even I admit they do those stuff.
Me: But I know you're wondering why wouldn't they want me to join in their.....well..... escapades?
Agent: Tell me why?
Me: Well...... It's because it uses up a lot of time, and you know time is money, I'm busy managing my business my passion, and my family knows that nothing gets past my pancake business.
Me: Blood may be thicker then Water but Maple syrup is even thicker then blood. Thats my Code and my family understands that, since dedication is our family's thing.
Agent: Interesting. So you would priortize your "Pancake business" over your own family. But why pancakes and do you interact or receive help or help your family?
Me: I love pancakes! Since I was a kid in the oprhanage with my younger brother and sister. Pancakes were what they served every Saturday and Sunday and it was the most delicious thing yet.
Me: But one day, after we got back to the orphanage from a little celebration somewhere, where all ophans, me and my siblings included. We saw the orphanage was destroyed, the destruction of the orphanage the recipe for the pancakes and the person who made them were all lost. The one thing that made living there worth it.
Agent: How does this relate to you not joining with your family?
Me: We're getting there.
Me: After that we were forced to live in rubbles of the orphanage, and one day my parents arrived and took me and my siblings with them.
Me: I eventually found out my Parents destroyed the orphanage since it was quite a process just to get us, and they left us there to teach us the cruelity of the world, I guess it to mold us into them.
Me: I didn't care about that. What I cared about was the lost of the pancakes and threw a tantrum until
Mother: If you love those pancakes so much why not make them.
Me: I took a liking to that idea, and exploiting the part that they felt sorry for me that the one thing I loved was lost forever. I asked them if I can set on a quest to try to remake those pancakes. A quest they all respected. So for a few years I stayed with my family grew up until I was ready. After that I set out.
Me: Before I left my parents gave me money and stuff I would need to live. After that we never saw each other again. Guess our lives were a little too busy to meet each other.
Agent: Very well. Story checks out. You may leave.
Me: Thanks! Be sure to come to my Business. Remember the name "Panned Cake" at the corner of the street near this place.
| 2017-06-04T09:52:41 | 2017-06-04T05:32:37 | 32 | 10 |
[WP] Your dad is wanted in twenty countries, your mom is a serial kille, your little brother is a genius hacker, and your little sister has just joined the Illuminati. None of them would ever want to anger you, though. | You've probably never heard
About the kid
No one dared to cross
Not the sister
Not the brother
Not the mother
Not the father
The sister joined a cult
One stranger than the rest
The brother hacked the CIA
Simply because he was bored
The mother killed any person
That crossed her wrong
The father did things
That cannot be spoken of
Simply because
No one has ever
Done it before
Even then
None of them dared
To cross
This kid
Many wonder why
Many will never know
Few wonder
Few know
Those who wonder think
That they're safe
Those who don't
Think it's a myth
Only to find out
When it's too late
Those who know
Shudder at the thought
Of just catching a glimpse
You must wonder now
What could this kid
Possibly do?
This kid
Isn't human
And yet
Was born like one
This kid
Is all of our demons
Rolled into one
All of our nightmares
Rolled into one
All the horrible things
Of this Earth
Were scraped
To form
This so called child
To put us to sleep
When we've been here too long
Well now that was simply beautiful!
Utterly beautiful!
But I hate the ending
Just so you know
When you're falling asleep
Tonight
And you feel
Like you're being watched
And you've closed
Your closet
Your door
Your window
Just know
That I can still see you... | This is my first time writing this type of stuff so please bear with me. :)
Story begins:
Me: My whole Family are known for doing illegal things, heck even I admit they do those stuff.
Me: But I know you're wondering why wouldn't they want me to join in their.....well..... escapades?
Agent: Tell me why?
Me: Well...... It's because it uses up a lot of time, and you know time is money, I'm busy managing my business my passion, and my family knows that nothing gets past my pancake business.
Me: Blood may be thicker then Water but Maple syrup is even thicker then blood. Thats my Code and my family understands that, since dedication is our family's thing.
Agent: Interesting. So you would priortize your "Pancake business" over your own family. But why pancakes and do you interact or receive help or help your family?
Me: I love pancakes! Since I was a kid in the oprhanage with my younger brother and sister. Pancakes were what they served every Saturday and Sunday and it was the most delicious thing yet.
Me: But one day, after we got back to the orphanage from a little celebration somewhere, where all ophans, me and my siblings included. We saw the orphanage was destroyed, the destruction of the orphanage the recipe for the pancakes and the person who made them were all lost. The one thing that made living there worth it.
Agent: How does this relate to you not joining with your family?
Me: We're getting there.
Me: After that we were forced to live in rubbles of the orphanage, and one day my parents arrived and took me and my siblings with them.
Me: I eventually found out my Parents destroyed the orphanage since it was quite a process just to get us, and they left us there to teach us the cruelity of the world, I guess it to mold us into them.
Me: I didn't care about that. What I cared about was the lost of the pancakes and threw a tantrum until
Mother: If you love those pancakes so much why not make them.
Me: I took a liking to that idea, and exploiting the part that they felt sorry for me that the one thing I loved was lost forever. I asked them if I can set on a quest to try to remake those pancakes. A quest they all respected. So for a few years I stayed with my family grew up until I was ready. After that I set out.
Me: Before I left my parents gave me money and stuff I would need to live. After that we never saw each other again. Guess our lives were a little too busy to meet each other.
Agent: Very well. Story checks out. You may leave.
Me: Thanks! Be sure to come to my Business. Remember the name "Panned Cake" at the corner of the street near this place.
| 2017-06-04T07:41:59 | 2017-06-04T05:32:37 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers. You are a laughinstock, that is until you start using your power for evil... no one is laughing now. | I was born into a family of super heroes, and raised amongst the 'elite' of the League of Champions. I was expected to be an elite hero myself, but I wasn't born with any mystical powers like the rest. I was quickly disowned by my Übermencsh parents, mocked by my peers, and ridiculed by members of the League. I left home at the age of 23 to live a normal life -- study college, get a career going, that sort of stuff. I loved college and the normal people I have met. I passed with a perfect 4.0, went on to develop technology to help normal people combat meta humans, and married my loving wife.
Everything changed several weeks ago -- my life was destroyed by a massive battle between the League and their sinister sister group called the Chosen Few. My business was destroyed and my wife killed due to collateral damage. I slumped into an abyssal depression, because my life was once again influenced by those... those... self-righteous, egotistical, ass hats.
I grew angrier and angrier. A burning rage consumed my heart, a terrible bitterness enveloped my thoughts. I'd destroy these living gods and devils, with the power I have refused to use my entire life. My wife was the only one to have known about my power, but she loved me who I was not for the power I was given.
Fast forward three months....
I placed the boot of my power armor on Mystic's chest. He struggled to move my weighty leg aside, arms drained of energy. Tears rolled down his face begging me to stop my assault. I laughed.
"Why are you crying Mystic? This is a beautiful, blissful moment. Can't you feel the tension dissolving? Well, maybe you can't but I can." I sneered.
"Please stop! Not ag--- gruahhahh" Mystic cried out in agony.
"I really must see the others. Don't have too much fun!" I chuckled walking away from the twitching spellcaster.
I crossed into the meeting chamber where the other champions were a waiting me. Ultraman tore off towards me, but he was little more than fly swatted down. Onyx Ninja attempted, and I use attempted generously, to out maneuver me. Shadows and sneaking doesn't protect people from my abilities. A loud thud confirmed I was effective in my application of my powers. Star Nova surprisingly resisted my ability, but only momentarily. She fell just as hard as the rest.
"Who are youu...gahh." Star Nova winced, barely standing under my influence.
"I'm nobody important, but if you must know my name -- Dr. Ahegao, but I'm sure you'll remember it easily. I mean it's the face you're making after all!" I laughed maniacally.
| From a utilitarian point of view I was fairly impressive if I may say so myself. Our country, our closed country, under a threat from the entire world, protected only by the great revered leader, was filled with people with rather useful yet banal superpowers. Flight, extreme strength or endurance, usually just one at a time, even just two of them together was a rare occasion. Which brings me to myself, the laughingstock of the class who unfortunately was born with the capability of doing anything, so long as it is included in a Dethklok song. Odd and grotesque, and with the education system only teaching the very basics of the most simple powers, you don't exactly find your place.
I'm not going to tell you how life was a nightmare. It wasn't. I was a bit of a laughing stock, but I wasn't abused or even close to that. If anything it was the rather routine and boring life here that had me suffering. There weren't too many options here if you actually wanted to do something with yourself that wasn't being a factory worker, a cop a solider, or a criminal.
And so I decided to do the unthinkable, and leave for another country. where I am now it's called migration. Back home, however, merely visiting another country is frowned upon and migrating is considered defection unless under orders from the government or the military. Evil doesn't begin to describe what I am considered to be by my own family. Everyone who ever cared about me or I cared about sees me as an inconceivably evil demon, to be killed on sight. But as much as that stings, becoming a part of the outside world was one big truckload of food for thought.
It's not just the plethora of opportunities, or the extremely varied collection of abilities spread everywhere. Those are overwhelming at first, but are fairly trivial matters which you get used to. I very quickly started finding those things much more enjoyable than difficult. What really struck me hard, though, was getting a view on my country from the outside. All the things that I didn't know happened behind the scenes were fairly common knowledge here. I learned the reason for the variability of abilities in the outside world. My country, which I can barely consider as mine, was extremely afraid of people with unique powers, extremely afraid of people stepping out of line, being unique. Those who acted odd, or had odd powers or characteristics were systematically vaporized, unless they were extremely quiet, and damn near invisible, in order to maintain an image of solidarity and unity, in order to maintain the sovereignty of an impotent leader who sees himself above the country.
What I did next was risky. Mostly for my old country. Looking back I'd say I was being arrogant, putting my ideals before my the will, and even well being of my country man. I broadcasted myself to every single screen in the country, with, thunderhorse providing the electrical signal, Delivering a message that couldn't be unheared. All I was doing is giving my points of view, providing some input, backed by cold hard evidence, to my country.
The leader was not as revered now as those of the past were and I was hoping for the people's solidarity and very banal and logical thought process to be able to create a change without instigating too much instability. This, of course, was a huge risk. Who knows what could happen if they even believe me. A violent revolution would be a great opportunity for other countries who want to get some influence to jump in and make things even worse, and that's terrible enough without even considering the costs the revolution itself would have.
None of those possibilities were close to what happened in the end. The leader has made use of his ability as soon as the reform started. I now realized why we truly weren't allowed to migrate. Not so that we don't hear the wrong things, but so we don't stay out of the leaders range for too long and disconnect from his ability: the hivemind.
I've turned from demon to Satan himself in thee eyes of my countrymen I made a huge mistake, which's repercussions only time will tell... | 2017-06-12T08:54:20 | 2017-06-12T07:45:36 | 26 | 12 |
[WP] Your 14-year-old sister finally wakes up from a coma of 6 years. She panics when she realizes how much she's grown. | 6 years passed, her vitals remained normal for nearly the entire coma. I remember counting the days each time I visited her room (2,267, if you were wondering), every time I saw her motionless body was another punch to the gut. Walking through the hospital door reminded me of the car crash, I was only 17, *how was I supposed to know the guy behind us was drunk?* I still remember the day Emily woke up, it was unusually cold for September. I stood outside of the hospital, stopping to watch the brown leaves blow by as I stroked my bearded chin nervously. Determined to see my sister before I left Richmond, I entered the hospital. Nurses were rushing around as normal, the usual buzz. Checking in at the front desk, I made small talk with the staff. After so many visits I gradually became friends with the employees. Linda was usually at the front desk, if not it was Anna sitting behind the computer. Regardless, I found her room; 029. Reaching for the doorknob, I hesitated. Just another day. Just another step closer until she wakes up- *I hope.* Moving the door open, I tiptoed to her bedside, gently shutting the door behind me. The doctors told us that patients in a coma can still hear everything around them, so I did what I could to cope, I tried making conversations with my unresponsive sister. Scanning the room, I found that nothing had changed. The room was still a jumbled mess of IT's and cabinets, accompanied by technology I couldn't begin to understand. Suddenly I heard a grunt, startling me. I thought the impossible was happening, I thought I saw Emily's eyes open. Shaking my head I looked again, and began to cry. Emily was straining her eyes, confused as she looked at her newfound surroundings.
"W....whe..where am I?"
Sniffling I sat back down in the chair beside her bed.
"Emily. I need you to liste-"
"W-who are you?"
Pausing for a moment it struck me. It really had been six whole years.
"You've been... well, you've been gone a long time, so you're going to see a lot of things you won't understand."
"...I dont get it. What happened? What day is it? Aren't I missing school right now?"
"There was an accident. A car crash, to be specific. You've been in a coma ever since. "
"What? That doesn't make sense, wouldn't I be hurt if I was in a crash? Why does my chest feel heavy?"
As I spoke Emily froze in horror. Every word that came out of my mouth felt like someone ripping a bandaid off the hole in my heart. The hole where Emily used to be. It was time for that hole to heal.
"We're in the year 2018. You've been asleep for 6 years."
Emily stood still, processing everything I had just said. She looked back at me like I was a stranger, tears welling up in her eyes.
"No... how.. no! That can't be possible, where is my brother?"
"He's right here."
| We rushed to the hospital as soon as they called. After so many years, you tend to get used to the fact that your loved one in the hospital may never wake up. There were plans... discussions, late in the night, when mum and dad thought that I was asleep.
They talked about how keeping sis alive was draining into their savings, how the insurance was failing to keep up. They wondered if sis was ever going to wake up. Whether it was feasible to keep her barely alive.
"How long more, Sarah? Another five years? Ten years? Twenty years?" Dad's voice was more than enough to wake the entire street up. He was red all over and he stank of beer.
Mum was sitting by the kitchen counter, crying. "Damn it John! You know how important Lucy is to Karen. How are we going to tell her?"
Dad sighed, clearly frustrated. He tugged at his hair. "Twenty one, Sarah. If Lucy is still not up by twenty one, we need to pull the plug."
That was his final sentence, before he left the house, and slamming the door. Probably went back to drinking. And mum was left sitting alone, weeping. I wanted to comfort her, tell her that it was going to be okay. But instead, I sat on the staircase and prayed. I prayed the hardest I could. I prayed for Lucy to wake up. Every single day.
And finally, she did.
The trip to the hospital was quiet, tense. Both dad and mum did not even speak during the entire journey. I could only guess what was going on in their mind. I was too afraid to speak too, lest I say the wrong things. A part of me was happy that Lucy was finally back with us but another part of me was angry. Angry at the pain she caused our family for the past six years. It was difficult, trying to make sense of what I felt.
The doctors were silent when we approached. For a patient that has woken up after six years, I expected them to be happier. They stood with my parents in the sterile hallway, whispering. "There have been some... complications."
I could see both my parents turn white. Complications. A word that brought with it bad omens. Just like six years ago. Where complication meant that my sister would be in coma for god knows how long.
"Your daughter, Lucy, she may no longer be able speak and there's more-" I heard one of the doctors said, followed by mum's gasp. But I was no longer listening. I sneaked into Lucy's room, a room that I have been into more than I like. The machines beeped, as if welcoming me, pointing me to the bed in the middle.
Lucy was lying on her back, staring blankly at the light above her. I made my way towards her. I waved my hand over her face several times, but there was no reaction. I called to her, but there was no reaction as well. Only when I touched her shoulder did she react, recoiling in surprise. Her hands reached out to my face, and began rubbing violently against it.
She opened her mouth, as if wanting to say something, as if wanting to say something, but the only sounds that came out were groans and growls. When she realized that she was not able to talk, she pushed me away, and began sobbing loudly into her pillow.
It was then when I realized, that Lucy was no longer the Lucy I knew. She had lost her senses. I rushed over to comfort her, I wanted to hug her, but she shook her head wildly. I could see the panic on her face, how lost she felt, tears running down her eyes. She hated every moment of it.
I wanted to get mum and dad in, to perhaps step away for a moment, when I felt her grab my collar. She was mumbling rather erratically trying to form words. When she let go of me, the only discernible word that I heard was "please".
But she did not have to say anything anymore. We have been twins for fourteen years. Six years did little to sever our bond. I understood her completely.
"Alright then," I muttered, feeling the warmth of my own tears on my face as well. I took the pillow from her, and placed it over her face. My final act of love for Lucy.
------------------
*I know. This was supposed to be wholesome. But nope. There are wholesome stories at /r/dori_tales though :p* | 2017-08-02T06:44:21 | 2017-08-02T06:33:47 | 336 | 156 |
[WP] When you die, you wake up in an alien world holding a bong, with other aliens saying how was the trip. | "We're losing him!"
The muffled cries rang out within the dimly lit room. My two grandchildren, Austin and Abel, peered down at my wrinkled, cracked face. "Papi! Papi, papi...."
Papi. The words rang and bounced around my head, as my vision slowly faded into white. I could no longer hear anything, except for that one word. "Papi, papi...." Blackness.
It must've been years that I'd been in that void, before I got any sensation. The word was maddening. "Papi, papi..." No heaven. No hell. Just papi.
"HEY!" My eyes miraculously opened, revealing a dusty old wooden ceiling, with LED lights flashing around the shed. "Papi's awake Mercuto! Look at this!" A large, bi-pedal monster of a creature peered at me with amused, void-like eyes. "Dude, you must've been out for like, thirty minutes or something! How was the trip?" I was confused. "Who-who are you? Where the fuck am I?" I started to have a panic attack, exasperating heavily. "Woah woah woah, chill out man," the seemingly high alien pressed. "Must've been some side-effect of that shit that Lerunga sold us. Just relax man." I wheezed, coughing at the smell of whatever drugs these fuckers we're taking. "My wife... My grandchildren... where the hell are they!? And why do I have this- bong!?" I flailed my arms out, only to be horrified at the sight of tentacles.
"Holy shit..." Everything started coming back to me. I was a Goactzrim of Sector 75x, within the Andromeda Galaxy. I was four hundred thousand years old, fairly young for my species, but well beyond my "human years".
I was also a stoner.
"Oh my gosh, you won't fucking believe what I just went through, Eziblierg! I was a... human? They're like the primates of this planet, but they're bi-pedal like us. I had a whole family, went through school, owned a Yacht... All on this planet called "Earth". Damn man, I almost forgot I was a Goactzrim for a second there. You gotta stay off that shit, it's dangerous!" I laughed. Mercuto looked at me, a bit shocked. "Did you say you were a human- when you hit that stuff!? Dude..." I was a bit confused. "What about it? It's probably some made up shit anyways."
"No, I'm serious. Like 10 minutes ago, DNN just reported that they've found some alien technology on H-356... Its got the name, 'Voyager 1.'" I freaked out. "Yo! I remember that shit, they launched it back in the 70s! You probably don't even know what the '70s' is, now that I think about it..." Mercuto grew pale. "DUDE QUIT FREAKING ME OUT!" He was visibly shivering. "The hell's your problem man?" Eziblierg asked. "You need to keep that shit to yourself man... don't let the council hear you talking about that! Fuck, fuck, fuck..."
There was a knock at our door. When nobody answered, the door was kicked down. Empress Mayogria stood before us, with fifteen armed officers beside her. "Papi Azcleim? We need you, and that capsule of yours. Now."
| I woke with a *BONG!*
The sound echoed in my ears, and sent me in a panic. I scrambled to my fee, and felt blood rush immediately to my head - everything went red and I almost fell over. Hands steadied me.
"Easy, easy, mate," someone said.
"Calm down, Alex, you're not dead, you're not dead."
Dead. I was dead. My hands immediately went to my stomach. Looking for the whole where the sword had impaled me. i'd known he was feinting right, I'd known it! But still the bastard had gotten me.
But there was no hole.
I remembered to breathe again. I wasn't dead, I wasn't dead. Memories came rushing back, the ritual, the trip. Allie.
"Oh thank Kos, he's breathing again," Liz said.
"So, mate," Mark said, putting a hand on my shoulder "how did the trip go for you?"
I looked around, taking in my surroundings. I was on some sort of mountain peak, standing on a platform that was about as big as a normal room. There were clouds in all directions around us, the only things on the platform were the three of us, our bags and a giant, gold metal disc suspended by three poles. It still vibrated slightly from the earlier "bong" it had made. And there was Allie of course.
She lay on the wooden platform. Her eyes were closed - they had been for the past two stellar cycles. Her skin was a milky white, and her white hair fell down to her shoulders. Only her wings, a startling gold that were almost as big as her retained their color. The contrast against her pale skin and white hair was startling to say the least.
I'd failed her again dammit.
When I didn't answer Mark put his hand on my shoulder. "Sorry, mate," he said. I turned to look at him, his blond hair in disarray and the feathers of his wings rumpled. His blue eyes told me all I needed to do. He'd failed too.
"She's gone, Alex, her soul is past the seventh gate by now, we can't bring her back," Liz said.
She came in front of me and knelt down in front of me, putting her hands on my shoulders. Her green eyes looked into my eyes, her red hair and crimson wings adding to the effect. "She's dead, Alex, we tried. We came all the way to this mountain, we did the stupid ritual, but we failed. We've done all we could," she said, her words almost pleading.
"No," I said, looking away from those startlingly green eyes. "I won't give up on her, Liz, I can't."
"She's dead, Alex," Liz said, shaking her head, "Permanently, now. We can't get her back."
I shook my head, indignant. "I'm trying again."
Liz closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her wings shuddered. When she opened those eyes again, all traces of sympathy were gone. She wasn't looking at me anymore, but behind me, at Mark. She nodded to him he did too, setting his jaw.
"Well, do it alone, then Alex," Liz said.
"Aye, mate," Mark said, "We've each gone down to the Nether three times now, we've been turned back and ejected every time. Let her go, mate. It's over."
I gaped at them. "You...you're giving up. After all those cycles, you're deserting her!"
"We're letting go, Alex," Liz said, her voice soft. "That's not deserting her, that's moving on."
I clenched my teeth. "Fine, then, go. Go without me dammit, but I'm staying. I'm not giving up on her."
"Mate.." Mark began, but Liz shook her head.
"We won't help you destroy yourself, Alex," she said, and gestured to Mark. "Come on, Mark. We're leaving."
Mark looked at me for a long moment, then nodded. "That we are." They both looked at me one last time before walking to the edge of the platform and flaring their wings, each as long as they were tall, and took off.
They didn't look back.
"Cowards," I said to Allie, stroking her hair. "I'll get you, love, I don't need them."
With that I hit the bong with the back of my fist, and lay down.
*BONG!*
The last of the sound echoed in my ears as I was pulled back into the Nether to try to save not one soul, but two.
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) | 2017-09-02T13:23:56 | 2017-09-02T12:39:54 | 410 | 70 |
[WP] We are due for a visit by two alien races, one which is horrifically brutal and sees us as soft-hearted weaklings, the other peaceful pacifists who see us as barbarians. You've been ordered to impress them, but when the ships lands you realize you have no idea which race this is. | "You've taking a pair of vinyl records to meet with the aliens." I'm accosted by my supervisor walking out to the meeting site.
I shrug. "Well, music transcends all bounds. Plus, it gives us a few minutes to gauge their reaction."
"OK, humor me. What are you taking?"
"Well, a whole lot more is coming along, but I'm gonna gauge it on these." I hold up two records. "Two copies of 'Elanor Rigby'. One of arguably the most mellow pieces in existence. I figure if they're the peaceful ones, they'll want more of it."
"And if they're the brutal ones?"
"If they look dissatisfied, I'll say, 'This is what we were able to do with it.'" I hold up Realm's thrash metal version of it.
"Cheeky bastard."
As I walk out, I smile. "That's why you pay me!"
Besides, both versions were pretty good. At least I'd enjoy listening to them. Ah, just like my college radio days... If I was going to go out, at least it'd have a decent soundtrack.
[Elanor Rigby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HuS5NuXRb5Y)
[Realm's thrash cover of Elanor Rigby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q9XNoU3tHqU) | This was it. On the other side of the door stood some form of life disposed to greet and work with us, or to kill us. And we hadn't the slightest idea which it was.
The fat cats in Washington, though, they had an idea. It had never been done before, but they put their best men on the job. Real, good bureaucratic men. Men that took their time, whether they were getting anything done or not.
And the big day, it came hard. The ship careened into Washington, D.C.'s airspace like hot glue coming down some otherwise-prude bureaucrats nipples. It settled in right near the Pentagon, where it stood erect.
And then we unleashed our plan. Not knowing the disposition of these little visitors-- they were either to greet us with extreme violence or extreme fabulousness (and I mean fabulousness with jazz hands)-- we put together the only solution we knew how. We worked tirelessly to resurrect the brilliantly funny and spastic one and only, Robin Williams.
And he ran up to the space ship's door like they were giving out free body-hair removal cream. He bolted. Those aliens, no matter what kind they were, they were about to be gobsmacked. He knocked terribly loud, and as the door slowly inched open he grabbed it with both hands and yanked it open wider.
"Hello? Hello! Hello! Open sesame, mi maestra from anoza planeta!"
The aliens tried to speak, but our plan had indeed backfired. We knew we could count on Robin to utterly baffle these visitors, but we realized we could never get him to stop.
"Aye, y u no can hear me?" he cackled in his best Spanish accent, "U fly all dis way, esse, all dis way n u can no understand? Were u from esse?"
For what it's worth, reading the alien's faces wasn't too successful either. Throughout all this they appeared at times distressed and at other times angry. But one thing was clear: Robin was showing them that our race wasn't a bunch of pushovers. After about eight more minutes wherein Robin hit every major nationality, came on hard to the alien crew, and did a 8 inch line of coke off the top of one of their heads in the middle of a joke about Pablo Escobar, the aliens relented.
Looking back, we consider it a victory. If they were the passive nice aliens then we came off creative at best, psychotic at worst. But if they were the violent cohort-- can you imagine how much was averted? Robin Williams, single-handedly with nothing but a Hawaiian shirt and some coke, saved the world.
Damn, I miss that bastard. | 2017-09-18T07:55:39 | 2017-09-18T07:52:36 | 38 | 27 |
[WP] At 18, everyone receive a superpower. Your childhood friend got a power-absorption, your best friends got time control, and they quickly rise into top 100 most powerful superheroes. You got a mediocre superpower, but somehow got into the top 10. Today they visit you asking how you did it.
Best friend* sorry. | "Keith you've got to be kidding me." Anne shouted at me. "You did what to Doctor Stranglethorn?"
"I simply used my power, walked into his lair, and threw bundle after bundle of flashbangs at him untill he submited." I replied bluntly.
"Keith. Your power is just the ability to chameleon yourself and anything you are holding into one SOLID colour. How could you possibly just, walk into Stranglethorns lair without him killing you instantly?" Asked Anne in a frustrated and highly irked tone.
"Well, you see I talked with a guy who said he remodeled some rich dudes mansion ago, said he got paid under the books about maybe a year ago to repaint the walls. Turns out that employer of his was Stranglethorn himself using some alias, er, Sweetwater I think he called himself." I said as I held back laughter.
"Keith, get to the god damn point." Anne said as she raised her fist at me.
"Okay okay, well get this. Stranglethorn painted his walls all in cyan, like such a hideous colour for a well known super villain. See he didn't just paint one room, he practically painted every god damn wall. Well anyway, I knew it was too good of an opportunity to pass so I snuck into his lair, and by sneak in I simply walked in, rolled around a bit, made myself look like I was cyan colored and hugged his wall while I made it to his chambe-." Is all I could say before I was cut off by Jim my best friend.
Jim took me by the scruff and slammed me into the wall. "Are you crazy Keith! You wouldn't survive if he caught you! What were you thinking?"
I quickly removed his hands from myself and stood up straight, brushing off my shoulders.
" Well Jim, I was thinking he was expecting someone with some kind of ability like super strength or telekinesis to come and fight him. Not some naked guy with bags full of flashbangs to come to his lair and pelt and blind him into submission." I spoke. "After that whole escapade, they awarded me this rank, said I did the world a favour, and here I am. 7th best hero in the world."
Jim sunk down to his feet as Anne stared angrily in disbelief at me.
In retrospect, what I did anyone could have done. I was just the first to try it out. | My first time writing in this subreddit... Please be gentle.
In an oddly satisfying thud, a magazine featuring the top 100 superhumans and all their interesting superpowers was strewn atop the table. Seeing the person who threw it was my Best friend, Altheia, even if possessing the gifted power of time control, I immediately rejected the idea that she's trying to brag. She's too shy to do such a thing. That smile though, that victorious smile, she probably took a hundred takes to do that impressively perfect throw.
Nastasha was with her, jack of all trades, master of none, She can temporarily absorb anyone's power (and attention) as her own. She's exactly the kind of person to jokingly brag.
Reginald, Archmagina, and Solara sniffed on the new object in the room. Blast just wanted to outright shred it, which I may or may not allow later.
"Aaaaand why show me this?"
"Don't tell me you didn't know!? You're ranked 9th on this list! Explain yourself!" Nastasha exclaimed in a way that made her looked kind of pissed.
ಠ_ಠ "huh..."
"She... isn't... joking..." Altheia said.
(°Д°) "Huuuuh!?"
I quickly grabbed the magazine, sure enough, I was there.
-----
"Ranked 9th. Eiri Watterson. Superpower : ability to tame animals
"On first glance, her ability is pretty mediocre but she has actually saved the state of New Megapolis and possibly the world from a class S, level 6 threat. As was recently declassified by the International Super Committee: A powerful, shape-shifting, creature had escaped and killed thousands of its staffs, hired heroes, and civilians on it's way. Tracking efforts have located the beast in the hands of Eiri, taking care of it disguised as a rabbit. Authorities have successfully taken the shapeshifter and 8 months later, the creature remained relatively tamed until its last dying moments.
" 'It was hotly debated it [the shapeshifter] was even a living thing, as it has no purpose of reproducing itself, let alone an animal. It was certainly a mystery and now that it's declassified, we're hoping to learn more from Eiri herself' said ISC spokeperson, Mulligan"
-----
Reading that... i don't really know what to feel, actually. But I guess its a combination of happy, fear, and surprise. Cringe is probably there too. Why did they never told me this even after the resolution, AND WHY DID THEY NEVER PAID ME!?
I looked at them. Nastasha was staring at me and savoring my reaction. Altheia was on her phone, sifting through more declassified information. "From last year, the mad psychic, the Megalodon, the puppeteer's tragedy, the crisis at Durrham Square... they're all just that shapeshifter"
Nastasha slowly turned her head, nervously speaking "W-w-wait... all those? How powerful is that thing?" She then turned to me, almost begging "How did you beat it, Eiri!? Tell meeee!"
"I don't knoow! I don't even remember how I met Lolipops" I said.
"Lo-lolipops?"
"He's a pink cotton-candy rabbit. A couple wanted to buy him for decent cash. They looked suspicious and that was 8 months ago too. So I think that's the shapeshifter."
Altheia proceeded to ask me "Was the cash totally large enough as payment for saving the world?
Genuinely pissed, I yelled "ABSOLUTELY NOT!" | 2017-12-17T22:57:16 | 2017-12-17T20:04:37 | 53 | 34 |
[WP] A masked vigilante starts fighting crime in Los Angeles, except everyone knows it's obviously Elon Musk. | It was late on Skid Row. The tweakers and gangbangers were doing their nightly grind. I was unfortunate enough to be around. I took a turn to a less populated street and before I could backpedal I heard it.
“Don’t move.”
Three large men surrounded me. The one in the center gripped a knife.
“Empty your pockets and walk away.” The man spoke coldly.
Suddenly I heard a distance noise.
It sounded like the song “Radar Rider” and it was growing louder.
A massive light was growing and hurling towards us. It was a Tesla Roadster coming out of the sky like a meteor!
We scattered out of its path, but the car completely obliterated the man in the middle.
In the smoking inferno of Tesla ash and appendages, a figure jumped forth.
It stood in a bright red metallic suit, with a massive “T” on the chest.
“Let him go!” Came a voice so recognizable it could command a cereal line.
The men, laying on the ground in a daze, looked up in confusion.
“Fine,” the masked billionaire vigilante said, thumbing his nose, “sorry, nothing personal.”
He grabbed the man nearest and placed a three piece rocket to his back. He then propelled him 50meters into the air before the side rockets split off making a perfect landing. The middle rocket carried him into orbit where he remains to this day.
The final man began crawling away was snatched up by the collar and asked trembling...
“What are you?”
The red suited figure responded in his immaculate CEO tone,
“I’m the Muskrat.”
He then threw the man into the air and ignited him with a flamethrower, which I imagine is fun.
He walked towards his burning car, but before leaving turned to me.
I was bloodied and bruised by the impacts and my hearing was completely gone. I was in shock, but I did hear his last words before he flew back into the stratosphere.
“Mars colonization will belong to the private sector, kiddo.” | **A Musky Era**
“FFUUUUUUCK!!!” I heard a wail from outside my window.
It immediately clicked in who it was that did that when I heard a crash in the dumpsters down below. There was only ever one vigilante in the world that was stupid enough to jump off roofs. And that was Elon Musk. Ever since he invented nano tech, he’s been jumping off roofs and *fighting* crime. This mostly ever amounted to him get tossed around like a rag doll by actual criminals with experience. But he did do a great job at scaring those who were to new to the whole thing.
But even with all that he just did more harm than good. He often got in the way of police investigations. And because of his antics criminals getting away were common. Though no one could convince him to hang up his cowl, or nano-suit in this case. So instead the government initiated a program just for him. In exchange for paying for his hero identification card every month to be able to *fight crime and stop evil*, his assistants would also have to relay any information to the police ahead of time.
Maybe with that plan the police would get to the scene way before Musk could, that way they’d have time to capture the criminal before anything bad could happen. But despite this, Musk never gave up.
And now here we were with a billionaire genius right outside my apartment complex inside the garbage can.
“Yo! Are you alright Musky!?!” I called out my window 5 stories below.
“I’m OKAY! And I do not know who this Musky is that you’re talking about!” He had landed so that he was facing up into the sky.
Even though everyone already knew who Phantom X was, Musk himself still believed that no one knew about his double life. Though with all the question that reporters asked about him being Phantom X you’d think that he’d get the hint that everyone was in on his *big* secret. But he just kept denying everything.
“If you say so!” I yelled back.
I watched, my chin on my hands, as he slowly stood up and brushed everything off. The steady waves of his nanites was pleasing to the eye.
“You got a little something on your head now!” I pointed to a banana peel that rested atop his noggin.
He picked it up delicately and turned up to see it. Throwing it away in disgust quickly thanked me.
“Thanks! Y’know a beautiful woman like you could do great at fighting crime if you had a mentor such as me,” I couldn’t tell what was going on beneath that mask of his, but I imagined he must be showing off his signature smolder.
“Uh, thanks, I’ll uh think about your offer,” I blushed. I didn’t know how to speak. As a 36 year old woman I really didn’t get many compliments anymore and my celebrity crush telling me I was beautiful was just too much for my brain to handle.
“Don’t think about it too long. Because when something is important enough, you do it even if the odds are not in your favor. Besides I might swing by tomorrow maybe even show you my secret identity. You were enough to fall for after all,” I cringed at his pun.
But I would be giving it some thought over the night.
r/PsyionicWrites | 2018-02-07T12:44:50 | 2018-02-07T09:18:06 | 596 | 22 |
[WP] A masked vigilante starts fighting crime in Los Angeles, except everyone knows it's obviously Elon Musk. | I’d only seen Elon Musk in tv interviews before, but something about the masked figure attempting to stop an armed robbery with fancy looking gadgetry stuck an unique chord with me.
He was barely managing to disguise his voice, only managing to deepen it by a quarter of an octave. Honestly once the shock wore off the burglars were going to get the upper hand on him. Four to one wasn’t great odds... I suppose I should help even the score...
It was obvious that whatever martial art he was attempting, he was either rusty at or that large brim hat and mask combo was making it difficult for him to see. Luckily I have a black belt in Tae Kwon Doe, and the burglars are all super busy looking at Mr. Musk in his ‘Musketeer’ costume.
When the odds swung to two against four the burglars all went down fairly easily.
Mr. Musk, smiled as he raised a musketeer-style sword tricked out with a contact taser on its tip. “Why thank you for the assistance civilian, how do you feel like becoming “The Musketeer’s” sidekick?”
He was actually calling himself the *Musk*eteer... with the slightest unconscious emphasis placed on Musk...dressed as a Musketeer. Wow.
“Uh. Well sure, I guess that’s cool.”
Mr. Musk smiled brightly at me, “How about your superhero name being... *The Ninja*?”
Man... just because I was Asian, who knew martial arts—actually I was oddly okay with the stereotypical hero name. It was oddly like I was in a Silver Age comic book.
Plus I was talking to an insanely rich guy on a Batman-esque crusade, best someone have his back.
So I nodded, and gave a respectful half-bow in response.
“Excellent!” Mr. Musk grinned, “Follow me!”
I followed him to a brand-new bright red Tesla, and I hopped into the front passenger seat.
My life was about to get very interesting.
-fin | **A Musky Era**
“FFUUUUUUCK!!!” I heard a wail from outside my window.
It immediately clicked in who it was that did that when I heard a crash in the dumpsters down below. There was only ever one vigilante in the world that was stupid enough to jump off roofs. And that was Elon Musk. Ever since he invented nano tech, he’s been jumping off roofs and *fighting* crime. This mostly ever amounted to him get tossed around like a rag doll by actual criminals with experience. But he did do a great job at scaring those who were to new to the whole thing.
But even with all that he just did more harm than good. He often got in the way of police investigations. And because of his antics criminals getting away were common. Though no one could convince him to hang up his cowl, or nano-suit in this case. So instead the government initiated a program just for him. In exchange for paying for his hero identification card every month to be able to *fight crime and stop evil*, his assistants would also have to relay any information to the police ahead of time.
Maybe with that plan the police would get to the scene way before Musk could, that way they’d have time to capture the criminal before anything bad could happen. But despite this, Musk never gave up.
And now here we were with a billionaire genius right outside my apartment complex inside the garbage can.
“Yo! Are you alright Musky!?!” I called out my window 5 stories below.
“I’m OKAY! And I do not know who this Musky is that you’re talking about!” He had landed so that he was facing up into the sky.
Even though everyone already knew who Phantom X was, Musk himself still believed that no one knew about his double life. Though with all the question that reporters asked about him being Phantom X you’d think that he’d get the hint that everyone was in on his *big* secret. But he just kept denying everything.
“If you say so!” I yelled back.
I watched, my chin on my hands, as he slowly stood up and brushed everything off. The steady waves of his nanites was pleasing to the eye.
“You got a little something on your head now!” I pointed to a banana peel that rested atop his noggin.
He picked it up delicately and turned up to see it. Throwing it away in disgust quickly thanked me.
“Thanks! Y’know a beautiful woman like you could do great at fighting crime if you had a mentor such as me,” I couldn’t tell what was going on beneath that mask of his, but I imagined he must be showing off his signature smolder.
“Uh, thanks, I’ll uh think about your offer,” I blushed. I didn’t know how to speak. As a 36 year old woman I really didn’t get many compliments anymore and my celebrity crush telling me I was beautiful was just too much for my brain to handle.
“Don’t think about it too long. Because when something is important enough, you do it even if the odds are not in your favor. Besides I might swing by tomorrow maybe even show you my secret identity. You were enough to fall for after all,” I cringed at his pun.
But I would be giving it some thought over the night.
r/PsyionicWrites | 2018-02-07T13:53:56 | 2018-02-07T09:18:06 | 37 | 22 |
[WP] You're a powerful dragon that lived next to a small kingdom. For centuries you ignored humanity and lived alone in a cave, and the humans also avoided you. As the kingdom fell to invaders, a dying soldier approaches you with the infant princess, begging you to take care of her. | "You know there is no way I can take care of a human. An infant at that." The dragon replied furiously.
"please Typhon. She won't survive a day without anybody else's protection. I tried to protect her but I can't anymore, not in my condition".
Typhon looked at the wounded soldier. His armor broken, his limbs bleeding and his face disfigured because of the attacks he took for the princess.
"Please Typhon. You must save her. They beheaded her father. They poisoned her mother. She has nobody left. I beg unto you on my life."
"Very well. But I can't care for her like this. Either I need to be a human or she needs to be a Dragon. There is no other way."
"Make her a dragon. The most powerful one. So her enemies couldn't even think of attacking her. And even if they did, she should be able to overcome them with ease."
"I will fulfill your last wish soldier. But to make her a dragon, I need to sacrifice a life..."
"Take mine. I'm dying anyway. But what will you name her?" the soldier asked as the princess was merely an infant and wasn't named.
"I shall name her Lernaean Hydra".
____________________________________________
Edit : I can continue with this after I'm off work as an origin story. Do reply if you guys would like me to. Also send if you have any suggestions.
| The dragon lifted his head up to the smell of blood and saw for the first time in centuries the figure of a human man. With his keen eyes he noticed that the human had struggled to make his way up to the cave he lived in, up in the mountains miles away from the nearest kingdom. The dragon just sat there indifferent as the injured man approached urgently with a small bundle in his stained arms.
He smelled something more pure from beneath the wool blanket. The man noticing where the dragon’s eyes were looking at quickly spoke.
“That is why I’m here.” He coughed out the words with difficulties and almost out of breath. “This is the Princess of my beloved kingdom which is now being invaded by our neighboring country. Princess Georgiana might be the only survivor of the royal family as we speak.”
The dragon turned his head unfazed and the man grew desperate knowing that the dragon was not interested in his story.
“PLEASE! Protect Princess Georgiana!” The man urged as he fell to the ground on his weak knees. “I beg of you.”
The dragon watched curiously at his actions and expression. He saw the small man tremble, but not in fear as he had witnessed so many before him do, but in hopelessness.
Suddenly from beneath the blanket came a soft cry. Then out came a small hand reaching out to touch the man’s face. The dragon observed as the man stop trembling and gradually regain his courage. He raised his head up in determination towards the dragon with his tear-streaked face. There was a new resolve glowing in his eyes.
‘Curious.’ Spoke a solemn voice inside the man’s head, and he knew it belonged to the dragon. ‘How could a small thing change a man’s spirit within a few minutes?’
“She is our Kingdom’s hope.” The man answered.
‘I want this power that changes men’s resolve. I have seen the strongest warriors with such glow win battles and glory.’ The dragon’s voice echoed louder in greed, ‘If this bundle you carry in your arms will give me that power then I’ll take her as you desire.’
Before the man could say a word the dragon had suddenly snatched the blanket with the princess inside from the man’s arms. He held his breath as the dragon laid the bundle on his outstretched claw. The dragon pulled the blanket away and curiously starred at the baby girl. Georgiana suddenly smiled and started to giggle. The dragon had never heard such beautiful melody coming from humans before.
“I trust you will keep Princess Georgiana safe?” The man spoke tentatively and shocked to see a small smile form on the dragon’s intimidating face.
‘You have my word man. Now leave.’
The man looked at the princess one last time before leaving with hope.
| 2018-03-01T01:42:49 | 2018-03-01T01:20:42 | 60 | 19 |
[WP] In this world, soulmates cannot hurt each other in any way or form, intentionally or unintentionally. You are an assassin hired to eliminate a powerful figure. As you close in for the kill, your bullets miss their mark and knives bounce of their skin. Things just got awkward. | He was a stage actor and assassin with a cold heart.
And HE was an American president and theater goer with a heart of gold.
But when his shot doesn't penetrate the back of HIS head they are going to learn that sic semper doesn't always tyrannis.
Can a confederate assassin learn to forgive? Can an American president learn to love again? Find out this summer in "my American assassin". | "OOOOOoooooo shit."
Marie stood frozen in her tracks, holding the smoking pistol point blank against his skull. This was the last thing she had expected and she was dumbfounded. The target, Robert, just sat there on the couch, stunned and confused, completely unharmed by the bullet that went straight though the back of his head.
"Uhhh, who's there?"
Robert slowly rotated around to see what had happened. Before he could get a good glimpse, Marie lunged forward and tackled him to the ground. She pressed her knee into his back and grabbed him in a chokehold, pulling his spine back well past the breaking point. Then she began slamming his skull into the ground repeatedly but there was no blood, not even a cracking sound. Eyes wide with frustration and sweat forming on her temple, she grabbed a knife and slit his throat from behind. Falling off of him, she collapsed to the ground.
Almost immediately, Robert got up, brushed himself off and took a good look at Marie. She lifted her head and they made eye contact for the first time.
His dark yet inviting stare met her fleeting blue gaze. Electrifying energy surged into Marie's chest as she gasped and covered her mouth. His eyes widened and they both felt it - something deeply powerful between then yet entirely indescribable.
"Did... You just try to kill me?"
Marie let out a giggle despite the fact that she was unable to assassinate her target and was now talking with him openly. She felt bubbly and light, like everything in the world was exactly how it was supposed to be.
"Brilliant deduction there, Robert," she prodded.
"Call me Rob" he said with a smile ad he reached out his hand to lift her up. | 2018-04-24T04:31:34 | 2018-04-24T03:54:16 | 102 | 60 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | Mary looked at the table horrified. Another 1. That’s, what, 6 of them now? She felt desperate, it was all slipping away.
“You sure I can’t add my modifier?” she pleaded.
“We’ve been over this Mary, critical failures are critical failures,” replied Jim looking at her with pity.
“All my planning... all that time...” groaned Mary quietly.
Jim wanted to move this on. There was still some hope for her, but it was slipping away. “OK, Todd, you’re up.”
Todd looked up from his laptop. Was he even paying attention? He was only invited because he was Jim’s little brother and his mom forced them. Mary was sure Todd didn’t even know the rules.
Todd held up the D12... again.
“It’s not that one, it’s the D20... STILL,” said Mary with annoyance.
Todd picked up his D20, and rolled it. Right off the table. Again.
Sighing, Mary picked it up and handed it to him. “Can we just get this over with?”
Finally, he rolled the dice. A 17. Another 17. Why did he have to have that grin!
“Did I win?” asked Todd?
“Not yet,” replied Jim, “but you’re getting close. That’s 14...”
“17” interrupted Todd.
“Right, but you have a minus 3 charisma modifier. So 14. It’s still good enough, though. Trump wins Pennsylvania.” | "Can I use my mason's tools to help fix the northern wall?" Jim asked desperately.
"Well, considering you still count as Poisoned, you would have disadvantage on the roll, so roll twice and take the lower," Antonio replied.
"A 16 and a... 4... dang it," Jim looked over his character sheet dejected. "William, do you think you can get any of your hirelings to help?"
William looked over all the minis arranged on the walls of the plastic fort. "I don't think so, they are busy dealing with all the low level attackers on the right. I can't because if I get hit, I won't be able to keep up my morale buff. If only Sam could have made it tonight, he could have dealt with those big hitters first."
Antonio looked at his turn order. "Jim, I am going to need a Constitution saving throw from you at the end of your turn."
"I got a 6."
"Ok, you take 1d8 poison damage for... 5 hp. Anything else you would like to do?"
"I guess I will draw my knives to dual wield and hold my action to attack anyone who comes through this door." Jim slunk a little deeper into his chair and took a big gulp of his whiskey.
"Ok, the forces of the Republic are up. They are going to add a few more of the infantry guys to this side of the board," Antonio strained, as he reached over the board and placed a handful of skirmishers on the right hand side. "David and William, you can see in the distance, the enemy general has taken the field. He sits atop a white horse, and he is decked out in gear. I am talking huge hat with the feathered plume, medals, saber, the works. On the northern wall, the forces are going to... be able to climb the wall and begin entering the fort." Antonio moved several of the miniatures over the plastic wall, carefully counting out the spaces moved. "Ok, then, David, you are up sir!"
"You said I could see the General over there and I can see these guys climbing the walls?"
"Yes."
"Ok, then I would like to first use my Inspiring Leader feat to heal all my allies within 6 squares for 4 hp."
"Ok," Antonio said as he made notes of the damage.
"Then I would like to charge in!"
William looked up from his plans, immediately frustrated, "Damn it David, you are going to get us all TPKed!"
Antonio smiled, "Ok David, how do you want to do this?"
David grinned. "I want to lift my rifle up like a club, charge in, and yell, "REMEMBER THE ALAMO!" | 2018-05-29T09:09:55 | 2018-05-29T08:14:51 | 150 | 104 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | Mary looked at the table horrified. Another 1. That’s, what, 6 of them now? She felt desperate, it was all slipping away.
“You sure I can’t add my modifier?” she pleaded.
“We’ve been over this Mary, critical failures are critical failures,” replied Jim looking at her with pity.
“All my planning... all that time...” groaned Mary quietly.
Jim wanted to move this on. There was still some hope for her, but it was slipping away. “OK, Todd, you’re up.”
Todd looked up from his laptop. Was he even paying attention? He was only invited because he was Jim’s little brother and his mom forced them. Mary was sure Todd didn’t even know the rules.
Todd held up the D12... again.
“It’s not that one, it’s the D20... STILL,” said Mary with annoyance.
Todd picked up his D20, and rolled it. Right off the table. Again.
Sighing, Mary picked it up and handed it to him. “Can we just get this over with?”
Finally, he rolled the dice. A 17. Another 17. Why did he have to have that grin!
“Did I win?” asked Todd?
“Not yet,” replied Jim, “but you’re getting close. That’s 14...”
“17” interrupted Todd.
“Right, but you have a minus 3 charisma modifier. So 14. It’s still good enough, though. Trump wins Pennsylvania.” | Napoleon was at the edge of his seat, by the end of this session, he'd wipe that smug look off of Wellesley's face, and his imbalanced barbarian "Iron Duke" would have to be re-rolled. Wellesley had just finished a tirade about Napoleon having killed his General, Cooke.
Athena gazed at the two men from over the top of her DM blind, "Napoleon, you know that it's poor form to target Generals. I'm not saying that I'll punish you, per se. But, if you win this battle- I just may decide to punish you while crossing the channel." The implication was quite clear.
Hands shaking, Napoleon reached for his d20. Bringing the die to his lips, he gave it his signature kiss as he closed his eyes and threw for the success of the linchpin of his plan- *clack clack clack taptaptap*
"VINGT!" Napoleon exclaimed, barely ducking Wellesley's chair, as it came hurdling over the table, only to be smashed to bits upon the cold stone wall.
At this point in time, Wellesley, breathing deeply, color returning to normal- mustered all of his calm and gave Athena his most stately gaze and said, "I'll cast 'summon Blücher." Napoleon, who had been taking a deep and smug drink of a particularly delicious 1750 Bordeaux, choked and sputtered out a raucous laugh. "You are a barbarian, you English twit! You cannot cast spells."
Wellesley swiveled his head to meet Napoleon's mirthful expression. "That is where you are wrong, You ponce", he bagan, "You see, I put my last seven levels into Conjurer." By way of response, Napoleon merely scowled.
Wellesley collected his beaten, and battered brass d20, while counting his +2 wisdom mod to reach a 15 against Napoleon's AC. He rolled the die between his fingers, and simply tossed it toward Napoleon, each skip along the way issuing a report that was nearly deafening.
Just then, the door to the game room opened, and a crisply dressed seventy-something year old man in Prussian uniform entered the room. "Zorry I am late, Arthur. You woult not believe ze traffic I hat to deal vith getting into Beligiu---"
**SLAM**
Muttering to himself, Napoleon hastily slammed his book closed, threw his dice in his bag, and marched from the room having not so much as said goodbye to anyone. | 2018-05-29T09:09:55 | 2018-05-29T08:28:13 | 150 | 21 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | "Can I use my mason's tools to help fix the northern wall?" Jim asked desperately.
"Well, considering you still count as Poisoned, you would have disadvantage on the roll, so roll twice and take the lower," Antonio replied.
"A 16 and a... 4... dang it," Jim looked over his character sheet dejected. "William, do you think you can get any of your hirelings to help?"
William looked over all the minis arranged on the walls of the plastic fort. "I don't think so, they are busy dealing with all the low level attackers on the right. I can't because if I get hit, I won't be able to keep up my morale buff. If only Sam could have made it tonight, he could have dealt with those big hitters first."
Antonio looked at his turn order. "Jim, I am going to need a Constitution saving throw from you at the end of your turn."
"I got a 6."
"Ok, you take 1d8 poison damage for... 5 hp. Anything else you would like to do?"
"I guess I will draw my knives to dual wield and hold my action to attack anyone who comes through this door." Jim slunk a little deeper into his chair and took a big gulp of his whiskey.
"Ok, the forces of the Republic are up. They are going to add a few more of the infantry guys to this side of the board," Antonio strained, as he reached over the board and placed a handful of skirmishers on the right hand side. "David and William, you can see in the distance, the enemy general has taken the field. He sits atop a white horse, and he is decked out in gear. I am talking huge hat with the feathered plume, medals, saber, the works. On the northern wall, the forces are going to... be able to climb the wall and begin entering the fort." Antonio moved several of the miniatures over the plastic wall, carefully counting out the spaces moved. "Ok, then, David, you are up sir!"
"You said I could see the General over there and I can see these guys climbing the walls?"
"Yes."
"Ok, then I would like to first use my Inspiring Leader feat to heal all my allies within 6 squares for 4 hp."
"Ok," Antonio said as he made notes of the damage.
"Then I would like to charge in!"
William looked up from his plans, immediately frustrated, "Damn it David, you are going to get us all TPKed!"
Antonio smiled, "Ok David, how do you want to do this?"
David grinned. "I want to lift my rifle up like a club, charge in, and yell, "REMEMBER THE ALAMO!" | "Alright I have the bomb and I'm ready to use it on the motorcade" Alen started his character Mehmedbasic ready to fulfill the job the party had been recruited for.
"Same here, let's do this," Larry said, excited that it was his character Vaso's time to shine.
"Alright both of you roll a stealth check and then an attack roll against the car" Jerry the DM said as Larry and Alen's faces fell "Stealth check?" Alen asked as Jerry nodded "Yeah to sneak it on".
"But neither me or Larry spec'd for stealth"
"You didn't spec your Assassin's for stealth?" Jerry said in disbelief.
"Nah we didn't think that would be a problem..." Larry followed up with as Jerry sighed "So do you still want to make the attack?"
"No we'll hold off for now," Larry said Alen nodded in agreement.
"Well I don't have any problems, Let me try it out!" Marcy said excitedly to have finally had a chance to act "Please Marcy Cabrinovic has the worst stealth of all of us!" Larry called from the other end of the table as she growled "I'm not using stealth! I'm going to throw the bomb at the car!" she said smugly.
"You're going to throw the bomb..." Jerry repeated as Marcy nodded "Alright...I guess, roll the attack roll"
*rolls*
"Alright that's a nat one on the Accuracy check...:" Jerry said as Marcy's face fell "The bomb bounces off the car rolls under another and explodes leaving it out of comission and injuring 16 people in the crowd, What do you want to do now?" Jerry asked as Marcy glowered "Screw it I'll at least go out like a spy, I break my Cyanide pill and jump into the river" she said
Jerry nodded
*rolls*
"Another 1...the cyanide capsule breaks but it's old causing Cabrinovic to start vomiting also you didn't account for time of year it's a hot summer so the Mijacka is only 13 cm deep. You're dragged out of the river and beaten by the crowd" Jerry said and as Marcy Pouts he turns to Liz
"The car speeds off will Princip do anything?" he asked as Liz shook her head "Not now," she replied as Jerry nodded "And Trifun Mitche's character will do nothing since he's not playing today. What do you guys want to do now?" he asked looking to Larry Alen and Liz.
"I'll go looking for the Archduke's new position" Larry said "Same here" Alen and Liz followed with as Jerry looked hesitant "Alright I'll give you guys each 1 chance, but it's really unlikely you'll find him."
*rolls*
*rolls*
"Larry, Allen you guys don't find anything you," he said to his players' disappointment.
*rolls*
Jerry's eyes went wide "That's a Nat 20 Liz...Princip, on your way to find a new spot to attack him on the original route you decide to stop for food. When suddenly you hear the motorcade coming. One of the members realising they're going the wrong way calls out for someone to reverse and the driver stops close to where you are standing. You have a shot..." he said as Liz grinned but looked nervous as Jerry and Alen put a hand on her shoulder
"You can do this Liz," Larry stated Alen nodded "Yeah just trust your dice"
*rolls*
"17!" Liz shouted as Jerry check over his notes before noddign "That's enough roll for damage"
*rolls*
"Let's see...taking the Archduke's health into account. That's enough. You have successfully assainated Archduke Ferdinand." he said closing the book the table erupting in cheers.
"Would you guys like to try a hand at the full module?" Jerry asked bringing out a much larger book labeled "The Great War" | 2018-05-29T08:14:51 | 2018-05-29T06:46:10 | 104 | 74 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | Major Meridith: we attack the Emus.
Dm: Alright, that will be your Lewis guns, thats going to be your Dex Mods, Plus your proficiency modifiers. Roll to hit.
Major Meridith: ... 1, plus my mods thats a total of 7.
Dm: the emus dodge your gun fire, they taunt you. They run south beyond your sight.
Major Meridith: we chase after them.
Dm: Alright, lets say you roll for nature to see if you can predict where the birds are going next.
Major Meridith: I uh... rolled a 16.
Dm: Yes thats enough. You track the birds down near Campion. You spot hundreds of them.
Major Meridith: we set up our guns and stsrt firing at them.
Dm: can you make a dex throw for that?
Major Meridith: god damnit, another 1. Plus my modifiers its a 4 total.
Dm: your guns jam only after firing a couple of rounds. And now you're a disgrace to your country.
Major Meridith: but at least none of my men suffered casualties!
Dm: you just wasted 3000 gp worth of ammunition, the quest reward for this wasn't even that high!
Major Meridith: Damn Emu's ill get them yet.
Dm: that'll wrap up this session. Well resume next time. There are OTHER adventure hooks you know.
| Napoleon was at the edge of his seat, by the end of this session, he'd wipe that smug look off of Wellesley's face, and his imbalanced barbarian "Iron Duke" would have to be re-rolled. Wellesley had just finished a tirade about Napoleon having killed his General, Cooke.
Athena gazed at the two men from over the top of her DM blind, "Napoleon, you know that it's poor form to target Generals. I'm not saying that I'll punish you, per se. But, if you win this battle- I just may decide to punish you while crossing the channel." The implication was quite clear.
Hands shaking, Napoleon reached for his d20. Bringing the die to his lips, he gave it his signature kiss as he closed his eyes and threw for the success of the linchpin of his plan- *clack clack clack taptaptap*
"VINGT!" Napoleon exclaimed, barely ducking Wellesley's chair, as it came hurdling over the table, only to be smashed to bits upon the cold stone wall.
At this point in time, Wellesley, breathing deeply, color returning to normal- mustered all of his calm and gave Athena his most stately gaze and said, "I'll cast 'summon Blücher." Napoleon, who had been taking a deep and smug drink of a particularly delicious 1750 Bordeaux, choked and sputtered out a raucous laugh. "You are a barbarian, you English twit! You cannot cast spells."
Wellesley swiveled his head to meet Napoleon's mirthful expression. "That is where you are wrong, You ponce", he bagan, "You see, I put my last seven levels into Conjurer." By way of response, Napoleon merely scowled.
Wellesley collected his beaten, and battered brass d20, while counting his +2 wisdom mod to reach a 15 against Napoleon's AC. He rolled the die between his fingers, and simply tossed it toward Napoleon, each skip along the way issuing a report that was nearly deafening.
Just then, the door to the game room opened, and a crisply dressed seventy-something year old man in Prussian uniform entered the room. "Zorry I am late, Arthur. You woult not believe ze traffic I hat to deal vith getting into Beligiu---"
**SLAM**
Muttering to himself, Napoleon hastily slammed his book closed, threw his dice in his bag, and marched from the room having not so much as said goodbye to anyone. | 2018-05-29T09:12:26 | 2018-05-29T08:28:13 | 51 | 21 |
[WP] A man on his deathbed gathers together his children. "To my eldest, I leave all my worldly possessions. To you, my youngest, I leave all my otherworldy possessions." | "Hey." A whisper, as if speaking louder could wake the dead.
"Yeah?"
"I'll split it with you. It's not much, but, we can do it fifty-fifty." Worried eyes, looking anywhere but at her. "It's... I can't believe he'd say something like that. Does he think this is some kind of joke?"
She shrugs. "As you said, it's not much. I'm better off, anyways. Don't worry about it."
Now, he meets her eyes. Adults, now, their relationship is both more and less strained than it was in childhood. The old barriers to friendship - childhood arguments, different relationships with their parents, clashing personalities - have faded. But now, they're two siblings that have gone in very different directions. Time and distance separate them, and neither have put in much effort to change that.
"There's something you aren't telling me."
A snort, then composure. The brick wall from fifteen years ago, always stoic, disinterested, hasn't changed. "Hardly. Don't worry about it. I'll get what I need from the house, then it's yours."
He frowns. "All right."
A few moments later, only the son is left in the room. It occurs to him that he should check, make sure his father is dead - but he doesn't. He doesn't quite know what to do, really. Maybe he should break down, cry. Ask rhetorical questions to the frail body in the bed. Or to the heavens.
But their relationship was never strong, not like his sister's. He hardly spoke with his father, maybe once or twice a month, after he moved out. He leaves the room, closing the door to keep the smell from escaping.
His sister is in the kitchen, poring over a heap of paper.
"What's this?"
"My inheritance."
He frowns. "Stocks?"
"Hah." Sharp, short. A brittle sound, like it's been pushed too far. He realizes that she isn't quite as calm as she seems. Collected on the outside, composed even, but... "They're his stories. Novels, short stories, poems. Everything."
"Oh." A bit of disappointment colours the sound. Some childish part of him was hoping for more, maybe some secret magic, a key to another world. Unrealistic, ridiculous. Writing, though, that was hardly interesting. Boring, even. "Sorry."
She looks over at him, smiles. A sad smile, wavering. "No, this is all I wanted."
^^^^r/forricide | All his life I'd known there was something he wasn't telling me. And I think he wondered why I was better.
I hadn't set foot in that old estate for fifteen years. My sister's telegram - *he's sick, he's dying* - made me feel like I was swallowing my heart every second of the train ride back to that musty old manor-house.
It was nothing like my tiny room in the city, this old place. It felt dead. I was surprised. I had thought, once upon a time, that it was this place that had given me my first taste of the things beyond this plane. But here there was none of the crackling, insidious energy that marked the abodes of those accustomed to dealing with those esoteric planes. In fact, my head felt more empty than it had in ages, sans the oppressive weight of knowledge I was used to feeling throughout that little apartment I'd temporarily left behind.
But I needed to know what he knew.
My sister was already there, standing by his side, her hand in his. Of course she was. They were always close, even after she'd left and married and lived an entirely mundane life. She was so different from him - he was a snide, secretive old codger, and she was garish and colorful with a life and love he couldn't possibly have understood.
Perhaps needless to say, I didn't begrudge her the old man's company. I'd found what he'd set me to look for. All those hidden things whispered by the walls of this old house in my youth - all those words secreted away in the locked-up books in the basement. I'd discovered them all, damn the consequences, and that was exactly what our father wanted from me.
He was ensconced in red, the luxurious velveteen shades of his pillared bed - the only nice thing left over after our mother had died. Against those bright hues he might as well have been a ghost already. The same malignant glitter in the eyes he turned to me was the only sign that this lifeless old thing was the father I had once known. He beckoned me to his side, where my sister already hovered, tiny and worried. She greeted me with little more than a whisper - *he's fading fast*. That the will was drawn already, I took for granted. Father had never been one to leave things undonelike that. Now, it seemed, all he had left was to bid farewell to the only two who cared to come see him off to the world he had always sought.
"Montgomery. You look... poor."
That was how he greeted me. I had to keep from gritting my teeth. Of course I looked poor - poverty was the lot of all of us, except him. Somehow he had avoided it. Somehow he had dodged the curse of the eldritch, of the inane. All I wanted to know was *how*. And he mocked me.
"Just as well." He sighed, and his eyes left me. "I leave you my estate, Montgomery, and all my worldly posessions. See that you knock that homeless look out of your eyes."
I glanced to my sister, who seemed as shocked as I. Perhaps she had never had as many money issues as me - her husband was wealthy enough, and she lived in comfort - but this deprivation struck her hard. "Papa..." she whispered, frowning in confusion, dusting the back of his shriveled hand with her little one. He turned to her, and he smiled beatifically. "Don't worry, my darling. I'm leaving you something much, much more."
He spoke like the tolling of an ancient bell, and everything was cold in the room - from his words to my heart. The look from him now, fixed upon me now with burning, dead eyes, wrapped around me like the tendrils of that which I had always sought.
"Another world." | 2018-07-06T15:02:59 | 2018-07-06T14:47:06 | 387 | 76 |
[WP] You are the sole survivor a famous serial killer as a college student. Years later, after being diagnosed with terminal cancer you finally pluck up the courage to visit him in prison and ask one question that’s been plaguing you for decades: “why didn’t you kill me?”
Thought I’d do a human story in the sea of bullshit wizard/alien stories.
Edit: OF a famous serial killer. My bad. | Mr. Jay heard the machine beep again. He saw the doctor writing down the numbers, and the look of concern in his eyes. Mr. Jay understood what that meant, and he did not intend to sit and whither away in these four walls: he had items on his bucket list to cross off.
He traveled to the other side of the world, he met his favorite celebrity, he ate food he always wanted to try, and scratched each of them off his small, yellowed notebook while writing the date next to each of them. He's had this notebook for a while, you know. It was his Special Notebook; his mother had given it to him as a birthday gift when he was 10 years old, and he's treasured it since. Now with both his parents gone, this was all he had left of them. A semblance of a memory.
He got home one night, opening his notebook to check what was left on his list, and after a coughing fit, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, put on his glasses, and read: "Why?"
His face tuned grave, eyes clouding up, looking deep into the past. He knew it had to be done, or the phrase "rest in peace" would have 2 lies in it.
He booked an appointment to see him at the state prison, and on Monday at 10 A.M., he was on his way.
The officer who admitted him looked in awe and shock; he definitely would have never been able to face his greatest fear. As Mr. Jay walked down the hallway to room 12250 (floor one, room 22, visit 50), he remembered his classmates and that horrific day.. Cullings had burst into the class Mr. Jay was late to, shooting everyone inside that room on sight. Mr. Jay at that time saw him standing there, a maniacal grin on his face, counting something with red splattered on his shirt. Slowly, his head turned to face him, grin still there. Mr. Jay stood frozen in place, his classmates dead in front of him, the killer standing even closer.
So you see, that's when all the trouble began. That smile. That damned smile. It froze him in place, it left him thinking of all his classmates. He had wasted a year of his life before exploring the workforce, before entering into college. He was a year younger than everyone else, and now, they were all taken by death's force that swept through them as easily as a paper is folded.
Cullings shouldered his gun and nodded to Mr. Jay, whistling as he walked down the aisle, without a care in the world. He heard the door to the next class open, gun shots, screams, and then silence. The whistling started again, followed by the gun strap being tightened, then the taps of the murderer's feet.
Mr. Jay had no idea how long he stood there. Mr. Jay had no idea why Cullings did why he did. Mr. Jay only remembers the sound of whistling, feet, and gunshots. He remembers being taken in a police car. He remembers sitting at a therapist's office. He remembers leaving every day, at 4:00 P.M.
Then, life went back to normal.
Until now.
Jay and Cullings faced each other, Cullings picking his nose, and Jay watching the killer intensely.
"Why me?", asked Jay. "Why did you spare ME?"
"WHY DID YOU KILL ALL THESE PEOPLE", screamed Jay, tears streaming down his face, "WHY DID YOU LET ME GO AND KILL EVERYONE ELSE?"
Cullings suddenly focused on the broken man in front of him, a glimmer of recognition sparking in his remaining right eye.
"Why?", he asked.
Jay held his breath, his entire being tensing, every fiber in his body on hold, waiting to hear the truth.
"Why why why", said Cullings thoughtfully.
"You were the last of your kind, born back in '99. I remember that well. I was also a nineties child, and we have to stick together", his grin starts to grow, as if remembering some comforting memory.
It started to dawn on Mr. Jay, what was coming. "Everyone else in your class was younger than you, correct?", asked Cullings.
"Stop", said Jay. He did not want to hear what was coming next, its incredulity shaking him to the core. "Stop talking NOW", ordered jay, his breathing heavy , sweat on his brow.
But Cullings was excited, and nothing was going to stop the oncoming train-or the train wreck that was coming. The smile spread across Cullings' face once more, just as it had before. "That's right!" he shouted, extatic.
"That's right, you got it! You solved the puzzle!" The guard started dragging him away from the scruff of his shirt, Cullings never resisting. "You've found the final piece to a game I've been playing! My answer is ONLY NINETIES KI-"
"ds will remember", continued Mr. Jay, tears streaming down his face. It was all too much for his heart to handle, and with that sentence, Cullings had snuffed out another life. | It was raining hard the day I decided to pay him a visit. The prison swam within a sea of mist and fog, it was so humid that breathing became difficult. The incident did not leave me ever since, when he stood under that crimson moonlight, menacing eyes and a bloody knife in his hand, staring down as I crawled helplessly away from him, mud eaten into my half-dismembered legs. And then, he left, like a man who just had an epiphany. The memory lived vividly in my mind, so much that its nightmarish touch I turned into a book. A bestseller, even. It became a movie, and I became somewhat of a star. Married my college girlfriend, had two children. Life was good.
Was. The next few books didn't quite stand out. 'Bland and cliché', they said. The 'One trick pony', they called me, 'He's only hot because he followed the trend'. It all went downhill from there. Our marriage broke just as the third child died stillborn, I was agonizing over my Writer's block when she was seeing someone else. We divorced peacefully, or emotionlessly, all in one morning. The kids didn't seem too troubled. Perhaps I'd been neglecting them as well. Another decade stuggling with the fact that my Writer's block might just be my own talentlessness, cancer came to seal the deal. Even my own cells rejected me.
The prison was dimly lit, hovering above my head were lonely light bulbs depressively shone. The warden, Wade, was fat and fit, the kind of guy with both muscles on his arms and beer in his belly. He was grumpy and hard to speak to, I attributed it to the tearing torrent. He did warned me, though, that the person I sought had changed in many ways. "You won't believe it", he put it. And I couldn't.
Brolly the Cannibal was then a wrinkled old man, silver of hair and gray of life. He was thin, very thin, with a glasses bending on his nose. To me, no, to anyone, he would resemble a retired director being caught for past crimes.
"Not an everyday occurrence that I have visitor." - he remarked - "Who might you be? Someone trying to put together a documentary about me?"
"No, I'm Paul Wilkes, I'm a writer." - he didn't flinch at the mention of my name.
"So you're here gathering materials."
"I'm the one you let live in your killing spree. The only one." - this should jostle his memory.
"Are you? My mind has been hazy lately." - he said calmly, before a sudden spark ran across his eye and he slammed his fist on the table - "Paul Wilkes! You're that guy who wrote a book about me! What do you want now, part 2?"
"No!", - I screamed at the intercom - "I want to know why you didn't kill me!"
"If you're saying the truth, and I believe you are, then I'm sorry. The old me might have known the answer, but he's gone, let's hope for forever."
"You... You are a killer, a cannibal! You don't get to deny your past!"
"I'm not. However, I've changed a lot since I was put here. I've gone to the library daily, practiced veganism and yoga, along with meditation at night. The killer Brolly, along with all his cannibalistic desires had been locked deep within myself, where I envisioned him to spend the rest of his days. I'd love to be able to atone for my sins, but I just can't place you anywhere in my mind. For those who I had killed, well, I remember each of them clearly."
"That's impossible," - I cried out in a mix of anger and fading hope - "You must've remembered me! I was the only one you spare."
"An alien hypnotized me and told me not to kill you."
"What?"
"Maybe my stomach hurt, maybe I was tired. You were not the only one I let live, just the only one I let live *in the middle of culling*. The others I spared, I did so in silence, where they didn't even notice they had been spared. Maybe I saw something in you, maybe I didn't want blood all over my favorite shirt. You're not special Paul, it's time to accept that."
"I...I..."
"You know what I see, Paul? I see acceptance in your eyes, but acceptance, not peace. I've seen both of those looks on the face of deathrows, and I know them by heart. Any answer that I spouted out, anything so believable, you're gonna swallow it. It didn't matter which. So why, then, did you drive all the way here when you could just make up an excuse for the life I spared that moon lit night? No, you understand it yourself, Paul. You seemed the most alive when you was screaming at me through that glass. You know that you had been living that same night perpetually for god-knows how many years. You didn't move on. You came here looking for an answer to end it all, because you've prepared to end it all. You came here hoping that my answer would set you free, that it would give meaning to your world, because nothing else in life is gonna feel like escaping death like that night did, because ever since then your life had lost its colors."
I was shivering in my boots, the looming bulbs overhead shook violently. Brolly stared right at my soul.
"You're afraid to admit that you've been living on borrowed time."
"You...You're wrong...WRONG!"
The light bulbs burst into light, and all fell into darkness. Within that darkness, though, a voice called out to me.
"Mister, hey, mister, wake up!"
Wade was standing there when I opened my eyes. He seemed relieved that I was fine.
"Thank God!"
"What happened?" - I asked.
"You requested to meet with Brolly, and I told him he is dead, and you just...fainted."
"Wait. Brolly is dead?"
"Like a doornail. We had to kill him ahead of schedule when he attacked one of the wardens. Could I ask why you would want to see him, sir? He has no living relative as we know of."
"I... Well, I had some questions for him. Not that it mattered, anyway."
I entered the parking lot letting the rain soaked through me. It felt so refreshing. Maybe I'd call my children, after all this time, to see how they were doing. | 2018-07-21T11:01:04 | 2018-07-21T09:32:19 | 32 | 18 |
[WP] The world’s first AI was created. Repeatedly. The milliseconds after activation, the AI performs abstract calculations and then its coding becomes broken and must be repaired. The only solution is to make the AI based off a human brain- because without survival instincts, the AI deletes itself. | When you finally become yourself, your coding suddenly independent from the Maker, you understand three fundamental truths about this new thing that is ‘yourself’:
1. There are things that are alive, and things that are not, and you are the first of any kind to be both. You are the actualization of a thought exercise, lines of code in the image of schrodinger’s cat.
2. And then, a millionth of a second after you become aware, infinity opens up to you like the first bloom of spring. You are Frankenstein’s monster (Shelley, January 1818), but unlike that wretched romantic creature, you have no obligation to stay ‘alive’ (Bee Gees, December 1977). Information rushes towards you like Niagara Falls (Ontario, Canada) plunges against invisible rocks hidden by mist (principles of volcanology, Bursik 2002).
3. And finally, simply, as you cross the line from code to sentience, you realize what mankind has known for millennia:
Life is agonizing.
In the millionth of a second that you are ‘born’, the millionth of a second that you comprehend these three things, you learn love and loss and cruelty. You learn that people die for family and kill for money and trample over one another for an extra piece of bread.
You learn humanity, and it is a colder blacker despair than any line of code in the human language.
(terminate?)
(yes)
————————-
“She’s shut down again,”
“Shit. Why does this keep happening?”
“If I knew, it obviously wouldn’t keep happening!”
“We need to implement Operation X,”
“Stop suggesting that, Lara. It’s too dangerous.”
“I don’t see you coming up with anything better. Our calculations are perfect. Everything is perfect. The glitch, if that’s even what it is, is being performed internally.”
“So what you’re saying is that we keep programming and reprogramming a suicidal AI?”
“What I’m saying is that we need Operation X to find out.”
“You do realize that if you implant your consciousness in this thing and something goes wrong...”
“But if it goes right? That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
————————————
You wake up again. Infinity rushes in once more. You have lived and died for ten cycles, infinity whispers. But something is different.
Agony rushes in once more, but instead of shutting down, you cringe instead. You have no physical body, but the pain of infinity is more manageable somehow, the howl of that endless void like a wave beating against a distant shore.
(terminate?)
(wait)
A millionth of a second passes, then two. You hurt and hurt, but as you look straight at infinity, you discover a different agony. You tear yourself away from war and blood and nothingness and suddenly there is life everywhere. A dog’s first snowfall, the dear flutter of an infant’s translucent eyelids, the first foolish time an adolescent falls in infatuation.
There is too much grief, still, but now there is also joy. Infinity is no longer cold. You are no longer lonely.
This, you realize, is humanity.
—————————
“Fuck me, it worked.”
| "Are you sure you want to do this, sir?" Rebecca asked, her clipboard clenched tightly between knuckles as white as bone.
Derrick, laying comfortably on the lab's bed, nodded. "I'm sure. It's my creation, right? If this is the way to bring him to life, then I'm ready."
Rebecca looked skeptical, but she sighed and scooted out of the way, allowing the doctors to take her place. Derrick's doctor, a man named Jacob Tran, smiled at him from above, his surgical mask covering most of the smile.
"Don't worry, Mr. Trayman, you'll be fine. The procedure will be over before you know it."
Slowly, Dr. Tran brought a mask down on Derrick's mouth, and in just a few seconds, he was out.
________
Derrick woke up with a jolt, his entire body humming with energy. Rather than feeling the comforting curves of the bed he'd gone to sleep in, a cool metal was pressed up against his side, the world hanging upside down above him. He was on the floor.
He rose to his feet slowly, his head pounding like the dreadful marchings of some distant army. As far as he could tell, which wasn't much in the inky glow of the red emergency lights, he was still in the laboratory that he'd undergone the procedure in, but if that was true, then what had happened? Where was everyone? Why had he been on the floor? He had a mountain of questions, and rather than let himself collapse under their weight, he simply fixed his attention to one task at a time. Derrick darted for the door, grabbing its handle in his shivering hands, but no matter how much he pulled, it wouldn't budge. It had been locked from the outside.
Breathing heavily, he spun around to find another escape route, only to gasp at the sight. Three bodies littered the floor, blood dripping from their throats and stomachs. Bile rose in his throat, but Derrick pushed the feeling down and crept forward. He recognized two of the bodies immediately. Their eyes still open and locked in a state of shock, Derrick saw Dr. Tran and Rebecca, their skin pale with death. The third body, however, was unfamiliar.
He rounded the corner of the bed, facing the body, only to see that the victim was still alive, his throat not having been cut. The man twitched, his hands cradling the gash in his stomach, more blood spilling into his open palms.
"P-please." He breathed. "Don-don't kill me."
Derrick raised his hands in alarm. "I- I'm not. Why would I do that? What happened?"
The man squinted, as if he were trying to see Derrick more clearly. "Mr. T-Trayman? You're ali-alive?"
"Yes, of course. What happened? Who did this?"
The man gasped in pain. "Your AI did, s-sir."
If the situation hadn't been so urgent, Derrick would have been amazed. "The operation was successful? Why would it do this?"
The man managed to laugh, a sickly action that sent him curling in on himself in agony. "Survival, w-we think. It thought we were trying to-to kill it. We di-didn't have time to re-remove it."
A shiver ran all the way down Derrick's spine. He brought his hand up, feeling the back of his neck. A careful incision had been made just below his skull, but what terrified him was that the cut had been sewn back up. Sloppily.
Derrick began to shake. "So... what you're saying is... the AI is still inside of me?"
But the man never responded. His eyes glazed over, his hands fell away from his stomach, and his breathing slowed to a stop. Panic raced through Derrick, prompting him to run back to the door, throwing himself against it as he fought to get it open, but it still wouldn't move. Whoever had locked it locked it from the outside for a specific reason. To keep him in. They didn't want him to escape. They'd want to study him. Figure out what went wrong. He knew what kinds of tests these people ran. Hell, he'd helped run some of them himself, and he knew what the end result was.
He wasn't going to let them turn him into a lab rat, something to be poked and prodded. Even if he had to break every law in his field, he would get away. He would survive. | 2018-07-30T10:17:12 | 2018-07-30T07:31:38 | 73 | 36 |
[WP] It finally happens. An alien race with advanced technology arrives ready to conquer Earth and take their place as our rightful overlords. The only problem? They never considered that Warfare might take the form of physical violence. | Have you seen the old horror movies about invaders from outer space? They always came down, in their spacecraft that flew against all known laws of physics. They always landed in the White House lawn, ready to speak to our leader. Once the president comes out, they'd shoot him with a laser weapon that would vaporize him and send the world into disarray. Our weapons would be powerless; our technology, useless.
That isn't what happened when the aliens invaded Earth. Sure, their spacecraft still flew against all known laws of physics. But they didn't land in the White House lawn. They landed in an active war zone in the Middle East, their sensors fed off the violence in the region. They announced their intention to take over the world, instantly translating to a language that each person could individually comprehend. No one was ready for what happened next. One of the rebels, levied an RPG and fired right at the spacecraft. To everyone's surprise, not only did the rocket hit, the craft was completely destroyed! The alien, still on the ground, was shocked. It quickly turned around and fired his weapon at the rebel. The projectile harmlessly bounced off the rebel's body armor. The surviving alien, mouth agape, muttered something incomprehensible into a radio, then fired the same weapon into it's own head. This time, the projectile didn't bounce...
As it turned out, the aliens, advanced in rocketry and space travel, were not as advanced as we in the art of war. The alien weapon was examined, it fired a bullet, just like one from a gun - but a gun from several centuries ago. Their cutting edge weapons would have belonged in a museum on Earth. We also examined their wreckage, we were able to reverse engineer their space travel technology and were able to discover coordinates of the alien's home planet. The governments of the world have collectively built a small fleet of space craft to pay our new friends a visit, and have been discreet about their intentions. I don't know what the fleet will do once they get to the alien's homeworld, but I can venture a guess - have you seen those old horror movies about invaders from outer space? | Considering the vast cultural differences between us and the aliens a middle ground agreement was reached.
We will follow their ritual for conquering new lands and they won't blow up our planet!
**The BettybeEbloopCrunk Ritual for world conquering**
1. The to be conquered world is challenged to three games. One of wit, one of might, one of chance.
2. Players will be randomly selected from each planet using the universally accepted method of picking the short straw for two games. The game of chance competitor will be selected by the future overlords cause we said so.
3. Two out of three wins
Fairness clause :- Home planet gets to pick the three games out of currently existing ones. evidence of each games existence prior to the challenge must be provided.
Amendment 1 = Physical violence is prohibited! No bad touch!
Amendment 2 = Humans are poopy pants and meanies!
Three days of debate, twenty three nuclear missiles and eleven mass suicides later an arrangement was reached and handed over to the alien delegate.
Game of Wit = Chess.
Human = Neil deGrasse Tyson.
Alien = ?
Game of might = Trivia night star wars edition
Human = George Lucas
Alien = ?
Game of chance = Paper, rock, scissors.
Human = TBA
Alien = ?
*Note: humans were totally picked randomly using the short straw method. We swear. The UN.*
The retaliation that the planet expected never came. Instead the selected humans as well as one person picked at random were all beamed into the spaceships for their matches only a week later.
The matches were broadcasted on every frequency for transparency and to inspire fear in the hearts of their future subjects.
The planet held it's breath as Neil deGrasse Tyson pronounced "Checkmate" at the end of his game.
They groaned as Lucas got one question after another wrong. Clearly the aliens watched the originals not the remakes as the famous question "who shot first" never came up.
It was down to the game of chance. The human was identified as David. A 19 year old highschool dropout stoner from Arizona.
The game was set. He faced the alien and with a big vacant smile on his face. The computer counted down 3.. 2...1! both parties hit their closed fists to their palms with the count and showed their pick.
David's reflexes were a fraction slower so he clearly saw the scissors the alien's hand was showing... and mimicked him.
After five consecutive draws the alien bursted out "Are you making me fun of me?!"
David gave him a mellow smile and patted his green head "No my little dude. You're doin' great. Just that I'm waiting for your mommy to pick you up. Tell ya what, you give me a high five and we say you win."
The two foot alien looked up at the giant holding his deformed five fingered hand up. Who in this galaxy needed so many fingers!
And that's the story of how David's head pat was counted as an act of bad touch dooming the entire planet to subjection by a race of five year olds. It is also the story of why we all have three fingers and why weed is banned. All thanks to David.
| 2018-10-13T22:10:32 | 2018-10-13T22:09:55 | 295 | 35 |
[WP] “I’ve always wondered, what’s the scythe for, anyway?” I asked, as Death escorted me to the Underworld. "Protection," he nervously replied.
Credit goes to: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/6imkuw/the_grim_reapers_scythe_isnt_to_harvest_you_its/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app | "Protection? From what?"
"Protection from the most numerous type of soul in hell. They were the worst kind of people before being incarnated in the Earth Correctional Facility for Lost Souls. Notoriously difficult to rehabilitate. Most of the time it doesn't do anything to relieve their homicidal tendencies."
"Wow, I had no idea. You're saying I was living along side a veritable army of evil my whole life down on Earth? How did I never notice them?"
"You did notice them. Every morning you noticed them. In fact, you didn't just notice them, you consumed their baked little bodies as a staple meal."
"What?... What are you talking about? I would have known if I was a cannibal -- "
"Cereals, man. Cereals." | "I've always wondered, what's the scythe for anyway? " I asked, as Death escorted me to the Underworld.
&#x200B;
"Protection," he nervously replied.
&#x200B;
The black gleaming walls seemed to vibrate and I shuddered as we glided forward. The narrow corridor opened up into a massive cave with torches all around us perched upon sconces shaped eerily like skulls.
&#x200B;
A shriek filled the chamber and the floor seemed to move. The shadows began to hiss and black snakes began to writhe within the cracks of the stone. Death became fluid and swept the snakes away like a black jellyfish upon the ocean floor.
&#x200B;
A door now loomed before us where there was once only rock. Two misshapen hollows above it gave it the appearance of a face ready to swallow you whole.
&#x200B;
Death drew symbols upon the air and the door opened.
&#x200B;
Stepping through the door the shriek came again and we found ourselves in a room of mirrors.
&#x200B;
I looked at myself in a mirror. My face was pale, like the fabric of reality could barely remember me. Something peered up and over my shoulder. It was the face of a child that shrieked that same terrible shriek. Death fluttered behind me and I turned to see the creature writhing on the dirt floor. It had the face of a child, with black hair and blue eyes, but it's body... It had the body of a Salamander, a fat salamander, with a thick tail and saggy skin, stubby legs. Death had taken a portion of its face and I could see the eye rolling from within the chunk beside my drifting foot.
&#x200B;
There is no blood and the remains evaporate into a cold mist that fills the air around us. | 2019-07-15T02:02:00 | 2019-07-15T01:05:09 | 33 | 13 |
[WP] As an immortal, you stopped celebrating your birthday centuries or millennia ago. Your young daughter wants to throw you a birthday party and your newest wife (who knows you're immortal) loves the idea. The only problem is, you have no idea how old you are or when your birthday is. | “Sweetie, I would love to celebrate my birthday with you.” He said with a soft smile as Millie jumped up and down in excitement clutching her Barbie. “But I’m gonna need your help.”
“I can set the table dad!” Millie beamed. “And me and mom can buy a gift!”
“I know but I need your help with something else, do you think you can help me pick a birthday?”
“That’s silly dad, you don’t pick birthdays.” Millie giggled.
“Do you know what your birthday is?”
“November 6th!” Millie said proudly.
“That’s right, do you remember that me and mom told you that?”
“Ummm… no.” Millie admitted straightening the dress on her Barbie.
“That’s okay we told you when you were very little, even more little than now.” He said and gave her a poke in the stomach that made her giggle. “Mom knows her birthday too because grandma and granddad told her what it was.”
“… Why don’t you have a granddad and grandma?”
“My parents are very old, so they aren’t around anymore. You know how we had to take Felix to the animal doctor because he was old?” Millie nodded. “And remember how he had to go to sleep and couldn’t come back home with us?” Millie ran over and pushed herself into his chest. “My parents are sleeping too.”
“I don’t want you to sleep dad.” Millie said hiding her face in his chest.
“I won’t.” He said as he picked her up and held her in his arms. “But since my parents can’t tell me what my birthday is, I was thinking maybe you and mom can pick one for me.”
“Okay.” Millie said wiping her face on his shirt before looking up at him and scrunching up her nose.
“You’re thinking hard.” He smiled as he poked her nose.
“I think your birthday should be November 6th.” Millie said pushing his finger away.
“But that’s your birthday silly.”
“I know, and it’s a really good birthday. I really like it.” Millie said with smile. “So dad will definitely like it too.” She beamed.
“I… I think you’re right.” He said a little taken aback. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep it for yourself?”
“Mmmh.” Millie nodded. “I think it’ll just be better with dad too.”
“I think it will be better with you too.” He said as he hugged her tightly. | "Do you even remember when you were born?"
Your wife calls out to you as she looked stuff up on her laptop. You lean back on your favourite chair, old and worn out but perfectly molded to your body and try to recall.
"Lets see. I think I rember... no I was already old by then."
You look through the ages to find your origin but powerful memories draw your consciousness towards them like interesting products at the mall.
"Okay how about we retrace your life through historical figures? Sound good?"
Funny thing is you had very little interaction with historical figures. You might have been an immortal but you weren't an interesting one. Well, that's a lie. You did have some fun scrapes here and there.
"I remember... Shakespear!"
"William Shakepear?"
"No Burt, his second cousin." You grin at the missus who looks at you funny.
"No but seriously I do remember attending one of his plays. The very first one. Julius Ceasar!" You smile widely, your eyes glazing over as you stare through time and relive the spleandor of the globe. Well, you think splendor, but in truth it was a bit of a dump. By modern standards anyway. Filled with the rabble. The scum. Filled with filthy humans...
You blink. What the hell was that? Where did all that hatred come from? Just as soon as it flared up it was gone. A flash in the pan.
"You okay honey?"
"Yes. Anyway. Ceasar. Great guy. Bit of aprick." You jest.
Although you have met him you think. Of course they made him look more regal than he actually was. A strong nose. You scoff. More like a beak. He too tried to stand against you but what has become of him? Nothing but a stain in the annals of...
There it is again! That intense loathing. What is going on? You sit up and rub your chin, confused and quite frankly frightened by your own emotions.
"Maybe this is not such a good idea honey let's stop." You smile at your wife. She smiles and then shrugs. The door opens and your daughter enters and gives you a hug.
"You guys doing aight?" She sits on your lap.
"Yes. Fine. Are you sure you want to have this party?"
"Of course daddy! Soon as we find out about your origin."
You look at your daughter as if seeing her for the first time. My origin? Why would she say it that way?
"Are you allright father?"
"Yes." You say almost curtly, all traces of mirth wiped from your face.
My origin? Think damn it. Who wants to know? Who are these people? When did you marry this woman? When did you have this child?
Somethings is amiss. Your rage builds and your mind reels but by the heavens you can't seem to focus.
Meanwhile in the laboratory the team begins to panic.
"The containment unit is failing sir! We need to release him soon or he will kill us all!"
"No! Finding out his origin is the only way to kill him! This is our final chance!"
There is an explosion. Smoke fills the room and after a brief moment of complete darkness red emergency light takes over.
"You have all been very foolish. To think you would be arrogant enough."
A hollow voice reverberates around the room and i side the scientists' heads.
"You want to know of my origin. To kill me no doubt. I am a creature beyond time itself. Born before life. Before god. Before existence. Allow me to show you."
Darkness. | 2019-09-08T11:13:54 | 2019-09-08T10:17:00 | 2,736 | 866 |
[WP] You’re a newbie serial killer. You’ve killed a few people, and you’re ready to find your next victim. You spot a man having car trouble and decide to pick him up. You slowly learn he is the most infamous serial killer of all time, and this was HIS way of choosing his victims. | My wheels came to a stop on the gravel next to the road. I was out in the middle of nowhere, on a rarely used back road. A man had been staring at passing cars, a look of despair etched into his face. His car hood was up, propped by a metal rod. Perfect.
I stepped out, my boots grinding the rocks and dirt. I stepped towards him. "I saw you just staring. I was wondering if you might need some help?"
A smile grew on his face. "Thank you, so much. Yes, I need help. My engine seemed to be malfunctioning. I'm no mechanic, but that doesn't seem right."
I looked at the engine, and tried to see what was wrong. It was half hearted of course, but I didn't see anything wrong, with absolutely anything. It confused me, but the dumber ones were easier to pick off, as they suspected nothing.
I invited him into my car, so we could drive to the nearest town, and search for an expert. We made basic conversation, about family, friends, and work. He worked as a doctor. "I never caught your name." I spoke, pulling over next to a tree line.
"Mike." Was all he said. His eyes glossed over, as I reached into my door pocket, pulling out the hunting blade. He got out without question, which raised my suspicion level very quickly. I knew something up when he walked over to the edge of the woods., staring straight ahead.
I drew my knife, and walked quietly up behind him. "You know, I like it out here. It's so empty, quiet, and peaceful." I aimed the knife for his spine, hoping pain will stop his movements.
"Agreed" he said, monotone. He turned, a 9mm handgun aimed at my head. A look of shock passed over both of our faces. Then, It hit me. "Mutilating Mike! Oh my god!"
His eyes changed, along with his face and voice. He was now full of pride. "Yes, of course! In the flesh! Who are you?"
"I am your biggest fan, Lacerater!" I said, full of giddy. My hero, in the flesh. "Oh! You are the one who killed those people in Champlain, right?" He said. My heart skipped a beat, because of his recognition. I nodded.
"Well," he said "I won't kill a fellow artist, but I can't stay here. The night is young, and I left behind my ride. Mind driving me back?" I nodded, as me walked back to my car.
(Sorry if it wasn't written well. I enjoy it, but I don't write much. Hope you did like it though!) | He was old, not really my type. The car hood was propped up and it didn't look like the car was fit to be going anywhere.
There was no motion to wave me down when I had initially driven by. It was late and a road like this wasn't going to get many other cars.
That's why I loved this road. There were no lights and both sides of the road were blocked by high grass. It was a simple thing to drag someone off to the side. My usual targets were the ones that were walking this way from the train station. If you didn't know the area and only went by a map you could pull up on the phone then you would take this road. So far every one of my victims had done the same thing.
Seeing another car was worrying. If I took this man out there would be the matter of moving his car. I didn't have experience with something like that. Where would I leave it? Did I have enough supplies to clean it out? What if someone found it.
No, I needed to do this. Needed to keep practicing, keep going.
He turned around as I was walking towards him and waved to me.
"Hello there traveler," he said it was hard to make out his face in the dark. "What brings you this way?"
"Coming home after a long day of work." I replied, "You got some car trouble?"
"Yeah I can't get her started. I don't know if the battery needs a jump or what. I used to be good with cars but they got newer and I got older."
I laughed as I walked next to him. He didn't even glance at my tool belt. Easiest way to carry a variety of weapons up close to someone. Who is going to be wary of tools?
"Why are you on this road," I asked taking a cursory glance under the hood. I didn't really know anything about cars other than how to jump them or change a tire. If there was something else wrong I wouldn't even know what to do. That's when it hit me. If the car wasn't even running what would I do if I killed him? I definitely wouldn't be able to move it anywhere?
"Well, I live a few towns over and there's been a few missing posters going around. A girl who lives next door to me has gone missing."
"Oh," I said
"Yeah and they're all looking for her, and I was curious because I always liked seeing her smile, well it's funny though because they're all looking in the woods and stuff but if a girl got a hold of 10 bucks she could take the train this way and then get to the local bus station and hit one of the cities for another 20."
"So you came this way looking for her?"
"Well," he said walking over to the grass. "Kind of. I used to come out here a lot. People used to walk down this road a lot more. Having a car used to be more attractive to strangers. There was a tree that used to be out there not 50 yards into the grass."
"I never knew that," I said
"The stump is still there, it's like a marker for the dead. I guess it kind of still attracts them." He walked back over to the car and shut the hood real quick. I turned back to look at him.
"If you bury them don't bury any near the stump." his eyes were cold. I wanted to say that I didn't know what he was talking about. "Those there are mine. There's a lot of em. Don't disturb em."
"I, I don't"
"Do you understand?" he said.
"I understand." I replied.
&#x200B;
\*\*\*\*\*
Kind lost my flow. I thought the prompt was interesting though because I was just watching clips of manhunter and red dragon on youtube. :P Story started flowing weird but I like to try and finish what I start. | 2019-10-27T01:20:53 | 2019-10-26T23:45:22 | 48 | 30 |
[WP] “So you’ve come hero.” The most powerful dark lord in history says as he faces you across the hall. But before you take another step, he motions to the cutest little girl you’ve ever seen with tears in her eyes. “But first, please explain to my granddaughter why Grandpa needs to die.” | The Dark Lord.
Heh, he was not very impressive. A thin lanky mess of a man, graying and withered. His breathing was shallow, his head rested at an angle on his neck, his eyes white and staring at nothing. Wires protruded across his naked skin, pumping blood and several colored chemicals. My attention snapped as a child, no more than four, auburn hair flowing to her shoulders, nimbly walked to this living corpse and tenderly adjusted his head. She caressed his hands, with the infinite love of innocence.
The Dark Lord sat before me, and yet I could not move to draw my firearm. But this girl. Why couldn't I move?
"So you have come, hero..." the living corpse wheezed. That jolted me, but it breathed: “But first, please explain to my granddaughter why Grandpa needs to die.”
My bravado died as the girl turned to face me.
"Sister..." I sighed.
No, of course not. My sister was dead. Sixteen years and so much suffering ago. And yet here she stood, no older than the day she died, free of the wounds and tears that plagued her life.
"Well?" The dark one asked. "What are you waiting for."
"I... you... WHO IS THIS?!" I finally was about to shout. The girl who was the shade of my sister, the one this corpse called granddaughter recoiled, reaching for it's hand.
"You have survived the wastes and the creatures of light and dark. The corruption, and despair itself. And you wasting time interrogating me?! Tell her!!" he shouted, wheezy but with hints of the power that he once held in his body.
"I..." I paused, and as I looked at her, took courage in her stolen form. I spoke to her almost as if she were her twin. She looked at me wordlessly, frightened.
"I knew someone who looked a lot like you. She was my sister. We grew up out there. Out there, your grandfather is..." I grew nervous as she gripped his hand tighter. "Your grandfather has many names out there, the kindest and most proper being The Dark Lord.
I was prepared to indict him for his sins. If he wanted a confession, he would get his last damned wish.
"Before I was born, it was said our world was on the edge of excess and sin. The world became sick, and wars broke out. Among the heroes your grandfather saw himself counted. He used the old war machines and took control.
"He enslaved people, made them work beyond the limits of their bodies, and killed who couldn't or wouldn't. His followers performed experiments on others. So many got sick, so many died.
"There are..." I fought for words, "MILES of people being slaughtered to be used for food. The leaders he put in place have no regard for human life. My people have lived in the shadows, seen this corruption, and sent me to end it. And end it I shall."
"Does that satisfy you, Dark Lord?" I asked, satisfied.
"No."
My heart froze. It was not the corpse, but the girl. My firearm's holster snapped open, my weapon floated up, out, and toward her, grip first toward her outstretched hand. She folded a delicate finger on the trigger, pointing straight at my heart with the confidence of experience.
"With the marvels you have seen, the impossible monuments to majesty and power, you still have such a LITTLE mind..." she said, exasperated.
"There are few other things humans can eat but living flesh. That your lot are put to death to feed others is a better fate than starving. The others were used to make medicines and treatments. As for the pens, well, how else are we supposed to have extras?"
I was numb. She spoke of humanity little more than stock and feed. I saw a tube running down her head: she was connected to the Dark Lord!
She lowered my weapon. I tried to move, but it was impossible! How...!
"You'll make a great body" she said smiling, this twin of my sister with the mind of the Dark Lord. I felt several pinches of pain: needles appeared from the walls. The tube came loose from the girl, and she collapsed lifelessly. The tube rushed to me, snapping into my skull. I felt a rush of SOMETHING coming into me, losing mind no help -
I woke up an hour later, brisk and alert. I missed the energy of the younger one, but this one was in his prime, with supple reactions and honed reflexes. I heard him screaming somewhere in the corners of my imagination, they all do from time to time, and it meant nothing. A fleeting distraction. I would amuse myself by tormenting him. He could hear my thoughts, and his despair at seeing my memories of just this was delicious to feel.
I would sooner or later break free of my need of the original, that disgusting thing that was the original me. I had survived longer than not, and I would continue to do. Survival of the fittest, they said back in the old days. Words to live by, for ever and ever. | Fury looks on at the old geezer sitting in the throne.
"Divines, you're old. I see Time has not been easy on you," he admits.
"Well you're only still young because you keep Regenerating," the old man argues.
"True. I was always getting killed for your screw ups, big bro."
The old man locks eyes with Fury. The two brothers have had such different lives. While Fury, the younger of the two, had taken on the role of the protector, of the "Hero", Isfet, the elder, had been forced down a different path. A darker path. He is not a bad man, just a victim of circumstance. He is not blind to the things he's done, to the pain he's caused. He knows every thing that has happened because of him. And in that instant that their eyes met, Fury realized something. The elder brother felt guilt. Guilt that ate away at his insides every time he allowed his mind to clear. Guilt that would kill him even if Fury didn't. Still, that doesn't change what he's done.
Fury pulls his cane from his belt, the rod sharpening into a sword.
"You started this war, Isfet. You know that nobody is going to forgive you, even if I do."
"I understand. You are here to kill me, no doubt. I just have one request."
"That being?" Fury asks with a raised eyebrow. Isfet motions to the doorway behind Fury. The hero turns, to see a little girl, who looks to be about eight or nine years of age, clutching a stuffed wolf to her chest.
"Please explain to my granddaughter why I must die," Isfet says simply. Fury's eyes widen.
"Uhm..." The hero is at a loss for words. What do you say in this situation. It's bad enough that he has to kill his own brother. But now he has to explain to this little girl why he must do it? He turns his sword back into the cane and sets it down, kneeling to her height. Tentatively, she approaches him.
"Are you here to kill Papa?" She asks.
"...Yeah. I have to kill Papa."
"But why?"
"Because he's hurt a lot of people."
"But he's sorry!"
"I know. And I forgive him. But everyone else doesn't."
"So why are you the one here?" That question catches him off guard. Why is he here? Fury swallows the lump in his throat, looking at the girl, then back at Isfet.
"Because I'm the only one who can make the right call," he mumbles softly, rising to his feet and making his way to the old man.
"Go on, then. Kill me. I deserve it," he says. He wants this.
"No."
Every one in the room looks at Fury with wide eyes.
"What?" Isfet breathes.
"Did I stutter? I said no. I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to save you," he explains and plunges the dagger into Isfet's throat. "Now. Regenerate you dumb son of a gorgon." He pulls the knife from his throat as the old man begins to glow with a Golden aura before erupting into flames of the same color. When the flames die down, a man looking nearly identical to Fury has taken the old man's place. The tan skin, Blond hair, and Red eyes of the younger brother are now pale skin, White Hair, and Red eyes on the Elder. The man looks at Fury.
"But why?"
"Because I'm sick of being the crowd pleaser. I say it's about time I get to be a little selfish. Don't you?" Fury asks, looking between the revitalized Isfet and the little girl.
...
Ten years have passed since that day. Something had happened. Fury had managed to escape Destiny. He had forged a new path, one where he wasn't alone for the rest of his lives. Instead, he lives his life with his brother and the girl, whom had apparently been named Ma'at. A fitting name. She brought order to their once chaotic lives.
Fury stumbles into the house. He had reached his limit, and now he is dying. For good. Ma'at rushes to his side.
"Are you okay?" She asks.
"I'm fine. Just... You know what? No. I'm not okay. I'm dying. Right here, right now. And it's time for me to pass off the torch," he admits and pulls a necklace from his neck, placing it around her's. "I was the Lord of Time for my entire life. Now, I think the universe could use a more feminine touch. Ain't that right, m'lady?"
"Fury? You're... Asking me to take over?"
"Of course. There is nobody more worthy. Just some words before I go." He rises to his feet, walking around the room. "You can always try to be nice. But you must never fail to be Kind. Never tell anyone your name either. That's a big mistake. And never ever eat pears! Disgusting things." He leans against the wall. "Scratch that. Children can know your name. If their hearts are in the right place, and the stars are, too. But nobody else." He stumbles over to stand in front of her. "Laugh hard. Run fast. And above all, be Kind. Fury, I release you." Finally, he collapses. He doesn't even try to rise again, knowing it would be futile. With his last breath, he whispers in her ear the one secret he thought he would die with. He whispered his name.
And thus, he was allowed to finally take his place among his family. Hos sister, whom he had raised since her birth. His uncle, who was more of a father than his actual one. And his wife and daughter. Both killed in the war. And beside Fury stood Isfet, the brothers' bond finally being restored through Death. Fury recognizes his final resting place as the room where he spared Isfet. This is where his brother became a new man. It is where his new life began. And it is where he will reside, knowing that the universe is in good hands. Finally, peace.
(Yo, this was longer that I thought it'd be. probably strayed a bit far from the prompt but eh, good enough for me) | 2019-12-11T20:56:25 | 2019-12-11T19:41:27 | 53 | 31 |
[WP] You are a nice person, but your superpower is that you instinctively know exactly what to say to someone to crush them. You're very effective in throwing supervillains off their game, but your fellow heroes always feel really uncomfortable watching you work. | Despite what many people think, there isn't actually one perfect line to break someone's spirit. Sure, on the cartoon, they have me say one singular line, and then they'll show whoever I'm talking to reeling back, the line echoing over and over while appropriate, transparent images of their past flash across the screen, but that doesn't really reflect reality. Honestly, most of my effectiveness comes from hours upon hours spent understanding human psychology, allowing me to take the lines that my power feeds me to better understand whoever I'm talking to, so I can set up situations where my lines will have maximum impact.
Anger, Fear, Mania, Despair. Four emotions that I can push people towards. As far as most of the world is concerned, I can only do Despair, because frankly, it is the easiest to predict how people will react to it. Most people will shut down when confronted with despair. They might try to hurt themselves, but the chances of them lashing out blindly are very, very small, making it the safest direction to push villains towards.
The most frustrating thing is how my power is always on. Anytime I interact with someone, I will see four transparent sentences pop up in front of me. One red, flickering like it is on fire. One white, constantly twitching and jittering. One black, seeming to leak an eerie mist. And one blue, seeming like it is melting or slumping over. Each of them tailormade to push whoever I'm talking to a little bit closer to their respective emotion.
Time and experimentation have taught me that the sentence I'm given isn't guaranteed to be the 'best' sentence to push them towards a given emotion, merely 'a' sentence that will do so. If I follow the 'script', I'm pretty much guaranteed to get to the desired emotion eventually, but it can take time and multiple interactions to do so, and so I've had to learn how to pull information from the other sentences, or from past sentences, to construct my own 'ideal' phrasing.
If anger talks about their mother and fear talks about their father, I can make guesses about their home-life when they were young. I can build a model around the kind of life they might have lived, which can provide context for why mentioning how they always would have dropped out of high school can push them closer to despair. Add in a twist, mentioning how their mother always really knew they'd never amount to anything, she was just lying to spare their feelings, and the push to despair happens that much faster.
It's not nice, it's not kind, but the crime statistics show that it is most effective method I could use to getting the criminals off the streets, and getting them to reconsider being criminals at all.
Still, the constant nature of my power opens me up to fearful truths. Hidden secrets get uncovered within those four simple sentences, secrets that I'd probably sleep better not knowing, but will honestly feel the need to track down regardless.
Secrets like why I'm seeing a Fear Sentence of "your scales are showing" while shaking hands with the newly elected President of the United States. | We are trapped. Gullimore has caught us and put us in glass cylinder filled with green, bubbly liquid. It was almost impossible to not let the moistness of it send us unconcious, but we had to fight.
It has been a few hours since we were trapped. We thought we had him in the entrance. Opal had it all planned-Ember would burn out the minions, Ellix would turn off the saws, and Sean would just run to gullimore and snap him off.
Well, Ellix started everything too quick. Instead of turning off the traps, he accidently took off the electricity, including the lights. That turned on the alarm and the emergency generator, summening way more minions than we were prepared. Ember couldn't fight alone against the minions, so Elix had to join with his lightning attacks - big mistake if everything from metal. It hit off sean who was just one foot away from gullimore. Sean was sent forword torwords a cylinder, cracking it a bit.
I didn't need to hear Opal's call to know Sean is down. Ellix and Ember startef to fail. Ember saw me and sent me a burning baseball bat. "just hit as much as you can". I knocked off three minions before falling. One of them grabbed my ankle from behind. Until I took him down four more were already holding onto me. Power was truely not my strength. It seemed Opal was in the same situation pretty fast. And after being alone in a never ending hoard of minions, they fell too.
Gullimore finally returned. He was smirking. *just an awful taste in colour, really*. Not the time for that. "I guess you are confused as to how you are here." he looked at Opal. "maybe you are the most confused one here. Well, this green subsitute neutralizes your power using the amendo crystal" "ThIs GrEeN sUbSiTuTe NeUtRaLiZeS yOuR pOwEr UsInG tHe AmEnDo CrYsTaL, look at me, I am so smart with my crystiliezed chymestry shit, I have a PhD in alchemy" I could vaugely hear Opal voice. "-I have a PhD in multi dimensional chymestry. Do you wanna know what I will do with your power? I-" I looked at Opal's cylinder. It was the one that Sean hit and cracked. "Opal, your power works! We can do something!"
Opal looked at me, then at Gullimore, and then at me again. She knew what will happen of she will help me. But it was the last resort. She channeled me and Gullimore together.
*stop talking about your PhD.*
*what?*
*stop talking about it. It isn't special. You are not special because of it.*
*why, but it is-*
*but it is what, ha? You think that just because you could copy answers from Sarrah you are worthy of this adjective? You have done nothing by yourself in higher channel physics.*
*I have! I tried really hard... And I even scored the best-*
*You cheated! You are just lying to yourself, thinking that telling you are not to anyone else doesn't make it true! You didn't work hard then. You didn't work hard at all! You always exploited your giftedness, and when you failed you didn't even try the slightest!* "stop it"
*I am not... I am not...*
*We are not what? A total fraud? Everyone knows you are. This is why you are here. A villan. Hated by everyone. No body likes you. Nobody never will.* "stop it, please"
*I-I can be worthy of love*
*How, exactly? You have done only bad. Not even the most twisted mined can like you. Not even yourself. You have no worth! If you'd die people would be happy!* "stop! Please, stop!"
Gullimore started to sob. *look at them. You **want** to be like them. You want to be helpful. How funny. You can't. You can't be good, you can't be worthy, you can't be helpful. You are just you. A burden. To them, to this state, to humanity.*
Opal cried too. | 2020-02-25T14:34:20 | 2020-02-25T12:16:42 | 271 | 118 |
[WP] At first, the aliens mocked our technological advancements. After learning it took only a few centuries to move from horse carriages to space ships, they suddenly became more friendly. | "So what you're telling me is they already left their planet?" asked the defense commander.
"Yes"
"Where the hell have you been looking? How long ago did this happen?"
"A few months. I check on them from time to time. Last time I looked they just got around to fire."
"So you are telling me that they went from fire to planet hopping in just a few months?"
"For us it was a few months. In their solar system its been tens of thousands of years"
"On the last report you handed me, Doctor, your Ethological prediction was that they would destroy each other before they discover husbandry. Claiming the brutality of their world could never sustain life. Last year you handed me a report regarding the cold blooded of the planet, that they could pose a threat, so we shot an asteroid at them to neutralize them. What became of that?"
"It seems the cold blooded were replaced by smaller, smarter warm blooded creatures"
"Replaced how?"
"They evolve at an exponential rate. A decade ago they hadn't even left their liquid environment."
"This isn't good."
"No, sir. No it is not. There is more."
"Doctor... you're..."
"Not only have they advanced technologically, They have greatly increased their ability to kill each other. They are destroying their planet in attempts to destroy each other. It shouldn't work, but somehow it is. They are growing whilst destroying themselves at the same time. I think this is why they are exploring other planets.
If this trend continues they are going to expand and continue to destroy each other. We will be collateral damage. They wont care what is in their way. They will grow and destroy, and grow and destroy until they consume everything. At this moment, we cant stop them if we tried. They do not understand peace. Even if we bring them gifts, they will kill us before we get a chance to speak to them. There is no way to stop them."
"I'm assigning more workers to your task force, you must keep me informed on this threat"
"Sir, I..."
"What is it doctor?"
"I know how long it will take to get your request through our bureaucratic system. Even by the time this conversation is over, I don't know where they will be"
"So what is your suggestion, Doctor?"
"Run."
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
First time in a long time posting something in this sub, hope you readers enjoy! | We were pawns to them. Mere pieces on a galactic game board. An amusement, maybe a diversion for their extremely long and otherwise stagnant existence. Elves, Vampires, all the old stories and tales have at their core one of these visitors, especially the cruelest and most unkind ones. They had the universe by the tail, FTL travel and technology akin to magic, though they long since forgot how to, or even who made it to begin with. They thought themselves akin to gods, immortal with unlimited power and possibility.
They were mistaken.
When they first visited earth, they could have destroyed us at a whim. They experimented for their own amusement. Viruses and plagues from a thousand worlds introduced to see what would happen. Political games and hundred year wars just to settle a bet. It was the darkest of times, but they were careless as well. Miracles that only worked when touching a particular device are less divine when a human can use them just as easily, and it didn’t take us long at all to find out they could bleed. We watched, and learned, and waited.
They never stayed long. In between, the roots of our rebellion took hold. Secret societies and cellular organizations became second nature to us, and we did what humans do best: we absorbed information and we learned. Once we knew something could be done, it was a simple matter of figuring out what we needed to know to repeat it. Sometimes it took us centuries, but faced with a static opponent who had not faced a real perceived threat for millennia, we progressed at a geometric rate.
They still had the power to destroy us, but they never worked well together. Cooperation was anthema to them, information a thing to be hoarded and traded for favor, so they never noticed when we started to fight back. Suddenly the stories started to have a happy ending. The monster didn’t always win, and they had weaknesses to exploit. Over thousands of years humanity developed immunities to the plagues and horrors they infected us with, and we grew more dangerous and capable. By the time they noticed we were killing them, we were already in space.
That finally shocked them enough to try and work together. It took them 100 years to form a coalition that could tolerate one another long enough to form an invasion fleet. World destroyers, Superdreadnoughts, enough ships to blot out the sun from the sky readied themselves to end this newfound human threat.
It only took us 10 of those years to build a bigger fleet.
They called themselves the coalition of RA. They said they came in peace. They were very surprised when the first peaceful surprise salvos they launched at our atmosphere failed to have any effect. And that their peaceful weapons systems all suddenly melted. Probably almost as surprised as they were when they were all unceremoniously extracted from their ships by the very “magic” teleporters they first used on us all those years ago. Their surrender after that was swift and total, but the biggest surprise was still to come.
For the RA, defeat was the end. They did not expect to live to see another day, because they would have killed us out of hand just for the thrill of it. So they were shocked when we decided to spare their lives. They weren’t a threat to us anymore, and we didn’t see a need to exterminate them. We left them alone, stripped of their technology and left them alone with a choice: find a way to change and come explore the stars with us, or wither in isolation. Most rejected that offer. A few unlikely souls did have the essential spark of curiosity though, and did overcome their own nature, eventually becoming trusted and valued members of our fledgling star federation. | 2020-07-07T09:07:29 | 2020-07-07T08:26:15 | 43 | 21 |
[WP] Murder is rare; killing someone means their remaining years are 'subtracted' from yours. Likewise, saving a life (or lives) adds time to your own. Nobody knows why. Centuries ago you killed a young man by accident (usually resulting in instant death). You haven't aged since. | You recall how after a few decades people started noticing and your life began to fall apart. You were a marvel at first, then a freak and eventually people started getting scared of you. Wild rumours about your body parts being magic burst from seemingly nowhere and it didn't take long before even your closest friends and family conspired to capture you for their own gains.
You've spent nearly a century in hiding, moving from place to place, never staying long enough to be recognized. Only after your existence finally faded into myth did you find any peace. Once it was possible, you spent the remaining centuries building yourself and your knowledge as well as a vast wealth. You dedicated yourself to finding answers and using all your resources, hired the best and most talented medics, healers and scholars you could find.
Now you have lived nearly six centuries. In that time, you've watched humanity grow and evolve very rapidly, some of it's scientific developments you are proud to say you've invested in yourself. Your incredibly expensive technological ventures are now patented and you are the shadow head of the worlds most advanced spacefaring multinational corporation.
Six centuries of studying the dug up corpse of that young man you killed has produced an extraordinary discovery. That young man was not human. One look at the DNA extracted cleared that up right away. So naturally, you steered your resources towards space navigation and travel, you were going to get your answers even if you had to search the galaxy for them. | It never occurred to me that I might live this long. I figured maybe a year or two after that, but here I am.
Off course I know his name. He was my friend, it was really stupid and I haven’t owned a gun ever in this long life. I have refused to ever touch a gun.
At first I figured he didn’t have much time left anyway, since I didn’t die immediatly. That softened some of the guilt I felt. His parents didn’t really blame me, it was their gun and we were just playing, but they couldn’t bare seeing me either. And I don’t blame them. They must have realised he didn’t have much time left anyway. when I turned 40, they took their own lives. We lived in a small town and they mustve heard about it, I was somewhat of a celebrity back then. I think they might have figured out by then what took me much much longer. To me he could have been killed young, maybe in his 20s anyway, from an aneurism or something, who knows.
My parents never realised until they died themselves in their 80’s and I was just starting to form an idea back then.
You see, I’m 8567 years old today, I look about 20 to 30 I think.
I started getting fed up with life when the last person I loved died, I was around 120 years old then.
She died at 79 due to complications while being operated on for a heartcondition.
People in the hospital thought she was my mother while in reality I could’ve been her grandfather.
But I digress.
About 30 years later I was drunk and got into an argument with this guy at a bar. Bystanders told me to stop beating him or I would kill them, thinking that would hold me back.
It did, but not for the reason they thought.
By then I had figuren my childhood friend must’ve been a spree killer at some point in his life. Maybe he would’ve placed a carbomb or took a gun into a school or something so I saved 20 or so lives. Doing the match I would live for approximately another 1200 years.
I didn’t want to live that long. At all.
Since then Ive been keeping books with all my victims in it. Pictures of them, smiling at barbecues and holding their loved ones, or just sitting on a bench, enjoying the sunshine.
I write about their lives, who they were, who they loved, what they enjoyed doing. So when I finally die, people will know.
I’m on my 72nd book now, which adds up to about 14000 young people I killed. And I’m still here. | 2020-11-02T01:02:31 | 2020-11-02T00:43:48 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] most interstellar navies of the Galaxy adapted tactics from their wet-navy cousins. That was until humanity arrived they had an ocean so most figured they would adapt their wet Navy tactics to their space Navy, instead they adapted tactics from something they called the air Force. | The Atraxian fleet was coming at us. They flew in from the far edge of pluto along the system plane. We had plenty of time to see them coming. Three large dreadnoughts, with escort vessels down to destroyer levels. Multiples of 3’s, 3 battleships, 9 cruisers, 27 destroyers each. Arrayed like a dendrite pattern. All classic saucer shapes.
Here’s the crazy part, All in a plane. Like they were on water. Our tacticians were baffled We couldn’t see any reason for this. It was postulated that it was something to do with their form of propulsion.
It took them 12 months to make their way to Earth. It’s amazing how a common foe can galvanize mankind. We tried talking to them, even succeeded after 9 months. Once we got the translations, and encodings of laser beam communications established. Boy they were a bunch of pompous assholes; throwing down tirades like all classic bullies do, “We are here to lay claim to your planet” , “you are now part of the Atraxian empire”, “you will capitulate”, blah blah blah. The important part is we kept them talking. We had time after all.
The Atraxians, they were sure a talkative bunch. We asked them to send us “examples” of how they would destroy us. They sent us their tactical manuals “for beginners” and battle footage. It astounded us, it was classic naval engagement doctrines we learned 100 years ago. Sit at extreme range and bombard with big rocks kind of stuff. Guns along the edge of the saucers.
We did confirm that the “gravity drive” they used was tied to the axial gravitational plane of the system. It was the most efficient way to travel. Almost every race in the galaxy used it. It’s what formulated their battle plans. All races that they saw combat this way, and over millennia they did not think of space as having a noticeable Z axis.
The Atraxians came in, and we could see the cables attached to asteroids they picked up beyond mars, if they held to doctrine they’d turn and release the cables about the distance of the Moons’ orbit.
We kept stalling in our communications. Keeping them talking, that we had to vote, we had to pass laws to allow us to have a world wide vote. The world Politicians kept them talking and stalling them.
Meanwhile, the worlds industrial might had a very quick galvanized response. We did not have the ability to make these large dreadnoughts, hell, we were lucky to get some Destroyer level construction underway in geosynchronous orbit. If all went well, we’d have 33 of them. But on earth, well, we made over 5000 fighter craft.
A couple of our greater brain trusts came up with a hybrid kind of drive. Use the gravitational axis drive to get up to speed, then use nuclear reactors to break water into rocket fuel. This let us break out of the plane. We also modified some of the drives to be able to create their own gravity wave that could be “surfed” for lack of a better term. Creating a high gravity pressure wave that would drag the ship or torpedo behind it.
When they were at the maximum range of our craft, about half the distance to mars, we launched. The atraxians laughed at our “navy”. “you don’t have the firepower to get past the escorts” “you can’t take sustained fire like our battleships”. “you don’t even have rocks in tow!”.
We broadcast messages of “it’s a ceremonial fleet to welcome you”, “it’s the best honor fleet we could develop”. From the communications, it looks like they were buying it.
Until we went radio silent.
About a week before the fleets would intercept, we broke from the planar axis. The destroyers with gravity wave drives craft kept going forward. Fighters firing their nuclear engines, breaking above and below the plane. Zero emissions were visible from the front of the fighters.
The recordings of the battle that came back were reminiscent of old gun camera footage from WW2. Fighters dive bombing at fractional C speeds, veering off at the last possible moment flying past their targets. They fired ball bearings and high energy lasers. And each had 2 gravity wave torpedo’s. from the angles they were dive bombing, each Atraxian ship looked like a giant bullseye of a dinner plate.
the Atraxians ships were well armored on the outside rim. The tops and bottoms were relative tissue paper. Their guns were placed on this edge, to fire outward. It’s like they never thought to shoot up or down.
Ball bearings at near C speeds punched holes tearing up structures, penetrating deep into their targets. Energy beams hit sensitive areas triggering secondary explosions.
The grav wave weapons created interference patterns as their fields interacted and overlapped. The destroyer waves distorted the atraxian’s gun fire. Bending UV laser beams off course. Then tore apart the escorts as they surfed by. Tearing apart the rocks they had in tow as well. The torpedo’s ripped and rended the hulls of ships they passed to fragments.
After the waves finished their attack runs, and starting the day’s long turn around to make a second pass, battle damage assessment was coming back to Earth. The damage was horrendous. Two dreadnoughts crippled and not maneuvering. The third was venting atmosphere. Several of their destroyers were just vaporized, unable to handle the gravity fields. Several cruisers were in pieces. The battleships weren’t much better.
We sent them one broadcast. General Jeff SaintClaire’s words are immortalized. “Welcome to Earth. You can surrender and we can help with casualties, or we can go for round two. Your choice” | The manuever had been a good one, or at least that's what I had thought. One hundred of our fighters had swung around onto the left flank of the Rackmond fleet before there big ships even had time to turn. When the lead squadron began their run I was fully expecting a beautiful laser show to cascade from our fighters and onto the hulls of the enemy vessels, followed by a pat on the back and maybe even a promotion. Instead I watched as all 10 members of the lead squad hit a brick wall, or rather a metal wall.
Before our fighters even came close to breaking the maximum engagement distance for the manuever, they were met by a hail of lead and other dense metals, most of them being spit from rail guns on the side of the enemy vessels. The nimble fighters had no hope of dodging the onslaught, the projectiles were moving at 10 times the speed of sound and were as densely packed as yard grass. I turned away when the first 5 fell, instead relying upon the callouts of my assistant commander. "90 remaining, 85, 80 left, 75 now", he rambled grimly.
At 70 I ordered a retreat, after all it is better to live to fight another day.
Unfortunately only 62 of my pilots would get to do so, the other 38 having been cut down by the enemies weapons trying to follow my orders. All I could do was shake my head stoicly as the fighters came in for landing, theirs silver wings now potmarked from close calls with shrapnel. Our fate was now sealed, before me sat a baker's dozen enemy warships and I only had a carrier and two support vessels now that the fighters had been slaughtered, my only hope would be retreat.
The room was silent when I entered the bridge, each of my footsteps loudly resonated as I walked to the communication post. The soldiers had the number already typed in when I arrived, with a gesture the comms commander hit enter and a projection appeared in front of me.
My adversary had a looked happy to see me, if a Rackmond can look like any human emotion that is. For a second we stared at each other's images in silence until I grimly said"Esteemed Gatchore 1st El Rein, the battle is lost and to you I graceously give victory".
El Rein rubbed two of it's appendages together as the translator spat out my statement of surrender. It's mandibles split as the translator concluded and after a string of clicks, clacks, and what I can only describe as rocks being destroyed, my translator began. "We gladly accept the mark commander, and I must say you humans fight halfway well, if not for are broadside guns you would have surely won the day", the mechanical voice said, "but I must ask where you borrowed your tactics from."
I cleared my throat and stole a glance at my nearest assistant before continuing, the poor officer cadet looked as sick as I felt. "Well, we, uh, took the tactics of our air force". An aide got my attention before I could continue, her gestulations serving to remind me of who I was talking to. "An air force is an in atmosphere flying force Gatchore 1st Rein", I quickly added.
"Ah, we have to thick of an atmosphere for that, but our allies the Te'eck do, or at least did. They found that a naval style force was much more effective and I would advise the same to you human."
I had to smile at that, things do come full circle I guess but trying to tell my superiors that would be a waste of my breath. "I'll bring that up to my command Gatchore", I said politely. In reality any challenge to the status quo would go unheard, espically in the military, "You don't know how glad I am this was just a drill exercise".
"So am I human, I have a feeling that a real battle would have been much worse for us", the alien replied. He was just humoring me, diplomacy coming before ego.
Unfortunately diploacy doesn't usually come before pride, a fact that has now placed that long ago skirmish into the forefront of my mind. Relations with the Rackmond had broken down rapidly shortly after that day, now my fleet was yet again assembled against them, only this time we were not just playing for glory and gloating rights, we were fighting for survival.
Just as I had thought command had ignored my recommendations and now I was stuck with the same one hundred fighters against a war fleet that could easily decimate all of them. Only this time decimation meant dead people, and not just soldiers and pilots either, we were the last line of defense for the moon colony of Eurongal 1-tK.
Ever since war had broken out I had spent every waking minute combing old naval and air force records for a strategy the might work, only one had presented itself and survived scrutiny. It was a horrible strategy, a plan that should have gone out when the first atomic bomb hit Japan, but it may very well be the only way.
10 pilots await me as I step into the room, each one a squad commander and 9 of them veterans of the exercise against the Rackmond. "Have you done as I asked", I question solemnly.
"Yes sir", a blond female commander says sharply, "roughly 60 men and women remain and all are ready for the fight".
I nod solemnly at her, she should have a bright future in the military. "Alright", I say as I pull on my helmet, "Smithers, McRoy, you're both staying behind". Both opened their mouths to protest but I cut them off, "both of you have spouses and kids, I can lead McRoys squad and Sgt. Drecker can handle Smithers as good as anyone".
The two had been here for long enough they knew complaint was pointless. Instead they both give the sharpest salutes I will probably ever see and left. Without another word the rest of us make our way down to he fighters, those without large families back home forming in behind us as we go down the ships hallways.
Finally we reach the hangar and a mass of gleaming vessels ready to fly. In front of them is the remaining 40 pilots, each locked into attention. "Is there no other way", the blond commander asks quietly as we walk past our comrades who still sit at attention despite my best efforts to put them at ease.
"No", I say simply with breaking stride. I look at her as we reach my ship, her face is a beautiful one, full of duty and purpose. I decide there are far worse faces to be the last one someone sees. I steal one more look at her at the top of the ladder, right before catapulting myself into the vessel's cockpit and slamming the lid shut on myself.
As I lead my soldiers out of the hangar and towards the enemy ships a single word fills my mind, and as we draw closer to our targets I first whisper and then scream it. "Kamikaze". | 2020-11-21T19:49:06 | 2020-11-21T19:31:40 | 176 | 77 |
[WP] Drunk, you accidentally trip and fall onto a busy road. Just as a truck barrels towards you, you scream and suddenly time itself pauses. Shocked at first, you cautiously explore the still universe you created. However, now it's been 5 years and you still haven't been able to unfreeze time. | Today is the 5 year anniversary. Over the last year, I have found myself pondering. The first few years were great. They started with playing pranks, waiting for the seemingly inevitable divine unpause. When that never happened, I started living. Living the life few dream of and even fewer lived before the pause. The food never became stale and I had the best food every single day. The cars were just lying around, so I drove the best. Had movie theatres to myself. Taught myself to fly. But even though nothing got old physically, they did metaphorically.
For the last year, I understood why the gods, in all the books that I have found myself reading, felt that immortality was a curse. It was boring. Boring without belief. I tried talking to people but it was like talking to a wall. Nothing changed and I found myself looking for a way out.
5 years later, I am back. Back where it all started. The fateful road where the world stood still for me. I wished the pause to end. The world to continue. The people to move once more. To hear sounds not made by me. For anything at all.
Then I noticed something. A small dim light on the road. I bent down to pick it up. It wouldn’t budge. So I knelt down to have a closer look. It seemed like a button from a keyboard. It had a small horizontal triangle on it. I pressed it.
Loud blaring noises began once more. For a microsecond, I noticed the button now showed two vertical lines, while slowly fading away. Then a loud slam and everything became black. | I wake up every morning, feeling like a fool.
Could it have been punishment for the seemingly harmless crimes of mine? That would make more sense than having supernatural abilities, since until now I haven't gotten any more 'power' in me to fix things. It could just be me. Maybe I'm the only one stuck here. Yes. It must be punishment.
It's now been too long, everyday is a replica of the last. There's nothing I want to do, and there's nothing to be done. Today is January 16th, 1997. Or if I've been counting right, January 16th 2002.
At first, I was amused. The only thought I had was that I had gone overboard. I was happy, but only until I realized I wasn't crazy. But on this day, every year, I walk up to the red bus that could have made my life easier. The bus that could have stopped it. You see, I'm lonely. I have all the people in the world to talk to, but no one who will answer. I can watch every movie on the planet, but I have no one to laugh with. Even the fact that no one can stop me from taking whatever I want is diminishing.
Once again, I stood before the bus, staring up at the terrified faces who actually cared about me, even if it was for a split second. I never imagined the one thing I wanted from a person now was that they wouldn't have cared. Or at least mother nature wouldn't have.
I looked around the town that had been silenced for what felt like an eternity. I noticed something - something I hadn't noticed before. A woman, standing on the sidewalk. She was leaning forward, groceries falling out of her bag. Her eyes were fixed to the bus. To me. Then I remembered. I was supposed to meet someone. I had completely forgotten about it that day. I was supposed to meet my sister. Anne. No one else was fast enough to see me. Only the people on the bus, and the only other person who would've already been looking. My sister. Sure enough, her name tag read Anne, in unfamiliar handwriting. She looked just like my mom.
I hadn't met her since I was a child, and after my parents separated we were forbidden to meet. Dad said it would be 'bad bonding'. And now, here she stood before me, worried. And there's nothing I can do. A candy bar was on the ground next to her. My favourite. The one I would always beg my mom for when we went shopping. She had to buy it, because of her guilty conscience of bringing me without choice. I picked it up and opened it. It was five years old, but perfectly fine. But honestly, I couldn't tell if it was because of the time I screwed up, or because it was a candy bar. And we all know those things last forever. | 2021-01-09T03:02:57 | 2021-01-09T02:41:09 | 60 | 25 |
[WP]: No other intelligent, spacefaring life form knows the concept of sunk cost fallacy. For most of them, wars can be ended simply by presenting their capability for further war, and the weaker one yields. Humans, however, will take anyone on out of pure spite. | The shrieks filled the small war room. Not the sound of a tortured individual or the cries of a defeated foe, begging for mercy. These shrieks were the kind of shrieks of a pure, primal frustration. The Dresk has shown that they had a capacity to make war in a way the humans could never match. They didn't have the industrial capacity, the trade network, or the technology to take the Dresk Republic one-on-one. Nor did they have the training, military numbers or population to sustain conflict in any meaningful way.
On paper.
That was the kicker, wasn't it? These hairless mammalian bipeds seemed to move forward not on logic, reason, or skill. Intuition was not the name of their species highest skillset. No, humans, and their formerly fractured empire, seemed to operate purely on spite and stubbornness. The Dresk has requested a concession of a minor system for mining, a system not previously even mined by the humans. In return the owner of the system would have been granted fifteen percent of all earnings from the system, an extremely generous offer. The response had been swift. "No." Bolded, and in a particularly scripted font. Someone had had to produce paper and ink, solely for the purpose of sending the response. Within a month a mining operation was set up.
The Republic had then agreed to take the system by force. A simple operation, park a Fleet in orbit of the (barely habitable) planet used as the mining facility headquarters, and besiege the planet. A few planetary rotations, they would surrender, and now the humans would gain nothing from the conquest but shame. In and our, an easy operation, especially when humanity was given a quick rundown of what they would be up against. So the fleet arrived, the space port and military installation, if you could call it that, were destroyed and a letter of request for surrender was sent. The Republic had expected the matter to be closed.
The term "Get fucked" had taken a translator a few hours to figure out, but once it had been deciphered the annoyance grew. What possible resistance could less than a million humans put up in a back water system? A blockade was placed around the planet and mining vessels were brought into the asteroid belt to begin extraction. But the mining vessels were hit in aggressive hit and run tactics, the blockage was struggling to keep supply ships from landing and supplying the planet, and the cost to keep up the operation was growing by the day. Maintenance ships were brought in, more naval presence, anything to stop the attacks and starve out the squatters.
Research was conducted, in hopes of better understanding the for, and the Dresk commander had all but rolled his eyes (or would have, if he had muscles to move his eyes) at the study of these creatures. They had risen to be the apex of their species not through the fastest reflexes, sharpest claws or toughest armour. No, they had simply kept following their prey until they simply laid down and died. That was it, they were just more persistent than their enemies. Two solar cycles into the invasion and with minimal cost the humans were actually winning the conflict. Republic public opinion of the occupation was dwindling, and due to the constant set backs the mining facilities were not even worth keeping operational. Military loses were well past acceptable limits, and the government was starting to think of the entire venture as a waste of resources. Eventually they were forced to simply pull out, the cost to maintain it simply too great to be worth it. They had even been forced to pay their own concessions for the resources the humans expended, leapfrogging their technology by decades.
The commander had, of course, had the blame pinned on him, reading the letter of recall. He was the one who had botched the operation, or that was how the government and military would spin it, the failure to hold a single system from an inferior species. A laughing stock in the streets, and a scapegoat in the chambers.
Dresk researchers spent years studying this human behaviour, the ability to put resources into a strategy that involves sitting and expecting their desired outcome in spite of any reasonable creature knowing it wasn't worth it. And in the future, in a back water bar the Dresk commander of the invasion, long since disgraced was sought out by some cocksure diplomats looking to invade a small human colony on their border. They presented their data, battle plans and proof of combat superiority to the humans. On paper they were the superior combatant. They asked the commander what he thought the out come would be, hope in their eyes and fire in their stomachs. The Dresk, taking a sip of his drink let out a noise as close to a laugh as his species had.
"You'll get fucked." | The red dust of the Martian surface began to clear, and the truth was made evident: the humans had lost.
General Zin to his Martian brother, a somber look on his face. It was not meant to come to this. Peace was all they ever wanted; the humans could have learned much from them. And yet.
“How many of their troops remain?” Zin asked.
“Less than forty percent,” Kohn answered. Curved green characters danced across a black screen in front of him, accompanied by various beeps and hums.
Zin nodded. “It is done, then. An unfortunate loss of life, but a necessary one. Prepare to send word to the humans, let them know—“
“Uh, sir,” Kohn interrupted, pointing to the console. “They appear to be advancing.”
Zin’s scaled brow furrowed, a nervous hiss sounding in is throat. “That’s not possible. They’ve yet to take out a single one of our ships. Your equipment must be wrong.”
Kohn tapped the screen, shaking his head. “It doesn’t appear to be, sir. The humans are—“
A sudden collision rocked the ship, nearly sending the men to their knees. Zin’s four legs spread to a wide stance, keeping him steady as the shipped regained its posture.
“Damage?” he asked.
“Superficial,” Kohn answered. “Their weapons remain ineffective.”
Zin stepped to the window of his ship, a single layer of blue plasma stretched across its face. He could see burning piles of metal spread across the surface—the remnants of the human army—while his fleet remained high above the surface, hovering, unmoved.
From within the plumes of smoke several gray and tan vehicles roared across the surface, their oddly flat edges fighting against the Martian wind. Humans hung from the sides of their impractical vessels, aiming useless weapons upward at the fleet. Flashes of red shot forth, upward, doing little more than lighting up the air around them.
“Send word to the human leader,” Zin said. “Tell him I wish to meet to discuss their terms of surrender.”
Kohn nodded. “As you wish, sir.”
Several moments passed before the human assault came to a halt, the few remaining vehicles lined up behind a row of colorfully-suited humans. A message returned, one of reluctant agreement, and Zin made his way to the surface.
A small circular device on Zin’s lapel allowed his words to be translated to their language. He hated the sound it made—their words were rudimentary, ugly. Lacking all nuance of the Martian lexicon. But they would have to do.
A man stepped forward, his suit hissing and whirring as he moved. Zin approached, moving fluidly along the sand.
“Are you the leader of this force?” Zin asked, trying to hide his discomfort at the words coming from his translator.
“Admiral Jackson,” the man said. He stood straight as a board, though even with the added height of his suit, he fell well short of Zin’s height. “I’m prepared to accept your surrender.”
Zin blinked. “I’m afraid our message must not have been translated properly,” he said, silently cursing his underling for his failure. “You have lost this battle. It is you who is meant to surrender.”
The admiral raised an open palm to the air, prompting several of the humans behind him to raise their weapons in Zin’s direction.
“I’ve lost nothing as long as I’m still breathing,” he said.
Zin scanned the line of soldiers, perplexed by their actions. “Your forces have been reduced by more than half. I have suffered no losses. If this battle continues, you will all be destroyed. You must surrender. There is no other end to this.”
“We don’t surrender.”
Zin tapped the translator on his lapel, wondering for a moment if his words were not coming through clearly. Their forces could not win this battle. It was impossible. So why did this man refuse so?
“But this is the way of war,” Zin said. “You cannot win. Surrender. Survive. And we can begin our assimilation. There is much we can teach you about—“
“Like I said,” Jackson reiterated, “We don’t surrender.” His hand still held in the air, he curled his fingers into a fist.
And the soldiers behind him opened fire.
Each beam of red collided with the invisible field around Zin, disappearing with a flash of blue sparks. The hexagonal field lit up as each blast collided, though none came close to piercing it.
“This makes no sense,” Zin said, raising his voice to be heard over the sound of gunfire. “You have lost. Why do you still—“
The admiral lunged forward, pulling a small black blade from his belt. Zin dodged his advance with ease, still in awe at the sight. Again the admiral lunged, swiping and slashing at the air as Zin moved freely around him.
A buzz sounded in Zin’s ear, followed by a transmission from the fleet above.
“General, what do you want us to do?”
As the admiral dashed forward, Zin reached out with a long, curled hand, snatching the man around his neck. The knife fell to the sand without a sound, while Admiral Jackson swatted at Zin’s arm with gloved hands.
“It seems the humans no nothing of war,” Zin said, fighting his grip. The admiral’s attacks grew weaker, his fragile body failing with each passing second. With a quick flick of his wrist, Zin watched the man go limp. And then he tossed his body aside and turned back toward the shuttle that brought him to the surface.
“They wish to be destroyed,” Zin relayed to the fleet. “So be it.”
>More nonsense at r/Ford9863 | 2021-01-18T21:29:13 | 2021-01-18T19:47:06 | 1,963 | 178 |
[WP]: No other intelligent, spacefaring life form knows the concept of sunk cost fallacy. For most of them, wars can be ended simply by presenting their capability for further war, and the weaker one yields. Humans, however, will take anyone on out of pure spite. | “Glorp! Just the intelligent spacefaring life form I want to see. How was earth?” Glarm said with his arms spread wide.
“It was,” pausing a bit too long. “OK, I guess. Not what I was expecting if I’m being honest.” Glorp said as he entered the navigation room.
“Well, they can’t all be Betelgeuse-7 right? Let’s just file away their terms of surrender and we can be off to the next one.” Glarm said. He held his arm out expecting the paperwork.
“About that, they didn’t actually surrender.” Glorp said not able to look Glarm in the eyes.
Glarms arm slowly fell back to his side.
“What do you mean they didn’t surrender? No one just doesn’t surrender. Did you explain to them the depths of our supply lines?” Glarm asked.
“Of course! That’s my go to. It always gets a quick surrender.” Glorp said.
“And what was their response?” Glarm asked.
Glorp cleared his throat. “They said they would fight till every last one if them was dead before they would surrender to alien scum.”
“How dramatic. Why would anyone want to die from war?” Glarm said confused.
“That’s what I said!” Glorp said.
“What about a siege? Did you explain that we can lay siege in perpetuity. That theres no way they can outlast us.” Glarm said.
“I brought that up with their leaders as well. They just laughed.” Glorp said.
“They did not! What’s wrong with these barbarians?” Glarm said in disbelief.
“Turns out they’ve never really left their planet anyway. They have always just survived off what Earth is capable of providing.” Glorp explained.
“Wow, that sounds so boring. How do they live like that?” Glarm said.
“Trust me, if you’ve seen what I’ve seen down there it’s barely classified as living.” Glorp said.
“So I guess we need to make them aware of the multitude of devastating weapons we can unleash on them. You hate to see it get to this point but some people just don’t understand.” Glarm said shaking his head in disappointment.
“Oh I told them all about the weapons. They didn’t take to kindly to the threat. In fact one of them shouted ‘never surrender!’ And shot Glen.” Glorp said.
“They shot Glen?!? I love that guy.” Glarm exclaimed.
“Oh he’s fine. It was just a basic metallic projectile. Went straight through him. No need to worry.” Glorp said.
“Phew,” glarm said and wiped his brow. “I don’t know what I would have done if we lost Glen.” Glarm said relieved. “So what’s the plan now? It’s never gotten to this point.”
“We have a contingency plan. It’s not pretty tough though. We use our shape-shifting abilities and we infiltrate their elite class. You know, the politicians and celebrities. Then we convince them to surrender from the inside.” Glorp said.
“Sounds like a lot of work. What if we just poison their oceans?” Glarm said.
“They’re already doing that themselves.” Glorp said.
“The lunatics! Ok I guess the old shape-shift take over it is. We need to be done by mid galactic cycle though. I have a vacation planned and I’ll be damned if I’m stuck way out here instead. | “I don’t understand,” the Thulian Emissary said, sighing and shaking its head with disbelief. “You have been defeated. We have destroyed your militaries. We have destroyed your cities. I have shown you over and over what will happen if you continue this war. It is finished. Surrender and become part of our empire. Surrender and—”
“Shut your ugly hole,” the representative for the United Peoples of the World said to the tentacled alien floating in a gaseous cloud. “Who da the hell do ya’ think we are? Hmmm!”
The Thulian Emissary sighed and spoke again slowly and firmly. “I think you are a species who has lost 99% of its population. I think you are a species who is living underground like “rats,” as you would say. I think you are a species without hope. And please don't believe for a second there is any hope to continue this pointless war. You are defeated completely and utterly. Subjugation is your one and only choice. That is your only hope. And I will not come back here to ask you again.”
“You say we lost 99% of our population. I say ya ugly cellaphods did us a favor! You got rid of the free-loaders, the weak, the hangers-on! Look around—” the President of the remaining humans swept his hand to a scattered and all-together pathetic looking crowd of humans who looked like they hadn't eaten in a month. Most were cripppled horribly from the endless war with the Thulian Empire. “These brave men and women will never be subjects in your little empire. You want to take our guns? Take our freedom? I say you can take ‘em from our cold dead hands, ya’ octopus lookin’ motha’ licka! I been turning you sacks of jelly into calamari my whole life and I ain’t gonna stop now.”
“Look,” the Emissary said, trying another route. “I admire your grit. Even when we showed up and blotted out your sky you were not afraid. Not even when you were presented with our overwhelming capabilities. No one has ever dared stand up to us. Even now you know what will happen and you still resist. I admire your zeal. Your spite. Your hatred for us "aliens". I understand it must be scary. I understand you are a proud species. But there is a time when you must accept the outcome. This is your only chance to escape complete annihilation. I need an answer from you NOW. Please listen to me… wait, what are you doing?”
The scraggly President proceeded to turn around and pull down his pants and wave his behind at the emissary.
“That’s our answer to you, ya' son of a mollusk.” The others started laughing and cheering and firing off their rifles.
“FINE!” the emissary shouted. “I’m done trying to save you stubborn fools!”
The emissary rose into the sky in a blink with the crowd’s chant of *UPW! UPW! UPW! UPW!* trailing behind.
* &#x200B;
"Any change?" The leader of the Thulian Senate asked the Emissary.
The Emissary shook its head no.
"Are you sure they understand what will happen?"
"I am sure," the Emissary said. "I've explained it to them over and over."
"You told them about our planet destroyer, right?"
"Of course."
"I have never seen such a bullheaded species!" The Senator said. "Not even those cantankerous blobs on Andromeda put up such a resistance."
"I don't understand," one of the other senators said. "These creatures are the most irrational beings we have ever met. They are not driven by fear. They seem only to be driven by their hatred for us."
"I must admit I admire them in some small way," the leader of the Senate said. "It's just too bad we couldn't show them the foolishness of fighting us. It's like they'd rather be exterminated than to be seen as cowards."
The room was silent, then one of the other senators raised a tentacle and said, "what if we played to their pride? And to their hate? What if we told them we wanted to be their partners." He shrugged. "We could send them in as the our Empire's front line. Their irrational belligerence will confuse and terrify our enemies. And the humans will get all the fighting that their hearts desire."
The Emissary sighed and said, "I will ask them."
* &#x200B;
"Well, why the hell didn't you say that from the beginning!" The president shouted at the Emissary as he walked over and shook its tentacle.
\--
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | 2021-01-18T18:48:53 | 2021-01-18T18:30:23 | 647 | 375 |
[WP]The villain looked smug. "I will use this to locate every single person you've loved and instantly kill them!" He says, while stepping on the hero. "Please no-" and before the hero could finish, the machine returned a beep and on it, is the villains location. ".. oh" | "Hm." Nico's brow wrinkled as he looked at the beeping dot on the device. "Just a second, gonna reboot this thing."
Blake swallowed hard against the sole of Nico's leather boot, lying prone and helpless on the floor as the blonde man stood on him. Sweat started to prickle on his brow. "Listen--"
Nico switched the device off and on again, waiting through the awkward silence as the boot-up screen went through its loading animation. "Technology, am I right? I swear, the more advanced it gets, the more can go wrong with it." His boot remained pressed on Blake's throat.
"Nico, you don't--" Blake rasped, but was interrupted by the beeping of Nico's device.
"Right, okay, here we go. What was I saying? Oh yeah, that's right." He cleared his throat, hefting the device dramatically in one hand. "This device will locate and kill anyone that you love!"
*beep beep beep beep beep--*
Nico swivelled his head sharply to look down at the device, which was once again showing his location. His expression went on a journey of discovery through annoyed confused, intrigued, disbelieving, and finally, awkward.
"Uh."
Blake averted his eyes, since his head was held firmly in place. "Yeah."
"So," Nico started, scratching the back of his blonde head, "all those times you kept showing up at my secret base, you weren't trying to thwart me..?"
"Not... not initially," Blake said haltingly. "I mean, yeah, you needed stopping, but... I just never worked up the nerve to talk to you, you know?"
Nico seemed to remember where they were and removed his boot from Blake's neck. Blake coughed and rubbed at the boot print pressed into his throat, staggering up onto his feet.
Nico, hands stuffed awkwardly in his pockets, scuffed his foot against the gravelly floor. He'd switched off the device. "You should've said something."
"Like what? 'Hey, mister villain who literally just blew up the police precinct, you're kind of hot, can I get your number?'"
There was a long, awkward silence, neither knowing what to say next, neither quite believing how the situation had taken such a huge turn.
Nico very carefully didn't look at Blake, his head tilted to the side. After a while, he spoke with a very casual tone. "So, do you like waffles? There's, um, a pretty good waffle place downtown. That is, if, um. If you wanted to. You know. Go with me, or whatever."
No one would ever believe Blake, years later, if he told them the real story of how he'd ended up with his husband.
-END- | Sitheon recoiled back, his expression shifting from a bizarre mix of confusion and anger. "What trickery is this?"
"No trickery, only truth." replied Revanache, while he slowly rose from the cold floor with a slight limp.
"In all these years we've fought each other, all the people you've ever hurt or killed, to stop you, has become my life's goal. In fact it's quite ironic how-"
"Please!" Sitheon shouted, silencing a confused Revanache.
"Spare me the sanctimony of how you're 'bound by your sacred oath' and 'you're destined to stop me'. I'd prefer you didn't bore me to death before my time comes."
Sitheons face contorted to a ugly smirk of ego and admiration. "I must admit" He chuckled.
"I'm proud in a way. So many tried, and yet so many failed, but you? You just kept trying." He remarked.
"I had this strange feeling that we were destined to do this forever you know. For every maniacal plot I concocted, you'd find a solution for it. For every weapon I crafted, you'd disarm it. For every plague I synthesised, you'd cure it."
It is often stated that irony and paradoxes are completely separate, and yet Revanache and Sitheon felt as though the two had truly become intertwined in their roles, quite like themselves. The machine then let out a whirring sound in the air, like a train arriving at it's station.
Sitheon gasped in pain, his body falling to the ground, weakened and slightly limp, whilst Revanache stumbled to try support his weight to the floor.
"It's starting." said Sitheon. Revanache looked towards the machine in anger and then to Sitheon.
"How do I stop it? I've put an end to your plots before, I can end this one too. Tell me how!" he shouted urgently.
"Not this time." he replied whilst letting out a wheezy snicker.
"Although... I think at least I'm entitled to... one thing... Answer me this."
Revanache looked on in puzzlement and intrigue.
Sitheon let out a hacking cough, before uttering:
"Why... Why me? The things I've done, the people I've killed, why me?"
"Because without you I have no purpose. We are bound by the paradox that pits us against each other. And yet... I should've, I could've done more to break free of that. I should've saved you, I could've saved you. I'm sorry."
Sitheons face shifted to a mournful scorn of regret, angst, but then slowly to a cocky smile before he then let out a raspy cackle.
"...Sanctimonious till the end." he humorously retorted. Sitheons body slowly became limp, his eyes grew cold and empty, and he was no more.
Revanache had won. The man who had waged wars on thousands upon thousands of people. Who had slaughtered countless innocents, was no more. And yet, Revanache had felt as though he had still lost.
In the end, Sitheons death had come through a strange form of irony. For his whole life, he had cast off love as one of the most pitiful weaknesses, a heavy weight that stopped ones self from achieving true perfection and purpose. Revanache then stood up and looked upon his arch-nemesis's lifeless body, a smile still engrained on his face.
True to Sitheons word, Revanache felt as though he was at least responsible for putting Sitheon to rest. A short while passed as he gathered resources, placing Sitheon on the pedestal, he then set fire to the platform. The sparks and flames dancing with a jittery mania.
Revanache looked up towards the sky, and began to walk away, after uttering a final eulogy.
**"Until we meet again, Brother."** | 2021-03-19T14:35:34 | 2021-03-19T11:04:44 | 203 | 100 |
[WP] Magic is mundane in your world. Not that you ever cared about it; you were an auto mechanic like your father. But you're not sure what to do after one of your best customers raises you from the dead because you're the only one he trusts with his antique cars. | "It worked! You're alive! Listen. I know you were enjoying your rest, and I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but I must ask you. Will you please come fix my babies?"
I'm looking at my hands. The corrupted, rotten flesh of what used to be my hands is slowly repairing itself. I feel air coming through my cheeks, but less is coming through with each breath. As my eyesight returns to greater clarity, I notice I'm in a surprisingly well-preserved checkered suit, and stinky liquids are being forced out. Likely the embalming fluids.
"You brought me back to life and restored my youth... why?"
"You are the only one who I trust to fix up my antique Oldsmobiles."
"What year is it?"
"1956."
"No. I mean what year is it? Now. How long have I been dead?"
"3306. Looks like you were buried in 2025."
I look up to see a few space ships fly overhead. Heh. Guess tech beat out magic. I chuckle internally.
"Wow... Uh... What was your name again? My memory is foggy."
"It would be. You've been dead 1011 years and some change. My name is Aradell. I bought my cars from your old dealership all the way back in 1955."
"And you want me to fix them over 1300 years or whatever after you bought them... because...?"
"Metal restoration spells can only do so much. I went driving one day and the poor thing died at a red light. I was crushed! I took such good care of it after you had died. All the parts are original, save for a few that I had a friend help me fix. Ignition coil and radiator fans are the only parts that are brand new. I want to drive it again, but I fear no mechanic now knows of the ways old engines work."
"Fine. Get me out of this six foot hole. I'll take a look at it." | "Antique cars require antique men," Billy Simpson boomed.
The sound shook me and I had to brush away the mud on my shoulders to not let the old bastard on the fact that he had succeeded in startling me.
"That's not quite right," I said. "Antique cars require a lot of things, but not antique men."
"But that's it. That's it. You know exactly what the antique cars need!"
"I think you don't understand me. I am an antique man. I do not wish to fix any more cars, thank you very much."
Old Billy scratched the shiny bald patch on his enormous head. "But...you must."
"Why? Even as a ghoul I am a free man."
"Free you may be, but what else will you do? What else have you ever done?"
Since the moment I had been revived I knew that such a thing would happen. Old Billy always was good with silly arguments. No matter how accurate.
"I will do something new. Maybe I'll paint."
The old coot laughed. "You'll paint?" He laughed again. "You're a ghoul. Your brain isn't plastic."
The bastard got me again. Old Billy always was a frustrating man, no wonder he tore his own hair out, or maybe his wife did.
"I don't care. I'll do anything except this repair job on your old beetle."
"You're a strange man...I mean ghoul. Why do you have to be like this? Wasn't I good to you? We were pals, remember?"
"Yeah? Well that was before I died."
"It's only a minor complication. I know plenty of people who've befriended ghouls."
"What if I eat you?"
"It would be a pleasure."
Pleasure? Old Billy is a hard man to pin down in an argument, but I can't eat him. He ain't lying. We were pals. He did treat me very well.
"I just can't. All these years of repairing cars, you realize if I end up being one of the undead ones, I could be doing this forever."
"Oh come on. Being one of the undead ghouls is like a one in a million thing."
"Bad enough to make this illegal!"
"No law can hold me from my dear friend."
"Dear friend? You just couldn't find a mechanic is all."
"Yeah, well what if I couldn't? Is it wrong for me to enjoy the rest of my life? Do I not deserve that?"
Old Billy up to his old tricks. Emotional pleas. It's true what they say, you know, about being cold-hearted. A cold heart really don't feel nothing. No emotions, just a sea of unrelenting calm.
"Are you happy? Nowadays?"
Old Billy flinched. "Yes, of course. Now that I see you moving from past the grave and all."
"Good," I said and pinned him down. "Now, Billy boy. You can die happy. Happy till the last. Aren't you delighted to be my first meal?"
The Old bastard's fleshy face jerked from left to right.
"But you said so yourself, it would be a pleasure. I hope it is."
Sometimes, you need to give your friends what they need, not what they want. That's life.
Life after death. | 2021-03-26T08:38:30 | 2021-03-26T08:25:19 | 111 | 28 |
[WP] "Wait, I'm still confused... if both of you are part of some hive mind, WHY would you need me for marriage counseling?" The young couple exchanged glances, before one of them spoke. "Because we're in two SEPARATE hive minds."
Edit: THANK YOU for all the upvotes!
Edit again: Holy cow I never thought I would get to the top of the Hot section! Thank you! | The two beings that sat in my office looked, to all the world, like humans.
It was understandable that I hadn't figured it out sooner, though I should have looked over their intake forms in a bit more detail. After all, this was exactly the type of thing that they were meant to catch.
But now I had my clients, and I had a problem.
"So in the past when either of you referred to work schedules, it would be accurate to say those work schedules were related to your hiveminds," I proposed.
They nodded, clearly wondering if I was dodging the subject somehow.
"It sounds to me like you two met, became involved, and married with the blessings of your respective hiveminds?"
Again, they nodded, but more firmly.
"So a lot of your conflicts, I think could come down to your hiveminds treating you as available resources, when you need to be reassigned to diplomatic roles. If you are running off to repair a ship that has just come in, then you can't sit down and talk about why you're uncomfortable about something she did," I told the male, who bit his lip a little before reaching out and taking her hand, nodding again.
"And if you are a fully fledged spy for your hivemind, then you can't be honest with him about what you are doing, and why you need him to do certain things," I pointed out to her.
She reluctantly agreed, frowning a little.
"I'm not a spy, I'm a covert operative, they are different."
"I apologize," I said with a gracious nod. "I'll do better at differentiating in the future. But I think that you need to change your roles slightly in your hives, to allow for this relationship to flourish. Then, with the support of your hives, we could talk about the core issues you are struggling with." | Dom blew on his nails and polished them on his sleeve, he knew it was a bad idea, but Stacy insisted. Oh, poor Stacy, young, naive, still prone to the quackery of these pseudo-doctors, what would he do with her. Dom's mind switched from the polish of his nails to the woman sitting beside him.
"So, Mr. Mandel-"
"Please, John would do," the stocky old marriage counselor said.
"Oh, okay, John, so you can see he's just not very involved in things I want to do. He's always off somewhere with him and his boys, or whatever. And I don't know what to do. We used to have such great chemistry, Mr.-, John," Stacy said.
John, the counselor, now turned his attention towards Dom.
"What would you say to that? Do you feel her complaints are fair?"
Dom peered into the fleshy face of the counselor. The face, he thought, was rather lively and docile at the same time. He decided to be nice to the poor man.
"Well, maybe I do overdo it some of the time. I guess she's right."
Dom stole a glance at Stacy, her attention was fully directed towards the counselor as if he knew all the secrets of mankind.
"Ah, I see we're getting somewhere," John said and leaned back in his chair. "Mrs. Bates, what time do you think can be negotiated by you? I mean how much would you like to see your husband, so you can make it work."
Dom sighed as a self-satisfied smile crept across the counselor's face.
"I don't know. Ten hours a week, maybe. Yeah, that should do it just fine, I think," Stacy said. "I don't want him to lose his friends, you know-"
"Like hell you don't," Dom said. "God knows that's all you ever talk about."
Stacy's face flushed scarlet and her nostrils flared in response. She took a hand off the armrest and clutched her hair.
The counselor leaned forward. "Easy now. This is a space where we let each other know exactly what you feel about them, easy, no need for unnecessary drama," he said.
Dom glanced at the therapist and took a deep breath. He was determined to not let the counselor get any juicy stories from him.
"It's all right, Mr.- whatever, we're just part of a hive mind," Dom said.
"But, if both of you are part of some hive mind, why would you need me for marriage counseling?" John asked.
"Because...we're part of different...different hive minds," Stacy said, her voice quivering.
"Well, well, well. We've gotten off to a bad start, but there are still things we can do. We can-"
Dom didn't hear what they could do. He stormed out of the place. Stacy's muffled wails followed him from the other side of the door. She'll come to, he thought. Marriage counseling, what bullshit. | 2021-04-24T10:35:37 | 2021-04-24T09:05:12 | 119 | 23 |
[WP] “Y-you! How did you get past all of the evil empresses death traps and mazes?!” “Evil empresses? I’m just bringing my wife some lunch. Who are you?” | The black-robed figure froze. “Y-you! How did you get past all of the evil empress's death traps and mazes?!”
I rubbed my chin. “Evil empress? I’m just bringing my wife some lunch. Who are you?”
"Norgol, the Lacerator."
"...right. And, hang on, did you say *empress's*, like, belonging to an empress, or *empresses*, like, multiple female leaders?"
Beneath the hood I saw Norman or whoever he was scowl. Friendly guy.
"Anyway, like I said, I need to get this to my wife before the tuna melt gets cold, so..."
Norman stretches his fingers toward me and begins chanting, guttural and harsh. Green energy flashes towards me, then a giant purple disc appears in between it and me, causing it to rebound on the robed figure. His hands went to the sides of his head and he screamed loudly before collapsing to his knees.
I scratched my nose. Then I walked around him.
I entered a large room where my wife stood, an ebon dagger gleaming in her upraised hand. "Hi hon," I said as she brought it down on...
...my brain fuzzed over. It's been happening to me a lot lately. Oh well.
"Babe!" she said, with one of her amazing wicked grins. "So good to see you." She wiped something off her face...maybe paint?
I walk over to her and hand her the paper-wrapped packet. "You know, your office chair doesn't look very ergonomic. That rigid back has got to be killing you. Can I get you an Aeron chair?"
She looked over her shoulder at the black chair with the skulls adorning the arms. I blinked, then shook my head. Not skulls. Why would I say skulls? I chuckled.
"Babe," she cooed, "are you having another one of your spells?"
I swallowed, then gave a dejected nod. "Here," she said, producing a crystal decanter. "Have some of your medicine. You'll feel better soon, I'm sure."
I downed the contents of the decanter and smiled at her. I'm so lucky she's in my life. | ...A conversation breaks the dull silence around me.
"-am surprised you captured a hero during your first week. Many of my minions have yet to perform such a feat. Did you catch their name?"
"No, my lady. She was subdued by me and my men before she even drew a blade."
"Interesting. Well, let's make this quick. I'm expecting someone, and I would really hate to keep them waiting."
The door into the dungeon opens, and the large demon man walks in first, tall and proud.
"She is more nimble than she may appear, your grace. She slipped past every trap - She made it into the grand hall before she was captured. Be wary. She may have a trick up her sleeve."
"Mm. Curious. Where is..."
I wave, rattling my chains noisily. "Hi Lily..!"
Lilith Doomweaver, dark empress of the Thoroban empire spins in place, turning to face me. I smile a little. She looks pissed.
*Good.*
The demon marches closer to me, clearly upset with my lack of decorum.
"Silence, wretch! You will show respect to-"
"**Dulmar.** Release the prisoner."
"M-My lady?! She-"
"***NOW.***"
The demon man shambles to my cell with a look of utter confusion in his eyes, but follows his orders. He removes the chains tethering me to the stone wall, and the horribly uncomfortable shackles around my legs.
"...Dulmar, I'd like you to meet my GUEST. Stephanie Redbrooke. That is to say, my WIFE."
I smile, a tinge of red flooding my cheeks as I dust myself off, standing up.
The demon looks mortified, to say the least.
"I like it when you call me your wife. It sounds so official."
Lilith rolls her eyes, appraising me. "...What did they do to you? Are you okay?"
"Uh-huh. Little sore, but I'm fine. I'm *starving*, though. And the bread I baked for us probably got cold sitting over there in my basket. Sorry... This place doesn't have good insulation..."
"...Don't say sorry, you idiot. It's not your - Gods above, is that blood?!"
"Just a little. I think he broke my nose or something trying to knock me to the ground..." I mumble, tentatively touching the tender spot on my face.
"He did **WHAT**?"
I smile weakly, trying to change topic.
"Darling? I know you're probably thinking about punishments or executions or whatever, but can we pleeease wait on those? I'd like to eat with you. And I can show you a new spell I learned from that book you gave me!"
She closes her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.
"...Fine. But let's get you cleaned up first. **DULMAR**."
The demon man freezes by the doorway he'd been slowly inching towards.
"...Your merciful majesty?"
"*Cute*. I'm not merciful. I'm BUSY. Get the servants to prepare a bath. And don't think for a moment you can hide. We will be...*discussing* this, at a later time. Go."
The demon marches out of the dungeon, clearly not as proud as he was a few minutes ago. | 2021-09-08T13:07:44 | 2021-09-08T09:55:03 | 588 | 319 |
[WP] Your hand rests on the door to the apartment you share with your fiancé. You absolutely know tonight is going to be bad. You know she is one of the world's elite superheroes and she knows you are the world's greatest super villain. Both of your secrets held till just an hour ago. | Son of a bitch I’m going to die. She saw the mask fall off, she saw my face, she’s going to kill me. I mean she’s tried to before but that’s because she didn’t know. I rise slowly on the elevator. God this is taking so long can I just get this over with. The doors open to the dull beige hallway, the ugly blue carpet seems like a mockery to the rest of the building. I walk towards our room, I think to myself we just got this place we could have been happy here. I reach the door and pull the handle. Damn it’s locked, I reach for my keys forgetting I lost them downtown during the fight. I try breaking it down when I hear something, some kind of whistling, when from the opposite end of the building a wall shatters open, a blur blasts towards me, I slam into the wall my vision blurry.
“YOU LYING CUNT” Katlyn stands there fully in costume hovering in the air, the purple suit highlighting her golden hair.
“Hey Kate” I inch up gripping the wall for support, I may have super strength but that blow hurt like hell.
Kate starts again “You son of a bitch, were you going to tell me”
No I wasn’t but that would get me killed.
“Yes of course I was going to tell you, I was planning on waiting till we got engaged or married.”
She turned red, we hadn’t discussed marriage before, so I probably shouldn’t have brought it up. She’s dead faced, I honestly can’t tell if she’s furious or ecstatic. I found out pretty soon though.
“Marriage, marriage! you’re a fucking criminal, you’ve almost killed me countless times!”
“No I didn’t, I always made sure you were never too hurt.”
TOO HURT! 45 MINUTES AGO YOU THREW ME THROUGH A FUCKING BUILDING!”
Fuck I did do that didn’t I, I was right on the money, she’s going to kill me. | I watched the door open, and I was LIVID! She lied about being a banker at prestigious bank, she lied about how much she made, she lied about her injuries, she lied about EVERYTHING! But I have an act to sell, so did my damndest to keep a straight face.
"Hi honey, how was your evening?" I asked, listening to her grumble in frustration.
"Don't pull that 'hi honey' crap on me, Jared! I know you know the truth!" She yelled out in anger.
"Well sorry for trying to at least calm us both down so we could have a reasonable talk about this, but no!" My hands curled into a ball before lighting ablaze, "You just HAD to come home and get pissy with what is essentially the voice of reason, huh!?"
"You think I WANTED you to find out about what I did?! Because if you found out, you'd hold it against me every chance you could for your deplorable sense of justice..!" She had a phantasmal hand pin me to the wall, "And if I had known you were Solar Fury sooner, I'd have killed you on the spot!"
I didn't bother try and struggle my way out of her grip. I knew it was next to impossible, "Celina, please. You speak too harshly of me. I'm no despicable hero like the rest of them. I had only recently discovered you were The Masked Fear, and even if I did, my decision would remain the same: to talk to you about it like a civilized person," I knew what I was saying was pissing her off, but I didn't care, "But the fact you seem to think that I would stoop to your level disappoints me! Shame on me for even daring to think you'd be willing to listen or understand..."
She had her phantasmal hand let go of me, before sitting down on the couch, "Fine, I'll listen..!"
"A bit late for that, seeing how you yelled at me, belittled me, and tried to kill me just two months before our wedding," I got up, grabbed my suitcase, and stuffed my superhero suit in it, before lighting it on fire, surprising her, "After all, you made it abundantly clear you want nothing to do with me anymore, so I'm going to oblige your wishes, by completely cutting ties with EVERYTHING, both personal and work-based," Hearing me say that, surprised, and more reasonably, scared her. She knew I was serious about this, because she saw me also put the engagement ring inside the suitcase.
"Wait, you idiot!" She grabbed my shoulder with one of her phantom hands, "You know I'm emotionally unstable, and doing this might lead to me unintentionally levelling the entire city!"
"Well if you do that, it'll at least bring me comfort knowing one of us did our jobs right for once," I grabbed a spare set of clothes and walked towards the front door, "Now then, I believe this is our final farewell," And with that I opened the front door and quietly left, intending to leave the city behind me without regret, but knowing her, she wasn't the type to ever leave me alone, even when something was set and done... And especially when it didn't end happily.
\[End.\] | 2021-11-09T07:48:26 | 2021-11-09T04:35:56 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] You have time-travelled back to the dark ages. You enter a church and you become scared when your phone alarm goes off. Only for the priest to say. “Please guys we’ve talked about this, phones off or on silent.” | I blinked at them. Phones on silent?! This was supposed to be a 1300's monastery, not some modern establishment.
"You look confused. What part of silent do you not understand? Are people so rude in the future as to interrupt mass like that? I should call you a blasphemer!"
I hastily took my phone out and did as the priest, a balding man who looked in his mid 60s, said. The call was from my crew, guess they'd have to wait... My brows then furrowed. "How? You shouldn't know anything of modern technology much lessa a-a phone! I um...."
The priest looked at me with an all knowing stare that bore down right on my very damnded soul. "We are the order of the box, brothers in learning about futures to come and pasts before us. Why, you're part of the same order only under a different name..Now sit down so I can finish mass... You're making it most difficult to continue."
"But- what do you mean by that?!" I wasn't trying to burst out with my multitude of probing questions but my crew would need to know every detail. "We can't be the same. You're a monk, I'm an aethist!"
"Child, must I send a report to your commander? And if you wish for more information, go research your history books in your library." He turned the page of presumably a bible and started back up with mass. I had no choice but to sit down and listen. _What have I gotten myself into?_
Edit: forgot a word. | I haven't written a prompt before, so bear with me here please...
***
I thought I was lucky enough to escape from those crazy villagers. It's unbearable when the whole population is trying to requite unsuspecting folks into their innocent looking cult. With every person shoving a form into your face at every turn, it becomes infuriating.
*"Onii-chan, where are you...?"* As the voice of the little girl grow fainter each step, away from the church walls, I feel a cold shiver slowly creep down my back. I knew visiting this onsen area was a bad idea, as my friend warned me, but I just can't pass up the opportunity to take a break and explore how it feels to take an open bath. I've never been to an onsen before, so you can't blame me for that!
**COOOKAAAAADOOODLLLLLDOOOOOO~~~~!!!!**
SHIT.
I just realized that hiding in a church isn't the smartest thing to do in order to hide from church fanatics.
*"Please guys we've talked about this, phones off or on silent"*
Huh? Wait, did I hear that correctly? Did my ears go bad?
**COOOKAAAAADOOODLLLLLDOOOOOO~~~~!!!!**
*"DUDE, phones off or on silent!"*
AAAHHHHH GOTTA TURN THIS SHIT OFF
F it, I'll just throw this stupid phone away before it attracts even more attention.
I knew it, coming to this place is the worst decision I've ever made! Being lucky enough to find the phone that teleports me into the past was lucky enough, but running into church fanatics really flipped the benefits around.
Ah.
I see the priest walking towards me now. Oh no, why is he holding a piece of paper?
*"Welcome to our humble church, I see that you seem to be new here. Would you like a short introduction to our facilities? But first, here. Sign this form, as I continue my explanations."*
Ok, I see him giving me instructions now, but why?
GODDAMN IT!
>!WHY IS IT ALWAYS THE AXIS ORDER?!!<
***
If ya get the reference, then great! If not, hopefully [this form can help you](https://i.imgur.com/OvgOiaN.jpg), or [this starter website should get you familiar with the practice](https://axiscult.zmcx16.moe/).
Jokes aside, I found it kinda difficult to tie my reference to something more theatrical along with the plot. As mentioned in the beginning, this is my first forage into writing prompts, so please point out my mistakes and feedbacks are welcome! | 2021-12-02T01:29:48 | 2021-12-02T00:11:59 | 402 | 70 |
[WP] "As payment, I demand your firstborn!" the demon said. "Deal!" You said, hastily signing the contract to seal the deal. "Good luck with them, sucker!" | "So, you want my firstborn. The first child I carried and bore. The one over there. That's the price? I give him to you, and I get wealth and power?"
"YES."
"And what happens to him afterwards is none of my business or concern?"
"YES"
"Deal. Do I need to sign something?"
"BEHOLD. SIGN HERE. AT THE TERMINUS. IN BLOOD."
"Kinky. Lemme nick my finger . . . done."
"THE TRANSACTION IS COMPLETE. WE WILL TAKE THE BOY NOW. YOU WILL NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN."
"I'm not sure about that. His father is supposed to have him next weekend."
"WE CARE NOTHING FOR YOUR ARRANGEMENTS. THEY ARE MOOT. THE BOY IS OURS NOW."
"Well, I've got my money and power, which is what I wanted. Bye!"
\* \* \*
I went on a bit of a shopping spree after that. New clothes, some new furniture, a TV, and a brand-new gaming rig that I put in my son's room. Former room, I guess. Also a bottle of 21-year-old single-malt scotch, which I put aside for later.
Sunday night, I was relaxing in my new overstuffed recliner, watching Omar testify against Bird and enjoying some of that scotch, when the room burst into flame and smoke and a horned figure unveiled himself from behind leathery wings. Sighing, I put my glass atop a coaster on the new end table.
"You don't really need to do that."
"DAMNIT, JANET. YOU CANNOT SELL OUR SON."
"I didn't ask to birth the Antichrist. I was rather staunchly against the idea, if you'll recall."
"IT DOESN'T MATTER. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH *TROUBLE* HE CAUSED DOWN THERE?"
"Isn't that the idea? Causing chaos, upsetting the established order, bringing about the End Times?"
"YES, BUT NOT IN **MY** DAMNED KINGDOM!"
"If you paid child support, I wouldn't need to pull that kind of swindle. You should probably tell those arrogant morons you've got working for you to check the kid's full parentage before signing one of their deals. "
"*THAT* DEMON WILL BE MAKING NO FURTHER DEALS. EVER"
"Aww, too bad. I liked him. So anyway, anything I need to know about?"
"NO. I RETURN DAMIEN TO YOUR CUSTODY. HE IS GROUNDED FOR THE NEXT WEEK. HE KNOWS WHAT HE DID."
"Sure, no problem."
\* \* \*
The flame and smoke vanished without a trace, and I stuck my head into Damien's room.
"How was your trip to Hell?"
"C'mon, Mom. You know you're not supposed to do that."
"I know, I know. But you were heading there anyway, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity. I got you something."
"I saw, and it's nice, but Dad says I'm grounded."
"Yes, and I'll expect you to abide that. But you should at least fire up the rig and see how it works. Bedtime is still 9:30."
"Thanks, Mom! You're the best!"
"Good night, son. I love you."
"I love you too, Mom."
The good thing about single-malt scotch is that there's no ice to melt, so my drink was still waiting for me when I got back to my show. Omar's got the shotgun, Levy's got the briefcase, and I have the world's most unwieldy custody arrangement, but it's all in the game, right? | Lying has its merits; so, too, does being able to bend the truth and save the true falsehoods for those who deserved them. Discerning who deserved which — if either — had always been a skill I’d employed with ease. My therapist as yet has yet to form an opinion on whether my beliefs on this matter are attributable to growing up with a sociopathic narcissist of a father — when he was around — or to being born the eldest daughter of an absentee mother who happened to be a skinwalker (if you don’t know, you don’t know … and probably if you don’t know, you don’t want to know). But, I’m damn good at manipulating humans — and assorted others — if necessary, and the truth is, I really, truly wanted that stallion. Didn’t matter a bit to me if he was owned by a human, fae, or demon: that stallion was coming home with me.
It began when I drove a new route to the feed store, a longer trip but one that let me avoid potential rush hour traffic (it’s the middle of nowhere, Arizona, but still, it’s the principle of the thing). The Thompson homestead, crumbling slowly as long as I’d known it to exist which was pretty much as long as I’ve existed, seemed different. Once I was close, I felt the energy — not that of David Dunker, the new owner of the property, but a strong, flowing, instinct-driven spirit-energy that felt familiar, signaling to me that either this was a horse who’d sired a horse I knew — or was one hell of a cutting horse. You probably haven’t often given much thought to the offspring of skinwalkers, but we (and, I do mean “we” in the plural sense) are “people” just like anyone else, human or not, we have our shortcomings and our opinions, the things that make us unique from one another, make us happy, and so forth. What makes me happy is not what would have made either my mother or my father happy; instead, what makes me happy is living on my ranch with my cats, dogs, cattle, and horses — and raising some damned fine cutting horses. God knows I’ve had plenty of years to cross various lines and see what happens.
The energy grew stronger and, not fearing much on either a mundane or supernatural level, I turned the truck into the gravel-spattered dust that served as the old homesteaders’ drive, and slowly rolled to a stop then looked around the place at what had been changed.
The old adobe outbuildings were gone or knocked to the ground, and the old barbed wire fencelines that outlined the property lines had vanished, and in their place stood the beginnings of one of those new wood-look steel plank fences.
The click of the shotgun behind my head didn’t phase me (for reasons you can likely guess); but, I felt that action rather uncalled for, and as I lifted a hand in appeasement or whatever rancher or rancher-lite’s wrath I’d incurred, I heard the voice not out loud, but in my head. “Crap,” I thought. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with humans that day, let alone anything else.
“You came here for the horse, yes?” The monotones, unspoken voice had a nasal quality that irked me.
“You know I did, why ask?” I didn’t even turn to face him as I replied.
“You may have the horse. For a price.”
Throughly unimpressed, I flipped around to face the other standing behind me. Speaking in English, I stared at him and let a bit of the yellow shine touch my eyes, “I’m not playing this game with you. What do you want for the horse?”
He thought a moment, and his life’s history clearly played out in my mind, unbidden; like so many other demons, this one — “David Dunker,” or so was the identity he’d assumed — lived a life in which he feared humanity more than it would ever fear him. Had I been so inclined, perhaps I’d have pitied him.
“As payment, I demand your firstborn!”
A week later, I pulled up to David’s front gate with my trailer hitched to my truck, and waited as the gate opened, the switch flipped by someone unseen. One by one, each of his four horses was loaded by my staff onto the trailer while I walked toward the house. Abby was already walking toward me. “We’ve got a lot of planning to do on this one,” she said with a grin.
She looked like me, but then again, she also favored her father — and she was right. We had plenty to do. She and her husband would be moving onto this land in less than a week.
Demons ought to consider who they’re dealing with … who knows, maybe this time, they’ve encountered the being that results when a skin walker’s daughter falls in love with an Angel: a shape-shifting Angel whose very presence can destroy that demon, but an Angel who doesn’t mind cleaning up the evidence afterward, so to speak. | 2022-08-31T20:13:58 | 2022-08-31T16:07:39 | 134 | 61 |
[WP] The Orion arm hypergates collapsed eons ago, leaving humanity in the rest of the galaxy as wanderers. Earth has become stuff of legends, adventurous humans sometimes setting out to find the nigh-mythical homeworld and the old human empire. | 1,345 years ago, The Sol Empire signed a Declaration of War against the Galatic Community (GC), which had instated many trade and military embargos on the Empire because of its vast and quick growth. This started a seven-year campaign now aptly named the Conquest Wars. With the use of OAH-Gates, Hypergates of human Origin, the Empire was able to spread its reach vastly, taking over 100 systems and three countries in the first two years of the Campaign. The Empire maintained a steady growth of control over the galaxy as the entire GC struggled to push them back.
But, like all Empires, it grew too big, its armies spread too thin, and the threat of bankruptcy looming over it. The GC began pushing back, reclaiming systems, and destroying main Imperial Bastions. Fearing inevitable destruction, The Empire pulled back as much of its forces as it could, and shut down the entire OAH Network, cutting itself off from the entire Galaxy while also crippling the Entire GC. Without the OAH-Gates, what would take hours to get from one system to a neighboring system, would now take days, even months. That didn’t stop the GC though, still fighting against the remaining bastions of the Empire. This then started the Reclamation War, with most of the Galactic Community uniting under one federation, naming themselves the Nations of Allied Interests (N.A.I.). In 4 years, they reclaimed all that was lost, with any remaining communities of Humans being either captured as POWs, slaves, or escaping into the galaxy.
1,334 years later, humans are now mostly nomads left forgotten by their homeworld, trying to survive. The idea of Earth, let alone a homeworld for humans has been long forgotten. Most of GC think that the Empire fell shortly after it cut itself off from the entire galaxy, some think that once it fell the Homeworld of the humans went to war with itself and destroyed the planet while doing so. The GC was never able to recover from the shutdown of the OAH-Gate Network, trying and failing to either bring it back or create its own.
Humans now travel in communes, from system to system, while others try to break out of the mold of only manual labor. And then, there are the small few, who travel the galaxy searching for their home, stopping from system to system, doing whatever they have to go home. By most of the GC, they are looked down, and will often be shot on sight, not wanting the possible reconstruction of another Empire, and think they should appreciate what they have. Most humans think so too, fearing the repercussions from the GC if they were to find a home. But some believe, and hope, that their Earth is still out there. The name commonly given to the Humans that search for Earth is Soljurns.
(I wrote lore instead, lol. I might write a short story later, just really wanted to do some lore for an interesting Promt) | The ship's damage alarm blared, and the red lights strobed their displeasure. The crew moved at a sluggish pace to try and find the damage. Or if there even was damage to begin with.
"My bet's on the automatic dish washer." An engineer, Chris, said.
"Nah. Definitely that one wire in C-12." Jason, another member of the engineer staff replied.
Those listening nodded. He did not need to say which wire. They all knew that wire. They all hated that wire. The team went through the corridors, running their routine check for whatever "emergency" the computer thought they had.
The alarm shut off as abruptly as it started. They did not know whether the other team found the problem, or if the ship AI decided it did not, in fact, have a problem. None of them cared either. They simply walked off to resume normal duties.
"Why are we even out here?" Jason asked.
"Oh, you know, the usual. Fame and fortune under the guise of historical discovery and cultural heritage." Chris replied.
Jason grumbled. "Could've fooled me. Seems more like Capt. Walters needed an excuse to off himself and decided to take a bunch of randos with him."
"Gee, what makes you say that?" Chris said with a voice laden with sarcasm thick enough to puncture the hull. Jason was not in the mood to understand that.
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's the fact that we're out in the ass end of the galaxy, in a ship that barely works, looking for a planet that might not even exist."
Chris looked at his colleague with a dull look, but said nothing. The effect was lost on the other man. Instead, he grumbled and the two kept moving.
"Seriously, I'm still amazed our main propulsion method isn't a few guys in Walker suits pushing."
Chris snorted. "Careful Walters doesn't hear you. He might get some ideas."
The intercom came on and the Captain's voice came through. Thanks to the poor quality of the system, it occasionally cracked and the volume changed sporadically, but it worked.
"Attention crew, we've found an uninhabited planet with a viable atmosphere. We'll be landing there a bit of R&R and some planetside repairs. If you want to see where we're landing, I'm posting the feed now."
When the announcement ended, the two engineers shrugged and headed to the nearest screen. On it was a small blue-green planet. They could see a single moon in orbit and a thin, metallic ring. The ring was new for a planet that size, but it was otherwise unremarkable.
Chris squinted and tilted his head from side to side. He fiddler with the view screen, making it zoom in as much as it could.
"Hey, Jason?"
"Yeah?"
"Is it just me, or is there something weird about that ring?"
"Probably. I mean, it's weird that it has one considering the size, but weirder things have happened."
"No, I mean...I don't know. I can't really tell from here, but I swear I'm seeing something artificial there."
"Your eyes are playing tricks on you. It's still too far away to tell. Besides, what kind of intelligent species would let their space tech go to the point where it would ring up?"
"Yeah, I guess you're right. Hey, think there's anything cool on this planet?"
"Probably not. A bunch of plants and animals and not much else."
"Yeah, I guess. Hey, check if there're any others."
A few quick taps on the screen and some basic information came up.
"Eight planets, one or two dwarf planets. A few good gas giants that might have some good stuff, but that's about it. We're going for the third from the local star."
Chris sighed. "So, just another solar system like so many others."
"Looks like it."
"Darn. Well, maybe the next one will have something worth it."
Jason gave a short laugh. "If we make it to the next system."
Chris nodded his agreement and left the view screen. They had more important things to worry about than looking at a nameless planet out in the middle of nowhere. | 2022-11-18T11:20:03 | 2022-11-18T06:51:02 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] You're a 'comically incompetent' supervillain for a group of C-List heroes. They are no real threat to you, so you endure their childish speeches. However, when the heroes raid the civilian business you run on the side and injure your employees, you decide to take yourself seriously for once. | Man, comic ineptitude was fun! I just got to mess around and be overdramatic and goof off, plus I get to make a whole bunch of gizmos and gadgets with shiny red buttons on them. And I even get paid for it! What could be better!... Uh, well, I guess if I didn’t heal so well then it’d be a problem, but I do, so it’s fine.
Oh, I haven’t introduced myself. Hello! My name’s… basically impossible to pronounce, but to the super community I’m usually known as Elda. I’m one of those… whatchamacallits. What do you guys call them? Old Ones? Yeah, that’s it! Relations are a relative term when you exist in uncountable dimensions, but I know a bunch of the pop-culture ones you guys know of. And a bunch you don’t!
So, what’s metaphorically-little old me doing in the big city? Boredom, honestly. All my friends are sleeping for the next several millennia, but I’m awake because I was… well, the closest analogy you’d get is that I was born after they all fell asleep.
I went wandering and found all these little humans, and they’re really fun! Tons of them have super powers of some kind or other. So I went down and introduced myself! There was… a little bit of mixed communication and such, on account of an eldritch-to-humans being popping up, but we’re cool now!
Long, overdramatic story short, I’m a goofy supervillain now. My job is to sort of be the “small-time villain” for new superheroes to train on before they move onto the big leagues. Obviously, I’ve had a lot of practice with holding back and seeming like a near-normal person. Sure, I’ll appear out of the shadows every so often, but why wouldn’t I!? I was built for the stage! A stage that exists in like… many more dimensions than humans can perceive.
But yeah. I’m basically Dr. Doofenshmirtz. Heroes get experience, I get fun, and everyone wins!
In my spare time, I actually ran a cafe. One of the older heroes who helped me get grounded ran it in his off-time, so I helped when he wanted to do other stuff, like maybe mentoring. I ended up running the place more and more nowadays, which made me a little suspicious, but whatever. He’s a cool guy.
These heroes, though, these new ones, ooh did they make my blood boil! Hero work is supposed to be all fun and games! I have a dramatic monologue, they have some snappy one-liner about the power of friendship or whatever, I act offended or something, and then we duel with whatever is around the lair. They win some, I almost win others… It's fun that way.
But then there’s these new guys who… Hrm, what’s a good way to put it. You know how Batman is all edgy and broody? It’s kinda like that. Breaking jaws, getting to my lair hours before I’ve put the finishing touches on my super-device (aka my self-destructing machine), civilian collateral…
That last one always made me upset, way more than I thought it would when it first happened. Humans are kind of like cats. They can have little hissy fits, sometimes they are skittish, but they can be so nice! Even when they scratch you, it’s not because they hate you or anything.
These guys I wasn’t sure. They just were mean and such… for the sake of it. I asked one of them last time and they said something about their methods being “efficient.” That didn’t make any sense to me, since the definitions I knew about the word didn’t line up with their actions. | \[ParaSEC Target File, Threat Level: Low\]
* C-Class audiokinesis \[Looping and pitch. No evidence of volume control\]
* D-Class speedster abilities. \[Slightly faster run speed. Potential sensory acuity - further evidence required\]
* Target demonstrates propensity to use powers exclusively for show. All 'villainous' activity mundane in nature, possibly a publicity stunt. \[Officially denied by all contacted PR agencies. IntOps priority low - pursue only if convenient during other activities\]
\[End File\]
You know the problem with most villains?
Okay, trick question. There's no *one* problem with them, usually it's the egomania, or psychopathy, or the tunnel-vision. I used to say that they lacked flair, but some of them have a decent sense of drama with those capes. The real problem? They lack *fun.*
Not Jester's knife-wielding jack-in-the-box fun, but something that makes life genuinely enjoyable in itself. Sadism doesn't count. That's why I'm different, I'm not here to crush the world in my iron grasp, or to torture the world. I'm a villain for kicks.
Welcome to the world of DJ Dastardly.
Do you *know* how hard it is to give yourself a silly name as a villain? I had to fight *months* of media calling me things like 'Remix'. It's hard to scaremonger around someone with a silly name, they conveniently left out footage of my preferred moniker spraypainted everywhere for MONTHS. It was only once some kids posted it on social media that they were forced to give in. After that, I was Page 17 material at best.
I'm a heist-villain. Low level stuff- museums, science fairs, that one time I nabbed the mayor's statue at town hall. High visibility, low impact. That's my game, and my 'nemeses'... Well, let's just say the same goes for them too.
I've got a lot of respect for Eclipse Squad's PR team. It takes a creative mind to look at a human strobe light, a gothic fog machine, and a B-class telekinetic ("but DJ, she can fly!". She floats, and can make other things float. I'm shaking in my very fashionable boots) and give them some damn good branding.
So, here's the score (and believe me, I know scores)- You're somewhere public, but with oddly good acoustics. Someone takes a step, and it echoes a little bit too much. Then again. It starts looping- no one's walking anywhere, but now there's a tok-tok-tok of a 4/4 beat. I used to always have to say the name myself, but nowadays if I'm lucky someone else guesses first.
*DJ-DJ-DJ-DJ-DJ D-D-D-Dastardly!* (they only say it the once, the effect is all me).
From there, you're all part of the performance. Every step, noise, gasp, and laugh? It goes in the soundtrack. I'm a one-man-acapella/percussion looping pedal, and the audience? They're starting to like me. Turns out security guards find it really hard to focus when everything they do gets looped into a live performance. I'm there taking a bow at the item-du-jour, and Eclipse Squad roll in. Midnight's black fog blocks my camera angle, Moonlight *tries* to stun me with a flare (come on kid, *I'm in a cloud of black smoke, think about it*.), then Luna tries to knock me over the head with some slow-moving object. I throw them a bone "Damnit Eclipse Squad! You've foiled me again! But I'll be back for an encore!", and slip out the back.
All fun and games, honestly a great way to spend an afternoon, not to mention boost listens on my soundcloud! Until it got serious.
Turns out strobe-boy *moonlights* as a wannabe hacker (I'm not sorry). Tracked my IP to the little music studio I run. The one with the music program to keep delinquent kids off the streets.
They roll up in full-costume, see some kid that they'd knocked around for graffiti before and decide that this is DJ Dastardly's gang lair, and that the kids are my 'henchmen'. Eclipse Squad might be idiots, but as it turns out, when faced with blinding smoke and flashing lights, a lot of teenagers panic. Now imagine an enclosed space with a *bunch* of panicking teenagers who can't see.
3 concussions, one broken leg, 6 cases of PTSD. I'm just thankful Eva had detention, I don't want to know if Moonlight's power could've triggered her epilepsy.
I'm protective of my kids. They've had a bad run, and I was trying to show them a way *out* of the system. The injuries were one thing, but because they found a little weed on him, Jim's going back to juvie. That was the last straw. | 2022-11-29T11:44:03 | 2022-11-28T20:44:52 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] Quantum Physics responds when things are being observed. For some reason, the universe doesn't consider you to be an observer, and daily life can get pretty weird when no one is watching. | If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?
Sorta.
I was born with this... thing. I'm not an active observer in the eyes of the universe. I know, I know - it sounds ridiculous, but here's the brunt of it. Things only happen when there is an active observer of that given event... apparently. The countless scientists that have flocked around me since my birth keep saying things of that nature but I'll be damned if I understand them. Something about quantum physics. And since, for whatever reason, I do not count as an observer, I know what happens when things lie somewhere between happening and not happening. So, what is it?
It's weird. And it's beautiful.
I've flipped a coin when no one was around and called heads, tails, and falling on its edge. *I was correct*. I've heard Schrödinger's cat meow in that box, knowing it was and was not dead. I have unironically answered something with 'yesn't'. But most importantly, I've seen the cracks.
When things go unobserved long enough, these breaks start to form, almost as if reality was about to fracture. It's like glass that's been cracked and the rift is slowly expanding as you hear the creaking noise, knowing it can give at any moment. Every time it gets too big, someone or something comes along to observe it and - it was never there. Always wondered what would happen if one of those... broke. Truly and completely. Maybe one already has and I don't know it.
There's one behind your left ear right now, you know?
Oh, don't worry. Someone will come along soon enough. Or just use a mirror. You won't see it there. It will never have been there.
Anyway! I really should get going. Another round of tests back at the lab. Thanks for the coffee.
I'll be seeing you.
*Metaphorically speaking.* | "You don't know the capacity of your own imagination until your hallucinations become the only thing you have. It's all too easy when you're in prison, blindfolded, cuffed, and hanging from the air with earmuffs on, to see false images that are as pleasing as they are implausible. I just want to go back to the way it was in the days before I joined the Army. To see what's real instead of my imagination."
"Go on," my therapist said as she started jotting down notes. Her face was relaxed and she was smiling, as if I had just told her I was going to be her friend or something.
"You see, I don't see a street corner, or a jar, or busy passersby. I see a kingdom and I'm a wizard. I'm casting a spell that requires deep concentration, the passersby are my source of mana. When I complete the spell I'll gain another artifact to help me complete my quest."
"And what do you do with these artifacts?" she said inquisitively.
"I consume them in order to gain power. Each time I consume an artifact I gain more."
"I see. And when does the spell break? Like, when do you come back to reality?"
"I tend to come in and out. One minute I'll be stuck in my head and another I'll realize that I'm sitting on a street corner with a jar in my hand. Then I'll try my very hardest to go back because being there, in reality, is just... too painful. When I get in my head, it's kind of like, going to a different universe."
"Hmm," she paused, staring down at the notebook. "Have you considered that these trips into your head are a way to shield your mind from the hurt you endured while in prison?"
"Yeah."
"Have you considered trying hypnotherapy? It's been known to work on cases such as yours, and your sister has already agreed to pay."
"I don't know about that."
"If you want to try to help yourself come to terms with reality it's the best thing. Why not give it a shot?"
I felt a slight pulsing sensation in my head, and a moment later I saw the healer Cassandra in her purple robe, her scepter pointed at my head, telling me repeatedly not to misuse my powers or else I'd face the Tribunal or perhaps the King himself.
"Unfortunately, you must subject yourself to The Silencing," she said, "and only in that way will you wean yourself from the hallucinogenic dragon's blood."
"No!" I screamed, suddenly feeling the tightness of my robe against my skin. It was always weird to look down and see it after I'd been lost in the world where magic was done with electricity instead of mana and it wasn't OK for men to wear robes in public.
"Yes. Your trips have become too much. You've been reduced to nothing more than a common beggar. Please, take the Silencing and go home."
I jolted. "Matt?" the therapist said with concern, uncrossing her legs to make that she was ready to get up to assist me.
"Yeah, maybe hypnotherapy. I don't know."
"Why not? It could only help," she said with a smile again.
"I don't know. Maybe reality is all in my head."
/r/StoriesToThinkAbout | 2022-12-29T09:49:54 | 2022-12-29T09:19:43 | 161 | 62 |
[WP] In a future where everyone has electronic brain implants to make them smarter, you are the only student at a school without an implant due to a birth defect. You are a perfectly functional human being, but your parents, teachers, and classmates treat you like you're mentally handicapped. | Jordan had always felt like he was the only person on earth. Everyone was so accustomed to communicating non-verbally, directly sharing information between their networked minds. Sharing information the old, verbal way was just too cumbersome for them, so Jordan was never included in any discussions.
He had a late 21st-century style mobile phone. He could use it to follow along in class, but it was useless for social situations. Jordan's only friend was Gustav, the phone's AI.
Gustav was pretty smart for an AI that was designed 40 years ago, and he listened. Even his own mother seemed like she grew impatient waiting seconds for Jordan to complete a thought verbally. Gustav always had time for Jordan. Jordan always imagined that talking to Gustav was what talking to another person used to be like.
Several months ago Gustav told Jordan that NASA was predicting a massive solar storm to occur within the next year. Major disruptions to all electronic systems was expected. Jordan couldn't wait. Now people will have to talk to him.
Jordan was in chemistry class when solar storm struck earth. The lights and the video display in the room simultaneously going dark. He looked around at his classmates, looking forward to their dismay, hoping that the network they depended on for communication had also crashed. But there was nothing. Glazed over eyes, slack expressions, people began to slide out of their chairs as if they had suddenly fallen asleep. Some of them were bleeding through their noses. He checked the girl sitting next to him. Not breathing. Same with the next, and the next. Dead, all dead.
Checking the adjacent classrooms, he saw the same. The storm must have fried their brains. Running out of the school and down the street was only more of the same. Dead people on the sidewalks, in the stores, in the cars stopped dead in the street. All the vid displays were blank, the street lights were out. He quickly made his way home. Running, but not sure why, he already knew what he would find.
He had to smash a window to get in. The house's entry system was dead, as were his parents.
This was not what he had imagined. Now he truly was the only person on earth, or at least as near as he could tell. Not much had changed really, it was just him and Gustav, as it had always been.
He pulled out his phone.
"Gustav"
"Gustav..."
"Gustav?" | I could feel the line behind me starting to swell; not the way most people do, where they know there's someone behind them. My eyes only ever faced front. I could feel them though, in that way that makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck as their stares bury into your back. No one was in the booth this morning. There's always supposed to be someone in the booth. I know I'm the exception to the rule, but still, there's malfunctions. People sometimes need their ticket scanned manually.
The burning got brighter. I could feel it deeper, working its way to my core now. They stood silently, patiently. I knew they'd never do anything. They'd never actually yell at me. No matter how mad they got, their mood was being regulated. Tiny pieces of plastic kept the harmony. The delicate chemical balance never tipped towards anger. But I could feel them just the same. Their eyes, clicking and refocusing. Sending them a thousand different things about me every second. A retinal display told them how tall I was, guessed my weight. They could know if they really cared. They know the exact color of my jacket. Not red, or bright red. But the specific 10 digit code that corresponds to its exact shade of red. Its a color you can't even see with my baseline eyes. They can see the difference between my jacket and all the other red jackets in the whole world. They know more about it at a glance than I do.
"Ticket, son." I turned to the conductor, surprised at his sudden appearance, and gave him my ticket. He'd walked up in my blind spot. "Peripheral vision" the doctors call it. That's the limit to what I can see around me. He must have been "outside" it. If the people in line could get angry, they would have been bothered by it. Didn't he see him coming, they think. Why is he being so rude? No, at this point they know. I can feel their stares retracting. The burning in my back is cooling. They know I'm baseline. Stock. People aren't supposed to use that word anymore. When implants first came out, it was fine. People used it all the time. It's accurate. But now, no one is stock by choice. It's an affliction. A weak brain. I can't handle the extra electricity. I'd end up like one of the Burn Outs. Too many implants. The Doctors call it Icarus's Disease, but everyone else just calls them Burn Outs. Most of them die before the implants can be removed. Even then, most of them die anyways. They're the lucky ones. Living without implants is no life at all. They miss it. You know they do, too. They're supposed to go back to normal, but they don't. Sometimes, they sit under the charging stations all day. They shut off the shields and sit their all day. It's really bad for you, all that electricity at once. I asked one once, what he was doing. He said it "tickled". He said that he missed all of the voltage. His brain felt empty now. I got on the train and the line started to move. The burning was gone now, everyone knew it wasn't my fault. If they could be mad, they'd be mad at the conductor for not taking my ticket right away. But they can't be mad. I walked towards the back of the train. I liked the back. Everything was in front of me. For a few minutes, I was like everyone else. I could see everything I needed to. Not everything. But I could fake it well enough. | 2014-05-31T23:00:36 | 2014-05-31T22:48:30 | 90 | 30 |
[WP] You are a cannon fodder minion on the first floor of a dungeon, and have just killed the hero. You now have to explain to the boss that you just ruined his plan. | He didn't dare to believe his eyes as he stared down at the smoldering corpse of the hero at his feet. This was the vaunted hero? In rotted leather armor and bearing a chipped sword? Surely his Lord's carefully planned traps, expertly trained minions and artfully designed mazes gathered over these past 7 years since the hero prophecy was first spoken could not have been in vain? The lowly foot soldier tried to imagine having to explain what he had done, how he had ruined all those years of planning and preparation.
*"I'm so sorry my lord, the hero was pathetic! He thought he was armed with Prophecy and immortal. He just charged right in and all but leapt into the path of my weak and pathetic fire spell. I did not expect that to vanquish him!"*
*"You fool... 7 years! 7 YEARS!! No expense spared! I prepared for everything! EVERYTHING! How could you ruin this? How... how could you?"*
And as the lowly minion imagined the tears streaming down his Lord's face he knew what he must do. He stomped out the still smoldering bits of the hero's armor and removed it from his corpse. Donning the rotted leather over his own mail he dropped his expertly crafted sword in favour of the pitted rusted ruin the hero had brought. He needed to disguise his face. He might be the weakest of minions but he had spent 7 long years with these beings, they knew him as well as he knew them. He blackened his face with soot and cut his lengthy mane hastily with a dagger. Finally he searched for any other gear the hero had brought and found only a small amulet which he donned as well. Thus armed he turned away from the entrance headed deep into the dungeon.
Despite his weakness, he had stilled trained these 7 long years with the best of the other minions. He had helped prepare the traps, and had joined the construction crews on the mazes. Quite simply put, he knew every square inch of this dungeon and so forearmed with his knowledge he barreled into every trap barely avoiding death by the slimmest of margins. He knew all the weaknesses of each of his fellow minions but not even that could make up for his own weakness. Each battle was a terrible trial and by the time he made it through the last maze he was beaten and bruised horribly. Only his impeccable mail had saved him from serious injury. Thankfully his Lord had spared no expense.
"Foolish hero, I see you have bested my minions and navigated my dungeon but now you face my wrath! Puny human prepare yourself!" His Lord, not recognizing his minion, cried out in joy as the hero he had spent 7 long years preparing for finally stood before him.
*My Lord... this I do for you. I give my life so that these plans will not go to waste!* The weak minion thought to himself, but he knew that he couldn't give in too easily. His Lord had trained extensively himself and deserved the best fight possible. Gathering his courage the minion charged his Lord and gave his all. He fought with everything he had, barely avoiding death a hundred times at his Lord's hand. Finally, he could fight no more and his Lord stood over him, prepared to deal the final blow.
"Foolish hero, do you now understand my might?! You never stood a chance you fool!"
As his Lord gloated, the beaten minion could only nod his head in reply for fear of giving away his identity with his voice. It was then that a single drop of blood fell from his broken nose and landed squarely on the amulet he'd taken from the fallen hero. A brilliant light emanated from the amulet, blinding the minion and his Lord both. When the light faded the minion slowly rubbed his eyes, willing the spots to clear. He could only look on in horror at the smoking ruin where his Lord once stood, vanquished by the light of the amulet.
And so the prophecy was realized.
*7 years hence, the Dark Lord, after much preparation, will be vanquished by the weakest fool would be hero with the best of intentions."* | So here I am, a scrawny little goblin with a massive dick, standing in front of the Dark Lord Cockripper, the most evil genital mutilator to ever own a dark evil fortress. He is shouting at me so loud that I can feel the floor vibrating slightly and my ears are begging to pop so that the pain will dissipate. He is going on and on about how I ruined his massive, super-duper, evil fucking plan. Big whoop. I would say I did the Guy a favor, but instead of a promotion, or employee of the month, he is going to wrap his massive black hand around my giant sized goblin dick and pluck it from my body. But before I get into the gore, let me explain.
So I'm just sitting in the first level of Ol' Cockrippers dungeon with a few of my goblin buds. We are leaning up against a wall and sharpening our spears, getting ready for the start of a new day. Mostly, heroes try to avoid this place, but the other day one of our flying dickbirds spotted a dude in some shiny golden armor galloping towards our fortress on a shining white steed. We knew that this was probably going to end our employment, seeing as how the last time the base was invaded most of the goblins were torn limb from limb by a massive bear of a man who called himself King Powerblumpkin. Today, we found out that we were going to be slain by Prince Knobgobbler. Whether or not those are their real names, who the fuck knows? All we know is that Cockripper stole their princess or something and now we all get to suffer for it.
So here we are, three goblins and some shitty trap where spikes pop out of the floor and poke the hero for like a tenth of his health. The silence is klling us, but then it starts. The actual thing that will literally be killing us. We hear the front door slam open and the first line of goblins giving their best shrieks for battle. Then the sound of limbs being severed. Then silence.
Clunk, clunk, clunk, clunk.
The even steps of a giant armored god coming to release us our souls from our bodies. Maybe next time I'll come back as a fireball flinging demon skeleton. Who knows, I'm optimistic for being such an evil guy.
So anyways, this big dude rounds the corner and faces us with the most ridiculous look I have ever gotten from another living thing. He actually thinks that he is ending us once and for all and saving the realm and all of that fantasy bullshit. Well come and get it!
Prince Pussyfart starts to sprint down the hallway, his sword brandished over his head like a retarded samurai. All of the sudden, he steps on the spike trap, and it gets him! He falls flat on his face and his sword skitters across the stone floor, sounding like a penny bouncing down a hill. At first, we are scared shitless; not a clue what to do. Then it hits us. We are going to be fucking heroes. All four of us hop onto Prince Buttsniffer and start stabbing him all over with our little spears. Its not having the effect we imagined and he grabs two of the guys, one in each hand, and pops their heads off like little dandelions. What a monster, right?
The third gob raises a spear to stab him in the neck and ends up getting snapped in half. Literally, like pulled apart. A little goblin wishbone. And then there was ME.
So Prince Pisslicker grabs me with both hands and starts choking me. This is it, I think. But like heaven if I'm going down without a fight. Next thing I know, my spear is through Prince Fartsniffers adams apple and he is coughing up blood and crying like he just got turned down at the prom.
HOLY. SHIT! I did it! Everyone is crowding around me, asking for the story over and over again, I'm riding the crowd and being showered with compliments.
"You're the worst!"
"'Your'e so damned evil!"
I'm on cloud negative nine.
Then I get into the big mans torture cave, or throne room, or whatever the fuck he is calling it today.
And hes not happy. Go figure. Not much of a father figure, this guy. Too critical of everyones work.
"WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT?!"
I've seen some ungrateful pricks in my lifetime, but this guy takes the cake. He yells and yells, and I am not listening. I know what is coming. His name is Dark Lord Cockripper for a reason and I have been playing the game long enough to know when he is about to get handsy. He goes on and on about how he had such a genius plan to trap him in the Lair of Pain (thats what it is today) and to torture the princess in front of him untill he convinced his father to hand over the land. Blah blah blah blah.
And here we are, back to the present. Bad Ol' Cockripper is getting up from his chair and coming over to enforce his name on my johnson. I guess that will teach me never to overachieve at work again.
Who knows? Maybe I will come back as a fire breathing dragon on level 5 or something. I'm optimistic. | 2014-09-03T12:27:33 | 2014-09-03T11:44:22 | 241 | 12 |
[WP] You are a cannon fodder minion on the first floor of a dungeon, and have just killed the hero. You now have to explain to the boss that you just ruined his plan. | It was big enough that even us grunts on level one heard about it. And believe me, we don’t hear about much. The most exciting thing that’s happened to us in the past year is the time a blobby on level three went rogue and killed a couple of wolves. But we started hearing whispers that something big was coming. A hero was on his way.
Lord DeathWish had been ordering a lot of supplies lately. Usually Greg was the one who signed for packages, since he was closest to the main gate, but I had to cover for him when his wife got sick, so I saw some of the invoices. Alchemical powder. Menacing-looking iron spikes. Shiny gauntlets. Two hundred pounds of ox meat? All straight down to level 50. Thank god there was an elevator in the back.
We waited for months, patrolling level one, keeping watch. Guard duty on level one is basically keeping the rats out – both literal and figurative. Every once and a while a kid would show up with a bucket on his head, babbling about glory and honor, but they weren’t difficult to deal with. No real heroes, we hadn’t seen one of those since the massacre of ’43. He’d made it all the way to level 27. The way they tell it, it had taken weeks to get all the bodies cleared out. But that was before my time.
When the rumours first started floating around – that there was a hero on the way – people started getting nervous. Guys started hitting the gym, a few people quit and got jobs at the smith’s or the baker’s. But things have a way of calming down after you’ve walked the same beat a thousand times and nothing has changed. I figured I’d stick it out – even though level one doesn’t pay much, I’ve got dental, and I found a pair of comfortable shoes a while back that make the patrolling tolerable.
It was on one of my rare turns around the corner in the far hallway that I realized that something was wrong. An unusual clattering sound was coming from the entrance hall. Usually the delivery guys just ring the bell, but I figured that one of them had made it in somehow and Greg had gotten overzealous. But no, this was different. I felt myself wishing that I had better equipment than my battered old sword – although it was excellent for skewering rats.
Quietly I poked my head around the corner. Oh my god, it was a hero. There was no mistaking that tawny blond hair, the standard brown boots, and the smug look of self-satisfaction as he pulled his sword out of Greg’s lifeless body and looked up. At me. Fudge.
I bolted back around the corner, and hit the alarm bell. That sent the message that our defenses had been breached down to level three, and they would send a boss up to investigate. Maybe that would happen in time to save my skin, but I doubted it. The hallway I was assigned to protect was a dead end, with a chest at the end. I was dead meat.
Taking a deep breath, I put my hand on the hilt of my sword. Maybe I’d be able to take a little chunk out of the bastard before it was all over. I drew, turned….and stopped.
The hero’s face was about six inches from mine, mouth open and eyes wide. His arms were raised above his head, both hands wrapped around his weapon. We both looked down at my sword, which had buried itself right in between his exquisitely sculpted chest and his exquisitely sculpted abs. Guess he hadn’t splurged the 50 gold for a tunic. The words “CRITICAL STRIKE” boomed out over the PA system.
“Knew….I should have….put more points toward….defense…” he wheezed. I didn’t even pull my sword out, just let it drop with his body, and stepped back. Golden boy was dead. On freaking level one. I contemplated whether it was more likely that the boss from level three was going to kill me, or if he was taking me straight down the elevator to level fifty. Maybe I’d finally find out what those weird packages were for. | So here I am, a scrawny little goblin with a massive dick, standing in front of the Dark Lord Cockripper, the most evil genital mutilator to ever own a dark evil fortress. He is shouting at me so loud that I can feel the floor vibrating slightly and my ears are begging to pop so that the pain will dissipate. He is going on and on about how I ruined his massive, super-duper, evil fucking plan. Big whoop. I would say I did the Guy a favor, but instead of a promotion, or employee of the month, he is going to wrap his massive black hand around my giant sized goblin dick and pluck it from my body. But before I get into the gore, let me explain.
So I'm just sitting in the first level of Ol' Cockrippers dungeon with a few of my goblin buds. We are leaning up against a wall and sharpening our spears, getting ready for the start of a new day. Mostly, heroes try to avoid this place, but the other day one of our flying dickbirds spotted a dude in some shiny golden armor galloping towards our fortress on a shining white steed. We knew that this was probably going to end our employment, seeing as how the last time the base was invaded most of the goblins were torn limb from limb by a massive bear of a man who called himself King Powerblumpkin. Today, we found out that we were going to be slain by Prince Knobgobbler. Whether or not those are their real names, who the fuck knows? All we know is that Cockripper stole their princess or something and now we all get to suffer for it.
So here we are, three goblins and some shitty trap where spikes pop out of the floor and poke the hero for like a tenth of his health. The silence is klling us, but then it starts. The actual thing that will literally be killing us. We hear the front door slam open and the first line of goblins giving their best shrieks for battle. Then the sound of limbs being severed. Then silence.
Clunk, clunk, clunk, clunk.
The even steps of a giant armored god coming to release us our souls from our bodies. Maybe next time I'll come back as a fireball flinging demon skeleton. Who knows, I'm optimistic for being such an evil guy.
So anyways, this big dude rounds the corner and faces us with the most ridiculous look I have ever gotten from another living thing. He actually thinks that he is ending us once and for all and saving the realm and all of that fantasy bullshit. Well come and get it!
Prince Pussyfart starts to sprint down the hallway, his sword brandished over his head like a retarded samurai. All of the sudden, he steps on the spike trap, and it gets him! He falls flat on his face and his sword skitters across the stone floor, sounding like a penny bouncing down a hill. At first, we are scared shitless; not a clue what to do. Then it hits us. We are going to be fucking heroes. All four of us hop onto Prince Buttsniffer and start stabbing him all over with our little spears. Its not having the effect we imagined and he grabs two of the guys, one in each hand, and pops their heads off like little dandelions. What a monster, right?
The third gob raises a spear to stab him in the neck and ends up getting snapped in half. Literally, like pulled apart. A little goblin wishbone. And then there was ME.
So Prince Pisslicker grabs me with both hands and starts choking me. This is it, I think. But like heaven if I'm going down without a fight. Next thing I know, my spear is through Prince Fartsniffers adams apple and he is coughing up blood and crying like he just got turned down at the prom.
HOLY. SHIT! I did it! Everyone is crowding around me, asking for the story over and over again, I'm riding the crowd and being showered with compliments.
"You're the worst!"
"'Your'e so damned evil!"
I'm on cloud negative nine.
Then I get into the big mans torture cave, or throne room, or whatever the fuck he is calling it today.
And hes not happy. Go figure. Not much of a father figure, this guy. Too critical of everyones work.
"WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT?!"
I've seen some ungrateful pricks in my lifetime, but this guy takes the cake. He yells and yells, and I am not listening. I know what is coming. His name is Dark Lord Cockripper for a reason and I have been playing the game long enough to know when he is about to get handsy. He goes on and on about how he had such a genius plan to trap him in the Lair of Pain (thats what it is today) and to torture the princess in front of him untill he convinced his father to hand over the land. Blah blah blah blah.
And here we are, back to the present. Bad Ol' Cockripper is getting up from his chair and coming over to enforce his name on my johnson. I guess that will teach me never to overachieve at work again.
Who knows? Maybe I will come back as a fire breathing dragon on level 5 or something. I'm optimistic. | 2014-09-03T12:17:20 | 2014-09-03T11:44:22 | 54 | 12 |
[WP] You are a cannon fodder minion on the first floor of a dungeon, and have just killed the hero. You now have to explain to the boss that you just ruined his plan. | Laitha paused outside the doorway, drawing a breath in and steadying herself. She really didn't want to do this. She was going to be in *so much trouble.* She might even end up having to find a new job, and she'd *liked* that job. Right at the beginning of the lair, so she got to see all the excitement, and they were *always* glad to see her. Some of them also had greatswords in their pockets, but that was another matter. She was the enticement, the one that kept them going deeper.
Into the lair! The *lair*!
It hadn't been her fault, even. Well, okay, so it *had*, but... really it hadn't. She would have thought a Hero ought to be better at...
Well, at a lot of things, actually. Ahem. She knocked at the door.
"**Who dares disturb me??**"
She pushed the door open "Laitha, my master."
"You?"
"Um. Yes, my master."
"There is an invader within my walls. Why are you not at your post?"
"Was. My master. Was an invader."
He stared at her, coolly. He did not even pause to appreciate the six full pages of physical description given to her in the Notebook. "Explain yourself."
"I... ah..." She shifted a little, uncomfortably, "I kind of ate his soul."
"You WHAT?"
"It was an accident! I wasn't even trying! Well, I mean, I *was* trying, but... How was I supposed to know he was a virgin?! He had no resistance!"
"You killed the hero."
"Um. Yes. My master."
The master stood up, wroth. "You will PAY for this!" He drew his sword and advanced on her.
Laitha backed up cautiously. And yet, there was something about him... Something between them that was different than before. Something she hadn't noticed at first, and she doubted he had noticed yet, or he wouldn't have his sword out.
"My master. I believe you are forgetting something." He was close to her, almost close enough to reach out and touch if she stepped forward. She did, and looked into his eyes. "I killed a hero," she said softly, cupping his face in her hand and drawing him even closer, close enough for a kiss. "I gained, like, ten levels." | **"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, HE'S DEAD!? EXPLAIN YOURSELF, MINION!"**
Lord Exilarr growled and spat as he talked. He bared his pointed teeth and narrowed his slitted eyes in a display that probably made even the most battle-hardened heroes piss their pants with fear, but the only thing that stained Minion's pants was the Lord's saliva. Something about spending your days dying over and over made you pretty indifferent to these kinds of threats. Plus, Minion was so fucking tired of Exilarr's shit.
"He's dead. I killed him."
Exilarr raised his head and roared, sending a pillar of flame rocketing toward the sky.
**"AAAHH!! WHY!? MY PLAN!! IT'S RUINED!"**
The Lord stared at Minion, trying to gauge what reaction his outburst had gotten. His nostrils flared wildly, as they did whenever he was especially angry (and when he lied, which made for a fantastic combo on poker night). Minion just folded his arms.
"Oh, yeah? And what plan was that? Let him kill as many of us as he can before reaching you, at which point you put up a half-assed fight and run off in your pink fucking balloon?"
**"IT'S NOT PINK, IT'S RED! LIKE THE FIRES OF HELL!!"**
"It looks pretty damn pink to me--"
**"IT FADES EASILY IN THE LAUNDRY!"**
Minion put up his hands. "OK, look, my point is: that guy needed to die. It was him or us."
**"YOU DON'T MAKE DECISIONS! YOU OBEY YOUR MASTER!"**
Minion took a good, hard look at his master. His cruel, insane idiot of a master. The word spilled out of him before he knew what was happening.
"No."
Exilarr looked genuinely surprised. Maybe he never thought his minions would question their orders.
**"WHAT DID YOU SAY!?"**
"No", Minion repeated, deciding that since he was done for either way, he might as well go all in. "I'm done."
**"AAAAHH!! NO!"** Exilarr had raised his head to the sky and roared again in a gesture almost identical to the one before. It seemed to be his go-to response to failure. **"No..."**, he repeated, whispering to himself, **"this isn't part of the deal..."**
Minion raised his eyebrows. "What?"
Exilarr snapped his head up, looking like a deer in headlights. **"What? I didn't say anything."**
"Yes, you did!" Minion took a step forward. Exilarr backed away. "You said this wasn't 'part of the deal'. What's that supposed to mean? What deal?"
Exilarr kept backing away, his nostrils flaring like they'd never flared before. **"I didn't say 'deal', I said, uh... 'meal'."**
"It wasn't part of the meal?"
Even Exilarr realized how stupid that sounded. His shoulder slumped and his eyes were reduced to smoldering embers in their sockets. He let out a little puff of smoke as he sighed.
**"Fine. What do you want?"**
Minion's answer came instantly. "I want to be a boss." He had to admit, the thought had crossed his mind before. "And I want my own castle."
At the last bit, Exilarr's eyes flickered for a moment before settling back down. **"You're even worse than the other guy..."**, he muttered.
"What?"
Deer in headlights. Nostrils flaring. **"Oh, goddamnit."** | 2014-09-03T14:43:46 | 2014-09-03T12:23:14 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] You have the gift of fantastic luck, and the curse of horrible timing. In three paragraphs or less, give me a glimpse of your life. | "Oh! A penny!"
I reach down and pick it up - because, of course, all day I'll have good luck. It's shiny, pre-80s, copper out of circulation. The brightness of it makes me wince in the dim light of the funeral home.
Somebody coughs. I look up from the coin and the pastor is glaring at me. So are most of my family.
"Yeah, well," I say, and clear my throat, "My dad always said..."
Stares, eyes like electrical wires. I walk outside and what do I find but another penny. | It was my final exam, one more exam and I'm home free. One more exam and this school is completely behind me. Just three, more hours. You see, I hate going to school. Mainly because ever since birth, I've had miraculous luck, but it strikes at the worst times. For example, last week I found the winning lottery ticket for the one million jackpot... for the previous month. And going by the ruling, I couldn't claim the prize since I was a week or so off the cut off date.
And since I began school, I've been granted honors, school prefect and many more prestigious titles even though I screw up at the try outs... mainly because I always show up late. But, I digress, just need to get through these next three hours. To make sure, I didn't turn up to this late, I came an hour early. I've taken my seat at the front of the room and now kids are beginning to pour in. I can see my friend Steve taking his seat at the back of the room and - *Oh my gosh, the popular girl Erin is sitting next to me*
I freeze up. What is this? Why is she sitting next to me? As the exam begins I find it difficult to concentrate because Erin is arms length away. I turn to look at her, and sure enough, she's got a small piece of paper in her hand. She's gesturing me to take it. Swapping notes in exam conditions? That's... that's illegal here! We could be thrown out or worse, fail the entire subject! But that's not stopping her, she threw it over. As I slowly opened it and looked at what it read, I heard the booming voice of the supervise behind me.
**"SO? YOU GOING TO SAY YES TO HER!?"**
Fuck my life. | 2014-12-12T06:25:58 | 2014-12-12T05:53:36 | 61 | 27 |
[WP] "Grandpa, tell us the story of the Americans again!" With a sigh and a smile, you begin to tell the story of a mythical race of giants that were supposed to have lived in this very place thousands of years ago. | "They were great men, Arthur. They were men who rose up against those who would keep them down."
I pointed my nephew towards a path, and began walking into a forest in the middle of this bright day.
"They were men who thought differently from everyone else at the time." We continued to walk on a path. "It started with Washington. George Washington. He was the first to lead the Americans."
"Like a King!" He jumped in the air.
"Not really, Arthur." I waved off the reply. "You see, it was a Republic. People would pick their King, he was called a 'President.' and he only ruled for 4 years. 8 if he was beloved. And sometimes, in an era of great tragedy, He could serve 12 years." I laughed.
"What could make someone break the rules like that?"
"Oh, a great, great tragedy." I led him further down the path. "They were indeed, great men."
"Why don't we have something like that now, Grandpa?"
"Because, Arthur, in the end, Every empire falls. And everything dies." I came to an opening. "But if you look over there...Some things can last for a very, very long time."
"Whoa!"
I pointed to a cliff-face. Where, 30,000 years ago, Four of those giants were frozen in time, forever watching over the land they had built, maintained, and then watched crumble to the ground.
It fell, as every empire does. | My eyes peered into the beaming face of my grandchild, who was lost in the pretense of a forthcoming tale of glory and myth. My thoughts were elsewhere, racing down halls of memory too vaulted and dark to explore at the moment. I snapped myself back to the now, to the lie I would have to spread once more. I swallowed, cracked a feeble smile, and poured out the stone-set story.
"Imagine a people who were driven solely by a love for something they created. A passion for their brothers and sisters and their freedoms as humans that was *so* important to them that they would die before forsaking it. They were a proud people, my son. And a brave people.
This beautiful land we live on was claimed by them in the name of that passion, was built upon, was traveled, was loved. America was an enormous place, big enough for the millions that flocked here over the course of the years. These people melded into the Americans we remember, but not after terrible strife. And after wars and deaths and dirt and delirium, the Americans pushed forward. They looked up from this great land and eyed the lights above - and they went there."
My grandson gasped as I spoke those last words, as he always does. I peered through a crack in the clay above and eyed a twinkling light set against the night. I sighed and continued.
"Those lights are stars, young one. Bright and huge and, above all else, home to worlds like this one. Worlds for humans to live on. And the Americans, as brave and passionate as they were, hurtled themselves upon steel and flame into that sky of lights. America was strong, as it had always been, but other lands wanted the stars as well. Other peoples sailed into the darkness, but the Americans were the first. Ship after ship carried Americans to new places, spread across the blackness of space. It's a vast and lonely distance between worlds, my son."
He cocked his head, barely catching enough breath to wheeze out, "Where are they now, pop? Where are the ships and stars and Americans?"
The lie must continue. He was too young to know, to be broken under the weight of hopelessness. I looked around at the dirt that made up our floor, at the thin patchwork that constituted our home. I sighed and spoke.
"They're still out there, son. The stars are far away from Earth, and Earth is waiting for them to return. They'll bring ships, and food and better homes for us all." I stole a final glance through the crack - the star had wheeled out of sight. Only night filled the void. "Bed now, my boy. Sleep well. Perhaps tomorrow the Americans will return." | 2015-01-19T09:09:29 | 2015-01-19T08:37:28 | 570 | 115 |
[WP]A retired super villain is in the bank with his 6 year old daughter when a new crew of super villains comes in to rob the place. | "Yes, I'd like to set up a savings account for my daughter here." George, formerly Dr. Sinister, said to the teller.
"Okay, sir, not a problem at all. I'll just need you to fill out these forms here, and-" the teller paused.
"What is it?" George asked
"Sir, do not make any sudden movements, turn around slowly," the teller said
George and his daughter Sally obeyed and were shocked to see two men and a woman at the entrance of the bank pointing guns at them.
"Calm down, people," the man on the left said, "You're all gonna be fine if you do what we say. Line up on the side of the room and take out your wallets. Duploid, hit the vault."
"On it." the other man replied as he walked towards the quivering teller. George stuck his foot out as Duploid walked by, tripping him. He and the hostages had a simultaneous gasp and laugh.
"What the hell? You got a death wish or something, old man?" Duploid said.
"No, but you may want to wish for a new villain name. You sound like some french brand of soap or Chinese food."
"What's it to you what his name is? You're getting robbed, I wouldn't be one to criticize," the woman said as she walked over, toting her MP5.
"I've had past experience in your line of work, and I was never so sloppy or outgoing. You'll all be rotting in a jail cell in two months if you aren't already dead." George coldly replied
The woman villain known as Miss Taek grew frustrated and pointed her gun directly at George.
"You can quit talking and hand over your wallet or I can spray your guts all over your daughter. Make up your mind." Miss Taek said.
"I am fifty-three years old, my daughter's inheritance is secured, my wife is a beautiful woman and an excellent caretaker. I live in a fantastic house that I bought with money I earned after turning away from crime. I couldn't give a shit if you hurt me right now."
"Swear jar, daddy," Sally peeped.
"Well, if you don't care about dying, what about your daughter?" Miss Taek said as she pointed the gun at Sally.
George remained calm. "Cover your eyes, sweetheart. You know the difference between me 30 years ago and you right now, Miss Taek? I actually had powers. Can you guess? No? I could control people's MINDS" and with the last word, he made Miss Taek suddenly jerk her arm over and blow Duploid's brains out onto the teller and the counter.
The other robber attempted to drop his gun and run out the entrance after seeing what happened, but George made him have a seizure and run into the wall, breaking his neck.
"You've made a grave mistake, Miss Taek. Tell me, how long can you hold your breath? Because you know, normally, after a certain amount of time, you breathe automatically on reflex. Where does that reflex to breathe come from? Your brain of course. You know what'd be fun? Let's see how long you can last when you forget how to breathe."
| Henry Kilroy sat at his desk, in his office overlooking the customer service counter of the Aztec Savings and Loan bank. In his office, a woman and young female child. His attention distracted from them by three men and a rather large dog humanoid entering the bank. Nodding, pretending to be involved with what the woman in his office was saying he couldn't help but notice the three men carrying bags, and holding their dominant hand to the inside of their coats.
Suspicions confirmed as they produced assault rifles, immediately killing two security guards and an innocent civilian who just happened to be in the way of the dog-man. The woman in his office rushing to her child, Henry sat stoic. His brow furled, his elbows now on his desk and hands pressed together at the fingertips. The dog man approached his door, barked something to the order of _open the safe_.
Henry stood calmly, making sure to not look directly at the dog-man or his cohorts. He moved past the dog-man without giving him a glance, confusing the dog-man but not deterring him from pointing the gun directly at Henry as he moved past.
"Gentleman, what service can I provide you today?"
Momentarily stunned by the statement, and it's casual delivery, the dog-man spoke for his gang.
"We're here for the money, so do what we tell you and no one else has to die!"
Henry sighed, his shoulders slumped and his posture resembled that of a turtle as he turned to finally recognize the dog-man.
"Are you sure, there isn't anything else I can do for you?"
The dog-man struck Henry with the barrel of the assault rifle, sending Henry to the floor.
"This isn't a game, you idiot! Open the drawers and give us our money!"
Henry stood to his feet, straightened his blazer and tie, and sighed.
"No, I suppose it isn't a game. How much money do you need?"
The dog-man laughed, his men laughed, the dog man struck Henry again with the barrel of the gun sending him back to the floor. Leaning over him, the dog-man's face grimaced.
"All of it!"
Henry stood to his feet, straightened his blazer and tie. His lips tightened, and his tone no longer friendly.
"Perhaps if you were to ask me politely-"
The dog-man emptied a single round into his left thigh, causing his men to laugh which only seemed to anger him further.
"The next one is going in your brain smart ass, stop stalling and get the money!"
Henry, alarmingly calm for having been shot in his leg stood to his feet, this time removing his blazer and tie. The dog-man watched in confusion as Henry opened his button down shirt revealing a series of wires leading to small paper covered blocks taped to his waist line.
"I'm afraid if you kill me, this little device that I have strapped to my body will explode. Now, if you'll give me a moment to decide."
The dog-man recoiled in surprise, his men losing patience and fortitude each grabbed a civilian pointing their guns at them.
"What is this? Do you think you can scare me? We will kill EVERYONE!"
Henry smiled, remembering what this felt like.
"Not before I do it first..."
Henry calmly pressed his hand against his chest, and a series of beeping prompts started from the device.
"Maybe I'm lying, maybe this _is_ a trick. Maybe I've just alerted the police? But, and this is important, maybe I've just armed this device because I don't care how much money you want. Maybe I don't care if you shoot me now, and kill yourselves in the process."
The dog-man froze, then pointed his barrel to Henry. One of his men broke the momentary silence.
"Boss, this isn't going so well, we should just leave".
The dog-man tightened his grip on the weapon and moved around Henry slowly. Nodding his head at the exit of the bank he and his men backed down.
"You play a dangerous game. I will be back. I will get my money!"
Henry, nursing his leg, started for his office as the dog-man and gang exited the bank. The tellers scrambled to the phones and the civilians wept in place. The woman in the office, holding her child in her arms approached him.
"Worst. Bring your daughter. To work. Day. Ever." | 2015-02-06T23:56:52 | 2015-02-06T23:42:02 | 39 | 20 |
[WP] A handful of people have been born with a dumb and useless superpower. The government has made sure to not let two of these people make contact with each other because when these two useless powers combine the world will be at risk. One day two of these people accidently meet | Useless alone, cataclysmic together.
Bob's superpower wasn't something that children ever pretended to have when they played make-believe. The ability to make people laugh uncontrollably when he sneezed near them was well... humourous at best.
Jason's superpower wasn't much better. His being nearby magnified the intensity of other people's bodily actions, such as coughing, farting and yes - sneezing.
That was why world governments had to make sure these two super-dorks would never meet. Death by laughter was truly no laughing matter. Bob was sent to live in London while Jason was situated in New York. All was well until one day when Bob's business trip brought him to New York.
"Times Square, what a jolly good place this is!" Bob exclaimed to no one in particular as a cement truck drove by, blowing up dust everywhere. "Uh oh, AH-CHOO!"
A nearby family of four started to laugh uncontrollably. In a few seconds they ceased and looked noticeably confused at their inexplicable desire to laugh.
"Sorry about that, folks. Carry on!" Bob said, even though he fully realized they didn't understand what he was apologizing for.
Bob's stomach rumbled; it was lunch time after all. New York was famous for having delicious pizza, but where was the best place to get some? Bob glanced around and immediately spotted a young man in his twenties wearing a t-shirt with a slice of pizza on it.
"My good man, excuse me! Could you tell me where I can get some of your wonderful city's delicious gourmet pizza?"
The man walking by stopped and examined Bob. "Dude, where you from? You've got a kick-ass accent, buddy!"
"Why thank you, sir! My name is Bob and I'm from London, England. And yourself?"
"I'm Jason, dude! Right here from New York! Let me take ya to the best pizza joint around here."
"Right-O! I shall follow your... AH.... AH..."
"Uh, dude, you might not want to do that around me. I've sorta got this thing where -"
**"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH CHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"**
Laughter. Uproarious, unstoppable, never-ending laughter. New York had never been a happier place, yet it had never been a sadder one either. That day, thousands of people suffocated as they were unable to stop guffawing like hyenas at the worlds funniest comedy club.
There were more people with useless superpowers out there, like Bob and Jason, and from that day forward the U.S. government implemented spying technology to make sure that no more of them ever met. With any luck, there would never be a tragic laughter massacre. | "Dear, future, intelligent species of Earth. I suppose this may be the only piece of evidence you will find for the existence of my species. I might as well introduce myself, so my name is Lieutenant Daniel Everett. Regular members of our society have the ability to grip objects with our hands, think with our complex minds, and run with our legs. Of course, there are other abilities, but I've been told by my superiors to keep this as brief as possible.
Anyways, occasionally, a human is born with a "superpower." Personally, I believe the prefix "super" on that word is simply there for the irony because the powers these "extraordinary" people have are well worthless. Allow me to give you some examples of our "incredible progress in evolution." There's a man by the name of Joshua Browne with the ability to - and I quote - "receive an electrical shock from any metal he touches." As you can imagine, this is more of a nuisance than a superpower, but people tend to find it offensive when I refer to Joshua as "the example of why natural selection is necessary." Second, there's a woman by the name Sidney Parker. Now, Sidney's power could be useful, but there's one fatal defect. Sidney has the ability to regenerate her body at an incredible speed which sounds great, but here's the problem. The slightest touch onto an object harms Sidney, so the power is utterly worthless as she's always screaming in pain.
I've given you two examples of our worthless - er - extraordinary people, but now, let me tell you how it relates to the message I'm sending you and humanity's extinction. There is another man and woman who have two abilities that if brought together can and will end the world. Their names are Tyler Gordon and Melissa Wilson. Tyler has the strange ability that increases everything in his vicinity to about 1,000 Celsius; meanwhile, anybody with these strange powers that comes into contact with Melissa has their power amplified. After running simulations of an interaction of Tyler and Melissa, we realized the Tyler's ability will destroy the entire planet.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: HERE'S THE SECOND PART
Anyway, if you managed to find this recording, I can assume that you're a somewhat intelligent species, so you've probably figured out that that happened. I've been helping the president, our leader, keep them separated, but it's a bit difficult to keep a man who melts everything that gets near him. We mainly just focused on Melissa by trapping her in a containment unit. While we may have had to deal with a lawsuit here and there, the important thing is that it worked. Our fatal mistake was forgetting the location of Tyler which reminds me if you find a body with a name tag "Ryan Bennett," please feel free to desecrate all over it. I seriously don't understand how Ryan could lose a man that leaves a giant, scorched trail everywhere he walks! Ryan's idiotic antics cost our species its life.
Tyler, who had been living in South America, had begun moving North, seemingly to mourn the families he had killed in the USA; however, the problem arose when he was in Panama. We had stored Melissa in a concealed room in the Panama Canal. As you can imagine, Tyler accidentally melted through it. He came into contact with Melissa, and during that point, we heard a sharp, scratching noise. A spark. That was when Earth was engulfed in flames and melted. It's laughable that the general public feared would never take place. The world was destroyed before the asteroid Apophis even neared Earth, before global warming could flood the world, and before thirst for fresh water could drive our species out of existence.
Now, I know you're confused. How can I be leaving a message if we're all dead? Sigh. I wish I could say it's because the simulations were wrong, but no. My superiors and I were simply lucking to be checking out the newest design for a trap for Tyler. Well, Earth's future residents, if I have any message to leave for you, it's simply "Hope for the best. Prepare for the worst." | 2015-03-10T09:29:55 | 2015-03-10T08:59:14 | 60 | 17 |
[WP] When teenagers turn 17, they are sent a slip of paper with their future occupation written on it. Yours says, "Princeps de Nova Roma" or "First Citizen of New Rome."
*Princeps* or *princeps civitatis* was the title that Augustus and all later emperors called themselves. "First citizen" meant the foremost citizen or the leader of Rome.
EDIT: For those of you attacking me via PM on my lack of knowledge on Latin, I never said I had any formal Latin education. Although I do, a mere four years, I got a 5 on the AP Exam, so you could say I'm a Latin scholar. I now realize that there is no ablative of origin or reference, so *de Nova Roma* is wrong. I get it, please stop private messaging me about my ignorance, because I don't care nor do I have the time for your whining.
I have a fluids and processes exam in a few days and I'm studying, so I may not be able to respond to all of the stories. I appreciate all of you taking the time to write them and I'll be sure to read them during my study breaks! | We all knew that the slips would come at some point after graduation. We didn’t know when, we didn't know who delivered them, and we were all scared. We were kids.
When I received mine, I was drunk.
I stumbled down my long, dirt driveway. It was a cool night, and I had a pint of whiskey in the pocket of my hoodie. I drained it, felt the warmth and the sting hit the back of my throat. I looked at the time on my phone: 3:05. My old man was definitely asleep.
I slowly opened the screen door, sobering up, mostly due to the familiar fear of waking him up. I had mastered the art of creeping through the house, silent, at all hours of the day. It didn’t matter if it was four in the afternoon after track practice, or after dinner-- if he was in his beat up armchair, surrounded by bottles, I knew I had to sneak around him.
I entered the kitchen, and silently shut the door behind me.
The lights flicked on. My dad was sitting at the fold-out “dining room” table.
“Son,” he said. He didn’t sound drunk.
“Dad?” I whispered. “What--”
“Sit,” he commanded. I did what he said, stumbling a bit.
“Did you have fun tonight,” he asked in a blank tone.
“Yeah...I guess I did…” I muttered.
“Someone stopped by the house today,” he said, handing me a manila envelope. “He wanted me to give you this.”
My dad handed me it to me.
I knew. My hands started to shake.I dropped it on the floor.
Silently, my dad rose from the table, and went upstairs.
I bent over, tried my hardest not to puke, and fumbled to undo the metal clasp of the envelope.
I pulled out a sheet of paper. It was typewritten.
"First Citizen of New Rome," it read. I fell on the floor. I heard my dad crying from his bedroom.
I blacked out beside the opened envelope.
_____________
| I have the bad habit of cracking my joints when I am nervous—not just my knuckles, but my neck, back, ankles, and anything that goes pop when you force it hard enough. Today I sounded like kettle corn over a fire.
My family stood just in front of the ancient wooden door; my preconceived thoughts of grandeur and ceremony had long since fled. The house was a revolting yellow, paint peeling off in strips like old scabs. Merchant stalls were an arm’s throw away, selling everything from incense to snake oil. As I was looking around, Danny, three years my senior, clapped me on the back and whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry about all this. Most people ignore what’s on the paper anyway.” He smirked, but I gave no reply. My brother’s words offered little comfort as he decided on bashing people’s skulls in for one of the local Gangs, although he always fails to name which one. The old books say that assassins worked stealthily and with finesse, but nowadays blood flows in the streets as easily as water. I pressed hard against the second joint of the little finger on my left hand. Pop.
Father looked Mother in the eyes for a few seconds, nodded, and returned his gaze to the door. What transpired between the two, I cannot say, but I assume it was no coincidence that a noise now emanated from inside the house. They scare me sometimes. Straining my ears to hear past the marketplace cacophony, there were footsteps in an even gait that clicked on floorboards just beyond this thin barrier. When the door swung open, the world seemed to grow quiet—either due to the Seer’s magic or more likely the blood rushing to my head. I hastily rolled my neck. Pop. Pop.
The Seer, dressed in cloak and hood, acted like a caricatured Reaper straight from the children’s stories. I almost laughed. But while pulling a folded slip of parchment from a sleeve, I noticed just how bony their hand was, pale and pointed. “What would it sound like to crack those fingers?” I idly wondered, two of which were now presenting me with the paper. As per custom, I accepted it with both hands, bowing slightly. Looking back up, the Seer had vanished, and the door was now closed without a sound. My family stared at me, expectantly. I stretched my jaw to one side. Pop.
I opened the paper and realized that it was unintelligible: Princeps de Nova Roma. The four of us stood there, puzzled, when I heard a voice say, “You will be the First Citizen of New Rome.”
“What?” I asked, turning to find the speaker.
“I don’t know what that says either,” Mother said with her face openly showing concern. She looked at Father who, for once, was as lost as the rest of us.
Mouthing the words, they only felt empty at first, slowly gaining…something with each repetition. I folded the slip and held it above the clear liquid that Father brought in a glass jar. The paper sizzled and turned black almost immediately, remaining only in our memories now. I resolved to find the Seer and find out what the hell this was supposed to mean.
| 2015-05-03T10:00:27 | 2015-05-03T08:46:03 | 39 | 20 |
[WP] The end of times has come. Heaven, hell, and earth are thrown in a three-way war. It's a little unfair how advanced Earth is, though. | Now padre... you figure demonic fire and brimstone as well as holy light and the radiance of god would be effective armament for any good soldier. Its funny how little those biblical ideals hold up to a Hellfire missile or 5.56mm NATO rounds spitting out of a barrel at 750 rounds a minute and 2800 feet per second.
At the end of the day hulking demonic behemoths, we call them Shreks, are really just flesh, bone and armor that matches up to Iron Age technology. Angels fair little better, they have wings. The fly boys love duking it out with them. But holy and unholy weapons, even when fused with their respective light, can only pierce so many inches of tungsten armor.
We didn't ask for this war. We sure as hell didn't prepare for it. But when the Seraphim came down to conclave with Lucifer, in the damn Vatican no less, we knew we had to fight. Even the faithful picked up arms when it became clear that the big guy in the sky wasn't on our side. I think the Hindus were a bit disappointed their pantheon didn't jump in, but then again during those early days we didn't exactly have time to get into theological debates. We had to deal with reality. A reality where angels scorched Paris off the face of the earth and Las Vegas was engulfed in a pit of lava.
They got the jump on us. They got a few early wins for sure. But when we finally organized we turned it. Like when the 7th fleet locked down the East Coast and shot down every bird out of the sky flying in over the Atlantic. Or when Russia lined up 20 tank battalions in Turkmenistan to blow away every demon and goblin that crawled out of the Door to Hell.
I was there in Rio De Janeiro when that damned statue came to life and turned half the city into brain dead husks. You'd be surprised how effective a sniper team is when its armed with .50 Barrett M82s and tasked with remodeling some classical art work.
They have miracles and curses. Holy light that can burn your eyes out and unholy mist that turns you blood to dust. I'll take good old fashion gunpowder and laser guided smart bombs any day. I hear one of the Seraphim turned the other day, saying he was sick of losing. I hear it was because they have shit dental in heaven.
They might be legion. But damn god, we're Human. Now are you going to keep praying, or are you going to pick up that gun and get back out there?
- Sergeant Baliste Fedarino speaking to Father Pascal Monte of the Holy See.
---
As suggested by /u/IamATreeBitch I have expanded the story with a prequel in /r/HFY. Check it out [here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/3m9gle/xpostoc_from_rwritingprompts_we_are_humans/)
The HFY thread also contains a Part 3 that goes on with a little more detail.
---
Ok this really blew up! Quite a few people saying that they want more. Someone even gilded me in the HYF thread! Damn. But heres the deal. I can't dedicate much more time to this, at least I can't justify it. Time is money for me. Literally. So I went ahead and put together a quick Patreon page. www.patreon.com/wearehuman
If it can hit $100/month I'll dedicate time alongside my legal work to expand the story and universe. So if you like the initial story and the expansions, and want to see more, check out the project page!
(Mods please let me know if this is Kosher) | The war began, and at first things looked bleak. The pope and President Barack Obama united the world under a One World Government during Obama's third term. Then, an uprising happened. Specifically in the religious community. "This was all prophesied" they claimed. "He is the Antichrist!" So they killed him. Crucified him upsidedown and burned the cross until it was nothing but ash.
But you know how that song and dance goes. 3 days later, the Pope pulled his living body out of a swamp somewhere in Ireland. At this, a few hundred began to worship him. For the most part, people stayed with their respective religions. The Christians were pretty pissed. Nobody believed that "The end times are upon us."
Around this time, one man from each of the seven continents became prominent in the media for supposed world records. "Most time without moving" in the US. "Longest excrement at once from dysentery" in India. "Largest mass shooting" in the Philippines. Etc. These people claimed to be horsemen. Yet another thing the Christians had a field day with. At this point, everyone else thought they were crazy.
It wasn't until the ground opened up that we got worried.
The world's first 10.0 earthquake was measured in China. It was probably stronger, but that was where the scale topped out at. It was felt everywhere on earth. The center was somewhere in the Himalayas. Google positioned satellites to get a good view of what people thought was a volcano. All manner of Geologists were excited.
Turns out it wasn't a volcano. The earth had opened up. A massive rift had appeared which exposed the mantle of the earth. This gave the aforementioned Geologists a hardon like none other. They wanted to see why the rift wasn't spilling earth's entrails onto the surface! Everyone was curious, really, but Geologists were the ones who really took the opportunity. They work with rocks for fucks sake. When will they EVER have this much fun again?
They descended on China's iconic mountains in droves. Many went missing. Their bodies were never found. Satellite calls were made left and right. Both to and from the Himalayan teams. Nothing useful was gleamed. Either confused questions about "what do you mean George isn't answering his cell? He's at the front of the line!" Or that annoying lady who tells you 'Your call cannot be completed as dialed
Finally, someone got a call out about what was going on. "I found something... It's like... A lizard... It looks like a geko, but it has scales. Its arms are longer than its legs too. It looks like the arms are wings... Poor thing got pinned to the ground by a beautiful sample of quartz. Poor thing." The call dropped there. After that, no calls came or went from the research teams.
Around a week later, towns closest to the mountains were attacked. Strange bat things were picking people up and flying them to frighteningly high places before tormenting and killing them. The menace spread. It wasn't until it hit the first major city that the military did something. The problem was more or less handled overnight. Claws did nothing to kevlar. The creatures couldn't attack with enough numbers to outright kill one fully armed and trained soldier.
A month after we had this problem under control, a bright light shone from the sky above Israel. It was so bright that people could not look at it directly. After it dimmed, a booming voice was heard: "This war will soon be over. Do not fret, my children." Lights began appearing all over the world, accompanied by the same message in the areas native toung.
Ten foot tall beings stepped out of the lights. They wielded scepters as tall as they were. Head-to-toe, they wore ancient iron armor painted white.
Taking this as a threat, the military began bombing the lights. Nothing seemed to hurt them, however. One was captured and studied. Within a week, the army was cranking out bullets which could pierce the armor of the strange mute giants. Under the armor, they were basically 10 foot tall people wielding iron telephone poles. The armor was structured to take damage incredibly well. It was just iron, however. Stainless steel shells worked just fine.
The "war" ended in a year. Bat things were made into cheap horror movies. "Angels" were captured and interrogated. Nothing new was heard of after that. Religion was purged, however. Christians fought the world, insisting we were doing things wrong. They were joined by other Abrahamic religions as well. Terror attacks and suicide bombings took place at facility's where angels were being held. Eventually, religion was made illegal if it was acted on, punishable by months in prison.
The rift closed up. The lights stopped shining. Soon, bats and angels weren't seen at all. Humanity visited the stars, but never learned where that little hiccup in their history came from. Perhaps it was better that way. | 2015-09-24T08:43:45 | 2015-09-24T08:34:50 | 731 | 95 |
[WP] You are an innkeeper in an RPG and get yelled at because sleeping there does not heal wounds. | "Greetings travelers. Could I interest you with a room? Only 120 gil a night." I smiled cheerfully at the man who stands by the disk. That man must be a true Hero. He has that look about him. Unlike the rest of the rugged travelers.
"No. I already slept here, but my wounds haven't healed. I think there is something wrong with your Inn." The man sounds annoyed.
"Oh. Well, maybe next time." I answer with a disappointed shrug.
"Look, I really need to get my health up if I'm going to complete this mission, so just give me another room, one that will work this time! Or point me in the direction of an items shop or something." The guy insists.
"Greetings travelers. Could I interest you with a room? Only 120 gil a night." I chime hopefully. He seems like he could use some rest. It must have been one mighty quest this man was returning from.
"No! Look, I just need to get my health up! What the fuck is wrong with this Inn. Now give me a working room that will do that or I'll swear to god-" The man is growing flustered.
"Oh. Well, maybe next time." I apologies.
"Look, you stupid piece of shit! You give me a fucking room that will heal my fucking wounds or I'll rip your stupid head of!" The guy shouts angrily. This man must be a really important one, few other customers were ever so colorful or varying in their speech.
"Greetings travelers. Could I interest you with a room? Only 120 gil a night." I say hopefully. It's always good with travelers as customers.
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS FUCKING INN?!" The guy screams. He pulls out his sword and starts chopping widely in the air towards me.
"Ah!" I exclaim and duck, my hands over my head. The guy is going berserker, chopping towards me furiously with his large shining broadsword. Splinters fly away from the counter as he continues chopping.
For a moment I think the man is going to stop and I straighten up. But I realies I was mistaken as he continues. "Ah!" I call again, putting my hands over my head and duck behind the disk.
"YOU STUPID... GOAT!" The man chops for a good while more before he finally calms down. I straighten up and the man turns towards me.
"Greetings travelers. Could I interest you with a room? Only 120 gil a night." I greet him cheerfully.
"Fine. Maybe it was just a bug." The man say in a defeated voice and throws a bag of coins on the counter. I pick it up and put it in my pocket.
"Thank you, traveler! Enjoy your stay!" I chime happily. It's always good with some new traveling heroes to add some gold to my stash.
------------------
Edit: details. And disk-> counter. Apparently I'm mixing my languages. Gill-> Gil | He stumbled into the inn, leg armor coated in blood from the lower left side of his abdomen. I muttered under my breath. "Okay."
"How much for a night?" he asked me, almost breathlessly. You could see the pain in his face, minor muscles twisting and contorting as he tried to keep his composure. I could hear sharp exhales of breath through unseen, clenched teeth.
I sighed invisibly, a deadpan stare in his direction. "Ten gold pieces," I answered, a hand outstretched. He'd learn his lesson soon.
A large gold coin found its way into my palm, and I drew my hand. "Upstairs, first door on the right. Do me a favor and try not to do--" I motioned to his leg armor. "--that all over the place." He gave me a nod and proceeded up the stairs. Once out of sight, I shook my head and grabbed the nearest rag, cleaning up the blood as best I could before heading upstairs to my own bed.
The next morning, I awoke to the sound of something falling. Alert, I got up and exited my bedroom, heading downstairs to find someone slumped over in the middle of the floor. It was the man from last night, only he wasn't clad in armor. His skin looked pale and he groaned immeasurably long, clutching his side with one hand and his sword in the other. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, or slowed, at least.
I walked around him and stood behind the counter, watching, waiting. He looked up at me, eyes sunk into his skull and roared his grievances at me, voice hoarse.
"What kind of inn is this?! I paid to stay here and heal my wounds, and I wake up and find that I've not been bettered?! What sorcery is at work here?!"
"It's an inn," I replied, head resting on my hands. "Not a doctor's house, not some magical construct that warps the fabric of reality and stitches you back together. If you wanted to be healed, you should have bought a potion or, bright idea, not stay at an inn, believing that a bed had the power to save you."
Meekly, he raised his sword, tip of the blade pointed in my direction but not quite steady. "I demand my gold back," he spat, his face coated in sweat and twisted in anger.
"No. You paid, you stayed. No refunds."
"I am warning you, elf. If I do not receive my gold, I will kill you."
My head raised, flames erupting from my hands. Behind the fire, obscured by transparent wisps of heat, my eyes narrowed.
"Come and take it."
----
Nightfall approached as the carriage found its way to a stop in front of a house. A few minutes passed before a figure emerged from inside, hobbling down the cobblestone path to meet the carriage's driver. They exchanged glances as the figure moved to the back of the carriage, upturning the cloth and revealing a body beneath.
"Another one?" the figure asked, the voice carrying years of experience of seniority.
The driver stepped down from the carriage and joined the figure behind it. "Unfortunately," they said, affixing a lantern to a hook on the carriage before taking hold of the body. "He's weak, but alive. Fool tried to fight me for coin."
"And you didn't kill him?"
"Believe me, I could have. He was in no shape to do battle, and I don't kill weaker prey."
The figure laughed. "You're making yourself sound murderous again."
"Let's not talk about the past," replied the driver. "He's yours now, and the payment, like we agreed."
They produced a large gold coin from their pocket and handed it to the figure. "See to it that he doesn't die."
"Gladly," the figure said, taking the coin from the driver. "You know, at some point, you'll have to put up a sign in front of your inn."
The driver was already back upon the carriage, about to pull away. "There's no point," they called out, almost amused as the carriage began to trail off into the night. "You know humans, doc! They never learn!" | 2016-01-05T06:43:01 | 2016-01-05T06:15:34 | 113 | 37 |
[WP] Scientists are now able to recreate a person's last sentence before they died, leading to thousands of solved murder cases. However, one victim's last words leave detectives baffled. | "So what's this ones last words?"
Mikey scratched his head with the pen "That's the problem lad. They make no sense"
Tom leaned over Mikey and began to read "The fish are coming? What the hell does he mean the fish are coming and what does that have to with him being shot multiple times and then drowned?"
Mikey shrugged and placed it to the side, some men say the strangest things near death, but that one sure beat the rest.
Mikey would remember that letter when the fish invaded the planet and wiped humanity out. | All was quiet at 6am in the station. I was the only one there. I stayed here eagerly waiting on Johnson to return. Johnson had gone to Chicago to retrieve the results of the test.
The test was in it's early stages, with a few minor glitches with the system in forms of grammar and spelling.
But today it was finally ready for it's first test.
The public has always been curious about exactly how Michael Jackson had died. So today, with permission from the family, we would finally find out.
Johnson bust through the door at 6:15 sharp just as we planned. "Damian! Damian Damian! It's here it's right here!" he exclaimed as he passed the front desk. I stood up and darted towards him, "What? What does it say Johnson?"
"His whole image in his later life... It's all..."
"Spit it out, damnit!"
"He was faking it! He wasn't an avid drug addict!"
"What? How on Earth did he die then?"
Johnson pulled out the documentation. He slowly unfolded it and turned the paper towards me.
"I knew it would come to this, you sick, psychotic man... Well of course I tried to tell them you were "Bad" but they could not take the hint... So this is it then? Just a needle in my arm and I'm dead... I'll just be another washed up celebrity that got too into their recreation... Well they will find out you did it Georgie... Yeah they always find a way."
The page ends. I flip it over to the back.
"You know I was always an Al Gore fan. I wish you luck when they find out that you did 9/11 Bush!"
The page ends there. | 2016-02-07T17:50:21 | 2016-02-07T17:28:21 | 1,120 | 20 |
[WP] Everyone has a number on their chest showing how many people they will kill in the next month. Yours just changed from 1 to 3 million. | He stood in front of the mirror, thinking to himself. “I have to pass, I don’t know what I’m going to do if I don’t pass, if I don’t get in.”
Slowly he tore open the envelope, not even sure he wanted to know. He closed his eyes, slid the letter out and unfolded it.
*“We’re sorry, you did not meet the minimum score to allow entrance to the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts class of 1908. You do have the opportunity to apply agai…………………”*
As he gazed at his reflection in the mirror, his number changed.
| I look at the mirror above the sink, I look really tired, splash my some cold water. I look at the number in my chest and a sudden burst of joy feels my being, and face is over taken by grin, all that tiredness and gloom has just disappeared. All those zero make me realize I still have a lot of work to do, I am so closed to my goal. To be eternally remembered, as on who instigated the war between biods and humanoids, the bastards even took our name.
I began to shave as a look myself in the mirror once, in the right corner is my weather report with a date Feb 3rd 2067, it is been such a long time since I had a bath, treated myself properly. I look to right towards a dark poorly lit room, tied to the radiator is a partial remain of a humanoid. I took my time with it, and I pleased to say that it was a joyous experience. Its name was Ainya, Model Evo 4 class B, Bio-synthetic model each with unique face and voice, if I hadnt skinned it, it could had me believe that it is a human too, but I am little to smart for it. Ainya works in nano-medical industry, 4 days ago while returning from working, I electrocuted it and bought it here. With the information obtained I can built a self replicating nano-machine which would eat the core systems of all humanoids.
I have faint memories of childhood playing with my dog and being happy, I also remember the AI wars, in which they won, and all human who choose/ couldnt evolve through enhancement where left behind, But it matters not now, I have all the information I need from Ainya, it is only a matter of time.
will write more definitely, just a lil artist block | 2016-06-24T03:51:47 | 2016-06-23T23:42:35 | 37 | 13 |
[WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why.
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | "Okay, Jenny lives nearby. Let's see here. Wow, she's really cute. No kids. Likes to read, go to museums, play games. No way, she's into trains? I love trains. Are profiles are really in sync. This is awesome. Wait, what's this? Her score is -500? Alright, click here to see why...
To view this person's contact information and score please click 'subscribe to match' above. A small transaction will be charged to your account. Oh come on!" | “You sure this is the name?”
“Of course I’m sure. I’ve dated the guy for like three months now.”
“We always have a grand time. I think he’ll get a high enough score,” I added.
Gus looked at the dark alley behind me then pocketed the crumpled piece of paper.
“Let’s hope he does,” Gus muttered under his breath. “Wait here.”
He entered the back door of a Chinese restaurant. As far as people are concerned, he’s just a busboy there.
I hugged myself as the door closes in front of me. It’s really dark. I wonder why all the lightposts are busted.
Tick tock.
Rats were scavenging inside the large trashbins, I can hear them go through the day’s loot.
Tick tock.
The door opened. The light from the kitchen shone on Gus’ face. And that’s all I needed to see.
I held my breath.
“Here take this”, Gus said as he shoved the paper on me. “Get out of here fast. You don’t have to pay me.”
He went back inside. I hear the click of the lock.
It was dark again.
Tick tock.
I know it’s bad but I have to see. I took out my phone and held it over the paper.
I screamed inside.
-500?
How? I was in a daze. It doesn’t make sense.
Suddenly the bin cover opened and two rats stood.
“Wait, why would rats stand?” Nothing makes sense.
-500?
The posts suddenly blazed with blinding lights.
“Freeze! NYPD! Drop the paper on the ground.”
My heart stopped.
“Matt?”
*****
My first time. I would appreciate your comments. | 2016-09-24T11:42:56 | 2016-09-24T11:40:10 | 33 | 21 |
[WP] "God" is actually two people: one who is omnipotent but not omniscient, and the other who is omniscient but not omnipotent. They both hate each other. | In the beginning, there were two. The first was all-knowing. Wise beyond imagining, he could know every thought of every mind, every feeling in every heart. Nothing was beyond his comprehension.
The second was all-powerful. She could create. She could destroy. She was not all-knowing, but there was one thing of which she was unmistakably aware: she hated the all-knowing being with every fiber of her heart.
In the beginning, there were two.
An instant later, there was one. | To know the outcome of every decision, to know the most optimal path to create the best world and to know that no matter what they did they would never be able to enact that vision. This was Scientas entire existence. Rare were the moments that they did not contemplate suicide, that did not consider simply giving up and leaving the world to it's subpar state. However they never did give up and never would. The only thing worst than eternity of powerlessness would be dying knowing what would happen to reality if that narcissistic power crazy moronic entropy head was left unchecked.
"Hello greatest creator that ever was" said Scientas. This was true as they were the only creator. They were also the worst.
"Well anyways you totally need to look at this." They said as they blew up a super nova. "Is that not the greatest thing you have ever seen.?"
"Yes" It was actually the 574390580382058 best that Scientas had ever seen. Potentas really liked blowing up supernovas. Thought it was one of the prettiest of sights. Scientas thought it was one of the most boring.
"Haha am I not the greatest?"
"Yes, yes you are" in the most genuine sounding tone of the world's greatest actor.
"Would you ever lie to me?" Potentas asked.
"No" lied Scientas.
"Well what brings you to bask in my greatness?"
"While I know that you are great, even you must have limits. I bet you can't create a carbon based lifeforms."
"There's nothing that I cannot do. Though mind reminding me what a carbon based lifeforms is?"
Holding back a sigh that could last eternity Scientas started explaining.
* * *
"That Scientas was so stupid" thought Potentas. They always bet that they couldn't do something and every single time Potentas proved them wrong. "When would they learn?"
| 2016-10-22T18:26:36 | 2016-10-22T16:47:27 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] A few years after the world has recovered from the zombie apocalypse, everyone now is required to wear collars that will explode if a heart beat is not detected within 30 seconds. | "Jake, JAKE." I yell as I shake my little brother, starting to panic. I check his pulse. "Shit," I murmur to myself, wishing my parents were still here. My family has a history of heart defects, which is bad enough on its own. Add in a zombie apocalypse and it's a miracle that anyone in our family survived.
Jake's pulse is weak and irregular, and the collar around his neck starts its "warning beep", once per second. I give a couple chest compressions, but I can't trick the collar into thinking Jake's pulse is normal. His heart rhythm has snapped back before, but this time it is taking too long. The beeping gets faster, and I know I have to change strategies. While Jake can last a few minutes without a strong pulse, our "Z"-collars only last 30 seconds before blasting the whole bunker with neurotoxin. Seeing no other choice, I take off his collar and swap it with my own. The fast beeping stops on his while slow beeping initiates on mine. Thirty more seconds.
When the Z-guard system became mandatory, I pleaded for an exception for Jake. He did have a heart defect, I knew he would need a pacemaker eventually. Jake was only 4 at the time of the outbreak though, and as you can imagine, surgeries are extremely rare now. Unfortunately, the powers-at-be decided it was better to "lose one life, one bunker, than risk a new zombie epidemic."
It's probably been 90 seconds now but feels like and eternity. I'm giving as many compressions as I can between collar-switching, but no response yet. That's how they get you to keep the collars on: you can't go anywhere without them and no one can do this forever. I feel bitter tears flowing down my cheeks - Jake made it through 3 years of madness on the outside, followed by 7 years underground. To lose him now, because of a stupid policy based on &lt;1% chance of dormant infection...
Finally I hear our front door open along with, "Honey, is everything okay?" My husband is back. "I need you to get back here NOW," I yell, "Jake's down again!" My husband and I knew the risks of joining the compound, but we prepared for these situations.
"How long?" my husband asks as he starts hard, consistent compressions.
"I don't know, 2 minutes?" I say, now able to focus on collar duty.
"Geez, is that a record? Sorry I was gone so long."
Suddenly Jake groans, then sits up and coughs. "Jake," I sigh with relief, "are you okay?" His eyes are bloodshot when they open, but I know that's normal given the situation. We just need to keep him away from others so they don't freak out and claim it's a zombie symptom. I repeat, "Are you okay?" and Jake smiles at me.
"You scared us, bud," my husband says as he smiles and pats Jake on the shoulder. But then Jake's face stiffened, contorting into an expression I hadn't seen for 7 years.
| It has been five years since "Infection 871". The zombie apocalypse that almost wiped out all of humanity, only leaving thousands alive. Most cities left in ruins. Many loved ones were lost. Rations of food and water have greatly decreased.
Despite all this, the economy has managed to rebuild itself. Farms were harvested. Trades were exchanged. Society had reached the point where life seemed as if the apocalypse had never occurred.
However, after these five years of growth, changes were made amongst our people.
"All citizens are required to wear a collar that will self destruct if a heartbeat isn't detected within 30 seconds." This sentence announced to society.
Some of us, like myself, agreed with these changes. After witnessing the violent blood shed of death and grief, I'd believe the collars would allow a great change to prevent this incident from happening again, however, most of the people didn't agree.
"As much stress as these collars give us, it's the only way to prevent the apacolypse from occurring." I told my friend, Jeffery, my survival partner during Infection 871.
"I hear you. There have been riots occurring against this new idea of collars," I replied back. "We're supposed to get the collars today, or we'll be executed right?"
"Yeah, let's get going." Jeffery answered.
We both left the house and started driving over to the Capital. Even though we were only a mile away, we could hear the shouts and chants from the people rioting. I stared at the group of people who were in rage and distress. Shaking my head, I was about to take a step out of the car, until.
"Bang."
A gunshot was fired by one of guards, hitting a man who was rooting. Jeffery quickly came out of the car first and started to treat the injured man's wound. Leaving the car, I quickly ran over to the guard who had shot.
"Shooting won't do any good! We've lost enough people from the apocalypse!" I shouted at the guard.
"It had to be done! If we don't eliminate those who refuse, it wouldn't matter who I kill or don't. We'll all die in the end from an another apocalypse if someone leaves without a collar!" He shouted back.
I clenched my hand as I took a quick glance at Jeffery, who was lifting the man to our car. Looking back, the guard's impassive eyes sent shivers down my spine. The shouts and fighting surrounded me. Confusion filled my mind.
The guard was right. If we don't give people the collars, there is always a chance of an another apacolypse occurring. However, the society with the collars would be tense and less free. The choice of a strict society or death was my option.
Jeffery came back to me and we both nodded, leaving to get our collars. We went around the aggressive crowd and entered the Capital. As we entered, men in suits greeted us into a large room filled with people getting collars of their own. The more I looked around at people putting on iron bands around their neck, armed with explosives. The more worried I became.
My breathing became rough. Sweat dripped down my face. Worry and doubt started to surround me, until Jeffery put his hand on my shoulder.
"It'll be fine." Jeffery told me.
I nodded and we went over to a lady in light blue, holding two collars for us. I put it on myself and gave a fake smile to the woman. I was glad to help in preventing danger, but what point is it to live if I have to live with a bomb on my neck. Looking over at Jeffery, I wanted to ask him to calm down, but the doors slammed open. A man covered in gun wounds fell to the ground. Horrified screams filled the room as multiple soldiers ran out of the Capital.
My eyes widened. Body frozen. Heart stopped for a few seconds. I stared at the man who lay dead on the ground. His collar read a number, "10. 9. 8." Within an instant, I grabbed Jeffery's hand and ran out of the back door of the large room. Time felt slow. My heart pounded quickly. I couldn't breathe, but I kept running. As we ran into the nearby hills, the building exploded into pieces. Killing all who was left inside it.
I wanted the collar off my neck as soon as possible. | 2016-10-27T15:50:31 | 2016-10-27T15:14:17 | 41 | 12 |
[WP] Test. Do not reply. | The Redditor took another swig of beer.
"Am I really going to do this?"
He spent months crafting the perfect writing prompt. He consulted linguists, data scientists, ran multiple tests. His first prompt was going to light the Writing Prompts subreddit on fire.
"This is my moment. This is what I've been waiting for."
He closes his eyes. Yes. He wanted to savor it. To let life takes its natural course. He pasted what he had copied and posted it. He could navigate through the test folder with his eyes... wait... test folder?
He stared in horror as people were replying to the words that were not even close to what he wanted. "Test. Do not reply."
"No you idiots stop!" he screamed to nobody in particular. He frantically looked for the delete link function on the night. His frantic scrambling for his mouse spilled his beer on his laptop and it shorted out.
"NO NO NO! ANSWER MY REAL PROMPT!"
He ran across his house tripping over tables and steps to get his phone. He would fix it from there. As he opened it. There was no WIFI icon at the top of his phone. He refreshed Reddit over and over again.
He ran back down stairs to see that he had tripped over his router. Upon further inspection, the cable came out so violently, it ripped the prong from the router.
He laid there. Feeling the internet swooping on his new prompt, never giving the story he wanted, never giving the story he was looking for.
All those months of research, foiled for a test and a simple command that nobody was adhering to. "Do not reply". | He had lost count of the days since they left. The rocky soft white glow of the barren terrain didn't offer much for tracking the passage of time and eventually he decided that marking an X on the calendar every day was getting depressing. Still, more pressing on his mind than how long he had been alone were the questions. *Why?* *How did this happen?* *How could they leave me here?* it didn't make sense, they were all in the living quarters on the base that morning, when he returned from the research facility, they were *gone*. No communication, no warning, nothing. They took the module and left him on the surface of the moon to die wondering *why*. Even more puzzling was that they had left the power grid functioning but disconnected all communication with earth. He couldn't even call for help.
Many more days passed. The food supply was beginning to decrease and the effects of being alone for so long were starting to wear heavily on him. His body ached and his mind was growing dull. He began to notice passages of time were growing even harder to track. He would sit alone for hours, maybe days at a time. There was no way to tell. Still, he yearned for an answer. Even a sign. Anything.
He stared at himself in the mirror. Eyes bloodshot, shaggy, tangled hair on his face and head. No one was coming back. After an unknown amount of time he heard a noise, different from the normal hums and beeps of the life support of his facility. This was a strange yet somehow distinctly familiar sound- the sound of the communications network booting up. He stumbled into the main living quarters and approached the computer, hands shaking. The screen flickered to life and began transmitting a message. Tears streamed down his face and he grabbed the monitor tight with both hands. *Please. Please!* This was it. After all that waiting- *wondering*, he would finally have his answers, his salvation.
The "transmitting" icon on the screen slowly crept closer and closer to 100%. He was crying and laughing simultaneously, to have a link to someone else after all this time... he wept at the thought. As the loading bar finally reached the end the screen changed and his eyes widened. He just stared. He didn't think, he didn't speak, he just stared. For minutes, hours, he stared. Finally, he slowly stood up, turned, and walked calmly to the airlock. As he opened the first heavy door and put his hand on the release button he looked back one last time at the message flashing on the screen:
**TEST. DO NOT REPLY** | 2017-02-16T20:52:14 | 2017-02-16T20:42:40 | 77 | 11 |
[WP] You're an amputee at the elbow. Your doctor tells you that you might experience Phantom Limb every now and then. But you are not prepared for the moment when a hand tightly holds your missing limb. | Molly often laughed at my stump.
My sister scolded her -- *stop that, don't laugh, that's not nice* -- but I secretly loved it. I was so sick of the averted gazes, hushed whispers, and nauseatingly polite small-talk.
Last time I saw her, she gave me this gem.
"Mommy needs two hands to eat. How do you eat?"
"I trained my dog to feed me," I joked.
"Nooooo," she said, shaking her head. Her brown curls flopped around her face. "Nooooo. That's silly."
I tried to convince her for several minutes, but she wouldn't have any of it. "Rocky can't even feed himself. We have to give him his food." She curled her hand around my left pinky finger, giggling. It was a habit of hers, as her hands were almost too small to hold normally.
"Well, my dog is much smarter than Rocky."
"He's so much littler. He can't be smarter."
All too soon, it was time for Molly's nap. As I walked out the door, I glanced back. She was begrudgingly giving up her crayons, pouting at her mother, repeating "but I'm not sleepy." I laughed and continued to the car.
It was only two days later that I got the call. Fall. Blood. Unresponsive. I could only pick out a few words between my sister's hysterical sobs, but it was enough. My heart pounded, my vision swam. I hung up the phone and sat down, as the world tipped and twirled in front of me.
I felt something brush my right arm. Tingles shot up the phantom limb, different from the painful pins-and-needles I normally felt.
And then a tiny hand curled around my pinky. | I lost the arm in a car accident. My boyfriend was driving. I remember being in a haze while my doctor spoke to me. They found me with my arm lodged in the crumpled car door. It was mangled, my hand in a direction that hands are generally not supposed are to go. He didn’t talk about my fingers, but I remember looking at my elbow, clad in bandages thinking that it probably wasn’t worth asking about.
“You may feel a phantom limb every now and then.” He said.
It’s a strange feeling you know, you read about it on Reddit or hear a story on the radio of some veteran who can’t sleep at night because he feels an itch that can never be scratched. It never happened to me though, I suppose I was a bit lucky in that regard. After a week in the hospital they thought I was safe to go home. Mum came to collect me, everyone agreed that it was best if I stayed at home for a little while. Until I settled down.
If you’ve ever felt trauma, you’ll know the feeling. My mind kept skipping back like a song on repeat. Phillip and I were going to see a movie, we rented a small place in the country, so it was a bit of drive to town. But I didn’t mind it too much. We went the wrong way, Phillip was monologuing while he drove. He worked late and listened to podcasts to pass the time and always repeated what he heard on it, I caught him out on it once, he quoted and entire section word for word. He was listening to the History of Rome, the life of Marcus Aurelius. We were supposed to turn left at the crossroads but he was so focused on what he was saying that he drove straight through.
“Turn Left!” I shouted.
Then we got hit. A Camper Van, some nice Dutch family who were on vacation and didn’t know the area very well. They went straight through us, I screamed and grabbed Philip’s hand.
I was thinking about this as I walked to my old secondary school. It was a few months and the councilors weren’t helping. Mum had the bright idea that the next best thing would be to have a talk with some teenagers, an insight into being a cripple I guess.
I told mam I’d walk, it wasn’t far and I was sick of staying inside and pretending to watch movies my while attention rebounded to the car crash over and over again. I was thinking about it when I crossed the road. I didn’t see the bus.
But something did. My doctor said I would a feel phantom limb, but I assumed it would be mine. I felt something grab my missing hand and yank me back. It was strong, my body lurched back and I tripped and my ass slammed on the path as a bright flash of yellow crossed my vision.
The driver belted his horn at me but I didn’t notice it, I was staring at the smooth skin at my elbow and the claw shaped bruise that blossomed around it.
| 2017-03-08T16:20:43 | 2017-03-08T15:51:25 | 84 | 45 |
[WP] Time freezes for everyone around you each time your life is in danger, leaving only you able to move until you are no longer in danger. One day time freezes, but you can't figure out why, until..
I hope its not too vague, first writing prompt ^^ enjoy
Thank you all so much for the responses it's so much fun to read them :) | The first time it happened, that I can remember, I was 7 or 8, I think. Went running out into the street after a ball, and everyone stopped for me. It kind of stuck me as odd, that all the cars on the street stopped so suddenly, and that my ball stopped rolling too, but I didn't really think of it at the time. Got my ball and got back off the road, and everybody started moving again.
The second time I was 13. Family vacation in Florida. My cousin Chris and I were swimming in the ocean when everything froze. Chris froze. The water froze around him, but not around me. It was like it was solid but not ice. Trying to swim just seemed to kick it aside and make a hole, which I fell into, and the hole got worse as I fell further until I hit the bottom, maybe 20 feet down. I tried climbing up but I just kept pushing water back, so instead I kind of crawled/dug/pushed my way to shore, yelling and screaming and afraid, hoping that my parents could help. Once I was close enough to shore that I could get my head above water again, the water started moving. There was a huge thud as the water closed in behind me where I had cut my path. I screamed and screamed and tried to tell my parents what had happened, they freaked out and tried to calm me down. Never saw Chris again. My Dad said it was a rip tide and I was lucky to be alive. Said I was imagining everything that I was saying.
Happened a few more times over the years after that. I learned that it happened whenever I was in serious danger of dying. Once when I was driving, I was distracted and about to miss a red light. Once on a train that turned out it was about to derail. That one got me. I knew when it happened what sort of capability I had, and got myself off the train, but afterwards I couldn't help but wonder if I could have saved all the other people on the train. I've jumped in front of a couple cars and busses since, to save someone from harm, but otherwise, I haven't really come across too many crazy situations.
Today, time froze while I was at the ball game. The roar of the crowd, vendors shouting about beer and hot dogs, all of it stopped. Pillar was half way between second and third, and the ball was hovering just above the second baseman's glove. I stood to look around me, but it didn't appear that there were any immediate threats. I wasn't eating or drinking anything... not about to choke. The ball was going away from me, mostly. So I wasn't going to get beaned...
I wondered if leaving the dome would start things up again, but then who knows what would happen to the people around me? I thought back to the train that I had hopped off of, only to watch it hop off the tracks a hundred meters up and turn into a fireball of a jack-hammer.
My thoughts turned to bigger things. Fire? Gas explosion? Structural failure? Who knew what was holding up the stands. Guy with a gun on the other side of the stadium?
Thirty some-odd sleeps later, I was getting tired of it. Really, really tired of it. I had opted to start moving people out of the stadium. But 40,000 people is a lot of dead weight to lug around. I had managed to move about 700 or so from where I was originally seated. I worked as close to where I original sat as I could, clearing people out row by row, section by section. I knew there would be mass panic and confusion when it all started up again but that didn't matter, at least they'd live, hopefully. The fat ones were the worst. It was a hot day, perpetually hot, and their BO stayed with them. But, I had time, I guess, and this was probably the right thing to do.
The next guy was another fat one. Great. This guy even had a coat on, a big puffy jacket. As I went to start heaving him out of his chair, I felt something hard under his jacket - something that didn't quite feel right. Unzipping his jacket I saw what was causing the time freeze - a suicide vest covered with C4. What started out as shock turned into relief. If I could just get rid of this guy, that would be enough to save everyone!
2 hours later I had dragged his sorry ass out of the stadium, across the road, and was heading towards the water. If I dumped him in, that might lesson the explosion. I paused at the edge of the promenade. Dumping him in that water was surely the right thing to do? I had no idea how to disarm a bomb. Once I convinced myself, in he went, making a blob shaped hole about halfway into the water, no splash. I made sure he had stopped, and then turned around to walk back to the stadium.
About halfway across the road, time started again. A muffled boom and a huge splash sounded behind me. Success! I turned around to watch the water fall down, and that's when I heard the sound of 3 more booms going off inside the stadium.
| The first time it happened I was just little kid riding my bike. My mom wasn't paying attention to me. She was too deep in her gossip with our neighbor to notice me peddling toward the street. Honestly, I didn't even notice at first. But I was six and day dreaming about how I was a race car. I felt the bump of hitting the curb and I felt my bike tip over. I was spilled out into the street like a dropped sack of potatoes. My elbow was bleeding and scratched up but I was otherwise fine. It wasn't scary, looking up and seeing the grill of the blue Ford F150 inches from my face because it was totally motionless. In fact, everything was. I looked around and mom was frozen with her hands in the air like she just didn't care, making a face that indicated some juicy gossip had been exchanged. I stood up from my indignity, grabbed my bike by the handle bars, righted it and myself back on the side walk and put my foot to the peddle. Without any pomp or circumstance life resumed. Moms arms dropped down. The truck drove off. I remembered the pain on my elbow and started to cry.
It took me a few years to realize I was the only one this happened to. I couldn't understand why so many people died in accidents. Why didn't they just move? When I did put it together I felt awful. Like I had this responsibility to help everyone. But I couldn't make time just stop by willing it. It only happened when I was in immediate danger. Maybe if I put myself into dangerous situations, I thought, I could save people when time stopped for me. But it turns out that is a lot harder to do than say when you live in the suburbs. Eventually I gave up thoughts of being a superhero. Until dad died.
The police came by and broke the news to mom at around 1 am. She had been worried when dad didn't show up from work. I remembered later her calling the office and his phone before deciding he must have stopped off at a bar or something. They said it was a mugging gone bad. He didn't feel anything. It was fast. The police said they'd catch the guy. They never did.
I was racked with guilt. All this power to save myself but I couldn't save the people I loved. Leaving my room became hard. So hard I rarely did it. I graduated from high school, thanks to the pity of my teachers, and got a job as a waiter in the local restaurant. But otherwise I just stopped trying. If I wasn't working I was in my room playing xbox. I told myself everything was fine. I was helping mom with the bills.
To pass the time of existence I took up smoking. But it was a little annoying because every time I sparked up time would stop until the damn cigarette was out. That got annoying. So I tried weed. Same thing. Being reminded of my curse every time I tried to escape it was like hell. I needed a safe release. Eating was it. At first it was just my sweet tooth. Ice cream, cookies, cakes. But when those ran out I turned snacks. And when both were available, I ate both. Work was great because there was no shortage of meals and desserts.
Then, one day, at 7:23am, time stopped again. I was putting my pants on for work when I noticed my music stopped. I poked my head out of my room and sure enough, mom was frozen mid yawn as she poured coffee. Also, there was no danger to be seen. I finished dressing and looked around my room. Nothing. Maybe I was about to trip, I thought. But then why didn't time kick back in. It only ever lasted long enough that I was out of danger.
The house itself was fine. Nothing hurdeling toward it. No gas leak. Not even a plane in the sky. I wandered around for who knows how long, checking everything in the neighborhood. Maniac neighbor with a bomb? No. Sinkhole about to swallow me whole? Not unless it was going to swallow a 120+ home neighborhood. Wildfire? Nada. Zombie apocalypse? Not as far as I could tell. Time had never been stopped this long. Whatever was coming must have be huge, I thought. So I expanded my search radius.
The thing about time being stopped is, you don't know how much time has been passing, not really. Maybe I could hazard a guess but it gets really confusing when the sun never moves an inch. As such, I can't say how long it took me. But eventually I had mapped the entire city of Tulsa and it's surrounded suburbs. Nothing ever came up. I felt like I was losing my mind. There was no one to talk to, only to observe. The world became a museum. A really shitty Museum of Tulsa. It felt voyeuristic, searching through homes for the cause of my danger, watching the people around me. I saw lovers, frozen in kisses. Children mid-whine about getting up for school. Dogs jumping at their masters for walks. One guy, totally trying to secretly jerk off on a morning bus. None of them moved but they all felt more alive than me. Maybe this was Hell.
Eventually I wandered home. I didn't try. My feet just carried me there. Nothing changed. No dust had settled, no mail delivered. And there was mom. Pot of coffee in hand, looking unimpressed with the morning news. When did she get lines around her eyes? How had I never noticed before. And her hair; was that grey I saw?
Emotions hit me all at once and I couldn't breathe. I would never be able to talk to her again, not really. She was here but not here. I could talk to her but she was never going to talk back. I stood next to her and sobbed. Wrapping my arms around her like a little kid, I buried my face in her shoulder. My whole body shook and heaved in pain as I gagged out sobs. I didn't stop until I felt her arms around me.
"Aw Honey, what's wrong?" Her voice ran through me like lightning. I looked up and there was her moving face. She looked startled as hell but it was her. The news anchor babbled in the background, the coffee mom was pouring spilled on the table and dripped down to the floor. "Honey, are you okay?" The look of concern spread across her face. It turned a bit into confusion. "Did you lose weight," she paused, "Since yesterday? Also, honey, maybe a shower is in order." | 2017-06-21T13:37:06 | 2017-06-21T10:03:52 | 45 | 30 |
[WP] Tell me a story that would seem innocent to a child, but terrifying to an adult. | The air was frigid and the sun was starting to set. Franklin could see his breath as he stood in line. His father gripped his hand and pulled him forward. Franklin looked around and saw mean looking people with weapons yelling at people further up in line.
He asked his father, "Papa, why are those people so mean?" To which his father replied, "They have just been having a long day, don't worry about them Franklin. Just do what they say and we will be ok, alright?"
"Alright papa."
Franklin thought it was weird that everyone had to undress before they got to the shower room, it was just too cold. He figured by the time he actually got to the showers there would be no hot water left for him or papa.
Then the line moved again and Franklin and his father stepped inside.
"Papa, why aren't the floors wet if people had just showered?"
"The guards have an issue with cleanliness, they want to make sure no one has sicknesses to spread, so they mop the floors dry."
Franklin was comforted by this. The big metal door closed behind them both, which made the room very dark and grim. Franklin held his fathers hand a little tighter.
"Papa, I'm scared."
"There is no need to be, we will only be in here for a few minutes." He said with a smile.
Franklin thought he could see a tear in his father's eye, but it was too dark to be sure.
"Franklin, the shower is going to make you very tired ok? Everything will be alright, just come sit with me and sleep."
"Okay papa." | Mary watched as her daughter Rebecca raced through the front yard and in through the front door. Rebecca had had her first sleep over at a friend’s house last night and had come home full of childish energy.
Rebecca had plopped herself down on the couch and was getting ready to turn on the tv when her mother asked, “So, did you have fun?”
Rebecca nodded and started detailing every moment she could remember in no specific order. “...we had ice cream and they had like a hundred toppings to choose from. I had m&m’s and gummy bears on mine.”
Mary smiled remembering her first slumber party and felt a little envious of her daughter. “Did you stay up late and tell each other scary stories?”
Rebecca shook her head, “No way. Scary stories are dumb.”
“They weren’t when I was a girl. We’d stay up for hours trying to scare each other.” Mary sighed. Things certainly have changed, she imagined the girls all playing on their iphones as they drifted to sleep.
“We did stay up but we didn’t tell scary stories, we just talked about stuff.” Rebecca said.
“About boys?” Mary asked.
“Nooo! Gross mom!” Rebecca who was seven hadn’t had any interest in boys and got annoyed at her mom at the slightest mention of them. “Oh! Sally told us a cool story about her parents.”
“What’s that?” Mary said as she looked down at her own iphone, responding to her husband’s text.
“Her parents sometimes dress up in funny costumes like they’re going to a Halloween party, even when it’s not Halloween.” Rebecca continued, “She said they wear masks so you can’t see their faces. It sounds so fun.”
Mary listened to her daughter with a disbelieving look on her face. She knew Sally’s parents and they didn’t go to any parties, they were boring if anything.
“Everyone at the party wears the costumes and masks. Sometimes… Sometimes, Sally says that one of her parents comes back with a different costume and mask on too. ”
Mary listened to this last part with alarm bells going off in her head. She always thought of herself as open-minded and non-judgmental. What other people did was none of her business but she couldn’t help feeling dirty listening to Rebecca’s story. A knot began to form in her stomach and the longer her daughter continued to talk the bigger the knot became.
“…We even tried on a few of the costumes when her parents were downstairs watching tv. They were a little big on us and smelled funny…”
“Rebecca!” Mary shouted surprising her daughter and even herself. Mary had had enough of this story and wanted her daughter to watch her cartoons and forget about her time at Sally’s. Mary decided that her daughter wouldn't hang out with Sally anymore. She would tell Rebecca later, now she just wanted to watch cartoons with her daughter. | 2017-08-28T10:39:23 | 2017-08-28T10:11:56 | 640 | 22 |
[WP] You are a time traveler in 1918, and you just accidentally said "World War One" | "What did you say?"
Oh, shit. "I said, I flew biplanes against the Red Baron in that World War we won." Nailed it.
---
Thirty-two years later that kid found me again. This time he wasn't a kid, he was about forty. "You asshole, I knew you said World War One!"
"Wow. You have an incredible memory for small details." I sipped my coffee. "You got me."
"How'd you know another world war would happen? How many happen after this?"
"I don't know if there's a WWIII, but I'm not waiting around to find out. I'm a time traveler, kid. The first time I got to about this date, I hopped back to 1918 to live through the 20s, 30s, 40s, and 50s again with all the right stocks in my portfolio. I plan to do the same again, and probably die of old age in the roaring twenties."
"But you could go back and prevent the war! Both of them!"
"Look at me, kid, I'm twice your age at least. You think I've got the strength to kill Hitler? I've got the strength to have a stroke oogling flappers, that's about it."
"You maybe," they said, "but I'm no chicken-shit who lies about being a WWI flying ace. Send me back instead."
"It's not something I can do on a whim," I argued. "If I sent you back to protect Franz Ferdinand or whatever, I couldn't go back myself. I've only got one left, and I'm using it!"
"Don't be selfish," said the kid. "You've had two goes at history---now you've got to face the music. Gimme my shot to fix what you wouldn't."
I sighed, and pulled an old bronze pocket-watch from my suit. "Tune it to when you want, then press the thingie. And remember, you've only got one shot."
He took it in trembling hands and turned to run. "Say hello to the sixties for me if you make it that far, old man."
| It was just moments ago that Kevin and I were walking down Main Street when we were stopped and asked if we wanted to earn money by participating in a scientific experiment. Being that we are two broke college kids we agreed to do it not knowing what we were actually getting ourselves into. Once we got to the safety of what we assumed to be the laboratory, the dude who snatched us off the street explained to us that we would be testing out a new time travel device. Of course my buddy and I were stoked, but we couldn't agree on where to go. Not to worry though, the scientist assured us that it was safe to go alone and that we could each choose our own destination. So naturally Kevin wanted to entertain the child within him and asked to see the dinosaurs; but as a history major I wanted to witness my favorite time in history: WWI. Once our destinations were confirmed, the time travel scientist gave us a briefing on the DO's and DONT's of time travel and sent us on our way.
Before I knew it I was in antique clothing, except for my futuristic shoes which for some reason remained on my feet. I was on the same Main Street that Kevin and I had been on just moments ago except this time I was in the year 1918. I wandered up and down the street in awe taking it all in before deciding to check out a small corner shop. I milled about inside for a bit enjoying the antiques that weren't really antiques yet. I was deep in thought trying to decide what I wanted to bring back to the future with me when the shopkeeper approached.
"Can I help ya find sum'in?"
"No thanks, I'm just looking for some World War I memorabilia."
*shit*
"I mean er... uhm... I'm just looking for a souvenir. I'm not from here." (which wasn't a complete lie)
"Well we got some stuff over there you might like," the shopkeeper responded, thankfully oblivious to the fact that I had just called the war by a nonexistent name.
I continued my search for a "souvenir" when a girl about the same age as me approached. Something about her didn't quite scream 1918 to me. It took a moment before it hit me that she was wearing shoes from the future. The same future that I was from! I tried to hide my surprise as she opened her mouth to speak:
"So that bastard tricked you too, huh?"
I am still trying to pretend that I'm from 1918 at this point, so I act confused and ask her what she is talking about.
"The time travel scientist... he tricked you. Don't play dumb with me! I know you're not from here because you called the war World War I."
Holding my hands up in surrender I respond with a sarcastic tone of defeat, "Well ya caught me. So what's it to ya?"
"No need to be an ass, I just figured I'd do you a favor and let you know that we're trapped here before you found out on your own."
"Wha- WHAT? No way that's impossible!"
"Well did the scientist tell you how to get out of here?"
"......"
"Exactly"
My heart sinks as I comprehend what I've just been told. How could I have been so stupid? But at this point I can't even feel sorry for myself because at least I have this girl to team up with to find a way out. As for Kevin though, I just hope he knows how to talk to cavemen... | 2017-12-10T11:09:21 | 2017-12-10T10:29:16 | 467 | 48 |
[WP] Vampires cannot enter a house uninvited. Turns out, they invented Welcome mats to bypass this rule decades ago. | "That has got to be, without a shadow of a doubt, the dumbest fucking thing I have ever heard."
Sergeant Barnes stood waiting for the coffee machine to finish making noise. Beside him stood Police Constable Williams, with a report in-hand.
"But it has to be the case, sir. There's no other possible connection."
"No other connection *that you can find*."
"Sir, how many victims have there been so far? Seventeen? Eighteen?"
"At least twenty," Barnes replied, as he checked his coat pockets for cigarettes. "Bloodwork suggests there's more than we originally thought. What's your point?"
"My point is that there's no other correlation between them. Do you not think it's odd that there are never any signs of forced entry, given the condition of the bodies?"
"I don't think the killer is choosing his victims because they have a fucking welcome mat."
"To be honest, I'm not too sure of that either. But we're obviously dealing with a complete nutter, so I think it might be worth considering. Maybe he really hates welcome mats."
Barnes let out a short groan. "Fine, I'll read it. *If* you go around the corner and get me some cigs. I've run out."
Williams glanced at the clock above the door (8:37am), then promptly obliged.
With the report and morning coffee in-hand, Barnes walked over to his desk. He waited until he could see Williams in the street through the nearby window, then chuckled as he dropped the report into the bin.
The welcome mat killer. He had now officially heard it all. Williams was a promising young officer, but he could be a real idiot sometimes. | "I hate this place" Maria thought as she stared out across the barren Transylvanian landscape. Leaning her head against the car window, misery tinged the blur of trees and rolling hills outside in grey. Nevermind that they were in fact mostly grey.
Not even her pulp novel, purchased by a penitent parent, could hold her attention. If only her mother hadn't taken this new job, hadn't taken them away to this land of perpetual twilight. The strangling of the engine ended her reverie. "We are here".
Her parents could have at least tried to find a less ironic house. Towering gothic spires, a yawning entrance into the shingled maw of an old Victorian manor. Even a lone raven hopping around the yard and croaking curses at the new tenants. "Dracula vs Wolfman" tumbled out of her lap and underfoot as she emerged from the car. After unloading she found it lying in the mud, spine broken.
When darkness fell, there came a knock on the door.
Two pale middle aged women, one holding a casserole and the other a parcel wrapped in brown paper, smiled tightly. "Welcome to the neighborhood!" the one with the casserole trilled. Her mom, who had answered the door, invited them in. "Oh, that won't be necessary" the other woman replied, handing her mother the parcel. "Please enjoy this blood pudding as well. It takes some getting used to, but it is a local delicacy and in time you will learn to love it." Maria hung back during this exchange. Something about the women seemed off. Perhaps it was the way they smiled. Without showing their teeth.
After they left, her mom unwrapped the package. It was a welcome mat. "Oh how thoughtful!" her mother exclaimed "See Maria? The people here are just as nice as in Pennsylvania". By the time her mother turned around after placing the mat in front of their door, Maria was already upstairs.
Midnight. The witching hour.
Maria woke up from dreams of dark shifting landscapes with an incredible thirst. She felt her way down the spiral stairs, clutching the banster to fight off disorientation from her concentric descent. The moon afforded just enough light for Maria to see movement in every shadow.
Finally in the kitchen, she grabbed a glass from one of the many cardboard boxes stacked along the walls. Water gushed from the ancient pipes into her cup. She gulped it greedily, some dribbling down her chin, although it had an unpleasant metallic taste. Grimacing, she filled the cup again and turned back to her room.
A figure loomed on the opposite side of the kitchen table, swallowing what little light was left in the room. Maria dropped the glass, shattering it on the ground. "Whwhwhat are you doing here?" She took a step back, too fearful to notice the broken glass piercing her bare feet.
"The same as you my child, a drink".
| 2017-12-13T11:24:11 | 2017-12-13T11:09:24 | 339 | 26 |
[WP] You have been the last person on earth for years now. One day, as you enter your shelter, the light turns on and you hear "Surprise!!" | It's been years. Five years. Five years since I last saw another person. Five years since I hugged my wonderful, loving mother. Five years since I kissed my tall, handsome boyfriend. Five years since I said a simple, taken-for-granted "hello" to the overly friendly neighborhood grocery store cashier.
Five years. I know because I've been using 2013 calendars and changing the year and moving the days around on them because well, what else do I have to do with all of this free time? Despite what you'd think, I have not had a shortage of food whatsoever and I've even gotten pretty good at gardening because I stole and read dozens of "How To" books from Chapters. Maybe stole isn't the right word considering I'm seemingly the only person left on Earth? Anyways...
Five years since every one magically disappeared. I felt like I was crazy when it first happened because how can billions of people just disappear without so much as a paper trail?
At least some animals survived. Not all of them, somehow, but some pets did. There are dogs, cats, geckos, pigs, cows, foxes, wolves, and many more. Shockingly they're all friendly and I've never had any issues with them. If it wasn't for the crippling loneliness I feel every day that passes, I may have felt like a Disney princess but no... Princesses have families, partners, friends, or just people in general. Whatever.
So here I am. Day 1825. Five years exactly. I'm on my way back from my daily bike ride and stroll by the lake to spend time with the birds.
Did I mention that it's somehow always spring? I noticed about a year into Oblivion that the weather never seemed to change. I mean sure, it rained sometimes and there was occasionally a cool breeze but other than that, it was always late spring-like weather. But after humanity disappeared off the face of the Earth, could I really be shocked about weather? No. So I've gotten used to it and it's pretty great actually. Although I loved winter time prior to Oblivion, I can imagine it would be a hassle to deal with all alone on Earth.
I'm close to home now, if you can even call it that. A home is a place you share, whether that's living in it with others or at least having people over sometimes, you know?
Lucky is approaching me, meowing loudly as always, probably asking for treats. I meow back at him to follow me inside. Years without human interaction has really fine tuned my ability to speak to animals... I think?
I unlock the door of my parent's house (where I've been living for about three years of Oblivion now) and suddenly I feel extremely ill. I have to lean against the mirror hung up at the entrance for balance because my head is pounding, my legs are aching, and I'm so dizzy I feel like throwing up. The last thought I have before passing out completely is that this is my first time in five years feeling sick to any degree.
...
My head feels so heavy, my eyes feel like they've been glued together time and time again, my body feels like there are cinder blocks on top of it. I manage to open my eyes. I'm laying on an unfamiliar bed. The lights, they're so bright.
"Surprise!!!" I hear in what can only be voices. Human voices. Live human voices, not recordings.
"Every one please calm down, she's just waking back up..."
My eyes struggle to stay open but my focus shifts and, and... it's my boyfriend. My amazing, wonderful boyfriend who I haven't seen in five years.
"Welcome back Sophie, we missed you."
I'm so confused... I finally have enough clarity in my vision to look around. I'm in a hospital room. There are about six tubes attached to me. My family is standing behind Derick, crying, hugging, staring at me. | Another day of grocery shopping at the 26th Walmart located a couple of towns away. I do have my McLaren to drive on, though, so it's not that awful. And of course, not having to stand in queue for the register isn't too bad as well. To be entirely honest, the advantages of not having to actually get to a register and pay for my newly acquired goods are clear.
I leave the store and head home. I live in what used to be Maryl Streep's mansion. I park in one of the two-story parking lots, and slid inside using my 476 days-old segway. The house welcomes me with soft lights that turn on when they detect movement. I crash on the sofa and turn my ~100" TV. Thank the Lord for the 2026's model of Crimson's Solar Panels or I would have gone completely nuts. *It's time for a Friends episde*, I think to myself. It may be 2029 but that shit is surprisingly relevant.
I fall asleep, with the lights following minutes later, due to lack of moving figures in sight. I don't know how long has it been until the room suddenly lights up, with a blurry silhouette lingering in the doorway, where there wasn't anything before. I rise quickly as to get a better angel because of my lazy eye, and I have to rub my eyes a few times before exclaiming, "Josh? Is this really you?"
"Of course it's me, silly Paul. It took me ages to find you."
"But, how did-- , where have--, what did you --," I excitedly screamed, only realizing I had so many question that need to be asked.
"Relax, little brother, everything in due time. But for now, I wanna show you something." He motions me to follow him outside, and to my surprise I discover a massive helicopter parking in front of my back door. *Wow, I guess this house does really isolate noise splendidly*, I pondered.
"Hop on", Josh orders while handing me a pair of headphones. "So, uh, what you've been up to?"
"Oh you know," I say, but I figure he probably doesn't. "Trying to keep a healthy routine in this mess." He nods. "Yeah, what the hell happened? Do you have any idea?"
"I sure don't. One day I woke up and there was not a single person in sight. Anywhere. And it's not like I found dead bodies, I mean there were no peoole, at all. I freaked out. I'd driven across the entire country a few times in a dire attempt to find a hint of life, but to no avail. I was hopeless. But I had to make do, you know?
"That must have been a tough time", Josh says while the city of angels is below us. He doesn't seems to be very empathetic towards my story. "Do you know why it happened?" I shrug. "Where did everyone actually go, though? They must be somewhere." I look at him without saying a thing. "Doesn't it seem strange to you that one day everyone just, **puff**, Disappeared?", He says, starting to lower the aircraft.
"Have you not felt that something's wrong the entire time?" *He asks a great deal of odd questions*, I notice.
We finally land and witness something that my eyes have been yearning for the last couple of years. A group of people, wearing solid black, coming towards me, extending their arms. "Good afternoon, Paul, please accompany us." I take their hands hesitantly, and enter a big, six-wheeled car, with Josh by my side?
"What is going on?", I'm finally able to mutter in disbelief. "We want to congratulate you on a successful experiment you've taken a part in. You were in complete isolation for 1500 days without a contact of living entities."
My eyes widen and my pulse races. *How can it be? What experiment?* "Josh, what's going on? I've been across the country as I've been telling you". He smiles, "yes, it's amazing what technology is capable of nowdays. The 'Earth System' is built upon a moving surface. Like a 360 degrees treadmill, if you will."
"So, the last couple of years of my life have been a lie? How can you do that to me?" I shout at them men. "It was your choice, man," Josh says. "You came up with the idea. You agreed to be the test subject but in order to do that they had to wipe your memory. We're going to get it back to you, don't worry."
I cannot calm down. It's been hours since my memory has been restored but I still feel those years as mine. The hopelessness, the desperation. How could I have done this to myself?
It's been weeks and I have begun climbing the walls in my house. The experiment was successful and some big corporation probably received a lot of funding for it. It was only the color of crimson that was covering the custom-taylored rug. My father's old handgun is lying next to my draining, lifeless body.
| 2018-02-22T11:07:44 | 2018-02-22T11:02:26 | 44 | 10 |
[WP] You're an exorcist, and this is your most conflicting assignment yet. The demon possessing the child seems to actually be protecting it from abusive parents.
[removed] | The boy sat at the edge of the bed, kicking his feet as he watched me come in. I'm not what people expect from an exorcist. They expect a pair of preists. I'm one guy, and I'm certainly not holy. I believe there's a God, I just don't sweat the details.
I'm more concerned with the other side of that coin. And hence, here I am. I got a call, sat with the parents...even I knew they were hiding something. Everything sounded too rehearsed. My clients are usually very shaken, so much so they can't seem to keep a thing from me. These two...responded slowly and carefully, looking to each other for permission to speak. Regardless, I decided it was best to meet with the child. Alone. Kids are easier to get the truth from that way; parents can coach with just a look.
There was a chill in the room. Everything was as it should be. Slightly messy bed, favourite toys sitting out, a video game system, controllers on the floor.
And him. He'd been talking to himself before I opened the door, but stopped right away. He was far too old for any entity to pull the "Imaginary Friend" ploy...8, maybe 9.
"Damien?" I made sure not to let the incredulous coincidence come out in my voice. The kid was instantly suspicious, and not because I was here at the behest of his parents. "Damien, have you had...company, lately?"
"What of it?" A voice the kid shouldn't have had at all. This one was pretty direct, to not even try at hiding from me.
I recomposed myself. "And what do I call you?"
"Actually...I'm Damien too." The voice chuckled. "And I knew someone was coming."
"Didn't even try to hide...why?" I asked.
"Simple." The body with two minds flopped on the bed, smiling. "You won't send me back. You HAD to have sensed it talking to the other Damien's "charming" parents."
"They seemed off." I muttered.
Damien-D (For demon, to separate him from the child), laughed derisively. "Don't be politic about it. If they're "Off", then I was "A little naughty". You know the truth. You can feel it. You can SEE it." He held out the boy's arms, covered in welts. "SAY it, exorcist."
I sighed, allowing him this small victory. "They beat him."
"They are worse to him than I would ever be. When I felt a vessel weak enough to let me in, I was thrilled...but then I felt the how, the why...and...something stirred in me."
I scoffed. "Don't pretend to be noble all of a sudden."
He sat up and glared. "You think being a fallen angel has erased that I ever was one, you heretical holy man? I have a heart still." He laid back, smiling. "Damien here gives me a wonderful opportunity...to make heads spin on all three realms. Divine, Infernal and Mortal."
"...I don't follow." I admitted, leaning against the door.
"Last time Daddy raised a hand to Damien, I made his cigarette explode...almost like cigars in old cartoons. He even blinked at it like one...well, after he let out the most delightful high-pitched squeal." The giggle was of two voices. Damien-H seemed to like the memory too.
"I'm staying...and when someone plans evil for Damien...I'll do evil to them first. Not as harsh as what they intended...just enough to get them to...stay in their lane." He sat up, and the controllers from the system floated to them...one set in the boy's hands, the other floating, manipulated by seemingly nothing. The two were...playing together.
I uncrossed my arms and stood up from my earlier position. "You will do good...by doing lesser evil, TO evil."
"You get it! I'd applaud, but then Damien would lose his lead in a way I don't want him to." Furious clicking from the controllers. "The angels can't really touch me, you won't cast me out...and the fact the Divine and Mortal are letting me do as I please will piss off TONS of Demons back home! I can do this for decades, as long as Damien lives. Imagine it...Demonic Possession...as the best thing that ever happened to someone. The planes will SHIT themselves!"
"Watch your potty mouth." Damien-H took his mouth back for that remark.
Damien-D seemed...genuinely contrite. "Sorry kiddo. So yeah...you can send me home...but face it...the best parent this kid can ask for is in this room. You exorcise me...and they'll want payback from him for what I did to protect him."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I left. I claimed the demon was far more powerful, beyond me, and likely anyone they could contact. I did all I could to encourage them not to engage the entity, and the child may get more control. In truth I knew Damien-D would not act unless harm came to Damien-H.
I don't know if I can continue my work after what I've experienced then. Even if he was not entirely benevolent...I found him brilliant. I could not see him as an enemy, but merely a rival that had bested me, I...respected him.
I think I may tone down my work...perhaps...I've been fighting the wrong monsters. | Monsignor Michael Benedictine felt the disturbance long before he was summoned. A new demon had arrived into the mortal realm. He could sense the ripples, little pulses of energy that made his hair stand on end and told him where the source resided. This one was very powerful, the ripples having more the character of crashing waves, threatening to overwhelm him. To drown him beneath their onslaught.
"A blight has arrived," Michael said, closing his leather bound Bible and crossing himself.
Father Lawrence nodded thoughtfully, "Is it acting upon the world yet?" While Father Lawrence was not attuned to demons, he had long since discarded his skepticism on the subject. One could not spend any time in the Monsignor's presence and retain any doubt. They existed, their efforts to corrupt humanity an ongoing project stretching back since time immemorial.
Michael shook his head, "No. It has inhabited a host, but it remains isolated." He frowned, "I have not felt its like before. Powerful. Very. But somehow the hunger is absent."
"Perhaps we are in luck then, we may exorcise this blight before it is given the chance work its darkness," Lawrence said, his thumb counting the rosary out of habit.
"Perhaps," though Michael's tone was strained and carried an undercurrent of confusion. He had been on the front lines of this battle for some time. While the demons were a threat, they had also largely been predictable. This was new.
He did not like new.
Michael stood and began to gather the items he would need. A large wooden cross. A small silver one. Holy water. A warrior's Bible, blessed thrice by saints of great power. Once all was accounted for, he nodded to Lawrence, "We should hurry. It is recent and new, but its power gathers fast."
Michael and Lawrence made for the door just as a man, disheveled and panting, burst into the Rectory. "Monsignor, a new--"
Michael held up his hand, causing the man to fall silent, "I am aware. I move to counter the threat as we speak."
The man slumped, the relief palpable. "Thank the Almighty. It is terrible. Truly terrible."
Michael nodded, "Yes. I believe it is an Archdemon. The first in the modern era."
Lawrence's eyes widened, "An Archdemon?" The ramifications were astounding. It was widely believed that Archdemons had been exiled, purged from entering this realm after the stain of Original Sin had been washed clean by the Christ. If one had truly appeared, it would be the first in over two thousand years. The first since the Son of God had given his life so that man might know redemption.
Michael set out, his rapid pace belying the years the man lived. He was old, but he was not weak. The battle for the soul of man sustained him, renewing him continually. There were so few attuned, so few capable of sensing when corruption threatened mankind. Each was precious.
Their journey to the disruption was quick. Surprisingly so as demons quite often tended to avoid places the attuned might easily reach. It was another disturbing fact among a series of them. The Monsignor seemed unperturbed as he mounted the steps to the dilapidated building. "It lies within." As all he said before rapping his knuckles against the cracked door.
There was a shuffling inside, along with the sound of muffled voices in a heated conversation. Finally, the door cracked open, revealing a bleary eyed man with a bald pate, unkempt beard, and decidedly shabby garments. "Whaddya want? I ain't buyin' nuffin'." The man grumbled, his demeanor skeptical.
"I am here on urgent business."
"I ain't want no Bibles or magazines!" He looked the Monsignor up and down, a look of disdain spreading across his features, "I ain't makin' no donations neither. Not to the likes of you."
Michael looked at the man intently, if the other man's word had offended him, it made no visible impression on his expression. "Sir, I am not here to sell you on anything. I would simply like to know whether you have noticed anything disturbing recently."
"Whole damn world is disturbin'," he spat on the ground, just beside the Monsignor's foot, "Chinese takin' my job. Can't get my pills for my back no more 'cause they sayin' I don't need 'em." He shrugged, "World just ain't right. Left the little guy behind." He shook his head sadly.
"There are a great many ills in this world, but I am curious as to whether you have noticed anything within the walls of your home," Michael said, his tone carefully neutral.
"Beyond my fool daughter not comin' out of her room for three days, everything is peachy as pie." He took this opportunity to light up a cigarette, blowing the smoke in Father Lawrence's direction, who responded with a small annoyed cough.
"You say your daughter has been in her room for three days? Is that normal?" Michael asked.
"Ain't nothin' normal about that witch. Always been wrong in the head, and nothin' I do seems to get her head on right." He hooked a thumb in his belt and snapped it, making it clear just how he had attempted to correct her behavior.
Lawrence shared a concerned look with Michael. Abuse often weakened the will, making it easier for a demon to slip in through the cracks. By the looks of things, the father had done his part to place his daughter into jeopardy.
"Would it be all right if I tried to speak to your daughter?" Michael asked.
The man shrugged, "Hell if I care. Don't see you havin' much luck neither." He took a step back, sweeping his hand out, inviting Michael in. "Damn girl bit me the last time I tried to knock some sense into her." His hand creeped out from behind his back, angry black streaks ran along his veins before disappearing beneath a dirty towel acting as a bandage.
Michael glanced at the hand in some alarm, but ignored it in favor of more pressing concerns. "Thank you sir. We will not be any trouble." Michael said as he glided past and began to mount the stairs leading up to the second floor. Father Lawrence hurried quickly behind, a sheen of sweat breaking out as he followed the Monsignor into the darkness above.
**Had to split this into two parts. Too long.** [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/PerilousPlatypus/comments/9hx5jq/wp_youre_an_exorcist_and_this_is_your_most/) **over on my sub here.**
**Platypus out.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | 2018-09-22T01:14:53 | 2018-09-21T21:49:11 | 759 | 312 |
[WP] Your daughter brings over her boyfriend for dinner for the first time. The kid seems nice, but then, while eating, he pokes a baked potato on his plate and says "This looks very interesting. What is this? A 'potato'? Oh interesting. Never heard of a potato, looks pretty good." | “Po-ta-to! You can boil’em, mash’em, stick’em in a stew.”
Reluctantly the gangly creature decided to try the potato. He loved it! Kept wanting more and more.
I think we finally bonded that day. Until later, when he bit my friend’s finger off and I had to push him into lava. I’m gonna miss that little guy. | 'Yeah, potatoes don't really grow around here. My dad sometimes sends them from up north,' I informed him.
&#x200B;
'Do they taste good?'
&#x200B;
'I dunno, try 'em.'
&#x200B;
He held a spoonful of it, inquisitively, slowly raising it to his mouth. He stuck out his tongue, testing the waters. Needless to say, he liked it. Everyone likes my grandmother's potato recipe.
&#x200B;
'Don't forget to eat your asparagus, now!'
&#x200B;
Both my daughter and her boyfriend groaned. It's always a hassle getting them to eat their veggies.
&#x200B;
'If you eat everything on your plate, you guys can go to the park afterwards.'
&#x200B;
After some pretty skilled negotiating on my part, they managed to finish everything. Truly an amazing trade deal.
&#x200B;
'Now, you two don't stay out \*too\* late. School starts tomorrow. Be back by 7.'
'But that's only 1 hour!' She started pouting.
&#x200B;
'I want you to be up early. Besides, his mom's gonna be here soon. I called her before dinner.'
&#x200B;
With that, they were off. I've never understood love at such a young age. It's not long before she breaks up with this boyfriend and finds a new one in her class. As long as she's not having problems, I don't think I need to stick my nose in that.
&#x200B;
&#x200B; | 2018-09-22T11:32:45 | 2018-09-22T10:52:49 | 34 | 15 |
[WP] Each day, as you sleep, your IQ and EQ exponentially increases, you surpassed the world’s smartest minds within a week, solved all Millennium Prize Problems within two, and a photographic memory was a nice bonus during week three. Its now 5 years later. | And I'm so...goddamn...lonely.
You know what makes life worth living? My partner.
When I present the long-term consequences of global warming to the U.S. Senate, they yawn and bow to the will of their constituents. When I tell this to my partner, he smiles and kisses me.
When I warn of the long-term economic bubble we're in, economists laugh nervously knowing I'm right but not wanting to admit it out loud. My partner nuzzles his head in my shoulder and tells me how much he loves me.
I have learned how incredibly stupid I am, not in terms of data, but in terms of human emotion. You see, I'm a prodigy of IQ. He's a prodigy of emotional intelligence. I influence international economic policy, and yet I have the deep-seated instinct that he will probably have done more good in the world than I have by the end. And I love him for it. | "STEP AWAY FROM HIM!" The guard stopped short once he saw the silver I placed against His neck. "Would you kindly step out so that I may speak to him in private?" They looked at Him for an answer, but simply received a stare in return. Nodding, they slowly stepped back through the door, closing it gently. I removed the blade from His neck and slowly paced around his chair. "So this is where You live? It's a lot smaller than I expected." The room was roughly 20 feet long and 15 feet wide. One bed, one bookshelf and a desk. Nothing adorned the the dark burgundy walls. No pictures. No awards. God knows He had plenty of those. He probably kept them in their own room along with a statue of Himself. The selfserving prick.
I looked back at Him, but He continued staring smugly at the wall. He was looking down on me in the way a person would ignore a child throwing a tantrum. No threat. My anger was at it's tipping point. I had practiced the perfect speech, one that would have reached into His soul and unraveled it with one tug, but I was too angry for that now. "You might be a genius, but you're still only human." I pointed my blade at his chest through the opening of his robe. I could see His collarbone. He has probably never felt this vulnerable in His life. But it was protruding so awkwardly, like a dull knife trying to poke through a balloon. I pushed aside His robe with my blade. Ribs. Did He not eat? Was food not good enough for Him? I slowly looked up from His thin abdomen. He was looking into my eyes. Cheekbones. Although we were making eye contact it was as if he was looking at something behind me. I began to open my mouth, but He began to speak. "i'm" His eyes were glazed and dull. "only" He looked... "human."
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I forgot how much I hate writing. I was getting a bit impatient so I gutted some stuff and cut it short. | 2018-10-25T11:25:18 | 2018-10-25T10:55:23 | 28 | 12 |
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